More Fingers

Having given an account of my first lesbian experience, in 'Moving Finger,' introducing my colleague and potential lover Pamela, here is the sequel.

Pamela was in hospital some weeks, which coincided with the school summer vacation. I visited her most days, and it was usually possible to send my ever-willing hand into the bed and bring her release. I found this so exciting I always had to do the same for myself at home afterwards. She wanted graphic descriptions of exactly what I did, and those actually sped up the already short time it took her to climax. Inevitably, therefore, pretty soon she suggested that I not wait till later but come alongside her. The routine was:

When I arrived, I went into the bathroom to take off my panties, to put into the bedside cabinet for later use. This also saved possible complications if nurse or sister looked in through the curtains round the bed. Standing close to the bed with my back turned to her I made as if pouring her a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside locker. So that with her bandaged hands she could life my skirt, and make such remarks as, 'Tasty botty. Don't let Janet see that or she'll rape you.' Janet is the name I give to our physical education colleague, who, Pamela had said, was a highly active lesbian.

Then she wanted me to lift my skirt and bring my pussy as close to her face as possible, so that she could feast her eyes on it and sniff it. I was, actually, forbidden to wash it, though after more than a week I began to fear that others might also be enjoying my ripe aroma.

She wanted me to caress my clitoris, standing close like that, and fork my fingers in and out of my vagina. She especially liked the little sucking noise that made, and that was the first time I realised that sound is important in sexual activities. For example, the inimitable sound made by the movement of the loose skin on a penis during masturbation.

It was too risky to keep standing, and I couldn't, anyway, reach under the bedclothes easily in that position. So, I drew up a chair and sat close, sliding my right hand under the covers and homing in on her little 'man in the boat,' as she called it sometimes. My left hand sought my own little canoeist and I played us both like a pianist synchronising across the octaves. Bringing someone else to orgasm is the most exciting way of sparking your own, and we were both soon nearing the peak.

But she was a talker, one of those who like to work themselves up verbally, so that there was always quietly spoken dialogue:

'Can you slide up and down a bit? Yes, like that. Go inside now. Yes. I suppose I'm a virgin. Never had a man in there. Plenty of fingers though. Right. Back to the clitemnestra. Wish I wasn't lying on my bum. I like to have it stroked. It's not up to yours, but quite tidy.'

'I'm looking forward to it.'

'Lean back a bit. I want to see your crease. Yes, get some digits in that slot. I'm going to give that such a licking.'

'How am I doing, Pam? Anything happening in the boat?'

'You know there is. You can feel the hard. It's going to go in a minute. Are you?'

'Oh yes. I'd like to tweak my nipples, but I haven't got a spare hand.'

'I'm going to lick those into little rods. You'll see.'

'Not so little. You'll see. They're just about poking holes in my bra.'

'Leave that off when you come tomorrow?'

'Nurse would be shocked.'

'Sister would like it.'

'You're determined sister is saphic.'

'Never mind that now. I've got that thrill in the thighs. It's on the way! Yours?'

'Oh yes. Advantage of a big bottom -- more to clench and carry the climax.'

'Do it now, darling! Mine's going, going, going -- lovely, lovely!'

'Mine's going, now, now!' I announced on an indrawn breath, gripping my fingers within me by tightening my cheeks.

After a while I withdrew both hands and held them to her face for savouring and sniffing. 'Nectar,' she usually said.

Ten or twenty minutes later we were ready to go again, with her leading off:

'Have you got another go in that nub?'

'Taking off now,' as my hands delved between the sheets and into my bush.

'Oh, this'll be quick. You'll have a job to keep up.'

'No, it's zooming along. Is this the right speed?'

'Use the thumb with the fingers in the slot. That's it! It's here!'

Invariably I would come, too, sometimes without much build-up, straight from initial excitation to orgasm in a minute or so.

On several visits, we came three or four times, though we thought it unwise to keep the curtains drawn too long. Before leaving I would put on my panties, pulling up hard to gather in my crack and vestibule, collecting my abundant secretions. After taking them off again I would use them to mop up the slick on the chair and leave them in the cabinet for Pamela to enjoy later. Then I would collect yesterday's panties from there, put them in my handbag, and depart.

She told me that in the night, unable to sleep for lack of exercise and thinking of me, she would reach my panties from the cabinet, which needed both bandaged hands, and lay them across her face while she masturbated. After which she could sleep.

And then there was the morning when she had forgotten to stow the panties away again. She woke as sister came in at the start of the day-shift, fortunately before anyone else arrived. There were the panties on the pillow. Sister picked them up, without comment, folded them into a neat square, and put them in the bedside cabinet.

'Sleep well?' she asked, with a little smile. 'Sometimes difficult to sleep in hospital, and there are other things to count besides sheep.'