There is no ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on the door of your hotel room, so I knock – not too hard – and when you call out ‘Yes?’, I reply ‘It’s the chambermaid’, and you tell me to come in.
I am a little tentative about this, because I am still quite new at this job – I am only a couple months over sixteen years of age, working in this smart hotel in my seaside home town as a vacation job in the school summer holidays. The law is you have to be over sixteen for this sort of employment (even a temporary position), and this is my second week since starting – I was lucky to get the job, they wouldn’t normally take a girl quite so young and new, but my eldest brother who worked here last summer recommended me to the manageress, and because he was a reliable hard worker she decided to give me a chance.
My job is quite simple: I give a thorough clean to the rooms from which people have checked out and a quicker tidy to the rooms where the guests are staying on, including making the beds. This is an expensive, classy establishment, and to maintain that image I have a very traditional chambermaid’s uniform to wear: a black linen knee-length dress with a white frilly apron, tied behind the neck and at the waist, and a small white lace cap pinned in my hair.
You are staying at the hotel for a week (this is your third day), and obviously you are not lacking money as you have taken one of the best and largest rooms in the hotel, with a balcony view onto the sea, and you are paying for a luxury double-bed room even though you are a single woman alone. You have admired this peach of an innocent girl as she cleaned your room on the last two days, and you have chatted to her a bit – but casually, not leading anywhere, just a friendly exchange about the weather and so on. However, today you have decided to try to seduce her, to tempt her along the lesbian path – you like taking naive young teenage novices best of all, and what a tasty little morsel this pretty babe would be, if you can coax her into surrendering her pussy to your pleasures.
When I enter, I see that you are not fully dressed. At once, I apologise and say that I will come back later, but you smile and tell me to stay, that now is a good time, and with an attractive laugh you add that you enjoy seeing people working when you are on holiday.
You look very elegant and stylish – I think you are in your late 20s, ten or a dozen years older than me. You are a tall slim woman with straight blonde hair cut to collar length, and you have the classic cheekbones, clear features, slender height and long legs of a fashion model, which makes me wonder if perhaps you are or were? Certainly, I’ve noticed that you have great dress sense, your outfits are original and yet perfectly complementary and tasteful. Just now, you are wearing a lovely silvery-patterned ankle-length silk dressing robe, obviously of the best quality. It is only loosely fastened around your waist with a single tie, and it is falling open. I can’t help but see that underneath you have a sky blue bra – only a demi cup, and much of that thin lace, so your breasts are very prominently visible, making me blush when I see them (and you think to yourself: how pretty that looks, I’d like to give her something really to blush about). Although I don’t yet know this, apart from that, all you have on are matching the thong panties and suspender belt, and pale blue stockings.
I start to clean the room, and you sit on the chair by the dressing table. At first, you cross your legs – which causes the robe to fall away on either side of them, exposing your wonderful shapely thighs. The robe is also gaping open at your chest, and I can see much more of your bra and breasts. As you observe me, you slip one hand inside your robe and cradle one of the bra cups – I see this out of the corner of my eye, and look quickly away, unsettled and unsure of myself, and suddenly I feel that the room is very warm and stuffy.
You say what a very pretty girl I am, and ask my age. With a slight sigh – not because of you, but because I always have to explain; it’s because I look so young, most people guess my age at no more than fourteen. You nod and say that of course I must be sixteen to able to work here, and that you understand my frustration – you say that you always looked young when you were a teenager, but you still do and now you don’t mind it all! You give a rich conspiratorial chuckle, including me in our sisterhood of slim youthful fresh-faced blondes, and any irritation that I had is melted away by your charm. Guilelessly I ask how old you are, and then at once I blush and apologise profusely for such a personal question – but you smile at me with a twinkle, and I am staggered when you say thirty-four! I stammer something cringingly inane about hoping I look half as good at that age, and you touch me gently on the cheek and say softly that you are sure I will, that I’m even prettier than you were at sixteen.
