Dear Diary:
I am writing this ... well because I need a way to organize my thoughts, and my emotions and, well to sort myself out.
I don't think anyone will read this, but in case you do...
I'm middle aged (choose for yourself how I look -- but I'll tell you now I'm fairly happy with my body image even though I am not the perfect sex goddess), 2.4 children (two daughters and a dog) and married.
To date I've been satisfied with my life. I married Brian quite happily, if at a young age. We've lived together for 20 years - also happily, well for the most part. Like any relationship we have our ups and downs. Jenna and Sharon are wonderful daughters. I have a job, a family, hobbies. I have a life that many people would envy. Nothing extravagant, we don't have a mansion, but we have a nice house in a small town with some land. We have a pool and a hot tub, and we go on vacations to the Caribbean and are planning on a trip to the Med or Greece. Jenna is going to university and Sharon will be in a couple of years.
What more could I want?
I don't know. I've been growing more and more dissatisfied with my life. I guess a man would just feel trapped and break from routine by forcing change, at least on the surface. He'd go out and buy a small red sports car and find a young blond to try and recapture his youth.
I feel ... well less. I'm less needed. Jenna certainly doesn't need me now and Sharon is living her own life if under our roof.
Less desired. Sex with Brian has become routine, the same ... dull. God don't let him read this.
Less interested in life. I still read and run and golf and cook and I do all the hobbies I enjoy, but I get less satisfaction out of it. I used to be able to read for hours. A good book I'd finish in a couple of days. Now I put the book down after an hour.
I'm horny, Dear Diary. Really horny all the damn time. I don't remember being this horny ever. Nor this ... interested, that's the best word, interested in sex. Porn never held any fascination for me but now, after the house is empty for the day, I will spend hours on line; reading porn, watching porn. I masturbate daily, multiple times daily. Brian doesn't know, he wouldn't understand that I have a treasure chest full of toys.
It isn't that the vibrators replace him, rather that they ... they ... supplement him. With Brian it's like I have permission to have sex, that it is normal, even expected that I let him fuck me. But with my toys that seems slightly taboo. Slightly naughty and that is EXCITING.
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I was naughty again this morning Dear Diary. Brian had left for work and Sharon was gone, so I went back to bed and lay on my back. It feels so good to just touch myself. I get wet so easily. This morning I was watching porn and this girl was getting fucked in her ass. I couldn't help but wonder how that would feel. So ...
This is actually hard to admit in writing ... even if it's just in my diary.
I took a slim vibrator and lubed it up and put it in my ass. Oh fuck Dear Diary, why does that feel so good? My ass is not for that, not for pleasure. It was wrong, obviously, but being wrong it was exciting. I came I actually squirted, really hard, I had to change the sheets I made such a mess. I've never squirted before.
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I ... met someone.
I never thought I'd ever cheat on Brian. But ...
I went golfing today.
Okay so Heidi, Tamara, Lisa, and I normally go to the golf club in our little town. It's old, there's no real clubhouse, and the greens are not great, but it's cheap and local. But for a change we decided to try this new place. It's about twenty minutes away in the neighbouring town. New meant that it didn't have a lot of trees, it did have long open fairways and a new clubhouse with a bar, which our local golf club didn't. I got there early.
I had to, frankly. I needed to get out of the house, or I would soon be watching more porn. And as much as I enjoy masturbating like that, I don't want it to become an addiction. I'd heard people can get addicted to it.
So I'd been there maybe fifteen minutes, still an hour and a half before the round of golf. I was on my phone, and I will admit I was reading porn. Yes, I know what I said a moment ago, but I was weak. And you know something, it was kinda hot getting all turned on in a public place like that.
So I was sitting in the clubhouse drinking wine, alone and this guy comes and sits down at my table. There were plenty of other empty tables, but he sits at mine without so much as a 'May I join you?' and says "I'm David."
Nothing more; no pleasantries, no pickup lines not even, "Do you come here often?" or "Haven't seen you here before." just, "I'm David."
What do you do when someone does that? I could have glared at him and ignored him or been rude in reply to a dumb pickup line. But how do you respond to "I'm David"? So I said "I'm Anna".
And we started chatting. He is thirteen years older than me, has a handicap of 15 and is married. They have one son who has long since moved out.
That surprises you doesn't it? That he is married I mean. Well he is married. So what? So am I.
He sat next to me and touched me. Just his hand on mine. I didn't flinch away. His left hand, the one across from me, the one with his wedding ring, drew little circles on my hand. Then gently slid up my wrist caressing it. I was happy, we were talking. Under the table his right hand landed on my knee...
Have you ever really looked at golfing skirts? They are actually pretty damn short. Some of them have shorts underneath. Some of them, like the ones I was wearing, don't and sitting at the table it had ridden somewhat higher than mid thigh.
As his hand slid up my leg I thought 'I'm glad these aren't lined.' The thought shook me. I
was
glad, I was enjoying the caresses, I smiled at him. I guess he took it as encouragement because his fingers slipped up under the hem of my skirt.
I think three things aligned at that moment. One I was horny. I always seem to be these days and it didn't help that, when he came to the table, I'd been in the middle of a story of a woman deep in the throes of pleasure at the hands of a very dominant personality. Two David was paying attention to me. Not just to be polite. He was genuinely interested in me, smiling, and reacting to things I was saying. Three he was confident. He was confident in his approach, confident in his talk and confident in his touches. In retrospect he was probably good at manipulation, looking into my eyes, responding to what I was saying, tricks of the trade to ingratiate yourself with someone.
But it worked. To be honest I felt a bit of a jellyfish in his company, weak willed and controlled.
I admit here, now freely ... I liked it. I was melting a little inside and a velvety fist was clenching quite firmly somewhere around my abdomen. A mixture of anxiety and arousal and, I'm afraid to admit, lust had me on a boil. Just being noticed though, being wanted, and treated as a person was enough. When he leaned closer to me, his fingers gently tickling my labia through the thin cotton of my panties and suggested we find somewhere more private.
Well, what would you have done?
His house was on the golf course, near the fourteenth green. It was new, and small. I found it almost sterile in its styling. But it was clean.
He kissed me in the front hall with passion; tongues probed and licking.
He's hand was firmly under my skirt and inside my panties. He called me a slut. I should have slapped him and walked away. Instead, I melted against him, my knees week. I liked it, the thought of being easy and of being bad.
He pushed me into the bedroom, forced my legs apart, pushing the crotch of my panties to one side and licked me.
I screamed, I moaned. He yanked my panties off pushed my skirt higher and dove right between my legs. I was a slut for him, I begged him to eat me, to lick my pussy, to eat my cunt to make me cum.
I squirted, and he ate me. He continued to eat me right through the fountain. I was cuming and couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop.
I was in a daze when he climbed off me. He pulled me around so I was on my back with my head hanging off the side of the bed and pushed his cock into my mouth. I moaned staring up at his balls as he fucked my throat. I've never been dominated like that. It felt so demeaning, so perverted. I was helpless. It could have been called rape except I was loving every second.
He manscaped. I don't know if you've ever been with a guy who shaves, but it's better! There is no smell, the hair doesn't tickle your nose or get caught in the back of your throat. You have a fantastic view of his scrotum. I don't know if you've ever examined a scrotum. Most of the time I don't think of them as attractive, but with a throbbing cunt and a cock deep in your throat it was the hottest view I could have at that moment.
