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My stories are memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination. Most stories contain a combination of real and fictional characters with names changed as appropriate to protect the ‘guilty.’
Where possible I will provide a reference back to one of my Lit stories that fills in necessary background if necessary and I sometimes, to better frame the scene, include passages from stories I have previously published.
I hope you enjoy this story and comment on what you liked and perhaps didn’t like to help me improve my writing.
A word of warning, this is a story of sexual submission. When I first started writing for Lit, I included in my introduction a few words about “being submissive by nature.” I always had difficulty writing about that part of my life, that part of my sexuality, and only did a few times. “The Photographer”, is one story series I wrote you might find interesting if you like submission stories.
My series titled “Doctor Catherine” was largely true and came about when, after the passing of my wife Beth, my Gynecologist, introduced me to a group of mature bisexual and lesbian women.
This story is Part 1 of a series of three short stories. This series is about Jillian, a woman I met who, unknown to me, when I first met her, was in the Dr. Catherine group. After the one weekend we spent together I never saw or spoke to her again.
Jillian Part 1 – Encounter
I love the beach, ‘mother ocean.’ Although I now live in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, in a tiny beach house I bought years ago, for many years I lived in Florida and of course near the ocean. Well, the truth is, in Florida I could not afford a house directly on the beach. I lived two blocks away.
I am a walker. In addition to regular gym and yoga sessions my real love is walking the beach, looking for shells, driftwood, sunsets and an occasional lover. I like to think of beach walking as ‘butt control.’ If I walk enough maybe I can keep it ‘size cute!’ I have, over the years, met a lot of new friends and lovers introduced to me by ‘mother ocean.’ This is a story of one of those people, Jillian.
I confess that like anyone else who is a long term beach goer, I must be careful of sun exposure so if you guessed that my beach time is mostly in the early morning near sunrise and the evening near sunset you would be correct.
I met Jillian on the beach one day following hurricane Maria. I say ‘met’ but that is not really correct. It was actually when she saw me for the first time and took my picture. She would eventually confess to me that she often watched me and took pictures of me without my knowing. Eventually, one late afternoon, Jillian approached me and introduced herself.
Jillian is easy to describe. She appeared to be in her late forties, perhaps early fifties. I would later find out she was fifty-seven. She had, at that time, medium length ‘dirty blond’ hair, light but very tanned skin and freckles, lots of freckles. Her eyes are blue, the shade of blue eyes that is disarming when you first see them. Judging from my own height, I’m five foot seven, I guessed she was about the same height, perhaps sightly taller. I would not have said Jillian was slender but not obese either. Let’s call her “chubby.” Like me a little extra here and there, mostly up there and down there. An hourglass?
Not a big fan of excessive clothing, Jillian every time I saw her, wore the same faded red bikini with a simple light color, white or light blue, man’s shirt as a cover-up. I would not have chosen a bikini if I were her but that’s just me, very self conscious of my own ever expanding “chubby.” Jillian seemed to be constantly struggling to contain her much too big for that bikini “girls” as they attempted escape at every opportunity. Again, being critical of her choice, the bottom of that suit left little to the imagination as her bottom was a constant delicious distraction as it peeked from under her cover-up top now and then and mthe fabric of her suit found it’s way between her lovely cheeks.
The thing about Jillian was that, attached to her left hand, constantly attached to her hand, was a real camera, not a phone, not an amateur camera, but a real professional looking camera with a rather big (long) lens.
The very first time we met face to face and spoke to each other she confessed to having seen me weeks before, at sunrise, on a day just after Hurricane Maria. She was also very honest about having taken my picture for the first time on that day. She half heartedly apologized for taking it without me knowing and offered the picture if I wanted it. I just smiled knowing that with today’s technology she could give me the picture and keep it and I would never know.
I notice her choice of words ‘for the first time’ and ask her how many pictures of me she took. She is vague and evasive and doesn’t seem to know with any certainty and suddenly I don’t trust her.
Now, I was initially very critical of her bathing suit but as I think about that now it makes me smile to know that very often while walking Beylikdüzü Escort the beach, I also wear a large mans shirt as a coverup and not much else. Now I do wear a thong or panties sometimes but I’m more a closet nudist than I will admit.
