The Buzz

Where 'the buzz' was at its strongest, though, surprisingly, was when they had sex in one of their cars in a secluded car park or field in the countryside. Being as good as naked in a place where they could conceivably be caught was such a turn on to Kate that she hardly needed his cock or fingers in her to start cumming.

In between her 'sexual wanderings' Kate's life was just as normal and seemingly respectable as it had been for all of her married life. She was an attentive, caring and supportive, but not cloying mother, a good wife, a great homemaker and a sound worker in her job. She became a stalwart at the tennis club and got more into golf. So apart from when she 'went off the rails' and started fucking some bloke, things appeared to Paul, the kids, her friends and co-workers to be normal.

But she still had the need for that buzz.

During the next couple of years, there was James, Kate's personal trainer at the gym and her first 'young man,' Allen a guy she had met at golf, no not the one who had almost shagged her in the car, Carl, a rather amazing one-night stand and the book store owner Gordon. None of them was serious, none were heavy on either side, none really went beyond occasional, no strings attached sex, although she and Gordon did become like fuckbuddies.

Manfully, Kate thought, she resisted the numerous suggestions made by messenger friends to meet, 'Just for a coffee or a drink'. Friends with whom she had discussed the most intimate topics, friends with whom the topic of most conversations was the traditional theme of chat rooms and messenger, friends with whom she had discussed sex and even some who she had watched masturbate on cam. And they just wanted a 'coffee or drink?' Yeah right!

Then she met James and he was a revelation to Kate.

She had joined a gym, ostensibly to lose weight, and she had found the whole thing fascinating. The machines, the blaring music and the plasmas created such an amazing atmosphere. The number of people, their, usually scanty, clothing, their bodies and the bare flesh excited her. The straining biceps, the pumping calf muscles, the chests, the buttocks and, with the girls, their bouncing boobs, started to give her the buzz. Being with strangers in the pool, the steam rooms and jacuzzis in her swim-suit, men staring at her breasts, all added to the that.

So, when James came onto her, as he did to numerous attractive 'older' women, she was well primed for it. When he suggested a drink after work, she was ok with that. When she gave him a lift home, he didn't have a car, and he kissed her, she was prepared for it and when, several evenings later, after another lift home he caressed her breasts, she pretty much welcomed that. So, when several days later he invited her to his small flat, clearly for sex, she was up for it.

'The bike is about to be ridden again' she thought, hating herself at, but being thrilled by, the prospect of, being fucked by him

This was not an unusual thing to happen for James or, indeed, for several of the PTs. They had come to see shagging birds of all ages as almost their right and 'servicing' nearing middle-aged women as their duty. From the very first time he worked with Kate on her initial assessment he knew he would have her. He knew equally well that once he had fucked her, he would dump her. He always did, that's just how it was, part of the game. If you didn't, then they became too clingy and too demanding. If you let it run on then, sooner or later, you would hear those dreaded words that without any doubt whatsoever signalled the end, "You do love me don't you?" Real death-knell of the affair that was.

The fact that he wanted to have sex with her was not the revelation, she had by now got used to the fact that men were attracted to her. It was a little scary, however, for he was a young, well-tuned, fitness instructor who, presumably, Kate assumed, had sex with some of the female instructors. They had equally well-tuned bodies with figures like stick insects and no excess flesh at all. Not a bit, she worried, like my sagging boobs, the slightly podgy tum, the excess on her hips and bum and the worryingly, chunkiness of her thighs.

No, that was not the revelation. Nor was her agreeing to go to his flat, him quickly undressing her, them both doing oral or him fucking her on the floor of his flat within moments of her arrival, a revelation.

The revelation soon dawned on her though. And it didn't dawn the next day, week or month, it dawned that afternoon. It started to dawn when less than half an hour of being shagged on the floor of his flat, she was bent forward over the back of a chair being shagged again. It dawned even more when, just another hour later, they were in his bed and they were having sex again.

