Midlife Crisis

I know you are thinking that midlife crisis is a term used by men as an excuse to buy a convertible or have an affair. But that isn't always the case. I'm a 42 year old woman named Gwen. I'm petite, about 5' 2" tall and thin. I didn't buy a new car. But I did have an affair. To be more accurate I am having an affair. I suppose some backstory is in order.

I am a professor at Northwestern University in Evanston, IL. For the geographically challenged, that is just North of Chicago. I have tenure and make a very good living. My husband has a sales job and also does very well. The only downside is he has to travel a few days almost every week. We've been married 21 years (just out of college) and have a 20 year old daughter who is away at school. I tried to get her to go to Northwestern not only because it is a great school but because I'd get a huge discount for her. So naturally, she chose UW Madison.

Our story is pretty typical. We had a good marriage at first, but the stress of time, work and raising a daughter took its toll and intimacy became less and less. I started to wonder if my husband was getting his needs met when he was on the road. I'm still very attractive (I work out three days a week) but he didn't show much bedroom interest in me. I didn't have any actual proof he was cheating on me, but still. I needed more than he was giving.

Masturbation kept my own needs met. I had my trusty vibrator and occasionally watched videos online. In fact, that probably would have been where this story ended, if I had not found a link to an erotic story site while surfing for new videos. Opening my mind to new fantasies as I read the lurid tales people posted made me cum much better than the videos I would watch. I read stories on what seemed like an endless array of fetishes and imagine scenes for myself. Some turned me on, some didn't. I started getting into submission stories and that really got me thinking more about having an affair. Sometimes I imagined myself dominating a guy and making him give me all the attention I craved. I'd tie him to the bed and ride him until he couldn't get hard another time. Then I'd send him away. Other times I pictured myself as the submissive being ordered to serve a group of men. They would pass me around until none of us could cum any more.

Most of those stories were what I would consider extreme fantasies, but they made me cum and that was my primary goal. Then I read one that seemed sweeter and more about seduction. I knew it was going to turn into a bondage story from the tags on the listing, but at the beginning it seemed more romantic with one neighbor seducing another. If I ever did have an affair I would already rule my neighbors out. It would be too difficult to keep that a secret.

I was getting very hot and bothered with my vibe doing its job. In fact I was very close to cumming when I was shocked to learn the story was about a woman seducing another woman. The protagonist was named Robin and I assumed it was a guy. I had not considered he was a she. Mind you, I'm not homophobic. Life on a college campus has a very active LBGTQ community. I'd never given it much thought, actually, and had never "experimented" when I was in school. But there I was about to cum to a lesbian seduction story. And as I continued reading, my climax turned into a big one. It was definitely an eye opener.

As you might suspect, my choices in reading, videos and masturbation fantasies evolved to being frequently lesbian based or at least FFM threesome based. I also started having impure thoughts about girls I saw on campus. I knew that was verboten, but I couldn't help but look and fantasize. That is also how I found myself in one of Chicago's lesbian bars (thanks Google) on a Wednesday night.

My husband was out of town and I didn't have any Thursday classes to teach, so I amped up my courage, got dressed up and took the Red Line (the elevated train that runs from Evanston to the South side of Chicago) down to an anonymous Northside bar hoping to find a lesbian who would pick me up and teach me about woman to woman love. Well, woman to woman sex. I didn't expect to fall in love. I just needed someone willing to touch me intimately, if only for an hour or two. In my fantasy I would walk in and there would be plenty available women to choose from and all I would have to do is pick one to ravage me.

I figured taking the train was a good idea instead of driving in case I had a bit too much to drink. I also expect most of the patrons would live near the bar so not having to leave my car there was a bonus. Plus the bar was only two blocks from the train. Yes I was talking myself into being at the mercy of whoever I let pick me up. At least that was my fantasy. I didn't even know if any woman would want to take a neophyte home. If not, there were other bars in the area, if all else failed, where I could probably find a guy for a quickie.

