The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica (65 page)

When she looked up she saw Wendy looking at her. Miss Spencer’s eyes drifted to the view beneath the table. The thirty-eight-year-old student’s legs were open, the hem of her dress
at her wide hips. Her index finger glistened as it pushed in and out of her vagina.

Miss Spencer could hardly believe what she was seeing and couldn’t tear her gaze from the seductive sight. She stared at the rhythmic movements of the finger as it plunged inside and then
slid out, its pace and vigour increasing now she was watching.

Wendy savoured the small, discreet audience, kept her eyes open and firmly fixed on her tutor. Her pulse raced as she masturbated for their mutual enjoyment. The orgasm came closer, her
finger’s movement quickening further.

Miss Spencer could feel the wetness between her legs. She longed to stand, to cross the small distance between her desk and the student before her. The story Wendy had written had stirred her,
awoken feelings, given her a desire for fulfilment.

Wendy’s dark legs spread wider as two fingers entered and her thumb rubbed at her clitoris. A redness touched her cheeks as her body tensed, her eyes narrowing and mouth slightly open.

Miss Spencer watched as Wendy trembled, knew the wonderful pleasure that was spreading from the epicentre between her legs.

The sound of chair legs scraping on the floor gave Miss Spencer a start. Flustered, she looked towards the back of the room as Robert, one of her less gifted students, rose from his seat.

As Wendy pulled her dress down to cover herself, he walked to the front of the class and placed a single sheet of paper on Miss Spencer’s desk, only half a side actually having been
written upon.

“I’ve finished,” he announced. “Is it all right if I go now?”

Miss Spencer tried to compose herself. “Erm . . . Well, it’s supposed to be typed up and handed in next week, but I suppose, as it’s such a short piece, I can make an
exception.”

Robert trooped out of the room with his rucksack slung over his shoulder. Miss Spencer turned back to Wendy, who raised her fingers to her lips and sucked them with slow deliberation, holding
her tutor’s gaze meaningfully.

At the end of the class the other students left for their lunch, hurrying from the lecture room. When everyone else had left Wendy slowly approached her tutor. She stood before the petite woman
who she lusted after and smiled down at her.

“Would you like to come to mine tomorrow afternoon?”

Miss Spencer stared into her eyes and hesitated.

“Please,” added Wendy. “Maybe we can try a little role-reversal.”

“Yes,” replied Miss Spencer in a whisper, surprising herself with her answer.

“Here’s my address.” Wendy placed a piece of paper on the desk.

The door opened and Mr Woods, the media lecturer, put his head into the room. “Are you ready for some lunch?” he asked.

Miss Spencer looked into Wendy’s eyes and then turned to her colleague, who had been unsuccessfully pursuing her for months. “Okay,” she replied, standing and collecting her
papers together.

“See you tomorrow,” said Wendy as she walked to the door, Mr Woods holding it open so she could exit.

Those three words filled Miss Spencer with excitement as she looked up at her student and smiled before Wendy disappeared from view.

Miss Spencer’s heart began to flutter, its pace increasing as she turned onto the street where Wendy lived. Not far now, she thought, feeling incredibly nervous.

Soon she was standing before a blue front door. She stared at the paint and took a deep breath. Beyond it lay the realm of the unknown, of a future yet to take shape. Beyond the door was
Wendy.

She smoothed the blue skirt over her slim hips and brushed the collar of her dark coat, flicking back her long, black hair. Her right hand rose slowly and she knocked three times. Stepping back,
she took a couple more deep breaths in a futile attempt to calm herself.

A few moments passed and her nervousness increased. Then she heard footsteps from within and the handle turned. Wendy’s smiling face greeted her as the door swung open to reveal a long
hallway decorated in soft, pastel colours with a fawn carpet and stairs rising to the left.

Wendy’s gaze took her in, moved down and then back up her body. Miss Spencer tingled, as if the appreciative look had somehow caressed her.

“Come in.” Wendy stepped away from the doorway in her thin and scanty yellow dress.

“Thanks,” she responded, walking passed her host, heart rate increasing when she heard the door closing behind her. Now it was too late for second thoughts. The teacher-pupil
relationship was soon to change forever, a change that would be for the better.

