This story is fiction: any resemblance to real persons or places is purely coincidental.
copyright: Lesley Tara, 2009
The senior prom was only two weeks’ away, and I needed a ball gown. I didn’t have anything of that sort, as I had never expected to be invited. I wasn’t a senior, but was in the year below – in fact, at the time, I was not quite seventeen. However, one of the graduating class, a nice enough but rather nerdy boy called Brad, had asked me to go with him. It was a surprise; I didn’t know him very well at all. Perhaps he couldn’t find anyone in his own year – or it might have been because I was one of the best-looking girls in the year below, and not mean or catty to the less popular guys like some of the others were. I accepted, whilst making it clear that things might go as far as some nice kissing, but definitely no further. So now I needed an evening dress, something cool and sexy to put me on a par with the senior girls, but not slutty. I had a couple of hundred dollars put by which I decided to use, and my Mom – with a nostalgic look in her eyes – gave me two hundred more ‘to get something special’.
I got some good advice from my cousin, Sammy-Jayne, a very attractive young woman of 22 with whom I had been close friends all my life, despite the five years’ age gap; in fact, I have always had a bit of a crush on her. She said I should avoid the chain stores and the obvious ‘teen’ shops, and go for something more distinctive and with more class. She recommended a small independent dressmaker’s called ‘Clarissa’, which she said smart professional women in their 20s and 30s went to, but which had very affordable prices. It was in a small parade of shops in a quiet nearby neighbourhood, so I decided to begin my search there.
I had some free study time the next day, and slipped out of school to start my search. It was about noon when I arrived at the shop, and went inside. It was larger than it had seemed from the small street frontage, stretching back some way. It was pleasantly lit and had pale beech flooring and wall panelling. The shop seemed quiet, with just two women browsing and a smartly-dressed woman seated behind an antique-style desk. She looked to be in her early 30s, with thick curly dark hair that tumbled to her shoulders and dark brown eyes. I could tell she had a good figure, as the cleavage of a shapely bust was visible through the open neck of her red-and-blue striped shirt, the top three buttons of which were open. She wore a little jewellery, which like her clothes spoke of taste and quality. There were medium-sized hoop earrings, a gold chain around her neck with a pendant of dark stone hanging from it, just at the start of her cleavage and drawing the eye to it, and some dark red bangles on her wrists. She was wearing a blue jacket and a matching skirt which tapered to her knees, with a slit vent at the rear, and below this was visible some blue tights or stockings, and a pair of open-toe shoes with a medium heel. Her waist was neat and below it the flare of her hips was emphasised by the tight cut of the skirt, as were the prominence of her breasts above, helped by the support of an underwired bra. I saw all this because when I came in, she rose and in a friendly way shook my hand, introduced herself as Clarissa, the owner of the store, and asked if she could help. I explained my mission, and she smiled and directed me to the racks of evening dresses and ball gowns. ‘I have quite a lot in that line, actually’, she said; ‘have a look and take your time, pick out some and try them on for size.’
There certainly were some lovely dresses, ranging from austere ones with beautiful cuts and lines, to revealing confections of light satin which were out of my league for confidence even more than their cost; as always with clothes, the less there was of it, the more expensive its price tag! But Sammy-Jayne had been right, there were plenty within my budget to consider, and several I definitely liked – in the end, there were three front-runners, and I couldn’t decide between them. The other customers had left by now, and it was coming up to twelve thirty when Clarissa approached me again. She explained that because she was the only person there, she normally closed the shop for lunch between 12.30 and 1.30, but she didn’t want me to be rushed. She said that she usually stayed in the shop anyway during this period, catching up with paperwork, and it would be no problem if I wanted to keep looking or to try things on, indeed perhaps she could help me – but she would need to lock the front door so that more customers did not come in, as long as I did not mind that. Of course, I said that was fine, and thanked her for letting me stay in.
