Lara’s Story

MF (consensual)

By Kim Couples

Copyright 2003

(You’ll find more stories on my website at asstr.org. Just choose ‘Authors’ from, the drop down box at the top right of the index page and select ‘K’ for Kim at the bottom of the first page that appears.)

We are in her tiny suburban garden. Her husband is away for the afternoon, but he knows about our meeting and its purpose. We talk about plants and seasons and birds, but we both know that it’s just to build the bond between us as she prepares to share her intimate story for the first time.

Once inside she begins with the photographs. Some are in an album but she produces about 10 others from a worn envelope. She takes me through shots of young men and women shopping and seated around hotel swimming pools, in restaurants and singing together on the coach. They are all the kind of photographs you might show your mother. There’s no hint of what really happened that summer but she needs them to show me the players and some of settings for her story.

It was nearly 10 years ago now, but it’s obvious that Lara has relived the journey in her mind many times. She speaks without hesitating over places or names. At times she smiles, even laughs, but there’s no doubt about what the journey meant to her.

She settles on her sofa and hands me a glass of wine as she says, "My husband only knows fragments of the story. The rest is no secret; we share everything, but at first he didn’t seem interested. We’ve been married eight years and now it excites him whenever I mention it. He’s asked me to tell him the full story but I want to tell it well and let him savour it if he wants to. That’s why I called you. Write it for me and it’ll be my gift to him. You can publish it as long as you disguise the identities of all the people I mention." She waits for a nod of agreement and begins.

As you know, the trip was a graduation present. I was 23 and I’d never been out of the state before so to visit so many countries would have been a turning point in my life anyway. I chose it myself - 14 days with a bunch of other young people and five countries of Europe. I could have chosen to look at monuments on my own, but I wanted the other people. What I really wanted was sexual freedom. Simple as that.

I wasn’t a virgin but my experience didn’t count for much. I let a guy I’d known for a few months do it to me - mostly because I wanted to know what it was like. Well, he was quick – both times, I’ll say that for him. (The smile is barely visible.) My girlfriends used to go on about how exciting sex was. I just listened but I would take their conversations away in my head and go to sleep fantasising about adventurous, lustful sex. It never came to anything. I was living at home all through college and my parents were loving but conservative; smothering really. They thought themselves quite modern and open, but it wasn’t really true. My yearning for sexual freedom wasn’t so much rebellion, as a need to live life fully.

So it was quite deliberate. I bought condoms from a vending machine a few nights before the tour – a good supply. I was very nervous and later I nearly ditched them when I worried that they might be discovered by some customs officer and held up for everyone to see.

I kept thinking of the condoms as I boarded the coach in Milan and met the people I’d be travelling with. Those little packets were the first tangible evidence of my emancipation. I even fretted that I might introduce myself as Lara Condom or tell a waiter in front of everyone, "I’ll just have the condom thanks". But it was damned exciting just having them there. (She looks up at me for the first time and smiles.)

I got to know Megan and Jason when they sat next to me in a restaurant in Nice. Married. That was a disappointment. But I liked them immediately Really lively, both of them and very English in a charming sort of way. They were partners in a P.R. firm in London and a few years older but didn’t patronise me. I would have been a bit sensitive about that.

We all ambled down to the beach that first afternoon and I was nervous, because going topless at Nice was my second big goal after buying the condoms. I managed to lead a small group of us down to the end where there’s a wall so that that we’d be less visible to people on the Promenade des Anglaise. I’d decided I’d do it if the other women did. And they did, or most of them. Megan didn’t hesitate, which surprised me. And she had beautiful, slightly tanned breasts - elegant really, like the rest of her. The Australian guys, especially, kept making excuses to be around her. When they finally drifted away to look for more variety, I took a deep breath and slipped my blouse, bra and skirt off and sat there on the pebbles in just my bikini knickers. Most of all, I think I wanted to impress Jason with how worldly I was. He looked so gorgeous and tanned and unattainable. He glanced several times but he was a real gentleman about it. At first, I focused on the parasailing to avoid people’s eyes but eventually it became a joy. I remember looking up to the blue sky and my braids hanging over my bare back. At last my breasts were in the open air. And I was so proud that all those people I didn’t know could see them.

