Author's stuff: Thanks to wonderful kenjisato again for his great edits. This goes back into Annabelle's past.
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Annabelle 09
I said at the end of Chapter 8, I would, in the next few chapters, look back at some of my sexual highlights, including and since losing my virginity at eighteen. So here goes with the first one.
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Nick and I moved to Oakhampton in 2015. We had lived in London for the last sixteen years, where I had moved after doing my PGCE in Birmingham. Nick and I had met at Birmingham University in my final year, where I was studying English, and him business studies.
More on what drew us together and those early years, later. By the time this chapter starts, our dwindling passion was putting a strain on our relationship. As I said in Chapter 1, it was Nick who had lost it. We had both been very randy and sexually active for the first ten years of our marriage.
And then without warning, Nick just gradually lost interest. It went from sex almost every night, to two or three times a week, then once a week, then a couple of times a month. It was so gradual, I thought nothing of it, at first--but after a year, I worried.
We talked a lot about it, but he just put it down to the pressures of business and being too tired. He worked in finance and certainly put the hours in. He was making shitloads of money, but our relationship was suffering.
I went along with it for five years and did not stray. Then the sixth form college where I worked, announced it was closing. The job in Oakhampton appealed for a couple of reasons. It was a long-standing college with a great reputation. I also thought a change of scenery for us both, would work.
Nick was happy to agree. By then, he was earning a six-figure salary with a lot put away; we lived extremely well. He acknowledged he could do a lot of his business from home, with a visit to London once a week. He seemed so keen on the idea, that the night we sold the house, he actually initiated a fuck and promised me things would be better when we moved.
And for the first six months, it was. We were fucking again two or three times a week, with the occasional weekend in bed. When it was good--it was awesome. He knew exactly how to get me off slowly and quickly, hard and soft, with every part of his body.
And then it began to diminish again. After eighteen months, we were back where we started. Again, we talked a lot about it. At no point then or before, did I get angry at him. I knew there was no point. Something had changed in him and I had to hope desperately, it would change back again in time.
This time, though, something had changed in me, too. The short-lived resurrection of our fucking, had reminded me of how much I enjoyed sex. I realised I could not live without it. What I didn't know, of course, was how much I would enjoy it cold, so to speak. Doing it with someone I did not love. But I would not know that without trying would I? I did not go out straight on the pull, but my sexual antennae definitely became active.
They began to twitch a few weeks after their restart. The catalyst was the local vicar, of all people. His name was Derek, and I put him in his early sixties. He was average in every way, except for being a well-built, tall bugger, but was a very caring and sensitive bloke. One of the women in the village we had moved to, had said how good a listener he was, when I had told her of mine and Nick's problems. Apparently, you didn't have to go to church to make use of his services.
So I rang him and went round for a chat. It turns out he had done a counselling course so knew what he was doing. He listened well, and only interjected to make suggestions to help me sort my thoughts and feelings out.
It was the sixth session, when I realised his eyes would, more than once, stray down to either my tits or legs. I wasn't bothered, just interested. And when he got up at the end of the session to come with me to the door, the outline of a hard cock in his trousers, brought the first flush of wetness to Miss Kitty for some time. That night, when I brought my fingers into play, Derek definitely had a starring role.
I knew Derek was married. I was curious to try to find out whether he had played away before.
Shirley, the friend who had recommended him, reacted very strongly to my question.
"Of course not!" she said. "He's a vicar, and a very happily married man."
I apologised, but had a fleeting thought that 'she doeth protest too much,' as if she was hiding something.
Anyway, I decided to just go with the flow, and see what happened.
Being the minx that I am, I prepared carefully. I chose one of my silk blouses which clearly showed my charms, especially as I chose not to wear a bra. I also went commando, of course.
As soon as I walked into his little office, Derek's eyes were on stalks when he saw my blouse and what it didn't hide. I sat across from him in an easy chair, and as the conversation went on, kept crossing and uncrossing my legs, letting them fall a little wider apart each time. By the time the session was over, he had had a clear view of my hairy pussy for ten minutes. What with that and my straining nipples, he was extremely distracted.
"Are you okay, Derek?" I asked innocently, when he didn't finish something he was saying--because he was staring at my fanny.
"Oh no, I'm fine!" he stammered, tearing his eyes away.
"I thought I might come to church on Sunday," I said, spreading my legs another inch apart. "I think I may find some peace listening to you."
Derek stammered, "Yes, I think that would be a great idea."
On Sunday, I got there early and made sure I was in the front pew. When Derek saw me, he went red. His face colour brightened even more, when during the first hymn he gandered at me and my open legs. You can guess!
I was very impressed with the way he managed to get through the whole service, with his voice only cracking once. I don't think anyone noticed.
I left as soon as the service finished, but instead of heading out, I went and found the loo. I didn't want to use it--I just wanted to hide, so that I could go and find Derek, hopefully alone, after everyone had gone.
I occupied the time by playing gently with my extremely hot and wet cunt. My fingers were very smelly and sticky by the time I guessed everyone would have gone, and I headed quietly out.
The church was empty. I went straight for the vestry, where I hoped Derek still was doing something or other. After listening carefully at the door and hearing nothing, I gently depressed the door handle and slipped inside.
Derek was there, and he was doing something. His right hand was moving in a steady rhythm up and down the very hard cock sticking straight up from a small spread of grey pubic hair. Being a big bloke, he had big hands. As there was at least an inch of his manhood sticking out beyond his grip, I put his length at about nine inches. He also looked to be a bit thicker than average. His legs were spread, and his ball sack hung down, large. There was a lot of stuff in them, I thought.
Derek still had his shirt and collar on. For some reason, I found this even more of a turn-on.
We looked at each other, quite calmly given the situation. Without speaking, I took my blouse and skirt off and went to the table in the corner, which I bent over, offering him my arse.
"I can think of a better place to put that spunk than your hands."
