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It was a muggy summer evening; we girls were enjoying a pleasant after dinner drink on the balcony of a rather smart hotel overlooking the river Dart. Conversation was jovial and took the usual saucy turn amid our giggling and laughter. We were in full flow, when a very elegant looking lady, complete with a large gin & tonic approached us and asked if she could join us.
An Introduction to Able Seaman Miller.
I have to admit at this point, she was somewhat more than a little tiddly. A smile all round indicated that no one objected. Her hat, she had obviously been at some sort of function, was decidedly askew. She took her place among us before raising her glass to indicate to the waiter that she wanted attention. None of the rest of us had that sort of confidence.
“A round of drinks, on my account young man.”
“Quite so madam,” the young waiter acknowledged.
Once all was settled, the lady introduced herself.
“My name is (with my formal title) Lady Virginia Frances Nicasov-Kwic.”
That was a surprise, a real ‘Lady’, wanting to join our ‘elite’ group. But hey ho, we are all girls together aren’t we? And what a name, there was promise of a few stories there!
“Rather an unusual name dear.” I suggested.
“Which part of it?” She sipped her G & T
“Well, all of it, why not introduce yourself?”
“OK.” She cleared her throat. “Of course, at prep school I was simply Virginia Frances Bellend. You know how children shorten names, I was inevitabluble nick named Virgin Fanny!”
We giggled at the pronunciation of inevitably; clearly she was not on her first g & t!
“When I moved to public school, I won’t say which one, Virgin Fanny followed me. I can reassure you, the Fanny may have remained for all the years of my education. In my pleasure, the Virgin was lost along with my virginity. That however may be a story for another time.”
We nodded, spell bound.
“As for my surname… what can I say? I was so fortunate to meet and marry, the then Captain, and now after various promotions, Vice Admiral Sir Raymond ‘Ripper’ Nicasov-Kwic probably the only guy I could hope to meet that would equal my appetite for sex.”
“A typical sailor, when he was home, and as he progressed it was more and more, I usually had sufficient sex to keep my vagina adequately lubricated with the best cream.”
The temptation for me was also in the naval life. As an admiral, living in ‘quarters’ we had ‘staff’, watch keeper, stewards, and defaulters, the task of attending us, supplementing our regular civilian staff for chores and dinner help when needed.
Strictly speaking, it was considered inappropriate for Senior Officer’s wives to fraternise with other ranks. That of course didn’t take account of the needs of the woman, the temptation presented by the varied selection of presentable young sailors or even the ‘harmless’ flirting. All of which were inclined to undermine the division of ‘status’ which primarily existed in the ‘public face’.
Sailors, of every rank and nationality travel the world enjoying the cultures throughout. Social occasions abound and I am sure there are few serving men who don’t enjoy the flavours of the ports of call. Their wives of course, twiddle their fingers and dispel the boredom in whatever manner they choose.
Personally, I enjoy my gin, and whatever other diversion I can think of some are more than a little naughty. And, I do have some very naughty thoughts. Like for instance sailors, also called seamen, and do I ever, ever, ever love semen?
My old man, ‘The Old Man’ as his officer colleagues called him when they weren’t using his less respectful nick name , ‘Ripper’, is, how should one say this, well blessed or more candidly, he has, in the vernacular, a big dick.
When he was home, and was not otherwise occupied, I was very well serviced. Trust me, there is little more satisfying than good fornication with a big penis and I was…satisfied…regularly.
My problem reared its head when Ripper wasn’t available to provide the service. Not necessarily when he was aboard, sometimes he had to work in the MOD in London for weeks at a time. I call it a problem, but it wasn’t really a problem, I was just randy and in need of satisfaction.
It wasn’t of course a ‘one off’ situation and I cannot believe that Ripper thought for one moment that I didn’t satisfy my urges when he was absent. There have been a number of sailors who really should have been grateful to Ripper for their privileges.
I really did let my hair down at times. When the term defaulters was used in my hearing, my blood raced, bits of me, use your imagination, became engorged, and lust filled my heart.
Defaulters were the sinners, perpetrators of minor misdemeanours, and they came to clean vehicles, do the garden, sometimes overnight so that there was a presence in the house.
