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It was opening night after Hurricane Katrina at Laura’s favorite dance club. The rhythms of the French quarter took control of her hips. She sauntered around the nearly empty dance floor not caring who was watching; it was her coming out party. She’d finally broken away from the emotional ties that bound her for as long as she could remember. Earlier in the day, she went to her salon to change her hair color from red to blonde. While there, she also got a manicure, pedicure, and a make-up application. She looked stunning. Her hair was done in a punk style, make-up was perfect, nails were blood red, and she wore her favorite knee high boots under a silky dress that highlighted her curves and her ample breasts. A large eye-catching pendant designed to draw attention to her sexy cleavage completed her outfit. She was feeling sensual and committed to not allowing anyone to rain on her parade.
With hands above her head, she submitted to the beat of the music. She relished the feel of her breasts swaying to her movements. The men at the club were obviously lusting after her. The moisture between her legs intermingled with the sweat from her movements. Her nipples peaked out at the crowd as she danced the night away with her girlfriends.
Her journey to this moment in time was long and difficult. At 51 years of age, she refused to be stuck looking back on a mistake of a first marriage, and 27 years of a secure but passionless relationship with her current husband. She was committed to only looking forward.
Catholic guilt kept her trapped in a marriage that diminished her self esteem and left her feeling like she was a “problem wife.” Hurricane Katrina, on the other hand, fundamentally changed her view on herself, her marriage and indeed the rest of her life. In the midst of recreating her life after the storm, she realized time was growing short and one never knew about the future.
Laura and her family managed to get out of the 9th ward in time to secure their safety but their home was destroyed. She and her husband had only the few personal possessions they could carry as they made their way north to safety. They were numb upon returning to New Orleans to survey the devastation. She lost irreplaceable photographs; treasured remembrances from her children’s youth, and even her favorite deluxe vibrator with the clitoral stimulator. She kept it hidden from her husband and was not able to retrieve it in time.
Months after the storm, she was sitting at her computer, chatting with her new Internet friend. She tried explaining all she had been through. She loved chatting with her new friend, and typed furiously as she recounted her last night before Katrina hit.
She explained, “As the storm warnings intensified, I realized my life would be fundamentally different after this experience. I grew tired of living a passionless life. Sure, I had my career and a loving family, but I needed more.
“I married young the first time; seduced into a marriage with a man who managed to convince me that we completed each other. In retrospect, he had no idea what he was in for in when he committed to a life with me. You see, I have always been a very lively girl; bringing passion to everything I involved myself with. Being a good catholic, sex before marriage was out of the question. I was a 21-year-old virgin when my first husband and I went off on our honeymoon. Now, this ain’t to say I was a prude. On the contrary, I had, and still have, a wild imagination and a powerful sex drive.
“By the time we arrived at our hotel, I was jumping out of my skin at the thought of making love for the first time. I couldn’t wait for the feel of his penis inside me. I fooled around a little in high school, letting boys feel me up and such, but no penis every touched my sweet little pussy! It was purring and ready to pounce!
“I really don’t know exactly what happened, but frankly, I went wild that night. I laugh about it now, telling my friends that I “went Cajun” on him. The poor little fella never knew what hit him. I attacked him when we walked through the door, ripping his clothes off and practically mauling him.
“He managed to calm down enough to bahis firmaları get an erection. It’s like I snapped! The sight of an erect penis drove me wild. I panted like an animal as I pushed him down on the bed, straddled him and plunged his cock inside me. To tell the truth, my dear, I fucked the shit out of him. I bounced up and down on his cock until he prematurely ejaculated. I remember screaming so fucking loud that I scared him. I called out for him to “fuck me…Oh yes…give it to me fucker!” It was short but pretty intense.
“After he came, I played with his little ding-dong some more, put it in my mouth, and basically did everything I could to get the fucker hard again. It was a no-go; he remained limp and freaked out.”
“So what did you do?” Dave, her internet friend asked.
“Well sweetie, I just left him be and went to the bathroom to pee. When I came out, he was curled in a ball like a little baby. He stayed away from me all the next day and didn’t say a word. Being young and somewhat impulsive, I told him this was a big mistake and called my mom to come get me. On the drive home, I explained a bit about what happened and she supported my decision to annul the marriage. I was clearly too much woman for him to handle!”
“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that babe,” Dave empathically typed.
Laura went on to explain the story of her life over the computer to a man she was very excited by but had never met. He typed all the right things to her and always left her wet and wanting after their chats.
