	Emma

	I

It is breakfast time and television screens throughout the 
country are tuned to Arouse Yourself on the cable 
television station Harlot TV, just one of the many Sex TV 
Stations available. Harlot TV is a Three X classified station, 
which means that it is considered responsible enough to 
broadcast hard core porn, but hasn't yet got a Four X 
classification allowing it to go to the very edge of Sex 
Broadcasting. For years, Harlot TV has struggled to attain 
this status: broadcasting serious Sex Documentaries, 
serious Sex Discussion programs and commissioning drama 
programs where sex, although the obvious raison d'etre, is 
supported by reasonable story-lines and scripted dialogue. 

In the Arouse Yourself studio, there are three naked 
people. One is Frank, the show's host, and another is one of 
today's guests, a top magazine model Samantha. Frank has 
his prick firmly up Samantha's cunt (not her arse, as this is 
Breakfast Television and rules have to obeyed) and the 
television cameras are alternating between shots of the 
penetration and Samantha's ecstatic facial expressions 
(which are probably as much faked as on the cover of the 
magazines in which Samantha appears). The hostess of the 
show, Anna, has put on a bath-robe and is wiping her cunt 
dry with a tissue. A few items ago, she had had sex with 
another guest on a Sexual Exercises Item. She is seven 
months pregnant and part of the theme of her continued 
appearance is that sex is still compatible with pregnancy. 

The third naked person is Emma. She is not having sex, has 
not had sex today and has no intention of doing so. In fact 
Emma has only once in her life had sex and she enjoyed it 
so little she hasn't done so since. However, Emma is a 
strict naturist, as well as a strict vegetarian and a strict 
teetotaller. She works as a Research Assistant for 
Arouse Yourself which involves finding guests for the 
program, assessing the amount of sexual activity they are 
willing to undertake (which varies by choice and fee - the 
more sex the bigger the fee) and drawing up a schedule of 
questions and chat-up lines for the presenters. 

The reason she works on Harlot TV is not because she is a 
great supporter of pornographic television. Indeed, she 
finds the theme of sex rather monotonous with its limited 
range of permutations constantly paraded on the screen. 
The reason is that there are not very many employers who 
are willing to employ a strict naturist: one who wears 
clothes for the smallest possible period of time. In fact, the 
stricter a naturist one is the less time one wears clothes and 
the fewer clothes one owns. Emma owns only one item of 
clothing: a bikini bottom she wears to work in the 
summer. The others she borrows from her flatmates. She 
wouldn't own the bikini either if she wasn't frightened of 
germs. She washes the bikini bottom every day after 
wearing it. 

It isn't summer now, but a quite cool day in spring but 
Emma came to work wearing only a coat she borrowed 
from her flatmate, Charlotte, which comes half-way down 
her thighs. It was very early in the morning when Emma 
arrived and there weren't that many people about, so she 
was able to discard even this coat when she got a seat on 
the underground train until she got near enough to the city 
centre. Nudism is still illegal in most places, although 
toplessness was rarely frowned on except at particular 
places like the Opera or the work-place. It was a relief 
when Emma got to work and was able to hang the coat up. 
It was an old coat that made her look a bit like a tramp, but 
Emma made a point of never evaluating clothes except on 
the basis of how much flesh they covered. 

She wasn't the strictest naturist imaginable. She 
occasionally trimmed her thick mousey-brown hair, which 
grew to half-way down her back, and she regularly 
washed it. She also took care to wear something on her feet 
- but strictly of a utilitarian nature. Because it was spring, 
these were currently little flat-soled booties with fur lining 
as Emma didn't wear socks. However, she never wore 
make-up and she never shaved any of the hair on her body, 
particularly not around her cunt which had a rich thick body 
of hair slightly darker than the hair on her head.  

After the program finished, there was the usual discussion 
on how the program went and then there would normally 
have been the briefing where staff discussed which items 
would be scheduled for future presentation. Unexpectedly, 
however, Emma was summoned to the Managing Director's 
office. What could this mean? Emma wondered. Perhaps this 
was another employer, like her last, Sun TV, a holiday TV 
station, who were tightening up on the licence they 
allowed their staff. 

The Managing Director was a small man with a penchant 
for cigars, which Emma found thoroughly disgusting but 
she restrained the temptation to comment. His office 
resembled that of most Managing Directors except for 
the scattered pictures of Harlot TV presenters in different 
degrees of undress. 

"This is going to be a very confidential meeting between 
just you and me, Emma," the Managing Director 
announced. "The main point is that I'm taking you off 
Arouse Yourself." 

This hit Emma as the least welcome news she could 
imagine. She'd enjoyed working for the program and had 
got the distinct impression that the rest of the program staff 
got on with her and had a high regard for her abilities. Sure, 
there had been difficulties at the beginning with the male 
staff trying to seduce her on the misapprehension she was 
like those other naturists who equated freedom from the 
tyranny of clothes as the freedom to fuck whoever you 
wanted all the time. 

"Is that because of my naturist views?" Emma ventured to 
ask. 

"No, not at all!" reassured the Managing Director. "Some 
20% of my staff are naturists of one kind or another - most 
being men of course. No, the only odd thing is that you're 
in the minority of naturists here who aren't presenters or 
stand-ins! I'm taking you off because I want to give you a 
more responsible job." 

"Thank you, sir. That's a great relief." 

"As you know, Harlot TV has wanted to get Four X rating 
for a long time. You must know how limiting it is for us 
when we have to skirt round such things as under-age sex, 
sado-masochism, bestiality, and so on. It takes great skill to 
work within the limits that are set for us as a Three X 
station. Well, and this is highly confidential, we will be 
getting Four X status soon. The Minister for the Arts and 
Entertainment has personally assured me that the quality of 
our programming is now of a high enough and responsible 
level for us to get that extra X. This will do wonders for our 
prestige, increase our audience figures, boost advertising 
revenue and improve the value of the Company's shares!" 

"That's wonderful news!" exclaimed Emma. Perhaps she 
was going to get more pay. But she wouldn't do any sex 
and certainly not on television. 

"You are a very presentable and responsible young lady, 
Emma. I've heard very good reports about you from all at 
Arouse Yourself. Perhaps at some future stage we might 
find a job for you as a presenter on a program - not one I 
hasten to add involving sex, as I gather that's not to your 
taste, but on naturist issues. No, I want you to do some 
confidential research for me." 

"Research?" 

"Yes. A job requiring discretion and dedication but most of 
all secrecy. Which is why you are perfect. Not even staff of 
Harlot TV, let alone our competitors must know of the 
fact that we will be getting that extra X. It could ruin 
everything!" 

The Managing Director then went on to explain that the 
Research would be to scour around for material from the 
video companies, foreign countries or wherever that would 
be suitable for Four X program scheduling policy, so that 
when the extra X was officially awarded all would be in 
place for rapid implementation. She would not need to come to 
the office except to use office facilities when necessary, her 
expenses would be automatically paid by the company and 
her official role was General Programming Research 
Assistant. 




	II

Emma left for home nearly forgetting to put Charlotte's 
coat on. The new responsibility would transform her life, 
she was sure of it. At the very least, she wouldn't have to 
leave for work so very early in the morning from now on. It 
did mean that she would have to be just that little bit more 
careful about how few clothes she wore to work, just as she 
had to be coming home. 

Her home was a three bedroom flat she shared with two 
other girls. Her closest friend, Charlotte, was in the room 
adjacent to hers, with a connecting door which was usually 
left open. Charlotte wasn't a naturist but she wore no 
clothes round the home, apparently from respect for Emma. 
Indeed, Charlotte had quite good dress sense which was 
useful for Emma whenever she needed to borrow a dress or 
a coat to go shopping or to work. Charlotte also claimed to 
be a lesbian, which was strange because she never once 
brought a woman friend back home with her. She did, 
however, come home with male friends on a not too regular 
basis and judging by the very noisy reception she gave 
them, Emma felt no reason to doubt Charlotte's passion. 
Nevertheless, it was a little embarrassing how on the more 
regular occasions Charlotte got a little tipsy, she would 
declare her love for Emma. 

Charlotte worked for the Civil Service, but envied the 
glamour of Emma's job. She would put her head on Emma's 
lap to have her hair stroked and entice Emma to tell her 
once again about the famous guests on her programs and 
the more sexy television encounters. Emma had a mostly 
professional pride in this as in almost all cases the most 
successful interviews were those she had most meticulously 
planned. 

The other flatmate was Harriett who was a presenter on a 
rival station to Harlot TV, called Semen South West, 
(which did not reflect any regional bias). SSW was a Three 
X station that had only recently obtained its third X, so 
Harriett had needed some re-training. It was no longer 
sufficient for her merely to stimulate penises: she now also 
had to bring them to ejaculation. It was more important for 
her to maintain her composure when she might have to 
make love with several people in a single half-hour 
program. The show she presented was called Swimming 
Pool Sex, which generally featured her in the various 
athletic positions she could adopt in a swimming pool. This 
meant that she had to be a very good swimmer as well as a 
sexual athlete. The extra X meant it was more important 
than ever to heave the penis out of the water at the moment 
of ejaculation so that all could be shown to the cameras. 

Harriett was obsessed by the art and technique of her trade. 
She often watched sex television to learn from other 
presenters and her conversations frequently drifted towards 
what she had done in a recent program or what she was 
practising for her next program. She undoubtedly practised: 
barely a night went by with Harriett not bringing home a 
man, often the night before they were due to perform 
together on television. 

Harriett had one professional worry which was that the 
extra X might oblige her to make love to a woman. It was 
not the professional aspect that bothered her, but her 
worries about doing something that as a heterosexual she 
wouldn't really enjoy. "Perhaps," she would ask Charlotte 
as sweetly as she could, "I could lose some of my fear if I 
practised with you." Curiously, for a lesbian with little 
compunction for sex with men, Charlotte appeared to have 
little interest in accepting this offer. 

Emma would be seeing much more of her flatmates, now 
that her work would be mostly done at home. 

The first batch of videos Emma identified as worth 
exploring were known as naturist Classics, produced by a 
small European production company. At present, they were 
not broadcast on any national television stations but were 
nonetheless selling quite respectably in video rentals. As a 
naturist, this rather intrigued Emma and she thought that 
her exploration should start somewhere where it might 
coincide with her own interests. 

The practise of Naturist Classics was to take a piece of 
well-known literature or drama and present it in the nude. 
This meant naked Wuthering Heights, naked David 
Copperfield and naked Passage To India. As Emma soon 
found out, these were virtually unchanged from the original 
text, apart from that the cast wore no clothes, however 
apparently inappropriate this might seem even to Emma. 
The appeal of these videos at first eluded Emma, and she 
could see no objection to screening these films on day-time 
national television. In the case of Lady Chatterley's Lover, 
Nana and Tom Jones she wasn't too surprised that the sex 
scenes were considerably more explicit, more prominent in 
the plot and more frequent than in the original novels, so 
perhaps that was why they were destined for specialist 
tastes. However, Emma couldn't really recall that there had 
been sex scenes in the originals of Jane Eyre, Moby Dick 
and Anna Karenin, but she accepted the licence for them 
to be in the naturist versions. 

From a technical perspective, the films were very curiously 
filmed, but it took Emma a while to determine why. 

"It's all in medium to long shot," explained Harriett, who 
had a professional interest in how much was required to be 
shown in a shot. 

Indeed, unlike most television drama, the scenes were set 
up so that as much of the main characters' torso and 
genitalia would be on screen in any frame. Furthermore, it 
soon became clear that however innocent the content of the 
scene the characters always seemed to be sexually aroused. 
Mouths pouted unnaturally, the vulva and nipples were 
unusually bright and either the men were always half-aroused 
or had been stimulated to be so. In any case, their penises 
never resembled the shrivelled little things that Emma more 
often associated with naturist men, but more like Harlot TV 
male presenters as they were readying themselves. 

More investigation revealed more of the appeal of Naturist 
Classics. Although less than a half of its listing consisted of 
children's classics, more than 80% of its sales were of these 
videos. It seemed unlikely to Emma that there were that 
many naturist children, so she took an especial interest in 
these films.  

Like the adult canon, the children's classics featured all their 
cast of mostly children in the nude. Again, the content was 
ostensibly quite innocent, if a bit bizarre. A naturist 
Swallows and Amazons featured the two gangs of children 
running around naked, with rather young and 
well-developed parents who often seemed more fond of 
their children than seemed normal, but not obscenely so. A 
naturist Famous Five again featured naked children, who if 
anything were younger than those in Enid Blyton's books. 
A naturist Alice in Wonderland featured a naked six year 
old girl who seemed overawed by the nearly tumescent 
penises and swelling nipples of the not very well disguised 
actors playing the menagerie of fantastic characters.  

Emma came to the conclusion that, sadly, the role of 
Naturist Classics was to provide titillating images of naked 
children in absurd situations for those who liked that sort 
of thing. The lack of overt sex, at least with children, and 
the plots which conformed to a certain extent to their 
source material, didn't detract at all from the titillation 
this was no doubt meant to provide. Emma could see a role 
for Naturist Classics on Harlot TV, and certainly the 
content fell well within the bounds of what was permitted 
for a Four X station. The question would be its scheduling. 
Mid-afternoon, she decided. The titillatory value was best 
served by keeping up the pretence that it was educational 
entertainment, but it was necessary to keep an eye on the 
content to ensure it never got emboldened to the extent 
of actually showing child sex, which was totally 
illegal. 

A more difficult question which Emma fortunately didn't 
need to worry about with Naturist Classics was where to 
draw the line on what constitutes child sex. The affection 
that a lot of the children seemed unabashed about 
expressing to each other, especially in The Railway 
Children, which hinted obliquely at incest, kept sufficiently 
clear of the genitals or the anus not to be considered sex, 
but would that have been so true if adults were equally as 
affectionate with the children? 

"Would you perform in a film like this?" Emma asked 
Harriett who was languidly watching Oliver Twist. The 
scene showed the children in Fagin's den holding each other 
tight against the cold, including some little girls, while a 
naked Artful Dodger was striding up and down with a 
half-tumescent sub-teen penis. 

"Why not," Harriett yawned. "At least if you get something 
wrong on a film, it can be re-recorded. When you slip up on 
live television, then everyone can see!"                   
	
