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That’s good,” Sammi said down the phone.
“Cos of two reasons.”
“May I ask what they are?” I said half expecting to be told to fuck off and not be so bloody impertinent.
“First, because I can now fuck you when I want for over two weeks can’t I?”
“Yes,” I replied simply to my eighteen year old lesbian Domme lover. “And the second?”
“That, you can wait to find out, I’ll be round in an hour or so,” she said cutting the connection without any further ado, something she often did.
My husband, Kevin, had a business involved with the oil industry and travelled a lot. I sometimes went with him when he went to places like Dallas and Houston, Dubai and Bahrain that were marginally interesting. A two and a half week trip to upcountry China didn’t qualify, so I was on my own.
Up until a few weeks ago I would have had my eighteen year old daughter Sara for company, but having left school with great A level results she was on a gap year travelling in Asia and Australia. So I was alone, well I would have been apart from Sammi. She was Sara’s friend at school. Being very sporty she had decided to try to make it in professional football with Arsenal ladies team instead of going to uni. Just last week she had been given a contract.
I had known Sammi since she was eleven so I had seen her grow up. From a child, through puberty, into a young woman I had watched her growing and developing. Until the moment she seduced me just six weeks ago, however, I had no inkling of her sexuality or of my latent bisexual feelings. Equally, as we had developed our strange relationship, I had no idea that I was cut out to be the ideal submissive to my young lover’s dominant side. But I was and that is what she did to me. It was so incongruous, I thought, a forty three year old, happily married, pillar of society mother being fucked at every opportunity by an eighteen year old female soccer player.
“So you liked that did you?” She asked me as we lay side by side in my marital bed in my house later that afternoon?
“Yes,” I grunted feeling nearly sated after Sammi had made me cum three times in quick succession; I was beginning to think I was getting too old for such multi orgasm sessions.
“You liked me doing that?”
“Yes, I told you.”
“Was it better than when Kevin does it?”
“Yes, I think it was.”
“Good, well next time my dirty slut I am going to use a dildo up that lovely arse of yours and not my tongue and fingers.”
I dozed for a while then woke up. Sammi was gone. I got up, slipped into a pair of tracky trousers and a baggy sweat shirt, just in case Ben our gardener had shown up, although it was raining, and went downstairs. Sammi was sitting on one of the wicker chairs in the pool conservatory naked. I looked round the garden, she saw me.
“Yes your gardener was here, he got quite an eyeful seeing me doing my lengths.”
“Don’t worry I’m only joking, he didn’t see me.”
I made some tea and we sat drinking in the conservatory.
“So you like flashing then?” She asked completely out of the blue obviously referring to a few evenings ago.
We’d had dinner to celebrate her contract. In the restaurant she had made me go to the loo and remove my bra. Outside the restaurant we had gone under an overhanging tree and she had not only unbuttoned my top and got my tits out, but had also pulled my tightish skirt up and made me take my panties off and give them to her. As we walked down, fairly quiet roads I was, at first, petrified that someone would see my tits which continuously popped out from my top. But later as we got nearer my home she had rolled my skirt up and pulling me into a doorway had finger fucked me to a near orgasm. She then made me walk with my skirt round my waist stopping every hundred yards or so to rekindle my climax. She had considerately moved very close to me and had shielded me as people walked past on the other side of the road, but some must have seen either my tits or pubes or bum or even all of them.
“Yes Sammi, I think I showed that,” I replied referring to the fact that when we got to my house we had fucked each other in the middle of the lawn in my back garden.
“See, stick with Sammi and you’ll learn a lot,” she said quite jauntily, picking up her ironing that I had done that morning. “See you then,” she said walking out and getting on her scooter.
I was very surprised when I saw that it was her calling me on my mobile later that evening. She usually left it a few days after we’d had sex before getting in touch, making me pine was the reason, I assumed. Actually, the time gaps did quite the opposite. They made me resolve to stop the relationship. It was becoming riskier all the time. Sammi and I were taking more chances and I was horrified that someone, especially my daughter would find out. So after each time I vowed to finish it and tell her it was all over. I wish it was true that the reason I didn’t was because I believed she would tell Sara and Kevin, but deep down I knew that she wouldn’t tell them. bağcılar escort Deep down the reasons I didn’t finish it were, and it totally pissed me off to recognise it, that I wanted the buzz, I enjoyed what she we were doing, I was feeling liberated and I loved the type of sex we were having.
