The Aftermath of a Marriage Pt. 01

An intro from Jayne,

That period after a marriage breaks down when the parties start living apart is strange. I know as I am going through it right now and have been for the past year or so. To be precise, though, the period of strangeness includes the time prior to the parting where pretty much everything is going tits up.

When a woman starts living alone after many years with her husband, and in my case two children as well, so many things are different mainly because now she has to make the decisions that previously had been his domain. She can choose what to watch on TV, have for dinner and when to eat. She decides when to go out or stay in, what to do socially and where to spend holidays and vacations. It's up to her who she chooses to see, when, where and how often and what she spends her savings or income on. In other words, she become her own boss.

Now, of course, that decision making and choice goes a lot further and involves many other topics and with this being on Literotica the elephant in the room is sex. So, in short, now that she's free she can fuck whoever she chooses, when she pleases and however she wants.

This story is about how I did just that.

This isn't going to be a series of frequently published episodes like some of my catalogue. Instead, it will be an infrequent series linked together with the common theme of how a middle-aged woman copes with the massive lifestyle changes, particularly sexual ones of separation and then divorce.

So that I don't have to keep repeating myself in the stories I am a fairly busty, quite short haired natural blonde with good legs and a nice ass. I wear glasses, even to have sex in, I am around five feet six inches tall and weigh in English 10 stones and internationally 140 pounds/65 kgs.

Nearly our last sex.

I quite willingly opened my legs so that my husband had more room between them for his face. For some reason I also bent my left leg at the knee and raised it leaving the right one that he was lying across flat on the bed. We nearly always had oral sex like that other than, that is, when I was on my front and Kevin made intense love to my ass and pussy at the same time. Tonight, though, wasn't one of those nights. No, I could tell that tonight was going to be just straight forward oral foreplay followed by a fairly energetic fuck with me on my back and him on top and between my legs that I might or might nor wrap around his waist. Some time ago we'd stopped the legs over his shoulders position as we were getting too old for that. I was rapidly finishing my forties and Kevin was a few years into his fifties.

As usual, after a rather cursory suck of each my nipples, which was nice as he's really good at that, he moved the folds guarding my clit and rubbed that for a while which got me fully aroused and wet. He slid a finger or two around and between my pussy lips before pushing them in as far as they would go. Fortunately, I still lubricate myself but, as I approach fifty how much longer that'll go on for I have no idea.

That part of our sex, it was no longer lovemaking, done he slithered down my body and started on my inner thighs. He knows only too well that I adore being licked and kissed there and, despite the fact that out of bed we were hardly talking, his oral stimulation of that smoothest part of a woman's body was as arousing as it had always been. However, with his mouth, tongue and nose so close to my pussy, as usual after a couple of minutes he ran out of patience and abandoned the subtlety of my thighs for the blatantness of my pussy lips. As they were nice and naturally wet and as his tongue and fingers moved around them stimulating my uncovered clit and slid up and down just inside my pussy I could feel my climax building up.

But it wasn't like it used to be. How could it be? We'd been having sex for over twenty-five years, we were so familiar with each other, we'd done everything time and time again and were now following a well tried and tested routine. And on top of that as many our age do, we had fallen out of love. Kevin was the first man for all those years who I was having sex with who I didn't love. Nevertheless, he was getting exactly what he wanted and was giving me what he thought I wanted. But I needed more. I wanted and needed something else. Just having a man who I didn't get on with and who was, without doubt, cheating on me licking my most intimate place simply wasn't enough. That said, what he was doing was sending enormous rushes of arousal through me and I knew with just a little more I would, unlike numerous women I knew, get off and climax fully.

So, I grabbed my breasts. Yes, grabbed them. Not cupped, fondled, grasped or caressed but I gripped them tight. At first, it was just my fingers pressing into the fleshy fullness of each D cup breast but, as I got more excited it was my fingernails digging into them as well.

