Eylül 18, 2023


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In ‘Virgin Whirlwind’ I recounted my first successful lesbianising in a Spanish package holiday hotel. My next adventure, in the Canaries, a year later, was rather different.



The hotel was a few miles from the nearest town, which meant that unless you went on one of the coach outings the travel company wanted you to pay for, or mastered the local bus timetable, you would spend your time in the pool or on the beach. Or, if you were one of the few so inclined, like me, exploring the hilly hinterland, via the barancos.

It was soon evident that the only possibly available women were a pair of married friends vacationing together. I guessed they were in their fifties, their children adult and their husbands elsewhere or divorced. One was about my height, with a cushiony bosom and a wobbly bottom. The other, rather taller, was slim to the point of bony, her breasts hardly evident and her bum too uncushiony to wobble, but nonetheless firm and shapely.

Could they be persuaded to experiment? Would they participate together, or would they need handling separately? How was the approach to be made?

Luck was with me. The last issue took care of itself at dinner on Day 2. Because they were friendly, seeking company, and chose to sit with me. We introduced ourselves. The plump one was Glenys, the thin one Cheryl. They had been on the trip that day, and though they pronounced it quite interesting I sensed it had not catered for a certain restiveness, even boredom, in their state of being. Perhaps, now their domestic responsibilities were diminished, and they had leisure and resources, they might venture into fresh woods and pastures new.

I had spent the day exploring the hinterland inland from the hotel, and felt a little tired and bemused from the sun, but was relaxed and ready to try my luck. The conversation developed promisingly.

Glenys: You’re obviously an outdoors sort of girl. Saw you coming back from the beach first thing. Been for a swim?

‘I like an early skinny-dip. Refreshing. Gives me an appetite.’

Cheryl: No cozzie, then? Aren’t you bothered someone might see?’

‘I don’t mind if they do. Never been much concerned with modesty.’

Glenys: What about blokes?

‘Lucky them, though they’d not see much, because I get in and out pretty quick and I do have a towel, and a wrapper. Mind you, there might be a cheeky wave when I duck-dive.’

Cheryl: Bottoms up, eh?

Glenys: Not much of a wrapper, is it?

‘No wind today, and a glimpse of my pussy wouldn’t hurt anyone.’

Glenys: Where do you keep your room key when you’re swimming?

‘Well, we ladies do have a special pocket, don’t we?

Cheryl: You don’t…?

‘No, actually I leave it at reception. Have you never tried swimming naked?’

Glenys: Never had the chance.

‘Why not try it? I usually go late at night, as well. No-one about then.’

Cheryl: Any plans for tomorrow?

‘I’m going to get a packed lunch and walk along the coast. What are you planning?’

They exchanged a look.

Glenys: Could we come, too? We don’t get much walking at home.

‘Of course. I’d welcome your company.’

Further exchanges revealed they had for several years holidayed together while their husbands were on a golfing tour, and they were, indeed, avid for new experiences beyond the bounds of their lives in a northern English city.

Naturally, they had checked my finger for rings.

Glenys: You’re not married or anything, then?

‘No. I haven’t got a partner at present, not since my last one went to Australia.’

Cheryl: You didn’t want to go with him?

‘Her. No. She needed a complete break and my work kept me in the UK.’

There was a silence as they digested this. They weren’t shocked, having clearly not led too sheltered existences, and were aware there were other kinds of liaison than their own. I decided to test them further.

‘There’s a man who lived with me a while ago, and wants to come back, but I was quite glad when he moved out, and I may have had enough of men, anyway.’

Glenys: You’re pretty… versatile, then?

I sensed curiosity. They had probably not come across a candid bisexual before.

‘It depends on the person, really, whether I find them exciting and affectionate. I’ m more interested in women really. I do like trans-women. Best of both worlds you might say. But I don’t come across them often.’

Frankness was rewarded.

Cheryl: We just didn’t use to come across…things…like that when we were younger.

Glenys: Too busy doing the cooking, laundry and working to think about…sex.

Cheryl: Usually too tired to be bothered.

Glenys: And he couldn’t be bothered much after the kids came along.

Cheryl: Got out of the habit, you might say. He preferred golf after a bit.

‘What about nowadays? When you go on holiday.’

Glenys: Pick up blokes, you mean? Who’d be interested in us?

‘You’d be surprised.’

Cheryl: Too risky, anyway, supposing there were any.

Glenys: And how’d we bursa eve gelen escort go about it?

‘Did it never occur to you to help each other?’

Cheryl: You mean…?

‘Why not?’

