The Aftermath of a Marriage

Still waiting for the divorce.

An intro from Jayne,

Whilst not essential as I believe this stands alone as an erotic adventure story, I do recommend that you read the first two parts before plunging into this.

The period after a marriage breaks down when the parties start living apart is strange. I know as I am going through it right now and have been for the past year or so. To be precise, though, the period of strangeness includes the time prior to the parting where pretty much everything is going tits up.

When a woman starts living alone after many years with her husband, and in my case two children as well, so many things are different mainly because now she has to make the decisions that previously had been his domain. She can choose what to watch on TV, have for dinner and when to eat. She decides when to go out or stay in, what to do socially and where to spend holidays and vacations. It's up to her who she chooses to see, when, where and how often and what she spends her savings or income on. In other words, she become her own boss.

Now, of course, that decision making and choice goes a lot further and involves many other topics and with this being on Literotica the elephant in the room is sex. So, in short, now that she's free she can fuck whoever she chooses, when she pleases and however she wants.

This story is about how I did just that.

This isn't going to be a series of frequently published episodes like some of my catalogue. Instead, it will be an infrequent series linked together with the common theme of how a middle-aged woman copes with the massive lifestyle changes, particularly sexual ones of separation and then divorce.

So that I don't have to keep repeating myself in the stories I am a fairly busty, 34_36D, quite short haired natural blonde with good legs and a nice ass so I've been told. I wear glasses, even to have sex in, I am around five feet six inches tall and weigh in English 10 stones and internationally 140 pounds/65 kgs.

*

Could I do it? Should I? I pondered.

I'd often masturbated as I spoke to Kevin on the phone when he was away on one of his frequent business trips. At first it had just been verbal banter but as his overseas trips got longer, we added cams and viewing as well. So, I had been naked and had got myself off for a man on the phone and my cam several times.

But to do it with a stranger, a cyberpal, someone I'd met on messenger, wow that was a whole new ball game wasn't it? Several men, well quite a lot really, had asked. I'd always said no for my intent was to keep my distance from them and letting them see me naked or not was far from doing that.

I looked on my web activities as a sealed compartment of my life, to which there was only one key-holder, me. No one else knew I even went into chat let alone what I did there and I had no intention of opening it up other than when I wanted to. Equally, I wasn't prepared to go any further than I had so far. I was determined never to meet. Not just because of the dangers involved, but also because it made me feel cheap; as though I was using the net to pick up men something I didn't do in real life either. Odd wasn't it that I'd masturbate with them and could morally and emotionally handle that yet, the idea of meeting any made me feel cheap?

But then I'd always thought I wouldn't talk that much about sex; that I wouldn't tell men what I was wearing, wouldn't undress, bare myself or caress my body, wouldn't look at men on cam as they masturbated and certainly wouldn't say "You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," as I gazed lustfully I suppose at a young man's naked and very rampant body.

In the end, though, I'd always given in, reconciling that as I'd gone this far I might as well...................!!

*

Now and then I got very down about my net involvement. Not only was I, at times, spending hours a day on there but also, I was letting other things slip. I was rushing work, finding excuses to cut golf or avoid seeing friends and missing the gym. I was taking risks and breaking what I'd thought were cardinal rules, particularly with regard to my daughter Sarah. I chatted while she was in the apartment, while she was in her room or the lounge, something I'd vowed not to do for fear of her catching me. But now it got worse, for occasionally I'd get up after having gone to bed at the same time as her and log on again.

Late night brings an entirely different animal onto messenger, a more predatory one, a more assumptive go for it and fuck the consequences one, men that wanted just one thing and that they made very clear.

"Hi are you horny?" or, "Hi wanna see my dick?," were far from uncommon greetings.

Greetings that just months ago would have had me immediately closing down his window. Now, though, as an experienced and adventurous cyber groupie I'd sometimes type back a smartarse remark.

"No, I'm Jayne," or, "Why would I? Seen one seen 'em all?" Or things like that.

My slick answers confused most, many or most people on the net in chat rooms have the intellect of a cretin. But some came back with equally smart or even smarter remarks. And sometimes with those, often after as short a time as twenty minutes or so, I would break my cardinal rule. My vow never to do anything with Sarah there. But I did. I did things while she was there. Things like squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples and telling the guy what I was doing. And yes, I'd cum with them.

