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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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I never really got to know my wife’s father Martin, but from the little I did see of him, he appeared to be a real tartar: Martin would invariably be glaring out of the window when I arrived to collect Alison for our dates and be standing there again when we returned. That return had to be no later than ten o’clock on midweek nights, or 10:30 at the weekends and with no ‘loitering in the driveway making a spectacle of yourselves’ when we did return.

The only times I ever crossed their threshold were to attend the occasional Sunday lunches to which I was invited and though Alison’s mother Joan was a fantastic cook, pleasant memories of those meals were sparse. The lunches put me in mind of a job interview, or those times that I’d been called into the Headmaster’s study during my schooldays; a barrage of questions, which had me considering what the expected/required answer was before I gave it; stressful rather than enjoyable and I invariably left as soon as good manners allowed.

I’d been dating Ali for almost a year when Martin died in a workplace accident and while I attended his funeral and said the right things, in all honesty I heaved a sigh of relief; I got the feeling that I wasn’t the only one attending from nothing beyond a social obligation. Martin did at least leave his family financially secure: One life-insurance policy paid off the house, while a second provided a lump sum cash payout and an ongoing pension too. While there was no question of negligence our fault, Martin’s employers arranged a similar cash payout and pension provision.

My own welcome, or up until then perhaps ‘tolerance’, in the Harris household changed overnight. On arriving to collect Alison the following Friday evening, Mrs H invited me inside to wait as Ali was ‘running late’ and during our conversation — the first one we’d ever shared? — she ventured that: “There’s no need for you two to rush back on my account; you’re both more than capable of deciding what’s an appropriate time for yourselves.” That said, we didn’t press things and returned soon after eleven and while Mrs H wasn’t patrolling at the window, the lights were on; she was obviously still up.

The following night we pushed the boat out and didn’t get back until almost midnight; then I attended lunch on the Sunday too. That proved to be a far more enjoyable affair, the food was as good as ever, but now with an accompaniment of sociable, relaxed and comfortable conversation. It was during that meal when Alison’s mother proposed that I drop the ‘Mrs Harris’ and in future address her as Joan, or Mum — Wow! If that were not enough, she followed it up by suggesting that if I were planning to join them for lunch on the following Sunday, it would make sense for me to stay over on the Saturday night; even Alison was gobsmacked by that bombshell.

When I arrived on the Wednesday evening for our regular mid-week date, I was again invited in so that Joan might ‘pick my brains for a few minutes’ with regard to a few things that she didn’t quite understand; Ali and I didn’t get out at all that evening, but to be honest, it was no hardship. The majority of Joan’s problems proved to be straightforward issues regarding household bills and the like, it soon became clear that these, along with everything else, had been dealt with by Martin; I was only twenty-one and living at home with my own parents, so back then I didn’t have all the answers, but a phone call to my father resolved any that were beyond me.

Those sort of enquiries became a regular feature with more than a few needing explaining and/or dealing with more than once; Joan invariably mentioning how she ‘struggled with such things and didn’t find it easy without a man about the house to deal with them.’ Before long I was co-opted into dealing with all such matters, though when Joan began to ask my advice with regard to the investment of her insurance pay-outs, I knew that I was out of my depth. I spoke to my father; who asked around then put Joan in touch with a suitably qualified adviser, though Joan insisted that I sit in on those meetings too, ‘just to keep her straight’.

That first night I stayed over was suitably chaste and above board, Alison and I returned around 11:00 to find Joan — as ever — waiting up for us; though after showing me to their guest room and back down the stairs to where Ali was making coffee, she left us to our own devices; we didn’t push it, a kiss and cuddle in the lounge, then up to our separate bedrooms where we stayed. Thereafter, either I stayed over at Joan’s or Alison would come to stay at my parents house, almost every weekend; we lived twenty miles apart, so it allowed me to park the car and enjoy a beer or two.

Of course it also allowed me to enjoy Alison; the chaste and above board bit didn’t last long, a quarter-hour after overtly parting on the landing, I would tip-toe along to Alison’s room to enjoy an hour or two’s lovemaking. Things progressed like that for a few bursa escort months, though we increasingly spent our weekends at Joan’s place rather than my own parents’; I was often doing small maintenance and repair tasks for Joan, but more importantly, it was easier for Alison and I to enjoy an illicit fuck when we were there.

The next evolution came one Sunday morning: Joan was invariably the first up and made Alison and I cups of tea in bed; she’d place mine on the table outside my bedroom door, knock solidly and call out to tell me it was there, then continue along the landing to deliver Alison’s. As usual I woke to Joan’s knock and call, the difference that morning was, that I’d heard her from Alison’s room; it wasn’t the first time that we’d fallen asleep after sex, but it was the first time we’d slept through until morning.

Alison’s tea got delivered to her bedside, so seconds later there was a tap on the bedroom door, then Joan stepped into the room; Alison, was still asleep, so the first thing that Joan saw was my embarrassed face. The cup and saucer Joan was holding rattled, but she didn’t spill a drop; with composure regained, Joan silently walked around to place it on the bedside cabinet beside Alison, then catching my eye once more she stuttered “it seems you’ll be needing both cups in here this morning.” Joan went back to the landing, returned with my tea and having handed it to me, departed and closed the door without uttering another word. Fuck!

The moment Joan left I woke Ali and gave her the bad news; we loitered over our teas, but couldn’t put things off forever; half an hour later we headed downstairs to the kitchen. I don’t know what we expected, but it wasn’t what we got: Joan was preparing breakfast just like any other morning, similar conversations flowed and neither Joan nor ourselves made any reference to what’d transpired. Thankfully I’d arranged to play football that morning, so made my exit a little more promptly than I might otherwise. But speaking to Ali on the phone that evening she reported that Joan had continued to remain silent; Joan she still didn’t mention it when I visited on the Wednesday evening.

It was with some trepidation that I arrived, the following Friday evening, this was surely the moment for the shit to hit the fan; I made a point of getting there late to provide Ali and I with a good excuse for leaving quickly. As Alison opened the door, Joan appeared in the hallway and her eyes locked on my overnight bag, my gut tightened as Joan began to speak: “If you’re as late as Alison says, you two had better shoot off straight away; I’ll put your bag upstairs for you Mike…” I managed nothing beyond a dumb nod as Joan took the bag from my hand “… there’s no point in messing up two beds unnecessarily, so I’ll drop it straight into Alison’s room.” Joan turned away as Ali while I looked at each other flabbergasted.

The following and indeed on all subsequent mornings, Joan delivered two cups of tea to Alison’s room, though now Joan knocked and waited outside the door until we answered before coming in. With Joan condoning our sharing a bed, my overnight stays became even more regular, my Wednesday night visits became over-nighters and the weekends soon included Sunday nights too; though I didn’t notice it at the time, Joan began calling on and deferring to me even more.

Four months later I finished my apprenticeship and was now a qualified Heating and Air Conditioning Engineer; my wages doubled overnight. On the strength of that Alison and I announced our engagement and began saving towards buying our own home, though given the crazy property prices in our area, it wasn’t going to be easy. Besides the hefty pay rise, my promotion saw me working from a new depot, a fifty mile round trip from my parents’ place, but only five miles away from Joan’s; it was a no-brainer, I began to stay there almost every night.

That progression quickly saw the conversation turning to: ‘We may as well just get married now and stay with Mum until we can afford a place of our own’; the idea was fine by me, so Alison and I were married eight weeks later. We flew to Cyprus for a two week honeymoon — saving for our own house was no longer such a priority — and it was when we returned from that holiday that things changed substantially:

We arrived to find that Joan had re-done the upstairs of the house while we were away. All the bedrooms were re-decorated with the main one completely refitted and refurnished; my own and Alison’s stuff had been moved into there too, while Joan had transferred her own things into Alison’s old room. We were more than happy to swap and Joan’s comment that “with two of you sharing, it makes far more sense for you to have the bigger room” couldn’t be disputed. What I didn’t fully appreciate the significance of was Joan’s addendum: “Besides, with Mike now being the man of the house, it’s only right that he sleeps in the master bedroom.”

Over bursa escort the next few months ‘Man of’ and ‘Master of the house’ began to appear often in Joan’s lexicon and besides the swap of bedrooms, there were other alterations too: At meal times I was now allocated the chair at the head of the table and was also referred to with regard to the menus; when I casually mentioned a liking for Indian and Thai food, Joan bought suitable cookbooks and necessary ingredients, learnt how to cook my favourite dishes and added them to the menu. Similarly, the Lay-Z-boy reclining chair in the lounge which Joan had been using since Martin’s death now became solely my preserve.

I’d long been giving opinions and advice, but now all household decisions became mine; irrespective of Alison’s thoughts or opinions, Joan would invariably defer to me. To begin with I found it amusing and would often voice some ludicrous opinion just to wind up Ali; I could argue that black was white and Joan would agree, on the basis that as the ‘Man of the house’ so ‘must know best’. Only when Alison stopped taking the bait, thereby taking the fun out of it, did I stop playing silly-buggers; besides, Ali would take her revenge in our bedroom, I was only ever Master in there when Alison allowed me to be. My teasing aside, it was an idyllic period.

I’m sure things would’ve gone on like that forever had Leo not rocked the boat. I’d known Leo for years, he was one of the group of friends who’d stayed in touch after leaving school; our lives had diverged, be we still met regularly at a local pub to sink a few beers and watch the Monday night football on TV. Now living twenty miles away, so having to drive home, I’d not been attending as often as I used to and may not have gone that evening either had Alison been at home. Alison was climbing the corporate ladder with one of the major banks and had gone away for three days on some training course.

The guys had taken the piss about my irregular attendance from the moment I arrived, accusations that I wasn’t allowed to go out with them nowadays as I ‘under the thumb’ with Ali and equally so with Joan; there were lots of mother in law jokes made at my expense. None of it was true, hell, Joan had offered to drive me to and back home from the pub that evening, suggesting that she could ‘just wait in the car with a book’; Joan wasn’t the sort of lady to sit alone in a pub. There was no mileage my in arguing back, the guys would have loved that and ripped the piss out of me even more; then in a moment of silence, Leo’s interjection landed:

“Of course, Mike knows we’re only giving him a hard time because we’re jealous of the sweet gig that he’s landed; the luscious Alison might be away tonight, but he’s still got Mrs H’s juicy cunt to slip into when he gets home.” Unsurprisingly the guys all shouted him down; hell, I too was creased-up laughing at the suggestion, but when things settled down, Leo continued:

“You need to look a bit closer and then think about it; beneath that old fashioned hairstyle and the schoolmarm glasses, Mrs H is quite a looker, not drop-dead gorgeous I’ll grant you, but we’ve all had a lot worse…” That drew more laughter, but less than his opening line; it tailed off completely as the other guys and indeed me too realised that there was more than a little truth in what Leo had just said.

“…To be fair I have an advantage over the rest of you: Last summer, during that really hot spell, I did a job just across the road from Mrs H’s” — Leo installed plastic windows and doors — “and she was working in her garden while we were there; I was bloody amazed! Instead of the dowdy clothes she usually wears, Mrs H was kitted out in a pair of Capri pants and a loose man’s shirt; when it got hot in the afternoons, she even tied that shirt off underneath her boobs. I’m telling you, she’s got a cute little body tucked away under that frumpy clothing, her tits aren’t the biggest, but she’s got a trim waist, a tight arse and a cracking pair of legs. Mike’s well away with that one, I’ll bet he’s shagging her whenever Ali walks out of the door.”

There garnered another round of crude and raucous comments, which only tailed off when the match kicked off; to be honest I only ever half watched that, thoughts of Joan and what Leo had been saying about her continued to divert my attention: I’d never contemplated Joan… in that way, but she was quite sweet faced, as Leo had spotted, lose the glasses and ignore the hairstyle, Joan was a pretty lady; she never wore make-up and I could now see that with just a little effort she’d be seriously attractive. His review of her body was harder to imagine, Joan’s dress style ran to loose sweaters, tweedy, below the knee skirts and clumpy, sensible shoes. Joan’s wardrobe was twenty five years out of date and would’ve looked conservative even then; that said, Joan wasn’t overweight, so it could be true.

I never got entirely bursa eskort back into the swing of the evening and continued to ponder what Joan might look like with new glasses or contacts and a re-style of her copper-blonde hair, along with a touch of make-up and a more flattering wardrobe. In my distraction I’d sunk four pints by the time I set-off home, not drunk, but I’d have been in trouble had the police pulled me over. Still contemplating the results of a make-over for Joan as I drove home, it struck me that I could probably make it a reality: I was the Man of the House after all, so if I were to suggest to Joan that she did what I was visualising, I’d no doubt that she’d go for it; if Mike thought that, it must be true.

I arrived home near midnight, the lights were on and I could see the TV flickering beyond the curtains; whenever Alison or I went out in the evening, Joan still stayed up until we returned in case there was anything we needed. Joan asked if I wanted a coffee or a cocoa as I stepped through the door; I settled on a coffee, then before heading for my lay-Z-boy I watched Joan head into the kitchen. Even when ready for bed Joan revealed no hint as to the body which Leo had described, her dressing gown was shaped like a bell tent, buttoned tight beneath her chin and a hem that brushed the top of her slipper-clad feet; the Master of the house was going to have to instruct Joan to wear something a little more… alluring.

I was sat in the lounge, tuning the TV to the end of a football highlights programme when Joan delivered my coffee; as expected, she wasn’t having one herself… ‘I’m going up to bed, unless there’s anything else you want?’

I swear to God that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind before that moment; I’d been undressing or more precisely re-dressing Joan in my mind for much of the evening, but nothing more. But I was the Master of this house, wasn’t I? “No thanks, I’m good… Oh, but leave your bedroom light on when you get into bed.”

I kept my attention on the TV screen, pointedly not looking around; I could imagine the quizzical expression that would have now been playing across Joan’s face: “Whatever for Mike?”

“Because in a quarter of an hour, when I’ve drunk my coffee and this programme’s finished, I’ll be coming in to fuck you.” I delivered the line in a casual tone with my eyes still glued to the TV screen, appearing to ignore Joan completely; but I heard her breathing heavily and could picture the pink flush and film of perspiration that would be making Joan’s face glow. I never looked around and Joan must’ve stood there for over a minute, perhaps two before she turned and walked silently to the door;.

Only when I heard Joan’s foot falls on the staircase did I call out an addendum: “And wear something sexy!” No response, but Joan’s footsteps paused for several seconds before she continued upwards.

I’d finished my coffee inside three minutes and by then couldn’t give a shit about the TV programme; but the Man of the House had said fifteen minutes, so I waited. Having turned the TV and lights off, I took a few deep breaths to steady my nerves at the foot of the stairs, then climbed them at a casual, unhurried pace; I hadn’t wanted to pause. I was halfway up when I saw light shining around the edges of Joan’s bedroom door and walking down the landing when I noted that the door wasn’t actually fully closed; unusual, I took that as a sign of assent, or at the very least, capitulation.