Lawrence joined the tour before we reached Spain and he got on with a beaming smile that suggested he knew we’d all been looking forward to meeting him. It put me off. Too confident.

I’d been sitting with a guy from South Africa through most of the second day. Interesting accent - gentle with good manners, like Jason. Easy to talk to, but not the kind of man that passionate nights are made of.

That second night, I was lying awake in my hotel room wondering if my wonderful, liberating adventure might turn out to be as exciting as my geology field trips. I ran through the candidates I’d met or seen so far and there was no one. Perhaps I’d compromise and invite Gerry the South African into my bed after all. I’d hoped to sleep but the tooting of horns and the occasional yells from tipsy tourists around the swimming pool kept me absorbed in my failure to become a liberated woman.

The tour guide allocated the rooms in alphabetical order, which meant that my room that night, and every night, was next to Jason and Megan’s. I began to wonder what their room looked like, then what they were doing. I began to imagine them naked and Jason exciting her with his tongue. (My girlfriends had told me about that, and how arousing it can be.) I pictured her holding his head, then them kissing and being joined together with her legs wrapped around him. Hell, I was turned on and absolutely sure that I wasn’t taking the condoms home.

I changed my mind about Lawrence on a charter yacht the next morning. He was Canadian and an experienced sailor, or so he said, but he didn’t take over and show us how clever he was, as I’d expected him to. There were only three of us, and the skipper seemed happy to hand over to anyone who wanted to steer or handle the ropes. We talked about all kinds of things while I steered and he only gave advice when I asked for it. I remember him taking his shirt off to dive in and I was tantalised by the sight of him. Suddenly I wanted him. He was not quite what I’d imagined my holiday partner to be, but as far as I could tell, he was interested in me. I’d decided that I liked his ponytail and thought it complemented my braids. I was suddenly swept away with the thought that we were a couple, well a pair anyway.

When he climbed back on board I was sunbathing face-down, but topless, on the deck. It sounds easy now, but I was nervous and the wooden deck was far too hot.

He lay down beside me and I can remember how the conversation went.

"Don’t get sunburnt."

"I won’t."

"You look sexy like that."

"You can’t see anything!"

"Yes I can, the shoulders, back, shapely hips and slim legs of a beautiful young woman."

"Flatterer!" But I grinned at him and he smiled back. We were flirting. I took a deep breath and sat in front him while I put my bikini bra back on. His eyes flicked down but he said nothing.

As we shopped for mementos, the regular touches, the confidential whispers, even an arm around me at one stage, had my heart thumping. I had thought of hinting that he should spend that night with me, but now I was picturing us together on the bed in the afternoon sunlight.

When I finally said them, the words came out in a kind of breathless, strangled way. "Let’s go back to the hotel." It was innocent on the face of it, but enough.

We took a cab and sat almost in silence. I wanted to take the lead, to take a man to my bed on my terms, but couldn’t think of anything to say. It was slow trip.

I don’t remember him paying the driver or even going into the foyer. It was all a blur. As we passed the elevators, one opened next to us. I touched his arm and led him into it. The doors seemed to close in slow motion and we just looked at the lights, like strangers, until our floor.

I gave him orange juice, partly because I didn’t want beer on his breath if we did it. Each time the conversation stopped I’d take a sip. Then I realised that he was manipulating me. He knew how nervous I was and he would stop simply to make me finish my drink. But I’d been the nervous, passive partner before and it was not part of my fantasy. I wanted to seduce him. I remember my next words clearly but at the time it was as if someone else were saying them.

"Cards on the table." That got his attention!

"Sure."

"Do you want to?" I nodded at the bed.

"Yes I do." He seemed quite relaxed. "Now?"

"Yes."

I’ll give you some details, for my husband’s sake really. Men like that stuff. My husband keeps saying, ‘Tell me more, what happened next? What did it feel like?’ I’m ready to tell him now.

We stood and Lawrence held me close. I could feel him swelling against me. It was exciting but I was worried that he was going to ask me if it was my first time. He began undoing my buttons. "I hoped you’d want to." That’s all he said for a while. He just slipped my blouse off, then my bra and bent down to kiss my breasts. I was tingling inside and desperately wanted to see him, you know, all hard – because he was; I could see it though his jeans. I wanted to undo his belt, the way I’d planned but he did everything, except my panties.

