Amber_Fountaine's blog post - Exploits - Life with Barbara Part One

Exploits – Life with Barbara Part One
Barbara was a phase of my life like no other and will be far the larger amount of stories. A lot of these, if you’ve read my previous work, might sound familiar since I’ve used them or parts of them for some of my fictional work. Of course the names have been changed to protect the guilty.
Barbara came into my life entirely by accident. I’d moved into a small apartment not far from the school where I worked and had fully accepted my bisexuality and desire to wear lingerie. Amber had enjoyed a six month relationship with a married lover (a ‘sugar daddy’ as Barbara called him after I’d told her about him) that had moved and I had pretty much decided to go steady with Rosy Palm for a bit and save up some money. I’d spent most of Friday and Friday night doing the same thing and all I had to show for it was a clean kitchen and most of my clean clothes put away. I had cum once on Friday but hadn’t rushed that one either.
There was a bar I frequented with a totally straight crowd that I’ll call “Frank’s Place” in these stories. Frank was an older man and had decided to shut the bar for a week to take his wife someplace special for their 50th anniversary. He promised to be back to open on Labor Day weekend. The gang, male and female, that gathered to watch Cowboys football decided that another bar down the street called “The Corner” would be our meeting place to watch the Cowboys game on Sunday.
So once again I had nothing planned until Sunday and Saturday I’d spent a leasurely morning sipping wine, smoking dope, running around in my favorite nightgown, or cock in hand, reading erotic stories, and edging. I was keeping myself aroused but holding off, enjoying the super sensual feeling of being stoned, in sexy lingerie, and highly sexually stimulated at the same time. Unfortunately, or fortunately as it turned out, I closed my eyes to picture myself as the person in a story I’d just read, as I’d been doing all morning, and nodded off. When I woke up, it was late afternoon, I was out of wine, and almost anything edible.
I jumped in the shower and then dressed in clean panties and male outer attire, did my grocery, beer, and wine shopping and on a lark, decided to stop at the bar where we’d agreed to meet the next day.
In the crowd that had gathered were two women, mid-30’s, equally attractive, and I really didn’t know either of them. One was a short brunette with a smoldering look that promised great things but was pretty much an unknown. She was recently divorced and spent most of her socializing time at the Corner. The other was a cowgirl I’d fantasized about a few times since I’d been told she could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. The brunette was quiet and watchful and several times I caught her watching me. The cowgirl was her usual loud and brassy self so I decided I’d see how far I could get with the brunette.
We quickly became equally infatuated with each other and by the time the sun set we both knew we’d be spending the night together. Using the excuse that we were going to go get something to eat, we took off in my car.
The meal part was real. Neither of us had eaten lunch and we were both starved, but I knew as soon as the meal was done, we’d be coming back to my apartment and I’d left things laying around that I didn’t want her to see. Aside from the books and magazines, I’d left my nightie thrown on the bed and a dildo on the nightstand and couldn’t remember what else might be left where she might notice.
She was curious when I pulled up in front of my apartment building but told her I’d be right back that I wanted to get a pack of cigarettes and then left her sitting with the motor running. I was on the second floor and had just reached the stairs, when I heard her shut off the motor and tell me she needed to use the bathroom.
Crap! I flew up the stairs, grabbed everything incriminating that I could find and tossed it under the bed and barely made it before she’d followed me into the bedroom and then popped into bathroom. I’d made a quick glance in there and hadn’t seen anything and when she came out, she seemed like nothing had changed. She asked where and what was I planning to eat and I told her what I really wanted was to eat her right here on that bed. She said that’s what she wanted too but . . . she really was hungry and she needed to be home to get a call from her sister, so we headed out to eat.
Instead of going to my place for dessert, which by then we’d agreed would be each other, she insisted I spend the night at her place and at that point I wasn’t about to argue; especially since she’d added, “and next time we can go to your apartment.”
