Despite dropping out of university I managed somehow to get a job as a copywriter in the head office of what was the largest advertising agency in the world for a time, Saatchi and Saatchi. It was 2015 and I was nineteen. London was still 'awash with money' and it was fun place to work and live, especially in an industry like advertising. I was constantly 'star struck' with the engaging and glamorous people I met and the fabulous clubs, pubs, restaurants and parties I got to go to through work.

Although I was sexually very inexperienced and rather naïve, I realised that most of the men at these events were friendly towards me mainly for one reason, they wanted to fuck me. When I had started at the agency the HR lady had explained that the culture is very male orientated and that girls like me are often looked on as 'cannon fodder.'

"Just a friendly tip" she'd said as we completed my two day induction programme. "Do everything to keep you knickers on and don't give it away easily or too frequently. Reputations are easy to loose and terribly hard to get back."

It was god advice and I made a vow to not let any of the guys at work get too close to me and certainly, I promised myself, none would fuck me. After I had been there for about six months and was getting on well I had managed, just about to keep that vow, well the second part. Still no one had fucked me, but I had to admit that a couple had kissed and groped me and one of the senior account managers had got my tits out of my bra in his locked office after a client party. Career-wise, things were progressing very well. I was writing copy for a few small, mainly print ads and was acting as deputy copywriter on a large whisky account. It was challenging, but exciting.

I went on my first shoot for a commercial for that account. It was mainly shot outside rather than in a studio where it would be finished off. I couldn't believe how many of us there were on the shoot. There were, effectively, three teams; the agency people, the film crew and the production and direction team. There must have been at least twenty of us in Scotland, for four days

We were filming in just outside Perth and were staying on a hunting and fishing complex that had a number of lodges scattered around a central reception, bar and restaurant. Each cabin was quite luxurious some being one bedroomed and others two or three. We had just about finished and were having a sort of wrap party in the bar of the complex on the last night of shooting even though I as the junior and a couple of others were staying on for most of the next day to tidy things up. The rest of the crew and agency people were leaving early the next day to get back to London. We had been advised to 'glam' up a bit and I was wearing a red, short sleeved, shift dress with, of course, quite large, Dynasty type shoulder pads. It was made from a thin clingy material, had a scooped front so my smallish boobs created a nice cleavage and it ended fashionably about six inches above my knee. As we were in Scotland in October it was cold so I was wearing black tights.

With an early start for most people, it was a rather lack-lustre party for they just wanted to get to bed and set off home. Before that, though, we all had dinner together and I found myself next to Marcia. She was the director, a very powerful person on a shoot. She was also known to be one of the best in London and was quite famous in the ad industry at the time. She was in her mid-thirties at least. Very slim, and just about my height with an almost boy like figure she had jet black hair cut in a short bob around her chin line and very dark, large, mysteriously probing eyes. She was very powerful and authoritative around the shoot hurling as much abuse at the senior art directors as she did at the cameramen when they screwed things up. She had no hesitation whatsoever in using both the 'f' and 'c' words in front of everyone, but then in the ad world such swearing was commonplace even with women present, something I was not at all used to.

I, obviously knew her from the shoot, but hadn't chatted to her much up until then. At the dinner she was very attentive asking me loads of questions about my job and career aspirations, about why I'd left uni., about the agency and boy-friends. She was surprisingly easy to talk to and I found myself a little in awe of her and the fact that such a senior person in the industry was bothering with a young, junior copywriter like me.

