Virgin Whitlwind

Having recounted my first lesbian experience in 'Moving Finger,' 'More Fingers' and 'Fingers and Tongues,' I am remembering later encounters. For, after some interludes, with men and women, in the 1980s, I became in the 1990s, a lesbianyphomaniac, dedicated to woman-sex. And I discovered the ideal cunting-grounds: package holiday hotels in Spain and the Canaries. Inhibited English women are notorious for being avid for sex when abroad, and I discovered that some are willing to consider any sex at all, and married women can be tempted to experiment. Here is my first success:

1

Spain, June,1996. I walked up from the hotel to take coffee outside a café in Mijas. A woman of about sixty asked if she could join me, there being few places available. She was five feet eight or nine, with well-cut, short, white, feathery-looking hair. Black eyebrows, grey eyes, an aquiline nose and a ripe mouth curling up at the corners. Dressed, like me, in a short-sleeved check shirt and knee-length denim skirt, long socks, walking-boots and sun-hat.

Of course, I invited her to sit. She smiled warmly, took off her haversack and settled opposite me. It was difficult to review her figure because the shirt was loose and she was sitting on the rest of it, but I had the impression of small breasts and a biggish bottom. I also had the impression this was a wise woman, but with almost no sexual experience. A combination which made me damp in the pussy department. [I can add here that her measurements turned out to 35-24-44].

This lady was for me! But I would need to convince her of it, and I would be starting from scratch, as I suspected she would not understand the usual signals. Under that shirt and skirt were breasts and pussy unawakened, but, I was sure, ready for enlightenment.

She was aware of my scrutiny, but untroubled and studying me. She said, 'I think you're staying in the hotel down the hill? I'm Lorna.' She offered an enormous hand.

My hand was engulfed. I told her my name, agreed about the hotel, and suggested that, like me, she was a walker. Yes, she was, and was keen to find her way into the countryside. Perhaps we could scout together? A waiter appeared and she ordered coffee for us. After which there were the usual polite enquiries and observations. I liked her directness and wry humour.

'One look and you know what I was,' she said. 'School-mistress, retired now, but can you guess the subject?'

This gave permission to study her further, while she smiled and studied me. 'I thought geography,' I told her, 'But you ordered the coffee in Spanish, so maybe modern languages.'

'Languages, yes. I like to study them before going on holiday, but -?' She raised those black eyebrows into the white hair.

'Without warning, as a whirlwind swoops on an oak, love shakes my heart,' I said.

'Aha,' she said, laughing, 'Sappho! Do you know it in the Greek?'

'I'm not sure of the pronunciation, because I learned it from a book, but I'll try.'

'Pretty good,' she approved, giving the line correctly.

The coffee arrived, she thanked the waiter and asked for glasses of water in Spanish.

'Shouldn't you be at Delphi or Thermopylae?' I asked.

'Been there, and Mycenae and the Acropolis, everywhere, several times, but now they're mobbed with tourists. Do you do Latin as well?'

'My Lesbia, let us love without caring about old men's gossip.'

'Very neat! From Sappho, the Lesbian to Catullus's Lesbia. Do you know the Latin?'

'Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus, rumoresque senum severiorum omnes unius estimemus assis!' I recited.

'Did you learn that from a book, too?'

'Partly, but I also took a course at university.'

.'You know what I did, forty years of grammar school classics. What about you?'

A possible opening. 'I started like you, teaching in a girls' grammar. Then I did some degrees and was an academic, and nowadays I'm an art dealer.'

'All kinds of art?'

'Erotic art,' I ventured.

'Interesting. I've not come across that much. I don't think you mean those magazines in the newsagents with naked ladies baring their bosoms and behinds?'

Not shockable, then? 'No, paintings and sculptures. You'd be amused at how many classical subjects my artists draw on. Literally.'

'I can guess. Leda, Pasiphae, Danae?' She was quick on the uptake.

'Aphrodites all over, naturally, and Andromedas. You should see what that sea-monster gets up to. Or gets up.'

'Perseus turns up a little late in the day?' she offered.

'Well, sometimes there's a sequel.'

'Too good an opportunity for him to miss,' she grinned.

'Oh, he doesn't miss, I promise you. There's even one version in which Pegasus gets his turn, too.'

She did look a little taken aback for a moment. The waiter returned with a jug of water and glasses. She rallied, and said, 'Well, why not? If swans and bulls, why not horses?'

'Well, that brings in the centaurs,' I said, 'Very popular. Especially with the titanesses.'

