9 comments/ 10747 views/ 0 favorites I, Skip (Autobiography) Ch. 01 By: skip.69 Looking back over the years I realise that I have been a very lucky man indeed. I have had the most wonderful wife who has been my companion through thick and thin, and this is my way of paying tribute to her, i.e. telling the whole world about her, although I have changed the real names of everyone I mention for obvious reasons. Patricia used to be a Dance Teacher, very highly qualified, and taught Ballet, Tap, Acrobatic, Modern and Old Time Ballroom Dancing. (I myself took out qualifications in ballroom dancing later on). We first met when she engaged me as her pianist to play for the children's classes. As the pianist I had a view of her which her pupils did not (I refer now to the ballet and tap classes), and although the pupils wore short tunics in class she, herself, more often used to wear her ordinary day-to-day clothes, and usually I was treated to the most enjoyable view from my position behind her; such as when she demonstrated an arabesque to the class, whereby she balanced on one leg with the other one stretched out in the air behind her - a cock-rousing view of stockings and suspenders and the gusset of her knickers! It was even more exciting on one occasion when she wore a pair of French knickers which I had given her for Christmas! (We had begun to give each other gifts even though there was nothing between us as yet. The French knickers were part of a set of can-can skirt, knickers and matching bra, as can-can skirts were all the rage at the time.) I saw everything, for, like most dancers, she kept herself shaved down there. It was after this display (of which she really must have been aware,) that I began to be a little bolder and at the end of this session when I would normally have just said "Goodnight" I ventured a kiss on the cheek. This peck grew each time we parted until I was giving her a real kiss, each time becoming stronger and going that little bit further, until I was fondling her. This fondling grew into groping, as you can imagine, and never did she object, even when I went so far as to buy her a pair of crutchless knickers and dared her to wear them at her next ballet class. She did! I saw everything, and she knew it! I based the character Stella on her when I wrote a story called "Stella the Dance Teacher". Most of this story was fantasy, although she really was invited to be a dance partner for one evening at one of her pupil's Works Dinner Dance. (This was quite some time before we became engaged and not long before I took her virginity.) Evidently his own wife had fallen down badly and was in hospital with two suspected broken ankles, and so he had no partner for the evening. He actually offered to pay her a fee, but she refused point blank and said that the night out would be sufficient payment in itself. And, as she said to me at the time, it could even help with publicity about her dancing school. She told me part of the story the next evening when I asked if she had enjoyed her night out, and she replied that she had really enjoyed it, and even asked me, jokingly, if it had made me jealous when she told me that he had kissed her goodnight. What happened, she said, was that at the end of the last waltz they had remained standing together and it had seemed a most natural thing to do for him to kiss her to say thank you for a wonderful evening. She told me much later, though, when we were having a really heavy petting session and were exchanging all sorts of confidences, that he then offered her a nightcap in appreciation and had taken her to his home in a taxi. Only later did he call for a taxi to take her to her own home. I have since discovered, and this I only found out after we were married and the occasion had been triggered by her seeing a look-alike on TV, that in the taxi he not only put his arm round her, but fondled her breasts outside her dress without any sign of rejection on her part. When they got into the house he had evidently offered her more to drink, but she had refused all except a small sherry. But, she then confessed, she had raised no objections when he started to kiss her and even push down the top of her dance dress. (I only found out later, when she actually wore the same dress on the occasion of our attending a Civic Ball together, that the dress was strapless and backless, and its only visible means of support seemed to be the under-wired bodice.) She later also confessed to me that she had enjoyed his fondling and went along with him, and when he started to raise her dress at the back, whilst they were standing and kissing, until he reached her knickers (she told me this one night whilst we were making love) she had made no move to stop him when he started to slide them down. (She also confessed that she had really enjoyed him doing it at the time.) In fact, she told me, she actually left them behind when she left as a souvenir for him. She claimed, though, that she was a virgin at the beginning of the evening, and also at the end when they parted company! I had to believe her, of course. Now, we were both aware of the dangers of sex before marriage as we did not want to harm her dancing career, and so we were extremely careful when fucking that I withdrew before I ejaculated. Neither of us liked condoms (or French Letters as they were called then), and so most of our sex took the form of "69". It was at the end of a particularly long session when she had had two Ballroom private lessons, plus a Ballet class plus a Tap class, that she ended up sweating, and after seeing the last pupils out of the studio she was as eager as I was to get undressed and sixty-nine on the floor. I was lapping away at her wet, sweaty pussy when I felt her mouth suddenly tighten on my cock and my own mouth filled with a hot salty liquid. She immediately broke away and cried out how sorry she was, almost crying as she confessed to peeing in her excitement. But I had enjoyed the sensation and even the taste, and told her I wanted to get back to her pussy and said that she could finish the pee - we could always mop the mess up off the floor afterwards! This is what started me out along this path. Patricia eventually tried receiving mine and we never looked back. It was shortly after that we got engaged and finally married. As you can imagine, Patricia and I have had a very full sex life, but I am afraid that was in the past. When she started her menopause she hardly noticed any changes, but I did. Her sex-drive diminished and became almost non-existent. Since then I have had to make every move and she just accepts it but does not enjoy it, which tends to make me feel inadequate. This is probably the reason why I turned to writing stories and searched the Internet for similar ones. That was when I found Literotica. Prior to her "change", though, we