I looked directly toward Joan when I entered the bedroom and kept our gazes locked as I undressed; once again I strove to be casual and unhurried, this was just an everyday ‘normal’ thing for me to be doing. Beyond her face there wasn’t much else of Joan to be seen, she was beneath the covers and those were drawn-up tight beneath her chin. More positively, the covers on the opposite side of the bed had been turned back; ready for someone else to join her?

That surely smacked of assent rather than merely yielding? I accepted the invitation and without words slipped in beside Joan, flicking the covers off her as I did so; a moment later I shuddered then froze, the expression on Joan’s face told me that she’d noted my response: “You… you… don’t like it?”

“It’s bloody awful Joan, get rid of it.”

Joan looked crestfallen as she peeled off the nightdress she was wearing, it was short and diaphanous, but that was the end of any good news: An orangy-pink thing in scratchy looking nylon, festooned with small ribbons and embroidered flowers, straight out of the 1970s, it was dreadful!

In hindsight there perhaps was more good news: I suspect that Joan’s eagerness to remove the vile garment from my sight, overrode the reluctance to get her kit off that I’d expected. Joan tossed the night dress across the room: “I’m sorry Mike, but it’s the only thing I had that was… suitable. I bought it for my honeymoon and I’ve never worn it since; Martin didn’t like me to wear anything…revealing… he didn’t permit it.”

“Well I’m the Man of the house now and I do want to see you wearing something more revealing, in fact I insist upon it… You’ll need to go shopping and get something a lot racier… before the next time.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Kaylee stood by the front door of Cox Shoe Store waiting for the last few customers of the day to leave. It was almost five o’clock and she had a lot to do before Matt picked her up to go to the movies, but as luck would have, at five to five another customer walked through the door.

Kaylee groaned to herself, “Why me?!?” She looked to see if either of the other salesgirls were free, but no such luck, they were both still showing shoes to the two ladies still seated in the try on chairs. Kaylee moved towards the 21 year old lady who was by now looking at a display of high healed evening shoes and asked, “May I help you ma’am?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I’m looking for a pair of black leather pumps, something like these, maybe.” The lady was holding a popular black pump with three and one half inch heals. Kaylee directed the woman to sit down so she could measure her foot.

Kaylee helped the lady slip off her shoe and slid it into the foot measurer. The woman had on a pair of very expensive silk stockings that clung to her perfectly shaped ankle and foot, and while Kaylee adjusted the position of her foot, she thought that she heard the lady make a small gasping sound! Kaylee looked up to see if everything was okay, bursa yabancı escort but the woman caught her with a steady gaze, giving her no sign of there being a problem.

Kaylee made the necessary measurements and announced that she needed to find a 7b in black leather pumps. The lady nodded and Kaylee went to the back room to find the pair she needed. When she came back she sat down on the stool in front of the woman and helped her slip it on with a shoe horn, and after working the heal back and forth, the foot finally settled neatly in place. Picking up the other shoe Kaylee repeated the process and asked the lady, “How do they feel?”

They feel pretty good, and please call me Nickie,” answered the older woman. “Well, Nickie, try walking in them to get a better feel,” said Kaylee. Nickie stood up and walked back and forth on the carpet in front of the chairs and Kaylee couldn’t help but notice that for a moment, this woman had a very nice figure.

After several moments Nickie sat back down, but this time her skirt seemed to have slid much farther up her legs giving Kaylee a perfect view of the tops of her black stockings! Nickie said that these would be fine but that bursa sınırsız escort she wanted another pair, but in suede, so Kaylee again went to the store room and picked out another pair! After sitting back down, she began pulling off the black pumps that Nickie had just tried on, but as she began to tug on the heal of one of the shoes, Nickie slightly spread her legs to reveal a very bare shaved pussy.

Kaylee stared for a moment but removed the shoes as if nothing had happened. She wasn’t sure, but she felt that Nickie may have exposed herself on purpose! Picking up the suedes she started to put on the right shoe on Nickie’s foot, but this time, only more overtly, Nickie spread her legs and held them open! Now Kaylee could plainly see the bare pussy, and while taking a longer look, Kaylee could see that Nickie was in a state of high sexual excitement as her crack glistened with juice that had leaked from her pussy!!!

Making no attempt to hide her intentions Nickie flexed her pelvic muscles which made her lips open and close slightly! Breathing harder now, Nickie asked in a low voice, “Dear would you please massage my foot, it seems to have a cramp?” Looking around the store görükle escort to make sure no one was watching, Kaylee took Nickie’s foot into her hands and softly rubbed the arch, feeling her whole body stiffen as she gently rubbed the pretty foot.

Kaylee was now caught up in the game, and leered more boldly at the gaping slit between the older woman’s legs as she was now unashamedly exposing her genitals to the young girl! Kaylee looked back up and said, “You’re quite the slut aren’t you?!?” The near dirty talk made Nickie let out with a soft moan. “Are you going to cum you little cunt,” pressed Kaylee?

“Oh yes,” the now shaking lady answered! Kaylee could now see that the bare pussy was now beginning to spasm out of control as the fat lips began to open and close erratically as her orgasm began to build up in her cunt! Kaylee giving a quick look around the store, and when she was satisfied that the coast was clear, she buried her index finger deep into the gaping pussy, and after only two or three quick thrusts, Nickie’s whole body stiffened while a vicious orgasm wrenched her shaking pussy!!! Afterwards, she slumped over in the chair waiting for her cum to subside and her breathing to return to normal before announcing softly, “I’ll take both pairs of pumps, wrap them up.”

As Nickie left the store, another salesgirl named Judy came over and said, “Nice sale at the end of the day Kay!” All Kaylee said was, “Yeah, nice sale”! But little did Kaylee know but Matt had witnessed what had just happened between her and Nickie, his sister.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I stood at the entrance of my old job the restaurant that I used to spend 60- 70 hours a week at. The chefs even called me OT as a nickname to tease me about all the overtime I got when I was there. A couple of things where stopping me from going into the restaurant I left almost 3 years ago. One of them was would anyone even remember me let alone recognize me. I had lost a lot of weight and cut off almost all my hair. Now I’m 5’8″ about 160lbs (but I had more muscle then the average women) Hazel blue eyes and short blonde hair. When I worked at Dyning’s before I was about 240lbs and had hair halfway down my back. The other reason I was hesitant about going inside was because the executive chef and I got into so many disagreements that it was sad I worked with him for 2 years before I finally left.

“Just go inside and talk to one of the servers. Chef Danny might not even be there today.” Mary, my best friend for 10 years said. Danny was said chef that I couldn’t stand.

“ok I’ll go in” I said “I’ll talk to you later bye babe” I hung up the phone as I walked into Dyning’s. There was no way that Chef Danny wasn’t there he was always at work. Probably the only thing I liked about him I thought.

The hostess was busy helping some tourist with their map, so I stood there to wait but looked at the bar and saw Ashley one of the bartenders I worked with during my management training. So, I walked around the hostess and headed to the bar. Ashley greeted me with a smile asking if she could get me something to drink which I declined.

“You probably don’t recognize me, but I used to work here a couple of years ago” As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw recognition flash into her eyes.

“Sam is that you man you look amazing shit I never would have guessed that was you. God damn you look great you lost so much wight and you cut your hair.” Ashley said.

After talking to Ashley and a couple of the servers I worked with I found out that Danny was on vacation and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. Knowing this I headed into the back of the restaurant to the kitchen I had already figured that the servers would have told the cooks that I was there. So, I wasn’t surprised by the whoops and cat calls I got when I walked into the back. Most of the cooks I recognized but there were a few that had no clue who I was but did a cat call anyways. I was talking to Jimmy a grill cook that had worked there since the place opened when I felt someone lift me up from behind which caused me to scream. When he set me back down I turned and hugged Chef Jose. Jose and I only worked together for a year, but we grew close to each other. He was like a brother to me and the only person I talked to after I left. We talked as he walked with me up to the chef office. I was laughing at Jose as I sat in a plush chair in the office. I looked over to see another chef in the office a woman. She had straight long brown hair, but she was looking at the computer inputting data, so I didn’t get to get a good look at her. Jose introduced her as Chef Jennifer, but she never looked up or turned around she just throw her hand up in a wave and said hi. Jose explained that she had been hired a couple of months after I left.

Me and Jose talked for about half an hour before he had to go back downstairs to “babysit”. That was how we both felt about being a Chef its less cooking and more making sure your guys are doing thing right and not getting into fights. With Jose gone I walked over to the Front of house managers office and talked to the managers I used to work with. All which asked if I was coming back to work with them. I explained to them that I had just gotten a chef job right next door and about not bursa otele gelen escort wanting to work with Danny again. They of course understood that they couldn’t talk me into it. I went back downstairs and was talking to Jake (a prep cook) about how I had been and how things with my family had been. Another reason I left was because somethings had happened with my sister and I had gotten temporary custody of my 2 nephews.

“Hey, do you know Chef Jennifer?” He asked as he nodded towards the back door of the restaurant by the stairs.

“No, I don’t know her Jose introduced us, but I never got a good look at her she just kind of waved. She was busy working on the computer.” I said as I turned around.

Oh man had I missed out Jennifer was knockout. She was a couple inches shorter than me slender build, honey brown eyes you could melt into and tanned skin. That straight Brunette hair making me think about it spread out on my pillow as she looked down at me with those honey brown eyes as I licked her clit my name coming out of her mouth as I make her cum under me.

It took me a minute to relies that Jake had not only called her over to talk but that I was staring at her. I shake my head to clear the naughty thoughts out of it.

“Hey Jennifer, you know Sam? She left here a couple of months before they hired you.” He said.

“Jose said something about that but no I don’t know her” She said to Jake then she turned to me extending her hand “It’s nice to meet you Samantha.”

I took her smooth hand in mine her skin was soft as butter. “the pleasure is all mine”

Jennifer “so how long did you work here for?”

“I was tortured in this place for 4 years before I escaped” I joked with a soft laugh. Which caused her to laugh it was like music to my ears I wanted to hear it some more.

Jennifer “so how do you feel about Chef Danny?”

Me “to tell you the truth when Danny first got hired here, he was pretty ok some would even say kind of friendly to me. Then he found something out and he hated me ever since. He treated me badly and always gave the shit shifts never giving me days off I requested things like that. Then we started to argue a lot. From what I gather probably as much as you and he argue. Trust me though he doesn’t hate you as much as he hates me.”

Jennifer “what did he find out?”

I was a little hesitant to answer but I know she would find out eventually. So, I took a deep breath and said “I slept with his fiancée”.

She busted out laughing “are you fucking kidding me?”

“Look it was before they even knew each other. I had only worked here for a year when it happened. We were both pretty drunk at a friend’s party and it just happened. We only did it once.” I explained. I don’t know why I had the need to explain my sex life to her but I did.

Jennifer “How did he find out? Did she tell him or did you?”

Me “I guess you could say I’m the one that slipped up. A coworker was asking if I remembered a server after she transferred to another restaurant in the company. So, he was describing her to me, and I casually said, ‘oh the one I hooked up with at Randy’s (a coworker) party’. Everyone around us started laughing I didn’t know why. Then he explained that her and Danny got engaged. I didn’t know why she had transferred but I guess it was so her and Danny could be together. Well you know how it is in the kitchen, so it didn’t take long for Chef Danny to find out. He has hated me sense.”

Jennifer and I talked for a couple more minutes before she was pulled away and Jose was kicking me out. As I walked out of the kitchen behind her I couldn’t stop myself from escort bayan checking out her plump behind as it swayed back and forth. I said my goodbyes. Walking back to my car, I laughed about it being the first time Jose kicked me out of the kitchen instead of bagging me to stay late. I was also thinking about how I could talk to Jennifer some more. For some reason I just couldn’t get this woman out of my head.

Two Months Later:

I was working on a new recipe in the kitchen of Craves the new restaurant that just opened. I had been working on this recipe for a week and couldn’t get the sauce just right it felt like it was missing something. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what that was. Sighing I thought to myself I would just have to work on it tomorrow. It was well past 2 in the morning and I had to be back in 7 hours for a meeting. So, I cleaned up my mess and put my recipe book in the office and headed out for the night. I was locking the door when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I had seen her a couple of times either coming into work or leaving but I never talked to her.

“hey you’re Samantha, right?” Jennifer asked.

“Yeah, hi Jennifer but everyone calls me Sam.” I said, as we started to walk towards the employee parking lot. “so, how’s working with Chef dickhead?”

Jennifer “oh it’s the same shit different day. I swear he thinks he is god’s gift to earth. Always must be right I can’t stand his BS.”

Me “yeah trust me I understand where you are coming from, I’ve been there before. I would just ignore him when he starts talking like that.”

Jennifer “let’s talk about something else, how is the new job going?”

Me “It is going great I love the job and the people I work with it’s like a little family. Unlike working at Dyning I don’t feel like a babysitter. I’m cooking, coming up with recipes and working with the executive chef to create a new menu not just being told what to do. I’m working on this new dessert recipe, but I feel like the sauce is missing something I can’t put my finger on.”

Jennifer “Maybe I can help you out with that someday. Desserts are one of my specialties.”

I bet it is she looked like a walking dessert one that could get me into a lot of trouble. That didn’t stop me from looking at her soft red lips thinking about how good they would feel on mine. She must have had the same thought because next thing I know I was pushed up against a wall as she brought her lips to mine. I was right her lips were soft and a little sweet I wanted to return the kiss. I wanted to deepen it, but I was so surprised I didn’t have time to react before she was gone. I heard her mumble “I needed to know” then she ran the rest of the way to her car before I even regained my thoughts. I touched my finger to my lips part of me thinking that I just imagined the whole thing. There were two things I knew for sure one I was horny as hell and two there was no way I going to be able to sleep now.

As I walked the rest of the way to my car, I scrolled through my phone to someone I know would be up and let me have my way with her. I called Amber who answered the phone on the third ring saying she would meet me at my house in half an hour. It only took me 20 mins to get home, so I took the time to get in the shower and scrub the kitchen gunk off me. Five minutes later I heard the knock on my door I wrapped myself in a towel and opened the door. I grabbed Ambers hand and walked into the guest room. She was about 5’4 slender build platinum blonde hair with blue tips and green eyes. She was beautiful and we tried dating for a while, but she never understood the demands that came as being a chef. We broke up mudanya escort but whenever I was horny, and she was single I would call her to hook up.

I grabbed her under her arms and throw her onto the bed she shrieked and yelled “what gotten into you?”

“I need to fuck someone hard are you in or not?” I asked firmly.

“oh, I am so in” she said gabbing my face and pulled me down for a kiss. My lips met hers and I pushed my tongue into her mouth causing her to moan. I took her hand and tied them to the headboard of the bed with a tie I left in the room. I looked into her eyes as I grabbed the fabric of her shirt and tore it in half freeing her breast. I took one into my mouth and the other in my hand causing her to moan but I didn’t want to make her moan I wanted to make her scream my name as she came. I bit down on her nipple and pinched the other between my fingers making her shriek. Then I licked the nipple I bit and switched to the other one and did the same thing until she started thrusting her pelvis up trying to grind her pussy on me.