Let me pause the story to point out something my experience with women had taught me. Most, including my ex-wife the whole time we were married, will turn their back to you when they undress. For me, that was always a blessing since I was often wearing panties. I’d dawdle taking off my boots, and then as soon as they’d turn their back, I’d pull down my panties and jeans together. I’d done that successfully several times and it worked that night with Barb too.
If ever I was going to have sexual stage fright it would have been that night. I’d been promised an encore performance before she’d ever seen my act. I was fully prepared to do whatever it took for however long it took to rock her world. My plan was to make her orgasm at least once with my tongue before we got to the ol’ in and out part. So I licked and I nibbled and I sucked and caressed and nibbled and licked some more and would have been at it at sunrise had she not stopped me and told me that if I was trying to make her cum it wouldn’t work – she couldn’t cum that way.
Fine. Not a problem - I hoped. I knew some women require penetration and I just hoped she wasn’t used to a much bigger penetrator than mine. We commenced to fucking and fucking and fucking. I tried different positions and techniques and wasn’t getting anywhere. I’m doing quadratic equations in my head trying to get her to cum before I do. Finally I gave up and gave her the big load of cum I’d been holding back since that morning.
I was spent in more ways than one. I couldn’t remember ever having cum that hard and there wasn’t an ounce of energy anywhere in my body. I was too wasted to even roll off of her. Then I heard her tell me, as I felt her hand squeeze in between us, to get off, that she needed to cum.
As I rolled to one side she began to finger herself. She wanted to masturbate to orgasm because I had failed to perform for her. Bullshit, I thought. I’m not giving up yet.
Quickly I got between her legs and moved her hand out of the way and went after my favorite post coital meal – a cream pie! I love cum and mixed with the juices of a freshly fucked female it’s even better. Within seconds I had her flopping around on the bed like a fish out of water and making noises that should have had someone calling the law. Then she had an orgasm and fainted.
For a moment I really thought she’d died. I’d heard about old men having heart attacks and dying in bed but never 37 year-old women. I was speaking to her, squeezing her hand, looking for some sign of life and wondering what I’d tell the 911 dispatcher to explain the situation when she took a big breathe, opened her eyes slightly, mumbled ‘goodnight’ and went out. I wasn’t far behind her.
The next morning was almost a repeat. I’d gotten up to drink about a gallon of water and was headed to the bathroom when she called me back to bed. I remembered what she’d said about not being able to cum from me eating her pussy, but that didn’t make sense because that was what finally got her off. However I knew what had worked the night before, and repeated it all but in a much shorter time and again got the same result. While licking my cum out of her she exploded.
By then I desperately needed to pee. However she recovered first and headed to the bathroom. When I heard the toilet flush I headed that way and as I entered, she turned on the hot water, told me it took a few minutes to get warm, that I was welcome to shower with her, and then told me she’d be right back. I gave her a quick kiss, turned to the toilet, and found the seat down and piled with towels and hair stuff. I thought about moving it, then decided I’d just get in the tub and pee in the tub drain. Good plan but… t just about the time I was ready to pee, she stepped into the tub in front of me and bent over to adjust the water temperature.
Feeling frisky, and maybe just a little drunk from the night before, I began to pee between her legs and then raised my aim until I was pissing on her slit. I thought she’d jump but instead she leaned over further and rotated her hips so I could pee on her clit.
When I’d finished, she turned around and asked why I’d done it and since it had been totally unplanned with no conscious intention other than playing around I told her that I was hoping she’d return the favor.
If you haven’t read about my life prior to this, then let me tell you that pee play or ‘water-sports’ has been one of my favorite kinks since the start of puberty. It probably began a long time before that but it was in puberty that it took on sexual aspects.
I could have shrugged off her question and told her I was just fooling around, needed to pee and she’d stepped in the way. Telling her that I hope she’d return the favor was just to see how she’d react to trying something kinky. I was super happy when she told me to lie down on the floor of the tub and she’d try, that she’d never peed standing up but if I was serious, she’d be happy to try.
