Ginny and Aty

Preface

= = = = = = = = = =

I like erotic stories a lot. I like them better than pictures or movies. But have been disappointed that, often, you know just barely enough about the characters for context. The sex, bondage, humiliation, whatever is cool and exciting, but the characters all blend together.

It's been suggested that to make characters live, they should be people you (for the protagonists) would like to get to know, or (for the bad guys) hope to never encounter. I'd like to meet these women.

So, fair warning. If you're looking for a continuous series of back-to-back sex scenes, or one where the characters are forced, tricked, blackmailed, or whatever, you likely will not be satisfied with this story.

The first sex act doesn't take place until the end of part one, the two lead characters don't get together until the end of part two. The main character doesn't appear as a puppy girl until until the end of part four. And finally, almost everything that occurs in the story is consensual. The progress of the story explains why they all, and especially the puppy girl, consent.

This story covers the period from May 14, 2011 to April 19, 2014 and is presented in a series of dated entries. You may be tempted to view these as diary entries. They are not. Rather, it's a method of organization and showing passage of time in a first person narrative.

The first entry is for April 19, 2014 and the next is May 14, 2011, so you could view the entire story as a nearly three year flashback. There are occasional references to the more distant past.

There are a few impossibilities. Perhaps the most notable have to do with temperature. First, these people live somewhere in the mid western United States where it's never too cold to go outdoors in the nude. Second, the temperature indoors is somehow comfortable for both nude and clothed people. Finally, there is a medical procedure discussed later in the story which sounds plausible enough for the plot but, to the best of my knowledge, is not actually possible. These are used to move the story along. Just suspend disbelief and enjoy the ride. It's fiction.

*****

Saturday, April 19, 2014, Katy's puppy

= = = = = = = = = =

I go by several names. Early on this sunny Saturday morning, I'm Ginny. I'm sitting with Katy while she eats breakfast. Not eating, just sitting. I've done this often over the last two years. Two years ago tomorrow, in fact.

She's wearing black sneakers and a white t-shirt tucked into her almost new blue hip hugger jeans. The outfit reveals visible bra and panty lines which, frankly, kind of turn me on.

I'm wearing an expensive dog collar around my neck, a dog tail plug in my ass, and a pair of cat-like ears poking up through my shag styled hair. The fur on the ears and tail exactly match my hair in both texture and color and the insides of the ears match my skin tone. The combs that anchor these ears, and my real ears, are completely concealed by my hair. I'm otherwise nude.

She's sitting in her usual chair on the right side of the kitchen table. I'm kneeling on floor to her left, sitting on my ankles. My arms are crossed on her left thigh with my head resting on them. I feel my dangling breasts wiggle whenever one of us move.

She pets me from time to time and, occasionally, feeds me bits of her breakfast with her fingers, sometimes having me sit up and beg. After each bite I lick her fingers clean then snuggle back down on her thigh.

Despite the the cat-like ears, I'm a puppy. A submissive puppy girl. And Katy is my owner.

I more or less volunteered for this. I have never been forced, blackmailed, threatened or anything of that nature. To paraphrase, "I was made an offer I couldn't refuse."

So, how does a thirty-three year woman old become a twenty-one year old girls puppy?

Well, we're going to go back almost three years and find out...

Saturday, May 14, 2011, The boarder

= = = = = = = = = =

My boarder, Katy, moved into my guest suite today. Several of her friends helped. They were quick, quiet, polite, and very efficient. Arrival to departure was less than an hour. One of them hooked up her computer and set up her laptop while the others moved her belongings in. After they were gone, she set about putting everything away and personalizing the room. That took her into the evening.

Since my biological parents died, except for the few years I was married to Brian, my older sister Nancy has been looking out for me. I've lived alone since I was widowed. I have a few outside activities, mostly those Brian had gotten me into, but they've been going away as time passes. Nancy has pushed or pulled me into a few others. Never the less, I'm becoming reclusive, or so Nancy says. I guess she's right. She decided it was time I had someone living with me.

