A Prologue to My Sexual Awakening

The mailman had just arrived and there was a small parcel left at my door. Like the other five packages that had arrived over the last two weeks, there was neither return address nor any other indication of who may have sent it. After looking at the wrapping carefully, to see if I could detect any other clues, I slowly unwrapped the package and extracted the written instructions.

They had all contained various items of clothing and kinky requests, daring me to do something that deviated from my normal routine behaviour in some way. At first I was sure that my husband had sent the parcels and I had complied with the instructions within, convinced that he must have sent the parcels. My husband was often reluctant to open up to me about his fantasies in the bedroom and had some degree of difficulty in voicing his preferences directly to me. It had been one of the things that had attracted me to him in the first place. I had hoped that he would loosen up, over time, and get over his shyness, not that I was very much different in that way.

Up until now the instructions had been relatively simple and apparently designed to loosen my inhibitions about my body to progressively greater degrees. The first five requests had been directed toward gratifying my husband’s desire to have me wear less clothing in his presence. Des had hinted for some considerable time, off and on, that he would like me to spend more time without the benefit of underwear, at least in our home. The last one had been to meet him at the door when he arrived home from work, totally naked, and lead him into the bedroom for a bout of lovemaking. The only item of clothing on this occasion had been a pair of expensive earrings, presumably as a reward for complying with the instructions. Again I complied, somewhat turned on by waiting behind our front door in the buff, before his arrival. I led him into the bedroom and suggested that I was hot to play. Needless to say, he was keen to oblige although I got the impression that he appeared genuinely surprised to find that I was so eager to have sex at that time of the day. None the less I enjoyed his ardent lovemaking and the unusual nature of its inception. Careful questioning that night had failed to completely convince me that he had sent the parcels. I was now becoming a lot more suspicious of the origin of these regular communications.

The letter inside the package contained the strangest and yet most intriguing request yet.

I almost made up my mind to ignore the instructions, before I opened the rest of the contents, but my natural curiosity was aroused at this point. I unwrapped the gift section to reveal a black satin scarf and a blindfold. The instructions were to wear the short skirt that I had been sent in package three and the see through blouse from package two, no underwear at all and no shoes. At 12-30pm. I was asked to drive to a local motel, where the key would be in the door of unit five, and park outside. Then I had to go inside and put on the blindfold and wait for a period of half an hour, seated on the bed. My husband normally lunched between 1pm and 2pm and the motel was not far from his office. I was torn between the desire to ignore the letter and ring him up about the request or whether to simply comply one more time. I was concerned that it may spoil his fun, assuming that he had sent the parcels, setting back the adventure that he was attempting to introduce to our sex life. On the other hand all the other instructions had proved harmless enough and had resulted in more spontaneous sex between us. I decided to take a chance and go to the motel, as instructed, but I would wear a pair of panties and a bra. As the time for departure grew closer I was getting more nervous and wondered if I should follow the instructions more closely after all. At the last minute I removed my bra and tied the satin scarf around my breasts and put my blouse back on. My nipples were quite erect and clearly showed through in the mirror but at least my breasts were decently covered. The skirt was short and I decided to wear panties, until I arrived at the motel at least, and then remove them in the car, if there was nobody around, outside the unit.

I drove over to the motel, keenly aware that the satin scarf hugged the contours of my breasts far more closely than any bra that I owned and highlighted the erect state of my nipples. When I stopped at the lights I rested my arm, covering my breasts, until the lights changed again. I was nervous when I arrived at the motel but there were no other people around and the key was in the door, so I slipped off my knickers and tucked them under the seat, out of sight. I sat there for a few moments, debating the wisdom of my actions and nervously glancing around the area, to make sure that there was nobody else around the vicinity. I opened the door and felt the breeze caress my vaginal lips as I stepped out of the car. I was surprised at how wet I was, down there, and the fresh air around my genitals made my nipples stand out like beacons. I quickly locked up the car and made my way to the unit door, checking that there was nobody inside, before entering. There was an envelope on the table, addressed to me, standing against a vase full of fresh flowers. I sat down to read the contents, after shutting the door and closing the curtains of the unit, reconciling myself to the likelihood that the message was from my husband.

