Trilogy Part 2

The weekend arrived at last, and Janet was glad, it would give them time to relax even more together, away from the stress and the tensions of work and every day life. The week following Valentines' had been exciting enough. For two days they had not made love to each other, no penetration, no "sex" as such. Instead they had missed a day altogether, while they slept and recovered from the excesses. She had rung his work, saying he had come down with a bug of some sort, and had not been able to sleep all night. They said it was fine, and hoped he would be well enough to come back to work as soon as he was better. She had laughed out loud when she came off the phone. My, if only they knew!

Waking him with tea and a light snack in the late afternoon, they had chatted, the embarrassed silence broken by idle chit-chat, and then snuggled up together under the duvet, drifting in and out of sleep. They touched, they stroked, they even kissed, almost everything led to the point of wanting, but they both held back, savouring the memories of the night before. Showering together, they attempted nothing sexual, just a bonding and a closeness of themselves, as if reading each other's minds.

Rising before him, as was usual on a Saturday, she slipped downstairs, cooking him a breakfast, nibbling on some toast herself, before sauntering into the bedroom with a tray full of aroma. She set it on the bedside table, and woke him with a flourish of the curtains, the strong sunlight cascading into the room. As he blinked into waking, her shape was silhouetted beautifully in the window, the sunlight pouring through the thin cheesecloth dress, defining the shape of her legs, all the way to her crutch. She turned to face him, greeting him with a laugh and a call of "Come on, sleepyhead!" Yawning, he sat up, and saw the tray. Reaching over, he picked the plate up, and began forking the scrambled eggs down hungrily. She wandered across, and poured a tea for them both. Sitting on the bed, she discussed the weekend with him, as he ate his breakfast.

When he had eaten, she reached across his body, his large hands grasping her waist, rustling the skirt of the dress up to her waist. She wore nothing under this; it was hers, and his, favourite outfit for long summer days. She kissed him, headily enjoyed the plying of his fingers across her sex, the tips running along each lip, before sliding across and away to reach her waist on each side. Kneeling, she pulled the cover away from him, knowing how hard he would be first thing in the mornings. Her fingers clamped around him, the heat burning into her hand. Deftly, she slid one knee over him, so that she straddled him. His hands still held her waist, his eyes looking into hers.

Holding his cock, she lowered herself to his heat, until she sensed they were only a fraction apart. With a rocking of her hips, she slid his bell-end along her slit, the outer lips parting under the gentle pressure, and her moistness coating him. She could stand the torment no more, and he was gripping her tighter and tighter, letting her know the effect she was having on him, so she sat down hard, her arse planting onto the tops of his thighs. God, he felt so good, so hard inside her. She placed her hands onto his, and, releasing the dress from his hold, lifted it up, slowly, deliberately, till it cleared her head, and she threw it towards the window. The material floated across the sunlit air, shadows flitting across them till it came to rest half on, half off the chair there. Throwing her head back, she placed her hands on his knees, arching her back and presenting her whole naked body to his gaze. She knew what he would be doing, as his hips lifted and fell slightly, urging only the slightest movement inside her.

His eyes would drop to her clean shaven mound, and she pictured the sight he would have in his mind, his smooth hairless cock cleaving her mound in two, and disappearing into her, swallowed whole by her hole. They had discussed the shaving previously, he had been surprised at her wanting him totally clean, but then did agree that he had always wanted to see her denuded, and it was only fair. She enjoyed the luxurious feel of sliding up and down his shaft, well lubricated from her own moistness. Suddenly, all too soon, she could sense the orgasm coming, the pounding in her ears as she carried on with her relentless pace.

It was as if by telepathy, but they could each sense when the other was on the point of scaling that electric peak. He said he always got a "tingling" on the head of his cock, and she always seemed to feel a certain movement in him, only minute, but detectable to her muscles within. She always tried to hold herself back from her own coming, so they could pulse together. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. This time was perfect. As she gasped for air, and his hands cupped her wholesome breasts, she leant forward to let him take her weight on his arms. She whimpered and moaned as her cunt clenched and spasmed, gripping the shaft of his cock deep within her, and then that movement of his. Oh God, she felt it, and she came on him, as his cock gave up the fruits of his loins, his come melting into the pools of her juices around him. She stayed on top of him, she didn't move away. She squeezed and tightened herself inside, milking him of every drop opening her eyes to look at his face, and see his feelings, plain to see.

