A Literotica reader who sent me feed back on my story 'Camping with Anna' presented me with this challenge.
"I want to see you write a story which is completely fictional. It's more difficult than writing something based on events that actually happened, but you have complete free rein, and can explore your hidden depths and fantasies."
Well I'm always up for a challenge so here goes. This is a fantasy from my hidden depths. I hope you enjoy it.
The story takes up where 'Blackmailed' left off, with Stephanie's mother, Claire, getting involved. If you haven't already done so you may want to read 'Blackmailed' first, but it is not essential.
When you have read it please vote and leave your comments on Literotica. I appreciate you letting me know what you think of my stories, even if you don't like them.
Ingenue
xx
The doorbell rang as I stepped out of the shower. I was naked and dripping wet. Grabbing a towel, I quickly dried myself and slipped on some shorts and a t-shirt.
It was Monday morning and as I walked to the door I noticed by the clock on the microwave that it was nearly eleven. It was my day off so I'd slept late and I wasn't expecting anyone.
The bell rang again, impatiently this time.
Curious, I opened the door and saw Claire, my neighbour who lives across the street.
"Oh shit!" was my immediate reaction on seeing her standing there. Almost instantly this was replaced by a more rational response, sheer panic.
Somehow she must have found out what had happened the previous day. There was no other reason for her to be standing at my front door that morning, or at least there was no other reason that I could think of.
She had never been to my house before and we were hardly close friends. As neighbours we see each other in the street, occasionally stoping to chat, and we wave to each other in passing, but that's about it.
But it didn't make any sense. Something was wrong. If she knew what had happened surely she would be as mad as hell, but instead she looked calm, relaxed and exceedingly beautiful.
Her smile was warm and infectious and her blue eyes sparkled. Her lemon yellow bikini bottoms and contrasting pale blue crop top complemented perfectly her shoulder length blond hair and light golden tan.
"Good Morning Catherine. How are you today?" she said, extending a hand.
I smiled and my hand went out automatically to meet hers. Her grip was warm and firm and I found it pleasantly comforting and reassuring.
Without letting go of my hand she turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder towards the sky - as if to make sure she wasn't mistaken - and added, "It's a great day isn't it?"
My mind was spinning. The answers to her questions were simple and obvious. I was feeling great and yes, it was a beautiful day, but somehow I found it impossible to say the words. They just wouldn't come.
All I could think about was what I had done, or perhaps more correctly what I had allowed her nineteen year old daughter, Stephanie to do to me the day before.
Images of the previous afternoon when Stephanie and two of her friends, Nikki and Alice, blackmailed me played like a video in my mind.
There was the revealing photos, the embarrassing video, the swimming pool, my discarded bikini, a bottle of suntan lotion, me naked on the sun lounge by the pool masturbating in front of the three girls, my short, arousing naked walk across the street, followed by that wonderful orgasm.
My mouth was dry and I could feel colour rising in my cheeks. Surely she could see my obvious embarrassment and awkwardness.
I stood there holding Claire's hand telling myself to settle, calm down and deal with it. After all, even if she knew, what could she really do?
It seemed like an eternity, but somehow I eventually managed what I hoped was a relaxed, confident smile that suggested I didn't have a care in the world, and replied hopefully.
"Hi Claire, I'm fine thanks. Yes it is a great morning."
Her expression didn't change but I noticed her eyes drop to my breasts. I glanced down and saw that the water dripping from my hair had soaked my t-shirt and that my nipples were clearly evident through the now semi transparent material.
"Oh s-s-sorry," I stammered, "I'd just got out of the shower when the doorbell rang and I didn't have time...." My voice trailed off, unsure what else to say.
Claire smiled and laughed.
"That's okay Catherine. Look I won't keep you long. Stephanie mentioned that you dropped over yesterday. I'm sorry I wasn't home and I was wondering if you'd like to come over later today. Robert is away on business and Stephanie has gone out with friends. Come for lunch and, if you like, we can have a swim."
It seemed I was safe, at least for the time being, and perhaps all Stephanie had told her mother was that I called over to see her, which, although not actually a lie, was, thankfully, the whole truth.
