Sexual Biography of a Young Woman Pt. 07bysammican1©
If you've read the previous parts you'll know you can skip the rest of the intro and go straight to the action
You'll also know that I'm writing a series of accounts about my life in England; mainly true accounts, with just a little embellishing here and there. They're about my sex life to be precise, but then what other type of life is written about on Lit?
A biography I suppose, but a short one and an unfinished one. Is it arrogant for a, nearly, twenty one year old to write a bio? Probably, but then, hey, what the hell, I want to tell my short story so let's see just how many want to read it.
How many want to read about how I lost my virginity when I was eighteen, had an affair with a thirty something man just after that and how since then I've been strongly attracted to older men. About my time at university, learning about girls and how male lecturers ignore the no fraternising with female students rule. How I became a photographic model, part-time and my conflict over what goes on in the studio when there's just the model and the cameraman there.
The accounts flow naturally and are intrinsically linked. I strongly urge you to read them in the sequence I wrote them. Whatever way you do read them, though, enjoy them, leave whatever comments you wish and e-mail me if you'd like to discuss anything.
I suppose we should have realised it would happen. I guess my lipstick lesbian lover and I should have worked out that there would be quite a reaction. We should have thought things through more carefully and recognised that our fellow students at the university in Bristol would react quite strongly.
I mean, after all, when two moderately attractive, if I do say so myself, girls flash all their bits on stage what can you expect? When between them they do six nude scenes with an audience of three hundred each night for five nights there's bound to be some comeback isn't there? When they kiss and caress each other on stage their fellow students must inevitably think differently about the girls than before they saw them in all their glory, mustn't they? When two girls like Steph and I bare our breasts, our nipples, almost certainly hardened, our flat stomachs, slender thighs, and bushy pubes it's ridiculous to not anticipate that there'll be some comeback.
And of course there was.
There was leers as boys looked at us and stares from girls that were part disdainful, part sneering and part, I think, envious. We both got loads of wolf whistles and often shouted comments as well that were more directed to Steph such as, "come on show us yer tits."
It had been the university drama club's Christmas offering, Joe Orton's classic, "What the Butler Saw" that had caused this. I'd been responsible for the script adaptation and for some extra scenes and David, the lecturer who I was having an affair with had been the director. It had been amazingly erotic to have him directing the lesbian scene I'd added. He didn't know that I was having fairly regular sex with Stephanie, the female lead in the play, and she didn't know I was having an affair with the married lecturer. So when he was telling Steph and I how to best act out the scene we needed little guidance really, for it was something we were already doing two or three times each week.
It was really only my sex with Steph and my affair with David that had kept me sane these past w weeks at university. I hated being there and at the end of the first year I'd tried to persuade my parents to let me leave, but they wouldn't. I could hardly believe that my dad, who I utterly adored, could be so mean to his "princess" and I'd thrown a massive month long strop that included not joining them on the traditional summer holiday at our house in Florida. That really pissed dad off.
So I'd been forced to come back to uni in the October for the Christmas term. I still hated it but now there were a few compensations. I enjoyed the drama society, helping David with developing "What the Butler Saw", being shagged by him, learning all about Stephanie's great tits and making lesbian love with her.
I guess our notoriety actually started before the bloody play even ended its run for we began getting tons of e-mails. Mostly crude and often anonymous they asked the most intimate questions and related in the most minute detail just what the senders would like to do to us. That usually involved words such as cock, cunt, tits and ass often with all four being used in the same sentence.
"Look you clearly aren't shy about being naked, so why don't' you model for the art society," I was asked by one of the more sensible fine art students. I haggled around with him going through what a daft idea it was and putting forward, "why the hell should I?" sort of arguments.
But somehow it struck a chord with me. For some reason the suggestion stayed in my head. I was a little intrigued and, I suppose, slightly excited by it. Why? God knows. Was it my exhibitionistic tendencies, that had affected me so strongly when I was nude on stage in the play, emerging again, I wondered?
