My First Journey from Home

I used to be a teacher at a secondary school and, I like to think, a very good one. I am a good communicator and I was able to unlock the students’ imaginations and work ethic through being nice, and kind. Old-fashioned values, but always effective. And it wasn’t an act. I’m interested in people and at my most energised when collaborating. I left teaching five years ago, exhausted by the never-ending targets and exam factory expectations. Now, at 46, I was exploring options career-wise. Which, in short, meant I had too much time on my hands and not much coming in. My ends were being met, as my partner of five years had recently moved in. She’s lovely, supportive, creative and genuine. Our relationship is good, strong, but largely sexless. It’s difficult to define why. It was never prize-winning but sometime in our first year together it just seemed to dry up. Since then I’d been fighting: fighting the demon desire. I’ve never been unfaithful, or hadn’t then, but I was constantly horny. Equally, I knew how much I’d changed for the positive since meeting Sue and I was loathe to abandon something that was so positive. A year ago an innocent friendship, largely online, had taken me to the brink of infidelity when she’d suddenly sent a topless picture through. Tempted doesn’t come close. I was all over the shop – desperate for the release of the obviously promised sex, but determined not to throw away what I had. But it’d planted the seed…

Two weeks ago I went out on a leaving do for one of my former teaching colleagues. He’s a good friend and I was happy to go, even though I knew I’d be faced with some colleagues I wouldn’t remember and many more I’d never met.

The night started slowly but after a couple of beers I began to relax and was enjoying catching up with some old friends. One of them, an art teacher called Sarah, was talking passionately about her faculty and, as she turned to address some of her team, one of them in particular caught my interest. I didn’t hear what her boss was saying but whatever it was, was bringing out a cheeky smile from my new focus. She was introduced to me as Beth and I knew two things immediately: one was that she was gorgeous, and two was that she was far too young for me. 26. Twenty years my junior. Not a problem for the Rod Stewarts of this world, but not a realistic match for someone in a provincial town in the north of England. And anyway, I was attached. An irrelevant thought.

Within minutes, the small group had thinned and I found myself alone with the charming Beth. She had shoulder-length wavy strawberry blonde hair, big, lively eyes and a winning, flirty smile. She also had on a vest top which revealed a cleavage between medium-sized perky breasts that I tried hard not to ogle. The number of times that the flirty smile appeared told me that she was at least not appalled by my age and, since I look younger than my years, I may well have presented as a viable possibility. As the others returned, talk started of a visit to a cheesy 80s bar not far away. I haven’t danced for years and I certainly wouldn’t have intended to rekindle that relationship at a cheese-fest. But it was Beth that was now, suddenly, persuading me. Repeated reaches across the table from her to touch my upper arm did her powers of persuasion no harm at all. At a noisy moment elsewhere she looked at me intently and said, ‘I’ll probably never see you again after tonight and you only live once’. Before I could fully digest the possible meanings of this enticing sentence, she stood, turned her hips towards me and said, ‘plus, I’m wearing leather trousers’. With that, she gave me a winning smile, flicked her hair and made her way to the ladies, leaving me with a sudden and urgent bulge in my trousers. Yep, I was going to the 80s bar.

The next hour or so was uneventful: the walk there provided little in the way of flirting and I found myself at the bar chatting to two other old friends at first. I kept my eye on Beth though. She was already dancing freely with a friend and with an array of horny middle-aged men watching on intently. Dirty bastards…! Eventually I had reached sufficient alcohol levels and headed off to the dancefloor. My feet felt disconnected to the rest of my body and my rhythm was more staccato than andantino. Beth was still in her own little world but would occasionally reward me with eye contact and a knowing smile. Soon, a quieter corner of the dancefloor became clear and, as my confidence and rhythm gradually returned, I was able to dance her over to the quiet-zone. Immediately we got closer and were soon engaged in a playful tango, allowing me my first touch of her petite, lithe body. The firmness of her back muscles told me she was fit and the way her hand just nestled ever so gently into the waistband of my trousers told me that she was, surely, as horny as I was.