Clarissa locked the shop door, turned the sign round to show ‘Closed’ to the outside world, and pulled down the blind. Then she walked back to the rack that I had been going through, and looked at my choices. She regarded me appraisingly, and said she thought two of them might suit me very well, but picked out another couple of gowns – from those with the more daring cuts – instead of my third choice. ‘You are a very pretty girl’, she said, ‘and I think you have the poise and figure to carry these off – in fact, you would be quite stunning in them.’ Well, I did have a fairly full figure for not-quite-seventeen, with breasts and buttocks that were well-rounded and not an ounce of excess weight anywhere on my body. My tits and ass looked larger than they were because I had a small waist and because I liked to wear tight-fitting jeans and tops. I’m not a natural blonde, but my hairdresser layers it and dyes my hair so that it looks mainly blonde with darker hints underneath. I have a smooth complexion, large expressive eyes and a small mouth. When I stand in front of the mirror, whether in clothes, just underwear or nude, I know I look pretty hot.
‘Let’s try these on,’ said Clarissa. I started to move towards the changing room at the back of the store, but she pointed out that with the shop closed there was no need – that there was more room in the middle to pace about and some larger mirrors. It was true that with the blind over the door, no one could see in from the street, and so I kicked off my trainers, slipped out of my jeans, and shrugged off my plain white T-shirt. Clarissa held the dresses against my front, and we looked at them in the mirror. I could see what she meant about the two she had picked out – they would be eye-catching, but also stylish and distinctive. I decided to try one of them first and reached for it, only to be stopped by Clarissa’s restraining hand. ‘You’ll need to try it without the bra’, she pointed out, and – given its plunging shape, open in a deep slash to the navel at the front and to the base of the spine at the back – of course, I would. I felt a bit self-conscious and hesitated for a second, but she said softly ‘let me help you’, and as if half-hypnotised I turned my back towards her. I felt the light cool touch of her fingers unhooking the bra, and it slid down off my breasts as she removed it, letting them swing free. Her fingertips rested on my shoulders, and then gently traced their way down my back, meeting just above the cleft of my buttocks and my small pair of pink panties. ‘You have a lovely back’, she said, ‘these backless dresses are just right for you, especially the ones that will emphasise this.’ At the word ‘this’, one of her hands slipped lower, caressing and gently squeezing my right buttock.
Her touch was so sensuous that I felt my body responding to it, aroused by our closeness and her intimate contact. My nipples stiffened and became erect, and I felt warm and soft between the legs. Clarissa lifted the ball gown over my head, and its light glossy fabric slid down my body, its rustling passage across my breasts and ass turning me on even more. Clarissa stepped aside, and I did some twirls and admired myself in the mirrors. It was in a cool electric blue that suited my hair, and certainly did look amazing. There was almost nothing of it above the waist, but it didn’t feel like I was flashing acres of flesh; from the hips it draped in folds that swirled sexily when I moved, allowing most of my legs to be visible now and then in tantalising glimpses. I was excited as I stepped around in it, trying a few dance moves, and I must have positively glowed with youthful charm and eagerness. Clarissa laughed and clapped her hands, and with a smile I gave her a deep curtsey, without realising (at least, not consciously) that in so doing I afforded her a wonderful view of my curvy breasts and deep cleavage.
She suggested that I try the other one for comparison, and we swiftly changed them over. This evening dress was in emerald green with black trimmings, and whilst it covered more of my stomach and chest (whilst being almost totally backless), it somehow seemed even sexier than the other one in its cut and style. Clarissa stood next to me as I admired it in the mirror, and nodded her head. ‘Yes, I think that’s the one’, she agreed, ‘it suits your shape so well. Look how well it sits here ...’
her fingers brushed across my stomach, smoothing the thin fabric to my body – so light was the material, that it seemed she was stroking my naked flesh, and I drew an involuntary breath at the sensations it caused
her hand moved up to cup my breast, gently squeezing it and tracing her finger around the very visible nipple – I gave a kind of sigh, and my head went back, my shoulders up, thrusting my tits out for her use
her other hand encircled my other breast, taking the nipple between thumb and forefinger as I gasped in arousal and felt my panties soaking between my legs – there was no longer any pretence that her attentions were anything other than the sexual seduction of an inexperienced girl by a confident mature woman
the words were breathed in my ear as she moved closer still, and one hand slipped away from the breast it had been playing with to slide across my ass, running the thumb down between my buttocks, pressing the sheer fabric into my ass cleft
she was kissing my neck and her mouth nibbled at my ear, as her other hand dropped down my front to slip through the long side slash of the dress, running across my upper thigh to its target – my vulva ....
