The Stories Your Mother Never Told You — Part 13.

Mandy discovering that she could have a waist, and the way a corset helped her breasts look a little larger, was a revelation to the poor girl. I think her taste in underwear was rooted firmly in 1906. As she’d tried on the clothes I offered her I watched her.

She flitted girlishly from with thing to another, holding it against her and admiring herself in the mirror with a smile, a look of disapproval or a blush. She was enjoying herself, lost in the fun of playing with the clothing.

What was most interesting to me was not her lovely young body, but the way in which she seemed to glance at me. She was at once coy, but also inquisitive. It struck me that this was a woman who knew little enough of her own body, but also had a guilty curiosity for that of another woman. As you probably know I’ve slipped easily across several lines sexually. It was quite exciting to be the object of this young woman’s curiosity. While entertaining for me, it was quite clear she did not understand her own feelings.

Her wide eyed curiosity as I’d tried on a few clothes in my bedroom allowed me to play with her in an amusing manner. As I’d squeezed her nipple that day her eyes had closed and her breath quickened, but there was no withdrawal. It was a casual movement and I think she possibly thought she’d imagined it, but there was nothing imaginary about the way that firm little nipple had felt beneath my glossily painted nails.

It was amusing to me that when I allowed my fingers to linger on her body, as we’d been dressing that afternoon, she’d not once brushed me away. Her quickened breath told me her excitement was real, but at no point did she draw a boundary, or resist my fleeting touches. Brushing my fingers seductively over her tummy had merely resulted in her shallow breathing and closed eyes. I wondered how far I might take things before she might pull away, but didn’t press the issue at the time. Instead I resolved to progress a path of slow seduction over the coming days. After all, our innocent your newly wed was barely familiar with her own body. Pressing her to be a plaything for me was something I’d need to do with some forethought.

I felt my heart quicken a little as I pulled into the drive of the little rancher Mandy shared with her husband. I walked to the front door and knocked, the sun warming me as I waited. The door opened and Mandy hurried out, flustered and red faced.

“What on earth’s the matter,” I asked.

“Oh, Valerie! I’m just feeling a little overloaded. We had some things delivered earlier today. I still have things being shipped here, and it takes a lot of organising.”

“You shipped all your furniture from back east?” I asked.

“Well, it seemed the best thing to do,” she replied.

“I just bought new stuff here. It was a lot simpler,” I said, and it seemed this was an option that hadn’t occurred to her.

Mandy looked a little crestfallen and I realised I must have trod on some specially reserved territory. I decided to switch the subject.

“You’ll feel better when we’ve bought a few things. I’ve got lunch all set up at home,’ and I gave her a smile. “You’ll be fine,” I said.

We drove into town with the hood down and spent about an hour poking around Briden’s Department Store. Their lingerie department was not bad, though the selection was a little conservative. By the time we left there were half a dozen boxes to load into the car. They fell about on the back seat, the bags flapping in the wind as the convertible slid smoothly through the quiet streets.

It was early afternoon by the time I served up a salad on the back deck, and a warm wind was blowing in from the coast. I poured a glass of chilled white wine for myself and one for Mandy.

“Wine,” said Mandy, “with lunch?”

I smiled at her. I was still getting used to her conservative nature.

“Of course,” I said.

“But Valerie, I never drink until Stan’s home.”

I served the salad and we ate the light lunch while Mandy chatted about how she was going to be hosting Stan’s parents for Thanksgiving, and how she looked forward to having guests in the house. My own thoughts were steering more toward how Mandy might react as I pushed her onto the bed in my room and slid my hands into her panties, as I would shortly. Would she struggle? We’d see soon enough.

“Mandy,” I said coyly, “I found a few more things you could try on…”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t, Valerie,” she said blushing. Clearly she remembered the flirtations of a few days ago.

“I insist,” I said and took her hand. It felt small and childlike in mine. How confidence magnifies us. As I steered her into the house from the veranda she skipped easily along. Any resistance was easily put aside.

I pulled open the wardrobe and withdrew a tennis skirt.

“This would look lovely on you,” I said, and held it against her feeling the bony hips against my hands.

“Yes,” I said absorbed in the skirt, “you simply must try it on.”

Mandy turned away modestly and slipped off the long skirt she was wearing, revealing black panties looking tight against her taut round buttocks. These were quite an exciting pair of panties, high waisted and lacy.

“Mmmmm,” I said. “Those look nice. Are they new?”

Mandy half turned and blushed beetroot red.

“Yes, after we went shopping the other day I decided to go back and buy them. I thought Stan might like them,” she replied.

Stan might indeed like them, but she was wearing them for me. That much was quite evident, and as she stood there I told her to turn around so I could look at them properly. I ran my fingers over the fabric, pressing a little more firmly than necessary.

“Yes,” I mused. “A very nice cut. They show your shape off beautifully.”

I ran my fingers more intimately over the mound of her sex and slid two fingers more insistently between her legs, feeling her shudder.

“Valerie,” she said protesting, yet still I felt her hips pressing forward against my fingers. As I stroked the lacy material I could feel her pressure against my fingers.

“Oh, Mandy! Don’t be silly. I’m merely admiring these lovely panties. Besides, you can’t seriously tell me you’ve never been touched by a woman, can you?”

“Oh, I’ve never done anything like that. I’m not a lesbian!” she protested.

“Of course you’re not dear,” I said pressing her back against the bed until she eased her self down and sat on the edge. “Of course, you’re not,” I repeated, and then slid to the floor between her legs.

I moved firmly forward pressing her legs apart as she sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at her panties, my hand in the small of her back.

“I’d never do anything like that,” she continued, her enormous eyes staring at me.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,’ I said as I drew her closer, my eyes now lingering on her breasts. As I watched her I sensed she was almost hypotised by me, and looked deeply into her eyes. A moment later I leaned a little further forward, feeling her breath on my face, and I parted my lips.

Unasked, she leaned forward and kissed me lightly, a deep sigh coming from her, before pulling away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said embarrassed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t be silly,” I murmured and pressed my lips to hers once more. I held her closer this time, preventing her pulling away.

“But Valerie,” she said as I pushed her back flat on the bed. My kiss stifled further talk. I felt her warm flesh against mine as I leaned in the kiss and embrace. Sliding my hand between her thighs I inched it higher until I felt the gusset of her panties, and easily drew it aside. As my fingers gently touched her I felt the welcome moistness of her surrender, and she gripped my shoulders as her body welcomed me.

“I’ve never done this sort of thing,” she murmured, her breasts pressing against mine.

I took her hand and purposefully placed it between my legs.

“Well, Mandy, now’s as good a time to learn as any,” I said and pressed myself against her touch.

As her fingers suddenly became more bold she pressed her lips hungrily against my own. As I let her clumsily explore, I laughed to myself thinking that whatever Stan was missing out on, I was more than happy to enjoy with his wife. And Valerie was clearly happy to indulge herself. Soon she would be hungrily coming to me for what her husband couldn’t provide. Soon my innocent new friend wouldn’t be able to help herself.

We both know where this goes, don’t we?