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Tanya woke up dreaming, but the dream vanished as soon as she was awake. She sense that she was being touched all over. There was a hand—or hands—caressing her breasts, her thighs, her ass. Don’t stop, she thought, shyly. But what reason did she have to be shy, alone in her bed?
Lately, she’d started going to bed wearing only her panties. It felt new, but in a pleasurable way. Before her husband died, she was used to pajamas or long nightshirts. Even with her husband, the first man she’d had sex with, she felt some kind of decorum was in order. Now, a year after, she luxuriated in the warmth of the sheet, how the fabric felt against her body. Her nipples were hard, as if still seeking the touch of whoever was taking care of her in her dream. She began lazily caressing her nipples with her right hand and slid the left just under her panties. She liked making herself wait, of imagining how a man might take care of her. If only there were one in her bed.
Her phone buzzed, thrusting her out of her reverie. Keeping her left hand under her panties, she thumbed the phone unlocked. Thirteen notifications from the dating app, most of them from men she’d never want to hear from again. Nice tits. Do u swallow? Can I cum on your face on the first date or do you wait for the second? Her girlfriend had warned her about how men behaved on the app, but she wasn’t prepared for how raunchy and dim the vast majority of men were. She canceled the app two days after she signed up for it.
But then, a week later…she came back. She was shocked at what the men said, but there was also something thrilling about the attention. There were men—lots of men—who found her desirable. Who thought her full tits and round ass weren’t flabby but desirable, even preferable. Who saw her sweet small smile and glasses and saw an attractive woman. This was new, wholly unlike what she had long thought of herself and her body. Even if some of those guys were desperate and texted everyone, a lot of them seemed to like her for her. And a good number of them weren’t so crude.
This one, this morning, Carl, was one of them. He was her age, sweet, flirty. He said he “wasn’t looking for anything serious,” just like her. Are we still on at 10? he’d texted.
Tanya’s hand had slid deeper into her panties. She was wet already—sometimes she felt like her pussy was wet all the time, now—and she began slowly massaging her clit with a finger. She texted back: Y. Then, feeling like she hadn’t said enough, that just one letter might suggest she was being dismissive, she added a smile emoji. Except she’d clicked on the wink emoji instead. So be it, she thought to herself, and put the phone down and began to fingerfuck herself in earnest.
**
Just once. That’s what she told herself when she started what she called exploring. She wasn’t ready for a relationship, wasn’t even ready for dating. But she thought she would test out the idea that men might find her as desirable as they said. She scheduled a coffee date with one of the men from the app who wrote in complete sentences—a man ten years younger than her, barely out of college. She dressed conservatively for it, in a maxi dress. But it clung to her, and she couldn’t hide her curves. She was almost vibrating with nervousness as she drove to the coffee shop.
The young man was a little cocky, but she liked that. He asked her about how she liked the dating app, and she was vague in her answers—her last relationship had recently ended, she was excited to get back to dating. But the look on his face across the table was plainly full of desire, even lust. He was looking at her and wanting her. Amazing.
“Why don’t we sit in my car and talk?” he asked. She nodded.
Soon enough they were kissing, making out in his car in the half-empty parking lot. Somehow, without her noticing, he’d released his cock from his jeans. He guided her hand on it. She didn’t resist. His precum was leaking down his shaft. Should she have stopped him? She might have said that this was only the second samsun escort cock she’d ever touched, beside her husband’s. But staying silent, just doing this, felt so right. Or not right enough—if only he could do more in this small car of his! She stroked and stroked and he looked in her eyes until he was overpowered by her attention. Then he came, spunk oozing all over her hand, some of it landing on her dress. She took a tissue and wiped some of it off her hand, but she also licked some of the cum off. Warm and sticky—she loved how tangible desire could be, that there was evidence of it.
He wrapped up, kissed her, and after a moment it was clear he wanted her to leave. Didn’t even touch her under her skirt, though her pussy was aching for touch. It’s OK, she told herself, heading to her car. This must be the walk of shame she’d heard so much about. It was just once. She wanted to know what it was like, and now she knew.
It was strange, but nice. Surely there was more, and that it could be better.
A week later she was at a man’s apartment, sucking his cock on his couch. This time her pussy got taken care of first: He’d gotten on his knees, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties, and licked and sucked her until she came. She banished her anxiety over the thickness of her thighs, of making herself so open to somebody she’d known for two days and had spent less than an hour with in person. As she shuddered and came, she clutched his hair, putting the feel of it in her memory banks. She did the same with his cock as she sucked it—bigger than her first man’s, uncut, somehow more confident than the cock she’d stroked the week before. Just once, she thought as he came in her mouth. So much cum! Some of it spilled onto her chin. That was new too.
