When I was just over sixteen years old, I had a piece of bad luck that turned into some very special good luck indeed!

I injured the ligament in my left leg during a school sports match, and – after a spell walking on crutches – was advised to do regular physiotherapy to restore its strength. The physio nurse at the clinic showed me which exercises were best, and recommended that I use the specialist equipment at a gymnasium, but with very light settings at first. So, with my parents’ approval, I decided to try out the health club and gym nearest to where we lived – it was only about fifteen minutes walk away, and that exercise would also do me good.

On my way home from school the next afternoon, I got off the bus a stop earlier than usual and called at the health club to make enquiries. When I explained what I needed, the helpful young man at the reception desk said that it would be best for me to speak to the assistant manager on duty, and showed me through to her office. Sitting there, working at a computer screen, was a fit and attractive young woman in her mid-twenties, who at once rose and greeted me with a warm smile and a firm handshake, introducing herself as Louise. She was quite smartly dressed, not in either gym clothes or a business suit, but in a neat semi-casual combination of a shortish plain brown skirt and a cream cross-over top. Both of these complemented the slightly-wavy light brown hair which fell to just rest on her shoulders, framing her pretty and friendly features. The only recognition of working in a sports environment was that she wore no tights or stockings, revealing well-muscled legs, and that her shoes were simple black slip-ons with flat rubber soles.

Louise looked at me with curious interest, which I assumed was due to my appearance. It was not just that I was younger than their usual adult clientele, but I was also in my school uniform. My school was a good one but had an emphasis on discipline, and that included requiring all students to wear uniform. However, we more senior girls – well, you know what girls are like about clothes – we had our own little stylish variations, always pushing at the boundaries of the rules until something or other was definitely forbidden. So, yes, I was in my school uniform, but the maroon skirt was a size or two smaller than I really should have been wearing, making it tight on my ass and about three inches shorter than regulation length, coming less than half way down my thighs – not quite indecent, but certainly trying to go down that road. My white shirt was also short and tight, and of material thin enough that my bra was visible through it, emphasising what I had in the way of a bust (which was OK, not amazing but not too bad for sixteen, pert little boobs in a soft cotton B-cup – I was very proud of just having moved up to that size). The uniform was completed by my navy-blue tie with its thin diagonal orange and red stripe, my short white ankle socks, and my white trainers – the once concession to modernity which the school allowed, but only so long as they were either plain white or plain black. As usual, as soon as I left the school gates, I had removed my blazer and stuffed it in my bag, and rolled up my shirt sleeves (it was nearly June, after all). The cumulative effect was that I looked both demure and sexy, with a lot of bare girlish leg and thigh on view. I may have seemed a little older than I actually was, due to the combination of my above-average height, my straight dark hair (which I kept hooked behind my ears), and my mature-looking face, which often wore a serious or quizzical expression.

I explained my reasons for coming, holding my leg out in front of me to show the injury in question. Louise looked thoughtful, and came around from behind her desk to take a closer look. She explained that she was completing a course in sports sciences which included physiotherapy, and although not yet fully qualified she had some experience in the area and was sure that she could help me. She knelt on the floor in front of my chair, and asked me to stretch my leg out as straight and horizontally as I could manage. She then supported it in her hands, looking thoughtful as she gave a gentle probing – more like a massage, really – to the injured area. It felt quite nice and relaxing, and I settled back slightly in the chair, not at all realising that from Louise’s position (which she had carefully chosen), she could see directly up my skirt to my panties and crotch. She extended her massage to my lower leg, and I gave a slight sigh. I looked downwards to where she was testing and rubbing my knee, and to my surprise found that I had quite an extensive view down the loose cross-over front of her top, revealing the smooth tops of a pair of neatly attractive breasts, perhaps C cups, the rest of which was covered by a prettily-decorated white bra. I was intrigued, and more interested than I realised – much later, Louise (who was watching in her peripheral vision, having quite deliberately afforded me this perspective) told me that she had seen my lips part and my tongue flit across them as I looked down her front, and that she had detected by sight and faint smell that a small damp patch had appeared on the gusset of my panties.

