Chrissy S Rediscovery Of Womenhood

Working as an EO in the local tax office, Christina had a reasonably comfortable life. Living in a leafy suburb, she owned a large semi-detached house. Her parents had left her a sizeable sum when they died, her mother first, and then her father within a few months. She had sold their house, and with the money they had left her had been able to buy her current home, with a small mortgage.

Working hours were convenient for her, Monday to Friday, 08:00am until 16:30pm. She was a single girl, living alone, but had come to prefer it that way. Having broken up with her boyfriend around five years ago, she had settled into her life. He hadn't lived with her, so the parting was relatively uncomplicated. The sex had been good, but the relationship deteriorated, slowly at first, arguments short but not very heated, but they became worse and more frequent, until it culminated in a blazing row, where she had slapped him, and told him to get out.

He tried to reconnect with her, but too much had happened between them, so reluctantly he accepted that it was over. Christina, concentrated on refurbishing her house, working her way through the decorating room by room, taking her time making sure she created a comfortable stylish home for herself.

She was 27, with long almost waist length dark hair, which she wore in a ponytail. Clear white skin, twinkling green eyes. Her face, small, but immensely pretty. She had a slight figure, weighing 115lbs, 5"3" with 34D breasts, they were almost conical, with pale pink tubular nipples, beautifully shaped legs, although her pubic mound was a bit pronounced, and had a light covering of darkish hair. She was altogether a nice figure of a woman, and men found her very attractive.

However, after the split up with her boyfriend, she couldn't find anyone with whom she felt she wanted to start a steady, long-term relationship. She tired quickly of going out on dates, finding herself becoming irritated by the banality of some of the chat up lines which young men used. Once or twice, she had had brief but unsatisfactory fumbles with men she'd picked up, fingering her either in her car, or against a wall. However, never actually getting to have sex with them. She parted from them feeling a little disconcerted, somehow a bit dirty, and gave up after the first few escapades.

It had been so long since she'd had sex, she struggled to remember what it felt like. She missed it even though she ruthlessly suppressed her desires. Her last time was when she'd had her new kitchen fitted, more than three years ago now. The two kitchen fitters were mature men, not particularly good looking, but confident in the demeanour. Both were skilled and attentive to their standards of work, ensuring that everything was neat and professionally installed.

She knew they had been interested in her, hearing them whispering to each other, and frequently catching them glancing at her. So, each day, she wore looser more attractive clothing, forsaking her usual home garb of leggings and tee shirts, for skirts, dresses, and attractive lingerie, making sure they had the opportunity for a revealing flash. She'd made them morning coffee, and afternoon tea, making sure they caught the occasional glimpse of her body as she turned, or her underwear when she bent down or reached up for something.

On the final day, she'd watched them snagging the finishing touches and had slipped upstairs to her bedroom. Unbuttoning her dress, she dropped the bodice down and took off her bra, pulling the dress back up over her upper body. Then reaching under the skirts, she took her knickers off, leaving them on her bed with the bra.

Picking up a spare pillow she walked downstairs and into the kitchen to inspect and approve the work. The two workmen demonstrated the various parts and appliances before one of them said.

"There you are miss, all finished."

She didn't reply immediately, and they all stood in silence looking at each other. Then turning away, she placed the pillow on the edge of her oak wooden table, and without a word, opened the front of the dress, dropping the bodice to her waist, revealing her breasts to them. They looked approvingly at the gently wobbling flesh. Her hard prominent nipples, pink, tubular as they jutted out from her aureole. With a partial smile, she lifted her hems, pulling the dress and stiff white broderie anglaise half slip, up to her waist, giving them a full view, revealing an erotic tempting sight, before turning and leaning forwards over the table. Her arm under her stomach and her hips resting on the pillow, again she could feel her bottom wobbling, and felt extremely excited knowing that it looked inviting to them. She felt her vagina tenting, and her labia engorging between her legs, and as she lay there breathless in anticipation, she could only just touch the floor with her toes and the balls of her feet.

