Sally's Story

Why was I here? What was I doing? I was a respectable married woman, not a slut, a whore. Not a lesbian, a dyke, not even curious. Yet here I was, voluntarily, being told to .. told to ... turn over.

I rolled as I was bid. I could feel my cheeks being gently parted. A drop or two of spittle. The pad of a lubricated finger persuading my hole to accept every small sensation, every new feeling. My bum-hole having such exquisite ahhhh. A small push in and ahhhh!!! A little faster now aaahhhh! Helen's other hand moving under, skillfully seeking my ahhhhhh!!!! My clit being tenderly but rapidly ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!! My anus, my bum-hole being aaaaaahhhhhhhhh. My senses being molested. The rhythm, the speed, the pressure, the aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

My touch paper had been ignited. I could feel tension building up in the nub of my clit, spread outwards. An intense build up spreading outwards, more and more. The explosion built rapidly more and more and more and more and

OH MY GOD!!!!

Like a ripple, no a full wave of utter pleasure, utter release of tension radiated out and upwards into my belly.

Wave after wave came, surge after surge. Then finally peace, relaxation and a wonderful glow.

"That, my dear Sally, is a PROPER orgasm."

No explanation. Nothing.

We hugged, we cuddled together until all sensations had subsided.

I got dressed again, still glowing. We went down to the bar to meet the men and have a last drink.

Helen and Mike flew back home 2 days later. She and I exchanged mobile numbers and addresses.

She lives only 25 miles away and there is an excellent bus service between the two towns. I could imagine the bus ticket already there in my hand.

And Brian?

He could have my soiled panties.