The great love of my life, Ayana, is away on business and as we’ve agreed, I am free to play with other women.
The first day or so I was determined to be the faithful little wifey then the twitch in my cunt came, as it always does and I shouldn’t have been surprised, so I went out last night to see what I could see.
After a light dinner in the city I wandered about window-shopping. I didn’t really feel like visiting the bdsm club I used to frequent, it’s lost some of its shine for me now. But the twitch was still there. Even without men I suppose my nature is still to be a slut or at least free with my affections and the thought of going home without some kind of adventure was too dire to conceive of.
There’s a club I’d heard of, a gay and lesbian club Ayana mentioned once, so I went there. It looked cool and the music was suitably loud so I got a drink and made my way to the dance floor. It felt good to be out on my own and fancy-free. I closed my eyes, felt the beat of the sounds and danced alone. Along with my little red dress I’d worn I also had on heels, high heels, and my feet became tired after a while. That’s the thing with four-inch heels, they’re pretty and they feel wonderful to wear, not to mention making my legs look fabulous, but for dancing they’re literally a pain after a time. So I found somewhere to sit and watch the other girls dance.
The cherry-flavoured vodka began to give me a lovely little floaty feeling and after a third, quite floaty indeed. What a pleasant evening. Girls came and went, sitting and chatting, bringing drinks sometimes but mostly just moving to the beat of the music. When Ayana’s back we must come down here together. I love seeing her move, she’s like a cat, slow and elegant.
A few of the girls who sat by me asked if I would like to go somewhere but really, I was happy where I was, just sitting and enjoying the chat and the sounds. Besides, while I love the bodies of young women, I was hoping to catch the eye of someone older. I don’t know if I ever mentioned it but I have a real thing for older women, sometimes far older than myself. But it wasn’t happening. I guess a pounding club beat and dozens of young women and men is not the natural environment of an older woman.
It wasn’t such a problem anyway but the twitch was still there, subdued but still there. I got up to dance quite a lot, moving about the dance floor, dancing close in some of the slower grooves, kissing some girls while we moved together. I even went to the bathroom with one girl who I couldn’t resist, she just had something that made me want her and she, me, it seemed. We found a stall and fucked each other ’til our hands were soaked then helped to smooth each other down, readjusted our clothes, touched up our makeup, then went back out on the floor. It felt good to have some of the heat reduced and after a little more dancing I bought another drink and sat down away from the dance floor, back in a sort of booth by the wall. The girl was off, grinding with some other chick who I saw her walk off with after, to the bathroom. A fellow slut is not hard to spot.
As is so often the way, I was relaxing with my drink, a little dreamy and drifty, off in my own little world, when a woman asked if she could sit. I gestured with my hand in a grand sweep, my head was fuzzier than I’d thought. She sat.
I sat, quiet but admiring the woman across from me. I didn’t have to speak apart from telling her my name when she asked. She did all the talking. It transpired that she’d been in the club for an hour or so and she’d been taken with me. She watched as I danced and as I disappeared into the bathroom with the girl, then reappeared. She’d been fantasizing about what I’d been up to with the girl and she told me, in detail, what she’d imagined we were doing in there. Actually, she was quite close to the mark.
Her voice had a quality that soothed me and compelled me to listen. She said her name was Mag, short for Magdalena. I saw that she was pretty but not young, I guessed perhaps fifty, maybe fifty-five, with a heat about her, a youthful heat.
She asked me if I was married, I said no. She asked if I was involved, I said yes and gave her a short explanation. She asked me to her place, I said yes.
****
Mag’s home was pleasant, large but not huge, well-decorated but not lavish. She is a woman of taste, understated and elegant, the kind I love the most.
She asked, “Would you like a drink?”
I replied, “No, I want you.”
It was, after all, why we’d come here and the heat in me was rising.
We made it to the sofa where she lifted my dress over my head. In the taxi on the way here, she’d already discovered my lack of underclothes when her hand ventured into my lap, beneath my hem. She’d rubbed, received a little prize, then licked her finger. I would have leapt on her then had it not been a taxi.
She pushed me back on the sofa where I lay and watched as she lifted her dress off. She was braless with a turquoise thong. I reached forward to pull down her thong but she pushed me back, smiling. Her breasts were white and soft, the kind of soft that breasts acquire in middle-age, that lovely crepe sort of soft that feels fragile yet is so sensitive to the touch, and can take a lot of firm attention.
Mag leaned forward then, sliding along my body until our faces were close and I felt her breath. Her body pressed down on mine as she allowed herself to relax into me. She took my hands and placed them on her hips and motioned for me to take down her thong. Her breath rasped, her heat on my face when I pushed the tiny stands of corded material down her thighs. When I’d gotten the thong down below her arse she reached down and used her hand and legs to remove it fully, down her legs and off.
We were naked, pressed against each other. I had a momentary flash of Ayana in my mind, felt a pang of guilt, something I’d not felt before, then quickly realized that where she was, in some city in Africa, at a similarly late hour of the evening, she was most likely, in much the same position.When the cat’s away, the mouse has permission to play. I licked Mag’s mouth then we were kissing.
We eventually made it to Mag’s bed when fevered orgasm after fevered orgasm on the sofa made way for a short break with drinks, fruit juice, a jug and glasses, on a tray.
As should have been apparent to me at the club, Mag was not a shrinking violet type. We went at each other like wild animals, clawing and kissing hard. We fisted each other and even, in the bathroom, drank of each other’s piss. I could judge from her taste that Mag enjoys a healthy lifestyle of good food and drink. One’s diet reflects in the taste and aroma of one’s urine.
By the time I left for home, hours later, I had learned some things about Mag. For one, she isn’t fifty or fifty-five as I’d thought but sixty-five. She takes incredibly good care of herself. Another thing is that she only recently realized that she is a lesbian. Since eighteen she’d been married to a man, a banker, who had died around five years ago. For all of their married life and despite the birth of three children, she’d never enjoyed sex with her husband, not that he was anything special in bed anyway. Men of his generation often regarding fucking as not much more than masturbation with a different kind of hand. She loved him, he was a good companion and provider, but it wasn’t until after he died that she was able to explore sex with women. It was frightening at her age to begin on such an endeavor but she found her first lover and she’d never looked back.
I asked Mag if she was ever lonely, if she craved a full-time lover rather than casual fucks but she told me she was happy with the sex she had and said she was surprised how many younger women came onto her at clubs. She enjoyed sex several times a week and spent the rest of her time visiting her children, spending time with her grandchildren, and reading and gardening.
Being aware of my arrangement with Ayana, Mag asked if we could get together sometimes when Ayana is out of town and I said yes. She seemed genuinely pleased and so was I. The way she does sex, it will be something to look forward to when I can’t be with Ayana.
