Enchanted_ Erotic Bedtime Stories For Woman Part 11

Slowly his laughter died down, and he gave me a fatherly smile. Just as I had feared, he was about to placate me with one of our own dull experiences. I placed my hand on his lips.

"Before you answer my request, hear me out," I entreated. "I know you love me and I am convinced of your respect. Because of these two things (things that I deeply value), I believe I must be eliminated from the compilation of memories from which you will choose. I am not looking for a story of romance or love. I want only to hear of your most memorable, unusual and exciting s.e.xual encounter with a woman- no matter how shocking, horrifying or embarra.s.sing. All I ask is that you truly pick out the very best incident you can remember, and that you do not play it down to spare my feelings."

I thought I knew the meaning behind every expression that marked my husband's handsome features, but I had never before seen that particular look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

I realized then that he did, in fact, have such a memory. It was in his mind at that very moment! My heart began to beat faster. I must know it! Real tears flooded my eyes this time as I grasped his hands urgently.

"I know it's an odd request, but I really want to know about it," I told him. Truly, the only other hope I had of gaining knowledge about such matters would have been for me to turn to a total stranger, and I was not quite that dissatisfied with my situation yet!

My husband ultimately gave in, of course, but I vow, it was more difficult than the time I wanted that terribly expensive diamond bracelet!

He was genuinely uncomfortable when he at last began to relate the incident to me. It was an experience that he had in his youth, many years ago. As he reluctantly described the affair to me, there was no doubt that my husband told the truth, for the expression on his face combined with the slight quaver in his voice thoroughly convinced me of the authenticity of all he said. And luckily, the incident did not repulse me. It was something I had never tried before, something I a.s.sumed my husband was not interested in, but then, it wasn't exactly something a man would be comfortable suggesting to a lady like me. How odd that the mere thought of it should send thrills of excitement through me! Yes, this had been a wise course to take. I now knew whose shoes I would borrow to escape my reality and sample the delights of a vastly different existence.

I asked my husband many questions. After a while, and especially once he saw that I was not hurt or disgusted, he became more comfortable. He answered all of my questions quite satisfactorily. He told me everything he knew about the woman, though it was limited since he had only seen her out that one time. How sad the boundaries can be for those women! I could almost have been jealous of her, except that, even after giving my husband such unforgettable pleasure, she had not managed to interest him in knowing her further.

My husband knew nothing of my reasons for my bizarre request, and I kept them intentionally from him. I wanted everything to be a wonderful surprise.

I prepared for days. And even when all was arranged to the minutest detail I repeatedly delayed, for I confess that I was exceedingly nervous.

And then, one day, I was ready. It happened quite accidentally really. Out of curiosity, I had slipped on the blond wig I had purchased for this occasion and glanced at myself in the mirror. My heart instantly began to race. I actually had b.u.t.terflies fluttering wildly in my stomach! Yes, I was most certainly ready.

I slowly and carefully applied the new makeup I had purchased. First, I spread the dark, seductive charcoal color around my eyes, which made them look much larger than they are. Then came the lipstick. It had been at least ten years since I had worn lipstick, but I was certain that I had never worn that particular shade of red. I couldn't stop myself from giggling as I applied it to my lips. I felt a little like a child, dressing up in someone else's clothes.

Next there were the stockings. It is hard to believe that women had to contend with those before pantyhose came along. But what a delightful feeling when you wear them without panties! Being exposed to the air like that. Nice. Again I couldn't suppress a giggle. I hoped I wasn't going to make a fool of myself by laughing through the entire event.

A drink would have helped, but I was determined to wait until the last minute and then have only one. I did not want to get tipsy, after all. I wanted all my senses to be acutely aware so that I would feel every single sensation as it came over me.

Once I had put on the wig, makeup and stockings, I was finished. It felt like a part of me was missing, for I was never the sort that was comfortable without clothing, but there was no turning back now.

