Claire slammed the car door behind her, the gravel crunching under her boots as she stared at the quaint stone cottage nestled in the rolling hills of the Cotswolds. At twenty-one, she’d just dropped out of university in London, too much pressure, too many parties that turned into regrets, and her dad had insisted she come stay with him and his new wife, Lydia, in this sleepy village.
The air smelled of fresh hay and wildflowers, a far cry from the dirty streets she’d left behind.
Her dad greeted her with a bear hug at the door, his weathered face lighting up. ‘Welcome home, sweetheart. Lydia’s inside making tea.’ Claire forced a smile, but as soon as she stepped into the cozy kitchen, the tension hit her. Lydia, a sharp-featured woman in her forties with perfectly coiffed hair and a t-shirt that said ‘country gentry,’ eyed her up and down. Claire’s ripped jeans and Metallica T-shirt clashed with everything she surrounded.
The argument erupted over dinner. Lydia prattled on about ‘wasted potential’ and how Claire needed to ‘get her life together.’ Claire shot back, accusing her of being a controlling bitch who married her dad for his money. Plates clattered, voices rose, and by the end of the night, Claire stormed to her room, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. Her dad sighed in the hallway, but Lydia’s voice cut through: ‘She needs a job. I’ll sort it.’
The next morning, Lydia dragged Claire to the village high street, a row of thatched-roof shops selling artisanal cheeses and antique trinkets. They stopped at ‘Fox & Hound,’ a high-end country fashion boutique with window displays of waxed jackets and riding breeches. ‘The owner owes me a favor,’ Lydia said curtly. ‘You’ll work here. Start today.’ Claire wanted to protest, but the alternative was being kicked out, so she bit her tongue and stepped inside.
The shop smelled of leather and lavender, shelves lined with luxurious ts, silks, and woolens tailored for the horsey people of the Cotswolds. Samantha, the owner, emerged from the back room like a vision, mid-fifties, tall and curvaceous, with auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and green eyes that sparkled with mischief. She wore a fitted blouse that hugged her full breasts and a pencil skirt that accentuated her hips. ‘You must be Claire,’ she said, her voice smooth as honey. ‘Lydia called. I’m Samantha. Let’s get you fitted for a uniform, can’t have you scaring off the customers in whatever that is you’re wearing.’
Claire felt a flush creep up her neck under Samantha’s gaze. There was something almost hungry in the way she looked at her. Samantha led her to a private fitting area at the back, a curtained nook with a full-length mirror and a velvet chaise lounge. ‘Try these on,’ Samantha said, handing her a t jacket in earthy greens and browns, a pair of tight white jodhpurs that looked like they’d cling to every curve, and polished black riding boots. ‘They’re samples, perfect for the role. I’ll help if you need.’
Claire ducked behind the curtain, peeling off her jeans and top. The jodhpurs slid up her legs, gripping her skin, hugging her thighs and ass so snugly she could feel the seam pressing against her pussy. She zipped them up, the fabric stretching taut over her hips. The t jacket draped over her shoulders, nipping in at the waist to emphasize her slim figure and perky breasts.
She tugged on the boots, the leather creaking as they encased her calves. Stepping out, she caught her reflection, transformed into some equestrian goddess, the white jodhpurs gleaming under the soft lights, outlining the cleft of her ass and the subtle mound of her pussy
Lydia had seemingly left, and Samantha sat on the chaise, legs crossed, but her eyes widened as Claire emerged. ‘Turn around,’ she murmured, her voice thicker now. Claire obliged, feeling exposed yet thrilled by the attention. Samantha uncrossed her legs, her skirt riding up slightly. ‘Gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.’ Her hand drifted to her thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles on the fabric.
Claire paused, sensing the shift in the air. Samantha’s cheeks flushed, and she leaned back, parting her knees just enough. One hand slipped under her skirt, the other unbuttoning the top of her blouse to reveal the lace edge of her bra. ‘Keep going,’ Samantha breathed, her fingers delving deeper, rubbing slow circles over her panties. Claire’s heart pounded—should she stop this? But the shop was empty, the curtain shielding them, a heat beginning to build between her own legs.
Samantha’s voice was low, warm, as she murmured to Claire, ‘Unzip those jodhpurs for me, love. Let’s see what’s underneath.’ Claire’s fingers trembled on the zipper of her new jodhpurs, the fabric hugging her thighs snugly. But before she could pull the zip down, the shop bell jingled sharply, shattering the moment.
Samantha muttered under her breath, ‘Damn it, forgot to lock the door. Lydia’s fault for leaving it open.’ She quickly buttoned her blouse, smoothing it down, and hurried out to greet the customer. Claire froze behind the curtain, her heart pounding. Had she really been about to undress for a woman she’d just met? What would have happened next? Her cheeks burned at the thought.
Voices drifted from the front, familiar ones. Claire peeked through the curtain and recognized Lydia’s bright laugh mingling with Samantha’s, both sounding casual, like nothing had happened. ‘Interrupting anything fun?’ Lydia teased lightly.
