Deborah

Dear forum members

Here is a little story for the entertainment of this amiable forum.
I apologize for any mistakes.
English is not my mother tongue.


Deborah


She was actually doing really well now, thought Deborah de Winter, as she made her way home at one o'clock on this sunny Friday afternoon. You can leave early today, Peter Keen had called out to her before hurrying into his office.

Her new boss was generous and charming, even if he sometimes behaved a little strangely, she thought. But she didn't care, he could lock himself in his office as often as he liked if he enjoyed it, as long as he didn't bother her like so many others.

Deborah was breathtakingly beautiful and she had become accustomed to men on the street turning to look at her or staring at her like a creature from another planet.

It was different with Mr. Keen, he hardly seemed to notice her beauty, which almost annoyed her a little. He usually looked down or out of the window when he spoke to her.

You're coming to our summer party on Sunday, he called after her when she was almost out the door.

What a party, she wheeled around and noticed that he quickly lowered his gaze, had he been staring at her bottom after all? You didn't get the card, it doesn't matter, I'll give you a new one, said Peter, reaching into his jacket a little embarrassed. My wife is looking forward to getting to know you better.


She sat down in front of a café on the way to her new home and pulled out the fine handmade card and her phone from her handbag. She had to call Jason and let him know that she wouldn't be seeing him this weekend, because skipping the summer party at the company where she'd only been working for three months was out of the question, not after she'd been promoted to the boss's receptionist two weeks ago with a big pay rise. Soon she would be moving into a larger apartment and

Jason could perhaps move in with her in the small town of Bad Wintersberg, 150 kilometers from her former home.

Jason was a sweetheart she had met a year ago, a reserved, handsome boy who read her every wish from her lips.

She dialed his number. He answered, a little out of breath. Jason, I'm afraid I can't come this week, we have a company party, what's wrong with you. I've just done something, he stammered a little, so. Groaning noises came from the Phone, then it suddenly fell silent. Jason, what's going on with you. Me, I was jerking off. And what were those noises? That was the TV.

So that's my boyfriend jerking off to porn movies instead of waiting for me. I just thought... I don't care what you thought, I'm definitely not coming this weekend. Deborah hung up angrily.


She was looking at the card inviting her to Sunday brunch at the Keens' estate when her cell phone rang.

Deborah, it's me, I just thought because last time... I'm sorry.

There's nothing to apologize for Jason, I'm seriously hurt. She said, but couldn't help grinning as her own little nightly hobby, as she called it, came to mind.

She realized that it was getting wet between her thighs. The black nylon tights rustled as she crossed her legs. No one who saw her sitting in front of the café in her elegant costume would guess what extensive masturbation orgies she regularly indulged in in her small apartment. After all, Jason was far away and she felt that letting him in on her hobby was completely unnecessary. She thought about his last words for a moment.

He probably thought that he would last longer if he did it to himself first.


The last time he´d been cumming immediately, he hadn't lasted a minute, but her outfit was also more than capable of making him hot. The red lace lingerie with the seductive suspenders, the thin nylons and the high-heeled shoes, which were the only clothes she was wearing under her coat when she stood at his front door, were probably a little too much for poor Jason.


Perhaps it was also her brash approach when she ordered him to drop his robe at the door, forced him naked into the bedroom, pushed him onto the bed and made a mess of his stiff cock. She put an end to his excuses without further ado by taking a seat on his face. For over half an hour she held him trapped between her thighs. His face was soaking wet when she finally collapsed over him, crying out, and rolled down.


Pay please.

She left a few coins on the table and was about to leave when a tall, elegant, middle-aged lady addressed her by name: "You must be Miss de Winter, may I introduce myself; Keen

Becca von Keen. You really are as beautiful as I've been told, but I see you're just leaving, so I'll see you on Sunday, she said, looking at the card. Only now did Deborah realize that she was looking at her boss's wife. Thank you for the compliment, Mrs. von Keen, but you look ... But tell me Becca, she was interrupted. See you on Sunday then. She was gone.

When she got up, she realized that her knees were shaking. She had to go home first and relax. The rendezvous with the heavy massager that had been waiting in her bedside drawer for years couldn't wait until the evening.

And anyway, what Jason could do, she had been able to do for a long time. She decided to make herself comfortable at home until she arrived at the party on Sunday morning.


By making herself comfortable, Debbie meant something other than lounging in front of the TV with potato chips. As soon as she unlocked the front door, she knew that she would have to gag herself again later that evening so as not to disturb the neighbors' sleep.



to be continued if you are interested...