So, I needed a live in companion. I didn't want romantic entanglements. Really, I didn't even want anyone in my house. But Nancy can be persuasive, and has an annoying habit of being right. I agreed and we advertised for a boarder. I was embarrassed by the idea of looking for a companion. It felt like looking for a baby sitter. So that wasn't specified in the ad. I was supposed to bring it up during the interviews, but I didn't do too good a job of it.

After a dozen woman came to talk to me, Katy interviewed. I couldn't say why, but I felt that Katy would be the right person. It felt like there was something in her that I needed. And maybe something in me that she needed too. It would be most of a year before we discovered that I was so right.

Some of this description I learned later, of course. Katherine Marie Berkshire is 18 years old, 5' 10" tall, 145 pounds, measures 34B-25-35, has long straight brunette hair, parted in the middle, and chocolate brown eyes. She exercises regularly and plays sports, mostly soccer and tennis, fairly often. She is in better physical condition than I am, taller and stronger. As I was to learn later, she could pick me up without any trouble.

She can be accurately described as pretty and cute. On some occasions I think she's beautiful, but I have to admit that could be me seeing her through how I feel about her.

I suppose I should describe myself too. My full name is Virginia Marie (Sanders) Andrews. Most people call me Virginia. Some close friends, of which there are very few, call me V. My older sister often calls me Gin. Even though Ginny is a common nick name for Virginia, I don't like it. Except when... well, we'll get to that.

I'm 30 years old, 5' 6" tall, 120 pounds, measure 38D-26-38, natural curly blond hair with blue eyes. Those 38D's are very firm. I exercise daily, thus am in excellent physical condition.

To look at me, I'm a classic Hollywood bimbo. Short, blonde, blue eyes, hour glass figure, big boobs and, I'm told, a beautiful face. In counter to that, I have a tested IQ well above average and keep up with the world. I didn't go to college, but have studied several subjects extensively since I got married and widowed.

Katy is the office manager and on-site IT support for the local branch of an insurance agency with numerous offices in this part of the state.

Over the next four months she was the ideal boarder. Quiet, neat, bought her share of groceries and household supplies, punctual paying her board and remotely friendly. But the companion part just didn't happen.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011, The companion

= = = = = = = = = =

I was on the phone just after lunch talking to Nancy about life. We talked for an hour or so about once a week. The subject of Katy came up and we discussed the companion part of things and that it seemed I'd picked the wrong person. I still felt like I'd picked correctly but couldn't figure out how to develop the companion part. I should mention here that I'm afraid of new relationships. I saw the failure as mine, not hers.

Unknown to me, Katy had come home during her lunch break because she's forgotten some files she needed. The overhead garage door would have alerted me, but since she was going right back out, she'd left her car in the driveway. I was using my cell phone, wandering around the house doing a little dusting while Nancy and I talked. I went into my room, leaving the door open since I wasn't planning to stay long.

I flopped on my bed, staring at the ceiling, playing with the duster, as we continued. The door to the master and guest suites are across the hall from each other. As she walked up the hall she heard me talking, noticed the open door, and stopped, not wanting to disturb me. She'd just decided to go back downstairs and come in noisily, so I'd know she was there, when she heard her name. Her very human response was to listen.

After hearing my comments she knocked on my door then pushed it the rest of the way open. I jumped to my feet staring at her. "Katy!"

"Virginia... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was going to my room and I heard my name and, well, you know..."

I said, "Nancy. Something's just come up. I'll have to call you back."

I hung up, never taking my eyes off her. "Katy... I didn't mean for you to... Um... Well... I'm not going to make you move out. I mean, I never made it clear that..."

She said, "I'm sorry. I kind of thought when we interviewed that you were also looking for a companion. But you were so remote when I moved in that I thought I'd been mistaken and you just wanted to be left alone."

"No, I just have a hard time getting to know new people."

She said, "Well then, do you have some time to talk right now?"

I managed to say, "Sure, yes." But really, I was feeling afraid.

