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*This story involves extramarital sex. If that bothers you it’s likely best not to read past this*
There is always a moment between impulse and realization; the moment of indecision in which the action could go either way. That moment could be years of indirect contemplation spaced out over many impulses leading in the same direction, or simply one flash where the pros and cons become blurred. The beans that fall on the side of “do” or fall on the side of “don’t” are counted quickly and a direction is taken in both the former and the latter. The process in hindsight seems automatic and that the action was predetermined as if somehow I didn’t have control of the decisions made. Most impulses are controlled and the better sense of reason prevails, even for an admitted impulsive person such as me. On the other hand, once I give into an impulse my mind seems one tracked in terms of following it to its completion, as if the breaks in my mental constitution failed a long time ago.
At 41 years of age I seem to be getting these impulses more and more often. I almost feel like I’m missing something if I don’t act on them. Something that I’d regret and no matter how selfish the indulgence I feel the need for the experience. Selfish because in many ways I have a lot of the things in life people strive for and that people say will make them happy. I have well-paying job and am married to a hardworking and supportive man, two wonderful kids. We live in a big house, two cars, go on vacations and have a savings. I have my health and know that I’m not too old to be attractive. I don’t have the same body I had 20 years ago, but I stay active and maintain my weight. I have long brown hair that curls a bit at the bottom that I sometimes straighten, dark brown almost greyish eyes in some light, I wear glasses sometimes but more often have contacts, medium sized breasts and long legs. A lot of people notice my hips and they are still a source of compliments. I like to dress in a way to highlight my best features, usually deep colours. I like to wear skirts to work when I can and prefer half circle or pencil skirts that fit high on my hips.
Despite being usually pretty busy at work I’m quite prone to daydreaming, a bad habit that causes me to mix things up sometimes. I do it while I drive, watch the kids’ activities, take measurements of samples and pretty much whenever the mood takes me. My daydreams can be fantastical in nature to mundane to sexual. I work in a testing lab and I often find myself imagining that I somehow make the next breakthrough that changes the course of history; that’s the fantastical. The mundane would just be something as simple as daydreaming about a quiet weekend. The sexual can vary from things i’ve done to dark stuff that I’d never ever do. I seem to get a favourite one and then move on or add to it. The daydreaming is a source of a lot of my impulses. I know that most see excessive daydreaming as a problem but I get enjoyment out of it and don’t want to give that up even though I have considered that I should. I enjoy each type of metal wandering but the sexual ones seem to come popping up the most and these days at an almost uncontrollable rate. In fact, it’s been this way for the past number of years. I went to a doctor and it was suggested there could be biological reasons, subconsciously knowing that my days of fertility are coming close to an end. Even in the light that I certainly don’t want anymore kids the suggestion wasn’t completely outlandish.
The other reason I fill my head with dreams is because I don’t have the most active social life. Likely an extension of being shy and introverted as a kid and teenager. I broke out of my shell of sorts in university but the idea of maintaining lasting relationships with multiple people is never one I completely understood. I’m also the sort of person that spends time thinking about whether or not an imaginary number is any less real than a real number or if rational numbers are inherently more rational than irrational numbers. Neither of these topics draw crowds at social gatherings. As a result my social life is mostly at home and with my one best friend who has held that status for 20 years now.
At work I have acquaintances and am on friendly terms with most people that don’t mind my spacey moments spent inside my own head. During one of my regular daydreams one such acquaintance broke my interlude of indulgence and asked, “Michelle, would you like to go out for lunch”
Snapping into reality, “of course Angie, that would be a lot of fun”
I really meant it, I loved hanging out with Angie, she was energetic and had an irresistible personality that made me feel a part of the gossip she would dish, all the while not resenting her for being a gossiper; something she certainly is. As silly as it sounds she also makes me feel cool. There’s no doubt she was a popular girl, a gorgeous smile and a way of making the people around them feel like they matter. The type of social butterfly who could even befriend a lab dvd porno rat like myself. Angie is an admin assistant to one of the directors in the building, I can never keep track of all these directors but the one she worked for is outside of my department. Nevertheless she has something to say about everyone and I’m having the guilty pleasure of laughing at every work and encouraging her to give me more. I don’t get the chance to talk with her often and it was really lifting my spirits.