But the night never quite panned out as I had hoped. She would dance with me, another but of contact and smiley eyes but then she’d drift away, dance with others. Gaziantep Escort Numaraları Whilst I was desperate for her attention, I was also 46. And in a relationship. The alcohol had fuelled my confidence and arousal but had not completely removed my judgement. As the hour clicked round to 3am I realised a few things: she had started texting someone in the last hour and who else does one text in the early hours but one’s love interest; she had started drinking Coke in the last hour so was clearly trying to sober herself up; I’d had a brilliant night of unexpected flirting with a gorgeous woman 20 years my junior and I was grateful for that. And I could wake up in the morning with no guilt. Perfect.

As the last few songs were played we sat together and chatted properly for the first time. And, surprise surprise, she had a partner of 11 years. Not bad for a 26 year-old. She had taken her heels off and her beautiful feet were exposed as well as her wonderful cleavage as she leant forward. Without thinking and totally honestly, I mustered, ‘You are so cute’. She smiled and carried on talking. As the lights came up, the few members of our wider group gathered and we all stumbled out towards the taxi rank. Through some skilful negotiating, I organised it so that it was just Beth and I left but, since she lived many miles from me, sharing the cab was impractical. Nevertheless I was surprised and disappointed when she climbed into hers without so much as a backward glance, let alone a hug or a cheeky goodnight kiss. And then she was gone. I smiled a wistful smile. The night that had promised so little had suddenly suggested so much but had ultimately left me frustrated. But what a night! And what a boost to my ego. Beth had clearly had no intention of taking anything further but nevertheless had picked me out of a crowd of much younger men to spend her flirtatious night with. End of story.

Or so I thought. The following Tuesday saw me waking with a very bad back, to which I’m one of many millions of victims. I felt old and uninspired at the unstructured day ahead. It was raining hard so I made the decision not to walk the dog straight away and instead jumped into the bath to try to ease my back. Just as the water had stopped running and all was quiet, I heard a ping from my mobile to tell me that some new communication had arrived. I was irritated that I’d not brought my phone into the bathroom – this could have been a job offer and I knew I wouldn’t settle. Bringing the bath to a premature end I saw that it was actually an email from Sarah – I’d given her my card when we talking in the first bar. After some work stuff and some niceties came the sentence that sent my pulse racing,

‘What have you done to my Beth?’

Shit. What had I done? I’d had a lot to drink but I pride myself on treating people gently and with respect. What had I done? And was the shit about to hit the fan. Without pausing for thought I replied immediately,

‘Jesus. I don’t know. What have I done? I don’t remember doing anything untoward. Is she ok?’

And then I waited. And waited. Teachers – completely bound by timetables. It was two and a half hours later that I finally got the reply. Two and a half long hours where I tried to relive every detail of the night out. Had I been grabbing her to dance when I remembered it as a mutual decision? Jesus the time passed slowly. When her reply finally came, it was not what I expected,

‘Is she ok? No, not really. What have you done? Turned her world upside down. Have you done anything untoward? No but I think she wishes you had…’

What?! Am I reading this right? My stomach churned in excitement. Was this heading where I think it was heading? And why was I so completely excited? I was sober now and yet thoughts of my partner just evaporated. I had to know more,

‘What does that mean…?!’

And then another huge wait. An hour passed. An hour of excitement, guilt and impatience. When a text from my partner arrived I nearly jumped out of my skin. Even then thought the guilt didn’t kick in. That’s only now…

Eventually when the email arrived it had a different name at the top of it. Beth. And it was from a personal, not her work, address.


Holy shit!

‘Hello. Sarah says you’re feeling a bit out of sorts…’

‘Ha! That’s one way of putting it. Bastard…’

‘Bastard? What have I done?’

‘Messed with my head…’

‘How? All I did was spend a pleasant evening with a young woman…’

‘And told me I was cute…and danced with me…and bought me drinks…and made me feel…’

‘Made you feel…?’


Jesus. Jumping off the cliff moment. Decision time. The first few messages had been playful banter. This was an acknowledgement of desire and thus to continue would be to either kill it stone dead or to begin a deceit. I started to type

‘Well I certainly did want you but we’d had loads to drink and’

I stopped typing. I’d been here before; just getting to the place of maximum excitement and opportunity, only to close it down. I started to think about my deathbed. Would I lying be there and thinking ‘brilliant – I got to sleep with a 26 year-old’ or ‘what a prick – blew the best relationship I ever had for some 26 year-old that meant nothing’?

