I’ve written this story from the point of view of a married woman. For the record, I am a middle aged married man who likes to write porn stories in my spare time. This is my first attempt at writing in the first person perspective, so I hope to see lots of feedback and none of that bullshit spam trolling. Please, if you take the time to read the whole story, take a second to rate it and tell me what was good or bad about it. It is your feedback that pushes me to write more. So anyway, enjoy the story.
How I Became a Lesbian Slave
They say hindsight is 20/20, and I found out the hard way that they (whoever ‘they’ are) are one hundred percent correct. If only I knew what kind of a person my neighbor was before I became friendly with her, I could have saved myself a whole lot of guilty feelings and confusion over my own sexuality.
Emma seemed so nice for someone whom I wouldn’t have given the time of day if we had been in high school together. You see, Emma is the beautiful, athletic, popular type whom I couldn’t stand throughout my years in school.
I was never one of the beautiful people in school, and I didn’t belong to any of the many social cliques that populate every high school on the planet. I was the so called ‘ugly duckling’, too short, too geeky, too near sighted and not nearly fashionable enough. I got picked on everyday by people just like Emma, and I grew a huge amount of distrust for anyone whom I considered to be one of ‘them’. The teenage years are an impressionable time in a person’s life, and when you keep hearing that you are not good enough, or pretty enough, you start to believe it.
So how did I become friendly with Emma? Well, to be honest, when I first saw her moving into the house next door, I sighed with dread and just a little bit of jealousy. I think the jealousy came from the fact that I knew my husband would think she was hot. Hell, even I thought she was hot, and I’m straight. Oh yeah, let me tell you just a bit about my husband first.
Dave Melbourne and I met in college and we just seemed to click together. He wasn’t like almost every other guy in college. By that I mean that he was focused on his studies and not on partying and picking up girls like the majority of the men there. He had a goal and he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone come between him and his goal.
I guess what really attracted me to Dave was that he was so much more mature than so many other guys in college. He had his shit together, and he informed me early on that, even though he liked me a lot, he wasn’t going to let our relationship get in the way of his studies. He wanted to see me, but he didn’t want it to be a distraction. That attitude may have turned most women off, but it proved to me that he valued an education, and he was thinking about the future. He also stayed true to me and we were married one year after he received his Bachelors degree.
As for me, I had grown so much from high school. What can I say, I was a late bloomer. My height and breasts had grown considerably, and I had ditched the coke bottle glasses for colored contacts. My acne cleared up, and I became more like the beautiful people that I couldn’t stand in high school. Okay, maybe I wasn’t that hot, but I definitely got a lot more attention from the guys, and even caught a few women giving me looks.
We found a nice, humble little house to call home and lived a comfortably boring life for three years until Emma moved in next door. Dave worked in pharmaceuticals and was on the road a lot, and I taught sixth grade reading at the local elementary school.
I was home on summer break and working in my garden when the moving van pulled up next door. Behind the van came a fancy little sports car and out of that stepped Emma. She was dressed casually for the move, but I could see right away that she was one of the beautiful people. She wore short shorts and a v neck belly shirt. Her cleavage was on display and I’m quite certain that the movers appreciated it, as they were young men.
I could see her flirting with them and the sunlight glinting off her belly button piercing, another thing that I instantly hated about her because I was too chicken shit to do it to myself, even though I thought it looked sexy. An evil part of me wanted to just ignore the fact that she was moving in and going to be my neighbor, but finally my good upbringing won out and I stood up, dusted myself off, and began the trek across the yard to her house.
“Hello, welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Kate Melbourne.” I said with an easy smile and outstretched hand. I half expected her to look at me and laugh, or scowl and say something nasty. Old memories are hard to suppress.
Instead, she greeted me with a warm smile and piercing blue eyes. Reaching out, she grasped my hand in her warm, soft grip and said “Oh hi. I’m Emma. Emma Hefner. And no, I’m not married to the playboy guy. No relation at all unfortunately. I’d probably have a lot more money if I was right.” Then she laughed, and her laugh was so carefree and infectious that, I don’t know, I guess I felt more at ease with her.
