Amanda's Awaening

With apologies to Lewis Carroll

Hi, it's me again. If you read Chapter 1 of this series you know by now my name is Amanda and that I was a prudish, mousy, 28-year-old accountant working as an assistant credit manager in a very mundane distribution business. I know that sounds terrible, but it really wasn't all that bad. I was well paid, liked the company I worked for and the people I worked with, and was generally satisfied with my life—except for one detail. My sex life sucked. I had been briefly married to a guy who dumped me for his gay legal assistant. A few years later the fundamental problem was that I just wasn't getting any and was clueless about how to remedy that problem.

You also know that my sister, Jolene the ex-stripper, was on a campaign ever since my divorce to broaden my sexual horizons. She had convinced me to take a trip to Mexico with her, her oversexed husband, Larry, and various of her in-laws. Wow! Was that trip an eye-opener. I learned a lot about sex and a lot about myself, including that I liked watching and being watched and a few other things. For all the salacious detail you will just have to read Chapter 1.

Now I was sitting on an airplane headed back to Chicago. Most of the week in Mexico I had not bothered with a bra or panties, wearing instead a bikini or a flimsy sundress with nothing beneath it. Spending the week as close to naked as I could get away with had been one of the unexpected features of my vacation. As we flew back to the frozen north (a.k.a. Chicago) my dishwater blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, and I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I was also wearing my usual serviceable undergarments. I had a warm sweater in my carryon bag as I expected it to be cold in Chicago (it's always cold in Chicago in late March). The warm sun was one of the benefits of going to Mexico (but not the principal benefit, as it had turned out). But now I was headed right back to where I had started from before Mexico—cold, no sex, and wearing the same frumpy clothes I had been wearing when I flew down there. I didn't like that; not any of it. Kind of wished I could stay in Mexico—mostly naked in the warm sun—but I guess everyone wishes that on their way home.

It was a long ride, and it gave me time to do a lot of thinking. My overall conclusion was that I had been missing out on a lot with my prior approach (or perhaps non-approach) to sex. Yeah, sure, I had been masturbating a bunch since my marriage blew up, but, while in Mexico, I had discovered that it was a lot better to actually experience the sex than to just imagine it while I masturbated. I also 'fessed up to myself that I was a bit of an exhibitionist. I had loved flaunting my body, barely concealed beneath a flimsy sundress in front of Larry, his brother Art, and his father Mel. It was such a turn on, especially since I had to be careful not to offend Art and Larry's conservative mother. Their wives found the whole thing amusing, but Mom, not so much. So was the mutual masturbation I had engaged in with Larry all week, especially in the public or semi-public places we did it.

Oh and then there was the out-and-out fucking with Larry that had occurred the day before we left. Damn, that was good, and it helped that I knew Art was watching us through a door that was open just enough for him to see in. Until I got too carried away with the sex, I was playing to Art as much as I was to Larry. (Yeah I know. I was screwing my sister's husband, but she had told me it was okay. They had that kind of relationship.) That was absolutely the best fucking sex I had ever had.

So now the question was, where to from here? I wasn't going back to being the mousy little accountant I had been before Mexico. Of course I knew that next day when I got to work I would look just as dull and drab as I always had, but that was going to change, and I knew just the person to help me—Jolene.

I spent the first few days after I got back trying to catch up on all the work that had piled up while I was gone. There are some jobs where the notion of a vacation is a bit of a myth because no one does your work while you are gone. They just grumble about the work being late when you get back. My job was one of those, so I put in some long hours the first four days back. By Friday morning I felt close enough to caught up to hazard a lunch hour, so I called Jolene and asked her to lunch. I wanted to talk to her about how to continue what I had been doing in Mexico.

We met at a little place next door to her flower shop (yes, she's an ex-stripper who now owns a flower shop. Go figure.) I was already seated when she came charging in, even more of a bundle of energy than usual. She was wearing tall heels, dark tights and a very short skirt that just nodded to the notion of a dress. Her big boobs were bulging out of the low cut sweater she was wearing. These were her flower selling clothes. I'd seen them before, and I had seen the clothes and Jolene in action, selling flowers to men feeling guilty about something they had done or not done to or for their wives. Amazingly successful!

