Lucy's Leanings
by Calandria ©

I suppose I could be described as an ordinary sort of guy – not 
bad-looking, but no film-star, either, and, in my mid-thirties, although 
I'd never admitted it up until then, I had an awful lot to learn about 
sex. My wife had left me for somebody else, but I never had that much 
difficulty finding other women – didn't even have to try very hard, living 
in London, it's fair to say.

But then I met Lucy. Not in the way you usually meet a woman – I don't 
know, in a pub, at a party, at work, whatever – no, in Tesco!

I was thinking about buying some new plates in the hardware department of 
our local supermarket, and was minding my own business, comparing prices, 
when I got a hefty shock. Stood not twenty metres from me, in the same 
aisle, was a very attractive girl, bent over from the waist, looking at 
pots and pans. Well, you may say, what's so different about that? There 
are lots of attractive women shopping on any given day. Sure, but not too 
many bend over, in a short skirt, and don't wear knickers! Neither are they 
completely clean-shaven. 

I fiddled about, as you may well imagine, picking up sets of plates and 
putting them down again, and got a real eyeful. When she finally 
straightened up, I may well have groaned audibly, but there was nobody 
else to share the view, and I felt absolutely compelled to follow her 
around the store, like some kind of pervert. I kept my distance, but 
couldn't help being next to her at the check-out. She carried with her a 
delicate perfume, and was definitely no slag. I guessed she was about 28, 
with longish black hair and a slim figure. She wore a little pleated grey 
miniskirt and a white silk blouse. Her feet were in strappy high-heeled 
sandals, and, as far as I could see, that was the full extent of her 
clothing – she certainly didn't seem to be wearing a bra. 

I have never been one for 'stalking' women, and don't reckon much to those 
who do, but I just knew I couldn't let this one go without at least 
finding out who she was, or where she lived – something – call it 
fascination, if you like.

I followed her, all casual, out to the car-park, and saw her piling her 
stuff into a new Beetle, parked close to my Megane.

She turned from her task and said, straight out, 'You're following me!'

'Er.......well,' – grasp the nettle, Andrew, I thought – 'It's a fair 
cop.' I spread my arms out wide, 'Do you not want to be followed?'

'I like to be seen,' she said, 'and enjoyed, perhaps.'

'I enjoyed you,' I indicated the store, 'back in there.'

'You are?'

'Andrew, a divorced man of 35, with a decent job. And you?' 

'Lucy, 28 year-old dental nurse, single. There, we know each other.'

'Drink?'

'Why not?'

And so our relationship began. We had a beer in the café at Tesco, and sat 
and looked at one another, wondering who was going to break the ice. Then 
we both started to talk and once, stopped and burst out laughing.

'You first,' I said.

'OK. I've just kicked my boyfriend out,' she said, 'jealous!'

Somehow I wasn't surprised after what I had just seen, but thought it best 
to say nothing. She carried on, 'I'm an exhibitionist. I don't know 
whether it's a fetish, if I need some sort of treatment, but I just like 
to show my body off. I don't know you, Andrew, but you seem an OK sort of 
a guy. If, now you've heard that about me, you think you want to know me 
better, I guess we can.....well, meet again?'

I was completely intrigued, and eager to date Lucy as soon as possible. I 
said so.

'OK,' she said, 'but I'd like you to take me to a restaurant you go to 
often. Let's say you're on trial. Tomorrow night OK?'

I arranged to meet her outside Giovanni's, an Italian place I had always 
visited with my ex-wife, at least once a month, and where I was well-known 
to both the staff and the regular clientele. I had difficulty getting 
through the day, the anticipation killing me as never before on a date, 
and wasn't a bit disappointed when I saw Lucy walk up in four inch black 
stilettos, wearing a black coat against the chilly evening. 

We entered the warmth off the restaurant, and the proprietor, the 
eponymous Giovanni, slid behind Lucy to take her coat, whilst I stood to 
one side, being shown our corner table. When she was divested of her coat 
I gasped involuntarily, as she wore a black fishnet mini-dress, under 
which she apparently had nothing more than the tiniest of thongs. The 
obviously rouged, generous nipples on her smallish but still firm breasts, 
poked proudly through the mesh. Giovanni looked on the point of having a 
coronary, as he passed her coat to an assistant, then we were shown to our 
table, the waiter also unable to take his eyes off Lucy's breasts.

