The Return

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Hi Everyone!

My name is Teri, and I used to run around quite a bit and play, and I would keep a record of everything in my journals. I started to publish my journal entries a few years ago and met with great success. So many of you wrote to tell me how much you appreciated my journal entries, and I made the acquaintance of many fine boys and girls (and some naughty ones, too).

No sooner had I started to “dip my toe” into Literotica, my life went through many, many changes. I’m not going to go into detail here, this is going to be a happy story. Suffice it to say that I am older, wiser (I hope), and strangely enough it was my therapist who suggested that I return to posting. She said that writing my experiences relieves me of some inner guilt, or something like that. She said it’s like a Catholic confessing.

Anyway, I would love to have published the rest of my journal entries, but one of the very bad things that happened involved losing my journals forever. My only touchstone to my journals is Literotica, where I can see the few I was able to post, which is 6 out of over 200 total entries when I lost them.

An aside, if you don’t mind. I admit to you, and it is no secret, that I was extremely promiscuous from my first experience at an age too young to write about here, until the bad times started. Nothing proves this fact better than the fact that I wrote about 207 sexual “escapades” in my journals, more than half of them involving more than one person and/or more than one act of intercourse (such a funny word). I have been forced to apologize for this behavior over the last few years, but I’m done apologizing.

When the bad times started I moved in with a couple whom I trusted, and I lived with them for almost a year. That couple, who I love like my family, became slightly famous for a while, after starring in one of the Journal Entries I posted. Some of you might even be happy to hear that for that entire time I didn’t have sex even one time. Prepare yourself, but I swear it’s true, I didn’t even masturbate.

When I felt strong enough to go back out into the real world, I continued to live like a nun. In the year and a half after I moved out, I only slept with four men and no women. I ended up meeting a nice guy, and we even moved in together. Things were okay, and I thought I was happy. What follows is the story of how I started on the road to real happiness and fulfillment, though I’ve learned that everything in life, good or bad, has a price.

Kenneth was home when I got home from work. I’d been working in a secretarial position with the same company for almost a year, and I enjoyed my work. Kenneth gave me a kiss and we chatted about our day, and our plans for the evening. He was going out with his buddies, going to some bar to watch sports and then to one of his friend’s house for poker night.

Things like this always stir up memories, but I’d learned to hide when it did.

I was going to a bar downtown to meet a couple of the girls from the office for drinks, and then we were planning to go dancing (yes, I still love to dance). Kenneth told me to be careful, not to drink too much, and to call him if I needed a ride or anything.

I was in the shower when he left. After dressing (bustier, jeans, and boots), I drove downtown and found a spot in a parking structure not too far from the bar. It was almost seven when I got there, and the place was packed. I got a cocktail and moved through the crowd until I found the little table where Angela and Francine were waiting for me.

Okay, about my coworkers. Angela is a tall blond, probably about 5′ 7″, and really thin, like too skinny. When we go out at night, Angela wears a lot of very tight clothes, usually slacks and blouses, and always a scarf. She wears heels, but never anything too high. Angela is way too skinny, in my opinion, though I’ve seen the guys drool, so who knows? She has small breasts, a non-existent waist, and very thin, almost square hips. Hardly a curve in sight. She’s also really funny and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, so don’t think that I’m hating on her.

Francine, on the other hand, also blond, wears giant heels (like I used to wear) and is still considered short. That girl has the curves, with big-ass tits and wide hips with a plump ass. Her going-out outfits usually consist of tight jeans and halters. Francine is also a great girl, really fun and fun to dance with, but not really too bright (sorry Francine).

Oh, and Francine is 34, Angela is 46, so roll that back about a year and a half and you’ll have a general idea of how things were at the time. Okay, so I went to the table and we chatted and drank for a while, but the bar was way too crowded so we decided to go to the club.

Angela drove us there and the club, is really a nice restaurant. We went in and down a side staircase to the bar downstairs, and at the end of that room is the entrance to the dance floor. We made a bee-line for the dance floor and started to cut loose, the three of us dancing together.

A bit later, we went back into the bar and grabbed a table and drinks. güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri We had been sitting for less than ten minutes before the first wave attempted to land, two guys in their late thirties/early forties, who wanted to buy us drinks. We chatted and I barely blocked in time, keeping Angela from going out on the floor with one of them. What can I say? They didn’t feel right, and I’ve got pretty good instincts (on average).