Albania had taken a very strange turn in its pornographic 
industry. From a period when it would let virtually anything 
go, Albanian hard core porn now prohibited the sexual act. 
However, excretion hadn't been proscribed and although 
there wasn't much of a demand for coprophilia, urination 
was now used as an acceptable metaphor for sex. Consequently, 
Albanian pornography was now known as Piss TV, because that 
is precisely what there was a lot of. 

Although Emma couldn't imagine the appeal herself, she sat 
herself in front of a pile of videos from Albania with 
Charlotte for a second opinion. Charlotte didn't enjoy 
pornography at the best of times, but she felt lonely and 
needed some attention which Emma indulgently provided. 
Indeed, Charlotte scarcely watched the videos at all. She 
simply rested her head on Emma's naked lap and purred 
into her warm crotch. When she got restive she'd take a 
hair from Emma's crotch in her teeth and stretch it out until 
Emma had to stop her. 

Emma couldn't speak a word of Albanian and the videos 
were neither subtitled nor dubbed. They had fairly 
conventional story-lines, neither better nor worse than 
those which dominated national pornography. They were 
essentially variations on the theme of sexually attracted 
individuals coming together and consummating their 
passion on often the most arbitrary of excuses and with 
sufficient aspects of kinkiness to maintain some level of 
interest. However, the crucial difference was that, whereas 
in most pornographic films the sexual encounters involved 
some kind of stimulation of the genitals and penetration 
of an orifice, in Albanian films one or the other would 
start peeing all over the partner or partners. There 
were scenes of women pissing on men's faces, clothes, 
genitals and hair, and men doing much the same to women. 
 

Sexual perversions by use of this metaphor were actually 
more commonly shown of children pissing on each other, 
parents pissing on children, animals being pissed on and so 
on. In only a minority of films was the urine licked or 
ingested by one of the protagonists, but this was clearly a 
growing trend as demonstrated in the more recent films. 

"Uhh! How awful!" groaned Charlotte in one scene as one 
man pissed straight into the mouths of two apparently 
enthusiastic women who then proceeded to lick the urine 
off each other. 

"I'm sure it's not real piss," said Emma reassuringly. 

This wasn't her real opinion, as she knew too well from 
working at Harlot TV, the viewers wanted to be sure that 
what they were seeing had at one time actually happened. 
She wasn't sure what market there could be for Piss 
Television on Harlot TV, but perhaps repackaged as a 
'Golden Showers' feature with some studio participation 
it could become the basis for something of interest to 
viewers. 

"Is there anything about these films you like?" Emma 
solicited of Charlotte. 

"I like the language," Charlotte giggled. 

"But besides that. I mean, could you imagine wanting to 
watch someone piss on TV?" 

"I can't. But ask Harriett. I'm sure her guests are always 
pissing in her swimming pool." 

Harriett didn't much like the films either. "There's no 
physical element. They just stand apart and piss on each 
other. And its unhygienic." 

So, Emma thought, a health warning would need to be 
included, and it might be difficult getting the ingestion and 
licking episodes past the censors for hygienic reasons alone. 
However, her instinct told her that if people in Albania 
were happy to see films about people pissing on each other, 
they probably would be at home. Her concept of 'Golden 
Showers' was developing. 

"Perhaps we could get guests to show how far they can 
piss. Have sort of pissing games - you know for accuracy 
and volume. Have a compere who would always have urine 
stains on her dress. Show people pissing in public places. 
And show snippets of these films in the program." 

"Well, I wouldn't want to watch it," asserted Charlotte. 

"And I wouldn't dream of appearing on it," said Harriett. 
"The only reason you're interested in this, Emma, is that 
there's no sex in pissing and you don't like sex." 

"Yes, sweetness," laughed Charlotte. "You could do the 
show and still be a virgin!" 

Emma blushed. "I'm sure - you know - well ..." 

Charlotte smothered Emma's face with affectionate kisses. 
"Oh, you're such a sweetie! I love you! I really love you! 
Please please let me make love to you." 

"No!" said Emma firmly, pleased to be in a position of 
power again. 


	III

Emma was at home more often than she used to be, so she 
met Harriett much more frequently now. Harriett's hours 
of work were determined by the demands of her job which 
varied considerably from both week to week and day to 
day. Generally, Harriett was as likely to be at home 
during the day as in the evening or weekend. 

Emma returned from visiting a video company she'd been 
investigating. This company made sex cartoon films which 
concentrated on a set of standard characters with rather 
exaggerated sexual characteristics. This included a woman 
with 80 inch breasts, a man with a twenty-four inch prick, a 
woman with buttocks she could bounce on, and so on. Sex 
cartoons were able to deal with subjects which a Four X 
station would be able to screen with less worry than if they 
contained real people, but Emma was worried about the 
suitability of bestiality and child sex displayed in some of 
them. Her biggest concern was with the rape cartoons, 
where violent rape was somehow disguised as comedy. 

When she got home, she was surprised to find Harriett in 
the living room sitting on the sofa with her head in her 
hands and to hear small sobs come from her. Harriett was 
normally so cheerful, so this was especially strange. Emma 
threw off Charlottes's overcoat, ran over to Harriett and 
put an arm round her shoulder. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, studying Harriett's tear-
streaked face. 

"Nothing," sniffed Harriett. "Nothing." 

"Don't be silly!" Emma said. "There must be something." 

"It's work," Harriett admitted. 

"Yes?" 

"You know that we've got this Three X rating and my work 
would have to change..." 

"...Yes." 

"...and I've got to make love with a woman, and ... and now 
I've been told that I'm going to have to do it soon ... and 
I've been trying to say I can't ... but it's my job and I don't 
want to lose it ... but I don't know if I can ..." 

"But you can make love with a woman can't you?" 
wondered Emma who'd watched so much lesbian sex on 
research videos recently and of course had also helped to 
organise such activities for breakfast television. 

"Well no!" said Harriett. "I've never done so ... and I don't 
think I could ... especially with cameras on me ... I'm just 
not like that." 

"Neither am I," sniffed Emma. "But I'm sure you can make 
love with a woman without it meaning very much." 

"But it's different when it's with men. You don't know. You 
don't do it, but if you enjoy making love you can at least 
concentrate on that and not the cameras or anything ... and 
I'm going to do that soon." 

"But Harriett ... I'm sure you can do it," said Emma 
reassuringly, hugging Harriett's shoulders. Harriett sniffed, 
but started weeping again. 

"I don't think I can," she sobbed. "I can't! I can't!" 

"Can I help in any way?" wondered Emma with a surge of 
affection for Harriett. 

"In what way? You're not a lesbian!" 

"Isn't that better? Perhaps if I'm not a lesbian, it'd be better. 
Perhaps we could pretend and perhaps it will be better for 
you." 

"Do you mean make love with you?" 

"Of course not!" said Emma, genuinely shocked. "But we 
could sort of masturbate together and feel each other. 
That's not sex. And I certainly don't want sex. But perhaps 
it'll make it easier for you when you have to do it at work." 

"Are you serious, Emma?" said Harriett who had stopped 
crying. "You don't mind?" 

"Well, it won't be sex, will it?" 

"Shall I take my clothes off?" 

"Of course," smiled Emma, who of course wasn't wearing 
anything anyway. Harriett quickly pulled off the nylon 
shorts and jersey she always wore. As Harriett removed 
them, Emma thought with a sudden jump in her breast that 
this was in fact the first time, after all these months of 
living in the same flat, that she'd ever seen Harriett naked. 
Even when she had a bath, she wore a towel around her. It 
was curious that Harriett must have got very used to seeing 
Emma and Charlotte without clothes. Emma had seen 
Harriett on television with no clothes making love, but 
somehow that was not the same as being in the same room 
as her. Harriett had a very athletic body, with medium to 
small breasts, a taut stomach, and slim buttocks and thighs. 
 

"What do we do?" asked Emma uneasily. 

"Touch ourselves," said Harriett. "Nothing more."  

At first this was very awkward, as the two girls touched 
and stroked each others' bodies and occasionally kissed 
each other on the cheek or shoulder. Emma put her head on 
Harriett's stomach and put her tongue into Harriett's 
navel. "That's nice," said Harriett appreciatively. More 
emboldened, Emma started licking Harriett's skin and 
Harriett reciprocated. They continued like this for ever 
such a long time. 

"It's not making love, is it?" wondered Emma. 

"We're not lesbians. How can it be?" 

"Should we masturbate?" 

"Only if it feels right." 

"Maybe it does," answered Emma who placed her fingers 
on her clitoris and stroked and worried it while kissing and 
stroking Harriett, who smiled and watched Emma's fingers 
moving in and out, up and down. "I've never seen a woman 
do that before." 

"I've only seen Charlotte do it, but I try not to watch." 

Emma and Harriett were playing together for several hours 
of masturbating and stroking each other, kissing 
themselves, but nothing sexual, no tongue-kissing, nothing 
like that. They were still experimenting when Charlotte 
came home.  

She stood at the door of the living room, still in her clothes 
which she'd not taken off and watched in growing horror as 
she established first what was going on and who the two 
naked girls were. She then released a cry of pain and 
sobbed uncontrollably. 

Emma and Harriett hadn't noticed Charlotte arrive and were 
startled. They stopped what they were doing, and Emma ran 
over to comfort Charlotte. "What's wrong?" she asked 
trying to put her arm round Charlotte's shoulders. 

"You know exactly what's wrong. It's me who loves you. 
I'm the one that loves you. I want to make love with you. I 
love you so much it hurts. But you make love with Harriett 
who can make love to as many people as she likes. I love 
you so much it hurts." 

"But it's not what you think..." Emma tried to explain. 
"Harriett's just practising for her television program. 
Neither of us is lesbian, so it's not the real thing." 

"So, if you're not lesbian it's all right is it?" sobbed 
Charlotte. "So if you love someone you are made to feel so 
frustrated that your heart aches with a hurt you can't 
describe. You think about that person every day, and your 
mood changes with every smile and rebuke of that person. 
You feel a pain that won't go away. But if you don't love 
someone, you can have sex with that person all the time." 

"Don't be silly, Charlotte," rejoined Harriett. "We're not 
lovers and we haven't been making love." 

"You're my best friend, Charlotte," reassured Emma. "Our 
friendship isn't to do with sex. Nor is my friendship with 
Harriett to do with sex." 

"It looks like sex to me!" sobbed Charlotte who ran into her 
room. She threw herself on the bed, and fully clothed she 
stayed there crying and sobbing all night. Harriett, who 
tactfully put her clothes back on, and Emma tried to 
console her but to no avail. "I'm the one who loves you," 
repeated Charlotte. "Why don't you return my love?" 

"But Charlotte, I'm not a lesbian. How could I love you 
except as a friend?"        	

A few days later, Emma was again at home wading through 
a pile of videos in the series of Hollywood Sex Classics. 
These were essentially old classic films such as Casablanca, 
Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz and Citizen Kane which 
had extra scenes added to them to gain a Four X certification. 
This was achieved mostly by computer graphics and it worked 
by taking a scene in the film where there was any love 
interest and considerably extending it. So, in a film such as 
Gone With The Wind in any scene where the two main 
characters might be kissing, the faces and other features 
would then be, by computer emulation, superimposed on 
footage of some porn actors and actresses indulging in full 
sex so that it would seem that Cary Grant, Greta Garbo or 
Lauren Bacall were the characters doing so. 

In Wizard of Oz this produced a scene where Dorothy had 
full carnal knowledge of the Scarecrow and of the Wicked 
Witch of the North. Emma found all this faintly amusing. It 
was strange to imagine ET having such a massive sexual 
organ and even more strange to see such a young child 
apparently enjoying it. It was strange to see Humphrey 
Bogart having sex with so many different women. It was 
perhaps a little shocking to see the Seven Dwarfs take turns 
with Snow White or to see Luke Skywalker have anal 
intercourse with Princess Leia. However, for practical 
purposes the issue was really whether or not the films 
infringed any copyright laws - though in most cases the 
copyrights had expired many years before. 

Emma had just got to the part in a Fred Astaire and Ginger 
Rogers film where the two pulled off their clothes and 
fucked in front of some delighted onlookers when she 
became aware that Harriett had come in. 

"Hello," she greeted, "How's your day been?" 

"Nothing special," Harriett answered coming over to Emma 
and putting her arms round Emma's shoulders in a friendly 
way. "What are you watching now? Not more Tap Dancing 
with dicks?" 

"I'm afraid so," laughed Emma, turning her head round. She 
was a little surprised to see that Harriett wasn't wearing any 
clothes, but she supposed that perhaps with both Charlotte 
and she being practicing naturists Harriett had decided to 
discard her clothes. Neither of the girls had made any 
comment about their recent intimacy, although Charlotte 
was still fairly upset. Couldn't she realise, wondered Emma, 
that making love wasn't the same as being in love? It's one 
thing, she was sure, to be intimate with someone and 
another for it to have any real significance. 

"I'm sure Ginger Rogers wasn't as expert at sucking pricks 
as in this film," commented Harriett.  

"You should see what Dorothy gets up to with the Tin 
Man," Emma responded. 

"Look at Ginger's cunt. She's a genuine redhead. And I 
don't mean what's going in and out of her cunt." 

"Is there a difference between pubic hairs and other hairs?" 
wondered Emma. 

"Well," commented Harriett, "your hair's a sort of mousy 
colour but your pubes are just a little bit darker." She put 
her hand into Emma's thick mass of pubic hair and started 
pulling and stroking it. 

"What about yours?" wondered Emma, taking her eyes from 
Ginger and Fred fucking and screaming and looked at 
Harriett's somewhat thinner bush of hair.  

"Have a good look," smiled Harriett, guiding Emma's hand 
into it. The two girls stroked each other's groins for a 
moment until Harriett made bold to kiss Emma full on the 
mouth. 

Emma pushed Harriett off. 

"Don't!" she admonished. 

Harriett smiled coyly and then said: "Wasn't it fun the other 
day? I'm sure it'll help me in my work." 

"Haven't you had your lesbian session yet?" 

"Not yet. It's been postponed for a couple of weeks - but I 
can't say I'm sorry." 

"Why's that?" 

"Well," smiled Harriett shyly, "you're still my only 
experience. I'm just as much a virgin as you." 

"Don't be silly." 

