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EMMA video showing men making love

 

Emma

====

I

It is Breakfast Time and Television Screens throughout the country are
tuned to Arouse Yourself on the Cable Television Station Harlot TV, just
one of the many Sex tv Stations available. Harlot tv is a Three X
classified station, which means that it is considered responsible enough to
broadcast Hard Core Porn, but hasn't yet got a Four X classification
allowing it to go to the very edge of Sex Broadcasting. For years, Harlot
TV has struggled to attain this status - broadcasting serious Sex
Documentaries, serious Sex Discussion programs and commissioning drama
programs where sex, although the obvious raison d'être, is supported by
reasonable story-lines and scripted dialogue.

In the Arouse Yourself studio, there are three naked people. One is
Frank, the show's host, and another is one of today's guests, a top
magazine model Samantha. Frank has his prick firmly up Samantha's cunt (not her arse, as this is Breakfast Television and rules have to obeyed)
and the Television cameras are alternating between shots of the penetration
and Samantha's ecstatic facial expressions (which are probably as much
faked as on the cover of the magazines in which Samantha appears). The
hostess of the show, Anna, has put on a bath-robe and is wiping her cunt dry with a tissue. A few items ago, she had had sex with another guest on
a Sexual Exercises Item. She is seven months pregnant and part of the
theme of her continued appearance is that sex is still compatible with
pregnancy.

The third naked person is Emma. She is not having sex, has not had sex
today and has no intention of doing so. In fact Emma has only once in her
life had sex and she enjoyed it so little she hasn't done so since.
However, Emma is a Strict Naturist, as well as a Strict Vegetarian and a
Strict Tee-Totaller. She works as a Research Assistant for Arouse Yourself
which involves finding guests for the program, assessing the amount of
sexual activity they are willing to undertake (which varies by choice and
fee - the more sex the bigger the fee) and drawing up a schedule of
questions and chat-up lines for the presenters.

The reason she works on Harlot tv is not because she is a great
supporter of pornographic television. Indeed, she finds the theme of sex
rather monotonous with its limited range of permutations constantly paraded
on the screen. The reason is that there are not very many employers who
are willing to employ a Strict Naturist - one who wears clothes for the
smallest possible period of time. In fact, the stricter a Naturist one is
the less time one wears clothes and the fewer clothes one owns. Emma owns
only one item of clothing - a bikini bottom she wears to work in the
Summer. The others she borrows from her flat-mates. She wouldn't own the
bikini either if she wasn't frightened of germs. She washes the bikini
bottom every day after wearing it.

It isn't Summer now, but a quite cool day in Spring but Emma came to
work wearing only a coat she borrowed from her flat-mate, Charlotte, which
comes half-way down her thighs. It was very early in the morning when Emma
arrived and there weren't that many people about, so she was able to
discard even this coat when she got a seat on the underground train until
she got near enough to the City Centre. Nudism is still illegal in most
places, although toplessness was rarely frowned on except at particular
places like the Opera or the work-place. It was a relief when Emma got to
work and was able to hang the coat up. It was an old coat that made her
look a bit like a tramp, but Emma made a point of never evaluating clothes
except on the basis of how much flesh they covered up.

She wasn't the strictest Naturist imaginable. She occasionally trimmed
her thick mousey-brown hair, which only grew to half-way down her back, and
she regularly washed it. She also took care to wear something on her feet
- but strictly of a utilitarian nature. Because it was Spring, these were
currently little flat-soled booties with fur lining as Emma didn't wear
socks. However, she never wore make-up and she never shaved any of the
hair on her body, particularly not around her cunt which had a rich thick body of hair slightly darker than the hair on her head.

After the program finished, there was the usual discussion on how the
program went and then there would normally have been the briefing where
staff would discuss which items would be scheduled for future presentation.
Unexpectedly however, Emma was summoned to the Managing Director's office.
What could this mean? Emma wondered. Perhaps this was another employer,
like her last, Sun TV, a holiday tv station, who were tightening up on the
licence they allowed their staff.

The Managing Director was a small man with a penchant for cigars, which
Emma found thoroughly disgusting but she restrained the temptation to
comment. His office resembled the office of most Managing Directors except
for the scattered pictures of Harlot tv presenters in different degrees of
undress.

"This is going to be a very confidential meeting between just you and
me, Emma," the Managing Director announced. "The main point is that I'm
taking you off Arouse Yourself."

This hit Emma as the least welcome news she could imagine. She'd
enjoyed working for the program and had got the distinct impression that
the rest of the program staff got on with her and had a high regard for her
abilities. Sure, there had been difficulties at the beginning with all the
male staff trying to seduce her on the misapprehension she was like those
other Naturists who equated freedom from the tyranny of clothes as the
freedom to fuck whoever you wanted all the time.

"Is that because of my Naturist views?" Emma ventured to ask.

"No, not at all!" reassured the Managing Director. "Some 20% of my
staff are Naturists of one kind or another - most being men of course. No,
the only odd thing is that you're in the minority of Naturists here who
aren't presenters or stand-ins! I'm taking you off because I want to give
you a more responsible job."

"Thank you, sir. That's a great relief."

"As you know, Harlot tv has wanted to get Four X rating for a long time.
You must know how limiting it is for us when we have to skirt round such
things as under-age sex, sado-masochism, bestiality, and so on. It takes
great skill to work within the limits that are bound for us as a Three X
station. Well, and this is highly confidential, we will be getting Four X
status soon. The Minister for the Arts and Entertainment has personally
assured me that the quality of our programming is now of a high enough and
responsible level for us to get that extra X. This will do wonders for our
prestige, increase our audience figures, boost advertising revenue and
improve the value of the Company's shares!"

"That's wonderful news!" exclaimed Emma. Perhaps she was going to get
more pay. But she wouldn't do any sex and certainly not on television.

"You are a very presentable and responsible young lady, Emma. I've
heard very good reports about you from all at Arouse Yourself. Perhaps at
some future stage we might find a job for you as a presenter on a program -
not one I hasten to add involving sex, as I gather that's not to your
taste, but on Naturist issues. No, I want you to do some confidential
research for me."

"Research?"

"Yes. A job requiring discretion and dedication but most of all
secrecy. Which is why you are perfect. Not even staff of Harlot TV, let
alone our competitors must know of the fact that we will be getting that
extra X. It could ruin everything!"

The Managing Director then went on to explain that the Research would be
to scour around for material from the video companies, foreign countries or
wherever that would be suitable for Four X program scheduling policy, so
that when the extra X was officially awarded all would be in place for
rapid installation. She would not need to come to the office except to use
office facilities when necessary, her expenses would be automatically paid
by the company and her official role was General Programming Research
Assistant.



II

Emma left for home nearly forgetting to put Charlotte's coat on. The
new responsibility would transform her life, she was sure of it. At the
very least, she wouldn't have to leave for work so very early in the
morning from now on. It did mean that she would have to be just that
little bit more careful about how few clothes she wore to work, just as she
had to be coming home.

Her home was a three bedroom flat she shared with two other girls. Her
closest friend, Charlotte, was in the room adjacent to hers, with a
connecting door which was usually left open. Charlotte wasn't a naturist
but she wore no clothes round the home, apparently from respect for Emma.
Indeed, Charlotte had quite good dress sense which was useful for Emma
whenever she needed to borrow a dress or a coat to go shopping or to work.
Charlotte also claimed to be a lesbian, which was strange because she never
once brought a woman friend back home with her. She did, however, come
home with male friends on a not too regular basis and judging by the very
noisy reception she gave them, Emma felt no reason to doubt Charlotte's
passion. Nevertheless, it was a little embarrassing how on the more
regular occasions Charlotte got a little tipsy, she would declare her love
for Emma.

Charlotte worked for the Civil Service, but envied the glamour of Emma's
job. She would put her head on Emma's lap to have her hair stroked and
entice Emma to tell her once again about the famous guests on her programs
and the more sexy television encounters. Emma had a mostly professional
pride in this as in almost all cases the most successful interviews were
those she had most meticulously planned.

The other flat-mate was Harriett who was a presenter on a rival station
to Harlot TV, called Semen South West, (which did not reflect any regional
bias). SSW was a Three X station that had only recently obtained its third
X, so Harriett had needed some re-training. It was no longer sufficient
for her merely to stimulate penises: she now also had to bring them to
ejaculation. It was more important for her to maintain her composure when
she might have to make love with several people in a single half-hour
program. The show she presented was called Swimming Pool Sex, which
generally featured her in the various athletic positions she could adopt in
a swimming pool. This meant that she had to be a very good swimmer as well
as a sexual athlete. The extra X meant it was more important than ever to
heave the penis out of the water at the moment of ejaculation so that all
could be shown to the cameras.

Harriett was obsessed by the art and technique of her trade. She often
watched sex television to learn from other presenters and her conversations
frequently drifted towards what she had done in a recent program or what
she was practising for her next program. She undoubtedly practised: barely
a night went by with Harriett not bringing home a man, often the night
before they were due to perform together on television.

Harriett had one professional worry which was that the extra X might
oblige her to make love to a woman. It was not the professional aspect
that bothered her, but her worries about doing something that as a
heterosexual she wouldn't really enjoy. "Perhaps," she would ask Charlotte
as sweetly as she could, "I could lose some of my fear if I practised with
you." Curiously, for a lesbian with little compunction for sex with men,
Charlotte appeared to have very little interest in accepting this offer.

Emma would be seeing much more of her flatmates, now that her work would
be mostly done at home.

The first batch of videos Emma identified as worth exploring were known
as Naturist Classics, produced by a small European production company. At
present, they were not broadcast on any national television stations but
were nonetheless selling quite respectably in video rentals. As a
naturist, this rather intrigued Emma and she thought that her exploration
should start somewhere where it might coincide with her own interests.

The practise of Naturist Classics was to take a piece of well- known
literature or drama and present it in the nude. This meant naked Wuthering
Heights, naked David Copperfield and naked Passage To India. As Emma soon
found out these were virtually unchanged from the original text, apart from
that the cast wore no clothes, however apparently inappropriate this might
seem even to Emma. The appeal of these videos at first eluded Emma, and
she could see no objection to screening these films on day-time national
television. In the case of Lady Chatterly's Lover, Nana and Tom Jones she
wasn't too surprised that the sex scenes were considerably more explicit,
more prominent in the plot and more frequent than in the original novels,
so perhaps that was why they were destined for specialist tastes. However,
Emma couldn't really recall that there had been sex scenes in the originals
of Jane Eyre, Moby Dick and Anna Karenin, but she accepted the licence for
them to be in the naturist versions.

From a technical perspective, the films were very curiously filmed, but
it took Emma a while to determine why. "It's all in medium to long shot,"
explained Harriett, who had a professional interest in how much was
required to be shown in a shot. Indeed, unlike most television drama, the
scenes were set up so that as much of the main characters torso and
genitalia would be on screen in any frame. Furthermore, it soon became
clear that however innocent the content of the scene the characters always
seemed to be sexually aroused. Mouths pouted unnaturally, the vulva and
nipples were unusually bright and either the men were always half-aroused
or had been stimulated to be so. In any case, their penises never
resembled the shrivelled little things that Emma more often associated with
naturist men, but more like Harlot tv male presenters as they were readying
themselves.

More investigation revealed more of the appeal of Naturist Classics.
Although less than a half of its listing consisted of children's classics,
more than 80% of its sales were of these videos. It seemed unlikely to
Emma that there were that many naturist children, so she took an especial
interest in these films.

Like the adult canon, the children's classics featured all their cast of
mostly children in the nude. Again, the content was ostensibly quite
innocent, if a bit bizarre. A naturist Swallows and Amazons featured the
two gangs of children running around naked, with rather young and
well-developed parents who often seemed more fond of their children than
seemed normal, but not obscenely so. A naturist famous Five again featured
naked children, who if anything were younger than those in Enid Blyton's
books. A naturist Alice in Wonderland featured a naked six year old girl who seemed overawed by the nearly tumescent penises and swelling nipples of
the not very well disguised actors playing the managerie of fantastic
characters.

Emma came to the conclusion that, sadly, the role of Naturist Classics
was ostensibly to provide titillating images of naked children in absurd
situations for those who liked that sort of thing. The lack of overt sex,
at least with children, and the plots which conformed to a certain extent
to their source material, didn't detract at all from the titillation this
was no doubt meant to provide. Emma could see a role for Naturist Classics
on Harlot TV, and certainly the content fell well within the bounds of what
was permitted for a Four X station. The question would be its scheduling.
Mid-afternoon, she decided. The titillatory value was best served by
keeping up the pretence that it was educational entertainment, but it was
necessary to keep an eye on the content to ensure it never got emboldened
to the extent of actually showing child sex, which was totally illegal.

A more difficult question which Emma fortunately didn't need to worry
about with Naturist Classics was where to draw the line on what constitutes
child sex. The affection that a lot of the children seemed unabashed about
expressing to each other, especially in The Railway Children, which hinted
obliquely at incest, kept sufficiently clear of the genitals or the anus
not to be considered sex, but would that have been so true if adults were
equally as affectionate with the children?

"Would you perform in a film like this?" Emma asked Harriett who was
languidly watching Oliver Twist. The scene showed the children in Fagin's
den holding each other tight against the cold, including some little girls,
while a naked Artful Dodger was striding up and down with a half-tumescent
sub-teen penis.

"Why not," Harriett yawned. "At least if you get something wrong on a
film, it can be re-recorded. When you slip up on live television, then
everyone can see!"

Albania had taken a very strange turn in its pornographic industry.
From a period when it would let virtually anything go, Albanian hard core
porn now prohibited the sexual act. However, excretion hadn't been
proscribed and although there wasn't much of a demand for coprophilia,
urination was now used as an acceptable metaphor for sex. Consequently,
Albanian pornography was now known as piss TV, because that is precisely
what there was a lot of.

Although Emma couldn't imagine the appeal herself, she sat herself in
front of a pile of videos from Albania with Charlotte for a second opinion.
Charlotte didn't enjoy pornography at the best of times, but she felt
lonely and needed some attention which Emma indulgently provided. Indeed,
Charlotte scarcely watched the videos at all. She simply rested her head
on Emma's naked lap and purred into her warm crotch. When she got restive
she'd take a hair from Emma's crotch in her teeth and stretch it out until
Emma had to stop her.

Emma couldn't speak a word of Albanian and the videos were neither
subtitled nor dubbed. They had fairly conventional story-lines, neither
better nor worse than those which dominated national pornography. They
were essentially variations on the theme of sexually attracted individuals
coming together and consummating their passion on often the most arbitrary
of excuses and with sufficient aspects of kinkiness to maintain some level
of interest. However, the crucial difference was that, whereas in most
pornographic films the sexual encounters would involve some kind of
stimulation of the genitals and penetration of an orifice, in Albanian
films one or the other would start peeing all over the partner or partners.
There were scenes of women pissing on men's faces, clothes, genitals and
hair, and men doing much the same to women.

Sexual perversions by use of this metaphor were actually more commonly
shown of children pissing on each other, parents pissing on children,
animals being pissed on and so on. In only a minority of films was the
urine licked or ingested by one of the protagonists, but this was clearly a
growing trend as demonstrated in the more recent films.

"Uhh! How awful!" groaned Charlotte in one scene as one man pissed
straight into the mouths of two apparently enthusiastic women who then
proceeded to lick the urine off each other.

"I'm sure it's not real piss," said Emma reassuringly. This wasn't her
real opinion, as she knew too well from working at Harlot TV, the viewers
wanted to be sure that what they were seeing had at one time actually
happened. She wasn't sure what market there could be for piss Television
on Harlot TV, but perhaps repackaged as a "Golden Showers" feature with
some studio participation it could become the basis for something of
interest to viewers. "Is there anything about these films you like?" Emma
solicited of Charlotte.

"I like the language," Charlotte giggled.

"But besides that. I mean could you imagine wanting to watch someone
piss on TV?"

"I can't. But ask Harriett. I'm sure her guests are always pissing in
her swimming pool."

Harriett didn't much like the films either. "There's no physical
element. They just stand apart and piss on each other. And its
unhygienic."

So, Emma thought, a health warning would need to be included, and it
might be difficult getting the ingestion and licking episodes past the
censors for hygienic reasons alone. However, her instinct told her that if
people in Albania were happy to see films about people pissing on each
other, they probably would be at home. Her concept of "Golden Showers" was
developing.

"Perhaps we could get guests to show how far they can piss. Have sort
of pissing games - you know for accuracy and volume. Have a compere who
would always have urine stains on her dress. Show people pissing in public
places. And show snippets of these films in the program."

"Well, I wouldn't want to watch it," asserted Charlotte.

"And I wouldn't dream of appearing on it," said Harriett. "The only
reason you're interested in this, Emma, is that there's no sex in pissing and you don't like sex."

"Yes, sweetness," laughed Charlotte. "You could do the show and still
be a virgin!"

Emma blushed. "I'm sure - you know - well ..."

Charlotte smothered Emma's face with affectionate kisses. "Oh, you're
such a sweetie! I love you! I really love you! Please please let me make
love to you."

"No!" said Emma firmly, pleased to be in a position of power again.

III

Emma was at home more often than she used to be, so she met Harriett
much more frequently than before. Harriett's hours of work were determined
by the demands of her job which varied considerably from both week to week
and from day to day. Generally, Harriett was as likely to be at home
during the day as in the evening or weekend.

Emma returned from visiting a video company she'd been investigating.
This company made sex cartoon films which concentrated on a set of standard
characters with rather exaggerated sexual characteristics. This included a
woman with 80 inch breasts, a man with a twenty-four inch prick, a woman
with buttocks she could bounce on and so on. Sex cartoons were able to
deal with subjects which a Four X station would be able to screen with less
worry than if they contained real people, but Emma was worried about the
suitability of bestiality and child sex displayed in some of them. Her
biggest concern was with the rape cartoons, where violent rape was somehow
disguised as comedy.

When she got home, she was surprised to find Harriett in the living room
sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands and to hear small sobs come
from her. Harriett was normally so cheerful, so this was especially
strange. Emma threw off Charlottes's overcoat, ran over to Harriett and
put her arm round her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" she asked, studying Harriett's tear-streaked face.

"Nothing," sniffed Harriett. "Nothing."

"Don't be silly!" Emma said. "There must be something."

"It's work," Harriett admitted.

"Yes?"

"You know that we've got this Three X rating and my work would have to
change..."

"...Yes."

"...and I've got to make love with a woman, and ... and now I've been
told that I'm going to have to do it soon ... and I've been trying to say
I can't ... but it's my job and I don't want to lose it ... but I don't
know if I can ..."

"But you can make love with a woman can't you?" wondered Emma who'd
watched so much lesbian sex on research videos recently and of course had
also helped to organise such activities for breakfast television.

"Well no!" said Harriett. "I've never done so ... and I don't think I
could ... especially with cameras on me ... I'm just not like that."

"Neither am I," sniffed Emma. "But I'm sure you can make love with a
woman without it meaning very much."

"But it's different when it's with men. You don't know. You don't do
it, but if you enjoy making love you can at least concentrate on that and
not the cameras or anything ... and I'm going to do that soon."

"But Harriett ... I'm sure you can do it," said Emma reassuringly,
hugging Harriett's shoulders. Harriett sniffed, but started weeping again.
"I don't think I can," she sobbed. "I can't! I can't!"

"Can I help in any way?" wondered Emma with a surge of affection for
Harriett.

"In what way? You're not a lesbian!"

"Isn't that better? Perhaps if I'm not a lesbian, it'd be better.
Perhaps we could pretend and perhaps it will be better for you."

"Do you mean make love with you?"

"Of course not!" said Emma, genuinely shocked. "But we could sort of
masturbate together and feel each other. That's not sex. And I certainly
don't want sex. But perhaps it'll make it easier for you when you have to
do it at work."

"Are you serious, Emma?" said Harriett who had stopped crying. "You
don't mind?"

"Well, it won't be sex, will it?"

"Shall I take my clothes off?"

"Of course," smiled Emma, who of course wasn't wearing anything anyway.
Harriett quickly pulled off the nylon shorts and jersey she always wore.
As Harriett removed them, Emma thought with a sudden jump in her breast that this was in fact the first time after all these months of living in
the same flat that she'd ever seen Harriett naked. Even when she had a
bath, she wore a towel around her. It was curious that Harriett must have
got very used to seeing Emma and Charlotte without clothes. Emma had seen
Harriett on television with no clothes making love, but somehow that was
not the same as being in the same room as her. Harriett had a very
athletic body, with medium to small breasts, a taut stomach, and slim
buttocks and thighs.

"What do we do?" asked Emma uneasily.

"Touch ourselves," said Harriett. "Nothing more."

At first this was very awkward, as the two girls touched and stroked
each others' bodies and occasionally kissed each other on the cheek or the
shoulder. Emma put her head on Harriett's stomach and put her tongue into
Harriett's navel. "That's nice," said Harriett appreciatively. More
emboldened, Emma started licking Harriett's skin and Harriett reciprocated.
They continued like this for ever such a long time.

"It's not making love, is it?" wondered Emma.

"We're not lesbians. How can it be?"

"Should we masturbate?"

"Only if it feels right."

"Maybe it does," answered Emma who placed her fingers on her clitoris
and stroked and worried it while kissing and stroking Harriett, who smiled
and watched Emma's fingers moving in and out, up and down. "I've never
seen a woman do that before."

"I've only seen Charlotte do it, but I try not to watch."

Emma and Harriett were playing together for several hours of
masturbating and stroking each other, kissing themselves, but nothing
sexual, no tongue-kissing, nothing like that. They were still
experimenting when Charlotte came home.

She stood at the door of the living room, still in her clothes which
she'd not taken off and watched in growing horror as she established first
what was going on and who the two naked girls were. She then released a
cry of pain and sobbed uncontrollably.

Emma and Harriett hadn't noticed Charlotte arrive and were totally
startled. They stopped what they were doing, and Emma ran over to comfort
Charlotte. "What's wrong?" she asked trying to put her arm round
Charlotte's shoulders.

"You know exactly what's wrong. It's me who loves you. I'm the one
that loves you. I want to make love with you. I love you so much it
hurts. But you make love with Harriett who can make love to as many people
as she likes. I love you so much it hurts."

"But it's not what you think..." Emma tried to explain. "Harriett's
just practising for her television program. Neither of us are lesbian, so
it's not the real thing."

"So, if you're not lesbian it's all right is it?" sobbed Charlotte. "So
if you love someone you are made to feel so frustrated that your heart
aches with a hurt you can't describe. You think about that person every
day, and your mood changes with every smile and rebuke of that person. You
feel a pain that won't go away. But if you don't love someone, you can
have sex with that person all the time."

"Don't be silly, Charlotte," rejoined Harriett. "We're not lovers and
we haven't been making love."

"You're my best friend Charlotte," reassured Emma. "Our friendship
isn't to do with sex. Nor is my friendship with Harriett to do with sex."

"It looks like sex to me!" sobbed Charlotte who ran into her room. She
threw herself on the bed, and fully clothed she stayed there crying and
sobbing all night. Harriett, who tactfully put her clothes back on, and
Emma tried to console her but to no avail. "I'm the one who loves you,"
repeated Charlotte. "Why don't you return my love."

"But Charlotte, I'm not a lesbian. How could I love you except as a
friend?"

A few days later, Emma was again at home wading through a pile of videos in the series of Hollywood Sex Classics. These were essentially old classic films such as Casablanca, Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz and
Citizen Kane which had extra scenes added to them to gain a Four X
certification. This was achieved mostly by computer graphics and it worked
by taking a scene in the film where there was any love interest and
considerably extending it. So in a film such as Gone With The Wind in any
scene where the two main characters might be kissing, the faces and other
features would then be, by computer emulation, superimposed on footage of
some porn actors and actresses indulging in full sex so that it would seem
that Cary Grant, Greta Garbo or Lauren Bacall were the characters doing so.
In Wizard of Oz this produced a scene where Dorothy had full carnal
knowledge of the Scarecrow and of the Wicked Witch of the North. Emma
found all this faintly amusing. It was strange to imagine ET having such a
massive sexual organ and even more strange to see such a young child
apparently enjoying it. It was strange to see Humphrey Bogart having sex
with so many different women. It was perhaps a little shocking to see the
Seven Dwarfs take turns with Snow White or to see Luke Skywalker have anal
intercourse with Princess Leia. However, for practical purposes the issue
was really whether or not the films infringed any copyright laws - though
in most cases the copyrights had expired many years before.

Emma had just got to the part in a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film
where the two pulled off their clothes and fucked in front of some
delighted onlookers when she became aware that Harriett had come in.
"Hello," she greeted, "How's your day been?"

"Nothing special," Harriett answered coming over to Emma and putting her
arms around Emma's shoulders in a friendly way. "What are you watching
now. Not more Tap Dancing with dicks?"

"I'm afraid so," laughed Emma turning her head round. She was a little
surprised to see that Harriett wasn't wearing any clothes, but she supposed
that perhaps with both Charlotte and she being practicing naturists
Harriett had decided to discard her clothes. Neither of the girls had made
any comment about their recent intimacy, although Charlotte was still
fairly upset. Couldn't she realise, wondered Emma, that making love wasn't
the same as being in love? It's one thing, she was sure, to be intimate
with someone and another for it to have any real significance.

"I'm sure Ginger Rogers wasn't as expert as sucking pricks as in this
film," commented Harriett.

"You should see what Dorothy gets up to with the Tin Man," Emma
responded.

"Look at Ginger's cunt. She's a genuine redhead. And I don't mean
what's going in and out of her cunt."

"Is there a difference between pubic hairs and other hairs?" wondered
Emma.

"Well," commented Harriett, "your hair's a sort of mousy colour but your
pubes are just a little bit darker." She put her hand into Emma's thick mass of pubic hair and started pulling and stroking it.

"What about yours?" wondered Emma taking her eyes from Ginger and Fred
fucking and screaming, and looked at Harriett's somewhat thinner bush of
hair.

"Have a good look," smiled Harriett guiding Emma's hand into it. The
two girls stroked each other's groins for a moment until Harriett made bold
to kiss Emma full on the mouth. Emma pushed Harriett off.

"Don't!" she admonished.

Harriett smiled coyly and then said: "Wasn't it fun the other day? I'm
sure it'll help me in my work."

"Haven't you had your lesbian session yet?"

"Not yet. It's been postponed for a couple of weeks - but I can't say
I'm sorry."

"Why's that?"

"Well," smiled Harriett shyly, "you're still my only experience. I'm
just as much a virgin as you."

"Don't be silly."

"Don't be silly yourself!" responded Harriett putting her mouth to
Emma's again. This time Emma didn't push Harriett off, but as the two
girls' intimacy gradually grew Emma wasn't at all sure at which stage the
activity stopped being one of playing and became one where there was a
sense of seriousness and urgency to it. Certainly, she loved holding and
feeling and licking Harriett's very fit and muscular body. She loved the
little freckles around Harriett's nose and the other slightly larger ones
speckled over her shoulders. She loved the feel of Harriett's fingers as
they probed in and out of her cunt. She loved the moistness of the feel of
Harriett's own cunt as her fingers went in and out. "OOh! OOOHHH!
OOOHH!" she gasped as Harriett's tongue worked around her clitoris. She
pushed her tongue deep into Harriett's mouth and relished the taste of her
own cunt on Harriett's tongue. The two of them struggled with their mouths
pushing hard against the other, their fingers frantically working at the
other's clitoris. After Emma's first orgasm, the intensity was so severe
she couldn't imagine it could ever be matched. But it was only moments
later when Emma gave vent to a scream she just couldn't contain. And then
another. And then another. She only became distantly aware that Harriett
was also making rather a lot of noise. And then as their slippery bodies
slid against each other the two gave a great shuddering at the same time
with such intensity that they had to push each other off.

They lay back looking at each other. This isn't real sex, Emma said to
herself. I don't go after women and I'm not in love with Harriett. But
she enjoyed it nonetheless.

"We must do this again," commented Harriett smiling in a way that seemed
both very silly and funny and impossibly endearing.

"How about now?" responded Emma leaning forward and running her tongue
round Harriett's much swollen clitoris.

IV

Although Charlotte considered herself to be essentially a lesbian, this
didn't mean that she didn't enjoy male company. Indeed, it flattered her
when men showed interest in her. So it wasn't too surprising that after a
little persuading from her colleague, Jonathan, Charlotte invited him to
visit for dinner. Jonathan was quite a shy young man, who however thought
he saw a kindred spirit in Charlotte who worked opposite him in the
Approvals section of the department.

Jonathan was quite prepared to see Emma naked when he arrived. And
there, just as Charlotte had warned, was Emma seated in front of a
television watching a video showing men making love to other men. Not his
kind of film, but Jonathan had been warned of the nature of the research
Emma was undertaking so he was less surprised than he might otherwise have
been. Another girl was also watching television who Charlotte introduced
as Harriett. Charlotte was herself rather surprised to find Harriett was
also not wearing any clothes except for what was perhaps the bottom of a
swimming costume. However, Charlotte made no comment as she usually wore
less than that, but she nonetheless felt an acute pang of jealousy.

Emma and Harriett were very civil to Jonathan and asked him questions
about his work and what Charlotte was like to work with, while the hostess
in the meantime was busy in the kitchen preparing a meal for the four of
them. Jonathan occasionally popped into the kitchen to pass a few words
with her. "Your friends seem very affectionate towards you," he commented.
"Affectionate?" wondered Charlotte as she put the potatoes into the
oven.

"Well fond of you," he laughed. "Actually," he commented, "it is a bit
disconcerting your friends not wearing clothes. I don't know where to
look."

"Just be discreet," advised Charlotte, wondering how disconcerted
Jonathan would be in a normally naturist household.

The meal was a success. Charlotte was delighted by the praise her
cooking got from Emma and Harriet. "You ought to have friends round more
often," smiled Emma holding Charlotte's hand tightly in hers. Charlotte
felt a sudden flush of affection for Emma, but with Jonathan and Harriett
there she couldn't kiss her as she wanted to, but she reciprocated Emma's
squeeze and smiled back affectionately.

"Don't worry about the washing up," volunteered Harriett when the last
of the bottle of wine was drunk and the cheese board was bare. Charlotte
smiled, and Jonathan regarded her longingly. Experience told Charlotte
what the look meant, and she had no intention of disappointing him.
Indeed, while Emma and Harriett settled in the kitchen to wash and dry up,
Charlotte took Jonathan to her room to consummate the evening.

Knowing how shy Jonathan was, and in any case itching from the
unaccustomed feel of clothes in the flat (which was always kept warm for
Emma's benefit), Charlotte took the incentive in taking off her clothes.
It took little more persuasion for Jonathan to undress and for her to take
his throbbing member into her palm to hasten the process. His penis
trembled excitedly in her hand, but she didn't want it spurting wasted all
over the carpet. She took her hand away from there, and massaged and
pecked Jonathan about the face, chest and upper thighs. It took all
Charlotte's skill to delay the time when the two fell onto the bed and for
Jonathan to hump away on top of her.

Charlotte always found sex with men slightly amusing - she could never
find it disgusting as she was sure lesbians should do. And she also found
it very exciting. As Emma had often commented, when Charlotte got very
excited she got carried away and would soon be screaming with ecstasy.
Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was Jonathan or perhaps it was the warm
feeling of affection that she'd got from Emma, but she felt exceptionally
passionate today. As she screamed out while Jonathan hammered away, his
tongue in her ear and Charlotte's legs wrapped around his waist, she knew
that it might disturb the neighbours let alone be audible to Emma and
Harriett, but she didn't care.

After an hour or so, Charlotte was quite exhausted, so she wandered
naked out of her bedroom to the kitchen to get some beers out of the
refrigerator. Both of them were now very hot and sticky - rivulets of
perspiration running down their faces and shining on their bellies. Emma
was already in the kitchen making some sandwiches for the following day.
Charlotte was a little embarrassed to encounter Emma with the smell of sex
emanating so strongly from her. The hairs of her vagina were a soggy mess
and she felt a drip of semen flow slowly out from her vagina and down the
inside of her thigh. Unthinkingly, she glanced down at it and when she
looked up she could see that Emma's eyes had also been drawn there.

"I can see you and your friend are having a very pleasant time,"
remarked Emma kindly. "He is staying the night isn't he?"

"Well, if he wants to," Charlotte replied. Emma smiled and leant over
slightly to kiss Emma on the face. Charlotte responded by grabbing Emma
around the shoulders and showering kisses on her face and squeezing her
against her sweaty front. Emma gently pushed Charlotte off.

"Don't be silly, Charlotte," she admonished.

Charlotte felt even more aroused after her encounter with Emma and in
the ensuing lovemaking with Jonathan it was Emma who was foremost in
Charlotte's thoughts as Jonathan thrust away. Charlotte forced Jonathan to
enter her from other positions - including from behind (but not, despite
Jonathan's entreaties, into the anus). Charlotte's screams and cries
echoed into the night and soon there was no more to do than lie back and
recover. Charlotte's crotch ached from the battering it had taken but it
was a pleasant ache that reminded her of all her recent pleasure. She
studied Jonathan's shrivelled penis which was still moist and shiny if no
longer so very appealing. Charlotte tenderly kissed it and stroked
Jonathan's testicles, but carefully so as not to wake him up. He was a
nice boy, Charlotte felt, but her first love was always Emma. Just the
thought of her hug with Emma filled Charlotte with enormous desire.

This aching passion for Emma compelled Charlotte to push open the door
leading to Emma's room. She often did this to relish Emma sleeping
peacefully in her bed. Sometimes, Charlotte would sit for hours by Emma as
she slept just to feel the pleasure of her closeness and the sound of her
breath. She loved the cherubic expression on Emma's face as she breathed.
She loved the opportunity to study what she could see of Emma's naked body,
without being accused of voyeurism. The wonderful breasts, that slender
waist, the hair that fanned out over the sheets and tangled in her nipple.

Emma wasn't in bed, nor did it look like the sheets were disturbed. A
little alarmed, Charlotte wandered through Emma's bedroom and then around
the living room and kitchen. No sign of her there. But she could hear a
little giggle. Charlotte started. Nothing! And then again, just a little
louder followed by a tiny shriek. It was coming from Harriett's bedroom.

Harriett often had lovers staying the night, so this wasn't unusual -
but with Emma not in her bed, Charlotte feared the worst as she softly
pushed open Harriett's bedroom door. The walls of Harriett's room were
covered with posters of sporting heroes and heroines, and it was these that
Charlotte first saw as her eyes became accustomed to the light shining in
from the street lamp through the window. Then, as she feared, she saw Emma
and Harriett together in bed kissing and cuddling each other. No!
Charlotte corrected herself. It was Harriett spreadeagled, arse towards
the door with Emma underneath busily tonguing her vagina. Charlotte
gasped.

Emma looked up, startled. "Oh, it's you!" she said, sounding not too
pleased. "What do you want?"

"I ... I ... just wondered why you weren't in your bed."

"Who could possibly sleep with you and Jonathan making so much noise in
the room next door?"

"But ... but..." Charlotte gasped, the few remaining tatters of her
dream that Emma was in truth reserved for her flying and scattering as
Harriett and Emma readjusted themselves to face her, both naked, both
sweaty, both with the hair on the head and below bedraggled and ragged,
neither looking too amused.

"Charlotte," said Harriett reasonably. "What Emma and I do is not your
business - and besides you're clearly having quite a fun time with your
boyfriend."

"It's not the ... not the same," Charlotte stuttered on the edge of
tears.

"It is," Harriett insisted.

"No, it isn't," contradicted Emma. "You're having sex with a boy. I'm
merely being affectionate with a friend. You have nothing to be jealous
about. So go to bed."

Charlotte sighed. She wouldn't be able to resolve this by crying. She
smiled sadly and defeated as she eased Harriett's door shut.

"Good night," called one of Harriett or Emma as she left.

"Good night," mumbled Charlotte as she returned to her bed which, with
Jonathan in it, seemed too crowded and even uninviting now.

V

After Charlotte's discovery of the two girls together, Harriett and Emma
no longer made even the slightest pretence that there was nothing between
them. Charlotte became accustomed to finding the couple entwined around
each other in the living room and elsewhere, and her sense of betrayal and
frustration gradually receded in the face of a fact that couldn't now be
changed. Charlotte tried to look away from their activities, but her eyes
still strayed towards them, although there was nothing too overtly sexual
in their behaviour. As long as they just cuddle, Charlotte said to
herself, I can still dream. She gazed longingly at Emma, but she felt
constrained from even kissing or hugging her. Contrarily, Emma was much
more affectionate towards Charlotte - stroking her hair, kissing her
cheeks, patting her buttocks - but never in a way that could be construed
as a sexual invitation.

Emma was concerned that Harriett shouldn't lose sight of the original
intention of their intimacy. "Perhaps now," she suggested, "we've
practised enough and we should find out how you actually would perform in
front of the camera."

"But how would we do that?" wondered Harriett from between Emma's legs,
a few loose hairs in her teeth.

"I've got a video recorder and we can ask Charlotte to film us,"
suggested Emma matter-of-factly. And indeed that's what they did next time
they saw Charlotte just as she was returning from work. She was just
pulling off her knickers - always the last item she took off as to her it
marked the moment she progressed from merely undressed to nude. It was not
a welcome suggestion, but there was probably no favour that Emma could ask
that Charlotte wouldn't perform. Even scorned in love, Charlotte reasoned,
she could show how pure and unselfish her love was. She still hoped that
Harriett was merely a phase in Emma's love life and that soon her true love
would return to her, an altogether better candidate.

"I've never used one before," Charlotte answered, hoping this could be
the excuse to avoid the humiliation of filming the woman she loved making
love to another woman. "And certainly not for something like that."

"Don't be silly," said Harriett. "There's nothing to it. It's
auto-focus. All you've got to do is point it in the right direction and
make sure it's rolling."

"Isn't there some art to it?" wondered Charlotte. "The right angles and
so on."

"We're not asking you to make an art film," Emma laughed. "We just want
to see what Harriett's like, so that when she makes love with a woman
professionally it all goes well. No one's going to watch it except
Harriett and me."

"And anyway if you think the cameramen at work are making art, you're
sadly mistaken," laughed Harriett. "All they do is what we're asking you
to do. Just film us making love and point the camera at the interesting
bits."

"The interesting bits?"

"Don't be so naïve!" Emma exclaimed amusedly, leaning over and kissing
Charlotte on the mouth. "I'm sure you'll have no difficulty in working out
which they are."

Emma and Harriett spent about an hour together in the bathroom to
prepare for the filming, mostly soaping themselves in the shower and
ensuring that their bodies were clean and their pubic hairs shining. Emma
was fascinated to find that even Harriett, with her athletic slim body felt
she needed more than just soap to look her best as she adorned make-up over
her nipples and around her crotch. "It actually looks more natural on a
video," she explained, but Emma wasn't persuaded. Her principles of
naturism were too strict to permit using such artifice. She did consent
however to Harriett sucking and pulling on her nipples to ensure that they
were quite erect to start with.

Charlotte practised , in the meantime, by filming around the living room
and then playing the results back on the video player. It was very easy:
technology had certainly come a long way. You just pointed the video recorder at something - say a chair - and it remained in focus as you moved
towards it or away from it. Even in darkened parts of the room the
recorder automatically widened its aperture to ensure that enough light
entered the lens.

"Are you ready?" wondered Emma coming out of the bathroom with a
blow-dried crotch and a radiant expression. Charlotte couldn't help
noticing how very stiff Emma's nipples were: they were normally pert but
not that pert.

Harriett suggested her own bedroom because her bed was the widest and
there was better lighting. "And that's where I'm most relaxed anyway,"
Emma laughed. Charlotte was not amused.

At first the exercise was very clumsy. It was very difficult for Emma
to proceed knowing that Charlotte was filming her every move. She kept
catching glimpses of the video recorder as it panned around her crotch and
her breasts. Charlotte herself was thinking more of her own humiliation in
filming the woman she loved doing the things she wanted to do, and finding
it difficult to keep her mind on the object of the exercise. However, the
more experienced Harriett took everything in command. She kept half an eye
on the camera and Charlotte and occasionally made signs to Charlotte as to
where to point the camera. Emma appreciated how Harriett also took command
of her love-making. Emma admired Harriett's professionalism as she guided
Emma's mouth down to her vagina while stroking Emma's back and gesturing
Charlotte to film Emma's frantic tongue. The skill was not only that of
being able to make love unselfconsciously in front of other people, but of
also maximising the activities for their erotic televisual potential.

Charlotte was able to think as she filmed that perhaps this was not
really Emma she was filming, but just a sex star on the sex videos Emma was
bringing into the flat. Was it real sex? she wondered. She'd sometimes
wondered that when watching these videos. However, as Emma relaxed more
and became more excited by the eroticism of the occasion, it became evident
to Charlotte that this was real sex. Emma emitted gasps and grunts that
increased in frequency and were reciprocated by Harriett. "Oh God! Oh
God!" she yelled from a sudden orgasmic shudder. Charlotte was taken
aback, but she was herself aroused by Emma's arousal. Her thoughts focused
on Emma and almost forgot that it was Harriett who was orchestrating the
pleasure and whose tongue and teeth were working around Emma's vagina.

Almost unconsciously, while holding the video camera in her right hand
her left hand wandered down to her own clitoris which she stroked to the
same rhythm of Emma's orgasmic shudders. She found that her own vagina was
moist. Oh! if only it was me that was giving Emma this pleasure she
sighed.

All too soon for Emma whose body glistened with perspiration, they were
finished, and the lovers lay on their backs in exhaustion. Charlotte was
still filming, but on Harriett's prompting she had receded so that she
could film the two girls together.

"I wonder what it looks like," wondered Harriett signalling that
Charlotte should now stop filming. As the company soon found out, it
didn't have the gloss or sparkle associated with most television sex, and
the video was peculiarly story-less, being just Harriett and Emma groping
together. It was almost an emetic experience for Charlotte to see the two
girls together again just as she had seen them earlier through the camera lens.

"What do you think of our performance?" Emma asked Charlotte kindly as
the action showed Emma's finger working in and out of Harriet's anus.

"I don't think I know what to say," said Charlotte truthfully.

"I still need practice," Harriett stated forcefully. "There's quite a
few things I'm just not happy about. Not," she added, smiling at Emma, "in
terms of your performance, but my own. I think we'll have to repeat the
exercise again."

Charlotte sighed inaudibly. She knew what Harriett's statement meant
for her. However, she watched the rest of the video with the two lovers.
After a while both Emma and Harriett were stroking and rubbing their
vaginas - and remembering her own excitement while filming Charlotte did
the same thing. But she wasn't arousing herself at all. She was wondering
if she could bear to stay and watch the rest of the video, when she heard a
sharp gasp.

Was it that part of the video already? wondered Charlotte watching
again as Harriett's mouth worked around Emma's breasts which was held up in
offering. No, it wasn't - she was sure - the video hadn't even got to the
bit when Harriett had put almost all of her tongue into Emma's vagina. She
turned her head to look at Emma and Harriett, and saw that they had started
making love to each other again.

Charlotte was then in a dilemma, which she could not reconcile. For the
rest of the space of the video she had the choice of watching Emma and
Harriett making love in the flesh or review them again on video.
Eventually, she decided that the only thing she could was leave. She went
to her own bedroom and slumped on her bed. Away from Emma and Harriett she
was now able to imagine herself making love to Emma and that she was the
recipient of Emma's affection. And in this way she furiously masturbated
herself and was eventually sufficiently exhausted to get to sleep and not
reflect too much on her loss.

Although Emma was becoming quite expert in making love, she could almost
be considered to be a virgin - she had only once ever had full penetration
sex and that was not a particularly enjoyable experience. In fact it had
so upset Emma that she had lost interest in making love altogether: but as
a result of her experiments with Harriett she felt sure that the time had
come when she could lose her virginity in a more meaningful way.

Charlotte really didn't see this as a shortcoming in Emma's sex life,
indeed she had become rather used to seeing all the variations of it either
through the camera lens or otherwise. Indeed, Emma and Harriett seemed to
be making love all the time now. Whereas the two girls had previously been
a little discreet, they now showed no compunction in cunnilingus or mutual
masturbation or other such sexual activities when Charlotte was around.
And Harriett continued to insist that Charlotte film the two girls together: an activity which was getting more polished. The videos Charlotte was filming now were still technically poor and had no story content, but Emma had lost her initial shyness and had learnt techniques
from Harriett which made her performance much more interesting to watch.
Charlotte concentrated more on the technical aspects of filming, and
Harriett no longer needed to indicate what views to take.

Charlotte was in fact watching one of these videos when Emma mentioned
her desire to lose her virginity. Emma and Harriett were still glistening
with sweat after the sex in which they had just been indulging and a very
strong post-orgasmic smell emanated from them. "But it's got to be done
properly..." she announced.

"Do you mean," wondered Charlotte, "that you want it filmed?"

"What an interesting idea," commented Harriett.

"No," decided Emma. "I just mean it's got to be right. You know, it's
an important thing and I want it to be something I'll remember with joy."

Charlotte's own first experience with sex hadn't really been that
satisfactory either, so she appreciated what Emma was saying. But then,
when you're a teenager, boys do tend to be unsubtle and clumsy. "What do
you mean properly?. Do you mean we invite a boy round to fuck you?"

"God no!" said Emma with horror. "I could only do it with Harriett."
Charlotte inwardly sighed. "No. I mean Harriett would have to wear one of
those artificial penises, - dildos. I'm sure it'd be fine that way. I
don't want to be impregnated by some disgusting man. And anyway the mere
thought of a man sticking his thing in me is enough to make me feel
unwell."

"But why tell me?" wondered Charlotte, who often wished that Emma wasn't
so open about her sexual relationship. Naturism at home was one thing, she
reasoned although there was always some sexual teasing in that. But
watching the two girls having sex together day and night was entirely
different. Charlotte was very nostalgic for the earlier days when only she
and Emma wore no clothes.

"Because, sweetest," said Emma with a very warm smile, "whatever
Harriett is, you are my best friend. I need you to be there. It's very
important to me." She pulled Charlotte's warm naked body to her own still
slightly damp one and hugged her more tightly than she had ever done
before. She showered kisses all over Charlotte's face. "Please say you
will," she pleaded.

Charlotte was taken aback by the affection. "But what am I to do?" she
gasped, hoping perhaps that she might still have a sexual role to play.
But no, all Emma wanted her to do was to hold her hand.

Emma and Harriett arranged the day on which Emma would lose her
virginity with some care. Harriett went out to choose a dildo with
Charlotte from a shop that sold such things. Charlotte felt uneasy with
Harriett these days, but Harriett was very good at reassuring her. She
explained how much she treasured her relationship with Emma and how
grateful she was for her affection. "She loves you too," she confided to
Charlotte, "but she cherishes her friendship with you too much."

Harriett seemed like a different woman to Charlotte when she was not at
home and undressed. She wore shorts and sweater just as she used to:
looking much more like a sportswoman than a television sex performer.
Charlotte now knew all about Harriett's body and envied her for its
athletic trim. The two girls studied the different dildos in the shop.
There seemed to be a much wider selection of dimensions and designs than
Charlotte had ever expected.

"I imagine Emma will want one that looks as natural as possible,"
commented Harriett picking one up and holding it to Charlotte's face.
"This is about standard size, isn't it?"

It was actually significantly larger than the penises Charlotte
generally saw, but she was aware that Harriett would always be meeting
better endowed men in her trade than would the average woman. Harriett
eased down her shorts and strapped the dildo on over her knickers. "What
do you think?" she wondered, spinning round with the dildo looking almost
like the real thing.

"I'm sure it'll do the job," commented Charlotte, and indeed it was the
one chosen.

The day came and the three girls arranged themselves in Emma's room
(which was not the usual place for making love). Emma lay on her back and
supported her head and shoulders in Charlotte's lap. Charlotte supported
her shoulders and felt a warm sexual tingle as she felt Emma's naked skin
on her crotch and thighs. Oh! if only it was me and not Harriett, she
said to herself, as Harriett, dildo strapped around her otherwise naked
body, lubricated Emma's vagina with her tongue and fingers.

Harriett spent what seemed to Charlotte from her experience of men an
unusually long time stimulating Emma, occasionally stopping to look up at
Emma to gauge her expression. Emma looked lovingly down at Harriett and
sometimes gazed up at Charlotte. Charlotte could see that Emma was a
little nervous so she gave as reassuring a smile as she could.

Eventually, Harriett assessed that Emma was ready. She seemed more than
ready to Charlotte who felt the shuddering in Emma's shoulders and the
whiplash of her hair as it was thrown about in ecstasy. Harriett eased the
dildo into Emma's cunt and the reaction was almost immediate. "Ohhh!
Godd! Go-o-oddd! Uuooaahh!" cried out Emma, shaking herself ecstatically.
She grasped Charlotte's hand and squeezed it as if her life depended on it
while gasping out. Then she screamed out in an aural ejaculation that
frightened Charlotte.

Emma held tightly onto Harriett who rhythmically and rather slowly
thrust her crotch back and forth. Charlotte eased herself back as she was
worried about getting hit by Emma's frantically energetic body. She
watched as the two girls rolled around as close together as they could
joined by a phallic length of plastic. She noticed that Harriett gradually
sped up the thrusting, and Emma's response became faster and more urgent.
She's playing Emma's body like a musical instrument, thought Charlotte.
And then she thought that Harriett was doing very well considering, as she
had told her when they were choosing the dildo, that this was the first
time for her as well in this role.

Eventually, and not a moment too soon for Charlotte who was frankly
rather bored, the two girls finished and Harriett eased the dildo out from
Emma's vagina.

"You're not a virgin anymore," commented Charlotte dryly.

Emma gazed at Charlotte through the damp hair plastered to her sweaty
forehead. Hers was the sweetest face Charlotte had ever seen, and quite
suddenly Charlotte's heart broke. She burst into silent tears in the aura
of Emma's post-orgasmic ecstasy and satisfaction. Emma smiled and let
Charlotte take her body and stroke it with a freedom that had never been
allowed before. She even managed to stroke Emma's pubic hairs, but Emma
guarded her clitoris from her attention. Harriett also lay back exhausted.
It was difficult for Charlotte to assess what Harriett's pleasure had been,
but there was a smile on her face.

"You were wonderful!" suddenly exclaimed Emma falling on top of Harriett
and kissing her again. She wept from passionate love for Harriett.
Charlotte felt very embarrassed, but it didn't surprise her at all when
Emma and Harriett recommenced their love-making. Charlotte silently
detached herself from their company and settled in her bed where she tried
to sleep as best she could with the thumping and screaming emanating all
night from Emma's bed.

Charlotte was quite pleased when Emma told her that she and Harriett
were entertaining a friend for a meal, even though it would mean that true
to her natural modesty she would wear clothes that evening. (Not a
concession that would ever occur to Emma). The main source of pleasure was
that perhaps for one night Charlotte wouldn't be confronted by the naked
bodies of her flatmates writhing about the living-room floor. This
pleasure, however, was replaced by some apprehension when Harriett
explained that the young lady, Josephine, was actually the woman who had
been successfully auditioned for the role of making love to Harriett on
television, but a little relieved when Harriett explained that she'd never
made love to a woman before either.

Her apprehension seemed totally unfounded when Josephine arrived. She
was a tall quite slender woman in a quite constricting white dress and had
her long hair tied up and off her face. Her face was pale and she had blue
cheeks underneath slightly startled eyes. When she smiled she emanated an
air of sweet innocence which seemed almost inappropriate for someone in her
industry, but as she explained it was a thespian rather than a pornographic
career that she really aspired to.

The four girls sat round the table for a meal cooked jointly by Emma and
Harriett and listened as Josephine discussed her stage performances in
repertory and about the difficulties of finding work for an actress even in
the big city. Unusually, everyone but Emma was dressed and looking,
Charlotte thought, just like most groups of girls gathered for a meal
together should look. Indeed, Charlotte found the thought of Emma wearing
clothes as so alien that her nudity seemed far more natural than it might
otherwise be.

After the meal, Emma and Charlotte retreated into the kitchen to wash up
the dishes and Harriett remained with Josephine. Harriett was explaining
to Josephine how she and Emma had practised making love together and how,
to improve their technique, they had encouraged Charlotte to film them
together. The conversation was of such a matter-of-fact tone that
Charlotte wasn't in the slightest bit alarmed. And anyway she had news
that she had been dying all day to impart to Emma and now was the ideal
time.

"I've got the transfer I've been applying for," she announced to Emma.

"Oh how wonderful!" said Emma giving Charlotte a kiss while wiping the
inside of a glass with the tea-towel. "Where to?"

"To this naturist branch in the Civil Service," Charlotte announced, her
sleeves rolled up and soap-suds to her wrists.

"'Naturist' branch?" wondered Emma who'd never heard of such a thing
before.

"Yes," smiled Charlotte triumphantly, "Some branches - especially
unpopular ones like tax, social security and so on - attract staff by
having a naturist policy. That means that staff have the freedom to wear
as few clothes as possible while at work. So now I can work in as few
clothes as I wear at home!"

"That's absolutely marvellous!" exclaimed Emma grabbing Charlotte round
the waist and showering her face with kisses. "Absolutely wonderful! I'm
so happy for you."

Charlotte was delighted with Emma's response. She had been trying for
so long to get this transfer as she had felt so inferior compared to Emma
who could wear nothing at work all day and nobody would think it the oddest
thing at all, while she had to wear smart clothe. Now, she felt, she could
be a real naturist and, perhaps, get the respect from Emma that she felt
was lacking.

When Charlotte and Emma came back into the living room, laughing and
giggling, they found Josephine and Harriett sitting in front of the video watching one of the videos Charlotte had filmed of Harriett and Emma making
love. Harriett was explaining in technical terms some of the sexual
techniques involved in the performance. To Charlotte's ears, it sounded
more like someone explaining golfing techniques rather than how to make
love. Alarmingly for Charlotte, she found that both Harriett and Josephine
were wearing just underwear, which in Josephine's case meant a white silk
slip and knickers and in Harriett's case nothing but black knickers. Not
quite nudity, thought Charlotte.

All that was to change however, as Harriett explained to Emma that
Josephine had watched the videos that Charlotte had filmed and had felt
very nervous about her own lack of sexual experience with other women.
Consequently, they had agreed that it was better for her to practice with
Emma and Harriett. They had been waiting for Emma to return from the
kitchen to ask her if she wouldn't mind participating in some instruction.

At first Emma seemed hesitant, but she looked at Josephine's rather shy
face and the slender body underneath the slip and relented. "We'd better
take all our clothes off then" she announced.

At this prompting Harriett pulled her knickers down to reveal her little
triangular bush of hair, and, somewhat less enthusiastically, Josephine
removed her slip to reveal smallish round breasts with pert pink nipples
and a very tidy patch of pubic hair. She looked at Charlotte pleadingly.
"Are you joining in?" she asked.

"Charlotte doesn't do this sort of thing!" announced Emma, which to
Charlotte's ears sounded very presumptuous, but she didn't feel like
arguing at this juncture. Indeed what she did do, as the girls settled
down in a cross-legged triangle on the well-worn rug in front of the gas
fire, was discreetly retreat to her room without another word.

As soon as her door was shut, Charlotte pulled off her clothes. "That's
the last time I'll ever wear clothes!" she announced to herself with a kind
of determination, knowing full well that it was unlikely that she'd ever be
able to stay true to her own word. She examined her naked reflection in
the mirror. What was wrong with her? she wondered. She was sure she
wasn't unattractive. She was of a less slender frame than Emma and a less
athletic trim than Harriett, but she had an attractive body nonetheless.
She slowly masturbated herself trying to excite herself with thoughts of
making love, but she somehow couldn't get any excitement.

"What the hell!" she announced loudly, standing up and walking out of
her room still naked. Perhaps with Josephine there she would have that
opportunity to show her sexual self that had been so much denied, she
thought. She pushed open the door to the living-room as quietly as she
could. What she saw was a writhing mass of three bodies all intent on
stimulating each others' bodies. Only the odd glimpse of a face and
Charlotte's familiarity with Emma's and Harriett's bodies could distinguish
one body from another. She stood by the door for several minutes feeling
like a trespasser in her own house in the midst of the gasps and pants of
sexual excitement.

Josephine was clearly not as experienced in lesbian love as the other
two girls, but that, if anything, only made her the more attractive in
Charlotte's eyes. Indeed, Charlotte was beginning to feel that same
melting-away feeling she very often felt in Emma's company. As she watched
Josephine, she caught a glimpse of her espying her and for a moment she
froze, enduring her gaze. She flushed, feeling suddenly embarrassed for
being there naked, neither joining in nor being apart but being merely a
voyeuse.

And then she ran off to her bedroom and, although it was earlier than
her usual bed-time, she went straight to bed. She was able to masturbate now, and she did so furiously until she went to sleep, but the image
uppermost in her mind was the vision of Emma and Josephine locked in
passionate embrace.

VI

Charlotte was very anxious on the first day of her new job: not just
because of the anxiety of working with new people and finding new routines,
but also just the concept of working all day with no clothes. She had of
course been shown round the offices before today and knew what to expect.
It was nonsense to say that nudity was compulsory. Not everyone working in
the branch were naturists, although they had to be sympathetic, and even
those who took off their clothes didn't necessarily take them all off.
Despite this, it took little time for the oddness to wear off of being in a
government office surrounded by computer terminals and paper files with
naked people. Her new supervisor made no mention of clothing policy and
only discussed the duties Charlotte would be performing. He was however
totally naked except for a pen dangling over his chest. Undoubtedly the
work was going to be more tedious than that which Charlotte had been doing
previously, but this was the penalty that Charlotte had expected to pay for
the privilege of being a naturist at work.

One of Charlotte's main anxieties was quite simply what clothes to wear
on the way to the office. She spent ages the night before trying on all
combinations of overcoat and jacket. She eventually decided to wear only a
pair of black swimming trucks and a short jacket, but when the morning came
and she prepared herself she actually found herself putting on exactly what
she would normally have worn. As she was just about to leave, she thought
better of it, but only to remove her knickers and bra. "I won't need
these," she said to herself slyly as she felt the dress against her bare
skin.

She gingerly knocked on Harriett's door to say goodbye to Emma, who had
insisted she do this so that she could wish Charlotte good luck. There was
no response, so Charlotte eased open the door to see Emma in bed with
Harriett and also the tanned naked body of a third girl who was in the bed
with them. This had been another in the series of girls Harriett had
started inviting back to practice making love with. The night before, Emma
confided to Charlotte that she'd found Molly a little common for her
tastes, but refreshingly open. She'd not hesitated in getting down to some
serious love-making with Emma and Harriett: the artificial tan of her body
and bleach-blonde hair standing out in contrast to Charlotte's flatmates'
more natural skin colour.

It took Charlotte a few moments to be sure, but Molly was active in
eating Harriett's vagina with Emma beneath exploring Molly's raised vagina with her tongue and fingers. Emma looked up from what she was doing, her
vulva pointing directly towards Charlotte. "Are you off now?" she asked
Charlotte softly.

Charlotte nodded and made to leave through the door. "Don't leave so
fast!" cried Emma who pulled herself up from under Molly who was too
engrossed to disengage herself and ran up to Charlotte. She gave Charlotte
a hug and a kiss. "I hope your day goes well!"

Charlotte's journey was by underground train, and she felt nervous that
somehow people could see that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Other
people probably didn't care, and indeed one girl, probably a secretary, was
quite clearly showing a bare nipple though her very low-cut dress. This
didn't prevent her from feeling self-conscious. Indeed, she was pleased
when she could get out of the train and walk the hundred yards through the
rain and puddles to the office. She stood at the escalator doors after
showing her pass to the doorman, wondering when it would be appropriate for
her to take off her clothes. When the lift arrived, no one was unclothed
there, so she stayed fully clothed until she reached the 6th floor and went
into the reception area.

"Hello, what do you want?" asked a girl at the reception desk who was
wearing no clothes at all that Charlotte could see besides the petite glasses on her nose.

"I'm Charlotte. It's my first day here."

"Charlotte," sniffed the receptionist looking at a list which she held
up in front of her pert breasts whose nipples stood out. "The new girl.
Another naturist, I suppose?"

Charlotte nodded. Although the receptionist was unclothed she didn't
appear very sympathetic to naturism.

"You'll be wanting to know where to leave your clothes then," the
receptionist continued. She stood up and Charlotte could see that she in
fact was not totally naked but wore some very brief shorts and knee-high
boots. She was taken to a room marked Private where there were coats on
hooks and some lockers. "This is your locker," the receptionist said
pointing at one which was open. "You'll have to provide your own padlock
I'm afraid. And you must wear clothes if you leave the premises."

Charlotte felt hopeless as she stood in front of the locker. "Don't you
want to take your clothes off, then?" wondered the receptionist. Charlotte
smiled pleadingly, but received no sympathetic gesture. A little
embarrassed, Charlotte removed her jacket and pulled off the dress to
reveal the naked body underneath. The receptionist sniffed again, but made
no comment.

"Right, I'll take you to Bernard who'll show you your desk," said the
receptionist referring to the supervisor Charlotte had met before.

The rest of the day was spent meeting other members of staff and
learning about her duties. Most of the staff were men and almost all of
these were nudists. The main embarrassment Charlotte felt as she met all
these new men was of avoiding eye-contact with their penises. She
studiously looked up at their faces and reminded herself that as a lesbian men should be the same to her clothed or unclothed.

There were three other women besides Charlotte based at the office.
There was Peggy, the receptionist, who was adamant that she wasn't a
naturist but was nonetheless usually topless and, Charlotte was told, would
frequently wear nothing at all in warm weather. There was Mildred, a late
middle-aged women who had the cracked skin of years of sunbathing and
droopy breasts that flopped over her tight, lined, brown belly. There was
one woman about Charlotte's age, Clarissa, who was plump with a proud round
pair of breasts crowned with nipples the size of Charlotte's fist.

Charlotte's desk faced towards a male colleague, Desmond, who although a
committed naturist almost always wore an open shirt so that he could have
access to a pen at all times. He was also rather shy and had great
difficulty at looking at Charlotte's face, let alone anywhere else on her
body. She looked out on to the street and was pleased to see that there
were no vantage points where anyone could spy on the office. Charlotte had
no intention of being the subject of anyone's voyeurism.

Bernard spelt out the rules pertaining to dress at the office which was
to wear clothes outside of the office and to respect the views of any
member of the public who didn't actively express a willingness to be
interviewed by a naked Civil Servant. A white overcoat of standard issue
was provided in all interview rooms so that staff could be dressed in these
circumstances, but as Bernard assured her, very few people would be coming
to this branch without expecting to meet some naturist staff.

When 5 o'clock came, Charlotte joined the others by their lockers as
they got dressed to go home. Bernard stayed at his desk, as did Desmond
who Charlotte later discovered was very shy of being seen putting his
clothes back on. Clarissa's locker was right next to Charlotte's and she
smiled at Charlotte as she put on just a leather jacket over her otherwise
naked body and pulled on some leather knee-high boots. "You going home by
yourself, love?" she asked.

"Yes," admitted Charlotte doing up her own jacket which more
convincingly hid her smaller beasts than did Clarissa's from which her
breasts were clearly trying to escape.

"My boyfriend's picking me up," Clarissa said, "but perhaps another
night we can go out for a drink after work."

"That would be very nice," Charlotte admitted, who still felt very much
a stranger amongst her colleagues. She was sure Clarissa wasn't a lesbian herself, but that was all for the best. It was Emma who she loved. Her
day had been mostly desk-bound, though she knew that her job would soon
involve meeting the public, of which all she'd seen all day were the people
in the streets when she'd gone out for her lunch-break. She felt sure
then, as she felt now, leaving the office, that everyone could see her
nakedness under her clothes.

There she goes, she imagined them thinking, when the lift stopped on her
floor and she joined the other office staff and executives already in the
lift. You can see she's got no clothes on underneath. She's a filthy
nudist. She spends all day indulging in the perverse pleasure of nudity.
And what's more she's a lesbian. She loves other women. She's a
disgusting, perverted, naked dyke.

And, Charlotte reminded herself with a wince, a lesbian who can't even
have sex with the woman she loves above all else. A woman for whom she'd
sacrifice everything. But a woman who nonetheless denies that she's at all
gay while forever making love to Harriett. And not just Harriett, but any
friend that Harriett brings home with her. Last night it was Molly. A
girl who probably couldn't even spell her own name. Will it be Molly
tonight? Or some other girl.

Her bitter thoughts followed her, and distracted her from the self-
consciousness of her hidden nakedness as she travelled home on the
underground train, with bodies of men and women squeezed right up against
her, supporting herself only by the strap. As she hurried up the stairs to
the surface, she absentmindedly let her breasts fall out of her coat, but
she hurriedly replaced them, sure that everyone had now decided that she
was the worst kind of slut.

It wasn't Molly that Emma was making love to when Charlotte came in. In
fact, Emma and Harriett weren't making love at all, but seemed to just be
talking to a girl that was with them. This girl was quite short - less
than five feet high - and built on a corresponding slender model, with
breasts barely showing as more than discoloured bumps on her breast. Her
skin was very pale, and at first Charlotte was convinced that this girl was
just a school-girl who Harriett had persuaded to strip off. In fact when
the girl turned round and smiled at Charlotte with a sparkle of teeth and
deep dark eyes, it was clear she was actually an oriental woman, probably
in her mid-twenties.

Emma jumped up and ran up to Charlotte. She grasped Charlotte round the
shoulders before she had the chance to take her coat off. "How was your
first day at work?" she asked. "It wasn't too frightful was it?"

"No, no. It was alright. Perfectly alright."

"They were kind to you, were they?" Emma wondered, a look of real
concern as she noticed the bitterness that had set into Charlotte's face.

"Oh yes, they were very nice. I'm just not, you know, just not used to
being nude all day."

"How peculiar," laughed Emma, who was rarely anything but. She showered
Charlotte's face with dry little kisses. "Now can you be a darling and
help us."

"Of course," volunteered Charlotte with no idea what Emma, Harriett and
the oriental girl wanted.

"Meet Susan," said Emma, showing her guest. "She has a problem about
making love."

"Yes," explained Susan, who had a slightly foreign enunciation to her
immaculate English. "All my life I only ever make love when I am being
watched. That is why I work in sex television, because it is the only way
I can have a happy love life. And I want to make love to both Emma and
Harriett..."

"...And both of us want to make love to her," agreed Emma squeezing
Charlotte. "Don't we, Harriett?"

Harriett was holding Susan's shoulders. She gently kissed Susan full on
the mouth to signal assent.

"So please, Charlotte," pleaded Emma, "Can you watch Susan with us? But
don't touch."

And so on Emma's first evening after a day at her new job was spent
watching the three girls make love together. Emma seemed particularly
enthusiastic. More enthusiastic in her passionate love with Susan than
Emma had ever seen with Harriett. Her cries of passion were louder and
fuller than she'd ever heard before. Is it Susan who makes her so
passionate? wondered Charlotte. But she couldn't be sure as Harriett
seemed to be giving her great pleasure too as she nibbled Emma's clitoris
with her teeth, while Susan in turn squeezed her vagina tightly against her
own. Or was it because I'm watching? Perhaps, Charlotte thought, my
presence gives Emma just a bit more pleasure. Perhaps she gets sadistic
pleasure out of my discomfort. Or maybe, and Charlotte was sure this was
the real truth, she thinks I get pleasure from seeing her get pleasure.

However, it was not Emma, but Susan who seemed most aware of Charlotte's
presence. Frequently and from whatever absurd angle it was, with pubic
hair in her mouth or a tongue in her ear or her fingers firmly up Emma's
cunt or even when Harriett forced one of her dildos as far up Susan's anus
as it could go, Susan's broad smile and sparkling gaze seemed directed not
at her lovers but rather at Charlotte. In fact, Charlotte had never been
looked at in such an unambiguously sexual way before. At one stage, Susan
disengaged herself from her two lovers, who continued making love with each
other regardless and suddenly squeezed Charlotte to her tiny breasts and
kissed her passionately on the face, eyes and mouth. And then, just when
Charlotte had become fully appreciative of this act of passion, she pushed
herself back off to rejoin the love-making with what seemed re-invigorated
passion and lust.

The three girls made love for what seemed forever to Charlotte, who
envied them all. Afterwards though, Susan's conversation was held not with
Emma and Harriett, whom she'd enjoyed so passionately, but with Charlotte.
She felt that Susan was blatantly flirting with her, particular as she so
often held Charlotte's hands in her own little hands and traced her fingers
gently over their back. In fact she barely seemed interested in Emma and
Harriett now, who retreated after a while to watch some of the videos that
Emma was still investigating for her television station.

Charlotte soon became aware that Susan's flirting, although meant
sincerely, was not meant as an invitation to sex, (which she discussed
coolly and dispassionately), but as an expression of affection. As Susan
left, putting on a very tight silver jump-suit, she gave Charlotte a long
embrace, hugging her and kissing her on the cheeks. "I must see you
again," Susan insisted. "You must come and visit and watch me making love
to my boyfriend. He is so passionate. And," she added, "we can only make
love when we have visitors watching. Please say yes, so I can make love to
him. He'll love it when such a beautiful girl as you is watching."

Charlotte nodded, and said she would. But in truth, she felt very weary
of all this second-hand love. When would someone make love to her? And
would that person ever be Emma?

VII

"Are you doing anything this evening?" Clarissa asked Charlotte as the
two colleagues prepared to return home after a full day at work. Clarissa
was pulling on a dress which like all her clothes looked awkward over her
full round breasts and buttocks. Charlotte, who had always had more of a
sense of style still found it strange becoming accustomed to wearing less
clothes than she did before. She buttoned up the black silk blouse which
was all she was currently wearing. As it was a warm day, she also had a
pair of loose shorts, which she found more comfortable when not wearing
knickers.

"No, I've got nothing planned," admitted Charlotte, who in fact rather
dreaded going home. Who would Emma and Harriett be making love with
tonight? she wondered.

"In that case I'll take you to the Haworth," announced Clarissa. "It's
a naturist wine bar near here. We can have a drink and a chat."

"Ooh, that'd be a nice idea," Charlotte admitted. It certainly meant
she'd be absolved of acting as a voyeur this evening. "Does it cost
anything to go in?"

"Of course not," Clarissa assured her. "But you must take your clothes
off."

After working all day with no clothes, this seemed quite natural to
Charlotte. In fact, the sight of a man or woman wearing clothes now seemed
almost odd to her. Clarissa led Charlotte down a few quiet back streets in
the town centre to a fairly anonymous street, near a delicatessen and a
shop selling apparently nothing but lamp-shades where there was the sign,
The Haworth, just above a staircase which led down below street level.
Nothing of the wine bar was visible from the street, and in fact it didn't
really seem very inviting. It certainly wasn't the sort of place where
Charlotte would normally choose to go.

Charlotte followed Clarissa down the steps, to a more inviting place
than she'd expected. It was well-lit with subtly attractive decor and the
people inside were indeed wearing no clothes. The large black gentleman at
the door was also naked (or at least what was visible over the counter).
"We'll have to leave our clothes here," Clarissa announced. The two girls undressed and handed their clothes to the gentleman. Charlotte was about
to retrieve her handbag, but Clarissa signalled that it wasn't necessary:
"You buy everything on tab here," she explained.

There weren't that many people in the bar. There was a group of four
men in the corner drinking beers and looking well at ease in their nudity.
They glanced at Charlotte and Clarissa as they entered, but in a fairly
neutral fashion. A man and woman were chatting in the corner and held
their hands together over the table. They had eyes only for each other.
Clarissa went to the bar to be greeted by a bar-girl wearing only a
welcoming smile.

"The same as always, Clarissa?" the bar-girl asked.

"Yes, of course, Emily," Clarissa answered. "And what are you having,
Charlotte?"

"Oh, an orange juice I think," she answered.

"Nothing stronger?" wondered Clarissa quizzically, but this was what
Emily poured into a glass which shone an orange triangle onto her
apple-shaped breasts. She then made a note on a piece of paper of the
purchases.

The girls chose a table which seemed unnecessarily hidden for such a
relatively quiet place. While they chatted about work and colleagues,
Charlotte gazed about the room examining the other customers as they
entered. Clarissa did much the same, but in a decidedly predatory manner.

Charlotte was soon tempted to have a glass of wine, which seemed to go
straight through her, so she soon had to go to the toilet. It was a very
clean toilet, but nonetheless bizarre in that there were no doors in the
cubicles. No need for modesty here, reflected Charlotte as she brushed
through her long hair with her hands.

When Charlotte got back, she found that they were no longer
unaccompanied, as Clarissa was talking apparently animatedly with a young man who was seated on a stool by their table. "Oh hello, Charlotte,"
smiled Clarissa, as she sat down. "Meet ... um ..."

"Edwin," announced the young man, smiling broadly at Charlotte. "I work
in Electricity. Are you in the Civil Service as well?" Charlotte nodded.
"In the same section?" She nodded again. "It must be wonderful not having
to wear clothes all day. Electricity would never countenance it. But I
guess, the Civil Service have got to provide some benefits to counter the
lousy pay."

Edwin sat with the two girls for the rest of the evening which seemed to
go on interminably. Edwin ordered a bottle of wine, which the three shared
between them, with Clarissa drinking the most. Gradually Clarissa became
more intimate with Edwin, and it didn't surprise Charlotte too much to see
her stroking Edwin's penis. "Don't do that!" he laughed, but he neither
removed her hand nor resisted it the swelling of his penis from the
attention. The conversation however essentially more prosaic, and by
concentrating on that, Charlotte just about succeeded in ignoring
Clarissa's blatant teasing.

It was gone eleven when Clarissa announced it was time to go home. "Do
the both of you want to come back for some coffee?" she asked. Charlotte
was feeling slightly tipsy, and assented as she thought a coffee might do
her some good. Edwin didn't hesitate at all.

Clarissa's flat was only five minutes walk from the bar. The three of
them got dressed, and settled their bill with the black gentleman at
reception. Edwin put on a business suit, which seemed very peculiar after
having so long worn nothing over his bronzed naked body. Clarissa's flat
was up a couple of flights of stairs, and had a no-clothes policy like the
bar, as Clarissa announced pushing open her front door, The three of them
removed their clothes again and left them in the hall-way, before entering
the flat proper.

Clarissa didn't live alone in the flat. Her boyfriend was sitting in
front of the television and briefly greeted them as they entered.
Charlotte sat in the living room while Edwin and Clarissa prepared the
coffee. It seemed to take ages to arrive, and Clarissa's boyfriend seemed
far more interested in the television than on chat.

It was the city's only naturist station, Nude Horizon, and like all
naturist stations there were strictly no clothes, but also none of the
explicit sex associated with Emma's station, Harlot TV. Like Harlot,
however, it religiously pursued its preferred subject matter, and was often
just as dull about it. There was probably less sex on Nude Horizon than on
most other television stations, and most intimacy was of a fairly chaste
kind. There were soap operas and documentaries, quiz shows and films just
like on any other station: all totally unexceptional but for the nudity.
Although Charlotte wasn't a great fan of sex television she preferred it to
this.

Nude Horizon was showing a general interest program which was actually
discussing Harlot TV. What a strange coincidence, thought Charlotte,
glancing at Clarissa's boyfriend and wondering if she should say anything
about her loose connection with the station. She decided against it. He
might not approve. The program was discussing the fourth X awarded to
Harlot TV, and the more sexually explicit programs it was now considered
responsible enough to show.

"Of particular interest to our viewers," the television presenter
announced, "is that the guiding hand for much of the new policy, is a
committed naturist, who, amongst other things believes there should be a
more positive attitude towards nudists on sex television."

The program then featured Emma (yes, Emma, my love, my lovely) who was
wearing no clothes as always and looking not at all embarrassed as the
rather flabby middle-aged woman presenter asked her questions.

"For too long on sex television," Emma said in her most polemic style,
"nakedness has been thought of as nothing but a prelude to full sexual
intercourse. But that is of course absolute nonsense."

Emma explained in the few minutes allotted to her, that she would
influence programming to ensure that Harlot tv would have its fourth X
renewed. There would be a new soap opera which would not just present its
cast as simpering sex toys. There would be discussion and chat programs
where the presenter would not be obliged to have sex with the guests. And
yes, there would be a more positive attitude towards naturism. And there
would be an attempt to move away from nudity as titillation, towards nudity
as a rational person's life-style choice.

After the interview with Emma, the presenter addressed some sceptical
comments to the camera, but Charlotte heard none of this as her mind
focused entirely on Emma. On her beauty. And her formidable modest but
assured presence. And on how much she loved her.

"This coffee's taking rather a long time to arrive!" commented
Charlotte.

Without taking his eyes off the feature on naturist cheese factories,
Clarissa's boyfriend commented expressionlessly: "I expect that means I'll
have to sleep in the spare bedroom." The connection seemed fairly odd to
her, so Charlotte, whose mind was still reviewing Emma's television
interview, chose to ignore it.

However, he was right, as Charlotte discovered when Clarissa came in
with two cups of coffee, which Charlotte was displeased to find had two
sugars and not none as she'd asked. "Sorry, we took so long," Clarissa
said smiling in a very peculiar way, her skin shining with an equally
peculiar glisten. "Edwin and I just got carried away in the kitchen." She
looked at her boyfriend. "He's so good, Cyril, you wouldn't believe! That
prick of his just feels so right!" She paused while Cyril continued
watching the television as it reviewed naturism and recent amendments to
Motoring regulations. "You don't mind sleeping in the spare bedroom
tonight, do you, Cyril?"

His eyes continued to focus on the film of a motorcyclist wearing what
was considered the legal minimum quantity of clothes, covering head, chest
and limbs, but left the crotch displayed. "No, of course not Clarrie. I
even prepared it earlier."

"Oh you're such a darling, Cyril!" remarked Clarissa, as she kissed him
full on the mouth. "Edwin's so good!" She turned to Charlotte and took the
hand that wasn't politely holding the cup of coffee she was soon going to
let go cold. "And he wants you to join us, Charlotte. Isn't that
wonderful!"

Charlotte hadn't expected this, and so wasn't sure how to respond. She
gave a little frown, but her thoughts were more on Emma, and the idea of
sex with Edwin and Clarissa just didn't appeal. When would it appeal to
her? Charlotte wondered. Perhaps if she'd had more to drink. "I feel a
bit tired, I'm afraid."

"Oh come on, Charlotte," said Clarissa imploringly. "It's not every day
you get a chance at this kind of fun."

That was true, reflected Charlotte, but it was every day she got to
witness it. But, as she also thought, Clarissa wasn't gay and Charlotte
was, after all, a lesbian. She shook her head shyly.