 

Sunday 11 o'clock in the morning
I am delighted that you have come, Mrs. Keen greeted her warmly, pressing a champagne glass into her hand at the foot of the huge terrace. It was a convivial morning, and the guests were carefully catered for by Peter. The six elderly ladies, all seamstresses at the company, soon retired to a round table in the garden, where they sipped copious amounts of champagne. Their loud laughter mingled with the small talk of some friendly couples on the terrace where Mrs. Keen showed them around and introduced them. They were almost all sales representatives of the company, some of whom had traveled from far away. Everyone was very friendly and courteous to her and she was overjoyed, especially because Becca treated her like a best friend from the very beginning.
At around 2 p.m., most of them said their goodbyes after singing the praises of the excellent food and service. Debbie, who was feeling a little buoyant by now, was surprised at how naturally Becca accepted the compliments, even though Peter was actually doing all the work. He had been rushing back and forth between the kitchen and the terrace for three hours, serving small delicacies on large trays, refilling glasses, emptying ashtrays and seeming to guess every wish of the guests.


Becca had hooked up with her and led her to the edge of the terrace a little way off. After finding out that Mr. Keen had also prepared all the food, she was full of praise for her new boss, but Becca interrupted her:
"There's almost nothing that can't be improved. There's no more champagne down there, for example.
She made a head movement towards the seamstresses, who didn't look as if they were missing anything. Then, for the first time, she turned directly to Peter, who was working with a barbecue at the other end of the terrace.

"Peter, the ladies in the garden have nothing left to drink!"

Debbie was a little startled by the change in Becca's tone. It was more a sharp tone of command that brooked no delay than a hint, let alone a request.
But it was Peter's reaction that made it even clearer to her who wore the pants in this house.
He had literally flinched before he set off at a run to entertain the older ladies.
Well, you've raised your husband well, he obeys your every word, Deborah said jokingly.

He has no other choice, you must know. I am an ardent supporter
of the matriarchy. A smart woman can tell at first glance if a little education is needed and for most of them it is, believe me. Debbie was glued to her lips, Becca had captivated her from the very beginning, but now she was really curious to get to know Mrs. von Keen even better.
If you let them, the men just get lazy and hang around drinking beer or watching dirty movies, or worse, she continued.
She had to think about Jason, Becca was right, she needed to know more.
"But what's the best way to educate your husband?"
Let's make ourselves comfortable here, Becca pointed to a seating area.
The most important thing to start with is a very simple rule that you should also make clear to your boyfriend.
He is only allowed to join you if he behaves impeccably. You get the idea. She stroked Debbie's inner thigh tenderly with the flat of her hand. She shuddered under the tender touch
The rest of the guests had left or joined the table in the garden.


Only you decide what is meant by impeccable behavior.
I'm extremely petty with Peter, I can often be really mean.
How about an example, drink up, no, it's already too warm, she emptied my half-full glass into the flowerpot. Take your glass in your hand, she murmured with a conspiratorial expression.
Peter, please bring me some ice cream confectionery, she called out kindly. The man she was talking to, who was now wearing a white barbecue apron and was feeding the group in the garden disappeared into the house only to appear in front of us shortly afterwards with the requested treat and a beaming smile.
"Your confectionery Mrs. Keen," he served cheerfully. Debbie noticed the fascinated, lustful gleam in Peter's eyes as he watched his flawless wife curled up in the comfortable armchair. Why don't you have a slice Deborrah, it tastes delicious with the champagne. Her hand rested on your thigh again. Oh, you haven't got anything left to drink, Peter, what kind of service is that, it's the second time today that you've made our guests feel uncomfortable. Peter's cheeks reddened slightly. He was obviously ashamed of being reprimanded in front of Deborrah. She was enjoying the situation more and more, his look reminded her of Jason's look after his quick shot. It had been that look that had made her so hot and now she felt that certain happiness between her legs again.
Peter stammered apologies and hurried to fill her glass. She held the glass extra low so that it foamed over a little and dripped onto the patio floor. Her thigh had also received a drop. Peter, you shouldn't look at Deborrah's breasts, just look what you've done. The beautiful pantyhose, Peter began to tremble, his gaze was directed to the floor, he looked very aroused, while he began to apologize, but he was really only looking at the glass. Shut up Peter, that's enough for today, his mistress interrupted him. Peter lowered his eyes to his wife's feet in elegant black velvet pumps and no longer dared to look up.