Claire stepped out, self-conscious in her t jacket and tight white jodhpurs, but it made her feel strangely confident. Lydia turned, eyes widening. ‘Look at you! A proper little lady now. I’ll give you a lift home later if you like.’
Samantha waved it off with a smile. ‘No need, I’ll drive her. It’s quiet here, we might close early anyway.’ Lydia shrugged, then giggled as she headed out. ‘Have fun, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
Claire’s chest warmed with a new flutter of excitement at the prospect of being alone with Samantha all afternoon. Her pussy tingled, an unfamiliar ache building between her legs.
Samantha turned to her, eyes gleaming. ‘Where were we?’ Claire’s heart leaped, but Samantha shifted gears, professional again. ‘Actually, let me show you around the shop properly.’
Disappointment flickered through Claire, but she nodded and followed.
The boutique felt even quieter now, more intimate with just the two of them. Samantha gestured to the main display, pointing out a tailored hacking jacket draped over a mannequin, paired with a silk scarf. ‘Everything here is curated for quality, fabrics that last, cuts that flatter.’
Claire’s gaze drifted from the items to Samantha’s confident profile, the way her blouse clung to her curves. Samantha led her to a rack of seasonal pieces for autumn fairs. ‘Customers always test you on fabrics,’ she said with a wink. ‘Know your t from your wool.’
Claire laughed nervously. ‘I’d probably embarrass myself.’
‘You’ve got good instincts,’ Samantha replied, her voice softening. ‘And you look the part.’ The words warmed Claire’s chest again, but an awkward silence stretched between them.
Samantha’s gaze lingered on Claire’s lips, then she cleared her throat and nodded toward the back. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the stockroom.’ She held the door open, her hand brushing Claire’s arm warmly.
Claire stepped into the dim space, shelves lined with boxes and hanging garments. Samantha flicked on the light, the soft glow illuminating the cluttered room. She locked the door behind them with a click. ‘We keep it secure, valuable stock and all.’
Then Samantha’s hand found Claire’s hip, sliding slowly toward the front. She leaned in close, her breath hot against Claire’s ear. ‘Fuck, you look good in those jodhpurs.’
Claire mumbled a thanks, shifting her weight.
‘They… they feel good too.’
Samantha moaned softly. ‘I bet.’ Her tongue darted out, licking the soft skin around Claire’s neck, sending shivers down her spine.
Claire turned, their eyes locking. Their mouths drew closer, and suddenly they were kissing, tentative at first, then deeper. Claire’s heart raced with fear and thrill; she’d never done this before.
Samantha pulled back slightly, sensing the tension. ‘What’s wrong?’
Claire stammered, blushing furiously. ‘I’ve never… I mean, never been with another woman.’ She paused, then whispered, ‘Actually, I’ve never touched myself either.’
Samantha’s eyes darkened with desire. ‘Fuck me, this is going to be so good.’
She cupped Claire’s face gently, kissing her softly at first, lips brushing like a promise. Then the kiss deepened, tongues sliding against each other, exploring with growing hunger.
Samantha’s fingers worked at the buttons of Claire’s blouse, popping them open one by one until the white lace bra peeked out, cradling Claire’s small breasts. Her hand trailed down to the jodhpurs, but Claire brushed it away, uncertainty flashing in her eyes.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Samantha murmured against her lips. ‘You’ll like it, I promise. Just let me show you.’
Claire hesitated, her body screaming yes even as her mind whirled. Her pussy was already soaked, the ache insistent. She nodded, and Samantha moaned approvingly. ‘Good girl.’
With deliberate slowness, Samantha unzipped the jodhpurs, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She stepped back to admire her work, the open blouse framing the lace bra, the jodhpurs parted to reveal matching white lace panties clinging to Claire’s hips.
Samantha closed the distance again, kissing Claire hungrily, her body pressing close. One hand slipped into the panties, fingers gliding over smooth, shaved skin until they found Claire’s wet pussy lips. ‘Fuck, you’re wet,’ Samantha whispered, her voice husky.
Claire gasped as Samantha’s fingers parted her lips, tracing the slick entrance. She’d never felt anything like this, the touch was electric, sending jolts through her body. Samantha circled Claire’s clit slowly, teasing the swollen mound with feather-light strokes, building the pressure.
‘Oh god,’ Claire whimpered, her hips bucking instinctively. Her hands clutched at Samantha’s shoulders, nails digging in as waves of pleasure rolled over her.
Samantha kissed her neck, sucking gently on the skin while her fingers dipped lower, sliding one inside Claire’s tight pussy. It was so wet, so ready, that it slipped in easily, curling to press against that sensitive spot inside. Claire moaned loudly.
‘That’s it,’ Samantha encouraged, adding a second finger, sliding them in and out with a steady rhythm. Her thumb rubbed Claire’s clit in firm circles, the dual sensation making Claire’s legs tremble. The jodhpurs bunched around her thighs, restricting her movement just enough to heighten the intensity.
