This is a story about my boyfriend's mother and me, just as much as it is a story about how I became who I am, a bisexual who loves BDSM. Well, in truth I am probably a hetero girl who likes other girls, who likes to play with them and likes them to play with me. In truth I like men, I like their bodies, their hard penises and the things that they do to me. But for now, this is a story of how I discovered the glory of soft curves, of a woman's touch, of her silky places and how I came to enjoy and even look forward to being seduced by other women.
*
When summer came Dylan's mother invited me to holiday with her in the Mediterranean. I thought that it was a great idea, assuming that I would be spending most of my time with Dylan. But Dylan was not invited. I waited at the station but Dylan never came. When I declared that Dylan was going to miss the train Martha, Dylan's Mother told me he wasn't coming, that it was just us, a holiday for us girls. I was a little shocked. But I didn't disembark, I just stood by the door looking out through the little window as normality passed me by. I didn't know it then, but I was going on a journey that would change me forever.
I was on my way to Greece with my boyfriend's mother. For me the entire venture was straight forward enough, safe, however, I never knew that Martha was a complete sexual deviant. Later I found out that she gave Byron his first head job as an eighteenth birthday present and that was just the start, Martha had no limits.
We had only just surfaced in France when Martha introduced the topic that they would be bound to for the remainder of their holiday. Sex and sexual fulfillment, the things that a young women needed to know about men and about themselves before they committed to marriage. At first I feared the onset of an arcane sex talk, something guaranteed to ruin my vacation. Little did I know that Martha had experienced virtually every sexual activity imaginable, enjoyed sex daily and more importantly believed that sex was the gateway to eternal happiness.
The train ambled through the mountains, swaying gently as Martha asked me to describe my sexual experience. I could feel the heat rise in my face as my embarrassment overcame me. Martha smiled and said,
'I assume that you are a virgin. Am I correct?'
'Well I don't think that...' I tried to avoid answering without being rude.
'Am I correct?' Martha's directness was underlined with a stern tone.
'Yes... Yes I am.' Was all I could say.
'It is unusual for a girl your age, but it is all the better for you. There is nothing worse for a healthy sex life than developing bad habits, getting used to lazy, lay back sex or learning to be satisfied with less than wonderful erotic adventures.'
I was so embarrassed, I just sat there with my knees together, my hands in my lap and my eyes lowered.
'Oh, come now, don't be shy girl. There is only one thing better than being a virgin, and that is being sexually emancipated, free to enjoy everything that your body and your partner's body has to offer. And believe me anything less than sexual satisfaction should be considered a crime against our humanity.'
I had always been interested in sex. I had peeked into the showers once or twice when we were at camp, and even looked at some blue movies, but Martha was Dylan's mother. If she was closer to my age, like an older sister maybe I would have been happy to chat but this just seemed wrong.
To my surprise I started to feel more relaxed. Martha started telling me about a boy she knew when she was sixteen, how he was madly in love with her, how she flirted with him and how she made him wait. Martha told me how when her eighteenth birthday came round she took him by the hand and raced round to a little shed behind the barn. She told me how fast her heart was beating, how she could hardly breath, how she pushed the young man to his knees, lay back opened her legs and pressed his sweet face in between her legs. She said it still made her pussy tingle to think of how he licked her, how from licking her virgin sex he came in his pants. She never told me his name or that he was her brother. She never told me that she went into his room every night and squatted over his face so that he could kiss her goodnight, or that he was only ever allowed to tough her with his mouth. Had she have told me I would have ran, ran away as fast as I could, but she didn't tell me. The way she told the story it was so sweet, the coming of age and the innocence in which she became a woman.
That days were long and the stories incredible. Martha told me how she found another young man willing to masturbate in front of her as long as she let him look at her pussy. Ropes of thick white cum spurted from his penis as Martha watched. But soon he wanted more, so she refused to see him outside church. Still he tried. So Martha made a new contract, if he could make himself come while sitting in church, so that his cum squirted onto the floor she would let him slide his hand down between her legs, feel her wetness and even tweak her clitoris, but he was not allowed to force his fingers up into her vagina. Sunday morning, the church was half empty. They say in the back row and he rubbed himself. Martha said she drew her skirt up high on her thighs as encouragement, that she never showed him her pussy until after he shot his load.
