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Beverly is a Beautiful Lady
Some people are raised in strict, loving and conservative homes. Some conservativeness is lasting and binding on young members of the family. Some conservative views, especially on dress, gender and sex are extreme — compared to today’s news and morals.
I was raised that way. My Mom wore her hair in a bun, and she wore ankle length dresses and skirts. She never wore makeup, and worked hard in an assembly plant in Georgia. Mom was a strict Baptist all her life. I’ve followed in her steps.
I always buy panties on sale, in a discount store, and with three or more in a pack. They’re plain white and waist high with a reinforced crotch. My bras are plain white, full-figured, and also bulk packaged. I buy my bras a size too small in chest and cup. My breasts are full, but the bra, always worn with a loose fitting top, holds them firmly in place against my chest. I’ve heard people comment that it was too bad that I didn’t have larger breasts.
My skirts are higher than Mom’s were, but still several inches below my knees. My skirts are always oversized, too, and I never wear pants. My hair is in a bun like Mom’s was. A bun is easy to wash, easy to set, and doesn’t draw attention t me after the first glance. I never wear makeup, and I work as a teller in a bank.
I’ve never been married, and only had a few dates — never a steady. I’ve never made love, or petted. I’ve never seen a man’s body except in billboards or on TV. I attend Church twice a month, and I’m lonely.
My desk is closest to the coffee machine in the bank. The newer girls and a few guys are the front counter tellers. I spend most of my time at the desk. People congregate around that coffee machine and they tend to distract me, although I try to ignore them. I hear all kinds of things from them as I work.
I hear about their dates, the new loves in their lives, the conquests they make, and their families and yes, even their sex lives. The young ones are the worst, but many of the older gals and guys are involved, too. Some have lovers in addition to husbands or wives. They don’t even know I’m around — but I am.
I have one good friend at the bank, and we talk at work and on the phone from home. She is a few years younger, but very competent. She’s also, marginally more sociable than I am. She’s had a few steadies, and even almost married twice. She tells me all about her dates and I always listen attentively. She uses a lot of “You know” in our talks. I told her several times when we first met, that I didn’t know, but she still asks. Last week the bank hired a new guy. He’s a good worker and handsome. He also introduced himself to me — walked right up and said “Hi! I’m Dave” bold as you please. What could I do, I said ‘Hi’ and went back to work. He’s been on my mind a lot lately.
I asked my friend if she thought a guy would ever ‘like’ me, and she said that if I dressed up they might. Three nights ago she came over and the discussion continued. She said that I was too quiet and that I had to dress more provocatively. She also said that I should get my hair done, get some nice heels, a tight dress, and sexy undies. She said that if I needed them, I should pad my bra. She also said that I should buy and learn to use some makeup.
You can’t imagine how insulted I was. I wanted to ask her to leave — but I didn’t. She used the makeup from her purse to show me some things about its use. She even told me what ‘colors’ to use and what part of my face I should emphasize as well as how to emphasize it. And then, she demanded that I release my bun. I did, and the hair cascaded over my shoulders. She took a hairbrush from my dresser, brushed my hair to straighten it, and then told me that I should always wear it that way. I listened attentively, and when she left I took a hot shower and washed it all off. While I was in the shower I decided to shave my legs (I started doing that after getting into Poison Ivy when I was about nineteen) — nobody ever sees them so I’ve never shaved them often. As I reached the top of my legs, I noticed the long black hair at my crotch and shaved it for the first time ever — what’s gotten into me?
When I’d finished my evening’s ablution, I wrapped a towel around my body and went into the bedroom. As I passed the dresser’s mirror, I caught just a glimpse of myself. I returned to the front of the mirror and studied myself. Would I look better in makeup? Would the guys like me better that way? I dropped the towel to the floor and studied my body. My breasts are not small I told myself, and if I wore clothes like some of those other girls, they’d see that I wasn’t small. I studied my body, turned and studied my profile, and then I turned around and picked up a mirror to look over my shoulder at myself. I thought my ass was fine, in fact I thought it better than many I’d seen. I reached around and with one hand pulled my cheeks apart — they were nice, too.