“Lets go through to the sitting room,” said Wendy, indicating a door to the right with an outstretched hand.

Miss Spencer went into the large room. A pale, mauve three piece was placed around the room and there were framed prints of sunsets on the walls.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Wendy asked from behind her, making her tutor jump slightly, her attention having been concentrated on the bookshelf on the opposite side of the
room.

“No. I’m fine thank you.”

“Did you get to finish reading my story?” Wendy moved past her and then turned to look into her eyes.

“Yes,” replied Miss Spencer.

“And?”

“On second thoughts, maybe I will have a drink. Have you got any red wine?” asked the tutor, needing something to bolster her courage.

Wendy smiled and nodded. “I’ll go and get us both a glass and then you can tell me what you thought. Make yourself comfortable.”

She left the room, Miss Spencer catching the soft scent of her mild, musky perfume. The tutor looked around the room and then sat on the cream coloured settee which was placed before the large
front window, sun pouring into the room.

She listened to the chink of glasses that drifted from the kitchen down the hall. There soon followed the sound of a bottle being uncorked and Miss Spencer felt her heartbeat increase as her
student’s return became imminent.

Wendy breezed into the sitting room with a full glass of wine in each hand. “It’s sweet and fruity, like me,” she said with a disarming grin as she held one out to her guest,
fully aware of Miss Spencer’s nervousness.

“Thanks.” The younger woman took the offered drink and immediately took a sip, hoping it would calm her down, though she thought it would probably take a few bottles to manage
that.

“So, what about my story?” asked Wendy as she sat in the armchair opposite, crossing her smooth legs. She was aroused by the presence of her tutor in her home and by the fact that
the two of them were alone and beyond any disturbances.

“Well,” began Miss Spencer, taking another sip to wet her dry mouth. “I have to admit it came as a bit of a surprise.”

“The fact that it’s erotica or that the characters were based on me and you . . . Amy?”

“Both,” admitted the tutor, a tingle running down her spine after hearing her first name uttered by Wendy’s smooth and rich voice.

“But did you like it? Did you like what our characters did?” She looked at the woman opposite her expectantly.

Amy hesitated. “Yes,” she whispered after a moment.

Wendy’s smile grew wider. “I’m glad.”

There was a moment of silence and then Wendy put her glass down on a low coffee table beside her, stood, and stepped towards the younger woman. With the immediacy of the situation making her
nervousness increase dramatically, Amy quickly stood and walked over to the bookshelf on the far side of the room. Trying to appear as natural and nonchalant as possible.

She put her glass down and began to study the spines of the works gathered there, noting the slight trembling of her hands. She ran fingers through her long hair as she tried to think of
something to say.

Then Amy heard soft footsteps drawing close. She could feel Wendy move to stand just behind her. The slight pressure of a hand on her right shoulder made her start a little, heart missing a
beat.

“Do you see anything you like?” The words were almost a whisper, Wendy’s mouth beside her left ear, the hairs on Amy’s neck brushed by soft breathing and sending shivers
down her spine.

“Well . . .” Amy’s fingertips stroked the spines of the books on the third shelf down.

“You’re trembling,” observed Wendy. “Will this be your first time with another woman?”

The motion of her hand halted immediately.

“Yes.” Amy’s eyes closed temporarily as breath caressed her neck once more. Then she looked at the books where her fingers had stilled and found that they were all works of
erotica.

“Why don’t you have a look at one of those books?” The hand resting on her shoulder began to move down her back.

Amy slid one of the volumes from amongst the others. In unsteady hands she held it before her, two entwined woman portrayed on the front cover, their clothes extremely revealing.

“Check out the second piece of fiction,” Wendy said at her shoulder, hand at the small of her back, pressing lightly, moving slowly to the top of her firm backside.

With nervous fingers, Amy awkwardly opened the front cover and checked the index. She flicked to the relevant page. “Red Wine, by. . .” Her words trailed off as the sensation of
Wendy’s lips upon her neck almost made her drop the book. The older woman’s hand moved to her backside and groped her buttocks. She sighed, head rolling back as her eyes closed.

