Dinner For One 1

Diana was used to dinner for one. Her days of romance and spontaneity seemed to have ended some twenty years ago when she wed Carl her, at one time, soul mate and the father to their three children. The routine just fell into a comfortable existence. When the kids were young, Carl coached little league, and Diana was a Girl Scout troop mother. The ideal family really. Occasionally, the young couple would dump the kids off at her parents house and slip off for a romantic weekend, but for the most part Diana and Carl had sex once a week and always in the missionary position. Just part of the routine.

As the kids grew, so did Carl's job responsibilities. Diana often had to play chauffeur, chef, and warden to their children while Carl was away on business. Her husband was a good provider, the kids went to a private school, they lived in an upscale neighborhood, and the garage housed the latest edition that Mercedes offered. Their sex life suffered, but at the time it seemed like a fair trade for luxury and a nice bank account. So it was sex when they found the time and as always, in the missionary position. Just part the routine.

About fifteen years into their marriage Carl became distant. Diana assumed he was having an affair, in fact she really knew it, but had no proof. Call it a wife's intuition. Diana knew of Beverly, she worked under Carl in more ways than one, Diana presumed. During company office parties Diana would take note of Carl and Beverly's mannerisms. Carl would walk by Beverly and lightly brush his hand on her side. Beverly would whisper something in Carl's ear, or they would just laugh together at some stupid joke Carl told. In fact, Beverly was known as Carl's work wife, a title everyone in the office just loved to tell Diana. Diana came to hate those parties; she felt that everyone was in on the affair but her. It didn't help that Diana had put on a few pounds since her younger days, and Beverly was a stunning blond in her late twenties. Diana confronted Carl many times about Beverly, but he denied it, even after she found a black thong in Carl's glove box. He blew it off as a joke one of his friends pulled on him. But she knew.

Sex between them basically stopped. Carl hadn't been down on her in years, and they only had intercourse maybe once every two months or so. Without an interested partner, Diana discovered the art of masturbation. What once was taboo and perverted in her mind, became a satisfying way release repressive instincts; besides that, she found that she could give herself a better orgasm than a half-interested, half-limp cock that Carl could muster up from time to time. This ritual became just part of her routine.

A few weeks ago her youngest child left home for college. Diana has a true empty nest. When Carl isn't on a convenient business trip with Beverly, he's at the office, or out to dinner with a client.

That was a brief history to the sex life of Dina and Carl.

Diana was mopping the floor when the doorbell rang. Her cleaning clothes hung loosely on a body that had found gravity unflattering. She was still attractive enough, but a few small rolls had gathered on her sides over the years. Her big breast sagged in a somewhat graceful way, and her rear-end that once caught Carl's eye, now just blends into her backside without much pop.

Diana opens the door, and sees a man in a uniform. "Are you Diana Matthews?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"Sign here please," he said.

Looking at the envelope Diana asked, "What is it?" as she signed.

"You've been served," the man said while walking away.

Diana seemed stunned. Served? She thought. She opened the letter and began to read. Suddenly, she let out, "That son-of-a-bitch! That fucking son-of-a-bitch!"

Diana did not use curse words that often, those just came out. Carl as ball-less as he was, had just served divorce papers on her while he was out of town. "That bastard! That God damn bastard!" She continued to spew.

It all made since through the eyes of Carl. He'd been fucking Beverly for years. Now, he can put the final fuck to Diana as his last child left home. Oh, sure he'll pony-up college tuition, but he'd done that anyway. This way, though, he's off the hook for any child support. The weasel kept a committed Diana trapped in a sexless, lifeless marriage for years because the asshole didn't want to pay for the development of his sperm deposit before it turned eighteen.

Diana had never been a sulkier, and if she was honest with herself, she knew this was coming. She did have a little scorn in her though. He may not have children to pay for, but the rat would pay. Diana went to the phonebook and found the most expensive blood-sucking lawyer in town. Carl was about to get screwed the hard way, dry and right up the ass, courtesy of Goldman, Cohan, and Schwab.

