Jessie finds her inner self - Part 1, a short story by shyboy. Date added: 2011-04-22. Times viewed: 7897.
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- Intro: What next for the horny housewife? SoloF Toys Exhib UST
[Author's note: Please read previous Jessie adventures for the back story]
Jessie finds her inner self –Part 1
After escaping the clutches of 'Pa' and wearing out 'John boy' in less than 24 hours from when they had kidnapped her, Jessie was feeling bored.
Husband Barry was still away 'on business' in Eire, which Jessie knew was code for screwing anything in a skirt and with a gentle Irish lilt.
Damn him!' she thought to herself as she lay naked on the marital bed. 'Why should he have all the fun. I could have gone with him and felt the thickness of a few shillelaghs inside my own fairy ring . . . '
As she said these words her fingers automatically strayed down to her neatly shaped bush, where her juices were starting to dribble out of her labia at the thought of being laid by a Leprechaun armed with a mighty weapon.
Sliding off the bed Jessie crossed to the tallboy unit and felt inside her underwear drawer for her favourite special toy!
She'd bought a new pack of batteries only the day before, so she knew it was ready to do her bidding and, with seven settings, it was bound to give her the orgasm she craved. If not several.
'And no smelly man to break wind at the critical moment or cover me in his sticky jism and mess up my hair,' thought Jessie as she allowed the toy to rub gently around her nipples and breasts.
About the size of a large TV remote control – although much more fun when changing channels! – the bright red fibreglass vibrator emitted a kind of Morse code pulse that she found deeply satisfying.
Previously she had owned a small pink ‘pocket pleaser’ which she had found good for exploring anal stimulation, but nowhere near enough of a turn-on otherwise.
Cranking up the intensity level on her new best friend, Jessie soon felt aroused, her nipples standing proudly to attention. True it would have been nice to have a man there just then to give them a bit of a suck, but you couldn't have everything . . .
She had found over the years that the simplest way to play with her toy was to lean forward against the bedroom door, braced on one arm, using her other hand to operate the vibrator, but not today.
Today she wanted the full treatment and so she moved back over to the bed and leaned back against the pillows.
Moving down her body with the fibreglass phallus gripped firmly in her right hand, she tensed as the vibrations radiated around her groin area. Jessie deliberately avoided touching her labia, using the toy instead to rub up and down her inner thighs until she could stand it no longer and began to push the magic wand against her by now sopping wet pussy, aiming the vibrator's shaped head end directly at her clitoris.
God! That's SO good!' she murmured to herself, grateful as always that she could find exactly the right spot without having to be guided in as Barry normally needed to be.
'For crying out loud Barry,' she would say. 'You've been in there long enough now. Do you want a frigging map?!!'
Normally she would have allowed the toy to tease her clit for a few minutes before pushing it in deeper en route to her g-spot, but today she was feeling so horny that she pushed it firmly into her pussy until she could feel pulsating inside her vagina.
Squeezing her vaginal muscles together to hold the toy in place she pulled her voluptuous tits towards her mouth, and sucked on her nipples until her whole body began to shudder, heralding the arrival of another amazing orgasm.
Jessie felt hugely elated after withdrawing the vibrator and switching it off. But this was mixed with a self conscious feeling, almost of guilt, at being able to have so much pleasure by herself.
'Poor old Baz. He does try hard,' she mused. 'What I need is something to distract me until he gets back at the weekend.'
Cleaning her toy with baby bath wash and hiding it back under her panties in the drawer, Jessie had a shower and got dressed in her normal working clothes of grey tailored suit, blouse and modestly heeled shoes.
Although giving her the outward appearance of respectability, her choice of matching push-up bra and lacy crotchless briefs allowed her to feel sexy on the inside.
Flicking through the free newspaper that she found lying in the hallway when she came down from the bedroom, she turned to the events diary section and scanned its pages to see what she could do to take her mind off sex.
'Feeling lost?' asked one ad. 'Get back in touch with your inner self. Meet our team of experts for a free taster session at the Zen Centre, Frog Lane . . . '
'Might be worth a look,' thought Jessie to herself. 'I won't be able to get up to much mischief there anyway!'