‘Oh! yes!’ I sobbed, as her questing fingers found the damp gusset of my panties, tugged it aside, and I felt the probing of her fingertips on my pussy lips, testing out my wetness and openness. I was nearly fainting, and to steady myself turned towards her and put my hands on her shoulders. She drew me towards her in a clinch for a long deep kiss, with all the time one hand holding my ass tight and the other stroking and teasing my cunny. When the kiss ended – which I had engaged in passionately – she stood slightly back and looked me directly in the eyes. She moved her hands to my waist, and said with a directness that was irresistible: ‘I want you, babe, I want you now!’ I looked back, seeing the lust in her eyes and feeling it in my body, and slightly bit on my lower lip, before discarding all restraint. ‘Please,’ I replied, ‘have me ... take me ... do it, I want it, I want you too.’ Her face lit up with a smile of pleasure, and she took me by the hand: ‘this way’, she said.
Clarissa led me to the back of the shop, to an unobtrusive door marked ‘Private’ that was just past the changing room. She unlocked it, and ushered me through ahead of her. I entered a delightful medium-sized room, tastefully decorated in a soft peach wallpaper with matching drapes that were closed across the only window. The main item of furniture was a huge double-bed, with a mattress covered in a large peach satin-looking sheet, and no other adornment. I stood beside the bed as Clarissa lifted the ball gown over my head and laid it on a nearby chair. Then she knelt in front of me, and gently kissed my crotch through my panties, before tugging them over my hips and down to the floor. I felt at a disadvantage, being completely naked whilst she was fully clothed, and I slipped her jacket from her shoulders and began to unbutton her blouse. She made no move to either stop or assist me, just regarding me with a warm smile. Once the blouse had gone, I unzipped her skirt and she stepped out of it, taking a second to fold it over the back of another chair. I could now see and admire her properly. She was a beautiful example of a woman on the cusp between her lively 20s and more stately 30s, with a firm figure, good skin tone, and yet just a hint of lushness and ripeness. She was wearing sheer blue stockings in traditional style, held up by an elegant blue suspender belt. Over this, barely covering her cunt, was a small pair of panties in a transparent blue mesh, decorated with a pattern of wine red roses. Her breasts were as full as I had thought, firmly pushed up and out in an underwired half-cup bra that was part of a matching set with the belt and panties. She stood for a moment with her hands on her hips, savouring the moment of my obvious admiration of her body, and smiling warmly.
Then she slipped off her shoes and sank to her knees in front of me, putting her hands on my ankles and then lingeringly sliding them up the inside of each leg. I gasped with anticipation as they traversed my upper thighs and met at their junction with my pudenda. She teased it open, and then leant in to press her tongue between my labia, questing for the entrance to my cervix and the treasure-spot of my clitoris. I was trembling with desire and excitement, and she slipped her hands to my buttocks, partly to caress them but also to hold me steady. After a couple of minutes of this dextrous attention, I felt aflame, and then waves of warmth and wetness flooded through my pussy, and I was moaning aloud whilst wondering mentally if these were orgasms – if so, they were my first proper ones. Clarissa rose back to her feet and placed her hands on my shoulders. The message of her gentle downwards pressure was unmistakeable, and I swallowed in some nervousness as in my turn I went to my knees. I stroked her cunt through the skimpy panties for a moment, and then pulled them down and away. After she stepped out of them, she took up a pose with her legs spread further apart, and I could see – and smell – every part of her sex. It was a heady prospect, and my hesitation fell away. With a feeling almost of homecoming, my tongue speared into her gaping vulva, and I began noisily slurping at her pussy juices. She gave a kind of gasp at my intensity, as I pushed my face in deeper to her soft warm flesh, moving my tongue first in swipes up and down and then in a circular corkscrewing motion. The second of these got her going into a higher gear, and with a broken moan she arched her legs further open and seized the back of my head in both her hands, pulling me hard against her as her hips began to spasm rhythmically – slowly at first, and then faster and faster, accompanied by a rasping whimper. At last, with a sharp cry, she froze rigid for a moment, clutching me against her – and then released me, to stagger back against the bed and sit down on it.
