Amy's Lingerie Awakening Ch.01

~ Prologue ~

Amy stood on the doorstep, shaking with nerves and the cold which was blowing up and under her long overcoat. She was ever so cold. She raised a trembling finger and rang the doorbell. There was no answer for at least thirty seconds, and her nerves were sending her heart into overdrive. She turned away, about to flee when suddenly a cool and calm voice spoke.

"Ah, Amy, I'm glad you're here. Come in..."

She turned around hoping to see the older woman beckoning her in, but she had already begun to walk away, Amy could hear her high heels clanking down the hallway. She stepped inside, gulped then shut the door behind her.

"Upstairs", the voice commanded and Amy found her feet instantly responding. She walked up the stairs and saw a chink of candle light coming from a crack in the door. She walked forward and pushed it open to see a pink double bed, surrounded by candles with a video camera before the bed. The older woman in her late forties, dressed head to toe in black PVC, stood by the camera.

"Hello, Amy, would you like to take off your coat?"

Amy slowly slipped off her jacket. The long, beige overcoat slinked off over her shoulders to reveal this scared young woman's flesh, clad only in a simple blue lace lingerie set. It was clear now why she had been so cold all the way here.

"I'm glad you wore what I told you to, Amy. Now sit on the bed, face the camera and say it..."

Amy nodded and crept over and clambered onto the bed. She knelt on the pillows looked directly into the camera, before her mistress pressed the switch. When she heard the beep, Amy swallowed her pride, looked forcefully down the lens, and said,

"I hereby declare that from this day onwards I am a little lesbian slut."

****

~Chapter One – Mummy's Bedroom ~

Amy Jones was something of a late bloomer. At eighteen years old, her breasts still hadn't come through, and of course, the other girls at her school picked up on it. She rarely wore bras as she barely had A cups and they were expensive, so her mum wouldn't bother, much to Amy's dismay. The few plain ones she could afford with the little cash she had boosted her self esteem and she felt like a proper woman, not just a little girl, when she wore one, getting to the stage where she would be sad taking it off at the end of the day, the antithesis of most women.

She started to cherish the little nice lingerie she had, but it was mainly pretty, girly knickers, however she could hardly say it was sexy. Looking at herself in the mirror sometimes, in her small training bra and pink knickers with white flowers on she would see a girl looking back at her and not a woman ...

Amy's obsession with lingerie manifested itself in odd ways. She would find herself sneaking into her mum's room when she was alone in the house. She knew exactly what drawer her mother's ordinary pants were in ... and what drawer the rather more risqué stuff was in. She would slowly ease out the black fishnets, the satin red knickers and her favourite, the white bra with black lace trim and then slip out of her own clothes and try them on.

When she first started doing this when she was, she felt alive, unbelievable, but there was something missing that she couldn't quite place. Wearing her mother's sexy tights made her feel something, something inside herself but she didn't know what it was. One thing she did know – she felt like a woman. She struggled to feel sexy all her life, partly due to her small boobs, partly due to the fact that no boys had ever been interested in her at school even though she was fairly good looking.

Her hair was brown and curly, she was blessed with some cute freckles and a pretty smile but she rarely flashed it as general conversation just made her shy – she came across as awkward more times than most, and any idea of sex appeal was non existent. That was until she stood in front of her mirror, wearing her mother's slightly over-sized bra, but when no one could see her, she was awkward no more.

She seemed taller, alone in that room, than at school where the other girls mocked and bullied her, her body seemed to grow with confidence. Though her breasts were small, she radiated sexuality in other ways. Her legs were slim and toned, she had been a ballet dancer since five, and she had an athletic body thanks to years of toil at dance competitions, which her mother had always encouraged.

When she could hear the car pull into the drive way, she hastily stripped off, stuffed the underwear back where she found it and raced to the bathroom to have a shower. While she was in the soaking her naked body, she would feel a spark, a rush and would start to notice she was feeling wet between her legs ...

Amy wasn't really interested in sex but she sensed this was what the other girls were mentioning when they said they were turned on. She didn't really know what she was. She assumed that puberty had just not fully hit her yet. When the other girls' chest started to swell, so too did their affection for the scruffy boys at their school and their bad boy ways, and Amy just guessed when she started bursting through her top, she'd start to finally go through that teenage boy crazy phase.

But by the time she turned eighteen, that time never came. The only time she ever felt turned on was, predictably, standing in front of that mirror looking at herself. In the shower, her hand would drop down and sometimes the temptation would just be too much ....

The first time she masturbated, she collapsed in the shower, her knees giving way in the intense waves of pleasure. Her mother came to check on her to see if she was okay. Amy quickly lied and told her she just slipped. Little did she know it was because she was wearing her underwear ...

As soon as she made this mental association between a long dormant sensuality and her mother's underwear, she was a little freaked out but was glad she was finally exploring her sexuality. The next time she slipped into her mum's lacy thong, she noticed that she was really starting to get wet...

She lay back on the bed, confident her mum wouldn't be back for hours. Her hand glided down to her thighs and she stroked them delicately, anticipating that wonderful moment when her fingertip made contact with her little pleasure button. She was in heaven, lying on the bed, wearing this beautiful pink thong, soaking it with her juices, soaking her mother's pink thong with her daughter's ...

Amy shot up. Shit! She thought. She couldn't soil them, otherwise her mother would twig and her little lingerie sessions would be over. In a flappy hurry, she kicked them off, and brought them to her face to investigate the stain. Her flow had leaked out into a patch on the fabric. Not thinking, she hurriedly brought the material to her face and started licking it off. Suddenly, she realised what she was doing and brought them away. Licking up her own juices ... a bit gay?

But she was curious. This was her private time after all, and no one knew what she was doing. She brought them back to her face to check they were clean. Thank God, they were. Again a wave of curiosity got the better of her and without thinking she brought them to her face and sniffed them, inhaling deeply. Wow ...

For weeks after that, Amy would put on her mum's bra and fishnet stockings and pleasure herself. But instead of wearing the pants and risk dirtying them, she would hold them to her face and smell the smell that only expensive lingerie gave off. She soon graduated from this, to going on websites such as La Senza, Ann Summers and Victoria's Secret, and pleasured herself looking at the lovely fabrics.

This didn't seem unusual in her head at all. She was still going on the assumption that when her breasts came through she would be interested in boys. And she wasn't cumming looking at the women, she was looking at the bras, the panties and the oh-so-floaty babydolls ....

Then one day, her A-cup plain white bras didn't begin to feel so tight anymore. She was giddy with excitement. Finally she could go and buy a proper bra, a proper woman's bra. She had finally peaked, she had finally reached womanhood.

And what womanhood would bring Amy, she could not possibly imagine ...