"OK," said Clarissa, clearly disappointed. "Well, I hope you don't mind
if I go off now and enjoy myself with Edwin." Then she raised herself up,
and left Edwin and Charlotte to watch a commercial break featuring products
designed for the naturist market, such as sun tan lotion, creams for sore
crotches and privacy devices.

Charlotte continued watching television with Cyril, who made no comment,
for what she judged as a polite length of time. After the commercial
break, there was a naturist situation comedy, set on a naturist newspaper.
The humour was, if anything, even less funny than that in most situation
comedies, and the bizarre aspect of newspaper people wandering about in the
nude soon palled on her. "I must get going now," she announced.

"Oh yes," said Cyril, looking up at her, as she picked up her virtually
untouched cup of coffee. "Well, it's been very nice having you visit.
Please come again." He smiled in a reassuring way, that somehow compensated
for much of his previous silence, and then his eyes returned to a situation
where one of the characters had spilt drink down her breasts, and made the
comment that at least she didn't have to worry about a dry-cleaning bill.

Charlotte found the kitchen, and poured the coffee down the sink. Then
as she wandered back past the living room to the front door she saw that
Clarissa's bedroom was wide open and could see Edwin fucking away inside
her in a room otherwise remarkable only for its pink and cream decor.
Edwin's back was to her, but Clarissa was mounted in such a position he
could easily see Charlotte going by.

"Are you coming to join us after all?" asked Clarissa in a slightly
breathless way as Edwin thrust in and out of her, her breasts flopping
backwards and forwards to the same rhythm. Charlotte sadly shook her head.
"No?" said Clarissa, regretfully. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then."

Charlotte left early enough to be able to catch an underground train
home, and was soon through the front door, and into the flat. Off came her
clothes again. She now viewed them more or less as encumbrances to be worn
between rather than at places. The flat was very quiet, and, as Charlotte
discreetly verified, Harriett and Emma were sleeping together in Harriett's
bed with no guests. She went to the bathroom and while sitting on the
toilet, feeling the warm rush of urine splash up from the porcelain onto
her thighs, she reflected that perhaps tonight had been one night when
she'd have felt more comfortable staying at home.

However, this view was shattered when with the smell of toothpaste still
lingering in her mouth, Charlotte pushed open the door of her bedroom and
found that it was not empty. She turned on the light and woke up the small
white figure of Susan, lying naked in a huddled figure under the sheets.

"Oh Charlotte!" Susan cried in a tone of affection. "At last you're
back!"

Charlotte certainly hadn't expected Susan to be there. She'd become an
occasional visitor to the flat, and Charlotte had become rather accustomed
to watching Susan make love to Emma and Harriett, and on one occasion to
Molly, who had been visiting at the same time. She'd taken up the habit of
arriving unannounced and assuming that there'd always be sex available,
which rather annoyed Harriett, who liked her life better organised.

"What are you doing in my bed?" wondered Charlotte.

"Because I've been waiting for you," smiled Susan seductively. She put
her arms out and held Charlotte's hands in hers'. "And," she added with an
unusually coy grin, "because I love you."

This rather shocked Charlotte, who had never made love to Susan, though
she was very aware that although she got virtually no sexual attention when
Susan visited she got almost all her non-sexual attention. "Do you want to
make love to me?" asked Charlotte wearily, not sure if this was the
opportunity for the love affair she needed after being so decidedly
rejected by Emma, or if this was just a nuisance she could do well without.
"Heavens, no!" exclaimed Susan. "No, I love you too much for that. I
just want to be with you. I want to sleep in the same bed as you. I want
to feel your tender body near mine. Feel your breath on mine. Have you
watching me make love to my boyfriend, to Emma, to Harriett, whoever."

"But not actually make love with me?" wondered Charlotte.

Susan smiled. "I feel so fulfilled when I feel you watching me. When I
made love to Emma this evening with only Harriett watching, I felt so
empty. I know Emma enjoyed it. She really loves my body." Charlotte
winced, but she knew it was true. Perhaps Harriett's annoyance with Susan
was also because she seemed to give Emma more pleasure than anyone else.
"Emma was so passionate. And aggressive. Look at the bruises." She
emerged from the sheets and pointed at blue and slightly red patches of
skin around her lower body. "And the bite marks," she added indicating her
little breasts and just above her crotch. "And look at the blood!" she
added, pulling herself out of the bed, turning round to face her bottom to
Charlotte, and opening her buttocks to show her anus. And indeed,
Charlotte could just about make out patches of dried blood attached to the
hairs around her anus. "Emma just goes wild. She just doesn't care what
she does to my body," Susan smiled. "But it's you I love."

"And it's Emma I love!" exclaimed Charlotte who suddenly burst into
tears and threw herself on the bed.

Whatever it was that Susan expected to do that evening it probably
wasn't what she in fact did do: which was to comfort Charlotte as she cried
through the night, talking about her love for Emma, her jealousy of
Harriett, the way she felt neglected when so many women could make love to
Emma but not her, the way she felt like just an appendage to the goings on
in the flat. "It just fills me with pain to think of you and Emma making
love together. With Emma loving you and not me. It was so much better
before Emma discovered sex!"

"I thought you enjoyed watching people make love," commented Susan sadly
- herself disappointed. "That's why I was convinced we'd make the perfect
couple. I thought I would fuck and you would watch and maybe masturbate.
And then we would be just friends and love each other - as I love you. And
I would be fulfilled. And I thought you would be fulfilled too."

"No," sniffed Charlotte, holding Susan's slim shoulders to her chest.
"No that's not what I want. Not at all."

VIII

When Charlotte returned from work and saw the two girls writhing about
entwined together on the carpet in front of a sex video the television, she
at first assumed that it was Emma and Harriett. After all, when only two
women were making love in the flat it was usually only those two. When
that happened, she usually hid herself in the kitchen to prepare some
dinner, only venturing out when she judged the two had exhausted
themselves. However, as Charlotte reflected, it couldn't be Harriett having
sex with Emma, as it was only last night that she and Emma and a few of
Harriett's other friends had seen her off at the airport. Harriett had
started working on a new television series which involved her being filmed
making love in exotic parts of the world. Her first destination was
Cambodia, at one of its premier luxury holiday resorts. From all accounts
this was a fairly demanding job involving group sex and the opportunity to
practice her newly acquired lesbian skills.

No, as Charlotte soon became aware, the woman who was giving Emma such
obvious pleasure was Penelope, a friend of Harriett's who'd visited several
times before. penelope was a very skinny girl whose breasts were almost
all nipple and whose groin was slightly hollowed out. Charlotte could
almost see the bone of her buttocks through the flesh as it pumped in tune
to Emma's cunnilingus.

Penelope's flushed face emerged from between Emma's legs, her lips raw
and red from exertion. She saw Charlotte and smiled welcomingly before
returning to Emma's crotch. Emma had reason to celebrate. She had
finished her research for Harlot tv and made her recommendations of what
programs to buy and which to emulate just in time for the station to
receive its fourth X. This had been very fortuitous timing, because she
had now become the default spokesperson for the now more responsible
station, which was even now in the throes of renaming itself in a way which
better reflected its new status.

Emma had been interviewed on the countless manifestations of the media,
and her appearance as a serious woman with an uncompromising policy of
naturism had acted as a very strong advertisement for the station. She had
been interviewed on mainline television, national newspapers, several
magazines and innumerable organs of more specialist interest in sex
entertainment. She had now been seen by more people than had ever watched
the station, though in some cases she'd only been filmed or photographed
from the waist up. In one or two instances, including a television station
which claimed the moral high ground, she could only be seen from the
shoulders up. In all her interviews she was free to express her own views
about the role of sex television and of naturism as a philosophy of life,
and indeed she got the distinct impression from her employers that the more
polemical her views the more they were appreciated.

Charlotte smiled weakly at penelope and then shyly made her way into the
kitchen to busy herself over the cooker boiling vegetables and unfreezing a
pre-prepared meal. She sat on the kitchen stool waiting for the food to be
ready, thinking about her own rôle in the changes that had taken place.
While she was there, penelope came in, still naked and reeking of the
shared sweat of her own body and Emma's. She sat down on another stool and
chatted to Charlotte about her own job which was not in the sex media,
although she aspired to it, but as a clerk for a large supermarket chain.

"Why is it you never make love with Emma and Harriett?" she asked
suddenly. "I've asked Emma and I know it's not because you don't find
women unattractive."

This question unbalanced Charlotte. Why indeed had she never been
involved? It just hadn't happened. That was all. She didn't know why
really, and she certainly envied everyone else who'd made love to Emma.
Charlotte shook her head sadly.

penelope stood up from her stool and put her naked arms around
Charlotte's naked body. Charlotte felt the heat from her skin before it
touched her, and almost burnt her. "Oh! You poor dear!" simpered penelope kissing Charlotte tenderly on the face. Then, (Charlotte wasn't too sure
how), she and penelope fell to kissing full on the mouth, their tongues
actively entwined. Charlotte's tongue trailed round Penelope's teeth and
her throat felt the thick mass of Penelope's tongue deep inside. Then,
Penelope's hands gripped into her buttocks and Charlotte shyly encompassed
her slender bony waist.

This didn't last for long, when penelope announced she had to return to
Emma - and in any case Charlotte's food was ready. penelope left Charlotte
alone with her vegetables and thoughts. She felt excited by the attention
she'd just received, but she also felt peculiarly guilty of a kind of
disloyalty to Emma.

For the rest of the evening, Charlotte sat in her bedroom reading a
novel she'd recently bought, frightened as always of going into the living
room where she might perhaps be invited to film the two girls making love
or, as with Susan, just to watch in a rage of envy. The hours passed, with
Charlotte feeling somewhat disorientated from the affection penelope had
expressed, until it seemed late enough for her to go to bed. She wandered
to the bathroom to clean her teeth, and knew she wouldn't meet either of
the girls there, as she could hear the familiar rocking of Emma's bed.

Charlotte returned to bed, and pulled the sheet over her naked body. As
so often, she gently stroked her body as she settled down, asking it if it
was interested in masturbation. Although clearly excited, her body wasn't
going to be satisfied by anything like that, so Charlotte rolled over on
her side and faced the wall.

Several minutes later, Charlotte heard her bedroom door open, and then a
body tiptoe silently across the room towards her bed. Perhaps she'd been
secretly expecting it, but she wasn't too surprised when she was joined by
Penelope's skinny and smelly body, still moist from sex. And it wasn't at
all long until she found herself rolling around and writhing with her
incredibly hot and bony body. As she pulled at Penelope's long thin nipple
in her teeth, Charlotte smelt Emma's own body emanating amongst Penelope's
own smells. Well, she thought, if you can't experience Emma's body
first-hand, it was probably better to experience it second-hand.

While Penelope's expert fingers lubricated Charlotte's cunt, she was
considering that, yes!, this was the first time with a woman. She'd always
considered herself a lesbian, but one who'd always loved women from a
distance. And now, as Penelope's tongue descended down her body to join
her exploring fingers at the vagina, she was now to know what it was really
like. In some ways it was like making love with a man, but the smells were
different, the body was different and the expectations were different.

"So that's where you are!" Charlotte suddenly heard. She started and
withdrew her face from the buttock she'd been licking while supporting
herself on Penelope's legs. "This is being really very deceitful!"

"Sorry, dearest?" wondered penelope who jerked her head out of
Charlotte's pubic hair to look directly at Emma who was standing by the
open door, and although only her silhouette could be seen was almost
certainly frowning.

"I've always thought I was honest and open with you," Emma continued
crossly, "but then you steal my lovers from my bed. Why couldn't you have
just asked and joined in in the normal way, instead of sneaking off with
them behind my back."

"Don't worry, Emma my love," penelope apologised, "I'll come straight
back to bed with you." She disentangled herself from Charlotte's red hot
body, which was burning as much with humiliation as with lust. She let
herself out of Charlotte's room, pausing only to peck Emma on the cheek as
she went out.

"So, this is how my best friend treats me!" exclaimed Emma bitterly.
"How could you do it! How could you be so ... so ... underhand and
deceitful!" She turned round abruptly and left Charlotte's room leaving
only the memory of her departing bum for Charlotte to masturbate furiously
to.

IX

Every so often Charlotte was required to be on duty to meet the public:
usually just to answer their rather technical questions on tax status.
There was a policy that interviewees should state whether or not they would
be embarrassed by being interviewed by someone unclothed, but it was
generally only a small minority of rather elderly clients who preferred not
to. Ironically, it was those who were least enthusiastic about being
interviewed by a naked woman that Charlotte felt least reserved about being
naked with. She had adopted the policy of wearing the white coat provided
when interviewing men and it was only for women and fairly asexual men that
she would remove it.

Charlotte adopted her usual policy for interviewing Miss J. Taylor by
preparing her notes but not bothering with the white coat. Miss Taylor was
an actress concerned about a rebate that she felt was due her after a
period of three months in a high street clothes shop at a lower rate of pay
than for the other nine months of the tax year. It was only when Charlotte
entered the interview booth that she realised that Miss Taylor was the
Josephine she'd only met the once at her flat. She was wearing a prim
white blouse with a silk black scarf and her hair was kept it in place by
an ornate hair-clip.

It was an embarrassed start to the interview, but Charlotte soon relaxed
and, after giving Josephine the required forms and explaining the
procedures to her, they were able to chat about more general matters.
Josephine was auditioning for several television plays, and her agent was
very optimistic about her chances in at least one of these. Most of her
recent work had been in commercials: and she'd been in enough of those to
no longer need to work in Maurice's (Gentleman Outfitters) for a while.t
The commercials had been of a generally saucy nature, which seemed a little
odd when the products were for such things as detergent, formica furniture
and road safety.

The interview seemed so brief, but in fact when Josephine had left
they'd been talking for nearly an hour and a half. Charlotte arranged to
meet Josephine for a meal later that week, which Josephine would cook. "I
just love cooking!" she said. At first Charlotte suggested certain clubs
and wine bars that she'd been to with Clarissa. "Oh, I don't like the
sound of the Haworth!" Josephine exclaimed. "It's a naturist singles bar,
isn't it?" Charlotte couldn't really argue with the description, but she
felt it strange that someone like Charlotte who had become accustomed to
making love for the camera would be so prudish about taking her clothes off
in a place like that. Josephine admitted that she'd enjoyed her visit to
Charlotte's flat, but she hadn't felt like going again. "It was almost
like going to an audition," she remarked. "Even though Emma and Harriett
are such marvellous company."

Charlotte watched Josephine with a feeling of elevation, curiously happy
with herself and the world. That Josephine seemed only interested in her
as a friend was perhaps as elating as anything else. Emma was not the Emma
that Charlotte used to love so deeply: however much she still craved for
her.

When Charlotte went home on the underground she felt she was on a cloud.
She had a brief drink with Clarissa at a small wine bar near the office
(not a naturist one) and found it difficult to even pretend to be
interested in Clarissa's conversation which, as always, concentrated on her
sexual encounters and how her boyfriend, despite being so wonderful, didn't
really understand her. When she ascended to the open air and walked
through the suburban streets to her flat she was propelled by thoughts that
took her past her flat and forced her to retrace her steps.

When she entered the flat, took off her clothes and announced her
arrival, she was surprised to see Emma run towards her rather solicitously.
Emma grasped her round the shoulders and hugged her against her chest.
"Can you forgive me?" she asked.

"Sorry?"

"After how snotty I was last night when I saw you with Penelope! I
don't know what got into me! I must have been deranged! It must be with
Harriett away. I don't know! I shouldn't have been like that! Of course
you should feel free to make love with penelope and whoever else you like!
I shouldn't be so selfish and get in the way of what you want. How can you
ever forgive me?"

"That's alright! I'd almost forgotten ..."

Emma hurried Charlotte along with her into the living room, and
Charlotte was very conscious of a very firm grip around her waist. "I've
chatted with penelope about it. She says I was just jealous. I think it's
worse than that. I just don't think of your needs at all. While Harriett
and I have been making love, I've just not thought of you (and a professed
lesbian too!) having the same needs. But Penelope's here."

The two girls entered Emma's bedroom and there indeed lying on her bed
was penelope who was, however, still dressed in the rather plain clothes
she wore to her supermarket office. penelope looked up shyly and, it
seemed to Charlotte, with some embarrassment as well. What had Emma and
Penelope been talking about?

"So," announced Emma, emphasising her statement with a pause, "if the
two of you would like to make love I'll stay out of your way." And with
that Emma disappeared and left Charlotte with Penelope.

What followed was certainly not passion. More like duty performed for
Emma's benefit. After a short chat, where both Charlotte and penelope skirted discreetly around any subject which could be construed about sex,
Penelope shyly removed her clothes to reveal her pale boney frame. As the
two girls entwined and went through the motions of what had been more
successful the day before, Charlotte felt that perhaps their earlier
conversation on the new robotic tills and the bar-codes on the new notes
had, after all, been more satisfying. And this was only her second time of
making love to a woman. What she'd always wanted! What, as a lesbian,
should be the pinnacle of sexual activity!

penelope must have felt much the same, because after only half an hour
of groping, fumbling and rolling around together, they separated and,
almost unconsciously, she started putting her clothes back on. She
certainly wasn't as hot after this as she'd been the previous night.

Emma was surprised to see Charlotte and penelope emerge after such a
short time. She was watching a film which was thankfully free of all the
sex she'd had to watch the last few months, and she'd expected to be able
to see that and perhaps another before the two lovers emerged. She was
also slightly put off to see penelope in her clothes again.

"Didn't you make love?" she asked.

"Oh yes! We did!" said penelope with a look of enthusiasm.

"And did you enjoy it?" addressing Charlotte quizzically.

"Yes. It was very nice," said Charlotte in a way that left Emma more
questions unanswered than she'd had before.

"Oh, that's alright then," said Emma conscious that further questioning
was probably not in order. "Shall I wind back this film. It's very good."
"What is it?" asked Charlotte eagerly.

Emma looked at the video sleeve. "Mary Barton. It's based on a book I
believe. And it's not a sex video. I promise you!"

It was a more relaxed Emma that Charlotte met in the kitchen before
leaving for work. It was she, and not Charlotte, who had spent the night
making love with Penelope, which, despite a certain element of envy, was
actually a relief to Charlotte. Emma kissed Charlotte on the lips with
Penelope's arms around her waist and one of Penelope's fingers lightly
stroking her clitoris. penelope then followed suit by giving Charlotte a
somewhat more passionate kiss: her tongue skimming around Charlotte's teeth
and the roof of her mouth.

Charlotte left for work feeling more than a little anxious about her
evening with Josephine. She'd not felt such an anxiety about having an
evening out with someone since she'd first been invited out for a date as a
school-girl. An anxiety that proved to be well-founded when all the boy seemed interested in was getting his hands inside her clothes and pulling
her knickers down. She just didn't care enough about him to even bother
stopping him. Her day at work seemed to drag on. Perhaps it was just that
all the most tedious end of the month accounting happened on the same day.
Or perhaps it was the way that the clock was going so much slower than
usual.

There was a temp on reception who took naturist license a little further
than most by straying out of the office with no clothes and down to the
building's foyer. This was the only incident of an otherwise tedious day,
and by no means the first occasion that a temp had misinterpreted
departmental policy for sexual license or overt exhibitionism. When the
day ended, Charlotte found herself sitting next to this temp by the
bus-stop waiting for the bus which would go to Josephine's flat in a seedy
but bohemian part of town distinguished principally by having no
underground stations. She was going in the same direction, so Charlotte
found herself doomed to nearly an hour of chatter about her boyfriends, her
holidays abroad in tourist traps like Croatia, Albania and Libya, and how
much she thought of herself like a naturist like Charlotte. "It must be
great not wearing clothes all day!" she exclaimed rather loudly.

Charlotte didn't really like the thought of everyone on the 73 bus
imagining her naked, so she was quite relieved when she left the bus and
followed the directions attached to a piece of paper in her A-Z and could
wander about fairly sure that no one was aware she was a naturist. She
wore rather more clothes than usual for a warm day, sure that Josephine
would disapprove if she'd turned up even topless, and felt rather virtuous
for it as she passed others in the street showing rather more flesh than
she. Men, she noticed, always got away with flaunting rather more flesh
than women, as she passed cars being washed in the street and workmen
sitting on a wall.

Josephine's flat was a tiny affair in a large rambling building, in
obvious need of renovation. The door was almost bare of paint and an
upstairs window was covered with cardboard to replace the glass. It was
Josephine, though, who Charlotte had come to see, and her heart visibly
thundered as the door came ajar and Josephine appeared. "I'm so glad you
could make it," she said smiling broadly. "It's almost ready - the
ratatouille that is."

The two girls went upstairs to Josephine's flat which was full of the
aroma of casserole and peppers. It was also full of cushions which covered
most of the floor and most of a rather battered-looking sofa. The other
thing it was full of were photographs and posters, all of a thespian
nature, obscuring the rather dull and faded wallpaper. "You can take your
clothes off now if you like," announced Josephine kindly.

"Sorry, I'm ..." began Charlotte, who had been convinced that she'd be
spending the evening in the clothes she was wearing. The experience would
even be quite a novel one. She now associated clothes as the rather clumsy
things she was obliged to wear to keep her modesty when travelling to work
or being in the public eye. But the proposition of spending an evening
naked with a fully clothed woman itself seemed as peculiar as not being
naked.

"Don't be silly!" smiled Josephine. "I know you're a naturist, and it
doesn't embarrass me at all." This was quite a different image than the one
projected by her reserved selection of clothes, which even as a concession
to the warm weather (being a pair of white shorts and blouse) seemed quite
prim. However, Charlotte couldn't help feeling that the subject having
been broached it would be rude to decline the offer, so she stripped off
and laid her clothes neatly in a pile in the tiny hallway.

The meal Josephine prepared was truly sumptuous. Not large in quantity,
but certainly so in taste. She was a witty woman, which was assisted by
her ability as an actress to entertain Charlotte in a way that soon had her
gasping for breath between gales of laughter. Her life as an actress had
certainly involved quite a few misadventures, and meeting some very
interesting people. Charlotte was no expert on the theatre or cinema but
she knew at least the names of many of the people mentioned in Josephine's
anecdotes. After the meal, the two girls sat together amongst the cushions
and the odd fluffy toy while Josephine flicked through a photograph album
of stills from plays, films and advertisements she'd been in.

The great majority of her performances had involved her in performing
naked and often in full penetration sex. The photographs Josephine showed
was almost like a sequence of black-and-white and colour pages from a
pornographic magazine. There were shots of her being buggered, of having
semen squirted onto her face, of penises either fully in her mouth or on
the edge of it, of objects as well as penises up her vagina, and shots of
her on stage with more long-distant versions of the same kind of activity.
Even many of her stills for television commercials or magazine
advertisements involved some quite explicit sexual act.

"How can you make love in front of the camera?" wondered Charlotte.

"It's just a performance," Josephine admitted, looking ludicrously
modest in the flesh compared to her photographic record. "You learn your
lines and perform to the best of your ability. And it's not the camera I
perform to. It's the audience that may be looking through that camera.
That takes significantly more skill!" She smiled warmly at Charlotte. "But
it takes a little bit more than just play-acting to perform sex
successfully. So, I was pretty grateful to the assistance that Emma and
Harriett gave me to learn lesbian love. I was able to sail through the
auditions ..."

"Auditions?"

"Well, they've got to be sure of how well you perform... I sailed
through the auditions to get a part in the last film I was in where I had
to make love to several women. Not just men, in this case. And here's the
proof!" She proudly showed a few photographs which showed her having very
passionate sex with two women: one of whom was black and had a large pink
dildo incongruously strapped round her waist. "That part got me more money
than any part I'd played in a film before."

As the evening progressed, and the two girls sipped the white wine that
Charlotte had brought with her, it seemed natural for Charlotte to miss the
last bus and stay semi-slumped on the cushions on Josephine's floor. It
also seemed natural when Josephine slipped off her clothes, in a practised
and unembarrassed gesture that Charlotte for all her professed naturism was
not really capable of. The two girls soon lapsed into a kind of
contemplative silence, while a Compact Disc of a mid-twentieth century
string quartet played in the background, their arms around each other, and
Charlotte blissfully happy with the warmth of Josephine's flesh against
hers.

And it didn't seem strange when the two girls drifted off to bed
together and made the tender sort of love that Charlotte had always dreamed
of making with Emma. No penetration. No toys. Not even an attempt at an
orgasm. Just lying together exploring each other's body with their eyes,
hands and tongues. As Charlotte looked deep into Josephine's beautiful
large eyes her body and heart melted like ice-cream on a hot summer's day.
Her love for Josephine choked her, and the only thing she could do was
allow a tear to gently loosen itself from her eye and onto her cheek. She
could only hope that Josephine felt the same way. But she was sure. Oh so
sure! That Josephine did.

X

Emma's new role in Harlot tv took her out of the studio background and
into active involvement in the television station's output, and, in
recognition of her advocacy of the station, she was promoted to the title
of Executive Producer. She was now involved in the executive
decision-making activities of many of the station's new programmes, in
particular those which she had recommended on the basis of her research.

She had also been given a company car, - a luxury which she didn't
really need in a city with good public transport. But she was very
grateful for not having to travel to work by underground and having to
dress up for the occasion. Now she was able to take her nudity with her to
the garage attached to the flat, along the slow-moving traffic where she
avoided the voyeuristic glances of other commuters, and from the television
station's underground station to the studio. All she ever needed to wear
were a pair of sandals to protect her feet from rubbing on the pedals.

Much of her work was involved in the production of St. Denis Road, a
soap opera that Emma had suggested to the board on the basis of the
statistics she'd gathered on the international sales of sex programmes.
She'd ascertained that sex soap operas were always initially quite
expensive to set up, but that those which reached a certain standard found
a ready and profitable international market. She also made suggestions on
the structure of the programmes to permit efficient editing to meet
different standards for different stations and indeed different countries.
In many cases, this might involve shooting different versions of the same
scene.

The suggested method was that certain regular parts of the programme
would consist of sex scenes which could be defended as integral to the
story (so that Harlot tv could fulfil the conditions of its 4X status).
However, the filming of these scenes would be designed such that
particularly explicit scenes could be removed in their entirety so that an
edited version of the scene could be broacast without affecting the series'
continuity. Furthermore, to ensure that the soap opera remained
interesting even after the total removal of penetration, semen, oral and
anal shots, it was necessary to have sufficient soft core titillation
between such scenes. The general atmosphere of the soap opera was
therefore of rather coy and playful scenes: where for instance water would
be spilt on a woman's chest and thereby requiring removal of her top, or a
penis would be caught in a fly, interspersed by much harder scenes which
could contain urination in the mouth, anal sex or double entry but could be
removed without too much plot discontinuity.

One innovation, which quite pleased Emma was to introduce children to
the cast, so that the programmes could attract an audience of special
interest without actually requiring them to do anything illegal. The
justification was that as the soap opera was intended as an account of a
normal suburban street, there would necessarily be children. As long as
they were never touched by an adult and there was no hint of sexual
activity, the children could be filmed having a bath, going to bed and
sitting on the beach where nudity was relatively natural. Emma was
convinced that the market for such coy child erotica would maximise the
soap opera's attraction and thereby its sales.

There were about half a dozen children in the series, from about eight
to fifteen years of age. The fifteen year old boy and his fourteen year
old girlfriend were permitted to kiss and even be filmed naked together,
but the letter of the law was strictly observed. No close-up crotch shots.
No touching of breasts or genitals. No explicit discussion of sex. There
were two boys of eight and thirteen, and two girls of fifteen and twelve.
The fifteen year old girl was particularly fond of taking showers and of
sporting activities like swimming and racing which normally don't require
wearing clothes.

The twelve year old girl, Maisie, was also often to be filmed without
clothes, but Emma was intrigued to see that unlike the other child actors
she didn't immediately slip on her clothes after filming. She behaved
totally naturally without clothes and often when the set was finished the
only two characters still naked would be Emma and Maisie. Maisie had a
slender frame which had lost its childhood tummy but hadn't yet developed
any breasts or pubic hair. Her dark hair was cut into a bob and her nose
shone appealingly between apple-shaped cheeks in a perpetually cheery face.
Emma immediately developed an affection for Maisie, perhaps because her
natural nudity reminded her of when she'd first developed her naturist
tendencies in her own childhood. She also remembered the somewhat less
than sympathetic response of her parents when they became aware of her
policy of nudity except when absolutely necessary. "Aren't you thoroughly
ashamed of yourself?" her mother would say. Perhaps Maisie would also need
encouragement in her inclinations. Or at least a balance to the
discouragement she might normally receive. At Harlot TV, however, nudity
was no problem and nobody treated Maisie at all differently than was Emma
herself.

After shooting an episode of the soap opera one afternoon, Emma was
walking through the foyer towards the lift to the underground garage when
she saw Maisie sitting on a chair in a sweet blue dress with white ankle
socks reading a comic book. Emma wandered up to her. "Are you waiting for
someone?" she asked kindly. Maisie looked up and smiled that beautiful
little smile that Emma always found endearing. "Not really. It's just
that my train only arrives once an hour, and I've got absolutely ages to
wait."

"Oh, that's alright!" said Emma, almost without thinking. "I've got a
car. I can drive you home."

"But I live miles away."

"That's no problem," Emma said reassuringly. And so Emma took Maisie
down to her car, and drove Maisie to her home in the very outer suburbs
which was actually a great problem getting to. The journey was a long haul
through urban traffic where traffic lights frustrated any good spurt of
movement. However, talking to Maisie took Emma's mind off the journey.
She'd never thought that the appeal of comic book characters, pop stars,
school lessons or school friends could be so fascinating.

Maisie's mother was a teacher at the local Further Education college and
had divorced her father. Maisie had always been very keen on acting and
her mother had been the one who'd encouraged Maisie to attend the audition
for the part in St. Denis Road. She smiled cheekily. No, she didn't
think her mother really appreciated the sex content of the soap opera.
Yes, she enjoyed working on it and she loved watching herself on
television. Her mother had insisted however she shouldn't tell her
school-friends about what exactly it was she was acting in, but that didn't
matter because none of her friends had ever heard of Harlot tv anyway.

Emma eventually arrived at Maisie's home in a pleasant tree-lined
suburban street. She sat in the car, while Maisie got out and thanked her
for the lift. Yes, she'd love a lift next time: it saved her train fare
and loads of time. Emma watched Maisie go to her front door and briefly
saw her mother: a woman in her late thirties with a thin face and mousey
brown hair. She watched Maisie enter the house and felt a strange spasm of
sadness as Maisie waved goodbye.

Emma drove back to her flat (a journey that took well over an hour), and
on the way her thoughts were on Maisie. Such a sweet girl! she thought.
When she got home, she found Charlotte in the front room watching a film by
herself on the movie channel. "Hiya," she said wandering over to the
kitchen to prepare a small dinner (she didn't feel hungry somehow). Then
she went back and nestled against Charlotte. Charlotte was a little
surprised, but responded by gently wrapping her arm around Emma's
shoulders.

Charlotte seemed much happier these days, Emma surmised. She knew that
she had a new friend, but they never talked about it much. At first, Emma
thought it was one of Sarah or penelope who she'd known had been
particularly interested in Charlotte, but it became fairly obvious that it
was neither of them. Whoever it was, Emma didn't care. As long as her
best friend was happy, that was all that mattered.

Charlotte and Emma stayed enmeshed together in front of the television.
Emma was engrossed in her thoughts but also concerned that Charlotte might
think there was something wrong. At least Charlotte didn't try anything on
like she used to do. In fact Charlotte's very lack of apparent sexual
interest was the very reason that for the first time, the two girls went to
the same bed and slept together all night with their naked bodies entwined.

Emma wondered whether it was because Harriett was away abroad, that she
felt so empty these days. She'd received a regular flow of short letters
and postcards from the different countries that Harriett was being filmed
in. It was almost always a surprise to see yet another different postmark
on the letter or very different country depicted on the front of a
postcard. One week Uzbekistan, the next Slovakia and then maybe Kurdistan
or the Kashmir. In all these places, Harriett would describe the sex
scenes she'd been filmed in, what special friends she was now making love
to and how much she missed Emma. The more passionately Harriett was making
love and the more lovers she had, the more she appeared to miss Emma.
She'd jogged round Hanoi naked (apparently a great sport in that naturist
city). She'd swam naked in the Tigris. She'd made love to a transsexual
in Detroit (famous for its sexual variety). It all sounded very exciting,
and Emma was very conscious of not being part of it.

Harriett's and Emma's lovers weren't visiting so often these days.
Susan had come round, but seemed more interested in chatting to Charlotte,
who was again out, than anything else. And, no, she wouldn't make love if
she wasn't being watched. penelope came occasionally, but extremely
irregularly and always arrived unannounced. When Charlotte was in, she and
Emma would spend time together, but what Emma wanted from Charlotte, and
she emphasised it whenever hands wandered, was friendship not passion.
They now always slept in the same bed, but Emma reasoned it was for the
warmth and comfort of their bodies. She enjoyed Charlotte's accounts of
Josephine's stories and was pleased that Charlotte had at last formed a
true lasting lesbian relationship. She was surprised that it was one which
involved very little of the penetration sex she'd enjoyed with Harriett,
let alone bondage, anal or urination, but then Charlotte was a lesbian and
Emma wasn't.

Emma had got into the habit of taking Maisie home from work. In fact,
she actually went considerably out of her way to be available to do so.
But then, of course, you can't just leave a child to travel alone on public
transport. You heard such stories! Emma shuddered to consider the idea of
Maisie being involved in any form of child abuse. Some people (paedophiles
or paederasts, she wasn't sure) are so disgusting! She enjoyed listening
to Maisie's stories about school-life, the other cast on the set and her
mother. She discovered for instance that the fifteen year old boy wasn't
really interested in girls at all, let alone his "girlfriend", and was
known to have a relationship with one of the male actors. Also, this
"girlfriend" had slept with all the men on the cast and boasted about it.
She would always say "I'm not yet sixteen but I've had more than sixteen
good fucks!"

Her mother was a teacher of Communications & Life Skills, English
Language and video Appreciation, and though apparently a very good teacher
felt frustrated at her lack of career advancement. She had wanted to be an
actress, but when she was young she failed audition after audition and was
so thoroughly disenchanted that she opted for a career as a teacher
instead. Also, Emma found out, her mother was very interested in her.
"Why's that?" she wondered.

"I suppose because I tell her about you," said Maisie. "She knows
you're an important person on the set and she wonders why you take so much
interest in me."

"I just don't want to see you come to any harm going home from work."
But Emma was aware that other people at Harlot tv had commented on Emma's
friendship with the young girl. One colleague, who had several children
herself, told her that it was Emma's maternal instinct. Emma didn't want
to tell her that whatever it was, it wasn't a maternal feeling she had
towards Maisie. What it was, she wasn't sure, but she spent rather a lot
of time thinking about the girl.

"Mummy would like to meet you, you know," commented Maisie. Emma felt a
sudden rush to her throat, and in a slightly throttled voice she said "Is
next time all right?"

And indeed it was. And the next time that Emma drove Maisie home, she
took the car up the drive and followed her into the house. Maisie's mother seemed startled at first and it took Emma a few minutes to realise that
perhaps it was because the silly woman wasn't accustomed to women walking
around with no clothes. Maisie went to her bedroom from whence, just
seconds later, thundered some of the pop music she particularly liked which
to Emma's ear sounded suspiciously like, if rather more lightweight than,
the music she'd enjoyed at Maisie's age. Maisie's mother, Dorothy, smiled
resignedly at Emma over her cup of coffee as if to suggest that she
couldn't help Maisie's musical taste.

Dorothy was a slim small breasted woman with a broad smile which clashed
with weary eyes, which suggested a life of great disappointment.

"Maisie's told me so much about you, Emma," she said.

Emma smiled. "And she about you..."

"It's strange for me to entertain with such strong principles - in
naturism and so on - working for sex television..."

"It doesn't matter," smiled Emma, who'd heard this kind of thing before
from other women. "I'm just doing a job. And one which allows me to be a
naturist."

Emma allowed herself to sink into a role which with the practice she'd
gained with Harriett and her friends had somehow become easy for her, and
that was to gradually steer conversation away from abstract notions towards
sex. And so it was that before long, Emma and Dorothy were holding hands
and looking at each other with obvious intent. Dorothy had never made love
to a woman before, and Emma, in her practised way, reassured her that it
didn't mean either that she was a lesbian or that they were in any way
emotionally tied. "It's only fun. And harmless fun at that!" she
explained.

"Mummy!" Emma suddenly heard, and then felt Dorothy's hand disengage
from hers. She looked round to see a naked Maisie standing at the doorway
and smiling cheekily at the two of them. Dorothy was still fully clothed
but her clothes were rather unruffled and her hair had fallen untidily onto
her face.

"What is it, dear?"

"Just saying good night, Mummy," Maisie said, walking up to Dorothy and
kissed her. Then in the same spirit, she kissed Emma on the lip, and
disappeared off to bed. Dorothy smiled at Emma as she watched Maisie going
upstairs to bed.

"I think Maisie's a bit like you with regards to clothes," Dorothy said
with a apologetic tinge to her voice.

"And a very good attitude it is, too," laughed Emma, undressing Dorothy.
Perhaps it wouldn't have happened like this if Harriett had never
introduced Emma to sex, or perhaps if Harriett were here and not fucking in
Burundi, but the result was that the following morning Emma and Dorothy
were breakfasting together with Maisie after a night which for Dorothy had
been a sexual adventure which she'd never experienced before. This need to
explain herself wearied Emma somewhat who, after all, had heard it several
times before from other women, and, to be honest, had felt rather
distracted from exertion during the night. In fact, as she'd finally
closed her eyes after Dorothy had finally given up stroking her clitoris,
the abiding image in her mind was that of the naked Maisie framed in the
doorway as she went to bed. It was with a tremor of excitement which
almost upset Emma's cup of tea, she saw a naked Maisie enter the kitchen to
join them for breakfast. "Oh! You're still here!" Maisie said to Emma.

"Yes," said Emma, smiling as welcomingly and naturally as she could, but
nonetheless suddenly aware that it was not just her relationship with
Dorothy that had changed overnight, but that with Maisie had also changed
irretrievably. "I'm still here!"

XI

Charlotte's life was now spent on a cloud. Each day drifted by in a
euphoric haze, waiting for the evening in which she'd either make love with
Josephine or sleep with Emma. This was paradise: the two women she loved
being so close. She concentrate on Josephine and her beautiful body, her
wonderful jokes and the lovely way her tongue lingered over her clitoris.
Or she could fix on Emma who despite never letting Charlotte touch her
groin nowadays allowed much more license than before. How could life ever
improve on this?

Emma was in love too, Charlotte knew. But not, alas!, with her. She
also had a dreamy air about her these days. An air of easy distraction.
Her eyes would wander away with her thoughts. She was fairly sure that
Emma had never been in love before, and it had always been clear that,
despite the passion of their lovemaking, she'd never been in love with
Harriett. Emma spent many nights each week with a teacher called Dorothy
who lived a very long way away. But from her conversation it was pretty
clear that it wasn't Dorothy who Emma loved. In fact, it seemed like a
relationship that Emma was either already tired of or had regretted even
beginning. Why then did she continue to see this Dorothy? Even though
Emma's old lovers weren't visiting nearly as often as they used to,
Charlotte was sure that they remained a viable alternative to Dorothy.

However, it soon became impossible for Charlotte to hold off Josephine's
entreaties that she come and visit Emma and Charlotte at her own flat.
Charlotte couldn't just continue visiting Josephine's rather small flat
when her own flat was both larger and more accessible. Charlotte loved
every inch of Josephine's home. She loved every cushion, every joss-stick
holder, and she and Josephine had names for all the fluffy toys that lay
around the place. The teddies, the gollies, the trolls and other evidence
of the very soft under-belly of Josephine's character. Often the two of
them would just lie together cuddling up close to whatever fluffy toy was
at hand, just happy to be in such a nursery of erotic joy together.

Josephine was starring in a few episodes of a soap opera on one of the
sex stations - but not St Denis Street nor on Harlot tv at all. The plot
sounded very silly, but it troubled Charlotte that Josephine had to make
love with several men and women in the process of filming the series.
"It's only work!" assured Josephine. However, the studio was close to
Charlotte's flat, so she had to relent to pressure and invite Josephine
around for tea with herself and Emma, who would be at home that day.
Charlotte reasoned that there was no cause for anxiety as things were and
anyway Harriett working abroad ...where was it this week? The luxury
casinos of Baku?

And indeed, when Josephine arrived after work, all seemed to go well.
Emma had volunteered to help Charlotte prepare the meal and throughout the
preparation, they chatted just as much as friends as they'd ever done.
Emma was fascinated by all that Charlotte told her about Josephine and on
occasion she leaned over and kissed her, apparently moved by the depth of
her passion. Charlotte wondered how her relationship with Emma would
continue. Josephine had often talked about her, and how much she had
appreciated Emma's lovemaking and, of course, that of Harriett. But she
often said that whereas with Harriett, she could see the actor, there was
something essentially genuine about Emma's sexual performance.

Emma talked to Josephine like an old friend as soon as she arrived, and
indeed as the evening progressed, with each course, Charlotte began to feel
that her unfocussed dread had been fully justified. Bit by bit, she felt
increasingly isolated from the general drift of conversation. Why was
this? she wondered. Why couldn't she get into the general flow of chat?
Perhaps, she reasoned, it was because Emma and Josephine were just
inherently more interesting people than her. Emma was now a successful
executive producer, famous for her nude promotion of Harlot tv and
Josephine was an actress, destined, Charlotte was sure, for fame and
fortune.

Her fears almost overwhelmed her, as she saw with horror Emma use her
new practised skills of seduction to ease conversation and activity around
sex. She reminded Josephine of their first sexual encounter and stroked
Josephine's knee in a way that promised more. And then Charlotte saw the
two girls move off together, Emma's arm around Josephine's waist to where
sure enough Josephine would begin to take her clothes off and the two would
make love.

"Don't leave Charlotte," protested Josephine, as Emma eased up the white
tee-shirt over her neck to reveal the white brassiere underneath.

"Charlotte?" queried Emma, turning around to look at Charlotte sitting
disconsolately at the table in front of a collection of cheese, biscuits
and a glass of half-finished wine.

"Doesn't Charlotte ever join in when you and Harriett make love?"
wondered Josephine pulling a knee-length white sock off her leg to reveal a
shapely white foot.

"Well," commented Emma cautiously. "Well, ... no."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It's just never seemed right."

Josephine stood up, wearing just one sock and a pair of knickers. "It
doesn't seem right without her!" she exclaimed in a way that showed
disapproval for Charlotte's exclusion. She walked up to Charlotte and
leaned over, her breasts dangling, a beautiful rosette of nipple on each,
and kissed her full on the lips. Then, she pulled Charlotte out of her
seat by the arms and dragged her over to Emma.

And so it was, that for the first time, Charlotte made love to Emma.
Admittedly, it was together with Josephine, but this didn't seem to lessen
her shyness. From what Charlotte had seen of Emma's usual love sessions,
Charlotte's presence appeared to act as a restraint on the sexual games
that were played. It was much more like the gentle love she and Josephine
indulged in. Although Emma forced her forefinger up Charlotte's wet and
ready anus, and both she and Josephine put tongues and fingers as deeply
inside Charlotte's vagina as it was possible to go, there were no dildos,
sex toys or anything like that. Of the two lovers, Charlotte wasn't sure
whom she preferred. This was a peculiar thought, Charlotte reflected, as
she deeply loved both women - but the two were very different as sexual
partners. Emma was the more adventurous and the one most keen on
penetration. Josephine, like her clothes, was more reserved, and also the
more tender.

The three made love for hours and eventually collapsed on Charlotte's
bed. At moments, she was kissing Josephine deep inside her mouth, while
Emma played around in some mysterious hidden way with her vagina. And then
her teeth were nibbling on Emma's clitoris, while Josephine was stroking
her buttocks and groin.

If there's a heaven, contemplated Charlotte as she gasped yet again from
yet another orgasm of passion which could surely be heard in all the
adjacent flats. If there's a heaven, she continued contemplating, glancing
down at her two lovers tongues around her groin, supporting her wet and
sticky torso in their naked arms. If there's a heaven, then it must be
like this!

One of the unanticipated penalties of spending her working hours in the
nude, Charlotte discovered, was that the battering she was getting these
days around her groin could not be easily hidden. The swollenness of her
vagina after an evening of sex with Emma or with both Emma and Josephine
just could not be disguised. Neither too could the bite marks around her
clitoris or on the top of her thighs. Nor could she hide the bruise she'd
somehow inflicted on herself while Emma was guiding her body to yet more
torturous demands. And when, on a whim, Emma suggested that she'd find
Charlotte more attractive if she had no hair on her crotch, Charlotte now
shaved her crotch every morning, an affectation that was impossible to hide
for long at the office. She had to invent an allergy to explain her new
appearance, but anyone who cared to look at all carefully at her battered
body could see that it was best explained by the demands of lovemaking.

Charlotte was extremely surprised when Emma first suggested she shave in
this region. Surely it went against the grain of her naturist views: her
uncut hair, her unshaven armpits and her vegetarianism. And it was
noticeable that Emma didn't shave off her own pubic hair. But any
sacrifice she made for Emma was surely worthwhile, and she didn't begrudge
it at all. And, anyway, she was sure it increased Charlotte's passion for
her.

Most nights Emma wasn't at home and Charlotte assumed that she wasn't
lying when she said that it was because she was sleeping with Dorothy.
Charlotte couldn't understand the attraction that Dorothy was exercising,
but she felt it must have something to do with Emma's curious moods, her
long gazes into the distance and this heightened passion for sex. Perhaps,
it might explain Emma's new fascination for shaven groins. Or maybe this
increased need to swamp herself in erotic pleasure.

Most of Charlotte's nights were spent with Josephine who had no
difficulty in sharing her lover's affection with Emma. Perhaps it was
because Josephine could see that Emma was not in love with Charlotte, and
was therefore no threat in that way. Perhaps it was because she could see
that the continued ambivalence of their relationship caused Charlotte so
much distress. Josephine was definitely a comfort to Charlotte. They
spent many hours holding each others naked bodies. Watching television.
Talking. Sometimes just in silence. It was Josephine who made Charlotte's
life whole and who ensured that she didn't get depressed about the way her
deep passion for Emma was reciprocated only in a physical (perhaps even too
physical) way.

However much she loved Josephine, and she loved Josephine dearly,
Charlotte was still besotted by Emma. How can it be possible, wondered
Charlotte, as she mused on this, to love two people so much and at the same
time? She needed the nights with Emma when she was thrown roughly onto the
carpet, carrots and courgettes inserted up her vagina, the little drip of
blood when they'd been a little too rough, that wasted, wet and dripping
feeling as the hours of lovemaking drained her of all moisture and energy.

"Susan's coming this evening," Emma announced to Charlotte when she
returned home from work, and was throwing off her clothes.

"Susan?" wondered Charlotte who'd not seen the oriental girl for a long
time and assumed she'd not be visiting again.

"Yes," Emma said mysteriously. "I invited her."

"For dinner?"

"And sex," said Emma, having no patience for avoiding the crux of the
subject. "I've been thinking that what I need might be her."

"Oh?" said Charlotte sadly.

"And you will stay and watch, won't you?" asked Emma with a weary smile,
knowing that Charlotte could never refuse her anything. Charlotte nodded
resignedly and then the two girls went into the kitchen to prepare a bean
lasagne for dinner. Emma explained to Charlotte that she'd recently been
thinking about Susan and, stroking Emma's bare crotch, she'd also been
thinking of shaving off Susan's pubic hairs. Charlotte couldn't really see
why Emma should get so much erotic pleasure out of such a small thing, but
she nodded her head.

Emma and Charlotte finished cooking before Susan arrived, and made
passionate love together in front of the television. Emma's imagining I'm
Susan, thought Charlotte as Emma pushed her fingers deep inside her anus.
And when Susan arrived, a bit shy towards Charlotte, she could see that
Emma was somehow more solicitous towards her than she'd ever been before.
Susan tried, however, to disengage herself from Emma's attention and affix
herself on Charlotte whom she touched shyly but affectionately.

"Oh! You've shaved your vagina!" she exclaimed. "It does look odd!
Emma's asked me to come so that she can shave off my crotch. I agreed, of
course, but more to see you than anything else. Why is Emma so keen on
shaved crotches though?"

Charlotte didn't know but she didn't want to appear too ignorant of her
lover's feelings. "Emma's been seeing this older teacher a lot recently. I
think she's learnt some pretty odd things from her."

Susan nodded, as if this somehow explained it.

After dinner, Susan took off her clothes in a number of quick movements,
practice learnt from her career as a porn star. Charlotte noticed with a
pang that Emma seemed excited at the sight of Susan's tiny breasts, slim
figure and narrow hips. Then Emma gently sat Susan down in a chair and
parted her legs, so that the whole of her vagina was revealed. Then, using
Charlotte's shaving foam and brush, she lightly lathered the hair around
the groin.

Charlotte stood back to watch the care and attention Emma was paying to
Susan's crotch as she shaved it with her safety razor. Susan also watched
with a slightly puzzled expression as the hair came off with each scrape of
the blade. When Emma finished, she lightly washed off the foam and
splashed it with water to remove the loose cuttings of hair and shaving
foam. Susan and Charlotte looked bemusedly at Susan's now bare crotch. It
was very smooth, revealing the folds of her labia around a somewhat larger
vagina than might have seemed possible for such a small girl.

Susan smiled at Charlotte and then, curiously shyly, at Emma. "My
crotch hasn't been like that since I was a child!" she announced.

Somehow this statement excited Emma, and it was in no time at all that
Charlotte witnessed the two girls roll over onto the carpet and make love.
And such ferocious passion as well. It was frightening to watch. How
could Emma have so much energy? And what was the passion that exercised
her as she bit and pummelled away at Susan's bare crotch which was fast
accumulating bite marks and bruises. Even Susan seemed frightened by
Emma's passion. It was unrelenting and nearly violent. Or perhaps it was
violent. Charlotte didn't feel, as she most often did when she watched
Emma make love with someone else, that she wanted to be actively involved.

In fact, her feelings were very much more with the bruised and dazed
Susan who later that evening she took to bed with her, while Emma,
uncharacteristically and perhaps brusquely, went to bed by herself. It
seemed to Charlotte as she watched Emma leave that she was rather unhappy.
Whatever it was she'd hoped to gain from her lovemaking with Susan hadn't
been achieved. And was it the sound of Emma crying or sobbing that
Charlotte occasionally heard during the night? as she held a strangely
silent Susan to her. She looked like someone who had been used and
discarded, and Susan didn't seem to have relished the experience. Although
the two girls didn't exactly make love, they stroked their shaven crotches,
their thoughts elsewhere, but somehow Charlotte was sure, focused on the
same woman.

What was the trouble with Emma these days? Charlotte wondered. Why
can't my love for her make her feel better? Am I the one at fault or is it
she? It was several hours until Charlotte could fall asleep, knowing that
the morning would come too soon and she would not feel much better for only
a few brief hours of sleep.

XII

"Are you staying with Mummy again tonight?" Maisie asked Emma while they
watched two of the cast of St. Denis Road making love. One of the cast
had just passed her sixteenth birthday and could now be filmed legally in
sex scenes. She had looked forward to this day for a long time and had
discussed with Emma which of the cast she would most like to be filmed
having sex with. An additional complication was that her "boyfriend" from
the cast was still under age, so she had to be portrayed as unfaithful.
This conflicted with the general ethos of the program especially as her
preferred fuck was her "father". It was necessary to opt for her second
preference: a next-door neighbour who in the program generally played a
rather simple humurous rôle wherein he often lost his trousers and
underpants.

However, the scene which Maisie and Emma were watching in fact featured
her having sex with her "father" in a specially filmed episode intended for
export partly in deference to the girl's actual desire and the added
interest generated by making such a "pirate" episode. Emma wondered what
boost it might bring to the programme's already quite respectable ratings.

Maisie had become rather accustomed to seeing such sex scenes and Emma
didn't really feel at all embarrassed to be with her as the "father" and
"daughter" carried on in their enthusiastic way. But she did get a little
embarrassed by Maisie's question. "Why yes, of course," she answered.
"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason!" Maisie replied. "Oh look at Melissa! You can see
she's often done this before!"

And indeed you could as she took her "father"'s penis with a practised
air and aimed the come directly into her mouth. Emma wondered about this.
It would make good television, but it somehow compromised the premise of
the character's virginity. Perhaps this scene would have to be edited out
and attached to an episode where she would be supposedly more experienced.

At the end of the day, after congratulating Melissa on her performance
and scheduling her "official" episode for the following day, Emma again
waited for Maisie to be ready for the drive home. Maisie was chatting with
Melissa who was giving details of how she and her "father" had practised
for this scene. Eventually they headed for the car and put on their
seat-belts. Maisie had stopped wearing clothes at all: at home, at work or
even in the car. This had caused comment from others at the station about
Emma's influence on the child, despite it being entirely Maisie's choice.

Dorothy didn't wear many clothes either these days, but she couldn't
really be called a naturist. She generally wore a dressing gown and was
eager to hide her nakedness from Maisie. But there was very little
hesitation about taking her clothes off when the two women went to bed.
Emma carefully avoided being rough with Dorothy. She reserved a certain
kind of respect for Maisie's mother and felt there would be something
distasteful about treating her quite as passionately as she would Charlotte
or Susan. In fact, Emma was aware, she didn't really make love to Dorothy
with anything like the passion she would with most other women. Why then
did she still stay with Dorothy and Maisie so often?

Dorothy didn't bother to hide her affection to Emma from Maisie. As
soon as Emma and Maisie made their way from the garage to the house, she
would kiss Maisie tenderly on the cheek and Emma for a few moments longer
deep inside the mouth. While sitting together with Maisie in the living
room, watching television or having dinner, Dorothy would squeeze Emma's
hand, put her arms around her shoulder and occasionally lean over and kiss
her.

Dorothy and Emma chatted with Maisie about work and Melissa's exciting
day. "She's ever so good at it," Maisie said. "A lot better than Nancy."

"Nancy?" wondered Dorothy.

"She plays Maisie's "mother" on the show," explained Emma. "One of the
running jokes in the series is that Maisie keeps catching her "mother"
making love to milkmen, neighbours or her "father". Because of that
Maisie's got rather used to seeing Nancy making love on the set."

"And what's Nancy like?" wondered Dorothy.

"As an actress? Or in the sex scenes? Well, she's good as a comic
actress. She used to be in the theatre before sex television. She was
quite used to being in trousers down and breasts out comedies. She's
improving her sex scenes, but it's not really that important how well she
performs every time. We can always edit the scenes if we have to."

"Why don't you always do that?"

"We're obliged by the terms of our charter to provide a high percentage
of authenticity in the sex scenes."

"And so my daughter sees rather a lot of sex at work, does she?"

"I'm afraid so, but she mustn't appear as a participant in any sex
scene. Nudity is permitted and non-sexual touching of other children, but
everything else is totally forbidden."

"Well, that's alright then," commented Dorothy, but not sounding very
convinced.

When Maisie had left and the first thumps of her audio system could be
heard, Dorothy leaned over to Emma and rather forcefully pushed her tongue
straight into her mouth. Emma was taken aback a little, but soon
reciprocated and the two women began caressing each other. Dorothy's
dressing gown slipped off and the two of them were naked. Emma detached
her tongue from Dorothy's mouth and whispered in her ear. "Shouldn't we go
to the bedroom?" she asked.

Dorothy didn't answer and instead became noticeably more amorous.
Perhaps she likes the novelty value of making love in the living room with
the television burbling on, thought Emma, who herself rather liked the
change of scene. It wasn't too long till all consideration of such
niceties were forgotten as the two struggled together, groin rubbing
against groin. For the first time, Emma inserted her middle finger all the
way up Dorothy's anus and was somewhat startled by the passion of her
response. "Oh God!" Dorothy gasped. "I love you! God! Deeper! Deeper!"
It was at that moment that Emma caught a glimpse of another figure in
the living room. It was Maisie, sitting calmly on the settee watching Emma
and her mother make love. Emma abruptly stopped and whispered urgently to
Dorothy: "Maisie's here! And she's watching!"

Dorothy looked up from Emma's breasts where she had been biting at her
nipples. "So what!" she said before returning with more vigour.

As Emma leaned back while Dorothy's finger started easing into her own
anus, she looked questioningly at her lover. She could just about mouth
the word "daughter". Dorothy responded by pulling her face directly up to
Emma's and pinching her clitoris firmly. "If she sees sex every day at
work," she whispered, "what difference does it make if she sees it at
home?"

Emma couldn't argue with that and indeed the thought of Maisie watching
their lovemaking rather added more excitement to the proceedings. She
enjoyed catching sight of Maisie from the corner of her eyes as Dorothy
prised open her vagina and pushed as much of her tongue and some of her
fingers as deep inside her as she could. She looked at Maisie's pretty
figure as she reciprocated by swivelling round to put her mouth and fingers
dangerously deeply into her mother's slightly shit-smelling backside. She
hoped Maisie didn't spot her as she detached a piece of dried shit where it
had got caught in her teeth.

Maisie was still there when Emma and Dorothy had finished . "You're
still not as good as Melissa," she commented matter-of-factly.

"Don't be so rude to Emma," laughed Dorothy.

Emma blushed. "It really doesn't matter," she said, but at the same
time feeling curiously snubbed.

Later, when Dorothy and Emma were in bed together and Dorothy had failed
to interest her lover in making love, she commented: "You don't fool me,
you know."

"Fool you?" started Emma suddenly feeling guilty.

"Yes, you know, - about my daughter ..."

"I don't know what you mean..."

"It's not me you're in love with at all. It's not because of me you
come here so often and share my bed. It's Maisie!"

"Maisie!?"

Dorothy sniffed with a mixture of contempt and sympathy. "You don't
have to pretend. I do know. It's Maisie you're in love with!"

Now that Dorothy had made it obvious what her real feelings were, Emma
felt curiously disoriented. She now understood why she was so obsessed
with Maisie. She also understood why she had insisted on poor Charlotte
shaving off her vulva and why she had become so eager on making love to
women with small breasts and slender hips. She also could also see what
she'd been hiding from herself and what had been making her so unhappy.

At first Emma felt very guilty at being discovered by Dorothy. She was
a paedophile. Someone who wanted to molest children. Someone whose desire
was to corrupt youth and pervert them to her own despicable lusts. This
made her cry, and she clung tightly to Dorothy who was surprised at the
depth of Emma's response. She'd probably not realised that Emma hadn't let
herself recognise her love for Maisie. A few days later though, Emma felt
relieved that it was in the open at last. She didn't have to pretend to
herself. And she didn't have to pretend to Dorothy. But, and this
dampened her relief, she did have to continue to pretend to Maisie.

"What can I do?" she confided to Dorothy. "I see her every day when
she's on the set. I can't suddenly stop seeing her, and pretend she's not
there. And am I to stop coming here where I see her all the time? What
can I do?"

"You do love Maisie," commented Dorothy. "And sincerely." She pulled
the younger woman towards her front and held her tightly to her breasts while Emma wept in self-pity and held back the occasional choke.

When Emma left the following morning to drive back to her flat, Dorothy
was particularly insistent that she should visit again. "You mustn't make
your feelings for my daughter blight your life," she insisted. "In fact,
I'll have a word with her."

"What good would that do?" sobbed Emma as the garage door opened and she
drove off.

The next time that Emma came to stay with Dorothy was again after a day
in the studio where she'd been polite with Maisie but tried not to look
directly at her. She mustn't torture herself. She had to let her feelings
gradually die. Maisie however seemed peculiarly jolly and made many
strange comments about the other cast. She particularly made a point of
watching this episode's sex scene which continued Melissa's affair with her
"next-door neighbour" and was followed by a scene in which her "boyfriend"
(who in fact had already had sex with the "next-door neighbour" in real
life) discovered the two together and had to appear rather distressed.

"Melissa's really enjoying these sex scenes," commented Maisie. "She
much prefers it to all those swimming pool, bathroom and bathing bed
scenes." This sounded odd to Emma who knew that Maisie had her fair share
of exactly those kinds of scenes. In fact, the only times she wore clothes
(except when she went to school) were those scenes where she was not
required to be naked. In those scenes, Maisie seemed almost a different
girl but no less seductive.

When Emma and Maisie arrived at Dorothy's home, she noticed a curious
air of anticipation about Maisie. An air she'd sensed on the journey back
where Maisie spoke relatively little and often looked at her. What could
Dorothy have told her daughter? Surely she wouldn't have told the truth?

Dorothy smiled and hugged Emma. "I'm so glad you decided to come," she
said. "I was frightened you'd never come again. And Maisie's pretty glad
too."

"Why Maisie?"

Dorothy put her arms around Maisie's shoulders and pulled her towards
her dressing-gowned body. "Well we spoke didn't we, Maisie?"

"Yes," said her daughter with none of the older women's caution. "Mummy
told me that you've got a crush on me. She said that you want to have sex
with me."

"She did!" gasped Emma in alarm.

"Well, Maisie asked some pretty direct questions..."

"And I said to Mummy that I don't mind. After all Katie's done it
enough times."

Katie was another girl on the set, a little older than Maisie but still
rather young. But what was Maisie saying? "What don't you mind ... ?"
Emma asked hardly daring to guess.

"You know, silly," laughed Maisie. "Mummy says she'll help."

"Help what?"

Dorothy interceded. "Help you make love with my daughter, of course!
She's not done it before, but she's very keen on the idea. She said she
thought you might, as she calls it, fancy her, but she didn't know if you'd
ever ask. Apparently, she's been wanting you to ask her from whenever she
first met you."

"You're quite nice," Maisie admitted. "And you look really nice too.
And you're not going to stick a willy in me like the men do. Katie says it
sometimes hurts really bad and it's better with girls."

And so it was with trepidation that Emma made love to Maisie. Her
mother held her head and shoulders in her lap and stroked her hair while
Emma explored Maisie's body with her tongue and fingers and encouraged
Maisie to reciprocate. At first, both of them were very awkward. Emma was
in awe of Maisie's beautiful child's body. Her heart thumped like a
steam-hammer and her cheeks burned like toasters. Maisie meanwhile watched
Emma with the intense concentration of a child, no doubt wondering what
pleasure was supposed to be given.

After a while, Dorothy moved away and sat discreetly on a chair. She
occasionally nodded and smiled encouragement at her daughter who was
gradually getting more used to what she was be doing and feeling. Maisie
crawled down Emma's body and explored her vagina with her tongue and
fingers. She opened up the labia and peered right in. "It's much bigger
than mine," she commented, as she put her fingers right in. "And it's very
sticky!" Emma gasped as she swivelled round so that she could stimulate
Maisie's tiny little vagina. The difference in size required Emma to bend
over in a very unnatural manner to insert her tongue there, while most of
the work came from her fingers as they exercised Maisie's minuscule
clitoris.

"Ooh! That feels funny," giggled the child. "And you give out ever
such a funny smell. And you've got a funny thing like a little boy's
willy."

"You've got one too," commented Dorothy.

"But it's not like this!" Maisie exclaimed. "And there's lots of folds
here and lots of hair. Oooh! It keeps getting in my teeth! And what are
you doing to my bottom? That feels really funny! I think it's nicer at
the front. There's much more space!"

Emma's and Maisie's lovemaking session was very different from what both
had expected. Maisie had expected the world to explode like fireworks and
that she'd gasp and make noises just like the other girls did on the set of
St Denis Road. Emma hadn't really considered how much difference
pre-pubescence made on sexual awareness and sexual attitudes. Maisie had
no concept of homosexuality, perversion or sexual morality. Her only
criteria were comfort and pleasure. She thought the smells were funny and
that Emma sweated too much. Also neither of them had really considered the
difference their sizes made, particularly in terms of sexual organs.
Maisie found Emma's spectacularly large and her nipples enormous. Emma
found she had to be much more careful and considerate with Maisie's vagina than she'd ever been with one before. It was as delicate as a new flower
and resisted penetration by even Emma's tidily manicured fingers to an
extent she'd never imagined.

At the end of it, Maisie felt slightly disappointed and Emma felt that
she had somehow passed through an emotional stage in her love-life that
perhaps most lovers go through long before they had had as many sexual
encounters as she'd had. Maisie complained that she hurt in certain
places, particularly her bottom, and was covered in saliva from Emma's
tongue.

"Don't worry, dearest," her mother reassured her. "The first time is
always a bit funny."

"Does it get better?" Maisie wondered.

Dorothy looked meaningfully at Emma who surrounded her daughter lovingly
in her arms and was filled with peculiar and conflicting thoughts. "That
depends on the next time, doesn't it?"

Maisie was jolly pleased that she had a girlfriend now. Especially a
grown-up one and one as important as Emma. Even Katie didn't have a
girlfriend although she was always making love with different people on the
cast. It was much nicer to just have the one girlfriend and not lots of
different ones even if you still sometimes felt just a little sore when you
went to the toilet.

When she was at the Harlot tv studio, she would stay as close to Emma as
possible, often holding her hand and sometimes kissing her on the face or
other places which she thought of as special places. Emma didn't seem to
mind the hand-holding, but she didn't like the more intimate stuff. "You
shouldn't do that at work," she commented.

"Why not? Melissa does all the time. She's always fucking people even
when she's not being filmed!"

"Well, don't! Some people don't like to see it!"

"Oh! You're such a Silly!" Maisie exclaimed, pointedly kissing Emma's
clitoris in the way that Emma usually liked so much. She liked to tell
Katie and the other children on her cast about what she did with Emma at
home. What was especially nice was the way they would tell her more about
the things they did. It was like joining a new club where the membership
fee was to have done it with someone.

"I think Emma's really pretty!" said Melissa. "I'd love to fuck her!"

"What about your mum?" asked Katie. "Does she join in?"

"Not really!" admitted Maisie. "She does it with Emma but not with me.
But she kisses me a lot when she's done it with Emma and she makes such a
lot of noise. It's funny how much noise Mummy makes. It's ever so much
more than Emma! And she smells funny too."

g"You ought to do it with your Mummy," advised Melissa. "It'd be a lot
better!"

"Isn't that naughty?" wondered Maisie.

"Don't be silly!" exclaimed Katie. "Mummy's been doing it with me for
years! She says that's why she got me into this: so's she could watch me
doing it on television. She says it gives her a real kick. And she says
if my Daddy hadn't left Mummy years ago, I could do it with him."

"Daddy used to do it with me before he left with Uncle Freddie," said
Melissa. "And I've never done it with Mummy. And I've asked her ever so
many times!"

Maisie still wasn't sure it was right to make love with her mother, but
since her mother was always there watching when she made love with Emma it
was easy to try it out. The next time Emma and she were making love
together she looked at her mother who was fingering herself in the front
like she often did. "Why don't you join in, Mummy?" she asked.

Her mother nodded. She sometimes did do, but only to kiss, fondle or
stroke Emma. She crawled onto the bed beside Emma and Maisie and kissed
Emma on the mouth while Maisie's tongue nibbled appreciatively at Emma's
clitoris. Then Maisie lifted herself off Emma and nibbled her Mother's
vagina. It was quite different to Emma's, she could see. It looked a bit
older with a few greying and coarse hairs and the pubic hair was somehow
less bouncy. She pushed her tongue in deeply and was pleased to hear her
Mother make groaning noises. This was different! thought Maisie, as she
disengaged one of her hands from underneath Emma who was, in any case,
enrapt in locating her mother's anus and sticking her finger up it. She
pushed her fingers into her mother's vagina and watched as Emma put her
much larger finger into the back where little dark brown bits stuck to the
hairs at the back. Maisie put her tongue to the area between the vagina and the anus that Emma particularly liked. It was nice and sticky and
smelt strongly of a different kind of sex smell to Emma's. Her tongue
occasionally lapped against Emma's finger which she'd often before put into
her mouth and licked her own sticky stuff off.

Suddenly Emma and her mother pushed themselves apart and Maisie to one
side. "Maisie! What are you doing?" gasped her Mother. "What on earth
are you doing!"

"Don't you like it, Mummy?" wondered Maisie. Katie told her that her
mother always liked doing it. Why should her own mother be different?
Maisie's mother simply looked a bit aghast.

"It's nice dearest. But you shouldn't do it," Emma tried to explain.

"Why not?" asked Maisie who felt she'd done something very naughty and
didn't like being told off for it. "Katie does it. And Melissa. And
Mummy seemed to like it!"

On this occasion both Emma and Maisie's mother were adamant that Maisie
shouldn't continue, and indeed the whole of the rest of the evening was
spoilt. Maisie started crying and retreated to her room leaving the other
two looking both guilty and upset. She lay in bed, naked as always,
sobbing into her pillow. "What did I do wrong?" she asked herself.

A little later, Emma came up to her room but she didn't come into the
bed with her as she usually did. She sat by Maisie holding the sobbing
girl's head to her breast and comforted her. "Mummy just doesn't want you
to do that with her," she tried to explain.

"But I wanted to do it with Mummy!" sniffed Maisie. "You can! Why
can't I?"

Emma smiled grimly. "It's different for me," she explained. "Anyway,
Mummy says she doesn't want to watch us together any more. She says it's
not right. So we'll just have to make love together in your room."

"But Mummy's bed's a lot bigger and more comfortable."

"Well, perhaps we can use Mummy's bed. But not with Mummy there."

After this occasion, Maisie noticed quite a different atmosphere at
home. Emma made love with her less often and more often with her mother.
Maisie felt she was being punished for something she'd not done, and she
believed that Emma felt the same way. Emma was actually even more
affectionate with Maisie than before, but seemed obliged to spend more time
with her mother. Maisie was sure that it was she rather than her mother that Emma loved the most, but that Emma had to please her mother to be
allowed to sleep with her at all. Maisie had the idea that in some
peculiar way, Emma was paying her mother sex to have sex with her. What a
funny way to pay!

She mentioned this to Emma when they next made love together. "It's
like you have to make love to Mummy two or three times for every time you
make love to me. Why don't you make love with me more often?"

Emma looked startled at Maisie's observations, as if she'd been found
guilty of theft. "Well, no, it's not really that I'm paying Mummy to sleep
with you," she said in a way that to Maisie's experienced ears sounded like
a lie. "But Mummy says I've got to spend more time with her."

"But if you didn't do it with Mummy, would Mummy let you do it with me?"
Emma didn't answer, but bit her lip. There was an uncomfortable pause
before Emma changed the conversation. Nonetheless, Maisie thought that
Emma was somehow upset about what she'd said.

XIII

It was Amelia to whom Emma reported at work. Amelia was a stunning
woman, Emma thought, and in the most objective way possible. Certainly,
the way she dressed was quite unusual. She wore stocking, suspenders and
very high stiletto heels, but then, except for the cloak she sometimes
threw over her shoulders and which came down to just below her buttocks,
she wore nothing else at all. Amelia certainly wasn't a naturist,
otherwise, like Emma, she wouldn't have affected any clothes at all. Nor
was she particularly poor. Her clothes changed quite frequently - although
they remained the same in principle - and looked fairly expensive (not that
Emma was at all sure how much clothes actually did cost). Emma learnt that
Amelia owed her position as one of the Executive Directors of Harlot tv to
holding a substantial stake in the company's shares, and indeed she had
been one of the company's founders. She'd made her fortune as a sex
actress while in her teens, and, unlike many sex actresses, she'd saved her
money and chose to invest it in the relatively new venture of sex
television, rather than spend it on drugs and gambling.

Emma found Amelia rather intimidating. It wasn't Amelia's age, though
she was a little older than Emma, being in her early thirties. Indeed
despite being older, Amelia was still very attractive and took care to
remain so. She had a trim figure which would have been athletic except
that it was offset by her voluptuous full breasts which may or may not have
been surgically enhanced. Her black hair fell straight onto her shoulders
and then was cut so that it was shorter at the back than the front. Her
chosen style of dress emphasised her legs which were long to begin with.
The stretch from her toes to the top of her thighs was breathtakingly long,
and her pubic hairs were tidily trimmed to further exaggerate the length.

It wasn't often that Emma was called to Amelia's office. She had just
been supervising a production she had conceived: a guest show where
ordinary members of the public would have the chance to fuck a celebrity.
She had to concede that this was probably not one of her best ideas because
ordinary members of the public might have enthusiasm but not technique,
whereas the celebrities performed more for the camera than for their
apparent partners. This meant rather more footage and clever editing than
was normally budgeted for on such programs. She had been sitting with
Maisie who had alternated between pulling Emma's clitoris and putting a
finger up her anus, and complaining about why Emma was spending so much
more time with her mother. Emma was getting a bit upset about this
herself, as her love affair with Maisie was getting unnecessarily complex.
Would she have to drop Maisie? And could she survive the wrench?

"Amelia would like a word with you," suddenly announced Amelia's
Personal Assistant, Betty, who as always appeared out of nowhere. Betty
was a slender girl with glasses and hair tied in a bun. She always wore a
very smart suit, with stockings and stilettos, but only a bra underneath
her jacket. She was smart and officious, and had a habit of somehow
vanishing into the shadows wherever she was, so you were never sure she was
still there or not. Betty took no apparent notice of Maisie's blatant
behaviour, and Emma wasn't at all sure if her attitude belied disapproval
or acceptance.

"Why do you want to see me?" asked Emma when she was sat in front of
Amelia in the comfortable arm-chair provided for visitors. She felt very
nervous as Amelia leaned forward stroking her chin with a hand and allowed
her breasts to just touch the shiny oak veneer of her desk.

Amelia smiled warmly. Behind her were pictures of actors and actresses
- including a young Amelia - engaged in various sexual postures and on her
desk was a very expensive laptop computer. "To see you." She answered
enigmatically. She allowed Emma to get a little more uncomfortable and
then explained. "We've been working together a long time, Emma. Years in
fact. And you've shown yourself to be very competent as a researcher and
now as an Executive Producer. But I don't think I really know you. I know
you're a naturist. But then, who doesn't? And I've heard that, unlike
most of the staff here, you've stayed commendably aloof from any of the
sexual games that go on. But that may just be a wise strategy in a
business where sexual favours can count more than competence in the short
run but count against you later. You have nevertheless advanced to quite a
senior position with Harlot tv in a very short time." Amelia paused and
smiled again. "I thought I'd like to invite you out for a meal, so that I
can get to know you better."

Emma was taken aback. "Well, that's very kind of you ..."

"Is tomorrow night at the Iguana okay?"

"I think so," replied Emma, aware that she was now committed and that
the one night of the week she usually reserved for visiting her home and
seeing Charlotte was now taken up.

The Iguana was a restaurant that Emma had never been to before, but it
had always looked very exclusive. She had no idea what to wear, so she had
to phone in advance to see if naturism was acceptable. She was surprised
to find that Amelia had already taken that into account, and had booked the
two of them in to one of the Private Dining Rooms. "That means, madam,"
explained the gentleman from the restaurant, "that you are at license to
wear, or indeed not to wear, whatever you like." Nevertheless, Emma was
still very nervous and bought a coat for the night. She had no idea what
to buy and bought an ankle-length coat which forced her to walk in a
curious and uncomfortable mincing way, if she buttoned it to below the
waist, which she had to do to prevent her crotch being displayed. When she
arrived she was very nervous that the waiter would offer to take off her
coat and reveal her nudity in a crowded room, but the waiter was, in fact,
incredibly discreet. "I dare say you would rather leave your coat on until
we are in the room Ms Uruqhart has reserved."

The Private Dining Room was actually rather small, with just enough
space for the table, guests and waiters. Emma was pleased to find Amelia
waiting for her. At first Emma believed she was dressed as always, and
then she noticed that Amelia wasn't wearing stockings, suspenders or shoes.
"I'm so glad you came!" smiled Amelia as Emma sat down. Emma soon lost her
wariness as Amelia engaged her in conversation which somehow and subtly
shifted away from work and general interests to Emma's more private life.
By the time the main course was finished and a second bottle of champagne
had been ordered, Emma had found that Amelia had already guessed at her
relationship with Maisie.

"Some of the other Directors thought that maybe you just weren't
interested in sex at all - though I must say yours is a most specialist
interest."

Amelia then found out about Emma's relationship with Charlotte, Harriett
and others. "You really don't like men at all do you?"

"I've never really considered it much," confessed Emma who still had no
opinion on her sexual identity. "They're just friends of mine. Maisie's
my only real love."

"And her mother?"

Emma confessed to her worries about that, and the way she was feeling
that Maisie's mother was blackmailing her into more sex with her than she
really wanted. But she emphasised it was Maisie she loved. Maisie was the
only person she'd ever loved.

"I'd love to get to know Maisie a lot better," commented Amelia, but
didn't elaborate.

The conversation progressed from talk about relationships to Amelia's
own life history which sounded pretty exciting to Emma. It appeared to
involve a great deal of travelling, being interviewed, being photographed
and spending a lot of money. The way Amelia described it, it was easy to
forget that any of the films she'd been in had ever involved fucking at
all. In fact, as Emma had heard somewhere else, one of the secrets of
Amelia's success was her ability to take complete penises into her mouth
and down her throat.

This wasn't a skill that Emma witnessed after the meal, but she
witnessed many others, when Amelia steered a quite tipsy Emma into a taxi
and then into the bedroom of her substantial town house. The door was
answered by a quite short and slender black woman in an apron and nothing
else who prepared the two women a cup of coffee which was brought to them
in Amelia's bed. Emma had experienced enough love from women to appreciate
Amelia's sexual skills, but she could see that Amelia was a little
surprised by Emma's sexual appetite and by its tendency towards roughness.

"That Maisie must be battered black and blue!" she commented.

Emma smiled and squeezed her teeth more firmly on Amelia's firm
toe-sized nipple. Rough? Not to Maisie, she wouldn't be. She would only
treat the girl with the tenderness and care she deserved. True love is
never rough.

The following morning Emma was awoken by Amelia's servant with a
breakfast tray which contained a selection of breakfast foods.

She looked around her, but could see no sign of Amelia. She looked at
the servant questioningly. The servant wore the same clothes, or lack of,
as the night before but appeared no more aware of this than Emma who was
generally only belatedly aware of what other people wore, if anything at
all. "Madam's already left for the studio," the servant said with a
reassuring smile. "She said that if you wish to see her, the door to her
office is always open."

