The Twenty Year Apology, Part 1

by Eva

As always, this story is a fantasy intended solely for the entertainment of mature adults.

"I'm sorry," said Helen quietly.

"For what?" I looked at my former lover, where she sat alongside me. Still good looking, twenty years on. Yes, her tits were heavier and lower and her waist had thickened. But so had mine, maybe more than I cared to admit.

Her legs still aroused me. I'd seen them as she approached the car, wondering if she still wore stockings. She'd probably graduated to tights, but I could remember unhooking her suspenders and peeling off her nylons before we made love.

Twenty years! Heavens, how things change – and how they don't change. I looked at Helen and remembered some of the things we'd done, back when we had our affair. A year of lesbian fucking and sucking and licking... There didn't seem to be anything we hadn't done. Two women together, her barely 23 and me just 31.

I thought I was still young then; she certainly was. Now I was definitely middle-aged, and she was too.

Helen said she was sorry, again.

"Not sure why you're sorry," I said, guessing why she was saying that.

"I shouldn't have left you, Stef," she said. "It's just that my husband... well, you know. His job, his career."

"Yes, I know," I said. I'd worked it all out years ago. I'd didn't bother me like it did once. We all make choices, we all choose which path to follow. Some paths are more painful than others, the ones directed by duty and loyalty and even fear. The road more travelled, to coin a phrase. Worn by the feet of people who wondered if they took the right turning earlier.

"I have missed you," she said. Tears were glistening in her eyes, and she looked away from me. Looked at the street through the car windscreen. Sometimes pain is easier to bear when you don't look directly at anything important.

"I know, and I missed you too. But, well, life goes on." I said, and it had as well. New people, new places. I never forgot but I stopped hoping she'd contact me. Then, via my own web space, she did. A tentative note at first in case I was angry or something. Then more emails, a few calls. Then she suggested we meet.

I'd felt strange driving to meet her. Things had changed and while once I would have given anything to throw her into bed and shag her like I used to, it seemed almost unimportant now. I suppose some ambitions really aren't worth anything when you get down to them, and anyway time dulls desire. Sadly.

But I'd be lying if it didn't feel good to see her again, look at her. Maybe even get a little wet in my knickers at the thought of all the things I would have done to her if she chose me rather than Dick. Yes, I call the man she was married to a Dickhead. Not out of any bitterness that he 'won' but because I always figured him a little stupid. I mean, you have a good looking sexy wife of just 12 months and you ignore her so much she goes and has an affair. With a woman almost ten years older, too. Yet, maybe he wasn't so dumb: maybe he worked out she'd go back to him, that wild sex alone wasn't enough to entice her away.

Oh well, so it goes. Things could be worse and at least I'd had access to Helen for over a year. The year of getting what we wanted. Dirty, full-on and in-your-face lesbian passion. Literally.

I was tempted to ask her if she still missed it all, especially the spankings, but I let it go. I consigned it to the "answers best not to know" box, just in case she laughed and said of course she didn't, that she never liked being spanked. I'd prefer to think she missed that.

"I imagine," she said, not looking at me, "you're wondering why I called you Stef, why I wanted to meet you."

"It had crossed my mind." I was just a little reserved with her, in case she sprang some bombshell on me. Like she'd named me in some divorce claim and I was about to be sued. I didn't know how but then I wasn't a lawyer.

"You remember when we made love, when we did things together." She looked back at me now, hazel eyes on mine.

"Yes. How could I forget?"

She smiled, nervously, but she looked a tad more relaxed. "It was, shall we say, hectic." The smile deepened just a little more. "Sometimes I was, you know, quite sore."

I nodded, thinking I should point out she was meant to be sore, in the nicest possible way. I didn't offer it. In some ways, this was her time so I'd listen to what she wanted to say.

"I have three kids," she said.

"So?" I'd heard of the first two: a boy and a girl, a few years after she'd left me to go back to Dick. The boy would be 16 now, the girl 14: James and Emma, if I remembered right.

"My youngest is eleven. She is special; very much so. She's called Faye, after my mum." I nodded. I'd met Faye once, when Helen and I thought we could try and make a go of things, and thought the woman was overbearing. Not at all what I expected her to be: the opposite of Helen I had thought then. But I didn't say anything about my memory of that. I reasoned that if Faye was eleven she had been born after Helen's mother had died – I'd heard about Helen's mother passing away not long after the birth of Emma. Faye was a memorial name, so let's leave it at that.

Helen looked at me intently. "I want you to forgive me, Stef," she said.