Unfortunately, she’d used the toilet minutes earlier so I was too late and we laughed it off. She told me to shower first, that she needed to wash her hair and if I wanted a beer, there was some in the fridge. I did, got out, dried off, and went for a beer and congratulated myself on finding what appeared to be the perfect woman. When I heard the water cut off, I went to ask her if she wanted a beer and she turned it down and began to tell me her plans for the day as she dried her hair.
The reason we had to go to her place the night before was a family meeting that afternoon. Her mom was going to be at her sister’s house and they were all having a family meeting to discuss what to do with her mom, that she needed to be put in a home. Then we talked about after and came up with a plan to meet back there, that I’d bring everything to fix a couple of steaks, bake some potatoes, and make a salad. That decided, she plugged in her hair bonnet and I went to get dressed.
Since she was in the bathroom with her hair dryer going, I felt it was safe to pull my panties out of my jeans and put them on first. So I was standing in her bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, when she walked in. She’d decided to do her makeup while her hair was drying, needed something off the dresser, and had unplugged the air hose but left the dryer motor going. She looked at my panties, said, “That’s cute,” and went back to the bathroom.
That gave me a lot to think about and the whole afternoon that’s all I thought about. We were obviously attracted to each other. I’d revealed part of my kinky side and she hadn’t given any negative responses. Her only comment on my eating her cream pie and giving her an incredible orgasm again that morning had been, “I can’t believe you did that.” I wasn’t sure how she meant it, but it wasn’t negative. She’d kissed me and sucked my tongue half-way down her throat. Then she’d told me my panties were ‘cute’ and in my experiences, when a woman told me that or something similar, they were okay with it.
By the time I was ready to change and head back to start on our cookout, I’d decided to push the feminine side of me a bit. I wore a similar pair of panties, ladies shorts, a t-shirt and ladies sandles. I almost wore a bra, but decided that would be pushing it and I’d see how it went. I was sure we’d be having sex again that evening and I’d take my time undressing to see how she reacted to the panties. The shorts were cutoff, sequined and embroidered, ladies jeans. I’d built up a collection of women’s casual wear that resembled men’s clothes from a distance but up close if you paid attention, they were definitely feminine.
She’d given me a key, so I had the fire started, the potatoes baking, and was making the salad when she got home. She came in with a big suitcase, set it down, gave me a great kiss, and at the same time opened the shorts and let them drop to my ankles. She followed them down and pulled my swelling cock out over the top of my panties and began to give me a world class blow job, not stopping until my knees buckled and she had a mouth full of my baby batter. I pulled her up off her knees when I’d regained the strength in mine and kissed her and when we broke the kiss, she gave me a funny look and asked, “Doesn’t it bother you that I just sucked your cock?”
“Of course not,” I told her. “Why should it?”
“You’re different,” she commented, more like she was thinking that to herself and then walked off.
I considered wearing just the t-shirt and panties like women do all the time, but there were neighbors to consider if I was going to put the steaks on the grill on the back porch. However she had several opportunities to see me dressed in those panties and never made a comment.
I should explain that those panties were a gift from John, the man I referred to earlier that had been my lover and had recently moved. He was the manager of a large discount chain store in a nearby shopping center and often gifted me with lingerie. These panties – there were five in the set – were novelty panties. They were all white with a different street sign in front and matching lacy colored edge. The pair I’d been wearing the night before and earlier that morning had a triangular yellow “Yield” sign on the front with the words “TO ME” just below and yellow trim at the waist and legs. The ones I’d had on that afternoon had a red octagon “STOP” sign and just above it the word “DON’T” and were trimmed in red. Another, trimmed in black had a one way sign with the arrow pointing down, another had a “Proceed with Caution” sign – you get the idea.