She got out her phone and called into her office to tell them she might not be back in today. We went down to the kitchen, made coffee, and talked. We talked for hours, well into the afternoon, taking a break to have dinner, then continued out on the back porch and eventually on the back lawn lying side by side watching the sunset afterglow and the stars come out.

You couldn't really say that we became friends at that first conversation. Perhaps well informed strangers would be right. But the relationship did develop into friendship over the next month. We went places together about once a week and found that we introduced each other as friends rather than as landlord or boarder. And we talked, though we didn't have another of those noon-to-night conversations again for many months.

We discussed relationships and love and sex. I found out that she was a lesbian and that one of the women who'd helped her move in was her girlfriend. And I told her I wasn't interested in women in that way. We were pretty open with each other. But we'd learn later that we'd both kept some pretty big secrets. That was probably for the best because by the time those secrets came out we'd become close friends and they were easier to express. And easier to do something about.

Monday, October 17, 2011, First indications

= = = = = = = = = =

Most of the time Katy dresses in what she calls her "uniform." Clothes chosen so she could always be dressed neatly without having to think too much about what to wear each day. She didn't much get into clothes so she'd picked things that she could wear more or less all the time.

She has a dozen pairs of full length jeans, mostly hip hugger style but also a few high waist ones. And some very short short jeans, not for work. All of similar style and several shades of blue, plus a few black. A couple of dozen t-shirts, again all in a similar style but in a wide selection of colors.

When we found each others clothes in the washer or dryer we moved them along to the next place. So I knew what she wore under those clothes too. Her bras and panties were mostly white or light pink cotton in simple, functional styles. Panties riding low on her hips and the bras just tall enough to cover her nipples. Sometimes, if she wasn't going out, she didn't wear a bra, and she was small enough to get away with it.

All of her clothes were always clean and neat. She didn't go in for cut-offs or jeans with holes in them. She had other clothes, of course. Skirts, blouses, dresses, and a couple of suits for occasional use at work.

She had told me she needed to go to the corporate offices today and had had one of her suits cleaned. I'd picked it up for her yesterday, when I picked up one of my dresses, and hung it in the laundry. As I came along the downstairs hall this morning I saw the suit hanging on the open door to the laundry. The washer and dryer and a work surface are in there, but so where a toilet, shower and sink. As I approached I could hear her humming and moving around.

The hall is carpeted and I was barefoot, wearing only my robe. As I came to the door I was about to speak when I saw her. Her back was to me as she ironed the blouse I gathered she intended to wear with the suit. She was wearing black patent leather high heels, black thigh-high stockings, and panties. But not her usual cotton panties. These were black satin and with a somewhat higher waist and higher cut leg holes. I noticed the matching black satin bra and a bottle of cleaning fluid on the dryer.

She was moving back and forth, ironing and sort of dancing to the tune she hummed. Her hair had been styled a little, she usually just combed it straight down. To my eye at that moment, she was utterly beautiful. I felt a twitch in my pussy which very much surprised me. I'd always thought of myself as strictly straight. I gasped, mostly in surprise at my reaction. She dropped the iron, snatched up the blouse and turned, using it to cover her breasts.

She said, "I'm so sorry, I thought I'd shut the door." I found my eyes drawn to the contrasting color of her skin in the gap between her stocking tops and panties and then to her satin covered crotch. I dragged my eyes up to her face. What the hell was going on with me?

I replied, "No, no. It's alright. Um, do you want coffee?" It was lame, but I needed take the conversation somewhere else.

She relaxed, smiled, and said, "Yes, thank you. That would be lovely." I went to the kitchen, a turmoil of emotions. I just knew she 'd seen where I was looking after she turned around.