When I turned back around, I examined tuzla bayan escort my freshly shaved pussy. It had been the focus of my attention many times in the past when I felt life passing me by. I placed a finger on each side of it and raised it. It felt good and I stopped for a moment feeling how close my hand was. I moved back and sat on the edge of my bed and then lay back upon it while I brought my feet up to rest on the edge of the mattress. I spread my legs further apart and my knees spread. Slowly I began to slide my fingers back and forth along my pussy. I hadn’t done this in a very long time, but there was something arousing about its nude softness that I wasn’t used to.
Slowly I used two of my fingers to spread my lips and brought the third finger inside. I felt so good, and the warmth of the feeling radiated outward. I began to explore myself and found great pleasure. After a few moments I felt myself climax, but I wasn’t through yet. I brought my stronger right hand in and raised the fingers of my left to my mouth. I could smell the sweetness, and as my fingers entered my mouth, I began to suck them while imagining this all being caused by a nice man. He would stroke me like this, and I would shudder. He would place my fingers in his mouth and lick them clean.
Then he would feel the want to taste me and drop onto his knees on the floor at the side of the bed. He would lower his head to my naked pussy and begin with his soft tongue and lips. I would climax instantly, but he would ignore it and continue. Slowly he would warm and lubricate me with his tongue. He would raise his lips to my clit and suck gently while his tongue flicked and rubbed it. His hand would come up and his educated fingers would enter my pussy. His fingers would bend and find my sensitive G-spot and begin their work. In moments I would cum and then with his mouth I would cum again. He would quickly suck the juice into his mouth and run his tongue through it, savoring the taste. Now I climaxed on the bed, and my mind returned to my dream. I asked myself “Can I find him?”
Spent and feeling the best I have in months, I stretched out on the bed and began massaging my sensitive nipples. He would do this, too. He would bury his face in them and tweak and fondle one breast while sucking and licking the other. He’d be able to switch from one breast to the other so fast that I wouldn’t lose an instant. He would be able to make me cum just by attending to my breasts.
When he was through, and my body had begun to cool, he would lie atop me and let me slowly guide him in like this. And then he would begin to fuck me. He would be a magnificent and slow lover. He would know every part of my body and how to make love to it. After a moment, he would grab both of my cheeks and roll on the bed and put me on top. I would bring my knees up and back and rock on him while he thrusts and strokes me. His — cock??? — Mmmm yes that sounded nice. His cock would make love to me, and I would drive him out of his mind by loving him like no other lady ever had or will again. I filled my sheet with cum, and laid in it until I could catch my breath. I wondered again if I would ever find him, and if men would ever look at me greedily, wanting my body. I put a towel to cover the wet spot on my bed, turned out the light and slept better than I had in months.
As I listen to the gossip the next morning, I hear that the new guy is single and probably available. Two of the girls decide to compete and see who gets him. It’s as if they’re playing a game. You move, now it’s my turn. I’ve heard of it before, I mean I’m thirty four and I’ve heard a lot of things from other people, but this is the closest I’ve been to seeing it for myself. Don’t they care what he thinks?
As I left that evening, I had to go to a department store for a wallet. Mine was falling apart. As, I walked past the makeup counter, I noticed a saleslady demonstrating the selection and application of makeup. Should I keep on walking? Yes, but I was drawn to watch and listen. After her demonstration, most of the ladies walked away and left me standing alone, like an idiot. The saleslady spotted me instantly and hurried over. She asked if I’d seen their new line of cosmetics, and I said no. Before long I was getting my own demonstration, and she was applying some of it to me. I don’t now why I didn’t tell her to stop and then walk away, but I didn’t. Before long she produced a mirror and I looked. I couldn’t believe how differently I looked, and just then two high school boys walked by and whistled at me. I bought the cosmetic kit — it was expensive, but…
When I left cosmetics and walked to the accessories area, I passed more interesting items. A mannequin was displaying a bra and panty set. It didn’t leave much to my imagination, but again I was curious. I asked how much the set was. It was expensive. I asked the lady if she though they had my size. When she asked what size tuzla olgun escort I didn’t know what to answer, so she escorted me to a dressing room and asked me to partially undress. When she came back, she commented that I was a lot better ‘developed’ than she’d thought. She measured me and left and returned with a set. My hair is very dark and long. She told me that I would look best in either black or scarlet. I couldn’t wear something scarlet, could I? I chose black, and after I paid, I asked if I could wear it home. She was delighted to let me.