After an hour sitting in a booth sipping several white wines, that option started to seem more likely. The bar wasn't crowded and the women that were there seemed to be already partnered or too young and not interested in a middle aged woman. I didn't have the courage to initiate a conversation with any of them, although I did ogle a few. Then she walked in.

My first impression was "Holy shit. She's the one." She was tall. At least six feet compared to my petite 5 foot 2. She was blonde with long straight hair down past her shoulders. She was lean with perky breasts, probably a C cup but firm enough not to require a bra. I knew that because her nipples were standing prominently under her shirt and on display. I couldn't make out the writing on the shirt in the dim light, though. I felt my pussy start to moisten as I looked at her tight jeans and her firm ass as she turned toward the bar. She definitely had the look of an athlete. A young athlete.

She got a drink at the bar and then turned to examine the crowd. Her eyes focused on me, briefly. I felt like I blushed and quickly broke eye contact. When I looked back, she was looking at two other young, athletic girls who had just entered the bar. They came over and hugged my blonde goddess before getting their own drinks and moving to a table by the jukebox. I had given up on any of these beautiful girls being interested in me when the blonde looked at me again. I fought my nervousness and tried not to look away. I didn't know what I had to offer her, but if she was going to look at me, I was going to look at her.

She was staring at me. Actually she was staring through me, into my soul. I felt myself giving in to her even before she made a move toward my booth or said a word to me. She was the one I'd been waiting for. I knew it. When she started walking toward me, my field of vision narrowed until I could only see her face. Her beautiful face and her radiant smile. I saw her lips move, but I didn't even hear her ask if she could join me. I was transfixed. She just sat down and extended her hand.

"Elle," I did hear her say.

I shook her hand and replied, "Gwen."

It was the first time I had touched a woman in a way that was not innocent and it was electric. When she pulled her hand back I finally focused on the writing on her shirt. She was wearing a Northwestern volleyball shirt. Was my goddess a student, an alumnus or just a fan? I had to stop this right now. I opened my mouth as if to speak, but she slid her fingers up my arm and asked if this was the first time I'd been in a lesbian bar? How could she tell already? A tingle went up my arm and down through my spine.

"Yes," I answered softly.

"You're shy," she replied. "I like that." Then she leaned over and gave me a soft, but knowing kiss. I was a goner.

We stayed at the bar drinking our wines and talking about life. Her friend had put money in the jukebox and they were dancing. A few other couples had joined them, but my concentration was on Elle. And once her fingers left my arm, she took my hand in hers and was clearly trying to seduce me. And I let her. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't resist her.

I admitted that I was married, taught at the university and was a lesbian virgin. She was the captain of the volleyball team and told me she liked being a woman's first. I was putty in her hands and she knew it. Maybe an hour later, she told me we were going to dance. The music had stopped, but she pulled me easily out of the booth and led me to the center of the small dance floor. I watched as one of her friends went over and put another dollar in the jukebox. I was surprised when a slow song began playing. Elle put her arms on my shoulders (easy with our height difference) and I instinctively put my arms around her waist.

She pulled me close against her. It felt so natural. Then she pulled my head down against her breasts. That seemed natural too, almost as if she was mothering me despite my being old enough to be her mother. She then whispered in my ear telling me to grab her butt. That even felt natural. A woman I had just met was telling me to touch her in public while I nuzzled my face against her breasts. Who could object to that, although this was not how I had pictured this evening going in my fantasy. Oh, by this point I was soaking my panties too.

We danced like that for two consecutive songs. I'm sure her friends were watching us as were the other women in the bar. Yet I didn't care. I wanted Elle to take me home and teach me about womanly lovemaking. But she wasn't quite ready to leave the bar yet. As we walked back to our booth, she took me in her strong arms and gave me another kiss. This one was far more passionate and demanding than her first. My knees almost gave out.

"Your pussy is soaked, isn't it?" she asked although I'm sure the question was rhetorical. She had to know the effect she was having on me. I could only nod in affirmation. I couldn't bring myself to admit it.

"I'm going to get two more glasses of wine," she informed me. "You're going to go to the bathroom, take your panties off and toss them in the garbage."

