Diana’s Self-Liberation Ch. 02

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All characters are fictional and it isn’t autobiographical!

The reference to the lad being a nerd is intended to be his own, and other people’s perception so please don’t think there is any attempt to stereotype!


Thomas struggled all day to concentrate on his work. A couple of times colleagues had to nudge him or repeat themselves and raise their voices to attract his attention. One even asked if he was feeling okay; he replied that he was, and that he simply felt a bit tired. To his annoyance he found a couple of mistakes he had made, too, and had to correct them.

At his lunchtime he grabbed his jacket and sandwiches, and headed for the park nearby, glad to be able to clear his head.

Mrs Barrett. He found it almost impossible not to leer at her (though discreetly), and most mornings before going to her house for his lift to work he masturbated to the thought of her. Both acts made him feel guilty and ashamed. She was genuine, friendly and kind (she had offered to give him a lift to work without even being asked), and had a good sense of humour. And either she was unaware of his furtive leers or else she chose to ignore them.

Being in the car with her was both a delight and a torment. There was something inherently intimate about being alone with her, his hands just inches from her partly bared slender thigh. In his workplace there were girls and women who were younger and more attractive than she was. Not that Mrs Barrett was ugly or even plain, though. She was always smartly but not provocatively dressed. Maybe her age and married status appealed to him directly. Or maybe her easy-going manner and the fact that she was clearly unattainable simply made him feel more relaxed with her than with girls his own age.

Although he was twenty years old, Thomas had little experience with girls. He had attended an all-boys’ school, and although he had mates, his shy disposition never really allowed him to be comfortable with laddish socialising and excessive drinking. He had had a girlfriend, Dawn, for a couple of months, but she had finished with him some time ago. And, though he never admitted it to his friends, he was still a virgin. Dawn had allowed him to play with her breasts but never “below the waist.”

After considerable agonising he had once plucked up the courage to ask out Amy the receptionist from his workplace. Not only had she given an outright “no”, she had also wrinkled up her nose as if the very idea repulsed her. It didn’t help his confidence. And maybe it contributed to his lust for his forty-three year-old neighbour, Mrs Barrett.

Thomas knew that some people thought he was a bit of a nerd, but most people respected his ability to analyse situations. Yet the more he analysed Mrs Barrett’s behaviour that morning the more puzzled he became.

As he ate his sandwiches he re-lived the shock of that morning when she had splashed washing-up water down herself and changed her clothes right in front of him. He had seen her down to her underwear. She had even asked him to zip up her skirt! He racked his brain for a likely explanation. He could only think of three. Firstly, perhaps she was deliberately embarrassing him to pay him back for leering at her. But then, if she was uncomfortable with the way he looked at her, surely she would say something direct or make excuses not to give him a lift any more. And if she felt awkward when he was around she would hardly half-strip and ask him to zip up her skirt!

Secondly, he thought, she might have acted in all innocence, and he was reading his own wishful thinking into her behaviour. But a forty-three year old married woman would hardly think it normal and harmless to change down to her underwear in front of a young lad from across the road. The only thing that made any slight sense of this explanation was that she had apologised if she had embarrassed him.

The only other possibility seemed too ludicrous to consider. Might she, he wondered, have teased him in order to tempt him, to give him the come-on? But what was the likelihood of a woman married to a successful businessman seducing him, a non-athletic and slightly nerdy twenty-year old and shy lad who lived opposite her? Besides this, she had acted in the car immediately afterwards as if nothing at all had happened. The conversation had been even more one-sided than usual due to his embarrassment, confusion and excitement, and had been entirely trivial. He dismissed this possibility. It left no other one in his mind.

He glanced around the park to avoid looking too intense. He realised that his feelings for her had reached a new peak. He had now seen this neighbour whom he fantasised about in her bra and panties, her stockings and suspenders. What was more, she had even handed him her cotton blouse and asked him to put it in a bucket of water to soak! He had held it in his hands. The fabric had been soft — AND WARM in his hands — from its contact with the skin of this mature, married woman bahis firmaları who made him as horny as could be. Then, to cap it all, she had asked him to zip up her skirt. He had done so, his fingertips a fraction of an inch from her bum cheeks…

The stockings and suspenders were the other real mystery. He wondered if they were a treat for Mr Barrett when he arrived home. But why wear stockings for work if they were to benefit her husband? As she always arrived home from work long before her husband, why not just change when she got home? Could it be that this demure neighbour had a secret lover, maybe in the office where she worked? Still baffled, Thomas headed back to work, determined to concentrate harder on his job that afternoon.

