Hi. I've been asked to tell you a story about myself. So...being so close to Valentine's Day I figured I would share the events of one special Valentine's Day some years back that changed my life. Just be warned. This is not a tale for the timid or those with fixed moral values.
I suppose I should introduce myself.
My name is Robert. I was 51 and retired at the time. I know. That's considered young. But I had lost my wife the year before and after 30 successful years in business it was easy for me to retire comfortably. Besides, after the sudden death of my wife, Angie, work just didn't feel the same anymore. I was extremely depressed for months after I lost her. I tried everything. I tried support groups, antidepressants, therapy. Nothing helped, except maybe my 18-year-old daughter, Julie.
She's still gorgeous and sexy, just like her mother, and so full of life and positive energy. I wouldn't have made it without her. I adopted her at 5-years-old when I married her mother. I'm the only father she's ever known. And we got even closer with Angie's absence.
Now...I understand why you're here reading this story. And before you start assuming this is one of those forgivable incest stories where stepfather has sex with stepdaughter, just get that thought out of your mind. Julie and I have never done anything like that and never will.
Don't worry. There's plenty of sex coming. Prepare yourself.
So.....here we go.
My story takes place one snowy winter day, Valentine's Day, to be exact. I was attending the last day of a seminar on building self-esteem. I was finally overcoming my depression. I felt I had grieved long enough and was ready to rejoin society and start living again. Julie had come across this self image building seminar and I figured I'd give it a try, just to keep her happy.
It took place at a brand new luxury hotel which, we won't bother to identify since this story could have taken place almost anywhere and I really don't want anyone trying to look me up after I share what happened.
Anyway, I was sitting there on the last day of the seminar nauseated by the little cheap box of chocolates and Valentine's cards the participants were requested to fill out to each other. Love and romance were the last things I wanted that day. I was also tolerating the review of highlights from the past few days of all the glorious ways we could put our miserable lives back together through diet, exercise, meditation and purchasing this sweet, bubbly little lady's course, a $2000 program to continue our self discovery journey to heavenly bliss.
I probably would have bowed out of the seminar after the first couple days if it hadn't been for Rosie. Yes, Rosie. That's what her name tag said. And as it turned out that's really all anyone knew about her. The men couldn't keep their eyes off her but didn't approach her fearing their boners might give them away. I, myself, kept my distance from her forewarned. And the women, jealous I suppose, couldn't stop gossiping like Rosie was some kind of immoral slut.
To be fair, it wasn't hard to see why the ladies complained. Rosie wore a different outfit everyday that revealed enough to stimulate every man's imagination. On this particular day she wore a flaming red silk blouse and tight black pencil skirt with nylons and shiny black high heels.
Rosie looked to be Angie's age, about ten years my junior. Brunette, brown eyes. She was in amazing shape for her age. She must have worked out at a gym to maintain that body. And her breasts! Not Dolly Parton size but full chested with cleavage that forced you to look down her blouse before making eye contact. Another reason few felt comfortable approaching her. I might have preferred blondes, but I was willing to deny that for Rosie.
I had absorbed little the seminar instructor said that week nonchalantly taking every opportunity to catch another peek at Rosie. She was sitting across from me at a table on the opposite side of the room. I had prime seating for enjoying the peep show. Younger than most of the old geezers attending I managed to beat them to the seat with the best full body view of her.
You see, Rosie, didn't just sit watching and taking notes. She put on a subdued floor show difficult to ignore. She might touch herself in sensually suggestive ways like unbuttoning her blouse a little. Then she'd fan some imaginary perspiration rolling down between those gorgeous bosoms. Little things. Just enough to keep her audience returning for more.
She never prolonged eye contact with any of the patrons. I think she wanted to maintain the impression she was focussed on the seminar's instruction. I assumed this gave her the right to denial. If anyone complained about her being inappropriate she could easily claim unawareness of her behavior.
You see, by day two of the seminar, everyone knew the story. I heard it in the men's room at lunch break. A couple of guys attending their second and third rounds of seminars with Rosie offered an intriguing tale. They shared they had heard Rosie was a prostitute, past her prime, and, having been asked not to loiter in the hotel bar, made a practice of attending hotel seminars where she would scout for prospects. And she selected you. She'd turn you down if you approached her. She would proposition her choice of the litter to get a room and then meet up later for sex.
The storytellers insisted they heard the sex was incredible but rough. And, whatever you did, be advised to take an empty wallet with only enough cash you were willing to have stolen. She'd drug your drink and leave after you fell asleep.
Of course, these two old farts couldn't verify anything from personal experience but insisted they had been informed by very reliable sources. I smiled in disbelief but didn't complain. It made for a good locker room story. These old guys had probably concocted it fantasizing Rosie would eventually choose them to have sex. I guess there were worse ways to spend your time during retirement. And I was no one to judge. As each day passed I was getting more and more sexually frustrated myself.
You have to realize, I hadn't had sex for several months. You can believe it or not, but I was used to fucking Angie practically every day and sometimes more than once. We had an understanding between us that whenever one of us got horny the other had to immediately submit and do whatever was asked. And we both got horny a lot. I swear we spent a good portion of our marriage in closets and restrooms. I suppose that's why I was depressed for so long. I didn't realize it til that day, but sex was the one thing I desperately needed to finally get my life back on track.
So...This was the last day of the seminar and Rosie seemed to be pulling all the stops out for an encore performance. I watched her remove her bra in the morning session quickly putting it in her large purse. Then she drove me mad running her finger down inside her cleavage. She glided her finger nails along her breasts lightly scratching at the thin fabric of her blouse and lightly massaged them periodically just to remind you she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Then it was late afternoon. The instructor had everyone's attention focused up front with her overhead projector reviewing those highlights as earlier stated. Of course, the room was darkened so everyone could see the screen clearly. In an hour, the seminar would end and everyone would leave.
That would also bring the curtain down on the Rosie show. But Rosie had one more tantalizing trick up her sleeve, or should I say up her skirt. For an encore, and for the first time during the entire seminar, she looked directly at me from across the room. When she was certain she had my attention she slipped her high heels off and slowly reached up under her tight skirt. Apparently her skirt wasn't tight enough to prevent her from pulling out what I could barely make out to be dark lace panties. Her eyes fixed on me, she continued ever so slowly working those panties over her nylons and down her legs to her feet where she reached down, still watching me, to remove the underwear from one foot. But she wasn't done.
I expected the attire to make its way to her purse after that and tried to look away in a vain attempt to hide my salacious thoughts. I looked around to see everyone else totally turned to the front of the room captivated by the rapidly changing slide presentation, except for the sweet little instructor, of course, who had already learned to never look at Rosie's antics for fear of forgetting her place and blushing.
Rosie and I were seated toward the back of the room of our respective sides, which I later learned she had planned. I probably could have unzipped my pants and masturbated right there with no one but Rosie the wiser. She could watch me for once. That would show her.
