A Letter from a Friend Ch. 02byexiledmaster©
I didn't expect your reply to be so positive, to be honest.
I expected you to disapprove, or to tell me I'm mad... Instead you were a friend. God, we forget don't we... Maybe it's part of growing into marriage that we forget about being young and not knowing about sex and life in general...
Remember that Jackie Collins book we read when we were in the fifth form? I think it was sexy because it talked about things we were sure mum and dad never did, like shagging a black guy who puts cocaine on his cock, but it had the effect of making clear that different sex, exotic sex, was stuff that happened on a boat in the south of France, not in Gateshead or Sunderland....
Except I'm writing to my best friend and telling her about sex that is happening to me, sex that is truly extraordinary...
You know what it's like, when you're nineteen and a memory takes you by surprise the next day; that's how I feel now. I was on the phone to Maddy today, negotiating to get my old job back now that Paul's gone and I need the money, and suddenly a memory popped into mind and I was soaking. Just like that, sitting there talking to the area sales manager and my mind had gone completely.
It's partly about G planting ideas in my head, but it's Kate as well. She sent me a text the day after we met in the club, and we swapped a couple of texts, and then we talked. G had gone back south, and I was at home, and the kids were in and out of the house... So I took the phone up to the bathroom and had a bath and talked to her while I was lying in the bath.
What did I expect? I don't know. She was chatty, and funny, and she seemed to like me even without knowing me. I said that to her. She had a sexy chuckle, a laugh that started down in her throat.
"You should be used to it Kate. To people who want to seduce you..."
And I thought 'seduce me?' She wants to seduce me? I giggled and tried to say something about she'd had me already, but she had an answer.
"Clubs are different. Clubs are for all comers. You never know what you'll get in a club and sometimes that's part of the fun. But other times you know what you want. I want you."
I'm awful at reporting dialogue Sue. It's so hard to remember the words when it's emotions you're feeling that make the most impression. I was turned on, and remembering her tongue, and her nipples between my lips, and her assertiveness, and my imagination was away and running. And she must have sensed it, because she began to talk to me again, providing words that were the commentary and the chorus to the images in my brain.
It's kind of hard to believe, that someone you barely know can plug into your brain ass easily and quickly as she did. It's not like with G; I knew him a long time before we started having cyber sex. He knew things about me, could talk to me about P D James novels or old sixties records (although I think he used to go away and read up on those before we chatted because he's got crap taste in music.) With G it was as if I was leading him on sometimes, waiting for him to say things I wanted him to say, leading him to places he wanted to go but wasn't sure what to say. With Kate...
With Kate it's as if she knows the things I want to hear. It's as if she has already explored the places I want to go to, and is setting out an itinerary for me. I love it and it's as sexy as hell.
Am I becoming a lesbian? No. Kate isn't a dyke, and neither am I. But the memory of her tongue on me, and the thought of her fingering and using me. There were things she told me as well, that I hadn't realised so clearly. That when she was playing with me in the club she was making sure that all of me was on show. That her husband told her when to stop...
Anyway, lying on the bath, one leg hooked over the edge, I made myself come. And I agreed to meet her. I hardly couldn't really.... In the process I found out some things about her as well. She's a probation officer; or rather, she was. She left probation work to work as an independent consultant on family law, writing reports on families where the parents can't agree on access or residency. She works as a sessional worker for the courts as well, but she likes her independence. Her husband's a barrister, so it's hardly a surprise that she gets load of work. It means she has free time during the week as well.
So that's how we ended up meeting in the Metro Centre. I didn't wear a rose in my jacket, or carry a copy of the Financial Times, but I did have a brief moment of 'how will she know me with my clothes on?' I knew her straight away. She was wearing a pale beige linen suit; heels to die for, and flesh toned stockings that matched her natural tan. Me? I'd gone for a long, flared, pale blue skirt, and a camisole top that looked relatively decent with a small cardigan over it. I felt underdressed, not in the showing off my body sense, but not as smartly dressed as her. It was a kind of reminder, that when I worked I was like Kate, dressed to kill all the time... Can I be honest Sue? I felt angry. I took time off work to nurse Paul after his accident, only for him to decide he needed to go and find himself once he recovered. So he gets to go and find himself, and I lost myself. I stood there and looked at my low heeled sensible but pretty shoes, and I thought 'Seduce me Kate? You don't know the half of it...'