We started talking, small talk mostly, and about ten minutes into the conversation I realized that I felt really comfortable talking with her, like we were longtime friends. It’s amazing how sometimes you can make a connection like that with a total stranger, but I liked her, even though she was beautiful, and I wanted to get to know her better.
Before I left to work some more in my garden, and let her get back to unpacking, I invited her over. I didn’t tell her any specific time, I just said that when she was all settled in and could find the time, to drop in and we would have a drink and get to know each other better. She graciously accepted and said that she didn’t expect to take too long unpacking because she didn’t have much stuff. She surprised the shit out of me when she said “Maybe I’ll take you up on that drink tonight.”
I went back to work in my garden and actually felt really good about my decision to go introduce myself. My attitude about her had changed in just the short time I chatted with her. Later on that evening, there was a knock on my door, and when I opened it, there she was.
“Hi. Is that offer of a drink still good?” She asked.
“Yeah. Of course Emma, come on in.” I said, stepping aside and motioning her in. I opened a bottle of wine and we settled down on the living room couch. She had changed her clothes since earlier and now wore a denim mini skirt, and a tight white tank top with a plunging neckline and plenty of cleavage showing.
“So, how did the move go?” I asked.
“Ugh, I hate moving.” she snapped, then giggled and took a swig of her wine. “Oh shit that’s good.” she remarked and kicked off her pumps. “I love a glass or two of good wine after a long day.”
“Mm me too.” I agreed, taking a long swig from my glass.
“So you said you were married earlier. Where’s your husband?”
“Oh, he’s away on business. He’s into pharmaceuticals and he has to travel all over. He speaks at seminars, it’s the most boring shit I’ve ever listened to, but he likes it. He gets to travel all over the US, and when he goes, he’s gone for at least three days, sometimes a week.”
“Really? That must suck big time.” She said, then after another sip of wine she added “Well, unless of course you’re getting a little something on the side.” She gave me a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow.
“What? No no, I don’t. I don’t do that.” I said when I realized that she was talking about an affair. “I would never cheat on Dave.”
She laughed loudly and put her hand on my leg, just above my knee. “I was just fucking with you Kate. Don’t get your panties all up in a bunch now.” She left her hand on my leg a little longer than was necessary, and gave me a squeeze before pulling it back. I didn’t think too much of it right then, but…hindsight ya know.
The conversation went on and one glass of wine turned into two, then three and we were both feeling it quite a bit. It was easy talking with her, and when the subject eventually made its way around to sex, well we didn’t hold back there either. She asked me some pretty personal things and I, well I was a little too drunk to even care. We talked about fetishes, and I told her that I had read “Fifty Shades of Gray” and was a little bit intrigued by what the character Anastasia Steele went through.
From there, we talked a bit about BDSM and a few other kinks. I told her that I would never suggest it to my husband because he just wouldn’t understand. “He thinks that stuff only happens in porn movies, and with perverted people. He’s pretty straight laced when it comes to sex, you know.”
“Wow, I guess so. How do you deal with that?” Emma asked, as if I must have had a problem with it.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I keep the book hidden when he is around, in case he heard about it from somewhere.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma asked “So neighbor,” slurring her words a bit “ever done it with a woman before?”
That question right there should have put me on the defensive, but being a bit tipsy, it sailed right over my head. “Nahh’ I said, my head feeling rather swollen for some reason “I’m not a dyke.” For some reason I thought that was funny as shit and I burst out laughing.
Emma watched me laughing, and when I quieted down she said “You should try it sometime. It’s fucking awesome.”
Now I had the raised eyebrow as I looked at her and said “No fucking way. You’re a lesbian?”
“Well, let’s just say I have experience going both ways.” She answered, then slid over next to me, her hand was back on my leg but this time it was way up on my thigh. “I could teach you a few things you know.”
Alarm bells were going off in my head and I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights as I stammered out “Ahh whoa, hey naa…” but before I could make a legible response, she started laughing and moved back to the other side of the couch.
“You should see your face right now.” she guffawed, then made a pronounced surprised face to imitate what I had looked like, as she set her glass aside on the end table next to the arm of the sofa.