For the next few mornings he deliberately arrived just as she was reversing the car out of the drive, to avoid having to go into the house. Their conversations in the car remained as stilted as ever; she did most of the talking, just idle chit-chat. It was as if he had imagined the whole thing, with just two slight differences. He struggled even more to avoid looking at her thigh and at her breasts as she drove the car. And he wondered whether she was wearing stockings again and, if so, for whose benefit.

There was one further difference, too. He masturbated to the thought of her each evening in the bathroom as soon as he got home form work, and then later when he went to bed, as well as each morning. In his mind’s eye he slid his hand inside her open skirt zip instead of fastening it, and stroked her bum cleft through the warm nylon of that navy blue underskirt. In his imagination she giggled, slapped his hand gently and playfully, and told him he was a naughty boy. But then in his mind she turned to him, and took him by the hand to lead him to her bed. The sheets were still warm from where she and her husband had screwed, then slept, the previous night, then screwed again that morning before leaving for work. Then, as he closed his eyes and jerked off, he imagined her stripping naked and begging him, Thomas to fuck her…


Diana also struggled throughout that day and the next few. She was torn between patiently allowing her partial strip to do its work in his head, and making a more positive move sooner. His arrival just in time for his lift the next few days made her wonder whether she had scared him off. But on the fourth day — the Friday — he arrived about five minutes before they needed to go. She had already rehearsed her plan.


He knocked on the door as usual, and stepped into the kitchen where she was waiting. A thrill went down his spine as he saw that she was wearing the very white, striped blouse that he had handled a few days previously. Under it her modest breasts looked shapely. He glanced immediately away, but he suddenly felt hot. He could not be sure, but she did not seem to be wearing a bra.

To make matters worse, she was wearing the same blue skirt that she had splashed (apparently accidentally), and that he had handled before placing it to soak in the bucket of water with her blouse. And she was wearing sheer black tights — or maybe even those stockings — again.

“Hi Thomas.”

“Hi Mrs Barrett.”

He tried to force a smile.

She picked up her handbag and checked its contents. His gaze automatically drifted to her breasts and he knew that she was DEFINITELY not wearing a bra. Her average sized breasts swung down as she bent forward, and they quivered arousingly as she straightened.

“You’ll be glad to know that I’ve done the washing-up already, Thomas — and not splashed myself today!” She laughed. He thought it was a bit forced. He felt himself blush, wondering why she was saying this when so far she had made no further mention of it.

“Oh, yes, right, Mrs Barrett,” he said, unsure what to say.

She stepped closer to him and smiled again. Between the buttons of her blouse he could see — a few inches away — the pale, bare skin of her breasts.

“I AM sorry if I embarrassed you on Monday morning, Thomas…”

“That… that’s alright, Mrs Barrett… you didn’t embarrass me. I didn’t mind… I… mean…”

He inwardly cursed his clumsiness. The more he said, the worse it sounded. He might almost as well have told her that, yes, he had enjoyed what she had shown and had imagined what she had kept covered, and had masturbated at the thought of her three times a day since it happened!

She laughed.

“Better stop there, Thomas. You nearly said that you liked what you saw! Well, as I say, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But… oh, sorry Thomas if this embarrasses you more, but…”

The room felt suddenly hot, but he knew it was him.

“The thing is Thomas — I had no wish to EMBARRASS you — but I DID wish to EXCITE you…”

He looked at her in shock and disbelief.

“Did… did it work, Thomas? Did you like what you saw?”

“I… er…” His mind was in turmoil. He had kaçak iddaa no idea what to say.

To his surprise she reached out for his hand and brought it almost to her breast.

“I was half-hoping on Monday that instead of ME dabbing my blouse dry, you would do it FOR me, Thomas… like this…”

He stared at her hand as it pressed his against her breast four times. Through her warm blouse her bra-less breasts gave way deliciously. He made himself pull his hand away.

