“Keep doing that… don’t stop!”

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“Keep doing that…don’t stop.”

This was crazy, the instruction came from halfway around the world. ‘TexTom’ was telling me to orgasm, to cum!

“Oh g od…I’m cu mmin g… Tom…I’m c umm ing.”

I was typing one handed, as the fingers on my other hand were rubbing my clit.

I shuddered as my body pitched forwards over the keyboard. Tom couldn’t hear my gasp, my moan out loud, but it was pure pleasure.

“Good girl, same time tomorrow.”

The words on the screen told the story of the last four days. He signed off and so did I, and I reached for a tissue before shutting my laptop.

“Shit,” I said to myself.

Somehow, I’d found myself sucked into a world of ‘roleplay’ in a chatroom. But why? How? How does a thirty year old married women start having cyber sex daily, with an older man thousands of miles away?

It was complicated. Mark, my husband, worked away for weeks at a time, his job took him to the far east several times a year. I worked part time in a health centre, and without children found myself reliant on my two hobbies of photography and writing poetry.

One afternoon, when I’d been feeling a bit low, I’d written a poem opening up my heart to my loneliness. I looked at the accumulation of poems that I’d written, and wondered why I’d never put them online, and so I looked as to where I could ‘publish’ them. One of the websites I found also published erotic stories.

That first afternoon I must have masturbated and cum three times. It shocked me, because although I had a vibrator for use when Mark wasn’t there, I’d never tended to use it in the daytime.

The next day when I went back online I found that the same website had chatrooms. I had to make up a profile with a user name, so I became ‘KateeB30uk,’ and I tentatively entered one or two of the rooms.

The room headings were fascinating, although I only entered the UK one at first. I didn’t enter any conversation and just read what others were saying. It was pretty mundane so I got braver and entered a couple of other rooms.

One, in particular, fascinated me. ‘Younger women for older men.’

I’d always fantasised secretly about much older men ever since university, when I’d slept with one of my tutors. So when TexTom sent a message saying, “Hi Kate, older guy from Texas who enjoys chatting to intelligent younger women” I replied, and a conversation began.

In a very short space of time I was carried along, becoming more open, and revealing more and more about myself. Incredibly as the chat got more intimate I found myself becoming aroused.

I knew I had to shut it down, I didn’t do that sort of thing, but when Tom signed off, I’d already promised to chat again next day.

Sure enough, the following afternoon we carried on where we’d left off, and the chat developed much more intimacy. When Tom suggested I ‘touch myself’ I couldn’t believe that I followed his instructions.

When I had an orgasm, I tried to hide it, but he knew, and the next day we did it again.

After a week I left the chat rooms alone, I was feeling both guilty and confused. I didn’t know why I was being so driven towards sex.

I lay in bed every night, using my vibrator and seeing those words from the screen telling me to, “Keep doing that, don’t stop.”

I tried concentrating on my job, and on my photography. I had many images that needed processing, so that I could produce a photo book of last year’s holiday in Venice.

Greg across the road, a retired art teacher, had been giving me tips about using editing software. Sometimes we’d chat about it standing in the street, occasionally he’d come over for a coffee when Mark was around.

Greg was nearly sixty and was divorced, intellectually stimulating, and I realised over time, quite attractive.

Over the weekend, following the week of me having cyber sex with TexTom, Mark face timed me with bad news. Instead of his planned homecoming the next week, it was to be postponed by ten days. I was mad, I was disappointed, I felt second best.

So when on the Monday morning I was getting into my car to set off for work, and Greg was putting his bin out, I stopped to ask him a quick question about editing. It ended up with me asking him over that evening to solve the issue.

Greg arrived, with a memory stick and a bottle of wine, which I wasn’t expecting, so we opened it and chatted for a while before Greg set about explaining the solution to my problem. Sitting at the table in front of my laptop I became quite relaxed with Greg, but as he was explaining and showing me a technique of ‘painting’ over an area of an image, his words made my heart jump.

“Keep doing that, just keep doing it, don’t stop.”

I froze, and inadvertently grabbed his arm. The words instantly brought back the memory of TexTom’s insistance that I cum.

Greg was intuitive enough to realise that something had clicked within me.

“You ok Kate?”

Quickly releasing my grip on Greg’s arm, I apologised.

