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As the week went on two questions came to dominate my thoughts.
Thus far we had been following the path blazed by Claire and Lindi. I had not been, nor did I feel I had been, coerced into going down the route we had followed. Other options had been available. I could have tried to put a stop to it; I could have bawled my eyes out and got upset; I could have left; I could have asked her to leave; all these would have been perfectly “normal” reactions. Instead I had encouraged them and endorsed what they had done; why?
The simple answer was also the profound one. I loved Claire. Did that love mean that I was the only woman she could ever fuck for the rest of our lives? Yes, IF that was what `she wanted; but she had voted with her pussy. Monogamy was both “natural” and socially-conditioned – not least in a man’s world where men needed to know that the child their wife bore was theirs. That was the societal bit. The “natural” was that we tend to be possessive, insecure, and therefore jealous. She’s “mine,” and if you have her, I can’t and I lose out and I don’t like that and, and, and so on and so forth.
So what was “wrong” with me? Once over the initial shock, there had, yes, been a touch of the green-eyed monster; but not much. More powerful was the sexual arousal I got from the idea of the two of them together. Initially, feeling my way, I had let Lindi take the lead, until I realised, I did not want to play, or indeed be, the “victim.” I loved Claire, so why should others not love her? If they loved her, why should she always be denying herself? That was how my mind worked. Maybe I was just a “little perve?”
But now, well now another situation was about to manifest itself. What if I were to take a lover? Would Claire follow my example? Or would her reaction be more “normal?”
While those thoughts ran through my head while I texted Jacquie and planned for Saturday, another one kept bothering me. I’d let slide an opportunity to find out who had been sending me those explicit pictures of Claire and Lindi?
Claire spent Thursday night with Lindi at her place, which not only allowed me to catch up on my administration, the home paperwork, and the laundry, but also time for all that reflecting. I could have kicked myself for not finding out who the mystery woman was.
Friday was my catch-up day at work, and with no Claire at home, I took an early train and got into work for just after seven thirty. Beavering away, I was a little taken aback by a knock on my office door just before eight.
“Come in!” I shouted, and to my surprise, it was Chloe Smith, Jacquie’s granddaughter.
“Sorry to bother you Miss, but do you have time to talk? I know Gran came to see you earlier in the week.”
“Take a seat Chloe. She did, but just as I would not discuss you with her, I am bound by that rule with you.”
“I understand Miss, but, well, it’s just.”
The poor thing was crossing, uncrossing, and crossing her legs as though she was in extreme discomfort.
“What it is?”
“It’s just, well, me and Jenny, and Gran thinks I am a pervert and going to Hell. I’m not am I Miss?”
“Chloe, Gran’s generation was brought up that way; your’s is more fortunate.”
“You are one, aren’t you Miss?”
“A lesbian, yes.”
“So lesbians aren’t all perverts then Miss? I want to be one like you, not those other ones.”
“What other ones, Chloe?”
“That’s why I wanted to see you Miss. I did something bad last Saturday.”
“Chloe, if you and Jenny made love, that is not bad.”
“No, no Miss, it was at the club, you know the gay one off the High Street.”
I listened as Chloe unfolded her tale.
“We were dancing and maybe had a bit to drink, Miss, well anyway, there were these two, super fit and very hot women, about your age Miss. They flirted with us, and then one of them asked if I could help them by taking a photo of them. Of course I said yes, and then, well, she was being sexual with her, and I took the photos and sent them to the wife of one of them. Miss, am I a pervert? Will I go to Hell?”
Oh. My. God! Chloe had seen my wife’s pussy! She had seen her fingered by Lindi. She had seen her in the ladies with a plug in her arse. Oh. My. God!
That was what went through my head. But I am good at hiding my emotions, and simply said:
“Oh my! No, no of course not, Chloe!”
Some things a girl can’t help – and that included the tingling between my legs I felt at the knowledge mersin escort that it was Chloe who had seen all of that. My task has to be to reassure her – that, I hopes, would help dismiss a feeling with which I was unfamiliar in a work context.
