Yet again I found myself having to concentrate on driving while in a state of inner turmoil. Part of me couldn’t wait to get home and feast on the soft, creamy-white body and succulent cunt of the lovely girl who sat beside me oozing sex – perhaps literally still oozing, after our bout in the changing room, but a cool voice in the back of my head was urging caution.

I had become so deeply sceptical of the possibility that any young woman like her could be attracted to me, at my age – yet this was what seemed to be happening, and here I was, already close to becoming utterly besotted with this young woman who had shown such strong desire for me. How could this be possible? How real was all this? What was it to her? I felt suddenly scared and vulnerable.

We were sitting waiting for traffic lights to change when I took my nerve in both hands and said, “This time yesterday I couldn’t have imagined that anything like this could happen.”

I heard her take a deep breath, saw her nod out of the corner of my eye. “Me too,” she said at last.

“I’m still finding it hard to believe that it’s actually happening - whatever it is, I mean…”

She stopped me.

“Let’s talk about this when we get home, okay?”

I liked the way she said “home.” The tumult within me began to subside at the quiet gravity in her voice.

I patted her arm and said “okay” as the lights changed. And I didn’t remove the wandering hand that came to rest on my thigh as I drove off.

Looking back later I marveled at the way in which, at less than half my age, Sue-Ann took control of the situation back at my house – as if I were the kitten rather than she. Almost the first thing she said was “Where’s your bedroom?” Once we were there, she pushed me down onto the bed, and was soon straddling me, her skirt about her waist, hands urgently uncovering my breasts.

“God, Laura, I love your tits,” she muttered throatily, just before her mouth greedily engulfed first one nipple, then the other.

I likewise went to work on blouse buttons and bra hooks to liberate Sue-Ann’s glorious breasts. The sight of them melted me inside and I reached out to knead them and tease her engorged nipples. She gave a long, guttural groan and began to move so that her breasts swung up and down and to and fro, brushing against my skin.

I reached with one hand down between her thighs. My fingers found overflowing wetness and plunged into its pulsating source.

Her response was instant. “Ahhh, Laura…oh yes, yes! Oh fuck, oh fuck, that feels so…ahhh…ahhh…ahhh…AHHHH…!” As her cries crescendoed, her hips started to buck and thrust, humping my hand against my right thigh, her own thigh grinding against my mound and driving my clit into throbbing paroxysms.

We came within seconds of each other, but she wasn’t done with me. She shuffled down the bed so that her head was level with my hips, and yanked my panties off. “Open wide,” she commanded, thrusting my knees apart. She got me to hook my legs over her shoulders, and the next moment she was lapping greedily at me, her tongue flickering in and out of my cunt, her nose rubbing my clit, her hands massaging my breasts, pinching and pulling at my nipples.

I don’t know how many times she made me cum. I just lay there in a state of ecstatic surrender, letting her play on me like a virtuoso on a musical instrument – any way she wanted.

At length she laid my hips down on the bed and squatted between my thighs. I had obviously squirted my juice all over her face and shoulders when cumming; she wiped it off her face with her fingers, then licked and sucked them clean.

“You taste gorgeous,” she said.

“I want to taste you too,” I replied.

She flashed a mischievous smile, smearing more of my cum-like lotion over her breasts, rubbing it into the skin surrounding her areolas and then into her nipples. “All good things come to girls who wait!” Then she reached down to her own dripping love-hole and smeared her nipples lavishly with her own juice. Finally she leaned forward, offering a nipple to my mouth. “Taste,” she invited, holding her breast to me as if I were a baby she was suckling, and cooing softly as I sucked and licked. The flavour was sweetly sour, with what I could have sworn were hints of pepper and apple sauce.

Presently, however, she leaned back and pushed my knees wide apart again.

“Laura darling,” she said, with a softly commanding note in her voice, “I want you to pull your cunt as wide open as you can.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Just do as I ask,” she said. “I want to see that cunt gaping at me so that I can see deep inside it.”

