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By Lord John Thomas (lord_john_thomas@hotmail.com)

Author Note: All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.


My heart is still thumping in my chest, and my stomach is still all churned-up. What a morning this has been, and all because my husband has a roaming eye. What am I going on about? Well I’ll tell you. Bloody men!

My name is Sandra but everybody calls me Sandi, I’m thirty-three years old and have been married to Roger for twelve years. I’ve always had a well paid job, earning nearly double Roger’s wage. But we just had our first child three months ago, a gorgeous little girl called Rebecca, and I gave up working to look after her. But this has drastically reduced our combined income. This didn’t hit us at first, but now its getting on for six months since my last pay cheque, and things are getting tight.

Last night was our wedding anniversary. And although Roger did remember, and took me out for a meal, not to an expensive restaurant, but a simple meal in a pub which would have been sufficient, but what got to me; was that Roger spent all night ogling two girls that were sitting at the bar. Talking to him was like talking to the wall, in-fact, I think the wall was paying me more attention. Then when we got home, he was flirting with the young girl who’d been babysitting. Luckily she only lives a few doors away, as I don’t think I’d have trusted him to have given her a lift home. Then to really ruin the night; when we got into bed, he immediately fell asleep, leaving me getting more and more frustrated.

So this morning when he’d gone to work, I was in a really foul mood. And I decided to do something to get my own back. I’d bought no new clothes for ages, because we were cutting down on our spending. But I thought to myself, if he’s going to be looking at other girls, then I’m going to get other men, to look at me! First thing to make a girl feel sexy; is sexy underwear. And good sexy underwear doesn’t come cheap. There are no really good underwear shops in our local town, so I’d have to go some twenty miles or so to the nearest city.

But here again our money problems hit me. Only last week my beloved Laurence failed his MOT. Laurence is the name of my big old Land Rover truck. I’ve had it since I was twenty-one. It’s slow, noisy, thirsty, drafty, but has never let me down in all the twelve years I’ve owned it. When I’m driving it; I sit up there so high, and feel so safe. And the MOT he just failed? Well in England to get your annual road tax, if your vehicle is over three years old, it needs a road worthiness test in a garage, we call it an MOT. Well my Laurence failed; so no MOT, no tax. No tax means you’re not insured. And any one of the three things means you can’t take it on the road. We couldn’t afford to have the garage fix the car, so Roger was going to get one of his friends to look at it for me. But this was something else he hadn’t done.

Well fuck the road tax! Fuck the insurance! And fuck their silly old MOT! My Laurence has always got me where ever I wanted to go in the past, and he wouldn’t let me down now. So I got the baby ready, with all her stuff, and bundled her into the back of my trusty Laurence. I dropped her off at my moms, and off I went to get some drop-dead sexy kit.

I knew which shop I was heading for, it was a small exclusive place. Everything in there cost a bomb, but what the fuck! There was only a little parking space in-front of the shop, with enough room for about four cars. I swung Laurence into one of the parking bays and jumped out. Now if Roger had seen me he’d have nagged me all day long, he always insisted on my reversing into the parking space. But today Roger could go-fuckhimself!

Now to go shopping I’d wanted to look my best, but with no new fashionable stuff, I had to go back to basics. One thing that will always be in style is showing lots of leg, bust, or flesh in any area. And that was something else that Roger had let me down on! He’d given me a target weight and waist size when our Rebecca was born, and he’d promised that when I got back down to my original nine stone, and twenty-two inch waist, he’d buy me a complete new outfit. Well I’d reached this target two weeks ago, and there was still no sign of him taking me shopping to buy it. Anyway, as I say I’d got a short skirt and a tied blouse. So I was showing lots of leg, bare tummy, and plenty of cleavage.

I walked into the shop, and straight up to the centre counter, where the man who owned the shop was standing. Then bold-as-brass, without trying to make sure nobody else could hear.

"I’m looking for some really sexy underwear."

"Well you’ve come to the right place. Because that’s all we sell here. But what kind of sexy do you want? Frilly? Skimpy? Silky? Old fashioned lacy? That’s really back in fashion now."

