Fenellas Feelings Flip

Everybody in this story is over eighteen. You should be too! Perhaps it will only make real sense if you have already read 'Fenella's Feelings' – an 'exhibitionist' story.

Fenella takes up her own story:-

My experience in the shoe-store, when the original, male, assistant wasn't around, and a pretty young girl helped me try on a pair of high-heeled, sexy boots, had got me thinking. I believe I mentioned that I thought there were 'avenues to explore.' Ever since I had discovered the sheer joy of going without panties, my shaven pussy feeling the breeze wafting round it, I had undergone a change. Then I had discovered many more pleasures, the joy of exhibiting the body I'm blessed with to the legal maximum, and watching its effect on those around me, then the less-easily-explained excitement I derived from sometimes wearing a very tight, restrictive skirt, or even a whale-boned corset, and uncomfortably high heels, or dangling jewellery. I had gone to the extreme of having a ring fitted into my clitoris-hood, and, now that the soreness had gone, its presence was a constant reminder of my sexuality. I thought it might be nice to dangle a little charm from it, but found, after one day, that I could concentrate on almost nothing else, so reluctantly abandoned it for the time being.

I digress. Back to the pretty girl in the shoe-store. I had never been with a woman, nor even contemplated doing so. James was not only a good provider (although I earned a good salary myself) he was a loving, attentive husband, and a very good fuck indeed. If I ever felt the need, neighbour Gareth, and George, my boss, were there with their tongues hanging out. I was not particularly moral in my attitudes, I know, but you only live once, and, anyway, I knew that James was not above shagging his secretary anyway. (In his shoes, I would have done the same thing – she was sensational)

Here I go, digressing again. I left the shoe-store and walked twice around the block. The girl's blue eyes had immensely long lashes, and she had long, pianist's fingers, with immaculate, long nails, painted bright pink. I couldn't help noticing a very odd feature indeed. She's had the little fingernail of her left hand drilled and a tiny ring fitted. From it, a delicate silver chain looped to a ring on the same finger. It must have got in her way when she was working. I could have kicked myself for not asking her about it. I wanted one fitted. It's funny how little things like that stick in your mind.

I went back to the shoe-store, and sought out the same girl. I had to hang around picking up shoes and putting them down again while she finished with another customer. Then I said to her, probably a bit nervously, 'I'd like to try those boots on again, I think I've changed my mind.'

She smiled, so prettily, tossed her blonde hair back and went to fetch them, leaving me sitting on a bench in the corner of the store. She was soon back, kneeling in front of me. As she took out the boots, I asked her about her nail-decoration, and she flushed.

'Oh, that!' she said, 'I just like things.......things that....er dangle, you know.'

'Yes, I know,' I said, 'I think it's very pretty. What's your name?'

'Karen,' she said, a little uncertainly.

'Mine's Fenella,' I said, 'after I've tried the boots, perhaps you'll tell me where I can get my nail done like that?'

'Of course,' she said.

I tried on the boots again, enjoying the feel of Karen's hands smoothing the fine leather up my legs, and announced that I'd take them. While I was paying she rummaged in her bag under the counter, but looked up, distressed.

'I'm sorry, Fenella, I can't find the card. But if you want me to take you to the shop tomorrow evening, I can do – they stay open late on Wednesdays.'

I arranged to meet my new friend next evening at seven, and told her I'd take her for a bite to eat afterwards. She looked like a cat who'd got the cream.

Next day, I took more than usual care about my dress. The weather was warm, and I thought I'd wear a summer dress. My colouring deserved white, and that's what it got. I chose a short, full-skirted silky dress, about mid-thigh length, the bodice giving a 'gathered' effect, showing a fair bit of cleavage. I pondered for a while whether to wear stockings, but it felt warm already when I was dressing, at eight in the morning, so I wore nothing at all except for my favourite silver stilettos. I put on a narrow gold choker, a pair of long matching pendant ear-rings and an ankle-chain. I was unaccountably nervous all day in the office, not even really appreciating the several hungry eyes that followed me around the corridors. The time came slowly around to seven o'clock, when I had arranged to meet Karen, just around the corner from her shop, and, sure enough, there she was, though I failed to recognise her at first. I had only seen her in the unbecoming blue overall of the shoe-store, and was unprepared for her breathtaking beauty. She had gone to infinite care with her honey-blonde hair, which she wore in an intricate style, caught up at the back with a black velvet ribbon. Long, heavy, silver pendants dangled from her ear-lobes. She wore a black mini-dress, rather shorter than mine, deeply cut out at the back, so that she can have been wearing no bra. She was bare-legged, like myself, and. also like me, had chosen to wear high heels, though hers were black patent. All this, I took in as I approached her from behind, before she was aware of my presence.