"Don't be silly yourself!" responded Harriett putting her 
mouth to Emma's again. This time Emma didn't push Harriett 
off, but as the two girls' intimacy gradually grew Emma 
wasn't at all sure at which stage the activity stopped 
being one of playing and became one where there was a 
sense of seriousness and urgency to it. Certainly, she loved 
holding and feeling and licking Harriett's fit and 
muscular body. She loved the little freckles around 
Harriett's nose and the other slightly larger ones speckled 
over her shoulders. She loved the feel of Harriett's fingers 
as they probed in and out of her cunt. She loved the 
moistness of the feel of Harriett's own cunt as her fingers 
went in and out.  	

"OOh! OOOHHH! OOOHH!" she gasped as Harriett's tongue worked 
around her clitoris. She pushed her tongue deep into Harriett'
s mouth and relished the taste of her own cunt on Harriett's 
tongue. The two of them struggled with their mouths pushing 
hard against the other, their fingers frantically working at 
the other's clitoris. 

After Emma's first orgasm, the intensity was so great she 
couldn't imagine it could ever be matched. But it was only 
moments later Emma gave vent to a scream she just couldn't 
contain. And then another. And then another. She only became 
distantly aware that Harriett was also making rather a lot 
of noise. And then as their slippery bodies slid against 
each other the two gave a great shuddering at the same 
time with such intensity that they had to push each 
other off. 

They lay back looking at each other. This isn't real sex, 
Emma said to herself. I don't go after women and I'm not in 
love with Harriett. But she enjoyed it nonetheless. 

"We must do this again," commented Harriett smiling in a 
way that seemed both very silly and funny and impossibly 
endearing. 

"How about now?" responded Emma leaning forward and 
running her tongue round Harriett's much swollen clitoris. 


	IV


Although Charlotte considered herself to be essentially a 
lesbian, this didn't mean she didn't enjoy male company. 
Indeed, it flattered her when men showed interest in her. 
So it wasn't too surprising that after a little persuading 
from her colleague, Jonathan, Charlotte invited him to 
visit for dinner. Jonathan was quite a shy young man, who 
thought he saw a kindred spirit in Charlotte who worked 
opposite him in the Approvals section of the department. 

Jonathan was quite prepared to see Emma naked when he 
arrived. And there, just as Charlotte had warned, was 
Emma seated in front of a television watching a video 
showing men making love to other men. Not his kind of 
film, but Jonathan had been warned of the nature of the 
research Emma was undertaking so he was less surprised 
than he might otherwise have been. Another girl was also 
watching television who Charlotte introduced as Harriett. 
Charlotte was herself rather surprised to find Harriett was 
also not wearing any clothes except for what was perhaps 
the bottom of a swimming costume. However, Charlotte 
made no comment as she usually wore less than that, but 
she nonetheless felt an acute pang of jealousy. 

Emma and Harriett were very civil to Jonathan and asked 
him questions about his work and what Charlotte was like 
to work with, while the hostess in the meantime was busy 
in the kitchen preparing a meal for the four of them. 
Jonathan occasionally popped into the kitchen to pass a few 
words with her. 

"Your friends seem very affectionate towards you," he 
commented. 

"Affectionate?" wondered Charlotte, as she put the potatoes 
into the oven.  

"Well, fond of you," he laughed. "Actually," he commented, 
"it is a bit disconcerting your friends not wearing clothes. I 
don't know where to look." 

"Just be discreet," advised Charlotte, wondering how 
disconcerted Jonathan would be in a normally naturist 
household. 

The meal was a success. Charlotte was delighted by the 
praise her cooking got from Emma and Harriet. "You 
ought to have friends round more often," smiled Emma 
holding Charlotte's hand tightly in hers. Charlotte felt a 
sudden flush of affection for Emma, but with Jonathan and 
Harriett there she couldn't kiss her as she wanted to, but 
she reciprocated Emma's squeeze and smiled back 
affectionately. 

"Don't worry about the washing up," volunteered Harriett 
when the last of the bottle of wine was drunk and the 
cheese board was bare. Charlotte smiled, and Jonathan 
regarded her longingly. Experience told Charlotte what the 
look meant and she had no intention of disappointing him. 
Indeed, while Emma and Harriett settled in the kitchen to 
wash and dry up, Charlotte took Jonathan to her room to 
consummate the evening. 

Knowing how shy Jonathan was, and in any case itching 
from the unaccustomed feel of clothes in the flat (which 
was always kept warm for Emma's benefit), Charlotte took 
the incentive in taking off her clothes. It took little more 
persuasion for Jonathan to undress and for her to take his 
throbbing member into her palm to hasten the process. His 
penis trembled excitedly, but she didn't want it spurting 
wasted all over the carpet. She took her hand away, and 
massaged and pecked Jonathan about the face, chest and 
upper thighs. It took all Charlotte's skill to delay the 
time when the two fell onto the bed and for Jonathan to 
hump away on top of her. 

Charlotte always found sex with men slightly amusing - she 
could never find it disgusting as she was sure lesbians 
should do. And she also found it very exciting. As Emma 
had often commented, when Charlotte got very excited she 
got carried away and would soon be screaming with 
ecstasy. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was Jonathan 
or perhaps it was the warm feeling of affection she'd got 
from Emma, but she felt exceptionally passionate today. 
As she screamed out while Jonathan hammered away, his 
tongue in her ear and Charlotte's legs wrapped around his 
waist, she knew that it might disturb the neighbours let 
alone be audible to Emma and Harriett, but she didn't care. 

After an hour or so, Charlotte was quite exhausted, so she 
wandered naked out of her bedroom to the kitchen to get 
some beers out of the refrigerator. Both of them were now 
very hot and sticky - rivulets of perspiration running down 
their faces and shining on their bellies. Emma was already in 
the kitchen making some sandwiches for the following day. 
Charlotte was a little embarrassed to encounter Emma with 
the smell of sex emanating so strongly from her. The hairs 
of her vagina were a soggy mess and she felt a drip of 
semen flow slowly out from her vagina and down the inside 
of her thigh. Unthinkingly, she glanced down at it and when 
she looked up she could see that Emma's eyes had also been 
drawn there.  

"I can see you and your friend are having a very pleasant 
time," remarked Emma kindly. "He is staying the night isn't 
he?" 

"Well, if he wants to," Charlotte replied. 

Emma smiled and leant over to kiss Emma on the face. 
Charlotte responded by grabbing Emma round the shoulders 
and showering kisses on her face and squeezing her against 
her sweaty front. Emma gently pushed Charlotte off. 

"Don't be silly, Charlotte," she admonished. 

Charlotte felt even more aroused after her encounter with 
Emma and in the ensuing lovemaking with Jonathan it was 
Emma who was foremost in Charlotte's thoughts as 
Jonathan thrust away. Charlotte forced Jonathan to enter 
her from other positions - including from behind (but not, 
despite Jonathan's entreaties, into the anus). Charlotte's 
screams and cries echoed into the night and soon there was 
no more to do than lie back and recover. Charlotte's crotch 
ached from the battering it had taken, but it was a pleasant 
ache that reminded her of all her recent passion. She 
studied Jonathan's shrivelled penis which was still moist and 
shiny if no longer so very appealing. Charlotte tenderly 
kissed it and stroked Jonathan's testicles, but carefully so as 
not to wake him. He was a nice boy, Charlotte felt, but her 
first love was always Emma. Just the thought of her hug 
with Emma filled Charlotte with enormous desire. 

This aching passion for Emma compelled Charlotte to push 
open the door leading to Emma's room. She often did this 
to relish Emma sleeping peacefully in her bed. Sometimes, 
Charlotte would sit for hours by Emma as she slept just to 
feel the pleasure of her closeness and the sound of her 
breath. She loved the cherubic expression on Emma's face 
as she breathed. She loved the opportunity to study what 
she could see of Emma's naked body, without being 
accused of voyeurism. The wonderful breasts, that slender 
waist, the hair that fanned out over the sheets and tangled 
in her nipple. 

Emma wasn't in bed, nor did it look like the sheets were 
disturbed. A little alarmed, Charlotte wandered through 
Emma's bedroom and then around the living room and 
kitchen. No sign of her there. But she could hear a 
giggle. Charlotte started. Nothing! And then again, just a 
little louder followed by a tiny shriek. It was coming from 
Harriett's bedroom. 

Harriett often had lovers staying the night, so this wasn't 
unusual - but with Emma not in her bed, Charlotte feared 
the worst as she softly pushed open Harriett's bedroom 
door. The walls of Harriett's room were covered with 
posters of sporting heroes and heroines, and it was these 
that Charlotte first saw as her eyes became accustomed to 
the light shining in from the street lamp through the 
window. Then, as she feared, she saw Emma and Harriett 
together in bed kissing and cuddling each other. No! 
Charlotte corrected herself. It was Harriett spreadeagled, 
arse towards the door with Emma underneath busily 
tonguing her vagina. 

Charlotte gasped. 

Emma looked up, startled. "Oh, it's you!" she said, 
sounding not too pleased. "What do you want?" 

"I ... I ... just wondered why you weren't in your bed." 

"Who could possibly sleep with you and Jonathan making 
so much noise in the room next door?"

"But ... but..." Charlotte gasped, the few remaining tatters 
of her dream that Emma was in truth reserved for her flying 
and scattering as Harriett and Emma readjusted themselves 
to face her, both naked, both sweaty, both with the hair on 
the head and below bedraggled and ragged, neither looking 
too amused. 

"Charlotte," said Harriett reasonably. "What Emma and I 
do is not your business - and besides you're clearly having 
quite a fun time with your boyfriend." 

"It's not the ... not the same," Charlotte stuttered on the 
edge of tears. 

"It is," Harriett insisted. 

"No, it isn't," contradicted Emma. "You're having sex with 
a boy. I'm merely being affectionate with a friend. You have 
nothing to be jealous about. So go to bed." 

Charlotte sighed. She wouldn't be able to resolve this by 
crying. She smiled sadly and defeated as she eased 
Harriett's door shut. 

"Good night," called one of Harriett or Emma as she left. 

"Good night," mumbled Charlotte as she returned to her 
bed which, with Jonathan in it, seemed too crowded and 
even uninviting now. 


	V

After Charlotte's discovery of the two girls together, 
Harriett and Emma no longer made even the slightest 
pretence that there was nothing between them. Charlotte 
became accustomed to finding the couple entwined around 
each other in the living room and elsewhere, and her sense 
of betrayal and frustration gradually receded in the face of a 
fact that couldn't now be changed. Charlotte tried to look 
away from their activities, but her eyes still strayed towards 
them, although there was nothing too overtly sexual in their 
behaviour. As long as they just cuddle, Charlotte said to 
herself, I can still dream. She gazed longingly at Emma, 
but she felt constrained from even kissing or hugging her. 
Contrarily, Emma was much more affectionate towards 
Charlotte - stroking her hair, kissing her cheeks, patting her 
buttocks - but never in a way that could be construed as a 
sexual invitation. 

Emma was concerned that Harriett shouldn't lose sight of 
the original intention of their intimacy. "Perhaps now," she 
suggested, "we've practised enough and we should find out 
how you actually would perform in front of the camera." 

"But how would we do that?" wondered Harriett from 
between Emma's legs, a few loose hairs in her teeth. 

"I've got a video recorder and we can ask Charlotte to film 
us," suggested Emma matter-of-factly. 

And indeed that's what they did next time they saw Charlotte 
just as she was returning from work. She was just pulling off 
her knickers - always the last item she took off as to her it 
marked the moment she progressed from merely undressed to nude. 
It was not a welcome suggestion, but there was probably no 
favour that Emma could ask that Charlotte wouldn't 
perform. Even scorned in love, Charlotte reasoned, she 
could show how pure and unselfish her love was. She still 
hoped that Harriett was merely a phase in Emma's love life 
and that soon her true love would return to her, an 
altogether better candidate. 

"I've never used one before," Charlotte answered, hoping 
this could be the excuse to avoid the humiliation of filming 
the woman she loved making love to another woman. "And 
certainly not for something like that." 

"Don't be silly," said Harriett. "There's nothing to it. It's 
auto-focus. All you've got to do is point it in the right 
direction and make sure it's rolling." 

"Isn't there some art to it?" wondered Charlotte. "The right 
angles and so on." 

"We're not asking you to make an art film," Emma laughed. 
"We just want to see what Harriett's like, so that when she 
makes love with a woman professionally it all goes well. No 
one's going to watch it except Harriett and me."  

"And anyway if you think the cameramen at work are 
making art, you're sadly mistaken," laughed Harriett. "All 
they do is what we're asking you to do. Just film us making 
love and point the camera at the interesting bits." 

"The interesting bits?" 

"Don't be so naive!" Emma exclaimed amusedly, leaning 
over and kissing Charlotte on the mouth. "I'm sure you'll 
have no difficulty in working out which they are." 

Emma and Harriett spent about an hour together in the 
bathroom to prepare for the filming, mostly soaping 
themselves in the shower and ensuring that their bodies 
were clean and their pubic hairs shining. Emma was 
fascinated to find that even Harriett, with her athletic slim 
body felt she needed more than just soap to look her best as 
she adorned make-up over her nipples and around her 
crotch. "It actually looks more natural on a video," she 
explained, but Emma wasn't persuaded. Her principles of 
naturism were too strict to permit such artifice. She did 
consent, however, to Harriett sucking and pulling on her 
nipples to ensure they were quite erect to start with. 

Charlotte practised, in the meantime, by filming around the 
living room and then playing the results back on the video 
player. It was very easy: technology had certainly come a 
long way. You just pointed the video recorder at something 
- say a chair - and it remained in focus as you moved 
towards it or away from it. Even in darkened parts of the 
room the recorder automatically widened its aperture to 
ensure that enough light entered the lens.  

"Are you ready?" wondered Emma coming out of the 
bathroom with a blow-dried crotch and a radiant 
expression. Charlotte couldn't help noticing how very stiff 
Emma's nipples were: they were normally pert but not that 
pert. 

Harriett suggested her own bedroom because her bed was 
the widest and there was better lighting. "And that's where 
I'm most relaxed anyway," Emma laughed. Charlotte was 
not amused. 

