Paying Him Bac

Fucking a friend's mistress, and more………..

Paul has always annoyed me. I do not know why I count him among my friends. May be it is because he attracts beautiful, vulnerable women.

He remains a successful consultant physician, but he cannot keep his hand off his female patients. He had been through four wives when he met Val. One after another they left him. I knew them all, and I have remained friends with most of them, even after Paul had been ejected from their lives. Every time they left, for the same reason. They realised that he was carrying on with one patient after another.

I do not understand why he hasn't been reported to the relevant medical authorities. He has not, so he continues to philander his was through life, believing that he is invulnerable.

His last "proper" wife left when she realised that he had started up with Val. The latter was an unsuspecting housewife, mother, and businesswoman, who had become a patient.

He decided that he fancied her, so he made his plays. He treated her husband like a cuckold, when he was actually the problem. He invited them to parties, then courted, and kissed, the poor girl openly in front of her delightful husband.

He is a bastard, and it began to annoy the few friends he had left. It made me livid!

This man is an only child. He was very spoilt. No, doting parents indulged him. He always "got his way", he would never take "no" for an answer. He finally stole Val when he arrived at her front door in the middle of the night demanding that she came to live with him.

I had not met her when this happened, but he was always discussing how he would catch her, every time we talked on the ‘phone. It made me cross. Finally it annoyed me so much that I hung up on him.

Yet she must have found something attractive in this spoilt brat. She walked out on her husband dressed only in a nightdress.

I had been staying, with Paul, for the odd night or two every other month, when on business trips out of state. I realised that things were out of hand when I visited, to find that his last wife had left, and he could not stop talking about this "Val".

A week later he stole her in the middle of the night.

I put up with his sexual ravings for two selfish reasons. He has a fine wine cellar, so I could drink without driving, and he was cheaper than a hotel.

Then I met her.

She was about half his age, petite, and pretty. Mad curly, natural blond, hair spilt down to her shoulders. She was tiny, hardly five feet tall, but perfectly proportioned to my taste.

I have always loved the company of small intelligent women. She was one. She had long legs, a small bottom, and, from what I could discern through her clothing, wonderful, small, rounded breasts. All this beauty was allied to a razor sharp mind.

She was like a doll, and I lusted for her.

Well not at first, but the more I got to know her, the more I wanted her myself.

Paul continued his philandering ways, and I began to find excuse to stay a night, or two, more than I had previously.

The habit developed for about a year and a half. I saw more, and more, of them both. Sometimes we would meet at the local Italian restaurant before I went to his house. It saved Val the bother of cooking.

She had her own successful business, and did not particularly like cooking.

I think he enjoyed my company, and was too engrossed in his own self to notice that I had begun to flirt openly with his new partner.

I started to hope that she was enjoying my increased attention. She was reacting to my compliments. She would look down, blushing to the roots. Then slowly raising her eyes, sometimes to wink, or smile slightly, when our eyes met again.

We were about sixteen months into our friendship before I knew that I was having the right effect. We were in a restaurant eating dinner. Val and I were sitting side by side. Paul was opposite. He was engrossed in his own importance, talking away, probably to himself.

I lent over to her, and whispered: "I love your clothes tonight, where do you buy them?"

Paul went on talking, she whispered back: "I will tell you later."

She appeared to be wearing skin tight Lycra, and nothing else, except for a light shawl, that made everything passably discrete. I had only seen dress like this, once before, on a cross-country skiing holiday.

A beautiful Dutch ballet dancer skied with us every day. She wore an all over skin, and nothing else. It showed every detail of her body. It was the brightest scarlet, she was a superb skier, and might as well have been nude.

Her breasts were small, and perfect. Her nipples appeared continuously erect, and her cunt lips, and ass crack, were completely outlined as the Lycra stretched between her legs.

Val was dressed in the same manner, except that her skin was very dark blue. It was the first time that I saw the outline of her nipples. I had to imagine that her cunt lips would also be visible.

