Getting My Groove Back – Chapter 1 [F] 36 [M] 26

“I don’t love you anymore.”

I should have seen it coming in the little things that had slowly disappeared over the last year. The “I’m thinking about you in the most salacious way,” texts had stopped. So had the cards he sent me on the anniversaries of important events in our relationship. There were no more impetuous ass-pinches and I realized he had stopped looking me up and down as I circled our bed in the evenings.

The sex changed, too. He was a talker, always describing what he was feeling as he fucked me. When it became a silent, mechanical ritual, I should have known.

He was getting his love from someone else.

And now his gentle deflections whenever I wanted to talk about having kids made sense.

“There’s another woman, isn’t there.”

He was too tired to lie.

“Yes.”

“How long.”

“A long time. I’m sorry. I should have told you much sooner.”

I thought about how the work travel had increased with his promotion and wondered how many of his extended absences were spent with her, whoever “her” was.

“And you want to be with her.”

“Yes.”

That was that. The split was relatively amicable. The fact that he so quickly gave up half of his fortune and agreed to liberal monthly support should have told me something.

Naturally, I learned the one most painful detail from a girlfriend.

His lover was pregnant.

“How do I rebuild a life when so much of it centered around him?” I asked my psychiatrist.

“You’ll have to do it in your own way and in your own time. You are a human being of great value. Rediscovering that person is your new quest.”

A “human being”. Not “a woman”. How clinical. And reinventing myself in my own way. What did that mean?

She offered me drugs to numb the anxiety and depression I felt. I didn’t want them.

What I wanted the most was to be desired. My craving for physical affirmation became overpowering.

I stood, looking at my naked body in a bathroom mirror of a house that soon would no longer be mine. Of course, I could only see the imperfections. I had filled out during my marriage. A paunch in my belly that my friends said they couldn’t see looked like the start of the baby bump I always had longed for. A layer of fat was beginning to hide the subtle curve of my hips and my ass was no longer the round, inviting target that caught the eyes of the boys I attracted in college.

The lines that were beginning to dance across my forehead were getting harder and harder to cover up with makeup. I could see dark circles under my blue eyes, signs of sleepless nights that I tried to hide with sunglasses, even when it wasn’t sunny.

The extra weight had only one upside. My tits were fuller and more appealing than the small mounds that were barely a handful for my early conquests. My soon to be ex-husband had begged me to get implants almost from day one. I was happy when nature, and perhaps some bad diet choices, did the job without the knife.

I sighed at the reflection, feeling totally dejected, defeated, demoralized.

A hand reflexively glided toward the thick brown carpet of pubic hair that protruded like a triangle of steel wool between my legs. I found what I was feeling for and began to circle it. My other hand joined in the ritual, inserting a pair of fingers into what had quickly become a soaked, glistening opening.

No amount of experimentation could take me over the top. I was stuck on the brink, helpless and hungry for an orgasm that now eluded me. I lay on the bed, my best battery powered friend in my fist, pressing its vibrations against my plaintive clit. It felt like it was begging to come.

But I couldn’t find satisfaction.

I needed a man.

My self-worth became connected to having a pulsating cock pounding me. I hungered for the taste of a man’s ejaculate on my tongue. I dreamt about the slurping sounds of male lips sucking my tits with abandon until the raging hormones within me conspired to drip out the slightest taste of what might, one day be my own milk.

* * *

I decided that the only way I would heal was to fuck my way back to self-confidence.

I invested a piece of the divorce settlement in a condo and discovered that my real estate sale skills were still marketable. In about six months, I had a career, a new home and had reinstated my maiden name, Cassandra Bronte on my business cards. I hired a personal trainer to re-sculpt my body, discovering, to my satisfaction, that even as I thinned out, my tits retained their thrusting firmness and bulk. With a regular exercise regime, it seemed like the treats I allowed myself outside of my strict diet only made my breasts bigger.

But that might have all been part of the hopeful mind games I was playing.

I became absorbed in the work and soon became the firm’s best producer. An obsessive when it came to details, I found ways to put deals together that no one else could. When I closed the sale of a huge apartment complex, the agent for the buyer suggested we celebrate with a drink.

I pulled together all the courage I could muster and invited him to check out my new place.

Such was my concentration on the business that I had not even focused on him until that moment.

He must have been at least a decade younger, clearly a hot shot with a future. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes. His name was Ryan. His last name was the same as his firm’s so I assumed that daddy had helped him along.

I could tell he was a gym rat, too. His triangular chest and the way his biceps pressed the edges of his tailored shirt confirmed it. His chiseled facial features made him look more mature than he was. Despite the chronological gulf between us, my starving libido started to control me.

