Pleasure in Denial Ch. 01

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A story of lesbian seduction, awakening, control, and intense edging. There are 11 more chapters and the action definitely hots up. This started life as messages exchanged with a young Eastern European girl whose name escapes me but it began with A. Enjoy!

Chapter 01 – Julia lures young Felicity to her apartment

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I was walking along the wide path behind the glorious sandy beach on the north coast of the largest of the Greek islands. The early afternoon sun was warm on my face and the atmosphere was convivial as groups of mostly young people sunbathed, played games, chatted, and laughed on the beach. Others congregated outside the numerous stylish cafes, posing, preening, and flirting.

I’d rented the same apartment here for the last seven summers as I always enjoyed watching the bright young things, especially the females parading their slim toned bodies to impress their friends. I’d noticed how the fashion in bikinis changed from year to year and currently, to my great delight, the styles were definitely skimpy, verging on the Brazilian. Thongs were de rigeur, exposing firm tanned bum cheeks. From the front, the more daring girls hardly even covered their pubic mounds (shaving was essential) and even the bustiest of them seemingly only found it necessary to cover their areole. Halter necks, delicate straps, neat stitching, and the kinds of fabrics that stretch so provocatively over erect nipples, then turn almost transparent when wet. I wonder if their mothers approve, or even care.

Was I complaining? No. Was I excited? Yes, of course, that’s the whole point of the unspoken game being played out. And I was part of that game. Even at 44 years old, 5 feet 8 tall and rounded 34D breasts, my body had stood the test of time well. All those hours in the gym, careful choice of diet and a generous helping of kind genetics meant I could still flaunt and flirt with the best of them. Was I wearing a bikini? Well of course I was. The exhibitionist in me lives on and I love the admiration and surreptitious looks, especially from the women. Deep crimson red, unlined top to show off my nipps, narrow straps over and behind my shoulders and a cheeky clasp at the front buried in my evocative cleavage. Skimpy bottoms to match, of course, revealing as much as I dared.

I have to admit, I had already rubbed myself through the thin fabric even before I’d left the apartment, posing in front of the enormous mirror and getting myself nicely aroused as I thought of looking at other female bodies, much as I enjoyed looking at my own. Describing little circles around my nipples with my long nails, loving how they reacted, poking and pointing, making peaks in the clingy material, beginning to tingle, throb, grow, mmm they looked delicious in the mirror. As I’d admired them, I couldn’t resist just a little stroke between my legs, imagining the fingers were not my own but belonged to someone else who I was yet to meet … stroking through the expensive expertly-made swimwear. Swimwear? This had another purpose, a wicked, provocative, alluring, seductive purpose. I wasn’t planning to swim, but I was intending it to become wet. Maybe I’d put on a little show under the cold showers behind the beach, maybe yes, but I had a very different idea of wetness in mind, and it was already starting.

Just one more stroke, I’d promised myself, or just a few more, to get me in the mood. Mmmmm, I confessed, ‘I am so In The Mood now’, running my middle finger along the crease in the fabric where it had worked its way into my pussy slit, sliding it down, then up. Down, then up a little further each time, brushing over my clit, making me shudder and let out a tell-tale cry, the need in me growing, the need to slide one hand under the tight bikini top, to caress my breast, to play with my erect nipple. The other hand exploring inside … but no, I’d resisted, and continued to make those lovely figure-of-eight shapes over my clit with my expensively manicured nails, scraping over the material, feeling the click of almost every thread, sending ripples of arousal through that unique throbbing collection of nerve-endings that were about to bring me the most pleasurable prize a woman can experience. Closer, closer as the warm air washed over my near-naked body, blowing seductively through the open window. Faster and more intentionally, then slowly, drawing it out, luxuriating in the inexorable climb to the peak of my arousal, until it became almost unbearable as I teetered on the edge. People outside able to hear my moans, my whimpers, my little gasps of pleasure and then … my cries of frustration as I purposefully pulled my fingers away, my body shaking as I denied myself the orgasm I knew I so desperately needed.