Having that much decided, I stood wide-eyed before the mirror. The woman that stared back at me looked strangely vulnerable. She was beautiful, with that poignant, forlorn beauty that belongs to those women who humbly present themselves on lace and silken platters, dressing up as best they can, in the hopes that this will bring them love, fame, money or happiness. And I thought to myself, Why, any woman can do this. It's as easy as buying a costume! Why, any woman can do this. It's as easy as buying a costume! My bright-red lips smiled back at me. My bright-red lips smiled back at me.

Suddenly I remembered one last thing. I fished through the makeup until I located a brown liner pencil. Then, very carefully, I drew a cute little mole right above my lip. There. Perfect! I allowed myself one more nervous giggle.

As usual, my husband came home right on time. I hid myself in the shadows of our dining room until I should decide the moment was right. My heart pounded ridiculously in my breast. Was it my very own, familiar husband I was hiding from? He came through the front door, as always, calling my name. But on this occasion I didn't answer him. I wanted every single detail of this evening to be different, memorable.

He called out my name a second time. I heard him ascend the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. There was a shuffling sound upstairs as he called for me again, and then yet again. My heart was hammering painfully. I was almost afraid. It was a similar feeling to the one I had when playing hide and seek as a child.

I heard his footsteps on the stairs, this time descending. There was concern now present in his voice as he walked into the kitchen and again called out my name. Finally I stood up and slipped quietly into the living room. I stood inconspicuously alongside one wall in the large room.

In a few minutes he came into the living room and paused, scratching his head. I stood perfectly quiet and still as I watched him. After a moment he felt my presence. He turned his head precisely to where I stood frozen against the wall. Shock overtook his countenance. At first he did not even appear to recognize me.

I did not laugh, or even smile, for that matter. A new emotion was coming over me, stifling my earlier urges to giggle. I could hardly breathe while my husband stood gaping at me. But at last his confusion disa.s.sembled, and in both our eyes there was recognition. He knew me. And I knew him. He realized what I wanted him to do, and I, of course, had my script memorized.

He didn't say a word as he slowly walked toward me. His eyes traveled over me, missing nothing. A smile began to form upon his lips, but then just as quickly disappeared. As we stared into each other's eyes he was suddenly very serious.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked softly.

This almost brought tears to my eyes, but I quickly blinked them back. His love and concern were what I lived for, but tonight I wanted something else from him. We would go back to that afterwards. I resisted the urge to rush into his arms and tell him how much I loved him.

Instead I jerked my chin up haughtily and a.s.sumed an indifferent tone. "That's up to you," I replied, holding his gaze, and adding slickly, "And depends on how much money you have." It did not sound like my voice that was speaking.

"I've got plenty of money," he countered, playing along coolly. "And I heard you're the woman who will give me what I want."

"Why don't you tell me what you want, and then I'll tell you if I can help you or not," I said evenly.

"You know what I want," he replied simply. "It's what every man wants when he comes to you. They say it's your specialty."

"Yes," I confessed, trembling slightly. "I think I do know what you want."

"Let's not waste any more time then," he said, removing his clothes.

I paused for a moment, watching him undress. I could see the evidence of his excitement in his pants. I could not remember the last time I saw that. As I stared at him, I struggled for every breath, my heart raced so. At last he stood naked before me. He was fully aroused.

"Where would you like me?" I asked him, getting right down to business. That's what this was supposed to be to me, after all.

He looked around our living room like he was seeing it for the first time. Finally he pointed to a small, square ottoman, the kind used for resting one's feet. "Bend over that."

I sauntered by him to comply with his direction. As I pa.s.sed him I handed him a small tube of lubricant. "For what you want, you'll need this," I said, trying desperately to appear casual. I did not like to wander from the original script too much, but I knew I would need something to ease the discomfort I was sure to experience with my first time.

I bent over the ottoman in the wanton manner I imagined that other woman having done, based on the information my husband had provided. In truth, I had practiced the position a number of times when I was alone, trying out various places throughout our living room, and each time it had left me trembling and expectant to be sprawled out in such a manner. My husband, meanwhile, was preparing himself with the lubricant I had given him. I waited, reveling in the strange sensations that accompanied the full exposure my position presented of me. I wondered what that other woman had felt on that memorable night so long ago. As for me, I had never been so strangely excited before.

