No Turning Back
soppingwetpanties
Dedicated to L.K.
She doesn't want to, but she really does.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
I'm on a stage. The spotlight is on me. I'm naked and lying between the legs of a woman I don't know, except that I just finished eating her pussy. My face is covered in her cum. My best friend Ally is in the audience, as well as my friends Sally, Louise, Sarah and Hollie. I can't see them but I'm sure their mouths are agape. There must be at least twenty club members watching me in this large, private room. They're all watching, some are having sex, while they're witnessing a novice enter their world of domination and submission. I've never been more embarrassed in my life. It isn't a dream.
My pussy is drenched. I think I've already cum twice. I'm on an endorphin driven high that dwarfs the years of boring marital sex. I've finally come to realize that I shouldn't be ashamed of my inner desires.
I'm forty-two and divorced. I have four children. I'm an account manager for a greeting card company. I've never even gotten a parking ticket before. How did I get here?
* * *
I'm Karen. Ms. Barnett to the people at work. Some of my friends call me Kara. My ex-husband did. That was until I caught him fucking our nanny in our bed when I came home early from a visit with my mother after a stomach virus got the best of me. What I saw in our bedroom made me sicker than any virus. After my initial rage I asked him why. Why did he betray me? He stuttered some lame excuse about me not being there for him. That was a joke. Our twenty-one year old nanny was sitting up on my side of the bed, desperately clutching a sheet to cover her exposed breasts. I told her to get the fuck out of here and I never saw her again. I wish I could have said the same about my soon to be ex-husband.
For the last five years I've been raising our four kids by myself, and between the demands of four children in school, I barely have time for any kind of recreation, let alone sex.
I'd only been on a few dates since the divorce, and those were, predictably, a disaster. That isn't to say that I didn't have needs. I did. When I was married, my mind (and body) didn't really stray from my then husband Gary. Not really. I had the occasional fantasy about the well-muscled and tanned gardener or the handsome thirty something neighbor down the street, but it was all harmless. I never came close to acting out any of my fantasies. Instead, I resorted to erotic literature, online porn, and my vibrator.
I didn't really explore my sexuality when I was married. Gary was always horny, but it was always straight missionary sex, sometime with a blowjob thrown in. He was a meat and potatoes guy all the way. I thought it was good, and occasionally great, but I didn't really have a frame of reference since I'd only had sex with Gary (if you disregard the handful of one nighters I had in college).
So I think you get the picture. I'd spent most of my adult life raising kids and trying to keep my marriage together. I was hopefully successful in at least one of those endeavors. Since the divorce, I was on my own for the first time in as long as I could remember. Really alone. I didn't invest any of my time in making friends while the kids were at home. Yes, I had friends I made through our children, but they were just social friends. I didn't have any real friends. Friends that I could share my deepest and darkest thoughts with. Those kinds of friends.
At forty-two, it was harder to get men to notice you. There were a few more creases around my eyes, and maybe I was carrying a few more pounds on my hips, but on the plus side my breasts were bigger, much bigger, than the average woman. One advantage of my age was that I knew how to carry myself. I'd outgrown my adolescent insecurities and was generally more confident in my decision making. Some men liked that. Most didn't. I wanted to find a man who appreciated me for who I was, and not for who I might be.
I had a couple false starts through the dating app my sister talked me into trying. It was a life changing experience, and not in a good way. I couldn't take the awkwardness of meeting someone and invariably deciding that I didn't like him. The next hour or two, trying to wind down a bad date, would be true agony. I didn't know how I was going to meet anyone on my own.
So I spent a lot of weekends at home. It sucked. Plus the child support payments stopped from my deadbeat ex. I had to find a job. I spent six months looking. Before I had kids I went to college to become a teacher. Got my certificate and was ready to join my first job as an elementary school teacher when I found out (we weren't trying at that time) I was having our first child. My then husband was making enough that I could leave my position and stay home full-time. Since it was my first, I wanted to stay home for at least a year. Then I had another child, then another, and before I knew it twenty years had flown by. I had to shake off twenty years of rust and join the workforce. I wasn't looking forward to it.
Job hunting sucked worse than online dating. I started with looking for teaching positions, but there was such a surplus of younger and more qualified applicants. I didn't even get any callbacks. I was frustrated and tired. My kids were driving me nuts. By necessity, I widened my search, applying for positions that I knew little about and had little interest in. Working at an animal shelter, tending bar, and finally, working as a sales associate for a national greeting card company. Its headquarters was in my town. It was my only callback. They hired me on the spot.
My story really started with my first day at my new job. Forty-two, but feeling again like I was twenty-two, with first day jitters. It was June 15. I remember the day because it was my birthday. I was joining the sales department as an entry level employee. The oldest of the six newbies, by far. I was twelve years older than the oldest of them. I stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb.