As my fingers moved to obey, I saw what she intended, and I felt myself begin to melt inside in joyous anticipation. She lifted the breast I had previously been sucking to her own mouth, licked and sucked the nipple until it stood stiffly erect, then drooled saliva over it. The next moment she had leaned forward and was rubbing it against my clit, and I was thrusting back in reflex response, moaning as waves of pleasure flooded me.

She held the breast with both hands to increase the pressure on my clit, then started to push the whole breast into my cunt, thrusting it rhythmically deeper and deeper with her whole body, grunting gutturally with each thrust. I heard myself echoing her, louder and louder as she filled me more and more with that big firm breast.

I came, shuddering violently and squirting copiously, but she didn’t stop pounding my cunt. I was close to another orgasm when at last she moved to lie between my thighs, and started to thrust powerfully with her mound grinding against mine. She pushed my legs back until my knees were close to my ears, and then we were rubbing cunt against cunt, clit against clit. I pushed against the bed with one arm and somehow rolled us over so that I was on top of her, my hips pistoning furiously; then she pushed back until she was on top of me again.

When we at last came together, it was one of the most devastating orgasms of my entire life. My body jack-knifed uncontrollably several times before I finally collapsed back on the bed, with Sue-Ann flopping convulsively on top of me like a fish that’s just been landed. We held each other close. Both of us were muttering mingled endearments and obscenities incoherently between sobs of joy and laboured, gulping breaths; both of us had aftershocks slamming through our bodies, in a tumult that went on for minutes on end, before gradually subsiding.

Presently she sat up. “We’d better finish undressing, hadn’t we?” she suggested. “We both look a real mess.”

There was no denying that. Our skirts were crumpled about our waists, and soaked with the juices we had ejaculated. Our stockings were ruined and her panties were ripped and sodden. She was naked to the waist, but my blouse and bra were still hanging off me, and my blouse was missing a couple of buttons that had flown off somewhere… Disheveled just wasn’t an adequate word for our appearance.

“You can’t go home wearing those in that state,” I said, looking at Sue-Ann holding up her skirt and panties with a comically rueful expression on her face. “Auntie Myra’s going to have a fit, isn’t she?”

“I think she’ll be a bit surprised,” Sue-Ann said, flapping her skirt in the air. “She might even guess what you and I have been up to…”

“I suppose she’d be pretty upset at the thought of her trusted friend wickedly ravaging her precious niece’s innocent body.”

“I guess she might, at that.”

“Give them to me.” I said, holding out my hand for the garments. “I’ll put them through the washing machine. They’ll be dry in no time, and I can iron the skirt before you go home.”

“No need to iron – it doesn’t crease, just needs to be tumble-dried.”

When I returned from my foray to the laundry and kitchen, bearing the remains of last night’s bottle of pinot gris and two glasses, she was sitting up on the bed propped against a pillow. I poured, handed her a glass and we clinked. “Here’s to l-l-lesbian l-l-lechery,” she intoned with a giggle as I joined her.

I poured a drop or two of wine on her further-away nipple, then bent to lick it up, enjoying her visible frisson of delight. “Now,” I said, “I want you to explain two things to me.”

“What?”

“The first is, how you happen to be so sexually confident and savvy beyond your years, that’s what.”

“Am I?”

“In my experience you are. Compared with other young women I’ve had as lovers, that is. I’ve never met a girl as wonderfully and skilfully lustful as you. Only one has tit-fucked me with anything like your expertise and vigour.”

“Wow – that makes me sound a bit special.”

“You are to me, darling.”

“Oh, Laura, I love hearing you say that. You’re special to me too. And what’s the other thing?”

“The other thing is, how come you find an old bird like me attractive?”

She took a sip of wine, rolled it around in her mouth and swallowed before replying. “The two things are related, really.”

“How?”

“It’s all thanks to my mum, I guess.”

“What! How on earth?”

“Oops – I suppose that was a naughty way of putting it. Don’t worry, I didn’t mean mum and I had an incest thing or anything like that.”

“I would hope not.”