At first the exercise was very clumsy. It was very difficult 
for Emma to proceed knowing that Charlotte was filming 
her every move. She kept catching glimpses of the video 
recorder as it panned around her crotch and her breasts. 
Charlotte herself was thinking more of her own humiliation 
in filming the woman she loved doing the things she wanted 
to do, and found it difficult to keep her mind on the object 
of the exercise. However, the more experienced Harriett 
took everything in command. She kept half an eye on the 
camera and Charlotte and occasionally made signs to 
Charlotte as to where to point the camera. Emma 
appreciated how Harriett also took command of her 
love-making. Emma admired Harriett's professionalism as 
she guided Emma's mouth down to her vagina while 
stroking Emma's back and gesturing Charlotte to film 
Emma's frantic tongue. The skill was not only that of being 
able to make love unselfconsciously in front of other 
people, but of also maximising the activities for their erotic 
televisual potential. 

Charlotte was able to think as she filmed that perhaps this 
was not really Emma she was filming, but just a sex star on 
the sex videos Emma was bringing into the flat. Was it real 
sex? she wondered. She'd sometimes wondered that when 
watching these videos. However, as Emma relaxed more 
and became more excited by the eroticism of the occasion,  
it became evident to Charlotte that this was real sex. Emma 
emitted gasps and grunts that increased in frequency and 
were reciprocated by Harriett. "Oh God! Oh God!" she 
yelled from a sudden orgasmic shudder. Charlotte was 
taken aback, but she was herself aroused by Emma's 
arousal. Her thoughts focused on Emma and almost forgot 
that it was Harriett who was orchestrating the pleasure and 
whose tongue and teeth were working round Emma's 
vagina.  

Almost unconsciously, while holding the video camera in 
her right hand, her left hand wandered down to her own 
clitoris which she stroked to the same rhythm of Emma's 
orgasmic shudders. She found that her own vagina was 
moist. Oh! if only it was me that was giving Emma this 
pleasure, she sighed. 

All too soon for Emma, whose body glistened with 
perspiration, they were finished and the lovers lay on their 
backs in exhaustion. Charlotte was still filming, but on 
Harriett's prompting she had receded so that she could film 
the two girls together. 

"I wonder what it looks like," wondered Harriett signalling 
that Charlotte should now stop filming. As the company 
soon found out, it didn't have the gloss or sparkle 
associated with most television sex, and the video was 
peculiarly story-less, being just Harriett and Emma groping 
together. It was almost an emetic experience for Charlotte 
to see the two girls together again just as she had seen them 
earlier through the camera lens. 

"What do you think of our performance?" Emma asked 
Charlotte kindly as the action showed Emma's finger 
working in and out of Harriet's anus. 

"I don't think I know what to say," said Charlotte truthfully. 

"I still need practice," Harriett stated forcefully. "There are  
quite a few things I'm just not happy about. Not," she 
added, smiling at Emma, "in terms of your performance, 
but my own. I think we'll have to repeat the exercise again." 

Charlotte sighed inaudibly. She knew what Harriett's 
statement meant for her. However, she watched the rest of 
the video with the two lovers. After a while, both Emma and 
Harriett were stroking and rubbing their vaginas - and 
remembering her own excitement while filming Charlotte 
did the same thing. But she wasn't arousing herself at all. 
She was wondering if she could bear to stay and watch the 
rest of the video, when she heard a sharp gasp. 

Was it that part of the video already? wondered Charlotte 
watching again as Harriett's mouth worked around Emma's 
breasts which was held up in offering. No, it wasn't - she 
was sure - the video hadn't even got to the bit when 
Harriett had put almost all of her tongue into Emma's 
vagina. She turned her head to look at Emma and Harriett, 
and saw that they had started making love to each other 
again. 

Charlotte was then in a dilemma, which she could not 
reconcile. For the rest of the space of the video she had the 
choice of watching Emma and Harriett making love in the 
flesh or review them again on video. Eventually, she 
decided that the only thing she could do was leave. She went 
to her own bedroom and slumped on her bed. Away from 
Emma and Harriett she was now able to imagine herself 
making love to Emma and that she was the recipient of 
Emma's affection. And in this way she furiously 
masturbated herself and was eventually sufficiently 
exhausted to get to sleep and not reflect too much on her 
loss. 

Although Emma was becoming quite expert in making love, 
she could almost be considered to be a virgin - she had only 
once ever had full penetrative sex and that was not a 
particularly enjoyable experience. In fact, it had so upset 
Emma that she had lost interest in making love altogether: 
but as a result of her experiments with Harriett she felt sure 
that the time had come when she could lose her virginity in 
a more meaningful way. 

Charlotte really didn't see this as a shortcoming in Emma's 
sex life, indeed she had become rather used to seeing all the 
variations of it either through the camera lens or otherwise. 
Indeed, Emma and Harriett seemed to be making love all 
the time now. Whereas the two girls had previously been a 
little discreet, they now showed no compunction in 
cunnilingus or mutual masturbation or other such sexual 
activities when Charlotte was around. And Harriett 
continued to insist that Charlotte film the two girls 
together: an activity which was becoming more polished. The 
videos Charlotte was filming now were still technically poor 
and had no story content, but Emma had lost her initial 
shyness and had learnt techniques from Harriett which 
made her performance much more interesting to watch. 
Charlotte concentrated more on the technical aspects of 
filming, and Harriett no longer needed to indicate what 
views to take. 

Charlotte was watching one of these videos when Emma 
announced her desire to lose her virginity. Emma and 
Harriett were still glistening with sweat after the sex in 
which they had just been indulging and a very strong 
post-orgasmic smell emanated from them. "But it's got to 
be done properly..." she announced. 

"Do you mean," wondered Charlotte, "that you want it 
filmed?" 

"What an interesting idea," commented Harriett. 

"No," decided Emma. "I just mean it's got to be right. You 
know, it's an important thing and I want it to be something 
I'll remember with joy." 

Charlotte's own first experience with sex hadn't really been 
that satisfactory either, so she appreciated what Emma was 
saying. But then, when you're a teenager, boys do tend to 
be unsubtle and clumsy. "What do you mean properly?. Do 
you mean we invite a boy round to fuck you?" 

"God no!" said Emma with horror. "I could only do it with 
Harriett." Charlotte inwardly sighed. "No. I mean Harriett 
would have to wear one of those artificial penises, - dildos. 
I'm sure it'd be fine that way. I don't want to be 
impregnated by some disgusting man. And anyway the 
mere thought of a man sticking his thing in me is enough to 
make me feel unwell." 

"But why tell me?" wondered Charlotte, who often wished 
that Emma wasn't so open about her sexual relationship. 
Naturism at home was one thing, she reasoned, although 
there was always some sexual teasing in that. But watching 
the two girls having sex together day and night was entirely 
different. Charlotte was very nostalgic for the earlier days 
when only she and Emma wore no clothes. 

"Because, sweetest," said Emma with a very warm smile, 
"whatever Harriett is, you are my best friend. I need you to 
be there. It's very important to me." She pulled Charlotte's 
warm naked body to her own still slightly damp one and 
hugged her more tightly than she had ever done before. She 
showered kisses all over Charlotte's face. "Please say you 
will," she pleaded. 

Charlotte was taken aback by the affection. "But what am I 
to do?" she gasped, hoping perhaps that she might still have 
a sexual role to play. But no, all Emma wanted her to do 
was to hold her hand. 

Emma and Harriett arranged the day on which Emma 
would lose her virginity with some care. Harriett went out 
to choose a dildo with Charlotte from a shop that sold such 
things. Charlotte felt uneasy with Harriett these days, but 
Harriett was very good at reassuring her. She explained 
how much she treasured her relationship with Emma and 
how grateful she was for her affection. "She loves you too," 
she confided to Charlotte, "but she cherishes her friendship 
with you too much." 

Harriett seemed like a different woman to Charlotte when 
she was not at home and undressed. She wore shorts and 
sweater just as she used to: looking much more like a 
sportswoman than a television sex performer. Charlotte 
now knew all about Harriett's body and envied her for its 
athletic trim. The two girls studied the different dildos in 
the shop. There seemed to be a much wider selection of 
dimensions and designs than Charlotte had ever expected.  

"I imagine Emma will want one that looks as natural as 
possible," commented Harriett picking one up and holding 
it to Charlotte's face. "This is about standard size, isn't it?" 

It was actually significantly larger than the penises 
Charlotte generally saw, but she was aware that Harriett 
would always be meeting better endowed men in her trade 
than would the average woman. Harriett eased down her 
shorts and strapped the dildo on over her knickers. 

"What do you think?" she wondered, spinning round with the 
dildo looking almost like the real thing. 

"I'm sure it'll do the job," commented Charlotte, and indeed 
it was the one chosen. 

The day came and the three girls arranged themselves in 
Emma's room (which was not the usual place for making 
love). Emma lay on her back and supported her head and 
shoulders in Charlotte's lap. Charlotte supported her 
shoulders and felt a warm sexual tingle as she felt Emma's 
naked skin on her crotch and thighs. Oh! if only it was me 
and not Harriett, she said to herself, as Harriett, dildo 
strapped around her otherwise naked body, lubricated 
Emma's vagina with her tongue and fingers. 

Harriett spent what seemed to Charlotte from her 
experience of men an unusually long time stimulating 
Emma, occasionally stopping to look up at Emma to gauge 
her expression. Emma looked lovingly down at Harriett and 
sometimes gazed up at Charlotte. Charlotte could see that 
Emma was a little nervous so she gave as reassuring a smile 
as she could. 

Eventually, Harriett assessed that Emma was ready. She 
seemed more than ready to Charlotte who felt the 
shuddering in Emma's shoulders and the whiplash of her 
hair as it was thrown about in ecstasy. Harriett eased the 
dildo into Emma's cunt and the reaction was almost 
immediate. "Ohhh! Godd! Go-o-oddd! Uuooaahh!" cried 
out Emma, shaking herself ecstatically. She grasped 
Charlotte's hand and squeezed it as if her life depended on it 
while gasping out. Then she screamed out in an aural 
ejaculation that frightened Charlotte. 

Emma held tightly onto Harriett who rhythmically and 
rather slowly thrust her crotch back and forth. Charlotte 
eased herself back as she was worried about getting hit by 
Emma's frantically energetic body. She watched as the two 
girls rolled around as close together as they could while 
conjoined by a phallic length of plastic. She noticed that 
Harriett gradually sped up the thrusting, and Emma's response 
became faster and more urgent.  She's playing Emma's body 
like a musical instrument, thought Charlotte. And then she 
thought that Harriett was doing very well considering, as 
she had told her when they were choosing the dildo, that 
this was the first time for her as well in this role. 

Eventually, and not a moment too soon for Charlotte, who 
was frankly rather bored, the two girls finished and Harriett 
eased the dildo out from Emma's vagina. 

"You're not a virgin anymore," commented Charlotte dryly. 

Emma gazed at Charlotte through the damp hair plastered 
to her sweaty forehead. Hers was the sweetest face 
Charlotte had ever seen, and quite suddenly Charlotte's 
heart broke. She burst into silent tears in the aura of 
Emma's post-orgasmic ecstasy and satisfaction. Emma 
smiled and let Charlotte take her body and stroke it with a 
freedom that had never been allowed before. She even 
managed to stroke Emma's pubic hairs, but Emma guarded 
her clitoris from her attention. Harriett also lay back 
exhausted. It was difficult for Charlotte to assess what 
Harriett's pleasure had been, but there was a smile on her 
face. 

"You were wonderful!" suddenly exclaimed Emma falling 
on top of Harriett and kissing her again. She wept from 
passionate love for Harriett. Charlotte felt very 
embarrassed, but it didn't surprise her at all when Emma 
and Harriett recommenced their love-making. Charlotte 
silently detached herself from their company and settled in 
her bed where she tried to sleep as best she could with the 
thumping and screaming emanating all night from Emma's 
bed.                         

Charlotte was quite pleased when Emma told her that she 
and Harriett were entertaining a friend for a meal, even 
though it would mean that true to her natural modesty she 
would wear clothes that evening. (Not a concession that 
would ever occur to Emma). The main source of pleasure 
was that perhaps for one night Charlotte wouldn't be 
confronted by the naked bodies of her flatmates writhing 
about the living-room floor. This pleasure, however, was 
replaced by some apprehension when Harriett explained 
that the young lady, Josephine, was actually the woman 
who had been successfully auditioned for the role of 
making love to Harriett on television, but a little relieved 
when Harriett explained that she'd never made love to a 
woman before either. 

Her apprehension seemed totally unfounded when 
Josephine arrived. She was a tall quite slender woman in a 
quite constricting white dress and had her long hair tied up 
and off her face. Her face was pale and she had blue cheeks 
underneath slightly startled eyes. When she smiled she 
emanated an air of sweet innocence which seemed almost 
inappropriate for someone in her industry, but as she 
explained it was a thespian rather than a pornographic 
career that she really aspired to. 

The four girls sat round the table for a meal cooked jointly 
by Emma and Harriett and listened as Josephine discussed 
her stage performances in repertory and about the 
difficulties of finding work for an actress even in the big 
city. Unusually, everyone but Emma was dressed and 
looking, Charlotte thought, just like most groups of girls 
gathered for a meal together should look. Indeed, Charlotte 
found the thought of Emma wearing clothes so alien that 
her nudity seemed far more natural than it might otherwise 
be. 

After the meal, Emma and Charlotte retreated into the 
kitchen to wash up the dishes and Harriett remained with 
Josephine. Harriett was explaining to Josephine how she 
and Emma had practised making love together and how, to 
improve their technique, they had encouraged Charlotte to 
film them together. The conversation was of such a 
matter-of-fact tone that Charlotte wasn't in the slightest bit 
alarmed. And anyway she had news that she had been dying 
all day to impart to Emma and now was the ideal time. 

"I've got the transfer I've been applying for," she announced 
to Emma. 

"Oh how wonderful!" said Emma giving Charlotte a kiss 
while wiping the inside of a glass with the tea-towel. 
"Where to?" 

"To this naturist branch in the Civil Service," Charlotte 
announced, her sleeves rolled up and soap-suds to her 
wrists. 

"'Naturist' branch?" wondered Emma who'd never heard of 
such a thing before. 