Emma thanked the servant, who left with her black bottom showing as she
turned out of the bedroom and shut the doors behind her. Emma relished her
breakfast and stayed under the silk sheets for far longer than she'd
intended, relishing its sheer luxury and enjoying the thoughts of her
passionate night. She restrained herself from masturbating to the memory -
she didn't want to further add more stains to the already love-stained
sheets. Eventually, she emerged and with the assistance of the servant,
who magically appeared just when she was needed, she found her overcoat and
made her way across town to the Harlot tv studio where she had to supervise
a children's pissing programme.

This was an idea of Emma's which exploited the fascination that children
had for pissing and other excretory functions. It was much the same as any
children's programme except for the prevalence of excretion jokes and
demonstrations of guests' skills at pissing and, to a much lesser extent,
shitting. Emma didn't actually enjoy the show at all, - the smell was
dreadful and she didn't envy the cleaning staff at all - but it had become
one of Harlot TV's most popular programmes and had spawned a tamer
equivalent on mainstream television.

After the show, she decided to take Amelia's offer and findout just how
open the door to her office actually was. She walked down the corridor
with rather more trepidation than usual, feeling the eyes that always
trailed her naked body were somehow able to detect her present destination
and intention. She knocked on the door of the room just outside Amelia's
office where Betty, her personal assistant, would sit and where there were
seats for waiting visitors. Betty was indeed sitting at her desk in her
smart, immaculately pressed suit with a computer screen in front of her,
occasionally pressing a key and moving a mouse around. Betty smiled as
soon as Emma appeared, and, without waiting for Emma to say what she
wanted. she said, "I'll see if Ms Uruqhart is able to see you. Please take
a seat."

She stood up and walked precisely on her stilettos to Amelia's office,
while Emma sat down on one of the lush leather chairs. It felt deliciously
cool against her naked buttocks. Betty left the door sufficiently ajar for
Emma to see Amelia's stockinged legs high up in the air whilst a man was
thrusting in and out of her.

Emma felt a curious twinge of disconcertment. Amelia definitely
wouldn't want to see her now, she thought with disappointment- but at a
deeper level she felt hurt that Amelia would need sex so soon after their
night of passion and with a man as well. She saw Betty lean over close to
Amelia and pass a few words, not seemingly at all abashed by Amelia's
intimacy. She then strode out to the reception area leaving the door still
ajar.

"Ms Uruqhart says that she's temporarily tied up entertaining a
customer, but that she would be more than delighted if you would accept
myself as a substitute for the meantime."

Emma wasn't at all sure she'd heard Betty quite right. "What do you
mean?" she asked hoarsely.

"Ms Uruqhart is not a lady who likes to disappoint those whom she
considers to be her lovers, - and you are one of the very select whom she
now considers in that capacity. Consequently, she would much rather that I
were to make love to you than you were to leave unsatisfied."

"That's very considerate of her..."

"You need not worry about indiscretion. Ms Uruqhart has a room set
aside for exactly this purpose. So if you could just follow me, if you
please?"

Emma was actively considering finding her way out of this embarrassing
situation, but somehow Betty's very matter-of-fact approach and the feeling
that she'd somehow be disappointing Amelia if she didn't, encouraged her to
follow Betty into Amelia's office. Amelia was on the desk, her legs in the
air and her stilettos still on, while a very hairy pair of buttocks were
rhythmically pushing in and out of her. As Emma walked by Amelia turned
her face towards her, with sweat pulsing down her face, and smiled
welcomingly. "I'm so ... glad that ... you ... decided to ... decided
to ... come..." she gasped between thrusts. "To come! To come!" She
became thoroughly distracted as the quite stout man on top of her leaned
back with his mouth open pushing deeper and deeper into her. "Bet ... ty
won't ... disapp ...point you! ... Ohhh! God! ... God!"

Emma was no stranger to watching men making love to women. Normally she
saw at least one such event each day, and usually in the flesh. She still
felt a little uncomfortable about it, partly because it was something she'd
not done herself, but it was a discomfort coloured by her complete
indifference to the people involved. This time it was different - perhaps
because she still felt warm from her very recent sex with Amelia. Betty,
however, was not a bad substitute for Amelia as Emma soon found, and the
presence of Amelia's lovemaking in the room next to them actually seemed to
stimulate their passion. Betty had taken her to a small room at the
corner, the door of which Emma had seen before but had assumed to lead to
an adjoining office. In fact, the room consisted of only a large mattress
which filled all the floor- space and a window which let in light from
outside.

Betty divested her clothes before entering the room. All she wore
underneath her smart suit were knickers and a bra, which she folded up
neatly on a chair. She demurely pulled off her stockings, taking especial
care not to snag them on her toe- nails. Then the two of them fell onto
the mattress in the room and started making love in a very gentle way.
Emma found Betty demure and perhaps reticent in a way she'd come to
associate with Maisie, but at the same time she felt a little bored that
Betty skirted around her genitals and spent so much more time licking and
embracing her breasts. "Do you make love to women very often?" Emma
wondered.

"Not very often," admitted Betty sitting up so that her trim figure was
silhouetted against the window through which Emma assessed that anyone with
a pair of binoculars in the building opposite would have a very clear view
of what the two girls were doing.

"How often is that?"

"Only when Ms Uruqhart requests," she said with a slightly troubled
frown. "Aren't I pleasing you?"

Emma smiled as broadly as she could at Betty's admission of inexpertise.
"Of course you are," she said, and then took complete control of the
lovemaking. It was clear that Betty's experience of lovemaking with women
had generally been with fairly inexperienced ones, perhaps only those which
Amelia had seduced. Betty was soon to realise that sex with a woman could
be just as rough and physical as it could be with a man, and was clearly
surprised by the strength of the orgasms that Emma orchestrated and the
pain throbbing from her vagina and anus afterwards.

"It's never been like this before," she confessed, when the two
re-emerged into Amelia's main office to find the room empty.

Betty walked to a basin in the corner of the office and sponged her
lower regions clean and patted them dry with a towel. "Ms Uruqhart is no
doubt keeping her dinner appointment with the representative from Turkish
Television," she commented.

Emma smiled and then kissed Betty full on the lips. "I wouldn't have
liked to have delayed her appointment." Betty then carefully reattired
herself and led Emma back to the reception area where she reasserted
herself in her seat.

"Ms Uruqhart will be very pleased if you would visit her at any time
that suits you, and will endeavour to avail herself on your next visit,"
she said in an officious manner. Then she smiled slightly wickedly. "And
if she is not able to do so, she will endeavour to assist by any other
means."

XIV

Emma was hardly ever at home these days. Where she was Charlotte didn't
really know. She believed that Emma was still seeing that teacher,
Dorothy, and one of Emma's colleagues had told her that it was now common
knowledge that she was having a relationship with her boss.

Charlotte felt totally excluded from Emma's life. It seemed that the
only times Emma ever came back to the flat was when Charlotte was out -
perhaps spending the night at Josephine's or still at work. Whatever it
was, though, Charlotte knew she wasn't part of it, and she was sure that
Emma wasn't even paying her enough attention to be bothered to
intentionally avoid her. Nevertheless, Charlotte was a faithful lover and
nothing that Emma could or couldn't do would shake her love for her
flatmate.

Perhaps, she hoped, when Harriett returns from her jaunts abroad, Emma
might be home more often. But even that hope - compromised as it was by
her feelings that she'd again be excluded from their lovemaking - didn't
seem very likely judging from Harriett's last letter from Baghdad where she
was making a sex film with a Kurd with whom she claimed to have fallen
passionately in love. It seemed that Harriett had more or less forgotten
about returning home. Every assignment she had seemed to lead to another
assignment in yet another exotic location. Charlotte felt incredible envy
at her good luck in visiting and working in places she'd only vaguely heard
of, and then in the most bizarre of places : Damascus, Samarkand, Shanghai,
Puerto Rico, the list was endless. Charlotte hadn't realised that the sex
industry was so widespread, but then these were modern days and the sex
industry was the world's single largest industry (or so she read once).

However, Charlotte wasn't actually lonely. In fact, her position as the
last of her flatmates to stay in actual residence was not at all a lonely
one. Her relationship with Josephine was building towards an intimacy and
passion that outstripped anything she'd had with Emma. However much she
pretended that her love for Emma was unassailable, the evidence of her
heart as she greeted Josephine when she came back from work was that Emma
had become pretty much the secondary passion. It was difficult to be sure
what Josephine's feelings towards her actually were, though she was sure
that she had no other lover. However, as Josephine made a living from
making love with people, it was not for sex that she'd need a relationship.

Josephine was always much more enthusiastic about taking work in stage
performances rather than in film or television, despite the fact she earned
more from a short slot in an advertisement or a short role in a film than
from a month's run with a production in the theatre. However, she was in a
play at the moment where she played a princess in a harem in a production
of Sindbad The Sailor. This production seemed to spend far more time
between the harem sheets than anywhere else, and even though Josephine's
role was fairly minor she still had to have sex with Sindbad, a portly
actor with a stuck-on goatee beard, and two of the other harem girls.

"The advantage of a stage performance," Josephine asserted while the two
girls were resting after their lovemaking, "is that you make love to the
same people every night. No surprises, you see. The disadvantage,
however, is making love to the same boring people night after night. No
surprises at all."

"Don't you get tired of it?" wondered Charlotte.

"Not tired exactly," Josephine considered. "A bit sore perhaps. But
not tired so much. And anyway if you know what your partner's going to do,
you can concentrate on your lines. Make sure you come at the right time."

"What are the girls like?" wondered Charlotte who felt a sudden spasm of
jealousy. She'd seen Josephine on stage, and it seemed to her that her
lover had particularly enjoyed the scene in which the black and blonde girls were having sex with her. She felt a particular pang when one of the
girls inserted a long steel phallus into her vagina while the other put her
tongue into her anus. Why did Josephine have to be such a convincing
actor?

"Not as good as you, darling," responded Josephine, who as always knew
precisely what was the right thing to say.

Despite Emma being such an infrequent visitor, Charlotte kept her vagina shaved as a kind of reminder to herself, if nobody else, of the love she
felt towards her. It was a ceremony every morning, to perch by the bidet
filled with hot water and to carefully scrape off the bristles of pubic
hair. It was not, however, a ceremony that Charlotte needed to do herself.
Susan had left her boyfriend and had more or less moved into the flat as a
permanent guest. Susan didn't shave her own vagina any more - she'd been
somehow more upset by Emma's treatment of her than Charlotte could have
imagined and was quite happy to lose this memory of the incident. However,
she made clearer than ever her passionate love for Charlotte. A passion
she said that eclipsed any previous passion in her life.

This passion rather embarrassed Charlotte, who, although she was quite
fond of Susan, couldn't say that she actually had passionate feelings for
her. Well, not feelings that compared to those she held for Josephine or
Emma. This didn't trouble Susan, however, who went to the trouble of
moving her own bed into Charlotte's bedroom so that there was plenty of
space for her as well whenever Josephine was staying the night.
Charlotte's love for Josephine didn't prevent her leaving her boyfriend, as
she claimed it was hypocritical to stay with someone who was not your first
love. She even went to the extent of having her shoulder tattooed with
Charlotte's name surrounded by a festoon of oriental flowers - the only
tattoo on her body. This was so that when she was being filmed making
love, the viewers would know the name of the only person she truly loved.

Charlotte and Susan did, in fact, make love together. Part of Susan's
love for Charlotte was apparently because she had at last found a lover to
whom she could make love without being watched by others. "You make me
feel more whole!" she would say to Charlotte in her frequent outbursts of
praise and adoration. "With you I am a whole person!"

Charlotte couldn't deny that Susan's love for her was not undesirable.
Indeed, Susan's passion for her made it easier for her to keep at bay the
jealousy she felt towards Emma's mysterious sex life and Josephine's
thespian one. She knew that Susan was also enjoying a sex life away from
her. She was quite in demand in films which required oriental women and,
taking account of her small breasts and boyish body, sometimes children.
Charlotte had even seen Susan in some of these films on video. Susan would
frequently watch them to review her technique and make notes of in a small
school notebook she kept for the purpose. Charlotte occasionally watched
Susan and Josephine make love together - something she allowed because far
more frequently she would be making love to Josephine with Susan watching.

Susan had a very understanding relationship with Charlotte. She knew
that Josephine occupied a primary role in Charlotte's life - and showed no
embarrassment about this. When Josephine visited, which was four nights
out of seven, Susan stayed quite out of the way, occasionally watching but
more often seeming totally uninterested. Even at night, with the three of
them under the same sheets, Susan would stay to one side as Josephine and
Charlotte made tender love together. In fact, she admitted to getting a
warm fulfilment out of seeing the woman she loved getting so much pleasure
out of sex - even if it wasn't with her.

Susan still saw her boyfriend, saying that it wasn't possible just to
abandon someone who she'd lived with for so long. Indeed, she once invited
him round one evening. He was an oriental himself - shorter than Charlotte
and much shorter than Josephine, but still taller and less slight than
Susan. It wasn't very long after the meal, that Susan and he started
fucking on the living room floor. Charlotte who didn't see this kind of
thing nearly as frequently as Josephine felt immobilised by the sight of
it. On the one hand, the sight of this erect penis in Susan's mouth and
then in her vagina rather repulsed her. On the other, it brought back warm
feelings of the men she'd made love with when she was still a sapphic
virgin.

After Susan had decided that she'd had enough of making love to him, she
invited the other girls to join in. "Best to be polite!" said Josephine
with a smile, kissing Charlotte full on the mouth and allowing her tongue
to glide over Charlotte's teeth. She then went down on the ground with
Susan's boyfriend, while Susan herself came over to Charlotte and put her
arm round Charlotte's naked waist and gently stroked her pubic hair.

It was inevitable that when Josephine had finished that Charlotte felt
that, yes, she'd like to have sex with a man again. She felt a bit
nervous, but Susan's boyfriend, who was an sex film actor like Susan, knew
how to comfort her, and soon she was again enjoying full penetrative sex.
She occasionally looked up at her friends and could see Susan and
Josephine, with their arms around each other watching her with supportive
smiles, and this added passion to her activity. She wasn't really making
love to a man, she thought. It's my friends whom I'm making love with, she
said to herself as the penis thrust deep inside her and brought her to a
crescendo of gasps. She enjoyed the deep thrust that she'd almost
forgotten after all these months of sapphic love. She may be a lesbian,
Charlotte reflected, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself with
men.

XV



Dorothy and Emma were wrapped around each other and Dorothy's teeth were
greedily guzzling on Emma's vagina. They'd been having a fairly busy
session of love-making, enlivened by Emma beating her buttocks quite
ferociously with a table- tennis bat: a game they'd only recently started
playing. Indeed many of the games they'd play had an air of brutality:
involving the insertion of quite painful objects up her vagina and anus,
and frequent beatings across the buttocks. Indeed, lovemaking with Emma
had become more brutal than making love to a man had ever been. And it was
always she who was getting the roughest of it. In bed, it was always Emma
who was the dominant partner. Dorothy didn't mind, though. At least it
kept the two of them together. She allowed her eyes to wander away from
Emma's clitoris towards her face and noticed that Emma's eyes had a far
away and distant look in them.

She tried to work out what it was that Emma may have been thinking
about. It certainly wasn't sex. Perhaps she was thinking about her
daughter. Certainly, Emma's love for Maisie, although rather perverse, was
also very touching. Emma and her daughter would return together from the
studio, hand in hand, in delightful joy at just being together. Maisie's
eyes lit up so brightly when she was with Emma. And Emma's eyes also
sparkled in a special way when she was with Maisie.

There was none of that sparkle in Emma's eyes at the moment. Nor did
there ever seem to be any sparkle in her eyes when they were together
compared to that when Emma was with Maisie. In fact, - and Dorothy pulled
her mouth off Emma's crotch at the thought, - the most common expression in
her eyes was boredom.

"What's wrong, Dorothy?" asked Emma from above on feeling Dorothy
suddenly disengage herself.

"You don't love me at all, do you?" Dorothy accused her suddenly.

"Sorry. What do you mean?"

"It's Maisie you love," Dorothy continued pushing herself back and
instinctively covering her breasts from Emma's gaze. "Not me at all. You
only come here to see Maisie!"

"That's nonsense," said Emma, but blushed like someone who had just been
found out.

"It isn't, you know," Dorothy continued, standing up and putting on her
underwear. "You've never loved me, have you? You only started a
relationship with me to be able to see Maisie. I hate you!" She suddenly
burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably.

Emma jumped up from the bed, with the table-tennis bat still in one
hand, and put a comforting arm around Dorothy's shoulders. At first
Dorothy was comforted, but then she abruptly flung Emma's arm off. "I
don't care. I'm not living a lie with you. When you come round here from
now on, you come round to see and sleep with Maisie. You don't sleep with
me any more! Do you understand! No more sex between us!"

Emma was clearly taken aback. She sat disconsolately at the end of the
bed looking down at her hands and idly examined the rubber surface of the
table-tennis bat. "What shall I do?" she asked weakly.

"Go into Maisie's bedroom and make love with her, as that's what you
want to do. But don't come here and don't try to make love with me again."

Emma initially resisted leaving, but when a fully-clothed Dorothy
started pushing her out of the bedroom it was clear that her erstwhile
lover was in earnest. She obediently walked into Maisie's bedroom where
the child was delighted by the surprise visit.

A new pattern had formed in Emma's relationship with Maisie and her
mother. From now on Emma's visits to Maisie's home felt much less
welcoming than before, but her love for Maisie drove her to continue.

Dorothy felt both sorry for Emma's discomfort when she was visiting and
bitter now that they were no longer lovers. When Emma and Maisie came
home, she would greet Maisie as warmly as before, but was much more frosty
towards Emma who she greeted as briefly and politely as she could. Then
Emma and Maisie would retreat to Maisie's bedroom where they no doubt
indulged in their sex games together. Games from which Dorothy was now
excluded.

She sometimes speculated as to what Emma and her daughter did together.
She knew the games that she had played with Emma herself, and she
remembered how rough they could be. She still had red marks on the cheeks
of her buttocks from when Dorothy felt in need of a beating and Emma had
obliged. She remembered the occasions when she had nearly broken her nose
in repeated batterings against Emma's buttocks. And she could still feel
the carrots, cucumbers and other such vegetables that Emma would force up
her vagina and sometimes her anus. She remembered the tiny blood stains
that sometimes dripped out from between her legs the following day after a
particular passionate night, irrespective of how close it was to her
menstrual period.

Dorothy's concern for Maisie was also coloured by a wave of jealousy:
one which wasn't at all improved by the fact that her daughter was quite
obviously enjoying the extra attention that her lover was giving her.
Dorothy would often see Maisie squeeze Emma's hand tightly in affection.
She would see Maisie grip Emma tightly around the waist, and nuzzle her
nose in the bushy mound of Emma's pubic hair. Emma's affection for Maisie
was also undeniable. In her more charitable moments, Dorothy reflected
stoically that at least the two people she cared about most were happy
together, even if they didn't seem so happy with only her.

However, this uneasy relationship couldn't last for long. Its strain
was particularly agonising when Dorothy saw Maisie licking at Emma's vagina while her hair was being appreciatively stroked. Or when she heard her
daughter's cries of ecstasy or, less frequently but louder, those of Emma,
coming from Maisie's bedroom during the evening or night. But the final
moment was when an ecstatic Maisie came rushing in to confide to her mother what she'd been doing.

Dorothy was reading a book at the time. She'd just finished marking
some essays, and had squeezed ear-plugs in her ears to drive out the sounds
from Maisie's room of Emma's cries and the dreadful thumping of the bed
against the wall. Then she noticed her daughter coming in, naked as always
and saying "I've done it! I've done it!"

"Done what, dear?" wondered Dorothy looking up from her book and
noticing for the first time that Maisie wasn't actually naked. She was
wearing quite a sizeable, anatomically correct, dildo around her waist
which looked monstrous on such a small slender frame.

"Why, Mummy! I've fucked Emma! I've always wanted to and now she's let
me!"

"You've done what?" demanded Dorothy angrily. Is this the sort of
language she'd taught her child to use?

"I've fucked Emma!" Maisie said, with a mixture of residual ecstasy and
satisfaction tinged by uncertainty derived from her mother's tone.

"Don't use that language with me, young lady!" Dorothy suddenly shouted,
slapping her daughter on the face. "Don't use words like that ever again!"
She slapped her daughter again.

Maisie fell back on the bed crying, with the still-moist dildo sticking
out incongruously. "What have I done wrong, Mummy!" she cried. At that
moment, Emma arrived, with trickles of sweat still running down her thighs
and chest. "What's going on?"

From then on, the evening was a long tirade of screaming, shouting and
accusations - mostly made by Dorothy. Maisie cried to herself - and only
said anything when asked. And then whatever she said seemed only to make
things worse. Emma said very little, but was clearly unhappy. Finally,
Dorothy announced: "If you want to see my daughter again : Fine! But don't
come around here again. Have your perverted sex somewhere else, and don't
let me know about it!"

"Can I stay at Emma's then?" wondered Maisie through her reddened, tear-
stained face.

"If you must! It's none of my concern what you do together! But Emma's
not to cross the threshold of this house again!"

XVI



At last! Maisie was going to visit Emma's home and meet the girlfriends
that Emma had told her about. Actually, she'd would only meet one of them,
Charlotte, because her other girlfriend was working abroad at the moment
making sex films. But it was so exciting anyway, to be staying somewhere
that wasn't her normal home. And as Emma had explained to her, she might
be staying at Emma's flat quite frequently in the future. Ever since Mummy
had argued with Emma, staying at home had become quite awkward, with Mummy
being so sullen and being funny about her not wearing clothes. Why had it
been alright to wear no clothes before, and now totally wrong? Grown-ups
were so funny!

Emma's flat was in such a very old building which you had to go up ever
so many stairs to get to. And when you got there you had to use keys just
as you had to get into the building in the first place. But the flat was
very welcoming, with a book- cupboard and a vase of dried flowers in the
hallway just outside and a very pretty poster of more flowers on the actual
door. Emma and Maisie hadn't put any clothes on after leaving the studio
and going by the car from the television car-park. Nor did they from
getting out of the car in the apartment block's underground car-park to
entering the flat. It was a strange thing, Maisie thought to herself, to
lead a life of no clothes. None of her school-friends did that.

Inside the flat were more naked bodies: there were two girls with
shoulder- length hair lying on a sofa and idly playing with each other and
another girl watching television from a sofa. Only this other girl wasn't
so naked and she looked terribly young. In fact, as Maisie soon realised,
this girl was wearing only a tee-shirt, advertising a popular soft drink,
and only looked young because her body was so small and slight. She was
Japanese or Vietnamese or chinese or something. When Emma and Maisie
entered the living room, there was a sudden eruption of activity as the
girls jumped up to greet them. Maisie began to realise that none of these
people had seen much of Emma for a while and were asking her ever so many
questions about what she'd been doing and telling her about what they'd
been doing.

"And who is your young friend?" asked Josephine, addressing Maisie, who
not unnaturally was feeling rather out of place.

"Maisie," announced Emma. "Her name's Maisie. She's on the cast of St
Denis Street."

"I've seen that," said Susan rushing up and kissing Maisie tenderly on
the cheek. "You're not called Maisie on the program. Though I can't quite
remember what you're called. It's a very popular soap opera."

Charlotte was feeling rather overwhelmed by the arrival of the other
love in her life. And where was this teacher that Emma was supposed to be
living with? And what about this boss of hers? And what had this little
girl ... this naturist little girl ...got to do with anything? She'd not
been aware that Emma had ever had children. She soon pieced together from
the conversation that Maisie was this teacher's daughter and that because
her home was such a long way from the Harlot tv studios it made sense for
her to stay the night at the flat. Why did it make sense now and not
before? wondered Charlotte before being rushed off in the group towards a
chattering mass of anecdotes and recollections which surrounded the
preparation of dinner - which everyone had a hand in - and its consumption
over a bottle of wine.

Josephine and Susan were excellent with children - especially Josephine
who shared a child's enthusiasm for fluffy toys and for life in general.
Susan helped in her own way by being a sort of bridge between Josephine and
Maisie, and the conversation she was having with Emma. Emma was
affectionate as she'd used to be, and in fact was rather less tense than
Charlotte had mostly remembered. It was as if some load had been taken off
her mind.

She was even rather surprised to see that Charlotte was still shaving
her crotch. "There's really no need to do that for my sake!" she
exclaimed. "I'm really not worth such love!" Charlotte felt her old warm
emotions swell towards Emma as the conversation went on. She was right,
she said to herself, to have kept her loyalties to Emma.

It was not long until Charlotte's thoughts moved towards sex. She kept
her hands and arms on Emma as much as she could and was pleased to see that
Emma wasn't pushing her off. After the dinner, she and Emma sat together
on the sofa, their arms around each other, tenderly kissing each other's
face and breasts and talking intently. Charlotte allowed her hands to
wander down to Emma's crotch and was just about to start stimulating her
clitoris in the way that Emma had always seemed to like, when Emma abruptly
pushed her hand to one side.

"Don't forget Maisie!" Emma remarked pointing out the child who was
busily discussing computer games and pop music with Josephine and Susan.
Charlotte nodded and decided that it was probably best to wait until the
child had gone to bed, before she and Emma became more physically intimate.

When Maisie did go to bed though, in Emma's own double bed, Charlotte
was surprised to see Emma going to bed at precisely the same time. Emma
was not known for being the sort of girl who went to bed especially early,
but it particularly peeved Charlotte. She had hoped that she and Emma
would be going to bed together. Josephine could see that Charlotte was
disappointed, but as a faithful friend she let Charlotte herself take the
initiative in moving towards bed where Susan was already waiting. Susan
could also see that Charlotte was disappointed, and so it wasn't too
surprising that with both of Charlotte's lovers being so concerned about
her welfare that very soon all three of them were making intense love
together. And not too long until the flat was shaken by the sounds of the
three girls passionate cries - particularly those of Charlotte, who despite
her disappointment was still intensely excited by Emma's return to the
flat.

After a while, Charlotte, Josephine and Susan felt that they'd had
enough and lay exhausted on top of each other, the salt of Susan's sweat
dripping down her nose and into Charlotte's mouth, while Josephine's shiny
moist legs wrapped around Charlotte's own. It was at that stage that
Charlotte became aware of the sound of lovemaking coming from Emma's
bedroom: a sound at once familiar from the countless conjugal couplings
that her bed had been party to and unfamiliar because Emma had been so much
absent of late. But yes! it was lovemaking. And it was coming from
Emma's bed. There were the unmistakable gasps that Emma made when she was
at her most passionate and a thundering noise as her bed rocked repeatedly
against the wall.

Charlotte put a finger to her mouth and looked at Josephine with a
quizzical expression. "Who ...?" she mouthed.

Josephine smiled reassuringly and whispered, "There are two people
making noises in there."

"Two?" wondered Charlotte, but sure enough there was another relatively
squeaky voice also making sounds indicative of passionate love. "Surely
not Maisie..."

"She's very honest about her relationship with Emma," commented
Josephine, reminding Charlotte of who had been talking to Maisie all
evening. "It seems they've had a relationship for several months now,
which for a girl of her age will have seemed like forever."

"But how can Emma be making love with a girl who's basically just a
child?" wondered Charlotte.

"Don't worry about that," smiled Susan stroking the bristles on
Charlotte's crotch. "But I think you'll find that one bald crotch is
enough for Emma now."

Charlotte looked down at Susan's face peeking up cheekily from just
beneath her stomach. She couldn't help smiling back at the good humour
that Susan was emanating, and felt a peculiar feeling as a certain weight
of mystery about Emma's intentions and desires suddenly became lifted by
the light of Susan's illumination.

Josephine also smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Much as she
dearly loved Charlotte, she was aware of an element of deception in their
relationship. She knew that Charlotte didn't really have any lovers
besides herself and Susan - a situation basically unchanged since Emma's
return to the flat - but this didn't deter her from making love widely and
freely, and not just because her job required it. However, she appreciated
Charlotte's sensitivity on such issues better than Susan. She knew how
much Charlotte loved her, and also how much hurt it would cause her to know
that she might have made love to one or more men during the day. Josephine
also knew that her love for Charlotte couldn't possibly equal the intensity
of Charlotte's for her. Or even Charlotte's for Emma. This despite the
fact that since Emma had returned to the flat, she's spent virtually all of
her time with Maisie.

It felt strange to Josephine to be in the midst of so much love and
passion. It wasn't that she didn't feel love or passion herself. It was
just somehow less intense. Less exclusively focused. She rather
appreciated her own flat on the other side of town, where she would sleep
one or maybe two nights a week: often just by herself in amongst her cuddly
toys. It wasn't just Charlotte's love for Emma and herself, or Emma's
passion and jealousy of Maisie, there was also Susan, who was so absurdly
obsessed with Charlotte. Not that this prevented Susan from having sex
with men, nor if the opportunity occurred, either through her work or
otherwise, with other women. As a sex actress, her attitude towards sex
was extremely ambivalent, and although Josephine didn't share the same
feelings, she could see how it might be possible to feel passionately in
love with one woman, and still really enjoy sex with many other people
including, of course, Josephine herself.

Susan had made her worship of Charlotte into something of a religion.
Not just shaving Charlotte's crotch (which had now discontinued since
Maisie's appearance on the scene) but in the way she always brought
Charlotte breakfast in bed, fussed around her all the time and combed her
hair. Indeed, if Charlotte had allowed it, she would probably wipe her
arse clean after Charlotte had had a shit. Susan had even tried to
demonstrate the permanency of her love by getting a small tattoo put on her
upper shoulder with Charlotte written on the face of a red rose.

Josephine knew more than Charlotte of the intensity of Susan's passion,
as she was in the position of Susan's confidante. She knew that Susan
always fantasised about making love with Charlotte whilst making love with
other people. She knew that Susan claimed to have never truly loved anyone
else before. This was why previously she could only make love to an
audience, as a way of exciting her libido through exhibitionism. She knew
that Susan religiously spent half an hour to an hour each day masturbating
with a variety of sexual aids, concentrating her sexual passion entirely on
Charlotte.

Although Josephine knew that Charlotte was fully aware of Susan's love
for her (it was after all declared almost every day) she was sure Charlotte
wasn't aware of its intensity or its purity.

The way that Susan would selflessly sit aside to permit Josephine to
make as much love to Charlotte as her true love desired, and only
participated when her well attuned sexual instincts told her that Charlotte
was truly prepared. The way Susan would tirelessly watch Charlotte and
jump to attention whenever an opportunity to be helpful occurred. The way
Susan never betrayed, even to Josephine, the frustration and disappointment
she must have felt in not having her love reciprocated.

Josephine didn't have to go to work that morning. Indeed, the only one
who had to was Charlotte, and, with a little help from Susan, she'd been
packed off to work in her overcoat and sandals while Josephine was still
luxuriating naked in bed. In fact Josephine was really only stirred into
real wakefulness when Susan slid back under the sheets after slipping off
the kimono she habitually wore, lowered her hands down to her crotch and
began stroking her clitoris as she often did after bidding Charlotte off.
Josephine rolled over to watch Susan's fingers busy themselves around the
top of her vagina, while her other hand stimulated her nipples. She looked
up at Susan's face to gauge whether she wanted more than private pleasure,
but she knew enough by now that although she would probably have
participated with apparent enthusiasm in any lovemaking Josephine might
propose, most likely her preference would be to excite her imagination.

Josephine really didn't feel like disturbing Susan, so she swung her
feet off the bed, rubbed some of the detritus from her eyes and quietly
wandered off to the kitchen. When she got there, she noticed that she
wasn't the only one wanting breakfast at that time. The kettle was boiling
and a couple of mugs were standing prepared with teaspoons inside. Just by
the kettle was a bread board with a plastic bag of sliced wholemeal bread
and organic margarine. There also was Emma: her bare behind sticking
suggestively out as she leant over to look in the cupboards, quite as
beautiful from behind as from anywhere else.

Josephine heart leaped as the eroticism of Emma's posture struck her,
and, following her own desires, she picked up the margarine, fingered out a
scoop of it onto her forefingers and approached Emma. She tenderly started
stroking Emma's behind in the way she knew Emma would enjoy. At first Emma
started, but as she felt Josephine's practised caresses, she grunted
appreciatively, and relaxed as with one hand Josephine stroked around
Emma's buttocks and gradually eased open her cheeks. Then she brought her
other hand round and with a little force eased the margarine into the
squeeze between the buttocks, while at the same time exercising Emma's
clitoris and cunt with the other hand and kissing her neck from behind.
Then when Emma's arse was sufficiently greased, she pushed her fingers deep
inside her anus and pushed away from the rear while at the front pushing
harder and harder into Emma's vagina. Emma lay her hands against the wall,
surrendering herself to this unexpected erotic assault.

While Josephine was thus engaged and Emma's little gasps became more
throaty, she felt a hand brush against her back. It was Susan who was
smiling broadly and was handing her a rather long carrot. Josephine took
the hint, and while still stroking and exercising Emma's cunt, she
gradually eased the cool rough carrot into Emma's anus. As this was
happening, she felt Susan's hands grip around her as Susan herself began
stroking Josephine's vagina and then passionately kissing Emma full on the
mouth.

Josephine found that she who'd instigated all this was somehow in the
midst of it with Emma in front and Susan behind. Her senses began to swim:
partly from passion and partly from the strain of making love while
standing up on the kitchen linoleum. It didn't surprise her too much to
feel Susan's fingers probe deep inside her own backside, though her gasp of
pleasure surprised her when it erupted from her. "Oh Emma! Emma!" gasped
Josephine in great passion. "Oh! Charlotte my love!" whispered Susan a
little inappropriately. "Ooohh! Ooohh!" gasped Emma in little eructations
of ecstasy. "Where's the tea?" came a quite different voice.

Startled, Emma pulled herself free and looked at Maisie who had come
into the kitchen, naked as always, to see three much more mature but also
naked women indulging in sex with vegetables and margarine. "I'm hungry,"
Maisie complained rubbing her eyes with her little fists. She didn't seem
at all perturbed by the girls' intimacy, and in fact made no comment of it
at all as Josephine, Susan and Emma hastily disentangled themselves from
each other and shared in the task of preparing breakfast for Maisie and
chatting about the day ahead.

When all four were finally seated on stools by the breakfast table, all
naked except for Susan who had chosen to put some long socks on, Maisie
smiled broadly. "It was ever so funny watching you all buggering each
other," she chuckled. Josephine slightly whitened (it was after all she
who'd made it happen) but her reaction was as nothing compared to Emma who
visibly reddened from her brow to her breast and spluttered incoherently.

"Bububuggering?"

"That's what it's called isn't it?" Maisie continued, clearly enjoying
the embarrassment she'd caused. "I've often seen it on the telly. And
it's ever so clever that two of you were being buggered at the same time."
She leaned over as if to confide with Josephine. "Emma'll never bugger me,
although she often gets me to shove a dildo up her arse!"

"Maisie!" gasped Emma, who appeared outraged. "How can you talk about
private things with other people like that?"

"It can't be that private if you're doing it with the others!" retorted
Maisie. "And why can't I join in? Why is it you can have sex with Susan
and Josephine, and I can't? I think it's really unfair!"

It was Josephine's time to blush now. She looked up at Maisie,
incapable of saying a word, and looked for guidance at the even more
embarrassed Emma, who was smiling in a kind of helpless and uncertain way.
It was however Susan, impossible to embarrass on matters of sex or love,
who rescued the situation. "I'm sure Emma's got no objection to you making
love with either Josephine and me. And we'll be delighted to make love
with you. But not now, as you've got to be at the studio to rehearse
today, haven't you?"

"I suppose so," said the mollified Maisie. "But we will later won't we,
Emma? Won't we?"

"Sorry. What will we do?"

"Make love. Have sex. All of us. Together. You promise. Don't you?"

"I suppose so," concurred a reluctant Emma.

XVII





It wasn't often that Emma ever went out shopping. Normally she ordered
her groceries or whatever by television: selecting items displayed on the
screen and getting her account automatically debited. But it wasn't always
possible to get everything you wanted that way, and so, despite her
reluctance to wear any kind of clothing, she set off during her lunch time
to visit the shopping mall. Others may not have been convinced that Emma
was making a concession as she walked along wearing nothing but sandals and
a long skirt hanging from her waist, but even this minimum of clothing had
to be borrowed from one of the sex actresses in a production of updated
Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales that Emma was working on.

She eventually found the book shop she was looking for: one quite large
enough to have everything she might like to buy or browse. There were
several floors to the book shop, a cafe on the top floor from which she'd
once been evicted for immodesty and a crèche for children near the
entrance. Emma knew what she wanted though, and anxiously scanned the
displayed index of book categories to find it. After some deliberation,
she decided that Sex and family Matters was probably the right section.
Modern and Ancient Pornography, Sexual Art and Photography and Education
were probably not right. Eventually she found the section she was looking
for: very discreetly hidden in amidst Baby Care, Pregnancy and Teenage
Angst. The classic book of child sex : The Intimate Family.

The book was written by a Delia Cook, pictured naked on the back cover
with her arms around two naked children - a boy of about twelve and a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen - who Emma supposed were her own. The pictures
were taken full- frontal, in keeping with the whole spirit of the book that
was, as its flyleaf promised, frank and explicit. It also had a very coy
front cover giving no hint of what it might be discussing. Which of course
was entirely to do with practical incest and child sexuality.

Emma looked through the frontispiece:

"In these days people are always asking for practical and unsensational
advice with regard to leading a happy and harmonious intimate family life.
My intention is to provide readers with just this. I will make no attempt
to moralise or preach, but I have spoken to and taken advice from families,
and indeed individuals, who have practiced intimate family relations and
where appropriate I have broadcast their opinions and advice. Much of what
I discuss has, naturally, been based on personal experience, for which I
must thank my very understanding husband, and my two loving children.
Naturally some research has had to be done elsewhere, and again I have
tried not to shirk in my duties."

Emma flicked through the pages of the book, which was a very expensive
and weighty hardback. There was a mixture of line drawings and
black-and-white photographs supporting the text, which made the book seem
bizarrely academic. It was with a certain amount of apprehension that she
took the book to the cash desk because the reputation of the book was such
that it was pretty much a confession to the world that she practised either
incest or child sex. Or both.

However the middle-aged shop assistant who frowned so severely and
unsympathetically at Emma as she wrapped the book up as if it was a bundle
of dried faeces was less concerned about the book, of whose reputation she
was thoroughly ignorant, than about Emma's toplessness. In fact the eyes
that Emma felt like cloaked daggers as she walked along were not at all
aware that she'd even bought a book at all. Book shops were still places
where semi-nudity was generally confined to the book-shelf.

Emma knew that there was no likelihood that she'd ever be able to read
the book at home, where Maisie would be forever demanding her attention.
And even if Maisie were not there she still felt sufficiently embarrassed
about her relationship with her not to want to be seen reading a book on
the subject of such intimacies by her flatmate and guests. She therefore
walked to a nearby park, and sat down to read it as discreetly as she
could. She deliberately chose to lie down on her front on the warm summer
grass, so that her breasts would attract rather fewer in the way of
lascivious stares. How to Bring Intimacy into Your family was the title of
the next section she looked at. There was a line-drawing of a small boy's
erect penis being stroked by the hands of a substantially older woman.

"When and How to start intimate relations in the family is a tricky
question which I've often been asked. I think the honest answer to that
question is to ask the questioner just why they are asking the question. I
don't believe it is right to start an intimate relation with your nearest
and dearest unless the entire reason for doing so is to do with wanting a
fulfilling and close loving tenderness with them. And this is a view
widely shared by those I have discussed the subject with. It is quite
natural that as your children get older, you feel a stronger and deeper
affection for them, and only natural that you should want to express this
affection in the most intimate way possible. It must be remembered of
course that your children (and indeed others in your family) may not feel
that an intimate closeness should be quite as free and varied as you do.

"In particular, it is worth mentioning that once you have started on the
path of intimate family relations, it cannot be reversed. My daughter,
Jennifer, would not now contemplate a relation with her father that did not
include complete vaginal penetration - and already my son, Kevin, considers
time spent with any of his family that does not involve fellatio or
cunnilingus as wasted effort. But once started on this path, there is
undoubtedly satisfaction and joy that brings a family closer together. For
it is well said that the family that fucks together stays together."

After this preamble, there was a section which described techniques of
introducing oneself and one's children to the joys of sex. Throughout
there were constant warnings about going too far to begin with, because
this was a subtle and progressive process and as much attention must be
given to psychological preparedness as to the physical. As regards to the
physical, the advice was generally to do with precautions for anal
intercourse and, indeed, vaginal intercourse with the younger member of the
family.

"In the heat of the moment it is always possible to forget the
discomfort that your activities may cause to the younger or smaller
participant. As a general rule, do not start any kind of penetrative sex
until your partner actually requests it (and don't worry, he or she will in
due course: after seeing the fun other members of the family have!). Even
then judge your penetration appropriate not just to the age of the
participant, but to their previous experience and their physical
limitations. Even adult men and women may have very tight orifices, so
don't think those of children are going to be very different. The advice I
would tend to give is: Stick to the oral sex for as long as possible. The
younger child can get considerable joy from having his or her sexual organs
caressed by the tongue, and they will never tire of stimulating the older family member's organs - in particular the penis. A word of warning
however - it is possible for a child to choke on a fully erect penis, so to
avoid future distress in the family, gauge this behaviour appropriately."

Emma flicked through the pages until she came to a chapter entitled
coyly Other Families and Yours. This chapter concerned itself with sex
with other people's children and partners.

"It is always a delight to find that other families practice intimate
relations as well as your own, and our family for one has always enjoyed
inviting other families around for additional entertainment. Naturally,
one has to be conscious of the very different mores different families may
have. Martin, my son, was most distressed to find that the fourteen year
old daughters of a colleague of mine from the infirmary did not practice
either anal or vaginal intercourse. He'd protested that he and his sister had lost their virginity at a much earlier age. It was all that my husband
and I could do to prevent him from taking the poor girl's maidenheads. It
is after all the right and proper thing that their parents have the
prerogative on such matters. (If, indeed they feel, as my husband and I
do, that children's maidenheads properly belongs to those who have borne
them). The embarrassment has of course also been the other way, when the
ten year old son of a neighbour tried to urinate in my daughter's mouth and
wanted her to penetrate him with a dildo. I don't wish to proscribe such
behaviour (it is perfectly acceptable if all concerned are in agreement)
but our family has set its own limits."

Emma found all this very interesting, but she wasn't sure how especially
relevant much of it was to her relationship with Maisie. She turned to the
index to see what other sections there may be. This proved to be more
promising. There was a section on Single parents and the Single Friend,
Group Sex and Children, The Growing Child and Techniques for Appropriate
Physical Intimacy. Some of the illustrations showed various kinds of
intimacy, in which the two children on the flyleaf and some others had
penises and dildos inserted inside them, and others where the children were
shown applying their tongues greedily to clitorises, anuses and erect
penises. There was even a section concerning the swallowing of semen, with
a photograph of the girl, Jennifer, splattered with semen from several
penises of quite differently aged males.

However, this was Emma's lunch break and she had to get back to the
studio fairly promptly before filming was due to start. Emma closed the
book and discreetly slipped it into her bag. Guiltily looking around her,
she stood up and made her way back.

After work, Emma wandered into a nearby naturist cafe, where she knew
she wouldn't be disturbed as she sat down with a pot of tea and continued
reading Delia Cook's book. She wasn't too sure what she expected to
achieve by this exercise. She wasn't at all sure that her relationship
with Maisie really had a great deal in common with the typical
relationships described in the book. There was no real family intimacy
involved at all now that to all intents and purposes Maisie was no longer
living with her mother but was more or less a permanent resident at Emma's
flat.

She poured some milk into the cup until the tea went the right shade of
brown and, this time, managed to avoid the usual puddle of milk on the
saucer as it fell awkwardly out of its pot. She wasn't at all sure how
Maisie felt about sharing a flat with older women, but the girl never
complained and Emma was happy that she seemed to get on so well with
Charlotte's lovers, Josephine and Susan. In fact she seemed to get on with
them as if they were girls her own age.

Emma carefully flicked through the pages of her book - careful to
obscure a view of the cover from any prying eyes (though most eyes would
have concentrated on her naked body) until she came to a section about
gradually introducing a child to sex.

"It would not be for me to advise this for all readers - indeed many may
find it distasteful - but I recall one method that appeared to have
sterling results where a young girl was weaned from infancy not only from
the breast but from the penis. She soon came to associate the one with
milk and the other with semen. The justification is that semen is a very
nutritious, high protein addition to a child's diet. This may be so - but
it gave her father and other males in the immediate family a great deal of
pleasure which by all accounts was shared by the girl. It had the
additional benefit that whereas the breasts soon lose the ability to
provide milk, the penis remains productive for very much longer. When I
met the girl she was almost in her teens, but was delighted to entertain us
by demonstrating her skills at milking my husband's penis."

Emma found the subject of penises quite revolting, and flicked through
the pages to see if there was very much on the subject of love between the
younger girl and the older woman. There did seem to be a great deal about
penises however.

"There is a certain amount of impatience in all families to introduce
daughters and sons to the joys of anal sex. My own advice is that
generally it is best that one take advantage of the smaller but still
active organ of the younger male. In this way, novices of either sex to
the delights of such intimacy can be gently enticed towards it not
inconsiderable pleasures."

This section of the book was enlivened by a black-and-white photograph
of a boy's penis completely engulfed by an immature vagina, with the
caption: Martin demonstrates his gentleness with Jennifer.

Emma flicked through the pages while nonchalantly sipping from her cup.
She frowned disapprovingly at the faint smell of tobacco wafting from the
smoking tables at the far end of the cafe. Her eyes caught the heading
Naturism and Clothes Policy. This surely would be of interest to her, Emma
told herself, comfortably opening the pages open at a picture of Delia
Cook's family sitting in an open field having a picnic and wearing no
clothes.

"Different families have different attitudes towards what are the
appropriate clothes for the intimate family to wear. My own preference
(and one which I hold firmly) is that whether or not one is considering the
intimate family or just one's own contentment there is nothing that matches
a naturist disposition."

Emma warmed quite visibly towards Delia Cook at this piece of advice.

"However, there are those who for one reason or another believe that
naturism by its very simplicity and naturalness doesn't truly express the
nature of the intimate family as they themselves perceive it. And indeed,
this may actually be the more honest view of those who don't feel
completely comfortable in just their own nakedness. One family I know of
brought up the two sons such that until early puberty they dressed and were
made-up as girls. The boys had taken to it so thoroughly that one of them
opted to remain a transvestite into his adult years. The reason for this
preference was that both parents enjoyed the contrast of the boys' apparent
and actual genders."

Emma wasn't at all happy to consider such perversions, and flicked
randomly through the book.

"There comes a time when the intimate family has to fully face up to the
fact that the children have a life and friends of their own. In
particular, there is the necessity of being aware that many of their
friends will have a certain amount of unease and distrust concerning
intimate relations between those whose family bonds are so tight. It is
therefore necessary for the parents and even the siblings, at least
initially, to exclude themselves from any physical intimacy (even those
which are not penetrative or do not involve bodily fluids) unless expressly
invited to join in. It is to be hoped that in a well-adjusted family that
soon all the family will be able to share in the physical pleasures offered
by the friends of one's children. In fact some of my best intimate
experiences have been in the company of my children and their school-
friends once the stigma that some children attach to fucking Mummy has worn
off."

The distinct impression inculcated on Emma from reading this book was
how natural and normal child sex and incest seemed. Why, she wondered,
didn't everyone try it? She looked around her at the naked bodies of other
people in the cafe, and spotted a mother and father with two children.
They were both girls about seven or eight years old. Emma tried to
envisage the family making love together. She concentrated on the image of
the father's penis rammed inside the younger girl's immature vagina. She
really didn't find the image at all pleasant. She then thought of her own
parents (whose naked bodies she'd so rarely seen) and the thought of them
having any kind of sex with her at any age (and especially at the ages they
were now) really didn't inspire any desire in her at all.

Emma turned to the final pages of the book where the publishers
advertised the other books that they published in their series of sex
manuals and treatises. At the head of the list was InterSpecies Lust,
which promised to be a book which revealed the truth of sexual practices
between people and animals, particularly in agricultural communities, and
gave discreet advice on the practical problems that participants might
confront. Another book was entitled Faecal Fantasy, and as its title
suggested it dealt with the benefits and health hazards of a sex life that
included defecation and urination as standard features. Some of the books
seemed fairly tame in comparison: TransSexuality for Pecuniary Gain,
Suicide and Sex, The Extended Sexual Partnership and Computer Stimulated
Sex : Better than the Real Thing?

Emma didn't feel inclined to buy or even read any of these books - and
having seen enough videos in her job concerned with sex of every kind she
had a fairly precise knowledge of what it might be that she would be
missing as a result. However it did force her to concentrate her mind on
what it was that she considered to be desirable in a relationship. And the
only image that sprang to her mind was of Maisie's naked body stretched out
below aching for Emma's tender caresses.

XVIII





It had been a long night, Josephine reflected as she opened her eyes and
squinted at the shaft of light streaming in through the window and the
specks of dust floating in it. A long night! After all the rehearsals
going on beyond midnight and then the inevitable hour or so at a night-club
with the rest of the cast, where they danced naked to the vibrations of
loud music and the rainbow of visuals to lose the smell of sex from their
bodies. At the earliest hours of the morning, when Josephine had recovered
her clothes from the cloakroom and stood on the street waving down a taxi,
it was inevitable that she would choose to stay the night with Charlotte.
She'd crept in, using the keys that Charlotte had lent her, and eased
herself gingerly under the sheets next to the entwined bodies of Susan and
Charlotte. She could just about distinguish a pleased smile of
satisfaction on Susan's face - who had presumably had sole possession of
Charlotte that evening.

Josephine was rather surprised, however, to learn how late it was when
she awoke and glanced at the clock which indicated just how late in the
morning it was. It was past midday, and Josephine was in bed alone with a
residual hangover from the drinks and sleeplessness of the previous day.
Charlotte had gone off to work and Josephine wasn't at all sure where the
others in the house were. Perhaps she was in the house alone, she thought.
She pushed off the sheets and as she stood up glanced at the bed where
there was still an indentation from where Susan and Charlotte had been
sleeping. Josephine leant over and carefully removed a dark pubic hair
lying there. She then wandered naked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast
(or was it lunch?) and heard the murmur of conversation coming from the
living room.

She popped her head through the door where she saw Susan and Maisie
talking together. "I'm making some tea," she announced. "Does anyone else
want some?"

Susan looked a little startled as she'd been engrossed in her
conversation and hadn't expected anyone else to be there, but she quickly
assented and Josephine was able to return to the kitchen with a mission in
hand. When she returned to the living room several minutes later with a
pot of tea and some tea-cups she noticed for the first time that Susan was
holding Maisie's hand in hers and looking directly into her eyes. This
didn't mean a great deal to Josephine as Susan was an extremely tactile
girl. She was wearing long woollen socks and a tee-shirt with the name of
the Modern Dance Quartet emblazoned over an impressionist painting. As
always she was the only one in the company wearing any clothes at all.

"Emma's at work, isn't she?" Josephine asked as she poured out the tea
into the cups which she had already prepared with milk.

"Yes," Maisie answered, smiling brightly. "It's the first broadcast of
a new Quiz Show she's commissioned. It's something to do with recognising
your partners from only seeing their willies or fannies. I think the
winners get to fuck one of a choice of studio guests."

"That's sounds nice. So there's no work for you?"

"Not today." Maisie leaned over and picked up her tea which was in her
favourite Minnie Mouse mug. She looked directly at Josephine's chest and
then commented abruptly. "I love your tits, Josephine."

Josephine's cup wobbled on the saucer which supported it. "My tits?"
she wondered aloud.

"Yes, they're so nice and round. They're so much bigger than Emma's.
She's got nice tits too. They're round with nice nipples. But yours are
rounder and your nipples are sort of twice Emma's size. I wish I had tits like yours." She took a small but rounded nipple in her fingers and stroked
it so that it became more firm. "But Mum's breasts aren't as big as
Josephine's. And they're not even as nice as Emma's. What about your
tits, Susan?"

"I've got ever such tiny breasts, Maisie."

"Why's that?" Maisie asked freeing her hand from Susan's hand and
leaning over to stroke the outside of Susan's tee-shirt where the breasts should be. "And why can't you show them like everyone else?"

"I've always wanted bigger breasts," smiled Susan in a matter-of-fact
way, which surprised Josephine who'd never heard her express any feeling of
inadequacy about her appearance. She tugged off her tee-shirt and revealed
just how very small her breasts were. Maisie stretched both her hands out
to feel Susan's breasts.

"They're not much bigger than mine," Maisie commented. And this was
true as Josephine knew. The nipples were larger and when erect it was
obvious that Susan had the body of a woman - but the breasts supporting
them barely raised a shadow of contour on her quite slim body. Maisie
continued to run her fingers around and around Susan's nipples, and then
with a determined lunge she pulled herself forward onto Susan's chest and
started nibbling at them. Susan gave a slightly startled expression, but
then contented herself with stroking Maisie's hair as she covered her chest
with saliva and tiny tooth-marks.

Josephine was a little startled by this. She knew of Emma's sexual
relations with Maisie, but really spent very little time imagining them or
really thinking about Maisie as a sexual creature at all. She watched
slightly alarmed as Maisie's and Susan's intimacy gradually but
progressively became more intense and Maisie's tongue wandered down to
Susan's clitoris which she nibbled while her hands still caressed Susan's
nipples. Susan was clearly enjoying this, giving tiny little gasps of
pleasure as Maisie explored her body.

Susan placed her hands on Maisie's head and drew it upwards. "We must
go to bed," she stated baldly. "It's more comfortable."

Maisie nodded and stood up while Susan removed her socks.

"Only if Josephine comes too," suddenly negotiated Maisie looking
towards Josephine who was sitting down in an armchair watching the
proceedings with rather more fascination than most of the lovemaking she'd
witnessed in the flat.

"Of course Josephine must come," smiled Susan gliding over to her and
causing her to abandon her cup of tea and direct her towards Emma's
bedroom. Josephine felt curiously virginal as she found herself heading
towards the bed where Susan and Maisie were sprawled and had recommenced
feeling and cuddling each other.

Josephine knelt down at the foot of the bed near where the two girls'
feet were and gradually worked her tongue up from Maisie's beautifully
formed feet, towards Maisie's bald and smooth vagina. She examined it
carefully between her fingers while Susan's vagina engulfed almost all of
Maisie's tiny hand. And as her fingers and tongue probed inside she could
see signs in the slight reddening of it that might, she thought, provide
evidence that as far as some kind of penetration was concerned Maisie was
not exactly a virgin.

As their lovemaking continued, Josephine came to explore all of Maisie's
body with her hands and tongue. The small taut arse, with the tiny anus,
the swelling mounds of breasts, the detailed maze of Maisie's ears, the
tiny teeth around Maisie's ever-active tongue. She felt overwhelmed by the
experience of making love to such a young girl. She didn't however attain
the multiple orgasms that shook Susan's slim little body or the slightly
less practised ones that burst from Maisie on occasion. But somehow this
didn't matter at all.

"I'm home!" Josephine suddenly heard. Who could this be? She glanced
at the Betty Boo alarm clock Maisie had by the side of the bed between a
tiny promotional teddy-bear for Cooper's Lentils and a plastic model of a
dinosaur. It was gone four o'clock. She, Maisie and Susan had been making
love for at least three hours.

"Where is everyone?" shouted Emma's voice from the living room. "Where
are you, Maisie?"

"We're here!" called back Maisie, her head between Susan's legs and her
own cunt just by Josephine's mouth.

Emma pushed open the door. "So there you are darling!" she announced
initially cheerfully, supporting a parcel in her arms as she stood
silhouetted by the door. Then she must have gathered what was going on.
"But Maisie ..."

"Guess what we've been doing all afternoon!" announced Maisie. "It's
been ever so much fun!"

"You can't have! You shouldn't have!"

"But you promised, Emma! You did! You did!"

Emma suddenly ran out of the room. Josephine jumped up out of the bed
to follow her. She found Emma's naked body hunched up in a chair in the
living room, tears running down her face. Emma looked up as Josephine came
in, conscious that she must still smell strongly of sex.

"Why! Why?" asked Emma.

Josephine silently reached her hand towards Emma's naked shoulder to try
and comfort her. Emma threw it off instantly. "Don't touch me!" she said
aggressively. She glared reproachfully at her would-be comforter. "I love
her! I love her!" she repeated.

"It's not a question of love..." Josephine began, embarrassedly aware of
the presence of Maisie and Susan in the room with their arms around each
other. Emma also noticed this, and with a sudden hoarse gasp, she jumped
up and ran out of the room. The next thing that Josephine heard was the
front door slam as Emma hurried out of the flat and raced down the
apartment corridors.

"But she promised..." weakly commented Maisie, tenderly stroking the
bush of hair of Susan's crotch.

XIX



Charlotte didn't know exactly what had happened, but all of a sudden her
relations in her flat had altered and undoubtedly for the better. For some
reason, Emma had started being a great deal more affectionate towards her
and nowadays the two girls were more often sharing Emma's bed at night than
enjoying any other arrangement. Charlotte had noticed that Maisie had
started sharing her own bed with Susan and, when she was visiting,
Josephine. Charlotte guessed (although she never witnessed it) that
somehow Maisie's affections had transferred to Susan. Certainly, it was
far less often that Emma and Maisie shared the bed together, and it was on
those nights that Charlotte would get to sleep in her own bed.

Charlotte to a certain extent understood and appreciated why Susan's
uncomplicated and straightforward personality was more comfortable for
Maisie than Emma's. However, Emma could not accept that and still made
great show that Maisie was the real love in her life despite the passionate
nights that she spent with Charlotte. Maisie herself took the curious
attitude that it was Emma who was her girlfriend but that Susan was just
best friend.

This may have suited Maisie: it certainly suited Charlotte who was
pleased to have so much more of Emma's attention than she'd ever had
before. And it didn't appear to concern Susan who still loved Charlotte
with the same selfless and tireless devotion.

Despite spending most nights in Emma's arms, Charlotte would still be
awoken by Susan who now prepared breakfast for both lovers and, of course,
Maisie who sometimes accompanied her in the morning. Susan continued to
wash and bathe Charlotte each morning and offered to extend the courtesy to
Emma, who discourteously refused the invitation. She made a point of
polishing Charlotte's shoes, washing and ironing her clothes, and, often
with Maisie clinging onto her, declaring her undying and unquestioning love
for Charlotte. "It's only you I love. You are the only thing that makes
my life worthwhile," she would say, taking every opportunity to kiss
Charlotte's body.

"If she loves you so much, why does she sleep with Maisie?" sniffed
Emma. Charlotte didn't wish to counter, as she so well knew, that it was
always, and without exception, Maisie who decided who she would sleep with
or make love with. The evenings were often a very curious battle of wooing
between Maisie's girlfriend and best friend, where both Susan and Emma for
different reasons would try to entice Maisie to sleep with Emma. But
almost always, Maisie would stay with the girl who gave so much passion and
demanded so little analysis of her affection.

In the meantime, Charlotte benefited as Emma's lover, if a substitute
lover for the child; even if, Emma made sexual demands of Charlotte of an
intensity and a violence that she almost certainly never made of Maisie.

Indeed they were of a nature that Josephine only rarely agreed to make
love with Charlotte if Emma was there. "I can't do my job if I'm covered
in bruises and scratches!" Josephine complained. She clearly preferring
the company of Susan and Maisie, though she never discussed with Charlotte
whether or not she also made love to the little girl. Charlotte's own body
often carried bite-marks, bruises and scratches which Susan would
uncomplainingly nurse and sometimes apply make-up to, prior to Charlotte
going to work. Sometimes Susan would locate wounds that Charlotte never
suspected, as when she found a trickle of blood from Charlotte's anus which
Emma must have inflicted the previous night with that rubber truncheon
she'd acquired from somewhere.

However much Susan tried to cover the evidence, Charlotte's love-life
couldn't be hidden from her colleagues at work. This, as Charlotte soon
appreciated, was a distinctive downside to working in a naturist
environment in such close proximity of others. One of her colleagues,
Malcolm, had clearly taken a very strong fancy to Charlotte, and she was
quite pleased in a way that the evidence of her love- life appeared to
preclude his attentions. He was a skinny young man whose desk was
positioned across the office but generally faced her direction. He was
always very solicitous towards her, but he didn't have quite the control of
his penis he should have had. This was clearly another disadvantage of
naturism which women didn't need to worry about. Malcolm's penis very
rarely appeared totally erect, but erect enough for Charlotte to be sure of
what he was thinking and his acute embarrassment served only to make it
more apparent.

There were particular occasions when he had especial difficulties with
his loins. The first was when Charlotte started shaving her vulva for
Emma's benefit. This was later matched when Charlotte allowed it to grow
long again. And more recently, the more obvious bruises and scratches that
Charlotte had acquired in her lovemaking seemed also to excite him. After
a while Charlotte made a very determined effort whenever Malcolm was in the
proximity to hide bruises on her thighs or around her cunt, or toothmarks
on her neck or her nipples. Sometimes, like the time when Emma had somehow
managed to blacken Charlotte's eye and has left a very obvious lovebite on
her shoulder, this could not be obscured by documents she could carry or
the shadow of her desk.

Charlotte had made a new friend at work, Becky, who introduced her to an
aspect of life that she'd never suspected much before.

Charlotte had always been a middle class girl - and had really only ever
known people like herself from similarly middle class backgrounds. Becky
however was a junior clerk whose social circle mostly included car
mechanics, supermarket checkout assistants, factory workers and restaurant
staff. In her social peers she was considered at least as odd as Charlotte
might be by hers, because not only was she a naturist, which was strange
enough, but she worked in an office. Becky had quite clearly worked hard
to get where she was and really had few ambitions to go further. She was
sufficiently self-reliant to be a naturist when none of her friends were.

"Well, I'd been on holiday abroad," she explained. "And everyone was
going round starkers. At first I though it was weird, but Stan, my
boyfriend, insisted I go starkers too. So we both went round starkers.
And I really liked it. So when I come back home I decided I'd go starkers
as much as I could. Some of my mates and some of my family don't like it
much. But I'm not a loony naturist. I'll put clothes on if people are
going to be upset. But I just don't wear a thread most of the time."

"And that's why you're working here?" Charlotte prompted.

"Exactly," Becky confirmed. "There aren't that many office jobs you can
do in the buff, are there?"

Becky's attitudes to life seemed reassuringly uncomplicated and
unapologetic, which contrasted favourably with Emma who had to express an
opinion on eating meat, wearing clothes or buying certain ideologically
unsound products. On the other hand, Charlotte soon began to understand
that in her own social group her Becky's attitudes made her a bit of an
outsider.

"We might be down the pub, and Stan'll talk about how I'm a nudist. How
I going round in my birthday suit in the office all day. And all the
lads'll laugh. And one of them's bound to say: 'But what's she like stark
bollock naked?' And Stan'll say: 'There's no bollocks about it!' And
they'll all laugh. But whatever they say, before you know it they'll have
all my clothes off, and I'll be there going red while they poke me and
fiddle about with me. And this won't be in places where you're meant to be
naked. And then my clothes'll go missing. And I've got to go home in the
cold, with goose-pimples all over me, and everyone staring and laughing at
me."

Becky was quite a short girl - barely five foot tall - slightly round
and shapeless but not exactly fat with nipples which were almost of the
same pinkness as the rest of her flesh and barely distinct from the rest of
her breasts. Despite being a naturist, she'd somehow managed to avoid
acquiring a tan, and remained a kind of pale pink, which contrasted with
her mousy brown hair which she wore in a bob. Between her legs there was
the smallest triangle of pubic hair obscuring what couldn't be a particular
large vagina. Charlotte generally thought of Becky as being roly-poly, but
this was without her being particularly fat: it was just that her figure
mostly suggested the curves of a feminine figure rather than outlined them.
"After Stan and his mates go out for a drink or bowls or whatever, - it
doesn't matter if I go with them or not - when they come back he's always
demanding that I get them cups of coffee and get beer out of the fridge.
And then they'll all either take turns at fucking me or do it all together.
Stan's always saying that I give good fucks, and he always wants his mates
to know it. Sometimes there'll be three or four fucking me at the same
time. I don't know who's doing what. It's all pricks. Sometimes when
they bring a girlfriend or two along they'll join in. They'll be fucked by
the lads, and sometimes they get her to sort of play around with me."

Charlotte knew that Becky had an active sex-life, because Becky often
carried the bruises and love-bites to prove it, but she'd assumed in her
middle class way that this was more a testament to the strength of her
relationship with Stan.

"Do you like girls making love to you?" Charlotte wondered.

"I know what you think!" laughed Becky. "Because you're a dyke! Sorry,
lesbian! I'm not a dyke and neither are these girls dykes. It's just the
lads think its great fun to watch girls doing it together. And I suppose
it's some fun, but I prefer a good fuck. Then you know you're getting the
business. And if it's up the arse-hole and up the fanny at the same time
then you really feel the earth move."

"And your boyfriend actually encourages his mates to make love to you?"

"Well, it's only fair. I mean often he's not back late himself. If he
comes back at all. And that's when he's been to a mate's house. And he'll
have been fucking his mate's wife or girlfriend. It's just what people do.
I know you educated people don't share things like that much, but it's just
what people I know do. And Stan'll tell me all about these girls he's
fucked. 'She was fucking skinny' or 'She had awful fucking floppy breasts'
or 'She smelt like something the cat brought in, and even worse after we'd
all fucked her senseless'. None of the girls seem to have been much good -
and I suppose that's why he always comes back home to me. If it's not just
habit of course. But I know that what he says about these girls is what
his mates say about me after they've been fucking me. 'She's not got much
of a figure!' 'She's got a tight cunt!' and of course they'll all say
'She's a fucking nudist! She's always fucking stark cunt naked!'"

XX



As time went by Emma saw less and less of Amelia and her secretary,
Betty, although she'd been assured that she still could expect a passionate
welcome. Perhaps this was because her relationship with Maisie had become
too full-time for there to be any need for extra company. Perhaps it was
because every time she went to meet Amelia she was always far too busy, if
she was in the office at all, and only Betty, if she wasn't herself
preoccupied, was ever available to see her. Indeed, her sexual sessions
with Betty became less tender on each visit, and Emma suspected that Betty
had lost interest in acting as a surrogate for her mistress. This was
particularly so considering that Betty was not really very interested in
women at all, and when the novelty of sex with Emma had worn off she became
much more perfunctory in her love-making.

Now, however, as the different relationship between Emma and Maisie was
changing (and not that much to her liking), there was a new need or desire
to meet Amelia. Much as Emma loved Charlotte, and very flattered by
Charlotte's love for her, her best friend could never be quite the same as
her darling Maisie. Charlotte was really only a friend rather than a
lover. A close friend, that was true, but a friend nevertheless. The few
nights she slept with Maisie no longer seemed to have the same meaning and
passion it once had, although Maisie still insisted that Emma was her
girlfriend and Susan was just a friend. In fact, Emma suspected that it
was only because Susan actively encouraged Maisie to sleep with her, that
they ever shared the bed together. And Emma also believed it was because
of Susan's ridiculous unrequited passion for Charlotte.

Emma gingerly knocked on the door of Amelia's office and wandered in to
see Betty daintily tapping away on the keyboard of her desktop computer.
She'd taken off the jacket of her suit to reveal her satin lace bra
underneath. "Oh hello, Emma!" She said sweetly. "Do you want to see
Amelia?"

Indeed Emma did, but really only for her company. She sometimes yearned
for those long legs that stretched out for so long. And she loved her
memory of those voluptuous breasts that she'd not so fully enjoyed since
their first night.

"Amelia's free at the moment, so I'll take you in." This was almost more
than Emma had hoped for. She'd got used to Betty, successfully hiding her
reluctance, offering her body in Amelia's stead. Betty took Emma into
Amelia's study where she was lying on her back on a divan reading a
manuscript wearing only her stockings. When she saw Emma, she jumped up
with a spring and a smile and kissed Emma full on the mouth. "Come in!
Come in!" She said, leading Emma towards the divan. "And you, Betty, come
over here!"

This was definitely more than Emma had hoped, as Amelia pushed Emma flat
out on the divan and starting licking her body with her tongue. She
directed her mouth towards Emma's vulva, and Emma felt the warm wetness of
saliva entangle with her pubic hair. "Don't neglect me, Betty!" Ordered
Amelia, at whose prompting her secretary undid her bra to reveal her
unaroused nipples and moved out of sight of Emma in the vicinity of
Amelia's rear. Emma caught a glimpse of Betty's face as it appeared
briefly between Amelia's legs and then she saw her finger stimulating her
mistress's clitoris. Emma ran her fingers through Amelia's mess of hair as
her head bobbed up and down.

"I need more than this!" Complained Amelia, sitting up on her knees
causing Betty to slide away.

"Do you want one of these?" Asked Betty producing a dildo.

"No! Not good enough! Call Frank in!"

Betty then stood up and left, putting her jacket over her naked breasts as she went out. Amelia continued exploring Emma's vagina and anus,
putting fingers deep inside both orifices, so that Emma could feel them
pinch together inside her. She felt so wonderfully moist in that area and
moaned with excitement. She then felt another object besides fingers
inside her, which she was sure was just a dildo. But she looked up to see
that a naked man's erect penis had taken advantage of her nakedness and had
thrust straight inside her vagina.

"Stop! Stop!" Cried Emma pushing him off and sliding off the divan onto
the floor. "I don't want one of those things inside me!" She picked
herself up and stood to one side as Amelia, Betty and this naked man,
presumably called Frank, stared at her in apparent astonishment.

"I thought you'd be delighted, Emma dearest!" Said Amelia soothingly.

"No! Never!" Cried Emma in alarm.

"But it's the real thing! Not a dildo! And I know you've had plenty of
those inside you!"

"I just don't like them!" Emma sniffed.

"Well, I hope you won't mind as Betty and I take advantage of Frank's
charms. He's a top notch sex artist you know!"

Emma just didn't want to know, but out of politeness she sat on a chair
while Frank made love to both Amelia and Betty. He never seemed to tire.
Nor did he ever come despite how many orgasms he'd apparently engineered in
the two women. Emma had never seen Betty express so much passion. She had
stripped off all her clothes and offered her anus as freely as her vagina.
Finally Frank seemed to have reached a certain point and withdrew his penis
from deep inside Betty's arse. It was quite a long penis: not the longest
Emma had ever seen on set, but longer and thicker than the average. It was
shining with moisture, with the veins pulsing with engorgement.

"He's about to come!" Announced Amelia. "How about on you, Emma!"

"What did you say?" Wondered Emma, as she stared at Frank's penis.

"Go on, Frank!" Ordered Amelia. "Show Emma what no dildo can do!"

Frank walked over to Emma holding his penis in a strange way to restrain
his excitement, and then with no warning, from more than a yard away, he
ejaculated and his semen splattered onto Emma's still sweaty breasts. Emma
looked down on the viscous liquid with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

"And there's more, Emma! More!" announced Amelia, walking towards Emma
and Frank. "Touch it! Go on! Touch it!"

Emma felt compelled to obey, and gingerly put a finger on Frank's penis
which immediately jerked with mechanical excitement.

"Put your hand right round it!"

Emma obeyed and felt the hot warmth and pulsing energy of Frank's prick.
And then all of a sudden it erupted with a further spurt of semen which
spurted onto Emma's wrists and hands. It felt very warm and very very
sticky.

"See what you've been missing!" Laughed Amelia, in a way that Emma
really didn't believe was particularly kind or sympathetic.

XXI



Occasionally, Emma and Charlotte would meet together after work at a
naturist cafe a short walk from their flat. It was not a particularly
large cafe, and Charlotte often found it a little too cool for wearing no
clothes, but it was a very intimate place and Charlotte enjoyed sitting
with Emma just holding her hands and sometimes gazing into her beautiful
eyes. Sometimes, the clientele were entertained by a musician who would
sit naked on a chair playing a guitar and singing. Sometimes he might be
accompanied by a woman who would stand naked beside him and sing along with
him. More usually, however, the only entertainment was a panel of
televisions tuned into a naturist television station and that was the case
tonight. The sound was usually turned down so there would only be the
visuals to be enjoyed, and these were not generally informative in the case
of soap operas or comedies.

Emma was so much sadder these days. Charlotte knew why, but she still
hoped that she would forget her obsession with Maisie and focus her love
more on the one who was sitting next to her and who would do anything
(whatever it might be) for her. Of course, she'd hope that Emma wouldn't
mind sharing her with Josephine, but after all she'd become accustomed to
sharing Emma with so many others! Emma however hardly ever touched on the
subject. For her, there was nothing to discuss with Charlotte about
personal relationships. Indeed she'd usually discuss quite neutral matters
of interest or some of the productions she was organising at the Cable
Television Station.

The two drank only a little beer before making their way home to the
flat, with Charlotte thinking only of making love to Emma and holding her
naked body as close to her own as she could and still manage to walk
together. When they got to their flat and had opened the door, Emma no
longer called out for Maisie as she used to do, as it would only remind her
that she was probably at that moment enjoying close intimacy with Susan,
and possibly Josephine. They wandered into the living room where the
stereo was broadcasting some of the saccharine pop music that Maisie
enjoyed but there was no one there listening.

"They're probably all in your bed again," sniffed Emma. Charlotte
smiled. She'd have Emma to herself tonight.

But when she opened her bedroom door she saw no sign of any people or
any of the disarray of sheets that accompanied lovemaking. However she
heard voices coming from Emma's bedroom. That was most unusual. Susan and
Maisie usually never made love in Emma's bed unless Emma were there.

Charlotte wandered over to Emma's room where Josephine, Maisie and Susan
were spread out naked together on the bed. Emma sat on an armchair by the
side of the bed. Maisie was talking quite earnestly to Emma and her lover
was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "It's silly. Josephine loves
Charlotte. Charlotte loves you and Josephine. Susan loves Charlotte, but
Charlotte isn't so bothered. You love me. And I love you. But I love
Susan too. It's too complicated and it's very upsetting." Maisie put her
arm around Susan who inclined her head onto Maisie's shoulder. "So Susan
said to me that she didn't like how sad you were getting and that she'd
rather not sleep with me, so that I could sleep with you every night like
we used to. But Josephine said that Charlotte won't like that because she
likes sleeping with you. Isn't that so Charlotte?"

Charlotte nodded. This was peculiar perspicacity coming from such a
young child.

"So what are you saying, Maisie?" asked Emma.

"Well, I want to make love to everyone," announced Maisie. "I want to
make love with Susan, my best friend. I want to make love to you. I want
to make love with Josephine. And I'd like to make love to Charlotte, who
I've never made love to."

"So," continued Josephine, "Susan and Maisie thought that there ought to
be less jealousy and envy and that everyone should sleep with everyone else
every night. Then if I want to have sex with Charlotte I can. And if you
want to make love with Maisie you can. And if Susan wants to make love to
both Maisie and Charlotte then she can. And the way to do that is to put
both the beds together to make one big bed."

"How are we going to do that?" wondered Emma.

"We simply move Charlotte's bed in here, and move some of your furniture
into her bedroom and then everything's fine," announced Maisie
triumphantly.

There was a lot more discussion on the various aspects of such a new
arrangement, but it was difficult to argue with it's essential fairness so
before long the girls started moving beds and furniture around the flat.
After a while the exhausted girls were lying together on a pair of
double-beds that was nearly twelve feet across, and crammed out all
remaining space in Emma's bedroom. Maisie seemed particularly tired as she
laid her head down on Emma's lap while Emma stroked her hair. Susan and
Josephine sat by Charlotte who lay on her back looking at the light- shade
and considered the implications of the new arrangement. The aspect which
most concerned her was that although everyone had made love with everyone
else, she had not in fact ever made love to Maisie. She'd always thought
of child sex as a perversion, but now she'd found herself in effect
agreeing to it. Was she wise to have done so?

She felt a third body creep up between her legs and apply a tongue to
her vulva. Charlotte lifted her head up to see who it was, half-expecting
to see that it was Maisie, and consequently not being so surprised when she
found out that it was. Maisie had clearly been thinking the same thing,
and was now wanting to find out what Charlotte's body tasted like. She put
her tongue deep inside Charlotte's vagina and then traced it around her
clitoris. Charlotte lifted herself up to have a look at what the child was
doing, while Susan and Josephine discreetly detached themselves from her
and climbed over the mattresses towards Emma who was now sitting alone.

Maisie swivelled her body around with Charlotte beneath her, such that
Charlotte's mouth was on Maisie's crotch. She'd never looked so closely at
a child's crotch before. It was undeniably beautiful. She leant forwards
to nuzzle it with her nose, but she wasn't sufficiently supple to apply any
more of her face to it. So she contented herself with stroking it with her
fingers and exploring its contours. Just as she was beginning to feel
comfortable with this, she was joined by Emma who, joining in the spirit of
sharing, pulled her face up to Charlotte's and applied her tongue to
Maisie's anus and the base of her vagina.

And then all became lost in a mass of bodies as all five girls bundled
in. At any one time Charlotte might be addressing the flat breasts of
Susan or the fuller ones of Josephine. She'd be licking Maisie's crotch or
Emma's much hairier one. And at some stage she felt the familiar sensation
of a large object entering her vagina. She looked round to see who it was,
and it was in fact Maisie who was dwarfed by the dimensions of the dildo
she had strapped around her waist and thrust in and out of Charlotte's
cunt. Maisie had clearly had some practice in this, but was by no means the
expert that Susan was when it was her time to ply the dildo into her.

The evening continued as a mêlee of bodies, which eventually calmed down
and the five girls lined themselves up underneath the sheets. Charlotte
had Susan on one side of her and Maisie on the other. Then beyond Maisie
were Emma and Josephine locked together in an embrace with Josephine just
above Emma complaining about the roughness with which Emma had been
exercising her body.

Charlotte luxuriated in the warmth of the two bodies on either side of
her, and contemplated whether this arrangement would, in any way, make
everyone so much happier. It seemed to make Maisie and Susan happier, but
Charlotte knew that Emma and she were quite different people. She felt
that part of the joy of love was in fact the very exclusivity which this
new arrangement was so actively denying.

"It's alright for you, Charlotte, because you're a lesbian," Maisie was
saying a few days later. She was sitting naked on the rug in front of the
television, facing Emma, Charlotte and Susan who were sitting with their
arms around each other on the sofa. "And it's alright for you, Emma,
because you don't like men. And you get it all the time in your job,
Susan. But I just don't get anything!"

