Everyone in this story is over 18. It is, perhaps a little slow to get going, but rest assured, reader, it gets steamy later on. I do hope you enjoy it.
I was no virgin when I got married. I had been de-flowered (if that is not too botanical a term) while I was still at school – and enjoyed it, frankly. Two more boyfriends had their wicked ways with me before I reached twenty, and at twenty-two I started ‘going steady’ with Ben. A ‘nice young man,’ said my mum, and my dad said nothing, as usual, when he proposed, so we got married, with all the usual pomp, nice white dress, bridesmaids, the whole works. I was twenty-three, and until then he had been the perfect gentleman, kind and loving, generous, and pleasant to my parents, if a little distant with my dad, whose Sri Lankan ancestry showed in the colour of his skin.
I should perhaps mention that I was often regarded as ‘a bit of a looker,’ as I had inherited my father’s shiny black hair, (which I wore very long) and my skin-tone was a shade darker than that of most of my friends. I digress.
We hadn’t been married more than three months before I began to see another side of Ben. What they say about the effect of wedding cake… Basically, he started to ‘control’ me. When we went out to dinner – which we did fairly frequently – he wanted to be sure I wasn’t wearing too short a skirt, or showing too much cleavage. (not that I had a lot of that – my breasts were not very big!) I found that he was checking my mobile phone, to see who had been calling me, and who I had been ringing – and he said he didn’t like me going out with my friend Wendy, which was something we had always done about once a fortnight. I accepted all this as a normal part of married life, until one Thursday night I arrived home after going for a drink with Wendy. We were both laughing as we got to the door, and I asked her in for a coffee. Ben was in the kitchen when we got there, with face like thunder. ‘Are you drunk?’ he asked, rudely.
‘No, Ben, I’m not,’ I said, ‘We were having fun. You remember fun?.’ He didn’t like that one bit, and I thought for a moment he was going to hit me.
‘Then what were you laughing at?’ he demanded, after Wendy had left. I turned and walked away, which annoyed him more.
A few days later Wendy came round and asked me if I’d like to go to the cinema with her. Ben was hovering in the background and put his oar in, ‘No, she’s not available tonight,’ he said, brusquely. Wendy went, and I yelled at Ben, ‘What the fuck do you mean, “not available” – I don’t recall you asking me first.’
‘I don’t have to, you’re my wife!’ he shouted, and as he saw me putting on my jacket, he rushed across and slapped me across the cheek.
‘That does it, you bastard!’ I said, grabbed my bag, and ran out of the house, shaking like a leaf. Not trusting myself to drive, I ran down the street, around a couple of corners, where there was a pub I’d never been in before, and slipped into the lounge bar. I was sure he wouldn’t find me there.
I sat, nursing a gin and tonic, which was slowly having a soothing effect, when in walked three girls, chattering like sparrows. I gave them a cursory glance, then realised that I knew one of them. And she realised simultaneously that she knew me.
‘Katie!’ said Ingrid Berglund, her beauty undiminished by the – what – six years? Yes, it was all of that since I had seen the tall Swedish blonde. She introduced me to her friends, Becky and Sarah, but I was fascinated by Ingrid.
‘Ingrid,’ I said, ‘You look so…lovely.’ I was looking for a more emphatic word, but didn’t want to sound gushing or…or what?
She and her friends looked dressed to go clubbing – they all wore short, tight dresses and heels, but Ingrid’s dress was a sparkly silver affair which was hardly long enough to be decent, and her long slender legs were accentuated by what looked like five inch needle heels, and a loose gold chain around her left ankle. She had a faux-fur jacket draped over her shoulders, and her platinum blonde hair hung down in a silken cascade to below her waist. Her make-up, unlike it had been in school, when she had been teased for ‘having no eyebrows’ was perfect, with long lashes and just enough blue eye-shadow to bring out those gorgeous blue eyes. Her nails were long enough to be very noticeable too, painted a rich shade of maroon. Katie, I thought, whatever’s wrong with you? Girls just aren’t your thing – are they?
But Ingrid was talking to me, in her slightly husky voice. ‘What have you been doing these last years, Katie? I always wanted to stay friends with you after you stuck up for me at school, but then you went off to University, didn’t you?’
It came back to me. I had stopped the horrid lot teasing Ingrid about her eyebrows, what seemed a century ago.
‘Yep, went to Uni. Got a useless degree in social science, then married a bastard, didn’t I?’ It sounded so bitter, just like that. But Ankara escort I asked, ‘And you, did you go on studying?’
