Karen tells her story
I never expected that I could spend so much on food and booze on one night out, cleaned out almost all of the cash I was carrying in my purse ... so many years since I had a night out on the town. A bunch of my best female friends – Jennifer, Michelle, Lisa, Amy, Angela, Melissa and Tracy – we all met as parents of kids when I enrolled my first born at school. They are mostly married women - and me, newly single and not by choice – all of us close to fifty. Who would have thought my life would come to this? Until several months ago, I never expected I'd be in this position.
My dear long-time spouse, Brian, the love-of-my-life – husband of 22 years – dumped me for a newer model, a blonde bimbo more than twenty years younger than me ... and him. How does he expect to keep up with a presumably hot Millennial? I've been through all the soul-searching these past few months. Was I no longer good in bed? Did I not pamper him or give him treats, keep our marriage varied and exciting?
I really did think I still ticked all of the boxes. Admittedly, around 12 months ago I became menopausal and that does do weird things to a woman's body and mind but I had made him aware of that so he could make allowances for me.
As for the pampering and treats, perhaps the ways my body was changing so pissed me off that I neglected to shower him with as much regular affection of late, but frankly, he'd become a bit of a bore in bed so I guess I hadn't tried as much either. Only after Brian dropped his bombshell did I realise that he'd been neglecting my needs for months. He was getting his sexual fill from
her
at least three times a week.
It wasn't just the end of my periods – there's a godsend – but I had these hot flushes, and my sleep patterns had changed ... I would lay awake in bed most nights. I could even see in myself that I became irritable and the smallest things set me off. I wasn't immediately conscious of the mood swings but the kids spent a bit of time with me in the initial few weeks after Brian walked out and they pointed out my moodiness. If I was moody, I thought it was from his leaving me ... maybe it was like the chicken and the egg – which came first?
Where did he find this blonde chick? Well, we both met her at a neighbourhood party about two years ago. Unbeknown to me, they began a clandestine relationship behind my back. Apparently, his initial intention was to have her as his fun diversion on the side, getting a frantic sexual workout (his words when he confessed all to me) for a couple of hours about three times every week. No wonder I hadn't seen all that much of his cock recently.
But, he explained to me, Ms. Bimbo wasn't content with being a married man's mistress at 29, so 6 months ago, she began turning the screws, exerting massive pressure on him to leave me to partner with her on a permanent basis. Methinks she might have withheld sexual favours until he got to see things her way.
So, four months ago, on a casual rainy Sunday afternoon at home (the unexpected occasion is vividly imprinted in my brain now), he broke the news to me that our marriage was over and that he would be moving out of our family home before the end of the month.
My tears flowed for days on end, I was shattered, never saw it coming, Suddenly my world – menopausal and all – came crashing down. Both of our kids had only chosen to move out in the months before Brian checked out. Abruptly, I found myself living alone in a big four-bedroom house in the burbs, self-analysing how I might have contributed to the end of my marriage.
Fortunately, I had this network of women friends and they rallied around me, taking turns to keep me occupied, inviting me for lunches and movies. But most are still married themselves so a lot of my outings with them were daytime and it's the night-time when I am most lonely, when I could do with some company. Some did still invite me to their dinner parties, that Brian and I had previously enjoyed over the years, but now coming single, I felt like the odd one out.
A few weeks ago, a bunch of my good friends suggested this night out with them all – well, about seven actually - as a group outing, all these married women and I out on the town. If they had told me upfront where we were going, I might have said no from the start. We all met at the organiser, Lisa's house, got a little boozed to start. They had insisted that I should leave the safety of my home – at night, would you believe – and go see a live show.
I had not been near a nightclub since the kids were very young and I still had my parents around to babysit for Brian and I. So, what does that make it? Oh, I'm guessing about seventeen years.
Has the culture changed, have the younger generation created new rules of decency? These women who dragged me out of the comfort of my now quite lonely home are still married, they left husbands at home for the night. I watched their behaviour, how some of them flirted with a bunch of guys at adjoining tables in the late-night club. I began to wonder whether this was really all about me ... or them, using me as an excuse for them to get a leave pass from the confines of wedded bliss for one night.
But hold on, I am getting ahead of myself in beginning to talk about the club that we all gravitated to after the live show. You see, I wasn't told that the live show was a male strip show for a screaming all-women audience. But not a professional group show like the Chippendales or Thunder from Down Under that you'd see in Las Vegas.
This show was in a private room in a function centre. It soon became obvious that we were about to be exposed to more than obvious bulges of masculinity concealed within tiny jocks. The first young guy did his initial act, completing it by leaving us all to imagine what his cock and balls might look like.
But the second guy – a tall well-muscled black man – quickly had his become erect and it strained the elastic of his tiny g-string to near breaking point. He epitomised the stereotype of the BBC and with his forays to the front of the stage, it was probably inevitable that a woman would reach up, grasp the tiny jock and yank it down to expose this monstrous black shaft that, now freed, stretched a long way out in front of him.
I was stunned. I mean, I've been around. I may have been married to Brian for 22 monogamous years, but before we met, I dated and was sexually active with about five or six guys (not all at the same time) from toward the end of high school until I met Brian at the age of 25. Their cocks came in a variety of shapes and sizes but none were of such unique proportions as this one that bounced around as close as three feet in front of me ... almost at touching distance.
You see, Lisa had proudly and confidently steered us to a table right in front of the stage. I began to worry whether this show could get out of hand since it appeared to be a special function and not a regular nightly or weekly performance. Would one of the guys drag a timid unsuspecting woman from the audience and subject her to an embarrassing five minutes in front of everyone? Well, almost!
While the loud music played - naturally Joe Cocker's 'Leave Your Hat On' – this black guy invited an eager white woman up on stage. She looked to be in her forties. He grabbed a chair from the back of the stage, sat in it himself, his long wide black appendage glistening under the stage lights and he had her back up, her legs wide, straddling him as he sat, and he lowered her so that her crotch sat on his rock-hard erection. Only a pair of flimsy pink panties appeared to separate her spread pussy from contact with the skin of his shaft ... she would be feeling his heat.
