The Weather Girl Ch. 03

This is a continuation of the story.

Chapter 2 was a year of change for everyone. The kinky Betty Bucher—Weather Girl became a widow. Her son, Robbie—my best friend, took a job in California after graduating from Princeton. Beautiful Carol (sister/aunt) became human (former real bitch) but still lives in Chicago.

I became a civilian (Whew!!); got accepted to my hometown university outside of Philly; moved into a new townhouse with some of the inheritance from my parents estate.

At the request of Robbie and Carol stopped in to keep Betty company and make sure she was getting along.

I also had all of my body hair removed in a very sensual process prior to returning home from Miami.

Betty, my fantasy, has started to drop sexual innuendos about my "filthy" mind while my actions are doing little to deserve such a tag.

On my last visit, Betty took a clean, heavily scented, and "juice" stained cloth from a stack in her bedside drawer to dab my nervous face as she showed me Jim's (now deceased) taste in clothes as part of her helping me put a new, civilian wardrobe together.

In the process, I came across Jim's "silk and satin" undies thinking they were Betty's. She wrote down the address of the web boutique from which they were purchased along with the other stores Jim shopped.

Betty's last request was to keep coming. Our story picks up from this last scene...

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When I closed the drawer Betty said, "I hope you liked his things. You will find them to be very pleasant to the body."

Finished we went back to the porch and our wine. There wasn't much of a conversation anymore, just a bit of awkward tension as Betty kept glancing at my wet spot. I kind of chugged my wine and told her I had to go.

Standing, Betty took both of my hands in hers and kissed me softly on the lips. "Douglas, thank you for coming over. I so do look forward to your visits. Please don't stop coming."

All I could say was, "I won't stop coming."

Betty smiled and retrieved the clothing list from the table. "Good, I like it when you come." She looked me in the eyes and handed me the list.

That night I came in quarts; over and over again right into the stained cloth Betty gave me. I held the cloth to my mouth and lapped at the stains made fresh by my cum. I kept hearing Betty say, "Douglas, you filthy, filthy man."

Awaking the next morning I found Betty's cloth still wrapped around my cock. It was a bit sticky but it drew my attention back to the previous evening. I thought about her walk, the comments and her general air. It wasn't a direct advance. It could just be my perverted mind. After all she did call me a filthy man. In itself the phrase was a tease or was it more of a knowing mind slap from a close friend? Hell, I have her pictures. I know what she is like. Why was I afraid?

I got out of bed and made some coffee. I really liked my townhouse. Thinking of the day ahead, I decided to get some stuff for the place and go shopping for some new clothes. I went to the bedroom and got the list Betty made. Over coffee I reviewed it. From the looks of it I could hit most of the shops at one mall. The website for the "silks and satins" was written in red and had hearts on either side of the address with a note from Betty, "Douglas, you'll love the site and the feel of the intimates! Love, Betty."

Becoming a bit aroused, I smiled. If this wasn't an advance, then I'm an idiot. So what are you going to do about it? My "filthy" thoughts were broken by the ring of the phone. Getting up, I glanced at the caller ID...Betty....speaking of the devil. I answered like I didn't know who it was.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Douglas. Sleep well?" came a very husky voice.

"Uh....yeah," I replied trying to act confused, "whom may I ask is this?"

There was a slight pause on the other end and then Betty's voice, a bit more business like then her greeting spoke. "Douglas, this is Betty. I was calling to make sure the web address I gave you was written down properly." She then proceeded to spell it out. Sounding a bit more friendly but distant, she ended with a quick good-bye and hung up.

"Fuck!" my mind screamed. My little pretend act just scared away my fantasy woman. "Doug, you are such an asshole." I reprimanded myself. "Asshole, asshole, asshole!" Should I call her back? No, what would be my purpose? I'd only blow myself in! Yes, because I sensed something was wrong; which would only lead back to why I shouldn't. In the end, I did nothing. I'd figure something out.

Looking at the clock, if I took a quick shower, I could get to the mall right after it opens. Hey, I'd buy some clothes and stop by Betty's to show her. It would be sort of like making up. I thought about the website and went into the study for a quick "look-see."

"Holy shit!" I re-read the address to make sure it was correct. Yeah, the address was right, but the site was for high end women's intimate apparel.

