Filthy Porn - Jean

Chapter 5: Paula and Sammy

When I had got over my outdoor adventure I realised I was at a bit of a dead end.

The magazine Johnnie had sent me was out of date and I didn't have Johnnie's phone number or Becky and John's. What next? Perhaps I could buy a magazine. But where from?

I went to W H Smith and scoured the top shelf. They didn't have the magazines I was looking for. But on the way home I stopped for petrol. And there, on the top shelf I saw it: New Directions. I had no idea my petrol station sold such things and if I had I probably would not have bought petrol there in the past. But I couldn't buy the magazine - they knew me well. But at least I knew where to look now.

I don't know how many petrol stations there are in Buckinghamshire, but I think I visited most of them looking for another that sold my magazine. Finally, in a seedy little place I saw it. A sudden, very strong surge of excitement hit me as I spied it. Even buying a magazine was giving me a sexual thrill!

I took my time. There was no-one in there except the young girl on the till. I took down four magazines that looked likely - New Directions, Journal of Love, Experience and Forum.

When I paid, the girl didn't bat an eyelid, but she did ask if I wanted a bag for them. I declined.

At home I laid my new treasures out on the table. Which one first? I started on familiar territory, New Directions. So much to choose from! I scanned through the others. Journal of Love was similar to New Directions, Forum had fewer ads - and I didn't understand many of them.

I found myself wanting to try something different, something new. But what? A woman? That was too alien, I couldn't bring myself to do that. Then I thought of Becky. Watching Becky had aroused me. I could have touched Becky, I could have let Becky touch me. But no, I couldn't imagine being alone with another woman, what would you do?

I was still trying to decide when Johnnie rang.

"Jeanie, that party, you game?"

I had forgotten all about it.

"I'm not sure, Johnnie. What do you think?"

"Yea, you'd love it," Johnnie said. "I'll look after you, no sweat."

Whether it was the thought of seeing Johnnie again, or the prospect of going to what I assumed was going to be an orgy, I wasn't sure, but I said 'yes'.

"You'll need some gear. Got a pen?"

Johnnie gave me a phone number.

"You'll look good in black leather," he said. "Got just the figure for it. Ta ta."

He hadn't told me where or when the party was.

The next morning I rang the number Johnnie had given me. I wasn't sure what to say. A well spoken lady answered.

"Hello. I've been given your number, I'm going to a party and I understand you sell, er, costumes?" I said.

There was a short pause. "Jean?"

"Yes," I said.

"Hello, Jean, Johnnie said you would call. You're going to a leather party, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Fine. When would you like to come over, we'll find something to suit you."

"Tomorrow?" I suggested. "Where exactly is your shop?"

"It isn't a shop, I work from home. Tomorrow would be fine." She gave me the address.

When I got there I checked the address very carefully. It was a large, elegant house in its own grounds. But it was the right place. I rang the bell.

An attractive woman, around 30 I guessed, greeted me. She was wearing the sort of white coat that dental nurses wear.

She ushered me into the hallway. In the hall there was a similarly dressed girl, but much younger, perhaps twenty.

"Please come in, Jean. I'm Paula, this is my assistant Samantha."

"This is a lovely house," I said. "Business must be booming!"

Paula laughed. "Oh no, my husband earns all the money, I do this as a hobby. Would you like to come through?"

We went into the sitting room and Samantha brought some tea.

"Now," Paula said. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

"Not really. To be honest I've never been to a party like this before."

I wasn't sure Paula realised exactly what sort of party I was going to. She put my mind at rest. "Don't worry, nothing shocks us these days, does it, Sammy? You'd be amazed at some of the things we get asked to provide."

I felt happier. They seemed to think that going to a sex party was a perfectly normal thing to do, so I did not feel embarrassed. When we had finished our tea, Paula said: "Well, let's get started, shall we go up?"

We went into an upstairs room furnished with several chairs, a solid looking oak table in the centre and an open wardrobe full of clothes. An old fashioned sewing machine stood on a small table under the window.

"If you'd like to undress," Paula said. "We'll be with you in a moment."

"Undress?" I hadn't been expecting that.

"Yes," Paula said. "Everything. Give us a shout when you're ready." Paula and Samantha went out onto the landing pulling the door to behind them.

I swallowed hard and began to undress. I could hear them discussing me.

"She's got a nice head of hair," I could hear Paula saying. "I think black, don't you?"

"Yes," Samantha replied. "She looks like a D to me, and the legs looked quite good too."

