Virgin Whitlwind

We lay in the sun, kissing and cuddling a while. Then I slipped down her body again and gave my attention to that fascinating vulva, gently opening the labia and this time seeking the vestibule and darting my tongue into it. She cried out, 'Oh marvellous! Marvellous!'

Then I slurped my way back to her clitoris and nudged it repeatedly, before gliding a finger into her vagina and twirling it round and round the slick interior. She said, 'How strange that feels. As if you're making it bigger.'

I stopped my sucking to say, 'It opens, and the walls distend. I can feel it now. Another dactylo now.' With two I stirred harder and she pushed her bottom down to take them further in, and said, 'Not much virginity in there after all these years. It feels as if you're right inside me. I think I can grip. Yes, yes, I can. Oh, that feels even more wonderful. Can you feel?'

'You are a natural at this. There's room for three.'

'Oh, tight now,' she said, 'But so good with the cli-tor-is. Helping me to come -- I do like that word, come, as if I'm coming to you, coming inside myself.'

It was not long, in fact, before she said quietly, 'Its quaking in there. Extraordinary! It's trembling and gripping. I'm going to, going to, come. Here it comes!' And it was, indeed. She bucked and shook, jarring my mouth against her pubis.

Again, we lay in each other's arms as her breathing steadied and she giggled again, and eventually said, 'I think I read somewhere that women could have several orgasms, but I never got beyond imagining just one.'

'It varies from woman to woman and time to time,' I instructed. 'The maximum for me was seven, I think. That was with an especially skilful trans-woman, who could also come several times without leaving my cunt.'

'You said that deliberately to see if I would be shocked, didn't you? Well, I know it's very rude, but it's also another name for vagina. I'll have to try it myself, I think, and see what I feel about it.'

'Go on, then,' I urged her.

'Well, all right. Could I come again with your fingers in my cunt?'

'Yes, you could, I suspect. But you used the word correctly.'

She giggled again. 'I liked saying "my cunt." It made me feel grown-up at last. Sixty-three and saying "my cunt." What would my colleagues say?'

'They'd say it was about time and what about their cunts?'

She grew thoughtful and said, 'And what about yours? Can I lick you and put my fingers in your cunt?'

'You certainly can, but at present we're initiating you. We're companions, remember, and companions give each other satisfaction. So, now we're going to see if there's another orgasm in that little acorn of yours and that drooling cunt.'

'It is rather drooling, isn't it? That's from you stirring it up like that, though I do know that cunts make lubrication when they're roused. I never made as much as this before -- but, then, I wasn't properly roused. Except when I thought Caroline was going to make me come. Oh, I'm getting used to this new language. Let me try some more. That trans-woman came in your cunt. I'd love to see that, not just say it.'

'You'd enjoy a trans-woman coming in your cunt, too,' I said. 'But for now, it's my fingers, and here they go again, burrowing up your cunt. Can you feel them?'

'Of course. I used to feel a tampon so I ought to feel your fingers. And the tampon didn't move about like that...Oh now you're licking my clitoris again...There's Greek at the back of that somewhere...I think you're pressing my cervix...Latin, again, for "neck" ...'

I realised that though my right hand was busy, my left was idle. I put it to finger her right nipple, which erected further and drew a comment. 'Much more sensitive now you're doing my clitoris and cunt. So many new experiences!'

When her vagina began to spasm I knew the orgasmos was approaching. As she did. 'Another one. I'm going to come, aren't I? You can't answer, can you? No need. My nipple and my clitoris are doing it. Oh, and it's happening in my cunt! I'm coming!'

I relinquished the clit and turned my head, so that it was my ear that was pressed into her soft, yielding skein, and bounced a little with the jerking of her pelvis. Soon we were embracing again and she was voluble with the glowing aftermath of what was surely a more powerful orgasm than the first. 'You're a witch, you know. A good one, able to make magic for a tired old virgin schoolmarm, who always longed to come but didn't have the chance, till she came twice. You put a spell on her outside that café, didn't you? Yes, you did. D'you know I began to be damp even before we agreed to walk together? You do know, yes, because you were feeling me up -- another expression I never used before -- with your eyes...Weren't you?'

'Yes,' I agreed. 'I was reaching into your knickers with my mental fingers, hoping you were going to feel them in your subconscious.'