A new message arrived from Beth,

‘Sorry. Too much info?’

I’d been staring at the wall too long it seems.

‘No! Not at all. It just stopped me in my tracks though. You jumped in the taxi and didn’t look back. I assumed you thought I was a pain in the ass’.

‘Ha! No, not quite! I knew that if I paused I’d have kissed you and I’ve never kissed anyone other than my fella’.

‘I’ve never been unfaithful to my partner either’



Something in me changed after that one word. It was so full of promise, so close. She’d made the first move and, for once in my life, I was going to follow my gut not my head. I wanted her so badly and to hell with the consequences. I’d probably be left by my partner and beaten to a pulp by hers but I didn’t care. This was in the balance and I was going to make it tip my way.

‘Let’s meet’.

Fortune favours the brave. And the direct. A few minutes passed before her reply,




Thursday evening. I’m staying at a hotel for a work event the following day. It’s 30 miles away. Can you get there?’

‘Of course’.

‘Great. I think…!’

‘Wear those leather trousers again…’

‘You liked them?’

‘I liked them’

‘Ok. What else?’

My heart was pounding and my cock was achingly stiff.

‘A vest top like on Saturday. But with no bra underneath’


‘Anything else’

‘Nothing under the leather trousers’


‘And I want to see those cute feet’


And with a hotel address and a time of meeting she was gone.

Tuesday night was agony. I knew what I was doing was wrong and the guilt kicked in as soon as my partner got home from work. I was irritable and made excuses throughout the evening so that I didn’t have to spend time with her. The inevitable row happened before bed and, for the second time that day, I was spontaneous and inventive,

‘Look, I’m sorry, I know I’m being a dick but I’m just not coping well with this lack of work and structure in my days. I feel like I need to get away for a couple of days. On my own. Get a bit of perspective, a bit of a change of scenery’.

And there the lie was woven. For the sake of peace and probably as a break from me she agreed and Thursday and Friday night were mine to do with as I pleased. I limped my way through Wednesday evening without pissing her off too much and then it was Thursday. I spent the morning methodically grooming every inch of me to ensure that my 46 year-old physique was as attractive as it was ever going to be. I spent some of Thursday afternoon wishing my stomach was smaller and my cock was bigger. And then I realised that, whatever it was that attracted Beth to me, it sure as shit wasn’t my self-doubt. I’d been confident on Saturday and I needed to be tonight, despite the nerves.

7.30. Reassuring text sent to my partner and I was sat with a glass of wine at the hotel bar. Shitting myself but more excited that I could ever remember. 5 minutes passed. I tried to sit still, collected but my eyes were flicking in all directions. Where was she? Had I been made a dick ok? Was her boyfriend going to turn up instead of her? A ping on my phone.




Ok. It’s shit or bust. One way or another my life is about to change. I heard the lift arrive at the ground floor and suddenly there she was. Dressed exactly as I remember her. She stepped out of the lift and started walking towards the bar. She walked every slowly possibly to give her enough time to spot me, possibly because she was nervous or possibly to stop the obvious sway to her unfettered breasts. It didn’t work. Her tits moved beneath her low-cut vest top and I was gone.


‘You look. So cute’.

I stood to kiss her on both cheeks – our first intimate contact – and I could feel her shaking. And I suspect she could feel the same from me. The barman paid more attention to me than Beth but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She joined me in a glass of wine and we drank, in silence. I couldn’t think of a single word to say. All I could do was smile at her and try not to stare at her hard nipples under the vest top. She would smile coquettishly and then look around nervously. After 10 long minutes I said the only thing I could think of saying,

‘Shall we?’

A beat. A smile. A nod.

As she stood I got the most amazing view of her breasts and she saw me looking. She deliberately took an age to fully stand, knowing full well the effect it was having. The bulge in my jeans would have been obvious to anyone looking. And it was obvious to Beth who looked, looked some more, looked me in the eye and smiled. She turned back to the lift and I just stared at her leather-clad ass. No sign of any underwear.

