4 comments/ 20515 views/ 1 favorites The Sorority Sisters: Rebecca No. 01a By: Sassy Susan The Sorority Sisters – Rebecca, No. 1 A psychological threesome with Brandon and Melissa Introduction: This is Becka's account of an erotic, almost non-physical affair she had with a married couple whom she met at a Kentucky Derby party earlier this year. Brandon and his wife Melissa pursued her, both together and separately, for some time after. A few pieces of information will make the story more understandable. Kate is Becka's lover. They live apart, which works well for them. Becka is Rebecca Browning, a writer of erotica who works in a library. Her stories can be found under that name on Literotica. Most of what she has written is biographical (It's My Life) describing parts of her sex life while living with her former husband, Mike, who is referenced briefly here. The story referred to in Part 3 below is chapter 8 in her series. Tony and Carmella are her hosts, who featured in this highly erotic BDSM event. Becka is a submissive lady who put up with her husband's atrocious behavior and demands for much too long. But she admits that she got off on the humiliation and abuse Mike forced upon her. I recommend her to you, for her self-effacing humor and blunt story telling make these accounts of his domination and her humiliating submission both funny and erotic, if sometimes sad. I hope you enjoy Rebecca, both here in her reports to me, and when you visit her site. Susan James * * * * * Part One – The Party and Interview Dear Susan, Where to start? This will take forever. Last Saturday I went to a Kentucky Derby party at the house of one of Kate's corporate slugs. I don't play in this crowd, because the house has to be worth a million bucks. Pool in the back, one of these outdoor cooking grills that is as long as a banquet table, and a little hut that served as a bar. Right away Kate is pissed when I drive over to her place, so she can drive us as a couple to the party house. It's my blouse. One of two rather provocative numbers I bought in hopes of recapturing my youth. I found it in one of those mall chain stores that are dark and have shitty rap music thumping away in them. This is a sleeveless white thing with a little lace on it. Pretty sheer. Too sheer to wear a bra under it, or so I think. Okay, it was a sunny day and it was more than pretty sheer. Kate rides my ass all the way to this place about my choice of clothing. She's showing plenty of her cannonballs with the scoop-neck thing she's wearing but apparently I must be a puritan. I admit the blouse is probably something that would be more along the line of something girls your age would wear, and maybe I looked silly, but fuck it. Fugg it. If nobody wanted to look they didn't have to. Great start to the day, huh? Get to the thing at this rich prick's house, and they have a plasma TV out on the deck under cover, but the race isn't for a couple of hours. I say hello to a couple of the people I know from past events and head to the hut. Only about seventy degrees so nobody is swimming, except for the asshole who fell in. I'm a little chilly, and the blouse has points that all can see. Fugg it. Kate comes over and intros me to the host, who drops his sunglasses down to look at my nipples as he shakes my hand. He didn't complain about my blouse, so I make a face to Kate when he isn't looking. Another couple comes over and the host intros them to me and Kate. Host flees after a while and leaves this couple with us. The couple are around 30-ish. She is a kinda wall-flowery and plain looking woman who doesn't make eye contact and just nods and sips her mint julep through a swizzle stick. Her hubby is a giant. Seems like seven foot tall (but find out later he's 6'5"). A real Mutt and Jeff couple, but he's kinda cute. It turns out that Brandon (the guy) is a writer. I recognize the name from the local paper. He's not Bob Woodward or anything but I had heard of him, and had gotten things for him at work on occasion, but I didn't recognize him so maybe he sent somebody to pick up. He writes local governmental stuff, about zoning meetings and city council crap, that sort of thing. Bigmouth Kate, upon hearing that this guy is a writer, announces that her dear friend Becky is a writer too! You fucking cunt! I look for a way to crawl under the hut while Kate babbles on after he asks who I write for. "She writes pornographic stories!" she proclaims! I must have turned purple as this couple look at me, and I wanted to die. Brandon and wife find this fascinating, and Kate is having convulsions as she revels in my discomfort. Kate then leaves, presumably to hit on the host's helpless little daughter, who looks like Laurie from the Partridge Family. I am alone. Brandon, a real writer, begins peppering me with