“No, it’s ok, just a flashback, me being bahis firmaları silly.”

That must have intrigued Greg because he said quietly, “I wondered what on earth it was. If it’s something worrying, I’m good at giving advice, all those years of pastoral care in school!”

Greg chuckled, and by now I was looking downwards, feeling rather guilty about the flashback in my mind.

“No, it’s ok, just something I’m not very proud of, I guess it’s partly to do with Mark being away so much.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence for a few seconds before Greg added, “Well if you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, you’re very kind,” and I really wanted to open up, but was too shy, or perhaps ashamed to at that moment.

We continued on for another few minutes until I finally said, “Thanks ever so much, I think I’m on the right track now. How about that bottle of wine?”

Greg uncorked the wine while I got a couple of glasses, and we both settled into our seats in the lounge. The conversation flowed easily, it was the first time we’d had an ‘in depth’ chat, other than computing, even though we’d been neighbours for several years.

I found out a lot about his ex wife, and how he’d been caught out being unfaithful. It was refreshing that he was so open, and it made me want to be open and frank with him.

“I’ve always been faithful to Mark,” and even as it rolled off my tongue I felt my face reddening, and the moment of hesitation gave away the sense of guilt about my interaction with TexTom on the internet.

Greg looked at me from where he was sitting, and quizzically raised his eyebrows, almost expecting me to continue. He just said, “But you’ve been tempted.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

Greg waited for a response, and maybe I should have changed the subject, but I carried on and replied, “I have, but I’ve resisted…” and then I stuttered, “but this week…I’ve been talking to a guy on the internet.”

“And you’re meeting him?”

“God, no, he lives in the US…no, but I did stuff with him when he asked me to, sort of joined in with him, but by typing it.”

“You mean you had cybersex with him!” Greg was smiling. “Oh Kate, please! Please don’t worry…I’ve done that…not many times, but I’ve done it. Don’t feel too guilty. I probably wouldn’t tell Mark,” and then after a pause, “but after a while it might get a bit tame, it’s nothing like the real thing!”

“I don’t intend doing it again!” I said it with a certain amount of disdain.

Greg was so nice about it and we poured another glass of wine for each of us. Our opening up to one another, had relaxed us a lot, and the conversation then turned back on him, and returned to the subject of his infidelity.

“What was the woman like, the one you had an affair with?”

I thought I was being quite forward, and was half expecting Greg to be evasive.

But he was very frank.

“I had two affairs, I’m afraid, both with much younger women.”

Now he had my complete interest and I wanted to know even more. I think he could tell that, and so he explained.

“The first was Louise, the daughter of friends of ours. She was only twenty five, but was married to a real knob! Anyway he caught us in bed together, and the shit hit the fan. Needless to say me and Mary nearly separated then, but we managed to patch it up.”

“The second was Ruby, a young history teacher at my school. She was thirty, divorced, and we used to have sex after school in my stockroom. It went on for over a year until Mary found me out, then that was it, we separated, and then divorced… my fault, I own up!”

“There must have been two sides to it, but I won’t pry,” I replied, I didn’t want to be nosey.

“So your Texan, if he’d been living in the UK would you have met up?”

“God no! if I fancy someone in reality, I have to reign myself in. With Mark working away so much I keep myself under control!”

We both burst out laughing, and Greg finally said that it was time to go back home.

“I’ve really enjoyed our chat, Kate, a bit like a counselling session, but I really feel better! And if you need any more help I’m just across the road.”

I replied that I’d enjoyed it too. On the way out we had a brief hug, and I watched him cross the road back home.

I went to bed with Greg on my mind, thinking that his history must say something about his sexual appetite, and as I started to cum using my vibrator, I concluded that he must gain relief in his own way too.

Next morning, as I rushed around getting ready for work, I noticed the memory stick that Greg had left behind, so before I set off I went across the road to return it.

Greg had been renovating the porch door, burning off the old paint and he’d taped it up, so I went round the sideway and heard music coming from the garden. Thinking it strange for Greg to be in the garden quite so early in the morning, I bypassed the kitchen door and peered round the corner of the house into the garden.

I could just see that kaçak iddaa the patio doors were slightly open, and not thinking I stepped towards them. I was about to shout out “Greg” above the sound of the music, when I froze.