Suddenly I felt my husband near me. He pushed me forward slightly, maneuvering me, I knew, so that I was in the exact position that she had been in. When I was settled like he wanted, my head and forearms rested on the floor, and my knees rested on the ottoman, spread wide apart. In this position my hips were forced impossibly high into the air and opened very wide.

Terror and manic excitement made me light-headed, giving me a dreamlike impression of those first few moments. But when I felt his hands grasping my hips in readiness for what was coming, I suddenly became acutely aware of everything around me. It seemed that all my senses were heightened, so that every detail appeared magnified and distinct.

I held my breath as I felt my husband's hardness pressing against my nether opening. My hips instinctively contracted, wanting to close and move forward to escape him. But both my position and his grasp on my hips would allow no such escape, and so I was obliged to remain still as he forced himself into me. In spite of my good intentions, I cried out.

My husband immediately stopped. He did not withdraw, but he held himself perfectly still where he was. There were tears of disappointment in my eyes. I had not expected that first, stinging pain.

But in the very next moment the sting began to subside. Even so, it was still terribly uncomfortable. Notwithstanding the pain and discomfort, I was still amazingly aroused. And I was far from ready to give up on the experience.

I can't stop now, I thought. I thought. I have come too far. Besides, if she could do it, I can too! I have come too far. Besides, if she could do it, I can too!

With renewed determination, I arched my back, pus.h.i.+ng my hips upward and opening myself further to my husband. He groaned when I did this, and his fingers dug into my flesh. He advanced very slowly, carefully urging himself into me, and I could tell from his groans that he was using every bit of restraint he possessed to go slowly. Even so, I had to bite my lip to avoid crying out again.

But at last he was fully inside me. The combination of shock, excitement, and discomfort was like nothing I had ever experienced before. As I became accustomed to the discomfort, I almost felt disappointment, so exquisite had that aspect of the intimacy been for me.

He withdrew gradually and then once again pushed himself forward slowly. He was being very careful and gentle because it was me. But I did not want to be me tonight. I wanted to be her. If I were really going to feel what she felt, all this tenderness would have to go.

"Do you like it?" I asked my husband, as he continued to move in and out of me slowly.

"Yes," he moaned.

"Do you like mine as much as you liked hers?" I pressed.

"Better!"

I was getting used to him now. It was still terribly difficult but, in an odd way, that added to the excitement. I began to move my hips, clenching and unclenching them as I remembered him describing her as having done. "Is this the way she moved?" I purred, as my hips awkwardly learned the rhythm.

"Yes!"

"She liked it hard and fast, didn't she?" I continued, remembering what he had told me.

"Yes, she liked it hard and fast," he repeated in a low voice that was barely perceptible.

"Give it to me like that, too," I ordered. "I want it hard and fast!"

"Honey," he groaned. "I don't want to hurt you." But he increased his pace.

"You didn't care if you hurt her," I argued. I worked my hips faster.

"She was different," he said, barely aware of what he was saying.

"Pretend that I am her," I goaded. And all at once I began to say the things that she had said to him, exactly as I remembered him telling me.

"Harder," I cried, pumping my hips furiously, ma.s.saging him within me. "Yes, that's better...now you're getting your money's worth..." I was beyond the point where I cared what I did or how I appeared. It was as if I really was that other woman, working as hard as I could to please a total stranger for money. And my husband was as lost as I was. He pounded himself into me with a violence I had never known he possessed. I shamelessly reached between my legs and caressed myself.

"What am I?" I asked him suddenly, needing to hear the words.

"What?" he was nearly oblivious of his surroundings.

"Tell me what I am," I pleaded.

"You're my wife...sweetheart...my adorable wife," he was quickly becoming incoherent.

"No!" I rubbed myself more vigorously. I couldn't stop myself. "Tell me I am what she was," I whispered.

He groaned.

"Now...please," I begged, still clenching and unclenching myself around him as he moved in and out of me. He was panting noisily. It occurred to me that, even with so little practice, I was already as good, or better, than she had been at this.