On top of that I was told they paid a hundred pounds for a session. Although my dad had given me a MINI Cooper S, paid the college fees and provided me with a flat that I shared with three others I was cash poor. I couldn't just pop out and buy a new dress or handbag and rarely did I have hardly any money in my purse. The odd hundred quid now and then sounded very tempting indeed.
Paraphrasing the words of an actor in a famous British sitcom, "I can't believe it," I said to myself. I couldn't believe what was happening; to me, my mind, my body and mostly to my breasts, well to be absolutely specific, my nipples. They were getting hard. Fortunately I was posed so that from where the students sat they could see my back and only a side view of one of my boobs. Nevertheless they could get up and move around a couple did gaze at my body from all angles
I started reciting the eight times table, I always had difficulty with that, and declining the French verb "to be" in an effort to take my mind off my tits.
I'd been sitting naked in front of the portrait group for twenty minutes or so. There was hardly any talking although they'd put on some weird, Indian type music in the background. They'd also lit some joss sticks and sweet smelling candles before I got there and most, or at least many, were smoking weed and a few were swigging from bottles, metal polish probably I thought, for none of them looked as though they had two pennies to rub together. Presumably all that was to increase the creative juices, but to me it was redolent of sixties films and seemed very much last year.
"Je suis, tu est, il est, elle est. Seven eights are, what the hell are they, oh yes fifty six, eight eights are, oh fuck I haven't the foggiest idea," I was saying to myself as the group looked at me and then recorded in charcoal what their weird minds were undoubtedly visualising.
It was no good. They kept getting harder and harder. Now they were throbbing and a heat and a pressure was spreading from them and oozing through my body.
"Nous sommes, vous etes," I said to myself knowing that it was hopeless for I was becoming turned on. I was aroused and excited. My thighs felt like jelly and inside my tummy felt as though it was on fire. Were their stares different now? Maybe that was the dope and the booze, I speculated. "Yeah right," I thought, "twelve horny art students looking at a naked model whose nipples were exploding in front of them and they'll think they're hallucinating!"
"Nine eights are seventy two and ten eights are easy, just add a nought."
My breasts felt so full. I desperately wanted to touch them stroke them hold them and squeeze them, or, better still, have someone do that for me.
"What the hell's next? What's they are? Isn't there two, one masculine and one feminine? Now that's just the sort of thought I don't want I realised, cursing the French for bringing sex even into their grammar."
I was sure that rather tasty looking guy with the Zapata-like moustache could see my hardened nipples. I was sure the girl to my left with the hair down to her waist would notice that my breasts were full and hot and feeling as though they were swelling.
"Ils ont, elles ont, isn't? Oh I don't know I was never much good in any case."
"Ok, let's take a break, thanks so much Sam," the impossibly young looking lecturer, Tom, in charge of the portrait group was saying as he walked towards me holding up the silk dressing gown I'd been advised to bring with me.
We stood around chatting with a few of us, not many, having a cup of tea. It was quite an odd situation being in a dressing gown with fully clothed people all round me, especially when just moments before they'd seen my naked body and, I suspected my hardened nipples.
"I know it's your first modelling session Sam so are you ok going full frontal?" the lecturer asked me, rather tactlessly I thought as he said it quite loud so many of those others could hear.
I didn't know what to say at first, especially as when she heard that the girl with the long hair who'd been staring so intently, or so I thought, at my breasts, joined us. I was acutely aware of her long, long legs in the, what seemed to me to be, almost impossibly tight jeans and equally impossibly tiny top that showed off most of her rather saggy boobs. I hesitated giving her the opportunity to comment.
"Some models just can't do that Sam, but we all hope you will."
As she said that she stared at me fairly intently. I couldn't tell and didn't really want to dwell on thinking about whether it was a look of invitation or one of her being stoned so I looked away and back at Tom.
"I think I'll be ok," I told him lighting a ciggie to calm my nerves.
Ok? Was I OK? I was in my fucking element. I was out of my mind and zapped up so much I wondered whether someone had slipped something in my tea.
From the moment Tom posed me sitting on a pile of cushions my feet tucked under my bottom with me leaning back on my arms I came alive.
