Forbidden Fruit Ch 1

What was I thinking? I am in my forties. In my second marriage, and well, according to the stories I read on this site, very uninformed and somewhat prudish. I know that most of these stories are made up, but some seem to be very true. I don't read the incest, or BDSM. Well Ok, I'll be honest; I may have read one or two.

I did realize is that my sex life is missing "excitement". I have never crossed the line of "regular" sex. Oh, I've got some sexy bras and panties, but I have never shown my stuff to strangers. I have never been felt up in a bar, made love in public, and didn't ever consider having a threesome.

I'd lay in bed at night, letting my mind wander, and try to imagine what really happens in those stories, or better yet, did they really happen? I finally came to realize that it didn't really mater. I knew that some of them really made me horny. Wait, let me rephrase that with the language of these stories, they made my pussy wet! I'd read late at night, then go wake up my husband and have some sex. I was afraid to let him know that while he was humping away on me, I was fantasizing about whatever story made me get excited.

I was experiencing a wake up call for my sex life. It was glowingly apparent that while I have no complaints about my life, I knew there was definitely room for improvement. I kept thinking of the word "Forbidden Fruit". It made me dig deeper into my past. What is "Forbidden Fruit" for me? Okay, so my first answer was "absolutely everything." The second answer was the fact that I enjoyed the stories about women "accidentally" showing off their bodies. It seemed so very harmless. And I do have a body that should be at least somewhat desirable. I have a runner's body plus twenty pounds. Yet, I was a woman who hardly ever showed off anything, to anyone.

Another roadblock for me would be confessing this to my hubby. I didn't know what he would think about this. Would he have me locked up, leave me? Would he tell our friends that I have turned into some kind of sex-crazed exhibitionist? Or, would it make him hot too? The possibilities made my head swim.

I finally came to a conclusion that I am compelled to do something, anything, to try to please this burning desire. I came up with a plan, smiled, closed my eyes and finally drifted off into lusty dreams.

First, I battled with the usual "woman" stuff. Am I desirable? Am I too fat? Are my boobs, oops, lets be more daring, tits, are my tits good enough? They are only a full B cup. Of course, all the women in the stories have C's D's, DD's, and DDDDDDDDDD's. I guess I'll just have to find out for myself! I surprised myself a bit with my dashing new confidence.

I decided to go shopping. While probably nobody would notice, I had put hours of thought into what I would wear. It took me several changes before I was ready to go. Showered, powdered, and more work on my hair since the last wedding I went to. The big difference was that I had on a loose fitting scoop neck t-shirt without a bra. I tested it in front of the mirror. When I bent over, my tits would show!

I went to a quieter strip mall about 20 miles from my house. I didn't want to run into anyone that I knew. My first store was a shoe store. After being confronted with "Can I help you" at each isle that I went to, I finally was asked by a very handsome young man if I saw anything I liked. I smiled inside and thought, "That was going to be my question." I waited for the right moment and bent over to show him something on the bottom shelf. I knew that I was "wide open". I could feel the air-conditioned air around my tits. I glanced up; he was looking at the damn shoes, not me. Oh! My confidence was shot down. I am NOT desirable!

He told me "That shoe isn't your style."

Who the fuck did he think he was? Not my style! Why wasn't he starring at me? My BOLD new attitude and my bold NAKED tits! Then it dawned on me. This young man was right! It was an ugly shoe. And I realized another thing, this young man was about as gay as you could get! Just my luck! I try to be brave, and I pick the only guy in the store that couldn't be less interested!

I did score a good deal on some very nice shoes. Lance was wonderful. He was so right about my shoes. On the way home I remembered that I needed to pick up my developed pictures from the camera store. I entered the store and went directly to the pick up counter. A very good looking man, probably close to my age, was eager to help me out. He insisted that I stay there and check all my pictures out before I left. I usually just paid and left, but took his advice and slowly went through them. They were all pictures from our last camping trip. Good photos.

I started to feel that he was unusually interested in my photos. Then it dawned on me. While I was looking at the photos, I think he was checking me out. At first, I was a bit mad about this, and then I remembered my quest. Hey, this was cool! For the first time in a long time, I felt desirable. I was feeling quite flattered that this man wanted me to stay right where I was, so he could check me out. I knew that my nipples were hard. I had a hard time figuring out how much of my tits were showing.

I did bend over a bit more, as if I were inspecting the detail of the pictures. I knew that they must be completely showing. I loved this feeling. There was no "naughty," no "hussy," just the wonderful feeling of being appreciated.

I didn't want to leave. I had already gone thru the pile twice. He moved around a few times, also bending over to pretend to look at the prints, I knew he was trying to get a better look down my shirt. I not only let him, damn it, I made it very easy for him.

"Is there anything else" he interrupted my fantasy.

"Um," Think,damn it. " Yes. Um, do you sell the digital cameras here?"

"Yes we do. They are at the next counter." I followed him to the next counter. I also glanced around the store. We were totally alone. He went thru the accolades of too many different cameras. I wasn't really listening. He did demonstrate a nice camera and took several pictures of me. I was amazed how clear and fast they were. My first thought was that "I hated my smile." My second thought was, look at my hard nipples. I never paid much attention to them. I liked it. And my hair is still perfect!

"This must cut down on your business. I mean, there is no need to develop them".

"It does in some ways," He answered. He looked around like he was going to disclose some national secrets, "It cuts down on the "R-rated photos that people take."

"R-rated" I mouthed.

He now looked uncomfortable, like he took a chance to be secretive, and I like a dummy, shut him down.

"Oh you mean Boudoir Photography," I just remembered that phrase from a Cosmo magazine.