"Wh.o.r.e" he muttered. And with that he let out a thunderous yell, thrusting himself all the way in to the base. I felt him quivering inside me. "Oh, you're such a sweet little wh.o.r.e!"

I closed my eyes and shuddered as one pleasurable wave after another rippled through me. And in that split second I felt the utter abandon and exquisite pleasure of being a wanton wh.o.r.e, but without any of the remorse or loneliness that she would likely have felt afterward.

Later, my husband clung to me even in his sleep, while I- too exhilarated to rest- recalled the night's events in minute detail. If I had not felt the telltale tenderness in my backside, I would not have believed I had actually done it. And as for my husband, I had never seen him so thoroughly shocked. But that was not his only response, and afterward, when he had taken me in his arms, he was trembling as violently as I was.

A smile of triumph spread over my lips as I snuggled against my husband's warm body. His arms instinctively tightened around me. I had managed to step outside the boundaries that for so long defined my existence, and with very pleasant results. In fact, one could say it was a complete success. Not only had I discovered a new pleasure, but in the process, I had managed to collect for myself a great boon from my husband's past. For there was no doubt in my mind that this new memory my husband and I had just created together replaced forever, in his mind, that other memory of so long ago.

And really, hadn't it been incredibly easy? Indeed, those women have nothing on any of us! Why, any lady can do what she does. It is simply a matter of changing one's appearance, just as the proverbial wolf who dons the sheep's clothing or, I suppose in this case, you might say the sheep who dons the wolves' clothing!

I shall most definitely take on the alluring role again. But I must remember to tread carefully...lest I lose my way back!

The Ugly Duckling

Once upon a time there lived a husband and wife who had five daughters. The four older daughters were exceptionally beautiful, but the youngest daughter was thought by comparison to be gangly and awkward, with large bones and features that were less than perfect. Because of this, she was continually picked on by her sisters, and even her parents did little to conceal their disapproval of her, openly lamenting their ill luck in having such a child and wondering whether she would ever amount to anything. They all criticized the poor girl incessantly, saying such things as, "Perhaps if you ate less, you would be more pet.i.te," though she ate no more than any of the others, or, "If you rub lemons in your hair it would not be such a dull color." In truth, the unfortunate child went to bed hungry many a night and rubbed lemon after lemon into her hair, but nothing she did seemed to matter; there was always one thing or another that they would find wrong with her.

The townspeople were no different from her family; they insulted and criticized the youngest and plainest sister and other girls like her. Since her older sisters were thought to be so much more beautiful by comparison, the youngest sister soon came to be known to everyone as "the ugly duckling."

As the girls grew up, the four oldest daughters grew more and more beautiful. And as they grew more beautiful, they also grew more arrogant and insensitive. But the ugly duckling became more kind and generous with every day, so that, in spite of their constant mistreatment of her, each of her sisters preferred her company to any of the others'.

Soon the girls grew into women.

Now, the eldest of the five sisters was quite a striking woman, and thought to herself, "Why should I continue my education when I can earn a better living by simply letting men look upon my beauty?" For, indeed, in those days women could earn startling sums of money for displaying their beauty openly and explicitly to men who valued women according to that one quality. And so the eldest daughter went into the world with only that one a.s.set to make her fortune.

The second-eldest sister was also very beautiful, and thought to herself, "Why should I have to do anything at all when men find me so attractive that they are quite willing to do everything for me?" And so she went out into the world with the viewpoint of making her fortune through the generosity of her many male admirers.

The third-eldest sister never had the opportunity to formulate a plan of any kind, for destiny intervened, and she was married to the young man whose child she found herself carrying.

The fourth sister thought, "Of what use are men to me when I am more beautiful than all three of my older sisters put together?" And she resolved to make a larger fortune than her other sisters without having to demean herself before men as they did. Having much confidence in her beauty, she set out to reach the highest achievement offered beautiful women of her time, which was to be a professional model of fas.h.i.+on and beauty.

Now the youngest sister, who was the ugly duckling, had no illusions about making her way in the world by means of her appearance, and so she perceived that she would be best served by continuing her education. She found a small university in the country, far away from the cruel prejudices of her hometown. Keeping to herself, she took a small cottage near the school campus and began her new life.