They were both bathed in the sunlight from the window, and she loved the warmth of it on her skin, it gave her a sense of well being. She stayed atop of him, feeling him soften inside her, and she wriggled her arse around on him to trap him inside. His cock was held, and couldn't escape from her. She rubbed one hand up and down his chest, supporting her weight on the other, his own large hands roaming across her belly, her hips and her waist. He groaned as she teased him, and he suddenly sat up.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, his face rose to meet hers, lowered as it was. They kissed, and their tongues danced around, their eyes locked onto each other's. As he took his weight on one arm, his free hand roamed her back and her shoulders, pressing, squeezing, till he suddenly grabbed one cheek of her arse, stopping her moving. She had felt him hardening up inside her, slowly, and she marvelled at his recovery rate. True, he did not always come when they were doing this, twice in a row, but he was always able to be hard for her, and let her pleasure herself on his shaft. He sat upright, forcing her backwards, her legs aching to be released, she was now trapped on his legs, his large hands embracing her, almost squeezing the air from her as he held her close to him.

His hands found their way onto her legs, and bending his knees, he forced her legs from under her, straightening them behind him. She was pleased at the release; it gave her legs a rest from the aching tension they had been under. But she was now at his mercy. He swivelled his legs off the side of the bed, taking her with him, still holding him. Still stroking her back and her sides, he began nibbling on her neck, licking and kissing his way round to that little soft spot at the back of her ears, knowing that she loved this. She threw her head back, eyes closed, murmuring as his lips and tongue teased the soft skin to peaks of excitement. The thrills shivered down inside her, to the very pit of her belly, making her moist once more at his deft touches. She threw her arms around his neck to make sure she didn't lean too far and fall.

Suddenly, he stood, catching her unawares. Though he still had his arms around her and she hers around his neck, the full impact of her weight concentrated, just momentarily, on their crutches. She gasped as her lips were crushed against the base of his cock, still hard and inside her. His hands dropped to cup the smooth cheeks of her arse, and he lifted her slightly, and she caught her breath. When she had regained her senses, she looked him in the eye, and started to squeeze his shaft with rippling tidal pulsing of her inner muscles. He laughed, the chuckle rising in his throat, and he swiftly stepped to the wall, slamming her back against the sun-warmed paper.

His weight pinned her there, still with his shaft inside her. She wriggled, trying to break free and gain some purchase, but he held her well. Moans escaped her, as he began to flex his knees, his cock sliding slightly in and out of her. She dropped her hands to hold and caress him, and suddenly, he was pinning her back against the wall, his fingers wrapped in hers, holding her hands tight. He stretched his arms up, above her head, taking hers with him. She let out a yell, of pain and surprise, as suddenly he held all her weight there in his hands, hanging her against the wall. The muscles and sinews in her arms screamed out as her full body hung, like a painting, stark against the patterned paper.

"God John, let me down, this will hurt".

She began to writhe and wriggle as he eased the pressure of his body from hers, still holding her up. And then he laughed. He began to rise up and down, his knees bending, his cock pumping in and out of her. Despite the sharp reminder of her agony in her arms, her cunt began to melt, and she knew he was making her enjoy this, despite how often she asked him to take the weight from her arms. Her legs coiled around him, giving her at least some relief as she took a fraction of her weight onto them and onto his back. This just made him hump her harder, his face reddening as the heat of the moment boiled up into him. She shivered as she felt herself opening wider and wider, and then the dousing of the flames in her groin as she came, and yet still he drove into her.

When at last she opened her eyes, the last of the waves pouring from her and ebbing to a feeling of wellbeing, he stopped. He flexed himself from her, sliding his cock up against her belly, leaving a small trail of her own juices glistening on her skin, as he lowered her till her feet touched the floor. He still held her arms above her head, but slackened from the strain of her body weight. He kissed her hungrily, and she felt the heat of him burning into her skin between them.

