Introduction:
My name is Katherine, Katie to my friends. I’m a PA to a senior director of a large corporation, and have been for many years now. I began as a humble secretary after finishing secretarial college when I was twenty.
There was a fateful day in my life when everything seemed to change. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I was shopping for a new pair of shoes for a party. I stepped backwards away from a rack in a shoe store, and I quite literally bumped into another shopper, doing exactly the same. We both turned around to apologise, the way you do, and I noticed that the other shopper was an attractive girl in her mid to late teens. You often can’t tell how old a teenage girl is; due to the effect make-up has on her facial features. I was buying alcohol and getting into eighteen rated films by the time I was fifteen.
Unusually for me I got talking to the girl in the store, and we talked about fashions, make-ups, and other ‘girlie’ things. The store was crowded so it took us a while to get served, and I suggested that the two of us get some lunch, simply because I was feeling hungry; I wasn’t trying to pick the girl up; girls weren’t my thing. I was no cheap slapper, unlike some of my friends from secretarial college who would shag anything in a pair of trousers, but I liked to think that I was a red-blooded man eater.
During the conversation, we introduced ourselves to the other. Her name was Joanna, and she worked in the fast-food bar that was just along the corridor, but she wasn’t particularly happy with the job. She was a little over sixteen and a half, and quite talkative. Although I don’t usually give away my phone numbers to strangers, there was something about Joanna that made me trust her, so we traded phone numbers and arranged to meet up the following weekend, for lunch, after Joanna finished her shift. We duly met up, and we got on like a house on fire, despite the age difference between us.
One evening, a couple of weeks later, my phone rang, at home, as I was getting all dolled up to go out, and it was Joanna. She’d had a bust-up at work with a colleague, and had been suspended. She was upset and wanted someone to talk to. I was scheduled to go out with a few friends from secretarial college in less than an hour, so I invited Joanna to join us for a drink. I didn’t know why she’d picked me to talk to; perhaps because I was many years older than she was, and I seemed worldly wise by comparison, which I suppose I was. However, if anyone had said that to me, I’d probably have taken it quite badly. It would have made me sound as if I was getting old, and at twenty-five, nearly twenty-six, I didn’t class myself as getting old.
I directed my taxi driver to Joanna’s place and picked her up, then I took her to the bar where I always met up with the girls, and during the evening, she seemed to cheer up. A work colleague had tried to hit on her, and she had hit him, with a dustpan. A week’s suspension had followed for him for his behaviour, and a two week suspension for her, for what amounted basically to common assault, although she was lucky and he hadn’t wanted to press charges the way he could have. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have been inclined to stand up in front of a magistrate and say, “That little sixteen-year old girl hit me because I tried to get her into my bed and wouldn’t take ‘Piss off, you arrogant shit,’ for an answer!” That was exactly the response that Joanna had given him, word for word, causing a ripple of laughter. She may have had the body of a young lady, and the face of an angel, but Joanna didn’t have the vocabulary to go with either of those; her vocabulary was far closer to vulgar ladette, than to any sort of lady.
Joanna went back to my place with me after the bar, and we sat, drank what little white wine I had left in my fridge, and talked, into the small hours of the morning. When we walked out to the taxi that Joanna had ordered, I felt as if I’d known her since she was just a little girl. I wasn’t sure why, at the time, but I gave Joanna a twenty pound note to pay for the taxi. She hadn’t asked me for it, but I could spare it on my salary, far easier than I figured she could on hers, which wasn’t very good really. Twenty-six to thirty hours a week on minimum wage, (at the lower rate due to her age,) wasn’t exactly great, was it? Her eyes lit up at the casual way I just gave away a twenty like that.
After that, we met up a couple of nights a week; sometimes going out for a drink with my friends, going to the cinema, or just sitting in front of my TV with a small bottle of wine and a big pizza. Sometimes we’d go out with what few friends Joanna had, but I didn’t seem to be well received by them; perhaps because of my age, or perhaps because I was monopolising Joanna’s time; we weren’t sure, so we agreed not to do that, and to be honest, Joanna didn’t really seem to miss her friends anyway. Before too long, she wasn’t going home in a taxi on a night; she was staying in my guest bedroom, and I was driving her home in the morning; always after I made her breakfast.
For the first time in my life, I was starting to develop feelings for another woman; just a slip of a girl really, and at first, I was scared of what it might mean for me. Had I always been a bit bi-sexual, just not realising, or refusing to admit it? Had it taken me that long to find a woman I could love, hoping that she just might love me in return? I’d had very little luck with boyfriends in the previous couple of years, so what did I really have to lose in trying to date a woman? There was little I was willing to do at first, not even try to kiss the shy, yet gorgeous little thing. I was twenty-five and Joanna was still only sixteen, clearly too young for me to try anything on with, and that was only if she returned the feelings I was developing for her, and to fair, I doubted that. She hadn’t given me any indication of having any feelings for me.
One Monday night, quite late, I was sitting in front of the TV, watching whatever crap was on it, bored half out of my skull, and suddenly there was a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so I walked to the door and peered through the peep-hole, rather than open it. Standing on the other side of the front door was Joanna, without so much as a coat, in the pelting rain.
I opened the door, and she stepped through, looked considerably distraught. I got her into the living room, and, as she was soaked to the skin and shivering, I gave her the glass of cognac I’d only just poured for myself. Joanna knocked that back, coughing as the alcohol hit the back of her throat. Not really being sure of what to do after that, I offered her one of my bathrobes, and suggested that she go into the shower while I got her some clean, dry, clothes out of my wardrobe, which I left on the floor outside the bathroom.