She walks with me for a while and I am a little more comfortable the more we talk. As we approach my turn off for home I tell her, “This is where I get off. It was nice meeting you Jillian, I hope I see you again sometime.”
She grasps my arm and says, “No wait! Don’t you want the pictures? Please call me Jill!”
I am suspicious again, pull my arm away, and reply, “Oh, no that’s ok, you keep them. I know what I look like. I’ll maybe see you again on the beach…… Jill.” I was not really outwardly rude but uncomfortable and suspicious. However, she couldn’t miss ‘the keep your distance’ signals I was sending in my overall tone.
I really have no idea where she lives or anything else about her. I head home and pretty much put it all behind me and go on with life.
Two weeks or more later the sunrise on Wednesday was exceptional. I sat in a chair on the beach at the waters edge and watched the day begin. A voice from behind me…. “Good morning Robin, beautiful day isn’t it? May I join you?” It’s my new non-friend Jill with a folding chair that is quickly open and beside mine.
I look up at her and I’m a little surprised. Although the light is minimal Jill looks different. Faded, very tight, torn at the knees jeans, much more suitable for a younger woman, but the same mans shirt untucked on top. She has cut her hair much shorter and it is much more blond, very easy going, stylish. She looks younger perhaps thinner. Jill is barefoot and has rings on three toes I did not notice before. As I look at her I see her top is unbuttoned, just enough, revealing as she bends over, the swell and more of those now unrestrained ‘girls.’ I smile inwardly thinking I never met another woman who’s breasts were trying so hard to escape as my own.
However, at that moment I am surprised to see her and somewhat disappointed that she has inserted herself in ‘my sunrise.’ Regardless, I offer, “Good morning Jill! It is a beautiful start to the day.”
She sits and we do not speak for a short time then she blurts out, “Robin, if you’ll let me I’d like to buy you breakfast. We got off to a rocky start the other day, I think. I assure you I was not stalking you or anything like that.”
I’m looking at her tanned feet in the water just beyond the now wet cuff hem of her faded jeans. I’m thinking she has sexy feet and that tan, those rings and red nails make her feet and toes look erotic. I often think I am in a minority who think a woman’s feet are sometimes sexy.The ankle bracelet looks very familiar but I’m distracted. I turn, look at her face and those steel blue eyes freeze my brain for a moment. Suddenly my brain re-connects and I realize that she knows my name. I did not tell her my name! She mentioned stalking. I thought about it briefly but do not believe I ever said it out loud.
I reply without thinking, “How do you know my name? I did not tell you my name! I don’t know you. Stalking? I’m not comfortable with this at all!” My flee instinct kicks in and I stop talking and stand to fold my chair and leave.
She looks genuinely concerned, stands and blurts out, “No! No! No! Nishi! I was with Nishi in the dunes on the first day I saw you. Nishi told me about you, told me your name.”
Nishi? It had been a while. My hand is on my chair but I have not folded it. “Nishi, how do you know Nishi?”
She very quickly replies, “A mutual acquaintance, my doctor, introduced us.”
I was no longer really listening, I was flashing back, thinking about sweet Nishi.
Doctor Catherine, Nishi, a mixed memory, Catherine not so good, Nishi wonderful. I met Nishi through the same ‘Women’s Group’ Doctor Catherine had introduced me to. A simple concept, women, some married, some not, some young, some more mature. Women of many colors and ethnic backgrounds. All, however, women who welcome uncomplicated sex with other women. The rules of the group are few. There is a mutually agreed to initial meeting that might or might not lead to more if both individuals agree.
Nishi was the most pleasant, sophisticated, truly sensual and sexually talented woman I met from the group.
About Nishi ….borrowed from my story Doctor Catherine — Part 1.,
Nishi’s home a few miles away from mine was directly on the ocean. A beautiful contemporary sitting on the middle lot of a three lot section of the beachfront. Nishi met me at the door and welcomed me. I begged a tour and was surprised at how modest it really was. All the necessities were there but nothing was boastful about her décor. The whole house called out, “sit down, relax, enjoy life.” We sat on her elevated deck overlooking the ocean and she made tea. Watching her was almost like participating in a tea ceremony I had attended years ago in Taipei.