I’d never seen a man even naked before, let alone aroused by me. My first encounter with a man had been under the blankets and very furtive, though I realised how much I enjoyed the touch of a male body. Lawrence was big and it was sticking straight out – bigger than my young date’s. Much bigger. I was anxious about getting it in, but hell, it was thrilling too. I couldn’t take my eyes off it and he reached my hand and put it on. I’ll never forget it or what I said next: "Don’t just screw me; do it properly" - like I thought he wasn’t much of a lover. He just nodded.

It was pretty much as I’d hoped. He ripped the top sheet and blankets off the bed - which was great. I tried to put the condom on him but he took over; then he massaged me. I hadn’t expected that, but it was lovely and I got to see plenty of him. His tongue was magic. No orgasm, but after a few minutes I was wet and tingly.

He slid in very gently and it took a while to get used to him filling me so much but he just lay there inside me for a bit. Then we did it. No kissing or anything like that - well, we weren’t lovers, just a man and a woman enjoying each other’s bodies. Please try to include that bit. My husband and I love that idea. Anyway, it was very sweaty and liberating. I felt I was doing it to him some of the time and other times I just lay there and let him go for it – but it was my choice. He turned me over so that my hands were on the headboard and I remember turning back with a quizzical look - well it was all very new - just before he sank into me from behind. I think we were quite noisy. He came out of me without climaxing and we both worked on my body. It was a miracle – a wonderful little orgasm, with a man. Not bad for a beginner.

It was almost unbelievably different from my first experience. So considerate. He even lay beside me while I recovered and I felt so good about him I wanted him to fill me and stroke me hard till he came.

"How do you want it?" I was assuming that being a man he couldn’t wait much longer.

"Over like this." He turned me over on my side and came in. I’ve liked that position ever since – especially when a man reaches over and holds my breast. We went for it together, thrusting and panting and I was laughing with the freedom and excitement.

We cuddled there until we thought the others would be in the restaurant and start to speculate on whether we were together. We made sure we arrived separately but I think Megan and Jason knew.

I’d persuaded him that we should sit apart on the coach and in restaurants, so for the next few days we had very little to do with each other. No one would have guessed, or seen our tiny smiles as our eyes met. To this day I don’t know why it had to be such a big secret, but perhaps I was trying to create a bit of distance.

Everyone was young and the guys especially were very frisky. I got a bit sick of it sometimes. They could be quite crude in the their comments and they tied to turn our time in Amsterdam into a sex tour. They’d start poker and drinking games that got people talking about private stuff and organised a visit to the red light district. By the second sex shop Megan and Jason and Lawrence and I decided to leave them to it and took a tram over to Jordaan for coffee and that Dutch beer under one of those big outdoor umbrellas.

I remember what Megan said while we were waiting for the drinks. "It’s not my idea of sex." She’d never mentioned sex before. She’d been horrified by the sight of the women in the windows of the brothels but hadn’t said anything at the time. "It’s so commercial, so cold."

I said, "I agree," and Jason smiled in an approving way. My heart was racing. I couldn’t explain it and I heard myself almost whispering. "There should be love or a bond…" Maybe Lawrence thought I was a hypocrite.

Megan looked across her coffee and said, "Love’s best, but I don’t see why even a one night stand couldn’t be affectionate. I’d say that above all it should be sensual – and safe." I was stunned by her attitude. I’d assumed that the Englishness meant she was conservative, though she’d said nothing to suggest it and she had gone topless at Nice. Jason too was a surprise. The relaxed expression on his face suggested we were talking about art or the kind of car we prefer. Then came the words that were to churn over and over in my mind for more than a week: "We have a special place for sensuality in the bottom of our garden," she said. "There are huge oak trees and reeds and it’s very private. We call it the Summer Garden. It’s been ‘clothes optional’ for years and it’s the best garden of them all – especially for making love. Sometimes we have sex there. It’s wonderfully sensual isn’t it darling?" He nodded thoughtfully.

Saturday morning in Amsterdam was very special. Jason came with me for a cruise along the canals. I’d never enjoyed sightseeing so much. The boat was packed with tourists and our bodies were touching throughout. I could feel the heat of him. At times he would whisper with his head so close I could feel his breath on my cheek and neck. It was a wonderful, playful intimacy. I decided that my infatuation with him was both physical and emotional. It’s not so much that I wanted him, but a man like him. That was just being realistic. Despite his warmth towards me, he was as unattainable as ever – off limits, and I accepted that. We bought ice creams and wandered back to the hotel, dodging trams and aggressive cyclists.

