“Wrap your legs round my back” he grunted as he fucked me.
I did as he asked. It was a little better for the penetration was deeper, but I knew that I was still a long way from an orgasm.
This hadn’t happened in our twenty three year-long marriage until a few months ago, but this was now the third or fourth time my husband was having difficulty making me cum.
“Let me do this Cat” he whispered reaching behind him and grabbing my legs just beneath my knees. He hauled them up and dangled my ankles over his shoulders. He resumed ramming his cock deeper, faster and harder into my under-lubricated cunt. It was uncomfortable. “Any good?”
“No not really. Are you near?”
“Yes very.”
“Then cum, don’t worry about me you just do it.”
We didn’t talk about it afterwards. But then we had never discussed sex much, we just did it. Even then, in the last few years as his business travel and work hours had increased so the frequency of our sex decreased. I sometimes wondered if he was getting it elsewhere, but I doubted it. Richard is a ‘proper’ person, he’s respectable and does things by the book, after all he is a lawyer. In fact he is a very successful corporate lawyer with a leading law firm that has offices in New York and London. He has overall responsibility for all international mergers and acquisitions. It is that which takes him to New York at least once a month.
“Oh yes, yes, oh God” I groaned as Richard fucked me from behind a couple of weeks later
I was on all fours kneeling beside our bed. I was naked. My full breasts were dangling down, he was buried in me fucking me doggy style, squeezing my tits and pinching and pulling my nipples as I feigned an orgasm. It was the first time in my married life I had done that.
*
Over the next couple of months I was home alone frequently. There was nothing unusual about that, but it was starting to get at me. I was bored and lonely for my two children were both away at university. I was also bored with my marriage, bored with life in general and bored with my husband. When he was home we argued more than we ever had.
“Isn’t there anyone else in your fucking law firm who could go to New York now and then?” Is an example of the sort of remark that I threw out to start yet another row.
I knew our marriage was in serious trouble. I had big doubts that we would survive as a couple unless something significant changed in our relationship. Just what that ‘something’ was I didn’t know.
I was seriously contemplating an affair or trying to find a toy boy or fuckbuddy, but I knew that would be messy. I didn’t want to have the guilt trips, make excuses and start telling the endless lies that affairs always necessitate. My thinking was that if my husband wouldn’t ‘service’ me then I would find another way and that might suffice thus, avoiding a break-up. Tortuous logic I know, but that is the type of thinking that extreme sexual frustration induces.
“Mmmmm yes she’s lovely” I said to a friend who was talking about Nichole Kidman.
“I think she’s gorgeous, I could so easily fuck her” Pauline who I had known for several years said casually.
“What?” I said incredulously.
She smiled. “Only joking Cat, after all I’m a happily married woman aren’t I?” She said standing up and looking at me over her shoulder as she went out to play a round of golf.
“It looks lovely madam” the sales assistant in the boutique dress shop said looking me up and down.
I was on a shopping trip in Harpenden, a town near to St Albans where we live for some outfits I was going to take with me on a trip to Los Angeles with Richard. His firm was opening an office there and we would be staying for ten days. We would be attending a number of events including the formal opening and the associated dinners and lunches as well as sunbathing and, of course, shopping on Rodeo!
“You don’t think it’s a little tight on me do you?”
“Er no not really” she replied standing behind me as we both looked into the full length mirror.
“Not round here?” I asked running my fingers across my boobs.
“Well yes it is, but then you are nicely full there madam aren’t you?” She asked placing her fingertips softly on the material covering the outsides of my breasts in the pale lemon, low cut, tightly fitted dress.
I felt a surge of something and suddenly realised that it was arousal. I looked at her in the mirror. She was older than me, probably in her early fifties. She was short and very slim, her figure was almost that of a young man or, boy even. She had an attractive, without being beautiful face, big eyes, thin lips and a rather prominent nose. Her hair was dark and short, again almost a masculine look.
I smiled at her in the mirror.
“Yes and they make buying dresses so difficult.”
“Well we’ll just have to try harder won’t we? We can’t have these not looking their best can we?”
I gulped as she held my gaze her fingertips still resting on the sides of my boobs.
‘Fuck she’s coming onto me’ suddenly hit me. I panicked.
“I think I’ll leave it” I hurriedly told her.
“What the dress?”
“Yes.”