"I want something that doesn’t leave much to the imagination."

"In that case, our skimpy range is mainly over in that area of the shop. Once you find what you want, there is a changing room at the back of the shop. If you need any assistance, just come and ask. And I hope you don’t mind me saying, that I think you’re making the right choice. With a body like yours, it would be a sin to cover it up."

I felt myself blush as he made his remark, but I turned away without answering him, and made my way to where he’d pointed. The stuff was so nice, it was difficult to know what to pick. I’d been browsing around for about ten minutes, when suddenly.

"Do you mind if I pick a few things for you to try?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin as the shop owner spoke from directly behind me.

"Err. No of-course not, I’d be glad of your assistance, there’s just so much to choose from."

"Even if I do say so myself, I’m a pretty good judge of what style suits what type of lady."

"Ok then, tell me what style you think would suit me."

"Well you’ve got such a sexy little body, you don’t need anything fancy, or overstated. I’d suggest a thong, and a half cup bra. Here try this set, it’s almost transparent, but it will certainly show you off to best effect. Then there’s this set, still very revealing, but silk material. And then there’s this lace one, not my choice, but maybe you’ll like it. If you want to go and try them on, the changing room is vacant. If any of them take your fancy, you should find me around the shop somewhere, but I’m expecting a delivery to my store-room at the back, so if I’m not about, just pick up the little brass bell on the counter, and give it a ring."

I tried on all three sets, and was in love with all of them, but with price tags starting at around ninety pounds, this little lot would in total exceed threehundred and fifty pounds! Now pissed as I was with Roger, I couldn’t spend that kind of money. Even the cheapest set at ninety, would cause us a lot of financial pain.

Then and idea hit me, I looked out of the curtains, and the manager of the shop was still milling about, so I started putting the underwear on, one set on top of the next. All the time I kept having a quick peek through the curtains, to check where he was. Then as I’d just put my own underwear back on I was having a peek, and I saw him disappearing into a door to the side of the changing cubicle. I assumed this led to his stock-room, and he’d gone to take care of the delivery as he’d said. Now I was panicking, I had to pull my skirt and blouse on, and get out to Laurence as quickly as I could.

I made my way from the cubicle as quickly as possible, but trying not to arouse any of the other customers’ attention. I was about ten feet from the door, when I heard a voice behind me.

"Was there nothing suitable?"

It was the shop owner, who was stood by the cubicle, with his hand just about to open the curtain.

"Err. No thank you."

I replied as I looked back whilst opening the door. I could see he’d now pulled the curtain back. As I stepped out, I heard his call.

"Hey! Stop! Where are the outfits?"

I ran as fast as I could, jumping into Laurence, and turning the key. He burst into life as usual, and I crashed the gear stick into reverse. Then dropping the clutch, I floored the throttle pedal, and pulled a handful of steering on. We shot off backwards, and there was a jolt, and an almighty screeching sound. I had been looking behind me, but as I swung my head to where the noise was coming from, I could see my front bull-bar had swung into the side of the car parked next to me. I kept my foot hard down, and Laurence just pushed the car sideways out of his path. It was a brand-new Jag, and as we lurched free of it, I could see we’d ripped the side open from front passenger door, along to the back bumper.

We were reversing from the parking bay, back up towards the door of the shop. I turned my head back to see where I was going, before I crashed into anything else. I could now see the shop manager coming running out of his door, only to be met by Laurence’s back end rumbling its way towards him. He stopped in his tracks, and jumped clear, I rammed the stick into first, and we were off. We were in second gear before I'd left the little car-park. I kept my foot hard down not attempting to slow down as I joined the road. Luckily the traffic was light, and apart from some horn blowing, we were away without incident.

I didn’t head for home; instead I drove around the city for a while to see if we were being followed. Then after about fifteen minutes driving around, I made my way back home. I didn’t pick-up baby, my nerves were too shattered. So here I am, sitting here a nervous wreck. What happens now? Well one good thing, Laurence pours out black smoke, so the whole back end of him is filthy. There is no way you could read the number plate even stood up close. So I felt quietly confident that I’d got away with it.