We didn't dash off and have sex immediately, don't get me wrong... We walked around the shops for an hour, talked about each other, talked about clothes, talked about our lives,..., and talked about sex. She asked me what panties I was wearing, told me off for describing them as boring, then dragged me into La Senza where she bought three thongs. I didn't blush, I promise, but when the assistant asked what size Sue turned to me and asked '12 or 14 for you sweetheart?' and my stomach fluttered and I thought my groin's reaction must be written all over my face. The assistant didn't react, and part of me wanted her to, wanted her to look at me and wonder.
We stopped in a shoe shop as well and I bought two pairs of shoes; one pair of grey strappy shoes with three inch heels, the other a pair of black high heeled mules, real fuck me shoes. Sue asked me if I was going to wear them immediately; I smiled at her and promised to model them later. I thought I was being good at the flirting game, but she smiled sweetly, opend the bag from La Senza and handed me a thong; black lace, a pearl thong, unwearable except for sex, and said 'This thong, those shoes, my juices on your face...'
That was enough for me. We drove to her house, me following in my car, not wanting to miss a turning. She lives in a converted barn outside Hexham, very private, very peaceful. I love my house in the city, but if I had to live in the country then a south facing house with a private garden would be high on the list. We parked our cars to the side of the house, my Volvo behind her MX5, and she turned to wait for me.
Part of me is ashamed to tell you this stuff, Sue. Part of me is a bit turned on to tell you this. Part of me wouldn't mind if you were turned on by me telling you this. I just can't live with it inside me, can't live without telling someone.
She pulled my skirt up and pulled my sensible panties down. In the open air, by the side door of her house. I didn't object, just stepped out of the panties. The L shape of the house meant we couldn't be seen by passing cars, but if anyone came in the gate they would have seen me, skirt around my waist, naked below it, kissing a woman. I didn't want just to be passive, and ran my hands under her skirt, and found that she was naked above her stockings. And wet...
She could have stripped me there and had me on the gravel, between the Japanese maples that framed the doorway. She didn't, but it could have happened. Instead she led me into the kitchen, and stripped me there.
She handed me the pearl thong, and the bag with my fuck me shoes.
"You promised to model for me..." So I stripped, and put the shoes and the thong on. I did a twirl for her, turning to face out of the window, trying not to teeter on the unfamiliar heels. When I turned back to face her she was lying across the table, her skirt around her waist, her eyes closed, her heels propped on the table top so that she was spread open before me.
I never know how much detail to tell you Sue. Do you want me to tell you about how cold the slate floor tiles felt on my knees? Can I begin to explain the hoarse catch in her voice as she told me not to touch myself yet? Or the tremble I felt at that word yet? This is a theme Sue, the way I struggle to explain the sequence of events
once the action starts.
There's no doubting that I'm changing Sue as I do these things. She used her mobile phone to take a photo of me fingering myself, lying on the sofa with my feet on the coffee table. She sent it to her husband. Then she asked me if I wanted him as well.
Of course I did. I would have accepted anything she asked of me I think. She made me lick and finger her, made me worship her body as if I were somehow ssubservient to her. And I loved it.
And I loved it when she reciprocated; even the chemical scent of something on her hair as she nuzzled my breasts was special, and different to anything I'd experienced. We were exploring and enjoying, and she was showing off too.
Have you ever seen a strap on dildo Sue? Not just in pictures, but real life....
We both wanted the play to go on for ever, for the orgasms to continue and the sense of belonging and being desired to never stop. But time runs on, and her husband coming home was the perfect stopping point.
I was bent over the arm off a leather chaise longue at the time. She was fucking me with a strap on dildo. I was beyond caring. He simply unzipped, and shoved his cock in my mouth. I'd like to pretend it was somehow me taking charge, making love to him with my tongue and lips. I'd like to pretend I was relishing the feel of the woollen cloth of his trousers against my skin, but I was gone. I only regained my senses when the heat of his come spurted over my face.....
I had to leave of course, and I drove back to Durham burning up with shame, and guilt, and the thought that people might be able to see his come on my face, even though I'd scrubbed it with cleanser.
Then I got home, and bathed, and she rang, and I was safe, and warm, and wanted again... I felt guilty about not telling G immediately; he would have been so turned on. But maybe I'm moving on from G; I just don't know....
Think kindly of me Sue...
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