It was a declarative statement. It wasn't a question. And I wasn't about to disobey. I felt so naughty returning to the booth without my panties soaking up my juices, although they were so saturated they were not doing a very good job. Elle was waiting, two wine glasses on the table. As I started to slide into the booth next to her, she gave me another command. "Lift the back of your skirt so your ass is on the cushion." OK, I wasn't expecting that, but I complied. "I don't want your excitement staining your dress," she told me. I had never even thought that was possible, but of course she was right.

As I slid next to her, her hand, instead of taking mine, went to the front of my dress and then under it sliding up my thigh. I gasped. She told me to relax. My only saving grace was I didn't think anyone could see what she was doing. But without my panties to protect me, she was about to discover how wet she made me. That was the point, of course, but I wasn't prepared for how exciting it would be for the first time a woman touched me. Having it happen in public made it even better. I exhaled with a contented mew when her finger easily slid into me.

Elle took her time fingering my pussy and rubbing my clit. With her free hand she sipped her wine and encouraged me to do the same, pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Even when her friends (Samantha & Kelly) stopped at our booth on the way to the bathroom, she continued her assault on my pussy and my mind. I'm sure they knew exactly what Elle was doing, although they pretended not to notice. When they left, she stopped, pulled her hand back and sucked my juice off her finger. "Umm, you're tasty," she said. I know I blushed then.

"Take me back to your place and I'll teach you how to eat pussy," she told me. I wanted nothing more, although I would have preferred to go to her place. But I really needed to cum as well.

"I need to cum," I admitted to her. "Then I'll take you home and do whatever you want."

I admit I had read that line in many stories where the person, desperate to cum or responding to some kind of blackmail, would get taken advantage of after making it. I'm not saying that is why I said it. But yes, that is why I said it hoping she would catch my offer. Elle just smiled and told me to get myself off. And that is how it came to pass that I was masturbating in a bar with three students (the other girls had returned from the bathroom and were standing in front of the table) watching me. They couldn't see my pussy, but they could see my arm moving and hear my moans. It was humiliating, it was exciting and it was the best orgasm I ever had in my life. And the night was still young.

We walked out of the bar, my thighs slick with my juice and Elle's hand possessively on my ass. We walked toward the train station. Apparently she had not driven either. When we got to the station door, she embraced me again and kissed me again. My entire body quivered.

"If we go through that door," she told me, "You're going to repay me for that orgasm in the bar. Are you prepared to do that?"

This time I had found my voice. "Yes, Elle," I replied. "I'll do whatever you want."

I figured this time she couldn't miss my promise. She smiled again. We went through the door, deposited our tokens and went through the turnstile. We were alone on the platform for several minutes before the train arrived. She spent that time with her hand under my dress, her fingers teasing my pussy and her eyes staring into my soul again. What had I gotten myself into?

Midlife Crisis - Chapter 02

When we boarded the train, I was a little worried about what Elle might make me do. There were a few other people in our car. I thought maybe she would finger me again, discreetly I hoped. She steered us to the last row of the car. She sat next to the window and I sat next to her. I looked at the other people and they were in their own worlds as they were probably heading home from a late night of work. I looked back at Elle and was surprised to see her unbuttoning her jeans and pulling down the zipper. I didn't know what to do or what she expected. She took my right hand and put it in her pants. I found that like me, she wasn't wearing panties. Also like me, she was very wet.

I did what came naturally. I started rubbing her pussy and then fingering her with my middle finger. I pretty much did exactly what she had done to me at the bar. She put her left arm around me and pulled me close against her body. I liked that. She then began whispering in my ear instructions of how to pleasure her. Tips like when to rub her clit, how fast, when to finger her, when to just rub her back and force over her pussy and the like. It was very intimate and the kind of connection I had been craving.

