Everyone in this story is over eighteen. It is far and away my most ambitious work to date, tracing the metamorphosis of a young married woman from being a downtrodden wife, through a chance encounter, eventually into a spiral leading her into a world she had never dreamt of. I hope someone bothers to read it.

My story begins in the following way, but that is really only a 'preface.'

'Where's my dinner then?' was my greeting when Gerry, my husband of some eight years, walked in from work, failing to notice me, sat at the coffee table with tears rolling down my cheeks.

'There's stuff in the fridge,' I managed to say.

'You lazy fucking slut,' he yelled, and looked ready to hit me -- again. I knew he wouldn't be interested to know that I'd spent all afternoon in the hospital, where the oncologist had given my brother three months at best. Ever since poor Tim had fallen ill, I had been unable to concentrate on anything else, seeking only the comfort afforded me by my best friend Judith.

But Gerry was still there, glowering, red-faced, down at me, and when I made a valiant attempt to tell him about Tim, all he could say was, 'So that poofter brother of yours is more fucking important than being a wife to your husband -- is that it?'

'You insensitive fucking pig!' I screamed, finally losing it, and he punched me on the side of the head, sending me crashing across the coffee table, the glass on which shattered into a million pieces.

I picked myself up, dazed and groggy, and ran out into the street. Nice Mr Greensmith, from next door, who had obviously heard the commotion, came out of his door.

'What on earth's going on?' he asked, but without waiting for an answer, shepherded me into his front door, and sat me down on his overstuffed sofa.


A couple of months later, I was living with Judith, in her nice townhouse, sharing the rent, and 'getting a life' as they say. With Judith, I went out to parties, avoiding the advances of a flattering number of men, and steering well clear of Gerry, who tried to get in touch by telephone, email, and even by knocking on the door several times, to be told by Judith that I'd 'gone away.'

I changed my job, moving on from the office I had worked in as a secretary since before I was married, and landing a position as a receptionist at a hotel the other side of the city, close to the airport.

Engrossed in sorting out bookings one evening, I didn't hear anyone approaching, so was surprised when I looked up, into the weather-beaten face and piercing pale blue eyes of a tall, fifty-something, fit-looking guy, dressed in a lightweight fawn suit and open-necked blue shirt.

'Hello, Elizabeth,' he said, reading the embossed nameplate pinned to my white silk blouse, 'I hope you have a room for me?' His accent might have been South African, I thought, but wasn't very pronounced.

'Can I have your name, sir?' I asked.

'Oh, I have no reservation,' he said, 'but my name is Gordon Trimwell.'

I took his passport, and immediately discovered that he was, in fact, Sir Gordon Trimwell, with an address in Lanzarote, Canary Islands. Intrigued, I booked him into as good a room as we had available, ascertaining that he wanted to stay for three nights.

I didn't see him again that evening, but found myself thinking about the tall, distinguished gentleman as I went to sleep that night. I realised that I had been remarkably chaste for the last two months, in marked contrast to my previous life, when I had been fairly casual about sex, without ever being exactly promiscuous. For the first time in a long while, I masturbated myself gently to sleep, my fingers working their way around my growing clit, as moisture started to well up in my eager pussy.

My afternoon shift had barely started when Sir Gordon put in an appearance through the hotel's swing-doors. He was now dressed formally, in a beautifully-tailored dark grey suit with a white shirt and sobre striped tie. His shoes were highly polished, and when she shot his cuffs as he took his key from me, I saw a gold Rolex Oyster on his wrist.

'Elizabeth,' he said, 'Thank you. I see you remembered my room number -- you are most efficient.'

I must have coloured up when I thanked him for the compliment, because he smiled engagingly, and said, 'I didn't mean to embarrass you. Perhaps you could spare the time to have a drink with me when you finish work?'

Fraternising with guests was frowned upon by the hotel management, and my hesitation was only due to that, as my heart had skipped several beats at the prospect of sharing a moment or two with this elegant man.

'I...if you can give me time to change, we could go across the road, Sir Gordon.'

'We'll have none of the "sir" if you don't mind,' he said, smiling at my discomfiture, 'What time do you finish?'

'At ten,' I replied, 'I'll wait outside at twenty past, if that's OK'

'I'll look forward to that.' He obviously understood that I couldn't meet him in the hotel itself.