‘I went to modelling school, when I couldn’t get into drama, and that’s what I do, when I get the chance.’
‘But no romance in your life?’ I asked, though it was none of my business.
She smiled. ‘Nothing permanent, no,’ she replied, then said, ‘Listen, Katie, we are going clubbing in a while. Why don’t you come along?’
I looked from Ingrid, in her sparkly minidress, to Becky, in a silky pleated creation, and Sarah, in a tight, knee-length, floral print, then down at my jeans, and said, ‘I’d love to, believe me, Ingrid, but there’s no way I could go dressed like this – they’d think I’d come to mend the boiler.’
‘I see your point,’ she said, ‘But we’ll wait while you go home and change. You live close by, don’t you?’
‘If I went home now, Ben wouldn’t let me back out, especially all dressed up. No, I’d better give it a miss.’
Ingrid looked at me with concern written all over her face. ‘What will you do now?’ she wanted to know.
‘I’ll go to a friend’s tonight, then think about it,’ I said. I gave Ingrid my mobile number. ‘Phone me, I’d love to meet up with you again soon.’ I meant it.
Wendy was only too pleased to put me up in her spare room, and told Ben she hadn’t seen me when he rang her – three times.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Wendy, as I set off to work – my 30-hour a week job in Social Services was not very fulfilling, but it kept my mind off my marriage. I had borrowed a skirt and jumper from my friiend, so that I looked respectable, and we planned to get together at lunchtime, and ‘raid’ my house for more clothes, while I knew Ben would be at work on his building site, where he was a surveyor. I blocked his number on my mobile phone.
No sooner had I got to the office than my mobile rang. I didn’t recognize the number. It was Ingrid.
‘Hello,’ said her deep, husky voice, ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’ There was a pause, as If she was nervous about what to say next. I filled it. ‘And I about you. We should never have lost touch. I…I…’
She broke in, ‘You’re right. Listen, Katie, can we meet, soon – like very soon?’
‘How about lunchtime?’ I heard myself saying. What was going through my head?
‘Sure.’ She named a wine bar quite close to my office, and we arranged to meet at 12.30. But where was this leading? I rang Wendy and put off our ‘raid’ on my house until the next day.
‘You got a hot date?’ she said, and I was glad she couldn’t see me flushing.
When I arrived at the wine bar Ingrid was already there, at a corner table, with a bottle of Chardonnay
and two glasses. ‘Hope this is okay?’ she said.
‘Perfect,’ I replied, and as a waitress was nearby, ordered chicken salad. ‘Make that two,’ said Ingrid.
I looked at her. My God, I thought, she’s beautiful. She was wearing a simple floral print summer dress, whose blue tones seemed to reflect her magnificent eyes, and her hair was braided into a long, long rope, down her back. Her hands, with their faultless nails, eased a pale blue silky jacket off her shoulders, then one of them slid across the table and covered mine. Her touch, the first ever, I thought, carried an electricity that was as unexpected as it was thrilling. I was conscious of being tongue-tied. But I didn’t need to speak.
‘Do you find me attractive, Katie?’ she suddenly said.
I didn’t know how best to respond to such a direct question. ‘Oh yes,’ I finally managed, before becoming speechless once more.
The hand that had been on mine was now on my knee under the table, gently stroking. I realised I was getting wet.
Our salads came, breaking the moment, but Ingrid’s eyes were on mine as we ate and sipped our wine.
Soon, we both pushed our plates away, and Ingrid’s gaze became, if anything, more intense, beneath slightly lowered eyelids. I thought she looked incredibly sexy.
‘Ingrid,’ I began, ‘I’ve never…’ I was lost for words to descibe how I felt.
‘Darling,’ she said, her voice somehow lower, huskier than ever, ‘I understand. You don’t really want to admit what your body is telling you, do you?’ That hand had slid further up my thigh as she spoke, and the tingling I felt in my pussy had now started to reach alarming proportions, so that I thought my borrowed panties must be soaked. But I nodded yes.
She went on: ‘I wanted you when we were at school, but I don’t suppose you knew. Last night, it all came back, and when I saw the way you looked at me, I knew we should be together. Katie, there are so many things I want to do to you…’
‘But I’m a married woman,’ I protested feebly.
‘Ha. I don’t think that will last much longer, do you?’
‘Oh God, Ingrid, what am I going to do?’
‘For a start, come to my apartment tonight, and we’ll do a bit of planning – afterwards!’ She licked Ankara escort bayan her lips as she spoke the last word, and winked – actually winked, at me.
