Lily was one of many late-teen schoolgirls who used to come to the gigs I did with my band. It's true what they say: girls are attracted to musicians, and many are not looking for a relationship, but a good, lusty, satisfying time because their hormones are telling them to get themselves shagged. They are no different from teenage boys, really, except of course girls are not—and don't like to be -—regardeds the hunters.

So I was doing okay for myself in that respect—and so were they. I didn't flatter myself that every girl I got together with was interested in me as a person, and I knew they were also interested in other guys. We are all making our way in this world, doing our best with what gifts and attributes we had. I was a reporter on the local paper, which meant I used to meet people I otherwise might not, and one was Mary Bones, a big battleaxe of a woman who put her intimidating bulk and forceful personality into her work as a politician. There was apparently no Mr Bones. I got on well with Mary and had had several conversations with her about music. Her daughter, Lily, came to my gigs, she told me. She thinks you're rather nice.

Lily's problem was that she was built like her Mum, or would be soon enough. At 18, she still had it under control, but she was taller and fatter than girls like to be. And boys found her a bit daunting. You know the way young men can be so choosy and judgemental when they should just be grateful for what they can get. No one wanted to be seen with big Lily Bones.

To be honest, I hadn't exactly been hypnotised by her either, but when her mother planted that seed in my mind, I started to think differently.

So it was that one night after a gig I asked Lily out. I suggested meeting her in a pub, but she said no, she wanted me to come and pick her up.

They lived in a flat in the centre of town, so I couldn't sit outside and toot my car horn, even if I had wanted to. I rang the doorbell and Mary opened it.

"Ah, the young scribe," she said with a half smile. "She'll be a couple of minutes, so take a seat." She brought me a beer and sat with me, expertly passing the time of day while, it seemed to me, radiating some kind of physical force, as if she could have eaten me alive and I had better understand that. It was almost a relief when Lily finally appeared, dolled up as I had never seen her before, in a short dress, with her hair up and dark lipstick. Mary looked at her approvingly and said, "Yes, that's more like it."

I took her to a big Chinese restaurant that was far from swanky but served decent food. Lily and I got along very well. Sometimes with students it is hard o get them off coursework and the kinds of things they would discuss with their peers, but I managed to get her talking about music, and although her tastes didn't really align with mine, she was no airhead. She talked about female singers I knew the names of but had never really listened to, and she knew some of my favourites because we played them in the band. She knew who The Smiths were—which is quite normal, I suppose, because Morrissey's mob transcends the generations: if you feel like a bit of an outsider or misfit, their songs of failure and alienation because the world doesn't listen are right up your street.

Lily didn't bat an eyelid when I asked her back to my place at only ten o'clock. She seemed to know as well as I did that we had things to be getting on with that couldn't be done in public.

I put on a CD by Corinne Bailey Rae, who had been on the brink of huge success before Amy Winehouse swept everybody aside, and soon Lily and I were wrapped around each other on the settee. My hand was immediately up that skirt and caressing her silky inner thighs, and when I touched her clitoris, she stood up.

"Take me to bed," she said firmly but with a slightly tremulous vulnerability.

She wasn't happy until she was naked in my bed. Then she started to talk.

"You probably know I'm a virgin," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Pathetic, eh?" She glanced at me for a reaction, but all I did was stroke her belly and move my hand down into her abundant pubic hair. "I'm not scared," she said. "It's just that..."

"Guys are scared of you," I suggested.

"Something like that," she said, relieved. "I don't know if they think I'm ugly or..."

"You're not ugly," I said, stroking her face. "You're lovely. It's the boys that are inadequate, not you." We continued in this vein for a minute or two as my fingers roamed her body and I licked and sucked her big breasts. She didn't seem to know how to react to this.

"Relax," I whispered. "Let me do things to you. You just enjoy them."

Her right hand was tentatively touching my hip, so I took it and placed it on my cock. A faint smile flickered across her face and she began to squeeze me gently, then move the hand up the shaft to my knob, where she left it while she rearranged her legs and I accepted the invitation to lie between them. Then I slid right down and got my face between her thighs. She had that rich, salty aroma that young women do, and I slurped at her, pulling her lips and sucking her clitoris.

"Do you like that?" she asked hesitantly.

"Licking?" I queried.

"Licking me," she clarified.

"Absolutely," I said. "You are gorgeous."

"I mean, am I all right down there?" she went on.

"You mean do you smell and taste okay? You're clean and you have the aroma of a young woman. And I could eat your cunt for breakfast."

She laughed nervously.

"Cunt," she said, trying the word out. "No one has ever called it that before. Do you like my 'cunt', then?"

"Lily, your 'cunt' is the most amazing thing in the world. I love licking your cunt. And sucking your clitoris. And your cunt lips. And sticking my tongue as far up your hole as I can get it." I thought I would leave it there, but she wanted more.