I’d watched my reflection in the mirror as my inner thighs shuddered, my tummy muscles tight, beads of perspiration trickling down my smooth skin. I’d held onto that feeling of delicious self-control as all kinds of chemicals rushed through my body and my mind whirred with mixed emotions. ‘Why do I bağcılar escort do this to myself? Why do I deny myself the pleasure that’s so readily available to me?’ Why? Because I can, because I love it, and because I know that the journey to my next orgasm will be another amazing roller-coaster ride of intense emotions, erect nipples, throbbing clitoris, and oozing juices. And, whenever it comes, my next climax would be so much more powerful, more intense, and very, very satisfying.

And so there I was, looking out over the alluring bodies on the beach; pent up, expectan, but for now at least, on my own. But around 4 pm I became aware of a girl just a few metres along the railings from me; she too was alone, and by her demeanour, she appeared to be upset. I watched her long enough for my mind to fill out an imaginary index card: average height but very slim, which made her look taller than she really was. Blonde hair roughly piled on top of her head. Slender legs and a noticeable thigh-gap. Cute little titties, maybe a 30B, or 32A, small waist curving outwards to nice hips. Classy bikini in purple; bandeau top and tied-just-below-the-hip-bone skimpy bottoms. Clean white trainers. Probably about 17 or 18 years old but could pass for 15 in the right outfit.

As a moved towards her I could see she’d been crying so I asked her if everything was OK. She looked up at me, smiled for a moment, then began to cry again.

“I’ve lost all my stuff” she sobbed, so I invited her to explain.

“I was on an island-hopping party boat with friends but I lost track of time. I’d left all my things on the boat for safety but the boat’s gone without me. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve just dropped my phone and it doesn’t even turn on now so I have nothing at all. No phone, no money, no clothes, no ID, no passport, sweet fuck all…” she blurted in an anguished stream, and burst into floods of tears.

Instinctively I put my arm around her shoulder and tried to reassure her. “I’m sure we can sort something out. Do you know anyone on the island?”

She shook her head.

“Can I call one of your friends and get them to come back for you?”

“Can’t remember anyone’s numbers.”

“Call your Mum?”

“No, no, NO, she’ll have a fit I’m not even supposed to be here she thinks I’m in London.”

We explored a few other possibilities. then her eyes lit up and she pulled a small slip of paper from inside the front of her bikini top. Pumping her elbows she cried “Yes! my ticket,” and waved the slip of paper at me. It was her trip ticket and it had the phone number of the boat company on it.

“Can I borrow your phone and call them? Please? I’ll love you forever if you do.”

The prospect was very enticing. She was very attractive on several levels and, to be honest, I was drawn to her vulnerability as well as her body. My arousal levels were climbing.

“Sorry,” I replied. She looked something between crestfallen and angry.

“I’ve heard of tricksters around here asking to borrow phones then running off with them. But I’ll call the boat people for you if you read out the number.”

She did that lovely elbow-pump thing again and smiled broadly.

After a long wait I got through to the boat company’s office and in my basic Greek I explained the situation. The woman at the other end knew where the boat was berthed and kindly offered to send someone in a speedboat to pick up her things. They’d be there in two hours.

“What did they say? Can I get my bag back?”

I looked into her eyes and concealed my intentions as best I could.

“She said the skipper has found your bag but he’s locked it away in the boatyard office and there aren’t any more trips planned for 3 days. They’ll bring it here on the next island-hopper party-boat trip … on Friday.”

She burst into tears again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I supposed to do now? I’ve got nowhere to stay, no money for food, and I can’t walk the streets dressed like this I’ll get arrested, or worse”

I feigned ‘deep in thought’ even though my plan was already well-formed.

“Come and sit down. I’ll buy you a drink and let’s try to work something out.”

She thew her arms round my neck and kissed me, which came as a nice surprise.

“Thank you that would be amazing. I’m so happy it was you who spoke to me and not some creepy guy only interested in what’s inside my bikini.”

I smiled. “Indeed,” I replied.

My pussy twitched and my clit made its unsatisfied presence felt as I took her hand and led her to a secluded cafe-bar.

The waitress raised an eyebrow. “What can I get you, and … your daughter?”

“Niece,” I corrected, looking at the young lady in question who threw me a quizzical expression.

“Beer?” She nodded, and looked away.

“Two beers please. Large, and some savoury snacks; olives, feta, whatever you suggest. And some crusty bread.”

My new companion looked awkward and whispered to me, “Don’t I need merter escort to be able to prove I’m over eighteen to drink alcohol?”

“Well, are you?”

