Helen's Confidence Pt. 01

The last few weeks had come and gone in a dream of fond memories. Her 'morning after' at the shops had powerful but positive consequences for her normal life since. A long lasting alteration to what she considered the normality.

No longer the shy and retiring creature she once was, a happy and proud animal had taken its place. Standing tall at all times no matter where she was or whatever the circumstance, shoulders back and tits out as she was once told. Confidence and clarity of thought to tackle life had taken control from the uncertainty and delaying nature she once had. No longer the procrastinator, she felt she could move the world if she so desired.

The morning spent at the mall had given her the momentum to increase the diet and exercise workout, redoubling her efforts to lose those extra few pounds around her waist and feel even better when stood in front of the long mirror she had put in her hallway. Her wardrobe had been assessed and cleared out, the baggy loose fitting clothing bagged up and donated. The seemingly acres of cloth that's only goal was to shield and conceal her actual shape, gone. Thankfully. It was time to be proud of herself.

It was time for a fresh start.

It was time for self evaluation.

It was time for a new Helen.

Giving him that naked blow job crouched down between the cars had been the final decision making moment. It had felt gloriously freeing to squat there taking his full load blasted onto her face and into her mouth. It had shown her the way. Being buttoned down and reluctant to try new things had not helped all these years. Being afraid of public opinion crippling.

What was the worst that could happen?

What had been the outcome of that event?

Passing cars as she crouched there weren't interested in her. No one stopped and shouted at them. No alarms had gone off. No security guards running at them waving her arms. Everyone had just got on with their lives. No one else knew. No one else cared.

No. All that happened was that they climbed into the car and drove home with his hand on her knee. She had spent the journey scooping the spunk from her face into her mouth and licking her fingers clean. It was just a tangy thick water before long and quite enjoyable. No cars they passed were aware. No hooting. No jeering. Free to live her life.

She mused the events whilst stood at the sink. Wearing his long plain blue t-shirt was the custom these days; she was naked beneath as usual. He had left it behind recently by accident and it smelled of him. She was reluctant to wash it, though with her extra fluids spraying it copiously by accident since, she was thinking it might be time.

He wasn't directing the way to live or what to wear or how to act. Nothing that he had asked for, no stipulation, command or encouragement. It was her choice to wear the thin garment around the home, generally irrespective of whomever was visiting, revelling in the low cut stretch over her breasts. But she couldn't get over how her pussy looked with the dangling earrings and it fascinated her. Feeling the openness and freedom there was therapeutic; the soft tug of the weight on her genitals restorative of positive emotions irrespective of situation.

Knickers were not a primary thought when dressing.

Leaving the car for the house had been a slight problem when they had arrived back. It was not seemly to walk up the path and steps naked. Not at that time of the day. Not in full daylight. She had done it under the cover of night of course, the street lamp near the house too dirty to cast a decent light; too many shadows to give anyone clear line of sight. But during daytime, she did have a few nosey neighbors and had no desire to cause upset. There was a line she wouldn't cross.

Throwing her dress over her head, it took inching to the edge of the passenger seat and stepping out of the car to pull it down properly. Her face had been still quite shiny from the liberal coating it had had but it was not obviously spunk - so not quite a full cum walk.

As was the norm with these recollections, her hand drifted into the space between her legs and gently stroked her clit between the jewellery. The idea of a public cum walk turned her on. She couldn't work out why. Why did that send sparks to her lower body so easily? Why did it excite her so much? Naughty, dirty, slutty. Wondered if she could find an adult only situation?

Her breathing changed, she gripped the worktop for support and threw her head back, eyes closed. Walking through that mall with spunk on her forehead! She felt the rising familiar sensations. Could she do that? His sex toy. If he made her, she would! If he made her she would dance the Salsa while it coated her. Electric bolts of lightning jetted around her groin. Her body for his use. The thought of it was debauched.

Too much.

Once again.

Too much.

