A story of lesbian seduction, awakening, control, and intense edging. There are 11 more chapters and the action definitely hots up. This started life as messages exchanged with a young Eastern European girl whose name escapes me but it began with A. Enjoy!
Chapter 01 - Julia lures young Felicity to her apartment
*********
I was walking along the wide path behind the glorious sandy beach on the north coast of the largest of the Greek islands. The early afternoon sun was warm on my face and the atmosphere was convivial as groups of mostly young people sunbathed, played games, chatted, and laughed on the beach. Others congregated outside the numerous stylish cafes, posing, preening, and flirting.
I'd rented the same apartment here for the last seven summers as I always enjoyed watching the bright young things, especially the females parading their slim toned bodies to impress their friends. I'd noticed how the fashion in bikinis changed from year to year and currently, to my great delight, the styles were definitely skimpy, verging on the Brazilian. Thongs were de rigeur, exposing firm tanned bum cheeks. From the front, the more daring girls hardly even covered their pubic mounds (shaving was essential) and even the bustiest of them seemingly only found it necessary to cover their areole. Halter necks, delicate straps, neat stitching, and the kinds of fabrics that stretch so provocatively over erect nipples, then turn almost transparent when wet. I wonder if their mothers approve, or even care.
Was I complaining? No. Was I excited? Yes, of course, that's the whole point of the unspoken game being played out. And I was part of that game. Even at 44 years old, 5 feet 8 tall and rounded 34D breasts, my body had stood the test of time well. All those hours in the gym, careful choice of diet and a generous helping of kind genetics meant I could still flaunt and flirt with the best of them. Was I wearing a bikini? Well of course I was. The exhibitionist in me lives on and I love the admiration and surreptitious looks, especially from the women. Deep crimson red, unlined top to show off my nipps, narrow straps over and behind my shoulders and a cheeky clasp at the front buried in my evocative cleavage. Skimpy bottoms to match, of course, revealing as much as I dared.
I have to admit, I had already rubbed myself through the thin fabric even before I'd left the apartment, posing in front of the enormous mirror and getting myself nicely aroused as I thought of looking at other female bodies, much as I enjoyed looking at my own. Describing little circles around my nipples with my long nails, loving how they reacted, poking and pointing, making peaks in the clingy material, beginning to tingle, throb, grow, mmm they looked delicious in the mirror. As I'd admired them, I couldn't resist just a little stroke between my legs, imagining the fingers were not my own but belonged to someone else who I was yet to meet ... stroking through the expensive expertly-made swimwear. Swimwear? This had another purpose, a wicked, provocative, alluring, seductive purpose. I wasn't planning to swim, but I was intending it to become wet. Maybe I'd put on a little show under the cold showers behind the beach, maybe yes, but I had a very different idea of wetness in mind, and it was already starting.
Just one more stroke, I'd promised myself, or just a few more, to get me in the mood. Mmmmm, I confessed, 'I am so In The Mood now', running my middle finger along the crease in the fabric where it had worked its way into my pussy slit, sliding it down, then up. Down, then up a little further each time, brushing over my clit, making me shudder and let out a tell-tale cry, the need in me growing, the need to slide one hand under the tight bikini top, to caress my breast, to play with my erect nipple. The other hand exploring inside ... but no, I'd resisted, and continued to make those lovely figure-of-eight shapes over my clit with my expensively manicured nails, scraping over the material, feeling the click of almost every thread, sending ripples of arousal through that unique throbbing collection of nerve-endings that were about to bring me the most pleasurable prize a woman can experience. Closer, closer as the warm air washed over my near-naked body, blowing seductively through the open window. Faster and more intentionally, then slowly, drawing it out, luxuriating in the inexorable climb to the peak of my arousal, until it became almost unbearable as I teetered on the edge. People outside able to hear my moans, my whimpers, my little gasps of pleasure and then ... my cries of frustration as I purposefully pulled my fingers away, my body shaking as I denied myself the orgasm I knew I so desperately needed.