Glenys: Well, I don’t want to be rude, but we’re not lesbians.

‘Who said you had to be lesbians?’ It was time to back away a while, so I asked about their previous holidays, their work, their families and interests.

This tactic seemed to work, for while they were happy to provide as many details of themselves as I could absorb, the topic was still in their minds. They were obviously close and cared for each other deeply. Could they have sex with each other without being lesbians?

The evening wore on, and eventually I said, ‘Time for my night-swim. Why don’t you two come, too?’

Glenys: You mean, in the nude?

‘That’s right.’

Cheryl: Just walk there in a dressing-gown and strip off and dive in?

‘Much better to go ready stripped, just the wrapper and a towel.’

Glenys: No knickers or anything?

‘That’s up to you.’

Cheryl: Well, why not?

Glenys: Though I warn you, I’m not a pretty sight in my birthday suit.

‘Let me be the judge of that.’


Thus, it came about that the three of us strode down to the deserted beach, which was lit by a new moon and a spangle of stars. I showed the way, throwing off my scanty robe and moving towards the Atlantic. The other two cast off their dressing-gowns with a cry of ‘Ta-daaa!’ And threw up their arms and posed as if for a photo-shoot, their pale skins shining silvery in the gloom, adding a moving glamour to their ordinary, beautiful, middle-aged bodies.

Glenys’s breasts were heavy and sagging but bulky, the areolas huge, the nipples long, visibly hardening in the slight breeze. Below her rounded belly her pubic hair was an impressive bush, extensive, dense and long. I stared unashamedly, and she said, ‘I told you it’s not a pretty sight. Always looked like a shaggy dog.’

‘It’s magnificent,’ I said, ‘I want to bury my face in it.’

Cheryl was all defined muscle and bone, without an ounce of fat. Her breasts were shallow and teardrop-shaped, the areolas and nipples all of a piece, as if capped with dark limpet shells. She responded to my gaze by saying, ‘I was never chubby, but after my second I lost a lot of weight. My husband says nowadays it’s like having sex with a broomstick. Not that he wants to very much.’

‘He hasn’t done much sweeping, then, has he?’ I said.

Her puss-fur was a little tuft on her mons, above a slit of the kind called ‘camel-toe,’ a crease revealing nothing.

They came alongside me, one each side. I took their hands and drew them into the little waves. The water was quite chilly and they exclaimed as we waded in deeper. I cast them off and urged them to strike out, which brought me views of their bottoms as they plunged forward. Cheryl’s was slender, the buttocks also teardrop shaped, swelling out from the top of the crack, backwards rather than sideways, preserving her lean hip-line. While Glenys’s – well, Glenys’s! It seemed to spread from her waist in more than three dimensions, super-real, appearing to fill more space than its, certainly large, size warranted. Yes, it shook with her movements, but there was nothing flabby about it – you could have trampolined on it, supposing you could have done that on so curved a surface.

I dived in myself and came up alongside them. Glenys and I were up to our necks, while the water was just below Cheryl’s nipples. ‘Doesn’t it feel good without the hindrance of a costume?’ I asked.

Cheryl: Yes, it does. Makes you feel more…involved in the water.

Glenys: Freer.

‘Don’t you like the way your breasts float about?’

Cheryl: If you’ve got some.

‘Please don’t disparage yours. They’re beautiful.’

Cheryl: No-one’s ever said that to me.

‘Didn’t you ever tell her, Glenys?’

Glenys: It wasn’t the sort of thing one woman said to another, somehow.

Cheryl: My husband quite liked them when we were younger, but I don’t think he’s looked at them since our youngest was born.

‘I just want to stroke and lick them. In fact, I’m going to.’ I moved towards her, put a hand round the back of her neck and brought my mouth to the target.

She didn’t flinch away, or move at all as I licked up and down and ran my tongue round those neat, conical nipples. After a few minutes, however, she clasped me round my neck. I stole a glance at Glenys, who was watching with interest. I said to her, ‘Come on, girl, you take the right and I’ll go on with the left.’

For a long moment, she didn’t move. But then came to my shoulder and advanced her lips to Cheryl’s chest and began, cautiously, to kiss her way downwards. We remained thus for a further while, then.

Glenys: I can’t believe I’m doing this.

‘Do you like it?’

Cheryl: I like it. Ray used to do it when we were younger, and I always wished he’d go on much longer.

Glenys: Bill used to munch mine like they were bursa escort cherries on fairy-cakes. I quite liked it sometimes, but just when I got a nice feeling he’d stop and go elsewhere.

