Loading...It was 1959 and I was 19 years old. I had left London and had accepted a position as a junior clerk in a large company in the north of England. I found a small, cheap bed-and-breakfast hotel run by Mrs. Johnson, a friendly motherly type, who made me feel instantly at home. I decided to stay there for a couple of weeks until I found a flat to rent. It was Friday and my first night in the city.
Mrs. Johnson had retired early as she had a headache. She told me that there were only two other guests in the hotel and were still at work and would let themselves in later as they had a key. At 9.30pm she bid me goodnight.
I was sitting in the small lounge reading various back issues of ‘Country Life’ and ‘Punch’ magazine. It was getting fairly late. Looking around the room I saw a depressing collection of old furniture and cheap reproduction paintings. There was one standard light in the corner and two three-seater settees and a coffee table. In the dull lamp-light I sat on one of the settees deciding whether or not to go to bed.
Out in the hall I suddenly became aware of hushed female voices, laughing and whispering, and then the sound of the front door slowly closing. I was aware that there were two of them, presumably the other guests.
The door to the lounge slowly opened and a tall blonde lady in her late twenties, or early thirties, appeared briefly and then disappeared to talk to her friend giggling. They had clearly been out on the town as they sounded slightly tipsy, if not drunk.
“There’s someone in there,” she whispered loudly to her friend.
“Well go in then, it doesn’t matter does it?”
Staggering noticeably in her stiletto heels the blonde woman reappeared and smiled at me, then a tall dark haired woman, of similar age and wearing similar heels walked in almost tripping over the first.
“Sorry to….err…disturb you,” said the first, “but we’ve been at a sales promo and…err…we’re a bit..err…tiddly.”
“Yes and I need a piss,” said the second one as I heard her high heels clunking up the stairs.
“Excuse my friend, she’s a bit common.” Said the blonde woman smiling wildly.
She unbuttoned her coat to reveal a very full bouffant style strappy dress, red in colour with large white polka-dots. It ended just below the knee. The dress swayed from side to side as she moved, clearly supported by several layers of stiff net petticoats, as was the fashion in the 1950s.
I could hear a distinct swishing sound. Below her skirt I could see black stockings and black patent leather four-inch stiletto heeled shoes.
I wondered to myself what colour her petticoats were. She threw her coat onto the other settee and approached me unsteadily.
I informed her that I was going to bed and that I hoped that they both slept well. I stood up to leave the room just as the dark haired woman reappeared in the doorway.
She had already taken off her coat and was wearing a similar dress, but the pattern was reversed. She wore a very wide white bouffant dress with large red polka dots. She blocked my exit.
“And where do you think you are you going to young man?” the brunette pouted down her nose at me, pushing me playfully back towards the settee.
I said “Nowhere,” as I thought to myself that I may be in for some sort of a treat if I remained.
She shoved me back to where the blonde lady was now sitting. I fell onto the middle cushion of the settee, landing on her dress which was spread out quite widely.
“Hey watch my skirt!” She said, reproaching me and jokingly pushing me to one side as she stood up and shook her dress back into shape.
I noticed a white mass of paper nylon petticoats under her polka dots. I resumed my seat and so did she, arranging her dress so that it deliberately partly covered my right leg.
The brunette collapsed next to me on my other side and similarly arranged her wide dress so that it covered my other leg; I noticed that her stiff petticoat was white also.
I wasn’t sure what to say to them but needn’t have been too concerned as both women talked across me about their day on the sales promotion stand.
Shirley, the blonde one, complained that several photographers tried to look up her skirt. As a model, she was used to attention but not such coarse behaviour or suggestiveness.
Beryl agreed, and said she had one bloke asking her to bend over so he could take shots of her stocking tops.
Shirley was also aware of men staring down the front of her dress, which I had to admit was rather low and she did have a large bust. One bra strap had fallen off her shoulder but she wasn’t concerned.
Both women smelled of gin and cheap scent and were enjoying their sexy conversation clearly aware that they were embarrassing me.
“So sorry to bore you young man,” Beryl whispered, “and how old are you then?”
I said I was nineteen but admitted I was rather short and skinny for my age.
