I felt used.
It's why I left earlier than I'd originally thought I would. After he and I were done and I found the energy to get up, I excused myself to the bathroom and while I was cleaning myself up, just wanted to get out of there.
Which sounds so unfair, to be honest. After all, what we did was consensual and I did enjoy myself, even if it had been a very long time since I'd done that. And had anyone but her suggested it, I probably would have said no.
I loved fucking him. It wasn't just because of his size, even if he was thicker and bigger than anyone I'd ever been with. He ... well, how do I describe it except to say that he clearly knew what he was doing? I know that they had reignited something in their marriage over the past year, and while it sounds cliché, being part of it reignited something in me.
Twenty years of marriage to a man who had cooled toward me and then outwardly betrayed me had taken a toll, and I'll admit that the divorce took quite a bit out of me, too. Before meeting my ex-husband, I wasn't a wild child, but I didn't turn down opportunities to enjoy myself. I had a few boyfriends and girlfriends in college along with a number of drunken hook-ups, and spent much of my early twenties the same way. I got to explore and experiment, discovering what I liked and what I wanted.
Of course, "What I wanted" became a marriage and two kids, but I can't be too regretful here. My ex-husband was exactly who I wanted at the time and I fell completely in love with him. Besides, in the bedroom for the first several years of our relationship, he wasn't afraid to be adventurous. It's just that he just ... turned at some point. Maybe it was after the girls were born or when they were in school. I really don't know and honestly don't feel like re-litigating the entire thing right now. What's important here is that the night of the Christmas party reminded me of the adventure I could be having; heck, it was the adventure I should be having.
So when she sent me those three files back in the beginning of the year, I was definitely on board, even if I was a little hesitant about the one called "The Best Night of Your Life." It was by Elle, whom I knew was their favorite audio performer, and it featured her simulating anal sex. I'd done that before, a couple of times with guys I was dating in my twenties and a few times with my ex-husband. But it had been years since I'd even considered it, and I think I only went along with it this time because I wanted to be able to do the other things on her agenda. Besides, I trusted both of them.
I was even the one to suggest the night of the gala for our time together, and for the few weeks before then, I did a few things to prepare. First, I listened to that audio several times over to the point where I had just about every line memorized (especially those at the beginning) and knew every position and beat. Then I watched and masturbated to a number of anal sex videos. I probably didn't have to, but I'm still a very visual person and seeing things gets me off more than hearing them. Finally, I practiced. No, I didn't use that large dildo and I wasn't walking around all day wearing a butt plug; instead, I spent some nights with my vibrator, working on stretching myself out as well as getting used to how it felt.
Was I still nervous about this going in? Pretty much. Work was a great distraction, especially being in charge of the gala, which was the reason we were all getting together that night. Events like that, even when they go smoothly, are nerve-wracking. I have to make polite conversation with older men who might be worth considering if they didn't spend most of the time trying to look down my dress. So I dress a little more demure--which is hard to do when you are tall as I am and have my figure--and know exactly where to find the sweet spot where I remain professional but also indulge their flirtations.
Once that gala was over, though? Well, being able to finally relax and grab a drink before the bar closed meant that I was loose as I headed to the elevator. Ready, though? Well, that was another story.
The ride up was uneventful, and when I took a deep breath before I knocked on their door it was because we really were going into previously uncharted territory. It's why I stuck to my script so closely instead of trying to make it feel natural--it took less energy to act out a part until I got comfortable.
Thankfully, the minute he was pressed up against me and started fingering my clit, I loosened up even more and thought not about how I was going to have anal sex, but how this was such a big fantasy for him and I was going to be the one to fulfill it. I think he picked up pretty quickly on what we were doing, because through all of our foreplay and buildup, he was so relaxed and it was almost like it was familiar to him.
Of course, he'd probably listened to Elle's audio more times than I had, so he knew exactly what to do and where things were going as we did them. That had to be why, when I told him to finger my ass while he licked my pussy, he did it with such skill. The man knew how to use his tongue in a way that made a woman feel worshipped. Heck, the way he was still amazed at my breasts and body when I got naked for him was flattering. Cute, too. I know that his wife was sitting just a few feet away, but even when we were doing the dirtiest stuff that night, I felt like I was all his. No wonder I came like that. And no wonder I wanted act out the rest of the fantasy with him.
Saying "It hurt in a good way" is so bad and makes me sound like some teenager from a bad 1980s TV show or something, but it definitely did. When he got all the way inside me, I just ... well, I went somewhere else. Everything else was feeling--him filling me up, sliding in and out, picking up his pace, and taking me hard and deep.
