Layers of Lucy

Posy Churchgate
Kink
Masturbation
Virtual To Reality
14 mins read

Lucy kicked the front door shut and placed the parcel on the counter to tackle it
with scissors. Nestled amongst paper and polystyrene chips was the camera for
the photography class she’d enrolled in. Lucy flicked the switch on the kettle,
her kitchen clean, with everything put away. As it boiled she thought fondly of
the years her sons lived at home, leaving counters crummy, and dirty plates
abandoned. The house was too quiet since they’d left for university. Recently
Lucy was rattling around in empty rooms, her free time felt heavy on her hands.

Two nights later, Lucy reviewed herself critically in the mirror. Twisting and
turning, admiring that her jeans clung snugly, her stomach was still toned.
Smoothing her t-shirt down she shrugged on a hoodie. By the front door she
grabbed trainers, her new camera bag and keys. The photography class was guy-
heavy, several had seemingly elected it as a retirement hobby, Lucy was
unaware of their eyes on her as she entered the room. Even casually dressed, her
poise drew glances, the swing of her curvy rear as she strode to a front seat
caused a couple of gents to adjust their slacks.

That weekend, Lucy parked on weed-strewn concrete in front of an abandoned

warehouse. Before reaching into the boot for her camera and tripod, she stood
and surveyed her subject, whose dark, paneless windows were broken teeth in a
desolate grin. “Great!" she thought. The moodier the better. She roamed the
deserted lot assessing locations, gauging the lighting as her tutor had instructed.

She selected a large, arched doorway then set up the tripod to take some test
shots. Critiquing them she realised they lacked impact, the scale of the doors
hadn’t translated to film. In a flash of inspiration, she set the camera’s timer and
raced to the arch. Arranging herself casually, silky hair draped to hide her face,
she leaned back against the door jamb, ankles crossed.
Withdrawing to the car, Lucy sipped her sweet black coffee and reviewed the
pictures. Their composition was pleasing; she looked surprisingly good. A
genuinely attractive woman against the backdrop of a deserted commercial
building struck a much more dramatic contrast.

Lucy had always taken good care of herself, but since the boys left for university
she’d begun visiting the gym, where she also swam lengths in the pool.
Gradually her fitness and tone had re-established, but not her confidence. That
had diminished during her years of parenting. During that time her focus had
been on bringing up her boys to be well-rounded men, polite, intelligent but
unashamed to show their emotions. They kissed and hugged her in front of their
friends. Toby in particular always told her how beautiful she was. As she
continued to study the photograph, admiring the lean lines of her figure caused
Lucy to consider that Toby had a point.

Her positivity and creativity revving, it occurred to her that less clothes would
give the photograph more contrast. But did she dare? She hadn’t displayed
herself that way for years, not since beach holidays with the twins, when she’d
helped them build sand castles. Back then she’d even preferred to wear a tankini
or sarong, shyly covering her torso with its childbearing induced stretch marks.

This was a new phase, surely?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Lucy stripped down to her underwear
(white, but pretty satin and lace) then slipped her boots back on. Bending over
the tripod, the satin strained across her curves, her breasts pressed forward
invitingly, barely contained by lace cups. Her rear, encased in the sheened
fabric, was reminiscent of a ripe peach, succulent and firm. With the camera
focused and the timer set, Lucy returned to the arched doorway, hips swinging,
both thrilled and terrified by her audacity.

Her initial poses were coy, using her curtain of chestnut hair to hide her face, but
they couldn’t suppress her sexual allure. She experimented by squeezing her
arms together or bending at the waist, poses to plump her tits to create cavernous
cleavage. Lucy tried turning away from the camera to give a sexy arch to her
back while, hands pressed to the wall, she cast smouldering looks over her
shoulder into the lens of the camera.

Lucy selected one of her earlier pictures (clothes on) to submit for her
assignment, which proved very popular among her class. However, Lucy chose
an uber sexy one (glance over shoulder pose) to post in a sexy internet photo
meme she’d discovered. This image got 100+ views that first weekend, along
with a flood of positive comments, which really stroked her ego.

Gradually Lucy began to take more care of herself. Becoming mindful of what
she wore, from lingerie outwards, she learned that, for her, taking care at
foundation level led to feeling desirable, powerful. For the first time in years she
felt visible, an attractive woman whose body broadcast her more confident
attitude. Lucy began to see herself the way others saw her.

Lucy experimented, taking candid photos using varying lights, exposure and
locations. She was delighted as she viewed her sexuality through the ‘eye’ of the
camera. More powerful still, was the positive affirmation her ‘online’ identity
gained. Not only angle and composition remarks of praise were posted. Lucy’s
pictures elicited lusty, appreciative celebration from all genders which freed her
inner goddess.

At her fourth photography lesson, Lucy wore a figure-hugging dress. Arriving

late and hovering at the door, Lucy was beckoned in by her tutor. The class
devoured her catwalk to a seat at the front. High heels had structured Lucy’s
bum while tilting her spine to showcase her tits. When she sat and crossed her
legs, silky stockings chafed with a delicious whisper. Lucy could feel her power.
She had a secret, she was admired, a world of possibilities spread out at her feet.

