Scents And Sensitivity - Sex Stories

Scents And Sensitivity

... fluttered more than a little at the thought of being seen. I'd always had an exhibitionist streak in me, a streak I hadn't really indulged in since my days as earning money for college as a stripper.

It's how Joan and I had met. She'd been the first woman to ever ask me for a lap dance. And I'd been more than happy to oblige her. Because she was fucking gorgeous.

I still remember my heart racing as I straddled her face, my G-string covered pussy just inches from her luscious lips as I danced provocatively, swinging and thrusting my hips, as if begging her to kiss me there. Which I suppose I was.

She couldn't of course. Against the rules of the club. So instead she leaned in, as close as she could without making actual contact, and inhaled. Her stunning blueish green eyes locked into mine as she breathed me in, and I knew immediately she wasn't just a curious or confused girl, but a woman who knew exactly what she wanted: another woman.

Me.

She took me home that night, and I never left, really.

Twenty years later, our desire for each other was still as strong as ever, although often tempered by the realities of life. And Joan had always been indulgent of my occasional wanderlust. While she had no need or desire for men, I, on the other hand, occasionally, well... dabbled.

But not in a long time. The past several years had been a happy if somewhat routine life, and as time passed I found Joan was all I really needed.

Joan; my lovely, sweet Joan. At 45, ...

... still the sexiest woman ever. Time had only matured her like a fine wine.

Looking in the full length mirror of our bedroom, I had to admit time hadn't been that harsh on me, either.

I stood there, admiring my full figured body and debating on whether I had time for a quick fingering session before my shower when the doorbell rang.

I quickly slipped on my robe and headed downstairs.

"You're early."

Martin blushed, taken aback at the sight of me in my bathrobe. "I'm sorry, Tess. Did I catch you at a bad time? I can come back later if..."

"Oh, don't be silly." I offered him a reassuring smile. "Come on in. Get out of the heat; it's getting more oppressive by the minute!"

Martin stepped inside gratefully and followed me upstairs. I suddenly became very aware of just how short my robe was. I've never been shy, but still I felt the need to be mindful of just how far I was ahead of him, and where his eye level might be.

If Martin had seen anything untoward, he certainly didn't mention it. And while his face did appear a little flushed as we entered the bedroom, that may have simply been a residual effect of the early afternoon heat.

Martin browsed quickly through the organizer instruction manual. "Should be easy enough. Nothing a screwdriver, drill and a tape measure can't fix."

"Good," I smiled. "I was hoping it wouldn't be too complicated. I meant to take a shower before you arrived. So if you don't mind, I'll just leave you to it then."

I could ...