She had me in a passionate embrace before I realised what was happening. I felt so turned on, excited, nervous, even frightened, and of course, wet!
I was married at 20, a vanilla monogamy of over 30 years. He was the only guy I had ever been intimate with. My only other sexual contact had been a one off with my female best friend just before my 19th birthday, but that story is for another day.
Married to a devout Catholic meant little more than a quicky, once a week on Saturday night, three times a month. Nothing but flat on my back with legs open while he relieved his cock inside me, but only when it was safe, and clean! There was no other birth control in a good catholic marriage.
Although not a Catholic myself, my parents were religious and sent me to a school where I was 'convinced' of the sin of touching myself for pleasure. Nothing changed until.......
As I reached 'the change', my body started to rebel against all those years of sexual numbness. I began to find urges that had always been controlled, now dominated my thoughts. I frequently found a tingle in that place no good girl should feel. My panties often developed a damp patch when that tingle occurred.
Ironically, and so frustratingly, my husband's 5 inch 'joy-giver' was finding problems holding its stiffness and our once a week gradually became more like once a month, then, after a few months, dried up completely. He had lost all interest in sex, just as my needs were aflame, as my hormones swapped my fertility for lust.
Our three children were grown and leaving home during this period so my available time grew along with intensifying desires.
I should make it clear, I still love my husband deeply, our life together is good and satisfying in all aspects, apart from my sexual satisfaction.
My mind was increasingly taken up with my sexual desires. It was causing frustrations and arguments as I couldn't clear my mind, or tell him why I was so tetchy.
I had no desire to leave him but I needed sex.
Having now overcome my guilt in touching myself, masturbation had become a daily, even several times a day activity. I had bought my first vibrator and was getting through batteries at an alarming rate.
On the Monday morning in question, I had gone shopping soon after hubby had left for work. A small nearby town with one pedestrianised shopping street. (In the UK, town centre roads are often closed to traffic, paved over and hence 'pedestrianised'). Whilst shopping for lingerie to feel good in, I found the urge to play between my legs so found the shop toilets and settled into a cubicle for a little relief.
Biting my lip to stop me vocalising my feelings as my fingers ploughed between my wet and swollen labia.
Now relieved, I sucked my fingers clean, before straightening my clothes. My knickers were rather sticky so I slipped them into my bag, washed my hands and finished the shopping a little more focused on the task in hand. The cool air flowing up my legs from my knee length leather skirt felt so awakening.
Do you ever feel more drawn to look at a guy's crotch than his face? I found myself looking for those tell-tale bulges rather than a smiling face as I walked, very aware of my nakedness under my skirt.
Walking out of town towards my car, the lady a few steps ahead of me dropped one of her bags, it looked like a strap snapped. Her shopping spilled out. It's something I always fear happening to me when I am heavily laden, so I went to her and helped her pick things up. I had several bags with not much in so rearranged my shopping and freed up a shopping bag for her.
She was very grateful, and it made me feel good. She was about my age, blonde shoulder length hair pulled into a high ponytail. She had strong features, high cheek bones, a cute nose and sparkling blue eyes.
We introduced ourselves and Wendy asked if I fancied a coffee with her, as a way of thanking me. With nothing to rush home for, except my vibrator of course, I accepted. I looked around for the closest coffee shop but Wendy suggested her flat which was only a half a mile away.