She regarded me with a slightly haggard amazement, and said breathlessly and with a laugh: ‘That was fucking amazing ... that was an amazing fuck!’ I was still on my knees before her, the taste of her cunt all over my mouth and cheeks, and I ran my tongue around the outside of my lips to lap it up. Clarissa leant forwards; ‘come up here, honey’, she said, drawing me by the elbow to my feet and then towards the bed. I lay across the middle of the mattress on my back, and she firmly spread my legs apart and gently ran a finger vertically along the length of my moist slit, sending a shudder of anticipation through me. Kneeling next to me, she uncoupled her bra and flung it behind her onto the floor. She cradled her full breasts in her hands and bent over me, thrusting them out as an offering. It didn’t take a second thought to reach for them, squeezing and fondling, and to draw one nipple down to my waiting mouth. I licked around it and then, greatly daring, took it gently between my teeth and teasingly tugged and stretched it. ‘Oh, sweet heaven,’ she moaned, ‘fuck, that sends me, ohhhh .... aaaah!’ The last sound changed pitch because I had reached a hand under her curving stomach to thrust my index finger hard into her cunt. I was on some other planet now, with primeval instinct taking over, and I began to ram the finger in and out of her as it was a weapon, assaulting and penetrating her cervix. Within seconds she had reached another gasping climax, after which she rolled away to lie beside me on her back for a minute. ‘Wow!’ she gasped, ‘you must have done this before?’ I shook my head, and told her this was my first time, I just did what seemed right. ‘Well, you’re a natural, honey,’ she answered, ‘and now it’s your turn.’
She asked if I was a virgin, and I replied that I had never had sex with anyone before, but she didn’t need to worry about breaking my hymen as I had already done that. (I didn’t go into more detail, but when I was sixteen Sammy-Jayne had told me that it was better to do this yourself – it was less painful and less messy, as it could be unpleasant for both of you when a boy did it. We had had some girly laughs about it, and then she had given me her old vibrator, making me promise not to say where I had got it my parents should find it.) Clarissa was clearly excited that she had been the first to take the pleasures of my sweet teen body, and gave me the benediction of a soft kiss on the lips, on each nipple, and on the pussy. Then she went a dressing table in the corner of the room, and came back with a long, flexible, plastic double-ended dildo. I eyed this with interest and a little dubiousness – in the last ten months, I had only be able to work the vibrator about three inches into me, so I couldn’t see how this monstrous snake would fit.
Clarissa must gave seen the thought flash across my face, because she gave a happy laugh and told me not to worry. ‘You’re so loose now, you’ll be amazed what your cunt can take’, she said. And of course she was right: she knelt between my legs, and fed five inches into me before I hardly felt it, and another inch at least before I began to feel filled and stretched. When she encountered firmer resistance and I gave a little cry of semi-protest, she stopped, shifted to her haunches with her knees apart, and began thrusting the other end into herself. I reached out my hand and helped to push the knobbed plastic tube into her, and she must have taken at least eight inches, maybe more. When that was done, there was barely three inches still visible between our two holes. Clarissa began to thrust herself up and down on her end of the dildo, and gestured to me to do the same. After a few tries, I got the hang of it, and then worked out that it was ten times more effective when we coincided – pulling out together, then driving towards each other, with force cancelling force and producing a firmer pressure on the excited nerve-ends in our pussies. We began to grunt and gasp, and the dildo penetrated deeper, until at last our pussies were smacking wetly against each other as we collided. I was propped up on my elbows, and my head lolled back over my shoulders as I emitted a wave of barking cries. Clarissa’s hands were slippery with her sweat and mine as she took a vice-like grip on my thighs, pushing herself down onto me and then pulling out again. Sweat also glistened on her face and her breasts, as we ground our way to a final, gut-wrenching climax. Exhausted and out of breath, we collapsed side by side, my pleasure being extended in a way that was almost excruciating as Clarissa slid the plastic tube out of me. She extracted the other end from herself, letting it drop on the floor beside the bed, and then she lay down, gathering me into her arms so that my head was in the crook of her shoulder.