"I still don't see what you want to make love to a boy for," continued
Emma, who was visibly distressed at the idea of her Maisie being fucked by
anything so vulgar. "You've got the three of us: and Josephine when she's
here. We make love almost every night. Why do you want more?"

"Because it's natural. Because it's what girls are meant to do.
Because it's what all my friends do. It's not fair! Just because you
don't like it, you think I shouldn't have it myself. I want to be fucked
properly. I'm still a virgin, and none of my friends at school are."

"That's only what they say, Maisie dear," said Susan reassuringly.
"Girls will always boast about how much sex they've had. You know, I
wasn't fucked until I was nearly fifteen years old. But I used to tell
everyone I'd been fucking. And I didn't enjoy it at all at first."

"I don't care!" said Maisie adamantly. "I want a proper fuck. And I
want it now!"

"But why do you want it with Oliver?" wondered Emma, despairingly. "Of
all the boys you could've chosen, why him?"

Oliver was the boy that Maisie was adamant she wanted to take her
virginity. He was a boy about sixteen, and therefore old enough to appear
on the screen making love. However, he didn't confine his lovemaking to
the studio set, where he was undoubtedly very good at his craft. He could
often be found in the company of other women and girls around the
television studios, his naked buttocks moving rhythmically up and down as
he fucked and fucked.

Even Emma wondered where he got his enthusiasm for. And he had no sense
of privacy. It didn't matter who was around, he would choose a girl and
before long there the two were fucking together. Even in front of his
mother, who sometimes came to the studios, he'd choose an actress or any
other girl and fuck her. He appeared to show no discrimination whatsoever.
He would choose girls and boys, women and men, of almost any appearance and
any age. Was this the boy, Emma asked herself, with whom she'd entrust her
darling Maisie's virginity? What would Dorothy think, if she heard that
her sweetest daughter, who she so rarely saw nowadays, was going to
sacrifice herself to Oliver's metronomic thrusts.

However, Maisie was adamant, so Emma found herself consigned to the
distasteful task of approaching Oliver and inviting him to visit Maisie and
she at the flat. She found him lying naked with another boy with their
arms around each other and a positive stench of post-coitus just outside
the studio set of a Sex Science Fiction series. She had nothing to do with
this production which seemed to be nothing more than an excuse for large
breasted women in leather thigh-length boots to indulge in sex with men dressed in monster costumes. She supposed that Oliver's role might be to
act as one of the monsters, but she didn't really care enough to find out.

Inevitably, when Oliver found himself addressed by Emma he immediately
assumed that she was trying to solicit sex with him. Emma sternly put him
off the idea and averted her gaze from his penis which had instantly sprung
to full erectness.

Oliver was surprised to be told that a girl he didn't really know was so
keen on him. He'd seen her on the set of the soap opera and he'd seen her
in Emma's company, but he'd never really thought more about her than that.
He knew that she was too young to've been filmed in any act which was of an
overtly sexual nature, and he may have guessed from her general shyness
with boys that she'd not even had televisual sex for foreign consumption.

Emma had to escort Oliver to the flat, who wore a pair of lycra shorts
and a cycling jersey, and who seemed to feel that Emma's habitual nudity
was some sort of an invitation for sex games. "Don't!" reprimanded Emma
slapping his hand off her thigh. She also found his conversation
terminally dull: concentrating as it seemed to do mostly on sex, sport and
violent films. So it was with great relief that Emma was able to leave
Oliver in the company of Susan and Maisie while she prepared dinner for
everyone in the kitchen.

Charlotte and Josephine were out together at the cinema, so Emma felt
utterly abandoned in the flat with the company of the other three. She
wasn't too surprised to see Oliver fucking Susan in the living room with
Maisie watching when she popped her head in to see if they would like to
start drinking some wine while waiting. "It doesn't take that slut five
minutes..." Emma found herself thinking uncharitably as she returned to the
kitchen.

Emma didn't enjoy the dinner with them either, as she sat watching
Oliver regale Maisie with his horribly crude jokes and unsubtle sex
stories; and observed Maisie lapping all this with apparent veneration.
But she felt obliged to stay with the company to be witness to Maisie
losing her virginity.

The idea was that after dinner, Emma would sit near Maisie to comfort
her while Susan took the camcorder and videoed Oliver and Maisie fucking
together. This was so that this important moment in Maisie's life would be
recorded for posterity. However, it was with great difficulty that Emma
and Susan dissuaded the two younger ones from leaving half-way through the
dinner to just get on with it. It was distressing for Emma to see the food
that she'd prepared and planned so meticulously being wolfed down with such
little regard. And the wine she'd spent hours choosing was treated with
absolutely no respect.

However, the real ordeal was to come. Susan trained the camcorder at
Oliver and Maisie who lay on the large double-beds in Emma's room with
Maisie to one side of Oliver, while Emma sat on the other bed looking at
Maisie's eager look of anticipation with alarm. And then it began, while
camcorder whirred on with Susan moving around to focus on what seemed to
her, with the experienced eye of the sex movie actress, the most important
actions of any one time. The foreplay really took very little time at all.
Then Oliver was straight into Maisie's vagina and pumped away at her
unromantically. Emma had to sit back and bite her lower lip to restrain
herself from pulling the two youngsters apart.

In the hour or so of lovemaking that Susan recorded (and played back the
following day in front of Josephine and Charlotte), Oliver went through the
whole range of sex movie cliches. What was worse was that Maisie was
enjoying it with incredible and noisy abandon. There was the missionary
position. Then Maisie on top of Oliver. Then Maisie sucking Oliver's
penis, while he tongued her vagina. Then finally there was the inevitable
anal intercourse, which Emma had hoped Oliver would restrain himself from.
But there was no shame, and Maisie was keen, so Oliver pushed himself as
deep into the not particularly large anus as he could, which process
clearly inflicted some pain on Maisie. And that was that. Then Oliver had
to be driven home by Emma back to his mother and his home in the outer
suburbs.

"Did you enjoy all that?" wondered Charlotte incredulously as the video disintegrated into a mess of unintelligible squiggles.

"It was great!" said Maisie enthusiastically. "I'm not a virgin any
more. Not back nor front."

"And are you seeing this chap - Oliver - again?" Josephine queried
amiably.

"Well, I'll be seeing him," Maisie admitted. "And I might fuck with
him. But it's not going to be serious."

"Why's that?" wondered Susan.

"Because," said Maisie with the ingenuous naïvete of a child, "I'm not
in love with him. We might make love. But that's all. It's you and Emma
I'm in love with."

"And besides he's ever so vulgar!" chipped in Emma cheerfully.

"No," reflected Maisie. "I'm sure he's not that. He was ever so
interesting to talk to. And he's seen What the Dickens! live. I'd love
to do that. Their concerts always sell out really quickly."

XXII



Harriett's travels around the world through her work meant that she knew
hardly at all how life was at home at the flat. The long and detailed
letters she received from Emma and less often from Charlotte were always
several weeks late and usually forwarded from the last location she'd
worked at. For instance, she might send a postcard home from her current
location which could be Kabul or Phnom Penh, and then receive a letter from
Emma which might have been posted to her last or her last but one location
(which might be Banjul or San Salvador). Neither Emma's nor Charlotte's
letters were particularly detailed on the subject of their love-lives.
Indeed this seemed to be the one area about which they were both most
reticent in their correspondence, but this didn't trouble Harriett. Nor
did it in any way dissuade her from filling most of her letters with
detailed accounts of the sex she'd had with men and women in the course of
her travels.

She had developed a strong relationship, including frequent sex, with
the director of the Sex Abroad series she was working on. Isabel had
started her career as a sex actress and as a result had once opted to have
her breasts surgically enhanced. Apparently they had been of good
dimensions before, but her chest now consisted of nearly fifty inches of
very firm breast on a body otherwise of quite slender proportions. Other
parts of her body had also been surgically enhanced, but so expert were the
surgeons that for all Harriett's exploration of Isabel's body she couldn't
be sure which parts they might have been. She had not really made her
fortune as a sex actress, as apparently she was not a natural when it came
to frequent and indiscriminate fucking; but she had kept her career within
the world of sex entertainment and was now a director of many television
productions. She was in her mid-thirties, but certainly didn't look
particularly old nor were her breasts showing any sign of sagging.
However, they were sufficiently large to oblige her to keep them uncovered
most of the time, while directing the set or in her leisure time, because
of the discomfort that most clothes caused to them. She was not a naturist
though unlike several of the others involved in the production of the
series. She almost always wore a skirt, shorts or trousers; and frequently
sun-glasses and a straw hat when it was particularly warm.

The Sex Abroad series was one of a number of productions Isabel and
Harriett worked on together as they travelled with the production crew from
country to country. Both enjoyed working together, just as they enjoyed
making love together (although both would deny any claim to being lovers or
of being lesbian). They enjoyed staying at expensive hotels, usually in
the same suite, and planning the logistics of each production. This almost
always involved Harriett making love to a native from whichever country
they were in . This was sometimes a famous personality, but more often
just a sexually fit representative of the population. Usually this
consisted of no more than heterosexual coupling, but in some locations it
was necessary to show more explicitly the peculiar customs of that
particular country. In Korea where there was a cult of boys being
surgically altered to take on the physical appearance of women, it was
necessary for Harriett to make love to a few of these transsexuals. She
most enjoyed those whose penises were still fully functioning. In
Tajikstan, it was necessary to have group sex with several women. In
Somalia, Harriett enjoyed sex with children of about nine and ten of both
sexes, - but this would probably not be screened on Semen South West.

When Harriett and Isabel were not working on the actual filming of these
various sex acts, the two of them would plan together what was required for
the programmes. Often, Harriett would have sex with the designated
partners to determine the best angle for the performance. Isabel would
watch, making suggestions and very occasionally participating, particularly
where the sex star was a well- endowed man. Sometimes the two of them
would practice together, with Isabel playing the role of the other partner
to establish the optimum erotic presentation of the scene. Harriett also
kept herself fit by regular work-outs at the gym in the various hotels they
stayed at, or by jogging around the city. In some places naturism was
obligatory, (such as El Jedida in Morocco, Nerja in Spain or Darwin in
South Africa), which made her jogs more comfortable, but meant that Isabel
couldn't participate as her breasts bounced around too much. Harriett kept
her body as slim and trim as she could: something Isabel mostly achieved by
drugs or surgery.

Sometimes while shooting a scene, Isabel felt obliged, as the director,
to intervene to enhance Harriett's performance. She would wade into the
mass of bodies in the physically demanding positions that were required and
add lubricant to Harriett's anus or position her clitoris into a better
view for the camera. This was not a role that a director was ever really
required to do (there were members of staff whose role was specifically to
help in stimulating the sexual performance of the film stars) but she felt
that the closeness of her relationship with Harriett made this intervention
more natural and sensible.

It was no secret to other members of the film crew that Harriett and
Isabel had a close and loving relationship and the two women made no effort
to obscure it from them. Isabel frequently grabbed Harriett by the vagina while on the set to feel how sexually active she was feeling. On occasion
the two women would hold each other close to each other with Isabel's large
naked breasts wholly obscuring Harriett's much smaller, trim ones, and
indulge in kissing for several minutes at a time. Sometimes on set, Isabel
chose to join in the action and have herself fucked by the man who was
fucking Harriett. Occasionally, this was discreetly incorporated into the
final cut. On the whole however, the two kept their relationship on a
professional level on the set, and didn't indulge (as some directors and
their principal stars are known to do) in a series of programmes featuring
the two of them, and their various guests, indulging in on-screen sex.

Some of the film-crew envied Harriett's closeness to Isabel. It was
undoubtedly a boost to her career, and one which could lead to her becoming
a director herself. No one could deny that Harriett worked hard on her
performance, and Harriett's own professed ambition was to produce her own
Sexual Fitness videos which would pass on techniques and practice sessions
that she'd used to keep herself at the peak of her sexual performance. The
thought had occurred to some that she could become a professional in sex
sport events, but even Harriett didn't want to become that closely tied to
competitive sex.

Harriett made great efforts with the film crew to dispel their feelings
that she was somehow too distant for the likes of them. She made a point
of having sex with all the men and women on the set; sometimes with Isabel,
despite her director's disparagement of such close ties. "It doesn't do to
have sex too often with amateurs!" Isabel said, characterising herself as a
professional. Harriett understood what Isabel meant: most of the cast were
simply incapable of bringing her to a satisfactory orgasm and often
incapable of restraining their own sexual relief however well Harriett used
her skills to control them. However, Harriett soon became aware that the
film crew were generally happier not to have to concern themselves with
comparing themselves with a professional and preferred the less skilful sex
they had with each other.

Harriett and Isabel enjoyed behaving as tourists in the exotic places
they stayed, happy in the knowledge that nobody would recognise them as
they might at home. In some cities of stricter sexual ethics, such as St
Petersburg, Perth or Salt Lake City, their appearance, and particularly
that of Isabel's large naked breasts would attract stares and occasionally
even comment. In other places of freer sexual ethics such as Goa, Bali or
Florida, they almost felt conservative in bothering to wear clothes at all.
Or in not having sex in the street like so many other tourists. But Isabel
felt that it was necessary as ambassadors of Semen South West to retain
some respect for the natives of the country they were visiting.

XXIII



Near Emma's and Charlotte's flat was a news agent where the girls and
their friends often went to buy newspapers, milk, magazines, sweets and
food, as it was one of these news agents that stayed open long after the
supermarkets closed. It was a fairly modest shop, with a standard
selection of alcoholic products and the full range of magazines, cigarettes
and sweets that one would expect. The owners were an asian family who
invested all their time and money into the enterprise and in which all
members of the family were meant to contribute some effort. Amna was the
eldest girl in the family and now she had finished her schooling with
fairly mediocre qualifications, she had no excuse for not helping out in
the shop in the evenings or other times for the not particularly handsome
remuneration she received for the effort.

Amna's families were Muslims, but not especially strict ones. She
wasn't require to cover her long thick black hair, and her parents didn't
object too strongly to the blue jeans she wore which always seemed rather
too tight on the hips constrained inside. Her fondness for tight jeans
often caused her grief as Amna was especially hirsute, not just in the form
of the black hairs along her arms and legs which were nearly hidden against
the darkness of her Bengali skin, but in the thick pubic hair which spread
from the end of her anus to nearly her navel. Her white knickers were
almost swamped by the thick luxuriance of it. Fortunately, her full round
breasts didn't share in her general hairiness, but it was they that
attracted most comment from her parents as she continued to grow out of her
previous bras and blouses. Her clothes struggled to contain them.
Frequently she was advised to put on a loose sweater or pullover to obscure
them.

The young girl was fascinated by Emma's friends' visits to the shop.
Emma herself didn't visit so often herself, but her presence was always the
most memorable as she wore so little in the way of clothes: usually nothing
at all to hide her breasts and sometimes nothing to hide anything else.
And whatever she wore always seemed like it had been thrown on in a hurry
and often fit her extremely poorly. Although Amna looked forward to Emma's
visits with particular interest (as she was the one who promised most in
terms of potential thrills), it was Emma's flatmates that Amna enjoyed
most. Emma was never very chatty and always seemed to have her mind
somewhere else.

Charlotte and Josephine were always very civil, and often exchanged
opinions on the weather. The two girls paid her more attention than most
visitors, and Josephine was especially tactile. She'd often be holding
Charlotte's hand and on one memorable occasion Amna watched the two of them
lost in a passionate embrace. Their tongues were deep in each other's
mouth and they only stopped when another customer entered the shop. There
was also a little girl, Maisie, who wore almost as few clothes as Emma and
smiled at Amna in a cheeky direct manner which often disturbed her. She
would often be holding the hands of whoever was accompanying her to the
shop (she never came by herself) and often gave her companion a kiss on
whichever part of the body or face that was most easily available. Maisie
was most often accompanied by Emma who on these occasions had all her
attention focused on the little girl and showed no ability in preventing
her consort spoil herself on whatever comics, magazines or sweets the girl demanded.

The customer who Amna looked forward to the most, however, was Susan
who, right from the first time she came in to the shop, established her
presence in an easy relaxed way. She chatted with Amna with great
familiarity as she discussed what wine to buy, and with no embarrassment
whatsoever spoke of her work in sex cinema and the parts she had to play.

"Are all your friends in sex cinema too?" wondered Amna, who felt
somewhat both shocked and titillated by the idea. Her image of sex cinema
had been taken from the magazines on the top shelf of the magazine rack
which showed men and women having sex with each other in great explicit
detail, or the listings she'd read of sex television or sex movies.

"My friends?" Susan queried.

"The other girls you come into the shop with," Amna explained, feeling a
bit embarrassed at revealing her interest in her customers' affairs.

"Goodness no!" Susan said. "I'm the only one in sex cinema. Although
all of us except Charlotte work in the sex industry to a certain extent."

"It must be a strange kind of job," Amna commented visibly envious of
the more exciting life led away from the counter where she would swivel
around on her chair near the till seeing nothing more of life than
customers and their money. The most exciting aspect of her life was that
she was able to unzip her jeans and pull them down her thighs to ease the
pressure her hips and stomach exerted on her waist aware that none of the
customers would notice a thing.

"Is it something that you're interested in doing yourself?" Susan
wondered sympathetically.

Amna shook her head nervously. "I've just never thought of it. It just
seems something other people do. I don't know if I could..."

"Oh! It's simple!" smiled Susan. "You really don't need to be
particularly skilled at acting or anything. All you've got to do is like
sex. I mean, you enjoy fucking don't you?"

"Well, of course!" laughed Amna who'd never had any sexual encounter
with anyone. She'd never really considered it, and she'd always thought it
was one of those things that only became possible when one left the
protective embrace of the family. On the other hand, the idea clearly
excited her as testified by the warm heat rising from between her legs as
she discussed the matter.

"So," continued Susan, "It's not a problem. A girl like you - with your
kind of body and appearance - shouldn't have any difficulty getting into
sex cinema. Is it something you want to take up? If it is, I'm sure I
could help."

"Could you?" asked Amna. Then realising that sounded a bit like a
request, she corrected herself. "You could?"

"Well, there's an audition for parts for asian girls coming up soon,
which I'll be going to. Now, I don't know what it means by Asian. Do they
mean Indian, Slavic, Oriental or Arabic? I don't know! They might mean
the lot. I don't know when the audition's coming up, but if you like I'll
keep you informed and we could go together."

"Well, that sounds interesting," said Amna curiously excited by the
idea.

"In that case, I'll keep in touch," Susan announced, leaning over the
counter and kissing Amna tenderly on the lips. She then pushed out of the
shop in her long white tee-shirt loosely belted around the waist. In the
echo of the shop door ting, Amna watched her go across the road with a
newspaper under her arm and felt a sudden uncomfortable rush of heat to her
head. She wasn't sure that it was the prospect of working in sex cinema
which caused her ears to burn and heart to pound at the base of her throat.
Somehow the idea normally left her somewhat cold. Although she'd often
masturbated to the images in the sex magazines she sold and had read
articles on sex actresses with some attention, it left her feeling quite
indifferent.

She didn't really wish to admit it to herself, but what had left her in
a state of frantic bewilderment, and why she suddenly felt committed to at
least auditioning for this sex film, was the brief kiss she'd just
received. She'd only been kissed before by relatives and family, and never
before had it felt so good, so warm and so much something she wanted again
more and more. And from Susan in particular.

The time eventually came when Susan presented Amna with details of the
time and place of the audition. It was a film with the unpromising working
title of Hot asian Lovers, for a film company with the unappetising name of
Sextasy Stars, but as she'd already expended so much effort fantasising
about and masturbating to the image of appearing in a sex film with Susan,
Amna didn't feel capable of backing out even at this stage.

"You've never been to an audition before, so I'd better tell you some of
the basic rules," elaborated Susan kindly. She gave advice as to how to
dress. This was essentially to reveal her assets to their best advantage
before and during the audition. Amna should ensure that she didn't obscure
her cunt from view at all. "You'll find that all sex actresses, including
me, discard their knickers and anything else covering their cunt while
still in the reception room. As your breasts are such an obvious asset,
you needn't actually display them, but you mustn't obscure them in any way.
A blouse a size or two too small will be quite adequate."

The part of the exercise that filled Amna with the most trepidation,
however, was not the actual audition. She considered this to be an ordeal
best get over as quickly as all the unsuccessful interviews she'd had for
office jobs. In fact, it was the prospect of going to Emma's flat in the
building opposite the shop. She didn't tell her parents about the nature
of the job interview she was going to and wore her most revealing clothes
underneath an overcoat. She set off up the lift to the flat after a girl whose voice she couldn't distinguish over the intercom let the door to the
building open with the buzz which released the latch. She was let into the
flat by Charlotte who smiled at her reassuringly, and stood in the hallway
waiting while Susan was getting herself ready.

She could hear panting and thumping noises coming from the living room
that she at first ignored. Her first thought was that it was someone
exercising, as her brothers did to give themselves the full muscular figure
they found so attractive. However, when Charlotte opened the door to the
living room as she passed Amna from the kitchen with a sandwich she'd just
made, she could see the little girl, Maisie, and Josephine enmeshed in the
position the sex magazines called a sixty-nine, with Josephine rather
straining to bend her neck round to apply her mouth to Maisie's smooth
little vagina. The two of them were making passionate cries as they pushed
their tongues deep inside each other's welcoming crevices. Amna watched
their activity with horrified compulsion, seeing in her mind's eye the
vision of what she imagined Susan's vagina might look like.

After a few moments, and what seemed like much more, Susan appeared,
thick in make-up in a dress pulled tight against her skin and confirmed
what Amna had always suspected: which was that she really had no more
breasts to speak of than Maisie had. She ran her fingers down the length
of her body to smooth the creases to the top of her thighs where the dress
just about stopped. "We'd better get going, dearest!" She announced. "We
don't want to be late."

As the two of them were escorted in the taxi which Susan ordered, and
insisted on paying for, Amna listened as Susan explained in great detail
the little tips her years of experience had taught her would maximise her
chances of passing the audition. These amounted to appearing to enjoy the
audition by making more noise than necessary, ensuring that her cunt was in
view of the auditioners as much as possible and, in Amna's case, running
her fingers as frequently as possible over her breasts. Amna nodded to
each of the items of advice, not really listening but admiring more the
smooth white skin of Susan's shoulders and the little dimple in her cheeks
whenever she smiled.

There were several other women at the audition, most of whom were asian like herself. There were Punjabi, Afghani, Malaysian, Vietnamese,
Cantonese and Inuit candidates, all of whom, as Susan had advised, had
taken their knickers off before leaving the reception room, and sat in the
bare plastic chairs supplied in stockings, bras, vests or, like Susan
herself, in nothing at all. Amna felt quite overdressed in her blouse
which she pulled up and knotted to reveal as much midriff as she could.
She didn't know how encouraged she should feel by her own assessment that
of all the women there that despite her inexperience she was actually one
of the most physically attractive. Not the most attractive, she felt,
admiring Susan's slim white body with the nipples only a little more
prominent than those of a young boy and the patch of pubic hair that was so
much sparser and shorter than Amna had imagined, having visualised it as
more resembling her own pubic splendour.

The first part of the audition consisted of the auditioners, who were
men in their forties in expensive clothes and beards, outlining the plot of
the film the details of which sounded thoroughly disgusting to Amna when
her mind wandered away from anxiety about the appropriateness of her
appearance, the bushiness of her pubic hair (which was so much greater than
that of anyone else) and her admiration for Susan's body. She barely even
noticed that throughout this process Susan held her hand reassuringly in
her own, until she felt a little squeeze on her thumb as one of the men detailed that there was actually no particular policy as to exactly which
kind of asian women would be suited to the film. "We know there is a
market for asian sex which is not really adequately exploited, and we want
to have as broad an appeal as we can manage."

The audition passed in a haze to Amna, as she took most of her cues from
Susan who kept a kind eye on her as they went through the motions. It
started fairly amusingly as each of the girls stood up in turn and spun
around while fondling their bodies with simpering smiles. As Susan
suggested, Amna undid her blouse almost fully so that she was able to pull
her breasts out and reveal the full lipsticked nipples that she'd carefully
massaged into shape. Some of the other girls were even less expert at this
than her: especially the Inuit whose movement was decidedly wooden and
raised a slight frown from the producer.

The next part of the audition was the part Amna had dreaded the most,
which was the occasion in which, unknown to everyone, she was to lose her
virginity. It was quite a painful process for her as a large muscular
Persian man whom she'd never be able to recognise again plied open her legs
and pushed his quite large penis in and out of the hairy mass of her
vagina. She'd never believed that it would be so painful, and the cries
she'd started making on Susan's advice first to suggest pleasure, became
much more genuine and much louder ones of pain. Fortunately nobody seemed
to be able to distinguish them from the quite theatrical cries that some of
the others released. However, the Persian seemed a little puzzled by the
blood that had painted his penis as he released ejaculations of semen over
her breasts after several minutes of fucking.

Amna was able to watch Susan as she was fucked by another man, who was a
slightly overweight black man who never bothered to remove more than his
trousers and underpants. Amna admired Susan's professionalism which was
only matched at all by an Afghani girl who despite her skill at fucking had
an unattractive grey pallor to her skin and droopy thin breasts. Susan
took control of events and was able to bring the black man to a more
satisfying ejaculation than Amna's Persian had ever achieved, catching some
of the semen in her open mouth.

The part of the exercise that Amna had most thought about in advance and
which more than the fucking had filled her with trepidation, was the
lesbianism. "Let it be with Susan!" she'd begged to herself. "Not with
anyone else! It must be Susan!" The urgency of her request became greater
after the pain she was feeling between her legs which made her feel as if
she'd been viciously punched there and then had her insides torn out of
her. Unfortunately for her, it was actually the Afghani girl whom she found
herself allocated to making love with, while Susan was wrapped up in the
body of the Vietnamese girl. Amna watched in envy as the Vietnamese girl pushed her tongue deep into Susan's anus while Susan responded by pushing
her fingers deep into her vagina and stroking her clitoris with her thumb.

The Afghani girl had a skill at making love that somehow compensated for
the salty taste of her skin which Amna licked with badly disguised
reluctance. For the first time, Amna felt she was getting some pleasure
out of the sexual proceedings, as the girl tweaked her clitoris in her
fingers and licked up the traces of blood that had got caught in her hair.
It felt quite pleasant to have someone's nose deep in the mass of her pubic
hair even though it gave her much less pleasure to stick her nose into the
unpleasant smelling area of the Afghani girl's anus which seemed to have as
much hair as that around her vagina. But it was genuine cries of pleasure
she was able to emit as her lover pushed first two and then three fingers
into the fleshy and not yet elastic opening of her cunt.

XXIV



It was a long time since Emma had been summoned into Amelia's office.
In fact, Emma had rather avoided seeing Amelia altogether since she'd been
persuaded to have sex with Frank, whom she could never pass in the corridor
without breaking into a hot flush. So when Emma received a call requesting
her to come immediately to Amelia's office, it was with great trepidation
she followed Betty in her prim suit along the television corridors towards
her office. She hoped that it wasn't for another opportunity to humiliate
her with the attentions of a man.

Her fears were rather confirmed when she heard the panting noises of a
man making love as Betty let her into the office and then stood discreetly
to one side. However, it wasn't Amelia the man was making love to. She
was sitting on a swivel chair in nothing but her stockings and shoes
resting her full breasts on her folded arms. Her fear gave way to horror
when she realised that the girl with whom the man was having sex was
Maisie. And worse, she was quite obviously enjoying it.

It was no novelty to see Maisie making love. Susan and Josephine would
often be enmeshed in her slim little limbs, more often than not on Maisie's
own request. But it was not pleasant for Emma to see her beloved being
fucked by a man older than Emma herself and participating so vigorously.

"She certainly seems to enjoy Bill's attention," commented Amelia with a
sly smile, as Emma stood transfixed at the door.

Emma nodded shyly. Just what was this in aid of? she wondered.

"I don't suppose you want to join in, Emma," Amelia continued. "I'm
sure little Maisie wouldn't mind at all."

Knowing Maisie so intimately, Emma was sure that this was true, but the
pangs she felt made her blush with anger and humiliation. "What's this all
about?" she blurted out. "Why is she doing it?"

Amelia stood up and wandered over to Emma. She put an arm around Emma's
naked shoulders and pulled her assertively towards her. "Because she wants
to, lovie. Because she's been asking to have a more active acting career.
Because she believes it's about time she moved on. So, she's showing me
what she can do. And I must say that for such a young girl she shows
evidence of both skill and considerable experience."

"But why are you showing me? Why have you called me in?"

"Because," smiled Amelia in a way that seemed quite menacing, "I have a
proposal to make to you. And one I'm sure you can't refuse."

"One that I can't refuse? Why me? What have I got to do with what
Maisie wants to do?"

Amelia squeezed Emma firmly across the shoulders and allowed one of her
hands to fall on Emma's nipples which she gently massaged. "It is no
secret to me - or to anyone else who works here - what sort of relationship
you and Maisie have. Indeed, the young child has told me a great deal
about the activities she gets up to: not only with you but with others who
live with you. Activities which I find very interesting. Activities which
I'm sure others would find even more interesting than me."

"What do you mean?" blurted out Emma, aware that this wasn't really a
question she wanted answering.

"I don't wish to say more, lover," Amelia continued, bringing the palm
of her hand underneath the cup of Emma's breast and idly weighing it.
"What I wish to speak about is my proposal."

"What can that be?" Emma wondered, still transfixed as Bill's penis went
in and out of Maisie's sweet little vagina, while the child clung hard to
his waist and made frequent ejaculations of pleasure. Try as she would,
she couldn't remove her stare from what caused her most distress.

"Face me and I'll tell you!" commanded Amelia turning Emma around to
gaze into Amelia's amused eyes. Emma was still uneasily conscious of the
theatre behind her as she could hear from Maisie's ecstatic gasps and the
slosh of vaginal juices. Amelia relaxed her grip on Emma and allowed her
to stand back secured by her hands in hers'.

"It's not a disadvantageous proposal. Indeed, I'd say it's one which
most people working her would fight tooth and nail to be offered. I've had
the most spectacular sex with employees for much less! But since it
involves dear little Maisie as well as you, I thought it better to discuss
it with the child here."

"But surely not like that!" winced Emma to the sound of her child
lover's passionate cries.

"It's best that we fully understand ourselves," Amelia said by way of
explanation. She ran her hands up Emma's arms and then down her waist to
secure a grasp at the top of her hips. "You've heard of Delia Cook, I
believe."

"Well, yes!"

"She's successfully broken taboos of acceptability that were once
thought unbreakable. And she's done so by being so very reasonable and so
very sensible. Thanks to her, the subjects of child sex and incest which
would have been forever neglected are now open to healthy, frank and open
discussion. She and her fat motherly body are no strangers to television
interviews on sex television and even mainstream television. There she is,
in such a reassuringly ordinary and homely way pushing out the frontiers of
sexuality. And she does it so well! Don't you think?"

"Ye-es?" queried Emma. What had this to do with her?

"I help run a sex television station which has only recently been
awarded its fourth X. Quite an honourable position! But I want to do
more! I want my station to be in the vanguard - the avant-garde - of sex
broadcasting. And it's in you I invest my hope." Amelia paused for
dramatic effect, while Emma felt distinctly unwell from both the pressure
of Amelia's caresses and the sound of Maisie's continued orgasmic
ejaculations.

"You are the future of this station! I was most impressed by your
principled and professional advocacy of this station in the recent campaign
for our fourth X and I would like your services - and of course your
prestige and salary - to further increase in the promotion of the station.
What I would like is for you, and quite naturally your delightful young lover, to further the success of the station by presenting a television
series that will present items which are quite deliberately on the most
extreme edges of acceptability in your own very sensible and reassuring
style. I want you to interview sado-masochists, paedophiles, transsexuals
and others and, naturally, show them in action. And most of all I want you
to make love with Maisie for the program every week to show the world how
healthy and loving a child-woman relationship can be. To show the world
that it is a natural and fulfilling love which shouldn't be disdained and
reviled, but should be understood and, if not emulated, at least seen."

"You want me to make love to Maisie in front of the camera...?"

"Of course, my love!" smiled Amelia, kissing Emma full on the lip with a
very toothy smile. "I want full, uncompromising sex, using whatever props
you feel appropriate, with as much passion as I know you're capable. I
want the two of you ejaculating and orgasming with the freedom and abandon
to which I know you're accustomed. I want as many people as possible to
see what a sexual animal you are, and the uses and abuses you put both
Maisie's and your own cunt to!" Amelia forced her lips straight onto Emma's
own and kissed her fully, allowing her tongue to explore the crevices of
her molars, with more passion than Emma had ever experienced from her
before. "And I know you'll agree. Not just because your non- compliance
could stunt such a promising career, but also because you just don't know
who else might be chosen as a co-presenter with your so very willing young friend!"

XXV



Amna wasn't sure how she felt when she received her letter from Sextasy
Stars telling her that she'd been successful in the audition and asking her
when she could start coming in for rehearsals and script for the film.
When she learnt that Susan had also been accepted for a rôle in the film,
however, she decided, perhaps recklessly, that it was a well-paid job which
she'd be really stupid not to accept even though it meant being extremely
wary about giving her parents a good idea of what the job actually
entailed. She also knew that she'd still be expected to work in the shop
when time allowed; and this was a responsibility she'd not be able to shirk
whatever other work she was doing.

However, the unsavoury nature of her work meant that she felt rather
less happy about staying at home with her parents and continuing to share a
bedroom with her two younger sisters. She'd actually resisted any
suggestion of moving away from home before. It was much more secure than
anywhere else and she liked the luxury of having her food prepared for her,
her laundry cleaned for her and indeed everything else being done for her.
On the other hand, she'd felt uneasy enough on just the audition coming
home smelling so obviously of the smell of sex. She'd rushed straight into
the shower and spent ages scrubbing off the evidence and worrying about the
damage so recently done to her body. She felt around her vagina with an
anxiety she'd never felt before for signs of worse damage than she'd
originally anticipated. If she was to be coming home regularly with this
kind of anxiety, how soon would it take her parents to realise that she
wasn't working as a clerical temp in a small accounts' department? And how
much opportunity did it give her mother to actually fulfil her well-meant
promise to visit her at work to see how she was.

Her Aunt Salim was a good Muslim. She covered her hair in a head-scarf
and all her body was covered by a long discreet dress, which was not
unstylish but designed more to hide than to flatter. Amna wasn't sure that
Aunt Salim was the best person with whom to live, but her aunt had often
made the offer, and now seemed the appropriate time to accept. She hoped
that her aunt had been sincere in her promise that she just wanted company
in her three-bedroom house and would leave Amna alone as much as possible.
And anyway, despite her unambiguous religious devotion, she was very
pleasant and easy-going, making the effort to show interest in the sort of
things that Amna enjoyed.

Aunt Salim was also a woman who seemed a little apart from the rest of
Amna's extended family. She was quite a distant aunt (several times
removed) and was in fact was not wholly Asian. Her mother or father had
bequeathed her with paler skin, lighter brown hair and far more freckles
than anyone else in the family. This alone constituted quite a severe
differentness, but even now, in her early thirties, she hadn't got married and didn't even have a fiance. She had quite a nice home, however, which
she'd bought partly from family money, but mostly from her salary as a
systems analyst in an insurance company. Quite clearly her employer was
not one who expressed prejudice about employing Muslims.

Amna soon received permission from her parents who nonetheless expressed
reluctance to see her leave the family nest, even if it was to live with
someone in the family who could be relied on to provide a proper moral
environment. However, Amna knew that, in truth, they were quite pleased to
see her leave more room for her sisters and that her mother secretly looked
forward to having one less child to have to look after. Aunt Salim picked
Amna up in her modest car and assisted her in loading the bags in the boot.

Amna was soon shown her new room which provided much more space than she
was used to, and a quite pleasant view across a leafy suburban street to
the mock Tudor houses opposite. She spent quite some time unpacking her
bags and putting her underwear and clothes in the appropriate drawers. She
knew she was finished when she'd put up her last poster on the wall and the
several framed photos of her parents, brothers and sisters on the available
surfaces. She lay back on her bed contemplating her new room and thinking
of her future in films. After appearing in Hot asian Lovers with Susan,
what next? She'd have so much money and be able to do the millions of
things she'd always wanted to do and hadn't been able to afford. All she
had to do was to put up with the discomfort of having men's engorged
penises enter her and pretend to enjoy it.

After a while, she made her way down the narrow staircase to the living
room where she could hear Aunt Salim watching television. What she didn't
imagine she'd see was her aunt, who she had only seen totally covered,
dressed in nothing more than expensive black silk underwear, knickers and
bra. She was sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked up underneath her,
her bushy hair cascading free over her shoulders. Aunt Salim greeted her
with a smile and no comment and the two of them continued to watch the
television programs that were on.

Amna soon came to understand that her aunt habitually spent her time at
home dressed only in underwear: perhaps as a compensation for being so
hidden the rest of the time and as a result the temperature of the house
was kept somewhat higher than Amna was used to at her parents' flat. It
seemed that besides her heavy unexciting outdoor clothes, she really owned
nothing more in the way of clothing than an extensive wardrobe of
comfortable and generally silky lingerie. She didn't consider it at all
unusual, (although she'd clearly not advertised her preference to the rest
of Amna's family) an impression reinforced by the fact that whenever Aunt
Salim was entertaining her women friends, they too dispensed with all
clothes bar their underwear. And quite a few of these women were such very
devout Muslims.

Uncovered by her clothes, Aunt Salim had a very attractive body. She
was slim, with a less pronounced figure than Amna's very obvious
bell-shape. She had a flat stomach and taut muscles in the arms which gave
evidence to the efforts she took to keep her body in good form. Like most
of her friends, Amna found it funny that she put so much effort into her
appearance and yet had not got married. Nor did she ever show any ambition
in that direction.

After a while, and with no prompting from her aunt, Amna herself started
wearing only underwear around the house. It was quite a liberating feeling
for her, although she didn't have the range or quality of lingerie of her
aunt. In fact all her underwear was made of quite cheap nylon and cotton
in colours and designs more fun than elegant. Of more note was the fact
that the knickers did not succeed at all in hiding her bush of pubic hair
at the top of her thighs or above their waist-line. Even her bra did a
less than perfect job of restraining her breasts and on more than one
occasion she'd found that a bosom had worked its way loose and was freely
on view. When this happened she embarrassedly struggled to restrain her
still-growing assets inside bras purchased when she'd had somewhat more
modest requirements. Aunt Salim made no signs of ever having noticed, and
indeed made very little sign ever of noticing the way her niece was now
dressing. She gave no signs of either approval or disapproval, and never
appeared at all aware of any aspect of Amna's appearance.

Most of the time, the aunt and niece would sit around in the living room
either watching television or reading books, and it was only occasionally
that Amna felt the need to spend time by herself in her own so spacious
bedroom. She concluded that living with her aunt wasn't such a bad move at
all: she felt much more free and comfortable than she'd ever done
surrounded by her immediate family.

XXVI



Charlotte had gradually drifted away from Emma's bed, and was now
spending far more time with Josephine who had by virtue of her
steadfastness and reliability displaced the more demanding Emma from
primacy in her affections. Quite often these days, Charlotte and Josephine
would spend their evenings together in Josephine's pleasant one-bedroom
flat amongst all the fluffy toys and cushions. She found so much more
pleasure from just resting in Josephine's arms without the demands for
passionate love made on her by Maisie and, on occasion, Emma. The one who
most felt put out by the consolidation of Charlotte's emotions and her more
frequent absences was Susan, who, much more often now, lost the optimism
and self- confidence she carried around with her. She remained loyal to
the flat, even when Charlotte was away, seduced by Maisie's affection for
her and the hope that at some stage Charlotte's love would drift more
solidly her way.

Emma was still Charlotte's closest friend: an honorary title the two of
them felt imperative to maintain although they recognised (belatedly in
Charlotte's case) that they were not to be the closest of lovers. It was
in this capacity that Charlotte felt obliged to take time off work to give
Emma and Maisie as much moral support as possible on the first screening
for the new television program that Emma, was for the first time, to be
presenter. The news of it when excitedly announced by Maisie, the co-
presenter, had rather surprised Charlotte. At no stage in the throes of
passion or in the depths of her relationship with Harriett or any other
time had Emma ever expressed any interest in appearing in front of the
screen on a regular basis. Especially not in a position which Maisie
proudly boasted would involve having sex with quite a few guests and
interviewees. Indeed, she had far more often expressed her deepest
revulsion at the very suggestion of this. This previous attitude seemed
very consistent with Emma's reluctance to discuss her television career or
even the nature of the programme she was to present.

At first, Charlotte assumed that the main attraction was the
substantially increased income she'd get, but Emma didn't even discuss what
she'd do with all the money she'd be banking. It was a mystery to her why
Emma should do such a thing and Maisie's own irrepressible chat on the
subject really gave no clue as to her motive. Neither did Josephine nor
Susan seem to have much idea. Susan characteristically merely wondered why
she'd waited so long, while Josephine's most authoritative opinion was
expressed by a shrug of her naked shoulders. Whatever the motive, Emma
seemed very much more grateful to Charlotte for her expression of moral
support than she'd imagined (having quite imagined that Emma would have
expressly forbidden it).

The television offices were not as welcoming a place as Charlotte had
imagined, when she arrived with Emma and Maisie and hurried along the
corridors with them. She had chosen to go nude as that was the way that
Emma always went to work, but having worked in a supportive naturist
environment for so long she was quite unprepared for the lecherous stares
of the men they passed by en route to where the filming was to take place.
Emma found Charlotte a comfortable chair to sit in to wait in the film
studio, while she and Maisie got prepared in the make-up rooms. Charlotte
sighed to herself as she watched the naked body of her friend wind through
the television cameras, cables and lights to catch up with Maisie who was
indolently kicking the wall with her expensive trainers, the only clothes
she ever wore these days.

The studio was a very cluttered space, full of mysterious equipment and
men and women who were handling it. In the centre of it all, and looking
bizarrely homely, was an open space in which there was a very large bed and
a very voluminous sofa. Behind the furniture and the dangling recording paraphernalia was a colourful backdrop with the programme's title Sex and
Sensibility displayed in a restrained style at relevant points. When
Maisie had originally mentioned the name Charlotte had assumed that the
programme was to be a sex dramatisation of a famous Jane Austen novel, but
she came to realise that the programme had pretensions to being a serious
series reviewing sex issues in modern society: an identity which caused
Emma to laugh in a hollow sardonic way. Charlotte sat patiently, ignoring
the stares of the studio technicians by burying her head in the newspaper
she'd brought along with her.

Finally, the filming was due to start, at which point the studio became
less full of the technicians with tape and screwdrivers, and more full of
camera operators, sound recordists and finally a group of non-technical
people who sat in the much more comfortable chairs next to her. Emma sat
next to her where she silently and gratefully took Charlotte's hand in hers
and gripped it tightly for as much comfort as it could give. Maisie stood
to one side where she chatted idly to a boy not much older than her.
Except for the three of them, everyone was fully clothed and indeed the
make-up applied to Emma's skin and face made her feel even more naked in
comparison.

The object of this filming was to organise the backdrop to the credits
at the beginning and end of each programme that unsurprisingly would
feature the two co- presenters, Emma and Maisie, making love to each other.
The entire exercise (which would take several hours) would be to film the
two of them indulging in explicit sex against various backdrops, using
various props and indulging in innumerable variations. The director seemed
to believe that credits featuring such an intimate woman-child relationship
in such full detail would somehow be sensitively appropriate to a series
that sought to dispel many of the myths and misconceptions surrounding
certain taboo sexual activities. Emma's own sardonic opinion was that it
would just make the programme look like every other sex programme, with
just a little more pandering for the more obscure sexual predilection.

Charlotte had often seen Emma and Maisie making love, and indeed on
occasion she'd even been persuaded to film them together on the home video-
recorder, but it was quite a different matter to see the two of them
flood-lit under such an intimidating array of bright lights surrounded by
men and women she'd never seen before, occasionally taking instruction from
prompts flashed to her on auto cues. The exercise seemed to be rather
bereft of intimacy despite the quite obvious fact that the two lovers were
enmeshed in their lovemaking now as least as much as at any other time. Of
the two of them, it was clearly Emma who was the most anxious and nervous,
with Maisie taking the upper hand in directing her older lover's
attentions. And it was Maisie indeed who was first to make use of the dildo
provided and use that to enter Emma's cunt while a studio cameraman
positioned himself on the stage to get a close view of the action while the
little girl pushed her slim figure backwards and forwards between Emma's
legs.

After a while, perhaps nearly half an hour, Emma became rather less
nervous in her rôle and Charlotte herself breathed more easily as her
lovemaking became much more relaxed. There was a more comfortable flow of
her movements, becoming more like that of Maisie's, culminating after a few
minutes in the first of the many orgasms of the session. These orgasms to
which Charlotte was now rather accustomed at home, where it forever
punctuated the mass of female lovemaking, seemed to excite the previously
morose director who started making notes in a hard-backed notebook.

Eventually, the two girls had exhausted all the possibilities of
location, prop and activity that were offered to them, and the session came
to an anticlimactic end with the technicians dispersing, Emma rushing off
to the make-up room and Maisie chatted idly to the director and some of
those around him. Charlotte was relieved for Maisie's sake that she hadn't
resorted to her more violent sexual behaviour and the two came out with
only the bruises of prolonged grinding groins and the accidental scratches
of finger-nails.

Charlotte sat waiting for Emma wondering not just how the hours of
videotape would be edited down to the two or three minutes of credits for
which they were filmed, but how much Emma's new career would change her.
She felt convinced that having such public sex for the first time was akin
to when she'd lost her virginity. Now that this barrier was broached she
would deal in a different world of references. She also wondered how Emma
really felt about her experience. She clearly enjoyed making love to
Maisie (her love for the girl was clearly both deep and sincere) but how
much pleasure, if any, did she get from making love for the camera? And in
turn for an audience of innumerable people she'd never known and would
never meet.

It was inevitable for a programme with presenters like Emma and Maisie
such as Sex and Sensibility that the first edition should feature an
interview with Delia Cook. As one of the researchers commented when given
the brief to organise the interview, it was not so much an interview with
Delia Cook as "yet another interview". The principal difference in this
interview, Emma was not so pleased to find out was that not only would
there be sex between her and the stout authoress, but her beloved
co-presenter would be expected to indulge in sex with one or other of the
Delia Cook's children. However, having been a keen researcher for so many
years, she prepared herself for the interview by re-reading Sex and family Matters amongst all the other literature that she was given.

Part of her homework was to watch videos of previous interviews Delia
Cook had given so to examine her previous sexual activities on the screen.
Except for her relative bulk, her interviewee was quite the same as any sex
star ever interviewed with the same unlikely stamina and predilection for
all sex. To meet her in the flesh, however, was quite different as Emma
was to find when she, Maisie and a small film crew arrived at the
authoress's very grand house in the outer suburbs of the city.

The Delia Cook who opened the door to her naked guests was naked herself
with the complete tan of someone who rarely rests partly dressed in the
sun. Other than that, she seemed much more an ordinary person than Emma
expected. She certainly couldn't be described as particularly beautiful.
Away from the glare of the camera she seemed to have lost much of her
charisma. She invited the two girls and the two members of the film crew
into her very homely living room, chatting all the time about their journey
there and the weather. In the same room, sitting on an armchair, wearing a
tee-shirt and shorts was a young girl a couple of years older than Maisie
whom Emma immediately recognised as Jennifer from the photographs in Delia
Cook's book. She didn't jump up when everyone came in, but looked at the
crew with some curiosity while fiddling with a piece of squidgy plastic in
her hands.

"Say hello to these people, Jenny," ordered Delia Cook kindly. "You
don't want them to think you're rude." The girl sullenly greeted them and
returned her eyes to her lump of plastic. "You must forgive my daughter,"
the mother continued to everyone. "She's actually quite thrilled. She'll
never have been on television in such a starring rôle before. Indeed,
before your fabulous new show there just weren't any programmes which would
be willing to film her in any kind of action. And don't worry, Emma dear,
I've heard about your tastes. Neither my husband or son have been invited
into this film session; although my son in particular was ever so keen to
get to know the lovely Maisie that much better!"

The talk aspect of the interview was to actually occupy rather less than
a quarter of the half-hour programme, but Delia's replies to Emma and
Maisie's questions were very full and practised, providing detailed
accounts of the sexual adventures she and her family had had, peppered with
very homely and sensible advice regarding the less glamorous health and
safety aspects of the practices she advocated. Emma was pleased to see
that Maisie asked her questions with a maturity and confidence which made
her seem much older than her thirteen years. She was just as capable as
Emma to elaborate on her questions and to ask other questions that led on
naturally from previous ones. It seemed such a shame, Emma reflected, that
so many of Maisie's questions and answers would end up on the cutting room
floor.

As part of the interview, and as a kind of novelty item to signpost the
kind of serious and sensible series Sex and Sensibility was to be, Delia
Cook gave advice to Emma and Maisie about certain sexual behaviour
appropriate to a couple such as them. She positioned the two lovers
physically with her podgy hands and demonstrated in great detail, to Emma,
the camera crew and ultimately millions of viewers, aspects of Maisie's
smooth young vagina that few would suspect and that Emma had uncritically
enjoyed. In the process, Delia squeezed and stroked and tweaked it in a
way that she clearly found very stimulating. Then with what seemed
practised grace, Delia guided the activity into much more physical
love-making.

The transition from aural to sexual intercourse had clearly taken the
film crew by surprise, as they anxiously jostled into the appropriate
positions with the appropriate selection of camera and audio equipment, as
Emma started licking around the smooth exterior of Maisie's cunt, allowing
almost all her tongue on occasion to delve inside its opening. Then Delia
herself joined in, taking control of both Maisie's clitoris and Emma's anus
as it stuck out behind her.

"Come on, Jenny!" her mother cajoled her daughter who with very no more
prompting pulled off her tee-shirt to reveal by the small bush of fluffy
hair underneath that she'd already taken off her knickers. She paraded
self-consciously in front of the inquisitive glare of the camera, before
joining her mother and Emma in stimulating Maisie's crotch. She was a
little older than the photographs in Delia Cook's book, and consequently
had a more mature body, already showing prominent breasts and enough puppy
fat to suggest that she might not remain slim all her life. She soon
directed her lips away from Maisie's crotch, following Emma's busy tongue
into her mouth and soon the two of them were making love separately from
Delia and Maisie.

Throughout the rest of the lovemaking in this interview, Emma got the
distinct impression that it was Delia who was actually directing the
activity rather than herself, the supposed presenter and interviewer. It
was Delia who ensured that she had enough explicit sex with her daughter -
including anal and vaginal penetration with vegetables and dildos - to
dispel any doubts regarding the intimacy of their relationship. It was she
who persuaded Jennifer to have more sex with Maisie and rather less with
Emma (which she seemed to prefer). It was she who sensed Emma's discomfort
in the role of sex interviewer to ensure that she was allowed to escape
from the constant gaze of the camera and sit with Delia or Maisie to watch
the activity from a distance.

It was also she who, when Emma and Maisie felt exhausted with the
lovemaking, persuaded the camera crew to accompany her daughter and herself
to another room where they could film more incestuous sex , only this time
with the male members of the Cook family. She had clearly assessed Emma as
someone who didn't particularly enjoy the sight and suggestion of male
sexuality. She had also realised that although Maisie was one who would be
quite enthusiastic about being fucked by her son, Kevin, or her husband, it
would be an activity which would be more likely to upset Emma. She had
also realised, though, that it was for incest and child sex that the
interview had taken place at all and if she was to retain her position as
the high priestess of such activity it was best to allow Sex and
Sensibility to film exactly what they wanted.

Emma and Maisie were left lying in a heap of sweaty naked flesh on the
Cooks' large pale blue carpet, gasping and panting with exhaustion.
Droplets of salty sweat dripped off Emma's eyebrows onto her cheeks to join
a more general flow towards her mouth where she could still taste
Jennifer's vaginal juices and her mother's saliva. She looked around at
Maisie, who had stood up and was now nosing around the living room: looking
at the homely framed pictures, the naked statuary and country-side scenes.
And more particularly at the selection of juvenile compact discs that
Jennifer had stacked by the stereo system.

"Just listen to that!" laughed Maisie pointing to the ceiling from above
which passionate lovemaking could be heard. There was the thud and rattle
of beds accompanied by guttural cries from both men and women. "They just
don't know how to stop!"

"No, they don't," admitted Emma, who, always the pragmatist, was already
considering how they would edit the quite considerable material that would
have been filmed today and if this meant postponing the planned item on
novel Cuban birth control methods.

XXVII



Amna dreaded the day, but it finally came, when she was to have her
first day working on the set of Hot asian Lovers. She arranged to meet
Susan at her flat, so, for Amna, she got up quite early and took the bus
across town to the block of apartments opposite her parents' shop. She
prayed while waiting for a prompt reply on the intercom to give no time for
her family would see her standing there, and fortunately nobody did. She
was dressed in just the underwear she usually wore around Aunt Salim's
home, highly conscious that whatever she should do she mustn't unbutton the
overcoat she wore from fear of revealing her pubic hair or the breasts that
only with effort she'd managed to keep hidden. Taking Susan's advice she'd
plied plenty of red lipstick onto her nipples, but couldn't see the point
of doing a similar job with flesh- coloured lipstick around the opening of
her vagina. Nobody would be able to see anything through the thick mass of
her pubic glory.

When she reached the flat, she found the door had been left thoughtfully
ajar and was greeted by the girl whom she'd spoken to on the intercom. It
was Maisie wearing just a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a large dildo
strapped around her buttocks which protruded rather prominently through the
unbuttoned flies. Amna didn't know it, but Maisie had been rather taken by
an interview she and Emma had had with a community of women who proudly
termed themselves Dildo Dykes. These were girls who practised the fashion
of wearing dildos wherever they went. This was meant as a statement of
their rejection of the male ethos of feminine modesty, and also as an
unambiguous statement of their dyke-hood. It was also a statement, as the
very chatty crop-headed interviewee had made clear, that as Dildo Dykes
they were "always ready to fuck!" This was a sentiment that particularly
attracted her, although it offended Emma's own views as to the impurity of
wearing even as few clothes as that.

Amna had no views or understanding of women who wore dildos. She
thought it rather ugly and disgusting. She'd often seen girls on the
underground and in record shops with dildos sticking provocatively through
the flies of their shorts, trousers or skirts. Or even without any clothes
at all to otherwise disguise their lower regions. She had a vague idea
that it might have some meaning or significance, but it was the femininity
of women that she found attractive, and this seemed to rather negate that.

"You're here to see Susan, aren't you?" smiled the little girl, stroking
her smooth chest.

"It's my first day at work," Amna admitted.

"Your first day ever?" Amna nodded. "I remember my first day of fucking
on the screen. It was heavenly! It was gorgeous. The men are so good!
They just keep fucking and fucking. I don't know where they get their
energy from! You'll like it for sure. Here," she smiled wickedly, "let's
see your body."

Amna nervously complied, feeling that she could scarcely refuse in front
of a girl who was so accustomed to seeing naked women. She unbuttoned her
overcoat and parted it revealing her nylon underwear.

"Golly! You're very hairy aren't you! But you've got nice tits." She
leaned up to squeeze one. "It's so lovely and firm. I'd love to fuck you
whenever you want."

Amna didn't know what to say. This wasn't the sort of thing she'd ever
hope to hear from her younger sisters, but she assumed that for sex
actresses there was a totally different moral and ethical order. If she
wanted to get to know Susan better she'd have to get to know and understand
it however much it contradicted all that her parents had ever inculcated in
her.

"Let's see Susan," announced Maisie, pushing open the door to a bedroom
which disclosed Susan and Josephine making love to each other. Susan's
mouth was joined with Josephine's and both had their fingers probing deep
inside the other's vagina. Susan looked up at Amna and Maisie, sweat
pouring off her face and down over her shoulders. Amna shuddered with
passion and guilt as she looked at the girl's smooth white body and her
tiny nipples while the taller Josephine obscured the sight of Susan's
crotch by her wobbling buttocks.

"Why hello... Amna... dearest!" gasped Susan in the throes of passion.
Amna smiled shyly, not at all sure what to say.

"Do you want to join in?" asked Maisie sweetly putting one of her small
thin arms around Amna's upper thighs.

"Won't they mind?"

"Fuck no!" said Maisie laughing. "Fuck no!" She looked at Amna
quizzically to ascertain whether she would actually take up the offer.
Amna stood frozen in uncertainty: torn between her desires and her shyness.
"Well, if you won't, I will!" announced Maisie, undoing her denim shorts
and pulling them down over her slender thighs and pulling her tiny feet
through them. She then approached Susan with the dildo sticking out
prominently in front of her, its strap secured around the top of her
buttocks and secured by a tiny buckle just between their two small round
orbs. She stroked Susan's crotch with her hands, while Josephine arched
her neck round and pushed her tongue into Maisie's mouth.

It was then that Amna stood, petrified by her inhibitions, watching
Maisie insert the length of the dildo (longer than most men's penises, Amna
was sure) deeper and deeper inside Susan's cunt while the girl released
gasps of pleasure and ecstasy with each thrust. It was a very unsettling
sight to see a child so young having such total possession of the woman who
was the constant companion of all Amna's private sexual fantasies and
longings. She scarcely noticed as Josephine discreetly disengaged herself
from the couple, stood up and put her long naked arms around Amna's
overcoat-covered shoulders. She made no effort to entice Amna to indulge
in any sex herself, perhaps realising the true centre of the young girl's
gaze. This was Susan's cunt into which Maisie thrust her dildo backwards
and forwards in imitation of the men she watched so avidly on the set.

Amna didn't know how long her ordeal lasted. She was feeling both
aroused by seeing the object of her desires indulging in the sort of
activities she'd fantasised about (and which got her so hot, sweaty and
sticky) and frustrated by the fact it wasn't she who was giving the
oriental so much pleasure.

"Maisie's always like this," sighed Josephine in what seemed like the
far distance of Amna's awareness of the world. "I'm sure it's because
she's so young and that sex is such a novel thing for her. All she ever
thinks about is the physical act. She never concerns herself about the
emotional side."

Amna was aware that these comments were meant to comfort her, but her
feelings towards Maisie at that moment were not of the most charitable
kind. She was relieved when, with an effort, Susan persuaded Maisie that
they should bring this to a halt as she had to go off to work. Amna's
greatest desire then leaped out of bed, gave her only too brief a kiss (but
so very reassuring!) and then in a matter of seconds pulled on a sweater
and a pair of very skimpy white shorts.

"Underwear, darling!" exclaimed Susan, noticing how Amna was dressed.
"Not perhaps the most sexy or expensive. But don't worry appropriate
clothes will be provided on the set. Come on, or we'll be late!"

Today was also the first opportunity that Amna had got to read the
script for Hot asian Lovers, which she hurriedly skimmed through, searching
with a pounding heart for a scene in which she was cited as having sex with
Susan. There was no scene which mentioned that explicitly, although there
were a few where she was expected to have sex with several men and girls.
The story seemed to focus on a male lead who was apparently quite a famous sex actor (not, Amna was pleased to note, for the size of his penis, which
however was still big enough as far as she could see). He wasn't remotely
Asian, although almost everyone else in the film was. His part was as a
visitor to some unspecified asian country as a visitor where by chance he
came to have sex with almost everyone he met. And, also by chance, almost
all these people were women with a curious indisposition relating to
keeping their clothes on and their knees closed.

This asian country wasn't one that Amna had ever heard of (seeming to be
an amalgamation of countries like Thailand, China, India and Afghanistan).
There were no shortages of Hindu temples, deserts, mountains or sex bars.
Susan had one of the more substantial rôles of any of the women, presumably
in recognition of her track record as a sex actress. She was playing a
Japanese tourist (although Amna was sure that her origins were very
probably not Japan) who wore the standard cliche dress of such a person:
baggy shorts, striped singlet and a camera strapped around her shoulders
and not at all hindered by any protuberances on her flat chest. As a
tourist, Susan got rather a few opportunities for sex, including several
without the male star.

Amna's rôle was rather more modest, as a native of this curious asian country, where she was to wear a rather revealing sari and a red tear-drop
painted on her forehead. She wasn't inclined to tell anyone of her
ignorance of the Hindu religion, having been brought up as a Muslim, as she
was sure that she wasn't really expected to bring any specialist knowledge
to her rôle. As Susan unsubtly informed her, she was chosen for her sexual
potential, not her acting one.

Even though it was the first day, the director didn't want to waste any
time. He handed the cast a timetable of shoots in which certain scenes
were to be filmed and advised the starlets that their presence was expected
even when they weren't scripted to perform. He explained, waving his large
hands about when they weren't stroking his beard, that he had a philosophy
of allowing the filming to take its own course, even when it diverged
greatly from the script and that he might want to improvise with the
delectations offered by the assorted cast whenever it seemed appropriate.

Amna was slightly horrified that she was one of those due to be filmed
on this very first day, as she was cast as one of the male star's first
encounters on arriving in the country. Her scene was to be played in the
mocked-up interior of a curious temple which mixed Hindu, Buddhist and
Muslim iconography where she was supposed to play a temple regular. In
this scene the star was meant to start masturbating for reasons that were
not really well explained: despite the obvious incongruity and indeed
inappropriateness of the surroundings. While masturbating, Amna's
character was meant to feel aroused and then to entice the star into full
sex while other temple- goers would look on in great delight and approval.
Amna knew that if even a small part of this occurred in the mosque where
her parents sometimes took her there would be uproar and would probably
lead to something being written in the local newspaper.

However, the part required learning virtually no lines, and those few
that there were, she was told, were intended merely as a guide. Amna
allowed herself to be taken away to the dressing room which she shared with
everyone else except the male star. Susan comforted her with advice, as
did another girl, a Pakistani with somewhat paler skin than hers and with
quite short hair. She was told not to worry. They weren't expecting great
acting. Just apparent enthusiasm and willingness. Susan cuddled her and
kissed her frequently on the lips and face, which was really all the
comforting she needed, while the Pakistani adjusted the sari and learnt
fairly early on that Amna knew no Punjabi at all. Or any other language
other than English, except for a few words in Arabic. Amna dared to
reciprocate Susan's affection with a few kisses of her own, the veins of
her neck beating so hard from her daringness and her fear of rejection that
she feared that it might choke her.

"Come along! Come along! What's keeping you?" demanded one of the
technical assistants poking his head into a room full of naked or
near-naked women. "We haven't got all day, you know!"

Amna was hurried along with various other unhelpful epithets such as
that time was money, the technicians were on an hourly rate and that more
footage would be filmed than would ever need to be used, so she shouldn't
play the prima donna. Amna was distressed to see Susan stay behind in the
dressing room with the Pakistani with whom she seemed to be developing a
closer friendship.

She took her place on the set, standing by a papier-mâche statue of an
elephant god dancing in a Krishna pose, while the male star was filmed
wandering along the linoleum covered floor of the supposed temple admiring
what were in fact just the top of the scenery's cardboard walls. He paused
by a mural of some women making love according to the dictates of the Karma
Sutra that must have been a blown-up photograph of the real thing. He then
pretended to get aroused by the contorted poses and the plethora of penises
and vaginas. He pulled down the shorts he was wearing to reveal a
semi-erect penis and started stroking it with skill. Amna watched with
dread and fascination, her hands down by her side and the sari threatening
to flop off to reveal her left breast. She felt very exposed with just her
navel and waist showing, aware that soon, according to the script,
everything was to come off.

"Psssttt!" came a voice from behind her as one of the assistants
gestured her on. Amna sighed. She now knew what stage-fright was,
although her only audience was the silhouetted figures of the technicians
and some of the cast that she could glimpse beyond the arc-lights.
"Psssttt!" repeated the voice more urgently.

Amna wandered onto the set, feeling the throbbing nerves of her neck
echoed by the thump of her heart and the sweat pouring down her forehead,
as she uttered the first words of her film career. "Oooh! You've got
quite a thing there!"

"Would you like to touch it?" asked the star kindly, looking up at her
with a not unsympathetic expression.

"Can I?" she asked with all the eagerness she could muster for the
requirements of the script.

"Of course," smiled the star taking her hand in his own hairy firm hand
and guiding it to his now erect penis.

"It's so warm!" commented Amna, departing from the script, as she
observed her own first impressions of holding an aroused penis in her hand.

"It's hot for you!" improvised the actor.

In actual fact, Amna's first performance was not at all the failure she
feared. The male star was actually very helpful, perhaps sensing her
inexperience and shyness, and took her totally in control. She soon found
that she was losing sight of the cameras trained on her, and, more
worryingly, the censorious gaze of the director. She couldn't say that she
actually enjoyed putting his penis in her mouth and drawing it in and out,
while uttering appreciative moans. She certainly didn't enjoy his
penetration of her, although he had taken great care to moisten her cunt as
much as possible with his fingers and tongue. "You've got so much hair!"
he commented smiling, with strands of pubic hair caught between his teeth.
The fucking was something that went on rather too long for Amna's taste.
Surely it must finish soon, she speculated while trying to remember to make
her gasps of pain sound a little more like ones of pleasure. She felt the
top of her cunt bruise with each of the star's deep thrusts and she felt
sure that such a painful ordeal was totally removing any of the last of
what maidenhead she'd still left untorn.

Her speculation was confirmed when he pulled his penis out from her
battered naked body and with a few gestures released a torrent of warm
semen over her. There were small droplets of blood gathered around the
glans and the smooth shine of the juices on it had a distinct reddish
tinge.

"Very good! Very good!" said the director afterwards, congratulating
the male star, while Amna lay naked feeling helpless and humiliated on the
cool linoleum temple floor, her sari lying over one of her thighs and her
eyes focusing on a plaster- cast model of a crescent moon. "And you too,
dear," added the director unconvincingly, looking at her with a not too
sincere smile.





XXVIII



Susan was very kind to Amna after her day's work; sensitively noting the
young girl's disorientation, but perhaps not really understanding why. She
and her Pakistani friend took her to a burger bar where they chatted over
some very squelchy whopper-burgers. Amna realised through the haze of her
thoughts that Susan and the Pakistani were getting on very fine, swapping
telephone numbers and quite freely kissing each other. She felt great
jealousy which reinforced her general feeling of misery.

The two girls escorted Amna to a taxi-rank and paid the driver to take
her back to Aunt Salim's flat. The taxi drew off while Amna pressed her
face against the window and enviously watched the Pakistani walk off with
her arm round Susan's slender boy-like waist. She reflected on her day,
which after her sex scene with the male star was followed only a couple of
hours later by a scene in which she had to have sex with two men simultaneously while a Tibetan woman with surgically enhanced breasts covered her face with salty kisses and filled her mouth with the distinct
taste of the penises she'd been sucking. She forgot what the excuse for
this sex scene was: only that it was quite painful. She'd not properly
recovered from her first scene, and her anus was so tight that it almost
defeated entry by the slightly tubby Malaysian man who had elected to
bugger her. She now felt totally wretched and humiliated, and looked
forward only to having a bath and going to bed.

As soon as she got back to the flat, she ignored her Aunt Salim's
cheerful enquiries about her day at work and dashed straight into the
bathroom, where she sat naked on the toilet for nearly twenty minutes
struggling unsuccessfully to have either a shit or a piss or something else
to evacuate from her system. Nothing happened. She then ran the bath
water and sat in its water long after it had lost its warmth and all the
bath foam had evaporated. She expected to see torrents of blood and semen
burst out of her violated orifices, but in fact only the merest red and
creamy stains could be seen in the bath water. She pummelled her vagina and arse with soap and loofahs, crying to herself, and self-consciously
feeling the tenderness at the top of her cunt and around the rim of her
anus where she had received the most insistent pounding.

"Are you all right, Amna darling?" asked her Aunt Salim through the
bathroom door.

Amna was now out of the bath, furiously towelling herself, even though
she was thoroughly dry, in the vain hope of scrubbing off the last traces
of her ordeal. She grunted in reply.

"Can I come in?"

Amna grunted again, and stood naked on the bath towel in front of her
aunt who was wearing her usual choice of silky lingerie. Amna had never
appeared naked in front of her aunt before, but she somehow felt beyond
caring. "Are you sure you're all right?" Aunt Salim asked with some
concern. She walked over to her niece, and with some tenderness put a long
arm round Amna's shoulder. Amna had quite clearly been crying, despite her
attempts to dry off the traces with the towel. She didn't resist her
aunt's approach; instead she rather desperately wrapped her arms around
her.

"I'm so unhappy!" she confessed. "I don't know what to think or what to
do?"

"Was your first day at work really that bad?" wondered Aunt Salim.
"Surely clerical work can't be that bad."

"It's not clerical work," Amna confessed through a sudden outbreak of
tears. She could feel the teardrops run down her face and into her mouth.
Snot began to run from her nostrils and made her nose feel slightly sore.
"It was never clerical work."

"Can you tell me what it is?" her aunt asked sympathetically. Amna
shook her head.

"Never! No! Never! I could never say!"

Aunt Salim was tactful enough not to pry further. She escorted the
still naked Amna to the living room and continued to hug her close to her,
while the girl rambled on about the various things that upset her. With
time, and with very little prompting, Amna confessed all to her aunt. Her
passion for an oriental girl in sex cinema, her work on Hot asian Lovers,
her on-screen sex, her jealousy and her current despair.

"And that was the first time for you?" asked her aunt.

"It was horrible! Horrible! I'll never be able to go to the toilet the
same way ever again! What must you think of me? I'm a disgrace to the
family. What I've been doing is disgusting and filthy. I'm just a
pervert."

"Ssshhh!" Aunt Salim prompted. "Don't blame yourself. Allah willing,
all will be fine. I certainly won't treat you as anything other than my
little niece, Amna."

"Thank you! Thank you!" replied the young girl, smiling bravely through
the misery of her tear-stained face. She cuddled her aunt closer and
closer, feeling the silkiness of the lingerie close to her naked skin and
the pressure of her aunt's breasts against her own more ample pair.

There was no particular single event that determined the course of
events, but Aunt Salim's comfort of Amna somehow drifted into Aunt Salim's
bed, which felt so deliciously clean and smelt so freshly washed. Amna lay
there beneath the sheets with her aunt's now naked body wrapped around her.
There was no genital contact between them, but their kisses strayed around
the face, into the mouth, into the ears, to the tips of the nipples and as
far down the body as the belly-button. Her aunt made occasional comments
as to the beauty of the dark hair on her niece's arms, and the extent of
her facial hair which constituted a soft down of feminine sideburns. Amna
only noticed and appreciated the safe comfort of her aunt's beautiful warm
body, her clean and smell-free skin, the curious tilt of her nipples, the
slightly long ear-lobes, the strong teeth and her long tongue which tickled
every crevice of her ears and licked clean the tears off her cheeks.

Amna eventually managed to fall asleep. Her body wrapped up in a foetal
ball around her aunt, one hand covering the thick mass of her pubic hair
and the so conclusively violated vagina, while the other gripped tightly to
her aunt's shoulder. Salim looked at her niece with an indulgent smile and
tried to make herself as comfortable as she could while not disturbing her.
She smiled more and more broadly and glanced over to look at the reflection
of herself and Amna in the dressing-table mirror. She frowned at the
peculiar sight of two women enmeshed in each other. The image didn't
entirely please her. Her gaze wandered over to a text from the Koran that
was framed on the wall. She frowned more deeply.

She started to stir, to disengage herself from niece but as she did so,
Amna made a little grunt as a part of her reacted to her aunt's motion.
Salim studied her niece. She looked at her dark skin, the even blacker
hair cascading over her face, the breasts that she'd never been able to
contain very well under her clothes and the softness of a belly that would
never be as taut and firm as her own. She examined the breasts heaving in
her slow breathing and felt the girl's breath against her cheek. She
smiled again, and pulled Amna closer to her. The next time when she looked
at their reflection in the mirror it was with undiluted pleasure.

Amna didn't need to go to work the following day as the Director had
excused her from appearing as he'd concluded that she probably would not be
in top form after her previous pummelling. She anticipated her aunt
telling her in no uncertain terms to stop working in hard-core sex films,
but in fact she said nothing of the sort. When she woke up Amna with a
tray of breakfast, she made no comment at all on discovering that Amna had
the day off and was due back on the set the next day. She merely kissed
her niece softly on the face, and prepared herself for her own job,
covering up her soft silky underthings under her clothes and tucking her
long hair under a silk head-scarf. Amna stayed in Aunt Salim's bed all
morning, relishing the silky softness of the sheets and the luxury of her
free day.

She hadn't been up very long when her aunt returned from work. She was
sitting in her knickers and bra, her feet drawn up beneath her, watching an
imported soap opera whose banality somehow comforted her immensely. Her
aunt greeted her cheerily with a smile, before retreating to her bedroom to
change. She returned in red underwear with her hair loose, and sat next to
Amna watching the predictable events the soap opera characters found
themselves in.

"Did you have a nice day?" Aunt Salim wondered. "Do you feel better
now?"

"Yes, much better!" smiled Amna bravely. "I'm sure I've recovered."

Aunt Salim put her arms around her niece, drawing her close to her and
then on impulse showered the girl's face with kisses. Amna reciprocated,
with less passion but with the definite need of affection. Her aunt
brought her hands around to the clasp at Amna's back that held the strap of
her bra together.

"You don't need to wear this you know," she said with a chuckle. "It's
several sizes too small anyway!" She removed the bra and with a single
gesture threw it into the waste-paper basket. Amna made no protest as her
full breasts fell out unrestrained and felt instantly more comfortable.
She made no protest, either, as her aunt removed her knickers which she
said barely covered her properly anyhow, and found herself sitting naked on
the sofa. She wondered whether her nudity would now be the prelude to more
active caresses, but her aunt did no more than cuddle her.

The evening was spent with the aunt and niece seated on the sofa when
they weren't eating dinner, their arms around each other, caressing each
other and watching television. Aunt Salim concentrated her attention on
her niece's breasts and face and torso. She merely stroked the expanse of
pubic hair, making no attempt to masturbate her niece or to let her fingers
enter her vagina. When bedtime came, it seemed quite natural for the two
of them to drift to Aunt Salim's bed, where, for the first time that
evening, she took off her underwear, and Amna was able to feel the full
warmth of her aunt's breasts and the merest details of her nipples. The
two lay together, but only Amna's hand strayed below the waist to feel her
aunt's clitoris, which she seemed to find very enjoyable.

Their lovemaking remained tender and somehow detached. There seemed to
be no inconsistency in Amna's mind in her aunt accepting her work in sex
cinema, her passion for Susan or indeed her being related. Aunt Salim saw
her niece off to work the following day as if she really were going to the
office to work in a clerical capacity, only commenting on what clothes she
should wear. She advised Amna to wear the clothes she felt comfortable in,
not those in which she auditioned because, as she commented, these wouldn't
be the clothes she'd be working in.

As Amna left home in her jeans and tee-shirt, travelling on the
underground train, it was several stops until she recalled to herself
exactly where she was going and what her work entailed. She felt a sudden
rush of dread as she contemplated the violation of her groin again. But as
she thought of that and the idea of sex came into her head, the image of
her aunt's body and that of Susan's appeared. She couldn't help asking
herself how much the relationship she'd developed with her aunt somehow
compromised the passion she felt for Susan. Which was the stronger and
which was the more real? The answer she decided was that her relationship
with her aunt was one of affectionate touching, whereas the feelings she
held for Susan made her cunt feel much warmer and excited. The thought
that most stimulated her was to imagine the caresses she'd given to her
aunt, her tongue licking around her nipple and the excited shudders she'd
given when she tweaked her clitoris. And then to substitute the naked form
of Susan for that of Aunt Salim.

She needn't have felt anxious about having sex as she found that she was
surplus to requirements on this particular day, so she was able to join the
rest of the cast in watching the filming. Her jeans and tee-shirt didn't
seem at all inappropriate, if a little tight around the hips, as most of
the other girls were wearing the casual clothes they'd normally wear, which
included one thick-waisted woman who was a committed naturist and another
who, like Maisie, had taken to wearing a dildo under her shorts.

However, the lack of sex may have been a great relief in one sense, but
what she was left with was mostly boredom, as more was done preparing the
set than actually filming. She was pleased, though, that the filming was
done outdoors near a private lake so that she could enjoy the sun beating
down on her and didn't have to pretend to have any real interest in the
work going on. She felt deprived though in that both Susan and Aisha, the
Pakistani girl, were not sitting with her and keeping her company. What
troubled her as well was why the two girls were absent, and her fears
proved to be well-founded when they started filming the scene which Amna
just couldn't find in the script she'd been provided with.

The scene by the private lake was meant to be taking place at a distant
Asian lake of a kind it was assumed was commonly found in this mongrel
Asian country. Susan, as a Japanese tourist, came on the set and was
apparently so taken by the lake that quite naturally what she did was to
take off all her clothes and wander into the lake for a swim. Naturally,
her clothes were stolen while she was in the water, so when she finished
swimming she found herself left only with her camera and travellers'
cheques. Amna's thought was that something was very strange about that.
Surely a genuine thief would have rather less interest in a Japanese
tourist's clothes (which probably wouldn't fit very well, anyway) than her
money and camera.

Susan was then meant to panic and by chance she immediately meets Aisha
who was dressed in a similar kind of Hindu outfit to the one Amna had worn.
She also had her short cropped hair covered in a long dark wig with a long
plait reaching down her back. Within seconds Aisha and Susan somehow lose
all interest in their futile search for Susan's clothes, and start showing
a great deal more interest in each other's bodies. This was the part of
the filming that troubled Amna the most. The two girls were clearly quite
keen on each other's bodies and were showing unfeigned passion which
stimulated the Director and cameraman. Amna had to watch for well over an
hour while the two girls made very passionate love that soon graduated from
oral sex to full penetration with a dildo which bizarrely enough Aisha had
been carrying around underneath her sari. Amna felt jealous pangs as she
watched Susan being deeply penetrated and gasping and screaming with her
pleasure. If only she didn't enjoy it so much! If only it wasn't Aisha
doing it! If only it was Amna who was making love to her!

Inevitably the hero of the film had to be involved in some way, and as
this in some unexplained way involved the return of the Japanese tourist's
clothes this had to be expressed by Susan's gratitude which meant of course
three way sex with Aisha. It also entailed Susan penetrating his anus with
the dildo, which was apparently unscripted but greeted with enthusiasm by
the star and the Director. Somehow the love scenes at this stage troubled
Amna rather less than before. Somehow the only rivals to her own affection
that Amna worried about were female ones. She couldn't imagine male lovers
being anything to be unduly concerned about. She couldn't really
understand what it might be that so many women found attractive about men.
The more she saw of them, and the more sex she'd had with them, the less
she understood it.