The gossip of work being almost exhausted the topic fell to dating. Angie hard no reservations about discussing her sex life and not surprisingly it’s very active.
“how many guys have you seen this year?”
“ummmmm maybe 15” she says after a short pause for the calculator in her head to do the math.
There isn’t a hint of shame in her voice or manner, but I’m sure there was a touch of jealousy in my response.
“How do you meet them? It’s only May!”
“Mostly online” she says as a matter of fact.
“You just meet strangers and go to bed?” my voice cracking a little in disbelief.
“Not always bed………there are also kitchen tables, sofas, backs of cars and balconies.” Angie says laughing quite loudly to inject a bit of humour and call attention to my naivety.
Still dumbstruck at her uncoerced confession, “Why can’t you just meet guys somewhere else? What if you meet a psychopath?”
“umm I dunno, everyone does it, just easy so everyone knows what their looking for before” she says as if explaining a simple concept to someone who should have gotten it ages ago.
“What site do you go to”
Laughing loudly Angie says, “you thinking about giving it a go?”
My entire face turns red in the moment I realize she’s seen past my own realization that I was in fact gathering information it check it out. I hadn’t even gotten that far in my thought process but she is perceptive of what people want and her eyes are telling me that she knows exactly what I will be thinking. She tells me the details as if in approval of my curiosity and tells me that they even have a section for married people.
“I wouldn’t!” I say in full knowledge that I’m only two years removed from my affair. “I’m just curious to see what it’s all about, I’m not going to sign up or anything” rambling over the words Angie gives me no indication that I need to explain myself to her anyways. The cheque comes and I pick it up, which is sort of understood when a more senior employee takes an admin to lunch regardless of who asks who to go.
The rest of the day I think about the conversation, all the sex she is having, how in control of it she seems. I feel jealous but not resentful, I like Angie and know that she probably feels some jealousy toward me too. It’s nothing I keep telling myself, it’s nothing but something for her to do, she might not even really like it. I think about how dirty it would be to meet someone for sex like that, I think about what sorts of people would do that. My daydreams give ways to images of rebels 10 times badder than James Dean, full of muscles and tattoos and chains all the things that I’m not even attracted to I laugh to myself.
I get home and it’s business as usual. I’m making dinner, prying information from the kids and waiting for my husband to get home so we can all be in one place. My son is 19 and in university still not sure what he wants to do with himself except going out to party. He’s doing his best to ignore me while my daughter is doing her best to tell me about everything and anything that’s happening at her school that it’s hard to digest any of it. All of the girls who aren’t talking to each other seemed to imply a monastery of silence in her 8th grade class. Her dance lessons are later in the evening and I absolutely love taking her.
Dinner is mostly my husband talking about the laundry list of incompetencies at work and it’s not like he’s wrong but the sort of thing tires easily on me. For me, if you can’t change it than learn to work with it. My husband it quite smart and good at his job, so he has little patience for those who aren’t. The only problem is that the swirl of negativity that he catches himself in brings a gloomy tone to the house. Our daughter becomes less excited about all the people she talked or didn’t talk to today and our son doesn’t veil his disinterest as he announces his plans to get drunk this evening. Not in those words but I can catch the meaning of going to a party and can’t drive there.
My daughters lessons are just more daydreaming for me. The dreams are turning to impulses. I want to see who is on that thing. Maybe I can find Angie? Wouldn’t that be funny? The overall naivety I really have for the online dating world doesn’t even occur to me in passing. I’m having way too much fun thinking about my misconceptions.
I tell my husband that I’m going to stay up a little late when he tell me it’s time for bed. This is nothing unusual as my sleeping patterns are ensest porno erratic at best. I can be soundly asleep by 9:30 or a complete insomniac not getting a single wink before going to work again. My motivation isn’t insomnia this time, it’s to check out the website Angie told me about.