I smiled knowing she was wet I could feel the wetness through her shorts and opening in my towel. I make my way down her body kissing as I go. I nipped her thigh causing her to squirm and moan some more. I pulled her running shorts down her legs not surprised she didn’t have any panties on. I licked the tip of her clit and ran my tongue down her slit then pushed my tongue deep into her pussy. With my finger I pinched her clit and twirled it. She was so wet, and I wanted her to cum, so I pushed a finger into her throbbing pussy then two and three. She rocked her hips in time with my fingers I knew she was close, so I licked her clit and sucked it into my wet mouth. I stayed like that until she calmed down. She came loudly but I wanted her to scream.

I got off the bed and she protested she wanted me to untie her so she could do me. I told her no and walked to the closet and found the bag that had my toys in it. I slipped into a harness and turned around. She stopped complaining when she saw that I was wearing a strap-on.

“I’m going to fuck you with this until you scream my name.” I told her. She didn’t say anything she just nodded still staring at the cock I had between my legs. I walked to the bed and climbed onto it. I looked down at her and rubbed the cock against her slit coating the tip with her juices. I knew she was wet enough to take the whole thing but just to be sure I grabbed the bottle of lube and rubbed a bit onto the dildo. I put the tip against her pussy and pushed with one hand I was holding myself up and the other I rubbed her clit making her grind on the cock as it slid into her. I slid all the way in Amber was like an animal screaming at me to fuck her hard. So I did as I was told I slammed that cock into her over and over. She kept screaming at me to fuck her harder deeper and faster.

I slowed down and untied her hands and told her to flip over onto all fours. She did as she was ordered, and I thrusted back into her. I reached up and grabbed a handful of her hair as I fucked her. She wanted hard and fast, so I gave it to her. I was close to coming the nub on the strap on was rubbing on my clit I knew it would be soon. I told Amber to rub her clit as I fucked her. She was trembling I knew she would come soon. A few more trusts and she screamed “Fuck… Sam… I’m… cummmmiiinngg!!” Her trembling caused me to cum too. I took my pleasure in silence like I always did. When she relaxed i slipped out of her and walked to the bathroom where I cleaned myself up. When I was done, I undid the harness cleaned the strap-on and put it back here I got it then told her she could stay the night and walked over to my bedroom. I laid in bed it was already 6 I had a meeting at 9. Thankfully I had off the rest of the day so I can sleep. I just laid there thinking about Jen. I couldn’t get the taste of her lips out of my head. Lavender. That’s what it needed the sauce just a hint of lavender.

To be continued.

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“That won’t be necessary, Kim.”

“But…”

“I know Mistress Kelly just told you to strip as I requested, but she also told you to obey all my orders, right?”

“Yes, ma’am, that is correct.”

“Well, I am ordering you to sit down and relax.” Turning to Sandra she said, “Would you like to sit, too, love?”

“Yes, ma’am, I would.” Melissa extended her hand towards the chair beside me indicating where Sandra should sit.”

The tone in Sandra’s voice couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. “Oh, shit! You’re…”

Melissa laughed and completed my statement, “Sandra’s Mistress? Yes, Kim, I am Sandra’s Mistress. Your Mistress called me this morning and said that she needed

our help tomorrow. I have made it a point never to mix our personal life (with a gesture towards Sandra, she indicated what she meant by ‘our’) with our business life. For the record, you just saw, for the first, and probably the last, that Sandra will ever take the role of my submissive within the walls of this company. You are the only employee that even knows we are an item. As you must realize, it is extremely necessary that we keep our personal life separate from the company’s so that no one will ever be able to bring up an issue of favoritism. I will do the same for you. After you walk out my door, today, I do not plan to discuss the society with you ever again while at work, and you will not bring it up with me. I made this meeting an exception to my rule since the assistance Kelly needs involves you, and I wanted to discuss it with you first because time is of the essence. While I decided to have a little fun at your expense, I did clear that little charade with Kelly.” I was still a little pissed, but at least her explanation made it a little more palatable. “You did quite well, by the way. I would probably have been even more combative. And, also for the record, there is no morals clause in your contract, so you don’t have to go read it again.

“First and foremost, from the conversations Sandra has already had with you, you know that we were at Lisa’s Hideaway when you first agreed to be Kelly’s slave. It is extremely important you know that your selection as our new CIO had absolutely nothing to do with my involvement in the society. Diane’s change of status had been decided about the same time you started the new installation process, which, as you also know, is before you even met Kelly. Once she saw you working, Diane came to me and said we shouldn’t do an expensive search for her replacement. You really impressed her. That was also done before you met Kelly. The only delay in approaching you was in getting the approval of our board and your former employer. I did, for selfish reasons, tell Kelly that you were under consideration for the position. I wanted her help in case there was a chance you wouldn’t want to accept it.” OK, now everything started to make sense. I was pleased I got the position on my own merits.

“And, in case you haven’t figured it all out, I am the person you met when you wore the hood and cat suit. I’m the current president of the society. And, yes, Sandra was there, too. All that being said, we need to discuss Kelly’s request. As I understand it, Kelly told you that Allyson and Sam would be taking you to your Collaring Ceremony tomorrow.”

“That’s right, ma’am,” I replied.

“Seriously, Kim, within these walls you and I have to be on the same personal level. Please call me Mel. Well, to continue, something came up that prevents Allyson and Sam from preparing you for the ceremony I am not at liberty to tell you what came up, just that it’s nothing serious. In fact, I would consider it to be something good. They will both be at your collaring.” “So, I promised Kelly that Sandra and I would help with to your preparations, which means that you will be going to our house before the picnic instead of Allyson’s house. Since you do not know where we live, Sandra will pick you up at Kelly’s in the morning. Is that satisfactory with you?”

“I’m sure that is what Mistress Kelly asked you to do, and anything my Mistress wants is satisfactory with me,” I answered with a grin.

“Good answer! Welcome to Hunter and please complete your paperwork as soon as you can.” Melissa replied. I returned to work wondering what in the world was going on. Sandra phoned me before we left work and said that she would pick me up at 11, in the morning.

Kelly called just before I left work and instructed me to meet her at Lisa’s after I went home to change.

Only bursa evi olan escort a note was waiting for me on the table. “kimmy, dear, I purchased some new clothes for you to wear tonight. They on the bed. Since I am not home, you do not have to undress before going to the bedroom. See you soon at Lisa’s. Love, Mistress Kelly.

My clothes turned out to be a ‘uniform’ that a girl attending a private school might wear: a red plaid, pleated skirt, a white, short-sleeve blouse with collar, and a black tie. Well, that’s not totally true, the skirt was a mini. I guessed it to be no more than twelve inches long from waist to hem and the shirt was only waist length. I was thankful she included white cotton bikini panties. At least my ass would be covered. Additional clothing was a pair of over-the-knee white socks, my black flats.

Another set of instructions said, “Your hair is long enough for two small pigtails. Use the red ribbon to tie them up. Also, put your driver’s license, and nothing else, in your black over-the-shoulder bag.

Rebecca was the receptionist when I walked into Lisa’s. I started walking directly to Kelly’s table, as I had for the past two weeks. Rebecca dashed over to me. Excuse me, miss, but you have to be over 21 or with an adult to come in here after 6. I turned and said, “My adult is waiting for me at her table, Rebecca.”

“Oh, shit, kimmy. I didn’t recognize you. You look fab, like a 14-year-old. Yes, Kelly is at her table.”

Kelly jumped up as I approached and exclaimed, “Damn, you look so beautiful, kimmy. I could almost throw you on the table and eat you up, but I’d probably be accused of sex with a minor.

I was surprised that my collar was not on the table. Kelly looked at me, smiled, and said, “Kimberly, in about twenty hours, you will begin ‘the first day of the rest of your life. I have decided I want to suspend the terms of your contract and make tonight one in which you are a free woman. I intend to spend the evening with you as friend and lover. Let’s have a nice dinner, see a good movie then go home and make love. May I continue to wear my chain collar, Kelly?”

“You may, dear; for the time being.”

Kelly tiptoed out of the bedroom in the morning without disturbing me. She returned later with a lap tray and my breakfast. “Time to eat, love. Sandra will be here in an hour.” She sat on the side of the bed and we talked as I devoured the food she had placed in front of me. I had to admit that there were a few moments on Friday when I lost a little of the trust I was supposed to have. Kelly understood and admitted that my reaction is exactly what they had expected. My reaction was honest, and she had promised she would never punish me for honesty. That’s why I didn’t really punish you after the Faire, even though I set you up to think you would be caned. In fact, I love that you were you, if that makes sense.

I asked what I was to wear. “The choice is yours for the last time, Kimberly. Whatever you choose, you need to know that you will be wearing something special for your collaring.”

“I think I will wear my stretch jeans, then,”

“I would recommend a skirt and blouse,” I knew that would be her reaction, and laughed because I had no intention of wearing jeans.

She watched as I put on soft cup bra, a white turtle neck sweater, white cotton, bikini panties, a white pleated skirt, white ankle socks, and black penny loafers.

“All white, pet?”

“My collaring is similar to wedding, isn’t it, Mistress?”

“Ergo, the bride wears white. The major difference kimmy, is that a wedding is validated by law. The similarity is that like, the two parties in a wedding who dedicate their lives to one another, we are dedicating our lives to one another,” Kelly replied.

Sandra was prompt. As we walked to the car, she told me how pleased she was to be helping me prepare for my collaring ceremony. However, she wouldn’t tell me what to expect, simply saying, “Mistress Melissa will explain.”

During the ride I revealed that I was scared shitless for a few minutes after entering Melissa’s office, thinking that I really had been “discovered.” I even started second guessing my decision to continue as Kelly’s slave, but only for a moment. Sandy told me that she, too, was surprised when Melissa called and explained what she wanted to do.

When we entered her house, Sandy advised me that her first duty was to give me a shower, so we went directly to their bedroom altıparmak escort where we both stripped. Sandy opened a drawer in the lingerie chest and handed me a key that was inside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she spread her legs and said, “I need your help in removing this.” I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Her labia had been pierced on either side of her vagina. Small diameter eyelet tubes, like one might see in earlobes, had been inserted in the piercings. The yoke of a small brass padlock had been slipped through the two tubes. I realized that, when this was locked in place, it became the ultimate chastity device.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “Doesn’t wearing it all day bother you?”

“Actually, I like it. Its presence is a constant reminder of my status as Melissa’s sub. It’s a real turn on when I am wearing a skirt without panties.”

“Should I be the one removing it?”

“I am not allowed to do it myself. I can have someone remove it, with Melissa’s express permission, when she is not present to do it herself. She instructed me to have you remove it when she told me to start preparing you for your collaring.”

Once Sandy’s lock was removed, she took me to the bathroom where I was shaved again to insure there would be no stubble. I was surprised by the size of their shower. It was probably eight feet square, with a large overhead “European” style head in the center. Sandy took her time washing my body first with a pouf. Next, she stood behind me and washed my back using only her hands and liquid soap. It felt great having her slippery hands caress my skin, especially when she pressed herself against my back and reached around me to do my front. I moaned when she reached between my legs and slowly worked on my pussy lips, each receiving individual attention. Finally, she washed my hair. I wasn’t permitted to do anything.

She dried herself and then dried me. I had to replace her lock, after which she led me to a massage table in another room. There she spent more than an hour working scented oil into every square inch of my skin from the neck down. My breasts and pussy received special attention, of course. She even apologized when she said that she was not permitted to let me orgasm. Overall, I felt like a queen and was reminded of the massage that Sam had given me. When I commented on her expertise, she said that Melissa had paid for her to attend massage therapy school. She gave Melissa massages several times a week. I mentioned that Sam used to give Mistress Kelly massages, but I had a feeling I would be doing it in the near future.

Sandy left me alone for a few moments and returned holding something in her hand. “It has become a tradition in the Society for the preparation slave to give the newbie a small gift. This was the first birthday present Melissa ever gave me and is one of my favorite items of nipple jewelry. When I commented that I couldn’t possibly accept something that she must cherish a lot, she said, “You don’t understand. The gift must be a personal item that has great sentimental value to the slave. The gift is meant to be something that binds the two together as lifelong friends and sisters. Besides, I really want you to have it.”

The jewelry consisted of two small circles shaped like handcuffs that were meant to be slipped over one’s nipples. These were connected by a chain shaped like the chain one would find on a pair of handcuffs, only longer.

She removed my captive ball rings and worked the ‘handcuffs’ over my hard buds. I was permitted to stand and look at my new jewelry in the mirror “They look beautiful, Sandy. Thank you.”

“You need something to insure they stay on in case your nipples soften. The captive ball rings will work, but I recommend something else. She opened her jewelry chest and held up two bar bells. “They will look better than the rings. I watched as she slipped them through my nipple piercings. They held the cuffs in place in the same manner that bar bells held the nipple shields on. The next thing I knew she was kissing me deeply and passionately. When we finally broke, she said, “I wish we could do more, but our Mistresses wouldn’t permit it.” Just then we heard the garage door opening. “Wow, our timing was perfect. There’s Mistress Melissa.”

Melissa said we should help her dress after her shower. Normally Sandy would bathe her as she did me, but Melissa told her to keep me company instead. She then called us to the bedroom when she was ready. We dressed her in gemlik escort lacy lingerie, lace top thigh highs, a white blouse, leather skirt and suede booties. Sandy was ordered to dress next. I stayed with her and watched while she put on a Polo top, a short skirt and penny loafers. Still naked I followed her to their den where Melissa was waiting. Following her instructions, we both knelt in front of her.

“Kimmy,” she began, “part of your preparation is to inform you about some of the rules the governing board and members of the society adopted when we started to expand. I am sure Kelly has discussed most of the society rules with you. Most of what I say now will be new, however, because it wasn’t necessary for you to know these details before you agreed to be Kelly’s permanent slave.

“The society was originally organized by a small group of women who were interested in BDSM. At the beginning, it was, more or less, a discussion and sharing group. As we matured, we discovered, through the internet and otherwise, that, as a whole, people involved in the scene were representative of society. Some were pillars and a few were, for lack of a better word, ‘trash.” In case you don’t know it, some dominants have no consideration for their subs. They inflict pain for the sake of pain and even draw blood, or worse. That is really an illegal relationship. It is pure and simple abuse. We decided to limit the membership of our group and go to extremes to insure each and every Mistress will be kind and loving towards her sub. When joining, each member pledges to be extremely protective of those in our care, and to do nothing that would permanently harm them.