I drank quite a bit as I thought everyone had and was laughing and joking at her witty and rather sacrilegious views on the ad industry. She told me about her production company and how that had enabled her to have a house in Hampstead and an apartment in Marbella, to drive a Porsche and to have a boat. I had heard rumours of her possible lesbian tendencies, but then the guys gossiped about most women who were either 'right slags,' 'real goers' or 'lessies,' this was well before PC reared its ugly head. Hence, when her attention became a bit closer than with straight woman I was a little scared, but also hugely flattered. After all she was an older, experienced woman, a luminary in the ad industry and a very striking and, I suppose, sexy woman. But there was nothing in my experience to call upon, I had no idea how to handle her or what to do. So when she rested her fingertips on my wrist a couple of times or placed her hand on my shoulder to emphasise points I didn't flinch or move away for I had no idea what to do. When she turned her head, which accentuated her long, slender neck, and looked at me she held my gaze probably longer than was needed. Although my womanly instincts told me one thing, I wasn't at all sure that I was even reading the situation correctly; after all creative people are very 'touchy feely.' I may even, I suppose, have looked her in the eyes and held her gaze as she did mine. I didn't know for sure that they were attempts to check me out for they were only fleeting moments so I just ignored them and did nothing to overtly indicate whether I would be interested or not. In any case, I thought, she probably wouldn't be interested in a kid like me and in all probability the touches were her just her being a bit lovey as many in the film industry are. But when she leaned back and let her hand fall on the seat of my chair so that it brushed against my bottom I wasn't quite so sure.

Dinner broke up and a number of the more junior members adjourned to the very small bar. I was in a corner at the end of the bar sitting on a stool when Marcia and most of 'brass' came in making the bar even more crowded. She stood at the bar and bought everyone drinks edging a little closer to me as people picked theirs up. When the serving was finished she stood half in front of me leaning back against the bar her body shielding my legs from the others view. The rather short skirt had ridden well up my thighs so quite a lot of my legs were on view. Everyone was talking and laughing and having a roaring time when I felt something on my knee. I looked down and saw her hand moving away. Another accident or an overt gesture, I wondered still not being sure?

It happened again a few minutes later and then a third time. What she was doing was seemingly accidentally just letting her hand fall down so that if we wanted it could be seen as an inadvertent gesture. A mistake I suppose. But what I felt was becoming clear was that they were not mistakes. Especially when on the fourth time the back of her hand ran all the way up my leg from the knee to the bottom of the skirt. A little panicky I looked around to make sure no one could see but was reassured on that for Marcia had, if anything, moved more in front of me blocking my legs completely from anyone's view.

Still, though, she was acting if nothing was happening, turning from chatting to me stuck in the corner and other members of the crew across the bar separating what she was doing to me from them. Still, though, there was nothing too overt and I realised that she was still making sure that there was a way out without her losing face for now she had both her hands wrapped around her brandy glass and was asking me about my job at Saatchi's as if nothing at all was happening. But then as a group of the crew burst into loud laughter at probably some really filthy joke she turned to look at them so that her back was towards me. I watched her hand once more slip down and behind her. This time it did not brush my nylon covered leg. This time it was not a quick or surreptitious movement. No this time I watched as the perfectly manicured, white, square cut nails stretched over the fleshy part of my leg just above my knee and I saw the fingers encircle it. They lingered there squeezing gently. There was no way that this could be anything other than a very obvious caress; a suggestive gesture and an invitation to me.

I didn't know what to do. I was excited and flattered at her attention. I was, though, slightly alarmed and concerned. I was well outside my comfort zone and area of familiarity. This was clearly big girl's stuff. It was beyond the messing around with boys that my short sex life had experienced. It was also with someone who had the reputation of possibly being lesbian, even though she was married and had children. I didn't look at myself as having such tendencies. I was also a little confused by the drink and the party atmosphere. Confused for sure, but also very excited and I have to admit aroused. Sitting there on that stool my skirt above mid-thigh looking down and seeing Marcia's fingers, almost idly now, gently touching my leg some eight inches above my knee I just didn't know how to react. I didn't know what I wanted to happen or what I thought might happen or indeed if anything would happen. My heart was beating and my mind was racing as I simply stared at that hand and those tempting, suggestive fingers on my leg.

I could move and I guess no face would be lost. I could slip, off the stool, go to the loo, join another group or move away so that I would show I wasn't interested. Or I could, perhaps, place my hand on hers showing that I was interested, maybe press my leg more firmly or even touch her back to show that I was receptive to her. I knew that I couldn't do that for I was not particularly attracted to her, at least not on a sexual level. In the end I took the line of least resistance. I did nothing. I did nothing to encourage or deter her. I in fact put the ball firmly back in her court, or so I thought.