A bit after that, another guy came to the table and wanted to dance with me. I turned him down politely, but since I didn’t really see anything wrong with him I didn’t block for Francine, and she didn’t seem to mind being second choice. Angela and I chatted, and Francine came back a while later. We were really having a good time and were about to go back out on the floor together.

The guy walked up to the table without me even noticing. He said, “Good evening,” and his voice was rich and deep, and he had a wonderful deep southern accent. I looked up and saw him, all 6′ 3″ or 4″ of him, with dark hair with lots of gray, pretty light blue eyes, and deep lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked like he was a fit man in his late fifties or even early sixties, and he was wearing dark slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Very fit for his age, his forearms had some real muscle showing. He smiled and asked me to dance.

Angela tried to block for me, grabbing my wrist and holding my hand up to show off my engagement ring, but he kept smiling and said, “I asked the lady, and not you.” I smiled at him and wiggled my fingers, and he just kept on smiling and said, “I didn’t think that ring looked heavy enough to have broken your legs.” I laughed, and felt my heart quicken, a bit of almost forgotten tingle running through my body. I agreed that my legs were not broken, and I left the table, much to the surprise of my coworkers.

We went out on the floor and began to dance, and he was pretty good. He let loose and had fun, the way a lot of the older men I’ve danced with do. I think it has something to do with disco. Anyway, I started out dancing with him, swinging my hips, stepping, the normal kind of dancing. But as we danced, about the third or fourth song maybe, his freedom was infectious, and he started to get some of the old show. Before I knew it I was really swaying my hips, my arms went up over my head, my body started to move. I went down low and came up slowly, I turned and turned, and before I knew it I had my back against him, grinding.

Not only was I having fun, but it felt like there was a wall around me that was melting, like it was made out of sugar and the rain was coming down, baby. My moves got smoother, more sensuous, and when we walked off of the dance floor I was like a panther, stalking along next to him. My hips and shoulders rolling, walking the way any girl does when she’s the hottest thing around and she knows it, and she knows that everybody else knows it too.

It hit me that I felt so alive! Like I hadn’t felt in years! My skin was tingling, my senses seemed more focused, more sensitive, my heart was pounding, and I realized, my pussy was wet! I’d been having to pull out the old “Kentucky Lotion” in order to have sex for quite a while, and there I was, all nice and creamy. Worse, it felt like I was making up for lost time, and I self-consciously checked my crotch to make sure I wasn’t showing (dark jeans help).

We were almost back to the doors to the bar, and I turned to my “date” and reached up and pulled him down to me with a hand on his shoulder, and in all of the noise and music I told him I wanted to get out of there, but I needed to ditch my coworkers. He looked at me, confused, I guess, and he said something about the kitchen.

And then he pointed at my ring. I must have stared at it for a minute, maybe two, but it felt like hours as I watched the light glinting on the diamond. I had done the most “grown up” thing in my life, committed to marry (yes, marry. Get your jaws of the floor!) Kenneth. I always tell the truth when I write, and I’m not going to stop now, no matter what you think about me. I looked back at the big old southern guy and I shrugged.

He grabbed my arm and hustled me over to the little hallway with the bathrooms and past them into the kitchen. We were bustling through, and I was laughing, looking for the back door (ba-dum-dum) and some guy yelled at us that we weren’t supposed to be there. We were both smiling, so the guy knew he wasn’t forcing me or anything, and he just pointed back to where we’d come from and said two magic words that got us an escort to the back door and out into the night. The southern gent escorting me through the kitchen said, “Her husband.”

The back door closed and we were in the alley. I put my hands on my knees and I laughed so hard! I felt young and alive, for the first time in so many years – too many years – I felt so good. He asked me where we should go next, and I looked at him for a few minutes, the rusty gears creaking to life in my head, and I smiled at him and then backed up against güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri the wall and said, “Nowhere, yet.” And then, “Here’s nice.”

