Life Begins

By Naomi Knight

Life Begins at forty, so they say....

Amelia and Jonathan Saint had everything...a happy marriage, a great sex life, two daughters at university, successful careers, a beautiful house in the countryside. However, as Amelia celebrated her fortieth birthday, she realised that she wanted more. She wanted to extend her sexual boundaries. Could she do that without jeopardising her marriage? Find out in Life Begins, book one in the Amelia and Jonathan series.

Warning: sexually explicit. For readers over 18 only.

All characters participating in sexual activity are over 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Goylake Publishing
• Release date: Dec 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005191696

Book preview

cover-image, Life Begins

Life Begins 

Naomi Knight

Copyright 2022 Naomi Knight.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All participants in sexual activity are over 18.

For readers over 18 only.

Chapter One

Life begins at forty, so they say. I smiled, toasted our party guests and sipped my champagne. My husband, Professor Jonathan Saint, had arranged the party. Jonathan was fifteen years older than me, although it must be said, he didn’t look a day over forty-five.

A psychologist, Jonathan possessed close-cropped salt and pepper hair, a finely trimmed goatee beard and smiling blue eyes. He was handsome with broad shoulders and a naturally athletic body. He was the sort of person who could eat whatever he liked and not put on weight, the sort of person who remained naturally fit through everyday activities. Good genes, I guess, good DNA. To my delight, for twenty years we’d been husband and wife.

Jonathan married me soon after I became pregnant with Anna. It wasn’t a honey trap on my part - lust got the better of us and I allowed him to fuck me without birth control. I had no intention of becoming pregnant, but wasn’t sorry when it happened. Fifteen months later, Alice arrived, and our family was whole.

Anna and Alice were at university now, studying sociology and medicine respectively. That meant more time and space for Jonathan and me. We’d always been close, especially in the bedroom, but our main priority had centred on bringing up our daughters. Plus, as psychologists we both had demanding careers. Nevertheless, when together we always ended the day with a kiss and a cuddle. Sometimes, often, our caresses led to long, luxurious lovemaking, or lustful fucking. I always went to sleep with a smile on my face, feeling satisfied. Most nights I enjoyed wet dreams.

I glanced across the crowded room to Jonathan and studied him over the rim of my champagne glass. He’d already given me an eternity ring for my birthday, and I knew that when our guests dispersed, he’d offer me another gift - a prolonged, intense orgasm.

Jonathan had claimed my virginity. I’d been a student in his class. Since my eighteenth birthday, I’d lusted over him and masturbated over him, and plotted to get him between my legs. I sipped my champagne and allowed my mind to wander back to that night

Okay, class, Professor Saint said, Thank you for your attention. Dismissed. See you again next week.

My classmates traipsed out, chatting about boyfriends and parties. However, I hung back so that I could talk with Professor Saint.

I was wondering, I said, running a neatly-manicured fingernail over my textbook, if you could explain Maslow’s hierarchy of needs to me one more time.

That would take some doing, Professor Saint said. Maybe we could go into it in detail next time.

Please, I said. Just explain the sex part.

I fluttered my eyelashes and licked my ruby lips in suggestive fashion. I was wearing a tight-fitting blouse, unbuttoned to reveal my cleavage, and a very short skirt that displayed my stocking tops. I was coming on like a whore, like a slut, but I didn’t care. Throughout my married life, I’ve been demure, the very image of modesty. But that night I wanted Professor Saint, I wanted him so badly. I needed him to ease the ache that throbbed between my legs.

Well, Professor Saint said, like food, water, air and shelter, sex is vital if a person wants to achieve their full potential.

So, I said, to achieve our goals and lead satisfying lives, we need regular sex.

That’s the gist of it, he smiled.

I sat on the edge of my desk. My short skirt rode up to reveal the gusset of my white cotton panties. I undid a button on my blouse to expose my lacy bra. I was a horny eighteen-year-old with dark wavy hair, dark come-to-bed eyes and a developing hourglass figure. I was offering myself to a much older man. He was a handsome testosterone-charged male who’d been eyeing me, and several of my class mates, for a number of weeks. He needed it. I needed it. We needed sex. We needed each other.

I’m not sure who made the first move, but I found myself in Professor Saint’s arms. He certainly knew how to kiss and how to use his hands. While his tongue explored my mouth, his fingers caressed my ass through my cotton panties. He pulled my panties into my ass crack and caressed bare flesh. I leaned into him and moaned.

Anyone could have walked in and caught us, but we were too turned on to care. I wanted him. I was desperate for him. And the large erection straining against his trousers told me that he wanted me.

We continued to kiss with passion. Professor Saint continued to fondle my ass. Then he turned his attention to my breasts, cupping them through my blouse and bra. Mmm, I moaned. Yes…mmm…oh yes...

Fuck, he grunted, rubbing his hard-on against my snatch. We were still fully clothed, but loosening our garments by the second.

Professor Saint undid the buttons on my blouse and revealed my lacy bra. He lowered my bra straps and, with a well-practiced manoeuvre, undid the clasp. Later, I discovered that before he had me, Professor Saint had fucked scores