Love Points A Finger

by Linda Chorlton
(November 2001)

When did I first realise that I loved sex with girls, as much as boy fucking? It started when I was in secondary school. The best days of your life.

One day, as I was sitting at the back of the library classroom, during a free-study period, I began to daydream about one of the older boys at the school. He was cute, he was tall, fair haired and had a rugged chin, my turn on. We young ladies were not supervised during these gaps between proper class time, so they were regarded as non-obligatory by most, who skived off. I used them to study, and got homework out of the way, most days, but not today, as I had seen him at the cinder track that divided boys school from us girls.

That boy had got my sexual chemistry bubbling away, and I yearned his touch. Unconsciously, my hand drifted under my skirt, and my fingers were lightly rubbing the edge of the elastic on my panties. Vickie's voice, from the seat behind me, really startled me,when she whispered, "Oh, Barb, isn't that lovely. I do that, too"

"Shut up! Someone might hear you!"

"Don't worry, No one is paying any attention."

Then Vickie's hand reached under my skirt, finally locating my fingers. She squeezed my hand, and her hand drifted slowly, but gently up my crotch. "Where is it. Where is your centre of pleasure?"

Her fingers generated marvelous feelings as they caressed my pubic mound. But, all of a sudden, the bell rang and it was time to leave. Confused, I tried to avoid her as we left school, but she caught up to me and walked beside me.

"I can make it feel really good," she said in a sultry voice, as we walked along, side by side.

Frankly, my knees were weak, and my mind whirled with plans for letting her prove her ability to excite me, again. Although I hadn't paid much attention to her before the library incident, I began to treat Vickie as a best friend. Just a few days later, we were playing after school in her large garden.

Her house was the same as the others in the suburbs, but her back garden was very deep--it actually extended the length of two or more of the others' gardens. There was a small grove of about a half dozen pine trees, that surrounded a cool, dark glade. In that glade, we felt completely isolated from the rest of the world. It was our secret place. We were doing something--I can't recall what--then I felt her presence behind me, and her warm breath in my ear, as she whispered, "I'd like to make you feel good. I want to arouse the woman in you."

Her arms went around my waist, and she kissed me, or licked me--I don't know--on the nape of my neck. It would sound icky to a young girl, but it felt--well it felt nice. Extremely nice. Sexy. How hot she seemed as her lips caressed my neck--and how natural it seemed as she pulled my arms upward, and lifted my shirt off in one easy motion.

Her hand rubbed the surface of my "teen" bra, and focused pressure on my right nipple. My breasts were still conical, just developing, but her rubbing showed me for the first time just how sensitive my nipples could be. That tingle is still there, on a few rare occasions - with the right person.

There was nothing that I could do except to delight at the emotions that and new experiences she was giving me. I felt warm and a little dizzy spell came over me, so I leaned back against her. She continued to nuzzle the back of my naked kneck, and then, with both hands she stretched forward to my chest, under my armpits, kneaded my breasts with her searching fingers.

For the first time, I felt a warmth grow between my thighs. With the tips of the fingers of her left hand, she began to rub up and down my bare belly. Her fingers moved gently down the front of my skirt, grazing the top of my pubic mound of venus, I nearly swooned. Theese new feelings were indescribably intense, and as I was so wrapped up in them that I didn't even notice when she unclasped my bra, unzipped my skirt, letting both garments drop to the ground.

Gently, she pulled me backwards, until I was sitting in her lap, where she had now sat down on the ground. My cunt juices were starting to flow, I could feel my labia puckering, and my clitoris was firmly proud. As we sat, she continued to nuzzle, continued to rub, until I had my first orgasm, just laying in her arms.

The thrill was pure novelty. Recently, she and I shared many lovely times together. She taught me about my body, and made me love her. I can't even begin to explain what she taught me. All my senses took on a new intensity of feelings. However, our times together were soon over.