Over the next few weeks Diana fell into a new routine. She would consult with her attorneys, email her kids, and spend time working on a few community projects. And of course, pleasuring herself. Her masturbation became a ritual. After dinner she would pour a glass of red wine and let her mind wonder to arousal. She often thought of a certain stock boy down at the grocery store. He wasn't really a boy; he was probably in his early twenties and working his way through college. Of course, her son was about the same age, but that didn't get in the way of this fantasy, not when you're horny and headed for the other side of forty.

Diana would sit on the sofa and sip her wine. Then she would slowly rest her head back and open up her robe. Her hand would drift down between her thighs as see pictured the stock boy. She always seemed to push her cart down his aisle at just the right moment. He would be bent over stocking the shelf and his firm tight ass hung in midair. One time she stopped right behind him while pretending to read her grocery list. She would look past the small paper in front of her eyes and gaze at his backside. She imagined pulling down his tight pants and running her hands down his ass. She fantasized about bending his bare ass over and licking his balls from the backside. There were other times where she would wait until he turned around so she could see the bulge in his pants. That bulge made her heart race. She could see the outline of a huge cock as it pressed against his pants. Shopping was more than a pleasure. It was a downright porno in the middle of the can goods aisle.

Diana thought of these things as her mature pussy started to wake. Her finger became wet as she traced the opening to her moist vagina. She could hear the sound of her silk slit squishing as she entered herself with two fingers. She let out a soft moan. Her legs opened wider. She brought her other hand down and started rubbing her clit. The soft bulbous tissue hardened with each stroke of her index finger. She put in a third finger and then went deep into her pussy, moving them in and out. Her other hand moved rapidly across her clit. In her mind she had the stock boy's dick in her and giving her a long and hard fuck. Her walls thickened, her toes curled. She even cried out, "Fuck me, fuck me," to the imaginary cock between her thighs. Her eyes were closed, the vision so real, that she could feel his hot cum shoot inside her. "Yes, give it to me. Give it to me!" she said louder. She pumped her hips back and forth. Her opening tightened around her fingers as she pressed her palm firmly down on her mound. The grinding motion and her hand kept the same rhythm with her hips. She felt a little spasm and then the first wave of pleasure hit her. She moaned softly. Her imaginary dick kept thrusting inside of her. More spasms engulfed her slick vulvae. More pleasure. She moved her hand rapidly; she could feel the wetness on her pussy hair as she gave herself one last climax. Her hips slowly came to a stop, her breathing returned to normal, and she rolled over to turn out the light. Diana was asleep within ten minutes. Just part of the routine.

Days turned into weeks, weeks rolled into months. Her divorce was final, and Carl did get screwed. Diana kept the upscale house, the new car, and a nice fuck-you alimony check each month to keep her in the lifestyle she was accustom to. Carl, if you give a crap about him, came home early one day and caught Beverly with the pool boy's dick in her mouth and the lawn guy's cock up her ass. They were giving the misses a full service maintenance plan. Carl opened the door just in time to see the two guys pullout and drop a double loaded reward on the back of his trophy wife. Karma is a bitch, and apparently, so is Beverly.

Diana wanted to date, but the circles she ran in made it difficult. Most of her friends were married or, like Carl, traded their wife in for a newer model. The men that were available seemed to fall into two categories: Fat and bald, or bald and fat. Diana wasn't picky, but she wasn't desperate either, yet. She did notice that she was becoming hornier at this stage in her life. And she had her pick of imaginary dicks to comfort her for now. There was the president of her home owner association. She would go to meetings and accidently find herself staring at his bulge. She also liked the UPS man's package. She spent a lot of Carl's money on crap from EBay just to have the UPS man ring her bell. One time during a delivery the man caught her eyeballing his crotch. Her face turned a shade of red that no beet had ever seen before she closed the door full of embarrassment.

What am I, a sixteen year-old girl?

She thought as she threw the package down.

Solitude was never a problem for Diana. Carl gave her years of practice living in an empty house, and dinning alone seemed natural to her. She was having the best sex in her life. Her solo act was all she needed, or so she thought. She had her wine, and trashy novels. Sometimes she would watch a little porn to get her off. She didn't view anything raunchy, but there were times when she felt a little naughty and search the Internet looking for videos that had shots of men's cocks ejaculating. She loved to watch cum come out of a man; maybe a little kinky, but whatever it takes when you're having an orgasm for one.