For some reason, I was determined not to resort to cliché in the lift and kiss her as soon as the doors closed. Instead I established a level of control by standing at the back of the lift and positioning her directly in front of me. I put my hands on her hips and leant into her, enough so that she’d feel the hardness of my cock, but not enough so I’d be a douchebag grinding my way into her. She pushed back a little and I leant down to kiss her neck, so gently. At the same time I reached up with my right hand and, very deliberately pulled down the right side of her vest, exposing one beautiful breast. She sighed. I nearly came in my pants.

Once inside the door to her room, all cliché-avoiding disappeared and we grabbed each other whilst leaning on the closing door. Our first kiss was breathless and awkward and our hands were all over each other’s backs, under our shirts. I was desperate for her. I’d never been so turned on in my life. But I was determined to do this properly. So I pulled back, steadied her hands and led her over to the bed. I sat on the edge but kept her standing so my face was now at breast-height. She leant down to me and we kissed again but slower this time. She nibbled gently on my lips and I let her do whatever she wanted. Our tongues met but this time gently, almost demurely but the sensations were unreal. I felt like she was kissing my very core. Reluctantly I pulled away. She stood up straight and looked down at me quizzically. With a smile I slowly lifted my hands to her hips and slowly started to pull up her vest top. As the first inch of belly skin was revealed I leant into kiss it ever so gently. It was flat but with just a gently mound leading down to below the trouser line. As I kissed her, she sighed and I took this as a sign to continue. As more and more flesh was revealed I used my hands around her back to stroke her beautiful flesh and my mouth to kiss and gently lick her stomach.

Soon there was nowhere to go but onto the swell of her breasts. I looked up and she was staring at me intently, biting her lip and breathing deeply. She nodded her approval to continue. Slowly, so slowly, I lifted her top to reveal just the underside of her breasts. Their swell took me to a new level of arousal and I could feel that in was leaking pre-cum into my pants. I tried to move as slowly as I had been doing but I was overcome with lust and just had to see them. I moved my hands under the vest and cupped both full breasts in my hands. They felt full and so pert, so, well 26. And the nipples were pushing into my palms. I could resist no longer and stood, pulling the vest over her head. We kissed again, urgently and she started pulling at my belt and pulling my shirt over my head. Within seconds we were topless together and both of our hands were fumbling in the top of each other’s trousers. Beth is six inches shorter than me so she got to my cock long before I was able to reach her pussy but my hand did travel far enough to realise that she was probably clean-shaven. Another layer of arousal. I’d seen many shaved pussies on screens but never in the flesh.

Beth grabbed my cock under my underwear and held it tight between both hands. It was like she just wanted to hold it for a while, treasure it. That was fine with me. But then she slid slowly down to her knees and started to pull down my jeans and underwear. Moment of truth. She was at larger-than-I-wished belly height and was now face-to-face with my smaller-than-I-wished cock. She held it, kissed it gently on the tip, looked up at me lovingly and just said,


I don’t know to this day if she was just saying what I wanted to hear or she meant it. But god was it what I wanted, no, needed, to hear. And, with that, she took my whole length into her mouth. Jesus. I nearly passed out. Here I was, a very sexual but lowly-sexed 46 year-old, gradually drifting into middle-aged stupor, and this 26 year-old petite beauty was topless and sucking my throbbing cock. Within a minute I could feel my cum rising and panic struck. I wanted to make this last, not blow my load before I’d even got her naked. I tried to pull back, despite myself, but she clung on tight. I tried gently lifting her head away but she clung on tight.

‘Beth, please, I’m gonna cum if you don’t…’

She sucked harder and worked her tongue even more feverishly around the swollen end of my dick. I knew now what she was doing and surrendered. The cum rose and exploded into her mouth and my knees buckled. Still she clung on and sucked every last drop from me. It was, without doubt, the most intense sexual experience of my life to that date. I let out enough guttural noises to startle anyone in the next room and cared not one jot. Eventually, finally, Beth released me from her mouth. Expecting a smile, or a swallow or a lip-licking, I was instead surprised to see her eyes closed and a full body shudder from her. Her breasts swayed magnificently.

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