Into the Fire

"That wouldn't do for you at all!"

Steph jumped as a hand reached out and pulled the red and black corset from her hand.

"That's tawdry. You're way too classy for that!" the girl repeated.

Steph turned to see the critic. A tall, elegantly pretty girl stood beside her. A gamine face, tip tilted nose, a wide mobile mouth and very large blue eyes smiled merrily at her.

Taking Steph's hand, the girl pulled her to the back of the store where a rack of more muted yet lovely bustiers hung.

The store was a rich tapestry of colour, scent and materials. Silk and lace, brushed cotton and satin melded in a swath of colours and textures, intriguing, seductive and utterly feminine. This was not a man's store – any man entering would be awkward, out of place, hyper aware that this was the bailiwick of soft skin, melting eyes and femininity.

Despite her innate sensuality, Steph was at heart shy and tentative. Within her own element, with the confidence engendered by familiarity with her long-time love, she was able to relax enough to explore her sexuality to a very limited extent. Her husband was somewhat of a plebian sensualist – a bit caveman like in terms of taking his own pleasure and he adored the trappings of spurious sensuality – the wisps of underwear, the plunging bras and stockings and garters – and indulged his secret vice by supplying her with what he perceived as erotic and enticing.

Steph, however, sometimes felt uncomfortable in his choices that inevitably reflected a burlesque sense of erotica – crimson reds with vulgar lace, peek-a-boo bras and crotchless panties. She felt as if she were putting on a very bad show, one that she didn't quite believe in, and despite her best efforts to enjoy, always had a sense of donning a persona that didn't reflect who she was.

She had walked by this store many times and with furtive, shy eyes yearned after the lovely undergarments displayed in a very attractive window display. Finally, building up her courage, she entered.

Now, swept along by this lovely girl, she was tugged to the rack.

"Now, let me see," the girl said and standing back, gazed at Steph consideringly.

At 5'4", Steph was short waisted but had long lovely legs and a figure she sometimes felt was too curvy. Bountiful was how her husband described her large, heavy breasts with their sensitive dark brown nipples, a small waist sweeping out to full curving hips and a lovely firm and full ass. Her dark hair complemented her smooth olive skin and dark, almost black eyes.

Turning to the rack, the girl started to go through the plethora of bustiers and corsets. Pausing, the girl again eyed Steph consideringly, turning her around to see the entire figure. Then, to Steph's shocked surprise, the girl suddenly reached out and briskly cupped a heavy breast, squeezing it just slightly, weighing its heavy warm weight in her hand.

"About a 36DD, I would say," the girl said considering, as if cupping a stranger's breast was commonplace.

"Hang on, we have that," she said approvingly, turning to the rack and rummaging through the selection. A few minutes later, she gave a small cry and pulled out a very lovely bustier. A muted gold corset, gauzy material crisscrossed with dark laces, a barely there bust and a sweet line which would sweep down in front, up at the hips and thence to tie in the back, it was quite breathtaking. A rather complicated construction of straps was somewhat confusing to Steph's inexperienced eye.

Steph looked at it longingly, but thought, sighing, Mario wouldn't find it too intriguing.

"Excuse me," she began, a little tremulously.

"Oh, silly me! I haven't even introduced myself!" the girls said laughing.

"I'm Gabrielle. You are just the prettiest thing and I've seen you walk by here the last few days. I could tell you wanted to come in here but were too shy!"

"Do you work here?" Steph asked.

"It's my shop." Gabrielle said.

"When I saw you looking at that other stuff – what we call "Halloween" junk, I had to step in. You're far too pretty to put on that crap! That's for the drag queens."

"Here, try this on – you'll see what I mean," Gabrielle said.

Steph rather felt as if she had been hit by a cyclone. She had planned on telling Gabrielle the corset was a "no go" but the girl suddenly grabbed Steph's hand in her own strong, warm grasp, tugging her to the change rooms. Pulling open a curtain, she hustled the other girl in, handing her the bustier and then standing expectantly.

"Well, put it on!" she said. "I can guarantee it will look great!"

Steph gathered up her tattered rationale.

"Umm, I need to close the curtain," she pointed out.

Gabrielle, laughing, complied, stepping back slightly and allowing Steph to pull the curtain over.