You ask in a casually-friendly way if I have a boyfriend, and I shake my head decisively – I just haven’t wanted to get into any of that yet, perhaps because the boys at school are always pestering me to go out with them, and I know what they really want from me, just to get my panties down and poke me with their thing – and then boast about it to their friends, and call me a slut behind my back. That happened to poor Ellen, and I’m certainly not letting it happen to me! Anyway, I can remember them all in short trousers from primary school, and they don’t appeal at all.
Then you really shake my composure, because you ask in just the same tone of voice, perhaps then I have a girlfriend? I feel such a hot flush – because I think I know what you mean, and I stutter that, of course, lots of my friends are girls, I go round in quite a group ... but your slightly raised eyebrow shows that we both know what you are really referring to. And part of my turmoil is because I have been having some strange thoughts for a while, mainly about my friend Denise, I’ve been noticing her cute ass a lot, I don’t know why (no! I don’t!), and sometimes I’ve been watching her when we undress, side by side, before gym class. I don’t think I’m a ... you know, one of those ... I’m not even going to say it! It’s just natural curiosity, because Denise’s breasts developed earlier and are bigger than mine, that’s all it is, really, I’m sure ... I mean, sometimes she comes into my dreams at night, sometimes with her top off and saying she wants to kiss me, but that doesn’t mean anything, all sorts of weird stuff happens in dreams, and I only remember those bits because I wake up after them covered in sweat and trembling.
I smile shakily, and remember that I’m supposed to be working, not chatting with the guests. I return to tidying the room, and as I pull the covers back from the bed you watch me, apparently without a care – but actually you are like a hawk, waiting for the moment. As I move the pillow to straighten it, I find an object underneath and pick it up – before realising what it is (I’m not THAT innocent): a vibrator. I drop it like a hot potato, and feel myself blushing furiously. You give a rich laugh, and get lazily to your feet – you give a sensuous stretch that has the intended effect of undoing the tie on your robe, so that it falls completely open to both sides. You walk a few steps to the bed and pick up the vibrator, catch my eye with yours, give me a wink of woman-to-woman acknowledgement that I find enormously flattering – then you kiss the silver tip of the vibrator, and say: ‘my closest friend, I wouldn’t travel without her!’, and you put it away in your suitcase.
I am flustered, partly by finding an object that has been inside a woman’s cunt, partly by your assumption that I would completely know and understand (perhaps you assume that I have one of these things myself, dear God!!), and partly by your use of the female pronoun for your sex toy ... yes, oh yes, I noticed that – I’m an observant girl, everyone says so.
You sit down again, but this time with your legs apart. The robe hangs loosely from your shoulders, concealing nothing at all, as if you have completely forgotten about it. I return to making the bed, smoothing out the undersheet – to do that on this side, I have to bend right over with my ass jutting out towards you, and somehow I know that you are looking at it, that your interest is far more than casual. I swallow, feeling a slight flush, completely unsure of how to handle this situation – after all, absolutely nothing has actually happened, right?
Then I glance over my shoulder, and I see that you are watching me avidly, your legs apart and one hand resting gently against the V shape crotch of your thong panties, slowly rubbing yourself, and your other hand has covered one of your bra cups and is slowly squeezing it.
I am shocked, frightened – and fascinated, and frightened of being fascinated. I say that I think I should go, and come back when the room is empty and finish cleaning then, but I don’t move at all – I’m rooted to the spot. You slowly shake your head, still with that charming and considering smile, and you say:
‘Don’t worry, honey ... and don’t go – if you do, you’ll regret it forever, you’ll miss something wonderful.’
You shrug the robe from your shoulders and it falls behind the chair to the floor, and you beckon me towards you. I seem to have no independent willpower, and I’m drawn to you like a moth to the flame ... will you burn me up, I wonder?
I slowly come closer, to stand right in front of you, in between your parted knees. Your intent gaze holds my eyes, whilst you slowly reach forwards and gently touch my leg. I make a soft sound at the first contact – so slight as to be barely audible – but I voice no other protest as your hand slowly strokes the inside of my lower thigh, against my tights. Looking at me all the time, you slip your hand further upwards, going under my skirt. I am bewildered, and yet in my heart quite certain about what is going on. I hold my breath, trembling in anticipation and anxiety – but whether it is anxiety that I won’t like this, or the greater fear that I really will, I just don’t know!