"Yes," smiled Charlotte triumphantly, "Some branches - 
especially unpopular ones like tax, social security and so on 
- attract staff by having a naturist policy. That means that 
staff have the freedom to wear as few clothes as possible 
while at work. So now I can work in as few clothes as I 
wear at home!" 

"That's absolutely marvellous!" exclaimed Emma, grabbing 
Charlotte round the waist and showering her face with 
kisses. "Absolutely wonderful! I'm so happy for you." 

Charlotte was delighted with Emma's response. She had 
been trying for so long to get this transfer as she had felt so 
inferior compared to Emma who could wear nothing at 
work all day and nobody would think it the oddest thing at 
all, while she had to wear smart clothe. Now, she felt, she 
could be a real naturist and, perhaps, get the respect from 
Emma she felt was lacking. 

When Charlotte and Emma came back into the living room, 
laughing and giggling, they found Josephine and Harriett 
sitting in front of the video watching one of the videos 
Charlotte had filmed of Harriett and Emma making love. 
Harriett was explaining in technical terms some of the 
sexual techniques involved in the performance. To 
Charlotte's ears, it sounded more like someone explaining 
golfing techniques rather than how to make love. 
Alarmingly for Charlotte, she found that both Harriett and 
Josephine were wearing just underwear, which in 
Josephine's case meant a white silk slip and knickers and in 
Harriett's case nothing but black knickers. Not quite nudity, 
thought Charlotte. 

All that was to change however, as Harriett explained to 
Emma that Josephine had watched the videos that Charlotte 
had filmed and felt very nervous about her own lack of 
sexual experience with other women. Consequently, they 
agreed that it was better for her to practice with Emma 
and Harriett. They had been waiting for Emma to return 
from the kitchen to ask her if she wouldn't mind 
participating in some instruction. 

At first Emma seemed hesitant, but she looked at 
Josephine's rather shy face and the slender body beneath  
the slip and relented. 

"We'd better take all our clothes off, then" she announced. 

At this prompting, Harriett pulled her knickers down to 
reveal her little triangular bush of hair, and, somewhat less 
enthusiastically, Josephine removed her slip to reveal 
smallish round breasts with pert pink nipples and a very tidy 
patch of pubic hair. 

She looked at Charlotte pleadingly. "Are you joining in?" she 
asked. 

"Charlotte doesn't do this sort of thing!" announced Emma, 
which to Charlotte's ears sounded very presumptuous, but 
she didn't feel like arguing at this juncture. Indeed what she 
did do, as the girls settled down in a cross-legged triangle 
on the well-worn rug in front of the gas fire, was discreetly 
retreat to her room without another word.

As soon as her door was shut, Charlotte pulled off her 
clothes. "That's the last time I'll ever wear clothes!" she 
announced to herself with a kind of determination, knowing 
full well that it was unlikely that she'd ever be able to stay 
true to her own word. She examined her naked reflection in 
the mirror. What was wrong with her? she wondered. She 
was sure she wasn't unattractive. She was of a less slender 
frame than Emma and a less athletic trim than Harriett, but 
she had an attractive body nonetheless. She slowly 
masturbated herself trying to excite herself with thoughts of 
making love, but she somehow couldn't get any excitement. 

"What the hell!" she announced loudly, standing up and 
walking out of her room still naked. Perhaps with Josephine 
there she would have that opportunity to show her sexual 
self that had been so much denied, she thought. She pushed 
open the door to the living-room as quietly as she could. 
What she saw was a writhing mass of three bodies all intent 
on stimulating each others' bodies. Only the odd glimpse of 
a face and Charlotte's familiarity with Emma's and Harriett's 
bodies could distinguish one body from another. She stood 
by the door for several minutes feeling like a trespasser in 
her own house in the midst of the gasps and pants of sexual 
excitement. 

Josephine was clearly not as experienced in lesbian love as 
the other two girls, but that, if anything, only made her the 
more attractive in Charlotte's eyes. Indeed, Charlotte was 
beginning to feel that same melting-away feeling she very 
often felt in Emma's company. As she watched Josephine, 
she caught a glimpse of her espying her and for a moment 
she froze, enduring her gaze. She flushed, feeling suddenly 
embarrassed for being there naked, neither joining in nor 
being apart, but being merely a voyeuse. 

And then she ran off to her bedroom and, although it was 
earlier than her usual bed-time, she went straight to bed. 
She was able to masturbate now, and she did so furiously 
until she went to sleep, but the image uppermost in her 
mind was the vision of Emma and Josephine locked in 
passionate embrace. 



	VI

Charlotte was very anxious on the first day of her new job: 
not just because of the anxiety of working with new people 
and finding new routines, but also just the idea of 
working all day with no clothes. She had, of course, been 
shown round the offices and knew what to expect. It was 
nonsense to say that nudity was compulsory. Not everyone 
working in the branch was a naturist, although they had to 
be sympathetic, and even those who took off their clothes 
didn't necessarily take them all off. Despite this, it 
took little time for the oddness to wear off of being in 
a government office surrounded by computer terminals and 
paper files with naked people. Her new supervisor made no 
mention of clothing policy and only discussed the duties 
Charlotte would be performing. He was, however, totally 
naked except for a pen dangling over his chest. 
Undoubtedly the work was going to be more tedious than 
that which Charlotte had been doing previously, but this 
was the penalty that Charlotte expected to pay for the 
privilege of being a naturist at work. 

One of Charlotte's main anxieties was quite simply what 
clothes to wear on the way to the office. She spent ages the 
night before trying on all combinations of overcoat and 
jacket. She eventually decided to wear only a pair of black 
swimming trucks and a short jacket, but when the morning 
came and she prepared herself she actually found herself 
putting on exactly what she would normally have worn. As 
she was just about to leave, she thought better of it, but 
only to remove her knickers and bra. "I won't need these," 
she said to herself slyly as she felt the dress against her bare 
skin. 

She gingerly knocked on Harriett's door to say goodbye to 
Emma, who had insisted she do this so she could wish 
Charlotte good luck. There was no response, so Charlotte 
eased open the door to see Emma in bed with Harriett and 
also the tanned naked body of a third girl who was in the 
bed with them. This was another in the series of girls 
Harriett had started inviting back to practice making love 
with. The night before, Emma confided to Charlotte that 
she found Molly a little common for her tastes, but 
refreshingly open. She'd not hesitated in getting down to 
some serious love-making with Emma and Harriett: the 
artificial tan of her body and bleach-blonde hair standing 
out in contrast to Charlotte's flatmates' more natural skin 
colour.  

It took Charlotte a few moments to be sure, but Molly was 
active in eating Harriett's vagina with Emma beneath 
exploring Molly's raised vagina with her tongue and fingers. 
Emma looked up from what she was doing, her vulva 
pointing directly towards Charlotte. 

"Are you off now?" she asked softly.  

Charlotte nodded and made to leave through the door. 
"Don't leave so fast!" cried Emma who pulled herself up 
from under Molly, who was too engrossed to disengage 
herself, and ran up to Charlotte. She gave Charlotte a hug 
and a kiss. "I hope your day goes well!" 

Charlotte's journey was by underground train and she felt 
nervous that somehow people could see she wasn't wearing 
underwear. Other people probably didn't care, and indeed 
one girl, probably a secretary, was quite clearly showing 
a bare nipple though her very low-cut dress. This didn't 
prevent Charlotte from feeling self-conscious. Indeed, she 
was pleased when she could get out of the train and walk 
the hundred yards through the rain and puddles to the 
office. She stood at the escalator doors after showing her 
pass to the doorman, wondering when it would be 
appropriate for her to take off her clothes. When the lift 
arrived, no one was naked there, so she stayed fully 
clothed until she reached the 6th floor and entered the 
reception area. 

"Hello, what do you want?" asked a girl at the reception 
desk, who was wearing no clothes at all that Charlotte could 
see besides the petite glasses on her nose. 

"I'm Charlotte. It's my first day here." 

"Charlotte," sniffed the receptionist looking at a list which 
she held up in front of her pert breasts whose nipples stood 
out. "The new girl. Another naturist, I suppose?" 

Charlotte nodded. Although the receptionist was unclothed 
she didn't appear very sympathetic to naturism. 

"You'll be wanting to know where to leave your clothes 
then," the receptionist continued. She stood up and 
Charlotte could see that she was not totally naked but 
wore some very brief shorts and knee-high boots. She 
was taken to a room marked Private where there were 
coats on hooks and some lockers. 

"This is your locker," the receptionist said pointing at 
one which was open. "You'll have to provide your own padlock, 
I'm afraid. And you must wear clothes if you leave the 
premises." 

Charlotte felt hopeless as she stood in front of the locker. 
"Don't you want to take your clothes off, then?" wondered 
the receptionist. Charlotte smiled pleadingly, but received 
no sympathetic gesture. A little embarrassed, Charlotte 
removed her jacket and pulled off the dress to reveal the 
naked body underneath. The receptionist sniffed again, but 
made no comment. 

"Right, I'll take you to Bernard who'll show you your 
desk," said the receptionist referring to the supervisor 
Charlotte had met before. 

The rest of the day was spent meeting other members of 
staff and learning about her duties. Most of the staff were 
men and almost all of these were nudists. The main 
embarrassment Charlotte felt as she met all these new men 
was of avoiding eye-contact with their penises. She 
studiously looked up at their faces and reminded herself 
that, as a lesbian, men should be the same to her clothed or 
unclothed. 

There were three other women besides Charlotte working in  
the office. There was Peggy, the receptionist, who was 
adamant that she wasn't a naturist but was nonetheless 
usually topless and, Charlotte was told, would frequently 
wear nothing at all in warm weather. There was Mildred, a 
late middle-aged woman who had the cracked skin of years 
of sunbathing and droopy breasts that flopped over her 
tight, lined, brown belly. There was one woman about 
Charlotte's age, Clarissa, who was plump with a round 
pair of breasts crowned with nipples the size of 
Charlotte's fist. 

Charlotte's desk faced towards a male colleague, Desmond, 
who although a committed naturist almost always wore an 
open shirt so he could have access to a pen at all times. 
He was also rather shy and had great difficulty at looking at 
Charlotte's face, let alone anywhere else on her body. She 
looked out on to the street and was pleased to see that 
there were no vantage points where anyone could spy on 
the office. Charlotte had no intention of being the subject of 
anyone's voyeurism. 

Bernard spelt out the rules pertaining to dress which was 
to wear clothes outside of the office and to respect the 
views of any member of the public who didn't actively 
express a willingness to be interviewed by a naked 
Civil Servant. A white overcoat of standard issue was 
provided in all interview rooms so staff could be 
dressed in these circumstances, but as Bernard assured her, 
very few people would come to this branch without expecting 
to meet some naturist staff.

When 5 o'clock came, Charlotte joined the others by their 
lockers as they got dressed to go home. Bernard stayed at 
his desk, as did Desmond who Charlotte later discovered 
was very shy of being seen putting his clothes back on. 
Clarissa's locker was right next to Charlotte's and she 
smiled at Charlotte as she put on just a leather jacket over 
her otherwise naked body and pulled on some leather 
knee-high boots. 

"You going home by yourself, love?" she asked. 

"Yes," admitted Charlotte doing up her own jacket which 
more convincingly hid her smaller beasts than did Clarissa's 
from which her breasts were clearly trying to escape. 

"My boyfriend's picking me up," Clarissa said, "but perhaps 
another night we can go out for a drink after work." 

"That would be very nice," Charlotte admitted, who still felt 
very much a stranger amongst her colleagues. She was sure 
Clarissa wasn't a lesbian herself, but that was all for the 
best. It was Emma who she loved. 

Her day had been mostly desk-bound, though she knew that her 
job would soon involve meeting the public, of which all she'd 
seen all day were the people in the streets when she'd gone out 
for her lunch-break. She felt sure then, as she felt now 
leaving the office, that everyone could see her nakedness under 
her clothes. 

There she goes, she imagined them thinking, when the lift 
stopped on her floor and she joined the other office staff 
and executives already in the lift. You can see she's got no 
clothes on underneath. She's a filthy nudist. She spends all 
day indulging in the perverse pleasure of nudity. And what's 
more she's a lesbian. She loves other women. She's a 
disgusting, perverted, naked dyke. 

And, Charlotte reminded herself with a wince, a lesbian 
who can't even have sex with the woman she loves above 
all else. A woman for whom she'd sacrifice everything. But 
a woman who nonetheless denies that she's at all gay while 
forever making love to Harriett. And not just Harriett, but 
any friend Harriett brings home with her. Last night it 
was Molly. A girl who probably couldn't even spell her own 
name. Will it be Molly tonight? Or some other girl? 

Her bitter thoughts followed her and distracted her from 
the self-consciousness of her hidden nakedness as she 
travelled home on the underground train, with bodies of 
men and women squeezed right up against her, supporting 
herself only by the strap. As she hurried up the stairs to the 
surface, she absentmindedly let her breasts fall out of her 
coat, but she hurriedly replaced them, sure that everyone 
had now decided that she was the worst kind of slut. 

It wasn't Molly Emma was making love to when Charlotte came 
in. In fact, Emma and Harriett weren't making love at all, 
but seemed to just be talking to a girl that was with them. 
This girl was quite short - less than five feet high - and 
built on a corresponding slender model, with breasts barely 
showing as more than discoloured bumps on her breast. Her 
skin was very pale, and at first Charlotte was convinced 
that this girl was just a school-girl who Harriett had 
persuaded to strip off. In fact when the girl turned 
round and smiled at Charlotte with a sparkle of teeth and 
deep dark eyes, it was clear she was actually an oriental 
woman, probably in her mid-twenties. 

Emma jumped up and ran up to Charlotte. She grasped 
Charlotte round the shoulders before she had the chance to 
take her coat off. 

"How was your first day at work?" she asked. "It wasn't 
too frightful was it?" 

"No, no. It was alright. Perfectly alright." 

"They were kind to you, were they?" Emma wondered, a 
look of real concern as she noticed the bitterness that had 
set into Charlotte's face. 

"Oh yes, they were very nice. I'm just not, you know, just 
not used to being nude all day." 

"How peculiar," laughed Emma, who was rarely anything 
but. She showered Charlotte's face with dry little kisses. 
"Now can you be a darling and help us." 

"Of course," volunteered Charlotte with no idea what 
Emma, Harriett and the oriental girl wanted. 