“…. and I hoped, Thomas, that when I asked you to zip up my skirt, you would slip your hand INSIDE it instead and touch me up!”

She turned suddenly round, and to his surprise the zip of her skirt was open. She grabbed his hand and pulled it inside. His fingers met the warm, silky nylon of her underskirt and the firm rounded bum cheeks under it.

“Like that, Thomas!”

She turned round to face him and his hand fell away from her bum. She unfastened the top few buttons of her blouse. She pulled it swiftly open and he stared as her naked breasts were unveiled.

“Yes, love, I planned it all weeks ago– I just had to pluck up my courage and wait until the time seemed right.”

Her breasts were not particularly big and they sagged slightly, though if he had been more experienced he would have been surprised at their firmness for her age. Her nipples were flat but big, the areolae (though he was ignorant of the term!) were larger and darker than he had imagined. Their prominence gave them a cheeky, inviting appearance.

She stroked her breasts with her fingers. It looked very rude and arousing.

“I was hoping to be able to show you these… and ask you to touch and kiss them — maybe even SUCK them, Thomas, love. Would you like to?”

He knew it was wrong, but as she cupped his hand over her left orb he actively kneaded it, thrilling in the feel of it.

She guided his head down to it.

“Ohhh Mrs Barrett… we shouldn’t…”

“It’s been a long time since they were caressed and kissed, Thomas… kiss them and suck them for Diana, love… mmmnnhhh, Thomas, that’s nice…”

His breathing was uneven as he nuzzled and sucked on her semi-firm flesh. He tugged the nipple with his lips and felt it begin to swell and rise. His hand reached down and found the open zip of her skirt again and eased his hand inside, thinking of Dawn, his former and only girlfriend. She had always pushed his hands away when he had wanted to explore even just her thighs or to stroke her bum THROUGH her skirt. He cupped Mrs Barrett’s bum cheek INSIDE her skirt and squeezed it gently through the nylon of her underskirt. He rubbed the side of his finger into the cleft of her bum. She whimpered.

After a few minutes she lifted his face and kissed him on the mouth.

“We’ll have to go soon, love, but listen. My… my husband doesn’t pay me much attention any more. He prefers other women, and…”

“He must be mad, Mrs Barrett!” he blurted out. His boldness surprised him as much as it did her.

“Thomas, I have needs. I don’t want a love affair or complicated relationship. But… I was wondering whether… whether you would be kind enough to make a lonely old lady happy?”

She had rehearsed her words carefully in advance, having decided on the tack of him doing her a favour rather than a more brash approach. “Play the trout gently, if you want to land him!” she had reminded herself. She cupped his hand in hers and pressed it over her breasts again, nudging it in little circles, then guided his fingers to her hardening nipple.

“You’re not old, Mrs Barrett…”

“Thanks, Thomas. I’m not asking you to declare your undying love for me, or anything silly like that. I’m not asking you to commit yourself to me and be at my beck and call. Nor am I offering to be at yours. I’m just asking if… if a couple of times a week you fancy… we maybe shouldn’t call it making love, so excuse my French — SHAGGING — this lonely old neighbour of yours to cheer her up.”

Her unexpected boldness and unprecedented crudity shocked him. The out-of-date term “shagging” excited him. It seemed quaint, almost innocent and naive — in complete contrast to the way she was acting!

“I… I don’t know what to say, Mrs Barrett… I…”

“Then why not say YES, Thomas?”

He was too shocked to speak. He nodded his head, feeling stupid.

“Have… have you ever gone all the way, Thomas?”

He looked down at the floor, feeling too embarrassed to look her in the eye. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. The knowledge that she was seducing a virgin sent a thrill of excitement through Diana.

“There’s no shame in that, Thomas. You’re shy, that’s all. And that can be hard for a young man to overcome… but I could help your confidence if you like, love.”

She put a finger under his chin and raised his face to hers. She was smiling reassuringly at him, her slightly lined face tender and maternal. He no longer felt a loser.