Satisfied in ways that I had yet to understand, Louise nodded to herself and then rose, smiling cheerfully, and sat behind her desk again. She explained that what would be best would be for me to exercise under her supervision – the club owners would not want to admit me and then be in danger of a lawsuit if I injured myself through ignorance. In addition, she recommended that I make my visits near the end of her evening shift, when it would be quiet – the big pressure was in the early evening, after people left their work, but the last hour that the gym was open, from 9.00 p.m. to 10.00 p.m., was much less busy. This would be good, Louise explained, because she could give me more individual attention then, and also there would be much less likelihood of my being pestered by men. I was a bit uncomfortable hearing that, but she laughed and said that they didn’t normally have such a good-looking young girl in the place, but she would ‘keep the flies away from the honey’. I laughed too, reassured and also very flattered that this smart and experienced woman would think that I was good-looking! We shook hands on the arrangement, and I handed over my mother’s credit card for payment – Louise said they would take only two months’ subscription at first, which was the minimum joining period.

So began the very pleasant routine of the next five or six weeks. Louise worked on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and that pattern suited me too. I would leave home a little before 8.30 p.m., walk slowly to the health club, and change into one of my gym outfits – they were my school ones, consisting of tight form-fitting terrycloth shorts in navy blue, and a singlet top in red, edged in blue and white. I wore trainers, white ankle socks, and supporting sweatbands at my ankles and on my wrists. For underwear, I used a pair of very skimpy thong-style pink panties and their matching bra, as my fairly small breasts didn’t really need a specialist sports bra. I then worked out on various machines for about forty minutes, with Louise advising me and checking regularly how I was doing. On these evening shifts, she was no longer on office duty, and so was dressed quite differently from the first time that I had met her. She always wore a white T-shirt with the gym company’s name and logo on it and trainers, but between these two the rest of her outfit varied: sometimes it was jogging trousers, sometimes a pair of loose exercise shorts, and sometimes – which I realised that I liked best, thinking this was because she looked very stylish in it – she wore a quite short tennis skirt, of which she had several, in navy blue and in white.

On one of the first occasions that I was there, near the end of the time, when there were only two other people still in the large gym room, she walked over to check up on me. We had agreed that I should work on all my muscles evenly, partly to get fully fit, and partly not to strain my injury by working constantly on the legs, so I was using a weight-lift at the time, lying on my back on the flat bench support, a leg splayed out on either side. I was concentrating on this so much that I did not notice her approach, until she was standing almost next to my head. I turned to look at her, and then blushed and turned away – because from my position I had seen straight up her skirt, registering in the split second before looking aside that she was wearing a very nice pair of black panties in a high-hip thong style, decoratively edged with lace trimmings. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and my pulse quickening – I thought, due to embarrassment at making such a faux pas. It left me feeling a little funny, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind afterwards. In fact, curiousity began to consume me so that I deliberately contrived similar encounters on the days when she was wearing one of her short skirts, and I was rewarded with sights of a range of panties in different cuts and colours, but sharing one things – all were stylishly sexy.

So we went on, sometimes chatting for a while as Louise closed up the building (which was her responsibility as the duty manager on these evening shifts), before going our separate ways. I began to think of her more and more as a friend, and started to confide some of my secrets to her – such as how several of the boys at school were pressing me all the time to go out with them, and that I wasn’t keen because I knew they would just be trying to get my panties down and do whatever they wanted. Louise asked if I had had a boyfriend before, and I shook my head, explaining earnestly that I just did not feel ready for that kind of thing right now, but I supposed it would be different when I was older – at college, maybe. Louise smiled and nodded, and then delicately enquired:

‘So, ah … you’re still a … still … you know … um … not done it, yet, then?’

I blushed scarlet, and nodded confirmation of my unsullied virginity. I though she might laugh or think me childish, but my heart warmed when instead she smiled at me approvingly, patted my shoulder, and said:

‘Quite right, too! – most girls give it up far too soon, to someone who doesn’t deserve it, and then wish they hadn’t!’ For just a moment, I wondered if she was speaking about herself, but it would have been just too rude to ask.

A week or so after this, I was almost fully fit again – and thinking with regret that my visits to the gym (of which seeing Louise had become my special pleasure) might be coming to an end, although I had formed a plan to ask my parents to continue the subscription permanently, perhaps counting it as part of my next Christmas present or something like that. On this particular Monday, I had got stuck on a homework assignment that was due the next day, and so got to the gym rather late, realising as I walked in that the lobby clock showed nearly a quarter past nine. Louise greeted me at once, almost as if she had been keeping an eye on the door, and with a note of pleasure – perhaps even relief – in her voice that touched me. She gave me a playful slap on the ass, and said:

‘Hey, kiddo – I was getting worried, thought you were deserting us, now you’re all better!’

