That's good," Sammi said down the phone.
"Why?"
"Cos of two reasons."
"May I ask what they are?" I said half expecting to be told to fuck off and not be so bloody impertinent.
"First, because I can now fuck you when I want for over two weeks can't I?"
"Yes," I replied simply to my eighteen year old lesbian Domme lover. "And the second?"
"That, you can wait to find out, I'll be round in an hour or so," she said cutting the connection without any further ado, something she often did.
++++
My husband, Kevin, had a business involved with the oil industry and travelled a lot. I sometimes went with him when he went to places like Dallas and Houston, Dubai and Bahrain that were marginally interesting. A two and a half week trip to upcountry China didn't qualify, so I was on my own.
Up until a few weeks ago I would have had my eighteen year old daughter Sara for company, but having left school with great A level results she was on a gap year travelling in Asia and Australia. So I was alone, well I would have been apart from Sammi. She was Sara's friend at school. Being very sporty she had decided to try to make it in professional football with Arsenal ladies team instead of going to uni. Just last week she had been given a contract.
I had known Sammi since she was eleven so I had seen her grow up. From a child, through puberty, into a young woman I had watched her growing and developing. Until the moment she seduced me just six weeks ago, however, I had no inkling of her sexuality or of my latent bisexual feelings. Equally, as we had developed our strange relationship, I had no idea that I was cut out to be the ideal submissive to my young lover's dominant side. But I was and that is what she did to me. It was so incongruous, I thought, a forty three year old, happily married, pillar of society mother being fucked at every opportunity by an eighteen year old female soccer player.
+++
"So you liked that did you?" She asked me as we lay side by side in my marital bed in my house later that afternoon?
"Yes," I grunted feeling nearly sated after Sammi had made me cum three times in quick succession; I was beginning to think I was getting too old for such multi orgasm sessions.
"You liked me doing that?"
"Yes, I told you."
"Was it better than when Kevin does it?"
"Yes, I think it was."
"Good, well next time my dirty slut I am going to use a dildo up that lovely arse of yours and not my tongue and fingers."
I dozed for a while then woke up. Sammi was gone. I got up, slipped into a pair of tracky trousers and a baggy sweat shirt, just in case Ben our gardener had shown up, although it was raining, and went downstairs. Sammi was sitting on one of the wicker chairs in the pool conservatory naked. I looked round the garden, she saw me.
"Yes your gardener was here, he got quite an eyeful seeing me doing my lengths."
"Oh dear."
"Don't worry I'm only joking, he didn't see me."
I made some tea and we sat drinking in the conservatory.
"So you like flashing then?" She asked completely out of the blue obviously referring to a few evenings ago.
We'd had dinner to celebrate her contract. In the restaurant she had made me go to the loo and remove my bra. Outside the restaurant we had gone under an overhanging tree and she had not only unbuttoned my top and got my tits out, but had also pulled my tightish skirt up and made me take my panties off and give them to her. As we walked down, fairly quiet roads I was, at first, petrified that someone would see my tits which continuously popped out from my top. But later as we got nearer my home she had rolled my skirt up and pulling me into a doorway had finger fucked me to a near orgasm. She then made me walk with my skirt round my waist stopping every hundred yards or so to rekindle my climax. She had considerately moved very close to me and had shielded me as people walked past on the other side of the road, but some must have seen either my tits or pubes or bum or even all of them.
"Yes Sammi, I think I showed that," I replied referring to the fact that when we got to my house we had fucked each other in the middle of the lawn in my back garden.
"See, stick with Sammi and you'll learn a lot," she said quite jauntily, picking up her ironing that I had done that morning. "See you then," she said walking out and getting on her scooter.
+++
I was very surprised when I saw that it was her calling me on my mobile later that evening. She usually left it a few days after we'd had sex before getting in touch, making me pine was the reason, I assumed. Actually, the time gaps did quite the opposite. They made me resolve to stop the relationship. It was becoming riskier all the time. Sammi and I were taking more chances and I was horrified that someone, especially my daughter would find out. So after each time I vowed to finish it and tell her it was all over. I wish it was true that the reason I didn't was because I believed she would tell Sara and Kevin, but deep down I knew that she wouldn't tell them. Deep down the reasons I didn't finish it were, and it totally pissed me off to recognise it, that I wanted the buzz, I enjoyed what she we were doing, I was feeling liberated and I loved the type of sex we were having.
"Ok," she said when I answered "Tomorrow night will be big time."
"How do you mean?"
"No need to worry your pretty little head about how, just believe it is. You are in for something really special, now listen carefully."
I listened with a degree of incredulity. But then, after going on the first date with her and dressing in that short skirt so she could look up it on the escalators at Piccadilly Circus and then having her lift it up and rub my clit until she made me cum in front of a gay man and lesbian audience in the Falcon pub in Soho, I was getting used to outlandish things with Sammi.
She hadn't told me what we were going to do nor where we were going other than that I had to meet her outside Patel's pharmacy right outside Notting Hill tube station the next evening at eight in the evening. She had though given very explicit instructions on how I should dress.
"Don't wear a bra, I want your tits bare and available at all times. You could wear that white blouse you had on when we went to the Falcon, but something thinner and tighter would be better. It must be buttoned up the front and be as thin as possible so I can see your nipples through it, you can wear something over it for the tube trip."
Little did she know that I had no intention of using the Central Line, but instead would use Kevin's account to have a nice Merc or BMW whisk me up to Bayswater where I would use the tube for one station, just in case she was watching.