Back at my desk, I couldn’t concentrate on anything much – just as well things were quiet. Mid-afternoon, and a smirking Jeanette held up her phone and said, ‘Katherine?’ Oh shit, only my mother called me that – I gestured for her to put me through.
Without preambles, she said, ‘Katherine, what’s going on, I’ve had a very worried Benjamin on asking if you were here.’
Benjamin, indeed, I thought, she does like to give people their full handles. ‘Mum, I’ve left him,’ I said, ‘He’s been a complete pig to me.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it can all be sorted out – he’s such a nice young man. Why don’t you bring him round for tea, and we’ll have a nice chat?’
‘No, mum, you don’t understand,’ I said, trying not to tell everyone in the office my business, ‘It’s over. I’ll let you know where I shall be staying.’ I rang off without letting her say her piece, and found I was shaking when I had replaced the receiver. Jeanette had finally realized I had a real problem, and came over to offer some comfort. ‘A cup of tea would be nice,’ I said.
I don’t know how I got through the rest of the day, but Ingrid was constantly in my thoughts. I went to Wendy’s when I finished and told her, blushingly, that I was going to see Ingrid, and that I’d phone her later.
‘Ingrid, eh?’ she said, ‘Ingrid the Swedish blonde. I remember her – you were always making eyes at her, even at school.’ I didn’t try to deny it, though I didn’t think it had been much more than friendship then. Thing is, what was it now? I called her. ‘When can I come round?’
‘Fancy a take-away?’ she said, ‘If so, come right away, and we’ll order whatever.’ She gave me her address, and we rang off.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ said Wendy, as I was slipping into my jacket.
‘I hope so too,’ I replied.
I was more than a little nervous when I knocked on the door of Ingrid’s little town house, in a rather smart quarter of the town. But I gasped when she came to the door, and opened it just enough for me to slide inside.
I saw straight away why she didn’t want the whole world to see her in the doorway. She wore a long, wholly transparent black sheath dress, with long, voluminous sleeves. Underneath, she was completely naked, save for a pair of equally transparent tiny black panties, tied at their sides with red ribbons. Her magnificent hair was loose, falling to below her waist, and she stood on high-heeled, furry black mules. She stood back a pace. ‘Do you like how I look?’ she teased. I could scarcely take my eyes off the sharp points of her small, firm breasts, as they thrust at the skimpy material.
I took a moment to recover, then said, hoarsely, ‘I could eat you, Ingrid.’
‘Then you shall, darling,’ she said, ‘But let’s get some food ordered, and have a drink while we wait for it, shall we?’ She took me hot hand in her cool one, and led me into a minimally but beautifully furnished living room, and showed me a fan of take-away menus on the black glass coffee-table. We sat on the white leather sofa, me acutely aware of Ingrid’s nearness, and chose Indian. When the doorbell rang, Ingrid suggested I go – ‘We don’t want to give the poor little bugger a heart attack, do we!’ She passed me a twenty pound note, and we were soon tucking in – I was hungry – and we opened a bottle of red wine she had ready.
As soon as we finished eating, Ingrid stood up and announced that she had to go and wash her sticky fingers. I joined her in a pristine bathroom. ‘Just going to have a pee,’ she said, ‘But don’t go, darling,’ then simply raised the skirt of her sheath, flipped open the bows holding her panties, and let them fall to the floor. I was amazed at her lack of self-consciousness, and stood and watched as she sat on the loo and simply released a stream of yellow piss, saying, ‘That’s better.’ Her eyes had never left mine.
She stood and led me back to the lounge, sitting gracefully on the arm of the sofa, her panties left behind on the bathroom floor. She moved one long slim leg up onto the sofa, simultaneously sliding the hem of her dress up to bare her pussy, still wet with the remnants of her piss. ‘You said something about wanting to eat me, Katie, I think,’ she said, her voice now deep and seductive. I knelt in front of the sofa, took in the sight of her pink slit, so temptingly offered, and, for the first time in my life, touched another woman’s pussy – the fingers of both of my hands gently pulling apart her labia.
‘Come on, Katie, don’t be shy, I want you so much,’ she urged, in not much more than a whisper, and so encouraged, I touched my tongue to her crack, tentatively at first, then licked the length of it, up and down. Her taste was unexpectedly sweet, with a hint of muskiness, and she let out a tiny moan as I explored her treasures, then sunk Escort Ankara my tongue deep into her cunt, now making her shudder and moan more loudly. I came up for air, licked along her crack, then finding her clit, bit it gently with my teeth, before again driving my tongue deep into her cunt. She writhed and screamed as an orgasm hit her, and she hurt me as she pulled my hair involuntarily at that moment.
