Pamela Ch. 01: Beginnings

I first met Pamela when she was nearly thirty and we've been together for almost seven years. She's five years younger than I am, slim, platinum blonde and gorgeous. I don't quite know what she sees in me so I have to work hard to keep fit, mainly running, to make sure I'm up to the job, if you see what I mean!

A few weeks ago we drove home after work together almost in silence. At first, I thought I must have done something wrong but when I asked her she said it wasn't anything like that and she was just tired so I didn't press it. When we got home I told her I was going for a run and she just nodded so I changed and set off without another word.

When I got back, I found her in the kitchen and she seemed to be her usual self so I headed off to the bathroom to shower. As we wouldn't be going out again that evening, afterwards I just pulled on my favourite black robe and came downstairs looking for a beer and thinking about the cricket that would be on the TV. Pamela was nowhere to be seen so I poured myself a drink in the kitchen and took it into the lounge and settled down on one of the two armchairs that sat on both ends of the large coffee table before the fire, the sofa between them facing the fire.

About twenty minutes later, I was just thinking about another beer when the lounge door opened quietly and Pamela walked in carrying a bottle of champagne and two flutes. I nearly dropped my drink. Wearing glasses, she was dressed in just a red and black corset that fitted under her tiny breasts and pushed them up, black suspender belt, matching stockings and stilettos. And as I tried desperately to drag my eyes away from her perfectly smooth slit, I knew she wore nothing else other than the crimson lipstick and matching fingernails she knew drove me wild.

Open mouthed and wide-eyed, I said nothing as she slowly came over and stood on the opposite side of the coffee table to lean over to place the bottle and flutes in the centre of it then, glancing up and knowing my eyes were fixed on her rock-hard nipples, she smiled before moving around to sit on the edge of the table right in front of me with her thighs together, her hands on her knees and the tip of her tongue pressing out erotically between her crimson lips.

"How's the game?" she purred, reaching for the remote and punching a key to turn off the TV.

"Fine ... just fine," I stammered illogically. "England have just taken another wicket and ..."

"Shhh!" she whispered, a fingertip over her lips and I stopped blathering. "That's better. Would you like some champagne? I would. Perhaps you would do the honours ...?"

Leaning forward to stand, I was conscious I was rock-hard as I moved around her to stand in front of the sofa to wrestle with the cork. I heard her laugh quietly as it popped. Quickly filling two flutes, I handed her one and returned to my place opposite, taking a gulp.

"I thought we might have a talk about something?" she began. "By the way, do you like the way this thing makes my tits look bigger?"

I just nodded, glancing down to where the partial cups under her breasts pushed them together deliciously.

"Well," she went on, taking a sip from her flute and stroking her thigh with her free hand, "I wanted to tell you something. I nearly told you in the car but I thought you might run off the road - that's why I was quiet, sorry."

"That's no problem," I replied with a smile, wondering what the hell she was going to say. In truth, I wasn't worried in the sense that she was about to tell me she was leaving me as why would she dress like a whore to do it? Besides, she was as turned on as I was if the state of her nipples was anything to go by, not to mention she had obviously freshly shaved her pussy while I had been out running which she knew I loved. Not exactly the preparation to end a relationship. I breathed easy and took another sip.

She too was obviously struggling with her nerves as she tried to marshal her thoughts. I waited expectantly, allowing my eyes to fall to her nipples, the same ones I loved to lick, suck and nip. And yes, her tits did look bigger, although, at 32A cup it was asking a lot for the corset to produce a cleavage deep enough to bury my cock inside. At last she began to speak.

"When we first moved in together," she began, adjusting her glasses slightly, "if you remember, I asked you how many previous partners you had had and you said six. I replied that I had had four and we laughed as if it was funny and then I asked that we don't ever say anything about them to each other as if we were pretending to be virgins, at least to each other. Remember?"

I nodded again, not sure where this was going, desperately trying to stop visions in my mind's eye of my earlier conquests.

"Go on," I encouraged, smiling wanly and reaching for my drink a little nervously prompting her to do the same.

"OK," she continued, with a deep breath, "when I said I had had four previous partners, what I didn't tell you was that they were all women."