On tip toes, her lower jewellery clattering noisily against the worktop she knew what was coming. Her cumpot was in the dishwasher once again. Only one thing for it.

Thankful for the sink, she came hard, the resultant splash of squirt hitting the stainless steel bowl. Once, twice. A third decent sized quantity of ejaculate squirt swirled around and slowly ran down to the plughole.

She was trembling and her pussy lips felt massive once more. Her clit was protruding out yet again, bright red and desperate for more. She sighed and watched her fluids disappear. As many times as she cum, she always wanted just one more.

It almost felt too much to cum. Almost as though she preferred being in the state of arousal without the final pay-off. She had edged of course. Taken herself to the brink of orgasm and then forced herself to stop. Doing that a couple of times had made for a much stronger resultant cum in the end. But with the last few escapades still prevalent in her mind, it was feeling impossible not to give herself that final stroke. As much as she told herself that that was far enough, something in her brain bayed for more. Took control.

She lifted the tap and splashed a stream of warm water around the bowl to take the last vestiges of her squirt away and then swilled her fingers clean.

Come on, Helen.

Jobs to do.

A cuppa first maybe?

A cup of tea was the first thing she had had on the return to the house after the mall. She had tasted him all the way home. Slightly salty, it was a unique taste. Not unpleasant but lasting. She had watched herself in the vanity mirror on the back of the car sun visor, clean everything she could. She had spooned and scooped it all in through her lips and smacked them appreciatively when she couldn't find any more, and then asked him if there was a second helping? She had pulled his cock through his fly and then dropped her head helpfully into his lap to clean stray smears from it; tried to make him hard again despite his recent ejaculation.

She reached for the kettle abstractly with one hand, the other returning to between her legs. There was something about the freedom of having no knickers. No material to get in the way; being open and ready for use. It actually felt strange to wear something with a gusset now, as though a conscious effort to cover herself up. She had been shopping many times since and just not bothered, having it add a new element to an otherwise mundane task.

Her stilettos were a good buy; she felt that they looked very feminine. Her legs always looked very long in them and that made her feel good. They were longer still in shorter dresses; shorter skirts. She had become aware of people watching her, felt people's eyes on her. The new leopard skin ones especially brought their own set of recollections when she slipped them on.

Enjoying her.

Admiring her.

Hungry eyes.

Perhaps not all people, but the salivating by some of the men she passed was a massive confidence boost. Not that she wanted them or that they had the nerve to approach her, the smile on their lips was enough to lift any mood and fill her with happy thoughts.

It had promoted a game. A naughty game. A fun experiment she conducted the last time she had been shopping. Memories of it now flooded her mind and her finger probed deeper into her succulent depths in response to them.

How high could she manage to get the skirt? Did she have the nerve to tease making that jewellery visible to others?

It was a simple question she could well have imagined her man asking of her. A question she could barely wait to share with him. A self set task that would surely make his glorious blue eyes widen.

A simple enough premise. The material always rose on her thighs anyway without looking out of place or awkward. It was easy to pinch the fabric on her hips and lift it whilst walking without being too obvious.

But, how high could she take it and stay within her comfort zone? Not offend anyone. Not show her pussy. Not cause upset.

No need for her man's direction.

Her own rules this time.

She wanted to play her own game.

She had done it yesterday while popping to the local supermarket. Her legs had felt smooth and glossy from the copious oil she had applied following an earlier shower. No knickers again focused her mind as ever and an appreciative glance from one random, actually quite attractive middle-aged balding man, had kick started the idea for herself whilst leaning over a freezer.

The kettle was still a while from boiling, which provided the opportunity for her incessant finger to subconsciously stimulate her clit again as the memory of her sudden recklessness filled her thoughts.

It made her legs tremble slightly with the recall. A flash of naughtiness through her very soul. The boredom of not having anybody's encouragement at that moment. The temporary suspension of decency.