I have sensitive breasts. But then most full breasted women do, or so I've read. I guess there's something about the more flesh there is on your boobs the more there is to pleasure and I was now doing that big time. It wasn't however, just pleasure as I was also hurting myself with the way my fingernails were digging into the soft flesh. In recent years, as orgasms have at times been harder to come by, I have developed an enjoyment of a degree of pain, particularly as a climax is building up. The addition then of a strong suck, slap, pinch or even a bite on my tits or inner thighs which brings a surge of pain to mix with the sexual arousal nearly always does the trick. The addition of the pain to the arousal not only nearly always puts me over the top and brings on the emotional extremes of an orgasm, but also it generally makes that more intense and satisfying than one without any pain.

And it worked this time. Suddenly the sensations Kevin was giving me with his mouth on my lips and clit were emphasised and it felt almost as if he was shoving a red-hot poker right up my cunt. As the pain from my tits merged with the stimulation on my pussy my whole body started to shudder and I knew I would fully orgasm. And boy did I!

As I'd told him several times over the years how tender a woman is down there immediately after a climax, Kevin considerately waited for my shuddering to finish. As he usually had in the past few years, he got the waiting time just about right before starting again. He didn't kiss me as we no longer did much of that well not on the mouths that is! It was far too intimate and loving for us. In fact, both in and out of bed we hadn't kissed at all apart from the odd pecks on the cheek for several years. But then lip kissing is an indication of love for each other and we no longer had that.

Wordlessly and purely from habit as he reached across me and cupped my breast, I again opened my legs for him. He rolled fully on top of me and positioned his cock so that the tip of it pressed against the slightly parted lips of my pussy. Then after just a few moments he eased it between them and pushed the bulbous head past the lips and up me. As always that feeling as his dick invades me was wonderful and I grunted my pleasure and appreciation although being absolutely truthful, I wasn't looking forward that much to what I knew was about to happen. The pleasantly satisfying orgasm he'd given me with his mouth and fingers was, in reality and the rather dire circumstances of our relationship, enough for me. But being the dutiful wife that I still was in some ways, and certainly as far as sex was concerned far more so than he, I felt I owed him so I played my part in the fuck that was about to happen. That wasn't to the point of having to feign anything as he did make me cum it was more, I guess to exaggerate things a little, which I did.

Temptations.

Like most women, I had numerous sexual advances and a few offers whilst married. These were during both the periods when I was happily married and during those when things were not so good. During the latter periods, especially as a I slinked through my mid-forties, I was tempted and I wondered just what it would be like to be with another guy. To have him kiss me, touch, fondle and caress me, maybe undress me and look at my body especially my breasts, bare and fully ready for him. And, of course, as I started masturbating again during the times when Kevin and I were at each other's throats and not our genitals, usually when I suspected him of playing away from home, I imagined what it would be like being fucked by one of them. Also, as part of my now more frequent masturbating process I'd recall some of the advances.

There was the builder who fitted our new bathroom and was in and around the house generally and the marital bedroom and ensuite particularly for several weeks. He was probably in his mid-thirties, unmarried but living with a younger woman with a couple of kids, one of which was hers from a previous relationship. He came onto me with numerous remarks and suggestions after hearing Kevin and I rowing and noticing that we were sleeping in different bedrooms. Although rather naïve, or at least unfamiliar with being pulled, as the modern terminology calls it, I got his drift when we were standing outside the room where Kevin had slept the previous night and smiling, he said, "Just give me the nod if you need any help with that Jayne," as he pointedly looked at the unmade bed where Kevin had slept.

Although I ignored him, his words hit home and often being alone in the house with him for two more weeks, I was tempted but I resisted. Then there was the tennis club dance when one of the pros, a thirty something hulk of a guy got an erection as we danced and pressed it quite unashamedly into my stomach. At various golf, tennis club and other function that we used to attend in our thirties and forties I danced with guys whose hands wandered and either felt my bum or plucked suggestively at my bra strap. A couple even went so far to whisper in my ear that they fancied me and wondered if we might have a drink sometime. Several times as I kissed a guy hello or goodbye and they slipped their arm around me they would accidentally brush their hand along the side of my boob. As with most women there were numerous incidences of prolonged and intense eye contact, inadvertent touches on my back or buttocks and suggestive remarks.