“No, what I mean by it being thanks to her that I’m how I am sexually, is that she just accepted my fancying girls from the moment I told her and dad about it. That was when I was sixteen. Dad was a bit grumpy about it for a while, but mum was awesomely cool. She told me she’d been into girls in her mid to late teens and that some of the women who were still her best friends had been the same at that age. She said some of them had stayed gay, some were bi, and some had turned straight, which was what she hoped I would do eventually, but that whatever I did was OK with her. She said the most important thing for her was that I should grow up to have a happy sex life, and that she’d do whatever she could to help me do that.”

“What a fantastic mum. You’re very lucky.”

“I know I am. But I haven’t told you the half of it yet.”

“Oh?”

“Well, she let me have girlfriends round for sleepovers, and made sure their mums never had any idea that the sleepovers were anything other than innocent. We let the girlfriends think that mum didn’t know what we got up to. Dad just pretended not to know. She sometimes asked me about what we did together - not in a voyeuristic way; she wanted to be sure we were enjoying ourselves as much as possible. I used to ask her about things she and her girlfriends did, and she was always open about it with me. Sometimes she’d say, 'You might like to try this,' and describe something she had enjoyed doing with her girlfriends back then. She bought me my first vibrator and made sure I knew how to get and give the most pleasure possible with it.”

“Amazing! Did she ever try to influence you towards boys?”

“Not really, though one thing she did do was to make sure that I knew everything I needed to know to avoid getting pregnant if I were to have sex with a boy. She’d still hint from time to time that she’d like me to go straight or at least bi, so that she could become a granny at some stage, but she always insisted that my sexual happiness was more important to her than that. I once asked her if she wanted me to end up like her – and she said no.”

“What did you mean by ‘end up like her’?”

Sue-Ann sighed. “I know mum enjoys sex with dad, but I also know she’s really bi.

Ever since she married dad she’s suppressed her lesbian side. She told me once that she’d wanted children, she’d genuinely fallen in love with dad, and once she committed herself to being married to him, and being a mother, she was determined never to be a cheating wife – and if that meant giving up sex with women, that was what she would do. But I know she still hankers after women sometimes.”

“How do you know that?”

“She tells me. Yes, really she does. You’ve no idea what a very candid woman-to-woman relationship we have. Dad has no idea either. She sometimes tells me about women she’s seen here and there, and if we’re out together and she sees one she says things like ‘ooh, I could fancy her…’ It makes me feel sad for her.”

“It makes me sad too,” I said. “I know other women like her. I was like that too before my husband died. Well, not so much bi as bi-curious. I never did anything about it until some time after Phil’s death. Maybe if he’d lived I never would have – I had a lovely sex life with him. I don’t know…”

“I’m sorry you lost your husband,” she murmured. “But I’m so glad you wanted me.” She turned towards me and kissed me softly.

“And now,” I said, “what was that you said about your fancying me being thanks to your mum?”

“Ah, yes. Well, not long after I was seventteen, I was seduced by an older woman - very willingly, I should add. Someone who reminded me of you and my little-girl crush on you. And now you remind me of her. And mum sort of arranged it. Well, maybe not ‘arranged’ – ‘facilitated’ might be a better word.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, there was this friend of hers, Katherine. She and mum had been friends almost since they were toddlers, went to the same primary school and girls’ grammar school, and in their teens they’d been lovers. I was at the same girls’ school, and I was one of the team of students that got roped in to help at a big Old Girls’ Reunion that mum and Katherine went to. I think it was the school’s fiftieth anniversary – something important like that. Anyway, Katherine had to come down from Wellington, and she stayed with us that weekend. I liked her straightaway. More than that, actually; to tell the truth I thought she was pretty damn gorgeous.”

“And was it then that…?”

“No. There was never a hint of anything sexual that whole weekend. The next weekend, though, mum took me out shopping, and then to a nice lunch at a very expensive restaurant, as a thank-you gesture from her for my helping with the reunion. And while we were eating she sort-of-casually mentioned that Katherine had appreciated what I’d done to help, and had taken a big liking to me. And I think I said something like I thought she was very nice too. At that stage I had no idea about the past that mum and Katherine had had together.”

