Copyright © November 2018 by CiaoSteve
CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work.
This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
Author's Notes
Foreword #1: All sexually active characters in this story are over 18.
Foreword #2: This is a story and intended purely for pleasure.
Foreword #3: This is a third chapter in the Voyage of Self Discovery series. Although there is a little recap at the start of the story, you may want to read the earlier parts to get up to speed with the journey so far.
Foreword #4: This story was inspired from a suggestion from a fellow reader, Bablee, whose name I have used in the story but for no other purpose than having a name for a character.
Foreword #5: Thank you so much to mbrow for being kind enough to read the draft story and provide his edits. Very much appreciated.
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It was my darling husband who bought me this notebook, leather bound with gold trimmings, as an homage to my fifty years. It was my darling husband who also suggested I put it to good use. He even bought the pen that I have been using to write my memoirs. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember that it is a real story and one in which I was the centre of all attention.
So now my love life is better than it's ever been — okay at a little over fifty it is more about the quality than the quantity, but it is still better than ever. In my time away, I learnt much about myself and even more about my relationship with my darling husband.
My introduction to this new world had been tentative to say the least. It started with a stranger on the top deck of a cruise ship. As I watched his wife getting ravaged by another's cock, he sat unperturbed and pleasured me past the point of no return. Even his explanation took me by surprise at the time, although now I can fully connect with what he said.
"That's what makes our love so much stronger. It is a matter of trust and freedom. We love each other so intimately, but sometimes in a relationship you just need a little bit more. That's where the freedom comes into it. We are both free to be ourselves, together or apart, yet we know we will come back to each other happier and stronger."
An evening with a fellow member of the team really started me on my voyage of discovery. For all I was naive and conservative, Melodee was the total opposite. It was she who pointed out that Swinger's bar was nothing to do with baseball. It was also she who showed me just how exquisite sex could be. What started as nothing more than a little people watching had drawn me in to something much more promising. All I needed was to find a suitable teacher who could show me just what I had been missing.
Her name was Melodee.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Before I left Melodee's cabin we had it all mapped out. Melodee had promised to go as slowly as I needed. Little and often was on offer. It seemed perfect to me as I still wasn't sure where this would take me, or even if I really wanted to get all the way there. It was like paddling in the sea. You think you want to do it, but only when you dip your toes in the water do you find out whether the temperature is hot or cold. For a middle-aged conservative woman, it seemed like I had come paddling for the first time. I so hoped that the water would be warm.
Melodee explained that all good lessons needed a plan. We agreed to meet at the weekend and decide what my plan looked like. To get the best results, I needed to be comfortable and happy in what we were to do. What was it Melodee had said?
"It all comes from inside. You need to know where you want to go and to be comfortable in how you can get there. When you find your place, you will come to enjoy it, and the more you come to enjoy it, the more you will want to stay in your place. It's like a drug, addictive and, once hooked, so very hard to break away from."
Two days later I was back outside her cabin, knocking on the door. This time around there was no delay in response, the door opening almost as I rapped my knuckles on it for the final time. There, dressed in a long white dressing gown, was my teacher for the evening. I smiled.
"Bablee, so nice to see you again. Do come inside," came a very warm welcome.
I followed her in, closing the door behind me. It was then that I felt the butterflies inside. A combination of remembering the memories of the last time I was in this room, combined with a realisation that I was about to take myself somewhere I would not have imagined only a few weeks ago, had my heart pounding. I so hoped Melodee still had some of that Dutch courage she had offered last time. I needn't have worried as there on the side, already poured, were a couple of glasses.
"Now, Bablee, before we get started, I thought you might need one of these."
She passed me a glass and I took a gulp, regretting my impatience a little as the fire hit the back of my throat. At least, if nothing else, the placebo effect was to calm my nerves slightly.
"Do you mind if I make myself a little more comfortable?" Melodee asked.
"Of course not," came my expected answer.
I wondered to myself just how she could get much more comfortable than the softness of a plush dressing gown. It didn't take long to find out, in fact it took no longer than the time needed to pull open the bow holding the belt in place. The gown gaped opened at the front and I saw in an instant that Melodee was naked underneath. A minute later and the gown was sitting on a chair, with my host standing in front of me wearing nothing more than her birthday suit. I couldn't help but stare.
"So, Bablee, why don't you make yourself more comfortable too?"
