Martha, Dylan and Me

Story Info
She's seduced by her boyfriend's mother for threeway fun.
5.3k words
4.3
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20

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/14/2008
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This is a story about my boyfriend's mother and me, just as much as it is a story about how I became who I am, a bisexual who loves BDSM. Well, in truth I am probably a hetero girl who likes other girls, who likes to play with them and likes them to play with me. In truth I like men, I like their bodies, their hard penises and the things that they do to me. But for now, this is a story of how I discovered the glory of soft curves, of a woman's touch, of her silky places and how I came to enjoy and even look forward to being seduced by other women.

*

When summer came Dylan's mother invited me to holiday with her in the Mediterranean. I thought that it was a great idea, assuming that I would be spending most of my time with Dylan. But Dylan was not invited. I waited at the station but Dylan never came. When I declared that Dylan was going to miss the train Martha, Dylan's Mother told me he wasn't coming, that it was just us, a holiday for us girls. I was a little shocked. But I didn't disembark, I just stood by the door looking out through the little window as normality passed me by. I didn't know it then, but I was going on a journey that would change me forever.

I was on my way to Greece with my boyfriend's mother. For me the entire venture was straight forward enough, safe, however, I never knew that Martha was a complete sexual deviant. Later I found out that she gave Byron his first head job as an eighteenth birthday present and that was just the start, Martha had no limits.

We had only just surfaced in France when Martha introduced the topic that they would be bound to for the remainder of their holiday. Sex and sexual fulfillment, the things that a young women needed to know about men and about themselves before they committed to marriage. At first I feared the onset of an arcane sex talk, something guaranteed to ruin my vacation. Little did I know that Martha had experienced virtually every sexual activity imaginable, enjoyed sex daily and more importantly believed that sex was the gateway to eternal happiness.

The train ambled through the mountains, swaying gently as Martha asked me to describe my sexual experience. I could feel the heat rise in my face as my embarrassment overcame me. Martha smiled and said,

'I assume that you are a virgin. Am I correct?'

'Well I don't think that...' I tried to avoid answering without being rude.

'Am I correct?' Martha's directness was underlined with a stern tone.

'Yes... Yes I am.' Was all I could say.

'It is unusual for a girl your age, but it is all the better for you. There is nothing worse for a healthy sex life than developing bad habits, getting used to lazy, lay back sex or learning to be satisfied with less than wonderful erotic adventures.'

I was so embarrassed, I just sat there with my knees together, my hands in my lap and my eyes lowered.

'Oh, come now, don't be shy girl. There is only one thing better than being a virgin, and that is being sexually emancipated, free to enjoy everything that your body and your partner's body has to offer. And believe me anything less than sexual satisfaction should be considered a crime against our humanity.'

I had always been interested in sex. I had peeked into the showers once or twice when we were at camp, and even looked at some blue movies, but Martha was Dylan's mother. If she was closer to my age, like an older sister maybe I would have been happy to chat but this just seemed wrong.

To my surprise I started to feel more relaxed. Martha started telling me about a boy she knew when she was sixteen, how he was madly in love with her, how she flirted with him and how she made him wait. Martha told me how when her eighteenth birthday came round she took him by the hand and raced round to a little shed behind the barn. She told me how fast her heart was beating, how she could hardly breath, how she pushed the young man to his knees, lay back opened her legs and pressed his sweet face in between her legs. She said it still made her pussy tingle to think of how he licked her, how from licking her virgin sex he came in his pants. She never told me his name or that he was her brother. She never told me that she went into his room every night and squatted over his face so that he could kiss her goodnight, or that he was only ever allowed to tough her with his mouth. Had she have told me I would have ran, ran away as fast as I could, but she didn't tell me. The way she told the story it was so sweet, the coming of age and the innocence in which she became a woman.