"Ring ring, Ring ring. Ring ring,"

The phone, I about jumped out of my skin. I didn’t want to answer it. But why? It could only be my mum, or a friend.

"Hello."

"Hello. Is that Sandra Hall?"

"Why, who wants to know?"

"This is Mr Armstrong here; I’m the proprietor of ‘Silks & Satins’. I just wanted to inform you that I will be handing your purse and handbag over to the police when they arrive. I expect you’ll be able to pick them up from the station when they arrest you."

My heart sank, I’d been in such a state, I hadn’t even missed the bloody handbag. With all the rushing to get dressed and out of the cubicle, I must have left it hanging on the peg in there. What the hell could I do now?

"Please don’t call the police."

"And why ever not? You’ve not only stolen goods from my shop, I have a customer here, whose beautiful new car has been torn to shreds. He’s just sitting down in a state of shock."

"Please I beg you; I’ll bring your stuff back."

"My dear, I wish it were that simple. Even if I decided not to prosecute, what about this gentleman’s car? He’ll need the details of your insurance."

Now I knew I wasn’t insured, so the bill for this guy’s car would be out of my pocket. There was no way we could pay out for a car that must have cost about forty grand.

"I’m not insured. Sob sniff. That’s why I didn’t stop. Please don’t phone the police, I’ll go to prison."

"You are in a mess then. Don’t move away from your phone, I’ll ring you back in a minute."

So I sat there waiting, wondering what he was doing at the other end. Eventually, the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Right my dear, I don’t like talking about this kind of thing on the phone, so I'll be very brief. You be the same, just a simple yes or no. If your answer is no, I’ll ring the police, and we'll just let matters take their course. Here is my proposition. I’ve just taken delivery of a complete new range of swim wear. I would normally hire a model for the day. If I bring my camera, and the stuff to your place, and you model it, I won’t prosecute. The gentleman whose car you demolished is prepared to claim off his own company insurance, and not go to the police. Providing you let him join us, he'd like to watch you while you do the modelling."

"But what are the costumes like?"

"I said I wanted a simple yes or no. If the next word you utter isn’t yes, then I’m putting the phone down, and phoning the police."

I had no real choice to make, it had to be yes.

"Yes."

"Ok my dear we’ve got your address, it’ll take us about thirty minutes, that’s time for you to have a shower, and get yourself in the right frame of mind."

"Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

The phone went dead as he’d dropped his receiver.

So now I had two men coming to my house, to photograph me in? In what I didn’t know. I went upstairs, and removed the layers of underwear, the cause of all my problems, and then I ran myself a hot bath. As I lay in my bath, I began to re-run the mornings events through my head, wondering just how I’d got myself into this bloody mess. As normally happens when having a bath, time passes before you know it, and I was still mulling the morning’s disaster through my mind, when I heard the front door bell.

"Shit!"

I hauled myself from the tub, and put on a bath robe, then made my way down the stairs. My stomach was full of butterflies, as I opened the door.

"Excuse me miss. Sorry to have disturbed your bath. Parcel for you, can you sign here?"

"Oh yes. Oh its ok, I’d been in there too long, I was turning into a prune."

He took the slip I’d just signed, and gave me the parcel.

"I hope you don’t mind me saying, if the prunes we had for school dinners had been like you, then we’d have all been going back for second helpings."

With that he turned on his heals, and was off up the garden path.

I put the parcel down in the corner of the hall, and suddenly realised that I’d still got his pen in my hand. Now it wasn’t a diamond studded or real gold one, but it was a relatively expensive pen. I wasn’t dressed to chase after him, so I put it on the hall window sill. I rushed back upstairs, and was about to throw off the robe, with the intention of getting dressed, when the door bell rang again. I turned around, and I was pulling the robe together as I ran back down the stairs, thinking the postman had returned for his pen. As I opened the door, I picked-up the pen and handed it forward.

"Here it is. Oh! You're not the postman. Oh sorry."

As you’ve probably guessed, it was the shop owner, and a man I’d never seen before.

