Steamy-Stories

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 1 A story about religion, a young girl and original sin. By Carole_n_Nice. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. My name is Chastity. I'm 18 years old and live in a large religious community on the Arizona-Utah border in the United States. Our religious community considers ourselves to be Christians but most main stream religions view us as a sect at best. Our main difference from the more standard religions is that we believe; Eve was the first person to inhabit our earth in the Garden of Eden. She copulated with God and out of that union was born Adam. Sometime afterward, she also copulated with her son, Adam. Adam was the forbidden fruit, (Not an apple). Adam and Eve were exiled from Eden because of incest between the mother and her son. The Original sin that was committed by Eve was the seduction of her son. Within our religious group, we can go to heaven by serving a penalty.  Women are on the lowest rung of our social caste because it is our fault for being thrown out of Eden in the first place. If we do well in the immediate life, we come back as men. If we do well as a man, then we are allowed into Heaven. You can also go to heaven, (even if you are a woman), if you are awarded sainthood. This is very seldom done. There are three ranks of hierarchy within our church, (only men are allowed ranking). Elder, (the basic priesthood open to all men 18 and older). Bishop would be in charge of a group of members of about 200 families. Prelate, there are only twelve prelates. The religion allows polygamy for Bishops and Prelates. I am a small, petite girl, (5'1" 102 lbs. and a 32-A bust). I dress as all my sisters dress; a plain dress, (black, blue, grey of sometimes a small flowered pattern for special occasions). Our dresses normally fall midway between our knees and ankles. We wear a white starched apron and a fabric bonnet that lays on the hair and ties under the chin. The bonnet is sacred and mandated for all women of purity. It must be worn at all times in the presence of any man except one's husband. I live with a family of six siblings, (four brothers, a sister, and myself). I am the youngest at eighteen. My sister Prudence is also eighteen but ten months older than I am. My brothers range in age from Thomas (26), Mathew (25), Luke (23) and John (21). My father is 60 and my mother is 46. Chastity’s First Eden Rites On my eighteenth birthday, my mother gathered my sister and me for my "First Eden Rites." We follow her into my mother's bedroom and kneel to say our prayers. After about 15 minutes of prayers, my mother calls us to our feet and starts my oral exam to ensure that I am schooled and an appropriate Catechumen. "Chastity, What are you?" I nervously take a breath. I've study our bible for years and can recite it by heart. I'm still nervous but I know I'll pass.  "I am a Woman, mother."  "I created the first sin against our beloved lord and I am responsible for having us exiled from Eden." "Chastity, as a woman, how will you atone for your sins?" "Mother,  I will pray daily for our salvation, I will obey my husband, my ordained Elders and my Father in all things."  "I will work for them to be accepted into heaven and I will strive to reach the next step of reincarnated manhood." My mother smiled at me and said, "What is the Doctrine and Covenants of the Eden Conference?" I, in great detail, explain the Doctrine and Covenants of the Eden Conference. "Because women are sinners, we must obey men,"  "Because we believe in the sisterhood and the privilege of polygamy,"  "Often times there will not be enough women to be wives to all our ordained elders,"  "The Eden Conference may be called by my father, husband or an ordained Bishop, so that men may relieve themselves with us sinners."  "I am to do all things required of me during the Eden Conference and display my love for our Lord through unquestioning obedience." "Chastity," my mother said, "and what will happen tonight?" "My father will call my first Eden Conference with men of his choosing." "I will be accompanied by you into the conference and I will make you proud of me," I smile to my mother. At this point my mother has us kneel and pray again. About thirty minutes later, my final training session will begin. After prayers, my sister and I go to our closet and get our "Oral Sticks." These are smooth wooden sculptures that are shaped like a man's penis, (My sister assures me that they are quite realistic looking as I have never actually seen a man undressed.) We use these "oral sticks" as a learning tool so that we might satisfy a man with our mouths. I follow my sister's lead and take the stick into my mouth. I lick the head of it so that it glistens with my saliva. I take it tighter in my hand and I push it in and out of my mouth to simulate a man taking his pleasure inside my mouth. I suck along the shaft of the stick, ensuring my teeth never touch the smooth wood and that my lips create a suction that is supposed to stimulate a man. My mother holds a bag to the bottom of the wooden penis. I lick the two suspended balls and pump the penis with my hand as I do so. "You will do well, Chastity." "Prudence, you have been through this and have enough experience." "If you wish to leave and finish your chores, you may." My sister looks at me with questioning eyes. I know she wants to be there for me but it really isn't necessary. If I am not ready for this day by now, I never will be. I just nod to her that she may take her leave. "Thank you, Mother." Prudence puts her oral stick back and leaves for her chores. "Chastity, it is getting late." "You need to bathe and put on your Acceptance Dress." "Let us practice your self-stimulation so that you will be prepared when a man enters you." "Just do it with your dress on so we can prepare you." I nod at my mother and go to the bed. Pushing myself up to the pillows, I lay down. I reach for my long skirts and pull them up over my