The images were very erotic and it didn't take long for my cock to respond. Coming across images of Jim's "silks and satins" told me he had a thing for hipsters with boy legs. Thinking back, I didn't really think they were women's panties when I saw them last night. I just thought they were skimpy men's undies. Unless these ladies were transsexuals, the bulge in their panties was from their mounds, which made my cock rise a bit more. I love the look.

There were a couple of problems however. First, all the items were in women's sizes and I didn't have a clue how my body would translate to a woman's. The second was the price! Good thing the Bucher's had money because this stuff was expensive, but then again, good stuff always is. Since these were intimates, the policy was no return and without knowing my size, I wasn't going to spend the dough. Right before I logged off, I saw a category called "specialty." I clicked on it and lo and behold....a gold mine of kink.

Here were all the intimates locked up in Betty's suitcase: rubber, latex, pvc, toys, whips, dildos, ointments. The end of my cock was touching the underside of the computer table by this time. I knew I had to figure out my size and soon. I logged out and went to shave and shower.

As I soaped myself, I felt a little stubble on my body. From the shower shelf I took the hair removal crème and lathered up my body. My mind thought of Jennifer, the technician who did this for me in Miami. I smiled because I always thought of her every time I did this. As I rubbed my body, I stroked my cock and rubbed my ass and bud like she did. I let my hands stray everywhere. Pinching my nipples sent me into a euphoric state. Inserting one, then two fingers into my ass, I started fucking myself. I needed more up my ass and I remembered how Robbie fucked me over break, which seemed like an eternity ago.

My strokes were becoming longer and tighter over my cock and I cupped its head and moved my hand around it. Ecstasy! How I loved sex; I couldn't get enough. I pushed my fingers deeper into my ass and then added two more.

The sudden stretching of my anus pushed me over the top. I came into my hand. Out of my mind in lust, I brought my hand to my mouth and started to lick the cum from my fingers. The splashing shower water mixed with the cum and I swallowed.

Those fingers were replaced by the ones shoved up my ass. The tart acid taste of my essence was hypnotic. As the shower water started to chill, I wondered how long I was in there.

I finished quickly and dried off. I put on my last pair of clean briefs, a pair of jeans and polo shirt. Finishing up with grooming, I grabbed my watch, wallet and Betty's list. Pouring a "to-go" cup, I was off to the mall.

Hitting the stores on the list, I went at it like a typical guy. I need two of these, four of those, a couple pair of slacks, shirts, belts, shoes and socks. Money was leaving my wallet faster than a dam collapsing. My last store was an upscale boutique specializing in fine outerwear for both men and women.

I was greeted by a very lovely sales clerk. She was tall, about five feet ten inches and her body was very slender. Her black nylon clad legs set in three inch heels trailed north into a tight three quarter length camel skirt. A tin black belt with a silver clasp hung loosely around her waist. A black, long sleeve silk turtle neck was tucked neatly into the skirt and her long dark-coal colored hair cascaded over her shoulders. Extending her hand she said with just the proper amount of business, "Good afternoon, my name is Sonya. How may I be of assistance to you today?"

I looked into her eyes and was smitten.

Her eyes were hazel and she wore black liner and mascara accompanied by the softest pink eye shadow blending into a warm pumpkin. Pink gloss adorned her lips and matched the nails at the end of her slender fingers. Her skin was smooth and cream toned. She was perfect with one exception....her breasts....actually no exceptions and I'll tell you why.

Her chest was flat as a board...except for two of the most erotic nipples I have ever seen. Both of her areolas were puffy; about the size of a watch face, and in the middle of each was a small pointed nipple. It was an incredible turn on.

She obviously knew she was flat. She obviously knew what her nipples looked like. She had to know the image they produced on her clothes. Most women would wear a padded bra. She wore none. Combine the look with her beauty, grace and confidence and it was no wonder I made an ass of myself.

I shook her hand like some sort of hayseed and said, "My name is Doug and I want to buy some clothes."

A slight chuckle came from Sonya and she replied, "Well, you're in the right place. What sort of clothes did you have in mind?"

I felt like such an idiot but couldn't help smiling. I set my packages down and removed the list from my jeans' pocket. As I was studying it, Sonya came to my side and looked at it also, one hand gently touching my wrist and the other my shoulder.

