Average, that’s pretty much how I saw myself. Brown hair, brown eyes, busty for sure, but could stand to either lose 20 pounds or grow 4 inches. Nothing particularly remarkable about me but what I lack in the supermodel, standard cutesy looks department, I probably make up for in personality. Great. Just how every woman wants to be described: “she’s not really pretty, but she’s got a great personality!” Whatever.
I think I’m a late bloomer. I definitely wasn’t in with the cheerleader/homecoming queen group. Didn’t get asked out by the quarterback or the guy voted best looking either. Getting married fairly young to a man who loved me and provided well made me feel secure, but not particularly attractive or desired. This was especially true as time passed and he became more engrossed in his career. I put him through school and he never hesitated to mention that at social gatherings of our friends or his colleagues, always with a grateful air, but that just put me in a niche as ‘the little woman’ – it wasn’t who I was. After he got his doctorate, I could stop working so hard to pay back student loans and the suddenly mounting debt that we starting acquiring as soon as we became ‘Dr. and Mrs.’
Problem being, I wasn’t really sure who I was apart from the ‘Dr. and Mrs.’ In the small southern town in which we had chosen to set up our practice, I was just Dr. Reid’s wife. Good enough to sit on every volunteer board in town, but not good enough to just be pals with. The locals expected me to be some kind of bon-bon eating, Suburban-driving princess, who played a half-hearted round of golf at the country club, followed by a grueling 3 martini lunch. Fuck that.
The chance to be just Carly Reid came rather unexpectedly. After a tortuous board meeting for one of the local civic organizations, where I had tried rather unsuccessfully to keep my opinions largely to myself (another by-product of having a business in a small town) I found myself listening as a member of the school board lamented to a couple of meeting stragglers about the lack of available ‘support’ personnel for the area schools.
I wasn’t sure what ‘support’ personnel meant, but having put myself and my hubby through a collective 12 years of college using my secretarial skills, I figured I might check this out.
Two days later they offered me a job as substitute teacher. What. The. Hell.
Thus started my somewhat dubious career as a part time educator. Scratch that – no offense to anyone who makes subbing their career choice, but I was just a glorified babysitter. And mostly to a bunch of rowdy teenagers because none of the other ‘subs’ wanted to deal with the hormone-fest that was the local high school.
What should have been easy, though admittedly chicken-shit, money became the reason I got out of bed in the morning. I was suddenly a hot commodity.
On average, the students I was spending time with were born the same year I graduated high school. My school days’ memories were more Pretty in Pink and Ferris Bueller while theirs were more Not Another Teen Movie and X-Men.
The girls were sweet and I watched them manipulate the boys rather masterfully. They also seemed to like talking to me when the inevitable ‘busy work’ bullshit assignment was finished. They asked about what high school was like ‘in the old days’ and resisting the desire to bitch-slap them, I told them it was all pep rallies and hay rides.
All very much like I assumed it was for those kids that I didn’t hang out with.
But these teenage boys were nothing like the ones I went to school with back in the day. All outdoorsy and sporty. Everyone rode 4 wheelers and drove their granddaddy’s pickup since the age of 9. And the manners. Wow.
I wasn’t used to that. The first time I heard one of them address me as ‘Ma’am’ I about wet my panties.
And the comments I wasn’t supposed to hear. It only made things worse.
They seemed interested in the fact that I’d grown up in a large city – and the beach no less!
“Wow, so did you do Spring Break Mrs. Reid?”
“Does everyone just wear shorts and bikinis all the time in Daytona?”
My favorite was, “were you ever on MTV’s Spring Break shows?” – good Lord. And the more I shared with them, mostly harmless stuff, the more personal their sharing became.
The girls were interested in my “big sister” sassy style advice. The boys took me into their confidence. It seemed they valued my opinions on dating and … other stuff.
It was the other stuff that would get me in the most trouble.
Most of the boys that were brave enough to run scenarios by me were the very ones that couldn’t spare the time of day for me back in the day. The jocks, the ones voted best looking and most likely to succeed and the student body president.