“Ok,” she said when I answered “Tomorrow night will be big time.”
“How do you mean?”
“No need to worry your pretty little head about how, just believe it is. You are in for something really special, now listen carefully.”
I listened with a degree of incredulity. But then, after going on the first date with her and dressing in that short skirt so she could look up it on the escalators at Piccadilly Circus and then having her lift it up and rub my clit until she made me cum in front of a gay man and lesbian audience in the Falcon pub in Soho, I was getting used to outlandish things with Sammi.
She hadn’t told me what we were going to do nor where we were going other than that I had to meet her outside Patel’s pharmacy right outside Notting Hill tube station the next evening at eight in the evening. She had though given very explicit instructions on how I should dress.
“Don’t wear a bra, I want your tits bare and available at all times. You could wear that white blouse you had on when we went to the Falcon, but something thinner and tighter would be better. It must be buttoned up the front and be as thin as possible so I can see your nipples through it, you can wear something over it for the tube trip.”
Little did she know that I had no intention of using the Central Line, but instead would use Kevin’s account to have a nice Merc or BMW whisk me up to Bayswater where I would use the tube for one station, just in case she was watching.
“You must wear a skirt, it doesn’t matter whether its short or long, tight or loose, but you should wear stockings so that might help you make your mind up on the skirt.”
I tried asking questions as to why I had to dress that way, but it was impossible. Sammi has this knack of simply ignoring things she doesn’t want to hear and she simply went on with her instructions.
“The type of shoe doesn’t matter, but not boots. Don’t wear much make up and put your hair in plaits.”
“Plaits, what do you mean?”
“You know like pigtails.”
“What like kids, schoolgirls wear?” I asked my surprise and curiosity mounting as Sammi gave me her orders.
“Shit you can be so dumb sometimes, it’s a surprise you aren’t blonde,” she said coldly, but adding slightly warmer “Can’t you Missus W?”
I had got to know knew better than to ignore one of her questions, even a rhetorical one. “Yes Sammi, ok I’ll do that.”
“Ok now the important part.”
“What’s that?” I asked genuinely having no idea what else was required.
“Oh yes,” I replied as if it was common place to discuss such intimate apparel, but then with Sammi it actually was fairly common, not that she wore them very often.
“You see the film Bridget Jones, the first one?”
“Yes I did, twice actually.”
“Why the fuck did you see that crock of shit twice? No never mind. Anyway as you saw it twice you’ll remember where Hugh Grant shagged Renee whatsername on the floor.”
“Yes I do.”
“And when he got his hand up her skirt he found those big knickers?”
“Well you need to wear some similar to that.”
“What BJs? Why?” I couldn’t help asking.
“You don’t need to know, just get some and wear them. They mus be net, know what I mean?”
“What see through mesh sort of thing?”
“Yes, preferably pink, I like pink, but any pastel colour will do, as long as I can see you crack through them.”
“Ok,” I said as the line went dead.
Whilst I had no idea at all about Sammi’s plans I found myself becoming aroused as she had given me my instructions. I often found that happening and wasn’t sure why. Partly it was the excitement anyone should get from talking to a lover, partly it was hearing her tell me how to dress and partly it was the anticipation of what was inevitable when I met her, vibrant, different and maybe extreme, lesbian sex. But I knew intertwining itself with all of those was the buzz I got from her dominating me and telling me what to do.
At times when I was alone and I thought about the control she was increasingly getting over me, I became scared. That was because I was not at all sure that I would be able to resist almost any order she gave me and I knew that could lead to trouble. In fact the other evening when she had made me, well hardly made for I loved it, walk home with my breasts out and my skirt round my waist, we must have been very close to being in trouble. Anyone could have seen me and it would only have taken a police car to come along and the eagle eyed cops would surely have spotted my bare tits, arse and pubes.
Even as I thought that I felt my heart beating faster, my pulse started to race and that familiar heat and irritation started in the pit of my stomach and flowed upwards into my breasts. They started cihangir escort to tingle and feel so heavy. My nipples began to ache. I was becoming extremely aroused. I touched my breasts, ran my fingers over each boob and then slid them my bra and pinched my nipple. I had to masturbate.