She looked away and down, sheepishly, breaking eye-contact, then continued “That’s not the point, it’s that I don’t have any documentation that would prove it even if I was.”

“Listen,” I reassured her, “This is Greece; obeying the law is optional here.”

“And why do I have to be your niece?

“It’s easier that way. Trust me”

“How do I know if I can trust you.”

“Do you have any choice?”

She looked down again.

When the beers and food arrived, she became happier and more relaxed, but the questions kept coming: “Well Auntie, I suppose at least I should know your name.”

“Julia.”

“Felicity. But I hate my name. My Mum’s very posh, or thinks she is. Call me Flix.”

‘Flix’ downed over half her glass of beer in one draught; she must have been dry. And she feasted hungrily on the nibbles as we began to chat. Nothing she told me gave much of a clue as to her real age but I thought it best not to ask, in case … and my mind was racing as I imagined the possibilities. I felt my nipples harden, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Flix, listen … I think I should have your Mum’s phone number, just in case.”

“In case of what, Julia?”

“Like, if you had an accident, or were suddenly taken ill and couldn’t speak. No-one here knows you and no-one knows who you are.”

“Only for emergencies, right?” Felicity looked anxious.

“I guess so – depends how you define an emergency.”

“I’m not sure.”

“But you must.”

“Must, eh. Really? How come? And why all this concern for my safety when we’ve only just met” – she was looking more confused.

“Well, my sweet, pretty little niece, I could just walk away now, leave you here to pay the bar bill, and find your own way home.”

I think she muttered ‘bitch’ under her breath and I tapped ‘add new contact’ on my phone screen. She typed in the number and ‘Flix Mum’. I felt a rush of excitement course through my body, ending at my clit which for a while had been sitting in the back row but which now wanted a front row seat. Everything was going to plan.

“Please don’t call her. I mean it. She’ll go totally mental. She made me promise not to go on holiday without her permission. And I’m not allowed boyfriends unless she approves them first. She even vets my clothes, makes sure they are ‘decent’. Like … I have several ultra-sexy party and club-nite dresses back in England but I have to keep them at a friend’s house so she never sees me in them. So you can imagine, if she knew I was here without permission, and dressed in this, she’d cut me off totally and then …” she looked downcast “… I’d have no money for shoes, or clothes, or lingerie. Or going out. Or anything at all really.”

“What about … girlfriends?”

Flix glanced at me, our eyes held contact for, you know, just that little bit longer. She handed back my phone but said nothing. I put it away in my bag. She visibly relaxed.

As we talked, I watched her. The way she used hand gestures, the way she licked the beer foam from her luscious lips. Her flawless skin, her cute ears, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about modern art. I was only half listening; I was busy scheming.

“Come on Flix, let’s find you something decent to wear.” We both looked down at her bikini top and she giggled. The stretch lycra fabric did nothing to hide her puffy areole and her perky nipples. “Don’t you like it, Auntie Julia”

“I love it, sweetie, and you look fabulous in it. But you can’t walk around the town in just that, not even in Greece.”

“But I have no money, remember?” she responded, in a wonderfully seductive ‘poor little girl lost’ voice.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to pay me back somehow.”

“When I get my stuff back on Friday.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

I finished my beer and settled the bill. The waitress said nothing, but smiled at me knowingly.

“There are some divine clothing boutiques just two minutes’ walk from here,” I explained as we strode inland, leaving the vibrant beach behind us. Felicity thanked me again but interjected: “To be honest, I’m more worried about where I’m going to sleep tonight. Can we find me a cheap hostel somewhere where at least I can get a dormitory bed for the next 3 nights?”

“Sure, I can phone around whilst you’re trying things on.”

Felicity grasped my hand and stood in front of me, temporarily blocking my way forward, our faces inches apart. “Listen Julia, you’re being very kind. You don’t have to do this for me. I’m just a stupid little girl who fucked everything up and I should be old enough and mature enough to sort out my own problems. I’m really grateful and I can’t quite understand why you’re doing all this for me.”

“Maybe I’m just a nice, caring person?” I suggested, then, under my breath, “or maybe eskort I’m not.”

“I think you are, Julia, and the world needs more women like you.”

“And maybe you’re not …”

“Not what?”

“Old enough and mature enough.”

Felicity gazed into my eyes but said nothing.