It was usually that night or more likely the day after such an event that would find me full of doubt, guilt, remorse and confusion. Why did I do it, what did I really get from it, why couldn't I seem to control it and what might it lead to were all questions I often asked myself with few replies? All these thoughts tormented me. I had answers to none of them, other than perhaps go and get laid, but that gave me even more emotional concerns so until after the divorce became final that was a definite no no! So, I reconciled myself to a few more months of self-sex aided and fully abetted by the wonder technology of the net.

"So, you reckon that I can hide the folders so that no one could find them?" I asked the guy I was chatting to on the net.

"Sure it's easy; I'll explain it once you've gone through the install programme."

He was right and he did.

"So Jay, now you're installed in the cloud as it's called and everything is hidden from prying teenage eyes do I get to celebrate as being the first night audience?"

I smiled. "Well, I suppose I owe you that and you do deserve it, showing me how to stop S finding the chat folders. Hold on."

It took some time getting used to realising that everything I did was being watched by him but I slowly adjusted and after we'd chatted for half hour or so I began to relax and forget about the camera hidden in the PC transmitting my every look, glance and movement.

I recalled the amazing feelings I'd had when my ex, Kevin had photographed me in my underwear, naked or undressing. The sensations I'd got when I touched myself as he was snapping away. How, after the initial nervousness of posing for him to photograph me in glamour shots to perk up our ailing marriage, I'd begun to see the camera as a person and I started making love to it.

I guess there's a latent exhibitionist in many of us and that had confirmed it for me. I'd always thought there might be, but neither I or Kevin had exploited it. Sure, we'd had sex in dangerous places such as cars, trains, in a plane loo joining the mile high club and outdoors in woods and on beaches, but nothing really significant.

And of course, in the real-sex starved situation I was in, where masturbation was my only relief from the pangs of frustration, any embellishment to my self-sex process was welcome. I'd accepted chatting, gone with exchanging steamy e-mails, taken on board looking at cams, had embraced voice sex and had written numerous erotic stories. Having my own cam was the next logical and, in many ways, inevitable extension, wasn't it?

"I know Jay, I know exactly how you feel" the very considerate American guy said as I gazed at him and as he gazed at me via the magic of the cams.

Tom and I hadn't actually chatted that much, but we'd exchanged emails for a few weeks that in cybertime was an age We'd developed a complicated story about how I, a thirty-five-year-old single woman living in the US, was seeking to lead a life that was to become more and more dedicated to exploring the erotic, sexual experimentation and extending the boundaries of my sexuality. That had enabled us write the most graphic accounts of practically every imaginable sexual experience and encounter. It had been so exciting to write my parts then read his.

He was wearing a dark blue silk dressing gown and was sitting on a bar stool at the bar of his den in his house just outside Chicago. His laptop was on the bar and he had a remote control in his hand that enabled him to zoom in and out. That was good for I got close ups of his face and then full-length shots where I saw that the folds of the gown had parted a bit and one of his long, slender legs was bare. He wasn't at all self-conscious and I guessed, though I didn't ask, that he'd done this many times before.

I'd seen a photo of him and I knew that he was in his fifties, but I'd forgotten what he looked like and so I was pleasantly surprised by his distinguished, ruggedly handsome demeanour and what looked to be a lean, fit, toned body. At least that's how he'd described it and so far he was living up to his physical description.

"You just watch me Jay and let me ask you what I'd like you to do. Is that ok?"

"Yes, yes ok Tom, that's ok," I mumbled nervously into the microphone, getting my words mixed up a little.

"And if you get uncomfortable at any time we'll stop, ok?"

He knew this was my first time on cam. We'd masturbated together talking to each other a couple of times but this was new, well to me at least. We were going to watch each other masturbating as we imagined we were making love to each other.

"So, Jay why don't you slowly undo those buttons on your blouse that are just bursting to be opened?"

Looking down I couldn't help smiling when I saw that the buttons on the crisp, white business blouse were indeed straining against the buttonholes.