questions about my "writing." I get inside the hut bar and make myself a rum and coke in a small pitcher and stick a straw in it. I fully intend to get very drunk, but Brandon was very nice about it and so I start talking. I won't tell him where I write, or the name I use, but I admit that I use my real first name and a famous writer's last name. He tells me that he knows of several such sites and has always wanted to try his hand at it. I tell him that people seem to like my stuff, and so they would go crazy over a real writer. He wants to know where I write but I can't tell him. He asks why and I say that so far I haven't written fiction, but instead have written about real life, and that it would be very embarrassing for me to have people know who I am. At this point I look at his wife, who is still sipping her drink out of the swizzle stick and is still not making eye contact, but instead is staring at my nipples which are tearing through the fabric by now. I ask this girl her name. She glances up for a brief second and ays "Melissa", and then promptly goes back to staring at my titties. I suggest that maybe Brandon could write a story about some of their experiences and she says, "That would be great." I end up talking to these two for most of the afternoon, and almost miss the Derby. We stumble up to the deck and watch with the mob. Brandon can see fine because he's a cute Herman Munster but Melissa and I have to peek through the crowd. Brandon has his arm around his wife and asks me who I want to win. "Steppenwolfer!" I say, and fish out the ticket that I got at the off track betting parlor on the way. He kisses my forehead and wishes me luck, putting his other arm around me. Isn't this cozy? He's got very large and very soft hands, and they feel warm on my arm. I am getting very turned on over this relatively benign behavior. Oh yeah, the race. Steppenwolfer came in third, which made me seem intelligent. My two bucks across the board nets me a cool $1.60 profit. We go back to the hut to celebrate, and the party has split into many small parties. Mine has Melissa and Brandon and the bar, with the occasional intruder making drinks. I slow down my drinking, because I want to remember this in case something happens. We chit chat more, and the conversation keeps coming back to my frigging writing. I am evasive when it comes to giving many details, but that doesn't seem to bother Brandon or Melissa. Brandon goes inside to the bathroom and that leaves us girls. Melissa is still quiet, but has opened her mouth a few times since the race. Still staring at my nipples. Although the woman doesn't excite me particularly, I am a little tipsy, somewhat horny, and still very pissed at Kate, who has her host and his daughter cornered and is probably trying to convince him to let her at the poor girl or something. I look down and discover I have dribbled a little drink on the front of my blouse. As I dab at it I tell Melissa that I didn't realize how revealing it was going to be when I bought it. She tells me she loves the blouse, that I look very attractive in it, and she wishes she had the nerve to wear something like that. I tell her that with my body I should have less nerve than I do. "No, you look very sexy in it," she says, looking down and blushing. I'm going out of my mind at this point, and Brandon returns with a plate of cheese and crackers. They are starting to cook at last on that grill, and the smell of death fills the air. I start to look at this Melissa in a different way. Hey, all it takes is a couple of compliments and everybody looks different. As we wait for real food, Brandon starts interrogating me in earnest. How old am I? Fifty. They both express shock at this, and since I'm buzzed I tell them to cut the shit. No, Brandon says he is serious, and that when they first saw me, Melissa had guessed that I was 40. "You guess people's ages when you look around the place?" I asked him with a laugh. "Do you work at carnivals part time?" This strikes me as being far funnier then than now, but I think that was because of you and your circus going through my mind. "No, it was just that you caught our eye when you arrived," says my man Brandon, who is so frigging tall that the next day my neck was stiff from staring up at him all this time. "Is that Kate really your girlfriend?" "She was when we got here," I tell him. He then asks how serious we are and on and on it goes. He's a good reporter, because I am trying not to tell him too much, but more and more leaks out. Susan, I have been typing forever, and I haven't gotten to the good part yet, which happened this last Saturday night. I just found this whole interplay fascinating between the three of us, and when the party broke up I figured that was the end of it. I spent the rest of the