I was astonished but tried to keep what I thought was a straight face while I waited to see if there was more. There was.

"So," she added, smiling, "you are the only man I have ever had. I was a cock virgin when we met."

I was lost for words but smiled back at her, shaking my head slightly.

"I don't know quite what to say," I replied at last. "What are you trying to tell me, that you're a lesbian?"

With that, she slid off the coffee table onto her knees in front of me and reached forward to take the tie of my robe in both hands and slipped it open before easing the robe apart to reveal my naked body with a still rock-hard cock. Taking it in both hands, she lowered her head and I felt it slip deep inside her mouth. Gagging slightly as it hit the back of her throat, she lifted her head slightly before starting to suck.

"Oh!" I gasped, resting my hands on her platinum blonde head as I threw my head back against the back of the sofa. "Not so fast! Not so fast!"

With a smiling face, she lifted her head and looked up at me.

"Do I look like a lesbian? Do I act like a lesbian?" she whispered, shaking her head. "No, baby, I'm no lesbian, I'm your girl just how you like her to be but, underneath, I like the best of both worlds."

"You're bisexual," I uttered, confirming everything. "I had no idea."

"And you're alright with it?" she asked, her face losing its smile. "Please tell me you are. I don't know what ..."

"Well, I don't know exactly what difference it makes," I admitted, "to you and me, I mean."

"Baby, as far as our relationship together is concerned, it doesn't mean a thing," she said earnestly, slowly massaging the shaft of my cock. "We're rock solid, you and me. Always will be."

Pamela paused a moment.

"I'm not sure how many guys have had their girl say this to them," she continued, her slight smile restored, "but one difference might be that I want us to bring other women into our bed who we both find sexy but with no strings attached."

"No strings attached," I repeated, finding the whole episode surreal. "What do you mean?"

She leaned forward so her face was close to mine and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"Meaning, baby, that I want to taste another girl's pussy on your cock," she whispered. "Wouldn't you like that?"

I opened my eyes wide, almost incredulous. She waited, smiling.

"So what you're saying is we carry on exactly as before, neither of us fooling around, being completely faithful to each other but, a bit like we both fancy a pizza take-away on a Friday night, we might decide to follow it by sharing a big-tittied blonde in bed for afters," I suggested. "Have I got that right?"

"Nearly," she replied, slowly nodding. "Only assuming we both find the blonde attractive and we both want her in our bed. If one of us doesn't, then she doesn't get any pizza, let alone anything afterwards. We both have to want her. Do you see what I mean?"

"Yes," I affirmed, nodding, "but how do we make this work? I mean, we can't exactly put an ad in the local paper - I can see it now: slim sexy bisexual platinum blonde in her mid-thirties wishes to find bisexual anal-loving lady around the same age to join her and her straight lover for threesome fun'."

"Why not?" she replied, her serious look a fixture. "Not in the local paper but on the right website I'm sure we would get some interest. Even including the anal bit. Let's try, we will use pseudonyms so no-one will know who we really are. It will be fun."

"OK," I agreed, less than convinced, "but what if it doesn't get a result? Do we engage an escort?"

"No, no escorts," she emphasised, shaking her head. "Not at first, anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "Does the idea of paying for sex turn you on?"

"Yes," she admitted, smiling, "with a woman, it does, but that's for another day. I have another idea we might try first, along with the website idea."

"And that is?" I asked, prompting her to drop her head again and take my cock all the way inside her mouth again before pulling out a little to start sucking. "Oh baby, slow down, I'm too turned on!"

She lifted her head again and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, starting to smile.

"Do you want to see how turned on I am?" she whispered. "I can show you."

"Not yet," I begged, knowing what she liked to do to show me was to lie on her back and draw up her knees to her tits then reach down with both hands to spread her pussy lips wide open, a series of actions guaranteed to result in my burying my cock inside her to fuck her like a madman. "Not yet, we haven't finished talking. What's your other idea?"

She held my cock with both hands as she prepared herself to speak, looking up at me.

"Our previous lovers," she said quietly before waiting to see my reaction.