I guessed that she'd needed to remove spots from the blouse and took off her bra to keep from getting any of the fluid on it. But those thoughts were way in the back of my mind, my impulse to understand any situation. I put the coffee on and stood there watching it, trying to sort out why seeing a woman, admittedly a pretty one, and dressed very sexily, had aroused me. My hand crept into my robe to feel myself. My arousal reactions are usually pretty dramatic. I never do close up all the way down there. My inner labia always poke out. And my clitoris is a bit on the large and long side. When I'm turned on it peeks out beyond my lower lips and everything swells quite noticeably. I slipped my finger inside my folds. My clitoris was just barely poking out of it's hood.

I heard the laundry door close and snatched my hand out of my robe, quickly rinsed off my fingers, and got down two cups. I'd started to pour just as the two way kitchen door pushed open and she walked in, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She was fully dressed, the suit having a conservative hemline just above her knees. She looked great. But in my mind I was wondering what that bra looked like on her. I mentally shook me head and went about preparing our coffee. We'd both learned how the other liked it. I put hers in her usual place at the table, then took my usual place watching her.

She was putting things into her briefcase on the island, so her back was to me. I could just barely see her panty lines through her skirt and found myself fixating on them. I looked her up and down and for the first time in my life I really understood the expression "mentally undressing her."

She turned to sit and I focused my attention on her face.

She said, "Really, Virginia, I'm sorry about that. I was pretty sure you were sleeping and I forgot to take my suit up to my room. So I went down to the laundry in my underwear to clean my blouse and finish getting dressed."

I replied, "It's OK, Katy. I was just surprised. If you don't mind me asking, why stockings?"

She smiled and ran her hand over her knee, feeling the nylon. "Because my girlfriend hates panty hose. She says they look awful, they're lazy, and make it harder to use the rest room. I guess she's right about how they look, if you're not wearing clothes. I'm not sure about the lazy part, though. Panty hose can be pretty hard to get on correctly. But I think she's right about the rest room. It's a lot quicker when you don't have to struggle your panty hose down then back up."

She seemed to consider for a moment, then asked, "What do you wear?"

"Oh, stockings. Either thigh-highs, like yours, or the older kind that need a garter belt. Brian hated panty hose and I got used to stockings. I guess I agree about the bathroom."

"Well, you're just a bit old fashioned aren't you? I wear the garter belt sort for Betty sometimes. I bet you look very sexy in them."

I looked up, but she was looking into her coffee. It had apparently been just a casual comment. I'd thought for a second she was coming on to me. And was surprised to find that I felt disappointed that she wasn't. If she wasn't. I really didn't know how to play the flirting game.

She continued, "Look, I won't do that again. I'll make sure I wear a robe."

"No, Katy. Really, it's all right. When I was living alone I used to go around here naked most of the time." I was more than a bit surprised that I'd admitted that. And I thought, "Am I coming on to her?"

She looked at me curiously, maybe a bit surprised and smiled. "You're a real dare devil sometimes, aren't you?" I wasn't sure how to answer that. She stood up, finishing her coffee. "Well, don't let me being here stop you. It's your house. Wear, or don't wear, whatever you like."

"Oh, I couldn't. Not with someone else..." I trailed off to silence. My feelings about the idea confused me.

She put her cup in the sink and picked up her briefcase. "V, when I lived alone I did the same thing and loved it. Tell you what. If you will, I will. OK?"

I was pleasantly shocked by the idea, feeling my pussy tingle again. I said, "Well, maybe..." and trailed off again. I'm usually pretty articulate, but I wasn't showing it this morning.

She looked above me at the kitchen clock. "Oops, long drive today. Gotta fly! Bye!" And she was gone.

The sight of her topless and in that lingerie was stuck in my mind. The idea of going around the place nude and her seeing me was stuck in my mind. And the idea of seeing her like that was stuck in my mind. And it all turned me on so much. I felt my nipples harden, my pussy open and my clit slide out. I didn't even get up, and she hadn't even backed out of the garage, when I threw my robe open and masturbated hard sitting in my kitchen. I came and got up to put my coffee cup in the sink. Then leaned on the counter and played with myself again. I was awash in confusion. I wanted to show her my body and I wanted to see hers. I'd never had any interested at all in women before. What was happening to me?