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Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 01

By: sammican1



I've started writing a series of accounts about my life in London; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a glamour model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Account One

Getting Started – Part one.

Chapter 1

I've come to realise at the grand old age of twenty years and eleven months that I'm a sexual oddity. There's rarely a minute that goes by in any waking hour that I don't think of sex, yet I don't yearn to do it. I can go ages without it and, unlike what some of my more active friends at stage school, say, I don't get warts and pimples after a month without sex. In fact I don't even get that frustrated if I go months with out it. Maybe part of my oddness is that I enjoy mental sex. I can sometimes be shagged six or seven times a day up there, but be celibate down below.

I also prefer older men. Not because of their paunches or baldness, but because of their experience. A slow lazy fuck based upon years of knowledge always beats a quick urgent one where we're learning together, or, mega times worse, where I'm the teacher!

I have no inhibitions about sex. Well intellectually at least. In theory I'd do anything, children, animals and body waste apart that is. I cannot see that anything that two people want to try or do that gives them both pleasure and excitement can be wrong. Come to that I can't think of anything that one person wants to do that I'd say is wrong, with the above caveat on children of course. 

So summing me up.

I'm an inexperienced, incredibly open-minded sexual adventurer, who doesn't do it much but when she does she prefers it with older men.

Now is that odd or what?

Sweet smelling candles, luxurious, silk sheets preferably on a four poster bed, wine or champagne, vases overflowing with roses and me in the finest, sheerest, laciest, sexiest nightdress imaginable. With me, a handsome, tall twenty something man with the consideration of a Samaritan, the tenderness of a nurse, the experience of an octogenarian and a cock like a bull. That's was how I imagined being deflowered. Loving, caring, considerately and so absolutely romantically it would make Mills and Boon, yes both of them, cry with envy.

An Audi TT isn't the ideal car to get laid in at any time. It may look funky, corner like a train and go like shit but as a fuckwagon, forget it. There's no proper back seat and the tunnel running down the middle with the gear lever sticking out makes acrobatics essential for all those brave enough to try. So, in the back, half standing, half kneeling bent over the pushed forward front seats I gave up my virginity. Maybe it was inelegant, unladylike, undignified and uncomfortable, but for me it was also fabulously exciting and pleasurable. I'm the only person I know who thinks they had an orgasm when their cherry popped; possibly that accounts for my sexual oddness. On the other hand, of course, it may have been pins and needles or a bout of cramp, but as the somewhat nerdy kid from down the street shoved his thing in me, squeezed my tit, my left one actually, and humped away for a few seconds I believe I climaxed. 

(Oh yes that's another part of my oddity. I adore intelligence, hence the nerd. A really smart remark, an incisive comment, a statement about a little known fact or an analysis of a complicated issue can, literally, have me creaming myself. And if someone tells me something that's wonderfully intellectually challenging I can almost feel my knickers sliding downwards before the end of the sentence, well let's say paragraph, after all I'm not that easy!)

I could hardly believe when I got home and mum said.

"Had a nice evening dear?" that she couldn't see that I'd changed. Surely she'd notice I was no longer a kid? Surely she can see I was now a woman? But no, all she said was.

"You'd better get off to bed Samantharrrrrrrrrr," 

She always emphasised the ending a of my name as a long arrrr, like the sound you make when a doctor looks down your throat. That's why, to all but her, and dad when he's trying to get in her good books or wants shag, I'm now Sam or Sammi.

It was the same with dad the next morning. Not a spark of interest in his new daughter. No reference to my new womanly look, well I guess that was diluted somewhat by the cream and red striped summer blazer we wore at my ultra posh private school. I forgave him for not welcoming me to the grown up world of people that fucked, for I was also wearing the blue gingham, pleated skirt, white blouse and tie of a schoolgirl.

I desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone almost so the lollipop lady was extremely lucky I didn't whisper as she showed us a cross the road by the school gates.

"I got laid last night, I'm now a woman."

I mulled over who I could tell but couldn't think of who I wanted to tell. I wanted loads of girls and some boys to know that I was now in play, up for it, fully experienced and ready for anything, but to tell them it was that prick Kelvin Adams and that he'd had me in the back of his mum's car, an uncool Audi TT with no back seat at that, just wasn't on. 

I decided to be enigmatic about it, although I wasn't quite sure what that was, but it sounded good. So I wandered around for the next few days with an enigmatic smile on my face and an enigmatic look in my eye.

"Are you ok Samantharrrrrrrrrrr?" Mum asked after a day or so, "you sure you're not sickening for something?"

So much for me being enigmatic.

I had sex with Kelvin a couple more times; more as a reward really for services rendered rather than as a strong need on my part, but I could see it was going absolutely nowhere. Not that I wanted it go any special place, for, after all, there is a limit to how much raw intelligence compensates for looks; and being able to decline Latin verbs as you deflower a maiden doesn't really compensate for acne!

In any case I'd got what I wanted and needed. I was a woman now. I was experienced; after all I'd been fucked six or seven time now. The mystique had gone; I could have sex whenever and with whoever I wanted. I think that may well have been the first time I realised just what a sexual oddity I was. For now I'd done it, I didn't have a desperate urge to keep doing it.

Chapter 2

I was a bit of a whiz at tennis. I'd played for both my school and my county and with a little more dedication I could probably have been even better. My coach told me that with a little more dedication I might be able to get to get into the Wimbledon tournament, but dedication and a teenager finding their way in the grown up world aren't natural bedfellows. So by the time Kelvin had plucked my cherry, my love affair with tennis was on the wane. I still belonged to a club and played quite a lot but not with the ambition of improving. After all I'd found men, well Kelvin, and sex. They were much more interesting.

"We've been drawn away to a couple from Colchester" Richard said to me, "I'll drive you down, OK?"

"Sure," I replied over my shoulder pretending not to be too keen.

Richard was a thirty something, single guy at the tennis club. Quite a good player and an even better looker, we'd been paired up by the club's match organiser to represent the club in a county mixed doubles knock out tournament.

He was tall, well built and always seemed to have a tan. He was funny and witty and spent quite a lot of time with the junior section, not just the girls but also giving tips and help to the boys as well. Nearly all of the girls, me included, fancied him like hell, but at the dances and parties he always had a cracking looking, sophisticated woman on his arm, who, he is reputed to have told others, "was just a friend, nothing serious.". Although he flirted quite outrageously with us younger girls no one admitted or claimed to have bedded him.

"Fancy a drink Sam, or wouldn't your mum like that?" he asked looking at me and smiling as we bowled along the A12 in his BMW.

"Sure, I'd love to," I replied ignoring the mum remark.

"You are old enough aren't you; it's so difficult with you young fillies?"

Sort of sitting up straighter in my seat and probably pushing my chest out a bit I said, rather grandly.

"I am over eighteen you know."

He laughed and glancing across patted me on my knee.

"I know, just joking Sam, I can tell you are."

I didn't quite know how to take him. He was always joking and taking the piss so you had to be both on your guard and on your toes when with him. I really couldn't tell whether he was sending me up or chatting me up most of the time.

"Are you at school tomorrow?" He asked as we sat in the pretty little bar of the country pub he'd pulled into.

"Yes I am."

"And what time do you have to be home on a school day?"

"Oh mum and dad are pretty cool about such things, so around eleven's fine."

He looked at his watch. "Good, we've got ages then, so there's no rush."

We'd won the tennis match love and love and the whole thing was finished in just over half an hour. We'd had a quick cup of tea and a sandwich with our opponents before setting off for home at around seven so it was now just eight o'clock. As he said, plenty of time. For what though, I wondered, my heart beating a little faster.

I'd had a shower after the match, even though I'd hardly perspired, and had put on a clear pair of panties and bra under the white track suit I was wearing. I guessed Richard had done the same but had no idea what he was wearing under it.

"Would you like another?" he asked pointing at the emptied glass that had contained white vermouth and soda, a drink I thought sounded all sophisticated and grown up when I'd asked for it? "Or shall we go and take a slow, lazy drive home," he went pausing before adding, "as you don't have to home until eleven."

As he was saying that his eyes were boring into mine and he had a slight smile on his face. That made me feel slightly nervous, for he was clearly flirting and I knew I was out of my depth.

"Whatever, I don't mind."

"You sure Sam, you don't mind?"

I laughed to cover my embarrassment. "I'll leave it up to you what we do."

Still with that smile on his face he leaned forward, glanced around at the other drinkers in the small bar, put both hands on my knees, lowered his voice and whispered.

"Sam, if you leave it to me do you know what we'll do?"

I could hardly breathe let alone talk so I stammered.

"No Richard, no I don't"

"Shall I tell you what I would like to do?"

"Yes, yes please," I croaked lowering my eyes so I escaped from his almost hypnotic gaze.

He paused for a while his gaze running over me as he seemed to be deciding what to say. Then again with that little smile and with his fingers pinching my knees he said.

"I'd like us to get in the car, find somewhere very quiet and isolated and then I'd like to kiss you Sam."

"Oh God," I couldn't help blurting out in amazement, shock and surprise.

He laughed. "It's not that terrible an idea is it?"

"No, no," I laughed, "you just surprised me that's all," I went on trying desperately hard to appear to be cool about it and give the impression this sort of thing happened to me all the time.

"So the ideas ok then?" he asked cleverly putting me on the spot, "It's just the surprise is it?"

I had no idea how to handle this so I had a sip of my drink, completely forgetting the glass was empty.

Again holding my gaze he said. "So shall we then?"

Trying to be smart I said. "What have a drink or a surprise?"

Leaning even further forward and quite unashamedly peering right down the front of my tracksuit top, he kissed me on the cheek.

"No Sam neither of those, this," he muttered as his lips found mine.

BMW 5 series do have back seats: big, wide, deep back seats: luxurious, leather back seats: back seats that are big enough to lie out on. And it was on one of those that Richard fucked me. He didn't just fuck me, though; he taught me and educated me. And I loved every single minute of those two and a half hours on the back seat of his BMW.

I was easy, I guess. I put up only a cursory struggle after we'd pulled into a little car park in some woods just off the busy A12. When he leaned across and kissed me, I did say, "Richard you shouldn't." But I knew as his hand so confidently found and so maturely and properly squeezed my breast, my words lacked conviction. He knew it as well for he took not the slightest bit of notice and continued caressing my breast just as if I'd said nothing.

In some ways, no in most if I'm honest, I was pleased he was being so assumptive about me. He obviously thought I was far more experienced than I was for he was treating me so grown up, like a woman, like an adult lover really, I suppose. But seeming experienced and play-acting at it are far different from actually being experienced, for I had no real idea how to act or what to do.

"God I've wanted to do this to you for so long Sam, you can't imagine," he breathed into my ear as his hand on my breasts and his tongue and lips on my mouth did such delicious things to me.

I thought I knew about kissing, knew how to kiss and knew what a good kiss from a boy was all about. But I was so wrong, as Richard showed me so quickly. What he showed me was that I may well have known how boys kiss, but not men and their lovers. 

They kiss with adventure, excitement, confidence and passion. They kiss with mouths wide open, tongues deep in the other's throat and lips grinding and squirming together. They suck on each others lips, firstly the top then the bottom, they nibble their partner's tongue, they pull it and the other's lips into their mouth and they kiss all over the mouth, face, throat and neck. Yes, I soon learned I knew nothing about kissing, but I learned very quickly and soon I was kissing Richard with the verve, energy, eagerness and passion that he was kissing me.

I hardly realised he'd slid the zip down on my trackie top down. That is until I felt his hand right on my bra, then with hardly a hesitation, inside it and without further ado lifting it from its cup as he pinched the rapidly hardening nipple. 

"Oh Sammi you have such magnificent breasts, I've lusted for them for ages."

God did adults really talk like that? Did they say such expressive things? I knew they did in films, but in real life?

"I've wanted you do badly Sam is almost hurts. When I see you at the club, especially in your tight tops and that skimpy pink skirt you wear, I get an instant hard on."

"Oh Richard," I sighed as I ran my fingers through his long, rather old fashioned hairstyle, "I bet you think that about all the girls at the club."

"No Sam," he said sounding very sincere, "it's just you." Then, playing what was probably his trump card, he went on. "You're different to the others, more adult, more grown up, they seem like little girls, you're a woman."

I was gone. I was totally out of it; out of my depth, out of my mind and, had he have asked, I'd have been out of my clothes as well.

"Let's get in the back?" he asked, saying it, though, more like and order than a suggestion, "I want to be able to undress you, properly."

Oh God he's going to undress me, and properly, in a car, I repeated in my mind, fervidly wondering what, properly, meant when applied to undressing. No may I or would you like that? No simply, I want to undress you properly. So wonderfully assumptive, so erotically perfect, so shudderingly exciting and so, so, so grown up. It was obviously such a natural and normal thing for two such grown ups to say to each other that I was on my feet struggling back between the seats with no further asking. As I sank back into the corner of the big, black leather, BMW, backseat waiting for Rick to join me, I realised I'd always preferred beamers over Audis and now I knew why. Thinking like the woman I now was and like the mature lover that Richard was treating me as, I mused, "they're so much better to be fucked in than Audi's!"

But I had little time for musing, for he quickly clambered into the back and took me in his arms. Pulling me to him, he was half lying on me and half on the seat as we again kissed deeply and, I thought, quite wildly, certainly wilder than any I'd ever done previously. His hand was again all over my breasts, outside the thin bra squeezing and rubbing and inside pinching and caressing. My trackie top that I'd covertly zipped up as I transferred from the front to the back, came, as if by magic unzipped again and his fingers were easing the bra cups away from my boobs as we continued kissing and kissing and kissing. 

He reached up and switched on a dim light in the corner that was presumably used for passengers to read and not disturb the driver. It doubled very well, though, as a light for the driver to look at a passenger's tits by.

"Oh God Sam, your breasts are gorgeous, so firm, so full and so fucking lovely I could eat them," he moaned into my ear, his words arousing me almost as much as his hands and the large lump of his erection pressing into my hip. 

He was fumbling behind me with my bra clasp. That made me smile for the three or four boys and Kelvin who'd done that to me all seemed to struggle with that and I thought, "even experienced men find undoing a girl's bra a mystery.

"Oh fuck," he said right into my ear, "these bloody clasps, I don't know why they aren't made of Velcro."

"Oh Rick, don't be silly, they're easy."

"Well if they're so bloody easy you do it."

I fell for that line, for, somewhat foolishly, I sat up, reached behind me and as quick as a flash undid the clasp. Letting the strap go the cups slithered down my boobs a bit but stayed on them, covering my breasts a little. In a thick voice he croaked.

"Take it off Sam, please take it off."

I knew that to get the bra off I'd have to remove the trackie top and that once that was off I wouldn't easily get it back on and I'd be in the car half naked. Well at least half I thought, for he'd clearly only just started and I didn't for one moment think he was going to stop there, nor really did I want him to. But it was dangerous; anyone including the police could suddenly come into the car park and catch us. I couldn't bear to think of the repercussions if they took my address and then told my parents.

I didn't want Rick thinking I was a wimp or that I was unused to such things, for so far I think I'd done a pretty good job of giving him the impression that I was far more experienced than I really was. I was, though, scared.

"No Richard I can't"

"Why, why not?"

"Someone might come."

"Well I hope we both do," he laughed pulling the cup away from my left breast so that the nipple was bared.

"Don't be silly," I smiled back pulling the track top back around me. "I can't undress here."

"But you would if you were sure it was safe then?" he cleverly retorted kissing me and slipping his hand inside the top right onto my boob.


Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 01



"You know what I mean Rick, what if a police car pulled in?"

"I reckon they'd ogle you through the window as they asked me a few questions, very, very slowly."

I couldn't help smiling at both his attitude and the way that he was slowly opening my track suit top again.

"Tell you what," he said quickly, "if we go right to the far end of the car park, over by that big tree, we can park under it and no one will see us and if anyone drives in we'll see their lights first. Ok?"

He cuddled me to him as he finished talking, kissing me and caressing my tummy. "Yes Sam, yes? Let's do it, I so want you, so want to see you and make love to you. You're such a totally desirable woman Sam, I just can't help myself."

Again, his choice of words was so perfect for the situation. I didn't know whether that was purely coincidental and lucky or whether he knew just what he was doing. I didn't care, though, for he was saying the things I wanted to hear. I wanted to be wanted, I wanted him to want to make love to me, I wanted him to think I was, and to treat me as, a woman, not a schoolgirl.

"OK, but directly we see a car we stop, yes?"

As he clambered back into the front he said over his shoulder. 

"Of course."

We were hardly parked up when he was alongside me in the back again removing my top and bra almost in one go.

"Let me have the top," I said to make sure I could cover myself quickly if necessary.

We kissed again and once more he caressed and squeezed my boobs and nipples before slipping his hand down onto my thigh. My legs were closed, his erection pushed firmly against the outside of my thigh. 

I obviously knew what was coming next; after all that's how seductions go isn't it? That's the process. Some kissing, tit caressing, bare them and then check out below. See if she's up for the whole bit, well at the very least some fingering and if you're lucky maybe a wank. And of course, if you are really, really lucky you might get a shag. That's the men's charter for sex isn't it? At least that what we girls think and so far Rick had followed it to the tee!

But then suddenly there was a major diversion, a change of rules, a breaking of the procedure. Instead of his hand squirming its way between my thighs, opening them a bit and then sliding upwards to the "promised land," his hand grabbed mine. I didn't know why at first, but that quickly and spectacularly became very clear.

It was big, very hard and surprisingly warm. His erection through the thin, material of his track trousers that is, for with a confidence my limited sex career had not yet encountered, he'd taken my hand and put it right on his hard on.

"Oh yes Sam," he groaned, just as if I'd put it there myself. "That's wonderful, baby, stroke it for me."

I didn't really know what to do, but now being an experienced woman, a tried and tested lover I let my womanly instincts take over. His grunting and sighing, the pushing of his cock against my hand and the fervid way he kissed me and caressed my chest told me I was on the right lines.

After that it all became somewhat hazy and muddled. I forget the sequence of things and all the little nuances; my mind failed to recall the details; I couldn't remember how my hand was suddenly inside his track trousers, holding and rubbing his cock; I don't know how my trousers came to be round my ankles and my panties round my knees. I knew we kissed and kissed and kissed and that his mouth did the most wondrous things to my nipples; that for the first time they were sucked, licked, chewed and gently bitten. I had no idea just how powerfully arousing and how shatteringly exciting it was to have your tits sucked and your nipples chewed, particularly when you're holding and stroking an urgent, throbbing cock and his fingers are exploring your insides at length and in depth.

Like that I forgot that I was not an experienced lover; that I had not had sexual encounters with the intensity of this; that I was not the mature womanly lover I was desperately trying to be and that I was what I was. An eighteen year old girl who'd only lost her virginity three weeks previously. And such girls have no resistance to such advances, we cannot hold out, our body isn't able to stop the stimulations and our mind isn't capable of overruling the physical demands. But then neither was Rick, neither was my experienced older lover, for as I rubbed his fantastic cock he started to grunt and groan and push it harder against my hand. It was as though he was fucking my hand and not my pussy. But somehow his thrusts against my hand and his fingers inside me had the same effect as if I was being shagged, well not the same as those with Kelvin, for these feelings were a load more powerful.

I moaned, I grunted, I groaned, sighed and almost cried as I felt his hot, sticky mess creep across my hand and thigh. 

"I've made him cum," I thought proudly. But I had little time self-congratulations, for as he'd started to cum so he'd shoved his fingers deeper into me and had started pumping them. That instantly put me over the top and I too started cumming.

I was sobbing and hanging onto Rick so desperately as wave after wave of such fantastic feelings engulfed my mind and body that I knew then that it indeed was pins and needles with Kelvin in his mum's Audi TT.

Richard, or Rick as he liked to be called, educated me so much on that big, black beamer seat.

He gave me, what was my first real orgasm. He later gave me my second, third, fourth and fifth ones as well that evening. He taught me just how amazing it is to have your breasts made love to and how incredibly sensitive is that piece of gristle at the entry to your pussy, that boys can rarely find let alone stimulate. He also fucked me properly. Just the once after recovering from the hand job. Yes just the once, but what a once. 

I can remember thinking, as he slid the condom off, tied it into a knot and then threw it from the car, that I'd been shagged properly. That I'd at last I'd made love fully, that now I really was a woman because I'd been fucked like one on that back seat.

Unlike Kelvin, Richard didn't rush things. Unlike the other boys I'd messed around with there was no signs of guilt or concern over what we doing, no apparent worries as to whether I would or not, but then why should there be between two experienced adults like us, I thought, my tongue very much in my cheek as I thought it

No we'd started our sexual relationship in an open, uninhibited way. In a way that was wonderfully enthusiastic, awesomely erotic and fantastically sordid all at the same time.

Sure I'd been fingered before and yes I'd given a couple of boys hand jobs, so what Richard did to me wasn't new; the way he did it though was very new, very different and very, very much more exciting and satisfying. I really felt that we'd shared something so, so special together.

After we'd both cum we just lay there for a while with me feeling very grown up cradling my lover to my naked bosom, just like the novels say it should be. I knew nothing first hand about men's recovery rates and how these varied between kids in their teens and men in their thirties. I didn't know that the older a guy got and the more experienced he was the longer, generally, it took for him to be ready again. So after twenty minutes or so I was expecting Richard to be ready again, for I was. But other than a few little kisses and the occasional caress he simply laid there holding me.

"That was wonderful Sam," he suddenly sighed, "you did enjoy it didn't you?"

I was probably a little too gushing with my reply that I felt, as it came out of my mouth, might well blow the impression I was trying to create of being so much more experienced than my sexual portfolio of a few times with Kelvin.

"Oh yes, yes, yes, Richard it was awesome, it was wicked, it almost blew me away."

"I see you did like it then," he said looking up at me and smiling and adding, "quite a lot then?"

"Yes Rick, you could say that, and you, was it good for you too?"

"It was babe; you have as natural a talent for this as you do for tennis."

"Gee thanks, remember my tennis was crap earlier."

"Saving your strength for me weren't you?"

We chatted on like this for a while with me wondering just when he was going to make another move. I wanted that, for having gone this far with him I didn't want the evening to end without him shagging me. I had to keep reminding myself, as we lay there, with me still as good as naked, that this was grown up sex, they didn't rush things or hurry the natural process, it was up to me to be patient. I was in very experienced hands I told myself and Rick would know absolutely the perfect time to get things going again. And he did.

As we chatted so his fingers started running over my tummy. Making little circles he'd run them upwards towards my boobs then down towards my pubes. They went round and round going upwards, then round and round going downwards; nearer and nearer to my breasts and closer and closer to my pussy. All the time talking about pretty non-sexual matters, he was starting to drive me crazy with want.

I slid my hand down between us. I wanted to feel him, to hold him and stroke him. Slipping my hand inside his trackie trousers I was surprised not to have them find his erection. I fumbled around a bit as he continued drawing circles on my body, still going near but not quite touching my real erogenous. Men's boxers and shirttails can be such a maze to get through, particularly when, as was the case I found to my horror with Rick, they aren't erect. I found and grasped his, at best and being very generous, half erection feeling amazingly disappointed and really, terribly hurt. 

I'd never touched anything other than a full erection before and had no idea that sometimes the woman has to help her partner gain his full rampant majesty.

"What's wrong with me? Why hasn't he got hard, what have I done wrong?" I was thinking as on one of his upwards sweeps his finger trailed across both of my breasts.

"Mmm that's good Sam, keep doing that," he murmured rolling more onto his die to give me more room. "Yes, yes, just like that," he went his fingers sweeping across my pubes and then up and across my nipples.

He moved away a bit and in the dim light I saw that he was pulling his trousers down. I helped him to struggle them and his boxers right down round his ankles. I was holding him again and I couldn't help sneaking glances at his tackle, for I'd never been with a boy and looked at them and not seen a full hard on. 

"Mmmmmm, that's lovely," he muttered as, with my confidences growing, I not only stroked his cock but, tentatively at first then more assuredly, I stroked, cradled and rolled his balls in my hands. That felt wonderful to me. It was something I'd never done before, but there and then in that car I resolved that it was something I was going to do many, many more times. As I loved his cock and balls so he was squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples and running his fingers over my mound, alongside my clit and round and round the soaked perimeter of my pussy.

All the concern, the disappointment and the self-doubt were disappearing, and fast. They were being more than compensated for by yet another load of new sensations for me. Other than have it happen in your mouth, but that was something for much later, I don't think there can be a warmer, more endearing, loving, sharing, caring and sheer fucking sexy feeling than having your lover's cock grow to its full size in your hands. If, at the same time, he's using both his hands on your breasts and pussy and sucking and slurping at your nipples, then clearly it's erotic paradise next stop.

He was now fully hard and as good as naked; I was soaking wet and also as good as naked; he was ready and I was ready. And we just simply did it.

He slipped a condom on, pushed me even further back into the corner of the car, and laid between my legs that I knowingly opened for him. A moment or two getting the angle right as we kissed and his arms went round me his hands finding the bare cheeks of my bum and then we were doing it. 

The whoosh of feelings as he surged up me took my breath away and it stayed like that as he started to fuck me. He was thrusting quickly up and down my pussy. Using long deep surges the tip of his cock went to totally unvisited areas of my insides. He found places up there that were so wonderfully sensitive that it seemed to me as if my entire pussy was alive.

I was groaning and moaning; my head was thrashing from side to side; my body almost convulsing and I was finding it hard to breath, so intense were both the emotional and physical reactions to this awesome fuck. What Rick was doing to me was as far away from what Kelvin had done as Concorde was to Kittyhawk. 

I tried to resist, I tried to think and act experienced, I tried to give something back and I tried, as I'd read a woman should do, to find his rhythm. But when being fucked as I was all those plans, efforts and thoughts go out the window.

Chapter 3

"Oh no baby, you keep that blazer, shirt, tie and skirt on, I want to fuck you in them," Richard said. 

And fuck me in them he did. 

We'd had no contact at all for a few days after that momentous evening in the woods. I hadn't heard from him and he wasn't at the Thursday evening club night. We hadn't exchanged mobile numbers so he couldn't call me. I was so relieved, then, to see him on the next court to me on the Saturday morning. 

I tried to catch his eye and when I thought I had a couple of times, I smiled and mentally at least pushed my breasts out. I'd purposefully worn the low-cut top and the skimpy, tight, pink skirt he'd told me I looked great in and I'd removed my track suit even though the mid-May morning was a little chilly and hardly anyone else had. But all to no avail. Other than a couple of nods from him and a small smile, there were no other acknowledgements. I was hurt, confused and miserable and I played lousy, causing my partner and me to be beaten by a far inferior couple.

I finished playing well before him. Although I tried no too, I couldn't help glancing out the clubhouse window and watching him bound round the court. I saw his strong arms playing powerful fore and backhands and as he did so I recalled them around me. I thought of his hands, that I watched holding the racket and when he served the tennis balls, on me, all over my breasts, removing my clothes and lifting me up so I could sit astride him the second time he shagged me.

I looked at his long, lean, tanned legs and remembered caressing them and being entwined between them as he edged his marvellous cock into me the first time. I saw his body, his bum, his chest and his bulge under his thin shorts and top and thought of being pressed against them, stroking them and almost being part of them as we'd laid naked completely oblivious to whether anyone might turn up in the car park.

I saw all of that, all of him and all of us and I ended up in the ladies loo sobbing.

It was a shock when later I felt someone behind me leaning forward to whisper in my ear.

"I'll pick you up after school on Monday and we can go for a drive for a couple of hours. Ok?" Rick said and without another word walked off with his mates.

Talk about "treat 'em mean and keep 'em keen!" 

Well that certainly worked for me. At the break before school was ending on the Monday; there was I in the loo slipping out of my regulation school bra and panties and into a silky, lacy bra and thong. It felt odd sitting in the English lesson wearing that sort of gear under my school uniform, for I'd never done that before.

There was absolutely no way on God's earth I wanted Richard to see me in my school uniform. It screamed out that I was just a kid and not the sophisticated lover he'd had on the back seat of his car a few days before. But what could I do? I had no alternative. It wasn't allowed for pupils, even upper sixth form girls, to change out of school uniform in the school or within half a mile of leaving it. And he'd said he'd meet me just round the corner from the main entrance, so I was literally fucked wasn't I? Still, I reconciled over the weekend, if the price I had to pay for really being fucked was to be seen in my school uniform then it was worth it.

Luckily I still had the, nearly, all over tan I'd got in Florida at half term and that had been topped up on my legs by the recent, unusually warm spring weather. I could, therefore, wear mid height heels without tights and as I was leaving the school I hitched my skirt up a bit to, as far as a girl could be, look sexy in her school uniform.

"Oh my God, babe," he croaked as he kissed me when I got in the car. "You look absolutely fucking ravenous, your every man's wet dream, come here let me kiss you."

I was vaguely aware of some kids walking past the car but I didn't care for I knew they'd tell others.

"We saw Sammi Cannock snogging with a bloke in a BM."

I thought he might take me to his home but no once more it was into the woods. A different forest, a different car park but one that was as equally isolated and away from other cars and people as the first one had been. This time though it was broad daylight.

"No one ever comes here," he told me making me wonder how he knew that, but making me excited by his obvious desire for me.

As I've learned most men do, Rick followed a similar routine with me as last time. Kissing me then caressing my breasts, getting them out and then attacking the epicentre of a woman's sexuality, her pussy. And this time he attacked that energetically, easily breaking down any defences I might have wanted to put in his way. Like for instance a, "should we?" or a pause of a nanosecond or two before opening my thighs or the really strong defence of, "someone might come Rick." I tried them all, but to no avail. 

I was defenceless, not just emotionally but physically as well, for as I'd laid back in the corner of the seat so my flimsy skirt had ridden well up my bare legs. So intent was he on kissing me and playing with my tits, that were pulled out of the bra but were still inside the white cotton, unbuttoned blouse and white and red striped prefect's blazer, that he seemed to be ignoring my long, tanned bare legs. Silly me, I forgot the process, the procedure, the sequence that men go through; it wasn't the turn of down below yet was it?

After a respectable and rather wonderful fifteen minutes of breast and nipple manipulation that took me close to a climax, he at last turned his attention elsewhere. He raised his head from where it had been nestling on my chest chewing and licking my breasts and nipples and looked down. It was almost as though he was looking at my legs for the first time. But then last time it had been dark, so I forgave him immediately.

"Oh wow, Sam they're awesome," he murmured taking hold of the hem of the thin, blue, gingham check, skirt that was bisecting my thighs. "Mmmmmm so lovely," he whispered, possessively running his fingers up from beneath my knee to the hem of the skirt.  

Then slowly, so very, very slowly, so unusually slowly and patiently for Rick, he lifted the hem. He lifted it up and up revealing more and more of my legs, my thigh, my thong and the outline of my mound beneath it. He just stared at me for what seemed ages. He was breathing quite heavily and his hand that wasn't holding my skirt was round my shoulders gripping me tighter and tighter as he continued staring at me. He was making low, almost animal like moans as his fingers ran up and down each of my thighs. They went right along that particularly smooth area that had I been wearing stockings, not actually that I have any and I never have worn them, would have been the patch on the inside of my thighs between the stocking tops and my panties.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 01



"So soft, so smooth, Sam."

I didn't know what to do or say. I contemplated perhaps opening my legs and saying something incredibly romantic like, "fuck me Rick," or "play with my pussy," but rejected the idea, after all I wasn't that experienced to have that amount of confidence. So I just laid there as he visually inspected my most womanly places.

And, amazingly to me it aroused me more and more. 

The sordid, wanton scene got to me. My blouse was open, but my tie was still done up, pushed to one side. I still had my bra on and done up but each boob had been yanked from its protective covering and the fiercely red, hugely swollen tips were totally bare and still wet and shiny with his spittle. I was wearing the blazer, but that was bunched up behind me somewhere, and Rick was holding my skirt up around my waist. And of course he was staring intently at my tanned thighs and the bulge of my pubis inside the lacy thong. 

I'd obviously experienced nothing like this before. Ok, from my pre virginity loss days, from the time I lost it and the times with Kelvin following that and from last week with Richard I was quite experienced on the back seats of cars, in fact I was beginning to think of myself as a back seat jockey. But apart from with Rick they had all been fumblingly awkward, rather rushed and uncomfortably executed sex sessions. Almost as if we were saying, "we suppose we have to do it, so let's get it out the way quickly." The typical way of the inexperienced I suppose, so not like me now, what?

"Kiss me Richard," I whispered reaching out and placing my hand on his face. He ignored that and instead slid his hand further up my thigh so that the side of that brushed, quite firmly, right against my pussy lips under the lace. It was like an electric shock; my entire body shuddered as a deep grunt slid from my mouth.

That seemed to shake him out of his voyeuristic, unusual for him, lethargy. He left his hand right there cupping my mound and pussy, he rubbed me and stroked me. And then everything speeded up. Quickly he pushed my pretty, little, non-regulation thong to one side and had three fingers buried inside me. And just as quickly I was writhing and squirming my pretty little cunt on his three fingered surrogate cock.

He made me cum, quickly and very hard, as hard as I'd yet cum in my short sexual career. 

We lay there for a moment and then he started to undress. He undid his shirt and I sat up and ran my fingers over his chest that was so much hairier than any of the boys I'd messed around with as I plucked up the courage to go all the way. I hadn't properly seen that in the gloom of the other evening so to see the thick covering of dark hair was quite a shock. But it felt good running my fingers through it and I could only imagine the rasping, slightly scratchy feelings I'd get when my bare breasts were ground against it. And I knew, well hoped, that would be very soon. As he undid his belt and zip I thought I should show how mature I was so I started to remove the blazer and my blouse. And that's when he told me to leave them on for he wanted to fuck me in them. A bit odd I thought but then men are aren't they?

He didn't seem to be in the slightest worried that anyone might come into the place we were parked, for he undressed completely, even removing his socks. I ran my eyes up and down his body. It was glorious. Well-defined muscles, no flab or fat, lithe and lean and very, very fit; I thought he was awesome and his long, hard cock was just absolutely wicked. I wanted that in me and soon.

And, of course I got it. Still fully dressed, with my tits gaping out of the blouse, my skirt bunched up around my waist, the thong pulled to one side he shagged me hard and fast lying between my widely opened legs. Half way through he lifted my legs up and put my ankles over his shoulders. God did that seem grown up. He fucked me with my legs over his shoulders then once more, about an hour or so later, with me straddling him.

I liked both of those positions for they showed him just how mature and adventurous a lover I was didn't they?

Chapter 4

That became our routine. Over the next few weeks he'd meet me after school two or three times a week and we'd go and have sex in the back of his car. Well not always in the back of it, for as the weather warmed up we also used the front seat, the outside of it, alongside it and the bonnet. Wow was I growing up sexually so fast?

The schedule, though, played havoc with my studies. Fortunately, they were almost completed for the year and for my time at that school, for I was going to uni in September. I had to lie to mum that I was staying back at school doing some project or the other in preparation for uni, but she didn't care or mind. As long as I didn't interfere with her golf, bridge and tennis arrangements and the affair I suspected she was having with a golf coach much younger than her, all was cool with her.

Was I in love? Had I fallen for this thirty three year old? Was it a passing fancy, an infatuation or was it just lust? How the hell could I know, I'd never felt like I did about him. I wanted him, wanted him touching me, wanted his hands on me and my body against his. I wanted that all the time I was with him. The moment I saw him in his car I think I started to cum, certainly my nipples burst into bud. But, oddly, when I wasn't with him I didn't dream about him or even think that much about him. Sure, I often masturbated in my bed and I guess he was part of my wankfest, but mainly it was, out of sight out of mind as far as Richard was concerned. See a bit of a hard as well as spoiled bitch aren't I?

To say he liked my schoolgirl uniform is an understatement. He was obsessed with it. I asked him a couple of times if I could leave a pair of jeans and a top in his car, but he wouldn't let me on the grounds that he wanted me in uniform. I did wonder if there were other reasons as well, but I put those out of my mind, although I did ask him about the Claire that he occasionally brought to the tennis club.

"She's an old flame really Sam?" he explained as we lay naked on a blanket alongside a river. "It's a little pathetic really, I keep trying to ditch her, but she won't accept it."

"Oh dear."

"Yes I feel sorry for her and I guess I'm just too soft," he went on rolling both of my nipples at the same time between his fingers and thumbs.

He changed the subject which was just as well for I'd lost interest due the feelings pounding out from my nipples.

The first time Richard had picked me up from school I'd changed my underwear. The second time he just turned up so I was wearing the regulation large blue knickers and the full bra that was described in the regulations sent to parents as having to, "cover all of each breast, have no lace and be thick enough to ensure that nothing showed through them". Practical, boring and about as sexy as a pair of old ladies knickers. I was so nervous when he undid my blouse but it didn't seem to deter him, after all what was in the bra was more important to him than the look of it. And when he saw those knickers I thought at the least he'd laugh, but no, if anything they turned him on. Men!!!

But I just didn't feel right having sex in his car or frolicking around in the woods or by the river in such unglamorous stuff, so I always carried some spare glam stuff in my briefcase in case he turned up unexpected.

"I just can't Rick, I'm sorry," I explained. "They're such a turn off for me and so little girly, I can't feel comfortable wearing them."

"Ok then wear nothing."

So that became part of the routine. I'd go to the loo before the last period began and would remove the offending garments. I'd then sit through the lesson naked under my skirt and blouse making sure I didn't let the cotton blouse material become stretched across my boobs for my nipples were continuously hard as I though about what I'd be doing in few minutes time.

As we drove away from the school I'd cuddle up to him as best a girl can with that big box in the centre. It was difficult getting close but I managed to get myself near enough so that as he drove with one hand on the wheel he'd slip the other between my thighs. I'd open my legs a little and keep my skirt down, well most of the time, and I'd revel in him fingering me, making me wet and have little climaxes. It was fun and exciting as we drove to one of two or three secluded "fuckspots" as we called them. 

"Undo your blouse Sammi."

"No, people will see."

"So, who gives a fuck, no one gives a shit nowadays? What if they do, though I doubt anyone will? Come on give me and them a flash of those lovely bare titties, but don't take your tie off."

My hands were shaking as I undid the buttons, but I managed it. Why I agreed, I have no idea. But I had a vague thought that it was rather grown up and mature to ride around in a BMW with your lover's fingers up your pussy and your tits out, so I did it. And do you know it turned me on, it so excited and aroused me that he hardly had to ask on subsequent evenings.

Not only was I now getting plenty of sex; on average six times a week, but I was also learning so fast. What he got me to do was adventurous, well to me it was. I mean, to be laid face down on the warm, but dusty hood of a BMW with your tits bare and your skirt bunched round your waist as you're fucked by a man fifteen years older than yourself, is quite adventurous isn't it? It's also quite adventurous, I thought, to be naked in a field, straddling that man and fucking him as if you've done that all the time.

After we finished the affair, looking back I realised that Rick wasn't that into oral sex. In the six weeks or so our affair lasted he never once went down on me and seemed to have no inclination for me to suck him. Actually both of those were quite fortuitous really for I'd never done either and had no idea whatsoever what to do. Nevertheless, from what I'd read and heard and even seen in films and on TV, it did seem a little odd, after all aren't all men just dying to lick a young girl's pussy?

I asked him several times about going to his flat but he always made some excuse usually revolving around the unpredictability of his flat mate. So I never made it there. I also asked about us spending a whole night together, perhaps in a hotel. Although we didn't make that he didn't reject the idea just saying.

"Yeah, yeah, great idea, let's work at."

It wasn't all back seat and in the woods stuff, though. No, twice he took me for a pizza and just as it got dark screwed me up against the wall of the car park. We also did it a few times in the changing rooms of the tennis club for he had a key and offered to lock up now and then. 

But the best time, though, was when mum and dad went to a wedding and stayed overnight. I told him that was going to happen and asked if he'd like to stay the night. Maybe I was a little pushy but with a rather nervous look on his face he agreed.

I'll continue telling you about Rick and how our affair progressed in Part Two of Getting Started. That should be posted on Lit very soon so keep an eye out for sammican1



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 02



I've started writing a series of accounts about my life in London; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a glamour model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Getting Started – Part Two.

Chapters 1 to 5 were previously published in A Sexual Bio of a Young Woman, Getting Started Part One

Chapter 5

I had no idea how uncomfortable a suspender belt was, how tight it had to be and how it pinched the little excess flesh on your hips. But as I stood in front of the wall to ceiling mirrored doors of the wardrobes in my bedroom I could see why women wore them and why men love them. 

The black lace complimented the slight tan I still had. It was like a slash of black sex round my middle. The two suspenders, that I spent ages altering, hung down my thighs like stark reminders of what was between them. There was that little patch of fleshy excitement between the black, silk, French knickers and the tops of the black fishnet stockings that the sussie belt was holding up so high.

I'd enjoyed myself in Agent Provocateur buying all this gear, although I did keep feeling that suddenly a sales assistant, or even worse, a policewoman would suddenly appear and tell me that schoolgirls shouldn't buy such stuff. And of course they shouldn't really should they? Not unless they're really a mature lover with an older boyfriend who's going to spend the whole night making love to them, as I was.

"Hi, thanks for coming," I said in the huskiest voice I could muster up as I opened the side door to Rick. 

I'd left the door to the three car garage open so he could drive straight in and not risk being seen by the neighbours as he parked his car and knocked at the front door. His entrance and my greeting were both I felt, full of romantic subterfuge; I liked that.

Mum and dad had left early after enquiring what I was doing.

"Studying," I immediately lied adding, when they both raised their eyebrows, for they knew I hardly did much of that now I was accepted by Bristol University, not that I'd done much before being accepted, "and going shopping."

"Good idea Samantha," mum said, "you'll need a new wardrobe when you get to Bristol."

I'd tried explaining several times that students nowadays only took their jeans and sweat shirts off to sleep or make love, and often they slept in them as well. But she seemed intent on kitting me out just as if I was going off to boarding school. That was a little tedious but it had its upside.

"Give her some money, David," she told my dad.

Smiling he handed me a hundred pounds.

"Don't be daft, she needs at least two," my mum chipped in quite fiercely. 

I enjoyed my Saturday morning spending the money allocated for uni clothes on clothes that could only be intended for one thing, getting laid in. I was surprised, though, that the slither of silk they called French knickers, the wispy lace sussie belt, the gossamer thin bra and the fishnet, seamed stockings cost more than dad had given me. Ah well, you have to make some financial sacrifices now and then for great sex, don't you?

I spent all afternoon getting ready and day dreaming. I do that a lot. I get an idea in my head or start pretending I'm someone else and I'm off on another planet. 

As I bathed and washed my hair, did my nails, pampered my body with stuff of mine and even more that was mum's, I imagined the six bedroom, mock Tudor pile we lived in was mine. That I was famous, a writer or stage actress, nothing as vulgar as a pop star, even though Kylie did keep popping into my mind; hasn't she got just the cutest bottom of all time?

I could hardly believe it when I saw the clock and that it was past six. Richard was due to arrive at seven and I was still naked. Laughing to myself I thought maybe I should say sod the sexy lingerie and open the door to him naked.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" he asked as I let him in the door, not naked but in one of my mum's long, black silk, peignoirs as she called them, sexy dressing gowns to most people.

"Just me darling," I cooed putting my arms round his neck and moulding my body to his.

We kissed, hard, deep and long. Lip squirmingly hard, tongue probingly deep and mouth wateringly long. 

His hands were everywhere. On my boobs and bum, up and down my legs, all over my back and in and out of my hair, that in an effort to look more grown up and vampish I'd put up; his hands made it fall down almost immediately. I was no slouch either, for I quickly had his shirt open and was running my fingers through the hairy mass and then down his back to squeeze the delicious cheeks of his gorgeous bum.

In my imagining about what would happen when, Rick came to the house I had thought we'd have a long, rather languid bout of lovemaking. I'd envisaged him taking ages drooling over my sexy lingerie and even longer drooling over me as we indulged in lengthy mutual foreplay. In my mind it was going to be gentle, slow, tender, considerate and very, very erotic.

In reality what happened was that he quickly fucked me against the kitchen wall, with me still in my AP seduction gear. He didn't even take his trousers off!

I didn't know what to say as I tidied myself up while he went to the loo.

"Sorry about that babe," he smiled seeing the look of disappointment on my face when he returned. "You just looked so fucking horny I couldn't stop myself, I needed you so badly," he went on taking me in his arms and kissing me.

He certainly had a way with words and knew the buttons to push to get to me. Quickly I was over my disappointment and once more was fancying him like hell.

"Let's go to bed," I suggested some time later after we'd been listening to music having a few drinks. 

"How thoroughly grown up and sophisticated," Id thought sitting around in my underwear sipping wine with my lover was. I was in heaven about it all.

"What a good idea, I thought you'd never ask," he smiled back.

I led him up the wide staircase, across the landing and into the extension over the big garage that was my "quarters" as, for some daft reason, we called the bedroom, sitting room and bathroom complex dad had had built a few years ago.

"Oh wow Sam," he said as I opened the bedroom door. 

I'd popped upstairs a bit earlier and had drawn the curtains and the large room with the floor to ceiling mirrored wardrobes down two sides was lit by over fifty candles of different sizes. Flickering and reflecting in the mirrors they gave the large room a wonderfully romantic look. I'd bought ones that had nice smells and the combination of the aroma and the light made for a highly erotic atmosphere. I'd tried thinking about how I'd get rid of the smell before my parents return the next evening, but gave up, it was just too complicated.

I walked over to the bed feeling, unusually for me when with Richard, in control. I undid the peignoir as I covered the short distance from the doorway and just as I went to get onto the bed I dropped it to the floor. Scrambling into the middle of the American, king sized bed I laid back propping myself up on my elbows, looked right into his eyes and said softly in what I hoped was a romantic and sexy tone.

"Why don't you come and make love to me Rick."

He smiled, in admiration for my grown up approach, I hoped but probably really just because I was offering him myself on a plate; after all wouldn't most thirty something men smile if an eighteen year old girl invited them to her bed to fuck her?

Our eyes remained locked as he slipped his shirt off. We stayed staring at each other as he undid his belt and slowly pushed his zip down. He was looking at my breasts and I was looking at his tight, grey KC boxers as his trousers joined his shirt on the floor. We smiled at each other as he slipped his socks off and then we just looked at each other, neither of us moving for a few moments. 

And then, in what was by far the most erotic sight I'd ever seen, he took off his pants. 

Slowly, tantalisingly so, he slid his hands inside the waistband, pushed that down a few inches then stopped, just gazing deeply into my eyes. I felt mesmerised. It was an amazing sight as he inched them down and down. I just couldn't help joining in. I could see by the look on his face that he approved as I reached behind me and undid the clasp of my bra. I let the cups stay in place, held there by the friction from my breasts, but let go of the strap. His boxers were now down so far that the sprouts of his mass of dark pubes were on show. I put my hands on my bra covered breasts and staring into his eyes, squeezed them. He slid the boxers further down turning slightly to one side so that I saw his bare cheeks and the deep crevice between. I moved my hands away from my boobs taking the bra with them. He turned back and slid his pants down to mid thigh letting his awesome erection leap out from the cover of his boxers. I pinched my nipples, he stroked his cock. We stayed like that for a moment or two and then, after dropping his boxers on the floor he walked towards the bed.

As I watched him and caressed my breasts so I couldn't help thinking it looked as though his cock was leading him to the bed. With each step it jiggled and bobbled and looked to me to gain in length and girth the closer he came to me. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I hadn't so far in the affair had that much chance to simply look at Richard's cock and now I could I was surprised how beautiful it was, a term I don't think I'd ever used before to describe a cock. He wasn't circumcised so it had that almost pointed end and shape similar to a space ship that I think is so much more elegant than the stubbiness so often found on circumcised dicks. So often that is on the net, not from my experience for at that time I'd only seen his, Kelvin's and one other boy's equipment, though I had touched one more, but that was in the dark and inside the boy's trousers, so I couldn't count that as a sighting. It looked massive to me as he put one knee on the bed. It was thicker than I'd thought and the tip reached right to his naval so I guess it must have been seven inches at least.

I turned onto my side as Rick lay beside me. And then for the first time I was in his arms with both of us naked above the waist. My nipples and breasts felt every bit as good as I'd hoped they would against his hairy chest. His cock felt even better than I'd thought it would pressed against the hardness of my mound and softness of my tummy and the sensation my hands received from squeezing and stroking his tight ass surpassed my wildest dreams.

Thus time we did make love. This time it was more than a fuck, well I thought it was. This time everything was unhurried, languid, tender, caring, considerate and so fucking horny that he made me cum three times before his climax. Sex in a bed, as opposed to car or field, I decided, had a lot going for it.

We stayed in bed for a couple of hours lying in each others arms, I may even have dozed off a couple of times. It was so wonderfully romantic, yet it still wasn't dark outside and we had the entire night before us.

"Are you hungry," I asked him around eight or so.

"Bloody starving, sex always gives me an appetite."

Feeling all girly and partnerish I suggested I cook some scrambled egg and have that with smoked salmon, I'd bought that day, and a bottle of dad's champagne, that I was pretty sure he wouldn't miss, he had loads in the garage.

"You stay hear and I'll bring it up and serve it to you in bed. Ok?"

"Mmmmmm, great," He said, smiling and pecking me on my cheek as he cupped my breast in his hand.

"Make sure you don't burn these when you're doing your topless cooking, I've got good plans for them later."

I skipped out of bed and started across the bedroom naked apart from the suspender belt and the fishnets.

"Oh I see it's bottomless cooking as well then, you should be on Ready, Steady Cook, that'd put the ratings up."

Laughing, I turned and curtsied to him. "You're so kind."

It really was lovely being in my home with him. The atmosphere was warm and highly receptive to the romantic situation that was emerging between us. I felt then that maybe there was more than just sex between us; maybe I was more than just a young chick he was using for sexual kicks; maybe I did mean something to him?

"Alright if I have a shower Sam," he called out as I left the room.

"Of course, help yourself to the towels there's pile in the cupboard in my bathroom."

Now and again I'd wandered round the house naked, never though undressed like that because I'd just had sex, usually it was because I was about to have sex, with myself that is. I remembered a day some time ago when I was home alone and feeling extraordinarily randy. For some crazy reason I decided to try to make myself cum in as many rooms in the house as I could. I managed it in the lounge, dining room, kitchen and three bedrooms, but the hall and TV room beat me. Still six cums in a couple of hours was quite good, although nowhere near the class record claimed by Rebecca Rose of twelve in three hours; none of us believed her really.

I'd never, though, cooked naked or prepared food dressed as I was. It was odd, but strangely titillating, to see myself in mirrors or to watch my bare tits wobbling a bit as I reached for the saucepans and glasses. It was even odder when I opened the huge fridge and rummaged around getting the eggs, milk and butter for the blast of cold air immediately hardened my nipples. Smiling I gave them a little pinch before starting to work.

His words made me jump, for in all honesty I'd been so wrapped up getting ready to start the cooking and being almost naked that my mind had again gone on one of my fantasy trips. This time I was a TV star that had a programme, The Naked Cook!

"Can't have you getting cold can we?" I heard him say as I was turning round towards him. I saw that he was holding something but just what it was didn't register at first. What caught my eye immediately was his wet hair and the fluffy white towel wrapped round his waist. He looked awesomely gorgeous and so terribly sexy I could have cum on the spot. Then he held towards me what was in his hands. My school blazer.

"What?" I said, genuinely surprised.

"Put it on Sam, it'll keep you warm."

"Richard, it isn't cold, it's June."

"Well if it isn't cold?" he asked putting his hand out, "why are these so fucking hard?" he went on pinching one of my nipples, just a little too hard.

"Ow," I cried, pulling away.

"Who you been fantasising about? Whose been fucking you in your mind," he asked being aware, because I'd told him, about my penchant for mind fucks.

I smiled at him, although the grim, almost threatening, tone of his voice had scared me a bit.

"I've just been standing in front of that bloody great fridge looking for the food, that's what's made them all perky." I didn't add that actually just as he came in I was being shagged on late night television by a big, black guy wearing a chef's hat and nothing else.

"Well whatever," he went on holding the blazer up clearly serious about me wearing it. I wondered for a moment how he'd found it as it had been in one of wardrobes, but I let that go not wanting to think about things that might upset the wonderful time I was having. I turned and slid my arms into the red and cream striped school girl's blazer.

"Fucking hell Sam, that's fantastic, you look amazing, come here." He got hold of me and led me into the hallway where there was a long mirror that he stood me in from of. I stared ay myself. Not being vein or arrogant I had to agree that it was quite a picture, quite a horny picture really. My blonde hair tumbling down round my shoulders, the blazer, one button done up so that the lapels covered some of my breasts but left a goodly expanse of flesh and, when I moved suddenly, tantalising glimpses of the pinkness of my areola bare and open to others gazes. The blazer was long enough to cover my most womanly of places and to fudge whether I was wearing panties or not and it blended erotically with the black fishnet of my stockings.

I watched transfixed at the image he'd created for it did look, I thought, amazingly sexy. Probably the juxtaposition, I mused, kidding myself I knew what I was talking about, of the sophisticated and overt eroticism of the black fishnets and my near nudity with the youthfulness of my face and clear schoolgirlishness of the blazer.

I stare at the mirror as I saw his hands reach round my throat with what seemed like a rope. I was scared for a moment, but then I saw it was school tie. Relieved, I suppose I watched as he tied the knot and then carefully tucked the tie inside the blazer right between my two small tits.

His hands on my hips Rick said into my ear in a rather husky voice. 

"A real, fucking Lolita aren't you? If I didn't know you were over eighteen and totally legal I'd think you were such tantalising jail bait."

Cameras on phones were just becoming popular, but were still expensive, so I, along with most of my friends didn't have one. Rick did though.

"Stand right there and stand still," he told me.

It was absolutely amazing and such a time of discovery when, for the next half hour or, so he took pictures of me. 

Nervous at first as he snapped away at me in the blazer showing my legs and flashes of my boobs, I gradually loosened up. I surprised myself at how easy I found it to relax and be myself in front of the camera. But what was more surprising to me was how I felt. I loved it. I loved the camera intruding on my every womanly place and I loved the way it seemed to bring the sexiness out in me.

I needed almost no encouragement after the first five minutes or so. No encouragement to firstly slide the blazer down so I more and more revealed my breasts; no encouragement to take it off completely and flash my boobs, cup them hold them and squeeze them as he recorded all those movements on his camera. 

Was it the wine or was it just me? Or was it a combination of both that made it seem easy for me to lay on the floor one hand on my breast, the other between my legs as he stood across my body the camera pointing right at me? I didn't know then just what it was that made me pose willingly for him however he asked me. Kneeling so he could snap my bare bum framed by the suspenders from behind from a load of angles; standing legs open, me cupping my pussy; on the floor legs open knees raised hands behind me so my naked, wet and open pussy was filmed. I can't really imagine there were many poses we missed and he ended up taking shots of my face as I made myself cum.

Whilst posing was amazing, later seeing myself in those poses, when Rick transferred the photos to my PC, well that really was something else. I couldn't believe at first that the huge close ups of a nipple, breast, bum or pussy were me and more significantly, I couldn't believe at all the reaction they had on me. 




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 02



I'd never been one to get that much titillation from looking at pictures of men, or women come to that, but then we girls don't do we, we're not as visual as men? So to find myself becoming aroused as Rick and I stared at my images on the screen felt quite weird and was certainly then, and still is now, well beyond my understanding.

I showered after the filming, redid my make-up and applied some more Polo perfume. I was ready for more love and sex and I wanted Rick to see that. I came out from the bathroom into the bedroom wrapped in a towel. He was lying on my bed watching football on the TV, it was the European Cup or something and England was playing, he looked up.

"Hi babe, you look good."

"You don't look so bad yourself," I retorted, now having the confidence to leer at his body wrapped in the towel.

It was just getting dark so it must have been around ten. He'd been with me for almost three hours and we'd had sex twice, although I'd already cum more times in an evening than I'd ever done before. I was wondering when he would be ready again, or indeed, whether he would, for he had been making no advances, even when he photographed me and we looked at them on the PC.

At last we had the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. It was more a supper than a dinner, but it was still wonderfully romantic and erotic sitting at the glass topped kitchen table across from my lover. We were both just dressed in the towels and inevitably, or at times somewhat purposefully on my part, the towel tended to slip a bit. I saw his gaze on my breasts when I showed a little too much and noted with pleasure his look through the glass at my crossed legs with the hem of the towel right up round my crotch. I guessed that maybe from his angle he'd be able to see a flash or two of my tawny, neatly trimmed pubic hairs.

We didn't talk that much and I was starting to wonder whether we'd run out of topics to talk about. After all we only really had only tennis and sex in common, didn't we? And you can only say so much about either of them.

We finished the meal and had another glass of wine; the champagne was left uncorked in the fridge. I was now a little squiffy, for I'd had several glasses of wine on an empty stomach; I wasn't then that used to booze and I got tipsy quite quickly. That could, I suppose, have some downsides, but it had a number of massive upside; it made me lose my inhibitions, gave me enormous confidence and it made me feel enormously horny.

My chin in my hands and my elbows on the table I was very aware that the towel had slipped; I could feel that; I could feel the air on parts of my breasts it hadn't been on earlier; I knew that most of the swell on the top of the two mounds was bare and I was pretty certain that on both sides some pink of my nipples was showing. I also knew that where my legs were crossed the towel had fallen open and had ridden right up my legs and yes, indeed, I was flashing those neatly trimmed, tawny coloured pubes. I felt great.

I stared at him and he stared back. I smiled and he smiled. I stood up and he stayed seated. I walked round the table slowly and he watched me. I stood before him, about three feet away, and he just continued staring. He was slightly slouched in the chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked absofuckinglutely drop dead gorgeous I thought, as I ogled his hairy, full chest, his flat six pack stomach and his long, lean, muscular legs.

I slowly lifted my hands up to where the towel circled my body. I took the end that was folded inside the other in my fingers. And as I slowly pulled that away from the other, I looked right into his eyes and said, huskily.

"Richard, I'm going to fuck you right now."

Wow did that make me feel so grown up and mature. That's what proper lovers say and act I thought feeling ready to do just about anything.

Naked, I leaned forward and took hold of the towel around his waist. I slowly unravelled it and looked down at his manhood which, though certainly not erect, was not totally soft either. I felt brave and confident as I knelt between his legs holding his dick in my hand. 

I was in totally unchartered territory. I was doing something I'd never done before and acting in a way that, surprisingly, felt absolutely natural, but with which I had no experience. It seemed the right thing to do, the grown up, mature and sophisticated lover's act, a natural extension to what we'd done so far and a logical pushing out the boundaries of the sex-play between us. Yes, I was planning to suck my lover's cock. To lick it and fellate suck it as I'd read about so often in books. To let Rick shoot all over my face and even, if he wanted to cum in my mouth, as I'd seen in porn films on the net. The plan didn't go as far as to whether I'd swallow or not, I thought I'd play that by ear when the cum was actually in my mouth.

Holding, what I was pleased to see and feel was his hardening penis I brought it slowly towards my head. I bent further forward. I opened my mouth, I put my tongue out and I took a very deep breath. Although so aroused and excited I was also apprehensive and a little frightened. What would it feel like when it was in my mouth? What would the taste be like? Would I gag or choke? How much of it would I be able to get in? Would I be able to do it properly, as he was used to, as his older lovers did it to him?

Lifting the continuously hardening cock I was about to slide it into my mouth when suddenly he got up pushing me away.

"No, don't, don't do that," he said sharply moving away from me and pulling his towel around him.

"Why Rick, why? What's the matter?"

"I don't like that. I don't like doing it or having it done to me."

I was puzzled and amazed. True I'd wondered several times why he hadn't tried to give me oral or asked me to suck him. My reading had told me without any doubt whatsoever that men wanted that. Some wanted a girl to suck them more than they wanted to fuck her, I'd read and most wanted to taste the sweet juices of his lover, especially when she was young and as presumably fresh as my eighteen years would make me. But he'd been giving me so much "straight" sex and was teaching me so much about having my breasts loved, both by him and by me, being fingered to fulfilment and having an almost full orgasm for sometimes the best part of an hour, that when I was with him the fact that we had no oral sex on our genitals slipped my mind. After all that was continually exploding with climatic sensations which left little room for rational thought as well. 

When alone, though I did think about it. I thought about that and his obsession, almost, with my school uniform. I thought about why he was still single at thirty four and why he hung out with a group of male tennis coaches all of whom were in their early and mid twenties and I thought about the woman, the "old flame," he brought to the club sometimes. I also pondered on why someone of his age and apparent sexual maturity bothered with an experienced kid like me. I thought about all those things but I had no answers. To be truthful I didn't actually try too hard to find them for I was content with having him do what he did to me and sod the other circumstances.

