Private Self Ch 01

Chapter 1

On a sunny Saturday afternoon in June, I wash the dishes in the sink and look at the bright scene outside the window in front of me. At the side of the house, in between the house and the neighbour's brown wooden fence, is the driveway to our detached garage where Rhys is playing basketball with his friend. I know his friend from many previous visits, and the sports teams they used to play together in high school. We haven't seen Ryan in a while though, and not very often since they graduated two years ago. I hadn't met a lot of Rhys' university friends. Except for his girlfriend, who is nice enough, if not a little...silly. Or maybe I make her nervous, I don't know.

I doubt it. Intimidating is not how I'd describe myself. Colleagues tell me often how I'm always smiling, and happy. I suppose I am, but my public self is different from what I show my close friends, family, or my private self. Rhys, however, has always been shyer, more careful with people. Growing up in a house full of extreme extroverts, he can be very social with friends, but still he has an inward-ness that I only have when I'm by myself.

As the boys play a friendly, relaxed game, I watch them but not paying attention to the game itself. They are quick and athletic, a picture of healthy youthfulness. I sigh. I envy their youth. I wish I had appreciated my own beauty when I was their age, but instead I had fretted about my looks, sought approval from men and women, measured my worth by my ability to attract. I guess I was silly, too, and I remind myself to be more compassionate to Rhys' girlfriend.

I wonder, not for the first time, at the changes in just 2 years. Rhys is more confident, happier. I think he's found his people at school. He really is so handsome, I think, as I watch him brush his hair from his eyes. He is Eurasian; the Asian part is from me, his Chinese mum. In ethnicity only. I have never been to China, and don't speak Cantonese. Well, only Yum Cha dishes, which both of us love. He's so tall, over 6 feet, which he reached in high school. I'm pretty tall too at 5'9", for a Chinese woman.

His height really comes from his Dad's side of giants. His father and I separated, then divorced 3 years ago. We were so young when we had children, and then married, reverse order of the conventional way. It took me a long time to get used to not having a partner. It was heart breaking, but best for both of us. We separated in a remarkably amiable way; we kept our shared friends, have family dinners together. Both of us are not the type of person to be bitter, or blaming, or spiteful like I've seen happen with other separated couples. I like to think we are much more emotionally intelligent than that. The kids were crushed at first, but they adapted quickly, and now that they are adults, they spend so much time away from home anyway. My daughter, a year younger than Ryhs, moved out about a year ago. Like me, she was always extroverted and independent, friendly and gregarious. She was busting to have her own place with a couple friends. Rhys still lives at home, while he is studying. So, it's just Rhys and I in our cosy house.

The window is open, so I can hear their sporty banter through the screen. Rhys is talking about some computer or gaming something, and I tune out the chatter. Having finished the dishes, I grab a wet cloth to wipe down sink and counter. Ryan, the same age as my son, is a different type of boy. Well...man. He's more self-assured, cocky even. "Hey, Mrs. C. ", he had greeted me when they had come in for a glass of water. It's Ms. C. but I didn't bother to correct him. When I looked at him to say hello, he gave a cheeky wink and leaned on the kitchen island. I had laughed and shook my head.

He's changed, too. He is much more...filled out. He used to be skinny, but now he's...ripped. Ryan gracefully weaves around the driveway, ducking out of the way of Rhys. Guiltless, I soak in what is a fine specimen of the male form. Not quite as tall as Rhys, Ryan is lean and toned. His thick dark brown hair is wavy, longer on top and falls in shiny locks. Thick brows framing brown eyes with long lashes; he could easily be in a boyband. Beautiful nose, full lips. His face has a softness to it still. I just love his skin, it's always been smooth and unblemished as far as I have seen, I don't even think he can grow a beard if he wanted to. He's a warm tan kind of brown, and I know that it comes from his mixed heritage of Cree and Scottish, because I had asked once. What a beautiful combination. As he tries to block Rhys' path to the hoop, I admire the symmetry of his features, and attractive lines of his neck, disappearing into his t-shirt. His sport shorts don't flatter much, but his calves are the same earthy brown. Lithe and lean and hairless. I wonder if he has any chest hair. I am suddenly aware of my sexual parts, and my inside muscles clench slightly. I suck in my breath and breath out slowly.