Marcia was, though, clearly too experienced to be put off or discouraged by such a simple gesture. No she'd been here before I reckoned. She knew what to do. She must have recognised something in me, some signs or signals. I had no idea that I had transmitted any sign of either, being bi, interested in her or being available. She must have known that somehow she'd primed me, built me up perfectly, maybe aroused my interest and reduced my resistance.

She immediately recognised the signal I was transmitting about events now being back in her court. And she was able, ready and so eager to return it right back in mine. After a moment or two instead of just removing her hand she slid it up my legs briefly letting her fingers go under the hem of my skirt and giving the inside of my thigh a little squeeze. There was absolutely no way that could be a mistake and that gesture could be nothing but a come on, a request, an asking for something from me. Turning she stared right into my eyes and with a look of relief, pleasure and assurance on her face she smiled and raised her thin eyebrows. I did nothing, but smiled back. I think it was then that she felt she had got me. I just couldn't think. I didn't know what to do or even think. I had no clear idea on what I was feeling or what I wanted. I couldn't recall ever really having a lesbian feeling in my life. I had never wondered what another girl or woman looked like naked and I had never had a strong urge to kiss or be kissed by another female. Yet here I was sitting on a bar stool as a much older woman than me made an overt lesbian gesture towards me. I suppose by sitting there as her fingertips ran along the hem of my skirt I was accepting her invitation. But what was the invitation to I wondered in my slightly tipsy state?

The party started breaking up shortly after that and following the usual rather exaggerated kisses and hugs. I should have left with the other agency personnel, but something stopped me. There were only four or five of the film unit left with Marcia and me. The others were sitting round the fire in easy chairs with Marcia standing with them. They were finishing a bottle of the local single malt. I was still where I had been all evening in the corner by the bar. I had remained sitting on the stool and forgetfully I had not pulled my skirt down so it was now almost up to my crutch. Fortunately, in some ways, tights provide a woman with security and to an extent, protection. It seems far more reasonable to show most of your legs when in tights than with bare legs or when wearing stockings. That's why I guess we tend to 'flash our pins' more when wearing them, that and knowing almost whatever happens our panties will not be exposed through the nylon, particularly if they are the same colours and mine were, black.

Marcia turned, looked at me, smiled and raised her whisky glass. She mouthed what looked like 'salute' said something to the guys and walked over to me. I was hellishly nervous as she came up close to me and bought me another drink. She smiled at me very confidently and said lightly.

"Your place or mine Amanda?" I stammered out that I didn't know and she said. "Why don't you make your goodbyes now and wait in your cabin for me? I'll only be twenty minutes or so."

Almost transfixed with the situation and the awe I suppose of firstly being so comprehensively 'pulled' and secondly by such a rich, famous and glamorous woman wanting me I did as she said. As I said my good nights to the camera crew I hardly thought about what I was doing. It didn't really hit me that I had just accepted a lesbian advance and that I had agreed to her visiting my room presumably for us to have sex. It also didn't occur to me that the four guys might have realised what was happening between Marcia and me as equally I didn't even consider that this might be quite the norm for her.

In the room, though, the nerves really set in and I didn't know what to do. I wondered for a moment if I was dreaming and I would wake up. Could this really be happening? Could a mature and worldly-wise, successful woman like Marcia really want me? But more to the point, I realised, could a young, rather sexually naïve junior in an ad agency, with absolutely no bi experience and no previous desires to have sex with another woman, be receptive to such a situation. Smiling to myself as I recalled the feel of Marcia's fingers on my leg, I realised that yes she could be receptive for accompanying the nerves was a tingling all over my skin, a heat in my tummy and fullness in my breasts, which seemed to feel so heavy and warm. I recognised that I was sexually aroused and that Marcia was causing that.

But I didn't know what to do. I had no experience bank to call on. I'd never had sex in a hotel only in a guy's flat, my bed at home once and a few times in a car. I had never had to wait in my room for 'my lover' and of course I had never been in a position where sex with another woman was the only agenda item.

