"I bet she takes it up the arse!"

How any woman would cringe to hear a man (or worse, another woman) say that of her, or of any woman. To say that "she takes it up the arse" is to say that she is a slut, a nymphomaniac; a woman so depraved and without dignity as to let men violate her unnaturally. So what woman in her right mind would actively choose to "take it up the arse"? Well, me for one. I shall try to explain why.

I am a 28 year old professional woman. I have a university education. I am a school teacher. I am in short, a typical, middle-class liberal young woman. Nonetheless, I have no doubt that most of my family, friends and colleagues would be speechless with shock if they knew anything about my sexual tastes.

I discovered masturbation in my teens, spending many delirious evenings lying naked on my bed as I manipulated my clitoris into the spasms of adolescent orgasm (I masturbate by grinding the heel of my hand onto my clit - does anyone else do this?). Most of my fantasies involved girls, often girls I knew from school, and my elder brother's stack of girlie magazines provided a handy source of visual stimulus. In my mid-teens, models in soft-core magazines still sported unshaven pussies, so I didn't worry unduly about my thickening bush. I never felt any compunction to shave anything other than my legs and pits even though in comparison to other girls whom I saw in the showers after games, I realised I was a very bushy young lady.

In the late 1980's and early 1990's, girlie magazines tended not to have stories about anal sex because it was still illegal between a man and a woman in the UK (though legal between homosexual men). Something else noteworthy, was that on most photos, the models' anuses had been airbrushed out - just a soft focus dark patch between their buttocks. Neither in soft-core pornography nor in my imagination did the anal region feature as a locus of erotic pleasure. My fingers offered strayed down between my buttocks to the sensitive rim of my anus while I masturbated, but like peeing, pooping or farting, it was something to be done alone, not shared with others.

By the time I was sixteen or so, my brother Mark (who was 18 at the time) had rumbled me. He knew I was snitching his "spank mags" and he started to tease me about being a 'dyke'. I told him that I was most certainly not a dyke (although I was getting rather worried that I was, actually), protesting that I only read the dirty stories. Mark began to quiz me about whether I masturbated when I read the stories, volunteering the information that he "jacked off all the time." It was perhaps a mistake to admit that I did masturbate because once I had made that admission he started to press me for details of how girls "managed it."

The truth was, of course, that I was equally inquisitive about how boys did it too. Before long we agreed to show one another. The first time was in his bedroom, one magazine for him and one for me. Mark seemed totally unembarrassed about unzipping his flies and pulling out his half-hard cock in front of me, but I was more bashful and although I took my skirt off, I kept my knickers on. Mark knelt over the spread centrefold and began to tug on his quite large cock as I read a few lines of a sexy story and lay back to luxuriate in a nice long wank, almost forgetting he was there at all after a while. My auto-erotic haze was punctured when I heard Mark grunt and opened my eyes to see him pumping a big load of jism over the pages of the open magazine, his face contorted and his prick rigid and pulsing. Having seen Mark come, I felt bolder, so I drew the gusset of my panties aside and continued to finger and frig my hairy sex until I too had a very good orgasm.

We continued to have these parallel masturbation sessions for most of that long summer holiday, our inhibitions gradually falling away until our normal practice was to masturbate nude in front of each another. I knew that Mark had had a few girlfriends, but nothing very serious. He was good-looking, an apparently nice-guy, but just not very experienced. One night, just as I was about to remove my bra, he told me to stop.

"What do you mean stop?" I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"Emma," he began, sounding a little tongue-tied, "Will you help me with something?"

"It depends what," I said. Somewhat nervously, he told me.

"Well, whenever I'm with a girl, and we start . . . you know . . . snogging and stuff, I start to feel up her tits and want to undo her bra, but bras have these weird catches that I can't unclasp."