I was a bundle of nerves then, until my relief arrived, mercifully early, so that I had time to get ready. I thanked my lucky stars that I had been too lunch with Judith before my shift began, so had dressed up more than was usual for coming to work.. I slipped out of my hotel uniiform skirt and blouse, and zipped myself into the short summer dress I had come in. It was navy blue, with polka dots, and of a soft, silky material. Taking care with my make-up, I looked critically at my image in the dressing-room mirror, and liked what I saw. My long, black hair, released from the ponytail I employed in the hotel, seemed thicker and more lustrous since I had left Gerry, and my complexion clearer, though it my have been my imagination. Standing up, I did a twirl, and thought my slim form and long legs looked good. 'Hmmm,' I said aloud, looked at my watch and went out to see what fate had in store.

Sir Gordon was waiting for me, cream button-down shirt, chinos and mocassins, a light jacket slung over his shoulder. He took my arm, and steered me across to a cocktail bar over the road.

As soon as we were sat down at a corner table, both with martinis, he smiled, and said, 'I knew I was right about you, Elizabeth.'


'I somehow knew you would be staggeringly beautiful once out of that uniform.'

I looked into his eyes for some sort of humour, but was met with his piercing gaze -- deadly serious.


'Don't deny it,' he said, 'You know you are remarkably lovely, don't you, Elizabeth?'

'I don't know, but please call me Liz,' I said.

'I think not. I shall call you Elise, though, I think.'

'That sounds nice.'

He asked me if I was married, and when I replied that I was separated, he said, 'Ah, but you still wear a ring?'

I slipped the gold band from my finger. 'There!' It seemed a natural thing to do, but he was leaning towards me, and suddenly reached out and took my hand.

'I have often been accused of being too direct, my dear,' he said, 'but I hope you don't mind me saying that I should like to make love to you.'

I suppose I could have, should have, walked out there and then, or even slapped his face, at least been outraged, but I meekly downcast my eyes a little and heard myself saying, 'I'd like that -- very much.'

I led him back across the road, to the tradesmen's entrance, and we sneaked unseen up the service lift to his room. As soon as we were in his room, he took me in his arms and kissed me deeply, our tongues searching, probing, as he fondled my buttocks through the thin material of my dress. I reached down, felt the hard bulge in his trousers, and fought to release his zipper, then had to struggle again to drag a lovely, stiff cock over the waistband of his boxers. He moaned with pleasure when I had his rampant length in my hand, then it was the most natural thing in the world to drop to my knees, and take the very tip of his engorged weapon into my lips, licking the crown with my tongue.

'Oh yes, Elise!' he said, his hands in my hair, and I slid his entire length deep into my throat, having to fight not to gag as he drove in, fucking my mouth as I sucked.

'Oargh!' he yelled, and spurted copiously straight down my throat. I was scarcely a virgin, in any sense, but that was the very first time I had swallowed a load of cum -- and I could scarcely believe that I had not only wanted to, but had loved it.

I also loved that he didn't attempt to apologise, merely pulling me onto the bed, and saying, 'It will soon be your turn, my dear.'

'Can you?' I said, thinking of his age, and immediately wishing I hadn't said it.

But Sir Gordon smiled, and now sat beside me on the bed, said simply, 'Show yourself to me!'

Hesitantly, I moved back and lay against the pillows, pulled down my cream silk panties, slowly parted my legs and raised the hem of my skirt, then lifted my knees, never taking my eyes off his face. I parted my lips slightly, and let the very tip of my tongue slip out between my teeth.

'Spread your pussy for me,' he said, and I let a hand wander between my legs, a finger either side on my outer labia, gently parting them, so that he could get a tantalising glimpse of my damp, pink cunt.

'That's lovely,' he said, moving closer. At that moment, I wanted nothing more in the world than to feel that lovely cock I had so recently tasted inside of me.

But he had other ideas, and stroked the inside of my thighs with a tenderness I could scarcely believe, then his head was between my legs, and, before I knew it, his teeth were working on my clit, which he found unerringly. It responded immediately, growing hard as stone, then his tongue was plunging deep into the hot, wet depths of my eager cunt. I had my hands tangled in his hair as he fucked me with his tongue, and an orgasm welled up, then swept over me in a tidal wave so ferocious I almost blacked out. I must have screamed, because as he came up for air he looked at me quizzically, my own juices evident all over his chin and down his shirt-front.

'You needed that, didn't you?' he said, at length.