The free taster session was due to start within the next hour, so grabbing her shoulder bag Jessie sashayed out to her car and drove across town towards Frog Lane.
The Zen Centre was in a former primary school, the grimy Victorian red brick building looking almost anonymous in the quiet suburban back street.
Inside, it was dimly-lit and the Reception area looked quite unwelcoming, hidden in the shadows of the inner lobby.
Jessie was ready to turn around and abandon her quest, but then a soft female voice said out of the semi-darkness: ‘Are you here for the free taster session?’
The sudden sound of her voice in the eerie silence of the building startled Jessie, who peered into the gloom to see who had spoken.
‘Oh, er hi!’ she said, falteringly. ‘Yes, I am here for the free taster session. Am I too late?’
The receptionist had moved around from behind her desk into the half light as Jessie was talking. She was dark haired and in her mid 30s, wearing a wraparound black and white top and long black velvet skirt. ‘I bet that’s a beggar to keep the bits off,’ thought Jessie to herself, looking the woman up and down.
‘No, dear,’ said the woman. ‘They’re in the inner sanctum waiting for you.’
‘Waiting for me? I didn’t know I was coming here myself until forty minutes ago!’ said Jessie as she followed the woman down a dark corridor, away from the reception area.
They reached a large oak door bearing a brass emblem of a lion’s head in the centre, holding a large brass ring in its jaws. The woman used both hands to turn this ring anticlockwise to open the door, which proved to be the entrance to the inner sanctum.
Before ushering Jessie inside, she whispered: ‘What’s your name sweetie?’
‘I’m surprised you don’t know that too!’ laughed Jessie, adding: ‘My name is Jessica, but everyone calls me Jessie.’
The woman stood back to allow Jessie to pass through into the cavernous inner sanctum, which had been the school assembly hall in a former life.
‘This is Jessica your worships, but she likes to be called Jessie,’ announced the guide as she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her with a resounding thud and the clank of the ring being turned back to keep it shut.
‘Worships?’ thought Jessie. ‘What IS this place?’
She could just about make out the outline of five other people in the gloomy hall, sitting in a circle of six chairs.
A tall, dark-haired, good looking, middle-aged man, carrying an ornately carved wooden staff, stood up and walked towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘Welcome Jessie. Please join our circle. We are about to begin the ceremony.’
‘Ceremony?’ asked Jessie, suspiciously. ‘What sort of ceremony?’ In her experience, whenever she had read some of her favourite erotic stories on line, the word ‘ceremony’ was associated with bad things happening, usually to a single female in some sort of bondage scenario.
‘Oh well, what the hell?’ she thought to herself as she followed the man over to the circle and sat down on the vacant chair.
There were three men in the circle and two women. The host, or Worshipful Master as the others called him, turned out to be a gentlemen’s hairdresser called Nigel from somewhere near Stourbridge in the West Midlands!
His male cohorts were Gordon, a short stout fairly plain looking tailor from Warwickshire and Arthur, average height and build, not a bad looker, who ran his own antiques business in Reading and oozed pots of cash.
They sat either side of the Worshipful Master, with Jessie sandwiched between the other two women facing the men.
She glanced at her fellow females and was not surprised to see that both were middle-aged churchy types, each with twinset and pearls outfits seen around women’s groups throughout the UK. They introduced themselves as Mathilda (‘but you can call me Tillie, my dear’) and Clarissa.
Jessie was glad that she had opted for the work suit when she got dressed earlier, although she was feeling a bit of a draught around her pussy from the crotchless panties. Maybe they had been a mistake! Never mind – too late now! The Worshipful Master was intoning!!
‘Welcome brothers and sisters to our humble centre of quiet contemplation and peace,’ he was saying. A special welcome to our newest recruit, Jessica, who I gather likes to be called Jessie. And so it shall be whilst she is our guest!’
A murmur of assent rippled around the circle and the others present all nodded in a friendly way towards Jessie, who crossed her legs and allowed the hem of her suit skirt to slide up her leg just a tad.
The other two women sucked in their breath disapprovingly and Jessie smiled to herself. She was going to have some fun here, she could tell!
The ceremony continued with the Worshipful Master reminding those present that they were there to learn how to get in touch with their inner selves, to forget the strains and stresses of the outside world and to rid themselves of any unhealthy thoughts or feelings, especially those of a sexual nature.