really did enjoy sex to the full. I think I said, too, how we used to enjoy "69" long before we got engaged and how she inadvertently allowed some pee to flow into my mouth. Later on this became the norm whenever we were in that position. In fact, we usually had to strip off so as not to soak any clothing. This used to take place in her studio, and also meant that we had to be sure that everyone had gone home before we started anything. We both got used to controlling our flows so that it did not cause the other one to gag due to peeing at too fast a rate. We were nearly caught once, though, when a parent came back to see if she had left her scarf and Patricia called through the dressing room door that she was changing and would be out shortly! To show how far we went in these adventures, too, there was one occasion in particular that I remember. Between classes we usually had a break of about five minutes while we had a cup of tea or coffee. We had been trying China tea, I remember, and so when Patricia brought me a warm cup of amber liquid I naturally thought it was this China tea. It was not! It was her pee! Anyway, apart from laughing at how I had been fooled I toasted her health and drank it right down! We also fulfilled our sex life in other ways. If we were to go out for a birthday or an anniversary (and there are a number of occasions when you can think of some kind of an anniversary, like when we first met, or when we got engaged, and so on) she very rarely wore any knickers or bra. In winter she used to wear a coat of course, although once the car was warmed up she would take it off again, and we would find a nice quiet spot for some play. (We had one or two places which we regularly used to park.) In summer we had to be careful owing to it still being daylight, but we always managed to find somewhere quite secluded. There was one occasion, though, when we were going at it hammer and tongs in the back seat when we became aware of someone hovering outside. We quickly broke apart, but on seeing another couple outside out car in a tight clinch, we were not sure whether or not we had been spied upon. However, we shrugged it off, and silently agreeing that had this other couple been watching us it was evident from their own activity that there was no way they were going to take any offence. If we ever went to the cinema she would dress similarly. The only things she ever wore then beneath her dress (never trousers) were hold-up stockings. These occasions are now just a memory to me. If I ever try to remind her of how she used to dress for me she just says something like, "Happy Days. Gone forever, I am afraid." And then she reminds me that she is a little older now. At around the age of 30 I was fortunate enough to get a headship in a primary school in Berkshire. Housing was a difficulty, and we had to start with a council flat whilst we looked for suitable accommodation. Then we found that there was an old pub which had just had its licence used to build a newer one by the brewery, and a developer was renovating it into a private house. It suited us no end. Spacious, big garden, cellar, lots of rooms including a very large room attached to the main building, like an outhouse yet still attached, which the pub had used as a storage. I was just getting into photography at the time, and so the cellar became my dark-room, and the large side-room became a studio. I say studio, because it was long and I was able to erect some background whenever I wanted to, so as it make into whatever I chose. It also doubled as a dancing studio for Patricia, and we erected mirrors along the walls for the dancing, which also helped with the lighting for the photography. I liked doing portraits, actually, and although I was a Headmaster I began to get a reputation as well for people to come for passport photos, or portraits to send to families or whatever. Now, with a sex-life like mine, it also became a studio for naughtier things, to put it mildly. Patricia and I would pose for one another, and often together using a self-timer, and I had a selection of Patricia in various costumes and stripping until she was showing as much as she could. And she took similar photographs of me. One advantage of living in Berkshire was that Patricia's' younger sister (she was eighteen years younger than Patricia with a brother in between) was at a Stage School in Sussex, and we were able to visit her from time to time. But eventually on reaching the age of eighteen she was able to leave the school and, as we were so close to London, she came to stay with us so that she could attend auditions. One of the things she had learnt was she needed a portfolio, and had some professional photos taken for that purpose. When I saw them she asked me if I could expand on them and save the high fees she had to pay. So, naturally, I did so, and as her brother she was quite open about suggesting such as "should I show a little more leg for this one?" and other similar remarks. What I did not realise straight away was that she had evidently developed a "crush" on me, and as an eighteen-year old who had been cooped up in an all-girls school she had pent-up frustrations which needed to come out. Anyway, I took the pictures, none of which showed more than one would have shown to a maiden aunt, although there were two when she wore what was, for the times, a revealing bikini. By today's standards it would now be looked at as a huge "cover-up". She did attend one or two auditions, but seemed to get nowhere at first. She did eventually get fixed up with a repertory company, but that was later on. I remember, though, that one day she had gone for an audition and had said she would stay in London overnight, as she would be having another one on the following day. So Patricia and I took the opportunity to have another "studio" session, involving both of us completely stripped off. It was only when we came out of the studio to go into the lounge (still both naked) that we saw with a bit of a shock that Pippa had come home unexpectedly and we were both glaringly nude! Patricia was quite nonchalant about the whole thing -after all they were sisters - but I felt a little embarrassed and slipped back again to me myself decent again. When I came back into the room, though, both girls were laughing. Patricia was still naked, and seemed not in the least embarrassed, but as I came in again she told me that Pippa was quite blasé about it all. "Look," she said to me, "You are family, aren't you? And it is possibly time for my little sister to understand that there is a difference between a man and a woman, after the seclusion she has had until now." Pippa nodded agreement, and then dropped the bombshell. "So perhaps we can continue with my portfolio, but with poses similar to those that Patricia was making for you when I peeped