“It was just, well, Miss, at the time it felt so hot!”
“I can understand that Chloe.”
“Thank you, Miss., They were both, like, so fit and hot, and it was only later that I thought I’d been bad – got carried away, like.”
“You won’t be the first Chloe. Was Jenny okay?”
“Oh she was Miss. She got the lady to send us one of the pictures.”
Just as I was getting on top of the tingle factor, she comes out with that!
“What did you do with it?”
I hoped that my interest sounded pastoral.
“We kept it, Miss, it’s so hot. But then I began to think about the wife it was sent to. How must she feel at what she saw, her wife with another woman? I’d hate that if Jenny did it!”
There, again, was the nub of the matter. Was it worth trying to say anything to Chloe? She was eighteen and in love, still exploring her sexuality with that delightful innocence that can accompany the first time. But I did not want to patronise her, and I owed her a duty of counselling.
“Has it occurred to you, Chloe, that the two women may have enjoyed that?”
“What, Miss? She enjoyed seeing her wife like that. Isn’t that a bit kinky?”
I did my best not to blush. Sometimes one does not want that “gift” Burns wrote about, of seeing ourselves as others saw us.
“Isn’t that judgmental, Chloe? Does it differ from the way your Gran judges you?”
Chloe blushed; she looked pretty.
“But Miss, what Jenny and I do comes naturally, it’s just Gran’s not modern, Miss.”
“But what if that came naturally to the two women?”
“I guess it’s their business, Miss.”
I beamed, desperately wanting to put an end to the conversation.
“That’s right, Chloe, it is. And that means you should not feel guilty.”
She looked at me with a sigh and a smile of relief.
“Oh Miss, thank you! I didn’t know who else to go to. I couldn’t tell Gran; she’d have hit the roof!”
Well, I thought to myself, I plan to help her to do that in quite a different sense!
It was not without relief that I saw Chloe go.
I was not attracted to younger women, though I saw, only too well, why others were. But the knowledge of what she had seen sent shivers through me. So I did what I am good at doing, I compartmentalised and got on with my day.
I got back before Claire and prepared supper. She came in just after six thirty.
“Hi Squirt, how’s things?”
She gave me a big kiss and a hug. This I liked, and it was clearly linked to her time with Lindi. I loved that she felt the need to reassure me.
“Good darling, tuna salad, do you? I’m just boiling an egg. Do you want a Chablis?”
“I’d love to, but I am watching my weight, so if you can just get me some water – and salad sounds great!”
There were two obvious topics of conversation that Friday night, so, of course, we talked about how our respective weeks had gone, and about the upcoming marathon.
Emboldened perhaps by my second glass of wine, I eventually touched on one of the two elephants in the room.
“I met the woman today, the one who took those pictures of you and Lindi.”
She looked at me.
I loved to see her blush, but on this occasion she really did look nonplussed.
“How, fuck, how did they know who I was? We never told them, honest! Oh Squirt, fuck!”
“Du calme mon enfant,” I said, laughing.
“She does not know who you are, though she did say you were hot and fit.”
“Sorry Squirt, you’ve lost me. You met the woman, and she does not know who I am? Make it make sense, darling.”
So I did, telling her exactly what had happened.
“Oh fuck! So Jacquie’s granddaughter knows about Lindi and I?”
“No, darling,” I giggled, “do keep up! All she knows is that she took pics of a slut having her pussy fingered. She does not know it is you!”
“Thank fuck for that!” Claire breathed a sigh of relief.
Over a post-prandial drink, the other elephant in the room came up, as it was bound to.
“Squirt, can I ask a question?”
“Why the fuck do you want to fuck a granny?”
“I don’t,” I said, “I want to see whether Jacquie and I would work.”
“Work? In what way?”
“I like her.”
