Isabel's Obsession

Sadly though, she had to admit to herself, that it was also the best orgasm she had had, and the likelihood was, in fact it was more of a definite; that this may have been the first, but it would not be the last time, she would succumb to her probing inexperienced fingers. She had produced pleasures within her that she had not known existed. Her first, self-induced orgasm was so sweet, so arousing, so lustful. In her head was nothing other than the joy she had brought upon herself and the fantasies of seeing that young man's cock. Of touching it, having it penetrate her. With those thoughts running through her brain, the induced orgasm continued to wrack her body with pleasure. "Ohhh my God Paul, what are you doing to me? You and that fabulous......ohhh your.....cock, COCK, YOUR COCK! Three.....three orgasms. And masturbation, you.....you have me masturbating, I have never....."

In truth, Isabel would have stayed in the shower for longer, but she wanted to get back to Paul. She was also concerned that if she stayed, she would induce another orgasm in herself, and was already aware that sex with Philip would never be enough to pleasure her again. Not that it met that requirement anyway. But she had suffered at his lazy hands for long enough and now wanted to enjoy what her body seemed to be craving.

Turning off the shower, she stepped out, and began to towel herself down, avoiding the areas that she guessed would start her off again. Her next move was as much of a surprise to her as it would be to anyone that knew her. She slipped on a fresh tee-shirt, without wearing one of her sexless bras. This was a woman that would even wear a night bra; so programmed was she in covering herself up! She was amazed at the sudden transformation within herself. She got out some track-suit bottoms and pulled those on. She felt fresh and invigorated, and certainly her nipples were transmitting that. As she looked down and then at the mirror, seeing just how prominent her nipples now were, she began to lose courage. 'Could she, do it?' She thought to herself. She knew her time was limited. Limited to how long Paul would spend downstairs, before leaving, and limited to the amount of time she had, before her excitement began to show through her track-suit bottoms, already, she could feel a trickle of her fluid, running down her thigh as her newly discovered fixation, continued to excite her pussy. It certainly showed no signs of slowing down in its endeavour to get what it wanted; forcing Isabel to do things she would never have contemplated before.

Paul had heard two muffled 'crumps' from upstairs. He could hear the shower running too, and assumed that the 'crumps' where from Isabel. He was not sure whether he should go and check that she was OK, but could hardly walk in on her if she was fine. He then clearly heard her cries, and knew then, that she wasn't just taking a shower. He assumed that Philip had joined her and that consequently, it was none of his business. He tried to concentrate on finding the stop cock and figure out how he could get to the tap, which had obviously been secured before the sink was then fixed in place. But he stopped again when her heard further cries and expletives radiating through the ceiling. He found that suddenly, trying to concentrate, was not the only problem he had. He now had another, and this one was growing fast.

When Isabel entered the room, it was like a different woman stood before him. He was suddenly grateful for the fact that he was sitting on the floor with the two doors to her under-sink cupboard resting on a chair, directly before him. Breaking Isabel's eyeline to his crotch, but nor interfering with his at all.

Paul's practised eyes took in the woman before him. Her wavy brown hair, had been wrapped over her left shoulder and fell to just below her breast. It was impossible not to notice that her pert, sizable breasts were bra-less; her erratic breathing inducing an extremely enticing jiggle, made more so by Isabel's very hard and discernible nipples. Her unfettered breasts and Isabel herself, appeared proud in displaying the nubs of erectile tissue. The tee-shirt she wore was so thin, that he could make out her crinkled areola, clearly. The view did not help his constitution in the slightest. He noted too, that she was no-longer wearing the glasses that did nothing to enhance her facial appearance, yet without them, she was completely transformed from a 'plane Jane', to a 'woman of interest'. "There you are, I was beginning to get worried."

"Worried? How so?" Isabel fidgeted and began to move a little closer, trying to get a better view of his crotch area. As he was sitting cross-legged, she was hoping that more of this lovely man was going to be visible.