night getting the business from Kate about my odd couple until we made up. I will tell you about the other part tomorrow night. Trust me when I tell you that it is nowhere near as graphic as your other chums, so don't get your hopes up. * Part two – The first phone call Hi Susan, Conked out last night, but I wanted to tell you about what happened last Saturday night as a follow-up to the party play. I went out to garden Saturday after chatting with you, and in between raindrops got some weeding done. I was a mess, soggy and sweaty, so I was going to take a shower when the phone rings. Can't be Kate because she won't be calling until much later, after her conference is over. I pick up the phone. It's Brandon. WTF? I guess he remembered my last name and looked me up. Hello Brandon. What's up? He wanted to tell me how much they had enjoyed talking to me last week. Melissa and Brandon found Becky to be a fascinating conversationalist and an interesting person. I tell Brandon that I was just heading into the shower. He asks if I had plans for the evening, and I tell him no, because Kate is in Canada and won't be home until tomorrow morning. Would I like to get together later? Uh, no. I don't think that's a good idea. Too bad says he, because he would like to talk. Would I mind if he called me back after I took a shower. Uh okay. He tells me he'll call back later. I take a shower. A long warm one, until the hot water is gone. I'm lingering in certain places. I am nervous and horny. I swear that a thought went through my mind... What would Susan do? Out of the shower and I linger around in a robe. No sense getting dressed, because I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE! This guy wants to screw around on his wife, and he was a cute giant, but it is not going to happen. He gives me a little over an hour, and just when I think that maybe he said to hell with it, or his wife got home, the phone rings. I dread the phone ringing, but I am excited. Brandon. He wants to know how the shower was. I tell him it was great, leaving out the details. He reaffirms that I am fascinating, and he was especially interested about my writing. He wants to read some of it, and would like to know where to find it. I can't do it. I tell him I want to keep that part of me separate from my real life, and besides, it isn't like this is fiction. This is the real me, or at least was the real me. Since we have met, and may meet again, it would be too embarrassing. Besides, it's not like it's real writing, like he does. I have no real literary skills. That's what's interesting about it, he tells me. He thinks that real life people in real life situations are far more sensual than anything Hollywood conjures up, and he and Melissa thought it was very exciting when we talked about it. "Your wife didn't seem all that talkative when we were together," I mention, omitting the part about her staring at my titties, but even thinking about it has made my nipples blossom once again. Melissa is funny, he tells me. She's very shy and quiet around people she doesn't know, but she's a whole 'nother person once you get to know her. You would not recognize her BEHIND CLOSED DOORS (emphasis mine). "Oh, really?" I ask. "Is she away for the weekend?" Oh no, Brandon says. She's right here, and would I like to talk to her? I pass on that for now, and Brandon goes back to the writing. He says he Googled my name but couldn't find anything interesting. Whew. He has an idea. Why don't I read him something I've written? As a matter of fact, he says, that would be even more exciting than reading it off a computer screen. Hearing from the author herself! I'm not going to read any of my smut to a guy on the phone, that much I am sure of. Pick out something that you're most proud of and read it to me, he asks. He will not critique it. He finds erotic literature fascinating, and mentions writers he enjoys. He throws out a bunch of names, but only Henry Miller rings a bell. No, I can't read a story to him. Ten minutes later I am out in the kitchen, making a giant Lemka. [Lemonade and vodka, Ed.] Brandon is on the phone, which is sitting in front of my computer. I am about to read Becky's Scene From an Italian Restaurant to Brandon. My knees are shaking, and the shower is a distant memory, because sweat is rolling down my sides in sheets. He's waiting for me, as I told him I needed to get a drink first. He said he's going to get more comfortable too. Good God. I get back to the computer and pick up the phone like it was radioactive. Susan, I have to go to work. I will continue later. Bye love, Becky [I won't report here how I reacted to this sudden interruption at such a crucial point in the story. I won't relate the language I used or the names I screamed at this rotten, teasing, slutty, selfish