Jenny had not had sex for seventeen days and five hours, not that she had been obsessively counting down the time till this evening, or anything like that. The twelve days in Florida had not been without it's distractions - she knew how to give herself pleasure and it had been pleasant enough - but it lacked the excitement of skin on skin contact, the taste of a man, the smell and sound associated with real sex.
Reluctantly, she had decided to leave her rabbit at home, the rational side of her brain losing out to the embarrassing thought of it being discovered at U.S. customs. When she had returned on Saturday she immediately and enthusiastically became reacquainted, in the hope that it would sate her desire and make the long wait till Tuesday night more bearable. It hadn't. It had merely heightened her longing.
There was no shortage of suitors for a young, attractive and single female living in a small town in the south west of Scotland. However, along with the advantages her home town offered was the downside of everyone knowing your business and feeling free to comment on it. Obviously, this had not curtailed all her activities but increasingly she had felt the need to look elsewhere for enjoyment. When a male student teacher had joined the all-female staff room at the primary school where she taught, twenty miles away in the nearest big town, the opportunity had seemed too good to resist. She was now desperately missing the regular sex that had resulted from her first tentative overtures on that staff night out.
A smile crossed her lips as she thought how such a comparatively innocent act had led to several far more wicked encounters. Her left hand strayed from the steering wheel and she let it rest in her lap. She knew that will power was not a strong point and she smiled to herself again as she gave in to impulse, parted her legs slightly and allowed her hand to travel up her inner thigh. It never failed to amaze, how turned on she could become in an instant. There was already a warm, damp patch between her legs. She flattened the palm of her hand against her stomach and, leading with her middle finger, slipped her hand under the waist band of her pants.
So carried away was she that it took the sound of an HGV overtaking to remind her that she was still driving. She flushed a little as she wondered how much the lorry driver could see from his cab and had a fleeting fantasy about what she might do if she saw him pull over at the next layby.
Maintaining pressure on her clitoris, and driving from memory, Jenny increased the frequency of her rubbing. It was just as well that she was familiar with the road as she became aware of her bottom squirming involuntarily on the seat, felt her face and neck colouring and gave in to a delicious little orgasm that washed over her in pleasant waves and made her hungry for more. Aperitif or hors d'oeuvre she wondered, struggling to concentrate on an analogy whilst her mind was focussed on the main course.
Swinging on to her driveway, Jenny glanced at the clock and quickly calculated that she would have around an hour and a half before he arrived. Plenty of time to tidy up a little, shower, change and compose herself,
"Who am I kidding?" she thought, "it will be anything but composed. I'll be lucky if I even make it into the living room before I'm naked!"
She turned the key in the lock, opened the door and her eyes were immediately drawn to a printed card on the stairs.
"Do not go into the living room. Do not go into the bedroom. Go straight upstairs and take a shower."
Different. Amusing. She had to confess that was what she liked. He must have managed to get here earlier than expected. Not for the first time she congratulated herself on the prescience of providing him with a door key. Dropping her bag on the floor and making sure the door was locked she skipped up the stairs and into the bathroom.
In the shower, luxuriating in the heat and power of the falling water, she decided to make him wait. Despite having risen early and attending to all her beauty routines that morning, she took out her razor and made sure her legs and underarms were smooth. She paid particular attention to the area between her legs - she knew well he responded to visual stimulation and that he would be carrying out a close personal inspection very soon. Distracted, she considered making him wait a little longer but her own impatience prevailed and she turned off the water, quickly towelled down and wrapped a fresh bath sheet round her tanned body before leaving the room. On the floor was another card.
"Go into the spare bedroom. Get dressed."
On the bed were clothes she didn't recognise.
"Stranger than usual," she thought and though she appreciated the effort, there was a part of her that would have loved a fuck on the stairs when she had arrived. She looked at the underwear, a matching set of bra and pants, predominantly black, more decorative than functional but retaining an element of good taste. Sub-consciously she looked at the size and wasn't sure whether to commend him on getting it right or to be worried about the stalker-esque qualities this would have required.
She dropped the sheet and quickly put them on, admiring the effect in her full length mirror. Next, black lace topped hold-up stockings. This was not part of her usual repertoire and she felt sure she had told him about her self-consciousness regarding the length of her legs. It would require a lot of re-assurance to feel comfortable in these. On the floor was a pair of the most ridiculously high shoes she had ever seen. These were what were commonly known as 'fuck me' shoes, she was sure of it. She slipped them on and again assessed herself in the mirror. This was interesting. Her legs looked amazing.
Finally she tried on the little black dress. It had a central full length panel in a white pattern that simultaneously fulfilled the function of accentuating her breasts and hips whilst minimising her waist. She might need to revise her edict that he was never to buy her clothes. It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. And more than anything else she was ready. She thought a little about how her wetness would betray her desire instantly but dismissed her concern. There seemed little point in trying to be cool about it.
With a parting glance at the bed she noticed another card. It must have been under her dress.
"Come to the living room now."
Carefully, she descended the stairs. The curtains were drawn in the living room. The neighbours would wonder why. Probably better than them seeing what is going to happen now, she thought.
As she entered the room she was aware in her peripheral vision of a camera on a tripod and one of the breakfast bar seats in the middle of the room. In her moment of puzzlement she was grabbed from behind by a man dressed in black. She turned to face him and was surprised by the black balaclava and dark glasses. Whilst she was considering this, he cuffed her expertly, produced a masque and placed it over her head. The eyes had been taped up and now she thrilled to find herself handcuffed and blindfolded in her own house, at the mercy of an intruder.
He led her to what she assumed must be the middle of the room and she felt the top of the bar seat against her stomach as he bent down and pushed her feet to the outside of each of the rear legs. Next, he secured her to the legs with what familiarity led her to identify as cable ties. She knew she was going to enjoy this.
With infinite slowness, she felt a hand rising from her left ankle along the length of her inner leg. At the top, intelligent fingers pulled the gusset of her pants away from her pussy and slipped effortlessly inside her. Wet did not even begin to describe what was going on and she revelled in it, letting out little gasps and moans as she moved her body in time with his fingers. It took no time at all before she felt the welcome tension in her tummy muscles. She was glad of the pressure between him and the stool as a powerful orgasm rocked her and threatened to topple her from those shoes. The first of many, she was pleased to acknowledge, he knew just what to do to keep her coming.