“You OK? Anything wrong?” I enquired. Her vulnerability and apparent naivety excited me so much it scared me.

“No, nothing, it’s OK, just that … never mind,” she trailed off, then dragged me into a vibrant clothing store, giggling and exclaiming “Wow, look at what they have in here, Auntie!”

Felicity grabbed things off the rails, held them up to herself, twirled, posed, and asked my opinion.

“What do you think about this for strolling on the beachfront. How about this for the evening? Something to sleep in at the hostel?”

Then, picking some rather delicious looking bra and pantie sets on the way, a salesgirl ushered her into the changing room. I just had time to insist “You have maximum 400 Euros to spend, and only if you promise to pay me back!” I wasn’t sure if she heard, but one thing was for sure; she had excellent taste, and wasn’t shy about showing off her body. I looked forward to seeing those dresses (and underwear) on her.

About a quarter of an hour later she emerged wearing a very, very short cream dress that clung to her slim body and left almost nothing to the imagination. She obviously had no bra on underneath and I only hoped she’d put on some underwear as we’d all find out either way the first time she bent over.

She, I and the salesgirl congregated at the till. “That all comes to 485 Euros please,” the friendly employee chirped.

Felicity looked at me all doe-eyed. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away, but I do need enough stuff to get me through to Friday. I can pay you back, honestly.”

“No,” I insisted, “That’s too much. You’ll have to put something back.”

“But pleeeese, their stuff here is just so awesomely sexy and I could never buy anything like this at home. Mum would definitely not approve!” and she twirled round with her arms above her head. Yep, knickers. Well, a tiny matching cream thong actually.

“You look sensational in that, Flix,” I purred. Are you sure that’s not, erm … too short?”

She shook her head, her long blonde hair fell out of its makeshift pin-up and cascaded down onto her bare shoulders. My pussy throbbed a certain little message to my brain.

“Let me just take a photo of you in that then you must take it off and put it back on the rail.”

Felicity pouted. I fired off a couple of shots on my phone. She pirouetted; I recorded a short video. ‘I might need those later’, I mused.

The bubbly employee chipped in. “I could knock off 50 if that helps.”

“435? all in, including what she’s wearing?” I smiled and nodded.

She punched it through the till and I paid with my Pasionella platinum credit card. Felicity kicked one leg up behind her in a classic Pin-Up pose and planted a big kiss on my cheek. “Oh thank you so much … erm … Auntie.”

The salesgirl winked at me as we breezed out of the shop, Felicity carrying three bags on one arm and hooking her other arm through mine as we walked. Well, more like strutted, as she’d also chosen a nice pair of 3-inch heels.

“We should get something to eat,” I suggested, but Felicity stopped and looked at me earnestly.

“Did you find me a hostel room? You promised. Did you? I hope it’s a mixed dormitory room. I feel like getting totally fucked senseless tonight. Would take my mind off my stupidity”

I put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. My whole plan pivoted around this moment.

“Sorry, no.” (I hadn’t even tried).

Felicity looked crestfallen.

“I tried a couple that I know (which I hadn’t). They both said the town’s totally rammed full tonight. I put a call into the central tourist booking office, but they didn’t hold out much hope either. They took my number and said they’d call if anything comes up. I’m sure they’ll find you something.”

Felicity bit her bottom lip and looked sideways, thinking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she blurted. I noticed tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Felicity …”

She turned back to face me.

“You could sleep at mine tonight, and maybe we’ll find you a hostel bed tomorrow?”

She looked into my eyes, then shook her head. Her hair shimmied in the early evening sunlight. She looked even more stunning now than when I first saw her in that bikini and my intentions hadn’t changed.

“No Julia, no. I couldn’t possibly. You’ve been so kind to me, you’ve been a complete angel, but I can’t impose on you any more.”

“But it’s no trouble for me at all, really. I have a spare bedroom with its own bathroom. You can have a shower, freshen up. I can call to get some food delivered in and … you could show me the other clothes you chose … and which I’ve paid for, by the way.”

Felicity shook her head again and looked down.

“No, sorry, thanks for the offer. Maybe if you just let me call my Mum and face her wrath. I’ll make up a sob-story and she can transfer across all the money I owe you and then I’ll go. And she’ll never let me out of her sight again. If only I’d not missed that frickin boat.”

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