“We do have a couple of others similar to that, madam” she went on.
“Perhaps another time?”
I got out of there quickly and drove home. ‘What the hell’s happening to me?’ I asked myself later that evening after I had been to the gym. I undressed dropped the singlet, cropped lycra pants, thong and sports bra onto the floor. Naked I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I was horrendously frustrated. I needed sex, I wanted to be held and then fucked, but I had no one. No one that is than myself. So I held my breasts, I squeezed them and pinched my nipples. I fumbled between my legs gradually dropping to the granite tiled floor. It was cold to my naked bum and back, but that didn’t stop me lying on it, raising my knees, opening my legs and plunging my fingers on both hands onto my clit and up my cunt. As I fucked myself I was horrified to realise that in my mind it was the sales assistant who was holding me, kissing me, caressing me and yes, fucking me.
It was at the end of a long day. We had played twenty seven holes of golf, had dinner and prize giving and now twenty or so of us lady golfers were sitting around drinking. I had no reason to hurry home for as usual Richard was away. I was sitting on the outside terrace with Pauline, the married lady who had said she would like to fuck Nichole Kidman. We were alone on the large terrace and she was smoking a cigarette. We were both slightly pissed.
“Did I shock you the other day Cat?”
“When?”
“About Nichole Kidman.”
“Actually yes you did.”
“Well couldn’t you?”
“Couldn’t I what?”
“Oh I don’t know” Pauline replied shaking her head so that her long black hair shimmered in the moonlight as she took a large sip of her vodka and water and then lit another cigarette from the stub of the previous one.
“What do you mean?” I pushed now quite interested.
“You remember what I said don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Well I didn’t really mean just that.”
“So what did you mean?”
“Look I don’t want this to sound like a come one, but have you ever messed around with other women?”
“You mean sexually?”
“Yes.”
“No I haven’t.”
“Never?” She asked tipping her head back and blowing smoke into the air as I sipped my white wine.
“Are you curious?”
“Well actually I am becoming so as I get older.”
“Again don’t this the wrong way, but you really should try it.”
Smiling I said. “Is that an invitation?”
She looked at me her dark eyes sparkling and smiling replied. “I have a strict rule Cat, never fuck my friends.”
For the rest of the evening I couldn’t get my mind off what Pauline had said. She had been so open and matter of fact about it. We’d chatted a little more as she smoked her third Marlboro Light. I was interested, but was loathe to show that too much so I didn’t ask many questions, even though I wanted to. She told me that it had started a few years ago.
“The silly bugger” she laughed talking about her husband. “Persuaded me to try swinging.”
“What wife swapping?”
“Yes but the husbands, I quickly found out often don’t just swap their wife with another bloke, they swap with the wife as well.”
“What you went with the other bloke’s wife?”
“Yes and it was fantastic.”
“I see.”
Over the next couple of weeks before we left for LA, I seemed to be seeing bi or lesbian happenings all over the place, there were even lesbian kisses in two of the soaps I watch. I read about it, saw stuff on the net and had a female trainer at the gym, who was rumoured to be gay, try it on with me.
*
“I have to go up to Sacremento for a couple of nights, you’ll be ok won’t you?” Richard informed me after we had been in LA a couple of days and we’d conducted the ‘grand opening’ of the new office.
“Well I get used to it at home so I guess there’s not much fucking difference here is there?” I snorted feeling pissed off at him.
Had I have known he was going to leave me to my own devices I probably wouldn’t have bothered coming with him. That said, staying at l’ermitage in Beverly Hills with the pool on the roof and the fabulous service was something special so I thought sod it I’ll just enjoy myself.
I was on the internet surfing around seeing what to do in LA when I drifted off the straight and narrow. I had, for some time, thought that one way to relieve my frustration yet avoid the tackiness and potential disaster of an affair would be to try a male escort. I knew they would have them in LA and that’s what I was looking for in a half-hearted way; I didn’t think I would go through with it even if I found any. I am pretty sure that it was more out of interest than with any real intent, but as I was visiting sites one screamed out at me. It was simply called: Erotic Lesbian Massage Experience.
I could not resist entering the site and read with huge interest and mounting excitement what it was all about. Actually there wasn’t that much to learn for, essentially, it offered what it said on the tin, which I assumed was being massaged to an orgasm by a woman.