I agreed to help out my ham-fisted, fumbling elder brother and soon found myself in his arms as he tried (with little success) to unhook my bra. I demonstrated a few times and finally her got the knack. My bra was unhooked. We should have stopped there, as he had achieved his objective, but instead Mark started to take my bra off and I did nothing to stop him. So there we were. Me topless, my breasts in my brother's hands.

"You've got such beautiful breasts Emma," he whispered, "so big." It was weird to hear that from my brother, but still it felt nice just to have a boy tell me that my breasts were sexy. I have quite large breasts, with very big brown nipples - I was one of those girls who left school one July flat-chested and came back in September with big grown-up jugs. I'm 36C now and I can't have been much smaller then. My breasts are also very sensitive - one of the reasons I made no move to make Mark stop touching them. It is perfectly possible for me to have an orgasm simply through touching my breasts and pinching my nipples.

"Touch them Mark," I panted, "Touch my breasts. Play with my nipples" He was quite good at exciting my hard nipples and soon I was feeling very wet and horny indeed - past the point of no return.

"Suck them Mark," I begged, "Suck on my nipples." Immediately Mark took one of my swollen nips into his mouth and gnawed hungrily on it, alternating between my breasts, drawing one then the other turgid nipple into painfully hard cones of sensation. I was very near climax and as I thrust a finger into the sopping mush of my pussy I yelled at him to bite them hard, which he did, and I came instantly. It was one of the most intense orgasms I had ever had and I actually gushed - viscous liquid actually oozed from vagina and Mark felt it drip onto his thigh. He threw me back on the bed and dived between my legs and thrust his tongue into my sopping quim. My own brother was licking my fanny and I was loving it, bucking my groin into his face to try to take his jabbing tongue even further up my slippery puss.

"Your cunt tastes so good Emma," he panted between licks. Cunt. Not a word I'd liked until that moment. But at that precise moment the erotic force of that four letter word was almost enough to make me come again. Not "pussy" or "quim" or even "twat" - the sort of words that girls use among girls, but CUNT - a big dirty, sexual word. I have always been slightly embarrassed about my pussy; it is very, very hairy and I have very large lips, and yet here was a man devouring my big hairy cunt and making me come.

One of my favourite stories in Mark's magazines was about a teenage girl who like to have her boyfriends fuck her breasts. That, I decided, is exactly what I wanted at that moment.

"Fuck my breasts Mark," I begged him, barely able to speak I was so turned on. It was no longer me talking, but the girl in the story. Even the phrases and language that I used was hers - I was a character in a porn magazine now.

"Put your prick between by big tits and fuck them. I want to make you come." Mark tore his mouth from my pussy and kissed me, our tongues meeting in our open mouths and I tasted my own sex on him. We broke of the kiss, saliva drooling in a string between our lips and Mark pressed his hard, hot cock into the valley of my cleavage. My brother is circumcised (I don't know why - we are neither American or Jewish) and his huge purple bell-end almost butted against my chin as he thrust hard between my jugs. I opened my mouth, almost involuntarily. He had tasted me and I wanted to taste him. I didn't have to wait long.

"Emma, I'm going to come!" He hardly gave me any warning because almost before he finished saying that a big dollop of hot spunk landed on my chin. Grabbing his cock, which felt enormous in my hand, I pumped the rest of his jizz into my open mouth, hardly tasting his thick load as it slithered over my tongue and down my throat.

We showered afterwards and didn't really talk about what had happened. If this were a fictional story about incest then we'd have gone on to have sex, then anal sex, then all sorts of family orgies. But as this is a true story I'm afraid not much more happened. We masturbated together many more times and sometimes it led to oral sex, sometimes not. When he left to go to university that September our trysts stopped. The next time we did anything with each other was when I was a university student, depressed pissed off about some bloke I fancied who had got off with one of my friends, and Mark had come to stay with me for the weekend. That weekend we did end up having sex. I needed sex that night and Mark was there. It didn't feel like incest at the time, strangely. In fact it was very good sex, but I don't think either of us will ever go further. Some things are best left to the imagination!