'I can imagine,' she said quietly.

'Lady centaurs, too, and not just with the stallion ones.'

'Well, there are plenty of clues in the myths to use,' she said.

'Good old Ovid,' I said. 'Plenty of hints there.'

We fell silent, finished the coffee. She poured the water and we drank. Then she said, 'Shall we explore a bit? I'd like to get out of the town and find some countryside.'

'I was going to suggest just that,' I said. 'Have you got some food? The hotel made me a packed lunch. Ah, for you, too. Good. Better have some more water. It's hot.'

We gulped down another glass, stood, hitched on our packs and set off. Everything was proceeding nicely. Walking often promotes confidences, so I was hopeful. She had seemed quite interested in the art, not repelled, possibly a little excited by the imagined sex, though my intuition was telling me again she had precious little, if any, direct experience, of even the most conventional kinds.

We were soon out of town and into pleasant rolling hills with no-one in sight, which prompted her to observe, 'It's like this almost everywhere, including Greece. Once you're out of the resorts and centres you can be alone for hours. Or you can walk with a companion,' she gave me a shy smile. 'Which is a rare treat, for me.'

'It's a treat for me, too,' I said. 'I think we might get on pretty well. Perhaps we can have dinner together tonight?'

'With pleasure. We're both alone, I think? Yes. We can keep each other company.'

We shook hands again and strode on a little slower, resuming our conversation.

'How do you acquire these provocative works of art?' she asked.

'The artists mostly bring them to the gallery. The grapevine tells them where.'

She paused, framing a question. 'Are these artists... stimulated by their art?'

'Often, they are, yes,' I said. 'As am I.'

'Does that mean...?'

'Yes, it does,' I assured her. 'We have some happy and satisfying meetings.'

She walked a little faster, not to get away, but to divert her attention from the images and ideas suggested. Virgin or not, she was, I was sure, excited.

'Forgive my curiosity, but all this is new to me. Are these artists mostly men?' she said.

'Men, women and trans-women.'

'Oh. These trans-women, do they have -?'

'Yes, they have breasts and penises.'

'And can they -?'

'Yes, they certainly can.'

She held back a moment, then stopped walking. I stopped walking. She said, 'Forgive me again and don't answer if you'd rather not. Do you have -?'

'Do I have sex with them. Yes, I do, and with the women and even some of the men.'

She began walking again, slowly, thinking. 'You know, don't you, that I've never -?'

'I did guess so, yes, though I'm surprised,' I said.

'No, it's not surprising. When I was young the men found me daunting, because I was clever, didn't have any small talk and didn't want to play those will-you-won't-you games. Besides my bust was too small and my behind was too big. And I just didn't think about women in that way.'

'But you must have taken care of yourself sometimes?'

'Well, yes, I did, but it was never very satisfying, because I so much wanted someone else to do it.'

I risked asking, 'Would you have gone with a woman if one had offered?'

She backed off for a moment. 'This is the most intimate conversation I've ever had.'

We kept walking and I waited a little. Then, 'I apologise if I've been too pressing, too outspoken. Perhaps you'd prefer to turn back, not to have dinner?'

She stopped abruptly, turned to me and put her hand on my arm. 'Oh, no, please. I'm not at all offended. The opposite. It's very interesting. I'm not too old to learn, and my dear old Greeks were pretty liberal in their tastes, all those men with boys, and Sappho with her girls. Not to mention the myths. You can't be a prude if you're a classicist.'

'So, you never had sex with anyone. Did no-one ever touch you up?'

'You've been open with me, so I'll tell you the nearest I ever came. It was a woman, a colleague, when I was in my thirties. She said she found me attractive and wanted to come to my bedsit, and I was keen to learn then, too, and she was pretty. I could imagine us kissing and cuddling and touching each other, and I believed it would be so much better than my touching myself. Well, she came and we got undressed and lay on my bed, and we kissed and cuddled and it was enjoyable and exciting, but she wouldn't touch me otherwise or let me touch her. She wanted us just to lie side by side and touch ourselves. She wanted to see me doing that, and she kept wanting me to stroke my bust and show her my behind while she was fingering herself and getting more worked up until she --'

'Came -- had an orgasm.'

'That's right. Of course, I know the word, but I've never used it.'

'Though you had given yourself orgasms?'

'Yes,' she said sadly, 'But, as I told you, they weren't very satisfactory.'

'That colleague, then,' I guessed, 'She was married and wouldn't make love properly because that would be being unfaithful.'