into the studio and neither of you had noticed!" she said. I was taken aback a little, but Patricia was more composed." Like I said," she added, "We are all family together. As long as you go no further than photographs I do not see what harm there can be." "Now?" asked Pippa. "Then perhaps I can take some of the less daring ones with me the day after tomorrow." She then explained that tomorrow's auditions had been postponed, which was why she was home when she was not expected. I looked at Patricia, and then agreed. So once more we went into the studio, Patricia still starkers, and Pippa asked me how I wanted her to pose to begin with. But it was Patricia who prompted me and told me that when I had been taking photographs of her I, too, had been nude. Pippa agreed, with a wicked grin on her face, and said, "After all, if I am going to show you mine, it is only fair that you should show me yours!" To cut the story short, then we gradually had Pippa posing, less clothing on her each time, until she took off her bra. Naturally I gaped at them, and Pippa, with a tinkle of a laugh said, "It's all right. You are not the first man to see me like this!" Then, with a quick action her knickers followed suit as she went on, "Or like this!" Patricia and I looked at her in some slight wonderment, but she laughed and told us that the school doctor was a man, and that the girls had all grown used to him seeing them naked. Her poses were quite innocuous, though, other than the fact that she was naked." Another thing," she said. "If I am going to succeed on the stage this will not be the last time I have to show myself off to an audience!" Anyway, the session ended without any misbehaviour from any of us, and next day I developed and printed the pictures which we felt would be best suited for her portfolio. About a week later and Pippa had still not succeeded at any of her auditions, she confessed to me (being out of Patricia's hearing) that she had been offered a job as a hostess in a club, but had decided to turn it down, as she had a very good idea what would really be expected of her. "But perhaps I could pretend to be one for once, so after you and Patricia settle down after dinner for a quiet drink, perhaps I should dress up and serve you as if you were in a night club. What do you think?" "If it would make you happy, anything goes in this house as you know," I told her. We agreed to keep it as our little secret for the time being, and so, once dinner was over and I had washed the dishes (no dishwashers in those days) Patricia retired into the lounge and switched on the TV, whilst Pippa excused herself and said she was going to her room. Once I had finished I went to join Patricia in the lounge, and asked her if she fancied a drink. When she replied yes I rang a little bell Pippa had given me, much to Patricia's surprise, but she was even more so when Pippa immediately appeared. But it was her mode of dress which surprised us both. She had put on a white blouse, fairly see-through, and underneath which her breasts were free, with no bra. Her skirt (and remember that mini-skirts had not been invented in those days) was one of her school ones, which she had rolled at the waist in order to shorten it to mid-thigh. She also wore stockings - black ones, with suspenders which were fully on view owing to the brevity of the skirt! Patricia was highly amused, but when I tried to slide my hand along the back of Pippa's leg I was rebuffed in no uncertain terms. Then she laughed, and said "I'm not that kind of a hostess. At least, I'm not pretending to be!" Had this been a fictional story which I had written for Literotica I would have written in great detail about how I fucked Pippa. I did not. I respected her age, and the fact that she was Patricia's sister both helped me to keep my head about it, even though she was giving me the "come-on" most of the time. Anyway, a week or so later she got the part of Dick Whittington's cat in panto in Torquay, and from there she moved into rep. Next time we saw her she had grown up, but I shall leave my story here for now. I, Skip (Autobiography) Ch. 02 In spite of one particular uncalled-for sick comment made to my last submission, I am still going ahead with this narrative as I firmly believe that 99.9999999999% of readers are genuine healthy individuals. This is for them and not the vindictive ones. That particular comment was so abusive that I deleted it immediately, and I would do so again. Please note: The events I am describing do not relate in any way to the order in which I wrote my stories. I wrote those when odd recollections caused me to remember these events, and I subsequently composed stories round them. * In my last chapter I said that I had been appointed as a headmaster in a primary school in the South of England. Until then only the largest schools had secretaries, but a new system meant that we were also entitled to have one in the future. Until then, as a teaching Head, I had been able to bring in a supply teacher for two afternoons a week so that I could attend to some of the administration. Most of the admin, though, had to be done after school hours in my own time. But this new post of secretary would also be for two half days per week, and I felt it would probably be easier if we were to make it on the same afternoons so as to be able to communicate better. I duly advertised, and obviously I received a number of replies. These varied, of course, from completely and obviously incompetent applicants to some who seemed to really fit the bill. I managed to short-list these applicants, and duly wrote to the others informing them that they had been unsuccessful. I saw each of the short-listed candidates in turn, explaining to each that they were only one out of the final six candidates, but promising that I would let them know by the end of the week. I saw these applicants in the evenings, this being the time which suited all of us, and would have been happy with any one of the first three I saw. They were all fairly young, and were all parents of children in the school. The next one I saw was slightly older, but seemed quite competent. Then the next one proved disappointing, and I immediately dismissed her from my list, although I said nothing to upset her at the time. But it was the last one who really made me say to myself, "This is the one". She had been a school secretary prior to moving into the area with her husband, and seemed extremely competent. She also made me look at her twice, mainly because whilst we were speaking together she sat quite nonchalantly with legs crossed, causing her wrap-over skirt to fall back until she was displaying far more of her thigh than was usual in those days. (This was well before Mary Quant and her mini-skirt era.) I could not help looking, and I must have made her aware of my interest