It wasn’t like I didn’t see 40 coming. But somehow when I reached my Big Four-Oh, everything seemed to change.

I was in fine physical shape, hitting the gym three times a week. My tits were still firm, my body toned. When I looked in the mirror, I still saw the woman I’d been when I was 25. But apparently the world wasn’t seeing me that way anymore.

My husband, Rick, had had a buddy over recently, and they were watching a DVD. I overheard the friend say, “Hey, that actress looks like Sabrina.” And Rick said, “Yeah, the young Sabrina.”

He wasn’t being mean, just saying it like it was fact. I didn’t tell him I’d heard his comment, but it hurt all the same. I didn’t mind being 40, but I’d started to notice that men weren’t responding to me like they used to. I’d always been a flirt and enjoyed the attention I got, though I’d never cheated on Rick.

Now I was getting blank stares from guys I tried to be coquettish with. It was becoming demoralizing. Even Rick was giving me less attention. We were the same age, but I didn’t think his libido was waning. He just didn’t find me as hot as before. Our sex life had somehow turned into a chore.

The final straw was when I was getting a coffee from a handsome 20-something barista with smoldering eyes. In the part of my mind reserved for fantasies, I wondered how it would feel to have this guy’s hard cock inside me. I went into automatic flirtatious mode and made some double entendre that I figured would provoke a similarly risqué comment.

The smoldering eyes turned puzzled. He said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand.”

I almost lost it right there. Embarrassed as hell I walked down the street, coffee in hand. What the fuck had happened to me? Where were the many men who just a minute ago — it seemed like — had wanted to jump into bed with me? Before this last birthday, I had felt desired, special, like a goddess almost.

Now I felt like chopped liver. I had to do something about this.

First, I gave Rick every chance in the world to respond to me like he used to. I paid him compliments, but got perfunctory replies at best. I wore sexy lingerie, but might as well have dressed in a flannel nightgown for all the action it got me from my husband. He wasn’t cruel in any way. He just didn’t really see me as a sexual creature anymore.

That made me reassess everything. I thought back to when men everywhere had wanted me. I remembered life before I’d married Rick, even. In college I had been a hot little number, with multiple lovers and plenty of others who would have loved a turn with me.

I tried to be brutally honest with my present 40-year-old self, as well. I looked at my taut naked body but could find no fault — which made me believe it was my attitude that had changed. I’d bought into cultural propaganda. On a subliminal level I was no longer projecting confidence and desirability. I had surrendered to my age without knowing it.

Well, I might be 40, I decided. But 40 would be a breakout year.

I decided I would go to a club. There was a local hotspot I’d always heard the younger people at the office mention. I made some excuse to Rick on a Saturday night and went by myself. I almost chickened out at the door, but I screwed up my courage and strode in.

Inside, the music pounded and bodies gyrated on the crowded dance floor. The bar was packed. Well, I’d come to flaunt myself, not get drunk, so I stepped boldly out onto the floor and threw down my best moves.

Lights whirled and colored shadows splashed across everyone. I felt the heat of the nearby bodies. Sweat sprang out on me as I undulated and writhed. I projected a deliberate confidence, not apologizing one whit for my age. Dancing felt good.

It was a free-for-all, and men and women danced with me and around me. Nobody was dismissive of me, which was a huge relief. I felt like I belonged, like I was physically qualified to join in this jubilee. It awakened my erotic impulses. My flesh buzzed. My pussy tingled.

Suddenly, I found myself in close quarters with a wiry male who was matching my every move, very definitely dancing with me. His body was taut beneath a tight T-shirt and jeans. It was a minute before I realized with a shock that this was the barista with the smoldering eyes!

I grinned at him, and he pulled me against him. I felt the unmistakable swell of his erection.

“You want to go out to my car?” he asked, shouting above the music.

I was stunned. I hadn’t planned to go that far with this self-esteem campaign, but I wanted this man. I nodded, and we hurried out to the parking lot. We got into the roomy backseat of his car, which had tinted windows. I felt like a college girl again.

We lay across the seat. I drew his face in for a long, deep tongue-tangling kiss. His body was firm against mine. I ran my hands over his sweat-damp T-shirt. He groped my ass through my skirt.

