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Sex Story

Looking back over the years I realise that I have been a very lucky man indeed. I have had the most wonderful wife who has been my companion through thick and thin, and this is my way of paying tribute to her, i.e. telling the whole world about her, although I have changed the real names of everyone I mention for obvious reasons.

Patricia used to be a Dance Teacher, very highly qualified, and taught Ballet, Tap, Acrobatic, Modern and Old Time Ballroom Dancing. (I myself took out qualifications in ballroom dancing later on). We first met when she engaged me as her pianist to play for the children's classes.

As the pianist I had a view of her which her pupils did not (I refer now to the ballet and tap classes), and although the pupils wore short tunics in class she, herself, more often used to wear her ordinary day-to-day clothes, and usually I was treated to the most enjoyable view from my position behind her; such as when she demonstrated an arabesque to the class, whereby she balanced on one leg with the other one stretched out in the air behind her - a cock-rousing view of stockings and suspenders and the gusset of her knickers! It was even more exciting on one occasion when she wore a pair of French knickers which I had given her for Christmas! (We had begun to give each other gifts even though there was nothing between us as yet. The French knickers were part of a set of can-can skirt, knickers and matching bra, as can-can skirts were all the rage at the time.) I saw everything, for, like most dancers, she kept herself shaved down there.

It was after this display (of which she really must have been aware,) that I began to be a little bolder and at the end of this session when I would normally have just said "Goodnight" I ventured a kiss on the cheek. This peck grew each time we parted until I was giving her a real kiss, each time becoming stronger and going that little bit further, until I was fondling her. This fondling grew into groping, as you can imagine, and never did she object, even when I went so far as to buy her a pair of crutchless knickers and dared her to wear them at her next ballet class. She did! I saw everything, and she knew it!

I based the character Stella on her when I wrote a story called "Stella the Dance Teacher". Most of this story was fantasy, although she really was invited to be a dance partner for one evening at one of her pupil's Works Dinner Dance. (This was quite some time before we became engaged and not long before I took her virginity.) Evidently his own wife had fallen down badly and was in hospital with two suspected broken ankles, and so he had no partner for the evening. He actually offered to pay her a fee, but she refused point blank and said that the night out would be sufficient payment in itself. And, as she said to me at the time, it could even help with publicity about her dancing school.

She told me part of the story the next evening when I asked if she had enjoyed her night out, and she replied that she had really enjoyed it, and even asked me, jokingly, if it had made me jealous when she told me that he had kissed her goodnight. What happened, she said, was that at the end of the last waltz they had remained standing together and it had seemed a most natural thing to do for him to kiss her to say thank you for a wonderful evening.

She told me much later, though, when we were having a really heavy petting session and were exchanging all sorts of confidences, that he then offered her a nightcap in appreciation and had taken her to his home in a taxi. Only later did he call for a taxi to take her to her own home.

I have since discovered, and this I only found out after we were married and the occasion had been triggered by her seeing a look-alike on TV, that in the taxi he not only put his arm round her, but fondled her breasts outside her dress without any sign of rejection on her part. When they got into the house he had evidently offered her more to drink, but she had refused all except a small sherry. But, she then confessed, she had raised no objections when he started to kiss her and even push down the top of her dance dress. (I only found out later, when she actually wore the same dress on the occasion of our attending a Civic Ball together, that the dress was strapless and backless, and its only visible means of support seemed to be the under-wired bodice.)

She later also confessed to me that she had enjoyed his fondling and went along with him, and when he started to raise her dress at the back, whilst they were standing and kissing, until he reached her knickers (she told me this one night whilst we were making love) she had made no move to stop him when he started to slide them down. (She also confessed that she had really enjoyed him doing it at the time.) In fact, she told me, she actually left them behind when she left as a souvenir for him. She claimed, though, that she was a virgin at the beginning of the evening, and also at the end when they parted company! I had to believe her, of course.

Now, we were both aware of the dangers of sex before marriage as we did not want to harm her dancing career, and so we were extremely careful when fucking that I withdrew before I ejaculated. Neither of us liked condoms (or French Letters as they were called then), and so most of our sex took the form of "69". It was at the end of a particularly long session when she had had two Ballroom private lessons, plus a Ballet class plus a Tap class, that she ended up sweating, and after seeing the last pupils out of the studio she was as eager as I was to get undressed and sixty-nine on the floor. I was lapping away at her wet, sweaty pussy when I felt her mouth suddenly tighten on my cock and my own mouth filled with a hot salty liquid.