'I don't normally wear knickers,' she said, ' but with this dress, I 
thought it might be better.' I saw her point.

Each time the waiters came to our table they were in danger of dropping 
something, and I could see other diners exchanging comments, the men being 
quietly rebuked by their wives and girlfriends for looking hungrily in 
Lucy's direction. I had to say that I rather enjoyed it all, and, as I 
paid the bill, I told Lucy so.

'You don't find me embarrassing?' she asked.

'I should like very much to make love to you,' I said, by way of a reply.

'As opposed to fuck me,' she said, a twinkle in her eye.

'If you put it like that,' I said, and hurried her to my car. 

Whilst we were in the car, she had her thong off, so that as soon as I 
closed the door of my flat, she climbed onto the dining table, visible 
from the entrance, and opened her legs wide, letting her hands play 
wantonly around the lips of her sex.

'I'm so turned on, Andrew,' she said, 'I want you in me, NOW!'

'Wait,' I said, and knelt on the floor in front of her, tonguing her 
clitoris to complete erection, then gouging two fingers deep into her wet 
cunt.

'Now!' she yelled, 'I've got to have you deep in me.' 

I was in danger of shooting my load before I was installed within her, 
after the evening's excitement, anyway, so I obliged, and, standing up, 
rammed my shaft hard into her dripping, oozing fuck-hole, whose muscular 
walls gripped and released me in time with my pulsing thrusts. But I 
couldn't stave off my orgasm for more than seconds, and came in huge, hot 
spurts, as she screamed with the writhing, bucking fury of a stormy 
orgasm.

'Andrew,' she said later, 'not bad. I think you passed the test. I will 
introduce you to my friends, and we may also explore some other stuff, 
eh?'

What 'other stuff' I wondered, all the next day at work, still walking 
about in a dream after the previous night?

The following day was Saturday, and we had arranged to meet for a coffee 
and to do some shopping, then she was going to introduce me to 'someone I 
want you to meet.'

I picked Lucy up outside her home, in which I had yet to set foot, a trim 
town-house in a quiet part of town, and commented favourably on her 
appearance. She indeed looked lovely, in a layered white cotton miniskirt, 
and loose navy-blue silk halter-necked top, which allowed her pointed 
breasts to jiggle constantly as she walked. On her feet, she wore the same 
strappy heels she had worn the first time we had met. As she got into my 
car and kissed me lightly, she very deliberately took hold of my hand and 
placed it, with no resistance on my part, under her tiny skirt. As 
expected, she wore no knickers, and I was obliged to drive into town with a 
raging erection tenting my trousers.

She patted him, as I arrived at the multi-storey car-park, 'Down, Fido,' 
she said, 'later!'

I made her wait before we sallied forth into the precinct, and talked 
about work, which made her laugh, and then we set off for the shops.

We did some window shopping, but Lucy only really wanted a pair of boots, 
so we made for a big shoe-shop, and Lucy sat on the big padded divan in 
the centre of the store and waited for the assistant to attend to her. She 
soon caught the eye of a young guy, in his early twenties, probably a 
student filling in on Saturdays, and asked him sweetly if she could try 
some of the boots she had seen in the window display. He went off and soon 
returned carrying three pairs. He squatted in front of her, whilst I sat 
beside her, and she let the assistant take her shoe off, resting her foot 
on his knee, then smooth the thigh-length boot up her slim leg. As she 
accommodated his action, she opened her legs just enough, and almost 
imperceptibly let her skirt ride up, so that he had a grandstand view of 
her hairless pussy. He did a double take, and I smiled knowingly, as I 
felt I was supposed to do. She told him the boots were not to her liking 
and he nervously fumbled around to try another one on her. She was smiling 
sweetly at him as he zipped up the new boot, and his face was a picture as 
he fought a desire to look long and hard at her gorgeous crack, knowing he 
should try for common decency. 

'Perhaps you have more models in the store-room?' Lucy suggested, 'it 
might save you time if I came with you and helped choose.' 

The youth looked around nervously, and, seeing no other assistant, said, 
'You really shouldn't, but I suppose it'd be alright.' With that they set 
off for the store-room, leaving me sat on the bench, admiring rows off 
shoes. Not five minutes later, Lucy was back. There was no sign of the 
assistant, and she was carrying a pair of boots to take to the check-out. 
She smiled at me, 'Come on!'

