The whimper I let out in no way represented the blare of sensations dancing through me. Her tongue teased, pressing and holding and never quite releasing me. I thought I would pass out, the pleasure was so fierce yet so subtle, until it all accelerated off into the beyond.
When I thought I could take no more and tried to withdraw, I realized she had her hands on my bum and was holding me tighter and tighter onto her mouth. The acceleration didn’t brake until I screamed with pleasure, a firework rocket of sound soaring free of the earth.
One last, lingering lick shuddered and glided me back to earth in a purple, silken parachute. She let go, delivering a stinging slap on my bum, and tilted her head, wet lips offered up for kissing and her eyes so deep and delving.
I took her face in my hands and returned her kiss with cruel leisure.
Alicia got on to the bed, scrambling into the centre and stretching her hands above, feeling for the bedrail. “Tie me up, p-l-e-a-s-e!”
I found that cord and in the delirious fog of passion found the clarity of urgency. I tied her wrists and secured them to the bedrail with a tug.
She smiled a faint smile. “Tighter.”
I gave another tug and this time took greater care with the knot. But she wasn’t struggling, she was wriggling. I nestled against her gently, letting her find the right spot against me. She bit my lip in the moment of discovery. I kissed her hard, teasing her tender nipple. Her responding shiver travelled all the way up through the kiss and into the salt-and-pepper taste of the moment.
As I kissed the other nipple she rubbed herself against me fiercely as if to say “harder!” but trembled as my tongue played, groaning as I sucked on her until she squealed for me to stop.
I got off and lay alongside, a finger sliding inside her as I moved.
Her mouth formed a perfect, silent O. Her eyes pleaded as the palm of my hand cupped her and she thrust against it, whispering breathless instructions. “Harder, harder, faster . . . stop! Now you can torture me – please don’t let me come, not even if I beg.”
Now I knew how to love her, and this pitched me tumbling into irrevocable love with her.
I set her breast free and teased her lips as my finger slid up over the glory of her clitoris. Leaving her wanting more, I got off the bed, picked up the red cords and used them to tie her legs apart. With one ankle secured to the corner, I took hold of the other and opened her legs further until she dipped her chin as if to say “yes”. She gazed at me, panting, both nipples now lipstick red, her lips full and wanting and the glisten of her pubic hair in the darkness making me crave salt.
That first climax of hers will live with me forever. It was the longest of all moments, with almost the least contact imaginable – just the tip of my finger skating on the silk-topped tip of her clitoris and she with her back arched as far as it would go, unable to thrust further and find relief because of the cords holding her.
I revelled in her ecstasy and when the moment was right the gentlest pressure was enough to make her collapse back onto the bed, crying out. I pursued her and rubbed her until she said “no”, the word stuck on repeat long after I’d stopped touching. My fingers still were wet as I stroked her livid nipples and kissed all the “no’s” away, waiting for her breathing to settle before untying her.
I hauled the duvet over us and we cuddled and kissed in slow waves after the stormy high tide.
In the months that followed, I had so much to learn. I learnt what all the different coloured ropes in the drawer meant; what it felt like to be fucked by a dildo driven by a sensitive, sensual woman – fantastic!
But I never mastered the strap-on, not to her satisfaction. Maybe I tried too hard, I don’t know.
But, even in the heaven, I’d learnt the lesson in Jen’s wise words – “enjoy her while you’ve got her.”
I knew one day Alicia would go.
And one day she did.
One day, coming home, the uncanny silence of the flat told me the day had come.
The barbs of the moment darted into me – heart, brain and vein.
You’ll think me a heartless bitch when I tell you I got top marks in that year’s exams. In my defence, I lived alone. I had nothing. I wanted nothing except Alicia. So I studied. And I also had the luxury of not having to look for another room-mate until the next term.
My exam successes came with a price. Every day I lived in hope of hearing the sound of her key in my lock.
But instead, eventually, it was a knock on the door. I skipped to answer it, already seeing Alicia there, but opened the door on Jen, her eyes fierce for battle but her head slightly to one side as if in anticipation of defeat.