That days were long and the stories incredible. Martha told me how she found another young man willing to masturbate in front of her as long as she let him look at her pussy. Ropes of thick white cum spurted from his penis as Martha watched. But soon he wanted more, so she refused to see him outside church. Still he tried. So Martha made a new contract, if he could make himself come while sitting in church, so that his cum squirted onto the floor she would let him slide his hand down between her legs, feel her wetness and even tweak her clitoris, but he was not allowed to force his fingers up into her vagina. Sunday morning, the church was half empty. They say in the back row and he rubbed himself. Martha said she drew her skirt up high on her thighs as encouragement, that she never showed him her pussy until after he shot his load.

'At first,' she said, 'it was nice. His hand cupped my body so perfectly, his fingers slid up and down and my wetness covered him, but then he pushed his middle finger into my vagina. Not very far, but enough for me to note his intrusion. I stood up, pushing him away. I caused a bit of a commotion. Everyone knew that he had done something. I never entertained him again.' Martha's voice was resolute, but tinged ever so slightly with regret.

Martha's ability to talk about fooling about with all of those men as though it was good and natural, that it was everyday, right and proper, made me feel more at home with the topic. Eventually I risked a question.

'So did it hurt, your first time?'

'Yes it did as a matter of fact, but I don't remember it for that. I remember the incredible orgasm that followed the pain. My partner was very experienced, he knew just what to do. I was so aroused that when I impaled myself on his penis I just started to come. It was something to remember.'

All of a sudden it dawned on me, this is why Dylan hadn't been invited. Martha wanted to tell me things that she could not say in front of her son. Little did I know that the reason she couldn't say those things with Dylan present is that she thought it would have been to embarrassing for me, not that she would have been embarrassed. Once I got over the shock, Martha's sex talk was quite entertaining, and often very comical. One thing was for sure the holiday was going to be an education whether I wanted one or not.

Together we were jostled to and fro as trains changed tracks, as we changed trains and eventually resorted to a taxi. The house was perched high on a hill overlooking the water, the grounds were surrounded by a high wall, the only entrance was guarded by heavy iron gates. It was an impressive place, that was for sure. The gates opened the taxi drove in. No sooner had we removed our luggage than a young woman appeared dressed in black, wearing a white apron and the taxi disappeared through the gates. She invited us into a small sitting room while the porter took our luggage to our respective rooms. After taking drinks the maid escorted us to our rooms. In all my life I had never seen such a lavish room, it had a massive carved timber bed with mother of pearl inlay, chairs and writing desk to match. The fireplace was enormous, as was the mirror that stood over the marble mantle. Angels looked down from the corners of the ceiling, each with a bow and arrow. It was a romantic room by any account.

I walked to the window, which was in fact a pair of doors that opened onto a small wrought iron balcony. As I opened the doors I could see more than a dozen young women sun bathing by a rectangular pool. They were completely naked, and to my surprise many of them had no pubic hair at all. What kind of place is this? I wondered as I stood and looked out at the naked beauties. Well that would explain the high walls, I concluded as Martha entered my room. 'So what do you think?' Martha enquired.

'Interesting scenery,' I observed.

Martha approached the opening, stood beside me and looked out at the naked girls soaking up the sun.

'Oh the sun is so good here,' she said, 'we'll be sure to get a nice tan before we go home.'

I must say I was a little shocked, but didn't know why. The conversation on the train should have prepared me for just about anything.

'Are there any men here?' I dared ask.

'Oh never, its just us girls, you have nothing to fear other than being seen in your birthday suit.' Martha smiled at my apparent nervousness. 'Besides with a lovely body like yours, you should be happy to show off. I was beautiful once but never really enjoyed it as much as I should have. Anyway, while you're here you're a stranger to everyone. No last names, or even first names if it makes you feel better. Either way no one will ever tell tales about you.'

When I thought about it I was sure that no-one would really care about another naked stranger, but I didn't understand why I should go naked in the first place. I never really thought about it before.

Martha returned to her room allowing me to take a shower in peace. The hot water caressed my tired body. As I stood and enjoyed the soap and the steam I was feeling kind of sexy, as though I had permission. I confess that my hands lingered in places that they would normally have brushed over. But it felt so nice. My nipples were tingling, almost too intense to touch but amazing at the same time. And Between my legs felt so different. My labia was swollen, puffy and sensitive. I had never felt myself like that before and the slick wetness, it was like thick syrup, slippery and pungent to the smell. I wasn't really masturbating, just exploring the sensations. Anyway my meditation was disturbed by a maid who came into the bathroom, gathered up all of my clothes and replaced them with a robe.