The months that followed were defined by more of her exploring, more of these just once situations that she came to think of as part of her life yet separate from it. Because it was just once. She let an 19-year-old man—19!—cum all over her tits just once. Just once, let a retiree fill her pussy with is cock, the second man to fill her pussy her, and melted when he told her how tight she was. She was more confident now, and the men were too. Smarter and sexier. Just once, fucked doggy style. Just once, fucked missionary style in her SUV on her lunch break from work. She felt grateful for her roomy car. She thought she smelled sex when she stepped inside it now, and she enjoyed the feeling of freedom it suggested. Some days, if she was anxious about it, she’d roll down the windows as she drove, and feeling the wind in her hair felt like freedom too.
There was no really common ground among these men, except this: She was willing to be told what to do. Happy to, even. There were so many things she’d never done before, and it was interesting to discover what each man desired from her. In bed at night, after days when she’d gone exploring, she’d replay what had happened, concentrating one what she liked most. At first she was embarrassed at how wet she got at those moments, but now she’d begun to welcome it. It was her body’s way of telling her that she was more comfortable with pleasure. That she deserved pleasure. The warmth of a thick, musky cock in her hand as she stroked it, loving the feel of it against her cheek before she began sucking it. The ease with which one partner worked his fingers deep in her pussy—her cunt, he called it, a first for her. “Fuck my cunt, please,” she said. She wanted to test the sound of that word on her lips. Nearly as much as she wanted the fucking.
**
As she pulled in the coffee shop’s parking lot, all but deserted on this Saturday morning, Tanja realized that she hadn’t really talked much about sex with Carl. Enough to know that he wanted it, of course; and she’d communicated much the same to him. (I don’t know what it is, but it’s like I’m horny all the time, she texted; he responded with a smile and devil emoji.) This was the quickest she’d ever agreed to meet somebody—one day escort samsun and maybe 20 back-and-forths. I’m fast, she thought to herself, thinking of the term her mother would use to describe women who displayed too much of their sexual selves—which is to say, showed any of their sexual selves. But the woman she was now didn’t mind being fast. It was just that she wasn’t sure with Carl what he enjoyed about sex or how far he was willing to go.
Maybe she could decide that, Tanya thought. Maybe she could tell him what to do.
So simple, but it felt like an epiphany. She’d never done that, and she could do it, she knew, just once. She checked hair in the sunshade mirror, put on more lip gloss. She moved her hips to exit the car and felt how wet she was between her legs.
She was wearing another one of her maxi dresses—gray and clinging to her full thighs and tits. She saw Carl as she stepped inside, one of the few people inside. He was as handsome as his photo suggested, which wasn’t always the case on the dating site. But Carl had all the things she liked when she saw them online—broad shoulders and thick arms, blue eyes and a strong jaw. Kissable lips. He smiled as he stood and walked to her. She drew him into a hug.
“You look like a goddess,” he said to her.
“Well,” she smiled. “I am.”
Carl seemed to like that, and offered to buy her a drink. They made small talk while waiting for their orders, but Tanya’s mind drifted to what she might like Carl to do to her. Did he have a nice cock under his jeans? How long would she need to suck it until it was just ready enough to fuck her, but not over the edge? How did she want to be fucked? She knew the back row of her SUV was comfortable enough for fucking missionary, but could she do it doggy style, really feel the thickness of his cock in her? If it was a nice one, that is. She thought she could feel him when he hugged her, a hard cock during that first hug was always a good sign…
“Tanya?”
She came back to earth. “I’m so sorry, Carl,” she said, touching his arm. Firm. “I was drifting a little bit. Got distracted. Your eyes.” Not a lie, exactly. They found a table and sat close.
“I was just asking how long you’ve been dating. Since you, well…”
“It’s OK. We don’t have to talk about that. It’s been about three months since I joined the app. How about you?”
They talked for a bit about their past relationships—the “real” ones, and the ones they found now that they were in a season where they didn’t want anything serious. They talked about the crudeness of some of the men on dating sights, and the insecurities of many of the women. Carl mentioned that after he first joined the dating site a few years ago, he “went a little crazy” with it and met a lot of women.
“How many?” Tanya asked.
Carl blushed a little. “You sure you want to hear?”
“Yes. Besides, I may have you beat.” She winked.
“You know, I might actually have to sit down and count. But since I’ve started…about 20.”
“That doesn’t sound too crazy,” she said.
