My name is Christine, I'm a Account / Project Manager for a major (and I mean major) international corporation in London, I have an exceptional flat in the centre of town, a car service and driver, awesome salary, great wardrobe ~ you know, all the bells and the whistles ~ successful, by anyone's standards. Everyone looks at me and sees a strong, intelligent, confident and succesful woman in her late thirties. I wasn't always like this.
Back in my mid twenties, I was lacking a bit of confidence. I had never been the the most attractive girl in my group of friends, a little too tall (5'8 ~ wearing heels I could be close to 6'), a lttle too curvy (not fat ~ I was always in good shape thyanks to jogging, netball and boxing training) but was never a girly girl. Only 2 things worked in my favour, long toned legs and a great bust (38DD that even now at 39 are just about defying gravity). All in all, I was quite shy and generally lacking in confidence. I'd been in a couple of real relationships both of which hadn't gone well. The first couldn't not sl**p around and by consequence the second was solid, reliable, honest and to be realistic dull (nice, but dull), as such neither had really added to my self-esteem. There had always been a sense of waiting for someone, something to happen, on reflection it was probably the inner anticipation of waiting for me to find myself, become self aware, to truly come out of myself. Little did I know what was around the corner.
Myself and my house mates were in a club on a Friday night. The three of us had recently moved to a town (not saying which) near London, didn't really know any outside our group and were gradually forming a social circle.
Sarah and Anna had found a guy each within the first month of us taking the house, I was exasperated rather than jealous. Not for the first time I was in the midst of a "I don't need a man" phase, they rarely lasted more than a couple of weeks before I was getting all dreamy about some guy met in a bar and then having the hump cos he didn't ask for my number or if he did, turned out to be a complete creep or loser.
Anyway, it had been a regular sort of girls night out, wine in a bar, cocktails somewhere else and now in a club for some dancing. The girls were dancing with a couple of guys, flirting outageously while I took a breather at the table we'd managed to hog. I sat back, lit a cigarette (yeah, I know...) while I waited for my flirty friends to return and claim their drinks, which they shortly did, dragging their new found boy toys in tow.
The first of the guys said something about it my being my round and I was about to retort that he could buy his own drinks, when a voice behind me asked what everyone was having. I turned and saw, sitting at the table behind, some guy who was obviously part of their group. His name turned out to be Will.
He was tall, 5'11 or so, short cropped hair, athletic with broad shoulders, nicely muscled arms and strong broad hands. It was the eyes that got you, slate grey,so intense that they seemed to just bore into you. It was his gaze and something about his manner that was abit off-putting, somehow there was an air of being unnervingly confident and assured, slightly challenging but reassuring at the same time. This was different to the usual fodder that was available. We spoke a little through the rest of the night, in between him laughing and joking with his mates and batting back my flirty friends (yeah, they had the measure of him as well) and it was ... pleasant. No fireworks, not love at first sight etc, but ...nice. Anyway, at the end of the night he walked us to a cab, asked for my number, which I gave. As he strode off into the night (with me noticing how he nicely filled a pair of jeans from behind) and fully expected not to hear from him.
Next day, he called, said he'd pick me in an hour, I panicked, dived in the shower and was just about ready when he turned up. We had lunch and a few drinks, a very nice date indeed. He was intelligent, witty and above all interested in me it seemed. I liked him alot, although there was something still about him that made me a bit nervous, albeit in a good way. However, we had a couple of dates that week and I decided that the next weekend was the big one.
I went round to his flat, the top floor of some converted concrete monstrosity on the edge of the industrial side of town, simply but tastefully decorated. I cooked dinner, we ate, drank wine, talked. As he gathered up the plates, I placed a hand on his thick wrist saying that couldn't we leave that for later.
He drew me up from the chair and kissed me like I'd never been kissed before, slowly, deeply, passionately, like he was drawing the soul from me. It left me breathless and ridiculously aroused. I stepped back to lean against the wall and pulled him to me, he took my wrists in his hand and pinned them to the wall above my head, his other hand brushing up under the hem of my dress, sliding gently up the inside of my thigh and brushing across my thong and tracing the lips of my pussy with his thumb.
I could barely stand it, my hips trembled at his touch, my knees felt weak, my nipples strained at the lace fabric of my bra, I remember thinking at the time if he sucks on them I'm going to orgasm right there and then.
His hand crept up from between my thighs acoss my stomach and round to whre he deftly unclipped my bra. My dress and my bra together were drwan up over my head and thrown to one side, before his hand moved back to my lacy thong which was ripped down my legs and off in one swift movement. Turning me to face the wall, he placed my hands in the small of my back and looped the panties around my wrists binding me securely, my breasts and aching nipples crushed against the cold concrete wall.
He spread my feet apart, I had to use the wall to lean against to take my weight as one hand reached around and up, holding me firmly under my chin, his strong fingers around my neck, supporting me. The other hand snaked back between my thighs, his fingertips searching out my lips and clit alternating between one then the other, rubbed between thumb and forefinger slowly and firmly until I was gasping and begging him to take me. I felt his breath between my shoulder blades ashis lips then traced a path up my spine until he fixed his lips, open mouthed on the back of my neck and gently sucked and licked as two of his fingers sought out my sopping wet pussy. The fingertips gently slipped in and he spread me open as a third eased in as well, it was too much. I hadn't had sex in many months and any masturbation (and there'd been a lot) centred on my clit and not penetration, I was tight, too tight for this but it was amazing, even if it did hurt a little. His fingers f***ed themselves slowly deeper, stretching me, his fingers hard and a little cruel, flewing and rubbing at the soft inner flesh, rotating to push against the most senstive spot making me cry out in a wanton and guttural way I hadn't thought was possible.
Just when I thought I couldn't bear it anymore I felt the tip of his thumb brush across my other hole, I tensed and gasped that he shouldn't do this, it was no use, I felt the tip of his thumb open me up and slide in as slowly and inexorably as his fingers had, I took him to the base of his thumb, this was something new, never before had I allowed anyone to do this, although to be fair I wasn't actually allowing it. To my surprise, I revelled in it, I had never felt so full and complete as I bucked against his hand. I felt him push deeper but he couldn't go deeper, I went up on tip toes and he stayed with me, I cried out as the pressure built in side me, my stomach muscles twitching, my toes only lightly brushed the carpet as he lifted me and with his hand beneath mt chin he arched me back as the convulsions of my orgasm ripped through my body.
If I knew what was to follow I should have ran, actually even knowing what I know now, I probably wouldn't have....