“Damn” I say in frustration as it tells me to make a profile before I can enter. I don’t want to make a profile, I just want to voyeur, look into the dirty windows of others while keeping my anonymity. What’s wrong with that?!
Fine, I’ll make a profile…….choose a name…….enter your email……..password……..repeat password……..wait for confirmation email………….well this is tedious.
Got my email and I should be ready to look at some profiles. Nope! Questions………..body type – slim/average…………..hair – brown……height 5’7″………level of education – not saying…………income – wtf?……….birth sign – really?…………personality questions – well I’m not doing those…………-enter-
-You must fill out your profile to continue- at this point I’m ready to forget the whole thing but some part of me is invested in seeing it through. So I write:
I’m a 38 year old woman (yeah a lie) looking to look around -enter-
-profile must be over 100 characters- So I continue…..
Not sure what to expect but am pleasantly ready to expect the unexpected. (the loopy nonsense of that sentence is not lost on me, I just have no idea what to say) I like to read and do other stuff too.
What more questions? -likes and dislikes – Didn’t I cover all that in my profile? Oh I can skip this! On to my window shopping!
They’re nothing like my thoughts that preceded my search. Large cross section of men, all different types although there does seem to be a large amount that think posing with their car is a good idea. Many other curious idiosyncrasies that seem counter-productive to actually finding a date. I spend about an hour reading and looking at different ones, not really sure what to take from it. I can’t help but think of which ones Angie has screwed. With that in my mind I go to get some coffee.
Checking my phone I see that I have 6 new messages. This is highly unusual, especially for this time at night. I check my mail and they are private messages from the dating site. I feel something in my stomach as I didn’t really expect anyone to contact me.
“Let me paint your face with my cum” says one charmer
“I told my mom you are my girlfriend so now you have to date me”, this one will have to take the cake for the most fucked up line.
But it’s not like the social retardation stopped there “You want you’re (sic) pussy liked (sic)” says the national grammar and spelling champion.
“I’m going to Vegas and I have two tickets one of them is for you.” What this lacks in profanity it makes up for in creepiness.
“My cock needs to be sucked and you need to suck cock. Can we skip the formalities?” I wonder if this ever works
“If you don’t want to be walking funny for a week don’t get fucked by me.” Advice that won’t be difficult to heed.
Well that’s 6. I’m not really offended or anything as I’m used to dirty language and whatever, I mean I’ve written erotic online. I just can’t believe any of this works. As I look at the profiles of the guys who said the stuff all I can think about is loneliness and bitterness. I think they are trying to insult women because they are alone, that’s my impression and I feel sad.
Over the next few weeks I daydream more and more about the website despite not going back. My first experience with it was strange to be sure but I also started qualifying my experience with what I put into it. I didn’t post a picture and I didn’t say a whole lot about myself. Not that it gives anyone the right to verbally abuse me but maybe they wouldn’t if they saw me. In this way, I start talking myself into posting a picture. Nothing identifiable I tell myself. I’ll take it down right away………….this line continues until I’ve found the picture that I consider the right one……
“I’ll shove my cock down your thoat (sic)” seems I may have presumed too much.
This time however there are a lot more messages than before. In the two weeks that it had been up there were 21 messages of various degree vulgarity. One night of posting a picture and I have 89 messages. Angie must have 1000s. How does one even start to look at these? The respite from “I am going to *insert vulgarity* to your *body part*” is mostly broken with “hi” or “hi babe”. But……..everyone now and then……there is a well formed thought and a friendly hello. Just to show the effort isn’t wasted I respond to a few of those.
I have no plans to meet anyone so I just write friendly thanks for your interest sort of things but…..
“fine fuck you bitch”…….very nice…..
From all that there is one guy who is respectful and seems really nice. His name as far as czech amateurs porno I know is ENM_78 and we end up exchanging a number of emails about the bizarre nature of the site. We even say good-night without him calling me any sort of name. With sensory overload I go to bed.