She immediately broke away and cried out how sorry she was, almost crying as she confessed to peeing in her excitement. But I had enjoyed the sensation and even the taste, and told her I wanted to get back to her pussy and said that she could finish the pee - we could always mop the mess up off the floor afterwards! This is what started me out along this path. Patricia eventually tried receiving mine and we never looked back.

It was shortly after that we got engaged and finally married.

As you can imagine, Patricia and I have had a very full sex life, but I am afraid that was in the past. When she started her menopause she hardly noticed any changes, but I did. Her sex-drive diminished and became almost non-existent. Since then I have had to make every move and she just accepts it but does not enjoy it, which tends to make me feel inadequate.

This is probably the reason why I turned to writing stories and searched the Internet for similar ones. That was when I found Literotica.

Prior to her "change", though, we really did enjoy sex to the full. I think I said, too, how we used to enjoy "69" long before we got engaged and how she inadvertently allowed some pee to flow into my mouth.

Later on this became the norm whenever we were in that position. In fact, we usually had to strip off so as not to soak any clothing. This used to take place in her studio, and also meant that we had to be sure that everyone had gone home before we started anything. We both got used to controlling our flows so that it did not cause the other one to gag due to peeing at too fast a rate. We were nearly caught once, though, when a parent came back to see if she had left her scarf and Patricia called through the dressing room door that she was changing and would be out shortly!

To show how far we went in these adventures, too, there was one occasion in particular that I remember. Between classes we usually had a break of about five minutes while we had a cup of tea or coffee. We had been trying China tea, I remember, and so when Patricia brought me a warm cup of amber liquid I naturally thought it was this China tea. It was not! It was her pee! Anyway, apart from laughing at how I had been fooled I toasted her health and drank it right down!

We also fulfilled our sex life in other ways. If we were to go out for a birthday or an anniversary (and there are a number of occasions when you can think of some kind of an anniversary, like when we first met, or when we got engaged, and so on) she very rarely wore any knickers or bra. In winter she used to wear a coat of course, although once the car was warmed up she would take it off again, and we would find a nice quiet spot for some play. (We had one or two places which we regularly used to park.) In summer we had to be careful owing to it still being daylight, but we always managed to find somewhere quite secluded. There was one occasion, though, when we were going at it hammer and tongs in the back seat when we became aware of someone hovering outside. We quickly broke apart, but on seeing another couple outside out car in a tight clinch, we were not sure whether or not we had been spied upon. However, we shrugged it off, and silently agreeing that had this other couple been watching us it was evident from their own activity that there was no way they were going to take any offence.

If we ever went to the cinema she would dress similarly. The only things she ever wore then beneath her dress (never trousers) were hold-up stockings. These occasions are now just a memory to me. If I ever try to remind her of how she used to dress for me she just says something like, "Happy Days. Gone forever, I am afraid." And then she reminds me that she is a little older now. At around the age of 30 I was fortunate enough to get a headship in a primary school in Berkshire. Housing was a difficulty, and we had to start with a council flat whilst we looked for suitable accommodation. Then we found that there was an old pub which had just had its licence used to build a newer one by the brewery, and a developer was renovating it into a private house. It suited us no end. Spacious, big garden, cellar, lots of rooms including a very large room attached to the main building, like an outhouse yet still attached, which the pub had used as a storage.

I was just getting into photography at the time, and so the cellar became my dark-room, and the large side-room became a studio. I say studio, because it was long and I was able to erect some background whenever I wanted to, so as it make into whatever I chose. It also doubled as a dancing studio for Patricia, and we erected mirrors along the walls for the dancing, which also helped with the lighting for the photography.

I liked doing portraits, actually, and although I was a Headmaster I began to get a reputation as well for people to come for passport photos, or portraits to send to families or whatever. Now, with a sex-life like mine, it also became a studio for naughtier things, to put it mildly. Patricia and I would pose for one another, and often together using a self-timer, and I had a selection of Patricia in various costumes and stripping until she was showing as much as she could. And she took similar photographs of me.

One advantage of living in Berkshire was that Patricia's' younger sister (she was eighteen years younger than Patricia with a brother in between) was at a Stage School in Sussex, and we were able to visit her from time to time. But eventually on reaching the age of eighteen she was able to leave the school and, as we were so close to London, she came to stay with us so that she could attend auditions. One of the things she had learnt was she needed a portfolio, and had some professional photos taken for that purpose. When I saw them she asked me if I could expand on them and save the high fees she had to pay. So, naturally, I did so, and as her brother-in-law she was quite open about suggesting such as "should I show a little more leg for this one?" and other similar remarks. What I did not realise straight away was that she had evidently developed a "crush" on me, and as an eighteen-year old who had been cooped up in an all-girls school she had pent-up frustrations which needed to come out. Anyway, I took the pictures, none of which showed more than one would have shown to a maiden aunt, although there were two when she wore what was, for the times, a revealing bikini. By today's standards it would now be looked at as a huge "cover-up". She did attend one or two auditions, but seemed to get nowhere at first.