‘Fuck, Katie, and you reckon that was your first time? Am I to believe you?’
‘Honest!’ I replied, ‘I’ve only been with men before. Fucked if I know why. But, Ingrid, I want to feel what you’ve felt. I’ve had orgasms, but I think you just had one that…that…well, I don’t know.’
‘Oh darling Katie, after what you’ve just done for me, I hope you don’t think pleasure only goes one way, do you?’ She smiled, ‘I will get as much pleasure eating you, you know – not to mention all the other things we can do?’
‘Other things? I really am a bit naïve, Ingrid. Teach me!’
‘Of course, love, but it’ll take more than one night, and I’ve an early shoot in the morning, so we’ve not much time. Just show me your pussy.’
I looked at her, and saw she meant it, so I stood up, reached under my pleated skirt and pulled down the white cotton panties that Wendy had loaned me. I sat back down on the sofa, pulled the hem of the skirt up to my waist, and hesitantly parted my legs. Instantly Ingrid started to stroke my pussy, and I felt my juices beginning to flow – I always got damp very easily.
‘Mmmm, that’s nice,’ she said, ‘You’ve got a lovely pussy, Katie.’ She dropped to the floor, and her gorgeous silky blonde hair caressed my thighs as her head bobbed down and I had the incredible feeling of her long tongue coursing along my slit, then – oh joy! – plunging deeply into my sopping cunt. I moaned. Then as she nuzzled my sensitive clit with her nose, she suddenly stuck a long-nailed finger straight up my anus. I felt the king of all orgasms sweep over me like a tsunami, and almost blacked out with the sheer force of pleasure.
I took a long time recovering from that, and then it was time to go, but not before we had had a little chat. ‘Look, Ingrid,’ I said, ‘Tonight has been a life-changing experience for me. I realize it may not be for you. There’s no way I shall go back to Ben, but what I do now, I don’t know – I mean, I’m off back to Wendy’s for the time being, then I’ll have a good think.’
‘You can move in with me,’ she said, ‘We’d have plenty of room here.’
‘Ingrid, you hardly know me, love. I’m sure to have habits that would get on your nerves. Let me see if I can get an apartment or something, at least for a while, then we’ll see.’ She saw the sense in that, and I went off to Wendy’s, with a spring in my step. I was a lesbian, and I loved it!
Wendy, of course, wanted to know all about my love-life. I didn’t really want to tell her anything, good friend though she certainly was. ‘Sorry, love,’ I said, ‘It’s early days – I’ve a lot of thinking to do. I just know that I have had my eyes opened a bit.’
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘Well, I’m here for you if you need to talk.’ She sounded just a bit off, as if she thought I might have shared a bit more. I understood.
The next day was Friday, and the last chance before the weekend to collect some gear from my/Ben’s house. We went at lunchtime, Wendy and I, collected a load of clothes, some mementoes, and my little car, which had been standing out on the driveway. When I finally got back to the office, after thanking Wendy profusely, there was a missed call from Ingrid. I called her mobile, and found she was at home.
‘Katie!’ she exclaimed, ‘I’m missing you, darling. But listen, I’ve got to go to Paris tomorrow. Come with me!’
‘Yeah, just like that – Paris, sure!’ I said, with sarcasm all too obvious in my voice.
‘No, darling, I mean it. I have a photo-shoot. Monday’s a bank-holiday, and we come back Monday night. We get tickets for two, because lots of the models take husbands, partners, what-have-you. Do come!’
I am, I have to confess, a typical Aries – impulsive. ‘What time tomorrow?’ I asked, feeling a joyful sense of…of what? Freedom? Love? Happiness? All those things and more. I could scarcely wait to tell Wendy. When I did so, she gave me a hug, and actually looked happy for me.
I rang Ingrid, and we talked about what to take, and what to wear, then decided on early nights, as we had to be at the station by eight next morning. Next I called my mother, and told her I was going away for a long weekend ‘with a friend’ to think about things. She huffed and puffed, but knew I wouldn’t be persuaded to change my mind.
At last it was morning. In a pretty floral print minidress, I took a lot of time over my make-up, slipped on a pair of low-heeled sandals, made sure I had my passport, and set off in plenty of time to meet Ingrid at the station. I hardly dared hope she would actually be there – that this trip would become a reality – so my heart did a skip when I saw her already waiting on the platform. Like me, she wore a summer dress, but hers looked more Versace than H&M, with a silky sheen, and short, finely pleated skirt.