The Forecast Calls for Great Sex

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Author’s note:  These are the tales of my journey from an unhappily married man to a very sexually active single/divorced man. These stories are based on true events and relationships, although the quotes may not be verbatim, and all events are generally stated as best as I can recall, with some embellishment or artistic license as needed, especially considering I am writing this 20+ years after the events of the first story. But the substance of each story is true.

Everyone was over 18 and everything was consensual. Names and places have been changed or hidden to protect identities and privacy.

You may see references to other people or events in my stories, seemingly out of context. I’ve written all my stories as a chronological account of my life after divorce, but each story stands on it’s own unless noted as a new chapter.

Tina

If you’ve read some of my previous stories, you know that I am a “morning person” when it comes to self-care. In other words, when I masturbate, it is almost always first thing in the morning.

All of the local television stations that service my area employ a number of very attractive women on their morning shows — anchors, weather folks and traffic reporters. Just about every female working the local news is very attractive in her own way.

One weather reporter in particular always intrigued me. She wasn’t the hottest of the local talent, but something about her grabbed my attention. Tina was her name, and she was a perky, happy thing all the time. She dressed very conservatively, not a hint of cleavage. On those rare occasions when you saw a full body shot of her, you could tell she had a great hourglass figure.

I had guessed her to be in her mid-thirties at the time I first noticed her, about five or six years prior to the events of this story, which was probably when I was around 47 or 48. I looked on line to find out more about her, but there was no social media at all, just the station’s website and Facebook page with her various weather reports. Nothing about her personally.

She wore a wedding ring, and in my mind she was a perfect little mom and housewife, probably getting up at 4 am to get ready for work, and being home by 9 am or so to care for the house, do the grocery shopping and iron her husband’s shirts, care for the kids after school, put on an apron and make dinner, help the kids with homework. All very 1950’s ish in my mind.

Sexually, I imagined her very submissive, also consistent with the 1950s – does what she’s told and never complains.

Tina’s station was headquartered about 30 minutes from where I lived, but as these folks often do, they travel to various locations within the viewing area for street fairs, concerts and the like. They are local celebrities and they appear at these things on occasion.

I happened to be at a St. Patrick’s Day parade in the small city near where I live. It was held on a Saturday morning, and afterwards I went to a crowded bar with my buddy for some post-parade beverages. The place was packed and loud, and I started to wonder if I was too old for this shit.

After one beer, my buddy got a call from his wife about something, so he had to leave. I didn’t want to go home yet, but I was done with the loud bar scene, so I walked down to the downtown Hyatt and went into their swanky wine bar for a little more quiet. There were a few more people there than usual due to the parade, but all in all it was a much calmer scene than the other Irish bars and townie watering holes along the downtown strip.

I ordered a manhattan and focused on one of the March Madness games on the TV, and soon felt a presence in the empty seat next to me, and heard a female voice order “just a water.”

The voice sounded very familiar, so I glanced over and was thrilled to see that it was none other than Tina, the Channel 10 morning weather chick. I thought for a second and figured I might have blown a load thinking about her earlier in the week (Jennifer had missed our Tuesday morning date that week – see “Soccer Mom” stories), so I kept that in mind as I glanced over at her.

I had to play this right, I was sure that playing the “fan boy” would get nowhere, so I had to pretend that I had no idea who she was. I viewed that as my best shot. She was dressed pretty nicely, so I assumed that she was doing a live remote for the parade.

I leaned toward her and said, “You don’t look like you were here to watch the parade?”

She looked at me suspiciously, and responded, “Yes and no.”

“Interesting answer,” I said. “The kind of answer that suggests you don’t want to talk about it, but also the kind of answer that makes me want to dig deeper. So, I’m in a bit of a pickle here.”

She smiled politely, and said, “Well, yes, I was here for the parade, but no, I wasn’t here as a spectator.”

“Oh,” I continued. “So you were IN the parade then, maybe like the grand poobah or whatever they call the leader of parades.”

“The grand marshal!” she laughed. I was slowing Anadolu Yakası Escort disarming her already. “No, I wasn’t the grand marshal. I’m working, or I was working.”

“Well then, let me buy you a drink since you’re now off work. What would you like?”