I went to my bedroom and removed my jeans; denim is too thick and rough to masturbate through I find. I slipped out of my tee shirt and unclipped my bra. ‘Oh fuck,’ I said out loud as my mobile rang. Fortunately I had brought it with me and with my bra clinging to my boobs I picked it up. I didn’t recognise the number, but I answered it.
“Oh and wear a sussie belt, not those fucking poncy hold ups you had on at the Falcon,” Sammi said before the phone went dead.
“Come on this way,” Sammi said grabbing my hand as I came out of the station. On seeing her there I was thinking how fortunate it was I hadn’t come all the way by car; she would have gone fucking barmy and then God only knows what would have happened.
We walked back towards Bayswater and took the first turn on the left Pembridge Road I noticed. Once round the corner where it was quiet, she stopped .
“Let me have a look at you, let’s see what you’ve done. Undo the coat.”
I was wearing a thin, silky skirt that came down to just above my knee, ‘Sensible length with stockings’ I’d thought. It was loose, but not flared and was sort of paisley patterned, predominantly oranges and yellow. It swung nicely when I walked without the mid calf length, white plastic trench coat with the black belt and big black buttons I was wearing over it. Where the thin material was stretched across my upper thighs there was some interesting shapes suggesting that I was wearing a suspender belt.
“Mmmm nice” she said running her gaze up and down me. “Turn round.”
She lifted the coat when my back was towards her and ran her hands over my bum. “Yes very nice, I like that,” she said feeling the big knickers I was wearing. “What colour are they?”
“Pink sir, just as you ordered,” I smiled adding “The stockings ok?”
She then saw that they had seams.
“Oh yes very nice,” she said moving closer and putting her hands either side of me. She pulled on the white cotton of the thin blouse I had bought specially for the occasion. I knew full well what she would be seeing for I had done a similar thing as I had dressed. The sides would gape, the buttons strain in the holes, little gaps would appear down the front showing the insides of my bare boobs and my areola and nipples would be emphasised through the material.
“Well Missus W, you certainly are a quick learner aren’t you?”
The compliment made me feel good.
“Thank you Sammi.”
“Now what the fuck have you done with your fucking hair?”
“Easy, no problem. Just what you ordered,” I said reaching up and pulling the pins out so the two pigtails fell down one behind and the other on my shoulders.
“Great, you’ve done well, let’s go.”
I didn’t ask where, but obediently almost trotted alongside her; Sammi walked very fast.
She was wearing her flip flops and black tracky trousers rolled up to just beneath her knees, despite the weather turning and the temperature falling. As condescension to that, she was wearing the tracky top as well, but it was not zipped up so I couldn’t see what was under it.
We walked for about ten minutes towards Portobello Road. She clearly knew where she was going so I assumed she had been before. We got to a large four or five storey Victorian townhouse and she led me up the six or so steps to the imposing black door with highly polished brass fittings. She rang the bell and a voice asked through a microphone who was there? Sammi simply said ‘Sammi’ confirming very clearly that she was known. The door buzzed, Sammi opened it and we went in.
There was an attractive, though quite severe looking woman sitting behind a desk, obviously a receptionist. Sammi simply nodded and walked past her without a word. The woman eyed me up and down making me feel somewhat embarrassed about the pigtails, but she said nothing. Sammi led me along the wide hall to the back of the house. She opened a door that had a notice ‘members only’ on it and I saw a flight of stairs going down. As we walked down them I asked.
“What is this place?”
“It’s that club I told you about?”
“What club, when?”
“When we went out on that date.”
“What to Soho?”
“Yes when you got off in the Falcon, you do remember, I assume?” She said sarcastically.
“Of course, how could I forget?”
“Not easily I imagine. I mean having an orgasm in front of a crowd of people in a pub with your tits out and skirt round your waist is a rather memorable event.”
“Yes quite,” I said softly hoping no one was listening. I did actually remember her saying that we might go onto a club before we went into the Falcon pub, but the events that occurred in there rather took over the evening.