“Holy shit Emma, I thought you were serious for a second there.” I said with relief.
“No, I was just fucking with you again. You are way too easy Kate.” She observed, then added “Now, I need to use your toilet before I piss myself.”
“Oh, yeah um…” I pointed down the hallway and said “Third door on the right. Light is on the outside.”
She started to stand and tilted unsteadily, reached out blindly, and wound up falling back onto the sofa. “Shit, I think I drank too much.” she said, and giggled again. This time when she laughed, she put her hand down in her crotch and squeezed her legs together. “Oh shit, I’m going to piss myself.”
I could see that she was in trouble so I stood up to help her. I was very unsteady myself after, I think it was three glasses of wine, and I had to wait a second or two until the room stopped moving. I took her hand and helped her to her feet and we leaned against each other as we made our way down the hallway to the bathroom. Once inside with the light on, I helped her to the toilet and said “You think you can manage from here?”
She leaned on the side of the sink and started to work the top button on her skirt. The fly was three buttons and I could see that she didn’t have the dexterity needed to undo just one let alone all three. “Screw it!” she said and tried to reach up under her skirt to move her undies. That turned out to be a difficult task for a drunk girl to. Finally, she looked up at me and said “Kate, you need to pull my panties down for me. I’m going to fall over, and I need to piss now.”
I could see she was desperate, and I didn’t want to have to clean up a puddle of piss off my floor, so I got down on my knees behind her and reached up under her skirt. It was a surreal feeling to be doing what I was doing, but I wasn’t looking at it like it was a sexual act. Her skirt was tight, so I had to really cram my fingers up there searching by feel for the waistband of her panties. It took me a few seconds to realize that my hands were on her skin, so I peeked up under and saw that she was wearing a thong.
I’ve never worn a thong before because I’ve always thought that they looked incredibly uncomfortable, and this one was no exception. The thin piece of cloth between her legs was wedged deep into her slit, and I noticed three things right away. First, she was shaved bare down there, something that I never dared to try. Second, was the thickness of her labia, which completely concealed the thin strap of thong material. And third was her smell, which I can only describe as womanly, earthy, and, well it was heady. The smell was what really got to me I think. You see, truth be known, I have always been turned on by my own smell down there, especially at the end of the day, or when I was sexually excited. I’ve always felt like I was weird in that respect, so I’ve managed to keep that fact a secret all these years.
So anyway, when I saw the thong and smelled the odor of her pussy, I momentarily forgot what I was doing down there and sort of just sat there for a few seconds, staring at her fragrant sex. “Hey, what are you doing? I’m going to piss myself!” Emma blurted, waking me from my funk.
“Oh, sorry.” I mumbled, then used my finger to hook the thin strap that went down between her ass cheeks and pulled. It was really wedged deep and it took quite a tug from me to dislodge it. My finger slid down as it came from between her ass cheeks, then it pushed apart her thick labia and popped out. As my finger reached the lowest part of her thong, the thinnest piece of material, I noticed it was soaked. I tugged down and felt the material stretch, then rip. “Oh shit!” I exclaimed.
Emma just quickly plopped herself down on the toilet and began pissing forcefully, sighing loudly as she emptied her bladder. “You nearly got wet Kate.” She said, and I saw a bead of sweat on her forehead, probably from straining to hold her urine. Speaking of urine, as soon as she started pissing, the smell of her urine filled the bathroom. So much for the lovely smell that had been emanating from her earlier.
It was at that time, listening to her piss spraying into the bowl, that I realized I had to go just as badly. I think it’s one of those mind tricks, like Pavlov’s dogs, whenever I hear water running, I have to pee. After drinking so much wine, I had to pee desperately. “Hurry, I need to pee now.” I told her, suddenly feeling the need to squeeze my own legs together.
Emma found this hilarious and burst out laughing while still sitting and pissing, and that made me start to laugh too. “Don’t make me laugh.” I stammered, the need to release suddenly ten times worse than moments ago.
Then, she did something totally unexpected. While sitting on my toilet peeing, she reached her hand up to the inside of my thigh, just below the hem of my shorts, and slid her fingers up to my crotch. “I’ll help you hold it.” She said, still laughing like a wild woman.