"Meet Susan," said Emma, showing her guest. "She has a 
problem about making love." 

"Yes," explained Susan, who had a slightly foreign 
enunciation to her immaculate English. "All my life I only 
ever make love when I am being watched. That is why I 
work in sex television, because it is the only way I can have 
a happy love life. And I want to make love to both Emma 
and Harriett..." 

"...And both of us want to make love to her," agreed Emma 
squeezing Charlotte. "Don't we, Harriett?" 

Harriett was holding Susan's shoulders. She gently kissed 
Susan full on the mouth to signal assent. 

"So please, Charlotte," pleaded Emma, "Can you watch 
Susan with us? But don't touch." 

And so Charlotte's first evening after a day at her new job 
was spent watching the three girls make love together. 
Emma seemed particularly enthusiastic. More enthusiastic 
in her passionate love with Susan than Emma had ever seen 
her with Harriett. Her cries of passion were louder and 
fuller than she'd ever heard before. Is it Susan who makes 
her so passionate? wondered Charlotte. But she couldn't be 
sure as Harriett seemed to be giving her great pleasure too 
as she nibbled Emma's clitoris with her teeth, while Susan, 
in turn, squeezed her vagina tightly against her own. Or was 
it because I'm watching? Perhaps, Charlotte thought, my 
presence gives Emma just a bit more pleasure. Perhaps she 
gets sadistic pleasure out of my discomfort. Or maybe, and 
Charlotte was sure this was the real truth, she thinks I get 
pleasure from seeing her get pleasure. 

However, it was not Emma, but Susan who seemed most 
aware of Charlotte's presence. Frequently and from 
whatever absurd angle it was, with pubic hair in her mouth 
or a tongue in her ear or her fingers firmly up Emma's cunt 
or even when Harriett forced one of her dildos as far up 
Susan's anus as it could go, Susan's broad smile and 
sparkling gaze seemed directed not at her lovers but rather 
at Charlotte. In fact, Charlotte had never been looked at in 
such an unambiguously sexual way before. At one stage, 
Susan disengaged herself from her two lovers, who 
continued making love with each other regardless and 
suddenly squeezed Charlotte to her tiny breasts and kissed 
her passionately on the face, eyes and mouth. And then, just 
when Charlotte became fully appreciative of this act of 
passion, she pushed herself back off to rejoin the 
love-making with what seemed re-invigorated passion and 
lust. 

The three girls made love for what seemed forever to 
Charlotte, who envied them all. Afterwards though, Susan's 
conversation was held not with Emma and Harriett, whom 
she'd enjoyed so passionately, but with Charlotte. She felt 
that Susan was blatantly flirting with her, particular as she 
so often held Charlotte's hands in her own delicate hands and 
traced her fingers gently over their back. In fact, she barely 
seemed interested in Emma and Harriett now, who 
retreated after a while to watch some of the videos that 
Emma was still investigating for her television station. 

Charlotte soon became aware that Susan's flirting, although 
meant sincerely, was not intended as an invitation to sex, 
(which she discussed coolly and dispassionately), but as an 
expression of affection. As Susan left, putting on a very 
tight silver jump-suit, she gave Charlotte a long embrace, 
hugging her and kissing her on the cheeks. 

"I must see you again," Susan insisted. "You must come and 
visit and watch me making love to my boyfriend. He is so 
passionate. And," she added, "we can only make love when we 
have visitors watching. Please say yes, so I can make love 
to him. He'll love it when such a beautiful girl as you is 
watching." 

Charlotte nodded, and said she would. But in truth, she felt 
very weary of all this second-hand love. When would 
someone make love to her? And would that person ever be 
Emma? 


	VII

"Are you doing anything this evening?" Clarissa asked 
Charlotte as the two colleagues prepared to return home 
after a full day at work. Clarissa was pulling on a dress 
which like all her clothes looked awkward over her full 
round breasts and buttocks. Charlotte, who had more of 
a sense of style still found it strange becoming 
accustomed to wearing fewer clothes than she used to. She 
buttoned up the black silk blouse which was all she was 
currently wearing. As it was a warm day, she also had a 
pair of loose shorts, which she found more comfortable 
when not wearing knickers. 

"No, I've got nothing planned," admitted Charlotte, who in 
fact rather dreaded going home. Who would Emma and 
Harriett be making love with tonight? she wondered. 

"In that case, I'll take you to the Haworth," announced 
Clarissa. "It's a naturist wine bar near here. We can have a 
drink and a chat." 

"Ooh, that'd be a nice idea," Charlotte admitted. It certainly 
meant she'd be absolved of acting as a voyeur this evening. 
"Does it cost anything to go in?" 

"Of course not," Clarissa assured her. "But you must take 
your clothes off." 

After working all day with no clothes, this seemed quite 
natural to Charlotte. In fact, the sight of a man or woman 
wearing clothes now seemed almost odd to her. Clarissa led 
Charlotte down a few quiet back streets in the town centre 
to a fairly anonymous street, near a delicatessen and a shop 
selling apparently nothing but lamp-shades, where there was 
the sign The Haworth just above a staircase which led 
down below street level. Nothing of the wine bar was 
visible from the street, and in fact it didn't really seem very 
inviting. It certainly wasn't the sort of place where 
Charlotte would normally choose to go. 

Charlotte followed Clarissa down the steps to a more 
inviting place than she expected. It was well-lit with 
subtly attractive decor and the people inside were indeed 
wearing no clothes. The large black gentleman at the door 
was also naked (or at least what was visible over the 
counter). "We'll have to leave our clothes here," Clarissa 
announced. The two girls undressed and handed their 
clothes to the gentleman. Charlotte was about to retrieve 
her handbag, but Clarissa signalled that it wasn't necessary: 
"You buy everything on tab here," she explained. 

There weren't many people in the bar. There was a group of 
four men in the corner drinking beers and looking well at 
ease in their nudity. They glanced at Charlotte and 
Clarissa as they entered, but in a fairly neutral fashion. A 
man and woman were chatting in the corner and held their 
hands together over the table. They had eyes only for each 
other. Clarissa went to the bar to be greeted by a bar-girl 
wearing only a welcoming smile. 

"The same as always, Clarissa?" the bar-girl asked.  

"Yes, of course, Emily," Clarissa answered. "And what are 
you having, Charlotte?" 

"Oh, an orange juice I think," she answered. 

"Nothing stronger?" wondered Clarissa quizzically, but this 
was what Emily poured into a glass which shone an orange 
triangle onto her apple-shaped breasts. She then made a 
note on a piece of paper of the purchases. 

The girls chose a table which seemed unnecessarily hidden 
for such a relatively quiet place. While they chatted about 
work and colleagues, Charlotte gazed about the room 
examining the other customers as they entered. Clarissa did 
much the same, but in a decidedly predatory manner.

Charlotte was soon tempted to have a glass of wine, which 
seemed to go straight through her, so she soon had to go to 
the toilet. It was a very clean toilet, but nonetheless bizarre 
in that there were no doors in the cubicles. No need for 
modesty here, reflected Charlotte, as she brushed through 
her long hair with her hands. 

When Charlotte got back, she found that they were no 
longer unaccompanied, as Clarissa was talking animatedly with 
a young man who was seated on a stool by their table. "Oh 
hello, Charlotte," smiled Clarissa, as she sat down. 
"Meet ... um ..." 

"Edwin," announced the young man, smiling broadly at 
Charlotte. "I work in Electricity. Are you in the Civil 
Service as well?" Charlotte nodded. "In the same section?" 
She nodded again.  "It must be wonderful not having to 
wear clothes all day. Electricity would never countenance 
it. But I guess, the Civil Service have got to provide some 
benefits to counter the lousy pay." 

Edwin sat with the two girls for the rest of the evening 
which seemed to go on interminably. Edwin ordered a 
bottle of wine, which the three shared between them, with 
Clarissa drinking the most. Gradually Clarissa became more 
intimate with Edwin, and it didn't surprise Charlotte too 
much to see her stroking Edwin's penis. "Don't do that!" he 
laughed, but he neither removed her hand nor resisted the 
swelling of his penis from the attention. The conversation 
remained more mundane and by concentrating on that, 
Charlotte just about succeeded in ignoring Clarissa's 
blatant teasing. 

It was gone eleven when Clarissa announced it was time to 
go home. "Do the both of you want to come back for some 
coffee?" she asked. Charlotte was feeling slightly tipsy and 
assented as she thought a coffee might do her some good. 
Edwin didn't hesitate at all.  

Clarissa's flat was only five minutes walk from the bar. The 
three of them got dressed, and settled their bill with the 
black gentleman at reception. Edwin put on a business suit, 
which seemed very peculiar after having so long worn 
nothing over his bronzed naked body. Clarissa's flat was up 
a couple of flights of stairs, and had a no-clothes policy like 
the bar, as Clarissa announced pushing open her front door, 
 The three of them removed their clothes again and left 
them in the hall-way, before entering the flat proper. 

Clarissa didn't live alone in the flat. Her boyfriend was 
sitting in front of the television and briefly greeted them as 
they entered. Charlotte sat in the living room while Edwin 
and Clarissa prepared the coffee. It seemed to take ages to 
arrive, and Clarissa's boyfriend seemed far more interested 
in the television than on chat. 

It was the city's only naturist station, Nude Horizon, and 
like all naturist stations there were strictly no clothes, but 
also none of the explicit sex associated with Emma's 
station, Harlot TV. Like Harlot, however, it religiously 
pursued its preferred subject matter and was often just as 
dull about it. There was probably less sex on Nude 
Horizon than on most other television stations and most 
intimacy was of a fairly chaste kind. There were soap 
operas and documentaries, quiz shows and films just like on 
any other station: all totally unexceptional but for the 
nudity. Although Charlotte wasn't a great fan of sex 
television she preferred it to this. 

Nude Horizon was showing a general interest program 
which was actually discussing Harlot TV. What a strange 
coincidence, thought Charlotte, glancing at Clarissa's 
boyfriend and wondering if she should say anything about 
her loose connection with the station. She decided against 
it. He might not approve. The program was discussing the 
fourth X awarded to Harlot TV and the more sexually 
explicit programs it was now considered responsible 
enough to show. 

"Of particular interest to our viewers," the television 
presenter announced, "is that the guiding hand for much of 
the new policy is a committed naturist who, amongst other 
things believes there should be a more positive attitude 
towards nudists on sex television." 

The program then featured Emma (yes, Emma, my love, my 
lovely) who was wearing no clothes as always and looking 
not at all embarrassed as the rather flabby middle-aged 
woman presenter asked her questions. 

"For too long on sex television," Emma said in her most 
polemic style, "nakedness has been thought of as nothing 
but a prelude to full sexual intercourse. But that is, of 
course, absolute nonsense." 

Emma explained in the few minutes allotted to her, that she 
would influence programming to ensure that Harlot TV 
would have its fourth X renewed. There would be a new 
soap opera which would not present its cast as just 
simpering sex toys. There would be discussion and chat 
programs where the presenter would not be obliged to have 
sex with the guests. And yes, there would be a more 
positive attitude towards naturism. And there would be an 
attempt to move away from nudity as titillation, towards 
nudity as a rational person's life-style choice. 

After the interview with Emma, the presenter addressed 
some sceptical comments to the camera, but Charlotte 
heard none of this as her mind focused entirely on Emma. 
On her beauty. And her formidable modest but assured 
presence. And on how much she loved her.

"This coffee's taking rather a long time to arrive!" 
commented Charlotte.  

Without taking his eyes off the feature on naturist cheese 
factories, Clarissa's boyfriend commented expressionlessly: 
"I expect that means I'll have to sleep in the spare 
bedroom." The connection seemed fairly odd to her, so 
Charlotte, whose mind was still reviewing Emma's 
television interview, chose to ignore it. 

However, he was right, as Charlotte discovered when 
Clarissa came in with two cups of coffee, which Charlotte 
was displeased to find had two sugars and not none as she'd 
asked. 

"Sorry, we took so long," Clarissa said smiling in a very 
peculiar way, her skin shining with an equally peculiar 
glisten. "Edwin and I just got carried away in the kitchen." 
She looked at her boyfriend. "He's so good, Cyril, you 
wouldn't believe! That prick of his just feels so right!" She 
paused while Cyril continued watching the television as it 
reviewed naturism and recent amendments to Motoring 
regulations. "You don't mind sleeping in the spare bedroom 
tonight, do you, Cyril?" 

His eyes continued to focus on the film of a motorcyclist 
wearing what was considered the legal minimum quantity of 
clothes, covering head, chest and limbs, but left the crotch 
displayed. "No, of course not Clarrie. I even prepared it 
earlier." 

"Oh you're such a darling, Cyril!" remarked Clarissa, as she 
kissed him full on the mouth. "Edwin's so good!" She 
turned to Charlotte and took the hand that wasn't politely 
holding the cup of coffee she was soon going to let go cold. 
"And he wants you to join us, Charlotte. Isn't that 
wonderful?" 

Charlotte hadn't expected this and so wasn't sure how to 
respond. She gave a little frown, but her thoughts were 
more on Emma, and the idea of sex with Edwin and 
Clarissa just didn't appeal. When would it appeal to her? 
Charlotte wondered. Perhaps if she'd had more to drink. "I 
feel a bit tired, I'm afraid." 

"Oh come on, Charlotte," said Clarissa imploringly. "It's not 
every day you get a chance at this kind of fun." 

That was true, reflected Charlotte, but it was every day she 
got to witness it. But, as she also thought, Clarissa wasn't 
gay and Charlotte was, after all, a lesbian. She shook her 
head shyly. 

"OK," said Clarissa, clearly disappointed. "Well, I hope you 
don't mind if I go off now and enjoy myself with Edwin." 

Then she raised herself up, and left Edwin and Charlotte to 
watch a commercial break featuring products designed for 
the naturist market, such as sun tan lotion, creams for sore 
crotches, and privacy devices.  

Charlotte continued watching television with Cyril, who 
made no comment, for what she judged as a polite length of 
time. After the commercial break, there was a naturist 
situation comedy set on a naturist newspaper. The humour 
was, if anything, even less funny than that in most situation 
comedies and the bizarre aspect of newspaper people 
wandering about in the nude soon palled on her. 

"I must get going now," she announced. 

