"Thank you. It's so many years since I had that pleasure, Thomas. You'll never know how much this means to me." She was still sobbing and the tears were still flowing. "Forgive me for the tears. It's hard to explain but very important for me. Hold me now, please, Thomas."
I lay on the bed and she clung to me, sobbing still, and I was completely out of my depth, emotionally and sexually. Nothing in life had prepared me for this and my erection was beginning to wane. As if realising it, she reached down and took hold of my briefs, and pushed them out of the way so that she could hold my somewhat-less-stiff penis. She pushed and pulled the skin over the tip, so that I revived and she looked into my eyes from her position on the pillow.
"Now I'm yours. Anything you want. Shall I undress for you?"
I reached down myself and pushed the briefs off my hips and down to my ankles, and off into the bed somewhere.
"No. Stay dressed for me, please."
She lay on her back in her black corsetry and still in her high heels, which were to stay on her feet for the rest of the night. I played with her body through her corsetry, rubbing and massaging her breast and waist, and slowly down to her groin, between her legs and to the running wetness of her vagina. She was ready for anything a man could or would do. I entered her as she looked up into my eyes through her own tears, and she smiled softly and fondly at me. Her hands were up on the pillow again, as she opened herself for my pleasure. I moved and plunged into her with increasing pace and force until she closed her eyes and her body was shaken all over the bed but I was determine not to come yet. I wanted a great deal more of this lovely woman.
Over the next many hours of the night, she gave me all and I played with her body and her corsetry. When I was kneeling behind her, I held onto the suspenders or the bottom edge of her girdle. When I was lying on her from behind, I reached round and held her breasts through the boning and the fabric of her firm long bra. When I lay behind her like two spoons, I held her waist and could feel the heavy pressure on her body from the girdle and the bra combined. Standing behind her at the bed-edge, I could hold onto her shapely and girdle-confined hips, and that is where I eventually came in her with a mighty gush of my fluids. She was wet throughout all my movements with her, and never spoke except to say "Yes" or sometimes "Yes, please" and just once she said close to my ear, “Shag me, Thomas. Shag me. Shag me. Do what you want.” It occurred to me that she’d never used the word “fuck” in her life, but her meaning was quite clear.
Her orgasms came from her playing on herself with her hands and were always explosive. When I tried to play on her clitoris with my own hands, she gently pushed me away and did it for herself. I was content to let her please herself in the way she liked best.
She went to empty her bladder twice in the night but always came straight back to me, to the same position she'd left and didn’t bother drying herself. I felt at her both times and thrust my hand into her labia to feel the moisture and to make her ready for my next entry.
I buried my head between her legs on two occasions and licked her labia, sucked on her vagina, and nibbled at her clitoris, so that she came to gigantic orgasms both times. I realised that my hands would be useless in pleasing her by comparison to my tongue and lips. It was a lesson that I relearned every time we met in future.
As dawn began to appear in her window, she said, "Please undress me now."
She got out of the bed and I could see that the stockings hadn’t survived. They were as wrecked as her panties had been 12 hours earlier. She’d worn her shoes all through the night, so I took them off and undid the remains of stockings from the suspenders, pulling them off her. The bra came off as a damp item of underwear, with my sweat as well as hers. I played and nuzzled her breasts again without confinement, and she held me head to her nipples as I sucked and nibbled at them. She shuddered and it seemed that she'd come to another orgasm but I could hardly believe that. I've wondered about it since.
The girdle was also damp and took me many minutes to remove. I slowly pushed down the zipper until all the hooks were exposed. One by one, I undid the eight hooks and she was standing there in front of me with only this open item of clothing between us. Slowly I took the top edge, bent it over, and started to fold it down her body until it was inside out at her knees. Then I kneeled and she stepped out of it. Her skin was marked by the seams and the bones of her girdle. Her bottom and thighs were red and stung with my paddling. I ran my hand over the marks and laid it gently on her lovely buttocks and she winced slightly.
I said, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you."
"I told you to hurt me, so say no more," she smiled, "how else was I to get my greatest pleasure? You may never understand but now you know what I want."
As I rose, she held me close to her, feeling our skins against each other for the first time. Our excitement began to build again and we returned to the bed, but we were both spent. We held each other and kissed, and let our hands roam over each other's bodies. She kissed every inch of my skin from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, including inside my ears and right on my anus. She took my testicles into her mouth and sucked them gently, and then kissed all along my floppy penis and over my groin.
In return, I did the same to her and revelled in her shapeliness and the responsiveness of her body. She made little mewing sounds as I progressed over her skin, which I started at her toes. At the end we were kissing each other faces again and so we fell asleep.
For the next four years, we made love whenever I visited my home town and that became rather more frequent. My mother never knew why I wanted to visit Auntie Barbara, and assumed I'd developed a sense of family responsibility for the "black sheep". Barbara showed me new ways to please her but always with her corsetry taking the prime place in all that we did. She always insisted on wearing those clothes when we were together and when I entered her. The paddling was always over the firmest girdle or other corsetry she possessed. Inside her firm foundations, she was open to my full hand and many nights we slept for a time with my hand inside her after she was full of my seminal fluids and lots of lubricant. Gradually I had to replace all her corsetry because we wrecked it, piece after piece, until her collection was merely a set of bones held together with remnants of fabric and hooks. It was worth it, every price-tag and every minute spent looking for her increasingly rare styles. If I had more space, I could recount the history of each item of the diverse corsetry that she wore and how it fitted into our loving times.
After ten years, she still tells me, “You’re the only person and the only thing that excites me these days, dear Thomas. Please never stop touching me and feeling at me.” I always find out exactly what corsetry she’s wearing. She always revels in my hands roaming over her girdled still-shapely body, discovering her underwear and the tightness that she insists on wearing still. She likes to explore me and play with my body. We don’t do the hard spanking any more but she talks to me about it, recounting some of her most memorable times and helping me to understand her needs and her wants. We please each other very much indeed.