This story, to my shame, is absolutely true. To save embarrassment to Helen, I have changed her name and some of the smaller details that might give a clue to her real identity. I don't know who will read this and would hate for it to get back to her and cause any difficulties.
I met Helen on line. Her handle was "Lady of Kent". The chat line was a free forum, I can't remember which one it was now and it doesn't really matter. Just that it was the vehicle that brought us together. We chatted over several months, slowly discovering little snippets about each other, developing an on-line friendship and enjoying each other's point of view.
However, in the nature of these chat-lines, we got onto things sexual. It was light hearted banter or flights of fancy only.
Helen's sexual experience was limited to say the least. She had married her first lover and apart from a one off with someone she had fallen for several years before, had never stepped out of her marriage. The one off was something she regretted deeply and realised that he had groomed her for his own gratification. It was only the one time.
Sex for her, was the once weekly missionary position, no variety, no excitement and very likely, nothing more than something functional. Her marriage had lasted for eighteen years and, apart from the initial setting up home and having children, had become stale and boring. I guess Helen was at the point in her life when she looked critically at herself and realised that time had passed her by and if she didn't do something quickly, she would be too old to find that spark of excitement she read about in magazines. I suppose she might have also thought that her girls, three of them, were holding her back from her desire. Helen wanted to learn, go to college and become self employed as an accountant. A dilemma to any woman, the pull of self development and opposite draw of motherhood, something Helen felt acutely.
I, on the other hand, could be considered something of a slut. My dick pointed the way and I invariably followed. I rarely, if ever, refused the opportunity to fuck an available woman. My thirty year marriage had survived by some miracle, mostly because I had managed to keep the two sides of my persona separate and also, I loved my wife. Loving her though wasn't enough for me. I liked the thrill of the hunt. I liked the conquering and submission of will. I had had many lovers over the thirty years, but always came home to a wife who loved me totally, with a blind faith that I really didn't deserve. Sex between my wife and I was anything but boring. Jen had discovered her liking for bondage, light sadism and masochistic sex. It made for interesting nights and repeated washing of bedding.
Lucky man you might think. I would have to agree, but I had a greed and hunger and as I said, loved the thrill of the hunt, chase and submission. Helen was, initially, the next subject of my attention. Chatting with her on-line was part of that hunt where, by stealth I gradually broke down her defences until we met one fateful day.
Neither of us could be called perfect specimens of the human race or particularly beautiful, but, in that short meeting on a sunny day at a Kentish zoo, physical attraction had been added to the on-line fancy we had developed. We didn't make love on that first meeting, but subsequent chats on-line took on a whole new direction. Gradually, Helen was persuaded that she really wanted to fuck my brains out and vice versa. I could be a calculating bastard, but that is just one of the weapons in the arsenal of a serial sex predator. Helen really had become enmeshed in a web of my making, my trap if you like. All that was needed now was the opportunity to spring it, then, once sprung, have my way and notch her as another conquest. (I will offer no defence to any accusation that I was a complete shit).
Helen provided the perfect opportunity. She was to travel to London with the company she worked for and be the representative on their stand at a wine exhibition in Olympia. Although she only lived approximately two hours travel away, she decided to stay in town. Now, I am sure that in the back of her mind, the chance to spend a night or two, away from home and in the arms of a lover, had more than a little to do with her planning.
I visited her while she was on the stand selling the wines her boss had brought up from Kent. Of course, she had dressed for the occasion and looked fabulous.
Wickedly, I goosed her and was pleased to see her blush scarlet while offering tasters to prospective customers. How she kept a straight face and level voice as she spoke to them with my hand up her skirt from behind beats me, but she did.
Helen had to be careful. Her boss was around and he knew her husband very well. I suppose the danger of discovery added to the thrill. She had been booked into a bed and breakfast locally to Olympia for the two nights she was to be away. I had other ideas though and had booked a suit in Selsdon Park Hotel just outside of Croydon. The cost I though, was worth it and would of course, impress her. Looking back, that might have been a mistake. It led to all kinds of troubles and recrimination, eventually to disastrous consequences to her marriage.
The show finished for the day. Helen went to the B&B with her boss, which complicated things a little and meant some frantic text messages asking me to wait and then having to change plans so that we arranged to meet at Victoria Station.
Feigning tiredness, Helen retired early, leaving her boss at the bar to go to her room. Carefully, she left the cheap hotel and made her way to Victoria Station and me.
We picked up my car and drove out to Croydon. Selsdon Park is a five star hotel. An old building covered in ivy. It sat in extensive formal gardens with a terraced lawn and has a championship golf course all around it. A night there is a small fortune in a suite but as I said, worth the expense.
Neither of us wanted to eat when we arrived and checked in. The food looked sumptuous, but our appetites were squashed by a mixture of excitement and nerves. The suite was all it could be, on-suite shower and bathroom, huge bed and a well-stocked mini-bar. The décor was a little dark for my tastes, but the carpet was so lush, it felt like you sunk into it.
Helen looked at me, silent and looking scared, like a rabbit in the head lamps of an on-rushing car. I asked if she was okay and if she wanted to back out of what we had planned. Somehow, she answered in the negative, despite the croak of a dry throat. I went for a shower, leaving her to prepare herself, make whatever calls she needed to and try to calm down a bit.
She was under the bed covers when I came back into the room. They had been pulled up to her chin, her clothes dumped over the armchair in an untidy heap, suggesting that she had hurried so that I didn't watch her get undressed. I could understand that, could understand her nervousness and trepidation. It was after all, her first real elicit experience, her first time of a planned sexual encounter outside of her marriage and also, the realisation of a shared fantasy between us, evolved from so many on-line conversations. I thought it best to just take things easily. It was just as well I had put on the bathrobe hung in the shower room because I think she might have bolted if I were naked, such was her nervous condition.
We shared a scotch and soda, with me sitting on the edge of the bed while she trembled under the covers. I stroked her cheek and smoothed her hair, trying to get her to settle. Gradually, the trembling subsided as the scotch and gentle stroking soothed her.
Inch by inch, the bed covers slipped from her as she sat and sipped her scotch. We spoke about anything that came to mind in a random order of inconsequence, delaying the moment that would be the first step to an adulterous coupling and something beyond where she thought she would ever go.
Gradually, I stoked her neck and shoulder, working my way down until I could release the sheet from where she had it trapped under her arm pits. I wanted to see her breasts. I wanted to fondle them and get to know her body more intimately.
She put up a token resistance to my hand tugging the sheet. It was not a serious attempt to keep covered. The sheet slipped down to around her waist and revealed her tits. They were small with inverted nipples and looked out of proportion with the rest of her. Helen was quite tall, had quite wide hips, but her tits were very small for her body size. I cupped one, which fitted in the palm of my hand quite comfortably.
"They are too small." She said and looked apologetically at me. "I don't wear a bra most of the time." I could see that she was embarrassed by their relative size.
"They are perfect. Any bigger would be a waste." It was an old line and not very original, but I hoped it would make her feel better. "Helen, you should never feel embarrassed about your body. It is an amazing thing and can do so much more than you know." Her inverted nipple had now become pronounced as it grew hard under my fingers. "You see how it responds? It truly is a remarkable thing."
I took her glass from her trembling fingers and placed it, with mine on the bedside cabinet.
Having brought one nipple to the surface, I thought to do the same with the other and then with both at the same time, using both hands.
"That's nice." She said, visibly getting into the feel of her tits being treated to a first class massage. Both nipples were now standing proud, not very big, but the complete opposite of inverted.
.... There is more of this story ...