Inside the cubicle, Steph stood for a moment looking at the corset, then decided it was indeed lovely and actually something she would have chosen for herself. She had been looking at the others because they in fact reflected her husband's concept of sexy.

Unbuttoning her blouse, she peeled it off, her heavy breasts in their serviceable bra well constrained. Stepping out of her skirt, she hung both items carefully on the hangers that hung against the wall. Turning to the mirror, she studied herself critically. Pinching her hip, she sighed, wishing she had narrow hips like that pretty girl outside. Even in the workaday bra, her breasts were bountiful, swelling up into a deep cleavage, shadowed and sweet, smooth olive skin, lightly dusted with a sprinkling of tiny brown freckles. Her stomach was flat, the belly button recessed.

Holding the corset she tried to figure out how it worked. Unhooking the narrow ribbons that ran up the boned back, she awkwardly pulled it on. Reaching behind, she was able to pull the strings so the corset tightened at the waist, but it still looked awkward and the top half gaped. Looking in the mirror, she realized her workaday bra looked ridiculous, so daringly, she reached behind and unhooked it, allowing her heavy breasts to tumble out of their tight constraint with a sigh of release.

"How does it look?" said an impatient voice from outside the curtain.

"It's not on yet!" Steph answered.

With a whirr, the curtain whipped open and Steph was suddenly exposed. With a squeak of surprise, she crossed her hands in front in a vain effort to hide her large breasts, unconstrained by the still loose top.

A hot blush stained her olive cheeks, she had never been this naked in front of another girl before. She was also mortified because she felt her curvy body was unattractive next to Gabrielle's long spare frame.

Steph hung her head, allowing her silky black hair to swing forward and hide her burning face.

Gabrielle slipped in. Stepping back, she eyed the other girl critically. Turning her, the girl briskly pulled the strings of the corset, making Steph suck in her breath as the corded bodice tightened around her ribcage. Looking up, her face went crimson as her breasts, ample at the best of times, swelled up in a rich plump bounty of flesh, quivering as she struggled to take in a full breath. Her large nipples tightened in the cool air of the cubicle, firming and lengthening from both the atmosphere and Steph's mortified realization that another woman was gazing at her.

Gabrielle watched her over her shoulder in the mirror. Grinning, she reached under Steph's arm and with experienced hands firmly grasped one heavy breast, pulling the wisp of lace in the front of the bodice over its plenitude. A moment, and the second breast was similarly caught. Steph looked at herself. Her breathing, already affected by the tight lacing, whistled as she took in the fact that her breasts had just been squeezed into a position where their normal bountiful presence was well nigh overwhelming.

Her mouth opened as she took in her appearance – she looked, she thought, remarkably sexy – at least from the waist up. Her hair, tousled and full, looked as if she had been wrestling in sheets, spilling over her shoulder, an ebony lock falling in one beautiful eye. Her neck, long and slender rose from her strong shoulders in a graceful arch while her breasts looked as if they were placed on a platter, offered for sampling. Their beautiful creamy texture quivered as she took harsh, shallow breaths, the tip of her areolas dark and sweet above the wisp of dull gold. Her waist looked impossibly tiny, the full breasts looking almost too heavy for its slender support. Her hips, lush and full swept out from the tiny cinched waist in a glorious sweep of flesh, the indentation of her bellybutton inviting and provocative.

"It would look better with stockings and high boots," Gabrielle pointed out prosaically.

Steph blushed again, her eyes meeting the blue gaze of the storekeeper over her shoulders.

"No, it's quite lovely ... but I'm good, thank you," she trailed off.

Then looking at herself again, she decided.

"I'll take it," she said firmly. "I'll just get dressed, shall I?" Raising, an eyebrow, attempting to sound firmer than she felt inside, Steph looked at the other girl.

Grinning, Gabrielle sketched a bow and swept out, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

Letting go a tremulous breath, Steph stood for a moment. She was feeling somewhat overwhelmed at the moment. The proximity of the other woman, her touching had left her feeling, well, uncomfortable.

Looking back to the mirror, she trailed her fingers along the swollen top of her breasts, sighing.

Several minutes later, Steph left the room, clutching the corset, her hair brushed and swept back, her lovely breasts once again restrained. Striding to the counter, she avoided Gabrielle's eyes, busying herself with pulling out her credit card.