"Oh yes," said Cyril, looking up at her as she picked up her 
virtually untouched cup of coffee. "Well, it's been very nice 
having you visit. Please come again." He smiled in a 
reassuring way that somehow compensated for much of his 
previous silence and then his eyes returned to a situation 
where one of the characters had spilt drink down her 
breasts and made the comment that at least she didn't have 
to worry about a dry-cleaning bill. 

Charlotte found the kitchen, and poured the coffee down 
the sink. Then as she wandered back past the living room to 
the front door she saw that Clarissa's bedroom was wide 
open and could see Edwin fucking away inside her in a 
room otherwise remarkable only for its pink and cream 
decor. Edwin's back was to her, but Clarissa was mounted 
in such a position he could easily see Charlotte going by. 

"Are you coming to join us after all?" asked Clarissa in a 
slightly breathless way as Edwin thrust in and out of her, 
her breasts flopping backwards and forwards to the same 
rhythm. Charlotte sadly shook her head. "No?" said 
Clarissa, regretfully. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then." 

Charlotte left early enough to be able to catch an 
underground train home, and was soon through the front 
door and into the flat. Off came her clothes again. She now 
viewed them more or less as encumbrances to be worn 
between rather than at places. The flat was very quiet and, 
as Charlotte discreetly verified, Harriett and Emma were 
sleeping together in Harriett's bed with no guests. She went 
to the bathroom and while sitting on the toilet, feeling the 
warm rush of urine splash up from the porcelain onto her 
thighs, she reflected that perhaps tonight had been one 
night when she'd have felt more comfortable staying at 
home. 

However, this view was shattered when, with the smell of 
toothpaste still lingering in her mouth, Charlotte pushed 
open the door of her bedroom and found it was not empty. 
She turned on the light and woke up the small white 
figure of Susan, lying naked in a huddled figure under the 
sheets. 

"Oh Charlotte!" Susan cried in a tone of affection. "At last 
you're back!" 

Charlotte certainly hadn't expected Susan to be there. She'd 
become an occasional visitor to the flat and Charlotte had 
become rather accustomed to watching Susan make love to 
Emma and Harriett, and on one occasion to Molly, who 
had been visiting at the same time. She'd taken up the habit 
of arriving unannounced and assuming that there'd always 
be sex available, which rather annoyed Harriett who liked 
her life better organised.  

"What are you doing in my bed?" wondered Charlotte. 

"Because I've been waiting for you," smiled Susan 
seductively. She put her arms out and held Charlotte's 
hands in hers'. "And," she added with an unusually coy grin, 
"because I love you." 

This rather shocked Charlotte, who had never made love to 
Susan, though she was very aware that although she got 
virtually no sexual attention when Susan visited she got 
almost all her non-sexual attention. 

"Do you want to make love to me?" asked Charlotte wearily, 
not sure if this was the opportunity for the love affair 
she needed after being so decidedly rejected by Emma, or 
if this was just a nuisance she could do well without. 

"Heavens, no!" exclaimed Susan. "No, I love you too much 
for that. I just want to be with you. I want to sleep in the 
same bed as you. I want to feel your tender body near mine. 
Feel your breath on mine. Have you watching me make 
love to my boyfriend, to Emma, to Harriett, whoever." 

"But not actually make love with me?" wondered Charlotte. 

Susan smiled. "I feel so fulfilled when I feel you watching 
me. When I made love to Emma this evening with only 
Harriett watching, I felt so empty. I know Emma enjoyed it. 
She really loves my body." Charlotte winced, but she knew 
it was true. Perhaps Harriett's annoyance with Susan was 
also because she seemed to give Emma more pleasure than 
anyone else. "Emma was so passionate. And aggressive. 
Look at the bruises." She emerged from the sheets and 
pointed at blue and slightly red patches of skin around her 
lower body. "And the bite marks," she added, indicating her 
little breasts and just above her crotch. "And look at the 
blood!" she added, pulling herself out of the bed, turning 
round to face her bottom to Charlotte and opening her 
buttocks to show her anus. And indeed, Charlotte could 
just about make out patches of dried blood attached to the 
hairs around her anus. "Emma just goes wild. She just 
doesn't care what she does to my body," Susan smiled. "But 
it's you I love." 

"And it's Emma I love!" exclaimed Charlotte who suddenly 
burst into tears and threw herself on the bed. 

Whatever it was that Susan expected to do that evening it 
probably wasn't what she in fact did do: which was to 
comfort Charlotte as she cried through the night, talking 
about her love for Emma, her jealousy of Harriett, the way 
she felt neglected when so many women could make love 
to Emma but not her, the way she felt like just an 
appendage to the goings on in the flat. "It just fills me with 
pain to think of you and Emma making love together. With 
Emma loving you and not me. It was so much better before 
Emma discovered sex!" 

"I thought you enjoyed watching people make love," 
commented Susan sadly - herself disappointed. "That's why 
I was convinced we'd make the perfect couple. I thought I 
would fuck and you would watch and maybe masturbate. 
And then we would be just friends and love each other - as 
I love you. And I would be fulfilled. And I thought you 
would be fulfilled too." 

"No," sniffed Charlotte, holding Susan's slim shoulders to 
her chest. "No, that's not what I want. Not at all." 



	VIII

When Charlotte returned from work and saw two girls 
writhing about entwined together on the carpet in front of a 
sex video on the television, she at first assumed that it was 
Emma and Harriett. After all, when only two women were 
making love in the flat it was usually those two. When 
that happened, she usually hid herself in the kitchen to 
prepare dinner, only venturing out when she judged the 
two had exhausted themselves. 

However, as Charlotte reflected, it couldn't be Harriett 
having sex with Emma, as it was only last night that she 
and Emma and a few of Harriett's other friends had seen 
her off at the airport. Harriett had started working on a 
new television series which involved her being filmed 
making love in exotic parts of the world. Her first 
destination was Cambodia, at one of its premier luxury 
holiday resorts. From all accounts this was a fairly 
demanding job involving group sex and the opportunity 
to practice her newly acquired lesbian skills. 

No, as Charlotte soon became aware, the woman who was 
giving Emma such obvious pleasure was Penelope, a friend 
of Harriett's who'd visited several times before. Penelope 
was a very skinny girl whose breasts were almost all nipple 
and whose groin was slightly hollowed out. Charlotte could 
almost see the bone of her buttocks through the flesh as it 
pumped in tune to Emma's cunnilingus.

Penelope's flushed face emerged from between Emma's 
legs, her lips raw and red from exertion. She saw Charlotte 
and smiled welcomingly before returning to Emma's crotch. 


Emma had good reason to celebrate. She had finished her 
research for Harlot TV and made her recommendations of 
what programs to buy and which to emulate just in time for 
the station to receive its fourth X. This had been very 
fortuitous timing, because she had become the default 
spokesperson for the now more responsible station, which 
was in the throes of renaming itself in a way that  
better reflected its new status. 

Emma had been interviewed on the countless manifestations 
of the media. Her appearance as a serious woman with an 
uncompromising policy of naturism had acted as a very 
strong advertisement for the station. She had been 
interviewed on mainline television, national newspapers, 
several magazines and innumerable organs of more 
specialist interest in sex entertainment. She had now 
been seen by more people than had ever watched the 
station, though in some cases she'd only been filmed or 
photographed from the waist up. In one or two instances, 
including a television station which claimed the moral high 
ground, she could only be seen from the shoulders up. In all 
her interviews, she freely expressed her views about the 
role of sex television and of naturism as a philosophy of 
life. Indeed, she got the distinct impression from her 
employers that the more polemical her views the more they 
were appreciated. 

Charlotte smiled weakly at Penelope and then shyly made 
her way into the kitchen to busy herself over the cooker 
boiling vegetables and unfreezing a pre-prepared meal. She 
sat on the kitchen stool waiting for the food to be ready, 
thinking about her own role in the changes that had taken 
place. While she was there, Penelope came in, still naked 
and reeking of the shared sweat of her own body and 
Emma's. She sat down on another stool and chatted to 
Charlotte about her job which was not in the sex media, 
although she aspired to it, but as a clerk for a large 
supermarket chain. 

"Why is it you never make love with Emma and Harriett?" 
she asked. "I've asked Emma and I know it's not because 
you don't find women attractive." 

This question unbalanced Charlotte. Why indeed had she 
never been involved? It just hadn't happened. That was all. 
She didn't know why really, and she certainly envied 
everyone else who'd made love to Emma. 

Charlotte shook her head sadly.  

Penelope stood up from her stool and put her arms around 
Charlotte's naked body. Charlotte felt the heat from her 
skin before it touched her, and almost burnt her. "Oh! 
You poor dear!" simpered Penelope, kissing Charlotte 
tenderly on the face. Then, (Charlotte wasn't too sure how), 
she and Penelope fell to kissing full on the mouth, their 
tongues entwined. Charlotte's tongue trailed round 
Penelope's teeth and her throat felt the thick mass of 
Penelope's tongue deep inside. Then, Penelope's hands 
gripped into her buttocks and Charlotte's arms cautiously  
encompassed her slender bony waist. 

This didn't last for long. Penelope announced she had to 
return to Emma and, in any case, Charlotte's food was ready. 
Penelope left Charlotte alone with her vegetables and 
thoughts. She felt excited by the attention she'd just 
received, but she also felt peculiarly guilty of a kind of 
disloyalty to Emma. 

For the rest of the evening, Charlotte sat in her bedroom 
reading a novel she'd recently bought, frightened as always 
of going into the living room where she might perhaps be 
invited to film the two girls making love or, as with Susan, 
just to observe in a rage of envy. The hours passed, with 
Charlotte feeling somewhat disorientated from the affection 
Penelope had expressed, until it seemed late enough for her 
to go to bed. She wandered to the bathroom to clean her 
teeth, knowing she wouldn't meet either of the girls there, 
as she could hear the familiar rocking of Emma's bed. 

Charlotte returned to bed and pulled the sheet over her 
naked body. As so often, she gently stroked her body as she 
settled down, asking it if it was interested in masturbation. 
Although clearly excited, her body wasn't going to be 
satisfied by anything like that, so Charlotte rolled over on 
her side and faced the wall. 

Several minutes later, Charlotte heard her bedroom door 
open, and then a body tiptoe silently across the room 
towards her bed. Perhaps she'd been secretly expecting it, 
but she wasn't too surprised when she was joined by 
Penelope's skinny and smelly body, still moist from sex. 
And it wasn't at all long until she found herself rolling 
around and writhing with her incredibly hot and bony body. 
As she pulled at Penelope's long thin nipple in her teeth, 
Charlotte smelt Emma's odours emanating amongst Penelope's. 
Well, she thought, if you can't experience Emma's body 
first-hand, it was probably better to experience it 
second-hand. 

While Penelope's expert fingers lubricated Charlotte's cunt, 
she was considering that, yes!, this was the first time with a 
woman. She'd always considered herself a lesbian, but one 
who'd always loved women from a distance. And now, as 
Penelope's tongue descended down her body to join her 
exploring fingers at the vagina, she was now to know what 
it was really like. In some ways, it was like making love with 
a man, but the smells were different, the body was different 
and the expectations were different. 

"So that's where you are!" Charlotte suddenly heard. She 
started and withdrew her face from the buttock she'd been 
licking while supporting herself on Penelope's legs. "This is 
being really very deceitful!" 

"Sorry, dearest?" wondered Penelope, who jerked her head 
out of Charlotte's pubic hair to look directly at Emma who 
was standing by the open door and, although only her 
silhouette could be seen, was almost certainly frowning. 

"I thought I was always honest and open with you," Emma 
continued crossly, "but then you steal my lovers from 
my bed. Why couldn't you have just asked and joined 
us in the normal way, instead of sneaking off behind my 
back." 

"Don't worry, Emma my love," Penelope apologised, "I'll 
come straight back to bed with you." 

She disentangled herself from Charlotte's red hot body, 
which was burning as much with humiliation as with lust. 
She let herself out of Charlotte's room, pausing only to 
peck Emma on the cheek as she went out. 

"So, this is how my best friend treats me!" exclaimed Emma 
bitterly. "How could you do it? How could you be so ... so 
... underhand and deceitful?" 

She turned round abruptly and left Charlotte's room leaving 
only the memory of her departing bum for Charlotte to 
masturbate furiously to. 



	IX

Every so often Charlotte was required to be on duty to 
meet the public: usually just to answer their rather technical 
questions on tax status. There was a policy that 
interviewees should state whether they would be 
embarrassed by being interviewed by someone unclothed, 
but it was generally only a small minority of rather elderly 
clients who preferred not to. Ironically, it was those who 
were least enthusiastic about being interviewed by a naked 
woman that Charlotte felt least reserved about being naked 
with. She had adopted the policy of wearing the white coat 
provided when interviewing men and it was only for women 
and fairly asexual men that she would remove it.

Charlotte adopted her usual policy for interviewing Miss J. 
Taylor by preparing her notes but not bothering with the 
white coat. Miss Taylor was an actress concerned about a 
rebate that she felt was due her after a period of three 
months in a high street clothes shop at a lower rate of pay 
than for the other nine months of the tax year. It was only 
when Charlotte entered the interview booth that she 
realised that Miss Taylor was the Josephine she'd met only
the once at her flat. She was wearing a prim white blouse 
with a silk black scarf and her hair was kept it in place by 
an ornate hair-clip. 

It was an embarrassed start to the interview, but Charlotte 
soon relaxed and, after giving Josephine the required forms 
and explaining the procedures to her, they were able to chat 
about more general matters. Josephine was auditioning for 
several television plays and her agent was very optimistic 
about her chances in at least one of these. Most of her 
recent work had been in commercials: and she'd been in 
enough of those to no longer need to work in Maurice's 
(Gentleman Outfitters) for a while. The commercials had 
been of a generally saucy nature, which seemed a little odd 
when the products were for such things as detergent, 
formica furniture and road safety. 

The interview seemed so brief, but in fact when Josephine 
had left they'd been talking for nearly an hour and a half. 
Charlotte arranged to meet Josephine for a meal later that 
week, which Josephine would cook. "I just love cooking!" 
she said. At first Charlotte suggested certain clubs and wine 
bars that she'd been to with Clarissa. 

"Oh, I don't like the sound of the Haworth!" Josephine exclaimed. 
"It's a naturist singles bar, isn't it?" 