Dusty was a particular favourite of mine, and at least twice every time Ripper was up at the MOD, Dusty was on defaulters, usually night watches. Able Seaman Miller, always minor punishments, poker oyna which both he and I thoroughly enjoyed. If you get my meaning.
I first met dusty one July evening; I was in a first floor room, gin and tonic in my hand this one having been preceded by several gin and tonics. It was a fairly normal evening and the events were not in the least unusual.
First, there was the rhythmic tread of a marching squad, then, the crunch of the gravel as the half dozen defaulters in the charge of a petty officer wheeled into the drive way and were brought to the halt at the gate to the servants quarters. (Back door to the kitchen actually)
“Miller” barked the Petty Officer.
“Aye” responded Miller
“This house will be safe under your watchful eye Miller for the next three nights. Everything you need you will find in the watch cabin.”
“Stand fast the rest. Miller fall out.”
Miller duly fell out, and was posted to his night watch, the remainder being marched off by the Petty Officer, their measured rhythmic crunching steps on the gravel fading until they no longer disturbed the evening quiet.
Miller glanced up to my window as he turned to take post. The watch keeper’s cabin was on the ground floor of the Admiralty Senior Officer’s quarters, at the back of the kitchen and the steward’s pantry.
Miller would be the only male on site after the day staff had left. It would be Miller’s duty to ensure my safety, the security of the building, and to provide incidental services such as supplying me with coffee or refreshments should I so desire.
The steward, Jenkins, provided a brief tour of the house and the kitchen, the cold store, coffee facilities and his night refreshments. The watch cabin was small, cosy and functional, containing a bed, table, chair, television and telephone connected to the base’s main switchboard. On the wall was a bell, with which the watch keeper could be summoned.
During the steward’s tour, Miller, in square rig but hat less was introduced to me.
“Madam, your defaulter for the next few nights, Able Seaman Miller.”
Miller came smartly to attention.
“What Do I call you Miller?”
“Dusty, Madam if you wish.”
“Dusty will do, I think every Miller in the navy is called Dusty, doesn’t need much imagination to know why does it?”
“No Madam.” Dusty smiled.
It was a very seductive smile I might add. They departed and all was quiet again. I lolled into my easy chair with a gin and switched on the radio, some classical concert somewhere, filled the air with swelling strings.
The heavy front door slammed shut and the keys rattled in the lock. The steward called goodnight and the backdoor closed noisily and again the sound of the keys then silence descended again and the music sparkled in the air.
These nights could become very boring, and even lonely, no-one but myself for company. I rang the bell. I knew it would take a few minutes for there to be any response.
There was a light tap at the door.
The door opened and Dusty stepped smartly in.
“Pot of coffee Dusty please?”
He disappeared once more to return after about a quarter of an hour bearing a silver salver with coffee, cream, sugar and crockery.
“Only one cup Dusty? You will need to get used to me, two cups at this time of night if you don’t mind. Deploy and secure another please.”
Again he disappeared, returning with the second cup.
“Thanks Dusty, now pour the coffee, you do drink coffee don’t you.”
“Yes m’am, thank you m’am.”
Obviously, Dusty had been made aware of his punishment duty as he was clearly in his Number1s. Immaculately pressed and brushed right down to well pressed bell bottom trousers complete with seven crisp horizontal creases.
“Take a seat Dusty, relax.”
He took a seat on the opposite side of the plush carpet from where I was seated on the brocade upholstered chaise.
“No Dusty, over here, I want to talk and I don’t wish to shout.”
He joined me.
“Is the house secure?”
“All locked up m’am.”
“No m’am, foot loose and fancy free, typical Jack.” He smiled that seductive smile.
“I’m married you know.”
“Do you know my husband?”
“I have seen him, but I don’t know him personally. Ripper isn’t it?”
“Well, Vice Admiral Sir Raymond Nicasov-Kwic.”
“That isn’t what he’s called on the lower decks.”
“I’d rather not say m’am, it’s not very respectful.”
“Go ahead, I want to know.”
“It’s old ‘rip her knickers off quick’ m’am.”
I laughed out loud. Dusty, unnaturally for a man of his calling, blushed.
“It’s a play on words, his name, m’am.”
“Yes, yes, I understand Dusty; I have lived with the name for long enough.”
We sat for a few minutes with our coffee.
“Do you know my name Dusty?”