“I am sure you realize that no matter how careful we might be, there is always the possibility an undesirable person could become a member, or a relationship could turn sour. This can be seen happening in the highest professions. A relationship souring is one reason you are permitted to consult with us to break a compact. Therefore, a very important thing we do is assign someone to be a “sister” to a new sub. This person is to be a contact whether her ‘sister’ just needs someone to talk to or needs help with a Mistress who might be losing control. Every member has pledged not to interfere with this right of a sub to contact her sister at any time. In fact, we encourage subs to contact her ‘sister’ every day in some manner, to simply say hello, if nothing else. If contact is not made for two consecutive days, the ‘sister’ will inform her Mistress who then will visit the sub to insure everything is OK. She must physically see and talk to the sub, and not in the presence of her own Mistress. This may seem unnecessary, but the members unanimously reconfirm this protection point annually. We believe in it so much that we insist that each of our subs give her ‘sister’ a secret code word or phrase that she can use to indicate everything might not be OK. That way, if I were with Sandy during her daily call to her sister, I would not know she is asking for help. I won’t even know the code word you will give Sandra.

“I know you would like Samantha could be your ‘sister,’ but Allyson and Kelly discussed that possibility and decided that it should be someone who isn’t as personally close to Kelly. Don’t worry, they decided that we will let you confide in Sam, too, but you must still maintain daily contact with Sandra.”

“A secondary reason for Sandra being designated as your ‘sister’ is because you can easily contact her while at work. And, just for the record, you have permission to talk directly with me in an emergency, even though I indicated that we would not refer to our D/s roles while at the office.

“Another strict requirement of our society is to ensure that you have not been coerced into being or remaining as Kelly’s sub. I need a positive affirmation from you without Kelly being present.

“I do want that, ma’am, and have made this decision on my own. In fact, I know of nothing else I want in my life right now.”

“Excellent, my dear. We can leave as soon as Sandy finishes dressing you.”

Sandy left the room and soon returned with a bondage belt and wrist cuffs. The belt was locked around my waist. A strap, attached to the back of the belt. was pulled through my legs and slipped into a buckle attached to the front of the belt and pulled tight into my crotch. I put all my clothes back on, except for the bra. Sandra locked the cuffs around my wrists and to D-ring at the sides of the belt. From a distance, I would look fully clothed. With the preparations finished, we headed to the garage. I realized that I was not wearing a collar, my submissive status symbol. Sandy was wearing hers. I was still wearing my chain collar, but it wasn’t the same as my full, leather collar. It felt strange being in bondage and not wearing mine.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Dear reader,

One comment that keeps coming up is that I switch so often suddenly between past and present. That has a reason. As my mind is sometimes playing tricks with me, giving me flashbacks all of a sudden, and because I think it is not a unique thing, I thought it would be more realistic to write it this way.

Well, that said:

Enjoy!

D.

–

16 In a shed

While you read this part of the story, listen to the album:

Clandestino by Manu Chao

“After about two months,” she went on, “it must have been early June in the afternoon, we left on Pablo’s bike to do a little roadtrip. We had stopped along the side of the road in a rural area and were enjoying the sun. There was a lot of traffic on the road and we laid against a slope. He was kissing me passionately and his hands were restlessly exploring my body. Both Pablo and I had had no significant sexual experience. He wanted to, but he didn’t dare ask me. And I wasn’t really ready for it yet. So it stayed with kissing and feeling a bit.

Suddenly he stopped kissing me. He leaned on his elbows and asked: “Juanita, do you want to pose for me?”

Of course I said yes. Posing was always a challenge. He often knew exactly what he wanted and I tried to follow his instructions as well as possible.”

Juanita looked at me: “You know what I mean, Dito. A leg a little more forward, an arm a little more bent, your head a little tilted. Those kind of things. I thought it was an honor if he indicated that I was doing it perfectly. Then I felt great and very proud.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that, Juanita, would you really like to pose for me.”

I looked at him not quite understanding what he implied.

“That’s what I said.” I parried. What he had meant to ask was if I was ready to take more daring pictures. I looked at the road and then at him. His face looked serious and I hesitated a bit before answering:

“As long as you don’t ask me to pose naked.”

He shook his head. No, that was not his intention, but I always wore those oversized jerseys with jeans that he often felt that he was photographing clothing and not me. The pictures he had taken of me by the sea had made him think. He said he thought I was at my best at the time: in my bathing suit. Now he wanted me to put on a blouse and a skirt.

“But, but I never wear that kind of clothes. I don’t feel good about that,” I replied, in the meantime pulling my slumber shirt tightly.

“Would you like to give it a try? I want to see if I can take other photos of you. Whether I can make you another Juanita. “

I indicated reluctantly that we could try if I only had such clothes. He said nothing but got up, went to the motorbike and took a white plastic bag from one of the side cases.

“I was forward and bought you something. I would like you to put it on,” he said as he pressed the bag into my hands.

“Behind the slope there is a farmer’s shed. You can change there.”

I said A before, so I might as well say B now. I stood up and walked up the slope. On top I saw a shed just some twenty yards from the dyke. The door hung half out of the hinges. I walked towards it and carefully opened it. It squeaked.

The shed smelled musty and it was filled with cobwebs. I scanned the inside, there was not much in it: some rusty tools, a scythe and a metal jerry can. There was also a stool with three legs and a chair without a seat. The light of the sun fell through a window.

“Well there we go” I addressed myself. “Hoping for the best.”

I opened the plastic bag and took out a black skirt and a red blouse with silver buttons on the front. It looked nice. Not what I would buy myself, but certainly not something that I would not wear, I thought to myself.

“Where shall I put this?” I looked around for a suitable spot, but everything was covered with dust. So I put the plastic bag over the stool and laid the skirt and blouse on it.

I pulled my shirt over my head and stood there in my bra, loosening the button of my jeans, when I saw a shadow go past the window.

“Hey Pablo, stay outside, okay?”

I heard some stumbling after which his voice at the door said: “Take off your bra please Juanita. It will shine through the red fabric of the blouse. And that looks strange on the photo.”

For a moment I hesitated. Would I dare? I looked at the blouse that lay on the stool in the sun. Well, Pablo would know. Before I took off my bra I first looked through the window, but there was nobody to be seen. As a precaution, I turned my back to the window and released the hook.

Did I hear something? I pricked my ears, with the bra in my hands, but it remained silent. I quickly grabbed the blouse.

Shit, all the buttons were closed. While I was fiddling with the buttons I carefully watched the window. Finally I got them all loose. I shot into the blouse and hurried to close the buttons.

Now my jeans! I kicked my legs and suddenly realized that it wouldn’t ever go over bursa escort bayan my sneakers. I bent down to loosen my shoelaces.

Did I hear anything there? I got up. The window offered the same view as before. I took the skirt from the stool, sat down and pulled off my sneakers. With the skirt in one hand, I tried to get my pants over my feet with the other. It did not work. So I stood up and with one foot on the trouser leg, while lifting my leg, I got the pants off.

The light in the shed changed and I looked at the door where Pablo was standing with his camera. “Are you ready?”

I stood there. In the brand new red blouse that barely covered my panties. I still held the skirt in my hand and my face was red with effort.

“Wait Pablo, I’ll be right there.” I looked at him anxiously. Apparently this had been a signal for him.

He quickly brought the camera to his face and pushed the button.

“No, no, don’t, not like that.” While I held the skirt in front of my face, it clicked again.

“In this light, Juanita, you look like an angel. I had to take a photo of you right now.”

“But, but I’m in my underpants. Go away!”

Pablo looked at my bare legs and then up as if he just noticed for the first time that I was only wearing a blouse. He grinned, but he wasn’t about to leave.

“All the better. Wait a second!” I wanted to put on the skirt, but he came forward and stopped my hand.

“Wait a second!!” It suddenly sounded like an order. “Don’t put on that skirt yet.”

He took the skirt from my hand and put it over the chair. I felt nailed to the ground and he stepped back.

“Stay that way. No, put a hand against the window frame. Now look outside through the window as if you see something indescribable in the clouds.”

He had the camera in front of his eyes again and continued to give me instructions. I heard the click of the camera but remained focused on his voice. I did what he asked of me. He kicked the stool toward me and told me to put one leg on the stool.

“No, Nita, your back leg. Yes, that’s how you do it right. Now put your elbow on that leg and put your head in your hand, but keep looking outside. “

Click, click, click. The camera kept clicking.

“Great, this will be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever made.”

Juanita looked at me. “Well, I didn’t wear the skirt that afternoon.”

“Didn’t he try anything else?”

She had made me curious. Such a boy who didn’t try to be in her pants right away, what kind of a boy was that?

“No, no Dito, he wasn’t like that, well, I didn’t really get it either.”

She looked at me and whispered: “Much later I understood why he wasn’t trying anything.”

She shook her head as if to remove the memory from her mind.

“What do you mean by much later you understood? What had happened?”

She cleared her throat, played a little with the spoon in the sauce, and lowered her head slightly so that her locks fell before her face. She looked at me from under a lock of hair and looked for something. I had been looking at her encouragingly all the time. She found my eyes and put hers down.

“I don’t know if … …” she stopped, unable to finish her sentence. I sat still, the tension was palpable. Again she shook her head, but now more as if she had made up her mind.

“What I am going to tell you now must stay between us. I only tell you because I think you will understand.” I saw her eyes scanning the wall behind me.

I nodded “Of course dear, everything that is shared here remains between us.”

And to dispel any doubts, I said: “There is no other person with whom I would want to and can share it.” For a moment she let her eyes touch mine and I saw doubt again. Did I say too much?

–

17 In a grip

While you read this part of the story, listen to the album:

A hundred million suns by Snow Patrol

“Three weeks after he took the photos in the shed …” Juanita suddenly continued “… Pablo came with a gift. Unwrapped, it turned out to be a book. On the black linen cover was only my name in silver letters. It was held shut with a black velvet ribbon.

I loosened the ribbon and wanted to open it when Pablo put his hand on the cover.

“Juanita, this is your album. I made it especially for you and you should know that I did it with the greatest respect for you. So please don’t be mad at me.”

I had looked at him in surprise, why should I get mad at him. He had never given me a reason to be angry.

He slowly took his hand off the cover so that I could open the book. The matting sheets were also black. On the cover page there was only my name in silver and in the small part at the bottom of the page it said June ’08.

When I turned the cover, I was confronted with a portrait of me. A portrait that he had magnified. I looked straight into the camera and only my eyes could be seen. I remembered he took that photo a while ago when we görükle escort were in town.

“Oh how beautiful. I can hardly believe this is me,” I said, looking at him admiringly. He stood looking at me with a serious face and bit his lip. I looked at the album again.

The following photo was a silhouette of me on the beach as I watched the sunset. The sun was right behind my face and made my hair shine like a halo. I was stupefied.

The following photo was also taken on the beach. Another silhouette, where I stood in the sea to my knees and shook the water from my hair, while the sun sank into the sea halfway.

I flipped the page and saw myself standing in front of the window of the shed while I looked outside with my hand on the window frame. It was a half portrait, the bottom of the red blouse was not visible. The swirling dust gave a shimmer in the sun beams, suggesting a soft focus idea. Wow, I had only seen such photos in magazines. And here I stood and someone I knew had taken such a picture. The last words of Pablo lingered in my head. How could I ever be mad at that boy? I turned the page.

A portrait full face, my hair fell for the most part over my face and bare shoulder, the collar of the blouse was just visible. I had held it anxiously so that it would not sink over my breasts.

Because of this I had accentuated them, and because I was not wearing a bra, there was also a slight curve where my nipple was covered by the cloth. There was a trace of sweat on my shoulder that ran into the blouse. It had been hot and I had probably perspired. Here too dust and sunlight played an essential role in creating an erotic atmosphere. I got hot, just looking at myself.

Again I turned the page. I saw my bare legs all over the page. One leg almost straight and the back with my bare foot on the stool. Sunlight flooded between the space where the blouse fell open on my white panties which reflected. “What the fuck!” I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut. Don’t get angry now, it’s not too bad. It was a beautiful artistic photo and it could have been anyone’s legs. BUT IT WAS MINE! Why did he do that? I looked at him and the tension was visible on his face. As if nothing was wrong, I looked at the picture again. Dust, sunlight and naked skin, it was a beautiful pic.

“Nice” I said as naturally as possible, but my voice was trembling.

He suddenly put his hand over mine. “I think that’s enough for today.”

I looked up in surprise. “But, but I want to see the rest …”

“Enough!” He ripped the album from my hands and put the bow back on.

“Pablo, isn’t it my album? Let me see those photos. What else have you done? Give it back!” I wanted to take the album out of his hand, but he pushed my hand away.

“No, not now Nita. Not until you are ready.”

“Why am I not ready now? What are you hiding? Did you secretly take photos of me?”

He changed color and I took the opportunity to get the album back again. Somehow I had to laugh at his embarrassment. He had taken those photos anyway. And if he had secretly done that, I would have been curious about what he had photographed.

“Nita, please, don’t be mad at me.” He sank on the couch next to me and held his hands to his face.

I loosened the bow again. I needed to know what other photos he had taken and opened the album. It fell open on a page I had not yet seen.

A dusty window and behind it was me, half in the sunlight, my head bowed, in my bra, concentrating on loosening the button of my jeans. He had made it from outside when I heard something, I suspected.

The next page. A photo in which I was lying on a towel on the beach in my bathing suit. My eyes were closed. Was I asleep? At least I couldn’t remember that he had made it. At first glance it looked like an ordinary photo, until I saw what the focus was on. My nipples protruded straight through the fabric and cast two small but indisputable shadows on my bathing suit.

I flipped the page. A cut-out of my thigh with the edge of my bathing suit as a dome over it.

A photo of me in a white shirt, with the light shining through the fabric, showing the contours of my upper body.

Another photo of my bathing suit and upper thigh, now more from the front. A few hairs were visible on the edge of my bathing suit.

A photo of the barn door, Noooo, that couldn’t be true. In the light of the window I stood pontifically, without a bra, about two meters behind the narrow opening of the door. I got hot.

After that another one, but now I was fiddling with the buttons of the blouse to get them loose so that I could put it on while the sunlight showed my right breast in full glory.

Slowly I closed the album and looked at Pablo. He still had his hands over his face. Because I didn’t say anything, he looked up.

“They are photographed very nicely.” I whispered. I was unable to say that they had excited me.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” He bursa escort bayan looked at me hesitantly.

“Of course I am angry with you, photographing me without my knowledge. Especially those on the beach. Was I sleeping there?”

He nodded. “But what about the others? The one in the shed? Didn’t you find it worse?”

I shook my head. “The only thing I thought was that I didn’t know anything about it. And I think that if you had asked me, I certainly would have said no, but they have become so beautiful that I doubt that if I had said yes, and I would have posed, they would have become this beautiful.”

He raised his shoulders. “I think so, you are a beautiful model and you follow my orders well.”

He looked at his hands and spoke softly: “We could try. I can take better pictures of you, I know that for sure, but then you would have to trust me completely. Do you dare?”

His eyes focused on mine and he waited in silence for me to respond.

I said nothing but opened the album again. The dusty window with me in a bra busy loosening my button from my jeans.

