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Last night I spent 40 minutes telling my husband John, every detail of what happened on Friday. I am always afraid that he is going to think that I went too far or that he has changed his mind about me having sex with his buddies and thinks that I have turned into a complete slut and divorces me.
Based on his reaction, at least for now, that is the farthest thing from the truth. He wants to know every excruciating detail, everything that I felt, every nasty element of my sexual promiscuity. It makes him extremely horny and he shows me via Skype what it does to him, and I show him what retelling the stories does to me.
Still, it isn’t the same. Sex is just sex and I love it but I’m in love with John and there is no substitute for making love to the man I love. That is special, just between us.
After yesterday, I am more than a little sore but an extra hour of lying in bed this morning helps tremendously. For the first time in a week I didn’t wake up with my fingers shoved in my pussy masturbating to a fantasy of me being taken by more and more men.
Sipping my coffee, back in bed, trying to catch up on Facebook, I can’t help but think about the cart-girl, Analyse, from yesterday. She recently graduated from college and is living with her parents until she starts her new job in Houston. She is so adorable and at 22, just a very mature and very ……. I don’t know, maybe she just has a very sexual aura about her. I know she pours it on for the golfers as she drives around the course selling her drinks and snacks in her tight little shorts and low-cut tops. I know she flirts to bring in the extra tips and she probably sends a lot of golfers back onto the course with visions of co-eds dancing in their heads.
I guess that’s what she did to me as well. Maybe I will call her and see if she wants to get together for lunch. I better get out of bed, and her out of my head, before my fingers start to wander. If that happens, I will never get anything done today.
Ok, I admit it, I can’t stop thinking about it. I keep telling myself that it isn’t sexual, I just admire her youth and well, sometimes I wish I could go back to that time in my life. It was so exciting. I can’t help but think about what I would do different if I could go back to being 22, knowing everything that I know now. I can’t help but think that my life might be very different.
I’m not complaining about my life at all. I have a wonderful husband that I love very much, and a great life. I just think that I wasted so much time on stupid things like insecurity about my body and all the misconceptions about what girls are supposed to do and not supposed to do. I feel like I wasted a lot of years trying to be somebody I’m not.
I don’t have Analyses’ number so I call her parents. Her mother is such a sweet lady, now in her late 50’s and married to a very nice man, a retired attorney that helped my husband with the legal aspects of setting up his business, and a member at our country club. Analyses’ mother and I chat for a while and I tell her that I saw Analyse on the course yesterday and wanted to see if she had time for lunch.
When Analyse comes on the phone she sounds excited to hear from me. She is planning to go to the mall to shop for clothes for her new job and we agree to go together. I am going to buy something new for myself as well to wear when I go out with my girlfriends tomorrow night. I tell her that I will pick her up at noon and we can go to lunch from there.
I take my time with my hair and makeup. Nothing heavy, just that girl-next-door look as John calls it. Looking through my closet I realize I need to start pulling more of my spring and summer clothes to the front and move my winter things to the back.
I find a cute little yellow and white print sun-dress that should be just right for the 78-degree weather predicted for today and a delicate yellow lace thong that almost matches the yellow of my dress perfectly.
The dress is a halter style that shows lots of cleavage and has a strap that ties around my neck and crisscross ties going all the way down the back to my waist. If I wear a bra, the strap will show. The halter style gives me enough support but also a heck of a lot of cleavage and even some side boob, but I decide to go with it anyway. A necklace with a key that hangs down well into my cleavage that my husband bought me from Tiffany’s, a matching silver bracelet and now all I need are shoes.
Most of my sandals are in boxes for the winter so it takes me a while to find the strappy white 3″ heels I am looking for. If I am going to buy a dress for tomorrow night, I want to make sure it looks good with heels.
I check my toes to make sure they look good. Surprisingly there are no chips of the coral color polish I picked almost a week ago, on my toes or my fingers. I got some sun on my legs yesterday golfing but my feet could use some sun. Fortunately, the thicker strap around my ankles somewhat hides the obvious tan line between my feet and ankles.
