The last time I saw her, she had been a gawky twelve-year-old, stuck awkwardly between childhood and womanhood. That was eight years ago. The difference took my breath away.

I was fifty-three, and five years widowed. It had been a happy though childless marriage; but for several years before Phil died I had experienced feelings of growing curiosity about sex with a woman. I had done nothing positive about this, but found myself, casually at first, increasingly looking at women in malls and supermarkets and in places like our local library. Sometimes I daydreamed about those who particularly attracted me.

After Phil’s death in a road accident, I switched off sexually for a while as I struggled to keep running the successful events management business that he and I and had built together. I think I would have given up had it not been for Sarah – a late-40s, divorced, very attractive and very actively bisexual businesswoman whom I met at a party and who subsequently became my business partner, great personal friend, confidante – but never my lover. (“Laura,” she once said firmly, after admitting over a third glass of wine that she found me attractive, “my experience is that mixing sex with work or business is usually a Really Bad Idea”).

It was Sarah who not only saved me from a breakdown and the business from collapse, but who also liberated me from my hesitation to follow my growing attraction to women, by introducing me to my first lesbian lover.

Zoe was some ten years younger than I, but very experienced, very skilled, very patient, and very loving. I had always felt quite satisfied with my sex life with Phil, but through Zoe I learned so much about my own body and its capacity for pleasure that I had never known before. It was a very special first time for both of us – I was her first lesbian virgin; and although she later moved to another part of the country we still cherish fond memories and keep in touch, sometimes physically.

Thanks to Zoe and Sarah I found my feet in the local lesbian scene and in the world of online no-strings-attached dating sites, and learned to better know myself sexually - also to know what kind of woman particularly attracted me.

My preferred partners were of an age similar to mine, sometimes even older, with as much or more experience as myself. I rarely went for much younger women unless they were “my type” – nice big breasts like my own that I could get hold of and play with, a nicely rounded butt and a tasty shaven cunt with a nice big clit.

My first experience with such a younger woman was in a threesome weekend with 40-something Megan and her 20-something girlfriend Helen.

Helen was, in an admittedly much overused word, stunning: rich, long auburn hair, green eyes, flawless creamy skin, breasts that were just the right side of pendulous with deliciously mouthful-sized areolas, a butt to die for, and a beautiful cunt whose silky-smooth labia had the succulent look of some ripe exotic fruit. And oh the taste and the juiciness of that fruit when those lips opened! She had a slightly husky voice that sent shivers into my very core, and just to hear her crying out when she had one of her deliciously gushing orgasms was like hearing heavenly music.

Her breasts were not just for ornament or for me to play with – she used them almost like sex toys when making love. The feel of those luscious tits brushing against my skin when she rode me, or when she strapon-fucked me from behind, took me to new heights of arousal. And she could send me into orbit when, parting my labia, she thrust one of her nipples deep inside me and gave me an energetic titfuck.

We had numerous repeats of that first threesome until the two of them moved to the North Island – to Auckland, the commercial (as distinct from the political) capital of New Zealand and some ninety minutes by air from my home town of Christchurch. Not long after that, Helen went to work in London.

Megan and I occasionally got together when I had business in Auckland, but my experience of Helen and the delights of her body had awakened in me a new taste for much younger women and girls – a taste that gradually turned into a seethingly lustful hunger. The sight of a gaggle of young women out for a girly night in a bar would send my pulse and my breathing into overdrive and make my clit twitch and my nipples tingle. I would trawl the internet for images and videos of young girls with bodies like Helen, and masturbate furiously to those that especially turned me on.

It was a hunger I rarely did anything to assuage. Helen, I was convinced, had been something of an exception, and it was only through Megan that I'd had her at all. Unless they made the first move, I found it hard to accept that another woman of her youth and with her beauty could be attracted to the horny old dyke I told myself I was looking at whenever I confronted myself in my bedroom mirror. I still had as much fun as ever with women of my own age but, when I looked at the nubile bodies of the daughters of some of my friends, I had to struggle to hide the longing that welled up inside me.

