My Secret Life Ch 03

The following material is sexually explicit erotica.

If you are offended by hard-core pornography close this file.

Of course that wasn’t the first time my thoughts had travelled back the more than ten years since Vida and I had parted, and more times than I really cared to remember I had used one or other of the multitude of memories of the times we had had together to try to either console or relax myself by masturbating to them.

And of course there had been other women, many of them, and one or two had been at least as physically attractive as Vida had been, and I had even married one of those, even if only for a few relatively short, tumultuous years. But none of them had ever responded to the clues I occasionally dropped in front of them as to how they might either add something extra to our sex-life, or at the very least, actively demonstrate a little of their supposed love for me.

So my enjoyment of the wearing of lingerie and the occasional transformation into Alana had been restricted to doing it when and as I had done it before I had met her, in private, and alone. And because I then had the memories of how extraordinarily powerful it had been for me when Vida and I shared in it, the results were never even as satisfyingly effective as they had previously been.

By the time it finally came round to the mid-morning break for tea or coffee, although my head was in a real mess from coping with the memories and thoughts I had dredged up, I still went looking for my missing colleague. And even though, for some reason I couldn’t really explain to myself, at least one small part of me hoped I wouldn’t bump into her, I still also kept one watchful eye out for Vida. But, given the number of conference delegates milling around, I wasn’t that surprised that I failed to spot either of them - and if the first session after the break hadn’t been the one I was actually most interested in, I would have probably taken the opportunity to slip quietly away.

There were of course people and faces I knew well or at least recognised but I avoided getting caught up in conversation and, having had a cup of the unimpressive coffee, chose to head back inside the meeting chamber. As everyone does at such meetings I had left my set of conference papers as a marker that that particular seat was already taken and was still some little way away from it when I realised that there was someone sitting in the one adjacent, the one I had been reserving for my still missing colleague. And of course I instantly knew exactly who that ‘someone’ was - Vida!

Given that I had always believed in the precept that it is usually impossible to recapture what has previously been experienced, I was in two minds; whether to simply turn around and leave, or to press forward and then have to face her - and without knowing whether it would turn out to be the wise thing or not, for some reason I chose the latter.

‘Good morning Vida, I trust you are well.’ I said in as reservedly relaxed a voice as I could muster.

She turned, looked up at me, and with a humorous twinkle lighting up her eyes, replied. ‘Well hello Alan, I am, and I trust you are also. And I hope you don’t mind me sitting here - I noticed that whoever you were originally saving this seat for apparently hasn’t shown up.’

‘It would seem not - and of course you’re very welcome.’ I answered hesitantly as I settled down beside her.

‘It’s been a very long time Alan - I understand you have been remarkably busy these last ten years, and successful - at least so far as your career is concerned.’ she said.

‘True, I can’t complain - and yourself?’

‘Oh nothing as dramatic as you Alan, but I also have nothing too much to complain about - at least not so far as my career is concerned. But I heard that you married, then divorced?’

‘Yes that’s also true - sometimes these things just don’t work out.’ I answered noncommittally.

‘I gather your wife was American?’

‘Yes, she was.’

‘Perhaps a little too conservative - at least in some matters? I presume you still have your own special, well shall we say, ‘interest’?’

I doubt I actually blushed, but I certainly felt more than a little uncomfortable at hearing her not only immediately refer to what I still thought of as my secret life, but also that she had done so in such a public place. But luckily, just then the general flow of delegates began returning from their break and as we were taking up the two aisle seats, for the next few minutes we were kept busy making room for those who had to make their way past us. But as what appeared to be the last of them moved through and the speaker got up to stand behind the podium for his address, Vida turned and said. ‘When this session is over why not join me for lunch, then we can properly catch up on what we have both been doing with our lives?’

Even though we had only been sitting beside each other for merely a few short minutes it had been long enough for me to sense at least something of the chemical crackling I had experienced from the very first time we had met - and although I still wasn’t sure whether or not I really wanted to risk stirring up all those long damped down emotions by spending too much time with her, again I chose to answer. ‘That would be nice Vida, thank-you.’

The subject matter raised during the session was as interesting as I had hoped it would be and the sometimes controversial nature of the content kept my mind pretty much occupied for most of the time. Most, but not all! I found that having Vida sitting so close was itself distracting, and that was heightened by the sight of the inch or two of nylon covered flesh above her knees, plus the occasional wafting drift of her perfume.

There were just too many, and most were still far too vivid, memories of her - not just the ever present physical attraction of her, but, in many ways even more importantly, her always more than eager willingness to share in ways of satisfying my unusual weaknesses - to allow me to fully concentrate on what was being explored for one hundred percent of the time.

Then at a much more base-line level I still clearly recalled the thrills she had been able to give while those knees were gripping me, knew how even the most exotic of her perfumes always failed to mask the true, feminine scent of her arousal. And even though I knew it was absolutely impossible to do so in those brightly lit surroundings, the one thing I found myself desperately wanting to do, was to reach across and let my hand slip down between those knees, then let them wander; slowly, but progressively higher.