A few minutes later, Joanna appeared downstairs in my clothes, and I made her a cup of tea. She apologised for being a nuisance, and for arriving at such a late hour. Then she explained why. The previous weekend had been a birthday party for a friend of Joanna’s from work, which had been a pretty good party. Joanna had headed home in a taxi afterwards, having enjoyed herself. The idiot at work who had hit on her a few months earlier was telling everyone how she’d left with him, and boasting that he’d gotten her into bed and popped her cherry. That very morning at work, she’d heard what he’d been saying, and there had been an almighty bust-up, because he was clearly lying. She was quite sober when she left the party and got into her taxi to go home, and she knew that she’d gone home alone, and with her cherry intact.
That was sexual harassment, and Joanna complained about it to her boss, who didn’t really seem to be concerned about it. Truth be told, Joanna knew that she didn’t get the job due to her qualifications; she hadn’t many of them after all. She got the job because she was eye-candy for the public; she was there simply to draw attention. Joanna knew that she was there to persuade teenage boys and young men to eat at the place she worked, to stare at her, and for no other reason.
If her boss wasn’t going to take her complaint seriously, then, quite understandably, she didn’t want to keep the job, so she stormed off home, and was intending to quit. Her adopted parents were insisting that she couldn’t just quit, because she clearly couldn’t afford that. She was too young to claim any benefits, so she’d have no wages and therefore she’d have no money, and they couldn’t afford to support her. Lying bastards that they were; they had plenty of money and could easily give her financial support for the following few weeks or months; I would have in their place. My parents had for me in a similar situation. They’d even suggested that I chuck the job if I wasn’t happy in it. I wasn’t happy in it, but I was too proud to quit; too proud to let that bitch beat me. So I stuck at the job, and she quit!
She started to cry on my shoulder, so I simply held her and let her cry. When she’d finished crying, and I’d dried her tears, I succumbed to the temptation to kiss her, right on those full, shapely, red lips. There was a little gasp of surprise from Joanna and she recoiled slightly from me. Panicked, I released her from my grasp, leaned back, and I can clearly remember sitting there, thinking, “Oh shit! My reputation is going to go right down the…” That was as far as I got before Joanna leaned forward again and planted her lips onto mine.
I relaxed into the kiss, although it was instantly clear to me that Joanna didn’t have any real idea of how to kiss, and I was genuinely surprised that a beautiful girl like Joanna clearly hadn’t been kissed before. By the time I got to her age, I was on the pill and had been sleeping with my first serious boyfriend for the best part of six months.
Joanna, on the other hand, was unmistakeably innocent. Clearly, as she was still only sixteen, we couldn’t take it much further, without me breaking the law, so when I found myself reaching for her tits, I pulled my hands back, not expecting that she would have realised what I was doing. However Joanna had noticed and she grabbed my wrists, placing both hands where I had intended to put them. Her tits were quite warm, through the thin cotton blouse she was wearing, firm and full, and they felt nice in my hands; especially as she wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could feel her nipples pressing into the palms of my hands. As one of my ex-boyfriends had said about my own tits, “A nice firm handful to play with.” That was the first time I’d fondled another girl’s tits, but it took me one step closer to understanding men. I realised why blokes enjoy fondling girls’ tits; it feels nice to have a large pair, like Joanna’s in my hands. It’s also nice to know that the owner of them is quite happy letting you feel them. It is a sign that she thinks enough of you, and trusts you enough to permit it.
Her hands found my tits and began to gently knead them, just the way men had done before, and the way I quite enjoyed. We broke the embrace, and neither of us really wanted to look into the other’s eyes for a while. “I can’t believe I just did that,” said Joanna, with a shy smile, “but I quite enjoyed it.”
“I’m having much the same thoughts,” I confessed. “I can’t believe that I just did it either, but I also enjoyed it. Does that make us lesbians?”
“I’ve wondered that for a while, Katie. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way…but…I know that I’m attracted to you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, so I’m not really sure what it means. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, so perhaps I am a lesbian. You’ve had boyfriends, so clearly you can’t be strictly a lesbian. Perhaps you’re a closet bi-sexual, just coming out, for the first time.”
“I’ve being trying to deny it to myself, but I feel the same way about you.”
Joanna looked much happier at the confession and said, “That makes me feel a whole lot better, Katie. Can I stay the night, please, because I don’t want to face my parents at the moment?”
“You can stay as long as you like,” I assured her. “I won’t worry about my home while you’re here, and I’ll give you the spare set of keys, and the alarm code. You won’t steal anything will you?” I asked with a smile on my face, to show that I wasn’t serious.
She just smiled right back at me and said, “If you thought that I might be a thief, you wouldn’t have made the offer. You know that you can trust me, and you know that I won’t do anything to upset you; don’t you? Besides which, you know where I live! You know where to send the police to have me arrested if anything goes missing. What time will you be home from work tomorrow? I’ll have tea ready for you.”
“About half past five, but you needn’t make a meal for me.”
“I want to, to repay you for your kindness.”
The following evening, after tea, and after we’d washed up, we were standing in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil in the kettle, and I said to Joanna, “If you don’t want to go back to work, then don’t. My spare room is yours for as long as you want it.”
“I can’t afford to rent your spare room if I’m not working.”
“I’m not offering to rent it to you. I know you won’t be able to pay, so I’m offering to give it to you for as long as you need it, while you’re looking for a new job.”