I'd watched my reflection in the mirror as my inner thighs shuddered, my tummy muscles tight, beads of perspiration trickling down my smooth skin. I'd held onto that feeling of delicious self-control as all kinds of chemicals rushed through my body and my mind whirred with mixed emotions. 'Why do I do this to myself? Why do I deny myself the pleasure that's so readily available to me?' Why? Because I can, because I love it, and because I know that the journey to my next orgasm will be another amazing roller-coaster ride of intense emotions, erect nipples, throbbing clitoris, and oozing juices. And, whenever it comes, my next climax would be so much more powerful, more intense, and very, very satisfying.
And so there I was, looking out over the alluring bodies on the beach; pent up, expectan, but for now at least, on my own. But around 4 pm I became aware of a girl just a few metres along the railings from me; she too was alone, and by her demeanour, she appeared to be upset. I watched her long enough for my mind to fill out an imaginary index card: average height but very slim, which made her look taller than she really was. Blonde hair roughly piled on top of her head. Slender legs and a noticeable thigh-gap. Cute little titties, maybe a 30B, or 32A, small waist curving outwards to nice hips. Classy bikini in purple; bandeau top and tied-just-below-the-hip-bone skimpy bottoms. Clean white trainers. Probably about 17 or 18 years old but could pass for 15 in the right outfit.
As a moved towards her I could see she'd been crying so I asked her if everything was OK. She looked up at me, smiled for a moment, then began to cry again.
"I've lost all my stuff" she sobbed, so I invited her to explain.
"I was on an island-hopping party boat with friends but I lost track of time. I'd left all my things on the boat for safety but the boat's gone without me. And as if that wasn't bad enough, I've just dropped my phone and it doesn't even turn on now so I have nothing at all. No phone, no money, no clothes, no ID, no passport, sweet fuck all..." she blurted in an anguished stream, and burst into floods of tears.
Instinctively I put my arm around her shoulder and tried to reassure her. "I'm sure we can sort something out. Do you know anyone on the island?"
She shook her head.
"Can I call one of your friends and get them to come back for you?"
"Can't remember anyone's numbers."
"Call your Mum?"
"No, no, NO, she'll have a fit I'm not even supposed to be here she thinks I'm in London."
We explored a few other possibilities. then her eyes lit up and she pulled a small slip of paper from inside the front of her bikini top. Pumping her elbows she cried "Yes! my ticket," and waved the slip of paper at me. It was her trip ticket and it had the phone number of the boat company on it.
"Can I borrow your phone and call them? Please? I'll love you forever if you do."
The prospect was very enticing. She was very attractive on several levels and, to be honest, I was drawn to her vulnerability as well as her body. My arousal levels were climbing.
"Sorry," I replied. She looked something between crestfallen and angry.
"I've heard of tricksters around here asking to borrow phones then running off with them. But I'll call the boat people for you if you read out the number."
She did that lovely elbow-pump thing again and smiled broadly.
After a long wait I got through to the boat company's office and in my basic Greek I explained the situation. The woman at the other end knew where the boat was berthed and kindly offered to send someone in a speedboat to pick up her things. They'd be there in two hours.
"What did they say? Can I get my bag back?"
I looked into her eyes and concealed my intentions as best I could.
"She said the skipper has found your bag but he's locked it away in the boatyard office and there aren't any more trips planned for 3 days. They'll bring it here on the next island-hopper party-boat trip ... on Friday."
She burst into tears again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I supposed to do now? I've got nowhere to stay, no money for food, and I can't walk the streets dressed like this I'll get arrested, or worse"
I feigned 'deep in thought' even though my plan was already well-formed.
"Come and sit down. I'll buy you a drink and let's try to work something out."
She thew her arms round my neck and kissed me, which came as a nice surprise.
"Thank you that would be amazing. I'm so happy it was you who spoke to me and not some creepy guy only interested in what's inside my bikini."
I smiled. "Indeed," I replied.
My pussy twitched and my clit made its unsatisfied presence felt as I took her hand and led her to a secluded cafe-bar.
The waitress raised an eyebrow. "What can I get you, and ... your daughter?"
"Niece," I corrected, looking at the young lady in question who threw me a quizzical expression.
"Beer?" She nodded, and looked away.