'No-one ever looked at me like that. Not even Caroline, because she just wanted to make herself come, but you wanted to make me come.'

'Yes,' I said, 'And you knew that deep inside.'

We held each other and kissed a long time, sweating happily in the sun, till she said, 'You must want to come, too, though? And now I know how to make you come, if I do the same as you did. You do want to come, don't you?'

'Lorna, I wanted to come, with you, since you stood by that table. As soon as I saw you I began leak into my skirt. But we shouldn't go too fast for you. You might not fancy the idea of licking my sweaty, wet pussy and putting your tongue in my vulva.'

'I probably would never have had the idea of doing that, even when I was hoping Caroline would make me come, but you've bewitched me, so I'm longing to do it. Lie on your back and open your legs. How wonderful to say that!'

We changed places, and she took charge, like a keen apprentice who is determined to master the craft. She kissed me, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. She took a nipple between fingers and thumb and rolled it, before moving her mouth to the other one and applying foot pounds of suction. She made little 'hmm' noises as she concentrated, eventually moving down to bring her cheek against my fuzz, keeping up a running commentary: 'Your pussy is so stiff and wiry, and so dark. I do like it. It's the opposite of mine, I suppose. And look at your labia, so pink and springing out of the outer ones. Can I open them? They're sort of folding out themselves. That's because they're aroused, isn't it? There's your vulva, glistening with your dampness from your cunt. Marvellous! I'm looking into another woman's vagina. I really can see its opening. Can I put a finger in, or two? Oh, that feels so...intimate...it's all hot and slippery...my fingers just glide in for ever. This must be your cervix up there...'

I was now getting the benefit of those enormous hands, for her long digits were probing the limits delightfully. She was vigorously stirring the pot, and her enthusiasm and sheer interest were exciting me as much as the actual sensations. 'How elastic it is,' she was saying. 'Pliant but firm. All muscle, isn't it? No wonder we can grip with it. I read about doing exercises to help that, probably in a woman's magazine. I used to read those, because they were the only sources of such information. I can tell you're enjoying this. You're wriggling about. Lifting your...pussy...I think that means you'd like me to lick you now. Here goes!'

She laid my labia open like a book, held down the pages with the unemployed hand and applied her tongue vigorously to my vulva for several minutes.

Then she paused to ask, 'Is that how you like it? I like the taste, though it takes a bit of getting used to. I'll have a go at your clitoris next. I'm so excited. A new experience every minute. There it is. Isn't it sweet?'

It certainly felt sweet as her eager tongue was plastered onto it and then run back and forth along my flooded groove for a while, its tip ending on the clit-head, with such energy that the movement of her head and jaw to maintain this attack eventually made her pant with exertion. At which point she paused, swallowed the mouthful of saliva and vulvejuice and asked anxiously, 'Am I doing it right?'

'Slower and more rhythmically with the tongue and fingers,' I instructed, 'And you'll be able to tell when I'm coming. Mind you, I'll let you know, because I love it when women and trans-women say they're coming, and when they come, and I can't resist speaking, either.'

'I shall like that,' she said, 'I want to be there when you come, having it with you.'

'That's a true companion,' I said. 'Remember what "companion" means in Latin.'

'Someone you take bread with, a communion, yes. Sharing orgasm, a come-union.'

'Soon we'll be able to come together, too, double-orgasm,' I said. 'But now you're going to come me. You're giving me your virginity another way, you know - your first time bringing someone to orgasm. That is beautiful and fulfilling. You're going to take me.'

'Yes,' she said, 'You took me, and you're taking me again another way, when I take you. I'm taking you with my fingers and tongue and everything of me.'

She half withdrew her fingers and pushed them home again, again and again, and plied her tongue and lips gently and confidently, and the orgasm began to gather as a little breeze through my nerves. I said, 'Hold my breasts,' and she gathered one and swung it towards the other, so that that huge hand was able to fold itself round much of their bulk and rock them tenderly side to side and up and down. This was so moving that tears came to my eyes as the breeze turned into a gale and then into the whirlwind of ice-cold and red-hot sensation. My whole body became my clitoris, or my clitoris became my body, my vagina opened to engulf all her fingers and wavered against them in pulsations like an ejaculating cock, each pulse intensifying the ecstasy a moment.