But this shook me. I'd never for one moment thought a man would turn that down, after all how often is it that a naked eighteen year old chick asks to suck your cock? But he had. No doubt about that and I had no idea why other than what he'd just muttered. Was it something reasonably common or was it very rare? I didn't know and it wasn't something that the mags. or papers I read told us much about. I made a mental note to type "aversion to oral sex" into Google when he'd gone. Was it me, I wondered? Perhaps I put him off or did he truly have some odd aversion to what many people thought was the best aspect of sexual foreplay.

As I stood there not knowing whether to cover myself up or stay naked I managed to mutter.

"I'm sorry Rick, I'm very sorry."

He looked for a moment as if he was going to cry, but then he came over to me and took me in his arms.

"No you don't need to be sorry Sam; it's just a foible of mine."

"How's that?" I asked my voice muffled as it was pressed against his hairy chest.

"I just feel that I sort of violate you if we do that," he told me. 

I had no comprehension of what he meant but said nothing hoping he'd continue.

"You see Sam," he went on, his fingers running slowly up and down my bare back and over the cheeks of my equally bare bum as I felt stirrings inside his towel, "I look at you differently to most men."

"Really?" I replied loving the feelings from his hands and his evidently growing dick. "How do you look at me then?"

"As a young girl, not a woman. I love your innocence and immaturity."

"Oh fuck," I thought to myself, "and there's been me trying to pretend I'm all grown up and experienced."

"I see," I told him completely untruthfully, for I didn't at all see.

"It's the, oh I don't know, maybe purity perhaps, that turns me on Sam. The freshness of your youth, the fact that you aren't overused. And because of that I don't want you to do things like that, or have you do them to me, it sort of sullies or demeans you."

As he was saying that his fingernails were digging into my bum hurting me and, I was sure, making marks on my skin. His erection was also rising quickly and he was pressing that deep into the softness of my tummy. 

"Do you understand?" he was asking as he started shoving his now fully extended and wonderfully hard erection up and down my tummy and over and over my pubic mound.

Taking the line of least resistance just before his mouth closed over mine and my arms went round his neck, I whimpered.

"Yes Richard, yes of course I do."

I never got to fuck him as I intended, though, for with hardly any further ado he fucked me.

He turned me round pulling the towel away from his body as he did. I saw his cock and wanted to grip it for it looked magnificent and so desirable. God how far had I come in these few short weeks I pondered as he pushed my hands away? He struggled both of us towards the glass topped, ten setting kitchen table. Visions of Kim Basinger in Nine and a Half Weeks or was it The Postman Knocks Twice, came to mind as he bent me over it?

He pushed my body forward until it was resting on the table, my breasts and nipples squashed almost flat. It was bloody cold, but the excitement of this, what was to me, fairly extreme sex easily overcame that.

"Open your legs for me Sammi?" he asked his knee going between mine and showing me what to do. 

He had one hand in the middle of my back holding me down, as if I was going to struggle? The other was holding his cock as he bent his knees to bring that down to the level of my pussy that in my spread-legged position was wide open, just waiting to be filled.

I felt a pressure on my pussy lips, a moments fumbling, a second or two of preparation. Then, the most wondrous of sensations as he slithered his entire length slowly and purposefully all the way up my pussy. I felt my lips open then close around their visitor, gripping its hard, warm, throbbing length in the way that only a young girl's vagina can. 

He stayed like that for quite some time. It was amazing. I felt so full, bloated, if that's a word that can be applied to a girl having a cock filling her pussy to overflowing. I wiggled myself a little and got absolutely sensational feelings all over my tummy and, funnily, my bottom as well. I swear that I could have had a full orgasm without him moving at all.

But move, of course he did. Quite rightly, well he had to didn't he, after all that's what a fuck is, isn't it, a man shoving his cock up and down inside a girl's cunt? 

He'd moved his hand from restraining me and was now holding both my hips, tightly, as he started to so marvellously drive his cock up and down and in and out of me. My body was exploding with sensations. I had extreme feelings everywhere and was staring to cum. But that didn't matter for what Rick had taught me was that I could have multiple orgasms with hardly a gap between them, so that in effect I had one continuous climax. And that's exactly what I did for, what I found out later was, over fifteen minutes of him shagging me. At the time it didn't occur to me and it was only afterwards that I wondered whether he had fantastic control or whether he'd been struggling to cum

At last, after what seemed the most marvellous period of endless sexual ecstasy he started to climax.

"Yes, yes, fucking hell yes Sam, I'm cumming."

"Yes Rick, yes cum for me," I moaned back.

As his fingers dug harder and harder into the flesh on my hips, pulling me more firmly against him, I felt him first take those faster, deeper thrusts a man uses when he feels that he's nearly ready to cum, the surges needed to launch his sperm I suppose. Then, when that was ready to explode, I felt him slow down, go even deeper and almost hold himself as far in me as he could as it made its journey up the tubes inside that wonderful cylinder of throbbing flesh. 

That all sounds very calm and collected doesn't it? But as I was shagged properly from behind for the first time it was far from that. 

Without his restraining hand I had, several times raised myself so that I was almost standing straight. That, not only seemed to increase the intensity of the sensations in my pussy, but also gave him, and me, access to my tits and nipples, that we both squeezed and rubbed and pinched. It also meant that he could reach my clit and that gave me yet another first. A fuck from behind, with fingers on my most sensitive place at the same time. God I was learning so much so quickly wasn't I?

He pulled my head round by my hair, hurting me a little, but I was too far gone for that to really register. We kissed, or slurped at each others mouths really for the angles and his thrusts made proper kiss contact difficult, but so what, his tongue in my mouth and my lips on his chin were plenty enough, given what was going on elsewhere.

At last though it had to end. He was moaning and grunting and I was sighing, sobbing and groaning. Our bodies were shuddering with sensations and we were squirming against the other to gain every last bit of feeling and sexual pleasure from this momentous fuck.

Until then I was a little dubious when I read that some women felt a man's sperm inside them. Dubious I suppose because the times men had shot their load into me it was captured by the condom. 

It was then, as Rick exploded that I did feel his sperm smash around inside me, and I realised that he hadn't worn a condom.

I'll continue in the next episode when I go off to university, resolve the situation with Richard, find more sexual pleasures and learn lots more about myself and my penchant for older men. 

So keep a watch out for more of Sammi Cannock's sexual bio.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 03



I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

Keep checking the Lit site for more

Luv 

Sammi

*

Chapter 1

There were only three things I enjoyed at university. The drama club, Mr Deekin and Stephanie Gordon's tits; actually that's four isn't it, if you include both of her tits, which I most certainly did? 

So I didn't last. I made it through the first year and a little way into the second, but that was it. I left. Mum and dad went absofuckinglutely ballistic. They tried to persuade me to go back, threatened to ground me, cut off my allowance, send me to Coventry and also, probably, looked into the possibility of having me flogged or hung drawn and quartered, fortunately that sort of sport has declined in London in recent years. I didn't care, well I did care for I badly needed the allowance, but there was no way I could go back.

It was the childishness of my fellow students and the way we were still really treated as kids that mainly got to me. I felt so much older than them all, other than Steph. I related much easier to the lecturers and even their wives in social situation than I did my fellow students, I hated having to continue studying and the typical night out, pints of beer in a grotty pub did little for me. So I was miserable, demotivated and unhappy. 

I tried to suffer it for a while but during the holidays at the end of the first year I tested the water with my parents.

"Thinking of leaving, what the hell you talking about," my dad almost screamed looking angrier than I'd ever seen him. Angrier that is other than during the first week of my hols when they came home early and found me in, shall we call it, a compromising position? Well I guess lying on a hammock in the garden, topless with the zip of my shorts undone in the arms of a naked aroused boy is compromising isn't it? So when I made my announcement I was already in everybody's bad books, especially mum's for I think she quite fancied the guy. After all the way she glanced (leered??) at him as he pulled his shorts and tee on was far from the disapproving look of a parent!

"You can't just bloodywell leave. It's bloody university not a tennis club, you know."

Mum joined in along the same lines but with more emphasis on what her golf and bridge club friends would think. I tried with her alone knowing that if she wanted to she could persuade dad to do anything; probably by rationing her favours with him, I always thought.

She was, well is, an amazingly attractive woman. She's only nineteen years older than me, so now and then we're taken for sisters, although as that's usually by waiters or men such as golf or tennis coaches or pool attendants when we're on holiday, I have my suspicions that they're may be a degree of flattery involved. And I'm by no means certain that the flattery doesn't sometimes work.

Anyway, whether their flattery works on them getting into her knickers or not, mine didn't work on persuading her to try to get at dad.

"I'm afraid he's totally made his mind up. You know how he so much wants you to have the education he didn't, there's no way he'll agree."

So that effectively ended that little plan. So, in late September there was I bowling down the M4 in my new MINI Cooper, going back to studying English, attending my sanity check, the drama club, seeing what would happen with Mr Deekins and learning more about Stephanie's tits.

Chapter 2

We have some unfinished business don't we? Remember I was bent over the kitchen table being shagged from behind by Richard, or dirty Dicky as I now think of him? And remember also that he'd just ejaculated into me, shot his sperm into me and not one of those nice little rubber collection bags. Yes when we last chatted I'd just been fucked, unprotected.

I was as worried as hell. Not pregnancy for I was, of course, on the pill, but from the disease angle. I was petrified of catching something whether it be VD., herpes or the big one. 

As he slipped out of me and we both realised what we'd done, he was immediately full of remorse. He cuddled me, apologised profusely and said how sorry he was. As scared as I was I couldn't completely blame him could I? After all a girl has to take some responsibility doesn't she? I mean we claim that we have the right to change our implied yes to a categorical no even when a man's buried deep inside us. If that's the case then we should be aware enough to remind our fellow that he's riding bareback shouldn't we? Yeah, right! You show me a red-blooded woman who can change her mind with six inches or so of hard man inside her or can think to say, "hey you've forgotten the johnny" and I'll show you a liar or an ice maiden, more likely both!

I washed very carefully trying to clean myself, even though I knew full well that would be to no avail if he was affected with anything. I managed to put it out of my mind, though and after a bath I slipped into a clean pair of tight, white CK boxers and a loose tee that I sometimes wear as my PJs. 

In spite of the unfortunate incident and the rather surprising, I thought at the time even though subsequent events have shown Rick not to be unusual, lack of stamina on his part, I was looking forward to sleeping with him. I'd never yet slept with a man; in fact earlier this evening was the first time I'd actually been in a bed with one! The idea of being held and cuddled, of pressing my breasts against his back, of feeling his body against mine was so romantic as well as hugely sexy that I so wanted that to happen. The fact that almost certainly we wouldn't have sex before going off to sleep was ok by me, for the potential thrill of being woken up by an erection being pressed against my bottom was more than ample compensation.

"What's happened?" I stammered as I walked into the kitchen. "Why are you dressed?"

"Sorry babe, something's come up, I have to go?"

"Go? Go where? Where do you have to go?" I, almost, whined with disappointment.

"There's a problem at the flat, my flatmate just called."

I was perplexed. I was confused and becoming angry for I just couldn't comprehend how there could be a problem at the flat that would make him have to leave. I asked him about the problem and what it was, but he was evasive. I asked him when his flatmate had called and he said a few moments ago. That made me suspicious for I was sure I would have heard the phone.

I'd obviously had suspicions about Rick. I couldn't completely explain what mine were but inevitably when a girl is never taken home by a man there's some form of problem, isn't there? Well it stands to reason, doesn't it? Maybe not the kind of girl to take home to mother? Although mothers didn't actually feature in my suspicions of him, funnily enough!

"So you're just going, are you?"

"I'm afraid I have to?"

"Will you be back? I mean it's only twelve thirty," I asked feeling a little foolish standing there in what I thought was my sexy night gear almost pleading with him.

"No, it'll be too late, I'll call you tomorrow."

A little evil streak came into me.

"No tell you what let me call you when you get home."

"Ok," he answered just before I added.

"On your house phone." I didn't have that number and had never called him there. Hmmm why?

"No call on the mobile."

"No I'd prefer the landline Rick."

"Why?"

"Why not?" I retorted, "unless you've something to hide."

"What could I have to hide?" he asked.

"I've got no idea," even though I was more and more developing an idea.

"Well there's nothing to hide."

"Ok so what's the number?" I asked flipping my phone open. He said nothing.

"Rick? Come on I'll call it now, chat to your flatmate," I told him mischievously.

"Fuck you," were the last words I ever heard him speak as he walked out on me.

Of course the woman he sometimes brought to the tennis club wasn't an old flame. Of course he wasn't doing her a favour and of course he was living with her. Making wedding plans I subsequently learned.

Chapter 3

I couldn't understand it. I had no comprehension. I just couldn't see why the other girls I hung out with during that first awful year thought a man of just over forty was ancient. 

"Far too old," one said "makes my skin crawl," said another, "can't see how any girl of our age could want a man old enough to be their dad," chimed in yet another. They all seemed to agree that older men that went with girls of our age must be some sort of perv and that the younger girls that went with them were, at the least, odd.

Sitting sprawled around in the flat I was renting with six or seven other female students I said nothing. I said nothing for even as they all talked about David Deekins I was almost wetting my pants for him.

He was a lecturer, in History actually, and one of the four or five who gave their time and services to the university drama club. That had become the only place in the entire uni where I felt comfortable and where I enjoyed myself; I hadn't got to know Steph very well at that time so the other place where I felt the same, in her arms, hadn't yet been experienced.

As we lay around drinking beer and smoking, Marlboros not dope, well mainly, so I'd said completely innocently.

"That David Deekin's really dreamy isn't he?"

To say the least no one agreed so I kept quiet. See the juvenile attitudes I had to contend with?

I'd somehow, probably because I had more time than anyone else for I hadn't bothered to start studying yet, given that I thought I wouldn't be returning, been elected the 2nd Year's Drama Club Representative, a bit like being a school prefect I suppose, but without the silly blazer that dirty Dicky loved so much. All that meant was that I represented the 2nd year on the uni's Drama Club Council for university wide projects and acted as the gofer on events put on by the 2nd year. Largely that meant getting agreement on the plays we would produce at Christmas and end of the year and then liaising with the lecturer who would vet what we proposed and then help us produce it. And would you believe who I had to liaise with? You got it.

"You really want to do What the Butler Saw?"

"Yes we do?"

"Hmmm," David mused as I sat across his kitchen table from him almost quivering with excitement at being alone with him. "You're aware of its reputation?" he asked referring to the furore that greeted its staging in the late sixties when it was booed by some audiences and condemned by many critics as being obscene.

"Of course," I beamed, looking as coquettish as I could before adding softly in what I thought was a you can have me voice. "That's why we want to do it."

"What to shock?" He asked not seeming to realise my availability.

I explained that it was a lot more than to shock and with the seriousness that university applies to such topics we had an hour so discussion on the merits of Joe Orton's rather risqué play.

"Well I'll put it to the council, as I have to but I can't see they'll turn it down so I guess you can carry on with the casting and all the other arrangements."

"Great, thank you er," I paused before saying, "David," as I stared rather intently at him. 

He held my gaze. He held it for just that second or two longer than was necessary. That very brief time that tells a girl so much; those moments when a woman feels that she knows what's going through the man's mind. 

Although, I'd only got one more notch on my gun handle of sexual conquests during that first year at uni I felt so much more a woman than I had when I arrived. Why? I'll tell you that soon, but I've given some clues already. Anyway with my new-found worldlywisewomanliness I could tell. I knew now what men were after and how they went about getting it and so often that began with holding a girl's gaze for just that few seconds longer. And that's exactly what DD was doing right now. He was undressing me and thinking, "would she?" He was imagining having me in his bed and considering, "should I try?" He was fantasising about us having sex and conjecturing, "what if I try and she turns me down?"

As he was doing that and I was clearing up my papers I was trying to silently say. "Yes." Trying to convey to him that my answer to whatever he wanted from me was affirmative. Yes to can I see you, yes to can we go out and yes to can I kiss you, caress you, undress you and take you to bed. And of course yes to can I fuck you. 

But somehow ten minutes later I was outside his house, the door shut behind me with none of those questions asked or answers given.

Most of the girls I was friendly with, and some of the guys come to that, were amazed at how close to us the lecturers and even the professors were. We'd all heard stories of affairs, quickies and one-night stands between students and the teaching staff, mainly female students but some men with female lecturers.. Actually come to that there were stories of male students with male lecturers and girls with women who were on the uni staff. But then so what? That's life and in fact it was one of the few parts of college life that actually appealed to me, for that aspect did treat as adults.

So that gave me some assurance that my fancying of Mr Deekins wouldn't necessarily end up as a finger job, alone in my bed.

He was married, but as his wife had some high powered job in the Civil Service she lived in London and he went there most weekends, not all, though, I noticed, encouragingly.

"So you're not playing the female lead then, Geraldine something isn't it?" he asked as I leaned forward in the rather low cut top to pick up the tea he'd made me. I wasn't wearing a bra.

"Yes Barclay, the doctor's wife, I'm playing the secretary, Lisa Emery."

"Why's that?"

I looked at him and noted that as I did he turned his head away from where he'd obviously been staring at my chest. I smiled.

"Well you've read Joe's notes to the script haven't you?" I asked again leaning forward a little.

"Yes, yes of course I have," he replied, again looking away, out of the window.

"Then you'll know, won't you, that I don't quite have the build for that part?" I sat up straight pushing my breasts out and smiling as he laughed.

"Oh yes I see what you mean, she's supposed to be quite large in that area isn't she?"

I paused. I thought a moment. I actually considered taking my top off and making some smart ass remark, but I didn't.

"Yes, not like my tiny ones," I said as a compromise.

David seemed to somewhat blurt out his reply as he stared at my chest. 

"Well they're not that tiny Sam."

"No I suppose not," I replied plucking up my courage and actually crossing my fingers as I, probably croaked, so nervous was I? "Some men prefer smaller don't they?

"Yes, yes they do."

I didn't have the nerve to say what I was thinking and that was to ask what he preferred. That, I felt would have been too much, too soon.

He went on. "So who's playing the wife?

"Stephanie Gordon," I told him.

Smiling he responded, "oh well yes that makes sense."

I smiled back as I stared right at him, with my vampish look on my face.

"Well she has got the right equipment hasn't she........." I asked, pausing before adding softly, "David?"

He looked to be getting wonderfully flustered as this female student verbally flirted and duelled with him.

"Er yes, yes, she has got, er um, er," he stumbled.

"Big tits," I blurted out.

"Well exactly."

On something of a roll I went on. "Do you like that David?"

"What?" he said sharply.

"Big tits?"

"I don't mind either?"

"What big or small?"

"Yes."

"Well you'll have the best of all worlds in the nude scenes won't you then?"

"Are you actually going to be naked in them?"

"Yes of course that's how the play was written wasn't it?"

"Yes but the scenes are in bed so there's hardly any bare flesh shown."

"But Joe's notes say that's what he wanted and the scenes were censored weren't they?

"Yes they were, remember the play was first produced not long after the outcry about Lady Chatterly's lover; things were so much different then."

I was very aware of the situation then and how society's views had changed. I was also aware of what Joe Orton had wanted from the play, for I'd studied him at some length during my A levels.

"It's rumoured you know that he wanted the wife and the secretary to have a full on lesbian scene," I told him.

"Yes I've heard that and it is strongly implied in the script."

"Well we're going to do that?"

"No," he, almost, gasped.

"Well if Brookside, Emmerdale and Eastenders can have girl on girl kisses, we're sure Bristol can, can't we?"

"I suppose so, but maybe I should check first."

"You mean the university might censor it?"

"No not censor."

"Well what then?"

We discussed it for a while and he agreed that he wouldn't mention it but reserved the right to ask for changes if he felt it was out of character for the play.

I crossed my legs knowing full well that the short denim skirt would shoot up my thighs and I lit a ciggie as I mulled over what to say next. Sitting there with him in the kitchen of his house talking about sex had got to me, as I hoped and felt it would have done to him as well. Lifting my head and blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling caused my top to be stretched across my breasts and as I lowered my face I caught him again looking at my tits. "Hmmm, it has got to him," I thought, feeling pleased, but still unsure how to proceed, well after all I'd never really tried to pull a guy before had I? But I knew that it had to be down to me to, at least, show him a very green light. It was just too risky for a member of the university to chance it.

"Well David," I started hesitantly, "you could always have a preview of any of the scenes that you have a concern over. Shall we run through the script and decide them now?"

"How do you mean a preview?"

"A private showing, I suppose."

"What just us and Stephanie?"

"Yes, where she's in the scenes, but where she isn't it'll just have to be me, I suppose."

I moved round the table and sat next to him the one copy of the fairly dog-eared script in front of us. My leg was almost touching his and our shoulders brushed against the other several times as I turned over the pages.

"I guess this is the first scene you might need to preview," I told him opening the script. 

His eyes dropped to the script and I watched him read.

Her hands slid the panties down her legs and she stood before the mirror naked. Her hands went to her small breasts and cupped them as she stared at her image in the mirror.

"I'd forgotten that," he said croakily.

"I hadn't," I replied looking at him, our arms touching our faces close. I took the bull by the horns. "Would you like a preview of that scene David?"




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 03



He simply stared at me for a while. And then magically, just as it happens in the movies, our heads moved towards the other and we were kissing. As we broke for air I heard his magical reply.

"Yes Sammi, I rather think that I would like a preview."

And that's how my affair with Mr Deekins, a, nearly, forty year old lecturer began.

Chapter 4.

Ok so let's get onto Steph's tits shall we? Mmmmmmm what a proposal? 

We met through the drama club. We didn't see each other much at college, because she was studying economics and I was doing English, and nair the twain shall meet on those subjects; so it was only at rehearsals or club discussions that we got together.  

We hit it off immediately. We shared the same sort of humour, had similar likes and dislikes, were both spoiled, rich bitches and each of us was sexually adventurous, she even liked older men!

Were we flirting with each other? Did we come onto each other? Was each of us exploring our sexuality? Questions I often asked myself later, but didn't even consider at the time it was all happening. How did it start? How did we start? How did Steph and I both take that same step at the same time? That step that took us both outside the conventions on sexuality. Bloody easily actually.

Lesbianism was quite a fad at the time. Remember this was 2004. Madonna had kissed Brittany on stage, girls were "coming out", there were les scenes in lots of films and it was nowhere near as frowned upon then as it had been earlier and maybe was later as well. And of course the example set by rock and film stars trickled down to the impressionable masses of fans. It was then as good as impossible to go to a club, certainly in London, and not see girls dancing together very intimately, holding hands, cuddling and even snogging; what they did after the club is for the imagination to fantasise about. And of course university students are always at the forefront of such fads and fashions, particularly if they are sexually driven. So if clubs and society in general were accepting women being together then university life was positively embracing it, almost insisting on it. 

Of course with most of us, it wasn't real lesbianism. Not many of us cut our hair short, wore dungarees and let the hair grow under our arms. Few of us developed penis aversions and hardly any of us became out and out man haters. No, we were sexual pioneers, free thinkers erotic explorers, or so we thought. So we were examples of what the media termed lipstick lesbians, basically good lookers that admired the beauty of other women and wanted to experiment.

Having said all that it was still pretty frightening admitting to it and even more so doing something about it. It wasn't for everyone, not all girls could accept the idea. Maybe there's some genetic thing that makes it easier and more palatable for some females than for others; if so then I had, and have still got, that genetic thing in quite a big way.

I'd first noticed it at school. I found other girls more attractive than probably i should. I remember when I was in the lower sixth having the most luridly sexual dreams about girls in the upper sixth, older, more experienced and grown up girls. I also remember one of them coming on to me, but I backed away, mainly I think because she was overweight and unattractive. Now had it have been Pauline Nash, the upper sixth beauty that would have been a completely different story. I also realised at school that I liked women like kd Lang, Sharon Stone in that wonderful film, Basic Instinct, that I'd seen several times on TV, Kylie and Madonna and others who had a bi or lipstick les side to them. I was intrigued and attracted by it and was, I suppose, what I learned on the net is termed, bi curious.

University gave me the opportunity to explore my curiosity; Stephanie and her glorious tits the opportunity to satisfy it.

I suppose it started just before the end of my first year, Steph's second. We were at the drama club's end of term party which was quite a big do held off campus at a restaurant cum bar in the centre of town. We were all having drinks prior to dinner and she came up to me. We'd got to know each other quite well by now, although there had been no hint of anything between us. 

She was looking particularly lovely that evening for, in keeping with tradition, she along with all of us had dressed up for the occasion. She was wearing a black, probably silk dress that was quite low at the front. The front of the dress wrapped around her between her boobs and was tied at the waist giving the distinct impression that if that was pulled undone everything would fall out. The skirt was tight and impressively, but at the time, somewhat unfashionably short. The whole garment clung to her like a second skin accentuating every voluptuously wonderful curve of her stunning body.

I was wearing a white dress. It was high at the front but the back plunged down to beneath my waist, almost showing the start of the crease of my bum, I'd noticed when I'd done a quick twirl just before leaving the flat. It was of an on the knee length, but the ultra tight skirt was slashed up the side almost to panty level. I'd put my long blonde hair up leaving a few tresses tumbling down by my ears and neck. I though I looked pretty good.

"Wow you look marvellous," I said to Stephanie, my eyes automatically being drawn to the vast array of flesh above the top of her dress.

"Well I thought I should give the old tits an outing, they don't get out much," she smiled leaning forward giving me an even better view of her wonderful chest. She gave me a peck on the cheek as she whispered. "And you look absolutely fantastic." Steph straightened up glancing at my chest and then looking behind me. "Forget anything did we by any chance?"

I laughed at her obvious references to the clear indentations of my nipples, indicating a lack of a bra, and the lowness of the back of my dress, suggesting a lack of panties. 

"No, I'm wearing panties," I smiled back, admitting the lack of bra.

We sat together at dinner and after we were in the same groups of girls and blokes standing around the bar drinking. Several of us danced in a circle and then broke into couples when a slower number came on. I danced with a nerd studying maths and then somehow Steph and I were dancing together, as indeed were several other girls; we by far outweighed the guys. 

The music was very loud so conversation was as good as impossible. But we didn't need that. I was pretty sure she was feeling similar to me. The booze, our closeness, the conversations we'd had about sex and sexuality over the past few months almost guaranteed that. Guaranteed that she, as well as I, would be feeling those tremors in our breasts and tummies, those slight shudders running throughout our bodies, the extra warmth and the tingling that indicates arousal. Where I was holding her round the waist her body felt taught, like a coiled up spring waiting to be released. As I looked into her eyes they were sparkling and staring back at me with a look of sheer want and desire. Her awesome chest, that to be truthful, despite my mentions here, I hadn't looked at with lust and desire until then, was heaving slightly as she, like me, was breathing quite heavy.

I wanted her to do something, say something that confirmed what I was hoping and thinking. I wanted to kiss her, hold myself tight to her and I wanted to see and stroke her boobs. At the same time I was so nervous, apprehensive and scared, I suppose. Sure I was full of bravado, yes I kidded myself on how adventurous I was and for certain I gave the impression of being very experienced and up for anything. But really I was still a kid; I was after all only just past my nineteenth birthday. I wasn't that experienced in sex at all, let alone with women where there'd only been that isolated experience at school.

But she didn't. I guess she was as unsure as me, after all trying to pull one of your close friends is a risky business isn't it? Especially a close friend in a community such as a university; particularly in such a public setting. So in the end nothing happened. Nothing that is other than us walking off the dance floor holding hands and staring deeply into the others eyes when we got back to the bar and let go of each other. Her hand in mine, though, was one of the most erotic things I'd ever experienced. The feel of her skin on mine, the softness and the warmth of it, the slight, almost impossible to discern, caress of her fingertips on the back of my hand and the gentle squeezing from both of us was, quite frankly, as exciting as having a man's hands on my breasts, in fact the reaction in my body and mind was very similar to that.

It was those feelings that filled my mind as I lay on my bed later that night. Those feelings and my imagination creating pictures in my mind of Steph naked beside me. Of her gorgeous breasts in my hands and my mouth on her nipples. Of her hands between my legs doing exactly what mine were doing; stroking round the almost impossibly wet lips and rubbing alongside the clitoris that seemed more sensitive than it had ever been before. It was her mouth licking my small breasts not my fingers, her teeth gently chewing my nipples not my fingernails and her tongue that was sliding up my pussy not my fingers. And of course it was Steph I was holding as I climaxed alone in my bed.

I didn't see her for a week or so and I suppose those feelings I'd had that night subsided a bit. But when she walked into the drama club meeting they returned, if anything more powerfully than before. The way she held my gaze just that few seconds longer than was necessary was so like DD had that I wondered whether the evening might bring a similar conclusion to that one.As the meeting went on I couldn't help but keep glancing at her noting that she caught my gaze, held it and smiled back at me nearly every time. Her wild mane of chestnut coloured hair that she was wearing loose was tumbling onto her shoulders and falling down her back, the longest tresses reaching to where her bra strap was. The bra strap I could clearly see through the white, cotton blouse she was wearing. She was wearing jeans; tight, blue jeans that fitted her long legs and pert bum so snugly. She looked gorgeous and I thought so eminently fuckable. The first time I realised with a jolt I'd ever thought that about another woman!

"Thanks for the lift Sam, would you like to come in for coffee, the rest will be there?" She asked as I pulled up outside the large house that six of the economics group rented.

Holding the steering wheel I half turned and looked at her."No, I'll give that a miss if that's ok."

"Sure," she said softly holding my gaze but making no move to get out. 

We just sat there for a moment or two, very close but separated by a mutual fear. A fear that was partly of being rejected and partly, I think, in a strange way, of being accepted. But in retrospect I could see that something had to happen, something had to give, something had to change, something had to make us share our feelings.

"Steph," I said turning and looking at her just as at exactly the same time she said.

"Sammi."

We laughed. "Go ahead," I said as she again at the same time said.

"After you."

I could hear the nervousness in her voice and see the apprehension in her eyes, even though it was dark in the MINI. We looked at each other for a moment or two until she said, in almost a whisper.

"Are you feeling the same things as I am Sam?"

The look on her face as she said that was so caring and intense that my heart went out to her. Instead of responding with the rather smart-arse remark about "how would I know" that firstly came into my mind, I replied, in a voice that was croaky with emotion.

"Yes Steph, I think I am."

"Oh God Sammi," were the wonderfully confirming last words I heard before we were in each others arms her lips on mine stopping any further talking.

It was simply the most exciting kiss I'd ever had: the most intense, the most arousing; the most succulent and the most enjoyable. It was long and tender; long and passionate; long and enquiring and long and inviting. It was a kiss of relief that we'd found each other and one of demand that we wanted more. It was asking and accepting at same time. It was everything a kiss should be and everything that I'd imagined it would be as I'd lain so many nights now, masturbating over exactly what we now doing. 

Our arms went round the other and our hands, as if on autopilot, found the others breasts. No words were exchanged, we didn't ask permission or give approval. There was no need, it was what our bodies wanted and our minds demanded, it was perfectly natural, the logical extension of the kiss and probably the most sexually exciting thing that had ever happened to me.

Somehow a couple of buttons on her blouse had come undone and my hands were on her bra and the bare flesh above it while hers were inside my sweater.

"Not here Sammi, not here, it's too public," Steph broke our kiss long enough to whisper.

"Where then? Where can we go?" I asked knowing it wasn't in her house or my flat that I shared with two others.

"Just drive Sam, take me somewhere quiet, where there's no one around."

I almost smiled as I drove into the country her hand stroking my neck, for once again I realised, I was going to make love in a car.

And make love we did. Wondrous, magical, exhilarating and tantalisingly stimulating love; love that was so different, so gentle, so exciting and so incredibly satisfying. It was soft and slow and tender, but it wasn't complete love, it couldn't be, we didn't have the time or the space on the back seat of a MINI for that. 

But we did have the time to bare our breasts for each other, to stroke and caress them, to squeeze and pinch them and to kiss and lick them. We had the time and the space and the will and the desire to make each other cum by stimulating our breasts. 

It was on the back seat of my MINI that I think I fell in love, well at least in lust, for Stephanie's tits. They were even more absolutely gorgeous naked than covered up, well I suppose that's natural and inevitable isn't it? They were so full, so heavy, so round and so firm, yet soft, if that isn't a contradiction in terms. They felt amazing in my hands and incredible in my mouth. Her nipples were big and excitingly crinkly and tasted like nectar as I sucked them as a baby would at her mother's teats. And her reaction to my oral attention was fantastic and so horny. The groans and moans, the long sighs and deep grunts, the tight gripping of her hands on me and the straining of her body, all combined to thrill me so much. As I made love to those fantastic breasts I didn't know just what it was that was giving me the greatest sexual pleasure, the feel, taste and look of them or the wonderful way she responded. But did I care? No not one bit. I just accepted, enjoyed and loved every second of the pleasure and extreme sexual stimulation I was gaining.

It wasn't by any means one way, for Stephanie was pretty much mirroring what I was doing to her breasts by doing the same to mine. And also it wasn't just me gaining the fantastic pleasures and stimulation for she was moaning and groaning as she had sex with my smaller, but I felt, equally sensitive tits and nipples.

We made each other cum twice like that. But we didn't go any further. I wanted to touch her between her legs but as she made no move to touch me there I was too shy to start that, maybe Steph felt the same, I thought.

As she opened the door to the MINI an hour or so later outside her house she held my face in her hands and we kissed each other very tenderly on the lips.

"I want you so much Sammi," she whispered.

"Oh yes, yes Steph," was the only sort of rather inept reply I could make.

"I want to make full and complete love to you, very, very soon," she whispered as she got out of the car.

Tomorrow 2.00 pm. The Royal Hotel, I'll txt the room number at 1.30.

I want and need u

Luv

Steph

I read on my phone when I got home. 

Smiling, I went to bed happy and thrilled at what had happened and excited and expectant about tomorrow

Can't wait to give myself 2 u

Loads and loads of luv

Sammi

I txd back.

For the first time for a week I didn't fantasise about her, nor did I masturbate. But then I didn't need to did I, for tomorrow she was going to fuck me wasn't she?

We've got a lot to follow up on haven't we? 

How thing's progressed with DD, what happened with What the Butler Saw and, of course Steph's tits.

They'll all be covered soon, I promise



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 04



If you've read the previous parts you'll know you what's happened so far and that you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action

You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Chapter 1

I didn't wear much. It was a warm day and there didn't seem much point in overdoing the clothing. So I just slipped on a little white thong and a loose, pale blue, thin tee shirt dress that came to mid thigh. I walked the half mile or so to the hotel and feeling a little nervous, for a part of me was thinking someone would stop me, went up to room 854. 

I knocked and the door slowly opened. Steph poked her head round the door but kept her body behind it. I walked in and my heart leaped when I saw that she was wearing just her panties and bra, both all white, very lacy and completely see through.

"Welcome to my lair," she smiled holding her arms out.

"Thanks," I smiled back, "it's wonderful to be here."

As her arms went round me and I was squashed against her marvellous chest she whispered just before we kissed, "I'll make it so wonderful for you Sam, I promise."

And she did. 

Every single moment of the eight hours we spent in that room was wonderful. Every touch, every kiss, every fondle, caress, stroke and lick was a new experience, a marvellous sensation and a wonderful adventure for me. Every time we made each other cum, every climax and every orgasm, every time my body was held against hers and every time her head was between my legs was wonderful. And every time I licked and sucked Stephanie's breasts or pussy was so wonderful.

Her hands had quickly lifted my dress over my head and she'd billed and cooed her delight at my naked breasts. I'd unclipped her bra and dropped that on the floor with my dress. We'd gone to the bed and lay in each others' arms. We'd kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. We stroked and fondled and licked and sucked each others' breasts and nipples and we made each other cum, several times.

We were laying on our sides in each others' arms when I felt her hands on my thong and bottom. She started to peel the thong down so I did the same to her panties. We were gazing adoringly into each others' eyes swapping little kisses as we made each other naked. She rolled me onto my back her eyes not leaving mine for one second. She supported herself on one elbow as she ran her other hand down my body and stroked my pubic mound. Still gazing into my eyes her fingers slid a little further and slipped across my clitoris and onto my soaked lips. I grunted and my body jerked, so strong were the sensations.

"OK?" she mouthed, smiling tenderly at me.

"Yes of course," I whispered back reaching up and cupping her breast as if to accentuate my agreement.

She then proceeded to finger fuck me to the most massive orgasm I think I'd ever had. I came with my mouth full of her nipple and one of my hands between her legs. But she didn't stop when I climaxed. I was still shuddering with sexual ecstasy when, for the first time, I had a tongue on my pussy.

My body just seemed to explode with such extreme sexual feelings that I may well have fainted from them. I don't know how many times I climaxed or whether I just had one of those long, long ones of the type Rick used to give me. All I know was that my mind and body coincided in such physical and emotional extremes that I lost all reason. I was crying, grunting, moaning, sighing and maybe even screaming, I don't know. 

All I know is that I loved it. I adored it and there and then I became addicted to and a massive fan of oral sex. I found it so wonderfully intimate and so fantastically giving. A unique blend of those two, the one being loved gives so much and the one doing it is so intimate. A perfect partnership in erotic sensations exchange, I found, but then to my readers I'm probably trying to teach grandparents to suck eggs, aren't I? But remember it was totally new to me and my pussy, that was a virgin to tongues and lips, was just being deflowered!

And deflowered it was in such an awesome manner. But so far, the oral love had been one way. As I cuddled Steph and as she cradled my head to her lovely breasts I was thanking her and stroking her so I knew, and so I wanted and so I needed and so I so desired to do the same to her.

"That's the first time anyone has done that to me," I told her running my fingertips over her gloriously soft and smooth skin. I could hardly believe the difference in touch between a man and a woman, but then I suppose that's obvious, so what I mean, I guess, is the difference to another woman when she's sexually aroused.

"Really, anyone? Or do you mean just a girl?" she asked holding my breast and gently pinching the nipple.

I looked up right into her eyes. 

"Anyone Steph, anyone at all, honestly."

Smiling she replied. "Well I'm pleased to take your oral virginity Sam as well as your female one." I'd told her in the car that I'd never been with another woman. I saw the sparkle in her eyes as she went on, still holding and rubbing my tits that were tingling wonderfully. "I take it you enjoyed it Sam?"

The kiss I gave her being open mouthed, tongue plunging and lips grinding, was intended to answer that question in the most affirmative way, but I still whispered.

"So much Steph, I enjoyed it so much."

But the time had come; she knew it as well as I did. The moment was here when the favour had to be returned, no not had to be, needed to be and so badly. I wanted to love Steph that way, have sex with her like that, be so marvellously intimate with her and give her the pleasure she'd given me. I wanted to hold her down there, have my face against her most womanly place, I wanted to taste her and smell her. Yes I wanted to fuck her with my mouth as she'd just fucked me.

Looking deep into her eyes and softly stroking her body I started to slither downwards. She knew exactly what I was doing, where I was going and what was going to happen.

"Oh yes, yes Sammi," she said softly and rather huskily I thought, as she ran her fingers through my hair. "Oh yes baby, have me like that, take me Sammi."

Her words were almost as thrilling as the feel of her soft tummy on my face, nearly as exciting as feeling the crinkliness of her pubic hairs on my lips and getting on for being as pleasurable as the intoxicating smell that was filling my nostrils as my face rested on her silky thighs, that opened slowly but so, so wonderfully.

Then for the first time I gazed at another girl's pussy, and in marvellous technicolour close up as well. Sure I'd seen pictures of a few in dirty mags and on the net; of course I'd looked at mine in a mirror and yes I'd got very brief glimpses of other girls "equipment" in the showers at school and at tennis, but never anything like this.

Having my face between Stephanie's thighs, my eyes and mouth so close to her pussy, being able to see everything and to smell her streaming womanly juices was simply amazing. Well it was more than that if there is such a description. I can remember just laying there gazing at her for a while thinking rather ridiculously and unnecessarily crudely.

"Are all cunts this beautiful or is it just hers."

But I had little time to ponder such delicate topics for I felt a pressure on my head and a low whimper from Steph, who had, I assumed been sitting patiently as I ogled her pussy!

Have you ever had a really magnificent curry? Have you ever sampled anything that simply makes your taste buds and sense of smell explode? Have you ever had anything that stimulates all the four senses of touch, sight, smell and taste at the same time to an electrifying degree? Well if not get to suck a pussy as soon as you can. 

Everything just simply blew me away: the silkiness and the warmth of the excretions and of Steph's lips; the feel and the sensations on my tongue as I was tipping her velvet; the way her lips opened and contracted as my mouth, so naturally it seemed, found its way round them, along them inside them and onto her clitoris that, to my uneducated tongue, felt as though it was throbbing. The way her hands gripped then released me; the way they sought and found, for I moved so they would, my breasts, my nipples, my mouth, bottom and pussy; the way her body went tight, her back arched, her legs opened and straightened and her chest, her marvellous, wonderful, awesome chest, rose and fell. All of it was unique and fabulous.

"Oooooooooooooo Sam, Sam Sam," she groaned as my licking got to her. 

She was pulling my hair with one hand and squeezing my breast with the other. I redoubled my efforts on my lover's most intimate and private, yet now totally open and available places. I was holding her hips, but from a different angle to which I'd ever held anyone's hips before. My face was between her opened thighs; my body was lying in straight line away from her tummy, like a massive prick I thought, trying to get into her vagina. My arms were under her legs reaching up and holding her hips, pulling them towards my face as I pushed myself towards her; just like, I smiled to myself, that massive prick trying to get into her. Yes, my body and my face were both like phalluses trying to get inside Stephanie to fuck her. At that moment, as she started to cum, I wanted to be a man, I wanted to have a cock, I almost wanted to be a cock, I was a cock, or more realistically my tongue was a cock and it was that which was most certainly fucking this magnificent woman.

It was too complicated, confusing and sheer fucking exciting to faithfully record; I simply can't remember what happened in detail. All I know is that I made Steph cum, several times and that was incredible. I've made men cum, but that had nowhere near the effect on me that giving my first female lover an orgasm did. 

I don't think I have a sufficient grasp of English to describe my feelings as I had oral sex with her; as I loved her with my tongue and mouth so tenderly, lovingly and erotically to the point that she climaxed due to me; as the realisation of what I was doing to her mind and body at the same time hit me; as at the same time I slithered my body so I gave greater availability of my womanly places to her; and as together we simply exploded with such extreme sexual sensations that we lie for I don't know how long sobbing and holding each other as wave after wave of such sensational sensations consumed us.

Chapter 2

So my last few months at university were consumed by two things. DD, my older man, and Stephanie, my lesbian lover; some trilogy what? 

Funnily and for no logical reason, neither knew that I was shagging the other. I often wondered, though, whether DD and she were getting it on behind my back. Even funnier, that didn't really concern me and if they had I wouldn't have minded, after all I had both of them as well didn't I? 

See, there's another example of my sexual oddness that I started talking about in Part 1 of this bio. I loved both of them. Loved and wanted them, but I didn't feel jealousy, I didn't wonder what they were up to when not with me and I never asked or was really concerned about other partners they might have. I hardly even questioned DD about his wife and he volunteered little so she became what, a nothing I suppose? I didn't feel that I was screwing up her marriage for my affair with her husband was clearly sexual and not romantic. And with Steph, as much as I adored her, I had no thoughts of living with her or, even, of committing myself to her. Neither she nor I were lesbians, we just liked fucking girls as well as men, didn't we?

David had me first time on the sofa in his study. It was a leather Chesterfield, big and comfy but bloody cold on my bare skin. 

We didn't continue following the script of What the Butler Saw; that had served its purpose, it had got me where I wanted to be, in his arms, and it had got him where he wanted to be for some time, or so he told me later, in my knickers. 

I guess he was pretty used to students throwing themselves at him and I know that he was used to catching a few. He certainly caught me, for as we kissed he pulled me onto his lap, his hands easily finding my unfettered breasts through the front of my blouse several buttons of which had "mysteriously" come undone. I so wanted him, but it wasn't to be, well not right then at least.

"Sam, I don't want to do this," he said easing me off his lap.

"What? Why? What do you mean David?" I asked as confused by him as I had been by Rick when he'd gone walkabout.

"It's very dangerous."

Standing just a few feet from him, my blouse still undone the right edge of it catching on my nipple, which was still hard, the left almost, but not quite covering my breast, I smiled as I said. 

"Mmmmm, yes deliciously so isn't it?"

He smiled as well. "You know what I mean."

"Yes I do, but you seem to like me and I like you," I said hating the words as they came out for they were so childlike.

"Yes that's as maybe Sam, but I'm married and I'm a lecturer at the college."

"You're also a man David and I'm a woman," I responded staring right into his eyes as I popped a Marlboro into my mouth, letting the blouse fall completely open as I leaned forward to light the cigarette from his match. He was staring quite unashamedly at my tits, but then I was quite unashamedly flashing them wasn't I?

"And a very attractive one at that Sam, but you don't know what you're letting yourself in for. It can be very complicated and messy"

"How do you mean?"

"If we have an affair?" were the stunning words he came back with. 

I hadn't really been thinking like that. An affair? That implied longer term didn't it? It meant a commitment; emotional as well as physical involvement; cheating and lying, going behind his wife's back and not telling my friends. None of that had occurred to me, I hadn't thought it through. I was thinking more of having a shag now and then than of the other consequences. But of course he was right; there were all these other things to consider, especially for him. This was grown up stuff, but then it's grown ups that have affairs isn't it? Kids have relationships. Now he'd said it though I wanted one, yes an affair would do me nicely, it would be right up my street to have a lover and to be a mistress. How decadent and wonderfully romantic was that?

I was smiling, probably looking inane to David as I mulled all this over, the daft thought coming into my mind of. "Could I now put mistress down as my occupation when asked on forms?." 

"If David?" I asked taking a drag on the ciggy and looking intriguingly at him through the smoke. Unfortunately the intrigue look on my face rather vanished for I had a coughing fit, not being that used to smoking. "I rather thought we'd sort of started," I went on placing my hand on my hip opening my blouse right up as I did.

"Well yes, er, yes we have sort of."

"Well?" I asked holding the, what I thought was an incredibly sexy pose, of one hand on my hip, the other holding the fag, real Marlene Dietrich stuff!!

"Look Sam, I can't lie to you and make out I don't do things like that, that I haven't had flings before and probably will in the future. I have. But I am married and that's important to me as is my job. If an affair with a student became known I'd probably lose both. That's a big, big risk."

"So it mustn't come out then, must it?" I said simply and I hoped meaningfully and sincerely. Smiling I added. "I won't tell anyone if you don't," as I moved closer to him.

As I stood there, no more than a meter or so from this attractive forty year old man, I felt so excited. As I offered myself to him, as I sort of flaunted my body at him, flashed my bare breasts at him and as, effectively, I seduced him I have to admit, I felt great. It really was an amazing turn on to do that. Inexplicable and completely outside any experience I'd had, it gave me such strong sensations to be doing something that I'd always previously sort of frowned on and had thought was something I'd never do. To be putting myself on a platter and basically saying to a guy, "you can have me" was so far outside my moral code, if they're the right words, that in an odd way it became acceptable. Not just acceptable but also arousing, stimulating, challenging and somehow empowering, a little like giving Stephanie an orgasm or a guy a blow job, not that I'd yet done that so maybe it wasn't.

I felt powerful and for the first time in my sexual life, in charge. I was directing proceedings, making things happen, doing what I wanted; I was, I suppose, using terms I hardly knew the full meaning of, dominating him as he became my submissive.

My eyes not leaving his for a second I slipped the blouse off and gently let it fall to the floor. I placed my hands on my breasts as I closed the space between us and stood looking down at him sitting on the high backed chair his legs, in the corduroy trousers so popular with uni lecturers, slightly open. Caressing my boobs I stood so that my knees were touching his. He didn't say a word so I decided silence was the best policy. 

I'd purposefully worn a skirt; after all I had good legs, they were nicely tanned and a bit of bare flesh never hurt a seduction I'd always been told.

With a confidence I didn't know I had and a sensuousness I'd learned there and then I slid myself onto his lap. My legs were wide open, the skirt was pussy high, my breasts were bare and my face was inches from his as I straddled his loins facing him.

"So Mr Deekins," I whispered pinching both of my nipples.

"So Samantha?" he croaked back leaning forward and kissing me gently on each cheek.

"Do you think?" I asked between us grinding our mouths together and shoving our tongues into the other's throats, "this sort of constitutes the start of an affair?"

"I'll have to think deeply about that and perhaps check the rule books, but yes I think there's good chance it does," he smiled back as he took the hem of my denim skirt and rolled it up even further so it was bunched around my waist.

I opened his Ralph Lauren shirt and ran my fingers all over his nice chest. He was slightly tanned, quite, but not overly, muscular or hairy and really looked lovely sitting there as I peeled the shirt from him. 

I leaned forward and started kissing and licking his chest. He put his hands under my bottom and lifted me nearer to him. I slid my fingers inside the waist of his trousers. He slipped his under the mini skirt and into my panties. I touched his erection just as he ran his fingers along the lips of my pussy.

"Oh God Sam," he moaned lifting me off his knees and standing us up.

I panicked thinking, "here we go again," but it was ok. He pulled me into his arms. My breasts were crushed against his lovely chest and his gorgeous erection made a wonderful dent right up my tummy. He struggled my skirt undone and with just a little help from me slid it down my legs and off so I stood in his arms in just my blue thong and brown, sling back shoes. He pushed me backwards manoeuvring me towards the big, green leather Chesterfield that he gently laid me on. 




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 04



It was smooth and a little cold but that didn't matter, nothing mattered other than Mr Deekins and me; at that moment he was my entire world and, I hoped, I was his. As he stood beside the sofa looking down at me his fingers fiddling with his belt and zip, it looked very much as if I was just that.

I went to remove my panties as I thought that was the appropriate thing to do. I was playing things by ear for I hadn't been here before and had no idea what was expected of me; I hadn't played the game so I didn't know the rules, how could I?

"No," he said a little sharply as he slipped his trousers down his legs, considerately removing his socks at the same time. "Leave them on for me Sammi, they look so good."

Momentarily thinking, "oh shit not another clothes freak," my mind going back to the times with Rich when he'd made me wear my school uniform to fuck me in, I quickly realised this was different. I mean, after all, a pretty, lacy thong is quite a different thing to a cream and red striped blazer, a school shirt and tie isn't it?

He had an assurance I'd never seen in a man I'd made love with, but then as that was only three it wasn't much of a sample was it; certainly not statistically significant enough for Mori or Gallup? But the confident and unabashed way he slid his boxers down and completely bared himself to me really was something. I liked it, I liked how he'd now taken control, that he was leading the way and directing the action. Yes I felt better now that Mr Deekins was dominant, for that let me play my more natural role, a submissive.

He really did look absolutely gorgeous as he as good as posed in front of me for a moment or two. I'd learned that I liked the look of naked men; especially naked, erect men; especially naked, erect men who are about to make love to me and most especially this one for he was now kneeling on the sofa kissing me. I felt so special; I felt wanted, needed, adored and very, very feminine indeed as the naked, rampantly erect lecturer, kissed me, stroked my body and whispered lovely little nothings into my breasts; yes he seemed to speak into them, not my ears, but then men have that tendency, for, as I've found over the years, they also talk into nipples, pussies and bums as well.

Now was evidently the time for my knickers removal. As he kissed me he started pulling on them, I raised myself to help him by putting both arms round his neck and using that to lift my bum from the sofa; my skin stuck to the leather for a moment or two and then came away as if my skin was peeling. 

But then I was wonderfully naked in his arms. I felt great, it was what I wanted, what I needed and what my body had so strongly been craving for so long now; to be naked crushed against DD with him about to make love to me.

I wanted to, but somehow didn't have the confidence to take his manhood in my hands. It didn't seem right, somehow. Silly I know but that's how I was then. The next time he had me though was a totally different ball game, but we'll get to that later.

I was laying on the sofa one leg stretched along that the other bent with my foot on the floor. David was lying between my opened legs, his arms around me as our mouths deep kissed and tongued each other. His cock was pressed right into my stomach the base of it squashed against my pubic bone. My arms were round him running up and down his back his were squeezing my breasts and bum at the same time. Absolute heaven!

He wiggled, he slid down me a little, he propped himself up and, impressing me enormously, he slid a condom on one handed. We went back to the position we'd just been in, well almost. He was still between my opened legs, his hands were still all over my bum and boobs, I was still stroking his back and our mouths were still clamped together. But now his cock wasn't on my stomach, it wasn't making that large indentation in my softness and its base wasn't pressing on my pubic area. No, now it was between my thighs, now it was beneath my stomach, yes now the tip of it was nuzzling right against my lips that I was sure were opening of their own accord to give this most welcome visitor a rousing welcome.

He raised himself a little so that we were looking at each other.

"I want you so much Sam, I didn't realise it."

I smiled with pleasure. "I want you as well David," adding as I held his gaze, "and I did realise it."

He laughed and kissed me. 

"Actually I did realise it, but I put it out of my mind. It's dangerous and I didn't think you'd want an old sod like me."

"Oh David," I sighed pulling his face to mine and kissing him passionately. Adding, (probably rather melodramatically, but hey then that's me isn't it? It comes with the package, the youth, the tits, the oddness about sex and the liking for older men), "have me David, please take me."

And with that he buried his face in my long blonde hair, grabbed my bum with both hands and eased himself forwards so his cock opened those lips that had been waiting wet and ajar precisely for this.

Can there be a better sensation than that of a hard cock slipping up your waiting pussy? I doubt it. It's simply awesome, wicked, magical and just fucking fantastic. There are so many associated feelings, both physically and emotional, that I'd like to describe, but probably shouldn't for I think I know what you most want. And that's to hear how David Deekins fucked me isn't it?

Well he was good. Good to me at that time meant better than the nerd who'd had my virginity, better than Rick who'd taught me so much but was such a bastard and better than the university nonentity I'd had just after I started, who I hardly even remember, so it's a somewhat untested opinion. But to be shagged for ten minutes or so, as his hands were all over me, as we kissed and licked each other, as he varied from deep, long thrusts to short faster ones and as he made me cum twice before exploding into me can't be much less than good can it? 

We only did it once that afternoon, but then after that we only did it once most afternoons, up until I left a few months later. That was plenty for me. 

I loved being "looked after" regularly; it's a most interesting feeling. No wondering where the next shags coming from, no looking at men who stare or chat you up and wondering whether they fancy me and no frustration at all, for your body doesn't go long enough without sexual stimulations for it to build up. A bit like being married I guess, but without the hassle.

I suppose we fell in love in a way. We both knew there was no future and although David had secured a new job in London we knew we'd never be true partners. I didn't mind at all, after all having a lover and being a mistress is far cooler than being together, I think. Although I felt no sorrow for his cheated wife I didn't want to break anything up, not that he'd have wanted me to in any case. Also, although I find older men more interesting and enthralling and, without doubt from my perspective, they're far better lovers, I had no desire to have one as a long term partner; a twenty year difference at eighteen is one thing, two decades between a couple at forty and sixty is quite another.

So the inevitable pillow talk between us on those long, lazy sex filled afternoons and evenings wasn't maudlin and messy. It didn't dwell on the future and what will happen to us. It didn't concern itself with "her" and how we'd cheat on her and see each other once he moved to London and it didn't discuss our relationship through rose tinted glasses. No both of us recognised it for what it was. An older man having a fling with a young bird and an impressionable young woman giving vent to her yen for older men, To say that it was just sex was an overstatement, just about. Sex was of course the prime motivator but there was something else as well. Whether it was love or a derivative of that who knows? We cared and felt for each other and wanted to be together but we both recognised the restrictions our ages and situations placed on us and were relaxed living within them.

So basically we fucked each other when we could and thought sod the future.

But the future needs to be told and will be in the next few parts of my sexual bio.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 05



In Part 4, that the keen eyed amongst you'll notice was cunningly the second part 3, you got to know Stephanie and her awesome breasts, I introduced you to DD and we met his lovely cock and we talked about the Joe Orton play, What the Butler Saw. This part is all of that and more. Is that OK?

If you've read the previous parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action

You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Chapter 1

DD never got to see his private previews. He didn't get the chance to watch me strip and pretend to kiss a lover as a rehearsal for the play. But then he didn't need to. Why watch me acting when he had the real thing? Why watch me pretend to be shagged by the doctor? Why watch me act out having cunnilingus or performing fellatio when he could lick my pussy or I'd suck his cock any time?

But he did run the rehearsals for the drama club of the university when we put on What the Butler Saw by Joe Orton as our Christmas offering; after all he was the director. And we did have some closed sets when either Stephanie, my lipstick lesbian lover, or I stripped off. So I suppose, in some ways, they were private reviews. But they weren't, as I'd originally suggested and intended, in his house. No neither I, nor we, stripped off in his lounge, we didn't simulate sex there; no, we did that on the floor of the rehearsal room. We did that with the male lead, a post grad playing the part of the head of the psychiatric clinic, Dr Barclay, and we did that with each other. Yes Steph and I simulated sex, lesbian sex, in front of the rest of the cast. Actually it wasn't really that simulated, it was more replays of the sex we had together from time to time.

It was as we rehearsed these scenes for the play that dress rehearsals took on an entire new meaning for Steph and me.

David was the director of the play and I was the main scriptwriter. I added to and adjusted Joe Orton's masterpiece. A bloody cheek really but even great plays have to be adapted for the company performing them and, after all, we were only a bunch of students studying a whole range of subjects, not drama.

I worked closely with DD discussing most of the sex scenes in some detail. Funnily enough this was often in bed after we'd had sex; what a marvellous environment, we found, for creative thinking on that topic! So he was fully aware of the short lesbian scene I'd inserted and several times questioned me on my feelings about it. To some extent, I hid behind the old acting excuse, "well if the story calls for it........" I did, though, a couple of times tell him that the idea of kissing another girl wasn't repugnant to me and that in some ways it excited me and I was looking forward to rehearsing it with Steph. I didn't mention that we'd already done that and so much, much more for real many times.

"Mmmmmm so am I," he retorted running his hand down my body and cupping my pubis in his hands.

"You dirty sod," I quipped back.

"No just a normal man," he replied as he sank three fingers into my pussy.

Dress rehearsals are normally where the cast get to wear their costumes scene by scene; with this production, though, it was where Steph and I got to flash our bits to our fellow students. In all but the final dress rehearsal we kept our bras and panties on but in that one, we were both naked, showing everything including our nipples and pubes.

Although our fellow would be thespians took a high ground, artistic approach to our nudity and Steph's magnificent bare breasts, at least on the surface for there were no, "cor get a load of that remarks," we could both tell that the male students at least took a lot more than just a passing interest in us, both on stage and around the university. Yes a lot more, for their attention to our writhings in each others arms, to mine in the male lead's arms and to Steph's in all of her four lover's arms were quite intense; Mrs Barclay, by the way for those of you not familiar with the plot, is a nymphomaniac!

The les scene that Steph and I had written together, no not in bed after sex, was short but we felt very intense and of importance to the plot. My role, Lisa, had applied to the clinic for a job as a secretary. She gets involved in a number of mistaken identity situations that by any other writer would have been, at best, high farce. With Joe, though, they were meaningful, interesting, hilarious and for a stage play, extraordinarily sexy.

Geraldine, the wife, was suspicious of her husband, the doctor. She was particularly curious and concerned about his relationship with some of his female staff and was especially worried about the new secretary, me. So she decided to seduce me before her husband did thus getting my loyalty before him. Yes a bit far fetched, but it fitted in with the storyline and the personality of the four main characters and it certainly interested and excited Stephanie and me.

Obviously we couldn't be too explicit and thus there was no nude cuddling or fondling of private parts on show to the audience. What we devised was for Geraldine to ply Lisa with drink getting her a little tipsy. They would eventually kiss on stage and then the audience would see them walking up the stairs their arms around each other. The stage had been built on a split level so there was, in effect, a bedroom; after all much of the real action of the play was in there. After Steph and I wandered up the stairs there was another scene played downstairs and then there was us in bed.

It was incredibly exciting for me to be in Steph's arms, our bodies squashed together our mouths clamped as David stood just a few feet away directing us. It was even more exciting to stand next to the bed with Steph as David instructed us on the pace at which we should take off our clothes. And of course being in bed with her, our total nudity covered by just a thin sheet as we "simulated" making love watched over by, what I could see was, a highly aroused, David was, to say the least, interesting.

In addition to the les scene there were six other sex scenes with Steph and me being naked and on full view in three of them, me in one and her two; the other three were bed scenes where neither of us flashed anything, except bumps under the sheets that is!

We'd done the scenes several times in our undies with closed sets before the final dress rehearsal a couple of days before the first night. It had been agreed that the entire cast and production team would act as the audience along with a number of students and others that had been invited along. I guess at most time there must have been forty to fifty onlookers.

Steph had the first nude scene. She seduced a young travelling salesman in the clinic using the old stage technique of undressing with a door open through which he could see her. Mine then came a few scenes later as I was getting ready for the second interview. The scene started with me in dressing gown that I removed and then looked in a wardrobe working out the clothes to wear at the interview. As I did that only my back was on show but as I lay my chosen clothes out on the bed the audience were given a good show of my naked body side on. It was as I dressed in the sexy undies, bra, stockings and suspender belt, remember this was set in the sixties, that I moved up stage and gave a full on frontal flash of my tits, nipples and, as Orton referred to it in his notes, my beaver!

