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Just Do It



Just do it.  One of the most famous slogans around.  We can thank Nike for that.  But we’ve seen that slogan adopted in so may other ways that it no longer belongs in performance sport alone and has become a mantra for so many of us.  I, for one, am glad that I took Nike’s advice.


For the longest time, I’d been one of those reserved soccer mums, although in my case the sports were more footy and cricket.  You know, suppressing the wild side of me to make sure the kids and the hubby were fine, not drawing attention to myself, not causing controversy, not wanting to be gossip fodder for the neighbourhood.  Until it just got a little too much and I said fuck it.


Just like a dam that hadn’t had any release, one day I just said enough was enough.  After years of a mundane routine that included a nearly non-existent sex life, I decided that I couldn’t take it anymore.  So, I got rid of the hubby, kept the kids, and let the inner beast in me out.  I was literally just going to do it.  Or more precisely, I was going to do the next piece of male meat I could find.


The first Friday after the hubby moved out, I went on the prowl.  I was tentative.  I hadn’t done this in years.  But the anticipation made me all horny as well.  I rounded up 2 of my girlfriends to head out for a night of drinking and partying but warned them that I was in hunting mode.  We got to the pub and had a nice meal and a few drinks and that started the engine going.  Then we went to another pub where a great 80’s cover band was playing.  Who doesn’t love some 80’s music?  And after about an hour, I spotted my prey.  He was tall, he was brunette, he had no facial hair, he looked fit, and he was easy on the eye.  He looked like he was with a couple of mates, but he didn’t seem to have any female by his side.  Perfect!


I managed to shuffle my way through the crowd of people bopping away to the music to just within a couple people in front of him.  I made sure I was in his line of sight.  And luck would have it that the music was so upbeat that people were turning around and just bopping away, so I just so happened to turn around to face him.  Close up, he looked even better than from a distance and I started to fantasize of the ways I was going to have him tonight.  And he looked down and smiled at me, and I returned a coy smile.  You know the type of smile that says, “hello Romeo, what you doing later?”  At some point, not sure if it was subconscious or just dumb luck, but I found myself face to face with him.


“Hello …” I said.  “Hi!” he responded and seemed keen.  We did the usual small talk back-and-forth ritual that I like to call “the dance of the horny singles figuring out their chances”.  I found out his name was Jack, he was 32, and he was a chippy, to which I laughed and he asked why, and I said that I thought Jack Hammers were more for construction than carpentry, all the while thinking to myself that he could jackhammer me all night if he wanted to.  He laughed at that, and that started things rolling towards an inevitable adventure.  As they say, Alice had gone down the rabbit hole.  At some point soon after that, I texted the girls to not worry about me as I had “hooked one”, and before long we were heading back to his place.


When we got to his place, and got to his bedroom, the hesitation struck me again.  It’s been a while for this old duck.  And the sex that I’d been having with hubby had been the mundane 3-minute wonder, probably once every 2 months.  How’d I handle this?  Then Jack took off his shirt and the sight of his chiselled body with that gorgeous 6-pack made my nerves jump 3 more levels.  What if I got naked and he didn’t like what he saw?  What if he felt uncomfortable with a woman who could easily have been his mum (admittedly she’d have had to been pregnant as a 14 year old, but still…).  What if … oh, shut up you idiot, he took you home didn’t he?  Look at that body, you want to fuck him, don’t you? And he came over and kissed me as he undressed me.  It wasn’t one of those sweet kisses you see on rom coms either, it was an animalistic “I’m gonna fuck your brains out” kind of kiss.  Yep, one of those “slam you against the wall, frantic undressing, tongue hockey” jobs. When we were both naked, he looked at me and the lust in his eyes told me all my fears from moments ago were just my own mind games.


I got on my knees and took him in my mouth.  Oh god, that felt – and tasted – awesome.  The fact that his virile young cock sprang to attention so quickly just made me hornier.  And I might have been mistaken, because this Jack may wield a hammer, but he had a mighty impressive beanstalk!  We spent the better part of the next 30 minutes just exploring each other’s bodies, and his tongue definitely knew where my clit was.  And when he drove it into my arse, it just made me wild. When he eventually came up for air and I gently guided him in, I was so wet that he just slid his whole length in me without any trouble.  We fucked like we were in a porn movie that night.  I had him in so many different positions, the Kama Sutra would have had trouble keeping up.  Jack fucked my pussy, my mouth, my arse and I loved every second of it.  After all these years of humdrum sex, this was what it was like to really be fucked like I deserved.  And the fact he was young meant he just kept recuperating and going again, which was sheer utter bliss for me.  Truth be told, I had more mouthfuls of his cum than I had cocktails that night.


In the morning, I got up really early and snuck into the shower.  Years of getting up to hurry the kids up, even on the weekends for their sport, just made it a habit for me.  Only thing was this morning, as I had my eyes closed and letting the shower soak through my hair, I felt Jack come up behind me and caress me.  And I felt all warm and glowing and tingly from that.  And I felt his raging hard boner too.  Well of course we fucked in the shower, I couldn’t let the man have a boner without relief!  After the shower, I got dressed and started to head out when Jack asked if he could have my number.  I paused, pondered the question for a brief moment, then said perhaps not, but I knew where I could probably find him on any Friday night.  And left.


The next week, I went hunting again.  With the girls … again.  And I found Cameron.  Cameron was slightly older than Jack, probably late-30’s.  And owned his own business.  Blonde, 5 foot 9, divorced, no kids.  The perfect prey.  And he fucked like a teenager, only with much better technique and he definitely knew how to please a woman in bed.  Seemed to particularly like doggy … not that I had any issue with that at all.  Probably not as many repeat erections as Jack, but he more than made up for that with the amount of sensual touching and tongue-work he imparted.  This old duck was extremely satisfied the next morning as I snuck off before Cameron awoke.


The next time, I decided to go hunting solo.  Partly because the girls had something on, and partly because I was starting to get my confidence back.  And I found Luther.  Big, tall, black man with a smile that lit up a room and eyes that were both cheeky and intense at the same time.  Luther towered over me.  Over most men, actually.  And he also fit quite nicely on my bucket list.  I’d never had a black guy before, so I was gonna have me some fun.  And fun I had indeed.  I know girls have said that not all black dudes have big dicks, but Luther did.  It was big.  Like 11 inches of it.  And he knew how to use it.  By the end of the night, my pussy was pulsing, my arse was twitching and my mouth was slobbering.  They’d all been well and truly fucked, but they would just as comfortably welcome another round of Luther.  And whatever it is that Luther does to keep fit, it’s working, because he could just go again and again and again.  We even fucked twice in the morning before I left.  And it was a shame to leave, but the parting sight of the sweat glistening against that ebony 8-pack of his was enough to keep me going all day.


And as I got into my car to drive home, I thought to myself that all that time that I was putting up with compromise, I should have gotten the courage up to get back on the horse and enjoy life.  Life’s too short anyway to not have a go.  You know what?  Nike was right.  Just do it.  I did.  And baby, I’m back!

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Welcome back, Paris!  And I see you've not missed a single step of your writing flair.  I wish I had your writing talent!

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