Your hand slides up to where my legs join, and you press against the crotch of my tights, rubbing slowly but firmly backwards and forwards at the soft base of my Venus mound. I feel your touch like an electric shock and I bridle a little, but your other hand is at my waist, holding the white waistband of my apron, and you have expected this – it is the threshold, we both know it ... will I cross it, can you carry me over?
I shift nervously on my feet, skittering a little like a nervous yearling filly about to be saddled for the first time – but, like an experienced horse-trainer, you are prepared and grip my apron waistband like a halter, keeping me in place.
This is the moment when it all becomes real, for you are touching me sexually – there is no possible ambiguity as your fingers rub firmly on the crotch of my tights, finding the furrow of my cleft, teasing my slit. You lock my eyes with yours, your gaze is magnetic, as my hands dangle uselessly at my sides, and I take short panting breaths, my eyes wide in wonder. You are deft – I don’t think that I am the first young girl you have initiated, you know just where to touch to loosen me, to wash away my doubts and hesitations.
I feel a growing wetness and warmth in my pussy, and my breasts feel strangely tense as my nipples harden and rub against the inner fabric of my bra cups. My lips part slightly, and with a breathless whimper my tongue darts along them. My eyes are wide, staring down at your handsome confident features, and I surrender all volition to you – I trust you, even though I understand only hazily what you want from me and how you will take it.
‘It’s OK, honey; it’s fine, pretty babe, don’t you worry ... this will be wonderful, you’ll see’, you whisper reassuringly, and I bask in the warm approval of your regard even as your supple stroking of my slit arouses me, setting the blood pounding in my veins and my heart hammering in my chest.
I am beyond protest now, beyond any thought of objection or rejection, beyond any resistance to this moment, this here and now with its pulsating immediacy, its curious combination of vivid reality and ethereal remoteness. I move just slightly, widening my stance to open my hips a little, giving you more access to my private places. You smile with gentle satisfaction – you know that you have me now, that we have opened the door and gone into the secret Sapphic garden together. Your fingertips stroking the gusset of my tights can feel the patch of dampness seeping through my panties, and your expert nose catches that delectable warm scent of female arousal.
I stand quite still as you reach under my skirt with both hands, hook your fingers into the elastic waistband of my tights, and then with sensuous languor you roll them slowly over my hips and down my legs. My breath catches as you tug the crotch of the tights away from contact with my panties, and then again as the current of cooler air tickles around me. Without needing even a gesture, I lift first one foot and then the other, so that you can slip off my sensible indoor flat-heeled work slippers and then each leg of the tights as well.
Now your right hand is back under my skirt – but more visibly, as your left hand takes a grip of the hem and lifts it upward to reveal my plain pink cotton panties, which are cupped in your right hand. With a dextrous motion that takes me by surprise – hence my yelp – you slip two fingers inside my panties, gaining access from the leg opening and spearing adroitly into my slit, probing my labia apart and seeking the deep gorge in between.
You rub me like this for perhaps a minute – which is not long enough for me to come, but enough that I am now a tingling mass of nerve-endings. Your next step is to remove my panties, and this time it never even crosses my mind to object to this – you run your finger around inside their elastic waistband, and then tug them downwards too.
My pussy is naked!! My cunt is in full shocking view, just inches away from you, my sweet seducer. You hands push my skirt upwards, one hand on each of my hips, and this prevents the skirt from slipping down again.
Oh, wonder of the world ... no, of the universe!! You inexorably draw me towards you, and my cunt is level with your face. With your mouth just two or three inches from me, your fingers separate the blond curls of my downy hair and then tease my labia open, delicately unfurling the petals of my pussy. I feel the soft exhalation of your breath caress my receptive skin, and then you lean forward further and your lips press against me, your tongue darting from between them to taste the immature vintage of my seeping vaginal juices.