I guess I hadn't expected this, at least not the minute I walked in the door. Yes, I knew it would be required at some time, but Melodee was being so blasé about her nudity. With a body like hers, I could understand why, but I was a forty-odd year-old middle-aged woman rather than a sexy young chick. I hesitated, sitting there ogling Melodee's large upright melons, making no attempt to move. It was déjà vu. I simply sat there, just like the last time Melodee had suggested I strip off in front of her.
"Mmm, I see," was Melodee's reaction. "If we are going to do this Bablee, then you must be comfortable in yourself, and that means without clothes as well as with. To be honest, the expectation in this game is usually without, more than with. Are you okay with that or do you need a little time to think it through? I guess I was the same at the start as well."
She was being so nice, so understanding. There was not an ounce of condescendence in her voice. I hung on to every word, letting them sink in and thinking them through. There was something reassuring in her tone, just like that last time we had met.
"It's just that . . ." I tried to explain, but it was like Melodee was reading my mind, taking over mid-sentence.
"Just that I'm stood here, a figment of most men's fantasies, platinum-blonde locks running seductively over my shoulders, oversize tits with not an ounce of sag to be seen, and not a wisp of body hair in sight?"
I nodded. Yes, that was it. She had the body to die for, and I didn't. There was no hiding the fact that the years had taken some toll. I wasn't too bad for my age, but for sure there was a little droop up top, and my natural bush was almost verging on the unkempt.
"You see, Bablee, I'm a bit of a fraud and you're for real," came Melodee's reassuring voice.
"What do you mean? You're beautiful Melodee."
"Yes, that's what they all say, but beauty isn't always skin deep, and you have so much that I don't have. You just need to have some confidence in yourself and all you have to offer. Now, why don't I give you a hand?"
Without thinking, I downed the rest of my glass and stood up. Slowly, gently, and with Melodee's help, I stripped off and stood in front of her. I couldn't help but compare the two of us. She exuded sexual desire whereas I, in my own opinion, exuded nothing more than comforting motherhood.
"Let me tell you a secret," whispered Melodee as she took my hand and placed it on her left breast. "Go on, take a squeeze at my fake, plastic tits. You didn't think they were real, did you?"
I squeezed gently. They felt real enough to me, firm plump flesh standing to attention on the young woman's frame.
"I don't know what you mean."
"They're fake. You know, a boob job to make them look like this. Yours, though are just as nature intended."
She removed my hand from her breast and placed it on my own. I squeezed gently and, yes, there was something just a little more natural.
"And these blonde locks. Fake as well, the effects of lashings of peroxide. Even the lack of bush is artificial, just as well given that the rug would never have matched the curtains. Don't you see it Bablee? I've made myself look sexy whereas you are just full of natural love. For everyone who wants a bimbo like me, there are just as many who want a real woman, and that's you Bablee. Believe me, I've been around for long enough. Now, come here and let me feel you close to me."
I thought I could read people, but I hadn't expected this. Was Melodee being truthful or just trying to build my confidence? What she said though came across with honesty and sincerity. It did make me feel better, more confident and I guess a little less self-conscious. Without hesitation, I walked into Melodee's embrace. We stood there for several minutes, enjoying nothing more than the warmth of each other's naked bodies, a warmth which melted away much of my natural conservatism. A gentle kiss followed and then whispered words.
"Shall we sit down on the bed and you can tell me a little about what it is you know, and what it is you want to know. I don't want to teach you how to suck eggs, cocks maybe, but not eggs."
We laughed and sat down. I had my legs crossed and dangling over the side of the bed. Melodee on the other hand, sat cross legged on top of the bed providing a full view down her shaven snatch. In an effort to show willingness, I pulled myself up and did likewise. I still felt a little out of my comfort zone, but I had better get used to it now if I wanted to be serious about learning.
"Good," came Melodee's response.
I could almost feel the burn of her eyes as they peered deep into my thick bush, tracing that line formed by my plump outer lips. She took my two hands within her own and smiled back at me.
"Now, how about I ask a few questions and you tell me whether you've been there or not, or even whether you want to go there or not. What do you think?"
"Okay," was my single word answer, wondering just what sort of questions she'd be asking.
"So, Bablee, let's start with the easy one. I think you mentioned that you had children so obviously you're not a total beginner. Shall we start with your favourite positions?"
"Er, okay," I replied nervously. "Usually we'd do it in bed, under the covers with the lights off."
There was a nervous pause, followed by laughter. Melodee squeezed my hand and smiled.
"I was meaning sexual positions. You know, missionary, cowgirl, spoons, doggy, standing, something else?"