The scene with Steph was, without doubt the most revealing. Remember we'd gone upstairs after kissing and then another scene was acted out before all of the stage other than the bedroom was darkened. As the lights came up on us we were standing looking at each other in our bras and panties. 

The script called for Geraldine to ask me whether I'd ever been with a woman before and for me to reply that I hadn't but had thought about it quite a lot; hmmmm a ring of truth there you'll see if you've been following my progress.

"So Lisa, now's your chance isn't it?" She had to ask me as she unclipped her bra nodding to invite me to do the same.

As we stood face to face, side onto the auditorium, I had to say.

"Have you been with many women Geraldine?"

And she replied.

"Enough to know I enjoy them and I'm going to enjoy you Lisa."

As she finished that she started to remove her panties. Being an impressionable but up for it young hussy I did the same and then we stared at each others nude bodies before holding hands walking up stage flashing everything and then getting into bed and kissing deeply before rolling around under the sheet as the light slowly dimmed.

The main feeling I had at the last dress rehearsal when I was naked was extreme nervousness. I'd only ever been naked with more than one person when in the changing rooms with girls and no "stranger" had ever seen my nude body. So when I was dressing and when I was with Steph completely stark bullock naked in front of the rest of the cast and production team I could hardly remember what to do or say.

On the back seat of my MINI parked in a field just outside Bristol later that evening I said to Steph.

"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle this you know?"

"What this?" She said laughing and holding her naked breast to my lips.

"No silly," I replied after giving her full and nicely erect nipple a lick. "I mean the nudity on stage, I was fucking nervous tonight."

"Don't worry so was I. It'll as they say be alright on the night."

"That was without doubt the most erotic scene in the drama club's history," David whispered as his cock sunk deeply into me the next afternoon. "It was instant hard on stuff."

Chapter 2.

The buzz that went through me as I stood bathed in light at the front of the stage with getting on for two hundred people staring at my naked body was incredible. What's the female equivalent of instant hard on stuff? Whatever that is I was now getting it each evening as we did the play.

The opening night when I stripped and donned the sexy underwear had been horrendously nerve-racking; I could hardly fumble the bra strap clasp together and I completely forgot to turn my body towards and away from the audience at the prescribed times. When I stared from the wings at Steph naked on stage as she seduced the salesman I'd been nervous for her, but felt a slight tremor of excitement watching my lover naked in a man's arms. When she and I stripped off I was nervy, but when we were in bed with the audience still looking and she held my breast and I squeezed her bum I felt shudders of excitement.

By the third night things had changed. They'd changed so much I could hardly believe it, so much that I could hardly wait to get out there and strip for my audience. Yes by the third night I was relishing flaunting my body, flashing my tits and shaking my ass.

"You must have such a strong exhibitionist streak," David explained as I told him about the feelings the next afternoon lying naked on his bed after we'd had sex twice.

The more I thought about it the more I agreed with him. I couldn't quite understand it for I was still hellishly nervous waiting to get on stage. Once I was there, though, the lights were on me, the audience was staring and my clothes were coming off I came alive. 

"I know exactly how you feel," Steph mumbled through the flesh of my breasts she'd just sucked into her mouth. "I feel exactly the same."

"Shit, stop," I said sharply pulling myself away from her.

"What? Why? What's the matter?"

"I've got to flash these tits on stage tomorrow, I can't have bloody love bites or suck or bite marks on them can I?"

Ah the sacrifices we actresses make for our art I thought as I slipped them back into my bra.

"Oh fuck Steph," I whispered into her ear as she slid her fingers into me. "You can't, not here."

And by "not here" I meant in the bed, under the sheet, on the stage, on the last night.

But she did mean it, she wasn't messing around and right there in front of the largest crowd we'd had with standing room only she made me cum. Thank goodness the audience couldn't see under the sheet I thought as the very quick, sharp orgasm ran through me; if there'd been prizes for facial expressions in acting I would have won hands down I'm sure.

Steph had to simulate sex with three different guys and me in the play while I only had to do that with the post grad playing the doctor and with her. She was also in bed with the post grad. 

"Pretty much every time," she'd replied when I'd asked if he'd got a hard on with her.

"And quite an impressive size wasn't it? What about the others?"

"Charles did I think, but Harry and John didn't, well I didn't notice."

We were chatting at the last night party back stage at the theatre. We were still wearing our stage clothes, Steph in a black and white quartered, A line mini-dress and me in hotpants, red satin ones at that, and white boots. We were very much the centre of attraction for most of the cast and probably half the production team were men. 

Throughout the latter stages of rehearsals and the five night run of the play the whole crew had got to know each other better and better and as with most acting teams there was a relaxed, light-hearted and very open bantering sort of atmosphere between us all.

It was odd to be standing amongst all these people who, apart from by this play, I hardly knew, knowing that they'd all seen me naked, watched as I simulated sex and ogled me as I pretended to cum. If anyone had asked how I would have thought I would feel in such circumstances I'd have said extraordinarily embarrassed. 

But standing shoulder to shoulder with my lipstick lover we both agreed that we were astonished to find we were enjoying it. We were getting a vicarious thrill out of the boys positively leering as they mentally undressed us, again, and a similar excitement from the looks of most of the girls; amazingly they were not disdainful or sneering looks but more envious ones. Strange, we both thought, as I felt her hand stroking my satin covered bottom, I was naked under the hotpants.

It was just ten minutes later that Steph was fucking me in the dressing room we shared. And boy did we need that, for the evenings events had got to both of us in such a big way.

We were all very tired and the party started breaking up early, in fact just after Steph had stroked my bum and I'd looked into her eyes trying mouthing just one word.

"Yes," which was the clear answer to the question she'd posed with her hand on my bum.

She locked the dressing room door behind us and immediately we were in each others arms. Kissing, grinding our bodies together and fumbling with the other's clothes we'd soon bared the parts we needed so see and touch. Her dress had a zip down the front, they did strange things with clothing in the sixties, so that easily came undone and I quickly eased her breasts from the cups of her bra. Just moments after entering the dressing room I had the entire front of her awesome body at my disposal. 

My top was low and loose and, in keeping with the bra burning values of the time I wasn't wearing a bra, nor had I been throughout each night of the play. Steph quickly had that pulled up and over my head so I was in her arms topless, just wearing the tight, red satin hot pants and the knee high white boots. 

We were standing with me propped up against the dressing table. Our mouths were clamped, our breasts squashed together, my hand was between her opened thighs, hers was inside the tiny shorts and we were finger fucking each other when we heard the first knock on the door.

"Leave it," she grunted in a low whisper thrusting her fingers deeper into me as we both started to cum.

The knocking persisted.

"We'll have to answer it," I said, guessing who it was.

"Yes, I suppose we will," Steph said removing her fingers from my streaming pussy.

"Oh David hi," I said standing up on tip toe and giving him a kiss as he strolled into our dressing room looking gorgeous and eminently wantable.

I'd got my top back into place and Steph had slipped on a robe as I was answering the door and I could see in the big mirrors that we looked respectable, albeit a little flushed.

He'd brought champagne and we all had a glass as he congratulated us both on great performances. We thanked him and we sat around for a while chatting and finishing the bottle of champagne. It was a weird scene. I was with both the woman and the man I was having sex with and neither knew about the other unless, that was I thought, they were also screwing each other and their pillow talk was more open than ours. Quite a cocktail of possibilities I thought as I sat there my hotpants damp from having Steph's fingers in me just moments ago.

"Well Sam," David was saying, "you pulled it off. You took one of the raunchiest plays, made it raunchier and sold out the theatre with a very mixed audience five nights in a row. Fantastic. I was wondering if my two stars would like to join me for a late supper"

"Thanks David but it wasn't me it was us and the team. I just wrote the words."

"No darling," Steph joined in leaning forward and placing her hand on my wrist, the robe gaping and showing most of her breasts, to both David and me. "It was you; it was your creation, your idea, your suggestions that made it so wonderful." 

She left her hand there, probably a little too long really, possibly so long that David would have noticed, maybe long enough for him to have wondered just how much acting had gone on between us at the rehearsals and in the play. And it was certainly there long enough for it to send shivers of expectancy and want roaring through me.

The want, though, was not confined to my lesbian lover, for it also included my older, male lover as well. Yes, the atmosphere in that small dressing room, as Stephanie rested her fingers on my wrist softly caressing it and as both David and I looked down the gaping front of her robe at her truly magnificent breasts, was electric. It was also so loving and tender, expectant and anticipatory and, for me at least so horny and arousing that I was worried that I'd start to cum just thinking about it. 

I was with two people who I loved; I wasn't in love with either if you can understand the subtle difference, but I wanted both of them. Both of them together, both at the same time. I wanted to give myself to them and have them share me as they so desired. I wanted the three of us to be as one.

I saw Steph look up at David and smiling say.

"Can tell you don't go out that much David."

"How, why?" he asked obviously confused now as well as a little embarrassed, for Steph had clearly seen him looking down her robe. 




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 05



She straightened up and let go of my wrist. The robe was gaping almost to her waist showing marvellously ample masses of he breasts, but, regrettably, not quite her nipples.

"Because David this fucking town shuts down for food at eleven and it's long past that now isn't?"

He looked at his watch.

"Mmmm yes of course it is, I lost track of time sorry. Still Maison Deekins can always rustle up scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and champagne at any time night or day. Interested?"



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 06



Okay, back to the correct numbering of the parts now. Has there really been six? I wonder how many of you, if any, have read all of them? Why not let me know if you have, or haven't come to that. By the way thanks to all of you who've taken the time to reply with, mostly thank goodness, nice mails and compliments. Please, though do let me know of anything you don't like or find hard to understand.

If you've read the previous parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action

You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

A New Start

Chapter 1

The man and the woman were kneeling on the mat facing each other. The personal trainer was wearing a singlet and blue track trousers which had been pushed down round his knees. He was hugely erect. The woman was holding his erection between her hands staring at it with an almost reverential look on her face. The straps of her leotard had been pushed down so that her breasts were completely bare. Her nipples were fiercely hard I noticed, as I watched the personal trainer's hands squeezing and kneading her full breasts. 

I watched closely as the woman's face contorted with the pleasure she was receiving. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed, she was moving her head slowly from side to side. I was transfixed standing in the doorway looking at the hugely erotic scene unfolding before me. 

Maybe the woman sensed something, or I may have made a noise, possibly a little gasp of excitement, but suddenly she turned and stared directly at me.

I met my mother's eyes across the room and without a word I quietly closed the door.

Chapter 2

I'd arrived home unannounced from Bristol where I was at university studying English. I hated it and had desperately wanted to leave for some time. I'd told mum and dad a few months ago how unhappy I was and that I wanted to chuck it in, but they wouldn't let me and reluctantly I'd started the second year. But that had got too much so one Thursday I just packed my bags, left and came home and that's how I found my mum just about to fuck her personal trainer.

I'd lasted through the Christmas term largely due to the drama club and my involvement in the script-writing, adaptation and staging of the Joe Orton play, "What the Butler Saw." David Deekins, or DD as I thought of him, a lecturer who gave time to the students' drama club, was the director of the play and had become my older, married lover during its production. Stephanie, who was studying economics and had played the lead, the doctor's wife and a nymphomaniac, in the play, had become my lesbian, well more lipstick lesbian, lover during the same period. That play had a lot to answer for didn't it? Neither David nor Steph had known of my relationship with the other until the last night of the play; but more of that later.

I'd suspected for some time that my mum, who was not yet forty at the time, was not totally faithful to my dad who was some ten years her senior. I had no proof, but a woman can tell the way another female, even if she is your mum, looks at other men can't she? And several times I'd thought that a tennis or golf coach, a man that did work in the house and even a pool attendant on holiday got the sort of look from her that said more than just thank you! That made me at times hate her almost as much as I loved my dad.

For all my life I'd been very much a daddy's girl. I'd always been able to twist him round my little finger and he was so indulgent and generous to me that it made some people really think I was a spoiled bitch, which, actually, I guess I am in many ways. I'd been so surprised when he'd refused to let me leave uni last term, for I was used to getting my own way with him and I was dreading telling him that I'd left. I didn't like to hurt him and really I wanted him to be proud of me. But somehow, I never quite seemed to have the moral fibre to do that. I didn't stick at things, I didn't push myself to excel and I didn't strive for excellence and achievement the way he did. Why not when I so wanted to please him? Who knows?

As a lot of people, rather uncouthly I've always thought, say I was absolutely "gobsmacked" at dad's reaction. Sure he ranted, of course he swore at me and told me how stupid I was and naturally, being a money-obsessed property developer, he threatened to cut off my allowance and almost my inheritance, but he didn't say no. He didn't, as I'd feared he might, totally and utterly reject what I had to say. No, amazingly, he took it quite well and basically said that it was my life, well what he actually said was, "It's your bloody bed you lie in it."

As he said that I met my mother's eyes across the room and we both smiled.

Chapter 3

But I get ahead of myself. I leave some business unattended to, some events not explained, some activities not fully described. I haven't covered all the important, character forming and life-style shaping things that happened to me during my last few months at university. I haven't, for instance' told you about me giving DD a blow job have I? And what can be more important, character forming and life style shaping than deciding whether to spit or swallow?

"Oh God Sam, that's fabulous," David moaned as my tongue ran the length of his erection. "Mmmmm, so good, it's so, so good," he continued as for the first time I performed oral love on a man.

Due to the odd sexual predilections of dirty Dicky, my first longer term lover, well six weeks is a fairly long time at eighteen, I'd been a late starter at really getting down to it. So it wasn't until I'd been at uni a year or so that a mouth found its way between my legs and my tongue slid between a pair of opened thighs. 

My starter, though late, for I was approaching my nineteenth birthday, was in many ways incredible. Not only did I that afternoon in a hotel bedroom find the joys and pleasures of oral sex but also I found the joys and pleasures of having and doing it with a woman. Yes, my initiation into making love with tongues, teeth, lips and mouth was with a woman, my lipstick lesbian lover Stephanie Gordon, an economics student and fellow member of the university drama club.

It had been a good month. I'd seduced a lecturer, David Deekins who helped the students run the drama club, I'd established a pattern of afternoon or early evening sex with him and I'd found the pleasures of sex with my own gender. Not bad for a four week period in winter!

David had been fucking me for a couple of weeks. Afternoon fucks mainly as we discussed the script for the play. It was really the only time we could both make it. He had lectures most mornings and tutorials most evenings, so it was mainly mid afternoons when we could fit each other in, or as I quipped one day, fit into each other! But that didn't bother me for I've always felt that afternoon sex is so much dirtier than at any other time, know what I mean?

Don't get me wrong it wasn't every afternoon. He had to do some work and I did have other demands on my time, mainly Steph actually, when I come to think about it! And of course as he was a lecturer, a married one at that, discretion was paramount, so I couldn't and didn't tell a soul, even Steph that he and I were a number and, of course, I couldn't just keep vanishing from my mates without some explanations could I? So my fling with David had to be kept under wraps.

Neither of us was under any illusions about where our "affair" was going; absolutely nowhere was the answer, we both knew that. He had a wife who worked and live in London. One of them would visit the other each weekend and often he'd go up for a night most weeks; it was only ninety minutes by train. His marriage was as important to him as his job and I knew, accepted and totally understood that I shouldn't sod up either. After all an affair with a man twenty years your senior is one thing, much else is just not on. I mean its fine twenty to forty isn't, but forty to sixty is a whole new ball game. So I was completely in tune with his requirements and was totally prepared to be what he needed. A fuckmate. And in the end that's what I wanted as well. A no strings older guy who in exchange for my relatively fresh youthfulness and, so I'm told, tight pussy, would teach me all I needed to know about sex. Seems fair to me even now!

I guess it was our third or fourth time. We'd gravitated from his sitting room and kitchen to the bedroom of his small bachelor pad in the old part of Bristol where I was hating university and studying English. He'd undressed me and we'd had sex. It had been quite quick and vigorous for we hadn't yet got used to each enough to be patient. As I went to the bathroom after having had a very nice climax I saw that I'd only left my flat forty minutes ago and it was at least a fifteen minute walk to his place. Talk about using time fucking efficiently!

I cuddled up to him on the bed after a quick shower. He was, as always, very tender, loving and considerate and we kissed and cuddled in almost a non-sexual way for some time. We had a cup of tea, as alcohol in the afternoons represented dangers for both of us, with some Lincoln cream biscuits and then he laid me back on the bed and licked my cunt until he made me cum twice.

So you see I was primed, I was ready and, I suppose, I felt obligated to return the favour. No that's not really true it wasn't an obligation I felt. Sure I wanted to please him, give him pleasure and be as intimate with him as he'd been with me. But it was more than that. It was almost like sexually consummating a relationship, well I thought so even though I hadn't consummated that many relationships. It's the next logical expression of sexual interest and commitment isn't it? We'd kissed and then fondled each other, undressed and touched each other sexually and then we'd had sex. Diversions from straight sex as like in differing positions, where it was done, adding danger with the chance of getting caught and now oral sex were logical extensions of a sexual affair weren't they?

We were both naked. I was lying with my head on his chest, his arm was round my shoulders, my hand was resting on his body just above his waist and my bent knee was resting on his leg. I hardly had to think about it, surprisingly, for I had worried at night sometimes when my sexual imaginations was running riot and my hands were following that as I imagined me giving head to a man. What would it feel like, what would it taste like, how far would I be able to get in, what the hell did I actually have to do and for how long, all troubled me? But then they would wouldn't they. There are no manuals on teaching one how to suck your lover's cock and you certainly can't go to evening classes to learn. No it's a classic case of on the job learning I suppose. 

And that's exactly what I did. 

I didn't tell him that it was my first time, after all I didn't want either, to show him how inexperienced was or, to scare him by making wonder whether I might bite him it too hard. 

Without hardly thinking I let my hand drift further downwards until it got to that line where the pubic hairs thicken. I pushed my fingers into the tighter curls and felt them touch the very hilt of his penis. I was, naively I suppose, quite thrilled to find that it was lying sideways across his left groin. It was in that not hard, but certainly not totally disinterested state. The condition where if circumstances so dictate it could happily go off to sleep, but, if required, it could be called upon to do its duty; men's cocks are such wonderfully versatile things aren't they?

I ran my fingers along its temporarily shortened length taking his foreskin with them on the return journey. David was the first man I'd been with who hadn't been circumcised. Remember there'd only been Kelvin, my virginity taker, Richard, the dirty, cheating sod that got off by shagging me in my school uniform, the nonentity in my first year and now DD, who'd shagged me, plus a few where we'd hadn't gone that far but where I'd held their cocks, perhaps two, maybe three. So to find a dick that had a sort of hood on it that could be pulled back and forth was strangely exciting. The problem was I didn't know when it should be back or when it should be mostly covering the bulbous, fiercely purple knob head; I'll play that by ear I thought!

As interesting and strangely exciting as it was to move that foreskin back and forth feeling him hardening and thickening as I touched and held it was even more so.

"Mmmmmm, nice, that's lovely," he was sighing as his hands stroked and gently pulled on my long, (real) blonde hair. 

I stroked and rubbed his genitals making sure to give a lot of attention to his scrotum as instructed by www.havinggreatsex.com a site that one of the girls studying social sciences introduced us all to. It was basically an advice service for younger women with a very active "sideline" in selling us naughty undies and porn films for girls.

I felt it growing and growing in my hands and that, together with the lovely low moans, sighs and grunts he was making made me feel fabulous. Is it the power, the pleasure you're giving, the anticipation of what's to follow or the sensations you're feeling that does that, I wonder? 

I may have wondered but didn't really care for my mind was now focused on just one thought, one realisation, and one objective. 

"I'm going to suck a man's cock," kept going through my mind. 

At last, at long, long last I was going to do it, going to give a man oral sex just as I'd given it to Steph in that hotel room; was that really just a week or so ago? Yes I felt that I was almost finishing my apprenticeship as a lover, was growing up as a woman and was about to cross such an important bridge in my sex career

My face was so close to the now full erection. I'd never been that close to one. I was so close I could see the veins, the way the foreskin was stretched by the size of the purplish coloured glans and the slight wetness on that. I was holding it so it was nearly at ninety degrees to his stomach and the top of it was above my face. I moved a little so that I could get my mouth to it and then in one foul swoop my tongue was running along its entire length. I licked his shaft from the very base, where it went into his scrotum, right up to the swollen tip sticking out from, what looked to be an impossibly, stretched foreskin. I did that several times. Each time I loved the way his body seemed to buck a little bit, his erection throbbed and such wonderful tremors of excitement went through my entire body. But, childishly, I felt I needed even more confirmation.

"Is that ok David?"

"Oh God yes, it's great," he moaned tugging on my hair, "just carry on please Sam, please."

I did.

But now I went the whole hog, the full monty. I wiggled my body a bit so I was laying on one side my face just touching his tummy, his erection just inches from my mouth. I was holding his shaft in one of my hands, revelling in the pulsating warmth that was filling my palm, and I was cradling his balls in the other. It all seemed to come so naturally and easily to me and I was beginning to relax; I felt so grown up and mature because of what I was doing.

I moved even closer to it. It was just an inch or so away, I opened my mouth and I tucked my tongue down a bit. I edged forward and watched fascinated as the bulbous head slid between my lips; I could hardly believe that at last I was having oral sex with a man. I wrapped my lips round it and then with a slithering movement I took David's cock as far into my mouth as I could. I held it in my throat for a moment or two and then slid my mouth up again so that it almost came out. 

My womanly instincts seemed to be guiding me, for intuitively I felt I knew what to do. Well it 'aint rocket science is it, sucking yer fella's dick? It doesn't take a genius to work out the key elements of the process as he effectively fucks yer face does it. A girl doesn't need a high intellect to work out that her mouth was, in effect, turning into a surrogate cunt, does she?

I moved my mouth up and down, licking sucking and slurping as I revelled in the feelings in my mouth. I adored the near convulsions in his body, his moans, grunts and sighs and the way his hand tugged at my hair and frantically, almost, roamed over my body seeking my breasts, my nipples, my thighs, my buttocks and my pussy and clit. 

Everything was seeming to merge together, yet at the same time there only appeared to be two things in our world, my mouth and his cock. It was as if all else had ceased to exist and there was now just one single purpose in life, me sucking David until I made him cum.

Hearing the noises he was making, feeling the increased pressure from his hands and noting the additional straining of his hardened flesh in my mouth I knew we were near, very near.

I took it right out and holding it near its tip I rubbed it just as if I was giving him a hand job. I licked all round the knob end and the slit in that making it wet with my spittle, but noting that there already was a dampness on it.

"Oh Sam, Sam, yes, yes I'm cumming, I'm so near," he croaked.

I sucked and licked it, loving the very evident tremors as his male equipment prepared itself to perform the tasks for which it was designed. I wasn't thinking or planning. I had no idea what I was doing, my mind was so befuddled by sex generally and sucking David's cock in particular that I hadn't though of where he was going to cum and whether I would swallow or not.

But that decision was taken away from me. As I slid my mouth up his hard length his body bucked and, whether purposefully or not I don't know, his cock slipped out of my mouth just as he started to cum. A jet of sperm shot from the end of it and splattered on my cheek. I could have moved before the second stream shot out but something stopped me and that also landed on my face. 

"Oh Sam, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he groaned trying to pull away.

I looked up at him knowing he'd see all the spunk on my cheeks and chin and lips.

"Don't be, it's ok," I whispered, meaningfully letting my right breast find the tip of his semen smeared cock. I rubbed that all over my tit and pressed it firmly against my hardened nipple.

I felt that now having found my lesbian lover and my older lover and having had oral sex both ways with each of them I'd learned all that university could teach me. 

I could now leave with no regrets whatsoever.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 07



If you've read the previous parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action

You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit? 

A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it. 

How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.

The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Chapter 1

I suppose we should have realised it would happen. I guess my lipstick lesbian lover and I should have worked out that there would be quite a reaction. We should have thought things through more carefully and recognised that our fellow students at the university in Bristol would react quite strongly. 

I mean, after all, when two moderately attractive, if I do say so myself, girls flash all their bits on stage what can you expect? When between them they do six nude scenes with an audience of three hundred each night for five nights there's bound to be some comeback isn't there? When they kiss and caress each other on stage their fellow students must inevitably think differently about the girls than before they saw them in all their glory, mustn't they? When two girls like Steph and I bare our breasts, our nipples, almost certainly hardened, our flat stomachs, slender thighs, and bushy pubes it's ridiculous to not anticipate that there'll be some comeback.

And of course there was.

There was leers as boys looked at us and stares from girls that were part disdainful, part sneering and part, I think, envious. We both got loads of wolf whistles and often shouted comments as well that were more directed to Steph such as, "come on show us yer tits." 

It had been the university drama club's Christmas offering, Joe Orton's classic, "What the Butler Saw" that had caused this. I'd been responsible for the script adaptation and for some extra scenes and David, the lecturer who I was having an affair with had been the director. It had been amazingly erotic to have him directing the lesbian scene I'd added. He didn't know that I was having fairly regular sex with Stephanie, the female lead in the play, and she didn't know I was having an affair with the married lecturer. So when he was telling Steph and I how to best act out the scene we needed little guidance really, for it was something we were already doing two or three times each week.

It was really only my sex with Steph and my affair with David that had kept me sane these past w weeks at university. I hated being there and at the end of the first year I'd tried to persuade my parents to let me leave, but they wouldn't. I could hardly believe that my dad, who I utterly adored, could be so mean to his "princess" and I'd thrown a massive month long strop that included not joining them on the traditional summer holiday at our house in Florida. That really pissed dad off. 

So I'd been forced to come back to uni in the October for the Christmas term. I still hated it but now there were a few compensations. I enjoyed the drama society, helping David with developing "What the Butler Saw", being shagged by him, learning all about Stephanie's great tits and making lesbian love with her.

I guess our notoriety actually started before the bloody play even ended its run for we began getting tons of e-mails. Mostly crude and often anonymous they asked the most intimate questions and related in the most minute detail just what the senders would like to do to us. That usually involved words such as cock, cunt, tits and ass often with all four being used in the same sentence.

"Look you clearly aren't shy about being naked, so why don't' you model for the art society," I was asked by one of the more sensible fine art students. I haggled around with him going through what a daft idea it was and putting forward, "why the hell should I?" sort of arguments. 

But somehow it struck a chord with me. For some reason the suggestion stayed in my head. I was a little intrigued and, I suppose, slightly excited by it. Why? God knows. Was it my exhibitionistic tendencies, that had affected me so strongly when I was nude on stage in the play, emerging again, I wondered? 

On top of that I was told they paid a hundred pounds for a session. Although my dad had given me a MINI Cooper S, paid the college fees and provided me with a flat that I shared with three others I was cash poor. I couldn't just pop out and buy a new dress or handbag and rarely did I have hardly any money in my purse. The odd hundred quid now and then sounded very tempting indeed.

Paraphrasing the words of an actor in a famous British sitcom, "I can't believe it," I said to myself. I couldn't believe what was happening; to me, my mind, my body and mostly to my breasts, well to be absolutely specific, my nipples. They were getting hard. Fortunately I was posed so that from where the students sat they could see my back and only a side view of one of my boobs. Nevertheless they could get up and move around a couple did gaze at my body from all angles

I started reciting the eight times table, I always had difficulty with that, and declining the French verb "to be" in an effort to take my mind off my tits.

I'd been sitting naked in front of the portrait group for twenty minutes or so. There was hardly any talking although they'd put on some weird, Indian type music in the background. They'd also lit some joss sticks and sweet smelling candles before I got there and most, or at least many, were smoking weed and a few were swigging from bottles, metal polish probably I thought, for none of them looked as though they had two pennies to rub together. Presumably all that was to increase the creative juices, but to me it was redolent of sixties films and seemed very much last year.

"Je suis, tu est, il est, elle est. Seven eights are, what the hell are they, oh yes fifty six, eight eights are, oh fuck I haven't the foggiest idea," I was saying to myself as the group looked at me and then recorded in charcoal what their weird minds were undoubtedly visualising. 

It was no good. They kept getting harder and harder. Now they were throbbing and a heat and a pressure was spreading from them and oozing through my body. 

"Nous sommes, vous etes," I said to myself knowing that it was hopeless for I was becoming turned on. I was aroused and excited. My thighs felt like jelly and inside my tummy felt as though it was on fire. Were their stares different now? Maybe that was the dope and the booze, I speculated. "Yeah right," I thought, "twelve horny art students looking at a naked model whose nipples were exploding in front of them and they'll think they're hallucinating!"

"Nine eights are seventy two and ten eights are easy, just add a nought." 

My breasts felt so full. I desperately wanted to touch them stroke them hold them and squeeze them, or, better still, have someone do that for me.

"What the hell's next? What's they are? Isn't there two, one masculine and one feminine? Now that's just the sort of thought I don't want I realised, cursing the French for bringing sex even into their grammar."

I was sure that rather tasty looking guy with the Zapata-like moustache could see my hardened nipples. I was sure the girl to my left with the hair down to her waist would notice that my breasts were full and hot and feeling as though they were swelling.

"Ils ont, elles ont, isn't? Oh I don't know I was never much good in any case."

"Ok, let's take a break, thanks so much Sam," the impossibly young looking lecturer, Tom, in charge of the portrait group was saying as he walked towards me holding up the silk dressing gown I'd been advised to bring with me.

We stood around chatting with a few of us, not many, having a cup of tea. It was quite an odd situation being in a dressing gown with fully clothed people all round me, especially when just moments before they'd seen my naked body and, I suspected my hardened nipples.

"I know it's your first modelling session Sam so are you ok going full frontal?" the lecturer asked me, rather tactlessly I thought as he said it quite loud so many of those others could hear.

I didn't know what to say at first, especially as when she heard that the girl with the long hair who'd been staring so intently, or so I thought, at my breasts, joined us. I was acutely aware of her long, long legs in the, what seemed to me to be, almost impossibly tight jeans and equally impossibly tiny top that showed off most of her rather saggy boobs. I hesitated giving her the opportunity to comment.

"Some models just can't do that Sam, but we all hope you will." 

As she said that she stared at me fairly intently. I couldn't tell and didn't really want to dwell on thinking about whether it was a look of invitation or one of her being stoned so I looked away and back at Tom.

"I think I'll be ok," I told him lighting a ciggie to calm my nerves.

Ok? Was I OK? I was in my fucking element. I was out of my mind and zapped up so much I wondered whether someone had slipped something in my tea. 

From the moment Tom posed me sitting on a pile of cushions my feet tucked under my bottom with me leaning back on my arms I came alive. 

From when he said, "would you undo the robe for us please Sam?" and stood back, not far enough really for he was just a couple of feet away from me, and stared at me as I stripped naked I was a different person. As he and the others gazed at my bare breasts, looked at my nipples and let their gaze sweep downwards to my pubes so I felt vibrant and alive. I liked it, I enjoyed it and I got one hell of a buzz from it.

I didn't cum. I don't suppose that's possible just sitting there being looked at is it? But I must have got near. I was wet, very wet, I could feel that and, of course, again my bloody nipples betrayed me, as they so often do! They were pulsating, they seemed like beacons or those flashing lights on top of a warning cone in the road. I was breathing heavier than I normally did and the blood seemed to be rushing through my body which felt as though it would soon catch light.

Fortunately, with most of them pretty spaced out on what they'd been taking, nobody seemed to notice, or if they did they said nothing. "Perhaps they're used to it," I thought as I got dressed behind the screen that had been thoughtfully provided in a corner of the room.

Chapter 2

Steph and I had just masturbated each other. It was nice; in fact it was bloody lovely.

We'd taken to doing that occasionally, especially when we felt tired and didn't have the energy to go full on with heads between legs and lips and mouths working overtime. We'd kiss and stroke each other as we eased our clothes off and then sat side by side on the sofa in my flat. 

We rarely had sex at her place as she lived in a massive house that she shared with, probably, ten others. It was just so frantic that the peace and solitude needed for successful sex never happened, so we either did it in my car, went to a hotel or, when my flat mates were out, at my place; that wasn't a very frequent luxury though. 

I'd lock the front door, just in case, but had no idea what I'd say if one of the others came home unexpectedly. I mean what sort of excuse would be plausible to them? Fortunately it never happened which I put down to careful choosing of when to do it.

Anyway we'd lie back on the sofa, my Marlboros, her joints, wine, vodka and glasses nearby with a large bottle of baby oil and some towels close to hand. We'd kiss and touch, fondle and lick, caress and suck each other as our hands started roaming over the other bodies. Eventually we'd end up mutually masturbating each other totally from the use of our fingers; it was nice, easy, relaxed and not at all messy!

This particular day my three flat mates had all gone out together in the early afternoon and had told me they wouldn't be home until late evening.

"Hi," I'd said to Steph on our mobiles, "I'll be alone all afternoon."

"Give me half hour and I'll be there to keep you company," she replied, immediately understanding my shorthand way of saying, "like to come and fuck me?"

I had a quick shower and toyed with the idea of not bothering to dress, for I knew she'd have whatever I had on, off me soon after arriving. I slipped into a mid-thigh length tee shirt dress. It was pale lemon, made of cotton and was fairly loose but clung to me in the places where a lover would like it to; yes my tits, hips and tummy. It showed quite clearly that I was naked underneath and it very loudly broadcast the message that I, along with most girls getting ready for their lover, wanted sex, in fact it roared out loud and very, very clear that I was ready to be fucked. And that was precisely the message I wanted to transmit and knew for sure that Stephanie, my now over six weeks, lipstick lesbian lover, would want to receive.

We kissed immediately I opened the door. Bodies touching from lips to toes, arms tightly round the other, breasts and stomachs squirming we edged our way inside Steph back-heeling the front door shut. Before she'd taken me in her arms and my eyes had closed as we kissed I'd taken in what she was wearing. Tight, tight, tight jeans that showed her legs off so well, clung to her pussy like a second skin and from previous viewing I knew moulded themselves to her glorious arse emphasising the rich roundness of her cheeks to perfection. On top, a simple white, scooped neck tee shirt. Well as simple as a tee shirt can be when it's carrying such a precious target as Steph's magnificent tits.

Before we'd made love I'd been curious about girls and often wondered, especially in the sixth form at school, what it would be like to make love to another female. Yes I'd been, what I now know is called, bi-curious for some time, but had done very little. Coming to university just at a time when lipstick lesbianism seemed to be everywhere was so fortuitous for me; it let my mind accept what my body had been craving about for ages and that I summed up as Steph's tits.

You'll have to forgive me if I wax lyrical for a while, if I stray away from the story and if I give vent to my inner feelings. You see I am physically and emotionally totally and utterly in love with Stephanie Gordon's breasts.

They're big and full and soft and smooth and absofuckinglutely lovely. I adore their handfilling fullness, the way they wobble as she moves, the slight sag as she stands, the way they lollop to one side when she lays on her back for me and the sight of them squashed as she lays on her front. 

I love doing everything to them; stroking, caressing, squeezing, pinching, gently scratching, licking, sucking, kissing and chewing. 

I wonder at how amazing they look when I press the two beautiful orbs together and I shudder with admiration and lust when I hold one and focus all my attention on that. 

And her nipples are to die for. Much larger than mine in circumference they have lots of little lumps on that feel so nice against the tip of my tongue. A beautiful coral pink in colour with a nice, large teat in the middle they are sensitive to her and so attractive to me. We play for ages pulling, and pinching, sucking and chewing the rubbery wonderfulness of Steph's tits and nipples.

Now mine aren't bad. Obviously by her standards they pall into insignificance in size, although they are a respectable, in most company, 32b to c. When up against, which they are now and then but nowhere near as often as I'd like, Stephanie's awesome 36 dd equipment then I really do feel a little under equipped. Having said that, and admittedly adoring the look and feel of large tits, I'm not sure I'd want them; it must make life very difficult in many ways, running for instance, and to have men continually leering at your chest must be a pain.

Her hands quickly confirmed what her eyes had suggested when she scanned them across my body. 

"Mmmmm you sexy little hussy," she groaned into my ear as she ran her hands up the back of the dress taking the hem with them. 

Her hands and fingers on my back and bum cupping my cheeks and slithering between them soon had me shuddering with need and quivering with expectancy. Of course as she was investigating my nudity I was reacquainting myself with her tits. , Outside, momentarily, her tee shirt, inside it and on her bra, in her bra, the tee shirt pulled down, the cups eased away and her glorious globes naked for my hands and mouth.

"Am I Steph? A sexy little hussy?" I asked as I slipped her erotically erect nipple into my mouth

"Yes and you know it," she replied pulling the hem of the short dress up until it was around my neck and shoulders, my entire body bared for her, naked for my Stephanie, nude and available for my lipstick lover.

We were both naked very quickly. I pulled away from her a little.

"Hi, why don't you come in?" I smiled taking her hand and leading her from the hallway of the flat into the quite large lounge.

"So kind of you to ask?" Steph laughed back, trailing her fingernails down my back and over the swell of my bum as she followed me. "I see you're well prepared," she continued nodding at the coffee table in front of the L-shaped brown leather sofa that dominated the room.

"Well you know me Steph, a real girl guide, be prepared for anything and everything," I replied as we looked at the bottles of wine, vodka and baby oil on the table.

Our bare hips and the outside of our legs were pressed tightly together as we sat side by side on the sofa. We turned the tops of our bodies towards each other and we stroked and caressed each others breasts and kissed and licked the others face. It was lovely. 

We followed the pattern we'd established the last few times we'd done this mutual masturbation thing. Letting our hands slowly roam over the others body we'd kiss each other on the mouth and then move, in turn, down to the others breasts. As one sucked and licked the others boobs and nipples the other one would run their hands through the others hair or each round and cup their breasts. 

It was all a bit mixed up and clumsy but gradually a pattern was established. Gradually the purpose was defined and the procedure made clear. Gradually one of my hands found its way between her legs just as one of hers slid between my thighs. Our other arm was round the others shoulder and we held and cuddled each other exchanging occasional kisses and delicious licks round the others face and mouth.

Steph had such a beautifully deft touch with her fingers that I desperately tried to copy. The very tips of her fingers slithered around my lips and along the slit between them now and then slipping just slightly inside. She repeated that several times making my juices go into free fall and giving me such delicious sensations everywhere. As she did that so I felt her feminine smoothness and womanly wetness on my fingers that were doing very similar things to her pussy. 




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 07



I find the feeling of a woman, well her really for Steph's was the only girl's pussy I'd ever touched, up to then, on my fingers to be so utterly sensual and so amazingly erotic that I could spend ages and ages just running my fingertips along that silky crevice. This action, immortalised by Sarah Waters in her awesome lesbian novel about Nan, was termed by her and became the title of her book, Tipping the Velvet. And what an apt term that is I thought, as my fingers sent messages to my brain that were then transmitted throughout my body. Messages of extreme arousal, sexual pleasure and anticipation from feeling her marvellous wet smoothness on my fingers.

Hers were becoming a little more urgent telling me that my caresses were working well on her. I didn't really need that confirmation from her any more than she needed it from me, for we were both exhibiting our pleasure and arousal in a variety of different ways.

The most obvious were.

"Oh shit Sam that's fantastic, it's absolutely fucking amazing."

"Yes Steph, there, right there."

Additionally we were kissing deeper, sucking on each others lips, squeezing breasts and pinching nipples and sighing, moaning and grunting as we built the feelings up in the other.

Looking back on those times I often wonder why we confined our sex to mutual masturbation so much of the time. We both enjoyed giving and receiving oral sex so why hold back from that? I think it was something to do with both of us being a little concerned that we might be starting to become a true, instead of a lipstick, lesbian. By not going that far and restricting our sex to kissing and touching and using our fingers to make the other cum subconsciously we might be reassuring ourselves on that point. Daft really, but then much of psychology is, for I would have very clear proof, usually the next day, on whether I was a lesbian or not when I saw David. And with his cock shoved as far down my throat or up my pussy as it could be, I had all the evidence I needed to overcome such doubts.

Steph knew, by instinct I suppose, just what I most enjoyed from a finger fuck. And she started doing that. Her fingers found the folds of the sopping, glistening, pink skin hood that cradles my clitoris. Gently pulling those away she exposed that little stalk of ultimate sexual pleasure and then began rubbing her fingertip gently yet persistently right round the base it; not right on it or squashing it down but alongside and around it.

I moaned and I clung to her tightly with my other arm. Without thinking or planning I pushed my fingers into her, suddenly and unexpectedly.

"Oooooooooo Sam," she grunted, her eyes closing, her mouth opening and her head falling back. 

I pushed further as her fingers became more insistent around my clit. She was losing her cool now. Steph's sophisticated, experienced les persona was changing. Her slow, rhythmical style, her gentle almost mechanistic way of building up the tempo went to the dogs as her arousal got to her. Her arm slid down my body so it was more round my waist and her fingernails dug into the flesh on my hip, hurting a little. She pushed her bum forward on the sofa so that her pussy was now past the edge giving my hand much greater access. She spread her legs even wider. She arched her spine and threw her head back and then shoved three or four fingers right up my cunt.

I almost screamed with the surge of white hot pleasure that roared through my body. It tore out from the tender, sensitive insides of my pussy to every part of my body. 

"God, yes, yes, oh fucking hell Steph yes, yes, yes," my frazzled mind instructed my voice to mutter, probably almost incoherently.

I pushed down on the pleasure giving, cock simulating digits in an effort to wrench every last bit of sensation from them as between Steph's thrusting fingers and my humping hips we began to finger fuck me. At the same my fingers slid into her. I turned my hand sideways and put my index and fourth fingers under my middle finger forming a pointed phalanx of fingers, just like a man's cock I thought as I too started to pump them in and out of my lover.

And like that we mutually masturbated each other until we were both panting, moaning, groaning, whining, sighing and hand fucking each other to a pair of wonderfully satisfying orgasms.

Chapter 3

"Almost" I replied as Steph and I lay naked on the sofa after we'd each cum several times.

"But then that was in front of three hundred or so wasn't it so I guess the buzz wouldn't be as great," Steph was saying when I told her about what had happened when I posed for the portrait group.

"No but it was still very strong. I just don't really understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why I should suddenly find being an exhibitionist such a turn on," I told her idly stroking her left breast as her hand cupped the right cheek of my bum.

"Well you could say the same thing with girls couldn't you luv? I mean you didn't know just what a turn on they can be 'til we had it off did you?" she asked, craftily sliding her fingers between my legs from the rear.

"That's true," I replied moving my leg to give her easier access. "But just what is it that turns me on so much when I have people staring at me when I'm flashing me bits?"

"It's probably just a passing thing, like this," she sighed her fingers running along my lips and finding my clit from behind.

"Mmmm well don't let that pass too quickly, it's lovely," I smiled back cupping one of her momentous breasts and easing her superbly hardened nipple between my teeth.

"It's all part of discovering yourself, Sam, finding out who you are, what you want and where you're going. Just like with us."

As we slowly started to make love again we also talked about our sexuality, what it all meant, why we went with girls, well in my case girl, hers I was sure meant several. It was freaky and wonderful at the same time having my lover turning me on with her fingers, lips and hands as we talked so deeply about sex. To have her fingers stroking my clit as she said:

"I know what it's like Sam to feel yourself getting wet as others look at your body;"

"I feel it so often as men and, more and more nowadays, girls as well stare at my breasts;"

"I know what it's like to cum, or almost as you pose for others."

Removing her nipple from my mouth and looking up into her beautiful green eyes I asked.

"How long has it been happening to you Steph?"

"Ever since I was young and when I did some photographic modelling," was her surprising reply.

I didn't have the inclination to take that further for both of us now had other more pressing matters on our hands. Well our mouths really, for as if responding to a cue we shuffled our bodies so that our faces were level with the others tummy; so that our eyes gazed at the smooth tapering flatness of the others and stomach; so that our mouths were near to the down covered mounds, our hands, lips, teeth and fingers were free to explore. To explore everywhere, on breasts, thighs, tummies and, of course between legs. Between legs on sodden lips, on velvety smooth pussies, on so sensitive clitorises and inside such warm and cloying laces. And explore those places we did. Endlessly almost, it seemed. Endlessly with our mouths and tongues and endlessly with our fingers and hands. Yes it seemed endlessly that Steph had her tongue deep in me as I licked furiously at her. And it felt an endless period that we both mouth fucked the others cunt until we were cumming and cumming and cumming.

I woke in Steph's arms my head nestled between her breasts. One of her nipples was close to my mouth and it looked just as if I was a baby suckling at a mother's teat? "What a teat," I thought smiling as I softly licked her nipple that, amazingly, even though she was sound asleep, was magnificently erect.

Somehow I knew this was the end. I felt it in my mind and body. Maintaining any relationship at such a distance as there would be once I left uni is always difficult. And it wasn't as though either of us were under any real illusions; we both knew it was really just a bit of fun with nothing else, other than great girl on girl sex.

Of course as we showered and she got dressed to leave we made out there'd be a future after tomorrow afternoon when I was planning to cram everything into my MINI Cooper S and leave. But neither of us had our hearts in it.

My parting words to her were.

"Thanks so much for everything darling, you just don't know how much you've helped me."

Little did she know just what I meant by that phrase. 



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 08



If you've read the previous seven parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read then I'd strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Part 8: The Unfinished Business At Uni

Chapter 1

My mother is a very self-confident woman; she has what Jewish people call chutzpah. Where I come from they call it being thick skinned or as bold as brass, I just feel she's got loads of balls. 

She's also got nice, full tits, a lovely bum and great legs. All of which I'd just seen when I inadvertently walked in on her and her personal trainer when I got home from university for the last time. 

I'd finally plucked up the courage to leave and was dying to tell mum for I knew my dad was on a business trip to China. I guess I needed a shoulder to cry on. What did I get? A view of her half naked kneeling in the room behind the garage that dad had turned into a gym. Kneeling with the top of her leotard pulled down, the straps dangling her tits completely bare. Kneeling facing a guy who had his back to me and his blue tracky trousers round his ankles. Kneeling holding his erect cock in her hands, looking as if she was about to bend over and suck it.

Our eyes had met, but nothing had been said as I turned and quietly closed the door.

I was in the conservatory when I heard her footsteps across the patio. I was reading Hello magazine and did nothing to acknowledge her when she breezed in. After all what can you say to your mum when you've just seen her about to fuck a guy? Although I hadn't see him clearly and then more from the side and back than the front, he looked to be about ten years younger than her; which would make him around ten years older than me.

"Hello darling," she said brightly bending over and kissing me on my cheek, "welcome home."

"Yeah right," I replied rather sullenly not knowing how to handle the situation and whether I should say something about what I'd just seen or whether she would.

I saw that she was now in grey track suit with pink stripes on it. The trousers were tight round her hips and bum and the top was undone showing that she was wearing tennis top; a tight, pink top that was cut low showing off her spectacular cleavage.

"Give me an hour darling and then we'll have a nice long chat," she said checking her appearance in the mirror. "I've just started with a new tennis coach and he's ready to get going on my lesson. Oh here he is."

I felt rather than saw his presence in the open doorway and was set to ignore him when mum said.

"Rick, this is my daughter, Samantha. Samantha my tennis coach Rick."

It seemed to take an age for my head to turn and for the sound of his "hello Samantha," to reach me. An age when I hoped against hope that it wasn't him; it was though, of course. 

He went on, "oh we know each well Amanda," adding with a slight smile and a glint in his eye, "very well."

"Really?" my mum asked, "and how's that?"

"From the tennis I belonged to," I said quickly hoping to avoid any further remarks from him.

"Yes we played together many times," he smiled looking from mum to me and back again. "Didn't we Sammi?"

"Yes a few," I replied trying to sound disinterested, but wondering and worrying about this bizarre turn of events.

My mum was having tennis lessons, and God knows what else, for I was thinking that probably the personal trainer I'd seen her with was Rick. The guy of thirty something who'd been my second proper lover. The guy who'd taught me so much. The guy that used to have me on the bonnet of his car, on the back seat or on the ground alongside it. The guy used to fuck me in my school uniform had spent most of the night in this house and had shagged me twice on the very kitchen floor just behind where she was standing.

They went off across the garden to the tennis court. My mind was in a whirl. He'd had me many times, was he screwing my mum as well? Had he told her about me? Was he the personal trainer as well? I tried to picture the cock I'd seen in my mum's hands. Was that Rick's or dirty dicky's as I called him after we broke up? Where the hell would all this lead I wondered as I heard the tennis balls start to be hit on the court at the end of the garden.

Chapter 2

Although I hated university I had learned a lot. Not academically of course, but about myself, life in general, my sexuality and sex. I'd also discovered a love of the theatre and of writing.

I found the bi curiosity that had been with me through my teens was transferable into reality. I discovered the appeal of older men and realised that I was a latent exhibitionist. Not a bad portfolio for eighteen months at uni, my degree on me and life I called it.

I'd met Stephanie shortly after starting at Bristol and although she was a year ahead of me we got on well as fellow members of the drama society. I would never have thought it possible but gradually I fell in love; not with her, but with her tits. They were awesome and did such things to me when I looked at them that at times I wondered how I stopped myself from grabbing them. Later when we were lesbian fuckbuddies she told me that she wished I had, so then I did and often. 

It was Steph that showed me in the most graphic way that my curiosity about bi was more than just an interest for we became lovers and had been seeing each other for that reason a couple of times a week since the Christmas term had started last October, some two months ago now. 

In previous parts of my bio I've described them, her tits that is, and I've told you about dirty dicky, my mum's tennis coach, so if you haven't read those it might be worth looking back at them to save us both time here.

So if you've looked back and read Parts 1 to 6, or at least a selection of them, you'll have met Mr Deakins, David the lecturer who helped out the drama society, the director of "What the Butler Saw," DD my lover, the married, forty year old man who'd had been fucking me two, three and four times a week for the past few months. It was David that showed me that my theoretical interest in older men that had been triggered by dirty dick was alive and well and living rampantly in me in Bristol.

The last night of the play was just a week before I left. There's always a buzz after a show, particularly one that's as outrageous and as successful as ours had been and at that last night party we'd all been on a high. Steph and I had carried that high on a bit in the small dressing room we shared when we'd quickly brought each other off. Still in our stage costume she'd pushed my little hot pants down my thighs and I'd opened up her buttoned down the front dress and we'd played with each other until we both climaxed. It was lovely and just what was needed to bring us down from the huge adrenaline rush brought on by the euphoria of the evening's proceedings.

It was then that there was a knock at the door and DD came in to congratulate us. Neither of them knew about the other being my lover so it was quite a challenge when the three of us were together. Because of DD's position as a lecturer and that, theoretically at least, meant fraternising with the students, (oh, by the way, for fraternising read screwing) was taboo and a dismissible offence, we had to be ultra discrete. I hadn't told a sole about my "married lover" not even Steph. I also hadn't in so many words told him about her and me; although when he directed the lesbian scene we'd added to Joe Orton's scandalously sexy masterpiece, I think he may have guessed.

"You and Steph seem to cope well with the lesbian scene," he mentioned one afternoon just as I was taking my knickers off.

I smiled back as I dropped them on the floor and stood naked in front of where he was sitting on a sofa. "Yes, it's been surprisingly easy, but so far there's just been the three of us, I'm not sure how we'll do when we've got an audience of three hundred," I replied sitting naked on his lap and shoving my tongue down his throat.

The scene he was referring called for us to kiss in full view of the audience and to then undress as we stood on opposite sides of the bed. We gave the audience a full frontal of each of us and then got into the bed and rolled around under the thin sheet. Whilst hopefully quite sexy it was actually fairly funny as well, or so we hoped l. As it happened the scene worked perfectly to the point that by the third night of the five night run the play, we started making real love under that sheet.

But all that was then and this was now, so after chatting for a bit he suggested a late supper in town, showing clearly that he was basically a London animal and didn't get out much in Bristol; there's nowhere you can get a "late supper" after 10.00 pm. That's when he'd suggested "Maison Deekins for scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and champagne," the perfect last night late supper.

We got a cab to DD's flat in the best part of the old town. It was on the ground floor and had a private entrance that enabled the discrete entrance of his visitors; I often wondered if that was why he'd chosen the place! The flat was really just two rooms and a bathroom. The front door led into a big oblong room that served as a kitchen a dining area and at one end a sitting area where there was a big comfy sofa that was wonderful to make love on. It was also where he'd first had me. Off that room there was the bathroom and his bedroom where, funnily we rarely had sex.

Steph and I had changed out of our stage costumes before leaving. She was wearing a white, silk blouse that, for the sake of decorum, was probably had one button too many undone. But hey, sod decorum, we were young, students, successful actresses and we'd just played full parts in a hit play; why should we even think of decorum? She was as usual wearing jeans as we all did. Hers, like mine, were fashionably tight and they wrapped themselves around her mound and bum like a second skin. I was wearing a skinny knit sweater that left a band of bare flesh around my waist; the fashion of bare bellies and low cut jeans, skirts or trousers was just coming in and I had to be leading edge with my style? I mean that's the point of life for spoiled bitches from Essex isn't it?

David opened the champagne and toasted us, we toasted him and we all toasted each other. We toasted the success of the play, the other actors, the director, him, and, as Steph put it, "especially the scriptwriter who brought a whole new meaning to what the butler actually saw."

We all laughed at her obvious reference to the lesbian scene I'd inserted. David added, giggling, clearly a little squiffy.

"Not just what he saw but what we all saw and that was fantastic," he said his eyes roaming over Steph's chest and body.

We were all a little drunk from what we'd had at the party and the champagne so we were saying things that didn't make full sense but seemed cool, witty and meaningful as we said them.

I looked at David and then stared right at Steph's chest as I said.

"Yes David they are fantastic aren't they? But then you've seen a lot of them haven't you?"

As we were quite unselfconsciously discussing Steph's, tits she bent over away from us her glorious arse staring DD and me in the face. She was rummaging through her bag and then she stood up the tin in her hand that I knew held her spliffs. Without asking she lit one up and looking David in the eye passed the joint to him. 

I had no idea whether he indulged or not but clearly from the way he held the ciggie and dragged on it, smoking dope wasn't a new thing for him. He went to pass it to me but I shook my head and indicated for him to return it to Steph. 

We all sat down. Steph and David on the sofa with me sprawled on the floor in front of it. They passed the spliff back and forth as I finished off the champagne. Steph had pulled her legs up onto the sofa. One she laid across David's lap the other she held bent, her bare foot resting on the edge of the sofa her toes running up and down the back of my neck. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that DD was stroking her foot. I reached up and ran my hand up the inside of his leg, not right up, but far enough I guess to show her that I had a slightly greater interest in and familiarity with him than merely as the director of the play. 

We'd all lost our tongues, for nothing was said as DD stroked her foot, Steph caressed my neck and shoulders with her toes and I ran my fingers up and down DD's inner thigh as we all looked on, as we all saw what the others were doing and as we all wondered what might happen next.

His voice slurred David asked whether we'd like another drink and Steph, giggling replied.

"Fuck the drink let's have another spliff and this time make little Sammi have one."

"Good idea," David slurred, "all three do it."

"Yes," Steph came back all for one, one for all like the three musketeers."

"What like a spliff threesome?" David almost shouted. We all found that hilarious.

As this was going on DD was standing up; my hand was still resting on his leg, Steph's foot was entwined between his knees. The complications of those and the drink and dope made him stumble and he fell back onto the sofa almost on top of Steph.

"Ooooo, Mr Deakins, I never knew you cared," she giggled her arms, seemingly automatically, going round him.

"With what you have Ms Gordon and what I've seen, how could I not care?" he responded. 

They both found their exchange enormously funny and were howling with laughter as I knelt on the floor beside them, also laughing but not with the manicness that hash brings about.

"What on earth do you mean by that?" Steph asked adding, "What have you seen?"

David slurred back. "Everything Ms Gordon, everything and all of that, I have to say, looked in excellent order when I saw it and now I can add also feels in excellent order as well."

Reaching out and holding my hand Steph giggled back. "You mean my tits do you sir?"

"Well if you have to be technical," he replied, "yes Ms Gordon, your tits."

We all found that particularly funny and were roaring with laughter as she pushed him off from on top of her. David rolled from the sofa onto the floor next to me. He put his arm round me and pressed himself against me. If Steph hadn't realised earlier that there was something going on between him and me then she must have begun seriously wondering now.

She looked from me to him and back again. She had that coy, knowing rather mischievous smile on her face that I'd come to know so well, for it illustrated her arousal and her desire to have sex. So far I'd only seen it directed towards me and I have to admit to a little pang of jealousy when I saw that now she was also directing it at DD. Yes a slight feeling of jealousy but that was vastly outweighed by the excitement that hit me when I realised just where this was possibly, no probably leading.

Steph sat up and looking at both of us said very softly.

"These?"

That simple, single word and what she did next was at the time probably the most erotic experience I'd ever had. 

I watched sort of mesmerised as glancing from David to me and back again she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse. One by one she slipped the four or five remaining buttons undone. Not saying a word or giggling at all she continued staring at both of us as she pulled the bottom of the blouse out of her jeans. Obviously most of her chest was now on view but her nipples were still covered by the edges of the blouse. It made me feel enormously horny as, with my body pressed against David, his fingers digging into the flesh on my hip, we watched Steph pull the edges of the blouse away from each other and slide it off her body.

I felt David's body shudder and heard a gasp as he saw her bare breasts. In the semi-darkness they looked fantastic. As big as they'd ever looked, they hardly seemed to sag at all. They looked so full and smooth and round and soft, yet firm and proudly upright; and of course they were capped by those so suckable, fully inflamed and totally erect nipples.

At that moment I wanted her so badly, but as I felt that, so David rested his hand right on my thigh and pushed it upwards so it was pressing against my pussy through the jeans. That made me want him so badly as well. I wanted them both and I could see in Steph's eyes that she wanted me and could feel from DD's hands pressing right against my pussy that he wanted me; did they, I wondered, want each other as well?

On reflection, it was clearly the time when a lot had to be exposed, no not flesh, but truths; the real situations between us had to be explained and decisions had to be made. In our alcohol, dope and sexually aroused states, though, the thinking wasn't like that. Nothing was fully considered, we didn't think of all the angles or analyse the consequence of any actions. We didn't think of possible future repercussions or give consideration to the discretion that DD's position as a college lecturer demanded and Steph and I didn't give a jot about exposing our bi sexuality to him. 

It was all so intuitive, instinctive and played by gut feel. It felt natural, proper, correct, appropriate and so fucking wonderful. It didn't seem wrong, perverse, abnormal or out of the ordinary. It was as though it happened all the time to everybody. Our mutual thinking in that room at the time, we found out later was, "if it feels right, it is right."

So it was right for Steph to sit on the sofa topless her hands slowly going to her breasts.

It was right for David to press his hand more firmly against my mound through my jeans.

It was right for me to reach up and run my hand along the inside of Steph's leg.

It was right for David to slip his hand up my sweater and cup my bare breast.

It was right for me to press against his erection with my other hand, for Steph to be pinching and pulling her nipples and for David to lift my skinny knit sweater up so that I too was baring my breasts.

Everything was right but everything was blurred. Everything happened through a mist of dope and booze but that just made everything even more right.

Me kissing Steph, me taking David's hand and placing it on her breasts.

"Aren't they gorgeous David?" I whispered as I unzipped him.

Steph kissing me deeply, me getting David's splendid erection out from his trousers and all of us falling to the floor, DD between us.

"Yes Sam, yes Stephanie, they are beautiful, marvellous," he muttered as Steph pulled his face towards them.

David sucking her nipples, Steph reaching out for my breasts and me struggling his trousers and boxers off.

"Mmmm David, that's wonderful, I've needed that all night," Steph groaned as she pinched my nipples in turn.

David was naked, Steph and I still had our jeans on and all of us were merging into one. I could no longer tell exactly where I ended and Steph and David began, what was him and what was her, who was touching me with mouth or fingers. Male became female, female became male and both coincided to be just one thing, pleasure.

EDITED

And what pleasure, what sheer unadulterated, erotic pleasure. A type and level of pleasure I'd never experienced.

The pleasure of Steph and David removing my jeans; of me holding his cock in one hand and one of Steph's tits in the other as David removed her jeans. The pleasure of sharing such intimacy with my two lovers, of sharing such erotic moments, such sexual stimulation and of having them share me, Steph and me share David and David me share her, of each of us sharing each other.

I'd never had a threesome; I'd never had any form of sex where more than one person was involved. Unlike numerous friends I'd never even had sex in a room or car with other couples there. So this was all new to me, although I somehow doubted that it was to either DD or Stephanie. Whatever their situation, though, I found the whole thing such a mighty turn on. Slightly confusing at times and in some ways not quite as sexually satisfying as making love to one person, it was nevertheless so exciting, so arousing, so erotic and so horny that I was near to an orgasm all the time. It was simply amazing




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 08



To be kissing Steph as David ran his hands over her body and crushed his cock against my bum was amazing.