bitch for leaving me in the lurch like this. No, I won't behave in such childish rage. No, I won't. I won't. See? I have self control. I do... Sure. Ed.] * Part Three – The phone call (continued) Susan, as you wished/demanded... here is the end of my phone call with Brandon and Melissa. I'm sorry I left you hanging like that. [Sure.] I come back from the kitchen, and my hands are shaking even more than usual. The ice cubes in my drink sound like a wind chime as I sit down in front of the computer. "It's My Life, Chapter 8" is staring right at me and the phone is on the mouse pad. I hate phones. Loathe phones. I don't have a cell phone and am determined to be the last person on earth without one, and that might occur by the end of the year. I pick up the phone and say hello. My voice sounds tinny in a weird way, but Brandon is there and welcomes me back. My heart is beyond racing as I try to start reading this smut. I clear my throat a couple of times, and Brandon apparently senses my discomfort. He tells me about an article he wrote early in his career about possible corruption with the city's parking meters. After he read it to the editor, the guy ripped practically every line to shreds, criticizing something in every paragraph. He tells me that after that, he became very compassionate towards the efforts of others, and has no intention on doing that to me. Besides, this isn't work, he reminds me. This is fun. Okay, I feel a little better and start reading. The first part is easy, because it's clean. I hear him chuckle early on, and this gives me confidence. I get through several paragraphs before my throat gets dry and I need a drink. Brandon takes the time to dig at some background information, my age and what my marriage was like at that point. I tell him the truth, and this seems to please him. Had I been with other girls before this night? Oh yes indeed. I continue reading. Tony and Carmella are feeling me up under the table and I can hear odd noises on the phone, and my voice seems to be echoing in my ear. I stop for another sip and ask Brandon if he can hear me okay, because my voice sounds funny. His does now too. Oh my gawd! He tells me that he put me on the speaker phone and hopes I didn't mind. "Oh, need the hands free?" I say, getting bold and wiseass. No, he says his hands are on the arms of his chair. Actually, he says they are gripping the arms of the chair. Brandon jokes that he hasn't touched himself once yet. He said it might sound funny at my end because he put it on the speaker phone. Brandon apologizes and says he should have told me that. He said he wanted to share it with Melissa but he wasn't sure how I would react to that. I feel like there's an ice cube being rolled up and down my spine. My skin is covered with goose bumps. I guess that's how I would react to that. I say hello to Melissa, and after a second I hear her faintly return my greeting, and then she says she likes the story so far. This is very stupid. I am still shaking but my pussy is practically dripping. I continue. Tony is playing with my arm in the restaurant. I am quivering in my chair while I read. My throat keeps getting dry. I'm embarrassed to read the part when Tony starts playing with the hair under my arm and I stop to take another drink. Brandon, in a very strained voice, tells me that he was born too late. Tells me how sexy it is to see a woman with hairy armpits and has always wanted Melissa to let hers go, and is sorry it's out of favor these days. I tell him that I can understand why Melissa was reluctant, because it's a whole different world today, and I doubt that even Mike could get me to do that now. "You have such beautiful arms," Brandon says to me. He tells me that at the party I was talking with them over by the drink hut and I was hanging on the brace of the awning above me with my hands (Oh brother - how bombed was I?). He thought I had such incredibly beautiful arms, and they are so shapely and smooth, and Melissa thought so too. Hey, the arms are pretty good, and I am getting so hot I have a rain forest between my legs. He tells me about a Ben Stiller movie where a character talks about what beautiful arms and armpits this woman had, and he thought it was funny that the guy was saying things that he had always felt were true, and he had always thought that a woman's arms were one of the sexiest parts of her body. I confess to not seeing that movie but I agreed with him and tell him that I am incredibly aroused by any affection around the shoulders. "I'll bet you are," says he, and he says that he would love to see that, and could think of a number of things that I might have loved to have had him do. I tell Brandon to stop it, while not wanting him to stop a bit, and then he says that my arms must be something to have distracted