" I heard a couple of bangs upstairs, then some cries. I wasn't sure whether you had fallen over or collapsed or something. Awkward moment that. I didn't want to burst in on you if nothing had happened, and was rather hoping that Philip would step in and check on you, which I think I heard him do, so I felt better after that."

"Oh, that is nice, nice to think you wanted to come to my rescue." She stopped to think, that everything this man did or said, seemed to endear him to her all the more.

"Philip is still asleep though, it would take an earthquake to wake him, and even then, I am not sure. I....just tripped over my...trouser leg."

Paul accepted the obvious lie. He did not want to think too much about it. As he needed to get himself under control, but her flagrant nipples and shower-fresh smell, were not conducive to that. "I had no idea your hair was that long?" He said changing the subject. "I think that today is the first time I have seen you with it down. If I may say, I much prefer it that way. Not that it is any business of mine. And you are not wearing your glasses?"

Isabel could not stop her blush from returning. "Why thank you. I will wear my hair down more often, just for you." She giggled, letting him know that she was messing with him a little. "The glasses I wear far too much. I don't need them on, for anything but distance really, so I must learn to do better and not hide behind them."

Paul suddenly realised the honesty behind that statement. She was wearing them to hide behind. When actually, she was a very pretty woman certainly with her hair down. He felt his slowly dwindling penis, start to surge again, so stopped that thought where it was and got himself back on track. "So, I found it, under the sink. That bit was easy, removing the tap to replace it, not so easy. Whoever installed it used 'hard-lines' directly to the tap, and obviously fixed the tap in place before bedding in the sink. To replace it, the sink will have to come out. A much bigger job."

Isabel's mind was on Paul's words, but she only picked up on certain of them, 'hard, bedding, have to come and much bigger'. She found her chest was heaving again, and knew she was once more in trouble as her nipples rubbed upon the tight cloth of the tee-shirt. "Oh, that sounds like it is a big job? Are you still able to do it?" Now her words were once again, laced with innuendo.

"I can, but not today I'm afraid, I have a client swinging by in about twenty minutes, so I must leave it until tomorrow? Assuming that is convenient? In the meantime, you will have to be careful that you don't go getting yourself all wet again."

Isabel saw Paul's eyes as they travelled to her breasts and stayed there watching them bounce in her tee-shirt as her breathing became more and more heavy. She was gripping the chair in front of Paul, so tightly, the whites of her knuckles were showing. "Philip is away on a work conference," she blurted out, uncertain suddenly, why she had said it. "But I'll make sure I know what he wants done, so that you can go ahead and do it tomorrow." She paused to catch her breath as he stood, but was again disappointed that she saw nothing more of him, and in truth, further disappointed that, he must have known she wasn't wearing a bra, he had certainly looked at her breasts enough times; but it had not induced in him, the reaction she was after.

"What sort of work is it you do Paul? Strange that I have never asked? You said you have a client coming?"

"Photographer. I'm self-employed, so do whatever is asked of me really. Portraits, family photo's boudoir, landscapes, even animals." He laughed in that rich, deep, baritone of his.

"Boudoir, what sort of photography is boudoir?"

Paul was about to explain when he heard a car outside. "Blast, I think they are here early. I'll have to run. I'll show you some pictures tomorrow if you are interested. Do you mind the doors staying off for now? Would only need to take them off again tomorrow anyway."

"No that is fine, and yes, I would love to have a look at your photos tomorrow."

"Great, well I have a 10.00 o'clock, which will last two hours, then I'm free for the rest of the day. So, nip round then for a coffee, say 12.00? Now I'm sorry but I must dash. See you tomorrow."

Isabel stood in the kitchen shivering, and not from the cold either. Her body was making demands of her, that had completely transgressed her comfort zones and it felt like it had no concerns how much further it would go, to get what it wanted. She felt excited by that prospect, but also knew that she would never have the courage to follow it through. 'What would her Italian, Catholic mother think, were she still alive?' Isabel smiled, realising that her blood was up, and mother or not, she was not really interested what she would think. She had a mind to get what she wanted.