Releasing her hands, he rubbed her shoulders and forearms, easing the tightness and tension for her with his kindness. She held him in her arms, rubbing herself against his body, wanting to feel him come inside her. He pulled away from her, smiling, and strode from the room. She heard the shower begin to drum against the base of the bath, and stepped from the bedroom. She stood for a while, watching him shower, cleaning himself of his sleep and sweat. She stood there quite a while, even when he saw her, and carried on showering. She just loved the look of his body, the energy that could be unleashed from him.

When he had finished, he stepped from the sparkling water and grabbed a towel to dry himself. She smiled at him, and, stroking his chest as she passed, stepped into the shower herself. She closed her eyes, and let the water run over her breasts, the drumming of the jets hardening her nipples yet easing away the ache she felt. The heat of the water blended into her skin, soothing, calming, and relaxing her. She rinsed her skin, the jets of water washing away any last tensions and feeling of sleepiness from her body, laying it fresh and open to a whole new day.

Absent-mindedly, she washed herself, sliding a finger into herself as she cleansed her crutch, the water rippling over her open sex making her smile and daydream of love in a waterfall. Her mind snapped into waking, flicking on, and she knew. She knew, she opened her eyes, and saw John standing in the doorway, watching her, and she blushed. His cock, proud and erect, stood before him; he just stood there watching her. She withdrew her hand from her pussy, and turned off the water. Stepping onto the tiled floor, she caught the fresh towel he threw at her, and, with his towel draped around his shoulders he strode back to the bedroom.

II

By the time she reached the bedroom, he was dressed, just buttoning up his denim shirt, as she hugged the towel under her arms. Having cleared up the few pots and cups from the room, he reached across to kiss her, and said he was off to fetch a paper. He didn't like having one delivered, preferring instead to walk down to the local shop and buy one just when he fancied one. He enjoyed the walk, especially on a morning like this and the idle banter in the shop with the owner. Drying her hair, he went down the stairs to the kitchen with the tray.

His call of "See you later" reached her ears just before the sound of the front door closing. His footsteps faded down the driveway and onto the pavement.

Sitting idly, she wondered what to wear, and what they would be doing today. Days, when alone at home, she wore nothing at all, but never told John that! The detached house was perfect for her freedom, and when she knew the neighbours were out, she sometimes ventured into the garden to sunbathe naked. She laughed out loud and blushed with embarrassment at the time a decorator had been next door, not knowing, and not seeing him down the side of their neighbour's house, painting the guttering. She had strolled out to lie on a towel on the lawn, only becoming aware of him when his ladder had rattled!

There she was, naked as the day she was born, legs splayed apart, lying on her belly. He must have been able to see the wispy pubic hairs at the point of her mound. She had buried her head on her arms almost in shame, drawing her legs tight together, carrying on sunbathing till she heard the echo of his ladder disappearing round to the front of the house. She had run indoors then, laughing and almost crying, shaking like a leaf at her audacity and the thought of the poor soul unable to believe his eyes! After that, she had always taken more care when going into the garden!

Still smiling from that memory, Janet stood in front of the mirror and studied herself. She never really exercised, but managed to keep fairly fit. Although she only worked three days a week, she tried doing simple things, like taking the lift to the third floor instead of using the lift like the others. She was pleased that she could get to that floor before the lift, and without being breathless any more.

She didn't fancy going shopping in town, it would be packed today, they could always go in the week anyway, and the supermarket could also wait for a lighter day. Janet picked out a long black wrap-around skirt, and a silk blouse, laying them on the bed. Idly she pulled a pair of hold-ups from the drawer, and sitting on the edge of the bed began to put them on. She stood again, in front of the mirror, and marvelled at the clean-ness of her sex, as it pouted, bare and proud.

As she tugged the stockings up, she felt the smoothness of her thighs at the top of the rubber seam of the material. She spotted a gathering of the stocking at her ankle, and bent to smooth it. Her breasts dangled low, as she wrapped her hands around the offending ankle and she began to smooth the material upward with a smooth firm stroke. Catching sight of herself there, in the mirror, and paused to look at her reflection.

