It was Colleens hand, I tried to continue breathing as I imagined I would if I were asleep, I did not want to alert Colleen to my awakened state but my heart was racing and I was almost to the point of orgasm I was so excited. She slowly placed a finger on my nipple, which was already jutting out rigid through my nightie, I was tempted to respond and let her know that I was awake but I did not wish to end the moment. I was yearning for her to play with my nipples and suck them for me but this was a little impracticable given that she thought I was asleep.
Three years previous to writing this I had a relationship that I will never forget nor regret, I have alluded to this event to some close acquaintances with whom I chat to over the internet, but have never told the full facts of the matter to anyone. I hope that some may find this as interesting as I myself have found the experiences of others.
I will explain a little of myself to place these events into some context:
I was born in Scotland during the July of 1976, this I am told was a notable year for the UK because of the very warm summer which was untypical, not that my birth had anything to do with it of course. Unknown to my Mother at the time of my birth was the fact that my Father had died whilst on service with the Royal Navy, she later told me that he died on the very day that I was born. I wasn't sure if this was exactly true because the Navy refused to provide details about his death due to the nature of his work. My Mother was never convinced about the facts of his death because she too worked for Naval Intelligence and understood other interpretations to the statement " killed during a training exercise", added to this is the fact that his body was never recovered (My Father was based at Faslane in Scotland which is a nuclear submarine Base). She knew that this statement was also a euphemism for men who were killed during some secret conflict (of which there are many), suffice to say she was notified of his death on the day I was born. Very soon after my birth we moved back to England and I began life on my Fathers estate, it is not too grand compared to some I know of but it covers a wide expanse of moorland and ancient woodland and it is without doubt a very beautiful estate.
The estate was named after a character from a Tennyson poem and it evokes wonderful images of the ancient peoples of Albion (England) and the Sirule from whom all magical things were descended. The estate is my only tangible link to my Father and it echoes his former presence and sustains his memory. He grew up here throughout his childhood and beyond and the family albums show him as he changed from boy to man, his life appeared to be one of privilege but I know little of his thoughts or beliefs.
At the age of eleven I was sent to a Convent to be educated, this was a very pleasant time for me due to the fact that I met so many others girls of my own age. Life on the estate was often quite lonely and isolated and most of my contact with others was restricted to my Mothers staff who were obviously adult and my Tutor Ms. Vivien.
Prior to going to the convent much of my time was spent reading and day dreaming of Knights and Damsels in distress and the usual things that I assume young children ponder. I was never a naturally gifted child (none too bright) but excelled in things that I liked such as art and natural history. My life at the convent was quite uneventful until my final year, I was aged about 17 years and I had established myself as one of the sixth year matures.
I know that there are many stereotypes regarding convent-educated girls but these are, for the most part, drawn from male fantasy as far as I can make out. Whilst we played little games and had crushes on various other girls I have never perceived our activities as lewd or sinister. One particular girl who was quite well developed used to make some of the girls eat salt in order to decide which would spend time with her in her room. She would tell us about sex and how it was done. She would sometimes sit on the sofa and get me to feel her cunny through her knickers, I was enthralled by her demeanour each time I would do this, her face would become flushed and her breathing more intense. She used to get me to lie at her side and rub her; sometimes she would press my hand onto her cunny. Other times she would put my hand inside her knickers and gently stroke her, she would become quite angry if I did not do it properly. Sometimes she would stop me suddenly, she would tell me that I must go and that she was tiring of me but this was her way of teasing I think.
On other occasions I would have to lie on my back with my eyes blindfolded as she rubbed herself against me, she would tell me not to move or make a sound, I had to lie perfectly still. She was admired greatly by many of the other girls because she was quite well developed and appeared very mature to us. We were all forbidden to share a bed and one or two girls were punished for breaking this rule, some of the girls found it difficult to be away from home and would seek comfort from others. I never shared my bed but I know that a number of girls used to share and lie facing each other whilst they caressed each other's breasts. Sometimes I would lie in bed trying to see as much as I could in the half-light of the moon but this was rarely a fruitful exercise. The discovery of our own sexuality was a natural part of growing up and even now I do not view our secret games as anything other than a natural consequence of this. There were no males in the convent and the only time we ever saw a man was when various suppliers of foodstuffs and laundry etc made deliveries. We were not allowed to venture too close when such deliveries were made, great effort was made to keep us from the contact of those who were regarded as undesirable.
