Dear Dirty Diary

I turned forty-seven in December and for the first time in my life, felt a need to record my most personal thoughts and actions. My husband told me it would put everything into perspective and pointed out that someday when I'm old and gray, I'll have these memories to cherish. Of late, I have been hopelessly preoccupied with matters of the heart. In particular, urges of a sexual nature have bordered on becoming an obsession. I'll be the first to admit that my desire had waned since I had my children, but they're gone off to university now so I'm free once more to enjoy the more physical side of loving. I'm afraid some of the romps I've indulged myself in lately have been way out of character for me, but I'm sure this has just been a temporary fit of lust and my hunger will lessen as I mature.

I just pray that Doug understands my changing desires, now that my maternal phase has lessened. I know he's been disappointed so many times in the past but I just couldn't change from a doting mother into a sex-crazed slut when my kids were in adjacent bedrooms, with their ears to the walls. So my New Year's resolution is to seek out and find a new sexual identity for myself. To make sure that I don't falter in my quest for the unique and lustful loving I crave, I hereby promise to record the details of every exciting sexual encounter I have as long as I am able.

______________________

Dear Dirty Diary,

Brassy trumpets, thumping drums and crashing cymbals increasingly trespassed into the soundtrack of my most lushly sensual daydream. The brassy confusion of marching bands obliterated the wind's delicate whispering through tall pine trees as well as the plaintive cries of loons. My shimmering vision of sparkling blue waters surrounding our idyllic lovers' bed, perched atop a tiny rocky island, all but disappeared. Johnston was the only person I seriously ever considered an affair with. I tried my best to blot out the racket and return to my daydream. My hand searched for comfort between my legs and to my delight, my fingertips found warm wetness seeping from my well. In my mind, I returned to erotic thoughts of my muscular friend. I remembered the first two years picking apples with him and how the other migrant pickers would tell us of his exploits with the local ladies. Whenever he tried to con me, I'd just blush, get all flustered and walk away in embarrassment.

The third year, however, I had celebrated my forty-sixth birthday and now that we were empty nesters, something had dramatically altered my way of looking at life. Doug, my husband, concerned that he had been the only lover in my life, occasionally told me that taking a lover at least once in my life might be good for me. I'd read that approaching menopause brings out an insatiable craving for naughtiness in most women and I seemed to be no exception to the premise. All through the springtime, my erotic notions pertaining to Johnston had fueled many brave new sexual experiences with Doug, much to his approval.

Finally toward the end of summer, Johnston and the crew arrived back in town. While walking through the mall with my husband one Saturday, Johnston spied me and said hello. After introducing him to Doug, they shook hands. We chatted for a while then carried on our way. As we strolled along, I shared the gossip about Johnston's way with women and asked him why so many women were drawn to scoundrels like him.

He chuckled and said, "It's probably because he's hung like a horse."

I asked him how he knew that foolishness.

With remarkable authority on the subject, Doug explained, "Johnston is probably 6'-4" tall, has big feet and extremely long fingers." According to my husband, that combination of features pretty much guarantees a nine or ten inch penis on black males. A few steps later he said to me, "Johnston would probably be the best lover a woman looking for a fling could hope to find. Doug, as if he was reading my mind, pointed out that he was in splendid physical condition, undoubtedly sexually skilled from all his previous affairs and best of all, posed no long-term threat to a woman's marriage. As soon as the apples were picked, he would have to return to Barbados.

The third day after I started picking again in September, my van wouldn't start after work. Johnston, a mechanic in Barbados, quickly found a loose battery cable and tightened it for me. I thanked him graciously and told him if he ever needed a ride to town, I was available. Friday, wouldn't you know it, he asked if I'd take him and a few others shopping that evening? A promise is a promise, so I agreed. Doug seemed unconcerned with my goodwill gesture, but sarcastically told me to not come home pregnant. The following Friday, they asked again, offering to pay for my gas and buy me coffee and donuts, if I'd take them shopping again.

This became a regular occurrence for over a month, until one Friday, only Johnston appeared at the road for a ride. He told me the others had gone to a singles' dance at the Acres but he had better things in mind. He was dressed nicely and was drenched in intoxicating cologne. That night, he wished only to buy some nice sexy underwear for his wife and go to the liquor store, so I obliged. As the night was still young, he suggested we get some fruit juice for mix, go for a drive down by the lake and have a nice long conversation. He talked about his life in Barbados, where he lived and how he missed it. I pointed out that, other than different kinds of trees on the shoreline, Lake Ontario looked just like the Caribbean Sea in the full moon's light.