Oh, here’s a new one: made through the doorway but closer. And I only saw my bare legs, the red fabric of my blouse and the white of my panties, which reflected the sunlight while I was loosening my laces. My butt was so high in the air that it almost looked like there was only a lower body. Because the sunlight that came through the window fell on my butt and my white slip, the background was dark. It was a beautiful and exciting photo. I observed Pablo, next to me, looking at the photo and licking his lips. So it excited him too.

She wanted to take another sip of beer but her bottle was empty. Then she looked at her hand, my fingers over it. She looked at me.

For a moment longer I held her hand in mine and then stood up. “I’ll just get two beers, or do you want something else?”

She looked at her watch. “Ooowww, it’s almost five o’clock. I have to go get Tomàs from my babysitter.”

I apparently looked disappointed.

“I can also ask her if he can sleep at her place tonight.” She said to herself and then to me: “May I continue to talk to you tonight?”

She turned to me expectantly.

“Please. Juanita your story intrigues me. I will take you home now, you will make sure you get your things straightened so that you can tell me how this story continued. But let’s make a deal: I will come and pick you up and bring you back home, understood?”

I turned around without waiting for her reaction and shouted as I walked to the kitchen: “Chittie, I ‘m gonna prepare the bill, we have to go.”

Xochitl was already halfway out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron “But Doña Delgado, I was counting on you to stay for a nice dinner.”

I quickly gave her a kiss. “Very sweet of you Chittie, I will come to you very soon and I will probably bring Juanita with me. Now we have other plans,” I whispered in her ear.

She nodded and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Will she be your …”

I put my finger on her mouth. “Too soon, Chittie, too early to say anything about that.”

I winked at her.

–

18 In anticipation

While you read this part of the story, listen to the album:

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida by Iron Butterfly

She didn’t want me to come and get her, so I was waiting now. Chittie had given me a doggy bag and had added some tortillas and sauce extra. That would come in handy for you tonight, she had said. After that Juanita stepped into my Starlet and we drove to her house. She lived in an apartment complex somewhere in the poor part on the outskirts of the city. I was glad that I could get away quickly. This was not part of my life, I thought as I was driving out of town.

When I got home I had dived into the kitchen and had put the tortillas and sauces in the fridge and checked if there was enough of chilled white wine. After that I prepared plates, cutlery and glasses on a tray, so that I could later take that to the library. Because that’s where we were going to spend the evening. It had become my living room for the last thirty years, occasionally my bedroom and my dining room. However, there was one thing that I had never done so far. I had never admitted anyone else.

Why Juanita now? I walked out of the kitchen and into the library. On the cabinet next to the door I turned on the light, while I let my hand go over the back of the female body, the key tingling against her ass for a moment. Then I walked behind the door and also turned on the second light. For a moment I felt whether the keys were still hanging there. In the doorway I turned around and checked if everything was ready for tonight.

I walked back into the room one more time to the desk to turn on the desk lamp and then left the library. I went up the stairs and walked to my bedroom, loosening my blouse.

What should I wear tonight? I stood in front of my wardrobe … and in the meantime the thought was haunting me: Why Juanita now?

I had no suitable answer. There was no logic in it. It was a kind of feeling. It was as if the library had been waiting for her all this time. As if this library was there especially for her. As if all those literary treasures were not meant for me but for her.

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Cassie climbed the gallows stairs slowly. She knew they could not start the hanging without her, and she figured the slower she climbed, the more time she would live.

She was guilty. She had killed that son-of-a-bitch. There was no doubt about it. And now she would die, but damn it, it was worth it.

The platform at the top was much smaller than she expected. It was pretty tight up there, with the preacher – somebody shut that guy up! – the hangman, the judge, and her. Oh, and the sandbag. The sandbag to be tied around her ankles to provide the extra weight needed to break her neck as she fell the 10 feet after the trap door was released. The State of Kansas had carefully calculated the amount of additional mass needed to break her neck when she fell that distance. The result would be immediate death. Well, at least she wouldn’t suffer for too long.

She was guilty alright. Cassie was a widow, the result of a raid by the northern soldiers on Bleeding Kansas during the war. The fucking war. Her marriage had been a relatively happy one, given the conditions – living in a sod house on the prairie. The dust, the constant flies in the summer, the incredibly cold winters, childbirth, trying to scrape crops out of the soil – did I mention the winters? – had put incredible stress on two people in an arranged marriage. But Hiram had been a good man, and she had grown to appreciate him, even love him.

The raiders took both him and her son in one night. Not to mention the atrocity they imposed on her. How many of them that night- she lost track. And though the townspeople that remained after the raid were kind to her, the trauma of that night, that long night, would never go away. Cassie knew the slightest touch of a man would be painful for the remainder of her life. Which was growing shorter by the minute.

But Cassie was a loving orhangazi escort person, who sought the company of others when she could. She was very good with her numbers, and had found that ability to be useful to the shopkeepers, the bankers, and the farmers to track their earnings. Cassie made a good living at that, and was able to live comfortably.

She enjoyed the company of other women – they were so gentle with her. And when the new couple moved to town, she couldn’t help but appreciate the woman’s beauty.

Emma Harris was a proper Englishwoman, raised in London, but who came to Kansas with her husband. They came not to raise crops, but cattle, part of a new movement in Kansas. Theirs was an arranged marriage too, but not as happy as Cassie’s.

Cassie and Emma were attracted to each other from the first sight. Two bright, intelligent women, traumatized by men – Cassie through the actions of the raiders, Emma by an abusive husband. They found solace and comfort in each others arms, in the smells and feel and tastes of each others’ bodies. They would spend hours nibbling, and teasing, and licking each other, paying attention to those ‘special’ areas that men knew, or cared, so little about except for their own pleasures.

They both knew their liaisons would result in banishment by the townspeople if they became public, but they were smart enough to hide them. Two women spending the night together while one’s husband was away on business drew little attention, and Emma’s husband was away conducting ‘business’ a lot. She knew he was visiting the whorehouses in Kansas City, but his time away was time away from the beatings, and time she could spend with Cassie.

But his times at home were pure hell for her. He beat her in places where it would not show, hidden by the dresses he made her wear nilüfer escort even in the summer heat. They were childless, not because of her lack of fertility, but because he insisted on using her in ways her body was not intended. Only Cassie knew the story, saw the cuts and bruises, and understood the pain.

Cassie’s hatred of him grew with each bruise, with each cut, and with each anal penetration. Until the night she could hear the screams from outside the house, and she could hold her hatred no longer. Cassie had learned to shoot as a girl, and the shots into his body were surprisingly easy. Cassie pumped shot after shot after shot, reloaded, and pumped six more into him. She was not only protecting her friend, her lover, but revenging years of trauma and depression. It felt so good.

The trial was a joke. A ‘jury of her peers’ (twelve men, six of whom were Harris’ business partners) found her guilty of cold-blooded murder, and sentenced her to hang by her neck until dead. It had been a long time since the State of Kansas had sentenced a woman to death, and the event was promising to turn into a spectacle. Cassie wasn’t eager to be the focus of so much attention.

The preacher finally stopped preaching – didn’t he have anything better to do? Cassie stood next to the hangman; she could smell the fear on him. He had never hung a woman before, and was nervous about doing it. She had asked him not to touch her, or as little as possible, and he was more than willing to comply. He wanted less to do with this than she did, and felt that killing a woman was pavement on his road to hell.

Cassie refused the blindfold. She wanted the gawkers to see her eyes bulge out, to see the horror of death. Maybe that would inspire one person from imposing a death sentence in some future trial. She wanted to leave behind türbanlı escort just one more message.

The hangman put the rope around her neck and tied the carefully calculated sandbag around her ankles. The judge read the sentence and asked for last words. Strangely at a loss for words, Cassie told him to perform an anatomically impossible act on himself.

The time came, the hangman tripped the trap door. Cassie fell, the feeling of weightlessness coming over her. Like flying – flying to my death, she flashed. It was only 10 feet, but the flight seemed to take forever, falling, falling. Cassie’s stomach felt like it rose into her mouth. She felt the bile in her throat, the weightlessness. In that fraction of a second, Cassie’s mind raced, trying to live another lifetime before death.

And then it happened. The State of Kansas had carefully calculated the weight of the sandbag, but failed to provide an appropriate rope. The hangman had noticed the wear on the rope, but had secretly hoped it would not stand the strain. Killing a woman was not something he relished. The rope had broke!!

Cassie fell. The sandbag hit the ground first, and she landed on it, breaking her fall. The loose bindings on her hands fell away (who would think a woman would be much trouble even if she got loose?) and she reached down to untie her legs. And she ran, ran towards the refuge she knew in Emma’s arms. She yearned for her touch, to feel her tongue licking her breasts, in her vagina, her breath on her shoulders. Cassie ran under the heat of the summer sun.

Down the dusty street she ran. To the house that Emma had shared with that bastard who did those things to her. Past the lilacs, the sweet smelling lilacs that Emma pruned so carefully. Past the short picket fence that Emma had whitewashed. Emma ran tot the porch, arms open, caring not for the castigating townfolk. Her Cassie was home, and all would be well, Cassie ran up the walk, bounded onto the stairs, and…..

The rope, carefully calculated by the State of Kansas to withstand the strain of Cassie’s weight and the sandbag, snapped Cassie’s neck, killing her instantly.

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He was as white as snow, his skin was pale and freckles from the stars on his face he never looked back from where he came from. In his opinion he was the drifter and I was the cinnamon girl. When he first caught my eye he paid me attention that no other did for I was mysterious and rebellious. I had only one wish…. Help me escape. A chopper over 9 ft. in length and it was a Honda 750. You could tell it was fabricated with much thought and tender care, the engine had to be wrapped into the frame just as I wanted. He looked at me and smiled but in his gray blue eyes all I saw was sex. I couldn’t help but fathom what those deep dark eyes were holding back.

I received a gift. As I walked barefooted through the park he arrived mysteriously and with my fave…a bottle of Cuervo Gold in his saddlebag. I immediately straddled his seat and asked no questions as to where we were going, as I was intrigued. Sexually intrigued in what he saw in me and what I saw in him. When he stopped the bike straddling that hot engine and allowed me to dismount I looked at him and shyly took the bottle he gifted me with. I wrapped my lips around it sucking the succulence from the rim and made no frown to its taste and I saw, he wanted me. I walked away with my bare feet touching the asphalt not questioning the whereabouts. I wanted him.

As he asked if I felt safe I looked into his eyes and responded with open eyes onwingiris.biz as well as open legs. One touch is all I wanted. One sly move of the hand to just whisper to me SEX. He stood in front of me with his Levi’s jeans and leather chaps tenderly wrapping his thick muscular legs. A shirt so black and tight you could see his pecks bulging as well as his groin. I wondered how he breathed. Hair as dusty blonde as the pubes I imagined him with I could not resist. I began to remove my coverall shorts as tight as they were in the broad daylight where we stood. The heat showed my softened dollar shaped nipples and he stared and squinted at the sight of them. I knew it was right. I peeled my tight coveralls as short as they were in length popping my voluptuous ass to the hot air and I could swear by the look in his eyes as I tilted my head back towards him he was mine.

I rubbed my round sweaty ass against his rod hidden behind those jeans and begged for affection, lust, fucking! He grabbed my hips and pushed his now hardening dick against my jiggling ass as I began to cream. When I turned to look at him as he straddled me from behind I could see my come glistening where my pussy rubbed against his jeans. And once again he was twice as hard. I couldn’t help but be fascinated with how fast I was able to arouse such a man, such a mound and I felt my pussy twitch; Twice. He tore my g-string that hugged my legs from my body and I felt no pain only desire. He lifted me off my feet and sat me onto his rice burner chopper, custom made. Slowly sucking my nipples as I straddled his bike he laid my back onto the mustang tank his bike bared. I could feel the cold steel chill my back and my nipples erected as well as his penis as it protruded from his jeans noticing the chaps hugging and squeezing his balls. What a stallion, what a man. He revealed his manhood, hard as rock and a head as big and pink as I could only hope for. And a little tear of come began to sneak down that lovely dick of his and I rushed to catch it. Pleased to the taste saliva dripped from my mouth and in an effort to save it he suddenly pushed his dick back into my mouth. Chills filled my pussy; I wanted to feel his wand, his long wide pink dick inside of me. I rubbed my snatch up and down his shaft as he straddled the bike getting closer and closer to my pussy. Soon his dick was dripping of come from both him and me and we were panting and staring into each others eyes as he pulled me close by my legs. The bike wobbled but I held tight feeling his protruding head touch the mouth of my pussy. I motioned with my snatch thrusting it forward wanting it and needing it as he teased me withholding penetration and then he shoved it into my snatch wet with come and I gasped and yelled. What a beautiful mound, what a beautiful mount. I arched my back as he pulled it slowly out letting me feel the whole length and every shape form and size. I could only feel my juices being plunged from my body and my come slowly slid down the hole of my ass, warm, thick and juicy.

For an hour he slowly massaged my sugar walls and my juices flowed for the duration until his balls were coated of what was all me! He stood and wrapped his arms around my legs pulling me towards him getting in deeper. We were both drenched in sweat and you could smell sex in the air. Deeper he plunged and louder I screamed. It brought out the animals in both of us and I could feel a sensation of wanting to urinate.

I loved it but cautioned him that I might pee and he began yelling to me, “Do it! Piss all over my balls”! Thrusting into my vagina and delicately fucking me it was like poetry and I began to squirt juices everywhere and had an orgasm I had never felt before in my life. Screaming like a banshee, in extreme passion I opened my eyes to see he too was coming and his face began to drip of the come I gushed. I felt his dick harden and erect even further into my cave and I tightened around the head of his dick, I could swear it turned and twined. I felt his orgasm. Immediately he withdrew and I felt my face sprinkled with come, into my mouth, tasting it with sweat and tears as I was blessed with his white water.

Drifter announced the fascination of the “G” Spot to my 23-year-old mind and I was in awe. I wonder what ever happened to that bike! Hee Hee

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“Hi,”

“For Morgan?”

“That’s me!”

I threw my purse into the back seat of my Uber, before shuffling my body in behind it. After a long day at work I was ready to sit in the refreshing AC and stare out the window for what I’m sure would be a long ride back home in heavy Los Angeles congestion. My regular afternoon meditation if you will.

I had lived in Los Angeles for about a year now, and with a fear of driving, the back seat of various Ubers was almost my second home. Being the money conscious mid-20-year-old, I was this was often an Uber pool, the discounted service that meant sometimes sharing a car. I was no stranger to a quick zip home taking way longer than expected because we had to detour off to pick up another Los Angelino on their way to god knows where, but I never could have expected what happened on this particular trip home.

After about 15 minutes of zoning out, I heard the dreaded charm of any Uber pool passenger echoing from the driver’s phone, another rider.

Damn it!

We were suddenly veering off course, in the direction of whoever Mel was.

Ugh, I hope she is going somewhere close, I thought before getting back to listlessly looking out the window.