In silent turmoil I opened the door much wider than I needed to.
We sat on the sofa, staring down at a muted TV.
At last, I took a deep breath and said aloud, “You’re welcome to stay.” Four words, cards on the table, face up.
After a long pause, yet with typical Jen abruptness, she looked at me, full face. “So, do I get to have her room?”
“My dear, I moved in there months ago. You get to have my old room.”
She gave an endearingly vulnerable shrug.
We knew what we’d both lost and it was nice not to have to hide it.
She said, “Alicia’s a teacher. It takes her about a year but then she moves on. I knew she wouldn’t be here. I’d heard she went off to Australia with an older woman. I came hoping you’d be here. That’s what it is.” She gave another “careless” shrug.
The vulnerability of her shrug touched me but I had to say, “I’m not such a thieving fat bitch then?”
A Jen smile is something worth waiting for. “You were never fat and, that night, you looked kind of cute – tied to the bed.”
We held hands and eventually kissed a long, exploratory, slightly competitive kiss.
And that was the beginning of year three.
I will never feel guilty about Alicia. I know she isn’t coming back but if she did, I’d drop Jen in an instant, just as she would me.
I want to be with Jen because by being with her I am also with Alicia – and Jen is a challenge!
I’d only feel guilty if I shrank back down into the old Debbie as if what Alicia had taught me meant nothing. Until she said, “Now it’s your turn,” I’d never realized that I even had a turn.
Alicia made me realize what I want and taught me how much I have to give.
SHAMED – AND SHAMELESS!
Lydia, Connemara
I grew up in a rural community in Eire so remote that, at the age of thirteen, I was sent off to boarding school where I stayed until I was nearly nineteen. I got on well with the other girls (single sex, no boys) and maybe I was very innocent, but sex never entered my mind much, even during puberty.
Just after I turned eighteen, our French teacher, Angela, a pretty and petite young lady invited me to her house for tea one Sunday afternoon. I was flattered and made sure I looked nice and smart in honour of the occasion. I was the only guest and we sat in the garden in the warm sun chatting of school and my background and interests. After we’d had tea, it became rather chilly so we went indoors and settled down on her couch together. She gave me some wine, which I wasn’t used to but Angela said it would be alright. As the level in the glass went down, I felt more and more relaxed. I was aware of Angela snuggling up closer to me and her arm around my shoulders. She asked if I had any boyfriends and I could honestly say no, it had never been an issue with me. Her mouth came very close to my cheek and her warm breath felt ticklish as she whispered, did I like girls better?
The next thing, Angela was holding my hand and taking me into her bedroom. She began to kiss me and I swear I was going to resist but I just couldn’t, her mouth felt wonderful, like honey or cream. She unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off. My skirt was next, unzipped and taken down. Her fingers teased my nipples through my bra. Then I felt her fingers in my knickers. I was ashamed of being so wet there! I felt it must be wrong to be
aroused so easily. Of course, I was getting quite carried away, too, kissing her and fumbling with her breasts, while she encouraged my fingers lower. I ran my fingertips over her smooth mound; I remember I found this startling and very erotic – I had never thought that area could be shaved! I began to rub her between her legs and she became very wet. The wetter she was, the better I could rub and caress her there and then slip my fingers inside her. I was totally carried away by now; I remember I had no thoughts as to who she was or who I was. We were just two lovers.
Meanwhile, Angela had her fingers between my thighs and she gently inserted them inside me. I could distinctly feel her thrusting in there and then she stopped pushing. She asked if I was still a virgin. I blushed. Angela asked if I wanted to lose it. I said yes and there was this sudden pain which made me cry out. Then she lay back and said, “Sorry, did it hurt too much?” And I just shook my head and hugged her. That sort of broke the spell and after I tidied myself up Angela kissed me goodbye and I returned to school. I think she realized she had gone too far. We didn’t repeat our love making; within a week or two Angela abruptly left the school. I never knew why but could maybe guess.
