Angie Takes A Chance

"Apparently he went just like that, heart attack while playing golf," says the woman to her neighbour over the fence. She nods towards a house on the other side.

"Perhaps in hindsight not such a surprise," comes the reply, "let himself go lately, put on all that weight. Not like his poor wife, I wouldn't mind her figure.'

"How's she coping?

"Pretty well actually...."

Angie knows she's meant to be grief-stricken but now the initial shock has abated the truth is, she isn't. Growing apart some call it - him drifting away more like it. How can someone's personality alter so completely in early middle age? Become complacent, opinionated, drink too much and as for sex, in the unlikely event he'd shown any interest the prospect of three minutes under her late husband's grunting, flabby frame was enough to turn anyone celibate.

Dutifully Angie begins going through his affairs. The paperwork is easy enough. Thank goodness their finances are in joint names and insurance premiums are up to date; at least money won't be a problem. Next, she tackles the desktop PC in his 'den', shuddering at the word; could have been worse, 'man cave' springs to mind. Checks out the search history; as expected it's clear, next Angie delves into his favourites.

"Aha", just as she suspected, masses of porn sites. An hour passes unnoticed. Angie's sexual horizons widen substantially; hand in knickers she fingers herself into an orgasmic stupor. Over the following evenings, Angie wades through the long list, eventually aware she's become fixated on spanking scenarios. Strange, her late spouse didn't once attempt to smack her bottom, although Angie would've been up for it; even hinted a couple of times, only to be blanked - seems he couldn't cope with real-life female sexuality. In lieu she'd read erotic spanking stories, pleasuring herself with a vibrator while flicking the pages in search of what were once quaintly termed 'dirty bits'. Now, watching his bookmarked spanking movies, she yearns to make such fantasies a reality.

Another fascinating find in the favourites list is a web-dating site, 'More than Vanilla'. It doesn't seem her erstwhile partner had an account, preferring to remain a voyeur, Angie can't resist some window shopping.

Why not give it a go? After all, it's not as if she's going to easily find a sexual partner at work or among long-standing friends and clubbing and pubbing were never Angie's thing. Time to be bold girl. She forks out for a month's trial subscription and posts an honest - perhaps naïve, this is uncharted territory - profile.

Not expecting much response Angie is astonished a few days later, after swiping past the usual nerds and no-hopers, to discover a fascinating male has got in contact. Good-looking guy too if his picture is any indication. He suggests an in-person meeting. Angie hadn't been wholly serious about signing up, but now it appears the idea has its own momentum.

Not so many miles away the man in question reckons this could be exactly the woman he's been seeking. There's something about her authentic resume and unedited picture, perhaps those beguiling green eyes? Sometimes you just feel it. A rendezvous is agreed.

What a pleasant surprise to meet a guy who listens to what she says appears interested in her as a person and looks into her eyes instead of talking to her tits. Angie is curvy up front and behind, narrow waist, lovely legs, face framed by dark hair and more of a catch than she knows.

She's always liked distinguished older men with grey hair and an understated air of authority. Cameron, her prospective beau, ticks all these boxes. Angie fancies him physically, to be blunt, she's more than eager for sex.

Cameron is equally enamoured, quickly aware Angie shares his sexual perspective. Over the years he's developed a well-attuned sixth sense. It's subliminal, initially in the body language, confirmed by nuances of conversation. Where he leads, she'll follow.

Their date is a resounding success. Cameron chivalrously walks her to the metro station where Angie takes a gamble, responding to his tentative farewell kiss with daring fervour. He quickly matches her in intensity; their bodies pressed tightly against each other, hands roving. Her breasts bloom and pussy dampens, his erection presses urgently into her thigh. Angie decides he's the person to make her darkly erotic dreams come true.

While the convention of waiting until the third date before sex may suit some, by their second encounter getting it on seems entirely natural. Back to his place, then.

So great to have a man go down on her with genuine enthusiasm; when her husband could be bothered it was as if he were reading from a manual. Oh goodness, such a long time since anyone... Yeah, work on that spot. Hallelujah... Denied sex for so long Angie can't last long. Oh goodness, he licks her perineum, tongue flicking that cute rosebud, where's this going? Softly caresses her labia; a finger enters, then two! That does it; Angie can't help but succumb to a noisy climax.

"OK mister, get that cock in me right now". She tugs urgently at Cameron's belt, gleefully freeing an impressively stiff and upright member. He produces a condom, tears the wrapper with his teeth and entrances Angie by sliding it slowly over his prick.