there, for she smiled, looked me fully in the eye, and said, "Sorry if I am distracting you." She then pulled the material together, but as she remained with her legs crossed a slight movement from one of them immediately caused the same thing to happen again as the material fell away from her thigh, but this time even further causing the stocking top to appear. I was silently hoping for a further movement which might (hopefully) cause it to fall further and reveal her suspender or naked flesh! Anyway, the interview continued, and as I said, she was obviously the most competent applicant, even forgetting the added interest in her that I now had. I told her, there and then, that the post was hers, and that I hoped that she could start the following Monday. She was agreeable to that, and so we said good-night, and I got down to writing the letters to the unsuccessful candidates. On the following Monday morning, therefore, we were all assembled in the staffroom and Mrs. Steadman was introduced to the others. ("Call me Mary, please, while we are in the staff-room at least," she asked, and we all agreed but also affirming that her full name would always be used outside that room.) I had already explained to her that we had no separate room for her to use as an office, but she said she would be quite happy to share mine until such time as we could make arrangements for a secretarial room. Again, we had no secretarial desk, either, and the only furniture she could use was one similar to mine -- a table and chair, although her table had on it the telephone and the typewriter which she would be using. So I was able to look across at her and without apparently seeming to do so I could once again gaze at that display of hers, now a little more obvious than in the interview, owing to the fact that without even crossing her legs the split in her kilt allowed it to fall open, so that I was treated to a lovely display of inner thigh and stocking tops when she seemed unaware of having her knees slightly parted, as she used to do whenever she was typing. Mary was the one I later based my story on called: "My New Secretary". She was the obvious model for this story, for she never seemed to care that she was showing on occasions what a previous girl-friend of mine used to call "next week's washing". In other words, there were times when she casually sat typing with her knees sufficiently parted for me to be able to see right beyond the suspenders and the naked thigh to where a hint of black or white material offered itself to view. I was sure that she knew what she was doing, but, gentleman that I was, plus my being aware of my position as headmaster, I never made any insinuation to even make her aware of what I was seeing. Actually, it came to a head on the day she was leaving, as her husband had once again been posted to another area. We gave her a little party in the staff-room, and then, when all the rest of the staff had gone home I called her into my study again as I wanted to give her a little personal present of my own. As we stood chatting, and I had given her a present over and above the one the staff had given to her, she handed me a small packet, gave me a quick kiss, and went out to meet her husband who was waiting for her in the car park. As I waved them off I went back into my study and opened the packet, inside which was another packet and a note, which read: "Thanks for being such a terrific boss. I shall miss you, and I shall miss your searching eyes. I can only hope that my replacement will be as accommodating as I hope I have been for you, and as a souvenir of our time together in your study I am making a small gift which will, I hope, remind you of me and the times you have eagerly stared at what I am now enclosing. Love and kisses, Mary." I opened the package, the contents of which I was now expecting after that note, and I was right! It was a pair of her lacy white knickers! Had I missed out, I wondered? Then I thought again. If she had wanted to go further I am sure that I would have received better signals. No, I decided -- she was just teasing me all along. My next secretary, though, was not as exciting. She was partly responsible for my story about "My New Secretary", though, inasmuch as she was not happy using a table, and asked if it would be possible to have a proper desk with a front panel. She probably felt vulnerable, I suppose. This gave me the idea of a story (many years later, of course) about a modesty panel. The idea about the evening class teacher came about a different way. Patricia was now teaching at a college some distance away, and was lecturing on "The History of Dance" to mature students. I had to pick her up after classes. One evening I noticed a very pretty young teacher who was teaching students for O-level English. Her classroom door was open, and I could see quite clearly inside the classroom, where I particularly noticed the way her students were looking quite lecherously at her. But it was her attitude which I noticed most, for she seemed to revel in their scrutiny, and returned their banter with suggestive remarks of her own. It was easy to see how her students were mentally undressing her, and she accepted this attitude with a smile. What gave me the idea for the story, though, was the way that she was perched on the front of her desk. She had one leg carelessly crossed high, her ankle on her knee, and clasping her knee with both hands, and this was causing the higher leg to leave a gap beneath so that her thighs must have obviously been on view to the entire class. I remember wishing at the time that I had been in that particular class! As I said before, though, Patricia and I had a high sex drive, and so I had no compunction in telling her what I had seen and the wish that I had been in the class whilst we were driving. In fact, even though it was not one of our special occasions, the possible implications of what I had seen started to make me feel horny, and so I drove to one of our regular secluded spots, where I stopped the car. Patricia looked at me in an amused way, anticipating what was going to happen -- and it did. "I presume you want my knickers off, you randy sod!" she laughed, and promptly jumped out of the car and in the bright moonlight she deliberately unzipped her skirt, following that by tugging off her lacy knickers. "Outside, or on the back seat?" she asked, as her top and bra followed suit, so that she was now fully naked. I remember this occasion vividly, as the sight I had seen of her fellow teacher was imprinted in my mind for a long time. And so was the follow-up with Patricia as we made violent love in the open air on that moonlit night. It was shortly after that, though, that I made a decision which was hard to make at the time, but probably was the right one in retrospect. We had been struggling for