‘Oh, no!’ I said hastily, explaining first about the homework (which got a sympathetic grimace and an acknowledging ‘yeah, that sucks’), and then, more diffidently, my hopes of continuing to attend the gym.

‘That is – if you’ll have me, of course,’ I said, in my innocence not registering the double meaning. She looked at me quizzically, and then said in a softer and huskier tone than usual:

‘Oh, don’t you worry about that – I’ll have you, all right!’

It was if she had taken some final decision, as the slightly-troubled expression which I had noticed on the last few visits cleared away. Louise explained that she had some extra paperwork to catch up on, and was intending to stay in the building and get it done after everyone had left. ‘But’, she said, ‘it’s a pity for you not to get your usual time, especially when I’m not actually leaving.’ With brisk determination, she suggested that I stay on with her – I could get extra time on the machines when the gym was empty and, if she propped the office door open, she would hear me call out if I needed anything. She asked if it would cause any problems if I was to stay later, and I replied that it wouldn’t – I had actually arranged to visit one of my school friends afterwards, and so was not expected home until nearly midnight; I would phone the friend and explain that I had been delayed, and couldn’t make it tonight. Louise smiled, nodded approvingly, and remarked ‘that will give us plenty of time – no need to hurry’.

The few remaining members of the club had left by about 9.45 p.m., and Louise told the other two staff who were on duty – two guys, college students doing this as part-time work – that they could go, and she would close up. When they had departed, she locked the glass front doors and pulled the blinds down on the windows. Then she smiled at me, saying ‘now it’s just us girls, honey, so take your sweet time.’ I settled into my workout routine, realising that my leg was now healed, and that overall I was so much fitter than before, and I determined not to give this up – I had found that my thrice-weekly visits had become the highlights of my week. It was amazingly peaceful and quiet, with Louise visible at her office desk, her attractive profile towards me as she tapped away at her computer keyboard – she was wearing one of her short white tennis skirts and a tighter-than-usual purple singlet, and both showed that she had a good, curvy figure underneath. I watched her for a while, feeling quite serene, until I thought she might notice and I looked away.

At about 10.30 p.m., when I was using one of the upright bench presses, I heard Louise sigh. I looked over to her office again and saw her shuffle the papers on her desk, put a file away in its drawer and switch off her computer. Then she rose and stretched, sighing again. I thought she must have forgotten me, or perhaps had not realised that I was placed where I could see her, because she hefted her breasts in her palms, as if settling them back in their bra cups, and then for a moment slipped one hand under her skirt – I could only assume that her panties must have got twisted. I felt like a spy who had seen a special secret, and flushed and looked away as she started to turn towards her office door. I acted as if I hadn’t seen her until she was standing right next to me – and then from that position I could not avoid an up-skirt view of her firm tanned thighs and today’s panties, a red thong in a satiny material.

Louise said it was time for me to wind down – she had a few routine chores left, but I needed to go and shower soon, and when I came back from that she would let me out by the side door, as the front was locked and the alarm there had been set. She gave me a bright smile, which I returned, saying ‘OK, you’re the boss!’, and I trotted happily off to the ladies’ changing room. After showering and drying off, I stuffed my gym outfit in my carry-bag and put on a clean pair of tight shorts in a rich pink colour and a green T-shirt that went well with them. As I gathered my things, I heard Louise calling out to ask if I was ready, and I went out into the foyer area.

Louise led me along an unfamiliar corridor to the side door of the building, and then hesitated curiously for a moment, putting one hand on my shoulder and regarding me quizzically. However, after a couple of seconds, she gave a slight sigh, and unlocked the door to let me out. As I stepped into the cool sweet twilight of the summer evening, feeling thrilled and excited by my progress, I turned back for a second and – acting on a sudden impulse which came from I know not where – I rose on my tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on her cheek, saying breathlessly: ‘Thanks so much, thanks for everything!’