"I forgive you, but there isn't anything to forgive."

"There is. I nearly fucked up your life, didn't I?"

I shrugged. "Hmmm.... Nearly, but I'm a survivor at heart. I wouldn't worry about it. It was a long time ago." I paused. "So what's this to do with your children?"

"It's about my youngest. You see," the woman next to me looked anxious, "I want you to, well, take care of Faye for me."

I laughed, sorry to say. They were her and Dick's responsibility, not mine. Helen had made her choice, had children with the man she couldn't bear to be with at times, wouldn't leave him even for the best sex ever. After that it was their problem. "I'm not in the baby- sitting business," I said, feeling just a tad angry under my amusement that I had driven all this way at her request for her to say something this stupid.

"You don't understand," said Helen. "When we, you know, did all that playing... you said, remember, that you liked the idea of kissing and cuddling and spanking little girls."

I remembered. "Actually, I said I wish I'd known you when you were young. I could have loved you just as intensely when you were a kid."

Helen nodded, acknowledging my memory was accurate. "Well, okay," she swallowed a little. "How... How would you like to have Faye in your hands?"

"Is this some joke?" I asked, staring at the woman.

"No, far from it." She produced a photograph of a cute, freckled blonde girl. The child was naked from the waist up, small nipples on a flat chest, but she was grinning at the camera. I could see some of Helen in her, well quite a lot actually. "This is her. Taken last week."

I took the photo. "Why is she naked?" I couldn't be sure she was entirely so as it was from the waist up, but I was pushing this hard.

"Because I wanted you to see what you're getting. Me as a girl, a child of that age." I nodded at what she said, and felt my knickers get that little more damp. The girl was good looking, much how I thought Helen would be as a pre-teen. "Me as a little girl, ready to make love to," added Helen.

"Did Di– I mean, did your husband put you up to this?"

Helen shook her head, gave a small snort. "He thinks I'm some place else. He thinks I've forgotten you. He has no idea... well, maybe he never had." Helen smiled at me. "I'm trying to give you something unique, something to please you," she said. "To try and make it up to you somehow."

I admit I gulped at all this. Thinking of seeing a girl like her child, up close, was doing pleasant things to me below the waist. I think Helen had caught the aroma of me being excited. They say smells are the last memory to go, so she would know the scent of my cunt aroused.

It was about the best offer I had ever had. On the other hand there were all kinds of potential problems here. Not least the one game we played often, Helen and me.

"Helen... Faye is lovely and I'm sure she'd look fabulous in my hands... my bed, but I can't expect a young girl to suddenly take to being, well, handled like I did to you. Not like you had to endure." I had to grin, remembering how I'd spanked the woman twenty years ago. One advantage of being her boss: punishing her for the post being late, a phone call missed.

"Perhaps that's why I've spent the last six months educating her." Helen put her hand back into her handbag and drew out a second picture of her daughter. Just the like the first but bound, ropes across her chest. The girl's mouth was taped up and the fact the girl had swollen cheeks suggested something had been packed in there. But she was smiling behind it all, enjoying her bondage. "Those are my panties she's got in her mouth," said Helen with a twinkle in her eyes. "Panties I'd worn for two days, in case you were wondering."

Just like Helen had for me, all those years ago.

---

Faye was even more lovely than her photo. Her pale blonde hair almost glowed in its way. I could imagine her mum looking just like this at that age, and I felt my pussy start moistening as Helen guided her daughter to my car. To my surprise, though perhaps it shouldn't be, Helen had already tied Faye's slender wrists behind her. She opened the back door of my car and put her daughter on the seat and then got in the front beside me.

"Hi," she said. "I'd kiss you but..." She rolled her eyes towards the back where Faye sat.

I nodded. "That's okay."

"Hi there," I said to the child, looking at her.

The girl smiled and said "Hello," back to me. Nice voice, not upset at all. Not struggling, like she expected this.

I turned back to the mother. "Is she really tied already?"

"Sure." Helen looked round at her daughter, who didn't seem distressed in the slightest. "She has learned to like it – but then I am a good teacher."

"And I really have two weeks with her? Uninterrupted?"

"Until the 17th, yes. Her father and I will be on vacation with the older two. I persuaded him that Faye here really wanted to stay with her aunt Leanne instead of coming with us. He bought it."

"I see... and has this aunt Leanne bought it too?"

"She doesn't exist. It's a friend of mine who pretends to be her, you know, calling up, answering the phone."