Jessie, who was finding Nigel’s delivery quite mesmerising and had entered a semi trance-like state, woke up at this final reference. ‘Rid myself of unhealthy thoughts or feelings of a sexual nature?’ she said to herself. ‘Not flaming likely!’
And she smiled across at the Worshipful Master and his two assistants, nodding her agreement to what was being said and re-crossing her legs to allow her hem to ride even higher up her legs.
She was rewarded by noting that Nigel also found the need to cross his legs at that moment. ‘Oh dear,’ thought Jessie. ‘I think the Worshipful Master is getting a bit of a hard on there!’
Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other two women nodding along to what Nigel was saying. ‘Yeah, right!’ she thought. ‘I bet you two haven’t had a sinful thought about the WM and his big stick in the past few minutes!’
As if to respond to this unkind thought, Tillie, who was sitting to her left, leaned across and said: ‘We’re getting to the part where they decide who is going to be the Chosen One. It’s all VERY exciting!’
Jessie looked back over at the Worshipful Master, who had tied his staff to an unseen cable hanging from the vaulted ceiling and was spinning it around his head.
‘By the powers vested in me by those here foregathered I hereby declare that the Chosen One shall be that person whom this adorned badge of my office shall touch first!’ he declared, as the carved staff spun around the circle on the end of the cable.
As it slowed down Jessie could sense that Tillie and Clarissa were willing it to touch them first, but she knew, from the moment she had first seen the glint in Nigel’s eye, that she would be the Chosen One.
It was written all over the giant bulge in his smartly tailored trousers!
As if her thoughts had been transferred telepathically to the carved wooden staff it swooped down towards Jessie and caught her a glancing blow on the top of her head. ‘Oi!’ she cried out. ‘That bloody well hurt!’
The Worshipful Master and his two assistants rushed forward to gather solicitously around her as she stood up rubbing her head. Tillie and Clarissa were mumbling under their breath, and Jessie thought she caught the words ‘tart’ and ‘bastard never chooses me’ escape from Clarissa’s lips, although she couldn’t be certain.
Smiling to herself she heard the Worshipful Master giving directions to his two assistants: ‘Take young Jessie here through to the ante-chamber and make her comfortable please. Ladies,’ (this to Tillie and Clarissa) ‘I’m sorry you haven’t been chosen on this occasion. Perhaps you will have better luck next week.’
He gave each woman the benefit of his charming smile and turned to follow the others into the ante-chamber.
This turned out to be a well furnished windowless room, with a chaise longue along one side, a small side table and two large sofas opposite.
At the far end of the room was another door, with something bulky hidden by a white cloth placed in front of it.
Jessie was escorted into the room by the Worshipful Master’s two assistants, who ushered her to one of the sofas and sat one each side of her, smiling lecherously. She could see that both were sporting visible erections beneath their shiny suits.
The Worshipful Master followed them in and closed the thick oak doors leading from the inner sanctum firmly behind him.
Standing in front of her as she sat demurely, flanked by her two escorts he beamed down from his lofty height and asked: ‘Can we get you anything? A drink, or . . . ?’
‘I’m fine thanks,’ said Jessie briskly. ‘So now that we’ve ditched the wrinkly sisters what happens next? Do you shag me one at a time or all three at once?’
As she said this she crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to ride up high enough to show the three men her crotchless panties and the tufts of brown pubic hair peeping out through the hole.
Jessie had decided that her best policy was to go on the attack, as she was experienced enough in this type of scenario to recognise a set-up when she saw one. ‘Let me rattle their cages a bit and see where that leads,’ she had been thinking as she was led into the ante-chamber.
Nigel spluttered incomprehensively at her words and his two acolytes suddenly found that they needed to adjust their clothing.
In fact, it proved all too much for Gordon who blurted out: ‘I’m sorry Worshipful Master, Jessie, Arthur’ – bobbing his head at each in turn as he said their names.
‘I just need to step outside for a second,’ he added in a high squeaky voice, before scurrying out of the room with a large wet patch spreading rapidly across the crotch area of his perfectly tailored trousers.
To be continued . . .
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