Midlife Crisis

I know you are thinking that midlife crisis is a term used by men as an excuse to buy a convertible or have an affair. But that isn't always the case. I'm a 42 year old woman named Gwen. I'm petite, about 5' 2" tall and thin. I didn't buy a new car. But I did have an affair. To be more accurate I am having an affair. I suppose some backstory is in order.
I am a professor at Northwestern University in Evanston, IL. For the geographically challenged, that is just North of Chicago. I have tenure and make a very good living. My husband has a sales job and also does very well. The only downside is he has to travel a few days almost every week. We've been married 21 years (just out of college) and have a 20 year old daughter who is away at school. I tried to get her to go to Northwestern not only because it is a great school but because I'd get a huge discount for her. So naturally, she chose UW Madison.
Our story is pretty typical. We had a good marriage at first, but the stress of time, work and raising a daughter took its toll and intimacy became less and less. I started to wonder if my husband was getting his needs met when he was on the road. I'm still very attractive (I work out three days a week) but he didn't show much bedroom interest in me. I didn't have any actual proof he was cheating on me, but still. I needed more than he was giving.
Masturbation kept my own needs met. I had my trusty vibrator and occasionally watched videos online. In fact, that probably would have been where this story ended, if I had not found a link to an erotic story site while surfing for new videos. Opening my mind to new fantasies as I read the lurid tales people posted made me cum much better than the videos I would watch. I read stories on what seemed like an endless array of fetishes and imagine scenes for myself. Some turned me on, some didn't. I started getting into submission stories and that really got me thinking more about having an affair. Sometimes I imagined myself dominating a guy and making him give me all the attention I craved. I'd tie him to the bed and ride him until he couldn't get hard another time. Then I'd send him away. Other times I pictured myself as the submissive being ordered to serve a group of men. They would pass me around until none of us could cum any more.
Most of those stories were what I would consider extreme fantasies, but they made me cum and that was my primary goal. Then I read one that seemed sweeter and more about seduction. I knew it was going to turn into a bondage story from the tags on the listing, but at the beginning it seemed more romantic with one neighbor seducing another. If I ever did have an affair I would already rule my neighbors out. It would be too difficult to keep that a secret.
I was getting very hot and bothered with my vibe doing its job. In fact I was very close to cumming when I was shocked to learn the story was about a woman seducing another woman. The protagonist was named Robin and I assumed it was a guy. I had not considered he was a she. Mind you, I'm not homophobic. Life on a college campus has a very active LBGTQ community. I'd never given it much thought, actually, and had never "experimented" when I was in school. But there I was about to cum to a lesbian seduction story. And as I continued reading, my climax turned into a big one. It was definitely an eye opener.
As you might suspect, my choices in reading, videos and masturbation fantasies evolved to being frequently lesbian based or at least FFM threesome based. I also started having impure thoughts about girls I saw on campus. I knew that was verboten, but I couldn't help but look and fantasize. That is also how I found myself in one of Chicago's lesbian bars (thanks Google) on a Wednesday night.
My husband was out of town and I didn't have any Thursday classes to teach, so I amped up my courage, got dressed up and took the Red Line (the elevated train that runs from Evanston to the South side of Chicago) down to an anonymous Northside bar hoping to find a lesbian who would pick me up and teach me about woman to woman love. Well, woman to woman sex. I didn't expect to fall in love. I just needed someone willing to touch me intimately, if only for an hour or two. In my fantasy I would walk in and there would be plenty available women to choose from and all I would have to do is pick one to ravage me.
I figured taking the train was a good idea instead of driving in case I had a bit too much to drink. I also expect most of the patrons would live near the bar so not having to leave my car there was a bonus. Plus the bar was only two blocks from the train. Yes I was talking myself into being at the mercy of whoever I let pick me up. At least that was my fantasy. I didn't even know if any woman would want to take a neophyte home. If not, there were other bars in the area, if all else failed, where I could probably find a guy for a quickie.
After an hour sitting in a booth sipping several white wines, that option started to seem more likely. The Cebeci Escort bar wasn't crowded and the women that were there seemed to be already partnered or too young and not interested in a middle aged woman. I didn't have the courage to initiate a conversation with any of them, although I did ogle a few. Then she walked in.
My first impression was "Holy shit. She's the one." She was tall. At least six feet compared to my petite 5 foot 2. She was blonde with long straight hair down past her shoulders. She was lean with perky breasts, probably a C cup but firm enough not to require a bra. I knew that because her nipples were standing prominently under her shirt and on display. I couldn't make out the writing on the shirt in the dim light, though. I felt my pussy start to moisten as I looked at her tight jeans and her firm ass as she turned toward the bar. She definitely had the look of an athlete. A young athlete.