She had taken the skirt to mid thigh. To 'normal' Helen, this was unheard of. Normal Helen would be in long flowing material dresses that on occasion looked billowy like sails perhaps. Sexy Helen wore a clingy dress that crept up her thighs and got admiring glances from people she met in the shop. Normal Helen would be horrified. Sexy Helen was in her element.

As she discretely raised the hem to ostensibly help her search in the chest freezer, she saw the man almost fall over a store pallet truck with his taken attention of just a little more thigh flesh. Her heels created a hell of a lot of definition in her muscles, right the way up. Captivating attention. She smiled to herself but kept an outward aloofness.

The makings of a game..

Slightly higher at the next freezer.

And the next.

All well and good, but those bottom shelves had to be reached too. She remembered her heart beating like a drum but the vigour of excitement was an adrenaline rush. A compulsion. A commitment to herself that she had no reason to renege on. She sauntered from the aisle into the next.

An elderly man dithering between two brands of product was completely self absorbed. An employee on her way past her with a portable device and a non-threatening looking, mid to late fifties bloke with a well kept white beard who seemed to be in no hurry and whom was well aware of her.

Her fingers worked their way in and out with the memory and she wondered for the umpteenth time if she had attained her goal of teasing the drop earrings when she reached for that last item?

She had taken the hem so high.

Definitely most of the back of her thighs.

Most assuredly she felt the jewellery part company with each other and tug slightly on the lake creating between them.

A groan.

A groan of excitement.

A need for fulfillment.

Alone in the shop, under her own jurisdiction, she had compelled herself to go further than ever and not cared; she had fulfilled her own dare.

She had told him of course. Texted him as soon as she got back in the car. Knew it had aroused him. Knew it made him all the more eager on his next visit. Knew he was sat at work then with an erection and a headfull of thoughts. Just describing it to him had caused a reasonable sized dribble down her leg which thankfully she had a tissue ready for..

She groaned again; two fingers now deep inside herself. The kettle was almost there, and it wouldn't take long to come to the boil again for herself. She had had to cum again sat behind the steering wheel, though that time she had had the presence of mind to bring her cumpot to collect the inevitable squirt and save her car mats.

It was no good trying to just edge however this time. The memories all too much, she groaned out loud with the second orgasm in just a few moments, this time to the accompaniment of a cloud of steam and the click of the kettle switching itself off.

...

Wrenching herself from the memories of the shopping trip she poured a cup of tea and resolved to now complete her morning task.

With her new found confidence, this wanted to create a surprise for her tall blue-eyed lover; a totally unexpected treat. Having played a few of them, this was now to be a game of her own construct with rules of her own.

The back bedroom was a space in a state of transition. Wardrobes were in the process of being emptied with the contents assessed for size and quality. Three large bin bags were in one corner of the room with items for donation and one behind the door filling slowly with the unsaveable trash.

She entered and placed the mug on the window ledge before turning to regard the garment she had left earlier on the bed, a smile of mischievous pleasure creeping across her face.

There lay a very old pair of faded denim jeans which she had discovered that morning on a hanger beneath two old coats. The stains and general condition had almost meant immediate discard to the trash pile.

There was, however, a mild curiosity about salvage. Something her man had mentioned during one racy phone conversation when they had shared a few sexual fantasies. Something which jumped to her recall and made her wonder about the actual practical possibilities.

She tried to remember the time she had purchased them; she had been younger by at least ten years. She traced her fingers across the denim recalling the circumstances of their last wearing before picking them up and opening the fly.

Pulling them up over her thighs, it took a couple of tugs and a hopping on the spot to pull them right up. Sucking in her belly she fastened the top button and pulled the zip up.

Actually they still fit all right. They were very snug over her hips and finished a little too high above the ankles for her liking, but they fit all right. An obvious large ink stain on a front pocket reminded her of the reason she stopped wearing them.

It was now a naughty thought.

A recollection of his throw-away comment.

An urge for some fun.

Time to get to it.

Removing the jeans, she sat on the bed and opened them inside out over her lap. She took the small pair of dress-making scissors from the bedside cabinet and planned the next move.