She had, of course, forgotten, if she had ever really known about, the amazing stamina and incredible recovery powers of young men. Kate was sure it hadn't been there with Paul and her when they were young, and she didn't recall it in any of the other, few, lovers she'd had in her teens.

But it was certainly there in the six week or so affair they had that autumn.

Their 'arrangement' took on a pattern. James worked until ten four days a week and most weekends. Their opportunities to meet, therefore, were rather limited. Kate could not easily get away at weekends and late night meetings were impossible. They had two windows. Mornings before James start time of eleven and his day off. They used both to the full.

Kate changed her days of work so she could see James on the afternoon of his day off. Then, she would go to his flat around mid-day. They didn't do anything but fuck. No meals, no going out, no drinks and no contact with anyone else, just sex.

About twice a week she would go to his flat for 'breakfast' as they called it, but again they ate little other than themselves. Two quick shags and a cup of coffee set them both up for the day.

She knew it was totally demeaning. She knew that her behaviour with James was really quite disgraceful. Kate was completely aware that she was in danger of making a fool of herself, but she had never experienced such sexual frequency and intensity that she did with him.

It was, of course, his amazing stamina and recovery powers. Well to her they were, but when she did some research, four times in an evening for a twenty three year old was pretty much par for the course, she learned.

'God what a lot I missed out on,' she thought one afternoon as he fucked her for the fourth time in six hours.

Kate had experienced that wonderful roller coaster ride of being taken near to an orgasm, then held there for some time, without fully climaxing. What she had never experienced was having that done to her four or five times in such a short time. Visiting James, she often thought, must be a little like visiting an opium den, a constant high.

But it didn't last, it couldn't and neither really wanted it to. It was like a firework, a sudden explosion as it burst into life, a cacophony of amazing action for a brief time then a fizzling out as the power and intrigue were satisfied. He didn't give her up as he had most other 'oldies' and she didn't walk out on him. It simply had its time then finished, something James was very used to and something that Kate was becoming familiar with. It had had its day.

Chapter 6

It was inevitable really that, as time went on and as Kate's 'flings' became both more frequent and daring, she would take more risks. Well not take risks as such, but be more open, be more receptive to advances from men 'closer to home' as it were or, as some termed it, start to 'pee on her own doorstep.'

She found herself responding easier to men at parties and other events, even when Paul was there. She started to flirt and wear more revealing and, as the work at the gym with James, the exercising not necessarily the shagging, reduced her weight, tighter clothes. She went out with the girls from work or the tennis club more often, sometimes even ending up in clubs, dancing and drinking quite late. She enjoyed the banter, the double entendres and the suggestive remarks at work, the golf club and at tennis.

Chapter 7

With James becoming a pleasant, but rather disturbing due to the manner in which she demeaned herself, memory, Kate got on with her life.

The really odd thing, she began to find, was that the more 'naughty' she was, the more flings she had and the more sex she had on the side, the better she and Paul seemed to get on, even in bed. This also transmitted itself to her relationship with the kids and her role running the house. It was almost as if she had to try harder and create a better environment as atonement for what she was doing behind their backs: a little like the husband starting to bring flowers and other gifts, although Kate was not as obvious as that, but then she was female wasn't she?

Allen was a 'self made man.' A wheeler dealer, an entrepreneur a businessman; some said he was a crook, others a tax fiddler and most that he dabbled a lot, having 'fingers in many pies.' He had several shops, a number of market stalls, a property development company, a storage business, plant hire, skips, a few pubs and clubs and, so it was rumoured, a number of massage parlours, brothels really. Whatever he did, he made a stack of money and he was tremendously charismatic.

He was flash, but in an innocent and almost naïve way. He had a Bentley and a Porsche and Mrs Allen a top level Rangerover sport; personalised number plate of course. They had a huge house near the golf club, a flat in town and holiday homes in Marbella, Florida and South Africa. He kept boats at Port Solent near Portsmouth and Chelsea harbour in the UK and one tied up outside his house on the Intra Coastal waterway just outside Miami and he flew his own helicopter.