“Pix,” she mersin escort bayan said, (she only ever called me Pix when she was puzzled) “explain. I said why do you want to fuck a granny and you said you wanted to get close to her to see if you and her would work. Sorry, I don’t speak Pix sometimes. Even for you, that’s opaque.”
She had a point. But I was not sure I could explain.
“Are you trying to get back at me for Lindi?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I dunno, jealousy?”
“Darling, I am not in the slightest bit jealous; well maybe in the slightest bit, but only enough to add spice.”
“Pix! Sometimes you are the most infuriating little Squirt. You do, I take it, want to fuck a granny?”
“Darling,” I said, taking my specs off and giving her a look:
“Jacquie may be a granny, indeed she is one, but that is her status, so to say, not who she is. Not everyone is fortunate enough to be a hot gym instructor!”
“Flatterer,” she grinned. “I think you need a bit of instruction you little tart. Is this your mummy complex!”
“I do NOT have a mummy complex!” I protested.
“Oh no, of course, not, you just like women with big mummy tits you can suckle, and you like being called babygirl because no, you don’t have a Mummy thing going on.”
“A Mummy thing,” I protested, “is not the same as a Mummy complex.”
“Get across my bloody knee now, you infuriating little beast!”
“Yes Mummy!” I giggled.
As I went to lay across her lap, she flipped up my skirt and pulled my tights and knickers down. I felt the cool air on my bum. Then I felt her warm hands kneading my cheeks. Then I whimpered.
“I love your arse darling; it is so bloody tight and cute.”
“Thank you Mummy!” I giggled, which produced what I had hoped, a sharp slap across my bum cheeks. I winced.
“One, thank you Miss!”
Then another and a third. My bum began to sting.
“Two, three, thank you Miss!”
I thanked her for the next three, by which time my backside was on fire. I thanked her for the next three, by which time the pain was turning into pleasure.”
“Your arse is turning a nice shade of pink, little one. Does teacher like being spanked?”
That produced a very sharp and hard tenth spank, lower down, close to my pussy, which made me cry out.
“Ten! Fuck! Thank you, Miss!”
Eleven and twelve had me sobbing.
“What do you say, little one?”
Between my sobs I thanked her.
“Corner time, Squirt!”
She watched as I rose, knickers and tights around my thighs, and waddled to the corner, where I stood with my bum on show. I could hear activity behind me. I heard her get up and go into the hall. I heard the door open. I heard words. Oh fuck! I thought, Lindi was going to see me like this! I wanted to pull my knickers up – but didn’t; partly because my bum ached; and partly because the idea made me soaking wet.
“Hi Miss Lindi!
“You are right darling, she does look delicious, like a one of those adult schoolgirls in the videos we like. Have you been a naughty Teach then?”
“Yes, Miss Lindi.”
“Well that arse is a beautiful shade of dark pink. Your wife does discipline you so well.”
“Yes, Miss Lindi.”
“Do you mind if I touch your wife’s arse, darling?” Lindi asked.
“Be my guest!”
My mind was screaming “no, no!” but it needed to have a word with my pussy which was saying “yes, yes!”
Lindi knew that the moment she slipped her hand between my thighs and patted my sopping wet pussy.
“Gets her off, doesn’t it?”
To which the bloody answer was “especially when you discuss me as though I was not bloody well here!”
As her hand brushed my wetness, I couldn’t but let out a low moan.
“Do you think the little thing likes having her arse spanked? I have to say, she looks so delicious, knickers down and red arse on show.”
“Oh I am sure she does. But I want your attention, so come here Lindi!”
“Of course, sorry Squirt, I got a better offer!”
With that absolutely pussy-tingling thought, she patted my sore backside and went to Claire.
I could hear them making out. I could hear the kisses, the sighs, the clothing being discarded, the moaning.
Fuck, fuck. fuck!
I was squirming. I could feel my juices leaking down my upper thighs. I wanted to push my hand between my legs and rub like mad; I ached everywhere a girl could ache.
But, escort mersin absent any instruction, I stayed there, facing the corner, listening to my wife and her lover making love behind me. Then, after what seemed an agonising age, I heard Claire orgasm.