"Mmmm Jay," Tom said, "they're looking every bit as good for real as they do in the photos," he went on as the tops of my breasts were revealed. "Do they have to stop there Jayne?" He asked moving on his stool so that the gown fell open a little more from his legs and gaped more at the lapels. He had a nice covering of hair on his tanned chest and legs and I thought, despite his age, he looked great. I began to get worked up.

"No Tom they don't," I said glancing at the screen as my fingers fumbled the remaining four buttons beneath my bust under undone. I pulled the tail of the blouse from the tight waistband of the skirt and went to remove it.

"No Jay," he said quite sharply, "Leave it on a while."

Never failing to be amazed by the vagaries of men where sex is concerned, I shrugged. From my, now quite extensive chat room involvement that had gone on for several months, I'd learned that some like you to keep your panties on even as they fuck you, while some want to rip them off you. Others like the bra being kept on so they can pull your tits out from it while others want it off quick. Yet others like the girl to keep her clothes on and bunch them round her waist whilst some, and I'd noticed they're becoming the minority, want you naked.

We talked at some length about our correspondence and a few other things and although it was teatime for me and breakfast for Tom we were quite animated. We both became nicely relaxed as Tom gradually let his gown slither open. The lapels now gaped down to his waist and his legs were almost completely bare. There was no more than six inches of the robe down from his genitals. One shrug, one sudden movement, one overt action on his part and he'd be bare and that excited me. He was raising the sexual temperature not just by how he was almost revealing himself but also by his remarks.

"We'd be so good together Jay. We would make love all night. You me and Mary or Kath or Lisa Jay, or all of us at once," he said referring to the women we'd had 3somes with in our wild narratives. "I want you so much."

He was priming me, arousing me, getting me ready and preparing me for what I'd once told him I dreaded. "Slip the blouse off now Jayne," he whispered between telling me at some length how wonderful my breasts were and casually taking hold of the tie round the waist of the robe. It was almost as though we were in the same room. I could look right into his eyes and feel his gaze boring into mine and roaming all over my body.

I heard Tom say, as if from afar, "Hey Jay, my lovely wanton randy Jay," as I dropped the blouse on the floor continuing with, "What shall we do next Jayne? The bra and see those gorgeous tits or the skirt and get nearer to your pussy?" That pulled me back to reality, well the reality of the fantasy of fucking via a cam that is.

"I don't know," I said quietly suddenly feeling a little embarrassed in front of him as my nipples were very hard and almost bursting through the thin lace of the bra. He quickly got me back on track as he said croakily.

"Let's do the bra darling? Let's get those gorgeous tits out so we can play with them? You do like playing with them don't you Jay?" he continued as I saw him starting to pull on the tie. "Don't you Jay? Don't you? You do like playing with those big titties don't you?" he went on demanding an answer as he undid the bow at his waist.

I was transfixed. Aroused and intrigued I knew he'd got me, "Yes Tom yes I do."

"Then my love, why not take that beautiful bra off and let me see your breasts?"

Reaching behind me, I slipped the clasp undone and staring at the screen I watched my breasts slowly being revealed at the same time as which Tom let go of the tie of his robe.

"Oh Jay they're fabulous," he sighed as he leaned forward getting closer to his screen presumably to get a better look at my boobs, "Oh yes, yes, yes," he went on moving back again and standing up. He was holding the robe together as he looked right into my eyes. He pulled the silk tightly across his body.

"Oh God Tom," involuntarily slipped from my mouth as I saw the outline of his erection. He'd told me he was quite large, but the outline under the silk looked enormous and, without thinking, I dropped the bra onto the floor.

"You like Jay?" he asked pulling the material even tighter.

"Yes Tom, yes I do," I sighed as I watched as slowly, he let go of the robe. As if in slow motion the two sides fell apart so that standing proudly between them, surging its way right up the middle of his stomach all the way to his navel was his cock. His hard, thick, veiny cock. His warm throbbing, stunningly erect and obviously extremely ready cock.

His eyes not leaving mine for a moment he shrugged the robe off and stood before me totally naked. He seemed to be incredibly comfortable with his nudity for he did a slow twirl before returning to the stool and climbing up onto it.