hips. I put my fingers into the waist band of my bloomer panties and pull them down off my legs. I bend my legs at the knees and open my legs. My hand travels across my lower tummy, below my bunched up skirt and across my mound. I open my lips and use my digit finger to find my clitoris. My finger moves across it and then underneath, Stimulating myself. My palm presses against my mound and my hips involuntarily push upward against it. I take my middle finger and lightly insert inside my vagina. My juices wet its tip showing I can make a man's way easy for him. My mother nods at me. "Daughter Chastity, you know how to do this." "This is not for your pleasure but for that of a man." "We need to go and have you shave down there so that you look like the virgin you are, and bath." "It is time for final preparation." My mother leads me to the bathroom. I am surprised that my sister has already drawn me a scented bath and left the shaving tools on top of a towel by the sink. I pick up the razor and my hand shakes. My mother laughs and grabs it from me. "I think you had better let me do the shaving." "I expect you will have enough blood between your legs after the Eden Conference," she says with a smile. "We don't need you to slice yourself up so that you need stitches." My mother washes me with hot water, first. She takes soap and applies it all over my mound and commences to shave what little hair that I have on my vagina, off. She repeats the hot water and soap several times before she has me completely bald. I have to admit it feels funny. I jump into the tub, scented with some lilac oil. My mother washes me. I am scrubbed from head to toe and it feels wonderful. Finally, it is time. My mother towels me down, and brushes my hair out. She helps me put my bloomer panties on and a very plain white bra. I help her with the dress being placed over my head, and turn for her to button the back. I look in the mirror and I am in perfectly white dress. My mom ties my apron on, hands me a bonnet that I tie under my chin and I'm ready. As we walk to the room where the Eden conference will take place, I start to get nervous again. "Mother, do you know who or how many will attend the Eden Conference," I ask. My mother shakes her head. "I don't know, really." "Your father had four at Prudence's ceremony." "I had five at mine." "When your father and I got married, I was 19 and he was 33." "His father was a Bishop and ordered an Eden Conference for our wedding night." "There were only three that night, the Bishop being one of them." "Your father loves you above all, much to his disgrace, but he does." "You are small so I suspect he will keep it to no more than three." I nodded and reached the latch on the door where the Eden Conference would occur. As the door opened, I bent my head to the floor and dropped to my knees. "What do you wish, Daughter," I heard my father say. "I wish to cleanse the conference of my sins with my body, Father, and to go onto the next level in the next life," I replied. "And what will you do in order to achieve this?" "I will obey you in all things, Father, and do you honor." He nodded and told me to raise my head. I raised my head and scanned the room. There were three men in the room, My Father, My Uncle Augustine and Prelate Matthias. My father brought a Prelate to my Eden conference! This was a great honor to our family. Prelate Matthias was 82, married with three wives over a life time. He had outlived two of them. His current wife, Sister Evangeline was the first living woman to be sainted in the last fifty years. This was a great honor indeed. "Daughter Chastity, you may take your clothes off for us," my father said. My mother immediately stepped behind me to assist with the many buttons on the back of my dress. She first removed my apron and folded it on the table. I then felt the buttons on my back being unfa

Cecily is a young woman who will get married. by Lady_Mary. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 1 I grew up in a very conservative family. My father was the boss in the family business, which was created by his father, which was my grandfather. My mother took care of the house and the children, whatever else she wanted to do the approval had to be given by my father. A wife was to be her husband’s adornment and calling card; I, my sisters and brothers were brought up with this motto. Cecily? Father is calling you. I was pulled out of the activity by the voice of one of the brothers, Arthur. I am on my way. I nod as I put my knitting aside. I run it over the fabric of my blue dress a few times to smooth it out and present myself impeccably in front of my father. My father was a traditionalist. Together with our mother they took care of our impeccable dress. Especially the girls. Our dresses, because that was all we could wear, usually reached our ankles or mid-calf. Anything shorter was inappropriate. Tights were also compulsory. My family believed that ladies from good homes should always have them.I nod in respect as I enter my father’s study. He sits in his swivel leather-covered chair, looking as perfect as ever in his suit trousers and white shirt, ironed by my mother. He said in a cordial tone, indicating a chair for me to sit down, then said;  “Mother praises you immensely, you have become a great help to her. I am extremely pleased about that.” “ Thank you, Father. Praise always makes me happy.” I said with a smile. “Therefore,” Father puts the stack of papers aside. “I thought you were mature enough to think about your household”. “My household?”  