So, having had those disturbing thoughts rolling around in my head, the prospect of having lunch with her began to seem a rather more attractive prospect than it originally had, and as we stood to leave I reached down for her hand, and said. ‘I don’t know about you, but I would much rather not stay here to eat.’

‘I agree Alan, somewhere quieter would be far preferable.’ she replied with that never fully forgotten corner of the mouth crinkling smile.

A brief call on my mobile phone confirmed that one of my favourite restaurants could take us at such unusually short notice and although we said little during the taxi ride, being more like a pair of teenage lovers than fully matured adults meeting up after an over-long break, we continued to hold each other’s hand all the way there.

Even though Vida had followed something of both my career and at least the more public aspects of my private life, it still took the best part of the time that we needed to enjoy a pre-luncheon drink, then hors d’oeuvres and much of the main course before we had each brought the other reasonably fully up to date with our lives. Of course she had also had lovers, one of them being close in seriousness to that which I had had with my ex-wife, but, whether or not purely coincidentally, she said that at that time, like myself, there was no-one who was particularly so.

‘It would seem that you and I are somehow fated to meet at times like this Alan.’ she added cryptically when she had finished her account.

‘I wonder why that should be.’ I replied.

‘I long ago gave up on either asking or expecting answers to such questions. Life just is - I think that each of us just has to go on living it, whatever may happen to us as a result. But the one thing I think I have learned, is that pleasure and happiness come in very erratically spaced, and very short bursts - and we are exceedingly foolish if we do not make the most of such moments when they occur!’ she added.

‘I would certainly agree with much of that.’ I replied, then - as I was still totally uncertain of her motivation for taking advantage of our purely coincidental meeting - perhaps throwing caution to the winds, added. ‘And have often regretted some of the decisions I have made so far - and that is especially true of the one I made that took me away from you!’

I was relieved to see her smile, and to feel her hand reaching across the table to rest on mine. ‘Sometimes we need to be deprived of something before we truly appreciate just how much it means to us Alan.’ she said.

‘Well that is certainly true of what we had - at least as far as I am concerned.’ I admitted as I gently squeezed her fingers.

‘And I too Alan.’ she replied.

‘So, now that we have both grown a little older, should we take the risk of perhaps tarnishing the memories we each have by seeing if it is possible to resurrect what we had? Or should we, with maturity, accept that that is unlikely, and so leave them unblemished by simply going our own ways again?’ I asked.

She smiled, then like a true bureaucrat, answered. ‘Well if there were three of us we could agree to vote democratically, but as we have nobody to provide the potential tie-breaker, I think all we can do is to give each of us the right to veto the proposition - that is if such an action is required.’

I couldn’t stifle the chuckle that her professional mediator’s answer prompted, then replied in similar vein. ‘Agreed! So, my vote is for at least an attempt at some sort of reconciliation between the two parties.’

‘It would seem that the vote is unanimous!’ she immediately answered.

It may seem rather odd that two people who have been apart for over ten years could agree to try to start off from where they had left off with quite such verbally cold-blooded efficiency - but that is exactly how we did it. Then, within a matter of minutes I had paid the bill, found us a taxi and we were heading, after just a little more discussion as to which of the two places it should be than our agreement to do so had required, for Vida’s apartment.

It was on an upper floor of an obviously tastefully appointed apartment building and from several windows had pleasant views across the outer reaches of the city, but to be frank I don’t think I really noticed anything that time; in spite of my initial uncertainty, from the moment we had agreed to leave the restaurant Vida’s mere presence had captured, and then firmly held, my total attention and interest.

Our first love-making was certainly neither complex nor frenzied; in fact it seemed clear that both of us were steering clear of any of the subtleties we had always previously enjoyed; perhaps at the back of both our minds was the thought -‘if this works, there will be more than enough time to later recreate those’

However, I did find a few things about that first time were being imprinted on my brain. The first was that other than the obvious absence of her long, falling waves of hair, her still tautly curvaceous body had retained virtually all of its previous beauty and desirability. The second was the truly delightful underwear I found she was wearing beneath her business suit; a bra and panty set made from a deep lilac coloured silk. And the third was the fact that the always intensely arousing, fine-pointed arrow-head of pubic hair, had been overgrown! In its place was just what most equally fastidious women had, a still neatly trimmed, but unimaginative triangle.

But the momentary sense of disappointment I felt when I saw that as I slid her panties down, was soon replaced by the sheer blinding excitement I experienced only a few short moments later when her ever-welcoming body took me deep inside herself.

Then, once I had reached my own orgasm I made it very clear that I had no intention of depriving her of any of the thrills I knew she had always been capable of experiencing. Even as I pulled squelchingly back out of her I pushed myself further down the bed, and, so I could more comfortably kneel between them, eased her legs a little further apart, then pressed my head up between her thighs.

‘Ah, mon cher, you are as you always were, a truly considerate lover!’ she sighed as my tongue began flickering slowly around the edges of her still poutingly swollen and wetly dripping pussy.

I stayed there until I knew I had given her at least two more climactic peaks and in the time that took found that the combination of the scent from her sex, plus her ever eager responsiveness had begun re-firing my own. So it then required very little effort on Vida’s part to get my cock back to the rigidity she needed to finalise that coupling by rolling me over on to my back, then vigorously fucking me.