God, that was insane. The feeling of him just got overwhelming and I could tell that whatever orgasm was building had the potential to be huge, so I started rubbing myself hard. When it happened, I made sounds I didn't know I could, and gushed all over the sheets; when he came, I felt his cock throb in every inch of my ass.
Afterward, I swear it took me a moment to remember where I was. In fact, even though I'd heard his wife talking dirty, moaning, and pleasuring herself throughout the entire encounter--and I even responded at points--she seemed like she was so far away that when I got up, I was surprised she was even there. And she must have been going as rough on herself as she could because her eyes were glazed over, her face was red and sweaty, and she had fallen back into the chair completely spent with her legs spread, her bare pussy red and swollen.
I guess that's why she didn't say much to either of us afterward. He didn't either, but the look we shared as we laid next to one another was enough; plus, he was on his way to falling asleep. But she just sat there, looking at the bed. And that's probably how I got to that moment in the bathroom where I was cleaning myself up and not feeling so great. Again, I'd agreed to it, and the dirty talk was all part of the fantasy. But at that moment, as I dabbed away some of the eye makeup that had run, I didn't feel like their lover; I was simply his fucktoy and her porn star.
When I was done in the bathroom, I found my dress on the floor and quickly put it on, then grabbed my bra, shoes, and purse. She was still in the chair, and when I waved and said goodbye, she asked me why I was leaving so soon. I explained that I was exhausted and needed to go get some sleep. I may have even said something about making it up to her. I'm not really sure; I just wanted to leave.
Thankfully, nobody saw me as I made my way to the elevator and then my room. When I got inside, I put the do not disturb sign out, drew myself a bath, and slid in for a very long soak. It was soothing and helped me get to sleep, and when I woke up about 7:30 the next morning, I headed home right away. I had a full Sunday without my daughter and needed that time to recover and think.
What did I want out of this?
That was tough. At first, the naughtiness of it all was the appeal, but my feelings were muddied. I decided that if I was going to figure out an honest answer to that question, I'd have to put some distance between us.
Now, it wasn't my intention to just ghost them--especially her--but I more or less did that the entire summer. I cordially responded to her texts after they got home that Sunday and we did meet for coffee a few days after, but other than a Fourth of July barbecue and book club, we barely saw each other and I let the text chain cool down a lot. Plus, my attention was elsewhere: the girls were both home all summer and I decided to try dating again. That went as well as it always has--a couple of dud guys, and a few repeat dates with a man named Kevin who was nice but not that interesting to me. All it did was remind me of why I didn't like dating in my late 40s.
Then, I met Nicole.
I'd already known her a little because we often took the same yoga class at the gym, but sometime around mid-June we started having more conversations. It began with a few remarks while waiting for class to start and quick chats in the locker room before heading home, but then we started grabbing something at the gym's juice bar about once a week. Nicole was a little shorter than me--then again, so is everyone--and had a smaller frame. But she was really fit and I have to be honest that I couldn't help sneak a glance or two at her behind while we were in class.
But what also attracted me to her was how we seemed to understand one another so well. We were both the same age and had been through our fair share of relationship hell. She didn't have any kids but was still a great listener when I talked about how hard it was to be raising two teenage girls mostly on my own (because like you know, my ex-husband barely did anything for me). Beyond that, she was intelligent and funny, and I have to say that I was smitten.
I wasn't sure if she felt the same way, though. There were times when we hung out after yoga class where I thought she might be flirting with me, but I also wondered if I was projecting a little. I brought this up one night after book club--I'd stayed behind to help clean up--and the reception I got was a little ... chilly. So I dropped it. I may have made a mental note to bring it up later, but my life got busy again.
August began to roll toward its humid and gross conclusion and I found that my post-yoga juice bar "dates" were getting longer and longer. There had to be something there, I decided. I also decided it was probably going to be up to me to take the first step and maybe ask Nicole out on a date. God, I sound like I'm in high school. But to be honest, she made me feel that way.
Before I could do that, though, I had to tie up a certain loose end.
Right after Labor Day, I sent an "It's been a while, let's get together" text. At that point, I hadn't seen or heard from her since she hosted book club a few weeks prior, and when she came over that Saturday, things were a little tense between us. We broke it a little bit with wine on the deck and conversations about our kids, whom interrupted several times with requests for food, money, or rides later in the evening. When the topic of Nicole came up, we were both a couple of glasses in, and she asked me about the whole situation. I explained that I definitely felt something and was considering asking her out but hadn't.
"Why not?" she asked.