I repeated in surprise. I felt my face turn white. “This is what awaits every woman. I thought my mother and I had instilled this in you all.” The man walks around the desk and sits on its edge almost beside me so that he can brush his fingertips against my cheeks. “You are our great pride. You will be the same for your husband. Lucky him.” “So… who will it be?” I ask timidly. “You will find out in time. You will like it. Of that I am certain.” Father blinks one eyelid at me. “First the engagement and a few… procedures involved.” “Procedures?” I asked. “Your mother will prepare you. You have nothing to fear. Well… That is all. You may return to your duties, my child.” “Thank you, father.” I bow my head before I leave my father’s office. My preparations for the nuptials began almost immediately… although I did not know to whom I would be married. I also still didn’t know anything about the procedures I was to go through and my father had mentioned them. “The doctor will be with you shortly, lie still, my lady.” The maid instructed me. In fact, there was nothing wrong with me, but it was necessary for the engagement to be announced. That is what mother and one of my brothers said. So I was fulfilling a commitment. I lay in my huge bed, dressed in something like a nightdress, but much shorter than a standard one, for here the linen material ended above my knee. I didn’t wait too long as the door to my room soon opened. I saw a man with blonde hair and at first sight he was two heads taller than me. He placed his brown leather bag on the table that was next to the bed. “Lady Cecily? I’m doctor Mason. I am here to confirm your readiness for the sacrament of marriage. I understand that this is your first examination of this kind, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear.” The young doctor sent me a weak smile. “ At first, I ask you to move down toward the base of the bed and spread your legs.” “What? “ I could not believe what I had just heard. Red was on my cheeks almost immediately. “Lady Cecily. It would be far better for yourself to do it voluntarily. Neither of us wants it to be unpleasant, do we?” he warned. I obediently move down and spread my thighs. I seek solace in looking at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was decorated with hierubines that were supposed to watch over the cleanliness and good conduct of the girls. “Wider. Lady Cecily, I will have to say a word to your father and husband-to-be. None of them will be pleased.” “Excuse me… I never… “ I’m at a loss for words, but I spread my legs as he asks me. This contributes to the material of the garment falling up over my stomach and the man can now see my femininity. “It’s very nice…” I feel the touch of a stranger’s single fingers on me. In a place so carefully hidden. The blonde man takes a seat on the stool between my legs. “I can see the hymen. It is not too thin That’s good. Your spouse will be pleased with this gift. Are you sinning?” “Am I sinning?”  I ask almost in a whisper. “Have you ever touched yourself in a sinful way? In places… that you shouldn’t have? Don’t lie. I’m a representative of the church. God listens and can punish.” “No, no, never! I swear.” I plead terrified, but almost immediately I let out a shrill scream. I feel something inside me. “Relax, it’s a good sign… Your husband will have something to work on.” I watch as the doctor slides one of his fingers out of the copper.  “With God’s Grace, you will not be a less fruitful woman than your mother. Undress.” I untied the 3 bows on the front of the shirt without protest. I didn’t want my future spouse to think I was a troublemaker. I am far from it. I rose to a sitting position when asked to do so. “Considerable for such a young person, but very nice. 85d to my eye.” He affirms, squeezing both my breasts in his hand, which makes me squeal. “Sensitive… Your husband will be really happy. Have you eaten anything since yesterday?” “No, my mother told me not to eat anything after breakfast yesterday. The test could give bad results.” I look up as the man walks away towards his leather bag. He looks for something for a moment. “You have a wise mother. Kneel down politely on the floor.” I do so, but first I throw on and tie my petticoat. I see the doctor smile but say nothing for a long moment. He takes slow steps towards me with something shiny in his hand, but I can’t see what it is. “Open your mouth wide.” he ordered. I do so immediately and unexpectedly the doctor stuffs something into my mouth, sort of like a bite block that a dentist might use, and ties it at the back of my head. My mouth opens even wider, which causes a slight pain. “Take it easy. Put your hands behind your back and let them stay there.” The man sighs somewhat amused. “Now listen to me carefully. We must see how much you can take… it’s very important.” Take? I understood absolutely nothing. I wanted to talk to the man, but my mouth was opened by some metal. I could not form anything into words. I kneel impatiently as the man walks towards his bag again and firmly presses something to the wall mirror. I am unable to see it for a long moment. Then at last I see it! I have heard about this… but a long time ago I put it out of my mind. Wives had to please their husbands in many ways when they were pregnant, often doing it with their mouths, wrapping their lips tightly around the penis to please the man. The doctor came to me and helped me to stand up, leading me to a kind of test where I knelt down again, facing the mirror. “I know that the lesson programme for female marriage preparation talks about this. However, I understand that you may have forgotten. What you see is a dildo. Silicone. Here on the side.” He points his finger to the right side of the tool.  