I stripped down to my knickers, wondering if I should keep them on or not. But Paula had said 'everything', and not wanting to seem prudish I took them off too and put them on the chair, hiding them under my other clothes.

I cleared my throat. "All right," I said.

Paula and Samantha came back in and looked my up and down.

"Hmmm," Paula said. "Yes, some good raw material there. What do you think, Sammy?"

Samantha nodded. "Yes, I think so."

Paula went round behind me. "And a nice bottom too. Sammy?"

And Samantha went round to have a look at my bottom as well. Having sized up my posterior they came round in front of me again.

"Now then, Jean," Paula said. "Put your hands on your hips, your feet apart, shoulders back."

I followed Paula's instructions. She looked at me approvingly.

"Statuesque, you might even say, and no rolls of fat here either," Paula patted my sides. "You must do a lot of exercise."

"A bit of keep fit, you know," I said.

Paula looked at my legs. "Now then," she mused. "Let's start here, shall we? Boots. What do you think, Sammy, to about here?"

Paula traced a circle round my leg just above my knee.

Samantha was standing back looking at me: "No, the thighs are too heavy."

"Here, then?" And Paula traced a circle around my leg half way up my thigh.

"Hmmm," Samantha went, unsure.

"Or full length?" And Paula traced a circle right at the top of my thigh, the back of her hand just brushing against my pubic hair as she did so. I didn't flinch.

"No," Sammy said. "I think half way. The thighs are nice and smooth, half way should show them off nicely."

Paula took a tape measure and measured from floor to mid thigh.

Sammy wrote down the measurement.

"Well, that's one decision made. Now then, what about the face? Do you want to wear a mask, Jean?"

"A mask?"

Realising I didn't have an opinion, Paula turned to Sammy. "What do you think, Sammy? Like this?"

Paula made circles with her fingers and thumbs and put them to my eyes, her body unavoidably pressing against my naked side as she did so.

"No. She's got a very pretty face. We should leave that uncovered," Sammy said, once again commenting about me, not speaking to me.

"I think a collar, don't you?" Paula put two fingers across my neck. "This wide? Or like this?"

"The narrower would be better." Samantha wrote down the details.

"What do you think about the top?" Paula said.

They studied my breasts critically.

"You see, they're quite firm," Paula said, placing a hand under my left breast and lifting it. "Wouldn't pass the pencil test, but..." She took her hand away.

"Were you thinking of a full cup or a half cup, Jean? Or would you like us to suggest?"

"You're the experts," I said, trying not to let on I thought there was anything out of the ordinary in her touching me like that.

Paula went behind me and put her hands through under my arms, then up, lifting my breasts, two fingers under each breast.

She said to Samantha: "How does that look?"

Samantha said: "Needs more support than that, they would hang over the front."

Paula now lifted each of my breasts with three fingers. "Like this? Or like this?" And now she cupped my breasts with her whole hands, her forefingers coming just below my nipples.

"Yes," Samantha said walking towards me. "That gives a really nice swell to the breasts here."

Samantha ran her hand across the tops of my breasts to show what she meant.

Well! Paula holding my breasts up and her assistant feeling their swelling shape may be everyday stuff for them, but for me it was quite a new experience. I wasn't sure whether I was surprised, shocked or enjoying it.

Paula took her hands away and came round in front of me again. "So, we think the support cup to about here." And with her forefinger she drew lines just under the areola of my breasts. Then she had a thought. "What about a peep hole, Jean?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"A bra, but holes for your nipples to poke through. But, er," she put her tape measure across my areola. "Hmmm, sometimes they look best if they show a bit of white around them. And really for a peep hole you need nipples that can really stand up. Let's see."

Paula took my left nipple between her first and second fingers, as if she was holding a cigarette, and she brushed her thumb across its tip. Again, I acted as if this was the most natural thing for her to do.

As Paula tried to ascertain whether I had the right kind of nipples for a peep hole bra I had to admit to experiencing a certain tingling sensation.

"And the other one," Paula said, switching her attentions to my other nipple.

When she had made both of them stand up she said: "Yes, they stand up beautifully, don't they?" She gave them both a final tug then took a step back to look at them. "Yes. What do you think, Sammy?"

But Samantha was shaking her head. She thought the half cup would be best after all. After all that.

It wasn't cold, but I did seem to be trembling.

"What about the waist?" Paula said to herself. She put her hands on my waist. "Yes, no rolls of fat there at all. Sammy?"

"She's got a nice stomach, nice shape," Samantha said, running her hand over the swell of my belly. "I'd say nothing, show it off."

