Sandra

*****

the ravings of a lunatic. copyright H20wader. Edited by techsan. I had added material after the edit, all errors are mine alone.

The top story was written when I first starting writing for the LIT site. I wanted to post it in the Lesbian Sex section just to see what comments it would bring. But it seemed to call for a response. I finally wrote a response and got it edited.

First Sandra then James

*****

I had known James all my life, but at a distance. We were both children of the founding fathers of the Great Lakes Bank and Trust. The first time I remembered meeting him, he pulled my hair. I cried. After that, he seemed to stay away for me. He lived in Birmingham. I lived in Grosse Point Shores. For those of you not familiar, let me say the difference was Old Money in the Points and new money out there in the west. There was a difference.

My high school was Dominican. His was Catholic Central. My college was Siena Heights, also Dominican. His college was the University of Michigan-Dearborn. His major was pre-law. Mine was art history. He attended the University of Michigan Law School. I found a position at the Detroit Institute of Arts, The DIA.

My life had always been rather easy. College was no different. I had found early in my life that boys were rude, crude and lewd. High school and college did not change that opinion. If anything, it just solidified it. As a classmate at Siena said, 'Boys and Men just want to get into a tight Catholic virgin pussy.' They did not get into mine. They did get into hers, quite often. She was on the pill but still had two abortions in her fours years at Siena.

My position at the DIA was to assist in the receiving of incoming art works, catalogue them, store then temporarily until they went on display. When the time came to close the exhibit, they were repacked for their next destination. It was good, almost clean, and fun work. The money was not that great, but I lived at home. My father had given me a car at graduation so I had all I needed. I had been there for six months when things in my life changed.

The exhibit was Old Dutch Masters. There was a formal party for the Opening Night for those sponsors who had given an ample amount of money to the DIA. I was dressed in a new evening gown. The color matched my eyes. I was in charge of insuring that all food on nine tables in three areas were replaced as needed and of course to chat with Patrons. Drinks were at a cash bar or if the Patron had given enough money and had the pass the drinks were free. Enough in this case was over $25,000 in the preceding year. Some checks were written that night to insure passes. Passes were the way to tell the people with real money.

I soon found that the caterers were professional and need no prodding or checking. I relaxed and chatted with the Patrons. Fun and easy, art is easy to talk about.

A very tall man in a tuxedo approached me. He had a very nice smile, and he looked familiar.

"Hello, Sandra." It took me several seconds.

"James McCleary. I have not seen you in years. How are you doing?"

"Just over three years, Sandra. And I have joined our fathers' bank."

"Yes, I do recall father mentioning that at the diner table. I am sure they were lucky to get you."

"I am lucky my dad could get me in," He had a nice laugh. "I actually came here tonight to invite you to the play at the Fisher Theater, and of course to see these wonderful old paintings again."

"I had planned on attending. Yes, James, it should be fun. I do so love My Fair Lady."

"I do have tickets for Wednesday night. Would you prefer dinner before or after?"

"After, please, I will have to go home to change and have a snack."

"Then I will pick you up at seven at your house, the curtain rises at eight."

"Excellent."

We spent the remainder of the night just chatting. We walked around discussing the Old Dutch Masters. I was pleasantly surprised that he was so well versed in art. He was intelligent, witty in a sensible way (nothing crude, no double meanings), and he was dressed well. The tuxedo was tailored for him. He was a perfect gentleman. The only time he touched me was when one of the several of the children at the opening ran into me. He held my arm and stabilized me.so that I did not fall.

We began to date. You know the usual; theaters, movies, trips to the casino in Windsor, Ontario, music and dance recitals of the children of friends of the families, dinners with my friends from the DIA, picnics with his friends from the Bank. He seemed to fit in everywhere. I was impressed with his social skills. I was not impressed with some of his friends. Bill Ramsey for one. At a indoor pool party for people he knew from the bank, this Bill Ramsey actually asked James if he was sleeping with me.

I Was Standing There!!

James told him very quickly and harshly that one did not speak that way in front of me. There did seem to be a certain friendliness between the two of the earlier in the day. That was why I rarely drank. I fear what I might become.