I felt suddenly abashed at my girlish enthusiasm and childish action, but Louise took one of my hands in hers, twining our fingers together, and drew me closer to her. A strange smile played for a second about her lips and, in a wry but warm voice, she replied:

‘Oh well, honey, if you want to thank me that way …’

And then – to my astonishment – she kissed me on the mouth, not too firmly or intrusively, but I could feel her tongue flit across my lips. There was no doubting that this was something much more than a friendly farewell gesture – in fact, it was unmistakeably an opening gambit, even someone as naive and inexperienced as me instinctively knew that! Whether it was due to surprise or some deeper need, my lips parted slightly and I found myself returning her kiss. The space between us had suddenly vanished, and I was up against her, held close by the arm which she had slipped round my waist. I was very aware of the pressure of her breasts against my developing chest, and of the sudden hardness of her nipples, poking into me through her singlet. I melted into her embrace, opening my lips wider for the questing entry of her tongue, meeting it with the tentative probing of my own. My head was spinning, and there was a roaring in my ears as if there was a waterfall nearby. My palms felt sweaty, my stomach light and fluttery, and my pelvis as if it had turned to wet concrete.

After nearly a minute of wet smooching, I drew back slightly and broke contact with a gasp, hardly believing what I was doing. Louise searched my face with her gaze, and must have found what she was looking for in my wide eyes, flared nostrils, flushed cheeks and panting breath, and confirmed by my acquiescent stunned silence.

‘So … do you want more, babe?’ she asked, with devastating directness.

My throat had gone dry and I could not manage to speak, so I just nodded a mute but definite assent. Her smile became a wolfish grin, and she drew me back into the building and closed the door.

‘Yeah’, she said in a satisfied tone, ‘I was pretty damn sure you would – you little hottie!’

Swiftly, she pressed my smaller, slighter frame against the corridor wall, resuming her kiss whilst her hands roamed all over my upper body, tugging my T-shirt out of my shorts and up above my small breasts. Her fingers found these in their plain white bra, fondling them and tugging on my suddenly-firm nipples, causing me to moan and – driven by instinct – to spread my hips apart. Her hands ran down my back to seize and squeeze my buttocks, and then one hand swept around my waist and stomach, and reached down to press against where my shorts covered my pussy, stroking up and down on my slit through the thin terrycloth material. I was almost swooning from the sexual rush which overwhelmed me and from the tidal waves of extraordinary, novel and wonderful sensations that were surging through my virgin body. She paused briefly in her swift conquest of any defences that I might have had, and looked at me with sudden seriousness.

‘Are you sure you want this?’ she queried, ‘I’m not gonna force you into anything.’

I found enough strength from somewhere to reply: ‘Yes … please, I want it! … I want you!’

Her eyes gleamed, and she breathed back at me: ‘And I want you – I’ve wanted you for weeks, ever since you walked in here in that sexy schoolgirl getup! And I want to be your first.’

I understood her meaning at once, and was doubly thrilled. Yes, I thought to myself exultantly, yes! Here and now, and with her – nothing could be better than this, nothing! I answered in a choked, husky voice:

‘I want YOU to be my first!’ And then, to make quite sure she knew what I intended and wanted, I added: ‘please, take my virginity – FUCK ME!!’

She looked eager but also slightly scared, and I wondered fleetingly if she had ever taken a virgin girl before – the idea that I might be her first in that way sent another drenching feeling down my pussy, which was already feeling wetter and looser than I had ever thought possible.

Louise still had just a fragment of doubt, saying: ‘You might not be a lesbian, like me, you know – lots of girls, most really, are bisexual.’

But I was having none of this, for I knew with a sudden sweet certainty, like coming home out of the rain, where I really stood and who I really was. So much that had seemed out of kilter to me, so much that had felt like it was somehow not right, suddenly fell into place. Of course this was why I didn’t want a boyfriend, didn’t want boys shoving their paws inside my shirts or up my skirts – and why I felt that strange embarrassed curiosity when we girls were changing for school sports, or the way I liked to watch the cheerleaders practice even though I knew I wasn’t pretty enough to be chosen for the squad, and it explained the burgeoning feelings that were troubling me about a couple of my prettiest school friends and two of the most handsome and charismatic of the younger women teachers. I had not the slightest remaining doubt, and said to Louise with a confidence which afterwards she told me had both amazed and impressed her:

‘Yes, I am. I am a lesbian – I’m glad I know that now, and that’s what I’ll always want to be. You’ve helped me to see and understand – it’s only right for you to take me first, and I’ll remember you for ever. Show me what to do, Louise, take me and fuck me – and not just now, not just tonight!’