Paula agreed. "So, no corset, no basque. Now, what about the knickers? Turn around would you, Jean?"

I turned my back to them.

"Do you get sore here at all?" Paula's forefinger was at the top of the cleft of my bottom.

"No," I said.

"Have you ever worn a string? Paula asked.

"A string?"

"Yes, knickers with just a string at the back."

"No, I haven't," I said.

"OK, bend forward would you?" Paula said.

I leaned forward and Paula unceremoniously parted my buttocks.

"What do you think, Sammy, would a thong be all right? Or a full back?"

Well they were certainly thorough in their work.

"Her bottom is quite firm here," Samantha said, feeling the bottom of my buttocks to test their firmness. "She doesn't need any support, so I think a thong back."

Paula agreed and thong back was written down.

I was turned around.

"Now the front. Sammy?"

Sammy bent down and looked closely at my pubic area.

"I can't really see," Sammy said.

"Put your feet a little further apart would you, Jean?" Paula said. I did so and Paula said: "Is that better, Sammy?"

"A bit," Sammy said. "She's very wide here." Samantha was gauging the gap between the inside of my thighs, her thumb and forefinger pushing outwards against my thighs, her fingers only a fraction away from my most private place.

"Do you think the full front then?" Paula said.

"I can't really see," Samantha said again, studying my sex closely.

"Jean would you mind sitting on the end of the table there? We want to get this bit right, don't we?"

I was reluctant to sit on the table and show myself to them, not because I was shy, but I was afraid they might be able to tell from looking at me there that I was getting just a little bit excited.

But since I couldn't really say no, I sat on the edge of the table as requested.

"That's it," Paula said. "Lean back on your elbows. That's it. Can you open your legs a bit wider please, Jean?"

Perhaps it wouldn't show. I opened myself to their professional scrutiny.

"Hmmm," Paula went. "You're quite fleshy, aren't you, Jean? What do you think, Sammy, full front like this?" And Paula put the palm of her hand on my pubic mound and her fingers down onto my sex as if simulating the front of a pair of knickers.

I caught my breath as she touched me. But I kept smiling.

Samantha looked hard at me, at Paula's hand on me, but she could not decide.

"Which do you prefer, Jean, a normal crotch that tends to do this?" Paula squeezed her outside fingers together, pushing the lips of my sex together, "which gives you a nice womanly bulge there, or do you prefer a pair with a centre seam that separates like this." Paula's middle finger was resting along the groove of my sex. She pressed that finger down to simulate a central seam. She only pressed very lightly, but I was so wet her finger slid between my lips. Like breaking through an eggshell into the wetness within.

She had not meant to do that. She withdrew her hand, managing not to look embarrassed. She made no comment about my state. And I was getting in to quite a state.

"Yes," Paula said. "I think a central seam might suite you nicely."

They stood back, both looking straight at my sex.

"Mind you," Samantha said. "With all that to show off maybe open crotch would be best?"

"Open crotch?" I said weakly.

"Yes, they are open sort of here," Paula said, tracing a line around the margins of my sex. So much for her embarrassment.

Samantha had another idea: "What about a clit slit?" she said.

"A what?" I said, doing my best to control the quaver in my voice.

"Oh, they're great fun, particularly for girls with big clits," Paula said. "It's like a full front but there is a slit or hole in the leather just here." Paula put a finger either side of my clitoris and pressed down. "You see? They sort of press against you like this so that your clitoris pokes out through the hole." My clitoris stood proud between her fingers.

All this touching was having a definite effect on me. I was feeling mesmerised, in a trance.

"And of course if you really want to show off, you pull up on the waist band and your clitoris pops out from under its little hood." And Paula pulled her fingers up to show what she meant, uncovering my most sensitive part to her and Samantha's sight.

My elbows were starting to hurt so I lay down on my back on the table.

"And you see, if you want to have fun, you pull up and down on the waist band, like this," Paula explained, moving her fingers down, then up again, then down again, pressing firmly down on either side of my clitoris.

She took her hand away. "Would you like a pair like that?" she asked.

I tried to say I wasn't sure, but no sound came out. I cleared my throat and mumbled a 'yes'.

But Samantha had another idea: "How about a five string?"

"Yes," Paula said, weighing the idea. "You could be right, Sammy. A five string is just five strings of leather," Paula explained. "One here..." and she ran a fingertip up between the outer edge of my sex and my thigh. "One here..." and she ran her fingertip up the furrow between the outer and inner lip of my sex. "One here..." And, my god, now she was running a finger right up the middle of my sex and over my clitoris. "One here..." her finger tracing between outer and inner lip. "And one this side," her finger ran between sex and thigh.

