Jemima's Tale Pt. 01

He knelt down in front of my face and I opened my eyes. I was surprised to see that he was already fully dressed. His hand reached down, tilting my chin up to look at him. I felt myself blush again, thinking of the intimacy that I had just shared with this stranger, feeling vulnerable yet terrible aroused at the same time.

His steady gaze held mine and I heard him say: "I've got to go. Be here next week. Same time..." His blue eyes flickered over my lingerie-clad body and my heart missed a beat as he added: "...and be ready for me."

Then he stood and was gone.

As I drifted off to sleep, vaguely aware of the kitchen door closing (...is that how he got in?...) behind my new lover, (...you don't even know his name...) I knew that my life had changed forever. Twenty-eight years of repression and denial had been brought to a climax - literally - by letting Jemima, myself, express those deepest longings to make love to a man. Now that it had finally happened and I had lost my virginity for a second - and maybe third - time, I knew that it no longer mattered whether it was 'strange' to enjoy adopting a particular type of feminine sexual role. It was neither right or wrong, it was just how it was.

All I knew was that I derived the most unbelievable excitement from being taken by a strong demanding male, teasing and pandering to his wildest sexual fantasies, then pleasing him and also myself, by acquiescing to his unleashed lusts. I had always imagined that this was true, and now I had real experience to back it up.

I had a whole week to plan my appearance for this next rendezvous. Just enough time for a mail-order purchase to arrive... or should I stay all-innocent in white, now that I knew how well it worked? Maybe he'd appreciate my lovely, frilly, maids outfit?...

He wouldn't know what hit him...