tagExhibitionist & VoyeurSweet Gwendoline Ch. 07

Sweet Gwendoline Ch. 07

bySchlank©

My life is different from other people's lives.

First of all, I have a lesbian girlfriend who likes to expose my naked body in public.

Secondly, I have a lesbian mistress who likes to tie me up and subject me to corporal punishment and other things that are painful and humiliating.

And perhaps the most unusual thing of all, is that I usually enjoy the things that my lesbian girlfriend and my lesbian mistress do to me.

As you might have guessed, I don't share this information with everyone. There are a lot of people out there who would have a hard time dealing with it. I'm sure you can understand that.

My mother is one of the many, many people who I don't share this information with. In point of fact, I was nervous as a lost kitten at the mere prospect of coming out to my mom as a lesbian. I kept planning on telling her, but I was so nervous about that I kept finding excuses to put it off.

I probably would have put it off for years, but then one day I got home to my humble apartment, my mother was there waiting for me.

"Mom?" I asked timidly when I saw her sitting on my couch.

"Gwen," my mother responded cheerfully. She set her wineglass down and came over to give me a hug. My mom rarely visited my apartment building and she'd never dropped by unannounced before.

"Your friend, Julie invited me over," my mother explained, "She said you had some important news and you wanted to deliver it in person."

I suddenly felt a cold chill and about a second later my heart was thudding in my throat and all I could hear was my blood pulsing in my head. I went from cold chill to feverish heat in about two seconds and I could feel sweat soaking my forehead, breasts and my underarms. I was finally going to have to talk to my mother about my sexual orientation and I was panicking.

"Julie," I called out weakly, "Can I talk to you in private for just a minute or two?"

"Are you alright, dear?" my mother asked, "You look flush."

"I'm fine, Mom," I said unconvincingly and I made my way on wobbly legs to over where Julie was standing.

"Are you insane?" I whispered as I tried to herd Julie back towards her bedroom, "I am not ready to have this talk with her! You should have given me more time to get ready!"

"Gwen, you are never going to be more ready than you are now," Julie whispered back, "I've revised and proofread and re-revised that speech for you about six or seven times now. You've rehearsed this thing so many times, you've probably got it memorized. You just need to be brave for twenty seconds and say the words out loud to your mother's face!"

I took a deep breath and felt like I was going to faint.

"Oh God," I said.

"I'm right here for emotional support," Julie said.

"Oh God," I said again.

"I'll get you a glass of wine," Julie said and then she scurried off towards the kitchen.

Soon I had a glass of cabernet sauvignon in my hand and I drank down the whole glass in one swallow. I felt slightly calmer and began to walk towards the kitchen to pour myself another glass, but Julie grabbed me by the hips and pushed me forward and in the direction of my patiently waiting mother.

The look on my mother's face was polite, but her patience was not inexhaustible. If I didn't start talking soon, it was going to get awkward, and she was going to get upset.

"Mom, I'm gay," I said, feeling as if I just stepped off the edge of a very tall cliff, "That's the important news I wanted to tell you."

"Yes dear," my mother replied, "I appreciate you telling me, but I already knew."

For several seconds I was struck speechless. I stood there mute, attempting to process the words. She already knew? How could she already know?

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said, sounding like a confused twelve-year old, "Did you just say that you already knew?"

"Honey, I figured it out about six or seven years ago," my mother told me, "When all the other, less-attractive girls your age were going out on dates with boys, you were staying home. Plus you had all those posters of Claudia Black up in your room."

I felt flustered and then I made some stuttering sounds, but finally recovered enough to say, "The Claudia Black posters were from when I used to watch Farscape! That was a good TV show! I seem to recall you watched Farscape too!"

"Yes, Farscape was an excellent TV show," my mother conceded, "Of course the star of that show was actually Ben Browder. It's funny how you never put up any Ben Browder posters up in your room."

I made some more stuttering noises and remembered that Julie had written me a speech. It was a well-written speech. I was supposed to memorize the words and say them to my mother. Why couldn't I remember any of the words from the damn speech?

"It's okay, honey," my mother said and laid one of her hands on top of mine. It wasn't until her hand touched mine that I realized that my hands were twitching about like a flock of startled doves, "I'm okay with having a gay daughter. And if Julie is your girlfriend, I'm okay with that too."