He had often hinted at the possibility of me shaving my pubic area completely and keeping my vaginal lips smooth and hairless for him to admire. I had recently done as he asked, but retained a small patch of hair above my clitoris which I trimmed regularly, hoping that he might be tempted to provide me with oral sex. So far this had not happened, although I kept hoping that it might in the future. The other girls in the office had all boasted about the delights of having a man bringing them to orgasm this way, and I had yet to experience this for myself. We had been married for six years and I was twenty six now, still anticipating that his inhibitions in this area may change someday. Des and I had always enjoyed our lovemaking together, but our strict upbringing by our parents had introduced a lot of guilt about the sex act. For a long time I had faked orgasm and only recently I had allowed myself to vocalise my delight at finally attaining an orgasm. In some ways, I sometimes wished that Des would be more masterful and lead the way toward a better and more satisfying sex life for both of us. I often fantasised about being used by different men at the same time, while we made love and on these occasions I would often orgasm in a far more satisfying way. Des had begged me to open up to him about my fantasies and I wished that I had the courage to tell him but I was unable to be candid with him about the majority of them.

My heart fluttered with nervous tension, as I read the words on the sheet of paper before my eyes:

Remove your skirt and blouse and leave them on the chair. Take the satin scarf and the blindfold into the bedroom and lay on top of the bed with the satin scarf beside you. When you are comfortably relined, with your legs apart, exposed to my view, place the blindfold over your eyes and wait for me.

The note was typewritten and unsigned, similar to all the other communications received so far, but I had a strong feeling that Des had written it. Many a time he had hinted that I should go outside the house, or for a drive with him, without wearing panties. I had always refused, in a light hearted but firm way, pointing out the perils of my bottom becoming exposed to some stranger if the wind should lift my dress. I had compromised by going without underwear within the confines of our home, as long as my dress was of reasonable length and made from suitably heavy material.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was close to 1pm and I expected that he would soon be arriving. A strange excitement grew as I hesitantly removed my blouse and unwrapped my breasts. The door was unlocked, although I had removed the key and brought it inside with me, once I arrived. My nipples were erect and goose bumped, almost fully engorged with anticipation of the expected encounter ahead, when I folded the scarf and placed it on the table next to the blindfold. My breasts were now fully exposed to anybody entering the room and I nervously fiddled with the buttons at the top of the short skirt. Only the thought of Des, burying his face into my exposed vagina, stimulating and sucking at my engorged clitoris, gave me the will to let my skirt drop to the floor and pick it up. Now I was fully naked in a strange motel room, more vulnerable than ever, with the bedroom only a few metres away. I quickly folded my two items of clothing and placed them on the chair, grabbing the scarf and blindfold and scooting into the bedroom before the unit door opened. I closed the bedroom door and surveyed the interior of the room. Thankfully, I noticed a do not disturb sign on the interior knob of the bedroom door and a shower and toilet en suite attached to the main bedroom. The room was tastefully decorated and the bed looked comfortable and inviting. I placed the blindfold on the pillow and the scarf on the opposite side of the bed to the side that I was used to occupying with my husband. I reached around the door to hang the sign on the opposite doorknob, glancing longingly at the clothing on the chair, then closing the door again.

In spite of my certainty that I was expecting my husband, and nobody else, to walk into the room, I was overwhelmed by a sense of fear that I had not experienced in a long time. I comforted myself with the thought that there were items in the room to cover my nudity with, in the event that a total stranger may enter the room and discover me standing beside the bed. I looked inside the en suite and there were guest towels hanging on the rail beside the shower cubicle and of course there were the bedclothes on the double bed. Typical of motel rooms with en suite facilities, there was no lock on the toilet door, no secure refuge in the event of some traumatic event.

