Gillian sighed to herself as she sat quietly in her dining room that morning, reflecting on how her life was going. Her fingers resting pensively over the brown paper bag on the table on front of her. She was around 43, but at first glance she looked younger. Sylphlike, almost willowy, from behind, she appeared girlish, dark straight hair drawn into a ponytail, usually held by an elastic hair band, though sometimes something more decorative. The hair hung down to the middle of her back, sleek, shiny, and thick. A round sweet face, she had a small turned up nose, slightly pinched chin and lips, pale skin, large but sad grey eyes, she was slim, and short, around 5'2", light, but with a good figure.
She was very pretty when she was younger, small, and light, her clear skinned face framed by her chestnut brown hair. Her bottom was firm, and shapely, good well shaped and muscled legs. Her breasts were small, but very nicely formed, with long pointed nipples. They had been pink before she'd had her children, but they were now a sort of dark rose, almost brown, still firm and eye catching. She knew now that she was more mature, initially she was found to be attractive by men, but only until they got close to her, and saw the lines on her face, particularly around her eyes and mouth.
Drinking a glass of wine occasionally while at the dining room table over the years, she had frequently felt the loneliness of a woman with no male companionship or physical connection. She had attempted to enter the dating scene, but did not find the experience fulfilling, tiring quickly of the falseness and almost crude behaviour of the few men she'd dated, none of them taking her out for a second time. She had slowly become a difficult character, occasionally lacking patience with other people and sometimes feeling very bitter. Resulting in most men giving her a wide berth, she effectively gave up on any idea of finding someone else.
Gillian had admitted to herself that she missed sex, that feeling of closeness with another human. The blood rushing experience of intercourse and the feeling of a man's body, held tightly in her arms. There were very few male teachers with whom she worked, but none of them appealed to her. The people at her yoga classes and her gym, didn't spark any interest from her either. Some of them arrogant and entitled, most, like her just there to keep trim and fit. There were several women who she was friendly with, and who had expressed an interest in her, but Gillian wasn't that way inclined, she didn't mind lesbians but wasn't interested in becoming one herself.
She took good care of herself, staying scrupulously clean, showering regularly, looking after her teeth. Using good quality skin and body moisturiser, night creams, face packs, and general good quality body care products. She exercised regularly, mostly yoga, or running treadmills at the local gym. She had tried running in the neighbourhood, but she found herself unnerved by the whistles and catcalls from groups of me, who often hung around the street corners, or the toots from car horns as she ran along the pavements. The local park was no better, full of shady characters and groups of down and outs, drinking alcohol and generally bringing the tone of the area down.
From time to time, she would stand in front of her mirror, inspecting her body, it was nice, trim and clearly fit. Once or twice while examining her appearance using the full-length looking glass, she'd forgotten to pull the drapes, and had realised with a start that a man had stood outside on the pavement, looking up at her. Nevertheless, her pubic area wasn't too bad, despite having had two children. A bit full in her vulva, her inner labia, though dark, slightly larger and a little loose, it hadn't become ragged and looked attractive enough. She certainly wasn't ashamed or embarrassed by how it looked. Her lack of sexual activity added with her yoga practice, had tightened her considerably. Her pubic mound was plump and well developed, she made a habit of keeping her bush neatly trimmed into a dark, slightly curly triangle. She had quite a lovely clitoris down there, which was nicely shaped, slightly curved downward, not too large, but noticeable when erect, looking reddish pink on those occasions when she managed to coax it out from under its sheath.
She was quite proud of it, but her best feature was her legs. Well proportioned, strong muscled thighs, with firm rounded calves and slim ankles. Conscious that they attracted attention, she tried to wear clothes that reduced their visual effect. Particularly when at work, there was one fellow teacher, she thought him a bit of a creepy man, who always tried to position himself in the staff room so he could look up her clothes. Accordingly, she wore heavy dresses or skirts, usually tweed or wool, sometimes heavy cotton poplin. Plain body shaping support underwear, and tights (pantyhose for American readers). Then, confident that there was little visible, (having checked at home when she chose her daily work outfits), other than a vague view of her knickers through the nylon net of her tights. So, she would cross her legs, and completely ignore his staring at her, being sure of her own privacy. Although she noticed that if she wore black tights, with light coloured panties, his eyes would widen noticeably, and fix on her skirts, oddly, she was amused by that, and often subtly allowed him more of an unrestricted view.
Enjoying dressing in a chic and stylish manner, dresses, with skirts, slips nice undies, all helped her to retain her femininity. She loved the feel of her clothes against her body, and the way it made her feel feminine. Occasionally she wore trousers or slacks, now and again jeans. When visiting the gym, or taking yoga classes she wore shorts or leggings, with a tee shirt, or heavy sweatshirt. Knowing that the clingy material of the leggings would vividly highlight the assets at her crotch, often pulling into her cleft. She accepted and tolerated that starkly revealing consequence in order to exercise freely.
Of course, age had taken its effect, and although she went to the gym, there was a little flabbiness in her upper arms, and no matter how much moisturiser she used, and a few age spots on her skin. Of course there were the stretch marks on her tummy, and behind, with some slight sagging. Though up to now, no cellulite, due mostly to the genetics inherited from her mother more than anything she did to prevent it. Her neck was smooth without wrinkles, her hands still looked good, though sometimes red and chapped by the hot water when washing up. The fine lines at the corner of her eyes, weren't that bad, but she did accept that she needed to use regular skin lotions to tighten her features up.
She rarely masturbated, and then only using her fingers, usually in her bathroom, dimly lit by low output globe lights, while she soaked in a nice warm scented bath. She had looked at the various toys and physical aids on sale, but didn't like either the look, or thought of any of them. So, she would luxuriate in the warm water, gently rubbing and stroking her genitals, until she felt the soft but satisfying release as she achieved mild climax. It wasn't the same as sex, but it seemed to do for the moments when she had the overwhelming urge. Occasionally if the urgency was really demanding, she used the handset on her power shower, achieving release after a few minutes of her vulva being pummelled by the forceful pulsing jet of water. Though she wasn't sexually active at all, she continued to take her birth control pills, just in case, but mainly to keep her periods comfortable for as long as possible before her eventual oncoming menopause.
She'd had increasingly vivid dreams, where she had experienced sexual arousal, mostly involving faceless men, who usually seemed to take her roughly in various physical positions, filling her, making her quiver with repressed feelings, waking her, thrilled, aroused, wet, but ultimately disappointed to find that she was yet again still alone in her empty marriage bed.
She had been married for around 10 years. Her ex-husband, Jerry, had been abusive and loutish towards her, so they had separated, and eventually divorced after she discovered that he'd been involved in several affairs, and his level of infidelity meant there had also been a lot of one-night stands. Her trust shattered, she'd withdrawn from everyday social life. She often wondered what she'd seen in him, having met after graduation, and attending teacher training college, he'd met her in a café, and had been working in a local insurance broker. He'd asked her out, and it just seemed that they drifted along together, marrying a year later. Her life had been humdrum, and a bit frustrating until she had her first baby, giving her a reason to be alive. Now, focusing instead on her work as a teacher in a primary school and providing a stable family environment to bring up her two sons.
She'd borne the two boys by her husband, Jerry. Peter, the eldest was 21, with his younger brother Hugh who was 19. They had stayed with their mother, as her husband Jake, had treated them badly as well, often flying into quite violent tirades, and not shy about using his fists on them. They were relieved when as small boys, he'd left the house, and their lives became happy and enjoyable.