I almost laughed at that last part. Julie was straight. She had been dating a boy named Gabriel and they were both set to get married as soon as they both graduated from college.

"No, Julie is straight," I replied, feeling somewhat more normal and grounded now that I finally knew something that my mother didn't.

"Well, straight-ish," Julie replied from over near the wine bottle in the kitchen.

I looked over my shoulder and gave Julie and three-second long stare.

"What do you mean, straight-ish?" I asked.

"I rank a two on the Kinsey scale," Julie explained.

"I don't get it," I said, sounding and feeling confused, "I don't know what the Kinsey scale is. I've never heard of it."

Julie set a wine glass down on the kitchen counter and began to pour some dark liquid into her glass from the wine bottle.

"We learned about it in college," Julie explained and then she took a sip of her wine.

"The Kinsey scale is a scientific scale created by Doctor Alfred Kinsey to measure a person's sexual orientation. If I rated a zero, I'd be totally straight. If I'd rated a six, I'd be totally gay. But I rated a two. This means, I'm predominantly straight, but more than a little bit gay."

"Huh?" I asked.

"It means that she prefers boys," my mother translated, "But from time to time she finds herself sexually attracted to girls as well."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, suddenly feeling like I'd been lied to. I'd known Julie for four years and we'd lived together for two of those years. She'd never told me she was attracted to girls!

"You're attracted to girls?" I asked, "What about all those times you saw me naked after I got out of the shower?"

Julie just stood there for several seconds with an extraordinarily innocent look on her face and she finally responded, "Well, you have a very cute butt."

"Arghhhh," I exclaimed and held my glass out so Julie could pour more wine into it.

"Well, this has certainly been a day for revelations," my mother said calmly.

"You think?" I asked sarcastically.

I was stunned and upset at both Julie and my mother for the things they kept from me over the years, but eventually I drank enough wine and everything was alright between Julie, my mother and me.

* * * * * * * * *

Of course none of these revelations had the power to stop me from living my life. I still had to take dance lessons from Sandy so I could get good enough to go back to Riverside Entertainment and audition for Miss McVay again.

From my previous lessons with Sandy, I had a base to build upon, so my progress with her went much faster. I learned quicker. I was far more comfortable with the way my body was supposed to move. By the time I had finished up with an hour-long session on Thursday, Sandy told me I was ready and she called Miss. McVay to tell her I was ready for another audition.

Of course I was still nervous, but Sandy gave me a hug and a CD with music that she thought would be ideal for me to dance to. I held onto that CD like it was a good luck charm. It gave me more courage than it ought to have, but my life was crazy at that point. Hardly anything made sense anymore.

Lyndsay was thrilled that I had a second audition scheduled and she took me back to Erotische Dessous to buy me more clothes. She insisted that I needed to make certain that the clothes I wore to my next audition were sexy and easy to remove.

"It doesn't look good if it takes your six minutes to struggle to undo your bra clasp," Lyndsay explained to me, "Bra, panties, skirt, top-everything has got to come off quickly and easily-but you've got to look good when you're fully dressed too!"

Of course Claire was working that night and Claire was efficient and eager to please Lyndsay, giving Lyndsay her personal attention and rushing to get her whatever she wanted so that I could try it on.

Lyndsay had an eye for fine detail and no detail was so small that she couldn't fret over it and analyze it and work to build the perfect attire for my audition.

Were thongs better than cheeky panties? Were V-strings better than thongs? Was candy-apple red better than midnight-black? Did we want leather or lace? Should the bra fasten in the front or back? Was it better to have a top with eight buttons or seven? Or six? And should I wear stockings?

In the end, Lyndsay chose an outfit that consisted of white thong panties, no stockings, a strapless white underwire bra that fastened in the front, a white modal/spandex top with six buttons and a white miniskirt that was part cotton/part elastane and hugged my hips and buttocks, showing off all of my curves. It was somewhat tight and clingy, but just pull down the zipper and the skirt came off quickly and easily.

"All that white," Claire commented, "It makes her look kind of innocent and virginal."

"That's kind of the look I was going for," Lyndsay explained, "Some people really get turned on at the idea of taking something innocent and virginal, tearing off its clothes and turning it into a sex object. And not just men. Some women get off on that too. I think it'll make quite an impression on Miss McVay."

