I had always been proud of john. He was
always helping out in any way he could,
and
after his father died, he really stepped up
to
the plate by getting a job to help pay what
bills he could and doing a lot of work
around the house that’d usually be
reserved
for a man. He was more like a man than he
realized though, at least in terms of
maturity.
He had maintained his grades, which were
superb to begin with, and had earned a
scholarship to the local state university.
My job as a personal trainer kept me
around
enough to take care of a lot of things
around the house, as I could have clients
come over and train in the basement once
occupied by my late husband.
He had passed away when John was only
3,
and in doing so, left the majority of work
in
raising john to me. I dated for a year or
two
after his passing however I quickly found
out that the pool of men to draw from
wasn’t quite what it’d used to be. I guess I
had gotten lucky…
I was just now starting to get back into
the
dating scene however, and had upped my
training so-to-speak in an effort to
impress
the men I might later be spending a lot of
my time with. The reeling in used to be the
hard part, now I needed to work on my
bait.
It didn’t take to long to get in to “fighting
shape” I had always ran, and I still do to
this
day, although not competitively like I did
up
through college. I always had a pretty
good
metabolism, so I reality, I only needed to
shed about ten or fifteen pounds.
Although
a little bit of my mother in me was making
me feel like it should’ve been twenty-five
or
thirty.
I wholeheartedly knew this wasn’t the
case
though, as I was definitely what men
would
consider curvaceous. I was 43 now, and
needed the help of color in box to
maintain
the same tantalizing brunette locks I had
in
my younger years, but I still felt my body
was great, without the help of any silicone
or liposuction machines. My butt was still
firm, I guess my Hispanic heritage helped a
slight bit, my mother was from Spain, and
I’m thinking she was to thank for what
often got cat calls and whistles after a
workout whilst walking home or to the
bus
stop in some form-fitting sweats. This was
especially the case when I was training a
client over in the rough part of town.
I knew I had a great pair. You learn pretty
quickly when you’re 15 and walking
though
a crowded mall with your friends and
teenage boys and married men alike are
starring at your tits. They were full and
firm
34C’s, at least that’s the size bra I wore. My
Curvy figure made it a bit harder to find
the
right fit, as my hourglass figure is not the
same one shared by all bra consumers.
Plus,
the little extra tightness pushed them up
ever so slightly, increasing my already
fantastic cleavage and aiding me just a bit
more in securing one more free drink
after
a hard nights work.
Well, I know I’ve been long in setting up
my
little story here, but this is where our little
story gets interesting.
After one of those aforementioned “hard
days of work” I went to the local watering
hole with my best friend Stacy. We had
always been close; we roomed together in
college, and now were both personal
trainers, so she felt my plight when it came
to nights like this.
I was throwing back wines like it was
going
out of style, which always seemed to be
occurring on half-price wine Wednesdays,
while listening to Stacy tell some of her
racy
and risqu?tories of conquest. Evidently,
Stacy
had taken to catering to the good-looking
sector of our clientele, and had taken to
seducing them. She noted how, “It only
takes about 5 minutes of flirting or about
30
seconds of ‘accidental’ rubbing or
touching
for the little head to take over the big
one.”
God hearing her stories made me ache.
It’d
been years, since I’d felt anything more
than
a vibrator inside of me. Hearing her tell of
sucking of would-be CEO’s or even a
spoiled
son of one made me yearn for a real dick.
A
real fucking cock that could pulse and
throb,
read me, become one with me, and then
release all of that pent up passion deep in
parched throat, or in my now moist, and
warm pussy.
I almost sat and fucking rubbed one out
right there at the bar. Damn. I had been so
long since I’d heard anything of the sort/
sure, I read my romance novels and
watched some porn, but it was all fake,
and
I knew it. This was real. This was
happening.
I sat and listened for a few more hours
before she graciously dropped me back
off
at my place, on the car ride home, I
noticed
some my juices. Not only could I detect the
sweet aroma floating from my inner
thighs,
but as I happened to look down, I noticed
that 2 beads of my sweet pussy juice were

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