I sat on the bed, sensing the unfamiliar material of the duvet cover directly on the naked flesh of my bottom, wondering if I should grab my clothing and leave immediately. With some trepidation, I lay back in the bed with me head on the pillow next to the blindfold, opening my legs toward the bedroom door and exposing my trimmed vagina to an imaginary stranger standing beside the open door. All manner of scenarios ran through my fevered imagination, as I reached for the blindfold with my left hand, shaking uncontrollably with fear of the unknown. What if Des hadn’t sent the parcel and the note in the motel room was from a complete stranger, with similar fantasies to my beloved husband, intent on having his way with me. All the other parcels involved a degree of daring, within my own home, safe in the knowledge that only my husband was likely to benefit from the unusual requests contained in the instruction notes. To ask me to go outside the house, without underwear and wearing a see through blouse, had really been stretching my limits a bit far. Laying in a strange room, waiting for him completely naked, exposing my most intimate parts to him as he came through the door was new territory for me. The surprising thing was that I actually complied with his request and, almost, obeyed all the instructions so far. The panties were hidden beneath the seat of my car and he would not know that I had used the scarf as a makeshift bra to cover my breasts on the way over. The blindfold was one of those soft velvet types, used by people that slept during the day or movie stars, completely blocking out any light from view. I picked it up and put in it place, covering my eyes and immediately feeling a sense of helplessness. The strange thing about it was that the sensation of the soft material over my eyes provoked a sexual response, an almost pre orgasmic reaction, inside my body. I could feel my nipples harden more and my exposed vaginal lips stiffen with desire. I gasped as I touched my swollen clitoris and felt the moisture between my legs. At that precise moment I heard the outer door close and footsteps inside the motel unit. Every fibre of my nervous system went on red alert and I had to fight to control the urge to rip off the blindfold and run into the adjoining en suite and shut the door.

I almost lost the battle when my hands flew to my head and my legs closed automatically in a defensive movement. Gingerly I lay my hands back at my sides and parted my legs a little more again. I heard the door handle turn and I knew that it would be too late to change my mind. My body stiffened with anticipation and I did my best to relax and conjure up the image of Des pleasing me in a way that I had yet to experience.

The soft creak of the door hinge, as it opened, alerted me to the presence of another person in the room. I lay there, desperately hoping that that person was my beloved husband, shaking with nervous tension. I don’t believe that I had ever felt so fearful and sexually vulnerable in my entire life before. I forced myself to stay on the bed, parting my legs even further to allow my husband to feast his eyes on my newly shaven vaginal lips, hoping to hear a reaction of some sort, at least. I strained my ears, hoping to hear a familiar friendly voice expressing pleasure that I had responded so positively to the instructions in the parcel and the envelope inside the motel room. Instead, all I could hear was the sound of the door closing and an exhalation of breath in the form of a low whistle. My husband, or the mystery admirer, was in the room taking in the sight of my naked body stretched out before his eyes. Footsteps came closer to the bed and I sensed that it wouldn’t be long before I felt his hands reach out to me and touch some part of my body, reassuring me that it was my husband and that I hadn’t made the most dreadful mistake. Every agonising second that passed, seemed like an eternity and brought fresh doubt into my mind.

My need to be sure that the other person in the room was Des, and not some lecherous individual who had chanced upon an open room in the motel and resolved to investigate the interior of the unit, made me unable to stop my hand from reaching for the blindfold. My hand was gripped securely by the wrist and a hoarse voice whispered;

“Not yet!”

