Jenny Wren
Chapter 7: Who will Clive be?

Copyright© 2014 by JenQuail

Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 7: Who will Clive be? - An old woman teaches her Great Grandson about love and sex.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   CrossDressing   Fiction   Incest   Grand Parent   Spanking   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Slow  

As we walked round the aisles of the supermarket picking out the bits and pieces I wanted, I asked if he felt sexy wearing his undies even though nobody but us knew. It was exciting, he confessed, and he loved the feel of his slacks brushing over the nylons.

We stacked the groceries in the boot and drove on into town, parking up in a multi-storey. I decided we'd have an early lunch and took him to a department store restaurant. Service was slow – it seems to get worse everywhere these days – and we were chatting idly until he excused himself, stood up and waved excitedly at someone in the queue, waving them to our table.

He sat down again and said, "It's Sandy. I wonder what she's doing here. You don't mind if she joins us?"

"No, she's welcome," I replied with a smile. Yesterday I had invited Sandy over for dinner today so it was quite a coincidence that she had come to the same restaurant as us for lunch. A few minutes later we were joined by a pretty, slim brunette with a happy outgoing smile. I prompted Clive to introduce us which he did.

Clive didn't get much chance to join the conversation. Sandy and I liked each other immediately and we were soon swapping gossip like old friends. It was her day off and she was in town for some shopping. Yes, we could shop together, she readily agreed, and she would come straight back with us rather than coming later. I enquired what she was shopping for and she was rather vague but whispered to me that she wanted a sexy nightie for tonight. I squeezed her hand and smiled knowingly.

Eventually our meals came and when finished we made our way to our first agreed port of call, the lingerie department. We were having a good look around and I hinted that I might make a servant out of Clive as he had looked after me so well yesterday and today. "Maybe a maid," I chuckled, looking over to the subject of our conversation speculatively.

Sandy half-whispered, "You wouldn't dare!" putting hand to mouth to suppress a giggle, her eyes flashing. "You would dare!" she exclaimed after seeing my little flicker of a smile and big conspiratorial wink. "Oh you wicked woman, Jen. Can I watch? I want to help!"

Later we were looking through a rack of pretty sets for her when she nudged me and nodded her head in the direction of Clive who stood there clearly bored but uncomfortable – embarrassed by the goods and the models on which they were displayed. Poor thing didn't know where to place his eyes. Giving Sandy another wicked wink, I called Clive over and to his mortification held a pair of frilly red panties to his waist. Sandy just collapsed into a fit of giggles on my shoulder, Clive went as red as the garment and made a bolt for the nearby shoe section. I checked the time and said I had to hurry.

We had just about made all the selections we wanted so we checked them out and picked up a sulky Clive as I led them out the store and up one of the side arcades. The shop I wanted was closed for lunch but at my knock on the door it opened and a tall black woman in full African costume beckoned us in.

"It's so good to see you again Jen. My god, it's been years. I was so surprised to get your call this morning but you will always be welcome. Let me look at you." She held me at arms' length. "You haven't changed," then hugged me close. My morning call had been to her, asking if she would let us in while the shop was closed for lunch.

"Pshaw, Akanke, you old flatterer, I'm an old witch now. It's you who hasn't changed. Still as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, my dear. If I look as good as you when I'm your age, I'll be happy." We hugged again. As you may have gathered, Akanke was an old friend of mine. She had arrived in this country a penniless young refugee and now had her own very successful shop in the middle of town. She designed, made and then hired out costumes for all occasions from fancy dress parties to the most formal of wear. Petey and I, along with several from our circle of friends patronised her when we first discovered this talented girl and later she became a close friend and proved very inventive in bed with me and my late husband.

"What can I do for you," Akanke turned to business.

"Not for me," I pointed at Clive, "for him." He nervously wondered what I meant. The look of horror on his face was a priceless picture when I said, "I want a maid's outfit for him." I didn't say why, nor did Akanke ask. She looked at him, measuring with her eyes then went to a back room, brought three costumes and led us into a small side room.

Spreading the outfits before us, we discussed the merits and failings of each – not many of the latter. I encouraged Clive to have some input in the decision. "After all," I said, "you'll be wearing it. Now take your top and slacks off like a good little boy." He blanched and looked more than a little unsteady on his feet.

 
There is more of this chapter...

When this story gets more text, you will need to Log In to read it

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.