From when he said, "would you undo the robe for us please Sam?" and stood back, not far enough really for he was just a couple of feet away from me, and stared at me as I stripped naked I was a different person. As he and the others gazed at my bare breasts, looked at my nipples and let their gaze sweep downwards to my pubes so I felt vibrant and alive. I liked it, I enjoyed it and I got one hell of a buzz from it.
I didn't cum. I don't suppose that's possible just sitting there being looked at is it? But I must have got near. I was wet, very wet, I could feel that and, of course, again my bloody nipples betrayed me, as they so often do! They were pulsating, they seemed like beacons or those flashing lights on top of a warning cone in the road. I was breathing heavier than I normally did and the blood seemed to be rushing through my body which felt as though it would soon catch light.
Fortunately, with most of them pretty spaced out on what they'd been taking, nobody seemed to notice, or if they did they said nothing. "Perhaps they're used to it," I thought as I got dressed behind the screen that had been thoughtfully provided in a corner of the room.
Steph and I had just masturbated each other. It was nice; in fact it was bloody lovely.
We'd taken to doing that occasionally, especially when we felt tired and didn't have the energy to go full on with heads between legs and lips and mouths working overtime. We'd kiss and stroke each other as we eased our clothes off and then sat side by side on the sofa in my flat.
We rarely had sex at her place as she lived in a massive house that she shared with, probably, ten others. It was just so frantic that the peace and solitude needed for successful sex never happened, so we either did it in my car, went to a hotel or, when my flat mates were out, at my place; that wasn't a very frequent luxury though.
I'd lock the front door, just in case, but had no idea what I'd say if one of the others came home unexpectedly. I mean what sort of excuse would be plausible to them? Fortunately it never happened which I put down to careful choosing of when to do it.
Anyway we'd lie back on the sofa, my Marlboros, her joints, wine, vodka and glasses nearby with a large bottle of baby oil and some towels close to hand. We'd kiss and touch, fondle and lick, caress and suck each other as our hands started roaming over the other bodies. Eventually we'd end up mutually masturbating each other totally from the use of our fingers; it was nice, easy, relaxed and not at all messy!
This particular day my three flat mates had all gone out together in the early afternoon and had told me they wouldn't be home until late evening.
"Hi," I'd said to Steph on our mobiles, "I'll be alone all afternoon."
"Give me half hour and I'll be there to keep you company," she replied, immediately understanding my shorthand way of saying, "like to come and fuck me?"
I had a quick shower and toyed with the idea of not bothering to dress, for I knew she'd have whatever I had on, off me soon after arriving. I slipped into a mid-thigh length tee shirt dress. It was pale lemon, made of cotton and was fairly loose but clung to me in the places where a lover would like it to; yes my tits, hips and tummy. It showed quite clearly that I was naked underneath and it very loudly broadcast the message that I, along with most girls getting ready for their lover, wanted sex, in fact it roared out loud and very, very clear that I was ready to be fucked. And that was precisely the message I wanted to transmit and knew for sure that Stephanie, my now over six weeks, lipstick lesbian lover, would want to receive.
We kissed immediately I opened the door. Bodies touching from lips to toes, arms tightly round the other, breasts and stomachs squirming we edged our way inside Steph back-heeling the front door shut. Before she'd taken me in her arms and my eyes had closed as we kissed I'd taken in what she was wearing. Tight, tight, tight jeans that showed her legs off so well, clung to her pussy like a second skin and from previous viewing I knew moulded themselves to her glorious arse emphasising the rich roundness of her cheeks to perfection. On top, a simple white, scooped neck tee shirt. Well as simple as a tee shirt can be when it's carrying such a precious target as Steph's magnificent tits.
Before we'd made love I'd been curious about girls and often wondered, especially in the sixth form at school, what it would be like to make love to another female. Yes I'd been, what I now know is called, bi-curious for some time, but had done very little. Coming to university just at a time when lipstick lesbianism seemed to be everywhere was so fortuitous for me; it let my mind accept what my body had been craving about for ages and that I summed up as Steph's tits.