I washed my hair and shaved my underarms before turning my attention to my bikini line. I had brought a new bikini and had a wax before I left. I used that warm wax you heat in the microwave oven. I just didn't want a bunch of pubic hairs sticking out the sides, that's all. I still had hair down the sides of my vulva, right down between my legs and I never even tried to wax around my anus. I wasn't concerned about the small patch of hair, but it was still quite bushy. I thought that I should probably give myself a bit of a trim just incase I was expected to go naked. After getting out of the shower and drying off I took a small pair of scissors from her toiletry bag and trimmed short my pubic hair. It looked nice and compact, but still gave me some cover. Better safe than hairy, I joked to myself.

I didn't see much point putting on a robe when it was broad day light outside, besides I had brought several sets of clothes I was dying to try. But when I got to my suitcases they were almost completely empty, but for a few books, and a little makeup. I felt suddenly nervous, no clothes, for God sake, no clothes, I said over and over in my mind as I tried to come to grips with her inevitable nakedness.

A few minutes passed before I heard a knock at the door.

'Are you decent?' it was Martha.

'No I'm not, my clothes are all gone,' exasperation telling in my voice.

'Just put the robe on,' came Martha's voice through the thick timber door.

I went to gather the robe as she heard Martha ask if she could come in.

'I suppose so, but I'm not happy.'

'Why what's the matter dear?'

'I would like to have known about this whole nudity thing before coming. I mean its not quite what I expected.' I hadn't quite made it to the bathroom when Martha entered the room. I stopped and turned, my hands on my hips displaying my malcontent, ironically unaware that I was standing stark naked in front of Dylan's mother.

Silence filled the air as I clenched my jaw, and looked into Martha's eyes. Martha looked back, her expression was somehow forgiving, compassionate and full of understanding. I felt as though I disappointed my guardian. I lowered my gaze and took a deep breath as my hands slipped from my hips.

'Sometimes it's better to ask forgiveness,' Martha said, but never completed the saying. 'I never wanted you to say no.' Martha paused for a moment, sadness filled her eyes. 'Many times I wished that I had been set free from my inhibitions before I got involved with sex, it would have made life that much easier, that much more fun. Forgive me Helen, by hook or by crook I wanted to give you something special.'

I didn't know what to say. It felt uncomfortable, wrong maybe, I didn't know. Special, I wondered, it doesn't feel special, just silly, I thought to myself.

I put my robe on and joined Martha who seemed happy to have my company.

'So what's so special about going naked?' I asked.

'Oh there's nothing particularly special about being naked, but there is something special about being free from shame. You see we are taught from the time that we are little girls that we shouldn't touch this or that, or let other people see certain things. "Sit with your knees together," all of that sort of thing. Being set free from all of that is one of the greatest gifts anyone can give you.'

I smiled, as I thought about all of the 'be lady like' speeches I had ever heard. Modesty had become part of my nature. I could still hear my great aunt saying "You can never be too careful, there were perverts everywhere." Quite the contrast.

'Going naked might be ok in a house surrounded by a high wall free from men, but out in the big wide world, you can't throw modesty to the wind.' I said quite sure of myself.

'No-one is asking you too. There is always a place for perfect modesty, just as there is a place for immodesty. There is nothing wrong with lifting your skirt and spreading your legs wide providing you do not offend anyone who sees what you have to show.'

'Surely you are not suggesting that it is proper to go around flashing perfect strangers.'

'Its not the perfect strangers that you have to watch it's the people you know that cause the most harm. But no, I'm not suggesting that you cheapen yourself. I'm simply saying that you should never feel guilty for exposing yourself, providing you do it in an appropriate context.' Martha had a certain gentle wisdom about her. Life had certainly taught her things most people were scared to even think about.