I grab a little bakırköy türbanlı escort white sweater in case it is still a little chilly, a little touch-up on the lips and I am out the door. I might be a few minutes early but it will give me a chance to catch up with Analyses’ mother.
As I pull into their driveway, I can’t help but notice how manicured their lawn and shrubs are. I make a mental note to ask our lawn service to add trimming the shrubs and cleaning up the planting beds to their normal mowing duties. I take a quick check in the mirror before going in and notice that my out-of-control nipples are once again out of control. The cooler temperatures have put them on high alert and they are definitely poking through the thin material of my dress. I slip the sweater over my shoulders and pull it across my chest before going in.
Analyses’ mother answers the door and she invites me in. Their home is beautiful and the eclectic decorations that she and her husband collected and brought back from all over the world are arranged as neatly and carefully as their landscaping. While waiting for Analyse, we talk about John’s trip and how much I missed him. She is a wonderful lady.
Analyse almost came running down the stairs, dressed in a cute skirt and a tight t-shirt with a deep V-neck. Her auburn hair is pulled back from her face and held in a headband. She seems very excited to see me.
Almost before I can say hello, she asks, “Do you think I should wear higher heels or these lower ones to try on suits. I’m thinking nothing higher than 2 or 3 inches but I’m not sure; what do you think?”
I giggle at how excited she is and tell her to wear her lower heels but to bring the higher ones to try on with the suits. Without saying another word, she runs back up the stairs to get her heels.
Her mother says that she hadn’t seen Analyse this excited in a long time. “As soon as you called, she got so excited that I thought she was going to explode.”
“I’m excited for her. I remember my first job out of college and how excited I was.”
“It’s not just that, she couldn’t stop talking about you yesterday when she came home. Something about you teaching some poor boys at the club a lesson on the golf course.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly teach them a lesson, but I did win $100 from them and I showed them that I can play just about as well as they can. Not only that, I made them pay for my drinks and made sure they gave your daughter a nice big tip.”
She smiles and says, “I don’t know how she does it but she comes home with her pockets stuffed with money every time she goes out there.”
“Well, she is very sweet and people just love her. I think her parents must have raised her just right.”
“Thank you for that. I am going to go make myself some lunch. You two go have some fun and, thank you for going with her. I know she really appreciates it.”
“You are very welcome.”
“Just try to keep her Daddy’s credit card from catching on fire from too much use!” She laughs.
Analyse comes flying back down the stairs, this time carrying a much bigger bag which I assume she changed out so she could carry her extra pair of shoes. We hop in my car and start for the mall.
She is still very excited and talks almost non-stop as we drive to the mall. We talk about her job, where she is going to live, who she knows in Houston and just go on and on about everything.
We pull into the parking garage at the mall near the restaurant we agreed on. This mall has several nice restaurants and we picked Kona Grill to have a nice salad. I order a glass of wine and Analyse does as well. She gulps hers down quickly and orders a second glass. I am going to take it easy knowing that I will be driving us home later.
I bring up the one subject I had deferred from asking in the car, as we sit and she finishes her salad and the second glass of wine. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”
“I have several.” She says with a little smirk.
“Ok, well, I had a steady boyfriend at the start of my senior year but my course load was so heavy and his was as well and we just kind of went in different directions. He came home with me to meet my parents over Thanksgiving but it kinda got weird and we just broke up a little before Christmas. It was mutual. He is going back to Chicago to work with his father and now with me going to Houston, I don’t think it would have worked anyway.”
“Do you miss him?”
She started to giggle. “Some things I do.”
“Oh really. What does that mean?”
“I might need another glass of wine before I talk about that.” And before I could say anything else, she gulps down the remains of her second glass and signals our waiter for a third. I think I might need another one too so I indicate that I want one as well.
When the waiter comes back with our drinks, I tell him he can bring us the check. As he departs,
Analyse looks at me and says, “Did you see him looking at you?”
“No, bakırköy ucuz escort what do you mean?”
“I mean, he is my age and he barely looked at me. He was checking you out big time.”
“No, it was just because I was doing the talking.”
“And the pointing!”