As Beylikdüzü Escort Bayan we talked, we almost immediately found our common love, the ocean. After a while we finished our tea and she invited me to walk with her and continue our conversation on the beach. It was a beautiful day and I had worn my bathing suit under my clothing so we were off. As we began to walk she took my hand and I felt her warmth. We walked for perhaps a mile and talked about our lives past and present.
We came to a place where she stopped and asked if she could share something very special. I nodded yes and she led me into the dunes to a place where the dunes created a bowl we could stand or sit in with sand and dune grass all around us. She looked at me and asked me to sit. I put my top that I had been carrying on the sand, sat down. and crossed my legs under me. I could feel the heat of the sand warming my butt. I noticed that all I could see was Nishi and the sand and all I could hear was the ocean nearby and Nishi as she spoke.
Nishi sat opposite me in the same crossed legs fashion with her knees touching mine. She took my hands and put them on her thighs just above her knees put her hands on my legs the same way. Nishi said “Robin, be still, don’t move, just breathe.” I sat in the sand looking into the deep brown pools of her eyes and today I can not tell you if it was hot or cold, sunny or overcast, all that was lost. After only a moment she said “close your eyes and listen.”
The sound of a shore bird in the distance, the faint sound of a child on the beach some distance away, the rhythmic sound of the waves washing ashore. Then, my heart, I could hear or feel my heart beating. Then there were two, two hearts beating. I opened my eyes and Nishi was looking at me. She asked, “What do you hear?”
I looked at her and said “At first just a bird, a child and the waves then I heard nothing, nothing at all. Nishi, then I could hear my heart beat, not just hear it but feel it. Then I heard another heartbeat not mine but another heartbeat beating within my chest. Was it yours?”
She squeezed my hands stood and said “We should leave now. We can talk more on the way back.”
As we walked she explained that she had many times heard the same thing, two hearts beating while sitting there even when she was alone. She told me that she had taken several people there and only a few had the same experience. She asked me what I thought. We walked and I had no answer.
After my Nishi flashback Jill and I sat down again and I asked her if Nishi had taken her into the dunes? She replied that yes she had and anticipating my next question she offered, “Yes, I heard two heartbeats. Robin, what do ‘you’ think it means?” I did not answer but simply shrugged my shoulders. Jill put her hand on my arm, “I think we should talk some more. Breakfast? I’m always hungry. ……. I swear, I’m not crazy.”
I want to know more about her experience with Nishi and other Doctor Catherine women so I suggest, “I can’t today but tomorrow morning?”
A frown on her face, “Oh, I have plans with hubby I can’t get out of.”
Her hand is still on my arm. I look at it and there it is, a diamond, and a wedding ring. Her fingers are slender, long and delicate, and her finger nails are also painted red. I’m not at all sure what it is about this woman but for a moment, just a moment, I imagine her pushing her fingers into my mouth as she tells me to suck them.
At that moment I realize what it is about her that leaves me uneasy, unsure. She is exactly the woman I have fallen for in the past. A woman who unlocks my most base instincts, my most essential sexuality. From when I first saw her breasts, her toes and felt the urge and now her fingers, I know there is danger in this woman. The same type of woman who in the past has made me hers in any way she wants. Deep breath and reassured by the rings and feeling comfortable with her again I ask, “Friday?”
She replies, “Friday? Yes! If you want, I’ll meet you here at sunrise. Afterwards we’ll eat and talk. I know a place where the local fishermen eat in the very early morning. My car will be just up the street. I don’t live far away.” I can tell for the first time that she seems nervous. Her words are not connected, they feel almost like random thoughts.
We watch the sunrise and chat about her “photography hobby” and the beach, nothing really, just too many people suddenly near us to talk anymore about Nishi or Doctor Catherine. Her “photography hobby” as I put it is not a hobby at all but rather her business. She is a portrait and wedding specialist but takes nature and other pictures to sell at events in the area. Jill graduated with a Fine Arts degree from a prestigious mid-western university and moved to Florida after graduation to be near family. She has been married twice. Like me her first marriage lasted only one year. She laughs as she tells me the divorce was due to “sexual incompatibility”, he couldn’t meet her Escort Beylikdüzü needs. Her second husband has lasted five years but she seems unenthusiastic, noncommittal about him. We agree to meet at sunrise on Friday.