During the day I saw very little of Martha over the next week or so. She often came to say good night and to talk to me about my day. After a couple of days Martha suggested that I should try to exercise my imagination, as having an active imagination was critical to having a good sex life. I was a little embarrassed when Martha told me that I should masturbate at least once a day while exercising my imagination. At least Martha never talked about technique. I was grateful for small mercies. Nevertheless, I was quite surprised, after the initial embarrassment ebbed away the whole idea didn't seem so bad. Martha explained that fantasies are just that, fantasies, and that they need never be played out in reality and that there was nothing wrong with exercising 'hands on imagination.'

Martha had a way of making the whole subject seem so very normal, essentially human, and above all worthy of discussion. After a few sessions listening to Martha talk about sexual fantasies and so on I found it relatively easy to ask questions, and even ask questions about the link between sexual fantasies, arousal and sexuality. I had come to think that Martha was right; helping me discover myself, my inner sexual self, was indeed a special gift.

♂♀

The next fortnight had many surprises for me. I got used to and even looked forward to sun bathing naked with the other girls. At first having oil rubbed over her back, legs and bottom by the other girls felt positively weird, as did rubbing oil onto the other girls, but after a while it became somewhat ordinary. It even felt quite nice. I got a lovely all over tan as did the other girls. But I was a little wary of a couple of girls who delighted in exploring a little too far. Eventually the more adventurous girls teamed up. They rubbed oil over each other's fronts as well as backs. They teased the other girls as they massaged each other. A week after arriving my robe disappeared. They all ate breakfast dinner and tea naked, walked in the garden, played cards, and read books naked. I was amused at how quickly everyone got used to going naked, and on reflection I had to smile at how even she seemed not to care nor notice the other girls.

I was probably most embarrassed when the 'Grand Mistress', Martina took me to one side and gave her a lesson on masturbation. At first I didn't know where to look, and certainly never wanted to masturbate in front of another woman. Martina encouraged me to watch her technique and then go and try it in private. She was right, this is great, I thought as I enjoyed the new technique. Over the following weeks she had a number of lessons, and practiced her technique along with the other girls. It was great. Martina talked about her g-spot and the difference between vaginal orgasms and clitoral orgasms, she even showed them how to double up, having a virginal orgasm first and then a clitoral orgasm was the best. Martina assured all of the girls that masturbation was something that every woman should become expert at. Martina promised the girls that she would teach them how to achieve female ejaculation, she said it was healthy, incredibly intense and always fun.

I was intrigued with the whole female ejaculation thing, but would have to wait until I became proficient at pleasing myself by more ordinary methods. I was no stranger to the thrill of orgasm, as I had my first orgasm as a young girl. At the time I didn't know what it was, I just swung ever higher on a swing in the playground, I was busting for a wee, but did not want to stop, as I swung higher and higher, I rocked my body back and lifter my legs high in front of me only to lean forward as I swung back. I felt a funny, warm feeling in my secret place, the feeling got bigger until I felt like she was going to wee my pants and then my whole body went funny, I closed my eyes as the feeling took over me. It was scary at first, but nothing bad happened. It was my secret. After a while I visited the swings every day. Sometimes I would deliberately not go to the toilet so that I could visit the park on the way home from school. Occasionally I would wee my pants before I could get to the toilet, but even that seemed to feel nice after being on the swing. Only after I reached puberty did I ever touch myself and I never allowed anyone else to see me touch my private parts.

But now, self discovery was proving more difficult. I wanted to explore my body further, but I was still a virgin. Some of the other girls pushed two or three fingers up their vaginas, one of the women used two fingers from the front and two from around the back. Her legs were spread and I could clearly see her fingers disappear deep inside her. She stretched her opening so that I could see inside her.

'Doesn't that hurt?' I asked.

'No it feels great,' she replied, 'you should try it.'

One finger was all that Helen could manage, and even then it hurt. Helen wanted to go further, but wanted Dylan to take her virginity. Maybe after that she could find her g-spot. And then she could work toward achieving the illusive female ejaculation.

12