"What are you going to do next?" she asked, enjoying being in the driving seat. I decided to give her both barrels, since she as having such fun with words.

"I'm going to lick your arse," I said salaciously. This stopped her momentarily.

"Really?" she said, looking me in the eye as I looked up at her from her furry delta.

"Really," I assured her. "I'm going to lick your arse. You want me to, don't you?"

"I've never thought about it," she said hesitantly. "Well, actually, it has crossed my mind in passing. But I never thought... anyone would seriously want to do it."

"I'm going to get my face between your buttocks and lick your anus," I promised her. "Probably make you cum like that."

"Only probably?" she teased. I smiled up at her and answered seriously.

"I am going to lick your arse until you scream," I assured her.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Now?"

"Turn over on your hands and knees," I instructed her. And big Lily Bones organised her substantial body into the correct position to have her bottom licked. I could see the thoughts churning through her head. How brazen she was. How kinky we both were, she and this crazy man. She was suddenly racing ahead of the other girls - not just having sex, but the rudest, dirtiest sex imaginable.

But could she even tell anyone? And really, what was the point of anything if you couldn't tell people and be admired? Maybe she should get him to film it on her phone - just hers so it wouldn't go anywhere it shouldn't.

Before she could come to a conclusion, she felt my hands on her buttocks, pulling them apart. And then the tip of my tongue at her ring. Then I was licking her like an ice cream: firmly, deliberately and with obvious enjoyment. Relishing it, her old English teacher might have encouraged her to say. She emitted a low growl, a noise that she had never made before, because never before had she plumbed the depths of her sexuality like this, not even in her imagination. She was at sea in a small boat, rocking and unpredictable, and yet she felt kind of safe because the guy knew what he was doing.

And then she was getting more and more revved up until finally she knew she was about to have her first man-induced orgasm. She produced another involuntary sound - this time a kind of cry, higher in pitch than her guttural groan of depravity. This was of pleasure mixed with uncertainty; she was out of control. And she wasn't even being fucked; she had hardly touched this man's cock. All that was happening was some oral-anal contact, as you might find it referred to if you looked it up online. This guy was licking her arse and, and, and... driving her crazy. Literally crazy, out of her mind with sheer sexual bliss.

Lily screamed and then stopped herself and apologised as she felt me hesitate.

"Sorry," she said as waves of satisfaction gushed through her and she began to come in to land. "I'm just so, I don't know."

And she didn't know. Her still incomplete academic schooling had not prepared her for this and her sexual education had taken a wild leap she hadn't been expecting. We assumed more traditional lover positions and I wrapped my arms around her.

"Can you shag me now? Please," she said, unable to shake off her good upbringing.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" I asked pleasantly.

"Put your cock inside me," she said quietly.

"Up your hole?"

"Yes. Up my cunt." She was enjoying this badinage.

"You want me to fuck you?" I continued.

She pushed me away and lay back with her legs wide apart. Then she grabbed my cock and pulled it towards her crotch, forcing me to move. It was the sort of thing I could imagine her mother doing, both confident in their physical power. They must both have learned in the playground that they could get their way by using their bulk. It occurred to me that Mary must have had lesbian encounters, because other women must have found her dominant nature exciting. Lily had probably felt urges too, but I doubted she had done anything about it. Now, though, she was pushing me around, and I liked it.

I lay between her legs and began a speech about birth control and all that.

"What about..."

"Just don't cum inside me," she interrupted. "It's okay." I didn't know why she thought it was okay, but being as revved up as I was, I went along with it. I inserted my cock head into her entrance and felt no hymen. Had I ever detected a hymen on any girl? I didn't think so. Maybe they had been discontinued. Anyway, i pushed all the way in and she felt fabulously silky and cushioned.

"Is that all right?" she asked nervously.

"Beautiful," I replied.

"Shag me, then," she insisted, and as I pushed and pulled she joined me in the rhythm, so it was almost like a dance. She shut her eyes and smiled, then opened them and I saw her eyeballs roll up into her head. Her hands were all over me, lingering between my buttocks, perhaps because I had already demonstrated to her that the human arse was an instrument of pleasure.

"Shouldn't we be doing other things first?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Aren't I supposed to suck you?"

"We'll do everything in time," I assured her. "It doesn't have to be all at once." I saw a smile flicker on her lips and realised I had implicitly told her this wouldn't be a one-off, an assurance I hadn't intended. But in truth, she was a lovely girl and good company. And potentially great in bed, so why not?

We entered the frantic phase of our copulating, and she began to breathe heavily. She looked into my eyes with a kind of powerless pleading, and I pulled out, sending shots of cum up her belly to her chest.