We walked along a corridor turned to the right then to the left. It was a bit like a hotel gaziosmanpaşa escort with doors on either side every few yards. I could see a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor and we went to them and Sammi used one of those credit card keys to open the door. We went into a small hallway which was furnished with just a table on which there was long thin vase filled with beautiful long stemmed lilies. The smell was very strong, but lovely. There were three doors leading from the lobby. Sammi opened one and I followed her into a small room that looked to be a changing room for there was a wardrobe, a tiny dressing table and a couple of easy chairs. One wall was covered with a floor to ceiling mirror.
“Hang your coat in there and wait here,” she said leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
It was all quite mysterious, but also rather exciting. I had no idea whatsoever what was going on or what was going to happen.
I sat there for what seemed an age becoming more edgy as the minutes passed. I must have inspected myself in the mirror a dozen times, checking my, as Sammi had instructed little, make up and my hair, which actually looked quite cute, I thought, in the pigtails, although of course they were totally inappropriate on a woman of my age.
I checked my appearance from the front, noting how the blouse, which was really too small for me, clung to my breasts. It gaped a little at each of the six or so buttons that were done up giving flashes of the insides of my each of my breasts. I had left two undone so the first one done up was just above the start of the swell of my boobs about where my cleavage would have started had I been wearing a bra. Obviously, as I moved in front of the mirror they jiggled and wobbled and my nipples were clearly on show through the thin material. Further down, the indentations of the small buckles and the fasteners on the suspenders were quite evident. Pulling the skirt up I inspected the suspender belt, something I hadn’t worn for many years, and the stockings, which were light tan, fifteen denier, I seemed to recall.
I occasionally wear stockings, largely because Kevin, along with most men, loves them and I like to please him now and then, but they have been hold-ups for many years now. As well as being more practical and easy to wear, I had always felt they were not only sexier looking, for when Kevin undressed me, but also sexier for me. As I looked at the white lacy suspender belt through the pink, net-like knickers I began to have my doubts. There really was something hugely erotic about the suspenders themselves snaking through the knickers and reaching down the fronts and sides of my upper legs to grip the tops of the stockings.
When I had first tried them on I was a little disappointed at the stockings. I had in recent times at least, including the visit to the Falcon, been used to long stockings the tops of which almost touched my fanny. The tops of these, even with the suspenders shortened, only reached just above about half-way between my knee and groin. I thought they looked odd so I searched on the net. Googling ‘stockings’ brought me a host of information and loads of pictures, including lots of porn. Particular from looking at the pictures of Velma Kelly in the musical Chicago and the girls in ‘Nine’ a film I had just seen, I concluded that short stockings, though possibly slightly old fashioned, were also very sexy. I also concluded that my recently discovered bi-sexual feelings could also extend to women other than Sammi.
I had my back to the mirror and I was looking over my shoulder checking out the seams on the stockings when the door opened.
“Come on we’re ready,” Sammi said.
I followed her back into the little lobby and she opened the middle door for me. “Go on,” she said holding it open.
I walked into the room. I thought it was big, but couldn’t really tell as it was almost dark apart from a patch in the middle which was lit by a dim spotlight in the ceiling casting a pool of light probably ten feet or so in diameter. In that patch there was just a chair. It was a straight backed, wooden chair. There was nothing else. I didn’t know what to do. I turned to look at Sammi for instructions but she said very sharply “Look at the chair.” I did. I heard movement behind me and made out that someone had entered the room. Although I couldn’t see, I heard movements on either side of the room in the darkness, suggesting that more than one person had come in. The door clicked shut behind me and Sammi came and stood behind me and slightly to the side. She put her hands on my shoulders.
“You remember Jo don’t you Sammi?” She said as the woman who had made me cum in the Falcon moved into that patch of light.
“Oh yes, of course,” I replied.
“Hello Amanda,” Jo said.
“Hi,” I replied.
Jo was tall and slim and dressed all in black. She was wearing a silk blouse with most of the buttons undone down the front meaning that she revealed most of her small breasts as she moved. As in the pub when she had worn a white shirt undone to a similar amount, she didn’t even appear to be conscious of the show she was putting on. She was wearing black trousers, which were very tight and may even have been leggings, but I couldn’t see properly. They were tucked into knee length, high heeled boots,
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