I spread my hips wider in an instinctive reaction, and my back arches and my head goes back on my shoulders. I give a kind of sob – not with sorrow, but with the satisfaction of surrender – as you initiate me into the pleasures of cunnilingus. The feel of your lips against my bare skin is a wonderful revelation, so mobile and soft and warm. Your tongue dips into me like a woodpecker boring holes – it jabs in and out, moist and firm, with a curious rasping texture that sends matching vibrations through my whole body. I am on fire, my breasts are so tight and hard that I think they will burst out of my bra. Sweat beads my forehead, and my eyes are closed as I savour every wild runaway sensation – oh! I never knew such pleasure, such bliss!
You eat my pussy, your tongue now lapping and probing around my clitoris, and your finger gently but persistently pressing at the base of my pudenda. Well-lubricated now, I part for you easily and your finger rubs along the inside of my vagina, upwards and downwards – but then you stop, carefully judging your moment, before I am brought to a climax, and you keep me on the cusp, tantalisingly balanced.
You withdraw your lips from my pussy, and look up at me, hot desire for my firm teenage body blazing in your eyes. I am like a rabbit caught in the glare of your headlamps – I am frozen in place, not knowing which way to jump. My mind is blank, and yet bursting with vivid images and emotions, and the sense of a half-hidden future unfolding ahead of me. Your touch is arousing me to a pitch of intensity, answering my deeply-suppressed desires – for a second, I think of my friend Denise, and picture her naked and parting her legs to allow me to do these things to her, and my whole body is flushed with a wild and wanton desire. I don’t care where this is going any more, I don’t care what is happening or whatever you want to do – I am just here for this moment and the next, and nothing beyond that matters at all. Without even thinking, I gasp:
‘Oh! take me, please ... take me!’
You smile with satisfaction – this one is truly hooked and landed, and your instinct about a girl’s seducability has once again proven to be uncannily accurate. Your response is to press the long index finger of your right hand into my vaginal hole, and I shudder with excitement and fear as your nail encounters the barrier of my hymen and sc****s across it. You smile inwardly again: it is just as you had hoped and expected – this delicious young girl is indeed still a virgin. As you press lightly against my membrane, I rise to my tiptoes under the pressure, and reach forwards to hold onto your shoulders for balance. You vow silently to yourself that you will open this pretty girlish teenager, that you will take her virginity before she leaves this room ... but not right now, not quite just yet. This dance is a tango for two, and there are more steps to be taken before that final triumphant flourish. I give a gasp of wonder, and then a shaky sigh as you withdraw your finger completely, lifting it your lips and licking my juices from it.
You rise smoothly to your feet, and I find that you are much taller than my five feet three inches, probably by nearly six inches. Your hand cups my pussy, giving it a squeeze, as you lean slightly downwards and our mouths meet in a long probing saliva-mingling kiss. As you stood up, my hands slipped down to your waist, and I marvel in amazement at the feeling of having a grown woman – a woman actually more than twice my age – in my arms as a ... as a ... yes! as a lover, a lesbian lover!
Now you reach behind my waist, and gently tug undone the bow knot which holds my apron neatly in place. I bow my head as you slip the other strap over me, and drop the frilly white garment on the floor. Next, your hand rises up my spine until it finds the collar of my chambermaid’s uniform, and you take the latch of the zip between your fingers and slowly pull it downwards.
I luxuriate in the sensation of being undressed with sexual desire, for such a thing has never happened to me before. There is just a touch of cool sea breeze through the slightly-ajar door to your balcony, and it caresses my bare skin as the zip reaches the small of my back and the black dress hangs open behind me. With a swift shrug of my shoulders, the maid’s uniform slips from me – my slender hips give it no purchase, and it cascades down my body and pools around my ankles on the floor.
I gaze at you with saucer-eyes, but without any shame. I am naked now apart from my pink bra and the little lace cap of my maid’s outfit. Remembering the latter, I reach a hand up to unpin and remove it, but you halt me with a gesture:
‘No, don’t – you look so pretty in that, leave it on.’
Now your hands are fondling my bra cups, kneading gently the small breasts that they cover. My bra is almost a training bra, for my A-cup bumps need no support. I catch my breath as you reach round again and unsnap the backband, and I have a second of embarrassment as the bra tumbles from my shoulders, revealing my juvenile chest. But you like my lack of size – it makes me seem even younger than I am, and that attracts you like the panther stalking the tethered lamb.