“So, Katherine lived in Wellington, and you were down in Dunedin… How did the two of you get together?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I’m keen on opera.”

“Goodness, no, I didn’t know that.”

“There you go, I’ve surprised you again, eh? My favourite opera is Puccini’s Tosca – full of sex, intrigue, cruelty and death, plus fabulous music. Anyway, a performance was going to be put on in Wellington during the next school holidays, and mum asked me if I’d like to go, and of course I said yes. Then a few days later mum said Katherine would love to get tickets and take me to it and to have me stay with her.

“Hmmm… Take you…and have you…” I nibbled playfully at Sue-Ann’s left nipple. She giggled and gave an equally playful wriggle in reply.

“I’m not sure that mum meant it quite like that just then. Maybe she did unconsciously. Anyway, I went up there and stayed for a week. And that week was the most beautiful time of my life so far.” She paused, then said: “Actually, Laura, I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to look back on our time together as an equally beautiful time for me.”

“Oh my darling…” I drew her close to me, kissing her mouth, her throat, covering her face with kisses. “You’re making me want to fuck you the way you’ve been fucking me…”

“Oh yes, I want you to…”

“…but first I want to hear about you and Katherine. You were just seventeen – and she must have been…”

“Same age as mum. Nearly forty.”

“A lot younger than I am now,” I said ruefully. “I should feel flattered to be compared to her.”

“Forget about comparisons. She was beautiful in her way – well, she still is - and you are in yours. Do you want to hear the rest?”

“Oh yes, darling, please…just let me kiss you first… Mmmm…”

“Well, the day I flew up to Wellington was the day before the performance. It was a Friday, and Katherine got off work early to come and meet me off my plane. It was a long journey, with a change of planes in Christchurch, and quite a wait between flights, by the time I arrived I was really tired. Katherine just let me flop. She gave me a lovely dinner and a glass of wine, then packed me off to sleep, after a nice hot bubble bath. Really pampered me, she did.”

“And that was all?”

“That night, yes. She didn’t make any moves on me, or even give a hint of being sexually interested in me. Just nicely welcoming and caring. Wanting to make me feel comfortable and make sure I had a good rest. I may have been only seventeen, but I had pretty good gaydar already by then, and I could usually tell when someone was wanting to show they were sexually interested…”

“Yes, I can imagine you could.”

“…and that night she gave not a sign. Anyway, next morning we had a lazy breakfast, and then she took me sightseeing. It was my first trip to Wellington, and she was keen to make it special for me. She was working at the House of Representatives back then, as an aide to an MP, so she was able to take me on a tour of Parliament, In the afternoon she took me on the cable car, right up to the top so that I could enjoy the view over the harbour and the bay. I can’t remember all the places she took me to. Then at last we went back to her place, had an early meal and got ready to go to the opera.”

“Was she actually interested in opera too?”

“Not just opera. She was – I mean, she is – very musical, knows a lot and plays the piano beautifully. She did that a lot during the week I was with her.”

“How did the evening go?”

“It was a marvellous performance. Not as great as La Scala or Covent Garden or the Met, of course, but pretty damn good all the same. And Katherine had bought tickets for pretty well the best seats in the house. We were both still full of it on the way home, singing snatches of arias to each other. And that was when the wonderful things started to happen. Very gradually.”

“Ah, softly-softly…”

“Yes. She lit a fire, and we sprawled in front of it on cushions, sipping mulled wine, talking about the opera, the music, the way Tosca wonders why God is letting such awful things happen to her when all she’s ever done is live for art and for love without ever harming a living soul…”

Even I knew that bit. I did my best to sing “Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore…”

She beamed at me and continued “… non feci mai male ad anima viva! Mmm, that’s right… So from that we got to talking about love more generally, then gradually about more personal stuff, and – you know what? - she was talking to me not as a grown-up to a girl but as one woman to another. That just blew me away - she was treating me with the same respect and dignity as if I were someone her own age.”