But However, what was done was done. I had gone with the flow with her and I now had either, to accept it, get on with it and presumably be fucked by her or, I had to get out of the situation I had let myself be put in. With the alcohol perhaps playing more of a part in my decision-making process than it really should, I didn't pick up the house phone, I didn't go back to the bar, I didn't lock my door. Instead I wondered what I should do in preparation for my tryst with Marcia. I think I was beginning to accept that I would have a bi experience with her. And as that acceptance dawned on me I found a calmness in my thinking and I began to think rationally. I knew several girls at the agency and the tennis club who 'dallied' with other woman to some extent, I read about it in Cosmo and knew that what was being called lipstick lesbianism, one feminine woman being attracted to another feminine female was becoming more and more popular. I had also read that it wasn't like coke or H and that by having sex with another woman you didn't automatically become a full on les. As far as I could I relaxed and began to think 'what should I do?'

Should I shower perhaps or maybe undress and get into bed? I couldn't do that, though, because it would mean leaving the door open. Maybe I should take my outer clothes off and slip into a robe but then I thought that was a little false so perhaps naked under it. But that seemed to me to be a little too much and might make me appear too eager and too easy. Possibly I should have a bath and greet her wrapped in a towel my hair still wet but that seemed just silly. So instead I settled for a quick wash, changed my knickers, got dressed, but left the tights off and waited.

Time seemed to drag so much, but looking at my watch I saw that I'd been there only ten minutes. I wandered around the bedroom and the small lounge wondering what the hell this would bring. This promised to be so different to anything I had previously experienced. This was proper grown up woman's stuff. I was playing with the big girls. I recognised that I had been picked up so relatively easily. It was as if she had absolutely no doubt that I would go along with her advances. She was, of course, correct for I was now waiting expectantly for her to come to my bedroom and make love to me. And I wanted that, I think. My body and emotions that she had been toying with all evening were now attuned to her and what would happen. Were they really, could that really be true. Fuck I didn't know.

After half an hour she still wasn't there and I started to think perhaps I had got it all wrong. But I couldn't have, could I? She had clearly told me to wait for her. Surely I wasn't drunk and had imagined it or had got the message wrong. No, the touches at the dinner table, the almost caress like placing of her fingertips on my wrist and shoulder and the more overt touches on my bottom had happened and surely were not accidents. Then there was the holding of my gaze just that little longer than was necessary and of course the overtly sexual way that she had slid her fingertips up the inside of my thigh and beneath the hem of my skirt all told me that there was no mistake. And of course the 'your place or mine' question was to me at least conclusive evidence that I hadn't mistaken what she had done for innocent 'mistakes' or had I? Time drifted on until I had been there almost forty five minutes and still no visit or even a phone call.

I was just about to give up and go to bed when I heard the light tap on the door.

"Fucking room service," she snarled holding up two bottles of champagne and glasses. "A girl could die waiting for them."

She marched in as if it were her own room and stood by a table putting the champagne down on that as she gabbled on telling me that she just couldn't get rid of one of the cameramen. "Sorry luv but I could hardly say that I had to hurry to get to Amanda's room for she's waiting there for me could I?"

I laughed and said. "No I suppose you couldn't."

She had changed from the brown, leather trousers and bright yellow shirt of earlier and was now wearing a full length, quite tight, black dress. Her hair was rather more slicked back than usual and she was wearing a very pale foundation on her face making it look almost translucent in the dim lighting. She had applied dark red, almost crimson lipstick on her what I noted were thin lips. I almost smiled when I thought she looks like a vampire.

"So Amanda," she said confidently. "Were you thinking that I might not come to you?"

I admitted that it had crossed my mind and I let slip that I was just about to give up and go to bed. With a very assured smile on her face and her eyes glinting she said.

"Actually my dear that might have been a very good idea for I wouldn't have had to undress you then would I? You would have been wonderfully naked for me wouldn't you? You would, Amanda, have been absolutely ready for me to make love to you wouldn't you?"

Her words crashed into my mind and any minor reservations I had just simply evaporated. Her total assumption that I was so under her spell and her sophisticated assurance and confidence just overwhelmed me. As I heard the words and saw her eyes devouring me I simply melted. I knew at that moment that I was hers to do with as she wished.

And it was obvious that she knew it as well for she was playing with me, toying with me, like a cat does with a mouse. She knew that she had me dangling on the end of a piece of string and I guessed she knew that I had emotionally totally capitulated to her.

