My name is Rebecca and I am a big woman. I am proud of who I am and happy. But that wasn’t always the case.
I’d married at twenty-two and divorced at thirty-three and dated occasionally since then. However there hadn’t been much sex. My husband had been a good man but not a good lover. The sex had been disappointing. He blamed me, I blamed him, then started wondering if it really was me, before deciding it truly sucked because we didn’t care anymore. After the divorce I got laid once but that too was a let down. I avoided sex for the next year and a half, only masturbating. But that was unsatisfying. Yes, I had orgasms, but they were brief and fleeting… and required more and more effort. I tried doing without but that drove me crazy. My girlfriends all had good sex lives and we talked a lot about my issues, usually killing a bottle of wine in the process. And no, I didn’t have any sexual interest in them, nor they in me.
I focused instead on my career and applied for a position in another state and got it. I moved first into an apartment for a couple of years then decided to buy a house. After searching patiently, I found the right one in a nice neighborhood. The deal was closed and I moved in before Christmas. I didn’t get to meet my neighbors really until spring. I was clearing the area which was to be my front flower bed when the couple east of me came out. After introductions, they were Tom and Janet, we chatted about the neighborhood and our backgrounds a little. I liked them. Tom went off to work in his backyard leaving Janet and I alone. Eventually she got around to dishing on all our neighbors.
“Mary and Steve across the street there are both heavy drinkers and often have lots of people over for parties and cookouts. It’s weird, they have no kids and both are in their forties… Next door to them in the grey brick house are Bob and… uh Karen, I think… Anyway, she’s new, his second wife. At least I think they’re married. He divorce Shelly a couple of years ago and brought the new woman in. She’s blonde, younger than him and has a perfect figure. I hate her for it. And that house on the corner, that’s Tonya, though I think Tonya used to be Tony. She’s a strange one…”
And she prattled on and on. I tried my best to smile and nod occasionally. Finally I posed a question.
“Who is my neighbor on the west side?”
“Oh, him? That’s Mr. Preston. Poor man, widower twice over. A gentle soul but quiet. Keeps to himself, no family that I know of, at least no one ever comes to visit. I think he’s a veteran, always flies his flag on holidays and such. He is a character though, likes to wear kilts. You know, the modern utility kilts? He has fancy ones too but always wears the utility kilts when doing yard work. He has the legs for it too! I’ve tried to get Tom to buy one but he refuses. That’s okay, Tom’s legs are too skinny.”
A week or so later I did see Mr. Preston out working in his yard. And sure enough he was wearing an olive drab canvas kilt, tan boots and a red T-shirt. He was tall, probably 6’3″ and well built. His hair was close cropped and seemed either red or blond. He had a nice red beard that looked full and lush but not too long. But by the time I decided to go meet him, he’d gone inside.
The next weekend was rainy. Two weeks after that we finally had more sun and favorable temps forecast. I went and bought my plants, garden soil, and mulch. Büyükesat Escort I had unloaded my plants and was struggling with the 40 pound bags of garden soil when Mr. Preston came out. He paused, looked around, shook his head and came over.
“Here, let me help you with that.” he said and unloaded my SUV.
“Thank you!” I replied smiling. “They loaded it for me but I didn’t realize the bags were so heavy. My name’s Rebecca.” I said holding out my hand.
“James Preston.” he answered and shook my hand.
I gazed up and saw green eyes and a nice smile. His beard and mustache were indeed red but also streaked with gray as was the hair at his temples. His face was pleasant but creased. Somehow I felt he had endured much sadness and stress. Suddenly I feared he would turn and walk away, I needed something to say.
“I like your kilt.” I blurted out.
“Thanks.” he replied.
“It shows off your legs… Uh, I mean you have the legs for it… oh damn…” I blushed.
He stopped and smiled. “Again, thank you.”