him from looking at my breasts. He tells me that he didn't know if I knew how revealing that blouse was, but it hid very little. I told him that I really hadn't thought that it was as bad as it was, especially in the daylight, and would never have intentionally wanted to advertise my shortcomings so blatantly. He tells me that they were very pleased with the view, and that they would love to have seen even more. He finds small breasts incredibly arousing. As a matter of fact, they both do. "Where was I?" I say, and I go back to the story. I start again at a part I already had read, but who gives a shit. I get to the part where I tell Mike what I want Tony and Carmella to do to me. Fuck me. Anything they want to do. The Sorority Sisters: Rebecca No. 01a That's the end of that page, at least on my screen, and as I read that line and am going to the next page, I hear a loud snort, followed by some other weird noises. I keep reading along on page two, trying not to drop the phone as I listen to what in my mind sounds like a guy cumming. I am drenched with sweat and am almost out of liquids. As I get to the part where we are going upstairs I say that I have to go get a refill and pee. When I return, I finish the story. Brandon tells me that they loved the story. I say oh shucks, and he tells me that I have no idea how good that was, especially with me reading it. I say oh shucks again. "Hi Becky," Melissa says. "That was such an incredible story. You have no idea how erotic that was for us." Really? "It was amazing to hear something like that written by a woman, especially someone that I had met," Melissa says. "It made me wish I was there, either as you or as Carmella." Giggle. Gee. "I know Brandon invited you over to visit us, and I wanted to tell you that I would love it if you did. I think you're such an interesting woman, and that I think I could learn a lot from you," she adds. Um, I can't. "At least not at this point," I throw in. I had been on the phone for an hour and a half with them, and I'm tired. My throat is sore. We sign off. Besides, I have an uncontrollable urge to go lie down and.... think about what happened. See. Nothing Susantastic. * Part Four – Brandon's call about his story I had begged off from visiting Kate and since her sister was visiting that was just as well. I don't think she cares for me, and oddly enough I feel that she thinks I've led her big sister into this sordid lifestyle. Ha! Fugg her. Anyway... Brandon called last night, and was surprised to find me home. I told him I wasn't feeling that well, and it's too bad because this might have been better than it was. Brandon spent some time during the week fishing around on the internet, looking for erotic literature sites. When he googled, literotica came up. Oh boy. I thought that he was going to tell me that he found my stuff, but instead he said that he was looking into writing some things and was searching for someplace to put it. He said that he now understood my desire to keep anonymous, since he would find it difficult to be known as a porn writer in his business. Good. Then he says that since I was so good at this, and would know best what worked in this genre (good grief!), would I mind listening to what he had written and offer suggestions. I asked him if he had tried it out on Melissa, and he said he had. He also said that she enjoyed mine better (you know, I'm really starting to like this girl!) but he thought she might have been busting his balls. He said that he was alone and wanted to read it without being bothered. "Okay," I said, and since I was still feeling frisky from my titty show earlier in the day, I thought this might cheer me up. I was right. I obviously don't remember the entire story and didn't record it, but I do remember the main points. I will tell you the end result now, which found me down on my knees on the bedroom rug, shaking and quaking from an unbelievably strong and messy orgasm. Here's the story in Cliff notes form Brandon and Melissa are a couple in their early 30's. Recently they have begun getting involved in wife swapping. They got invited to this party that a friend's boss was going to. The last thing they were thinking about was sex, but when they got to the party they happened to notice a woman who was firing down drinks. She was a sharp looking woman who looked about forty, with short reddish black hair. (That was me.) They have somebody introduce them to me. They find me/her fascinating, and are excited by the fact that they can see through her blouse, and she has cute breasts. They talk to her all night, and about her to each other when she is distracted. Melissa says that she would love to see her (me) tied up just like that, as my hands hang onto the edge of the awning, and they discuss how they would like to