Kate didn't know him well. She saw him at the golf club occasionally, more at functions with his child-like looking, false boobed, collagen and botox injected and surgically enhanced faced wife Ellie, than actually playing. Paul knew him for he had once placed some ads for one of Allen's companies and they had played together several times.

Was it flattery? Was she impressed by him? Was it his money, his power or simply his immense charm and he really did have that? Or maybe it was the mystery, the danger, the 'flirting with the devil.' She didn't know just what it was or why she was sitting in his helicopter that morning. It was probably his charismatic personality more than anything else.

She and Paul and Allen and Ellie had been seated on the same table at a golf club do. Allen had been fairly, but not overly attentive to her during the meal. She had noticed, though, that his gaze held hers just that tad longer than was necessary as he asked questions, and he asked a lot. It was part of his charm, part of his charisma that he seemed so interested in everything about her and that is hugely flattering from a multi millionaire.

After the dinner, they had danced. He had held her tightly, possibly slightly tighter than he should have done. Like many men, his hand had ran up and down her back, rubbing, not overtly, but clearly suggestively on her bra strap and just touching the flair of her bum and the elastic of her thong..

"Thanks Kate, that was lovely," he had said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he led her back to the table.

There was no one else left at the table, they were all dancing or had gone to the bar, so Allen sat down next to her, very close. They chatted, easily and relaxed. His knee had touched hers, he didn't move it away, so she did. It came back and pressed. She did the same thing, but not the third for then she left it there, it felt nice. But what felt even nicer was the buzz; it was happening, it was ringing in her ears and roaring through her brain.

His hand had dropped beneath the table, Kate had watched it go. It landed softly on her leg, above her knee, just on the hem of her 'little black, off the shoulder, low cut, short and tight number.' He looked at her. With her new-found confidence in such 'being pulled' situations, she had held his gaze, something a while ago she would never have done.

"Let's dance again," he had said, running his hand suggestively a few inches up her black, stockinged leg.

That time, without any doubt whatsoever, he did hold her too tightly. Her breasts were squashed arousingly against his chest, his bulge was pushed excitingly against her mound and stomach and his hand ran unashamedly over her bum telling him clearly that she was wearing a thong. That time, he slightly pinged her bra strap and the waist band of her panties clearly enquiringly.

The evening had progressed to the stage where at just before one he had asked for her mobile number. That was after he had assured himself of her interest, by squeezing her bum as they danced, by holding her so his hand pressed against the side of her boob and by brushing his lips across hers as they kissed after a dance.

She gave him the number.

The next day he had phoned and two days later she was sitting in his helicopter as he flew them to Brighton for lunch.

"Oh God yes."

"That's amazing."

"You are fucking incredible," were just a few of the compliments Allen showered on her in the suite at the Metropole Hotel on Brighton seafront.

A Mercedes had met them at the airport just in the South Downs round the back of Hove. It had whisked them to the hotel. He walked straight to the elevator and up to the suite, clearly having some pre-arrangement for he didn't check in. 'Maybe he owns the place,' Kate had smiled as she looked impressively around the huge suite.

A whole, cold poached salmon and bowls of oysters and huge prawns sat on a serving table together with loads of different salads and bottles of water, but no wine. The meal was delightful.

Allen was incredibly attentive and enormously charismatic sitting across from Kate eating the prawns and oysters with his fingers. She did the same. They each had a small piece of salmon.

"Would you like desert?" He asked, "We can ring the kitchen for anything."

She said she didn't. "I have my figure to look after."

That brought a broad smile to Allen's face.

"I was going to ask you about that."

Kate momentarily panicked. 'What's he mean?' She wondered, but said. "What were you going to ask?"

Without missing a beat, without the slightest embarrassment and without even sounding pervy or cheesy, he replied. "To see it of course Kate."

'Wow' she thought, "What a line, what an opening, what a come on?"

She was lost, she knew that. She was out of her depth, in too deep, over her head. He was simply just too sophisticated, too experienced, too sexually proficient and yes, she kept coming back to it, too charismatic; she had no way of resisting him.