She typed, “I met John, my husband, a few months later at a family function. I was immediately taken by his kindness and steadfastness. He worked hard in his contracting business, made a good living and in short order offered the stable life I’d been craving. I needed stability as I was pretty wild back then. I think he always assumed I would outgrow my free-spirited nature.
“I love the adventure involved in sexuality, always have. Early in my marriage to John, I looked for new and interesting things to do sexually, repeatedly offering him new places to fuck. John rejected my offers for sex in the car, in the park at night, in the garage, in the shower, on the deck under the moonlight, in his office, and pretty much anywhere except the bedroom. Hell, one time when we were at mass, I offered to fuck him in the confessional! He rejected all of my offers. Over time, he managed to convince me that I was oversexed and just plain weird.
“One night, for example, I decided to surprise him. He arrived home from work to a note on the door instructing him to come downstairs to the bedroom. On the bed was another note, explaining that he needed to take his clothes off, and check the family room for further instructions. In the family room, he found a bottle of body oil and a note pleading with him to oil his muscular body and head for the dining room. On the dining room table was a Scotch on the rocks, with a note asking him to enjoy his after work beverage and when he was done, check the spare bedroom for further instructions. On the computer screen in the spare bedroom was a note instructing him to click on the desktop icon in the upper right hand corner. That’s where I placed a nude photo of myself, spreading my pussy for him. With my lipstick, I wrote a note across my boobs, telling him to come into the master bath.
“I waited patiently that evening in a wonderfully warm, candlelit bath. My body seemed to glow in the warmth of the candle light. I lay naked and horny as a toad. My world collapsed that night. He walked in completely dressed, wondered what I was doing and told me I needed professional help. I cried for days and buried my sexuality for years after. Between the experience with my first husband, and now John’s rejection of my sexuality, I got the message that maybe the men in my life were right. I was oversexed, or worse, had a deep seeded problem.
“Over the next twenty years, I ignored my lust for big juicy cock and simply became a passive receptacle for my husband’s penis. John was extremely unimaginative in bed. He had a thing against oral sex, and liked to get the act over with quick. Every drop of semen he kaçak iddaa deposited into me was like acid pouring into my soul. In time, I grew to hate him.
“Fortunately, I was not, and still am not shy about masturbating. In many ways, masturbation kept me sane over the years. What I found really sad is that he had no idea what a hottie he had on his hands, for I am a natural born squirter!”
“Shut up!” Dave, her internet friend typed excitedly. He was curious about her ability to squirt her juices and asked her to elaborate.
Laura explained, “I discovered that about myself in my early 30’s. One morning, while pleasuring myself before work, I thought it might be fun to get a little wild and crazy. I went to the kitchen and searched for anything penis shaped to put inside of me while I fingered myself. Looking in the refrigerator, I saw the yellow squash I purchased only the day before at the market. I thought it would make for a good time. I warmed it up with my hands, and when it was room temperature, inserted it into my wet puss. It hurt a little at first, but once I was excited, it felt really good. My pussy took it all and while it was deep inside me, I fingered myself furiously. Suddenly, I felt the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced coming on. It was a very different sensation. There was a tremendous pressure deep in my body. As I was about to cum, I pulled the squash out of my vagina and with it came a flood of fluid. It literally flew into the air like a fountain. I lay there confused at what just happened and unable to move.”
“OMG!” Dave typed back to her. “I just had an image of you squirting your juices over the edge of a bridge or something like that!” Dave lustfully typed
“Funny you should mention that…,” Laura typed. “Three years ago during Marti Gras, my girlfriends and I rented a room with a balcony overlooking Saint Charles Street. At around one in the morning, the girls decided to go down to the street to party. Jenna, a good friend of mine, and I were not feeling up to leaving the room, so we stayed behind. We were drinking, and I uncharacteristically told her that I was horny as hell. She’s kind of a saucy gal herself and suggested that we go out to the balcony to flash our tits for the crowd. I was up for it, and off we went.
“Jenna is rather small up top, barely a 32b cup. As you know from my pics, these days I proudly display my 44 D’s at every opportunity I get. We gave the young drunk guys on the street a good show that night. I had a little too much to drink and the crowd was in frenzy. They were screaming for me to flash my pussy. I asked Jenna if she would be offended if I gave the boys a good show. She smiled and dared me. That was all it took.
“I was wearing a skirt that night, and lifted it so I could finger myself for the wanting crowd. I was also extremely turned on! I propped my leg up on a balcony chair and started fingering myself. As I was going at it, Jenna came up behind me, pulled my blouse over my head and grabbed my tits to the delight of the crowd below. In seconds, I felt that now familiar pressure mounting and came with a fury. With Jenna squeezing the crap out of my tits, I squirted a huge stream of pussy juice through the railing and onto the horny buggers down below. They howled in delight!