Sometimes she would stop me suddenly, she would tell me that I must go and that she was tiring of me but this was her way of teasing I think. Other times I would have to lie on my back with my eyes blindfolded as she rubbed herself against me, she would tell me not to move or make a sound, I had to lie perfectly still. She was admired greatly by many of the other girls because she was quite well developed and appeared very confident to us. We all had to perform menial tasks for the older girls such as clean their rooms (we had dorms), their shoes and make tea etc. This was not compulsory and the school did not encourage this practice but it was wise to do as required or one was likely to be shunned and isolated by the older girls if we did not fit in. We were all forbidden to share a bed and one or two girls were punished for breaking this rule, some of the girls found it difficult to be away from home and would seek comfort from others. I never shared my bed but I know that a number of girls used to share and lie facing each other whilst they caressed each other's breasts. Sometimes I would lie in bed trying to see as much as I could in the half-light of the moon but this was rarely a fruitful exercise. The discovery of our own sexuality was a natural part of growing up and even now I do not view our secret games as anything other than a natural consequence of this. There were no males in the convent and the only time we ever saw a man was when various suppliers of foodstuffs and laundry etc made deliveries. We were not allowed to venture too close when such deliveries were made, great effort was made to keep us from the contact of those who were regarded as undesirable.
This was not simply a snobbish perception of working people; the Nuns seemed to think that the Devil was waiting to corrupt us in the guise of a man at any and every opportunity.
There is a popular belief that Nuns swish around in their great long habits totally up tight and repressed; this is not the case at all. Most Nuns are very fun loving, do not always wear their habits and they do have a sexuality, I could evidence this but it is not appropriate to do so.
Any road up, back to the main theme:
In my final year at school I did rather well in my 'A' level exams and was accordingly despatched to Westfield University of London, would you believe it, my college was formerly an all girl college on Finchley road. Our accommodation block, which was on the perimeter of the college, overlooked some of the older London houses, which had been converted into apartments. We saw some very interesting sights from our windows on many occasions; I was on the second floor which had a marvellous view of the long gardens situated at the back of each house.
There was another accommodation block for womyn situated across from the library building which was very popular with those who used the music section of the library. This was due to the fact that the music section overlooked the bedrooms of the womyn who could be seen at various stages of undress, as they awoke midmorning (not uncommon for some to sleep in quite late), the girls never seemed to close their curtains. The men were housed in separate blocks on the campus.
College life was very strange and interesting to me, as I had never been exposed to such a variety of cultures and peoples previously; I was very naieve in many ways. I was amazed by the freedom and liberalism that I encountered, I was also disappointed by the attitudes of men towards womyn. In my early years I was always surrounded by other womyn and I had not encountered any chauvinistic prejudices, I was quite disappointed and dismayed. My natural reticence towards men was no doubt a result of the lack of contact with them in my earlier years, I must confess at that time I was at a loss as to how one should deal with them on a social/sexual level. All of my heroes were (and still are) womyn like Marie Stopes, Georgina Rossetti, Sylvia Plath and some were beautiful Nuns who exuded grace and serenity.
During my first year I made a couple of good friends and life ticked along with the odd break during which I would visit my Mother. During that first year I made a friend who was quite special to me, a love I had but was not to keep.
She was part Malayan and her father was a Scottish soldier who served in Burma after the war, to cap it all she had an Irish name `Colleen`.
Her lineage was not too dissimilar from mine in that we both had Irish blood in our veins and Scottish ancestry too. My Colleen was special and golden to me, she had such beautiful eyes, and a stunningly dark complexion and she had a sensuous beauty. We spent many hours revising together either in her room or mine and we became quite close over that first year.
It was during one of our revision sessions in my room that I had my first mature (for want of a better term) experience with another womyn. We had spent the early evening revising the Pre-Raphaelite movement (Victorian Artists Brotherhood) and in particular those works dealing with the Arthurian legend. We indulged ourselves with a light white wine and soon were gushing over the beauty of the womyn who posed for the paintings (I recommend that you look up the Pre-Raphaelites in the Yahoo Arts search engine, Rossetti). It was an unusually warm evening and I had not realised how much my blood had warmed until I squatted down to retrieve some more wine from under the bed, I was wearing tight fitting jeans and as I was squatting the thick stitching at the zipper pressed heavily onto my bud. The sensation was electric, I could feel myself becoming very excited but also struggled to hide the fact from Colleen who was puzzled by the expression on my face.
I became flushed and was clearly struggling to contain my pleasure at the sensations being created by the stitching, Colleen asked ` what's wrong, you look kind of funny`, I was too embarrassed to say but came out with a feeble cramp in the toe excuse. She just looked at me smiling as I glowed with embarrassment, she started giggling and said `oh yeah, cramp eh` to which I replied no comment hoping that she would assume that the wine was responsible. I opened the window further to try and cool off and regain some composure, we both stood at the window, each with a glass of wine as we looked out over the houses that stood very close by. We began to comment idly about the people within the houses as they went about their business, some watching TV, some reading and some just chatting.