Talking to friends in similar personal circumstances to mine made me realise that I was no exception and similar things seemed to happen to most of them. What, of course, I couldn't ask was how they responded, but then equally, I didn't tell them that I had rejected every advance nor that they had provided some useful masturbatory fodder for my lonely nights in bed alone.

Giving into temptation.

When I think back and put my mind to it, things had been getting worse for at least five years. Kevin and I still had sex and to be honest if we had got on as well out of bed as we did in it then we'd still be together. But we didn't, we rowed frequently usually about trivial things that became major issues, didn't talk for days on end but then usually we made up with both of us having wonderful, well, at least reasonable, orgasms. Oddly and unlike some women I knew, I never had to feign my orgasms, I really had them though they were of a lower intensity than they used to be.

I am not sure what the actual catalyst was but something happened, probably my strong and as it turned out accurate, suspicion that he was having another fling, that I think told both of us that it was hopeless. That made us realise that we no longer wanted to be married to each other. All it needed now was for us to tell each other that!

Straying outside my marriage.

Part of my realisation came on the front seat of a Mercedes, I think it was or, maybe it was a BMW, of a guy, Miles, who I worked with. He was in his late forties and was a pretty senior manager, several rungs up the management ladder to me. We'd been getting friendlier for some time and he'd taken to given me a lift home now and then although it was out of his way. We were very discreet as he was married with three young kids and neither of us wanted us to become office gossip.

As he was a sales guy and his wife was used to him entertaining and as I had emotionally given up with Kevin, after a few lifts home we felt able to stop and have a drink or two in a pub. That led to us finding a secluded place and stopping on the way from the pub to my house. At first, we just talked then, over a period of several weeks, we kissed and went further.

It was probably the fact of being wanted again, rather than my need for sex that I so relatively easily let him do pretty much what he wanted to me. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it for I did. Well whilst it was happening that is, although the emotional aftermath at home was traumatic and very difficult.

He took a long time plucking up the courage to kiss me which, though rather frustrating gave me the assurance that what he'd told me about us being his first time of straying was true. It showed that he was not a player and that he was not seeing me as just another notch on his bedpost! That first illicit kiss was lovely. It was tentative and enquiring but also exciting though it took some time, probably several such kisses for it to become as passionate as the sexual ones I exchanged even at that time with my husband. But that was fine I had no desire to have his tongue down my throat too quickly.

After the first couple of times that we parked and kissed I obviously had guilt complexes when I got home, particularly if Kevin and I were in a placid way with our relationship and were having sex. But they were combined with massive surges of excitement. I was doing something that he knew nothing about just he had done to me and, as I found out later, on several occasions,

The buzz I got from cheating far outweighed the guilt and I wasn't put off doing more because of the latter. And, of course, nothing stands still and although Miles and I were patient and he was nicely restrained so things moved on, albeit in stages with respectable gaps in between.

At first it was almost typical teenager stuff really. After enquiringly running his hand along the side of my breast, gently pinging my bra strap and sliding his fingertips down my neck and across my bare chest where my blouse was open on what was possibly our fourth or fifth park and kiss, he cupped my breast outside the silky tank top I was wearing. It made me gasp and without thinking, I arched my back and pressed back against his hand. That made him squeeze and then rub my breast which, persuaded me to push back more firmly. That in turn gave him the courage and, I guess the green light to go further by sliding his hand inside the tank top and, feeling no resistance from me, cupping my breast with his hand outside my bra. It was lovely and I started looking forward to when it would be inside the bra.