each grab a breast and ravage them. They are excited that I am so open about writing porn, and are both saddened and excited by learning of my relationship with Kate, who they are aroused by and afraid of (tee-hee). They want me to come home with them, and plot ways to get me there. When they get home they tear each other's clothes off and fuck like animals. Brandon mentions as an aside that he wondered if it is necessary for the stories that the males have big cocks, since both Tony and my husband were well hung, and whether I have such a preference. I tell him that I don't know whether it's necessary for the story, but for myself, I don't much care. Tony was huge and if he wasn't the best I ever had he was damn close, and Mike was just about the same size, and in retrospect he was horrible in bed. Brandon says that's good, because he's pretty average. He says women sometimes have expected a lot because he's so tall, but he's only got about six inches, although he admits with a chuckle that it's curved and the head of his cock is unusually large. I tell him that he certainly sounds okay to me, and I try to keep the mouthpiece away from me, because I am getting very busy down below after removing an obstacle. (Sorry, but this is the story.) Melissa has tattoos. Do I find them attractive? It depends. Melissa also likes some weird things, and should he mention them in the story? I don't know, I say. Like what? She likes him to put his big toe in her cunt and get her off that way. Do I think that should go in the story? Sure, I grunt. She also likes to do something else, but hesitates to tell me about it because it's really freaky. Go ahead, I mutter. Well, she likes to do it to him, but he really found it sexy when he saw her do it to another woman. He says he really got turned on when she went down on the other woman and lifted her up by the hips, and then let her tongue slide down lower until she was licking the woman's asshole. He asked me what I thought about that, but the phone was bouncing around on the bed and I was squirming around on the floor by then. After I got control of myself and picked up the phone again, Brandon was amusingly saying, "Hello...hello...hello." I told him I dropped the phone and he chuckled, assuming he knew what happened. He said he hadn't heard my answer about Melissa licking assholes. Did I find that disgusting? "No," I squeaked. He said that he would work on the story some more, using the comments I made, and wanted to know if he could call me back when it was done. "Yes, you can," I said. "Maybe you could have Melissa read it next time." So I guess he will. * Part Five -- Melissa's lunch invitation. I happened to be going through the inbox last evening and the phone rang. I ran to it and stared at it while the machine picked up. Leave a message. "Hi Becky, this is Melissa again. From the other night... I pick up. Briefly...I tell her that I would have called her back but didn't have her number. She had assumed Brandon gave it to me, and I gather that she thinks there has been more contact between us than there has been. She is still shy, and combined with me there are many pregnant pauses before we get going. They are not really swingers, she tells me. They had just started recently experimenting. They swapped with another couple, but in different rooms. It went okay but Melissa was not that turned on. Then they did it with another couple in the same room. Not so good, at least in the beginning. The other guy is hung like a horse and this bothers Brandon, especially when Melissa starts howling with delight. Not because of the guy's dick, but because she likes to make noise. He thinks it's because of the guy. Melissa says that she makes the same noises with Brandon, and thought nothing of it. That second time was saved when Melissa started messing around with the guy's wife. The wife said she wasn't interested in the beginning, but Melissa says she can be persistent. Besides, Melissa is Bi. Very Bi, and she was much more interested in the wife anyway. After Brandon sees this, he thinks it would be a great idea if they did threesomes from then on. That's fine with Melissa, who tells me again that's she's very Bi. She asks about Kate, who she thought was very erotic looking in a scary way. Said that once she found out Kate and I were a pair, she keeps having visions of Kate and me together, and fears for my safety, in an erotic way. Sheez! Kate's not scary looking. She says Brandon was much more interested in me. In fact I have been the topic of many late night discussions. Melissa thought it was amazing the way I wore that blouse at the party with such confidence. I tell her I was not aware at how revealing it was until it was too late, and that I got a buzz on immediately thereafter. Melissa wishes that she had