Suddenly the door opened, and someone was getting in to the car. I politely looked up to let her know I was sitting here and she would need to go to the other side but I quickly noticed that all the doors where opening and three women were hopping into the car with me from all angles.

Oh.

For some reason I didn’t fight or even mutter much of anything, in the shuffle of it all I moved into the middle seat, sandwiched between strangers, while the driver looked on confused.

“Uhm, ladies…you selected UberPool…that means only two riders?”

The passenger in the front seat apologized for their mistake and asked if he could just take them all, just this once. They were friendly enough, so he obliged and turned off the pool function within the app. Something told me these charming, attractive women tried this trick a lot.

The driver pulled away from the curb and I awkwardly sat between these two women, trying to make myself as small as possible in an attempt to become invisible to the chattering friends. In an attempt to resume my window watching I turned my head and caught a glimpse of the woman directly to my left.

A beautiful Latina, with impeccable skin, bold freckles and the most perfect lips. I couldn’t help but let my eyes fall to her breasts, perfectly caramel and rounded at the top of her body suit. A sudden tingle made me pause.

I had never had an experience with a woman, hell, I had very few with a man either. I never felt any major attraction to women, and all of my “crushes” had always been male. Yet, when I opened any adult movie, the only thing I wanted to see was two women making each other tremble.

I snapped my eye quickly away from my neighbor, suddenly aware of our arms touching and tried to stare out of the other window. To my right was the complete opposite of what I had witness of my other Uber mate. Although both Latinas, behind door number 2 was a small yet much more masculine woman, in a band t-shirt, baggier jeans and a backwards snap back. If the lady on my left was a curvy goddess, to my right was more boyishly handsome.

She was the kind of woman who made the straightest of women question their sexuality. Just masculine enough to fill whatever desire we had to be “typical”, but with a feminine sensuality that felt more kind and nurturing than you could find in a man.

Suddenly I became hyper aware of myself.

Two polar opposite, yet alluring women, and me sandwiched in the middle. I crossed my arms tighter in an effort to disrupt there space less and tried to not focus on our thighs all running together.

The final passenger in the front was no slouch either, although maybe less dreamy than her backseat pals, she threw me a smile that felt like it should have accompanied a cheeky laugh before twirling herself around to drum up a conversation with the driver.

“You smell really good.”

For some reason I did that dumb thing where you hear someone perfectly, yet need more time to think of an answer so your only response is a friendly I’m sorry, what was that?

“You smell really good.”

The more androgynous beauty to my right repeated, before leaning escort bayan in towards my neck to truly get a smell of my scent.

I was taken aback. In what situation was this appropriate? Going up and burying your face in the neck of a perfect stranger?

I probably should have been more uncomfortable by this. I should have pushed her back and reprimanded her for being so creepy and making a stranger uncomfortable. But there was something about her skin being so close to me, her lips brushing my sensitive neck that sent a warmth down between my legs.

No moment in my life has made me want to instinctively whimper before. Yet this stranger invading my space, somehow made me instantly crave her.

She pulled her head back and smiled at me, her masculine image completely cracked by the most adorable, mischievous grin. She had the nonthreatening energy of a sexually confident flirt, like someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

“Thank you…” I responded meekly, wanting to brush past this moment before it became awkward.

“I’m sorry to be so forward, what is that perfume! I actually can’t get enough…” She said with a laugh before moving her head in one more time, this time her lips definitely brushed my skin. I felt a brush of moisture and could have sworn her deep breath to inhale my scent was also a ruse to suckle at the sensitive skin on my neck.

I was flustered.

Was this girl sucking my soul out? What was happening? It was the helpless fluster of being truly uncomfortable but for some reason I wasn’t pushing this woman away, I want to bury her closer.

“Ugh…I think it’s called Jazz Club…” I said with a chuckle, trying to keep the moment light.

“The scents probably a little strong since I use the lotion and the perfume.”

With the mention of lotion suddenly her hard was running the length of my arm from fingertip up across my collar bone and to the side of my neck to push me further against her lips.

Why wasn’t I asking her to stop? Why did I never want her to stop touching me? What was happening?

I looked over at the driver who was chatting away to the distraction in the front seat, as we sat in heavy 405 traffic.

I looked at the breathtaking beauty to my left who looked me dead in the eye and smirked like she knew exactly what I was thinking. It took every single ounce of strength for me not to lean towards her glossy mouth.

What the fuck?

I am not one to kiss strangers, especially not woman!

I was snapped out of my trance by a hand just above my knee that made me snap my head over to the perfume fanatic.

“I’m Mel.” She said with a chuckle when we made eye contact.

“Is this making you uncomfortable? I can stop.” She said with a sudden sincerity that seemed out of character from the almost aggressive hunger I felt before. The odd thing is, I fully believed her. Maybe that’s why I didn’t push her away, because I felt she was genuine in her question, and before I could really process her question my head was shaking left to right.

“Don’t”

Suddenly that smirk was back, and like drop of blood to a hungry shark she was back to devour me.

She lifted each of my legs, placing one in the middle of her own and the other in the middle of her beautiful friend, Tiffany, I would come to learn.

Suddenly I went from making myself as small as possible to having my legs spread across the back seat.

As Mel ran her suckling lips along my collarbone and chest, she took her time. Whilst still fully clothed I felt more turned on and sexual than I had in years of nakedness. Her hands held my sides in the softest of ways, more like wind across grass, causing the hair on my body to stand to attention.

The force of her mouth drinking in my skin pushed me sideways into Tiffany, her perfect bosom against my shoulder blade causing me to actually moan in anticipation. She leans down towards my ear to attach her teeth to my earlobe,

“Hey…” She whispered as if we were old friends greeting each other in a store. She laughed at herself before I turned my head up towards her jawline and her lips were on mine.

I had never kissed a woman before.

For such an erotic moment, her kiss was tender. Her tongue felt like it slid against mine in slow motion. She moaned low and slow against me and I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming bursa vip escort or living in the most vivid reality.

I felt air against my nipples, which had been exposed to the world and were now wet with Mel’s saliva and getting colder with each moment in the AC. I turned my head around, Tiffany’s tongue never leaving my face as she ran it along my cheek back to my earlobe as I turned.

I caught the concerned eye of our driver, a middle-aged Chinese man who looked like a he was driving for Uber as a side hustle, and was suddenly made aware that his car had exploded with sexuality in the last 2 minutes.

I smiled at him reassuringly, begging for him to turn towards the road and not ask us to stop because honestly…I didn’t know if I could. Thankfully he uncomfortably shifted in his chair and moved his eyes back to the road and tried to focus on his conversation.

As Mel expertly sucked, nibbled and caressed my chest, her other hand was running the length of my splayed thigh. Tiffany was less teasing, instead choosing to bunch the bottom of my dress around my waist and pull my soaking wet thong to the side.

I was now fully exposed to the car, and any casual person stuck in traffic around us, but I did not care.

Something about being fully open in a crowd of fully clothed people made me wetter.

“What a pretty pussy…” Tiffany purred whilst running her finger up and down my slit, filling the car with the sound of my wetness. I sucked my bottom lip and clenched my glutes, as if wanting to push out any drop of wetness I had to give to her.

Mel lifted her head from my breast as if she had been snapped out of a trance.

She moved her hand down to my aching labia, grasping it with more ownership and rubbing her thumb against my clit for a few seconds like a woman possessed.

“Fuck, you little dirty….” She almost growled as her mouth crashed to mine, pushing me against Tiffany, my nipples achingly erect.

While Mel bobbed and weaved between lust and dominance, Tiffany was all sensuality. I had never in my life felt pure sexual bliss.

Mel lifted her moist hand from between my legs, rubbing my own wetness along my lips almost teasing me to drink myself in before running her tongue along my mouth to clean up my mess.

“I need it from the source…” She unbuckled and contorted herself on to the floor behind the passenger seat. Before burying her face within my folds.

I had never before had a mouth upon me like this, and although I didn’t feel it possible, I swear I got wetter.

Instinctively I squeezed my thighs against the side of her face, and used my palm to hold her soft hair, pushing her mouth further towards me.

I just wanted her to go deeper, hit more of me and never, ever stop.

Mel moaned against me as she ate. The vibrations adding to the pleasure, and suddenly my meek whimpers became harder, my moans started coming deep from my diaphragm and I found a boldness I didn’t know I even possessed.

“Oh my god…fuck, don’t stop…please…fuck…I’ll do anything you want…” I loudly proclaimed to the car of strangers.

The boldness didn’t stop here.

I spun my head back around to Tiffany and pulled the front of her shirt down, I suddenly needed to see the breasts that encouraged the first drop of wetness that was now most likely well impeded in the stranger’s car seat below me.

As I held Mel’s head against my aching pussy, Tiffany held my head against her rapidly wrinkling brown nipple. I had never seen another woman’s breast up close before, yet here I was running my tongue around her perfect nipples whilst looking her dead in the eye.

She stared down at me, no longer smirking but breathing heavily, and heavily lidded.

I puckered my lips about her nipple, and slowly closed my eyes, putting on a show for her. I moaned deeply as I sucked in her nipple.

By this stage, Mel had worked two fingers into my tight hole and was scissoring them back and forward, trying to open me up so she could better reach the spot she was hunting for. Her mouth hadn’t left my clit which she was sucking and moaning around using the pulsing vibrations to lubricate me to what felt like an impossible level.

The rest of the world was a blur.

I had only ever had orgasms alone with my vibrator strapped to my hand, bursa elit escort never had another person pushed me over the edge, yet I felt that familiar feeling approaching quickly. The thought of fully letting go onto that handsome face made me tingle.

It’s as if she heard my inner thoughts…. hell, maybe I even said them out loud…definitely could have with how badly I wanted it.

“Are you going to come for me baby?” She looked at me with the doe eyes of an innocent lamb, whilst her smirk glistened with anything but innocence.

“Please..” It was all I could muster. She could smell my desperation, I needed a distraction and thankfully had two beautiful tanned breasts directly to my left.

I was never a fan of hickeys.

I think they are cheap and juvenile, but with the vigor of a teenage boy in heat I peppered those beautiful breasts with more little hickeys than I could count. I just needed every inch of them in my mouth. I wanted to claim them.

Every time my lust trance of titty appreciation would break, I would turn my eyes up towards Tiffany’s beautiful face. Her smeared lip gloss, still looked gorgeous and knowing it was now all over my face made it that much more appealing. I would take mini breaks to lean up and tangle my tongue with hers, just to hear her moan into my mouth and spur me on again.

As we locked eyes, her nipple sucked deep within my mouth, my hand full of her womanly flesh massaging like they were gods greatest stress ball, whilst her friends mouth was running laps around my clit, her long fingers massaging every inch of my pussy…in a strangers car whilst his eyes glanced between the road, and my most sexual moment…as plenty of additional strangers in heavy traffic around us had the chance to look in and see me being the biggest slut in the county……I finally let go.

I have never squirted in my life, and I’m not even sure if I did in that moment either, all I know is as I moaned in sweet release, I had never been wetter in my entire life. Mel’s mouth was inundated with her hard-earned reward that she lapped up willingly, moaning against me as she did.

“That’s my girl…. cum for me…let me know how badly you wanted it” She spurred me on as I rode the most euphoric wave.

As my toes curled and body vibrated, Mel didn’t get up.

Tiffany’s hands were on my neck, ripping me in her direction.

“What a perfect little slut you are….” She stuck out her tongue in front of my moaning mouth, and I eagerly sucked it in to muffle my cries of pleasure.

I felt another hand upon my body and through the corner of my eye saw the lady in the front seat, Ella, reaching her hand back to run it along my lower lips.

“Good work Mel…” She complimented with a chuckle before turning back around.

I finally broke away from Tiffany to look down at Mel who had now lifted her head and was staring directly at me with her fingers dancing patterns around my thighs.

She smiled up at me, licking her lips.

“Wow…”

She leant in and pecked my raw labia before moving back up into her seat and placing my leg back between her legs.

Once again, I became hyper aware of my situation, in a car of fully dressed strangers wearing my dress as nothing more than a belt around my waist. My naked chest covered in drying saliva and my electric, worn pussy being blasted with the AC from the center console.

The friends went back to chatting, and Mel waved her phone in front of my dazed face, open to a new contact screen.

In normal practice, you simply pop in a name and phone number, but I think I gave her every detail short of my social security number in that moment including my address. I scrolled all the way to the bottom and in the notes, section wrote-

Come over anytime I mean it…fuck me while I’m on a zoom meeting, force me up in the middle of the night and tie me…I’ll do anything you can possibly imagine.

I passed her phone back and she laughed at my desperation.

Suddenly all the car doors sprung open and the girls vanished into the street, whilst I remained splayed out, naked and ready for round 2.

A few moments later the driver pulled up to the curb outside my home and spun fully around with his elbows resting on the center consol.

“Are you ok? You need to put your clothes back on….”

I nodded and lung my arms lazily through the straps of my dress, before stepping out of the car and simply hoping that my dress would fall down from my waist as I stood to cover me.

I practically floated inside, ready to finger myself to the memory and pray that my new friends would come by and see me again.

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It was typical of my idiot brother to try to sound like an extra from an American hip-hip video; his overt eyeing June up and down did not add to my pleasure (such as it was) in seeing him again.

I introduced Mum to June, and, to my relief, something seemed to click. As Mum said to me later, in the sort of backhanded compliment she loved to dole out:

“She’s very normal. I like her.”

I did not want to ask what on earth Mum had expected, and frankly was just relieved that she was okay with June.

Over lunch the atmosphere continued to lighten, and even Didier confined himself to the odd leer in June’s direction, as Mum asked about my new life in England. Then, to my surprise, and delight, she added:

“You know, June, I’ve never approved of Fabi’s sex life, but listening to you, and meeting you, what matters isn’t that you’re a woman, it’s that you love my daughter.”

Tears came to my eyes, and I hugged her.

“Thank you, Mrs LeGoubin,” June said.

“Call me Marthe, June, and you are welcome. I’ve never seen my little Fabi happy like this.”

“I’m going to get more wine,” Didier declared, clearly not caring for the turn the conversation had taken.

“I was always so worried about her,” Mum went on, “she wasn’t right, and I had her and Didier to bring up by myself, and hadn’t any clue what to do. I was told she’d die, so sealed myself off.”

That was the first time she had ever said that to me; it explained so much. Then she turned to me.

“I’m sorry, Fabi, I was so scared that when you died, I wouldn’t be able to cope that I didn’t dare love you.”

She was in tears. So was I. I hugged her. June hugged us both.

“Hey, hey, you two, it’s going to be okay now. New start, eh?”

Mum looked at me, and I looked at her.

“Yes, Mum, new start?”

“Fabi, I’m sorry!”

At that point Didier came back in.

“Fuck this, what’s this, a gay love-in? Get a room you lot!”

Mum looked at him. I had never seen her look at him in this way.