Numbers appear every few centimetres. “This will tell us what level you are starting from. Hence the spider gag in your mouth so you can get the best possible result.” I look at the man, at the reproduction of the male penis. It is so big and thick… I can’t take it. Indeed, it’s a good thing I haven’t eaten anything… although my stomach is starting to hurt just thinking about it. “Go ahead. I won’t finish this visit until you take.” I squeeze my hands together behind my back and slowly slide the dildo into my mouth. I start to choke when I feel it at the starting point of my throat and almost immediately pull my head back, causing me to cough and my eyes fill with tears. “Try again,” he orders. “I ca ca.” I want to say I can’t make it, but I can’t form any words and all doctor can hear is sobbing. “Take it easy. Many young women fail to do this properly.” The doctor kneels beside me. “I’ll push your head and hold it for a while Okay? This might hurt a little.” I nod in acknowledgement that I agree, although the truth is that he didn’t need my consent. I felt his large but gentle hands sink into my brown curly hair and after a moment he pushed my head without indicating. I’m running out of air, so my hands are almost immediately on the wall to push back. My saliva flows out of my mouth onto the floor and mixes with my tears. Soon the push subsides and I gasp loudly for air. “10 centimetres. Perfect for a start, young lady.” I feel him unbuckle the strap from the spider gag on the back of my head and pull out the dildo. “In the face of everything, I can confirm that you can marry. You can stand up, Lady Cecily.” Although I was still a little stunned, a smile appeared on my face. My parents will be proud, especially my father. “Thank you doctor and… I apologize for my behaviour.” “Nothing has happened. Fortunately, you turned out to be as obedient as you are said to be.” The man hides the instruments in his bag and pulls out a notebook. “You bleed regularly, according to your mother… The only thing I can recommend is vitamins. This will help in creating a family and in bringing new life into this world.” He speaks confidently and writes down on a piece of paper, which he seals at the end. “God bless you, young bride.” I say goodbye to the doctor, and immediately after him mother enters the chambers, before whom I bow as I did before my father to pay my respects. “The doctor has praised you. Father is delighted. So is your fiancé.” “Who is it? My fiancé?” “Daughter… These things only happ

Beautiful German Girl at the Munich October-fest. By Stonemarten, Listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories. One of my favorite things in the World is beautiful women dressed in their dirndls, which is the traditional, female dress of Bavaria and Austria. The women look amazing in their dirndls with pushed-up breasts showing ample cleavage, whereas guys in lederhosen look a bit silly really, sorry lads. Anyway, on with the story. Even though I was on my own at the festival, people are generally very friendly and merry at Oktoberfest, so it’s not too hard to join in with folk from all nationalities. I was with a group of lads from Australia, the States and some fellow Brits all trying to chat-up the incredibly beautiful German women, all looking fabulous in their dresses. They really seemed to enjoy the attention of the guys, smiling and laughing at our terrible jokes, but I guess a few liters of festival strength beer might have fueled that positive interaction. At one stage in the evening, I spotted a lovely, slender, blue-eyed girl with long, straight brown hair standing alone in a corner. She was wearing a fine quality dirndl of a burgundy satin skirt and a sage-green, laced bodice pushing-up pert little tanned breasts. She looked so pretty, but sadly she seemed to be crying. Like many guys, I have a soft spot and protective feeling for girls who are crying, so I approached her gently, excusing myself and asking in a sensitive tone if she needed any help. She had ceased crying and gave me a weak smile, so I invited her to join our group, which I was sure would cheer her up, as we were on very good form. The young woman’s name was Lilly and it was great luck finding her for she turned-out to be delightful company. Lilly was a student at the University of Heidelberg and had come to Oktoberfest with a friend, who had sadly abandoned her for a boy, leaving her alone and naturally unhappy. I was determined to look after her and keep her entertained so she would forget her troubles. The drink was flowing freely and so was the fun, as folk started to stand on tables in the beer hall sinking steins of beer straight down-in-one to the cheers of the crowd. At the encouragement of my companions and after having boasted of drinking a “yard” of beer at home, I too climbed onto our table and to the bellow of the crowd proceeded to down a liter of beer, turning the stein upside down over my head as proof it was empty. Feeling very manly and proud of myself, I gave an enthusiastic Lilly a hug and a kiss on the lips. Lilly may have been slight, but she was made of strong stuff, as she too climbed onto the table with her stein and to our surprise and to a huge roar from the crowd, proceeded to sink her beer in such a smooth and efficient manner that this would have impressed even a fat builder down the pub. I kind of fell in love with Lilly at that moment, as any girl that can do that will always have a special place in my heart. Soon Lilly and I were kissing and cuddling, somewhat rudely for public consumption since we were both very drunk. I put my strong arms around her and she held onto me tightly as we walked back to the little flat that I had rented. I bought a couple of flowers from a stall to put in her hair, which made her look so cute and as pretty as a picture. When we had entered the cozy, warm flat, we proceeded to the sofa, snogging passionately. We were both kissing and stroking each other’s adoring faces, my hands then fondling the lovely round globes that had been teasing me all evening from above her tight-laced dress. Soon my other hand had worked up under her skirt and was rubbing her moistening slit through silky panties. Lilly began to moan and reached to stroke my swelling cock trapped uncomfortably in my trousers. I moved my head down to Lilly’s pert boobs, releasing them gently from her dirndl and sucking on them with my mouth wide open, my tongue flicking her stiff little nipples. Pulling panties aside allowed my fingers to stroke her pussy lips, rubbing rapidly to and fro over her engorged clit, causing Lilly to arch her back and groan as she approached