Chapter 1: meeting Julia

Hi there. My name is Sally but nowadays I am more often called “Hole” or even much worse names. This is my story of how I ended up like this.

Let me tell you a little about myself when my story started.

I was 28 years old, divorced, and single for three years. I had a good job running a small online business selling Italian designer clothes to women with rich husbands. I may have been single but I was not celibate, although at that time I had not been with anybody for nearly a year

Physically I am blonde, blue eyes, and 5 feet 2, or 158 cms in metric terms. I am petite, weighing just 8 stone/112lbs or just under 50 kilos. I have small boobs 32A but big nipples out of proportion to the rest of me really and almost always obvious whatever I wear. I am told I have a cute bum. I have a flat stomach, quite wide hips which, with my slim legs, gives me a gap at the top of my thighs.

That gap shows my pussy clearly – my labia are fleshy and my clitoris is large and pops out from its hood when I am aroused. My pubic area is completely bald after I bought myself a course of laser treatment with my divorce settlement, a sort of “fuck you” farewell to my ex, that means I should now be hairless down there for life. With that gap and my large labia, I frequently have an obvious camel-toe if I wear yoga pants or bikini bottoms.

And because it is relevant indirectly to my story, I had an IUD fitted that meant I could have sex without worrying about pregnancy, although, as I said, I had been celibate for nearly a year. So, I am small, pretty I am told, and my nipples and camel-toe often attract admiring looks. And that was me when my story started.

I was at a business conference in London, which had been mind-numbingly boring, and had gone to the post conference drinks as I desperately needed one. I wandered around but did not really know anybody to talk to, and did not want to get hit-on by any sweaty men about to rush home to wifey, so very soon I was on my third glass of warm champagne and thinking about going home.

“God this is awful, isn’t it,” said a voice suddenly beside me. I turned to face an attractive dark-haired woman of about 40, who put her glass down on the pedestal I was leaning against, and held her hand out saying “Hi I am Julia and I see from your badge as she bent forward to look at my chest that you are Sally. How many of this rubbish champagne have you had?”

I giggled and said “Too many!”

“Do you fancy going to the pub next door and having a proper drink”

“Why not” I replied “I am in no rush to get home”

“Oh good” she smirked “neither am I”

It was late Spring and a lovely evening outside. Neither of us had heavy coats, just business-like jackets over tops and skirts. Although I was wearing four-inch heels, she was probably six inches taller than me and her killer heels made her look even taller. Her legs were quite shapely, like the rest of her.

As it was such a pleasant evening, we bought our drinks in the pub and went to sit outside, just round the corner from the pub as there was quite a crowd outside the front. We found a low wall in a surprisingly secluded space, and I followed her example and took my jacket off and folded it to sit on. Both of us had skirts that were mid-thigh length, so as we sat and both crossed our legs, both our skirts rose up our thighs.

I was bare-legged, as I dislike wearing stockings or tights at any time of the year, so as I crossed my legs a big slice of naked thigh was revealed and the hem of the skirt sat precariously close to being interesting for anybody watching us. However, when Julia crossed her legs, I saw she was wearing sheer stockings and, as her skirt rose up like mine, I saw the tan stocking top showing and one of the suspender straps and clip holding the stocking in place.

I was a bit embarrassed and tried not to look too much, but failed I knew. At the same time Julia was being less discrete as she looked brazenly at my small breasts. I was wearing a white sleeveless semi-transparent, cotton shirt. It was collarless and V-necked, with buttons down the front. My small, lacy, unlined, half-cup, white bra, with its front-opening, single hook sitting perfectly between my breasts, was completely visible through the shirt. However, with the jacket on all day, I did not think it was too revealing for a business event.

She was also wearing a white shirt with buttons undone down to nipple level, revealing a spaghetti-strapped white camisole underneath, and two very obviously bra-less breasts moving gently as she moved. While I thought my clothing was fine with a jacket on, I now realised I was showing nearly everything to her, and my nipples, prominent at the best of time, were reacting to the way she was now looking at me, and getting harder the longer she just looked at me. When she finally said “God Sally, you are gorgeous. You must have men after you all the time.”

I blushed and mumbled something unintelligible. I had never been with a woman and had never even thought about it, but for some reason this woman was making me feel quite flustered

“I tell you what” said Julia “Let’s go to a little restaurant I know round the corner from here, have a nice meal and a bottle of good wine and listen to some interesting conversation rather than the boring rubbish we have been listening to all day.”

Before I could speak, Julia had stood up and grabbing my hand said “C-mon gorgeous before some man spots you and entices you off to his man cave.” With that she started to march me off to her restaurant, giving me no time to do anything other than grab my jacket and bag in one hand as she pulled me along by the other hand.

As we rounded the corner, we had to squeeze through the big group of office workers all standing outside the pub. I was acutely conscious of my aroused nipples poking through my transparent shirt and bra, and saw a few male eyes looking at me as we shuffled through the crowd. Julia, as the older woman, was sort of shepherding me and protecting me as she led me down the street, still holding my hand, but telling me about the place we were going to.

When we entered the Italian restaurant, a smarmy older man greeted us at the door, giving Julia a kiss on each cheek, asking her who her delightful companion was. She laughed and introduced me as her new friend, Sally. She told him we had only met today and we had been bored to death by a bunch of talking men and needed a decent bottle of Barolo and a nice dinner to help us recover from the trauma.