The thirty year old was Ally.
Who didn't love Ally?
She had shiny long blonde hair, I think natural, and the deepest blue eyes. She was shorter and heavier than me, but the weight was in all the right places with a 34DD bust and a generous booty. I was taller and thinner, and always envied her perfect curves. But her best feature was her infectious personality. She was always the life of the party. I found that out when she brought coffee and doughnuts to our orientation. She said it was her goal to make every day at work a fun day as well. She was a glass is half full person, where I was pretty much a glass is half empty gal. I liked her outlook on life better.
We bonded that first day, and before long it was breakfast and lunch together in the employee cafeteria and an occasional drink together after work. She was always a bit sketchy on her personal details, but being work buddies, I thought it was her call on what she wanted to tell me and I did likewise with her, though I had little in my background I thought was scandalous.
A bonding moment came from our interactions with our supervisor, Dan Hogan. Dan was a "by the book" person. We were always making fun of him behind his back. From the pictures on his desk, I gathered he was married with an adorable wife and two cute children. He always wore a coat and tie to work, even on casual Fridays. He was probably pretty buffed when he was younger, but middle age brought with it a paunch and slightly rounded shoulders from so much time behind his desk. He was a stickler for timely sales reports, and on more than one occasion took both Ally and me "behind the woodshed" to stress the importance of strict adherence to company policy.
Ally thought he was an asshole. I thought he was just uptight.
Dan was always tasking us with extra work, and one day he asked me to summarize the group's sales reports into a power point presentation that he would be giving to upper management. I thought it was an opportunity for me to shine, so I pulled an all-nighter at the office to develop and polish it. Ally volunteered to help me, and stayed with me the entire time, pulling data and proofing the finished product. Ally proved she was a friend, working with me side by side without sleep.
Ally and I officed on the opposite end of the floor from Dan, so early the next morning when the presentation was ready we went to his office, expecting him not to be there, to drop off the printed presentation package on his desk. I opened his office door without knocking (it was 6:30 a.m.), and much to Ally and my surprise, Dan was changing from his casual clothes he commuted in to the work clothes he kept in his closet.
He was startled to see us, but not as startled as us, as we saw him quickly pull his slacks over a white adult diaper. It was a frightening sight, seeing his lily white skin and the leg hairs sticking out from under the diaper. He looked highly embarrassed (I don't there's a word for his facial expression), and I slammed the door shut, forgetting to drop off the report. Ally saw the same thing I did, and we both ran back to the break room, trying not to laugh.
"What the fuck Karen," Ally said as we arrived at the small alcove that held a coffee station and a roundtop that seated four. "What did we just see?"
"I think Dan has an incontinence problem, or maybe he's into some very kinky shit."
"I think he's only forty. Shouldn't be having those kind of problems at his age. I read about guys who like to be dressed as babies." She picked up her coffee mug and took her first sip from a new pot. "Diaper Dan," she mused. We both laughed at our boss's new nickname. I tried to picture him in his diaper over my knee, begging for a spanking. It was a bad visual.
Every time we saw Dan, one of the two of us would whisper "Diaper Dan," and the two of us would crack up. I'm sure heard us laughing at him, though he pretended not to hear it (the image of him, squatting on the floor in his diaper with his pants puddled around his ankles ... it made me shiver ever time those indelible images were stirred up in my head). After that incident, Dan kept his distance from us ... and he never again bugged about our late sales reports.
Ally changed my mindset about work, and had an even more profound impact on the way I lived. I didn't consider myself unattractive, but I paled in comparison to my stunningly gorgeous new best friend. She was a head turner. Some men loved her face or her blonde hair. Others were smitten with her curves. But all could agree it was her personality that tied her whole package together. She dressed beautifully and tastefully, often making me wonder where she got the money to afford such well-tailored (and sexy) clothes. She wasn't afraid to share her opinion of the way I dressed, which was in her words "horrible." I think she mumbled something about me being dressed like her grandmother.
When I first got to know her, she had a running criticism of what I was wearing. She said I was being dressed not to be noticed. Harsh but accurate. I dressed like I was part of the wallpaper background.
She took me on a shopping trip to a high end department store. We went into the women's department, but not the "affordable" one I might browse in, but in one that was two floors up, where serious money was paid for a skirt or a pair of shoes. When we got off the escalator Ally went to the back of the department and asked me to wait. I flipped through a rack of designer jackets. The cheapest one was over $1,000. I took pleasure in fingering rows and rows of fine cotton and soft wool. The aisle I was standing in was occupied by two smartly dressed women, both probably in their 40's, who were sporting large diamonds and even bigger fake boobs. They both looked at me as if I didn't belong ... which I didn't.