“No Katie, I couldn’t. I couldn’t sponge off you like that.”
“Sponge?” I laughed. “You’ve told me that you’re attracted to me, and I’ve told you that I feel the same about you. You’ve grabbed my tits and stuck your tongue into my mouth, and I’ve done the same to you. Obviously we can’t take it any further than that, without me risking arrest and imprisonment for unlawful sex with a minor; assuming that was what you wanted. I feel like a stupid schoolgirl again for the first time in years.” Not really being sure of what to do, I stepped close to Joanna, stared into her lovely green eyes, and wrapped my arms around her. “Girlfriends?” I asked.
“Yes!” was the emphatic reply, as she put her arms around my waist, and got a firm grip on my arse. “If I’m still your girlfriend when I reach eighteen, I will want you to fuck me. In fact, if you want to fuck me before then, I won’t have you arrested. I’ll share your bed tonight if you’ll let me; I’m willing enough to let you have my cherry.”
I felt tears in my eyes at that moment; she was offering to sleep with me if I wanted, despite her age. “In that case, I’ll become the provider for myself and my partner. I have no debts,” I told her. “I inherited the house from an uncle, so I own it outright. I traded his car in for something more manageable, and still had some spare cash left. I have a good salary from my employer, and I will willingly support my first girlfriend, quite happily. I had already realised that I’m at my happiest when you are around me, so if you want to stay permanently, then I want you to stay, but no fucking until you’re eighteen; my conscience wouldn’t let me sleep with you until then.”
She looked into my eyes, whispered, “Thank you Katie; you won’t regret it. I promise you that you won’t,” and just burst into tears again. As she did that, I held her to me, aware of the firm grip she still had on my arse, and I wondered how the fuck I was going to explain to the girls, how, at just turned twenty-six, I had ended up with a sixteen year old girlfriend, who was moving in with me!
“I know that I won’t regret it, honey,” I all but whispered into her ear as she cried onto the front of my blouse.
Later that day, I drove her to her parents’ house and we told them a partial truth. We told them that I was going to put her up until she could find a new job. They didn’t like it, and tried to convince her to go back to work, and stay with them. That attempt ended when I put them in their places. “Just because you are too tight to maintain your adopted daughter, don’t tar everyone with the same brush. She’s a good friend to me, and I, at least, will look after her. Do you know why she wants to quit that dead end job? Some twat is claiming to have gotten her drunk and screwed her after a party and a bunch of twats are taking the piss, and you don’t appear to care in the slightest, about the slur on Joanna’s reputation, only being worried about your bloody bank balance!
You want to make her go back to that job, and you call yourselves parents? If I had parents like you. I’d disown the inconsiderate bastards! I’ll take your daughter in to my home and I’ll and support her if you won’t. She can have my spare room until she’s working again, and can afford to rent herself a flat nearby. I have the money, and I’m willing to spend it on a friend in need. I’ll buy her everything she needs because I can. I’ll pay for her to learn to drive, and I’ll get her a car to drive to interviews, if she hasn’t found work by then. She’ll need a good suit to wear, and I’ll supply her with that too. Why am I going to do this? Because her own bloody parents won’t! Despite her youth, she’s a good friend to me and she’s good company.”
As Joanna’s adoptive father tried to interrupt me, I sort of ‘stomped’ on him. “I’m not finished yet, you tight fisted bastard! No doubt you’re wondering what I’m going to get out of the arrangement? Jo’s offered to keep house for me; wash, iron, cook and clean. She’s going to be the most expensive house-keeper I can imagine, but I don’t care! She’ll be good company for me, and I’m looking forward to that. I’m single at the moment, after my last boyfriend dumped me for some dirty little trollop with king-sized knockers and knickers like a yo-yo. I wouldn’t get into his bed so he waved bye-bye to me, in favour of some cheap slag he picked up in a bar. She gave him the pox too, and it served him right. In fact, he reminds me of you!”
We just walked out of the living room and packed all of what Joanna owned, although it took three trips in the car to carry it all. The last thing I did was to give Joanna’s parents my address and landline telephone number, before we left, in case they could be bothered to either ‘phone or visit.
Neither of us had any real idea of what we were going to do in our new life as lovers. Obviously we couldn’t sleep together, because that was illegal, but we could be happy together anyway. The following morning I went to work after bunging a load of washing in the machine. When I got home, it was dried, ironed and folded, ready to be put away, and I was quite surprised. I hadn’t expected Joanna to have done all of that, and said so.
She just smiled at me and said, “It wasn’t as if I had a great else to do, Katie. I can’t pay you board money, or pay a share of the domestic bills; you won’t even let me fuck, so I thought that I may as well earn my keep the only way I can; by doing housework. Let me do these things, please; I’ll feel better if you do.”
“I’m not going to try to stop you, honey, if that’s how you feel, because I’ve always hated ironing.”
“Good. I’ll be a good wife to you, Katie, I promise I will.”
“A good wife? You’re only sixteen, Jo, with a lot ahead of you yet. Just because we are attracted to each other, doesn’t mean we’ll be able to make it work out, but I will try my best, and I’m sure you will too. I’ll try my hardest to be a good husband to you. Not that I have the slightest idea how to be, but I will try.”
We were visited by Joanna’s parents after a few days. There’d been no contact from her, and they accepted that she wasn’t going to move back in, so they came to see her. I suggested that she give them a tour of the house, to see what they would say. They seemed surprised that Joanna and I were sleeping in separate beds. It was clear that they thought I was sleeping with her already, despite her age, and didn’t make much of an effort to hide that fact. We both knew that if things continued the way they were, then it was only a matter of time until that started to happen.
