Virgin Whitlwind

'Beautifully put. And let me remind you again of our lesbian ancestress: "Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables",' to which, kissing me, she replied, 'She couldn't say this but we can: love is a cunting weaver of fantasies and fables.'

'Because we love each other, not possessively or exclusively but come-panionably.'

We patted each other's bottoms in agreement.

3

You will guess that our revels were not there ended but continued till we were exhausted and not another spasmlet could be wrung from our drained-out beings. You will also guess that the remainder of our time together on that holiday was spent hand-in-hand and hand-in-cunt. But I cannot conclude without the sequel.

We lived a good distance apart in the UK, so that to renew our activities we needed to visit each other, which took place sometimes. Meanwhile we both had sexual liaisons with other people, because, emboldened by her new knowledge and confidence, Lorna sought out lesbian clubs and experimented with other women, not all successfully. She was also eager to have intercourse with a trans-woman, but had no luck in finding one at all, let alone one ready to engage with her. Therefore, when she came to stay with me, I suggested we invite one of my trans-women artists to visit. This, however, did not happen, for a reason I shall make plain.

Lorna enjoyed coming to the gallery with me and looking at the works of art, especially those based on classical sources. And on her third visit, Jerome arrived, unannounced, with a new painting neatly wrapped in brown paper.

Jerome made a modest living from a mixture of portraiture, landscapes, fantasy pieces, the erotic material, and what were called 'boudoir' pictures. These were usually nudes or semi-nudes usually commissioned by men, of their wives or mistresses, though he had developed a good field in lesbian and gay nudes commissioned by their lovers.

He was a little younger than Lorna, about her height, slim and athletic in build, partly thanks to his marathon-running. He was deeply tanned, from holidays in the sun and training without a shirt. Everything about him was neat and economical, from his studio-flat to his clothing, which was usually t-shirt, jeans and trainers without socks, even in cold weather. Facially he wasn't conventionally handsome, but under his short pepper-and-salt hair his smooth complexion, short nose and usually smiling mouth made him attractive. What made him especially likeable was his bright, wide-set hazel eyes, and his friendly expression. He was, in fact, one of the kindest, most considerate men I knew, so that, not surprisingly, we had quite often shared a bed. In which he was an attentive and affectionate lover. Since he was particularly excited by well-rounded bottoms he was appreciative of my appearance.

I introduced him to Lorna, who at once recalled that this was the artist who loved to paint behinds, the one I had told her would probably welcome her as a model for Jocasta, mother and wife of Oedipus. She clearly liked the look of him and I could see the painting being done. He was obviously taken with her, even from the front view.

Having ascertained that Lorna would be ready to study his latest opus, he unwrapped the canvas and laid the picture face downwards on my desk while he carefully folded up the brown paper. Then he turned it over.

It was divided into three sections. In the first, two half-naked persons, male and female, seen from the rear are sprinting side by side, across a grassy plain with a distant view of mountains. The male is half turned to check where the female is. Needless to say, her rear, with one buttock bare, is at the golden mean of this part of the triptych. In the middle section, the male runner is well ahead, while the female is bending to pick up a golden apple, and her garment has slipped revealing her luscious bottom in its full glory. In the final episode, the couple, naked now, is engaged in sexual intercourse, in which the woman, facing away from the viewer is riding the male, which naturally allows an excellent sighting of her bum.

Lorna and I examined this work a few moments, before she commented, 'Callipygous.'

'Glad you noticed that,' Jerome remarked. 'Greek for beautifully bottomed.'

'Atalanta and Hippomenes,' said Lorna.

'She knows about your bottomising,' I said, 'And you should see hers.'

'Really!' Lorna said, 'Fancy suggesting such a thing,' but she was joking.

'Always happy see a bottom,' Jerome said.

'Turn round,' I told Lorna, and I lifted her skirt.

'Promising,' Jerome said.

'Push them down,' I said, still holding the skirt, and she did so.

'What am I doing?' she said. 'Not long since I would never have imagined showing my bare behind to a strange man.'