And then…

It was a summer Saturday evening. I was at a barbecue at the home of Keith and Myra Catesby, two old family friends, and was bantering defensively with a male guest of a certain age who was trying to chat me up, when a young woman I didn’t immediately recognize emerged from the house into the spacious garden carrying a large platter of food.

I felt a momentary flash of disapproval at the sight of the very abbreviated and frayed denim shorts she was wearing, but that vanished as the full force of her beauty struck me. A tight blue top, beneath which a white bra was faintly visible, strained to contain a sumptuous bosom, then tapered to end just above an exquisitely slender bare midriff; long and luxuriant chestnut hair framed exquisitely moulded features, As she bent to place the platter on the trestle table on which other dishes had been arranged, I caught a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. Then she straightened up, saw me and flashed a ravishing smile. Instinctively I smiled back, even though I was still wondering who she was.

“Oh my,” I exclaimed, breaking off from the conversation I had been having, “who is that lovely young woman?”

“Ah, that’s Sue-Ann, our hosts’ niece. She’s come up from Dunedin to spend some of her summer holiday with them. Aha, you didn’t recognize her?” The man I’d been talking with had noticed the amazement that must have been plainly visible on my face.

“No,” I admitted, “it’s been a very long time…”

She was walking towards me now, still with that smile on her face. “Hello, Mrs Newsome,” she said as she reached me, holding out her hand quite formally.

“Hello, Sue-Ann,” I replied, taking her hand between mine, relishing the feel of its firm softness, and leaning forward to kiss her cheek, “what a beautiful young woman you have become. Please, call me Laura.”

She turned her head to return the kiss, leaning into me and putting her left arm round my neck so that I felt the soft but firm pressure of her breasts against my body. As she drew away from me, she turned her head so that, for a brief moment, her mouth brushed against mine.

“Wow, you’re sure it’s okay to call you Laura?”

“Yes, my dear, of course it is. You’re one of the grown-ups now.”

“But you still recognized me? That’s awesome!”

I confessed how I had come to know who she was – but that didn’t take the smile off her face.

“It means a lot to me to hear you say I’m beautiful,” she said. “I used to have a big crush on you – thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I still think you look gorgeous.” She gave me that smile again, sending tingling sensations all through my body.

“Thank you, Sue-Ann,” I heard myself say. “That’s such a nice compliment to a woman my age.”

She was about to say something in reply when Myra called out to her, and she said, “Sorry, I have to go and help Auntie Myra now. But I’ll catch up with you later.” Before going, she gave me another kiss, very near the corner of my mouth.

From time to time, in between keeping the food and drink flowing, Sue-Ann returned to my side, always standing close to me as we conversed. In between those moments, I noticed that from time to time, wherever she was, she turned to look at me; two or three times our eyes met and we exchanged smiles. I began to wonder if she might be checking me out, but then thought, “Get real, Laura – she surely won’t be interested in you that way, not in a woman more than twice her age.”

Through our snatched conversations I learned a lot about her. Far from being the bimbo that her ragged shorts had at first suggested to me, she was a well-spoken and highly intelligent young woman. She was studying for a business degree, but was already beginning to wonder how useful her degree and what she was learning would be in the real world of business, when she would have to get out there and start earning to repay her student loan.

I complimented her on her insight (I’ve seen all too many graduates with degrees in marketing turn out to be complete failures as marketers in the real world) and told her I’d be happy to mentor her and use my business contacts to help her make the transition and find her feet. She beamed gratefully, her smile sending shivers over my skin.

I learned that, no, she didn’t have a boyfriend – didn’t have much time to spare for dating – and, anyway, she lowered her voice, “Don’t tell Auntie Myra, but I’ve come to feel more interested in girls…”

I slipped an arm round her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. “My dear, there’s nothing wrong with that. And I feel honoured that you’ve confided in me.” I hoped she wouldn’t notice the tremulous feeling that had quickened my heartbeat and my breathing, and the resulting tremor in my voice.

“I don’t know why,” she murmured, “but I just feel that I could.” I felt her briefly relax against me, her arm slipping round my waist. Then she was gone again to help her aunt in the kitchen.

