Seduction of Laura Branson
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Reluctant, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Cheating, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Slow,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The sexual oddessy of a forty-seven year old housewife in search of sex and love.
She hated these cocktail parties. The women, dressed to kill in the most revealing dresses they could find and/or dare to wear, each trying to capture the attention of the men, standing or strutting, showing off the fact that, even at middle age, they still had bodies which could bring second looks; pairing off with each other and making catty remarks about the other women, then tearing into each other when they parted, circulated around the room and formed temporary alliances with the other women about whom they had just been talking.
And the men, in their tuxedos, looking like a cross between a penguin and a rooster, strutting about, drinking too much, laughing too loud and trying to impress the women with their inane jokes or stale come-ons.
Charlie enjoyed these gatherings however, so here she was. She and Charlie would have a good laugh later when they got home, she thought. The only man to approach her this evening for small talk was George Tyree, a junior executive with one of the large shipping companies. He had been a polite, even witty and... yes, interesting conversationalist. It was not that she had not enjoyed his company. What was humorous was that it was common knowledge that George was gay, but still in the closet. He still made pretense of being straight which she found amusing. He had made the obligatory compliments concerning her dress and how beautiful she looked, but underneath there was an unease, one he had learned to mask reasonably well, but one which any halfway observant woman would pick up on immediately. He was a sweet man however and deep within, Laura felt sorry for him -- not so much sorry for his homosexuality as for the fact that he felt he still needed to hide it, even when so many gays had openly embraced their sexuality.
At last, having fulfilled one of two or three conversations he would have with women during the course of the evening to keep up appearances, he prepared to withdraw. They exchanged a smile and for but a moment, their eyes held and he knew she was looking into him, seeing through his facade, yet he read no threat, no animosity or derision in her eyes -- only acceptance.
"It's been a pleasure talking with you," he said, shaking her hand gently.
"I've enjoyed it," she replied, watching him walk away.
He's a good man, she thought to herself, kind, gentle. Why must there be so much intolerance in the world?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Helen Van Stilling, a transplanted waitress from a small town in Georgia who married into money and now never missed a chance to flaunt her wealth and position. She even spoke now with a rather affected accent, as if everyone had forgotten her redneck roots and should be impressed by her ostentatiousness. Her favorite pastime, so the rumors went, was collecting and then discarding lovers behind her husband Richard's back. Laura's relationship with her had never been cordial since Helen looked on every woman as a potential rival, even those much older and who showed no interest in anyone other than their own husbands.
"Why Laura dear, how nice to see you."
"You seem to be all by yourself this evening."
"Oh, Charlie is about somewhere."
"Yes, well I saw you talking with that George... what's his last name?"
"Yes. He's very polite, but then I guess his kind can't afford not to be."
"What is his kind, Helen?"
"Oh, you know dear... queer." There were times when Helen's less than sophisticated upbringing still surfaced.
"He seems nice enough to me."
"Well, I suppose he would," remarked the elegantly clad woman. "I mean the two of you have spent the evening virtually alone."
Laura smiled. She wasn't about to take the bait.
"Interesting conversationalists are hard to find."
"Yes, well I can't imagine what the two of you would have to talk about."
"You'd be surprised."
"Don't normal men interest you?" asked the younger woman. "I mean you are reasonably attractive... .for your age, and..."
"Charlie doesn't complain."
"No, I guess not. But then, I wouldn't think he'd be too hard to please."
"Helen," said Laura, lowering her voice even further, "let me put this in terms you'll understand. I really don't want to get in a pissing contest with you. I don't know why you don't seem to care for either Charlie or me, but I really have better things to do than..."
"Feeling a bit insecure, Laura?" sneered Helen.
"Not at all. I just have better things to do than cat fight with you, now or in the future."
"I don't blame you. It's bound to be hard for you to compete with a real woman."
With that the younger woman turned on her heel and walked off. Laura shook her head in disgust, but, as she always seemed to do in these skirmishes, Helen had scored some points.