“What do you have?” she inquired.

“Manhattan,” I answered. “It’s delicious.”

“God I’d love to, but I better stick with water.”

“How come?” I asked. “You driving?”

“No, my cameraman is driving. But my husband wouldn’t take well to me coming home from work and having booze on my breath.”

“Cameraman?!?! Ok, so now we are getting somewhere. I might be a little slow but I’m gonna guess reporter.”

“Well done Sherlock,” she joked. “I guess you don’t watch the news.”

“Nah, no news is good news, as they say. I only watch sports. Oh and porn.”

Tina did a mock spit take, and said, “You mean together? Is that like an Olympic event now?”

She was good. Quick wit, and with a bawdy sense of humor. Unlike the image I’d assumed from TV. Usually when the news anchors or traffic people tried to engage Tina in a personal conversation on air, she deflected to discuss only the weather. For example, if they mentioned the local pro football team winning, they might ask, did you and your family see the game Tina?” and she’d answer something like, “Well it was perfect weather for it.” She never mentioned a husband or kids, nothing personal whatsoever.

I responded, “If only. I’d look like Michael Phelps on the medal stand.”

She laughed again, blushing slightly, and said, “Wow, such confidence.”

“Blessing and a curse really,” I answered. “So what station do you work for?”

“Channel 10, out of ABCity,” she answered.

“Why’d they send you here then,” I asked.

“Our parade is next week, so they sent me here to cover this. All of the on air “talent” covers a couple local events each year. My last one was covering some people making doughnuts in a church basement.”

“Ah yes, Fat Tuesday,” I said. “So what new in the news? Crime up, stock market down? Single people happy, married people miserable? Same ol’ same ol’?”

She paused at this, maybe I struck a nerve.

She recovered and said, “Well, I only do the weather, but that sounds about right.”

We continued our conversation, her telling me that her cameraman was from this town so he went to visit his family, and she decided to kill time downtown to wait for him.

I asked her if she’d ever seen ‘Groundhog Day,’ where Bill Murray was a weatherman sent to cover groundhog day and kept waking up and reliving the same day over and over.

She had seen it, and remarked that if she remembered correctly, Bill couldn’t move on until he gets in the pants of his producer before the end of the day.

“That’s right,” I said, “but unfortunately for you I’m not that easy.”

“Oh I’m sure,” she laughed, “and you’re also not my producer.”

“Touché.”

As much fun as we were having, I sensed an inner sadness, maybe I clung to the comment she made about her husband not liking her drinking during the day, or her reaction to my comment about marriage.

After an hour or so, as she started to gather her things to leave, I asked, “If I wanted to contact you, can I find an email on the Channel 10 website, or a facebook page or something?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m kind of hard to get ahold of. I had a stalker a few years ago, and my husband doesn’t like me on social media for that and other reasons.”

She paused again and appeared to be thinking, then she said, “Hand me your phone.”

I unlocked my phone, and she added a number under the name TTMCWR — which she said was for “Tina the Minor Celebrity Weather Reporter.”

I laughed, and she said, “That’s a number to a texting app that needs a password, so even if someone gets in my phone, they’d need a separate password to get into that app, if they even knew I had it. You can text me there.”

We hugged goodbye, and I said, “See you Monday morning.”

I didn’t reach out her to over the weekend, and Monday morning I woke up at the start of the Channel 10 morning broadcast and turned it on to see what was in store. I had a whole new anticipation of watching, since she was really now the only “on air” personality that I actually knew.

She was dressed the same — very conservative, no skin showing at all, and if I hadn’t spent an hour with her two days before, I would never have guessed in a million years that she was anything more than Ms. Prim and Proper.

I jerked off during her opening segment, picturing her riding me and filthy words flowing from her mouth as she came and I pumped a load inside her. Too bad Trish had moved (see “Hot for Trisha”), she would have enjoyed the show.

As she finished her first segment and threw it to the traffic person, she was asked about the parade. She did her usual, saying “We definitely had some great weather for it.”

But then to everyone’s surprise I’m sure, she added, Kurtköy Escort “and I had a really great time, there was a guy there who I thought at first was Michael Phelps.”