Shirley asked me my name and whether I had a girlfriend. I told her that I did not have a girlfriend at present.
“Would you like to feel us up David?” Beryl said blatantly, squeezing my knee. Clearly it was the gin talking.
I turned beetroot red but held my nerve and said, “OK then,” trying to control my excitement; my penis began to swell and take a serious interest in the proceedings.
“Go on then Dave,” slurred Shirley nudging her leg firmly against mine, winking in a provocative manner. “Get your hand up my dress and into my knickers.”
She spread her leg over mine in a lewd and somewhat ridiculous manner, kicked off her shoes and pulled her skirt up so that her stiff net underskirts spilled upwards and outwards crackling as they moved.
Beryl meanwhile swivelled and placed one leg over the arm of the settee throwing off her shoes and leant back next to me so I could see down her generous cleavage.
She closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out slowly sliding it over her dark red lips moaning seductively. They were clearly great actresses.
I could not take all this in. Everything was happening too quickly. I was determined to take advantage of the situation and play things by ear. At least I wasn’t drunk.
I moved my right hand onto Shirley’s stockinged knee feeling the smoothness of her nylons while she guided it up to her suspender clips. My penis stiffened as I felt her warm thighs.
I slowly slid my fingers along the soft flesh and felt scratchy lace. She was wearing loose French knickers. She opened her legs and I slipped my middle finger onto her hairy cleft searching for moisture.
Meanwhile Beryl grabbed my left arm, and pulled my hand down to her bust. She stared up at me, her gorgeous face smiling as we began gentle snogging, then French kissing, her tongue filling my mouth.
My penis was painfully stiff and Beryl undid my belt and flies and, with difficulty, got her hands into my underpants and began squeezing.
My hand massaged Beryl’s cleavage and I cupped her breasts, squeezing and tweaking her hard nipples, while she slid her bra straps off.
Between kisses I asked Beryl whether we were OK in the lounge as Mrs. Johnson might suddenly appear.
” Don’t worry about her David, she’s got her lodger.” Her tongue re-entered my mouth while I sucked on it,
“You might hear them both at it, first thing in the morning.” she said. I tried to reply but our tongues were too busy. My eyes stared at Beryl’s tits which were now completely exposed.
Shirley was using my fingers to stimulate herself. She was bucking her arse up and down with three of my fingers firmly clamped inside her warm wet vagina.
She was rubbing the ball of my thumb firmly against her clitoris and moaning in anticipation. After many minutes in this position both my tongue and right hand were becoming sore.
Shirley however was approaching her climax and her taffeta dress and nylon petticoats slid about swishing, crackling and froufrouing.
Her muscles clenched my fingers and she gripped me hard before her orgasm. I waited as her breathing tensed then came quickly, her face twisted in pleasure, eyes closed.
I felt her vaginal muscles spasm as she shook violently gasping for air. It was over and she relaxed, her face and neck red through exhaustion.
I think Beryl must have felt Shirley’s orgasm reflected in the pace of my kissing.
“Let’s get your tongue somewhere else shall we young man?” she smiled wickedly and pushed me firmly to the floor so I was kneeling between her legs.
She sat so that her stocking feet were on my shoulders, legs splayed widely, and shifted forward, her dress and petticoats pulled up to her chin or trailing over the settee.
I was treated to an extraordinary lewd view of white frilly underwear. Like Shirley, Beryl also had a penchant for French knickers.
Hers were very loosely gathered at the waist and were made of white satin nylon edged with a deep flounce of stiff lace which ended at her stocking tops. I could tell she was worked up as there was a damp patch around her gusset, either that or she had forgotten to wipe herself after her earlier ‘piss’.
Under her knickers a very lacy suspender belt peeped out and was securely fastened to her black stockings by metal clips.
“Come on David let’s see if you can do anything with that tongue of yours.” She said challengingly.
I wanted to tell her all about Craigcarron last summer, how I had seriously satisfied both my Scottish cousins, the doctor’s daughter, Mrs McAllister and six of her friends and young Molly several times, but I hadn’t got time.
I got down to giving Beryl the ‘orgasm of her life’ as I started slowly licking the inside of her thighs which quivered and flinched.
