Sisters in Satin

Thirty years ago, a lesbian acquaintance who had a serious satin fetish (we love her already) and who knew of my penchant for story telling, asked for my help. She had answered a classified advert for ladies clothing in the hopes there might be some satin items in the collection. The young woman who answered the phone had sounded deliciously innocent and had become quite excited when our lesbian friend began talking about satin. The satin lesbian set her heart on seducing the young woman, and asked me to pen a story that would pander to the girls obvious interest in satin, and turn her on so much that she wouldn't be able to resist her gay advances.

Unfortunately, our lesbian friend emigrated overseas in a career move before the story and her planned seduction were finished. This is as far as I got with the tale. No plans to complete it, but I thought it had merit. What do you all think?

Sisters in satin

Chapter 1. A forgotten advert

Through the gap of the curtains, out of sight of her husband's waving glances, their neighbours - still holidaying - completing the window privacy, the fingernails of one of her hands tickles over one of her satin sheathed swelling nipples. As she started to sway slightly from the effect of the onslaught of her nails, she made little involuntary huffs of pleasure with each tickling pass, her satin wrap whispering over her delicious satin nightie. She returned her husband's farewell waves (her feeling of complete naughtiness compounded by the knowledge that he knew nothing of what she was doing, half hidden behind the bedroom curtains), as he drove away, the cars lights harsh in the early, still darkness of the winter morning.

No. It wasn't just what she was doing to herself now; it was also what she was going to do that made her spasm in anticipation.

She releases her hold on the curtain and the fingers of her other hand quickly joined the tickling attention to her other breast, allowing herself a loud 'hmm' as she had the house to herself for the next ten minutes. With the slippery contact of her nails over the smooth layers of her satin nightie and matching wrap nearing a frantic tickling, Janet looks at the radio clock and her excitement notches up a level as the 06:30 on the clock display reinforces the fact that, possibly, someone else will be doing this to her shortly. A small 'oh' escapes from between her slightly parted lips as effect of her satin tickling, combined with the memory of the phone conversation she had had yesterday, starts to take a hold of her.

+ + +

"Hello? Yes. I'm replying to an advert you ran a few weeks ago in the local paper. Women's Clothing?"

The woman's cultured voice sounded as if she might be quite a bit older than Janet's 28 years. Janet had placed the ad as she really didn't want to just dump the victims of her wardrobe clear-out. She had been disappointed with the lack of response at the time and had now all but forgotten about the listing. The woman's enquiry had come as a bit of a jolt. Taking the call sitting in her favourite soft and comfy armchair she tries to remember what she had listed in the paper.

Recovering herself a little, in her friendliest voice Janet says

"Oh! Well. Yes. Gosh. Hello. Well, it was a little while ago now. What was it that you were looking for? I have pretty much everything that was listed in the ad as no one has called up until now, of course."

There was the slightest of pauses before the woman's voice came down the receiver again.

"Well, I'm hoping you may have anything in satin; a skirt or a blouse or even perhaps a satin slip or two in your collection."

Janet couldn't remember everything she'd included in the ad, but for this enquiry she didn't need to know - she'd never have sold any of her precious satin. She was vaguely aware that her breathing had quickened a little. Talking about satin always had that effect on her and the woman's voice; it was so- so.

Then it hit her.

She realised with a stab of shock - she was reacting to it's soft sound. Even though the woman sounded softly spoken, there was a hint of firmness and Janet was becoming excited listening to it; wanted to hear it again.

Shock was replaced by a rush of fear. All her life Janet had held a longing, something she had never admitted to anyone. Deep inside - for as long as she could remember, the sight of women in satin, especially older women, had excited her. It must be, she supposed, knowing what the fabric did to her; how much the feel and sight of its glossiness turned her on, imagining what it might be doing to women she saw wearing it too. Wondering if they enjoyed touching and caressing themselves through the glistening fabric or whether they too imagined or wanted another woman in satin to touch them through their slippery blouse or skirt or - and she shivered a little at the vision in her mind's eye - their fine satin nightie.

As the fear of the realisation that fate might have presented her with a kindred spirit took hold, she panicked and was about to say that, sorry, no, she didn't have anything when the woman's voice sounded again.