"I bet she takes it up the arse!"

How any woman would cringe to hear a man (or worse, another woman) say that of her, or of any woman. To say that "she takes it up the arse" is to say that she is a slut, a nymphomaniac; a woman so depraved and without dignity as to let men violate her unnaturally. So what woman in her right mind would actively choose to "take it up the arse"? Well, me for one. I shall try to explain why.

I am a 28 year old professional woman. I have a university education. I am a school teacher. I am in short, a typical, middle-class liberal young woman. Nonetheless, I have no doubt that most of my family, friends and colleagues would be speechless with shock if they knew anything about my sexual tastes.

I discovered masturbation in my teens, spending many delirious evenings lying naked on my bed as I manipulated my clitoris into the spasms of adolescent orgasm (I masturbate by grinding the heel of my hand onto my clit - does anyone else do this?). Most of my fantasies involved girls, often girls I knew from school, and my elder brother's stack of girlie magazines provided a handy source of visual stimulus. In my mid-teens, models in soft-core magazines still sported unshaven pussies, so I didn't worry unduly about my thickening bush. I never felt any compunction to shave anything other than my legs and pits even though in comparison to other girls whom I saw in the showers after games, I realised I was a very bushy young lady.

In the late 1980's and early 1990's, girlie magazines tended not to have stories about anal sex because it was still illegal between a man and a woman in the UK (though legal between homosexual men). Something else noteworthy, was that on most photos, the models' anuses had been airbrushed out - just a soft focus dark patch between their buttocks. Neither in soft-core pornography nor in my imagination did the anal region feature as a locus of erotic pleasure. My fingers offered strayed down between my buttocks to the sensitive rim of my anus while I masturbated, but like peeing, pooping or farting, it was something to be done alone, not shared with others.

By the time I was sixteen or so, my brother Mark (who was 18 at the time) had rumbled me. He knew I was snitching his "spank mags" and he started to tease me about being a 'dyke'. I told him that I was most certainly not a dyke (although I was getting rather worried that I was, actually), protesting that I only read the dirty stories. Mark began to quiz me about whether I masturbated when I read the stories, volunteering the information that he "jacked off all the time." It was perhaps a mistake to admit that I did masturbate because once I had made that admission he started to press me for details of how girls "managed it."

The truth was, of course, that I was equally inquisitive about how boys did it too. Before long we agreed to show one another. The first time was in his bedroom, one magazine for him and one for me. Mark seemed totally unembarrassed about unzipping his flies and pulling out his half-hard cock in front of me, but I was more bashful and although I took my skirt off, I kept my knickers on. Mark knelt over the spread centrefold and began to tug on his quite large cock as I read a few lines of a sexy story and lay back to luxuriate in a nice long wank, almost forgetting he was there at all after a while. My auto-erotic haze was punctured when I heard Mark grunt and opened my eyes to see him pumping a big load of jism over the pages of the open magazine, his face contorted and his prick rigid and pulsing. Having seen Mark come, I felt bolder, so I drew the gusset of my panties aside and continued to finger and frig my hairy sex until I too had a very good orgasm.

We continued to have these parallel masturbation sessions for most of that long summer holiday, our inhibitions gradually falling away until our normal practice was to masturbate nude in front of each another. I knew that Mark had had a few girlfriends, but nothing very serious. He was good-looking, an apparently nice-guy, but just not very experienced. One night, just as I was about to remove my bra, he told me to stop.

"What do you mean stop?" I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"Emma," he began, sounding a little tongue-tied, "Will you help me with something?"

"It depends what," I said. Somewhat nervously, he told me.

"Well, whenever I'm with a girl, and we start . . . you know . . . snogging and stuff, I start to feel up her tits and want to undo her bra, but bras have these weird catches that I can't unclasp."