The bottom line here is that she never said a word about the way I was dressed and we made a date for the following weekend, with her agreeing to stay at my place on Saturday night and we’d play it by ear from there. It was Labor Day weekend and the only thing we both wanted was to spend all three days and nights together. I promised to call mid-week and that was where we left it when I left for work Monday morning.
I’m sure I told her that I was taking night courses at our community college. The school where I worked was super busy with new students coming in and classes beginning the next week. I had finals all week at the school where I was going and it was almost accidental when I reached her from work on Friday morning. She was pissed but when she’d calmed down and listened to my story it made sense. I had a window of opportunity to call her at noon and between work and night school and when I got home it was after ten and I didn’t want to call that late. I wasn’t supposed to make personal calls at work but had in this case since to me it was nearly an emergency. She’d never told me she did volunteer work during the day, stopped at the Corner on the way home, and by the time she got home I was in school. She’d been thinking about getting an answering machine but hadn’t as yet. I’d written down my number for her but she’d lost it.
However we got it straightened out and confirmed our plans for her to come over Saturday and spend the weekend with me. By the time we finished that call we were both damn near having phone sex.
I would have preferred to start our weekend on Friday night but my apartment needed to be put in order for my full revelation. I had a huge stack of the letter magazines popular in the 70’s and 80’s like Variations, Penthouse Letters, and similar publications. They were full of letters from people concerning a variety of sexual practices. All of the ones that had stories about bisexual men, cross dressing, pee play, and wearing and wetting diapers had the stories ear marked and a color code of stripes on the bottom of the magazine. I had begun to sift through them looking for stories about bisexual cross-dressing men in successful relationships with a woman and setting them in a separate pile. My plan was to tell her about myself, and then let her read a few of the magazine stories in hopes that it would encourage her to try a relationship with me.
I began cleaning Friday as soon as I got off work, finished sorting the magazines, and then Saturday morning hand washed my lingerie and put it out on a clothes line I’d installed on the long back porch behind my apartment and the one next to it. The lady that lived next door to me was aware of my sexual perversions and thought it was harmless.
Friday night had been date night with John, something we’d added the last few months before he moved. The store was open until 10 so I’d be dressed to go out at 6 and he’d take me to diner fully dressed as a woman. Maybe in memory of him I’d started dressing as if I was going out but had stopped with after putting on my lingerie. I’d picked out a matching bra and panty set, stockings and garter belt, and stuffed the bra with the breast forms John had gotten for me. Then instead of putting on a wig, makeup and dress, I’d put on a nightie and gone to work sorting the magazines, resisting the urge to pump one out. When I’d gotten up Saturday morning, with all the housework ahead of me, I’d changed out of the nightie into a house dress and when I had everything as neat and clean as it was ever going to get, I decided it was time to stock the refrigerator and pantry for the weekend. It was just after lunch, too early to change to get ready for Barbara, so I took off the housedress and slipped on some jeans, loafers, and a shirt and went to the store.
On the way back, I saw that “Frank’s” was open and must not have been for long because there was only one car and it was Frank’s. So I pulled in to have one beer and say hello. Barbara was sitting at the bar.
Since I was still wearing stockings and no socks, I couldn’t sit down or the taupe seamed hose would have been noticeable at my ankles. I was afraid if I hugged her she’d feel the padded bra under my shirt and light windbreaker that I’d added to hide the bumps the pads made. So I gave her a peck on the cheek, stood beside her and ordered us both a beer. She told me she’d just walked in, that her car was in the shop around down the street a block, and that she needed a ride home. Of course I offered, told her I’d drop her off on the way home and come back for her later. Everything looked like it was going to work out great until we got to her apartment and when she got out, she told me to wait a minute.
It was much more like five or ten, but she came out with an overnight case and a big smile. She was ready for our weekend to begin and I wasn’t.