“I’ve been around for five years,” he said as we sipped a pair of particularly strong gin martini’s I concocted, “I know all the rock stars in real estate. And this is the first time I’ve heard of you.”

“New life and a rejuvenated career,” I said, enjoying the burn as the gin tickled my throat. “I gave up my career when I got married.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So ‘new life’ means the partnership didn’t take?”

“For a long time I hoped it would. He found someone he thought was more attractive. Got her pregnant and decided to ‘trade up’.”

“That was a huge mistake,” Ryan said. “I don’t mean this to sound forward, but he has no idea what he’s lost.”

I realized I was blushing. “Thank you for that. I’ve lost a lot of self-confidence as a result. Haven’t been brave enough to deal with the craziness of the dating scene yet.”

“Well, when you do dive in, you won’t have any trouble hooking a man. You’re the whole package. Personality, brains and…”

Ryan hesitated. Now it was his turn to blush.

“And body,” he finally said.

Ryan was instantly apologetic. “I’m sorry, Cass. That was objectification at its worst. It must be the booze. Please forgive me.”

I tipped the martini glass, downing the last of my drink and refilling us both from an iced cocktail shaker. The alcohol was doing its work.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate that. Not the apology part. You don’t have to apologize for saying what you feel around me. Thank you for saying the other stuff. I haven’t felt attractive in years. Just hearing a man affirm that I might still have something to offer is reassuring beyond measure.”

Ryan’s eyes took on an unusual expression that I couldn’t read. He finished his second drink in a single gulp, He put his hands on top of one another and let them drop into his lap.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

Ryan closed his eyes in an awkward squint.

“I’m beyond ok. Looking at you is having an embarrassing effect on me, Cass.”

His eyes stole a quick glance downward and I began to understand his meaning.

My thumb tickled my lower lip. I felt my arms press against my ribcage, thrusting my tits toward his gaze. None of this was thought out. It was just happening.

I couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Now that,” I said, “Is something that hasn’t happened to me in a very long time.”

“Maybe I should leave,” Ryan said, “Before I make a total fool out of myself.”

I leaned back in my chair, my thumb slowly releasing the top button of my blouse.

“I would be grateful if you stayed, Ryan. Very grateful.”

Ryan’s hands slowly parted, resting on his thighs. What they revealed was thick, long and protruding. I felt myself inhale, a combination of surprise and excitement mixing with the alcohol to create a warm feeling that sent electricity down my spine and dampened my underwear.

“You are so beautiful, Cass. But we barely know one another. And look at me. A typical male reaction to a super attractive woman. It feels disrespectful.”

I rose from the chair. My interest was clearly evident in the wetness that could be seen in the crotch of my white cotton slacks.

Ryan was obviously schooled in manners. He stood in response, which only further highlighted the bulge between his legs.

My our faces were close enough that we could smell one another’s cologne. My nipples brushed against his shirt as I flipped open another button.

“It’s no disrespect if the object of your interest approves.”

With that, I gave him a soft kiss, my lips exploring his as my fingers lightly danced across his cheeks.

“I think we can both help one another tonight, Ryan. No pressure and no commitment. But know this. I want you to fuck me. I need a man’s cock inside of me in the worst way. And I want yours. I want to lick your shaft from bottom to tip and swallow every last drop of your juices. And then I want to feel your manhood inside of my pussy, while my inner muscles surround and massage you until you lose all control and come like you’ve never come before. How about it, big boy. Feel like getting lucky?”

I was having trouble believing what had just come out of my mouth. Where did I find that soliloquy?

Ryan’s hands palpated my ass, pulling me against his throbbing bulge. Whatever propriety might have been guiding his reticence was crumbling.

“Jesus, Cass,” he gasped. “I… I… OK.”

I wrapped my fingers together behind his neck and drew his mouth to meet mine. He couldn’t help but reciprocate my probing explorations. I could feel his breathing quicken as his own desire began to grow.

Knowing we now had an understanding, I took his hand and ran ahead of him toward my bedroom. Our clothing was off in and instant, and I had him planted, spread eagle in the center of my bed. I took his substantial cock into my hands and began working it like a kid sucking a favorite lollypop. My fists stroked him in time with the pull of my lips against his tip, my tongue circling it with each downward movement.

Ryan lay stunned, his head propped on a pillow to witness the spectacle. My eyes were locked on his. I spoke an occasional “How am I doing?”, his cock still in my mouth as I said it, to make sure I was providing exactly what he wanted.