To be kissing David as Steph ran her hands over his body and pressed her breasts against me was amazing.

To see David and Steph kissing, though a little worrying at first, as I ran my hands over their bodies and squashed mine against them in turn was amazing.

To experience each other, to establish a method of the three of us combining to make love was amazing.

And as we became attuned to each other and completely lost our inhibitions, it became even more amazing.

To have David's cock in my mouth as Steph pressed her tits against his face and caressed me at the same time was more than amazing. 

To see him slip his head between her legs and lap at the pussy I'd sucked so many times as both Steph and I kissed, licked and sucked him and each other was more than amazing.

To have Steph lick me, for me to lick her and to watch her take David in her mouth and then between her wondertits was more than amazing.

The extreme pleasure and the amazing feelings and sensations just went on and on and on. It wasn't until the next day that we realised that we'd made love, on and off between naps, all through the night. 

But that's getting ahead of myself. That's skipping over so much that happened, so many moments of incredible and unique, to me at the time, excitement, so many new sensations, so many new visions of tremendously graphic erotic intensity and so many sheer horny three-way exchanges.

My memories, though, are that a girl, girl, man threesome is so much more than just penetrative sex. It transcends the mood and atmosphere of two person sex for the emotional reactions are so different. I was sharing my man; I was also sharing my woman. They were finding each other, sharing me, indulging me but in some ways seeming to want each other more than either alone wanted me; the grass usually is greener isn't it? And as I saw them touch, kiss, suck and grind their bodies together I was jealous and so aroused at the same time. Now and then it felt as though I was an interloper, but fortunately, probably due to them both having been in threesomes before, they realised that and went out of their way to make sure I was continually included.

So when David sucked Stephanie, she pulled me to her and kissed and caressed me. When she took his cock or balls into his mouth he licked my nipples and ran his finger around my pussy. But I knew and could continually feel the powerful vibes between them. As I told you right at the beginning of this bio I am sexually a little odd. And this was being illustrated by my feelings as David and Stephanie moved closer and closer to fucking each other.

I began to enjoy the jealousy, it changed from that to a different type of excitement to any I'd felt before. Perhaps it was in its own way comparable the way that the pain of being spanked or anally penetrated turns to pleasure and excitement at some point, or so I'm told. As my emotional make-up coped with the feelings of being a little redundant and left out I found an enjoyment, a pleasure and a thrill at being the facilitator. Of being the synergy that was causing far more to come out from this three- way fuck than was being put it. 

Yes, as Steph went down on David I thrilled at holding his cock at the right angle for her mouth to anoint it. As she slurped her lovely, full lips up and down his rigid shaft I enjoyed stroking her face and cradling his balls. As she licked her way up and down his, now glistening, cock and as he ran his hands through my blonde and her strikingly black, hair I revelled in taking his balls, firstly one by one and then all together into my mouth.

And as David licked his way round Steph's pussy so I felt proud and fully involved to hold her long, slender legs up and apart as I licked and kissed them. I held her breasts for him to suck and kiss and proffered mine for both and either of them singly and together to do whatever they wanted with. I cradled David's face as he sucked my lips and clit and I held Steph's as she sucked eagerly and so enthusiastically on my tits.

But all this was just a prelude, just a build up, just the preliminary and just the support acts to the top of the bill attraction. Yes our tongues on and up each others most intimate places, all the sucking of his cock and of our pussies, the fingers everywhere and the urgent intimate caressing, squeezing, pinching and even gentle scratching was not what this was really all about. Foreplay and discovering each others pet likes and dislikes, even though we found few of those, was not the big issue, was not the main theme or the top of the agenda subject. All those things played their part, had their importance and made an impact. Initially at one level and later at a much higher one but until one important scene was played out threesomes where two of the characters have not made love to each other before are not a full threesome. No until those two have fucked each other the essential nature of triolism, all three making love together and simultaneously, rarely happens.

So as we inexorably moved towards the final act of the initial stages I was again playing my supporting role, my facilitation position, my assistant to the main players. Yes, as David hovered over Steph, his body from the waist down between her opened legs I was holding his cock and guiding it into her cunt.

Seeing my lesbian lover being fucked by my male lover was incredible. I'd obviously never seen a woman get fucked before or a man fucking and it was wonderful to watch, almost like a ballet of immense erotic proportions. 

At first I just sat beside them and watched. To be truthful I could easily have remained like that throughout the entire lovemaking, perhaps occasionally stroking my breasts or touching my pussy. I was enthralled by everything. The movements of his body, the surging, the thrusting, the tightening and loosening of the muscles on his back, legs and bum: by her hands running up and down his body, squeezing, rubbing, caressing and then, as the intensity increased, pulling at cheeks and pushing and probing between them: the sounds; his grunts, her moans, their sighs and the slurping squelches of his hardness against her soaked softness: and the looks of pleasure, excitement, anticipation, want and eventually satisfaction when they cam together. Everything interested and enthralled me and I Ioved every moment.

But of course I didn't just sit there. I wasn't just a spectator or voyeur I was a participant. So I kissed Steph, I held her hands, stroked her face and ran my fingers through her hair as I helped her through, the early build up to and the crescendo of, her orgasm. I also gained my pleasures. I held her breasts, pulled her face to my tits, ran my hands and mouth over David's body and pressed myself against both of them.

"I'm cumming Steph, I'm cumming, are you ready," David asked in his typically considerate way.

"Yes, yes, cum David fuck me hard, I'm cumming," she moaned back her hand squeezing mine so tightly as if saying thank you Sammi, I'm not stealing, just borrowing David's wonderful cock.

And cum they did, together, noisily, massively and so wonderfully to look at.

David had two more orgasms that night. Once when he fucked me an hour or so later and again early the next morning when it was just getting light, when Steph and I together sucked him. The third time was rather hard, but nevertheless rewarding work, for he splattered his cum over my face and Stephanie's boobs; and what a wonderful sight it was to see my lesbian lover's tits smeared with my older male lover's cum!

True three-way sex, though, isn't all about cumming. It's not about how many orgasms or who fucks who. It's about sharing; it's about oneness, making it feel as if the three bodies have merged together. It's about there being four tits, two cocks and two cunts, but no one owns them. Steph's tits and pussy were just as much David's and mine as mine were theirs. David's cock belonged to all three of us, so as Stephanie sucked it, she also sucked my cock; for just as David had tits, nipples and a pussy so both Steph and I had hard, hot thrusting cocks. 

True three-way sex also isn't just about sex. Not just about the, what you do, how many times and how many climaxes. It isn't about just taking and giving, screwing sucking, shagging and fucking. It's mainly about love. Not that everlasting Mills and Boon stuff. Not the, "it hit me like an electric shock" sort of love and not the "I could never go with anyone else" sort of love. No, it's more the 60's type of love, one love all love, hippy love, Woodstock and Haight Ashbury type of love. Passing love, love for the moment, transitory love.

Yes, when you are naked rolling around on a bed with two lovers, you need to love them, they need to love you and between the three of you there needs to be a stream of powerful feelings of love. During the three way sex they need to be the most important people in the world; they need to be your entire world, your sole reason for being, your comrades, fellow travellers and bedfellows. As you experience the amazing highs of having sex with two other people at the same time they have to be your lovers, you have to give them your total commitment, attention and consideration forsaking all others but not until you die, just until you leave that threesome 

And it was in that fashion that we spent the rest of the night.

Once David and Steph had made love the modest pangs of jealousy on my part went away. The need by them to deeply investigate each other stopped, the way they were more concerned with each other than with all of us vanished and they were as into three way sex as I was.

I guess I orally fucked Steph as I'm sure she did me. I assume David made love to her cunt as he probably did to mine and it's most likely that several times both of us loved his cock with our mouths. I know I had hands and mouths all over my body and that my mouth savoured the warm wetness of Steph beneath her waist and the full softness of her above it. I certainly had both David's hardness and when from time to time he lost his erection, his softness as well in mouth, often sharing that delight with Stephanie. But again, what anyone actually did to anyone else, was rather irrelevant. It was what we did together, what we learned together and what we experienced together that made this the true and full threesome that it was.

We talked about "we must do it again sometime;" but we never did, or haven't yet, maybe. After all when you've experienced perfection, as I think fortuitously I did that night, why try to beat that? 



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 09



If you've read the previous eight parts you'll know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them I'd strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Part 9: Back Home and a New Life

Chapter 1

"Ok love, can you take the panties off now please?"

My hands were shaking so much I literally couldn't at first, but then I managed to pull myself together. I slowly slid the black lacy thong down my legs, stepped out of it, bent over, picked it up and placed it on the table to one side, just as I'd been taught.

I felt so nervous, so very, very nervous that for a moment or two I wondered whether I could go through with it.

As I looked straight ahead it wasn't just nerves that I felt. In addition to those I could also feel the atmosphere in the room changing. It was now heavy with sexual expectation and laden with erotic anticipation. Everything was focused on me, concentrated on my naked body, my bare breasts, my nipples, my bum, my thighs, my pussy and pubic mound. I felt so vulnerable, so alone, so exposed, so embarrassed; I also felt so fucking aroused it would have taken hardly anything to make me cum.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, a quiet low moan and a shuffling of feet, but nothing was said, no words of encouragement, praise or support. No, the ten male photographers simply stared at me as I stood before them totally nude waiting for their instructions.

Chapter 2

Things at home, now I'd left university, were not at all as I'd anticipated or hoped. They weren't like they were before when I was still at school, but then things do change don't they? They especially change between a mother and daughter when the latter has seen her mum holding a young man's cock in her hand and bowing her head in preparation to, presumably, sucking it. It's inevitable that things will change when the daughter has seen the mother kneeling bare breasted across from that young man, her personal trainer, her tennis coach and the daughter's one time lover. It was tough for me to relate to my mum in the way I once had now I knew for certain, what I'd suspected for some time, that she liked to fuck young men. But then, hey, to each their own, I suppose.

Dad was much moodier and sharper with me and mum than ever, maybe having also found out I sometimes speculated, and continually had a go at me for leaving uni. There were loads of remarks along the lines of.

"All the money you've cost."

"Throw such opportunities away."

"Should want to make something of your life."

"I try to give you what I didn't have and look what you do."

There were loads of rows and lots of bitchiness between him and me and him and mum. He seemed to be working harder and longer than ever and she seemed to dress younger and younger. She was spending more and more time playing tennis, having lessons and working out with her personal trainer, or, as I suspected fucking him. It wasn't a nice atmosphere as it always had been before I left for college some eighteen months ago.

The worst thing, though, from my point of view was that he cut my allowance down to almost nothing.

"How am I supposed to live on that?" I snarled at him when he announced what he was doing.

"Get a bloody job like all college drops outs have to."

I'd tried explaining that I couldn't work out what I wanted to do and didn't just want to get any job, but something that interested me.

"You should have thought of that before you walked out then shouldn't you?"

Mum did try and help. But that was just by slipping me the odd fifty quid now and then. She wasn't, as she'd never been, really that much help with advice and guidance. But then when a mother knows that her daughter has seen her with her tits out holding a guy's erect cock in her hand, moral guidance is difficult to dispense I guess.

I did try to get jobs and I even managed to get a few over the first six months after leaving Bristol. I worked in a PR agency and in a publishing company; I did some bar work and got a job as a sales executive training to sell Porsches. But I just couldn't settle down. I was restless, got bored easily, found it crazy that I had to work forty hours a week for such a pittance; a sum that could hardly buy me a good dress let alone a full outfit.

At one of the agencies I registered with I did, though, meet Adam. He was a thirty something aspiring actor who I bumped into at one of the interview coaching sessions the agency laid on to help us get jobs. We were paired up in a role play that was suppose to make me better at being interviewed; in fact all it did really was make me better at pulling men, Adam in particular..

I rarely go for a guy's looks, but Adam was absolutely drop-dead, fucking gorgeous. We hit it off right away. We worked well together in the role-play, we laughed at the same things, we didn't, unlike most of the others, take it too seriously and we built an instant rapport. We finished the role-play, chatted in the agency, went for a coffee, stayed for dinner and drinks and then went to his flat and fucked each other all night long.

This was quite some diversion for me. Although I have a great interest in sex and hold no moral views on what's right or wrong and how long a "nice girl" should resist a guy's advances I'd never had a proper one-night stand and had never, also slept with a guy after knowing him for such a short time. 

It wasn't really that I was too concerned about being thought by a man to be easy, for generally I couldn't care less what he thought. It was more that I just wasn't that interested enough in sex; more that I'd never met anyone who intrigued or excited me enough to bother; more that I simply wasn't that concerned with sex to feel the need. Why I slept with Adam that first time I still don't know? Something different, a first time for everything I suppose, but then he was drop dead gorgeous so that may have had a bearing as well.

It was Adam that put the idea into my head, along with putting several other parts of him into several parts of me.

"You like English, you enjoyed doing the play at uni why not go to college for the theatre?" he suggested one afternoon as we lay naked on his narrow bed in his room near Russell Square.

"I couldn't stand the rejection of being turned down at auditions," I replied, idly stroking his cock that just moments ago had been shagging me.

"I didn't mean that, I meant the production side of it," he explained pinching my nipples as his erection returned.

After we'd done it again he explained in more detail. 

A day or so later I met him at the college that was not far from his bedsit in Bloomsbury. He introduced me to the administrator who explained about the three year course the college offered in stage and film production. From the moment it was explained to me I was hooked and I knew that was what I wanted to do.

I hung around with Adam and his group of friends for a few weeks as I found out more about the course, including the price, which was horrendous. I went to several parties with him, meeting a number of his friends who were also at the acting school, where, as it happened, he did some teaching. 

I sort of got in and felt very in tune with this acting fraternity; I felt at home with them and I loved it. I guess there were ten or so of us that met quite often.

"I do some modeling," to help pay for it one of the girls told me one night when a group of us were in a bar just off the Kings Road in Chelsea. 

She went onto explain that she did glamour modeling for amateur photographic clubs. She explained that there were clubs like that all over London and that most of them would have a club night or afternoon most weeks where they would hire a model for their members to photograph.

"It's mainly underwear stuff, but of course there's topless and nude as well," she advised, adding with a wink and a smile, "and of course you can always offer extras if you like."

This was in my mind when dad agreed that I could go to the stage school. I remembered that Steph had said she'd also done some modeling when she lived in London so I rang her. She gave me the number of a woman, Sandra, who'd helped her a lot.

"I think she now owns a couple of studios with her husband, but I don't think they're still together," she explained.

"Do you reckon she'll be interested in me Steph?" I asked.

"Oh yes, of course Sammi, she'll be interested, I can promise you that," she said in a strange tone before adding, "I'll phone her and tell her all about you."

"Perhaps not all Steph," I said pretending to be stern, "after all some things should be just between us so maybe just my good points eh?"

"Don't worry Sam, Sandra will know what I mean and yes I'll tell her about your good points, after all nice tits are essential for topless and nude modeling aren't they?"

"You'd know all about that Steph, with what you carry around," I laughed.

"Well Sandra liked them and I'm sure she'll simply adore yours. Got to go though lover, come and have me soon please."

So I had a plan that was starting to come together that would help me get to the stage school. At first that had seemed unlikely for my dad had stated, very firmly.

"Until I see you're going to stick at it, I'll pay half and you pay the other half," he told me.

Little did he know just how his "little princess" would be earning that money. 

Chapter 3

I'd made contact with Sandra who I had a studio in East London and had been to an audition with her. She'd explained that she and her husband owned four studios and that they were the main booking agent for models for most of the camera clubs in and around London. Over the phone I'd told her I'd done some modeling; "mainly for artists actually" I explained somewhat embellishing the posing I'd done for the fine art students at university. She'd replied that Stephanie had called and had said some great things about me.

"Well you sure have the looks," the probably forty something tall, slim, short dark haired, quite attractive, but rather severe looking woman told me when I met with her at her office cum studio. It was in an area that had recently been gentrified and was now very trendy and popular. 

"And it looks like you've got the figure," she went on rather off-putting running her gaze up and down my body.

She led me into the studio and told me stand before what I thought was a white wall. It wasn't until later that I realised it was a sheet of white paper pulled down from a huge roll hung from the ceiling and that there was a variety of other colours as well; obviously to provide a variety of different backdrops.

She set up a camera on a tripod, fiddled around with and then switched on some lights that I found to be surprisingly bright and uncomfortably hot.

"Ok, strike a sexy pose looking right into the camera," she instructed me.

I put my hands on my hips, pushed my jean covered tummy forward and stared right into it as instructed. 

"Turn to you right." 

She clicked away. "Now left." More clicks.

"Ok let's lose the tee shirt."

I pulled that off feeling a little embarrassed as I knew that my nipples showed clearly through the thin fabric and again went through the process of posing and watching her click away making grunts and sounds that generally sounded to be of approval. 

"Now the jeans," she said very matter of factly.

I wasn't wearing very sexy underwear, although as I do have a bit of a thing about lingerie it certainly wasn't bog standard, department store cotton stuff. I was wearing a quite nice, pale blue, lacy thong with a matching bra so when I was down to them I guessed, and hoped I looked ok.

"Mmmm very nice, Sam, you look good," Sandra commented as she lined up the camera and told me to turn away and bend forward and backwards.

As I posed in the underwear in a variety of positions I began to relax and feel more comfortable. Those feelings were helped by Sandra's encouraging remarks as she snapped away.

"Ok a few nudes now luv, if that's ok," she suggested.

Although I'd been standing and posing in front of her for ten minutes or so in my underwear it felt odd undressing completely. It was particularly strange unclipping my bra and taking that off then slipping out of my panties as she looked on. I'd have felt a lot more comfortable had she have looked away, but her intent gaze as I revealed all was rather disconcerting, yet strangely exciting. And, as she once more went behind the camera, I again felt those tingles that I'd had on stage with Steph and when posing for the art students.

"Nothing too explicit Sam, just some straightforward tits and ass stuff," she said smiling at me as she set up the camera. "Ok hold your tits and push them up as if offering them to the camera."

I did as she asked staring deep into the camera lens as that caught the image of my 33b boobs pressed together with the two pink nipples hardening and seeming to be flashing at her.

"Mmmm, lovely, that's great Sam, now just pinch those nipple for me and smolder at the camera."

It wasn't difficult. The combination of posing for this charismatic, attractive and quite forceful woman, being naked, having the camera intruding on me seeming as if it was seducing me and now pulling on my erect nipples made it very easy to smolder. In fact I didn't have to try; I just had to act naturally.

Sandra spent a few more minutes taking shots of me naked from a variety of angles.

"Ok Sammi," she said walking over towards me and turning the lights off. "Let's have a look shall we?"

"What?" I asked.

"All the shots are on the computer now so we can look at them," she explained walking behind the rolls of paper and into a small alcove where there was desk with a large screened PC on it. "Here sit here," she said patting a straight backed chair next to hers.

I felt awkward still being naked. I didn't know whether to ignore what Sandra was suggesting and walk back across the room to where my clothes were lying on a chair or do as she said. She solved it for me.

"Don't get dressed just yet, luv, we may need to take a few more shots as I want these for your portfolio," she explained looking right into my eyes.

I could hardly believe what I felt when suddenly there I was on the screen pressing my boobs together "smoldering" at the camera. It had been exciting enough posing, but now seeing the results of my modeling and Sandra's photography, I felt even more exciting.

"Mmmm," she said quietly clicking the mouse so pose after pose of me naked and in just my underwear filled the giant screen just inches from my face.

It really was a strange experience. It was as if in some ways it wasn't me, as if I hadn't just been posing for Sandra and the camera and as if I wasn't sitting totally naked beside another woman. 

"Very nice, very nice indeed," she went on staring at the enlarged pictures of my breasts. "Oh yes Sammi, oh yes," she continued as the huge screen was filled with close ups of my nipples, my pubes, boobs and bum. 

I couldn't work out whether she was making professional photographic comments on my body or whether they were her female views. I did, though, realise that we were sitting so close that her leather covered leg under the desk was pressed against mine; that her hand that wasn't operating the mouse frequently brushed against my wrist as she made comments on various shots and that she seemed to have leaned a little more towards me so that our shoulders were touching.

"You really do have a natural talent for this Sammi," she remarked turning and looking me right in the eye. "Hasn't anyone else ever told you that?" She went on holding my gaze.

"Er, um no, no nobody has."

She rested her fingers on the back of my hand, continued staring deep into my eyes and said, very quietly. 

"Well I am now love; I'm telling you now that you are an absolute natural for photographic modeling. You have a gorgeous face and a great body with...." She paused before letting her gaze drop a little and adding as she rubbed her fingertips in little circular movements on the back of my hand , "absolutely stunning tits."

I didn't really know what to say. But then how could I? It's not often a twenty year old kid has a woman that's old enough to be her mum, photograph her naked and then tell her what great tits she has.

I mumbled my thanks I think adding something inane like, "you really think so?"

"Yes Sam, I do," she said slowly and softly, "they are beautiful."

Suddenly I knew, not suspected, but knew for sure what was going to happen next. It was a clear vision, a premonition I suppose, a look into the future.

Nothing was said. Everything seemed to go into slow motion as the atmosphere became, to me at least, absolutely electric. It was as if I was watching a film or TV; as if it was happening to other people.

It didn't seem to be Sandra that turned even more and leaned forward, it wasn't her hand that moved so slowly, closing the space between us, it wasn't me that arched my back and bent forward a little in preparation. No, it was as if it were two actors doing it. One actor about to take, the other waiting to give; one actor reaching out towards the others body, the other offering that in anticipation. Yes, it wasn't us, not the studio owner and the spoiled bitch, not the forty something woman and the twenty something kid, not Sandra and Sammi. Well that's how it seemed.

But then it was Sandra who reached out and cupped my breast, it was Sammi that gave that quite readily. It was Sandra that cupped my boob and let out a little moan and it was me that pressed my tit firmly against her palm and groaned with pleasure as her finger and thumb found my aching nipple and pinched it. And yes it was us that kissed as she then caressed, squeezed, rubbed and stroked my breasts.

"Come to my bed, Sammi" she whispered as we broke the kiss, "I want to make love to you as you've never been made love to before."

God did I find those words so romantic, enthralling, evocative and plain fucking arousing.

"Will you let me do that, my lovely?" she sighed as I watched fascinated as her beautifully manicured finger nails went to the top button on her silk blouse. "Will you let me make perfect love to you Sammi?" she continued as button after button was slid open. "Will you Sammi, will you?" She asked pulling the blouse out from the waistband of her leather trousers and removing it as she stood up.

"Yes, yes Sandra," I croaked, feeling so totally out of my depth sexually as I watched her put her arms behind her and unclip the lacy bra. 

Her breasts were small, even smaller than mine; they could hardly have even been an A cup for they were nearly all nipple. But such a nipple, a type of nipple I'd never seen before. It was dark, almost brown. The areolas were not very big, but the hardened centres were enormous, much larger than any I'd seen before, they must have been over a quarter of an inch in diameter and more than half an inch in height. I assumed, but didn't know for sure, that they were hard and erect, for if they weren't then their eventual fullness was just mind-boggling.

She took my hand and urged me up, her arms went round me and she pulled me to her. We kissed, deeply and energetically. Her tongue probed into my mouth, her lips ground against mine and our teeth clashed, several times. Her hands were everywhere. On my breasts and nipples, cupping my face and running through and pulling my hair, quite firmly. They went between us and found my pubes and clit and went round me and found my cheeks and the crease between them. She stroked, rubbed and caressed my back, my legs my shoulders and my sides. She was grinding her leather trouser covered belly against mine and she pushed one of her legs between my thighs. She pushed that upwards, up as far as it could go, up until the top of her leg was pressed firmly against me, against my pussy. It was squirming against that so sexually sensitive region of my body, against my lips and mound and pussy and clitoris and yes, against my cunt. She started moving her leg, pressing more firmly and running it between mine. I was moaning, groaning and grunting as she totally and utterly sexually devoured me. I clasped my thighs around her leg; I ground myself down on it. I had my arms round her neck and was almost hanging down from that as Sandra fucked me with her leg.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 09



She made me cum so easily and quickly. It was seemingly effortless on her part that she made me cum twice in the studio, once with her leg and once with her hands and fingers. I climaxed so much more quickly than I ever had with Stephanie; not just more quickly though, but more frequently as well it seemed.

It all seemed so effortless on her part. She was so assured and confident, as if there was no doubt whatsoever that I would do as she wished, comply with her suggestions and be seduced so seemingly easily. The truth was I was so out of my depth that I felt defenseless; I was putty in her hands and I knew that she'd be able to do whatever she wished with me, for I had no way of resisting her advances. I knew that Steph must have said something and I half cursed her for doing so, but on the other hand the sensations I was getting from being seduced by such an expert really were something else. So I shut my mind down to all other considerations than getting as much pleasure from Sandra as I could. Pure sexual hedonism I smiled to myself.

Once we were in her bedroom she peeled her leather trousers off and sat across me, her knees either side of my waist. She leaned forward and took my wrists in her hands and pulled my arms straight out from my shoulders as she edged her body up mine. She leaned forward shoving her tits into my mouth for a moment or two and then eased herself even further up my body. Up and up until her knickers covered pussy was just inches from my face, her bum squashing my tits. I could see a few stray pubic hairs drifting out from the edges of her panties, the outlines of her lips and her crease through the material and the dampness of her female excretions. I could not only see, but could also smell her female arousal and that only served to get me even more aroused as well.

And then she covered the last few inches and pressed herself right against my mouth.

"Suck me Sammi," she groaned, "suck mama's cunt Sammi, make your mumma cum baby.

I had no idea what prompted that sort of language. Nevertheless I found what she was saying together with what she was doing, pressing her panty covered pussy against my face, so exciting that I started to cum once more.

"Fuck," I thought to myself as she got hold of my long hair on either side of my face and pulled me more firmly against her soaked pussy, "she's making me cum simply by talking to me."

I was pushing my tongue against the soaked gusset and running it round the outline of her lips as she moaned and groaned.

"Oh yes baby, oh yes, yes, yes, my little baby." 

She was pulling my hair quite hard now so it was hurting me. At the same time she was grinding herself against me. I felt her fingers brush against my face as she reached down and grabbed the narrow gusset of her thong. She pulled it to one side baring her pussy and pushed that right against my mouth so firmly I almost choked for a moment or two.

"You're doing it baby, you're doing me, you're doing mama baby' You're making your mummy cum," she groaned as I felt her pulling hard on the thong that then, with a jerk started to rip. I could feel the torn satin dangling down rubbing on my chin. I reached round her and got hold of her buttocks pulling her more firmly towards me as I pushed my tongue as far up her cunt as I could. At the same time I did something that Steph had taught me. As I fucked her with my tongue so I ground my chin right against her clit and slid my finger between the cheeks of her bum; she was now being stimulated in three of her most feminine places at the same time.

The deep, long moan, well almost a growl really, that I heard as she greedily climaxed on my mouth was almost as frightening as it was exciting.

Chapter 4

So Sandra agreed to take me on and put her on her books. Just as I left the studio after we'd made a rather more conventional type of love, she said.

"Don't worry Sammi, I'll teach you and get you loads of work."

And that's exactly what happened as I enrolled at stage school, waited for the term to start and then threw myself into learning all I could about film and stage production.

I was, in a way, lucky for my brother who worked for my dad's property development company moved back to London from Spain and dad let him use one of the several flats he had in London. I managed to wheedle my way in on that. I persuaded dad that going to Central London and back every day was such a chore that it made sense for me to stay with Patrick in dad's flat. They both, rather surprisingly easily, agreed so I was soon ensconced in the reasonable luxury of a flat with Patrick, two other girls and one other bloke just off the trendy and busy Upper Street in Islington, a few miles from the bright lights, shops and clubs of inner London and just a few tube stops from the stage school. Perfect.

Although, Sandra took some time to come up with any work, I was confident she would, after all how often do forty year old dykes get the chance to fuck a fresh, clean, twenty year old kid like me?

I knew though that I'd have to get some other work to explain where my money was coming from so through the acting "friends" I'd made I got some freelance role-play work for a training company and took a bar job that was on a rota system meaning I could pretty much work when and how much I wanted, after all no work, no money; same as the role-play stuff. That suited me though, for I could, I assumed, then use the times I was supposed to be working legit to flash my bits for photographers.

Starting time at the college was a few months away and I intended to use that to get some cash behind me and to buy the "wardrobe" that Sandra had specified. That was a very minimum of ten separate sets of panties and bras, a variety of thongs, different types of panties in differing materials from cotton to silk, a few waspies, camisoles and basques, masses of pairs of stockings and sussie belts and numerous pairs of high heeled shoes. They proved to be a big and extravagant expense. The lingerie I could make use of in my "normal" life the strappy stilettos and the like I couldn't; still c'est la vie there has to be some unrecoverable overhead expenses in all business ventures I suppose.

And all that brings us conveniently back to.

"Ok love, can you take the panties off now please?"

It was my very first session. Sandra had told me that she'd booked me and had said the club evening at a studio she owned in Camden Town would be in two weeks time.

"Just enough," she said slightly menacingly, in a nice, sexy sort of way, "for me to get my hands on you Sammi and train you up."

I saw her four times in those two weeks, twice in the afternoons and twice in the evenings. She taught me a lot, she explained a lot, she trained me a lot and of course she fucked me a lot; after all a girl has to pay her dues doesn't she.

I'd learned all about the types of underwear the guys preferred, the sorts of poses they really went for, "rear view of your bum, with you on all fours looking over your shoulder is by far their favourite," she told me. 

She explained the different types of hair styles adding, as she ran her fingers through mine, "long and blonde Sammi is by far the top of the pops." She ran me through the photos she'd taken explaining the good and bad aspects and showing me by doing the poses herself just how they could be improved. 

"You have to really get it on with the camera Sam," she continued as she started to make love to me by running her hands down my back and cupping my bottom that was just covered by the silk French knickers she'd told me to put on to pose in.

I'd arrived at the large semi-detached, four story town house in Camden Town at 6.30 as Sandra had told me. She'd said she couldn't be there, but Gary the studio manager was fine and he'd look after me. As she'd explained I laid the masses of panties, bras, basques, stockings, shoes and all the other stuff out where Gary indicated so that the cameramen could select the various get ups I'd wear during the two hour session that would last from 7.30 to 9.30.

"Ok Sam, they're all here, you ready to go?" he asked as he came into the small bedroom that had been converted into a dressing room; he had knocked first.

"Yep, I'm ok," I replied sounding, I think, somewhat more confident than I felt.

I was wearing low cut jeans that were blue, very tight and accentuated the bulge of my pubes and the roundness of my bum cheeks, well that was the idea. On top I was wearing a white, cut off vest that had fairly narrow straps and only reached down to about three inches above the waistband of the jeans. Under that I was wearing a skimpy bra and under the jeans an equally skimpy thong.

"Ok Gentlemen," I heard Gary saying as I stood to one side of the posing area in the main studio, "please welcome a new model to our studio Sammi."

As he said that and I walked from behind the huge rolls of different coloured paper that are used as backdrops there was a polite round of applause and a couple of nice remarks.

"Welcome Sammi," Gary said holding my hand and giving me an encouraging squeeze.

"Thanks," I smiled at him and then looking out towards the cameramen.

Seeing the mass of ten or twelve guys all staring at me in the room shocked me; I suddenly realised how stars must feel! I also realised just what I was letting myself in for. In my mind I hadn't worked out just how close they would be. Stupidly, I suppose, I'd had in my mind the audience at the What the Butler Saw when I'd been on stage naked with Steph, or the students at the art college I'd posed for who had sat at some distance in organised rows and didn't get close. 

This was so different. They were so close to me as I started striking different poses; they leaned forward as I stood there; they stood right over me when I sat or lay down; they called out their requests for poses.

"On all fours Sam, legs apart please."

"On your back luv, legs pulled up if you will."

"Stick your boobs out more please Sam."

All were politely phrased but all seemed so intimate. I mean lying on the floor in the skimpy top and tight jeans, my legs spread with perhaps six men at a time leaning or standing around bending forward and pointing their cameras at me is a pretty personal up thing, isn't it?

I slid the thin straps of the cut off vest down one by one. I stopped and posed with each strap just off my shoulder as requested. I took the vest off holding it above my head so my face was covered as I was asked. I held a pose with one hand on my hip the other holding the vest out to the camera and then another holding the vest down by my side almost dragging on the ground. I could hardly believe that they could be that interested in such an act as to have me make at least six poses just to get the vest off. "How the fuck many will they want when I drop me drawers?" I smiled to myself as I relaxed a little.

In just the low-cut jeans and bra I felt as nervous as hell as I struck a variety of poses. 

Unclipping it and taking the damn thing off took ages.

"Slip just one strap off love."

"OK hands above your head with the straps by your elbows."

"Both straps falling down, your arms by your side, one hand on your hip."

The instructions came thick and fast. I turned to both sides, posed with my back to them the bra unclipped, faced the mass of cameras leaning forward holding the unclipped bra to my chest.

"Let the cups slip Sam so we see just a hint of one nipple."

"Let one cup fall off completely."

"Both cups off now Sam, but keep the straps halfway up your arms."

I was still being fazed by the closeness of the guys, some of whom seemed to be taking close-ups of my breasts and presumably nipples as well. It made me far tenser and much more nervous than I had ever thought I'd be. I hadn't imagined it would be like this and I was worried whether I would be able to go all the way, whether I'd be able to pose naked and whether in the end this was the way for me to earn the money I needed for stage school.

The bra came off completely and after a long series of topless shots where I pressed my boobs together, stretched my hands over my head, arched my back and leaned forward letting them dangle it was time to remove the jeans. Poses with the belt undone, the zip half way and then fully down took some time and were followed by what seemed endless shots of the jeans at varying stages of being slid down my legs and off.

"Lovely thong Sammi," one of them called out as the shutters of the cameras went nineteen to the dozen when I stood before the group just in my panties feeling more nervous than I can ever remember.

There were shots with me standing hands on hips, arms crossed over my boobs, loads from behind with me standing, kneeling and lying down, the cameras seeming to focus on the slither of lace that snuggled so tightly behind the rounded cheeks of my bum. I had to pull the waistband up so that the front was tight across my mound, then push it down until a few pubes were in view. I knelt, I laid down on my front and back with the men all bending over me making me feel hemmed in and almost claustrophobic, I knelt on my knees and on all fours.

Then I heard those quite amazing words.

"Ok love, can you take the panties off now?"

And as I did, as they asked me, so my "career" as a glamour model really started. 



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 10



It's been some time since my last submission, thanks for being patient. But we're back now and I hope you'll agree it's with a bang.

If you've read the previous parts you'll know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them I'd strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

Part 10: Learning lots about myself in the real world.

In this part there are quite a few flashbacks. To my times with Steph, my first girl lover, and with DD, my older male lover, to scenes with my mother and to the first times I posed for photographers. They are all described in detail in earlier parts of my bio. If you haven't read them I'd strongly suggest you flick back to see what I'm referring to in this part.

"You really do have the prettiest little cunt," Sandra said quite huskily as she aimed the camera between my opened legs.

Naked apart from a black lacy suspender belt, seamed fishnet stockings and strappy black shoes, I was in her studio in East London. She was taking open leg photos of me to show me how to pose and project my pussy on film in "beaver" shots. At the time I'd been modeling for a number of amateur camera clubs for a few months earning the money that enabled me to have a modicum of life while studying stage and film production at a private school in Bloomsbury in London. 

I'd done well and I'd become quite popular on "the circuit." I'd quickly started getting more bookings than I could comfortably handle with my college work and, although I'd vowed it wouldn't, that was beginning to suffer a bit. That was natural I suppose. I mean if a girl hangs around with a gang of actors, musicians and other general layabouts most nights in bars, pubs and clubs in trendy Upper Street, Islington, it's difficult to be clear headed and alert the next morning at college. It's hard to do the studying and homework as well. And then, if on top of that, the girl has two or three evening and one or two afternoon modeling sessions most weeks, something has to give doesn't it. And at the moment, though I hate myself for letting it happen, it was the studying. Still I was bright and I could always cram for the exams couldn't I?

At first I'd merely offered glamour and topless poses. Nothing that extreme, well that's what Sandra had called them as I lie in her arms in her bed discussing my "modeling career."

"It just depends what you're after," she'd explained her tongue gliding across my hardened nipple as her hand slid up my thigh that I invitingly opened for her. I'd learned a lot from Stephanie, my bisexual mate at uni, who'd introduced me to the delights of girl sex. If she introduced me, then Sandra, who was much older and experienced, certainly totally consummated my relationship with lipstick lesbianism when she auditioned me for glamour modeling. In addition to becoming my older female lover, she also became my agent

"If you just want to make a few bob, don't get too involved, we'll put you down as "glamour and topless only" and you'll do ok."

I'd thought that was the best way. For a while I was on Sandra's books and nothing happened. None of the twenty or so amateur photographer clubs booked me for their club nights and I got no work at all.

"They really do need nude stuff," she said by way of explanation. "I mean you can almost see pubes in the Sun now can't you and certainly full on pussy on most top shelf magazines?"

The difference had been amazing. From nothing to five or six sessions a week in such a short period. But they were now slowing down a bit. Sure I was still getting new bookings from different clubs but the repeats were slowing.

I'd been asked many times, but had said no to questions like.

"Do the legs come open Sammi?" or "Are we going to see the secret squirrel Sam?"

I asked Sandra about it and with her usual blunt but quite humourous way she'd explained. 

"If you want to keep going at that rate then you've got to give 'em more."

"What open leg stuff?"

"Yes luv, open leg, open ass and open pussy, they want it all."

"I don't whether I could."

"Well let me take some like that, give you a few tips and then we'll see where we go."

Just like the first time I'd met her I was soon on the floor of her studio with the lights beaming down on me her camera catching me from every angle.

"We'll take a few straight ones to loosen you up."

As I rolled around on the floor striking a variety of poses she clicked away.

"Ok Sam, hold it there," she'd said as I rolled on to my back with my legs drawn up in a fairly standard pose I'd done loads of time. 

"Let yourself fall back a little."

I did and she clicked away taking shots from a few angles of all my body then focusing in on my tits and nipples. They had, as they generally did when I was posing like this, hardened and were standing up like ripe raspberries.

"Now darling," she croaked the emotion, sexual arousal or the fifty fags a day making her voice very gravelly. "Let your knees fall open."

It was easy, a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Soon I was kneeling, standing, lying and striking up all conceivable beaver shots. Yes within a few minutes of my first one I was willing, almost eagerly flashing my cunt for the camera.

As we had the first time she'd photographed me she downloaded the shots onto her PC and we sat next to each other at a table. It really was amazing to see one of those large flat screen monitors completely filled with my pussy. It was even more amazing when just a few minutes later Sandra was stroking my real pussy with her fingers as we both looked at shots of that and other parts of me on the PC. Talk about a turn on. To see your own naked body on screen as a lover caresses you really is amazing.

Chapter 2.

"Don't worry, there won't be many there," she'd assured me when a few days later she booked my first open leg session. It was at a studio in Stockwell in South London. I'd been there several times and liked the owner and the whole set up so I felt pretty comfortable as I climbed out of the cab with my big hold all and carrying "wardrobe" of outfits.

"Hi Sammi," Barry said, "here let me help you with those?."

He made me a cup of tea as I unpacked and hung everything up where I could easily get to it but where also the photographers could inspect what I had to offer them by way of lingerie and other outfits.

I'd brought loads of panty and bra sets, thongs, French knickers, bikini pants and boy shorts. A few basques, a waspie or two and a number of sussy belts with a range of stockings. I had a schoolgirl's outfit, a white, mid-thigh length coat with a tight belt similar to a doctor's receptionist or dental nurse and a number of bikinis.

"There's only six tonight Sam," he told me going on to explain that he charged twice as much for these types of session so the punters deserved more space and time, hence why there were generally less than the ten or so I was used to.

I didn't quite cum; almost but not quite; nearly but not completely.

It really was an amazing experience to be lying on my back just in a pair of lacy topped, black holdups and strappy shoes. I had my legs spread, my knees slightly raised and my fingers on the folds of my pussy pulling them apart.

"Jesus Christ Sam," one of the guys had croaked and that had made me that tad more adventurous, so I parted the folds of my pussy.

Through half-closed eyes I watched the six guys shooting away taking shot after shot. I rolled my head, I let my blonde hair fall over my face and I drew my knees up more. I didn't, though I almost desperately wanted to, move my fingers deeper into me or nearer to my clit. I mean after all they were only paying to take pictures of my cunt not to see me wank myself. That said I knew they liked to get the look on the model's face on film. The half or fully closed eyes, the open mouth, clenched teeth or the tongue out; yes they liked her to look as if she was about to cum.

Chapter 3

To be honest when I was alone and feeling a bit down I wasn't that happy with myself. I didn't feel good about what I was doing. But I did feel good when I was doing it. Odd, contradictory, possibly illogical and hard for anyone that hasn't been in similar positions to understand. I wanted to stop, but couldn't. But then I also wanted to do more.

Later that evening thinking about the enormous buzz I'd got when the six guys were looking at me, were seeing my naked body, my body with my legs open and knee raised made me feel horny. As I recalled the feelings I had as they were staring at my most intimate place made me want to masturbate. As I remembered their eyes on me, on my body, between my legs and on my cunt I started to masturbate

I was beginning to realise that sex-wise I was an exhibitionist. I hadn't known that for most of my teens. I'd suspected it, though, when Steph and I were naked on stage when we starred in the university production of What the Butler Saw. The thoughts of the two hundred pairs of eyes on me and of them watching us under the bedclothes actually touching each other very intimately made me stroke my breasts, just as Stephanie had done on that stage. It was starting to be confirmed when I posed naked for the art students and even more so when Sandra took those first photos of me. The memories of sitting naked beside her looking at myself in those sexy poses from the first time and even more from the more recent one, sent my hands scurrying over my body.

But the thoughts that, of course, made my hands become even more adventurous were about earlier this evening. And just as I had then, I now touched the velvety softness of the folds of my pussy around my clit. I uncovered it as I'd desperately wanted to do while the six pairs of eyes watched, but I hadn't. I stroked it, I rubbed it and I pressed it imagining that I was doing that in front of the cameramen. The looks in their eyes and the expressions on their faces as they'd first seen my pussy were fantastic; a combination of lust, desire, surprise, want and, strangely, a hint of embarrassment. I would have loved to have gone further but my professional pride rather than my moral regards, I recognised, stopped me.

It may well have stopped me then, but in the solitude of my bedroom with all the memories of the afternoon and the thoughts of my other escapades roaring through my mind, nothing could have stopped me. My face buried in the pillow some of the material in my mouth acting as a sort of gag for my brother was in the next room, my knees were drawn up and my hands were buried between my thighs as I masturbated. Deeply, fully, strongly and remarkably satisfyingly. But then I hadn't had sex for over a month so I needed it badly.

Chapter 4

Things were going well. 

I'd settled back into "academia" and was quite enjoying stage school, although it was far more demanding than the breeze I thought it would be. I hadn't, because I hadn't fully thought things through which is the norm for me, quite realised the breadth of the syllabus. Not only did I have to learn the techniques of stage and film production and direction but also acting, dancing, singing, mime, lighting, sound, costumes, stage props and a seemingly endless list of other essentials. It was hard and demanding but overall quite satisfying and rewarding. Maybe because for the first time in my short life I was doing something I wanted to do and something I'd chosen.

The modeling was also going well. Despite my "morality" concerns and continual worry that someone might find out and grass to my parents or brother I was very active. Now I'd taken the shackles of closed legs off my posing the bookings were pouring in and Sandy told me I could work every day if I wanted. Fame indeed I thought.

Things were still good with DD, the lecturer I'd been bonking when I was at Bristol Uni. I didn't see him much due to the distance, but during school holidays when he returned to the marital home in Highgate, just up the road to me, we got together regularly. During term time we did talk on the phone and he introduced me to the pleasures of phone sex. That was nice!

There was just two down bits.

One was sex. I wasn't getting any on a regular basis. Now that didn't bother me that much, for those of you readers who started with me at Part 1 of this bio will know my oddness about it. I think a lot but don't do much, well that is if you ignore stripping off, lying naked and letting five or six guys take pictures of my pussy. It was I suppose companionship. I had no one to go to weddings or other functions with, nobody to share things with and no one to hold me when I was down. But I coped with that as, indeed, I seem able to cope with most things.

The other big problem though was mum and dad.

I knew they hadn't been getting on well for some time. And that was hardly surprising I thought when I'd caught her that time I came home from uni. Yes caught her in the small gym dad had had built on the back of the garage. Caught her kneeling there, her full breasts bare where her workout leotard had been pulled down. Caught her holding a young guy's naked cock that was long and hard and, so it seemed to me, was just about to go into her mouth. We hadn't spoken then, just held each others gaze, nor had we discussed it since. It was never mentioned.

Dad had been spending more and more time away from home traveling for the property development business he owned and mum had been spending more and more time playing tennis, working out and at her new love, golf.

I'd been furious at her at the time, for I am a real daddy's girl. I'd softened a little over the months since it had happened, though, and had, I suppose, come to the conclusion that one can't legislate for parents. In the end result they have the same needs and urges as younger people so if mum wanted a bit on the side why not, I reconciled. I mean after all dad is fifteen years older than her forty years, maybe he finds it hard getting it up or possibly doesn't have the urge to give it to her as much as she wants it. Who knows as far as sex is concerned, certainly not me?

"Why don't you come with me, it must be near your half-term break, or whatever they call it at that sort of college?" She'd asked me in early October

Dad had announced that he had to go to the Far East on some deal he was doing and therefore wouldn't be able to go with her to Southern Spain. They were staying at some posh golf and tennis complex and as I'd had hardly any holiday this year the idea appealed. But the thought of ten days alone with her when I still hadn't forgiven her for what I'd seen in the gym wasn't that attractive. But I agreed.

The hotel was fantastic and fortunately the weather was great. I wasn't planning on much tennis and even less golf, just the pool, the sun and me.

My mother is, very attractive. She doesn't look her age and several times we've been mistaken as sisters. Unlike me she's dark, slightly olive skinned and has a larger, but nowhere near large, build. She's got shoulder length hair, fantastic legs and a really full pair of, what I'd term, juicy tits. Men's eyes were never off them, almost no matter what she was wearing. 

And in some ways, though it shouldn't have been, to my horror at first the first day round the pool she was wearing very little. A skimpy bikini, the top of which after just ten minute so she'd removed. Now I shouldn't have been shocked for on holidays in Europe she's always gone topless as indeed I do. I hadn't been on a beach or pool type vacation with her for such a time I'd forgotten all about her yen for topless sunbathing. 

Late in the afternoon of the first day just as it was getting dark we went to a group tennis coaching session. It really was good and I picked up quite a few tips that would help my game should I decide to play during the holiday. We had a drink in the clubhouse with the seven or eight guys and two other women and got on well with them. Two of the guys who were in their late twenties were quite dishy and made quite a play for mum and me. That made me smile and I kept wondering when she was going to say we were mum and daughter. She didn't even mention it. Not then, not when we saw them at dinner, not when we had a drink with them and not when we said goodnight and went to our rooms.

Dad had booked a suite for him and her and I had a room one floor down.

As we parted at the lift mum said.

"Why don't you come up to the suite for breakfast, it has a lovely balcony."

I showered fairly early for being on holiday. I slipped into a bikini and a mid-thigh length, beach dress to make the short journey up one floor to her suite. She opened the door in her silk looking nighty. It was a salmon pink with grey lace round the hem and neck. It was low cut and fairly tight with very thin spaghetti shoulder straps. Across her chest it was tight enough to provide a little support for her boobs and thus there was quite a cleavage. Her nipples were very pronounced through the luxuriant material. Her hair was quite disheveled and the combination of that, the nightdress, her bare legs and the amount of her breasts that were on show made her look very sexy.

As she showed me in to the suite I instinctively looked around for signs of a man being there. Cynical little shit aren't I? Needless to say there wasn't.

We had a lovely breakfast on the terrace, we got on surprisingly well.

"Samantha," (she's the only person that calls me that) she suddenly said, "come inside a moment."

"Why, what's up?" I asked.

As I followed I couldn't help noticing the very womanly wiggle of her hips and bum under the silk. I'd suspected she wasn't wearing panties, following her into the living room of the suite confirmed that.

She stopped an turned right in the middle of the room.

"I don't know whether you've suspected or not but things are not good between your father and me," she started. Without giving me a chance to reply she went on. "In fact they haven't been for some time."

I couldn't help having a dig. "Like from the day I came home from uni" That was the day I saw her just about ready to fuck her personal trainer.

Surprisingly she just smiled and didn't rise to the bait. Instead as cool as anything she replied. "No well before that, in fact even before the time I caught him in bed with a girl of your age."

I was shocked. "Really, bugger me."

"So we've decided to lead our own lives."

"Oh fuck, it's that bad?"

"Yes but we aren't parting, we'll still live together but not in the same bedrooms."

"I suppose you mean an open marriage do you?"

"Yes, yes something like that," she stuttered, her voice breaking as she lost control. I looked at her and saw the tears running down her face.

"I'm sorry Sam, I'm so, so sorry," she sobbed as we involuntarily closed the small gap between us and hugged each other, tightly.

"It's ok, it's ok mum, it can't be helped," I responded as I also started crying.

"I'm sorry for everything, including that time you saw me that was unforgivable."

"What was? What you were doing or forgetting to lock the door?" I joked making us both laugh.

We stayed in each others arms for some time consoling each other. I hadn't cuddled her like that since I was a grown woman and it felt good. Too good maybe. Our arms were tightly round each other, our chins were on the others shoulder. Our cheeks were touching, our bodies were pressed together from our breasts to our toes.

I could hardly believe it. What sort or perverted sense of love was I experiencing? What was happening to me? 




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 10



I was in my mother's arms for Christ's sake and I was getting turned on. Feeling my mum's breasts against mine, her hands on my back, her tummy against mine and our thighs tangling together was arousing me. I held on tight, squeezing us closer and harder together. I fought the demons that were doing this, I struggled against what was happening and I combated the dark forces that were making me want to fuck my own mother.

Chapter 5

The rest of the short holiday had passed without much incident. Oddly we saw little more of the two guys who'd started coming on strong to us and fortunately we didn't get into any similar situations. I managed to "fight those demons" and I don't think mum noticed anything at all. I still though got funny feelings from time to time. 

Like when we were both topless talking to strangers around the pool, like when she stripped off her bikini in front of me in the suite and went for a shower. And like the day it was wet and cold when I went to the suite for breakfast. She was in bed. I sat on the edge of it.

"Bloody hell it's cold," she said. "That's the trouble with Southern Spanish hotels, no central heating for these cold spells.

"Yes it is," I replied, actually shivering in the short shorts and thin tee I was wearing. I hadn't bothered with a bikini, for it was pretty obvious we wouldn't be sunbathing, or a bra come to that.

She looked up at me and said smiling. "Yes I can see you're cold," making reference to my shudderingly hard nipples that were so obvious through the material.

"Oh shut up," I laughed rolling onto the bed.

"Why don't you get in?" she asked lifting up the bedclothes.

Before I knew it I was in bed with my mother for the first time in years, but this time the feelings I had were nowhere near those I remembered. Back then they'd been warm and cuddly, nice and so secure; now there was acute discomfort, at least on my part. My bare leg touched hers and I jumped away.

"Whatever's the matter?" She asked seemingly and thankfully totally oblivious to these amazing sensations I was, and had for some time now been, having.

"Nothing, nothing, I was just surprised."

"What, at feeling my leg in my bed, what did you think it was, silly." She said jokingly lifting her leg and running her foot right down mine.

The sensations were incredible; a combination of straightforward daughterly love for a mother and sheer lust. What a fucking awful combination I thought as we left our legs touching. Her skin was smooth and cool and felt so wonderful. As I lie there I could imagine her bare breasts, I could see myself touching them, I could imagine her pulling my face to them and offering me her nipple as she had twenty years ago. I could envisage myself sucking on it, but not for food as I had then. No my sucking now would be for lust and sexual pleasure.

We were watching some crap on TV and we just laid there. My heart was pounding so much I was surprised she didn't hear it, particularly when she reached out and held my hand; just, to her, a motherly gesture, but to me so overtly erotic. I thought I was going to explode, but just then room service arrived with our breakfasts and I managed once more to fight off the demons. How many more times, I wondered could I get away with it?

Chapter 5

Nicely tanned, nearly all over, relaxed but full of conflicts about my mother I returned to London from the ten day break. I was straight back into to the huge college workload and the whirlwind of modeling.

The college is not that far from my flat, just a few stops on the tube, so commuting wasn't' that much of a drudge, thankfully. I also didn't have to go in every day, approximately three a week, but I was supposed to study when at home, of course like most of the students I didn't do as much as I should. 

Then there was the modeling. Now I was "showing all" I was in demand. The club circuit that Sandra used had clubs all round London. Nearly all had club nights or afternoons once or twice a week and that's when girls like me were booked as models. Obviously the clubs wanted variety so I was booked into different locations most sessions and that meant working on an ever expanding network of clubs. As a result I sometimes had to travel for an hour or more to a club and back. With that, the usually two hour booking, the getting ready before and the dressing afterwards the time taken up was sometimes six hours and rarely less than four.

So my studying, for I did do some, and modeling took up so much of my time that my social life was very restricted and my sex life non-existent. That was until David, the lecturer at uni who I'd been having an affair with for almost a year, moved back to London.

Before I'd left uni he'd told me he'd applied for a number of Head of Department posts at universities around London and I was thrilled when, out of the blue he rang and said he'd been appointed to such a post at the City University. 

He moved back in with his wife in their Highgate home which is close to where I live and the college, so things were beginning to sound good. DD (as I called him, David Deakins, get it??) was now in his early forties and had been married for ages, over fifteen years I think. They had no children, partly due I think to his wife being a serious career woman. She was a bit of a high flier in the Civil Service and traveled around both the UK and Europe quite a lot, so DD and I had ample opportunities to indulge in each other.

As DD had been in Bristol for the past few months, although he came home some weekends for social things with his wife, I hadn't seen him for ages. And that ages coincided with me not having had sex; it also coincided with me becoming a full on pussy shot model and also with me getting the strongest feelings of wanting to have sex with my mother. What a combination?

On my way back from college I stayed on the Northern tube line past The Angel Islington stop where I usually got off. I was staying on the tube until Highgate, I was going to see David, I was going to his house, I was going to his home to make love, yes I was going to meet my older lover so he could fuck me. I was so het up those last few stops. Daft really, after all he'd had me many times now and I regularly used to go to his flat in Bristol for exactly the same reasons as I was now. It just seemed different.

"Oh fuck Sammi, I'd forgotten what you felt and smelt like," he groaned when he took me in his arms immediately I was inside the front door of the three story quite large Victorian town house.

We kissed deeply and long. A lingering, greedy, slurpy, mouth wide-open kiss. A kiss where our tongues worked as hard as our lips, one where every part of our bodies was involved, one where they were touching from our mouths to our feet. It was a long, passionate kiss that was making up for the time apart. It was a squirmingly delicious kiss that indicated clearly what was going to happen next. It was a kiss where David's gorgeously long and stimulatingly thick, fully erect cock pressed into the softness of my tummy. A kiss where our hands felt no restraints or inhibitions. It was a kiss where as we did that we also scrambled the others clothes undone. 

As soon, almost, as we'd started kissing he cupped my breasts, he squeezed and kneaded them.

"Oh fucking hell, you gorgeous little slut," he moaned into my ear as his hands found out I wasn't wearing a bra.

He always likes me to leave my underwear off for him so I had.

As I fumbled his shirt buttons undone so his hands flew under my skirt.

"You cow, you dirty little bitch," he sighed as his fingers ran over my completely bare ass and pussy.

"And you like dirty little bitches don't you, you old perve!"

"Yes, especially when they don't wear their knickers and bra," he replied removing his arms from around me and shrugging off his shirt. I reached across my body with both hands, took hold of my top and with one quick movement lifted that up, over my head and off. We were both bare above the waist. My tits felt on fire as I looked at David knowing that soon we'd be having sex. The thought made me shudder having not had a shag for ages. He pulled me to him and squashed my breasts against his fairly hairy chest. I groaned with the, almost forgotten, pleasure of being in his arms and cradled against his chest. It was a lovely feeling.

We kissed more and enjoyed the sensation of our bare skins rubbing together; it had been a long time, too long. His erection, that was rearing right up the softest part of my tummy, began to move as David, almost involuntarily it seemed, started rubbing it up and down. At the same time he pulled my skirt up at the back and gripped both my cheeks pulling me harder against him. I gasped at the sudden increase in the intensity of the sensations as the base of his erection pressed hard right against my clit. 

"Oh God yes," I moaned holding my arms round his neck and pulling his face hard against mine as we kissed even deeper. 

I slid my hands between us fumbling at his belt as his hands ran all over my bum. He was trying to get his fingers between my thighs, but it was too soon; I knew that if I let him do that then he'd make me cum and I wanted us to do that together with him inside me. I now, though, quite desperately wanted his cock. To feel it, hold rub it and grip it. I got his belt undone and was starting on his zip when he said.

"No, quick let's go up stairs, I want to fuck you in my bed."

"Your bed?" 

"Well our bed."

I laughed as I quipped. "Our bed? We don't have a bed, you mean yours and Juliette's don't you?"

"Stop being pedantic," he grunted taking my hand. "You know what I mean I want to get you to bed."

I turned and started towards the stairs. I got a few steps up when his pulling on my hand made me slip. Suddenly I was lying face down on the stairs. David fell on me. He pushed my skirt up and, at the same I saw shoved his trousers down.

"I thought you wanted me in a bed."

"I changed my mind, I want you right here."

"You've been watching too many movies, this is just how Pierce Brosnan had Renee Russo in The Thomas Crown Affair, remember?"

"No I've never seen it, but this is how David Deakins is Going to fuck Sammi Cannock," he growled pulling himself onto me his knee forcing my legs apart,

All I was wearing was my skirt that was bunched around my waist. David still had his trousers, boxers and shoes on, although the former two garments were round his ankles. It was all rather exciting and dramatic to resume our over a year long affair in such a way. It was different and stimulating to be fucked on a polished beechwood staircase, or so I reckoned as I felt him pushing his erection right against my pussy lips. He was struggling it seemed to get it in me. I knew I was wet enough so it had to be that the angle wasn't quite right. I wiggled my body to help him. Suddenly there was that wonderful whooshing feeling and his cock slid right up me, filling me completely. It's such a lovely sensation that first time a cock slides up a girl. It literally did take my breath away and I grunted as he entered me.

I knew I wouldn't last long and I suspected David wouldn't either. I had no idea though just how short a fuck it was destined to be, for suddenly all hell seemed to break loose. 

I vaguely heard a sound at the door, but being so aroused I didn't react to it; I was far more interested in what was happening to my pussy and breasts. But when I heard DD say.

"Fucking hell, oh no."

And another voice, a woman's, say. "Fucking hell, oh yes," it started to dawn on me what was happening.

David had pulled out of me and stood up. I was still lying on the stairs, although I turned round. It could only be David's wife, there was no other explanation, and of course it was.

David blustered, "I thought you were away until tomorrow."

"Yes that's bloody obvious isn't it?" She asked very haughtily as she stared at me. I pushed my skirt down and she continued. "It's a bit late for modesty dear." She looked back at David who'd pulled his trousers up. "Who is the little whore?"

"That doesn't matter, you don't know her and she isn't a whore."

"Ok, slut then, but don't let's split hairs."

She looked at me. My first impression was what a striking woman she was. I knew that she was older than David and that her fiftieth was looming. I'd also seen a couple of photos of her at the Bristol flat, but I hadn't realised how beautiful she was. Tall, slim, dark hair and a pale complexion she reminded me of Kristan Scott-Thomas, the film star. And that wasn't just due to the similarity of appearance but also the calm demeanour that both seem to have.

Whilst clearly bloody annoyed she didn't at all lose her cool as David and I dressed in front of her. I was acutely aware that she must have seen that I didn't put on any panties or bra. This all happened in complete silence but under her intense stare. I didn't say a word and she said nothing directly to me.

"Come on Sammi," David said taking my hand, I'll get you cab." 



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 11



Thanks for the super feedback to Part 10. That's got me going again so 11 has quickly followed. When you get to at the end of this part you'll want 12 to follow soon and it will, I've started it already If you've read the previous parts you'll know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them I'd strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

Chapter 1

I could hardly believe it myself. He was even older than DD, much older; in fact he was also older than my dad. Yes, Jon was into his fifties. But that didn't stop him being an amazingly good fuck and probably the most interesting man I'd slept with and maybe had ever known.

He was an actor. Not tremendously successful but a face that when seen in a film or on TV, would make many people would say, "Now who's that?" Recently though, he hadn't had much work. His style was a little old fashioned and there were just too many actors around with his looks, so he had become known as, what all in the profession dread, unfashionable.

