Chapter 1. On the beach

Saturday 10th May 2003

Part 3

Roger took me into his arms and I felt him unzipping my dress. I dropped my arms so it fell to the floor. I then wrapped them round his neck again our lips crushing each other’s and our tongues intertwining. Roger slipped his thumbs into the top of my knickers and pushed them down my legs. I kicked them off when they fell to my ankles.


As we lay together on the bed, Roger’s mouth switched from my lips to my nipples to my neck. When he wasn’t nibbling my nipples his fingers were tweaking them. My whole body was screaming for his touch. He took my hand and placed it on his cock. I fondled it, feeling it harden. I asked him to be gentle as I’d never done this before.


“Never?”


“Never.”


“You don’t have to do anything now if you don’t want to.”


“I want to, I’m just scared of it hurting.”


“I won’t hurt you. We’ll take it one step at a time. Tell me if you want to stop.”


He climbed on top of me and pressed his prick between my legs and started to slide backwards and forwards. I squeezed my thighs together as his rhythm increased. Then I felt his cum squirt over my thighs and I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him tightly against me.


After cleaning ourselves up we lay there smoking. I was wearing a red nightdress Roger had bought for me in Debenhams.


“You really like being treated as a woman and being seen as one, don’t you?”


“Yes. It’s not just wearing clothes – it simply feels totally right when I do.”


“And I like treating you as one. I’ve enjoyed your company today. Do you have to go back to London? Can’t you stay longer?”


“I’d love to, but I’ve got work on Monday so I have to go back later today.”


“So when will I see you again? Can you come back down next weekend?”


“I’d love to,” I told him. “I work late on Friday but can catch an early train Saturday morning.”


I snuggled into Roger’s arms again and eventually fell asleep when my excited thoughts finally allowed me to do so.


I woke again about five and needed the loo. I slid out of the bed and, as quietly as possible, did what I needed to do before slipping back in, trying not to wake Roger as I did so.


As I lay on my side I felt his arm slide under me and his hand fondled my nipples through the nightdress. His mouth nuzzled my neck. I pressed my bum into his crotch. Then I felt his other hand pull the hem of the nightie up around my waist before finding my anus and a finger penetrating. I felt something cold as he lubricated my entrance. I imagined I had a vagina and it was that which he was penetrating. Our movements synchronised, he increased the speed bringing us both to a climax. My whole body went into a spasm. I let out a long moan and felt totally spent.


The next day, Roger, having sorted out the car — I don’t believe there had ever been anything wrong with it — dropped me at the station.


“Promise you’ll come back next weekend,” he pleaded.


“I promise, Guides honour!” Ok, so I hadn’t been in the Guides, but in the Scouts. I wasn’t entirely sure what we had in mind for the next weekend quite fitted with ‘honour’ either.


One final kiss and I boarded the train.


Later, as the train pulled out of Woking, I reluctantly took my bag into the toilets. I, regretfully, changed back into David. I had never previously spent more than a whole day and night as Vicky. My earlier outings had been a few hours here and there.


Back at Waterloo I took the Northern Line tube to the Oval. It was then a ten minute walk down Clapham Road to my flat on the corner with Dorset Road.


Flat? Well, bedsit. I had one grotty room on the upper floor of a two-storey, flat roofed extension at the back of the original house. There was one window which was overlooked by the pub across the road and a tower block beyond. The two flats beneath were accessed by an entrance on Dorset Road immediately below my window. My motor scooter was parked in the street


The room had a bed, a cupboard, a sink and a Baby Belling cooker and a second hand television I’d bought. The corners of the room below the ceiling were damp, the wall paper was peeling off and the ill-fitting windows let in draughts. The shared bathrooms and toilets were down the corridor. I had no idea, nor cared, who lived in the other flats. For this I spent more than a third of my meagre pay.


Electricity was through a coin meter controlled by the landlord. As the property was damp and cold, it was expensive to heat. Compared to this, Roger’s semi-detached house on the northern edge of Bournemouth was a palace.


The following weekend couldn’t come quickly enough and Roger was waiting for me at the barrier at Bournemouth. He took my case from me and hugged and kissed me.


“I wasn’t sure if you’d come back.”


“Well, here I am,” I smiled, delighted at his welcome.


“Indeed you are. What do you want to do this evening?”


“I’ll give you two guesses.”


“One of those is easy, I think. What’s the second?”


“If the Blue Peach is open, I’d like to go back there.”


“It will be open later and we can do that. Do you want something to eat first? Perhaps an Indian or we can pick up a take-away.”


“Let’s go back to your place first then we can decide afterwards.”


“Afterwards?”


“After item one on the list!”


“Oh. I see. Do I get the feeling you only want me for my body?”


“Don’t blame me – you rubbed the magic lantern and unleashed the genie!”


“Vicky! I’m going to have to watch you.”


My hand went to my mouth; I hadn’t meant the double entendre. I buried my head in his shoulder to hide my embarrassment.


Back at the house, Roger poured us both a glass of sparkling wine and we sat together on the sofa in the lounge. After we’d taken a couple of sips each, I stood up, held out my hand and said “Come on.” He picked up the bottle. Holding it in the same hand as his glass, he followed me, fondling my bum, as we climbed the stairs.


We put the glasses and bottle down then came together in each other’s arms. I soon discarded my skirt and blouse with his shirt and trousers. Our underwear followed suit and we climbed beneath the sheets. As he lay on his back, I straddled him. As we climaxed, I felt my own body spasm – the shiver running down from my head to my toes. I collapsed on top of him, pressed my lips to his and kissed him as hard as possible. He hugged me so tightly I thought my ribs might crack.


“You are so fucking marvellous Vicky,” Roger gasped when we finally came up for air.


We showered together then dressed. He wasn’t impressed with some of the things I’d brought with me.


“Mmm,” he remarked dismissively. “I think you need a new wardrobe.”


I didn’t earn much and having to maintain two wardrobes wasn’t easy. Inevitably a lot of my female items were from charity shops and, I suppose, it showed.


“I can’t afford it,” I protested, “and I can’t let you buy stuff for me.”


“Why not? I can afford it and I like spending money on you.”


I knew when to give in gracefully and accepted we’d go shopping again the next day. Now it was time to head for a restaurant then the Blue Peach.


Several of the members I’d met the previous week were at the club. They seemed genuinely delighted to see me.


All too soon the weekend was over and I was back on the train to London. But not before I promised to be back again next weekend.


When I visited for the third time, Roger said he wished I would stay longer. I had leave due, so we agreed I’d come down the following month for two weeks. Each weekend seemed to fly past. By the time I got to Roger’s and we’d slaked one appetite, it would be time to go out for dinner then on to the Blue Peach. The following morning we’d be in bed until lunch time and it wasn’t long before I’d have to leave.


 Two weeks together would be marvellous.


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