Where do I start with this one? Perhaps a bit of background would help, but not too much, as I know you want to get to the 'good bits' and, to be honest, so do I.
My name is Zara and I'm married to a quite gorgeous girl called Ffion. Yup, we are a lesbian married couple and both proud and happy with that status. On top of that, we both have very strong sex drives and revel in each other's bodies, often!
We each have interesting jobs that take us overseas on a regular basis and we really miss each other when we travel, relying on phone sex and even skype so we can masturbate together – it's good, but not great. Enough background? I thought so ...
Not so long ago, we realised that Ffion was going to be away for a week, and we would just miss each other at the airport as I was due to fly out to some far eastern country on the day she returned. Two weeks without each other. What to do?
Ffion is probably sexually more confident than I am, and in a post-orgasmic haze, she quietly suggests a way to keep ourselves going until we are back together again. If we hadn't just had an hour of exhausting, passionate lovemaking, I would probably have lost my temper at the idea and stormed out of the room, but I listen quietly, and my bodily responses suggest it's too good an opportunity to miss.
"Are we completely confident in our relationship and do we fully trust each other?" she challenges.
"Of course – you don't need to ask," I snap back.
"Well why don't we push the boundaries a bit and have some fun?"
"Go on ..."
Ffion then goes on to outline her naughty, dirty plan with no detail left out. Firstly, when she goes away, I am to go out to a pub on Saturday night, pick up a girl I fancy and see what happens. In the spirit of openness, I will give Ffion a blow-by-blow account of what happens when we chat on the Sunday via skype so we can share the experience. She will then do the same when I go away.
Pushing the boundaries? This is well out of my comfort zone, and I am expected to 'go first'. I stay silent for a long time.
"OK," I say, "but I reserve the right to opt out if it gets too much."
"Agreed."
And so it is. Ffion catches a taxi to the airport on Thursday giving me two full days before Saturday night with my mind in turmoil over what is expected of me and what I am about to do.
Zara's story ...
I wake on Saturday morning with my heart pounding and my poor brain in overdrive switching between sheer panic and hyper-horniness. I spend the whole day in preparation – can you believe it takes that long? Washing my hair, painting my nails and toenails, shaving my quivering legs, armpits and pussy and trying on outfit after outfit.
I'm a slight girl, boyish you might say, but when I try, I polish up well and in the right clothes, I can make the most of what I have. So finally, I settle on my most gorgeous see-through lace knickers, a very short black leather skirt, a tight tee shirt with no bra – my nipples make up for my smaller boobs – a simple fluffy jumper that can come off if I get too hot, and fairly high heels to show off what I have been told are stunning legs.
So at last, it's time to go out. I put a coat over my naughty outfit, head for the nearest pub that I believe is an attraction for like-minded girls as Ffion and I have both been there to eye up the local talent. My legs are trembling, and my instinct is to turn around, dive back into our flat, and make up some story to tell Ffion. The devil on my shoulder tells me to stop being a wimp and get on with it.
Head held high ... ish ... I walk into the bar, order a Tuscan, (you know, the old tuaca, lime and ginger ale with lots of ice kick, yum!), and find a corner table where I can watch the goings on. Halfway through my second, I spot her. OMG. I can't do this – she's gorgeous. Brunette, tall, her tight clothes setting off a stunning body and a pair of eyes that pierce right through me. I look away and study my fingernails in the time-honoured manner.
"Hi, I'm Liz."
"Of course you are," I say, missing the point completely because of my nerves, "and so am I."
"No, silly, Liz, and you are?"
I look up and I'm enslaved. This stunning confident woman, perhaps five years older than me is already sitting down and we start to talk. Cutting to the chase, a chase that has clearly already started and been won in moments by the delicious Liz, the talk doesn't last too long and we down the remains of our drinks and head for the door.
Words seem unnecessary and we find ourselves back at my flat, no, our flat, Ffion and my flat, my wife and my flat, with a girl who I am not married to but I have full permission to have coffee with. Fuck the coffee. Thank goodness I put clean sheets on the bed and tidied away the detritus of my many rejected outfits earlier in the day. I'm trembling with nerves.
We stand facing each other and once again, words are superfluous. Ffion was my lesbian mentor and took control early on to teach me how to handle a woman and Liz is clearly quite dominant and so I happily just follow her lead.
Her eyes drill into mine as we stand facing each other.
"Just do as I say," she says firmly but gently. I swallow hard and nod.
"I want you to undress slowly, but look into my eyes all the time as you do."
I comply by taking off my shoes first, then my skirt and then stop. This is too scary. There's no going back if I keep going. I keep going.
"The tee next," she says and I am unable to do anything but comply. I'm now standing in my see-through knickers and nothing else. Her breathing has got heavier and I can see she's aroused – my confidence increases as she is clearly enjoying my nakedness and is staring at my nipples, pebbled in their arousal.
Without saying another word, she sinks to her knees and, reaching out, she slowly pulls down my now damp knickers and I step out of them, leaving her to put her hands on my bum and pull my sex onto her face where she buries her nose between my thighs and breathes in the rich aroma that now fills the room.