She got a drink at the bar and then turned to examine the crowd. Her eyes focused on me, briefly. I felt like I blushed and quickly broke eye contact. When I looked back, she was looking at two other young, athletic girls who had just entered the bar. They came over and hugged my blonde goddess before getting their own drinks and moving to a table by the jukebox. I had given up on any of these beautiful girls being interested in me when the blonde looked at me again. I fought my nervousness and tried not to look away. I didn't know what I had to offer her, but if she was going to look at me, I was going to look at her.
She was staring at me. Actually she was staring through me, into my soul. I felt myself giving in to her even before she made a move toward my booth or said a word to me. She was the one I'd been waiting for. I knew it. When she started walking toward me, my field of vision narrowed until I could only see her face. Her beautiful face and her radiant smile. I saw her lips move, but I didn't even hear her ask if she could join me. I was transfixed. She just sat down and extended her hand.
"Elle," I did hear her say.
I shook her hand and replied, "Gwen."
It was the first time I had touched a woman in a way that was not innocent and it was electric. When she pulled her hand back I finally focused on the writing on her shirt. She was wearing a Northwestern volleyball shirt. Was my goddess a student, an alumnus or just a fan? I had to stop this right now. I opened my mouth as if to speak, but she slid her fingers up my arm and asked if this was the first time I'd been in a lesbian bar? How could she tell already? A tingle went up my arm and down through my spine.
"Yes," I answered softly.
"You're shy," she replied. "I like that." Then she leaned over and gave me a soft, but knowing kiss. I was a goner.
We stayed at the bar drinking our wines and talking about life. Her friend had put money in the jukebox and they were dancing. A few other couples had joined them, but my concentration was on Elle. And once her fingers left my arm, she took my hand in hers and was clearly trying to seduce me. And I let her. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't resist her.
I admitted that I was married, taught at the university and was a lesbian virgin. She was the captain of the volleyball team and told me she liked being a woman's first. I was putty in her hands and she knew it. Maybe an hour later, she told me we were going to dance. The music had stopped, but she pulled me easily out of the booth and led me to the center of the small dance floor. I watched as one of her friends went over and put another dollar in the jukebox. I was surprised when a slow song began playing. Elle put her arms on my shoulders (easy with our height difference) and I instinctively put my arms around her waist.
She pulled me close against her. It felt so natural. Then she pulled my head down against her breasts. That seemed natural too, almost as if she was mothering me despite my being old enough to be her mother. She then whispered in my ear telling me to grab her butt. That even felt natural. A woman I had just met was telling me to touch her in public while I nuzzled my face against her breasts. Who could object to that, although this was not how I had pictured this evening going in my fantasy. Oh, by this point I was soaking my panties too.
We danced like that for two consecutive songs. I'm sure her friends were watching us as were the other women in the bar. Yet I didn't care. I wanted Elle to take me home and teach me about womanly lovemaking. But she wasn't quite ready to leave the bar yet. As we walked back to our booth, she took me in her strong arms and gave me another kiss. This one was far more passionate and demanding than her first. My knees almost gave out.
"Your pussy is soaked, isn't it?" she asked although I'm sure the question was rhetorical. She had to know the effect she was having on me. I could only nod in affirmation. I couldn't bring myself to admit it.
"I'm going Kolej Escort to get two more glasses of wine," she informed me. "You're going to go to the bathroom, take your panties off and toss them in the garbage."
It was a declarative statement. It wasn't a question. And I wasn't about to disobey. I felt so naughty returning to the booth without my panties soaking up my juices, although they were so saturated they were not doing a very good job. Elle was waiting, two wine glasses on the table. As I started to slide into the booth next to her, she gave me another command. "Lift the back of your skirt so your ass is on the cushion." OK, I wasn't expecting that, but I complied. "I don't want your excitement staining your dress," she told me. I had never even thought that was possible, but of course she was right.
As I slid next to her, her hand, instead of taking mine, went to the front of my dress and then under it sliding up my thigh. I gasped. She told me to relax. My only saving grace was I didn't think anyone could see what she was doing. But without my panties to protect me, she was about to discover how wet she made me. That was the point, of course, but I wasn't prepared for how exciting it would be for the first time a woman touched me. Having it happen in public made it even better. I exhaled with a contented mew when her finger easily slid into me.

Elle took her time fingering my pussy and rubbing my clit. With her free hand she sipped her wine and encouraged me to do the same, pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Even when her friends (Samantha