'Oh yes, but not as much as I want to feel you inside me, Gordon,' I told him, reaching down to find him quite prepared to penetrate me.

He was all too ready, and when his cock slid easily into my sopping vagina, I used ancient skills to tighten, then relax, my grip on him, heightening his pleasure as he rode me, pounding with long, long strokes, his balls slapping against my arse as he reached my depths, his hands at last finding and cupping my breasts, his lips finding mine, so that when his whole body eventually stiffened and he came with a great, shuddering sigh, our mouths were together in what felt like a seal of love. Seconds later, I came too -- it was unusual in the extreme for me to cum twice in such a short time.

Next day, I was eager to get to work, and had taken great care with my make-up and hair, butt was in for a huge, shattering disappointment. The first thing I saw when I checked the computer screen was that Sir Gordon Trimwell had checked out. I couldn't believe it! Was it something I had done wrong? Had I frightened him off? I was devastated.

But then, still in a daze, I went to put a key back in its cubby-hole, which was, coincidentally, next to the one Sir Gordon's key was residing in. And I saw it! An envelope, with 'Elise' written in a neat hand upon it.

I trembled as I opened it, then read his letter:-

My Dear Elise,

I am so sorry, but I have been summoned to an urgent meeting in Berlin today, and must then return to my office in Madrid to chair a meeting tomorrow.

However, I hope you are as anxious as I that our relationship will continue and flourish. I append my private email address, so that you may tell me when you next have at least two successive free days at your disposal. When this is known to me, I shall make sure that you are brought to me at my home -- that is, of course, if that meets with your approval.



He had added his email address, as promised, and I read and re-read the oddly formal note, smiling inanely to myself as I did so.

I looked at the desk diary where staff arrangements were displayed, and was soon on the mobile phone to my co-receptionist, Cheryl, and re-organising my next weekend, making use of a day I was owed too.

Then I emailed Sir Gordon, and told him, simply:-

'Of course I want to see you again. I am free the coming Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, if that helps. Looking forward to meeting again,

XXX Elise.

And it felt odd signing myself 'Elise.' Just what had I let myself in for?

I was going to find out. Half an hour later a message came back asking for my home address, and telling me to be ready to be picked up at seven on Sunday morning. 'Travel light,' was the instruction, and just wear a summer dress. I looked doubtfully at the grey skies outside.

When Sunday eventually came around, I was a bundle of nerves, but somehow managed to slip into a cotton sundress, despite the chilly morning, and picked up my bag, with jeans, underwear, tee-shirts, make-up and toiletries, as the doorbell rang right on the dot of seven. I had been too nervous to have any breakfast.

When I got to the door, a pretty blonde, with nice blue eyes, wearing a blue jump-suit, was standing there, and ushered me down the path to a waiting luxury car -- I thought it was a Lexus, where a young guy with longish black hair sat behind the wheel, and smiled at me as I approached. Darkened rear windows meant that I was unable to see the girl who already occupied the rear seat until I got in beside her, but then I saw that she was a slim, coffee-coloured beauty, clad, like the blonde who slid in behind me, in a blue jump-suit.

'I am Daphne,'said the blonde, 'and this is Maria. The driver's Jaime.'

Their fragrance filled the car, intoxicating me at such an early hour, and I hardly noticed the route we took, as they made small-talk, until we entered what appeared to be a private airfield. We sped across tarmac, and pulled up beside a small, sleek, jet aircraft.

In something of a daze, I allowed myself to be handed out of the car, and up the short staircase, into the 'plane. I was surprised to see Jaime climbing into the door at the front -- he was obviously the pilot as well as the chauffeur. He looked athletic, I thought.

I looked around me -- it was like no aircraft I had ever seen, with just a row of leather seats facing the rear, where a very comfortable-looking bed, covered in what looked like satin sheets, with lots of cushions, occupied the width of the fuselage.

'Sit down and strap in,' said Daphne, doing likewise, 'and Maria will fetch us a coffee, then as soon as we are up, we'll get some rest -- it's a four hour flight, and we've had an early start.'

Soon we taxied, lined up on the runway, and I felt the surge as we took off, and sipped coffee with the two girls in companionable silence. I sensed that our flight had levelled off, and the girls immediately unclipped their seatbelts and stood. I was amazed when both unzipped their jump-suits. They were both stark-naked, and I was having difficulty averting my eyes from Daphne's small, firm breasts, which sported extraordinarily puffy nipples. But they both pulled little white silk slips from an overhead locker and, with a soft whisper of material, dropped them down over slim bodies. Then Maria handed an identical one to me.