Philip left early for his conference the next day. Isabel purposefully stayed in bed until he had gone, then got up and took her morning shower. Her body was already tingling and she knew her level of excitement, was not much reduced from where she had left it the following day. As she towelled herself down, she contemplated what she would wear. She had already decided to wear a dress, and had a number of light summer dresses, that she rarely wore, but were ideal as it was already quite warm out. She picked the one that buttoned up completely at the front. Then she went through her underwear draw and found, all of a sudden, that she disliked all of her knickers. She made the decision that all, would need changing. Bra-wise was little better. She picked something to wear, and looking at the clock, noted she had three hours to spare, so decided to get some more 'appropriate' underwear from the shops. What was considered appropriate however, she was not clear on in her head? She selected some open toed sandals that had a four-inch heel on them, not particularly sexy, but dressier than her normal flat sole, or jogging shoes that she would commonly wear.

She set about preening her hair, the soft curls that were in it, completely natural, the sheen and bounce pleasing, even to her. She started to put it up in her usual bun, but then remembering her words to Paul, left it loose, to splay about her shoulders. Isabel rarely wore make-up, she felt uncomfortable in her skill of applying it, but she put on her favourite lip gloss, just to enhance her face a little. Though why she was doing that, she wasn't sure? It was almost like she was giving herself up to this man and therefore wanted to make herself more appealing to him? Clearing that thought from her head, she headed out to the car and the shops.

Paul's client was a model. She first wanted him to take some pictures for her portfolio, which he did within the hour, she then wanted him to take some pictures of her in various types of very sexy lingerie. She was going for an audition to model this sort of clothing, so, it made sense to have some pictures included in the portfolio. Although the lingerie and the model were extremely enticing, Paul was the consummate professional when doing the shots. He had to be, anything less and he would lose a reputation that he had spent years in the making. For the two-hour session, Paul would look to take 150 pictures as a minimum, and double that a maximum. This of course usually depended on the model. As his current client was used to posing before a camera, and for him, he ended up with about 195 images.

"Ok, all done. We need to wrap it there. I have another client coming at 12.00. That, was a good session. We'll meet again next week, same time, to go over the shoot. For that I would suggest three hours minimum."

"Ok Paul, I really can't wait to see what you have done."

"Not me, you, I just point a camera and shoot. Easy really."

"Yeah, I'm not buying it. See you next week at 10.00."

Isabel had walked into the lingerie shop in the high-street, and two metres in, felt out of her depth. There was so much to choose from, all looked either far too revealing, uncomfortable, impractical, down-right rude, or far too sexy, for her to contemplate. She was floundering. Luckily a pretty female assistance arrived to rescue her.

"Hello, can I help you? What is it you are looking for today?"

Isabel was about to dismiss her, as she felt herself colour in embarrassment immediately, but then changed her mind, she wanted this, heaven knew her underwear selection in the past was dubious at the very best. "Well," she said coyly, "I am after some matching sets of underwear."

"Ok, well that is easy, lucky for madam, she has walked into an underwear shop!" The shop assistant laughed, putting Isabel a little at ease. "So, do you know your size, or do you need me to measure you? And what are you after, practical, stylish or sexy?"

"I know the size that I normally buy, yes, but I also know that my choices in the past have not been great. So yes, please measure me, and I'm looking for stylish and sexy. Though truthfully, more sexy than stylish."

"OK, that's fine. If you would like to have a look about the shop and make some choices, I can then take you back to the changing rooms, measure you up and go from there?"

"If you don't mind, I don't really have a clue what is considered to be sexy. So perhaps, you could measure me and you pick some items for me to try?"

"As you wish. This way to the changing rooms."

Isabel left the shop two hours later. She had never done something like that before and although the shop assistant was a woman, she felt as uncomfortable as if she were standing in the middle of the high-street, naked. Still the job was done and she could not wait to get home to try on her new haul. She knew even before she had entered the shop, that she was not buying these things for Philip, she was not buying them for herself either, though you could argue she had an ulterior motive? No, she was buying them for/because of, Paul. Which meant, she also had the intention of showing him? That revelation, hit her like a freight-train and lit a dormant fire within her. A fire which had remained dormant, until yesterday. Now she knew she had every intention of throwing some more wood onto it, and to bathe within its heat.