Talk about making up for lost time! I enjoyed the semi harmless flirting and figured that as long as nothing went beyond silly talk in the classroom, I wasn’t stepping outside the lines. And God, did I love bursa escort the way it made me feel.
I didn’t reckon on Anthony.
Standing just shy of six feet, dark-eyed and darkly tanned, Anthony was the one I unconsciously looked for in my subbing assignments. Bright, articulate, always polite -he was a pleasure to talk to. Almost like a kindred spirit in that his sense of irony and biting sense of humor were developed well above his chronological age.
When I spoke, I felt like he listened. Coming from such a total package, that kind of attention was like catnip and I lapped it up. We joked around occasionally, but he never pushed the boundaries.
Fast forward a few years and I’m wasting time on a social media site. I get a pop up friendship request and before you know it, we have caught up with each other’s lives in a matter of a few hours.
Anthony was out of school and starting his career. We talked about current events, politics, sports and movies. Over the next few weeks we chatted and joked around until we got comfortable enough with each other to discuss the topic we couldn’t when we were teacher and student.
Before you know it, we were discussing our sex lives in detail. Me sharing what I liked but wasn’t getting enough of, him telling me of the girls he’d been dating and his particular likes.
“You know, you were the hottest teacher we had” he mentioned during one late night conversation.
“Well, I’m flattered, but that was a few years ago and you haven’t exactly seen me lately”, I joked back.
“Yes I have. I saw you last night in my dreams”. Fuck. Just reading it sent my heart thumping and I could feel my thighs tense up as my nipples reacted to his typed words.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. I’m married, but hell, I’m not dead!
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” backpedal Carly, get a grip, I’m thinking. “But I’m sure you’ve got lots of real, live girls your own age. You surely don’t need to dream about me.”
Good, that was harmless enough. Way to stay inside the boundaries.
“I’ve been dreaming about you and wanting you for the last five years. Doesn’t matter how many girls are around. You’re the woman that I can’t get out of my head.
And I don’t want to.”
“I hope I haven’t said something wrong,” he typed after I had sat nearly unmoving at the keyboard for a couple of minutes.
“Um no, just not sure how to respond. I wasn’t expecting that.” And as simple as that, that’s how it began.
Soon I was so caught up in the nearly daily ritual of talking to Anthony online and we moved further and further into the danger zone. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him all the time. I got off on the idea of this hot young guy wanting me and telling me all the dirty little things he wanted to do to me and what he wanted from me.
My marriage was solid, solid and boring. The fact that Anthony made me feel not just sexy but sexual; fueled my imagination and my desire.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone and I definitely didn’t want to destroy my marriage, but I was fighting a losing battle with myself. His pull was stronger than my will to resist it. How could I when he made me feel everything that I wasn’t getting from the person lying beside me every night?
Okay, so I’m trying to justify it in my head. Sue me.
We kept at this for months. The suggestive talk turned to exchanging photos and sharing fantasies of what we would do with and to each other if we ever took it a step further. God, the hot talk was bad enough, but when I finally saw a picture of the goods… damn.
Eight solid, thick inches of uncut cock. Fucking glorious.
I’d had lovers before my husband; not a lot but enough to know that this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park for me to take. Average. Now that I knew what I was missing, it was very easy to say that I’d had average cock. And it’d been good, no major complaints other than the usual lack of romance and feeling like it was ‘Saturday, so yeah, time to fuck.’
This was so not average. Above average. Beyond average. Now I had to know. I had to have it just once.
More pictures were sent back and forth. By now I had a little library of photos hidden away on my computer that I took out and looked at when I was alone and lonely. Our messages became the fuel for my solo fuck sessions, where I would bring out the bag of toys, dildos, vibrators and anything else I could substitute for the real cock that I wanted so badly.
“I was thinking about you last night when I was fucking my pussy with my toy,” I told him.
“Really? Bet your toy won’t throb inside you and then pull out and slap itself on your clit like I will.” Shit. No it won’t, I thought to myself.
“Hopefully when I’m sliding into you, you’ll be holding onto my shaft and guiding me. You’ll fucking feel me throb when I’m in your hand and deep in your pussy.” Holy Hell.