'Clever of you.'

'Threw her knickers back on and shot off home,' I suggested.

'Yes. Leaving me feeling so...frustrated...and I couldn't even give myself an... orgasm that time. It just didn't work.'

She turned away and resumed walking, and I wondered if this was the crucial moment. 'Lorna,' I said, 'I'm so sad to hear that. I don't suppose you let her come to you again. That was so selfish of her, just using you like that.'

She squared her shoulders and marched more quickly. 'Oh well, it was a long time ago. I got over it. Too old to think about such things now.'

'On the other hand,' I said, 'Did you never imagine on one of your holidays that you might meet someone and finally make love?'

'You do know it all, don't you? Yes, of course I did.'

'I always imagine that myself,' I said.

It was now obvious where we had arrived. I could see her arriving there. She said, 'You've had designs on me since I asked to sit at your table, haven't you?'

'I'm not the only one who knows things,' I said. 'You know I have.'

'You really find me...attractive?'

'You know I do.'

'Even though I'm sixty-three with a small bust and a big behind?'

'Lorna,' I said, 'I long to see that splendid bottom of yours, but the question is, do you find me attractive?'

'You know I do. Ever since you talked about having women I've been thinking about you having me. Oh, goodness, I've never said such a thing before!'

'Lorna,' I said, taking her hand and stopping her, 'I'm going to give you orgasms like Sappho's whirlwind, and you're going to give me orgasm after orgasm, starting right now.'

'You're going to teach me? But shouldn't we wait to get back to the hotel?'

'There's no-one about, and I can't wait. You can probably see the wet on my legs.'

'I'm feeling a bit damp down there, too. I'd better take off my pants, then.'

'Not yet,' I said, 'Part of the excitement and joy of it is undressing. Go with me. Take off your haversack...Now unbutton your shirt, as I do mine. Now I can see your sweet little bosoms hiding in that practical pair of triangles. Take off the shirt now...undo the bra...and slide it off...oh, they really are sweet. I love the way they point outwards and those gorgeous nipplets point upwards...You can talk, too, you know -- that's part of the enjoyment.'

'All right,' she said, 'Well, look at them -- too small and far apart to cleave. Whilst yours...yes, your bra off, too. Yours are so big and hang close together like that...your nipples are growing in the air. Mine get bigger, too, but not as much as yours. This is so extraordinary! I'm standing on a Spanish hillside looking at a woman's bosom and talking about nipples.'

'Is that good, though?'

'It's marvellous. Tell me what to do now.'

'Sit on your shirt and take off your boots and socks, while I do the same, or we'll kick each other in the shins when we take each other.'

'Take each other! We really are going to take each other?'

'Yes, we are. I'm looking up your skirt. I can see your knickers, and what lovely long legs you have, and smooth thighs. Stand up and take off your skirt...don't be shy.'

'I'm not shy at all. How could I be? There you are, now you can see my pants.'

'Bit of a surprise when I take my skirt off. Voila!'

'No pants! Do you really go about without them?'

'I like the wind in my hair. As you see, there's plenty of it.'

'Well, you're in for a bit of a surprise, too, when I take mine off,' she said, grinning.

'Go on, then, surprise me.'

She pushed her knickers below her knees, straightened up again and said 'Echo!'

I was astonished. Her pussy fur was white and feathery. 'Amazing,' I said, 'I've seen every colour from blonde to black, via red and grey, but never white.'

'Well, I don't know much about the colour of hair in that area, but I guessed mine was a bit unusual. I know some women's falls out after the change, but mine didn't.'

I said, 'Let me see that magnificent bottom...That's one of the most beautiful bottoms I've ever seen.' From her narrow waist, it curved out sideways and backwards, the cheeks naturally separated at their outermost surfaces. 'We're already making love, Lorna, but the touching starts now,' and I began to stroke those smooth, bulging buttocks.

She shuddered. 'That's very nice. I never thought my behind was worth attention. No-one ever touched it.'

'Oh, most bottoms like touch,' I said. 'Mine does. Come into my arms now and we can hug and stroke bottoms...oh yes, that's delicious...now kiss me...' She was a little reluctant at first to open her mouth but quickly began to enjoy the mutual exploration, while the bottom-stroking went on. I thought mine was quite large but hers was larger. I slid the four fingers of one hand into her crack and they went in up to the knuckles.