her first orgasm. Within a minute or so, this gorgeous girl was writhing and spasming as she came on my probing fingers. We both undressed, admiring each other’s firm bodies as we did so. Lilly slid her hands down my muscular frame and dropped onto her knees to envelop the head of my stiff cock into her mouth, whilst stroking up and down the thick shaft. My knees almost buckled at the pleasure of it and I stroked her face lovingly, as she looked up at me with wide, lustful eyes. I could not hold back for long and so with balls rising and pressure building to bursting point, I spurted my seed into Lilly’s mouth, onto her pretty face and then my last drops of pearly spunk sprinkling onto small, tanned boobs. This longed for release had me groaning manfully and gently cupping Lilly’s approving face. Lilly went to the bathroom and I lay down to recover my strength. When the lovely, slender girl returned, she laid back on the soft couch and opened her legs to allow easy access for my tongue to her very wet pussy. Lapping at her lips and darting my tongue over her love-bud soon had her mewling like a cat and clutching my head between her thighs. Probing in and out her with my tongue like a little wet cock, whilst flicking her sensitive clit lightly from side to side with my thumb, soon had her twisting and turning in a second huge orgasm. Laying back with my big cock pointing obscenely into the air was all the invitation Lilly needed to hop on board. Facing me, she eased down slowly, impaling her tight pussy onto my prick, moaning as she did so. Her mouth gaped in ecstasy as she bobbed up and down, my hands holding her soft bottom and I could hardly take my eyes from her lovely boobs jiggling away. Picking Lilly up and standing, I continued to pump, much to her delight, as I turned around to place her on her back, thighs wide apart, so I could continue to thrust deeply in the missionary position. I loved seeing the pleasure on her face and hearing her high-pitched yelps as I ploughed into this beautiful little creature. The pace of our lovemaking became faster and faster and more desperate at the coming explosion. Bodies slammed against one another, balls smacking against swollen lips making wet slapping sounds as we screwed like beasts. There was no holding back and with a great cry, suddenly it came, spunk splashing out in hot white streams coating the insides of a grasping and welcoming pussy which itself was contracting rhythmically in orgasm. Lying next to each other, we kissed and cuddled, then slowly drifted off to sleep. Later in the morning, we ate bread rolls for breakfast and then went back to bed for we both had terrible hangovers from a day and night of partying.It was a sad feeling when Lilly finally left that day to re-join her disloyal friend for the journey back to Heidelberg, as our fun and erotic acquaintance might have been short, but that beautiful girl had surely become one of the great lovers in my life. The mountains of Bavaria are one of my favorite places, great for walking and watching nature, which are my main hobbies. A few years ago I drove across Europe in my Jeep to stay at an Alpine chalet with the aim of finding some Edelweiss flowers and watching Chamois, which are rare mountain goats. Both of these species live high on the tops which meant strenuous climbing up into the snow zone. It’s such good exercise that German Alpine troops are encouraged to scale the mountains to find Edelweiss as proof of their fitness and courage. They used to pick them for their lapels, but today these are actually quite rare flowers and now a protected species. As I was in Bavaria in September time, I also booked accommodation in Munich in order to attend the famous Oktoberfest; yes, I know, it actually takes place in September, rather than October for some odd reason. If you have never been to the Oktoberfest, I would strongly recommend it at least once in a lifetime, as it’s an amazing party. If you don’t like crowds then it might not be for you, but if you enjoy quaffing large steins of beer, scoffing bratwurst and watching the colorful spectacle of folk dressed-up traditional costumes, you would love it. by Stonemarten, for Literotica

 A Virgin Brit On A Holiday: Part 2 The Busty Truckdriver in 1960s France. By Slowandeasy47. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The bigger adventure now began. School finished and college not starting until October, two and a half months to find out as much as I could about life and have some serious fun. I had started my long break by visiting my Tante Marise in her French chateau. She had taught me a lot, and introduced me to the joys of assisted showering, a pleasure that I have enjoyed throughout my life. As a French lady, she saw my typical Brit uptightness about human sexuality, and helped me about as much as a proper relative is allowed to. Where to go next and what to do had been the two big questions. In the 1960s travel to far off lands was not really one of my options, so I decided to head for the beaches of the northern Spanish Mediterranian coast, commonly called the Riviera. Here I could live cheaply, enjoy the weather and get a proper sun tan. Travel by air, with a tour company, was way outside my budget, but a friend had given me his hints and tips for hitch hiking long distances and now, I was in northern France planning an 800 mile hitchhike to Barcelona, or actually anywhere nearby. Barcelona had the attraction of being in a straight line from my starting point at Tante Marise's and the direct route was via only two roads so, with a bit of luck maybe, just maybe, only one or two changes of lift. My first lift was a little disappointing as it didn't even get me to Paris but the driver was pleasant enough and chatty. I supposed that life on the road could be pretty lonely and he was enjoying the company. My next was more fruitful. It was a familiar-looking British lorry which pulled up with a hiss of airbrakes and the driver, being on the