'Why don't you get comfortable?' she said, 'it's a long way.'

Hesitantly I unzipped my dress. It was a halter-necked sundress, so I wore no bra, and was left standing in my cotton panties, as I slipped the flimsy garment over my head.

By the time I had shrugged off my shoes, Daphne and Maria were already on either side of the bed, ensuring that I slid on between them, their heady scent enveloping me, the thrust of those fantastic nipples all-too obvious through the silk of the blonde's slip. I had never been attracted to my own sex, but there was, I had to admit to myself, something more than a little fascinating about Daphne. I found myself drawn to her, but tried hard to keep my eyes averted, as I drifted off into a doze.

A little turbulence must have awoken me, as I glanced at my watch and saw I'd only been slumbering for some forty minutes. Maria's leg was touching mine from behind, her long, lithe body close enough so that her breathing seemed to synchronise with mine. Meanwhile I watched Daphne stir, and found her smiling at me.

'Sir Gordon was right,' she said quietly, 'you are very beautiful, Elise.'

I reached the short distance and touched her hand. 'I think you are completely gorgeous,' I said, and meant it.

Unexpectedly, she quickly moved across, took my head in her hands and kissed me full on the lips, then drew away and looked into my eyes. Seeing that I wasn't offended, she offered her mouth to me again, and this time I opened my lips and let her push her tongue between my teeth. I gasped as I felt the rasp of a metal stud against my own tongue, and felt an involuntary start to seep between my legs.

My hands, with a life of their own, sought her amazing nipples, and kneaded them through the silk.

'Mmmm!' she murmured, as the tips of her nipples hardened even as I felt them, 'That's SO good!'

But what was this? Suddenly hands were stroking my thighs, sensitive long fingers hooking into the elastic of my panties, easing them down. Maria had joined in!

I suppose I could have protested -- leapt off the bed, showed indignation, or something, but then Daphne was kissing me again, fondling my breasts under my slip, and I found myself smoothing a hand down the silkiness of her slip, finding her shaven mound, slipping fingers into her moistened pussy-lips, and locating the waiting, eager nub of her clit. She moaned now, as the flesh grew under my fingers, and when I slid down further, her cunt was wet with her juices -- as wet as mine had already become.

My panties were around my knees now, and I made no attempt to resist when Maria eased my legs apart, then I knew, for the very first time in my life, the delicious sensation of a girl's sensitive tongue, lapping my crack, questing, delving into the depths of my cunt, then flicking at my prominent clitoris.

Desperately, we shuffled around, sliding on the satin sheets, until Daphne could reach Maria's pussy, then, with busy tongues and fingers, we brought each other to a climax I would never have believed.

After we had lain, exhausted, for a while, I started to explain that it was the first Lesbian experience for me, but both girls laughed, and Daphne said, 'No big deal, Elise -- but was it good?'

'It was fantastic,' I replied, truthfully.

I must have dozed for a while, because in what seemed like no time at all, Marie ws handing me my dress, and saying, 'Come on, strap yourself in, we're coming in to land.'

A car similar to the one I had been in a few short hours before was waiting, with a gorgeous young guy behind the wheel -- longish blond hair curling over the collar of his open-necked shirt. His blue eyes looked somehow familiar. He jumped out to greet us, and Daphne said, 'Elise, meet Greg Trimwell.'

My mouth must have dropped open, and his amused gaze fell upon me as his deep voice caressed me, 'Yes, you're right, Gordon's son!'

I had been wondering seriously if my real destiny was to become an out-and-out Lesbian, after my experiences on the 'plane, but now I knew that was unlikely! I felt the sexually-charged atmosphere, as the two girls, now clad in short summer dresses and, as far as I could tell, not much else, sat on the back seat, while Greg looked pointedly at my bare knees as he started the car with me beside him.

We drove for some twenty minutes, through arid country, then arrived at a pair of electronic gates, which Greg opened with a clicker. We sailed through into a huge, park-like, green oasis, with a huge, rambling villa at its centre. When we drew up outside, a pretty Asian girl came to meet us, but Greg carried the small bag I had brought, and ushered me into a tiled hallway.

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