“The fucking cops came knocking at the door a short time later and told us that we could be arrested for such a display. One cop, the older of the two, explained that he had never seen a woman shoot like that and in honor of my talents, he was going to let me off with a warning. He winked at me, gazed at my tits, licked his lips, saluted me and they went on their way.”
“Wow, that is an amazing story babe!” typed Dave.
“Well anyway, like I was saying earlier, the night before the storm, I decided the time had come to take my husband to task. Knowing that life would change dramatically after the storm was over, I figured the time had come for me to lay my cards on the table with John. I had grown tired of squashing my passion for sex and indeed for life. If my life was going to change with Katrina, then everything about it was going to change, including my sex life.
“Two kaçak bahis days before we were scheduled to evacuate, I unleashed my sexuality on his ass with a fury. We were a little freaked out about what was about to happen with the storm coming, and curled under our covers holding each other. He stroked my arm; his usual way of signaling me that he wanted to fuck. At first, I complied quietly, lying on my back and letting him go through the usual routine. Literally within seconds he was inside of me. Instead of lying passively, I grabbed my legs and spread them as wide as I could. Trust me; it was quite a feat for a 50 year old woman! I grabbed my ankles and begged, “Come on baby, give it to me, I’m hungry for your big fat cock…you like my wet pussy don’t you? Come on and fuck the shit out of me.”
“He was taken aback and stopped thrusting his cock into me, asking what my problem was. I told him that I was very fucking horny and wanted him to fuck me like the little tramp that I am. He asked if I had overdosed on my medication or something, but I persisted. I told him that I have always been a horny bitch and what I really needed was a good spanking. He just lay there frozen, with a concerned look in his eye. I begged him to spank my ass. He refused, and threatened to schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist first thing in the morning. I told him that if he did, I would strip in the psychiatrist’s office and invite the fucker to lick my big fat ass! He just looked at me like I had gone insane.
“I proudly displayed my ass to John and slapped my cheeks, daring him to spank me. John just sat there in shock. Since he wouldn’t spank me, I offered to suck his dick. That is something that he rarely allowed me to do. I think he thinks it’s dirty, but really, we’ve never discussed it. Anyway, I got on my knees on the side of the bed, put my hands behind my back and begged him to stick it inside of my mouth.”
“Holy shit!” Dave typed. “What happened next?”
“Well…,” Laura explained. “I knelt there begging his lame ass to stick his cock inside my mouth but he refused. It was more than he could handle, and frankly I was getting pissed. I finally got off my knees and told him that I wanted him so see what he’d been missing all these years. He wondered what the fuck I was talking about, so I told him to sit tight while I showed him something. I got back on the bed, assumed my favorite position and started playing with myself. He was in shock. Apparently not knowing what to say, he said nothing while I went at it. He just looked at me while I plunged three fingers deep into my wet pussy. I was fingering myself furiously. After a while, I felt the familiar tension building. I screamed out to him, telling him, “you ass, this is what you have been missing out on all these years…mmm…I’m a freak…a fucking whore…watch this.” What followed was the biggest, most intense squirting orgasm I’ve had in years. My juices flew into the air in two strong bursts. I could hear the squishing sound as the fluids erupted.
“When I was done, John was speechless. He did manage to ask if I had just peed myself. I told him that he was a stupid fuck and that he was not going to make me feel like a freak any longer. He left the room, apparently confused. I pulled the covers over my head, prayed to god to give me strength, and went to sleep. My secret was out of the bag and there was no turning back.
“The next morning, I woke up to his snoring along side of me. I woke him up and told him that we needed to get the fuck out of town. We furiously packed what we could fit into the car and headed north. I was pissed that I had to leave my favorite vibrator in its hiding place and secretly prayed that it would survive the storm. We never spoke of the last night in our home. But, I knew that there was no turning back for me.”
“Dang baby, that’s amazing,” Dave typed.
Laura concluded the chat session, “Yes it is, but you know baby, I feel better than I have in years. I now go out dancing on a regular basis. I no longer feel like a freak. John still occasionally fucks me, but really, I don’t care one way or another. I have you to share my thoughts with, and my fingers to bring me pleasure. John is John. I know he doesn’t understand me, but I can’t leave him. After all, I am a good catholic girl.”
Dave typed, ‘I love you babe.”
Laura typed, “I cyber-love you too.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32