I tried to make excuses about why she should wait, that I didn’t have the place ready and every other reason I could think of. Suddenly she blew up. She accused me of being married or having a girlfriend. She told me she’d seen a pink nightgown hanging on the back of the door when she’d used bathroom the previous week. She said I’d lied and that the reason I hadn’t called her was that my girlfriend was listening. She told me that there’d been a tray of makeup under the bathroom sink and she’d seen a makeup mirror on my dresser. When she’d finally worn down after calling me six kinds of a no good lying bastard, I started the car and never said a word. She kept asking questions about where we were going but stopped when she realized it was toward my apartment. She got concerned when I pulled into a driveway behind my apartment but stopped when I did. She was confused.
My apartment building was on the side of a hill and behind my apartment was a long concrete retaining wall. Above that was the driveway for the building behind me and parked where we were, we were almost level with my second floor apartment.
I’d turned off the motor and told her she was right, that there was another woman in my life. Then I pointed out her window and said, “See anything on that clothes line you might recognize?”
She looked for a minute and said she didn’t think so.
“How about that pink nightgown you said was in the bathroom? Or those white panties with the street signs on them?’
She looked again, then turned back to me kind of wide eyed.
“I’m the other woman,” I told her. “All those things are mine. If you want to come inside I’ll explain it. I’d planned to do that this weekend but you’ve made me do it early and in an uncomfortable way for both of us. I told you I had a surprise for you and this is it. If you want me to take you home I will but I ask you to please not say anything. This part of my life is my secret and I’d hate to have to find a new place to watch the Cowboys games.”
It took a moment or two longer than I’d hoped, making me very nervous, but finally she smiled slightly and said she wanted to stay at least to hear what I had to tell her.

Not only did she hear my story, she read all the magazines I’d earmarked for her, and then read all the other earmarked stories that I hadn’t intended for her to read. Each time she read a story that she didn’t understand, or didn’t understand why I liked it, I’d take time to explain it to her. I changed back into the housedress and left her at the table reading. As she read and sipped the glasses of wine I was giving her, I began making our supper, took the lingerie off the line and folded it and put it away. Every so often she’d make a comment about one of the stories but the only comment she made about me was when she read a story about a guy confessing to his wife that he loved her but he also loved to suck cock and loved the taste of cum and that was why he always ate her pussy after they fucked. She told me about the story then said, “You must be like this guy,” smiled at me and when I nodded, she went back to reading some more.
I smiled too. So much for having to tell her I was bisexual.
It wasn’t until after we’d eaten and were cuddled together on the recliner that she opened up about how she felt. She told me briefly that she’d had sex with one guy before she met the boy that she married while still in high school, that he got her pregnant and that they’d gone to Mexico to get married. No stranger to the problem, the Mexican officials had asked what date they wanted on the marriage certificate so they’d back dated it three months. Then her husband, David, had joined the Army and a few months later told them he’d met a woman with a new baby and the dad had died and he was going to adopt the baby and somehow he pulled it off. She’d had two more kids, one which had died as a baby, and that her two kids were now teens and living with her sister. She gave me a few more details and then asked if I still intended to take a shower and when I said I did, she grinned.
When I’d talked to her Friday and told her I had a surprise for her, she’d told me she had a surprise for me too. She followed me into the shower and told me not to turn the water on, that all week she’d been practicing peeing standing up and that if I really wanted her to pee on me like I’d said, and like she was sure I did since she’d found a couple of stories about that in the stack of magazines I hadn’t intended for her to read.
When I looked back on it, I think her peeing on me in the shower was her way of telling me that my fetishes were okay with her. We talked well into the night about what kind of relationship we could have. She’d been single again for only two months, after sixteen years of marriage, had been to bed with four men besides me in the last month and didn’t want to hop into another committed relationship until she’d enjoyed a variety of men.
Sunday we talked more, before, during and after our fucking and sucking each other senseless, and then on Monday, since neither of us had paid the Sept. rent, we decided to move in together at her apartment and my name was added to the lease. Under Texas laws we had a common law marriage and under the mores of the 70’s we had an open marriage. One thing for sure, it was one helluva crazy ride!