I couldn’t believe how brazen I was being. But, I brushed out my hair again, put on my new bra and panties and thought they looked okay — bikini breezy and daring, and revealing, but okay I guess. The saleslady again approached and asked if I’d like to try on a dress or skirt. Why not? — I may as well be damned and branded as a hussy, but I was covertly enjoying myself. I would never wear these things out of my apartment, but what was wrong with wearing them inside occasionally?
The dress she had me try on was black, low cut on my bosom, and the hem was only a little below my buttocks. She told me that I looked good and led me to a mirror outside the dressing room. As I was looking, I turned and tried to see myself from different angles. As I finished, and started back to the dressing room, a light applause rippled through the air. I turned to see where it was coming from and almost fainted. There must have been more than twenty five people standing and watching me. Some of them were ladies, but most of them were men, and one of the ladies asked the clerk to see the same outfit that the ‘model’ was wearing. I blushed deeply and almost ran to the dressing room. I sat in the small straight-backed chair for a long time — totally embarrassed.
It seemed a long time before the clerk came back to ask if I was alright. I tried to tell her how embarrassed I was and she just laughed. She said that I’d gotten more attention than any ‘showing’ they’d ever had. She said her manager came over and wanted to know what the fuss was about, and some guy told her how great their model had been. The store sold six similar dresses while I was in the dressing room, and then the manager came in and asked me if I wanted a part-time job. She volunteered to give me any dress that sold more than five copies after I showed it. What was happening to me?
Well, I redressed in my regular clothing and carried my new purchases out to my car. I lost track of time and must’ve been on autopilot all the way home. I went into my apartment and locked the doors. I cried for awhile and wondered if I could take everything back to the store. It was Friday night about six. About seven thirty my friend from the bank called and asked to come over. When she got there she was concerned about how I looked. I explained what had happened, and she thought it was not only funny, but was neat. She said it was the first time she’d seen me in makeup and that I really looked nice.
She wanted to see me dressed up, and after trying to change the subject, I finally agreed and went into the bedroom to change. Nosey her, she followed me in and watched while I put the stuff back on. As I finished and turned back around, she let out a low whistle and wanted to know which store I’d bought it in — she wanted one, too. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me and told her so. She wanted to bet that she was right. She dared me to find out how people reacted to the new me. I don’t bet, but her idea was intriguing.
She’d just bought a new mini-cam video camera. The thing was only half the size of a hardback book. She volunteered to go into a store behind me and film reactions to what I was wearing, and let me watch it afterward. She even dared me to leave off the bra and panty set, wear only the dress and high-heels. She would loan me the heels, and she wanted me to accidentally ‘flash’ the men in the store. She showed me how to do it without being obvious.
That night I made love to myself longer, slower and more thoroughly. I thought about walking out in public without a bra or panties and I was wet and thoroughly enjoying myself. My bed had another wet spot, larger, this time.
I don’t normally wear high-heels, but these were only a little over two inches high and they were comfortable. The next morning, Saturday, she came over and helped me dress. Then she checked her camera and we got in her new Honda CR-V. She laughed at the men in the street as they watched me step up into the Honda. She even got a couple of seconds of their faces on video, and she showed them to me that night.
We drove to a grocery store and I agreed to buy nothing that required refrigeration because we wouldn’t be home until later. She double-checked my makeup and we got out of the car. She got out first, walked around and had the camera mostly hidden while she filmed the area as I got out of her CR-V.