I look down and just say “Oh.” My nipples are poking right through the thin material of my dress. I left my sweater in the car because it was so warm but the restaurant AC was blowing cold air right as us from the vent in the ceiling and my nipples were reacting in their usual way.
“I have no control over these things. It doesn’t seem to matter what I wear. My husband says they could poke through steel. I don’t even notice most of the time anymore.”
“Then men do though. Those guys you were golfing with couldn’t take their eyes off of them!”
“I’ll tell you a secret, that was part of my plan to distract them so I could beat them.”
We both burst out laughing.
Analyse says, “I noticed them too. They are distracting. I wish mine were like yours. Yours are so big and full and firm and they look deli…, I mean you are just so sexy.”
She caught herself but I heard it. She was about to describe my tits as delicious. I can’t help but smile and say, “Well, thank you, but I would love to have your figure. You are absolutely beautiful and I’m sure you turn lots of boy’s heads. And probably some girls too. And, I can tell you for sure that those old men I was playing with were checking out your sexy little ass every time you bent over or turned away.”
“They weren’t that old. I thought those guys were pretty hot, even the older one. I was kind of jealous of you getting to play with them. I like guys that are older, more mature. College guys can be such idiots.”
She is half-way through her 3rd glass of wine when we get back to talking about her boyfriends. She tells me that for the last few months, she had gone out with a number of guys, even a professor that she had her junior year.
“Really? One of your professors? Isn’t that against the rules?”
She looked at me like a teenage daughter looks at her mother.
“Oh shit, I think I just sounded like my mother.”
We both start laughing.
“We only went out a few times but he was a lot of fun.” She said with a sly smile.
“I see. Any by fun you mean?”
“Okay, he was pretty good in bed. Is that what you wanted to know.”
“Hey, you’re an adult. I have nothing against sex. In fact, I’m a big fan!”
When I say that I start to laugh and end up snorting, almost blowing wine out of my nose. Now we are both pretty giddy, a symptom of the wine and just having a good time.
“So, now that I know you’re not a virgin….”
Now it’s her turn to snort and she says, “God, no! I crossed that bridge in high school, but to your point, I did enough experimenting in college to have gotten a good education. I’ll just say that when it comes to sex, I am a fan too.”
We clink our glasses in a toast. “Now let’s get out of here and do some shopping.”
We go right to Nordstrom and start going through suits for her. We amass enough options to warrant a trip to the dressing room and I follow her in, the sales girl following behind us, her arms filled with clothes.
Analyse goes into the dressing room and starts trying on the various pieces. I am standing just outside acting as the relay for the sales girl to get different sizes or colors if necessary. Analyse opens up the door occasionally to get my opinion and I see the clothes she wore piled neatly in the corner of the dressing room. At one point Analyse is struggling with a tag from a jacket that is caught on her blouse. I step in to help her.
I start to step outside and Analyse stops me and says, “Just stay in here so I don’t have to keep coming out.”
The dressing room was plenty large so there was no reason not to stay inside. I also wanted to stay inside and check out Analyses’ cute little body. That damn wine is making me horny.
Once she removes the jacket and blouse she places them on the keep pile. She is facing away from me and when she slides the matching pencil skirt down over her cute little ass, I see that she is wearing a thong and her bare ass is just inches away from me. I can feel myself involuntarily licking my lips. I also wonder if she was doing that slowly and seductively for my benefit or was it just my imagination.
Standing there now in just her thong and bra, she turns to me and I am immediately drawn to her pink nipples which are clearly visible through her sheer bra. They are hard and look like little pencil erasers poking through her bra. It isn’t cold in the dressing room and I have a feeling that they got that way because I am in here with her.
She reaches up and cups them in her hands and gives them a little squeeze; I’m sure it’s for my benefit. “I just wish they were a little bigger,” she says.
Still staring at her boobs, I tell her, “I think başakşehir escort they are perfect.”
“Do you want to touch them?” she asks.
I look up at her face and before I answer she says, “I told you I did some experimenting in college but it wasn’t all with boys.”
