I am a 34 year old divorced woman. I have recently moved from the small town where I spent my whole life to a larger city, to re-start my life.
My ex-husband had little or no interest in sex. Sometimes it would be months between feeble attempts. There was never anything interesting or creative. No oral, or anal, which I was craving.
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Brandy's generous bosoms rose and fell rapidly. She stared at the small screen of her e-reader. This latest in the series of erotic novels by one of her favourite authors held her rapt attention. It was much more risqué than the timid 'fade to black after the first kiss' romances that she had been reading since the age of twelve.
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A year ago my favourite uncle David died. He had had an illustrious career in the navy serving for a while as an aide to the Queen and later rising to the rank of Admiral. In his papers I found the following handwritten document. It seemed to relate to events which happened in the late 1950s when he accompanied the Queen during a summer holiday on the royal yacht.
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One of the hardest things for me to deal with in my relationship, after a year and a half of being together, is that I'm not the only one she thinks about when she's laying in bed at night. That sometimes, when she's alone, reaching down beneath the sheets to play between her legs, that it's not always me in her mind. Breathing so hard, trying to be quiet while the muscles tighten in her legs, arching her back to the waves of orgasm quaking her lower body and clenching her asshole tight with pleasure, biting her lip to keep from screaming someone else's name.
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This time when I woke up the birds sounded like they should have. I opened one eye, good, my own bed. Something warm and smooth against my back, actually two somethings. If I wasn't such a cynic I would swear they were my wife's boobs. If you remember from our first story we normally sleep in separate beds. Evidently after our first experience with anal sex the night before she decided she wanted more snuggling.
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I had a date on Friday with a boy I had seen a time or two before. I liked him well enough for seeing a movie and dinner, but there were no sparks between us. I hadn't slept with him, so this date was kind of the point where we either were or we weren't, and I just wasn't sure whether we would. And then he called and asked if it were okay if we doubled with a friend of his and another girl.
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Usually, I-75 from Fort Lauderdale to Naples isn't a very exciting ride. But as my car sped along, passing Florida State Road 19 at around 75 mph, I was pretty fired up. Yeah, I noticed the hundred or so gators sunning themselves on the embankment that lines the interstate; that was different. However, the hormones that were coursing through me this day didn't have anything to do with being excited over cars, or mileage, or gators. The drive itself was a nuisance.
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I knew before it was over that I had to write this story, to cement the memory in my mind. To somehow make this surreal experience that once resided only in my darkest fantasies even more real. This was a once in a lifetime experience that's simply too good to let fade with time. So here's my story...
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Even today anal is still a bit of a taboo, more with the older generations then the younger but most girls will simply say "No" to anal and that'll be that, which is a great shame as I think anal is probably the pinnacle of all sexual acts and a sign that a couple love each other enough to do it correctly.
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All he could think about was her ass. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out, and her pussy had provided him more pleasure than most men could only dream about in a lifetime. But he couldn't stop thinking about her asshole, that sweetly puckered opening, so tightly closed, so vulnerable. What was wrong with him?
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