I left school, too, not long after having taken my final exams. I didn’t want to return home to a tiny village and no prospects so got an office job in town and saved hard for a couple of years. I still didn’t feel attracted to boys and only girls gave me a buzz but, apart from one or two half-hearted flings on trips to Dublin, I had no relationships. At the end of two years I had enough cash for a holiday in the United States, somewhere I had always wanted to go, following in the footsteps of my Irish forebears.
I travelled on a tourist visa and that gave me three months to sightsee and enjoy myself. In fact, I went straight to the west coast, to Los Angeles, a real pilgrimage as I adored the movies. I had a great time and visited all the sights like Hollywood and Sunset Boulevard, Universal Studios, Disney and some of the great surfing beaches, plus up-market San Diego and across the border to Tijuana. In fact, I had such a good time that my carefully hoarded cash was running out fast; it wasn’t going to last for a whole three months. One evening I was walking back to my room from the diner conveniently situated in the motel grounds when I passed some newspaper vending machines and out of interest picked up one of the free sheets. It was called LA Xpress, or some such thing, and frankly it was quite shocking, being full of adverts for sex shops and raunchy phone calls and so on. But one thing caught my eye, an ad by a studio looking for women to star in films. Now, I wasn’t so naive that I didn’t guess this was for the sex industry but I was so concerned about my lack of cash that I wasn’t too fussed. And I knew I shouldn’t work on a tourist visa but guessed that that sort of employer was unlikely to care about formalities!
There was no request for a CV or photographs in advance, just come along and be checked out. I had a hire car, a “rent-a-wreck”, literally, as I was still too young for any major rental firm to consider me a suitable client. So with a road map and some luck, I found my way out to Van Nuys and this particular studio. Now, this wasn’t Hollywood and there were no fancy gates with ornate ironwork and a uniformed guard and offices in bungalows and scenery being moved by and a back lot glimpsed in the far distance or anything like that. Just an anonymous white warehouse in an industrial zone, baking in the midsummer city heat.
I thumbed the call button on an intercom and a voice asked what I wanted. When I said I had come in response to the ad in the Xpress, the door buzzed open and I found myself at a reception desk. The woman behind the desk was eyeing me up and down, not too friendly, as though she had seen so many girls come in and as swiftly go out again that it wasn’t worth wasting a smile. She gave me a form that asked for some basic stuff like name and address, acting experience and vital measurements (luckily I knew mine!). The form ended up by stating that the work involved acting in sexual situations and that if I was unhappy with this I should leave. Otherwise, just sign – and I did.
Having waited a bit, I was taken back to an office with a middle-aged man behind a desk. He looked at me and at my form and asked why I wanted to act in his films. I was honest about needing the cash. At that he pressed a buzzer and the woman from the front desk came in. She looked me up and down, too, then asked me to strip. I must have looked startled because she said something like, “What did you expect here, honey, an Oscar award maybe?” I kind of giggled at that and thought, well, why not? So I got undressed. I had worn my best underwear that day and stood there, shivering in the cold air con blowing right on me from a ceiling vent.
The woman looked at me in disdain and said, “We ain’t shooting lingerie this week, honey, strip means strip right off.”
As I hesitated, the man said, “If you can’t do it in a room with just us two, how’re you gonna do it on a set with a big horny actor and a cameraman, director and crew, huh?” So I stepped out of my panties and took off my bra and just stood there as they walked around me.
The woman nodded and the man said, “OK, we’ll give you a try. Any preferences?”
Wow, I was in! I was going to be an actor! Well, sort of. But preferences? I could only think of one thing and I blurted out that I wanted to do it with women, not men, just women. The man nodded slowly. He said I was in luck, they were shooting a series of lesbian encounters that week and needed some new faces. I was good to go, would I start now?
I said, “Yes but what about, you know, the money?”
He said, “We’ll see you right, it depends on how many scenes you do.”