I agreed to help out my ham-fisted, fumbling elder brother and soon found myself in his arms as he tried (with little success) to unhook my bra. I demonstrated a few times and finally her got the knack. My bra was unhooked. We should have stopped there, as he had achieved his objective, but instead Mark started to take my bra off and I did nothing to stop him. So there we were. Me topless, my breasts in my brother's hands.

"You've got such beautiful breasts Emma," he whispered, "so big." It was weird to hear that from my brother, but still it felt nice just to have a boy tell me that my breasts were sexy. I have quite large breasts, with very big brown nipples - I was one of those girls who left school one July flat-chested and came back in September with big grown-up jugs. I'm 36C now and I can't have been much smaller then. My breasts are also very sensitive - one of the reasons I made no move to make Mark stop touching them. It is perfectly possible for me to have an orgasm simply through touching my breasts and pinching my nipples.

"Touch them Mark," I panted, "Touch my breasts. Play with my nipples" He was quite good at exciting my hard nipples and soon I was feeling very wet and horny indeed - past the point of no return.

"Suck them Mark," I begged, "Suck on my nipples." Immediately Mark took one of my swollen nips into his mouth and gnawed hungrily on it, alternating between my breasts, drawing one then the other turgid nipple into painfully hard cones of sensation. I was very near climax and as I thrust a finger into the sopping mush of my pussy I yelled at him to bite them hard, which he did, and I came instantly. It was one of the most intense orgasms I had ever had and I actually gushed - viscous liquid actually oozed from vagina and Mark felt it drip onto his thigh. He threw me back on the bed and dived between my legs and thrust his tongue into my sopping quim. My own brother was licking my fanny and I was loving it, bucking my groin into his face to try to take his jabbing tongue even further up my slippery puss.

"Your cunt tastes so good Emma," he panted between licks. Cunt. Not a word I'd liked until that moment. But at that precise moment the erotic force of that four letter word was almost enough to make me come again. Not "pussy" or "quim" or even "twat" - the sort of words that girls use among girls, but CUNT - a big dirty, sexual word. I have always been slightly embarrassed about my pussy; it is very, very hairy and I have very large lips, and yet here was a man devouring my big hairy cunt and making me come.

One of my favourite stories in Mark's magazines was about a teenage girl who like to have her boyfriends fuck her breasts. That, I decided, is exactly what I wanted at that moment.

"Fuck my breasts Mark," I begged him, barely able to speak I was so turned on. It was no longer me talking, but the girl in the story. Even the phrases and language that I used was hers - I was a character in a porn magazine now.

"Put your prick between by big tits and fuck them. I want to make you come." Mark tore his mouth from my pussy and kissed me, our tongues meeting in our open mouths and I tasted my own sex on him. We broke of the kiss, saliva drooling in a string between our lips and Mark pressed his hard, hot cock into the valley of my cleavage. My brother is circumcised (I don't know why - we are neither American or Jewish) and his huge purple bell-end almost butted against my chin as he thrust hard between my jugs. I opened my mouth, almost involuntarily. He had tasted me and I wanted to taste him. I didn't have to wait long.

"Emma, I'm going to come!" He hardly gave me any warning because almost before he finished saying that a big dollop of hot spunk landed on my chin. Grabbing his cock, which felt enormous in my hand, I pumped the rest of his jizz into my open mouth, hardly tasting his thick load as it slithered over my tongue and down my throat.

We showered afterwards and didn't really talk about what had happened. If this were a fictional story about incest then we'd have gone on to have sex, then anal sex, then all sorts of family orgies. But as this is a true story I'm afraid not much more happened. We masturbated together many more times and sometimes it led to oral sex, sometimes not. When he left to go to university that September our trysts stopped. The next time we did anything with each other was when I was a university student, depressed pissed off about some bloke I fancied who had got off with one of my friends, and Mark had come to stay with me for the weekend. That weekend we did end up having sex. I needed sex that night and Mark was there. It didn't feel like incest at the time, strangely. In fact it was very good sex, but I don't think either of us will ever go further. Some things are best left to the imagination!