She did eventually get fixed up with a repertory company, but that was later on. I remember, though, that one day she had gone for an audition and had said she would stay in London overnight, as she would be having another one on the following day. So Patricia and I took the opportunity to have another "studio" session, involving both of us completely stripped off. It was only when we came out of the studio to go into the lounge (still both naked) that we saw with a bit of a shock that Pippa had come home unexpectedly and we were both glaringly nude! Patricia was quite nonchalant about the whole thing -after all they were sisters - but I felt a little embarrassed and slipped back again to me myself decent again. When I came back into the room, though, both girls were laughing. Patricia was still naked, and seemed not in the least embarrassed, but as I came in again she told me that Pippa was quite blasé about it all.

"Look," she said to me, "You are family, aren't you? And it is possibly time for my little sister to understand that there is a difference between a man and a woman, after the seclusion she has had until now."

Pippa nodded agreement, and then dropped the bombshell. "So perhaps we can continue with my portfolio, but with poses similar to those that Patricia was making for you when I peeped into the studio and neither of you had noticed!" she said.

I was taken aback a little, but Patricia was more composed." Like I said," she added, "We are all family together. As long as you go no further than photographs I do not see what harm there can be."

"Now?" asked Pippa. "Then perhaps I can take some of the less daring ones with me the day after tomorrow."

She then explained that tomorrow's auditions had been postponed, which was why she was home when she was not expected. I looked at Patricia, and then agreed.

So once more we went into the studio, Patricia still starkers, and Pippa asked me how I wanted her to pose to begin with. But it was Patricia who prompted me and told me that when I had been taking photographs of her I, too, had been nude. Pippa agreed, with a wicked grin on her face, and said, "After all, if I am going to show you mine, it is only fair that you should show me yours!"

To cut the story short, then we gradually had Pippa posing, less clothing on her each time, until she took off her bra. Naturally I gaped at them, and Pippa, with a tinkle of a laugh said, "It's all right. You are not the first man to see me like this!" Then, with a quick action her knickers followed suit as she went on, "Or like this!" Patricia and I looked at her in some slight wonderment, but she laughed and told us that the school doctor was a man, and that the girls had all grown used to him seeing them naked.

Her poses were quite innocuous, though, other than the fact that she was naked." Another thing," she said. "If I am going to succeed on the stage this will not be the last time I have to show myself off to an audience!" Anyway, the session ended without any misbehaviour from any of us, and next day I developed and printed the pictures which we felt would be best suited for her portfolio.

About a week later and Pippa had still not succeeded at any of her auditions, she confessed to me (being out of Patricia's hearing) that she had been offered a job as a hostess in a club, but had decided to turn it down, as she had a very good idea what would really be expected of her.

"But perhaps I could pretend to be one for once, so after you and Patricia settle down after dinner for a quiet drink, perhaps I should dress up and serve you as if you were in a night club. What do you think?"

"If it would make you happy, anything goes in this house as you know," I told her. We agreed to keep it as our little secret for the time being, and so, once dinner was over and I had washed the dishes (no dishwashers in those days) Patricia retired into the lounge and switched on the TV, whilst Pippa excused herself and said she was going to her room. Once I had finished I went to join Patricia in the lounge, and asked her if she fancied a drink. When she replied yes I rang a little bell Pippa had given me, much to Patricia's surprise, but she was even more so when Pippa immediately appeared.

But it was her mode of dress which surprised us both. She had put on a white blouse, fairly see-through, and underneath which her breasts were free, with no bra. Her skirt (and remember that mini-skirts had not been invented in those days) was one of her school ones, which she had rolled at the waist in order to shorten it to mid-thigh. She also wore stockings - black ones, with suspenders which were fully on view owing to the brevity of the skirt! Patricia was highly amused, but when I tried to slide my hand along the back of Pippa's leg I was rebuffed in no uncertain terms.

Then she laughed, and said "I'm not that kind of a hostess. At least, I'm not pretending to be!"

Had this been a fictional story which I had written for Literotica I would have written in great detail about how I fucked Pippa. I did not. I respected her age, and the fact that she was Patricia's sister both helped me to keep my head about it, even though she was giving me the "come-on" most of the time.

Anyway, a week or so later she got the part of Dick Whittington's cat in panto in Torquay, and from there she moved into rep. Next time we saw her she had grown up, but I shall leave my story here for now.