I give a little squeal as your mouth slips over one of my rock-hard nipples, and you suck on it and then tease it between your teeth – and, simultaneously, your right hand takes my other tit and tugs on it before rubbing your thumb over and around it. Your left hand slips between my parted thighs once more, gently caressing my mound and running a fingertip delicately along my opening cleft. I am almost weak-kneed from this roller-coaster ride of sensations, which is just as you have intended all along.
For a moment, your mouth and hands relinquish my breasts and pussy, and you glance towards the bed. I allow you to steer me backwards three or four paces, until the backs of my calves bump against it. You quickly tug the covers out of the way and ease me down, to lie across the mattress on my back, my legs slightly parted to expose my virgin vagina.
As I gaze up at you, I swallow in nervous expectation, for you are a truly magnificent example of a mature sexual woman. Your lingerie is elegant and clearly expensive, and yet very sensual. As I watch, open-mouthed, you slowly roll your skimpy thong panties down your thighs and cast them away, and I see with tingling recognition that your pussy is completely shaven, so that all of your sex is revealed. Now, still holding my gaze in your hot regard, you unshrug your bra – and your gorgeous, fascinating breasts swing free; they are not too big, a nice average 30C or maybe 32C, but they are well-shaped and firm, with large aureoles and prominently aroused nipples.
You keep on your garter belt and stockings, and this makes you even more alluring than full nudity, for the lacy fringe of the suspender belt so neatly accentuates the sweeping curves of your hips and pelvis, and the straps which hang down to clasp your stockings frame the jutting opening of your visible red slit. With a fluid motion, you move forwards and recline on the bed beside me, propped up one elbow and gazing down at my small girlish breasts. Once again, you idly trace your hand along my body – starting from my knee, and stroking upwards along my inner thigh until my pussy is once again cupped in your palm. You give it an affectionate squeeze, rather like a greeting for an old friend, and this sends an erotic charge surging through my nervous system.
Next, your hand moves upwards, whispering across my stomach and then circling my small bumps, where you pause for a moment to rub your thumb just underneath each of my stiff little tits. Then you take my chin in your hand and draw me towards you, guiding my mouth until it encounters the silky smoothness of your breast. I am trembling like a leaf as I take your hard nipple between my lips, and I am tentative at first as I touch the tip of my tongue across it. The taste and texture of your nipple is fascinating, and I gain confidence from your purring sounds of approval and pleasure as I begin to suck and lick more firmly around your jutting tit.
As I get into my stride with this, you reach for my hand and bring it down between your own legs – you want me to touch and hold your cunt! Taking my cue from the encouraging pressure of your grasp, and the vivid memories of how you fondled me just moments ago, I begin to caress your pussy, feeling for the opening – so soft, so fleshy, and ... oh! ... so moist, so dripping wet with juices. You give a little moan, and I increase the pressure, parting your labia and with great daring sliding the tip of my thumb along the groove between them.
Suddenly the realisation hits me: I’m having lesbian sex, I’m actually fucking an older woman! Far from alarming me, this goes to my innermost core and sets off a depth-charge of lust. A convulsive shudder of erotic excitement runs through me, so profound that it is the closest of kissing cousins to an orgasm. Even so, apart from one deep groan, I never stop my appointed task of orally arousing your beautiful breasts, although for fairness sake I have now shifted my attentions to the other one.
Your breathing starts to break down into ragged pants, interspersed with short high-pitched gasps, and I realise that you are riding the crest of the wave towards orgasm. Suddenly, you grasp the wrist of my pussy-poking hand, and hoarsely exhort me:
‘Finger ... aaaahh! Finger, use it, c’mon babe, finger-fuck me!’
And then, without even waiting for my response, you arch your hips apart and jab my hand forcefully into your vagina. I have understood enough of your meaning to extend my index finger straight out like a rod, and you sink that deep into your pussy. The texture and sensation are a revelation to me – like a kind of resilient rubber, and smoothly slick with your juices. The widening hole of your vulva resists my entry with momentary sucking firmness, and than gapes open as my digit enters you. Your grip on my hand is like steel, and you piston it in and out of you with a force that this novice would never have dared to use. You give a soft cry of rising ecstasy, and then another gasped instruction:
‘Two ... two ... honey, use two, ah-ahhhh!! ... shit! yes, yes! you’ve got it – like that ... oh fuck, that’s sooo gooood!’
