Chapter 1
My excursion into a swinging circle.
As the condom covered cock nuzzled against my wet engorged lips so I thought 'It has been such a long time.' As Paul pushed his welcomingly sturdy and stunningly hard prick up me I realised that it been about nine months, around three-quarters of a year or approximately forty weeks since I had been fucked. As he surged deep into me so I realised that my self-imposed celibacy was over. That made me feel good, very good.
We'd met playing golf, helping each other find their balls in the deep rough that separated the eighth and ninth holes. We chatted as we walked in the long grass and then later in the bar. We had a couple of drinks at the golf club and met there again at the Sunday morning mixed get together. We played and had lunch together, he gave me a lift home for I had stayed at a friend's place near to the club the previous evening. We kissed as he dropped me off at my flat in Docklands. We met again a week or so later and then we went out to dinner a couple of times.. Tonight had been a natural culmination I suppose. It was an inevitability I guess. It was the way that relationships develop, particularly between people approaching or in middle age, for his fifty one and my forty three constitute just that, I was beginning to realise with some despair.
As he started moving in and out and up and down, there was no space in my mind for anything other than the enjoyment of sexual stimulation. Fortunately he had made me cum when he'd undressed me so I was able to savour the sensations of his cock filling me and arousing my insides. He was a good lover. He hadn't rushed getting my clothes off and getting me into his bed and he had paid due attention to my full breasts and ultra-sensitive nipples with his hands and mouth. He was as equally relaxed about getting into my knickers. He had patiently stimulated my clit and then after peeling my panties down and taking them off, he had gently at first, but then more energetically as we progressed, finger fucked me to a first climax.
We had rested. And then he had started sucking my breasts, I love that and I stroked his cock. He thrust it against me simulating a shag. We kissed and he ran his hands through my more than shoulder-length, wavy, unruly some say, chestnut coloured hair. He rolled on top of me his erection welcomingly pressed into me from my pubic mound to my waist, he felt so big, but then I hadn't had this experience for so long, everything was happening in extremes. He squeezed and rubbed my breasts, sucked my nipples and then wiggled his way downwards. I parted my thighs and he slid between them.
It didn't last that long. I certainly had no staying power and he was so ready that prolonging it would have been meaningless.
After the first few deep thrusts that sent his cock so far up me I thought it would enter my womb or pop out my mouth, he combined that with almost removing it. All the time he was kissing me, squeezing my breasts and sucking on my lips; I knew they would be sore and a little swollen in the morning. Then he pushed himself as far in me as he could go, held it rigid, grabbed the cheeks of my bum and moaned.
"Are you ready, I am so near?"
"Oh yes Paul" I groaned I am so, so ready."
And then we had a marvellous mutual orgasm that well and truly ended my celibacy.
*
Just what had brought me back to a full sex-life, I'm not sure. Partly of course it was frustration. That dull ache of need that for nearly every moment of the nine months had pervaded every part of my body. There was hardly a minute and certainly not an hour that I didn't think about sex, that I didn't feel the warmth in my breasts and the irritation in the pit of my stomach. I was continuously aroused, my nipples seemed to be almost permanently hard and sometimes I would have to change my panties several times a day!
I looked at nearly all the men and many of the women I met as sexual prospects, wondering what they would look like naked and how they would perform in bed. I had the most lurid dreams often waking up with my hand between my legs or holding my boobs. I had fantasies of being raped, having a gang bang and being tied up and continually fucked. To relieve the frustration I masturbated and boy did I; every day during those nine months and some times two or three times. That helped, but only temporarily.
It also ended because of Paul, I felt he was special. He wasn't pervy or pushy, was good looking with longish greying, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was around six feet and muscularly slim, brought about he told me by working out three or four times a week, running regularly and playing tennis as well as golf.
After the divorce, I had vowed not to present my daughter, who had overall coped well with my marriage split up and divorce, with a series of 'uncles' and that had been another reason for my celibacy decision.
Additionally, being celibate and not dating after a few months, although I had started out with what I felt were good reasons, increasingly seemed rather pointless; I had almost forgotten why I had started.
After my divorce had come through three or so years ago I had a bad spell. I became rather promiscuous, well at least by my standards for in the previous twenty years I had only had two lovers; my husband and a guy with whom I had a passionate six month affair. During my 'mad' period I slept with six men. I got to a point where, I suppose, I was putting it about a bit. After a couple of years of that madness, which I worked hard to keep from my teenage daughter Sara, it suddenly hit me that I was becoming a slut. It also hit me that the sex I had with those men was, overall, unsatisfying and filled me with guilt and remorse. It was like that because it was almost just sex for the sake of sex; there was nothing else, no emotional involvement, no strong affection and certainly no love. I didn't want any of the latter, but had needed the former; I wanted sex, but no emotional involvement or dependence. I had been there with Kevin and the break up after I found that he was a serial adulterer had not only hurt me badly, but it had toughened me up considerably.
So I had a classic Catch 22; I wanted sex, but without becoming emotionally involved, but when I had sex like that I didn't enjoy it. Hence, I stopped dating and became celibate.
That is until Paul and now those reasons for not fucking seem ridiculous.
He found me at just the right time for both of us.
A couple of years earlier he had sold his interior design and office layout planning company for several millions. He and his wife had decided that they would spend a lot of time travelling the world for whilst building his group of companies he had no time for holidays. Tragically, just after the sale she was killed in a car crash so when we met he was just starting to get over it, if that is possible.
At that time having tried celibacy I was coming to the conclusion the suffering was not worth the benefits.
All the time since the divorce my intention had been not to get involved with a man until Sara was more or less off my hands at university. Paul came along just as she was taking her A levels!
And when I met him on the golf course, we found his ball, but not mine and we laughed when I said. "Bloody men, they never seem to lose their balls."
In the bar after the golf he came up to me and presented me with a brand new golf ball.
"Titleist Pro V wasn't it."
Smiling I said. "PTS Solo actually, but a Pro V will do, thanks."
"May I buy you a drink?"
"You think I'm that kind of girl do you" I laughed adding "Anything for a golf ball?"
"Not just a golf ball, a Pro V 1"
"Ah well in that case a glass of dry white wine please."
He leaned across and putting his hand on my shoulder he kissed me on the cheek. We were parked near to my Docklands apartment after he brought me home from the golf club.
We went to dinner later that week and this time in roughly the same place he kissed me on the lips, he was a good kisser.
