I was, am the typical English housewife, and devoted mother. Typical of many of the mothers you see in the shopping centres of the United Kingdom. I never thought of myself as stunningly beautiful. But neither did I consider myself ugly. However, 2006 was a huge turning point in my life. Looking back, 18 months on, I started 2006 as a typical woman, wife I guess, though how do you define typical? I was then 30, having been married to my husband, who is slightly older then me, for 5 years, and was, am, the mother of a lovely son then aged 3, who I adored, as I did my husband. We would spend weekends walking with him in the local parks, still very much in love. We both worked, my husband in IT, and I in science research, which was rather flexible and really helpful to a young mother.
As I said, 2006 was a changing point in our relationship, but more importantly in my life. My husband, was, still is a member of the British volunteer reserve forces. In late January, he received an envelope, as did many others from his unit, requesting him to support the current operations in Iraq. Obviously I did not want him to go, and he was apprehensive. But he had been in the volunteer reserve forces since he was at university, and had enjoyed the benefits, and now he reasoned it was pay back time. However, more importantly, he knew his men needed him, and he needed them. They had trained as a team, and as a team leader, he felt obliged to go, and so in March, he left for a six-month tour.
The first two months or so seemed pretty easy, getting emails and phone calls from him regularly. Work too was being helpful, and so whilst looking after Zac was at times hard work, I was able to cope, until that fateful day in May when I had a phone call from the nursery he had started to attend.
There had been an accident at the nursery, and several of the children in their care had been injured, a gas boiler explosion or something. I was not sure of the details as I dropped the phone, and ran literally from work and into my car, driving in a rush to hospital. He was okay, but would require days, if not weeks in hospital while he recovered, though the prognosis was for a full recovery. He started to recover well, and was soon up and about looking the cheeky boy that he was.
For the following month or so, I was at the hospital every afternoon/evening, working mornings, before heading over to see him mid afternoons, and leaving him in the evening, heading home, to my solitary bed, an extra large gothic wrought iron bed, that was spacious with two, on my own I often felt lost. Often I would lay there in my bed, despite my body being tired; my mind would be very active, wondering if Zac would recover, whether my husband would return from Iraq. Even if I was not initially aroused, during those lonely days and weeks, I found the best cure for my insomnia was a good orgasm, a good cum, once I woke up with the small vibe still inside me...
Guess I should tell you about my sexuality. I was straight; I had never looked at a woman, though as with most girls I guess I had briefly been curious about sex with another girl, another female. But the thought was soon dismissed, and I was happy with my sex life, especially with Adrian. We were, maybe still are, what I would consider open minded sexually. Whilst neither of us was into Pain, Domme/sub lifestyles or anything else like that, we were more adventurous then the plain vanilla sex that many peopled seem to indulge in. We used toys, would play games, and we both enjoyed tie and tease, and apparently the technical term is a switch, we were both switches; enjoying being teased and doing the teasing. That was one of the reasons why we had that bed, the iron frame allowed silk restraints, or used stockings to be used to tie the victim to the bed. For me in particular, lingerie and clothing could, did play an important part in our sex life, and another use for the corner posts, hanging up in use bras to air in between wearing.
I liked then, and I still do, to dress in a smart manner, rather then a 'slut' style appearance. My figure was, is slender but with curves, and I dress to accentuate those curves, but with a sexual elegance. Whilst I have short 'mini-skirts'; I prefer to wear longer skirts with revealing slits. I prefer to wear blouses of pastel shades, light, and wear a complementary darker bra underneath, like a deep blue bra under a pale blue blouse. If I wore a plunging neckline, I would wear a lace camisole, the lace obscuring my cleavage. Guess I like to tease, as a lot of us do, but in a more refined manner. Another fetish that I inherited from my husband was boots. He loved to see me wearing knee high boots, and would buy them for me as presents or gifts.
During those first few weeks of his time in hospital, I was befriended by a petite nurse, who I shall call Liz. She was slightly taller then myself, and of a similar age. She was soon friendly towards me, and over a period of time, we developed, well at the time a rapport, but I guess with hindsight it was something more. Alas, again with the benefit of hindsight, it is obvious now that may be she wanted more, then a professional relationship, friendship which was what I was expecting; wanted, nothing more. Even though she was always kind, polite, and very complimentary, I wish Adrian would pay as many compliments as Liz did.
As the days went by, I saw Liz almost daily, and a couple of times we ended up in the coffee bar at the hospital, as I bought her a coffee and thanked her for all her support to us both during what had been a difficult time. We would sit there, talking about our lives, careers. Finally I heard the news that I wanted, that Zac would be released on Friday, and that I was to make arrangements to collect him and take him home.
Shortly after I was given the news, I saw Liz, in her uniform. As we hugged, I felt her hand lightly caress my bum, I am sure, but in the excitement I do not fully recall much except it felt slightly odd. In the moment, I asked her for dinner, maybe at my place, or a restaurant, and she accepted my offer to visit my place, and Wednesday night was agreed. I left the hospital feeling on top of the world, the slightly odd caress during the embrace had slipped my mind completely.
For the supper, I had decided on a simple pasta based meal, something that was fresh, and quick to prepare upon my return from hospital. And not long after I had finished preparing it, the door bell rang, and it was Liz, looking rather wonderful. I had not really appreciated her simple yet pretty face, and almost for the first time I had seen her out of her uniform. She had chosen to wear a wrap over top and skirt, the plunging neckline of her top revealing the delicate curves of her breasts. Some how, I found it striking, maybe out of place, but maybe she was heading out afterwards?
We got chatting, and out came a bottle of wine, and we had the starter, to keep in the Italian theme, I had prepared fresh mozzarella cheese, and beef tomato. I cleared up, and returned, from the kitchen with the main course, and again sat down, and started to talk, eat. It was the first time I had really drank since Zac had been admitted to hospital, and very quickly started to feel the effects, or so I thought, but I continued to eat, and talk, feeling generally relieved, Zac was coming home, as was my husband, who had been able to bring forward his leave on compassionate grounds. He had offered to try and come home earlier, but with Zac in hospital, I suggested that coming home when Zac was out was more sensible, so we both could spend time with him.
The rest of the evening, was, is still slightly vague, though I did find out why. After we had finished eating, we continued to talk, before I suggested we move over to the sofa, which she agreed was more comfortable. However, as I stood, I felt my knees give way, falling almost into Liz's arms, grip as she supported me to the sofa, and helped me to lie down on the sofa, my back supported by pillows, cushions.
My eyes were fogged up, my head seeing double, as I lay back on the sofa, hearing her worlds of support, before I heard the clatter of crockery, cutlery being cleared. My eyes closed briefly. How long, I feinted, slept I am not sure, but I soon felt her tender touch, and her caress, as she started to talk to me. I cannot recall what she said totally, but they were full of compliments, telling me how pretty I was...
I closed my eyes again, feeling strange, groggy, my legs rather weak, as did my arms; I felt her lips on mine, a soft probing kiss, and I tried to push her away, but my arms too had no strength. I wanted to scream, to shout, but again I had no strength, and that her lips were on mine, slightly arousing, in hindsight. The remainder of the evening was, still is a blur...