The next thing I knew, he was telling me how lovely my brown eyes were, how bright and cheerful I was and how beautiful my big breasts were. He reached over and cupped my breast in his big hand then boldly began to squeeze my nipple. I instinctively grabbed his forearm to pull it away but I was overwhelmed with how soft his skin was. With virtually no bristly hair on his arm, it felt as smooth as a baby's bottom. I guess gently stoking the skin on his arm wasn't the deterrent I meant it to be and soon he had twisted and teased my nipple embarrassingly erect. I looked down in wonderment at those long strong fingers, curious if Doug really knew what he was talking about. I should have realized Johnston would view my slow reaction to his advances as a green light to proceed. In one quick movement, his hand flipped up my skirt. His fingers felt right up between my thighs, tugged down my panties then pressed against my labia. To my great surprise, I felt one, then two, and then three thick long fingers poke effortlessly into juicy old me, filling me up as fully as Doug's whole penis.

It was then my eyes wandered to the bulge in his black satin track pants. I just couldn't help myself. I had to see if it was as big as he said it would be. With trembling fingers, I undid the drawstring then tugged down the waistband of his pants. I reached in through the fly of his briefs and grabbed hold of his penis near its base. I tried to pull it out but as it swelled, it just wouldn't come out through the little opening. Finally, I stretched up his underwear, pulled hard and out it popped. I fingered it lightly at first, reveling now, at the softness of his penis' skin. It straightened out like a fire-hose filling with water. I pulled back his foreskin tightly, and then glided the fingers of my free hand loosely up and down his penis. I'm afraid that Doug was quite accurate in his forecast. Oh my god, just looking at and feeling Johnston's fully erect penis took my breath away. I heard my pussy slurp louder and juicier as his fingers played around.

His fearsome ebony penis wavered straight up in the moonlight with each beat of his heart. It must have been ten inches long and as thick as my wrist! The more I rubbed and played with it, the more I imagined how every bit of it might feel inside my vagina. I felt Johnston stuff his fourth finger into my vulva to ready me for the monster. Wouldn't you know it, at that exact moment I remembered Doug's smart remark about not getting pregnant.

When I asked him if he had a condom, Johnston said, "Sorry my dear, but shouldn't that be your responsibility?" When I told him there'd be no intercourse without one, he laughed in his rich baritone voice then said, "Well then my dear, we'll just have to play with each other instead."

I was thoroughly disappointed, but on the other hand, those four strong fingers filling my pussy while he thumbed my clitoris felt pretty damned good. I rubbed up and down his penis with my fingers. It was too thick to wrap my fingers around, so with both hands around it in a chokehold, strangled it as hard as I could, then stroked like crazy. At one point, in a lusty fit of bravery, I kissed, and then tried to suck the head of his penis. It was very uncomfortable stretching my mouth over his huge corona and it made me gag. At that point, of course, he started to moan and then sperm started to ooze out of his penis. Thank god he didn't shoot all over the place like Doug. It just welled up out the end and drooled down all over my fingers. Panicking over all this highly volatile sperm sliming down my hands, I must have used up half a box of tissues and several baby wipes cleaning us both up. On the drive home, we plotted to meet the following Friday night, this time in a motel and me with condoms.

All that week, I fantasized about Johnston and prepared for my first affair. I bought twelve large condoms, figuring this didn't have to be a one-night stand. Every morning after Doug got up, I'd do pussy-stretching exercises to increase my vulva's flexibility. I figured it would have to be a lot better toned to accommodate that penis of his. Friday, before Doug got home, I showered and put on the lacy black see-through panties and bra set my husband bought me for Valentines on under my dress. I was pumped and ready for action long before we finished supper. I waited until nine-thirty for the call from Johnston that never came!

The following Monday the orchard was buzzing with how Johnston went to the singles' dance late Friday night. They laughed and teased Johnston about how the fat girl that picked him up at the dance liked his dick so much she asked him to move in with her. To hide my disappointment, I reconciled myself by accepting the fact that the fat girl's "bed and breakfast" would probably be a better bet than a secret fling with a married woman.

