("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: silhou.txt (FF, 1st-lez-expr, inc) Authors name: October Memories (address withheld) Story title : Silhouettes in the Dark -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Silhouettes in the Dark by October Memories (address withheld) *** A married woman discovers her "bi" side. (FF, 1st-lez- expr, inc) *** After fifteen years of being married to the same man I was bored. Bored to tears. It isn’t that Charles isn’t a good husband. As a matter of fact, he is a wonderful husband, as well as a good Father to our seventeen- year-old daughter Nancy. He has been employed at Blue Cross/Blue Shield for all of these years as a manager in the claims department and has provided Nancy and I with a stable and caring home. By the way, my name is Carolyn. Carolyn Hawthorn. It isn’t even as though our sex lives were bad, even though sex too has become somewhat boring of late. Lately it has taken me an effort to attain an orgasm when we have sex, mostly because there is never anything new and exciting to stimulate me. I’m afraid Charles is too comfortable in the routine that has developed between us through the years. The "missionary position" seems to satisfy him. On rare occasions I do "go down" on him, but he refuses to ejaculate in my mouth even though I have assured him that it would be all right to do so. He says he thinks it a bit gross. At the comparatively young age of thirty-seven, Charles is already beginning to bald, his hair very thin in the front so that he has no "widows peak" at all. He has to wear glasses and he is developing a noticeable paunch in his belly. But even with all that, I do love him…for his gentleness and for his caring. However, I must admit that in my fantasies I have imagined being with another man. Lying in bed at night after Charles has rolled off of me and fallen quickly asleep, I lay there in the dark and masturbate myself to an orgasm as I create my fantasy lovers in my mind. But even If I seriously wanted to have a brief affair with another man, I had always thought it would be quite difficult to accomplish. There is a good reason for my thinking that way. We live in a VERY small town in western Indiana with a population of under nineteen hundred people, and most of them are farmers or simply "down home" country folk, if you will. I had always figured the "picken’s" would be extremely thin even if I wanted to have an extra marital affair. But I had forgotten one thing I guess. The people who live in our town are for the most part the same sort of people who live in the big cities like Chicago or Indianapolis. They live, love and have sex just like the other folks do. It’s just that it’s necessary to hide things better when the town is so small that your neighbor knows when you so much as let a fart. * I didn’t learn about the seamier side of our town until one Saturday evening when Charles and I went to the Moose Lodge for dinner. They always have a band on Saturday evenings so we enjoy listening to the music. More times than not the band is small and usually off key, but we enjoy it anyway. The tables at the Moose are the long type that sit maybe twelve or so persons, so there is always someone sitting next to you. But since everyone has at least a nodding acquaintance with everyone else at the Moose, it isn’t all that bad. As it happened on that particular Saturday night, I found myself seated next to Winnifred Martin. Winnie, as she is called, is the music teacher at our local high school. In her early thirties, she is a tiny little thing, no more that five feet tall and slender as a reed. She has ash blonde hair and pale blue eyes that people have referred to as "washed out" when commenting on her eyes. Unmarried, she of course is considered already to be an "old maid school teacher". I knew that Nancy is one of her students so I at some point asked her casually how my daughter was doing in school. She was absolutely gushing as she began to sing the praises of how well Nancy was doing and what a lovely girl she was. Then she commented how cute it was to see all the boys buzzing around my daughter like "bees around a pot of honey". Her comment took me by surprise a little. Although Nancy and I are very close, I had never thought about her as being sexually attractive to boys. But of course she has to be. She is a beautiful girl and possesses a body that had fully matured. Winnie’s remark about the boys hanging around like "bees around a pot of honey" struck me as being full of sexual connotation. I was surprised to feel an unfamiliar flutter deep in the pit of my stomach as I thought about my daughter, and I was suddenly aware of something else. When Winnie had said what she had said, there had been just the slightest trace of jealousy in her tone. But jealous of whom? I asked myself. Nancy? Or the boys? Could it be that Winnie was unmarried because she was a lesbian? After making certain that no one close was paying any attention to us, I leaned towards Winnie and said that I was glad that Nancy was doing so well in school, but that I worried about her and the boys and all. I laughed softly and said that I couldn’t blame the boys though, that my daughter had a beautiful body and I only wished that I looked as good as she does. Winnie touched my wrist and giggled. "Oh stop it…. you have a beautiful body and you know it Carolyn." As I sat there thinking about things, I began to get ever more curious. At that point I did something that I would never have considered myself capable of doing. Reaching forward to pick up my glass of wine from the table, I managed to press the side of my leg against Winnie’s, accidentally on purpose as it were. There should be no doubt in her mind but that I was doing it deliberately. I almost held my breath as I waited to see what her reaction would be, then I felt her hand slide under the