tagLesbian SexLisa's Sweatergirl

Lisa's Sweatergirl


It was just a job. Like a billion other jobs smeared across the want ads every day, scoured by the bored, the desperate and the luckless.

Well, I WAS a little bored. But I wasn't desperate. And, hokey-smokes Bullwinkle, I sure wasn't luckless...though I thought at first that I was.

I wasn't real sure about working for a woman younger than myself. Lisa was only 27, and I am...well, I am older than that. Oh, no walkers, no being led gently back to my room by Nursie...but I am older than 27.

My first mistake, if it was one, was to wear my favorite sweater set to work on my second day there. A sleeveless wool turtleneck with a matching sweatercoat. I felt so sensual, just sitting there at my computer, so wrapped up in warm softness. No sense of urgency. No striving to achieve corporate goals. Sweater Slacker Queen rides again!

Not to say that I am not a good employee. It is just that, well, I have this thing about sweaters. So, there I was, feeling rather languorous when Lisa walked into my cubicle, my wretched little cell.

She bent to look over my shoulder at my computer screen. Oh, I was so glad it was not showing Collapse or Bounce Out or Bash the Bouncing Muskrat or something. Oh no, my computer, at least, was hard at work, a busy little beaver of a good machine.

And Lisa saw this as she leaned close to look.

As her hand rested on the back of my neck.

As her perfectly manicured index finger ran almost imperceptibly just above the neck of my sweater, like the kiss of a breeze. Oh my.

It was certainly an accident, I thought. Of course.

But no...

Her finger deliberately stroked my neck as she leaned close and I could smell Hugo Deep Red. I started to shift in my chair.

Lisa said quickly, peremptorily, "Don't move." There was a long moment, a bizarre shift from reality, and I thought this is inappropriate, this is insane, illegal, this is...her hand held my throat gently..this is oh, something, something...

I didn't move. And my nipples stood up. I was sure Lisa could see them through my sweater. So disobedient they were! Such tattle tales! This won't do, I thought breathlessly. How dare she, I thought happily. Hmm.

"There's an eyelash, just about to fall in your eye," she said softly. "Hold still and let me get it." Her right hand held me still as her left hand plucked the offending lash out of harm's way. I blinked. Her fingertips had touched my skin, my face, just below my eye. So light. So...personal.

And then, she stroked my cheek--the rogue eyelash may have been there, who knows?--and turned and left, smiling at me like Mama Cat trotting off with a fat mouse in her jaws.

"Thank you," I said after her, involuntarily admiring her tailored blouse and houndstooth skirt. I wanted to run my hands over that skirt. With her in it. Would that make me Employee of the Month or a jobseeker, I wondered vacantly as she rounded out of sight.

I exhaled deeply. I fumbled for my mouse. It may as well have been an astrolabe for all I knew what to do with it at that moment. I bit my lip. I raised my eyebrow. I smiled to myself. Ohhhhh my.

I may have been just the tiniest bit flustered by her after that. I would do things like drop my pen while we were standing together discussing a project, and then I would drop down in ladylike fashion to fetch it and there I would be, looking up at her gray slacks and up, further to her matching gray cashmere sweater. She was like a topographical map of gently curved Heaven. She would toss her hair and look down at me, amused, and I would flush, and stand back up. And discuss sales demographics or the price of dates in Istanbul or God knows what, and it was at one of these times that she said, in her dripping honey voice, "Meet me after work." Again, it was way out of line. She was my boss and I was her employee, and it was rude as well, not a question, but a command.

I nodded, imagining my cheek against her soft gray shoulder. Ohmygod.

This is where I have to apologize. You see, we went to eat, or bungee jumped off the Arc de Triomphe or something, what difference does it make, what matters is that after we did whatever thing it was we did, she made me go to the mall with her.

