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What am I?

by annacarrington1960 04/09/17

The lead up to my divorce was messy. We were both guilty of causing that. Bruce because it turned out that he was a serial philanderer and me because I became a revenge slut. And by that I mean I fucked others when I found out that he had. A sort of tit for tat really.

After we broke up I didn't know what to do about my sex and social lives. I sort of drifted. Drifted along, drifted from one man to another from one bed to another and from one fling to another. I became relatively promiscuous.

As I slid into my late forties and my divorce became finalised so my views on sex changed. I didn't consider it to be the precious gift I once had. I didn't treat it as something that special. I didn't see it as being connected to love and I didn't feel that I should not indulge just because I was divorced and single. Men had always had the freedom and ability to 'fuck 'em and leave 'em' and now women were adopting that philosophy as well and I was right in the vanguard of that line of thinking.

My change was not just emotional. It was also physical. I slimmed down. Not that I was that much overweight, but I shed around eight pounds to get myself down into the mid one thirty pounds. I 'blonded up' my really tawny hair, had streaks put in and I grew it a bit at the back. I wore tighter and probably more revealing clothes that emphasised my thirty five inch D cup boobs and womanly thirty six inch hips. I avoided them being too tight on my tummy though for that did not respond well to my diet and exercise regime. I wore shorter skirts to show off what I had been told were my best asset my legs and I bought designer glasses, both rimless and horn rimmed; I had tried contacts and just could not get on with them.

Also I changed my life-style. I joined a gym and went there most days. I took up tennis again and started golf lessons. These were not just for the exercise, but also to get me out and about and to meet people. I went to night school, I joined a reading club and went to salsa dancing lessons. I got a job. It was part time working in a recruitment agency. These life-style changes worked for me as I developed an active social life that for a 'red blooded' new divorcee almost inevitably led to an active sex life.

I put myself about a lot and that led to me putting it about quite a bit. In the last year of my marriage when I was indulging in revenge fucks I had three lovers. In the nine months or so after we split and I waited for the divorce to come through, I was a little busier and had four and in the first year of freedom I had six. Thirteen lovers in three years. And that is counting just those I had full sex with!

Overall I hated it. I hated the guilt, I hated the 'will he won't he' and the 'should I or shouldn't I?' I hated the waking up next to someone I hardly knew and the 'shame' when I got home from being fucked by a virtual stranger. I hated the process of my seduction, when that was needed that was, and the farce of pretending there was more between us than lust.

So I stopped for a while. I kept my legs closed and blouse buttoned up. I stopped responding to men, I stopped holding their gaze and giving them that smile of availability and I stopped accepting their invitations. I became celibate. And I hated that too.

I became a masturbatory junky. I fucked myself almost every day and sometimes two or three times. I bought some toys. I already had a vibrator so I got a very realistic, thick cock looking dildo, some jiggle balls and a rampant rabbit. I used oil all over my body and would masturbate staring at myself in the mirror. My body seemed to become more reactive. It seemed to need more stimulation, more arousal and more satisfaction. And boy did I give it that.

I realised that I was searching for something, but I had no fucking idea what that was other than more fucking!

*

"Mmmmm yes she's lovely," I said to Pauline a lady I worked with at the agency who was talking about Nicole Kidman.

"I think she's gorgeous, I could so easily fuck her" Pauline said casually.

"What?" I said incredulously.

She smiled. "Only joking Anna, after all I'm a happily married woman aren't I?" She said standing up and looking at me over her shoulder as she went out to get coffee for us.

"It looks lovely madam," the sales assistant in the boutique dress shop said looking me up and down when I was on a shopping trip in the West End of London.

"You don't think it's a little tight on me do you?"

"Er no not really," she replied standing behind me as we both looked into the full length mirror.

"Not round here?" I asked running my fingers across my boobs.

"Well yes it is, but then you are nicely full there madam aren't you?" she asked placing her fingertips softly on the material covering the outsides of my breasts in the pale lemon, low cut, tightly fitted dress.

I felt a surge of something and suddenly realised that it was arousal. I looked at her in the mirror. She was older than me, probably in her early fifties. She was short and very slim, her figure was almost that of a young man or boy even. She had an attractive, without being beautiful face, big eyes, thin lips and a rather prominent nose. Her hair was dark and short, again almost a masculine look.

