"You know, I never thought I'd ever say this, but divorce really does agree with you," Cindy said as she trimmed another inch off my shiny mane of auburn hair so that it fell softly above my shoulders.
If she was talking about the overall way I was looking, then she was right. The new style she'd created with the wispy fringe accentuating my deep blue eyes was indeed flattering and my return to the gym was showing pleasing results. Of course, my breasts weren't quite as pert as they had been when I was in my twenties but they were still a good firm handful and the new exercise regime had my butt and thighs in good shape. But there were days like today where I felt every one of my forty six years. On the outside I looked okay, but internally there were still unresolved issues that I needed to deal with.
At least the divorce agreement had finally been settled after months of ugly legal wrangles. When it came to matters of finances, Quinton was as mean as cat shit. I didn't particularly want his money, my inheritance from my late father was well invested and was paying me a healthy monthly income, but still there was a principle involved. I had worked my ass off and made plenty of sacrifices to get the business off the ground and besides that, I wanted him to know that his indiscretions and infidelity came at a heavy price.
Still, I wasn't bitter at the fact that it was over. We'd begun to drift apart in the last few years. Perhaps it was all the time and energy we spent in building up the business or maybe it was because we'd never had children, but somehow our passion for each other had dwindled. I tried to dismiss my first suspicions that he might be cheating, but it's difficult to ignore traces of bright pink lipstick, a color I never wore, and the lingering scent of unfamiliar perfume on his clothes. The final straw was when I discovered a receipt that had fallen out of his shirt pocket into the laundry basket. It was for one of those sleazy hot bed joints, obviously for an afternoon tryst out of the office. Somehow the sneaking around and lies pissed me off more than anything else. It would have been so much easier and more civilized if he would have just come right out and said he wanted a divorce.
"So you have a hot date tonight?' Cindy asked breaking into my thoughts.
Damn, she was inquisitive, but she meant no harm. I knew that it was her second nature as a hairstylist to be a confidante, counselor, and always available to lend a willing ear if clients wanted to bitch and moan. I laughed; maybe a girl's hairdresser was her best friend after all.
"Who knows?" I said rolling my eyes, "But I doubt it. It's another one of those fix-up dates by well meaning friends." Frankly, I was dreading it. They were all the same; long strained evenings over dinner making polite conversation with confirmed bachelor types or divorced men who were basically desperate to get laid.
"Oh c'mon Louise, lighten up a bit. You're going to look stunning tonight and you know some of those guys have been round the block, they know how to please a girl in bed."
"Is that so?" I laughed cynically, "Right now, I prefer to please myself. I don't need all that baggage they drag around with them. So many of them are just another version of Quinton. As they say, I've been there, done that, got the divorce papers."
" Hmm, please yourself huh?" Cindy muttered softly as she finished up drying my hair. A wicked smile played around her lips and for a moment, I felt distinctly awkward at having made such a blatant revelation.
"Ever been to a Pleasure Party Louise?"
"What's a Pleasure Party?"
She smiled sultrily. "Oh it's so much fun, lots of wine, an array of the sexiest lingerie and..."
"Yeah, and what else?" I asked, almost certain of what was to follow. This was no Avon or Tupperware get-together.
"...And the best range of sex toys you can buy in private. Absolutely everything a girl needs to um... please herself," she said grinning naughtily.
"So you're talking from personal experience?" I quipped hoping the flush spreading across my cheeks would be mistaken as a reaction to the heat from the hairdryer.
Truthfully, I was intrigued and keen to experiment. Since the break up with Quinton my sexual self esteem was seriously waning but I was still horny. Masturbation was my primary release but no matter how skilled I'd become at whipping up a froth in my pussy with my fingers, I missed the feeling of being penetrated. The idea of buying a dildo had crossed my mind several times but I just couldn't see myself going into one of those adult stores on my own.
"Hey I'm so experienced, I'm thinking of doing a little toy review work for manufacturers, magazines and internet sex sites," she laughed. 'Give me your address and I'll pick you up at seven on Wednesday evening. We're going to have a blast!"
Giggling like a teenager, I scribbled my details on the card she handed me. Damn, I hoped I didn't look too eager or desperate, but no way was I going to miss out on that party.
***
Who would ever have thought that a group of ordinary women, who looked no different from the ladies at my book club meetings, could contribute so significantly to my sex education?
I was not innocent by a long shot and had my share of fun and experimentation in college before settling down with Quinton but next to some of these women, I was a babe in the woods. As the wine flowed, the talk got raunchier and the intimate revelations spilled. The tales of bisexual fucking, bored housewives and their horniness, phone sex and of course, personal reviews of various sex toys had me gulping more wine than I should have, purely to avoid having my mouth hang open in astonishment. By the time we'd 'oohed' and 'ahhed' our way through the lingerie, and the toys came out a warm hazy horniness had taken hold of me from the depraved sexual images flooding my mind and all the alcohol I'd consumed. My pussy also seemed to have taken on a life of its own and drooled with eager anticipation.
Being nonchalant while making the purchases was easier than waiting to get home to use them. That was sheer agony and when I eventually closed the door to my house, my body was a bundle of over stimulated nerves waiting to explode.
So intense was my arousal that I didn't really need the toys that night. One or two strokes of my clit would have had me over the edge, but the anticipation of being stretched open with the heavily veined dildo had me gasping for breath. I trembled as my fingers struggled to close around the rubber shaft and while it had been my plan to tease myself first and hold off allowing the toy entry, the first touch of the smooth mushroom head against my drooling wetness had me sobbing and breathless for more. The thick shaft slid snugly inside me, like a hot knife through butter; its path into my throbbing depths made easy by the oozing juice that was leaking from my begging flesh.
"Oh fuck," I moaned as I plunged the toy in as deep as it could go savoring the glorious feeling of being penetrated and fucked. I pulled it back slowly and tried to steady my breathing as the sensations of my stretched pussy walls clinging greedily to the rubber cock overwhelmed me. The throbbing inside my pussy intensified with every touch of my clit which was trapped against the veined shaft. I flipped the switch on to the maximum vibration and screamed as my pussy exploded and convulsed around the thick stalk in wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.
The toys awakened all kinds of desires in me and the next few weeks were spent blissfully discovering the depth and intensity of my true sexuality. Explicit sexual fantasies that I never dreamed I could even imagine flooded my mind and I became adept at stimulating my body until orgasm after orgasm ripped through me leaving me trembling and weak. This got me wondering about what other people, specifically men fantasized about and my mind went back to the raunchy talk at the sex toy party. Carol, the most outspoken woman there, had confessed that her favorite way to masturbate was with a stranger on the phone exchanging lurid fantasies and filthy talk. A shiver of excitement shot up my spine at the thought of having a complete stranger listen to me pleasuring myself while he whispered his dirty fantasies in my ear. Carol said most of her play was on a local leave-message-and-connect phone sex line. I decided to investigate and give it a try.
And so began the journey into yet another element of my sexuality. At first it was little weird but I learned to relax and enjoy the wicked thrill of being completely uninhibited with a total stranger. Within a couple of minutes of talking I would know if there was some heat between us, and if there was, there were no limits. Fingering and toying my pussy, losing myself in the lewd wet sounds of my pleasure with strange men all over the country made me feel like a shameless wanton slut but I loved it. It remained my dirty little secret while publicly I continued to show my normal conservative demeanor. Many of the men wanted to meet me, but I was reluctant to take it further. It was satisfying a need without me having to worry about all the health issues surrounding casual sex, nor the daunting emotional costs of a full-on relationship. Besides, none of the men were 'special' enough to meet. Special to me, meant compelling, creative, funny and outrageously sexy.