This was a clear message to me in case I was watching.

I took this opportunity to text her for the first time, saying, “Hi Tina, It’s Mr. Phelps. From one minor celebrity to another, I’m glad the weather cooperated and that you had a great day Saturday. BTW – You make partly cloudy sound really sexy!”

I received a response within a few minutes. “Michael, is that you? How’s the Olympic training going?”

“Haha great,” I answered, “Just finished an early morning workout with the help of the latest weather report.”

“OMG I’m blushing right now,” she replied.

We had some friendly banter, then I said, “on your next segment, send me another message.”

After a minute, she said, “Ok keep watching.”

The next time she came on screen, I was waiting maybe for another Olympic or Michael Phelps reference, but she was all business. Then I saw it- She had taken off her wedding ring.

Ten minutes later, a text from her: “Did you catch that?”

“I did!” I replied. “What would your husband say if he saw that?”

“Oh he only watches the opening segment at 5:00 am just to see what I’m wearing, to make sure I’m not dressed like a slut, as he would say.”

I didn’t know what to say. There was clearly an underlying issue there and there was trouble in paradise for sure.

I simply responded, “If you’d like to talk about that sometime, I’m happy to listen.”

An hour passed, then her next text shocked the hell out of me:

“Would you be able to get a hotel room in XYZtown (a nearby city but not in Channel 10’s viewing area) on Wednesday? I could meet you there around four in the afternoon.”

I tried to lighten things up, saying, “I told you I’m not that easy!”

“Very funny. Just to talk. I can’t be seen in public like at lunch with another guy.”

“Would you rather just come to my house? It’s about as far away as XYZtown, and you could pull right into my garage. Why risk being spotted at a hotel?”

She responded with a thinking emoji, then a minute later, “OK, that works. What’s your address?”

I gave her the directions and instructions, and she was right on time, pulling into my garage around 4:00 and I let her into the house. We sat at my kitchen table and had a drink and she told me her story.

Husband (Ron) was her high school sweetheart. Both of their families are very old fashioned, faith based and traditional, and Ron was no different. Tina was a little more open minded and not as rigid, but it was hard to break away from the culture, mindset and lifestyle that she was raised in. They got married right out of high school, then went to the same technical college. He couldn’t make it through, so he dropped out and a pressured her to as well. She refused and they separated briefly, to the shame of both families, but six months later they got back together and she got pregnant. So she dropped out and they both worked hourly jobs, but she got her degree by going to school part time over many years.

They had just the one child that she had when she was 20, who was now 24 and living elsewhere. (Tina was 44 now). Ron was a blue collar worker, working a 3-11 shift at a local plant. Their routine was always the same. She’d get up at 330 and be at work by 430. Ron would get their daughter up and off to school. Tina would get off work by 10, and she and Ron would have their time together then- lunch or shopping or go to a movie.

He’d go off to work just as the daughter was getting home, and Tina would care for the daughter through the evening. Everyone would be asleep when Ron got home, and they’d do it all over again.

Ron was very controlling. He didn’t allow them to wear anything that exposed any cleavage or really any skin at all. They rarely went out on weekends and had very few friends. No social media was allowed, and cell phones were only for communicating with each other.

Their daughter went to college and never returned, able to break away from the lifestyle as Tina was unable to do. Ron had basically disowned her, and Tina was rarely permitted to speak to her. Now that their daughter was gone, their time together was awkward and strained, and she confessed that she’s not in love with him and hadn’t been for some time.

The bubbly Tina from TV was mostly an act, she said, although that’s her normal personality. Ron had simply sucked the life out of her. Complications during her pregnancy had left her without the ability to have more kids, which Ron took great shame in. Their sex life these days consisted of her spreading her legs for him once every few months, and although he claimed that sex should only be for procreation, he’d get horny on occasion anyway. She never wanted it anymore. She longed for the days of their six month break up, where she met and slept with two other guys, who opened her eyes briefly Pendik Escort to a world beyond plain missionary sex.

Taking the ring off on air was liberating, she explained, and she felt so free without it, even just for those two minutes. She told me that when I said in the bar that single people were happy and married people miserable, she almost cried right there. It was so true.