some time on the poor rate of salary I was getting. Teachers, at that time, were very poorly paid, and as a Headmaster I found myself actually on the lowest salary of the whole staff - that was the way the system was in those days. Because the rest of my staff were much older than me, all I earned was my basic teacher's salary plus extra increments, and they were higher up the scale incrementally. Just before I resigned as a head, though, a new pay structure came into place whereby there was now a separate Head Teacher Salary Scale. But even this meant that I was still on a rate of pay which compared unfavourably with my contempories in other occupations. I decided to leave teaching and to go into Educational Publishing. Here, starting at the bottom as just an Educational Representative for a large Publishing House I found that I was not only on a higher salary, but also had a company car and expenses! But it was now, also, that I not only discovered new situations to form the basis for more stories (although these were only written years afterwards) but it also meant that I was away from home for long periods, and with my sex-drive this started me on the road of sex outside of my marriage. I had been attending a Teacher's Conference as an exhibitor, as Educational Exhibitions were always part and parcel of these conferences. Staying in the same hotel were two young teachers and I was pleased when they accepted my invitation to be my guests at the Publishers' Dinner and on the following night the Publishers' Ball. It was at the Ball that I discovered that one of them, whom I shall call Morag, was a bronze medal dancer. (Her name was a Scottish one, but I have substituted another Scottish name here for her own privacy). I found later that her mother was Scottish, which explained the name. After the Ball, though, I said that I would run her back to our hotel in my car (the other teacher had decided to accompany a male friend of mine, also staying in the same hotel). She looked at me a little quizzically and said, "Directly back? Or should we have a short ride first?" There was only one answer to that, and I drove to the next town along the coast, chatting all the time, and finishing up in a deserted car park by the shore. I stopped there, and decided to try my luck -- after all she had suggested the diversion -- and turned towards her for a kiss. She responded willingly, and I tentatively reached out to fondle her breast over her clothing. Her only response was to intensify the kiss, and I naturally took this as an invitation to explore further. I slip my hand inside her open top, deftly popping open a couple of buttons as I did so, and again found no resistance. Her bra was a little tight, but I did manage to sneak an odd finger down to caress one of her nipples, and again her only response was to continue in the kiss. "This is my lucky day," I thought, and removing my hand began to slide it underneath her skirt. Again there was no resistance, until I reached the crutch of her tights. She parted her legs slightly for me to give me better access, but when I attempted to insert my hand down the front of her tights and knickers she pushed me away. But before I could say anything she spoke first. "If we are to see each other again we must leave something for the next occasion!" See each other again? She was willing, then, but I had to bide my time? These thoughts immediately passed through my mind as I asked her where she was from. She gave me her full address, actually, and I made a mental note to visit that area after the end of the Easter break. I told her, though, that it was a coincidence that I would be in that area shortly, but I was sure she knew that I had only just decided on that. To cut the story short, I did visit the area, and at the pre-arranged time that we had set I waited close by. Shortly afterwards the door opened and she came out, and then chided me for not having knocked on the door. Anyway, she invited me in, and I met her parents, neither of whom appeared in the least concerned that I was almost twice Morag's age. In the light inside the house, though, I was able to see her better. Whereas last week she had appeared as a typical infant teacher, although not dowdy as this expression might have implied, she was now very much transformed. Her hair was neatly set, and whereas last time we had met she had been wearing a kilt of a decent length, as befitted a school-teacher, tonight she had changed for a very short kilt, about half-way up her thighs, and (what I found out later to be) suspenders and stockings. She kissed both her parents, then took my arm as we left, her father calling out that he hoped she would enjoy herself. ("Not as much as I hope to enjoy myself", I thought.) We did eat, having travelled some distance away to a restaurant which her father had recommended. Afterwards she directed me to a secluded spot (she must have known the area quite well) where we stopped the car and I obviously started to continue what I had started the last time we had met. Once again there was no resistance as I fondled the upper half of her body, but when I came to slide my hand under her kilt I found the bare thigh above her stocking with its suspender, and continued to slide upwards. Then I reached her warm silk-covered knickers, and this time there was no opposition when I slowly slid my finger under the edge until it reached its goal. She broke our kiss then, to say, "I am wearing knickers tonight as it is the first time we have gone out together properly, although I seldom wear any when I am on a date. It's a habit I picked up from Mom. But if you prefer I can always wear some in future. Which do you wish me to do?" There was only one answer to that! But I was also a little surprised with her reference to her Mom's 'habit'. I decided to say nothing about that, but took her hand to put onto my own hardened cock. To my surprise, though, she pulled her hand away immediately. "Like I said last time," she laughed. "We must save something for the future. Next time I will really hold it, but if you want to go further than that it will also have to be in the future. I'm no virgin, as you can tell, thanks to my first boy-friend at college, but at least you will have something to look forward to." It was a long time afterwards that I wrote the story about her. The story may be a little embellished in places, especially when I describe her mother's mode of dress when she came out with me, but otherwise it is a true story. Unfortunately I heard last year that she had suffered from a heart problem, and that she had died on the operating table. I was severely shocked and distressed when I heard, and so was my wife, Patricia, who had met her but thought that we had only been good friends. Anyway, that was the start of my "straying from home", as it were. Having to