"Ya, that's what they call it."

"Really, do people really do that? I thought it was just Cosmo crap."

"You'd be surprised." He bragged.

I thought for a moment. I took in all the sensuality going on here. I'm going out of my way to show this man my tits. He obviously likes it. I like it. I decided to play more. I NEEDED to play more. "I bet you get to see it all," I said in playful tone.

Again he craned his neck, looking around. "It's a real perk."

"Can I ask a question? Kind of a personal question?"

"Sure, ask away."

"Do you have any of those photos? I'd really like to see some."

"I don't know," he stammered. "I could really get in trouble. I shouldn't have even have mentioned it."

I felt bad. I wanted to see them. I felt an odd bond with John, the camera man. After all, I've just been an exhibitionist for this stranger. I decided to give it one more try. "Look" I confessed, "I'm thinking about trying this for my husband. I need something to go by."

"You're not a cop, are you?"

"No, heavens no."

"Are you from the corporate office?"

I don't know why I did this, but I emptied my purse on the counter. "Look, see I'm just Donna. I'm just a mid forties woman, who is tired of a boring sex life. I'm trying to be more open. I'm trying to be sexy." I almost started crying. I felt like I was pleading.

He was nodding his head. "OK, Donna. I'm with you. Really!"

I was ready to do more pleading. I was ready to rip my shirt off, and well, I don't know what else, but I felt that I came this far; I wasn't about to be shut down.

Again the slow look around, " Can you wait? I close the store in five minutes." "Sure."

I feigned interest in the digital cameras and telescopes. Four people came in to pick up pictures. He didn't tell them to look at the pictures before they left. I felt special. I did look at each of the people and wondered if any of them had nude photos. I was enjoying my new exhibitionist side. I've never wondered about people's private lives, but now I was keenly intrigued.

I watched as John pulled the shades and turned off the outside lights. He went into his office and pulled out a photo album. "You must never tell anyone. Or my ass will be fired."

I put my hand on his. "You can trust me". I bent over to look at the pictures, I propped my elbows on the counter. Again, I felt his eyes peering down my shirt. I felt my nipples harden, and I even felt a tiny wetness in my panties. I was getting turned on.

As I turned the pages, I saw many women. They were nude, some wear wearing lingerie, bras and panties. At first I wanted to be judgmental and joke about some of the bodies and poses. Then I realized that I was privy to see people in true intimate moments. Each woman looked as though they thought that they were Marilyn Monroe. They were probably doing this for the men they loved. I even thought that I might recognize some of them. I asked, "Do you think they know that you have these?"

"Actually", he pondered, "believe it or not, I think some people like knowing that I have them."

I can relate, was what I wanted to say, "Hmmmm," was what came out.

"So," he asked weakly, "Do you see yourself doing this?"

I needed to be cunning. I needed to be interesting. "I guess if I do, you'll be the second person to know!"

He smiled. We both won. He got to see my tits. He got to get me excited. I got to push the envelope. I was daring, and brave and sexy. I loved it.

I excused myself, took my photos and thanked him with a kiss. I got in my car, turned up the radio, and drove home like a teenager. I wanted to run into the house and tell Bill what I had accomplished tonight. Then I remembered that he probably wasn't on the same page that I was on. He may not understand what I did, and why I did it. The second part of my plan was to somehow get him to read Literotica, and hope that he opens up about his fantasies. I want him to be more open, more daring, more sexual. Like me!

I bounced into the house. Bill was home and working on the computer. I smiled and said "Hi honey."

He did a bit of a double take when he saw me braless. My nipples were still hard from my adventures.

He had a bit of different look. "You left the computer on."

"Sorry," I said as I started to leave the room.

"You left it in on a site called Literotica!"

Busted. I must have shot him the same look that my son Donald gave me when I confronted him about some Playboy magazines I found under his bed. Then I realized, hey, I'm an adult, I can look at that stuff. I stepped up to the plate. "Ya, isn't it cool?"

"I've been reading this stuff for hours!"

Home run. "Do you like it?"

He turned around and stood up. He was sporting a definite bulge in his pants and it was looking my way. I lifted my shirt like the college girls do on spring break. "I think it's bed time!"

Bill chased me up the stairs and caught me about half way up. My God, this man was pulling my pants down. It was exciting! In less than a minute he had my panties down and was climbing on. I was wild with wetness.

I wanted him to fuck me right there. I was loud. I moaned. I talked like a slutty woman. I told him to fuck me hard. I hardly ever use these words. But I was charged with ecstasy. I told him to shove his big hard cock into my pussy. He grabbed my tits from behind as he pumped away. I came and I came. I felt his sweat dripping on my back. I felt each muscle tingle as he fucked me dog style on our steps. I remembered how only a few hours earlier I was showing off my tits. As a matter of fact, I wanted John the camera guy to see me now. I could even visualize him taking pictures, or maybe even touching my tits.

My mind was racing. Memories of some of the stories I have read, visuals of some of the women I saw posing for their men, and the raw feeling of being pounced on by Bill. I had HUGE orgasms. Many. I cried when he finally came into me. His hips locked tightly onto the checks of my round, warm ass. His cock was all the way in, pulsating.

He started to apologize when he heard me cry. I stopped him and told him it was good tears. I collapsed on the steps. Bill laid down next to me. "Whew," was all he could say.

"Whew indeed," I answered. I knew what got my motor running; I wondered what Bill had read that made him this way. Which were the stories that got him going? Was he was fantasizing about some story while fucking me? What is Bill's Forbidden Fruit? How will I ever be able to tell him about mine, and how will I find out about his?

To be continued...