Her hand lightly touched my knee. It slid far up towards my crutch, her fingers executed a playful dance on my inner thigh, then they vanished.

Paul continue to rant on oblivious of this.

She did not tell me about her clothes.

He was already hurting her. I knew his ways.

I had seen it all before, so I invited him out to lunch at the best local restaurant.

He waxed lyrical about her from the moment that we were seated. I had heard it all before. Each time he extolled the virtues of the four wives, and other "friends", whom he slotted in between. I stopped him dead. I told him that I was fed up with his behaviour, and that I could not understand how he got away with it.

I said that, of all his women, Val was the best, and that, at his age, he would not find another.

Then I said: "If you do not stop, I will personally report you to the authorities."

"She has told me how you arrived, like a spoilt child, in the middle of the night. She told me how you sat, horn blaring, while she argued for you to stop".

"I do not understand why her husband did not go to the authorities about you."

He blustered over the last comment, becoming steadily more furious that I was challenging his ground. Finally his temper got the better of him, he jumped up, clenching a fist across the table, and shouted:

"How dare you threaten me"?

My reply was very measured. Other diners were looking at us. They were staring at him. I growled, very quietly, in a completely calm voice:

"Sit down, shut up, and listen."

"I am much bigger, and stronger, than you. If you hit me, I will prosecute you for common assault, and you will definitely loose everything."

He sat down, still boiling with rage, but completely deflated.

About two weeks later a business meeting finished early. It was the Friday before Halloween, which that year fell on the Sunday. I had arranged to stay the night with them as usual. I ‘phoned the house to see if I could arrive early. Val was there alone.

She was sobbing, as she said: "Please come as quickly as you can. We need to talk."

I clambered into my car, and covered the fifteen miles exactly at the speed limits. She was at the door as I locked my car, tears flooding down her face. She did not say hallo; there was no welcome. She turned, and led me into the kitchen.

The front door gently shut, and she faced me. I was amazed to see that she was wearing the skin again, and nothing else. More importantly, her right wrist was in plaster.

She began to talk. The gist of the story of her injury was as follows.

His reputation was so bad that she had already been warned that he would continue to philander. She knew his last ex-wife, whom I also knew. Bizarrely they had become good friends, and she had come to warn her. She had realised that Val was slipping further into his grasp, and, out of love for her, wanted it to stop.

Once Val's tear flow had slowed down I asked about the plaster.

There had been an argument three nights before. She wanted a big Halloween party. He only wanted a few friends, so he could show off and drink. The argument began to turn nasty. She was holding her own, telling him that she knew what he was doing, and that it had to stop. She raised her arm to wipe the mass of curly hair from her face.

He interpreted this action as though this small, beautiful woman was going to strike him. He grabbed her wrist so hard that he cracked a bone.

He had no feeling about what he had done, although it calmed him down. All he could say was that she should tell everybody that she had tripped down stairs.

I was the only one who knew the truth.

As she calmed down I saw more of what she was not wearing. Somehow, even with her right wrist in plaster, she had managed to dress in the one-piece Lycra skin.

It began to drive me nuts!

Every inch of that beautiful petite frame was only covered by a single, micron thick, layer of three way stretch material. She was as exposed as the gorgeous ballet dancer had been. Her breasts were tiny round globes. They might have been enhanced, but they were very small, and I doubted it.

Her nipples stood straight out on the peak of each. The material was thin enough for me to distinguish the change of surface where her areola began. It followed her contours exactly.

She could have been nude, but a layer of slightly glossy dark blue, paint like, material covered her. She knew exactly how sexy she looked.

I said: You realize that you are turning me into a lecherous old man like Paul."

She replied that I could never be like him, but personally I was not sure. All men can be bastards when it comes to sex.

She allowed her knees to fall apart. I had been right in the restaurant. Her labia major, even the outline of her minora, and her clitoris, were sculptured, yet covered by the stretch material. This was showing a slight change in color.

She was bare beneath the stretch skin, very exposed, very vulnerable. It appeared that was how she wanted to be. She wanted to show me her arousal.

