*******This story is a fantasy and not meant as a moral blueprint or a suggestion on how to live your life. It is a fantasy that involves inappropriate sex between consenting adults with a large age difference. If this theme sounds like it could bother you, I would encourage you not to read it. Otherwise, comments and constructive criticism are both welcome*******
I love the smell after long rain showers. Emerging from a place of cover feels akin to rebirth. The fresh, earthy smell mixed with the sense of calmness invigorates me in a way that is fleeting if I stop to think about it. It's one of those thoughts that is lost at the moment of reflection. I would like to just capture a moment like that in time and hold it, close my eyes and get lost in the wonder of the sensation, without thinking about the chemical reaction that causes it. I just need to let me mind go quiet; but that is one thing that I've never had a grasp on. Thoughts constantly fill my mind and push my feelings out. I want to be present in the moment but once one thought is followed the damn is broken and soon my mind is flooded with thoughts, the world returns in the same state. I just want to be present in the moment of right now, and not what led me there or the consequences to come.
It had been raining for a very long time; longer than I could ever remember. Flooding had become a major problem and property damage was everywhere. I hadn't been to work in a couple days due to building closures. In the part of Canada where I'm from we just aren't used to this much water. Give us snow and we'll shovel it, cold weather and we'll tolerate it, but so much rain and we are lost for solutions. We don't have levies and houses are regularly built on what anyone with any knowledge of ecology would recognize as a floodplain. Our house is built on a hill, so I didn't deal with any damage first hand; I still felt a vicarious sense of loss for those who did lose their homes or possessions. The thoughts that had overtaken my mind were of the introspective and reflective variety.
My name is Michelle. I live in the suburbs with my family, my husband and two children. In many ways we are not at want for too much. The real storms always seem to just miss us. I recently turned 43, but unlike in the past, the calendar turning over wasn't a reason to despair. I am finally getting comfortable in being middle aged, it took 8 years to get there, but it's not something I resent anymore. Sure, there are times when I wish I had my body of 22 back, but other times when I realize that maybe having that back would not be worth the hassle. At 5'6" and 155, I am a bit rounder in the hips than back then. I also came to notice that men seem to like that; especially younger men. I still have enough vanity to enjoy the sly looks and to encourage them when it suits me.
I do like what I see when I look in the mirror. My hair is usually brown, but in the interest of fun I let my 14 year old daughter dye it, well partially dye it. She had decided to break my heart by turning her envy invoking blonde hair pink. Instead of lamenting the occasion, I decided to join her and now the bottom of my hair is straightened and purple. A reasonably dark purple, but purple nevertheless. I sort of like it, the deep colour makes my eyes look brighter. The shine also reduces the show any wrinkles in photos.
My home life can project the outward appearance of being idyllic. I always find that the better you get to know any family the less normal they seem and we are no exception to this. At home, when not hassling my kids, I spend a lot of time reading or working on my various projects. I try not to be anti-social, but I have been accused of this trait. The need for the type of social interactions I sought when I was younger seem to be lost or at least lying dormant. Regardless of that, I always try to make time for my family. My son is nearly 20 and not easy to pin down, but much easier to talk to than when he was younger. We are actually able to talk without him making me feel like a police officer. My daughter and I sometimes resemble friends, and despite some fights about homework, get along very well.
As for my marriage, we are still best friends and do everything together and plan for the future, but in the bedroom things have been difficult. Sex stopped being fun for us and instead is generally a source of stress. We still have sex, I think that it's important to have that intimate connection in a marriage, but often it can lead to disagreements. He will accuse me of faking this or that and in the heat of the moment, confronted with the truth, I will admit it. Things tend to go downhill from there. He will pout and I will get angry, before the customary apologies and concessions. Sometimes I wish we could just cuddle without getting into everything else.
The bedroom issues are magnified by the fact that I haven't lost my desire for sex. I go through long stretches of feeling horny constantly. Little things can set me off. The feeling that starts in the pit of my stomach and radiates to the edges of my body, gets caught in my throat and makes the blood flow to erogenous zones. It can happen at work, the yoga studio, the supermarket, while playing soccer, sitting in traffic, basically anywhere. It seems like a cruel joke: being hornier than ever and that having an inverse relationship with the amount of sex I'm having.
Even when the frustration boils over I tell myself that having an affair is not an option. I'm not proud of it, but I have been down that road and while the scenery is pleasant the overall trip is not much fun. The guilt becomes overwhelming and really when you get right down to it, an affair is a lot of work. Balancing a secret relationship becomes very time consuming and like a chore. After the initial excitement dies down, I realized that I started a fire in the basement to put one out in the bedroom; and soon the entire house is on fire. In the end the guilt completely consumed me and I ended the affair and admitted to my infidelities. Part of my penance was to promise not to in the future let that happen again and I take that promise seriously.
Instead fantasies became my main escape. A trigger would become a starting point and my mind would work out the details. I would even find myself thinking my fantasies while masturbating. Generally when I do that I will focus on the sensation. Now, I would have fantasies, sometimes depraved ones, overtaking my mind while I increased or relaxed the physical stimulation. I would also find myself chatting online, often pushing the boundaries of my fantastical limits. It's addicting to get caught in that sort of world, I like to hear about the thoughts people have that they would never dream of saying in a room where another person is breathing. I'd sometimes end these sorties into the darker side of sex thinking about what might be wrong with me, all the while maintaining a naughty sense of self satisfaction and the need to change my panties.
To avoid the long drawn out arguments that often were a result of sex I started giving more hand-jobs. My husband seemed satisfied by them and I do enjoy doing it. I feel like no matter what is going on in my mind I should make the effort to be present as a wife. I think, while he would never say it, he liked having the pressure relieved in that way too. It's like we have an understanding and we do have a caring relationship. I don't hold my husband at fault for our bedroom issues, being married for nearly 20 years is a difficult balancing act for both partners. What I crave in bed, is intimacy and a relaxed expression of that. When our sex revolves around mutual masturbation or oral, that expression became more visceral to the action. I love when he sucks my nipples or rubs them while whispering in my ear while I rub. It can lead to a low key, but long and thoroughly pleasing orgasm. In those times our bed relieves frustrations rather than adding to them.
In Canada, for whatever reason, we celebrate the birthday of Queen Victoria every 24th of May. Although the significance of Queen Victoria is basically lost on every Canadian, this does not diminish the festivities. In fact, many people just call it the May long weekend or the May two-four, implying that beer will be bought by the 24. To me, my partying days were no longer even visible in my rear view mirror, but I welcomed the long weekend as some time to relax. My husband had a long anticipated golf vacation planned with his brother and cronies, one that I started to anticipate too, simply so I could stop hearing about it. I'm not the type of wife to make too many inquiries or worry about whatever they get up to down there as long as it stays there. My mind would be clear of worry for my days of peace. Or at least so I thought.
My son, who just turned 20, and in university had developed the taste for partying that I had lost, this meant some late nights out. In theory, and legal status, he was living at home but in practice he spent a lot of time elsewhere. I don't get into helicoptering adults so I knew as much about his life and he wanted me to know. For this long weekend, the party would be happening rather close to where we lived. My son, Justin, asked if he could have some guys over, because the party was far from campus and they didn't want anyone driving. While this didn't preclude the use of a taxi, I was trying to be understanding to the necessary cheapness of students.
"Just how many friends or well-wishers were you planning to have here?" I said while invoking my skeptical mother tone.