“What about you?” he asked.
Now it’s my turn to blush, she thought, and almost said it. But she decided she wasn’t going to act embarrassed about chasing pleasure, about being fast, about discovery. Just once, she wouldn’t feel even a little embarrassed. “Since I’ve started, about 20. So we have a lot in common, you and I.”
“So you like it,” he said.
She reached a hand under the table and found his thigh, stroked it. “I really love it. Is that bad?”
It was a rhetorical question, a question with only one answer: It wasn’t bad at all, not when the fucking felt so good and she was discovering so much. His eyes narrowed as he took in the feel of her warm fingers on him and the forthrightness of her words. She moved her hand up his thigh and then caressed the bulge between his legs.
“Let’s go have these drinks in my car, OK?” she said. Carl nodded.
When they reached her SUV, Carl made his way to the front passenger samsun escort bayan seat, but Tanya stopped him. “Back seat, sweetie,” she said, chirping the vehicle unlocked. Her pussy was so wet.
When they’d settled in on the bench seat, they began kissing hotly. His hands were eagerly all over her—he ran his fingers through her hair, caressed her tits, clutched her full ass. Tanya delighted in all of it, running her fingers over his back and through his soft, curly hair. As he kissed her neck, he tugged down the low, loose top of her maxi dress and freed one of her tits for him. He greedily licked and suck her hard nipple.
“Bite, just a little,” she moaned, and together they began tugging up her skirt.
“Twenty, huh?” she said as he’d finally hiked her skirt up to her hips and began caressing her pussy mound over her wet panties.
“More or less,” he groaned.
“Ever fucked one of them in the back seat like this?”
“No.” Maybe he wasn’t telling the truth, but the eagerness in his voice was unmistakable.
Tanya tugged off her panties and let them slip to the floor of the backseat. Carl watched her do it, smiling. She positioned herself so that she was on all fours on the bench, presenting her ass to her new lover. Her body felt needy, lasciviously curvy, craving the attention of his hands and his cock. Soon, she felt his shaft against her ass cheeks, and she instinctually thrust her hips back. There were moments, with some men, when she wanted to go slow. But now, taking control of the situation made her want as much as possible, as soon as possible. She could tell a man he wanted his cock in her—now—and he would do it. She was almost dazed at the sense of her own power.
“Get that cock in my pussy,” she commanded.
And he did, slowly entering her and then pushing, pushing, until she felt the entire fullness of him inside her. God, his cock was thick. And she was sure she was all but bathing his cock and balls in her wetness. She clutched the headrest of the seat as he began thrusting. She’d never been fucked from behind in her car, and she loved the naughtiness of it, how deep his cock went.
She bucked against this beautiful, hard-cocked man, hard enough to rock the SUV and to worry she was going to bend the headrest off its moorings. But she also wanted to be wanton with Carl, and maybe—just once—demand more of him. Ask for more fucking out of him. She leaned into the fucking and began feeling the flowing shudder of her first orgasm overtake her. She mewed and groaned, imagining coating his cock in even more of her wetness. She loved fucking, and this man was making her feel like she was built for it.
Once the first wave of orgasms subsided, Carl groaned, the kind of telltale groan that Tanya found easy to translate now: I’m close to cumming, tell me where you want me to cum.
“Paint my ass,” Tanya said, and bucked her ass harder, the better to milk his pleasure out of him.
He pulled out of her with an obscene slick sound, and in moments had begun spraying cum all over her. How foolish of her to think that this would be like the other men, than they’d reserve their cum to just between her tits, or just on her ass, or just in her mouth. Tayna could feel his warm spunk everywhere—her ass, her thighs, her back. She sensed that some hit her hair, and when she opened her eyes she saw that there was a large milky drop of cum on the leather headrest. Tanya leaned forward and licked the cum off the headrest.
“Damn, that was amazing,” Carl said. He slumped in the back seat and exhaled. He tugged down her skirt, covering her ass again, his cum cooling against the fabric. Tanya, in her post-orgasm daze, thought it was a gentlemanly gesture. He pressed his head against her firm round ass, then kissed it.
She righted herself, kissed this new man of hers, held him.
“So,” he said.
“So,” she said.
“Does this mean we’re done?”
“It’s doesn’t have to be. You’re in my car. We could get in the front seat. I can drive you to my place. We can spend more time together. Would you like that?”
He smiled sweetly, almost relieved, as if this were a question he’d spent years waiting for a woman like her to ask him.
Soon enough, Tanya was in the driver’s seat, heading home, ready to turn just once into twice, and more.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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