"I really shouldn't. I've so much already. But I-, um, well; it's the really glossy polyester satins I have a particular fondness for. I love the feel of it's smooth silkiness. There's just something about the way it slips against your-"

The woman's voice abruptly stopped. Janet's free hand began unconsciously to rub up and down her torso over the satin of her blouse. She hadn't planned on going out that morning and so had not bothered with a bra, opting instead for a fine satin slip that she knew the satin of this blouse slid really nicely over. Her heart started to speed as the two layers sliding under her caressing, gliding palm began to make her feel that familiar glow.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you that. It was silly of m-. It's just- you - you sounded so ni-. Look, I'm sorry to have disturbed your afternoon"

Janet's feeling of trepidation suddenly turned to outright panic. She was going to go! The woman was going to hang up.

No!

The terror that she possibly might be talking with a woman, a really nice voiced woman, who would like to see her - feel her, in satin, was now replaced by the awful possibility that the opportunity would now be lost forever. Interrupting the woman's, flow Her next hurried words were spoken, before she had thought about what she was doing.

"I-I know just what you mean. It has that effect on me too."

The conversation stalled. In the pause, both women heard the easily discernable, quickened breathing of the other, the sensitive pickups of their respective phones amplifying even the tiniest sound.

After what seemed to be an eternity the woman spoke again, but with deliberate slowness. She seemed to Janet to be choosing her words with care. Her initially confident voice sounding hesitantly nervous

"I'm terrible when it comes to satin. I-I have absolutely no self control. If I'm out shopping in town, I'm awful. I trawl through all the charity shops to see if there's any really unusually s-silky slippery satin items. I can stand there, in a complete world of my own, as I rub the material between my thumb and fingers. But sometimes- sometimes I make a really exciting find."

Janet's slipping hand rubbed her satin layers faster, her shallow breathing now clearly audible.

The woman's voice dropped to almost a conspiratorial whisper. Janet could hear the nervous uncertainty, still, in her voice, unsure, Janet guessed, as to whether she should go on.

"Only the other day I f-found the most beautifully silkily smooth Dior nightie. I knew it was going to feel lovely to wear the moment I saw it. But it wasn't until I- it wasn't until I reached out and touched it that I knew what I'd found. When I rubbed the satin folds into one another, it was as if I was slipping- slipping - well," she paused before finishing the sentence, "slipping natural lubricant between my finger and thumb. D-do you- I know what I mean?"

Janet knew that the woman had just taken a terrible risk. That her last, almost desperate question, sought her affirmation that Janet did know what she meant. She also knew that this was the moment when she should end the conversation - now! She knew that she was becoming excited by this talk of satin and what it did to them when they touched it and when it touched them. But the woman wasn't just talking about the feel of satin; she was talking about satin being like a slippery, excited pussy. Oh, but she sounded so nice, so lovely and so- so- Yes! That was it. Strong. She sounded strong. Janet felt instinctively that the woman behind the voice could take care of everything.

A sudden vision, a picture of this faceless older woman standing in front of her in her shiny Dior satin nightie, Janet's hands gliding over the woman's satin sheathed breasts as the woman's hands found her own glossily enclosed mounds crept into her mind. But instead of the conversation ending she knew she should use, she found herself saying

"It sounds just like the s-satin slip I'm wearing under my glossy satin blouse at the moment. Th-they are so slippery over each other. They're so lovely to wear. I find my fingers slipping the satin of the blouse into the satin of the slip all the time. I just don't seem to be able to stop myself."

Then, knowing this wasn't something she should admit to anyone, she added quietly,

"and- and once, when my husband was at work, I wore the blouse turned inside out over the slip all day at home. They felt so slithery under my fingertips and I was nearly..."

A gasped "oh!" came down the receiver pressed to Janet's ear. Janet found she was shaking so much with the revelation, that the sentence remained unfinished. But it was clear that they both knew the other understood what the nearly was.

The woman didn't speak after her huffed exclamation and Janet didn't know what to do. She could still hear her fast breathing over the phone and thought her admission had shocked her. In a slightly higher voice she asked

"A Dior nightie? I-I am, I mean I would be worried, I'd always thought people didn't give nice things away to charity shops unless they had been damaged."