From there on the afternoon became pure sex. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most confident lover she had ever been with. And that confidence spilled over to her as his charisma captured her. As it moulded her into his arms, as it undressed her, as it undressed him and as they lay on the bed naked.

And it was his charisma, she felt afterwards, that had caused her to be kneeling between his legs, his cock in her mouth, her throat full of his cum with little dribbles of it running over her lips and down her chin, no more than thirty minutes later.

Chapter 8.

Kate and Gordon went back some time. Not sexually, but with their common interest in old books. They had got on well for some years as she visited his shop in the village next to where they lived, just outside London to the North.

How or why they started having sex after all the years they had known each, neither really knew, but they did and they became regular lovers. She would pop into the shop ostensibly to look for a rare book, but in reality to get laid. Gordon would play the game, suggesting she look at first this book then another all the while knowing full well that he wanted to get laid as much as she did. After a respectable time of verbal jousting or, flirting as most called it, one of them would make and advance and Gordon would put the 'closed' sign on the shop doorway and they would go upstairs and fuck. It was nice sex; easy stuff, nothing demanding and low risk. They simply went upstairs and fucked for a couple of hours, got dressed, had a cup of tea and he went home to Belinda and she to Paul. Nice, simple arrangement and very enjoyable, even afterwards.

But it did concern her in some ways, for she knew Belinda and they bumped into each other at functions and other places. That said, realising that Gordon fancied her at least as much as his wife, who most people she knew said was beautiful, although ten years older than Kate, was a turn on in an odd and rather unsavoury way, Kate thought. Nevertheless, her only real affair went on pleasantly, satisfyingly and without any real remorse.

That was not the case, though with Carl, far from it. He was her only ever one-night-stand and incidentally, when Kate was being totally honest with herself, something that became more difficult the more she strayed, the only lover she regretted having. Well that wasn't totally true, it was more the circumstances and the fact that she was so obviously simply a one-night stand to him, that was the regret for, really, he was a superb fuck.

She hadn't long broken up with James and hadn't really quite got going with Gordon. She was on a hen do for a younger girl from her work. She had tried to get out of going, being one of the older women there, but couldn't, so there she was on a warm summers night in a nightclub somewhere in, of all places, Blackpool, which Kate had felt was well past its sell be date; no one explained why that rather tacky town had been selected.

Throughout the previous night's, raucous dinner in a cheap and rather nasty Greek restaurant complete with dancing on the table, plate breaking and Karaoki, Kate had come to the conclusion, the do wasn't really her cup of tea. That conclusion was hardened back at the hotel where the fourteen girls stayed up drinking, singing and dancing together until four in the morning. Things had improved a little the next day, most of which was spent at a rather nice spa, but again deteriorated in the evening. They had been instructed by the head bridesmaid to 'be as glam and skimpy as you can.'

When they met in the bar of the hotel, which thankfully specialised in hen and stag dos, Kate was, as the modern awful expression goes, gobsmacked. She had never seen so much flesh, leg and chest on show, so many low tops and short skirts, stocking tops and bras.

She was wearing a red sequin, covered, boob tube with tight, black cropped trousers and high heels, which was quite risqué for her, but appropriate, she thought, for both the instruction and going clubbing, something she hadn't done for years.

There was yet another noisy and very mediocre dinner, which they ate from 9.30 to after 12 when they went to the club. Unbeknown to most of the girls, the matron of honour had arranged with another hen do and a large stag do to meet up in a bar next to the club, which, amazingly, went on to until six in the morning.

So there was this bizarre situation where around thirty women and about the same number of men met in a bar to get to know each other. It was manic and crazy as everyone, well most everyone, started on shots or vodkas with a clear intent of getting out of their brains as quickly as they could.

From Kate's point of view the only good thing about it was that she could fade into the background and not be missed. She was tempted to slope off and go back to the hotel and go to bed, but as she was sharing she thought that was not such a good idea.

So instead, she got pulled. Not just pulled, but comprehensively picked up.