Ann - getting to know her

I first met Ann when she was a colleague of my mother. Before me, Ann had only had one other lover, but she never talked much about him or the things they did. All I know is that it ended badly.

I was immediately drawn to Ann. She had long black curly hair, green eyes, and a cute smile. She had an impressive D-cup she loved showing off in deep-cut tops. She was slightly curvy, but that was a plus for me because I love women with curves. Her ass was full and round, wobbling enticingly when she walked.

Our first date was fairly normal—dinner, movies. When we got to her place, we started kissing and making out intensely. Our hands were all over each other, groping crotches, breasts, asses. Our lips never seemed to come apart, nor did our tongues stop exploring each other’s mouths in hot French kisses. She even let me grope under her clothes before she ended the evening.

The second date was dinner followed by some shopping at the mall before we returned to her house. Soon we were kissing and fooling around again, and before I knew it, she pulled off my shirt. So I did the same—she let me remove her top and bra without protest.

We got as far as unzipping our pants and putting hands inside, but she stopped me that evening, saying this was far enough. We kept going for a while longer. I appreciated that she didn’t get dressed again when I left, but said goodbye while her breasts were still bare.

Our third date was supposed to be a trip to the fair, but heavy rains changed our minds. We went to dinner and decided to go back to her place. When we arrived, she asked me to remove my shoes and socks—her excuse was the rain—but I quickly understood Ann had other intentions.

Within minutes, we picked up where we left off: bare from the waist up, pants unzipped. We soon wriggled out of our jeans and sat on her couch in just our underwear. I wore my briefs; she had on a sexy low-cut transparent red thong.

After plenty of groping each other’s genitals with our hands inside each other’s underwear, Ann suddenly stood up and let her thong drop to the floor.

“Stand up,” she ordered. I obeyed, and she immediately yanked my briefs down.

Then she grabbed my cock and said, “Follow me,” as if I needed directions. In her bedroom, we began a wild night of hot sex. I fingered her, got on top, and fucked her for a while.

On impulse, I flipped us into a 69 and licked her pussy while she sucked my cock—at least until I made her come, after which she lost concentration.

I flipped back, we kissed some more, then she pulled out a condom and rolled it onto me. She rode me and gave me an incredible ride. I eventually couldn’t hold back and filled that condom with my cum.

I don’t know if it was innate to Ann or if I unleashed something in her. The fact that we went from zero to fucking in three dates told me her built-in kink factor was pretty high.

After we married, I introduced her to porn. Of course, she knew it existed, but—according to her—never paid much attention to it. She quickly became a fan of my dirty magazines and even started her own collection—mostly women’s letters magazines, but also some aimed at women, featuring handsome men or magazines showing couples.

At some point, we invested in a VCR and soon built up a nice stash of porn films. Ann loved watching those long pornos with me—or alone.

I also bought Ann her first vibrator. She got addicted and soon amassed a significant collection of sex toys. I lost count of how many she had; Ann collected them like some women collect shoes—a different toy for every occasion. Some were long, some thick, some vibrated, some moved, some had dual ends, some had suction cups to stick to walls and chairs. Some she used anally, some for her pussy, and some to suck on.

Ann loved masturbating and never worried about the mess. Her pussy leaked excitement down her legs and ass all day and night; when I came, it often ended up somewhere on her body. During our mutual masturbation weekends, I easily shot twelve loads onto her skin. Ann loved it. She just rubbed it in and kept going.

At home, we were practically nudists. When we were home, we both strived to be clothes-free. It made sex easier, plus she—as a curvy woman—found clothes generally uncomfortable. She hated underwear, almost never wore a thong, and if she wore a bra, she took it off as soon as possible. She was a pro at removing her bra without taking off her shirt!

We also ventured into real kinks. There were other couples with whom we shared nudism, and though we didn’t exactly swing, we came damn close with group masturbation sessions. We experimented with watersports, and she really got into spanking, but those are stories for a longer tale.

Ann and I eventually grew apart. I can’t describe it otherwise. We just stopped communicating. Sex was the only thing we did well together. Even after our divorce, we still occasionally met up to fuck and suck. She always eagerly told me about her new sexual partners, mostly other women.

The last time I saw her, she’d been at an all-girl orgy with four other women. Afterwards, she wondered if she was becoming a lesbian, so she wanted some dick for comparison. At 2 AM, she showed up at my apartment wearing only a thin white bathrobe, and we fucked the rest of the night.

When she left that morning—long after sunrise—she told me that while she enjoyed girl-on-girl action, she definitely preferred dick. She’d still spend more time exploring new pussies, though. She kissed me goodbye and wished me a good life. Shortly after, I heard she’d moved back to her hometown, and I never heard from her again.