Sometimes, people do things they never thought they were capable of. For instance, once in a while, you'd come across stories of people taking up alternative lifestyles or having sex with the same gender at later stages of their lives. Something of this sort happened to me, too.
During the early years of my life, I never gave any serious thought to my appearance or my body. I was more interested in creativity. In school, I was into sports, especially lawn tennis, and without sounding arrogant, I was pretty good at it.
In my teens, I landed a job at one of the biggest radio stations, which was like a dream come true. The work there was not only exciting but also fulfilling. But I was so ambitious that instead of being satisfied with that, I also took up photography with the same passion.
With so much happening in my life, I hardly had any time to flirt, go out with boys, or even think about them. This doesn't mean I didn't notice boys and men trying to flirt with me, which did make me feel good about myself. By my late teens, I had a clear career goal, and this gave me time to notice other things in life. One was my younger brother's not-so-secret affair with a girl.
When he was eighteen or so, James started going out with Anne who was good-looking in her own way but since my brother is really handsome -- he used to be a model -- she wasn't the perfect match. During their affair, they used to write letters to each other and I used to secretly read them. James's letters weren't that explicit, which was surprising, but Anne's were, very much.
She used to describe everything in detail: how he kissed her, how he held her, how her nipples became hard when he touched her breasts, how much she enjoyed touching his cock, and what she felt when he forced her to suck his balls. Initially, I used to get embarrassed but slowly started enjoying them. Of course, he didn't know that I was reading them.
As I read more, and as the details grew more explicit, I too started to feel an urge all over my body. By that time, I knew I had a beautiful face, with big dark eyes and full red lips, complemented by a pretty big pair of breasts and well-developed thighs.
By the time I turned eighteen, I had not only learned that James loved feeling and sucking Anne's breasts but also the positions he enjoyed (her riding him was his favorite). After reading the details of their love-making sessions, I started to look at him differently.
Sometimes I would give him an I-know-what-you-have-been-up-to look, sometime I would laugh on seeing him and sometimes my eyes would wander off to his cock hiding under jeans. All this left him pretty confused. During that time I was pretty close to a cousin of mine who was older than me and experienced in these matters.
Initially, I wanted to tell her about James's affair but then changed my mind and decided that it would be only my secret. But my cousin did talk about her experiences and she was the one who told me how things happen, what are the sensitive points and what guys enjoy the most.
She told me everything in such a way that sex began to sound exciting and beautiful. It was then I realized that I had a sensual body, a gift that was waiting to be opened, to be explored and experienced. But fate had something else stored for me.
Although I was making a name for myself in the cut-throat world of radio programming, I fell in love with the wrong man at nineteen and married him within a week of meeting him. On our first night, I was expecting long sensual kisses, tight passionate hugs and to slowly make love, but it turned out to be anything but that.
All Harry did was take my clothes off, spread my legs, and shove his thing in as hard as he could, and within seconds he came and rolled off me as I lay there. To say that I was disgusted is putting it mildly but then I thought maybe things would improve, but he never tried to learn or improve.
Then I got pregnant and gave birth to Dan and with that our love life, or whatever it was, became more infrequent and boring.
To somehow keep myself sane, I started spending hours chatting online with James and old friends. I knew chatting with them was not going to help, especially when I was in no mood to share my misery with any of them, but it was just an attempt to keep my thoughts occupied. During these chat sessions, James and a couple of my friends did guess that I was unhappy but since I refused to admit or reveal anything they decided not to mention it and tried to cheer me up by telling all kinds of stories and incidents.
My brother, with whom I was always close and whose intimate letters I had read years ago, took the lead and started telling me funny stories from his school and college days and some of them really cracked me up. Then we moved on to more personal stories, after all, there is a limit to school and college talk, and we started discussing his numerous crushes and flirting.
Slowly he started to open up, which I think he did just to keep my mind wandering off to my pathetic life, and we started talking about girls and boys and his then-girlfriend and now wife.
One day while chatting I told him I had again started going to the gym.
"You've always had a good body."
I smiled and thanked him for the compliment.
We continued talking about other things and a couple of days later he said I was looking beautiful, which caught me off guard because he had never complimented on my clothes.
I replied that I wasn't wearing anything special: Just a white T-shirt (although it was a bit tight, so was revealing the roundness of my big breasts).
"Well, you're looking lovely."
I didn't attach any other meaning to his remark and continued talking to him. That day later in the night he text messaged me and asked whether I could come online and since Harry and Dan were sleeping, I replied yes and sat down to chat with him.
As soon as I sat down in front of the webcam, he asked me to put on that T-shirt again.
"Why?" I said, surprised at his request.
"Because you look more beautiful in that than in this nightgown."
I wasn't in the mood to change but he insisted so much that I finally relented and went back to the bedroom and changed into that T-shirt and shorts.
As soon as he saw me, he smiled and thanked me.
We started chatting and I asked him why wasn't he with his wife Anne instead of chatting with me.
"You're a much better company, Candice."
"I'll tell her that tomorrow," I replied, jokingly.
We continued talking about this and that when suddenly in the middle of the conversation he asked me to stand up.
"Why?"
"Because I haven't seen you for a while and want to see how much weight you've gained."
I wasn't in a mood to obey that request, so told him to shut up and keep chatting, at which he made a face and started talking again but kept asking me to stand up -- a request I ignored.
Some days later we were again talking and he asked me how the gym was going.
"I'm going every day, but my body's still not that toned up."
"You're much more beautiful than most women, especially Anne."
"She's beautiful."
"She looks lovely because she does all sorts of things, which is why she looks good."
I asked him what kind of things.
"You know, lots of make-up, all sorts of therapies, exercises, padding, etc."
Now, I never thought she padded her bra or that my brother would ever say that, and I should have ended the conversation there but was intrigued, so said: "No, she's all natural; I don't think she pads."
"She does, always has."
"She should be proud of what she has and you should tell her that she looks lovely without so much make-up or padding," I added.
"I want to say something, but don't get angry?"
"OK, tell me."
"I like them big, like yours."
"Shut up," I said, smiling at my younger brother's confession.