He was still too embarrassed to be direct. “How would you feel about going a little deeper?” he asked, between pants.

“Deep throating you?”

I spread my fingers wide, releasing their grip and took his whole measure down my throat. For some reason, this wasn’t on my ex-husband’s list of favorite things, but I conjured up a college memory and again felt the pure joy I associated with the skill I had worked so hard to perfect.

This must have been a first for Ryan. It was too much for him. His balls tightened as I cupped them in my hands and he began to pulse rich ropes of warm liquid into my mouth. I nursed his cock like a hungry baby, sucking every morsel and swallowing it in loud gulps that seemed to further heighten his enjoyment.

When his pulsations subsided, I sat back on my haunches, rolling the last remnants of his thick juice around on my tongue to give Ryan a full visual picture of my delight.

“Very tasty,” I said as I swallowed the last shot. “I hope you’re not a ‘one and done’ guy.”

I pressed my tits together for effect.

“These girls want some attention while you fuck me into the stratosphere.”

Ryan’s cock didn’t lose a cubic centimeter of its thickness. If anything, my performance only enhanced it. He was gaining a little self-assurance of his own, too and was very direct in communicating his wishes.

“Ride me like a stallion” he begged. “Let those exquisite tits hang above me while I suck them. Rub me as I arch up into you and watch what happens.”

I loved the feeling of power I had over this young man.

“Ahh, he finds his voice,” I said, with a laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I was sopping wet as I straddled him. Ryan held his cock ramrod straight for me as I slowly lowered myself onto it.

The feeling of, at last, being one with a man again, especially someone who was as interested in the proceedings as I was, got my adrenaline flowing. I found myself hammering the poor guy incessantly, totally forgetting his request to suck my tits.

Ryan’s eyes were wide as my breasts rolled in circles with each cycle. I groaned in ecstatic cadence with my moves. The feeling I knew so well was upon me, only this time, it didn’t stop at the brink. I came with a gush of my own juices that soaked the bed and left a glistening sheen on Ryan’s pubic hair.

The rippling vibrations inside of me must have tripped Ryan’s trigger. He arched up into me and began another round of pulsating spurts. The squirting warmth tickled me and left me giggling as a grabbed his ass to press him as deeply inside of me as I could.

Before he even finished, my pendulous breasts were floating above him. With a hand on each side of his head to balance, I swung them slowly before his eyes.

“You know, Ryan, if you suck these hard enough, you might just get something out of them.”

He needed no further encouragement. Strong masculine hands gripped my tit flesh. I could feel the delicious pull of a pair of hungry lips against my delicate nipple. The sensation was almost too much, but I wasn’t sure when I might get another chance like this and I was determined to urge him on.

“Harder, Ryan, suck the whole thing down your throat. Suck me until you unleash my mother’s milk. Suck me! Harder!”

Ryan was all about that. His pulls were so insistent and powerful and took me to the point pleasure and pain dance together.

He suddenly stopped, his mouth gaping open. A brownish white substance was on his tongue. “Are you currently nursing?” he gasped. “I got something.”

“It’s colostrum,” I said, feeling joy engulfing my spirit. “The stuff babies get before the real milk comes in. Suck the other one, too. Please suck it, Ryan! Suck it hard and deep.”

As Ryan moved to my other breast, I began to grind him again. His cock had briefly begun to relax inside of me, but the new sensations quickly pumped fresh motivation its way.

Circling my hips around to ensure that he touched every inch of my insides, I could again feel an orgasm approaching.

I began my in-and-out pounding again, careful to steady the orb that Ryan was so aggressively guzzling.

I could make out, “Oh God!” between his vigorous breastfeeding and I became determined to sense his own climax so we might come at the same time.

Years of experience in the bedroom came into play and I was able to pull it off. Ryan’s head fell back on the pillow. My tits swayed before him as he pressed his hips upward to meet my downward thrust.

We came together, a magnum opus that I had never experienced in all my years of being sexually active.

I felt real empathy for Ryan. He obviously had no idea that closing a deal this day would have led to the coital experience we both shared.

“You did great, kiddo,” I whispered, as I lowered myself into his arms. “Thank you for affirming that I still have a few things to offer.”

Ryan was at last beginning to feel comfortable around this wild woman he hardly knew.

“You have lots to offer, Cass. You are the best return on any investment I’ve ever made,” he said.

* * *

The pain and grief I felt surrounding my failed marriage was still at the front of my mind. But with this encounter, I began to see a glimmer of hope that I might be able to truly “fuck my way to healing.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gxtylk/getting_my_groove_back_chapter_1_f_36_m_26