"Thank you for the pen. Do I call you Sandi or Sandra?"

"No, sorry that's not for you."

I said as I took it back from his hand, and put it back on the window sill.

"Sandi I suppose. Err. I suppose you’d better come in."

"Which room, front, back or do you want us to do it in your bedroom?"

The shop manager had a big holdall on one shoulder, and a silver metal suitcase thing in his other hand. The other man had two large bags, which looked like my Husbands fishing rod bags.

"Back room, I think. I’ll just nip upstairs and get dressed; I’ll be down in a moment"

"Hang-on, you might as well take a costume up with you, just give me a second to open my bag."

I followed them both into my back room, and the shop owner, who I later found out was called Ted, put both his case and bag on the floor. Then he searched around inside the bag, and pulled out a bright yellow swim suit, which he handed to me. I took it up to my bedroom, and was soon pulling it on. It was a really nice costume, not over the top skimpy, but a very sexy cut. It was the kind of thing that I’d wear on holiday, to go down to the beach.

I plucked up my courage, and down I went to see these two men. As I walked in the room, they’d been busy setting out the gear they’d just carried in. In one corner of the room was a screen, three cloth covered panels, similar to the type you can find in a doctors surgery. Then there were four big lights, each on its own stand. And the big silver case was laid open, and it contained all types of camera equipment. They’d also set-up a clothes rail, and hung out a selection of costumes from his big holdall.

As I walked in, they both spun around, and Ted said.

"Oh yes! I just knew you'd look stunning in that. What do you think Les?"

"You weren’t kidding. She’s got a cracking little body."

"Come-on then my dear lets introduce ourselves. This is Les, and you can call me Ted. We already know your name, but let’s just make sure you don’t mind us calling you Sandi."

"No, Sandi is ok. And please let me just say to Les just how sorry I am, for what I did to his car."

"Is that really true? Will you show Les just how sorry you are?"

"Of course I’m sorry, but what do you mean? How can I show him?"

Well by now, Les was sitting in the centre of my big three-seater leather settee, and Ted was kneeling on the floor, messing with his camera.

"Well in my book, you can sometimes say sorry with a kiss. I’m not sure if that would do it for Les?

"It would certainly be a start."

"I am really sorry."

And with that I walked towards him, and bent down to give him a kiss.

"Wait a minute. Let me get my lights and camera set-up first."

"What! You’re going to take a picture of me kissing him?"

He busily positioned his lights all around, and turned them on, illuminating the whole room. Then with his camera in his hand, he rolled across the floor to a position behind me. He was laid on his back pointing the camera’s great big lens upwards towards me.

"I want pictures of you doing everything. Ok, step back over me, and then come forward like you just did. But this time, lean forward to kiss Les, as you’re stepping over me. I want to see your lips meeting, framed by a shot taken through your legs."

"You can’t be serious?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if anyone recognises my face?"

"These pictures are just for me and Les. No one else will ever see them. When I take the ones for the display cards, I’ve got a masquerade mask for you to wear. It covers the eyes, nose and cheeks, so it still allows your pretty smile to be seen."

"But you still want me to let you take a picture from down there, with my legs open, wearing this costume?"

"So that wasn’t a genuine offer when you said you wanted to make it up to Les?"

"It was, but I never expected you’d want to take that sort of picture of me."

"So, you’re going to behave all childish about this? Well in that case I guess this isn’t going to work. We might as well get this lot packed up, and let the law deal with you."

"No don’t be like that! But are you saying that unless I want the police involved, you’re expecting me to let you take that kind of picture?"

"Yes. I would have thought that would have been obvious. Surely you can’t think that’s a high price to pay? You’ve just stolen nearly four-hundred quid’s worth of gear, and written-off a forty-grand car. A few pictures of you showing the gusset of a swimming costume doesn’t seem much to ask?"

"But when you phoned me, you said I’d just be modelling the swimwear."

"I don’t think I did. I asked if you’d model swimwear, and you said yes. But I never said that would be sufficient to pay us off for you stealing from me, and damaging his car."

