"Time's a-rolling," thought Debbie, as she pecked at the keyboard of her laptop, trying to get started on some serious surfing. She realized her friends were right – at least in one aspect of their oft-repeated, unsolicited advice: She'd been divorced for almost four years, and, at the age of 39, it was time to get back into circulation. As a single mother of three, everyone agreed she was a wonderful parent. But the kids were all doing just fine in school – one in each: elementary, middle, and secondary schools – and Debbie had not, until very recently, had sex since her amicable breakup four years prior.
She smiled when she thought about that recent sexual history. She had actually boinked someone at a party – someone she had just met! The recollection played across her mind. She had been feeling a bit tipsy, not, perhaps, making the best decisions. Introduced to Darren by an acquaintance, she'd thought him mild-mannered, but in good shape – cute. He'd flirted with her from the get-go, and their conversation had soon become laden with innuendo.
Giggling like a couple of teenagers, they'd wandered, snooping, about the house, and, surreptitiously, had found an apparently unused room in the back of the basement, with a bed in it. Debbie had fixed on Darren's eyes, flashing a coy smile. Suddenly they were pulling at each other's clothes, mashing lips, and tumbling onto the scuzzy mattress. Darren freed one of her boobs and began sucking feverishly on her nipple as she fished his growing erection out of his pants whilst attempting to squirm out of her own jeans. His cock was impressive as it stiffened and throbbed in her hand. It was probably not particularly big, she'd mused, but she'd lost her frame of reference as it had been a while since she'd even seen an adult penis.
Their sex was actually rushed and furtive, so as, they both realized, not to get caught; still, neither his initial penetration, nor his rabbit-like thrusts were as good – as special – as she would have liked. It was, more or less, a 'wham-bam-thank-you-Ma'am!' quickie, and while it felt nice, Debbie didn't get anywhere close to cumming.
As they made their way back upstairs, to join the party once again, Darren shyly asked her for her number – asked if he might call her. "What the heck!" she thought to herself, enjoying a warm satisfaction at his complimentary request. So, she gave it to him. He promised to call, as they each melted back into the crowd. Being a good five or six years his senior, Debbie didn't, realistically, expect to hear from him; still, it got her mind a-thinking. Maybe she could get back into circulation – maybe she should.
And so it was that she accepted when Darren called a couple weeks later, and she found herself on a bona fide date – the first in absolute years!
Dinner and drinks were pleasant. He was a good conversationalist, and the time passed easily. When they settled up at the restaurant – he, gallantly, covering the bill, he asked, rather tentatively, "Would you like to come back to my apartment for a nightcap?" adding, in a rush, "It's not far. And I'll drive you home as soon as you'd like."
Debbie smiled at his uncertainty, impressed by his lack of presumption. "Yes, that would be very nice. I'd like that."
Back at his apartment, Darren took her coat and went, right away, to fix her a night-cap at the little bar area next to his kitchen. "A great deal of water has flowed under the bridges of my life," Debbie mused silently, as Darren sat next to her on the couch, and they each sipped their drinks. They both knew what they're there for, so, she wasn't about to hold to any "no sex on a first date regime." Drinks and small-talk out of the way, Darren leaned in to snuzzle, and kanoodle. Debbie reciprocated. In fact, making out was fun. Soon they were both pawing and groping aggressively. Debbie let Darren steer her into his bedroom and onto his bed.
The sex itself even started out okay – but, that was it, sort of ho-hum. As they got naked, Debbie momentarily disengaged, to drop down and engulf his rising rod with her mouth. After only a few tries, she had him rock-hard and deep in her throat. "I'm gonna cum!" he warned, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Pulling off him, Debbie gasped, "Not yet!" and squirmed up the bed again to lie on her back beside his panting and quaking body. She felt the stirrings of arousal as he rolled onto her and thrust into her, but it barely progressed. Rapidly, frenetically pounding, he suddenly stiffened and, throwing his head back, held himself frozen as his cock bucked and spurted deep within her. "Lucky I got myself back on the pill," Debbie observed objectively to herself.
After he'd climaxed Darren turned his attention on her. He was, she realized, perceptive enough to realize that she hadn't yet achieved orgasm during either of their sessions. So, Darren valiantly threw himself into trying to get her there. Unfortunately, he only managed to make her nipples sore and her pussy numb, as what excitement she had felt slipped quietly away. Debbie felt bad for him; nonetheless, she had to fake an orgasm to get him to stop. As they got dressed and Darren drove her home, Debbie, in deference to his male ego, fibbed about her pleasure and fulfilment.
She said goodnight at the curb and let herself in through her front door. "That was too bad," she muttered to herself, as she closed the door. It had been, in the end, a sadly unsatisfactory evening. She knew she would be employing her vibrator before she would be able to sleep that night.
