Libido Liberation: Midlife Sex Crisis

Libido Liberation: Midlife Sex Crisis

An exercise in erotica

"Let's have a safe word, Babe."

"I don't think..."

"Our safe word is 'Aubergine'."

Was he hinting that he wanted to take charge? After all, he'd just decided for the both of us. Maybe I'd prefer 'Courgette'? But that's beside the point. Did I even want to be involved in something that required a safe word?

I had yet to figure out how much of him to take seriously, but I guess that's what comes with a random pick-up. I mean ‘Babe’? Really? We’d just met three hours ago. I wasn’t used to nicknames and endearments until weeks into a relationship. But then this one-night-stand experiment was still unfamiliar territory. I didn't know the ins and outs, so to speak, yet. If this guy (Harry?) wasn't so appealing I might have told him to get lost. As it was, his humor, flirty smiles, and twinkling eyes made it hard to take offense. But, so help me, if he asked me to bark like a dog I'd be 'Aubergine'-ing so fast...

Snatching his hand, I grumbled "Yeah, sure. That works". I dragged him into my bedroom and a pile of clothes quickly formed next to the bed — pants, skirt, shirts, socks...

I crawled onto the mattress and, out of the blue, felt a smack on my satin covered behind. "What the...?" I flipped over to glare at Harry (Henry?). He was grinning like a fool. It hadn't hurt — no need to halt things just yet. Unless he did it again. I figured my scowly face should make him plenty aware of my feelings on the matter.

After he tossed a wrapped condom on the bed next to us, I pulled him close and soon my bra was yanked down and he was all over my breasts with his mouth and hands. He sucked and pulled my nipples into hard pointy peaks. Wow, he was really working those things. I let out a giggle. I’d found a real titman.

His vocalizing was unexpected. But I discovered that I liked hearing his ‘Mmm’s and ‘Yum’s and ‘Gimme more’s judging by the tingles running through me. Please don't do anything to mess this up. Please, please, please.

"Where's your dildo?"

"Um... I don't have one?"

I was beginning to feel inadequate and unsexy and considered calling the whole thing off. Safe words. Spanks. Dildos. Jesus. I imagined whipping out a monster schlong from a drawer and saying 'Well, whaddya know? Guess I don't need a man after all!' and kicking Harvey out the door. Was plain old vanilla sex not good enough these days? Did he want to watch while I fucked myself with it? Did he want to shove it in my ass? Did he want me to shove it in his ass? All I wanted was a stiff dick and some pussy-pounding missionary action. Was that too much to ask for?

Extricating myself from under him, I tucked my throbbing boobs back into their cups. "Hey, um... I think I'm in over my head, here." I laughed awkwardly because admitting I was a boring lay was super embarrassing. "I'm not really into kink so I don't think this is going to be good for either of us. Sorry."

You're probably thinking 'Awww, she's young and inexperienced. How cute!' Yeah? Try thirty-something. See? I told you it was embarrassing.

You've heard about hot older women tearing up the sheets with virile young men. They've got it all together with their toned bods, salon hair-nails-makeup, stiletto-clad feet, and lots of disposable income. I've only got one of those - almost. The toned bod is still a work in progress.

After a years-long post-divorce depression, I embraced the whole self-improving thing and I've managed to get at least close to my goals. I'm healthier and slimmer than I've been in decades, and I can rock a short clingy dress. Which means I finally have the confidence to seek out a satisfying sex life.

Which brings us to tonight and what I am calling the 'Total Harry Package'. At forty-one, he was only a couple of years older than I. And he was really, really attractive. He had a solid body and if he didn't exactly have a six pack, so what? He was good-humored, he could speak intelligently, and he'd been one of the few men at tonight's party not wearing sneakers or a graphic tee. Honestly, I'd rather one T.H.P. than a dozen twenty-something gym rats. Until his sexual expectations threw me for a loop, that is.

"Hey, no pressure, Babe." Propping himself on an elbow, he took a moment to wipe the corner of his mouth. I was reminded that beneath my bra, my nipples were puffy and covered with his saliva. He was quite the relaxed picture on his side with a bent leg, bare chest, and tented briefs. I'd expected him to be fully irritated with me. "I just want to make sure you get what you want." There was zero irritation in his tone. "So... what can I do to make this good for you?"

Let me explain something. My ex-boyfriend Lance didn't know shit about pleasuring a woman and my ex-husband Paul was a selfish bastard. So not once had I ever heard those words before. Can you blame me if my panties caught fire when Herbie said them? Maybe I'd been too quick to write him off. I should give him another chance. Hell, I'd give him seven chances because my panties were so soaked that, if I pressed my legs together, there would probably be an obscene squishing sound.

"Well, how about... you climb on top of me and put your dick in my cooch."

He laughed and I chose to take it as a 'Right on, girl!' laugh rather than a 'That's all you've got?' laugh.

He hooked his fingers on my panties and, with some teasing shimmying, pulled them off. I expected it to be added to the rest of our clothes but he balled it in his hand and... cue obscene squishing sound.

I couldn't look at him. Literally. My hands were plastered over my eyes and as much of my pink face as possible. My panties may as well have yelled out ‘THIS GAL IS FIRED UP!’.

"Fucking A."

I felt him shift. Then a large fingertip traced my exposed ladyparts.

"You are soooo wet."

I know. I'm so very wet. Sheesh. Did I say my face was pink? It had to be fire-engine red by now.

"I know you want to get to the fucking, but... can I eat you, first?"

He started to scoot down and I panicked. If he went muff-diving, what remained of my dignity would disappear entirely. Cunnilingus is one of my most favorite things ever. It's also - in my experience - one of the rarest. So the extent of my enthusiasm was a fearsome thing. I pictured the poor man getting battered by thrashing legs and an overeager bucking beaver, and forevermore associating the act with 'When Animals Attack'. So I shoved at his head, attempting to sit up. And do you know what he did?

If I were telling this story to my best friend, this is the part where she might say 'Oooh, girrrl... what did he do?' while grabbing popcorn from a bucket.

I'll tell you what he did. He pushed me down, trapped me between his thighs, and pinned my hands to the bed. My loud gasp hung in the air as we both stilled with him looming over me.

And that's how he discovered my one and only kink - restraint. It's not something I indulge in as people tend to assume if you like B, then you must like D, S, and M as well. Nope. Keep your whips, collars, and 'as you wish, Master' away from me, thankyouverymuch. Heck, I'm not even that B; the thought of ropes leaves me cold. So, I've kept it a secret. Until Henry, here, had to go and shine a spotlight.

I couldn't hide my growing excitement under his scrutiny, but I think he was waiting for me to say something. Like... oh, I don't know... maybe a prearranged code of some sort? But I didn't say the word. All he got from me was some seriously heavy breathing. And then he smiled and winked. Can we just take a moment to appreciate a man that knows when a wink is called for? Yes! He got up to rummage in the clothes pile, then he was back on top of me, using his tie to fasten my wrists to the headboard. I barely stopped myself from squealing. This was so happening.

"Sorry, only the hands tonight. Next time we'll do the ankles, too."

Can I keep you, Harry? Henry? Herbie? Harvey? Whatever your name is? Gawd, I hope I didn't say that out loud.

END