By now a quiet turmoil was beginning in my mind and my senses. The delicious roundnesses of her breasts and butt, her shapely thighs, slender waist, flawless creamy skin, and her oh-so-kissable mouth and gorgeous smiling eyes, not to mention that rich cascade of chestnut hair, all combined to deliver a powerful impact. And they were reinforced by the hints of attraction that I now thought she'd been casting in my direction.

I wanted her. And I had three weeks in which to find a way to have her.

A plan started to form in my head. After all, I’m not an events manager for nothing!

A new convention centre was soon to open in Nelson, a city at the northern end of the South Island. I had received an invitation for two to an inaugural event planned for the following weekend by the centre management to open the new facility and show it off. But Sarah was unable to go, and I had been intending to go on my own, taking a leisurely two days to drive up there and stopping off overnight at the whale-watching Mecca of Kaikoura. I planned to take another two days returning via an inland route, relaxing in the hot pools of Maruia Springs on the way. Now I asked Sue-Ann if she would like to accompany me - ostensibly as my “assistant.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, I’d love to!” She paused, then added, “I’d better just check with Auntie Myra, though, in case they have something planned.”

“Let’s go and see her together,” I said, taking her arm.

Myra welcomed my suggestion, but wondered if Sue-Ann had brought clothes that would be suitable for the occasion.

“Let’s go and see, shall we?” I suggested to Sue-Ann., whereupon she led me into her bedroom and closed the door.

We examined her wardrobe. She would need a business suit or something similar for daytime wear, and a cocktail dress for the evening function that was part of the weekend programme – and the clothes she had brought with her were all casual.

“No problem,” I said, “why don’t we go on a clothes-buying expedition tomorrow?”

A look of panic came over her face. “But I can’t aff..."

I quickly laid a finger on her lips. “Honey, I’d like that to be my treat. To celebrate our catching up with each other after all these years… and to celebrate your being so very lovely.”

We stood almost breast to breast, looking straight into each other’s eyes, my words hanging in a silence that was broken only by the sound of our breathing. For a moment neither of us moved; then, with exquisite slowness, our mouths met gently, separated, and then came together again with greater urgency, lips parting, tongues probing, breathing punctuated by sighs and moans. As we embraced, she gently turned her body from side to side so that the swell of those magnificent breasts rubbed softly against mine, making my nipples harden.

My hands revelled in the firm contours of her breasts and butt, and there was nothing shy or tentative about the way her hands moved caressingly over my body. She seemed to know just where to touch me to arouse me. Soon I was feeling wet between my thighs, and my right hand registered dampness in the material of her shorts.

She gave a shuddering sigh and murmured, “I still have that crush on you, Laura.”

The bed was so close, and Sue-Ann began to pull me towards it; but I stopped her, suddenly painfully aware of voices and the sound of movements elsewhere in the house. “Not right now, darling,” I whispered, “Myra might walk in.”

She nodded, breaking the embrace but leaving her hands resting on my hips.

“Tomorrow,” I breathed into her ear, kissing it. She nodded and kissed me back, murmuring, “Oh yes” into the hollow of my neck.

On the way home I struggled to concentrate on driving. My mind and body were so full, recalling the softness of Sue-Anne’s lips on mine, the scent of her, the feel of her body against mine as we embraced, the simmering of desire that she had aroused in me and the excited anticipation of its fulfilment. I kept a tight two-handed grip on the wheel - to stop myself from playing with my breasts or between my thighs. Even so, I felt a moist warmth down there.

It had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly, and I wondered if it wasn’t just a flash in the pan for her, an impulse she would think better of next morning – or even as soon as I had gone. She was so young, with so little experience of life, and I, as I reminded myself ruefully, was so much older than she. A cougar caught by a kitten – what a bloody cliché…

Just then my cellphone signalled the arrival of a text message. I pulled over to the side of the road and fished the device out of my purse to check. And my heart all but burst into a chorus of hallelujahs. Sue-Ann and I had exchanged phone numbers and email addresses before parting, and she had just messaged me: “Laura darling, so looking forward to 2morrow – xxxxx – S-A.”