Eventually, of course, the relationship between Amna and her aunt led to
their caresses drifting down more often and more actively to their groins.
Aunt Salim took more and more pleasure in exploring the folds and crevices
of her niece's vagina, and frequently found her tongue sore in the morning
from running it over the thick pubic hair. Often she found strands of hair
stuck between her teeth (sometimes tasting rather unpleasant when her
tongue strayed inside Amna's hairy anal crack). She once even found
herself coughing up a pubic hair on the underground train on the way to
work. Amna less often let her tongue wander between her aunt's legs, but
their relationship had settled on a pattern that somehow suited Salim: in
which Amna was the passive recipient of her aunt's not inconsiderable
attention. Amna wasn't sure how this had come to be, but she enjoyed lying
back on the sofa or bed while her aunt stimulated her clitoris, vagina and
anus. She felt rather detached from the activity even on those occasions
when she was stimulated to feelings of greater passion than usual. It was
clear to her that her aunt wasn't sure of what her reaction should be but
was somehow disappointed by her own lack of more frantic, wild or
unrestrained orgasmic pleasure.

Amna's lack of passion sometimes troubled her, especially when she
glanced down at her aunt, head in pubic hair and longing eyes gazing up,
feeling she was somehow cheating her of all the pleasure she was hoping
for. She quite gladly abandoned wearing underwear round the house. It only
made her nipples feel sore and nothing she wore seemed to prevent the pubic
hair from appearing over the waist band or on the insides of her thigh.
She liked to sit on the sofa feeling the warm bushiness of her groin and
brushing her fingernails against her proudly growing nipples.

She had become more accustomed to making love at work, and though she
couldn't really claim to actually enjoy it and it still gave her pain on
occasion, it was no longer something she particularly dreaded. It was just
part of a day's work. She got quite inured to the sensation of an erect
penis thrusting away at her cunt, and took the advice of some of the other
girls in lubricating it in advance with ointments and grease. However, no
amount of lubrication made it that easy when it was necessary for her to be
buggered, but she squeezed her eyes tight and bore it as well as she could.
She would bear anything for the opportunity to be near Susan and for the
promise of the pay she'd get for it.

She also got quite accustomed to seeing Susan having love made to her or
indeed making love to others. It seemed to Amna that there was nothing
unfeigned about her enjoyment, whether with a man or with a woman. She
also noticed with alarm that her friendship with Aisha appeared to be
increasing rather than diminishing with time. After all her sacrifice,
however, Amna was disappointed to find that the love scene that she was
originally scheduled to be in with Susan was changed so that the woman the
object of her passion now made love to was Aisha. This was apparently
because the passion and photogenic value of their lovemaking had so
impressed the Director. However, Amna was compensated with by yet another
scene in which she had sex with two men simultaneously in what was supposed
to be another temple and was in fact the same scenery used before but
slightly reorganised. This was not quite the compensation she'd been
hoping for.

The filming was coming to an end, and so too would come both the last
opportunity for having sex with Susan and receiving a cheque for her
performance. Amna accepted with regret that Hot asian Lovers was not going
to be the film in which she'd consummate her love for Susan, and became
more drawn to calculating the impact on her life of the substantial rewards
she'd get for her acting.

Through her new contacts in the film industry she managed to acquire
quite a collection of film stills and posters featuring Susan. The best
she believed was a full poster in a film called Bangkok and Sodomy where
she'd had the starring rôle. In this poster Susan was positioned in some
underwear that managed to reveal her crotch and fully display the flatness
of her chest. The print with it explained that for Yoko, as Susan was
known, the front entrance wasn't enough and the servants' entrance needed
just as much servicing. There were some stills associated with the film
which more graphically displayed penises entering her rear entrance while
she was apparently totally overwhelmed with joy. She put this poster and
all the other pictures up on her bedroom wall in Aunt Salim's flat where
they acted as a kind of shrine to Amna's unrequited passion.

She could see that these pictures somehow disturbed her aunt, who
nonetheless made no more comment about them than she did about her niece
continuing to work in sex cinema. Amna didn't care, though. She would lie
on her bed during the day while her aunt was at work day-dreaming about
Susan and her child- like figure. She had even bought a couple of videos featuring Susan and watched them for Susan's body alone: frequently running
the video past scenes in which other film stars were engaged in sex. The
scenes she most enjoyed were the ones where Susan, clothed or unclothed,
playing Hiyuchi or Nori or whoever, would be filmed with no other
characters on the set at all. She rather relished the image of herself as
a naked girl sitting around surrounded by images of her oriental love.

She tried to masturbate to the images of Susan. She tried to achieve
the orgasm that her aunt wasn't able to elicit from her, and which she'd
only ever been able to fake while on the set; but it stubbornly refused to
happen. However much she beat away at her cunt and arse with carrots,
courgettes, fingers or fists, she could only beat at the doors of passion
but they didn't seem to want her to come in. All she was left with was a
feeling of dissatisfaction, a sore wrist, a messy groin and images in her
mind of Susan being fucked by men, women and most of all by Aisha.
Sometimes the unfairness of it all caused her to cry and cry, knowing that
the tears she shed would be rewarded by her aunt's passionate embraces,
kisses and even more frantic attempts to provide her with that elusive
moment of pure pleasure that seemed to come so easily to Susan.

XXIX



Life was certainly changing at Emma and Charlotte's flat. Emma and
Maisie had at last found a house in a quite well-to-do part of the city,
and had moved out to live together there. Emma seemed quite reluctant to
move to somewhere so expensive, saying that it tied her more than she
wanted to the kind of income she was now bringing in; but Maisie was
insistent, and as always Emma was unable to resist any of Maisie's
requests. Their move was not a sudden affair. The two of them had been
away rather more often than not for several months now, mostly connected
with their television work, staying at distant hotels. Often when they
were there, it was only one or the other of them as Maisie would visit her
mother or Emma would be away on business which Maisie did not need to
attend. When Emma was there, Charlotte would make a determined effort to
spend the night with her; but in truth, (as Josephine knew quite well) the
urgency and significance that Charlotte had once associated with her
lovemaking with Emma were much less now. She had come to accept that
Emma's real love was Maisie, and had moreover come to feel her love for
Josephine much more strongly.

Susan still stayed in the flat. She had lost her previous home, as her
boyfriend had started a relationship with another man and Susan no longer
felt able to come and go as freely as she'd once done. She quite naturally
moved into the bedroom vacated by Emma and Maisie, and although she still
professed to a great unrequited passion for Charlotte, she no longer felt
the need to spend too much time looking after her. She had even had a
brief affair with a Pakistani girl, Aisha, but this relationship didn't
last too long. Josephine understood that Aisha had begun to express rather
more desire for commitment in their relationship than Susan was prepared to
offer. As Susan explained to Josephine, she was a professional fuck
actress and any lover she had would just have to accept this fact. In any
case, Susan expressed more passion in her occasional lovemaking with
Maisie, herself and, less often, Charlotte, than in any of her nights
together with Aisha. Josephine felt rather sad that their love affair
hadn't lasted very long, as she'd quite enjoyed the taste of Aisha's cunt and she adored the way her tongue managed to insinuate itself into her
anus.

Josephine was finding that Charlotte was expressing a desire for a
seriousness in their own relationship that went far beyond anything that
she'd ever experienced before, even in her boyfriends. She had in fact
gone as far as proposing marriage.

"Marriage!" exclaimed Josephine. "Do you understand what you're
saying?"

"It's perfectly legal now. Didn't you read about it in the papers
recently? Marriage is now no longer to be defined on rigid gender grounds.
Men can marry men. And women can marry women."

"Well, maybe so. But what's the point of getting married anyway? What
can't we do now that we can do if we're married?"

"It's not a question of what we can or cannot do. It's symbolic. I
just want to say to you that you are special in my life. Unique. That I
love you. That I want to live with you. That I want to stay with you for
the rest of my life."

Josephine was rather overwhelmed by the intensity of Charlotte's
declaration of undying love, and tightly cuddled her lover. They were very
soon making very passionate love on the strength of Charlotte's
declaration, but what Josephine found particularly striking and somehow
most appealing of all was Charlotte's claim that she wanted the two of them
to have a baby. Josephine didn't want to confess to Charlotte that as a
result of some unpleasant operations she'd had when she was less than
thirteen years old it was extremely unlikely that she could ever be the
mother of a child. She always hid from her lover the darker side of her
past and the abuse she'd received in her family from her parents and other
relatives. This meant that the only one of the two of them capable of
child-bearing was Charlotte, and she was remarkably enthusiastic about the
idea.

"Whether it's you or me, it doesn't matter!" Charlotte claimed. "I'd be
proud to carry a child knowing it to be ours."

"Isn't there a bit of a problem in either of us fathering a child?"
Josephine wondered.

"The father doesn't matter! What matters is that it belongs to both of
us: even if only one of us is the biological mother. I would so like it if
we could have a child. We could call her Emma or, if it's a boy, Robert or
Charles or something."

"Yes, we could. But we need to find a biological father."

This was not of course a particularly difficult task for Josephine who
in her years in sex theatre had met rather a lot of men who were more than
willing to make love to both Charlotte and her. It was necessary that in
the lovemaking that both Josephine and Charlotte should be there together;
otherwise it wouldn't be 'their' child, as Charlotte insisted on calling
it. Her view was that if the father-to-be conceived the child while making
love to both of them at the same time, then in a real sense it could be
said to have an equal chance of motherhood by either of the two lovers.
Again, Josephine had no wish to disillusion Charlotte as to the relative
probabilities.

This became a regular occurrence. Josephine would bring home with her
one, two or even three male acquaintances or colleagues of different
colours or ethnic backgrounds (this was not thought at all important) and
before long the two lovers would immerse their bodies in each other with
the additional presence of penises thrusting into their vaginas. Charlotte
insisted that the men should release their sperm inside both of them, and
not over their face and breasts, as some professional actors had a tendency
to do. This required Charlotte or Josephine spotting the moment of seminal
release and taking the black, pink or brown penis out of its current
orifice as it seeped out its oozing yellowish liquid and insert it
immediately in both of the girls' vaginas in the hope of insemination.
Once this was done then the intention was that the man, or any other man who was servicing them at the time, should do his best to produce more of
the precious liquid for further insemination.

Some of the men whom Josephine brought home very much enjoyed their
rôles as sperm-providers. It didn't bother them at all that Josephine and
Charlotte showed no interest at all in their bodies beyond their sexual
equipment and its productive capabilities. Often they actually enjoyed
being so closely involved in lesbian lovemaking and participating in a rôle
of nearly minimum emotional involvement with maximum release of semen.
Some men however felt somehow cheated by it all. They felt rather
marginalised by the way the only tenderness and passion the two girls showed were to each other, however much their vaginas or anuses where being
penetrated or stimulated by the men's penises. Josephine could see that
Charlotte, despite her avowed lesbianism, actually rather enjoyed having
sex with men, as Josephine did herself, but the focus of their affection
was very definitely each other. It might be pleasant to taste again a nice
firm erect penis in between the teeth or jostling with the larynx. It
might add to the ecstasy of orgasm to have a real live penis (rather than a
dildo) thrusting in and out of the nether orifices. But the subject of
their passion remained each other. Neither Josephine nor Charlotte felt
any great feelings of affection nor emotion for the men, although they soon
came to have favourites who they were happier to have back again, perhaps
the following night, for another chance of impregnating one or other of
them.

To each other the men were identified better by their penises than by
their names, faces or personalities. Charlotte might reminisce about the
particular productivity of an originally unpromising rather squat penis.
Josephine might recall the length and duration of effort of another penis
that might have given both of them rather more pleasure than normally but
was actually rather less productive. Some men were recalled for the short
time in which it took them to produce semen and how so much of it was
wasted on the sheets rather than in their cunts. But the two girls' new
hobby (of which Emma, whenever she visited, disapproved totally) was one
that occupied them more nights than not, filled their bodies with viscous
pale fluid and required rather more changes to the sheets than had hitherto
ever been required.

Somehow, Susan no longer felt as content in her life as before. The
reorganisation of the flat left her feeling somewhat sidelined. Emma and
Maisie were so rarely at the flat, and whenever they were it always seemed
that it was Charlotte who got the most attention. Even Maisie these days
seemed somehow more distant; even if she would insist on fucking Susan with
whatever flavour of dildo had taken her fancy at the moment. She felt
rather banished, staying in the bed with Josephine and Charlotte where she
had spent so many happy months at the peak of her passion and obsession for
Charlotte. Now, however, she felt obliged to admit that Josephine was to
be the centre of Charlotte's life and accept that it was indeed not a bad
choice for her. The presence of men in their bedroom had made the room
seem somehow less inviting. It reminded her too much of work to watch two
men humping away at Charlotte, a penis in the arse while underneath another
was deep inside her cunt. She had somehow lost her taste for male sex. It
was good at work. It provided her with a living, and while she was being
filmed she genuinely enjoyed having her orifices filled with rubbery but
stiff organs of pleasure. However, she no longer felt that a man could
provide her with quite the emotional satisfaction she craved. And as she
found in her brief but passionate relationship with Aisha, not all women
were necessarily going to provide it for her either.

She concentrated more effort in her work, and had taken the advice of
her agent in promoting herself more actively in androgynous rôles. She cut
her hair short and boyish, and took to wearing shorts, shirt and tie which
made her look like a curious kind of oriental school boy. She also took up
the fashion of shaving her vagina every morning aware that this increased
her marketability to the makers of films about androgynous sex. The actual
sex didn't change much (although there was undoubtedly a greater demand for
anal penetration and even back entrance finger-fucking) but the films had a
tendency to be set in schools, gymnasia and holiday camps, and there was
more male homosexuality and transexualism practised than in most films
she'd been in before.

It was on the set of Teeny Fuck Vacation that Susan met Salim. She had
no idea who she was of course, but had been fascinated by the sight of her
during the fuck shoot when she was being penetrated anally by a man in his
fifties with a Kiss Me Quick hat and very knobbly knees. She stood to one
side of the set looking very mysterious in her long dark dress that came
down to her ankles and the head-scarf that covered all her hair. Most
women watching sets were either participants in the filming process or
anxious porn starlets hoping to learn by watching the professionals at
work. Salim obviously didn't fit into either category. Susan was quite
surprised to be approached by the woman afterwards who introduced herself
rather shyly and asked even more timidly if they could talk somewhere after
the film. Salim was somewhat older than most of the women of her
acquaintance, certainly more so than anyone who'd shared her flat, but
Susan could tell that her face at least was very attractive and curiously
not markedly asian at all. Susan agreed to meet, more out of fascination
than anything else.

They met again at an ice cream parlour nearby where over pistachio and
almond ice creams, Salim told Susan about Amna and her obsession for Susan
and how much it troubled her aunt. "She's totally obsessed by you! It's
the only thing that seems to give her any pleasure in life. Otherwise
she's so listless and apathetic. It's as if she doesn't care about
anything else at all."

Susan could see the genuineness of Salim's plea and was astute enough to
guess that there was a sexual element to Salim's concern, although she was
not sure that it was likely to have been satisfied. She remembered Amna
quite well as the funny little shop-girl who had taken an interest in fuck
films and whom she'd helped out. She was a little surprised to learn that
Amna had continued to work in the profession. Her feeling, and one shared
by Aisha, was that the girl hadn't really enjoyed her time in Hot asian Lovers, and would probably not wish to get involved in any more films. She
remembered her tearfulness after one day's shoot in which Aisha and she had
to help her to a taxi. Susan found, though, that she'd been in another
fuck film, Corner Shop Cunts, and had been accepted for a rôle in Eastern
Ecstasy. It actually upset her to discover that Amna had actually lost her
virginity in the audition for Hot asian Lovers. However, Susan couldn't
see that there was actually anything that she could do and accepted that
Salim had come to see her pretty much out of desperation. Amna was
currently spending a few days with her family where she continued the
pretence that she worked in a clerical capacity, despite the evidence of a
somewhat better salary than most semi-skilled clerks would normally earn.

Salim took Susan back to her flat and showed her Amna's bedroom with the
posters and memorabilia all around the room. Susan felt both flattered and
upset. It was undoubtedly a compliment that someone should find her so
attractive that they would collect videos of her non-starring films, find
posters of her in the fuck posture cliches so preferred by cameramen and
search out magazines which had pictures of her in them. It was also quite
frightening to see herself idolised in this way. She knew from her
obsession with Charlotte, that it didn't mean that she was actually
deified, but it did mean that Amna was expressing rather more interest in
her than could possibly be justified. She was after all not a very unusual
person and not really one of the world's most attractive either. Her
assets in the fuck film industry had been more her lack of breasts, the
slimness of her body and the enthusiasm of her lovemaking. Her one-time
sexual problem where she could only make love to someone while being
watched had been gradually overcome as a result of her lovemaking in the
flat she now shared with Josephine and Charlotte. She certainly didn't
deserve this kind of attention.

Susan felt slightly faint, so Salim thoughtfully took her downstairs to
the living room. She had taken off her head-scarf, but still kept on her
thick dress. She spoke sadly of how much Amna's obsession with Susan had
troubled her. How much she'd wanted to meet Susan herself to find out what
she was like. And how pleased she was that Susan wasn't anything like as
bad a person as she thought a porn actress should be despite the disgusting
and unmentionably vulgar nature of her work. It was at this stage that
Susan became quite clear in her mind just how far Salim's relationship with
Amna had progressed. She took Salim's hands in her own, squeezed them
gently and muttered kind words of comfort.

At first Salim struggled ineffectually to release her hands, but she
relented and let Susan's caresses become more intimate. She was evidently
quite upset and Susan was quite a mistress of such situations. Indeed she
found Salim's freckled face rather attractive and she enjoyed the fullness
of the older woman's smile. She soon released Salim of her thick confining
dress and was surprised to see just how very sexy her choice of lingerie
was. This was a world of dress habits Susan had never known about before.
Most women she knew of who owned such clothes wore them only in a
professional context and would never wear such clothes otherwise. Here was
someone who wore silk and satin, garters and stockings, for herself rather
than for the stimulation of male libidos.

Susan released herself of her shirt and trousers in a few very brief
gestures and stood naked in Salim's clasp smiling lasciviously at Amna's
aunt, aware of the flash of alarm burning across her face. Salim stood up,
belatedly bringing her hands up to cover the breasts that Susan had
uncovered earlier.

"We can't! You can't! I shouldn't! What if Amna...?"

"Do you know what Amna does every day at work?" Smiled a nonplussed
Susan, striding across to Salim and delicately pushing down her arms and
removing the bra. "Don't you think she already knows only too well what I
do every day at work?"

"Yes, but..." Began Salim, but her protests were plugged by Susan's
tongue which plunged into the woman's welcoming mouth and was pleased by
the readiness and passion of Salim's response.

Susan spent the night in Salim's bed, enjoying a night of passion that
lacked in technique but was compensated partly by the extent of Salim's
curiosity. She could see that the relationship between Salim and Amna had
not really progressed as far sexually as Susan was accustomed to in her
relationships. Salim showed some reluctance and ineptitude in many of the
activities Susan encouraged her to participate in. She had hardly
considered the anus as an object of sensuality, for instance. Penetration
even in the vagina had been limited to fingers and tongues, it seemed.
There hadn't been anything like the passion and ecstasy which Susan was
able to orchestrate and which after several orgasms left Salim drained and
helpless. She lay collapsed on her bed linen, her face burrowed into the
pillow and her bottom in the air with a smile of contentment on her face
that even Susan had rarely seen before.

XXX



Amna always felt that her best course of action was to retire to her own
room when Aunt Salim invited her friends around. She felt sure that none
of her aunt's friends would much enjoy the presence of a teenage girl,
particularly one who now habitually spent her time in the house in the
nude. Her nudity seemed quite natural when only Aunt Salim was there, but
she felt that it wouldn't be quite right in front of her aunt's friends,
even if they did dress like her in skimpy lingerie.

Amna was sitting in the toilet, waiting for the shit she felt pushing
hard against her anus to finally release itself. Recent exertions in the
cause of erotic cinema had rather upset her excretory functions: making it
sometimes quite painful to shit and sometimes tightening up muscles inside
her that made her shits harder to achieve. Finally however the inevitable
occurred and, dismissing all memories of the large man who'd been buggering
her earlier today, she felt that merciful release she'd been striving for.

She stood up, flushed the loo, washed her hands and opened the door to
the bathroom to be rather astonished by the sight of Fatima, one of her
aunt's closer friends, who was standing outside in her stockings and silk.
Fatima was relatively young, in her later twenties, and had apparently been
married and divorced already in her life. Although her devotion to Islam
was unquestionable, she always seemed rather more fun to Amna than some
others of her aunt's friends who had never really managed to address her in
any way that made her feel at all respected. Fatima was, however, rather
astonished by Amna's naked appearance. Her eyebrows were raised high and
she gave rather an embarrassed laugh after noticing that she'd been staring
at Amna's nudity for rather too long. She hurriedly rushed into the
bathroom while an almost equally embarrassed Amna returned to her bedroom
and the magazine she'd been reading.

Amna enjoyed the privacy of her own bedroom even though she so rarely
slept there these days. She liked the sense of having her own space where
she could lie on the bed surrounded by images of her beloved Susan and
where she could smoke the cigarettes that despite her aunt's disapproval
she had recently taken up. Most of the other girls she worked with smoked.
It eradicated some of the taste of semen and saliva from the mouth and it
helped to relax muscles lower down. She'd also heard that it helped to
reduce weight and this was something that she was beginning to be more
anxious about as she became more focused on her marketable assets in the
fuck film industry.

She was rather annoyed when she heard a timid knock on the door and saw
her aunt poke her head round.

"Are you all right, Amna sweetheart?" Aunt Salim asked.

"Fine! Fine!" Said Amna aware of the faint aroma of tobacco but glad
she'd stubbed it out several minutes before.

"Do you want to come downstairs to join Fatima and me?"

"Must I?"

"Oh, Amna dearest. It's just that Fatima was saying that it was so sad
that you had to stay upstairs when she's visiting. She was saying that it
seemed so unfair on you to be stuck up here all alone."

"I'm okay here!" Amna insisted, but felt sufficiently curious to put on
the silk kimono her aunt had bought her and follow her to the living room
where Fatima was sitting reading one of her aunt's woman's magazines. The
article appeared to be something about sex and sanitary towels. Fatima
smiled as Amna sat down.

"That's a lovely kimono you've got on, Amna," she complimented her
friend's niece with a broad smile. "But Salim tells me that you don't
normally wear quite as much as that. Normally you don't wear anything."

Amna nodded. What had Fatima and her aunt have been talking about. "A
lot of clothes don't fit me so well. I've just been growing too big up
here," she said indicating her chest.

"I'm sure you have! Can we see?"

"Sorry?" Wondered Amna. What was her aunt's friend suggesting?

"Fatima's just wondering if we could see how much your breasts have
grown," Aunt Salim elucidated. "Come on, Amna, you can't be too shy about
showing her. After all you show your body to strange people every day."

"It's not the same thing!" Amna replied, but nevertheless she opened her
kimono so that her breasts were revealed to Fatima. They were certainly
getting larger, but Amna was beginning to think they weren't getting large
enough. She'd already started asking other girls with whom she was working
how their breasts had managed to be as large as they were, and although
their answer that it was by surgical enhancement had at first troubled her,
the idea was beginning to seem not so bad. Fatima was clearly quite
impressed by Amna's breasts as they were.

"Your niece is so beautiful!" Gasped Fatima. "I can see now why you're
so very fond of her. Perhaps I can understand better how you can feel
strongly towards her and not at all towards men."

"Amna is beautiful!" Reiterated Aunt Salim, standing behind her niece
and easing the kimono off so that Amna stood naked in front of Fatima.
"And so hairy too! Look at all this!"

Amna was feeling quite helpless but flattered as well as Aunt Salim and
Fatima admired her body and her aunt took advantage of the situation to run
her fingers over her body to Fatima's apparent approval. She also felt
somehow that she was taken advantage of in a more basic manner; a feeling
which rather grew as Fatima was shown and praised every facet of Amna's
body that her aunt chose to point out. It seemed so inevitable that her
aunt's tongue should soon join with hers and the two were caressing on the
sofa with Fatima still looking on in apparent approval. Amna protested
slightly when her aunt's hands strayed over her breasts and tweaked a
nipple in her fingers.

"What will Fatima think?" She gasped, but her aunt had other ideas and
engulfed her protests with a deeper kiss. She appeared even more
emboldened and her hands found their way between Amna's legs and started
stimulating Amna's clitoris. Aunt Salim gasped with the passion that was
driving through her body. Amna could feel the ecstatic twitch of the
muscles in her thighs as they gave vent to the low-level orgasms that her
aunt had become quite adept at. Aunt Salim's clothes had somehow also
disappeared, although Amna couldn't remember an occasion where either she
or her aunt had actually removed them. Amna enjoyed the feel of her aunt's
body against hers. It was so much better and more relaxed than the
physical exertions she endured in the cause of making a living. But wasn't
there something very wrong about making love while being watched by Fatima?

She pushed herself off her aunt to see what Fatima was doing and felt
both disappointed and relieved to see that Fatima was certainly not where
she had been sitting before. Perhaps she'd been so disgusted by her aunt's
assault on her body that she'd left in a hump. Feeling more relaxed in the
apparent absence of her aunt's friend she allowed herself to become more
attentive to Aunt Salim's needs: swivelling her body round so that she
could embed her tongue in her aunt's clitoris.

It was at that stage that she felt the presence of not one but two
tongues playing around in her crotch in amongst the furry mass of pubic
hair. She turned her head round and saw what she'd dreaded but had somehow
knew to be likely all along. There was the naked slim and light brown body
of Fatima trailed over her buttocks, her fingers and tongue playing
agitatedly in her crotch. Amna didn't know what to think. What did this
willing sharing of her body between two friends mean in relation to her
aunt's feelings towards her? If her aunt was happy for Fatima to make love
to her did that mean she was viewed just as a sex toy and secondarily as a
lover?

Fatima was however a somewhat better and demonstrably more experienced
lover than her aunt, and Amna enjoyed the sex far more than any she'd had
before either on the film set or previously with her aunt. She didn't want
it to stop, as Fatima's fingers probed and explored while simultaneously
stimulating her clitoris, anus or nipples. And when they eventually did
stop, collapsed in a sweaty heap on the living room floor, faces flushed
with passion and guilt, Amna knew that although she'd still not obtained
the orgasmic release her new profession had taught her to desire, she would
still be quite happy to return to the embracing that she'd so recently
enjoyed. And, as it happened, it took relatively little effort for Amna to
reinitiate events starting this time with Fatima's perky small breasts and
the tiny well-formed toes at the end of her slim angular legs.

The following day, Amna wasn't that surprised when she returned home to
her aunt's flat after an afternoon looking round the shops to find her aunt
and Fatima embracing on the sofa in the living room: tongues deep inside
each other's mouths and hands probing around the breasts and vagina. Amna
didn't even really feel that jealous. Her career had by now reduced the
effects of that, although it did cross her mind to wonder what her rôle in
her aunt's sex life might now be. Perhaps, she thought in an unfocused
way, she might be sleeping in her own bed tonight. It did annoy her though
that she wouldn't be able to play the compact discs she'd just bought on
her aunt's somewhat better audio system and would have to use her own
somewhat cheaper and less impressive one.

She wandered along to her room, and threw herself and her purchases onto
the bed. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her tee-shirt and lowered
her jeans and knickers to her ankles and with a few energetic kicks tossed
them across the room onto the loose pile of clothes where she kept most of
what she chose to wear these days. She placed a compact disc in the
machine, and gyrated to the music while removing the last few items of
clothing she still had on. She always felt happy after shopping. All
those hours in the boutiques and record stores, picking, choosing,
comparing. And after all that the pleasure of returning home and admiring
the rewards of her labours. She took a cigarette out of the packet, tapped
it unnecessarily on the side and lit it. She then spread the length of her
body, front down on the soft down of her duvet, now much the worse for the
cigarette ash and the odd burn mark, with a copy of Dream Girl, the teen
magazine she'd bought from a newsagent. It was the usual sort of magazine
she read: full of pictures of semi-clad boys rather more attractive than
the ones who fucked her at work, interspersed with articles on
contraception, menstruation, astrology and examination stress. She
particularly enjoyed doing the questionnaires. Am I a great fuck? she
posed herself, while awarding herself points in a questionnaire which
decided for her that perhaps she wasn't a great fuck, although she wasn't
really that bad.

She then heard a knock knock on the door. Annoyed, Amna jumped up.
What could her aunt want now? Why couldn't she leave her be! She stubbed
out the cigarette she'd been smoking; resolving to return later to the
half-inch or so that was left. She opened the door and was surprised to
see Fatima, looking rather flushed in a full set of lingerie but missing
her knickers. She seemed both quite excited and quite unhappy.

"Can I come in, Amna sweetest?" Fatima asked.

Amna nodded petulantly. What a drag! She tucked her magazine away, and
rather regretted now stubbing out her cigarette. Amna didn't care what
Fatima thought of her smoking. Her aunt's friend sat down on the chair
opposite Amna, pressed her chin against the tip of fingers set in a praying
position and smiled at Amna.

"Your aunt and I have been talking about your career..." Fatima began.

"It's a job. It earns me money. What's wrong with it?"

"Your aunt doesn't like it very much. But that's beside the point. My
view is that you're not doing as well at it as you could be. Salim's told
me about how much you get paid, and, if you don't mind me saying so, it
sounds like chickenshit. All that fucking, and you're barely earning what
a high class prostitute gets in a single night. You could be performing in
straight repertory theatre and be earning just as much. What you earn now
might seem good, but you're not really paying the rent or mortgage you'd
have to do if you weren't living with your aunt. Let alone the bills for
all the utilities. My opinion is that you really are not maximising your
potential earnings."

Fatima's view was uncomfortably close to one that had occurred to Amna
when she was working on the set of Filipino Fuck Fun and felt that she was
getting fucked just as much as her colleagues and getting nothing like the
rewards they were. She'd thought that maybe it was because she was the
only one who wasn't Filipino, but she knew that couldn't be the only
reason.

"I'm a saleswoman by trade," Fatima continued. "I sell perfumery,
lingerie, make-up, that sort of thing. But I've also sold computers,
dictionaries, garden furniture and photocopiers. I know about selling. I
know what it takes to get a product to shift and to maximise returns. What
you need, Amna dearest, is an agent. And although your aunt isn't too keen
to do so, I'm willing to act as one for you."

Amna sneered scornfully. "You're not going to do that for nothing, are
you? There must be something in it for you."

"Well, yes. Ten percent initially. Rising to twenty, when we get
things moving. But there's good money in fuck films. And I'm quite
interested in getting a stake in it. Salim might hope that you'll grow out
of it, but I don't see why you can't just make as much as you can from what
you're going to do anyway. What do you think? I'm sure I can enhance your
earnings quite substantially."

Amna sighed. "I'm not sure! I don't know what to think!" She looked
across at a poster of her beloved Susan for guidance, knowing full well
that none would be forthcoming. Fatima followed her gaze, and smiled in
apparent approval.

"She's a very pretty girl, isn't she? Are you a fan?"

Amna nodded sadly. "She's why I'm in fuck films."

"Oh you poor darling!" Exclaimed Fatima, appearing to understand more
than she possibly could from this brief exchange. She stood up and walked
over to the bed. She lay down on it next to Amna, her long thin legs
stretched out beyond Amna's and her satin supported breasts pressed against
Amna's back. "You poor sweetheart!" She continued running her manicured
nails along Amna's spine. She then, with a touch of boldness, put her hand
between Amna's legs and brushed her pubic hairs. Amna made no response.
She looked towards the poster of Susan, a penis deep inside her cunt and
another probing at an angle into her mouth.

Fatima became increasingly bolder, and soon Amna could no longer feign
indifference. She turned round, remembering the pleasure of their one
previous time of lovemaking and pushed her tongue deep inside Fatima's
mouth, visualising Susan as she did so. Fatima gasped deeply and vocally,
pulled off her bra as she did so, briefly dangling it over Amna's naked
buttocks and then dropping it onto the now crumpled copy of Dream Girl.
Fatima was definitely a much more spirited lover than her aunt, Amna
decided as the two rolled over and over, more of Fatima's underwear being
shed on the way, crumpling the empty plastic shopping bags and discarded
magazines as they did so.

They had been making love for several minutes before Amna noticed her
aunt standing by the slightly ajar door watching the two of them, mouth to
genitals, hair between teeth. She looked as if she had been crying, and
getting no pleasure at all in watching the two of them at play. Amna
detached herself from Fatima whom she suspected had noticed Aunt Salim long
before her and had simply ignored her. Fatima smiled at her friend.

"Fatty! How could you?" Gasped Aunt Salim in a kind of sob.

"Sally! Don't worry. I'll be with you soon. Just wait. I told you
that when I make my mind up to do something, I do it."

Aunt Salim nodded, and carefully shut the door behind her, leaving
Fatima and Amna engaged in lovemaking for several hours more. Amna found
herself feeling much more strongly towards her slender lover, with the
sharp angles of her knees and elbows, the round breasts rising so well
formed from a chest in which her ribs could be seen (unlike Amna's which
could never be distinguished except by touch). The feel of her perfectly
formed nipples and the slight boniness of her buttocks. However, Amna
wasn't too surprised, when after relaxing for several minutes in each
other's postcoital embrace, Fatima collected up her underwear and left her
alone for the rest of the evening.

This was in fact the first night Amna had had at home by herself in her
own bed for a very long time. She knew that Fatima and her aunt were
sharing the same bed, and she knew that there was no part for her to play
in their lovemaking tonight. As she nestled down with the last few minutes
of Paris Grey booming from her speakers, she gazed at her favourite poster
of Susan and reflected on her lovemaking with Fatima. It somehow made it
easier for her to confront the following day when she was sure she'd have
to endure yet more anal penetration from the fat Filipino who was the main
star in her present production. Perhaps with Fatima's help she would gain
more for her not inconsiderable physical pains.

XXXI



"Emma! I love you! I love you! Emma! So Much!" Gasped Maisie in
orgasmic pleasure, her body shivering with ecstasy and her voice peculiarly
full-throated for one so young.

Emma grimaced. Although she was the object of her young lover's
affection, it was obvious she wasn't the stimulus as the young boy pushed
his erect prick in and out of her tight young anus. How could an orifice
so small, but so beautifully pursed, allow such a large obscene thing into
it? Emma wondered, lying on one side of her as Maisie crouched over, bum
high in the high, receiving these insistent thrusts with such pleasure.

Ever since she and Maisie had moved into the small house that she had
managed to buy with a mortgage based on her present and future earnings,
their love life had taken a very peculiar turn which Emma didn't really
enjoy at all, but felt incapable of complaining about. At the flat it had
been Josephine and Susan mostly, but now it was boys she had met on the set
or at her school. Emma still avoided all contact with men, but she felt
unable to deny her lover the sexual pleasure she so much desired and
expected. It sometimes felt that Maisie's well-intentioned practice of
never excluding Emma from her lovemaking added insult to injury, but she
knew that in her own way it was somehow a tribute to the depth of her love
for the woman who she insisted was central to her life.

Maisie had been enrolled, at some expense, at a single sex school which
would cope with her career in sex television, to the extent of the
flexibility with which it accepted her occasional day off for filming, and
which had no difficulty with her habitual nudity. At least she would be
nude, if only she didn't insist on wearing a large dildo buckled to her
buttocks and waist which protruded rather oddly through her shorts or the
swimsuit she wore specially adapted for the affectation. The school had a
naturist policy, although not all the pupils were at all fixed on
habitually nudity, and some indeed, like Maisie, were rather dressing
against the pure principles of naturism as Emma understood it or practised.
Maisie wore her dildo proudly at school, caring little for the fact that it
looked rather bizarre in a girl who was far from adult height and stretched
proportionately rather further in front of her than it would in an adult
man.

All the teachers were naturist however, but also practised the school's
policy of not imposing any dress code on the pupils except in sports or
physical exercise lessons. Those girls who wished to, and there were quite
a few, could wear just as many clothes as they liked. Bizarrely, this was
often in direct revolt against their naturist parents and their normal
social set, taking off their clothes when they returned home.

Although there were no boys at Maisie's school, she and the other girls had no difficulty meeting them: presumably because they were attracted like
flies to jam to the sight and sensation of so much young naked flesh.
These boys invariably found their way into Maisie's bed and with very
little difficulty inside her smooth vagina and occasionally her anus.
Maisie made little distinction between her girl- and boyfriends, and often
made love with girls from her school, an activity which Emma had less
difficulty in understanding and no difficulty at all in participating in.
Many of them were at least as beautiful as Maisie, though few had such
luxurious curls and, to Emma's mind, such a beautiful combination of
physical and personality characteristics. Emma quite enjoyed the
comparison and contrast in these other young bodies to that of Maisie's,
and felt rather less compunction in stretching the bounds of her sexual
passion towards her slightly brutal tendencies (about which many had quite
serious reservations)

One of Maisie's friends, Letitia, was a particular delight to Emma,
although neither she nor Maisie had made love to her. Nor in fact had
anyone else. Like Emma, she was proud to be a naturist; but a naturist who
never took down her black knickers and preferred conversation to sex. She
would chat for hours with Emma and Maisie, seemingly never worried about
the way the two of them would enmesh their bodies around each other. She
only objected when other people became involved. Letitia believed quite
firmly that love was not something that could be shared, and often told
Maisie so.

"Oh, Letitia, you're so boring!" Maisie exclaimed. "Why not join me and
Emma? We can show you what love's really like!"

"That must be the greatest contradiction in words you can imagine!"
Letitia argued. "It's one thing for you two to make love as lovers, and
another just to have sex with any boy who wants to stick his willy up your
bum!"

Emma found herself agreeing with Letitia, but she couldn't herself
imagine a life now without the sex she'd got used to with some of Maisie's
girlfriends and some of the women at the studio. She'd almost got used to
being filmed making love to women on camera. She had learnt to blank out
all thought of the prying eyes that were on her as she gasped, groaned and
grunted while a sex actress, a sex tourist or a writer indulged on set in
their mutually shared passion.

Maisie's adoption of a dildo wasn't for show alone. There were many
occasions when she'd use it: quite often on Maisie and sometimes with girls she'd make love to, but curiously the most frequent recipients were the
boys. There was a cruel streak in Maisie's lovemaking as there was in
Emma's, and hers was most revealed by the way she liked to fuck boys in the
anus while gripping their erect penises and massaging them to full
erection. She said she had claimed more boy's virginities than anyone else
she knew, quite happy with the trace of blood on her dildo after eventually
withdrawing it from the battered and torn and quite inappropriate entrances
she had so gleefully violated. Despite Emma's lack of feeling towards men,
she felt quite sorry for some of them, who may have been virgins in the
more strict sense of the word, who had not anticipated quite such a violent
initiation service and often felt horribly abused afterwards. They would
lie naked on the bed, feeling around the entrances to their bum, wondering
what permanent damage had been caused and feeling no doubt rather
discomfited by the fact that Maisie's yells of ecstasy had focused rather
more on Emma than on themselves.

Emma occasionally visited Josephine and Charlotte, and enjoyed more than
she ever had before Charlotte's tenderness and devotion. She loved
Charlotte's uncomplicated love, although she accepted now that she was very
much secondary to Josephine. She even understood why Charlotte was so keen
on marriage to Josephine, although she shared Susan's scepticism of the
point of taking up marital status while neither she nor her fiancee showed
any intention of leading the monogamous life-style that was normally
associated with such a state.

She was, however, disgusted at discovering that Charlotte, despite
professing her lesbianism so vehemently, was having sex nearly every day
with not just Josephine but a whole string of men with the express purpose
of becoming pregnant.

"But you won't possibly be able to know who the father is!" She
objected.

"So much the better!" Charlotte replied. "I don't want any man laying
claim on my baby. Or should I say our baby, as it will be the child of
Josephine and me. men aren't going to figure in our parenthood. I just
hope it's a girl."

"But don't you care at all what the child might turn out to be like?"

"What matters is not the genetic parenthood but that the child belongs
to both of us. I can't wait to be pregnant. And as far as I'm concerned,
if I'm pregnant then Josephine will be the father."

"Just as you'll be the father, if I'm ever pregnant," remarked Josephine
sweetly, but looking ever so slightly uncomfortable.



XXXII



Fatima didn't believe in starting any endeavour without doing some
research first, so she found her way to the set of Schoolboy Fuck Fun,
where Susan was currently being filmed, to have a few words with an
experienced fuck film star. She spent a long time preparing herself:
applying blood red lipstick and choosing clothes that showed as much
stockinged leg as was physically possible and which showed all but the
nipples of her perky full breasts. She had no wish to be recognised in
this present attire by anyone she knew (particularly from either the asian or Islamic community) and wore a pair of very dark sun-glasses to disguise
herself. She watched with some interest as Susan and others were being
fucked by the male stars or themselves did the fucking with the dildos
provided; but she didn't choose to reveal herself to Susan until the
filming finished and Susan was preparing to go home.

Susan was dressed as she mostly did these days: a pair of shorts and
nothing else to obscure her essential androgyny, especially the flatness of
her chest. She wore a six inch dildo around her buttocks which thrust out
grotesquely through her open flies and a pair of flat shoes. She emerged
from the changing room by herself, looking somehow small and insecure.
Fatima strode towards her, smiling and greeted her by name.

"How do you know who I am?"

"My lover, Salim, told me all about you," Fatima explained. "I'd like
to have a chat with you, if that's alright."

"Is it about Salim?"

"No, not at all! I want to chat about Amna. You know Amna, don't you?
You introduced her to the sex film industry."

"Well, yes. I did." Susan blurted out, with an attack of guilt. "But I
didn't know she was a virgin. And I didn't know she was obsessed with me."

"I don't blame you for anything, Susan. I've come to you for advice."

"Advice?"

"Yes. I've taken on the task of acting as Amna's agent. I just want to
find out more about the industry she's working in. Would you like to join
me for a meal?"

"I've got nothing else arranged. Where have you got in mind?"

"La Maison Declasse," Fatima suggested, mentioning a restaurant that was
known to be both expensive and fashionable. Susan readily agreed and the
two of them were soon sitting opposite each other ignoring the stares they
were attracting from the other guests (particularly the male ones). Fatima
kept on her dark glasses and smiled broadly at Susan after they'd ordered
the first two courses.

"I just want advice. I really don't know a great deal about your
industry. I've sold washing machines. I've sold lipstick. And I've sold
encyclopaedias. What I need to know from you is what Amna's most valuable
assets are and how to maximise their sales potential."

Susan mused over this. "Her best asset is undoubtedly her breasts.
She's got a good pair of tits. All she needs is to improve them and
promote them."

"Would surgery be the best course?"

"Undoubtedly! I can give you the name of a few good surgeons. Perhaps
a bit of thigh enhancement. More pouty lips, maybe. She also needs to
improve her physical technique. A bit of exercise, not only in making love
but also to lose some of the fat around her stomach."

Fatima pulled out a small notebook and started jotting down some of what
Susan was saying: "Breasts. Thighs. Lips. Waist. Technique. What about
her hairiness?"

"That's okay: although she ought to reduce some of it on her arms and
arsehole. It's expected that she be a bit hairy. And her colour's a good
asset too. Better to be too dark than too light."

The conversation continued in this form over the wine, food and
accordion; and Fatima gradually moved the conversation around to Susan.
She felt quite gratified to realise that even fuck film stars had worries.
She learnt about her passion for Charlotte, her loss of feeling for sex
with men and the feeling she had that she had no real lover herself,
"excluding Amna, of course," she remarked as an aside.

It was inevitable that Fatima should be invited back to Susan's flat,
and the two wandered along the street: Fatima nearly blind in the evening
light who continued wearing her dark glasses despite the dimness and Susan
attracting attention from the unsubtlety of her protruding dildo. Fatima
felt a certain degree of alarm when she recognised Amna's brother staring
at them, but was sure that he didn't recognise her at all and was rather
more distracted by Susan's rather odd appearance.

The two of them went up to Susan's flat and as the young girl opened the
door, Fatima was rather alarmed to hear the unmistakable sound of loud and
passionate cries of lovemaking echoing about the flat.

"It's only Charlotte and Josephine!" Susan explained, slightly opening
the door to the living room where Fatima could see two men and two women
engaged in very obvious fucking. Two penises were deep inside Josephine's
lower orifices while Charlotte's tongue engaged itself furiously on the
long erect lengths of them. Susan sighed slightly and closed the door.

"Doesn't it bother you slightly?" Fatima wondered.

Susan turned about to look directly at Fatima's sympathetic face. She
nodded shyly. "I just wish Charlotte would show more affection towards
me."

Fatima put her arms around Susan's bare shoulders and pulled her little
girl body close to her. Susan sighed again and applied her lips to
Fatima's. The older woman hooked her thumbs around the top of Susan's
shorts and eased them down while passionately licking Susan's teeth. She
could sense Susan's professional skills as the small girl reciprocated by
easing off her own clothes and directing her caresses where Fatima felt the
greatest need. She could also sense Susan's desperation for affection and
some of the girl's loneliness. She took command of the situation.

"Shall we have some wine and a chat first?" She suggested, producing a
bottle from the bag she carried with her. "Then we can make love until
morning."

"You'd like that?" Susan asked with some trepidation.

"Very much so!" Said Fatima unfastening Susan's dildo and stroking her
hand over the stubble of Susan's vulva. "Very much so!"

Susan's advice was not ignored, despite Amna's initial complaints.
However, the first thing Amna was aware of, as she gradually regained
consciousness after the operation, was a slight sharp pain beneath her
breasts and a duller one below her shoulders. The second thing, as she
opened her eyes, was the sight of her aunt and Fatima kissing each other
passionately while they stood at the end of the hospital bed in which she
lay. She leaned forward, but in doing so she felt the pain around her
breasts more sharply and a most unusual dull sensation around nipples that
felt strangely stretched. She groaned slightly and let her body collapse
back onto the bed, attracting Aunt Salim and her lover's attention as she
did so.

"She's waking up!" Exclaimed Aunt Salim, guiltily pushing Fatima off her
and rushing over to Amna's side wearing a long dark dress and with her hair
gathered under her silk scarf. "How are you, Amna, dearest? How do you
feel after the operation?"

"Operation?" Wondered Amna, gradually recalling the circumstances which
led to her being in the hospital bed. Her eyes scanned the brilliant white
walls, the utilitarian metal furniture, the pushed back screen and Fatima,
dressed far more modestly than she was accustomed to seeing her. Except
for the dark redness of her lipstick, and the blueness around her eyes, she
was dressed much the same as her aunt: not a trace of hair free of her
scarf and nothing but her hands and face otherwise visible under her green
satin jelaba. "What operation?"

"The one for your breasts!" Fatima reminded her taking her hand in her
own and squeezing it firmly. "Don't you remember?"

"Breasts?" Asked Amna pulling up her arms and touching them with her
dark fingers. She was naked except for a pair of white knickers and could
feel the unfamiliar bulk of her breasts and her enlarged nipples. "I had
them enhanced, didn't I? That's right, isn't it!"

"It most certainly is!" Exclaimed Fatima gently easing the cotton sheet
down to Amna's waist so that she could see them more clearly. "The
surgeon's certainly done a good job on them. They look much better."

Aunt Salim gasped. "They're enormous! And unnatural! Are you sure
we've done the right thing, Fatty?"

"Of course we have!" Fatima reassured her. "Don't you think, Amna?
You've now got a beautiful pair of forty eight double D cup, darling. Your
breasts will be the envy of everyone!"

Amna self-consciously explored the contours and the strange weight of
them. Her aunt was right. They were enormous! And they felt so hard and
firm! She sat up slowly and felt them slowly drop as she became less
horizontal. "What do they look like? I don't look like a freak do I?"

"Not at all!" Fatima reassured her. "What do you think, Sally?"

Aunt Salim seemed less certain, but she nodded passively. "They make
you look very ... nice."

Amna cupped her hands underneath them and supported their great weight.
"I'm not a freak, am I?" She repeated. "Is there a mirror I can look in?"

Aunt Salim opened her handbag and looked inside, while the more
resourceful Fatima stood up and unhooked a mirror from the wall and brought
it over to the bed. She rested it on the bed sheets in front of Amna so
she could gaze at the whole of her torso. Her breasts were monstrous! Not
the biggest she'd seen on the set, but amongst the largest. They were very
round. Very firm. And much bigger than she'd imagined they'd be. She
placed her hands under them and jiggled them up and down.

"I'm not sure. Are they really mine? Can I change them back?"

"Don't be silly!" Laughed Fatima, leaning over and licking her nipples.
"They're beautiful! You'll never want to change back! They're you! Just
as much as your beautiful eyes. Your sexy mouth. And your welcoming
vagina."

"I hope you're right!" Reflected Amna, aware now that unlike having a
haircut or a manicure this was one change of her appearance she couldn't
easily reverse.

She left the hospital later that day, wearing a rather large shirt over
her top and a pair of jeans. As she was led to the taxi by her aunt and
her agent, she felt terribly self-conscious as people stared at her,
perhaps wondering whether she was pregnant. She felt a desperate need to
feel her breasts, to reassure herself that she was all right, to feel once
again the curious new contours of her body, but restrained herself until
she arrived home.

Fatima lay in bed with her for the rest of the day, masturbating her
gently and massaging her breasts. Amna knew that at least one person loved
her new appearance, but felt rather disturbed that her aunt was so shy of
looking at her. In fact, she seemed to direct her gaze anywhere but at her
breasts, and relegated herself to preparing food in the kitchen and tidying
up the house. Fatima was much more enthusiastic.

"This will mark the start of a much more prosperous film career!" She
exclaimed with delight, nibbling softly at Amna's now almost permanently
erect nipples. "We'll be able to double your rate to match the doubling of
your breasts!" She stroked a finger over Amna's mouth. "Then we'll do the
lips. Then the thighs. And perhaps there's something we can do to enhance
your beautiful buttocks."

Although Amna was aware that these enhancements would improve her market
value, she found her new breasts rather an inconvenience. Initially at
least, it was very difficult for her to even leave the house. Partly this
was to do with her continued self-consciousness about her enhanced figure.
Everyone stared at her. Their eyes were focused only on her breasts and
hardly at all on the rest of her. Heads turned as she walked along the
street. People stopped short in their tracks as they walked towards her,
and stared long and hard at the magnificent wealth of breast that was
barely hidden at all under her shirt.

The other reason was more practical. Not many clothes were made for
women with her new enhanced figure - or at least those that did enclose her
breasts were far from flattering. They either made her look pregnant or
several generations older than she was. There were no dresses that looked
even remotely attractive, and her breasts swelled out the contours of any
blouse or tee-shirt. Fatima worked hard however to correct this. "You
can't go to a film shoot not looking sexy, dearest," she said, while
specifying details of dimensions to clothes manufacturers over the
video-phone. "We've got to get you some brassieres and tops which show
your breasts to their best advantage."

Soon enough, Fatima's endeavours supplied Amna with a choice of tops
that made no effort whatsoever to disguise the enormity of her breasts:
pushing them up, maximising the cleavage and ensured they pointed ahead.
They were also quite uncomfortable and Amna felt relieved when she could
return home and pull off her top and lie around the house naked. Fatima
clearly enjoyed this, and her lovemaking with Amna had become much more
passionate whereas Aunt Salim became a rather more infrequent lover.
Fatima relished every contour and every detail of her breasts, and chortled
with delight as Amna described the difficulties her fresh assets had caused
her.

"You wait," she said, her head squeezed between Amna's legs. "You'll
soon see how much your breasts will enhance your career. I almost wish I
had a pair like yours myself."

Amna restrained herself from asking Fatima why then it was she and not
Fatima who had the burden of carrying them around with her.

Fatima's sex life had meanwhile become very complicated, as she
reflected, her lips sealed to Josephine's mouth and a penis deep inside her
anus. Susan was sharing her lips between Josephine's and her own cunt,
while the man fucking her was also delving his tongue inside Josephine's
vagina. From the adjacent bedroom came cries of passion from Charlotte who
was being fucked by a tall dark-skinned man with a hooked nose and a pair
of athletic buttocks which thrust and thrust again into the deepest
recesses of Charlotte's cunt, her legs high up and clutched around his
waist. Fatima had got rather used to the easy promise of sex available at
Susan's flat and enjoyed the attention of the men who had come with the
promise of sex with the enfianced couple. She had always rather preferred
a good fuck with a man to the more leisurely and rather more prolonged
lovemaking she had become accustomed to with women. It hadn't taken her
long to inveigle herself into the lovemaking routines at Susan's flat and
rather enjoyed her new status as Susan's lover: one that the small oriental
seemed to prefer for Fatima's very lack of wanting to commit herself whole-
heartedly to it.

"It's so much better when there's no jealousy involved," Susan would say
as the two shared the ends of a double-headed dildo. "Aisha always wanted
more from me than I could possibly offer. How can a sex actress ever be
serious about a relationship?"

How indeed? mused Fatima running her tongue around the rearmost of
Susan's molars and tasting yet again the sweetness of her spittle (so much
nicer than the taste of nicotine that stuck to Amna's palate). She
particularly enjoyed making love to Josephine whose affection for Charlotte
was quite unfeigned, though she showed rather more eagerness than her
fiancee for making love to their Muslim guest.

Amna was Fatima's protegee, however, and Fatima felt a powerful
obligation towards her. Particularly with regard to improving her
technique. It was not enough, she believed, simply to enrol the young girl in sex education classes where the girl was learning how to fellate,
masturbate and fake orgasms convincingly. She needed much more personal
tuition despite the fact that her agent always found it rather less than
completely satisfying. Amna had not yet learnt to really enjoy sex. She
was always somewhat distant from the intimate activity centred on her cunt or breasts. The latter still caused her anxiety (particularly with regard
to what her family might think of them) and much of Fatima's lovemaking
concentrated on trying to persuade her that her newly enlarged breasts made
her much more sexy and attractive. Privately, Fatima wondered herself on
the wisdom of the operation. Amna was so self-conscious about them that
rather than parade them to her best advantage, she went out of her way to
obscure them; although she was happy not to wear any clothes around the
house.

"And your lips. They could be oh! even more kissable with some
enhancement!" She tried to persuade Amna who was not inclined to disagree
with her agent's advice. "And those buttocks! They could be so much more
firm and delightful with such little effort!"

Amna nodded, as she obediently bobbed up and down on the dildo strapped
around Fatima's waist which thrust so deep inside her but stirred nothing
more than the most vapid of responses. Fatima would chew Amna's clitoris,
thrust two fingers deep inside her anus while fucking her from the front,
nibble her newly enlarged nipples, and push vegetables inside an orifice
while busily stimulating her vagina with a tongue. Amna dutifully gasped
and groaned, but Fatima could detect the insincerity. She just hoped that
all the expensive lessons and her own time-consuming personal tuition would
eventually bring the young girl to more genuine orgasms, and that at the
very least they would be satisfactory for the career she was planning for
her.

She persuaded Amna to take regular and relatively vigorous exercise to
trim her waist, build up the muscles of her thighs and enable her to
perform more enthusiastically for longer on the sets of films. She
supplied her with an exercise bicycle and some weights, and supervised her
ward as she went through the regulation exercises, monitoring her progress
with a stopwatch and a tape measure. She made no effort to discourage Amna
from smoking although she personally abhorred the habit. She was aware
that this depressed the girl's appetite and would hopefully wean her off
the fatty and unhealthy food that she was still too inordinately fond of.

It was a strain on Fatima to continue her coaching of Amna. The age
difference and outlook was undeniable. She really had no fondness for the
loud electronic pop music that Amna listened to and got rapidly bored with
the limited range of the girl's conversation on pop music, films and
fashion. She also hid from Amna as much as possible all evidence of her
own relationship with Susan, whom the young girl still idolised. It
afforded Fatima some pleasure to sit and watch videos of Susan in the
various fuck films Amna rented from the video library. She was able to
compare Susan the fuck actress with the Susan she knew so very much more
intimately. There was no doubting that Susan was a consummate star and
showed off her assets (or lack of them) to very good advantage. Her
ambition was for Amna to use her own assets (particularly her recently
enhanced ones) to very much the same effect, but was often discouraged by
Amna's real lack of genuine taste for the profession she had chosen.
Fatima unashamedly used Amna's idol as an object of emulation and hinted
again and again that one of the rewards of a successful career in sex films
could very well be the opportunity to make love to Susan. Hints which
Fatima also believed she would do nothing herself to facilitate, and
doubted anyway that Amna was truly to Susan's taste. Her oriental lover
preferred more mature and certainly more passionate lovers than poor young Amna.

She spent most nights in bed with Salim whom she still thought of more
as her best friend than as her lover. She knew that Salim rued the loss of
the exclusiveness of her relationship with Amna and was more than a little
uncomfortable with the idea of the three of them sharing mutual sexual
experiences; although it was relatively rarely that Amna and Salim made
love together with Fatima. Salim was quite passionately in love with
Fatima and very fond of Amna, but uncomfortably aware that her friend for
so many years had somehow changed the pattern of her sex life to her
disadvantage.

Fatima was undoubtedly fond of Salim, but she found the lovemaking
rather uninspiring, especially when compared to the passion and ecstasy she
found at Susan's flat. Salim was more tender and more contemplative in her
lovemaking, unhappy with using anything other than fingers to penetrate her
vagina and happiest with the sensual rather than the more physical
activities. Fatima sometimes found herself having to politely request that
Salim cease her constant licking of her cunt, which she had started shaving
following Susan's example, so that she could roll over and go to sleep.
She felt embarrassed by Salim's frequent assertions of love, which she felt
obliged to reciprocate only because she felt responsible for having seduced
her friend's affection. However much Fatima enjoyed Salim's company as a
friend, she felt that Salim lacked something quite critical when it came to
sex. After having been spoilt by the sexual abandon of the oriental girl who was the real lover in her life, Salim's own approaches seemed so gauche
and clumsy.

"Are you really so tired?" Pleaded Salim, sitting up in the bed and
smiling unhappily.

Fatima nodded silently and firmly, covering her breasts with the silk
sheets. "Let's get some sleep, Sally dear."

XXXIII



"I'm pregnant!" Shouted Charlotte joyfully, running into the flat
pulling off her overcoat as she did so and revealing her naked body
underneath. "Josephine! It's official! I'm pregnant! And you're the
father!"

Josephine had only just relieved herself of the weight of her own
clothes while persuading young Robert, (the man she'd invited back for the
two of them) to drop his trousers and reveal the erect penis she was about
to exercise with her lips and tongue. She let the purple mass of the glans
fall out of her mouth and jumped up to greet her lover. She put her arms
around Charlotte's shoulders and pulled her close to her while showering
her face with kisses.

"That's wonderful news!" She exclaimed showing her joy in her lover's
own delight. "Absolutely wonderful! But I can't possibly be considered
the father..."

"Who else can? And in my eyes only you can be considered the real
father. I shall be the mother and what else can you be?" Charlotte noticed
Robert sitting sheepishly on the edge of the bed, his penis still fully
erect and still moist with the traces of Josephine's saliva. "Oh hello,
there! I'm pregnant! At last! All our hard work. Rewarded! The doctor
said there was no doubt about it. We're going to be parents. You and I,
Josephine. Parents! We must get married soon."

"We must! We must!" Agreed Josephine, who despite her own pleasure was
more than a little concerned about what to do with Robert whose services
seemed pretty well redundant now.

"Is Susan in? I must tell her the good news. She must know as well."

Susan wasn't in, although she arrived a few hours later with Fatima.
Josephine was pleased to see that despite the ostensible reason for
inviting Robert around (to assist in getting Charlotte pregnant) was no
longer terribly relevant, Charlotte was so overwhelmed with happiness that
it wasn't at all long until the three of them were indulging in as frantic
and as single-minded a love session as ever before. Robert was clearly
more than a little put out by the manipulative fashion in which he was used
by the two lovers, but Charlotte still enjoyed his thrusts into her
well-oiled vagina while she delved her tongue deep into Josephine's mouth.
He did not appreciate at all the way he was pushed to one side when Susan
appeared, wearing just a dildo and a single-breasted jacket, with Fatima
wearing nothing but her black silk stockings and stilettos.

"It's happened at last!" Charlotte announced to Susan who was still
consumed in envy at Josephine's much stronger grip on Charlotte's
affections. "I'm going to be a mother. And Josephine's the father!"

Fatima and Susan joined in the celebrations and took turns at being
fucked by Robert who, however tired he was getting, was stimulated into
life by the expert tongues and fingers of the four very voracious women:
sometimes penetrating Fatima, sometimes Susan and most often of all
Charlotte to whom the other three women always deferred. She had somehow
gained a primacy of attention, and Josephine knew this wasn't merely to do
with her being pregnant. For the only woman in the company who ever
professed to being a lesbian she was also strangely enough the one who got
the most unfeigned pleasure from being fucked by a man. As long as she was
also having love made to her at the same time by a woman it didn't shake
her professed preference for lesbian sex. It wasn't too long until
Josephine was huddled into a trio of lovemaking with Susan and Fatima,
while Charlotte rocked backwards and forwards under the constant, almost
mechanical, thrusts provided by Robert, her legs high in the air, her hands
gripping the edges of the bed and sweat running down her brow, over her
shoulders and dripping steadily onto the sheets. All the while she
observed Fatima's eyes roaming enviously towards the heterosexual
lovemaking, her tongue deep in the rich smells of Susan's vagina and her
anus being deeply penetrated by Josephine's fingers.

The news of Charlotte's pregnancy had to be spread. As soon as the
lovemaking was over and Charlotte had recovered sufficiently from her spent
passions, she was on the telephone to her parents whom Josephine gauged
were not quite as overwhelmed with joy at their daughter carrying the child
of one of an uncountable selection of men as Charlotte would have liked
them to have been. "It doesn't matter who donated the sperm," Charlotte
was explaining, her happiness slightly compromised, "the real father is
Josephine." Her lover was touched by Charlotte's unswerving loyalty to her,
although she had more than a little sympathy for the parents' lack of
enthusiasm, particularly as she reflected on the decided coolness of her
own parents towards even the notion of marriage to a woman. The
unalterable fact was that there was no very easy way of tracking down the
real father, except by genetic sampling. And that only if the man could be
ever located: itself not especially easy in the world of Sex actors.

The next to be informed was Emma, who was at home, although quite
clearly Maisie wasn't. In the few words Josephine had with Emma it was
clear that although the woman whom Charlotte believed still deserved that
proportion of the affection not reserved for Josephine herself was not so
much overwhelmed by happiness with what Charlotte considered as good news
as somewhat upset and bitter by the absence from home, on rather more
nights than not, of her own lover. Emma was at least very supportive of
her best friend, promising to come round almost immediately: a promise that
no one doubted she would fulfil.

Emma was soon at the flat, sniffed disdainfully at Robert who was lying
asleep on her old bed and greeted Fatima with a distinct lack of affection.
But for Charlotte and Josephine she soon submerged her own feelings of
bitterness and sadness, and the three women were soon embracing each other
on the other bed. Both Josephine and Emma huddled around Charlotte's
stomach and vagina, which was rather more notable for the smell of semen
and vaginal juice than for any visible traces of pregnancy, although
Josephine fancied that, through the taut muscles of Charlotte's stomach,
she could feel a swelling she'd not noticed before. Susan and Fatima
looked on from a distance: the oriental girl's face seeming rather
tragically sad and her dildo quite ridiculous projecting from between her
slim thighs; and her lover rather embarrassed and uncomfortable.

However, why should Josephine care? She smiled at Emma, whose face was
inches from her own as Charlotte sighed in quiet ecstasy while her two
lovers lazily engaged their attention around her lower regions. She looked
up at the woman to whom she had announced her paternity and felt
overwhelmed by the strength of the passion and love that was projected.
She felt thoroughly unworthy of such devotion, particularly as she was
still hiding her own infertility and therefore inequality in the two
lovers' baby-making endeavours. A powerful wave of emotion rippled over
her as she reflected on the commitment Charlotte had expressed to her: a
commitment which went as far as was humanly possible in a homosexual relationship. A commitment which would soon as much encompass parenthood
and marriage as any heterosexual relationship, and one in which she was so
much more the equal partner than could otherwise be possible. She kissed
Emma tenderly on the lips, and then pulled herself level with Charlotte's
face. With unprompted and unfeigned tears coursing down her cheeks she
nuzzled her face against Charlotte's and kissed her beautiful lips, eyes
and cheeks again and again and again.

Life at the flat had certainly changed since the early days when
Charlotte had shared the flat with only Emma and Harriet. Almost as soon
as Harriett returned back from her extended tour filming Sex Abroad she
made preparations to move into Isabel's flat and out of the flat for which
she'd be paying the rent in absentia for so long: a rent the amount of
which varied quite astonishingly as bewilderingly different numbers of
women took residence there. She came back one evening to see how things
were, and was a little astonished to find Charlotte and Josephine together
making love in the living room, while in Emma's old room she found Susan
and Fatima engaged in post-coital caresses with dribbles of viscous liquid
still lubricating the dildo strapped semi-permanently around Susan's waist.
Susan leaped up and kissed Harriett passionately on the mouth.

"I thought you were never coming back!" she exclaimed, admiring
Harriett's trim body so brown after exposure to the tropical sun but as
always restrained in a pair of shorts and a singlet. "And this must be
Isabel, who you've told us so much about in your letters!"

She gestured towards Isabel, who was standing, topless as always in a
sun hat and a long floral skirt down to her sandalled ankles, and tanned a
golden brown herself. Her large firm breasts stood out in their full
magnificence and even Fatima, so accustomed to Amna's own surgically
enhanced breasts, found them rather a revelation. Isabel smiled at the
slim oriental girl with the outsize dildo standing out incongruously from
her middle. "Pleased to meet you," she said. "You must be Emma."

"No, Emma doesn't live here any more," Harriett remarked. "This is
Susan. And I don't know who her friend is?"

"Fatima!" announced the other woman standing up with skin browner than
Harriett's but not from any exposure to the sun. In fact she had never
exposed any of her flesh to the sun, reserving her nudity for indoor sport.
Even then she was rarely wholly naked, for she would wear, as she was
wearing now, black stockings and rarely kicked off her stilettos. She
stood up, extending a hand to Harriett. "I'm delighted to meet you!"

She kissed Harriett tenderly on the lips, and then turned around to face
Isabel. "And you must be Harriett's director?"

"I would hope that's not all I am!" Isabel announced, examining Fatima's
slim stockinged figure and the dribble of orgasmic juice that was so
visibly staining the seams of the stockings.

"I've looked forward to meeting you for so long!" Fatima continued,
approaching Isabel and kissing her on the lips just as she'd just kissed
Harriett. "And not merely because I've heard about you from Susan. I've
long been an admirer of your work."

"You have?" asked Isabel, at once both flattered and wary.

Harriett addressed Susan. "How is the happy mother to be? How does
Charlotte feel about being pregnant?"

"Why not let's ask her?" She announced, bouncing to her feet and pulling
a short tee-shirt over her head. Harriett followed Susan as she wandered
into the adjoining room. "I would say that she seems more delighted than
I'd ever believed possible. You wouldn't believe how many people have
participated in her endeavours to get pregnant!"

Harriett fancied that she could detect a trace of bitter jealousy in
Susan's voice, but she dismissed it from her mind as she joined Susan with
Charlotte and Josephine who were engaged in mutual oral sex. Charlotte's
face was buried in Josephine's cunt, while Harriett could see Josephine's
eyes above her tongue which was rubbing itself raw on her lover's pudenda.
Josephine glanced up as Harriett and Susan entered, and saw them.

"Oh! Look! Charlotte! Look who it is!" exclaimed Josephine.

Charlotte, with all too apparent reluctance, removed her face from
Josephine's cunt and looked over her buttocks to see who it might be.
Seeing Harriett, she gasped in apparent delight, and the couple disengaged
themselves from each other and stood naked in front of their flatmate,
sweat sliding down their chests and onto their thighs. Charlotte pulled
Harriett to her breast, hugged her tightly and showered her face with
kisses. "I'm pregnant!" She announced. "I'm going to have a baby! And
Josephine's the father!"

"Josephine?" Wondered Harriett in genuine disbelief, looking at the
supposed father's crotch to assess by what means she'd attained this
apparent status.

Josephine smiled indulgently. "Not the father in the biological sense!"
She explained. "Someone else (and we've no idea who!) has that particular
distinction. But Charlotte says that as I participated in the conception
then I have as much right to be considered the father as anyone else."

Harriett was genuinely puzzled by these assertions of paternity, but she
dismissed them in her mind as being merely symptomatic of Charlotte's
curiously obsessive personality. However, she was genuinely pleased that
Charlotte had found a woman so willingly indulgent to her whims, and that
the couple were so very much in love.

"Have you brought Isabel?" Asked Josephine. "We were so happy for you
when you said in your letters that you and she had declared your love for
each other. Had you been lovers a long time before?"

Harriett nodded. "Yes," she admitted. "For a long time, we denied our
feelings. I'd never really thought I could ever be truly satisfied by a
woman and Isabel had always believed that her sexual feelings for women
were reserved for the camera. But then we realised that we were really and
truly in love. It's been like a revelation for me. I never believed I
could ever really love someone as much as I love Isabel, even though she's
nearly ten years older than me!"

"Can we meet the lucky lady?" Asked Charlotte. "She is here, isn't
she?"

Harriett nodded, and escorted the three flatmates to the other bedroom
where she discovered her chatting amiably with Fatima, and felt that horrid
pang of jealousy that she'd always believed was alien to her and had become
so much more frequent recently. Whenever she'd watched Isabel making love
with other people, especially when not on the film set, she always found
herself asking herself how genuine her passion was and whether it matched
that which she expressed towards herself. She would look at disgust at the
dribbles of semen down Isabel's legs or on her breasts after she'd made
love to one of her all too many male admirers. She even began to
acknowledge that the sex that she performed so frequently for professional
reasons might perhaps be compromising her love for Isabel, however much she
told herself that it was not the same kind of passion at all.

"So, if I introduce you to Amna, you will at least consider her," Fatima
was saying to Isabel. "I assure you it won't be wasted time. She's
performed in quite a few films now. Paki Fuckers. Oriental Bust Out.
Asian Deep Cunt. And it's not just her breasts that are enhanced. Her
lips are nice and full. Her buttocks are really voluptuous and bouncy.
And she's keeping herself truly trim."

"I promise you I will," smiled Isabel. "But what I said is still true.
As a policy I prefer not to deal with agents. I prefer to make my own
decisions." She looked up at Harriett and the other girls. "Well, you
never told me that so many people in this flat were performers in the sex
industry. Not only yourself, Susan, Emma and Josephine, as you told me
about, but Fatima here's an agent! I almost feel like I've not left the
film set at all!" She wandered over to Harriett and pressing her enormous breasts against her chest, she leaned over as far as she could to kiss her
on the mouth. "Don't look so sad, dearest!" She remarked, clearly
detecting Harriett's discomfort. "Introduce me to your friends. Which
one's Charlotte: the bearer of such good news!"

XXXIV



Salim wasn't at all sure she liked all the changes that her lover had
dictated on her niece. First, the breasts, now so unnaturally firm and
hard; resisting all attempts of gravity to lower their profile. Then the
lips now in such a firm unchanging pout which made her seem as if she was
constantly ready for sex, but also somehow moody and sullen when she wasn't
smiling, which was really most of the time. Next were the hips and upper
thighs which, together with Amna's newly trimmed waist, gave her a much
more pronounced figure, so different from the slightly pudgy girl she'd
originally fallen in love with. Now Fatima had dictated that Amna should
remove all trace of pubic and anal hair (quite a feat in itself) achieved
with waxing and depilatory cream. As Salim's tongue roved over the smooth
flatness of her niece's vulva, she found it hard to reconcile it with the
lush growth of dark hair that once flourished there. She found it
difficult to believe that this was the same vulva, the long hairy strands
of which used to entangle in between her teeth.

Fatima preferred this appearance. It matched her own pubic smoothness,
which Fatima also found somewhat new and disturbing. Why shed such a
natural and really rather friendly and reassuring growth? She especially
didn't like the sexual exercises which she insisted the young girl needed
to further her career. Wasn't her own lovemaking with Amna sufficient?
And even that, Fatima did so much more roughly with the tools she had at
her disposal. Was it necessary for Fatima to pretend to be a man:
thrusting a dildo deeper inside Amna than all but the most well endowed man ever could. Fatima herself was not at all enthusiastic about using such
aids, and had time and time again reproved Fatima when she surreptitiously
tried to include them in their own sex life. Salim could live without
them. Why couldn't Fatima?

Salim was even less pleased the first time Fatima invited a man to her
house to practice practical sex with her niece. Did it have to be brought
so vulgarly to her attention? She felt restricted in her own home, forced
to preserve her modesty under a scarf and a flowing ankle-length dress:
only her hands and some of her face at all visible. men were not welcome
company as far as Salim was concerned. The silk underwear remained hidden out of sight, even though Amna remained naked in her newly constructed
body; so accustomed now to her habitual nudity that she almost had to be
reminded to put clothes on when she ventured out of the house. It was true
that Amna felt less comfortable in clothes than before. The new contours
of her body were not designed to be hidden. Jeans squeezed uncomfortably
tight over her broader hips and tee shirts pushed upwards by the steady
pressure of her breasts.

Salim was more disturbed to see Fatima, the woman she loved to
distraction, making no attempt to present an appearance of even secular
modesty in front of Robert. She wore nothing but her most lacy and slight
underwear, and of course the black silk stockings and stilettos she so
rarely removed. Salim blushed as the details of her nipple appeared so
obviously in the outline of the brassiere and was aware that had Fatima not
shaved her pubic region so smoothly it would almost all have been revealed
on the fringes of her red laced panties. However, Fatima not only insisted
on dressing so immodestly, but also that Salim should hide her natural
modesty to the extent of watching her niece and this man fucking together
on Amna's bed; the detritus of teen magazines, videos and compact discs
cleared unceremoniously out of the way.

Somehow, watching Amna's cunt being penetrated so close and so
physically was even less pleasant than watching it on video, as Salim had
had to do rather more often than she could care to remember. Fatima
occasionally gave advice to Robert and Amna as to what they should do and
how to do it, keeping her mind on the photogenic aspects of the physical
act, ensuring that the thrusting penis and recipient cunt were on display
at all times. Amna's large breasts swung up and down, back and forth with
the stiff unrippling rhythm that the silicone dictated. Finally, after how
long Salim didn't care to say and after the penis had thrust its way deep
inside Amna's anus as well, Robert pulled out his erect and throbbing penis
and with the assistance of Amna's tongue released spurt after spurt of
semen onto Amna's face and chest. A long trail of viscous liquid dribbled
down the side of Amna's nose, lightly luminescent against the darkness of
her skin, and trailed several centimetres down below her chin. On Fatima's
urgent prompting she pretended to enjoy it, smiling in apparent ecstasy and
moaning in a way that sounded so utterly false to Salim's ears. Surely,
the fact that Amna did this sort of thing on celluloid and acetate was
enough.

But clearly not, as far as Fatima was concerned, who persuaded Salim to
join her in applauding the success of Amna's lovemaking. "Bravo!"
Exclaimed Fatima clapping her hands. "Much better! One day you may even
start enjoying it!"

Amna smiled foolishly as she wiped off the semen that wasn't already
beyond recall from her face and chest, and crawled over the bed towards
Fatima in the obvious hope that Fatima would complement the lovemaking with
her own affection. To Salim's horror, it seemed that Fatima would at
first, and in the presence of this strange man, as she removed her knickers
and allowed them to drop to her feet. Salim's horror deepened, however, as
it became obvious that the object of her sexual advances was not to be
Amna, who appeared relatively nonchalant at the fact, but Robert.

Fatima crawled onto the bed, past Amna, and over to Robert's now limp
penis which she nevertheless began coaxing into a new life with her lips
and tongue. Salim covered her face with shame, but watched nonetheless, as
Fatima took the growing penis into her mouth, while running her fingers up
and down its length, pumping it into renewed life with each rhythmic
caress, and its purple glans swelled to very much the size of Fatima's open
mouth. Fatima smiled lasciviously at Salim while exercising Robert's
member.

It was not at all long until that long penis was once again ensconced
inside a cunt, but this time Fatima's, with Amna participating on Fatima's
prompting by licking Fatima's clitoris or nipples. Although Salim rarely
if ever saw things from a male perspective, she could see that Robert was
in a very fortunate position in having two beautiful female bodies, the
only ones that Salim had ever loved and who she would always love to
distraction, wrapped around him and ensuring that his penis would not
easily remain limp for very long. It particularly disturbed her that
Fatima showed rather more true and honest pleasure in the lovemaking than
Amna ever had. Her cries of passion were unfeigned, guttural and frequent.

Salim could only take so much of this. Despite her normal desire to
please Fatima's every whim, she raised herself to her feet and was about to
stride out of the bedroom to where she could more easily forget all that
was going on under her roof. However, this immediately prompted Fatima,
now wearing only her black stockings, her slim breasts hardly moving at all
despite the rapid bobbing up and down of her body, to break loose of the
lovemaking and run over to Salim and grasp her by the hand. Salim's face
was flushed and there was a slight urgency in her expression.

"Don't leave, Sally! Stay. It's your turn next!"

"My turn!" Gasped Salim in sheer terror. "No. I don't know what you
mean!"

Fatima pulled up Salim's dress with a sudden abrupt gesture to reveal
her own knickers and stockings. "Don't be so hasty! You can enjoy Robert
as well!" A hand ran up the top of Salim's thigh and caressed her groin
around the knickers.

Salim hesitated. Fatima had after all enjoyed making love to him. And
she had felt rather left out of the proceedings. Perhaps in the company of
the two women she loved, the only two lovers she had ever had, she could
lose her virginity with regards to heterosexual love. It was, after all, a
critical part of her that even into her thirties she had not yet expressed.
She looked at Robert who was spread naked across the bed, his erect penis
grasped by Amna's dark hand. She thought back to the only part of him that
had at all interested her in the lovemaking, and that only because of where
it was penetrated. She mused on the length of engorged flesh, with its
purple end and its hairy base. She could never have that enter inside her!

Salim shook her head shyly, kissed Fatima tenderly on the lips and
continued on her way to the living room to read a book or watch television.
There were some experiences in life, she decided, which were really not
worth experiencing. Ever.