“And you, fuck-wit, this is my apartment, and if you don’t like it, you can do the same thing as your worthless father and fuck off!”

It was worth all the aggravation he caused just to see Didier’s face as Mum finally stood up to him.

“You can’t talk to me like that, I’m the man of the house.”

“I just did, and if you don’t like it, there’s a door there – get the other side of it.”

“Wine, everyone?” June asked, in an attempt to defuse things.

Didier glared, but shut up. He had a quick temper, but was not that much of an idiot that he’s risk being thrown out.

“Let me help with the wine,” I said, leaving Mum and June alone.

“What’s wrong, Didier?” I asked, as I washed some wine glasses and prepared a few snacks.

“Your girlfriend’s a looker. Do you think she’d be open to being with me too?”

I looked up at him.

“Didier, which bit of loving someone do you actually get?”

“Fuck, that,” he said, “women are meant to be fucked by men, and just cos no one wants to fuck you, you shouldn’t take a woman like June off the market.”

There really was no reply to that! Well, none that an idiot like my brother would ever understand. So I used one he might just grasp.

“Look, Didier, I’ll say this once, you make any attempt on June and I will make sure Mum throws you out of here, do you get that?”

He glared at me.

“Fucking women! I’m off to my girlfriend’s, have fun, midget!”

And with that he stormed off, leaving me to serve the wine and snacks.

“He’s not staying then?” June asked.

“I refused him on your behalf,” I giggled.

June looked at me.

“Really, he wanted me?”

“He wanted to fuck you,” I said.

“Don’t take it personally,” Mum said to June, “you’re female and attractive, it’s what he and his dad and men like that do. You know, darling,” she said, looking at me, “maybe you made the right choice after all.”

She gave what I thought was a funny smile in June’s direction, but as the conversation picked up, I thought nothing more of it.

Maybe because of the breakthrough in our relationship, June spoke for the first time about her own mother, who, it turned out, was unwell. She was, June said, okay with her being lesbian. Mum looked sad.

“I wish I’d been like that June. You’re a lucky girl.”

“I have Fabienne, so yes, I am!”

My heart swelled with pride, and when the time came to go, I felt something I’d never thought I would feel, a sadness at leaving my mum.

“Fabi, darling, see you soon escort I hope,” Mum said, kissing me goodbye.

That, and the desire to see me again both seemed to seal whatever it was had been happening. I left feeling a whole lot better than I had when I had arrived.

As we rode the metro back, June held my hand.

“I’m glad we went there my love. Your Mum seems to have warmed to me.”

I turned and looked at her:

“So am I,” I said, “and yes, you two seemed thick as thieves.”

June just grinned.

“Well, that means I am happy,” she smiled.

“And so am I,” I smiled back.

It had been a risk, and if it had all gone Didier-shaped, I would not have been surprised. But it hadn’t. It had surpassed anything I could have imagined.

I slept in her arms all night and woke feeling refreshed and rested.

After a leisurely breakfast, I took June for a stroll down to the Ile de France. Never had I loved Paris more. Although, already, those with houses in the country had begun to leave for them, as Mme Duclos had, the place was not yet filled with tourists. We meandered along the boulevard down to river and walked along, lingering in the square at Notre Dame, before slipping down the side streets to one of my favourite cafés. It was a joy to share my city with my love.

We spent a day sight-seeing, and then returned to the bar in the late afternoon.

As we watched the world go by and drank a bottle of wine between us, I could feel something happening, and I looked over at her.

“What are you up to?” I giggled, slightly tipsy.

“You know, Shrimp,” she giggled, “I want to take you back to the apartment and fuck your brains out!”

A shiver ran through me. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more in the whole world than that.

We settled the bill.

“You know, my darling, I want you ready when we get back. So be a good girl, go to the ladies’ and take your knickers off and give them to me when you get back!”

I stared at her.

“I’m serious. Go!”

I felt so tingly between my legs that I could only nod my assent, and scurry off. She giggled and mouthed the words:

“Good girl!”

I needed to pee anyway, so did that, but instead of pulling my knickers up, I took them off, bundled them up and put them in my bag. It felt so naughty when I stood up, feeling the draught around my lower half with no knickers on.

I felt very self-conscious walking back without any knickers, but the look on her face got me so hot that I forgot about everything except her and our desire. Almost as in a daze, I handed her my knickers, which she put in her pocket.

“Good girl!” She gripped my hand.

Walking back through the streets of Paris with no knickers on, and when I was already as hot as I had ever been, simply heightened the tension, as did the vibe I was getting from June, who was clearly as excited as I was.

As we got into the elevator, she turned me to her and kissed me. I stretched up on tiptoe, tasting her lips, wanting her as badly as I knew she wanted me. She pushed her hand up the back of my skirt and gave my bare bottom a good squeeze.

“Geeze, that feels hot darling!”

Panting agreement, I kissed her some more, only stopping when we reached our floor.

June looked at me.

“There’s only a short walk to the door. Take your dress off!”

In any less worked up a mood she would not have suggested such a thing, no more than I would have entertained the idea, so it was a sign of how we both felt that I did so at once. I walked the few feet to the door naked except for my shoes.

I was so hot by the time we got into the room that I pressed June into the door that she had just closed and, pulling her knickers down, I parted her legs and, after I had slipped her knickers off one foot, applied myself to her pussy.

I had no idea what she had wanted to do, but I needed to eat her out at once. My hand gripped her hips. I felt her hands on my head. Sniffing her, I knew how wet she was for me, and so, parting her lips a little, I applied the tip of my tongue to her slit, licking upwards until I reached her unhooded clit, which I flicked and then sucked.

I wanted her so badly.

I gripped her sexy ass and somehow manoeuvred us so that I was on the floor, and she was straddling my face. Her warm thighs pressed against my ears as she rubbed her pussy on my face. I licked where I could, but was more than happy just to let her hump my face as she needed.

Gripping her bum, I pulled her onto me whenever she raised herself bursa eve gelen escort to let me breathe. As her hips gyrated, my tongue found its way into her slippery wetness, and my nose pressed against her clit.

I could hear her moaning loudly. My own moans were muffled by the fact that her pussy was filling my mouth. She rode me hard, pressing and humping. Her bum cheeks felt so good as I dug my nails into her. It was primal, it was us wanting each other and brooking no delay, and as she exploded onto my face, I came too. The joint orgasm carried us both away on a tide of erotic love and lust.

I looked up.

“You look so sexy like that darling, with my juices smeared all over your face. You ARE a bad girl; I was going to fuck you senseless and then you go and pull that on me.”

I giggled.

“Well, it’s your fault, you are irresistible.”

“That, madame, is NOT going to get you off,” she said, her eyes locking on mine, “you do know that.”

I felt myself blush – and gush.

“Yes, Miss June.”

“Good girl. Now stand up and present your bum to me – NOW!”

I stood up and, facing away from her, put both hands on the table and pushed my bum out. I shivered as I felt her hands touching me there. When she ran a finger down between my cheeks, I whimpered.

“You know what happens to naughty girls, Shrimp?”

To hear her use my pet name whilst teasing me, drew from me a longer sigh, which became a moan as I felt her index finger tease my dark hole.

“Yes, Miss,” I groaned, disappointed as she withdrew her finger. And then I felt a sharp slap as her hand spanked me. That made me whimper even more.

“Thank you, Miss, one!”

And then again, and again, two, three, four and five, then a sixth. My bum was on fire at her relentless spanking. Then the pain turned to a burning between my thighs, and I felt a wetness trickle down my upper thighs.

Her fingers scooped it up and she put her fingers in front of my face.

‘You are a dirty girl, aren’t you, Shrimp? Suck my fingers.”

“Yes, Miss June. I sucked.

Then, for a moment, she was gone.

My bum ached, my pussy was so needy that I was almost pushing it against the side to the table. Then I felt her hand push me down, before she spread my thighs.

“Do you need a good fucking, Shrimp?”

At that point, as she well knew, I’d have agreed to anything.

“Yes, Miss June.”

“Beg me to fuck you.”

“Ohhh,” I moaned, feeling my pussy dripping, “please fuck me, please Miss June.”

“Are you my bitch, Fabienne? Say it!”

She knew the effect she was having. I was so hot, wet, and utterly desperate that I was pushing myself back, just wanting her. But she was not going to give it me that easily.

“I am your bitch, Miss June, please fuck me!”

With that I screamed with delight as she pushed her strappy into me. I was so sloppy that she had no trouble. As she pushed, she spanked me again. I lost it, pushing back hard, wanting my pussy to be as full as possible.

June thrust in and out, spanking me as she took me hard.

Then, just as I was on the very edge, she pulled out, leaving me almost sobbing with frustration.

“Kneel.”

I turned and knelt.

Her strap-on was glistening with my goo.

“See how wet you are, darling?”

We both knew that I so often had a problem in that area; not with her and not like this.

“Can you guess what I want?”

She smiled; I knew.

Reaching round, I unlatched the harness and pulled it down her legs, before donning it myself.

“Me, in you,” I almost screamed.

She lay back and I climbed on her where she lay on the floor. As I thrust the strappy into her and our juices mingled, I felt her grip my thighs. I pushed in and out, frantically wanting her to cum.

“Who do you belong to, June?” I cried as I took her.

“You, I’m yours, all yours,” she gasped as I pushed in and out.

Then she came, and I came with her.

We just lay there, lost in each other.

After what seemed to be an age, she said:

“This floor is not the most comfortable place to cuddle.”

I giggled.

Reluctantly pulling out, which made her whimper, we went to our bedroom and held each other.

The following morning we lay in each other’s arms until the need for food propelled us to get up.

“Darling, that was wonderful,” I said.

“Yes, it was, the moods sometimes comes, but I’m glad you felt you could take control too.”

“We do what görükle escort we need to, when we need to,” I giggled.

We spent the next two days sight-seeing and making love. It was good to see June so happy, though I did notice she seemed a bit preoccupied with texting at times. Assuming it was something to do with Wolfie’s, I thought nothing of it.

On the Thursday night she said she’d booked us a table at the restaurant near Notre Dame, a quiet little place out of the way.

We got there about six, and sat and watched the world go by.

“You seem happier, darling?” She said, holding my hand.

“I am. Whatever force said to come back here with you was for the good. It’s just a shame my brother is a dick!”

She giggled.

“Well he clearly fancied me, so maybe it’s as well he’s a dick! Do you ever see your older sister?”

“Hélène? Not often, she and the kids live in Anthony which is south of here. She does not like to bring them to Gennevilliers, for obvious reasons, so no. Why do you ask?”

“Oh it’s just that looks incredibly like Marthe, and the woman with her looks like her, so I am assuming…!”

I turned to look, and yes, it was Hélène with Mum.

Hélène beamed when she saw me.

“Ma crevette!” She grinned as she pulled me to her bosom. “And you must be the June my mother has been raving about?”

June confirmed “guilty as charged.”

I was stunned. The smile on Mum’s face matched the one on June’s. This, I realised, was a set up.

I kissed and hugged my sister. Hélène showed us pictures of the kids. Leo and Mathilde looked so grown up – I had not seen them in nearly two years, and at six and four respectively, they had changed beyond recognition. I felt a pang of regret.

June was clearly delighted with the kids, telling Hélène how beautiful they were.

“Will you and Fabi be having any?”

It felt like a bombshell!

June looked at me.

“Well, it’s not something we’ve discussed, but” and at this point she looked me right in the eyes, “as she can’t get pregnant, I would for us – if she wanted.”

Mum grinned.

“Ooh, I can be a grandma all over again. Let’s face it, it’s not like I will ever know if any of Didier’s women get pregnant!”

Hélène grinned.

“Oh, did I speak out of turn?”

From the way she was smiling, I knew she had wanted to raise the issue.

I looked at June and held her hand.

“Oh my darling, yes, a thousand times yes. You would, for me?”

“As long as Didier isn’t the donor,” she giggled.

On that, we all agreed.

“So,” I said after we had ordered some food, “I am taking it this is no accident?”

June grinned.

Hélène said that Mum had suggested we should all meet up.

I looked at Mum, and then at June, but they were still just grinning like cats who had swallowed a large amount of cream.

I told my sister her that her arrival had made my day.

“Well, shrimp, don’t be a stranger, eh? Now you and Mum are good, I want to see more of my little sister – and her gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Interesting you should say that” June smiled. She looked at Mum, who smiled and nodded.

I looked bewildered.

“As your Mum and your sister are here, I have a question for you darling.”

She knelt in front of me.

My heart beat like a big bass drum.

“Fabienne LeGoubin, will you do the honour of becoming my wife?”

It was as though the world stood still and I could see the scene from above.

Mum’s face was wreathed in smiles, Hélène was grinning, and there was this smaller figure looking as though she could not believe her ears – that must have been me!

“June, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

With that, she slipped a silver braid ring on my finger. There was another in the box. I took it and slipped it on her finger. I kissed her.

“You knew,” I said to Mum.

“Of course,” she said, June and I planned the whole thing – and here comes the champagne!”

The waiter poured us each a glass.

“Well,” said Hélène, “I need to correct my last statement – it’s a delight to meet your fiancée. Here’s to you both!”

I grinned.

There was something about June taking this initiative which struck to the heart of our relationship. I had been wondering, in the depths of my heart, where this was going? It was so new to me, and I did not want it to end, but nor did I want it to meander on aimlessly.

“I am so pleased, Fabi,” Mum said. She reached over and hugged June. “I think you are ideal for my little girl.”

“So do I,” said Hélène, “she’s just what you need Shrimp.”

I knew they were right. That connection, deep inside us, needed more than a commitment to live together. Our love deserved more. I looked with delight at my ring. I entwined my finger with June’s.

“Thank you darling!”

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I slumped onto a leather couch, unconcerned about dignity. I was wearing a backless black halter top, with a boob window, that ended somewhere north of my midriff. My red skirt, which ended barely halfway down my thighs, was so small that even my Devilla side was a little embarrassed to be wearing it. And now I was sprawling myself out on a couch, thighs spread, with my black panties utterly visible to the world. One could safely say that I had given up on modesty as well.

Then again, demon queens weren’t actually expected to be modest, were they? Today’s outfit was the result of me telling Abigail I wanted to, “dress to impress,” and I couldn’t deny that it had done the job. At the very least nobody had given me trouble when I demanded entry to the royal vaults, using the excuse that I wanted to take one of our national treasures for my own use.

It had all been for nothing in the end, though. True, I got a fairly decent magic item from it, but my real goal – rereading the Rite of Insight – was a total bust. I had gotten my hands on the spell again, without much issue, but no matter how many times I read the spell nothing more had happened. No light, no darkness, and no insight. That knowledge could have been really useful to me, too, so I was fairly distressed.

“You seem pretty upset,” Abigail remarked, walking into the room behind me. “Did your new toy not bring you any joy?”

“It is a national treasure, not a toy,” I told her, firmly, frowning. My ancestor had only brought two items down from the heavens, after all, and – putting aside the collar Lucy used on me in the game – they were the only enchanted item I knew of in this world. We’d lost the indestructible sword during the last war, making the item I held even more precious.

