Life Begins at 40byfailte402©
At 40 years old, Casey no longer expected Prince Charming to come charging up and sweep her off her feet. In fact, she didn't expect him to arrive at all. There are certain times in a woman's life when she knows that the possibility of some events are over, and this was one of them. So, why was she so excited about the emails she'd received from Stan? Seriously, it was re-friggin-diculous!
Casey felt too old for a casual, flirty romance, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped some kind of romance was still possible. After all, she wasn't ugly. She wasn't a prom queen, or a leggy model, and by no stretch of the imagination could she be confused with the awful stereotype of womanhood that pervades the media these days. She was, however, pretty in her own right, with cinnamon-brown hair, cut to her chin in a short and easy to maintain style. She had deep, hazel green eyes, and pretty good skin that didn't need makeup as a rule, although eyeliner made her feel 'dressed up'. Her problem, if one must be defined, was her size. BBW is the term most in use now, but she liked full-figured. Her chest was her most redeeming physical feature, and it helped to make the rest of her seem proportional. If she could just find a man who appreciated her as she was, she believed her chances that romance would find her increased exponentially.
Casey met Stan through an online personal ad. It took several months of false starts to build up the courage to submit the ad, and when she finally did, WOW! The vast number of responses took her breath away. Soon, though, it became problematic, since most men seemed to want a sexual encounter, or at the very least, wanted the conversation to turn sexual immediately. It all made Casey feel very uncomfortable, like a piece of meat, a hole presumably waiting to be filled. Did no one want her for her personality? Did anyone even read her profile? How did anyone expect to find lasting happiness by banging the first person that came along - before discovering that person's true self?
Large women had always been attractive to Stan. He admired the shape and jiggle of a high, round butt, the heft of DDD breasts, and the soft round belly ready to cushion him as he lay between full thighs. But Casey's ad was different from the others he'd responded to in the past. She had given her profile sketch so much thought that her personality glowed through the words. He found her sarcastic humor irresistible. He loved how she described herself as a feminist, yet between the lines he gleaned her desire to be cared for, cherished, even controlled by another. The notions she had about men were ruefully accurate, at least when applied to the majority. He hoped she'd find him an exception to the rule.
To Casey, Stan was the exception to the rule. His first response to her ad was to praise her intelligence in a truly meaningful way, by admitting that he was attracted to her physical description, but intrigued by her honesty about it. He said she didn't draw on any of the coy euphemisms other women of size employed. She clearly had a grasp of language and how to use it properly, which captivated his attention, he wrote. Casey was instantly hooked!
The first messages from Stan gave Casey some clues into his personality. He loved animals, travel and homemade chipotle chili. He preferred his exercise in the form of outdoor activities, but went to the gym to keep his doctor happy. He'd been married for nine years, but his wife had died in a fiery car accident. Everything he told her about himself illustrated the loving nature of his character: his easygoing attitudes contrasted with his impatience for bad drivers, his traditional view of manners versus his admiration and support of feminism.
He was refreshingly frank in all matters, but never treated sex as a standard topic for their nightly messages. In fact, she had almost begun to worry that he wasn't interested in any kind of physical relationship until one night about three months after they 'met'. As they were instant messaging, he asked her out of the blue when was the last time she'd masturbated. A little stunned, she responded, "last night." He asked her to tell him about it, saying that he hoped she wasn't offended, but he was so curious he couldn't help but ask.
Casey felt self-conscious, but decided that describing masturbation via email was harmless enough. Then she decided to be as frank and graphic as possible. It would either cement or doom their relationship, she thought. To put some of the pressure back on him, though, she agreed only if he would do the same. Stan promised, and she began her tale.
"I read through some stories on Literotica, which always drive me wild. I lay on my bed in my low-necked silk nightie, and rubbed my nipples through the whisper-thin fabric. I pulled and twisted my nipples, and lifted my breasts to suck them myself, (an advantage of large breasts!). One of my favorite ways to masturbate is to use my vibrating dildo. I rubbed it along my slit, making it slippery and slick, then slowly, gently rubbed it at the opening of my ass. Turned up full blast, it can send me over the edge by itself if I let it. But last night I wanted to come several times, so I carefully held back the speed to just a minor vibration. I pulled my breasts out over the top of my nightie, which made them stand up tall. I rubbed and tickled myself all over, then put one hand on my pussy and one on my right tit. I reached down to increase the vibe speed and started sliding my fingers along my slit. My clit was sticking out through my pussy hair as if it were reaching for my fingers to caress it, so I did, rubbing it first with one finger, then two - one on each side. It only took a few strokes before my first orgasm hit, a tiny little one that made my body jerk, but left me wanting more."