She whistled softly through her lips in surprise at my certainty, and at the maturity with which I was offering my body to her, knowing exactly what I wanted to happen. The air of tension left her, but was replaced by a crackling sense of anticipation and excitement which electrified us both, joining us in a harmony of attraction and pure unadulterated desire.

‘OK, hon, if you say so – if fucked you is wanting, then fucked you is surely gonna be getting!’, she said, giving me a totally over-acted evil leer. ‘But not right here – there’s a much better place, c’mon!’

Holding hands, we almost ran back down the corridor, and she took me along to a small private room which I had not really noticed before. It had a ‘Staff Only’ sign on the door, and Louise had to unlock it. There was a row of lockers along the left-hand wall, doors to shower and toilet cubicles in the facing wall, and a couple of benches in the middle of the room. Louise quickly pushed these over against the lockers, and then indicated a large foam rubber exercise mat which was standing upright in one of the corners, rolled up and held closed with straps. It was quite heavy, and it took both of us to drag into the centre of the floor, and unroll it – after a few seconds, its own weight made it rest flat on the floor. Next, Louise took three of the large white cotton towels that the gym provided for its members to use, and she laid these out on top of the mat to make a more comfortable resting place.

We were both still fully clothed, but I knew with eager certainty that this would change within seconds. For all the passion that she was feeling, Louise did not rush me – we stood for a while, kissing again, and her hands explored my bust and buttocks less feverishly than before, but with a sensuous slowness that I found to be even more arousing. Then she pulled my T-shirt up over my head, caressed my breasts in their soft cotton bra cups, and slid a hand down to my shorts. One dextrous movement undid the front button, a second pulled down the zip, and a third slipped her hand inside – the shorts falling three or four inches down my thighs as she did so. Her fingers cupped my Venus mound through my thin pink cotton panties, and I gasped at the feeling of her hand pressing against me in such an intimate place – down there!! But this was only her overture, and her hand rose slightly to the waistband of the panties before sliding back down again – but now on the inside, her palm smooth and warm against my bare skin, her fingertips seeking the top of my cleft and then teasing and rubbing along it.

I was more than lost by this stage – although a much truer term would be to say that I was found, and had found everything that I was looking for. I slumped slightly backwards against the wall, and she tugged the shorts down my legs until I could easily step out of them. Now all I had on was my bra, panties, socks and trainers, and it didn’t seem right to let this one-sided situation continue. Acting purely on instinct, I reached for her breasts, taking a firm grip and pressing my thumbs against the hard nipples. Louise gave an appreciative gasp, and begged me to give her tits more attention, so I gave her purple singlet the same treatment that my T-shirt had received a few seconds before – up, over, and flung away to land on one of the benches at the side.

Now I could see her bra: it was red, matching the panties which I had glimpsed earlier, but more daring in style than I had expected – an underwired plunge bra in a quite revealing demi-cup design. As I hesitated for a second, Louise quickly reached behind her back, undid the clasp and then let the bra fall away from the front of her breasts. She was now naked above the waist, below which she still had the short white tennis skirt, the red panties underneath it, cotton ankle socks and her trainers. As she let her arms fall to her sides, I took a moment to admire the bust now displayed to me. Louise was a very attractive young woman; her breasts were no more than average size in volume – perhaps even a little less – but they jutted forwards like small pyramids. It seemed as if a homing instinct told my mouth what to do, as I leaned forward to kiss her left breast, taking the right one in my hand to fondle at the same time. Louise murmured her approval, putting her shoulders slightly back in response and so lifting her tits even more outwards for attention.

My kissing was tentative at first, and I think its delicacy – almost next door to tickling – was actually very arousing for her, as certainly was my innocence and her knowledge that she was initiating a virgin into her first lesbian sexual encounter. Realising how much I was turning her on, as she began to give short pants of breath, I grew in confidence and began to suck more boldly, now changing from side to side between each free-swinging mound of glory, sucking hard on her tit and pulling it out with me as I drew my mouth backwards; each time when I finally released one of her nipples in this way, she gave a curious whimper.