When I began high school, her family moved away, and, although we wrote to each other at first, we eventually lost contact with each other, as young people do. In high school, I never made contact with any other girl like Vickie. At first, it was because I mourned my lost love. Later, it was because I was afraid to make such a relationship with any of the other girls. I had no way of telling which of them would be interested in such games, and feared that if I approached the wrong girl, that she would spread the word that I was "strange." Lesbians were weirdos.

However, I did discover that the making of love with boys and, later, men could be quite pleasurable as well. Although, and perhaps it was just the memory of my first time of feeling the wonder of sex, I never found a man who could satisfy me in the same way as Vickie. As a result, through my late twenties I was my own woman. I never married, and I developed a rather successful career.

I dated, and made love with a few men--some of them were nice, but none of them were "right" They were kind and attentive at first, until they fucked, then they reverted to being childish, jealous, possessive - all the negatives.

Then, out of the blue, as they say, all of a sudden she was there. I first saw her at the office. Her breasts and legs caught my attention as she parked her round, lovely bottom against a corridor wall whilst we talked. I don't believe that she noticed as I gazed at the long stretch of her thighs underneath the hem of her skirt. We talked, frequently, and became office friends--often eating lunch together.

I haven't mentioned that she was married. Our conversations would often turn to her married life, and sometimes to her sex life. I discovered, for example, that her husband was a very conservative lover. She loved him, but would have been happier if he would loosen up and include such things as mutual masturbation and oral sex in their lovemaking routine. He was a missionary-position only kind of chap. This was a big turn-off, and she had yearnings for new experiences, she felt the urge for a different sex life, but was lost as to what.

It was perhaps a month or two later that she, in some way, recognised my attraction to her. Her reaction took the form of teasing and joking. My attraction, though covert, must have become more apparent apparent, as I took every opportunity to touch her, rub up against her, hold her with toying hugs, and suchlike tokens of attention.We never discussed getting closer, and I never broached the subject of woman-to-woman love.

However, she was obviously now aware of my physical attraction to her, and, I suppose you'd say that she took advantage of it for her own amusement. Women can use sex as a weapon, or a powerplay, as well as chaps. For example, one day when I brought some paperwork to her at her desk, she swung her knees around against my leg, trapping it. Then began rubbing herself upwards, against my inner legs, with slow, long methodical strokes, watching my eyes steadily with a slight, mocking smile.

This was a cool, considered attack, pure naked sexual powerplay. I don't know what she was seeing in my eyes. Perhaps my pupils dilated. Perhaps there was some sort of softness that she could detect. She saw something, though, and laughed out loud, showing the tiniest tip of shiny tongue between her pink lips and wet, white teeth. I felt a strong tug of affection for her at that moment, and a lovely warmth in my loins.

I almost fell into her trap and kissed her. She had a fondness for sheer, silky blouses. When she wore one, it gave me the urge to put my hands on her shoulders and delicately caress the place where her bra straps were visible through the fabric. I have used the same ploy with blokes. Wearing frilly-edged knickers under a tight skirt, or pants, that show the visible panty line.

When she wore a sweater, I felt an overwhelming desire to run my hands under it, and to squeeze her lovely, round breasts, and tweak a nipple. Later--whether she started it or I did, I don't know--we developed a game.

First, it started with light, though sexy, banter. I would comment, for example, on the colour of her tights, and ask her to pull up the hem of her dress so that I could see them better. She would say "No, your stockings are nicer, why not pull up your dress? What panties are you wearing - if any?" Fortunately for me,it gradually became more physical. We would meet in various quiet corners of the building, and she would suddenly stop in her tracks, lean backwards against me, reach behind my behind, and grab me forward to her, gently rubbing her bottom against my mound. Sometimes, she would turn around and give me a quick peck on the lips--once or twice, the kisses were deeper.

But always, she would break away after a few moments, straighten her dress and leave me to dream of her lips and her body. Then, she got pregnant with her first child. This caused a change in our relationship. I believe part of it was that her husband wouldn't sexually satisfy her because of her pregnancy--but the result was to my benefit, because our necking sessions at work became more involved, and lasted longer.