Her story continued for several more orgasms, but Stan was hardly reading anymore. He had his cock out from the first sentence and was jacking it for all he was worth. As he erupted into projectile spurts, he knew he had to meet this woman! He didn't want to spook her, though, so he waited through several more weeks of daily emails, with lots of descriptive episodes, before asking her to meet him.
One particular conversation involved Casey's explanation of why she felt her relationships never seemed to work out. Sex was fun and she enjoyed it, but she always felt inhibited, not just by her body's size, but her apparent inability to have an orgasm by someone else's stimulation. It was one of those conversations Casey thought had gone too far, and she hoped Stan didn't remember it.
The agreed to meet at Carlucci's for drinks, and if they each liked what they saw, they would stay for dinner. Stan arrived first, and tipped the waiter an extra twenty for the perfect table: not too central, but not hidden in some corner by the kitchen. He wanted Casey's first impression of him to be one of comfort, not fear that she'd be jumped by a raving sex maniac at the first opportunity.
As Casey walked in the door, Stan knew her immediately. It wasn't by what she was wearing, which she'd told him the night before, but by the way she looked across the room directly at him. Both of them had recognized the other instantly, that's how honestly they'd been with each other. Casey knew in her heart that no other relationship would ever be the same.
Stan greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and helped her to her seat. "I ordered for us already. I hope you don't mind," he said softly. He was suddenly worried that she might take offense at his small streak of chauvinism.
"No, I don't mind," she said, just as softly. God, she thought, I have described my genitalia to him, why do I feel so shy NOW?
Dinner came in three courses, her favorites, as he'd garnered from previous conversations. It began with an antipasto of tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella with basil and balsamic vinegar, followed by spaghetti Bolognese, and finished with cannolli and espresso. Simple and delicious, the perfect meal to get to know each other, Casey thought.
"Now it's time for a gift," said Stan.
"What a coincidence, I have one for you, too," laughed Casey. "You first."
Stan handed her a small box from the custom jewelry store downtown. Inside was a pair of earrings, sterling filigree, with a small emerald in each one.
"Holy Cow!" she whispered. "They're beautiful, but..."
"Hey, before you get all - 'I can't accept them, they're too expensive'- they're not, and I wanted you to have something stunning to remember our first face-to-face date, so don't argue!" Stan said with a smile. He felt like he'd just won the lottery, the pleasure of her reaction was so intense.
"Ok. Wow, thank you, Stan, they're beautiful." Casey removed her hoops and put on the new earrings. "How do they look?"
"Well, they didn't look like much in the box, but now that they have a proper showcase, they look fabulous." Stan reached over to kiss her hand.
Casey's heart was aflutter, overwhelmed not only by the generous gift, but also by the look of lusty admiration in Stan's eyes. Suddenly, she remembered the gift she had for him, and became terribly self-conscious. The idea for the gift came from that first amazing night of mutual masturbation and stories they had shared. It was the first time she'd ever thought to give a man something so personal and suggestive.
"Here, I hope you like it. It's seems kind of corny now, and doesn't compare at all to what you just gave me, but, oh, hell, here." She shoved a large, flat box in his hands.
Stan shook the hand he still held and said, "Gifts are always wonderful, no matter the cost, right? I know I'll love it." He lifted the top of the box and began to laugh. Inside were a navy blue silk negligee, a jar of chipotle powder, and a coupon for a home-cooked dinner at Chez Casey, street clothes optional.
At Casey's blush, Stan laughed even harder. He said, "I almost did the exact same thing, but I didn't want you to think I was pressuring you."
"Do you think I'm pressuring you?" asked Casey anxiously.
"Hell, no, sweetheart. I would love to eat chili at your house, and we can save the nightie until we're both ready, ok?"