Her bum kissed the air, the smooth skin shining in the sunlight. She carried on watching herself as she smoothed all the way to the top of her leg. It was weird, almost like a sense of voyeurism. Her fingers slipped under the elastic and pulled it straight and snug against her warm skin. She loved the kissing grip of the hold ups and the way they allowed her a wild sense of freedom and daring without the suspenders. She loved to wear proper stockings too, but these gave her the freedom of choice, especially when a belt would show and spoil the effect.

Reaching down to the other ankle, she repeated the same process, but all the while watching the person in the mirror. Again, she felt the creamy smooth skin at the top of her legs, and then the heat of her sex as her fingers neared it. But she didn't stop there. She parted her legs slightly, so very slightly, just enough to let her fingers slide across her crack, till she felt the palm of her hand on her sex. Suddenly it was as if she was watching someone else touching themselves, or someone else touching her.

The slim feminine fingers glided backwards and forwards, till her index finger was anointed with juices. Still bent over, she placed her free hand on the floor to balance and support herself, as she began masturbating herself. This was not the usual Janet; this was a new released and freed self. Her fingers gingerly parted the sweet pot of desire, and she slowly slipped the tip of the finger in. She could feel all the ridges, bumps, and smoothness of her sex inside. The invasive finger felt strange, and not her, yet she knew she was here by herself, slipping her own self in and out of her own sex. She bit her lip, and slid another finger inside, then another, till the knuckles of the three fingers were stretching her and nudging her lips wider and wider as they slid deeper and deeper. Suddenly, she was a teenager, exploring her body, finding her sexual newness, and the feelings of want.

Her mind wandered back to her early days when she had discovered sex, and her friend Alison had come most weekends for a year or so, sleeping over. They had never actually been lesbians as such, just two close friends discovering the joys of sex and exploration together. It had seemed a natural thing to do, and then when Alison moved and the weekends stopped, they hadn't spoken of it to anyone else, assuming that all girls were doing it. Janet had carried on touching herself, still finding what she liked, but even that had stopped after a while. She remembered their two nubile 15-year old bodies, naked, sweating in the heat of summer nights as they teased and played with each other.

At the height of their teasing, they would see how many fingers they could slide into each other's quim. Alison had had a phenomenal capacity for slacking her vaginal muscles, till Janet's wrist had slid inside her, forcing Alison to flush with heat, and come, the force pushing the hand out.

That was when she had first discovered her love of receiving oral sex, Alison's tongue parting her lips and teasing her clit, driving her wild with passion. She had had a sense of wild pure passion in her, and the things she did to Janet, just with her mouth, would send her reeling off into a fantastic world of bursting electric inside her whole body. Her legs clamped together, holding the hand there in her thighs, trapping it, and making her feel the tightness that John must feel when he first entered her, and the tightness she must have had when she was with Alison. She moaned, the friction of her finger proving it's worth as it drove her along the path to release.

Alison had even tied her down on more than one occasion, as she teased and tortured her with her fingers and her mouth. Janet's finger still slid in and out, and she rocked on her heels as the memories flooded back, filling her groin with pressure, and the need to come. She dropped onto her knees, her hand splayed in front of her, her head bowed, and her finger still running in and out, in and out. She glanced in the mirror again, watching with excitement as her breasts swayed with the motion of her finger, slipping and sliding.

Watching herself still, imagining the hand at her, the finger inside her was Alison, and she groaned as the first peak of power hit her belly. She whispered Alison's name, and suddenly she was there, she was panting, her head dropping to the floor, her fingers a mere blur of action as she carried on rubbing and penetrating herself, her labia splayed wide open and prey to the best of her fingered attentions.

When the full flood of the orgasm hit her, she threw her head back and called out, she was lost in another world, oh so long ago, and she came powerfully, her hand trapped in her pussy as she clenched in unison with the orgasm. Her breathing slowed, and relaxed, and she squatted back onto her haunches, looking in the mirror at the flush across her bosom and on her cheeks. God, what on earth was she doing, turning into a sex maniac! Seemingly so! Quiet, demure Janet, never one for taking risks or chances, and yet here she was, after years of never really thinking about it, touching herself and pushing herself to orgasm on her own, with just her wild imagination as a partner. Twice in one week! And yet she didn't really feel too guilty, the warmth in her belly chasing that feeling away.