Fatima's efforts in promoting Amna's career pursued every possible
avenue. She agreed to meet Isabel, who, on the appointed day, was sat in
her office in the television station's main building. She was skimming
through the pages of the professional sex media magazine she received free
each week, contemplating the advertisements from the countless agencies who
offered their sex starlets for the services of film, video, television or
interactive software. Some of the advertisements were particularly lurid,
but she had learnt to mistrust these when she was recruiting. The sexual
adventurousness of the starlets was not really an indication of the quality
of their performance, except in particular fringe aspects of the industry.
She always professed a professional and competent approach to recruitment.
She eased her large breasts down as she raised her wrist to glance at her
watch. She was expecting to see Fatima and her candidate, Amna, in a few
moments for an audition for a television series that Isabel was producing
concerning asian sexual practices. It was tentatively called Brown Cunts
and Slit Eyes, but was likely to be modified to just Brown Cunts and Slits
in deference to the all too vocal sensitivity of the asian minority.

Fatima and Amna were dressed quite appropriately for their rôles when
they arrived. Fatima wore a green business suit with a very short skirt
that very nearly revealed the suspenders of her black silk stockings. Amna
was totally naked except for a pair of stilettos on which she tottered in
obvious unease and a heavy pasting of make-up. Isabel sat back in her
chair and nodded approvingly as Amna twirled round on her heels revealing
all she had to offer.

The breasts were good, Isabel decided. There were never too many girls in the industry willing to enhance their appearance for the tit market. A
good pair of breasts were always a good sales point, as she had found out
herself in her days as a sex actress, and did wonders for a girl's career.
True, Amna hadn't committed herself to the same extent as Isabel had when
she'd surrendered herself to scalpel and silicone, but she really had no
need to, seeing as her native assets as an asian were relatively
distinctive in themselves. Her lips were good as well. They made her look
perpetually sexy, if a bit sullen. But then sullenness always attracted
that proportion of the target audience who didn't like the idea of the
girls enjoying their lovemaking too much.

"The buttocks and thighs have been enhanced too!" Remarked Fatima with
pride, patting Amna on the bottom. "And she takes frequent exercise to
keep her waist trim!"

"What about the crotch?" Wondered Isabel. "Is she normally so
hairless?"

"Not at all. Without depilatory creams and daily attention, she'd be so
hairy you wouldn't believe! Amna's naturally hirsute to a prejudicial
degree."

"Is that so? Some of the audience like that."

"I've done my research, Isabel sweetest," said Fatima daring a little
more familiarity than she might normally do with a potential customer.
"Hairiness is a turn off for the younger end of the market. Most
successful teen stars keep their crotch at worst trim and spare."

Isabel nodded. That was certainly true. A lot of the potential target
preferred the illusion that the girls were several years younger than they
actually were, even when they were pretty young to start off with.

"Well, she's certainly good to look at," Isabel announced. "But what's
she like when it comes to action?"

"Have you watched the videos I sent you?"

"The videos? Well, I had a brief look. I wasn't too sure, to be
honest. She's not a natural, is she? It doesn't come from the heart. Or
do you think otherwise?"

A flash of concern passed over Fatima's face, as if the issue which most
worried her had been raised. She smiled broadly, however. "Amna's a young girl. She's growing in confidence and ability all the time. She has
plenty of expert tuition from myself and true professionals. She's able to
convince even the most sceptical that she's having a good time when ..."

"You don't mind, - do you? - if I put your claim to the test.
Appearance is very important. I'd say it was the most important feature of
a good sex actress. But she has to perform as well. I've persuaded one of
my male sex actors to give her a trial. Is it alright if I ask him in?"

Fatima had expected this. Much of her work and preparation over the
last few weeks had been for this very moment. She knew that once a sex
actress is accepted then the odd, or even frequent, lapse in performance is
tolerated if her charisma as a star or a looker compensated for it. She
had spent a lot of time persuading Amna to relax and to overcompensate for
her genuine lack of interest in heterosexual love. Fatima nodded. "I'm
sure Amna's up to the task!" She announced, squeezing her shoulder with a
comforting hand.

Isabel nodded. "I'm sure she is." She picked up her phone and spoke to
her secretary: "Ask Boris to come in."

Boris was a tall, quite athletic man whose long hair was tied into a
ponytail and had several tattoos on his arms and torso. He pushed a
confident hand through his hair, letting his earrings dangle in the slight
breeze caused by this action. On Isabel's nodding, he removed his clothes
to reveal a limp penis and a trim figure.

Isabel leaned forward over her desks, her hands cupped underneath the
overhang of her enormous breasts. "Amna. If you could please join Boris
on the couch over there in the corner and we'll assess your performance.
Don't be too worried. I don't expect you to be at your best during an
interview: I know only too well the effect nerves can have. Just go ahead
and enjoy yourself."

Fatima knew that passion and love were what Amna associated with making
love to a man. To a certain extent it was almost better for her to view
the exercise of fucking as a job rather than a pleasure. She watched with
pride as Amna went through the motions that she had painstakingly practised
for so many weeks. First the fellatio and hand work: building up a firm
and stiff foundation for later intercourse. She watched with relief as
Boris's penis gradually swelled to its full nine or ten inches in length.
It was soon full, firm and ready for action. Amna expectantly looked up to
Fatima for advice at that point, and Fatima scratched her ear absently as
they'd prearranged as a signal to say that she'd judged Boris to be
prepared to penetrate.

It was at that stage that Amna positioned herself on top of Boris, his
face behind her, allowing herself to be fucked again and again while facing
Isabel and putting on the various repertoire of expressions that she and
Fatima had practised for so long. Isabel was not so easily deceived. She
had worked too many years in the industry for that: both as an actress and
as a director. Now, as a producer, she could see that most, if not all, of
Amna's apparent sexual satisfaction was feigned. There was really no flush
of pleasure on the girl's face and the only sweat generated was from
exertion rather than ecstasy. But Isabel also knew that what mattered was
not how the physical act felt to the actress but how it was viewed through
the eyes of a television viewer who only saw those edited highlights that
were deemed good enough for the screen.

Boris appeared to be taken in by Amna's performance, producing as much,
if not more, seminal fluid as he normally did on the screen, which Amna
allowed to spread over her trim waist and into her mouth. Isabel nodded
her head as Amna wiped away the traces of sperm from around her mouth and
nose.

"Well, Fatima, I think your little friend can consider herself
employed," she announced with a broad grin, picking up a pen and the
contract she'd had pre-printed in anticipation of the success of the
audition.

XXXV



"I just love cocks too much!" Fluff explained to Amna with a broad grin.
"I'm just cock-mad. I love them when they thrust into me, I don't care
which hole. I love the feel of them on the corners of my lips. I love the
piss and semen they produce. There's just nothing I don't love about
cocks."

Amna was sure that that was true, as she lay back on Fluff's bed,
looking around on the wall at the huge blown-up photographs of all the
erect penises, many of them thrusting inside mouths and cunts. She had
never seen such a display before. Fluff worked for the television station
where Amna was now working for, and her job was as a fluffer, an occupation
she cherished so much that she'd even allowed herself to be named after it.
She was the one who ensured that the men would always be able to achieve
full erection, and got even the tiredest penis to ejaculate over Amna in
the final crucial shots that usually determined the success of a session.
She had taken a shine to Amna, and soon established that she enjoyed making
love with women like herself as much as, if not more than, she enjoyed it
with her male co-stars.

Fluff hadn't bothered herself too much with the filmed performances of
the station, though she was always prepared to assist whenever her services
might be required, or when it was necessary to make up numbers. Amna
envied Fluff's skill and enthusiasm at lovemaking, whereas she was happiest
when the whole business was over and she could make her way home. Fluff
was only a couple of years older than her, which made her one of the few
girls she worked with who she could feel really comfortable talking to
about the things which really interested her. The music she listened to
was much more to Amna's taste than anything her aunt or her agent listened
to. And she seemed to understand Amna's attitude towards sex than many
girls who were much less keen on it than Fluff herself.

Fluff's enthusiasm for penises extended beyond her job, and the
selection of magnificent specimens photographed about her room. She
enjoyed sex with men well beyond the call of duty, boasting that it was a
bad day if she'd only had one cock inside her all day. Her enthusiasm
extended to having a tattoo emblazoned across her face although it severely
restricted the range of rôles she could ever take if she were ever to be
serious about an acting career. It featured the pink, red and purple glory
of an erect penis stretching from the corner of her jaw, where the
testicles swelled about her neck, across her nose and cheeks on one side to
climax in pinkish yellow globules of come about her eye and onto her
forehead. Nobody could be sure what Fluff's slim face was really like
(though her nose was quite thin and short and her eyes sparkled
grey-green), because nobody could look at her face without focusing on this
tattooed penis. This wasn't the only tattoo on her body, though it was
clearly the most prominent. There was an erect penis tattooed on each of
her shoulders around her inoculation scars, and a floral cunt tattooed on
her thigh. Her hair was shaved off totally, from her head as well as her
cunt, but she enjoyed her appearance and most particularly the reaction it
provoked.

"Blokes just get a hard on looking at me!" Fluff said with a grin.
"When I see their cock bulging in their trousers, about to cream the inside
of their underpants, I just say to them: How about it! My cunt's yours.
You wanna fuck me, you're welcome!" She spread her legs so that Amna could
appreciate the slightly reddened exterior of her cunt. "How about you,
Amna? You wanna fuck?"

Both Amna and she were naked. In fact this was a prerequisite for
coming into Fluff's flat. "You're not getting past the fucking threshold,
with these on!" She announced, when Amna arrived, lifting up her tee-shirt
to uncover the base of her enormous breasts. "I don't want anyone in my
fucking flat wearing any clothes. You just take your fucking things off
now, or you can just fuck off."

Amna always felt more comfortable naked anyway, so it wasn't long till
her clothes were discarded and her nipples felt comfortable, free of the
pressure of the cloth restraining them. Fluff's body was much slimmer than
Amna's. Her wrists and arms were slender, and her legs though full at the
thighs, were generally slim and tapering. Her breasts were not large, but
Amna suspected, from their shape and the firmness to the touch of her
fingers and the lick of her tongue, that like her own they had been
artificially enhanced.

It hadn't been too many minutes after Fluff had brought Amna into her
bedroom that the two of them were engaged in serious sexual exploration,
but Amna wondered what her friend meant by asking her to fuck her. Fluff
noticed her quizzical expression.

"Don't get me wrong, sweetheart. I love women. I could have sex with
women forever. But what they've not got, and what men do have, is a cock.
I just don't feel like I've even been touched unless I've been properly
fucked. Don't you ever feel like that?"

To be honest, Amna never did. Penises didn't really interest her. What
they did between her legs was always somewhat distant from what she
considered as satisfactory lovemaking. She knew she was supposed to enjoy
it, and occasionally it troubled her that it didn't really, but she
understood, not least from Fatima's enthusiasm and the films she'd seen
with Susan that fucking with a penis was what most women actually
preferred. "Have you got a dildo I can use?" She asked Fluff politely.

"Have I got a fucking dildo?" Snorted Fluff. "What do you fucking think
I am?" She clambered over the sheets of the bed in which the two girls had
been lying, her taut slim buttocks behind her, and pulled open the door of
the bedside cabinet. "Just have a fucking look at these fuckers!"

Amna bent over and admired an array of dildos, of all sizes, dimensions
and colours. Fluff bent over and picked one out which was particularly
realistic, with a half-pair of testicles affixed to their base. It was
more than fourteen inches long with very realistic veins fashioned on the
outside.

"You strap the fucker on, and then just fuck me. Back and front, I
don't fucking care!"

Amna examined it cautiously. It was larger than any that Fatima had
ever used on her and substantially larger than any real penis that had ever
been inside her. "I don't know. I've never used one before."

"Never fucking used one!" Exclaimed Fluff, with genuine surprise.
"Haven't you ever been fucked by one?"

"Well, yes! I've had it done to me, but I've never done it myself.
Fatima uses one in her training, but Aunt Salim doesn't like them very
much. I'm just not sure what to do."

"Would you prefer if I fucked you with it?" Asked Fluff tenderly.

Amna eyed it with some concern, and then glanced down at her shaven
cunt. She wasn't at all sure she'd even be able to get it inside her. And
wouldn't it hurt? "No. I think I'd rather..."

Fluff smiled. "I'll fasten it to you. You just get on top of me, and
pretend to be a man. Well, not a real man. Not with fucking tits like
yours. Just push your bum back and forth, like you do when you're on top
in a fuck session, and I'll help get you going with my fingers. It'll be
fun. You see!"

It surprised Amna just how much fun it actually turned out to be. She
plunged the enormous phallus deeper and deeper into Fluff's cunt, which had
a capacity way beyond her own, and followed Fluff's directions, as her
lover put her fingers to Amna's cunt and anus, massaging and arousing her
clitoris and anus, on occasion getting almost her whole hand inside Amna's
cunt, and lifting her arse above her legs. A strange wave of pleasure
communicated through her body. She was actually enjoying it! Fluff, too,
seemed to enjoy it: gasping and groaning with the deep thrusts, a wild
gleam in her eyes, her tongue drooping maniacally from her mouth.

"Oh! Oh!" Cried Amna in ecstasy, forgetting herself. She threw herself
down onto Fluff's bare breasts, the dildo still half inside her and three
of Fluff's fingers deep inside her anus. "Oh, Fluff! Is this what it's
always like for you!" She cried as she buried her face on her lover's
penis-emblazoned face, dribble from her mouth intermixing with Fluff's
saliva on the sharply defined contours of Fluff's tattooed semen spurt.
"Oh! If only it was like this at work! If only it were always like this!"

Not everyone shared Amna's passion for Fluff. Salim knew she wouldn't
like her even before they met. Amna's enthusiastic descriptions of her
best girlfriend filled her only with disgust. Even Fluff's job assisting
male sex stars achieve erections and to ejaculate disgusted her enough.
The fact that she sometimes worked as a body double to participate in
sexual activities the starring actresses either didn't relish or couldn't
stomach didn't endear her any more. Why did Amna's friend have to be so
vulgar? She didn't like the fact that there was now yet another rival to
her niece's affections along with Fatima, Susan and, of course, the
countless men and women who had sex with her on set (but somehow seemed
much less of a threat).

Fluff's influence on Amna was immediately apparent when she insisted on
wearing a series of grotesque penis-like dildos all the time, whether she
was clothed or unclothed. She was just like one of those dildo dykes Salim
saw in town, and of course a little like she knew Susan was these days.
Some of these dildos were absolutely monstrous. Salim was not particularly
knowledgeable on this issue, but she was sure that very few men had penises
nearly as long as some of the longer of Amna's dildos. One or two were
more than a foot long! They were not always the same colour as Amna's very
dark skin, which looked even odder in contrast. When Amna dressed in her
brief tee-shirts or singlets, the dildo protruded incongruously through the
flies at the front of her jeans or shorts. It was a gross encumbrance
which she took with her always as she walked around the streets, going to
work or travelling by train. Salim was appalled by it, but Amna stubbornly
refused to ever take it off. She was proud of the obscenity of it. What
must people think!

When they made love together or shared the same bed, which they still
did most nights, even when Fatima was also staying and shared the bed with
them, Salim would insist that Amna remove the horrible thing, and discard
it from sight. No! she wasn't interested in having that monstrosity
pushed inside her vagina, however moist and welcoming it might be. The
very thought made her feel quite nauseous, and the fact that it
superficially resembled a real penis didn't attract her in the slightest.
Men had never attracted her, and their penises attracted her least of all.
Besides, she wanted to retain as much as she could of her virginity.
However much Amna, and particularly Fatima, tried persuading her, it was
better by far to keep these things as far from her inner thighs as
possible. She felt especially disgusted when Fatima and Amna played with
them, strapping them to their buttocks and thrusting them deep inside each
other. This was one game she had no intention of ever playing!

When Fluff arrived to visit Amna, announcing almost immediately on
arrival that she couldn't stay long because she had made an appointment to
visit a boyfriend afterwards, Salim's dislike of the girl was immediate and
intense. It certainly didn't help when Fluff elaborated that the
'boyfriend' in question was someone she'd only met for a few minutes
earlier that day. What Salim most disliked about her was, of course, her
appearance. Although Amna had told her a little about Fluff's tattoos and
habits, it somehow hadn't prepared her at all for the sight of her, naked
within seconds of closing the front door to the flat behind her. Her face
was totally obscured by the most ghastly tattoo. It was the full-size
image of an ejaculating penis, totally disguising her features which may
have otherwise been ugly or pretty, but were now undeniably gross.
Otherwise she was a skinny girl with very pale skin. Her habitual nudity
quite clearly did not extend to sunbathing. A patch of light brown
freckles covered her chest, and her short pubic hair was unkempt and
slightly worn, particularly around the mouth of her vagina.

Fluff was immediately too forward, kissing Salim full on the mouth. She
regretted that she was wearing only her lingerie. She should have kept on
her scarf and gown: clearly she was giving the wrong signals to the slut.
She pushed Fluff off her, and coldly and politely greeted her. Amna, who
appeared behind her, naked and with her favourite black fourteen-inch dildo
strapped to her waist was much less reserved. Salim recognised Amna's
affection and delight with not a little regret. What could it be about
this repulsive whore that Amna preferred over her own beauty? She stood
aside as the two of them embraced and almost immediately, Fluff's tongue
protruded from the tattoo on her face, just below the shaft of the penis
that stretched over her nose and upper lip, and plunged deeply into Amna's
mouth. Salim sighed as she watched Amna's buttocks shiver with pleasure
and her own tongue reciprocate Fluff's avidity, her gross dildo pressed
against Fluff's slim waist.

Amna disengaged herself from Fluff and Salim examined her face with
selfish alarm. She grinned broadly and her eyes emanated an unmistakeable
passion and joy Salim had so rarely observed in her niece even in the most
passionate of their lovemaking. Amna escorted her lover, with a hand
around the tiny buttocks, towards her bedroom. With guilty curiosity,
Salim followed the pair as they entered the room.

"You've got an awful lot of posters of the same girl!" Exclaimed Fluff,
regarding all the posters of Susan on the wall. "She's not one of your
girlfriends, is she?"

Amna looked at Fluff a little sadly. She shook her head. "I just like
her films. You must have seen them."

"I don't watch fuck films if I can help it. It's not like the real
thing, is it?" Fluff walked towards a poster of Susan being fucked up the
anus while she grasped the penis of a large black man. "I don't know what
you mean by not liking cock, though. There's enough fucking cocks here!
Not as much as on my wall, but enough of the fuckers!"

Salim hesitated in the hallway. She knew she wouldn't be welcome
company, but she felt some reluctance in leaving her niece in the clutches
of this vulgar little slut. Her language! However, Salim could see that
her presence was definitely not wanted when Amna dragged Fluff away from
the poster and onto the bed beside her: and, if by chance it might be, she
really didn't want to know. She discreetly closed Amna's bedroom door and
retreated to the living room.

She sat down on the sofa, turned on the television and was unable to
concentrate as she scanned through the countless television channels with
the aid of her remote. All she could think of was Fluff and Amna together,
enjoying each other's body, while she was excluded. The image of that
repulsive tattoo on Fluff's face recurred in her mind. Didn't Amna find it
as obscene as she did? Clearly not, she reflected, as all too soon she
heard the distinct sound of Amna's voice screeching out over the noise of
the television talk show she had tuned in. It sounded like pain but was
almost certainly the sound of ecstasy.

Then she heard Fluff's own voice, slightly high-pitched and much more
shrill, gasping out in pants of pleasure, accompanied by a steady rhythmic
thump of the bed frame against the wall. There was also the distinct noise
of one of Amna's more cacophonous and unpleasant records played at a rather
louder volume than her niece usually inflicted on her aunt. The sounds
went on and on, making it very difficult for Salim to concentrate on the
talk show conversation. Reluctantly she raised the volume of the
television to disguise the sounds coming from the bedroom, hooking her bare
legs onto the sofa and stroking her long hair in distraction.

Eventually, and not too soon as far as Salim was concerned, the two
girls' lovemaking came to an end, and some fifteen minutes later she heard
them chatting in the hallway. "I'll have to leave now!" She heard Fluff
say. "I'll be late otherwise. I just promised. And besides you know how
much I like cock!"

Salim strained her ears to hear what Amna was saying but really couldn't
distinguish a word. Then she heard Fluff again. "Yes, of course I'll be
back. Yes, I love you. I fucking well do. Don't cry like that, Amna. I
do love you. I don't love many people. And you're definitely my best.
Yes, it's true! Don't fucking doubt me! I don't have to say it, you know.
Yes, I'll definitely spend more time with you next time. All night! Then
we'll fuck like there's no fucking tomorrow!"

Then the front door opened, shut and a strange hush descended on the
flat, magnified by the fact that Amna's record had stopped playing. It was
several minutes until Amna entered the living room, naked of course except
for her monstrous dildo, which Fatima noticed with disquiet shone from a
fresh moistness. Amna looked sad and happy at the same time and without a
word rushed up to Salim, throwing her arms around her and nestling her face
on her breasts. Salim gently stroked Amna's long hair with one hand, and
held her around the shoulders with the other.

"I'm in love!" Announced Amna after several minutes, not raising her
face or looking away from the dildo on which her eyes were focused.

"With that slut?" Asked Salim rather too automatically.

Amna started, and glared at her aunt. "Don't call her that! She's
beautiful! You don't know her!"

Salim sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. But are you sure?"

"I think so. I've never been in love before. But I am now." She
embraced Salim passionately. "She says she loves me. She says she's going
to have a new tattoo with my name on it. She's wonderful. I love her.
Oh! Auntie. Is love always like this? Is it always so painful?"

Salim gazed at her niece, whose own gaze was fixed vacantly ahead of
her. "Yes, Amna. Yes. It is always painful," she sighed, knowing that she
spoke more for her own passion for her niece than in answer to the
question. "Love is the most painful thing there is!"

XXXVI



Charlotte knew that she had gained something of a reputation at work: a
reputation not in any way improved by her pursuit of a man to father a
child for Josephine and her from all the men at work who were willing to do
so. Her announcement of her pregnancy and her announcement that Josephine
was the father was one which prompted mixed feelings to her colleagues.
Not all the men (especially those who'd had sex with her) quite saw it the
way she did, and many of the women, especially the older ones, thought her
behaviour at best odd and at worst promiscuous, sluttish and perverse.
However, they expressed sympathy and joy in Charlotte's pregnancy, although
as yet there was very little real evidence of it.

One girl who was rather more sympathetic and enthusiastic than the
others was Enid, a girl in her first job and little older than seventeen.
She had very set views with regards to naturism, which was her reason for
taking a job as a clerical assistant in the office, and also to lesbianism,
regarding herself very much as one, although she admitted to never having
actually had such a relationship. Enid allied herself to Charlotte from
the very day she started. Of all those working in the department she was
the one who had the most obvious similarity in attitude and lifestyle to
that which Enid aspired to.

"Oh! I'm so happy for you!" She exclaimed, holding Charlotte to her,
and kissing her tenderly on the face. "It's just a shame that you had to
have sex with men to have one. Wasn't that so absolutely ghastly. What
did Josephine think?"

"Josephine participated as well. She had as much chance of being the
mother as I. But now she'll be the father. She was there when the baby
was conceived. She worked as hard as I did in making it possible. And
it's only fair that she take some of the credit for it."

Enid picked up the framed photograph of Josephine that was on her desk,
one of the few nude pictures of Charlotte's lover that were not associated
with her theatrical career. She held it in both hands and chuckled as she
examined it. "Josephine's so very pretty. You're so lucky! She's exactly
the kind of lover I'd love to have. Doesn't she have such a darling smile.
And she's a lesbian and naturist as well, isn't she?"

Charlotte smiled, pleased to see someone appreciating her lover so much.
"Well, no. She's not really either. She likes men too, and she still has
a lot to do with them in her job. She's also not really a naturist. She
quite likes wearing clothes. She doesn't take her clothes off except when
she's at home or when she has to as part of her job."

"Oh! That's a shame!" Sighed Enid sincerely. "Still, nobody could be
that perfect, could they?"

"As far as I'm concerned she's perfect as she is!" Said Charlotte
loyally. She took the photograph from Enid's hands and examined it with
pride. She was indeed lucky in having a lover like Josephine. It seemed
to her that their love just grew stronger and stronger.

"Oh, I'd love to experience love like that!" Enid sighed. "My flatmate,
Hyacinth, well ... she's alright ... but she's just a friend. She's not
a lover. It's not the same thing. You're so lucky. Josephine is so
beautiful."

She turned towards Charlotte, a mournful expression on her face. "Why
can't I have a lover like you? Will I always be lonely?"

Charlotte put a reassuring arm around Enid's shoulder and pulled her
head onto her breast. The office was empty. The working day had finished
and the cleaner was busy on another floor of the building. She had stayed
late to finish some paperwork that she had allowed to accumulate and hadn't
expected Enid to stay late too. She suspected that the young girl had
stayed on precisely for the reason of chatting to her, something which
Charlotte actually rather appreciated. She often felt quite an outcast in
the office. Sometimes, she reflected on her own foolishness in expecting
her colleagues to share her attitudes and outlook.

"You're very young. Opportunities will come. You'll see!"

"But how long will I have to wait?"

"I had to wait a long time, too."

"But you've got such a wonderful lover! Why not me? Why can't I have a
girlfriend like Josephine? Someone to love. Someone who loves me. Why
not me?" A small tear trickled from the corner of her eye, down her round
freckled cheek and onto her bare shoulder. Charlotte brushed it out from
her salt cellar and smiled sympathetically. It wasn't so long ago that her
own feelings of frustration resembled those of Enid's. She knew only too
well the pain of unrequited love, and still felt a pang when she reflected
on Emma's preference for the flighty child that dominated her affections.
Although nowadays her rôle was as Emma's confidante as she complained about
her young lover's unfaithfulness, she still had the feeling that Emma would
have been so much happier had she accepted Charlotte's love earlier.
Charlotte sighed.

"Don't cry! You've got a lifetime ahead of you! You'll find someone. I
know you will!" She smiled into Enid's pale blue eyes framed by a small
round face that looked even younger from the severe short hairstyle she
preferred and the smattering of light brown freckles that spread over her
cheek, nose and onto her small perky breasts.

"Oh! Charlotte! Say it won't be too long!" Enid wailed. She pressed
her head hard onto Charlotte's chest, her sharp chin on the ribcage and a
warm dampness trickled between the breasts.

"It won't be! It won't be!" Reassured Charlotte, raising Enid's chin
with her hand and facing her. She kissed her affectionately on the lips
and was rather startled when Enid's hands grasped her by the back of her
neck and thrust her tongue inside her mouth. The salty taste of Enid's
saliva mingled with hers, and despite an initial reserve, a warm sensuous
feeling overcame her and she returned Enid's inexpert kisses with her own
practised ones. Enid gripped Charlotte tighter, her eyes closed, as she
pushed and pushed her mouth into Charlotte's, her tongue exploring deep
inside the internal contours of her mouth.

Charlotte had become too accustomed to lovemaking. It was such an
integral part of her life. Sex with Emma, Susan, Fatima and all the men who she'd invite to her flat. It all merged into one sensual experience of
which her affection mostly concentrated on Josephine. But Enid was such a
nice young girl: pretty and affectionate. So obviously enamoured of her.
She'd often observed the slight choke in Enid's voice when they passed in
the corridor, the way her eyes wandered about, but focused again and again
on her body and the short trimmed hairs of her vagina. Perhaps it was
right to give her the love which she had so readily granted the men in the
office and who had so much loved thrusting deep into her cunt while she
caressed and kissed Josephine ever in attendance and waiting for her turn
at penetrative sex.

And so it was that Charlotte reciprocated to Enid's youthful passion,
stimulating her clitoris with her fingers, stroking and massaging her
vagina, and soon plunging her tongue into its youthful recesses while Enid
exercised her own with a passion and urgency she recognised from her own
earlier lovemaking with Josephine. The two wrestled together over the
nylon carpets of the office, knocking over the recently emptied wastepaper
bin, banging Charlotte's head against the back of a desk, while a leg
frantically pushed at the leg of a chair. Enid's dedication to the
lovemaking charmed Charlotte who watched as she pushed her tongue deep into
her vagina, nibbled at her hardened clitoris and sweated onto her outspread
legs.

As the two of them huddled in postcoital embrace, sweat running down the
nobbled contours of their spines, Charlotte wondered what she had let
herself in for. Was she being unfaithful to Josephine? Was she
complicating her love life with her work in an irreversible way? She
looked at Enid whose eyes focused above her shoulder to the desk. She
followed Enid's gaze to the photograph of Josephine.

"Oh! You and Josephine are so lucky!" Enid sighed.

Charlotte smiled. How could she be unfaithful to Josephine when Enid
was as keen on her continued relationship as she was herself? Comforted by
this thought, she took Enid's face in her hands and plunged her tongue once
more into the welcoming red darkness of her mouth.

Enid's flatmate, Hyacinth, was a black girl who studied at the
neighbouring Art School, where her specialities were life drawing and
sculpting. She was even poorer than Enid, her allowance being very low and
so too her grant. She was about the same age as Enid, but shared very
little of her enthusiasm for naturism or lesbianism. However, the bedsit
was very small and there was only one bed, which they inevitably had to
share. She had thick black wavy hair, and mostly wore cut-off jeans,
trainers and short slips, which revealed all her midriff and only just
about reached to the bottom of her breasts. Sharing the same bed
inevitably meant that she had to sleep with Enid's passionate warm body
wrapped around hers, and this close intimacy naturally led to Enid being
rather more adventurous with her slim naked body than Hyacinth might
normally choose. Although, it wasn't her preference to have a girl stroking and licking her shaven cunt, she found it pleasant enough as long
as Enid understood there was to be no penetration or kissing. Enid
reluctantly accepted these rules, although she so often tried to contravene
them, which Hyacinth found amusing, but not really to be encouraged.

Hyacinth enjoyed all the attention her flatmate paid her. The
breakfasts in bed. Her daily shaving regime, which left her shaven vagina the envy of all her equally shorn fellow students. And the companionship,
which was so painfully sincere it almost hurt. However, Hyacinth had no
real need for Enid's sexual attention. She already had several boyfriends
at the college, mostly black like herself, although she wasn't overly
fastidious with the race of any man she'd choose to fuck with. She did,
however, much prefer black man. Generally, there were possessed of better
and larger penises, although she was aware that her sample of white men was
not extensive enough to be a fair comparison. She much preferred dark
skin, and, anyway, she had much more in common with their cultural
background.

Enid was very accommodating with Hyacinth and her lovers, that was true.
She would share the bed with Hyacinth and her current lover, whose buttocks
pushed up and down as he thrust deep inside her cunt, her legs were tangled
about her lover's shoulders and the bed violently shaking backwards and
forwards. Although, many of her lovers suggested that Enid should join,
Hyacinth's flatmate was adamant that that was the last thing she wanted.
She was happy enough to see that Hyacinth was happy; perhaps getting some
of her reflected joy. Hyacinth was aware that not many girls were as
obliging as Enid, and she had no fears that Enid would attempt to steal her
lovers from her.

Hyacinth was aware that Enid didn't know nearly as many people in the
town as she. She wouldn't, not being a student, living away from home and
working with older people who, despite mostly being naturists, were not
lesbians and not inclined to spend much time with someone so much younger
and so eccentric. There was only one friend Enid had made, an older woman,
Charlotte, who Enid was very enthusiastic about. She was also a lesbian and a naturist, but Hyacinth could see that Enid's affection was
compromised by the presence of Charlotte's lover, Josephine, an actress
currently performing in Country girls are Hard To Love, which was on at the
New Crucible Theatre. She also realised that it was more Josephine than
Charlotte who most attracted Enid's attention, even though she'd never met
her and had only seen the photographs which Charlotte was happy to show her
and even lend her. Josephine was not a naturist and far from being only
lesbian in her tastes. From the photographs, Josephine seemed relatively
demure and modest, even without her clothes, which was a state seen in only
a minority of the photographs.

"We must go and see Country Girls!" Said Enid on more than one occasion.
"I'd just love to see Josephine perform."

"But is the play any good?" Wondered Hyacinth, who wasn't really much of
a theatregoer. Indeed, she'd usually found plays either very confusing or
very boring.

"It must be!" Enid insisted. "Or Josephine wouldn't be in it!"

Hyacinth accepted the twisted logic, but noted that Josephine wasn't
really the leading performer. Her rôle was as a country lady in the early
nineteenth century village where the play was set. She would, of course,
be expected to have sex with one or more of the other actors, and as far as
Hyacinth was concerned this would at least compensate for the boredom she
feared would inflict her between sex scenes.

The New Crucible was a medium-sized theatre with slightly worn seats,
but most of these were filled when the play began. Hyacinth and Enid sat
together near the front in seats that were far more expensive than Hyacinth
would normally have contemplated, but it was Enid's treat (one of so many
her flatmate insisted on lavishing on her!), so Hyacinth couldn't really
grumble. The play was a nineteenth century fuck story about a couple from
the big city who had come to the country seemingly with only the purpose of
fucking as many country ladies as they could. One of these was Josephine
who in the first of the three acts managed to keep all her clothes on.
These suited Josephine quite well, Hyacinth noted. The long dress, the
high laced collar, the ringed hair and the tight bodice were well suited to
Josephine's general demeanour and appearance. She played very well the
rôle of someone genuinely shocked by the city dwellers predatory sexual
habits, blushing convincingly as she watched the two visitors fuck her maid
who kept on her cotton stockings and her dress while being fucked from
behind while the woman kissed her.

It was in the second act that the character played by Josephine was
seduced and had sex with the man. This began with a sequence of fellatio,
where she took the whole of his penis into her mouth, and engineered it
into a very creditable erection. As large a one as any of Hyacinth's black
lovers, but then actors were often selected for this very attribute.
Josephine showed her skills as an actress in remembering her lines between
times of having the penis in her mouth, and taking off her clothes with a
shyness which belied the fact that this was something she was fairly used
to doing in front of an audience, and had of course done many times before
in the run of the production. It was then that the man, with the
improbable name of Roger Ramrod, pushed his penis hard and twitching firmly
into Josephine's trimmed cunt.

Enid found all this very exciting. Hyacinth glanced down to see that
Enid had removed her knickers, which lay over her buckled shoes, and gently
stroked her cunt with the hand that wasn't gripped tight in Hyacinth's own.
Enid was stroking the perimeter of her vulva, her finger occasionally
dipping inside where Hyacinth could see its moistness. Then, when
Josephine and Roger Ramrod were unexpectedly joined by the maid, who was
this time totally naked except for her stockings and a bow in her hair,
Enid took Hyacinth's black hand firmly to her cunt, and pressed it against
her. She smiled broadly at Hyacinth.

"Oh! Isn't Josephine wonderful!" Whispered Enid. "She's all I imagined
she'd be and more!"

Hyacinth nodded. She didn't really mind Enid pressing her fingers
against her cunt. It did feel very moist and warm. She allowed Enid to
push a couple of fingers deep inside, and tenderly kissed her flatmate on
the cheek, noting with indulgent affection the flush of warm passion that
spread over Enid's face. On stage meanwhile, Josephine and her maid were
locked in deep embrace, while Roger Ramrod fucked both of them in turn. As
Roger came to his climax, brandishing his penis like a weapon over the two
of them, semen visible even from this distance as it spurted out on his two
lovers, Enid had pushed all of Hyacinth's hand inside her, the fingers now
rather sticky and smelly. This wasn't the first time that Enid had done
this, though usually in the privacy of their shared bed, but Hyacinth could
see that the true object of Enid's passion was not herself but Josephine.

In the final interval, Enid tearfully embraced Hyacinth, while the tall
woman next to her glanced at the two of them disdainfully but curiously.

"I don't know if I can take much more of this play!" Joked Hyacinth.
"It's just wearing my fingers out!" In fact, she had found the play rather
shallow on the whole. She'd seen much better acting in the cinema, the
plot was a little dull and it was really only the fucking and Enid's
response to it that encouraged her to stay at all.

In the third act, there was more fucking than in the first two, but
Josephine's rôle, rather like her sexual passion, was mostly spent. Her
only participation was fairly minor, and involved fellating the Right
Reverend Randolph who was meanwhile being buggered simultaneously by the
indefatigable Roger Ramrod. This disappointingly brief appearance didn't
trouble Enid, who again took Hyacinth's hand to her cunt, pumping away at
her moist, hot interior, until, with the Right Reverend over Josephine's
face, Enid also came, panting with passion and ecstasy to the obvious
discomfort of almost everyone around them.

"Oh! Hyacinth!" Gasped Enid, leaning onto her shoulder, tears running
down her freckled cheeks. "Oh! Hyacinth! Now I know what being in love
is like!"

Hyacinth started. This was not a welcome change of events. "Not with
me, I hope!"

"No, silly!" Laughed Enid. "With Josephine! She's so beautiful, so
talented, so wonderful. I love her! I love her so much! Charlotte's so
lucky! Oh! I love Josephine!"

Hyacinth settled down. That wasn't so bad then, although she foresaw
difficulties ahead. After all, weren't Charlotte and Josephine due to get
married soon?

XXXVII



Amna was sitting on the sofa in the living room, when Salim entered
after her long day at work. As always, she was naked apart from the
curiously ornate ebony dildo she had strapped around her waist. It was
Amna's current favourite, and one she hardly ever took off. Salim had
examined it at length and was impressed by the subtle markings which formed
the bodies of women writhing about, their hair and limbs making up the
shape of the massive glans and the heavy round balls. It must have cost
Amna quite a lot. Salim herself dressed as seductively as she could in an
attempt to stimulate her niece's interest in her. She wore a bra which
supported her round apple breasts but didn't hide her nipples, and knickers
which had a very wide slit which slightly opened as she walked to reveal
the short trimmed hair of her vagina. She greeted Amna, who was
distractedly watching a soap opera on the television where the main
character, a young girl was passionately kissing another woman, who was
nearly totally naked. She sat on the sofa next to her niece, put an arm
around her and kissed her on the cheek. Amna turned her head and kissed
her aunt in return on the lips. She then turned her gaze back to the
television where a young man was removing his leather jacket but keeping on
his dark sunglasses.

Salim gently stroked her niece's long hair, and studied her beautiful
naked body. Her breasts had been further enhanced on Fatima's advice, and
her nipples stood up even prouder on the firm mountains of her chest. Her
thighs were slightly fuller, giving her a more Negroid body than anyone
with her genes would ever normally have. The crotch which had once been
such an irrepressible tangle of dark hair was even smoother as the result
of some hormonal treatment that Fatima had organised for her. What had
happened to all that hair? Salim wondered. Distasteful as these
'enhancements' were to Salim, they didn't disturb or upset her as much as
the small tattoo that Amna had done on her shoulder, which portrayed an
erect penis spurting realistic globules of semen and had the ornate letters
Fluff written on them. What had that slut done to her niece? Her parents would be horrified if they knew the depravities her ward had descended to!.
Not only was she a professional sex actress, but her lover was the most
repulsive slut anyone could ever hope to meet. Not that Salim loved her
any the less. She knew that it was as much to do with her jealous passion
as her disapproval of Fluff which made her so unhappy with how things had
changed.

She and Amna still shared the bed together, and still made love. And
Salim still insisted that Amna should never use any of her sexual aids on
her. But she felt that her niece was becoming more distant, as she so
often made her passionate proclamations of love for her sluttish friend.
If only they'd never met! Salim wished. If only their love could return
to where it had been! The only compensation was that now she had Fatima as
a lover too, although she was unhappy to discover that she shared her best
friend not only with her niece (which was bad enough!) but also with Susan
and many of Susan's friends. She agreed though to collaborate with Fatima
in keeping Amna unaware of this relationship, believing as did Fatima, that
Susan was best loved from afar. It still seemed ironic to her that Susan
had slept with both her and Fatty, but not with the one who was arguably
her greatest admirer, even now. Amna's room was still adorned by pictures
of the oriental girl, and there could be few films in which she'd performed
which Amna didn't now possess in her extensive if also obsessive library of
videodiscs.

Salim persuaded Amna to stroke her bared nipples and gasped
appreciatively as her niece's fingers traced their aureate edges, while her
own fingers gently massaged the length of Amna's dildo, enjoying the curves
and contours of the carved naked figures. Perhaps she could bring Amna's
mouth to hers, and feel again the hot moistness of her tongue against her
teeth. Perhaps she could enjoy again Amna's tongue pressing against her
hard erect clitoris. Perhaps Amna could remove her gaze from the
lovemaking on the screen and indulge in more real lovemaking. But as
Salim's mind focused more on her fantasies she heard the front door draw
shut. Who could it be? Her heart jumped. Could it be Fatty back from a
day of promotion and selling? That would be welcome. Or could it be the
only other person besides herself and Amna who had a key to the flat?

It was nothing but disappointment that Salim felt, as she saw the
utterly naked figure of Fluff (She never felt the need to wear a dildo all
the time!) standing by the door with that disgusting tattoo dominating her
face. Amna jumped up off the sofa, at last taking her eyes off the
television, and ran towards her lover. Salim sighed as she saw the extent
of her niece's delight in Fluff's unexpected arrival. "Oh! It's wonderful
to see you! What have you been doing?"

Fluff laughed. "Fucking! What do you think? I've just had two of
them. They had the biggest cocks you've ever seen!" She took the lips of
her cunt in her fingers and pulled them wide open to reveal her cavernous
wellworn interior. "They fucked me so hard! Both of them together! It
was fucking magic! Look! There's still a bit of come. It's real sticky!
Have a taste!"

Salim watched in horror as Amna did precisely that, resting on her
knees, her large buttocks sticking out far behind, her larger breasts as
much in front, her dildo in a position of permanent excitement, and her
tongue licking and loving the taste of semen as it dribbled down Fluff's
slender unenhanced thighs.

"It's still pretty warm!" She exclaimed.

"I came here as fast as I could!" Fluff replied. "I just had to see
you! A perfect fuck is nothing without the one I love!"

"Oh! Fluff! You're so romantic!" swooned Amna, taking the obscene face
into her hands and pressing her lips against the mouth that seemed so
incongruous underneath the long shaft of the tattooed penis.

Salim sat, ignored and hurt, as the two girls caressed and kissed each
other, and then went off together to Amna's bedroom. Within seconds,
Amna's stereo was switched on, and Salim sat alone on the sofa as the
insistent thump of her music intermingled with a slower equally rhythmic
thump on the bed as Amna drove her favourite dildo deep inside her
favourite cunt.

Salim stared into space. She barely noticed the action on the
television as several people indulged in exactly the same activity as her
niece was currently involved in, and her face reddening with humiliation,
frustration and desire. She almost felt like leaping out of her seat, and
kicking that slut out of the door. But she knew in doing so, that her
niece would probably also go. And then there would be no more nights of
pleasure together. Her life would become empty and no longer worth living.
She sat, feeling the tears well up in her eyes and ease themselves out of
the corner and down her cheek.

"Aaahh! Aaahh!" Salim heard from Amna's room. Oh God! They were!
They were! She let loose an unexpected choke of pain and misery, and
buried her tearstrewn face in her hands, small tears falling hot and moist
onto her bare breasts and her mouth feeling as ugly and raw as she
envisaged Fluff's cunt which she could yet again see so vividly in her
mind's eye. Why couldn't it be her that Amna loved so passionately? What
did that slut have to offer that she didn't?

It was then that Salim heard the door close again. Was it Fluff
leaving? Salim wondered with hope. But no the passionate cries continued
as before. It must be Fatty! She raised her head to see Fatima in her
stockings, tight dress and makeup, standing by the door and gazing at Salim
sympathetically.

"I see they're at it again!" She said, nodding towards the source of the
commotion.

Salim gazed at Fatima through the salt in her eyes and nodded silently.

"They're terrors, aren't they?"

Salim nodded again, and then suddenly gave vent to another choked cry
and let herself weep more openly. Fatima regarded her with affection.

"Oh, Sally! You don't like it do you?" Fatima said, running up to her
friend and putting her arms around Salim's shoulders. "You feel jealous,
don't you?"

Salim nodded. "That slut!" She gasped. "Why her? Why not me?"

"Don't think about it, Sally!" Said Fatima, peppering Salim's face with
kisses. "Amna's a young girl. She needs friends her own age. Friends who
know about what she does for a living and totally approve of it. I'm sure
she still loves you."

Salim tried to nod again, but her misery overcame her. She burst into
tears again and buried her face on Fatima's breasts. "Oh! Fatty! I'm so
unhappy. I wish I'd never ..."

Fatima kissed her friend and gradually eased off her clothes. "Don't
regret anything, Sally! Whatever your niece does, you'll always have me.
I'll never stop loving you. Whatever else, You're still my closest and
dearest friend!"



XXXVIII



Susan was enjoying her time off from work: wandering about the shops and
looking for things to buy. She also enjoyed looking at other people,
especially those who were most physically attractive: men or women, it
didn't bother her. She didn't mind the stares that followed her, attracted
by the large dildo protruding through the flies of her culottes, and
perhaps unsure whether or not it was real as there was so little evidence
of her breasts under the baggy white tee-shirt she wore. There were other
women like her wearing such dildos: it had become such a common sight these
days. Almost too common, Susan reflected, but the affectation still had
the potency to shock. One such woman she could see sporting a dildo was
very dark skinned. Susan guessed she was African from the way her arse
stuck out, restrained only by the leather strap tucked in between the slit
of her round buttocks, but which supported a proud twelve inch ebony dildo.
Susan felt aroused by the sight, and paused in her steps to examine the
woman in more detail.

The woman was walking with another girl who Susan recognised as one of
the fluffers she'd often worked with who wore very scanty clothes, nearly
reduced to the dimensions of a bikini, but who attracted rather more
attention than most because of the striking tattoo of an erect penis she
sported over her face, which even detracted attention from her shaved head
and shorn eyebrows. She wondered if she should approach her (Fluff, as she
remembered she was known) as an excuse to get to know her black friend the
better. Her resolve to do so was increased when the girl turned about
slightly to reveal some monstrous breasts which her specially designed slip
only just managed to hold. It was then that she recognised her as Amna,
the asian shop girl she'd introduced to fuck films, who looked somewhat
different from the last time she'd met. What had happened to her breasts?
And her face? Were her lips always so full? And her cheekbones so high?
Had this something to do with the efforts of her agent, Fatima, who visited
rather less frequently these days? Emboldened by her connections and
driven by lust, she ran over to the girls and attracted their attention.

"Amna!" She cried. "I've not seen you for a long time! And with Fluff!
How are you? How's your career progressing?"

Amna looked rather startled, and made only a very garbled incoherent
response. Susan belatedly remembered Amna's strange obsession with her
that Fatima's friend, Salim, had told her about. That was a complication
she didn't really welcome, although she reflected it would be somehow
rather useful to her present aspirations. It was Fluff who answered.

"I've not seen you for a long time either. Not since Oriental Fuckers.
When I had to stand in for you in the shit-eating shot..."

Susan grimaced. She remembered that scene. It was one she'd insisted
that a stand-in would have to do. She hoped Fluff wouldn't hold it against
her. However, there seemed to be no recrimination, and it took very little
persuasion on her part to get the two girls to come back with her to the
flat she shared with Charlotte and Josephine, knowing that neither of them
were at all likely to be there when she got there. Amna was still very
reserved, but Susan admired her body and learnt from Fluff just how much
and how expensively it had been resculptured. She wasn't sure that she saw
much need to do so much body remodelling; but then it was something she'd
never needed at all in her career as her very lack of feminine attributes
was what had most contributed towards the success of her career. She
thought though that the extremes of depilation and breast enhancement that
Amna had endured probably pushed her rather too far towards rather
specialist taste and potentially limited her repertoire.

Susan still preferred to be watched and admired while making love,
although she'd more often succeeded in enjoying unobserved sex than she'd
once been able to. But with such new lovers as Amna and Fluff, she
preferred to be watched by one while she indulged in sex with the other.
Her affection for Amna was greatly increased when she volunteered to watch
she and Fluff make love, once Susan had explained to them her preferences.
So selfless! And she understood Fluff's own irrepressible sex drive so
well. Although it was Amna's body she most coveted, it was by Amna she
most wished to be admired, and so her own desires were to be the most
satisfied. She knew that as Fluff licked, probed, fingered and kissed her,
it would be Amna's eyes which were following the action and it was Amna at
whom she could gaze while her cunt was being caressed, sucked and prodded.

It was easy to guess Fluff's own preferences from the penises she had
tattooed on her face, her arms and the one on her back with Amna's name
ornately composed by the semen spurting from the massive tattooed penis
between her shoulder blades. With Fluff's prompting, she put her dildo on
and thrust it deep inside Fluff's cunt who arched back, slightly whining
with pleasure as Susan thrust again and again, the images of Charlotte's
male lovers flashing joyfully across her mind as her buttocks trembled and
shimmered. She smiled deliriously at Amna who was watching naked with her
enormous breasts and the full aureate glow of her sizeable artificially
firm nipples. She grinned and Amna grinned back, but quite clearly with
rather less enthusiasm. It flashed across Susan's mind that the girl probably wanted to be fucked herself.

She eased the dildo out from Fluff's cunt, moist with the girl's juices
and with the sweat of their bodies shining in the light cast by the
standard lamp. She whispered briefly to Fluff, and crawled over her
prostrate body to Amna, followed by the equally predatory Fluff. Her
passion for Amna could no longer be sublimated. She threw herself on
Amna's body taking an enormous nipple in her teeth, and plunging her
fingers into the smooth and warm and ready gash of her cunt, and then her
dildo plunged straight in, under the shop girl's own dildo which pushed
hard against her slim waist. And then she pushed and pushed, watching
Amna's body tremble with delight, drawing gasps of pleasure as it eased
itself into the well-practised interior.

And finally, they slumped together, exhausted, Fluff, Amna and herself,
their bodies pouring perspiration and a strong smell of vaginal juices
permeating the air, and pubic hair tangled in the teeth and a sour taste on
all the tongues. Fluff lay back, a smile just discernible on the dense
tattoo on her face: her small breasts and long nipples hard and excited.
Susan leaned over Amna, and stroked her shoulder and breasts, while a
finger probed idly around the entrance to her cunt.

"You've certainly come a long way since your first screen test, Amna,"
she remarked admiringly. "You really didn't have anything like the passion
and abandon you have now."

Amna smiled sadly. She stroked Fluff's arm around the tattoo of an
ejaculating penis. "It's all thanks to Fluff. Thanks to her I've learnt
to enjoy sex."

"But surely Fatima's help and assistance must have contributed something
as well?"

"Fatima?"

"Yes. Your agent. She's given you so much coaching. And she's paid so
much attention to your body. You're so slim where it should be slim and so
full where it should be so. Fatima's surely done her bit towards improving
your sexual ..."

"How do you know about Fatima?"

Susan smiled. "What don't I know about Fatima! She's always here.
She's got more energy than most porn stars. And she likes it long and
hard. men or women it's much the same to her. Though I think it might be
the men she likes best. The ones that Charlotte and Josephine bring her
anyway. She's been the nearest to a girlfriend I've ever really had..."

"Fatima comes here?"

"Of course, she does. Didn't you know? Not so much recently, but still
often enough. She's a good agent, I'm sure. She certainly does her
homework..."

"With you? She makes love to you?"

"Well, what do you expect her to do?"

"How long's this been going on for?"

"Oh, months! Ever since she started being your agent. She talks about
you ever so much. She really cares about your career. She's always ..."

"Fatima comes here. To your flat. And she makes love to you. All this
time and ..." Amna suddenly burst into tears, pushed herself off Susan and
Fluff and stood slightly apart. Susan became aware that perhaps there was
something about this discovery that especially disturbed her. Was it do
with all those films, videos and posters of her in Amna's room.

"Don't worry, Amna dear. It's not ..."

"Fatima! The bastard! The cunt! The traitor!" Suddenly cried Amna,
jumping up, picking up her few clothes and running off. Both Susan and
Fluff were taken by surprise as she disappeared, the flat door slamming
behind her.

"What's the matter? What have I said?" Susan wondered.

Fluff snuggled up to her, grasping Susan's dildo in her hand. "Nothing
that shouldn't have been said a long time ago!" She said with a smile,
steering the dildo back towards her cunt.

Fatima's friend Khadija was a tall, statuesque woman with light brown
skin, long black hair and dressed at the moment in silky lingerie as she
relaxed in Fatima's flat and no longer needed the protection of her scarf
and long dress. Fatima dressed much less modestly: her brassiere was cut
so low that her nipples couldn't possibly be covered by their lace and her
panties split across the crotch so that her crotch was revealed whenever
she uncrossed her legs. She also wore the black silk stockings she so
rarely removed, but had discarded her shoes. Khadija had become accustomed
to her friend's new boldness: one which had become so much more pronounced
since the day she'd first enticed her into bed, and introduced her to a
mode of pleasure- making she enjoyed so much more than the five minute
fucks her divorced husband had been content with. It took some effort for
her to accept the terms of their relationship, aware that her friend shared
her body with other women and sometimes with men, but it scarcely lessened
her appetite for Fatima's body.

The doorbell rang. Loud and insistently. It then rang again, this time
for even longer. "Who could that be?" Wondered Fatima angrily. "Do you
want to answer the door for me, Khaddie dearest, and find out who it is?"

Khadija nodded. It would be unrealistic to expect Fatima to answer,
dressed as she was, but it was only as she opened the door she reflected
that she too was rather immodestly dressed. She hoped the visitor wasn't a
man. She was therefore initially quite pleased to find that it was a girl:
but what a girl! She was dark-skinned, but still unmistakeably Asian, with
very large breasts under a strangely designed slip and, most grotesquely, a
huge dildo strapped around her crotch, obscuring her pubic region.

"Where is she? Where's Fatima?" The girl demanded, pushing straight
past Khadija and charging into the living room. Khadija was taken aback,
but she recalled it was Amna, Salim's niece, whom she'd met at her house.
The girl had changed, she was sure. Where had those breasts come from?
And the lips and cheeks seemed different somehow, not to mention the round
buttocks and the slim waist. Khadija wandered into the living room where a
tearful Amna was railing at an impassive Fatima.

"So all these months, while I've been doing whatever you told me to ...
while I've had my tits and arse pumped up and lost all my pubic hair ...
you've been fucking Susan who you know I've always ... who you knew was
the one ..."

"I really don't know what business it is of yours to dictate who I
should ..."

"It's not just anyone. It's Susan. You've been deceiving me. While
I've been idolising her, you've been fucking her. While I've ..."

"I've not been deceiving you, Amna. I've simply not been informing you.
Do you tell me about everyone you make love with? Did you ask my
permission to hang around with your prick faced fluffer girlfriend? I'm
your agent, not your fucking ..."

"It's different. It's not the same thing at all! Susan's not anyone.
It's because of her that I ..."

"And haven't I helped you in your career ambitions? Haven't I helped
you in every way possible? The work-outs to keep you slim and fit. The
diets I've persuaded you to take. All the care I've taken on your
appearance ..."

"You've just made me into a fucking freak. Look at me! Look at these!"
Amna impulsively pulled off her slip, revealing the breasts that she had
hidden so ineptly underneath. Khadija was impressed and slightly aroused
by the size of them. So round and full and the nipples so well formed and
precise. "I'm just a freak!"

"Of course you're not a freak!" Smiled Fatima. "You're beautiful.
Desirable. And it's thanks to me you are. What do you think, Khadija?
What do you think of Amna's body? Don't you think she's beautiful?
Doesn't the mere sight of her make you feel hot?"

Khadija was certainly aroused by Amna's body, but she felt no less
guilty for it. However, it was obvious that there her body was a little
unnatural. The breasts were almost too perfect, the contours were almost
too exaggerated. Was this all the result of cosmetic surgery? she
wondered. "Yes," she agreed breathlessly. "She's very attractive!"

"Don't you just want to touch those breasts? Take them in your hands.
Caress them with your tongue? Don't they arouse you?"

Khadija nodded.

"You can of course. You don't mind, do you Amna? Khadija can feel the
firmness of your bosoms. See what a woman you've become."

Amna nodded expressionlessly.

"Go ahead then, Khadija. Don't feel embarrassed."

Khadija was embarrassed of course. The only woman she'd ever touched
before was Fatima, and that was after a lot of persuasion and coaxing. But
Khadija approached Amna, her hands stretched out in front of her, and felt
the weight of the warm fleshy mounds in her palms.

"Put your tongue on them. Feel the nipples with your lips."

Khadija abruptly removed her hands. "Oh! I couldn't do that!"

"Why not? Amna wouldn't mind. She makes love every day. If not with
Fluff or Salim or me, then with someone on the set of her fuck films. It's
nothing to her. In fact, what she enjoys most is fucking with that giant
dildo of hers. That's what she and her slut girlfriend are always doing.
You'd like to fuck Khadija, wouldn't you? Push your expensive ebony thing
up her cunt. Or not even Khadija. How about me?"

Fatima leaned back on the armchair and spread her legs. She parted the
crotch of her panties to reveal the whole beauty of her vagina.

"Look at this, Amna. It's all yours! It's hot and moist and ready. Go
ahead! Fuck me! Get that dildo inside me. Pump away! You know it's what
you like to do most!"

It was then that an abashed Khadija witnessed Amna approach Fatima, her
dildo erect in front of her, and then with very little ceremony, plunge it
straight into Fatima's vagina, which easily accepted it, and then pump her
monstrous buttocks back and forth as she rhythmically fucked her friend.
Khadija sank into another armchair and watched as the buttocks pulsed back
and forth. Fatima grasped Amna close to her body, pushing her tongue into
Amna's mouth, her angular knees spread apart. Part of her was aroused, but
more of her was disgusted and rather jealous at her friend's explicit and
wanton display of lewd lasciviousness.

"Don't just watch, Khadija!" Fatima suddenly ordered, clearly not so
lost in her carnal activities as to forget her friend. "Join in too!"

"I couldn't! I can't!"

"Of course you can! Amna's not a girl to object. Look at her tattoo."
She indicated Amna's arm on which there was a small tattoo of an erect
penis with the word Fluff written along the length of it. "Amna enjoys it!
She wants it!"

Still wearing her lingerie, and smiling foolishly, Khadija approached
the two women. She placed her palms on Amna's warm sweating back and laid
her head on the space between her shoulder blades. She felt the thrust of
Amna's buttocks against her waist, and closed her eyes. She then felt the
attention of hands on her body, easing off her slip and knickers, caressing
her vagina, stroking her proud pointed breasts. She kept her eyes closed.
She didn't care who it was. The caresses were so warm, seductive and
comforting. And then, as she'd half-hoped and half-dreaded, she felt the
long dildo ease into a vagina which since her husband's last drunken fuck
before they'd divorced was the first time it had been penetrated by
anything so large or phallic. She surrendered herself to the caresses and
tongues, feeling more satisfied and aroused than ever before.

She slightly opened her eyes, frightened to see the reality of what was
happening to her, to find that it was indeed Fatima's familiar tasting
mouth glued to her own and witnessing Amna fucking ecstatically above her,
the large breasts scarcely moving with each thrust high above her face, and
Fatima's hands roaming about her nipples. She gasped and gasped and then
shrieked, surprising herself by the intensity of the orgasm that racked her
body.



XXXIX



Emma took her role as Maisie's guardian at least as seriously as she
took her role as her lover. She knew the importance of the child's
education, and arranged a place for her in the city's premier Naturist
Secondary School. It was, of course, a private school (the fees for which
Emma could now easily afford) and was attended by the children of the
wealthy and well-to-do who wished their children to have as fully as
possible a naturist upbringing. Not a few were workers in the sex industry
like Emma herself, and several other children made a living in sex
entertainment themselves, so Emma was sure that Maisie was in an
appropriate environment. This was an opportunity which Emma rather envied
of Maisie. No such option had been made available to her when she was
younger. Her parents wouldn't have been able to afford it, even if they'd
had the slightest intention of encouraging what they considered to be their
daughter's unhealthy obsession.

On those days when Maisie was not required to work at the television
station, Emma would drive her to the school along with all the other
parents and guardians. She would kiss her child lover affectionately,
while Maisie's reaction was somewhat less predictable. Sometimes, she took
Emma's kisses almost on sufferance in the way Emma had always considered
her own mother's acts of affection. Sometimes, she was very passionate,
even sometimes taking the time to kneel down in front of her and tongue her
vagina, even in full gaze of her fellow pupils. Emma was very embarrassed
about this, though she came to realise that this was to counter the similar
attention one of the boys was making to his father's erect penis in an
adjacent car. This might not be the excuse for lovemaking that Emma was
most enthusiastic about, but she loved Maisie so much that she couldn't
refuse even the smallest act of love. She felt quite helpless as the
child's tongue licked around the slightly thickened mound of her clitoris
and the gush of vaginal fluids joined the saliva from Maisie's mouth.

One of Emma's early worries related to Maisie's teachers. She feared
that they might take advantage of Maisie or the other pupils. The school
had an atmosphere slightly charged with sensuality with so many naked men,
women and children. But she was reassured by the school's ethical
policies. The school had a very uncompromising attitude towards sexual
liaisons between staff and pupil; however lax it was with regards to sexual
relationships between staff which, although not exactly encouraged, was
nearly expected and certainly very common. However genuine or mutual the
affection there might be between a teacher and pupil, any sexual
relationship resulted in instant dismissal, a sanction which the headmaster
regretted had had to be enforced on occasion. It was not thought
appropriate for staff to have anything other than professional
relationships with their wards, although the school had no expressed
opinion regarding the ethics or otherwise of adult-child relationships in
general. What a child did with adults outside its province of concern was
neither one thing nor another. Although the staff may very well have
suspected that Emma's relationship with Maisie might have a sexual element
(and knowing Maisie's tendency to boast, such suspicions may very easily
have been confirmed) there was no evidence of it when she attended the
Parents Evenings, along with all the other naked parents and guardians.

Maisie certainly had sexual relations with other pupils. Emma might
regret the extent of Maisie's boasting and the details in which she
divulged them, but she felt unable to do anything about it. Censoriousness
was not a role she could play without too much hypocrisy. Much of this
sexual activity took place at school, though how the teachers could remain
oblivious to its occurrence was beyond Emma. It took place in the playing
field, in the gym, in the playground, in the toilets and sometimes in the
classroom. On occasion, Maisie invited schoolfriends back with her to
their home, where no pretence at all was made of their sexual activity.
Emma would sit in the living room, listening to the gasps of sexual passion
emitting from Maisie's room, coming either from her lover or from her
schoolfriends. Although, she regretted this lack of exclusivity in her
love life, it seemed somehow more appropriate that a girl as young as
Maisie, whose breasts were still no more than the merest mounds, and who
had but the barest suggestion of pubic hair should enjoy herself with those
much the same as herself. She refused all of Maisie's suggestions that she
participate in her sex games, particularly vehemently when they involved
the boys. However tiny and unthreatening their tiny hairless penises might
seem, she had no wish to have one of them inside her, thank you very much!

Naturally, Maisie's best friends at school were those who like herself
made a living from sex television or sex video. It was they who she had
most in common and most likely to meet at the television studios.
Thankfully, none of her soap opera colleagues attended the same school, as
that would have presented Emma with rivals at school and at work. However,
her closest friends had become very frequent visitors, often making love
with Maisie in her full gaze in the living room or in the kitchen. "Oh,
Emma won't mind!" She'd hear Maisie saying, while feeling a pang of
jealousy as she watched Isambard, Priscilla or Eglantine stimulate her
lover to passionate cries of ecstasy which Emma was glad there were no
neighbours to overhear.

Emma didn't want Maisie's studies to suffer as a result of her full
sex-life, and was extremely strict about her doing her homework. This was
an effort which seemed to consume almost all her evenings at home, made
particularly difficult by Maisie's attempts to divert Emma away from the
task of coaching her through Mathematics, Geography and English Literature
by stroking her vagina or kissing her breasts.

"Not now, Maisie!" Emma would say sternly, brushing Maisie's hands off
her with regret. The sacrifices she made for her lover! "Let's try this
again. If the sum of the angles of a triangle are always 180°, what is the
sum of the angles of a rectangle given that is constituted of two
triangles."

Maisie was a bright girl however much she was easily distracted.
"That's twice 180°. Erm, 360°. Must we do this, Emma darling? "She eased
a hand between Emma's thighs." Wouldn't it be much more fun if we made
love? Eglantine never does this at home. She and her brother are always
fucking together..."

"I don't care what Eglantine does with her brother," winced Emma, who
found Eglantine rather attractive if a little simple. "We'll make love
afterwards, if you like. But not until we finish all these exercises. If
the radius of a circle is 2, express the circle's area in multiples of ?."

"4?," answered Maisie hardly hesitating. "Oh this is boring! Wouldn't
you much rather make love to me?"

"No!" Lied Emma. "Now, what's the circumference of the same circle?"

"The same thing!" Maisie replied with a humph, removing her hand from
Emma's legs and picking up her pencil. She put it in her mouth, and chewed
it. "Duncan never has to do this with his mother. He says they fuck all
night long. And with his father as well! His bum's ever so sore some
mornings."

"I hope you don't let anyone put anything up your bottom!" Emma said
sternly with alarm.

"So what if I did?" Maisie challenged.

Emma frowned. What sort of relationship did she have when she had
neither the moral authority of a parent nor could demand the fidelity of a
normal lover? How flawed was their relationship if there was so much open
promiscuity and sex? "Just don't!" Emma said firmly. "Now, let's look at
this question about cosines and tangents. Which of the two tends to ??"

"Tangents," Maisie answered with a frown.

"What's the product of ?2 and ?8?"

"4," Maisie replied. "Oh, Emma. I'm sure you're trying to do the best
for me, but why do I have to learn all this? I'm never going to need to
know any of this in my current career. Or any other career I'm likely to
have."

Emma couldn't deny the possible truth of this assertion, but she still
felt that she would prefer her darling Maisie to at least have the
possibility to change careers when she was older. "You just don't know
what you might need to know, Maisie sweetest," she said, kissing her lover
tenderly on the forehead. "Let's look at this logic problem. What does
this mean?s"

She pointed at the proposition which read "?(?y??z)". Although Maisie's
gaze was now focused on predicate calculus, Emma's looked lovingly at the
hollow in Maisie's bent neck. The inside of her heart melted, and only the
greatest amount of will-power prevented her leaning forward and kissing her
tenderly above the shoulders.

XL



"Ohh! Ohhh! Ooohhh!" Gasped Hyacinth as Edward pushed his huge black
penis deeper and deeper into the welcoming liquid warmth of her cunt, her
legs spread wide and her throat becoming hoarse with the expression of her
passion. She only gradually became aware that she and Edward were not
alone in the tiny bedsit. Opposite her and watching her dispassionately
was Enid. This didn't in itself trouble her. She wasn't expected to stop
for Enid's benefit, and had no intention of doing so. It was with a start,
and reluctantly removing Edward's wildly twitching penis, clearly just on
the verge of releasing its load, that she realised that Enid wasn't
unaccompanied. She curled up on the bed, modestly covering her shaved cunt with her hands, as she examined Enid's friend who seemed as unconcerned
about her lovemaking as her flatmate.

Enid's friend was naked like her and a few years older than her.
However she was also quite pregnant: not yet in the final month of
pregnancy but her stomach was swollen out and glistened in the light of the
bright lamps. She smiled warmly at Hyacinth and also at Edward who seemed
more embarrassed than anyone else, futilely covering his massive penis with
his hands and blushing quite visibly.

"This is Charlotte," Enid announced. "My friend from work. I thought
I'd invite her back to our flat, if that's alright, Hyacinth?"

"That's fine! No problem!" Claimed Hyacinth, who nonetheless felt
rather less than elated by the unwelcome break in her lovemaking. She
climbed up from the bed, and pulled a large white sweater over her head,
which covered her down to her thighs, and was decorated with the college crest. "Would you like some coffee, Charlotte?"

Enid's colleague mused thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind some tea," she
remarked. "I hope you don't mind me interrupting you like this, but I've
known Enid such a long time, and I've just never visited her at home
before. She's so often suggested I visit. You must be Hyacinth. Enid's
told me ever so much about you."

"Has she?" retorted Hyacinth, glaring at Enid with barely concealed
hostility. However, she walked out of the bedroom to the small kitchenette
which was hidden just beside the small bathroom/shower and toilet. Enid
kissed Charlotte tenderly on the lips and chased after Hyacinth, who picked
up a plastic kettle and was about to fill it with water from the tap.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you like that, Hyacinth!" Pleaded Enid, who
had clearly noticed the hostility on her friend's face. I just didn't know
you had a friend with you. It's Edward, isn't it? He seems to be visiting
so much more these days. Anyway, we knocked on the door pretty loudly.
You must've just not heard us. And when we'd opened the door, it was too
late. There wasn't anything we could do."

"You found time to take off your clothes," observed Hyacinth ruefully,
as the water filled the kettle.

"That really doesn't take long. And they are so unnecessary, don't you
think?"

"I'm not sure that's how Edward thinks," sniffed Hyacinth, clicking the
switch on the kettle, and screwing open a jar of instant tea. "He's not as
used to seeing naked women as you are."

"Or you, for that matter!" Giggled Enid, putting an arm around her
friend's shoulder and kissing her on the cheek. "Anyway, what do you think
of Charlotte? She's pretty nice, isn't she?"

"I thought it was Josephine you were in love with," remarked Hyacinth,
sorting out the mugs. "It's she you go and see perform most nights. It's
she who you go on about most. I thought your feelings were too strong to
want to make love to her lover."

"What's this about making love to Charlotte?" Wondered Enid. "She's
just a friend."

"Are you sure?" Wondered Hyacinth.

"You're not jealous of her, are you?"

"What a stupid idea, Charlotte! I'm just a bit pissed off, you barging
in while I was just about to come to an orgasm."

"Oh, that's nothing, Hyacinth. You do that most nights anyway. And if
not with Edward, then it's with me!"

Hyacinth couldn't really deny this, though she had no wish for Enid to
think that her tolerance of Enid's sexual desire and her willingness to let
Enid masturbate her meant that there was any emotional tie between them in
quite that way. She made no reply as she put spoonfuls of granules into
the mugs, covered them in boiling water and placed them on a tray.

Enid was concerned for her friend's lack of enthusiasm. She put her arm
around Hyacinth's waist, and rested her cheek on her shoulder. "Oh,
Hyacinth! Sweetest! Don't take it wrong! I have so few friends, and
Charlotte's such a good one. We have so much in common. She's a lesbian as well as a naturist, you know! There aren't many like us!"

Hyacinth relented. She was being mean spirited. "I suppose, you're
right!" She reluctantly agreed, turning her face round and kissing Enid
softly and dryly on the lips, but held her firmly so that she would
recognise that this was no prelude to the more physical tenderness that her
friend was so enthusiastic about. She picked up the tray and followed Enid
into the main bedroom, expecting to see Edward clothed and awkward, sitting
on the edge of the bed, as put out by the intrusion as she had been.

What she hadn't expected to see was Charlotte lying on her back in the
warmth she had so recently vacated, with Edward's buttocks thrusting
backwards and forwards into the hairy cunt shadowed by her rounded stomach,
the flash of light prominent on his smooth black skin. Charlotte certainly
seemed nothing loath, as she gave vent to short little gasps of pleasure.
And Edward was quite clearly enjoying the exercise himself. Only a
tremendous exercise of will prevented Hyacinth letting the tray fall to the
floor and the mugs spill tea onto the nylon carpet. She placed it shakily
on the small table.

"I thought you said Charlotte was a lesbian!" She said accusingly to her
flatmate.

Enid looked almost as much disconcerted as Hyacinth. She was leaning
against a chair, watching the broad smile on Charlotte's face with an
expression of as much disgust as fascination. "She is! She is!" Said
Enid. "But I suppose being a lesbian doesn't necessarily mean that..."

"Well, something must have made her pregnant! However versatile
Josephine may be, I don't think she could quite do that. I don't think
your Charlotte's any more a lesbian than me!"

"But lesbianism's an emotional thing. Not a physical thing.
Charlotte's always said that she enjoys making love with men, but it's
women that she loves..."

"The best of both worlds, I suppose," sneered Hyacinth.

"Oh! Sweetest! Hyacinth! It's not the same. It's not the same at
all!"

"I don't care! Not only does your friend burst in on me while I'm being
fucked, as soon as I'm out of sight she seduces Edward. I hate her! I
hate you! I hate Edward!"

"Hyacinth! Don't say that! You know how much I love you! men aren't
the same! Believe me! Charlotte just doesn't see men like you do!"

"I'm not sure about that!" Mused Hyacinth, as Charlotte and Edward's
bodies writhed together, a torrent of semen dripping down Charlotte's
thighs. "What's the difference between me and Edward, and Charlotte and
Edward?"

Enid faced Hyacinth, and brushed away a tear of chagrin that had dripped
down her cheek. She kissed Hyacinth firmly on the mouth, and recognising
the confusion which her flatmate was in, allowed herself an intimate
stroking of her shaven cunt, daringly pinching her clitoris with her
fingers. "This is a much more complex world than you think!" She declared
as she eased Hyacinth back onto the sofa and pulled her sweater off her
full round breasts, and eased a finger deeper into her still moist vagina.

XLI



It was the start of Rosemary's first academic year at the university
where she was to study Economics and General Business Studies. Although
she'd long been looking forwards to this day, it was also with some
trepidation that she'd also started the hunt to find digs for herself in
the area. She scoured through the local newspapers and studied the student
notice-boards, but it was the note in the window of an asian newsagent's
where she spotted the advertisement to flatshare Susan's apartment at what
was a remarkably reasonable rate. She took a note of the number on her
pocket PC, and dialed it on her mobile phone. The girl who answered the
phone sounded very enthusiastic, and very pleased that Rosemary was a
student. Clearly, it had just not crossed her mind to rent out to
students, despite the many colleges and universities in the vicinity.

"But before I offer you space in the flat I'd better see you," Susan
commented. "Some of the people who've shone interest have been ... well
... not best suited to sharing with me. Nor would they have got on very
well with my friends."

Susan's flat was a great deal better appointed than Rosemary had
imagined. How could it be so inexpensive? she wondered. It was quite
high up in an apartment block, with a beautiful view of the city below.
With some self-conscious nervousness, she pressed the buzzer, wondering
what this Susan might be like. She vaguely imagined someone in a smart
business-suit with prim wire-framed glasses and hair tied back. What she
didn't expect to see was a slim, not especially tall, oriental girl wearing
only a baggy pair of shorts with a monstrous black, anatomically correct
dildo protruding out of its fly and pointing towards her. The presence of
the dildo didn't distress her too much. After all quite a few of her
fellow students wore them. It was the fashion. Although most students had
less prominent ones, usually worn decoratively over tight jeans, or worn
instead of knickers. No, the presence of the dildo was not the most
startling feature about her. Nor the fact she was an oriental with no
accent to speak of. Nor that her hair was boyishly short. Nor that she
was topless. To Rosemary's eyes the most stunning feature was Susan's
almost total lack of breasts. She'd never been aware that it was possible
for a woman to be so conspicuously unendowed, and yet to show absolutely no
concern about it.

Susan was also rather startled. As well she might be. Her conversation
on the phone had prepared her for a young female student, which she'd
rather welcomed. She'd been very worried about sharing with a man, what
with her career in fuck films. But it had no way prepared her for a girl with such massively disproportionate breasts. Unsurprisingly it was the
very first thing that announced itself to her, although Rosemary was
otherwise still a very attractive girl, not at all plump despite the
dimensions of her bosom, and dressed remarkably demurely for a first year
student. Her long mousey brown hair flowed down over a shirt which was
quite clearly not designed to be worn by a woman, and tied together as best
it could to contain her breasts, which protruded bralessly from beneath her
denim jacket and supported only by their own properties as few bras could
ever contain such full round breasts, the nipples of which alone were many
times larger than her own tiny bust. She wore tight denim jeans and white
trainers, and carried a flowery bag which clearly contained her books and
bits and pieces.

Rosemary smiled shyly, used now to the curious effect of her appearance.
It was not one for which she was at all grateful. Most men, when they
spoke at all, spoke to her cleavage and not to her at all. Women also
treated her strangely as if she were suffering from some cruel disability.
Even her friends found it difficult to accommodate her breasts into their
acquaintance without some nervousness. And she'd never yet found anyone
brave enough to acquaint her with the pleasures of romance or love-making.

"I've come about the flat," said Rosemary at last.

It was only the following day that Rosemary moved into the flat, glad to
no longer have to sleep in a sleeping-bag on the floor of a friend's room
in the student halls. She hauled her bags across town, up the elevator to
the twelfth floor and then into the third of the three spacious bedrooms in
Susan's flat. As she undid her bags and laid the clothes tidily into the
many drawers, she couldn't help exulting in her good fortune in having
found such a luxurious well-appointed room in such a nice part of the city.
And with such a nice flatmate, or, really, landlady. When she'd got used
to Susan's semi-nudity, the two girls had had such a nice chat seated on
the large leather armchairs in the living room. All around them were
beautiful rugs on polished floor-boards, a massive television screen,
beautiful painted portraits, still lifes and landscapes, and classy modern
furniture. Susan was ever so interested in Rosemary's life, her studies at
the university and, oh!, all sorts of things. She was so good at
listening, and didn't seem at all bored as Rosemary prattled on. Oh! She
was so lucky, thought Rosemary as she arranged her ornaments and
possessions on the cupboards.

Eventually she emerged from her bedroom and wandered into the living
room where she found Susan sitting on an armchair listening to some gentle
jazz music and thumbing through a magazine. She looked up as Rosemary
entered, and smiled at her. "I've ordered you a desk to study at," she
announced. "It should arrive tomorrow and then you'll be settled for your
studies."

Rosemary was only half-aware of what Susan was saying as she was
slightly alarmed to see that Susan was totally nude, not even wearing the
dildo which she'd come to think as being integral to Susan's appearance.
She'd not often met naked women before, but Susan seemed totally
unembarrassed by her appearance, so she made no comment. She gingerly sat
herself down on another armchair, and felt herself sink into its firm
leather upholstery.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" asked Susan, standing up and revealing
her full erect nakedness. Rosemary nodded, but her thoughts were focused
on Susan's naked crotch which was shaved and made her look several years
younger than she was. But such a beautiful crotch: so tidy and smooth
against her flat taut torso.

Rosemary and Susan sipped the chilled Argentinean wine, a taste which
was still quite novel to Rosemary, and continued their conversation from
the previous day as if there had only been the briefest of pauses. They
discussed Rosemary's choice of studies at university, why she had been
attracted to the discipline of Economics and her school childhood.

"But how did you cope with the attention that your ... erm ... assets
must have provoked from your teachers and class mates?" wondered Susan.