My phone is exploding with messages and I take down the picture. I have to admit that my ego feels pretty good, even if the comments were particularly obscene. It’s a qualified ego boost as I’m not so stupid as to think other women aren’t getting the same treatment. Deleting my messages I stop when I see ENM_78 and I feel sort of bad. He seems like a good guy who is looking for a date and I’m just messing around. I tell him the truth and that I’m married and just curious about the site, that I’m taking the profile down…etc…
He isn’t really phased by the response and says that it’s not really uncommon but that it didn’t have to be a serious thing to be curious about it. We started talking back and forth again, getting a little more personal each time. Then he made me an offer: “No strings attached and we both know the deal. It’s just sex and that it”
For some reason he was saying the same thing as everyone else but saying it differently. My impulse indecision starts rocking back and forth, swaying dangerously to the side of no return. My fingers are trembling and I feel the heat below my waist. I start feeling like this is what I’m missing. He’s certainly not the best looking guy who messaged me, he is good looking in his own way but it isn’t a typical one. Although our profiles say that we’re the same age, he is a few years younger than me.
“Where would we meet?” I manage to type to this complete stranger
“We can do this at my place”
He’s not backing out I think to myself. Can I really do this? It’s so bad, so dangerous and so wrong. I’m a married woman and I do love my husband and kids. I just had an affair and told myself over and over that never again. This can’t be happening. Is this what I really wanted? Why don’t I seem to have any control over that? My impulse has already spilled over and I’m in the committed to action mode. My words seem second nature as I schedule the time and place for this guy to fuck me. I realize as we conclude for the night that I never even got ENM_78’s name.
The time in 10:00 in the morning and the place is his. I took the time off work and sat in the local coffee shop staring at the wall since I kissed everyone good-bye. I was trying to look nice without overdoing it. I was still dressed for work but I had on my favourite medium grey half circle skirt that was loose to my knees, my top was tight fitting and white, I had my nice gold earrings and silver bracelets and I did my hair with a little more care than usual.
It was taking forever for the time to come. I keep going to the bathroom and the staff is starting to notice my nervous behaviour so I leave to sit in the car. At about 10 I drive to his place, which even with a GPS takes me a bit to find. He lives on the main floor of a house split into apartments. It’s not flashy and he isn’t rich by any means but seems comfortable.
When he comes to the door I’m too nervous to speak, my breath is gone and I feel like I might cry from the stress.
“Michelle, come on in, nice to meet you” he says
Not sure how nice it could be as I’m feeling very awkward and nervous and this isn’t lost on him. The surroundinsg are so foreign to me. He is clearly a single guy and living the single life. Nothing wrong with that, it’s more what’s wrong with me. How could I be there? Living his life? Or trying to live Angie’s life. Things get much stranger from there.
From force of instinct he senses my fight or flight type of response that’s blurring through my head and he decides not to waste time. There were no pleasantries, nothing to settle down and get to know you, we were there for one thing and that was it. He tells me to sit in the chair in the kitchen and right away he takes his dick out and puts it in my mouth. In a way this broke any barrier of indecision; this was happening. I did my best to do it well. I spent a lot of time licking up and down, putting the tip of my tongue right on the head and then back down. Each time putting a bit more of his hardening cock in my mouth. Every now and then I look up and ask him if he likes it.
I keep going for at least 20 minutes and I figure he will cum and then that will be that. I’m relieved at the possibility as my nerves haven’t left me. I feel tense all through my body and especially so in my vagina. I start thinking about what a mistake I made and how bad it is but maybe it won’t get worse. At which point he opens a drawer and retrieves a condom.
“Come on it’s time” is all he says as he leads me into the bedroom that is beside the kitchen.
“Don’t worry it will be ok” as he undresses and discards my carefully chosen clothes.
He’s not interested in clothes. He doesn’t care about any of that. This guy that I don’t even know the first thing about wants to fuck me. I close my eyes and lay on the bed with my legs spread, he settles between them and starts pressing on my entrance. I am accepting him but my nerves seem to be rejecting as he’s having a hard time penetrating.
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