I walked into tuzla otele gelen escort the store, scared almost speechless, but feeling inwardly thrilled at the adventure. My friend followed me by only twenty feet. As I walked, she said later, no one even noticed that she had her camera out and was filming. Every male cashier and box boy, every man standing in line, and even some of the female cashiers and clerks along with all of the male clerks stocking the shelves, stopped what they were doing and their eyes followed my every move.
I stopped to get a grocery cart, but had trouble pulling two carts apart. Four men rushed to help me. I thanked them and two clerks asked if they could help me find anything. As I walked past a stack of potato chip packages at the end of an aisle, I stopped and picked one from the flavor at the bottom of the table. As I bent over, I let my skirt ride up as my friend had shown me. My legs were together, but those guys still got a show. As I stood again, I bent over to place the package in the very bottom of the basket, and those guys got a view from two perspectives. The first was of my breasts and the second beneath my skirt at the edge of my cart. I was getting very wet from the male attention I was receiving — even the realization that the girls were watching me added to the dampness factor.
As I turned, my friend was grinning from ear to ear and flashed me the victory sign. I was starting to get a ‘high’ from the act, the acceptance by my audience, and the thrill of knowing that men liked what they saw. This had never before come remotely close to happening in my entire life. I felt power now, and liked it. I confidently strolled through the market aisles and whenever I saw a decent looking man I paused and looked at the shelves. Depending on my mood, I would then bend over for something on the bottom shelf, stand high on my toes and reach for something on a top shelf, and then after retrieving an item I would face the man and bend deeply over the edge of the cart to place the item in the bottom. Sometimes I would stay bent over while rearranging items in the cart, and let the guy get both a deep view off my cleavage, but also of the bared cheeks of my ass — with maybe a taste of mystery above the start of the cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t see how wet I was — or maybe I really hoped he could — I was confused by the attention.
We traveled the store and sometimes gave and filmed a show to the same guy more than once. Finally, tiring of the game, I waved my friend over and we pushed the grocery cart to the side of an aisle and left as quickly as we’d come into the store. After we were safely back in the CR-V and driving away, we broke into uproarious laughter at the episode. I took some tissue, turned away and wiped myself dry.
Next, we went to the mall, and innocently repeated the show for nearly every man walking through. I was now being more creative in my show. One time I raised my leg and rested my foot on a brick flower enclosure in the center of the mall. When I raised the foot, the bricks were so high that my knee raised the skirt above the level of my crotch and several men sitting along the side of the mall gazed appreciably and excitedly at my shaved mons.
The entire day was spent traveling and showing, and I was amazed at the attention I drew from men and women alike. My friend, while driving late that afternoon, asked if I didn’t think it would be fun to have all those guys lined up and wearing no clothes, dicks at attention, and us walking the line selecting who we wanted to be with. Eventually I had decreased the wetness factor between my legs, and could go longer without the tissue.
I was silent for awhile. Finally she asked why I hadn’t answered, and started to repeat the question. I was embarrassed, and stopped her. Finally, I apologized and slowly explained that I’d only ever seen a man’s penis in pictures — and only a few then. I told her that I dreamed about them and was fascinated by them, but I’d never actually seen one. She had trouble accepting this at first, and wanted to know if I’d ever slept with a man.
I told her that if I had, then I certainly would have gone looking for the penis — and probably studied it thoroughly. She didn’t believe I was a virgin. After a few more minutes of silence, she asked if I’d ever seen an x-rated movie. I told her no.
Now, she had an idea, she was going home and then we’d drive over to my apartment. I had not idea what her ‘idea’ was. When we got there, she ran inside for just a minute and ran back carrying a black plastic bag that she tossed into the rear seat.
When we finally got home, I told her to make herself home and I’d be right back. It was after eight, and I wasn’t going back outside tonight. I carefully removed my clothing, folded them and put them away. Then I put on only my long white terry cloth robe and returned to the living room. I asked if she was hungry and she assured me that she was — we hadn’t eaten all day.
I fixed some sandwiches and decapped a couple of cokes and returned. She was sitting on the couch with the TV on and a remote control in her hand — talk about a couch potato? When I’d set the stuff down and sat at the other end of the couch, She turned and asked if I wanted to watch a movie.
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