“Virginia Frances Nicasov-Kwic nee Bellend.”
Dusty choked on his coffee canlı poker oyna spraying it into the air.
“Bellend? Bellend? Are you serious?
“I too have had nick names; can you guess what they were?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh fucking hell. I thought Bellend was bad enough, but Virgin Fanny…”
“What’s wrong with Bellend?”
“Don’t you know? It’s what they call the knob on the end of a blokes cock.”
“Oh is it and what about the rest of it?”
“Well, let’s face it, you don’t find many virgin fanny’s around naval establishments.”
“That’s fine, because mine isn’t anyway, that is long gone. Would you say, Dusty that you were capable of absolute discretion?”
“I have signed the Official Secrets Act, does that cover.”
“Good Lord no, a far, far higher level of discretion than that is needed here.”
“I would promise to do my utmost to be as discrete as needs be, although I don’t understand why it should be necessary.”
The whole situation was beginning to take on a quite definite humorous twist with the word fencing, hints and innuendo. I decided to be bold.
“A woman, that’s me, has needs. However, with the position her husband, that’s the Admiral, is in, there is a need for total discretion. Do you understand he doesn’t need to know of my little peccadilloes?”
“Do call me, say, Ginny or Fanny, m’am can be very irritating.”
“Very good then, Fanny, if you were to entertain callers when I was duty watch, I could exercise Nelson’s eye, and see no ships.”
“There wouldn’t be any callers.”
“I see. Well in that case I wouldn’t know about any peccadilloes.”
“Its like this Dusty, I am a resourceful woman, I satisfy my requirements within the house.”
“You, Fanny are losing me; I know absolutely nothing about peccadilloes or any other sort of dilloes for that matter.”
“I can see I shall have to spell things out a little more clearly.”
“That might be a very good idea Fanny.”
“One question, why Fanny, why not Ginny?”
“I just like Fanny.”
“Herm. Typical sailor, never met one that didn’t.”
“You, Dusty are a moderately presentable looking guy, ok, a bit on the short side but not unduly so.”
“The utmost discretion Dusty.”
“Among your duties, there is the requirement to provide incidental services. That is a phrase I had inserted to cover things other than sandwiches and coffee, but it did rely on the absolute discretion of the posted watch keeper. I have selected the defaulters posted, carefully, but until you, Able Seaman Dusty Miller, I haven’t felt confident to address the matter.”
“I really am confused now.”
“Come on man! Catch on. You like Fanny…. I like…?”
“It almost sounds as if you are suggesting…”
“Quite right, quite right, the incidental services are of a sexual nature.”
Dusty was totally stunned…I could tell! His phraseology left something to be desired.
“What was your misdemeanour?”
“It wasn’t much.”
“And your punishment?”
“Three nights on Captains defaulters seemed a bit over the top.”
“I hope, that your lack of height is not reflected in any reduction in dimensions anywhere else on your body?”
“The practicalities. You will be called, on each occasion that you are on watch by the Steward in the watch cabin, and you will turn to at your regular work station at the correct time. You will sign the duty book as ‘all quiet- no untoward incidents’. You will have retired to the watch cabin prior to the reveille call at 06.00. Should we meet beyond these doors we will not recognise one another,”
“And what happens between the Steward leaving and me being called by the Steward?”
“Between those times, you will attend to my every need, and I do mean every need. If you have finished your coffee, let’s see how you go with a shoulder and neck massage.”
Sailors in general, are not easily un-nerved, but the suggestion appeared to catch Dusty off guard, and his hand was definitely shaking enough to rattle his coffee cup and saucer as he placed it on the low table before us.
It would be quite wrong for me to tell you how soft his hands were, any of you with any sort of manual work experience will now that it makes for hard skin, what I will tell you however is how gentle his touch was. Magic does not come close to describing it.
The heels of his hands rested on the back of my neck as he started to work, bringing his fingers around to stroke my throat, he moved his thumbs, up behind my ears as his hands went about their business, I had never thought of that as an erogenous zone, but his touch there was electric.
He moved on to stroke and caress my shoulders, circling with his hands over the silk of my blouse.
“You like that?”
“Uuuum yes,” I whispered.
“It may be even nicer internet casino if my hands were on your skin instead of your blouse.”
Yes, I thought, you are probably right.