Dinning out alone was also nothing new for Diana. Saturday was her night out. She usually went to Applebee's or some sort of middle-of-the-road joint. Nothing fancy, just a way to be a part of society. However, on this particular Saturday night Diana decided to mix thing up a bit and go to some off-the-beaten- path bar and grill. She had heard of this place through a friend. The review was, cheap drinks, not crowded, and fair service. That wasn't a five star endorsement, but cheap drinks sounded good. It had been a while since Diana tied one on, and she thought, why not? Why not just drink herself silly to break away from the norm. In fact, why not wear the sexiest clothes that hung in a late forties divorcee closet? In fact, why not put on that skimpy black bra and panty set that Carl gave her a few years back? She never wore them, so tonight, why not?

While Diana was taking a shower she got the shock of her life. She looked down between her legs and could not believe her eyes. Among the tuft of small black pubic hairs she saw a few coarse gray strands protruding out. It was like an announcement stating, "Vagina closed, no need to enter here!" She was crestfallen. Her age had caught up with her womanhood. Coloring the hair on her head was one thing, but having gray private parts made her suddenly seem like an old maid. Diana stood in the shower. As the water ran down her body she looked at her sagging breast, the roll around her tummy, and the gray hair between her legs. Only one man had ever seen her naked and he traded her in for a thin, perky breasted, black pubic haired woman.

Maybe I should just go to Applebee's. No one wants to see an old woman in a skimpy dress,

she thought. The debate in her mind lasted until she saw her razor. "Screw it, I'm going out! There's one way to get the gray out," she said to herself. She'd seen a few shaved vaginas in some pornos before and with that, Diana cleaned shaved those gray and black hairs right out of her life. The sight of her hairless groin turned her on a little bit. It made her feel sexy.

Diana put on her makeup, a little heavier than normal, fixed her brunette hair a little sexier than normal, and then stepped into her silk black panties, a little tighter than normal. Her tiny bra barley held in her massive chest. Her tits squeezed together tight and upright. She found an old cocktail dress in the back of her closet. She could not remember the last time she wore it. But she did remember that she looked good in it. However, after putting the dress on she also remembered putting weight on. The teal dress hung about thigh high and fit snuggly around her torso. Maybe too snug for someone of her carriage. And it was certainly too snug to wear at the annual home owners association charity ball. But this wasn't a ball, and Diana didn't want the norm. All fixed up, she took another look in the mirror. Her cleavage was eye popping. The dress, sure it was tight and inappropriate, but in a sleazy I'm-not-acting-my-age way. It was the look Diana was going for, she wanted to dress naughty, and she nailed it.

Diana was being naughty, but not stupid. She called a cab just incase she got too tipsy to drive. As she waited for the cab she kept thinking what had gotten into her.

Is this a female version of middle-age crises?

The thought of hooking up with a stranger did cross her mind. Could she have sex without love? Was it possible to view sex as a sport? She thought of that saying,

use it or lose it,

and wondered if sometimes genitals needed a good workout just like the other muscles in her body. She also thought that how nice it would be to put in thirty minutes on a treadmill and then have a massive orgasm at the end as a reward.

The whole country would be in excellent shape,

she thought and then giggled.

The cab finally arrived. Diana stepped outside and made her way to the car. It had been a while since she wore high heels, which made the stroll slightly uncomfortable. The cabbie's eyes grew bigger as she walked closer. Her big breast bounced up and down with each strike of her spiked heels. She noticed the driver staring at her big tits. Normally, that type of behavior from a man would make her feel uneasy. However, tonight she looked easy,

nice

and

sleazy

easy. Whatever repressions she had left—suddenly—disappeared in the pounds of cleavage exploding above her dress.

Something naughty was definitely possessing her. When she arrived at the cab she leaned forward in front of the driver's side window. "Forty-five twenty-one Harbor Way," she said. Her snug rack rested briefly on the open window, and then she popped into the back seat. The cab driver was a tanned man in his mid fifties. The hack's license that hung from his dashboard said his name was Nicholas Damianos. He spoke with a thick Greek accent.

Nicholas started the car, "This address is a restaurant, yes?" he asked.