I leaned on the fender of my car. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”
He leaned on the fender next to me. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then you said it because you meant it. So what? That’s what’s so fuckin wrong these days. I can’t compliment a woman for looking good without her gettin’ offended. I can get away with holdin’ the door for her but only because I hold it for everyone. Folks are just too easily offended. What happened to old fashioned courtesy and conversation? Now everything you say becomes an argument.”
“Oh tell me about it! I work in PR, everything we write has to be triple checked to make sure we don’t offend somebody. I like writing and matching images to words and taking concepts and ideas then turning them into feelings. Really communicating… But some days are a struggle. ‘You can’t say that! ‘ has become the phrase I hate most.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. So how about this, I don’t know you, you don’t know me. Let’s agree to talk straight forward without getting our panties in a wad over what someone said.”
“You have a deal, Mr. Preston.”
“James.” He said smiling. “So I imagine Janet has already told you everything about everyone.”
I laughed. “Yes. She’s quite the gossip.”
“What did she tell you about me?”
“Uh… she said you were twice widowed, wore kilts and were quiet. She also said you were a vet.”
He was silent for a moment. “Well, she’s right. I should be thankful for that. Yes, I’ve buried two wives and one child. I was in the Air Force. So, yeah, I like to be quiet. But quiet don’t mean boring.”
“The Air Force? Hmmn, you don’t seem the pilot type… The mechanic either. “
“Nope, I was a PJ.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Pararescueman.”
“Like a paramedic…”
“Yeah but with guns. And the patient is in a bad place and you gotta shoot your way in and shoot your way out.”
“She didn’t tell me that.” I said.
“She doesn’t know. Few do.”
He grew quiet.
“So what’s with the kilt?” I asked.
“Comfort.”
“Not to be sexy? Because it is.” I teased, surprising myself.
“No, no. I… uh, back in the day I trained with lots of foreign forces, and the guys from the UK introduced me to kilts. I liked it. My wife liked it. So I wear ’em whenever I can.”
Boldly Elvankent Escort I pressed on, though I don’t know where I found the courage. “Is it true what they say? That if you wear underwear, it’s a skirt?”
“That’s bullshit. It was once a tradition, but not a requirement. In fact, dark compression shorts are required in the British military under the kilt. I wear them too. Not always, but often. It depends on if I think I might accidentally flash someone.”
“And today?” I asked grinning.
He grinned back. “I’m not tellin’ some strange woman if I’m goin’ commando. You’re a smart one, figure it out.”
I turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes, they twinkled with mischief… life. Suddenly my hand touched his knee and slowly slid up between his legs. I found his manhood and instead of jerking away, I caressed it. I cupped his balls and then grasped his cock. It was nice and big and I could feel it twitch.
“So Becca…” he said, “We fuckin in my place or yours?”
“Fuckin?”
“Well, I assume that if a good lookin’ woman has a hold of my dick and she ain’t a doctor, she must wanna fuck.”
I let go and blushed again. “You wanna fuck me?”
“Sure, why not. You’re attractive. You had me believin’ that was what you had in mind.”
“Yes, I just, I just can’t believe you, anyone really, would want to fuck me.”
“I do. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Well, no one has… in a long time. I’m fat and… well, not pretty…”
“Bullshit,” he said. “You look fine. Come on, let’s go inside before we give them something to gossip about.”
Inside my house he turned me to face him and took me in his arms. He ran the fingers of one hand through my mousey brown hair. Then kissed me. The kiss was nice, really nice. I’d never kissed anyone with a robust beard and it felt good. Nice and soft. His hands then began to lift my T-shirt. I shrugged out of it and tossed it aside then peeled off my sports bra. As my breasts came into view, he smiled and caressed them. His mouth was on them and it felt wonderful. His tongue teased my nipples as his hands squeezed my flesh. I sighed. God, it felt so good to feel his touch.
He paused to look at them and smiled, “Damn beautiful tits, Becca. So big and all natural.”