Hardly shocking? Oh but wait. She steered me gently but firmly with her hand in the small of my back...caressing me through my deep red lambswool sweater...she made it clear where I was to go. She told me that I liked the gray and pink striped cashmere turtleneck we found. She informed me that I adored the deep green merino wool vee neck that would be huge on me. She helped me realize that I had to have the light blue mohair. I bought them all, in a trance.

Oh. I also bought the mittens and the scarves which she graciously pointed out that I wanted dearly. perhaps we were going spelunking? Certainly heights must be involved. We walked out of the mall and through the parking lot. She opened the passenger door of her sports car for me. She took my packages and loaded them in the back. And then she took us all home to her apartment.

I wore the gray and pink striped cashmere pullover. At her instruction, I wore nothing else. And she changed into a tight ribbed turtleneck of saffron yellow, and she wore leg warmers, and she wore...a smile as she approached me where I lay on my back on her bed.

She reached for the scarves I had bought at her bidding. She dangled them gently across my face and over the insides of my upturned wrists. I stretched my hands up toward the bedposts as she moved over me on her hands and knees.

"Would you like me to restrain you?" Lisa purred sweetly.

"Yes," I nearly begged.

"I think you should stay right like that," she cooed to me, "just because I have told you to. Don't move until I give you permission, my sweet princess. I want you bound by my voice and my will." She bent and kissed my cheeks and my hair. "I want you to show me that you are incapable of disobeying me," she continued as she kissed my breasts through my sweater.

I longed to embrace her, to wrap my arms and legs around her in a lover's embrace, but I stayed spread out as she wished me to, but I couldn't help squirming and moaning as she sucked my nipple through my sweater. She lavished attention on my breasts for a long time before sitting back prettily on her feet.

I was on fire and I knew I was wetter than I had ever been, all because of this woman.

She reached over next to the bed and put on the mittens. I had not been told I could move yet and so I didn't. It was delicious.

Lisa cupped my face in her mittened hands and kissed me deeply. I groaned into her mouth, out of my mind with pleasure as she savored my mouth with her tongue and held my face softly. The combination of sensations was driving me insane. Sexy mittens! Who knew?

Then she put her right hand, still wearing the mitten, between my legs and stroked me. I yelped from sheer delight and ground against her hand. I was panting and repeating her name over and over. And all she had done was stroke and kiss me.

Then she caressed my face again with the now wet mitten, and moved her legwarmer-clad thigh between my legs to take me as one woman does another.

I begged to be allowed to hold her.

"You may wrap your legs around me, but your arms stay where they are," she commanded. Instantly, my legs went gratefully around Lisa's hips and my calves caressed the backs of her thighs as I moved under her in a state of growling crazy lust.

As I got close, she took off a mitten and ran her fingers under my turtleneck and gently clasped her hand around my throat. She moved her sweatered body against mine and whispered in my ear a single word.

"Mine!" she said, and I had the strongest orgasm I had ever had or even imagined. I bucked underneath her screaming her name. I thought I would tear myself to pieces the sensations were so strong, yet I was surrounded by sensual softness and all was simply an ever-deepening pleasure.

After I had subsided, Lisa whispered in my ear again. "Put your arms around me, Lover."

I did. I purred. I caressed her through her sweater and then ran my hands up under it to adore her more intimately. God, what is more thrilling than a woman's soft skin, warmed by wool and softness? I groaned again in sheer delight.

"I've gotten your legwarmer all wet," I said into her ear, and then circled my tongue there, following my words.

"All in a good cause," she assured me with a wicked smile. "From now on," she continued, "just the sight of me in a sweater will have you dripping. Just the sound of my voice will have you needing me. And you may never," she added, running a mitten wet from my own sex across my lips, "see certain clothes quite the same way."

"Shut up and do me again," I commanded her.

"Hey!" she responded, smiling wonderfully, "Just remember who the boss is around here!" And then she made love to me again and again, until, in my joy, I wanted to cry. Oh my!

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous07/11/17

Please, write more turtleneck sweater stories! I love this one

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