"Want to go on top?" Cameron enquires solicitously; inferring that since it's their first time she might wish to control how events unfold.

"No, I'm fine." Thank you for that tact and consideration, another time for sure, thinks Angie. The thing is, sometimes a girl just wants to feel the weight of a man between her thighs. The good old missionary position ensures maximum penetration. She pushes herself back on the bed, knees spread and lifted in wanton invitation. Pulls him closer, guiding his erection towards her lust-slickened snatch.

"Just do me," Angie commands. So, he does. Slowly at first, easing in his entire length then withdrawing until only the tip remains inside. Angie huffs with impatience, wrapping her ankles around his waist to draw him in tighter. "Come on, stop tormenting me, I need it all," she pleads, voice shaking with longing.

"You want this hard cock inside you?" He's making her beg.

"Yes please," she whispers obediently,

"Well, since you ask so sweetly." Slowly Cameron pushes just the head in, gripped instantly by her velvet pussy. Then further, working a fraction more of his cock inch by inch into Angie's super-sensitive pussy creating waves of bliss.

Angie moans ecstatically; spurred on by her unabashed excitement. Cameron thrusts vigorously, balls deep, grinding against her clit, taking her to the brink of orgasm. Then unexpectedly slows the pace, no need to rush to a conclusion, make it clear who's calling the shots. Angie's frustration is almost palpable.

"Fuck me harder," she demands.

"You'll get what you're given and be grateful," he growls, keeping her teetering on the edge of climax, denying Angie the release she yearns for. Point amply made, Cameron ups the pace racing towards the finish. Eyes rolling, face and neck flushed red and completely lost in the moment she achieves a shuddering climax; within seconds Cameron follows. Oh, that was amazing, thinks Angie, he's passed the audition and got the gig. A man who understands, able to take me where I need to go. The thought of his prick pushing insistently against her still virgin arsehole flashes through her mind. Where did that come from? No matter, the adventure has begun.

Months pass, and their relationship blossoms. Confident and assertive, Cameron treats Angie with complete equality in public, consummately taking control in private.

"Just you wait until later," he threatens one day when Angie light-heartedly teases him. There's a perceptible edge to his voice, not dangerous, but rather an implicit challenge: how far are you prepared to push this and take the consequences? The very idea sets her motor running, creating a surge of damp desire.

No great surprise then, to be subsequently hauled across Cameron's lap and hand spanked for some confected misdemeanour. Angie's chastisement follows the time-honoured ritual, Cameron first applying his palm to her clothed behind, causing little more than a gentle smart. There must be more to it than this, she thinks sulkily. Most certainly, her dress is raised, and skimpy knickers provide scant protection, Angie's buttocks are rendered pink and stinging. Pinned over his knee, she wriggles animatedly as Cameron pulls down her panties and, smacks her bare bottom until it glows red. The aphrodisiac effect is instant, their subsequent coupling frenetic; a fuse has been lit, the experience far exceeding her expectations. Angie is keen to experience further chastisements; better still, she has a plan...

A couple of weeks later it's Cameron's birthday and Angie has devised something special by way of celebration. Hence him opening the front door to discover a woman mysteriously clad in an ankle-length coat and carrying a strangely shaped parcel. Once inside this concealment is cast aside to reveal a very risqué dress. Low cut at the front to showcase a generous cleavage, short enough to reveal stocking tops if she bends over.

"Wow," he exclaims, "are you my present?"

"Sort of, I'm sure you'll enjoy unwrapping me," Angie favours her beau with a sultry and seductive look.

"Sort of?" Cameron is intrigued and amused.

"You might also want to take a closer look at that brown paper package tied up with string."

"Very well Mary Poppins", Cameron does so and discovers a feather duster.

"Since I don't intend to do any cleaning, I thought you might find an alternative use for the bamboo handle," suggests Angie archly. An open invitation - make that exhortation - to take a comely wench to task. Fortunately, Cameron proves master of the moment. Angie is held firmly, kissed fiercely and her boobs freed from the ridiculously tight bodice. Ah, those breasts, pert with erect nipples... Concentrate man!

"You're an extremely naughty and provocative minx in dire need of serious discipline," announces Cameron to Angie's evident delight.

"Oh sir, please don't be too strict with me, I'm not really a bad girl," replies Angie, enthusiastically embracing her subservient role while making no more than a token protest as she's manoeuvred over the back of a substantial sofa.

"How embarrassing!" Angie continues to act the part as her knickers are removed and he bends her compliant form purposefully to his will.