be away from home for a week at a time (my territory covered the whole of the West Midlands and northwards to the far reaches of Scotland) not only gave me some freedom, but also gave me urges by enforced abstention until I was home again. I was about to wander some more. I, Skip (Autobiography) Ch. 03 Firstly, here is another episode for the sick anonymous critics to add their nauseating comments to. To the vast majority of readers I apologise for the above remarks, because I know that you are normal, sane, healthy people who would only criticise because there is something in the story to criticise. I ended my last chapter where I had just begun to represent an educational publishing house and mentioned my very close involvement with someone who was some fifteen years younger than I was. My work consisted mainly in visiting schools, especially primary schools, but also in attending or even organising book exhibitions for these teachers to visit. This work was quite rewarding, socially as well as professionally, and being away from home gave me opportunities to stray, although I must confess that I did not stray too often unless circumstances gave me the opportunity. But mainly I gathered and stored titbits of incidents which called out for expansion into stories. Some of them happened exactly the way I described them in my stories, but others were embellished considerably via my imagination. One of these occasions arose when I was visiting a secondary school and had asked to see the Special Needs teacher. To my surprise, and much to my delight, she turned out to be a woman with whom I had become friendly whilst still at college. Penny had been teaching prior to going to college, and afterwards I visited her whilst she was a student in another teacher training college. We seemed to have a lot in common then, and I did also meet her on occasions after we had both qualified, but these meetings gradually died out. We naturally remade each other's acquaintance and I visited her quite a few times whenever I was in the area. This is when she told me, as we were having a quiet drink one evening, that for the past four or five years she and a very close friend of hers, Janice, whom I also knew from my college days, had holidayed in the Greek Islands together, but without their husbands. She said that neither of their husbands had any wish to go abroad, and they had mutually agreed that the two "girls" could holiday in this way. Mind you, this was before the days of "Shirley Valentine"! Next time I met her I had a pleasant surprise. As had become usual, we had arranged for a drink together in the evening, completely with her husband's knowledge, as he knew that we were old friends and I had actually visited them in their home. During this particular evening, though, she started to expand on the Greek Holiday, and had actually brought some photos to show me. There was nothing remotely sexual about the pictures, though, other than the fact that they both wore very small bikinis in some of the pictures, until I noticed one that must have slipped her attention, for as soon as she saw what it was she hastily snatched it back from me. They were both topless in this picture, together with an Adonis of a man standing between them, and with arms around each other's backs. Their bikini bottoms were even smaller than the previous pictures, seemingly with more string than actual material! At first she started to apologise for allowing me to see that particular photograph, but when I reassured her that I was not shocked in any way, she finally allowed me to see it once again, explaining that on their last holiday she and Janice had actually become friendly with two Greek boys, their Greek "toy-boys" she called them. More than that, though, she would not tell me. I often wonder how close to the truth my fantasy story about them was, as told in my story "Greek Island Encounter", although naturally I had changed their names. My story about the "Headmistress" was also based on fact. I had gone into an infant school and had knocked on the Head Teacher's door, as was the usual thing to do in those days. A voice inside called me to come in, and I was greeted by the sight of a fairly young (for a Head Teacher) woman who was squatting on the floor, sitting on her ankles, knees well apart, as she tried to pick up some straws which had evidently fallen onto the floor. I was treated to a vision of stocking tops, suspenders and a particularly wide open display of her lacy knickers before she realised that I was not one of her infants, and she clambered to her feet, quite embarrassed. I pretended that I had seen nothing, and calmly introduced myself as if I was completely unaware of her recent display. I must admit, though, that she quickly recovered and after a few awkward moments she continued as if I had only just entered the room. I went through my spiel, and then, as so often seemed to happen in these circumstances, we started to have a little chat, as was normal. She seemed a little more relaxed, but, as I was leaving, she did call out, "Please -- next time you call can you cough as you come in so that I know it is not one of my children?" I turned to her and saw that she was certainly more composed and was actually smiling. "After all," she added, "I do not make a habit of showing what is normally reserved for my husband's eyes only: At least -- not to every Tom, Dick and Harry." Her face gave away the fact that she had not only fully recovered, but was actually seemingly amused. I have immortalised this episode in my story, "The Headmistress." Book exhibitions meant that we representatives had a chance to meet one another again, as in spite of working for rival companies there was always camaraderie amongst us. There was always a lot of banter as well, as one can imagine, irrespective of the sexes. It was when a few of us were enjoying a tea-break that the subject of blue films cam up. There had been a programme on TV the previous evening about this subject, and as we were chatting Mandy (as I called her in the story and I shall call her now to respect her privacy) said quite innocently, "I have never seen a blue film." No more was said, though, at the time, but later on as I met her in one of the aisles she brought the subject up again. "Have you ever watched a blue film?" she asked. I nodded, thinking no more about it, other than to tell her that there were cinemas (of a kind) which showed such films here and there throughout the country. Mandy, though, seemed determined to pursue the subject, and asked me if there were any in the town where we now were. I knew that there was one, and told her so, then cheekily I asked her if she would like to go to see such a film with me. To my surprise she took me up on the offer. That evening saw us together, and as I said in my story, it happened to