Through the glass I could just see Greg in an armchair, half turned away from me, dressed in a dressing gown which was pulled open, and he was rapidly rubbing his erect cock up and down.

I stood motionless, fascinated for just a few seconds, before suddenly, Greg knew I was there.

He leapt to his feet, pulling his dressing gown across himself.

“Oh god, Kate…I’m sorry…”

He stood there forlorn, embarrassed, not knowing whether to make eye contact or not.

“I brought your memory stick back, you forgot it last night.”

As Greg self consciously reached out to take it I added, “Please don’t feel awful about this, I shouldn’t have crept round the back. Us single folk have to do these things, we’ll laugh about this another time, I’m sure.”

Greg looked at me still crestfallen, and unsure, and muttered a very quiet, “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

I decided to be cheery, and turning to go I said, “Gotta go to work now, I’ll speak to you tonight, but please don’t let this ruin your day!”

And with that I was gone, retreating back across the road to my car.

I’m not sure whether Greg had a dreadful day or not, being caught out like that, but from time to time at work, I wondered if he’d continued to masturbate after I’d left, and that thought actually excited me.

That evening I arrived home, changed into a sloppy track suit and had a glass of wine before just having some ham and salad. I did look out of the window, across at Greg’s house, but there was no sign of life.

I found that the image of Greg masturbating, and indeed Greg himself kept resurfacing in my mind. When I sat down after tidying up I got into some editing on my laptop, using the advice Greg had given me.

It wasn’t long before I hit a problem. I decided to email Greg about it, I couldn’t text as I didn’t know his mobile number.

His reply arrived back after some twenty minutes with a first sentence that said, ‘I thought I might not hear from you after this morning. I thought you’d think I was a bit creepy or pervy, sorry again!’

And then it went on to offer advice on my problem, before ending, ‘Sorry again, hope it won’t spoil our friendship. Feel free to pop over anytime, but for god’s sake ring the bell or cough loudly!’ And it ended with a winking imoji.

It seemed all was well, it just needed me to send a conciliatory message to say I was cool with the whole thing.

Greg’s email came back with his mobile number and a message saying, ‘Just in case, texting is quicker and easier.”

When I texted straight back it felt a bit like there was something going on. I was beginning to get little tinges of excitement which took me back to my ‘single’ days when a new person in my life was on the horizon.

I was realising that’s Mark’s absence from home was having a deep effect, and Greg, despite our difference in ages, was tangling with my emotions.

The next morning, as I left for work, I glanced across the road and saw Greg in his bedroom window. There was a brief wave of recognition, but even that seemed to raise my heart rate.

I managed to have a productive day, and the constant work flow took my mind away from domestic stuff, but on my drive home Greg resurfaced in my consciousness and began to add a temptation to my day.

“For god’s sake get a grip,” I kept telling myself, but the crucial moment of decision came when I was preparing my evening meal and pouring my glass of wine.

An email from Mark came through, ostensibly about the fact that he would be flying home at the weekend. That was nice to know, but the detail of how he’d just got in from a night club in Singapore after an evening out with his boss, filled me with resentment.

As I ate my ‘ready meal’ I became more and more uptight, and maybe I would have just got drunk if Greg had not texted at that moment.

‘If you’re not busy and you fancy a chat, and a glass of wine, come over.’

There was a frisson of excitement, and an element of revenge when I replied, ‘I’d love to, in half an hour.’

The brief reply said, ‘Great.’

In a very few minutes I’d shoved the dishes in the dish washer, and jumped into the shower. I found myself opening my wardrobe looking for something sexy and revealing.

As I pulled out a tightish red dress with a low neck, I found myself muttering, “I’ll show him.”

I couldn’t help feeling that I was on a mission as I crossed the road towards Greg’s, on some quite high heels. If I was seen by any of the other neighbours they must have taken a double take as did Greg when he opened the front door.

“Err…come in…err…you look great.”

His jaw was slowly lifted from the carpet, and I thought that I must justify my appearance with some sort of excuse.

“I was going out with a girlfriend tonight, but she let me kaçak bahis down just before I got your text, so I’m rather overdressed!”

“I don’t mind at all, my goodness you look wonderful.”

That comment lifted me completely, and I followed Greg into the lounge and watched him pour the wine.