'I can see why your last boyfriend might have felt a shade jealous,' I 
ventured.

'Oh, come on,' she said, 'the poor lamb was desperate – and a quick 
hand-job was the least I could do.' My mouth fell open, and she laughed, 
and gave me a playful punch.

'What do you want, Andrew, a nun?' she asked.

We took a coffee in a local Starbuck's and I forgave her – I was not a 
jealous person by nature, and her openness was refreshing. She told me 
she'd arranged for us to meet her oldest friend for lunch, and felt sure 
I'd like her. During the rest of the morning we paid visits to a number of 
shops, but no more shoe-stores, and Lucy didn't actually flash her pussy 
at anyone. I was always conscious, however, that walking beside me was a 
girl wearing the shortest of skirts, with no underwear, and a loose silk 
top, under which her lovely breasts had a life of their own. I felt the 
eyes of every man in town boring into her as we walked along, and knew 
that not one would have refused a fuck if offered, however happily married 
they may profess to be. And Lucy knew it too.

We walked into a small Indian restaurant for lunch, and were met by an 
obsequious owner, who showed us to an alcove, where Lucy's friend was 
already waiting for us.

'Andrew,' said Lucy, 'I want you to meet my great friend and mentor, 
Karen.'

As we exchanged pleasantries, I took stock of Karen. She was in her early 
forties, but still very trim, just showing signs of crow's feet at her 
eye-corners, and smile-wrinkles around her mouth. She had a heart-shaped 
face, piercing blue eyes, and short-cropped, platinum blonde hair. She 
wore a lilac business suit and a brown silk blouse, with single pearl 
ear-rings.

'Karen,' Lucy was saying, 'introduced me to exhibitionism.'

'You don't look much like an exhibitionist yourself,' I said to the older 
woman.

'Oh,' she said, 'but I'm working. I'm a lawyer, and this is my uniform, I 
suppose. Now, I hope you two will do me the favour of coming to dinner 
tonight. I've asked Amy and her current man, and my husband will be there 
too, of course.'

'We'll come, won't we, Andrew?' said Lucy, and I could scarcely refuse.

'You'd better warn him about our dinner parties, Lucy,' said Karen.

'I will, don't worry,' she said.

'What did she mean by that?' I asked, when we were out on the street.

'You should know,' she replied, 'that Karen's parties are a bit unusual.' 

'How – unusual?'

'Well, you know she introduced me to exhibitionism – that should give you 
a clue as to our dress-code – and let's say that things get a bit wild. 
She's Scandinavian, you know.'

I confessed I didn't know, and she told me that Karen and her husband 
Bjorn were Danish, and that they had an 'open' marriage – whatever that 
meant.

By that evening I also knew that Amy, Lucy's friend, who was coming to 
dinner with us as well, worked at the same dental practice as Lucy, as did 
her new boyfriend, Rod. But beyond that I was none the wiser when I called 
around to collect Lucy from her home at eight o'clock. Although it was a 
warm evening, she had a light coat on, so that I had no idea what she wore 
under it, as she got into my car, and when I asked her, she was coy: 'Wait 
and see!' she said.

We arrived at Karen's palatial home, a riverside colonial-style dwelling, 
set in well-tended gardens, and I parked behind her Mercedes on the gravel 
drive.

We walked up the steps, and the first surprise awaited me, when the door 
was opened to us by an oriental-looking maid in traditional uniform of a 
little black dress, with a frilly white apron. Her skirt was so short that 
the tops of her stockings could clearly be seen as she walked in front of 
us. Then she turned, smiling, and held her arm out for Lucy's coat. Lucy 
was just amazing, in a white satin whaleboned corset, which constricted 
her already tiny waist until I felt sure I could span it with the fingers 
of my hands. The corset supported her uncovered breasts, so that her 
rouged nipples were thrust forwards and upwards. Around her waist, she 
wore a transparent nylon frilled slip, mid-thigh-length, which hid 
nothing, and to emphasise this, she had put on a pair of white stockings, 
clipped to the garters of the corset. A pair of metallic stilettos 
completed her ensemble.

Karen greeted us in the dining room – a very different lady from the one 
whom we had met at lunchtime. She was now clad in a fishnet cat-suit, and 
absolutely nothing else, but I was surprised to see that her nipples were 
adorned with two heavy metal rings, to which she had attached a silver 
chain. Her husband Bjorn, a huge, blond, giant of a man, wore a silk 
dressing gown – I wondered if I had needed to bother with the suit.