It was Joanna who put them in their places that time, and she lied through her teeth! She told them I’d taken her in because I was a good friend despite the short time we’d known each other. I didn’t want to see her upset, and she’d volunteered to be my housekeeper, as I had said a few days earlier, to pay her way, seeing as she had no money. She told them we weren’t lovers, which we really weren’t, back then. She pointed to pictures of my ex boyfriends on the shelves, to convince them that girls weren’t my thing, and they believed her. More fool them then; especially if they couldn’t recognise the fact that the girl they’d raised from the age of fourteen months, was lying to their faces with a smile on her lips.
Less than ten seconds after they got out of the front door, we were kissing in the hall, and for the first time Joanna put her hands up my top and popped my tits out of my half cups, and began to caress them. She was turning me on, and I wanted to stop her doing that, because she was too young for me to have sex with. Normally when a man did that to me, we used to head for my bed, or his, depending on where we were, and we did it rather quickly. I tried to stop her, but she didn’t want to stop, and said, “Then I’ll keep my knickers on, and cross my legs, so no-one can accuse you of that. Let me play with your boobs for a while, baby, they feel so soft, and nice, under my fingers.” What could I say to that?
So we stayed where we were, like a couple of school kids, kissing and fondling each others’ tits, getting more and more turned on. I almost laughed when I felt Joanna clearly cross her legs as she stood in front of me. We both knew that we were going to have to stop soon, or who knew where it would end. I ended up breaking the embrace, trying not to hurt Joanna’s feelings, and stepped away from her. She took it quite well, knowing what had to be done, and we returned to the living room, and put some popcorn into the microwave, before putting on a movie. All we did after that was exchange the odd kiss, after agreeing not to grope each other’s tits for the rest of the night, and watch the film.
As we tidied up and went to bed, Joanna said to me, “Goodnight Katie, I love you.” There; one of us had actually said it, and it was out in the open. “I love you too, Joanna,” I replied. “Can we trust ourselves to share a bed do you think?”
“No, I don’t. We’ll do something silly, and you know we will.”
“You’re probably right, honey, good night.” We kissed and went to our respective beds, and I think it was the hardest parting I’d done in quite a while.
Despite living with me, and doing all my domestic chores, Joanna wasn’t keen on asking me for anything, no matter how little it cost. There was a particular Saturday afternoon we’d gone shopping, and I could see her eying up a particularly nice dress. I offered to buy her the dress, but she wouldn’t let me; objecting to my spending a considerable sum of money on a dress for her, so I let it go. I bought her the dress the following Monday on my lunch break, and presented it to her that evening after we’d had our tea. At first she didn’t want to accept it, but seeing as I wasn’t planning on taking it back, she accepted it eventually, and looked very nice in it too. It took me quite a while to convince Joanna that if she saw something she wanted, then all she had to do was say so, and it was very unlikely that I’d refuse to buy it for her.
For her seventeenth birthday, I paid the fee to get Joanna her provisional driving license, and booked her first twenty lessons with the instructor I learned from. I also added her onto my own insurance, and let her drive my car when we went out together. At first she was too worried about damaging my car to drive it, but as her confidence increased, she permitted herself to drive us around. Along with those, I also gave her a credit card on my own account, even though it took her months to actually put anything on it.
About four months after Joanna moved in with me, we were out shopping in the centre where Joanna used to work, and I suggested we go into her old workplace and stir up some trouble. My suggestion was, “If the dickhead who claimed that he fucked you is in there, we’ll demonstrate to all there, how much of liar he is.”
“How are we gonna do that,” Joanna asked me.
“Easy honey; you stick your tongue down my throat, and both hands up my t-shirt to grab my tits when one of them is looking at us. Demonstrate your lesbianism, and there’ll be lots of piss-taking going on by the time we leave. It’ll ruin his reputation entirely.”
It took her most of the meal to find the nerve, but, blushing slightly, she did! She leaned across the bench seat to kiss me, and for the first time in quite a while, I got myself vigorously groped in a public place. It made me feel so dirty, and it was great fun. We got banned from the fast food bar for life, but who the fuck even cared? We could see no reason why we would want to go in there again anyway.
When we got home, I gave the girl I loved something of a reward for her courage. I stripped myself naked from the waist up, the way she’d been pestering me to do me to for a while, and I let her touch, feel and suck my tits, until they were sticky with her saliva, my sensitive nipples were sticking up, and her own blouse and bra were on the floor, and she was all but begging me to suck on her nipples the same way. She was blushing a little because she’d never bared her tits like that for anyone. Going in the school showers after PE didn’t really count, because the girls didn’t really pay a great deal of attention to each others’ tits. Joanna didn’t worry about her tits back then, or so she’d said.
Given the size they were, she had nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing that the other girls would have taken the piss about, the way they did with girls with smaller tits. Yet she’d never bared them to a lover, who was going to touch, feel and suck them, which was what I was intending to do. If I’d had even a little less willpower, I’d have had her knickers off, and she wouldn’t have even wanted to stop me; feeling as wanton as I did. It was the first time since childhood that I had sucked on a pair of tits as well, and there was something indescribably sexy about doing so. I’d sucked my mother’s as a baby, seeing as that was what they were intended for. My mother insisted on breast-feeding both my brother and myself, because that was what nature intended.
After we’d both got dressed again I said to her, “If you blush like that before I’ve even got your bra off honey, what are you going to be like when you drop your knickers for me on your birthday, as you’ve said you want to do?”
