Leslie 1

This is a short tale about me and my older lover - the first time we met. She owns me...

It was raining lightly today and at last the buds had popped from the trees, a light green of spring beginning to adorn the streets.

But none of that mattered to me.

My body was trembling as I stood in Leslie's living room, facing her as she sat on the chair. It was a moment I'd been eagerly anticipating for the last week, ever since our chance meeting at the cafe.

It had been fairly busy in the precinct and I'd asked if she'd minded me sitting at her table. The way she glanced up and then did a double-take as she saw me made my heart beat a little faster.

I hadn't seen that sort of look for some time but I recognised it instantly. This was a woman who was into other women. And she wanted me...

It turned out that she was ten years older than me—thirty-eight—but that only added to the attraction on both sides. We were both turned on by the younger and older theme. I'd known that the instant her gaze had found mine.

In my case, my first lover had been much older than me. She hadn't been particularly attractive in a conventional sense, but she had been persistent, dominant, and she'd known exactly what she'd wanted. She was everything I'd ever wanted and I'd been searching for another woman like her ever since.

Now, fate had decreed that I'd found her.

She told me later that the thought of being with someone younger had always haunted her sexual fantasies. Her niece had often featured in her masturbatory moments, when they would do wonderful, naughty, and taboo things together.

Even during that first getting-to-know-you meeting in the cafe, she confided that she masturbated regularly, recognising instantly that her lewd words found their way between my thighs. When she confessed that she occasionally enjoyed multiple orgasms, and that she usually became so sensitive she just had to press her clitty hard and hold it like that, I'd almost cum there and then.

Don't ask me how we had ended up talking so openly, so sexually, because even now I can't remember. It just seemed so natural.

Then she had asked my preferences—did my body shiver and quake at being commanded, did my nipples harden instantly when touched, did I get wet when I was told I was a slut.

And all of the time, her toes ran up my leg under the table, promising me everything when she eventually got me home...

She telephoned me midweek to invite me to her house at the weekend when her husband was away. I'd agreed instantly, of course. Then she'd confided that her robe was open as she was talking to me, that she was pressing her breasts together and drooling on them as we spoke, making them slippery as she held them in her hands—and offering them to the empty chair in front of her, imaging that I was sitting there.

I had instantly cum—hard—at the images her soft voice created.

Right now, she was sitting beside that same chair, watching me closely, in the same robe that she had described to me. We hadn't spoken much—yet—but we both knew I was hers to do with as she wished.

That she was a substitute high school and junior high teacher only made her more desirable. How wonderfully wicked. So was the fact she often thought about her niece, and that sometimes an interaction with a student sparked a particular interest. She had always dreamed of having a sweet young girl who lost herself in her emerging slutty lust, one who was helpless other than to obey her touches and commands.

That girl was me.

Yet it wasn't quite that simple. She also knew of the dangers of such a liaison, that society was so judgemental about things sexual, and that—as a married woman with such a respected job—she had so much to lose.

Her husband was straight laced, and although it wasn't terrible, their sex life lacked the edge she knew she had inside her. Of course she didn't want to risk her marriage—she hadn't been with another woman in years, not since a few years after college, before she was married—but what choice did she have? She was craving the need again...

The thought that she wanted me—me!—was such a turn on. I'd played with myself every night since that first moment we'd met, thinking about her words and their meaning.

Leslie was craving it, craving me, craving Rach!

She'd said she wasn't a 'pretty' woman and yet I found her the most desirable being on God's earth. And right now, the whole of my body was trembling as I stood infront of her, watching as her gaze swept across my figure, her tongue wetting her lips. Her warm cozy robe had drifted open a little as she lifted one leg up onto the hassock and it was impossible to keep my eyes away.

But then she caught me looking...

"Look at my eyes, Rachal," she softly told me. "Nowhere else ... just look at my eyes. Watch them as they travel down your body, resting on your breasts, clearly looking at one and then the other, before returning to meet your gaze."

My nipples began to ache longingly at her words.

When she nodded her head at my breasts, I knew it was a silent instruction. I raised my hands to my white blouse, flicking open one button after another, continuing to watch her eyes as I eventually pulled the blouse out of my skirt and allowed it to slide down my shoulders and float down onto the carpet.

She smiled again, even though she was shaking her head.

"Oh, my dear, I see you have chosen to wear a bra today. No wonder I couldn't see the shape of those delicious nipples through your blouse. But I can see them now, pushing through the fabric. In future when you come to see me, the only bra you may wear is a shelf bra, so that they always ride above the cups, always slide against the fabric of your clothing, and are always available to be caressed, made ready for me. Do you understand, Rachal?"

I nodded affirmatively, trying desperately to obey her instructions to maintain eye contact even though her robe had now fallen far enough open to fully expose herself. Was it my imagination or could I see, in the periphery of my vision, that her fingers had crept to the tuft of dark hair she maintained above her nether lips, combing and tugging it while she spoke.

