The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica (66 page)

The older woman left the room and Amy heard her ascend the stairs. There were sounds of movement from above, the floorboards creaking slightly. Then there was a moment of silence before Amy
heard her host returning.

Her eyes widened as Wendy walked back into the sitting room. She was naked. The tutor’s gaze took in her large breasts, the nipple on the left pierced, the silver bar glinting. Her body
was curvaceous, dark skin silky and smooth.

Amy started to rise, wanted to go to the other woman and explore her nakedness.

“No. Stay there.” Wendy took her hands from behind her back and Amy saw that she was holding a red silk scarf and a couple of pieces of white cord.

Expectation built within the tutor as her eyes widened and her arousal grew quickly.

Wendy walked to where Amy knelt. “Don’t move, just let me guide you,” said the older woman, feeling a glorious and sensual freedom as she tingled beneath the other
woman’s gaze.

She gently took hold of Amy’s wrists and tied her hands behind her back. The tutor shuddered with pleasure as Wendy kissed her shoulder blades while fastening the cord.

“Stand,” whispered the older woman.

Amy rose unsteadily and stood naked beside the bookshelf, keenly feeling Wendy’s eyes upon her, finding a thrill in the simplicity of her nudity for the first time in years. Wendy’s
closeness and nakedness filled her mind, along with the continuing kisses, now moving down the left side of her body. The older woman’s lips kissed each rib in turn, moved to her hip, and
then down her leg.

The second cord was tied about her ankles, not tight, but allowing circulation and her legs to part a little. Wendy rose behind her. The mature student touched her buttocks, cupped them in her
hands and kneaded them with obvious enjoyment. Then a finger stroked between their curved sensuality and along the bottom of the tutor’s back, sending a shiver down her spine.

Wendy removed her hands and the soft luxury of the cool, silk scarf slid across Amy’s pale throat. It rose smoothly over her chin and brushed against her lips. Then it moved over her
petite nose and high cheekbones, finally coming to rest over her eyes. The scarf was tied behind her head, knot against her dark hair. She was left without sight, blind to the actions of her new
lover.

Wendy moved away from her naked captive, who heard her retrieve something from the bookshelf. The sound of rushing blood roared in Amy’s ears as she came up behind her. The older
woman’s breath settled between her shoulder blades and sent yet another shiver down her spine. She felt her hands move to either side of her head. Then Wendy inserted two spongy earplugs and
Amy was left with only the sound of her heart and desperate blood. Every part of her body prickled as she suffered the sensory deprivation. Her skin tingled in expectancy as she waited for
Wendy’s touch.

One of the student’s fingers ran across Amy’s glossed lips, which tingled with sensitivity as it then moved across her cheek and traced lines down her neck. Wendy’s tongue ran
across her back, licked down her spine. It ran over her buttocks, followed their tight curves inward. Then it entered her from behind as the older woman’s nails ran delicately over her hips,
through her pubes, into the wetness that awaited as a new orgasm beckoned.

Then, suddenly, all physical contact was ended. She could still feel Wendy’s closeness, but the tempting touches and kisses were gone. In her world without sight or sound she relied on
some primal sense of her presence. It made the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stand on end as she waited for the next caress.

Amy sensed Wendy move in front of her. She exhaled sharply through the silk covering her mouth as hands took hold of her breasts and played with them roughly. Her breathing was heavy as her
second orgasm continued to build.

Wendy’s hand pushed between her legs, rubbed against her hidden lips, made her hotter than she’d ever been before as she stood bound and blindfolded, without anything but interior
sounds and sensations. The mature student’s body was pressed to her, the two women’s breasts pushed against each other, Amy feeling the initial coldness of the nipple piercing, its
touch adding to the pleasure of the moment. Their nakedness, their sensual union, was intensified by the tutor’s helplessness. The orgasm drew closer.

Wendy’s left hand went to her arse, groped it and pulled her onto her other hand as the older woman’s fingers moved inside. Amy could feel every motion of those fingers, however
slight. Without her sight or hearing all that was left was the warm body against hers and the writhing, plunging fingers filling her with erotic fire.