There were no words of response, for a moment she worried, almost panicking that she had misread the situation, but then she heard the buzz as they unzipped, and the rustle as they pulled their trousers down. Without any words, each man took her in turn, mounting her firmly from behind, giving her an experience like no other, thrilling in the suddenness of it. The raw physical movements, the minimum of emotion, the sounds from them as they each penetrated her, underlined by the squelching sloshing noise from her wetness as they ground into her, fast and hard. Both men grunting as they thrust into her hungry body, punctuated by her shrill screams of delight. Panting and gasping in ecstasy, accentuated by the scraping of the table legs on the tiled kitchen floor.

Both men having her many times, rough, hard, not holding back from their enjoyment of her. They were thoroughly satisfying her, indulging themselves and her, time and time again. At one point the younger of the two knelt behind her, probing her with his tongue, licking and tasting her. After a few minutes he was pushed to one side, and the other man slammed into her, his tempo, rapid almost furious. After he came, they changed place again, and the younger man, filled her, slow hard and deep. Easily more than an hour and a half passed before they all finished.

She sluggishly raised herself up from the table, her knees weak, leaving her unsteady on her feet. The combined fluids, both of their semen and her vaginal fluid dribbling down to the floor, long strands of viscous liquid forming a pool between her feet. She smiled and nodded at them when they redressed themselves, they smiled in return, watching her as the slow sticky fall of fluids oozed from her. Then they picked their tool bags and with a brief wave, left her there alone in the new kitchen. Feeling the pulsing warm sensation in her belly. She heard them laughing and talking with each other as they as went down the path.

"Well, she was really good, tight, wet, a nice surprise at the end of the job."

"Not so much a surprise, she was giving us the come on all through the week."

"I didn't pick up on that until today, but I'll bet she won't forget that in a hurry."

"Come on, she loved it, didn't you hear her squealing?"

"Yes, I did, and if it wasn't so late, we'd have been up her for longer."

"Let's hope she doesn't catch, it would be a nightmare trying to work out which of us was the father."

"Don't, just thinking of her in the family way is too much, she'd be big, and carry high, God, what a turn on."

Christina felt herself blushing, she was a bit disappointed to be spoken about in that manner, but thought, 'I don't care, it was a nice way for me to say thank you, and it was good for me as well, I needed it.'

Remaining standing in her new kitchen she waited for her strength to return, watching the ever-growing puddle at her feet, and marvelling at how much semen they had filled her with. Eventually, she picked up the pillow, and still clutching her skirts around her waist, she went upstairs, stripped off and had a warm invigorating shower. The feeling of well-being lasted for almost a week, but since then, there had been nothing.

She had hoped deep down that when she had her new bathrooms and ensuite fitted, she might have another quick but satisfying experience, but both plumbers were elderly, and not really her type. Of course, she had to move to a hotel for a few days while the water was off, and the major work carried out. When they finished, she inspected the work, signed it off, and was once again left alone to the freedom of her own devices.

The years passed, and Christina put thoughts of physical enjoyment right to the back of her mind. Apart from a bit of flirting at work, or a little excitement when she watched from the big bay window in her bedroom, as people from neighbourhood had their affairs and encounters. She often sat there in the dark, the curtains open, but she made sure she was shielded by the heavy viole nets that hung in front of the glass.

She would sit back on a big high-backed comfortable chair, carful not to be too close to the window so that her face might be lit up by passing car headlights. Always placing a thick towel over the seat, she would sometimes finger herself if she witnessed something particularly sexually exciting. A young couple across the road from her, often left their curtains open, and she would see them in all sorts of activity together, finding that particularly stimulating. She particularly liked watching when the young woman bounced up and down on her husband, her breasts flapping in time with their movements. On those occasions she would bring herself off, feeling the fluid spurt out of her genitals, feeling almost like peeing, but much more electrifying, releasing her tension in an exhilarating rush.

Afterwards, clutching the towel to her groin, she would shuffle to her ensuite, and rinse herself in her shower, enjoying the feel of the clean fresh water streaming over her body, relaxing and soothing as she came down from the sensual peak. Drying herself, she dressed in a simple short cotton nightie and went to bed, the tension relieved as she slept deeply.