"Quite a list. Let's see, you want a sport coat and a leather jacket. What size are you?" she inquired.

"I'm not sure and I have a question for you. How does one find all their measurements?" I asked sincerely as we walked over to the sport coats.

"I usually just try things on because different clothiers have different cuts for the same size. Why?" she asked.

"I was looking at stuff on line and they kept asking for my size." I muttered without pushing the topic and it was dropped.

I bought a Harris-tweed sport coat along with a camel brown leather jacket. It must have been the color of her skirt swaying me. While checking out she asked if there was anything else I needed. Her face then scrunched into thought and she looked at me. "Let me see your list." It wasn't a demand as much as it was a question. I gave it to her and she studied it for a minute and a very knowing grin crossed her lips.

Sonya handed me back the list and simply rang up the purchase. She swiped my credit card through the reader. As the transaction was processing, Sonya reached under the counter and brought up her purse and rummaging through removed a card from a side pocket. She then opened one of the counter drawers and took something out. Sonya busily wrote on a slip of paper while I signed the receipt. She took the receipts, compared the signatures, and gave me the card and my copy of the receipt.

Speaking in a very soft and knowing voice, "Douglas, I figured out why you need to know your measurements. I recognized the web address because I shop on-line there also."

My face was becoming flushed because I knew why she called me Douglas.

"Don't be embarrassed. Betty was right, you will love the feel. Here is a chart to help you. This side shows where to measure and this side," flipping over the chart, "makes the conversion." Handing me the chart, the paper and what she pulled from the drawer, Sonya continued, "You can have this tape measure and I've written another site you might enjoy on the paper."

Ours hands touched, Sonya smiled and spoke, "I don't want to sound too forward and I don't know your relationship with Betty, but if you are ever interested, I'd love to share a coffee with you sometime. My name and phone are at the bottom."

I melted and glanced at the paper. Sonya Demarco. I smiled. Putting the things in my bag, I stuttered, "I'd love to. I will call you. Tomorrow!" Again I felt like a fool.

She smiled back and said, "Tomorrow it is."

Leaving the mall in seventh heaven, I found my way back to the car. Putting everything in the back seat, I climbed in and drove away with the image of Sonya fresh in my mind. "She thinks I wear panties and she's cool with it. In fact she wants to have coffee with me. Yeah!! I'll call her first thing in the morning. This is fucking great!" I had no idea where I driving and found myself heading in the wrong direction. Composing myself, I turned at the next intersection and redirected the car towards Betty's.

Betty. I hadn't really thought about her for awhile. I need to find out if she is mad and it'll make her happy to know I went shopping at the stores she recommended. Twenty minutes later, I pulled into her wrap around drive which cut through heavy woods. The Bucher's had some cash. I parked, went to the front door and rang the doorbell. After a few minutes, I rang it again thinking she might not have heard the bell. Wondering where she may be, I moved into the bushes to peer through her front window.

As I was bent over staring, Betty's voice barked, "Douglas, are you now a Peeping Tom? What a filthy, filthy man you are."

There was the same statement; "filthy, filthy man."

"Hi! I'm sorry, I wasn't sure if you were home. I just went to the mall and bought some clothes. I thought you might want to see them."

"I'd love to, but Douglas, you need to do me a favor. Until you are told otherwise, call before you stop by."

I felt like I was intruding for the first time. "I'm sorry. I can come back later." Stumbling out of the bushes apologetically, I was greeted by a goddess standing in the doorway dressed in only a thin mid thigh robe. The robe clung to her breasts and I could distinctly see her nipples protruding. (Two great nipple shots in the same day.)

"No, no, please stay. I'd love to see your things. It's just I was in the middle private intimate pleasures. A call or message would give me time to finish and prepare for your arrival. Bring your things into the kitchen and pour us a wine. I'll throw on some other clothes and be right down."

Betty turned and the air lifted her robe. My cock jumped as I saw the shine of her rubber panties. She glanced back over her shoulder and blew me a sly, lustful kiss.

Gathering my things from the back of the car, my head was reeling. Betty was masturbating in her rubber outfit when I rang the bell. I was shaking at the thought of this beauty doing herself. What was she doing: dildos, vibrators?