I was sitting in a low chair my skirt almost up to a level where my panties would be on view and she was standing her bottom wedged against the table leaning back her ankles crossed. It was a pose of such assurance and control that I knew that I was completely out of my depth. I tried to say something about me not being very experienced. Why? I have no idea but she replied.

"I couldn't give a fuck Amanda. You have a gorgeous face, a body to die for and legs that go right up to your arse. I want to fuck you so badly that my body hurts."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did people really talk like that especially woman to woman? But of course they did, she had just uttered them and she clearly meant them.

We looked at each other for a moment or two and then she stood up straight her legs apart her hands going behind her neck. Holding my gaze she fumbled for a moment as she went on.

"Yes Amanda from the moment I first saw you I have wanted you. From the first time I clapped eyes on you I have wanted to capture you and do the rudest things to you. I have wanted to see you naked and to worship your glorious body. Your magnificent breasts, the flatness of your stomach and the roundness of your arse. I have yearned to see you and feel you and touch you. I have lain awake imagining you in my bed with my face between your legs lapping at that fountain that I just know flows so easily and so fully."

I could feel myself being hypnotised by her erotically eloquent phrasing and the confidence she had. The sheer assumptiveness that because she wanted me that I would capitulate, excited and appalled me. Was I that that transparent and that easy? As her words tumbled around my brain and her eyes bored into mine I thought she must be well practiced at seducing other woman to even think of saying such things to me. But they had exactly the effect I assume she was hoping for because they made me feel so bloody horny and receptive to her that I would have done anything. And as she said those remarkable words so even more incredibly exciting things began to happen.

Her fingers that had been fumbling behind her neck suddenly released her dress that then simply slid down her body. Getting caught momentarily on her nipples that she overcame with a shrug of her body she was suddenly standing before me in just a pair of high heeled shoes and a pair of long, black, self-support stockings. Her body was so slim and had hardly any curves, the only really womanly thing about her being her dark, large areolas. Dark and very round they were capped by very protruding nipples that looked just like two acorns jutting out from as small a pair of breasts as it was probably possible to have. But despite that she simply oozed sex. She exuded an earthiness that I had never encountered before and she accompanied that with such a dominating demeanour that I felt totally under her control.

And then I saw that she was shaved. I had never seen a woman that was bald in that area and was surprised really at how visible and how violently scarlet were the lips of her vagina. Did it thrill me? Did the sight of her sex excite me? No not the vision, but certainly the symbolic intimacy and the fact that she had clearly done that in a calculated way presumably to pleasure herself and her lovers, including me I realised with a jolt, most certainly did.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looking at me with that slightly superior smile said.

"Now Amanda I want you to take your clothes off for me and do that nice and slowly."

In any other circumstances I would probably have resisted doing that for I had never stripped off in front of anyone before. But in these circumstance with this older, woman sitting on my bed almost naked it seemed natural, ok and just about the perfect thing to do. It was not to flaunt myself to a potential male lover it was to bare myself for what was surely going to be my lesbian lover. That, if anything, made it even more exciting. But it was not just the sexual excitement that made me stand up and obediently undo the buttons above the waist on my dress. It was the spell she was casting over me. I felt so under her control, so directed by her, so, I suppose, dominated by her that she could have persuaded me to do anything she wanted.

Leaning back her arms behind her supporting her, one knee crossed over the other she appeared to be totally relaxed and completely assured. She must have known the effect she had on girls like me and she played that to the full. Her eyes roaming over me, a little superior sort of smile on her lips she just sat there saying things like.

"Yes that's just right, very nice Amanda," or. "Mmm lovely breasts my dear," as the top of the dress fell down round my waist. I reached behind me to unclip my bra. "Slow dear, slow," she whispered, "take your time as I am going to when I make such incredible love to you."

I knew that she was using the words to mesmerize and captivate me, but I could do nothing about it. I was putty in her hands and completely under her spell.

As I did remove my bra slowly trying to do it as I'd seen strippers in films so she continued with her torrent of the most erotic and hypnotizing words and phrases that I had ever heard. As I held the undone bra in front of my breasts for a moment or two and then slowly let it fall to the floor so I heard.

"Oh yes my dear, breasts that are so full and firm, breasts that just ache for my touch, breasts that are so soft and just waiting for me."