'Been waiting long?' I asked.

She whisked around in surprise, 'Oh no!' she said, then, looking at me, giggled.

'What's funny?' I wanted to know.

'We look like two chess-pieces,' she said, 'you know, black and white.'

'Black's move first!' I said, and could have kicked myself.

'I don't know why I said that,' I said, and realised I had probably turned a little pink.

She reached for my hand and squeezed it, 'It's alright,' was all she said, but there was an undercurrent between us now, a sexual connection that I sensed was going to have to be attended to.

We got into a taxi at the rank, and held hands again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The hand I held was the one with the drilled nail, and I turned it over and looked at it.

'It really is lovely,' I said, for want of something to say, 'and I love your ear-rings too.'

'I said I like dangly things,' she said, and it was then that I noticed, for the first time, that she had a silver tongue stud. I mentioned it.

'Oh, that!' she said, 'I had that done a long time ago. Do you like it?'

I did, and was seized with an almost irresistible urge to kiss her, to feel the stud against my own tongue, but looked into her baby-blue eyes and weakly said, 'Yes, Karen, I think it's lovely.'

My palms were sweaty as we reached our destination, rather trendy boutique in a good part of town.

I soon found out that what I had naïvely thought to be Karen's own nails were, of course, polymer false nails, but what the hell? I soon spent silly money on two sets of nails, which they fixed for me there and then, and had the left pinky one drilled, just like Karen's, with a chain looped around to a silver ring. I knew it would get in the way all the time, but would also be eye-catching. I bought a tiny drill, and a couple of tiny charms, so that I could fit other decorations in the future. Then I used my credit card to buy Karen an extra set of nails that she needed, despite her protests.

We had spent over an hour at the shop, and were getting hungry, so, as we were in a good area, I suggested we take in a wine-bar, and Karen happily agreed.

When we entered the fairly busy, trendy place, heads turned, and I realised we looked good, but probably excited some comment, as we were still holding hands, as we had done all evening.

'Smoking, or no smoking?' asked the girl.

'No smoking,' I said, automatically, then turned to Karen and apologised.

'It's OK,' she smiled, 'I don't!'

We were sat in a cosy, dimly-lit alcove, and ordered Caesar salad, lasagne and a bottle of Lambrusco. We ate and silence, enjoying the food, then sat with our wine.

'Well,' she said, 'do you like your new decoration?'

'Oh yes!' I said, and our knees touched under the table. I wanted desperately, so desperately, for it to be deliberate. I moved my knee out of range, slightly, and there it was again, her knee brushed against mine. This time, I left my knee where it was, and her knee brushed mine with smooth certainty, and an unmistakeable pressure. She was smiling, and....and, yes, her tongue, with its arcane silver stud, slid out to moisten her lips. I knew some gesture in return was now called for, and, putting my hand under the table, felt for the knee that was against mine. Its smooth flesh felt lovely under my hand, and I stroked it gently, watching Karen's eyes. We had still never spoken a word beyond social graces.

Now

her

hand disappeared under the table, and I felt its coolness on my knee. But she was bolder, and her hand slid up my thigh, pushing up the silky hem of my dress. I slid lower in my seat, and my legs had a mind of their own as they parted to allow her to gain access to my naked, shaven pussy.

'Karen, we shouldn't, darling,' I managed to say, in a shaky voice, 'not here!'

'But you're soaking!' she whispered, and withdrew her hand, having done no more than run it around my pussy-lips.

'Is there somewhere we can go?' I heard myself ask.

'We can go to my flat – it's not far,' she said.

I paid with my credit card, in a kind of daze, and let Karen call a cab while I went and looked searchingly at myself in the ladies' room mirror. I looked back, seemingly the same old Fenella, so I fiddled about with my make-up, and tried not to think about what I was doing.