I need to be by myself, with my private self. I turn from the kitchen, through the small living area, and up the stairs to my bedroom. I flop on my bed, frustrated. Dry spell would be an underestimation, it's been a drought. Now that I am single, and kids grown, I've had a lot of time to myself. I bought myself a couple sex toys and began watching porn, which is a lot easier to find porn than in the old days of VHS. If I was this horny, I would have to look for personal ads in the paper. Nowadays, it's possible to meet perverts from all over the world just by using your smartphone. I learned of kinks I didn't even know I had. Once I started chatting, one thing led to another and I fell down a rabbit hole of debauchery.

I certainly wasn't a virgin at 23 when I met my ex-husband. I had plenty of years to experiment before that. I had seduced one man by showing up the door in lace lingerie under a long leather coat. I had tried mild bondage and being a novice dominatrix. I had looked great in PVC and fuck me boots, but I'm not sure I am a Dominant, because I think I enjoy being Sub more. I am a blowjob boss - not to say that I was the best, but I took that business seriously. I've had a lot of sex with a lot of different people - both men and women. I've tried the odd threesome, a few anal adventures, sex with strangers, and the big black cock. Mmmm. See! I am depraved!

I think I'm pretty perverted. I have the same feeling that I had in my early 20's, when I was wild. I liked the feeling then, and I like it now. And that feeling is horny. All the time. I find my hands are slowly making their way down my stomach by themselves, just thinking about my past adventures. I focus on the sensations my fingers are making as I slip my right hand into my panties. I run my middle finger down, then up my inner lips. I inhale fast at the sudden sensation. I keep doing that motion until I begin to do it unconsciously. I'm wet as usual.

I try to breath slowly. This is what I'm like when I'm alone. This is the new normal for me. I want to smoke a joint, so I can really relax, and masturbate. Probably not a good idea in the middle of the day with the boys around. Rhys doesn't know I smoke weed. He'd be shocked. My fingers search for the sweet spot around my clitoris. Circles, then up and down. My mind goes to sexy images, real and imagined.

I have had sex one time in 4 years. That was last week. Last Friday night, Rhys had gone out with his girlfriend and a group of friends and wasn't expected until the next day. Mike lived in another city, so he drove 3 hours to a nice hotel in my city. I had been chatting with Mike for a few months. I had sincerely enjoyed our sexting and mutual masturbation: we really got into the role playing - which is literally a mind fuck. I like him, he's honest and he lets me lead so that I feel safe. I decided I trusted him enough to meet him, and I wanted to take the opportunity for a night out with no risk of prying questions from Rhys. Mike isn't exactly as I imagined him, but I like him in person. I was correct in thinking he is a respectful and giving man, and he didn't lie about his thick cock. I like his big paws all over me, I feel small and feminine. I like his ability to use dirty language and mean it. Most of all, I like how he can perform cunnilingus like a pro for extended periods of time, and more than once. We had a lot of sex. And we fucked until the early hours, and then fell asleep together. And cheerfully, we both said goodbye. No strings. Thanks, Mike.

Thinking about that night has got me more aroused. My labia and clit are swollen and more sensitive, puffy to the touch. I can feel an urge rising, an ache right between my legs. I use my palm and grab my whole pussy with hard pressure and start to rub, hard and fast. My thighs tremble. I grab my favourite vibrator from my bedside table drawer because I want to come NOW. I press the button 3 times for the fastest, hardest speed and put it carefully near my clit. It makes my stomach muscles tighten, and I crunch in a little. I start to circle the two soft vibrating prongs around my clit, but not on it. I make a noise, not exactly a moan, more like a long wordless plea. The sensations are excruciatingly pleasurable and maddening, bordering on pain. And now, I imagine Ryan fucking me urgently from behind as I bend at the waist using a bedpost for balance. Then I imagine his gorgeous face between my thighs, licking my pussy like it's melting ice cream. Then in my mind, again he's thrusting in me from behind, but this time on my knees. He leans into my ear and says in a low voice, "Mrs. C, I love fucking your pussy...God, you're so hot...I love your pussy...I love your pussy...I'm gonna cum in your pussy!" And I feel his cock grow and stretch me tighter, and I beg "Please cum in my pussy...." And in my head, Ryan holds his orgasm just before I'm about to. "Hughhhh", I groan, as sweet warmth and release of tension washes over my body; a slow spread from my centre to extremities. I immediately sigh and feeling contented, I rest my head on my pillow and close my eyes.

"Mum!", Rhys calls from downstairs. "Mum?"