'He's not that strange,' I said.

Jerome himself was staring at the revealed, revered, rear, open-mouthed. After a few moments, he said, 'Wow!'

'You haven't seen all yet,' I said. 'Turn again, Lorna,' and as she did so, knickers round her knees, I kept the skirt up.

Jerome stared. 'Eureka! Snow white. Perfect for Jocasta.' He wriggled a little as if his jeans were uncomfortable, while Lorna pulled up her panties and I dropped the skirt and told her, 'The other thing about our Jerome is that when he sees a bottom he becomes so excited he needs to come. Usually I help him with that, but it occurs to me that since you haven't yet had a peos in your kolpos, you might like to take advantage.'

'Right now?' said Lorna. 'But what if Mr Jerome doesn't fancy taking advantage of an antique school-mistress near-virgin?'

'I think you'll find he can't wait,' I said, 'And let's go into my little study to find out.'

'Are you going to come, too?' Lorna asked. 'I might be shy about having you there while I'm taking advantage of a man I've just met.'

'Of course, I'm coming, too,' I said. 'You've been my student and now you're going to graduate. So, I must be present and lead him in.'

I locked the gallery door and led the way into the small room where I keep a couch. Once in there I told Lorna, 'Jerome is not aggressive or slavering, so he quite likes to be undressed and coaxed into action. Give a hand.'

It didn't take long to remove his trainers, tee-shirt, jeans and underpants, revealing his smooth, lean body with his hardening cock. After which I quickly stripped Lorna and urged her on the couch, on her back, legs apart. Then I guided an almost passive man between her legs, penis poised to enter her.

I felt between her legs and was pleased to find she was lubricating. 'She's ready,' I told Jerome I told Lorna, 'One of his virtues is that he takes a long time to come, so with my hand and his cock you may well come. I hope so.'

'Is this really Lorna the classical scholar, the near-virgin, lying here, waiting for a man to go into her while her companion masturbates her?' she wonderingly remarked.

'Yes, it is,' I said, 'Here he goes, and with a judicious push on Jerome's bottom, as neat as everything else about him, I urged his cock into her vestibule, and sought her clitoris with my finger. Without further urging, he began to slide slowly and steadily in and out, murmuring, 'Lovely! Joy. I love it. Just being in there. So beautiful...'

Her clitoris was erected and she was beginning to breathe heavily, while Jerome was thrusting a little more vigorously. She said, 'It's not the same as fingers, is it? Not so bony. I shall come soon, I think.'

'Go ahead,' I told her, 'Don't be polite and wait for Jerome. That's what brings him over. He needs the woman to come.'

'Well, in that case...' She began to pant and shake, then went rigid, uttering a 'Grrr' sound between her clenched teeth. Naturally, Jerome felt her vagina coming and he gasped rammed home and trembled as his orgasm took him.

I had a towel ready for when he withdrew. I left it under Lorna. She said, 'That's my last virginity gone, then. I could get to like that a lot.'

Jerome stood up, silent and drained, then he began to cry. I had seen him emotional before, but he had never wept after coming. He buried his face in my bosom and quivered.

'Oh dear,' Lorna said, 'Was it so dreadful?' She knew very well it was not so.

His muffled voice said, 'It was utterly wonderful.'

'Not so dreadful, then,' I said.

Jerome released me drew Lorna up from the bed and embraced her. She embraced him back and I left them, closing the door behind me.

The Jocasta picture was one of his best. Oedipus and his mother-bride are starting their wedding night. His gaze is fixed on what is making him rampantly erect, for she is half turned away, a pose cunningly chosen to reveal most of Lorna's bottom and a glimpse of her white fluff. Clearly it is not just beating the sphinx which enables him to claim the Theban throne, it is his desire for an older woman, whose age is signalled by her ripe rear and white hair.

Jerome and Lorna married not long after. Her bottom graced many another picture and they were happy together. She died a year ago, and he followed her soon after. As he said himself after her death, 'The bottom fell out of my life.'