The rest of the morning as I sat by the pool listening to my iPod I couldn’t get the thought of that out of my mind. It seemed the perfect solution to my curiousity and maybe the ideal introduction to bisexual fun.
“You stay as long as you like” the woman said when I called and asked for details.
“Oh really?”
“Yes, I usually only have one client a day, occasionally two.”
“So what happens?” I asked full of even more curiosity.
“Precisely what we say in the ad” the pleasant voice with a slight European, possibly German or Scandinavian accent said down the phone. “You will have the most wonderful series of erotic massages and experiences.”
“By whom?”
“My girls and me, I’m Amelia. I’m if you want the madam.”
“I have never had such an experience.”
“I know, you couldn’t have because you haven’t been to me.”
I smiled.
I was able to have an appointment the next day and agreed with Amelia that I would be there at noon.
“You can have lunch, tea, dinner, you can drink what you like and of course we have a variety of other pleasurable things you can ingest, one way or the other” she told me adding when I asked how much it was. “One thousand cash.” Fortunately I had with me the debit card on my personal bank account the details of which Richard never saw, so getting the cash was not an issue.
The rest of that day, that evening and night and all the next morning I was a bag of nerves and several times I decided that I wouldn’t go.
I started getting ready around ten. It felt as though I was going on a date, not that I had been on one since my affair a few years ago. I showered and washed my shoulder length, ash blonde hair. I painted my toe and finger nails with a smooth, white varnish and pampered my body with moisturising lotion. I looked at myself in the mirror thinking as I stared at my naked body that shortly another woman would, at the least be seeing exactly what I was now. Thanks to the regime of hard tennis and gym work I’d gone through after the children were born my stomach was pretty flat and my, what I have always thought are my best feature, legs were still slim and fortunately there was not one sign of cellulite. My waist was only a few inches larger than before the children and I carried hardly any excess baggage on my hips or bum. My boobs had a slight sag, but cupping each one and lifting them I felt that was fair game for a forty year old and, after all they were an ample C cup.
‘Not a bad package overall’ I mused as I looked through my underwear drawer. I had brought quite a lot with me and had already raided Neiman Marcus and Victoria’s Secret indulging myself in one of my hobbies, sexy underwear. I was never quite sure why I bothered wearing underwear to be undressed in for no one ever undressed me.
I chose black. After all it was to be ‘an erotic massage, a lesbian one’ I thought, my heart starting to pound as I pulled the lacy, boy shorts up my legs. I snuggled them into place forming a slash of black round my hips. I liked myself just in panties and I often worked around the house or writing my erotic stories like that. The bra was sheer and my areola and nipples were clearly on view through the black lace net. The extraordinarily expensive, yet fabulously flimsy garment hid nothing worth looking at yet gave my ample sized tits just that tad of support they now needed. The bra was cut acutely across each boob barely covering the edges of my areola. I felt I looked good. It was a sexy persona I projected when I slipped the strappy, high heeled sandles on my feet. ‘Now what on top?’ I rather ridiculously wondered. But I wanted to look my best. I wore a simple, black silk dress. Unfitted it was above the knee, but high at the neck. It clung to my boobs and fell down from them. It had silver buttons all the way up the front. I left four undone so that all who looked would see the deepness of my cleavage.
Picking up my oversized bag and mobile phone I was ready for my excursion into lesbian sex.
Richard had left me the rental car and I was about to take that when I suddenly thought that I might need to drink to loosen my inhibitions so I got a cab from outside the hotel. I gave him the address and we were soon on the Santa Monica Freeway. The apartment complex where Amelia had her place was on 17th Street and Pico near to the Corsair Stadium. In spite of my considerable foreboding and extreme nervousness the time whizzed by and I was soon in the elevator to the top floor of the smart building. I nearly turned back into the elevator, but somehow managed to get to the door and ring the bell.
The door was opened and I saw a Eastern looking girl. “Missus Rogers” she asked? I almost said no for I had momentarily forgotten I hadn’t used my real name.
“Oh yes, yes I am.”
“Please come in” she said opening the door wide. I saw that there were two girls and I guessed they were Thai. They were both on the short side, around five feet three or so and very slim with lustrous, black shoulder length hair. They looked so alike that I found myself wondering if they might be sisters.