Most of our party were booked into the Pulitzer Hotel and I had a room overlooking the water. I was enjoying the view so much I didn’t join Megan and Jason to hear the string quartet in the hotel foyer that night. Lawrence had been there but left early and when he knocked quietly on my door around nine I was still looking out, thinking about home. "I told them I’d come and check on you," he said and he held me from behind as we looked out over the lights.

As he was inside me on the bed, we heard Jason and Megan’s door close, and their laughter. A couple of minutes later, no more than that; the unmistakeable sounds of lovemaking. Lawrence stopped and we lay there in silence, listening to the rhythmic thump of the bed or headboard, or whatever it was. I was partly embarrassed, partly excited. I began to imagine being in there. The thought of Jason naked and hard, hit me in the stomach and I grabbed Lawrence’s hips to urge him to thrust into me. He was picturing Megan; I could sense it. He’d had the American; now he fancied the demure and sensual Englishwoman. I wasn’t annoyed. With the thoughts racing in my head, I couldn’t be, could I? I just whispered, "Bet you’d like to be in there." He stiffened inside me. So I was right. "She’s beautiful isn’t she."

"So are you."

"Do you like her breasts?"

"I haven’t seen them."

"Stop pretending to be a gentleman. Anyway, I have."

"Where?"

"Before you joined us. On the beach at Nice. That’s the price you pay for being late. They’re firm, with lovely brown nipples - gorgeous."

"So are yours." He was stroking me hard now and obviously didn’t want to talk.

"Shall we give them a sound show too?"

"Maybe in a minute. Listen to them at it."

"Bet you’d like to do it with her." He was incredibly hard and thrusting deep into me.

"I’m with you."

"I’ll bet she’d enjoy you, filling her up, stroking her like this." I was grinning up at him, loving the effect it was having on us both.

"And Jason would enjoy doing it with you. I know he fancies you."

"Do you think so"

"Yes, it’s obvious"

"Is it….Shall we ask them?"

He smiled to confirm that it was a silly suggestion and from then on we just did it. I was thinking of Jason half the time. Before long we were sweaty and the beds were rocking on both sides of the thin wall. I kept crying out and gasping. It was mostly theatre, but something only a liberated woman could do.

In the morning, it was as if the delights of the night before had been a dream. Lawrence had gone back to his own room around midnight and I heard nothing through the wall.

Even at breakfast Megan and Jason were just as they always were - no hint of any special understanding or shared experience, other than the tour.

But in the hotel in Hanover, Megan caught me up on the stairs and said, "You must come down to see us in the country when this is over. My parents will be in Greece but stay with us before you fly home. Come and share the Summer Garden if you like."

"I’d love to."

"Would Lawrence like to come? Should I ask him?"

The rest of the tour was fun. I got to know several others from Canada and Singapore and Australia. Lawrence was part of our special group some of the time, and there was Megan and Jason, of course. So during most of the stops, about 15 of us spent all the time we could exploring and shopping and in restaurants and the night clubs of Copenhagen. I still write to some of them. Those remaining days are not really part of my story, but Megan’s invitation and our weekend in the country rounds it off in a way I think my husband will find satisfying.

I remember the feeling as we saw the house for the first time.

Lawrence was driving; he’d driven in Britain before so it seemed only sensible. We stopped talking the moment we turned into the entrance.

It was grand. Not exactly a stately home, but big - big lawns, trees, oak trees, dotted everywhere. We didn’t say anything all the way up to the steps. I think we were both trying to tell each other that it’s what we were used to at home. There was a lot of rivalry between us by that stage – tense man-woman stuff, not very mature. There’d been some unexplained coolness between us in the last days of the tour, but I was still pleased that he wanted to come.

I was satisfied with my adventure. I hadn’t intended to have sex with everyone on the coach. It wasn’t about numbers. I’d just wanted the freedom to be uninhibited, to take charge sometimes - to be a woman enjoying her sexuality. And I’d done that.