Wendy raised her skirt with her right hand. She felt the warm air of the house against her bare legs, followed by the student’s touch upon her inner thighs.

Wendy’s arms reached round her, hands at the buttons of her navy shirt. Amy felt it loosen as her bra and smooth, pale stomach were revealed.

With a couple of tugs, Wendy pulled the shirt from her gently curved shoulders and started to kiss them. Her hands ran across Amy’s belly, traced circles and lines across it, up it, along
her sides, moving to her upper chest and the slopes of her breasts, held firmly in a black bra.

Amy dropped the book onto the edge of the bookshelf, her eyes tightly shut. Her hands moved to Wendy’s black ringlets, fingers grasping as her pleasure built. She longed to feel her
fingers and her tongue inside her. The lust was almost overpowering.

The straps of the bra were slowly slid along her arms and then it fell away. Then the zip of the skirt was pulled down and it dropped to the floor as she slipped off her shoes.

Amy now stood before the bookshelf wearing only a pair of black knickers, damp with her rising excitement. She could smell herself as Wendy’s hands grasped her breasts, squeezed hard and
then gently. A fingertip then circled each nipple, barely touching the skin, leaving a tingling in their wake, as if charged with electricity.

Her right hand moved from Wendy’s hair and she went between the legs. Pushing down on the crotch of the yellow dress, she felt the moisture of the older woman’s vagina seep through.
Like the previous day, Wendy wasn’t wearing any knickers and Amy prickled with pleasure of touching the softness of her hidden lips for the first time. The feeling of another woman’s
privates was such a sensuous thing and more erotic than she could have imagined.

She turned in Wendy’s arms and lifted her face. Their lips pressed together. The older woman’s hands stroked down her spine and tucked inside her knickers. Their tongues met and even
as Wendy pulled her mouth away from Amy’s they continued to wind about each other until the distance grew too great.

Crouching before her, Wendy pulled the panties down her legs and Amy stepped out of them. The tight curls of her dark triangle were in front of the student’s face. The scent of Amy’s
desire was strong as Wendy’s hands gripped her buttocks. She ran nails over them and down the outside of her legs. The creative writing tutor shivered and groaned as they ran down to her
ankles and then began to rise up the inside.

Leaning forward, Wendy placed her lips just above the dark pubes and kissed the soft skin. Then her tongue ran upward, circled Amy’s navel and then descended to run alongside the hair and
the top of her inner thighs.

Wendy’s fingers stroked the length of the pink, fleshy lips that glistened with moisture. Amy groaned, pushing her crotch towards the other woman with increasing urgency as she felt the
climax building. Wendy’s index and forefingers held her open. Her thumb began to rub Amy’s clitoris with a growing pressure. She licked it and then wiggled her tongue in the hole
revealed by the spreading fingers.

Wendy’s thumb gently flicked her clitoris as her tongue darted in and out of her. Amy’s breathing was heavy as her hands grasped the older woman’s head, held her hair. Her
mouth was open as the orgasm built. She began to writhe with the pleasure of the attentions and gasped as two fingers entered her.

The thought that this was one of her students added to her sexual excitement. Further adding to her pleasure was the newness of another woman giving her such sweet sensations. She’d always
known she had the potential to find fulfilment in this way, but had never had the courage to instigate such a rendezvous. Thankfully Wendy had instigated it for her and she glad the mature student
had the confidence to do so.

Wendy’s tongue was working a special kind of magic along with her fingers as they pulled out and pushed into Amy. The tutor’s muscles were filled with tremors as she tried to remain
standing. Her legs threatened to buckle as the orgasm drew ever closer and then suddenly cascaded through her body and mind. Wendy felt the added wetness and saw the tension and then release of
Amy’s body, slowing the rhythm of her fingers and tongue.

Pulling her head away from Amy, licking the tutor’s juices from her lips, Wendy continued to stroke her clitoris. Amy slowly sank to her knees and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Wendy
kissed her and she tasted herself.

“Stay right here. There’s still a lot I want to teach you,” said the mature student with a large grin on her dark face.

Amy simply smiled in response as the afterglow of the orgasm continued to make her body tremble and its warmth remained centred in her vagina.