the confidence to wear clothes that revealing, but then again she doesn't have the body I do. Please. No, and she couldn't believe I was 50. Really. I'm so sultry and sensual, and my body is so lithe and toned, and she can't get over the vision of my breasts in that blouse and Melissa knows of such things because she's very Bi (did she not mention that already?), and she wishes that we could get together and that could mean either with her and Brandon, or just her. She works pretty close to the library that I work in, as a matter of fact, and would like to meet for lunch someday. I am meeting her for lunch Thursday. No... I only get a half hour. Mostly curious, because I want to get a look at her and can only hope she will recognize me, because otherwise it'll never happen. * Part Six – Lunch with Melissa Okay.... I met Melissa outside my building. She recognized me, and I kinda recognized her... a little. Melissa looks a little like early Linda Ronstadt. Cute. A little bit chubby maybe. A couple of inches shorter than me. Tattoo of a rose on her left ankle. I got a kiss for a greeting (cheek) and let her pick where to go for lunch. We took a hike up the hill to a bar/restaurant I used to haunt when I first started working down here. Little expensive but this was a special occasion. We sat in a booth and Melissa took off her blazer, revealing a very pretty silk blouse that matched my lilacs, which are fading fast. Melissa had something I also wanted, which is a little diamond heart necklace. I noticed it because the blouse was a little open in front, and this heart was nestled in between a rather expansive cleavage. Some freckles too. She is not dressed frumpy today. She has dressed to impress and has succeeded. I feel like I am in command, for some reason. Maybe it's because I know nothing is going to happen, but I stare rather brazenly at her tits. Finally, I mention that she has something I always dreamed of getting. She asks what? "Besides breasts I mean, I always wanted to get a diamond heart necklace." Melissa giggles, blushes, and bites her lower lip. She is not a classic beauty, but is cute, especially like this. In my mind I watch her lifting her blouse off, and reaching behind herself and unhooking that bra, releasing those soft, full breasts into my waiting hands. I realize Melissa has been talking while I've been taking mental liberties. We order lunch and we get glasses of wine. Not a good idea, but then again, maybe this whole thing isn't either. We chit chat idly until the wine comes, which means I can start probing. "What was going on when I was reading my story to Brandon?" I ask. Melissa says that she was sucking Brandon's cock. Melissa then says that she got herself off during the rest of the story after he came. She loved the part about being tied to the bed. She likes being tied down, tied up, and whatever else. Reminds her of her youth. Youth? Melissa then tells me the story of her teenage years. I found it hard to believe but I suppose that stuff like this is not gender exclusive. Forgive my perverted self but hearing this story turned my cunt into another rain forest. Turns out Melissa received an early sexual education. She says that she developed very early, and this got the attention of a neighbor, who also happened to be the teacher at her Sunday School class. The teacher was aware of the effects a well developed young lady had on the immature minds of testosterone filled boys, and wanted to make sure Melissa was prepared for this. This teacher was a woman, and I kinda remind Melissa of her in a way, although I am prettier (sic). Anyway, this teacher, who had known Melissa for years, noticed that although Melissa had just become a teenager, she had the body of a woman. The woman takes Melissa under her wing and has special counseling sessions with her at her home. Spiritual upbringing, the woman tells Melissa's folks, who are very happy that Melissa spends a couple of nights with this woman every week. A lot better than having her running around the streets unsupervised. What did this education consist of? My chin was on the table halfway through her story. Even YOU might have been shocked. I express outrage, mildly, that she was taken advantage of like that. Melissa sees it differently. She LOVED it. All three years that it went on. So Melissa went on and grew up, being very bisexual. She married Brandon because she thought she should. She loves him but Brandon is a little insecure. He has a negative body image because his dick isn't very big, especially in proportion with his body, and it curves to the left (the cock-not the body). Melissa says that makes it tough to give good head. I agree. An upward curve is no problem, but the sideways bend makes taking it deep a challenge. They aren't all that "swinger", and