The job was easy to access. It didn't take long with the long blades of the scissors to split the thread holding the panels together but the trick was not to take it too far too quickly. The stitching was very tough to cut but she had determination and resolve, though this was most definitely a trial and improvement task.

She giggled with glee to herself as her patient arts and crafts training took over as the desire for a favourable outcome took hold.

After a while, she stood up and pulled them back on to ascertain the actually slightly disappointing effect. It was barely discernible.

Never mind.

Remove and adjust.

Try again.

It took her a good hour to become happy with her cutting and sewing work but she thought that it was time well spent. Standing in the hallway before the full length mirror, she rocked her legs left and right in the now customary stilletos to admire how the jeans made her legs look.

She was even happy with how short the jeans were on her ankles, accentuating her calf muscle and defining her legs nicely below the trouser hem.

Twisting back and forth in the mirror, to all intents and purposes, she looked modest and presentable. Slightly annoyed by the ink stain, there was nothing she could do about that. A leaking biro years ago had done it's worst.

She walked towards the mirror to discover what others would see.

All was good.

All looked normal.

Reaching the mirror, she squatted down onto her heels and parted her knees.

The cut she had made in the seam below the fly opened like a mouth, displaying her succulent looking wet pussy, the rings in her labia reflecting brightly in the mirror, the drop earrings hanging through the aperture. The effect looked excellent and excitement flooded her. She took a steadying lungful of air and imagined his face when he saw this.

She was very pleased with how it had turned out. She had managed to cut out just a little of the material too leaving a kind of discrete oval hole overlapping the usually sewn seam and then had strengthened the remaining stitching to prevent accidental tearing.

Unless her thighs were clenched together, it meant a pleasant breeze and a discrete exhibition that she was becoming quite partial too, though now it would be gloriously constant dependent on her pose.

Gleeful she grabbed her phone to take some snaps...

No.

No, Helen.

This was going to be his surprise.

Her mind's eye took them both to a quiet picnic spot or a coastal outcrop. A smooch at dusk watching a sunset and his exploring hand finding the gap in her clothing mid kiss. How would he react? How would he contain himself? Maybe he wouldn't. She wondered if she would most likely get a fingering; maybe his tongue exploring through the slit at the earliest opportunity, her sat on a wall. Most definitely his hard cock would find it's way, before long, through the homemade slit into the moist depths behind. Maybe she would be bent over the bonnet of the car happily feeling the residual warmth of the engine heating her torso.

The eroticism of being taken easily whilst fully dressed excited her even in the safety of her own company on her own home. It took a lot of will-power to not stroke herself.

A little too much with the dangling drop earrings hanging from the rings, she thought. Too obvious. Discretion and surprise here was far more erotic. She unclipped them and was pleased with the effect, even though she felt lost without the gentle weight and constant soft tug. She could always clip them back on if he asked her to or if she felt naughty with them hanging out through her jeans when they were out and about.

Again, her hand strayed towards the phone to record the moment for him, snatching it away at the last moment and reaffirming her resolve to keep it as a surprise gift. He was always coming up with things to keep it fun. This was going to be her contribution to the relationship.

Maybe she could reveal the split during a meal. Could he continue his meal calmly knowing that that was there? She giggled once more and had to resist smoothing herself between her legs. She was not going to cum until he was with her. He was not the only person now with a game in his head; she could step up and bring her own too. A reward of sorts for him.

Her confidence was brimming.

The trip to the supermarket had proved her capable of creating her own special and exciting moments. It crossed her mind and she wondered about taking these jeans out today for a spin?

Deciding not to; the first time should be with her man on her arm. His size was a security. His quick thinking and ability to get her out of awkward situations should they arise, her safety.

It was for him essentially.

A call from him was expected soon anyway.

An evening date was on the cards.

One last twist in the mirror and an over the shoulder glimpse of what it looked like from behind confirmed that when stood up naturally, the split was impossible to see. She stood and walked and checked.