Sitting opposite him I saw him looking at my legs admiringly, The dress was short so when I crossed my legs it rode up showing more of my thighs. It seemed ages since I’d used my sexuality to arouse someone, and it gave me a thrill.

After I’d crossed and recrossed my legs several times, my glass was empty, and Greg got up awkwardly to fetch the bottle. I think, because of his erection, he wanted to refocus on something else, so he suggested we look at some recent images he’d edited.

I got to my feet to follow him into the kitchen where his laptop was on the breakfast bar. I made a thing about getting up, to make sure that he got a good look at my thighs, and even possibly my panties.

If Greg thought that moving to the kitchen would rid him of his erection, he was disappointed. We sat on stools next to each other so that I could look over his shoulder at the screen. Even though he’d half turned it towards me, I still leaned over, pressing my boobs against his upper arm, and perched on the wooden stool, my ass slid round forcing my barely covered thighs up against his.

He was getting very flustered, stopping and starting his conversation, and I was enjoying the influence I was having. I really wanted to push it further.

“Sorry Greg I’m invading your space a bit, shall we move to a bigger table in the lounge?”

I moved my shoulders a bit which rubbed my boobs back and forth on his shoulder.

“I’m ok if you are?” was Greg’s reply in a slightly croaky voice.

I decided that I would go for broke.

“That’s ok then, I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

As I emphasised the word ‘uncomfortable’ I placed my right hand on his crotch. As my fingers gripped the erection beneath his trousers, Greg froze, gasped, and gripped the breakfast bar all at the same time.

“I think I ought to complete the little situation I saw yesterday morning. Just don’t say anything.”

I sat up on the stool and with both hands unzipped Greg’s fly, and the button at the waist. It wasn’t too difficult to tug the waistband of his boxers down and pull his cock out revealing how hard he was.

Greg exhaled and muttered, “Oh shit!”

“Quiet, and let me play!” I was being very deliberate and assertive.

I began to rub the cock up and down, quite slowly at first, and Greg started to relax a bit, although still gripping the breakfast bar.

I was fascinated by seeing the reaction to my movements, it was almost like a study in male arousal. Gradually I increased the speed of my hand, then slowed again. I saw the gradual oozing of some precum from the head of his cock, and I stopped to use one finger tip to smooth it over the spongy flesh.

That brought a shudder from Greg as I went back to rubbing his cock faster and faster.

“God Kate, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s the idea Greg, to finish off, what didn’t happen yesterday!”

His whole body began to tense, his knuckles were white from gripping the breakfast bar.

First there came a gasp, and then the first spurt of semen shot upwards and over my forearm. Greg groaned, “Oh fuck, …ohhhh.”

Following the first eruption came a second, and then several surges of spunk over my fingers and the back of my hand.

As it became a trickle Greg said, “Oh god Kate, I don’t know what to say, Jesus, that was so good.”

I chuckled, “We got there in the end. When I caught you I really wanted to see you finish!”

Greg reached for a tea towel, and passed it to me to wipe his spunk from my arm and hand. He used it too to wipe his cock and eventually zipped himself up.

He looked at me a little unsure, “You didn’t feel sorry for me did you, I’d hate it if you did it because you think I’m a lonely old man?”

I stood up from the stool and put my arms up on his shoulder, and with my face inches from his I whispered, “If you want to know the truth, I felt very horny, and I think you’re a very fanciable man.”

When I kissed him, it felt good, just a short kiss, but fully on the lips, and when I looked at him again his eyes sparkled.

“C’mon, let’s go and sit on the sofa, I want to know more about your past!”

Settling down I curled up beside him, and put my head half on his shoulder, and half on his chest.

“What do you want to know, I’m an open book?”

“Well, tell me about your history teacher, you said you had sex in your stockroom, how did that work?”

“You mean Ruby…” there was a wry smile, ‘I guess it started at a Christmas do, she was divorced, a bit drunk, and we had always had some flirty banter in the staffroom. We shared a mini bus home to various people’s houses, and on the back seat we started touching each other, unbeknown to the others onboard. I got some quite flirty texts over the Christmas holidays, and we started secretly texting back and forth until we went back to school in the new year. Inevitably we had sex, and like I said it was in my stockroom after school finished.”

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