Regular readers know this. You who are new to me don't. But these stories are mostly true. The story and what happened and how I felt is true. The dialog is how I remember it, but you and I both know that memory is faulty when it comes to dialog. My name really IS Charlotte and Paul's name really is Paul and yes, we really live in the Richmond, Virginia area.
Most of the time, the names of anyone else has been changed but in Leighton's case, I've used her real name and town because, well, she asked me too.
Leighton, you see, is a fan. I don't now why it never really occurred to me before her that I had fans. I have, after all, written a few stories and put them "out there" for you and others to read. As close as I can tell, a few thousand people have read each of them and that is just totally mind boggling to me. It makes me feel very exposed, even more than if I posted pictures. It's just delicious.
And yes, a few of you e-mail me from time to time and a couple of you have even become friends, people I write to regularly and even share a few pictures with now and then.
But fans? That was different in my mind. Singers have fans. Actresses have fans, Novelists have fans I am a soon to be 43 year old woman living (other than my sex life) a very ordinary life. I have a regular job. I have a house. I'm divorced. I work in the yard. I am not model perfect body wise and make no pretensions of perfection. I have, in fact, the normal array of womanly insecurities.
The past three years, since I met Paul, have been an adventure in learning and accepting who and what I am sexually and I have ended up with a sex life that was unimaginable to me three years ago. Again, you regular readers have shared the journey with me as I sporadically shared the highlights in my stories. But fans? I never thought about it.
Until I started getting e-mails from Leighton.
She wrote me, she said, because she felt like she shared something of my spirit, that as she read my stories, she felt something in her stir. She was beginning to realize who she was, and what she wanted in a relationship. And she wanted to have someone to talk to about it. It wasn't, she said, something she could talk about with her friends and family. She was from Columbia, South Carolina, a very conservative town. "My friends would never get it if I told them that what I really want in a relationship is the same kind of loving submission you give Paul.
She was very sweet, and very articulate, and we began to write regularly. "I am such a fan." she said. "It's like talking to a movie star for me, I want to have the life and relationship you have."
I was flattered. But I also know my path has had some bumps. My stories only talk about the highlights, the hottest sexiest times. I wouldn't suggest anyone use my stories as a role model. They are just my stories. So we began to write back and forth. She was a delight. Smart, Thoughtful. Just a couple of years out of college. A good job. She was very in touch with herself, the result, she said, of going into therapy while in college and sticking with it for three years. She seemed remarkably together for a twenty three year old woman. Certainly I don't think I was that together at her age.
Somewhere along the way, she sent me a picture. She was very shy about it, but she was beautiful. She has a body like mine - full breasted, narrow wasted, full hips. Dark hair, long and straight. Full lips and that perfect skin of youth. I looked at her breasts and for the first time, I think I understood why you guys are so attracted to a woman's breast. They were perfect, full, high on her chest, with pink nipples that were hard and pronounced.
"I've never taken a naked picture of myself before." she wrote. "I hope it's OK. I hope I look OK."
She was beautiful. I was almost afraid to send her a picture of me, but Paul has taken a few that I feel good about, and I sent her one. We began to share pictures along with our words. She would write me and tell me how the shots I shared with her, often ones of my being tied up, or with nipple clips, made her feel. She share what fantasies came to her mind.
One day, she asked me if I could send her a picture of Pau'ls cock. "I've read your stories and I've read your blog." she wrote. "And I know you have an oral fetish. I think I might too, and I would so love to see the cock that you worship so."
How could I resist? I send her one, then others, of his cock in my hand, or between my lips. She was so enthusiastic in her praise. Her words made me feel even more that I have something and someone special. She was almost rapturous, and her rapture and desire fed my own. Lucky Paul got more than the normal number of bow jobs for the next couple of months,
She was also fascinated by my submission, She seemed to totally understand that me, it's; not about Paul's making me be submissive and dominating me in the stereotyped "Dom" role, Not, it's about my wanting to give myself and my submission to him as a gift, my wanting to please him by allowing him to push the boundries of our sex life. Because I wanted those boundaries to be stretched, but on my own, I don't think I would ever have taken the steps. But with him in the lead, taking me on a sexual journey, his confidence gave me confidence, and I found myself doing things at his "command" that I would have never done with anyone else.
"I so know how you feel." Leighton wrote me one day. "I want to experience that kind of giving of myself, and being at someone else's, loving, tender command."
Then one day, she asked if I had shared her pictures and e-mails with Paul. No, I told her. I had not. I had assumed they were private.
"Would you, please?" she wrote back. I could almost hear the little girl sound of her voice.
So I showed them, and the entire chain of e-mails. He reaction was just what I could have predicted. He loved her look and that night, we fantasized about having Leighton in our bed. The sex was hard and hot that night. The next day, when she asked about his reaction, I told her everything, about how his cock rose and swelled at the look of her, and how, as we talked about her, his swollen cock pounded me relentlessly until he came hard inside me. Yes, I assured her, he liked her just fine.
Now, we had been writing and sharing our desires for nearly three months. I felt like she was a little sister, a sexy little sister. And I guessed I should have seen it coming. But I didn't.