Per her instructions I had already ordered a glass of wine for each of us. Jolene took a long pull on her wine and then launched into what she really wanted to know.

"Well, how was he? He said you were great."

"You mean Larry?" I asked.

"Of course I mean Larry. Have you fucked anyone else recently?"

"Menu first Jolene. Let's get our order in and then we can talk. I still have to work this afternoon."

"Come on Amanda. I eat lunch here at least three or four days a week. I have the menu memorized." Then over her shoulder to the approaching waiter, "Andre, I'll have my usual, and bring one for my sister here. Oh, and one more glass of this wine for each of us."

"Good choice on the wine, Amanda." She took another long drink that pretty much polished off the glass I had ordered for her. Mine was about gone too, but I had been sitting there sipping it for fifteen minutes while I waited for her.

I blinked. "What did I just order?" I asked. Then I smiled at her, "It'd better not be liver and onions." That had been our father's favorite dish, which he forced on Jolene and me almost monthly throughout our childhood. We both detested it.

She laughed hard enough to make her big tits bounce. "You ordered Quiche Lorraine and a cup of tomato basil soup. . . . Oh, and another glass of this tasty wine. Good choice little sister."

I don't normally drink at lunch, but I figured one glass would help, given that the topic of this lunch was going to be my sex life, or the lack thereof, and what to do about it. A second glass had not been in my plan.

"So, now that the menu is all taken care of, how was Larry?"

"I figured he would have already told you how it went," I said trying to duck the question. I really didn't want to talk about fucking my sister's husband in this tiny little restaurant.

"Of course he did," she said. "But I want to hear your version. Was he as good as I told you he would be? He claims he drove you wild, but he always claims that."

"Oh god, yes," I said, with a smile. Actually it was closer to a shit-eating grin. I could feel my legs spreading apart beneath the table as I thought about it.

"He told me you propositioned him while you were sitting on the front porch exposing yourself to him. Is that true?"

I nodded, blushing.

"Good girl," she said with bubbling enthusiasm. My god she was wound up.

"Then you led him upstairs with your sundress pulled up to expose that gorgeous naked ass of yours?"

I nodded again and continued to blush.

Jolene continued on, asking me about every detail of my afternoon with her husband while she polished off the second glass of wine. I didn't elaborate, but I did keep drinking. I just kept nodding and blushing, but I have to admit, the conversation was making me horny. Between the wine and my libido, I could see that concentrating on Dunn and Bradstreet credit reports this afternoon was going to be tough.

"Wow!" she said, after she had gone through everything except one important detail—Art. "So Larry did tell me everything." She paused looking at me suspiciously. "Did he, or is there something I left out?"

"Well," I said, "There is one thing."

"I knew it," she said. "It's my fault really. I got so horny listening to his description that I just jumped his bones. Give me the rest of it. It's really lurid isn't it?"

I was silent while I took a long pull on my second glass of wine, nearly emptying it. Having this conversation in such a public place was driving me to drink. Just as I was about to speak, the waiter brought the soup.

Jolene spoke up as he set the soup course before us, "Two more glasses of wine please, Andre."

Fuck, I thought! This wasn't going the way I planned. I had wanted to talk about an image makeover, not about fucking my brother-in-law. I had to regroup. Jolene was just too wound-up for me to keep up with.

I made an excuse and ducked out to the ladies room. While I was there I decided the afternoon was shot, so I might as well enjoy the third glass of wine and go with the flow. I called my office and told them my sister was ill and I had to look after her this afternoon. "Sort of true," I told myself as I hung up, "If you count being a manic sex fiend as an illness."

I took a deep breath and headed back to the table, reminding myself that my objective was to get Jolene's help in making myself more like her. Was I demented? Make myself more like Jolene? No. Mexico had been fun, and I wanted more of that kind of fun, but I wanted to start with my image first.

I sat down and addressed my soup. "Oh this is really good," I said as I swallowed the first spoonful. "No wonder you always have this." I was stalling.