******

Once we were done we lay quietly side-by-side for quite some time; right then I doubt either of us really knew exactly what to say, and in fact may well have been uncertain as to what we actually felt. I know my own brain was whirling with a mix of fully satiated pleasure and briefly flashing memories of things from our past - a mix that was now and then spiced by thoughts of how I might feel if some of those were to be repeated.

Exactly why my mind selected the memories that it did remained a mystery - the one or two main events had perhaps been recalled for their sheer erotically charged content, but others were simply puzzling.

High on that second list was the morning Vida had first taken me shopping, shopping for things for me, for Alana. Of course we were not the only couple to be visiting the particular lingerie shop Vida preferred, and I, apparently like the two or three other men there, merely stood as a bystander while the women we were accompanying picked this and that from the racks of delicate flimsies on display.

Vida was obviously in no rush to make her selection for me and picked up and discarded many very pretty items, but then she spotted something hanging on a particular display and without further to do flipped through them until she found the correct size. ‘I think these will be perfect.’ she said, holding up a camisole, bra and panty set made from a blush-pink coloured silk.

The one thing I noticed was that the panties were quite unlike any that I normally bought for myself - which tended to be both close-fitting and lacily see-through. These were cut in what I thought of as the ‘French’ style; wide-legged and with only a narrow strip of lace decoration highlighting the centre panel, the sides and edges of the, at least by comparison with what I normally wore, roomy, leg parts.

However, I thought, if that was what Vida wanted to see me wearing, who was I to complain!

I even recalled the considerate question from the assistant when Vida went to pay for them, asking if she was aware that these particular garments might not be the correct size for her - and Vida’s instantaneous response that, they were in fact for her sister.

Then my memory flash took me to the time, some few short hours later, when Vida helped to dress me in just the panties and camisole - ‘We’ll keep the bra for one of those evenings when Alana fully joins us Alan.’ she’d explained.

Of course just knowing something of what we were going to be doing together had already begun to give me at least the start of an erection, and understanding that response she undressed me with an unusually speedy urgency, slipping the panties up over my legs, then dropping the camisole down over my head and arms, before standing back to look at me.

‘Ah yes!’ she said in low, husky whisper. ‘That looks very, very nice. Let’s see what you think.’ she added, turning me around to face the mirror on the door of her wardrobe closet.

If she meant what I’d thought she did, I could see exactly what it was that had pleased and stirred her - my cock, although still neither fully grown nor hardened, was big and stiff enough to be clearly outlined as it pressed itself against the thin silk of one leg of the panties. And, for me, the still subtle but nonetheless distinct friction of that pressure was creating even greater pleasure!

It was only then, as I recalled that flash-back, that I recalled another, much earlier time - a time when she had done her best to explain why she found my practice of cross-dressing exciting for herself.

‘It’s partly the ambiguity Alan - I mean the sexual ambiguity. Although, like yourself, I have never been sexually attracted to members of my own sex, unlike you, I am not so blind that I can’t see the beauty and potentially physical attraction inherent in their form. And of course I can well understand that presentation enhances even those with less than perfect versions of whatever shape and size happens to be fashionable at any given time.

But much more importantly, the men I always find myself attracted to are those who have, and are capable of allowing others to see, not only a strongly ‘male’ personality, but also a definite ‘female’ streak. That is probably why I was initially attracted to the man who in fact later turned out to be fully bi-sexual.’ She had added before continuing. ‘The first time I heard you speak at one of those interminable committee meetings I heard something in both your language and tone of voice that alerted me that you might be such a man. And of course the very first time we made love I discovered that I had been at least partially right - you quickly proved yourself to be both a caring and also extremely skilful lover my dear. So when I then accidentally discovered this other aspect of your personality it was like hitting the jack-pot!’

And as I had stood there, staring at the reflection of myself in her mirror, I had for the very first time understood at least just a little of what she had meant. The still growing size of my cock all-too proudly announced my potent masculinity, but the mere fact that I was obviously also comfortable in wearing the sexily pretty things that shrouded it hinted that somewhere deep inside me there lurked at least something of a feminine persona.

But then, once she had fully satisfied herself in teasingly stroking and caressing the increasingly violently throbbing length, and in the process seemed to be trying to test the actual breaking-point of the silk, we went to bed and used the thing she had turned it into for at least the first part of what it had originally been evolved for.

All those, and many other, much briefer memories went flashing through my head as I lay there beside her still recovering body - and as the kaleidoscope finally came to an end I knew one thing for sure, I wanted Vida as much as I ever had. But what I probably really didn’t fully understand, even then, was that something deep down inside me was saying that after the more than ten years of never fully resolved sexual tension, by then I not only wanted her, but that part of me that was ‘Alana’, actually needed her!

She stirred as I got up to take a piss and give myself a bit of a wash, then followed me into the bathroom. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have a spare robe for you Alan, I haven’t been in the habit of having men stay over.’ she said when she saw I’d had to hook a towel around myself.

‘Well I’m surprised - but not sorry to hear that.’ I said, giving her a quick, passing kiss, then adding. ‘Coffee, or tea?’