I have understood at once – my tight little virginal twat can only take a single finger, but your adult experienced cunt needs more to fill its hole. Now I begin to thrust two fingers, side by side, although really it is you who are controlling this, your hand is driving mine back and forth with almost savage intensity, as you bring yourself to climax.
‘Pretty babe, you’re so cute ... aah! yes – that’s good! ... you’re so fucking sexy’, you manage to pant.
It delights me that I turn you on so much, for I know with certainty that I want to thrill you, that I want you to desire me. With urgent intensity, your voice becomes hoarse and low – but fortunately not so loud as to carry beyond this room:
‘AAAAHHHH!! YES!! OH, BABE – FUCK ME, FUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKME ... OH FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!’
Your eyes are closed, a rictus of exaltation tightens your cheeks and mouth, your back arches clear of the bed, and your hips jerk and quake in a volcanic orgasm. There is nothing you like better than a sweet slim teenager fucking your vagina ... nothing, that is, apart from giving her the same treatment in turn!
As your orgasm recedes, you slump back next to me, your eyes opening and your face flushed with a glow of satiated pleasure. You release my pussy-poking hand, but make no complaint when I continue to ply my fingers up and down your vagina, the movement now vertically from bottom to top rather than horizontally in and out. You look at me with warm affection, and I bask in your approval as you whisper your thanks and then kiss me, slowly, deeply, exchanging saliva and swirling tongues in a long and very arousing French kiss.
When we come up from this for air, you smile again and tell me that now it is my reward, and I tingle with curious anticipation and newly-awakened lesbian excitement ... yes, I don’t hesitate over the L-word any longer, in fact I embrace it: if this is how sex is with another female, than a lifelong lesbian I will surely and happily be!
I lie back, and for a moment you stroke the silky blonde hair that was one of things which made you desire me, made you decide upon me as your first target for seduction on this holiday ... my lovely long fair hair, my slim undeveloped figure, and my cute pert ass that I wiggled in front of you (it must have been subconsciously) when I made up your bed on the first morning. You smile at that memory, and then you kiss my forehead, the tip of my nose, my mouth briefly again, my chin ... and then your mouth goes to my breasts, and as it does your hands urge my thighs to spread wide open, and you begin to stroke around my upper thighs, coming ever closer to my hot seeping sex slit.
Your fingers deftly delve between my labia once again, probing me, entering me, turning me on so much. Your eyes gleam ... now, soon will be the moment, the completion of your conquest. You probe your finger inwards until it encounters definite resistance, and once again it presses against the membrane of my virginity, teasing its flexibility as if it were a minute trampoline. Lying there, half beside me and half above me, you arch an eyebrow interrogatively, and ask just a single word, so loaded with meaning and possibility:
I wet my lips, but really need no time for thought. I nod, and whisper ‘Yes’, softly and barely audibly, but it sounds like a thunderclap in my ears.
You nod, but instead of taking immediate action you rise from the bed, and disappear for a moment into the en suite bathroom. In an instant you return with one of the hotel’s large Egyptian cotton bath towels, and I lift my hips in comprehension for you slide this underneath my buttocks – I may be a virgin, but I’ve had those sex-education classes in school too, I know what happens, and I appreciate the precaution you have taken so that any show of blood will not get through to the bedsheets.
Again you step back for a second, but now to reach for the metallic-silver vibrator that you had earlier artfully placed for me to discover – and which you always hoped and intended would be used to open this peachy pussy, and debut this pretty potential lesbian. My breath catches as you rub its smooth-rounded tip up and down my cunt, and then you ease it into me, as my juices gush to lubricate its inward journey. You corkscrew it from side to side with deftly practiced twists of your wrist, and with each motion it sinks in another millimetre, stretching my pussy to adult capacity.