Brassy trumpets, thumping drums and crashing cymbals increasingly trespassed once more as my eyes unwillingly adjusted to the familiar realities of our bedroom. My bleary eyes read 10:30 on the alarm clock as I questioned the reason for that horrible racket coming from downstairs. The acrid aroma of burning bacon and frying eggs assailed my nostrils as gruff-sounding men bantered with authority and conviction. Occasionally more band music, the roar of crowds and shrieking whistles added to the complexity of the din. Suddenly a feeling of revulsion swept over me as I realized that today was New Year's Day and I had been trying, with fantasies of the past, to drown out the football pre-game warm up shows! Disappointment immediately rushed through me as one loving image of intimate togetherness after another fell like dominos in my heart. The bliss of my daydream seemed so distant now as I contemplated the onslaught of this most forsaken of all days.

Forty-seven years of contempt for the manly pastimes of football, baseball, basketball and hockey suddenly erupted in my mind as it raced through so many memories of painful indifference from my father, my brothers, my husband and now, even my son. All the men in my life had indeed forsaken me for the lure of televised sports events. I read once that I was, by no means alone in my frustration. Some men get so caught up by the violence of these contests that they tend to mistake their women for combatants. Thankfully, Doug controls his blood lust perfectly and has never hurt me. Eventually, I gained control of my seething emotions and decided that all my pent-up passion could be channeled into better use. It was the first day of a brand new year and my mind was now in a whirl. The kids had gone to friends' houses for the football parties and Doug, for once, hadn't invited any of his cronies over for a party. We'd be alone, at least for the better part of the day. My excitement began to rise as I contemplated the day. This, I thought would be the perfect day to rekindle the love that had been dwindling for such a long time.

After twenty-three years of marriage, I thought it was high time to try something adventurous and daring. Many fantasies passed through my head as I organized a game plan of my own, hoping to entice that easily distracted husband of mine away from his football and into my bed. Determined to lure Doug into my wicked little web, I had to devise a sure fire attention getter. I remembered a sexy video I saw at my neighbor Louise's when she hosted a hen party. In spite of my embarrassment, I did notice that most of the women in the movie had a shaved pubis. That, I was sure he couldn't miss noticing. The more I thought about it, the better the idea seemed. It surely would spark renewed interest, for a while, at least. I knew the hair would certainly grow back, so I set to work shaving of all my pussy hair. With a mirror between my legs and a lot of patience, I managed to shave myself clean and nick free with Doug's little sideburn trimmer.

I took a nice long shower to freshen up and maybe got a little carried away with washing my pussy. I was amused how effortlessly my soap bar slipped between the lips of my vulva without that tangle of pubic hair in the way. In making sure that it was perfectly clean and sweet smelling, somehow my soap bar became lodged up inside my vagina for a while. Lots of hot water sprayed up in there with my hand-held shower head as well as some naughty thoughts about being caught in this predicament, eventually foamed it up enough to squeeze it out with some fancy vulva contractions. I meticulously rinsed my entire body with the shower's spray nozzle. It sent shivers up my abdomen whenever the hot spray tingled against my bare pubes.

After I vigorously toweled myself dry, I was impressed at the pink blush of my skin. When I blew dry my hair, my towel became unwrapped, falling to the floor. My nipples stiffened with the sudden rush of cool air. Gazing at my naked image in my full-length mirror, I took stock of myself. My skin was still clear and taut. My legs were still firm and shapely. My bottom and belly were fuller and rounder than I wished but my breasts were still lovely. They certainly had sagged and spread a bit over the years and breast-feeding had greatly enlarged my nipples but they still looked great.

Gently cupping my breasts, I remembered how good breast-feeding my babies used to feel, particularly with Michael. When he was really hungry, he would suckle so intensely I would become aroused. I always felt so deliciously perverted when his suckling brought on that persistent tingle at the base of my clitoris. I remember fondly, wearing loose nylon panties that would ride up and chafe my vulva as I rocked back and forth in my rocking chair. The sensations would sometimes get so stimulating; I could work myself up into an orgasm. I remember Doug commenting on how big my nipples were becoming. If only he had known!