"Our previous ...," I repeated loudly, utterly incredulous. "I don't understand. You said we both had to want the girl before we invited her into our bed. How do we know that? I've never even met your ex-lovers and as far as mine are concerned, I can't imagine any of them wanting anything to do with me ever again other than murdering me."

"Even Nichola?" she replied quietly, her eyes shining.

"Nichola!" I exclaimed, astonished. "How do you know about her? We said ..."

"Or maybe Alison?" she interrupted. "Or perhaps you might prefer Melanie?"

"How the hell did you find out about them?" I asked, incredulously, with more than a touch of distaste, not to mention embarrassment.

Pamela lowered her head and just kissed the tip of my cock before looking up again.

"My dear Mr McMahon," she replied, in her best school-mistress voice. "If you wish to keep something from me, you will have to do better than to leave a summary of your previous conquests as a page-marker in one of your favourite dirty magazines."

I groaned. Yes, why the hell I still kept my stash of porn at the back of my wardrobe so it could easily be found I couldn't explain. But what was she doing rooting through my stuff. My facial expression gave the game away for my next question.

"Baby, baby," she stalled, smiling. "I'm bisexual, remember. I swing both ways. I'm not like you in being heavily turned on visually but, occasionally, when you are away on business, I feel like looking at naked girls. It's alright, I'm not upset, and you're a red-blooded guy. What I didn't expect to find though was a commentary on your relationships with all the details included. So Jane was your first girl? Tell me about her."

I groaned aloud.

"So you read everything?" I stated, not asked, a statement that was rewarded by another dip of her head and several deep sucks of my cock, bringing it right back to hardness.

"Tell me about her," she repeated, lifting her head just long enough to speak before returning to suck but a little less severe.

"What do you want to ...?" I began to ask before giving up. "OK, she was eighteen, someone at school in the same year. We were each other's first real relationship."

Pamela lifted her head, replacing her lips with both of her hands around my shaft and looked up at me.

"What was she like?" she asked. "To look at, I mean."

I allowed my mind's eye to conjure up an image of Jane, one I always remember as it was the one that attracted me to her in the first place.

"She was quite short with long golden blonde hair and a really pretty face," I began, "but what really attracted me to her in the first place was that, generally, she wore a skirt and she had pretty good legs and a nice tight round arse."

"What a surprise!" retorted Pamela, smiling. "Typical arse-man, go on."

"Go on?" I repeated. "What else do you want to know?"

She released my cock and, still on her knees, edged nearer to me so her upholstered tits were in my face. Using both hands, she pulled my head forwards so my mouth was at her left nipple. Instinctively, I took it between my lips and sucked it. After a few seconds, she eased my head back and to the left to be presented with her right nipple which received the same treatment. She returned my attention to her left nipple and I heard her gasp as I used my teeth to nip it before doing the same to the right, prompting another gasp. She was as high as a kite.

Edging back, she allowed my head to fall back again and lowered her face to mine and lightly kissed me on the lips

"Tell me about her breasts," she whispered, almost breathlessly, prompting another silence of surprise from me. What a question from one girl about another.

"They were good," I began after a few seconds, picturing Jane's puppies in my mind's eye as best I might after all the years since I saw them. "She was a D-cup as I recall and her nipples were huge."

Pamela groaned and lowered her head again to take my cock inside her mouth, sucking the bell-end gently and running her tongue all over it and inside my hole. I then knew what the conversation had been leading towards: she was turned on by tits. Quickly, I tested my deduction.

"She used to like it when I lay on my back," I went on, "and she would crawl on all fours so her tits would hang into my face so I could suck them."

"Ohhhhhhh!" she groaned again, my cock still in her mouth.

"She liked to watch herself in the mirror while I was doing it," I added, knowing that that was something that turned Pamela on like hell, prompting another groan of arousal accompanied by a few seconds of frantic sucking, so much that I had to use my hands on her head to push her away to avoid cumming.

"Easy, baby," I gasped. "Easy."

"I've never known you stop me sucking you off so many times before," she said, looking up at me with a smile on her face. "Do I sense you're enjoying this?"

I laughed.

"What do you think?" I replied. "Not many guys get to talk to their girl about others they have had."