Stan saw Casey visibly relax, and realized how much it had taken for her to make that first move toward a sexual relationship. It made him think about what she'd told him of her past experiences, how inhibited she had always felt about her body. Clearly, their Internet discussions had loosened some of her inhibitions. She was finally giving herself permission to explore her sexuality. He hoped the trend continued.
Two weeks later, Stan arrived at Casey's house with a six-pack of Heineken, roses, and a bag of gourmet dog biscuits. "Make the dog happy, the owner is happy," he said with grin. As Casey greeted him at the door, he had his first glimpse of her at-home personality. The tiny house she owned was neat and tastefully decorated, but all the décor had some special meaning to her. It wasn't just bric-a-brac from Pier One. The walls displayed needlework her grandmother had done, or pictures of places she'd traveled. The furniture consisted of a blend of family antiques and modern overstuffed seating, a pleasant mix of old and new. Closeness, comfort, and warmth permeated the rooms. He wondered what her bedroom looked like.
Casey was out-of-her-mind nervous as Stan walked in, and tremendously turned on. She couldn't keep her thoughts off of their last email yesterday. In it, Stan had described how this evening would go, and had told her, demanded, that she do as he ask. God, how it excited her, but she was also beyond apprehensive. Did she know him well enough to play out this scenario? Could she trust him not to hurt her, either physically or emotionally? "What, am I crazy?" she cried silently. "Well, it's too late to worry about it now, stupid. You've already let him in the house! Besides, you are too revved up yourself to think of backing out now."
The evening began innocuously enough. They dined on chili and beer, and decided to wait to indulge in the triple chocolate truffles Casey had made. After tidying up, they took the dog for a stroll around the neighborhood, admiring the historic houses and well-kept gardens. As they turned toward her home again, Casey began to feel jittery, anticipating the night to come.
Alex let Casey get the dog fed and settled with a chew toy. Now there was no reason for her to delay the rest of the evening. He knew the anticipation was beginning to wear on her, feeling her hands shake as he led her to the couch.
"Now comes the thing I wrote about last night, my deepest, most special fantasy," he whispered as he nuzzled her ear. "Are you ready to begin?"
"I guess I'm ready, Alex, but I don't really know what you want me to do," she said in a voice strained with anxiety and excitement.
"Then you've learned the first lesson of the evening very quickly. Knowing what is to come prevents you from really experiencing our first time together, so I decided to just eliminate that problem. So, first you must agree to do everything I ask, even if it makes you uncomfortable. Do you agree?"
Casey hesitated for a second or two, trying to see if there was any real danger to his request. "If I say no, what will happen?"
"A valid question, sweetheart. The answer is nothing will happen. No pressure, no arm-twisting. I'll just go home now. Is that what you want?"
"No, God no," she cried, laughing. "Ok, I agree to do everything you ask, as long as you promise not to hurt me. I've read those stories, too, you know. Clamps and chains and whipping are not of any interest to me."
"Fair enough, no whips or chains. But from now on, you cannot make any other caveat to the evening's adventures. You must trust me to do what will make us both feel good."
She nodded, leaving Alex with a sense of relief at her acquiescence, and challenged by her calmness. That's the first thing to go, he said to himself. "Show me your bedroom, please Casey," he demanded.
A little nervous at his tone, Casey complied, leading him up the stairs. When they reached the landing, he stopped her. Alex had some preparations to make to the room, and knew that waiting in the hallway would increase both her curiosity and her trepidation. He pulled her to him in a long, lingering kiss, then walked into the room and closed the door.
Alex quickly opened the drawer to the nightstand and found the two things he knew were hidden there: her vibrator and a sleeping mask. He removed a small package from his jacket pocket and laid it on the bed next to the other items. He lit the candles in the room and placed the low-backed vanity chair in the center of the space, away from any other furniture. Finally, he removed his clothing and crawled under the covers. "You may come in now, Casey," he called to her.
She entered the room and gasped to see him in her bed, then smiled to see the items laid out on the bedspread. She looked at him and waited for her next instructions, thinking that this was more exciting than she ever imagined.
"Please stand at the foot of the bed and remove your clothing, as slowly and seductively as you can."