That went on for the first 10 minutes of our 20 minute ride. By that time, the car had emptied out and we were by ourselves. Elle then told me to pull my hand out and to suck her juices off my fingers. It was the first time I'd ever tasted pussy except for a few times I'd suck off my husband after he fucked me. Elle was much better tasting. She then told me to stand up. I had a feeling she was going to lift my dress, but instead she told me to get on my knees in the aisle.

I suppose I should have known her next move was to stand and pull her jeans all the way down. She had to be agile to sit on the edge of the seat without removing her pants and spread her legs wide enough for me to follow her instruction to eat her pussy. But that was a command I was happy to obey. Having tasted the fruits of my effort with my fingers, I was desperate to taste her directly from the source.

Even though our car was empty, I was concerned that someone might come in from the car in front of us. But I wasn't concerned enough to stop. I was unsure of my technique and in retrospect I now realize Elle was testing how far I would go to please her more than she was trying to get off. In the moment though, I loved lapping at her soft wet folds and savored every drop of juice I was able to devour. As we approached the end of the line at Howard Street where we had to transfer to the Purple Line for the rest of our journey, Elle had me stand and then pulled up her pants. She didn't comment one way or the other whether I had done well.

We were lucky that the wait for our next train was minimal. I also was relieved to find we were the only ones boarding going north. It wasn't a long ride to the Central Avenue station, walking distance to my house, so I wasn't sure if Elle would want me to lick her pussy again. A transit cop might be the only one who would catch us. I doubt she was worried about that as she sat down and directed me to sit on her lap facing away from her. She then lifted the front of my dress and began playing with my pussy again.

While her right hand was pussy rubbing my sensitive bits, her left hand was mauling my breasts. My bra was protecting them and I was surprised she didn't order me to remove it. Her fingers were very skillful (you already knew that) at bringing my arousal level to a fevered pitch. But the short ride was against us and I didn't get to cum before we arrived at our stop. That was disappointing, but I wasn't particularly worried as I was sure I'd get the chance to finish soon enough. She had not cum on the train either so I guess we were even.

Elle told me she had driven to the station earlier and we got into her car even though I lived just 4 blocks away. I was dripping with anticipation as we pulled into my driveway. Elle then retrieved a weekend size bag from the trunk of her car. I guess she anticipated not going home tonight. I also noticed she took a picture of my house. That confused me.

"I always let Sam and Kelly know where I am when I pick up a tasty morsel. If you turn out to be a homicidal maniac, at least they can tell the police where I was," she told me. OK, that was a bit weird, but if it was necessary for her to feel safe with me, so be it.

Once inside, I locked the front door and Elle immediately pinned me against it. She held my arms above my head and kissed me with a fiery passion. Arousal flowed through my body and I allowed her to hold me like that instead of resisting, not that I could have moved her anyway. A minute later, or so, she released my arms and backed up. I was panting. She told me to strip and that she had been waiting to see me naked since the moment she first saw me in the bar. It didn't take me long to shed my dress and bra. She then told me to put my hands on top of my head and spread my legs. I didn't understand why, but I did as she asked.

She slowly circled me a couple of times. I felt like an object. On her third rotation around me, she dragged her index finger over my nipples. She explained this was the inspection pose, although she didn't give me any additional feedback over what she was looking for or how long it would last. After her next trip around my body she stood in front of me and slid a finger into my wet and ready pussy. Her thumb positioned itself on my clit.

As her index finger curled inside of me and tapped on my g-spot, her thumb began to rub my clit. I let out a contented sigh, although soon my legs began to weaken again. Soon I was rocking side to side as my arousal affected my balance. Had she kept up her assault, I am convinced I would have fallen down when I came. But she stopped before that could happen and told me to sit on my couch. Oh, and to keep my legs spread.

Elle got on her knees, hooked her strong arms under my knees and pulled my pussy to the edge of the sofa. Then she went down on me. It felt amazing. My husband had never been shy about going down on me, but when you hear only a woman can really know how to eat pussy, believe it. I'd never felt anything so good. You will not be surprised that I came almost immediately. I mean, her fingering had me teetering on the edge already, but having Elle between my legs would have brought me off even if she had put an ice cube on my clit.