I asked how she was able to get away to see me, and she explained that Ron was not able to contact her when he was at work. He had a “lunch break” at 7 pm, and occasionally he would call, but rarely. Her duties while he was at work were to do the cooking, shopping and house cleaning, and make sure there was food for him when he got home.

Ron was no threat physically, she explained. A very peaceful man, there was no abuse and she didn’t ever fear for her physical safety.

She desperately wanted to leave him, but didn’t even know how to start the process. She had no friends, no money, and no idea what to do.

Wow. I had no idea what to say or do. She was basically a captive and didn’t have the confidence to head out on her own. That’s really all she needed, confidence and belief in herself that she deserved better and could make it on her own.

“Stand up,” I said, “I want to give you a hug.”

She did, and we hugged.

I told her, “Don’t be afraid. You are smart and educated and beautiful and talented and very likable, and still so young. It’s scary to be out on your own, it was for me too, but you adapt quickly. Go open a separate bank account and have your paychecks sent there. And just tell Ron that you aren’t in love with him anymore and you are both wasting time.”

She pulled back from our embrace, and said simply, “Kiss me.”

I did as she asked, and soon our tongues were dancing as we stood in my kitchen. My hands slowly started moving around her body, and I was able to wiggle my hand up the back of her shirt and feel her skin. Her breathing was becoming more rapid, and I could tell she was getting worked up.

She pulled back from me and said, “I don’t want to have a full blown affair, because I could never pull it off anyway. But I’d love for you to make love to me, just one time, and do it as if we are a loving married couple. Will you do that for me?”

“Anything you want Tina,” I answered. “Follow me.”

I took her back to my bedroom and resumed kissing her. Slowly I undressed her, pulling her shirt off, then unhooking her bra. She was stunning. She was wearing slacks, which I unhooked and lowered down her body, slipping off her little nylon socks as well. She was wearing what you’d describe as “granny-panties”. Nothing sexy about them at all, I suspect she wasn’t allowed to wear anything sexy.

I lowered her underwear, and out jumped a bush. Not overly big and wild, but clearly she spent very little time trimming it. I had never been with anyone with a bush like this.

Of course I didn’t say anything about it, I didn’t want her to be self-conscious, but she said, “Ron doesn’t allow me to shave.”

I gently led her over to the bed and laid her down. I laid on top of her and we continued kissing, with her slipping my shirt off over my head. I started kissing my way down her body, focusing on her nice sized tits and puffy pink nipples. I moved lower, past her belly button, and she tensed up.

“What are you doing?”

I looked up at her, and said “I’m going to eat your pussy. It’s what loving couples do. Is that OK? Have you never had your pussy eaten?”

“No, I haven’t. And no one has ever referred to it as my ‘pussy’. It sounds dirty, and it’s turning me on.”

I smiled to myself and continued my journey south. She almost reluctantly opened her legs, and I spread them a bit wider with my hands pushing her thighs open. Her wetness was evident even through all the hair, and I found it first with my fingers, then my tongue. Tina practically jumped through the roof when my tongue hit her clit, and after a minute of my work, she grabbed my head and arched her back and screamed. She didn’t say “I’m coming,” and I wondered if she even knew that she was.

After she came down, I stood up and started taking my pants off. My hard cock sprang into view, and I saw her eyes widen.

“My goodness,” she whispered.

I grabbed her by the wrist and led her hand to my cock, and she said, “Your penis is so big.”

I looked at her and said, “Tina. we’re not doctors or medical students. We’re supposed to be a loving couple being intimate. It’s not my penis. It’s my dick. Or my cock. Stroke it and say it.”

She just looked at me, unsure, and started slowly stroking my cock. How could a 44 year old woman be so naive about sex?

“Say it,” I said again.

“Your cock is so big,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Listen Tina, loving couples have no inhibitions in the bedroom. Let loose, it’s fine and totally safe to say whatever you are thinking.”

“Your cock is so big,” she said more boldly. “I love the way it feels in my hands. It’s so hard. I can feel it throbbing.”

“Have you ever sucked a cock Tina?” I asked.

She nodded slightly, and said yes, in college she had given head to one of the guys she met during the breakup. But never to Ron, he would have thought it was a sin.

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