"Unzip your skirt, precious one," she spoke again, her breath a little raspy. "Show me the decoration you've worn for me today ... how you've wrapped up that pretty package. Show me."

Her urgency was such a turn-on. She needed to see me. Was she going to taste me? Was I going to taste her? I already knew the answer to each question.

Taking a step closer, my hands went to the zip of my short black skirt, easing it downwards and then allowing the garment to pool at my feet.

The right strap of my bra fell from my shoulder and I left it there while Leslie nodded approvingly at the delicious skimpiness of my plunging black thong. I slowly did a full turn so that she could savour the sight of my tight ass, loving the heated gaze it brought to her eyes.

"Exquisite, darling," she praised as her fingers began to provocatively move between her thighs, "Now the rest."

Oh my God, she was masturbating...

With a swallow, I instantly obeyed. I wanted—needed—this wonderfully sexual woman to see my nakedness. I unhooked the front fastener, allowing my full breasts to bounce free and cupped them in front of her. When her hand began to move faster, my large nipples hardened further.

Keeping my gaze on hers, I eased my thumbs into the waistband of the thong and pulled it over the gentle curve of my hips and down over my thighs. Standing in only my lacy-topped thigh-highs, I felt liberated.

"Do you know what this is?" I cheekily asked, gesturing to my body.

"What is it, darling?" she asked, eagerly leaning forward as she sensed my answer.

"It's yours."

Leslie's pupils dilated as her smile widened.

"Indeed it is," she purred. "Now pull your nipples out to the sides so I can see how it changes the shape of your breasts, Rachal."

My breath almost caught in my throat as I followed her direction. Could she tell how aroused I was?

"That's it darling," she softly murmured. "Now tug them, twist them just a little ... yes, like that..."

I gasped as the delicious sensations worked their way from my nipples to my clit. I was ready to cum already.

"Come here, Rachal," she suddenly directed.

I moved forward that one final step, spreading my legs as I stood in front of her and opening my nether lips to show her my wetness. Her hungry gaze took in the glistening drops as they formed. It was quiet time, sensual time, giving time, filled with the aromas of our bodies and with the little kitten sounds from our throats punctured by our raspy breathing.

When I lowered myself to straddle her thigh, I almost fainted at the delicious friction of skin on skin. Leslie's hand had begun to work between her legs again and this time I couldn't draw my eyes away from her, even as I rubbed my baby-smooth sex—once, twice—on her thigh.

That was all it took.

I came instantly, covering her thigh with my girl-juices as I shrieked out my climax in the all consuming way I always did.

Even when I tried to be quiet, I was noisy.

Leslie's eyes narrowed in lust as she avidly listened to my moans and watched as the orgasmic tremors flooded through me. When they eventually began to subside, she removed the fingers from between her thighs and offered them to my lips. I took them into my mouth, sucking each one clean as if I was giving head to a cock.

"That's it, darling," she sexily murmured, curling her fingers in my mouth.

She hooked two of them behind my teeth so that I had to slide to my knees between her spread thighs. Her head tilted forward as she took my hanging breasts in her palms, squeezing them gently as her lips found mine. We kissed—softly, lightly—and I heard her murmur her approval as I nibbled on her lower lip.

"Open your mouth," she told me, and then dribbled saliva from her mouth to mine.

I sucked it inside before opening my lips wider, letting her see me run her saliva around the inside of my mouth before swallowing. She dribbled even more inside, passing her fluids to me in the sexiest way imaginable.

My distended nipples were hard in her hands, grazing against her warm palms as she moved her hands back and forth on my breasts.

Cupping, squeezing, mashing...

Then both hands had left me, wrapping themselves in my hair as she pulled my head to her chest.

"I do think I'm perspiring," she told me, "Why don't clean all around my breasts darling, like a cat would clean itself."

I felt the heat between my thighs at the first touch of my tongue on her skin. I lapped between her breasts to begin with, loving the salty taste, and then moved my tongue slowly around each breast, occasionally flicking across, up and along the delicious curve but then returning to the path she'd instructed me.

My hand dropped between my thighs as I licked at her skin—her personal cat, there to lap at her as instructed—arousing myself further as if the delicious feel and taste of her wasn't enough. Eventually, when every inch of skin was glistening with my saliva rather than her perspiration, she cupped both breasts and offered her nipples to me.

I took them eagerly—sucking, licking and lapping all at once—suckling like a baby. When she held them apart, I followed the movement and alternately sucked on one and then the other, loving their hardness between my lips.

My eyes found hers as I drooled over them, my saliva pouring from between my lips, sliding over her warm flesh, curling around her nipples and then slowly, very slowly, dripping down onto her belly. My tongue followed, tracing downwards, following the saliva-stream towards its inevitable destination. Her musky aroma and the lewd sight were overwhelming.

"Now, darling..." she gently encouraged as she opened her nether lips with one hand and pulled my mouth to her glistening folds with the other. "I want you to show Leslie exactly how much you need her."