The ugly duckling immediately took to college life. She enjoyed her studies immensely and was strengthened by her growing knowledge of herself and the world around her. The people she chose to a.s.sociate with did not seem to notice so very much that she was not beautiful, for they valued the many other qualities that she possessed. Without the constant reminders of her lack of perfect beauty, she slowly began to gain confidence in herself. She was repeatedly surprised by the continual flow of little joys in her life, and was happier than she had ever thought it possible for her to be.

One spring afternoon, as the ugly duckling rested languidly under the shade of a large tree in her yard, reading a book, there suddenly appeared a dark shadow directly above her. She looked up and beheld the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes upon.

He was well formed and dark, and stood smiling down at her. Half thinking the apparition to be a figment of her imagination (perhaps a character out of the romantic story she had been reading) she at first only stared mutely at him. Seeing her startled expression, the young man spoke to her in a friendly tone, explaining that he was merely pa.s.sing through on his way to a nearby pond for an afternoon swim. Apparently the only way to reach the obscure little pond was by trespa.s.sing through the ugly duckling's yard!

The ugly duckling recognized the handsome young man as a fellow student in the same school that she attended. She secretly felt that she would enjoy seeing him on warm summer days as he made his way to the pond for an afternoon swim. Perhaps a bit too warmly, she informed him that he was perfectly welcome to cross her yard as often as he liked.

But the handsome young man did not immediately leave her upon gaining her consent, lingering instead to ask her about the book she was reading, her cla.s.ses at the university, and other matters about herself that no man had ever asked her about before.

The ugly duckling's eyes shone with happiness as she chatted with her new friend, but suddenly the images of her sisters flashed before her and she remembered that she was ugly. At once she felt ashamed to have any man look upon her, and so, making up an excuse, she abruptly escaped into her cottage, where she watched from a small window as the young man left in the direction of the pond. He was energetic and healthy, with large arms and shoulders, and she wished for the thousandth time that she was beautiful like her sisters.

The days grew warmer and before long the trees and flowers were in full bloom. The young man now pa.s.sed through the ugly duckling's yard nearly every day on his way to the pond beyond. And each time he pa.s.sed he would stop and speak to her. Slowly she got over her self-consciousness around him, even looking forward to his visits, and they got to know each other better. Sometimes they would pa.s.s each other at the university, and he would thrill her by calling out to her.

One day the handsome young man asked the ugly duckling to join him at the pond. She abruptly declined, but from that day forward she felt a strange pull towards the pond, and often found herself wondering what the water was like, and how it would feel to splash around in it with her handsome friend.

And so it went, until one unusually warm summer morning, when the ugly duckling crept out of her bed very early and slipped down to the pond in her nightdress. She told herself she only wanted to look at the pond, but behold, it was more beautiful than she had imagined it. She glanced around guiltily. Certainly no one would be around at this hour of the morning. She would just slip into the cool water for a moment and then go back to her cottage. Before she could stop herself, her nightgown was shed and she was in the water.

The ugly duckling splashed the water all around her as she swam about happily. The water felt like silk on her skin. When she got tired of swimming she floated about, gazing up at the soft, hazy clouds that hovered in the blue summer sky. Occupied in this way, she completely forgot about the time.

The ugly duckling was not aware of his approach until she heard the huge splash as he jumped in the water. She stood perfectly still, frozen in horror as she waited for him to surface. She dearly hoped he didn't have his eyes open under the water, for she was ashamed to have him look at her body. And how on earth was she going to get out of the pond and put her nightgown back on?

Finally his head and arms bounced up to the surface. There was a huge smile on his beautiful face.

"I figured you for a natural girl, but I never dreamed you'd have the nerve," he said cheerfully.

So he had opened his eyes under the water! She was so horrified and embarra.s.sed that tears came to her eyes. He was slowly swimming closer to her. She wanted to ask him to turn the other way so that she could get out of the water, but she was afraid of the sound she would make if she were to try and speak.