Of course, her dissatisfaction was, in no small part, due to the fact that that was actually the third of the three recent bops – the third event of her re-entry into the world of sexual affairs. But, the second time, that was the one she couldn't stop thinking about. An encounter of anonymous, rough, spontaneous sex, that had pretty much blind-sided her. And the orgasm – or orgasms – it had produced.
It had happened, she dreamily recalled, staring idly at the computer screen, while she was at a bar with girlfriends – a sort of 'girls'-night-out'.
Vacantly scanning the room, she had made eye contact with a hunk at a neighbouring table. She remembered thinking that he was very easy to look at – solid and angular, and very macho. He'd looked up while she was staring blankly at him, and caught her eye. He held her gaze like a tractor-beam, for a very long moment, a mischievous grin forming on his lips. Then, he'd gestured with a slight nod. Standing casually, still watching her, he'd sauntered over toward the washroom hallway.
Excusing herself with a preoccupied mutter, Debbie rose and followed, trancelike. Consciously resisting the urge to hurry, she headed after him towards the washrooms. Waiting just inside the hall entrance, he'd quietly and firmly grasped her elbow and guided her into disabled restroom.
"This'll work," he said quietly, closing the door behind them. From his accent she surmised he was an Aussie, although they hadn't said much – they didn't even exchange names. Still, she'd somehow deduced that he was a real macho chauvinist – not, typically, her type, at all. She'd thought all of this in the instant before he grabbed her by the cheeks and crushed his mouth against hers. The kiss held more raw passion than she was used to. Debbie struggled to maintain her equilibrium, while attempting to return the seething lust in kind. He virtually slammed her against the wall, as he began pulling at her clothes without letting up his aggressive assault on her mouth. Debbie's pussy had clutched tight then blossomed, letting go a gush of her juices. She could, even now, at the vivid recollection, feel a tingle in her pussy.
As he undid her jeans and shoved them off her hips, she kicked one leg free. Smoothly, with little apparent effort, he lifted her, depositing her onto the vanity with a 'plonk', perching her there, crowded next to the sink. Reaching in, he grabbed the gusset of her panties, and with an abrupt tug, tore them off her, leaving the shredded remnants dangling from her waist and her thighs. Still pushing his mouth against hers, holding her back against the mirror, he dropped his hands to fumble briefly with his fly, and open his jeans.
Debbie suddenly felt the unmistakable bulk of his impressively growing erection pressing against her pubis. "He must be going commando," some objective back corner of her psyche observed, with a smirk. "Obviously no underpants to slow him down!" She could feel his weapon, lying amongst her bush, long before she could see it. He wiggled his butt for a moment, tilting his hips, until his hot, fleshy cockhead bulled against Debbie's drooling pussy. Her puffy labia separated eagerly, allowing the rampant prick unencumbered access – access to her damp, slick, fully-blossomed quim.
As he thrusted into her, he swung her off her precarious seat, and held her off her feet, pressed against wall. Debbie was staggered by the violence of the entry, but she was even more surprised by the heady ecstasy it produced. It lit up her senses, igniting a hitherto unknown level of stimulation. Her vagina offered absolutely no resistance. Flooding, as it was, with copious natural lubrication, it welcomed his penetrating shaft, her hot flesh grasping, gripping, and throbbing around him. She could almost imagine that she could feel the veined texture of him as he relentlessly drove himself into her, and her excitement sparkled behind her eyes and down her spine.
As he pounded her mercilessly, she felt a sharp spike of hyper-arousal. A monster orgasm was breaking the surface, inundating her with sensation – exciting every nerve in her being. And she could feel, too, his steely sceptre jolt and pulse as he came simultaneously with her, persistently hammering right through the thundering echoes of their shared climax.
As they came back to earth, he gently lowered her to the floor, then, tucking himself in, he smiled, thanked her, and left.
"What was that?" Debbie mused, aloud, giving her head a shake. "Since when do I get off on rough sex?" Dazed, her mind in a post-orgasmic haze, she straightened her clothing, got herself together, then exited the corridor back into the bar. She just caught sight of him as he settled back into his seat at the table with his buddies. He didn't even glance her way. Returning to her girlfriends' table, she felt more than a little shell-shocked and distracted, trying vainly to process the encounter. The girls all gave her questioning looks, and she quietly had to reassure them that there was nothing wrong – nothing at all. For the rest of the evening, though, Debbie stole glances in the direction of her erstwhile lover, but never once caught his eye.
Debbie remained preoccupied for the rest of the night, mulling a question over and over. "Why is it that I shiver and tingle, every time I run that... whatever, through my head? How come sparkles run down my back and gather in my cunt, every time I relive it?" Was it, she asked herself, his complete domination that fired her up? How is it she could be so enamored by the no-nonsense, take charge attitude of a complete stranger? Or was it, and this required quite a bit of consideration, more her complete submission that really turned her on! "Boy, oh boy," she murmured to herself, "that's scary! Thrilling, but scary."