"This friend knows?" I looked again at the little girl in the back, sat with hands fastened behind her, in her yellow dress. Not kicking or struggling, legs slightly apart and I could see a hint of her panties. White, of course. The colour I liked on Helen all those years ago. Virginal.

"Of course she does. I, well... I have a very close relationship with her. Have for some time."

I grinned. I had once had a dream where I clearly saw Helen in bed with another woman, so it didn't surprise me. Something else to hide, but Helen was good at that. "This friend would no doubt find it useful to call you up, talk to you. The way loving aunts do."

"Exactly," laughed Helen. "You read me too well."

"Forgive me," I said. "I never thought you were, um..." I wasn't sure what to say.

"Going to be unfaithful again?" Helen laughed. "Neither did I. I promised my husband so much, wore holes in the knees of my stockings begging him to believe I would change. And I really tried, I did... then Leanne came along and..." Helen paused and smiled. "She reminded me of you so much."

I said nothing. Helen took a deep breath. "I was lonely, she was nice, we got close. I suppose that's how so much starts up."

"Better than me?" I regretted asking that as soon as the words left my mouth. No one wants to be told by a former lover that another woman is a better in bed than she was, even if like me, you have absolutely no problem with the sisterhood making love any time.

"Different," smiled Helen, and then she grew serious. "I promised my husband that after you, what we did, I'd never ever have an affair with anyone again. So Leanne and I aren't having an affair as such. Just two good friends who help each other out." Her eyes twinkled again: she was enjoying this and in my own way, so was I.

"Can I see a picture of this aunt Leanne?"

"Yes." Helen took a photo from a small pocket in her handbag, hidden pocket I reasoned. No doubt Dick liked to check up that Helen was being faithful. The photo could hardly however be more innocent: a group of five women at a restaurant table, out for the evening. Helen was on the left and I guessed the woman on her immediate right, judging by the way she was leaning in just a fraction, shoulders touching, was this Leanne. A woman with long light brown hair, straight but well cut. She had money and no pretensions I imagined. Leanne's eyes were dark brown and sparkled, just as Helen's did when she was in love. I got a little pang at that.

But the whole scene was innocent enough. Dick would never guess, though if I peered close I could see Helen's fingers entwined with Leanne's, almost hidden by the tablecloth. Touching, in more ways than one. "I have to keep this above board, Stef," sighed Helen. "Nothing raunchy, as much as I'd like to keep one of her in the nude."

I nodded. Maybe she had the same problem with me when we were having our affair. "You still have any pictures of me?"

"One," she said. "Very, very secret. You can't let go of everything." Then she made me feel better. "I keep it at Leanne's and I sometimes look at it when she has me. She doesn't mind."

I felt good about that. But this wasn't about me or Helen. It should be about Faye. Helen recognized this, and said: "I have to go now. Just promise me you'll look after my daughter and think of me when you are tying her up. Loving her as you did me."

"I will," I said, and then asked the question I already knew the answer to: "No holds barred?"

"No damage. Just good old-fashioned tying up." As I expected. Helen hesitated for a moment and then added, "I should also add no penetration in her pussy, not with her. No strap-ons or dildos. It's not that I don't want her having fun... I don't want her to be getting what I'm missing. Just rubbing her slit, maybe a few kisses there." Helen paused, her face briefly a mass of emotions. "You know, Stef, I still do–" The woman stopped herself, wisely.

She looked away quickly. Helen looked at her daughter, blew her a kiss and told her she loved her so much, to be good and cooperative and would see her in two weeks. Then without another word to me was gone.

I watched the woman I had loved – probably still did love – hurrying away, feeling all kinds of turmoil as she disappeared from my sight. Then I looked at Faye and asked: "You okay, angel?"

"Great," she said, smiling. The way I remember her mother smiling when I slipped my fingers in her. Either hole, the same response.

I started the car engine but Faye objected. "You not going to gag me? Mum said you liked doing that to her."

"I thought you'd never ask," I laughed. I turned off the engine, took a scarf out of my pocket and leaned into the back. Faye leaned forward to make it easier for me, took the knot I made in the scarf into her mouth and I tied it off behind her head. I flicked her pale blonde hair back to hide most of it. She sat back, looking remarkably content for an eleven year old tied and gagged, hazel eyes on me.

Clearly well trained, as Helen said.

This was going to be fun. I knew it would be hard not having penetrative sex with the child but at least I was going to make her cum, kiss her body, spank her and practice bondage on her.

All the things I did to her mother so lovingly twenty years ago.

End of Part 1