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Jen’s story.
I guess that many would say that as one of the ‘baby boomer’ generation I’ve had just about the best of everything. Life was good growing up and although socially conventional my Mum and Dad were easy going and remarkably open about emotions and sexuality. I lost my virginity at college and had a few steady relationships before I met Bob but I knew at once that he was the man I wanted to father my children.
Like most young couples we struggled at first but we were doing fine. Then after the birth of our second child, when she was four months old, I suddenly felt that I just couldn’t do it any more, couldn’t carry the burden of the kid’s demands, running the house, always ‘being there’ for Bob and the crushing sense that I had lost ‘me’. I seemed to have no identity of my own that was separate from the house or the family and I just cracked.
I told my neighbour that I had to go out, asked her to look after the kids for a couple hours, wrote a note for Bob and left or, more truthfully, ran away.
Before the days of cell phones, the internet or security cameras I had simply vanished and a few hours later I was on the south coast and I was free.
I replaced my home clothes with a couple of pairs of second-hand jeans and a few t-shirts, got a job waiting tables in a café and found myself a bedsit.
Most of all I had time, all the time that I had never had to myself at home, no pulls and tugs to cook meals or do laundry, no schedules for pre-school or nursery and I had the freedom to be me … just me and I loved it.
I know it was it was selfish, it almost broke Bob’s heart; the children were confused, wondering why their mother wasn’t with them and why grandma seemed to have taken over her role but the reality was that it wasn’t the real me that had left, it was the lady who was playing the role of housewife and mother and if I hadn’t left then I truly believe that I would have snapped under the strain of being somebody that wasn’t really me and then they would have lost me — for good.
I was that close to quitting this life.
But of course the saving grace was that Bob was wise and patient, not hysterical and angry, and he just got on with the business of work and family, believing always that in my own time I’d come home.
After work in the evenings I’d hang out listening to music in the clubs and I discovered that I was still an attractive woman and that men wanted to talk with me or to share a drink.
I felt like an individual again, able once more to value myself for who I was rather than for who I was married to or whose mother I was.
There was one guy, quite a few years younger than me I guessed, who had started to come in the café every morning on his way to work.
I noticed him because he was almost beautiful, as if a sculptor had tried to take all the best features of a man and form them into his work and yet somehow had failed. His full lips and fine nose, eyes that captivated and a strong lithe frame, all perfect in their own way, and yet somehow they failed to meld.
But he was always friendly and polite and we’d chat and smile and when a few weeks later he asked me out on a date I said ‘Yes’.
His name was Jerry and we met for drinks at six thirty.
Jerry seemed very nervous as if he had little experience of dating but he was sweet and had bought me a single rose from one of the flower stalls in the market.
He asked me what I liked to eat and so I suggested a fish restaurant I knew and by eight o’clock we were sat opposite each other, holding hands across the table. He rubbed the mark on my ring finger where my wedding band had been, gently massaging the spot with his thumb as if trying to erase it or perhaps fathom out why the ring was missing.
I smiled at him and shook my head gently. “Don’t ask Jerry. It’s a long story and it’s not for now, not for tonight, if ever.”
So our conversation was light and inconsequential but good fun all the same. He had a keen sense of humour and we laughed a lot. By ten o’clock we were walking arm in arm towards my bedsit and at the door I stopped and turned to face him.
For a moment we just stood there, me wondering if he’d try to kiss me and Jerry, kind of frozen to the spot as if he had no idea of what he should do or what was and wasn’t acceptable.
“Why don’t you come up for a coffee?”
It was as if he’d been waiting for a signal from me or perhaps he thought it was code for ‘I’m yours’ but no sooner had I asked him than he pulled me to him and kissed me on my mouth, his tongue darting against my lips.
I pushed him away laughing “Hey, steady tiger, it’s only a coffee. You do understand?”
Immediately he released me and took a step back from me, apologising as he did “Sorry, s..s..sorry, I..I.. …sorry.”
“Hey, it’s ok, just don’t be so eager, take it easy, there’s no hurry.” and taking his hand, I opened the street door and led him up the stairs to my room.
I put on some music and started the coffee to brew. “Sit down, make yourself at home” I called Ankara bayan escort over my shoulder.