“God, Lindi, you are so fucking hot. Your turn now. Squirt, you can watch if you are a good girl and leave your cunt alone!”
I shuffled round.
I had to stop myself from cumming at the sight.
Claire, her bare arse facing me, was kneeling between Lindi’s open thighs. Lindi was pulling on her nipples while my wife ate her out.
I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I had to do, which is why I started sucking my thumb.
“Oh Claire, how sweet, look, she’s sucking her thumb for Mummy!”
It was not bloody Mummy, I wanted to say, it was to keep my left hand busy – I was left-handed. But, of course, I didn’t, and when Claire turned, her face wet with Lindi’s cream, and when she smiled, showing me her wet lips, something in me shivered, deep, deep in my core.
This, my girl, I reminded myself, was how one ended up in subspace.
“She’s a good girl when she’s like this, she loves to watch!”
The sight of Claire burying her face between Lindi’s thighs, and the noises they were both making made me so wet. Did I want to join them? The answer only came to me later – and it was an unhelpful yes and no.
The “yes’ bit was obvious. Joining would have been erotic bliss; but oddly, so was not joining in. I was getting a thrill from watching which would have been absent had a I joined them.
Lindi looked into my eyes as she got closer to her orgasm. The sizzling feeling was there – and I wanted her as she came hard, my wife making her. I watched as she pushed herself against Claire and moaned loudly.
Standing there, my tights and knickers at half-mast, my clit aching, my backside still sore, I felt on the edge of an orgasm almost continually. From somewhere, however, I managed to summon the will not to cum.
Claire knelt up and kissed Lindi.
She then turned and looked at me.
“Oh Squirt, you look so sexy. Come here!”
I began to waddle over.
“Get your knickers off you little tart!”
Thank goodness for that, I thought.
“Now sit there!” She gestured for me to sit between her and Lindi, who hugged us both.
“Squirt,” said Lindi, “do you need to cum?”
The answer was obvious, but I gave the one she would not have been expecting.
“No, I am fine!”
I wanted, needed, to hold something back. I had enjoyed the submission, I always did with Claire, but if I failed to draw any boundaries, soon there would be none. hard though it was (and it was) I said that in view of the hour, we really ought to go to bed.
“Do you want to sleep with us Squirt?” Claire asked.
I smiled, feeling some sort of control coming back to me.
“I wouldn’t get much sleep, and we have a lunch date.”
Lindi looked at me curiously.
“I want to meet this Jacquie.”
“Well,” I said, “ask Claire about her granddaughter.”
Lindi looked surprised.
“Are we getting a younger woman involved?”
“Oh,” I said, “you already did!”
And with that, not forgetting to grab my underwear, I headed for bed, smiling quietly.
It struck me as I got drowsy, that one of the features of the “cuckquean” stories I had read, was their objectification of the “quean.” She was acted upon, passive, humiliated and used. That may have been why they so often failed to grab me.
I knew myself well enough to be aware of the dangers of my temperament. There was certainly a part of me that craved the humiliation, but I knew that if I let it go too far, I could lose both myself and Claire.
Only a foolish girl would ignore the fact that adding a third party to a marriage was bound to change its dynamic. On the whole, the changes had been beneficial. Claire and I had refreshed our own sex life, and I noticed we also paid each other those little loving attentions which had tended to get lost along the years. But, if I allowed myself to fall into deep subspace, I risked losing both myself, and her. Steady on, girl!
They must have been my last thoughts before sleep overcame me, as they we still there when I woke.
Today would be a test, I thought. Had I subconsciously planned it as such? No, I dismissed the idea as I drank my coffee and ate my croissant while listening to Charles Trenet singing “La Mer”. But it would be interesting to see how the two lovebirds reacted to Jacquie. Was I the one who was going to add an ingredient to the mix which might sour it?
Time, I thought, would tell. In the meantime, breakfast for the lovers, I thought!
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