He had kissed me many times, he was very skilled in kissing, and he was very skilled in moving his hands when he was kissing me. Often to stop this behavior, I would have to stop the kissing. Once he got his hand in my bra. I was shocked. But he just laughed at me.

"What will you do when we are married?" Now I was very shocked. Where had this come from? Married? Me? Marry him?

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"No, but I will as soon as I know the answer is yes."

"What if the answer is no?"

"Then I will not ask you. I will warn you that our families already have the wedding list prepared."

"They may be expecting things that may not occur. I am not sure I want to marry."

He just laughed again and slid his hand back into my bra. It was almost exciting. My nipples were firm. It did not feel bad and we continued to date. He was working his way up my thighs on our next date. It seemed that all the decisions were made; all he had to do was convince me to open my legs let him have a sample and then marry him.

Earlier that spring things changed again. The DIA had The Old Dutch Masters for a year and we had sent them on to San Diego. We were aware that another round of great paintings was expected from the Louvre in Paris, The Old Flemish Masters. I was asked to allow the traveling representative of the Louvre to stay with me. It seemed a good idea. She would be a young woman in a strange city. It would be easier for her if she had a ready home and a friend. I agreed and waited for the paintings and Nicole d' Oryes to arrive. She arrived first. On the 15th of May, she landed at Detroit Metropolitan Airport. I picked her up in my car, a Dodge mini-van. I had a sign with Nicole written on it. She was one of the last off the plane. She was talking to a rather nondescript older man and seemed to be having a grand time. She saw the sign and after her luggage was loaded, by the skycaps, we were heading for my home .

"Was the trip tiring?" A safe start for conversation.

"Not at all." She was French, the accent was unmistakable. "I met the most darling man. Since I had no idea of the phone number where I would be staying, he gave me his."

"That should work well." Maybe she was better equipped to handle a strange city than I was led to believe.

"I will certainly call him. As soon as he sees his wife and settles down from the trip, he will get a call from me. Is there a quiet out of the way restaurant where we may have dinner?"

Dinner? Out of the way? Quiet? Wife?

"But he is married."

"And I am not. But I do have a man, Jacques, in Paris who wants to marry me and keep me in a townhouse. I want to wait a while for that, he will want babies and I want to play first."

I was driving, it was difficult to look at her, but look, I did. I already knew she was taller than I, about five six to my five foot even. I had a figure. She seemed painfully thin, almost boyish. Her hair was a violent red. She wore too much makeup. The eyes were not green, not brown, hazel? From the looks of the blouse, there was very little underneath it. She was not pretty. Yet, a married man was going to meet her in a quiet out of the way place for dinner. And she had just arrived in the country. Her chatter continued, she was very talkative about her past, her lovers (all married men, it seemed.) and her plans for the time she would be in the States. If she was to be believed, she was going to date a lot, have sex a lot and it would all be paid for by married men, plus various gifts.

I found this woman fascinating. She was living life as large as she could and enjoying it. Suddenly, I was jealous. I had been comfortable with my life. Now, very suddenly I was a mouse to this high-flying brightly colored bird. The suit I had so carefully chosen to meet her was now a rag. I was shocked at the way she talked, the way she lived. I felt like the stupid stepsister at the ball with Cinderella.

She talked constantly while we traveled to my home. I had the gardener help with the nine bags she had. Or as she said, "just enough to get by." I hoped it was enough, eight of the bags were huge.

She did request a bath. Very reasonable after the long trip. I showed her the bedroom. The gardener finally got all of the bags placed in the room. She striped in front of me, still talking.

"I will never have sex on a plane again. I should have learned that by now. It was no more comfortable than the other times. The bathrooms are too small."

Sex? Bathroom? Plane? What had the DIA wished upon me? Well, I was committed. She would be here for six months. I suddenly had doubts about this, serious doubts. Very serious doubts.

"See anything you like?"

What? I realized I was staring at her. All bones and angles, the hair on her vagina was trimmed into a strip an inch wide strip about two inches long and only just touched the top of the lips. It was as red as the hair on her head. The lips were completely bare and very red and puffy. She was naked!