Ringing up the purchase, Gabrielle schooled her face to be serious. She was intrigued by this pretty but very obviously inexperienced Latina. This girl definitely had no concept of how goddamed sexy she was and Gabrielle didn't want to frighten her away.

Smiling, she bagged Steph's purchase, handed her the bill and the very pretty silver bag of with Intimates stenciled across its surface. Steph smiled a little tremulously at her.

"Do come back," Gabrielle urged. "We get new shipments every two weeks and I'm waiting for some really lovely outfits would look stunning with your colouring."

Steph, grasping her bag, tightly, nodded and almost ran out of the store, Gabrielle grinning after her.

*****

Later that night, Mario heaving and groaning on top, his stiff prick pistoning inside her soaking pussy, Steph closed her eyes and remembered the feel of Gabrielle's hands on her breasts. Mario's fingers squeezed her full tits harshly and almost painfully as his hips pushed into her and Steph remembered how soft and gentle Gabrielle's fingers had felt as they cupped, then oh so gently squeezed her breast and the feel of Gabrielle's finger trailing over her engorged nipple. Mario's breathing increased rapidly, and Steph jumped slightly as he released his hold on her breasts to grab her thighs.

Deep within her groin, she felt a pulling, a deep ache and opening her eyes, she stared into the sweating face of her husband. Wrapping her feet around his thick waist, she wiggled, trying to push her clit against the bony part of his groin. Grunting, he pulled her thighs up against his waist and then giving a harsh yell, his prick began spasming and Steph felt hot scalding cum squirting inside her slippery passageway.

Thrusting, he pushed into her in long, strong strokes, emptying his prick. Steph felt her orgasm edging away and fought the urge to cry. Her breasts felt swollen and hard, the nipples engorged and aching. Mario pulled out abruptly, his still stiff penis trailing a string of pale almost translucent sperm. Shaking himself, he stood up, a little weak kneed and made his way to the bathroom to wash – something he did each time, leaving Steph feeling like she was somehow dirty.

Surreptitiously, she closed her eyes again and cupping her breast, rolled the engorged nipple between her fingers. Her other hand went between her thighs, slippery and wet with her own arousal and her husband's cum. Pushing a finger gently up her cunt, she relished the feel, thick and pasty, of his sperm. She remembered again the smell of the store, that soft, perfumed oh so feminine scent that went so perfectly with the whole feel of silk and satin, brushed cotton and femininity. She searched her memory and recreated the moment when the Gabrielle's long capable fingers cupped her breast, recalling the feel of that soft palm on the underside of her heavy beast, then the sweet electric spark of her finger trailing along her nipple as she pulled the bodice up. Steph actually heard the slippery wet slick sound of her own hand as she frantically rubbed her swollen clit. With a stifled groan, she imagined Gabrielle's soft lips coming toward her, leaning down and capturing the engorged nipple, suckling long, hard.

Steph moaned as the first wave of her orgasm engulfed her. She sighed harshly, pressing her groin against her hand, relishing the feel of the hot spray which spurted from her urethra – the reason in fact that Mario seldom stayed with her.. Female ejaculation was rare and in Mario's world, unheard of. He found it off-putting and even disgusting. The first time it had happened, Steph had been mortified, the hot aching, full sensation in the front of her groin, then the spray, spurting out in rhythmic contractions as she came. She thought, horrified, that she had actually peed and Mario had yelled at her, thinking the same.

It had not happened for a long time after that until one day as Mario fucked her harshly from behind, she had felt it again and cupping her hand between her thighs, her breasts stretched and shaking as he pushed into her, her eyes closed as she imagined his prick throbbing and pushing into her swollen red cunt and then that feeling ... that beautiful, hot, aching feeling and fluid squishing from between her cupped fingers, trailing clear streams down against her wrist, on the bed. Since then, Mario seemed to consciously avoid allowing her to reach her peak – a course of action Steph rationally understood and had accepted – until recently.

She had done some research, some searching and come to the conclusion not only was this a natural occurrence but she was in fact extremely fortunate. It was NOT urine she had pointed out to her husband, but was speculated to come from the periurtheral gland. Mario was skeptical and reiterated that he found it "unnatural" and "disgusting". Steph gave up, and the fact that her husband found her natural functions revolting combined with his very obvious efforts to avoid her reaching orgasm effectively killed any please she might have gleaned from their couplings. Her hand and privacy were the only relief she had experienced for some time. Worse, deep inside, she thought Mario was probably right – that it was disgusting and that she was a freak.