He did some lecturing at the college I was attending and we immediately hit it off. That was largely due to me having produced at university the Joe Orton classic play "What the Butler Saw." Jon had once starred in that and had a love for it as I did. So, after one of his, highly entertaining, very interesting and really quite motivational lectures, he asked me about my production. 

That led to me staying behind chatting to him about it; that led to us having a drink in a wine bar down the street, near to the British Museum and that led to us agreeing to have dinner a few days later. It also led to; well you're going to find that out right now! 

"I know there's a vast age difference Sammi," he was saying as we finished the bottle of red wine that evening, "but I would so like to take you out. Would you entertain the idea of having dinner with me one evening?"

I smiled at the nice and rather proper way he phrased the suggestion. It was clever for he was polite, he followed an old fashioned etiquette, that he knew appealed to me, because I'd told him, but he made no pretense at all of hiding the fact that it was a date. Not just a dinner, not a chance to chat more about "What the butler Saw", not a meeting to talk about "the business" and not an opportunity for him to teach me about the theatre. No it was going to be a date with all that implies. It was going to be test as to whether we fancied each other; he was putting his aging self on the line with a young girl thirty years his junior. 

Yes there was a degree of arrogance there, but then actors are like that, they have to be. But then I had told him that I preferred the company of older people and, quite frankly, I was enjoying the drink with him far more than I'd enjoyed several recent dates with younger guys.

I was taking a sip of wine when he said that. I lifted my eyes up over the rim of the glass and caught his gaze. I smiled as I put the glass down. I couldn't help joshing him a bit for, although I quite liked the formality of his phrasing, it was a little pompous.

"I might entertain the idea Jon." I said and then paused, putting the ball back into his court.

He also smiled and reaching out across the small table he rested his fingers on the back of my hand.

"Ah, I see, entertain it you might, but agree to it still has to be confirmed does it?"

"Of course," I smiled holding his gaze rather flirtatiously as he rubbed his fingertips softly up the back of my hand, onto my wrist then under it to where my pulse was beating, rather fast in fact.

"And what, I wonder," he said, as if talking to himself, "will persuade the young lady to confirm whether she will or not?"

I didn't say anything. I simply enjoyed the feelings as he held my hand running his fingertips slowly round and round my palm. It was lovely. I couldn't recall the last time a man had held my hand and done that. Maybe it was a rather old fashioned gesture; if so it made me hanker for the old fashioned times! But then I always have thought I was born in the wrong age and that I'm more suited to the fifties or before. 

As we sat there staring and smiling at each other, my hand in his, so I felt his knee against mine under the table. At first it could, of course, have been an accident, but when it returned and went away and then returned again all suspicion of that was removed. It was being done on purpose as a signal, a sort of request, an emphasis of the request for the date. Again, a little old fashioned perhaps, but nevertheless extremely intimate and alluring, I thought.

It was down to me now. I could easily move away and all could be forgotten. I could remove my hand, say I was busy or had a boyfriend and no face would be lost. On the other hand I could press back implying "yes" in a very clear way. Or I could be a bit of a cow and do nothing, leaving the problem completely with him. What do you reckon I did?

He knew the game, he'd played it before; he was obviously quite used to dealing with cows, but then he was in the theatre wasn't he? He realised exactly what I was doing and what I was playing at. He seemed to be able to read me, understand me and work out was I was thinking. That always intrigued me in a man and sometimes turned me on a little. I guess the sub in me respecting the dom in him, or something like that!

He continued gently rubbing the palm of my hand and pressing his knee firmly against mine as he looked right into my eyes.

"You have the most beguiling eyes, Samantha," he murmured staring deep into them. As if talking to himself again he went on. "It's as if I can see deep into your inner soul." As he was saying this he was still gently rubbing my fingers, hand and wrist and now, blatantly, pressing his leg against my knee. "I can see through your eyes, I can see you are a passionate woman, an intense woman. A woman that knows what she wants and how to get that. I can see so much about you." As he revved things up so his foot rested on mine then ran up the side of calf. 

It was quite heady stuff and I felt relieved that we were in a shielded corner where nobody would be able to see what we were doing. This became particularly relevant when his knee pressed against my closed knees, firstly quite firmly, then, after a moment or two, even firmer. I suppose I could have resisted, for it wouldn't have been physically difficult to stop him going further; I doubt other than by resorting to real force could he have forced my knees apart, It wasn't a physical force, therefore, that made me slowly open them so his knee could slip between mine. No, he didn't force his way there nor did he didn't open mine by his bodily strength alone. It was a completely different force that caused me to welcome his leg between mine, to invite it to examine my bare thighs and to let it slide between my legs until it found the hem of my, rather short, denim skirt. Yes it wasn't physical, it was part emotionally, but, I realised with a jolt, it was mainly sexual. 

And that shocked me for I rarely felt such a strong feeling for someone. I've mentioned several times in this bio that I feel I'm a little odd with regard to my attitude towards sex. This was just another example of that oddness. I've been chatted up by fantastic looking guys aged anywhere between my age and mid thirties and rarely if ever do I get a strong sexual yearning for them. Yet here I was sitting in a wine bar, my hand being held and caressed, my thighs being rubbed by the leg of a man well old enough to be my father. Here I was almost creaming myself as such intimate and romantic things were said to me by a man that was over fifty. Yes here I was, wanting to be fucked by a man that was more than thirty year older than me; and one that was balding and a bit paunchy at that!

I think he realised what I was thinking? How? I have no idea but by some form of silent communication I'm sure he picked up my vibes; ESP perhaps. He took my hand in both of his and lifted it up to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand easing his knee further between mine as he did, thank god for the red and white check table cloth. He leaned forward and kissed me softly on my cheek. I didn't demure or try to stop him. Why would I when I acknowledged that was what I wanted?

"You're a very beautiful woman Sammi," he breathed, instinctively it seemed, knowing exactly the sort of thing I wanted to hear. He kissed my cheek again and whispered. "Very beautiful with the most alluring body and figure."

I'd remained silent as he'd turned the pressure on, but now I was beginning to feel a bit like that scene in "When Harry met Sally." As he was verbally seducing me, caressing my hand, kissing my cheek and in a way, sort of fucking me with his leg, I wondered whether it was possible to be made to cum from those actions alone. I was more and more thinking that it was, for I'm sure my panties were soaked and I knew my nipples were exploding.

"Come to my flat Sammi, let me love you there," he whispered as he licked the back of my hand and stared into my eyes.

Chapter 2

It was probably the most romantic fuck I'd ever had. In fact that entire evening was probably the most romantic evening I'd ever had, albeit in a rather old fashioned way. 

We'd caught a cab to his flat in that hinterland of an area between Euston and Camden Town: a nothing sort of area that didn't seem able to decide whether it was on the up or going down. It was a second floor walk up flat in a fairly large town house, nicely furnished with that sort of fading elegant look that so appeals to the well to do and aristocracy and, so it seems, to fading actors.

He turned one lamp on but no more. The lights from the street created a nice, dim quite romantic glow to the large lounge. He made no pretence that this was anything other than us going to have sex. He didn't make small talk offer me a drink or ask me to sit down. None of that was necessary, he knew it and I knew it. We were there for one reason and one reason alone, to make love.

He took me in his arms and kissed me. No preamble or asking permission. It was a wonderful kiss; as far as I was concerned it was the kiss of a master lover. He held me tight, he moulded our bodies together and his lips found mine. Our mouths were closed as our lips touched but they slowly opened as they were pressed together. His tongue licked its way round my lips, against my gums, over my teeth and into my mouth. He licked the roof of my mouth, the inside of teeth and my tongue. He was patient, slow, methodical and amazingly erotic.

His hands were running up and down my back. They fiddled with my bra strap, the waist band of my short denim skirt, which was fashionably just a whisker above my pubis line and the top of the crease in my bum, and the hem of the pink, loose, short sleeved, scooped neck, silky top. They seemed to be saying they'll all be attended to in time, but not just yet. 

He knew as well as I did that I was powerless to stop him undressing me, that I wouldn't be able to resist him taking my clothes off and that there was no way anything could hamper me being naked for him. It was as inevitable as night following day, but there was no hurry; after all experts, master lovers have no need to hurry, do they.

"I am going to make the most wonderful love to you Sammi," he murmured into my ear as his fingers ran through my long blonde hair and up and down my neck sending shivers through my entire body.

"Mmmm, that'll be nice" was all I could rather inanely murmur back.

"That is what you want isn't it?" he asked piling my hair on top of my head. "Yes Jon, yes it is I gasped," unable to think or breath properly let alone make sensible conversation.

"Good, Sammi, that's so good, for that's what I badly want to do. I can't remember so utterly desiring any woman as I do you."

God what language I thought. Sure a bit stuffy and formal, very old fashioned and quite grandiose but to a twenty year old romantic like me it was pearls of wisdom, phrases from heaven and words that make girls drop their knickers. 

As phrases such as:

"I have so wanted you since the moment I saw you,"

"I lie awake at night thinking of nothing but your face and wondering at the beauties your body holds,"

"I dream of seeing your young firm breasts, your hard, pink nipples and you pert, firm bum."

"We'll make perfect, totally wonderful orgasmic love Sammi,"

rolled over me, I was ready for anything. He had been priming me all evening and was now ready to fire both barrels, hard and fast.

He took my hand and led me to his bedroom. It was quite small but had a double bed. It was dim, but not so dark that we couldn't see each other. We stood facing each other alongside the bed, he was holding my hand. He brought that up to his mouth and kissed the palm; he took one of my fingers slightly into his mouth and softly sucked it. He ran his tongue up and down that finger, he chewed it, gently and then once more took it into his mouth but this time as far as it would go. I was mesmerised by this. He was doing all the things to my finger that girls do to men during oral sex. As I watched so my finger became a cock and so I sort of became a man, he became woman and we made this incredible oral love that ended up with him pulling my body against his as he sucked three of my fingers in his mouth.

We didn't speak, I think we'd gone beyond words, they simply weren't needed.

He stopped face fucking my fingers, he let go of my hand and moved away a foot or two. His eyes boring into mine he started undoing the buttons on his dark blue, heavy cotton shirt. One by one slowly exposing the fairly matted hairs on his broad chest; I couldn't help noticing that there was a fair amount of grey amongst them. I suddenly thought I'd never been to bed with a man with grey hairs on his chest and I realised he must dye the hair on his head. I almost giggled at the thought.

His shirt was fully undone and his fingers were now undoing his leather pleated belt. He was so confident and so assured and I found that very sexy and such a turn on. He still hadn't taken his eyes from mine, it was as if he was reading my thoughts and manipulating my mind. Manipulating it to the extent that, crossing my arms and reaching downwards, I took hold of the hem of my top. I saw approval in his eyes as his belt came undone and he slowly pushed his zip down, Between the opened edges of his shirt I could see that, although a little overweight and with the matted graying hairs, his chest was full and quite muscular.

His eyes seemed as if they were telling me what to do and slowly, a bit like a stripper I suppose, I lifted my top up and up. It went over my breasts, onto my shoulders, over my face and head until it was off. I held it for a moment as we stared at each other. Then, as if on cue, we both dropped our tops to the floor. The look in his eyes as they roamed over my chest focusing more and more on my breasts almost made me squirm with sexual want.

I looked down. I was wearing a white, almost transparent bra. I knew that he'd be focusing on the dark bumps in the bra where, even in the subdued light, my hugely erect nipples would be very evident. And the more he stared so the harder they seemed to become. And of course as they became harder so I became more and more aroused, more excited and more and more turned on. And as that happened so I became more and more receptive to the unspoken persuasions that his masterful gaze conveyed to me. I think I was smiling a little, for that was reflected by more of a glint in his eye and some movements in his lips, as now without thinking I reached both hands behind me. As I struggled momentarily with my bra clasp so, inevitably, my 33c boobs were pushed forward and thrust upward, thankfully making them look larger and less like the tits of a young girl, as they usually did.

I loved the look in his eyes as he saw that and saw my breasts straining against the thin fabric of each cup. It was a look I'd seen so often now. It was the look that photographers have when they snap away at me, the look when I undress, expose my breasts and open my legs to flash my most personal places for the lens of their cameras. Yes it was the look of adoration of and lust for my body; the look that exhibitionists such as I so badly need and ravel in.

He broke the silence. Standing there just in his boxers, his erection clear and obvious and giving him absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever he sighed as I dropped my bra to join my top on the floor.

"Oh Sammi your breasts are sublime."

He reached his hand out and gently ran the back of his fingernails across the swell of one of my breasts, into my cleavage and then up and over my other one. He came back again. This time though, his fingertips fluttered across the equator of each mound, across each apex, across the circumference of each orb, across, of course, each nipple. Each straining, hard, aching, pulsating nipple; each inflamed, engorged, seething, sensitive nipple. Each nipple that was showing my arousal, so signifying my need for sex, and clearly indicating my total and utter desire for this man, who was almost old enough to be my grandfather, to fuck me. 

As so gently he caressed my breasts and nipples in a way they'd never been before he was making low moans and deep sighs, looking into my eyes and whispering how adorable I was; all very hedonistic and ego massaging stuff indeed.

Considering he was as old as he was and that I was barely out of my teens, that I was a photographic model and he was an actor with a body turning paunchy, a head of hair that was balding and grey chest hairs he was amazingly self-assured in the sexual arena.

Without waiting for me, without checking to see whether I was ready and without any further ado, he slid his boxers down and off in one series of quick movements. He stood before me proudly naked and superbly and rampantly aroused. He was certainly no Adonis, but the way he held himself, the manner in which he behaved towards me and the total air of authority and control he had more than made up for that. Perhaps he's gone into porn movies I wondered with a wry smile?

He stood with one hand on his hip the other hanging down by his thigh his outward pointing idly rubbing his erection. He smiled. He looked me up and down and said in his rich, deep voice.

"I think it's your turn now Sammi, don't you?"

Again I had no thoughts other than to comply with his suggestions. He had a total hold over me and his almost mute power of persuasion was something I'd never before experienced.

I undid the brass button on the skirt. I slid the short zip down. I wriggled the skirt down over my bum and hips and I let slither down my legs to the floor. I stepped out of it. I looked into his eyes and felt a surge of really high octane arousal at the sheer level of lust and desire I saw there.

"Oh Sammi, Sammi," he murmured his eyes sweeping up and down my legs, round and round my boobs and then down onto the thin pink thong that was as good as see-through. I knew he'd be able to see my neatly trimmed pubes through the material and wondered whether my wetness had marked it. I also wished I was more conscientious with my washing, for then I'd have been wearing matching undies and not the odds and sods he was seeing.

My hands were shaking as I slipped them into the elastic of the thong. It always seems to me to be a really symbolic moment when a woman takes her panties for her lover. More so than when he pushes them down or even when he rips them from her. By her doing it she's offering herself isn't she? She's voluntarily removing the last bastion of her defences, the remaining separation between her and her nudity, and the last vestige of respectability. Once they've gone she's vulnerable, open and wantonly available, well at least that's how I felt when I pushed my panties down and reached towards my foot to take them off. 




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 11



As I stood up, now totally naked, so Jon reached for my hand, the one holding my panties. He gently pulled them from me. His eyes boring deep into mine he put them to his face and rubbed his nose in the gusset, taking deep breaths as he did so. I'd heard of men smelling their lover's panties, but I had no experience of it. I would have thought I'd feel at least a little bit odd watching a man do that, but I didn't. As Jon ran them over his face standing naked before me, so I found it not at all off-putting; not a major turn-on, but certainly an action that very much went with the circumstances.

Still holding my panties in his hand he put his arms on my shoulders. He looked deep into my eyes for a moment and then kissed me long and lovingly. Slowly his arms went round me, they pulled me to him, he pressed himself against me and our bodies molded together. My breasts were squashed against his chest, the fronts of our legs were as one and of course his erection surged up the softness of my stomach. It was all rather lovely.

He squirmed his cock against me and cupped the cheeks of my bum in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded them all the time kissing me so beautifully. He stroked my bum he pinched it, rubbed it and caressed it. He was doing that for ages, but I didn't care, I loved it. I have such a sensitive bottom, all over and between the cheeks. And somehow he seemed to know that. His fingers probed and prodded, slithered and slipped everywhere. Over my cheeks, between them, on the entrance and further onto and into the slimy wetness of my pussy that was wet to overflowing.

I got my hand between us and felt my fingers tingle with want as they found and then ran up and down his erection. It was everything an erection should be; hard, warm, smooth and slightly throbbing. It felt lovely.

We at last went to bed, but clearly not yet to make love, well not as I knew it. He positioned me carefully on my front and lay beside me. He kissed me and ran his hands through my hair, ruffling it, piling it up on my head and then, as he shoved his tongue very deep into my mouth pulling it, quite hard.

"Oooo," slipped from my mouth.

"Sorry my love, don't you like it?" He asked not in any way, though, lessening the tension.

Funnily in all (sic) my sexual career, I'd never been confronted with the pain thing. I'd never had full anal intercourse, been tied up or restrained. None of my motley gang of now seven male lovers had suggested any form of beating, BDSM or anything that most people might call kinky. And to be truthful I'd never really given that side of sex much thought but now having my hair pulled in a way that hurt me I was forced to. 

It was odd, but then with me many aspects of sex seem to be odd; so much so that I'm beginning to think that odd is natural and natural is, oh shit, I don't know, far too deep a topic for me. But it was strange to me that the pain from my head was merging with the sexual pleasures his other hand was providing by stroking all over the back of my naked body. And the rather aggressive nature of him tugging my hair as I lie somewhat restricted beside him, was in stark and I have to say pleasurable, in an odd way (that bloody word again), contrast to the tender kisses he was planting all over my face and lips.

Jon had slid the hand that wasn't tugging my hair down my back and had reached my bum, He'd stroked it and squeezed it and that, together with the kissing and tugging of my long blonde hair, had created the most unusual, yet wonderful combination of feelings.

"No, er yes, yes, it's ok Jon," I replied, not at all sure that it was ok or why I was saying that.

"You have the most glorious arse I've ever seen," he murmured as he stroked it so very gently. He repeated all he'd been doing when we were standing beside the bed but now the emphasis of his caresses was between, as opposed to on, my cheeks. He eased my legs apart and with them went the cheeks of my bottom. He spent ages gently running his fingertips along that sensual groove, on, over and past the extra sensitive entrance to my anus, onto the base of spine in one direction and into the totally sodden mess that was my pussy in the other.

I was starting to cum. I just couldn't help it. I don't think anyone, even DD or Stephanie had worked me up so much as this fifty plus year old man was now doing.

"Oh God Jon, I'm cumming," I moaned as my entire body started to shudder.

"I know Sammi that is the idea you know."

Even in the throes of my strong orgasm I couldn't help smiling and saying.

"Oh shut up."

All hell broke loose in my mind. As my body shuddered and shook with the sensations I couldn't help realising that I was cumming without any form of penetration, without my clit being rubbed or the lips of my pussy being stroked. Yes Jon made me cum by merely stroking my body and my bum.

But as I soared up onto the wonder wall of such incredible feelings another thing happened. Jon smacked my bottom several times. Not that hard and not that much, but enough to make my bum sting and me recognise what he was doing. I didn't, though, think that much of it. I put it down to being just one of those spontaneous things we might all do when sexual hugely stimulated; like pinching too firmly, squeezing a breast or a cock too hard, scratching or biting. Nevertheless, the combination of the pain from him pulling my hair, the stinging from where he'd spanked my bottom and the pleasure he was giving me with his fingers made me cum, very heavily indeed.

He then fucked me. Straightforward, me on my back, him on top, my legs wide open and wrapped round him. It was quite quick and quite hard. There was obviously no foreplay. He didn't need to get me wet and I didn't need to get him hard, what we'd been doing for the past half hour or so had done both of those necessities. He didn't mess around either. 

I'd hardly finished my orgasm when he turned me onto my back and I watched as he slid into a condom, a black one I noted with a tad of amusement. My pussy was still tender and my breasts and nipples were still pulsating from what he'd just done to me when he laid on top of me. I willingly opened my legs and wrapped my arms around him as he held his cock against my lips. I was obviously soaked and my lips were inevitably bloated with the blood that rushes to them during an orgasm; I'm told that makes a woman's pussy tighter, As I've also been told by DD many times "you have such a wonderfully tight cunt," then I must have almost been strangling Jon; there were no complaints though. No complaints, just a straightforward hard and fast fuck and that, to be honest is what I wanted. Well actually what I most wanted would have been to have waited for a while to let my climax fully subside, have a few drinks, loads of foreplay and then a long languid fuck or two. But I wasn't experienced enough to even say to him what I would have preferred, let alone directed events that way. And in any case I think I am much more of a follower as far as that's concerned.

So a quick fuck it was and I was on my way home shortly after.

Chapter 3

We'd agreed to have the dinner we'd discussed earlier on the coming Friday, the day after tomorrow. 

Even though I was busy with studying lighting and sound for college and having a three hour modeling job on the Thursday, I thought about that, Jon and what we'd done quite lot over those two days.

I had a long time to think when I was on the tube with my suitcase on the way to the studio right out in Middlesex at Harrow on the Hill, very near to the famous school that counts Winston Churchill amongst its old boys. I was going to a studio that has a large, secluded garden that enables the photographers to work outside; I find it strange actually to be asked to lie naked and open legged with shrubs or plants all round me. But then these photographers think they're pretty artistic and seem to draw some form of symbolism between a girl's cunt and the petals on a flower. Certainly beats me, but the £350 I was earning for the indoor/outdoor shoot made me think, "Who cares?"

My thinking was along these lines.

I liked Jon and clearly I fancied him, I mean I'd fucked him hadn't I?

He did something to me no others had done. Just how and why I couldn't say, but he did. I found him intellectually attractive. Maybe a father figure, was that it? A deeply buried desire to have sex with my dad? Shit I was already getting some hoots for my mum, not that as well, surely? Not a threesome with my mum and dad? I told you I was odd as far as sex is concerned didn't I?

But there were limits weren't there? Could I really feel comfortable on a date with a man of his age? Could I cope with the stares and the whispers and the questions, if anyone at the college found out, as they were bound to do?

As I posed for the four photographers my mind kept returning to Jon. Lying on a tartan blanket underneath a large oak tree naked apart from black, seamed, fishnet, holdup stockings and high heeled, black patent leather stilettos as the cameras, which were all digital I noted, clicked away, I thought of his obsession, or so it seemed, with my bum. I thought how amazing it had been to be coaxed to cum with hardly any vaginal or clitoral stimulation and no penetrations at all. I would never have believed it, but it had happened. I thought about the way he'd pulled my hair and how surprisingly that had added to the excitement. And I also thought about how as I was climaxing he'd smacked my bottom several times.

The combination of thinking about Jon and the feelings I always seemed to get now when I posed naked, was nearly making me cum. So it wasn't hard for me to make the facial expressions the photographers like. It also wasn't at all hard for me to give this group that added bonus of the model, caressing her tits, of her nipples hardening and of her hands wandering downward and touching her pussy. They didn't have to ask me, I did it naturally and willingly.

Chapter 4

I could hardly believe it. I'd heard of it of course, but so far had never experienced it.

Jon's cock that was just about to fuck me had gone soft. One moment he had a full erection, I'd stroked it as he'd kissed me and the next as he tried to enter me so he lost it.

"Oh fuck, bollocks," he moaned his head falling onto my chest. "I'm sorry."

"What is it, what's the matter?" I asked genuinely concerned that perhaps he was ill, or worse was having a heart attack.

"I've lost my fucking erection, that's what's the bloody matter," he groaned rolling off me and lying on his back.

"Never mind, don't worry, it'll come back."

"Yeah, you reckon."

"Yes. Yes of course it will, I'll make it come back Jon," I whispered in his ear as I ran my hand down his body, across the slight swell of his stomach and into his pubic hair. I was so used to finding a man's cock sprouting up from them and pointing northward that I was surprised at first not feel his like that. I could hardly remember ever before holding a flaccid penis; I mean it would such an insult wouldn't it to be naked with a guy who hadn't managed to get it up? But that's where we were and that's what we had to cope with. It's not all plus points, I thought ruefully, having a yen for older men!

I pulled the condom off and dropped it on the floor. I worked hard. I stroked, caressed and gently rubbed it. I put my fingers round it and I pumped it up and down. There may have been a marginal hardening, but not much and certainly nowhere near what I wanted or needed to be fucked by.

And now I badly wanted that. We'd been in his flat for an hour or so after a nice dinner at a charming French bistro in Southampton Row. This time we'd undressed each other and he'd made me cum with his mouth. He was really good at oral. 

We'd played with each other for another twenty minutes or so I suppose, when he'd then rolled me onto my side facing him. He rolled onto his side away from me and fumbled in a drawer on the bedside cabinet. Rolling back again I saw that he'd got a condom, not a black one this time, and was undoing the foil. He'd pushed it on and then turned to face me the slightly greasy rubber pressing into my tummy. We kissed very deeply and I felt him moving to position his cock ready to enter me; the latex covered tip was pressing right against the lips of my pussy. It was, though clearly at the wrong angle so when he pushed he didn't go up me but merely slid along my slit and came to that cul de sac at the back end of it. Nice though that was, it wasn't penetration and it was penetration we both wanted.

He tried again. He pulled my leg up and placed it on his hip and once more pushed forward, again it didn't go in. 

"Oh fuck," he said in frustration.

"Come on let me help you?" I replied reaching down for his cock.

Whether he was already losing his hardness or not I don't know but he pushed my hand away.

"No it's ok. Lie on your back."

I did as I was told and he maneuvered himself on top of me and laid between my eagerly opened thighs. I felt him reaching down, presumably to hold his dick and guide it in that way; little did I know then just what his real problem was!

This time when he pressed it against my lips it felt different, it was a feel I'd never had there before, it was new to me but somehow I knew what it was. Some instinct or intuition told me that he was losing his erection. And trying to shove a soft cock up a wet cunt just doesn't work does it?

So there was I working on making him hard. 

My pussy had failed when he put it there, my hands clearly hadn't done the job so there was only one thing left, wasn't there? Oddly, despite the sheer romance, the enhanced eroticism and the deep intimacy of our lovemaking, so far I hadn't gone down on him.

I wriggled around moving my body so I could get my mouth to him. On the rather narrow bed I either, had to get off the bed, or kneel alongside him. I chose the latter. Curled up pretty tightly I bent my face to his tummy, took hold of his soft dick and wiggled my body as close to him as possible on the basis that if he was touching my nudity that might turn him on, it usually seems to! 

The way I was positioned mean that my knee was pressing into his hip, my legs were at about a forty five degree angle to the side of his body and my bum was about level with his armpit, but well in reach of his hands.

I licked his rather hairy tummy first. Actually I wasn't at that time very experienced in giving oral, in fact I'd probably given more oral sex to Steph and Sandra than I had to l the men I'd been with. Holding his limp dick up I ran my tongue along it. Nothing happened.

I cradled his scrotum in the palm of my hand and rolled his balls around loving the feeling of them against my skin. At the same time I held his penis and kissed the uncircumcised tip. Again nothing.

"Oh Sammi I'm sorry, it happens when you get older."

"Don't worry," I replied slightly turning my bent body so that more of my leg pressed against his side.

I resumed my oral encouragement thinking a couple of times that there were some signs of movement.

I had it in my mouth when I felt his hand on my thigh. It slid upwards. I felt such warmth towards him that despite his problem he still wanted to please and pleasure me. I opened my legs a little and sucked hard on the tip of his cock, something I'd read about in a novel; I mean where else does a girl learn to give blow jobs, there's no training manuals on it are there.

His fingers lipped inside me. They ran round my lips, both the inner and outer ones. They touched my anal entrance and pressed on my clit. It was rather lovely and I wiggled my bottom and gave a low moan in appreciation.

Suddenly thwack. His hand hit by bottom, quite hard, so much so that I jerked my head and he slipped out. Thwack, smack he hit me twice in quick succession. I grunted and put his cock back in my mouth.

More thwacks and more smacks, each probably a littler harder. He was spreading them all over both of my cheeks. I pumped him in and out of my mouth. He was hardening, very slightly, but I'm sure it wasn't my imagination.

I looked behind and saw that my bum was in a position where it was difficult for him to reach. I wiggled myself a little further away and watched Jon half roll onto his side. That meant that not only could one of his hands more easily reach and smack my bum, but that the other could reach my dangling breasts and with some fumbling my clit as well.

Clearly realising that I wasn't averse to what he'd been doing, he hit me several more times. He was now doing it harder and it was stinging, but it wasn't too painful. Amazingly though, as each time he smacked me, and now he'd found a sort of rhythm, his cock seemed to jerk in my mouth. Each smack saw him harden and grow a little. 

He was now spanking me with a steady series of smacks that covered every inch of each cheek and was now occasionally drifting down onto my thighs. He was grunting and groaning and moaning and muttering how wonderful I was and what a magnificent ass I had.

Then I had what is in many ways, I now know, the most exciting thing a woman can experience; a man's cock growing to its full erection in her mouth.

And as Jon's cock reached its fullness so now he was thoroughly spanking me. He was though, alternating smacking my bum with stroking my pussy and tits, combining giving me stinging pains with glorious sensations, yes he was using pain and sexual stimulation in equal ingredients to produce the most amazing cocktail of emotions in my mind and feelings in my mind and body.

And I knew that meant just one thing. I was starting to cum. He must have felt that. When I cum I shudder, I almost convulse at times. My body stiffens and I find it hard to get my breath, especially when my mouth is stuffed full as it was now.

I was moaning, groaning, grunting and whining, as much as one can with a cock in your mouth. I was shuddering hard. I was gripping his cock and slobbering up and down it as if it was the most delicious tasting object in the world. I was licking, kissing, chewing and sucking it. I was ramming it deep into my mouth and then sucking the bulbous head as if it was a lollipop. At times I shook and shuddered, so his cock would pop out of my mouth and then I'd cuddle it against my cheek, chin or lips. At that moment I was in love with his cock.

As in love with that as I was, so he was with my bum. Whimpering and whispering how marvelous it was he'd stopped his regular slapping of it now. Instead he was stroking it, caressing it, rubbing my juices over it, licking it and mixing his spittle with my cum. The stinging was still there but that had become something I just cannot describe. Something mystical almost, a combination of the marks, the redness, and the sounds as he'd smacked me and the combination of him hurting and soothing me almost simultaneously. God if only my descriptive abilities were good enough to get across to you all just what that felt like.

And then he just exploded. He did warn me that he was about to cum, but that was too late. Too late for me to get his cock in me, so he could fuck me, too late to get it out my mouth and too late for him to stop. But then I didn't want him to stop. 

I'm always a little charry of having any form of sex with a new partner when it's unprotected. I'm especially concerned when it's with a guy in the theatre for so many are bi, so even greater extra care is needed. But as is often the case we were both far too carried away to stop, far too aroused to do anything different and far too into each other and what we were doing to give a second thought to the safeness of it.

His cum was spurting into my mouth. I couldn't keep his cock in there, I felt as though I might gag or choke. So then he was shooting over my face and as I leaned back onto my tits. I couldn't believe how much he was producing for it just seemed to go on and on and on.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 11



So much for older guys not being able to get it up.

Chapter 5.

"Let me do your hair," Jon said. 

It was a Sunday afternoon two weeks later. I was in his flat. He'd asked me to come round as he had a special treat for me. I had no idea what that could be. Our sex since that time he'd cum on my face had been fairly straightforward, although he clearly had an anal obsession for his focus was so much on my bum. He'd lightly smacked my bum a couple of times since that first amazing time when he'd lost his hard on, but nowhere near as strongly as he had then.

It had been the time, two days, after the spanking when he'd asked if I'd ever had anal intercourse. I'd told him no and I didn't feel ready for it just yet.

"I understand Sammi and I'll never push you to do anything you aren't comfortable with," he'd said in his polite and diplomatic, old fashioned manner.

"Are you ok with what I did to your bottom last time though?" He'd asked obviously referring to the spanking.

"Yes Jon, I suppose I am."

"Have you done that before?" He asked pulling me closer to him on the sofa.

"No, never," I replied wondering what was going to happen when he made me stand in front of him. He turned me round and with that enormous sexual self-confidence that so turned me on he said. 

"Take your jeans down for me Sammi please."

My hands were shaking as I eased the zip down. It hadn't entered my head for one second to refuse, so quickly I'd pushed my jeans down round my knees. I was of course acutely aware that his face would now be right in line with the cheeks of my bottom. The full rounded cheeks, the cheeks that ballooned out from the white thong, the cheeks that were still a bright, burning pink in colour, yes the cheeks that showed the marks of the strong spanking, the cheeks that were covered in his trophy markings.

"Oh baby," he'd breathed as he so gently ran the tips of his fingers over them. "My lovely baby," he'd whispered.

"What is it Jon?."

"Oh I so love your bum."

Looking over my shoulder at him I said with a smile. 

"Just my bum?"

He smiled back and said, slightly worryingly. 

"Oh OK all bums, well nice shaped ones." I didn't pursue whether that mean bums of the male as well as female versions!

"What do you want to do to my hair?"

"I want to wash and dry it, comb and brush it and then put it into two pigtails. Is that ok?"

Quite intrigued by the erotic possibilities of what Jon was suggesting I'd replied that it was. I vividly recalled the time at uni when Stephanie had washed my hair. Her fingers massaging my scalp and the back of my neck as I pushed myself backwards against her tummy and occasionally her breasts, really was one of the sexiest non sex, if you get my meaning, situations I'd encountered.

"Shall I undress?" I asked, "you wouldn't want to soak my clothes would you?"

"Yes please, but wrap this towel around you," he said handing me a large, fluffy beige coloured towel.

He walked out the room and I undressed completely and wrapped the towel round me.

Jon came back wearing a rather old fashioned, long, silk, blue and green, paisley patterned dressing gown; I was almost surprised that he wasn't wearing a cravat! He led me to his bathroom. He'd placed a chair with its back to the sink and indicated for me to sit there. He pulled the chair back so that the front feet came off the ground and the back rested against the sink.

"Lean back Sammi, put your head back," he whispered.

He took my long blonde hair in his hands and simply held it for a while just running his fingers through it, making low moans in his throat. My eyes were closed. I felt warm water being poured over it; water that was wonderfully the perfect temperature. Then he poured some shampoo onto my head and his fingers tenderly rubbed it into my scalp.

It was gorgeous and I felt in heaven

As Jon massaged my head and rubbed the shampoo into my hair so he moved from one side to the other of me and the chair. He'd press himself, mostly lightly, against my hip, knee or arm. Sometimes though, it was more overt and I'd feel his tummy or his, what seemed to be at least, semi-erect cock against me. And that was exciting.

I was laying back on the chair the back of my neck and head over the sink. My body was at an acute angle, my feet tucked onto the rail between the legs of the chair. The towel had, inevitably, ridden up a little bit, but as it was such a large one it was still only mid thigh. I'd wrapped the top edge around my body just above my boobs and one side was tucked into the other.

As I was coming to expect from John he was once again creating a wonderful scenario. To him, so he'd explained, making love was like the theatre, it needed to be staged, it should be dramatic, it might require roles to be played, but most of all it had to be memorable. And I have to say, throughout my short affair with him, he continually achieved those objectives, even when he lost his erection as he did several times.

This time, I had the continual sound of the running water merging with the lovely classical music that he was always playing; I think it was Bach violin concertos. I had the warm water on my head and the scented, creamy shampoo in my hair. His fingers were massaging my scalp, something I find highly erotic even when done by a stranger of a hairdresser, and his hands were running through my hair. I had the frequent unseen, as I had my eyes closed, touching of his body against mine, the silk of his robe on my skin and the vulnerability of my nearly supine, almost naked position.

I felt the edges of the towel on my thighs being opened and then nothing. He resumed washing my hair. They were opened more, but I couldn't tell just what was on show. They were replaced. He carried on washing my hair making sure my head was continually pushed back so I couldn't see; in any case with the water running over my forehead and at times across my forehead meant I had to keep my eyes closed. I felt him pulling on the tucked in edges of the towel across my chest. The pressure loosened and I felt the air on my body as he clearly opened the edges and looked at me. I could feel him pulling the two edges apart all the way down from the top to the bottom. It was a weirdly exciting sensation to know he was looking at my full nakedness but I couldn't see him.

His fingers so softly touched my nipples; nowhere else, just the tips of each nipple, just the very end, gently and softly. There were a couple of immediate reactions. My nipples, of course, exploded into hardness like two pebbles and shudders of sexual pleasure and expectancy, probably in equal amounts, rushed through me.

I moaned, though I didn't say anything. The scene we were creating didn't call for words, simply deeds

Now he was holding each nipple, between his fingertips, his nails pressing into them, fairly hard. In effect he was pinching them, hard, he was squirming them around and he was pulling them. Pulling them to a length, or so it felt, they'd never been pulled before. Pulling and then letting go and then repeating that. "A bit like milking a cow," I thought to myself almost smiling.

It was remarkable, it was unthinkable and so surprising, but I felt as if I was going to cum. Could that happen? Could a man make a woman cum just by arousing her nipples? But then I suppose lying back on a chair, having one's hair washed as your lover slowly reveals your nudity and presses his evident hardness against your arm or hip is a little more than just having your nipples played with, isn't it? Whatever, he was doing it again. Just as he had when he played with my bum that first time, he was close to making me cum without penetration, or this time even touching my bum or pussy.

"Please Jon, please?" I whimpered, as under the running mixer tap my head began to roll from side to side.

"What Sammi, what does Sammi want?"

"Oh you know Jon, you know," I groaned reaching out trying to touch him. In my highly aroused state I suddenly wanted a cock. I wanted to feel it, hold it, rub it, have it against me or have it in me. But he moved away, apparently that wasn't in the script.

"Tell me what you want."

"To cum, I need to cum. I want you to make me cum."

"You want me to make baby cum?"

"Yes, yes please I do."

He didn't say or do anything for a few moments other than to release my nipples and go back to washing my hair.

I felt so frustrated. He'd taken me this far and was now refusing me the needed outcome, the required result, the essential solution; yes, he not only refused me his cock, but also wasn't making me cum, or so it seemed. Well that's what he thought, I had other ideas.

My hand found my nipples and repeated what he'd been doing. They found my breasts and squeezed and kneaded them, pinched and pushed the two mounds together as they continued squeezing and pulling the nipples. It was happening, well starting to happen; yes I was beginning to cum.

Even had I wanted to I couldn't have stopped my right hand, my masturbating hand that is, slithering down my body. It slid easily across my flat smooth tummy, into the little thatch of tawny coloured pubes and right onto my clit. I opened my legs a little. All other considerations fled from my mind as the extreme sensations reverberated out from that delicious piece of sensitive gristle. I rubbed myself and gripped my left tit as I masturbated myself to a full and wonderful orgasm.

I'd almost forgotten where I was when Jon's voice brought me back to reality.

"Mmmm that's pretty naughty isn't it? Quite a dirty little girl aren't you?" he asked turning off the tap and straightening the chair. I sat before him naked, my wet hair all straight hanging down around my face onto my shoulders, my upper thighs smeared with my own female excretions.

"Aren't you?" He repeated.

"Am I, why?" I asked, finding it quite easy and fairly natural to fall into the role-play.

"Wanking yourself like that in front of me," he said tweaking one of my bow soft nipples. "That's very naughty and when you're naughty, what should happen?" he asked. 

"I don't know," I replied looking at him.

"Oh Sammi I think you do know, or I think you can guess can't you?"

I could guess now where this was going and my pulse started to race a bit.

"No Jon," I replied as coolly as I could muster, "I don't"

"Well when little girls are naughty they have to be punished don't they."

I was now sure where this was leading and my heart started to pound. Was that with fear or excitement, trepidation or anticipation I wondered?

"Yes," I heard myself saying in my confusion, "they do."

"And how should she be punished?" Jon asked his voice tight and a little croaky.

"I don't know," I said quietly, quite in dread of saying what I guess he wanted to hear and what I may well have deep down wanted to happen.

"Then shall I tell you?"

"Yes, yes please," I stammered.

"You have to be spanked don't you? I have to spank your bottom, as I did the other day. That's what you want isn't it?"

Having that question out to me seemed impossible. Hearing those words for the first time in my life when directed towards me was incredible. I'd never thought I'd hear a man say he was going to spank my bum. I'd equally never thought I'd hear a man asking if that's what I wanted.

"Isn't it?" He repeated slightly tersely.

And most of all I never thought I'd hear myself say.

"Yes Jon it is."

"Tell me, tell me what you want Sammi." He insisted turning the screw of extreme eroticism very tight.

"Oh Jon I want you to spank me. I want you to spank my bottom." I whimpered near to tears with want.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 12



I promised that 12 would quickly follow and here it is. I loved writing it for you. I'm really back into the swing so 13 shouldn't be much longer.

If you've read the previous parts you'll know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them I'd strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them. And I do keep referring back to earlier events. Still it's your choice.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

Part 12. Some mum things and finding out what Jon really wants, any ideas?

*

Chapter 1

My life was going crazy, in fact it was going fucking crazy!

It was exam time at college and I was cramming like hell; the price students pay for not studying earlier.

My recent more liberal attitude towards the poses I'd do for the photographers was resulting in an avalanche of bookings, all over London. For those that haven't read Part 10 yet, for "more liberal" read, "flashing my cunt!

DD and his wife had parted and he was pressuring me to shack up with him.

Dad was rarely at home preferring to live in one of his Docklands flats when he was in the UK, which wasn't that often.

Mum was out on some form of razzle a lot of the time, usually it seemed with a group of younger people from her tennis club.

The pair of them, so it seemed, were, emotionally for sure and physically probably, as good as separated.

And I'd got mixed up with an anal obsessed fifty three year old actor who had introduced me to spanking.

See what I mean about fucking crazy, in more than way as well?

On top of all that, mum had decided to have a party at home and had asked me along and suggested I bring some friends. Trouble is I didn't have that many and I didn't feel I could bring Jon who was older than both my mum and dad. So I asked DD and Stephanie.

"In what capacity are you asking me?" She'd asked when I called her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well am I a mate, your lover or just a guest? Do I bring a partner or what? A male or female one even? Can an Essex girl party cope with a pair of lessies turning up?"

"Dunno, I hadn't though that far."

"OK well let me know when you decide."

The party was set for three weeks time. It was being held on a Sunday and hopefully, weather permitting, it would be in the grounds. The plan was an all afternoon and evening barbecue round the pool that people would be encouraged to use. It was one of those pools that was half inside and half out, so even if the weather was a bit dodgy some swimming would be possible. I was beginning to dread though the endless possibilities for things to go awry with people changing into and maybe out of the swimming stuff!

In one of her dafter, snobby moments mum had got the gardener to make a croquet lawn. That and the tennis court, together with a badminton net strung between two trees provided some sport for the more energetic, the well-stocked bar some sustenance for the drinkers and the hugely expensive stereo system in the lounge some sounds for the dancers.

In her indomitable style she'd hired caterers and a party organiser to handle everything, hence she'd get the plaudits for a great party and they'd do the work. Still so what? No point having money and not using it is there?

"What'll dad say when he hears about it?" I'd asked.

Mum looked at me as she climbed out of the pool. She pulled the panties of her bikini up, for, as they do, her's had slipped a bit, as she'd swum her daily twenty lengths. The top of the crease in her bum was clearly and rather titilatingly on show. Towelling her hair as she stood before me the bra of her swim-suit was stretched tight across her full, luscious breasts. Where the coldish water had stimulated her, her nipples were making large lumps in her bikini. And where she was rubbing the towel over her hair the two mounds of such female flesh jiggled and wobbled so enticingly.

"I don't like saying this Sam, but quite frankly I don't give a damn. We have hardly any contact now and I don't expect that to change much in the future.

Turning away from me, she undid the bra of her bikini. Momentarily I saw her gorgeous breasts fully naked. Immediately my mind went back to that time when I'd seen her kneeling in the gym, her leotard pulled down, her personal trainer's cock in her hands. That memory and what I was seeing now made me shudder, probably I acknowledged, with lust and desire. It was excruciatingly arousing to watch her lift each mound and dry underneath it and then rub the towel over each breast, inevitably stimulating her nipples that I saw were bigger, rounder and much darker than mine. I felt a little cheated when she then wrapped the towel round her ending the peep show that she just couldn't realise was so exciting for her daughter.

"Sod it, I forgot my robe, still this'll do, pour me a glass of wine love please?"

As I got the wine from the fridge and poured it, she was wiggling her panties off and drying herself with the large towel. I was in shorts and a tee-shirt; I hadn't bothered with a bra. She was naked apart from the towel. I didn't feel comfortable, I felt edgy, a little concerned and more than a little aroused.

"So what'll happen, do you reckon?" I asked.

"Between dad and me?"

"Yes."

"Not much, I don't think we'll divorce, well not yet, but I can't see things getting better, they've gone too far now."

She got up, walked over to the table and lit a Marlboro.

"You're smoking again then?"

"Yes too much. You?"

"Not much at all, I can't afford, I'm a poor student, remember?" I said referring to how dad had almost disinherited me when I dropped out of uni.

She laughed. "Oh yes I forgot that, he was a bit of a sod wasn't he?"

"Yes a right bastard actually."

"Still I hear you're making a few bob with your er, um, other job aren't you?"

I panicked. What the hell did she mean? What had she heard?

"What do you mean, what have you heard?"

"A friend of mine tells me you're doing some photographic modelling."

Oh fuck, I thought, how do I get out of this one?

"Did he? Who's that I asked?" Playing for time.

"Oh you don't really know him, but I introduced you to those guests I had at that dinner party a few weeks ago. Well Colin is a photographer, commercial stuff in the main."

"So what's he saying about me?"

"Only that he saw your photo in the portfolio of models at the studio he uses in Highgate. He was attracted by the name, Sammi."

"Nah, couldn't be, must be loads of Sams?" I blatantly lied, trying to bluff my way out of it.

"I'm afraid it could be for there aren't that many Sammis are there? Anyway he sent me some photos when I said the same, they're on my PC. He only sent that along with some others this morning"

"Hmmmmm," I mewed thinking as quickly as I could. "Bit hard to beat that then isn't it?"

"Why try, they're actually lovely photos and you've got the most beautiful body."

Speaking without really thinking I retorted. 

"I must have got that from you then."

Mum didn't say anything, but merely looked at me from over the rim of the wine glass that I noted was nearly empty; she'd been drinking quite a lot lately I thought.

Smiling as she finished the wine she said. 

"If you're not quite sure it's you, why not have a peep at the photos?"

I said that I would and she gave me the name of the folders on her PC.

Fortunately they were some of my earlier stuff. Although in a couple I was naked and in one or two I was striking some rather raunchy poses, none were of my more recent open legged stuff.

I was scrolling through them half admiring myself and half worried like hell that my mum had seen them and knew now that I was doing modeling. I know the bit about admiring myself sounds awfully arrogant, but I don't mean it to be. It's just that when I see photos of myself it's as if it's someone else, honest. I can't explain it, but that's how I feel when I look at my breasts, my hardened pink nipples , my bum and my legs. They don't' seem to belong to me, but to another person.

As I was fiddling with the PC looking at those photos so, almost without thinking, I clicked on the web browser key and up came mum's home page, e-bay. I clicked on history and then my computer, nosy little bitch aren't I? Obviously there was one of those little icons with an "e" on it with the file name Highgate. Under that was another with the name Mands, a term of affection my dad and others use for my mother.

I must have had a conflict with myself for, oh at least a seconds, as to whether I should look or not. When I saw that it was a zip file the curiosity certainly got the better of this cat.

There must have been fifty photos in there, all numbered. With shaking fingers I changed the view format to "thumbnails."

"Oh shit," I muttered part in amazement, part in worry and at least a big part in awe. They were all of my mother. They were all of her posing for the camera in various stages of undress, well stripping more like. They were all incredible, very graphic, beautifully lit, focused and taken and stupendously sexy. 

Whoever had taken them was clearly a good cameraman. The photos were better than most that were taken of me. And my mother was a fantastic model. She had that ability to at times use her body to look amazingly sexy, perhaps by holding her large breasts up to the camera, whilst her face was gentile and then vice versa; a pouting full on, come and fuck me if you think you're hard enough look, while showing hardly anything she shouldn't.

I became aroused, but then when around my mum lately that hasn't been hard, it's happened frequently. But now, immediately after seeing her in her bikini, watching her remove that, looking at her just clad in the towel and now ogling at her naked and near naked body on the screen, my feelings of arousal became almost overpowering.

Without even knowing I was doing it, my hand had slid inside my tee. I was stroking my bare breasts and pinching and pulling my nipples as I flicked through one after another of the hugely raunchy photos of my mother. 

Standing, kneeling, sitting and sprawling on a chair, on the floor and on a bed; it wasn't her bed either and it wasn't our house. In jeans and a blouse, panties and bra, just panties, just bra and then just fuck all, but holding her panties. All cleverly posed and so, so horny.

One of my hands slid downwards while the other worked the PC.

Loads of her naked. Her back, sides and front, covering her tits, covering her pubes then covering nothing.

They were fun photos, the cameraman and model were enjoying what they were doing, she was often smiling at the camera, but in a sexy way. They were also photos where there was chemistry between the three parties, my mum, the cameraman and the camera. They were photos that screamed out. "After, maybe during, this we'll fuck." There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that this Colin guy, who I now remembered quite well, and my mother were lovers. There was equally no doubt that they would have finished the session fucking. That was as clear as day to me, for I'd almost been there so many times now!!!

I could feel the warmth starting to flow from my clit throughout my body. But then, when your fingers are in your panties, when they've unfolded those delicious layers of skin and when they're softly rubbing that stalk of such arousal, that's bound to happen isn't it?

I flicked through the photos again, one by one as I now, quite avidly, agitated my clit. I dallied on those I found the most arousing. They were not the more revealing ones, although there wasn't any of her open pussy, but ones of her face and parts of her body, mainly he full breasts. I was more attracted to those where her facial expressions were saying the most, telling more about how she was feeling, illustrating her emotions, displaying her pleasure, enjoyment, anticipation and desire. Yes the ones that were turning me on the most were the ones where she looked turned on. It was as if I was causing those expressions, as if it was me giving her those feelings and turning her on, just as her images were turning me on. I have warned you about my sexual oddness haven't I?

My arousal from my masturbating, the clear display of sexual want on my mother's face in the photos and my latent lesbian desires and needs all combined. They got together to hit me with such a strong surge of sexual feelings that I began to cum. 

I had found my favourite shot. She was standing looking at right at the camera. It was a full length shot of her just wearing panties; they were tight across her pubic mound. Her head was slightly tipped forward her chestnut coloured hair was tumbling onto her shoulders with a few strand across her face. She was holding her breasts, more gripping them really, and pushing them together a bit. Her fingers were spread apart so that between them the pinkness and the hardness of her nipples could be seen. Her boobs looked so luscious and large, a little like, but not as big as, Stephanie's, the first breasts I ever made love to. 

I think it was mainly the look of such want and sexual desire in her eyes that made it my favourite and the one I looked at as I built up my climax. Yes it was that I stared at as I fucked myself looking at a photo of the woman I was imagining was fucking me.

I was quickly into that almost hypnotic state of an advanced orgasm. That state and mood where and when nothing else matters. Nothing can matter, for there's only one purpose at times that like and that's wringing every last ounce of pleasure from what's being done to your mind and body.

In the dim and far off distance of reality I may well have heard a door open and close as I fucked myself, but I couldn't have stopped for any reason.

Chapter 2

That spanking Jon gave me as he fought to recover his erection cost me over £300. I had to pull out of two modeling sessions due to the marks on my bum and thighs. That annoyed me a little. In my saner moments it also put me off the idea of doing anything further in that vein.

But after he had aroused me so much by "washing my hair," all such thoughts were but dim memories. So when he said.

"Sammi, I want to spank you again," I merely nodded.

That nod, though, said so much; more to me actually than to him. It told me that the need that had lain dormant in me all these years hadn't been satisfied. That what he'd done to my bottom last time wasn't a one off. That, although I had felt I might like to stop, there was no way I could. I was intrigued, bemused, excited and scared all at the same time. I was a little disgusted with myself for agreeing so quickly and for clearly wanting more of this practice. Whilst I got so much excitement from what Jon had done to me and although when I thought about being spanked I found myself getting turned on, I did think of it as a rather deviant practice; a little kinky and somewhat of a perversion. But then, hey, it's just sex isn't it?

"Is that OK?" He asked the movement under the dressing gown indicating his excitement at the thought.

Still wrapped in just the towel I looked at him smiling and said.

"Yes Jon."

"I put some clothes in the spare bedroom that I'd like you to wear if you would?" He told me. "Would you?"

"What are they?"

"Oh just panties, a top and a skirt, nothing extreme. I bought them especially for this"

I agreed that I'd put them on and that when I was ready I'd walk into the small dining room.

Laid out neatly on the bed was a white blouse, a striped school tie, a short, thin, pleated skirt, knee length white socks, a pair of white pumps with straps and a pair of panties. There was no bra. The panties were pink. I noticed as I picked them up that they were high waisted and full, but cut at an acute angle at the thighs. They were made of net lace so they were totally see-through. To me they weren't particularly sexy, although a few photographers I modeled for had asked me to wear such full knickers at times, so some men must like them.

I put the knickers on first. The elastic waistband wasn't quite round my waist but then it also wasn't at the bikini panty level that had been so popular in the past, it was sort of mid-way, well at the front that is. At the back it was round my waist. Looking over my shoulder at myself in the mirror I could see the cheeks of my bum being clearly dissected by the elastic at the leg holes of the panties. I could also see that they really were transparent and little was hidden. I could see the dark slash of the crease between my cheeks and when I bent forward as I did a couple of times I could see the puffy outlines of the rear of the lips of my pussy. For some reason just looking at myself like that and visualising Jon doing that later turned me on a little.

I slipped into the blouse. It was of fairly low quality cotton, so it was thin and where I stretched it across my breasts as I buttoned it up I could see the darkness of my nipples. As I looked at that and my beneath the waist near nakedness, I could see my nipples hardening and making very obvious indentations in the cotton. I did up all the buttons apart from the top one. I left that undone and then knotted the tie but left that a little loose. It was a short tie and hardly reached my waist even when loose.

Although my waist is only 23 or 24 inches the skirt was tight, but I could handle that. In fact I quite enjoyed the sensation of being restricted, held in and contained. But then I'd always had a yen to wear a corset, especially a lace-up Victorian one with suspenders and stockings. The hem only came to mid thigh so there seemed to be oodles of my tanned, bare legs on show, presumably that's what he wanted? But then so did all the guys I posed for so what's different?

The socks were thin, white and also tight and reached to just beneath my knees. They made me look younger than my twenty years, again, probably the idea. I slipped into the pumps, messed around with my make-up and hair and then went into the dining room.

"Oh yes Sammi, oh yes," he sighed running his gaze up and down my body. "You look fantastic, and thank you for doing your hair."

I smiled, for as a little afterthought I'd put my hair into pigtails; that seemed a good accompaniment to the schoolgirl uniform!

He was still in the old fashioned, silk dressing gown. It had a tie at the front and had gaped a little at the lapels so his greying hair was on show. He had a stern sort of look on his face as he looked at me and said.

"That was very naughty Sammi."

"What was?" I replied not yet quite up to speed with what he was on about.

"Touching yourself?"

"Oh when you washed my hair?" I asked standing looking at him just a few feet apart.

"Yes, it's naughty for young girls to get so sexually aroused, you should learn to control yourself."

I was beginning to see that he was acting, that he was creating a scenario that we were, as I later found out it's called, role-playing.

"I'm sorry?"

In a stern, fairly, deep voice Jon said. "I'm afraid that's not good enough Sammi."

Not in any way playing a role but being absolutely myself I said rather chirpily.

"Well that's too bad isn't it? I can't be more than sorry."

"No that's true, but you can be punished, and punished you will be."

"Really and how's that going to happen?" I asked now finding myself really getting into the role as I saw the shape and size of his erection under the robe and reveled in his gaze roaming over my body.

I don't often go without a bra, even though my boobs are fairly small. As I stood there before Jon, occasionally moving from foot to foot and as I felt them jiggle and the cotton rub against my frighteningly hard nipples I wondered why I didn't. It was one hell of a turn on and I knew that if I went around like that and people looked at my breasts bouncing around I'd find that even more of a turn on. To look, particularly, a girl in the eye as her gaze wanders over my chest and her mind records that under that flimsy cotton my tits are bare would be so fucking cool that there and then I decided to "burn my bra" in the future.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 12



Jon's soft dulcet tones saying. "I'm going to spank your bottom," brought me back to the present.

Now that we were actually going to do it and in the cold light of day as it were, I felt myself shudder. Part with excitement and part with fear.

"Put your hands on the back of that chair Sammi," he ordered.

I did as he said. The mood was now solemn, the atmosphere electric.

"Now move your feet slowly backwards."

I moved them a little.

"More Sammi, more. More until your arms are almost parallel to the ground, but your legs are straight."

Slowly I did as he asked. By so doing I, of course bent at the waist. I also stuck my bum out and felt the skirt edge its way up my legs.

"Now just stay like that, let me look at you," Jon said very hoarsely.

He walked right round me and the chair. His gaze never left me, he took in everything. The outline of my breasts hanging down, the bumps of my nipples, one of my pigtails hanging down brushing against my boob the other down my back. My rounded bum, my straightened, slightly parted legs, the backs of them almost up to my panties that I thought he probably couldn't quite see, but I wasn't sure.

He kept me like that for ages. I was in the most incredible suspense as slowly as he walked round me he getting closer and closer to my bent over body. He didn't say a word, his rather heavy breathing being the only sounds in the room. He stopped right behind me. Nothing happened as, presumably, he just looked at me. But then gently, dramatically and amazingly erotically he took hold of the hem of my skirt. Slowly, so very, very slowly he rolled that up. He exposed the rest of my legs, my thighs and, of course, my panty covered bum.

"Yes Sammi," that's how I have to punish you," he murmured his fingers running gently over my lace covered bottom. He softly caressed me outside the panties. It was incredibly erotic. To be standing there unable to see him but knowing he was looking at everything I had was, for some reason, such a turn on. He continued stroking me, round and round in little circles. Caressing my bum, loving it, adoring it and I realised, preparing it. Yes he was preparing my bum and he was preparing me for what was to come. And what was to come was him spanking me.

"You have a gorgeous arse Sammi. It's so beautiful it needs to be adored and loved."

His fingers were edging into the elastic at the waist-band of the back of the pink, lace knickers.

"Loved Sammi in a very special way," he went on as he started rolling the panties down.

All of this was so new to me. I'd experienced nothing like this before. Jon was taking me to places I'd never been and wasn't even sure I should or wanted to go. For Christ's sake I was just a twenty year old kid that had only had five or six blokes; alright I'd had a couple of women as well, but there'd been nothing at all like this. Nothing like dressing up as a young girl and having my bum spanked. But I was there and it was happening.

My heart was pounding and my pulses were racing as he eased them further and further off my bum. I was shivering with desire and anticipation as he revealed more of me opening up my womanliness to his lustful gaze.

"Oh Jon," I groaned as I felt the gusset of the panties pulling against my pussy lips. The lace seemed to stick to them, but then, I thought, if my juices were in free fall that would happen wouldn't it?

"Yes Sammi, that means even more punishment, good girls shouldn't cum in their panties should they?"

I didn't think there was a need for a reply.

"They shouldn't should they Sammi?"

"No, no Jon," I gasped the suspense and anticipation being so strong I could hardly speak.

Jon walked round me and sat on the chair. He let the folds of his dressing gown fall down alongside his legs so they were bare almost to the top. I was still leaning on the back of his chair.

"Come here Sammi," he ordered, indicating that I should stand alongside him. I did so.

He didn't do anything for a moment or two but simply ran his gaze up and down me. I didn't know what to do or really what he was going to do. It was totally new territory for me. I'd never been here before, I'd never role-played really and I'd certainly never been in a situation where I was about to be spanked in a planned and considered way. I was, I admit, quite scared. After all men do change with sexual arousal and I was thinking that things could get out of hand.

"What if he wanted more than to spank me? What if he lost control and instead of a spanking it became a beating? What if he then did other things to me that I couldn't even begin to imagine?" I was having these nervous thoughts as he took my hand.

"It's time Sammi," he whispered making it sound, almost, as if he was a prison guard telling a condemned person it was time for their execution. 

"I promise to be kind as well as other things," he whispered as he pulled my hand.

I understood what he was suggesting. Slowly I laid myself over his knees. My hands in front of me just about touching the ground, I lay there my breasts squashed into his legs, my bum in the air and my legs trailing out behind me. Again there was that agonisingly erotic time as he slowly lifted my skirt. This time, though, my panties were already pulled down my thighs, even though part of the gusset was still sticking to me.