They were dressed identically in white, silk cheong sams that had high mandarin collars and ended above mid-thigh with slit up to their hip bones strongly hinting that they were not wearing panties
They ushered me inside a beautifully furnished hallway and showed me to a small room to one side.
Introducing themselves in their broken English as Leah and Mai, they explained that they were Amelia’s assistants and they would be helping me with my ‘massage experience.’
“What exactly is the experience?” I asked
They explained that Amelia would see me later, but first I had ‘to be prepared.’
“How do you mean prepared?”
“We bathe you then Kirchen massage you, then you lerax and wait for Amelia.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Please Missus Logers trust us, it will be wonderful for you. Now come we bathe you. Please to undress here and put the robe on” one of them, I never really worked which was which, told me.
The other said. “When ready come through this door” and opened a door through which both of them vanished.
I panicked and nearly left, but reconciled ‘in for a penny ….’ so I started to undress. Smiling ruefully that no one was going to see my sexy undies I was quickly naked. Shivering with a combination of expectation, arousal and curiosity as to how I would feel being bathed by the two girls I slid into the oyster coloured, shorty, satin dressing robe. It had no buttons, just a tie round the waist.
I went into the room as they had instructed and they greeted me by placing their hands together as if praying.
“Welcome Missus Katlene we now bathe you” one of them said softly. “Come” she went on opening a door in the corner of the room and leading me into a fairly large, dimly lit wet room. A shower was running at one end of the room and at the other there was a sunken bath that could easily have held six people. It was empty.
“Please the robe” one said.
My fingers were literally shaking as I undid the tie and slowly, feeling very embarrassed I removed it.
“Ah lovely.”
I looked at them and saw they were smiling and that relaxed me a little. Hardly moving they both lifted their hands, fiddled with the collar of their dresses, pulled on them and then let the dresses somehow slither down their slim bodies. They were not wearing panties. They had perfect figures I thought. Lean, tight and pert they looked delightful. They had small, probably A cup breasts with brown nipples that I saw were erect. Looking down, I saw mine were too.
“Please here” one said indicating a place by the wall near to the shower. I went and stood there my back to the wall. “No turn please.”
I had no idea what this was all about, but I did as they asked.
“Lean against the wall please with your hands.” I put my hands against the wall and leaned forward as they asked. I felt one of them grip my legs by my knees and gently ease them apart. The hands then rested on my hips and pulled me backwards until my arms were straight in front of me. Even though nothing overtly sexual had happened I was feeling slightly aroused, but then I had never been with two naked women in a bathroom before.
I felt warm water being poured on my back just beneath my shoulders. Due to the angle of my body it ran down my back, over my waist onto my bottom and down my legs; that in itself felt surprisingly erotic. I then felt something else being poured onto my back. A sponge or something similar was run across my shoulders and down my spine. I couldn’t really see what was going on, but worked out that one of them was doing the pouring of the warm water and what I assumed was a liquid soap or lotion as the other sponged me. It was lovely.
The sponge covered every square millimetre of my back gradually moving downwards until it had passed my waist. It then focused on the two cheeks of my bottom for some time. Still the water and soap kept being dribbled onto me. The sponge stopped. I waited hoping it would return and then it did, but on my ankle. Now it worked its way slowly upwards. Over my calf muscles, past my knees and up the back and insides of thighs. I was becoming more and more aroused as the sponge continually went nearer and nearer to my pussy and the crease in my butt, but it didn’t touch either of those erogenous areas and, I realised, that disappointed me.
“Turn please” one of them told me.
I did as they asked. I saw that one of them had a contraption that looked like a watering can in one hand and a hosepipe in the other. That explained the water and lotion.
“Lean back against the wall please. The large, rectangular shaped, pale blue tiles felt cold on my back, but that soon passed as the one with the hose squirted the warm water onto my shoulders and upper chest. The water streamed down my body and onto my breasts with my hardened nipples producing little shelves from which the water tumbled like waterfalls. My entire front was soon soaked and the girl poured the lotion from the can onto my chest. The other girl moved very close to me and ran the sponge across my chest just beneath my chin. As she did so her wrist and lower arm brushed against the swell of my boobs and my nipples. That sent such strong surges of sexual desire through me that I shuddered and let out a low moan. It struck me then that I really was starting my erotic lesbian massage and I hadn’t even been massaged yet!