Jerry was sat on the edge of the bed like a child waiting to be given a present or perhaps reprimanded. I put the coffee on the bedside table and sat next to him, taking his hands in mine.
“I’m so sorry about what happened downstairs” he stammered, “I don’t know…”
“It’s ok, it doesn’t matter” I smiled at him. He was so nervous. “Not been on many dates huh?” I offered.
Jerry blushed deep red to his hair roots “No not many, in fact only a couple. I’ll go if you want.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He was so sweet, so young, maybe twenty one or twenty two to my thirty six years and so, so innocent. I leant forward and pressed my lips gently against his and then more firmly, taking his lower lip between mine for a moment and then kissing his cheeks and his eyes and then his lips again, more firmly this time, tracing their outline with the tip of my tongue He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue against mine.
“Ssh, gently tiger, slowly, like this is the most precious moment of your life.”
I kissed him again, teasing his lips with my tongue and this time he opened his mouth a little and I let my tongue find the tip of his, tentative little touches at first, then more, allowing my tongue to follow his and his following mine until his tongue was just on my lips, waiting, wanting. I opened my mouth a little, inviting him and now wanting him as he took his cue from me, this time his tongue teasing mine and then as I opened my mouth fully to him, swirling his tongue ever deeper with mine, our lips locked together as we fell back against the pillows, our feet still over the edge of the bed. He stopped suddenly as if startled to find himself half lying beside me so I kicked off my shoes and he followed suit, kicking his off as well and lying beside me, this time both of us fully on the bed. We kissed again and I lifted my t shirt and bra, guiding his mouth to my breast.
His erection was hard against me and I pressed against him, pushing my pelvic bone against his loins as he suckled eagerly at my swollen nipple.
Suddenly he arched his back, thrusting against me, a half strangled cry escaping from his throat as he quivered against me, his orgasm overtaking him, unrestrained and, for him, unrestrainable and I cradled his head against my breast as he spent himself, soothing him, holding him to me in his moment of despair.
In a while I undressed him and then, undressing myself, pulled the covers over us. He was covered with his semen, wet and sticky as I ran my hand over his belly and into the tangle of his matted pubic hair, massaging his cum into his now flaccid penis and cradling his shrunken balls. I pulled him close to me, pressing my belly against his, savouring the sweet body scent of this so very young man and he curled into me, seeking comfort as if from his mother.
I knew then it was time to go home but the memory of what might have been that night stayed with me and Jerry became the image of my fantasy lover.
Whenever I wanted I could conjure his face into my mind and let him have me in any way that I could imagine for, because Jerry and I hadn’t made love that night, his memory wasn’t tainted in any way; he was unblemished and I could let my imagination run wild.
Some nights with my husband Bob, when his hands would creep under my nightie but I wasn’t in the mood, it would be Jerry’s face and Jerry’s imagined hands and penis that I would be surrendering to, feeling him penetrating me and the sensation of his youthful explosion of semen filling me. I would be a million miles away from our marital bed, enjoying in my mind that very young but eager lover and when I orgasmed I had to be careful not to call out his name so that ‘Oh Jerry…’ became ‘Oh Jer…eesus…’ but when I was on my own, masturbating, it would be Jerry’s name that I hissed from between clenched teeth as I came, for he was my secret lover.
Was this deceptive of me or was I deceiving myself? Well possibly both but it allowed me to fill my mind with the fantasy of making love with another man and yet not endanger my marriage by actually doing so.
Don’t misunderstand me, life was good and I loved my husband as much as any woman can and relished the feel of his body on me, in me, taking me, filling me. But inside me there was always this itch born of that unconsummated night with Jerry and I knew that someday I would have to scratch it.
?
Bob’s story.
“Hi Bob?” The woman’s voice on my phone was familiar but I couldn’t place it in the context of my work.
“… it’s just that I’m a little concerned. Jen asked me to look after your girls for a couple of hours this morning but she hasn’t come back and well it’s nearly four o’clock now and I was wondering if you knew where she was or when she’d be back? It’s just that I have some errands to run.”
Instantly I placed the voice. It was our neighbour Wendy, a widow who would baby sit for us from time to time. Escort bayan Ankara Panic and fear surged through me as my mind filled with images of car wrecks or any one of a dozen other imagined catastrophes that could have befallen Jen.