After a few moments of this, she gasped that I was going to make her come, and she begged me to finger her pussy. I felt a wicked thrill, as for the first time in my life I lifted a woman’s skirt to gain access to her cunt and take her to the crest of sexual release. My mouth did not falter in its worship of her lovely mounds, but I pulled the front of the tennis skirt up with one hand and pushed the other underneath it. I found my target of the front of her panties and, remembering her example, pressed my fingertips along her slit, feeling with slight shock the large patch of wetness which surrounded it. Louise gave a strangled groan, releasing her hands from their grip on my ass to reach frantically for the sides of her panties and shove them in one firm motion down almost to her knees. At once, my hand was touching her bare cunt, which I found was delightfully soft and giving, smooth and shaven free of all hair. Again, it must have been instinct that helped my fingers slip into her vagina whilst my upturned thumb impacted almost roughly on her clitoral hood, slipping inside it to find the engorged glory spot itself. Louise began to give a mixture of deep, harsh grunts and high, sharp sounds, and I could feel her muscles trembling around my hand. Suddenly her hips thrust forwards and backwards galvanically several times, she gave a loud cry of ‘Oh! Yes! Now!!’, and I felt a wash of wetness around the two fingers that I was pushing in and pulling out of her hole.

I was amazed at what I had done, and felt a euphoric sense of triumph. Here I was, a young, totally inexperienced, virgin teenager – and I had taken an attractive and accomplished woman to the heights of uninhibited, uncontrolled orgasm. In its way, this was another and almost more profound barrier to cross than having my hymen broken and losing what everyone defines as ‘virginity’ – for what I had done to Louise made me far more adult: I was now a lesbian and a lover, someone who did as well someone who was passively done to. Not, of course, that I was not eagerly looking forward to that part … and it seemed that it would be next on the agenda.

After I withdrew my fingers from her cunt, Louise – looking slightly stunned and breathless – stripped off her panties and briefly mopped her sodden pussy with them, before pitching them carelessly aside. She unfastened the tennis skirt, which went in the same general direction, and was now naked apart from the socks and shoes.

‘Christ – I never expected that!’ she gasped; ‘that was amazing – kiddo, you’re a natural, there’s no doubt about it!’ She grinned at me ferociously, and I blushed but felt exultant at her accolade. Then she took my shoulders in her hands, and scrutinised my face again, affectionately but more seriously. ‘I want to be certain that you want this, babe,’ she stated, and then asked: ‘are you sure – really, really sure?’

She need not have worried, though I appreciated the care and concern that was motivating her enquiry – she was not just focusing on getting what she wanted, however desirable it might be. I had become more certain with every second, with every sight of her beautiful womanly body, with every touch of my fingers on her skin and of hers on mine. I looked her straight in the eye, knowing that she needed to know. Not wanting there to be any hesitancy, any holding back, when once she began to take me, I replied with simple, frank sincerity:

‘I have never, ever wanted anything so much in my life – or anyone. I know this is right for me, and you are right for me – just don’t stop, do it all the way, take me!’

The last wrinkle of frowning doubt vanished from her forehead, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation. Slowly, the hands on my shoulders slid under my bra straps and tugged them first sideways off my shoulders and then down to hang by my waist, in the process peeling the white cotton bra cups away from my young breasts. Releasing the straps, her hands rose to cup both of my titties, and as her mouth descended upon them I discovered for the first time how the pleasures which I had given her a few minutes before felt like from the other side. Really, there are no words good enough to capture the sensations that you experience when another woman’s lips, teeth and tongue suck, nibble and lick your own tits – amazing, stupendous, explosive don’t even come close, and erotic is a pale and useless term for the reality.

I was shaking and shivering from hot and cold flushes, feeling almost delirious as she alternated between my breasts with her mouth, whilst using her hand to tweak the nipple of whichever tit was not getting oral service. My eyes were closed so that I could ride the tides of feeling, and so I sensed rather than saw her reach behind me to unclasp my bra and remove it. The next bit, however, had my eyes open wide – as I gasped in even greater pleasure and arousal.

Her tongue left my nipple and traced its way over the lower part of that breast and then downwards, across chest and stomach, to its target of my pussy. As it neared my navel, swooping around it and licking its centre, Louise dropped to her knees and simultaneously pulled my panties down to my ankles; I lifted my left foot an inch off the floor and she slipped the panties over my trainer, leaving them still looped around the other ankle. With tantalising slowness, her tongue then began the next part of its downwards quest, as her hands with gentle pressure eased my legs into a wider and more open stance.