Taking sexy photos in addition to her college assignments, Lucy continued to

participate regularly in the weekly photographic meme, continuing to earn
herself a barrage of appreciative feedback. The first Sunday of every month the
meme had a prompt, but the latest challenged Lucy: “With a Little Help from
Your Friends”. Lucy wasn’t ready to get anyone else involved in her erotic
photography. Whilst she found it incredibly freeing and empowering, she was
reluctant to share with friends what she did.

At the end of the next class, Lucy took Jeff, her tutor, aside for advice. How
could she create an image which showed the subject twice, preferably in
different positions? Jeff explained it was called double exposure, showing her
how to open one image on top of another using an editing icon of the same
name.

Feeling inspired to experiment, Lucy took shots of herself lying at the centre of
her bed, others in various positions seated and standing around the bed, hands
and arms extended towards the midpoint of the mattress. Lucy was able to layer
several shots, creating an image which looked as if additional ‘Lucys’ were
stroking and touching the prone Lucy - it was very sensuous and proved a hit
with her online fan base.

Reviewing the other entries for the same prompt, Lucy noticed several had
included sex toys in their pictures, a totally different take on the concept of
‘help’. It got her wondering if she was missing out. Lucy was by no means a
prude, but sex with her ex-husband hadn’t been very adventurous; satisfying but
not exciting. Since living alone, she’d occasionally masturbated, but it was
usually something done furtively under the running water of the shower.

Browsing this week’s photos got Lucy curious, so she opened a new tab in her
browser to search for sex toys, picking a fairly generic brand aimed at the vanilla
market. Over an hour later she was both elucidated and aroused! She’d opened
an account and placed an order. Looking forward to its delivery she hoped the
site’s claims of discrete packaging were true.

That weekend Lucy found herself in the kitchen, tackling the tape of another
parcel with scissors. Inside was the small, discreet bullet vibrator she’d ordered.
The old Lucy had never used a sex toy. New Lucy, enlightened and more
confident, had decided to re-awaken her libido by finding out what she liked and
providing it for herself.

Her internet searches had taken her down all sorts of rabbit holes. Lucy found
dildos that were anatomically correct and others of more fantastical proportions
or ‘nonhuman’ design. The vibrators varied in length and girth, some had arms
to stimulate the clitoris simultaneously. Other vibes were designed to focus
sucking or licking motions specifically on the powerhouse of nerve endings of
the clit.

Another fact Lucy discovered was that a female’s clitoris grows as a female gets
older. In ‘mid-life’ she was apparently more receptive to stimulation than she’d
been as a young woman. This partly explained women taking toy-boys for
lovers, a concept she’d found faintly ridiculous while her own sex-drive still lay
dormant.
She went upstairs to try out the shiny, metallic vibe, which was small enough to
fit in her hand. Lucy had deliberately chosen one which was pretty and looked
non-threatening. There’d be plenty of time to try out more complex and
sophisticated models if this early experiment proved pleasurable.

Feeling some trepidation, and a little foolish ‘getting her sexy on’ in broad
daylight, Lucy drew the bedroom curtains and took a shower. Under the water
she let her mind wander through arousing memories, a montage of images from
fantasies and happy intimate encounters with her earlier boyfriends. Thoughts of
stolen moments seemed to get her particularly turned on. Hands sneaking under
her skirt to slip inside her knickers while her date was driving got her hot.
Remembering steamy explorations under blouses and inside unzipped jeans in
the anonymous dark of the cinema caused throbs in her pussy which surprised
her.

Patting and rubbing herself dry, Lucy tried to imagine hands other than hers
travelling the undulating geography of her curves. As she rubbed a moisturising
lotion into her stomach, breasts and legs Lucy bit her lip, losing herself in a
vision of butterfly kisses, nibbles and nips being delivered to these expanses of
skin.

Wrapped in a towel Lucy set up her camera, positioning the tripod so that it
viewed where she planned to sit on her bed. She positioned a mirror between her
legs, before pressing a button on the vibrator to activate it. Scrolling through its
vibration patterns she discovered it had constant speeds and patterns. It seemed
sensible to start at the lowest speed, so Lucy selected that before tentatively
running the device over her labia.

Lucy gazed with fascination in the mirror at her plump curtains of flesh, slightly
darker in colour than the skin of her legs. The sensation was pleasant, tingling,
almost warming. As Lucy continued to trace her lips, she noticed them draw
apart slightly and, if she wasn’t imagining it, they looked fuller. She could check
when she watched the film back later.

Passing the vibe over her mons, near her clit, Lucy felt so much more sensation,
a greater response of thrill ran through her. Gradually she increased the pressure,
massaged more firmly, focussing the vibrations on her clitoris. The internet had
taught her its structure consisted of much more than the visible nub. Lucy
discovered that pressing and rubbing the upper area with the tapered tip of the
vibe had her squirming with delight. She closed her eyes as endorphins surged
pleasurably around her body.

Next time Lucy looked in the mirror she viewed a vivid slash of pink, moist
looking skin. Her labia had parted and her clit looked engorged. Lucy licked a
finger to circle it around the tiny stiff stalk. She groaned aloud, lust cranking up
slowly but steadily, like an elevator while the camera lens silently captured the
mounting erotic action.