I opened my lingerie drawers and tried on a variety of outfits. The red and black bustier made me look a fat slut. The black lacy teddy made my skin look pale and a T-shirt just wouldn't do. Doug always liked silky things, so I chose a wispy pink nylon camisole with a frilly plunging neckline, my black nylon stockings and a billowy, oversize pair of pink stretchy nylon briefs that I had snipped the cotton gusset out of to heighten my sensitivity. After donning dangly silver earrings and my pearl necklace, I discreetly sprayed a musk perfume on my neck, between my breasts and down my abdomen. A touch of makeup and I was set. I eyed myself carefully in the mirror and was pleased with what I saw. I was sure Doug would be so taken with my radiant sexuality that he might satisfy the ache that had been torturing me for so long.

I practiced my most alluring looks in the mirror, took a deep breath to gain my composure then strutted toward the family room. By the time I got to the den, I was so excited I began to quiver. My head was spinning, my nipples were so erect they hurt and my vagina had already started to moisten. Doug was already into the games on the television, flipping channels with the remote. My giddiness quickly subsided, however. He hadn't even noticed the grand entrance I worked so hard at!

Gathering my wits, I sexily sat on the arm of his chair and made a production of crossing my legs. I teasingly tugged up and adjusted my nylons to no avail. His attention was firmly fixed on the screen. I bent over, purposely dangling my breasts out over the bodice of my camisole and passionately licked at his ear. It must have been a crucial play in the game, for he jerked his head away and muttered something about the referees.

Taken aback, I thought for a few seconds, and then blurted out, "Doug, I've got a great surprise for you. Don't you want to see it?"

Without even a glance, he said in an annoyed tone, " Sure, sure, just wait till half time and I'll be right there."

Suddenly, all sound in the room was replaced by a terrible ringing in my ears. My eyes welled up with tears as I swear I heard the sound of my heart breaking. Wobbly in remorse, I slunk back into the comfort of my bedroom. "What in hell is wrong with him?" I sobbed, staring at myself in the mirror. I needed his touch so much right then and he had his nose stuck in that damned football game. After a few more bitter tears, I realized that I was quite capable of giving myself an even better time without him. I wiped away my tears, blew my nose and regained my composure. I gave myself a most seductive glance in the mirrored closet doors at the foot of our bed, and then settled back for some fun. I reached over to my night table and lit one of the scented glass jar candles I always keep in the bedroom. I stared at the flickering flame for a few seconds, and then put it back on the table.

I found out later that Doug, not being a complete idiot, realized that he had just missed something really important. He thought about what had transpired, vaguely recalled an ear nibble, an invitation and the quickly dissipating fragrance of my perfume. Fearing being on the shit list for days, he lightly tiptoed to our bedroom, opened the door a crack and peeked in at me. I fluffed up my pillows against the headboard, then propped myself up against them. He said later I looked just like an angel, all dolled up in my beautiful pink lingerie.

I spread open the low cut lacy bodice, bearing my shoulders and well rounded breasts and began to caress them. With my forefinger tips, I tickled circles around the aureoles of my nipples. They both gradually stiffened and grew erect. I grasped both of my teats at their base, and then squeezed them so intensely that their swollen tips turned white. Seeking that deep sensuous pain, I deliberately stretched my nipples out as far as my contorted breasts would allow. Coordinating my pulls with each deep breath, I stretched my breasts unmercifully a few more times. As soon as I released my grip on my nipples, my teats quickly turned dark pink as the blood rushed back into them. By then, Doug said he was supposedly brandishing an awesome erection and felt the deep gnawing of lust as he watched me pleasure myself.

I suddenly began to quiver in anticipation of what I had seen done in Louise's adult movie. I picked up the candle I had lit earlier and gazed hypnotized at the flame. I swirled the glass and found myself smiling slyly at the molten wax. I knew from experience that the melted wax wasn't nearly as hot as it appeared. I was sure it wouldn't burn me, just give me an incredible thrill. I leaned back slightly, lifted up my left breast with my left hand, and then purposely tipped the candle, spilling molten red wax all over my nipple. I gasped softly as both of my nipples swelled erect and wrinkled. By the time I caught my breath, the wax had hardened all over my stiff left teat. Quickly, I lifted my right breast up, and then gave it the same treatment. As soon as that wax hardened, I sat up in bed and craving more, something I'd not seen done before. I spread my legs and sat bowlegged, pulled down the front of my panties and stretched out the waistband as far as it would go. I blew out the candle and with one quick action, poured the remainder of the wax down my pubes. I moaned out loud as the molten stream of wax coursed down my swollen clitoris and into the folds of my labia.