As I lay on the bed, spent, somehow both excited and utterly relaxed, Clarissa traced her fingers enticingly from my navel around my breasts and back again. ‘I don’t often get girls your age coming into the shop’, she said, ‘most of my customers are mid-20s to mid-40s, it’s a very specific demographic.’ The back of her hand brushed lightly across my nipples, as she asked: ‘How did you hear of it?’ I admitted that I probably wouldn’t have, but that my cousin had warmly recommended it. Clarissa propped herself up on one elbow, her generous breasts swinging to the side, and she studied my face and profile for a moment, before exclaiming: ‘Of course ... Sammy-Jayne!’ I nodded, and then she asked thoughtfully: ‘What did she tell you?’ ‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘Just that I would be sure to get what I really needed here ... that she always had ...’ My voice trailed off, as the double-meaning of my cousin’s words suddenly became clear to me – as did a whole lot more about her: her infrequent and very temporary boyfriends, the hiking and camping holidays with female friends she had taken during her college vacations, and her talk of moving to the Big Apple for her career ‘because in a big city you can be just yourself, there’s no one watching you’. I savoured the revelation – I would have to have a chat with my sweet cos, and express my appreciation of her advice in a very personal way. I could see our relationship taking on a whole new direction, and I was excited by the idea that with her experience she could take me further down this secret path.
Conversation was suspended for a while, because then Clarissa leaned over to nibble on my tits, and her hand found my cunt and clitoris again, stroking me to a final back-arching, shuddering climax. She now lay partly on top of me and partly beside me, with our legs entwined and her pussy gently rubbing against mine in an extremely sensuous fashion. She ran her fingers through my hair and then, appearing to have come to a decision, she said something that took my breath away. ‘I could do with an assistant in the shop on Saturdays, it’s the busiest time – I can’t pay very much, but would you be interested in a part-time job?’ I couldn’t believe my luck – not just this one session with her, but the prospect of a regular weekly fuck – for I knew, however much she might find an assistant useful, it was the after-hours activity that she really had in mind. Her next remark was even more exciting, promising an even greater scope. ‘There are perks, of course, and you’ll also get to know some of the customers quite intimately’, she said, her eyebrows arching suggestively. ‘Oh, yes, please!’ I replied eagerly, adding breathlessly: ‘when can I start?’ Clarissa laughed at that, and gave my nearest breast a playful squeeze. ‘You are a find,’ she said, ‘send my thanks to Sally-Jayne.’ She saw from her watch that it was nearly 1.30, and regretfully said she would have to go and reopen the shop. She nodded to a door on the other side of the room, and told me there was an en suite bathroom with a shower, and to take my time. When I emerged from the private room thirty minutes later, she was talking to a customer, an attractive tall redhead in her late 30s. She broke away with a murmured excuse, and I quickly paid for the emerald green ball gown – though she only charged me two-thirds of the ticket price, calling it my first ‘staff discount’. I was so glad that she had not forgotten her offer, that she meant it seriously. ‘Be here on Saturday at 9.30 prompt’, she said with a warm smile, and then handed me the package with a wish that I would enjoy the prom. Never mind the ball, I thought – I would be having a ball here, every Saturday!
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