Grinning widely in laughter and a little shyness, Casey surreptitiously removed her loafers as she began to unbutton her silk blouse. She had a flash vision in her head of stripper music playing, which made her giggle. At Alex's frown, she tried to sober her expression, but it was difficult. Button after button came free, until the blouse was hanging open. She shrugged her shoulders, making it slide down her arms to her fingertips, then casually tossed it to the floor. Her pants were next, a snap and slowly lowered zipper. She decided it would be sexier to turn around, showing off her butt as the pants sank to the carpet. She was SO glad she'd worn the new thong panties, purchased on a whim just the day before. She looked over her shoulder at Alex, and was surprised to see the expression of lust on his face. The bedcovers were tenting, too.
"I must be doing a good job."
"No more talking! Get on with it." Alex was disgruntled at his lack of control. She was just so incredibly sexy.
Casey faced him again. The bra was, unfortunately she felt, one of the industrial-strength-type she needed to keep everything in place, but at least it was a pretty black satin. She lowered first one strap and then the other, and reached behind her to unhook the clasps.
"Wait," Alex demanded. "Leave the clasps connected, and sit in the chair."
She sat with her back to Alex. The chair was cool to Casey's skin. The skin not covered by the thong very sensitive to temperature and texture, and she felt herself wetting the fabric of the seat.
Alex rose from the bed and approached the chair so Casey couldn't see him. He yanked the sleeping mask over her eyes, startling her. He pulled her tits out of the bra cups. The mask, the straps of her bra holding her arms to her sides, and the sensation of being seen but not seeing were all causing ripples of sexual tension to run along her spine. Alex added to the spice by slowly, achingly slowly, running his hands along her shoulders and neck.
"You mentioned this several times as being your most sensitive spot. I can see that you were telling the truth by the catch in your breath and the hardness of your nipples. Now I must discover what else drives you wild."
God, she thought, now what? Casey's heart felt like it might leap right out of her chest in anticipation of Stan's next 'discovery'.
She heard the vibrator began to hum behind her. Alex leaned down to start at her feet, leisurely sliding the tip of it along her toes. As he drew it up her leg, he watched her face for signs. The inner thigh was one of her spots, he thought as goose bumps rose up on her legs. He quickly moved to her butt, careful to avoid the deep crack barely covered by the thong. The vibrator tickled its way along her sides up to her shoulders, and she jerked at the sensations. At her neck, he made feather-light touches with the vibrator, never making full contact. He could see the tiny hairs standing up and goose bumps forming on her skin. Her breath was becoming more like panting, and she groaned a long, drawn out whimper of desire.
"Lie down on the bed spread-eagled and take off the thong. I don't want any obstructions around that beautiful pussy." Casey felt so turned on she wasn't even shy about exposing herself that way. She lay on the center of the bed, spreading her arms and legs widely. Stan opened the small package he had brought and quickly used the four silk ropes to tie Casey to the bedposts. She gasped as she felt him strap her hands and feet, but fear dissipated as he leaned over to kiss and suck on her nipples as he removed her bra.
"I've strapped you down to help you," he said. "In this way, I can pleasure you beyond what you think you can handle. There will be no touch but stimulation from now on, and you are powerless to stop it. Don't fight it, just relax and experience the intensity without fear. And just to reassure you that it will be nothing but pleasure, remember this. If you want me to stop, you must say 'popcorn', and I will stop. Saying 'stop' won't work - that's a word we can play with, ok?"
Casey nodded, shivering with excitement, and tried not to be afraid. It was so weird, waiting in the dark for Stan's next move. It took all her courage to just lie there quietly, waiting.
"Excellent, my sweet. I can see you are ready to begin." Stan used his fingertips to slowly trace the outline of her breasts, watching the nipples contract and grow tall. He continued down her body, discovering the ticklish parts and the sensual spots along the way. At her feet, Stan bent down to suck her toes, then began to lick a trail up her leg. Skipping the junction of her thighs, her continued to lick up to her beautiful tits. He held one in his hands, squeezing gently to make it stand out taut, and covered the nipple with long, wet laps of his tongue. Reaching over her body to the other one, he pulled it close to the first and caressed both nipples with one swipe. Casey's body was in constant motion, trying to entice him to touch her pussy. He laughed as she inadvertently pulled her breasts from his hands.