Abigail, however, did not look impressed. “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to ‘play around with it’?”

“Urk… Is it just me or have you grown more and more pointed in your remarks?” I asked, attempting to change the subject. It was true that I had made a comment along those lines, but it had all been an attempt to keep up appearances. I needed to keep things on track for my people’s eventual rebellion.

“Why don’t you whip me for misconduct, then?” Abigail suggested. “Or you could put me on the rack in the dungeons. Or you could even paddle my ass a bit during sex tonight. It might even make you feel better.”

“What? No. Your insolence aside, I do not see how punishing you would do anything for my mood.”

“Really? You always seemed to like punishing people in the past,” Abigail pointed out, raising a blonde eyebrow.

“Urk…” She’d gotten me again. “Th-that was then, this is now. I enjoy your company far too much to enjoy punishing you for no reason.”

For some reason Abigail looked a little dejected when I delivered that news, her shoulders slumping and her head hanging low. Was it that much of a blow, knowing that someone as reviled as I enjoyed her company?

After a long moment, Abigail let out an even longer sigh. “If you won’t punish me, then what will help? Do you want to call a musician for a song? You want the chef to cook your favorite meal? It’s depressing watching you mope like this.”

“I am not in the mood for music right now,” I confessed. “And the chefs cannot make my favorite food…” Ahhh, I wanted fries. Potato chips, too. Salty and delicious… I had not had either of them once, as Devilla, but the mere memory of them was enough to make my mouth water. “If only we had oil…”

“Huh? Of course we have oil,” Abigail told me.

“What?” I jumped to my feet. “Where does it come from? Why have I not used it yet? Is it expensive?”

“It’s peanut oil,” Abigail informed me. “And it’s affordable, I guess. We haven’t used it yet because you’re a novice, and I didn’t want you splattering hot oil all over yourself. I’m surprised you even knew that you could cook the stuff, and not just, like, pour it on your enemies.”

“I learned it from the Rite of Insight,” I lied. Lying came with a surprising ease to me, in this life, thanks to years of practice as Devilla. My conscience wasn’t entirely at ease with it, but there were some things I just wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Like how this world had been used as the setting of a porn game in my last life. “Now what about potatoes? And salt. I haven’t seen salt at all.”

“I’ve never heard of… poe-tay-toes?” Abigail informed me. “And we all ran out of salt years ago.”

“…Yes, I suppose that would be the case,” I sighed. I’d been learning to cook over the last three days, and had added bacon, sausage, and eggs to my repertoire. I’d used a fair amount of spices during that time, too. Apparently we grew the stuff ourselves, alongside all our other food, with the aid of magic. Which was probably actually the crux of the problem. We couldn’t grow salt.

“Still, I really want to eat something salty,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s see, salt, salt… I don’t even know where to begin bursa escort with mining the stuff… but there’s plenty of it in the sea, right?”

I turned my attention to Abigail, a slow smile slipping across my lips. Abigail’s response was to shudder a little, and take a step backwards. A little rude… But I wasn’t going to let it bother me. Not when I was so close to an idea. “Abigail. I require a map of the continent. Including our current location and the location of as many human settlements as possible.”

“Yeah, that sounds like military intelligence?” Abigail suggested, frowning. “I think you’d need to talk to general Mifa about that.”

Ah. The harpy general, on the fortieth floor. It was perhaps obvious to put the fliers in charge of reconnaissance, and even I hadn’t been stupid enough to mess that up. Hopefully Mifa had been doing a decent job of it, too, because I’d never really checked.

“Very well,” I declared, standing upright. “I shall head to Mifa immediately.”

“You can’t be serious,” Abigail protested. “Aren’t there like. Proper channels for this stuff? Shouldn’t you be setting up appointments a week ahead of time?”

“Probably,” I admitted, shrugging my shoulders. “I will have to ask her to forgive my selfishness, one more time. For the sake of my taste buds – no, my people’s taste buds – no, for the sake of the enrichment of our very soul, I swear I shall bring salt to tables across the tower!”

Abigail stared at me for a moment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then her shoulders slumped forward. “I don’t care anymore,” she mumbled. “The rite must have driven her insane, or something. Or maybe I’m dreaming…”

“You will think you are dreaming when you eat a properly salted dish,” I informed Abigail, grabbing her hand and moving toward a nearby window.

Abigail did not resist, and soon I had I unlocked and opened the window. A tickling sensation ran down my back, a moment before my black wings sprouted, and I moved to stand on the windowsill. It was there, however, that I hesitated.

I had flown many times as Devilla. More times than I could count, really. But not once since I’d recovered my memories as Jacob. I knew, intellectually, that the process had not changed. I should be able to do it as easily as I ever had. It was only that it was a touch scary, staring down at a ground so far away and getting ready to step out into nothingness. In fact, I was starting to get just a touch sick to my stomach.

“Is something wrong?” Abigail asked, exasperated.

“N-No,” I lied, not entirely able to hide my nervousness. I took a deep breath, and centered myself. “I’ll be fine…” I took another deep breath, closed my eyes, and pressed against the windowsill. It was meant to be a small jump, carrying me just far enough out to spread my wings, but I must have misjudged the strength of it because I ended up jumping about twenty feet into the air.

For a moment I hung there, the momentum of my jump tuned perfectly to the gravity of my new world. Then I began to fall, plummeting faster and faster. My eyes were still closed, but I could feel the wind tearing at my body as I fell.

Then my wings pumped, just once, and all movement ceased. It was not like the flight of an actual bird. It did not rely on my strength, or on air currents. It was simply that the act of flapping my wings activated my magic, keeping me afloat with barely any effort at all. It was like a spell – but distinctly not one. For one thing, I could cast other magic while flying. Which was good, since I’d be relying on illusion magic to hide my presence when I was flying above human towns.

“You’re flying like a fledgling.”

“I do not need the commentary,” I grumbled, opening my eyes at last. Abigail was hovering before me. “Do you have the time to waste on such things, anyhow? I do not believe your magic power is strong enough to support prolonged flight.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just let myself fall down a bit, and then catch myself. And I’ll take breaks at the windows if I need them. That’s how I usually do it.”

“…That is a terrible way of making it down,” I said, flapping my wings to move a little closer to her. Without asking her for permission, I slid my hands about her back and knees, taking her into a princess carry. She let out a little squeak, but didn’t resist. “It is a long way down and I refuse to spend it all falling. It would mess with my hair.” And give me serious nightmares besides. I had done my fair share of freefalling as Devilla, but now I had little things like the law of gravity screaming in the back of my head and telling me not to take any stupid chances.

“Your hair.” Abigail looked like she was torn between laughing and yelling, but settled for simply crossing her arms instead. “You could have at least asked first.”

“My apologies. Next time I will.”

Abigail blinked, apparently startled, but otherwise remained silent in my arms. For several bursa escort bayan minutes the only sound was that of my wings, which would flap every few seconds.

“…So…” I started, when I could bear it no longer, “have you been my maid long?”

“…What the hell kinda question is that?” Abigail wanted to know, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t you know the work history of your own personal maid?”

“You know full well I do not.” It was my turn to glare. “I am aware that I am a flawed hu… I mean. Ah. I am aware of my faults. Perhaps chief among them is the fact that I never paid attention to you, or anyone else. But I am trying, Abigail. And I would appreciate it if you would meet me halfway.”

Abigail was silent for a moment. It was difficult, as always, to tell exactly where her black eyes were focused, but I got the feeling that she was looking me up and down as best she could from her position.

“You’ve changed,” she said, at last. “Ever since the Rite of Insight – it’s like you’ve been a completely different person.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “I am the same Devilla Satanne that I have always been. If anything has changed about me, it is merely that I’ve gained the wisdom and insight of my ancestors.” On the outside, I seemed perfectly calm. My voice was steady, and my gaze was centered on where I thought Abigail’s pupils were. On the inside, I was sweating buckets. My heart was beating like mad and it was only by exercising tight control over my breathing that I avoided the urge to hyperventilate. It wasn’t just fear of rebellion, or not wanting to let Abigail know about Tower Conquest. The terror I felt came from a far more surprising source: if Abigail found out that I used to be human, she would surely hate me.

“…The wisdom and insight of your ancestors.” Abigail’s voice was utterly flat. “Is that how you got so good at sex, all of a sudden?”

“Is that so strange? My ancestors were quite sexual creatures. They left quite a bit of knowledge behind in the archive.” None of that was a lie, so far as I knew. I was pretty sure there was carnal knowledge I couldn’t even dream of in that archive. Not that I’d ever get to find out.

“Knowing how to do something and being able to do it are two different things,” Abigail countered. Emotion had crept back into her voice, in the form of anger. Her wings pressed back against my arms, taking her back up into the air before I could protest.

“You learned my name. You suddenly wanted to know how to cook – but even though you were acting like you’ve never been in a kitchen in your life, you know things I’ve never taught you, like how to cook with oil. Plus you’re suddenly obsessed with the taste of salt, something that hasn’t been in the tower since we were both babies.”

“Th-The rite told me about the salt. It’s supposedly delicious.” My voice cracked a little under the intensity of Abigail’s glare. I felt sweat beading on the back of my neck, too, and it was all I could do to keep meeting Abigail’s eyes. If I looked away, I knew she’d lose all doubt.

“You said the chefs can’t cook your favorite meal without it. A favorite meal that contains an ingredient I’ve never heard of, an ingredient you didn’t know we had, and an ingredient we haven’t had since you were a baby. Who are you?”

“I am Devilla Satanne. Queen of Dimona Tower. If you are so deluded as to not recognize your own ruler, then I do not know what to tell you.” It felt like I was digging my own grave with every word. Abigail was looking more and more agitated, and more than a little disgusted with me, besies. There was also something else I noticed – she was sweating.

Although extreme temperatures in general seemed to have little effect on me, I could still tell that the air was fairly cold, what with us being up so high. Flying wasn’t very physically exhausting, as I’ve already covered. I wasn’t sure what could be causing Abigail to sweat, at all, and I certainly didn’t understand why it was getting more profuse by the second.

“If you… can’t… be honest… with me,” Abigail said at last, panting. “Then I… can’t… help you. I quit.” Saying so, she closed her wings and began to plummet toward the ground beneath.

I stared after Abigail for a moment, mouth open, but no words coming out. I wanted to go after her, to beg her to reconsider, but I wasn’t sure what I could say. Indeed, she’d made the decision based purely on what I did say, and unless I was willing to come clean and speak the truth I couldn’t see Abigail changing her mind. As such, as much as it hurt my heart, I could do nothing but let her go.

“It’s for the best,” I told myself. “She would have come to hate me, eventually, regardless…” I didn’t know why I’d been so scared of the idea. When I thought about it, her eventual hatred had always been a foregone conclusion. After all, I intended to abandon my people to the heroine, and flee into the bursa merkez escort sunset. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d ever actually liked me to begin with. We’d simply gotten to a point where she could tolerate me, for a while, and now we were past the point where she could do so. It was best to think of it that way. I had already learned the bare basics of how to cook, anyway. I could probably figure out the rest on my own. Though I’d still need to find a teacher on how to do laundry.

Below me, Abigail’s wings opened. She came to an instant halt, before a window, and moved toward it. She was somewhere in the vicinity of the sixtieth floor, and I could only imagine she intended to let me pass before heading back up again. The very fact that she’d descended at all, when her home lay above, spoke volumes about how determined she’d been to put distance between us with what magic power she had left at her disposal.

Well, whatever. I would honor her decision, and fly past the window when I reached it. I would not follow her. I would not. I was washing my hands of her.

Or that was my intent, at least. But then Abigail’s wings suddenly snapped shut. Her hand, outstretched toward the window, snagged hold of the ledge for a moment, but then the weight of her body slammed against the wall and she lost her grip. She was falling down below me, tumbling end over end.

Abigail. The closest thing I had to a companion. The one who was so close to figuring out my secret I could cry. The one who chose to leave me. For a moment, seeing her fall, my mind almost went blank. I had been in the midst of such a torrent of emotions already that I simply didn’t know how to process the event. Yet even as my brain started to shut down, a single thought was running through my conscious, bringing with it an overwhelming impulse. Abigail was in trouble; I needed to save her.

There were many times in the past that I allowed myself to fall, while flying. It was generally accepted to be the easiest way of reaching lower floors. It saved magic power, and since it was easy enough to stop there was little risk associated with it. Just because it was the easiest way of reaching the lowest floors, however, did not mean that it was the fastest. If one truly wished to go somewhere in a hurry, and one was not afraid of the risk of descending too far, there was a far faster method at one’s disposal.

Turning about in midair, I pointed my head toward the ground and moved my wings to flap at the air. I did not flap once every few seconds, as I had so far, but instead kept beating my wings as strongly as I could manage. I poured magic into my flight, simultaneously casting a spell to lower my wind resistance. My mental image was a cone of condensed air, moving with me, helping me to cut through the sky at a speed that would make bullets green with envy.

In an instant, I had overshot my goal, and found myself at the fortieth floor to Abigail’s fiftyish. That was fine, though. I dropped my spell, and cast another, blowing wind magic up toward me and flapping my wings to come to a halt. Then I righted myself, using my wings to hold myself in place even as I continued to send wind rushing up above my head. The gusts I created caught Abigail, slowing her descent enough that I could safely grab her, and pull her flailing form against my chest. She was deep in panic, arms and legs flailing about, but I simply held her against myself and waited for her to calm.

“Are you alright?” I asked, once Abigail had stopped moving about.

“I… You saved me?” Abigail whispered, disbelief clear in her voice. As dark as her eyes were, I was absolutely sure her pupils were focused on mine.

“Who are you?” she asked, again.

“I am Devilla Satanne,” I told her again. “The demon queen. And your mistress.”

“…I quit, though…” Abigail’s voice sounded numb. Perhaps that was to be expected, though.

“Then you can quit again after we are home,” I told her, firmly. “I will not listen to it until then.”

I expected her to object, but Abigail didn’t say a word. Instead, she gave a slow, unsteady nod, furrowing her brow and looking me up and down once again.

“…In any case, we are here,” I declared. The number “40” was drawn in golden paint above the nearest window. It twinkled lightly in the sunlight, as if to welcome us to our destination.

Landing lightly on the windowsill, I hopped down onto the narrow strip of landing that hugged the edge of the tower beneath it. I was careful, and made sure Abigail had proper footing, before turning my attention to looking about.

This area was just like in the game. A narrow staircase, winding its way around the outer tower, with empty space where the floor should be. The only solid space, other than the staircase, was a single, massive, iron plated column that started on the thirty first floor and continued to the ceiling of the fortieth. There were perches attached to it, where the various harpies rested. A platform extended from the column, as well, where the floor of the fortieth floor would normally be. The landing I stood on, which marked the end of a long staircase, was connected to the aforementioned platform by a bridge. Another bridge extended from there to more stairs on the other side.

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