Unfortunately, her putting her hand up inside my shorts didn’t help me, it was such a shock that I actually lost my concentration for a few seconds and started to pee in my shorts. I felt the heat spread and saw the look of shock from Emma as her hand got wet, then she laughed even harder. I was now doing the pee dance and yelled “Move it!!” while I was undoing my own fly. I had better luck than she did and without waiting another second, I pushed both my shorts and underwear down. At this point, modesty was out the door.
“Quick, I’ve got to go bad!” I yelled, bending at the knees and squeezing my thighs together as tight as I could. A few more drops rolled down my legs as I felt the dam getting ready to burst.
Still laughing like an idiot, Emma said “You’ll have to pee between my legs, I can’t get up.” and she sat back up against the tank and spread her legs wide.
Now before all you people go spouting off about what I should have done in that situation, let me remind everyone that I was pretty drunk and wasn’t exactly thinking very clearly. I saw the toilet bowl between her legs, and my body just took over. Without really thinking about it, I kicked off my panties and sat down. With Emma behind me, I didn’t have much room on the front of the toilet, but I was sure I had enough, and then Emma wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me back tightly against her.
If I had wanted to hold my urine any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to when Emma hugged me like that. The pressure on my full bladder was too great and I let loose with a powerful spray that just cleared the inner lip of the toilet seat. The relief was so great that I soon found myself laughing right along with Emma as I emptied myself.
When my stream had finally stopped, I felt shame and embarrassment at what I had just done. I tried to get up, but Emma held me tight. “Don’t forget to wipe.” She whispered in my ear before running her hand down through my still dripping pussy.
I don’t know what went through my mind at that point, I think I was too shocked to even think to be honest, but I just gasped and froze while her fingers found my vagina and slid inside. Finally I was able to say “Emma, what the fuck are you doing?”
She sucked my earlobe for a few seconds, drawing another gasp, then said “I’m fingering you silly.”
“But why?” I asked, a bit perturbed. I grasped her wrists and tried pulling her hands away from me.
“Just relax and let me make you feel good.” she answered, the middle finger of her right hand buried knuckle deep in my pussy.
“Uhh, but I can’t. I’m not a lesbian Emma, and I’m married.” I whispered the last half of the sentence as if my husband was home and I was worried that he might hear me, even though the house was empty.
“It won’t make you a lesbian Kate. Just think of it as masturbation, but with a little bit of help.”
Now that I think about it, for someone who was so drunk that she couldn’t walk to the bathroom with assistance, she was remarkably lucid all of a sudden. I should have realized that right then, but I was too flustered and just a bit turned on. I know, I said that I was straight and I didn’t want to have sex with Emma and I really didn’t, but it felt good in the moment.
My mind was still muddled from the wine, and I was trying figure out how to handle the situation, and all of a sudden, I just started giggling. I really don’t know why, or what I thought was funny, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I guess that it was just the ridiculousness of the whole situation. There we were, spooning on the open toilet, the strong smell of piss emanating throughout the bathroom and Emma reaching around me and shoving her fingers into my pussy. I was nude from the waist down while Emma was still in her short skirt and her busted thong straps hanging down. So was I laughing because of the crazy situation, or the stress of being molested by a woman? I don’t know.
I laughed until tears fell from my eyes and the next thing I know, Emma pulled her finger out of my pussy, and brought it up to my mouth. “Clean the piss off my finger.” she said, and before I knew what happened, she shoved her middle finger into my mouth.
I tasted my thick pussy juices mixed with the unmistakable biting bitterness of urine. I had been shocked when she had started to finger me, now I was disgusted that she would shove her pissy finger into my mouth, even if it was my own piss. I nearly bit her, that was how horrified I was, but right when I felt my anger was about to bubble over, she said something to me that stopped me.
“Be a good little slave and you’ll be rewarded.”
With that one sentence, I froze with my mouth gently closed around her finger. My body had become stiff as a board and I forgot to breathe while her chilling words echoed through my head. She called me ‘slave’, and something snapped inside my head.