"But I thought that was why you’d come here, just to take simple photos of me wearing your costumes."

"We’re going around in circles my dear. It’s quite simple. Are you going to let me take the shot, or are we leaving?"

"Well ok, you can take this one, but I’m not stripping."

"I haven’t asked you to. Now stand with your left leg there, and your right leg over here, and lean forward to give Les a kiss."

I put my legs in the positions he pointed to, and bent forwards. My hands rested just above Les’s shoulders, on the back of the settee. I pursed my lips, and we kissed.

"Hold that pose, don’t move."

Ted was clicking away, moving from under me, to my side, and all around. But Les was taking his opportunity, to push his tongue into my mouth. I didn’t like the thought, as both these men were at least forty years old, maybe even fifty. But considering my situation, I didn’t resist too vigorously, for fear of upsetting them.

"Ok. I’ve got that one. Now sit across his knee."

I stood up, turned, and backed myself onto Les’s knee, laying myself back into his right arm, which he wrapped around my back, resting his hand on my hip. Then his left hand slid under my knees, and he lifted them up and onto the settee. He then took his hand from under my knees, and wrapped it around my back, joining his other arm in pulling me to his chest. He then started pushing his tongue back into my mouth. We were in this clinch for at least three minutes, wet kissing, while Ted was wandering about taking pictures from all angles.

Then I felt Ted’s hand on my right ankle, he lifted it from the settee, and pulled it across placing it on the floor, hence pulling my legs apart. I was held tightly to Les, and his wet kissing prevented me from making a verbal protest. I lifted my leg and was about to put it back onto the settee.

"Sandra my dear. Don’t be awkward. If I put your leg somewhere, that’s because I want it in that position. Now put it back quickly."

I did as he said, and returned my foot back to the floor, thus allowing him a clear view of my crotch. Then I felt his hand on my other ankle, and he was lifting that one up over the back of the settee! Now I was not just open, but spread wide. I could here him clicking away, but Les was keeping me busy with his French kissing.

"Ok Les, let her get up now."

As soon as I heard him, I pulled my leg from off the back of the settee, and pulled myself free from Les.

"Right Sandi, how do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you see that rack of costumes; I’d like to get all of them done before we go. So the less mucking about, the sooner we get finished. We’ve put up a little screen in the corner of the room; it will save loads of time if you get changed behind it, instead of going out to your bedroom. If you start at one end of the rack, taking a costume, and then when you’re changed, put the one you’ve just been wearing back at the other end of the rack. There’s five different poses that I want to see you model, with each costume. When you’ve got the first one on, just come out here and I’ll talk you through the different poses. Oh here’s that masquerade mask, just slip the elastic around the back of your head to keep it in place."

I took the mask, put it on, collected a costume from the end of the rack, and went behind the screen. I started stripping the first costume off, but I was having to be very careful, as this little screen they’d set-up was only about a metre wide, and provided cover from about two feet off the floor, up to about shoulder height. I’d soon pulled the one costume off, and the next one on. As I walk from the screen, he was kneeling to one side, and he took my picture.

"Very nice. That’s one of the poses done. That was the full costume front view. See that's this shot."

He showed me a small printed card, the type that is used to accompany the costumes on the display stand. This card was about 5 by 8 photo size. On the left top side where he was pointing, was a full body front facing picture of a girl wearing bra and panties. To the right was the same type of shot taken from behind. Then under these two larger pictures were three little square pictures, maybe about one and a half inches square. Then below this was the printed description of the item for sale.

The three little pictures were all close-up shots. One taken from the front low down, models legs parted, showing details of the gusset. Next was taken from the same low down position, but showing the view from behind, and the model was bending forwards, legs still parted. The last was the bust, model leaning forward, showing in this case, her nipples as they pushed over the top of the half cup bra.

"God!"

"What’s wrong?"

"The pictures. Do they need to be so close-up?"

"What’s wrong with them? All the gear you were looking at in my shop had display cards like that."

I guess now he’d said that, I think they did. But you just glance at them to see how much the knickers cover up, and never think some poor girl has had to model for the picture.