That big guy was quick, I’ll tell you, and before I knew it I was pressed against the wall, his big old thigh pressing between my legs, and I was licking his tongue in my mouth. I swear that if I got any more wet I’d need a life jacket. His hands were rough, but they sure felt good sliding over my bare arms and shoulders, and when his big old hands touched my neck, his thick fingers holding me, cradling my head, his thumbs resting on my throat, oh I swear I had a tiny little cum right then!

You know what? When he stopped kissing me and looked into my eyes, I saw hunger, and I knew two things. First of all, I knew that he knew that I came. Second, I knew that he was not going to be denied, but then I didn’t plan on trying. He kissed me hard for a while, and I loved every second of it.

I’m going to interrupt myself for just another minute, if you don’t mind. I went a very long time with no sex, and then an even longer time with very little sex and a little masturbation. Since I’d gotten together with Kenneth I’d had infrequent sex, no more than maybe twice a week. Okay, that might not seem so bad, but for me it was like being locked in a convent, but without the young girls to play with. (Not that young! I’m a promiscuous bi slut, not a pervert. Okay then, not a pedophile.)

So anyway, In all that time I never got wet enough to fuck without lube, sometimes lots of it, and I came very rarely, even when I did it myself. But in all that time I hadn’t had a real, honest to “see the face of” God, orgasm. Just wanted to clear things up and let you know where my head was while I was making out with the old stranger in an alley.

Okay, back now. I asked him if he lived nearby, and he said something that made my heart soar, like it should have when Kenneth proposed. He said that he was just in town for a conference and was staying at a really nice hotel close to the club. He didn’t really say “really nice hotel,” he said the name, but I was acquainted with it and knew it to be nice, and pretty forgiving of adventurous girls.

We were in easy walking distance, so I took his arm, and when we got about a block away I started texting. I sent Francine a note to let her know I’d gotten a horrible headache and then started my period, and I was so embarrassed that I had a waitress call me a taxi and smuggle me out. Not to ruin the ending or anything, but can you believe that worked? Not a problem at all.

He got to the hotel and went through the lobby to the elevators without stopping. I don’t know what it will mean to you, but I felt really good when Robert at the front desk saw me and grabbed the guy next to him pointed at me. It had to be almost five years since my last adventure at that hotel, and he still remembered. Mmmm, come to think of it, that was a very memorable night. And Robert WAS there… Maybe I’ll tell that one soon. (Note to self: Look up Robert again.)

I’m sorry I keep breaking up the narrative like that. I’ll try to keep things together.

So, we were making out in the elevator, me pressed against the cold mirrored wall, and I was totally into it. I can’t begin to describe to you the differences in me, from sitting in that club, the engaged secretary who hadn’t had a good cum in way too long, to the sexy hot she-cat who wanted to ride this bronco into the ground and then dust off and see what Robert was up to.

We got into the room (new color scheme, by the way. Very nice.) and he threw me up against the wall and was raping my mouth with his tongue, his hands all over my shoulders and trying to feel my tits through my bustier (advice: don’t even try), and my hands were all over him, feeling nice hard muscle all over his arms, chest and back. What I felt next was so unexpected I started pulling up his shirt. He helped me get his shirt off and I got to touch a really impressive set of rock-hard abs. I love me some rock-hard abs on a guy like I love b-cups on a girl (or long, sexy legs and a tight, firm ass). What can I say?

I unzipped my bustier and dropped it, and then, while he undressed, I called Kenneth. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled one of my boots off while I listened to him tell me that they had enjoyed the game and had just arrived at his friend’s house to start the poker game. The guy helped me pull of the other boot while I told Kenneth that we’d been having fun dancing and might go over to Angela’s for some wine after. I told Kenneth that I loved him and to have a good game while the guy was yanking my jeans down and off. I hung up while I was still bouncing on the bed and laughed, tossing my cell toward my jeans. The general area where the guy had tossed them on the floor actually.

He took one look at me and started pulling off his clothes really fast, like he’d never seen a really hot girl in her twenties before. Then I rubbed my pussy and got a surprise. I mean really. I had to look for myself, and when I did I saw that my crotch was so güvenilir bahis şirketleri wet that my panties showed off my pussy like a white cotton shirt shows off tits in a wet T-shirt contest. I kept rubbing my pussy through my panties while he tore off his clothes, and when he rushed the bed I swung my feet to the floor and caught his hips with my hands, his rather impressive cock bouncing only a few inches in front of my face.