It was about ten PM and one of those dark summer nights when the stars were in clear view but not at all cold, I was feeling rather heady. This was perhaps the result of the wine but I have always loved the warm summer evenings because they tend to keep the blood warmed in a most erotic way.
On previous occasions I had brought myself to orgasm as I looked upon the activity within the houses across the way, I have witnessed so many erotic sights from my room. My writing desk was situated in front of the window and I have on more than one occasion sat in the chair with a cushion between my thighs and against my cunny pretending to read and/or write as I looked furtively out of the window. Sometimes I would rub my mons over the edge of the desk as I leaned forward casually looking out of the window; I would apply gentle pressure against my bud as I leaned over. My favourite method was too use the cushion and squeeze my thighs together as I was being observed by someone from one of the houses, I felt particularly wicked as they had no idea as to what I was doing beneath the table, more often than not I would have to discretely finish myself off with my fingers, it was an electric experience each time I indulged myself, but back to Colleen....
As we continued to look out of the window we observed a young woman as she returned home from an evening out, she casually undressed and we could clearly see her breasts and nipples from our vantage point, then a young man in another house undressed himself with the curtains wide open as he usually did. Later we saw a couple also returning from an evening out and a while later they began to have sex on the garden patio, this got us quite hot especially when he went down on her to taste her delights. I was enthralled by her movement as he pleasured her intensely. We both felt hot and bothered by what we witnessed and withdrew from the window giggling nervously after they had satisfied themselves with each other's touch. Colleen was to stay that night and this frustrated me a little because I was yearning to relieve myself but contented myself that there would be other opportunities.
As it was a single room I only had one bed but sharing was not a problem as we had shared my bed and hers many times previously and there was nothing to it. However, this evening was different because we were both still thinking of what we had seen.
As I lay in bed I could feel the heat of Colleen's body, as she lay partially uncovered, I kept still silently thinking naughty thoughts. I dared not touch myself in case Colleen sensed my movement so I lay there quiet waiting till I fell to sleep.
I'm not sure what time it was but I must have been in the land of Nod when I felt a pressure on my breast, when I realised what it was a wave of intense excitement raced through me.
It was Colleens hand, I tried to continue breathing as I imagined I would if I were asleep, I did not want to alert Colleen to my awakened state but my heart was racing and I was almost to the point of orgasm I was so excited. She slowly placed a finger on my nipple, which was already jutting out rigid through my nightie, I was tempted to respond and let her know that I was awake but I did not wish to end the moment. I was yearning for her to play with my nipples and suck them for me but this was a little impracticable given that she thought I was asleep. She then began to nudge herself closer to me so that her body was touching mine; I could feel her nipple on my arm as her breast was pressing against me through the nightie that I had loaned her. It sounds strange but the fact that she was wearing my nightie added to the eroticism of the moment I could sense that she was shaking nervously as she moved closer and ever so slowly encouraged my nightie to ride up my thighs, then I felt her skin against my thigh as she held her mound against my leg, she had obviously raised her nightie and had been fingering herself because I could feel the sticky wetness on my thigh. I remained still, praying that she did not suspect that I was awake, as she moved away from me slightly and placed a hand on my thigh. She was moving in a discrete way but was obviously rubbing herself as her hand rested on my thigh, then her breathing gave way to a gasp which she tried to restrain but I felt her body tense up as she came. I was almost delirious with lust for her and felt such an exquisite yearning in my cunny, I was soaking wet and could feel my desire oozing between my thighs. Very soon after she got up out of bed and went to the bathroom, I took the opportunity to touch myself but dared not start rubbing in case she caught me when she returned, I held my arm as still as I could but moved my fingers discretely. As she climbed back into bed I rolled over and lay with my back to her, again I discretely squeezed my breasts and nipples but had to stop because I was almost ready to scream with frustration and desire. It occurred to me as I lay there that she may have done this on previous occasions when I had stayed overnight but I had not known or realised it. My mind was racing as I pictured various scenarios in which she would fondle and lick me whilst I was sleeping, I struggled to drop off to sleep but of course did so eventually.
When we awoke next morning I acted as though I had slept like a log and mentioned to Colleen how strong the wine must have been, I was out cold. We had coffee and toast before she had to dash across to the other block and get changed for classes that day. I also recall that I had to launder both nighties that day because they showed evidence of some excited activity, there were tell tale stains indicating the mood of the previous night.
I always remember this event because it was the first time that I ever seriously considered a long-term relationship with another woman. I pleasured myself many times thinking about that night with Colleen but I never once told her that I was awake.
The relationship developed further but I always recall that first encounter, I will perhaps recount other experiences one day but this is the end of this one.
NOTE: Did you remember to bookmark this page so you can find it again?
Submit a story - Writers of adult fiction who enjoy sharing their writing talents with readers of erotic literature are welcome to send us their stories.