Occasionally her sleep was disturbed and restless, she dreamed of faceless men, taking her roughly, subjecting her to the most carnal of treatment, she would wake, breathing hard, covered in perspiration her skin prickling and her crotch, wet and slippery. Relieved yet disappointed to find that it was only a vivid dream. Now and again, she would wake suddenly, finding herself frozen, unable to move, full of fear, seeing a strange man in the shadows, pulling her bedclothes off, and lifting her nightdress up. She cried out to try and intimidate whoever he was.

"No, no, don't, I can see you, leave me alone, no, no, NO!"

Before suddenly waking, slowly regaining her ability to move, and realising she'd had a nightmare, and experienced sleep paralysis. The flood of relief when she found there had been nobody there, was comforting even though sometimes she wished there had been.

Her next-door neighbour, Helen, was a divorcee, a fluffy little blonde, with a bright and lively personality. She has befriended Christina shortly after she moved in. They often visited each others house, enjoying coffee and each others company. They talked about their work, and life in general, she and Helen becoming more relaxed as time went by. Chrissy felt an attraction to her that she found difficult to ignore, and even more difficult to understand, as far as she could remember she had never had any sexual interest in a woman before. Helen's husband had worked in the offshore industry, off the Scottish coast, and had met another women while there. Inevitably their marriage ended amicably, and part of the settlement allowed her to keep the house.

Helen had an 18 year old son, Chrissy had attended his birthday party to keep Helen company. He was a quiet, gangly young man, she didn't take a lot of notice of him at the time. Some of his friends made her feel a little uncomfortable though, sniggering and laughing when she was in the living room. She caught a few words as they whispered and laughed together.

"Wouldn't you like to?"

"She's gagging for it."

"Look at her muff, that's really juicy! You can see her split."

"You know what she needs?"

"I know what I'd like to give her."

She went to the kitchen and spent the rest of the party, sitting with Helen, talking about general girly things. Their friendship grew gradually until they were able to talk freely about intimate matters. Christina became even more aware that Helen was bisexual, and although she had never had a true lesbian experience, she began to wonder what it might be like, and if Helen were to be the woman who would introduce her to the delights of sex with another girl.

Over the next few weeks when she was sitting by her bedroom window, she noticed that Robert, Helen's son, very often walked home with one of his many girlfriends. Sometimes stopping by the telegraph pole for a good night kiss, most of the time that's all it was. However now and again, it turned into a wrestling match, he turned into an octopus (as from my experience, a lot of them do), trying to get inside her clothes. Usually the girl resisted, pushing his hands away, twisting her body to dissuade him, until he gave up and they would continue home.

He stopped there because it was out of sight of his mother's house. On several occasions the girl would have a car, parking in the same spot. Chrissy couldn't see much, but from the rocking of the car, it was easy to let her imagination take control. More lately, he had obviously learned how to charm whichever girl he was with, and the interaction from him was more sophisticated, kissing her, pressing against her, and gently pulling up her skirt. On a few occasions she had seen the gleam of white panties under her hem, as he pulled them down over the girl's thighs.

Open mouthed and breathless Chrissy would watch the girl's faces turn upwards, as their heads went back, against the pole. Robert would bury his face in her shoulder, and they would have sex. She was thrilled to see on these occasions his energetic pelvic actions, driving himself into her, while often they would wrap their legs around him, tucking their heels around his thighs, and behind his knees. Chrissy was fascinated by his sexual ability, and as he climaxed, he would stiffen his back, slow almost to a halt. Finishing by jerking with each thrust, forcing himself into her, holding the position as he ejaculated several times. Then they would hold each other, kissing and caressing before the girl adjusted her clothes, and they walked on together.

Chrissy was much taken with what she saw on those occasions, she couldn't help fingering herself until she gushed, the thin fluid soaking into the towel. The image of him slamming into those girls, grinding them hard up against the rough wooden pole, stayed in her mind. Although she remonstrated with herself for having such thoughts about one so young. Yet, he was of legal age, although almost 10 years younger than her, it didn't stop her picturing, and wishing that it were her outside, being slammed hard against the wooden telegraph pole. To the extent that it often formed part of those hot fervent and vivid dreams she had at night as she slept, restless and sweaty with aching passion.