“Ah Wendy, ah… I don’t ah… know…I’ll… I’ll be right over and collect the girls. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Hurriedly grabbing my coat I dashed out of my office for the car park calling over my shoulder as I left: “Sorry guys, gotta go, family crisis… see you in the morning.”
Wendy opened her front door to my knock. “Is everything ok Bob? I mean is Jen ok?”
“Yeah sure Wendy she’s fine, just running a little late. Thanks for having the kids. I’ll let you get away on your errands.”
Behind our own closed front door the panic set in again.
“Daddy, where’s Mummy” Our three year old’s question rammed the reality of the situation home to me. Where was mummy?
Then I saw the note, propped against a vase on the kitchen table, a plain envelope with my name on the front.
My hands trembled as I opened it. Had she done something terrible — left for someone else or what? Or… Oh my god… could this be a suicide note? Where was she? Taking a couple of deep breaths I unfolded the letter and began to read.
“Hi Bob, my man, my love,
I’m sorry that I don’t have the courage to say these words to you face to face but although my need in this is overwhelming my resolve is fragile and I think wouldn’t hold out if I had to tell you direct.
Bob honey, I’m living a lie. I’m being someone, playing the role of mother and wife, that isn’t me. Do you remember me when we met — carefree, spontaneous, sexy and free?
Do you Bob… do you remember?
Or think of me yesterday or last week or last year — programmed like some automaton, distracted, tired, lack-lustre and oh-so-not sexy?
I want the old me back Bob, not just for me but for you so that I can love you in the way your lover should, so that I can mother our children in the way that their mother should, filling them with wonder and adventure, teaching them to be inquisitive and enquiring.
I’m going to be away for a while honey and I don’t know how long that is but it will be until I can come back to you as the woman I was and the woman you fell in love with.
Take care of our girls. I love you all so very much.
Jen. X”
My mother arrived to look after the house and the girls and at first I counted every day, waiting for a call or a letter. But after three weeks despair started to give way to anger. How could Jen do this? Had she no sense of responsibility? If she came back could things be the same again anyway?
It was a Thursday evening at the school PTA meeting. Our neighbour Mary asked me how I was.
“OK I guess but I’m starting to run out of compassion and patience. I long for some normality, some company.”
She was sympathetic and kind and she listened to me.
“Would you like me to fix you dinner? My husband is away all week. I could do with the company too.”
And that’s how I came to be sitting next to Mary on her sofa sharing an after dinner cognac and a joint with her.
I was looking at her, feeling the time crawling along and then rushing to catch up, seeing everything about her in minute detail and then losing her to a soft focus, her eyes alight with excitement and the pink tip of her tongue adding a sheen to her lips. As I leaned in to kiss her it was as if we were both falling, me towards her and her away so that I wasn’t sure that my mouth would ever make contact with hers and then in a rush we were caught up together as if the air had been sucked out from the space between us and our mouths and bodies were slammed together in a tangle of lips and saliva, tongues wrestling with each other’s, hands grasping and pulling, the firmness of her breasts and the hardness of her nipples and the achingly sensuous touch of her hand slipped inside the front of my chinos finding my rigid penis and then a sudden rush to silence and serenity as my hand found the silken skin beneath her skirt and the gasps and moans from her as I pressed my fingers hard against the wet fabric of her thong where it barely covered her vulva.
And then again the sudden return to reality and Mary’s hand easing mine away from her and her almost disappointed “I’m sorry Bob, it’s that time of the month I’m afraid… know what I mean?”
And then the laughter, almost hysterical, unable to speak and me breathily “My God we almost did it there didn’t we?” and a final squeeze of her hand on my cock and Mary saying “We will though, soon. I’m not going to let you get off that easily.”
And yet we never did.
It was two days after my encounter with Mary that Jen came home and without seeing her I knew she was back. Somehow as I pulled onto the driveway the house felt complete. Inside the front door my mother’s bag stood ready for departure and she quietly relinquished her role to Jen. No words, no demands for an explanation, just a Bayan escort Ankara hug and a kiss and ‘Thanks for having me to stay’ and she was gone in the taxi that she’d ordered for herself.