Our clothes were too hot and cumbersome. We wriggled out of them. Already the windows were steaming up. I could barely believe this was happening. I was lying naked with a studly 20-something guy. I reached down and took hold of his hard cock, which went some way to convincing me of the reality of the situation. He let out a groan and felt up my tits. My nipples twanged into stiff buds.

He moved down to eagerly suck on those mounds. Pleasure raced through me. I raked my fingers through his thick dark hair. He nibbled on my nipples as wetness flowed from my pussy.

When he started kissing his way farther down my body, I shifted around to give him the best access. I trembled with anticipation, distantly trying to remember the last time Rick had gone down on me — then all thoughts of my husband vanished as this hot young male hunkered between my open thighs and put his mouth on my needy pussy.

“I yelped, feeling carnal joy radiate outward from the contact of his lips.”

I yelped with pleasure, feeling carnal joy radiate outward from the contact of his lips on my cleft. I watched as his tongue daubed all over my folds, before finally sliding up into me. His dark eyes looked up and met mine as his tongue cradled my pulsing clit. Those eyes blazed with excitement.

He sucked hard on my pussy, his lips against mine, until the pleasure seized me at my core and bliss spilled out over me. I came helplessly into his mouth, which he kept glued to me, tongue still working as he swallowed my juices.

I sat up, then pushed him onto his back and got down between his toned thighs. Fair was fair, and I desperately wanted a taste of his young cock.

The steaminess of the car’s interior coaxed fresh sweat from both of us. His lean limber body gleamed. I gently scooped up his shaven balls and rolled them on my fingers. His cock was as hard as mahogany, with a swollen purplish cockhead. I lowered my mouth toward it.

He gasped as I closed my lips around him. I worked his plump crown with my tongue, savoring his flavor. Then I dropped my mouth inch by inch down his throbbing shaft. I traced his veins with my tongue tip until finally he was sliding into my throat. I held him there while his balls simmered in my soft grasp.

My mouth lifted and fell on him. He squirmed on the seat. As he’d done with me, I looked up at his face while I was sucking him. His handsome features were torn into an expression of almost unbearable pleasure. I felt a surge of pride at this evidence that my cock-sucking skills could still impress the younger generation.

I pulled off of him before he could unload into my mouth. Much as I would have liked to drink that young barista’s cream, I wanted to finalize this episode in classic fashion. I hadn’t come out tonight specifically to have sex with a stranger. I’d mostly wanted to reaffirm myself as a worthy sexual being. But I wasn’t leaving this car until I’d had this cock deep in my pussy.

We shifted positions once again. I lay back and pulled him on top of me. His spit-wet cock plunged straight into my dripping pussy. He buried himself balls-deep in me, and my reaction was immediate. Furious ripples of joy crossed and re-crossed my body. My pussy clenched hard on his staff as I let out a cry.

He grinned. Then he planted his knees on the cushions and started stroking into me. His slim, muscled body flexed like a well-oiled machine. His cock speared me with every downward lunge. I lifted my legs — glad for my yoga classes — and wrapped them tightly around his waist.

He fucked me harder, his speed increasing. He slammed into me, and every fleshy impact took me further into ecstasy. Somehow I was still coming from his first intrusion, and the pleasure was building and building, becoming a state of constant sexual euphoria.

I clutched at him desperately, not wanting the moment to end. The sharp scent of sex filled the car, an intoxicating aroma. I bucked and writhed as the rapture refused to let me go. It was becoming overwhelming, overloading my carnal circuits. His cock hammered until finally he let out a cry of his own, a twisted howl of triumph.

“I pulled him on top of me. His spit-wet cock plunged straight into my pussy.”

His jizz shot deep inside me, the liquid warmth meeting with my own juices. He shuddered through his climax, and I felt every spurt. Everything washed over with a white haze of satisfaction.

Slowly, we let each other go. My body hummed with deep contentment. My spirit was just as gratified. I had renewed myself tonight. Forty no longer daunted me. I was a woman deserving of every iota of attention and appreciation.

The young man blinked at me dazedly. Some impulse made me say, “You probably don’t remember me, from your coffee place?”

He grinned, scratching his bare sweaty chest. “Sure I do. You made that saucy joke. I panicked. I couldn’t believe a woman as hot and beautiful as you would be coming on to me. I’m glad I got a second chance with you.”

I laughed, a little crazily. I was glad, too.

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