Then there was nothing. No touching, caressing or stroking, just waiting. It went on and on. I was so turned on by it, and that I can't quite understand. Sure, I've come to realise, I get a big kick from men looking at me, but this was so much more than that. It was as if I was lying there waiting to be spanked and the man that was going to do that was examining his trophy. He was inspecting what I was going to give him and what he was going to take. Yes he was looking at the arse that he was going to have sex with in this most unusual of ways.

But then suddenly everything changed. For suddenly I heard first and then felt after, him hit me. I'm not sure really what was the most exciting, the noise or the feel of his hand on my bum. Thwack it went again. This time on the other cheek. It hurt. Both began to sting and smart. Smack, smack, smack I heard and felt as he spanked me three more times, alternating between cheeks and avoiding the same place twice.

It was hurting and stinging. I was crying out, gripping his bare ankle and the leg of the chair and squirming as the blows came fast and slightly more furiously. But he never went too far, for as the pain reared up in me he'd stop for a few moments and would gently stroke where he'd been spanking me.

"Oh God," I groaned as I felt things change. I was crying. With pain, with excitement or tension or with anticipation? I didn't know, But then how could I know?

Sure there was a stinging, smarting sensation all over my bum and up and down most of the length of my thighs, but it wasn't any more, just a pain, if that makes sense. It was an ache that was merging with, or maybe was creating, something else. And that was highly sexual. Yes I was starting the first elements of an orgasm.

I squirmed and wiggled knowing my bum would look good like that. But I wanted more. I wanted him to do more to me and I wanted more of him, more of his body, his cock and his sexual loving. I was being taken beyond spanking; he was taking me to places I didn't even know existed. 

He was now hitting me at random without a pattern, or so it seemed. At times he'd smack me several times in quick succession and then just one thwack now and then. And in between them he'd stroke and caress me. It was actually a very strange experience.

His hands now, though, were not just instruments of chastisement. They were now also encouraging me, coaxing me and stimulating me. Instead of just being things that gave me pain they also gave me pleasure. For now, as well as spanking and smacking my bum and thighs, they were also caressing and stroking me. Yes, now, as well as spanking me they were also starting to fuck me. He'd slid one hand between my legs that he'd pushed open. He held that there as with the other he administered the now occasional smacks and the more frequent caresses of my bum cheeks. The one between my legs was roaming all over my pussy, stroking my outer and inner lips, rubbing my clit, which felt like a volcano erupting, and sliding in and out of me.

The combinations of sensations were simply amazing. There was the aggression as he hit me and the tenderness as he caressed me. There was the fearful anticipation of further stinging and pain with the actual massive pleasure of his hand and fingers on my pussy. There was the sensation as those two feelings merged together. And of course there was the continual orgasm that was flooding through me.

But there was now more.

Where I'd squirmed around on his lap the dressing gown had fallen open completely from his waist down. Now, instead of feeling the outline of his erection occasionally pressing against me through the material, I could feel his long, hard, hot, naked cock nuzzling against my bare skin. It was a lovely feeling.

The tail of my blouse had come out of the waistband of the skirt, or Jon had pulled it out, for he was now running his hands up and down my bare back inside the blouse. He was fumbling his hands around my sides clearly trying to get to my breasts that were squashed against his legs. I wriggled a bit trying to give him more access. A little more fiddling around and then, wonderfully, my right boob was grasped by his hand. It nestled neatly right into his cupped palm.

So now he was fingering my pussy and clit with one hand and squeezing my tits with the other as I still lay over his lap. Pure joy.

We both wanted more. I'm not sure just what more he wanted although I suspect that it involved my bum and probably was full anal. That I wasn't ready for. I was in no doubts though as to what I wanted. That was his cock. 

Most of the time I never even think of men's cocks. Even sometimes when I'm making love, the whole penis thing is almost incidental, like something that's there but hardly needs to be and wouldn't be that missed if it wasn't; sort of like mustard with a steak. But then, at other times, it seems to become so amazingly important that I can think of nothing else. That was how it was now. Suddenly I wanted Jon's cock so badly it almost hurt. My bum was on fire, I'm sure it was covered in red marks, he was finger fucking me and squeezing my breasts inside my blouse, yet all I could think of was his cock.

I squirmed on his lap onto my side a little trapping his hand under me and causing him to wince with pain.

"Shit Sam, keep still that hurt."

I couldn't help smiling that he was complaining about getting his hand squashed and the little pain that brought after the spanking he'd given me.

"Oh shut up, don't be a baby," I said rolling onto my side still lying across his lap, albeit in a very precarious position. But like that his erection was exposed to me, his hardness was rearing up before my eyes, yes his straining, ready cock was totally available to me. And boy did that look and feel good as I greedily grabbed it.

"I can't sit like this Sam," he moaned.

"Ok like this then," I said.

I eased myself off his lap and pulled him with me to the floor. Jon fell onto his back and I laid on top of him; there was no way I could have lain on my back for my bum was on fire. That didn't matter though. It didn't matter at all for suddenly it became obvious what should happen. It was the perfect way, the natural way. The most appropriate switching of roles. The most subtle changing of positions. We went from Jon totally dominating me and spanking me like a naughty schoolgirl to me taking control From him finger fucking me to me straddling him. From his fingers pumping in and out of me like a surrogate cock to me impaling myself on his real cock. Yes from he adoring my ass in the most extreme of ways to me being in awe of his cock in the most perfect of ways a woman can be. And that is, of course, sitting astride his erection and taking that right up my cunt.

Like that we fucked each other until Jon exploded inside me with what seemed like, but almost certainly wasn't, an almost endless stream of cum.

After that I slept. I was exhausted; I suppose the pain from being spanked causes that. Before I dozed off Jon had got a bowl of warm water and a soft flannel. He'd carefully washed my bottom and then applied a creamy and wonderfully soothing balm all over each cheek and down the back of each thigh. I hardly remembered that, though, for as he was doing it I was falling asleep.

Chapter 3

It was the day after Jon had spanked me; in fact it was the next morning, around ten. My bottom was still sore and that I think had woken me earlier than I would normally have got up on a non college or work day. As I try to always do I logged on and checked my e-mails. I was surprised to see one from jon.

I could hardly believe the attachments. I knew they were photos, that was obvious before I opened the file. But to see one picture after another of my bum was a surprise. To see the fierce redness on each cheek, the outline of Jon's hands and the pink blotches on the back of each thigh gave me a huge jolt. A jolt and also excitement. They were the marks that bonded the spanker and the spankee. They were his sort of trophy marks and exhibitions of my sacrifice to him. 

Yes, as I had slept after Jon had spanked me, he had taken shot after shot of my injured, stinging, smarting bum that he had so expertly and so avidly just spanked.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 13



It seems incredible that we're already at Part 13. Well over sixty thousand words all about 'lil ol me"! I hope you're all still enjoying me and thanks for the feedback, most of which is gratefully received. I try to reply to all and as quickly as possible. I've made some good friends through the feedback and have found corresponding with them a real pleasure, mostly.

If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.



My bio, Part 13

The party, Stephanie Gordon and mum.



Chapter 1

"I fucked your mother this afternoon."

They were the amazing words that greeted me when I got home.

"Actually I fucked her twice." Those words exploded into my mind.

"Am I hearing right?" I asked myself.

Chapter 2

I had taken two weeks off from modelling. I had to and needed to. Had to, because my bum was showing the trophy marks from Jon's spanking of it. The red patches over each cheek took well over a week to turn to pink and another few days to go back to their natural colours. I checked each day and as I did the memories of that weirdly wonderful, highly exciting, but probably never to be repeated experience, flooded through me.

I needed to, for I'd fallen so far behind with my work for the stage and film production course I was studying and I could see that term end exams were looming. I badly didn't want to fuck this up as I had school and university, but there is always so many diversions aren't there. And the biggest for me was my burgeoning "career" as a photographic glamour model.

Mum was becoming manic in the lead up to the party. 

Oh, I don't think I'd told you that I'd moved back home with her, had I. The flat that my dad owned that I usually lived in with my brother and two lodgers was being knocked about, remodeled as the Americans call it, so was uninhabitable for a couple of months. Although he and mum were now hardly talking and rarely saw each other we managed to arrange for me to stay with her in the family home just outside London in a county called Essex, a bit like New Jersey is to New York, for the US readers.



Chapter 3

"You were right, she does have the most amazing tits and we had the most amazing fuck." 

More and more of this incredible news was being said to me by my friend.

Chapter 4

The party was actually a bit of a washout. And that was in more ways than one. Not only did it piss down with rain all day, typical bloody English summer weather, but also the guests just didn't gel. You know what it's like when you sort of get little cliques forming and people just not mixing.

My view, which my mother didn't agree with, was that it was caused by the way she opened the house up. Some people stayed in the lounge dancing and listening to music, yes she had rented someone to do that, a load were in the dining room where there was an all day buffet and constant drinks. Then there were groups in the conservatory, some were outside under a canopy where there was the, also day long, barbecue. Then, of course, people drifted in and out of the indoor section of the pool either, eyeing up the talent or, taking a dip, or both.

So as I said to her the next day. "There was no centre, no heart and no focal point."

She didn't agree, but quite frankly, I couldn't have given a flying fuck what she thought. I felt she'd made an absolute fool of herself by fawning fairly equally over her personal trainer who, as you know, I knew, and her golf coach, who I'd never seen before. That was in between dancing and cuddling with numerous other men, most of who seemed to be much younger, well five years at least than her.

Strange isn't it, the mother likes younger men while the daughter goes for the older ones? As it happens, I could in other circumstances have quite fancied her two guys, especially the golf coach. I mean I could hardly fancy the PT could I? Think about it, how could I? How could a daughter fancy a guy she'd seen nearly naked with her mother as I had a few months ago? He wasn't just half-naked either, no his erection was in my mum's hands and his were on her bare tits, and very nice tits they were too, as you're only too aware from my recent fantasies!



Chapter 5

"Yes Sammi your mother was almost as good a fuck as her daughter is."

"Are you telling me the truth?" I asked.

"Absolutely, every word is gospel."

"Is she er, um very experienced and into that sort of thing?"

"Yes she seems to be."

"Hmmmmm."

Chapter 6

As it happened, DD didn't come. I got the impression that he and his wife, who'd caught us shagging, a la The Thomas Crown Affair style on the stairs of their house, were trying for reconciliation. Seeing and fucking his young mistress presumably did not sit too comfortably with that.

I had, though, asked a few of my actor friends, but none of my host, (was it two or three?) of "old" friends. Steph was there and she seemed to mix well with the Essex boys and girls. Well she was studying economics and was headed for a banking career similar to many of them and she was probably networking like hell; networking and flashing her great tits as well, I'm sure.

I'd met Stephanie Gordon, Steph as I called her, a few years ago when we were at university. We had both been involved in the university drama society and had starred in the Joe Orton play, "What the Butler Saw", which I had produced. DD, a lecturer at the university had directed it so he and I spent lots of time together. And that time was spent just about equally between discussing the play and shagging. Yes, I seduced him and we had an affair and we still are, just about.

I didn't seduce Steph; she seduced me. She was my first female lover. For the few months I remained at uni I ran parallel affairs with the two of them. They only coincided once and that was after the party at the end of the run of the play. What a way to celebrate with my two special lovers!

Steph was staying with us for a few days after the party, so I hoped, and expected to spend some time with her reacquainting myself with her magnificent tits and her enquiring tongue. She arrived the afternoon of the party. Although we could only kiss each other on the cheeks in the hallway in front of mum when I introduced them, we kissed very, very deeply when I showed Steph to her room.

She was as usual wearing low waist jeans with a tee and a leather jacket. She looked ravishing.

As she crushed me against her full breasts, she muttered.

"God I so want you, you sexy little bitch," as her hand immediately cupped the cheeks of my bum.

"And me Steph," I breathed back as we kissed deeper and ground our bodies together.

"Let me have you right here and now," she moaned into my ear as her hands went under my top and stroked my boobs.

"No Steph we can't, later we will."

I took a couple of days off from college and purposefully avoided having any modelling assignments while Steph was there. Although we didn't literally sleep together, mum's busy social calendar, playing golf and tennis, having lessons for both and meeting friends for lunch, gave us ample time alone. And we used that well, if you know what I mean? Used as in we made spectacular love together.

Lovemaking with Steph was so different to with my other lesbian lover Sandra. There was much more tenderness and caring; everything was gentler and underplayed with Steph, while Sandra was so much more, in your face in everything. Maybe it was because Steph was my first lover and that person often remains special that made our sex was so spectacular. On the other hand, maybe it was because she was just so bloody good at it.

The party ended around two. Mum had a few guests staying and I had Stephanie so after everyone had left we all had a cup of tea in the conservatory. We were all a little drunk and quite tired, but we chatted easily for and hour or so before eventually getting to bed around three.

We didn't even bother with going to Steph's room, she came straight to mine. And to put it simply, we just fucked. We threw our clothes off, moulded our naked bodies together, fell onto the bed and just did everything.

It was all and everything I'd hoped my lesbian reunion with her would be,

Chapter 7

"You don't mind that I fucked your mum, do you Sammi?" Stephanie Gordon asked me.

To say I was gobsmaked when she'd first told me was the understatement of the year. I was so surprised that at first it wouldn't sink in.

"How? When? Where?" I stammered trying to get my head round the thought that my best friend and my lesbian lover had had sex with my mother.

"Well it sort of started at the party, had you told her we were lovers?"

"No, of course not, nobody knows that other than DD."

"Well as we had a drink at the party she asked quite a few questions along the lines of: "How did we get to know each other? How long and how well we knew each other? She was clearly suspicious and was fishing."

"I wonder why?"

"Motherly instinct I suppose. And remember she is bi, like us. Probably just the way you talked about me."

"So did anything else happen at the party?" I asked, my head spinning with all these revelations.

"Yes we sort of flirted a bit. I told her how attractive I thought she was and she said what a good figure I had. We both knew then that we'd have sex."

"How?"

"Just by the look in our eyes, the way we held each others gazes, just as we did." Steph said staring so intently into my eyes that it made me shudder. "And as we finished our drinks and went to move away from the table so her fingers rested on mine, just for a moment Sam, but such a telling one," she went on reaching out and running her fingernails up my bare arm as she whispered. "Just like that."

"So what happened today then?" I asked becoming more and more excited by the moment.

Chapter 8

A couple of afternoons earlier when mum was, as usual, out and Steph and I were lying on my bed naked smoking a little weed. I had opened my heart up to her. 

I'd told her all about how my mum and dad were sort of breaking up, that dad had had a series of girl friends and that they were pretty much leading their own lives. 

I told her about that incredible afternoon I came home unexpectedly from uni and walked into the little gym behind the garage expecting to see mum working out with her personal trainer; his car was in the driveway. I told Steph that instead of seeing them working out I saw them kneeling on the mat, facing each other, the PT's back to the door that he hadn't heard me open. His white tracky trousers with the three blue stripes down them were around his knees, his support pants were around his thighs. My mother's leotard had been pulled down so that one breast was completely bare the other almost. I was struck there and then by what beautiful breasts she had; luscious was the term that came to mind at the time and has been with me ever since. 

She was leaning forward a little making the bare breast dangle which emphasised its fullness and size. Her nipple was very hard. She was holding the PT's cock in her hands and seemed just about ready to bend forward and either slip it between her tits or take it into her mouth.

I told Steph how my mum and I stared at each other but said nothing.

I went on tell her about the time in Spain when I got in bed with her and had an enormous urge to touch her as we lay there watching TV and snoozing whilst it poured with rain outside.

I also told her about the time mum got out of the swimming pool when she was just wearing bikini panties and no top.

"Her tits really are fabulous Steph," I explained.

"As good as mine?" she asked the grass making her giggle quite outrageously.

"Remember her age and that she's had two kids?" I responded.

I related as best I could my feelings as I held the towel out for and wrapped it around her, the backs of my hands grazing across the top of her boobs.

I explained that during the time these events were taking place I'd been having increasingly strong sexual feelings about her.

"Like what you want to have sex with her?" 

"Yes, Steph, yes. I feel as though I want to fuck my mum."

Chapter 8

"Well after you left to go to the college, she asked me if I'd like to play tennis," Steph said by way of starting to answer my question about what had happened today.

"I told her that I didn't have any gear. She looked me up and down, I was wearing my jeans and tee."

"What a surprise?" I joked wondering just what was coming next.

"Yeah right," Steph smiled. "Anyway she then said that we looked about the same size although I'm slightly taller. She was though staring at my tits as she said that. I smiled at her and said softly, in some places I suppose. She smiled back and said well let's say in the important places shall we?"

"Bloody hell she was trying to pull you wasn't she?" I asked.

"Yes Sam, I think she was," Steph replied going to her bag and getting the tin that held her joints. "How about we go to your room with these and I'll tell you everything that happened."

"Mmmm, good idea," I replied the anticipation and excitement flooding through me as I walked up the stairs ahead of her. I was acutely aware that my bottom in the thin cotton, cropped trousers was swaying around right in front of Stephanie's face. I was wearing a thong, so beneath the thin material, my bum cheeks were bare and I knew that they would be wobbling nicely for her. I so wanted Steph to stroke my cheeks, but she didn't.

I sprawled out on my bed and took the lighted joint she offered me. She leaned against the wall, as she often did when we chatted' and lit her spliff. She opened the window and we both took deep drags letting the smoke do its slow magic. I was feeling good.

"So", I smiled, "the sordid details please".

Stephanie then began one of the most exciting, absorbing, down right horny, yet rather disturbing accounts of a sexual experience I'd ever heard.

"She alternated her gaze between my breasts and my eyes", Steph began. "She said that she had loads of tennis gear and I was welcome to borrow some. Why not come and choose what you'd like?" She asked. I said sure. I was trying to be cool about it all, but I was burning up inside."

"Why?" I asked my friend who took a long tote letting the smoke spiral upwards before replying casually.

"Three reasons I suppose. First, I fancied her like hell. Second I wanted to go with an older woman, I've never done that."

"And third, Steph?"

"Well third, my dear was you."

"Me?"

"Yes I didn't know how you'd feel."

"You didn't have to tell me, I doubt she would, so how would I find out?"

"No Sammi darling I knew I'd have to tell you, it sort of felt like cheating on you."

"What?" I giggled, "because you were going to have sex with a woman I've fantasised about fucking?"

"Yes I suppose so, an odd logic I know but along those lines. Anyway, feeling a little like a lamb being led to slaughter I followed your mum upstairs. By the way her bum's not as nice as the one I just followed up here."

"Thank you kind ma'am, I didn't think you'd noticed it."

"Oh yes I noticed alright and wanted to kiss it, but thought I'd better wait for your reaction to this first. She led me into her bedroom and into that dressing room she has, wicked isn't it?"

"Well with the amount of clothes she has she needs it."

"She picked out a few outfits and said with a very mischievous and highly come on look, "let's try these shall we?" Brushing past me so our bodies almost touched, she took them back to the bedroom and laid them on the bed. I wandered in and just looked from her the outfits and back again. She made no effort to leave or turn her back and didn't suggest I take them to another room."

"God", I muttered shocked at my mother but even more aroused as I visualized the scene in her bedroom. "She's a ballsy bitch then isn't she?"

Steph smiled and said. "Yes just like her daughter."

"Go on then tell me more?" I asked now gagging to hear everything that went on. 

"I knew this was crunch time, I've been there before. It's that point where I could simply pick up the outfits, take them to my room and nothing more would be said. My action would have told her I didn't want sex with my mate's mum and that would be the end of it. No face lost, no one annoyed."

"You didn't though, I assume", I giggled the weed having now given me that slightly tipsy feeling where even the smallest bit of humour appears hilarious.

"No Sammi, I didn't," she replied stubbing out the tiny butt of her joint. "You know I had sex with her."

That simple phrase sent such a jolt of sexual stimulation through me that I let out a little groan.

"Oh God," I moaned.

Stephanie's acute sexual antennae picked up what she was starting to do to me.

"Yes Sammi we fucked each other didn't we?"

"Oh yes Steph, yes," I sighed my eyes locked on hers as I slowly slid my hand inside my tee shirt. "So what happened next?"

"This," Steph said softly her eyes watching the every move of my hand as it found my breast inside my bra and squeezed, firmly.

Her fingers went to the zip of her jeans and slowly slid that down. She pushed her jeans off her legs and leaned back against the wall. She was wearing a pretty, lacy, cerise coloured thong. She looked fab.

"Your mum didn't flinch, move or say a word, she just looked at me. The look in her eyes was wonderful. A sort of admiration, pleasure, excitement, desire and lust all mixed up together. She's very cool and collected."

"Yes, she is isn't she?" I whispered as I eased first one and then the other breast out of the cups of the bra. Steph's eyes had a similar look to that she'd just described in my mum's. 

She said with the firmness that had always made me putty in her hands.

"Take the fucking thing off, stop being a little tease."

I smiled for teasing was the furthest thing from my mind. I did as she asked though and dropped both the tee shirt and my bra on the bed.

"Mmmmm, lovely Sammi, lovely," she muttered as I took breasts in my hands, pushing them together, squeezing each one and pinching and pulling my nipples all at the same time."

"Now your top," I croaked.

As she lifted the tee up and pulled it over her head she said.

"Funnily, that's exactly what your mum said and exactly what I did next." 

Steph was wearing a white, lace bra that afforded her, at least double D cup, boobs the slight support they needed but hid none of their glory. Her dark nipples were already hard and clearly visible through the material and the slightly too small, I suspected, bra pushed the two orbs together to produce a truly spectacular cleavage. As I stared at them and worked on my own breasts I couldn't stop visions of my mother's bare breasts coming into my mind. I also couldn't stop myself from thinking just what it would be like to make love to both hers and Stephanie's tits at the same time.

Steph continued. 

"I saw that we'd reached another crunch point. Even now, having undressed to my bra and panties, I hadn't made my intentions totally clear to her had I? I mean, I could after all have just been a bit brash and really was going to try the outfits on. She couldn't be sure that I wanted to fuck her almost as much as I'd wanted to fuck her daughter that first time in her small car, could she? 

And of course, a mum trying to shag her daughter's best friend when she doesn't know her daughter and the best friend are already lovers could be in the shit if she gets it wrong. Just imagine if she tried it on, I wasn't up for it and freaked and told you that your mum's a lesbian and you confronted her and told yer dad. Fucking deep shit time so she had to be careful didn't she? She had to be certain, didn't she?"




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 13



"Christ yes," I replied idly stroking and squeezing my breast. "So what did you do?"

"Well I also had to be careful didn't I? I was pretty sure I'd read the signs correctly, but you can never be sure. I also had to be certain didn't I? "

"Yes I see that so how did you make sure?"

"I just stood there in my see through bra and matching lace boy shorts and looked at her. I asked her which one she thought I should wear, adding in a joking voice but with a serious undertone, which one would you like to see me in? I paused a moment, looked her right in the eye and added, or out of? She saw the play then, she saw I wasn't going to lead the way, but acknowledged I'd made a start and had opened the door for her."

Steph lit two more joints. She brought mine over to me and took a deep drag on it. She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips with her mouth wide open so that not only did her tongue slip into my mouth, but also the smoke that had been into her throat and maybe lungs as well before being regurgitated entered me. That was very intimate indeed. I slipped my arms round her and after a moment fumbling I unclipped her bra and pulled it off. Her breasts tumbled free. I grabbed one, pulled it to my mouth and sucked greedily on her full, hard dark nipple.

As I sucked and stroked my friend's breast she continued.

"Your mum must have relaxed a bit for she said, "well I guess we should choose one that shows your best assets shouldn't we?" I replied, slightly coyly and what are they? 

She retorted. "Oh I think we both know don't we?" I pressed on, perhaps you should show me."

As Steph was explaining how, in effect, they seduced each other, so she pulled her boob away from my mouth. She bent over and undid the tie round the waist of my combat pants.

"I think someone's a little overdressed here don't you?" She smiled pulling them down my legs and off. I lay before my lesbian lover clad in just a pretty, pale-lemon thong and listened to her telling me how she'd had sex with my mum.

"Your mum said. "Well I always like this one" as she picked a pink, silky top. "It's quite low cut and a little tight so," she paused for a moment before adding", it does show off one's assets rather nicely." I gulped for it was now becoming awfully real. Hesitating nervously I stammered. Does it, well I can't see any? I saw the smile of realisation and relief spread across her face. I'd clearly shown her I was up for it and that she'd read the correct vibes at the party. "Hmmmm," she said quietly, "well I suppose we'd better rectify that hadn't we?"

Steph was leaning against the wall again, one foot behind her pressed against it. Her magnificent, bare breasts jiggled so enticingly as she dragged on her joint and cupped one of the orbs in her hand. I was stroking, pinching and squeezing my breasts with one hand as I softly ran the fingers of the other over my tummy and up and down my thighs, which Id' quite lewdly, spread wide.

"I watched, amazingly aroused," Steph continued, "as your mum, without further ado, undid the buttons on her blouse, quickly took that off and reached behind for the bra clasp. She paused and looked at me. There was one last check, one final measure. Looking me in the eye, she mouthed, "Yes?" I nodded and then magically her bra was off, her tits were bare and we were in each others arms."

"Oh fuck Steph I can't stand it, I can't take any more."

"She could Sammi, your mum could", Steph went on", as, with a deep sigh of pleasure and anticipation my finger found my clit.

"Take them off Sammi, let me watch you?" Steph ordered as she pushed her thong off. 

I pulled mine down, raised my knees and opened my legs wide. Steph always liked watching me masturbate and she loved looking at my cunt, so I flashed it at her in such a wanton manner that it aroused me even more.

"We managed to get her trousers off Sammi before falling onto her bed kissing and clawing at each others breasts. We rolled around using our tits on each other and loving the feel of our nipples pressing together. It was clearly not going to be a long first fuck. We were both far too aroused for that. We both wanted the other too badly to wait for that"

By now, I was wanking furiously. I was so deep into myself both physically and emotionally I almost forgot to look at Steph who had sunk to the floor and was frigging herself as energetically as I was. The combination of Stephanie's account of how she and my mother made love, the sight of my lesbian lover naked masturbating myself and, of course the feelings I was giving myself as I made love to my own body were simply awesome.

As if from afar, I heard Steph going on.

"Somehow we were both naked, I don't know how, I don't remember taking her panties off or her taking mine off. All I recall is that suddenly, when I put my hands there, I found her, hot, steamy, cloying wetness, and by fuck Sam was she wet? But then so was I. Her breasts on mine, her mouth on mine and her hands all over me were all driving me absolutely, fucking crazy."

"Oh God Steph, yes, yes, more tell me more," I moaned as my own self-induced orgasm started to bubble around inside me.

"We both climaxed, quite quickly and furiously. I was lying on top of her and we had our arms round each other. Our tits were squashed together and I was rubbing my pubic bone on hers simulating fucking movements, just as I did the other night to you. Her hands had grabbed my arse and she was squeezing and pinching my cheeks as we both erupted."

"Ooooo that's amazing, that's incredible Steph," I moaned. "I think I'm cumming."

"Then cum my little wank bitch. Fuck yourself you slut, get those fingers right up your cunt."

I looked across at her through half closed eyes and saw that she'd put one foot up on a chair and her legs were spread as far as they could be. She was pumping three or four fingers in and out of her gaping pussy and her body was moving with the same rhythm. She really was fucking herself and it was an amazing sight.

"What are you thinking Sam? What's in your mind as you fuck yourself and watch me fuck myself? What's going through that dirty, fucking mind of yours as I tell you how your mum and I fucked each other. Tell me Sam; tell me as I cum. Oooooooooooo, arrrrgh."

I was cumming continuously now. Wave after wave of enormously strong orgasmic sensations rushed through me. My body was jerking, almost convulsing and certainly shuddering as hard as it ever had. I answered Steph. I gave her the information she asked for, I told her the truth, the absolute truth about what was in my mind, what I was thinking and what I was fantasizing.

"Oh Steph," I sobbed as tears poured down my face. 

"Yes Sammi, tell me, tell Steph," she gulped as she also climaxed.

"I'm fucking my mum, just as you fucked her. Yes Steph I want to fuck my mother."



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 14



It has been a while since my last submission and I hope this that's all about me offering "extras" at photo shoots makes the wait worthwhile.

I really have tried everything I can to get Lit. to publish my photos, as they used to, but nothing works. Any help you can give, evem just sending a mail when you look at my bio, really would be greatly appreciated.

I hope you are all still enjoying me and thanks for the feedback, most of which is gratefully received. I try to reply to all and as quickly as possible. I've made some good friends through the feedback and have found corresponding with them a real pleasure, mostly.

If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.

*

My bio, Part 14

Pushing the boundaries out on my modelling, going further, much further with the photographers.

Chapter 1

It was probably the most intimate moment of my life. Certainly it was amongst the most erotic and without doubt, it was one of the most sexually challenging positions I had ever been in.

I was lying on a settee, a big one, one that could probably seat four people comfortably and one that would be perfect to make love on. But I wasn't making love.

I was wearing a bra, a white see-through one. Both of my tits had been lifted out of it. Other than that, all I had on was a pair of stockings. Black, fishnet, seamed holdups. I looked good, I knew that. I was dressed for sex. But I wasn't having sex. 

I could feel my heart pounding, my body starting to have slight tremors, my breasts feeling ready to burst and that familiar tingling warmth starting to flood through me. All those feelings a woman gets when she's being fucked. But I wasn't being fucked.

No, I wasn't making love, I wasn't having sex and I wasn't being fucked. I was being photographed. Yes, I was posing in a one to one situation for the very first time.

I had posed undressed and more than that many times. I had had photographers take shots of my most intimate places several times now and I had simulated masturbation for them, occasionally. Never, though had I done those things when it was just one photographer and me. And that, I was finding out, was an entirely different kettle of fish than being photographed by a number of guys.

When being the model for amateur photographer clubs at their group evenings, I posed in underwear, topless and naked as up to a dozen camera-men clicked away. Lying there scantily clad with your legs wide open brings a range of sexually driven feelings. Exhibitionism, power, sordidness, being abused and demeaned yet, at the same time, adored and revered. Nice feelings for a glamour model.

Overriding all those, though, is the comfort of being in a group. The security of having all those guys together. The blanket of respectability they throw over the proceedings by making out it is all about art, not taking pictures of my tits and pussy that they go and wank over later.

When it's just you and a him, though, it really is an entire new ball game. There isn't the distance, there isn't the crowd to divert things and there isn't the embarrassment of the men to take the pressure of the girl. There's just a naked girl and a man, often an aroused man and sometimes an excited girl. That is exactly how it was with me and Paul that afternoon in the studio in East London.

My, sort of, agent, Sandra had told me that if I really wanted to earn money then, in addition to posing for the group sessions, I had to do one to ones. I had to agree to pose for just one photographer. I had to be willing to spend up to three hours in a studio with one man. I had to be willing to give myself to one person for the length of the session for which he had hired me.

She explained that it was necessary because a man would pay much more to have me to himself. I questioned that, saying that he could get the same shots as part of a group as he could with me by myself. 

"But not Sammi, with you by yourself." Sandra said.

"So what's the difference?"

"The mood Sammi, the mood."

I pushed a bit on what she meant, even though deep down I probably knew the answer.

She explained that the pairing of just the two of you often created a uniquely erotic mood and atmosphere.

"It's a bit like being in a chat room on the net. There you seem isolated from everything else and you have that anonymity of being separated from everything else and everybody. You know it's unreal and the people you chat to do as well, but you make it seem real. So, you create a unique atmosphere between you. It may only last a short time, but during that time you are like a different person, or the person chatting does not seem to be you. It's like that in the solitude of the studio. You take on a different personality, a separate role, you become someone else and so does he. For the hour or two that the pair of you are together under those lights and in front of the camera, you are a partnership, he's the only man in your world and you are the only woman in his. Nobody else exists or matters."

"Wow," I interjected, "you make it seem almost religious.

Sandra smiled. "Actually it is I suppose, although it's probably a fairly rare religion that encourages you to bare your tits and pussy and for him to get a hard on looking at you."

I laughed at Sandra's wit and down to earth attitude. She went on.

"So that's the mood Sammi and when that mood is created some strange things can happen."

"Such as?"

"You'll see."

"Oh come one."

"No it's up to you to find out."

"No don't be a cow," I moaned flashing her my sexiest smile and pushing my tits out towards her knowing that she was almost certainly thinking about trying to fuck me again.

"I'll just say two things," Sandra replied quite coyly for her as she took hold of my elbow.

"OK," I replied in two minds as to whether I wanted sex with her or not.

I certainly wanted sex for I had been without anything other than myself for a couple of months now. Steph was back at Bristol and David and his wife were attempting yet reconciliation, so my main sources were unavailable. 

Sandra and I had been "active" a few times, but her increasingly aggressive and very dominant style was pretty off-putting to me and I was not sure I was quite up to a session with her.

I eased myself away from and slumped my shoulders a little making my tits even smaller than the B almost C cups they are.

"One is, remember what happened between us that first time I photographed you. The second is don't give it away."

She would not say any more, so with that advice ringing in my ears I had left.

I sort of worked out what I think she meant. 

Chapter 2

She wasn't wrong. Not about the mood, the atmosphere or the feeling of being separated from the rest of the world. 

Paul and I got on well from almost the moment we met. He was in his early forties, I guessed. He was well dressed in a pair of, quite tight, beige, linen trousers, a dark blue shirt, with two buttons undone showing a nice sprouting of hair, and a pair of thin, leather loafers without socks. He looked good. He also smelled good as he came close and we shook hands giving off a waft of lovely aftershave. He had a nice tan.

We chatted away as he set up the lights and arranged the studio. The room wasn't that big, but it had a large settee at one end and a posing area with a variety of pull down backdrops at the other.

He asked if I would put on black underwear and stockings and selected a short, pleated kilt type of skirt in a red, green and black tartan and a white, cotton blouse from the wardrobe I had brought with me. He took a load of photos of me in that. At his direction I gradually opened the buttons on the blouse, until the bra was clearly displayed. He took quite a few shots, lying on the floor, shooting up my skirt and more with him standing and kneeling as I bent over and sat on the sofa with the hem of the skirt going further and further up my thighs.

As the session went on I felt that he seemed to be competent with the lighting and focusing and quite creative with the poses he asked me to adopt. His style was more erotic than porn, or so it seemed, for he appeared to prefer suggestive poses and clothing rather than more obvious and basic. During the first hour, we didn't do any nude stuff, but focused more on revealing poses. I wore two different skirts a really clingy dress and tight jeans. Most of the time he had me pull the hems up, have the zip on the jeans undone or pull my tops up, down or to one side so I was flashing goodly expanses of my legs and most of my boobs. He posed me with nothing on under the tight dress and the jeans, with no panties under the skirts and no bra under the tight, boob tube top or the see through, cotton blouse.

It was all pretty normal stuff, but as Sandra had said, it was far more intimate and certainly the mood and atmosphere was far more heavily charged than usual when I posed with several photographers.

That was particularly the case when we took a break for a cup of tea. I had been posing in just my panties. Laying on the floor, my legs spread wide he had asked me to push my boobs together, something, that for some reason, I always find sexually stimulating. I was acutely aware as he, firstly, stood right by my feet and shot downwards at my full, supine body and then knelt between my widely spreaded legs, that my nipples had hardened. 

"Mmmmm, lovely, Samm, lovely," he grunted letting me know that he had, naturally. noticed that. I felt embarrassed, which wasdaft really, after what he also been looking at.

He moved closer. That meant further into the wide vee of my legs, further up them, nearer to my pussy that was clad in just the flimsiest, as good as see through, black, lacy thong. He was focusing on close ups of that as he moved even nearer and then he moved the camera towards my face and breasts.

"Hold your pussy, Sam," he ordered, not, I noticed, asked. It didn't occur to me to object, even though we hadn't agreed that I would do that or how far I would go.

As I held myself there he concentrated on my breasts and nipples, that were now stunningly hard, and on my face.

Photographers often talk in a fairly crude way to explain a pose or a look.

"Give me that, I want to be shagged look, Sam."

It wasn't difficult. The more I held my breasts together, so the harder became my nipples. The harder they became, so the more acute became the sensations that were starting to run through my body. And the closer Paul moved towards me, clearly now focusing the camera on my face, so the more I did, indeed, feel as though I wanted to be shagged.

"That was great, thanks Sammi, he said as he handed me a cup of tea.

We had moved into the corner of the studio where there was a small, round table and some chairs. Paul had made the tea and I had slipped into a silk robe I always take with me for both this purpose and for posing.

"Good," I replied, "I'm pleased you liked it."

"Did you?" He asked rather pointedly, sipping his tea and looking into my eyes across the rim of the cup.

"Yes it was fine," I replied a little sharply, for I thought we were in danger of talking ourselves into an area of embarrassment for me. I was still feeling the effects of the surge of arousal, as was my body, especially my nipples, under the thin silk of the robe.

I began to panic a little when he started saying that he wanted to do some nude shots and said.

"You are ok with open leg stuff aren't you Sam?" as he calmly sipped his tea with us standing no more than a foot or so apart. 

"Er yes, yes Paul, of course," I replied, stammering a little. 

"Good, because I've got some ideas on shots of your, er, um, of you there," he smiled nodding at my tummy.

I hadn't realised just how intimate such a situation could be. But then I'd never really had a man talk to me face to face in such a way. Well girls, even glamour models, don't often have men tell them they have ideas on how to take photos of their pussies do they?

The situation didn't improve during the next forty minute or so session.

"Ok Sammi," Paul said taking my cup and putting it on the table, "could we lose the robe please?"

"Where do you want me I asked?" undoing the tie on the robe.

"Lying on the floor over there on that black mat," he said nodding as I slipped the robe off and hung it behind the screen.

"Oh and the panties, Sam, I want you in all your glory for this session."

With the group stuff I was used to, I usually have no inhibitions about being naked. I've got used to men staring at my bare tits and pussy and taking photos of them. Actually I've got to quite enjoy it and it's hardly even exciting or arousing any more. The fact that there is a group and they all work so hard to be cool and not show the others that they take the photos to get their rocks off, sort of sanitises the situation.

As Paul took shot after shot of me with my legs open or raised with my pussy fully on show, it was far from a sanitised situation. I was turned on. I could no longer kid myself as I had been right up to the tea break. Now, I was breathing heavy, even panting a little bit, my skin was tingling and my breasts seemed full and so heavy.

"Mmmmm that's gorgeous Sammi, really fantastic," he breathed. "Now sit on the sofa, if you will please luv."

He changed something around on his camera, probably a lens.

"Ok lay back and keeping your legs dead straight lift them up so they are at ninety degrees to the sofa."

"Like this?"

"Yes that's perfect, I can see and shoot that lovely pussy from behind now."

"Right, now kneel, lean forward, put your arms on the floor and rest you head on the back of your wrists."

"Like this?"

"No, keep your knees at right angles."

"This then?" I asked doing what I thought he wanted.

He put the camera down and came over to me. Holding my shoulder he bent me further forward. His touch felt like electric. 

I couldn't understand what was happening to me and why I was so aroused. I had never met him before and although he was attractive and fairly good looking, I couldn't say that I particularly fancied him, but then I rarely do fancy men until I know them quite well. But then also I had never been in a situation such as this before. Never been naked with a man photographing me, never been alone with a guy as he took shots of my pussy and I'd never had a man touch me as he positioned me so that he and his camera would be able to get a better view of my most womanly place.

"That's exactly how I want you Sammi," he murmured removing his hands from my body and moving away. He added, almost as if to himself. "Looking vulnerable and ready for sex."

I knew that he would be able to see and photograph everything, my bum, my anal hole and the lips of my pussy that I was sure would be glistening with the wetness that I would have secreted. I felt embarrassed about that.

"Oh yes Sam, that's fantastic, the choice and the conflict between your private places makes for an amazing pose." 

I couldn't say anything other than, "thanks Paul," but was surprised when he retorted.

"No Sammi, thanks to you, it's fantastic to see your wetness."

That shocked me a little. I knew I was probably wet, but had, forlornly as it happens, hoped it wasn't showing.

He took several more shots of me with my legs wide open. They included me touching my pussy and bum and pulling firstly my lips and then my cheeks apart to, as he put it. "Open yourself up for me Sam."

We had another break then. We had been shooting for well over an hour.

"How much longer are we going to shoot for Paul?" I asked him, for the studio owner had told me that the client usually left the time open ended, sometimes just taking an hour and at other times going on for three hours or more.

"Not sure yet Sam," he said sipping his water and looking at me. 

I was again in the silk robe. It was gaping a bit at the front showing my cleavage and the insides of each breast. I saw that look in his eye, that one that men have when they see a bit more of a girl than expected. It was strange and I almost smiled when I thought, "he's just been taking photos of me naked focusing his camera right on my cunt, yet gets worked up when he sees a bit of tit." It was even stranger though, when I realised that I was also becoming more aroused now I was partially dressed. "Shit it was bad enough to be soaking myself when naked, but to feel that slipperyness between my legs and to have my nipples explode with hardness, when covered up was crazy.

"I'd like to do what I call some "just fucked look" shots Sam."

"What are they?"

"As the name implies I want you to give me the look on your face that you've just had sex."

"OK, and wearing what."

My head was against the arm of the sofa, my body was stretched out along the seats, one leg was straight along the sofa the other was bent with the foot on the floor, my legs were open.

"Now Sam, can you pull your boobs out of the bra please?"

It was happening all over again. It had been there during the break, it had got stronger when I slipped on the black stockings and white bra and had continued as he took shot after shot of me pouting and making facial expressions as if I was cumming or had just had an orgasm. It was actually quite easy, for what was going on was near to being a climax.

"Oh God," slipped from my mouth when, "accidentally" was it, my finger found my clit.

"Yes Sam, yes," he croaked moving very close to me. "Give it to me."

The feelings were pouring over me, I was hot and tingling everywhere. I was starting to cum. I had fought it, I had held it back, I had stopped it showing for such a time, but now the floodgates opened.

"Oh fuck," I moaned as I rubbed harder as Paul took shot after shot of my fingers and the now tortured expressions of extreme sexual arousal on my face. 

I had several times before posed as if I was having an orgasm. Rubbing my breasts or stroking my pussy I had acted for groups as if I was cumming. I had, actually, almost cum a few times. But never had there been anything like this. A full blown, right on the button orgasm as I played with myself in front of the camera, alone in a studio with just one guy, a quite fanciable one at that.

"Rub your tits as well," he asked.

I cupped my right breast with my left hand as I continued stimulating my clit and pussy with the other. 

"Pull it out the bra," Paul said very huskily.

He had one knee on the sofa about level with my hip. As he bent forward taking close ups of my face and my right boob that I had now pulled from my bra, I could see the bulge in his tight trousers. It took all the resistance I had to stop myself from reaching out and stroking it.

"Are you near Sam?" he asked me. It seemed amazing that such a question was being put to me by a photographer. Amazing, but so apt and so intimate and, oddly not at all worrying.

"Yes, yes I am," I breathed as I saw him put the camera on the floor. 

He moved closer. I watched with amazement as he slid his zip down. There was amazement, but oddly, no fear or real concern; it seemed so natural for him to do that. It seemed equally natural for him to get his cock out, for him to hold it and for him to start masturbating.

I wasn't until then that he said.

"Is this ok Sam?" nodding towards where his hand was pumping his dick just a foot or so away from my face.

Right at that moment I doubt that there was little he could have done sexually that wouldn't have been ok, so aroused was I?




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 14



"Yes Paul," I croaked as my orgasm rapidly built up. I love seeing men wank so what Paul was doing was an added ingredient in my sexual excitement.

We were both near, that was clear from the way he was slowing down and taking long strokes of his cock. It was also clear from the look on his face and the deeper breathing.

"Oh yes," he moaned, "are you near Sam, are you cumming?"

He reached out and held my hand squeezing it reassuringly and consolingly when I whispered.

"Yes I am."

He moved forward positioning himself so that his pumping hand and thrusting erection was hovering over my body. He pointed the thick end of his cock at my right breast, it was just inches away from it. He nodded at me.

"Can I Sam, can I come on your tits?"

My body and mind were now in total free fall. I was climaxing very strongly. All reason, all inhibitions, all moral standards, all thoughts of what I shouldn't do and all restrictions on what I should let him do left me. I was his to do with as he wished. 

I managed to croak "yes," just before I nearly blacked out with sensations. As that happened, I felt the warm, splatterings of his sperm on my breasts.

Chapter 3

All the way home, all through that night, at college the next few days and practically every waking hour for the next week or so I worried myself silly. I agonised and contemplated the situation from every angle. I weighed the pros, not that there were many, and considered the cons. I evaluated what I had done, I assessed the circumstances that had caused me to do it. Yes, I thought of little else, my mind rarely strayed from the subject for more than a few minutes and I couldn't get the idea out of my head. That thought, that subject, that idea was that I was now as good as a hooker, for Paul had pressed a fifty-pound note into my hand when we'd parted saying.

"Thanks Sam, that's for the extras."

I could have refused it or given it back, I could have said no, I could have told him I didn't want it. But I did, I did want it, but not for mercenary reasons. No, for some reason I couldn't fathom, I wanted that money as a reward, as a recognition, as a symbol, as thrill money, if that makes sesnse!

I felt between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand I didn't want to admit to myself how easily I had let him turn me on and masturbate, yet on the other I didn't want to admit that the idea of "doing it for money" appealed. But the latter did appeal, more so than the former. Maybe one was a justification for the other?

A week later I was in that very same studio, I was in almost the same outfit and almost the same pose. I was on that sofa, my hands were on my body and I was simulating masturbation. But this time the photographer was Brian. Average height, build, looks and demeanour, he was a real Brian. Wearing glasses, sporting a moustache and in his early forties, I imagined, he was badly dressed in unstylish clothes and had that annoying habit of turning everything into a joke, he also had a most annoying giggle. I didn't get in the slightest way turned on by him and when he said.

"Do you offer extras Sam?"

I had no difficulty or hesitation in saying, rather sharply.

"No."

A similar thing happened later that week at another studio. I didn't fancy the guy so I had no temptations, he said nothing and nothing untoward happened. The following week, however, I was again asked about extras. I was easily able to say that I didn't offer any, for he was fat, bald, ugly and in his fifties.

Obviously, though, many models did offer extras. After all, I had modelled one to one four times and extras had come up on three of those occasions! That got me thinking, but so did a call from Sandra.

"Paul wants you again Sam, you must have really impressed him."

My heart leaped when she said that.

Chapter 4

"May I?" he asked.

I couldn't speak, so I nodded my agreement. I sighed as his hand cupped my breast, I grunted as he pinched my nipples and I revelled in the feelings going through me. Surges of arousal as I caressed my clit, pangs of sensation as my fingertips ran round the outside of my pussy lips and frissons of feelings as this man played with my breasts.

"Oh God Sammi, this is amazing, you're amazing," he grunted as I watched his other hand sliding his zip down. I couldn't reply, but watched, as good as, mesmerised as he pulled his fully hardened cock out from his trousers.

He leaned further forward, running his hand down my body towards my sex. 

"Oh God he's going to finger me," I thought, half concerned and half so thrilled at the prospect.

The session had gone in a fairly similar way to last time. He'd gradually got me to strike up more and more intimate poses; holding my breasts, pinching my nipples and shooting from behind, pulling my cheeks apart. On my back, naked apart from stockings, with what he asked for in a husky voice, "that fuck me now" look on my face.

"Play with yourself, Sammi," ho croaked. "Look at me as if you've just been fucked."

I did as he asked, knowing full well that it would arouse me. Unlike last time, I didn't fight it. I simply went with it, I just let the feelings boil up, I just let him excite me, I just let the whole thing excite me, the slight fancying of the photographer, the being alone in a studio with him, being naked and touching myself and the knowledge that now I was selling this. It was that which was the biggest turn on, I think.

His hand found my wet pussy at about the same time his mouth found my nipples. 

I was again lying on the sofa, this time full stretch. He had one knee on the seat, his body was bent, his trousers and pants were now round his knees. His handsome cock was reared to its fullest hardness just a few inches from my arm. As he sucked my nipples and alternated sliding two or three fingers up and down my streaming pussy with rubbing my clitoris, it seemd such a natural act. It felt right, it felt as though I should do it, yes reaching out and grabbing his cock seemed to be exactly what I should do. So I did just that. And like that, as he masturbated me, I wanked him until his sperm again shot all over my breasts.

This time there were two crisp fifty pounds notes pressed into my hand. 

Chapter 5

"Yes," I said.

"What are they, may I ask?"

"Hand relief is fifty, touching me and hand relief is a hundred."

Over the next month or so, the topic of extras had come up a lot. I'd discussed it with Sandra and another couple of models I had got to know and had decided to go for it. That was their advice and my inclination. So I did. I had even worked out a sort of menu and that was what I was explaining to this new client.

He was in his mid forties I guessed, as most seemed to be. Not unattractive and not unappealing he wasn't, though the sort of guy I'd fall for. But then in an hour or so posing, men's personalities don't come through that much, so getting to fancy a new client was unlikely. Thus, one of my earlier beliefs had been dumped. I didn't have to fancy them to sell sex to them, I merely had to not find them distasteful.

"What about full sex?" He asked.

"No, I don't do that."

"Oral?"

"What on me?"

"Yes, well both ways really."

"With a condom." 

"If you insist," he smiled.

"I'm afraid I have to."

"How much then for that?"

"Tell me again what you want?"

"Ok I want to play with your tits, suck them and your pussy and have you suck me until I cum. OK?"

"Yes fine," I said, hopefully sounding cooler and more relaxed than I felt. "Hundred and fifty," I blurted out.

"Great, I'll undress then, is that Ok?"

Looking back, it seems amazing how matter of fact such conversations had become to me. The mere idea of discussing financial terms for selling sex would have been anathema to me just a few months ago, but here I was now, lying naked apart from a suspender belt and stockings as a guy undressed before me, negotiating a package of sexual services. It was, actually, rather exciting.

I had found that if I put everything else out of mind and focused completely on the man I was with, then the sex usually became quite pleasurable, it always was exciting. The mere thought that I was doing whatever it was on the menu he'd chosen for money, gave me such a turn on, I just couldn't explain or understand it. As Mark lay down beside me and took me in his arms pressing his erection hard against me, I didn't need an explanation and didn't want to understand it. All I wanted was a satisfaction of the sexual hunger that flaunting my body at him during the photographic session had caused.

And that I got. 

His mouth on my breasts, his teeth chewing my nipples and his fingers on my clit and sliding in and out of my steaming pussy he made me cum, quickly. I couldn't help thinking that hookers shouldn't do that, but he didn't seem to mind me moaning and groaning, arching my back and gripping his cock far harder than a sexual caress requires.

"Yes Sammi, yes, come on," he croaked in my ear, thoughtfully holding me tightly through the most severe traumas of the strong orgasm

"Yes cum for me cum," he whispered his lips finding mine. 

I hadn't kissed Paul, he hadn't tried and I hadn't offered. I didn't know whether it was right and proper, whether the etiquette of hooker client relationships required it, or frowned on it. But as the climax that Mark was giving my reached its peak and began to subside a little, so feeling his on mine and his tongue in my mouth seemed so perfectly natural. But then, once I had become aroused during a photo session if the man wasn't a total waste of space and if he asked for extras, then all the sexual thing seemed so natural. That scared me a little.

Although I have been involved in the sexual actions of posing for glamour photo shoots for a while and have had a number of both male and female lovers, I have never really had a particularly strong sex drive. It hasn't bothered me hardly at all to go weeks and even a couple of months without a shag. I have never masturbated with the frequency or regularity of girls I know or those I have read about in girly mags and books.

Sure, I had a period with DD, the forty year old lecturer I had an affair with at uni., where we were bonking nearly every day for a few weeks and once I'd had three different sexual partners in a week, but generally it was not like that. Generally, there was a partner around who I would have sex with every now and then and generally I'd get worked occasionally and hand fuck myself rigid for a couple of days, but I did not have that strong an urge for much more than that. So now, finding myself becoming so turned on by even pretty ordinary guys that I was having paid sex with them, enjoying that and finding it to be "perfectly natural" was a new world for me. An odd world as well, for it was confined to the inside of photographic studios, with men I usually didn't know who paid me to have sex.

I hadn't meant to take his bare cock in my mouth. I hadn't meant to lick and suck him without protection, but I did. I couldn't seem to help it, stop myself or prevent my hand reaching out and pulling his hardness towards me as his face went between my thighs that I, now willingly, spread for him. His tongue felt fantastic on my, post orgasm, ultra sensitive pussy lips and clit. If that felt fantastic then I don't have the words to describe the sensation I got from sliding his erection deep in my mouth, that was simply indescribable. Indescribable but incredible. 

I'd sucked only a few guys before, but never in "my new career." That, I think, made it even more special and even more fantastic. But then, maybe it felt like that because Mark was doing such amazing things to me with his tongue and fingers. It could also have been, I rationalized later, that it was due to the circumstances. The, sort of detachment from my normal world, the diversion from reality that having sex for money with a virtual stranger in a studio brought about was, without doubt, a huge contributing factor to both the excitement I felt and the enthusiasm with which I was sucking this man's cock.

I started to cum again. It was unusual and pretty quick for me to start climaxing again just a few minutes after a big orgasm, but I did and that unhinged me a little. I cast discretion to the winds and lost the tad of inhibitions I still had. I went at his cock like I'd never attacked one before. It became the centre of everything. All else faded into oblivion. His cock was all, it was him, it was me, it was us and it was sex. It became the object I yearned for so much and milking that cock until it was dry became the all encompassing objective in my life at that moment.

How long I sucked, slurped and licked at it I don't know. He responded awesomely. He shoved three or four fingers up me as his tongue teased and stimulated my clit. At the same time he started thrusting with his hips. He was now fully fucking my face with his cock while he fucked my cunt with his fingers. 

I have no idea how it came out of my mouth. Whether even in the hold of the strongest sexual arousal, sense can prevail and I pulled him our or, whether he was the ultimate gentleman, I don't know. What I do I know is that as his fingers and tongue sent me crashing to my second orgasm, so his spunk splattered all over my face and chest and I earned my first one hundred and fifty pounds set of extras. Deep down I knew that was just the start.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 15



Well the "new" photo came up quickly, for Lit that is. I hope you like the studious Sammi look. I'll have to select the next one soon, any suggestions?

I hope you are all still enjoying me and thanks for the feedback, most of which is gratefully received. I try to reply to all and as quickly as possible. I've made some good friends through the feedback and have found corresponding with them a real pleasure, well mostly.

If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. In most parts, and particularly in this one where DD features strongly, I refer back to what has happened in previous parts, so they really do need to be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Nevertheless, whatever way you do read them, I hope you enjoy them and get as great amount of pleasure from reading them as I do from writing them for you, well and me. Please feel free to leave whatever comments you wish or e-mail me if you prefer.

My bio, Part 15

A night with DD and bucket loads of anticipation about mum.

Chapter 1

Mum was sitting on the patio in the sun when I got home from DD's. She was wearing one of those men's type vests that have thin shoulder straps and a scooped front with a hem that reaches just beneath the waist, and bikini panties. She had been swimming and her long, usually wavy, chestnut coloured hair was hanging down straight framing her beautiful face and falling onto her bare, nicely tanned shoulders. 

I couldn't see if the bikini panties were wet so I didn't know if she had been swimming naked, as she often did. I could see most clearly, though, that she was not wearing a bra, so I knew she would have been swimming topless, as she almost always does.

She looked fantastic, even with no make up.

"Was it a good shoot?" She asked, for she now knew I was doing glamour photographic modelling. 

A couple of months ago, one of her friends, a professional photographer, had seen my entry in a studio's online portfolio of models. He had asked mum about it and downloaded the four or five shots and sent them to her. She had confronted me one evening. I naturally lied, but when she said for me to look at the shots on her PC, I had nowhere to go. So, I owned up to it and told her all about it, well not all, not about the extras, of course. She had been surprisingly cool about her twenty-year-old daughter stripping off to her undies and more and posing for photographers, but then my mum was always relaxed about most aspects of sex.

When I'd been looking at her PC, I had poked around a bit and had been amazed to find a file containing some tastefully erotic shots of her. "No wonder", I had thought, "she was so cool about me doing it!" I hadn't mentioned it to her, but that evening when I masturbated, it was those photos that were uppermost in my mind.

I had had similar sexual feelings about her for some months now. They started that day when I arrived home unannounced and walked into the small gym behind the garage. I saw her and her personal trainer kneeling on a mat. His tracky trousers were round his knees, the top of her leotard was round her waist. She was holding his erect cock; he was cupping her bare breasts. It looked as though she was just about to take him into her mouth, or slide his erection between her lovely tits. 

Since then my feelings about her had become so muddled and confused.

When I had been in Spain with her there was a wet and cold day. I had gone to her room and she had said. "Come on let's cuddle up in bed and watch TV." A simple motherly gesture to her, but to me a suggestion that was full of sexually provocative undertones. We didn't cuddle up, but we did lay there for a couple of hours our legs often touching. I was trembling with excitement the whole time.

There had been several other occasions when I was with her and suddenly a rush of sexual want flooded through me. I didn't understand it and I found it hard to control. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, feel her body against mine. I wanted to make love to my own mother.

I knew I was bi. I found that out during the year and a half I spent at university. I found it out with Stephanie Gordon, an immensely clever economics student, a beautiful looking tall woman three years older than me. We had a fling all the time I was there. 

Despite knowing and being comfortable about being bi, but then most girls my age mess around with other females now and then don't they, it was not that easy to accept that those feelings extended to my mother. However, after experiencing them, with increasing intensity for the best part of a year now, I had to accept that they existed and desperately sought ways to handle them. So far, I had succeeded, but I had doubts as to how long I could control myself.

Mum, you see, had me when she was nineteen. She is only just forty, but could easily pass for early thirties, particularly in a nice light. Several times, we have been mistaken for sisters, oddly by guys like pool attendants or men in bars!

She is stunning looking with a more rounded body and figure than mine and lustrous, long chestnut hair. She has fuller lips and bigger eyes than I do and other than our noses and chins, we do not look muck like each other. I sometimes wonder if I am really hers, for even in temperament, attitudes and approach we are not alike. Her most striking feature, among many, is her breasts. They simply are awesome and are still firm and pert despite both my brother and me having suckled them when young. Actually, the word that always comes to my mind when I see them, as I could now underneath the thin vest, is luscious. They are full and round, firm yet wobbly as they should be and are capped with deep pink, quite large nipples with nicely sized centres, even when uncrossed.

"Yes it was fine thanks," I replied, pouring myself a glass of wine. 

"And did you have a good time at Bec's?" she asked mentioning the friend I had used as the excuse for not coming all night.

"Yes it was good to see her after all this time", I lied. 

There probably wasn't all that need to tell porkys about spending the night with a guy, for mum really was cool about my sex life. I did not think she was quite ready yet, though, to learn that her daughter was sleeping with a guy that was older than she was, and on top of that, if she met DD, he'd probably fall for her!

"Have you had a nice morning?"

"Ok, I've done my laps, did some exercises and had my daily row with your father."

"Was it bad?"

"Pretty bad, the bastard really is getting mean, but then he usually does when he's trying to fund a new project."

Mum and dad had recently "officially" parted. It was probably the fourth time. This time, though, did look to be a little more permanent, for he had moved to Spain where he was trying to get a huge building development project underway. He had left mum with the house and two cars, the MINI Cooper S, she and I shared, and the Porsche Cayenne 4 x 4 which I hated. He was paying the household bills but not her credit cards. This meant she was not able to indulge her habit, feed her craving or satisfy her tremendous need ........ for shopping that is! Thus, the number of Jimmy Choo, Fendi, Gucci and Louis Vuiton bags had dwindled to a mere trickle making her as mad as hell.

It was also, why I now lived with her in the large six bedroom rambling house in the suburbs of Essex, just outside London. I had been living in a flat dad owned in trendy Islington, but that had gone by the board, so now I had a daily commute into London to get to college, and what a fucking drag that was, I hated it.

"How's it going?" I asked, pretending not to look but ogling like hell as she leaned forward to pick up the wine bottle, which I noticed was as good as empty. I glanced at my watch and saw that it wasn't yet noon.

"He's being so bloody-minded and I do think it really is over this time", she went on answering a different question to what I asked for I meant with the project.

I was on tenterhooks staring down the front of her vest. I could see the lovely golden globes jiggling as she moved, the flesh glistening and almost all of the deep pink of both of my mother's nipples. It was all I could do to stop myself reaching out, sliding my hand down the front of her vest and cupping her luscious tits. Of course I didn't. Instead I went to my room, stripped completely naked and imagined I was, as I finger fucked myself to a moody, moaning and not at all satisfying orgasm.

Chapter 2

I had heard the bleep as a message was left on my mobile just as James was running his tongue along the crease of my pussy. It didn't seem polite to stop him, especially as he was paying a hundred pounds for the privilege of orally giving me an orgasm.

I checked my messages in the cab on the way home after finishing the shoot in the studio in Hackney, a few miles from Central London. I used this studio as much as I could for it had good changing facilities for the models, including a shower. That was essential nowadays, for quite often I ended the session having had cum on my breasts or face and having been very wet between my legs.