be "couples night". The story, though, was very much embellished, for apart from heavy petting (as it is sometimes called) we went no further. In any case, we worked for completely different companies and only met at long intervals. Also, I did not really know her apart from her being an acquaintance and noticing that she was wearing a wedding ring. There was one particular book exhibition, though, which will always remain engraved in my memory. It was to take not far from Patricia's home town, and Pippa, (my wife's sister) now 30 years of age, had recently suggested that we come and stay with her for a few days as she had just bought a two-bedroom flat. This would be an opportunity for me to stay somewhere far more homely than the eternal hotel scene which surrounds the life of a rep. So Patricia called Pippa and suggested that I might stay with her for the three days involved, although she herself would be unable to come as she had too many standing commitments. Pippa seemed to hesitate, but agreed and said that she was looking forward to my coming. I duly arrived, and was greeted warmly by Pippa by her usual intimate kiss. "I'll show you round the flat, first," she said to me, and took me round the dining-room-cum kitchen, the lounge where there was a sofa, two chairs and a Television set. She then took my to the "second bedroom" where I had assumed I would be sleeping, but which was obviously being used by someone else, judging by the state of the room. "I have a lodger, Nerys. She is Welsh," she explained. "She is due home from work at any time, but I am sure you will get on with her when you see her. So you will not be able to use this bedroom as you probably expected. But my bed is a double one, too, and perhaps we can make up for what did not happen when I stayed with you after leaving school!" I looked at her in some surprise, but she countered this with a laugh. "You've seen me completely naked in the past; you touched me enough then, too, although not where I wanted you to touch. Now you will be able to have the opportunity properly!" I could not refrain from giving her a huge kiss, which she naturally took to be my agreement to this arrangement, and my hands were just beginning to explore when we heard the key turn in the door to the flat. "This must be Nerys," said Pippa, as we broke contact once again. Nerys was dark-haired, and as soon as she spoke she was obviously Welsh, with that lovely singing tone which the Welsh have. Pippa introduced us, as Nerys said that she had not expected Pippa to be at home today. "I thought that you were staying with Ben. Is this not one of the nights when he is at home?" Pippa answered me first, to tell me that she was more or less engaged to a divorcée and that he worked a lot from home, so that she was only able to go to stay with him when he was not away, naturally. Then she told us both that there had been a change of arrangements in his work and that he would be away tonight, plus the fact that I would be staying here for the next three nights. She then explained to Nerys who I was and how, quite a few years ago when she was still a teenager, she had had a crush on me but that we had never had the opportunity to sleep together. She then added that she intended making up for that tonight, as she went on, "So I hope our love-making will not disturb you too much, Nerys." Nerys just looked amused, but then said something like, "If it does I shall have to come in and spank you both!" Anyway, Pippa had prepared a meal, and told Nerys that tonight it was her treat as I was her guest, and we had a beautifully meal of peppered steak, if I remember rightly. But after we had all seen to the washing-up, Nerys said that she wanted to watch TV, but Pippa told her that she could hardly wait to get into bed. "The big difference is that nowadays I am on the pill, whereas I was not as a teenager, so (and she actually used these words) Skip can fuck me anyway he wants with no holds (or holes) barred! But then she added to Nerys, "If you really do feel like watching us, though, I for one would not object!" Nerys just grinned, and said that she just might do that, but we left her there at that point and went into the bedroom, where Pippa lost no time in stripping off completely. The first thing I noticed, though, was that she had really matured. Her breasts as I remembered them were small and firm with rosy pink nipples -- now they were well developed, although still firm and enticing. As her knickers came off I could see, too, that she had kept up the practice of shaving, and whereas again all that time ago I remembered her dainty and demure pussy lips, now they were far more prominent and positively inviting. I was no sluggard, either, and had matched her haste in stripping off, so that seconds later we were already making up for all that time ago when I had held back because of her age and relationship. Now, though, all inhibitions had been cast aside, and we went at it like two newly-weds. And so it was throughout the night. I do not know if Nerys did take up the invitation or not -- if she did she was very discreet about it, but I do not think she did so. Next morning we all had work to face, and Nerys was one of the first out. As I went to go next Pippa naturally gave me a kiss, but then dropped a small bombshell. "I shall not be here when you come back tonight. Ben will be at home, and I always sleep with him when he is not away. He knows you stayed here last night, but I presume he thinks you would have slept on the sofa. It just proves he does not know me as well as he thinks, yet. But I have asked Nerys, and she will bring you round to Ben's this evening for a meal together, and then you can meet him properly -- but remember -- not a word about last night! Otherwise I might be tempted to tell Patricia!" Then she added, slyly, "As if I would!" Ben was a delightful fellow, although he was my own age, and divorced even though he was a catholic. And I could not help feeling in the back of my mind that I could see what he saw in Pippa -- I was almost jealous, but only almost. I knew that should Pippa and I ever be alone together anywhere it should be him getting jealous, although I greatly doubted whether or not he would ever get to know about it! And neither would Patricia. That night, after Nerys and I had said goodnight to Pippa and Ben, we were alone in the house together. But after the previous night which I had enjoyed with Pippa I felt absolutely horny, and it seemed natural that when Nerys and I were saying goodnight to go to our separate rooms we should at least give one another a token kiss. At least, the intention from me had been to make the kiss a token. But Nerys seemed to have other ideas. Her kiss to me was stronger than mine had started out to be, and soon we were kissing a little more intimately than just a