“Would you kaçak bahis LIKE to go all the way, Thomas? Would you like to do it with your frustrated neighbour who’s a lot older than you are but VERY experienced? I could help YOU overcome your shyness, Thomas. And YOU could help with MY loneliness. Hmmm?”

He nodded, sensing the catch in her voice. Her husband must be a moron, he thought, to neglect her.

“Listen, love. We have to be very careful, very discreet. Some mornings we could have a quickie here before work. That would be fun, it would be very naughty. We’d arrive at work with a warm glow and a smile on our faces. But our first time should be slow and relaxed and special — for both of us. And it should be like that some other occasions, too…”

He gazed at his hand, still inside hers, and at the rippling flesh of her bared breasts as she guided him over their contours. He looked into her smiling face again.

“Tuesday night. I could meet you after work, or if you prefer you could make your own way there. It would definitely be best if we returned separately. The Travel Lodge — by the motorway junction. You know it?”

“Yes. Yes I know it, Mrs Barrett.”

“Good. We’ll confirm the arrangements on Tuesday morning. Now why don’t you fasten my blouse for me and zip up my skirt?”

His hands were trembling as they had a few days earlier, but this time with pure, suppressed excitement, as he buttoned her blouse, watching her breasts disappear from view, and zipped up her skirt. She laughed.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got my bra in my bag. I’ll go to the toilet as soon as I get to work and put it on.

He followed her to the door and to the car. This time he gazed more openly at her breasts through her blouse and at her bared slender lower thighs below her skirt hem as they journeyed. His mind was in a spin, unable to comprehend what was unfolding. Surreally she again spoke trivia as if nothing had happened, until they were just a few minutes away from the office where he worked.

She put her hand briefly on his knee and squeezed it.

“Don’t forget, Thomas. We must be discreet. No diary. No letters, gifts or cards –in any case this isn’t an affair as such. I’ll see you on Monday anyway and we can fix up the arrangements on Tuesday.”

He got out of the car and waved goodbye, desperately hoping that his erection would subside quickly and that he would be able to remain focussed at work.


It was now Tuesday, and the hour was approaching when her plans and her patient seduction would be fulfilled. She sat in the motel room feeling excited and nervous as she awaited his phone call. She had brought a small portable radio to mask their conversation from neighbouring rooms. She placed it well away from the bed and the dressing table and turned it on. She took a pack of condoms, and opened the wrapper from one. She tried not to look at her watch.

Although she was expecting it she still jumped when her mobile rang. It was a scratched and slightly battered second-hand one that she had bought especially, along with a new pay-as-you-go SIM card. She had written the word “WORK” on the back in felt pen. She had even made a number of calls on it to wrong numbers so that Thomas’s would not be the only number in her sent calls, just in case her husband or anyone else found it. She prided herself — and got a buzz from — all her meticulous planning.

She reached nervously into her bag for the other item that she had found and had half-concealed. It was an old, pocket sized cassette tape recorder. She had bought it several years earlier to learn lines for an amateur dramatic production. The previous week she had downloaded a free computer program and connection leads that could convert sound from an external source to a digital format and that allowed it to be edited, too.

She hesitated. It was very seedy, and a betrayal of Thomas’ trust. But, she told herself, this was HER party. She had planned it all. Besides, all she wanted was some lasting evidence of a man telling her she was sexy, desirable. The seconds were ticking by. Thomas would be feeling nervous and conspicuous, and might even lose his nerve and leave if she did not meet him quickly. She pressed the record button, covered all except the built-in microphone with the contents of her bag, and placed her bag on the dressing table.

She met him in the reception area, and made a point of formally shaking his hand, as arranged, as if they hardly knew each other.

“Yes, the meeting’s at seven and we can eat in a while. Can I just show you the agenda though — David?”

“Yes, fine, M.. Diana…” He only just remembered to use her first name.

She had booked a single rather than a double for the sake of discretion. The radio was already on quietly in the background. She removed her jacket, sat on the bed and gestured for him to sit beside her. She was bra-less under her blouse once more. She crossed her leg higher, and he stared as her skirt rode up high enough to show the lacy top of one shiny black stocking.

She smiled reassuringly as he sat beside her.

“I’ve been looking forward all day to this, Thomas.”

“Me too, Mrs Barrett.”

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