"Hands on the cushions and stop squirming," commands Cameron. A cool draft wafts across her now naked moons. Her man stands back and flexes the cane. Showtime.

Cameron takes his time, tapping the rod lightly across her proffered buttocks, deliberately intensifying Angie's apprehension. Heart thumping, adrenalin flowing, she awaits her fate. This is what you wanted, she thinks, what you dreamed. Now it's going to happen and will probably hurt.

"You know you can call a halt at any time?" says Cameron, certain she won't. Wordlessly she responds by pushing her bottom out towards the whippy cane. Short of sitting down - not she suspects an option any time soon - and handwriting an invitation, Angie can't make her acquiescence any more explicit.

He swishes the bamboo loudly through the air in front of her making Angie fidget nervously, dreading the prospect of blazing lines bisecting her pale moons, yet contrarily wishing he'd bloody well get it over with.

"Keep still," Cameron instructs, "knees together, legs perfectly straight and lift your bottom high. Perhaps counting each stroke out loud will help you concentrate on proper presentation?"

"How many?"

"You'll know if you add them up accurately. Any errors and I'll happily start from the beginning". I bet you will, thinks Angie, prudently keeping this sarcastic observation private, is nonetheless thrilled by his commanding tone.

Thwack! "Jesus! Sorry, one," Angie somehow controls her breathing and prepares to receive the next stroke, each successive impact immediately followed with either a sharp intake of breath or an exclamation of pain, "bloody hell..."

The first few welts counted in a normal voice before an increasingly shrill calling out of numbers five, six and seven. How many more she wonders? Angie's poor bottom is becoming increasingly hot and sore, yet she's never been so turned on.

Enduring well for a beginner reckons Cameron admiringly, striving to achieve a balance of unchallenged mastery and downright sadism; better stop at dozen though.

"Twelve," Angie tenses, expecting further whacks. As the truth of her ordeal's end gradually dawns, she risks a glance over her shoulder.

"That'll do nicely," he smiles, adding ominously, "for the present. You may stand and examine your behind in the mirror."

"Matter of opinion," sulks Angie. Blimey, no wonder her poor posterior stings so much. Livid parallel lines decorate her derriere from the crown of her buttocks to the tops of her thighs.

"You might want to rub." Well of course she does! Gently soothes the heat-radiating cheeks. Cameron pulls her close, his hand between her thighs. "As I suspected, sopping wet."

"Really?" Angie manages a fair approximation of wide-eyed innocence. If there were such a thing as an excitement meter it would be red lining.

"What's the reason for this evident arousal? Cause and effect perhaps; you like having your bottom attended to, don't you? Is it the pain itself, the humiliating punishment position or simply your complete surrender?"

Angie pauses to reflect before replying. "A perfect combination of all three - as I'm sure you're aware, apparently having some expertise in these matters. The bigger question is what you are going to do next?"

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm going to do. You took that caning courageously, I believe some positive reinforcement of good behaviour is in order."

Content to continue her surrender Angie allows Cameron to propel her kneeling onto the couch and push her thighs apart, lewdly revealing the dewy portal between. Sliding easily past engorged labia, he stretches her pussy with his girth. Grabs those bounteous boobs and twists the nipples between finger and thumb to elicit gasps of pleasure.

Responding with uninhibited abandon, Angie rotates her hips, welcoming each successive thrust of his rock-hard cock, exhorting her beau in the most indecorous terms to increase the pace. Head tilted back, pupils dilated, her staccato breaths come ever more quickly. Angie moans incoherently, lost in the moment, climaxes ecstatically, as Cameron's come floods her, overflowing down post-coital quivering thighs. Each time her orgasm seems to subside he pulses inside, and she comes again, whimpering helplessly, body tingling, electric and alive.

"Can I have some more please?" she ventures after a short interlude of post-coital bliss.

"Of what, caning or fucking?"

"Both!"

"Certainly not the former."

"Meany," Angie pouts in disappointment.

"Don't want you to become a pain junky," he cautions, "those tender stripes across your bum will provide a reminder for a while yet," Cameron holds her close. "Besides, I've an entirely new spanking activity in prospect."

"Do tell," Angie answers eagerly.

"And ruin the surprise?" Cameron smiles enigmatically. A butt plug and lube are already packed in his travelling bag, a weekend away pre-booked. His original intuitive assessment of Angie's true sexuality amply confirmed, her new man has some radical lifestyle changes in mind for this merry widow.

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