From one who can't refuse

Some fifteen minutes later, Sara had rolled herself over. Apparently now perfectly happy to have you massage her front as well. You got the distinct impression that the revelations about who her new neighbour really was had piqued her interest in more ways than one. The invested manner in which she chatted away with you and offered more and more of her body up to be stroked and kneaded, spoke of a woman who simply did not get enough of a chance to unload her worries and tensions in day to day life. You suspected the life of a single mother nurse, still studying for further promotions… was a lonely and insular one, especially now her son was old enough to head out into the world.

You had started with her legs and feet on this side… still slightly shy of how confidently this still veritable stranger had unveiled her magnificent breasts in front of you. She wasn’t exactly a beauty queen: dark, tangled hair spilling out from its bun, strong angular features granting the intensity that her son somehow wore prettier. But her curving, mature form was toned and womanly in ways you could not help but feel a little jealous of. Her thighs told tales of years spent running to keep fit between shifts, and waist of meals skipped as problems on the ward dragged her and her colleagues away from their lunch. She was imperfect and pointy and lumpy and squishy in all the ways humans were and thus was unquestionably perfect in your eyes. You were not shallow in picking which masters you served… if they had any skin, then you longed to caress it.

Still not quite sure of how intimate Sara wanted you to get, you pushed on past her simple cotton panties and on to push fingers into the musculature of her stomach. You were running out of places and techniques that a polite and healing massage between neighbours might end up. In fact, it almost seemed like the woman was testing how far you would proceed on your own… keeping you distracted with chatter about unrelated things while your hands were **** to just keep wandering. Till, all of a sudden… she simply asked:

"So, do you like to make ladies feel good too, Sam? Is that why you’re trying so desperately not to look at my tits right now?"

You nodded, slowly… Aware of how close your fingers had now gotten to her bare and ample chest. Aware that you had somehow ended up sat straddling this woman’s pelvis with only your own lacy red panties between her and the plug still buried in your asshole. Could she feel that?! You wondered; a new worry to grab hold of.

The woman seemed to be calculating something, staring up at you. Readjusting her view of the world in general a little… just to accommodate this strange new creature she’d encountered. "Well, you've certainly done a wonder for my shoulder… but I've got to say… It's been a long, long time since I've found myself this close up and cozy with anyone…"

She reached up and stroked your cheek. Your rosy-painted lips. "I never thought I'd say this to someone I've just met yesterday… in a miniskirt and heels, no less. But, could you maybe… do a little more for me? I think… I think, perhaps… That a walking, talking dildo is just what I need, right now.”

Nothing more needed to be added. You leaned forward into the woman’s embracing kiss in an instant. It hadn’t even entered into your head, that barely one week into your new life… you’d be snogging the sexually frustrated older woman next door. Feeling the squish of her oh-so-real breasts against your own falsely-padded bra. The churn of her stomach muscles between your smooth, bare thighs. However, once someone, anyone, instigated eroticism… your true nature just took over. Your compulsion to please. To grovel and worship. To grant them whatever naughty, little dreams they had of you. If Sara wanted you to be her silicone secret under the bed… then there was nothing else you could be. That was the great gift and the curse of Sissyhood: If someone wanted you, you were theirs. It didn’t matter how much you loved and adored Ben, you could not resist the call to serve.