Now the point of the vibrator has reached my hymen, and – like your finger before it – it teases and stretches against it, but carefully avoiding the force that would tear through it. No more words are exchanged, but you look at me directly again in silent enquiry. I bite my lower lip in sudden nervousness, for this step is irrevocable – and I somehow know, far beyond even the importance of the physical change, that if I give myself to another woman now, I will want only women for ever more. I suppress my sudden unworthy doubts and fears ... let it be so, let it surely be so.
I nod, and on that instant you switch the vibrator on, catching me by surprise and churning the nerve-endings in my pussy into a frothing lather. Then you pull the vibrator back about an inch, and with one smooth motion of your elbow you thrust it back again – through my virgin barrier and deeper into my vagina. There is a moment of pain, but nothing severe – for some reason, I think it feels like a sudden stubbing of your toe on bad paving: unexpected, briefly unpleasant, and leaving for a few minutes a throbbing soreness and a heightened sensitivity.
Now the vibrator is almost all of the way into me – before these moments, I would never have believed such a thing to be possible. But then, nor would I have foreseen the blissful sensations that result, and of which I cannot get enough. My actions copy yours – not in deliberate mimicry, but because they are the only possible responses to such stimuli. I am gasping for breath, my hips are jerking up and down, and my tits are on fire. My head thrashes from side to side on the rumpled bed sheets, my long blonde locks in a sweaty tangle, and I am biting down hard on my lower lip as the exquisite sensations tread that fine line between agony and ecstasy.
You sense the moment – not surprisingly, for as well as grown women lovers, over the last fifteen or so years you have seduced nearly a dozen delectable teenagers. You pull the buzzing vibrator back a little further, pause for a tantalising split-second, and then ram it into me, harder and deeper than ever. To deliver the coup de grace, you do two other things simultaneously: you grip one of my breasts with your free hand and squeeze it, and you whisper hotly in my ear:
‘Come, babe ... c’mon, and come ... come for me, do it for me ... come for me, now, now!!’
And I do – having my first ever true climax. Like an avalanche it sweeps me away and leaves me buried in a white cocoon of bliss, and when I emerge from it the world seems a different place. There is a new landscape now – old ideas are buried with little sense of loss, and I must find my own track across this reshaped terrain.
For a moment, I lie back, spent and taken, and yet fulfilled beyond measure. You smile at me fondly, and use the free edge of the towel to wipe away the sweat from my forehead and cheeks, and then go lower to dry softly across my breasts ... hey lady, if you keep doing that, you’ll set me off again! We lie on the bed in companionable closeness and silence, my hand cupping one of your swaying breasts, just to feel its weight and texture, and perhaps as reassurance that all of this really has happened and its not just a dream. I admire your alluring femininity – the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the smooth rise of your stomach, the swooping dip to a slender waist, and then the plunge to the valley of delight in between your smooth tanned thighs.
‘When ... ?’ I ask softly, and you look down at me and chuckle with amusement.
You translate my simple plea into its proper meaning, and put it into words:
‘You mean – when can you see me again ... when can we do it again?’
I nod, slowly but with unmistakeable intent.
‘I can be here all day, honey’, you affirm, for there is nothing in this world that you enjoy more than girl-fucking, especially when the teen is a novice. You ask what I am doing after my room-cleaning duties are over, and my truthful reply is nothing, nothing at all.
‘Well’, you smile in lazy warm anticipation, ‘come back then, we’ll take a shower together and then spend the afternoon in bed – I can teach you so many special secret pleasures!’
I am so thrilled – oh, heavenly day of opening and opportunity, of which I never even dreamt an hour ago! I glance at the clock – can only twenty minutes have passed since I entered this room? Still, I have got behind with my work duties, and it is a mercy that the manageress has not come hunting to chase me up – that would have been awkward! As it is, I had better get back to my room cleaning as soon as possible.
I get dressed quite hastily – you helpfully zip up my black uniform dress, and I tie on the apron and restore the little hat to my tousled hair. I kiss you on both sets of lips, earning an appreciative murmur as I kneel to plant one on your puckered labia. Then I set off to complete the cleaning of my set of rooms – and never have I worked so fast before!
Soon, very soon, I will be back to knock on your door – and this time there will be no hesitation about it!