The email read....."Do you think there is any possibility you and Paul would have sex with me, for real? I so want to experience submissive sex and I know you would treat me kindly. I want to experience it without fear."
Now, I get guys writing me that all the time. Most of the time though, they are one line wonders. This was a woman I had come to know, who was, in truth, very sexy to Paul and to me. We had had sex with her on our minds more than once. I had fingered myself imagining it was her more than once. I love men most, but I HAD experienced a woman once and it was good. And Leighton was something special, physically and as a person.
I told her I had to think about it. But honestly, I didn't. I knew I wanted to. I just had to gather my thoughts about it because I was suddenly crazy in lust with the idea.
I called Paul. "Please?" I asked. "I know you always pick the people we've played with before. But I really want to have sex with Leighton. You can stay in control. You can tell us both what to do. I'll let her have sex with you. Please? I'll do anything."
I don't think I had ever been so desperate. I can't tell you why really. I just know that this young girl, with her soft and firm body, her submissive spirit and deep desire to test her submissive nature against reality had me crazy lustful.
"Get me her phone number." Paul said. "We'll see."
The next two weeks, I knew she and Paul were talking, but I was out of the loop. It was between them. "Trust me." Paul said. When I asked Leighton what was going on she only said "Trust Paul." I was going crazy.
Finally, one Wednesday night, after Paul and I had finsihed making love and were lying entwined in the afterglow, Paul said quietly, "You'll need to pack for a trip this weekend. I'll pick you up after work. I'll tell you just what to wear. We are going to Columbia."
Columbia, South Carolina! That's where Leighton lived.
I called her the next morning from work. Yes, it was all set up. We'd meet Saturday night for dinner. We'd spend the night together. Paul had told her just what to wear too, and she accepted that we would both be at his command for the night. And like me, she was crazy at the thought. "I can hardly function at work." she told me. I knew the feeling. I've had it every time Paul let me know ahead of time that I was going to be shared with someone else. And now both Leighton and I were experiencing it.
The drive to Columbia was crazy. I was in my work suit and Paul had me fingering myself for hours. I came like crazy. When we got into the suite, he had me on my knees and I gave him a majrly loving blow job. The next morning I woke up and there was sex again. The day dragged along. About four, I began to get ready.
For me, getting ready for sex is like foreplay. The whole time I bathe, do my hair, my nails, my makeup, I am thinking about the impression I will make on the other person (or people.) Dressing is crazy, I seem to feel the fabric more than you can imagine. I look at myself with eyes of lust, and stop often as I put on my lingerie, my stockings, my dress.
This night, Paul had me in a black 1940's style cocktail dress. Very pinup. Pencil skirt with a lowish cut bodice, with frills around the collar. I wore my black brocade corset underneath, and Paul cinched the corset to the point my cleavage was high and hard to miss. Black lace stockings. I felt so deliciously trampy. I knew men would be looking at me at the restaurant, but I was really thinking about what Leighton would think. Would I fit the image she had of me? Was it too much? Not enough?
We went downstairs and out the door to our car. Then to the restaurant. He had reserved a table smack in the middle of the room. Eyes followed me as I entered. I was so turned on. By the eyes.. By the look of lust in Paul's eyes. In anticipation. We sat at the table and Paul ordered champagne.
Then Leighton was at the door. I thought I would faint. Paul had dressed her too. I could see the touches. Where I was in back and white, she was in white. A summery white dress. High heeled white sandals. The dress was sheer and you could see the white corset underneath. Behind her, the light picked out her curves. The dress was unbuttoned a button or two too law to be appropriate. I could tell she was uneasy. I was too, the first time Paul had dresed me to show me off.
Paul rose and went to get her. He took her by the hand and began to lead her to our table. I don't know what he said to her, but she laughed and visibly relaxed. I was wet. Just like that, I was wet between my legs.
Paul brought her to the table and introduced us. We hugged, hanging on to each other tighter than a normal meet and greet might indicate.
Don't ask me what we talked about over dinner. I remember I felt relaxed, but aroused the whole time I felt very aware of my corset and what I would look like when my dress came off. The wetness lingered, because I wore no panties under the corset and dress. I was smooth down there. If I knew Paul, she was too. The thought got me going all over.
I was very aware of all the men looking. I know she was too. I'd experienced it before and I still get excited when I am dressed sexy in public. But for her, it was a first time and she was almost glowing in the admiration. There was a flush in her cheeks. And Paul was enjoying it too. I could tell. Having all those men look at us and wish they were him just made him smile with an enigmatic smile. He knew what was coming was more than the men watching would believe, that what they might fantasize about, he was going to experience.
Finally dinner was done. We had finished two bottle of champagne. Even the coffee after dinner didn't take the buzz off. Paul rose. He reached into his pocket and brought out two scarves. "Trust me." he said as he went behind Leighton and tied the white one over her eyes. "Trust me" he said, as he tied the black one around my head. Then, having us stand, he led us from the room. I can't even imagine what people there were thinking, or what the valet parking guys must have thought.