I can feel my mouth drop open and I hesitate briefly before reaching toward her. She takes my hands and puts them right on her tits. She squeezes my hands over them and says, “I want you to. Please touch me. You are so sexy. Yesterday when I saw you on the golf course with no bra on, I just wanted to grab you and pull your shirt off and suck on those hard nipples. I think you feel the same way about me.”
Looking back up at her face, I see that she has lowered her eyes and is biting her bottom lip. She lowers her hands and I gently squeeze her round, firm boobs. They are so different from my own. My hands cover them completely as I gently knead them. I start to use my thumbs to rub her stiff nipples and it causes her to emit a soft moan. I stop for a moment and pull her bra up over her firm boobs and I’m fascinated as they drop right back into place once released from the soft cups.
I reach for her nipples and gently pull on them with my thumb and forefinger. She moans again and I pull myself closer. I pinch a little harder now and she moans a little louder. I’m afraid the sales clerk is going to hear us. I can’t help myself though. I give them a little twist and just as she starts to moan, I cover her lips with mine and kiss her passionately. I feel her tongue immediately push against my lips and I allow it to pass into my mouth and wrestle with my own tongue.
She now has her hands on my boobs as well and is rubbing them through my dress. As much as I want this to continue, this isn’t the right place. I pull away from her and tell her we need to stop for now.
She reluctantly agrees and we start to pick up what she has decided to keep, leaving the rest. As we leave the dressing room, I see the woman that had been helping us standing at the entrance to the dressing area with a smirk on her face. Maybe she doesn’t know what was going on but it makes me wetter than I am already to think that she does.
I almost forget that I need a new dress for tonight and we head for the dresses. I see a manikin wearing a pretty blue and white dress, cut low in the front and even lower in the back. It is flared at the bottom and looked like it came to about mid-thigh on the manikin.
I ask the sales woman to bring me two different sizes and I instruct Analyse to stay out of my dressing room so that we can get out of here without being thrown out. She just giggles and says, “I don’t know, getting thrown out of Nordstrom might be fun.”
“No, it wouldn’t, now go sit your LGBT ass over on that chair and I’ll be right back.”
She laughed out loud at that and went to sit down.
I tried on the smaller size first. It fit but just barely. I had a ton of cleavage showing and the back dropped all the way down to just above my ass. It is also shorter than I thought, coming about 2 or 3 inches above mid-thigh on my legs. I think about trying on the larger size but then change my mind.
Walking out to show Analyse, I twirl and ask her what she thinks.
Her eyes light up and she says, “You are going to get a lot of attention in that dress.”
I ask her if she thinks it is too tight but she is shaking her head no and biting her bottom lip again. That is my sign to go ahead and buy it.
One last stop before we go. I want to get some shoes to go with the dress. The shoes are downstairs and we take the escalator. The shoe section is strangely quiet. There are usually lots of women in this department but not today.
A really handsome guy, probably in his late 20’s or early 30’s, wearing a nice suit introduces himself as Antonio and asks if he can help us, in what sounds like an Italian accent. I look over at Analyse who is openly checking him out. He has broad shoulders and longer black hair neatly styled. He was so well put together that there is a good chance he could be gay. However, from the way he is looking at the two of us, I’m going to guess he’s not. I show him my dress and tell him I am looking for heels to match. He asks, “How high?”
“I’m going to wear them dancing so nothing too crazy; maybe 3 inches?”
He looks at the dress and then at my legs and points to a chair. I go and sit in the soft leather chair and he says, “I have several styles in mind. Let me pick some out for you. Do you trust me?”
I think that’s kind of an odd question but I nod indicating that I do. I sit down in the chair and I expect that he is going to go and get the shoes but he pulls up a small stool in front of me and grabs one of those foot measuring devices. I start to tell him that I wear a 7 ½ but he just smiles at me and says something about how different styles fit differently. I wasn’t paying that much attention because he had such a beautiful smile and the most amazing dark eyes.
I have always had a thing about teeth. I guy with crooked teeth, no matter how good looking otherwise, always kind of turned me off. This guy has the straightest, whitest teeth I have ever seen. He could be the Italian Dental Association poster boy. And those eyes. They are dark brown with flecks of gold. With his dark hair, he was stunningly handsome.
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