Penny's little lessie
This story can be read as the third part of a series that begins with, 'The coming of Penny,' and continues with, 'My glistening Penny.' Each of these three stories can be read separately though reading them in sequence will give a more coherent picture of my affair so I have done my best to keep the overlap to a minimum. Finally, if anyone only wants to read of lesbian love and lust, this third part does contain paragraphs that relate heterosexual activities, you have been warned!
Penny - who on our very first encounter had pressed her powerful wand vibrator to my clit and made me come so deliciously violently and, on our second meeting, had sucked, licked and fingered me through a series of six mind blowing orgasms - had offered to teach me how to please her and ever since I had been longing for the day when I became her eager pupil.
Whilst kneeling between her splayed legs, licking her lips and her clit, revelling in her moans and sighs as I tried to bring her to orgasm I had realised just how ignorant I was about female bodies, my body, her body, every woman's body. I owned one and had no idea how it worked, bit like our car really. Penny, on the other hand, was an expert. I had no idea what she had done to my clit with her lips and tongue but she had driven me at speed through a succession of six overwhelmingly intense orgasms. Now I was eager to discover how and return the favour. And, as her pupil, I would have to do as she told me, no arguments, and she would no doubt demand things that made me squirm with embarrassment, things that filled me up with desire and need until I overflowed.
I recalled what I had promised her, 'Penny I want to be your good little lessie, I want to learn how to please you as much as you please me. To learn to please you more if I can. I want to be the one making you scream out with lust.' I'd have to confess that I was her good little lessie as I worshipped her body. I'd have to expose all my most intimate places to her so she could guide me as I played with myself. I shuddered, I expected that she would want me do all kinds of dirty and depraved things... Then the dream faded because I had no real idea about what Penny would want me to do, just that I hoped it would be lewd and rather embarrassing because pleasing Penny pleased me, especially if it was against my better judgment.
For the thousandth time I asked myself, 'Why me?' A woman almost twice her age! What's her fascination with me? I did not understand but I was so grateful things were the way they were and wise enough not to ask questions.
The fly in my ointment was Greg, my husband of eighteen years. Once we had been madly in lust, coupling like rabbits, I'd go without panties for him or only wear them so that I could pull them down later and hand them over to him. He loved that, started telling me when to pull them down and give them to him, telling me to flash my tits at him in restaurants and bars. Had me perform lewd acts for him in the bedroom, first spread my legs and then my lips for him, lie on my back, grab my ankles and spread wide, allsorts. And I had loved it, I had loved him, adored his masterly ways and enjoyed pleasing him. Sadly things had changed.
He still had a manly dominance but now it was the kind that kept a tracker on my phone so he always knew just where I was. We had a doorbell camera, a security camera covering the front door, a security camera covering the back door and those were the ones I knew about. Greg could access all of these devises remotely through his phone and, for all I knew he could listen in to me using our three sets of smart speakers too! He would pop back on his nights out to check 'I was OK.' He texted me a dozen times a day to reassure himself that I was fine, not doing anything 'silly.' He opened my post and read it, he knew my passwords and accessed all of my devices just 'to protect me from harm.' I had to justify every penny I spent and recount every conversation. His consideration for my welfare just grew and grew until he left me stifled and controlled. And if that were not enough he sorted out our money, doling out just enough each day so that I could shop for what we needed.
Over time his evenings out with the lads had grown to be more and more frequent, he arrived home less and less sober and his hangovers grew bigger and bigger. I went to bed early to avoid his anger, our sex life dwindled, catching him both sober and not hungover was an increasing rarity. Worse, he had always been a gifted raconteur, now he was the life and soul of every party and with his swift wit, elephantine memory and endless supply of stories he was really popular. 'Have another and tell us another,' was where his problems had started, he could go out, get pissed six nights a week, never need to buy a single drink and his mates never noticed, never resented it, thought the sun shone from out of his backside and told me how lucky I was to be married to him.