have only been with two other couples. She doesn't think Brandon can handle being a second guy in threesomes, and when the opportunity arose, Melissa jumped all over the woman of the last couple they were with. Melissa hadn't let on that she was "very bi" to Brandon before that night, and had only mentioned that she had been with other girls before, but after Brandon saw her ravage that other woman that kinda gave it away. Brandon was not revolted by seeing that. Quite the contrary. Brandon was not threatened by the second woman. He was aroused. He wants to see more. When they saw me and met me they liked me. Now they want me. Melissa knows that she isn't as striking a woman as Kate is, but she says that she is very enthusiastic. Matter of fact, there is nothing she won't do. She would even love to spend some time with Kate and me. I thought there was a rat under the table around that point, but it was Melissa, who had taken her shoe off and was rubbing my calf with her toe. She enjoys the way I jumped at that, and hoped I didn't mind. She says that I have beautiful legs. What do I think about the possibilities? That was Melissa's question. I tell her that I'm in a relationship that I'm very happy with. At that point it was probably stupid of me to have taken off my shoe and to start playing footsie with Melissa. Hey, it was dark in there, and I was rather aroused. Melissa jumps upon feeling that. Just having fun with you, I tell her. She turns all rosy cheeked as she asks me if I HAVE to go back to work. Yes, I do. Because Melissa suggests we could call our work and say we got sick at lunch. Brandon doesn't get home until after six and we could go to her house. I tell Melissa that it's a tempting offer, but I really couldn't cheat on Kate. Melissa says she understands, but would like to be friends and maybe go out to have lunch again. Or something. I like this girl. A lot. I tell her that we could do lunch again sometime. The hour is long gone and we pay the check and walk back down the hill to my building. Melissa asks if I had fun. I did and tell her so. Melissa said that she had played out this day in her mind, and had hoped that it would end by me taking her to her house, ripping her clothes off, tying her to the bedposts with these bungee cords she has in the night table drawer, and doing whatever I wanted to her. Two glasses of wine do not usually make me dizzy, but my head is spinning. What happened to me being in control of this? I laugh and tell her that she's incredibly attractive to me, and if I wasn't so happy with Kate we would have been half way to her house by now. This makes her very happy. Still, she asks, cheating happens sometimes, doesn't it? "Like with that guy at the hotel parking lot? The one you gave head to, twice?" I'm glad I didn't faint at that point. Melissa is biting her lower lip and blushing. "Please don't tell Brandon I told you, but he found your stories on that website and we read them. All of them. I loved that story about you in the car." Melissa even figures out the motel it took place in. Apparently there is a search function on Literotica, and I guess I told him at some point that I used my real first name, so it must have been easy from there. I was reading the story to them that they had read already. It was much better when I read it, Melissa says. Somehow, I made it back upstairs to work, but I was shaky. Still am. I don't plan on meeting with them, although there is a part of me that wants to, I'll admit. I just can't mix the 'writing' Becky with the real-life Becky. Can't and won't. I don't know if I'll have any more lunches either, knowing that she knows all about me. That's a scary feeling. It's like somebody read your diary. Those stories are my secrets. Stuff I never told anybody, nor would tell anybody. Well, yes, I have posted them for anyone to read, but they don't know me. I mean they don't know me as the person they are talking to across the table. Okay! There it is sweetie. Yet another thing that I wouldn't have done a year ago, but for you. No great shakes, but it was interesting for me. Rebecca _______________________ Post Notes: I have tried repeatedly to get Becka to accept Melissa's invitation to visit and take her sexually. Melissa seems to crave being bound and abused by another woman and she has clearly picked Becka to be her lover/tormentor. Although I have offered to coach this submissive friend on how to be dominant for a day, and laid out several specific scenarios – including what tools to bring to the party – she has decided to stay true to her love, Kate. I hope someday Kate finds out what her partner passed up, with Brandon, with Melissa, and with them as a team. I guess I am not a very effective Domme. Thank you Rebecca for being the woman you are. I love you. Susan