‘Oh, we’ll get to yours, I hope. But we’re getting goose-bumps. Let’s have a brisk swim and go back.’

We were quite soon towelling off, donning our robes and returning to the hotel, the two new skinny-dippers thoughtful.

Glenys: I haven’t walked along like this without any knickers since I was little.

Cheryl: Bit draughty for every day.

‘That’s what I like. I often don’t wear any. But, then, I’m a lustful lesbian.’

Cheryl: You’re not like what I thought lesbians were like.

‘Either built like all-in wrestlers, needing to shave, or like little shrinking sylphs?’

Cheryl: Yes. Aren’t they called “butch” and “femme”?’

‘Which am I then?’

Glenys: Well, you don’t look like either. You look normal.’

‘I’ll tell you a secret. Lesbians are normal. Normal women who like to have sex with other women. Yes, there are butchy ones and femmy ones, but many of us can be either or both, active or passive, depending on whom we’re with and what we feel like.’

I thought progress had been made in the evening and didn’t expect to get any further that night, but as we retrieved our keys from the night-porter at reception –

Glenys: Would you like to have a nightcap with us?

‘That would be nice, thank you. I’ll have a shower and join you. Dress code?’

Cheryl: Oh, nightwear.

Glenys: With or without…

They told me their third-floor room number, and I began to have hopes.


The nightcap was wine bought on yesterday’s trip. The nightwear was the beach-robes over flannel nightdresses, under which there were evidently no bras. But whether there were nether garments was not discernible. There were certainly none under my wrapper, since there was nothing under that except me. I never use nightwear.

They were trying to seem, to be, relaxed and thanked me for the swim, which they had quite taken to, though it was not clear whether that included bosomising Cheryl. Meanwhile we sipped and chatted, the two of them lying propped against the headboards of their twin beds and me sitting in the only armchair. From downstairs came the sounds of a disco.

They were, I guessed, wondering how to work round to questioning me further about matters sexual, so I decided to cut to the chase, and said, ‘I think you want to ask me some questions. That’s fine. Just go ahead and ask.’

Glenys: What do lesbians actually do?

‘Anything they feel like doing.’

Cheryl: Do they use diddlers?

‘You mean dildoes, though I think “diddlers” is great. Some use them, yes. There are various ways of using them. There are strap-on ones which one woman wears to diddle the other one. There are hand-held ones, vibrating ones, ones which go up inside and also catch the clitoris, and double-ended ones which go up both of them.’

Glenys: Sounds a bit complicated.

‘It can be as simple as you like. You don’t have to use anything except yourself.’

They were on the brink of asking for a demonstration, but held back.

Cheryl: We think you go on holidays like this to look for women.

‘Well, I did last year in Spain.’

Glenys: How did you get on?

‘A long way short of a thousand and three.’

Cheryl: And this year you want one of us.


Glenys: No?

Cheryl: No, she wants both of us.

Glenys: Separately or together?

‘Either. But why not together?’

Glenys: How would that work?

‘Very well, I should think. If you’re willing to try it.’

This was the crunch moment. They were excited, wanted to go ahead, but were frightened doing so would brand them as freaks, in their own minds. ‘Be bold,’ my intuition told me, and I stood and took off the wrapper.

‘What d’you think? Normal woman?’

Cheryl: Very…attractive. Wish I had breasts like that.

‘Probably no more and no less responsive than yours, judging by earlier in the sea.’

Glenys: What should we do?

‘Taking everything off would be a good start. I can’t do my wicked lesbian molesting with you covered up.’

They laughed, stood and disrobed.

‘No knickers, then. You were expecting to go ahead, weren’t you?’

Glenys: We did wonder if something might happen.

‘You’re going to make it happen.’

Cheryl: Perhaps I should go in the bathroom while you and Glenys…

‘Why not stay here and you and Glenys…and you and me, and Glenys and me…’

Cheryl: But how can we get along, all three?

‘Sit down. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.’

They sat on their beds, like two naughty girls sent to the dormitory. I gently pushed Cheryl into position, lying down, face up and sat beside her to stroke her breasts and leant down to suck her nipples. They hardened.

‘Is that enjoyable? I thought so. Why don’t you take over, Glenys, while I attend to this muff and what görükle escort I find underneath.’

Glenys sat the other side of the bed and began to stroke and suck as I had done, tentatively are first, but more firmly when Cheryl reached up to take her behind the neck and urge her more firmly to the allotted task. Meanwhile, I opened Cheryl’s legs and studied the revealed pudenda.