I was not that surprised to see that the message was from DD, David Durkins, my lover. Yes lover, not boy friend, partner, intended or friend, but lover. Such an evocative word and apt description. I had met him when I was at university. He was a lecturer in his late thirties, married with two children and I felt, unusually for me, that he was drop dead gorgeous; I do not accord many men with that description! Not just to look at, but to talk to and to think with and both of the latter are far more important to me than the former. DD had a great body, a wonderful mind and a sparkling personality. On top of that he was a bit of a philanderer, had a wandering eye, fancied me and could fuck like a superman; what more could a girl ask for?

He was, of course, married. His type always are aren't they? She was a little older than him, about forty-four, when he and I started. She was petite and very slim, titless I called her, with short hair cut in a sensible style and I suppose, in an elfish way, she was quite pretty, a bit like Audrey Hepburn, but without the fab eyes. She had thin lips and slightly slitty eyes making her look hard and stern, which I learned from DD, was how she really was. Hard, stern, cold and standoffish. How the fuck such a warm, handsome, loveable catch as David had married her I had no idea, but then I am biased.

She is some form of highflying civil servant and works on EU issues meaning she travels a lot to Brussels and Stuttgart. As both of their children are at boarding school that usually provides DD and me with ample opportunities to pursue our affair. It had been even easier when I was at uni for he then lived in Bristol whilst the bitch stayed in London, they would meet at weekends. However, shortly after I left Bristol DD landed a great job at London University so he followed me up to the smoke, yeah I wish, it was pure coincidence, but a nice one. The only real fly in the ointment was that as Mr. and Mrs. Durkins were both hugely successful and frantically busy careerists they had to have live in help in the large townhouse in Highgate. Luckily, she had a couple of afternoons and Monday evenings off so you can guess when I got my DD fixes can't you?

I txt back.

"Hi."

Quite quickly a reply came through.

"Hi how are things?"

I took a moment or two thinking about my reply. I hadn't seen David for almost a month, actually when I thought about it, it was nearer six weeks and even though my sex drive isn't that high, that's a long time with out full sex. He and the bitch were going through one of their regular attempts at mending their marriage and at such times, by mutual agreement, we had no contact.

"Gd ty and u?"

"With her, f awful, other things fine"

"Gr8." I sent back.

The phone rang.

"HI Sam," he said, his warm, chestnut voice sending a pang of something through my body.

"Hello David how are you?"

"Missing you, badly."

"So it didn't work then?"

"No, not properly, but we are staying together, for the children."

I was pleased, for although I yearned for him and loved being with him, I didn't want that to become too permanent, I didn't want to be too tied or entangled and, quite frankly, I got a kick from the illicitness of our affair.

"Best way." I said, truthfully.

"But my resolve is fading Sam."

"How do you mean?"

"I still want you so badly."

"Oh David."

"Sam I really do."

"You shouldn't."

"I know but I do, don't you."

I paused before whispering. "Yes."

"When can I see you?"

"When do you want to," I replied a bit lamely.

DD and I have never played games with our affair. We are both very aware that it will never really go anywhere, in some ways that's its attraction. We know we sort of love each other, but equally we know we are not in love. It's sexual convenience for both of us that lies at the heart of our affair. So I did not have to play the "persuade me role". I had told him when he had said about the latest attempted reconciliation that I would wait, and I had, but now that was over.

"What are you doing now?"

He did not know about my modelling, after all why should he.

"Er just on my way home from college."

"You're still living with your mum are you?"

"Yes."

"So any chance this evening? Would you like to make a detour?" He knew that Highgate was broadly on my way home to Essex.

Fortunately, I knew the driver well, for I used him frequently to cart me and my gear to and from jobs.

"Hold on a mo," I said, covering the phone.

"Mike," I said to the driver, "would you mind doing me a favour?"

"What's that Sammi?"

"Keeping my gear in your boot overnight, you're collecting me tomorrow."

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks mate, so can you drop me in Highgate then?"

"Sure, no problem, heavy date?"

Feeling elated and excited I smiled. "Yes something like that", as I uncovered the phone.

"I'll be there in half hour David, have the kettle on won't you?"

"Fantastic, yes I will, see you soon then."

"Mmmm, very soon."

I phoned mum and gave her some yarn about meeting an old friend Becky, who she vaguely knew, but would not have a phone number or anything, and that I was staying the night at her flat.

As we drove through North East London away from the rather depressing inner city deprivation of Hackney towards the leafy up market area of Highgate, I was thinking of the last time I had been to DD's house. It had been an absolute fucking disaster!

We had been out to lunch and we were both a bit pissed. I had hardly got inside the house and DD hadn't even closed the front door when were frantically kissing and tearing at each other's clothes. He got my top off and bra unclipped and I had undone all the buttons on his shirt while we were still in the hallway. I went to make for the stairs, but only got half way up when he caught me and pulled me down. He roughly, for that was what the mood demanded, got my jeans and panties round my knees as he held me face down on the staircase in real Renee Rouso, what a sexy woman she is, in The Thomas Crown Affair style. DD was on top of me pushing my legs apart and squeezing and pinching my bum as he prepared to enter me from behind. It was just as his hard, hot cock touched my pussy lips that the titless bitch came home!!!

You can see now why they had to be working at some sort of reconciliation!

He opened the door saying. "Well the kettle is on and that's all." He was stark bollock naked holding his mobile phone in his hand.

"Shush, don't say a word", he whispered as he pressed a few keys and showed me the number that was clearly international. He pushed the loudspeaker button and I heard his wife's voice. They chatted a bit in a distant and rather cold manner with her telling him she was just about to go to the official dinner. They finished the call with no affectionate sign off and certainly no, I love you, as many married couples do, even my mum and dad who clearly do not love each other. But at least, it was clear the titless bitch would not be disturbing us this time.

He took me into his arms and we kissed. It was sublime, it was tender, it was affectionate, it was passionate and so fucking exciting that I almost started to cum on the spot. I had never been kissed by a naked man when I was fully dressed. It's wonderful and I can thoroughly recommend it.

"So no surprises this time then," I whispered kissing his chest and slipping my hand between us to stroke his growing erection.

"Nope, no chance," he replied gripping both of my bum cheeks and pulling me harder against him before breaking away and going back to the front door saying, "but just in case," as he slid the bolts across. 

He kissed me again, deep, hard and long and pressed the firmness fullness of his, now, fully enlarged cock against my tummy. God it was sensational and made me so want him. 

I moved back a few inches as he slid the jacket I was wearing over the tee shirt and jeans off my shoulders. His mouth engulfed mine, his tongue plunged into my throat and his fingers wiggled their way into the waist of my low cut jeans. He pushed them further down until both sets of fingers were digging into the fleshy fullness of the cheeks of my bum. I felt so rampant and adventurous. I leaned back, got hold of the tee and pulled it up. I pulled it up and up, across my waist, over my stomach past my breasts and over my head. I threw onto the black and white, tiled hallway floor. His mouth immediately went to my boobs searching for and finding my enraged nipples inside my bra. I reached into each cup and eased my tits out to give him better access and provide me with more pleasure. His mouth on those flaming pink buds after so long was fantastic and we both felt a further forceful surge of passion and need.

"Ok bitch", he growled. "We've got some unfinished business haven't we?"

I didn't know what he meant, but I quickly found out.

He manoeuvred me towards the stairs, but it was not until we had fumbled our way up four or five with our mouths clamped together and our hands roaming the other's body that I realised what he meant. Fucking Renee Rouso I thought as again he pushed me face down on the stairs. Kneeling behind me, he pushed his bent leg upwards so it pressed right against my pussy. I squirmed against it and that was good, he pushed harder and I forced myself more firmly backwards. He was fucking me with his leg, I realised, as he built up the orgasmic sensations in me. At the same time as he was doing that, I felt his hands pulling at the waistband of my jeans, I wasn't wearing a belt. As a slavish follower of fashion, the waistband was more round my hips, round that fleshy part of a woman, than round my waist. 

They were sliding down, with the brass button still done up and the zip in place. I felt my hips, then the upward swell of my bum then all of it being exposed. Oddly, at first, the sensation that was paramount in my mind was the slight chill I felt and the thought that hit me was relief that I had put panties on after the session, for sometimes I didn't

However, the time for rational sensations and thinking was gone. My jeans were now almost down to my knees and DD was pulling the thong to one side. Hey, hang on, no he wasn't. He wasn't simply pulling it to one side; no, he wasn't just moving the material, readjusting the gusset and exposing my pussy so he could get at it. He was yanking at it, pulling it, stretching it. "Oh fuck," I thought, my heart pounding, "he's going to tear it". And that's exactly what he did, he ripped the thong from me, making me whimper and moan with excitement and anticipation. It was an incredible feeling to have my knickers torn away from me.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 15



Then all hell broke loose.

He was lying on my back his arms round me, his hands squeezing my tits and his fingers pulling my nipples. His cock was between my thighs that he'd forced open as far as the jeans round my knees would allow and his belly was squashed against the cheeks of my bum. I remember thinking what a deliciously sordid picture it was and momentarilly I wished that the titless bitch would once more turn up.

David was trying to push his way into me, but somehow it just wasn't happening and that certainly was not due to lack of lubrication on part, I was streaming.

"Oh fuck," he said in that charmingly slightly up-market accent, a little bit like Hugh Grant, I always thought.

"What's happening?" I asked, the feeling of frustration getting to me as much as it was to him. I went on jokingly, "lost your hard on."

"Don't be daft."

"Well I have heard it happens to older men now and then."

"Don't even go there", he admonished jokingly as he made another effort to get it up me. "It's the angle."

I moved around a bit, but still did not feel that glorious whooshy feeling as a man's erection surges right up my pussy.

He got hold of both my hips. "It's the fucking angle, you're at?" he growled as he lifted my bottom up a bit.

"I didn't know there was one," I muttered, being the smart arse even in such circumstances.

"One what?"

"A fucking ang ooooooooooooooooo,"

Then he got the angle right and thrust himself right up me. And boy was that good.

It really is such a fucking, enormously, horny feeling when a man's cock penetrates you. The sensations as he surges deep into your innards stimulating your outer and inner lips, your clitoris and the tender walls of that "magic cavity" are amazing. 

But it's more than merely the physical stimulation, isn't it girls? It's also the emotional buzz. The surge of adrenalin and the mental blast you get as you surrender, as he invades your body and takes your virtuesd as the two of you join so stunningly tightly together. As you become one not knowing where you end and he starts. Yes, there's all those mental and emotional stimulations as your lover starts to fuck you.

As DD started to fuck me, I started to cum. Whether the speed of that was down to not having had full sex for six weeks, whether it was the beautiful, wanton sordidness of being taken half-way up a staircase, whether it was because of the depth of penetration he got from being behind and slightly beneath me I don't know for sure. Probably a little of each, but also, and here comes the bitchy side of me, some of it was due to him wanting me so soon after the titless bitch had left him on his own.

He had pulled and yanked me so I was almost kneeling on one stair with my elbows supporting me three or four stairs further up the staircase. My jeans were round my knees, the ripped remnants of my thong was flapping uselessly round my thighs, my legs were open and my bum was in the air. DD had his arms round me, one hand searching between my legs, stroking my lips and rubbing my clit, the other alternating between my tits and nipples as he slammed himself in and out of me and up and down my pussy. I was trying to increase my pleasure by reaching behind me and feeling his cock or balls that were slapping against my bum, but couldn't really reach properly

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he was moaning

"Yes, harder David, faster, fuck me harder", I groaned back.

I was looking over my shoulder at my naked lover fucking me when I saw him move his arms from around me. I was bent almost ninety degrees at the waist while DD was kneeling, his body pretty much upright. I could not see his cock going in and out of me, something I adore watching particularly in a mirror, but I loved seeing the thrusting movements of his hips and stomach as I felt those gorgeous sensations inside me. 

I watched him run his hands over my bum then felt him squeeze both cheeks, hard. That made me grunt with pain, but as he held my flesh like that, the hurt feelings quickly subsided and combined with the wonderful sensations inside my pussy to send me further towards that wall of feelings that I knew would soon engulf me.

I could feel his urgency increasing and was pretty sure he was getting near; I knew I was right on the brink.

We were both moaning, groaning, grunting and sighing. We were both squirming, thrusting, pushing and grinding as together we began to cum. 

He was holding my bum, his fingers digging deep into the soft, pliant flesh. Still looking over my shoulder, my bare breasts scraping against the rough carpet, I saw him move his hand, but as it was along my bum I couldn't see precisely where. I felt something else apart from his cock pressing against my lips and realised it was his finger, maybe his thumb. Then I felt, what I was now sure was, his thumb on me. It was on the inside of my cheeks, in my crease, between those soft mounds of flesh, yes, DD was pressing his thumb right against my anus. 

I'm not really that much into anal, I guess the attraction must be mostly emotional for I don't find it that physically pleasurable. After all we don't have a doughnut shaped, sensitive gland up there do we, unlike men and dogs, the only species that do, odd pairing I have always thought!

However, as DD's thumb, coated and lubricated with my own secretions, pressed right against my hole I felt yet another explosion of orgasmic feelings. With my legs wide open and him squeezing the cheeks of my bum, my anal entrance was already stretched. It just needed only the slightest pressure from him or me and his thumb would be in me. I have no real recollection where that pressure came from, DD or me, probably a little from both, but pressure there most certainly was. And from that pressure, his thumb opened the serrated entrance to my arse, and from that opening, he slid inside me, and from his thumb sliding inside me there was an enormous eruption of sensations, which he sent me right over the top.

I didn't know until it was all over that as DD shoved his thumb right up my bum and made me cum so violently, he also climaxed. I didn't feel his cum spurting into me and I have to admit, rather guiltily, his pleasure at that moment was furthest from my mind. Kneeling there on the staircase, still half dressed, my ripped thong hanging down, DD's cock up my cunt and his thumb up my arse I only had thoughts for one thing. My pleasure. And I got that by the bucketload.

Chapter 3

Still in the scoop-fronted tee shirt and bikini pants mum prepared some lunch, cheese toasties and a bottle of Chablis. 

It struck me as being a little early for lunch, for it hardly seemed as though it was a morning's time away that DD had last fucked me, but then that had been around nine and it was now twelve so I wasn't losing touch with time.

She was clearly drinking too much, but then what the hell? She was losing her husband to some young bit of stuff in the office and was facing the future alone. Pretty well off, but lonely and that did not sit comfortably with my mother. No, she was the sort of person that wanted it all and didn't think she should go without in any way. Compromise just was not in mum's dictionary! Obviously a family trait I thought, as I compared myself to her!

I wanted the college course in Stage, TV and Film Production but I did not want the "poverty" of being a student, so I modeled. I didn't want a steady boy friend, but had an older lover. I didn't have a huge sex drive, but most days now I had some form of sex. I tried to lead a reasonably good life, giving what I could to charity, reading the Guardian and worrying about global warming and poverty in Africa, yet I let men orally give me orgasm and cum on my breasts as extras to my explicit posing. So yes, we were both extremists and non-compromisers in many ways.

"You remember that photographer chap Colin?"

"No", I immediately lied, my normal tactic when feeling threatened or hearing something that was likely to bring me grief.

"Yes you do, he sent me those photos he saw of you at that studio."

"Oh hi

"Yes him, Colin."

"What about him?"

I switched off as she droned on about what a good friend he was, my mind going back to the wonderful night I had just had with DD.

I could not remember the last time I spent an entire night in a lover's bed and, equally, I had forgotten just how marvelous that can be. To be naked all night with him, to be held and cuddled, to feel his body against yours, to be woken with his hardness against you, in the crease of your bottom or, even more magically, inside you is awesome. To have so many orgasms you lose count and to be made love to seemingly endlessly through the night is amazing. To have the tenderness, the attention, the care and the most obvious declarations of his want for you is fabulously cool. 

I heard mum say.

"And he would like to meet you", but then the phone went and she started nattering to what I took to be one of her of tennis cronies.

I sat across the table from her eating my sandwich and frequently looking down the front of her vest at her gorgeous breasts. As she chatted animatedly into the phone, she was leaning forward and back making her tits jiggle and wobble in the most alluring ways. Feasting my eyes on them and thinking back to last night I could feel myself becoming aroused and I knew that I would be dampening down below. It was quite nice actually. Nice and wonderfully, wickedly sordid to be sitting sipping wine, ogling my mother's breasts, having lesbian thoughts about her and going over in my mind what happened throughout the night with my male lover.

After we had finished on the stairs, we went laughing and joking about Renee Rouso and Piers Brosnan to the bathroom where we had a bath together. That was lovely, although the tiles on the floor did get rather wet, despite the size of the Victorian cast iron tub. We tried to have sex in the bath but it didn't really work as we just couldn't get a comfortable position without totally flooding the bathroom. To be truthful, it was also a little early for DD and what with the water sloshing around my pussy and his only semi-hardness it was a bit too ambitious for us. So, laughing we agreed to give trying for the time being. The problems of having an older lover I thought wryly!

An hour or so later, though, we did not have those inhibiting factors. . 

We were in the first floor lounge, it was dark with only the street lamps lighting the room. We both had white, fluffy gowns on, which by then were gaping more and more. The bottom part of DD's would often slip open as the two sides parted giving me views of his lean thighs, now and then his balls and once or twice his penis. The lapels were also gaping, almost permanently, as we ate fruit and cheese and drank Champagne, celebrating our getting back together. I know mine was probably gaping and slipping open even more than his was, but I didn't care and certainly did nothing to stop it or cover myself. After all just a couple of hours ago, and now most days of the week, I exposed myself totally, often to complete strangers, so why not to my lover.

He went to the kitchen to get another bottle. Returning he stood before me undoing the cork. I looked up as I heard that pop and fly to the ceiling. 

"God do I want you Sammi?" He said as he pulled on the tie round his waist letting the gown open.

I immediately understood just how much he wanted me for he was fully erect.

"Oh David, yes, that's wonderful," I moaned, reaching out and putting my arms round his hips. 

I pulled him towards where I was sitting on the edge of the sofa and squashed his gorgeous erection against my face. It was so hard, beautifully smooth and nicely warm. I looked up at him as I took it in my hands and leaned forward more. My eyes locked with his, I brought him towards me as I moved my face towards it. Still staring deeply into each other's eyes, I put my tongue out and I watched him watching me, as I licked the uncovered tip. His body jerked. That was nice. I licked down his length, still looking into his eyes. I licked up it then down again, this time not stopping at the base but going on to roll my tongue all round his balls. He put his hands on my head stroking my long, blonde hair and lifting up large swathes of it, pulling them a bit. I eased his erection downward away from his flat stomach, straightening it a little, getting it to the right angle, making it accessible for me and positioning it correctly, yes I was getting him into a position where I could suck his cock.

"Mmmmm Sammi, yes, yes, my darling", he moaned as my mouth closed round it.

He tasted good, but then he always did, and he felt even better. There really is something so extraordinarily intimate about sucking your lover's cock, isn't there? Even more so in many ways than having him suck and lick you, I always think.

I slid my mouth up and down its length holding the shaft with one hand and cradling, cupping and rolling his balls around in the other. David's hands were now running all over my head, face and neck. He was squeezing and stroking and tugging on strands of my hair. We were both, I think, beginning to lose control. His hips had started thrusting with the same rhythm I was pumping him in and out of my mouth and on each inward surge he was going further into my mouth. I had never learned how to deep throat, that is if such a Linda Lovelace action was really possible, so as the bulbous end of his cock hit the back of my throat I felt as if I would choke. As much as I willed it, I could not get it to slip into my throat so I had to content myself to having DD just fuck my mouth and not my throat.

"Well both of us actually", I suddenly realised my mother was talking to me not to the phone.

"Er sorry mum."

"Colin, the photographer he would like to see us both."

I had been so wrapped up in my reveries on last night that I had forgotten what we had been talking about.

"Oh yes," I said vaguely, not really that interested and certainly not concentrating, for my mind was still soaking up the delicious memories of my night with DD. "Be back in a mo, just need to go to the loo".

In the loo my mind was again on last night, well yesterday overall really. It had been quite some day and night.

I had modeled in the afternoon, a two-hour session that was worth £150, which was a good start. The fact that the photographer was in his mid-thirties, was quite good looking with a nice wit and a bold and creative style of posing me and taking his shots made things even better. We got on well and had only just got into the second hour when I was naked and James said.

"Er, do the legs come open Sammi?"

Smiling I said that they did and he spent some time on what I laughingly call gyno shots. After ten minutes or so of recording the pinky folds and reddish layers of skin of my gynoarea we moved to the next level. The level where he was asking me to imagine certain situations. The level where, as I lie on the bed or the floor, in just holds ups or a thong, he would say.

"Imagine you want sex Sammi; show me that in your face."

"Look as though you want to be shagged."

"Stare at the camera Sammi, pretending you're making love to it."

Or most strongly. "Give me that just fucked look luv."

Of course, I complied, naturally, I pouted and sighed and inevitably, I went with his suggestions.

"Cup your breasts for me Sammi."

And as he became more adventurous, "hold your tits, Sam, squeeze you nipples."

Moving swiftly onto.

"Touch your pussy", and "rub your clit for me Sammi" and finally, "slide your fingers in will you?"

The studio would have told him that such things were included in the £150, although fingering myself wasn't actually specified and it was rather dubious whether it really was in the price. Nevertheless, I indulged him and excited myself by doing just as he asked. Both he and the studio would know full well, of course, what was not included. They are the extras. 

Photographers usually get round to them after the gyno shots and the, as I call it, "touchy feely" posing. Often they beat around the bush and take ages getting to the point. James did not, so it was only a short while later that his soft hands were caressing my breasts and I was holding his erection as he undressed. Just moments later, my nipples were in his mouth and his hands were between my opened legs his fingers visiting that gynoarea he had recently been snapping.

He had gone a la carte with the menu and had chosen the top level, the most expensive offerings. My hundred pound, everything but full sex dish. So he finger fucked me, he caressed and stroked my tits and pussy, I gave him oral with a rubber and he made me cum with his mouth. To finish, I masturbated him as he touched me anywhere, with him cumming on my tits.

So, if the late afternoon and early evening had been good, as in two hundred and fifty quids worth of good, the icing on the cake had been DD calling me and us getting together, literally.

I wandered back to the patio. Mum had gone. I wondered where, but couldn't be bothered to look for her, so I flopped down onto one of the sun beds, slipped my tee shirt off and lay there in my bra; my eyes closed loving the sun on my body.

My mind was, of course on yesterday and this morning for they held numerous lovely memories for me. Perhaps the strongest and in many ways the most significant, although it was only now looking back that it struck me, was sucking DD's cock. It wasn't that he tasted wonderful, it wasn't the clear pleasure he was gaining, it wasn't that it had been such a time since I had done that for him and it wasn't even, that he didn't cum, for he pulled himself away from me and fucked me beautifully. No, it was the realisation that I had sucked two different men's cock within the space of only two hours. That gave me a touch of guilt, but to be truthful it gave me more of a buzz than a feeling of remorse. Again, it hit home to me, just how able I was to compartmentalise my life! How I was able to do something in one compartment that I was relatively comfortable with, whereas in another I would be alarmed. At times I did wonder, though, just where that might lead to, one day.

"He has a proposition for us", I heard mum say.

I opened my eyes and almost jerked upright. She was standing right beside me in just her bikini bottom and that was a small white bathing thong. She looked breathtakingly beautifully and so stunningly sexy I wanted to pull her down onto the snubbed with me and bury my face between her spectacular breasts. They looked even more amazing than when I had last seen them

"What proposition?"

"Look", mum said leaning forward, flashing me a great view of both of her tits, "I can only tell you what he has told me".

"Sure, but didn't he say anything else?"

"No not really."

"What do you mean, not really?" I asked.

I did not get an answer for she dived into the pool, her boobs creating a wonderful image as they dangled down from her body just before she hit the water; that made me flinch a bit.

I watched as she swam leisurely, but purposefully, up and down the pool using a graceful breaststroke; unlike me she was a good swimmer. I found it hard to drag my eyes away from her. The kicking action of her legs, the opening and closing of her thighs and of course, the bareness of the nicely rounded cheeks of her full bum made for a highly erotic vision in the water.

"Pass me a towel love?" She asked as she climbed up the ladder. I couldn't help noticing that her thong had slipped a bit and some of her pubes were on show. I gave her the towel trying to avoid staring too obviously at my near naked mother who looked absolutely fabulous with her tanned skin glistening with the water and the sun oil.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 15



"Well nothing, he didn't say any more," she said running her hands through her hair making her breasts jiggle most appetisingly. "That's why he suggested we all meet up and he will explain it. You said you would be in this evening, would that be ok?"

I hadn't got anything on that evening and as the whole thing sounded rather interesting, I agreed.

"Yes sure, what time?"

"I'll ask him to pop round for dinner shall I?"

"Sure, why not?" I replied casually, well as casually as I could manage.

I went to my room to shower and change for the afternoon. I was totally aroused and full of sexual expectancy from the combination of thinking about last night with DD and being with my half-naked mother this morning.

I don't know whether I imagined it was her hands or David's that were on my boobs, as I cupped and squeezed my breasts. Whether it was her fingers or tongue, or DD's dick or mouth that ran round my pussy lips, pressed my clit and slid slightly inside me as I lay on my bed masturbating. I don't know who I was imagining making love with as yet another orgasm washed over me. I don't know whose arms I imagined I was lying in as I lay on my bed, naked, my hands still between my legs as I came down from the heights of yet another climax during this amazing two days. No, I don't know just what it was that was in my mind as I fucked myself, thinking equally about my mother and my lover.

Although it was quite warm outside I was a little chilly so I slid under the bedclothes. I was also tired, well after all, you don't get much sleep when you sleep with a lover you haven't slept with for ages, do you? 

I may have dozed off, I probably drifted in and out of snoozing and certainly, I dreamed, vividly, graphically and extraordinarily erotically. Somehow though, the recall of last night's and this morning's action with DD kept being wonderfully interrupted with amazing and so exciting images of my mother. It is hard to explain, hard to recall accurately and hard to understand properly, but I will try. I would be recalling something that happened with DD, perhaps his face between my legs or his mouth on my nipple, when suddenly my mother's lips would encircle my other nipple. I'd be thinking, when I was sure I was awake, of holding his cock or feeling that pressed against my bum, belly or boobs when, that changed and it became my mum's breast and nipples that were pressing on my flesh. It really was quite a surreal little nap.

From my sleep, I vaguely heard a knock on my door and mum calling my name.

"Come in mum", I said stretching under the thin sheet, which was all that was between my nudity and me.

She had tied one of those thin, net, beach wraps around her. Knotted just above her breasts, they sort of covered them, but at the same time left, quite a lot revealed, including both her nipples. I could clearly see them through the, as good as, diaphanous material and I found it hard dragging my gaze away from them.

"Have a nice snooze?" She asked sitting on the edge of my bed and handing me a cup of Earl Gray tea.

"Thanks, yes I did, great."

"Good she smiled", looking right at me making my body tingle as her breasts jiggled under the thin gauze. 

It was such a tough task resisting touching myself somewhere enjoyable and at one time, I had this urge to throw back the sheet and ask her to join me. I didn't though, of course, but I was so near to revealing my lesbian feelings towards her that I frightened myself.

"We decided to go out to Nino's." She announced naming a local Italian pizzeria cum trattoria.

"Huh?"

"With Colin, he suggested he takes us to dinner."

"Oh, ok, sure, what time?"

"Early, for he is going to Prague on business tomorrow morning. Six thirty ok?"

I sat up and looked at my watch. I saw that it was after five.

"That'll be fine", I said suddenly realising the sheet had slipped down and my breasts were bare. I looked at her and she was staring at them, or so I thought. Without thinking, for if I was totally truthful to myself, I wanted her to see my tits, in fact, I wanted her to do a lot more than just look at them, I pulled the sheet up, covering them. She stood up, but kept looking at me.

"There's no need to cover up Sammi, I am after all your mother," she said in a rather more serious tone than normal as she stared at me. I looked at her and said.

"Yes, silly really," as I let go of the sheet, baring my breasts, hoping against hope my nipples hadn't hardened. 

She seemed to stare rather intently at my far smaller boobs than hers. Was she looking at them in the same way I looked at hers, I wondered? It seemed like it, but that may just have been wishful thinking on my part. I wasn't sure, though, how could I be?

Suddenly I felt bold, ambitious, adventurous and a little wild. I lost my inhibitions. I sat up, turned my body, pushed the sheet back, placed my feet on the floor and stood up. I was just a few feet from her, totally naked. I was sure I saw a spark of desire in her eyes as they ran up and down my body. 

Was this it? Was this the time? Was this the moment? Was this when I was going to commit lesbian incest with my mother? 

I felt a rush of heat and shudders go through my body. I looked right into her eyes, half expecting her to open her arms and move towards me. But she didn't. Instead, she did nothing but said quietly.

"You really do have a lovely body Sammi, I am so proud of you", as she abruptly turned and left my room.

Chapter 4

I had a long, lazy bath. I needed it. I needed the bath to relax, to unwind, to get yesterday, the photographer and DD out of my system and to push today and my sexual obsession with my mother out of my mind.

Of course being naked and immersed in water with, at times, just my nipples appearing above the surface did little to achieve either of those needs. Another quick wank in the bath, though, eventually did the trick.

This time, as I stroked and cajoled my body to yet another orgasm, I was not only trying to recall how many climaxes I'd had in the last twenty four hours, but was also recalling the truly momentous fuck that DD and I had after I had so deliciously sucked his cock.

He had gently pulled my face away from his erection and had kneeled down taking me in his arms and kissing me deeply and wonderfully. We eased the robes off each other so were both naked. For a few moments, we simply just knelt there holding each other, revelling in the others bareness. It was glorious. He pulled me up so were standing, still kissing and still in each other's arms. Our hands wandered everywhere as my tits felt the fabulousness of being squashed against his chest and my stomach reverberated with the most amazing convulsions of sexual want as he pushed his swollen, very hard load deeply into my softness. His bum felt wonderful as my hands cupped, grasped and squeezed his perfect cheeks and my cheeks sent shock waves of sensations through me as he gripped, squeezed, pushed and pulled them.

Just like in the movies he picked me. Our mouths clamped together he carried me into their bedroom. He gently laid me down on the huge, Victorian style bed with the wrought iron headboard. 

Looking up at him, I lay there naked, in the middle of the bed. 

In that bed. 

In their bed. 

In the marital bed. 

And I thought "up yours" to the titless bitch, as David joined me on that bed.

He again took me in his arms. 

He again pressed himself against me. 

He again stroked me: my face, my hair, my lips, my chest, my breasts, my bum, my thighs and my tummy. 

He again pressed, pinched and squeezed me,

And all the time we kissed, deeply, passionately, lip squirmingly and tongues plunging deep into the other's throat.

He lay on top of me. His cock was pressed against my pubis; my breasts were squashed against his chest. Our arms were round each other. Our fingers were exploring, touching, stroking, pressing and gently scratching as they, after such a time, became reacquainted with their lover's body.

We kissed. We kissed with our lips, our tongues, our mouths, our hands and our entire body. We kissed so deeply. We kissed so passionately and so knowingly. We knew what was coming and yes, I almost giggled, we knew who was cumming as well! 

David wiggled his body. It was his sign, his signal, his request to me. I pushed upwards a little and opened my legs. That was my sign, my signal, my invitation to him. He slid downwards accepting that invitation. He was between my opened thighs. His mouth was still strongly clasped to mine, our eyes were closed, our hands were gripping the other, the tip of his cock was pressing against my lips. So close, so near and so soon, I knew.

David was about to fuck me again. 

But no, I realised, this was not a fuck. The Renee Rouso on the stairs was a fuck. This was so different. This was two lovers making love, not two people having sex, not a man and a woman screwing, shagging or fucking. This was me, Sammi, a twenty-one, nearly, year old girl/woman making love with her forty something lover. And it was glorious.

It needed just the lightest of shrugs of his hips, the slightest push, the merest surge, the gentlest of thrusts for David to enter me. He slid inside me so easily. So fully inside me. He filled me, totally and utterly. 

I felt like a Jane Austen heroine for I nearly swooned. So powerful were the emotions I felt as my lover penetrated me so deeply, as he started to fuck, no sorry, make love to me, I came near to fainting. It was glorious. A package of emotions, feelings and sensations of awesome proportions. At that moment, as DD slowly slid himself up and down inside me, I loved him. As he began making such wondrous love to me, I hated her, his wife. And as we kissed and shagged, so I reveled in the fact that my lover, DD was making love to me in the bed that he shared with the titles bitch. Not honourable sentiments I know, but nevertheless very feminine ones! 

We didn't last long. But then great sex doesn't have to be a marathon does it? Sure, it shouldn't be a sprint, not like a hundred metres dash, but it can be like a middle distance race, perhaps a eight or fifteen hundred metres, can't it? Ours was probably somewhere between the two.

He didn't thrust himself in and out of me at great speed or power. He didn't pound away at me. It certainly was not hard, raw sex. No, it was loving, tender, caring sex. It was sex of the good kind, real lovers sex, nice sex, satisfying sex. It was the sort of sex that took me, so easily, near to an orgasm and then held me there for what seemed ages. Held me right there as if I was a surfer riding near to the crest of the wave waiting for something to take me over the top, waiting, waiting and deliciously waiting until that something happened. Then when it happened, the explosion of sensations was so great that once more I was in fear of fainting. In fear of that, but without doubt I was moaning and sighing, grunting and groaning and then when I hit that wall of feelings, I was screaming. 

I could hear that scream as my bath time hand fuck took me back to that same place. As once more, I climaxed. As I again had an orgasm thinking about my wondrous night with DD.

When I looked at them across the table to me in Nino's, it seemed as obvious as night follows day that Colin had fucked my mum. They had that easy intimacy between them, that holding each other's gaze and the little touches, smile and jokes that lovers develop. I immediately disliked him. Jealousy or feeling sorry for my dad? I wasn't really sure, but as we chatted over pizzas and beer I came to accept him a little more.

"They were great photos Sammi," he said, probably providing the reason for my change of heart. 

"Thanks," I replied as we sipped our espressos. "Nothing that special, just a bit of skin flashing", I went on trying to put him down a bit.

"They were much more than that. Much more."

"Why? How do you mean?"

"The way you associate with the camera, Sammi, they showed that you have an affinity with it."

"Really?" I asked, actually now quite interested for a couple of other quite good photographers I used to pose for when I worked the amateur photography clubs had said the same.

"Yes, most models don't have that. They either look bored or uncomfortable, or both. They don't seem to relate to the camera, you do Sammi, you seem to almost be making love to it."

As pleased as I was with the compliments I was a little uncomfortable hearing them said in front of my mother. However, when I looked at her and saw her nodding encouragingly I relaxed.

Mum joined in. "I agree with Colin, I thought you looked wonderful dear," she said, patting the back of my hand.

"It must run in the family," Colin was saying as he poured us all another glass of Frascati. "Amanda is such a natural as well."

"Is she?" I asked. "Have you modeled then mum?" I didn't think it worth while letting on to them that I had nosed around mum's PC when looking at the shots of me that Colin had sent her.

"Yes a little."

"Professionally?" I asked, "Or what?"

She and Colin looked at each other exchanging a glance that if I had any doubt about them being lovers would certainly have given the game away.

"No, of course not."

"What then?"

She did actually look a little embarrassed. "I had some done as a sort of present for your dad."

"Oooooo," I smiled, mischievously asking. "Who took them then?" I knew full well what the answer would be.

Colin said. "Actually I did and she really is a natural, just as you are Sam and that's why I wanted to see both of you."

Mum was squirming a bit. After all the tables in Italian pizzerias are notoriously close together and Nino's, where both she and I are quite well known, was particularly crowded that evening.

"How about we continue this at home?" She suggested.

I wasn't sure, but I thought, as I brought the coffee into the conservatory, that Colin moved away from mum. "Had they been kissing?" I wondered, for they both looked a little guilty.

I sat next to mum on the sofa, Colin stood in front of us.

"Shall I tell you both what this is all about?"

I nodded, mum said, "Yes please."

"OK. Well you know I am a professional photographer?" This time we both nodded as he continued. "And each year I enter a number of competitions, in fact I'm going to Prague tomorrow for one. Most years I win one and usually come in the top ten in several others."

"What sort of competitions?" I asked.

"Photographic on a whole range of topics. The one in Prague is still life, I came third in an abstract one a couple of weeks ago and I won another on car photography earlier in the year."

"OK."

"I'm thinking of entering one which is part of the Berlin Festival."

"What's that?" Mum asked. "A festival of what?"

I couldn't tell whether she had been primed or not or whether this was a bit of a wind up when Colin answered.

"It's the Berlin Festival of Erotic Art to give it its full title."

"Oh fuck," I thought, "where is this leading?"

"There are quite a few areas to the festival, painting, sculpture, film, literature and, of course, photography."

"And you want me to pose for you?" I asked.

"Yes, but not alone."

"No?"

"No Sammi," he replied. "I want you and Amanda to pose together."

"Together? How?"

"The name of my topic is Mother and Daughter."

"What sort of shots?" I asked not daring to look at my mother in fear of showing the excitement that was blasting through me.

"Similar to in that portfolio I saw?"

"Nudes?"

"Yes some, but all very tender and caring. All highly erotic and not at all porn."

We were all silent for a moment.

He went on. "The prizes are outstanding. If we won we would get twenty thousand Euros and certainly we would be published quite widely and that would bring many more thousands."

Mum laughed. "Where do we sign, I need the money."

"You sure mum, what if dad or anyone else saw them?"

"It's highly unlikely," Colin said, "unless they are into photography."

"Well your father certainly isn't and I don't know anyone that is. Anyway if they were they would understand wouldn't they."

"Yes they would," Colin suggested

"They might understand, but they would still see our tits mum," I blurted out the wine making me feel bold.

"Well you flash those at your photographer clients all the time now Sammi, so that wouldn't be anything new would it?" She said laughing. "Anyway love you've got great tits and a body to be proud of, why not use it?"

Getting onto the mood I replied, sounding far more intense than I intended as I looked right into my mother's eyes.

"Well so have you, your tits are...." I paused, but I could not stop myself from using the description that always came into my mind when I thought of her breasts. "Delicious."

She looked a little flustered as we held our gazes. Colin, perhaps sensing something significant, or unfortunate, jumped in quickly.

"So?" Colin asked. What do we all think?"

"Are you sure about the topic? I mean I am getting on a bit, for nude posing," mum said, clearly fishing for the comments she got from both of us about how she didn't look her age and had a body of someone much younger.

"I am positive about it?" Colin said firmly. "It must be one of the most erotic subjects there is."

"How come?" I asked in all innocence.

"Well Sammi," he started, hesitating before adding", and Amanda. It's the most dramatic male fantasy there is."

"What is?" We both asked, almost in unison.

He looked from mum to me then back again several times before saying quietly.

"I want to take mother and daughter lesbian incest shots."



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 16



Hi

For those that are returning to read more about me, you will know that I lead a varied sex life. Not that I have a really high drive, more that I seem to get sexual thrills from different things to most girls of my age. I seem to get involved in sexually stimulating situations, I seem, as it were, to bump into sex, without even looking for it. Very odd. It does, though, I think,( but then I would wouldn't I?), make for interesting reading. If you have been following my bio, then you are a testament to that, if you are a newcomer, then I hope you decide to join our club.

If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. In most parts, and particularly in this one where my mother features strongly, I refer back to what has happened in previous parts, so they should be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Nevertheless, whatever way you do read them, I hope you enjoy them and get as much pleasure and excitement from reading them as I do from writing them.

Please feel free to leave whatever comments you wish or e-mail me if you prefer.

*

Chapter 1

The first time I looked at my mother's breasts in a sexual way was that day I came home from Bristol unexpectedly. 

I had decided to leave university half way through my second year and had chosen that Thursday as I knew dad was away on a business trip, but then he nearly always was. Mum was an easier touch on such a delicate subject as their daughter dropping out of college.

She would soften him up, or that was the plan. I didn't know at the time that they were going through a really sticky period that has subsequently led to them parting. But then, spoiled, rich bitches do not think too much about other people's problems do they? Well I didn't then; perhaps I do a little more now though!

To see my mother kneeling on the mat in the small gym was a surprise. It was particularly a surprise as she was not alone and especially one because of the way she was dressed. Sure she was wearing the regular leotard and leggings but not in the conventional way. I mean, you don't usually wear the neckline of your leotard around your waist do you? You don't normally have both straps pulled down your arms and generally, you wear a bra under your top don't you? Mum, though, was wearing the neckline round her waist, the shoulder straps were hanging down and she most definitely was not wearing a bra. Her breasts were completely bare.

It was that, I think, which first hit me, when I quietly opened the door and went to walk in. To paraphrase, it stopped me in my tracks. It was not how she was wearing the leotard or that she was not wearing a bra, it was the bareness. It was the fullness, the firmness and the roundness of her breasts. They looked so ripe and delicious. The fact that she was holding them and pressing them together, the fact that her nipples looked so puckered and hard and the fact that between them was the hard cock of her personal trainer did not register anywhere near as strongly with me as the sheer gorgeousness of my mother's breasts.

Nothing was said then or since. All that was exchanged between us was a smile.

The vision of her breasts stayed with me. That night when I masturbated, they were in my hands, my mouth was all over them and I made the most exquisite love to my mother's tits.

Over the next few months as her and dad's marriage crumbled, he went to live In Spain, I had to leave the flat he owned and moved back home I had many more moments when I felt extraordinarily, strong sexual feelings towards her, generally and her breasts in particular. I also made exquisite love to them many times, in my mind.

There were several particularly difficult times when I came so close to giving the game away about my lesbian desires for my mother.

The time she and I were in Spain. The weather was lousy and I went to her room.

"Why don't you slip in with me and we'll watch TV?" she had said.

I did. She was wearing a white button up the front, satin nighty. She did not realise but more buttons were undone than there should have been. Every time she moved, large expanses of her breasts were shown. We were so close in the bed, almost cuddling and all the time parts of us were touching. How I stopped myself touching them I just don't know.

Mum swims in our half indoor and half outdoor pool nearly every day. Often naked and always topless, the first time I saw her in the pool after the gym episode, I was overwhelmed by seeing her naked breasts as she performed a lazy backstroke. On holiday, I had seen her topless for all my life and had thought nothing of it. When she climbed out of the pool, pulling her bikini pants up over the crease in her bum and her pubic line, and I held a towel out for her, I was in agony. Her gorgeous breasts with the nipples wrinkled and swollen slightly from the coldness of the water, were so close and so inviting. They were also so forbidden.

There had been other times. Times with reducing frequency between them, like now it seemed almost every day I would find myself being turned on by her. No not by her really, more by her breasts. They would be in my mind almost endlessly. My imagination would lodge those glorious orbs in my inner vision, so when I was on a train or at college studying, I could see the soft flesh, the tanned skin and the fullness of each boob.

It got worse when I "accidentally" found the photos of her. Her friend, lover I thought, Colin, who unbeknown to me was a professional photographer, had sent her some photos of me. He had found them in an online portfolio of a studio for which I occasionally posed for glamour and nude shoots. 

I had, of course, like any self-respecting natural liar denied it.

"Not me mum", I had said when she broached the topic one evening when we had both had a little too much to drink.

"I do know my own daughter when I see her you know," she had said lightly adding. "Go and have a look, they are on the PC." 

I went to the study and logged on to the PC I shared with her. I opened up the folder she had told me was in "my photos". Fortunately, being in the portfolio, they were very tame but nevertheless, I thought, quite erotic shots of me. There were four. One with me in a bikini, one with me in bra and panties another with the bra off and my fingers about to push the panties down and the fourth was me nude. 

They were undeniably me. There was no way I could lie my way out so I had to find something or somebody else to blame for the fact that I had become a part-time glamour model posing, at that time, for amateur photographic clubs around London. As I pondered who or what that should be, I was messing around with the PC when I saw a folder named "Colin." Nosy as I am I naturally opened it. As some say, I was absolutely gobsmacked. They were photos of her. Photos the like of which most daughters would never see of their mother. They were hugely erotic, beautifully posed, well lit and awesomely photographed. They were so much better than the ones of me that the photographers sometimes sent me. Still it did mean, I felt, that she couldn't be too mad at me. 

As it happens she was not mad at all, especially when I said I was doing it to earn money, as dad was being mean, she liked that bit.

I think it was from those photos that Colin had the idea about mum and me posing for him.

Chapter 2

The days seemed to drag by so slowly between that evening when I had agreed with both of them to pose for Colin and the date of the first session. Although it was only a week, it felt so much longer than that between saying yes we would pose together and going to his studio. The seven days from when he had explained his idea and putting that into practice felt like an eternity. Yes, the day when mum and I were going to pose for him to take shots of us both to enter in the Berlin Festival of Erotic Art seemed as if it would never arrive.

The day after we had agreed to do that I had an early class at college, had arranged to go shopping to top up my posing underwear collection and had a session booked for six that evening, which the studio owner had said "was a definite two hours with an option on a third."

Such long sessions were rare, but they were welcome for the posing fee alone would be over £200. That was without any extras and in my limited experience of one on one posing that was unlikely. When a guy is spending over £300, on my fee and the studio costs, and was going to be with me in various stages of undress at his direction for that length of time, a little extra something was almost always requested. After a few months of refusal, when I was getting my head round selling sex, if the request was from anyone reasonably fanciable, then the requests were not turned down nowadays.

I had now developed a short menu. A list that I could recite to the photographers when they asked, as about two thirds did, if there were any extras. I still retained some "dignity", though and had this little caveat that I had to, at least slightly, fancy them, but then as time had progressed my standards, I have to admit, had slipped and I guess probably seventy five percent passed that test. But then, could a girl who for a man had: been in various stages of undress, stripped naked, posed with spreaded legs, simulated masturbation and responded to the direction, "look as though you have just been fucked" not, to some extent, be entitled to fancy him? I usually ended up doing that for, quite frankly, many of the times I was probably as aroused as they were!

As he lay beside me on the bed, (yes they are part of the props in most studios, purely for posing purposes of course!), I told him that I did not do full sex.

"But oral is ok?"

"Yes fine."

"Both ways?"

"Yes, with a rubber."

"Fine. So how much do you charge?"

When I had first started offering extras, what seemed so long ago, but was only a couple of months, I had found this the most difficult part. In some ways, funnily, I found discussing the charges of wanking some guy, more difficult than actually doing it!

"So what do you want?" I asked as he cupped my naked breasts and nuzzled my neck.

He pulled me hard against him as he replied.

"How about we just play and see where it all leads?"

I was tempted, for that then takes the commercial side away and helps me, and him as well I guess, to make believe it's more a date than a financial arrangement. When I had first started I had done that a couple of times, but one guy had then refused to pay, "I thought you wanted me to play with you," and another claimed to only have twenty quid on him Yeah right dickheads I thought, putting them down to experience.

"No you tell me what you want to do, let's get the money out of the way, then we can play."

"OK. How much if I massage you, give you oral and you suck me?"

"How and where do you want to cum?" I asked. See what I mean about the messy commercial side?

"Anywhere?"

"OK in the rubber, anywhere, that lot will be a hundred."

"And out the rubber?"

"On me?"

"Yes."

"Where on me, my tits?"

"Yes," he said, his voice strained, his hardness seeming to grow against my leg; I had noticed before that with some guys this sort of talk was very arousing

"Yes Sammi," He grunted his hands and fingers doing nice things to my tits, "On these, right on your lovely tits."

"Ok call it a hundred and fifty and you can do what you like apart from fuck me." 

I can still hardly believe I could say such things, be so basic and matter of fact about such a sensitive topic as sex, but I could and did, quite often now.

His kiss and his grunted "yes" indicated the conclusion of our negotiations. With that out of the way, I am usually then able to shut everything else out and give myself over to him. I sort of go into a zone where it is just him, me and the bed we are on that represent my world. I can put aside normal morals and standards and forget that I am selling myself. It becomes just like a date. This sort of paid for sex is a compartment of my life that I open when needed, like now. When finished, though, I can shut the door to that and, almost, forget about it, until the next time. Convenient morality ay?

The sex is usually surprisingly good, but in such a different way to that I had with DD and the other, rather small number of, men that I had "given" it to in the past.

Grant was soon naked. They nearly always want that almost as much, I think, as they want to kiss me, well me to kiss them really. So I do both. I mean if I'm going to sell sex then I might as well give them as much as I can and get as much as I can, mightn't I? Enjoyment that is, of course.

He had a good body and was clearly quite an adept lover, so just why he was paying for it was a mystery to me; something, I have been told, about paying for it is not really cheating is it? Sounds like typical men's logic, so it could well be true.

He used my tits well with both his hands and mouth, manipulating my nipples and the fleshy orbs, sending lovely feelings through me. We were kissing as he did that and as his fingers ran round, along, across then in my pussy. He made me cum, twice in fact. 

Again, they seem to love that, which is just as well for I cum easily in such circumstances and rarely have to fake it, odd really that I cum so much easier when selling, than I do when giving! But then after all, when I girl has been flaunting her body at a camera, often being naked or dressed in outrageously sexy gear, striking "just fucked" and "fuck me now" poses and sometimes feigning or actually masturbating, its not likely to take much to make her cum is it? Well not me at least.

I was holding his cock. It was nicely hard and smooth, not that long but quite sturdy and would, I imagined, have filled me very nicely indeed, if my pussy had been today's target for it. But today it wasn't, for today my hand was my cunt for Grant. And boy was he fucking that! 

His fingers pumping in and out of me acting as a surrogate cock, his mouth, chewing licking and sucking my tits and nipples, his hips thrusting and pumping against my palm, my surrogate cunt for him, we hand fucked each other. We hand fucked to a glorious, humping, quite noisy and very messy mutual climax with his spunk filling my hand and streaming out all over my hips and stomach. So much for cumming on my tits, I thought.

Chapter 3

"He wants us to pose separately first," mum explained as we drove over to Colin's house, the top floor of which was his official studio. The rest of his house and the small, walled, totally secluded garden, he had explained, was his unofficial studio.

Most of his work was for ad agencies and big companies, that was his "bread and butter." 

"Glamour stuff, mainly for friends to surprise their partners is just a sideline, a bit of fun. I do, though, get a kick out of photographing lovely women," he explained, pointedly looking from mum to me then back again, before adding, "of all ages."

As he showed us round the studio that seemed stuffed full of lights, reflectors, umbrellas and other lighting and focusing props; much more so than the ones I was shot in I thought, he went on.

"It's the erotic competition stuff I most enjoy about glamour photography."

He opened a bottle of white wine and we sat down in his editing room. We were surrounded by loads of IT gear; PCs, plasma screens, MP3 players, speakers and other stuff I didn't recognise. He certainly had the goods and from what I had seen of the photos he took of mum, he knew how to use them. I felt quite good actually, being, for the first time, with a real pro photographer.

"Ok let's talk about the shoot; you know it's for an erotic art festival?"

"Yes Berlin," mum chipped in sounding as though we did it all the time moving from city to city.

"Right, it's probably the premier one in Europe other than Cannes and it caters for practically every art, literature, painting, sculpture, film and of course still photography. Even if you come tenth the prize is worthwhile, something like five thousand Euros."

"What's first?" mum asked, obviously interested, as the money from dad, who was still separated from her, was not as forthcoming as had always been the case.

"Fifty thousand, but that's not all, for you're then guaranteed quite a lot of publication and other personal appearances."

"When you say, "you are" who do you mean?" She asked.

"All of us, we would all be in demand on the Euro arts circuit."

"And the money?" I couldn't resist asking. "How does that get split?"

Colin smiled. "Equally, we split everything three ways after paying traveling and other expenses, Fair?"

"Eminently," I replied, feeling quite excited.

"Right, let me tell you about my vision for the shoot."

Mum and were I sitting side by side on a small sofa, the outsides of our legs touching. We listened as Colin, who was sitting in a swivel chair at the desk explained.

He told us the title of his entry would be Mother and Child Reunion, he never explained why it was called reunion and I didn't ask in fear of looking stupid. All the shots would be nude and many would be in close up, he explained.

"You see," he continued, "all of the shots will be in black, white and grey tones with pink being the only colour in any of the shots." He paused for a moment as he sipped his wine, looked from mum to me, and back again, before adding. "So the parts of you both that will be in the greatest focus will be your pink bits."

That actually made me feel awkward in front of my mum and I wondered just how the shots would be arranged. 

"Some will be individual poses and some will be both of you together, look I have mocked some up with computer graphics."

He clicked his mouse a few times and the mid-sized plasma was filled with a pair of breasts with the nipples obviously aroused and hard. It was only when you looked really close that you realised they were not a pair belonging to the same person. He put more images up. Nipples touching, mouths kissing, lips round nipples, tongues licking the tips of nipples and then of course, pussy lips!

There were shots of them from all different angles, some with hairs around them, some without. Some from the front of just a pubis mound with the blackness of the pubic hairs bisected by the slash of pinkness of the model's lips and some from behind with the model bent over her pink, full, seemingly bloated lips in stark contrast to the whiteness of the back of her legs and her bottom.

He explained that he had cribbed these shots from photos on the net and those he had taken before, usually cropping the shots to produce what he was showing us and what he wanted to take of us. 

"I'll show the shots in a certain order so that not until the end will there be any that show either of you fully, well not of those places, your pink bits," he smiled topping up our glasses. "The mystery that we will put to the audience will be for them to work out which pink places have the freshness of youth, the daughter and which have the perfection of maturity, the mother?"

I didn't get it myself, but mum seemed impressed, although to be fair I think it was the idea of all those Euros, the chance of being published and of appearing on continental cable chat shows that had greater appeal than the puzzle over whose pussy lips we were looking at.

Colin went on to explain that he had to submit twenty shots to the judging panel. To get that number of the quality he required he would expect to have to take probably a thousand or so and that would require numerous sessions, some together and some individually.

"Bloody hell," I couldn't help blurting out, "that will take for ever."




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 16



He laughed. No it won't, but to save time, why don't we get going now?"

Chapter 4

It seemed so incongruous to me when I thought about it, as I did quite a bit. Sex seemed to be becoming a central part of my life. Almost, you could say, the driving force. It appeared to be everywhere I looked, everywhere I went and part of everything I did. Yet really, I did not have a particularly strong sex drive. I mean, I rarely felt a need to get laid and even less frequently the need to go looking for it. I could go weeks without sex of any sort and, unlike some close friends, characters in books and what I read in magazines, I did not have the urge to wank myself most nights. At most I masturbated weekly, although, since moving back home and having this thing about my mum and her tits, I suppose I was doing it with increasing frequency.

Suddenly, though, it was all changing.

I was in one of those periods with DD, my longer term, older, married of course, lover, when we were pretty active. He and the titless bitch, his flat-chested, scrawny high-flying civil servant wife, were going through one of their really bad times. That was a differentiation from normal times, which were just bad. 

We were seeing each other more frequently than at any time since I had left uni and since he had transferred from Bristol, where I had studied and had met him as a lecturer, to London University.

He lived in Highgate. That was only ten minutes or so on the tube from where I was at college, so we were able to have lunchtime fucks at his home. His college was even closer, so that meant we could have breakfast, mid-morning teatime and early dinner fucks in his study, almost whenever we liked. And that was often. So I was getting plenty from DD and that was very nice.

On top of that, I was modelling. In fact, I was modelling like mad, averaging a session per day. That meant I was posing in my underwear, out of my underwear, touching myself and feigning, well not always actually feigning, cumming as the guys photographed me. 

Since I had started doing one to ones a while back and had taken the advice from Sandra, my sort of agent, and another couple of models I had met, to offer extras when asked, even more sex was coming my way. On average, it must have been about one session in three that led to me actually doing extras and these ranged from merely masturbating as he looked on, right up to the sort of sex I had with Grant. In between there was the man massaging me, me massaging him and both of us giving oral. But not yet full sex. I still held back on that even though some of the recent offers were starting to tempt me.

And then, of course, there was this crazy thing with my mother and her breasts. More and more I wanted her, I wanted them, I wanted them in my hands, in my mouth, against my back and pressed to my stomach and pubis. I wanted to crush mine against hers watching my small orbs vanish into the delicious lusciousness of her big, soft tits. Yes, the more time I spent in my mother's company the more I wanted to commit the unthinkable, the ultimate taboo, the final test of sexuality; I wanted to indulge in lesbian incest with her.

Colin had explained that this first session would be collecting a load of basic shots. 

"Later I may splice some together, slightly change the colourings or maybe even take them all again. A lot of this sort of work is experimentation, trial and error I suppose until the shots give me just what I am looking for."

"And what's that?" Mum asked.

"Ah Amanda, that's the mystique of art, of creating something new." He replied focusing the camera right on my nipple.

"What is?" She pressed on.

"That you only know what it is when you see it," he said, all a little bit bullshitty I thought, but then that's artists for you I suppose.

Chapter 5

It felt a little strange being naked in front of my mother. 

It was ok being nude with Colin, for I could imagine him as being one of the many photographers that had shot me like that. But being photographed naked with your mother watching, having the camera collect a sequence of shots of my nipples, having Colin rub ice on them to make them pucker up and look aroused, to pinch my own nipples with my pink painted fingernails and to pull on them to make them even bigger as she watched was strange. Partly embarrassing, partly arousing, I felt curious as to what she would be thinking and full of anticipation to see her do the same.

If it was strange being naked in front of my mum, it was even more so seeing her naked in front of me. I sat behind Colin in the robe I had brought with me as he took a similar range of shots of her, concentrating on her nipples and breasts. Watching her teasing her nipples erect, seeing her pulling on them and looking on as she lifted her breast up so that her tongue almost licked the erect nipple was as exciting a scene as I had ever been privy to. Exciting, but also so excruciating, being unable to do anything but look on.

It turned out to be a very long session, far more so than any I had ever been involved with, but this was "proper" modelling I kept telling myself. It may have been proper in some ways, but not in my feelings. The longer it went on the more aroused I became. 

After about three hours, when he had taken endless shots of mum's and my boobs and nipples and quite a few of our mouths lips and tongues, Colin called up for take away Chinese. It was again an oddly exciting experience to be sitting across from my mother; both of us dressed just in robes, our boobs often on show our naked legs snaking out from beneath the hems of the silk robes as we ate spring rolls and sweet and sour pork.

"You just stand there with your hands by your side Sammi."

"Ok, like this?"

"Yes but there's no need to push your tits out, just stand normally."

I relaxed and simply did as he asked trying hard to pretend I knew what I was doing and that I was like a real model, as opposed to being one that usually just flashed her bits and occasionally wanked in front of cameras.

"Right Amanda, you stand a couple of feet to one side looking straight into Sam's eyes."

"That's great, perfect," he muttered snapping away. "Now Amanda, you hold your left boob, lift it up a tad and move it towards Sammi. Oh fuck you've gone soft, I'll get the ice."

I looked down at my mother's breast that she was pushing towards me and saw amazingly, that as her nipple got nearer and nearer to mine, it started, to harden. I was fascinated by this. Did it mean she was feeling the same things as me? Did she want sex with me? Was I arousing her? 

It also seemed to have an effect on Colin who was watching this through the viewfinder of his camera. I heard a sharp intake of breath and then him saying.

"Mmmmm, oh yes, fantastic shot, no need for the ice after all." 

The mere closeness of her nipples and breasts to mine did so much to me. My own nipples felt such a rush of heat and tingling. It sent shock waves of sensation straight to my pussy in general and my clit in particular. My breasts felt so full, my stomach had a surge of convulsive like shudders and my body shook. I couldn't stop myself. I did try but a low, deep moan escaped from my mouth. Both of them must have realised it was purely and totally sexual. Fortunately, I think, neither said anything and somehow the shoot continued. 

Colin wanted lots of "pink" nipples only shots. We must have spent an hour holding our breasts up towards the other, pulling and pinching our nipples watching each other doing that. It was wonderful, yet so hard to take. All the time I was, metaphorically at least, gritting my teeth and keeping my legs tightly crossed to stop the feelings welling up more and more in me. As he took these shots, I couldn't stop my mind thinking about what was scheduled for the next series and the ones after that.

When Colin and mum were not looking, I had sneaked a look at us his shooting schedule on his PC. I knew that the next pink shots were titled "Mouths and Nipples," followed by "Single Pussies," then "Double Pussies." 

As mum and I manipulated our tits and nipples, my mind kept thinking of what it was going to be like when it was her mouth on them or when mine circled her bloated nipples. The mere thought sent shudders through me and I had to stop my mind going there. I knew if I let that continue then I would soon be thinking of what might happen in the pussy shots, especially the last series I had seen on his PC. That was called "Tongues and Pussies!"

Although he took loads of shots of both mum's and my lips, tongues and mouths, individually, he didn't go for any of us kissing or doing anything overtly sexual and the session ended around ten. I was amazed when I realised we had been posing for nearly eight hours, but I was totally zonked.