"Do you know Miss. McVay well?" Claire asked.

"Well enough," Lyndsay explained, "We've talked. She's told me a lot about her job. She's told me about auditions that have gone well. She's told me about auditions that have gone horrible. I think I know what she likes and what she doesn't like."

"So, you think she'll like me in this outfit?" I asked.

Lyndsay didn't even bother to answer. She just licked her lips and made a purring sound. Claire smiled. I was pretty sure that meant Miss. McVay would like it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Then came the day of the pool party. I told Lyndsay that I'd show up for the pool party at her mom's house, but I was still pretty nervous about it. I mean, what was her mom's opinion of her going to be? Don't parents usually get weird and overprotective when they meet the people who are having sex with their daughters?

Lyndsay and her mother live in Fairhaven, however they live in a very different part of Fairhaven than Julie and I live in.

Lyndsay and her mother live in the Olympic Heights section of Fairhaven. Or possibly it's Olympian Heights. Or even Olympus Heights. I can never seem to remember the proper way to say it. Anyway, it's the part of Fairhaven where the rich people live. Julie and I live in the section of Fairhaven where the working class people live.

Naturally, since Lyndsay and her mother live in the wealthy section of Fairhaven, I couldn't just drive up to their front door. I was stopped at a 10-foot tall gate and had to push a button and call Lyndsay on the intercom and have her buzz the gate open. Once I had driven in past the gate, the gate closed and locked behind me.

Lyndsay was happy to see me and welcomed me with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so thrilled that you're here, Gwen," Lyndsay gushed, "My mom is going to just adore you! Did you bring the suit I bought you?"

The suit she was referring to was a one-piece swimsuit that was too small for me. It was cut very high on the leg, so it left quite a bit of my lower butt cheeks exposed and the neckline was cut very low, causing me to expose a lot of cleavage. It was also very tight, and it rode up my butt crack. I didn't want to meet Lyndsay's mother dressed in that thing, but I knew better than to argue with Lyndsay. I'd tried that in the past, and arguing with her always resulted in things somehow getting even worse.

"I brought the suit," I told Lyndsay and I held up my purse. It was small enough that the suit easily fit in my purse with plenty of room to spare.

"Come on up to my bedroom, you can change there," Lyndsay said and she led me through her house.

I was kind of shocked at Lyndsay's bedroom. It was at least three times larger than my own bedroom, and she had a massive bed that could comfortably sleep four or five people. She also had a closet that was almost as big as my entire bedroom and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

"I love your room," I said, marveling at how nice it was.

"Yeah, I like it," Lyndsay said, not realizing how extraordinarily privileged she was, "Now take off your clothes, so you can get ready for the pool party."

I had stripped naked in front of Lyndsay multiple times, but somehow the way she watched me undress still made me uncomfortable.

And when we were both dressed in our swimsuits, I was still somewhat uncomfortable. I was baring a lot more skin than she was. Her swimsuit was cut much lower on the leg and pretty much covered her butt-cheeks completely. The same was true of her boobs. Hers were almost completely covered, whereas I was exposing a lot of cleavage.

Lyndsay had picked out both my bathing suit and hers, so it was no accident that I was baring a lot more skin than she was. She had planned in advance that I would be far more exposed and she would be far more respectable-looking.

Lyndsay took me by the hand and led me downstairs to the pool area. I took a deep breath and hoped Lyndsay's mother didn't think I looked too slutty.

I met Lyndsay's mother down at the pool and I instantly noticed a family resemblance between the two women.

They were both tall and slender. They both had a similar oval-shaped face with high cheekbones. They were both blonde and they both had blue eyes. They were both somewhat athletic looking, sort of like sprinters or long-distance runners.

A big difference between the two women was Lyndsay had a chronically mischievous look on her face, whereas her mother's face had a look of intelligence, serenity and kindness.

I was also somewhat in awe of how young Lyndsay's mother looked. Just from her looks alone, I would have guessed her to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, however Lyndsay assured me that he mother was in her late thirties, almost forty.

"Gwen, it's so nice to finally meet you," Mrs. Brie said as she came in close and her arms encircled me in an enthusiastic hug. It was a warm, friendly hug. It wasn't the sort that spoke of favors to be asked or a libido than needed attention, but an honest-to-god friendly welcoming hug.