I was a little nervous about my belly, but he kissed and caressed it with the same evident desire. He tugged on my pants and pulled them down, his hands caressing my hips, thighs, and calves along the way. I tried to keep my panties on but he laid me on the sofa and pulled them off as well. He didn’t hesitate at all but started kissing my legs at the calf and working his way upward, switching from one leg to the other as he progressed ever higher. His was the first beard I’d felt between my legs and the feeling was amazing! His breath was warm and I tingled in anticipation. My hands were squeezing my breasts as he reached my pussy. I gasped as his lips kissed me there and explored. He licked me and his tongue was so arousing! I wanted more and moaned.
“Oh god…”
His tongue probed my vaginal vestibule and then he licked all the way up to my clit. I gasped. I forced myself to allow this, My instinct was to close my legs, to push him away, to avoid the disappointment sure to come. But it felt so good, so damn good. I spread my legs wide and closed my eyes. Beşevler Escort The feelings flooding me were incredible, I was more aroused than I could ever remember being. It felt better than any other time a man had tried cunnilingus with me. I realized my hands were squeezing my breasts in time with his licks.
“You taste so good Becca…” he mumbled. “So damn good. God, how I’ve missed this!”
The room was filled with the sound of my soft moans, a gentle humming from him, and the wet slurping sounds from between my legs. Suddenly it was all so erotic. I’d always shied away from the messy, wet side of sex, now the wetness was arousing… for both of us! Then it happened. James took my clit into his mouth, gently, and sucked on it. As my Clit was pulled from hiding, his tongue rubbed it just right and…
“I’M CUMMING! OH GOD I’M CUMMING!” I cried out. My hips bucked and my back arched. My thighs closed on his head. “Oh god,oh,oh,oh,oh,oh, oh god!”
James forced my legs apart and before my orgasm could start to fade, his cock pierced me.
“Oh god! Oh yes! Yes! Fuck me!” my voice said. I never talk that way, but suddenly I was a gutter-mouth. “Yes, fuck me! Oh god such a big cock! Give it to me! Fuck me!”
James shoved his cock in all the way in one slow push. God, I had to be soaked! He then started fucking me, slowly at first then faster and faster. I was lost in the throes of passion. My legs rose and fell, stroking his hips. My hands pulled his shirt off then caressed his back. My breasts, my tits, were smashed between us. I felt his weight upon me and loved it. I loved every bit of this. His hips rose and fell and that magnificent cock thrust in and out of me, thrilling me like never before. My orgasm faded but the joy, the exhilaration continued. Then another orgasm grew, flowing up and out and I buried my face in his chest and whimpered.
This orgasm had only just ebbed when James started cumming. He grunted a warning and I held on, wrapping my legs around him, burying his cock deep inside of me. I could feel every twitch of his member and every spurt of his hot cum as he flooded my pussy.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” I whimpered over and over until he was spent. Reluctantly I released him and he rose. As his cock pulled from my pussy, my hands, my fingers moved as if controlled by someone else. They prodded, rubbed and explored my wet pussy and the feeling of his cum thrilled and excited me. I felt tears coming and was powerless to stop them. I didn’t want to stop them. I cried. And as I cried my body shook and trembled, Our mixed fluids flowed, no, gushed and soiled the sofa, but I didn’t care. I brought my hands to my face, to cover my mouth only to find them wet and sticky. I wrung my hands and my sobs turned to giggles then to laughter.
James had been watching me with concern as I cried and I understood his confusion. But I couldn’t say anything coherent for many long minutes. At least I was smiling now, and I saw the relief on his face. Finally, I managed to put a sentence together.
“I came! I really came. I really, really came! I had an actual fucking orgasm! No, two or-or three of them! God, it was awesome! I never do that! Well, not in ages and never that good, that intense!
James grinned. “Well, good for you!”
I sat up and threw myself into his arms. My leg was in the middle of the mess but I didn’t give a shit anymore. Maybe it was time to change my point of view. I didn’t know why I came so easily this time. Was it him? The naughtiness of jumping a man I didn’t know? Was it me? Had something changed in me? All I knew was that I felt amazing and it was all due to James and a sudden reckless adventure with him. I swore that I would never let go of the widower next door.