Helen's Meal

A streak of spunk had dried on her inner thigh, and a dark spray of her squirt coated the concrete floor tiles around her. Her lower face and jaw felt crusty and her nipples felt painfully hard. Smacking her lips, she tried to restore feeling...

And then thought about restoring her dignity.

It soon transpired that her jacket had fallen back and dragged itself in a rain water puddle. Not spoilt but too damp to slip back on, it had lost its shape. The debate she was having with herself was solved when he whisked it away from her, folded it and looped it over his arm.

Gentlemanly as always, he held out a steadying hand for her to take and guided her tentative progress down the steps and across the tarmac to the car.

Unnecessary flicking her surprisingly undisturbed hair back and gripping his arm, she sashayed alongside, listening to the delicious click of her heels in the quietness of the night.

Naked in heels in public.

Confidence exuding every pore. Confidence that she so rarely felt.

Confidence to show off her improving figure; her voluptuous breasts, her rounded womanly thighs and ass.

Naked as the day she had been born, but feeling a million dollars.

He helped her into the car.

This time she opened her legs teasingly and was rewarded with a glint of lust at her swollen and red labia in his eyes as he closed the door for her, the interior light illuminating her chest, face and the pale crusty white recent additions around her lower jaw and neck.

As he rounded the bonnet to the driver's side, a moment of panic rocked her. It was over. He was spent. She smelt like teenager's bedroom. It was time for home.

As sore as her pussy was feeling right now, as open as she was, there was the crushing reality that it was home to bed and the sexual escapade was over.

On second thoughts, maybe it was the moment to curl up in bed together, time for sleep and recuperation. On second thoughts, too much of a good thing could be a bad thing. On second thoughts, maybe it was the moment to rest her pussy for another night. On second thoughts, maybe she didn't have another one in her.

Resting her head on his left shoulder, both hands holding his one hand tucked in between her legs cupping her mound, she dreamily let the late night radio station play love songs as a background accompaniment to the post coital pleasure she was feeling.

...

The journey from the car to the house was very daring. Though late, she felt as though the eyes of the world were on her as she climbed out of the vehicle and clacked her way up the drive. Of course she wasn't allowed her jacket; she didn't expect to be. She did notice him position his body in relation to hers strategically, and was grateful for that consideration. Grateful when the key was quickly found and the comfort, security and safety of home attained.

She had prepared the bed many hours previously, and after a good facial scrub, she climbed in, faced away, tucked her ass backwards into his groin, and rested her head on his outstretched arm.

Feeling a protective arm encircling her and resting on her breast, hearing his breathing slow to a quiet rasp, it didn't take long to join him in deep contented sleep.

Epilogue

The following weeks and months were a time of enlightenment for Helen. A budgoning realisation and confidence that came and built upwards from that one positive evening experience. A redoubling of efforts to lose remaining excess weight, to increase body tone, to wear clothes that showed off her figure rather than hide it. A transformative time that was having remarkable benefits. A chrysalis of her outlook on life. A regenerative time that gave her a stronger tone to her voice, a more assertive nature and sturdier resolve during times of confrontation.

Trips to the supermarket saw her in the stilleto heels that accentuated her legs and firmed her muscles; that made her stand tall and proud; that kept her posture up. Saw her wearing tighter tops that showed some cleavage or crop tops that alluded to the pleasures beneath. Saw her in jeans or skirts that showed her legs. Clothes that made her a focus of a room rather than hide her within it.

Encouragement came from the double-takes from random men she passed. She was being 'checked out' and her inner voice giggled with glee, craving the next such fix. It gave her a provocative wiggle in her walk and body confidence to do so became the norm.

It gave her a smile.

It have her confidence.

It gave her a reason to continue.

On colder days, with the memory of that night still fresh in her memory, at the very front of her mind, and with the need to wear a longer or thicker coat, she found it often negated the need for undergarments or a blouse. It made her feel naughty; made her exude a sassy air.

On these occasions, it became a matter of course to send him a cheeky selfie from a public place or supermarket, her coat opened to tease him. Leaning against the biscuits, no one around and an opportunity to show off her own nibbles. Bending over a chest freezer, her own chest swinging for the picture. Squatting down for a bottom shelf item, phone ready on the floor, her own expanded for delectation.

It became a game. A prick tease. A way to feel close to him and put her at the front of his mind, no matter what he was doing at the time. Knowledge that he was expending his own fluids thinking of her, perhaps leaking as much as she was at the precise moment she shared the image, the taste of his cum still etched on her buds.

The quantity of squirt she was producing each night from just the memory of the eroticism of 'that meal' meant she had to develop a robust plan for its collection. There was no way her washing regime could keep up otherwise. Despite original concerns, she found a wide lipped glass was the simplest and the most appropriate method.

With each subsequent day's erotic events playing repeatedly in her mind's eye; the quantity she produced was nearly always extremely copious.

Kept by the bed and tucked between her legs whenever she climbed in for the evening, it became a necessity to save sleeping in a pool each night. A matter of course.

...

So when the next event was planned and his surprise phone call shared the premise with her, she was ready. She was prepared. She could barely wait. Her pussy leaked immediately at even the thought of the intended day. Thank goodness she had systems in place.

This was going to be a good one!

To be continued...