Jen was quiet, a little sheepish at first and different but soon more self assured. Gone were the home clothes that she’d left in; now she was in washed out jeans and a sweat shirt, liberated and liberating, painting a vision and a future for the kids, inspiring them as individuals instead of managing them as part of the household chores. The laundry got done when Jen had time, the housework was on a rota that got paid scant attention and Jen was the warm, self assured sexy woman again that I had fallen in love with.
I never asked Jen about what had happened or why. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know or was frightened of finding something out; it was just that I knew that Jen would tell me all that she needed to when she was ready.
Days passed into weeks, weeks into months and by the years’ end we were moving house to a new town and a new job for me.
As I picked up the girls from the school gate for the last time Mary was there, smiling wistfully.
“Take care Bob. I shall always dream of what might have been between us. You are such a very lovely man.”
And then she was gone but not completely, for her memory was often in my mind.
Sometimes when Jen and I made love Mary’s image would fill my mind and it would be her that I was making love to and she was always the woman of my fantasy, the fantasy of her making love with Jen as I watched and masturbated, a fantasy that I knew someday I wanted to make come true.
?
Jen again.
I’d dozed as Bob had driven me home from our dinner with Mike and Elaine but woke as the car scrunched over the gravel of the drive. We went straight to bed and I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.
I was dreaming and somewhere in my dream I could feel someone’s fingers exploring me, touching my wetness and caressing my clit. Jerry’s face swum into view only to be replaced by Mike’s face accompanied by the trickling sound of wine being poured and his voice: “Have you two ever thought about it? Swapping?”
Now I was fuzzily awake and I groaned inwardly. Yes, of course I’d thought about it, not constantly but often, always with Jerry as the other man but now, now that it seemed a real possibility after the conversation at dinner last night, it was Mike’s face that filled my mind as my fingers touched and stroked my labia and clit. My buttocks clenching as the waves started to sweep through me and I had to hold my breath to stop myself crying out as wave after wave coursed through me, sweeping me to a shuddering orgasm, pressing my clit hard with my fingers so that the sweet agony was heightened.
‘Yes, yes oh yes’. I strangled the words in my throat aware of Bob sleeping beside me as the images of Jerry and then Mike flashed before my eyes.
“You awake darling?” The sound of Bob’s voice made me freeze and hold my breath. Had he heard me? Could he tell what I’d been thinking? The images of Jerry and then Mike making love to me had been so intense, so vivid, surely he must know?
Bob was nuzzling his cock between my cheeks and talking to me. “Don’t know why but I just woke up feeling horny for you.”
Dear Bob, my faithful and loving man. I didn’t know if he had heard me masturbating or if I had actually called out as I orgasmed.
I let my breath out slowly, my voice breathy and enticing.
“Mmm that feels good.” I wriggled my butt against the head of his cock as it made contact with my anus aware that soon he must come into contact with my pussy which was still soaking wet from my recent orgasm.
I moved again allowing the head of his cock to slip between my labia and then fully into me but as he pushed into me my mind was filled with images and thoughts of Jerry and then of Mike, for it wasn’t Bob that I wanted; it was someone else, anyone else, the illicit feel of another man’s cock taking me, filling me.
The urge that had started more than twenty years ago that unconsummated night with Jerry needed to be satisfied now and Mike was the one who I was going to get to satisfy me.
By now, Bob was ramming into me hard from behind, hurting me, as if telling me not to think of other men, as if he had read my thoughts.
“Hey, steady tiger.” I moved to make myself more comfortable. “Go easy hon.”
And then as suddenly as he had started he eased to a stop. We lay for a moment and then I pulled away from him and turned to face him.
“You ok hon?” I stroked his face and kissed his forehead.
Was this how it got in a long marriage or was Bob just tired from the evening and from the effects of the wine? I couldn’t tell but he seemed distracted as if he were thinking of something else or perhaps of someone else.
?
It was a couple of weeks later that Bob told me he’d bumped into Elaine in town. Immediately I was excited; perhaps this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Call it female intuition or whatever but I was sure that Bob was as eager as I was to experiment; certainly from his behaviour and the excitement in his voice when he’d told me about meeting Elaine I knew that he was keen on her but would he actually swap partners and have sex with her? And how would he feel about me having sex with Mike?
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32