"I suppose so; I just never thought you’d want pictures like that."

"Well it’s not much point taking your picture in a rain coat if I’m selling swimming costumes."

"No it’s just the close-ups of the panties, I never thought."

"But did you think they looked over-the-top when you were in my shop this morning?"

"I guess not."

"And did you use the close-up insets to tell you what style of knickers you were looking at?"

"I suppose so."

"Well I think you’ve answered your own question. So shall we get on with the next pose?"

"I guess so."

"Now we’ll, do your crotch area taken from behind. Once we get you in position, we can also take the bust shot at the same time. So if you come over to this chair, bend forwards, and place your hands on the arms of the chair, with your legs slightly apart. Here, I’ll place a couple of coins on the floor, stand with the balls of your feet, one on each coin."

I walked to where he’d put the two coins, putting one foot on top of each coin. My legs were spread about two feet apart, and about two feet away from the chair.

"That’s good. Now bend forward, hands on the chair arms."

I leaned forwards, placing my hands where he’d said. This felt a very revealing pose to take.

"Ok Les, do you want to have a quick look before I take my picture?"

Les didn’t answer, but I saw him dive down onto the floor behind me, and I could feel his hot breath on the cheeks of my bottom.

"Ok, let’s get my shot, we’ve got loads more of these to get through, and some of the others will be a lot more interesting."

Once again Les didn’t answer, but he got up and stood to one side out of camera shot. Ted took two or three shots, and then he came around and stood behind the chair back, facing me.

"Ok head up out of the way, push your bust out."

I lifted my head, heaved my bust forward, and he clicked away taking several shots.

"That’s a shame."

"What’s wrong?"

"I’d hoped you’d get aroused when Les got down close to your crotch. Never mind, we’ll do the front crotch shot; maybe that will stir up some action. Ok you can get up now."

I stood up, and he walked around to the front of the chair.

"Right seeing as we’ve got that lovely big chesterfield, the best way to do this, is for you to pop your bottom onto the edge of the seat, dead centre of the settee. I’ll tuck a load of cushions behind your back; you lie back and get comfortable. Then lift your legs as wide as you can. I don’t suppose you can get your legs to full splits?"

"Are you serious? The picture you just showed me wasn’t taken with her legs that wide."

"I know, I complained to the agency about her, she was supposed to be a genuine pro, but she was useless. Anyway, let’s get you in position."

He held my hand and took me across to my settee, and as I sat my bottom right to the front of the centre, he placed cushions behind my back, until I could lie backwards fully supported. My legs were still dangling on the floor in front of me.

"Ok Sandi; now let’s see just how wide you can get your legs."

I spread my legs until my feet were on the floor about four feet apart.

"Is that it? Surely you can get them wider, or at least lift them up higher."

I didn’t answer, but I lifted my feet from the floor, and tried to hold them at about a foot high.

"Hang on; let your feet down a minute."

As I let my feet drop to the floor, he walked across the room, took hold of a dining room chair. He brought it across, and placed it at one end of the settee, facing it inwards towards the centre. Then he turned, and fetched a second chair which he placed the other end, in a mirror image position.

"Ok girl, let’s have your left foot."

As he spoke, he bent down, taking hold of my ankle, and helping me to spread my leg, and resting it up on the seat of the chair.

"Ok next one."

He now took hold of the other ankle, placing it on the other chair, thus spreading my feet at least six feet apart, and stretching my crotch fully open.

"There, that’s more like it. What do you think Les?"

"Is this really necessary? It’s so embarrassing."

"Well I don’t know if it’s necessary or not, but she looks fucking amazing with her pussy spread open like that. She’s given me a fucking hard."

"Well it looks like Les likes it. And yes it is necessary. I hope we’re not going to get you being all prudish at every new pose I put you in? If this is what this session is going to be like, maybe we should give up now?"

"No please. I’ll do it."

"Ok I still want you aroused for the bust picture; I need your nipples to be pushing the costume. I’ll let Les kneel down and get a close look at your crotch, maybe that will excite you."