It was a beautiful summer day and as I didn't have anything else planned for the afternoon I decided to accept her invitation. I really wanted to get to know her better, and I was more than just a little curious to see if she had any suspicions about my visit to her house the day before. I confess that I was also hoping that it might be an opportunity to see Stephanie again.
I didn't need to manufacture the smile this time. I was beginning to feel very comfortable with her and was enjoying the contact between us - she was still holding my hand.
"Thanks Claire, that would be great," I said. "What time would you like me to come over?"
She smiled again as if pleased by my acceptance and consulted her watch.
"How about in an hour? We can have a swim and I'll make a salad."
"That's perfect. I'll just get a bit organised here and be over around midday."
I was a little disappointed when she released my hand and turned to walk away. I stood in the doorway, watching her, admiring her slim figure, long legs and cute, round ass, that was barely contained by her tiny bikini bottoms.
I guessed she was in her late thirties or early forties. She was tall and slim with shoulder length blonde hair and from what I saw under her crop top, quite large, firm breasts.
When she reached her front door she turned, smiled and waved. She knew I'd been watching her and I felt a flush of embarrassment at being caught out.
I waved back, stepped inside and hurriedly closed the door. For the first time I realised that it wasn't embarrassment that was causing me to be a bit hot and flustered, it was excitement - excitement at the prospect of spending the afternoon with my gorgeous, sexy neighbour.
I went to my bedroom, slipped off my shorts and wet t-shirt and looked at myself in the mirror.
"Not too bad," I thought.
I am tall with a slim, boyish figure. My mum thinks I am a bit skinny and is always nagging me to put on some weight - but aren't all mums like that?
I have long dark hair, brown eyes, a warm smile and a great butt. My skin has a light golden hue from many lazy days spent at the beach sunbathing.
As I observed myself in the mirror, my thoughts turned to Claire. I didn't know her very well, even though she moved into the house across the road about a year ago.
From our brief chats when we occasionally saw each other in the street I knew she was some sort of scientist and worked for a pharmaceutical company, but didn't know exactly what she did.
Her husband, Richard, was the CEO of a large multinational company based in Adelaide. He appeared to be a bit older than she is, and at a guess I would say was in his mid-fifties. He was tall and, for his age, appeared to be in good shape. A lot of women would probably consider him to be handsome and quite sexy.
One thing was obvious, and that is that they were rich. Their house was the best in the street, maybe even the best in the neighbourhood. It was a huge, modern two-story, on a large block and as I had found out the day before was beautifully furnished with all the latest and most expensive furniture and appliances. They had a fantastic pool and the garden was landscaped like the ones you see from time to time in the glossy magazines.
Clare's car was my dream car, a black Porsche 911, which she drove fast and with confidence.
Their daughter Stephanie was nineteen. Those for you who have read 'Blackmailed' will know exactly what I mean when I say that I had got to know her quite a bit better only the day before.
The memories what happened at their house the previous afternoon brought a warm rush to my loins, threatening to distract me and make me late getting to Claire's, so I reluctantly pushed my thoughts aside and set about getting ready to go out.
I checked the clock; it was already ten minutes to twelve. I quickly tidied my room and got out a selection of bikinis, laying them out on the bed. After some deliberation I chose my favourite black one, put it on, got a towel, some sunscreen and a hat, and put my keys in my purse.
I checked that the cat had water, that everything was switched off and set the alarm. Satisfied, I stepped out, closed the door, walked a cross the road to Claire's and rang the bell.
As I waited on her porch I was aware of a growing sense of excitement but was having second thoughts about the tiny bikini I had chosen to wear. My breasts are very small but the top barely contained them and I needed to constantly adjust it to keep my nipples covered. The bottom part was simply small g-string. I hadn't bothered to wear anything else over the top of my bathers and suddenly I felt very exposed.
I wondered what Claire would think of me arriving at her house wearing such a skimpy, revealing outfit and briefly considered dashing home to get a top or a wrap when there was a noise at the door. It was too late. The door opened and Claire greeted me with a warm smile, and stepped aside to let me in.
She looked sensational. Her blonde hair was wet and tied back in a ponytail. She had changed her bikini. The yellow one was gone and in its place was a tiny white string bikini, almost as small and revealing as my own. The tiny top barely contained her large, round breasts and the bottoms were so small I could see that, like me, she shaved.