But as we drove up the drive, hugged Jason and Megan again and joined them for drinks overlooking what they called the Trafalgar Lawn, my mind was drifting into fantasy. I’m a very visual person and the picture I’d created of the two of them together in the Summer Garden was vivid and distracting. I was torn between the excitement of seeing Jason naked, maybe all of us stripped off, and the obvious question, ‘What does it matter?’ An odd roller coaster of feelings really. Lawrence hadn’t said anything but I think he had hopes of seeing Megan as the sensual nude - and perhaps me too, for the last time.

Megan was delightful. Jason seemed as relaxed as ever but I could feel his eyes were on me. I didn’t think I was saying anything very profound. As far as I could tell they were entirely alone in that huge place. There were staff, including a gardener but none of them worked in the weekend.

Then around midday, a crushing blow. Jed arrived. Jed was a local. He was obviously very close to Jason and Megan, but I hated him interrupting us and was desperate for him to go. Instead, he stayed for lunch out on the terrace. He was a pleasant enough young man, softly spoken and athletic but he had a peculiar hairstyle - if you can call it that. He’d had the back and sides shaved and kept a mat of short hair on top. But that eccentricity and his rural accent had no effect on his relationship with Megan and Jason and they seemed thrilled to see him. In the conversation it emerged that his partner had died about a year before and that they’d both been regular visitors to the house over several years before that. He certainly looked very much at home. Too relaxed for someone about to leave.

We had been sitting there sipping wine for about half an hour when Megan suddenly asked. "Who’s coming down to the Summer Garden?" Naturally, I’d given up any hopes of sensuous nakedness since Jed had come, but thought I’d at least like to see it.

It was smaller than I’d imagined but like a private world, just as Megan had described it.

Jason had brought a sheet, two more bottles of wine and plastic cups and we arranged ourselves on the short grass near the reeds at the edge of the pond. It was hot, even in the shade of the oak tree.

I began to revive as my disappointment faded. Perhaps the wine helped, but it was mid-summer and tranquil and I was with friends, far from home and engaged in one of those easy conversations you remember only for the occasion.

Then a turning point. It’s a blur of images and snippets of conversation now, but I’ll try to recapture the essence of what happened.

Jed had taken off his shirt and Megan sat up. As she said something about their apartment in London, she peeled off her top and sat there in her bra. Lawrence was trying to look casual. So was I.

Next she said something like, "It’s a relief to get away at the end of each week." She reached behind and unclasped the bra and released it. I shot a look at Lawrence. Sure enough, he was transfixed.

Megan didn’t even pause. "Both of us are working 12 hour days so that we can get a three day weekend." She was removing her skirt and I was excited to see that Jason was now removing his shirt.

So she was carrying on the conversation as if stripping off in broad daylight is a perfectly normal thing to do. "We’ve had the house to ourselves most weekends." That’s what she said as she slipped off her panties, "My parents are away on business a lot." She propped herself back on her hands, naked, with her elegant breasts pushed out towards the sunlight for anyone to see. Jason stood and removed his jeans and I looked up. I wasn’t bothering to fake disinterest anymore. It wasn’t that he was a paradigm of manhood. He was just a charming, handsome, lovely man and I wanted desperately to know his whole body – I don’t quite know why it was so important. Everything came off without a pause and he smiled and lay next to Megan.

Lawrence looked to me, and for some reason, reached under my skirt and I raised my hips as he eased my panties off. Well naturally, it was all on then. Clothes were being tossed aside all around us. I undid his belt; then it was skirt, jeans, boxers – the lot. Even Jed. It was exciting, wonderful and sensual with the warmth and stillness like that.

Perhaps it was the combination of heat and more wine. Perhaps it was the realisation that I was now nude with three men, but I felt totally alive, energised, and desperate for something even more outrageous to happen. In a moment of silence I blurted out, "In Amsterdam we heard you making love – through the wall."

"We could hear you two as well."

Then Jason, who was just lying back, looking up at the leaves, said, "We could hear your bed going thump, thump, thump – it was pretty obvious. Were we loud?"

"Only the laughter. It sounded like fun."

I could tell that Jed was fascinated - probably wondering if he should be hearing all this. Then after a little gap in the conversation I said, "Lawrence wanted to be with Megan. He was having fantasies about her."

"And you wanted to be with Jason. You told me."