I was embarrassed. I could not speak. The next words were even worse. "Would you like to bathe with me?"

Try stunned. Try shocked. It seemed more like a challenge. The way she said it, it sounded like a dare. She was a loud French Woman and I was a mouse. Well, I can bathe with anyone.

"Why not? I will fill the tub," I was out of my mind. Grown women did not bathe together. Shower maybe, but bathe?

I removed my garments. I was nude-she was naked. I knew the difference. She watched me. Her looking at me while I undressed made me blush. I was flushed red but I was able not to look at her as I removed my clothes. I wondered what she would think of my pubic hair, it wasn't even combed.

The water was running in the tub. It was a very large tub. It had been in that same place for over one hundred years. It had been made for a rather large man and his rather large mistress. It would hold both us quite easily. She brought some bottles to the tub.

"Bubble bath," she said as she poured. "And oil for the body" she poured again. "And fragrance for the soul," she poured from a third bottle. The tub quickly filled with aromatic bubbles. It was a sweet but strong scent. Nicole eased into the hot steaming bubbles. Her breasts were so tiny. Just small bumps with nipples. My B-cups looked huge in comparison.

Filled with not fear, not panic, worry? yes, worry. What was I doing? I slipped into the tub.

She pushed me so that she was sitting behind me. Her legs were wrapped around my hips She picked up a wash cloth. "Scoot forward, I will start with your back."

The last time anyone had given me a bath was my father, when I was six years old. It was a business-like thing. He got me clean and out of the tub. The way Nicole was washing me we would be here forever.

"Lean back." She reached around me and started on the front. I could feel those tiny breasts against my back. Her nipples were so hard it felt like they should be hurting me. Suddenly, I was alert, awake, aroused. My breasts were heavier, tighter; the nipples were protruding, blood red, and were as hard as pebbles. They were never like this before. My breathing was faster. She washed my breasts; she was playing with my nipples.

"Later when the soap is all gone I want to kiss those wonderful nipples."

What was she saying? What was happening? Why was I letting this happen? I was pushed gently and spun around in the old fashioned and long ago lovers' tub. She was washing my legs.

She worked up slowly, the knees, the thighs. She reached me. She lost the cloth; and used her fingers! I have masturbated, but I was clumsy, she was an expert. I opened my legs wider, she opened my lips and explored me. She dipped into my wetness.

"Oh, my god, Sandra, you are a virgin. I can feel the hymen."

I think I moaned. She found the nub and caressed it while bouncing two fingers off my hymen. I pushed my hips toward her.

"Easy, Sandra. A hymen should be broken by a lover and a cock."

I did not care; all I wanted was more of what she was doing. I grunted and groaned and I climaxed. It was not like the fumbling I had done over the years. It was all I could do not to scream. As I slowly became aware of what had happened, I was scared to death. I was a freak. I was having sex with a woman. I was .... feeling very good, thank you. It was the best I had ever had. It was the only I ever had. She was washing herself quickly. She washed her vagina very well, using her hands to push water inside herself. I learned later that was so I would not taste my first semen from her. She wanted it to be from the male tube. She released the water. She sprayed us with the shower attachment. She sprayed water directly into herself. She dried us off with the huge fluffy towels and she half carried me to the bed. She kissed me. James was a good kisser, but she was far and away better. Nothing hard like James. No hard kisses, just sweet gentle kisses all over my face. She bit my ears, easily, gently. Then she moved to my breasts.

"Oh, yes, look at these. How lovely, how big. Sandra, you have beautiful breasts and the hardest nipples."

Then she filled her mouth and was quiet. I had passed through heaven and was quickly approaching Nirvana. Every nerve in my body was screaming. My nipples were sucked, licked, kissed and hurting from all the blood they were filled with. My breasts were aching. There were rolling spasms in my vagina. I was having an orgasm, my very first orgasm inside my body and all she did was kiss my breasts. She moved down, kissing every inch of me. Centuries later her tongue opened my lips. I had no idea that anything could ever be this good. I was lifting my hips and the tremors started. When she touched me there, Oh, My God. She eased fingers into the wet canal, Oh ,Yes, Yes, Yes. She seemed to be taking forever. I just wanted more.