I didn’t reply, and next second Les was kneeling on the floor, his face inches away from my crotch, instead of it exciting me, I was feeling scared, and thought I’d pee myself.

"Hey Ted, I can smell her cunt."

"No need for that kind of language. Ok Les, I think you might as well get up now, its not having the desired effect. I’ll get some crotch shots, then we’ll have to try another method to excite her."

Les moved away, Ted started shooting, and took maybe six pictures, all very close-up.

"Are you very nervous?"

"Y yes."

"What is it, having your legs open?"

"Yes, it’s so embarrassing."

"Come on then, we’ll try another way."

As he spoke, he was lifting my legs back to the floor. He then helped me to my feet, pushed the cushions along the settee, and sat himself down in the middle. He was still holding my hand, and he pulled me back to sit on his knee.

"Ok, your legs are closed, and nobody is going to hurt you. But I need you excited, aroused, or what ever you want to call it. We can kiss, I can stroke your legs, I can stroke or suck on your nipples, it’s your choice. But one way or another, I want your nipples to be standing proud. So let’s be grownup about this, you’re not a little girl, you know what turns you on."

"I guess if you stroke my breasts on the outside of the costume, it will do what you want."

"Good girl. Like this."

He was using the palm of his hand, and gently stroking across first one breast then the other. I’d expected my nipples to perk-up instantly, but although it was sending shock waves down my navel, my nipples remained soft. He now had my breast cupped in his hand, and was gently squeezing on my nipples.

"Oh god! Ah ooh."

This made me squirm on his knee, and the shock waves got intense, but my nipples remained soft. He continued for at least five minutes, but although I was boiling up in my lower tummy, my nipples refused to cooperate.

"Well my dear, looks like we need to go one step further. Would you like me to start sucking on your nipples through the costume, or if not I can get Les to stroke your legs?"

I didn’t want him sucking my nipples, but I wasn’t sure exactly what Les stroking my legs meant.

"Where exactly do you want him to Stroke?"

"Just part them slightly, and let him stroke you around stocking top height."

"If I let you do this, you promise he won’t just grab me in between my legs?"

"Come-on Sandi, don’t be silly. We’re here to get some pictures, the sooner we can get you worked up; the sooner we’ll get this job done. But just for you. Ok Les, you heard her, the idea is to get her worked up, and I’ll keep working on her tits. You stroke her legs, but only on the flesh that her costume doesn’t cover, no going inside, or stroking the gusset. Ok Sandi, are you happy to go for it?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Come-on lets get you more comfortable."

He sat up, lifting me with him, and turned around laying me back along the settee. Then he kneeled alongside my upper body, and started back on my breasts. I was about to question this new position that they had now got me into, but Ted intercepted my words, by gently placing a single finger on my lips, and whispering.

"Ah. Ah! Just lie back, and once we get you aroused, we can get back to taking pictures."

He then resumed his manipulation of my breasts, and at the same time, I felt Les putting one of his hands on the inside of my knee. I opened my legs to let him stroke me. As his hand cupped my knee, he pulled my leg towards himself, and off the edge of the settee, letting my foot drop to the floor. This opened my legs wider than I’d anticipated, but although I didn’t like how far this was going, I made no objection. Now with Ted using two hands to work both my breasts, and Les stroking around my leg, and his hand getting ever higher, the feelings of anxiety were building to a climax.

Then as Les’s hand reached the top of my leg, he used his free hand to lift my left leg from the settee cushion, up onto the top of the settee back, spreading me wide. The fear was now so intense I once again was worried that I would pee in my costume. I felt his finger to one side of the gusset of the costume. It was on my flesh to the side of my mound of public hair. He slowly drew it down, following the outside edge of the gusset. The gusset material tapered from covering up my mound at the front, to a narrow ribbon that rested in the crevice of my bottom. So with my legs stretched wide apart, as his finger traced the edge of the costume, it rubbed the outer lip of my pussy. Then as he touched the perimeter of my hole, the terror suddenly turned into a rush of excitement. My hips gave an instinctive jerk up and forwards, this forced his fingers inside my costume, and it entered my pussy.