'That feels strange,' she said, 'Do you like being poked in there? Yes, you do. Ah, we're going to kiss some more. This is French kissing, isn't it? I do remember one or two boys doing that when I was a girl. But this is much nicer.' And with her hand probing into my crack she thrust her mouth onto mine.

When we stopped the kissing, we lay down on our shirts, she on her back, and I began to caress her breasts with lips and tongue. Her breasts were shallow and round, like overturned saucers, and her nipples were rounded, like little raspberries. She cupped her hand round my head and held me as I licked and sucked. 'That is so nice,' she said, 'I thought it would be when I stroked them myself. I'm tingling inside them.'

'Now I want to look at that beautiful white pussy,' I said, and moved to do so, sliding down her body in our sweat. And if that long, silky, fine-filamented maidenhair was unusual, her labia were equally so. Because the outer lips folded together with no sign of the inner ones. I could see why one euphemism for the vulva is 'front bottom,' because this one consisted of plump, fleshy folds with a slit between them.

One of my little essays. On minge. The inner lips vary greatly in how much they protrude from the outer. Mine hang down about two inches. I have seen labia which descend four or five inches, and those, trans-women and men tell me, are the more delightful, because they lap round the cock as it withdraws, adding to the length of the slippery grasp

I know there are women who are ashamed of or dislike long labia, but they should rejoice in their capacity to offer extra enjoyment to their partners. I like, myself, to pull those fleshy lips into my mouth and suck.

I said to Lorna, 'I'm going to open you. Don't be surprised.' And I gently pulled those bare ridges apart. The labia minora were minimal, like a crinkly edging to the vulva, which was deep and shiny with her sweet secretions. The perfume was unusual, too, the sweaty, vaginal odour almost lost in a powerful spicy aroma.

Reverently I applied my tongue-tip to the crease just in front of the vestibule and drew it upwards. She gasped. 'Is that your tongue? How marvellous that you want to do that.'

'It's the most wonderful thing in the world to do,' I said, pausing a moment, 'And shortly I shall home in on your clitoris.'

She was breathing faster, but said, 'Another word I know but never heard or used. Cli-tor-is. That's where I wanted Caroline to touch me, of course.'

I resumed licking along that delicious, untouched crevice and moved onto her clit. To get to it I had to prize open the uppermost inch of that labial crack. Her clit nestled deeply in the pink folds, its presence betrayed only by the hood. It was hiding, and I was seeking.

At the first touch of my tongue she flinched and exclaimed, 'Oooh!'

'Sensitive, isn't it?' I said, pausing a moment. 'Just let it happen. The feeling will build up in it and spread into your pussy and bottom.'

I resumed and she began to breathe deeply, tense her thighs and release again. I pushed a hand under her and wriggled fingers into her crack. She bucked up and down, uttering little gasps and squeaks. I paused again and said, 'Grip on my fingers...that's right. You're nearly there, aren't you. Tell me when you're going to come, if you can.' My tongue probed, lapped, and my lips squirmed against her labia.

'I think I'm going to...come. That's the word, isn't it?'

I intensified my ministrations and felt her orgasm gather deep inside her, set off by the exquisite sensation in that half-hidden clitoris, till she said, as if unable to believe it, 'I am coming, I'm really coming...' This was the warning, before the whirlwind swooped on that little seedling. Her bottom went to marble and crushed my fingers. Her pelvis jerked upwards, side to side and slammed down on my trapped hand. She emitted a shrill keening sound through clenched teeth and clamped her hands on my head, forcing my nose into the white fluff.

As the whirlwind abated she giggled and crowed, then pulled at my head to urge me back up her body, so that she could hold me tightly in her arms, squashing my breasts against hers and kissing my forehead and cheeks wetly. She said, 'I just didn't know. I think I knew about licking the cli-tor-is, but I thought it was a strange practice people didn't usually do.'

'There are probably more women's orgasms going on in the world right now,' I said, 'From cunnilingus than from any other practice.'

'So much Latin,' she said, 'Vagina, labia, cunnilingus.'

'Catullus should have used them in a poem,' I said. 'Don't forget vulva.'

'And Greek. "Orgasmos," swelling. Oh, it's wonderful. Here we are, naked and sweaty, after my first proper orgasmos, and we're talking etymology.'

'Soon your second orgasmos,' I told her, 'This time with some dactylos in your kolpos, to complete your deflowering, though you've probably felt up there yourself'

'Not much. As I told you, I wanted someone else to do it.' She hugged me tight and said, like a little girl anticipating a present, 'And you're going to, aren't you? Take me again.'