I was relieved, however, when Amy and Rod appeared, because Rod was a guy 
of my own age, and wore a jacket and chinos, but Amy – wow! Amy was a 
stunning blonde, younger, I guessed, than Lucy, and with a fuller figure, 
and sported a long black nylon gown, which she must have changed into in 
the lobby, as she couldn't have arrived in it. It had long sleeves and a 
narrow skirt, which she could scarcely walk in, but was utterly 
transparent, and every detail of her gorgeous body could be seen through 
it. She had a pierced navel, with a large silver pendant hanging there, 
and between her legs hung another pendant, which must have hung from a 
piercing in her clitoris-hood. When she was introduced to me, her pierced 
tongue grazed my cheek.

'Impressed, eh?' said Lucy. I could hardly be otherwise, the gathering was 
a voyeur's dream, and Lucy was amused to see my eyes unable to leave her 
friend Amy for long, as we ate.

I toyed with my food, quite frankly, not helped by Lucy's hand, which 
found my ready erection under the table, or Amy's stiletto-clad foot, 
which insisted on playing with my ankle from directly opposite, while I 
watched the subtle movements of her full breasts as she talked and 
laughed, under the black, transparent nylon. 

When we finished, and were enjoying a coffee, still sat around the table, 
Bjorn came and stood behind Lucy, massaging her shoulders. She turned half 
to me and said, 'Bjorn has always had the hots for me - haven't you, 
darling?' this, turning back to him, as his hands gently dropped to her 
hardening nipples, and she sighed in contentment, wriggling in her seat. I 
felt her hand tighten around my cock with her own excitement, and saw that 
Amy was watching intently. Meanwhile, her boyfriend, Rod, was engaged in 
conversation with Karen, who had moved around to his side, and was leaning 
close to him. 

As I watched Amy, her tongue darted from between her lips, just enough for 
me to see the arcane silver stud, and ran along between her little, even 
teeth. She lowered her lids, and I felt her foot ran further up my leg, 
then back down again.

Suddenly, Lucy's mouth was at my ear, 'She wants you to fuck her,' I was 
astonished to hear her say, 'but she likes it best in the arsehole, by the 
way.'

Amy seemed to know the way to a bedroom, and, as we went, Karen was 
leading Rod off to another one, whilst Lucy, Bjorn, and the maid, Su-Lin, 
were going in yet another direction.

When we got to the bedroom, Amy turned to me, and took my head in her 
hands, kissing me fiercely, her tongue-stud a new experience in my mouth, 
as she sought my own tongue with hers. Her dress was a crumpled mess on 
the floor in no time at all, and she knew no shyness, dropping to the bed, 
her legs wide apart, so that the ring in her clitoris-hood, with its short 
pendant attached, dangled down across her hairless pink slit.

I fell upon her, and parting her labia, drew a great gasp from her as I 
pushed my tongue hard into her wet cunt, tasting the sweet juices now 
oozing from her. I pulled back to admire her, and saw at a glance the 
truth of what Lucy had said. Her arsehole was a lovely, broad tunnel, a 
mystic cavern, and I couldn't resist delving my tongue into its dark 
depths, as far as it would go, then plunging three fingers in, which 
brought a great moan of anticipation from her. 

But Amy was pulling me around all the while, too, reaching for my shaft, 
and I resisted as long as I could, because I knew that if I spent long in 
her mouth, I was going to cum in no time at all. But now she had me in her 
hands, and fondled me before taking my length into her lips, and running 
that stud around my crown, driving me to distraction, so that I had to use 
all the control I had at my disposal. I pulled out of her mouth to avoid 
any accident, and she grinned, as I knelt at the portals of heaven, then 
with the one single thrust it took, entered its kingdom. For heaven was 
Amy's anus, its velvet walls gripping me with sheath-like power as I drove 
into her, and stimulated her decorated clit with my hand.

'Oh, Andrew,' she yelled, 'fuck me, hard.' And so I did, until she 
screamed with the ferocity of a massive orgasm, and I released, at last, 
the pent-up contents, of my tortured balls, in hot streams, into the 
depths of her bowels.

'Good evening?' asked Lucy, later.

'Yep, and you?'

We are still together, two years later.