Keep calm, keep calm, stop trembling, I told to myself.

"But you need to be very well defined here for a five string," - and she illustrated the 'here' by touching the inner lips of my sex - "otherwise it doesn't stay in place." Then she added thoughtfully: "Sometimes if you pull on your labia to extend them when you're getting dressed that helps things stay put."

And she held the inner lips of my sex and pulled on them. Her fingers slipped off, but she re-established her grip and pulled again, stretching the lips of my sex to see how far they would extend.

"Yes," she said. "I think they would stay like that long enough. I think a five string would suit you. With some of them the middle string is actually split here into a vee shape." Paula made a vee shape with two fingers under my clitoris. She pushed upwards against my most sensitive spot to simulate the action of the leather vee. I tried not to moan out loud.

"So if you pull them up tight you can get a bit of a tingle," Paula added.

A bit of a tingle! If they didn't stop this I was really going to embarrass myself by having a orgasm. Hiding an orgasm at such close quarters would not be easy. But I was beginning not to care what they thought.

"So," Paula said standing back. "It's a five string, yes?"

"Well," Samantha said. "Yes, but if it's going to be black leather it'll be hidden by all this pubic hair." Samantha came forward and pulled at the hair around my sex.

"Hmmm," Paula said thoughtfully. "We could do it in white leather. But black is definitely you, Jean."

I gave a little nod. I was still lying flat on my back.

"You could shave, of course," Paula said. "Not everything, just from here downwards." Paula put the side of her hand across my clitoris to show where she meant.

I muttered something about not being sure I could shave down there.

"Would you like us to do it for you?" Paula offered helpfully.

I didn't want this to end. I nodded.

Paula moved two chairs into place and put my feet, which had been dangling over the edge of the table, on them. That only made my knees fall wider apart. I didn't mind. I was feeling quite shameless now.

Samantha was instructed to fetch the shaving equipment. When she had left Paula said: "It's an L&B, is that right, Jean?"

"Mmm?" was all I could manage.

"Leather and bondage. Nothing heavy I hear though, but you should have a pair of wrist cuffs at least, don't you think?" Paula rummaged in a box in the bottom of the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs, then a pair made out of leather that had a long strap hanging from them.

"I think the leather ones will be more comfortable for you, shall we try them?"

She stood behind me, at the head of the table. I put my hands up over my head. Paula fixed the cuffs around my wrists.

"We'll leave them on for a few minutes to make sure they don't chafe," Paula said.

I felt my arms being pulled back as Paula tied the leather strap somewhere under the table. I was past caring. I was in a state of drowsy arousal, but hiding it well I was sure. I lay there in a torpor, my hands pinned tightly down above my head. I could feel that I was running with excitement.

Samantha came back with the shaving stuff. A man's Gillette razor, the sort Harry used to use years ago, a shaving brush and a stick of shaving foam and a kidney shaped bowl of water. It could have come from our bathroom shelf twenty years ago.

Perhaps I looked alarmed because Paula said: "Don't worry, it's quite safe. I haven't nicked anyone yet."

Paula pulled a low stool into position between my legs. She worked up a lather on the brush. At least the foam would hide my lubrication, I could stop worrying about that. My nose itched. I moved my hand to scratch it, forgetting my hands were pinioned. I sank back letting everything relax. I was going to enjoy this.

Paula started to brush the shaving foam up and down on my sex. Now I could safely dribble lubricant to my heart's content.

Paula lifted my right leg back towards me, lifting my foot off the chair and up onto the table so she could get at me with the razor. I could feel that my sex was open. Paula must have been able to look right inside me. I didn't care. Samantha stood to one side watching closely.

I felt the first pull of the razor upwards on my outer lip and winced slightly. Paula stopped.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Mm, mm," was all I could utter, shaking my head.

Paula carried on. She put her fingers at the top of my sex and pushed upwards, stretching me for the razor. She pulled the razor down, starting just beside my clitoris. And so she went on. I shut my eyes and let the sensations sweep over me, only concentrating when her pushings and pullings were in danger of bringing me to climax. Then I had to focus to resist it.

After what seemed an age, a delightful age, Paula announced she had finished. I roused myself enough to lift my head and thank her.

"Sammy will wash you while I go and clean up," she said.

Samantha must have gone out at some point because there she was now with a bowl of hot water and a flannel.

