How I turn to selling it rather than giving it away.
Since being divorced from my husband of twenty-six years I have taken my time to get back into dating. Ok during the first year or so I 'saw' a couple of old flames and I had a brief fling with a young guy, but nothing serious or anything with any commitment. But then I didn't want either of those and after one marriage that had gone tits up, I wasn't looking for anything permanent and certainly I had no intention or desire to fall in love.
Things had changed a lot since I last dated. Now, men were more up front, more demanding and to the point.
"Come on love, you must be gagging for it," a married guy from the golf club muttered as he kissed me at a club dance.
"Well, I thought a nice dinner then back to your place," was an old flame's suggestion as we chatted in a supermarket of all places.
"Let's get into the back of the car," a guy suggested when I went on a first date with him.
"Well Jay it is our third date," another guy muttered sliding his hand up my skirt.
These all happened during the first year after my divorce. Sex was everywhere.
I guess people in middle age don't feel they have the time to take things slowly. Well men don't as they want it all and they want it now. But then why not and if we women are dumb enough to go along with them so be it.
But I couldn't.
I wasn't after love or commitment nor was I after sex that much. I had plenty of company, albeit electronic, in my bedside drawer and when I needed a little more there was always an old flame or a fwb to call on. I found out pretty quickly, however, that if you date as I did, then it's expected that you'll put out, that you'll let him do pretty much what he wants and that you'll end up in bed or nearly naked on the back seat of a married guy's car with your knickers off, tits out and your legs wrapped around him. The old tradition of kissing on the first date, tits played with on the second, hand up your skirt on the third and a fuck on the fourth had changed. The process had been squeezed, the time frame shortened and fourth had now become second and with some guys even first.
So, I didn't date much in that first year or so. It wasn't that I didn't want to go out just that the whole thing of getting to know someone, working out whether you fancied each other and then going through 'the process' became such a drag.
I did, though masturbate a lot but after a few months that became rather tedious. Lying naked on my bed in my lovely flat in Docklands with my hands roaming around my body, though titillating and usually, but not always, satisfying is also lonely. I often felt that I needed company when I did that and I found two types of that. One was using my literary skills to write erotic stories, usually naked or just wearing knickers, that provided the arousal to ensure my finger manipulations worked. And the second? Well, that was a little more extreme, I found chat rooms. I had briefly seen them some years ago when I found my husband had been using them, which ridiculously almost caused a divorce, but then as far as I was aware they were banned because of kids being seduced by them. I was wrong there were loads around and I quite quickly became hooked. That was not by the 'scintillating' conversation but as a means to aid masturbation.
From what I have learned from a number of sources men and women are quite different with their masturbating techniques, needs and outcomes. Most men seem able to jerk off to a full orgasm almost on demand and younger ones can do that several times a day. We can't or more accurately don't and we are different. Different to the point that we only masturbate about half as frequently as men, eight times a month to fifteen by them, and less of us reach orgasm, a survey showed that men of reasonable sexual age cum between 95 and 100 percent of the times they masturbate whereas with us it's more like 75 to 80!
So, I used chat rooms for two reasons connected with my masturbation. Firstly, it helped increase my desire and need to have sex with myself, secondly it was more enjoyable talking, either in writing or on the phone, as we both attended to our needs and thirdly it relieved the loneliness.
There were several methods of mutual masturbation in the chat rooms. The one favoured by most men and disliked by many women who I spoke to online was the man telling the woman what he was doing to her. I hated it. That was not just because of the sheer assumptiveness and insularity as he decided what was happening and assumed that his rarely dulcet tones were turning me on but also because rarely were they much good at it. I don't think I was ever made to cum that way.
The second and far more successful, though most men are not very good at it, are role plays. They work well if the guy has the writing ability, patience and sheer sexual nous to act out an agreed role that generally ends up with the couple fucking. If he is a reasonable wordsmith, as most are not, then as they write about seducing me and us fucking so, my arousal increases and I can start to fondle myself and move into my masturbation techniques.
The third which is sometimes an extension of a role-play is mutual masturbation. Probably more popular between online lovers than amongst newly met couples this is where each describes what they are doing to themselves. This was where I think I had most success and where my hit rate, the frequency with which I orgasmed, was the highest.
So, I used chat rooms quite a lot!
*
"I want to fuck you?" the fifty-something-year-old guy I had been chatting to for over an hour said one afternoon.
The conversation had ranged from the usual. 'How are you?' to. 'Are you married?' and onto the issues with his marriage that along with so many middle-aged guys in chat revolved around his wife going off sex as so many do as the kids fly the coop and the menopause sets in.
He was unusually lucid, interesting and clearly quite intelligent, a rare combination in chat rooms! As is usually the case the conversation turned sexual but in a rather grown up and chat room sophisticated way. It included us exchanging photos with him, thankfully not sending my pet hate a dick pic but a nice full-length shot of him fully dressed and me returning one of me in a dress that was a few inches above the knee and where I had forgotten to wear a bra. As it often does, that caused him to comment on my glasses, that men in chat rooms seem to find sexy, and on my D cup boobs and my clearly aroused nipples.
"Are they like that now?" he asked.
"Not sure."
"Well have a feel?" he replied adding. "If you'd like to, that is, would you?"
"Yes, I rather think I would," I said cupping my breasts that were bare inside the zip up track top I was wearing in preparation of going to the gym and my nipples were, indeed very hard.
"So, what are you wearing Jayne?" he asked.
I told him. "Gym gear," and he said.
"And what's that?"
"Yoga pants and a track top."
"What's under it?"
"Me."
"Just you?"
"Yes."
"No bra?"
"Not yet."
"And why's that?" he enquired nicely.
"Two reasons."
"And they are?"
"Well first, my sports bra is slightly too small for me and on the tight side so I'll only put that on just before I go."
"And second? By the way Jay I am loving this chat."
"Why's that?"
"It sounds so real and intimate talking about your clothing."
"Good, pleased you're enjoying it, I am too. So, you want to know the second?"
"Yes please, if you don't mind telling me?"
"No not at all Craig. It's so that I can easily slide the zip down and get to my boobs."
"Are you now?"
"Yes."
"Is it nice?"
"It's lovely. And you?"