Emotional neglect, and hormonal imbalance made her crave attention from me, that she should have got a home, but wasn't. She seemed to find it harder to break away after our furtive brief touch or kiss, we both would often hug, kiss deeply and fondle each other through our clothing. In fact, she seemed to become frustrated, since we dared not do anything that lasted more than a couple of minutes for fear of being discovered. I craved for her--but would only take our relationship as far as she wanted it to go. I am no butch dyke, just looking for someone to love.

A few months into her pregnancy, I moved from my old place to an apartment which just "happened" to be a block from her house. This meant that it became very convenient for us to go in a car pool. We spent ever more time together, and eventually I would spend evenings at her home, both when her husband was present, and when he was away on a business trip.

She lightened up better at home, obviously, but when her husband was away, we would play. At first, we behaved like teenagers--we sat on the couch and necked, then, after a while, we would pet. I got her excited enough to touch my vagina, but not to finger dip me, or stroke pussy, certainly we had not yet progressed to cunnilingus or mutual masturbation sessions, except in my fantasies.

She complained of backaches as her body grew larger--so I read all the books I could find, and learned to give skilled massages. This meant that I could see her naked, as she had to lie on her bed, and I would soothingly oil and massage her aching muscles.

This helped her cross the gender divide, we both would wind up naked, and we would kiss, and cuddle and explore each others bodies, eventually we would either masturbate each other, or watch each other as we masturbated ourselves.

I don't believe that she started out as skilled at pleasuring another woman as Vickie was, but we learned together, and could give each other the greatest pleasures that sex has to offer.

Once, she took me as I was sitting down. I was sitting on the couch, and she sat before me on the floor. Her hand reached under my skirt, her fingers entering my womanhood. She crouched on the floor next to me, her hand searching, moving, feeling within me. It felt so strange, to sit quietly, hands folded across my breasts, her arm extended up inside me--my legs spread far apart, the rim of pink getting a tingling touch.

Sitting still, controlling myself through the pure ecstacy of her explorations: her little touches, her experiments, her caresses, her attacks. Those long fingers plunging into me, then withdrawing to move around my nether lips--the bud of my clitoris at first erect and swollen, then withdrawing into the engorged nest. She slowly rose up, her fingers still in place, her mouth seeking mine.

Our tongues crowding into each other, the one seeking the other, pleading and prodding. It is triple the pleasure when both orifices are filled with another person's body parts, whether tongues, fingers, cocks or dildos. Try it yourself. I opened for her, whispering in her ear as she massages the inner ridge of flesh, wrings it and makes it cum like a drain, the honey weeping on her hand--my ecstacy telling her that I am hers.

Surrendering with each gush of that pink love-box, and hidden place. She sat down, next to me, and we kissed. As we kissed, I removed her housecoat--she wore nothing underneath except a pair of thin, silky panties. I kissed her mouth, her neck, then spent time kissing and licking and sucking on her lovely breast--now fully swollen with her pregnancy. I pecked my way down her chest, and moved myself forward until I could reach her panties.

I began to lick at her through the thin barrier of the fabric, my spit juices making them see-through, so that I could see her cunt widening and twitching under my licks, smell her cum juices, and then and her hands flew to my head, stroking my ears, grabbing the back of my head to force my face and mouth into her playpen arena, then her open mouth began making small cries as the tension built.

I moved the sopping nylon aside and buried my face against her wideopen slit. A pursed tongue, I call it a duck's arse configuration, became a rampant rod, prodding deep into her cunt, as good as some men's cocks ever achieve.

Her nails grazed my back, as her legs jerked convulsively upward. Her ankles locked against my spine. I moved slightly upward to find her G-spot, sucked in into my mouth. Her loins rolled upward in powerful thrusts as she cried out, my tongue and lips constantly moving until I felt her shuddering against me, heard her scream, the tenseness dissolving out of her.

Then the warm taste of her cum told me that she was no longer just playing games - i had found my new Vickie.