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They liked to direct me with my toys. listening to me moan like a bitch, while they stroked their dicks for me. I would ride my one dildo, while sucking on the other, wishing I had the courage for the real thing. Eventually, I had a couple of my regular calls help me gather up the courage to walk outside. At first, it was just to the car, and then for a drive. Then, I'd park and go for a walk, loving the sound of my heels on the pavement and the wind up my skirt. Later, it was stopping in a store for a magazine. That led to driving into the city and going into the porn shops all dressed up. It felt so sexy, and slutty. I remember one time, I had a truck driver stick his head out the window and warn me that there were police around the block. He thought I was a prostitute! After a while, I had one talk me into parking my car while he directed me to fuck myself with my dildo in my back seat, over the phone. I was so turned on being out in the open, but still sort of protected by being. Her one-word answer was just, “When?” he smiled and suggested, “perhaps tonight if you have a mind, you know what you want and what to wear and bring, and I will wait your arrival with baited-breath!” then to her surprise he kissed on her cheek, before going off to take a bath. After her duties where over Betty took herself up to her room bathed and dried, she sought out the underclothes from the box in her wardrobe, the box she had saved though till now she had no idea why, probably just as a reminder of their games, the things that Joe would have expected her to wear for punishment, always on the night before his casting off with the tide. It had been their ritual towards the end, his boat going out for a week at a time then home for a couple of days then away on the tide once more… she smiled to herself, at the memory, the stinging welts he would leave on her backside, and the other marks even through her foundation basque, both round her trunk and her big old breasts. Joe had.
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