I entered her house and went to the kitchen setting the packages on the table. Taking two wine glasses from the rack over her built in island; I walked around to the wine cooler and took out a bottle of chardonnay. Betty had good taste in wine. After pouring two glasses, I took a big sip from mine and topped it off.

As I sat at the island enjoying my wine, faint noises were coming from upstairs. I envisioned Betty finishing what she had started. The "filthy, filthy man" in me walked quietly to the stairs. She was indeed finishing herself.

Lust overtook me. My cock was stiff at the thought of Betty masturbating. Starting up the stairs, I stopped. I turned and went back to the kitchen. Betty called this "private intimate pleasures." The wine glass was shaking as I took a big gulp to help calm myself down.

I heard what sounded like a whip crack and then a deep throated moan. This was too much, I just had to see.

Quickly and silently I went up the stairs. As I approached her room, I heard buzzing and Betty's moans getting louder. The door to her room was partially open and I carefully positioned myself in the hall to peer into the room.

On the floor in front of me was Betty. She was facing the door astride a Sybian machine grinding her hips into it as she rode the attached phallus. She was wearing her rubber crotchless panties along with a rubber corset which allowed her breasts to swing freely. Grinding, she was taking a small hand held rubber flogger across her breasts. Each crack brought a moan from her.

"You slut, you pig, you whore! Fuck my pussy you filthy, filthy man." My cock leaked into my shorts with her utterances, "you filthy, filthy man."

"Give it to me. Give it to me." She was out of control. Whip marks were all over her breasts. She started screaming:

"I need it... I want it... Give ....it ....to .....me .....now...you ....filthy ....filthy ....man ....whore ....slut ....cunt .....pig."

Throwing the whip down she leaned forward and stuck her hands into a stainless steel bowl just off to the side of her mount. Cum exploded from my cock and into my briefs as she removed her hands.

"Now you whore, do it now" she screamed, smearing shit all over her breasts.

Her hands moved to her neck and face, coating everywhere she touched with her brownness. Her body convulsed with her orgasms. Over and over she came. She didn't stop smearing herself with the brown paste. Bringing her fingers to her nose; she breathed in and shook with another orgasm. She stuck her fingers into her mouth, lapping and sucking the brown poo down her throat.

I nearly collapsed.

Making my way down the stairs, my mind was spinning. Cum was all over the front of my jeans. My cock was still rock hard. Betty was covered in shit and all I wanted to do was to go into her room and lick her clean. I WAS a filthy, filthy man. I knew I had some time to clean up as it would take Betty a while to clean up.

I went into the guest room bath and removed my clothes.

Cum was all over me. I took my off my briefs and cum leaked onto my hand. I couldn't use the towels, so I just licked it up. More cum leaked from my still hard cock. Luckily it fell onto the counter. I was going crazy. "Needed to clean up before Betty came down. How much time? What do I say? How do I hide it?" It took about ten minutes but I was finally clean except for my briefs which I used as a rag.

I lightly watered the front of my jeans and put them back on sans the briefs which I would hide in one of the shopping bags. I'd tell Betty wine spilled onto my lap. Looking in the mirror I looked composed again, but inside I was shaking from what just happened. Leaving the bath, I returned to the kitchen and my wine. I finished the glass quickly and poured another. Fifteen minutes later Betty came down the stairs, looking great.

She was wearing a tight pair of jeans and a white starched blouse with the collar raised. The front was open to just above her bra. Her make up and hair were perfect. Red lips and nails with a killer smile. Her spiked heels clicked on the kitchen floor when she entered. "Sorry I took so long," she said as she glided next to me, took my hands in hers and gave me a soft and gentle kiss on the lips. The same lips which lapped shit from her fingers about a half hour ago. My cock jumped and touched the wetness of its own stain made at the same time. "I really needed to finish what I was doing. I hope you aren't angry with me?" Betty said in a fake pout.

"No, I was just enjoying my wine." I lied. What I wanted to say, I couldn't: I came in my pants watching you whip yourself while grinding on a Sybian and then smearing shit on yourself sending you into multiple orgasms. Sure. I should have but something was stopping me. What I did say was stupid, "Want to see my new clothes?"

Betty smiled and let her hands slip from mine. "I'd love to Douglas. But first I think I need a glass of wine." She took the glass I had poured and sat down next to me.