Chapter 6

We had a couple of weeks off before the next session, Colin told us, for he had a project in Dublin. It was just as well for me as my schedule was becoming manic.

I hardly saw mum, for the few evenings I was in she was out and I was not at home at all during the days. We were coming up for half term exams at college, which meant a lot, well not actually a lot, just the least I thought I could get away with, of studying, I was as fully booked with my modelling as I reasonably could be, basically a session every other day and DD was rampant.

Again, as I waited to resume the posing with mum for Colin, my heart pounding every time I thought about it, I wondered just what might happen when I was sucking her nipples, she was licking mine or either or both of us were performing oral on the other. I had to banish such thoughts from my mind, for my masturbation frequency was becoming frantic.

That was added to by the photo sessions, for now nearly all were with extras; word was clearly getting round, or the studio owners were telling their clients, which models did and which ones did not! I was still managing to resist not selling myself completely, but during those two weeks I gave two blow, jobs as the guys fingered me to nice climaxes, had my face, once and tits twice covered with the men's' cum and let one guy lick me to the most scrumptious orgasm with him merely wanking himself onto my stomach.

I had a few lovely bonks with DD, particularly one laid out on my back on the desk in his study and one in the back of his car on Hampstead Heath. 

All in all, as I waited for my next "mum experience" with Colin I was, unusually for me, sexually very active. Now, the really odd thing I found about that was quite the opposite of what I thought. I had imagined that when you were getting plenty, your appetite would have been satisfied and then you would want less. That's not the case, though is it? It seems with sex that, almost, the more you get the more you want, well, at least for me that was the case during that period. 

The day before we were due to pose for Colin again I had sex twice with DD, during the day, and then with a photographer in the evening. 

"Fuck me," I thought, as I got ready for bed, my body tingling with sexual expectancy about being naked with my mother the next day, "I'll be doing it all the time soon."

I slept well that night.

Chapter 7

In the end, it took me twenty hours of posing. Three sessions with mum and two by myself spread over a four-week period. On top of that, there were the sessions she and Colin had. I have no idea how long they lasted, but I imagine quite some time, for I was pretty sure they included them bonking. The more time I spent with them the more I became convinced they were having an affair. But then I had thought that the first time I saw the photos he had taken of her. Unless she really was a fantastically clever model, she was not putting on the "I want to be fucked" and "I have just been fucked looks" I saw in those first naked pictures, for my, now experienced eye, told me they were natural.

I never knew when he finished the shooting, for he didn't announce it, he just ended. He must have been working on the editing, mixing, cutting and pasting as we went along. It wasn't until mum and I turned up one early evening thinking we were to do another session together and he said, "I think we are finished," that I realised the posing was over

"I've got them in several forms," he explained. "On PC, of course, A4 proofs, in a book and on mega blow ups. I'll show all of them to you."

He explained that they had to be presented in each of those forms and that the portfolio was limited to twenty shots.

"Let's go into the lounge and I'll show them on the plasma, we can relax, have a drink then go over them one by one, ok?"

We followed him into the elegant first floor room, which ran the full depth of the house and was about twenty- five or thirty feet long and sixteen or so wide. Probably in its original form it was two, or maybe even three rooms, but these had been remodeled into this one large area that was more in keeping with life in the twenty first as opposed to the early nineteenth century, when the house had been built.

"Here's what I consider are my tremendous twenty of the most fantastic mum and daughter pairing I have ever come across," Colin announced clicking his mouse.

The massive plasma screen was filled with thumbnails of the shots he had chosen of both of us. I have to admit that I was totally blown away by what I saw.

The shots had a misty look to them, just as though they had been taken in a smoke filled room. It created a dreamy, romantic and very, very cool atmosphere. Everything was in varying shades of grey and white, except for what Colin had called the pink bits. They stood out in stark contrast to everything else, so the overriding, initial vision that leaped out from the shots were the nipples, lips, tongues and pussy lips. Unlike the photos I posed for, there was nothing at all smutty or sexually provocative about the portfolio, although we were both completely naked in every one, apart from sometimes wearing shoes. They really were pure erotica and they showed me, for the first time, the real meaning of the word erotic.

Although the screen was big, being filled with all the photos meant each was quite small. Mum and I were sitting on a sofa some twelve or fifteen feet away and together we both went to stand up to get a closer look.

"No, no, stay right where you are," he said, clicking his mouse, "we're going to look at each one very closely and in some depth. I really want to know what both of you think."

Colin then proceeded to go slowly through each shot. 

What we saw, though, with the enlarged exposures was that each pose was about life size and was been printed onto some form of material. The white material was fitted into a pink, wooden frame. Each print on the material was hanging down and was fastened at the top and bottom. The frames were about six feet high by four wide and were mounted onto stands that looked as though they swivelled so that the frames and thus the photos could be moved to a range of angles.

Mum asked him. "What's with the frames Colin?"

"It's really just another way of displaying the work. I'll show you them later, but let's look at the shots now, shall we?"

This is what we saw.

Shot 1.

We were both in this, full length. It was taken from behind me, with mum standing a couple of paces further away. Her face was turned towards me and her gaze was directed towards my breasts and lower body. My left shoulder was hiding the left side of her so the only colour was her right nipple, which was swollen and puckered, and her mouth. That was slightly parted and her tongue was licking her top lip.

Shot 2.

Almost a reverse of one, but with me facing the camera. Mum had her legs open, fairly wide and that pulled the cheeks of her bottom apart so that there was just the slightest glimpse of her puckered bum hole. Our faces were turned a little and our gazes were down each other's body. Our left hands were extended towards each other, the ten, scarlet painted fingernails seeming to leap from the photo. Both of my breasts were on view with the pinkness of my stunningly erect nipples most prominent.

Shot 3.

This was a tight close up of me. It was from the tip of my nose to just under my nipples, the pinkness of my closed mouth and quite heavily painted lips standing out vividly. Interestingly one nipple was stunningly hard the other undisturbed.

Shot 4

Close up of mum's nipples, both hard, with my finger nails resting on the fullness of her breast just millimeters from her aureole

Shot 5

Side views of our faces with us staring into each others eyes, our vividly pink lips parted our slightly darker pink tongues poking out a little as if stretching towards each other.

Shot 6

Mum looking down at where she was holding her breast; lifting it a little, her fingertips sinking into the boob, the dark pinkness of her nails just visible in the soft flesh. The nipple was soft.

Shot 7

Both of mum's breasts and hands in a similar pose to # 6. This time, though, her nipples are strainingly hard and my slightly parted lips are close to her right tit.

Shot 8

A shot of mum from her lower lip to the underside of her breasts. My opened lips are almost taking her swollen nipple between them and the deep pink of my fingernails are pressing against her other breast.

Shot 9

Just our breasts from a side view, nothing else. Mum's full, heavy tit sagging slightly, my smaller, firmer breast standing pert. Both nipples are puckered and look as hard as bullets, just a fraction of an inch apart.

Shot 10

Both of my tits and both of my hard nipples in a front on view. I'm holding my right breast, my scarlet painted nails digging into the soft flesh, my opened fingers either side of my nipple, which is poking out between them. Mum's opened mouth with her tongue out; slightly bent downwards is stretching towards my other hard nipple that seems as if it is inviting her mouth to engulf it. 

Shot 11

Me lying on my front on a white floor. My legs are slightly parted and between them can be seen a few fluffs of pubic hair and, of course, the pink, puffy lips of my pussy from behind. The angle of the shot seems to emphasis the round, fullness of the cheeks of my bum and the depth of the "cleavage" between them. Mum's face is resting on my left cheek. Her lips are open, her tongue is out. It seems to be stretching towards the crease. Her other hand is resting on my right cheek, her red nails resting on the down-slope of the crevice between the mounds. It looks every bit as if she is about to pull my cheeks apart and plunge her tongue into my bum crease. Mmmmmmmmm.

Shot 12

Mum lying on the floor on her back, her legs wide open, her hands are holding her breasts. Her body has a very pale, almost translucent look to it. This makes the bush of black pubic hair, the parallel slash of pinks lips beneath that, the puckered mounds of her heavily erect nipples, the scarlet painted nails and the fully made up lips all the more obvious. My hand is resting on the inside of her parted thighs, just inches from her gaping pussy, towards which my fingernails are pointed. My face appears to be resting on her hipbone, although all that can be seen of me are my downcast eyelids, which had been made up with thick black mascara, and my lips and tongue the tip of which is sticking.

Shot 13

Me leaning back against a white wall. I have my head tilted to one side, my left, so that my hair falls down over my shoulder onto my arm and boob. My knees are drawn up, my arms are round them and my chin is resting on wrists. My ankles are apart, quite a long way. I am staring intently at the camera my mouth is wide open giving a very aroused look to my face. The reddy, pink of my lips, tongue and the rest of my mouth are the features that first hit the viewer. Those, though, are quickly followed by the second features, when the viewer's gaze drops a little, for between my opened ankles my pussy lips are totally exposed. They are glistening and are clearly wet and probably swollen. Mum is kneeling beside me, holding her breast. All that is shown of her are her hands, arm and breast. It is as if she was offering it to me.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 16



Shot 14

Both of us side on. We have our legs stretched out before us, our feet nearly touching, our scarlet painted toenails pointing towards the other. We are both supporting ourselves by our straightened arms behind us. Our legs are wide open, but the camera angle is such that only a few strands at the tops of our pubic triangles can be seen between them. Our nipples are obviously erect on the tips of our breasts, which due to our slightly slouching poses are sagging a little, mum's larger, fuller orbs, more so than mine. Our mouths are open, a little, the scarlet glossed lips being one of the strong features of the shot. The others are our eyes. They are cast down, our gazes very clearly boring between the others legs focusing on that place the camera cannot see.

Shot 15

A close up of my pussy and mum's lips and tongue. Just those nothing else. I am clearly very wet. Her lips are parted, her tongue is out. It is so near to my lips. 

Shot 16

A nipple, an opened mouth, teeth and lips, that's all. The puckered nipple that we know is mine, but other viewers probably wouldn't, is between the lips, in the mouth and between the teeth. They are clearly just about to close round it and the mouth of the mother is clearly about to suck the nipple of the child.

Shot 17

Both of us kneeling, facing away from the camera, our hips almost touching, our heads resting on our arms that are flat on the floor. Our thighs are tightly closed. Both sets of puffy, pussy lips dominate the shot. Everything other than those four lips and the two puckered anuses is white. The pink and brown of them seems to leap from the photo.

Shot 18

Simply a tongue on a nipple, a fingernail on the folds surrounding a clit. Mum's or mine? It's impossible to tell.

Shot 19.

A collage. The first was of bpth of us from behind from the waist up. We are looking at each other, our arms stretched out as if we were holding hands. The next was

side on, from the waist up mum's hands resting on my shoulders, mine on her hips. Then one of both of us kneeling, gazing into each other's eyes. The final was of me lying on my back, mum hovering over me, looking as if she has eased me to the ground.

It was not until we had looked at them all and until Colin had run through them again, that mum and I realised that none of the nineteen shots were of us together. Sure they looked as though they were, but every one was a cut and paste job. When we asked Colin about that he smiled and told us that was the special effect he had been searching for.

"That's the art," he explained it as. "The special effect. The judges will know but nobody else will, apart from us."

All mum and I could say was. "Oh really?

Chapter 8.

"Well ladies, what do you think?" Colin asked us.

We both said how amazing we thought they were.

"Are you pleased with them?" Mum asked.

"Yes very. Very pleased actually."

"How is this frame and material sort of thing supposed to work?" I asked.

"I've got them set up in the basement, I'll show you."

"Ok great."

"Oh just one thing."

"What's that?" Mum asked.

"There's just a little more work we need to do, so could I, in the nicest possible way," Colin said smiling and looking from mum to me and back again, "persuade you both out of your clothes."

It was odd stripping off in his lounge so close to each other. Odd and exciting for me, for the other times we had modeled together we had undressed separately. This time I watched her every move. Undoing her top, sliding the zip of her trousers down, removing them and unclipping her bra and taking that and then her panties off.

"Come on Sammi," she said, "don't go shy on us now."

"Oh right sorry," I stammered realising I had only undone a few buttons on my shirt. I literally was shaking with excitement and arousal as I stripped naked with her looking at me. Mum's demeanour was now more serious, almost as if the situation was getting to her as it was to me. Both naked we looked at each other. I was sure something was going to happen, but then Colin called out from downstairs.

"Come on you two, I'm ready."

I followed her down the fairly narrow staircase to the hallway just inside the front door. The black and white tiles were very cold under my bare feet

"Everything's in the basement, laid out," he explained. "This way."

The basement was huge. It was the size of the house and was one large room. It was warm and well lit and had quite a nice feel to it. One half of the room was taken up by the pink frames with the strips of silk containing the photo entries for the festival on them. They were lined up one behind the other in a circle that gradually got smaller, like a corkscrew, so we could only see the outside four or five. Each frame had the shot number in pink numeral on the top right hand corners.

Mum and I stood there naked looking at my bare back and her exposed front in shot 1. As I stared at it, I saw that it, indeed was material, probably silk, but was in three pieces each of which were fastened at the top.

"Ok the idea is that people, the judges mainly, can actually walk through the photos one by one moving nearer and nearer to the centre, for as you can see they are arranged like that. So come on follow me."

It really was an amazing experience to walk slowly towards a life size, nude photo of my mother and me, to then step through it only to then be confronted by another and then another. The naked images, the moving silk and the wooden frames surrounded us. We walked side by side through shots 4 to 10.

"Well what do you think?" Colin called from outside the reducing circle.

"It's amazing, I've never seen anything like it," mum replied stumbling a bit, as she caught her foot on the bottom of the frame. 

"Bollocks," she said loudly her breasts jiggling wonderfully as she stumbled. I managed to catch her and held her on her shoulders. "Nothing, I just stubbed my toe," she called out as we stood staring at each other, our breasts almost touching. 

"Thanks Sammi," she whispered, not moving at all.

"That's ok mum," I replied equally softly, staying exactly where I was looking into her eyes.

The atmosphere was laden with expectancy, well certainly on my part, as I looked down and saw that both hers and my nipples were hardening. Her hands had moved and were resting on the swell of my naked hips. They seemed to be half pressing into me and half caressing me. Her skin on her shoulders under my fingers was smooth and silky, but seemed so hot. I moved my fingers a little and I imagined she did as well.

"We should get on," she whispered, moving a little so that our breasts did touch, just lightly. On purpose, I wondered.

"Yes," I smiled, "I suppose we should."

We walked through the remaining frames quite quickly. We were holding hands most of the time, helping each other; I was in a daze at the sheer eroticness of all that was happening.

We stepped through the collage that was indicated as Shot 19. Colin was waiting for us in the middle of the corkscrew. That was a circle about fifteen feet in diameter, the floor of which was covered in the same white fabric as the nineteen photos. Lying on that was another pink frame with the number twenty on it..

"Number twenty's on the floor," mum said, rather unecessarilly, for it was so obvious.

"Absolutely right Amanda," Colin replied smiling andstanding very close to both of us. He could not fail to have noticed our puckered, hardened nipples, but then he must have been used to it.

"So that's why we're undressed is it? You're going to shoot that are you?" I asked.

He smiled. "Well yes and no."

"What do you mean?" mum asked.

"Yes that's why I asked you to undress, but no, I am not going to photograph you."

"Oh. I don't get it, do you Sam?" Mum asked looking at me a perplexed impression on her face.

"No," I stammered, still feeling awfully shaken up from the earlier episode.

"Let me explain."

"I think you'd better," Mum said quite firmly.

"Well in essence, Amanda, Sammi," Colin said looking us both in the eyes in turn. "You are Shot 20."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"The final pose, ladies is real life. It's you two. It's Mother and Child. It's the pair of you making love as the judges watch you."



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 17



Hi

Ok then, here it is. For those that have been following my blossoming lust for my mother, this is what you have been waiting for. Well at least a lot of you have told me in the comments and e-mails I have received, that you have been eagerly awaiting this. At last I am writing about it, telling you all about it, pouring my heart out about how I sucked my mother's tits. 

If you have read the previous parts, you will know the score, so you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action. If you haven't read them, I would strongly suggest you do. You see the accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. In most parts, and particularly in this one where my mother features strongly, I refer back to what has happened in previous parts, so they should be read in the sequence I wrote them.

Nevertheless, whatever way you do read them, I hope you enjoy them and get as much pleasure and excitement from reading them as I do from writing them.

Please feel free to leave whatever comments you wish or e-mail me if you prefer.





Chapter 1

I had thought about it so much over the past few months. It was something that had begun to consume my mind. It had become an obsession, a desire, a fantasy, a want and a need. And now I was about to satisfy that need. Yes I was about to suck my mother's luscious, big tits!

Colin, my mum's "friend", had taken the photos for the Berlin Erotic Arts Festival. The portfolio of nineteen shots was entitled, rather naffly I thought, Mother and Child Reunion. It was made up of shots of mum and me naked. He had explained that the final pose was not a photo. Instead, at the festival, she and I would pose in real life. Real life, naked and making love. When he had shown us the nineteen photos and had explained about the twentieth my entire mind and body froze. "Had he read my mind?" I wondered. How I contained myself after he had shown us the photos and had explained what he wanted, I just don't know?

He had printed the exposures onto strips white material that were about six feet high. It was amazing to look at pictures of my lips and pussy or of mum's nipples and breasts in such huge sizes. He had cut each image into three vertical strips and these he had hung on pink, wooden frames. The frames were arranged in a decreasing circle, like a corkscrew. The judges would walk up to each shot and then step through them moving towards the centre of the circle. Colin explained that when they had stepped through the nineteenth shot they would be in the middle of a circle. They would be surrounded by the other frames with the space in the middle completely secluded with one pink frame lying on the floor. It was there that mum and I would be posing.

We were at his studio, a large Victorian house in north London. He had converted the basement into a display room for his work and it was down there where he had laid out the frames.

"They will be spaced out more at the festival, but this will give you both a general idea," he explained.

Mum and I were in silk dressing gowns we had brought with us. These old Victorian piles can be very chilly and we had both had several sessions at the studio so, for what we had thought would be the final photographic work, we had arrived well prepared for sitting around feeling chilly.

Colin had asked us to undress just as if it was going to be another shooting session.

"When you are ready ladies, I'll be in the cellar, not the studio, so just come on down, Ok?

He met us at the foot of the cellar stairs and "walked" us through the photos. To say we were amazed is a massive understatement. Each shot had parts of mum or me in them, mostly the two of us together but a few just her and some just me. There were two features to the exhibition; mother and daughter and the colour pink, and one style, our nudity. Hence, it was our "pink bits", lips, tongue, nipples and of course our pussy lips, that were the focus.

As we walked through the photos I seemed to be surrounded by my mother. Not only was she beside me, her silk robe slipping at times exposing her boobs and legs, but everywhere I looked in the photos she was there. Her lips and my nipples, her pink painted fingernails and my pussy lips, my tongue and her breasts and of course my mouth and her pussy. The most incredible aspect to the portfolio of shots was that we had not posed together for any of them. Every shot had been taken of us alone and Colin had, as he put it, cut and pasted them together.

"It will be the ultimate in erotica, lesbian incest," he'd told us when he explained that the only time we would really be together would be in pose twenty, lying on the silk sheet on the floor in a variety of poses in the middle of the other photos.

"The judges will go apeshit for it," he had forecast.

Chapter 2

The term had hit me hard when he had first said it; lesbian incest. 

At home that night, I couldn't help smiling wryly as I undressed for bed in the room just across the landing from my mother's bedroom. 

"So in addition to nude glamour model and near hooker I can also be termed a lesbian and an "incestor", I thought, making up that word wondering what the correct term is for someone who indulges in incest.

I knew I wasn't really a lesbian, well I thought I wasn't, but you never know do you? Equally I didn't think I was a typical "incestor", certainly not in the more popular way of father daughter, but then my yearning for sex with my mother was so strong, I had to wonder.

I often did look back and ponder on how I developed my attitudes towards sex.

I didn't have a huge appetite or a strong sex drive. I could go weeks without any sexual encounters at all. And during such "dry" periods I rarely felt the urge to masturbate. I did, of course, occasionally have sex with myself and I had to admit, that when I did, it was more often a girl that featured in my wankfest than men. 

Although to my thinking I was not a lesbian I readily admit to myself that I am bi. Always have been I think, when I look back. But then what's bi and aren't most of us if we are really honest with ourselves? And I include men in that sweeping statement, but accept that it's more a girly thing. After all, we are lovelier aren't we? We are prettier, softer, more gentle, have a better shape and really are all round more adept at sex. 

Many of my friends that I have known from school and uni and who I have met at Stage College have indulged, played around or have dallied with other girls. It's hard, impossible probably, to go to a club and not see at least two girls snogging or groping each other and more dancing together in the most provocative of ways.

I started as I was leaving school, accelerated doing my time at uni, took a break when I left and have taken it up more fully now I'm studying stage and film production and am working as photographic model.

My first real experience was with the school sports teacher. Although she was only a few of years older than me, she seemed so much more grown up, mature and worldly wise. She was also beautiful with long dark hair, a gorgeously slim figure and wonderfully long, lithe legs that, as my grandma would have said, "went right up to her bum." And that was also something special. I had never really ogled a girl before. But when I saw Chrissy in a swimsuit for the first time and looked at how the thin material of her bathing suit clung to the two perfectly shaped cheeks of her pert bum, I almost swooned with sexual emotion. 

That started my crush on her. At first it was all rather innocent with my thoughts more concerned with being friends with this beautiful and popular star of the all girls private school. That changed though and soon as my juvenile thoughts turned towards sex. I couldn't count the number of times I imagined myself lying naked in Chrissy's arms.

She was friendly towards us younger girls and I started to have quite a lot to do with her in the summer term when I was eighteen and was leaving in the July. I was a fairly good player and had to play against her in the staff pupils tennis match. I beat her 4 and 3, I remember. The kiss she planted on my cheek and the gentle touch of her hand on my hip, quite near my bottom, as we came off the court, were like magic. I was sure she was feeling the same, but she never admitted that and nothing more happened between us.

Stephanie Gordon was my first female lover, my initial bi experience and my first lesbian fuck. She was also my second third and countless other lesbian fucks. I had an affair with her at uni that lasted several months, but finished when I left mid way through my second year. We still meet from time to time and sometimes have sex, not always, for in addition to being lovers we are also great mates and sex between mates can be messy; it can, of course, also be great as it usually was and is between Steph and me.

Since uni I have been with several women, four to be precise. And now standing looking at the nude photos with Colin explaining what he wanted us to do, I realised that my mother was going to be the fifth!

Chapter 3

Colin explained that at the festival the first day would be the judging and that we would need to pose for about an hour. The next day would be a public day and we would need to pose for 10 minutes or so each hour.

"I want you to be in each other's arms all the time. Mainly I want your mouth, Sammi, near Amanda's nipples. The implication has to be of a mother about to suckle her child, only the child is also a woman and the pair of them are lovers."

"Bloody hell," mum breathed, looking at me. "Are you ok with that Samantha?"

Looking right at her I replied. "Yes mum, if you are."

She smiled back, a little nervously I thought wondering if she had any lesbian feelings towards me at all. Do mothers have such thoughts about their daughters? Mothers and sons yes, but daughters, I'd never heard of it?

"Well, all in the cause of art," she said brightly adding. "And the winnings of course."

"Ok then lets just try a few poses," Colin suggested. "We won't be too prescriptive for I think a degree of improvisation and spontaneity will impress the judges."

Knowing that soon I would be touching her ripe body and luscious tits I shuddered with desire as mum followed Colin's instruction.

"Ok ladies, robes off please."

During the photo sessions we had done together I had now seen my mother naked several times. I was surrounded by pictures of her; of her body, her breasts, her nipples and her pussy. I had seen her swim topless and I had been in bed with her when she was wearing just a sleeping top, unbuttoned to the waist. So, I had seen all she has, every bit, every curve, mound and indentation many times. But I was not prepared for the surge of desire that hit me when she casually untied the belt and slipped the dressing gown off.

Her long chestnut hair was tumbling onto her broad shoulders, her eyes seemed to be sparkling and her lips were parted. Her figure was a little heavier than mine, but then she is forty something and had given birth. There was a little extra on her hips and her thighs, like mine were a tad sturdier than either of us liked. Overall, though, she had a body that any woman would be proud of and many would kill for. She was curvaceous. Full hips, a narrow waist and, of course, her wondrous tits. They were full and rounded, as firm as could be expected and were capped by prominent nipples and large aureolae. They seemed almost to defy gravity for, despite their size, they looked firm and pert. Firm and pert, full and delicious and so fucking suckable I felt weak at the knees as I undid the tie on my robe. 

With my mother's and the photographer's eyes on me I slid the robe off and stood before them naked. Incongruously, considering he had taken close up shots of every part of me, I felt embarrassed when I saw Colin staring at my nudity.

Chapter 4

Being that I was about at least to make pretend love to my mother it was odd that my mind was on other things.

It was on when Steph first seduced me. It was in my brand new MINI that she first kissed me, that she first touched me, that she first cupped my breast and that she first slid her hand up my jean-covered thighs. It was in a hotel room she had booked because neither of us could be assured of the necessary privacy in our student flats that we first made love. It was there that she so wonderfully, so satisfyingly and so magically took my lesbian virginity. It was in my MINI and that hotel room that over the next few weeks she taught me so much.

For sure, since going to university, I had kissed, touched and been touched by a few girls. It was fashionable, brave, adventurous, it showed your independence and feminism and nearly everyone seemed to be "at it." And sure too I had been with a few guys, nothing heavy, nothing serious and certainly nothing lasting.

None though had given me the level of orgasm that Steph did. And she did that with her fingers at first but then on our second "date" incredibly with her tongue. The first time a female has another woman go down on her is so special. For me it was amazing. She made me cum and cum and cum and cum.

For a few months we were inseparable. We didn't "come out" or anything like that and I doubt if anyone in our university world knew or even suspected that after hours we were having an incredibly passionate lesbian love affair. It didn't matter. We didn't care, all we were really interested in was each other. In our ways, I suppose we were in love. But it was not a spiritual love, not an exclusive love for both of us went with other men, we even told each other about sex with them when we were in bed. It was a sexual love. An adoration of the other's body, a respect for what the other did to us and a desire to give everything we had.

During those crazy few months, I gave Stephanie Gordon my all. She took everything I had and gave back her entire sexual portfolio. If I had searched for the perfect teacher, looked for the ideal induction or scoured the net for the ultimate instructor, I could not have done better than her.

As I stared at my mother's voluptuous, yet slender body, my mind flittered onto my other lesbian encounters. 

The way that Sandra, the studio owner who had given me my first break in photographic modelling, had seduced me. The way she had used me and the way she introduced me to the rougher side of girl to girl sex. 

I recalled her photographing me to teach me how to pose and to then sitting next to her naked as she ran the photos through her PC. It was incredible to then see myself on a forty two inch plasma. To see the various shots that Sandra had taken, to watch her focus in on my breasts, my nipples and between my legs. To watch myself as she looked at my photos just as she had looked at me through her lens. To see her looking at my nakedness as I looked at it and as her hands started to investigate it. To see me taking up the poses that she directed as slowly my body gave into the hands that were roaming over it. And to then be in her bed, with her making the most energetic love to me that I had ever experienced. I just knew it would not be like that with my mum!

I took the hand that my mother extended to me. I held it and followed her as Colin led us to the very centre of where the framed photos were arranged.

As mum and I stood there facing each other our chests were pumping slightly, showing that we were both feeling the pressure and breathing more heavily than usual. There seemed to be, although there couldn't really be, a deafening silence in the cellar. The atmosphere was heavy, the mood, I felt, was laden with sexual expectations. I think that we were all anticipating what was soon to happen with a nervous expectancy. It was something that had been building up in a variety of ways for several weeks during the shooting, although for me it was more like six months. And now we were there, the time had arrived, the scene was set, the characters were there, the director was ready, mum and I were naked and we were about, at the very least to have simulated sex.

Colin's voice seemed tight and a little hoarse when he said, quietly.

"Can you both lie down please?"

As we sank to the floor I could feel myself shaking, my heart was pounding and my pulses were racing. I felt worried, aroused, excited, guilty, frustrated and so expectant.

"Lay on your back Amanda, keep your legs closed, put one ankle over the other," I heard Colin saying as if from miles away.

I watched mum lie down her full boobs slipping slightly to the sides as she lay on her back.

"OK Sammi now turn your face to the side and lay that half on Amanda's right boob and half in her cleavage.

"Oh God," I thought realising the moment was at last here.

The feel of the smooth skin and the soft flesh of her breast on my face was marvellous. She was cool and there was a slight throb, her heartbeat, I assumed. I drew my legs up so I was in almost a foetal position. My knees touched the outside of her thigh.

It sounded as if Colin was talking through one of those old fashioned megaphones, as if he was far away as if he was having difficulty speaking when he said.

"Bring your right hand up Sammi, hold her boob."

"The one with my head on?"

"No silly, the other one, cup that for me."

I'm sure mum's body jumped when I touched it. I know my heart started to pound wildly when I held her left boob. 

I had, of course, touched and caressed a woman's breasts before, many times in fact. It's always a wonderful feeling, even when they have been "surgically enhanced". Mum's hadn't, though, and they felt fabulous. I was, though, feeling unsure, a little shy, full guilt and trepidation. After all I had no idea at all what she was feeling and not once had she given any sign that she had any incestuous thoughts about me.

Colin got us to take up a few more poses, nothing extreme, but all highly suggestive. My fingers on her thighs, her face on my tummy, her breast on my bottom and my lips near her nipple and stuff like that, before he said.

"Ok let's leave it now, don't let's rehearse too much."

As we both stood up he went on.

"You've got the idea of what I think will work, but being women you both probably know better than me."

"Do we now?" mum said, running her hand up and down my arm sending shivers through me. She added. "With men perhaps."

Colin smiled. "Well that's not what you told me, oh shit, sorry Mands."

He looked very contrite when he stared at me, clearly realising he had broken a confidence. More than that, he was probably thinking, he had told a daughter that her mother had been with other women. Mum, as usual, took it in her stride.

"That was in a silly moment, Colin, you must have got it wrong, anyway we all know what the nineties were like, real decadence. Pay no attention to him Sam."

I tried to lighten the situation, but probably failed, for the wisecrack I was trying to make came out totally different to what I intended. Smiling I replied.

"Well I can see where I get it from then can't I?"

They both looked at me realising that I was admitting to being bi, although I hadn't meant that at all. Wisely, nothing more was said, either about my admission or mum and Colin's, probably, pillow talk.

"I want it to be spontaneous in front of the judges."

"Ok so we won't practice between now and Thursday then?" Mum said enquiringly, her hand I realised still on my arm.

Colin looked from her to me and back again several times before saying very thickly.

"No best not to unless I'm there to join in."

Mum smiled and looked at me. She raised her eyebrows and glanced back at Colin.

"Oooooo," she said quietly. Is that an invitation Colin, or a request."

He looked very embarrassed when he realised his gaff.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 17



"No, no, I didn't mean that, I meant to direct the poses."

"Oh dear, and we thought our luck had changed, didn't we luv?"

I didn't know how to take my mother's remarks, which were far more frank and open than any she had ever made in front of me before. What did it all mean, I wondered?

Chapter 5

We flew out to Berlin on a cheepo Easyjet flight, landing at some airport miles out in the country. By the time we checked in to the hotel it was past midnight and we were all totally knackered. So straight to bed. 

Next day mum and I did some sightseeing, Check-Point Charlie, the Brandenburg Gate and some remaining bits of the Berlin wall and that sort of stuff, boring really, although I had heard about most of the places in history lessons at school.

Colin was busy assembling and laying out the pink, six feet square frames and the dangling, walk through photos of the exhibition. so it wasn't until dinner that next evening that we saw him.

He looked very tired, but was absolutely full on about how great the display looked.

"We're going to wow them, I just know it," he said, forgetfully placing his hand on the back of mum's and giving that a squeeze.

"Let's hope so darling," mum replied being equally forgetful about her phrasing.

I have no idea whether they slept together or not, although I was tempted to ring Colin's room at about midnight. We had all gone up to bed around eleven. I had a vodka from the mini bar and logged into the pay for porn movies. 

I had never done that before, but then I couldn't remember staying in a hotel by myself that had the service. DD had once used it when we spent the night in a hotel, but the movie was just awful, far too basic, far too simplistic and far too graphic. I mean how much excitement is there in seeing a guy shag a girl in several different positions with just her deep moans and his urgent grunts as dialogue?

That was in England and now I was in Germany, in Berlin, the city that stages Europe's leading erotic art festival staying at the hotel where the festival was to take place. For Christ's sake, I'd thought, if you can't get decent porn here where the hell could you?

Anyway, what I'm getting round to is that I got myself worked up. The combination of seeing mum and Colin together in a relaxed manner, pretty much confirming they were lovers, the prospect of tomorrow, posing naked with my mother, the vodka and the bloody horny movie got to me. 

It really was a decadently luxurious scene. I was lying on this huge double bed. I was naked. I was sipping vodka with a touch of water and, sin of all sins, smoking in bed. I was watching two gloriously attractive women have tender and loving, yet enthusiastic and comprehensive sex with an older guy, just my scene, I smiled. 

I was additionally imagining that Colin would have sneaked to mum's room. That's when I was tempted to phone his room, but didn't. Instead, I thought of him, this guy, who had photographed both of us so much, fucking my mum. And as my fingers flittered over my bare tits and down my tingling body, so I imagined them asking me to join them. As I squeezed and stroked myself, and pinched and pulled my breasts and nipples and as I rubbed and caressed my clit, so I thought of Colin fucking me as I kissed my mother's breasts and she sucked mine. 

God did I cum hard in Berlin? And that was just the first time.

Chapter 6

Colin led us through the maze-like arrangement of the pink framed photos of mum and me. He had set them up in a screened off corner of the huge ballroom in the basement of the hotel where we staying, free of charge it turned out. It was a different format than before with the frames making a tighter circle. There was about six good paces between each frame and picture. 

Clad just in our robes, mum and I walked hand in hand through the photos of our most intimate places knowing that in just a few minutes time the four male and two female judges would be doing exactly the same. 

Her hand, or was it mine, felt clammy. My heart was certainly pounding and I felt hellishly nervous. 

More so than I can remember for any sexual event in my life. More than when I lost my virginity in the back of an Audi TT. More so than when dirty dicky, my first older man, seduced me and more than when he used to meet me from school, take me into the country in his black BMW and fuck me in my school uniform, often on the grass or on the bonnet of the sexy car. More so than when Steph and I fumbled with each other in my MINI and more than when I knocked on the door of the hotel room she booked the next day so we could explore each other totally. More than when I first posed naked, for fine art students and more than when I was in the uni play What the Butler Saw and had to appear on stage naked in front of an audience. More, much more actually than when I seduced DD and more even than when his wife caught us having sex on the stairs in their home.

I could see she was also nervous, for when we got to the middle of the frames and saw the one lying on the floor I could hear her breathing deeply as she croaked.

"Well here we go Sammi. You ok?" 

I smiled back to her as she squeezed my hand.

"Yes mum, let's do it," I replied hopefully sounding more confident that I felt.

"Ok ladies," Colin said, joining us in the middle of the exhibition. "Just be natural and do what comes naturally. "Remember the judges will have seen all the pictures and you will be the finale."

"Yeah right," I couldn't help almost snarling as once more my mother and I stripped naked together.

Seeing her breasts again so close to me and realising that once more I was going to touch and suck those as she did the same to me, I shivered, perceptibly I think. But now not with nerves, no, now it was lust.

We could hear Colin talking to the judges as he explained the theme to them and showed them the first shot. He had explained that he would walk them quite quickly through each frame, giving them just enough time to take in the images.

"From when they see the firs, to when they reach the middle should be about ten minutes," he had said adding. "So when we start walking through, you should begin."

Mum laid down. I stood there for just a moment looking down at the erotic figure of my naked mother on the floor. She patted the white silk beside her.

"Come on luv."

I lay down. She put her arm round me, I nestled against her chest, our legs became entwined. She cuddled me, she squeezed me and ran her hand up and down my back, almost to my bum. My face was resting on her breast. I lifted my hand up and cupped it. Everything so far was just as Colin had directed the previous week in his house.

As if from a very long way away I could hear Colin explaining each of the frames to the judges who said very little in reply. Was that good or bad I wondered? But only momentarily, for as my cheek slid across my mother's breasts, so my thoughts were diverted from Colin and the judges onto the lusciousness of her smooth skin and soft flesh. I think mum moved, I wasn't sure, but somehow her nipple seemed so much more available, so much more accessible to my mouth, so much easier to suck. I was holding her boob, squeezing it gently, bringing that and my mouth closer together. I closed my eyes, I felt her other hand touch my tummy, it was like an electric shock. But that was nothing compared to the sensation I got shortly after. It was minimal compared to the feelings I got when my lips encircled her nipple. It was so little in comparison to the enormous surge I got when I, at last, sucked my mothe's nipple. It was rock hard I noted as I drew it into my mouth.

We had now moved into uncharted territory. We had gone into areas where Colin had not directed us, situations where he hadn't briefed us on, what happened next. The boundaries had been moved and we were forging ahead not knowing what lie before us, what we were supposed to do and what we would do in front of the judges.

As I held her breast and sucked on her nipple I heard her gasp, audibly. One of her hands went round the back of head; it seemed to be pulling me nearer to her breast. Her other hand that had been innocently resting on my tummy, suddenly seemed to be caressing me just above my pubic line. 

I licked and sucked harder, now casting all caution, inhibitions, doubts and concerns aside. I forgot the terrible consequences that could happen if I was reading this wrong. I forgot the enormous taboo on what I was doing. I forgot she was my mother. I forgot about incense and I forgot about the judges who were rapidly approaching the 19th of the framed images.

I felt her hands on my breasts. She was squeezing them, cupping and stroking them. Yes, my mother was starting to make love to my tits. And it was gorgeous. I lifted my face up from her boob, but couldn't bring myself to let go of its smooth, full, soft, lusciousness. We looked at each other, we smiled. She pulled me closer so that we both were now lying on our sides facing each other. Our breasts were squashed together, her larger, darker nipples engulfing my smaller, pinker ones, our tummies were pressed together our pubic hairs merging into one mass of blonde and brown. The fronts of our thighs were touching, in fact our bodies were touching from our breasts to our toes. Touching everywhere except one place. All but one part of both bodies were in contact, yes, we had become one in every area, bar one. 

Our eyes were locked. There was real love as well as lust in her gaze. Her lips were parted a little and she was slightly grinning. She looked lovely. It flashed through my mind as to whether the enormity of what we were doing was occurring to her. It didn't seem to be and if it was, she was able to put it one side as I had. We stayed like that for what seemed an age as we heard the judging party and Colin getting nearer.

"You can see the clear arousal in this shot," I heard Colin saying.

"Yes it's very evident," a female voice with a strong, possibly French, accent replied.

We both smiled at that. Her hands ran down my back and held my bottom, I slid one of mine between us and found her breast. We both stroked and squeezed each other as slowly, very slowly we became one all over by making that one part that hadn't been in contact, merge with the other. 

Her lips tasted fantastic and they felt amazing. They squirmed and moved, opened and closed and rubbed on mine so appealingly as both of our tongues invaded the other's opened mouth. We kissed and kissed and kissed, grinding our lips together as eagerly as we writhed our body on the other. 

I lost all sense, all thought of what else was going on, I forgot the competition and the judges, as I think mum did as well. We were no longer two models in an arts festival, no longer a mother and daughter doing something a little risqué by posing naked, no longer two dispassionate females gingerly exploring their way on a forbidden journey. No, as we kissed, as we squirmed our breasts together and as we both slid our hands between the other's legs that were invitingly and gratefully opened, we became something else. We became two lesbian women intent on just two things: making the other cum and giving release to the awesome orgasm building up inside us.

Mine broke over me in a shuddering, convulsing crescendo of feelings and sensations. I must have moaned and groaned, grunted and sighed as I clung to my mother. I pushed myself downwards to urge every last morsel of sensation from the fingers that were buried deepy inside me. She did the same, actually making my wrist ache a little, but I didn't care, for all I wanted was to give her every pleasure I could.

As we lay in each others arms coming down from the peaks of our climaxes our eyes closed, I heard a man's voice saying.

"Oh I see it now Colin, how clever."

"Thank you Albert," he replied.

The female French voice went on. "I see that each shot was more and more intense, the look on their faces more and more aroused."

"Yes that's right." Colin said.

"As we walked through the images they were moving nearer and nearer to fulfillment," another voice said.

"Exactly."

Albert, it sounded like, went on. "So the first nineteen shots were showing how two women."

"Not just two women," a female voice that could have been English interrupted, "a mother and a daughter."

"Yes dear, I realise that, Colin has explained."

"Well that is the essence of this, lesbian incest you know, so clever, so unique."

"Yes, but the real essence surely, is that Colin has created a series of images that portray an impending orgasm, whilst Amanda and Sammi then actually have that orgasm in front of us."

Chapter 6

It didn't strike me until later just how clever and manipulative, really, that Colin had been. He hadn't mentioned, either to mum or me that the photos created a story of how two women slowly brought each other towards an orgasm. When he had shown us the exhibition the frames were in a completely different order to how they were at the festival; we hadn't noticed the change when we had walked through them in Berlin, assuming they were in the same order. 

And of course he had not mentioned that frame twenty was to be the fulfillment of that. He hadn't told us that us lying on the floor would complete the story. He had not mentioned that we would be the conclusion, the final piece in the jigsaw. No, he had not mentioned that mum and me finger fucking each other to massive orgasms would be the contents of frame twenty.

I have still not found out how he knew that would happen.



Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 18



Hi, I haven't posted much for a while. I have been very busy as you will understand when you read the following.

If this is your first visit to my bio on Lit, it might be worth your while flicking back through a few earlier episodes. But what the hell, if you don't fancy that, then just enjoy this,





Chapter 1

Of course we didn't win the stupid contest with Colin's ridiculous creation. Of course I didn't have sex with my mum and of course nothing happened between the three of us, as had looked possible at one time. 

I came back from Berlin a bit pissed off with both my mum and Colin for, after the Erotic Festival they had little time for me, and spoiled bitches need to be centre stage, don't they? And with them I was certainly not that.

So, back in London, I threw myself into my work and, to a lesser extent, my studying. The studying was bog standard and exceedingly boring, but, I suppose, necessary. My work was anything but bog standard and was becoming far from boring.

My work, as those who have followed my Lit submissions, will be aware, is modelling; photographic modelling, glamour photographic modelling, lingerie and nude, photographic modelling and more. More? Yes, that stage beyond nude modelling where open leg poses, touch and expression become important so that the model simulates sex, simulates masturbation and simulates orgasms. But more even than that. For recently, it was what went on over and above the posing and shooting that had become so important. 

It was the extras that were setting me aside from many of the other models and it was them that had made me the money to support myself at college. 

The extras such as: me masturbating as the photographer looked on; the photographer playing with my tits and sometimes my pussy, him, they were nearly always hims, massaging and masturbating me; me doing that for him and letting him cum on me and now and then me giving him a blow job.

For some time, well at least a couple of months I hadn't included full sex on the menu, but of course it made its way there eventually.

So now, some three months after Berlin, I was being paid to let men fuck me. Only those, I claimed, however, that I fancied, found interesting and might have had sex with, even unpaid: well we all need some moral fallback, don't we?

The first time was tough, I have to admit that. Both doing it and thinking about it afterwards.

He was a forty something, reasonably good looking, married bloke called Adam. About six feet tall, nicely slim with dark curly hair, he was good looking, maybe even handsome, but it wasn't his looks that got him the 'ultimate' extra. It wasn't also the hundred quid he paid me, although that did help, of course. No, it was his sharp and rather self-deprecating sense of humour, the way he sent both himself and me up, his broad range of interests, wit, quick mind and his thoughtful and considerate approach. He didn't try to hide his reasons for hiring me. "I like looking at pretty girls and even more pretty girls with no clothes on," No 'it's all about art' BS or trying to rationalise the reason why he wanted to have me naked and look at my tits. I liked his direct, no frills approach and he easily passed my 'would I fancy him in normal circumstances test.'

He had already asked for poses over and above those specified by the studio. My portfolio specified 'Glamour, underwear, nude and speciality posing.' As with most photographers who booked models such as me, they quickly enquired about the 'speciality' stuff. This led to a discussion on spread leg and pussy shots, me touching myself and simulated personal masturbation poses, all of which he had bought for an extra fifty pounds.

"So does Sammi go further than just flashing her bits," he said as he knelt between my opened legs focusing his camera on my blue-painted fingernails, which he had placed on my neatly trimmed patch of, nearly, blonde, pubic hairs: yes I am a natural!

"That depends," I said smiling as he took hold of my wrist and moved my fingers a little so that my forefinger slid onto my slightly gaping lips, right next to my clit.

"On what?" He asked shooting away with his Canon digital SLR.

I smiled. "Oh many things."

He moved his camera nearer to me presumably for close up shots of my finger on my pussy, a really creative shot I always think.

"Such as?"

"Well.................. er, um, who is asking, for a start." I replied as I became a little disoriented due to the surge of sexual pleasure I was giving myself 

He beamed a nice smile. Moving a little so that his leg in his jeans pressed against my thigh he said.

"Well that's obvious isn't Sammi, it's me. Do I pass? Could you bend your knees and move your feet nearer your bum please?"

"That also depends," I replied bringing my knees up into the classic, 'I'm ready to be fucked pose,' flashing my pussy at him and his camera as I did so.

"On what?"

"On what you want?"

"What do you offer?"

Smiling, I said. "That also depends."

He lowered his camera.

"Look let's cut to the chase," he said smiling, taking several shots of my pussy in quick succession.

"Ok," I murmured as I felt some more tremors of sexual arousal as my finger stroked around my clit, as he had asked.

"I would like to have sex with you Sammi."

"How much sex?"

"Everything. Could you straighten your legs again, close them, and stretch them out before you?" He asked lifting himself and straddling me just above my knees. His erection was very obvious in his thin trousers.

I remained silent for a moment as he went on. "Rub your clit again in this pose Sam."

I did and it felt good. I liked being watched and photographed as I masturbated.

He was clicking off shot after shot of my hands, fingers and pussy and was gradually panning up my body. He took several of my tits, focusing in tight on my very erect nipples. Then he was taking my face and wider angle shots combining, firstly my face and my tits, then those and my figers on my clit.

"That's a fantastic expression, Sammi."

"Is it?" I whispered croakily.

"Yes it's a real, I want to be fucked expression."

Another "Is it?" slipped from my lips.

"Yes very much so, do you?"

"What?"

"Want to be fucked and if so how much?"

"Eighty quid," somehow slid from my mouth.

It was only when he put the camera down and started to unzip himself that I realised what I had done; agreed to have full sex with a punter. 

He was quickly as naked as I was, well almost for I was still wearing a suspender belt and black seemed stockings.. Equally quickly, he was lying beside me pulling me into his arms. I toyed with the idea of asking for the money first as I always did with my more usual extras, but with my tits crushed against his chest and his gorgeously hard dick rearing up my stomach, that didn't seem appropriate. 

He kissed me. I hadn't expected that. My first inclination was to pull away, but it was actually quite nice, so I let him continue. 

He was a good lover. He took his time, seemed as concerned for my pleasure as he was for his own and moved the sex along at a pace suitable to both of us. He caressed my tits ands played with nipples and then rubbed my clit and pussy, just as a 'normal' lover would. It was quite easy to forget that I was selling myself to him.

"You ready?" He asked squeezing one boob and sucking a nipple, quite hard.

"Mmmmm, yes I am."

Fortunately, and I was so lucky here, he had his own condoms and didn't expect me to supply one, for I didn't have any: I have never made that mistake again!

Chapter 2.

"Why don't you sell it properly?" Monique a French photographic model I had got to know through a studio asked me a few weeks later, when we were having a coffee and brandy at an outside table at a bistro in Wandsworth Bridge Road.

I had told her that I had started offering sex as one of my extras. We were very open about such things; after all when you pose together simulating lesbian sex, you do become quite close. We had done that three times. 

She had been offering it for some time before me and in some ways, she was the encouragement, or whatever you want to call it, that had persuaded me, well that's my story.

"What do you mean?"

"I've pretty much stopped modelling now."

"Have you, why?" I asked.

Smiling and taking a deep drag on the foul smelling Gauloise she patriotically smoked, she replied.

"I've found a better occupation."

I laughed at her slight misuse of English by terming nude modelling as an occupation.

"And what's that?"

"I do escort work."

"What meeting men in hotels and that stuff?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"Not if you're with the right agency, as I am."

She explained it to me stressing that the clients were thoroughly vetted and that the minimum payment a girl got was £250.00 for an hour's work.

"But that goes up massively for more kinky stuff and all nighters. It's not uncommon to get a £1000 job."

We talked at some length about it. I was more interested to learn about it than to think I would do it. The more Monique talked though, and the more she suggested I should try it, so my curiosity, and greed I suppose, increased.

Since that first time with Adam some six weeks ago, I had done it eight or nine times I suppose. And to be absolutely truthful I actually enjoyed nearly all of them. That was the most difficult aspect of the whole slightly sordid situation for me to understand. Were hookers supposed to enjoy it? I had always doubted that they did, but from the moment Adam had slid the condom on his cock, I had laid back my legs open and had welcomed him between them, I had gained almost as much pleasure and satisfaction from this illicit sex as I did from unpaid stuff. What a mixed up and illogical set of thought processes and morals I have!

"I hope you don't mind and will understand Sammi, but I need to see you undressed," the escort agency owner told me.

It was a couple of weeks after my chat with Monique. That had ended with her suggesting I think about the idea of becoming an escort and to let her know if I wanted an introduction to her agency.

After that first fuck with Adam I had been full of doubt and a degree of remorse. I had questioned just where all this might lead me, after all not too many twenty-three year old girls from my classic, British, middle class background become hookers, or do they? I had no one I could turn to for any sort of advice or counselling. I mean, you can hardly ask your mum what she would think if her daughter sold her body for sex and my older lover DD, would never understand, men just don't do they?

I had always lived a bit on the edge. What with drugs and girls, older men and some quite extreme sex, I had always struggled with understanding morals, restrictions and taboos. I really did have a hedonistic outlook, if one enjoys something, how can that be wrong? So I indulged in all those things. I did smoke a lot of pot, popped some pills and messed around with various white powders. I did have sex with other women, and I did fuck older men, particularly DD the English lecturer at Bristol Uni who, after I left in the second year became, and still is, my lover. So was I now just thinking of another experience, another buzz, another turn on or, was I taking that step that tips someone over the edge. I didn't think so, I can control myself and shape my destiny, after all I had given up smoking hadn't I, cigarettes that is, of course.

"I need to check for tattoos, piercings and the like," he explained. "I can get my secretary to come in if you like?"

I had called Monique and said I was interested and she had offered to arrange an appointment for to see Tom Marston the escort agency owner. "He's a really nice guy," she'd explained, "Not a bit seedy or pervy, all business-like and very professional."

Asking if I needed a female chaperone struck me as rather ironic, considering I was here to get work selling my body. In any case modelling had helped me overcome any shyness I had about flashing my bits.

"No that's ok," I said.

I was wearing a mid blue, sleeveless, vee neck, cable knit sweater over a white tee, with tight, white jeans. The sweater was hip length and I wore a big, three inch belt with a massive buckle round my waist. No stockings or socks for I was wearing strappy mid-heeled shoes with my red painted toes on view, tarts shoes as I had read the late Princess Di called them.

"There's a screen over there you can use." 

"How much do I take off?"

"Just down to your underwear."

I didn't have any tats or piercings, scars or other unsightly marks so I passed Tom's test. It was encouragingly giving weight to Mon's assertion at how well he organised everything, including closely vetting the clients. He even made me pull my boobs out from my bra and slip my panties down so he could inspect my tits, bum cheeks, tummy and pubes.

"Well you certainly have the essentials for escort work Sammi," he told me going on to ask if I wanted to try it.

I said that I would like to for I had pretty much reached my decision before arriving at the smart offices in Hoxton, Tom's attitude and approach had simply confirmed it.nt 

Slipping into my jeans and tee and pulling my sweater over my head, I fluffed my hair up as I listened to him saying.

"Before you make your mind up I want you to have a good think about it. Lots of pretty girls are happy to get their kit and have sex with guys for stacks of loot. I need girls who are more than that. I need sophisticated and intelligent girls."

The smartarse remark was out of my mouth before I could stop it; that's always been a fault of mine, speak first and think later.

"Want me to take a test?"

Fortunately he got the irony and smiled. 

"No that won't be necessary, but I would like to join me for dinner tomorrow night, if that's convenient?"

He said that car would pick me up the next evening from my home in Essex. That made my mind whirl for I was thinking how would I explain it to my mum. I asked him what I should wear and he deflected the question by simply telling me where we were eating. That clearly put the clothes issue back in my court: his test I guessed.

Anyway, that all went ok. I told mum I was seeing a guy who was very wealthy, explaining away the car, and that he was taking me to Nobu, which wasn't where I was going. It seemed sensible to hide something, but the Nobu reference, explained the posh frock. 

Apart from having to take endless calls on his mobile, I have six girls working he explained, the evening was great. It was almost like a date and I felt a little disappointed when he put me back in the car. I thought I had passed his test for he complimented me on the lowish cut, thin strapped, black dress with a slightly flared, on the knee length skirt, I didn't get drunk, snort any powder or pop any pills and I used all the right knives and forks.

In between the calls from both the girls and his 'controller' who he told me was in touch all the time, for each girl had a pager that was constantly switched on and ready for use if anything at all started to go wrong. "Which thankfully it rarely does," he added comfortingly, he explained the pay and told me how he wanted his girls to behave.

You have to be like a real date. Most of the guys are after companionship and comforting almost as much as they are after sex. They are nearly all married and use my agency as a preference to having a mistress. 

I understood what he meant my mind flitting back firstly to Adam and then several other photographers with whom I'd had sex. I certainly and, from what they said, them as well, found the sex more memorable and enjoyable when we kissed and cuddled as well as fucked.

Chapter 3

I didn't realise to ages afterwards that my first 'date' was a set up. It was with an established client who I was 'given' to, to check me out: Tom's sensible standard procedure. 

It was though as scarey as hell. What had seemed a good idea, meeting for a drink in the bar of his upscale London west end hotel, having lunch at a well known, extraordinarily expensive and exclusive restaurant and then back to his hotel for the remainder of the afternoon, when Tom had briefed me, felt anything like it as I got ready. I told my mum I was going out to lunch with my 'new rich boyfriend' so when the car arrived, Tom always send cars to collect us and pick us up after dates, she wasn't surprised: jealous maybe for she loves all the glam stuff. 

She also wasn't, therefore, surprised to see me in my tight, smart but casual, just right for lunch, Versace blue jeans, little silky, cerise coloured camisole top with spaghetti straps and a rumpled, beige linen jacket with the sleeves rolled up, very Miami Vice, a look that has very much come back in London.

"Hello you must be Sammi," a, getting on for middle-aged, pleasant looking, slightly balding guy said in an American accent as I stood in the doorway to luxurious bar of the top hotel.

"Yes and you must be Derek."

He was nice. Easy to talk to, not at all boastful and seemingly more interested in me than in talking about himself. I did though, as advised by Tom in my 'training sessions,' see he does take all measures to provide a great service, keep turning the conversation back to him: after all that is everyone's favourite topic isn't it? I mean no one is really interested in other people's holiday photos are they?

A large glass of simply superb Chablis later and we were walking through Mayfair towards the restaurant. He was clearly well-known and we were shown to a corner table where we sat almost side by side with a view across the elegant restaurant: in my limited knowledge it seemed to be the best table.

He told me he owned an electronics company based in Illinois. By the advice from Tom and for discretion I didn't ask its name or the town where he lived or worked. "Be interested, but not inquisitive" as Tom had explained.

He said he was married with three children, one of whom needed special care and hat had caused problems in the marriage. Although surviving and on the surface was fine, and he thought they still loved each other, he needs the buzz of girls like me.

"It keeps me young Sammi, and stops me straying," he explained rather illogically, but who was I to disagree?

"Undress for me," he asked politely, pouring us both a glass of champagne when we were in his sumptuous suite.

Does this make me a slut, a woman of easy virtue, a natural hooker or just a girl who lives on the edge, wants to push out the boundaries of her sexuality and loves to experiment, but I found undressing myself, then him, having extensive foreplay with a virtual stranger then fucking him twice that afternoon, so easy.

He wasn't an especially good lover, but he was considerate, not particularly demanding and did, as Tom had intimated, want comfort and, I suppose 'loving' as much as he wanted sex.

It was flattering to see and hear his admiration and desire for me as I stood before him in the sitting room of the lounge and dropped the jacket on the floor. I ran my hands up and down my body a few times before lifting the lacy hem of the silky, cerise camisole up to my breasts. I stroked them through the material enjoying that feeling and liking the look on his face as I touched my tits. I pulled the camisole up and over my head and handed it to him: where the hell that idea came from I have no idea, perhaps I am a natural, born stripper!

"Oh Sammi, you have lovely breasts," he said quietly, his eyes riveted on my little B cup fried eggs. I liked him saying that so I took my bra off and showed them to him in all their naked glory.

With lovers and when posing with photographers I adore being half undressed, either half actually, while the other party is fully clothed. I have no idea why, but it is such a massive turn on for me and that was the case with Derek. I think it was that turn on that made fucking my first escort client so relatively easy.




Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 18



"Come here," he said huskily.

I stood in front of him. He undid the brass button on the zip of my posh jeans. He put his hands on my hips, I leaned forward, my tits dangling invitingly for his mouth, and he gently sucked each nipple. He was good, just the right pressure, nothing too hard or aggressive. Nice. He turned me round.

"And you have a gorgeous butt, baby," he sighed running his hands over it. His fingers went into the waist band and he tried easing them down, but the zip was still done up. I didn't know whether he would want me to undo it or not, so I turned back to face him, thrusting my hips forward as I did. He smiled as he found the zip and slid it down. He turned me round again, then peeled the almost skin tight jeans down my bum revealing the white lacy thong that plunged between the mounds of my 'gorgeous butt.'

"Now where do nice young ladies like you get such great all over tans?" He asked running his fingers over each mound.

I was feeling relaxed and confident enough to try a jokey retort.

"Ah a trick of the trade Derek, and I can't reveal that."

"No I suppose not," he replied stroking my bum so wonderfully gently. He went. "And you are revealing other, more important things to me aren't you?"

I smiled at that and muttered. "Yes Derek."

He left the waist band of my jeans round my upper thighs so that both cheeks in the thong were bare, but my thighs and legs were still covered. I bent forward a little, this time offering him my bum in place of my tits. He accepted the invitation. He kissed it and licked both cheeks. That was also very nice. He slid one hand round to my front his fingers slipping down and probing in the silk of my thong. He quickly found what he was looking for, and as he did, my entire body shuddered, so strong was the sensation in my clit.

"Oh God," I groaned not at all acting as Tom had told me some girls do, but as I musn't. "Men can always tell," he'd said.

I half stumbled and was half pulled backwards so that my bum pressed against his face. One hand rubbing my clit, the other holding my hip, Derek rubbed his face all over my bum and got his tongue between my cheeks.

"Lean forward more." 

"I can't," I replied "The jeans are in the way and I will lose my balance."

"Ok," he replied sounding disappointed.

"Like this then," I said moving away from him, sliding the jeans down round my knees and bending over a table so that my arms were resting on it and my head on them.

"Oh fuck, yes," he groaned, moving over to me and kneeling behind me.

Derek kissed, licked, sucked and gently nibbled both cheeks for some time. He alternated his fingers between rubbing my clit, by putting his arm round me, and stroking my pussy, by slipping his hand between my legs from behind. He was obviously something of a bum fan. His enthusiasm, the time he spent and the low moans and expressions of pleasure told me that: and that was fine by me for I really am sensitive down there.

I felt his tongue licking across one of my cheeks right along the curve of my crease. Then it slid down the 'cliff wall' deep into that musky crevice. It was almost as if he was exploring, no enquiring is a better term. Yes he seemed to be asking my permission, how gentlemanly! A little wiggle and a low groan told him that I was giving him that. He quickly pulled the thin gusset to one side. His tongue then slid right into my crease and it licked along the bottom of it. It was absolutely, bloody gorgeous, particularly when he got the tip of it inside me a little. He did that by grasping each cheek, pulling them apart and stretching the puckered skin surrounding that hole. That opened it a little, which enabled him to give me that most sensational of sensations, anal, oral sex.

Odd isn't it, I adore my bum being fucked by a tongue, quite enjoy a finger's exploration, but am shit scared of having a cock up there.

So, now I have done it, how do I feel? Quite frankly, if all my future dates are as successful and, I have to say, as pleasurable, then that will suit me down to the ground: I'll keep you posted.