Back home, she shrugged out of her summer dress, removed her bra and knickers, and threw them in the bin. She then slipped on a very scanty pair of panties. She had never worn thong-style panties before and they made her body begin to shiver once more in anticipation. The black panties had a white inlaid thread of silk about the waist, with a little white bow at the centre. There was a corresponding 'V' which paradoxically emulated her vulva. She captured her breasts in the push-up bra, noting that her nipples were already commanding the peaks, and intending to hold that position against all invaders. The bra had a similar thread of silk and a bow, and had a decorational piece that ran across the top of each breast. For the first time ever, Isabel had a bra that gave her a cleavage. A cleavage, that had even her gasping. And a bra that was not only functional, but extremely sexy too.

As she stood before her mirror, her courage began to crumble. "What are you doing Izzy? What are your intentions here? What are you hoping to get out of this?" She left the questions unanswered and slipped her dress back on, of course covering fully the delights she had so recently adorned. Reapplying her lip gloss, she left for her appointment with her neighbour, barely able to contain the excitement that was growing inside her, already making her new panties wet in her eagerness.

As she got to the bottom of her drive, she stood on the threshold of Paul's property, knowing that if she crossed over, then she had already given herself the answers to the questions she had voiced earlier. Stepping onto his property would mean she had made up her mind and at that point, there really was no going back. And if she did, what was she going back to? A life of boring sex, a loveless partnership of mis-matched people, and the probability of dying of boredom. She didn't want any of that. Even if nothing happened, the transgression was still real, because her intention was there. As she stood there prevaricating, an extremely beautiful woman walked down the driveway to her car, an orange Porsche Boxster. Her fabulously long legs and impossibly short skirt showed that the woman exuded confidence. As she got in the car, and moved to close the door, she spotted Isabel and smiled, a warm greeting, at the same time presenting her with an overhead view of her stupendous breasts, crammed into the small top. Isabel had stopped in her tracks.

The woman left in a flurry of screeching tires and engine revs, leaving Isabel with a sudden loss of all confidence. There was not a single thing she could compete with that girl on. Her height, legs, hair, breasts or dress sense. She simply exuded sex appeal. 'What would Paul think of her in comparison, having just had that lovely woman posing for him? Assuming that is what they had been doing?' The smile upon the beautiful woman's face, made Isabel think that something else had happened between them. She suddenly convinced herself that Paul would have, 'had' her? She was stunning after all. Turning back to her property, she was of a mind to bail out. Looking down at herself, she had thought she was being sexy. And for her, she was being down-right raunchy, but compared to that woman, she felt, she could not have looked plainer. She undid a few more buttons on her dress to reveal her breasts and cleavage, but then thought, she was just fooling herself and wasting her time. She was completely out of that girl's league.

"Hello Isabel, are you coming?"

Isabel jumped and flushed yet again, as she always seemed to do in the presence of this man. She had not realised he was standing by his front door, watching her. 'God he would have seen me undo the buttons on my dress? Oh, I don't know what I am doing? Am I coming, is it that obvious?'

"I must say, you look particularly stunning today. I love the dress and shoes, and your hair, as I said, looks so much better down." He looked at her lips, noticing the lip-gloss, something he had never seen her wear. "Come in, don't be shy. Now would you like a coffee?"

"Yes," Isabel squeaked, walking over the door step and across the threshold in her mind. She had made up her mind it would seem and her body was trembling in anticipation. In the kitchen, Paul flitted about, setting up the coffee machine. Isabel looked about, noticing the subtle influences of a woman about the décor, obviously Paul's deceased wife. She desperately tried not to look at him; not to get herself more excited, but it was hopeless, and she caved in very quickly.

"How do you like it, Isabel?"

"I'm sorry..?" She panted back at him.

"The coffee. How do you like your coffee?"

"Oh, don't suppose you have cream and demerara?"

"Of course, that's how I like it too." Paul finished making the coffees and handed one to her. "There, we are; so, did Philip set off ok?"