“I want to be in you as long as possible that first time. The hard bursa escort bayan and fast fucking will come, I assure you. You’re going to get my cock in every single way possible.”
I have got to have this. Got to make it happen, and soon.
I couldn’t stand the teasing any longer. I felt like I was on fire half the time and I was wetting my panties the other half of the time.
I needed to see if this young man could make me feel in person, everything I was feeling virtually. I had to have that cock; I knew he wanted me on my knees, looking up at him as he fed me his dick.
It was something he’d fantasized about while sitting in class watching me. Something he’d told me about time and again. The way he wanted it. How he liked it when women would spit on him and make it nice and wet. How he’d had only one other girl be able to deep throat him and how he wanted to introduce me to his cock and “make out with him a little”.
I wanted to meet his dick up close and personal too. I fucking wanted to worship his cock like I’d never ever done before. I wanted to give him the most incredible blowjob of his life. Obliterate the memory of every other fucking mouth that’s every had its lips wrapped around it.
I had a conference coming up out of town and without stopping to consider the possible consequences, I asked if he wanted to meet me. For three days I would be on my own in a city not more than a 2 hour drive from him.
I wasn’t going to back down. This wasn’t just his fantasy anymore, I had masturbated and daydreamed and creamed my panties for six long months. I was going to take my pleasure where I could and with someone that wanted me in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand.
I had never felt so sexy and on edge in my life as I packed easily every piece of lingerie in my underused arsenal. I packed thigh highs and garter belts, baby doll nighties and a scarlet and black corset. I was shaved, perfumed and plucked to within an inch of my life. I don’t think I was as well prepared for sex since my fucking wedding night almost 15 years earlier.
God, let him show up.
We had planned to meet in the hotel bar. Maybe a drink would soothe my nerves and give me the extra shot of confidence I sorely needed. I walked into the dimly lit room and saw him sitting at the bar with his back to me. I knew him. I felt the power of him. Shoulders wide and filling his seat so calm and sure. I’d played it in my head a thousand times.
Walking up to him I brushed my fingertips against the side of his neck, “been waiting for me long?” I asked.
“Feels like fucking forever,” he responded. The bartender caught part of the conversation and stared. Obviously I was quite a bit older than my new drinking partner.
Or maybe he was just used to seeing horny older women pick up hot younger men every day of the week.
But then I realized it was me. I was feeling bolder, sexier and owning it all at that minute. My whole body trembled with that knowledge and then when Anthony stood up and pulled me to him to greet me with a kiss, I shook all the more.
He didn’t just kiss me. He devoured me like a man starving. He nibbled at my lips, swept his tongue up the side of my neck to feast for a moment before slanting his mouth over mine and drinking deeply.
His tongue was thick and warm, rough against mine as it swept the tender inside of my mouth. I almost forgot how goddamn sexy just kissing someone could be.
God he could kiss. It was pulling me in, making me feel warmer than I was before. One hand wrapped around my nape while his other glided down my spine and grasped my waist pulling me tighter as if he was afraid I wasn’t really real.
And the bartender cleared his throat. “Uh, if you like I can bring the lady a drink if you’d care to move to one of our booths” he said winking at the both of us.
It took me a second to clear my head but before I could answer Anthony smoothly replied, “thank you, she’ll have a glass of Malbec, Finca La Celia if you have it” as he steered me towards a booth in the back corner.
I slid into the corner and he took the same side as me. I was pressed against the wall on one side and 200lbs of hungry man on the other. I felt his heat, I felt his want.
It channeled through to the black pencil skirt and sheer stockings I had worn. It bled into the cobalt blue silk blouse and black lace demi bra that was currently trying to contain 36 inches of soft, tingly warmth. My nipples were so hard they ached against the cups of my bra.
The black lace panties I’d bought for the fucking were struggling to absorb the wetness that was dripping from my pussy. Just from the kiss and sitting next to this man.
“You feel so good, so soft, so hot, so fucking incredible” he whispered in my ear as his hands moved over my back and then down to my thighs under the table.
His hand touched the hem of my skirt and then skated up underneath running his fingers lightly over my stocking escort bursa tops and gently pushing my thighs open. My skin was so sensitive and he took full advantage as his fingers caressed the skin between the edge of the nylon and my hungry pussy.