I curled my fingers around the head and ran my hand back to the root, where his silvery pubes looked like smoke and made his cock look like a rocket, taking off and headed for my mouth. That never fails to bring a fat drop out, and I licked it and rubbed it around the inside of my mouth with my tongue, savoring it. I was so glad that he was hung. It would have been a real let down to get my own mojo going after so long and find out he wasn’t. So I wrapped my lips around him and started working him in my mouth, bobbing and sucking and licking, enjoying every moment, and going down a bit further I kept up the cocksucking action, and then more, and more, and then I just had to test myself so I let go of his cock and went down hard until he was buried in my throat, and he was gasping and moaning, so I guess my throat still contracted and spasmed like it used to.

It took a few times before he got the idea, and when I got him in my throat again he held my head and fucked my throat slowly, and was good enough to let me go when I slapped his thigh softly. “Where’d you learn to do that, Sweetheart?” he asked me, and he looked so sweet, all big eyes and mouth open. I pulled off of his cock and told him that LA girls are taught it in high school, which is a lie, but it’s a funny lie. It actually took me years to really master. I should teach, you know?

So anyway, I’m sucking his cock and he’s moaning and telling me how beautiful I am and how I was blowing his mind, and then the dumb shit says, “Your husband’s one lucky guy.” Yeah, wow. He’s not my husband, he’s my fiancé, and he’s so damned lucky that I’m here swallowing your dick. (Note to men: Say the beautiful part, say the hot part, say the blowing your mind part, even say the your pussy feels/tastes good (DUH!) part, but before you say the husband or boyfriend is a lucky guy part? Shut the fuck up!)

I’m a trooper. I kept fucking his cock with my mouth, but if he thought he was getting anymore throat, he could think again. He was trembling and I thought he might blow if I didn’t stop, so I backed off and let my hand keep his interest up. Then I let go and moved back on the bed, crawling backward, and he bends down and grabs my leg. He got his fingers into the waist of my panties and next thing I knew they were hanging from his finger, just before he took a big sniff and then dropped them. I don’t get that really, but I don’t mind. There are girls I knew that I could spend all night just smelling their hair, I shit you not.

He started to crawl on the bed, coming for me, and that sight, big, strong, older guy with hot young guy body, crawling toward me with a fat, respectable eight-plus incher swinging between his legs, I got all creamy again and lay back to let him have his way. I wasn’t shocked or disappointed when he started sucking my tits. He didn’t seem the pussy eating type. I was very pleased to discover that he had chosen to specialize, and was an expert tittie sucker. I was holding his head and moaning and loving it when he sucked or nibbled on my tits, licking or biting softly on my rock-hard nipples.

Finally I lost it and yelled at him to fuck me, and he didn’t need another invitation. All of a sudden my knees were hooked over his elbows and I had a big, gorgeous, fat cock stretching me out nicely. I could exaggerate and say that I bucked and screamed, or moaned sexy things, or whatever, but I promised the truth, no matter what. When his cock opened me up, stretched me wider, deeper than I had been in years, seriously, I just maybe whimpered a little and sighed, and when he was up in me all the way, all I could do was lean up and kiss his lips and say, “Thank you.”

And then he fucked me. He was like a battering ram, slamming into me slowly but forcefully. His cock felt so good inside me, and I tried to give as well as get, grabbing his cock with my pussy, running my hands over his chest and shoulders and telling him how big and beautiful he was. He had my legs bent back so far that I couldn’t do much maneuvering, so I mostly just laid back and got fucked, playing with my own titties and rubbing his body.

I felt myself working up to a really good cum, and I started fingering my clit, turning it up to eleven. It was going to be so good, and I told him not to stop, told him how much I loved his cock, and when I got closer, close enough to be afraid, I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk, so I just yelled at him to fuck me, over and over and over. He pulled it off too! He speeded up and was really slamming it home, and I was screaming, so ready to cum, but every time I was right on the edge, the edge moved farther away, and I was racing, frigging my clit and he was doing as commanded and fucking me like he was forty years younger, hard and fast and sloppy! I was going out of my head and it felt like not just my pussy, or even deeper, but like my thighs and my ass and just about everything else right up to my heart, was going to explode when I came, and I was going to die.

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