"Oh no!," The woman immediately responded in a slightly breathy voice, "I find so many marvelous things in fantastic condition. The Dior's like new."

She paused, and then said.

"I know you'd be impressed by it. I'm really proud of the find. Would you like to see it? I see your phone number's the same area as mine so we must be fairly near to one another. I'd love to see if you think it's as nice as I think it is."

Janet's caressing hand saw her fingers slide quickly to one of her hugely swollen nipples, her fingers and thumb pinching the slippery satin of her blouse into the satin of her slip, the satin lubricant making the painfully sensitive bud slip from between the pincher movement causing Janet to let out a small cry involuntarily.

The caller made a shrewd guess as to what had caused the cry she had just heard and, encouraged, pressed on.

"If you would like to meet, I'd be happy to bring over lots of my satin finds. Or, if it would be more convenient, you might visit me. We're the same dress size, I see from your advert, so I bet some of my pieces would look and fee- well, look really- really sexy on you. What do you think?"

Janet's breathing was, by now, nearing panting levels, her finger and thumb pinching her swollen bud over and over between the slipping satin layers.

Janet's voice became very small. "Oh, that sounds like a- hm! like a lovely idea. Yes, I'd like that very much. We could have a satin fashion show, just the two of us. My husband leaves for work very early, about six-thirty, so any time after that, really, would be wonderful. I live at twenty-one Chester Close. Mine's the big house right at the end. Our neighbours are still away for the Christmas break so it's very private at the moment. Oh, my name's Janet."

The caller's voice took on a subtly assertive edge. "Janet. Mine's Trish. Janet, I tend to rise early anyway so, darling, would it be ok, I mean would you mind if I came quite early? Say quarter to seven or a little after. I'm only three streets away from you in Doncaster Avenue so it'll only take a moment to drive over."

Through her cascading libido, Janet tingled at the sudden change in her callers voice, feeling as if she were being softly commanded to obey her elder satin sister and knew she couldn't say no. Darling! She called me darling. Never had the word had such a profound effect on her before. She squeezed at her by now tingling nipples as she answered.

"No, Trish. That's sounds wonderful", she paused then, speaking in an even smaller voice said "but I'll still be dressed in my long cream satin nightie. Will you mind? Will that be ok?"

Janet thought she would orgasm on the spot when she heard Trish's little gasp down the phone.

"Oh darling! Mind? Oh I can't wait until tomorrow now. See you at six-forty five."

As the lined clicked and the dial tone started up Janet realised she was shaking uncontrollably.

She rattled the receiver back onto its hook and then hugged her arms about herself rocking back and forth, legs drawn up, in the armchair.

"What have you done? What have you done?"

Despite her wondering incredulity, she found, as she wiped her palms up and down her satin sleeved upper arms as she rocked, that she was acutely aware of her nipples being rubbed by her silky forearms, their distended swelling protuberance flicking under the wiping motion. She didn't hesitate. She flung open her clasped knees, pulled up the hem of her skirt and pushed both hands to the satin slip beneath, pressing the smooth fabric into the silky material of her full satin panties.

Her fingers instantly found the hard nub of her large clitoris and began a swift, rhythmic caress of the two satin layers and within seconds was screaming with a flooding release, she jamming one arm between her knees so that, although she desperately wanted to squeeze her legs together, her arm prevented them from closing, her fingers still a tickling satin frenzy over her pumping vagina, her hips bucking, her face contorted in ecstasy as she cried her bliss to the heavens in screams pushed out of her with each spasm.

Then her orgasming throbs began to recede, slowing, weakening in their intensity. Her hand, still now, kept a gentle pressure against the satin covered button as she stared, through half lidded eyes, into a new and frightening but terrifyingly exciting tomorrow, her eyelids raising slightly with each weak throb.

"Oh God. What have I done? What have I started?"

Chapter 2. Moonlight passion

Her husband that evening was a little puzzled by her distracted air but put it down to the aftershocks of Christmas. Giving Janet's cheek a good night peck, he said that he was heading off to bed now and that he'd use the spare room so as not to disturb her as he had such an early start in the morning.