When I got out to the front of the wine-bar, Karen pressed my hand, and said prosaically, 'taxi won't be a minute.' It wasn't, and five minutes later we pulled up outside a newish block of flats, and Karen opened the front door with her key. We rode up to the fourth floor, and I found myself in her one-bedroomed apartment. I looked around. It was neat and clean, Monet prints on the wall, lots of artificial flowers and sweet smelling pot-pourri, medium-range furniture with lots of cushions and a home-gym in one corner.

'Like a drink?' asked Karen, as she closed the damask curtains over the big window, but I was right behind her, and taking hold of her arm, turned her to face me, and said, 'Later, perhaps!' I needed to taste her lips, to see what it was like to kiss a woman for the very first time, and I crushed my lips to hers, feeling her instant, urgent response, as her tongue darted into my mouth, the stud near its tip seeking out my own tongue, probing around the roof of my mouth, passionately wanting me. Her body moulded against mine, and I knew then that our kiss was no more than an overture, that I had to explore her body, know the joy of having her know every inch of mine.

'I've never kissed a woman before, Karen,' I told her, 'never!'

'I hope it will have been worth waiting for,' she said, then, 'sit down on the sofa, while I put some music on.'

I made no protest, and she put a Lionel Ritchie CD on the player, which I thought slightly odd for someone so young. I wondered if she wanted me to dance, but she motioned me to stay where I was, and started to gyrate slowly in front of me. It was the most sensual dance I had ever seen in my life. She ran her hands up and down her slim body, now pushing the hem of her dress up to her waist so that I had a glimpse of black lace panties, now outside her dress, tracing the curves of her body. After what seemed an age, she reached under the hem of her dress, and started to ease the panties down over her hips, slowly, painfully slowly, then down, down, until she had them around her knees, her calves, her ankles, then kicked them off her shoes into my lap. I buried my face in them, tasting her musky perfume. I was hot, and soaking wet.

She pushed the dress down from her shoulders, again teasing me with the slowness of actions. I wanted to see her breasts, the firm sharpness of which I had felt pushed against me, and she now caressed them under the material of her dress, before finally pushing the black material down, over her hips, and letting it fall to the floor.

'Karen, you're magnificent!' I said, and meant it. She had small, almost adolescent-looking, pointed breasts, with puffy nipples, just asking to be sucked and played with. They were not, in fact, that much smaller than my own. She had a pierced navel, from which hung a double chain at least four inches long, with stones at the ends, and her pussy, like mine, was clean-shaven, but whereas I had a ring through my clit-hood, she had a tattoo – a mermaid curling around her upper thigh.

'Come to the bedroom now, darling,' she said, 'and let me undress you.'

Meekly, my knees trembling, I got to my feet, and let hr lead me by the hand to her neat bedroom, which sported a double bed, crisp white linen sheets, already turned back. It crossed my mind that she had anticipated my visit.

She kissed me again, and as she did so, I fondle her tits, loving the firm, spiky touch of her nipples. She groaned from the back off her throat, and reached behind my neck, unfastening and unzipping my dress. She pulled it impatiently off my shoulders, and let it fall in a whisper of silk to the floor around my stilettos. I was naked but for my gold choker, ear-rings and anklet.

Karen stepped back a pace to look at me.

'I've wanted to see you like this ever since I first saw you, Fenella,' she said, 'and that's long before you first saw me!'

I felt more nervous then, than on my first time with a boy, way back when I was, I suppose, about fifteen, and Karen could see I was shaking as she led me to her bed.

'It really

is

your first time, darling, isn't it?' she said, 'just lay back and let me show you!'

Obediently, I swung my legs up onto the bed, and Karen got up beside me, prising my legs apart, though I needed little encouragement.

'My, you're so wet,' she said, as she felt my pussy, and I gradually relaxed letting my legs fall wide apart.

'That's better,' she said, and I felt two fingers go deep into my sopping cunt. Then her lovely blonde head went down between my legs, and there was a slurping noise as she lapped me, tongued me with all her youthful vigour, driving her tongue deep into my cunt at each stroke. When she could tell I was on the verge of cumming, as I writhed and bucked and moaned, she quite suddenly bit my clitoris hard, pulling the hood aside by its ring, and I came in a huge and glorious flood.

'God, you squirted!' she said, 'that's tremendous! Now it's my turn, darling.'

'Wait just a moment,' I told her, and needed to come down for just a few beats, but she was not to be denied for long, and was soon rubbing the length of her gorgeous young body up and down mine, so that I was desperate to explore her neat pink pussy.