You'll have to forgive me if I wax lyrical for a while, if I stray away from the story and if I give vent to my inner feelings. You see I am physically and emotionally totally and utterly in love with Stephanie Gordon's breasts.
They're big and full and soft and smooth and absofuckinglutely lovely. I adore their handfilling fullness, the way they wobble as she moves, the slight sag as she stands, the way they lollop to one side when she lays on her back for me and the sight of them squashed as she lays on her front.
I love doing everything to them; stroking, caressing, squeezing, pinching, gently scratching, licking, sucking, kissing and chewing.
I wonder at how amazing they look when I press the two beautiful orbs together and I shudder with admiration and lust when I hold one and focus all my attention on that.
And her nipples are to die for. Much larger than mine in circumference they have lots of little lumps on that feel so nice against the tip of my tongue. A beautiful coral pink in colour with a nice, large teat in the middle they are sensitive to her and so attractive to me. We play for ages pulling, and pinching, sucking and chewing the rubbery wonderfulness of Steph's tits and nipples.
Now mine aren't bad. Obviously by her standards they pall into insignificance in size, although they are a respectable, in most company, 32b to c. When up against, which they are now and then but nowhere near as often as I'd like, Stephanie's awesome 36 dd equipment then I really do feel a little under equipped. Having said that, and admittedly adoring the look and feel of large tits, I'm not sure I'd want them; it must make life very difficult in many ways, running for instance, and to have men continually leering at your chest must be a pain.
Her hands quickly confirmed what her eyes had suggested when she scanned them across my body.
"Mmmmm you sexy little hussy," she groaned into my ear as she ran her hands up the back of the dress taking the hem with them.
Her hands and fingers on my back and bum cupping my cheeks and slithering between them soon had me shuddering with need and quivering with expectancy. Of course as she was investigating my nudity I was reacquainting myself with her tits. , Outside, momentarily, her tee shirt, inside it and on her bra, in her bra, the tee shirt pulled down, the cups eased away and her glorious globes naked for my hands and mouth.
"Am I Steph? A sexy little hussy?" I asked as I slipped her erotically erect nipple into my mouth
"Yes and you know it," she replied pulling the hem of the short dress up until it was around my neck and shoulders, my entire body bared for her, naked for my Stephanie, nude and available for my lipstick lover.
We were both naked very quickly. I pulled away from her a little.
"Hi, why don't you come in?" I smiled taking her hand and leading her from the hallway of the flat into the quite large lounge.
"So kind of you to ask?" Steph laughed back, trailing her fingernails down my back and over the swell of my bum as she followed me. "I see you're well prepared," she continued nodding at the coffee table in front of the L-shaped brown leather sofa that dominated the room.
"Well you know me Steph, a real girl guide, be prepared for anything and everything," I replied as we looked at the bottles of wine, vodka and baby oil on the table.
Our bare hips and the outside of our legs were pressed tightly together as we sat side by side on the sofa. We turned the tops of our bodies towards each other and we stroked and caressed each others breasts and kissed and licked the others face. It was lovely.
We followed the pattern we'd established the last few times we'd done this mutual masturbation thing. Letting our hands slowly roam over the others body we'd kiss each other on the mouth and then move, in turn, down to the others breasts. As one sucked and licked the others boobs and nipples the other one would run their hands through the others hair or each round and cup their breasts.
It was all a bit mixed up and clumsy but gradually a pattern was established. Gradually the purpose was defined and the procedure made clear. Gradually one of my hands found its way between her legs just as one of hers slid between my thighs. Our other arm was round the others shoulder and we held and cuddled each other exchanging occasional kisses and delicious licks round the others face and mouth.
Steph had such a beautifully deft touch with her fingers that I desperately tried to copy. The very tips of her fingers slithered around my lips and along the slit between them now and then slipping just slightly inside. She repeated that several times making my juices go into free fall and giving me such delicious sensations everywhere. As she did that so I felt her feminine smoothness and womanly wetness on my fingers that were doing very similar things to her pussy.