We began to talk about Paul. My reaction was to tell her to leave him immediately. She would not hear of it. I told her that it wasn't the first time that he had been violent towards a loved one. She was adamant that she would stick it out.

I went through all the alternatives. She began to expand on her relationship. I have said that she was a successful businesswoman. She had never taken a penny of Paul's money, and was even paying "rent" at $150.00 per week towards the enormous house.

She had paid for all the redecoration, and the new kitchen out of her own pocket. He had not said a thing, or offered to help.

This interested me enormously, because Paul was not poor. He was a very wealthy man having been left money, plus property, by his doting parents, and various other members of his family. It amused me that his behaviour towards Val's upkeep might be backing him into more of a legal quagmire.

She had not realised that this could be the case. The thought also amused her enormously.

She sprang from the stool where she had perched, and darted around the kitchen table. Her arms, even the one in plaster, were flung around my neck. I braced my back muscles as the hard plaster hit. She leapt up, knees apart, lower legs wrapping around me. She was glued to my middle like a young chimp to its mother.

Then we were mashed together in a huge sloppy kiss.

I gasped out: "I have wanted to do that for so long."

She replied: "I know you have, and the feeling is mutual".

We continued to kiss as my hands began to explore her body.

I have a short tongue. She has a long one. It snaked around the inside of my mouth. She explored every nook and cranny, massaging my gums with the tip in a way that I had never experienced before.

I held her tight by the waist, feeling that my enormous hands might completely encircle her tiny body. But her bum was only a few inches away, and her breasts were squashed against my business suit.

My hands wanted to start a journey of discovery. Feeling her skin for the first time through that miraculous material was strange. She was pliant, fleshy and flexible, but the surface was slippery, and contained.

My hands stayed holding her back tight to my body.

I began to lust after her breasts.

I broke our kiss, and brushed a run of kisses down her neck to exposed skin. She bent to allow me access. I kissed down the valley between her breasts. My goal came into view. My murmuring lips slowly caressed back onto the material, towards her rising. I could see the peak of her left nipple out of the corner of a half opened eye.

Suddenly she was stock still, she knew where my mouth was heading, and played every part of her female guile to help me there.

My mouth slithered onwards, leaving a drooling streak of saliva. She was rigidly erect as I opened my lips, and began to suck through that amazing material.

Breast men, and I regard myself as one; do not simply kiss an offered nipple. They are annoyed by the cursory attention that ordinary mortals pay to that source of life. Porn films are the worst. Men have a quick grope, and a stupid pull, when the girl wants more.

Breast men succor, they chew, they bite, they stretch, they kiss, they nuzzle. Most nipples respond correctly. They become engorged, longer, harder, firm and thicker. Many women can orgasm from careful attention to their breasts.

Val, and her nipples, reacted to my ministrations.

The extraordinary thing was that it did not matter that there was a thin skin of Lycra in the way. It moulded in everywhere, especially as a wet patch of slobber spread onto her breast.

She moaned, and pressed my mouth harder to her body. Her little breast flattened against my face. I could hardly breathe.

I opened my mouth as wide as possible. I felt as if I could swallow her complete breast, but my fingers had located the other nipple, and it required similar attention. Soon both teats were hard, and firm, on the tips of her globe shaped breasts.

My hands went exploring.

This gorgeous elf clung to my body. Her legs wrapped tighter, she was trying to entwine her feet in the small of my back. It made me realize that the more she stretched, the more exposed her cunt must be becoming. My hands followed my thoughts.

Fingers caressed slowly down her spine, savoring the feeling of each node of her backbone, dancing. They massaged down to that little dent at the base. Had she been lying on her back, naked, I might have pooled a drop of spit into the hollow. It would have worked her into frenzy. She was not; she was taut, and stretched.

I was still suckling her right nipple, when I reached the point of no return. My roving fingers moved on down the deepening, defining, crack to her back hole. My little fingers performed a circular dance at her entrance, before continuing on their path of discovery.

She had stopped breathing. She knew where I would go next, and so did my fingers.