I smiled at her in the mirror.

"Yes and they make buying dresses so difficult."

"Well we'll just have to try harder won't we? We can't have these not looking their best can we?"

I gulped as she held my gaze her fingertips still resting on the sides of my boobs.

'Fuck she's coming onto me' suddenly hit me. I panicked.

"I think I'll leave it," I hurriedly told her.

"What the dress?"

"Yes."

"We do have a couple of others similar to that, madam," she went on.

"Perhaps another time?"

I got out of there quickly and drove home. 'What the hell's happening to me?' I asked myself later that evening after I had been to the gym. I undressed dropped the singlet, yoga pants, thong and sports bra onto the floor.

Naked apart from my glasses I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My fairly short, dirty blonde hair that was normally quite spiky was flat and clung to my head due to the sweating at the gym; for some unfathomable reason I fluffed it up as I looked at myself in the mirror. I have full tits and usually try to get a 35 D cup bra but so many manufacturers only make them in even number sizes so my bras were often a little too tight or slightly loose. The rest of the body was ok. A few wrinkles and some excess here and there, a little too much on the tummy and a bit on the bum and hips, but not unduly with either given my age. My legs are good, I am proud of them all the way up and my bum is still pert and nicely rounded.

Staring at my naked form I realised that I was horrendously frustrated. I needed sex, I wanted to be held and then fucked, but I had no one. No one that is than myself. So I held my breasts, I squeezed them and pinched my nipples. I fumbled between my legs gradually dropping to the tiled floor. As the underfloor heating was not on it was cold to my naked bum and back, but that didn't stop me laying on it, raising my knees, opening my legs and plunging my fingers on both hands onto my clit and up my cunt. As I fucked myself I was horrified to realise that in my mind it was the sales assistant who was holding me, kissing me, caressing me and yes, fucking me.

That made me think. Could I be gay, could I have become a lesbian?

I had always had a keen interest in sex. I was enthusiastic with Bruce, played my full part and often initiated things. I had been up for most things with him including anal and oral with me swallowing. After we broke up I had been in two threesomes with two guys and I had my fair share of lovers, but nothing bi at all. Bruce had never pushed the idea of him, me and another woman and during all my marriage and since there had been no temptation at all in that direction. So why the fuck was I now getting excited about the sales assistant?

It was at the end of a long day. Pauline and I had been on the phones a lot, had carried out numerous interviews and had completed a ton of paperwork. We decided that we deserved a drink so we left the agency around seven and went to the local pub. Pretty much alone on the large, outside terrace, we ordered a bottle of Pino and were sipping the crisp, white wine as she smoked a cigarette.

"Did I shock you the other day Anna?" she asked.

"When?"

"About Nicole Kidman."

"Actually yes you did."

"Well couldn't you?"

"Couldn't I what?"

"Oh I don't know," Pauline replied shaking her head so that her long black hair shimmered in the fading light. She lit another cigarette from the stub of the previous one. "You would think that because I can't in the office I would smoke less she smiled, but I smoke more, fuck it."

"What do you mean?" I queried now quite interested.

"You don't mean about smoking do you?"

"No, what you just said."

You remember what I said then?"

"Of course."

"Well I didn't really mean just that."

"So what did you mean?"

"Look I don't want this to sound like a come one, but have you ever messed around with other women?"

"You mean sexually?"

"Yes."

"No I haven't."

"Never?" She asked tipping her head back and blowing smoke into the air as I sipped my white wine.

"Well actually there were a few furtive fumbles at uni and in clubs, but they were mostly due to too much cider."

"Are you curious?"

"Well actually I am becoming more so as I get older," I told her trying to sound rather disinterested although the opposite was the truth.

"Again don't take this the wrong way, but you really should try it."

Smiling I said. "Is that an invitation?"

She looked at me her dark eyes sparkling and smiling replied. "It's not a good idea to fuck your friends."

For the rest of the evening I couldn't get my mind off what Pauline had said. She had been so open and matter of fact about it. We'd chatted a little more as she smoked her third Marlboro Light. I was interested, but was loathe to show that too much so I didn't ask many questions, even though I wanted to. She told me that it had started a few years ago.

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