Her body became rigid against me, her hands now motionless and holding me as my body convulsed and shuddered, and at the perfect moment she moved to bring her lips to mine, sharing the come-wine. After which we slowly settled and I said, 'I'm not the only witch, or else you're an angel, because you just knew what to do. How did you know to cram all your fingers into me? That was perfect.'

'Simple,' she said, 'I just wanted to do that. I wanted to get as much of me inside you as I could, and your cunt opened and in they went.'

'You've no idea how much I needed that,' I said.

'Yes, I have,' she said, 'After all, you haven't been waiting forty years for it.'

'You're right, of course. I can tell you, though, that that was the orgasmost.'

'Another nice coinage. What a linguistic day this is, in two senses.'

'Wait till both tongues are talking together,' I said.

'Ah, you mean when both are clitorising?'

'More word-play. Yes, but I think we'll save that for after dinner, in bed.'

She laughed. 'Do you promise? To be able to plan to make love -- amazing!'

'In the meantime,' I said, let's clitorise together -- and then have lunch.'

We rolled onto our sides, loosely holding each other. She said, 'How do we do it? I see, we bend up a knee and open the way.'

'That's right. Now cross arms -- you go over -- and feel for it with a finger-tip. Straight onto it! I don't need to teach you anymore. Follow your instinct.'

Gently we womanipulated the little nubs and felt the orgasm gather as the buzz spread out from them. She suddenly said quietly, 'I know why we're doing this. This is what Caroline and I should have done together. You're showing me what might have been.'

'But also, what can be. We're on the way, aren't we? Let's try to synchronise. Try this.' I slipped two fingers into her and gave my thumb over to her clitoris.

She was quick to do the same for me. 'That's clever. I can say something marvellous now. I'm going to come, but I want come with you, yes. Am I doing it right?'

'I'm coming, Lorna. Come with me. Come now.'

There is nothing in the world more stupendous than coming simultaneously with another woman. We uttered cries of triumph and glee, clutching each other together and gently moving the golden fingers and thumbs to ease the descent from paradise and bring that warm, comforting, comfortable glow of contentment which follows mutual orgasm.

Our love-making had lasted, of course, much longer than it take to narrate it. Nearly two hours had passed since we lay down and we had taken as much sun as we should. Besides, we were hungry and thirsty. We stood up and Lorna picked up her knickers.

I said, 'Don't put them on. I can't bear the idea of that amazing white puss mewed up behind a gusset.

'Oh, I wasn't going to put them on,' she said, using them to wipe my thighs, vulva and bottom, before wiping her own.

'Smell them,' I said, and she held them so we could both breathe in their heady scent.

'Wonders after wonders. I never dreamed I'd one day be sniffing my pants after sex.'

We put on our damp shirts and our skirts, stuffed our bras in our packs and got out our packed lunches. After eating we resumed our interrupted exploration, and I let Lorna walk ahead so that I could lift the back of her skirt and remark, 'The movement of a woman's bottom when she walks must be the result of natural selection,' I said. 'The women whose bums oscillated like that were the ones who got fertilised.'

'You do like bottoms, don't you? Let's have a look at yours.' She let me pass her and lifted my skirt. 'I see what you mean about the movement.'

'One of my male artists is a bottomist. He calls himself an arsetist, sees himself as a latter-day William Etty...He was a Victorian painter who loved bottoms...must have painted more of them than any other artist. My man Jerome would faint if he saw yours. Then he'd want to draw and paint it. I must introduce you. You should see his versions of classical subjects. The caption to his Helen of Troy is, "Was this the arse which launched a thousand ships?" And his Circe seems to owe her sorcery to special gyrations of her bum. I know he's looking for a Jocasta, and you'd be perfect.'

'Yet more wonders,' she said. 'I've hardly bared my behind to another woman than you're wanting me to show it to an artist and let him use me as a model.'

We walked two hours and headed back to the hotel for tea, where she said, 'Don't we smell a bit? Should you put on your bra?'

'You're not at school now. We can do what we like, so long as no-one complains.'

'But I am at school,' she said. 'Your special sex-school.'

'Where,' I said, 'You're a model student.'

2

I will skip over our teatime, and go on to our shared shower. Since we could not bear to be parted, we decided to wash and prepare for dinner in her room. I fetched my toiletries, towel and evening outfit and we were soon agreeably soaping each other under the luke-warm douche, and she was remarking at yet another novel departure in her life in this one day.