My hand was clutching his as it traveled closer to the slick wetness. I wasn’t guiding so much as along for the ride. I wanted to feel what he was feeling when he learned just how much I wanted him inside me.
With one hand he gently cupped my right breast, plumping it and lightly pinching the nipple through my blouse. His other hand found wetness as he pushed the soaking crotch of my panties to the side and slid two fingers in deep.
“So hot and tight,” he murmured so close to my ear that his warm breath blew over my cheek, “are you going to come for me right here baby?”
I thought there was a strong possibility that I just might as I struggled to stop the shaking in my thighs as he continued to thrust his fingers into my pussy, the heel of his hand making sweet contact with my clit with every push.
I tried to control my breathing and focus on his cock. I wanted it inside me and I was afraid I would scream out my climax right there in the bar before I even got a chance to see it.
My hand was rubbing that monster as it snaked its way halfway down his thigh. I squeezed and rubbed, playing with the head through his pants until I started to feel a drop of pre-cum dampening the material.
I was on fire and I know that he was as ready for me as I was for him. He looked at me and I licked my lips and managed to whisper, “I need you now, I want to cum and I want you to feel it pulse around your cock”.
“We’ll save that for round two,” he growled “but first I want you to come for me right here. I want to watch you to lose control with me. In front of anyone who may be watching. I want you to come hard for me baby. Right now.”
This was the Anthony I already knew. The one who pushed my buttons and could damn near make me cum just with words. I was so close and his brown eyes bore into mine as he hooked his fingers slightly upward, thrust deeper and hit my G-spot all while his thumb flicked back and forth over my hot clit.
And suddenly there was no stopping it. I was cumming and grinding my hips into his hand, biting my lip and trying not to knock the goddamn table over as I bucked and whimpered in that dark corner booth.
He swooped forward and caught the loudest of my moans with his mouth as he gentled his hands and began petting and soothing instead of stoking the fires.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay,” he whispered. His face was drawn tight, and he swallowed hard trying to regain his own control. I didn’t know what to say. I was embarrassed to have him see me lose total control like that, even though we’d talked about it so many times.
His cock was still clutched tightly in my left hand, throbbing and rock hard. He never broke eye contact as he removed his hand from my still quivering pussy, brought one finger to his lips and pushed it in his mouth.
“So sweet, and I saved some for you babe” he said as he swiped his second glistening finger across my lower lip as I obediently opened my mouth and sucked him inside.
His cock twitched and if possible, grew.
“Let’s go,” he said and started to slide out of the booth. He threw money on the table without bothering to count it. I’m quite sure the bartender got at least a fifty percent tip but who the fuck cared?
He reached in for my hand and dragged me across the remaining distance of red leather. Red leather that I was sure now had a healthy coating of my sweet cum smeared over the surface. As I wobbled to my feet, adjusting my skirt and grabbing my purse with one hand, he pulled me behind him through the dark bar and into the elevator alcove immediately outside the entrance.
I looked at him hungrily as we waited for that damn elevator, praying that my breathing would slow down to a normal rate. Finally the elevator arrived and we hopped in as he quickly hit the ‘door close’ button before anyone else could join us.
Pushing me against the wall, he quickly knelt at my feet raising my skirt with the same motion. He looked up at me, then looked up at the mounted security camera and smiled.
“You’re not seriously… oh God” I panted as his fingers pushed aside the crotch of my panties and his tongue smoothly opened my pussy lips and dipped inside for a thorough taste.
“One little taste wasn’t enough, but you’ll taste me before this night’s over too” he said. He looked up again and standing pulled my skirt back into place as we approached the twelfth floor.
Walking down the hall to the very last room on the end, I fumbled in my purse for the card key. Finally finding it, Anthony took it from my hand and inserted it in the door’s reader. The door swung open and I felt, rather than heard him enter behind me and look around.
I’d said nothing, but I’d arranged to kick in the extra amount to upgrade from the regular room that the company was paying for, to the water view suite we’d just walked into. Soft greys along with sapphire blue dominated the colors on the walls and king-sized bed.