gentle peck. Her intentions became clearer when she said to me, "You are going to miss Pippa tonight, aren't you? What if I told you that my bed is big enough for two?" I broke away to look at her more closely. She was much younger than Pippa, no more than twenty, I thought. Yet, she was already divorced. I wondered, at the back of my kind, what the reasons for the break-up had been. Then I dismissed those thoughts, as even much more sensuous ones came in their place. But then, as if reading my thoughts, Nerys said, "I miss my ex, and it gets so lonely in bed by myself. But when I found that he was sleeping with two other women when he was not with me I ordered him out of the house and started divorce proceedings. He went to live away in another part of the country, and I don't know where. But I have really missed him, and if I could I would have him back tomorrow, and bugger who else he is fucking! I'd put up with all that just to have him back." "So you see," she said as she looked me fully in the eye, "I was really jealous of you and Pippa last night. Please, will you share my bed tonight and give me everything I want?" What answer was there to that other than to agree? And agree I did, most decisively. She had no doubt as to my answer when my lust took over and there and then I began to almost tear her clothing from her. And her response was to reciprocate by stripping me. I do remember waking up in her bed some time during the night, but how we got there was a mystery, for we immediately fell into a sixty-nine position as I lapped eagerly at her flowing juices and she engulfed me in such a way that she started to hurt, yet I bore the pain as I thrust my tongue into her delightful pussy until with a sudden flush she wet me completely as her juices flowed. Next second we had twisted around and I was pounding away into her for all I was worth, and she loved it. As I said, though, I had no recollection of getting into bed, and it was next morning when we both awoke, side by side, to find that she was late for work, as we had both overslept. We skipped breakfast and I rushed her to work in my car, arriving only a few minutes later than she could have done by bus. I was not in the same hurry, as my own exhibition duties only started at 11.00am. That evening, the last night of the exhibition -- we would dismantle it next morning -- I arrived home at roughly the same time as Nerys. Again our greeting, once inside, was a little more than conventional, as we kissed and my hands inevitably started to maul her breasts, where they met no resistance. But then I asked her if I could take her out for a meal. I was on expenses, and so the cost would burn no holes in my pockets. She readily agreed, and asked if she could choose the venue. "After all," she explained, "I know the area and where the best food is." I told her that the choice was all hers, whereupon she mischievously told me to stay out of her room whilst she dressed for the occasion. "Something for you to look forward to later on," she mysteriously said. When she finally called out that she was ready I told her that I would wait in the car, and she came out wearing a light coat over her dress. She then directed me to a restaurant which lay a little off the beaten track, tucked down a narrow country lane. There were already three or four cars there, though, and on going inside she gave her name, having evidently booked a table whilst supposedly getting ready. We were directed to a small table for two, and I noticed how discreetly the tables were placed, as the place seemed to be a converted old barn, re-built with small nooks and crannies around its walls so that every table was almost out of sight of every other table. As we went to sit down a waiter courteously helped her remove her coat, and I was rewarded by the sight of Nerys in a sensuous strapless dress which reached well below her knees. No miniskirts for Nerys, I thought to myself in amusement. However, the dress seemed to make her seem even more attractive. She saw me looking at her admiringly with some amusement, and asked if I liked the dress. I told her that she looked beautiful in it, and she told me that it had been a present from her ex, and that she only wore it on special occasions. As we sat down and began to look through the menu I asked her why she felt that this was a special occasion, to which she replied, flatteringly, that it was not every day that a handsome man wined and dined her. She then looked straight at me as she said, "But there is also something special about the way I am dressed tonight - all I have on underneath is a pair of hold-up stockings!" I looked at her with eyes that must have seemed undressing her there and then, and she laughed as she went on to say that she would prove it when we got back into the car. This was the mood of the meal, which we both enjoyed, as she told me about her past -- about her ex-husband, about past boyfriends prior to her marriage, and so on. I think I told her about some of my experiences, too. Afterwards, as we crossed to the car in the car park, she turned and kissed me as she thanked me for such a wonderful meal and evening, adding that she would like to prolong it by showing me some of the local beauty spots nearby. She directed me to a narrow lane which climbed uphill for a short way, and then I stopped the car as she got out to show me the town lights below us, laid out as if in a pattern. It was quite a sight, but nothing compared to the sight I had when I turned to face her and saw that she had stripped off her dress and was now wearing no more than her black hold-up stockings and shoes! "I've always wanted to do this," she told me. "To stand naked in the moonlight in full view of anyone who might be around." Then she added. "And there is just one thing which will make my evening complete." "Which is?" I asked her as I drank in the wonderful view in front of me, and I did not mean the town lights. "To make love in the open air under the stars," she said, looking at me in a way I could not resist. And that is precisely what happened. Neither of us noticed he hardness of the ground, although the grass tickled us both in turn. Afterwards she slipped her dress on again to drive home, where there was no thought of anything but getting into bed together. I, Skip (Autobiography) Ch. 03 Next morning we did not oversleep, but I still drove her to work where we had one last kiss and fumble before I left her to go and pack up my display. I did not see her again, as next time Patricia and I went to see Pippa Nerys had left the flat and returned to Wales, as Pippa had now sold up and had moved in with Ben. I have deliberately told the entire story here instead of just alluding to it as I have with other episodes, but that was one occasion which I have never retold in the form of a story on Literotica.