“You must do whatever you think Dusty, so long as I carry no marks.”
“Very good Fanny.”
The low back of the Chaise allowed me to snuggle back against him, I was sure that I could feel at least the beginnings of an erection.
His hand continued, slowly circling about my shoulders, then down the front of my blouse, soothing, stroking, brushing, out over my bosom, with just the suggestion of a fondle in passing, again, I couldn’t help but allow a moan to escape my throat, before returning once again to my shoulders to continuing his slow circling.
This time when I leaned back, it was to feel his erection growing within the confines of his trousers. His hand repeated their former journey from my shoulders to my waist, this time inside the silken protection of my blouse. As they passed my bosom, I was firmly squeezed, my nipples tingling within the silk brassier which contained the creamy mounds of my breasts.
Returning up my body again he spread his hands and passed each up at the side, pausing just long enough to brush the sides of my breasts, a touch which could even have been accidental it was so light. I cannot deny the touch thrilled me.
Over my shoulders and round again, his lips touched my hair as his hands travelled once again down my body, this time thrusting into my silk brassier, each smooth creamy breast firmly squeezed each tingling stiffened nipple crushed in his rough palms. It was unavoidable the thrills coursing through me were moistening my vitals.
I luxuriated in the sensations his touch was generating, I had selected Dusty quite carefully, and I was not disappointed. Coarse as his hands were, his touch was unbelievably tender, and I might add effective.
I moaned, and strove to move my breasts within his hands. The strain that his hands and my struggling to maximise my pleasure, my head thrown back recognised the pleasure Dusty was reaping, had an inevitable consequence, my brassier paid the price for my mammary pleasure when it finally burst exposing my breasts to his fondling and lustful gaze.
My blouse, lay open and the remnants of my brassier hanging to the sides, my creamy breasts tingling, engorged, flushed with a rosy hue and so in need of being suckled. As I wriggled in my seat, they wobbled gently.
“I think,” Said Dusty, “You must have tension in your legs; maybe I should massage them for you.”
“That would be a very good idea.”
My silk skirt was several inches below knee level and covered me modestly; I certainly could not have worn it to accompany Ripper to dinner aboard any of the vessels we had periodically to visit. Both the ladders for boarding and the wind when either aboard his barge or whilst gaining the deck of the host ship would have afforded the on looking crew a view of next weeks laundry which would not have been appropriate for an Admiral’s wife. I do have to say however that the next time I took a risk with my underwear would not be the first.
Dusty lifted each foot in turn and carefully removed my heeled shoes. When going shipboard it was not appropriate to wear high heels, because of the possible damage to the wooden decks and the possibilities of slipping on the steel decks.
He caressed each calf, from knee to ankle, the fine fabric snagging on his coarse skinned hands. Why, oh why did I feel so excited as his hand disappeared and re-appeared beneath my skirt? I just knew that silk had been the ideal fabric to choose for this adventure.
Dusty’s steel grey eyes caught mine and held my gaze before sliding down my torso to lust upon my breasts. He licked his lips, looked into my eyes again and with another lick of the lips leaned forward to suckle first on one and then the other nipple, skilfully flicking his tongue around each in turn.
I wasn’t directing Dusty’s attentions, however his every move seemed to meet my needs exactly. Had I long tutored him myself I could have asked for no more skill in meeting my needs.
As he suckled, his hands continued to caress my legs, my heels resting on his thighs, my ankles, calves, knees and thighs were all within his compass. At the top of his movement along my thighs his hands touched the silky gusset of my French knickers my skirt and under slip both riding up over his wrist.
He made no contact nor indeed did he attempt to make contact with my vulva the closest was his hands touching my knickers. Each suspender was detached from my fully fashioned seamed nylon stocking and the stocking slid like gossamer down my long legs. Till both ankles were swathed in the sheer tan fabric.
“Now, I can ease the tension in your legs without risk of laddering your stockings, they look so good on your legs it would be wrong to spoil them.”
I sighed, his touch exquisite, as he gently squeezed and stroked my calves. At the top of the stroke, the inner surfaces of my knees warmed to his caress and parted expectantly, hoping that he would intrude further upon my person. Dusty was not to be rushed, he was controlling the pace of the activity which I had construed. The pace I might add was in itself a stimulus, teasing and tantalising.
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