Janet showered and changed into her long cream freshly ironed satin nightie and climbed into bed but not before she retrieved the fine satin slip she had worn that day.

Once in bed, she turned the slip inside out and wriggled down under the duvet pushing the bodice of the slip beneath her bottom inside her nightie then pulling the hem of the slip up between her parted legs. She then spread the garment, pulling at the two seams to ensure it was completely smooth, and stretched it up over her body, gently pushing the slips two layers between her legs so it covered her throbbing lips with their slick frictionless slitheriness, being careful to push it into the creases either side in just the right way so that there was a large fold of layered satin that she could slide and slip in between. Then, satisfied, she pulled the hem of her softly slippery nightie down, taking care not to disturb the arrangement of the slip underneath.

Turning off the bedside lamp, the room became flooded with pale blue moonlight where she has pulled back the curtains. Janet throws off the duvet knowing she's safe from discovery as her husband falls asleep very quickly and that once asleep nothing can rouse him. Her glossy nightie gleams from the stark light of the moon. Looking at the sight, her breathing begins to quicken as, lying straight, she slowly slides her feet apart. Keeping her movements as slow as she can, she brings both hands to the top of her thighs and carefully pushes the skirt of her satin nightie down between her legs, over the top of the doubled over slip.

"Hmm!"

The contact with the satins grips her immediately and her hands continue to roam now between the insides of her stretched legs, using just her fingertips to lightly, so lightly, caress the satin of her nightie into her skin. Up and then back down she trails her fingertips over her lovely glossy satin, each sweep a sweet agony of self deprivation as she doesn't allow her touch to travel to where she most wants to feel it.

"Ooh!"

Her drawn out trembling sigh only serves to heighten her excitement as she traces up over her quivering stomach up to her protruding nipples where her fingers circle round and round their base just brushing the sides of the tingling tips. Her hips start to gyrate in small movements as the sex of caressing digs deeper into her need. She can feel the satin slip sliding and pulling over the swelling lips of her vagina and instantly grips both rigid nipples between her fingers and thumbs.

"Argh! Oh oh ooh!"

Her hips wriggle down into the mattress and she squirms her bottom into the slick, glossy layers of the slip pushed under her cheeks, feeling her skin glide against its slippery layers and she can feel the slip sliding too against the silky underside of her cream nightie.

Nipples throbbing from her pinching the satin bodice into them, she twists her head to the side, eyes closed in surrender to the desperate need to feel her fingers between her legs. With her last vestige of failing self control, she lets her hands drop away from their attention of her aching nipples the fingers rubbing slightly more firmly in small circles as they travel back down her satin encased body excruciatingly slowly, the extra pressure allowing her to encourage the satin slips glossy layers to slip over each other as her fingers descend. She can feel her vagina pulsing, throbbing with sex, feels the liquid seeping between her lips to be soaked up by the slips satin rubbing her there.

"Oh Trish. Please. Yes there, just there. Oh kiss me, don't stop, please kiss me over and over as you touch me there, touch my soaking satin pussy"

At last she feels her circling fingertips reach her mound above her there and pauses for one exquisite moment longer before her fingers slide over and down the satin to feel the wetness proper for the first time as her fingers slide the slips layers one over the other into her engorged clitoris and labia.

"Aaargh! Ooooh, Trish Trish Trish! Yes, oh yes, darling. Pleeeeeease"

Her fingers now seem to be charged with a life of their own as they wriggle and tickle over her spasming pussy, one hands fingers flicking the slip around and around the hard nub of her budding clitoris the other pushing between the sodden lips of her swollen pussy.

Desperately, she pulls at her nightie, tugging it up up, raising her hips to help her hands clear the hem up over them. On lowering her hips again she peddles her feet up towards her and parts her knees wide so her pussy is stretched open under the now sodden doubled layer of satin of her slip. Immediately her hands return to their original tasks, and she gasps even louder now as the feeling of the outline of her clitoris and pussy lips are more clearly defined with the layers of satin now reduced, the slips layers somehow feeling even more slippery now that the nightie is out of the way.