'At first,' she said, 'it was nice. His hand cupped my body so perfectly, his fingers slid up and down and my wetness covered him, but then he pushed his middle finger into my vagina. Not very far, but enough for me to note his intrusion. I stood up, pushing him away. I caused a bit of a commotion. Everyone knew that he had done something. I never entertained him again.' Martha's voice was resolute, but tinged ever so slightly with regret.
Martha's ability to talk about fooling about with all of those men as though it was good and natural, that it was everyday, right and proper, made me feel more at home with the topic. Eventually I risked a question.
'So did it hurt, your first time?'
'Yes it did as a matter of fact, but I don't remember it for that. I remember the incredible orgasm that followed the pain. My partner was very experienced, he knew just what to do. I was so aroused that when I impaled myself on his penis I just started to come. It was something to remember.'
All of a sudden it dawned on me, this is why Dylan hadn't been invited. Martha wanted to tell me things that she could not say in front of her son. Little did I know that the reason she couldn't say those things with Dylan present is that she thought it would have been to embarrassing for me, not that she would have been embarrassed. Once I got over the shock, Martha's sex talk was quite entertaining, and often very comical. One thing was for sure the holiday was going to be an education whether I wanted one or not.
Together we were jostled to and fro as trains changed tracks, as we changed trains and eventually resorted to a taxi. The house was perched high on a hill overlooking the water, the grounds were surrounded by a high wall, the only entrance was guarded by heavy iron gates. It was an impressive place, that was for sure. The gates opened the taxi drove in. No sooner had we removed our luggage than a young woman appeared dressed in black, wearing a white apron and the taxi disappeared through the gates. She invited us into a small sitting room while the porter took our luggage to our respective rooms. After taking drinks the maid escorted us to our rooms. In all my life I had never seen such a lavish room, it had a massive carved timber bed with mother of pearl inlay, chairs and writing desk to match. The fireplace was enormous, as was the mirror that stood over the marble mantle. Angels looked down from the corners of the ceiling, each with a bow and arrow. It was a romantic room by any account.
I walked to the window, which was in fact a pair of doors that opened onto a small wrought iron balcony. As I opened the doors I could see more than a dozen young women sun bathing by a rectangular pool. They were completely naked, and to my surprise many of them had no pubic hair at all. What kind of place is this? I wondered as I stood and looked out at the naked beauties. Well that would explain the high walls, I concluded as Martha entered my room. 'So what do you think?' Martha enquired.
'Interesting scenery,' I observed.
Martha approached the opening, stood beside me and looked out at the naked girls soaking up the sun.
'Oh the sun is so good here,' she said, 'we'll be sure to get a nice tan before we go home.'
I must say I was a little shocked, but didn't know why. The conversation on the train should have prepared me for just about anything.
'Are there any men here?' I dared ask.
'Oh never, its just us girls, you have nothing to fear other than being seen in your birthday suit.' Martha smiled at my apparent nervousness. 'Besides with a lovely body like yours, you should be happy to show off. I was beautiful once but never really enjoyed it as much as I should have. Anyway, while you're here you're a stranger to everyone. No last names, or even first names if it makes you feel better. Either way no one will ever tell tales about you.'
When I thought about it I was sure that no-one would really care about another naked stranger, but I didn't understand why I should go naked in the first place. I never really thought about it before.
Martha returned to her room allowing me to take a shower in peace. The hot water caressed my tired body. As I stood and enjoyed the soap and the steam I was feeling kind of sexy, as though I had permission. I confess that my hands lingered in places that they would normally have brushed over. But it felt so nice. My nipples were tingling, almost too intense to touch but amazing at the same time. And Between my legs felt so different. My labia was swollen, puffy and sensitive. I had never felt myself like that before and the slick wetness, it was like thick syrup, slippery and pungent to the smell. I wasn't really masturbating, just exploring the sensations. Anyway my meditation was disturbed by a maid who came into the bathroom, gathered up all of my clothes and replaced them with a robe.
