Lonely MILF: A Sexual Awakening

Yes, he was oblivious to the inner me. Yes, he hadn't ever been overly thoughtful. Yes, he didn't really understand my needs.

But I loved him.

And he loved me.

But was love enough?

Especially this pale variety of affection we shared, with no real depth to it and never any fireworks?

My orgasms on my own while picturing myself with Sam had been way more powerful than any of the ones I'd ever had before.

My orgasms with Jack had been... nonexistent. Nary a one. Not ever.

My libido had been awakened, and now the quick cum deposits from my husband weren't at all fulfilling... although in all fairness they never really had been... although now that was becoming more important to me... until recently, I'd just brushed my dissatisfaction aside.

Now I wanted more.

Now I needed more.

This and many other confusing thoughts were spinning in my head the next morning as I dropped the kids off at school and returned home so I could get dressed to go and meet Samantha.

I considered dressing casually, to make a subtle statement that I wasn't falling under her spell and that I wanted no more than friendship from her. Instead I did the opposite, bedecking myself in a short, formfitting dress with a provocative neckline and sheer beige nylons: a fashion statement that while tasteful, really showcased all my assets.

I arrived early and waited, trying to be patient.

I fidgeted for what felt like forever although it was only about five minutes, and she arrived precisely at nine, dressed in what could only be described as 'Holy fuck'. She had on a white blouse, a plaid skirt and mocha coloured pantyhose, and she looked utterly beautiful.

She looked me up and down with an appreciative smile, sat down and said, "You look very pretty today."

"You look like every boy's dream come true," I countered.

"How about every woman's dream come true?" she asked bluntly, making my cheeks burn red.

"I imagine that's also true," I agreed.

The waitress showed up to take our orders, interrupting the shy awkwardness I was feeling.

When she left, Samantha gushed, "I'm so happy you agreed to meet me."

"I'm flattered you invited me," I replied, then wondered why I used the word 'flattered'.

"Do you know why I asked you here?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't," I deflected, which was partly true and yet partly not. I had a pretty good hunch why she'd invited me, but what if I was wrong?

"Be honest," she said, looking into me with those sultry eyes, "you do know, don't you?"

"I have an idea, but I might be wrong," I admitted, shyly, sheepishly, yet totally honestly.

"Do you like your idea?" she asked, neither confirming nor denying my assumptions, my hopes, only making me feel more insecure.

I answered nervously, "Yes and no."

"How so?" she asked, "please explain," gazing right into my soul.

"Um... I... um..." I stammered, totally not knowing what to say... fearful that if I blurted out how she affected me I might be rebuffed, yet if I offered something about wanting a platonic friendship she might see it as my rebuffing her... I knew what I wanted to say, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure that saying it wouldn't be a disaster.

"Did you read the story I sent you?" she asked, helping me out.

"Yes."

"What did you think of it?" she asked.

"It was... interesting," I answered, which was a vague and cowardly answer, I know.

"How was it interesting?" she asked, continuing to ask me questions I found awkward to answer.

"Seeing how the strong woman weakened... I guess," I answered timidly.

"I see," she said nodding, then looking thoughtful for a few seconds.

She then said abruptly, placing her nylon-clad and shoeless feet on my lap beneath the table. "Go ahead, massage my feet for me, Liz."

My eyes went wide.

That line was right out of the stories.

I was indeed the older woman being seduced, and she the younger seductress.

This was the moment.

I knew it was.

Even though this overture wasn't overtly sexual... it was a test.

If I complied with her request, I'd become drawn into her powerful web of seduction and it would only be a matter of time before it got more complicated.

If I declined right now, it would likely end right here before it'd really gotten started.

She encouraged me, as if reading my mind, as if knowing the internal struggle I was having with myself, "Go ahead, Liz, massage my feet."

Deciding to ignore my own theory, deciding this wasn't any such significant moment, I'd just thought it was, I took her left foot into my hand. (In retrospect, I realize I hadn't truly thought any such thing, I'd just told myself that so I could hide from myself the life-altering decision I'd just made.)

"Thank you. So back to the story, what did you like the most about it?" she asked.