Still slightly unsure, I allowed my hand to be guided back to where it lay before I made my move, more certain that it was Des than before. I heard the rustle of clothing dropping to the floor and felt the bed move slightly, as if someone was putting their weight on the bottom of the bed between my legs. I sensed a hand reaching over me and I felt the smooth satin material of the scarf trail over my body, teasing and electrifying my flesh as it moved over my breasts and downward over my navel toward my pubic area. By now my nipples were aching with wanton desire and my clitoris was fully engorged with blood, causing me to murmur and moan softly with the pleasure I felt as the material passed over my vaginal lips and between my inner thighs. No longer able to restrain myself, both hands flew upward to the mask that covered my eyes and I moved it to rest on top of my forehead. There, in front of my eyes, crouched between my legs with his knees on the bottom of the bed, was my husband Des. He looked startled and almost embarrassed to be discovered with his head directly above my crotch. A moment passed and he gave me a warm smile. I reached up and pulled his head downward, signalling my desire for him to continue his intended path and stimulate my waiting vagina with his tongue, as he had obviously intended. With my approval so apparent, he buried his face between my legs and slowly ran his tongue along my vaginal lips toward my clitoris, stopping just short of the patch of hair that I had left intact. The electrifying sensation brought me to new heights of pleasure and I moaned with approval, caressing his head and guiding him while I raised my hips toward him and parted my legs as far as I could, to facilitate his oral attentions. I was so caught up with the new experience that I behaved more wantonly than I would have believed possible. Now his tongue was flicking at my clitoris and I could feel an orgasm approaching rapidly. My body began to twitch involuntarily, and I held his head tightly, but he pulled away and moved up between my legs, positioning himself to couple with me normally. Although I was slightly disappointed I guided his penis into my vagina and allowed him to press his member fully inside me. He seemed more tumescent than normal and the throbbing of his penis excited me as he began to stroke me from within. I hugged him, in a vain attempt to slow him down and, to prolong the moment of ejaculation for as long as possible. We both came together, in one of the most satisfying orgasms that I had experienced in a long time.

I hoped that Des was not annoyed with me for removing my blindfold or had been embarrassed by my eagerness to continue this form of foreplay. Sometimes I had assisted him to achieve full erection by taking his penis into my mouth and gently flicking the underside of his member with my tongue. I had always stopped short of any chance of ejaculation, uncertain of what he expected me to do if my ministrations went so far, and guided his erection between my legs to my moist vaginal opening. Occasionally he would try to enter my bottom, pleading with me to try anal sex. Although the idea of anal entry was appealing, in some ways, I had always found it painful as Des tried to press his erection through the sphincter muscles. As much as I tried to relax, the fear of internal damage and the pain that I felt, precluded success in this area up until now. With lubrication he had succeeded in entry once or twice but any movement that he attempted produced a negative response in me and he had abandoned any further attempt to satisfy himself in this way. I often wondered was the sensation of anal ejaculation would feel like and I had speculated that it might produce an orgasm with a little manual stimulation of my clitoris at the same time.

We lay there in each others arms for a long time, without saying anything, stroking and caressing. I was glad that I had pleased Des by following his instructions and meeting him for lunch. Hesitantly, I asked him whether he enjoyed meeting me in the motel in such unusual circumstances. He looked slightly embarrassed but nodded his head vigorously and smiled. It was an awkward moment, and upon reflection I realised that I should have handled the situation in a different way, but I told him that I hadn’t wanted to go outside the house in the outfit that he had selected for me. I meant to modify his approach in the future and explain my embarrassment at being asked to go without underwear in such a revealing outfit. Somehow the words appeared to deflate my husband’s newly acquired sense of adventure and he apologised to me with a somewhat terse expression on his face. Immediately I tried to explain my position, and reassure him that I loved him dearly, but the more I tried to explain my point of view the worse the situation became. Des had obviously taken the first faltering steps toward loosening the inhibitions that we had both grown up with.

His previous sexual experience with other girls had been limited to teenage groping and furtive nocturnal gratifications, as peer pressure mounted to score notches on his bed post.

Although I hadn’t been a virgin when we married, my level of sexual experience was similar and after six years of conventional sex I probably needed some adventure as much as he did. I was reluctant to show off my body, as he would probably have wished, and harboured an enormous amount of guilt about some of my forbidden fantasies.