I picked up my clothes, and the woman gave me a sort of cotton wrap to wear and took me down the hallway. I felt like I was in hospital with so little on and other people fully dressed around me! We went into a studio set, which was made up like a bedroom. As we entered, the woman put a hand on my bottom (or butt, as they say) and patted it. She seemed a bit more friendly. She asked if I was really a lesbian or did I have a jealous boyfriend outside somewhere. I said I only liked girls and that seemed to please her. We sat next to one another on an old couch; suddenly her hand slipped under my robe and caressed my knee and thigh. I was surprised; I suddenly began to see a tender side to this tough woman and I put my hand on her arm and squeezed encouragingly. We both smiled at once.
Next thing, I was told to get in the bed and that a girl would come in and undress while I watched and then join me. The covers were to be left pulled back and we were to make love and do it slowly, the scene had to last. This older girl came in after that. She was tall and done up like a boss woman, all power dressing and attitude. She stopped when she saw me and said something like, “What are you doing here?”
I just stuttered, I didn’t know what to say.
That seemed OK, as she said, “One of my husband’s tarts are you? I’ll show you what a real woman can give him.” And she undressed to her lingerie and was on the bed with me and we were kissing and caressing.
She took charge, which was fine with me and fitted in with her bossy business role, I suppose. She took my face in both hands and kissed me hard. Next her lips travelled down to my breasts and she was licking and sucking me there. By instinct I had my hands on her bottom and one slipped between her legs and began caressing her slit through her French knickers. How shameful was this? A convent-educated girl finger fucking a complete stranger who just happened to be a beautiful woman as well! Next thing, my fingers were inside her panties and feeling just how wet she was there. Oddly enough, not much. I suppose this sort of thing was just a job to her, as routine as any nine to five stint. In fact, she whispered in my ear not to rub her too hard there as her slit would be sore and she had more scenes to film later!
By now, she had found out how wet I was. I’m sure I was soaking the sheets below, and she slithered down me to put her lips to my pussy and began to lick me and suck my clit. My fingers were enmeshed in her hair and I just hung on, probably pulling a bit too hard and then, wow, I just exploded. It was no acting, a mammoth orgasm ripped into me. My compani
on looked a bit startled; I suppose it was unprofessional to show real rather than fake emotion but I couldn’t help myself.
Anyway, the director seemed pleased and shouted out that that was a wrap (see, I was getting the lingo already) and thanks girls.
I more or less fell off the bed and back to my older woman friend, as she seemed now, who put the cotton robe round me and hugged me gently. She told me I’d done real well and, as a first timer, that was enough for today. I got dressed and we went back to the office where a wad of dollar bills was thrust at me. Needless to say, I took them.
I was told to come back the next day. When I did, there was a minibus outside and it appeared we were going to a location shoot out in the hills somewhere. The storyline was that two women who were old school pals but had lost contact found one another again via a school chums’ website and were meeting up. Both now had high school age daughters who also attended the meeting held at the upscale home of one of the moms. I was the “visiting” daughter; my “mom” was, as the part demanded, about twenty years older than me but still incredibly attractive. We sat next to one another on the minibus and she filled me in on the story line. The other mom and daughter were already at the shoot.
Once we had filmed the “meet and greet” part of the film, we were comfortably seated in a nice lounge, chatting with glasses of wine and nibbles, just like a real meeting of friends from the past. The other “mom” was very much on a par with my own in the movie, a very attractive brunette with well stacked breasts and nice smooth thighs, all very visible under a tightfitting, low-cut, short sun dress. I was seated next to her.
As the movie developed, she asked me questions about my life (in the role, of course) and I was prepared with my background story. She asked if I had any boyfriends and I said no, I was too shy. I giggled and that seemed to please the director. The “mom” had her arm round me and began asking me if I liked girls and did I, you know, look at other girls, like at their legs, boobs or up their skirts. I genuinely blushed because it was so close to how I felt. After that, we went off hand-in-hand and she took me to a bedroom where we chatted and she persuaded me to lie down on the bed and relax. I felt her fingers begin to massage my feet, my thighs and then up under my skirt. Soon, she was stripped to bra and panties (and yes, she did have big, beautiful breasts) and I was being stripped, too.
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions Page 4
