[FF] I’m a 42 year old late bloomer who recently slept with a woman for the first time – pt. deux

Here’s a link to part one of my sapphic safari:

[https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8z8niq/ff_im_42_a_late_bloomer_and_just_had_sex_with_a/](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8z8niq/ff_im_42_a_late_bloomer_and_just_had_sex_with_a/)

Sorry it took me so long to get around to part 2. Work has been unexpectedly, unrepentantly awful this week, and I haven’t had the energy to masturbate, let alone stay up late, chronicling my smutty experiences.

So, when we last saw our heroine, she was in the throes of a rump-shaking orgasm from the oral attention of an ultra-sexy, much younger, boi. After the shudders subsided, and the alternating waves of heat and electricity slowed to a manageable pulse, I could barely move. It wasn’t a physical paralysis, of course, but a deeply emotional one. Imagine the following experience: you go to Disneyland as an adult for the first time, your first ride is the Matterhorn, the evening fireworks display is going on, and when you get to the peak of the mountain and exit the cave (post-Yeti jump-scare), a wall of undulating color erupts in the sky ahead of you, bathing you in warm, radiant light. At the same time, everyone you’ve ever loved and who’s ever had your best interest at heart is floating in a line, just to the left of the tracks, beaming and clapping for you. Oh yeah, and Pennywise the dancing clown is chasing your car down the tracks, screeching “We all float down here!” Now, add a few shots of Five-Hour Energy, a quaalude, and ratchet the intensity up to 11. You have some idea of how I was feeling.

I remember clutching the bedsheets, sighing, ejaculating an unexpected laugh, and then sort of sobbing for a moment. I felt like a broken robot, and I turned my head to try and bury my embarrassment in the covers. I think I apologized and muttered something mortifying and self-effacing, but when I looked up, Abby met my gaze, grinning and shaking her head slightly. “You never have to apologize for feeling authentically,” she whispered. It seemed a little clinical, but also super reassuring, and I let myself be lost in the moment, if only briefly.

Now remember, I’m a mom, and I’m the care-giving type. My husband has teased me before that I would defer taking a shit for a couple of days if doing so would make someone else’s life a little easier. At that moment, I felt something bordering on shame for being the only one riding the wave of the big O. Abby was also still completely clothed. I reached for the buttons on her flannel without grace, and asked, “Can I make you feel good, too?” (I know – I’m not exactly Shakespeare in bed). Abby’s eye that wasn’t covered by a raft of ebony hair danced in my direction, and its owner replied, “You ARE making me feel good, but you’re not done yet.” At this point, even though I had 20 years and easily 20 pounds on her, I knew it was silly to object. She grasped my hands, which were, at this point, lamely resting on her chest, gave them a light squeeze, and raised them to her lips, kissing each palm. “Turn over, hon,” she cooed. Even though I had no idea what was coming, and even though I barely had the gross motor skills to flop over on my belly, I complied.

For a long moment, I lay on my stomach, hyper aware of the weight of my body, the cadence of my breath, the rippling of my heart, and the feel of the downy coverlet rubbing against my thighs, nipples, and sex. She wasn’t touching me, wasn’t speaking, wasn’t doing anything as far as I could tell. I had these terrible momentary thoughts that she was either snapping pictures of me to post online or else that she had abandoned me in favor of a more interesting conquest. Then, I heard a wooden drawer clatter open and closed, followed by plastic click. Seconds later a single drop of icy liquid landed in the valley at the small of my back, followed by a few more, then a ribbon-like rivulet tracing my spine. Her hands were on my soon thereafter.

A quick word about hands: I love them. I’ve always been a gesticulator, and my eyes tend to be drawn to the hands of others. They can convey strength, aggression, vulnerability, and a whole host of other non-verbal cues to about personality and emotion. Abby’s hands were tiny, with tapered fingers, roughshod, unmanicured nails, and a nonchalant musculature that echoed that in the rest of her body. When she laid them on my shoulders for the first time, squeezing at first, and then pressing her palms in to luxuriant circles down the length of my back, my first thought was, “OK – bitch done stepped out and brought a biker in to give me a rubdown.” Her touch was firm, forceful, targeted, but undeniably caring. She worked the now-warm oil in to my skin in long, confident strokes, and it was as though my ribs spread, my body opened to receive her touch, and relaxation enveloped me.

At the same time, I felt her lean in close, her breath hot and moist on the nape of my neck. She began kissing me delicately – first on my neck, then my shoulder blades, then over my right flank. Goosebumps rose across my back and arms, and I moansighed. There was something else there, too, though. Abby had clearly taken off her shirt before starting the massage, because I felt her nipples press in to my lower back (and, soon after, my ass). They were thick and pronounced, and seemed slightly mismatched with her dainty breasts, but God, they felt amazing, and they were making me shudder, maybe even more than the massage itself, especially when she pressed her torso against me and the soft, taught flesh of her breasts rubbed against me.

I felt like I should say something at this point, if only to express my gratitude, and I began to moan, “Oh God, Abby, than–” “Shhhhhhhhh,” she whispered, vibrating her lips against the small of my back. It was then that I realized her lips were almost on my ass, and then they were, kissing each cheek, leaving the occasional light nibble in a kiss’s wake. Her fingernails snaked down from my back to caress my posterior. Moments later, her hands slid down to my upper thigh, spreading my legs apart slightly, and partially hoisting my ass, as if to lift me.

I was not prepared for what came next. Almost without warning, her nose and mouth dove between my cheeks, and I felt her tongue begin to lap hungrily at my anus. Involuntarily, I think I blurted out something like, “Whhaaaaa?” and tried to crane my neck to see what was happening, which of course was ridiculous. I’m super sex-positive, and I’ve spent many an evening on /r/dirtypenpals writing about sex that would make you blush, but my only real-life experience with butt stuff was painful, perfunctory, and poor. Hell, I’m so lame that it never even occurred to me that lesbians engaged in any sort of assplay. I had serious reservations, not out of any kind of moral objection, but more because I was self-conscious about that part of my body. My concerns faded to nothingness, though, as the flat of Abby’s tongue massaged my hole, sending tingles through a part of my body I never thought possible. I must have kept tightening up, because ever so often, she would have to work my cheeks apart again.

After tossing my salad with abandon for some time and undoubtedly being amused with the way I squirmed, she rose off my ass, propped herself up on one arm, and drew her right hand up my inner thigh until her index and middle fingers were firmly circling my clit. She moved to straddle my left leg and leaned back in to whisper, “I think you’re ready. You can turn back over now.” As she did so, I realized two things: 1. Her shirt was not the only thing she had removed and 2. She was gloriously, proudly, and completely hirsute. I’m not sure which of those realizations turned me on more, but they certainly gave each other a run for their money.

Once again, I’ve gone far longer than I intended, and I’ve still got homework to check and other household exigencies to deal with before bed. Part 3, which I imagine will be the finale, soon!

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/902dtd/ff_im_a_42_year_old_late_bloomer_who_recently