Her lips closed around my small nub and she moved. I opened my eyes; she was right there. I could see inside her. There were tiny drops of moisture seeping from her. I reached out with my tongue to touch. It was like candy. I filled my mouth with her warm sweetness. I found her clitoris and her hips moved. I tickled it with my lips and tongue. I could hear her moaning or was that me. We exploded in a frenzy of orgasms.

An adventure once started must run its course. We had six months together. Every day was a learning experience for me. Each night was a loving experience. Even during our monthlies, she would hold me and suck my nipples until I screamed. She taught me how to do that to her.

She was a very good teacher. I learned how to make it last and last. We would take each other so close and ease off and let it build. When we came it was like the world turning inside out. I fell in love with her, I wanted her. She wanted me, she dated men. I wanted her, but I dated James. She dated; all of the men were married.

Nicole explained it to me.

"Married men want to have sex. They want no problems, so they are nicer. They are less demanding. They feel honored to have just a blow job. They will often have gifts, the richer they are, the better the gifts. They are attentive. They are caring about no babies. They will use the condom. They do not want to take anything back to the wife. They will use the tongue even after sex if I ask them. If I do not see the same married man more than three times, he will not come to believe that he wants to leave his wife and marry me. If he is very good lover I will give him the three times. If he is a poor lover he only gets once. The good lovers are the ones I do not have to ask to clean me after sex."

In the six months she was my house guest, she dated40 married men. I count them. Several were patrons at the DIA. She always cleaned herself before she came to our bed make love with me. She always tasted like the first time. Moist, wet, pure sweetness. most of her gifts were jewelry. She gave some of it to me. Once at work a Patron saw me with a diamond necklace. He blanched but said nothing. He had given the necklace to Nicole just two weeks earlier .

After just a month of Nicole, I was letting James use his fingers on me. I insisted that he not break the hymen. He was good with his hands, Nicole was wonderful. He used his mouth; he was good but he was only half of Nicole. he did give me small climaxes, nut nothing like Nicole. He wanted me to please him with my mouth. I talked it over with Nicole. I talked everything over with Nicole.

"Nicole, He want me let him put that thingy inside my mouth."

"Men like that as much as we do, Sandra. Maybe even more, but I really doubt that."

"Nicole, he is very, very big."

She grinned, "How big?" I held my hands apart.

"If he were that big, he would be a horse." She was giggling.

"I swear, Nicole, I swear he is."

"Measure him."

"Nicole!!!!!"

"Do not worry. To get a blow job, he will let you paint it blue and hang a flag on it and let you take pictures of it, " Suddenly she was laughing. "Sandra, dear, you will marry this man?"

"Our families want it, he wants it."

"But do you want it?" I wanted to tell her I loved her. I want to be with her but she was going back to Paris.

"I will marry him. He is a good man."

"I see. When?"

"Will you come back from Paris for the wedding?"

"Oh, yes, Sandra. I will come back two weeks before the wedding. I will make love with you every night before the wedding. Then I will return to Paris while the honeymoon takes place." She giggled. It was like music, rising and falling with tones and overtones and undertones. It lifted me, made me feel better.

"I will marry him in November of next year. That will give the families the time to do it."

On our next date, I measured Robert following Nicole's instructions. From the belly straight out. getting to his belly in that tangled mass of hair was a chore. Nicole and I were shaving all the hair away. It was so smooth and easy to kiss. Find the biggest part of him and measure around. I used a cloth tape that was 12 inches long.

"Nicole, he is just over eight and one half inches long. He is just over seven and three quarter inches around."

She stared at me. "Oh, my dear little Nicole. Your sweet little virgin pussy is in for a rough ride until you get used to that. This is how you must do it. Do not wait until you are married. He will then have at you for days. That will be very hard for you to do. Let him have you one time, then five days later one time, then four days then three then go away for a weekend. Do not let him run amuck on that weekend. You will walk a bit funny for the first times but that will work. That is the way Jacques did me. Of course, your James is bigger, but I was only 14 at the time. Make sure that you wait until all pain is gone before you let him in again."