Back at my house I find the Doctor Catherine list and there she is: “Jill, 54, 150, Married, Open.” (relationship) Had I misjudged her weight? I would not have thought she weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. Perhaps she lost some weight in the time since the list was created almost three years ago.
On Thursday I had an appointment with Becky my hair stylist. My hair started to gray when I was ‘only’ forty. It was Becky who talked me into straightening my hair and going completely very light gray. I never looked back. It was also Becky who first introduced me to waxing more private areas. It started with a simple Bikini Wax and eventually moved on to a Hollywood Wax where every bit of hair is removed front and rear. I would be fresh and hairless for whatever might happen with Jillian. That evening I swam in my pool, bathed and shaved everywhere Becky didn’t wax anticipating Friday sunrise and Jill.
At that time in my life I was spending too much time thinking about my deceased wife Beth and feeling sorry for myself. I was frankly giving up on life in Florida. A pending move to North Carolina was inevitable and I looked forward to it but maybe Jill could provide a fun, delicious interlude.
The forecast for Friday was ‘Florida clear and sunny’ and later, by noon, it would be obvious that it would not disappoint. As I left my house it was still dark with sunrise still a half-hour away. As I approached the beach I saw in the shadows of the ocean that she was already in a chair waiting above the high tide line. I asked as I put my chair next to hers, “Hey cute girl, is this space reserved?”
Jillian turned and looked up at me and smiled. Even in the limited predawn light I noticed that she had worn some makeup. It made her look more sophisticated. She replied to my ‘….cute girl’ comment, “For you!”
I sat down and she seemed more relaxed than when we last spoke, more confident. She asked, “Do you think it will be beautiful?”
Smart ass that I am and feeling more confident in the Dr. Catherine connection I asked, “Do you mean the sunrise or the sex?”
Not to be outdone she replied, “I’m sure the chemistry is right for one to be splendid and a forever memory and the other is Florida weather and you can never be completely sure.” I like this woman. She takes my hand in hers on the arm of the chair and squeezes it lightly. The heat of her hand travels to my breasts, my nipples. Oh fuck I’m in trouble. Without thinking or reservation I let her continue to hold it. In the dark my other hand touches my shorts between my legs and yes the chemistry is right.
The conversation that consumed the remainder of the time before and during sunrise was frank and enlightening. Jill told me that Doctor Catherine introduced her to the group more than three years ago and that she had been with five of the women. She explained that she discovered she was bisexual in college and although she was later married, her current husband knows and understands. There was something about talking in the dark that made it easier. I told her a little about my past, my business, but did not mention Beth.
We did not discuss names of other women in the group except Nishi, the person who caused us to meet. Jill explained that Nishi had really opened her eyes to making love with another woman, even a virtual stranger. Up until then sex with other women was just that, sex, self gratification and sometimes flirtation with infatuation. Jill told me that she had tried to see Nishi again but “Nishi had a rule.”
I too had experienced the “Nishi rule.”
Jill asked me about Beth, my wife, and before I could speak she squeezed my hand tighter as if to give me sympathy and reassurance. I again registered a warning sign that was becoming a problem with this woman, she knew about Beth. How? I brushed it aside, Nishi knew and must have said something. I told her briefly about how Beth and I met and how we had a daughter, Beth’s daughter, my adopted daughter, Bailey.
Acting on instinct perhaps, Jill asked, “Is there something more you want to share about Bailey? I just have, a feeling.”
Alarm bells again. She could not possibly know. I push the question off by replying, “Maybe another time, maybe later.” If you, dear reader want to know, read my story titled “Bailey.”
She told me she was curious about why I did not want to see the pictures she took. I told her that it was because at the time I was suspicious of her motives.
She laughed and told me, “You should see the pictures. You are a beautiful woman and I’m a great photographer.”
I asked her to tell me about them. She replied again that she would be happy to show them to me. I pushed her, ” No Jill, humor me, describe them, describe how you see me.”
She hesitated and stumbled a little but finally got to it. “Look, that first picture, you were wearing a loose fitting white shirt and the sun was coming up behind you, your dark skin silhouetted and highlighted your body thru the thin fabric of your shirt. When you bent over to pick up something it almost looked like you were naked. Your breasts are beautiful.”
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