"Ok Jayne, do you approve?"

"Oh yes Tom, yes, yes, yes I do," I gushed at last now feeling almost fully relaxed. He'd been both considerate and clever in stripping first, but hey, who cares for I was now so up for this I could hardly wait.

Whether it was my better or baser instinct that took over I don't know. But suddenly I wanted to impress him, thrill him, excite and tease him. I wanted to be naked, to touch myself and see him do the same. Yes, I was ready and I wanted to masturbate for him in front of my cam.

As my hands found my breasts, which seemed so much heavier than normal, I wondered whether it was him or the camera? Whether it was my cyberlover or the lens that I wanted to fuck? I didn't know and quite frankly I couldn't give a damn so strong were the sensations of want flooding through me as I squirmed the orbs of flesh together. He was gazing at me, a slight smile on his face his fingers slowly running up and down the length of his erection as I stood up. I was now full of bravado, totally relaxed and confident.

I stared at Tom, "I want you Tom, I want you now," I moaned as I started to gyrate in front of him my hands on my skirt.

"Yes Jay," he grunted back slowly wrapping his fingers around his length. "I want to have you, I want to fuck you Jay, is that what you want me to do?"

"Yes Tom, yes it is I want to cum, I want you to make me cum," I groaned.

I knew that I was now out of control, I was lost and I was well on way to doing anything and everything in front of Tom and my new cam. Was it for him, for me, for both of us or the camera I wondered as I slowly eased the tight skirt up my thighs?

I was sort of dancing, certainly moving, somewhat like bumping and grinding I suppose. I was acting like and indeed I felt like a stripper as I slid the hem of the skirt up and up and up past mid-thigh, over my stocking tops, across that thin patch of skin between them and my panties and then over my mound until it was bunched around my waist. As I was doing that my movements were causing my bare breasts to jiggle, I was occasionally squeezing and pressing my boobs and pinching my nipples. My head was rolling from side to side dislodging my glasses that I had to keep pushing back into place to see the images on the screen

"Yes Jay, yes, go, go for me," Tom was croaking as I saw that he'd started to masturbate.

When I'm aroused, I adore seeing a man I fancy masturbate. It's something to do with seeing his hard cock pumping in and out of what is in effect a surrogate cunt, a makeshift cunt, a copy of my cunt in my imagination, I suppose. But it's not just that wonderfully erotic sight that does it for me. It's the whole bit. His body, the straining of his muscles, the movement of his hand and, as much if not more than anything else, the look on his face. The deep staring of his usually half-closed eyes, the opened mouth, the dropping of his eyelids and the, almost, trance-like look that comes over him as his body commands his mind to lose control.

The slow rhythmic pumping of Tom's hand, up and down, up and down was so alluring and so enticing to me. It was also marvellously encouraging and it broke down any final inhibitions I may have had.

"Oh God Tom that's fantastic," I moaned truthfully.

"You like seeing me wank do you Jay?"

"Yes Tom, yes I do," I replied, still gyrating on the spot, one hand holding my skirt up showing my panties and the other kneading my aching breasts and nipples.

"Cup it Jay, cup it for me?"

"Cup what Tom?" I asked somewhat bemused, realising what he meant just as he said.

"Your pussy, your mound, cup it for me. Cup your cunt for me pleas Jay."

It felt perfect, the absolutely right thing to do for him and for me. I swayed on the spot my hand cupping my warm mound, my middle finger between my legs stretched right along the slit in my pussy. I thrust my tummy out towards the cam and pressed more firmly bending both that finger and another one so they found and rubbed right on my clit.

It was difficult doing what my mind and body wanted me to do whilst remaining within the focus of the cam. I'm sure Tom missed quite a lot before he advised me to stay still and suggested I sit in the big, black leather chair and line the cam right on that.

"Sit down Jay, take your time and let's cum together," he advised pushing his erection towards me as if inviting me to lick it, something I would have loved to have done.

He'd shuffled forward a bit on the stool so that his legs were bent and both feet were on the floor. The wide angle, as he called it, lens enabled all of his body to be in the picture until he used the zoom thing which he did alternating between close ups of his face and his hand slowly and purposefully now pumping his cock.