“I’ll probably blush even more, at showing you my fanny, but I will drop them for you, and I will let you make love to me, because it is what I want to do.”
We got to the turned on stage all too often, but with sufficient willpower Joanna reached her eighteenth birthday with her cherry intact, but we both wanted that to change soon after. There was one night, a few weeks before her birthday, after a night out on the town, we got home and she put a hand up my skirt, and, for the first time, quite unmistakably reached for my fanny through the gusset of my knickers. “You know, Katie, I think I’m going to quite enjoy slipping my tongue into this little honeypot. Will you let me lick your fanny tonight, baby?”
“You’re too young for that.”
“No Katie, I’m too young to let you stick a strap-on cock into my fanny, if you owned one. I’m not too young to lick yours, or let you lick mine. Please baby; you know I want to lick you out!”
Her logic was good, and she was right on that score. I’d let my first real boyfriend see and suck my tits at thirteen, and then he started to poke and lick my fanny when I was fourteen. At the same age I’d first started sucking his cock and swallowing his spunk, so did it really make much difference if I licked Joanna’s fanny when she was still sweet, virginal seventeen?
As long as it didn’t go further than that, then, no of course it didn’t. “Let’s go into the living room, honey, and then you can pull my knickers down and lick my fanny to your heart’s content,” I told her.
“Will you teach me what I’m supposed to do, to pleasure you?”
“I’ve never licked a fanny myself, so I’m not really sure.”
“You’ve had yours licked before though, haven’t you? I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me what to do, won’t you. I’ll do what you say.”
“Perhaps it might be best if I licked yours first, to show you what to do.”
I didn’t get the chance to use my tongue; I was quickly but gently pressed up against the living room wall, and Joanna quite roughly yanked my knickers down around my ankles for me to step out of. She seemed quite surprised that I had shaved off all my pubes, so my fanny was bald. I’m not really sure how I looked; holding my skirt up out of the way, while directing my seventeen year old girlfriend in the art of fanny licking.
When Joanna had given me a climax, and it was time for me to return the favour, she stood up and walked across the living room to the couch and lay back on it. Then visibly blushing with a mix of embarrassment and shyness, she hitched her skirt up and pulled her knickers down for me, exposing a triumphant red bush and a tight virginal fanny.
She invited me to use my fingers on her fanny, to loosen it up for the dildo we were going to buy later on. Her fanny was wet and warm, and oh so tight around my fingers. Joanna’s sense of humour was great, but sometimes she picked the wrong subject. That day, after I’d stuck two fingers into her fanny, she jokingly asked me how long it had been since a partner had begged me to get my knickers off, just to lick me out; rather than actually have sex with me, which she did want to do, and would do when it was legal. I didn’t like the concept that I’d made her beg for anything. I actually apologised if I’d given her that impression. That wasn’t what I wanted her to think. “With the exception of sex before your birthday, I’ll give you anything you can reasonably want. That, I promise you, with all of my heart,” was what I told her that night.
She asked me for one promise; a nice simple one. “Poke my fanny every night, lover? I’ll lick yours if you do. I want to be ready to be taken on my birthday. I want to be ready for you to enter me that very night, and not get hurt too much.”
“I’ll do my very best not to hurt you, honey. I’ll be very gentle with you when the time comes; I promise you I will.”
From then on we did the same virtually every night, yet we didn’t sleep in the same bed. In fact we didn’t do anything in either bedroom together, although we both admitted to poking ourselves during some nights, and imagining that it was the other one doing the poking. We deliberately refused to buy a strap-on dildo until the day of Joanna’s birthday, so there could be no temptation after a night out; or after a night in for that matter. If we had nothing to use to have sex, then we clearly couldn’t have sex.
Five weeks down the line, after a night out on the town, to celebrate Joanna’s birthday, we arrived home with only one thought on our minds; sex! I was going to claim Joanna’s virginity. We stumbled into my bedroom, literally tearing at each other’s clothes, until we were both entirely naked, and we reached for the double-ended dildo we’d bought especially for the purpose that very afternoon. Joanna had already decided that I was going to be on top; I was going to be the dominant partner, being the one who had a job. The facts that I was nine years older, four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier also had something to do with it. As I looked down at Joanna lying on what had just become our bed, she looked so small and vulnerable. It was a big bed in an equally big bedroom, and it dwarfed her five foot, three inch; size eight, frame.
I’d never had sex with a woman before and it was a little strange, really burying my face in a hairy fanny and going at it for all I was worth with my tongue. It was also a lot of fun as I listened to Joanna whimpering. She smelled divine, and tasted the same way. I quite quickly realised that I liked the smell of what my first serious boyfriend called, “a dirty little girl.” I suppose he was right about me, too. At the age of fourteen, I was lying on his bed, bra and knickers in my handbag, skirt up around my waist and my blouse open, all of my girlie parts on display, ready to be touched, probed, licked or sucked, and they certainly were.
I had been a dirty little girl, hadn’t I? Originally, I’d dropped my knickers for him as a Christmas present, and quite enjoyed having my fanny poked, so I continued to let him poke it on a regular basis. I’d been getting my tits out for him for a few months by then already. What would his parents have thought if they’d caught us at it; their sixteen year old son with two fingers in his fourteen year old girlfriend’s fanny on his bed? Let alone what they’d have thought if they’d seen him with his cock in her mouth, never mind actually spunking into her mouth for her to swallow. He wanted to put his cock in my fanny as well, but I wasn’t having that; at fourteen I figured I was too young to screw.