"My assets?" wondered Rosemary at the delicate phrasing.

"Your bosom, I mean. It must have attracted a lot of comment."

"It did that," admitted Rosemary blushing. "I've often wished for
smaller."

"Not ones as small as mine, though," joked Susan, running a hand over
her own very different bust.

"Well, at least you don't have the problems I have in finding clothes
that fit," Rosemary retorted bitterly. "Nowhere can I find anything that's
designed for my fuller figure. And what I can find is always designed for
people very much fatter than me."

"I appreciate that," smiled Susan. "You have to wear just shirts like
the one you're wearing? Nothing else?"

"Dresses are horrible and shapeless. Blouses are the wrong shape. And
even the biggest tee-shirts rides up my boobs, showing half my stomach."

"Well, you don't have to wear anything on top while you're staying here,
Rosemary sweetest."

"Sorry?" wondered Rosemary, who wasn't sure she'd heard right.

"Don't be silly, Rosemary," smiled Susan standing up and placing her wie
glass on the glass top of a table. "If those tops are uncomfortable, just
take them off. It's not as if I'd ever object." She walked towards
Rosemary, leant over and unbuttoned the top of her shirt. "Come on. Take
it off. You'll feel much more at ease without it."

Rosemary blushed even deeper. "Are you sure? Won't I feel a little
chilly?"

"Not in the temperature I keep the flat," Susan assured her, unbuttoning
her shirt to the waist and parting it. Rosemary's breasts fell out with a
kind of woomph and revealed their whole glory. Susan was amazed to see
that natural breasts could be so naturally enormous. They were round,
full, and dominated by nipples whose aureate dark pinkness spread around a
taut sculptured centre which, in their unaccustomed bareness, stiffened to
the size of small thumbs. Should I? wondered Susan momentarily. But she
dismissed the thought, and eased Rosemary's blouse off her shoulders and
onto the floor. Where it lay looking very sorry for itself in a white heap
of shapeless linen on the intricate patterns of the Afghani rug Susan had
bought on one of her more exotic film shots.

"Don't you feel so much better now, Rosemary?" asked Susan, with a
sympathetic smile.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Susan returned to their
conversation about life in the city and in Rosemary's own town as if her
breasts had never once intruded themselves onto the discussion. This even
though it was uncomfortably clear to Rosemary that Susan's mind still
continued to wander back to the breasts which heaved in front of her, and
even without the hindrance of clothes weighed very heavily on her spine and
brushed occasionally against her be-jeaned knees.

As the days passed, Rosemary started her studies, bringing back piles of
dry Economics text-books on inflation, web-enabled business, stock market
fluctuations and business management. She would sit at her desk with the
computer that Susan let her use, or on a chair by the window with the sun
streaming in onto the turgid, polysyllabic prose of her chosen discipline.
And bit by bit, she was persuaded to abandon more than just her top,
revealing to Susan a firm body, with none of the folds of a plump woman,
but blessed with thighs and knees of appropriate proportion, and a waist
which curved in enough to give her sufficient contour for a woman of much
smaller mammary dimension. Her unviolated vagina had a bush of brown hair
which faded well into her slightly olive skin. But after a while it was
Rosemary's face that Susan most fell in love with. Her large brown eyes,
her slightly turned-up nose and a beautiful toothy smile that stretched her
seductive thick lips.

So, it was not at all surprising to Susan, nor to anyone who knew her,
that she and Rosemary found themselves together in Susan's large bed one
evening after slightly more glasses of wine than usual; even though it was
something that clearly took Rosemary by surprise. This was not what she
thought sharing a flat was about. Sharing a bed, especially with a woman,
had never been on her agenda when she was looking for digs. But she found
it very pleasant, perhaps, to her surprise, more than she'd imagined.
Although her new-found proclivity also alarmed her. What would her friends
think? What would her fellow students think? And even worse, what would
her parents, who were always so considerate and kind to her, think?

Susan was a very gentle and tender lover, bringing Rosemary gradually
towards the bed and onto the welcoming sheets. Guiding her with her hands,
and then exploring her body with her tongue, lips and then teeth. Her
fingers explored the crevices and contours of Rosemary's fully intact
labia, while her tongue licked and her mouth gobbled greedily on her
lodger's monstrous nipples. Her palms stroked the full roundness of
Rosemary's knees, her lips nibbled on Rosemary's eyebrows and ears and
toes. And then her fingers gently explored the inner sanctum of Rosemary's
virginity, bringing the girl to unaccustomed and thoroughly frightening
gasps and choked cries of delight as strange vibrations and spasms shook
her sweaty, almost slimy, body.

Of course, Rosemary always wondered how Susan could afford such a nice
flat but she never really suspected that it was as a result of working in
the sex industry. In fact, until they'd made love, Susan had been very coy
about disclosing what she did for a living. In fact, she'd been singularly
evasive. It was only after the two girls had had several more nights of
progressively more passionate lovemaking that Susan imparted this to her,
but so casually and matter-of-factly that it took Rosemary rather a few
hours to comprehend the enormity of this fact. Which was, of course, that
the first person she'd ever surrendered her body to habitually made love to
others, men and women, in front of cameras. And that evidence of her
lovemaking with these people was widely available in sex shops,
supermarkets and newsagents throughout the country. And, indeed, the
world.

However, the horror of it soon passed, and she allowed Susan to take her
most precious commodity, her maidenhead, with one of her smaller dildos.
And, Christ! It was painful. But the pain soon subsided, and she soon
forgot what had so recently happened to her, despite the clear and bloody
stains on the bedsheets and still glutinously shining on the length of the
pale pink penis-shaped dildo that Susan had chosen for this initial foray.

However, this was followed by more nights of similar penetration with
dildos of steadily larger dimensions and of shapes and forms which Rosemary
had never expected: including studded ones which gave spasms of pleasure in
the depths of her vagina she'd not even imagined. Even the long black
dildo she'd originally seen protruding from the fly of Susan's shorts came
into play, removing the very last traces of her maidenhead in a small
bloody spot on the very centre of the sheet. There was even a dildo for
her arse, which she allowed to enter her with some fear and anxiety, but
was strangely not unpleasant, rubbing against the sensitive nerves of her
vagina from a new and quite delightful direction.

Although she truly enjoyed the penetrations, it was the other lovemaking
with Susan which gave her the most pleasure, and gave her the deepest and
most satisfying orgasms. In fact, there was something grotesque, even
comical, about the strange positions she and Susan had to adopt for her
lover to adopt the masculine poses required for strap-on sex. She much
preferred to explore her smaller lover's tender white skin, the tiny
breasts she so enjoyed licking and teasing, the porcelain beauty of her
hands, the delicious contours of her smooth small feet and its perfectly
proportioned toes. And, of course, Susan's face, with her beautiful dark
eyes and her mouth. The ivory hardness and whiteness of her teeth. The
liquid muscular flexibility of her tongue. Those long passionate kisses
which were the prelude and epilogue to their long passionate stints of
lovemaking.

Nevertheless, Rosemary couldn't remain forever secluded from the reality
of Susan's profession. And it first became clear to her one day when she
came home from a lecture on Money Supply to find Susan entertaining two
friends who were introduced to her as Amna and Fluff. It shocked her to
see these two much more vulgar exemplars of the sex profession than her own
darling loveliness, Susan. Fluff particularly shocked her: totally nude,
although Rosemary was still wearing a baggy student sweatshirt and slacks.
And her face. That horrible tattoo that totally defaced it, partly
obscuring the fact that her head, unlike her vagina, was totally shaved.
And wasn't it a tattoo of erect penis spurting a load of yellowish semen
onto her cheeks? How could anyone voluntarily consent to such a disgusting
disfigurement? And this was merely the most prominent of a series of
tattoos, mostly of penises, but some of vaginas and naked women scattered
about a body which was only tattoo-free from below her breasts and to the
top of her thighs.

How could anyone make love to a woman like that? Rosemary wondered,
although she knew that the answer lay in Amna, who was herself voluntarily
disfigured, if not in such a hideous provocative fashion. Amna wore
nothing but a black leather jacket open at the front and a large black
dildo strapped onto her hips. Her lips were curiously puckered, although
she was clearly not of African ethnic origin. Her stomach was clearly
outlined by the muscles of her exercise and practise. Her arse, when she
stood up, was prominent and quite unnaturally round and firm. But this was
as nothing to her very firm, very hard and rather large breasts, of a
composition quite different to her own still larger breasts. The nipples
seemed unnaturally small for such a large bosom.

"So this is your new girlfriend, Susan!" Fluff commented with a smile,
just barely visible through the pattern of her facial tattoo. "And what a
fucking find she is too! Don't you think, Amna? Just look at the size of
her fucking breasts! And they're fucking real too, aren't they?"

Susan nodded shyly, clearly a little embarrassed by the rudeness of her
friend. She stood in her shorts with a dildo protruding through the fly as
she had when Rosemary had first met her.

"They are real!" commented Amna in awe. "It's almost unreal! Gain
without pain! I've never seen a pair like them in my whole career!"

"Nor me!" smiled Fluff. "Come on, Rosemary! Don't be so shy. We're
not going to hurt you. We're just paying Susan a visit. We've just not
seen her in a while. Have we, Susan."

And then, to Rosemary's jealous horror, she put an arm round her darling
Susan's perfect bare white shoulders and kissed her very fully on the
mouth, an arm around her back, while stroking the slight bumps of her bare
breast with a familiarity which came so easily and so smoothly, it could
only be because it was expected of her. Rosemary felt slightly giddy, and
steadied herself slowly into one of Susan's welcoming leather arm chairs.
As if on cue, Amna also sat down, while Susan and Fluff stood together,
arms around each others shoulders and back, and Susan really not looking
nearly as uncomfortable or awkward as Rosemary would have hoped.

However, Susan could see Rosemary's distress. She eased herself
reluctantly out of Fluff's embrace and sat on the arm of Rosemary's chair,
put her arms around her neck, beneath the long hair which cascaded onto her
chest and tickled her bare midriff. "Oh, Rosemary! Darling! Sweetheart!
Don't take so! Amna and Fluff are friends of mine from, oh! so long back.
I love them dearly. But you are my dearest and closest!" She placed a
tender kiss on Rosemary's lips and took her limp hand in her own ivory
white one. "You must believe that you are the one I most love!"

"Fucking romantic, ain't you, Susan!" laughed Fluff. "I almost fucking
envy you. But I've got my own dearest heart. Haven't I, Amna, honey!" And
she joined Amna on the chair where she sat, and with no prelude or
invitation, thrust her tongue deep into Amna's mouth, and ran her fingers
over the full firm contours of Amna's round nearly spherical bosom, briefly
tweaking a nipple between a forefinger and thumb. "You fucking love me,
too, don't you, cherry pie?"

"I love you more than I can say!" gasped Amna, Fluff's saliva dribbling
from the corner of her mouth: a small droplet detaching itself from her
chin and plopping onto one of Fluff's hands otherwise preoccupied with her
nipple.

"I don't ... I don't ... I don't know what to say..." gasped Rosemary.

"Don't say fucking anything!" sneered Fluff removing Amna's jacket from
her shoulders and kissing her fully on the mouth. Amna gasped with an
expression of delight and hugged her lover hard against her large breasts.

"Oh! I love you! I love you!" Amna cried.

Rosemary sat transfixed with Susan's arms around her shoulders, watching
for the first time in real life as a couple made love to each other. It
was a passionate animal experience that she knew intimately but had never
witnessed, not even on celluloid. The two bodies grappled onto the floor
intertwined, sweating and so so absolutely physically naked. This is what
it looks like, Rosemary thought, as she watched Amna's enormous dildo find
its way into Fluff's vagina, and as Amna thrust her absurdly full buttocks
backwards and forwards above her.

She turned to face Susan. She had no idea of what to say, but was not
at all surprised as silently and seductively, to the background groans and
moans of the other couple, Susan removed not only her own clothes, but also
Rosemary's. "Oh! I love you, Susan!" Rosemary managed to say over the
excitement rising in her chest and clogging her mouth.

And soon there were four bodies writhing and moaning and grappling
together on Susan's rugs: at first apart as two couples deeply in love,
and, then, predictably but not without some anxiety as an enmeshed
foursome, writhing as a single eight-legged, four-tongued, six and two-half
breasted mass of flesh. This was the first time, Rosemary mused, with
another woman, or other women, but still including Susan whose ivory flesh
she sought out as much as she could between the dark Amna's dark skin and
Fluff's psychedelic one. For the first time, she kissed another woman, as
Amna took her tongue into her mouth, and slightly nipped it, while was it
two? or was it three? or was it even four? fingers probed, explored,
penetrated and squeezed her precious labia and vagina. And whose dildo was
thrusting in her? Was it Amna's? Or her darling Susan's? And what was
that inside her arse?

She groaned and yelled and panted as she shuddered with orgasm, but also
watched as Fluff's own skinny tattooed legs twitched and shuddered to its
own repertoire of pleasure. She took Fluff's vagina in her teeth, to find
herself face to face with Susan, whilst behind her a dildo thrust into and
out of her vagina.

Susan smiled lasciviously, her tongue licking her teeth, from out of
which one or more of Fluff's pubic hair were embedded. "Oh, Rosemary,
isn't this fun? Isn't this the most fun? Isn't this what life was always
meant to be about?"

Amongst the liquid, physical, hot, sweaty tremors of passions which
wracked her body so, Rosemary was able to reflect. Maybe Susan was right.
Maybe this was what living was for. Wasn't this paradise? And her
enormous breasts which had caused her so much embarrassment for so much of
her life was now giving so much pleasure, as she felt two tongues work
around her hard nipples. At least now they were being used for the purpose
for which she must have been so blessed. Never again would she regret the
prominence of her assets. The only drawback, she thought, was that some
day it might end. But until then... Rosemary nodded. "Oh! Susan! I
love you so much. You've brought me so much pleasure. How can I ever ever
thank you enough?"

XLII



Tanya was beautiful. This was something about herself which she knew to
be true and which she did her utmost to use to her best advantage. But
beauty wasn't everything. She was also ambitious and she was frustrated by
her position as a junior presenter on the evening entertainment show on
Harlot TV. Sure, she was lucky to have made it in television, even if it
was sex television where standards were very low compared to mainstream
television. She was convinced that her assets weren't being used to their
full. She knew that being filmed having sex on television wasn't really
stretching her talents at all. It was not enough that her producer kept
promising her better things to her from the comfort of his sheets. Nor
that she could see the effect her beauty had on her fellow presenters and
guests. Not that the quantity of sperm that they spurted onto and into her
wasn't proof enough. Just the way they looked at her body was enough.

She knew better than most how to present herself. She took great care
of her appearance. Her hair was cut and dyed by the best hairdresser she
could afford: a pleasing blonde bob that emphasised the curve of her neck,
the classical contours of her chin and cheeks and showed off her high
forehead. She spent time and money on make-up which subtly enhanced her
eyes and lips without overdoing it, like some of the sex television
presenters who had none of the aesthetic sense of balance which ensured she
didn't look like a slut. And she was worldly enough to know that it was
her body which represented her fortune in this corner (as it would be any
other corner) of the sex industry. This she enhanced by a choice of
clothes where the tops, however long the sleeves, stopped just below the
nipples of her apple-shaped breasts, and a choice of skirts and shorts
which showed off her long thin legs and hung low enough on her hips to show
just how far down she shaved her crotch. A little bit further down or a
little further up and she'd be revealing too much for the subtle effect of
temptation she had nurtured to be effective. But what she always displayed
was a midriff, with a perfect waist, a teardrop shaped navel and the
contours of her hips. What she was saying, she knew, was that unless it
meant business, what she had could be seen but not touched.

Her ambition left her somewhat lonely. None of her colleagues were
anything other than competition for her, and no one in more senior
positions to her in the television hierarchy was anything other than an
object of envy or a stepping stone in her career. Most people sensed this,
and left Tanya alone, which generally suited her fine. However, not
everyone seemed aware of her aura, and none less than Emma, who worked as a
producer on the station's naturist programmes and as a commissioning editor
for some of the station's more prestigious programmes: whose high
pretensions were matched by equally low ratings. But Emma was as
blissfully unaware of this as she seemed to be of Tanya's sexual aura.
Tanya was aware of this, as Emma looked at her with exactly the same kind
of unobservant, uncritical eye as she did with everyone else, even the
fucking make-up girls or the cameramen.

This fascinated Tanya. It particularly fascinated her as Emma's sexual
proclivity towards women was well-known on the station. And she could see
that the main focus of Emma's attention was the slutty Maisie who'd once
been on a television sex soap opera, but was now presenting a teenage sex
programme with Rochester, a small boy with a big name. She also knew that
Emma's relationship with Maisie couldn't possibly be exclusive. It was
common knowledge that Maisie was spreading herself thinly amongst the male
and female presenters and actors of Harlot TV, both on-screen and off. It
was certain that Emma also knew of this, and Tanya found it unimaginable
that an attractive woman like Emma wouldn't also be doing much the same
thing, but in a perhaps more discreet way.

It was difficult to think of anything that Maisie and Emma had in common
with each other, except the habitual nudity which in Emma's case was like
some kind of a fucking religion and in Maisie's was just a kind of
carelessness. They were certainly nowhere near the same age. And Emma
possessed a quite different ethos with regards to how she comported and
expressed herself. It was unlikely that she would share any of the teenage
enthusiasms which Maisie displayed on Wasted! every Monday and Wednesday
night. All that fast, frantic, noisy dance music. All those wacky
fashions. And all those infantile sex games that featured so highly on the
programme.

Tanya stood behind the cameras on the set of Wasted! not really
thinking of anything at all, except perhaps of her contempt for all the
foolishness that was going on. Maisie was fellating the singer of some
fairly puerile pop song, dressed only in a pair of absurdly high-heeled
yellow trainers, with her mass of curly hair teased in peculiar directions
by a bizarre selection of hair clips. However, even Tanya had to admit
that Maisie had a certain amount of technical skill: bringing the singer to
ejaculation at just the right point in the dance tune that was running over
it, letting the semen arch onto her chest without messing up the discreet
make-up on her small nipples.

She then watched as Maisie effortlessly returned to the microphone with
Rochester, betraying her sexual excitement in the breathiness of her voice,
where she announced the appearance of the next guest, who was a teenage
actor on IVY Grove, a sex soap opera set in a high school which was
particularly popular with teenage viewers at the moment. She turned around
to leave when she saw Emma standing nearby watching Maisie with a
peculiarly sad expression. Tanya frowned, a little puzzled by Emma's
expression, but sensing that it must illustrate some disconcertment for
Maisie's chosen career. But how was she to express the right degree of
sympathy without it seeming contrived?

"That Maisie is very talented," she offered as a comment to Emma, who
started abruptly. She hadn't expected anyone to notice her there. And who
was this woman? She vaguely recognised Tanya as one of the many minor
television presenters at Harlot TV, whom she rarely bothered to
acknowledge. She smiled at Tanya, and returned her attention to Maisie.

Tanya was not going to be dismissed that easily. "I'm sure I've seen
Maisie in something else. A long time ago. I can't remember what..." Emma
turned her head back to Tanya, clearly unsure how not to be rude to this
woman. "What was it? King's Cross? Time Square?"

"Nothing as good as that," Emma replied, clearly provoked by Tanya's
recollection of two low-ratings, high art sex dramas that she'd
commissioned. "It was St. Denis Road. That was long before the scandal
with the producer and that horse brought the series to an end."

"Well, I wasn't really much of a viewer," lied Tanya, who had a weakness
for soap operas. "I'm sure she was very good in that."

"Not really," said Emma, returning her gaze to a television set on the
wall which screened the action on the set. Tanya judged that that was all
she was going to get out of this conversation, so she discreetly left Emma
to her own concerns.

However, Tanya was nothing if not persistent. She made a point of
greeting Emma whenever they passed on the corridor, which at first
surprised Emma but to which she eventually became accustomed. She even
signalled with her eyes some appreciation for Tanya's beauty, which had
taken fucking long enough. She even seduced Rochester, despite her
relatively low opinion of teenage sex presenters, so that she could find
something about Maisie and her older lover, and also as an excuse to hang
around the set of Wasted! This gave her more opportunities to talk to
Emma, even though when the programme was over she would then have to spend
time with this tedious boy and his views on whatever dance fashion was
sweeping the clubs or whatever action movie was dominating the screens.
She liked the fucking. Like most sex presenters, including Tanya, this was
an area in which he undoubtedly excelled. It was the conversation which
tried her patience. But she knew she now had an area of her life which she
shared in kind with Emma.

Gradually, Emma paid more attention to her. And when she confided with
Emma that she didn't really understand her young lover, which was true, she
was a little surprised by how much Emma felt that she agreed. "I don't
know why I love Maisie at all. She splits me apart."

Tanya took Emma's warm hand in hers and sighed sympathetically. "Just
as Rochester splits me apart," she said sadly. Although, of course, even
during anal intercourse, this wasn't nearly something Rochester's penis was
really capable of doing. It was fine: quite long, just a little thin. But
at least he didn't ejaculate too soon like so many other younger lovers.

Tanya discovered that there was a naturist coffee bar not far from the
studio where Emma occasionally went by herself at lunch times, and although
she always thought of all that innocent nude cavorting that naturists were
so keen on rather naff, if not thoroughly contemptible, she knew that this
was the best place to get to talk to Emma away from the Harlot tv studios.
So, one day, when she'd established that this was where Emma had gone, she
went down the iron stairway to the small coffee bar just underneath a
delicatessen. It had the insufferably smug name of Nature Calling and the
staircase was decorated by arty poses of men and women in those outdoor
locations that naturists seemed to like. She knew that her expensive
clothes looked out of place amongst all the jeans and tee-shirts hanging on
the hangars in the cloakroom where she handed them after disrobing. And
she knew that even without clothes, her immaculate make-up, her finely
manicured nails and even the way she walked, so much more natural in a pair
of high-heeled shoes, was also pretty much out of place as she strode
across the ethnic rugs which covered the coffee shop's wooden floor. She
felt stroked by the gaze coming from the eyes of the naked men and women
sitting on their tall stools which followed her imperious tread. Even
though she always considered nudity a step beyond the degree of provocation
she felt necessary to project, at least she didn't look so fucking
ridiculous as so many of the others with their hairy bums, their furry
armpits and unhealthily pale skin. She looked after herself - even in the
places where very few were permitted to view.

Tanya saw Emma sitting in a corner, a cup of cappuccino in one hand with
her head leaning into a newspaper. She was disappointed that Emma hadn't
witnessed her triumphant entry and all the heads turning. Tanya strode to
the counter and ordered herself a cafe macchiato, all the while looking at
her reflection in the mirror behind the short stocky, but still naked, girl who was serving her. Some people shouldn't be allowed to take their
clothes off, Tanya mused focusing on a birthmark on the girl's shoulder as
she was served a cup. She then turned round to see Emma carefully turning
a page of her newspaper. Good! Now to attract her attention. "Cooee!
Emma!" she cried out walking towards her. "What a surprise to see you
here!"

Emma glanced up startled. At first she didn't recognise Tanya. Her own
prejudices about textiles sometimes made it difficult to recognise anyone
as distinct from their clothes. And the clothes Tanya wore were certainly
distinctive, so much so that Emma thought of Tanya as the girl with the
midriff. She always liked that midriff, and recognised that hiding the
crotch and breasts emphasised the contours of the long serpentine length of
her torso very well. But here she was nude. Although somehow not seeming
nude. Even naked, it was clear that she paid extraordinary attention to
her body. Even her crotch was razored short and in the shape of a tiny
heart. It hadn't been dyed the same blonde as the head on her hair though.

"What are you doing here?" Emma wondered, putting down the newspaper,
and leaning forward over the table as Tanya eased herself onto the stool
opposite. "I'd never taken you for a naturist."

Tanya smiled, as her mind raced over the question. "No, I'm not. But
I've often passed this place and wondered what it was like." She stirred
sugar from the sachet into her cup. "And anyway I've always been
sympathetic to the naturist movement, " she lied.

"Really?" wondered Emma with a grin. This really did not seem very
likely to her. "Sympathetic in what way?"

"Well, it's always seemed so ... er ... natural," Tanya replied. "You
know, not wearing clothes and everything. I mean, what could be more
natural than ... erm ... than nudity. Baring everything. Erm. Feeling
nature on the skin." God! This was awful. Change the subject. "So, Emma,
do you live near here?"

Emma started. She'd actually looked forward to a conversation about
naturism, and wasn't sure she was so keen about such a sudden change of
tack. "Not really. Why do you?"

"No, I live in the town centre. Right near the theatre district." Ah
good! A subject she could pursue a bit more fruitfully. "It's very
convenient for seeing plays, shows, films, almost anything. Are you
interested in .. er ... anything like that?"

And so it was in this way that Tanya persuaded Emma to come with her to
see some nude dance production that was on near her. And dull it was too!
No story that she could discern, although the programme gave some kind of a
synopsis. It was just a lot of cavorting performed by a bunch of naked men and women, clearly chosen for their dancing ability rather than for their
looks. The girls were so tiny, with similarly small breasts. And the men all seemed gay to her. She could more easily imagine them fucking each
other than the women they were dancing with. And it was only in her
imagination she could see any fucking. Despite all the bare flesh on
stage, and all the manhandling, there was no sex at all, and the men's
penises remained disappointingly shrivelled. Although quite a few men and
women in the audience were nude like Emma, thankfully she wasn't in the
minority in the designer outfit she wore. At least Emma seemed to like the
show, and she even began to weep at one stage where one of the women
dancers was performing some kind of dance to show her distress at her male
lover leaving her. This was demonstrated by a lot of slumping onto the
ground, throwing herself against other dancers and exaggerated arm
movement. However, she took advantage of Emma's tears to take her hand in
her own and squeeze it comfortingly. Emma smiled at her through her tears,
seemingly grateful for the sympathy that Tanya was expressing.

At long last, the ordeal was over, but not without the tedium of
applauding the cast as they bowed and pirouetted on the stage as the
curtain was drawn and redrawn. Couldn't they just shut up and go home?
Then at last out of the door and into the atrium.

"Oh! It was so sad!" weeped Emma, accepting Tanya's arm around her
shoulder.

Tanya resisted the opportunity to ask exactly how all that nonsense was
meant to be sad, and instead took advantage of Emma's vulnerability to kiss
her full on the mouth. Emma didn't resist, but she seemed somewhat
surprised. "I didn't know you were ...?"

"Were what?"

"Well! Liked other women. I always thought you were..."

"I've always preferred the company of women," lied Tanya who much
preferred a good fucking to anything a woman could do, even with the
assistance of rubber dildos and the like. "Especially a woman as beautiful
as you..."

"But what about Rochester?"

"Rochester?" queried Tanya, thrown off guard. "Oh! Rochester! I don't
know." She lowered her head onto Emma's breast, the better to look upset.
"I just don't think there's any future for us. He tears my heart apart,
but I think he prefers younger women." Tanya knew this was strictly true,
but, in fact, she was beginning to be more than a little annoyed with the
boy's tenacious soppy clinging onto her. Couldn't he just stop after the
fucking, pack his clothes and leave her be, instead of insisting in telling
her how much he loved her, and how she was so much better than all the
other women. She'd already decided, after she'd finally persuaded him to
let her poke his anus with a carrot, that she'd exhausted all that she'd
ever wanted from the boy. "No, I think I prefer you much more to him."

"Is that true?" wondered Emma, seeming almost grateful. Indeed, she'd
come to appreciate Tanya's physical beauty more and more while they were in
the coffee shop, and had herself wondered what it might be like to make
love with her. And this she soon came to find out, when Tanya escorted her
back to her apartment just a couple of blocks away from the theatre. Past
the concierge, up the elevator and then, after very little preparation, the
two of them flung their bodies onto Tanya's large and all-engulfing
mattress and made rather loud and passionate love.

It was actually Tanya who was the most surprised at the lovemaking.
Although she was surrounded by her own possessions, the photographic prints
of film stars, a colour scheme of deep reds, blues and purples, and wading
on the fluffy luxury of her pillows and duvet, she did not feel as much in
control as she normally did. It was Emma who took the lead, bringing Tanya
and herself to spasms of ecstasy that she'd never enjoyed with a woman
before. Her tongue explored every crevice of Tanya's golden skin,
sometimes deep into the pink darkness of her vagina, tenderly activating
her clitoris into a stiffness that none of her male lovers had achieved.
Her fingers probed her arse and vagina, her flesh ground against the sweaty
smoothness of her own. And Tanya was alarmed to find just how rough Emma
could be: a roughness that she recognised in herself but was somehow
reluctant to reciprocate. The pleasure of the licking, combined with the
tugging of teeth on her nipples and labia. The tenderness of the stroking
and caressing, contrasting suddenly with abrupt slaps on her arse and
breasts. The penetration of her anus and vagina by tongue, fingers and
full fist. She shook and shuddered as orgasms spread through her body
expertly orchestrated by her naturist lover.

Tanya wasn't so sure she liked this kind of love. She was used to being
the one in control, but she could see that in matters of lesbian love, she
was very much the novice. Emma had clearly had many many woman lovers and
knew exactly how to ensure that they achieved the most pleasure that they
could. And, of course, unlike men whose sexual abilities rarely stretched
beyond twenty minutes, and in some cases a mere fraction of that, Emma had
the capacity, the willingness, the stamina and the appetite to keep on for
hours, while draining from Tanya almost all the will-power she possessed.

Morning came. The sun shone through the gap in Tanya's curtains and
onto Emma's naked back as she lay fast asleep on the bed. Tanya examined
Emma with a critical eye. There was no doubting Emma's beauty, although
she wasn't that keen on the hairy armpits, the uncropped vagina and the
light hairs on her legs. These bloody naturists! They just didn't have
any idea how so unseemly hirsuteness was. Couldn't she even invest in a
shaver? But then Emma's dress sense was about as ghastly as it could be.
She dressed, when she dressed at all, in the most functional way: one which
would have made the most beautiful woman in the world appear plain

She also decided that this would be the last time she would allow Emma
back to her place at night. After all, she had her own domestic
arrangements to look after, and she didn't appreciate the idea of Emma
being around too often. It had been bad enough with Rochester, although it
had often been quite easy to persuade him to go off to one of the many
night clubs in the area with one of his many teenaged fans. After all, she
had her two live-in lovers in the other bedroom to worry about, and
although they were admirably discreet when Tanya brought her lovers back,
chance meetings in the loo or on the stairs or in the kitchen could not be
ruled out.

Karl and Anthony both contributed to the rent of the flat, which Tanya
appreciated greatly. Especially as their combined contribution easily
exceeded the actual cost of renting the flat, expensive as it was. And
they were both pathetically, stupidly besotted with her. What little
crumbs of lovemaking she let them have was quite sufficient to keep them
gasping for more. They'd not known each other before they found themselves
in the odd position of having to share the same bed together, and only
rarely together with Tanya. And even then, they couldn't be sure that this
would involve any intimacy with the true object of their passion. Although
they weren't at all gay, even really bisexual, she always demanded that
they have sex together while she watched. And she also liked evidence that
they had sex together when she wasn't there. She knew that neither of them
really enjoyed it, and to be honest, watching a man stick his erect penis
deep into another man's arse wasn't really much of a turn-on for her
either. But what she did like was the arbitrary exercise of her power over
them, and their utter obedience to her whims.

The first time she'd got Karl to fuck Anthony had been the best for her.
Anthony was clearly hating every minute as the prick Tanya stimulated to
its full arousal pushed in, inch by painful inch, into Anthony's hairy taut
arse. She loved seeing that expression of sheer agony and disgust on
Anthony's face as he felt the prick go deeper into him than he'd ever
imagined possible, aided by the petroleum jelly but not helped by Karl's
own reluctance. She loved watching the two men nervously suck each other's
cocks. And she insisted they continue until finally (and with a little
assistance from her own manicured fingers) they came in a welcome release
of semen, mingled with guilt, anxiety and sheer revulsion. But she knew
they loved it. The more outrageous the demands she made of them, the more
they seemed to want more. What was it that made people want to surrender
themselves in such a humiliating way to her? Who knew? Who cared? It was
enough to see Karl also being fucked by Anthony and finally to have to lick
the shit from his arse off the dick.

men were so stupid. Almost as stupid as women. She brushed her
clitoris with excitement as she imagined what further humiliation she could
command off the two. She could get Karl to fuck Anthony while masturbating
his dick while Tanya pushed a dildo right up Karl's arse. She loved to see
Karl grind his teeth and squeeze his eyes together, little tears emerging
despite himself at the unfairness of it all. She loved making unreasonable
demands of them, knowing that her two lovers would gladly give everything
for her. And then give again. Until their balls were sore from abuse.
Their arses aching from the pain of penetration. And their eyes stinging
from the semen and urine that would be inflicted on their faces. And of
course it was up to them to clean their shit-, blood-, sperm- and
piss-covered sheets. She would never indulge herself on soiled sheets.
That was one of her many rules.

Emma stirred and looked at her new lover from her recumbent position,
half in and half out of the sheets. Tanya was so beautiful. And so randy.
Look at how she was able to masturbate after all the lovemaking they'd had.
Her long lithe waist. Her cute apple-shaped, apple-sized breasts with
those stiff nipples she'd enjoyed nipping, sucking and chewing. That prim
but perfect vagina, so clearly the object of many previous penetrations but
kept neat and tidy: not falling out from her lips in the way that some sex
stars' vaginas did. How had she deserved such a beautiful woman?. And
such a passionate lover. If it weren't for Maisie, and her deep love for
her, she'd be truly happy. She smiled up at Tanya, who noticed Emma's
stirring and smiled back at her through teeth whiter than teeth should be,
framed by lips which even without lipstick were thick and almost red.

Tanya leaned over Emma and kissed her full on the lips, and stroked her
breasts with her fingers, teasing one of them into a stiffness that she
recognised as a prelude to future passion in the morning sunshine. "It was
good, wasn't it?" Tanya asked, in a voice that had to swallow the real
excitement that, despite herself, she genuinely felt.

"It was perfect!" replied Emma, before planting her tongue full between
Tanya's ivory perfect teeth. "It was absolutely perfect!"

XLIII



At last the day of Josephine and Charlotte's wedding came along. A day
Charlotte had been dreading but looking forward to so much. At last she
could put a seal on the love she felt towards her lover. At last she would
be able to say to the world that Josephine was the one for her, and that it
was her intention to stay with her until death did them part. She was
equally worried about her pregnancy, now so obvious and such an added
burden to her otherwise slim frame. But although biologically the unborn
child couldn't have been Josephine's, she felt that it was spiritually.
The baby for which they had both worked so hard, and which was almost
certainly conceived while Josephine was there in the mass of male and
female flesh of their lovemaking.

Josephine was happy. She dearly loved Charlotte and could imagine no
better lover and companion. But not everyone was as happy as Charlotte and
Josephine. Charlotte's parents were horrified. They refused to even
acknowledge their wedding invitation, something which brought Charlotte to
tears of rage and disappointment. How could they care so little for their
daughter and her happiness? They even refused to meet Josephine, and
neither of the girls had the courage to visit them uninvited. Their
refusal to go was for reasons which brought back to Charlotte bitter
memories of their reaction when she announced to them, first that she was
gay and second that she was a naturist. They believed that same sex
marriages were nothing more than a mockery, that Charlotte's pregnancy
revealed her to be merely a slut who really shouldn't cast a shadow on
their threshold, and that Josephine herself was almost certainly the cause
of their darling daughter's depravity. The fact that it was to be a
naturist wedding was scarcely likely to have added to their enthusiasm to
witness her nuptials.

Josephine's parents, on the other hand, were much more understanding.
Although they had no enthusiasm for their daughter's chosen career and
failed to comprehend what it might be that their darling daughter saw in
another woman, they took the effort to meet Charlotte whose nudity at first
disturbed them, but to which they gradually got accustomed. It was just
another life-style choice they reasoned, and not one that actually caused
anyone any harm. They had great misgivings about going to a naturist
wedding. They were not naturists, and indeed found the whole thing faintly
ridiculous. They were pleased to see that nudity was optional and was
certainly not expected of them. They were assured that great efforts would
be made to ensure that textiles such as they were not going to feel
excluded.

It was also reassuring that it wasn't their daughter who was pregnant,
and that, in respect to their own feelings, Josephine was not going to be
naked herself. In fact, she went into the business of choosing a wedding
dress with an enthusiasm which Charlotte, who was of course excluded from
so doing, found quite curious. She and Susan visited countless shops which
sold matrimonial wear before selecting a relatively modest, faintly golden
wedding dress which they felt suited her. Charlotte restricted herself to
just a veil and a garter. Any more than that and it just wouldn't be
right!

She was filled with trepidation as she waited in the church foyer for
her fiancee to arrive. She felt horribly conscious of her prominent
stomach. Just as much as she felt that marriage was the right thing when a
baby was involved, so too did she feel that gravidity was not really the
appropriate condition for such a solemn occasion. She stood with Emma who
had the role of would give her away to Josephine and who was naturally not
at all self-conscious about her nakedness.

Not that they were the only naked people there. The choir was similarly
nude, as of course was the minister, who wore only the dog-collar which
symbolised his office. Also many, but not most, of their guests were
naked. There was Maisie excitedly chatting by Emma's side, who was as
comfortable as Emma in her nakedness. There was Susan's large-breasted
lover, Rosemary, who was nervously sat next to Amna and her bizarrely
tattooed friend. Rosemary was naked and very much aware of the attention
her enormous breasts attracted, whether she crossed her arms over her
breasts or under them. Amna and Fluff were also naked, although both of
them had chosen to wear large hats which had the advantage in Fluff's case
of obscuring her vulgar facial tattoo. Much as Charlotte enjoyed men's
penises, and had enjoyed more than a few on her hen-night several nights
ago, she felt that erect penises were not really appropriate in a church;
even a naturist one. Next to the two girls were Salim and Fatima covered
by their chadors. There was Enid, also naked, sitting by the clothed
figures of Edward and Hyacinth. And several naked figures from work. And
also the stunningly well-dressed, if slightly haughty figure of Tanya, a
woman who Emma had insisted on inviting, and who Charlotte knew was playing
a bigger role in her best friend's life. There was also Harriet who'd
hurried back from an engagement in Ottawa to be there with her lover.

And then, finally, and sending Charlotte's heart into a frenzy of
activity, arrived Josephine escorted by the naked figure of Susan.
Although Josephine's dress felt slightly out of place in a naturist church,
Charlotte had to admit that it did suit her very well. As always,
Josephine displayed excellent restraint and taste in her choice. Susan
handed Josephine over to Charlotte, who, as she took her lover's hand in
hers, was aware of how much she was also nervous and sweating from the
excitement and anticipation of this the day which would seal their love
forever.

The two of them hadn't made love together since their hen-night, which
had been a full orgy to which they'd invited all their friends and a number
of willing men (one of which was more than likely the real father of their
child). Charlotte enjoyed all the fucking, though she doubted it was as
much appreciated by her unborn child whose first kicks she'd felt during a
particularly frenetic session with three, or was it four, lovers. And she
kept her eyes on her dear Josephine who also enjoyed her own heterosexual
coupling under Emma's faintly disapproving eye. Since that day, as
tradition demanded, she'd not seen Josephine and had only spoken to her,
and then at length, over the phone. Charlotte invited Emma to stay in the
flat which had once been Emma's as well and came to enjoy several nights of
passion with the woman who would always remain her best friend, even though
one, she was now resigned to admitting, who could never displace Josephine
in her affections. Her lover had been staying with Susan, and she was sure
that the two of them had also enjoyed many hours of lovemaking together,
almost certainly together with Susan's bizarrely proportioned girlfriend.

The wedding was a suitably solemn affair treated with appropriate
respect by the minister who, in Charlotte's and Josephine's earlier
conversations, had shown rather more concern for the girls' souls than for
the rightness or otherwise of same sex weddings and Charlotte's pregnancy.
Both girls promised to come to the church more often and to read the Bible.
Charlotte was very nervous and still quite unhappy that her parents weren't
there to lend their assent. It was with some difficulty that Josephine
squeezed the ring onto Charlotte's finger which had slightly swollen in her
anxiety. But it was soon in place, the solemn vows made and the registry
signed.

And then onto the reception which Susan and Emma had organised. There
were the speeches, the food and a selection of jazz and dance music laid on
by some of Emma's colleagues from Harlot TV. Josephine's father had
decided after all his doubts and after a great deal of encouragement from
her daughter to give a brief speech in which he wished the couple well. He
hinted only obliquely that this had not really been the sort of marriage
he'd expected for his bisexual daughter. Other speeches came from friends
and colleagues, including Emma whose speech was the most professionally
delivered and the most heartfelt. Soon both Charlotte and Josephine were
slightly tipsy from all the champagne and very full from the delightful
spread that Susan had organised and paid for. Susan had opted not to give
a speech, and Charlotte was quite concerned at one stage to see her burst
into tears and lean on Rosemary for comfort and consolation.

Then, the two girls were whisked off to the hotel where they were to
stay for the next few days. It wasn't very far away, as Charlotte was
concerned about how travel, particularly air travel, would affect her
pregnancy. As they left, Charlotte kissed her friends and Josephine's
parents goodbye, glad that despite the lack of approval from her own
parents that her marriage was at least given credence by some people in
what she considered to be her new family. Was she Josephine's wife or her
husband? she wondered as the taxi drove them through the city streets.
Even the question of surnames had caused some debate in her mind: solved
ultimately by them each adopting the other's surname in addition to their
own.

The honeymoon suite was on the top floor of the plush hotel with a view
over the city parks and relatively quiet despite the heavy traffic outside
thanks to the very high quality double glazing. Charlotte sank backwards
onto the large heart-shaped bed, her swollen stomach protruding high above
and the weight of her gravidity exhausting her.

"At last!" she said to Josephine. "Alone together!"

Josephine smiled as she removed her clothes and stood naked in front of
Charlotte at the end of the bed. Her nipples were raised in anticipation
and the sheen of her skin betrayed her excitement. "I've enjoyed this day
so much!" she sobbed. "I never thought I would. But all the love I felt
from everyone and from you... Oh Charlotte! What have I done to deserve a
lover, a partner, a soulmate as beautiful, clever and oh! so loving as
you?"

She pulled herself onto the bed and crawled towards Charlotte. She
placed her hands on Charlotte's large stomach, admiring her lover's breasts which were swollen as they prepared themselves for lactation, the nipples
larger and fuller than ever before, and the mounted welcomingness of her
vagina! She moved her head down between Charlotte's legs, her hair tracing
itself delicately over her lover's thighs and the base of her swelling
stomach. A menage à trois of sorts, she mused, thinking of the hidden third presence inside Charlotte who very occasionally and just as
unpredictably announced its presence, but had been remarkably quiet on
this, so special day.

Her tongue probed Charlotte's vulva which her lover had taken to shaving
again in preparation, she said, for her forthcoming childbirth. It was so
beautiful to run her tongue over such smooth skin which emphasised the
beauty of her lover's vagina which despite its very many penetrations had
not unfolded itself into a mass of protruding folds like an overripe fig.
The clitoris tasted so sweet. The inner lips smelt so strong and
overpowering. A rich odour which excited Josephine as she rubbed her own
clitoris with one hand, while the fingers of the other probed lovingly in
the tighter grip of Charlotte's anus. She gasped with reciprocal pleasure
as she brought her lover to one of her so reliable orgasms as they wallowed
together on the mass of the bed.

"Oh I love you so much!" declared Josephine. "And you're mine! All
mine!" And then she smiled wickedly at her lover. "But not completely..."

Charlotte looked slightly alarmed. "What do you mean? Is there someone
else?"

"Tonight yes," Josephine announced, sharply clapping her hands.

And then on cue three naked men who Josephine had invited emerged from
the bathroom where they'd been hiding. They all sported firm and proud
erections which they had been stimulating while watching Josephine prepare
her lover. Charlotte smiled with delight.

"Oh Josephine!" she cried with gratitude. "You needn't have! We no
longer have to share our love with anyone else."

"There is a love I can never give fully," Josephine admitted, as the men crawled onto the bed and surrounded her gravid lover. Their tongues and
hands tenderly stroked her stomach, breasts and thighs, expressing their
appreciation with small grunts and the slightest panting of excitement.
Josephine crawled up towards her life partner's face and kissed her full in
the mouth, as the men prepared to service her.

And so it was a wedding night to remember, and heard down the long hotel
corridor as Charlotte's cries of ecstasy rang out. The men were gentle, as
they had to be regarding Charlotte's state, but nonetheless didn't neglect
their duties towards satisfying the wedded couple from the back and the
front. A mass of naked groping flesh: one fifth black and one fifth brown.
One stood up and fucked Charlotte while Josephine was fucked by another,
her tongue still twisted around Charlotte's own, deep in her lover's mouth.
The fifth took Josephine from behind, awkwardly balancing himself on the
edge of the bed, holding onto the girls for stability.

The night was long and passionate, sweaty and smelly, and only
Charlotte's advanced state of pregnancy prevented it going on forever,
though had the appetite for more impassioned lovemaking while the subject
of her wedlock dozed on the sheet beside her, a broad and satisfied grin on
her face.

Finally, Josephine was satisfied, and she silently signalled that the
men should leave, despite the persistent erection one of them still had.
They quietly gathered their clothes, while Josephine stretched out next to
her lover. As the door closed behind the men, she tenderly kissed
Charlotte on the forehead, gently pushing aside the damp hair which clung
to her flesh. She examined her lover's peaceful expression. The eyes were
closed, and her breathing was steady and even. Her stomach gently rose and
fell with each breath: holding within a secret treasure which Josephine had
sworn to love; knowing that Charlotte viewed it as the greatest gift she
could give her lover. It may have none of her genes, Josephine mused, but
it would have all of her love.

She leaned over to turn off the lights in the room, and lay in the
darkened room illuminated only by the stars from behind the curtain. She
contemplated the contours of her lover's body, and felt a swelling of
impassioned love let itself loose from her own chest, quickening her heart
and making her feel ever so slightly weak. She'd never known love like
this before. And, indeed, she'd once felt that such romantic feelings were
forever denied her, despite all the sex and passion. But they were there
now, and filled her with a deep and satisfying glow, which she was certain
lit her up as keenly as the warmth of a coal fire.

XLIV



Amna was aware that her family was more than a little discomfited by the
changes in her appearance, though she made every effort when she visited
them to dress in a way that wouldn't alarm them. But no matter how plain
the clothes she wore (and these days it was quite difficult for her to
dress especially plainly), nothing could disguise how much fuller her bust
now was, nor how her face had changed so much. It must have puzzled them,
but she was sure they attributed it to the changes that happened to any
growing girl. It was good that they had no opportunity to see her shaved
vagina, her pierced nipples or her tattoos. Then they might really worry
about the wisdom of letting their eldest daughter stay with Aunt Salim.
Her parents only asked her the most banal questions about her life,
convinced that her newfound wealth was gained through honest toil in the
office. Her brothers were too confused by their own physical changes
brought about by adolescence to make any judgment about their sister's own
changes.

Her younger sister Dalitha was also growing older. breasts were
beginning to swell beneath her school jumper and blouse, and her figure was
fast seeming ill-suited to the clothes of her youth. Inevitably she was
more curious about the changes that were happening to her sister. "Will I
have boobies like yours?" she asked naïvely. "Will my bum stick out like
that?" Amna loved her sister too much to mislead her, so when the moment
seemed right, as they walked through the park with their parents' pet
labrador, she explained as best she could what plastic surgery meant, and
what it did to a girl. "But don't tell Mum and Dad. I don't think they'll
approve."

However, conversation soon strayed and Amna found herself confessing to
her love affair with Fluff, her relationship with Auntie Salim and her
friend Fatima, and, of course, about all the men in her life. "But I much
prefer Fluff. She's really lush." Amna was so used to her current
life-style that she'd forgotten how very strange and exotic it seemed to
her sister. Dalitha's eyes widened and her tongue licked across her thin
lips.

"Your life is so exciting!" she gasped. "What's it like having sex?
Does it hurt? And do men's willies really get very stiff? My life's so
boring. I wish I had a life like yours."

Amna sighed, as the labrador chased after some leaves across the grass,
excited by the smells and sights of the city park. "Men are like dogs,"
she said, observing the labrador sniff the rear end of a collie. "They
just want one thing. And when they're finished, they just run off to find
someone else to fuck ... to make love with. Women are much better. Fluff
is so lovely in bed. And so beautiful. She's got the tenderest cunt ...
personality in the world. And Auntie Salim's alright too, if a bit
boring."

"It sounds wonderful," giggled Dalitha excitedly. "Ooh! I'd just love
to have sex with a woman if it sounds so good. Do any women have willies?"

Amna blushed, thinking of the strap-on dildo she had chosen not to wear
when visiting her family. "Not as such," she admitted.

Dalitha was a growing girl and was now working part-time in their
parents' shop, so she had her own small income. She was insistent with her
pleading that she be allowed to visit Amna at Auntie Salim's house. It was
difficult for Amna to resist. She and her sister had so many happy shared
memories together over the years of their childhood together. And she was
such a pretty girl. How could anyone resist her? She was shorter than
Amna, and also slenderer. Her skin was equally as dark and like her sister dark fur grew on her cheeks and arms. She had a very sweet toothy smile.
Her long straight hair fanned over her shoulders and fell into her large
dark brown eyes. Amna eventually gave in, forcing her sister to swear on
the Koran that she wouldn't say anything about her life to anyone. "Not
even your best friend at school."

Dalitha frowned. She'd already made hints of this to Khadija and had
been looking forward to providing more full and detailed accounts of her
older sister's exciting life, but she saw the wisdom of Amna's advice. She
was a good girl, and she'd never do anything to upset her sister.

Auntie Salim made Dalitha very welcome when she visited, although it was
clear that the young girl was finding it all rather boring. Why was her
aunt dressed with a scarf and long dress? Amna said that she was usually
nude. And Amna wasn't dressed very sexily either. Her sister's jeans and
baggy tee-shirt were not the outrageous clothes that Amna had confessed to
wear most often. They sat together around the television eating the small
snacks that Salim had prepared, talking about school and how business was
at her parents' shop. This wasn't what Dalitha's adolescent fantasising
had made her hope for. All that rubbing her breasts and easing her fingers
into her crack had not been expended in fantasies of this! Perhaps Amna
had been lying. Showing off. She was glad now she'd not told Khadija or
Tabitha more of what her sister had said. She was already rehearsing how
she'd relate the evening. Grown-ups were so boring!

However, all that changed when Fluff arrived. Unlike Amna and Salim,
she was hiding none of her usual lack of constraint. She wore a sleeveless
leather jacket, with her breasts bare beneath and a very tight very short
skirt which so readily revealed that she wore no knickers underneath. And,
of course, her face! Dalitha had seen pictures of erect penises in the
magazines in her parents' shop and she'd even once seen an erect penis
which some horrid man had shown off to her while she was walking home from
school. But she'd never seen one tattooed so blatantly across anyone's
face! So, Amna had been right to say that Fluff was a cock-fancier.

Dalitha was introduced to Fluff by Salim who was clearly rather less
keen on her than Amna whose face brightened up quite perceptibly. "Fuck
me! Your sister's not bad, is she?" Fluff exclaimed. "Pretty. Like you,
Amna sweetest!"

And then, with virtually no prelude and with hardly time for Salim to
complain, Fluff was on Amna, kissing her on the face and holding her
tightly to her body. "Fuck, Amna! Get this fucking prep gear off. You
look like a fucking college girl!"

Dalitha was astonished enough by the language which her parents had
mostly sheltered her from, and she'd mostly only heard in the school
playground. She was even more astonished as Fluff pulled off her jacket
and skirt to stand naked in front of Amna. And even more tattoos. And
weren't the nipples pierced too! And the tattoos! Just looking at them
made Dalitha feel excited in a way that rather frightened her. All those
stiff willies. And some of them had sort of creamy stuff coming out of
them! Was this really what grown-up women could get up to.

"Really, Fluff! In front of Amna's sister!" protested Salim impotently,
as Fluff tore off her lover's clothes. But to no avail. All too soon,
Dalitha was treated to the fulsome and disturbing sight of her surgically
enhanced sister without the encumbrance of clothing. And her sister had a
tattoo on her arm as well, but not one of an erect penis. And then in
front of her slightly horrified gaze, her sister and Fluff took themselves
onto the sofa and began groping together while Salim stood by, not knowing
what to do confronted with this flagrant display of exhibitionism. One
body black, breasty and full. The other slim, white and splattered with
the weirdest display of the tattooist's art that Dalitha could ever
envisage. And the things they were doing to each other! Those tongues in
the private bits. And in each other's mouth. Fingers probing everywhere.
The strange overpowering animal smell. The glistening sweat on each of the
girls' bodies. So, this was what sex was like! It was both like and
unlike what Dalitha had imagined. Certainly she'd known from the pictures
what two girls in the buff wrapped around each other would look like. But
she hadn't really envisaged its physicality, its sweatiness and it
smelliness. And the gasping, grunting, whining, moaning sounds. And then
after she didn't know how long she'd sat in awe on the armchair, the
television still babbling on about local news affairs and Auntie Salim
still standing transfixed and miserable by the mantelpiece, it all came to
a slow end, as both Fluff and Amna finished off with a chorus of cries and
then collapsed onto the sofa together.

"Well, I hope you're both thoroughly ashamed of yourselves," Salim
admonished the girls. "In front of young Dalitha."

"Oh fuck off!" said Fluff contemptuously. "I'll do just what I fucking
like! If I want to fuck Amna then that's just what I'll fucking do."

The rest of the evening was more sedate, although Fluff and Amna
remained naked with their arms entwined round each other. Their clothes
were left in an untidy heap on the carpet, and it was up to Salim to pick
them up, fold them and place them tidily on another chair. Something which
she did to Fluff's clothes with rather more disdain than she did Amna's.
Fluff was entertaining company though, shocking Salim and amusing Dalitha
with stories of her recent sex conquests, while Amna occasionally kissed
and petted her. Eventually, Fluff departed to see some man whom she'd
arranged to see earlier, and left a rather embarrassed Salim and the still
naked figure of Amna. Salim scolded her niece and then busied herself in
the kitchen while Dalitha excitedly talked to her sister about her strange
girlfriend. And then, of course, she was driven home by Auntie Salim,
while the still naked Amna sat in front of the television watching some sex
soap opera on one of the cable sex channels that her parents did not
subscribe to.

This was not the last visit that Dalitha made to Aunt Salim's apartment.
Indeed, it was the first of many regular visits. Amna, however, no longer
made any effort to dress any differently when her sister visited, if she
made any effort to dress at all. Aunt Salim, on the other hand, was
clearly embarrassed by her niece's semi-nudity or even full nudity, but she
had clearly abandoned all attempt to restrain her from dressing as she
wished, although she herself dressed as before, with a scarf hiding her
hair and a dress that hid most of her body. Nevertheless, the visits did
not normally involve seeing Amna having sex with Fluff or anyone else. The
three of them would watch television and sometimes Dalitha would rest in
Amna's room where they would listen to her older sister's records and flick
through her magazines.

She also met Fatima who dressed no differently to her aunt, and was
equally as polite and restrained: indulging in none of the sexual practices
that Amna had said she often did. However, she was still fun company and
was clearly very fond of her sister. She made no mention of her
professional relations with Amna and kept the conversation well clear of
such matters.

Fluff was quite different whenever she visited, which was not
frequently. Her visits, however, were always unannounced and always
involved sex with her sister. Dalitha was not sure of the strange feelings
erupting inside her as she watched her sister and her lover together
indulging in the passionate love that was so sweaty, so unrestrained and so
physical. There was a strange warmth emanating from between her legs and
she was sometimes short of breath, as the bodies enmeshed on the floor, on
the sofa, against the wall and even in the bed. Aunt Salim stayed within
sight, watching the two lovers not with Dalitha's curiosity and wonderment,
but more with an expression of disgust mixed with a kind of sadness.

"Fuck, Salim!" remarked Fluff, Amna's strap-on dildo deep inside her and
her shaved head pressed against the back of the sofa. "Why don't you join
in, instead of just watching like that?"

Salim shook her head sadly, but made no comment.

"And you, Dalitha? Don't you want to join in?"

Dalitha gasped, conscious of a sudden tightening of her chest. Could
she? Was it right? With her sister?

"Well, at least have a feel of what it's like," Fluff commanded, placing
a hand on the dildo and holding Amna still with her other hand. "Come here
and touch it!"

Dalitha looked at her Aunt Salim through startled eyes. Her aunt shook
her head disapprovingly. She returned her gaze to her sister, who smiled
mischievously. "It won't do any harm just to touch," she said with a
smile.

Dalitha walked up to her sister and gingerly put her hand forward to
where the dark rubber met Fluff's nicely trimmed vagina. She tenderly
placed a hand on one side of it. It was strangely warm and very sticky. A
small warm trickle of vaginal juice flowed down onto her thumb. Dalitha
lowered her hand down the length of the dildo and felt the brush of warm,
hard flesh where the dildo penetrated Fluff, the folds of the vulva
erupting like the petals of a peculiarly pink flower on either side. She
was both horrified and fascinated by the details of Fluff's vagina. All
those folds! All those crevices between the thick flesh! And the contrast
of such detail with the smooth uninterrupted contours of her stomach and
the small hard breasts above. She voiced a strangulated gasp, and
frightened by the strong feelings that tightened her own chest, she
hurriedly removed her hand and stood back.

"Good, isn't it?" said Fluff with an amused smile, as Amna recommenced
her steady rhythmic thrusts in and out of her vagina. "And it's much
better to be doing it than watching it!"

Dalitha stood back. What was she thinking? She ran over to Aunt Salim
by the mantelpiece and without thinking grasped her aunt's hand. She
watched as her sister and her lover became more and more physical, and the
thrusting became fiercer and fiercer. Clearly her brief intercession in
their lovemaking had stimulated the two girls to even more ferocity and
passion. Aunt Salim seemed a little startled by Dalitha's gesture, but she
didn't relinquish her niece's hand, although she did nothing to encourage
it.

And soon Fluff and Amna were finished. In the postcoital pause that
followed, Dalitha let go of her aunt's hand, aware of what it might seem to
suggest, and embarrassedly sat down on the sofa. Amna smiled strangely as
her sister positioned herself, her arms clasped between the legs of her
jeans and a bright red blush spread over her face. No comment was made of
what had happened, even from Fluff, who as usual left to meet another of
her many male lovers. The rest of the evening was spent innocently enough,
watching the television, with Amna fully naked except for the grotesque
black dildo which dangled awkwardly between her legs and still shimmered
from the traces of Fluff's vaginal orgasm.

It was perhaps inevitable that the next time that Dalitha visited her
aunt's flat, it was a different occasion to all those that had come before.
Dalitha herself had half- expected it to be different, although she had
shied away from any coherent thought of how different it might be. The
memory of her close encounter with Fluff's vagina remained with her;
seemed, in fact, to be imprinted on the tips of her fingers where they had
touched her. The memory of that droplet of vaginal juice still seemed
sticky on her fingers. Her nights were spent in lonely agonised
masturbation, not focused on anything specific but bringing her to gasps
which she hoped her parents hadn't heard and a hot sweat that she hoped
would go before the morning.

When she went up to the flat, after ringing the doorbell, she found Amna
sitting naked on the sofa next to her aunt who, for the first time, was not
wearing a scarf over her hair. Nor, for that matter, her long dark dress.
Unlike Amna, she wasn't naked. She was wearing red silk lingerie which
revealed to Dalitha for the first time that her aunt was really quite
attractive. Aunt Salim's body was clearly a woman's body, and not at all
like a girl's. Her breasts were full, the thighs and hips were also more
full, and her arms had a womanly plumpness and none of the girlish slimness
of her sister's arms. She still looked a little awkward, however, and
somewhat embarrassed.

Dalitha sat down on the chair that had almost become her own, settling
into the familiar cushions, aware that the television was off and that the
stereo was playing some soft ambient jazz music. She smiled awkwardly at
her sister and her aunt. "Aren't we watching Homefield Grove?" she asked,
aware that this was the time the soap opera normally began.

Amna smiled broadly, ignored her question. "Why don't you take off your
clothes?" she asked quietly.

"What!" gasped Dalitha. "I couldn't ..."

"Don't be silly. You know you'd feel more comfortable if you did. And
anyway I don't wear any, do I?"

"I'm not sure that..." Dalitha began, but nevertheless surrendered to
her sister's request. She pulled off the tee-shirt she wore with its
picture of the boy band In Tune. It eased off over her shoulders and she
pulled her arms through its elbow- length sleeves. She then unstrapped her
bra so her rounded, still forming breasts were revealed: the nipples puffed
up a slightly darker brown than the rest of her breasts. And then she
hooked her thumbs into the waist of her shorts, pulling them over her slim
legs and over her trainers. She sat there wearing just her frilly cotton
knickers and her air-soled trainers glancing up at Amna and Aunt Salim.
Amna gestured impatiently that Dalitha remove these last vestiges, which
Dalitha did: starting with the trainers, which she placed neatly by the
pile of clothes she'd already removed, and then with a blush which gave a
shine to her face and chest, she removed her knickers to reveal the smooth
hair which had spread over her crotch and the vaginal crack which pursed
inwards rather than out like her sister's.

Amna smiled, and then without a word unstrapped Aunt Salim's own bra
from behind, revealing two very round apple-shaped but still womanly
breasts: the nipples large in a deep aurora of a darker brown than the rest
of her light brown freckled skin. She kissed her aunt tenderly on the
cheek. "What do you think of Aunt Sally? Don't you think she's
beautiful?"

Salim blushed visibly and smiled despite herself. Dalitha sighed.
"She's very pretty," she ventured.

"And not just here!" announced Amna. Salim stood up shyly and removed
her own knickers, pulling them down over her long slender legs and
revealing a very neat vagina, almost as beautiful as Fluff's but without
any of the folds that hung from Amna's lover's crotch. The hair was thick,
but smooth, sparser than Dalitha's own, forming an almost perfect triangle
so much darker than her golden brown flesh.

Dalitha gasped, but sat paralysed. She felt her skin tighten around her
face and the nipples on her breasts were hardening. "She's very pretty,"
she repeated. "Very pretty!"

"Have a feel," offered Amna standing up by her aunt and wrapping an arm
around her. "Don't be afraid. Aunt Sally is very gentle."

Dalitha knew that Amna and her aunt made love together, but it had never
occurred to her that she might also get to know her in that way.
Nervously, she stood up and walked over to Salim. Her aunt leaned down to
her smaller niece and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. Dalitha gasped.
Unsure of what to do, she put her arms around her aunt, just below her
shoulders, leaned her head up, and then kissed her aunt back in return.

Gradually, bit by bit, the awkward fumblings became less awkward, the
kisses became more passionate. As the two girls became more intimate,
Dalitha couldn't help wondering why this was happening. Was it just that
her aunt found her attractive? Was it that her aunt loved her? Or was it,
as she came to believe more firmly, from the odd verbal encouragement from
her sister that this encounter was engineered by Amna. And had her aunt
agreed because it seemed the lesser of two evils? And if so, what was the
other evil? Her mind flashed back to her brief encounter with Fluff's
flesh, and it seemed clear to her, while all else began to lose focus as
her tongue encircled Aunt Salim's nipples while her aunt ran her long
fingers up and down her slim back. It had either been Aunt Salim or Fluff.
And in this way, her aunt was in some sense protecting her.

"So beautiful! And so tasty!" said Amna encouragingly as Salim and
Dalitha lay on the sofa, guiding her sister down to Salim's vagina as
Dalitha's tongue probed the tight contours of her aunt's belly button.
Indeed, it did taste strange. And the smell was so overpowering. And then
her aunt swivelled round, above her, and she felt the muscular moistness of
a tongue probe her own crotch. And then around her tiny clitoris. A
tremor of pleasure shook her body, followed by another. And then another.
Her crotch shook violently. And then that tongue probed deeper into her,
deeper than anything except her own fingers had ever been before.

And soon Dalitha was in Salim's bed. Amna left them, content that her
role in this exchange was complete, and Dalitha was in a delirium of
pleasure and ecstasy, orchestrated and excited by her aunt, who nonetheless
ensured that only her tongue and none of her fingers violated her own
vagina. Her nipples were damp with sweat and saliva, her mouth retained
the taste of Salim's mouth and the faint odour of herbs and spices, her
taut young buttocks pressed against the silk sheets. She looked at Salim.
Do I love you? she asked as she looked up at the vagina above her face,
her tongue aching from the effort of licking that tender acid-smelling
receptacle. Is it love I feel? She spasmed again, uncertain of the
feelings and emotions that erupted inside her. If this is love, it's not
as I expected it? So animal. So physical. And she loved the taste of
Salim's skin. Salty and sweet. The curves of those thighs. The folds of
the vagina. That freckled brown face, and the dark pupils in the bright
eyes. And the hair with such a strange smell of its own as it fell onto
her face and entangled with her own hair.

And in all this, Salim was strangely quiet. Her own thoughts were a
confusion of lust, desire and guilt. At least, she thought, this kept her
darling niece away from that disgusting Fluff. And yes, she did enjoy it.
It was almost like the love she used to know from her darling Amna before
she'd been corrupted by all her sex film friends. It was the innocent,
non-penetrative love she'd enjoyed so much before. She felt some guilt and
remorse from reflecting on how young her niece was, but it wasn't her youth
that attracted her to Dalitha. It was perhaps her innocence. Or was it
the beauty of those slender thighs, those large reflective eyes. The
smooth dark skin, hairy as it was beginning to be, still unshaven under the
arms, and tasting sweeter than even Amna.

It worried her slightly where all this would lead. What would happen
next? Was this where Amna's demands on her lovemaking with her sister end?
But undeniably, it had resolved some of that strong feeling that had
exploded inside her when Dalitha held her hand while they watched Amna and
Fluff at play. That explosion of emotion and lust that both Amna and Fluff
had noticed and which Amna had so mercilessly exploited. But was it wrong?
Was this a sin?

Hardly, she mused, her teeth and lips nibbling gently on Dalitha's
clitoris, feeling her niece's ecstatic spasms. How could something so
beautiful, so wonderful, be sinful? Surely Allah would know that this was
no sin, and in any case, being between women and within the sacred confines
of family, how could this ever be seen as anything other than the purest of
love.

XLV





Emma was delighted that Tanya had become a frequent visitor to her
suburban home. She had come to love Tanya's body, although she wasn't so
sure how well she loved or even knew Tanya's mind. But there was nothing
about her that seemed anything other than the perfect lover: always devoted
to her, passionate in bed, and the only person outside of work with whom
she could discuss her job. She hadn't realised just how much difference it
made to have someone to talk to who was as passionate and informed about
television management and programme production as Tanya was. She bubbled
with so many good ideas, and Emma was pleased to do whatever she could to
help further the television career of someone who she had come to view as
her protege. She spoke to producers and other executives about Tanya's
beauty and her television presentation skills, based, she was sure, not
just on her affection for the girl but also on an objective appraisal of
her abilities from the many times she'd watched her in the Harlot tv studios. She was aware that her reputation for quality production and her
famous naturist and vegetarian credentials gave her judgment rather more
weight than the opinion of many others.

While Emma did what she could to further Tanya's career, her lover
seemed not only incredibly grateful (expressing her gratitude for each new
appointment or pay rise with the most passionate lovemaking), but she never
seemed satisfied. On the one hand she expressed the opinion that Emma was
seeing too much in her modest talent, and that she really did not deserve
her good fortune. On the other hand, it was invariably Tanya who would put
the seeds in Emma's mind of another area in the Harlot tv hierarchy of
presenters where her skills could be even better used. Emma loved helping
Tanya's career. And she loved the rewards she gained from her assistance
when the two of them retreated to Emma's large bed and she could enjoy once
again that slender frame, the perfect torso and the skills of a lover who
nonetheless was carefully not to indulge in any of Emma's rougher sexual
practices.

"I don't want to appear in front of the camera covered in bruises," she
explained. "That would be most unprofessional. As I'm sure you agree."

Emma agreed sadly, but the quality of the other sex they enjoyed
together was passionate and raw enough, tiring her out and leaving her
waking up every morning with the sweet smell of sweat and vaginal
discharge. Sex with Tanya was addictive, and Emma was addicted.

Emma was concerned about how Maisie would view her new lover. She spoke
to Maisie about it on one of those several nights in the week when Maisie
was at home and Tanya was elsewhere. She reminded Maisie of her own sex
life away from Emma with her own other boyfriends and girlfriends, not to
mention the sex she so often enjoyed in front of the camera. She was
secretly pleased but also worried by Maisie's brief show of jealousy. It
was satisfying that her young lover was still so desirous of her, and
enjoyed the passionate lovemaking that followed their discussion as she
reassured the girl that her love for her was in no way displaced by her
love for the older woman, however beautiful she was.

She expressed her concerns about Maisie to Tanya and was pleased when
her older lover suggested that the three of them should make love together
as a means of ensuring that Maisie would not become more jealous and see
her as some kind of a rival for Emma's love. "After all, it's clear to me
that although you are first in my affections, she is first in yours. And I
wouldn't like to be responsible, however unintentionally, in any lessening
of her love for you."

And so it was that Tanya and Emma invited Maisie to make love as a
threesome in Emma's bed. Maisie readily agreed. She enjoyed her
conversations with Tanya, and had heard from Rochester what a good lover
she was. In fact, she knew that Rochester was still depressed about Tanya
leaving him for Emma, which actually made her feel the more keen to get to
know Tanya better. She found Emma's other lover very beautiful, and of
course she'd become quite accustomed to seeing her naked around the house.
She knew that Tanya was not really a naturist, but she was aware that Emma
preferred nudity in the home. Maisie loved the sight of Tanya's trimmed
vagina, the long slim legs and the way she would sit on the sofa, a broad
toothy smile on her face as she listened to Maisie talking about the pop
groups she listened to, the films she watched and the other people she
worked with. In fact, Tanya seemed tremendously knowledgeable about
teenage interests for such an older woman, but Maisie reckoned that was
almost certainly a result of her relationship with Rochester. In fact,
even though it was Tanya and not the boy who had brought the relationship
to an end, she was curiously solicitous as to his welfare and was
remarkably sympathetic about his apparent heartbreak.

As all three girls were already naked, there was very little prelude to
the girls' first lovemaking together. Maisie was escorted between the two
older, taller women, an arm from each around her shoulders and around each
others', and her arms around their waists. And then into the tastefully
restrained decor of Emma's bedroom, onto the large bed where Emma and she
had spent so many nights together, her arms around Emma, and Emma's tongue
between her legs. Maisie lay down, slightly nervously, as she always was
when she was about to make love with someone new and different, and enjoyed
the attention of the two older women as they stroked and kissed her, their
show of affection for her punctuated by displays of love towards each
other. Emma's mouth opened with a slight gasp and plunged her lips onto
Tanya's lips, while her hands traced Maisie's small, not yet fully grown,
breasts. And then the mouth transferred itself to her own crotch, while
Tanya's tongue entered Maisie's mouth. It tasted so sweet, the teeth
nibbled gently on her tongue and lips and her body shivered with the
massaging of four hands as they trailed around her thighs, round her
buttocks, around her back.

Bit by bit, the lovemaking became more intense. Maisie began
reciprocating the love shown her with more passion. Her tongue licked the
smooth folds of Tanya's vagina, while her eyes explored the gorgeous
contours and the evenly tanned flesh of Emma's older lover. Meanwhile, two
tongues and two pairs of lips explored and probed her own vagina and anus.
And then fingers entered and explored, while Maisie pushed in as many
fingers as she dared into the forbiddingly perfect orifices of Tanya's
lower regions. And, inevitably, spasms and tremors of orgasmic pleasure
rose and crashed and rose again, as the passion became ever more urgent,
ever more daring and ever hotter and sweatier.

From then on, those evenings when both Tanya and Maisie were at home
became nights when with Emma the three girls enjoyed nights of passion
which both Emma and Maisie found they came to enjoy more than those nights
when there were just the two of them. Indeed, for Emma, sex with Maisie
had actually become more frequent now that Tanya was around. She almost
felt guilty on those nights when Maisie was visiting her friends or staying
with her mother, and on which occasions only she and Tanya made love
together. It was those nights, however, when Tanya and she would talk
about Tanya's career and how, with Emma's help she was getting more
responsible and lucrative production roles and taking a more starring role
in the television shows she co-hosted, or was even the sole presenter.
Emma felt proud of her role as Tanya's mentor, although she guessed that
other presenters and producers on Harlot TV, no doubt equally as talented,
resented Emma's part in Tanya's career tangent.

However, Emma needn't have felt guilty about Maisie's absence from these
nights of passion. Tanya had taken to watching Emma's younger lover at
work, as Maisie was pleased to see. She always preferred it when someone
who loved her took a direct interest in her work. The sex on screen was
always the more passionate, her sexual techniques the sharper, knowing that
either Emma or Tanya were in the wings watching her.

After one show, as Maisie left the studio, wiping the rich smelling
cream of semen from her chin and lips, she was surprised to see Tanya
waiting for her just outside her dressing room. Normally, Tanya kept a
discreet distance, perhaps waving at her or smiling encouragingly, but not
normally to be found in the areas reserved for the stars. She ran up to
Tanya, crumbs of semen baked on the back of her hands, and kissed her lover
full on the lips. "What did you think of my performance? Jimmy Ratchet
was great, wasn't he? I just didn't know I could get so much dick in my
mouth!"

Tanya trailed a hand over Maisie's bare shoulder and an arm around her
waist. She smiled at Maisie. "Just looking at you made me feel hot!" she
said uncharacteristically. "That's why I thought I'd wait for you here."

"Really!?" exclaimed Maisie. She knew that Tanya was a good lover, but
she'd never thought that she actually loved her. She always thought that
it was only because of Emma that she and Tanya ever enjoyed making love
together. She studied Tanya's trim figure: the waist as always uncovered
from marginally below the hips up to just above the heave of her
apple-shaped breasts. Those classic curves! That clear golden skin! And
the smile: teeth so white, eyes so libidinous (if faintly calculating), and
the cheeks puffed out by the broadness of her smile. Tanya gently squeezed
one of Maisie's sweet round buttocks, and her face and mouth descended onto
Maisie's.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"Here? In the corridor?"

"No, silly! What have you stars got private dressing rooms for?"

Maisie knew that in her case it wasn't really for dressing. She wore
very few clothes on set, and those that she did covered very little of her,
and rarely any of those assets which most people kept hidden. However, it
was here that her hair was combed and brushed, make-up discreetly applied
on her face, nipples and the rest of her. After a show, Maisie normally
just cleaned off whatever stickiness and sweat was still clinging to her
body, before picking up the shoulder bag where she kept her music player
and headphones, and what few clothes might be necessary should she venture
into the streets outside the television studios. This time she knew that
the dressing room would be serving quite a different purpose, as still
hugging each other, Tanya pushed open the door and the two of them rolled
into its confines.

Maisie looked at their reflection in the wall-length mirror as they
cuddled by the door. Tanya so much taller than her: taller indeed than
most fully grown women. The serpentine curves of her body against Maisie's
youthful slender frame. And then as Tanya eased down her shorts and
unclasped her top, the full uninterrupted view of Tanya's beauty. Still
the most beautiful woman Maisie had made love to. More beautiful even than
Emma, whom she so dearly loved.

The girls clung together and fell onto the floor and rolled around on
the carpeted floor together. Tanya's tongue probing into the smooth
crevices of Maisie's vagina, her hands grasping her buttocks, her fingers
insinuating themselves into her arse. Maisie groaned and moaned, unable to
compete in the artistry of lovemaking, surrendering herself to Tanya's
tongue, teeth, fingers and flesh. Sweat poured down her chest, her nipples
shone in the harsh neon of the dressing room lights, her tongue ached from
its exertions in Tanya's own crotch: the taste of Tanya's vagina rich in
her nose. And then back against the mirror, with Tanya pushing crotch
against crotch, the two of them standing. Maisie moaned and shook her
head, vaguely conscious through the spasms of ecstasy shaking through her
frame of her lover examining her own reflection in the mirror with a
curiously dispassionate vanity.

Tanya pursed her lips and tenderly kissed Maisie on the cheek and ear.
"We must do this again," she said.

"We must! We must!" gasped Maisie, as Tanya gently eased herself down
her body, her tongue trailing down her face, throat, breasts, stomach, and
finally to where it was somehow most at home, slobbering and prodding about
in Maisie's crotch.

Their sessions of lovemaking together without Emma's knowledge or prior
consent became more frequent. Maisie looked forward to those occasions
when she and Tanya met at work, and even at home there would be times when
Emma was in another room or working late that the two of them would
exchange kisses and caresses. And sometimes, when it seemed that Emma
would never find out, more passionate sessions.

There inevitably came the occasion when Tanya invited Maisie to stay the
night with her at her flat with the excuse that Rochester, Maisie's
own-time co- presenter, was also visiting. This was an opportunity that
Maisie couldn't refuse. Much as she loved the attentions of her female
lovers she also enjoyed the rather different passion and the very different
sex that a male lover provided. But she and Tanya colluded, on Tanya's
suggestion, to hide the exact nature of their separate nights away from
Emma.

Maisie enjoyed her night with Tanya. Her flat was different to Emma's
house. So much closer to the centre of town and all its attractions, and
the decor was so different from Emma's. None of that ethnic furniture that
Maisie thought so tacky, none of those rugs and cushions which made Emma's
home so miscellaneous and inconsistent, and paintings and pictures more
figurative and somehow more urban. And sex with Rochester as great. Even
though he was only a bit older than Maisie herself, he had the sex skills
of a practised porn star, as he now was since he'd got a part as the
difficult nephew in the new soap opera, Connecticut Square.

It was clear that his prick felt more at home inside Tanya than inside
her, and he kept trying to grab more of Tanya's attention than hers, but
Tanya would have none of this. She only allowed him inside her once Maisie
was fully satisfied. She loved the taste of cock, she loved its thrust in
her groin and she loved the feel of Rochester's body against her. She
joined Tanya as the two of them took his erect penis in their hands and
their two mouths worked at its stiff length, their two moist and dripping
tongues touching against the other, and their lips parting to allow both
tongue and prick to enter. However, Rochester was less than pleased as,
the lovemaking progressing, Tanya's tongue and mouth found its way to
Maisie's crotch more often than it did to his own, however tumescent and
however much he clearly needed it.