At home that evening I felt more guilt than before. That was not only because Miles had gone further with his advances but that a man other than my husband had fondled my breast for the first time since we had got married. The guilt was made stronger because I knew that had Miles have pushed for more, I would have given it. But what was the more I might have given? Since starting seriously with Kevin in my mid-twenties, I had been faithful and I'd had no sexual activity other than the typical surreptitious stuff most women experience, so I had no real idea how modern-day affairs worked. But any progress on that had to wait as both Miles and Kevin and I had holidays and straight after his he had week-long budget meetings in America so our 'park and play' went on hold for several, frustrating weeks.

In many ways, probably most really, that was a blessing as it meant I didn't either, have to confront or, make the big decision, but I knew that was coming. What I was also beginning to realise was that the end of my marriage was coming as well. Things were becoming, or had become, pretty terrible between Kevin and me. We were constantly bickering and going days on end without talking, he had taken to staying out and going God knows where most evenings often to the small hours and a few times all night and he had moved into the spare bedroom, again.

Miles had been back a few days and other than a quick embrace and a longish kiss in his office one evening after hours, something we had started doing before the break, we had hardly seen or spoken to each other but then he messaged me, 'need a lift tonight?' I replied with, 'don't need but would like one.'

Whether I had a premonition or whether it was by chance I couldn't say but, I was wearing a cerise coloured, three-button, suit jacket with just a bra under it. That was complemented by, a black pencil, just above the knee, fairly tight, lightweight skirt, four-inch, black patent heels and black, lacy top hold ups, thong and bra.

Although it was our first time not in darkness, as soon as he parked under the overhanging trees facing the only way into the forest car park that had become 'our place,' he leaned across the central console and taking me into his arms he whispered, "God Jayne have I missed you?"

"Missed me or this," I smiled just before we kissed.

"Both," he mumbled as his lips met mine and we writhed against each other.

Something had happened with our relationship. I could feel it from the moment he'd parked the car and it seemed as though he had as well. We were far more relaxed with each other, more confident in what we were doing and, despite the lack of darkness, adventurous in our approach. Immediately we kissed my arms went around his neck and as the kiss progressed and became more passionate so I arched my back and leaned across the console as he was so that he could squash my boobs against his chest.

I guessed that we had gone past the sexual preamble of Miles taking his time to touch me intimately, as he had before our break. I thought, maybe me arching my back sent an invitation to him, which thinking back later I realised that it was, for him to visit my breasts. We had always been fairly in tune with our kissing and embracing but at no time had it been as fine-tuned as it was now. For just as my breasts felt so heavy and full and my nipples seemed ready to burst so his hand closed around my left breast and squeezed it somewhat easing the sexual ache. I pushed back, kissed him even stronger and let out a low moan. He got my silent suggestion and immediately slid his hand up inside the jacket and right onto my breast inside the delicate as good as see through bra. Whilst that felt lovely it didn't work that well as the jacket with his hand inside it was now too tight so I reached up and undid the buttons one by one. Apart from the cute and sexy, black Perla bra I was naked under it and that was when I wondered whether what I had chosen to wear was a premonition!

"Oh Jayne thank you so much," he smiled opening the jacket and staring at my breasts in the acutely cut bra that hardly covered my areola.

Grinning back, I whispered, "Mmmmm you're very welcome sir."

Then his mouth was on them and all pretences of being restrained vanished. After sucking, licking and chewing my nipples through the fabric he rather roughly but appropriate for the occasion, yanked each boob out of its pretty and sexy but, nevertheless unwanted cup and stared for the first time at my bare breasts muttering, "Oh baby, they're gorgeous, they are truly beautiful."

"Thanks love, but you ain't seen nothin' yet," I quipped back putting on a dreadfully poor American accent.

"No, well I can't wait for that."

"Time and place love, time and place and this is neither," I replied sounding even to myself rather mysterious but that didn't mess up the atmosphere or the action as I quickly had the thrill of his mouth on their bareness and he was sucking my nipples into his mouth. It was lovely.