With the simultaneous precision of a D-Day landing, Louise’s tongue reached the top of my pussy cleft as the fingers of one hand reached up to touch and delicately probe the very bottom of the slit, and the other hand spanned the middle, pressing on each side of my labia to encourage them to separate and open.

I had never, ever felt anything like this in all of my tentative explorations of my own body, in all of my crude and childish masturbatory experiments. I was sobbing, tears of ecstasy rolling down my cheeks, the kind that you get from uncontrollable laughter, and someone in the room was making short inarticulate cries – I guessed it must have been me, for Louise’s mouth had slid down to the middle of my vagina and was sucking like a vacuum cleaner! As her agile tongue wormed up and down my pussy, she shifted the grip of her hands to my lower buttocks, squeezing them and pulling them apart, giving her greater and deeper access at the front. Her mouth moved upwards to make my clitoris its prisoner, and I lost all control – if any had been left by this point – as my pelvis shook in orgasm. With a long, low wail, I released myself into the growing orgasm like someone clinging by their fingertips to the cliff edge above a raging torrent – as I, too, was swept under, churned about, bouncing from one rock of sensation to another, and then was flung up again onto the shore in a shower of spray, gasping for breath.

Looking flushed and excited, Louise removed her lips from my labia and rose to her feet, with evident pleasure and satisfaction tasting the juices that had streaked her face.

‘That’s one first for you, honey; the first time you’ve been pussy-eaten by a woman. Now – stage two!’

I had remained standing through all this, my back leaning against the wall. Now, she took me by the hand and laid me down on the soft towels that were covering the exercise mat, as gently as if she were lowering me onto my bridal bed – which, of course, in many ways it was. I was on my back and she spread herself out beside me, lying on her side and with one elbow propping up her head. She ran her other hand gently over my body, almost in wonderment that such a sweet young prize had fallen into her lap. Then, sure that I was comfortably settled in place, she kissed me briefly on the lips before rising and going to one of the lockers. From my angle on the floor I could see that she rummaged in a kit-bag for a moment, before straightening and turning back towards me. In her hand was a vibrator – a smooth silver tube, slightly curved at the point. It looked huge to me, but in fact was no more than average; I learned later that it was a six-inch model of medium diameter.

‘I thought this might come in handy sometime,’ she commented with a mischievous grin, adding that she had been keeping it in her locker for the last two weeks, hoping for a chance to use it on me – and also, when our close proximity had aroused her too much, slipping in to this staff changing-room to use the little silver pleasure-machine on herself.

As I watched in fascination, she switched it on but did not immediately begin to insert it into me. First, she aroused me further – which I would not have thought was possible – by giving my pussy a firmer massage with her fingers and another series of probing kisses and licks from her tongue. Then, as the latter moved upwards to zero in on my breasts, I felt the rubbing pressure of the vibrator’s tip at the puckered open mouth of my vagina. I gave a soft gasp, and wordlessly showed my acquiescence by spreading my legs as wide apart as I could and thrusting my hips upwards against its pressure. The vibrator slid easily into my well-lubricated cunt, until the tip bumped gently against the dark membrane of my hymen. I gulped, tensing my abdominal muscles, and Louise raised her head from her tit-lapping to watch my face. I understood that she needed one last confirmatory signal and so, despite an errant doubt that made my thighs suddenly glisten with sweat, I licked along my lips and then gave a brief but firm nod of assent.

Louise nodded back, and the excitement of taking her first-ever virginity (she confirmed my suspicion on this point afterwards) showed on her face. At first, she cautiously pressed the wonderfully humming tip of the vibrator a little harder against the barrier, which proved less flimsy than either of us expected. She looked more determined, and pushed hard for an instant. My hymen parted to admit the metal rod, making me jerk and yelp – the sensation was curiously similar to banging one’s knee on a door frame: a brief flashing pain which was both disorienting and stimulating in a strange and tingling way. My virginity was no more, and for the first time something from outside penetrated down my vaginal tube, pressing me open, rubbing against nerve ends along its walls which I had not dreamed existed.