No reaction from Megan or Jason. I assumed they were shocked. I wished I hadn’t said it and I was furious with Lawrence for making my indiscretion so much worse. But that whole holiday had been full of surprises. Without a word to her husband, Megan moved over to Lawrence, produced a condom from somewhere, and with a smile, slipped it on his instant erection and eased him into her.

I turned back to see Jason with a questioning look on his face – as if he had to ask. I half nodded and made a strange sound that was meant to be ‘yes’. He spent far too long reaching for another condom. I left him to put it on and expected him to slide into me. My heart was pounding, my throat dry. Instead, he began a slow and sensual game – teasing me, knowing, surely, that I was ready. He began with my feet; kissing, sucking my toes, massaging my legs, my arms, my breasts, sucking the nipples, seemingly absorbed by the sight and touch of my skin. I could feel him hard against me. I was aching for him. I just wanted him there, filling me. Hell, it was exciting. I’d lost track of Jed but he was there, stroking himself about a foot away from my head. I was ready for anything now and reached up. Jed let me take over and I felt wonderfully, deliriously, wanton. Jason’s tongue and fingers took me to the edge, held me there in ecstasy till the climax was inevitable. I remember realising that it was my first open-air orgasm.

I was vaguely aware of Megan and Lawrence. I remember Megan saying something to Jed and he pulled away from me and I heard the three of them exchanging the muffled sounds of lovers.

Jason was poised over me, then touching me at my entrance, then sliding in slowly, filling me, looking down to me without a word. I drew him close and felt the joy of complete union. The man I had admired, felt so close to and who seemed so unattainable, was inside me, stroking me, kissing my neck and breasts in delight.

As I turned over to give him new pleasure, I could see Megan gently directing Jed and Lawrence’s performance. She looked over to Jason, obviously pleased to see us enjoying each other.

My husband would probably like me to describe every intimate detail of that afternoon, but of course it would be a fiction. I simply can’t remember, and don’t want to. It wasn’t a series of positions, but an expression of excitement and delight with each other. Incidents, couplings, words, even the peaks of pleasure, flow together in my memory.

There is one exception; one final flourish that I’ll always remember. Jason and I were almost exhausted, yet there we were, working towards what we both knew would be our last peak of pleasure together; knowing that once our bodies were separated, it might be forever. We were absorbed in the panting, the thrusting, the grimaces and cries of pleasure - cut off from the world. Our slippery bodies coupled with an energy that went far beyond my early imaginings. It was lustful, that’s true, but also intensely affectionate. I can picture him now, panting hard as he thrust into me again and again; then for some reason we decided to change positions and there was a desperate scramble to get him back into me. We were spooned, gasping together. I came first, with a little help from my own hand. I heard the long final breath before his peak, felt him thrust deep, lie still and clamp my breast as he spurted inside me. We lay side by side until he slipped out.

I remember snatches of conversation around us; the sound of Megan panting in orgasm, Jed’s curse of disappointment when a climax came too early and the long silence after all our bodies were spent and we lay back in that dreamy state looking up once more at the light through the oak leaves. I remember Megan bringing us back from our drifting thoughts with an exaggerated sigh of contentment and the words, "Isn’t having sex together absolutely wonderful?"

When the afternoon cooled and our nakedness was no longer sensual, we half-dressed and walked to the house with Megan and I wrapped in the sheet.

Our meal together that night was memorable for the warmth between us. Jed left in the early evening and I discovered Jason’s cello in the music room. It led to a treat that seemed entirely appropriate for a sensual day. He took it to the terrace and urged Megan and I to go to the swing chair in the Trafalgar Garden. As we sat there, arm in arm, he began to play ‘The Swan’ by Saint Saens. That graceful, undulating tune drifted through the still air while we sat immobile with me, at least, absorbed in his intensity with the instrument and the knowledge that our day of special memories was almost at an end.

I met Lawrence coming out of the guests’ bathroom. He held out his arms and we cuddled without saying a word, then separated and slept alone.

I caught my flight from Heathrow early the next evening. Lawrence returned to Canada, but only briefly. The card he promised me didn’t arrive till the following summer, and from Zimbabwe. We moved a couple of times since then so I guess I’ll never hear from him now.

I still write to Megan and Jason. Usually, just a letter slipped into a Christmas card, full of facts about the year past, sometimes with a photograph and always accompanied by the hope that we might meet again.