"What are you stalling for?" Jolene demanded. "Was Larry rude? Did he get rough? No, he never gets rough," she said, answering her own question. She paused for a moment. "Oh, I bet I know," she said with a smile. "Did he get limp? That hardly ever happens, but sometimes, just sometimes, he runs out of gas on me. So he got limp, huh? That is just the kind of detail he would leave out. How much tequila did he have at lunch? That will do it sometimes. Damn him. I told him he better be good for you. You are my sister after all, and if he was going to fuck you he had to do a good job."

I was laughing hard now at Jolene's rant.

The next two glasses of wine and the Quiche arrived, interrupting her. Before Jolene could start in again I quickly spoke up, "Jolene, there is one thing Larry apparently didn't tell you, but no, he didn't get limp." My god, he was like a steel bar shoved up my cunt the whole time, I thought, a big, round, steel bar, with bumps and ridges in all the right places. I paused to take a long sip of wine while Jolene looked at me expectantly and my mind lingered on my memory of Larry's big hard cock and how it had filled my cunt. I let my legs slide just a bit further apart beneath the table. I couldn't help it. Seemed to be an automatic response to thinking about Larry fucking me.

"Well, what is it," she said. "What did he leave out?"

"Art," I said, snapping back to the present.

"Art? . . . What? Did he fuck you too? That bastard. I know he hadn't talked to Linda about it, and they always talk first before one of them goes afield."

I choked on my wine when she said that, coughing and spluttering for what felt like an eternity. Finally I was able to speak, "No, Art didn't fuck me," I whispered. "He watched."

"You mean he was in the room with you?"

"No. Someone opened the door a crack after Larry closed it when we went in. It had to be Art. No one else was home. Besides when we were well in to it, Larry told me in a whisper that Art was watching and I should be good and loud so he could hear me."

"Ahh," said Jolene. She took another long drink of wine. "Now I remember," she said after a moment's thought. "I think he just started to say something about Art when I slurped his cock into my mouth. I didn't get another intelligible word out of him after that, but that's not a complaint mind you."

"I'm not complaining either," I said. "Knowing Art was watching just made it hotter."

It was amazing. For the first time since she had come in the restaurant Jolene was at a loss for words. When she finally spoke she said, "Art! Damn, I'll bet that was hot. Larry and I will have to try that."

"And by the way," I said softly, cutting her off before she could get going again, "Larry certainly didn't get limp. He was like fucking a phone pole the whole time." Did I really say that in a crowded restaurant? Time for more wine—or less? Fuck it. No one is listening. I hope.

Jolene smiled. "Yeah, he gets that way when he finally gets some dolly he has been lusting after for a long time. He was still that way when we got home and he was fucking me while he told me about fucking you. The more he talked the harder he got." She picked up her wine glass and finished her, what was it third or fourth glass? I had lost count.

Looking over the rim of her glass at me she said, "So answer my question, Amanda."

"What question?"

"The one I started with when I came in here before you started ducking behind the menu."

"Which was?"

Jolene gave me an exasperated look, which said you are ducking the question.

"Oh you mean

that

question," I said. I looked straight at her and said, "Yes, the fucking your husband gave me was the best goddamned sex I've ever had." That should shut her up I thought. Damn, the wine was getting to me. I had never imagined talking like that in a public place.

"And?"

"And what?" I asked.

"You know."

I did know, but I wasn't sure I could say it. After all I had just confessed to my sister how much I enjoyed fucking her husband. How far did she want me to go. Silly question, I thought. As far as sex went, my sister had no limits.

I took a long pull that finished off my wine while Jolene waited expectantly, quiet for the first time since she had walked in.

Finally I spoke quietly, "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want to fuck him again." God, why did she have to make it so hard?

"I knew it!" she said with glee. "There's hope for you yet. No woman in her right mind could settle for sex with Larry only once." I noticed she was gathering up her things, as though she was leaving.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, of course. I have a flower shop to run. Have you forgotten?"

As she stood she said, "Larry's due home from the coast late this afternoon. Come over about eight."

I hesitated for a moment, but all I could think of was Larry's hard cock fucking me. Finally I spoke softly. "Yeah . . . Okay. I'll be there. At eight."

Then she leaned forward and said softly, "We'll have a threesome?" she stood, winked lewdly at me, and sailed out of the restaurant, leaving me with a considerable check to cover.