Of course, all pudenda are fascinating, and like all pudenda they were only fully revealed by the parting of the thighs. Until then they are largely hidden, so that there is the added delight of discovering their secrets. Standing, Cheryl’s presented as enigmatic camel-toe, but when fully visible it emerged that, just where the crevice disappeared underneath, the labia minora began to peep forth, and as the vulva went on towards the vagina they emerged more, till the vestibule was enfolded in two inches of dark, rose-coloured, crinkly curtaining. This meant that her clitoris lurked within the slit, just where the labia began, so that it constituted a little buffer at the upper limit of the vulva, its hood rudimentary, its glanslet plainly visible.

I was tempted to attract Glenys’s attention to this notable and delightful phenomenon, but decided to let her discover it for herself in due course. I had plans to inspect her pudenda, too, and soon, of course. Meanwhile I devoted myself to Cheryl, starting with opening those drapes and apply my tongue to the cleft, just above the vestibule and slowly licking my way upwards several times, culminating in prodding her clit with my tongue-tip to test its reaction.

Cheryl: That’s my chrysalis, isn’t it? Isn’t that a bit unhygienic?

I needed my tongue. ‘Clitoris, though “chrysalis” fits, if you think that a butterfly can fly from it. Does it feel good? Yes? That’s what matters.’

I began to lap at that hard-little nubbin, and her whole body began to quiver. She sucked in breath through her teeth and expelled it in little puffs. Glenys noted the trembling, of course, and paused in her attentions to Cheryl’s breasts to glance at what I was doing.

Pausing again. ‘Didn’t your husbands ever do this?’

Glenys: Mine, never. He knew about the…clitoris, but he just rubbed it with his fingers.

‘Did that get you aroused?’

Glenys: Yes, but as soon as that happened he stopped rubbing and went into me.

‘Yes, many men have the idea that the clit gets a woman going, and then she’ll cum if they start thrutching. Whilst the majority of women cum from the clit alone. I think Cheryl’s a case in point. Let’s see.’

Glenys resumed stroking and slurping at her friend’s breasts, watching out of the corner of her eye as best she could as I continued tonguing the clit. At the same time, I slid two fingers through the half-open labia into the vagina and flexed them in and out. Cheryl began to pant harder, uttering little cries of surprise at the accumulation of her orgasm.

I snatched a second away from her snatch. ‘Her butterfly is hatching.’

Glenys ceased her mammary manipulations to watch, as Cheryl’s quivering developed into shaking and bucking. When she let out a deep, rumbling moan and went rigid.

‘Kiss and hold her.’ I moved to let Glenys stretch out beside and embrace Cheryl.

‘You’ve always wanted to do that.’

Glenys: Well, we have kissed and cuddled a bit, when we shared a bed.

‘But you were both too shy to go any further.’

Glenys: We thought it was wrong, I suppose. Like being unfaithful.’

‘It’s never too late to find more of your womanhood.’


Cheryl: I’ve never had an…orgasm…like that. That’s the word, isn’t it?’

‘That’s the word, and now you know what’s possible.’

Glenys: What about my having one of those?

‘Lie on the other bed. And if Cheryl’s recovered she can come over, too. Then we can share those abundant breasts of yours. That for a start, anyway. Then we’ll see…’

Glenys lay as instructed and Cheryl and I sat either side and began to fondle those impressive globes. They were pear-shaped, rounded and heavy at their lowest level. The huge areolas rounding out, the long nipples extruding. I held the right breast steady and drew the areola-nipple assembly into my mouth and slid my tongue back and forth on it. Cheryl followed suit with the other breast, and we settled into an interlude of stroking, sucking and nibbling.

Glenys: That’s so good. I feel so…relieved. A sort of fizzy feeling’s sweeping all the tension out of my body. It makes me want to cry.

I withdrew my lips. ‘Just let go, Glenys. Let go everything. And open your legs for us. We’re going to bring you off. I’ll start.’

Now I could view her pudenda, and they were abundant, too. The outer lips were fleshy, twin, puffy ridges, out of which the inner labia protruded three inches at their zenith, glued together in one mass, so that the vulva was not yet visible. Cheryl gazed, fascinated, till I suggested she separate the lips. She used her thumbs, as if opening the pages of a book, and they parted with a little sucking sound, revealing a deep, dark red vulva.

We both peered into it and then followed it upwards to bring into view a stupendous clitoris. Instead of pointing down towards the vestibule it jutted out almost at right angles, boasting a glans which appeared to possess a foreskin, because it emerged from the enfolding hood like a little penis.