A few months later I made the mistake of letting him find out that my GP had prescribed me the oral contraceptive pill as a remedy for my headaches, so he figured that it would be safe to have sex me without risk of my becoming pregnant, and began to pester me for sex. I refused, and threatened to dump him if he didn’t stop pestering me.
I made another mistake by promising him my unprotected fanny on the night of my sixteenth birthday, if we were still together, and on the condition that he gave me a good night out to celebrate. I got plenty of presents and a good night out, and was then taken to his brother’s flat, and shagged over the arm of the settee, because we weren’t allowed to use the bedroom. Not exactly what a teenage virgin should have expected for her first time, but it sufficed for both of us. Inconsiderate twat that he was, he boasted to everyone about what I had agreed to let him do, although if I had known what he was telling people, I may well have reneged on my part of the bargain. I had expected a little discretion, after all! As it was, he got me home a bare five minutes before my midnight deadline, and as everyone found out within a few days, when I got there, I had no knickers on under my short skirt and my fanny was full to overflowing with his spunk. He claimed to be surprised that my parents hadn’t heard the filthy squelching noises from my well-spunked fanny as I walked into the house! He’d had his cock in my mouth as usual, but he wouldn’t spunk there. He said he was saving it all to put in my fanny, and as the boasts said, he spunked in there no less than four times, and apparently I looked so dirty as the spunk trickled out after he’d squirted it into my fanny.
He’d wanted to me up the arse as well, but with a cock as big as his, I told him that that there was no way in hell he was doing that. I’d been worried enough about its effects on my virginal fanny, and that was designed to have a cock shoved inside it! It didn’t hurt though, and I was thankful for the time and effort he’d lavished on my fanny for the previous eighteen months or so, making sure that I was ready to shag. As I said to him, nature didn’t give me an arsehole to have a cock shoved up it; that was what Mother Nature designed fannies to do! I’d enjoyed my first ever shagging, so as long as I got more pleasure, he could give me a lot more of them.
Within eight months of that night, I was single again. I went to his little flat to surprise him. I surprised both of them! It was an unpleasant surprise for me too; finding my boyfriend shagging a woman old enough to be his mother, on the living room floor! To make matters worse, he wasn’t wearing a condom, so I had little idea of what he might have given me. I dumped him on the spot, despite his protests of it being the first time, and his pleading and his begging for a second chance. The odds of it being the first time were remote, and I’d have had to have been a fool to believe him. Being a smart girls, I get myself checked out at the local pox-doctor, and and the tender age of sixteen, that was bloody humiliating!
I liked the unique odour of a wet fanny in front of my nose, and the taste of it on my tongue. She tasted so sweet too! I understood why a fanny was often called a honeypot, because of the sweet taste of fanny-juice. I hadn’t been laid in more than a year and despite having Joanna’s tongue in my fanny every night for the previous few weeks, I was missing the sex. However, seeing as I was living with my girlfriend, I couldn’t cheat on her and go out to get laid. I wouldn’t anyway, because I’ve been cheated on before, and I know how much it hurts. Besides which, I’ve never done a one-night stand, just for the sex. Being licked out was all well and good, but nothing beats a long, hard cock, shoved as far as it will go. Well, I wasn’t going to miss it anymore, even if the cock was made of latex rubber.
That night, just before we first made love, I promised to be very gentle with the young woman I was about to have sex with. I understood, the way no boy or man ever could, the feelings of anxiety a virgin girl often had. She was wondering about the sensation of having our new rubber cock inserted in her tight, virginal fanny. She saw that it was eight inches in length, and it looked positively huge. She was wondering where it was going to fit within her lower abdomen. Just as I had been many years ago, Joanna was anxious yet excited. She had reached the age where her partner could legally have sex with her, and that was what she wanted. To be fair though, she wasn’t the only anxious one in that bedroom. I was worried that I might unintentionally hurt her, as I pushed the rubber cock inside her.
After I served Joanna breakfast in bed, I asked her what she wanted for afters. I got what I could only describe as a dirty laugh, and the answer, “I want to suck your boobs and lick your lovely bald fanny of course. Come over here and stick it in my face before you make love to me again.” I was still tired after the last night, but I performed like a good ‘husband’, and gave her another orgasm.
I knew than, if I didn’t already, that I truly loved that eighteen year old girl. “How are we going to tell your parents,” I asked, later that day.
“We don’t. I already have.”
“What did they say?” I wanted to know.
“They told me that you and I were both little better than perverts, and they disowned me on the spot. That’s why they haven’t been round recently.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. “I don’t need them anyway, as long as I have you, oh love of my life,” was what Joanna said to me with a lovely smile on her face.
We discussed how we were going to tell my friends about what we had become. We decided that a demonstration was the order of the day, so the next night out, in our usual club; Joanna planted her mouth onto mine in full view of the entire group, and grabbed a good, double handful of my arse cheeks. There were no shocked gasps, the way I had been expecting. In fact, the only words were, “Right, that’s twenty quid you owe me, Maggie.” Clearly we’d been sussed a while ago, but, much to my surprise, no-one seemed to care that I’d morphed into a muff-diver.
There was only one question relating to our relationship, and Joanna answered it for me. The question was, “How long have you been shagging this little honey then Katie; six months; a year; or even longer?”
The answer was, “She’s been, as you put it, ‘shagging me’, morning and night, since my eighteenth birthday, and that was a mere four days ago.”