“Your mum must have told her something about you.”

“I learned some time later that she had. Anyway, there came a moment when we both fell silent. It was a long silence. I was staring into the fire; then I looked across at her. And she was looking at me with an expression I just can’t describe. Something about the curve of her mouth, the set of her eyes, the angle of her face, the play of the flames reflected on her cheeks… I don’t know. All I can say is what I felt at the time: it was a look that just radiated tenderness and enfolded me with love. And there I was, looking back into her eyes, and my heart was thumping. And then I slowly reached out a hand towards her, and she did the same, and our hands met. And then she leaned across, never taking her eyes off mine until she closed hers and kissed me very softly on my lips.”

Sue-Ann had closed her eyes. I could tell that in spirit she was far away, back in that exquisite recaptured moment, under a spell that I didn’t dare break by speaking. I kissed her mouth as softly as I knew how.

She gave a dreamy sigh in response, then went on: “Our first few kisses were very tentative, as if we were sort of sounding each other out – a bit like bridge partners making bids to signal what cards they have. Then I pulled one of her hands to one of my breasts and squeezed my nipple between her thumb and forefinger, to let her know that I wanted her to do what I knew she wanted.

“She was incredibly tender. She gave me one opportunity after another to pull back and stop if I didn’t want to go any further. When she started to undress me, she did it very gradually, and every time she exposed more of me, she covered it with kisses and caresses. And of course the kisses and caresses became more and more intimate. By the time she’d finished undressing me, she’d made me cum four times already, more intensely than anything I’d ever known.”

I was beginning to feel aroused again by her narrative; but at that moment we were brought sharply down to earth by the phone ringing. It went on, insistently, impossible to ignore.

It was Myra. “Hi there,” she said brightly. “I don’t know when you were thinking of bringing Sue-Ann back, but I was wondering if you’d like to stay for dinner. I’ve got a roast on. You’d be very welcome.”

“Thank you, Myra, that would be lovely.” Myra’s roast dinners were always a mouth-watering treat. Cunt and clitoris à la Sue-Ann might be an even more mouth-watering prospect, but eating them was going to have to wait.

We enjoyed a lecherously lingering shower and hair wash together, then dried each other’s hair. Sue-Ann’s panties and skirt were dry and more-or-less fit to wear. By the time I’d found fresh clothes for myself and put them on, she had dressed. Her appearance was what I call Caesar’s-wife-ish – marginally above suspicion, but just enough to pass muster.

I found the Maori greenstone pendant I intended to have her wear the next weekend, slipped the leather loop over her head and arranged it around her neck. As I had anticipated, the carved piece of nephrite jade nestled cosily between the tops of her breasts, pointing downwards into her voluptuous cleavage, and the colour was just right.

“Wear it home to show Auntie Myra,” I told her. “It might distract her from your skirt.”

* * * 
Myra’s welcome was as warm as ever, and the meal was delicious: an abundance of roast lamb, roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli, peas, with mint sauce and all the trimmings – good solid traditional kiwi fare, washed down with a full-bodied Australian red wine. The pavlova and ice-cream dessert was impossible to refuse – and I didn’t stint myself. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we diet…

Sue-Ann regaled Myra and Keith with a sanitized account of our visit to “Pour Elle”, Myra rhapsodized over the pendant and the clothes we had bought, and told me several times that I shouldn’t have… Over coffee we talked about my business partner Sarah’s suggestion of Sue-Ann coming into the office to learn a few things about our events management business before our trip, and they all greeted the idea enthusiastically.

At last Sue-Ann walked me down the driveway to my car. There was plenty of shrubbery on the way for us to duck into and exchange goodnight gropes and kisses in the gathering darkness.

As I drove away I recalled the way she had said “Let’s talk about this when we get home.” In the event we had hardly talked about our relationship at all; instead, our actions had largely spoken for us. But what had they actually said?

One thing I knew for certain. In just over a day, I had fallen completely under a woman’s spell as never before.