Laura began to wonder, did she dislike these cocktail parties simply because they were inane or did she actually wish to avoid being compared with the other, she had to admit, gorgeous women who seemed to attract men like bees to honey? She caught her reflection in a nearby window. Her dress was in good taste if a bit conservative. Her shoulder length ash blonde hair was styled well for someone her age. She showed a few wrinkles around her steel gray, expressive eyes, but her face was still attractive, possessed of soft delicate features. Her figure was no longer hour glass shaped, but she was possessed of full breasts and hips and shapely legs. She might not be cover girl material, but Laura Branson was still a lovely woman. Why then she wondered was Helen right about men not seeking her out. Not that, being married happily to Charlie, she would be interested, but it might be nice to be noticed, to know that men still found her attractive.
Shaking off her insecurities, she sought out her husband. She saw him with a group of three other men, standing just inside the next room. As she was moving toward them she saw one of the men make a crude gesture when a young woman in a very revealing dress walked by. The others, all married, including Charlie, laughed, so instead of joining them she stood just around the corner, out of sight, but within earshot.
"Damn, she was nice!" offered one, obviously talking about the young woman who had just passed by.
"I'll say. She could eat all the crackers in bed she wanted. It wouldn't bother me one bit!" laughed another.
"How about it Charlie? She look like something you'd like to handle?"
Laura's mouth flew open when she heard her husband reply, "Yeah, she does have a nice ass and legs."
"As nice as your wife's?"
"There was a time when Laura..." mused Charlie, then let his voice taper off before finishing, "... that is... Laura is..."
The other men laughed when Charlie couldn't finish. "Hey, Charlie, you got the used to be blues," chuckled the taller man in the dark suit.
"The used to be blues?" he asked.
"Yeah, you know, we all get 'em about this time in life. You're stuck with thinking about how good your wife used to look, how good she used to be in bed."
There was an embarrassed silence, then Laura heard Charlie say, "... Yeah, guess you're right."
Laura felt as if she had been run through with a poker. Her heart fell into her stomach and tears misted her eyes. She leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and tried to regain her breath, only inches from the man to whom she had been married the last twenty-nine years.
Having met Charlie while she was a college freshman and he a graduate law student, they had been married less than four months later. While she had graduated with honors in art, she had postponed, and eventually abandoned, her career goals while Charlie climbed the corporate law ladder. She still painted, but only for her own enjoyment, having become a corporate wife. She detested the endless rounds of entertaining and attending parties given by those who mattered. In those early years, she had played the role of eye candy for Charlie, a lovely woman on his arm who could make stimulating conversation with the corporate executives. Laura had even fended off a few offers, offers which Charlie never found out about because his honor and ambition would have had to do combat and Laura wanted to spare him. But fend them off she had, never once giving serious consideration to being unfaithful. Charlie was her man and she was his woman. Throughout all her insecurities she had never doubted it until this moment.
"Helen Van Stilling, now there's a pair of panties I'd like to get into," laughed the ugly little man with the Hitler mustache. The men all laughed. "Yeah," said another, I'd say she'd be my pick of all the women here. What about you Charlie?"
Laura almost gasped when Charlie answered, "Helen does have a hell of a body."
"Wonder if old Richard is even getting any of that any more?"
"I doubt it. She's probably too busy with her lay of the week," chuckled the balding man in the thirteen hundred dollar suit. "Any of you guys ever had her? What about it Charlie?"
"No, not me," answered Laura's husband.
"Hell, I hear she's done about every other lawyer in the firm. How did you manage to miss out?"
"I guess I'm not her type."
"I thought anyone with something between his legs was her type. Ernie said she once did three guys in one afternoon."
"Come on Charlie, don't tell us you haven't at least thought about it."
"Well... thought about it maybe, but..." with that they all broke into laughter again.
Laura had heard all she could take. Her heart aching, she made her way back across the room and patiently waited until Charlie had consumed his four scotches and rubbed elbows with the appropriate higher ups. He had been with the firm for a number of years now and was still only an associate. This was the year, he had said, when it would happen. This was the year he would be made a partner.
She stood near the French doors, fighting back tears. Of course he had been drinking, and of course he was with friends with whom he would be expected to assert his manhood with bravado and exaggeration. Still, despite his assertion that he had not been unfaithful, his comments had cut deeply. Had she let herself go? Perhaps that was too strong, but it was true she no longer had the tiny waist she had when they first met and her thighs were a bit heavier. Did he really find Helen more attractive?
She was still struggling with herself when Charlie wandered over and, to her relief, announced that, if she was ready, they would call it a night.
"Charlie, do you still love me as much as you used to?"
