The Start
An 'arty' Bistro in Clifton, a rooftop lounge, a hearty meal and several glasses of vino lubricated the tongues at our recent gathering. Celeste, a graphics illustrator took the floor. As you can imagine, we were all absolutely disgusted at the tale she told us.
I've lived in this area for years. I graduated from the "Slade" in '59 and came down here to Clifton, there was quite a clique of artists in the area all living the arty life, half the time starving, half the time drunk, smoking a bit of weed at times for effect.
I was as they say, 'of independent means' which meant in my case, mummy and daddy had money, I won't say much about that, it's so vulgar don't you think? We all giggled, never having had to worry about the 'vulgarity' of wealth.
I lived to the same standard as the rest of the clique, but I was in the position of not having to worry about the rent, or where the next meal came from, and I did look after my friends, I always had money for food.
Most of us were horny, getting satisfaction where we could, but mainly from within the clique, it didn't matter much who satisfied who, girl or boy, we felt very decadent. I preferred boys, but as they say any port in a storm, and let's be fair, I did enjoy a storm.
My studio, well small flat , calling it a studio gave it a status it far from that which it deserved, was at a stretch adequate and to be honest I did some of my most creative work in that studio.
Life in the area was very like village life, familiar faces, familiar shops, even an early supermarket, not like supermarkets today, you even got to know the staff, and they got to know you.
I had the urge, what do they call it now a days, the hots, for Brian, he always called me madam, he was sweet, always helpful, always polite and oh so good looking. I said about satisfaction from friends, I can't hope to tell you the number of times that satisfaction at the hands of a girlfriend was enhanced by Brian in my head to give a boost to my cumming.
I had to have this boy. I call him a boy, he was in his early twenties, Me? At the time I was in my thirties, you don't need that detail, just to know I was besotted with him. No, really, I mean, my life depended on it, I had to have him. I am sure you know what I mean girls, we get those fixations don't we? Well I did; there was only one way to scratch my itch and only one person to scratch it.
My favourite garment at that time was a kaftan, and as you will remember girls a kaftan can hide a lot of sins. You could be totally covered by a Kaftan and yet be totally naked under it. Totally modestly covered yet....
I decided that I wanted to do some male nude studies, it had followed on from an inebriated discussion and I saw the opportunities.
Thursday morning, rolled out of bed, no milk for coffee, fuck it! Mules, fingers through my hair, Kaftan on, bright summer morning, a little draft whispering around my whiskery pie, into the supermarket. Might just see 'him'
"Morning Brian!"
It was beginning to feel like a damp morning and that at just a sight of him.
"Morning madam. Like the kaftan, suits you!"
My heart was all aflutter,
"Milk?"
"Usual place, I'll get you..."
"Its ok, I'll get it." I bent, knowing that standing before me as he was he would be he would have a good view down my front. My tits standing free, nipples erect,
He smiled. It was all I could do not to faint. I knew he had seen.
"Cornflakes, I am starving."
"Me too," he winked "On the bottom shelf next aisle over."
The store was deserted this early, the cashier on the till at the front of the store, just the two of us on the shop floor.
"Be a dear, get them for me?"
"Of course madam."
We moved to the aisle, he stooped to the bottom shelf and handed the packet to me as I stooped to join him making sure I showed him the moistening treasure between my thighs.
Again that smile.
"The staff of life?"
He raised his right eyebrow quizzically with a very cheeky grin.
"Bread...you know a small loaf."
"You only want a small one?" he winked.
"Well, big enough."
"We only have the very large ones left from yesterday, the bakery hasn't delivered yet."
"Damn."
"Sorry, they should have delivered an hour ago."
"Oh, I suppose it doesn't matter, I will manage somehow."
"I pass your house on the way home; if you need I could drop a loaf in if you like?"
"This evening? What time do you pass?"
"Your lucky day, you don't have to starve till then, I finish at one o'clock today."
"One o'cock did you say?" I couldn't resist responding to his flirting.
"No madam, O'cLock!"
"Well if you are going to call at lunch time, bring the small loaf, and a French stick, I have some wine and we can lunch together."
"That sounds very tempting, but should I be so familiar with a customer?"
"Just remember to ring the right doorbell, don't want to disturb the other residents and my studio is on the top floor."
"But I don't know your name."
I left him in the aisle, and I drifted with my moist pussy toward the checkout. Leaving the store I turned, he was tidying the shopping baskets...I gave a smile and called...
"Celeste."
He disappeared into the store while I went off up the hill toward my studio, my mind racing, would he arrive with the bread, would he share with me, could I work things to suit my desires, I was like a virgin on a first date, and me, someone who could usually get someone into my knickers with no problem at all. But he was a boy. At least five years younger than me, maybe more. He was always respectful, but he did flirt, sometimes outrageously.
Oh my god, I was going to be alone with him...if he turned up...and in private too. All the other times we had spoken we had been in public, or at least in a place where there was the 'protection' of other people...suppose I have been misreading the signs, maybe he was just being cheeky, maybe he wasn't flirting, maybe he wouldn't want there to be anything else with an 'old' woman like me.
I made myself a coffee and sat, resolved to calming myself and reassuring myself that he wouldn't have offered if he hadn't wanted to, certainly he wasn't coerced.
I stripped as my bath was running, the breeze from the open balcony door raising goose bumps on my exposed skin. Then on to choosing the sexiest practical garments to dress in after the bath.
I luxuriated beneath the bubbles, I was so excited it was impossible to keep my hands to myself...no, that's wrong. I could keep my hands to myself, I just couldn't keep them off my... you know.
The silky smooth soapy water, with the with the support of my wet hands caressing my breasts, the nipples of course erect and tingly as I flicked over them, the sensation as I am sure you can imagine was incredible, obviously, the sensations in my nipple, as it does, did not remain in the nipples, and gradually a sensation was developing in the forested area below my navel if you get my drift.
Talking of drift, my hand drifted toward the newly developing sensation, it needed a little tickle to get things moving, and get moving it did. I was in heaven, lying there in the warm bath, one hand at my bosom (tits to you) maintaining the glorious sensations in my nipples, the other guiding my clit toward a fantastic orgasm.
Suddenly came to my senses, it was twelve thirty, heck, great as my sexual bathing was, I needed to complete my toilette, and get dressed up for my "delivery".
I didn't usually dress up when I was working at home, which was always as home was my studio, today was going to be different...I hoped. So what was it to be?
Short sleeve quite saucy chiffon blouse, stockings, suspenders, French knickers, a light nylon brassier in white for purity...sort of, and a wide dirndl skirt. My tits were still quite perky, didn't sag very much and I didn't want to conceal my very suckable nipples, a girl can live in the hopes that she will be able to enjoy her assets.
I had just completed, and was primping the last strands of my blonde hair into place, isn't it amazing the way your hair can be perfectly behaved except when you are in a rush and its important, when it goes which ever which way, when the door bell trilled startlingly. My heart lept, my nipples re erected, and I felt a thrill down below.
I left the flat door just on the latch as I sped down to the block door, I think I touched each stair as I went, but that is by no means guaranteed, I may have missed any number.
Arriving at the door, I paused, I had to compose myself, be nonchalant, I wanted this boy, but I didn't want to appear over eager...even though I was...for him. Let's face it, I could get nookie any time, but I was so in need of 'him' I could cry. Sounds pathetic doesn't it?