table to rest on my knee. (the lodge covers the tables with white cloths that are much too wide for the narrow tables so that they drape down all the way to one’s lap) I could feel her fingers trembling slightly as if she were waiting for some sort of signal from me, some sort of encouragement to continue. I turned my head to look toward the bandstand as if to pay attention to the music, at the same time I spread my knees wide apart in open invitation. Her reaction was immediate. A shiver raced up and down the length of my spine as her hand moved up my leg until her fingertips lightly brushed against my crotch. I cursed myself silently for having worn both pantyhose as well as panties. She began lightly rubbing me, at the same time having a quiet conversation with Margaret Hastings who was seated directly across the table from us. It was hard for me to believe that I was actually letting Winnie "feel me up" right there at the table with my husband seated beside me. But I could feel myself growing wet ,my nipples blossoming almost painfully so as they pressed against the inside of my bra. (my nipples have always been ultra sensitive, so much so that it was impossible for me to breast feed my daughter when she was a baby) I have heard of other women with the same problem. Finally Winnie withdrew her hand from under my skirt and raised them to the top of the table again. She waited a while until no one was noticing, then spoke softly to me again, saying that it was too bad that we couldn’t carry things a bit further. In sudden inspiration, I raised my voice so others could hear. "Winnie? I have a splitting headache and Charles is having such a good time, I wonder if I might impose on you to drive me home?" Hearing me, Charles turned and draped his arm across my shoulders. "It’s okay, honey, we can go now! I’ll take you home." There was genuine concern in his voice. "No, no," Winnie said quickly. "I was ready to go anyway, Charles. I have to get up early tomorrow! I’ll take your wife home and see that she gets in all right." "Yes Charles," I said. "It’s just a little headache. You stay and enjoy yourself and I’ll see you when you get home! I insist on it!" Before he could make any further objections, I stood and leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "I’ll see you at home." A few people at the table who had heard made small sounds of commiseration as Winnie and I quickly left the table and moved to the door. The parking lot was deserted as we made our way to Winnie’s ancient Buick…so ancient it still had a bench seat in the front. Neither of us said anything as she started the car and drove expertly out of the parking lot. Then as we pulled out onto the road, she turned her head to look at me. "That was quick thinking," she said. "The headache I mean!" "Yes," I said, suddenly nervous and embarrassed. I took a deep breath. "Winnie? I’ve never…I mean I haven’t been with another woman before." "I know," she said softly. "Just relax, okay? Why don’t you slide over here beside me and we’ll make out like teenagers do." I had to laugh at that, but even so I slid over on the seat closer to her. "Teenagers? It’s been a long time since I was a teenager, Winnie!" "I know…but isn’t your daughter home?" "Yes," I said. I hadn’t thought of that. We couldn’t very well do anything at my house, and Winnie hadn’t said anything about going to her place. I didn’t even know where she lived. "So I guess we’ll be teenagers," I said lightly. "Okay girl," she grinned at me, "why don’t you take off those damned pantyhose while I find us a place to park for a while?" Feeling myself blushing, I lifted my rump up off the seat and pulled the hem of my skirt up to my waist. In that awkward position, I managed to skim my pantyhose and panties down below my knees. Sitting down again with my skirt still hiked up, I pulled my feet out of my underwear and stuffed panties and hose into my purse. Pulling suddenly into a darkened driveway, Winnie pulled up beside a huge white house and turned off the ignition and the lights. I looked around nervously. "Don’t worry," Winnie said quickly. ‘This is old man Carson’s place. He’s gone off to visit his brother in Indianapolis. There’s no one else here. We’d have a lot more room in the back seat though," she added softly. My legs felt numb as I climbed out of the front and slid onto the back seat of the car. I didn’t resist as Winnie pulled me into her arms and kissed me, parting my lips as her tongue speared into my mouth. As I sucked at her tongue, I felt her hand move into the hollow of my crotch and her fingers lightly touched the lips of my pussy. Then she began probing deep inside me with first one and then two fingers. Finally her lips slid from my mouth to nibble lightly at my ear. "I want to eat your cunt," she murmured huskily into my ear. "Do you want me to lick your pussy for you?" "Yes," I moaned, so sexually aroused that I was dizzy. She pushed me back against the door of the car and helped me lift my feet onto the seat, my legs straddling her. I heard a little whimper escape her lips as she bent down and pressed her face into the hollow of my crotch, then her tongue touched me. I clutched the back of her head and pulled her face even tighter against my cunt and I heard myself mewing like a kitten when her tongue swirled around my erect clit. Then she was sucking and licking me and making me feel sensations I had never felt before in my life. I could feel the orgasm building inside me and then it was as if a dam had been let loose. "I’m coming!" I heard myself almost screaming in the pleasure of it, "I’m coming Nancy! I’m coming!" I didn’t even realize that I was screaming my daughter’s name. to be continued... ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the hands of children. They should be outside playing in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 27