Joanna changed her surname by deed poll shortly after her adopted parents disowned her. She didn’t want to keep their name, to remind her of how stupid and hurtful they had been. It took her a while to choose a new name, and I was surprised when she asked my permission to take my surname. We were partners, so we may as well have the same names, even if we couldn’t marry. That brought tears to my eyes, as I realised what it meant. She had promised that she would be a good wife to me, and, like any good wife, she wanted to take my family name. Needless to say, I quite happily gave her my blessing to take my name if she wanted it.
For her eighteenth birthday, I bought Joanna a convertible Nissan Micra, the glass roofed version, as she’d only just recently passed her test. She liked Micras, seeing as that was what her driving instructor had, and what I owned, and let her drive, so it was what she’d become accustomed to driving. The car wasn’t brand new; an ex-demonstrator, about six months old, but it was still a nice looking car in a metallic dark green, complete with warranty and free servicing. It came out of my inheritance, and when Joanna took the keys from the salesman, the look on her face was worth every penny that car cost me. It was the best birthday present anyone had ever given her, and, as I had come to expect, Joanna cried. When I told her that I wanted to buy her a car, she was expecting something from a corner end used car place; a few hundred quid, maybe a grand at the most. She sure as hell wasn’t expecting what she got! Unfortunately, when she took the keys to the car, she had no insurance. I couldn’t insure it in her name without giving the surprise away. I had to drive it home for her, and then we got her insured to drive it, and I had forgotten just how expensive car insurance could be for the young, inexperienced drivers without any no-claims discount.
Being adopted, Joanna has no idea about her real family. Had she been taken from them by social services because they couldn’t look after her? Had they given her away voluntarily? Or was she an orphan, with no family? Prior to that day, she told me that I was the only family she needed, and had suggested that in a few years she would like us to adopt a child or two, to create a proper family. She insisted on adopting, rather than fostering, because she wanted us to keep the children for life, rather than just have different children for short times, before they went off to other homes. She wanted to be able to build a proper bond between the two of us and any children we adopted. I quite liked the idea of raising a couple of children the way I would have if I had married and let my husband make me pregnant.
We classed the name change as our wedding day, and went off on honeymoon to Quebec, in Canada. While we were there, we underwent the Canadian wedding ceremony, even though it isn’t legally binding in this country. I made the hotel reservation at the hotel where I had been a couple of times for a girls’ holiday, and as usual, I had to spell my family name.
My paternal grandfather was foreign you see. He’d arrived in Britain in 1942, a badly wounded P.O.W. from North Africa. His home was Hamburg, but when the war was over, he had nothing to go home to, seeing as his entire family had been killed by the Royal Air Force. When the war was over, he initiated a search for the nurse who saved his life, intending to thank her properly. A year or so later, they were married, and that is why my family name is Von Falkenhausen. My paternal grandfather had two sons, and taught them both their heritage.
My father taught me my heritage and his language. My brother wasn’t really interested, thinking it was all old hat. That was why when our uncle died, single and childless, I got everything; the house, the car and all the money, and my dip-shit brother got diddly-squat, and it served him right too! My German is extremely good, I just have an accent. If it wasn’t for that, I could pass for a native. I’m teaching Joanna, too, so that she can participate in the family debates. My father spent a short while in the army, and on his return from a tour of duty in Germany, of all places, he brought a pregnant, disabled wife home with him. That pregnancy was me, and was the death-knell of my father’s army career.
The meeting between my parents was extremely unusual. My mother stepped onto a road without looking, and my father ran her over in an army-issue Land Rover. Even now, my mother jokes that my father could only get a wife by breaking her legs and knocking her out first. She was paralysed in the accident, and only had good use of one arm, so clearly she couldn’t raise a child too well from her wheelchair. Father got a special reasons discharge from the army, although he was quite happy there, to look after his wife and infant daughter. My parents never denied that both myself and my brother were accidents. Mother wasn’t really able to look after children, so they had decided not to have any. However, when mother fell pregnant, they were left with little choice.
We haven’t seen hide nor hair of Joanna’s adoptive parents since she told them that we were lovers, and by now it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. It did at the start, but she decided that if they didn’t want anything to do with her, she didn’t want anything to do with them either. She is not any kind of pervert; she is a beautiful, caring young woman, and I love her.
My own parents are quite understanding about the situation, and make Joanna feel quite welcome whenever we visit them, and they’re always friendly towards her when they visit us.
It was going to be awkward when I explained things to them, so we went around to see them when we knew my brother would be absent from the family home. When we told them what was happening, my mother propelled her wheelchair over to Joanna, wrapped her up in her embrace and simply said, “Welcome to the family.”
Joanna cried at that and my mother looked at me for an explanation. “When she told her adopted parents that we were an item, they told her that she was no better than a pervert, and wanted nothing to do with her.”
“The monsters!” my mother announced. “You’ll always be welcome here young lady, if Katie’s out of the area on business.” That did happen on occasion, unfortunately, due to the job. When my boss went away on business, I often had to go with him, which was the downside of being a highly paid PA. There were times I’d rather not have gone, but I didn’t really have much choice. I’ve been to many foreign lands; America, Japan, Germany, France, and even Russia.
I was lucky in a way, and my partners never distrusted me while I was away with my boss. I wasn’t going to get up to any infidelity, for two reasons. My boss, at that time, was in his late fifties, (way too old for my tastes), and had a rather attractive boyfriend of his own, many years younger than he was. As I said to Joanna, “I don’t do boys any more, and he’s never done girls, so that reduces the chances of adultery to just about zero,” although she never doubted my commitment to her. Joanna always trusted me to be faithful to her, and I always have been.