Paula left the room and Samantha took her place on the stool. Samantha put the flannel in the hot water, squeezed it almost dry and draped it over my sex. I closed my eyes again, the heat of the flannel feeling so gorgeous against me. Control, control!

Samantha wiped the shaving foam from me, easing the flannel into every fold of me, touching every sensitive part of me. This was too much, I was going to come.

I tried to relax, not to let her know I was hovering on the brink of an orgasm. Samantha was drying me now with a soft towel. I kept control of myself.

Samantha inspected me closely, I felt her moving each of my lips in turn, gently parting me to make sure no foam was left in any fold or crevice.

"There's a bit here," she said. "May I?" I struggled to raise my head to see what she was asking permission for.

She was holding my lips apart and, my god, her tongue was extended and only an inch away from me.

I let out a little 'yes' and a sigh and sank back onto the table waiting for the touch of her tongue on my sex.

Samantha put her tongue against me, in the groove between outer and inner lip. It was just the slightest of contacts, but it sent such an electrifying shudder up my spine. Samantha traced her tongue up almost to my clitoris and then parted from me. It was all just the slightest, the lightest, the most delicate of touches with the tip of her tongue. But such an overwhelmingly glorious feeling!

"And a little bit went inside you, I think," Samantha said. She pulled my inner lips apart and again I felt the tiny trace of her tongue, its tip flicking from side to side just within the portals of my sex. Oh!

My hips were off the table. I was trembling on the very edge and could resist no longer.

Samantha said: "And there's a little bit on your clitoris as well." And now I felt her push back the hood of my clitoris with her fingers. And, oh god, I felt the tiny tip of her tongue on the very tip of that most sensuous place, like a tiny butterfly alighting beautifully there.

Every muscle in my body was tensed, I was desperate for release.

Then a slight flicker of Samantha's tongue on that place - the butterfly flapping its wings.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes," I heard myself say. "Please, Sammy, please!" I couldn't help myself any more, it was all too much for me. I just wanted her to move her tongue that tiny bit more, that tiny bit harder, just one more time and I would be there.

But the door opened and Paula strode in.

"Samantha! What do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

Samantha backed away and stood up. Paula picked up a ruler and hit Samantha hard across the back of her legs. Samantha yelped. Paula slapped her across the face and told her to get out.

Paula apologised profusely to me. Samantha would be sacked, of course.

I was only half conscious. I was shaking. I couldn't think clearly. Paula untied my wrists and sat me upright. She helped me on with my clothes. Then we were on the stairs.

In the hall Paula put something into my hand, a magazine or something. I was outside. I was in my car. I shook my head to try and regain some sense. All I could feel was a desperate ache, somewhere, somewhere down there. I started the car and drove off.

After a few hundred yards I had to stop I pulled into a bus stop to collect my thoughts. There was only one thing I wanted - an orgasm. An hour, or was it more, of being touched, rubbed, moved, pressed, shaved, licked was just too much for this innocent.

I had never done this before, but now I had to, I simply had to. I pulled my knickers off and put them on the passenger seat. I lay back. I put my hand up my skirt and between my legs. I was so wet!

It felt strange, my own hand on my most sensitive spot. I found myself picturing Becky, and how she had done it to herself. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to it. It did not take long. I was coming, and in my mind I was coming with Samantha's tongue on me and Paula's fingers playing with my nipples, with both of them feeling me, lifting me, testing me, touching me, probing me. I came. I came so violently I seemed to lose consciousness for an instant.

As I finally opened my eyes I became aware of a car parked on the other side of the road, of someone getting out of the car and approaching me. It was a policeman.

I calmed myself as best I could, wound the window down and smiled at him.

"Are you all right, madam?" the young policeman asked solicitously.

"Yes, constable, yes, thank you."

"We were driving towards you and you looked as though you might be unwell."

"No, really, I'm fine."

They'd seen me having an orgasm!

The policeman looked at me suspiciously now. "Have you been drinking, madam?"

My genuine indignation convinced him I hadn't. He looked around inside the car, his eyes alighting upon the passenger seat. I followed his gaze. There sat my very wet knickers and the catalogue Paula had given me, with a picture of a girl on the front cover showing her all, despite wearing a lot of leather.

The policeman cleared his throat, the truth perhaps dawning. "Very well, madam, on your way. But, er..." But he couldn't find appropriate words of advice with which to finish his sentence.

He stepped away from the car, stopped the traffic and waved me out of the bus stop.

I bet he will tell that story a few times.

It took me several days properly to regain my composure.

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