I scratched the delicate skin gently with my fingernails and ran them down to her buttocks and scraped her flesh in circular movements, approaching closely but not touching the silky skin between her legs.
I held her gusset away from her pubic area and gently massaged around her outer lips, again not touching her most sensitive parts.
I blew on her thighs where they were wet from my lickings and started the process over again. I felt her stockinged feet massage my neck as they dropped down my back pulling me further into her.
I moved my middle finger to her anus and massaged it firmly as she lifted her arse off the settee.
I felt small cold hands pull down my trousers and underpants and grip my penis and balls from underneath.
Shirley began licking my ears and neck as she kneeled behind me, clearly intent on making me come. With her right hand she began slowly tossing me off as I continued pleasuring Beryl.
My tongue was now vigorously exploring her outer lips, and was aware that her inner lips glistened at me demanding my attention.
Exposing her clitoris I started increasing the tempo, flicking at her most sensitive spot over and over again. This went on for many minutes.
Beryl’s eyes stared widely at me then closed as her face began to contort showing her imminent approach to her orgasm.
She decided to take control. Holding onto my head she ground her pubic area into my face, jerking violently. She adjusted the speed and pressure using my tongue and nose on her clitoris which was now very prominent.
My penis was being wanked mercilessly by Shirley who had clearly done this often before.
It was only a matter of time as to who would come first. I didn’t have to wait long. Beryl swore loudly and orgasmed, juice seeping out of her vagina, on to my face and turning her knickers transparent.
Her involuntary twitching continued as I held on to her.
Feeling semen rising inside me I held back as long as possible delaying the final millisecond of sheer pleasure then jerked out four or five huge strands of semen over the inside of Beryl’s petticoats as Shirley continued milking me, holding on firmly, my balls noticeably empty.
It took a while for us all to recover. I lay on my back on the carpet, arms extended, trousers round my ankles, staring upwards.
Shirley and Beryl passed paper tissues to each other, and smiled at me. I felt I had done my bit, and perhaps relieved us all of our sexual tensions.
We talked about sex and our experiences. I mentioned that I enjoyed being under a woman’s skirt, preferably being sat on.
Beryl took this to be a hint, particularly as I was squirming on the floor my penis beginning to stir.
“So what is it you like exactly you dirty sod?” said Shirley standing up, again rearranging her skirt and petticoats, checking her stockings and suspenders and shaking her clothes out so her dress returned to its bouffant shape.
“I suppose I just like to see up skirts and dresses at close quarters,” I said in a matter of fact way.
“So if I stand over you, then you get excited?”
I told her to try it.
She put her shoes back on so she towered over me then stood with her feet each side of my head as I stared up under her masses of petticoat layers.
I couldn’t see her face because her petticoats were so wide but she told me that my penis was getting stiffer. She swayed from side to side which allowed me a clear view of her French knickers which were black and edged in semi transparent nylon lace.
Again I felt my penis rise. She squatted down so her arse was lightly resting on my nose facing my feet. Again I felt my penis twitch particularly as the nylon net was so noisy, and it was dark and had a warm vagina odour trapped under her skirt.
I found it difficult not to wank in that situation.
I did not need to wank myself as I was aware of Beryl’s tongue licking the tip of my penis and felt her petticoats descend over the lower part of my body as she straddled my feet.
Beryl was clearly adept at sucking penises and I felt as if I had little to do but to lie back and enjoy the sensations.
I licked Shirley’s buttocks and breathed in her natural female scents, nuzzling her vagina firmly, her juices still evident from her orgasm.
I wasn’t far off an orgasm myself and felt one welling up inside and gently flow into Beryl’s mouth, this time not as vigorous as last time, but a gentle relaxed experience.
I lifted up Shirley’s petticoats and saw Beryl’s mouth full of my cum which she transferred to a tissue, She smiled at me from under my nylon net petticoat ‘tent’.
When I awoke the next morning both Shirley and Beryl had left but there was a sealed envelope addressed to me on the hall stand.
It simply said “Dear David. Thank you so very much for last night. We both enjoyed your company, so sorry we were both so drunk. We wish all boys knew what to do down there, clearly you do, so keep it up. We envy the next girl you meet. Love, Shirley and Beryl, xxx”