I was a little taken aback at her description of my boobs for I was only a B cup, but then when compared to hers mine were enormous!

As I dropped my hands from my fully naked breasts so words like:

"Amanda you have such beautiful nipples. They are so hard for me. They are just ready for me," poured all over me almost making me shudder with desire. She went on as I started to undo the short zip at the back of my dress. "Yes Amanda nipples that are just yearning for me to chew and suck them and bite and kiss them." As I started to ease the skirt down the incredible speech continued. "Yes nipples that I will chew on Amanda until I have you screaming for more. You will do that Amanda I promise. I will arouse your body so much that you will beg me for release. You will plead with me to make you cum."

My hands were shaking so much at both the words and the sheer assurance this woman had that I could hardly fumble my dress, off but somehow I managed it and slowly let it fall down my legs. And still she kept talking.

"Mmmm got rid of those ghastly tights I see so I can see your slender legs. Legs that you will open for me, legs that I will get my face between and legs you'll wrap round me. Yes I will lick and kiss every part of you, every inch of your body, every mound and crevice. Nowhere will escape my dear as I take you to heights of sexual joy you have never experienced."

I couldn't escape the words and the more she said so the more mesmerising they became and the more captivated I became. Now in just my panties she went on. "Yes I will adore your breasts, I will ravish your nipples, I will arouse your pussy, I will chew your clitoris and I will worship your arse. I will do that and more to you Amanda until you beg me to release you, so that you can cum like you've never cum before."

"No leave them on," she said rather sharply as I slid my hands into the waistband of the bikini pants that were fashionable at the time. "Leave them on, for when I start to fuck you I want to see you in those gorgeous little knickers and I want to take them off so I can stare at your cunt as they come away."

Even the turn towards the cruder language, that I don't usually like, did not have an adverse effect. In some ways it just made her hold over me stronger and I felt my body quivering as, firstly, she blatantly ran her hand over her breasts, then pinched both of her nipples and then touched herself between her legs that she uncrossed slowly just as Sharon Stone was to do in a film some years later.

I watched in a trance-like stillness as Marcia stood and walked towards me. She had that almost arrogant stride of a ballet dancer but she wasn't wearing those flat shoes, no hers were black patent high heeled stilettos. I assumed that she was going to take me in her arms and kiss me but no she walked behind me. And then I felt her slim body against my back and her hands reaching around me and cupping my breasts. She squeezed them and pinched my nipples quite strongly as she ground herself against me. It was enjoyable yet slightly weird for I really felt that I wanted to be cuddled and coaxed into sex. But that was clearly not Marcia's style. No she was doing exactly as she pleased precisely what gave her pleasure and that seemed to be using me as her plaything. Held like that I was helpless but cannot say I was not excited for I was, enormously. The feeling of her body against my back, her mound on my bottom and her hands on my breasts was so powerful and so different to what I'd experienced with the three men, well two boys and one man, with whom I'd had sex.

With them it had been mutual with each of us finding our way in giving and receiving pleasure from the other. Now though, Marcia was taking me to a different level. To a level I had no idea existed, for how could I? The way she was taking exactly what she wanted from me and taking for granted that I would give was a totally new experience to me. She was, though, absolutely correct for the helplessness I felt imprisoned in her arms, the way that she was dominating me with no real consideration for my feelings and the exquisite excitement she was creating in me all combined to make me feel, at one point, as if I would faint.

She pushed me towards the writing desk across the room and made me lean forward so that I had to support myself by holding onto the desk with my hands. I was half bent over at the waist. She took hold of me at the fleshy part of my hips her fingernails digging into the softness and then ground herself against the base of my spine. She started to simulate the movements a man would make was he penetrating me from the rear.