rightside door as all U K vehicles are situated; directed me round to the passenger side. To us Brits, everyone else was, of course, on the wrong side, now that we were in France. As the passenger door swung open a cheery female voice from the depths of the cab hailed me with, "Hop in sweetheart." I grabbed the handrail, put my foot on the step, and swung myself & my duffle in. "Where you off to then?" She enquired as I stowed my bag under my legs & settled myself into the seat. "Barcelona, or somewhere near there." I replied, taking stock of my new surroundings. My chauffeur was very obviously female, if the voice hadn't give her away the sight of her jiggly bust certainly did. She wore her bleached blond hair somewhat short, her tee-shirt somewhat tight around the rocking tits, and faded denim cutoffs. I guessed she was about thirty and she had a cheeky impish grin. "So 'ow long you going for?" "I don't have to be back until October to start university classes." "Blimey, nice work if you can get it!" and she shot me a smile that formed alluring dimples on her cheeks. “Speaking of work,” I ventured a question.. “You’re the first female trucker I’ve ever encountered? How’s that working out?” “My pop owns the truckline, so when they had a driver shortage, I made my pitch and showed him how well I handle a rig.”  “How’d you learn?” I asked. “Most of my teen years were spent working the weekend freight dock, and on the slow shifts I’d practice driving when no one was around.” She explained. The next several hundred kilometers passed in getting to know each other. Gilly was her name. She loved life on the road, often did the same runs up and down through France, knew all the best stops and frequently picked up hitchhikers for the chat and to pass the hours. "So off for the three-S holiday are we?" "The three S?" I said quizzically. "Yep, the three S. Do you know you can tell someone’s age by their three esses?" "Sorry, I'm not with you." "Right I'll tell you, you just complete the third S with the first thing that comes into your head, OK?" "OK!" "Sun, sea and?" "Sand!" This reply was met with about the dirtiest sounding laugh I have ever heard in my life! "OK, you're about eight years old! Sun sea and sand!" More laughter, "Let's try again. Sun, sea and?" "Sangria?" "Getting better, much better, but still not there. One more try." I am now getting nervous. The only other S I can think of is sex and I was certainly not going to say that out loud to this lady I'd only just met. She's good company and I don't want to get put out in the middle of nowhere. "Sun sea and?" Came the question again. My mind was racing for an escape route and I suddenly found it. "How many letters?" She took one hand off the wheel and started turning her fingers down one by one as she counted. "Eight." Phew, so it wasn't sex. You cannot believe how relieved I was that I hadn't said it, but eight? I racked my brains, but even sangria was only seven. "I Give up." I admitted. Her reply stunned my into silence. I could hardly believe my ears. "Shagging! Shagging of course. Sun, sea, and shagging. Isn't that why all you students head for the Costas?" My week mumblings were incoherent and never meant to be heard anyway. Gilly, with the ashen blond hair, tight T shirt and filthy laugh had just said 'Shagging'! "Come on now." She said placing one hand on my knee for a few seconds and flashing me her beguiling smile, dimples and all. "Don't tell me I'm wrong.” "Look, I bet you a quid that I'd find johnnies in your ruck sack? But I'm not giving you the quid unless you let me check. There are johnnies in your pack aren't there?" This was getting out of hand. This busty & fit lady had just put her hand on my knee, flashed me a smile and boxed me into a corner. "You win." I said reluctantly. "Knew it. Sun, sea and shagging! Well a good looking lad like you shouldn't have much trouble feasting on the roast chicken beaches." Again, the smile with the dimples. "Roast chicken beaches?" I wanted to know what she meant but didn't want to appear as naive as I was. "Yea, you know. All those bikini-clad girls sunbathing all day and, like a roast chicken, yet all the best bits are white!" Another pat on the knee accompanied by a chortle or two of that dirty laugh. "That is unless you go to Playa Mar Bella, where every one is the same colour all over because they don't wear anything." I am now having trouble controlling the cinema in my head. Nudist beaches, I hadn't even thought about that. I had only ever seen one naked woman in my life and the pictures floating through my mind were starting to cause problems in my trousers. On a nudist beach I would certainly get an erection and what to do then? "I think I'd better stick to normal beaches." I muttered weakly. "Not sure you could cope with all those naked bums and tits, eh? I have to say it's a bit of a surprise the first time." The first time? Is Gilly telling me she goes to nudist beaches? Displays those magnificent tits to the world, not to mention her pussy. Shit, I must stop thinking about Gilly naked, it's getting difficult. A few more miles rolled past. "OK, time for a game of Truth or Dare. Obviously the dares are going to be limited but if you don't want to answer you just pay a forfeit. You start." I can only remember the key questions. We started off simply enough just asking slightly more probing questions than you would in normal conversation when she asked me. "Truth or dare?" "Truth." "What's the most embarrassing moment of your life?" Shit! I thought. "Do I have to answer." "Of course, that's the game, unless you want to pay a forfeit and my forfeits are quite challenging." "Well, a couple of years ago I barged in to my parent's bedroom. They were both naked, on top of the bed and 'doing it'." The dirty laugh just got dirtier, "I bet that put them off their stride. Shit, embarrassing all round. OK, your turn, I'll go for truth." "What body part are you most proud of?" Expecting an evasive answer. "My