"But I'm not just any girl," she replied, massaging my shaft gently. "I'm your girl."

"Too right," I admitted gratefully, looking down into her smiling eyes, not quite sure what to say in response.

"So, Jane was the first girl you ever fucked?" she said, after a moment or two of silence. "How did it come about?"

"Well, as both of us still lived at home, we didn't get too many chances to be alone together, but we made it one lunchtime in her bedroom at her house," I replied, recalling the end of innocence for both of us. "I wore a condom and it was all over in a few minutes, partly because I was frightened to death of one of her parents coming home from work for lunch."

"You did missionary?" she asked, smiling. "You on top?"

"Yes," I admitted, almost embarrassed as if I was ashamed my first time hadn't been more adventurous but I was so much on edge, "but for the second time, I was on my back and she sat on top of me so I could reach up and play with her tits. That was better and it lasted a little longer."

"Did she cum?" she asked, still massaging my shaft as she looked up at me.

"I don't think so," I replied. "To be honest, I was trying so hard not to cum myself it was difficult to sense how it was for her. It was later when I realised if she made me cum first before entering her, I could keep it going for ages.

"So she sucked you off?" she asked with a smile, lowering her head to suck the head of my cock deliciously for a few seconds before looking up at me again for a response. I shook my head and said Jane just held a tissue for me to wank off into.

"She didn't know what she was missing," she replied mischievously, repeating it for a few seconds more. "I assume she found out soon enough?"

"No, she never wanted to do that," I observed with evident regret. "In fact she was pretty straight-laced in general. I remember trying to get her to wear stockings for me but she wouldn't have anything of it. Then we went off to separate universities and it sort of fizzled out after a while, mainly because she met some other guy. I was upset for a while but soon got over it."

"OK, it's my turn," she said. "Edge forward."

I wriggled my arse forward so it rested on the edge of the chair, leaning back against the cushion with my head. Then, she climbed forward with her stockinged knees to straddle my thighs, adjusting herself until she was able to reach behind her to take my cock and guide it into her cunt, settling herself, her tiny tits in my face. She had been telling the truth: she was as turned on as I was. Fuck, she felt good.

"OK," she began as I took one of her nipples into my mouth and sucked it before doing the same with the other, "I was nineteen when I had my first relationship. I was still living at my parents' house and had had one or two 'dates' with boys from school and around the village but they didn't last. To be honest, all the boys went for the girls who had what I didn't have: tits, so I wasn't 'popular' in that sense.

"But you do have tits!" I protested, cupping my hands over her little mounds and squeezing them. "I love your tits!"

"Yeah, but not like what some of the girls had," she rebutted. "Anyway, as I didn't go to university, I got a job but needed to earn more to try to save to get a flat so did some babysitting, usually on Friday and Saturday evenings. I quite liked doing it as it was easy money and I didn't have to travel far, usually being run home afterwards or put into a taxi."

At that point, she started to slowly rotate her hips, grinding down on my cock so I took both her nipples between my fingertips and squeezed then, something I knew she enjoyed. She moaned pleasurably for a second or two before continuing.

"Well, one evening," she continued, "as I was about to leave, the mother of the little boy I was babysitting asked me if I would consider house-sitting for a friend of hers who lived a little further from the village. Even though I didn't really understand what house-sitting meant, I said I would be happy to so she gave me the lady's number to call her and I did. She sounded a lot of fun so we agreed I would go over on the following Saturday to look after her place while she went to a concert or something."

As she continued grinding onto my cock, I reached around to cup her fabulous arse-cheeks and squeezed them.

"As it was further away than normal, I took a bus to get there," she continued, "and the lady said she would book me a taxi home which was fine. Anyway, I turned up to find everything as I expected it to be. Her cottage was beautiful, old and quaint with a lovely garden. The lady, Nico her name was, was really nice and I felt quite comfortable from the start. I had assumed there would be a cat or a dog to see to but it turned out it was just the house: Nico just didn't like leaving it with no-one in. Anyway, everything went fine: no-one came to the door so I sat and watched TV and gorged myself on the chocolates and grapes Nico had left for me until she returned in a taxi, keeping it for me to get home."