It felt as though she was actually fucking me, as though it was a man up me. But of course she wasn't even in me but the sensations I got from her bare, shaven crotch on my bottom were so similar that I started grinding myself back against her. I didn't quite cum, but I was so near and I so wanted her to give and take more from me. I felt her stop and her body lay on mine her hands once more cradling my breasts. She was wrapped around me her small breasts pressing on my back the fronts of her nylon covered legs against the backs of my naked ones. One of them slid between mine and she pressed upwards forcing my legs apart, quite wide. I felt her slithering down me, her hands once more gripping, this time even more tightly, the womanly excess on my hips. She was kneeling behind me her face level with my bottom. She forced my legs even wider apart and I felt her tongue just above the low waist band of my panties as one of her hands ran up the inside of my opened thighs and pressed hard against the gusset that was now inevitably absolutely soaked. Her tongue and lips were now moving all over my panties biting, kissing and licking as they moved ever closer to the crease in my bottom. Almost, no actually totally, unceremoniously I felt her thrust the lace to one side so that the two cheeks which, due to my legs being so widely open, were stretched apart. And then her tongue was on me. There was little hesitation or foreplay with her. No she had decided that she was going to lick my arse and that is exactly what she did.

No one had done that before. Yes the older guy had touched me there with his fingers, but at that stage of my sexual education, it still struck me as something of a taboo place. Taboo it may have been but in my state of heightened arousal and the sheer control she had over me it was also a place of untapped sensation, thrills and excitement. Her tongue probed against the restraining muscle and may well have gone some way into me as her hand stroked and rubbed all round my lips and on my clitoris. I was totally gone and low moans, and deep sighs and grunts were coming from my mouth as an almighty explosion erupted inside me.

"I'm Cumming from having my arse licked," one side of my mind told me as the other said just enjoy it. I felt my legs giving way and I sunk to my knees but Marcia held onto me so all that meant was that I was now on all fours my bottom in the air. I felt her grip the panties then I heard the tearing sound as she ripped them off me baring all of my most womanly places to her. It seemed so wonderfully rude and wantonly abandoned to have my knickers torn from me so that my lesbian lover could more easily get her tongue up my cunt and it just served to thrill and excite me even more.

And still she didn't stop. Lying slightly on one side on the floor of the room my head pressed against the leg of the table my legs wide open and the shreds of my panties still around one thigh her face went directly between my legs. Again there was no preamble, no asking permission. No, everything was taken for granted. She assumed I would not demur and she was right. I couldn't have had I wanted to for she had so inflamed my body and had taken such a strong control of my emotions that I was hers to do anything with that she wanted.

It was the first time a woman's tongue had touched me there and was only the second or maybe third one of any gender. I was in a sort of manic heaven. I didn't know what was happening to me or really just what she was doing to me. Kneeling over me, her mouth on my clit and pussy, her hands and fingers between my legs and all over my bum, I had the most extreme sensations roaring through me from so many sources. I did realise, though, that a finger had slid into my anus but, as that was accompanied by two, three or even four in my vagina and her mouth on my clitoris the pain, if there was any, and the significance of me losing my anal virginity were lost in the cacophony of all those other sensations.

As Marcia stimulated me in so many places and so many different ways she inevitably gave me an orgasm. It was only as that broke over me that I realised that I had probably never been made to fully cum before. The intensity, power and length of the climax she gave me was so much more than even the thirty two year old who I had thought was great with sex had given me that all past orgasms palled into insignificance.

Half on my front and half on my side, squashed up against the legs of the writing desk over which I had just been fucked I was in a distraught state. Marcia's chest was pressed against my arm and back, one of her legs was drawn up and was pushed between mine. One of her hands was squeezing my breasts and the other was between my legs her fingers stroking my pussy lips. My ripped panties were still round my thigh, my long, unkempt, chestnut coloured hair was all over the place, I was sobbing and tears were streaming down my face. Whether they were with pleasure, guilt, arousal or whatever I had no idea. All I did know was that I had just experienced something of awesome proportions; I guess it was almost in comparison to what the world learned when the first atomic bombs were detonated.

"Was it wonderful Amanda? Was it what I promised?" She asked running her hands lightly over my body.

"Oh Marcia" I groaned.

"What darling?" she asked lifting my hair and gently kissing and licking my neck.

"It was amazing."

"Good I am pleased you liked it. Now come to bed."

She helped me up and when we were both standing she put her arms round me, pulled me to her and kissed me long, deep and wonderfully. I forgot that she was woman, I forgot that this was so new for me and I forgot that I was having lesbian sex. It didn't matter, it was of no significance that we were of the same gender, that seemed irrelevant for what we were doing was so wonderful.

