Divorced, mature, and absolutely dangerous in bed

Divorce wasn’t a tragedy. It was liberation. After years of predictable evenings and quiet bedrooms, I could finally breathe again. And taste. Myself. Men. The night.

That’s why, when I was browsing localmilfs.com with a glass of wine in hand and my hair still damp from the bath, I knew exactly what I wanted. Nothing serious. No drama. Just a man who would see me as a woman — not as a wife, a cook, or decoration.

James appeared in my messages late at night. He had a rebellious look and confidence that wasn’t arrogance. We texted until two in the morning. Three days later, he stood in my living room, smelling of sandalwood and resolve.

- I’ve been thinking about this meeting all week, - he said, looking me straight in the eyes.

- And about your neckline.

I laughed. I was wearing a black silk button-down shirt. Nothing underneath.

- I thought maybe we could watch a movie… - I started, but he came closer and unbuttoned the first button.

- And I thought maybe you’d show me what a mature woman who has nothing to prove can do.

I grabbed his neck and kissed him. Deeply. Passionately. So he wouldn’t doubt who he was dealing with. Our tongues intertwined in the rhythm I set. He was younger but eager and attentive. He quickly understood that I wasn’t a girl to be led around. I was the one in charge.

I pushed him onto the couch and straddled him. He slipped off my shirt, and I exposed myself without hesitation. His hands immediately touched my breasts, and his tongue traced along my neck to my collarbone. I moaned, feeling my body react instantly.

- You’re like a drug, - he whispered, kissing me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

I slid off his pants without waiting. He was ready. Very ready. I pushed him back onto the couch, knelt between his legs, and began to pleasure him with my mouth — slowly, thoroughly, with the experience of a woman who knows how to bring a man to the edge — and keep him there, with a smile.

Finally, he lifted me, carried me to the bedroom as if I weighed nothing.

- Your turn now, Clare, - he murmured - I want to hear you scream my name.

I lay beneath him, legs draped over his shoulders, his movements strong, rhythmic, exactly what I needed. He filled me completely. His fingers gripped my hips, his lips caressed my breast, his tongue teased my nipple.

I felt as if my whole body was on fire. Nothing else existed but that touch, that moment. The orgasm came quickly — intense, pulsing, trembling. Then a second. And a third. I screamed. And he didn’t stop.

Afterwards, we lay without a word, only our breaths filling the bedroom.

I looked at him sideways.

- You still want to date a divorced woman from the internet?

James smiled and kissed my neck.

- Divorced? No. A woman who knows what she wants? Always.