Claire’s breaths came in short pants, her body arching into Samantha’s touch. She felt something building deep inside, a pressure unlike anything she’d imagined, hot and wild, threatening to overflow. ‘Samantha… I don’t know… it feels…what’s happening.’
‘It’s ok sweetheart, you’re going to cum, let it happen,’ Samantha breathed, her free hand cupping Claire’s breast through the lace, pinching the nipple until it hardened. She fucked Claire’s pussy faster now, fingers thrusting deep, curling against her G-spot with every stroke. The wet sounds filled the stockroom.
Claire’s pussy fluttered, tightening around Samantha’s fingers as the pressure peaked. She cried out, her body in ecstasy. A gush of fluid burst from her, soaking Samantha’s hand and flooding her panties. The squirt kept coming in pulses, drenching the white lace until it turned translucent, the wetness seeping down into the jodhpurs’ fabric, darkening the crotch and thighs.
Samantha didn’t stop, teasing every last drop from Claire’s spasming pussy, whispering praises. ‘So fucking beautiful… you squirted for me, good girl.’
Claire collapsed against her, panting, the aftershocks rippling through her soaked core. The ruined panties and jodhpurs clung to her skin, a sticky reminder of her first squirt.
Samantha’s laughter bubbled up as she glanced down at Claire’s drenched panties clinging transparently to her skin and the jodhpurs bunched awkwardly around her thighs, soaked through. ‘Well, you can’t exactly waddle home like that,’ she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of lingering passion from their earlier escapade. ‘Why don’t you slip back into your own clothes for the ride? I’ll dig out something fresh for you to wear tomorrow, something that hugs those curves just right.’
‘Okay,’ Claire moaned softly. She steadied herself against a shelf, feeling the air cold against her sticky thighs.
Claire shuffled out of the stockroom. Her steps were unsteady, an awkward waddle that made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. In the dimly lit changing area, she spotted her old clothes folded neatly in the corner, the T-shirt and jeans that now felt worlds away from the clothes she’d just shed. With hurried fingers, she peeled off the clinging mess, the cool fabric of her panties sticking briefly before releasing with a soft, wet sound. She dried herself as best she could with a spare towel, then pulled on her old clothes.
The drive home in Samantha’s sleek, brand-new Range Rover was a blur of leather seats and the faint scent of money, the engine purring smoothly as they navigated the evening traffic. When they pulled up to Claire’s house, Samantha killed the ignition and popped the boot with a grin. Inside, an impressive array of shopping bags overflowed, crisp tissue paper peeking out, labels from high-end brands promising silken blouses, t-shirts, and lacy lingerie. ‘Here you go, Claire,’ Samantha said, her voice warm and generous.
‘Consider it a little welcoming gift for your shiny new job. You’ve earned it.’
Claire’s heart swelled as she reached over, pulling Samantha into a quick, grateful peck on the cheek, their lips brushing just close enough to spark a memory of the stockroom session. ‘Thank you… for everything,’ she whispered, her voice laced with sincerity and a touch of shy affection.
‘You’re welcome, sweetheart,’ Samantha replied with a soft smile, her hand lingering on Claire’s arm for a moment before letting go.
Claire gathered the bags, their handles digging into her palms as she hauled them up the stairs to her room. She stashed them under her bed for now, the rustle of bags echoing her quickened pulse, then headed back down to the kitchen to start on dinner. The aroma of sizzling onions and herbs soon filled the air as she chopped vegetables, her mind replaying the day’s events.
Lydia, her stepmom, sauntered in, her hips swaying with that familiar provocative grace. For the first time Claire could recall, a genuine smile curved Lydia’s full lips as she eyed her stepdaughter up and down.
‘ Nice day at work, Claire?’ she asked, her tone dripping with a knowing smirk, eyes flicking to the faint flush still colouring Claire’s cheeks.
‘Yes, thanks,’ Claire replied, forcing a bright smile while stirring the pot, the steam rising.
‘Glad to see you two getting along,’ came a deep, approving voice from the doorway. Claire’s father stood there, his broad frame filling the space, a twinkle in his eye as he took in the scene. ‘Lydia mentioned she’d caught a glimpse of you all dressed up, darling, something about ts, jodhpurs, and shiny boots. Bet you looked like a proper little princess in them. I was hoping to see the full getup myself.’
‘Oh, sorry, Dad,’ Claire said, her voice light but her pulse quickening at the casual praise. ‘They got dirty….at work. I’ll make sure to bring them home next time’.
Her father chuckled, a warm rumble, and nodded approvingly before turning toward the sitting room, his footsteps fading into the cozy hum of the TV.
Lydia leaned in close then, her breath warm against Claire’s ear, that smile sharpening into something wicked and teasing. ‘I bet they got fucking dirty at work, you little tease,’ she murmured, her words a sultry whisper that sent a shiver down Claire’s spine. With a final, lingering glance, Lydia straightened and strode out of the kitchen, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor, leaving Claire alone with the simmering pot and a rush of heated thoughts.