"Honestly?" I asked, knowing now with one hundred percent confidence she was seducing me, and now trying to process how much I actually wanted to be seduced. (Like I just said: in this case retrospect wasn't long in coming, but I'd made my choice and I refused to regret making it, as I allowed myself to be led into my new future.)

"Yes, Liz," she said softly. "Tell me how it made you feel."

"Those are two different questions," I joked, trying to make this awkward and yet exciting conversation appear to be more normal.

"True enough," she laughed softly, just as the waitress arrived with our coffees, glancing down and seeing me massaging Sam's foot.

My red face went redder as the waitress gave me a look with an arched eyebrow, but she didn't say anything before walking away. I got embarrassed easily and hated ever to make a scene. Truth was I was very passive, which was proven by the fact I was obediently massaging a teenager's feet in a restaurant.

"So, let's go ahead with how it made you feel," Sam encouraged me, not at all fazed by the waitress's obvious knowledge of the massage.

"Horny." I decided to answer bluntly.

"And what got you horny?' she asked smoothly like a therapist would do, not at all surprised by my answer.

"I don't know," I said, which was mostly a lie and yet kind of true.

"I think you do know," she said, as I switched to massaging her other foot. "I won't judge you, so don't worry and just tell me what's in your head."

"It was just kind of hot," I said, trying to avoid personal answers.

"What made it hot? What made you see it that way?" she asked, shepherding me back towards personal.

"It really got me going to see the power the younger girl exerted over the older woman," I answered, which was completely true.

"Thank you: that was an honest and direct reply. Did you see yourself as the older woman?"

"Kind of," I prevaricated.

"Not direct at all that time, but 'kind of' is a yes," she asserted.

"Yes, you're right; I was the older woman," I admitted, "and... you were the... the... other one," I finished, unable bring myself to say the powerful one, which would have been even more honest. My face was burning in embarrassment and I wanted to run away and hide. My pussy was burning with excitement, wanting to succumb right here and now. These polar opposite feelings seemed rather parallel to the older woman's in the story.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" The question was quiet and low key, as if she were gentling a nervous and excitable filly being trained to a halter for the first time.

"No," I admitted.

"But you're curious to explore?" she asked serenely.

"Somewhat," I answered, which was a fair answer. When I was horny, like now, God yes; when I wasn't horny, which seemed to be the case less and less in the past several days, God no.

I should note that until recently sex was never that important to me.

I sucked cock sometimes; I got fucked sometimes; I got myself off sometimes; that was the extent of it. My sexually boring husband was a perfect match for me.

I was now realizing it had been an act.

A means to an end.

I hadn't 'wasted my time' fantasizing too often.

I'd seldom been so horny I just had to get fucked by Jack (useless) or get myself off (usually not much better).

In truth, I had pleasured myself more times in this last several weeks than during the prior six months, easily.

"What does 'somewhat' mean?" she asked.

"This conversation is getting awkward," I finally pointed out.

"If you don't want to continue with it, I'll stop asking you questions," she offered, which surprised me. In the stories, the seductress is a predator that attacks her prey's weaknesses. She then added, "But I think you want to answer these questions, don't you, my pet?"

There it was.

The real intention.

The term used in so many of the lesbian stories I'd recently read.

A term that established a sexual hierarchy.

A term that clarified her true intent.

A term that had wetness literally gushing into my panties.

"It's just awkward to talk about," I finally admitted.

"I know it is," she nodded, "but only through discussion can you explore what you're really feeling inside."

"I guess," I said.

"Can I ask you a frank question?"

"So far hasn't been frank?" I asked with a smirk, getting more relaxed with the conversation.

"Okay," she laughed, "fair enough. Can I do something rather forward?"

"Sure," I said, curious what she could do that would be considered 'rather forward'. The answer came a moment later as she reached her stockinged foot under my dress and placed it directly on my wet crotch. I moaned on contact.

"Why are you so wet?" she asked, as her foot remained on my pussy.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Yes, you do," she said, tapping my pussy with the ball of her foot three times.

"Oh, God," I moaned, my pussy being touched for the first time ever by someone other than my husband.

This was definitely the moment.

Of course, I didn't push it away like a good wife would.

I spread my legs a tad wider and just enjoyed the unaccustomed pleasure... which was happening with two older women chatting just across the aisle from us... luckily oblivious.