Emma was not sure when her idyllic menage à trois became less idyllic.
It was certainly after the board meeting where Emma proposed that Tanya
should take a senior position within the Harlot tv hierarchy in a role at
least as senior as her own. She was surprised by how readily her proposal
was accepted by the other members of the board. She'd somehow imagined
that there would be more opposition, particularly as Tanya's rise had been
so meteoric, unlike her own and unlike that of most of her colleagues. She
was also taken aback by how strong the support was amongst the male
majority, not suspecting that Tanya was quite capable of petitioning on her
own behalf both in the bed and out. It was scarcely unanimous. One or two
members protested that Tanya's administrative skills hadn't yet had the
opportunity to mature, and others that as a presenter she was good, but not
really that good. However, they all concurred when the oldest member of
the board, who was at least in his sixties opined that whatever else Tanya
was she was a good fuck, and anyone as good a fuck as her deserved to get
on in the organisation.

Emma began to notice that her lovemaking sessions with Tanya only ever
happened with Maisie: she and Tanya never made love alone. And,
reluctantly, she was aware that the passion that Tanya showed for Maisie
was exceeding that she'd ever shown for Emma, and indeed that the passion
she expressed towards Emma was less than it had been: even in the deepest
throes, even when dildos were deep inside either of them, even when Emma
was orgasming in the delirious, unfocussed, helpless way that came on her
when she was most taken away by the exertions of sex.

And there were the increasing numbers of evening when she was alone.
When both Tanya and Maisie were elsewhere. She might have suspected they
were together, but Maisie had, anyway, often stayed away from home at night
long before Tanya became a significant player, and she readily accepted
Tanya's explanations that her increased workload was taking up her
evenings. But even when only Maisie was there, and the two were embracing
in her bed, there was less of the old passion.

Maisie herself was becoming aware, at first vaguely and then more
acutely, that her relative passion was becoming greater for Tanya than for
Emma. Tanya was so much fun to be with. Always showering her with gifts
like the CDs which although sometimes a bit off the mark generally
approximated to her taste in music. Something which Emma had never done.
Such an accomplished and uninhibited lovemaker. Never afraid of taking
Maisie out to night clubs and restaurants. For her, the nightlife of the
city was so alluring and so much fun. Whilst Emma, however much they'd
love each other, had never been so fun. She was always so serious, so
protective of her lover and young ward. And with all those weird
eccentricities, like naturism and vegetarianism. She could never imagine
having such a wild time in a night club with Emma, as she and Tanya gyrated
and boogied to the pumping dance sounds that thundered around her, and her
uninhibited lovemaking under the flashing lights, not caring at all about
the lascivious stares of the less bombed-out fellow dancers. She loved the
feel of Tanya's tongue on her naked body as the chords rose and fell on
their emotional highs and lows, and she appreciated Tanya's empathy on the
come down as the effects of the pills and alcohol gradually gave way to the
inevitable lows and hangovers.

Emma may not have known how much time her lovers were spending together
without her, but she was noticing the change in her life more and more
acutely. Her work began to suffer as her emotions conflicted with her
business. She forgot to attend meetings, she missed deadlines, she made
more and more mistakes. All the while conscious of Tanya's increased
presence in Harlot TV's intercinine politics and her ever-increasing
profile within the station.

And then, Tanya stopped visiting her altogether. And at work she was
polite, but no longer intimate. Emma became more aware of the attentions
she was attracting and encouraging from the more senior people in the
Harlot tv hierarchy. She became accustomed to seeing Tanya kissing and
cuddling other people. And even fucking them, as she discovered on a visit
to Amelia's office. It wasn't just that she was having sex with her
one-time lover that appalled her, but her unashamedness and the all too
obvious intensity of their passion.

"Why don't you visit anymore?" Emma challenged Tanya with an effort when
the two met by chance at a coffee machine.

Tanya smiled. But distantly, with none of that affection in her face
that Emma still remembered and cherished so well. "Oh, Emma! I would do.
But work! You know how it is ..."

Emma now knew for sure that she would never sleep with Tanya again. But
at least she had Maisie to love. Even if she was out so many evenings
these days. She was a little worried about her young lover. When they did
meet, she seemed so tired and exhausted. And she never seemed to have the
energy, or even the inclination, to share Emma's ever-welcome bed. This
was bad enough, but the next shock demonstrated to Emma how much she had
lost what she had once had: something which had for a while seemed so
perfect, and had swollen her with pride, lust and contentment. Maisie
shyly but firmly announced that she was leaving her to live with Tanya.

"With Tanya!" gasped Emma. "I didn't know that you and she were still
... Or had ever without me ... Tell me this isn't true. You and she!
What about me? I thought I was your lover. All those times you ...
What's happened?"

Maisie was very sad. She had hoped this would never happen, but when
Tanya had suggested she move in to her city flat, so close to everything
that was happening, she knew that there was really no choice. Emma was no
longer what she had been in her eyes anymore. And although she knew there
was no lessening in Emma's love for her: she was a young girl. She had a
life ahead of her. She was too young to settle down.

"I'm sorry," Maisie sniffed, weeping despite herself. Although it
wasn't love like it used to be, she still loved Emma. "It's better if I
leave. I love Tanya. I love her so much. I want to stay with her. It's
not because I want to leave you. It's because I want to be with Tanya."

Emma cried out loud in despair despite herself. How had this happened?
How had Tanya, who she'd trusted and loved ... How could she? Emma
grasped Maisie to her chest, hoping that naked body against naked body,
that somehow everything would be reversed, and Maisie would say that she
was sorry, that she hadn't meant it, that really she still loved Emma more
than Tanya.

But it wasn't to be. Maisie disengaged herself from Emma's caress
politely, but firmly. And after a few embarrassed moments of sniffled
remorse and apologies, she left Emma's home and spent the night at Tanya's
flat. The following evening, when Emma came home from a miserable,
unproductive day at work, she found that all Maisie's possessions were
gone. On the table was Maisie's house key and a scrawled note from the
young girl saying: "I love you Emma. But I love Tanya more. I'm sure
you'll find someone else. ??"

Emma burst into tears and didn't stop crying. She had never wanted
someone else. She had only ever wanted Maisie. Her first evening alone
was spent sat naked on the sofa with the company of a bottle of gin and the
backdrop of a succession of plaintive ballads mournfully selected from her
CD collection.

XLVI



Pregnancy was not a pleasant ordeal. In fact, as it came closer to
giving birth, Charlotte came to more and more wish that it was over and
done with. The weight of her unborn child had become more and more of a
burden, and at times she almost resented its presence within her womb: a
feeling that gave her feelings of remorse and worry whether she was really
ever meant to do be a mother. After all, she was a lesbian, and children
was something lesbians were not supposed to have or to worry about. Even
if she viewed Josephine as the true spiritual father of her child. And the
pain of pregnancy wasn't just in her stomach, but in her swollen breasts and weighed down her spine and made her feel sick and nauseous every
morning. Would it ever end?

Her last day of work before taking maternal leave was a sad one. She
did very little work on this day: less than even the little work that she
was being allocated by her sympathetic bosses. She kissed her naked
colleagues goodbye, and let herself be escorted home by Enid, letting the
young girl embrace and kiss her even though in truth she no longer had much
appetite or inclination for even Enid's very tender lovemaking.

Josephine also took time off work, turning down all offers of work so
that she could be by her spouse's side as she came closer to the day of her
hospital appointment. Josephine was uncertain how to behave, clearly
unsettled by Charlotte's loss of sexual appetite: cancelling all the
advances of the men who had been such a reliable source of pleasure and
distraction up till then. The two girls would nestle together under the
sheets of their bed indulging an appetite for chocolate and cookies rather
than sexual ecstasy. In fact, Josephine was sure she felt Charlotte's
pregnancy almost as much as if it were her own: worried indeed whether she
might herself gain weight from all the high-calorie food she was sharing
with her spouse.

Even the times Josephine spent away from Charlotte, shopping or making
arrangements for the birth felt almost like betrayal to her. She felt her
true role was to be her wife's constant companion. She worried as she was
filling her basket in the supermarket whether even these moments of
separation would be moments she would forever regret as moments she should
have been by Charlotte's side when the spasms which were happening so
infrequently now would break into the pattern her ante-natal classes had
warned her about.

But when it happened, there was an air of inevitability about it.
Charlotte's spasms came with the rhythmic regularity that were expected,
the taxi-ride through the city was tense but not unforeseen: she had even
had the presence of mind to dress Charlotte for a world where her nudity
would be frowned on, and even to pack the night-gown that she had the
foresight to buy for the hospital ward. There was no such thing as a
hospital or even a ward for the committed naturist.

Josephine stayed with Charlotte as she endured the many hours of labour
and finally witnessed the emergence of the new baby, as its head emerged
damp and squashed from between Charlotte's legs. It was a boy: healthy and
vigorous as demonstrated by his first cries as it came into the world. So
it was a Thomas Edward, as the two girls had agreed, not an Emma Susan.
And as soon as he was lifted to the air by the midwife, placenta dripping
from his shiny skin, umbilical cord dangling from his navel, Josephine
could see that it would be less difficult than she'd imagined to hazard who
the actual biological father could be. His skin was a light chocolate
brown, which meant that the father would have been one of the two or was it
three black men that Charlotte had had sex with in that fateful few weeks
nine months before when he had been conceived.

Charlotte was exhausted by her hours of exertion, but nonetheless
desperate to see who she had borne. She yelped with a delight as the baby
settled down in her arms while the midwifes and doctors busied themselves.
She was now a mother, and, she thought, smiling at her anxious lover,
Josephine was now a father.

She stayed in hospital for less than a week, in which time all her
friends visited. Enid and Hyacinth, Susan and Rosemary, colleagues from
work and Josephine's parents. Maisie visited, but by herself, with neither
Tanya nor Emma for company: she was as fascinated as anyone by the sight of
the little boy: his small walnut crumpled face, his puffy eyes, the small
perfectly formed hands that opened and closed without grasping on anything,
and the bush of black curls over his light chocolate brown face. Charlotte
smiled indulgently at young Thomas, while Maisie sat on the edge of the
bed, uncertain as what to say or do.

"Where's Emma?" Charlotte asked, disappointed that her closest friend
hadn't come to see her. "Is she busy?"

Maisie shook her head sadly. "I don't know. I've left her. I'm
staying at Tanya's now."

"Tanya?" wondered Charlotte. She glanced at Josephine, who was sitting
on the chair at the side of the bed just by the assortment of cards and
fruit that people had brought in. Over the past few weeks her concerns had
been primarily focused on her own pains and trials, but she and Josephine
had noticed that Emma was distinctly less happy than she had been. In
fact, they had noticed Emma's mood in recent months climb to a level of
cheerfulness that was quite unusual in such an intense woman, and then,
quite suddenly, descend to a kind of despondency. And now, at this
important moment of Charlotte's life, where was she? Charlotte had always
dimly relied on Emma's support and sympathy in making these difficult
decisions of marriage and motherhood, and she was surprised by how acutely
she was wounded by its apparent absence.

Maisie eulogised about Tanya and expressed her sadness about leaving
Emma. "But it had to happen. We've been together for such an absolutely
long time."

Josephine tenderly kissed Maisie, aware of how guilt in leaving Emma was
welling up in her, and how Charlotte was clearly quite upset at the news of
her best friend's loss, and, knowing Emma's passion for the girl, how
miserable she must now feel without her. Perhaps it was because of this
sorrow that Emma hadn't visited her in these days?

In fact, Emma did visit, but only briefly. She arrived early in the
visiting hours, looking pale and slightly unwell, and quite uncomfortable
in the long thin overcoat she wore to cover her nakedness. She wasn't very
chatty, and smiled only very politely. Her thoughts were not focused on
Charlotte or little Thomas at all. Charlotte could see that her best
friend was not overly keen on children anyway. She showed very little of
the enthusiasm for babies that most of her visitors had displayed, and
asked only the most perfunctory questions about his well-being. And then
she left, leaving a very sad kiss on Charlotte's cheeks and lips, and swept
out of the hospital ward, caring little as always for the eyes that trailed
behind her, questioning just how much was not hidden beneath her coat.

Soon, Charlotte was out of the hospital and back at the flat she now
shared only with Josephine and the baby. She was still weak, and felt
rather depressed despite herself. She didn't know how she was supposed to
feel, although the ante-natal classes had given her fair warning that
recovery from childbirth was by no means instantaneous. Part of her felt
that she should be feeling more positively about life now that she had
achieved what she had been hoping for so very much for all these months.
But instead she felt drained and somewhat disorientated by the strange
routine of life dictated by Thomas' needs to eat and sleep, and his equal
and consequent needs to shit, piss and vomit.

Josephine stayed by her side as much as she could, doing rather more
than her fair share of feeding the baby, caring for Charlotte's needs and
keeping house. She also acted as hostess to the stream of visitors coming
to see how the new mother was and to admire the progress of little Thomas.
And when there were no visitors and she had no chores to attend to, she
would lay on the bed next to Charlotte, holding her close, admiring the
stomach which had so recently swollen so monstrously, and showed clear
signs of the stretching, the swollen breasts and the lactating nipples, and
Charlotte's sad plaintive smiles as they lay hand in hand on the bed.

Much as Josephine so much desired Charlotte's body, sex was not the
frantic frequent affair of not long distant months ago. Cuddling,
caressing and kissing was usually all there was, although Charlotte had the
energy and inclination to take Josephine's clitoris and vulva to her mouth
and lick, chew and taste the object of her most passionate desire.
Josephine knelt up, her knees on either side of Charlotte's chest, her arms
supporting herself up against the bedroom wall, while below she felt the
familiar lapping of her wife's tongue amongst the folds and contours of her
most private parts. She could see that even this little amount of
lovemaking was all Charlotte was as yet willing to embrace, and that it
would be several more weeks until sex between the two of them would recover
its previous pitch, and longer still until Charlotte would once again
entertain the company of men.

Enid was Charlotte's most frequent visitor. She would sit naked
bestraddled on the massive double bed, holding Charlotte's hand and staring
admiringly into her eyes. Josephine, however, knew that as much as Enid
loved Charlotte, even though they had only made love together on less than
a dozen occasions, it was towards herself that Enid's feelings were
strongest. The girl's reaction was so transparent whenever Josephine took
her by the hand or gave her a kiss. Enid's mouth would open in
ever-frustrated anticipation and her eyes would close invitingly.

Then Thomas burst into tears from his cot at the end of the bed.
Josephine jumped up, and picked up the baby who instinctively grasped at
her naked breasts, and fixed his wet hungry lips on Josephine's nipples.

"There's nothing for you there, Tommy!" Josephine said with a good-
humoured smile pulling the disappointed child off from her bare breasts and
passing him over to Charlotte, who very quickly cradled the baby in her
arms and manoeuvred her large aureate breasts towards the baby's greedy
toothless mouth. Enid was fascinated to see the very different hunger that
Charlotte's breasts were satisfying, so different in kind from that which
they had so often done for her.

Charlotte looked at Enid as Thomas drank the milk from her nipples, as
the girl sat with Josephine's arm around her shoulder at the foot of the
bed. She reflected on Enid's lust for Josephine and smiled sadly. "You
can, you know," she said. "I don't mind."

"What do you mean?" gasped Enid, uncertain that she had heard right, but
nonetheless aware of the tightening squeeze on her upper arm from Josephine
who had heard quite clearly and knew exactly what her spouse was saying.

"I know what you want," Charlotte elaborated. "And I know what
Josephine wants, too. But as for me ... I don't know ... after all that
effort: the straining and whatever ... I'm just not so keen. And I so
want Josephine to be happy."

"If you're sure?..." asked Josephine extending an arm out to the hand
that wasn't supporting Thomas.

"I'm sure," said Charlotte firmly, seeing that Thomas was now fed, and
just as suddenly as he'd awoken, had fallen back to sleep. She lifted the
boy up to her wife, who carried him carefully and tenderly back to his cot.
Enid watched with a thumping heart, her breath short with dread and
anticipation, as she watched Josephine's arched, tall naked form bend over
the cot: the line of her spine raised up and trailing down in descending
hummocks to the valley of her buttocks.

And then, making sure the baby was settled, Josephine turned around to
display the full beauty of her perfect body: the swan-like neck, the slim
waist, the natural firm breasts, and the tidy triangular patch of hair that
almost obscured her greatest treasures. She strode towards the bed, a
broad smile across her face, her eyes shining in that unmistakeable way
that Enid had come to recognise in Charlotte when they had made love, and
the cheeks shining like a pair of apples between the lines of her toothy
smile and the sparkling jewels of her eyes.

Enid felt her passion rise from a deep well of longing as Josephine's
lips approached her own, and then she was lost in passion and desire as
their lips met, their tongues battled against each other, and Josephine's
hands explored her naked body. Awkwardly she opened her arms and grasped
Josephine's body to her own, pulling her down onto the bed on top of her,
breathing heavily as her lust and desire erupted from her and shook her
body in a way that she'd only experienced before with Charlotte. And then
hands, lips, fingers, tongue all over her body as Enid returned the
intimacy as best she could. Josephine was at last in her arms! That
beautiful body, the face which shone a beauty greater than the sum of any
parts! Such ecstasy!

Charlotte lay beside the pair, her lower torso and legs beneath the
duvet and sheets that covered her, watching with approval the lovemaking of
her wife and her colleague. Her hand moved down beneath the sheets and
stroked her crotch as it moistened from the pleasure Josephine's pleasure
brought to her. She had worried so much that her wife had sacrificed so
much for her, and here in the form of this little girl of such
single-minded passion was what was needed to bring relief. As her fingers
explored her clitoris and the slippery folds of her vulva, she wondered if
she had the energy to participate, but though a part of her desired the
thrust and grapple of sex, she knew she had none of the energy and somehow
lost the sexual inclination to relieve herself in such a gross physical
way.

Josephine took Charlotte's hand in hers while her tongue and eyes
explored Enid's vagina, the rich whiff of passion filling her nostrils, her
tongue and lips slipping on the moist folds of the vulva, small strands of
brown hair between her teeth and tickling the back of her tongue. Beneath
her, she could feel Enid convulse with pleasure, shuddering as her sweaty
body slid about on the sheets by the pushed-back duvet, her tongue and
teeth and nose thrust deep inside her own vagina, a finger occasionally
probing and exploring the puckered anus and adding to the pleasure of sex
she had almost forgotten these past few weeks.

And eventually, after gasps, cries and yelps of pent-up passion and
release, the couple disengaged and slumped on the sheets by the side of
Charlotte. With a sigh, Charlotte put an arm under and around the two
lovers and her lips tenderly kissed Josephine's cheek. Such bliss! Such
joy!

And then, as babies do when disturbed by unfamiliar sounds and smells,
Thomas suddenly burst into tears, demanding yet more succour. Without a
thought, Josephine pulled herself away from the caresses of both Enid and
Charlotte and rushed to bring the baby to the teat it desired so much. As
she carried the yelling baby, she smiled with pleasure at the stretched out
forms of Enid and Charlotte over the disarray of sheet, duvet and pillow:
the one with a breast raised by a hand to receive Thomas' eager mouth and
the other engulfed in the silliest of grins, curled up in a foetal ball and
her arms thrust between her legs. So, she thought as she passed Thomas to
his mother, this is what married life is like.

XLVII



The shock of losing Maisie hit Emma harder than she could have ever
imagined. She lost the will to get up in the morning, to care for herself,
and even to go to work. Every venture into the world beyond her house was
a struggle. She hated the looks she got from other people, and imagined
that everyone was aware of her loss, whereas, of course, most people were
simply trying to establish what it was she wore underneath her loose
clothes. These visits were almost always brief ones to fill her fridge
with food that most often she had lost the appetite to eat, and just once
to see Charlotte and her new baby at the hospital. This depressed her even
more as she felt so inadequate to express to her best friend how pleased
she was that the child-birth had been so successful.

She didn't tell anyone at work for over a week she wasn't coming in, and
was extremely upset when she got a very brusque and angry phone call from
Amelia who demanded that she return to work immediately. She went to bed
with the full intention of returning, but when she awoke she was too
depressed to carry her resolution through. Instead, she went to a doctor
and got a sick note to excuse her from work. Her next communique from
Harlot tv came as even more of a shock. She was told in no uncertain terms
that her recent work was simply not of the high standard that the station
had come to expect from her and was frankly totally unsatisfactory. She
was given three months notice, which started retrospectively from the first
day she had failed to turn up to work, and informed her that she was not
expected back at the studio.

Her depression exploded into tears and cries which darkened even further
the clouds which gathered in her head and made normal life impossible for
her. She returned to bed where she stayed all day, wailing her misfortune,
comforted only by thoughts of self-pity and tortured by rage and anger at
Tanya. She had been betrayed by one who had taken advantage of her good
nature and stolen the love of her life from her, and now she was left to
fend for herself. And not very well either.

The days passed by, each one indistinguishable from the one before,
Emma's rests in bed often lasting all day. She lost the ability to
concentrate on literature or any reading matter at all. In fact, other
than weep and flagellate herself with her regrets and despair, all she
could do was watch the most mindless and undemanding television programs.
No programme was too banal, no show too hackneyed: quiz shows, soap operas,
chat shows, and news programmes. She lost all appetite for sex television
whose content only served to remind her of what she was missing. She read
the mail that arrived with more attention than ever before, though most of
it was junk mail, and most of the rest were bills. She lost the appetite
to check her e-mails, and the only music she felt inclined to play was as
despondent as the mood she felt.

It was while she was sitting on the sofa, listening to a requiem, that
she heard her doorbell ring. She wasn't expecting a visitor: in fact, she
lived quite some way from her friends and was never used to calls anyway.
Her heart began beating in foolish anticipation and hope. Was it Maisie?
Had she had enough of Tanya? Had she come to realise that it was only with
her that she'd ever find true love? She hurried to the door, and peeked
through the eyehole, half-expecting Maisie and half-expecting a postman.

What she saw, distorted by the magnification of the eyehole, was
Charlotte and Josephine standing at the entrance: Charlotte with Thomas
clinging to the bare breast she uncovered under the long coat which was all
she wore. She hesitated. Could she let her friend see her like this. A
perverse sense of self-worthlessness almost persuaded her to pretend she
wasn't in, but her love for Charlotte, and her regret that she'd not seen
her best friend since she'd left hospital, got the better of her, and she
carefully opened the door, forgetting that she was still naked, and would
once again scandalise the posh neighbourhood.

"Emma!" smiled Charlotte. "How are you? We were so worried. We heard
you'd lost your job. And we heard about Maisie. Can we come in?"

"Of course! Of course!" said Emma, unable to smile and feeling wretched
for her lack of friendliness.

Charlotte and Josephine entered the house; Charlotte immediately feeling
guilty that she'd not come to see her friend sooner. But it was not easy
being a mother. Thomas was so demanding, and it was only recently she had
recovered sufficiently to venture out of the flat herself. Emma was
clearly not herself. Her home showed the signs of neglect. Nothing had
been cleaned, polished or even tidied away. An untidy row of empty bottles
lined the hall-way, and some magazines had been left on the floor in an
untidy heap where Emma had dropped them and had never bothered to throw
away. The living room where Emma took them to was similarly untidy.
Cushions lying on the floor, a rug turned up at the corner, records and
books scattered about randomly. Normally Emma was so tidy. Almost
obsessively so. And now everything was untidy and unclean. Even her long
hair was tangled and unwashed, and Charlotte couldn't help noticing there
was the slight smell of mustiness from her unshowered skin. She handed
Thomas over to Josephine, who was wearing a sobre blue blouse and white
skirt, and grabbed Emma around the shoulders and pulled her towards her.

"We've been so worried!" Charlotte cried. "We haven't heard from you so
long! We thought you might be busy at work, but Maisie told us how you'd
been sacked. Is it because you're sad that Maisie's left you?"

Emma nodded and sniffed bitterly. "It was that cow Tanya! She picked
me up, exploited me and then just threw me away. And then, as if that
wasn't enough she took my little Maisie away from me!"

Charlotte smiled sadly at Josephine, as if to say that it was as they'd
suspected. "You must forget about Maisie now. She's gone. I don't know
what this Tanya's like. I've never spoken to her; but Maisie's made her
choice and what's done is done. It's you that you should think about. Did
you lose your job because of Maisie? Or was there some other reason?"

Emma sank her head onto Charlotte's bare shoulder, tears bursting
through and onto her friend. "I was so depressed. I am so depressed. I
just lost the will to go to work. Or even, sometimes, to live. It's been
so hard."

"Now, now," said Charlotte comfortingly, patting her friend on her bare
back, aware of the desire returning in her for her friend, despite her
express intention to not feel that way. She held Emma to her, while
Josephine watched with sympathy, Thomas gurgling contentedly in her arms.

Josephine then placed the baby in the carry-cot the girls had brought
along with them, and tucked him under the thin woollen blanket, naked
except for his nappies. She then removed her clothes and sat down on a
chair, her legs crossed and her arms folded. Charlotte took this as a cue,
and eased Emma off her, as she removed her coat to reveal her own naked
body. Despite herself Emma was interested to see the changes child-birth
had brought on her friend. Her breasts were fuller and her nipples much
more prominent. She was still somewhat fatter round the waist than she
used to be and there were stretch-marks on her stomach. She kissed
Charlotte tenderly, aware of her selfishness in not paying more attention
to her friend's needs.

"How is Thomas?" she asked.

"He's doing very well. He had a small fever last week. We were very
worried, but apparently it's quite normal in small babies."

Conversation became more relaxed as the girls discussed motherhood, and
then gradually took in gossip on the girls' friends and how life was back
at the flat. Charlotte complained how the flat somehow didn't seem right
for the needs of parenthood. Josephine joked about the trials of feeding
the baby and changing his nappies. Despite herself, Emma felt a smile
break across her face as Josephine described in detail the problems they'd
faced in cleaning up his sick and excrement, and some of the comments that
had been made to them as a lesbian couple with a baby.

Charlotte sat next to Emma on the sofa and stroked and kissed her as
they spoke, her mind flashing back to her earlier desires for her friend,
and finding that they were still inside her. On occasion her lust for Emma
overwhelmed her and she would kiss her friend on the cheek or on the face,
tenderly wiping off the tears with her tongue, her arms around Emma's
shoulders. Emma also began to feel the warmth in her feelings for
Charlotte return, gingerly at first, and then ever more boldly, her own
arms looped around Charlotte's waist and she stroked the stomach which had
so recently carried such a greater load.

It was Josephine though who had the presence of mind to take the
initiative. She eased herself up out of the chair and walked over to the
other side of Emma and trailed her arms around the girl. Emma smiled as
conversation dwindled to nothing and everything was spoken in gestures and
smiles. And then, inevitable as it was, Josephine put her lips to Emma's
and held them there. Emma's mouth opened and tongues joined together.

Charlotte meanwhile allowed her hands to probe down her friend's
stomach, as Emma's had on hers, but her fingers trailed between her legs.
Emma responded with a sigh and parted her thighs to let Charlotte's fingers
more welcome entry, while her tongue and teeth battled with those of
Josephine's. The three girls remained in this position, sitting on the
sofa, Thomas snoozing away in his cot, as the caresses became bolder and
more sensual.

And soon the three girls were stretched out, on the floor, on the sofa,
arms and legs stretched, fingers, tongues and lips probing and exploring
the folds and contours of bodies known so familiarly but not enjoyed
together for so long. Emma's curiosity about Charlotte's changed body was
satisfied, while Josephine cuddled her spouse and tongued Emma's vagina.
Gradually and sensually, their bodies became hotter and sweatier: words not
passing any lips but instead concentration focused on genitals, breasts and
faces. Their bodies shook and shuddered sympathetically, only grunts and
moans coming from any of them. Emma's long tangled hair mixed in the
strands of Charlotte's own long hair, while beneath them Josephine busied
herself as equally as she could between the two vaginas, fingers in both
and a tongue now in one and then with a sigh transferred to the other.

But final orgasm was not achieved. Just as Charlotte felt that for the
first time since she'd given birth she would once again feel those
delicious feelings erupt in her body, scramble her senses and dissolve her
soul into a total oneness with her friend and her wife, Thomas chose to
release a loud wail that totally startled Emma who had never heard such a
sound before in such close proximity.

"The darling's hungry!" exclaimed Charlotte pulling her senses together
and leaping out of the sofa as quickly as her battered sweaty body could
allow her.

Thomas continued crying until Charlotte picked him up, cradled his
nappied body to her breasts, and offered him a red raw nipple to suckle:
which he did with a voracious hunger that rather alarmed Emma. Did
Charlotte have enough milk in her to satisfy the little monster's appetite?
she wondered ungraciously.

Without Charlotte, Josephine felt it was not right that she should
continue making love to Emma, so she took her tongue and fingers away from
the swelling mound of her vagina, and sat on the sofa next to her, her arms
around Emma's shoulders and a hand in Emma's hand.

"Thomas is such a demanding baby!" she commented to Emma with a broad,
almost maternal, grin. "I love him so much! I'm so lucky to have him
almost for my own. And Charlotte too, of course!"

Emma nodded, agreeing and also feeling a pang of regret that she had so
often spurned Charlotte's affection and had instead focused it on a girl who was ultimately so ungrateful. She watched indulgently as Charlotte's
breast which she'd so recently enjoyed for her own pleasure was now giving
so much succour to the young baby, who held onto it so greedily, his brown
skin such a contrast against Charlotte's own pale flesh.

When Charlotte had finished suckling Thomas, the girls didn't resume
their lovemaking. Instead, they sat together on the sofa, arms around each
other, making no attempt to resurrect their interrupted passion.

"So, what are you going to do now?" asked Charlotte. "Now that you've
lost your job? Are you going to look for another?"

"I don't know," sniffed Emma sadly. "I've made such a mess of
everything. Soon all the money will run out, and I've got a mortgage on
this house to maintain. I don't know how I can find a job that pays as
well as the one I've had. And I don't think I've got the self-confidence
to look for another one in the television industry."

"Any job would do to start off with," Josephine remarked. "Any job
which gets you out and about. Or anything at all that gets you out of the
house."

"I just don't know what to do. There aren't many jobs for committed
naturists like me. I just wouldn't know what to do if I had to work
wearing clothes."

"Aren't there naturist resorts with jobs, though?" wondered Josephine.
"I'm sure there must be. There are loads of them. Why don't you go to one
of those?"

"I hadn't thought of that. They're always advertising for committed
naturists. To work in the hotels, restaurants and things. But that would
mean leaving the house. What would happen to it then? Would I have to
give it up?"

Josephine sighed. She looked at Charlotte imploringly. "I don't know.
Perhaps you'll have to sell it. Or take on lodgers or something."

"Or we could stay here," announced Charlotte. "We need more space.
Would that be a good idea, Emma darling?"

Emma frowned. She'd not really thought at all on what she should do
next. She'd worried so much about what she had lost, and had worried so
much on what more that there was left to lose, that she'd never really
entertained any options other than despair and further loss.

"It's a good idea," she mused. "And any work would be better than none,
I suppose. And there are quite a few naturist resorts. I've never visited
any of them. Well, not since I was a student. And that was with friends
from the university Naturist Society. NatSoc it was called." She smiled
good-humouredly, despite herself. "We took ourselves so seriously. We
thought that all you had to do was take your clothes off and not eat meat,
and the whole world's problems would end. But all we ever did was drink
too much and talk a load of rubbish."

Emma mused quietly as she recalled her youth. Where had all that
idealism gone? But Josephine and Charlotte were right. It was a realistic
solution. Once out of the house, maybe memories of Maisie would fade and
she could regain the confidence she needed to make her way in her chosen
profession.

"But what'll happen to the flat?" she asked, recalling all the days she
had spent there with Charlotte and Harriett.

"A month's notice and we can be out," said Charlotte. "And we can move
in and keep you company before you leave. What do you think?"

Emma smiled at her friend gratefully. All the weight of her depression
seemed to be lifting from her. The dark cloud which had beset her these
last few weeks was dispelling. She loved Charlotte and Josephine so much!
They were her real friends. She was sad that she'd never given the
appreciation they'd deserved.

"I would like that. I would like that so very much!"

XLVIII



Sunbury hadn't always been a naturist resort. For most of its history
it had been a fishing village, blessed with a beautiful bay at the foot of
some hills, with a small pier and a few dozen cottages. However,
exhaustive fishing brought a collapse to the village's economy, and its
secluded and relatively remote location made it an ideal place to satisfy
the growing market for naturism and other related nature-loving lifestyles.
It was now quite a reasonable sized town, dotted with a dozen or more
hotels and lodging houses, a seasonably busy shopping area and many new
entertainment industries. The dock that had once been the home for the
fishing boats was now the permanent home for several yachts and motor
boats. Emma drove into the town, found a small flat to stay in overlooking
the sea, and after unpacking her car set out to look for work in the shops,
restaurants, cafes and hotels of the town.

She felt immediately better when she arrived. It may have been the
invigorating sea air, or the beautiful view over the bay to the small boats
bobbing about on the dark green sea, or just that she was so far away from
home and reminders of Maisie. It may have been the delight of staying in a
place where almost everyone was naked like her. She enjoyed the relatively
unfamiliar feel of the warm sea air on her bare flesh. She loved the fact
that she was one of many people who were in the nude, and would almost
certainly meet others who had similar opinions and views on naturism as
herself.

She walked along the pavement, idly pausing to look in the windows of
the shops looking for a sign that advertised for workers. She didn't mind
where she worked. She could work anywhere: the main thing was to find
something which would occupy her while she was in Sunbury. A strange
cheerfulness uplifted her as she walked past men and women naked like
herself who did not stare at her or make low-voiced comments to each other.
She smiled to herself, the world and her reflection in the shop windows.

It was in a small health food cafe that she eventually found work. It
was towards the end of the Sunbury high street, just opposite a hairdresser
and between a hat shop and a shop selling paintings by local naturist
artists. The owner of the cafe was a small quite plump woman with very
full round breasts and a disarming grin. She was delighted in the fact of
Emma's long-term commitment to vegetarianism and all healthy foods. She
quickly judged from Emma's smart appearance and her intelligence that she
was eminently presentable and quite capable in the role of waitress. She
didn't even have to remind Emma of the unfortunate consequences of spilling
hot tea on herself when there was no apron or other clothes to protect her
skin. She willingly presented Emma with the small folded linen hat which
denoted that she was a waitress, and was quite happy that she could start
straight away.

"I'm always short of good waitresses," she confessed. "It's not the
sort of job people ever choose to make a career out of."

Emma soon settled into her new role, quite happy in a position with no
great responsibilities and with absolutely no stress. She was busy when
the cafe was busy, and able to relax with a magazine or newspaper when it
was quiet. It was a delight to continue working in the nude, and to be
surrounded by others similarly undressed. She particularly enjoyed the
fact that from when she woke up to when she went to bed, she didn't need to
wear a stitch of clothing. Her paltry selection of tee-shirts and dresses
remained packed in her suitcases exactly as they were when she'd left her
home in the care of Charlotte and Josephine.

As a single girl she quite naturally attracted the attention of the
single men who were on holiday, but she shrugged off their advances with
the same nonchalance and lack of interest she always had. Her serious
demeanour was quite enough in most cases to make it fairly clear to them
that she was a girl who meant pretty much what she said. Even those who
were more persistent resigned themselves fairly soon to brief uncomplicated
conversation as she took their orders and hurried back from the kitchen
with their tea and scones.

She also came to realise that most people she saw were only in Sunbury
for a short while, and that every week or fortnight the regular visitors
were replaced by another set who saw her with fresh eyes. Her practised
eye soon became aware of the attraction that one of the regular visitors
felt towards her. Beatrice was a slim woman, slightly older than herself,
naked like everyone else except for a pair of steel-rimmed glasses and who
always carried a paperback novel around with her. Her straight dark brown
hair fell onto her shoulders and behind the concave lenses of her
spectacles were a pair of sparkling light green eyes. She had a tell-tale
awkwardness and a shy laugh which betrayed to Emma the nature of Beatrice's
feelings towards her. It was fairly easy for Emma to convert a
conversation about the relative merits of Dostoëvsky and Turgenev to a
night out together after she'd finished work in one of Sunbury's quieter
restaurants.

Emma was pleased that Beatrice had never heard of her work with Harlot
TV. Indeed, Emma was sure that those who did recognise her as a one-time
television presenter and spokesperson did not believe that she was really
the same person as the waitress she now was in the Chestnut Tree Cafe.
Several people had commented on her resemblance, but her remark that this
was something that many others had spotted before was sufficient for them
to be sure that this was merely superficial and not at all substantial.
Emma ensured that her conversation with Beatrice remained focused on
abstract issues or on Beatrice herself. She worked as a librarian in a
small town. She knew nobody who shared her passion for naturism, and so it
was only on holidays such as this that she felt able to present herself to
the world in her true colours.

After a couple of glasses of Chardonnay in the Montpellier wine bar,
Emma easily persuaded Beatrice back to her flat, knowing perhaps better
than the librarian herself how the evening would turn out. Indeed,
Beatrice was quite startled when Emma's lips pressed to her and her arms
clasped the girl to her breast. Within minutes, the two girls were laid
out on the double-bed that dominated the bedroom, their faces close
together and Beatrice's spectacles discreetly placed on the bedside
cabinet. It was glorious to once again taste a fresh vagina on her tongue,
to feel a different set of breasts: these ones small and perky, and a slim
waist that merged into her narrow hips and tight bottom.

Beatrice was not an expert lover. In fact, Emma was sure she had
enjoyed very little passion with any women before, but she was careful to
avoid any questions on her earlier love-life. It was better somehow not to
know. It was far better just to enjoy Beatrice as she was, using her
fingers to bring the nervous girl to spasms of orgasmic ecstasy, and
careful also not to frighten her with any of Emma's rougher tastes in
lovemaking. Beatrice tried her best to respond like with like. She
greedily gobbled away at Emma's clitoris, her long slim tongue probing the
folds beneath the dark brown hair of her crotch, while Emma below parted
her vagina and pushed her fingers in and out of its depths. However, she
resisted the urge to probe a finger into the tight puckered anus. That was
for another night.

Beatrice discharged herself from her hotel and stayed in Emma's flat for
the duration of her holiday, declaring so many times that this was the best
holiday she had ever had. Emma could see that Beatrice was falling in love
with her, so she resisted any opportunity for conversation to take too
personal a tone. Making love was one thing. Being in love was another.
She enjoyed Beatrice for her body and her company, but she was still in
love with Maisie and she was just not ready yet to become committed to
anyone else. Furthermore, she doubted whether Beatrice would enjoy the
company of her friends. And she was sure she wouldn't really approve of
the nature of the employment most of them were engaged in.

As the days went by, Maisie became a more distant memory. Occasionally,
she found her thoughts drifting back to the girl and their life together.
Every time she saw a girl in the streets with long curly hair. Every time
she reflected on her life before she came to Sunbury. Every time when the
relative inexperience of Beatrice's caresses and gropings reawoke a memory
of the earlier days of her lovemaking with Maisie. Her life was
nevertheless mostly quite contented. She worked all day in the cafe, she
spent pleasant evenings at her flat or in the town of Sunbury with
Beatrice. They would walk together, hand in hand, along the sandy beach or
the promenade. And on Emma's days off, walk off together through the woods
and countryside around Sunbury, often straying dangerously close towards
the textile world beyond. Beatrice's warm hand in her hand, or her fingers
on her crotch, were thoroughly agreeable distractions. And it was a
pleasure too, to converse on their shared views on the merits of nudity,
vegetarianism and, quite curiously, a shared passion for twentieth century
poets like T. S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath.

They would lie together on the grass, in the hills high above the busy
town below, idly discoursing until, inevitably, lust got the better of one
or the other of them and the two would once again become a writhing
entwined body of one flesh, the sun beating on them from above and the
grass prodding and poking into the crevices of their flesh from below.
Emma didn't care, unlike Beatrice, if ever anyone passed by and saw the
girls making love together. These moments of outdoor lovemaking were too
precious to interrupt for the sensibility of people and their children, who
in any case would be seeing no more flesh than they themselves were
displaying.

Emma was genuinely sad to see Beatrice leave after her holiday romance
to return to the Lower Bridlington Public Library, although clearly not as
sad as Beatrice as she left in clothes that had been unworn all the time
they'd been together. They exchanged addresses and agreed to write, but
Emma knew there was no future in their love affair. She returned to the
bed which was once again hers and hers alone, a fresh gap in her life as
she missed the comfort of her lover.

She wasn't to remain alone for long, as now it was clear to others in
Sunbury where her tastes in love lay, she attracted the attention of others
who shared her predilections. She was soon sharing her bed with Petula, a
short-haired slim girl barely much more than five feet tall who worked in
the Montpellier wine bar. It may well have been her gamin-like appearance
which attracted Emma, who still measured her lovers against her beloved
Maisie.

Petula was a far less serious girl than Beatrice, but not one nearly as
promiscuous as Emma's friends in the city. Emma chose not to disabuse the
girl of her own opinion of how adventurous her lovemaking was, although she
felt freer to indulge in her rougher sexual practices, which at first
alarmed the girl but to which she soon became more enthusiastic. Indeed,
she came to view the bruises that were concomitant with a passionate night
spent together with a kind of pride. They were evidence to anyone who
cared to know that she had a truly passionate sexual relationship.
Although Emma missed the conversations on literature and the arts she had
so much enjoyed with Beatrice, Petula's passion and desire more than
compensated. Furthermore, she was substantially more mature than Maisie,
which at first Emma viewed as a vice but soon came to see as a virtue. But
not so mature that she was not attracted to the one night club which
Sunbury boasted in the basement of the Bel Soleil, the largest hotel in the
resort.

Emma had never been much of a clubber. Those times she had gone to a
night club in the city with Maisie on the girl's insistence had not been
especially pleasant for her. The music was too loud and she found the
music more headache- rather than ecstasy-inducing. However, the Chemise
was not as unpleasant to Emma as those she'd been to before, mostly for the
reasons which earned Petula's contempt. The music wasn't quite as
ear-shattering and she was able to discern tunes which she'd enjoyed
listening to on the radio. It was also pleasant to be in a place where
nudity was the rule and no one stared at her in that peculiar way they did
when she attired herself as she felt most comfortable back home. She even
assented to dancing with Petula even though she invariably found most
danceable those very tunes which Emma liked the least. However, as she
gyrated woodenly around her much more excitable lover, she began to
appreciate more clearly the patterns and rhythms in the general muddle of
sound. She might not actually want to buy these records herself, but she
could see more of their merit in the bright lights and swooping shadows of
the dance floor.

During such nights, Petula's passion rose to new heights, barely able to
keep her hands or tongue off Emma's body whether they were on the dance
floor or sitting on the margins of it with glasses of wine or mineral
water. And when they returned to Emma's flat, the sheets were soon damp
with the mutual sweat and juice of their shared passion, occasionally
bringing even Emma to orgasmic gasps which she'd thought she'd never
experience again.

Emma's misery at the loss of Maisie soon vanished altogether. She knew
that she was cured when one morning she awoke early, the rays of the
morning sun flooding through the window and lighting up Petula's huddled
form squeezed against her. She gazed at her lover, her face wreathed in a
smile even in her sleep, and felt her heart lift inside her as she
reflected that Petula was hers to enjoy and remembered the girl's passion
of the night before. She felt a smile break across her face: quite a new
sensation when she was not being observed. And feeling the smile, she felt
as if a great weight had suddenly been dispelled. There wasn't a tinge of
regret in her that Petula wasn't Maisie. She genuinely loved the girl for
what she was, and not what she reminded her of.

She leaned over and eased her hand down between Petula's thighs to the
girl's vagina. So moist and so warm! She ran her hands through the curled
hair which was packed so tightly into a triangle. And then kissed Petula
tenderly on the forehead. Petula stirred, looked up at her lover and her
smile broadened to reveal her slightly crooked teeth between her full lips.
She sighed long and low, as the two girls followed the rhythm and pattern
of their sensual passion and were soon wrapped together, crotch pressed
against crotch, face firmly against face, arms around each other, Petula's
hands threaded through Emma's hair and Emma's hands cupped against the nape
of Petula's neck.

Emma knew that the passion that accompanied the subsequent lovemaking
was due as much to her relief that she no longer mourned her separation
from Maisie as for her feelings for Petula. She also knew that Petula knew
nothing of her thoughts. One thing she had been careful to avoid
discussing with her was her life before living in Sunbury. She also knew
that Petula recognised a new kind of reciprocity in Emma's feelings for
her, the previous lack of which had caused her so much unspoken grief, and
now with it there brought her to orgasm after orgasm that melted her body
into Emma's own, shook through her limbs like spasms of electricity and
triggered emissions of fluid from between her legs that both frightened and
delighted her.

Emma was cured. She could now face the world with fresh confidence.
Her love for Maisie was now gone like an illness, and she was more than
ready for a fresh infestation.

XLIX



Maisie found living with Tanya very different to living with Emma. For
a start, Tanya was a very different lover. She made love with men at least
as often as she did with women. She was also rather less concerned about
Maisie's education and career prospects. Maisie now had to find her own
way to school and to the studios of Harlot TV. Perhaps, Maisie thought, it
was just an inevitable part of growing up and looking after herself. And
then there was the fact that Maisie had nothing like the primacy in Tanya's
affections as she'd enjoyed with Emma. There were the two men who also
shared Tanya's flat and on occasion her bed. Karl and Anthony were nice
men, and both gave her the kindness that Tanya was so reluctant to give.
Maisie hadn't realised at first that they would be permanent fixtures, and
at first she'd resented their presence, particularly after she found out
that Tanya had expressly forbidden the men to touch her.

Maisie had no objection to watching men fuck each other. After all, it
was a common feature on sex television, although she found her exclusion
from the physical act slightly frustrating. But even she could see that
neither Karl nor Anthony really enjoyed it that much. It was only because
Tanya required it of them that their lips and tongues joined together and
their pricks pushed deep inside the other's arse. And Tanya was pitiless
in her demands of them: even getting them to piss on each other. And
should one of them look at Maisie, as she sat arm-in-arm with Tanya, it was
a cue for their mistress to slap them or to shout scorn at them. But
Maisie could see the men were besotted with her. They would do anything
for her pleasure, and her words of cruelty and unkindness did nothing to
lessen their yearning for her. And yet she gave them so little for their
pains. Just as she was giving less and less of her bodily passion to
Maisie.

However, every night when Tanya was there, Maisie was expected to share
her bed. Her menstrual cycle was no excuse. It might be that all that was
required of her was to lick out Tanya's vagina or to be the recipient of
the spanking on her bare behind that Tanya sometimes believed Maisie was
deserving of, although her misdemeanours were invariably extremely minor.
In some strange way, Tanya seemed to enjoy causing Maisie to cry at the
unfairness of it all and to watch her discomfort when her protestations of
love were returned only with sternness and unsympathetic sneers. But at
the same time, Tanya was very demanding, wanting to know exactly what
Maisie had been doing and with whom. The sex which she performed as part
of her job was alternately praised and used as an excuse for punishment:
the very inconsistency of Tanya's response both puzzling and upsetting her.

And then there were the men that Tanya brought back with her in the
evening. Sometimes women, but usually men. They were not the most
attractive men that Maisie had ever met, and she was confused as to why a
woman as beautiful as Tanya, with the ability and skill to fuck with
whomsoever she liked, would choose to have sex with middle-aged, fat,
sometimes even ugly men. Some were older than Tanya's own father. They
were often thoroughly incompetent in their lovemaking, frequently releasing
their semen far too soon, and thrusting in and out of Tanya's vagina or
arse with a monotonous predictability.

And it wasn't only Tanya they fucked. However much Maisie might have
wished otherwise, she would always be brought into the lovemaking, often on
Tanya's express instructions. "Open your legs, Maisie sweetest!" Tanya
would say with a tone of love and affection so often lacking when there
were no guests. "Open your cheeks, so we can get inside your arse!" Tanya
would whisper with a pleasant kiss on Maisie's lips. "Put the whole of the
cock in your mouth, Maisie darling! Not just the tip!"

Maisie was so won over by Tanya's show of passion and love on these
occasions, that she sometimes forgot that the one who would be doing the
thrusting and groping and fucking and buggering, and covering her bare
breasts with kisses and sometimes nibbling her toes, was not Tanya, whom
she loved, but a man she'd never met before, was rarely likely to see
again, and was invariably unattractive and often very smelly. She got used
to the rough feel of chin stubble on the vagina that Tanya insisted she
shave, to make her look even younger. She was accustomed to the thrust of
thick and short, long and thin, fat and stubby, penises thrusting into her,
admittedly stiff, but not necessarily satisfying. Nowhere near as expert
as the pricks whose taste she enjoyed in her professional capacity.

And the men treated her like a child. Not one of them treated her like
a grown girl, with a career, deserving respect. She was always 'dearie',
'sweetie', 'little girl', and she began realising that it was her real, and
her even younger apparent, youth that they were keen on. The thought of
fucking a child was what they all enjoyed in her, as they slobbered over
her, forced their rough hairy hands into her shaven crotch, prised open her
anus with their nicotine-stained fingers. And gradually, she came to
realise that these men, so pathetic and unappealing in bed, were senior
people in the world of television and the media. Tanya was exchanging
sexual favours for the more material favours they could provide for her.
And not all of them were producers, executives, directors or whatever in
the world of sex television. Some were prominent in the world of more
mainstream entertainment, and at least one was actually a politician. Or
at least he looked very much like a junior politician Maisie saw
interviewed on mainstream television one day. And those in the mainstream
media were often the ones most perverse in bed: the ones who liked pissing on Maisie or masturbating while Tanya lay her on her lap and spanked her on
her reddening cheeks.

Maisie only gradually became aware that it was the promise of sex with
her at least as much as with Tanya herself that had attracted the men to
Tanya's bed. In some cases, it was sex with her alone that was the
attraction. One man with a face and body like some disgusting turtle spent
the whole evening wanking while groping around on her bare body, and then
finally spurting his wad of semen on her face and licking it off with his
big slobbery tongue. Another was only interested in her arse and pushed
his prick in deep long before Maisie was in any sense prepared for it, and
grunted with extra pleasure as Maisie cried from the pain of it all.

Maisie had no way of knowing how well rewarded Tanya was for the favours
she, and most particularly Maisie, were giving so freely. She knew she
didn't really enjoy it, and she particularly didn't like it when one man actually shat right on her face. Fuck! It was disgusting! But she could
see that Tanya was profiting from it. Her career was in a hyperbolic
trajectory, soon leaving behind the world of sex entertainment for the more
lucrative rewards of fame and fortune of the mainstream world. She even
recorded a record which sold very well despite the rather poor quality of
its musical content. She was featured in mainstream magazines and
interviewed in rather fawning terms in glossy celebrity papers. All the
while, her designer clothes became steadily more elegant, the restaurants
she ate in became increasingly exclusive, and she was in the process of
buying a very opulent apartment in a very expensive district of the city.
And all the while, Maisie felt no better off than before. The wealth that
she had was only the wealth that she'd earned, and much of that went to
Tanya to help pay her keep. In many ways, her life was actually more
deprived than before. Tanya no longer took Maisie out with her to the
night-clubs and restaurants they used to frequent. And her life became
hemmed in by work, school and the sexual demands of Tanya and her male
lovers.

Maisie looked at Karl and Anthony with fresh sympathy. Never praised,
never given an encouraging word, frequently humiliated. Sometimes, Karl or
Anthony would be tied by a chain to the end of the bed while the other
lover was being buggered by Tanya. On one occasion, Maisie herself was
instructed to bugger the two men, one after the other, while they were
biting and sucking at each other's prick under Tanya's stern watchful eye,
always ready to give fresh instruction to deepen their humiliation. On
occasions such as this, Maisie wondered what pleasure it was giving to
Tanya. She wasn't showing any sexual satisfaction as Maisie's long black
dildo thrust in and out of Karl's arse, his mouth around the stiffening
mass of Anthony's prick. Even when both Anthony's prick and her dildo
crammed into Karl's complaining anus, she showed only a strange kind of
grim satisfaction. And on those moments, Maisie felt she was just like the
two men: simply sex toys for Tanya's perverse pleasures.

She didn't see her friends very often. In fact, although Tanya didn't
exactly forbid her from doing so, she made plain that she preferred Maisie
stay at home in the evenings so that she was available for whatever visitor
she had planned for that night. So it was by chance that Maisie met Susan
and Rosemary in the city centre one day while she was window-shopping in
the high street. Susan was wearing a long tee-shirt which came to just
below her hips, while Rosemary wore a plain grey skirt and a specially
designed blouse which held her breasts up in a way which both contained and
displayed them.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Maisie had to ask how Emma was.
"Oh! She's fine, I think," replied Susan. "Well, I haven't seen her for a
long time. Not since Charlotte's wedding, but I spoke to Charlotte the
other day. She and Josephine and, of course, darling baby Thomas are now
living in Emma's house. Where you used to live before you started living
with Tanya. We went to the house and chatted about things. Babies mostly.
Emma's gone off to a naturist resort to do whatever naturists do. Meditate
or whatever. Sunborough, I think it's called. She lost her job at the
television station you know."

"I know," admitted Maisie sadly, feeling ever so much the guilty party.
"But Emma's alright? I heard she was dreadfully depressed."

"She was," Susan agreed, "but I think she's got over it now. But
anyway, how're you? How is it living in the centre of the city?"

"It's very nice," said Maisie, but not with a lot of enthusiasm.

"Hmm!" said Susan. "Come on. Let's have a coffee and a chat. I
insist."

"I've got to get back," said Maisie unconvincingly.

"Nonsense, come along. My treat."

Susan and Rosemary took Maisie to a small coffee shop, and the three sat
down around two cafe lattes and a cappuccino. As they sat down, Susan took
Maisie's hand in her own, and smiled at the girl sympathetically.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look quite sad? Is life with Tanya
all that you thought it would be?"

"It's not as good as it was."

"Really. Tell me. What's the reason for that?"

For the first time since she'd left Emma, Maisie found someone she could
talk to and the relief of it was like the lifting of a colossal weight.
She told Susan and Rosemary about how she no longer went out with Tanya to
the night clubs. How she now had to pay for her keep. How she had sex
with all the horrible men and women that Tanya brought back. How she felt
she was being treated as badly as Anthony and Karl. How she was feeling
quite sad that she'd left Emma.

"And do you want to go back to Emma?" asked Rosemary, who didn't really
know either of the girls that well. They'd met briefly at the wedding and
that was all. She had thought though that Maisie was awfully young to be a
lover of someone like Emma, but she'd got used to quite a few different
lifestyles and relationships since her own had began with Susan.

"I don't think it's right that I would," Maisie sniffed. "Not after I
hurt her so much. I think I should stay with Tanya."

"Are you sure, Maisie sweetest?" worried Susan. "She doesn't sound like
she's looking after you at all well. I know some people like the kind of
treatment you're getting, and I guess those two men, Anthony and Karl,
probably do. You often meet people like that in my industry. But you're
not like that are you?"

"Like what?" wondered Maisie. Rosemary also frowned quizzically.

"Well ... never mind ..." Susan replied blushing slightly. "Perhaps
... I don't know ... I mean, Emma was sometimes quite rough ..." She could
feel her words tangling as she tried to express delicately what she meant.
"Well, whatever. If it gets too much for you. And it sounds like it
might, just come and stay in my flat. You can sleep in Rosemary's bed.
After all, you're hardly ever in it, are you Rosemary darling?"

Now it was Rosemary's turn to blush, which she did startlingly readily,
a hot reddening spreading over her cheeks and her breasts. "Hardly ever,"
she whispered in embarrassed, but rather pleased, agreement.

Maisie felt curiously lifted after her chat with the two lovers. The
pleasure of finding another option in her life gave her a renewed sense of
freedom which the last few months had been gradually seeping away from her.
Tanya had better look out, she thought. There was no way she could speak
to Tanya about her discomfort about living together. She never really
asked Maisie how she felt and, indeed, from her there mostly only came
demands which she made with no suggestion that there was ever any other
alternative. There were never occasions when she chatted to Maisie about
what she wanted. Even when they were together, making love with no one
there, it was always a question of what Tanya wanted and what Maisie could
give her. Maisie realised that in some strange way she was quite afraid of
Tanya. And she was still very much attracted to her. Tanya was never less
than beautiful, and she comported herself in such a way that it accentuated
the power of her physical charms.

There was certainly no let up in Tanya's demands. That evening was
spent in a long gruelling session with Anthony and Karl, at one time with
both men's penises in her mouth. Then guiding Karl's penis into Anthony's
arse while Tanya buggered Karl from behind, biting him quite ferociously on
his neck, while her buttocks hammered back and forth into his rear. And
the following night, Maisie was tied to the bed by silk cords tied to her
wrists, her legs also pulled apart by silk cords around her ankles, while a
large hairy man who produced films for a large educational film company,
pushed his large hairy prick in and out of her arse. All the while, Tanya
was pinching her nipples so that she called out in pain, and nibbled the
producer's own nipples hidden under a mass of wiry hair.

And then there was the financier who pissed on Maisie while she sat in
the bath with her hands tied behind her back and Tanya pushing a not
especially large dildo up the arse that must have been somewhere between
his flabby buttocks. And the woman, who must have been in at least her
fifties, who didn't take her glasses off while Maisie and Tanya nibbled
around the foul-tasting thin hair of her vagina. And the evening where
Maisie's foot was tied by a short lead to a chair, while Tanya, Anthony and
Karl pleasured a somewhat gross man with an almost totally bald head and a
stomach which had to be physically lifted for his penis to be revealed.

Finally, enough was enough. It might have been because she was
especially fed up while washing traces of shit and piss out of her hair
after a night with a thin man with a long thin prick that nevertheless
never seemed to get a hard-on. It might have been as a result of the
rather sour comments Tanya made while Maisie was listening to one of her
records. It might have been because she'd had a particularly bad day at
work, where, for some reason, there was just no passion to her lovemaking.
Maisie was just not finding on-screen fellatio agreeable, and was not sorry
when the attentive producer substituted her lovemaking with one of her
guests by one of her more junior co-presenters.

As soon as Tanya, Anthony and Karl were out of the house, and before the
maid came round to tidy up, Maisie hurriedly packed her possessions into
her suitcases and called a taxi. She hesitated over leaving a note for
Tanya. In fact she composed her leaving note for several hours in her
head, but then, with a wicked smile, she reasoned that no explanation at
all was much more likely to upset Tanya than any note. Whatever she wrote
would probably sound peevish and a bit weak. Saying nothing at all would
betray no weakness at all. As Maisie got into the taxi and was driven off
to Susan's flat, having checked first that Susan would be there to meet her
when she arrived, she looked back at where she'd lived all these past few
months and was slightly ashamed to recognise that her feelings towards
Tanya now resembled hatred rather than love.

And soon she was with friends again. Both Susan and Rosemary were there
to welcome her, to carry her bags into the flat, to show her up to
Rosemary's room which had been tidied up for, and to shower her with tea
and cookies. Despite her feelings of guilt of leaving Tanya unannounced in
this way, she felt a degree of elation at being free from her that was
almost frightening.

Susan and Rosemary took Maisie out for a night out in the city, which
included a night club playing just the sounds that she was enjoying so much
these days: pumping, jumping, slamming and kicking. Susan and she
oscillated together under the bright lights, neither wearing very much, in
a mass of sweaty shiny bodies under the strobing lights, able only to mouth
to each other whatever they wanted to say. And in Maisie's case, it was
mostly: "I'm happy! I'm so happy!"

Rosemary was less happy. She'd never really enjoyed noisy, brash places
like this, and she didn't enjoy the drugs and drink very much either. But
she was pleased to see Susan's young friend free from the tyranny of her
life with Tanya, and quite enthusiastic about sharing the flat with another
person.

And not just the flat, as Rosemary discovered when they got back, Maisie
and Susan wrapping their naked bodies around each other. At first Rosemary
was a little put out as Maisie's tongue sought out Susan's, and the two
clung to each other, flat breasts squeezed so close together, Maisie's long
curls obscuring the two girls' faces, and Susan's long neck curving
swan-like to the base of her short, boyish hair. Even as Maisie's hands
probed for Susan's shaven vagina, and a finger so easily slipped through
the moistness of its entrance, Susan was always mindful of her lover,
Rosemary.

She eased Maisie off her, despite the girl's protests, and smiled to
Rosemary. "Come on, Rosie! Take off your clothes and join us!"

Rosemary nodded, and Maisie watched with no little interest as she undid
the buttons of her blouse and unstrapped her bra. Her enormous bosom fell
out from their confines, many times larger than Maisie's and Susan's
breasts put together. So large, and round, and weighty, and pink, if a
little freckled towards the top. And the nipples. Larger than many
women's entire breast. Crenellated, detailed, and, now, of course, fully
erect, the nipple clearly indented towards a crater towards the centre,
around which were the aureole redness of the rest of its glory. So
different from the small, permanently hard nipples of the girls who'd had
their breasts surgically enhanced. And a warm, bouncy, fleshy mass. Not
hard and rigid like a football, but soft and welcoming. As Rosemary
shuffled across the bed on her knees, Maisie immediately leapt onto her
breasts, anxious to have as close a feel as she could.

They felt as homely as they looked. Underneath they weighed so much,
but they rested easily on her palms, while she lifted the mass of it up, so
that her tongue and teeth could better explore all that it had to offer.
What bliss! What joy! Her mouth was almost filled by the nipple which had
some of the hardness of a small erect penis, but tasted much better, much
more delectable, with none of that strange smell that pricks sometimes gave
off. And the texture of such a large nipple on her tongue was another
sensation altogether. The details of the bumps and crenellations of the
nipple was a texture far superior than that even Emma's apple-like breasts or Susan's perky nipples had to offer.

As she engulfed herself in Rosemary's bosom, she could feel Susan's
fingers probing her crotch. One, then two fingers sliding easily in her
shaven vagina, and, for extra pleasure, a thumb easing into her anus. At
the same time, Susan was kissing Rosemary full on the mouth, while her
lover gasped and groaned from the delight of familiar pleasure. And soon,
the three were rolling around on the bed, tongues in each others' crotches,
fingers everywhere, their flesh as shiny and sweaty from passion as they
had been in the night club from the exertions of dancing.

Maisie looked up at the red hairs of Rosemary's vagina which both she
and Susan were exploring and exciting with their tongues, and smiled as she
saw that familiar tremor of excitement erupt from inside Rosemary, her
vaginal juices squirting out without restraint, to be eagerly lapped by her
two small-breasted lovers. Then she smiled at Susan, whose face smiled at
her, her ivory skin in the broad grin that so much suited her. She leaned
over and kissed Susan passionately on the lips. She was so happy now. And
all this time, she'd stayed with Tanya! How could she have ever been so
stupid? She grabbed Susan tightly, almost roughly, and her passion and
gratitude erupted in her vaginal orgasms which seemed to melt the very
essence of her being.

L



Dalitha and Salim were wrapped together in Salim's bed: Dalitha's dark,
small body entangled in Salim's chocolate, long lithe frame, legs
intertwined, breast on breast, sweat dripping onto sweat. Dalitha was
again exhausted but still insatiable, a young appetite for sex that Salim
found very difficult to keep up with. She could still taste the slightly
sour juice of her niece's vaginal juices on her tongue, and enjoyed
Dalitha's fingers probing around her still sore crotch, still moist but
covered with the crumbs of the drying embers of earlier orgasms. She held
Dalitha's head by her arms and pressed the girl's face close to hers, the
warm breath from the younger girl's mouth blowing pleasantly on her cheeks.
"Do you love me?" Salim asked pleadingly, hoping for an unambiguous
declaration of passion, but as always disappointed by the girl's uncertain
reply.

"I love making love with you," Dalitha said with the seriousness of a
young girl, "but I don't know if it's love I feel."

As always, Salim was disheartened. She loved Dalitha, just as she loved
Amna, but somehow it seemed that whatever it was that made someone love
someone else, she didn't have enough of it. And it wasn't as if the sex
wasn't good. Well, it was certainly good for her. She leaned back to
stare at the light shade on the ceiling while Dalitha rolled on top of her,
two fingers still stroking the dark brown hairs of Salim's crotch.

"I do love you, Auntie," Dalitha said, not wishing to upset her lover,
"but it's not like what I think love should be. It's not like in the
films. It's a different kind of love. A more sister-like love."

And talking about her sister, the door eased open and Amna entered the
bedroom. It was early morning and the girl had just returned from an
exhausting evening out with Fluff in a night club, buoyed up by narcotics,
music and company. She was still buzzing with energy, desperate for more
conversation, as she burst into the bedroom, naked as always, her breasts still unnaturally perky and a shadow spreading over a crotch that hadn't
needed shaving for several days.

"Why hello, Amna," greeted Salim as she saw her older niece hovering by
the door. "How was your night?"

"Fine! Fine!" said Amna dismissively. "I didn't know Dalitha was
here." In fact, Amna was quite disappointed. After Fluff had left with two
porn-stars of her acquaintance, neither of which were to Amna's taste, and
this was based on experience on the studio mattress, she was actually
looking forward to sinking into the arms of her aunt. And here was her
pesky sister.

"She's been here all night," said Salim. "We've been watching videos haven't we?" They weren't videos much to Salim's own taste: altogether too
violent and relied too heavily on special effects, but Dalitha enjoyed them
and that was the main thing.

"And not just watching videos," commented Amna bitterly.

"Come now, Amna. You've got to think about your sister. Look! Why not
just lie down next to us. That should be alright."

Amna sighed. She guessed that would have to do. She sat down on the
other side of Salim from Dalitha, swung her legs around, and lay next to
her. Salim was in sudden and unexpected heaven. Here on either side of
her were the two girls she loved most in the world, an arm around Amna who
pressed her nicotine-smelling face onto Salim's shoulder and an arm around
Dalitha, whose hand was gently stroking Salim's thigh and smiling into her
bosom. Salim grinned broadly, moving her head languidly from side-to-side
as she looked at one niece and then the other. The feel of warm, dark
flesh filled her heart with pleasure and a strange elation.

She felt herself falling to blissful sleep, Dalitha's small hand still
stroking her thigh, when she felt somewhat stronger fingers beginning to
probe inside her. Ah! That must be Amna, smiled Salim half-opening her
eyes to see her niece bent over her. Salim hooked Amna closer to her, so
that her fingers dangling over Amna's breast could tweak on her beloved's
nipples, which she was pleased to find were hard, stiff and excited. This
itself aroused passion in Salim, who bent her mouth over to Amna's mouth,
greedily taking her tongue and lips into hers. All the while, she could
feel Dalitha's weaker fingers also exploring her, pinching her clitoris
between forefinger and thumb, and her mouth and tongue trail over her
breast.

And then the three of them gradually became one, with Salim the willing
centre of it all, her mouth and lips greedily giving, and her flesh happily
receiving, two sets of hands exploring her crotch and breasts, as she
shared as best she could her attentions between two girls. Her tongue
explored the nerves behind Dalitha's knee, her fingers the space between
the arse and vagina, while around her, her breasts were licked and sucked,
her vagina probed and moistened, often not sure whose tongue or whose
fingers were doing what to her, and sometimes, her face deep in dark skin,
able only indistinctly to know whose flesh she too was exploring so
intimately. The lovemaking was languorous, relaxed and without urgency,
lacking direction or purpose, just a pleasant end to the evening.

At least, that's how Salim thought it would be. But then she became
aware of the liquid sloshing sound of two mouths battling together, while
two hands were still exploring her vagina, and her own tongue was threading
through the dense black hairs of Dalitha's vagina. At first, Salim gave no
thought to it. After all, she and Fatima had frequently made love with
Amna, and she'd often heard that sound, and its occasional strangled moans,
as tongue grappled with tongue. But then the enormity of it suddenly
struck her, and she opened her eyes wide open and gazed at the two dark
figures arched above her. It was true. Amna and Dalitha were kissing each
other, their arms around each other and wrapped in each other's long black
hair.

Salim was about to protest, but she found herself quite excited by it,
despite herself, and applied her tongue to Dalitha's vagina with renewed
vigour, grabbing her own crotch with her fingers, urgently masturbating
herself as she crouched over, her arse up in the air. And indeed the
excitement continued to rise, as she and Amna both shared lapping away at
Dalitha's crotch while the young girl groaned and swayed with rhythms of
ecstasy. Amna smiled eagerly at Salim, pausing occasionally to press her
tongue and lips into her aunt's mouth. And the lovemaking continued, the
three bodies become increasingly indistinguishable from each other.
Sometimes two mouths at Dalitha's crotch and then, all change, as Dalitha
and Salim busied themselves on Amna's stubbly vulva. Despite herself,
Salim climaxed without restraint, and then, before her trembling body could
recover, another spasm of passion swept through her. And then another.
And at various times she could sense similar eruptions of orgasm rising
within one or other of her two nieces.

And then finally, the three were sated, sweat and saliva and vaginal
juice shared and sticking to each other as they collapsed on top of each
other, too hot and too exhausted to do anything than gasp and pant as they
recovered from their exertions. And it was at this stage, and perhaps
belatedly that guilt set in, as Salim regarded her two nieces wrapped
together and exchanging the odd kiss, their legs tangled with her own, and
their breasts against each other, Amna's rather larger ones against
Dalitha's budding but stiff nipples. Surely, this was more than a step too
far, mused Salim, sorrowful that she'd not shown more moral fibre in
separating the two sisters when the passion of their lovemaking had
exceeded their prudence, and feeling very remorseful that it was she who
had been the catalyst for this incest.

And then, guilt gave way to jealousy as she observed the depth of the
two sisters' feelings for each other. So unnatural but not unexpected, as
the two girls hands and lips continued their exploration of each other, no
longer concerned about Salim's presence.

"Oh! Amna! I love you!" gasped Dalitha, uttering without prompting the
words which Salim had so eagerly wanted to hear the girl say about herself.
Salim blushed from her forehead to her nipples, but there was nothing now
that she could do. The deed was done, and she was at least as
reprehensible as anyone else.

"Dalitha! You can't say that!" said Amna, but without conviction.
"It's Auntie Salim you love. And I love Fluff. And anyway you're my
sister. What would our parents say?"

Dalitha wept slightly, and sat up on the bed. She turned to Salim who
was lying down, with her head on the pillow, and kissed her aunt tenderly
on the lips. "Yes, I do love Auntie Salim. But with you, I don't know,
it's different." She gasped as a spasm of lust ran through her torso and
wobbled her young buttocks. She pushed her lips onto Amna's artificially
enhanced bosom, and sucked at one nipple and then the other with a hunger
that frightened Amna as much as it startled Salim. "I do love you, Amna!
And I don't care what anyone thinks. I think I must have always loved you.
And admit it, Amna. You must always have loved me, or this wouldn't have
happened."

"I almost wish it hadn't," sighed Amna, echoing Salim's thoughts, but
nonetheless making no moves to dissuade her sister from pursuing her
attentions. "From now on, it's going to be very different between us."

As indeed it was. Salim again began to feel marginalised in the
merry-go- round of lovemaking that went on under her roof. Amna made love
with Dalitha. Fluff made love with Amna. Sometimes, Fatima made love with
Amna too, but never with Fluff. And Salim sometimes made love with Amna
and Dalitha, but more often only with Dalitha, and that only when Amna
wasn't around. And sometimes she made love with Fatima. And sometimes
with both Amna and Salim.

As she considered all these permutations, Salim sometimes felt giddy and
not a little disturbed. How had it happened that she, a devout Muslim who
would never dream of displaying her hair in public, and who regularly
attended the mosque every Friday. And who had even been on a haj to the
Holy City when she was younger. How could she have become not so much the
ringmaster of all these sexual variations, with their even larger spirals
of sexual liaison beyond her flat, but in a sense its hostess and
facilitator?

Her own position seemed to become relatively weak. She no longer had
any claim to moral authority, and would find herself watching on as Amna
and Dalitha cuddled and caressed each other in front of the television,
Amna exploring in minutest detail the growing physical delights of her
sister's breasts and vagina, even allowing a finger to probe into the dark
interior of her very tight anus. And Dalitha forever fascinated by the
artificially enhanced assets of her older sister, never tiring of exploring
with her fingers and tongue what her eyes had so lovingly cherished.

It became inevitable that the sexual permutations should increase, now
that the last taboo had been breached. Fluff was the first to take
advantage of Dalitha's new- found availability, which neither Amna nor
Salim could now prohibit. How could they say that sex with Fluff was in
any way worse than sex with her sister and aunt? And Fluff was, in any
case, surprisingly tender and sympathetic with the young girl, revealing
depths of tenderness and considerateness that very nearly encouraged Salim
to revise her opinion of the woman who she still viewed as the corrupter of
her niece's morals and, worse, her chief rival in love.

Dalitha was particularly fascinated by Fluff's tattoos of pricks on her
face, arms and chest, her tongue lingering long on the over-exaggerated,
garishly coloured contours of the spurting penises, especially their tips
where wild gushes of semen were painted in orgasm. Fluff tenderly kissed
and licked Dalitha's bosom and clitoris, her white freckled tattooed body
entangled in Dalitha's slim dark body. And then with a gesture she invited
Amna over to join in as Dalitha gradually became more relaxed and more
excited. Salim watched as the two sisters and Fluff became a triangle of
sexual passion, from which, due to her dislike for Fluff, she felt totally
excluded.

Fatima was more circumspect, and it was only after several weeks that
Salim discovered that she too had found pleasure in her niece's body.
Fatima continued to represent Amna's assets in the film industry, and Salim
was frightened that she might start viewing Dalitha in the same way, a
proposal Salim would never condone. However, she came home one day from
work to find Fatima's clothes laid out neatly in the wardrobe, and to hear
the sounds of lovemaking emanating from Amna's bedroom, Salim dashed
upstairs to find Fatima and Dalitha rolling around on the bed with no sign
of Amna. She later found out that it was through Amna that Dalitha had met
her niece's agent, and that the lovemaking that Fatima was now enjoying
with Dalitha was not at all for the first time.

Salim hovered by the door as she watched Dalitha licking Fatima's
vagina, her slim knees parted on either side, still wearing stilettos and
gasping with pleasure. Fatima spotted her, and with a smile indicated that
Salim should join them. At first, Salim was unsure. Shouldn't she feel
angry that her best friend was making love to her niece in this way? But,
seeing no better solution, she eased off her clothes, and joined the two
girls on the bed, her tongue actively probing Fatima's mouth and lips, and
her fingers with Fatima's within the tight folds of Dalitha's vulva.

For Dalitha, this new active sex life of hers was a great revelation.
She'd got used to Salim's own style of lovemaking, not to mention the
scents of her body, the feel of her flesh and the taste of her vagina.
Now, she was enjoying quite different sensations from different bodies, and
enjoying them all. Her hunger for variety and change was growing, at the
same time as she became aware of limits she wasn't at all sure she wanted
to traverse. For instance, much as she enjoyed the sight and taste of
Fluff's tattooed penises, she wasn't at all convinced that her tender young vagina was ready for that sort of penetration. Indeed, even the
penetration of fingers, whether at her front or her rear, already stretched
her orifices to a point of pain which she was reluctant to take further.
And, anyway, penises belonged to men, and she wasn't sure she wanted to get
to know one of those in that sort of way.

Furthermore, she was unsure that she was so happy that all her lovers
were older than her: and in Salim's case a lot older than her. Wouldn't it
be better to make love with someone more her age? Someone who knew what it
was like to be a teenager, and who shared her own adolescent interests and
tastes. Much as she enjoyed making love to Salim and Amna, there was a
distinct sense that she was very much the junior partner.

Then one evening, when visiting her aunt, she found three visitors being
entertained by Amna and Salim she'd not met before. One was a slim boyish
oriental girl, who was wearing an open waistcoat and nothing else,
revealing a chest which was remarkably flat for a fully grown woman. And
what a contrast it was with Susan's companion, who was topless, wearing
only jeans, who had the most enormous pair of bosoms Dalitha had ever seen.
She was sure she'd seen pictures of breasts like these, but in the flesh
they were truly awesome. Each one was significantly larger than her own
head, with nipples that themselves were larger than the span of her hand.

And with Susan and Rosemary, and totally naked, was a girl about the
same age as her, with long curls of hair spread over her slim bare
shoulders, and cascading down between the sharp angles of her shoulder
blades. She turned to smile at Dalitha, pleased to see someone her own
age. Dalitha smiled back.

After being introduced to Maisie, Dalitha and she sat together, both
unclothed and chatted about school, programmes they watched on television
and records they'd bought, finding great areas of mutual interest, but not
daring to broach the subject of how come they knew the people they knew,
and how much their lifestyles resembled each other. Maisie had become more
self-confident after leaving Tanya, but she still felt a vague feeling of
discomfort in the subject of sex since her ordeals, mostly enjoying only
the attention of Susan and Rosemary when not making love in a professional
capacity.

However, when she placed a hand on Dalitha's knee, and the young black
girl made no attempt to move it off, and indeed smiled at Maisie quite
encouragingly, she knew how the evening would progress. Indeed, as the
others fussed over preparing dinner and opening bottles of wine, the two
girls began tentatively exploring each other. Maisie's mouth descended on
Dalitha's and her arm embraced Dalitha's waist. Dalitha responded with an
involuntary gasp of pleasure as she pushed her tongue into Maisie's mouth
and the two started kissing each other passionately, their young warm
bodies reflecting heat off each other.

Salim watched indulgently, while standing next to Susan by the door to
the kitchen, an empty wine glass in one hand and a dish cloth in the other.
She sighed as she saw Dalitha finding yet another lover other than herself
with whom to share her body. Susan noticed her sigh, and tenderly stroked
Salim's long naked back.

"Maisie's been quite lonely for a while," Susan remarked to Salim.
"Don't you think it's good that she's found someone her own age to keep her
company?"

"I suppose so," agreed Salim, who couldn't help the pangs of jealousy
rise within her. Why is it she could never have an exclusive lover? Why
did she have to share her love?

"Salim, don't be sad," whispered Susan, sensing some distress in her
friend. She took the dish cloth and wine glass from Salim's hand, and
placed it on the table. She put her arms around Salim, ignoring the stares
from Amna and Rosemary who were, for different reasons, unhappy with Susan
spending too much time with Salim. Susan kissed Salim tenderly on the
lips, and then after a brief test of Salim's crotch to see how moist she
was, discreetly guided her to the bedroom where she used her skill and
artistry to distract Salim's thoughts from Dalitha.

As the two lay together after only a few minutes of rather mad,
uncoordinated lovemaking, Susan brushed away the tears that Salim had
allowed to burst forth now that her emotional barriers were lowered. "I
can see that you're jealous of Dalitha, just as you were jealous of Amna.
But surely you can see that it's better for her to be with someone like
Maisie? You