tits of course! Aren't they great? You've hardly taken your eyes off them for the last hundred miles. My turn. Where did you loose your virginity." "Um, er, well, er......" "Are you trying to say it hasn't happened yet?" "Er yes." "Jeepers, cooped up in a cab for hundreds of miles with a virgin. No wonder you can't take your eyes of my tits! Your go." "How old were you when you first had sex?" "Oh that's easy. Old enough to know better, young enough not to care!" More dirty laughter, "It was at my birthday party, the night I became 'old enough to know better'. There was a boy I'd fancied for ages, we'd snogged before, but I took him up to my room. My turn. If you were a girl for a day what would you do?" I was getting much more comfortable with the company of this wonderful woman. She was so open and seemed so worldly wise. Before I could really think of the answer my mouth said. "Find a nice boy and take him up to my room." "Great answer! He was fun, but very inexperienced. It didn't last long. He got the Johnny on, put it in, moved up and down a couple of times and made a noise that left me in no doubt that it was all over. Not exactly the Karma Sutra but it got the job done." I can hardly believe my ears. This woman had just described her first sexual experience to me without batting an eye lid. The sixties were definitely a liberating decade. Then we pulled off the road to a Routier. Parked up in a diagonal line with lots of other lorries. "That's it for today. Let's eat." We walked over to the building and as I followed her I couldn't help but notice how the tight denim cutoff shorts clung to her very alluring bum, which wobbled in a truly delightful way. Her trucker’s wallet flapped around, protruding from her right butt pocket. They served delicious food, at a fixed price, with a glass of wine and I noticed with relief that they also had rooms also at very reasonable prices. After the meal I got up and walked towards reception. "Where are you off to?" "Get a room." "Well, if you want to save some money and you promise to be good, you can kip down i

A Virgin Brit On A French Holiday: Part 1 Part 1: Tante Marie’s chateau of delights. By Slowandeasy47. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. I had just left school at the age of nineteen and had a whole summer before starting uni in October. I was off to France for a month and in the 60s that was a big adventure, I couldn't wait. Having been cloistered in a boys boarding school for the last five years I was now off to explore the world, well northern France at least. We had relatives there and I was going to spend my first month in a chateau just outside Amiens. Chateau sounds very grand and thanks to TV, if not schoolboy French, it doesn't mean castle. It in fact means a gentleman's residence, substantial for sure, but no portcullis or draw bridge. I had never met Tante Marise, nor stayed in a chateau, draw bridge or no draw bridge. France was a very formal place in the 60's, actually it still is, so Aunt Marise was always addressed as Tante, or Tante Marise: never, ever simply as Marise, way too sloppy for the linguistically pedantic French. Although, interestingly enough, we did use the familiar tu, rather than the more formal vous form. One of those interesting vagaries of Roman languages. Actually Tante Marise now lived in one wing of the chateau as the place was enormous and, even in the 60's, quite unmanageable for a single family, so it had been divided into three, still substantial, homes. The building was massively imposing. A classic Somme chateau with a hugely impressive double staircase to the centre section and two wings. Tante Marise lived in one of the wings and the rest had been sold off, but the land, an apple orchard, had remained in the family, largely for the private production of Calvados, which is the French word for brandy. As I recall, in those days, you were allowed to make a certain amount of Calvados without a permit, as long as it was for private consumption, but definitely not for sale. My late lamented uncle Cyril had applied a certain French flexibility to the rules and there were stashes of this magic potion all over the farm. The interest of the authorities had been distracted by his throwing of lavish boozing sessions with the local constables. Alas Uncle Maurice had passed away and I surmised that my board and lodging was something of a quid pro quo for helping with the harvest. I was only nineteen, so hard work didn't worry me and besides they had one of those magnificent 60s French bicycles I could use in my spare time. It was a Solex bicycle or something similar. It had a simple motor that you lowered with a lever onto the front tyre and no longer had to pedal. I could use it to go to the village or wherever I liked. It would never have crossed my mind to borrow the car any more than it would have crossed hers to offer it. That was not the way things happened then. The great day came and the details of how I got to Tante Marise's chateau are lost to the mists of time but arrive I did. My first introduction to her was of her grasping me by the shoulders, pulling me towards her and planting several kisses on each cheek, an uncommon greeting in England at the time, but very pleasant. She was petite, with short dark hair and very square glasses. She was also younger than I expected. I never knew her age but I calculated it to be late thirties and I remember being surprised at how neat and trim her figure was, but most of all, how obvious her breasts were. They had actually contacted my chest during her enthusiastic greeting, which had been a delight. Cyril & Marise had never had children and always enjoyed the visits from their nephews and nieces. Why it had taken so long for the English side of the family to visit is uncertain, but the recent visit was probably prompted by my impending university course studying French literature I settled in and tried speaking French, probably with mixed success. Tante Marise