The orgasm exploded through her. If Wendy hadn’t held her on her feet Amy would have collapsed. She felt weak, every muscle trembling and without energy. The orgasm consumed her. There was
nothing else as she sighed and hung limply in her arms.

Wendy moved her fingers with decreasing speed, keeping them inside the tutor, adding gentler motions to enhance the strong echoes of orgasm’s flush. They sank to the carpet together and
lay there for a few moments, Wendy’s hands then reaching behind Amy and undoing the bonds that held hers together.

Amy put her arms around the woman who had now taught her a new dimension in the pleasure her body could bring. They kissed as Wendy pulled the blindfold over and off her head and then took out
the earplugs.

“Did you enjoy your first time?” asked the older woman.

“I loved it. You’re a great teacher and if that’s the way you teach then you can put me down for the entire course.” Amy smiled.

“In that case I’ll always teach you like this.” Wendy paused. “You’ve taught me a lot as well, you know.” A grin spread across her face as she looked at
Amy’s glowing features.

Wendy rose and stepped over to the bookshelf. She selected one of the books, another collection of erotic stories, and took it from the shelf.

“This has only recently been published,” she commented while settling back beside Amy, who undid the bonds about her ankles.

Wendy flicked to a specific page, looked at the younger woman with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, and then passed her the book. “My writing has come on in leaps and bounds thanks to
you, and my confidence in it has grown too.” She smiled. “I sent a couple of pieces off and . . .” Wendy nodded towards the open book that Amy was holding.

The creative writing tutor looked down and began to read aloud. “ ’Erotic Fantasy’ by Wendy Stone.” Her eyes widened. “. . . Miss Spencer’s heart began to
flutter, its pace increasing as she turned onto the street where Wendy lived.”

Amy looked at the other woman in surprise.

“I’ve been fantasizing about what’s just happened since I first laid eyes on you,” explained Wendy. “It’s like the other erotic story I wrote using us as the
characters, apart from the fact I always hoped this one would come true.”

“I’m glad it did,” replied Amy. “And maybe we can make the other story became a reality too.”

Wendy nodded. “I’d like that.”

“So would I,” said Amy, taking Wendy into her arms.

The women kissed, eyes closing as they savoured the sensations of their entwined nakedness, fiction having become truth in the narrative of their lives.

My Room with a View

Janey Maurice

Whoever decided exams should be sat in the summer needs shooting. Being banished to my room in the attic whilst the rest of the family lounged around the house and garden
without a care or commitment, made me want to scream. But if I did, no one would hear me. I longed to be splashing in the paddling pool with my kid sisters; I’d even endure sitting with my
mother, helping her write her weekly column for the Gazette rather than list the arguments for and against religion in the 21st century for my Sociology paper.

The slightest diversion fascinated me and recently I’d found the most compelling distraction of all. Trying to let some air into my stuffy garret, I’d been leaning out of the roof
top window when I found the perfect view of a piece of our neighbour’s garden which had previously been totally unexposed. She obviously thought it was private as she lay in the nude trying
to get an all-over tan.

This neighbour hadn’t really interested me before. If asked to describe her, I’d have found it difficult. She was that sort of age which isn’t relevant to an eighteen-year-old:
too old to be my friend and too young to be my mother’s friend. Her hair was the proverbial mousy brown and her clothes a bit school teacherish, if I was honest. I think we’d probably
spoken to each other all of three or four times. Words, such as, “Cold, isn’t it?” or “Have they put my newspaper through your door?”

But there was something very appealing about her nakedness. Maybe it was because she didn’t know I was seeing her like that. The secretiveness excited me. I’d never seen anyone
outside our family without their clothes before and I have to say she looked far better out of hers than in them. She was much slimmer than I’d have thought, almost boy-like. She certainly
didn’t have what my father would call “child-bearing hips”, but that was probably because she didn’t have any children. Her tummy was totally flat – even when she
wasn’t lying down on her sun bed – and her breasts were small but with amazingly long, dark nipples. The first time I’d spotted her, she’d been rubbing sun cream over them
and even from my far-off viewpoint, way up in the loft, I’d been fascinated by how they’d seemed to grow as she massaged the cream into her skin.