"I've never felt like this before," I finally answered. She hadn't asked me a question, but I couldn't just sit there and pretend she was having no effect on me.

"And how do you feel? Not at the moment, but recently?" she asked, slowly moving her foot in a circular motion.

"Horny all the time," I admitted with another soft moan.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because of you," I blurted out, just as the waitress arrived and we let those words linger in the air.

She smiled, leaving her foot resting on my pussy as the waitress set out our food and refilled our coffees.

Once we were alone again, she took a bite of her pancake before asking, "Why me specifically?"

I was hungry and needed to eat, but I also felt compelled to answer the question, even though I was risking the possibility of some very painful rejection, "I don't know. You're pretty, you wear nylons, you seem to be into me, you turn me on..." I paused before I added, hoping to lighten the mood, "and your foot is resting on my pussy."

"Do you want me to move it?" she asked, as she moved her foot up and down, bringing me new pleasure.

"Definitely not," I moaned in response.

"Did you have any lesbian fantasies before meeting me?" she asked, teasing my pussy ever so lightly, as I reached for my fork.

"No," I admitted.

"I'm flattered," she smiled, as I cut into a sausage and wondered whether I was doing something symbolic.

"I don't know how, but you awakened a side of me I didn't know existed," I admitted, figuring there was no point in holding anything back anymore. From the moment she'd arrived this morning, her demeanor had communicated nothing but kind and knowledgeable encouragement, without a hint of judging me, except perhaps for when I wasn't being totally open and honest.

"What side is that?" she asked.

"My bisexual side," I answered, before adding, disparaging my husband, "or perhaps my desire-to-have-orgasms side."

"Let me guess," she said, as I ate a sausage, realizing the irony of cutting a sausage in pieces, "your husband doesn't get you off."

"No, he doesn't," I admitted.

"And he doesn't go down on you," she correctly assumed.

"Once a year, for an entire minute."

"Have you ever come from sex?"

"Not unless I was alone," I answered.

She sighed.

"Not even earlier boyfriends?"

"Jack is the only man I've ever been with," I said, before adding, "the only person, actually."

"Oh my," she said, this being the first thing I'd confessed that had surprised her.

"I know," I said, knowing how rare it was only to have been with one person during your entire life.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, each of us in deep thought. She seemed to be pondering my various revelations, I was trying to eat while ignoring the foot resting, but no longer moving, on my pussy.

As she finished eating she moved her foot away, which was a great disappointment, and said, "Eat up, you're coming to my place."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes," she nodded, in a tone forbidding any discussion on the matter. She waved the waitress over and said, "Check... now, please."

The waitress went away, and she placed her foot back onto my pussy and relented; I was allowed to make up my own mind, "You do want to come back to my place, don't you?"

A chance to back out.

Another moment.

This one likely the point of no return.

"Yes," I admitted, "yes, I do," after a very brief contemplation.

"You've read some stories: do you understand what coming back to my place means?" she asked, rubbing my pussy again.

"Yes, I believe I do," I answered, assuming it meant the obvious.

"Say the words. What does it mean?" she asked, putting extra pressure on my pussy.

"It means that I'll become your pet," I answered, my body making my decisions for me.

"That's correct. And how does that make you feel?" she asked, enjoying forcing me to open up about exactly how I felt.

"Excited," I answered, before adding, "and guilty... and horny... and embarrassed... and horny and... umm... humiliated."

"You said horny twice," she pointed out.

"Well, I'm really horny," I admitted with a wicked smile.

"Still want to come?"

"God, yes."

"Fuck yourself on my foot."

"Really? Here?" I asked, looking around nervously.

"Right here, right now," she ordered, not in a harsh way but nevertheless stating a requirement, rubbing her foot in a stimulating circular motion on my pussy.

There were a million reasons why I should have refused, but those were all superseded by the one reason I decided to obey... Desperation. I was desperate to cum, desperate to obey.

I held my hand on her foot to steady it, and began grinding up and down on it, no longer concerned about the older women to my left.

"That's it my pet," she encouraged me, "just close your eyes, obey and let go."

I obeyed and moaned a little louder than I meant to, just closing my eyes and allowing my submissive nature and my lustful desires to take control of me.

