I’m obsessing about the possibilities. Her curvy, tattooed, pinup look is the stuff of my fantasies, and she agrees that it’s the first time that she’s had an instant connection in ages too. She’s a single mother who only gets every other weekend off and we make a plan for the Saturday night. She drives over to get me so that I can drink and the messaging from both The Husband and The Lorry Driver becomes increasingly excitable as the day progresses.
The aesthetic of the two of us together is a stunning prospect, so we’re going for the whole pinup, seamed stockinged look. The Husband takes some hot photos of me as I prepare for my first full-on lesbian adventure of the new era.
I am ridiculously nervous, and think I’m going to vomit as the pickup time draws near. She messages me when she’s nearby and I head to her car armed with 2 bottles of prosecco for courage. She looks very cute in a dress very similar to one that I have at home, nude stockings with red seams, and red lipstick. But she’s distracted by her ex who is messing her around about childcare for the following morning. She chats away as we drive across town, but it’s friendly chat with no hint of sexual tension at all and I have no idea how this is going to work and how much of a dominant role I’m going to have to play.
Back at her house, the similarities in our taste continue and her vintage décor is freakily like my own. We crack open the wine and she gets out a cheese board – I wasn’t expecting to be fed too! It turns out that she’s been ridiculously nervous all day and is the same whenever she has a new adventure. We’re on opposite sides of the breakfast bar in the kitchen and she’s sharing all sorts of heavy shit with me about her life. It’s the kind of conversation I would have with a new friend, but really would not count as a preamble to hot lezza action.
Before I know it, we’ve finished the second bottle of wine and still haven’t made a move on each other. She’s frequently exchanging messages with The Lorry Driver too which is really disconcerting as I’m honestly not sure to what extent he’s instructing her, or to what extent she’s genuinely attracted to me. And her tales of extreme submission and risk-taking have intimidated me so much that I’m increasingly unlikely to make the first move no matter how much I want to snog her face off.
Eventually she comes round to stand in front of me while I’m perched on the bar stool with the tops of my stockings showing. We kiss and I grab her towards me between my legs. She whispers that she’ll do anything I want, and I’m reeling so much that I have no idea what I want first. Before I’ve had time to think, she’s got her hand up my dress pushing her fingers into my pussy as I stroke and kiss her tits. I just want her naked and in bed right now.
I go to the toilet and when I get to the bedroom, she’s turning the bed down, moving the table for my wine, and generally getting ready, more like a saucy chamber maid than a woman overcome by passion. I sit on the side of the bed pulling her towards me and moving my hand up her skirt. She swiftly moves away to take off her dress and I follow with mine. We’re snogging on the bed, a tangle of boobs, hands, stockings, and lipstick. It’s absolutely lush.
She’d already sent me photos, so I knew she had a pretty pussy, relieved that it didn’t look like a car crash. And my concerns about tasting it were equally unfounded. It’s official, I love eating pussy, well this one at least. I took to it immediately, munching away enthusiastically, and instinctively doing to her what I like done to me.
The highlights of the whole episode include her sitting on my face while I grabbed her voluptuous arse, and then watching her face as she looked into my eyes gently biting on the softest flesh of my tits, leaving delicious tiny bruises which lasted for days. While I was lost in the moment and decidedly dizzy from all the wine, her photography skills were impressive, often capturing a sneaky image to send to the boys and remember the night by. One photo in particular I’ll keep forever to remind me of the hottest moment by far. I had her bent over with her arse in the air, grabbing her hair and whispering that she was my slut while I gently played with her pussy. Kneeling between her legs I focused on getting my fingers into her wet cunt, fucking her harder and harder until I had most of my hand in her, while she moaned louder and louder, and eventually came. At some point, unbeknownst to me, she’d managed to get the camera underneath, capturing a fabulous shot of my arm in action and an extremely determined and filthy look on my face.
We’d been at it for at least an hour and stopped for a breather around midnight, both aware that the boys would be waiting with baited breath to hear of our progress. Not without reason, The Husband had concerns about The Lorry Driver turning up unannounced for a piece of the action. And sure enough, she jumps up excitedly, announcing that “Daddy’s here”.
While unsurprised, I’m really not happy. This was never discussed and I let her know that I’m uncomfortable with it. She tries to reassure me that he just wants to say hello before heading to the door to let him in, and I immediately message The Husband to let him know that it’s time to come and get me.
Despite my uneasiness, I give him an enthusiastic hug when he enters the room, perhaps because he’s so much hotter than I had anticipated. Me and the chick are sitting on the bed, close to the end of the third bottle of wine and looking decidedly ravaged. He is sat in an armchair towards the end of the bed with a satisfied, confident and domineering look on his face. He’s dressed in a simple tshirt and jeans, has cropped hair and a fit body for a 40-something year old, and he has a real bad boy tattooed look about him. It had been really hard to gauge from the few photos he’d shared with me, ranging from the hotty sat before me to a decidedly paunchy Jehovah’s Witness look.
When he asks if we’ve had a nice time we both answer enthusiastically and she excitedly boasts that she made me squirt. As ever, her impressive ability to talk gets us through the 20 minutes until I can make my exit. When I get the message telling me that The Husband is waiting outside, I swiftly get my stuff together while they stand talking in the sitting room with his proprietary arm around her. I really have no idea what the etiquette is for this kind of awkward situation and head to the front door waving a cheery goodbye. She comes over, snogging me passionately and letting me know that I can see her any time I want.
I run enthusiastically to the waiting husband, buzzing from the adrenalin, excitement and incredible hotness of the whole episode. I am incredibly turned on by the success of my lesbian endeavours and now, by the prospect of what we could all do together too. I feel like I’ve only just scratched the surface with her, and am now equally intrigued by him too, thinking that my ultimate FFM fantasies are now a distinct and imminent possibility.
I’m still pretty drunk and The Husband has come up with a plan for us to indulge in some MDMA to make the most of the decadent episode. On the few occasions that I take it, I’m usually really anxious and nauseous at first, while he immediately throws himself into the effects becoming blissed out and horny just by looking at it. This time, I’m drunk, buzzing, and already on a high from my adventures, talking effusively about how hot it was, how hot they both are, and how I can’t wait to do it all over again, only more so. But he hasn’t had the build-up that I have and hasn’t had time to process what’s happened, so he ends up being the one who’s anxious and nauseous, hit by the whole reality of jealously instead of the warm, perverse glow of cuckoldry. But it’s only a brief wobble and within no time, we’re back on track, talking it through and completely loved up.