Uni Girls

My marriage ended acrimoniously after twenty eight years; mainly because I realised I didn't like men. As plus points at forty years old I was still in good condition and attractive for my age. Nor had we had any children, so I had no dependants to fret over. And the financial settlement was more than generous, I would have few money worries for the foreseeable future.

As negative points I had worked part-time in my husband's business and the rest of the time had been a 'happy' home-maker. The monetary settlement meant I wasn't going to be going short, but then it wasn't enough to allow me to buy a villa in Barbados and spend the next thirty years ogling eighteen year olds on the beaches.

However if I had one regret, it was that I'd left school at eighteen and got married, rather than go to University. Strictly speaking that's two regrets, but they are linked.

So that's how I found myself one day in late September at Doldersfield University sitting in a draughty lecture hall, listening to a white bearded lecturer talking about the underlying meaning of Jane Eyre in a masculine society. And whilst many of you may find this boring – I have to admit I loved it.

And it wasn't just the education that I loved. It was the girls. Fat girls, thin girls. Black girls, white girls, Asian girls. Girls who had cropped hair and girls whose hair flooded down the length of their back. Girls who spoke with the harsh accents of Northern Mill Towns and girls who spoke as if they had spent their entire lives in finishing schools. Girls with big tits and girls who chests were like ironing boards. Some who were confident and some timid. Girls whose complexion were pure and others who were still suffering from teenage acne.

I loved them all.

But if there was a blot on the horizon it was boys. I admit to being a rarity, a woman who likes other women. It seemed every girl at Doldersfield was a red blooded heterosexual. I sometimes used to sit in the bar or the library and thinking of the waste as these gorgeous young things grappled with the immature adolescent which was the male undergraduate.

Don't get me wrong I'd taken some active steps to get laid. I joined the Lesbian and Gay Society. But whilst I'd met some attractive looking women it wasn't the pick-up joint I'd imagined it to be. Whilst I'm not ashamed by my sexuality I refuse to be defined by it. And all DLGS seemed to be interested in was the politics of sex, as if prefering pussy to cock somehow meant that you should follow a pre-defined political route, have the same hairstyle and wear the most hideous clothes available at the second hand shop.

So I quickly dropped out. And I have to say my first semester was a bit of a waste sexually.

I returned after Christmas with my parents revigorated and raring to get back to studying. This term I was taking a tutorial in late Tudor poetry and I wanted to get started on reading up on it.

So after unpacking my things I gave my teeth a quick scrub and fastened back my hair. I pulled on a coat and wrapped my scarf round my neck and set out to the library.

Using the computer I quickly located the book I wanted. Scanning the titles on the shelf I quickly located it and reached to pull it out. As I did so another hand brushed mine as it too reached for the book.

I turned to see who the hand belonged too. The owner was blushing slightly, 'Sorry' she said. 'you have it'

She was about 5'10, with hair just down beyond her collar, with a hint of a perm in it. She had a small diamond nose-stud, which seemed to glint in the artificial lights and matched her pale blue eyes. Despite the woolly, baggy jumper she was wearing I could make out her tits were larger than average, but not so large as to be disproportionate to her slender body. In contrast to her sweater the jeans she was wearing were tight, accentuating her perfect legs and buttocks.

I could feel myself in turn blushing. Had she read my mind she'd have quickly discovered that reading was now the last thing on my mind.

'I think you were first,' she continued. 'There's plenty of others I can choose from'.

'Well it is the best' I conceded, 'but,' I pointed to another book near it, 'if it's Tudor poetry you're interested in, this one is almost as good.'

I paused, quickly thinking how I could turn this chance encounter to my advantage. 'We could share it.'

The girl smiled, 'Thanks, but that would be a bit rude of me.' I was about to protest, but she continued, 'If you're only going to borrow it for a few days perhaps you could ring me when you're done'.

She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and scribbled down her number on it. Taking it I noted her name, Sandra. Truth be told I was only planning to read it in the library, but given that she'd given me her number it seemed churlish to refuse. 'Miranda' I said introducing myself.

Picking the book I'd recommended she headed to the librarians desk. By the time I'd picked up my coat and scarf she already gone.

My vibrator got a work out that night.

I rang Sandra a few nights later. As she answered the phone I could hear the beat of music in the background and the sound of voices. 'Hello' Sandra shouted down the phone. It was just my luck it seemed I had phoned during a party.

'Hi, its Miranda, I've finished with the book you wanted. Perhaps I could drop it off.'

Sandra seemed a little startled by my suggestion. 'Don't bother, if you drop it back in the library, now I know it's back, I'll pick it up in a few days.'

It was my turn to be confused. Naively I had imagined Sandra would be delighted with my suggestion and would invite me back to her flat for what would turn into an evening of fun and frolics. But reality was setting in. I had no idea whether she was a lesbian, and even if she was there was no reason why she'd be interested in a woman old enough to be her mother. I'd let my fantasies overlook the perfectly innocent rational behind her giving me her number.

'I've got to go' Sandra shouted down the phone, 'Bye'.

A few days later I wasn't surprised to see Sandra in the same tutorial group as me. She was talking to her friends as we went in and whilst she flashed a quick smile of recognition, that seemed to be all there was.

However at the end of the seminar, as I picked up her bag she and walked out she quickly caught up with me. 'Good book' she said.

'Very interesting,' I agreed, 'but I'm not sure I agreed with it all.'

She shook her head, 'Me, neither.' She paused, 'I've got to go to another seminar now, but I'd love to hear your views on it. Why don't you come over Saturday.'