herself was French, spoke pretty good English, but with that delightfully sexy French accent made famous many years later by the TV programme 'Allo 'Allo. However, part of the reason for my stay was to get my conversational French fluent, so she only allowed us to speak English after supper and, as no-one else on the farm spoke English, it was going to be a valuable experience. It was a typically hot summer and Tante Marise liked to wear very light clothing, so my young eyes could hardly avert my gaze from her very obvious breasts. They were made all the more noticeable because of her habit of not wearing a bra. This was a completely new trend at that time and usually only observed on the Riviera. Not so with Tante Marise, whenever she bent over in the orchards or the kitchen, her pendulous breasts undulated in the most delightful fashion and, I have to confess, featured heavily in my nocturnal fantasies. Occasionally the farm foreman would come to supper and, after finishing off their meal with a glass of calvados, they would head to the 'Bureau' to discuss business. Antoine was a giant of a man with huge hands, a great shock of white hair and a magnificent moustache, the kind you only ever see now in caricatures of French moustaches. On these occasions I was left alone in the parlor to watch TV. French TV back in those days was much more risqu than its English equivalent and I was often treated to pictures of naked ladies, admittedly usually a rear view, but totally naked all the same. How did the actor who was facing her cope with the pleasant distraction? He must have seen everything! And everything was beyond my wildest dreams. We must remember that this was the sixties, no internet and certainly no porn or even explicit magazines. I really can't remember what we called female genitalia back then but it probably wasn't as nice as my newly acquired French word, foufoune, or pussie; so I will use that. One evening, when Tante Marise and Antoine were in the 'Bureau' discussing business, I got so worked up by a really sexy French film, featuring a totally naked couple, that I made my way to my room to relieve the tension that the characters on screen had induced in my teenage penis or 'ma bitte', which means ‘my dick’, as I had heard the actors calling it. The route to my room took me past the 'Bureau' and whatever they were discussing, it had little or nothing to do with the running of the farm. Remember, I was only nineteen and had been at a boys' boarding school for the last five years. I had no knowledge of sex whatsoever, except the purely mechanical process from biology lessons. The penis enters the vagina, semen flows, fertilisation takes place, et voil , reproduction! The detail of what sex might actually be like was still a mystery and, I imagined, still several years in the future. The world was a much more naive place back then: much more. I had never even seen a picture of a naked woman, let alone seen a real one, and my knowledge of breasts was limited to pictures in Health & Efficiency magazine, which was popular at the time. Now, for the first time ever in my young life, I was hearing sounds that I only thought I understood. Tante Marise was using French words I hadn't learned yet and so was Antoine! Their breathless exchanges along with the rhythmic squeaking sounds of the 'Bureau's day couch were seriously erotic. Was this what fucking sounded like in real life? Was Antoine actually fucking Tante Marise? My, already eager, cock certainly thought so. Just the other side of the door I could imagine Tante Marise, blouse open, those magnificent tits on display, lying back on the day couch with her legs spread wide, welcoming Antoine's cock in her foufoune! Antoine for his part, I imagined, was clasping her naked buttocks in his giant hands as he thrust into her with rapidly mounting excitement. Fuck this was sexy! I stayed as long as I dared, getting more and more excited with this unexpected introduction to the magic sounds of copulation. I could hear their breathing becoming more rapid, their words of encouragement getting louder, the squeaking rhythm accelerating and yes: I came in my pants! I had hardly touched my cock but the sounds of two people actually fucking only a few feet away, combined with my boyish imagination, was more than I could stand. I hurried to my room to inspect the damage. Wow, what a lot of cum! It had already soaked through from my pants and there was a large wet patch on the front of my trousers. What to do? I didn't normally go to bed this early and I certainly could not go back to the parlor in these trousers. I decided that getting into my pyjamas and going back down would be the best course of action, but first I put on clean under pants to keep my cock firmly locked up. Back in the TV room Tante Marise reappeared after I heard her show Antoine out with a cheery, " la prochaine." Or, until next time. What? There was going to be a next time? Were they going to do it again? Anyway, she sat down beside me, made some comment about my getting ready for bed early and we watched the TV. I could not stop my mind from wandering. She didn't look any different! But she'd just been fucking! How could this be? She had just clearly enjoyed having Antoine thrusting between her thighs, an experience that I could only imagine, and here she sat as if nothing had happened. In fact, she seemed quite relaxed and serene, even. I am not sure what I expected, but certainly not this degree of blas normality. It was just as well that I had pants on under my PJs because, try as I might, my mind kept wandering back to the scene I had just overheard. My first real encounter with sex. OK so I only overheard them having sex, but the memory was enough to give me another erection: oh the power of recovery of the teenager! As soon as possible I made my excuses and went to my room. I took off my PJs and pants and lay down on my back, stark naked, with my second erection of the evening. I felt the breeze from