"Lyndsay talks about you all the time. It's nice to have a face to put to all the stories my daughter has told me."

"Stories?" I asked, turning nervously to Lyndsay, "There are stories about me?"

"Only good stories," Lyndsay insisted.

"You make my daughter happy," Mrs. Brie insisted, "She could never say anything bad about you. You've got her under your spell."

"Oh," I said, relieved that there was no hidden agenda and no resentment towards me. Mrs. Brie was genuinely happy to meet me and she had no plans to interrogate me or question my ethics. She knew that I was involved in a sexual/romantic relationship with her daughter and she was totally comfortable with that. I felt all of the tension escape from body and realized I might actually enjoy this pool party.

"Well, Lyndsay makes me happy too," I countered, "So I guess we're even."

The pool party mostly consisted of Lyndsay showing off her skills on the diving board. She did forward dives, backward dives and even armstand dives. She was very graceful and athletic. I was impressed with her agility and strength. To my eye, she seemed more like a gymnast than a diver. And I was really impressed with her arm strength the first time I saw her do an armstand on the diving board.

Lyndsay had done about seven dives in a row, earning effusive praise and hugs from me, but finally it got to be repetitive Lyndsay being the only one displaying her skill, so I asked her mother if she wasn't going to dive for us.

"Oh, no dear," Mrs. Brie replied, "My daughter has been improving and refining her diving technique ever since she was ten years old. She's an athlete, that one."

She paused to rub more sunscreen onto her arms and legs and added, "I don't dive much. So, compared to my daughter my technique would make me look like a drunken sailor falling off a cargo ship."

"My mom doesn't like to compete, unless she already knows that she's better than everyone else," Lyndsay said, standing behind me and hugging me close, "Come on over to the board, I'll teach you some things. I bet you'll learn fast."

"The overconfidence of the young," Mrs. Brie muttered as Lyndsay led me over to the board. I hadn't done much diving in my life, and the diving board for the Brie's pool was at the top of a ladder, approximately seven feet above the water. I felt intimidated at first, but Lyndsay just kept saying encouraging words to me and giving me instructions to improve my form and soon I was doing forward dives with confidence. Lyndsay gave me a kiss on the cheek just for being brave enough to try.

I wasn't as graceful as Lyndsay, but I seemed to be getting better and better with every dive. My form was improving and I actually lost my fear and began to have fun.

It was a very fun and educational experience, and after an especially graceful dive, Lyndsay hugged me, and Mrs. Brie actually said that my dive looked elegant. She could hardly believe how rapidly I had improved in just one day.

"Well, your daughter is a very good teacher," I said, heaping genuine praise on Lyndsay.

Then Mrs. Brie's maid came out with an armload of towels for us.

Mrs. Brie's maid was named Dasha. Like Ruth Taylor's maid, Dasha was a Caucasian, however unlike Ruth Taylor's maid; Dasha wasn't wearing a low-cut uniform that showed off her boobs. Also, Dasha's uniform wasn't tight enough to show off the curves of her ass and her thighs. She was dressed much more like a proper maid would dress.

I was just in the process of breaking from my hug with Lyndsay when Dasha stood close, whispered in my ear and said, "Ms. Schön, your swimsuit is now transparent. I can see right through it."

Dasha's comment caught me off guard, but when I pushed away from Lyndsay and looked down at my breasts and torso, I saw that Dasha was right. My nipples were clearly visible through the thin, wet material of my bathing suit. Upon closer examination I could also pretty easily make out my pubic lips.

I gave accusing glares to both Lyndsay and Mrs. Brie and asked, "How long have the two of you been able to see through my bathing suit?"

"I dunno," Lyndsay said, trying hard to sound innocent, "For the last 45 minutes I guess."

"I think it's been more like an hour," Mrs. Brie said.

"So, I've basically been parading around naked in front of you for the past hour, and neither one of you bothered to say anything?"

"I assumed that you knew," Mrs. Brie said, "I'm thirty-nine years old. I'm not really certain what girls your age are wearing. I thought maybe bathing suits that became transparent when they get wet might be one of the newest things for girls your age."

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bySchlank© 5 comments/ 18571 views/ 12 favorites

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