I felt stirrings in my crotch as I waited eagerly to see what would happen next but nothing did. After about ten minutes she turned over and then she fell asleep. Grumpily, I went back to my
books but I couldn’t get the image of her nipples out of my mind.

Did I have lesbian tendencies? I asked myself. It wasn’t a question I’ve ever contemplated before. I’d had a crush on Gemma Cotton, a Year 11 girl, when I’d started at
the High, but then I’d also fancied several boys, too. And I’d definitely lusted after Leonardo di Caprio in
Titanic,
Kate Winslet leaving me cold. However, from then on the
first thing I’d do on entering my room would be to open the window to see if she was lying in the sun. I’d get quite moody if it was an overcast day.

It didn’t occur to me that my neighbour might be a lesbian. I’d never seen her with a partner, man or woman, so it was quite a find on the Sunday before my calculus paper when I
leaned out the window and saw a female friend sitting on the lawn next to the sun bed. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they were chatting together and occasionally they’d
laugh. They were drinking something alcoholic and chilled; I’d seen them emptying an ice tray into a jug of what looked as if it might be Pimms. My neighbour was semi-clad in knickers and a
pair of flip-flops. Her friend was wearing a skimpy sundress.

I knew I must revise, so I’d make myself do a page then treat myself to a glimpse at the window. It was after my third page that the calculus completely disappeared from my mind. My
neighbour was lying face down on her sun bed and her friend was rubbing sun cream into her back and shoulders. She then picked up each of her feet and massaged it onto her soles and in between each
toe, taking such care, as if she’d be sacked from her job if she missed a fraction of skin. Next she worked her way up the calves and thighs. I was willing her to turn my neighbour over
because I really wanted to see her rubbing the cream into her tits, when something even more interesting happened.

She pulled her knickers off and I watched her begin to stroke her bum cheeks with the lotion. And then she started kneading the cheeks quite hard by the look of it and I could see my neighbour
raising her bum up and then pushing it down as if she was grinding into the cushion. I wished I could see more clearly – it looked as if her friend’s fingers were pushing between her
bum crack and up into her fanny – but as I leaned as far as I dared out of the window they both got up from the bed and lawn and went indoors.

My whole body was on fire. I pulled my dress off and stared at myself in the mirror to see if I was as flushed as I felt. What I did see was a pair of soaking wet knickers. I put my hand to the
sticky material and pressed it to my mound and immediately felt a small shudder. I’d never watched myself have an orgasm before. I slipped my hand inside my soaking pants and felt for my
clitoris that was fully engorged and poking through my pubic hair. It felt as big as my neighbour’s nipple and, as I rubbed it, I imagined I had her nipple in my fingers. I watched as my face
contorted into a strange expression of pain and pleasure.

From that moment onwards I knew I had to have sex with this woman and I spent every waking minute playing out various scenarios in which we would meet up and she’d seduce me. When it did
actually happen it wasn’t at all as I’d planned and it began with what could only be called a disaster.

I’d had a grotty day at college and an even grottier journey home. I’d narrowly missed my train and when I eventually caught the next one it was full of commuters. I’d had to
stand all the way, sandwiched between two pinstripes who obviously hadn’t bathed for a week. I was desperate for a wee but couldn’t even begin to push my way through the packed corridor
to find a vacant loo and at the station the toilets were closed for cleaning. When I got home, I couldn’t find my key and no one was there to let me in. Tears of frustration were in my eyes
as I went to my neighbour’s house and rang her bell. These soon turned to real tears as she didn’t answer. Standing there, wondering what to do, I pushed my fist hard against my mound,
willing myself not to wet myself.

I could feel the pee start its first warm trickle as I took a step away from the door when she finally opened it. So there we were; our first meeting of any importance, and she was standing
looking cross because she’d obviously had to hurriedly put clothes on to come in from the garden to answer the bell. And I was standing facing her on her doorstep with pee gushing all over
it. There was nothing I could do to stop myself.