How I got here...
Let me say right at the start that there is no actual sex in this story. Nothing goes on between my legs; it all takes place in my imagination, and that's probably the way it will always be, although when you're 57 year old you've seen and done enough things to realize that never is a bad word to use.
57 years old. Without question I'm the most sheltered woman that age on the planet, or at least that's the way I've felt ever since I came upon this website recently. Until my husband accidentally left this site on the computer, I didn't even know it existed.
When I slipped into the computer chair that morning and touched the mouse, the screen lit up and a whole new world opened up in front of me. It was a world that, while I probably knew was out there, was never curious enough to explore on my own.
There were thousands of stories there, so many that I didn't know where to start. I clicked on a title that seemed interesting, and found that was the only fascinating thing about it. I clicked on another, and then another. Some stories were better than others, and there must have been enough decent one to keep my interest.
Then, I clicked on one story with the title "Pretty Anna Upon Thames" and began to read it. The author seemed to have a good grasp of the English language so I read beyond the first couple of paragraphs.
There was a picture of a lovely woman in the body of the story, the woman who was the title character of the tale, and what a tale it was! She was an older woman, not my age but older than the young man who was the other star of the story.
His name was Blaine, and he was a young black man - so young that at first Anna wasn't sure he was old enough to her to be thinking about in the manner she was. As the story went on, I found myself getting more and more aroused, until by the end of the tale my face was practically on top of the computer screen.
The Blaine character caught my attention. So confident and charming, he had won Anna over effortlessly, and as he dazzled the woman with his lovemaking techniques, I found myself trying to imagine what it would be like to be with a young lad like Blaine.
Some of the things that went on in the story - I knew they were just added to make it more erotic. The part where Blaine actually contorts himself so that he can perform fellatio on himself - that clearly was insane. No man could do anything like that. It had to be anatomically impossible.
All of the references to his penis seemed to be wildly exaggerated as well. While it was true that over the last 34 years or so, my experience has been extremely limited, back in my college days I was a little wilder and had seen my share of dicks. I knew they varied in size quite a bit, but the way that this Blaine was described made him out to be some sort of Superman.
As I finished the story, my mind went back to an incident many years ago, back when our marriage was on the rocks and I was beginning to wonder whether or not to divorce my husband.
The past...
He had been caught cheating on me. The long hours he had been putting in at work had apparently included fucking an underling on the desks and anywhere else they could find. What made it worse was the fact that I knew the woman. She and her husband had socialized with us several times, and when I found out about it I was stunned. Why would this woman be interested in my husband?
She was beautiful. Blonde and vivacious, and so voluptuous that she was almost like a caricature, with breasts that seemed to perfect to be real, but were, most likely. What did she see in my husband?
My husband was like me. An ordinary, white bread guy who had just turned 40 along with me, and while I found him attractive, I was prejudiced. I loved the guy, or at least I did until I found about about him and Joni.
I didn't touch the man for over a year while he made every effort to make things right. The other couple had already gotten divorced and the woman had left town, and that idea was looking good to me. Just throw the bum out and be a single mother with 2 kids.
I began to go out with some of my co-workers a couple of night a week while my contrite husband babysat. Mostly we would just go shopping and hit a bar for a drink or two before heading home, although once in a while our younger colleagues would drag us old fogies out to a dance club.
I had stopped wearing my wedding ring about that time, putting it safely away while I decided what to do with my life, so when guys would start hitting on me in this place, it wasn't like they knew I was still attached, although I don't think that they would have given a damn one way or another. These guys just wanted to fuck.
That wasn't me. I had only had intercourse with 3 men in my life, and one of them was at home with our kids, so it wasn't like I was in the habit of giving it away to anybody who looked my way. I had been completely faithful up until then, and really had no intention of changing that in some rundown dance club that seemed to be desperately hanging on to the disco era.
Still, having guys hit on me again felt good, even if most of them were younger than me - considerably younger in some cases. One night, a guy asked me to dance, and I must have had enough drinks in me that I accepted.
He was a good looking guy, Greek or Italian with bronze skin and a shirt open to expose a hairy chest on gold necklaces. As if that wasn't Saturday Night Fever-ish enough, this disc jockey was playing songs from that movie which had to be 20 years old.
How Deep Is Your Love? Boy, sometimes the irony just clubs you in the face. The tempo of the music had stopped, which was just as well because my dancing is not much to write about, and now the Gibb Brothers were asking me how deep my love was.
I was in the arms of this guy, who had been paying more attention to everybody else dancing around us than me, but now I was wrapped up in the arms of this bear. His cologne was overpowering as we danced like we needed a room, and as he ground into me I could feel his cock pressing against my stomach, and he was hard.
He was leaning down and nibbling on my ear and saying something - something that didn't register until after he said it - but although the music was loud I knew what I had heard.
"I wanna fuck you so bad."
I guess that proved that I was where I didn't belong and doing things that I shouldn't be doing. The music stopped, I thanked him for the dance, and I scurried back to rejoin my friends, who had been watching old Marie doing something they didn't expect.
I had expected, and maybe hoped, that my friends would give me a tsk-tsk of disapproval, at least the ones in my age bracket, but none of the five in my company thought what they had seen was anything but fantastic.
"You two looked so hot out there," one friend remarked.
"Hot? He was grinding his crotch into me!"
"Duh!" retorted another. "No kidding. You were giving it back to him too."
"I was?" I answered meekly.
"We thought you were going to go at it right there on the dance floor!" one giggled, and that came from a woman who was even older than me.