Often when she was walking up to the local shops, she would pause at the telegraph pole, looking to see if there was any evidence of what she watched in the evenings. Of course there was nothing visible, but the texture of the rough wood under her palm, and the mild smell of the creosote used to preserve the pole, stayed with her as the weeks wore on.

Early in the spring, she managed to take a week off, deciding to decorate the last of the upstairs rooms. Taking time over the weekend to chose paper, and paint in readiness for her start on Monday. On Saturday afternoon she took tea with Helen, where they discussed current events.

"So, what are you doing with your week off Chrissy?"

"I'm going to wallpaper the spare room, I'll paint the ceiling on Monday morning then do the skirting boards and mask off the window frames. Hopefully, I'll put size on the walls before I go to bed. Then I'll start hanging the paper on Tuesday morning."

"Sounds good, but it's a bit of a tight timetable for you on your own."

"Well, I usually do it in that timeframe, providing I don't run into any snags."

"Hmm, Robert's off next week as well, I can send him round to help you if you like?"

Her heart skipped a beat, and the image of him in the street outside her house flashed through her mind before she replied.

"Are you sure he won't mind?"

"No of course not, he's off to college after next week, he's going for a City and Guilds in painting and decorating. I'm sure he'd welcome the experience."

"All right then, I could use a pair of helping hands, sometimes hanging the paper can be a bit of a tangle on my own."

'What time would you like him there?"

"7:30am, if he can make it."

"I'll make sure he does"

True to Helen's word, he knocked on her front door just after 7:30am, smiling at her as she opened the door.

"Good morning, Robert, have you had breakfast?"

"Morning Chrissy, no, and if it's easier to call me Rob, that's fine with me."

"Come on in, and we'll make a start."

They had coffee and bacon stuffed croissants before she led him upstairs and into the room. She'd cleared it out over the weekend and had brought in the stepladder along with her decorating tools.

"I'm going to paint the ceiling first, then we can do the skirting boards and mask off the UPVC window frames, before I paint the windowsill."

"What would you like me to do?"

She paused before answering, absolutely knowing what she'd like him to do, her mind full of thoughts of him deep inside her, satisfying her hunger, and the powerful ache in her belly. Then replied.

"Keep the paint tray topped up, use the old kitchen ladle, it's pretty quick with the roller, and should be dry enough by the time we finish the gloss painting of the woodwork."

There floor was bare, so she wasn't bothered by paint drips, she was going to choose carpet and underlay the following week and arrange to have it fitted.

Wearing her old leggings, she stood on the stepladder, while Robert kept the silk emulsion paint topped up. She reached up and applied the paint with the roller, it made a satisfying sticky crackle as she ran it over the ceiling. It was easy to see where she had painted, and she covered the plaster quickly. Glancing down, she saw her groin was level with his line of sight.

The leggings were tight and hugged her lower body closely. The smooth elasticity of the cloth drawn tightly against her skin. She hadn't bothered too much with the panties underneath them, choosing them for comfort rather than style. Her leggings were soft and tight. Perhaps they would have been more comfortable without knickers, but she wanted the feeling of security that underwear gave her. He was staring in fascination at her pubic mound, pressed against the crotch of the pants. The material was thin and tight against her tummy, so much so that the shape and texture of her body hair was visible through the front. Her movement had drawn the leggings in close, and outlined the fleshy bulge, clearly showing her cleft, as the pants swept smoothly down between her legs and under her vulva.

Eyes full of amazement, he slowly looked up and saw her watching him. She didn't react, pretending she hadn't really noticed, but again the vision of him with the girls outside flicked through her mind, and she felt a little leak into her panties as she came up to arousal.

It took about two hours to finish the ceiling, and they began to do the woodwork, Rob taking care of the skirting boards, while she masked off the window frame, and carefully painted the windowsill. They stopped about halfway through just before lunchtime, and she put the brushes in cleaning solution. Laying out two clean ones for the afternoon session.