I guess that my parents are just broader minded people, content to accept whoever I love and whoever makes me happy. They’ve even started to jokingly refer to Joanna as my wife. I was a little surprised to hear them invite me to a family meal and instruct me to “bring the wife with you.”
Joanna was over the moon with that, because it meant that she’d been accepted by my family, in a way that her own either wouldn’t, or couldn’t, accept her. My parents can’t understand Joanna’s parents’ inability to accept her for what she is, because there’s no point in trying to change her. If being in a relationship with another woman is what makes her happy, then let her be happy.
My brother, who had been making ‘lemon’ jokes, for a few weeks beforehand, was staring daggers at me all night, because he was jealous of the young beauty that was quite willing to share my bed, when the time was right. Then again, considering some of the dogs he’s pulled in his time, it wasn’t exactly any surprise. Some of them were so ugly, the only reason he could possibly want anything to do with them, was that they were dirty slags after casual sex. That was often what I told him he was as well; ‘a dirty little blonde slapper,’ and he is too. He’s always been the sort to chase anything in a skirt, and probably always will. The old joke ‘A fanny and a pulse; and the pulse is entirely optional,’ certainly applies to him, because he will screw literally anything in a skirt, between the ages of sixteen and sixty.
I hope for his sake that he stays away from Scotland! Even the blokes up there wear skirts more than I do. Whenever I’m in a relationship, I always wear trousers to work, to hide my legs. Joanna has always said that I have the most gorgeous legs she’s ever seen, and she asked me why I hide them from blokes’ eyes. I’ve never really figured out why I do that, but it’s become a way for guys at work to tell that I’m not available, and it’s also an old habit.
My brother often used the family name as a tool in trying to pull; seeing as it is an old aristocratic name, indicative of breeding, money and influence. Most of the time, it didn’t work. I used other methods. A pretty face, long blonde hair, a nice, shapely arse in a short skirt, and a pair of thirty eight inch tits in a short, tight top, and no bra, were far more effective at grabbing the attentions of the opposite sex, although I never fooled around on the first date. Blokes had to work to get me into bed, but sooner or later, I went, and I had my fun with them. None of them ever complained that I was a poor lay, and neither did my only girlfriend.
I was never unattractive, but I’m not up to Joanna’s standards of beauty; not that it bothers her. In fact, she doesn’t like the attention she gets because of her looks, and her petite, hourglass figure, but she’s just going to have to accept the fact that she is going to get the attention, whether she likes it or not; what with her forty inch tits in their DD cups, twenty-four inch waist and thirty-eight inch hips; and the fact that she is simply downright, drop-dead, gorgeous. Blokes are going to be attracted to her looks and that is all there is to it, as are a few women as well. Such is the downside to being truly beautiful.
When Joanna turned twenty-one, I took her shopping for a present suitable for her birthday. I also took her to the local office of social services and we registered ourselves as volunteering to adopt a child. As we’d only been together for three years, they were reluctant, but Joanna gave them a little more to go on. “We’ve actually been together a year and a half longer than that, but we had to sleep in separate beds due to my age. Isn’t four and a half years enough to develop a loving relationship, to raise an abandoned, neglected, or abused child in? I was adopted myself, so I know how it feels to be raised by people who aren’t your own family. When I told them that I was a lesbian, they disowned me, and I intend to do better than that!”
After almost nineteen months, our names came to the top of the adoption list, and we adopted a little baby girl, Daniela, only a few weeks old. She’d been abandoned by her mother in a hospital car park on a summer’s night, with a note explaining things. Seeing as her mother wasn’t traced, she went into the adoption program, and came to us. Now we are parents, and it still feels a little funny to me. We vowed to ourselves that we would be good parents.
Danni grew up with us and started to address Joanna as “mummy,” and that was wonderful to hear. Yet again, little Miss. Sensitive Soul broke down into tears when that happened. Obviously, Danni will have to be told the truth at some point, and that’ll be rather hard for us to do, I think, but we’ll have to do it. It’ll only be fair to her after all to tell her the truth; that mummy isn’t mummy.
Joanna is a first class mother; no doubt about that. She took to the role like a duck to water. Whenever Danni woke up in the middle of the night in need of changing, or wanting feeding, Joanna was there; no complaints, or curses. She wouldn’t let me do anything at times like that; “Get some sleep baby, you’re the worker. I’m the mother of the two of us, and this is my responsibility,” was the sort of thing she’d say to me if I volunteered to help, or take over from her, so I stopped volunteering.
One day I remember in particular. Joanna was in the shower and Danni started to cry. I did all that I could think of but I couldn’t get her to settle. She didn’t need changing, and she didn’t want feeding, so I was unable to figure out what to do. After a few minutes, Joanna walked into the room and said, “It’s ok baby-kins, mummy’s here now.” By the time she picked Danni out of my arms, and rested her in the crook of her right arm, the screaming baby was silent!
When little Danni started school, Joanna went back to college and retook the exams she didn’t seem particularly bothered about at school, and didn’t do particularly well at. With motivation and encouragement, her results at the end of the year were substantially better than they were at school, and in between the start and finish of the college year, Joanna broke a couple of hearts because she was spoken for.
Her A-levels followed, she did well on those too. She wants to go to university soon, and get more qualifications, and meet more people. She didn’t have many friends when I met her, but now she’s doing far better at being outgoing, even if most of her friends from college are noticeably younger than she is. She is the group’s matriarch due to her age, and even she finds that to be funny.

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