I paused, was I getting the signs wrong again? Even if I was, being in the company of an attractive girl is better than not being in her company. She misread my silence 'I'll be a bit bored both my flatmates are going to be aware. It'll be great to someone who's got the same taste in literature. I'll even throw in dinner and a bottle of cheap wine.' Perhaps she hadn't misread my mind after all.

The upshot was that come late Saturday afternoon I was standing in front of the mirror, in just a pair of very brief knickers and bra. For a minute I admired my reflection. For a woman of forty I had very little fat or cellulite. And whilst my breasts had always been small, it meant that gravity had been kind to them and they remained firm. My face was described by my parents as Elfin, though my ears were small rather than pointed, and anyway were hidden behind my curly black hair.

I'd always made sure that the hair on my head was the only on my body. And just to make sure I'd waxed my legs and underarms, before shaving my pussy earlier that afternoon.

But what would I wear. I didn't want to appear to over the top or slutty. At the same time if Sandra was interested it wouldn't want to appear like I wasn't. But if I went in too slinky would I scare her off? But I might do the same if I dressed too scruffily.

In the end I ended up wearing a pair of tight jeans and a white blouse (one which you could see my bra through, but perhaps think it was by accident).

I shivered as I rang Sandra's doorbell. I had put on a light jacket, just to keep myself covered. But it wasn't the cold which made me shake.

Sandra opened the door and I could feel the warm air blow out. She was wearing a pair of denim shorts, with no shoes or socks and a black t-shirt. I entered and she took my coat. By the way her tits bounced against the black fabric I could tell she was braless.

'Hi, just in time', she said, 'Dinner's almost ready'. Walking into the lounge I could see she had already poured herself some wine into a plastic cup. Pulling another cup off the sideboard she pulled some for me, 'No glasses I'm afraid' as she handed it me.

I must admit the wine wasn't the nicest I'd ever had.

I went and sat down on the Sofa, whilst Sandra went to get the book. Returning Sandra sat next to me. So close I felt our legs touch. I looked at Sandra as she opened the book and set it on the table. She smiled back at me and didn't seem at all perturbed by our physical closeness. I moved closer and she seemed to be doing the same.

I could smell her perfume distinctly. You didn't put on perfume, not for a chat with a friend? I moved my hand from my lap and gently put it on Sandra's thigh. She was talking about the book, but made no attempt to move my hand. I began to gently caress her thigh. Still she made no attempt to move it or to acknowledge it.

We continued to talk about the book for a few minutes. Then Sandra sat back. 'Shall I put on some music.' Without waiting for an answer she stood up and walked to the hi-fi in the corner of the room. My hand went back to my lap.

The sound of a rock group I'd never heard of came from the speakers. It was at background volume so we could easily hear each other speak. Sandra began to sway slightly, smiling at me the whole time. Then she beckoned me up, 'Come on, let's dance'.

I stood up and walked over to her. Clasping my hands round her back we began to sway in time. I began to move my hands down her back, and felt my fingers inside her shorts. I began to gently rub the elastic of her thongs. I was looking into her eyes and we both leaned forward.

For a second our lips touch chastely and then our mouths opened. My tongue was in her mouth and then hers was in mine. My hands let go off her knicker elastic and began to rub her arse cheeks.

'Mmmnnnnn' she groaned as my tongue pressed harder into hers. Then she pulled away slightly, and took off her t-shirt.

'Nice?' Sandra asked. 'Very nice' I replied. I could feel her fingers starting to undo my blouse. When it was unbuttoned, she slid her hands in. She gently slid them round to my bra strap and clipped it off. I could feel the lace slide across my nipples as she began to pull it round.

I stepped back and looked at her. She was beautiful. Her breasts bounced as she still swayed slightly to the music. Dropping my bra to floor she cupped her tits and ran her fingers seductively over her nipples.

Moving towards her I got down to my knees. I slid down the zip of her shorts and stuck my tongue through the gap. Expertly I used it to push the light fabric of her thong away and started to probe her pussy. There was a slight tuft of hair, around it but not much. I licked the outside, now and then briefly darting my tongue inside and feeling her juices run over it. Sandra was running her hands through my hair, moaning in pleasure.

'You need a better grip' she moaned and temporarily pushed my head back. Then she undid the button and pulled both knickers and shorts too her ankles, before delicately stepping out of them.

I pushed her back onto the sofa and spread her legs.

'Oh Godddddddd' Sandra gasped as I buried my tongue down her pussy. The tip of it slid over her clitoris and I could feel the juices of her pussy gushing out and smothering my face. 'Oh myyyy Goddddddd'. Sandra was tensing and relaxing in time with her orgasms. Her back arched on the sofa and she pushed her hips further forward into my face.

Giving her clitoris one last lick I pulled my head back ' My turn now'.

Sandra lay breathing heavily for a few seconds, whilst I pulled off the remainder of my clothes and sat down on the sofa. Then she got down on her knees and pulled my legs apart. Her fingers began to caress just above my knee as she moved her head forward.

Then I could feel her tongue probing into me, delicately touching my pussy walls. At first she tongued slowly, then quicker and quicker. Stabbing my clit with my tongue and then after a brief second of almost imperceptible pleasure her tongue would hit somewhere else.

I moved one of hands to a nipple and began to massage it. The pleasure of my own hand and her tongue co-joined. And then she was concentrating on my clitoris. I realised that the animal grunts were coming from me and almost without realising it had grabbed her hands and were massaging them into mine as her head moved back and forth.

'Fuck me' I groaned as she finally moved my head away.

'With pleasure' Sandra replied as she moved her head forwards again.