With one hand she pressed down on her pussy lips, parting them as she did until
her clit was isolated, standing proud. Lucy teased it mercilessly with the
vibrator, causing her hips to buck and her bottom to writhe against the mattress.
A flush bathed her, warmth and awareness crept up her body. It radiated out
from her core, till Lucy imagined she glowed like hot coals with arousal and
desire, gasping out loud.

Looking down at herself Lucy observed hard nipples. Her teasing touches
confirmed they were hypersensitive. Strings of clear juice drooled from her hole,
coating her pussy lips and pooling on the towel beneath her. Wanton, Lucy
dipped her fingers inside, she felt her pussy walls, throbbing and glossy.

A strong yearning to have something fill her, pounding into her with deep
thrusts, took Lucy by surprise, but she listened to her body and sank two fingers
inside herself. Enjoying the sensations, she thrust slowly. She watched in the
mirror, fascinated by them sliding in and out, slippery with juices.

Simultaneously Lucy kept rubbing and teasing the straining bud of her clit with
the vibe. At this point, she dialled the device to its highest constant speed. Lucy
didn’t stop, couldn’t if she’d wanted to. The throb, rub and plunder needed to be
constant to take her there.

Lucy’s imagination went into overdrive as she thrummed herself, filling with
images of muscled men with pumping buttocks who pistoned in and out of her
hungry pussy. She visualised herself lying on an altar, putting on a show for
devoted, lusty pagan worshippers who writhed, naked but for their robes. They
fisted and stroked themselves into a sexual frenzy while watching Lucy fuck
herself hard with a sacred phallic symbol.

As starbursts of climactic pleasure washed over her, making her body twitch,
Lucy’s mind spiralled out in fragments of release. She could almost feel ropes
and squirts of opaque come landing on her naked body, decorating her breasts,
stomach and thighs; trophies of the disciples’ devotion to their lusty deity.

“Where had that come from?” Lucy wondered happily as her breathing steadied
and she drifted back to herself. Her body was still experiencing delightful
orgasmic aftershocks so she touched herself experimentally. Her clitoris was
tender and engorged, almost overwhelmed with sensation while her juices ran
free, dampening her perineum.

Lucy reached for tissues to clean up, smiling with satisfaction. It truly was like
riding a bike, you never forgot how, but self-induced pleasure was better than
she remembered! She hid the vibe in a balled up sock before placing it in her
bedside cabinet, making a plan to use it again that night, while watching what
she’d filmed.

Her body felt wrapped in a soft robe of relaxed, pleasurable sensations. She was
curious whether the throbs she’d felt at climax, which had been strong, were
visible externally or were an internal flex of muscles. Using the camera to film
her self-pleasuring session would surely educate Lucy about her body’s
responses. Lucy was enjoying discovering her sexual depths while the idea of
exploring further was both exciting and empowering. Perhaps reading some
erotica should be next on her agenda of self-discovery.

The self-assurance she’d had pre-motherhood was resurfacing in all areas of her
life, and confidence is sexy. At work, Lucy’s colleagues paid her more attention.
In meetings or walking the corridors, her allure wafted like incense from a
thurible. Lucy’s confidence went through the roof and she was assigned a
special project to tackle which led to a pay rise.

Even Frank from Accounting, a silver fox divorcee who Lucy had long admired,
wasn’t immune to the thrall of her new self-assurance. It seemed he began to
time his lunch break to coincide with hers. One day he enquired if the seat
opposite was free. Lucy smiled, welcoming him to join her. As they talked Frank
forgot to eat, seemingly distracted by her full lips, playful gestures and the
delicious orbs pressing against her blouse.

Lucy was flattered by his attentiveness and drawn to his lively conversation. He
enquired about her project and listened, offering intelligent questions until they
moved away from work chat.
“I love the theatre. I travel to London see a show a few times a year.”

Lucy laughed. “I have to confess, the last show I saw was Stomp! I couldn’t
have dragged my boys to a musical, but that was raucous and rhythmic and it
grabbed their attention.”

Lucy experienced a throb of desire when Frank smiled. She wanted to make it
happen again. Looking at the curve of his lip she wondered what it would be like
to kiss him. Emboldened by their apparent connection, new Lucy threw caution
to the wind.

“Frank, would you like to go out?”

“I’m sorry Lucy,” Frank stumbled over his words. “Say that again?”

Without hesitation, she said again, “Would you like to go out one evening?”

When his eyes widened in surprise, Lucy wondered if she’d gone too far,
misread the signs. Her pulse pounded in her ears, unused to being so forthright.
Then Frank’s face broke into a smile.

“I’d love that Lucy, when were you thinking?” He pulled out his phone to check
his calendar, and she flushed with elation. A date and time was selected. Lucy
and Frank agreed to go for a drink and a bite to eat.

Lucy and Frank headed in separate directions back to their workstations, Lucy
silently congratulated herself for seizing the moment. She was determined, going
forward, to enjoy the layers of herself that she had uncovered.

She smirked as she sat at her desk.