I'd already been pretty close from our conversation, from my revelations and from her constant foot teasing, so it didn't take long for my orgasm to build to a climactic conclusion.

"Come for me, my pet," she purred, knowing I was epically close.

"Oh God," I moaned, biting my lip not to cry out as my orgasm hit me just a few seconds later.

"Oh, my," the waitress gasped, arriving just at my moment of climax. She asked, as I kept coming and couldn't open my eyes, "Will there be anything else, ladies?" She was unable to keep the quaver out of her voice.

Sam answered, "No, we'll have dessert back at my place."

"O-o-okay," the waitress responded, frazzled.

"Pay her, my pet," Samantha ordered me, forcing me to open my eyes and look up at this waitress with the bright red face who just had witnessed my humiliating act.

I opened my eyes, and feeling compelled to show both Sam and the waitress that I wasn't ashamed and that I understood my place, I responded with a smile, fending off my insecurities and embarrassment, "Yes, Mistress."

I reached inside my purse, pulled out my credit card and handed it to the shell-shocked waitress.

"Thank you, ma'am," she said, accepting it. "I'll be right back."

"Mistress, eh?" Sam smiled, once we were alone again.

"Sorry, it just popped out."

"No, I like it," she nodded. "I'm also impressed by your lack of embarrassment."

"I can't explain it," I said, "but doing as I was told, getting caught in the act of coming not by my choice but yours, and accepting who I am, seemed to dissipate all those worries."

"I see," she smiled. "Well, let's go back to my place and really break down the barriers."

"Yes, Mistress," I agreed.

"How big is your husband?" she asked.

"I don't know... five inches maybe."

"No wonder he never made you come," she said, looking mortified.

"Maybe it would have worked sometimes, but he also only lasts a couple of minutes," I admitted, enjoying disparaging my husband to her... I'd never before had a viable outlet to vent to.

"Well, you're in for a treat today," she said, smiling as the waitress arrived.

"Yes, Mistress, I can't wait," I said, loud enough for the waitress to hear, as I took the bill and signed it.

"Let's go, my pet," Sam said, as I handed the bill back to the waitress.

"Yes, Mistress," I repeated, standing up, this time loud enough for the older two women who had recently begun looking over here a bit to listen as well. Feeling so liberated, I bragged openly, "I came so hard, I dribbled right through my panties and pantyhose."

"And all over my foot," Sam added with a laugh, as she took my hand and I winked at the three mortified women.

I don't know why I said it, but I stopped at the elder ladies' table and said, "You two would likely be liberated if you just went back to one of your places and 69'd."

"Disgusting," one gasped while the other's face went red.

I added, pointing to the red-faced woman, "Looks like she's up for it."

I resumed walking as Sam said, "I think I may have created a monster."

"I don't know why I did that," I admitted, although not feeling guilty like I normally would for such an inappropriate act.

"Your awakening is definitely under way," she said, as we walked out to the street hand in hand.

"I feel liberated," I declared, as I followed her to the parking lot.

"We're going in my car," she informed me.

"Okay," I said, happy to follow her anywhere. For the first time since these crazy orgasms had begun a couple of weeks ago there was no post orgasmic guilt, only excitement for what was to come.

In the car she asked, "How did it feel to come in public like that? With people watching?"

"At the moment of orgasm I forgot I was in public," I admitted.

"And when you realized you'd been caught?" she asked.

"I should have been mortified, I should have had a wave of guilt course through me, but all I felt was liberation," I explained. 'Liberation' was the only word that really seemed to explain my 180° mental flip flop.

"How was the orgasm?" she asked.

"Oh God! My most intense ever!" I admitted, that being the complete truth and the closest I'd ever gotten to coming from sex.

Had I come from sex?

Was humping a foot considered sex?

I thought it was.

"Your husband doesn't understand what an amazing woman you are," she said.

"Most of the time I feel he's convinced me that I'm not," I said, with a little sigh.

"You deserve better," she said, as after only a couple-minute drive, we were pulling into the college dorm's parking lot.

My eyes went wide.

"Don't worry, almost everyone is in class," she said.

"Shouldn't you be?" I asked.

"Yes, but this is more important," she said, getting out of the car.