She slowly moved me to the bed. We lay down still in each other's arms kissing and licking the other's face. She felt so soft and smooth against me. She was like a boy in some ways for she didn't have the curves that my burgeoning figure was developing, her bum was small, there was little flare around her hips and she had hardly any flesh on her boobs. There was no hair anywhere and no harshness or pronounced muscles.

She played with my breasts and fiddled around with my bum before taking my hand and placing it on the tiny mound and huge nipple of her chest. Obviously I had often caressed my own breasts so the feeling of her flesh in my hand was not really new, but nevertheless it felt fantastic especially when, without even thinking, my finger and thumb pinched her nipple. It just felt such a natural thing to do.

"Oh yes baby" she groaned into my ear. "Do that, pinch it, harder, harder."

I pinched the large nipple far harder than I could have suffered, but she enjoyed it for she moaned and whispered how wonderful it was. We kissed and licked each other's lips as mainly her hands, but also to an extent mine roamed over the other's body. There was no part of mine that her hands and fingers, feet and knees didn't visit. Mine focused on her little breasts, big nipples and her neck and back. I hadn't gained the confidence yet to visit her bottom or between her legs, although I was curious as to how a bald pussy feels having never touched one.

This was so different to the first time she had me. That had been fast and furious; everything was urgent, almost manic, rather rough and as scary as it was exciting. Having my arse licked as I was bent over a table and being finger fucked on the floor had been wonderfully sordid. I had done nothing like it before and I found the sheer sordidness a major turn on. Now the gentleness, the slow pace, the considerate loving all combined to produce sensations every bit as strong as the previous fuck, but different.

The kissing went on for a long time and I liked that. Marcia was as tender and participative now as she had been urgent and controlling previously. She whispered lovely thing to me about my body and figure, my hair and eyes and my breasts and bum.

"You have one of the most deliciously lickable arses I have ever seen" was a typical phrase that added to the heady atmosphere.

Slowly and gradually this time the tempo increased. She kissed me deeper, her caresses were more urgent and in increasingly intimate places; my breasts, nipples, bum and clit. She writhed her body more firmly against mine and pinched the flesh on my 'tits 'n ass' harder. She was building me up again; she knew it as well as I did. She also knew that I was totally and utterly hers to do with as she wished.

She stopped kissing me and rolled on top of me her pubis pressed against mine. She raised her body up and draped her chest near my face. Her big, hard nipple dangled invitingly. I needed little encouragement when she said softly.

"Suck me Amanda, suck my nipple."

It was an amazing sensation. It was like nothing I had ever done or experienced before. The feel on my lips tongue and teeth was wonderful as, letting my women's instincts take over I sucked, chewed and licked the rubbery, dark skin of her nipple and areola.

"Oh yes baby" she groaned cradling my head in her hands and pulling it tighter to her breast as she put one knee between my legs and the other outside my right leg. Her upper thigh pushed urgently right on my lips and clit. It was the most natural thing in the world for me to push upwards with my right leg right against her lips. Her thighs gripped my leg and, somewhat like a horny dog, she began to fuck my leg. Her thrusting movement encouraged me to make the same gestures. Sucking her nipples, for now I was alternating them, as she fondled my breasts and pinched and pulled my nipples we fucked each other.

It didn't take long for me to start Cumming onto her leg and that was wonderful. But more so was hearing Marcia groan. "Oh yes. Yes Mandy yes, you've fucking got me, I'm Cumming."

Feeling her body go rigid as the orgasm I had given her tore through her body made me feel amazing. It gave me a sense of achievement and power. It also confirmed to me that I indeed was at the very least bisexual.

As Marcia and I lay in each other's arms drifting off to sleep I felt wonderful, even though there was a tad of guilt at what I had done with her. The last words I remember as sleep overtook me were Marcia whispering in my ear as her fingertips trailed across my breasts.

"That was a start my darling, tomorrow there will be more. Tomorrow baby you are going to suck my cunt. and then meet my favourite toy"

With sleep taking over I was thinking 'Will tomorrow never come and indeed tomorrow really is another day!'