A threesome with my sister and her husband!

What had I gotten into?

I sat waiting for the check, wondering what I should do. Then I decided, "Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound." I had been shying away from sex my whole life. It was time for that to stop.

So, what to do with the rest of the afternoon. I sure as hell wasn't going back to work after four glasses of wine. I could go home and masturbate, but then I saw a hair salon across the street and I had another thought—a way over-the-top idea. I walked into the shop and asked if they could give me a radical change in my hair, right now. I guess it was a slow day because the girl said, "Sure. What do you want?"

When I walked out, most of my long dishwater blonde hair remained on the shop floor, and what remained with me was dyed a shiny raven, done up in a short pageboy. Oh yeah, and there was a bright blue stripe on one side. That would surprise folks, I thought.

My next stop was an upscale lingerie store. I spent a delicious hour looking at the myriad alternatives to my traditional serviceable undergarments, finally settling on a lacy push-up bra that covered just enough of my breasts to push them into the desired position and a matching pair of lace bikini panties. Both were in black. I also acquired a set of very retro black, thigh high stockings—the kind with the seam up the back.

Looking at my watch I realized I still had time to complete the outfit. Now off to a department store where I acquired a very short black skirt, a sheer white blouse which didn't hide the white bra I was wearing and would positively advertise the new black push-up bra. Both were about a size smaller than I usually bought so they fit very snuggly and left little to the imagination. Next I bought some killer heels, in black of course. Walking in them would be tough since I didn't really have much experience with four-inch heels, but I was sure I could make it work. Besides, I didn't expect to have any of these clothes on for very long, just long enough to get Larry's cock up. Finally I made a stop at a make-up bar and let the sales girl do me with some very dramatic eye makeup and a bright red lipstick. I forget what they called the shade, but it should have been called "fuck me red." That's how red it was.

By this time it was six o'clock. So I bundled myself and my purchases into a cab and hurried home. It was six-thirty by the time I got home—traffic sucked. That gave me just time enough to eat a cup of Ramen (no drinking on an empty stomach. The old practical Amanda still existed), shower (including shaving my legs and other critical parts), and then dress and tidy up the make-up and my hair.

Now it was 7:45 and I was running about fifteen minutes late. I still took time to take a look in a full-length mirror. Wow! Who was that woman? As I pulled on a coat, I told myself, I would have to do some more shopping over the weekend to tone this down for work, but for tonight, it was perfect. It would blow Jolene away and probably cause Larry to jump on me.

I sent Jolene a message: "Sis, I'm running about fifteen minutes late. Don't start without me." Then I tapped out another message calling for an Uber car and headed for the street, tottering on my new heels. I couldn't decide what was going to be the most fun—watching my sister's face when she saw my new look, or fucking Larry again.

Nah. No contest. I was horny as hell. The most fun was going to be fucking Larry, but watching Jolene's face, while not even close, would still be worth all the money I had spent this afternoon.

As I slipped into the car and gave the driver Jolene's address, my iPhone rattled. As soon as I was settled and the seat belt fastened (old Amanda still there) I looked at Jolene's message. "No problem. We'll wait. Larry is very excited. So am I. Art won't be here to watch, but I will."

A moment later a second message, "Maybe I'll do more than just watch."

That last one worried me a bit. I was certainly up for fucking Larry again (Oh god was I. When I moved in the car seat my swollen pussy lips were squishing against each other. So fucking horny!) But, how would I handle sex with my sister? I mean, I didn't care if she watched, or even took turns with me in fucking Larry, but what if she wanted more? I had never had sex with a woman, much less with my sister.

When I arrived at Jolene's, it was a toss up as to who was the most surprised.

As I had planned, Jolene was blown away by my new look. She was chattering away until I slipped off my heavy winter coat. Then she just stood in her front hall with her mouth hanging open staring at me. When she finally spoke it was, "Wow! Look at you."

"So you approve?"

"I didn't know you had it in you. Who stole my kid sister?"

"She went through a conversion in Mexico. That's what I wanted to talk to you about at lunch, but I couldn't get you off the subject of sex with Larry. So I had to do all this on my own this afternoon."