Sighing, she rolled over, opening her side drawer and wiping her hand on the hand towel she kept there for that purpose, the running it between her still tense thighs. The bed dipped as Mario got in and leaning over, pecked her cheek.

***********

"Thank you, enjoy your purchase." The clerk handed Steph her change. Steph hesitated and the girl looked at her inquiringly.

"Is Gabrielle not in today?" Steph forced herself to ask.

"She's on lunch – she should be back shortly. Do you want to leave a message?"

The past few months had passed with a blur of sensation and emotions that made the normally stoic Steph feel she was sometimes going mad. She had returned to Intimates the next week and found the same comfortable feeling with Gabrielle that she had left with the very first time. Coming from a close-knit, rather misogynist community, Steph had had very few friends outside her immediate family, and certainly not from any non-Latino group. It was refreshing, exciting and stimulating to meet someone with such a radically different background to her own rather mundane upbringing.

To Steph, Gabrielle was not only gorgeous in the way a small town girl dreamed of being gorgeous but her intelligence, verve and cosmopolitan lifestyle intrigued her and drew her back again and again. Steph knew in some ways she was lucky. Mario worked long hours and made good money and liked to see her spend it – encouraging her to buy clothes and showering her with what she secretly felt was gaudy jewelry. She knew that she was envied among her group but they didn't know the mind-numbing boredom she experienced, the disgust she was starting to feel more and more at the hurried, brutal couplings, the need to expand a mind that her husband refused to acknowledge she possessed.

Gabrielle had changed all that. Steph devoured the books Gaby suggested; dragged her to movies Steph had never heard of, and slowly, painfully began to learn that she had her own opinions, her own feelings, her own viewpoints. Now, when the girls got together at their favourite coffee shop, they were often the center of many envious and amused glances as they passionately argued points and debated issues that Steph had had no awareness of before her meeting with this fascinating girl.

As Steph would prepare for their now weekly meetings, she would laugh at herself.

"It's like I'm going on a date." she would berate herself, rummaging through her lingerie drawer, looking at and discarding outfit after outfit, then, carefully applying makeup. She would studiously ignore the fluttering in her stomach, the swelling breasts and engorged nipples as she dressed, caressing her own breasts, closing her eyes, thinking of her friend's soft mouth, long pretty legs and firm breasts. Sighing, she would touch herself briefly between her legs, astonished at the dampness, telling herself that she was just trying to look her best.

Although today was not the day to meet Gaby, Steph had felt an overwhelming desire to see her. She found that she was increasingly impatient to see her friend, storing away snippets of wisdom gleaned from her newly expanded reading list, rehearsing amusing incidents that occurred in the course of her largely mundane days, generally finding reasons to call her, just to hear her merry voice.

With each meeting, Steph found herself blossoming. When with the lovely long limbed Gabrielle, Steph felt sometimes she was someone else. She found that with Gaby's urging, she had opinions, sometimes even decided ones that she was beginning to understand were legitimate. For the first time too, she began to feel that her short waisted, heavy breasted figure was not short and stocky but lush and sensuous. Gabrielle would help her choose beautiful soft lingerie, run lingering fingers along the sensitive breasts and laughing, confess herself envious. She would stand behind Steph, her long spare hands warm on her shoulders, her beautiful blue eyes laughing into Steph's in the mirror, while against her back, Steph would feel the soft firm mounds of her friend's own small pretty breasts.

Best of all, Gabrielle, like Steph, was a toucher. Walking down the street, she would link her arm companionably in her friends. When they met she would kiss, first on the cheek, but lately right on the lips, and Steph even felt the kiss last time lingered slightly. As they spoke and argued, Gabrielle would constantly touch Steph's arm, or squeeze her leg, even lean over and gently push a strand of the heavy ebony hair behind her ear.

Their once a week meeting was no longer enough for Steph who found she wanted to see Gaby every day. Today, residual anger from her coupling with her unappreciative husband still fresh, she feel a yearning to see her friend.

On a whim, she dressed, then gathering up her purse, hurried to Intimates – arguing to herself that she would just see if Gaby had time for a quick coffee. She had been unreasonably crushed when she stepped into Intimates only to see Claudia, Gaby's clerk there by herself.