Louise withdrew the vibrator, and wiped it quickly on the nearby towel – I could not see this at the time, but later, when I stood up, I noticed the small browning smear of blood, which somehow made the whole thing more real. With barely a pause, she slid the vibrating shiny cylinder back into me, slowly working it in and out, and pressing a little further each time. Meanwhile, her fingers stretched open the top part of my slit, seeking for and finding my clitoris, and alternating between rubbing it and flicking it with her fingertips. This had an effect like the discovery of the combination number of a safe: my legs spread apart, my back arched and my buttocks lifted clear of the towels, and my vaginal muscles relaxed and loosened, admitting her thrusts further and allowing her to up the tempo.

It seemed like no time at all before I was shuddering and trembling in the throes of my second orgasm, which was even stronger than the first. My head lashed from side to side; I was whimpering and uttering broken words of beseechment, all of them entreaties to fuck me more, harder, deeper; my nipples were so stiffly erect and hyper-sensitive that I thought they would explode from my chest like fireworks; sweat gleamed on my face, stomach and thighs, and my hips were pushing spasmodically back against the intrusions of the metal dildo. Then, the coup de grace: Louise deftly removed the vibrator from my hole and thrust its throbbing tip against my clit, whilst the hand that had been stimulating me there drove two fingers deep into my vagina. I think I screamed as this stimulus blew me over the edge, but if I did it was a scream of exhilaration, of discovery and of joy. It was as if a tempest had raged through me, tossing everything up in the air, and I knew that I would never feel or think the same ever again – a threshold had been crossed that was much more than just losing a small scrap of skin, however much it was prized by society. As the tidal wave receded, I lay sprawled on my back across the rumpled white towels, and gazed up at the jutting breasts of my instructor in lesbian love.

Rather shyly, I asked her: ‘Was I OK?’

Louise looked surprised at the question. ‘You were amazing, sweetheart, truly – truly amazing. I never expected you to be so open for it, so free and so wild. You’re a knockout, d’y’know?’ Then she added, with a rueful laugh: ‘I should be asking that – was it OK for you, honey?’

Her words made me feel happier than I could express, and so I just emphatically nodded my positive response to her question. Then, trusting myself to speak despite a slight quaver in my voice, I asked her if she would want me again, if maybe we could do it more often, especially if I got my parents to continue my membership of the club.

Louise rolled over from her side to lie mainly on top of me, settling her thighs between my still-spread ones, her breasts resting almost tit to tit on mine. Her mouth found my lips, and she kissed me slowly and lovingly. Then, breaking mouth contact for a moment, she stroked my cheek with her fingers whilst assuring me that she would want to fuck me any time that I would have her, and that it did not need to be here – in fact, it could only be here if it was just us in the building – but that I was welcome to come to her flat. She told me that she shared with another, slightly older woman who was also a lesbian, but that they were good friends only and not attracted to each other as lovers. They had separate bedrooms, and one or the other often brought a girlfriend home for a night or a weekend.

I said at once that this sounded delightful, and so it has proven – during the six months since I lost my virginity, I have been Louise’s most-frequent lover (though not her only one, and neither of us would ask that exclusivity of the other, there are just far too many hot babes out there), sometimes at the gym on nights when she closes up, and other times on weekend afternoons and evenings (when my parents think I am at a friend’s house or a party), in the comfort of her bedroom. There has also been one unexpected bonus – her flatmate and I had an instant attraction to each other from the moment that we met on my third visit there, and Louise has no objection to my fucking with her sometimes as well. Her name is Nadia, a trim 29-year-old brunette with a great ass and a taste for tight skirts and black boots which show it to best advantage. She became my first for the last part of the trilogy of my lesbian initiation – taking me doggy-style with a strap-on cock. This was also a mind-blowing experience, and in the four months since she first impaled me with it, my cunt has opened wider and deeper. That first time, I only took five inches, and needed lube and careful coaxing to manage that; last Sunday, she fucked me without restraint with her wide eight-incher, and I took it all, hard and deep, with relish, gasping for her to shaft it deeper, grind down on me harder. She has a taste for dominance, and I knew such talk would send her into over-drive, and so it proved – she was shrieking almost louder than me as she slammed it home for the last convulsive thrusts, her orgasm taking her just seconds before mine.

My parents quite readily agreed to continue my membership of the gym, pleased that I was adopting a regime of regular exercise. Of course, they had no idea what my favourite method of burning off those extra calories had now become – they were just pleased that I looked so trim and had such a healthy glow, and I smiled quietly to myself and ran memories of my recent fucks with Louise or Nadia through my mind’s eye.

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