There is something especially pleasant about be able to slide your hands over your lover's body. Nipples and pussies feel somehow more accessible, simultaneously more 'real.' With the result, it is impossible not to turn the practical ablutions into further sex. The soapy fingers naturally slide into the cracks and crannies and it is easy to kneel and apply the mouth to newly refreshed and clean crevices. I even believe that arousal and completion are actually speedier under the waterfall.

I turned Lorna, knelt behind her and repeatedly jammed my tongue in her crack, before slurping deeply within it from where the cheeks first separated all the way to where they tucked under and the crack became the little trench of her vulva with the vagina at its lower end. She found this another interesting experience, and gladly bent forward and parted her legs to let me probe her vestibule with tongue and thumb. The view of a woman's genitalia from below and behind is endearing and inflammatory, and I continued pushing my tongue into her vagina while reaching through her legs and upwards to find her clitoris.

'I'm not sure I can come again just now,' she said, 'But your tongue in my cunt is so soothing. There I go again, "tongue in my cunt"! And I can say it almost casually. "Norma, would you mind putting your tongue up my cunt? Thank you, Norma, that is so fearfully pleasant, and perhaps I will come if you go on tinkering with my clitoris." And actually, yes, I think I will.' And she did. Not an orgasmajor, more an orgasminor.

'The intensity varies,' I instructed her. 'This was a maintenance come, a zephyr not a whirlwind. And you can do me, in about half a minute if you just tickle my clit. That's right. Kiss...' And I came in a gentle flood of pleasure, while she held and kissed me.

Then we dried each other, resisting the temptation to prod and poke, tweak and twirl, and the question arose as to whether we would wear underwear beneath our dresses, the conclusion being that we had better or our smart gowns might be compromised by leakages, caused by our being in close proximity and in a continuing condition of excitation, partly resulting from my promise earlier that we would tongue together after dinner.

Chastely bra-ed and knickered we dined, sharing more autobiography and outlooks on the world, and then adjourned to her bedroom again. Where, without haste we took off and hung our dresses and stood before each other in our clean underwear. Then she said, 'Another lesson now, Miss Norma, please.'

'First, then, Lorna, remove the bra and panties. Good. Now lie on the bed, leaving room for teacher, facing this way. Are you sure you're ready to go ahead? I mustn't pressurise you.'

'You're teasing your student now, and that's not good practice. You know full well I'm not just ready but so eager I'm leaking already. Did you hear that? Did I ever even think such a thing before?'

I lay facing her and we began to kiss and stroke each other. She murmured little comments, 'Wherever you touch me it goes straight to my...pussy.' 'Do big breasts have more feeling in them than small ones?' 'With a big behind there's more to stroke and enjoy, isn't there?' 'What fun it is to talk about what you're doing -- I always thought people having sex would be deadly serious and silent, but, as you said, the talking adds to the excitement.'

'It's part of the come-panionship,' I said. 'Telling your partner your feelings, asking for something, announcing your orgasm.'

'Come-panionship. That's good. Oh, that's nice -- reaching for my cunt from the back.'

'Means I can have my wrist buried in those magnificent cheeks.'

'You know,' she said, 'I'm going to come in a minute. It seems to get easer each time.'

'Now is the moment for the come-union, then,' I said. 'Bend up the knee again.'

I got off the bed, and lay down again alongside her, head resting on her thigh, mouth positioned at her pussy-mouth. I bent up my own knee and she laid her head on my thigh.

'How neat,' she said, 'Head to tail. Double-tonguing, then?'

There was no need to say more. Tongues scooted along vulvae, fingers delved vaginas, until it was obvious that orgasms were imminent. 'Tell me, Lorna,' I said, stopping the licking a moment, and she paused to say, 'Coming, Norma, coming,' and that sparked my climax as both of us shook, tongues and fingers pressing hard.

After a while I reversed my position so that we could suck our exudations from each other's mouths and hold each other in cuntentment. Eventually I said, 'A cuntsummation devoutly to be wished.'

'But isn't that death in the Shakespeare?'

'Remember that in his time the orgasm was called "the little death".'

'All those puns about dying, yes. But I've never felt more alive.'

'Lorna,' I said, 'We are now come-panions forever, even if we part shortly and never meet again.'

'Our orgasmos infuses the cosmos,' she said quietly.