The two were home and getting ready for bed. Laura was wearing her silk gown as usual while Charlie was in his pajamas.
"Of course I do, Honey. Even more," he smiled, approaching her from the rear and putting his arms around her while kissing her neck. He recognized the signs. Laura had always been insecure, but over the last couple of years he had seen her self confidence wane to the degree that she often sought some kind of assurance of his continued affection. She had begun dressing rather conservatively and even styled her hair like a much older woman. She seemed to have not only surrendered to her age, but to have virtually adopted the lifestyle of a senior, not a woman in middle age. He had hinted, encouraged her to dress and think in a somewhat younger fashion, but had gotten nowhere. He often reminded her of how beautiful she was, but his own medical problems had left them with a much curtailed sex life and despite his reassurances that he still found her desirable, her own sensuality seemed to ebb as well.
Tonight he would try again. Even the Viagra was only of marginal help, but on nights like this he knew she needed all the reassurance he could give her. So when he had noticed the telltale signs even before they had left for the cocktail party, he had taken the blue pills in anticipation of an amorous late evening. He felt her soft warm body beneath the gown and his own modest reaction. His hands found the straps of her gown and it slithered to the floor. She turned, her fingers busy at the buttons of his pajamas.
"I love you Laura."
"Do you Charlie? Do you really?"
"With all my heart."
"Oh Charlie! Take me darling! Take me!"
"Charlie... I'm... sorry."
"Not your fault -- mine." He had made the same mistake as in the past -- tried too hard and the erection had just withered away. He knew it was primarily physical, but it always seemed that the nights when he wanted it most, when she needed it most, was when his body betrayed him.
"No," she countered, "maybe if I were more of a woman..."
"You've always been the woman of my dreams -- more woman than I could handle."
"I love you for saying that, but we both know it isn't true. Especially these last few years, I just haven't been able to excite you."
"That's not true. You know what the doctor said."
"Yes, but... I can't help feeling that if i were more attractive... better in bed..."
"You are fine. Fantastic as a matter of fact." He knew he might be laying it on a bit thick, but she needed him badly right now. "You're still the most beautiful woman in the world... and the most desirable."
"Oh Charlie. If only I could believe that. Maybe if I... if I were more like Helen."
"Helen? Helen Van Stilling? What makes you believe... ?"
"I see the way men look at her when she walks by. I even saw the way she turned your head at the party."
"Hey, I may be in a slump, but I'm not dead. Of course Helen is attractive... in a cheap, flashy sort of way. She dresses to get attention and, from what I hear, she gets it too and not just from Richard."
"But she excites you."
"Well... sure. A playboy centerfold, wearing a skin tight dress, who flaunts it all over the room is going to get attention. That doesn't mean..."
"But she excites you!"
Charlie wasn't sure how he should answer that. "If you mean does she get a rise out of the old fishing rod... then sure. Any woman who walks past with her breasts practically falling out of her dress and wiggling her ass is going to get a reaction... from any man. That doesn't mean I want to go to bed with her."
"But you'd like to, wouldn't you? I mean if I said it was okay, you'd like to take her to bed."
"No, I wouldn't."
"Liar!" she exclaimed, but she was smiling and he returned it.
"Hey we all have our fantasies, but that's just what they are, fantasies. No one expects them to actually happen. Remember how you used to fantasize about Richard Gere and Mel Gibson?"
"What do you mean used to?" she asked, laughing. "And I seem to remember a guy who drools over Vanessa Williams."
"Okay, you got me, but you see what I mean? Movie stars, rock stars, Playboy centerfolds, yes and even Helen Van Stilling may conjure erotic fantasies, but it doesn't mean you actually expect or even want it to happen."
"Oh, I don't know about that," she chuckled.
"Come on, if you were alone in a bedroom with Richard Gere you'd probably faint... and I'd do the same with Vanessa Williams. I've got all I want or need in you, Laura. My only wish is that you could somehow come to realize what a woman you are."
"You're sweet Charlie Branson. A liar, but sweet."
"I do love you Laura. More than I can ever say."
"And I love you," she replied falling back into his arms where she snuggled her head on his shoulder and the two prepared for sleep. I just wish I were all the woman you want. I wish I could be like Helen, she thought to herself as she recalled Charlie's conversation at the party that evening.