"Yes," Diana replied.

Not much was spoken during the ride. But the cabbies' eyes did talk a lot. Diana could see that he was watching her cleavage from the rear view mirror. It made her feel good to be viewed that way for a change. She had spent years being the conservative wife, and a doting mother. She loved those roles, but tonight she wanted validation for being a woman. If she could turn one head tonight then that would be good enough. It was a simple plan, really. Turn some heads, get a little tipsy, and then go home for a few rounds of self-pleasure.

The cab pulled into the parking lot. "Nine-fifty," the cabbie said. Diana reached to the other side of the seat to grab her purse. In doing so, her dress slid up past her thigh exposing her black panties to the cab driver. Diana could feel herself exposed, and it excited her. She let the driver take a good look while she slowly went through her purse. Diana finally came up with fifteen bucks and handed it to the man. "My name is Nick. You call me for ride home, yes?"

"Yes, Nick, I'll call," she said.

Nick took the money. "You make sure now. Tell them Nick. Tell them you want Nick in cab number 054 to pick you up, yes?" he said.

"I got it, Nick. I'll request you," she smiled and then got out of the cab.

Nick stuck his head out the window. "I can be here in ten minutes after you call—no wait, huh? Tell them Nick."

Diana had not walked into the restaurant yet and she'd already turned a head.

It took a little time for her eyes to focus when she entered the dim lit bar. The place didn't seem to be popping as she glanced around the room. Most of the tables were empty, a few costumers were seated at the bar, and no one on staff was in sight. She waited briefly before a waitress brushed by. "Just garb a seat anywhere, honey. Someone will be with you shortly," she said.

Diana surveyed the room again. A row of booths were off to the right, the bar was to the left, and a few dining tables were scattered about in the center of the room. Diana found a seat at a small table towards to back, which gave her the view of the entire room. "Will anyone be joining you?" a waitress asked as she gave her a menu.

"Nope, just me," Diana said. "I'll have a Manhattan." Diana hardly drank the hard stuff, but tonight a Manhattan seemed right.

Time passed slowly, between waiting for her main course and a downing a few more drinks, Diana became interested in watching a couple from across the room. They were tucked in a secluded booth where Diana was the only one who could see them. The woman was a dark haired beauty in a tight miniskirt. She was probably in her mid thirties; body tanned, teeth white, and fit like a gym rat. Her male friend looked as fit and fashionable as she did. His hair was sandy blond and his handsome face donned a five o'clock shadow. His attire fit loose, but Diana could tell that there were tight muscles hiding under his casual shirt. Diana would sneak a peek at them from time to time. They seemed to really be enjoying each others company. The woman would kiss the man's neck, and then the man would return the favor. That public display of affection made Diana tingle. If they did this in public, then Diana wondered what must go on behind closed doors.

Diana's meal came and went. The food was so-so, and the drinks were cheap. If anything, the best part was the masturbation material she was gathering for later that night. She could imagine the sandy haired man going down on her, and then banging her brains out. She would fantasize about having his cock in her mouth, stroking, sucking. Most of all, she wanted to think about his hot cum dripping on her. Sure it was a naughty thought, but she had never seen a man ejaculate. Carl always came inside of her. Now, in her moments of mischievous thoughts, just once she'd like to witness a man jerk-off on her tits. Call it her bucket list. All those thoughts made Diana ready to settled the bill and call Nick for a ride home. She was so horny; she might have to rub one out in the back of the cab.

A little voyeurism for Nick could be exciting,

she thought, and then laughed to herself.

Before she could flag her waitress down another waitress appeared and sat down a drink. "It's from the couple over there," the waitress pointed over to the sexy couple.

Diana was frightened, she'd been busted and now they are making fun of her. Give the old lady a drink. The freak show who gawks at attractive couples. Take your drink and bug off! Diana didn't think she was obvious with her glances, but obviously she was. Now what to do? Throw a fifty on the table and run? She couldn't look at them, but she could feel their stare. Her palms were moist, she felt flush in the face. If she had any dignity left, she had to acknowledge the drink, down the sucker, and then stride out of the bar with her head held high. Of course, after four Manhattans (the new one, make it five) her stride may look more like a wobble.