I thought: "I wonder how miraculous this material really is."

Then, simultaneously, I forced the two middle fingers of each hand upwards; scoring a direct hit on her hole of love, while I bit hard on her right nipple, and pulled it from her body.

The reaction was extraordinary. My fingers had so much force in them that they began to lift her off my waist. She let out a long wail, and started to shudder, twitching through an enormous orgasm, that tightened her grip on my waist to a strangle hold.

She screamed: "That is impossible, nobody has ever done that for me before".

"Please continue to hold me, I cannot not stand."

She continued to whimper; no, she continued to purr, as the involuntary twitching subsided.

I looked down to see that I had bitten right through the fabric over her breast. I had formed a clean hole, with a gorgeous, wet, swollen nipple, sticking straight out into the evening air.

Gingerly I moved my fingers, pressing into the boundaries of her cunt. The miracle material was intact, and I thought: "Well we can embroider something over the new hole".

Val's reaction was more positive. She giggled an interpretation of my thoughts: "It is lucky that I have several of these. This one will have to be exclusively yours! Maybe we will modify it, with more holes, in the near future."

What an invitation, I began to realize that I was capable of falling in love with this beautiful woman.

Her next statement shocked me. She said: "Paul will be back soon, I doubt that he would understand what we are doing. He thinks I am totally his. Both he, and my husband, are in and out men, missionary only, and very boring".

"Why don't you come with me while I change into another skin, I will need help."

She took my hand, and we rushed up stairs to a room that, during her redecoration of the whole house, she had converted into her dressing room.

It was a beautiful bright, feminine room bathed in the late afternoon sun. She dropped my hand and spun around on her Lycra clad feet.

"A while ago, over dinner, you asked me how and where I found these skins".

"Shortly after Paul stole me from my husband he went skiing. He insisted on going to his "favorite place".

"I asked, if there was any good cross country. He could not have cared less."

"I have always adored cross country, so I went on my own to a resort specializing in langlauf ".

"They had these wonderful new all over skins, it was very hot, so I treated my self to six or seven."

I told her of the beautiful Dutch dancer, with whom I had completed an Olympic 50 kilometer run. She wore an all over skin, and nothing else. It showed every detail of her body. It was the brightest scarlet, and she was a superb skier.

Val said: I have blue, green, and red. Paul has seen me in the blue today, I think I should wear the second one now".

"The only way in is like a sausage skin". I peel it on from the bottom up, and off in reverse. My daughter has been coming over to help, and I have to try not to pee".

"I just struggle in the evenings. I will not ask Paul, but please can you help me now".

She stood, facing me, looking completely defenseless, and shy. Her arms were down by her sides. She waited, obviously expecting me to peel the Lycra from her gorgeous body.

I hooked three fingers into the shoulders of the scooped neckline, above where my kisses had so recently traced. I stretched the miraculous material until it was clear of her shoulders, and continued to peel it down her body.

It was one of the most erotic things that I have ever done.

There was I, still dressed in a dark blue, lightweight, three-piece suit. It was bespoke tailored, so I dressed well, but my penis was rampant, jutting straight out at the middle of her tummy.

I was slowly peeling the clothes off this gorgeous girl, whom I had just given a massive orgasm.

I continued to pull downwards. More, and more of her delectable flesh began to appear. Half the upper curve of her breasts was exposed, when I realised that I had her in a completely compromising position. Some of the stretch material was locking her arms to her sides.

I leant forwards to whisper in her ear:

"I have you trapped, but I am not going to take advantage of you this time, but I will at the next opportunity".

Even then I could not resist a small temptation. One nipple was still exposed, and totally visible jutting out through our new hole; the other was rampant under the stretched skin.

I am a biter.

I bent, took the exposed nipple between my teeth, not as tightly as when she started her orgasm, but expertly, sucking the teat between my lips until I was at the root, where the form of her breast began. I clamped down hard, and let the taught tube stretch away as it ran between my teeth.

My tongue followed the tip until I could feel the back of my teeth. I bit harder.