Unlike me, she opened her legs wide at the outset, and putting a hand between her legs, displayed her cunt for me by stretching her labia wide with two fingers. I immediately plunged my tongue as deep as it would go, and she thrashed about as If she had been whipped. With my fingers I pinched her clit, and she moaned, an animal sound, as I lapped her, and again thrust my tongue deep into her sweet fuckhole. When I felt her breathing quicken and knew her orgasm was about to explode, I rammed a finger hard up her arsehole, and he screamed as the climax hit her. And I had another orgasm, at the same time, for Christ's sake.

When we had both just about recovered, I said, 'That drink wouldn't go amiss now, darling!'

We sat naked and drank Scotch, and Karen said, 'I must say you're not bad for a first-timer!'

'You sound like you're a confirmed Lesbian,' I said, fishing.

'I don't go with men,' she said, 'and you're not the first, but I'm particular.'

I left it at that for then, and we arranged to meet again three days later, on Saturday, as Karen had a rare Saturday off, and I knew James wouldn't mind me disappearing with the car, as he was playing rugby, and would be out all day.

James was, in fact, a lamb, and didn't seem to notice my late arrival home, or make any comment next morning at my muttered excuse about the 'office do' that 'went on a bit.'

We made love – no, correct that, he fucked me – a couple of times before the weekend. Although my juices ran, genuinely enough, at least on one of those occasions, my mind was elsewhere, an image of Karen's perfect young body and her sweet pink pussy, as she writhed beneath me, bringing me to my climax.

'Penny for 'em?' said James as I sat cradling a coffee cup, on that Friday morning.

'You'd be wasting your money,' I lied, 'I was wondering what I might get for dinner.'

The fact was, my mind was in turmoil, and more than once, at work, I caught myself speculating about Dana, a new recruit to the typing pool. She was a leggy Eurasian, scarcely turned twenty, with a long, silken mane of black hair, which came almost precisely to the hem of the tight little miniskirts she wore. She had a tiny diamond glinting at the side of her aristocratic nose, and smiled shyly, showing a row of even, white teeth. What was it with me? For the adult part of my twenty-eight years, I had never countenanced the thought of touching another woman, not even during my schooldays either, when I knew that some of my friends had tried out 'little experiments.' Then suddenly I had discovered the joys of exhibitionism, finding pleasure in showing off my body – but what had led to this.......this sudden urge?

But then, was it so sudden? If I thought back a bit, I remembered last year's Christmas dance at James' firm, when I'd first suspected he was screwing Tania, his secretary – hadn't I been attracted to her myself, if I really explored my feelings? Shit, this was all a bit deep.

Saturday came around, and I slipped into a summer dress, a cool, halter-neck cotton print job, showing a good deal of leg. I drove around to Karen's in the BMW, and tooted. My heart leapt as she skipped down the few steps from her block – she looked heavenly in a sixties-style silk skirt, with stiff petticoats underneath, and a tight tank-top, through which the shape of her sharp little breasts could be seen perfectly. She hopped in beside me, and we compared left little fingers to show each other that we had our decorations in place. I turned to kiss her, and electricity coursed through my body in a way nobody else had ever made it happen.

'Oh Karen, darling,' I said, 'I want to fuck you, eat your pussy, right now!'

'Me too,' she said, 'but it will be all the more delicious for waiting, won't it?'

My skirt had ridden up, and as we drove out of town, Karen stroked my leg, and said, 'Don't you mind people seeing so much of you – from lorries and things, I mean?'

'No, darling,' I said, 'it turns me on, in fact.'

'I suppose that's why I saw your pussy in the shop?'

I smiled, 'I've become an exhibitionist, Karen, but since I met you, well, I don't know what's happened to me, I really don't!'

'Don't fight it,' she said, then sat quietly, stroking my leg gently. I noticed with amusement that she, too, hitched the hem of her short skirt up a little, not to be outdone, and paid more attention to passing vehicles. Finally, she asked me where I was taking her.

'Thought you'd never ask,' I said, 'I thought we might go to the Greenstone Centre. There's something I've seen there that I'd like to buy you.'

It was a huge, out-of-town shopping centre, with lots of 'discount outlets.'

We parked on the huge lot, and I led her to an enormous textile store, where I made straight for the bed-linen department. Half-heartedly she protested, when I bought her a set of black satin sheets and pillowcases, but she was thrilled, never having owned anything so luxurious.