Charlotte couldn't really argue with the description, but she 
felt it strange that someone like Charlotte who had become 
accustomed to making love for the camera would be so prudish 
about taking her clothes off in a place like that. Josephine 
admitted that she'd enjoyed her visit to Charlotte's flat, but 
she hadn't felt like going again. 

"It was almost like going to an audition," she remarked. "Even 
though Emma and Harriett are such marvellous company." 

Charlotte watched Josephine with a feeling of elevation, 
curiously happy with herself and the world. That Josephine 
seemed only interested in her as a friend was perhaps as 
elating as anything else. Emma was not the Emma that 
Charlotte used to love so deeply: however much she still 
craved for her. 

When Charlotte went home on the underground she felt she 
was on a cloud. She had a brief drink with Clarissa at a 
small wine bar near the office (not a naturist one) and found 
it difficult to even pretend to be interested in Clarissa's 
conversation which, as always, concentrated on her sexual 
encounters and how her boyfriend, despite being so 
wonderful, didn't really understand her. When she ascended 
to the open air and walked through the suburban streets to 
her flat she was propelled by thoughts that took her past 
her flat and forced her to retrace her steps. 

When she entered the flat, took off her clothes and 
announced her arrival, she was surprised to see Emma run 
towards her rather solicitously. Emma grasped her round 
the shoulders and hugged her against her chest. 

"Can you forgive me?" she asked. 

"Sorry?" 

"After how snotty I was last night when I saw you with 
Penelope. I don't know what got into me! I must have been 
deranged. It must be with Harriett away. I don't know! I 
shouldn't have been like that. Of course you should feel free 
to make love with Penelope and whoever else you like. I 
shouldn't be so selfish and get in the way of what you want. 
How can you ever forgive me?" 

"That's alright! I'd almost forgotten ..." 

Emma hurried Charlotte along with her into the living 
room and Charlotte was very conscious of a very firm grip 
around her waist. 

"I've chatted with Penelope about it. She says I was just 
jealous. I think it's worse than that. I just don't think 
of your needs at all. While Harriett and I have been 
making love, I've just not thought of you (and a 
professed lesbian too!) having the same needs. But 
Penelope's here." 

The two girls entered Emma's bedroom and there, indeed, 
lying on her bed was Penelope who was, however, still 
dressed in the rather plain clothes she wore to her 
supermarket office. Penelope looked up shyly and, it 
seemed to Charlotte, with some embarrassment as well. 
What had Emma and Penelope been talking about? 

"So," announced Emma, emphasising her statement with a 
pause, "if the two of you would like to make love I'll stay 
out of your way." 

And with that Emma disappeared and left Charlotte with 
Penelope. 

What followed was certainly not passion. More like duty 
performed for Emma's benefit. After a short chat, where 
both Charlotte and Penelope skirted discreetly around any 
subject which could be construed about sex, Penelope shyly 
removed her clothes to reveal her pale bony frame. As the 
two girls entwined and went through the motions of what 
had been more successful the day before, Charlotte felt that 
perhaps their earlier conversation on the new robotic tills 
and the bar-codes on the new notes had, after all, been 
more satisfying. And this was only her second time of 
making love to a woman. What she'd always wanted! What, 
as a lesbian, should be the pinnacle of sexual activity! 

Penelope must have felt much the same, because after only 
half an hour of groping, fumbling and rolling around 
together, they separated and, almost unconsciously, she 
started putting her clothes back on. She certainly wasn't as 
hot after this as she'd been the previous night. 

Emma was surprised to see Charlotte and Penelope emerge 
after such a short time. She was watching a film which was 
thankfully free of all the sex she'd had to watch the last few 
months, and she'd expected to be able to see that and 
perhaps another before the two lovers emerged. She was 
also slightly put off to see Penelope in her clothes again. 

"Didn't you make love?" she asked. 

"Oh yes! We did!" said Penelope with a look of enthusiasm. 

"And did you enjoy it?" addressing Charlotte quizzically. 

"Yes. It was very nice," said Charlotte in a way that left 
Emma more questions unanswered than she'd had before. 

"Oh, that's alright then," said Emma, conscious that further 
questioning was probably not in order. "Shall I wind back 
this film. It's very good." 

"What is it?" asked Charlotte eagerly. 

Emma looked at the video sleeve. "Mary Barton. It's 
based on a book I believe. And it's not a sex video. I 
promise you!"

It was a more relaxed Emma that Charlotte met in the 
kitchen before leaving for work. It was she, and not 
Charlotte, who had spent the night making love with 
Penelope, which, despite a certain element of envy, was 
actually a relief to Charlotte. Emma kissed Charlotte on the 
lips with Penelope's arms around her waist and one of 
Penelope's fingers lightly stroking her clitoris. Penelope 
then followed suit by giving Charlotte a somewhat more 
passionate kiss: her tongue skimming around Charlotte's 
teeth and the roof of her mouth. 

Charlotte left for work feeling more than a little anxious 
about her evening with Josephine. She'd not felt such an 
anxiety about having an evening out with someone since 
she'd first been invited out for a date as a school-girl. An 
anxiety that proved to be well-founded when all the boy 
seemed interested in was getting his hands inside her 
clothes and pulling her knickers down. She didn't care 
enough about him to even bother stopping him. Her day at 
work seemed to drag on. Perhaps it was just that all the 
most tedious end of the month accounting happened on the 
same day. Or perhaps it was the way that the clock was 
going so much slower than usual. 

There was a temp on reception who took naturist license a 
little further than most by straying out of the office with no 
clothes and down to the building's foyer. This was the only 
incident of an otherwise tedious day and by no means the 
first occasion that a temp had misinterpreted departmental 
policy for sexual license or overt exhibitionism. When the 
day ended, Charlotte found herself sitting next to this temp 
by the bus-stop waiting for the bus which would take her to 
Josephine's flat in a seedy but bohemian part of town 
distinguished principally by having no underground 
stations. She was going in the same direction, so Charlotte 
found herself doomed to nearly an hour of chatter about her 
boyfriends, her holidays abroad in tourist traps like Croatia, 
Albania and Libya, and how much she thought of herself 
a naturist like Charlotte. 

"It must be great not wearing clothes all day!" she exclaimed 
rather loudly. 

Charlotte didn't really like the thought of everyone on the 
73 bus imagining her naked, so she was quite relieved when 
she left the bus and followed the directions attached to a 
piece of paper in her A-Z and could wander about fairly 
sure that no one was aware she was a naturist. She wore 
rather more clothes than usual for a warm day, sure that 
Josephine would disapprove if she'd turned up even topless, 
and felt rather virtuous for it as she passed others in the 
street showing rather more flesh than she. Men, she 
noticed, always got away with flaunting rather more flesh 
than women, as she passed cars being washed in the street 
and workmen sitting on a wall. 

Josephine's flat was a tiny affair in a large rambling 
building in obvious need of renovation. The door was 
almost bare of paint and an upstairs window was covered 
with cardboard to replace the glass. It was Josephine, 
though, who Charlotte had come to see, and her heart 
audibly thundered as the door came ajar and Josephine 
appeared. 

"I'm so glad you could make it," she said, smiling broadly. 
"It's almost ready - the ratatouille that is." 

The two girls went upstairs to Josephine's flat which was 
full of the aroma of casserole and peppers. It was also full 
of cushions which covered most of the floor and most of a 
rather battered-looking sofa. The other thing it was full of 
was photographs and posters, all of a thespian nature, 
obscuring the dull and faded wallpaper. 

"You can take your clothes off now if you like," announced 
Josephine kindly. 

"Sorry, I'm ..." began Charlotte, who had been convinced 
that she'd be spending the evening in the clothes she was 
wearing. The experience would even be quite novel. She 
now associated clothes as the rather clumsy things she 
was obliged to wear to keep her modesty when travelling to 
work or being in the public eye. But the proposition of 
spending an evening naked with a fully clothed woman 
itself seemed as peculiar as not being naked. 

"Don't be silly!" smiled Josephine. "I know you're a 
naturist, and it doesn't embarrass me at all." 

This was quite different from the image she projected by 
her reserved selection of clothes, which even as a 
concession to the warm weather (being a pair of white 
shorts and blouse) seemed quite prim. However, Charlotte 
couldn't help feeling that the subject having been broached 
it would be rude to decline the offer, so she stripped off 
and laid her clothes neatly in a pile in the tiny hallway. 

The meal Josephine prepared was truly sumptuous. Not 
large in quantity, but certainly so in taste. She was a witty 
woman, which was assisted by her ability as an actress to 
entertain Charlotte in a way that soon had her gasping for 
breath between gales of laughter. Her life as an actress had 
certainly involved quite a few misadventures and meeting 
very interesting people. Charlotte was no expert on 
the theatre or cinema but she knew at least the names of 
many of the people mentioned in Josephine's anecdotes. 
After the meal, the two girls sat together amongst the 
cushions and the odd fluffy toy while Josephine flicked 
through a photograph album of stills from plays, films and 
advertisements she'd been in. 

The great majority of her performances had involved her  
performing naked and often in full penetration sex. The 
photographs Josephine showed was almost like a sequence 
of black-and-white and colour pages from a pornographic 
magazine. There were shots of her being buggered, of 
having semen squirted onto her face, of penises either fully 
in her mouth or on the edge of it, of objects as well as 
penises up her vagina, and shots of her on stage with more 
long-distant versions of the same kind of activity. Even 
many of her stills for television commercials or magazine 
advertisements involved some quite explicit sexual act. 

"How can you make love in front of the camera?" 
wondered Charlotte. 

"It's just a performance," Josephine admitted, looking 
ludicrously modest in the flesh compared to her 
photographic record. "You learn your lines and perform to 
the best of your ability. And it's not the camera I perform 
to. It's the audience that may be looking through that 
camera. That takes significantly more skill!" She smiled 
warmly at Charlotte. "But it takes a little bit more than just 
play-acting to perform sex successfully. So, I was pretty 
grateful to the assistance that Emma and Harriett gave me 
to learn lesbian love. I was able to sail through the auditions 
..." 

"Auditions?" 

"Well, they've got to be sure of how well you perform... I 
sailed through the auditions to get a part in the last film I 
was in where I had to make love to several women. Not 
just men, in this case. And here's the proof!" She proudly 
showed a few photographs which showed her having very 
passionate sex with two women: one of whom was black 
and had a large pink dildo incongruously strapped round 
her waist. "That part got me more money than any part I'd 
played in a film before." 

As the evening progressed and the two girls sipped the 
white wine that Charlotte had brought with her, it seemed 
natural for Charlotte to miss the last bus and stay 
semi-slumped on the cushions on Josephine's floor. It also 
seemed natural when Josephine slipped off her clothes in a 
practised and unembarrassed gesture that Charlotte for all 
her professed naturism was not really capable of. The two 
girls soon lapsed into a kind of contemplative silence, while 
a Compact Disc of a mid-twentieth century string quartet 
played in the background, their arms around each other, 
and Charlotte blissfully happy with the warmth of 
Josephine's flesh against hers. 

And it didn't seem strange when the two girls drifted off to 
bed together and made the tender sort of love that 
Charlotte had always dreamed of making with Emma. No 
penetration. No toys. Not even an attempt at an orgasm. 
Just lying together exploring each other's body with their 
eyes, hands and tongues. As Charlotte looked deep into 
Josephine's beautiful large eyes, her body and heart melted 
like ice-cream on a hot summer's day. Her love for 
Josephine choked her, and the only thing she could do was 
allow a tear to gently loosen itself from her eye and onto 
her cheek. She could only hope that Josephine felt the same 
way. But she was sure. Oh so sure! That Josephine did. 



	X

Emma's new role in Harlot TV took her out of the studio 
background and into active involvement in the television 
station's output, and, in recognition of her advocacy of the 
station, she was promoted to the title of Executive 
Producer. She was now involved in the executive 
decision-making activities of many of the station's new 
programmes, in particular those which she had 
recommended on the basis of her research. 

She had also been given a company car, - a luxury which 
she didn't really need in a city with good public transport. 
But she was very grateful for not having to travel to work 
by underground and having to dress for the occasion. Now 
she was able to take her nudity with her to the garage 
attached to the flat, along the slow-moving traffic, where 
she avoided the voyeuristic glances of other commuters, 
and from the television station's underground car park to 
the studio. All she ever needed to wear were a pair of 
sandals to protect her feet from chafing on the pedals. 

Much of her work was involved in the production of St. 
Denis Road, a soap opera that Emma had suggested to the 
board on the basis of the statistics she'd gathered on the 
international sales of sex programmes. She'd ascertained 
that sex soap operas were always initially quite expensive to 
set up, but that those which reached a certain standard 
found a ready and profitable international market. She also 
made suggestions on the structure of the programmes to 
permit efficient editing to meet different standards for 
different stations and, indeed, different countries. In many 
cases, this might involve shooting different versions of the 
same scene. 

The suggested method was that certain regular parts of the 
programme would consist of sex scenes which could be 
defended as integral to the story (so that Harlot TV could 
fulfil the conditions of its 4X status). However, the filming 
of these scenes would be designed such that particularly 
explicit scenes could be removed in their entirety so that an 
edited version of the scene could be broadcast without 
affecting the series' continuity. Furthermore, to ensure that 
the soap opera remained interesting even after the total 
removal of penetration, semen, oral and anal shots, it was 
necessary to have sufficient soft core titillation between 
such scenes. The general atmosphere of the soap opera was, 
therefore, of rather coy and playful scenes: where for 
instance water would be spilt on a woman's chest and 
thereby requiring removal of her top, or a penis would be 
caught in a fly, interspersed by much harder scenes which 
could contain urination in the mouth, anal sex or double 
entry but could be removed without too much plot 
discontinuity.

One innovation, which quite pleased Emma, was to 
introduce children to the cast so that the programme 
could attract an audience of special interest without actually 
doing anything illegal. The justification was that as the 
soap opera was intended as an account of a normal suburban 
street, there would necessarily be children. As long as they 
were never touched by an adult and there was no hint of 
sexual activity, the children could be filmed having a 
bath, going to bed and sitting on the beach where nudity 
was relatively natural. Emma was convinced that the 
market for such coy child erotica would maximise the soap 
opera's attraction and thereby its sales. 

There were about half a dozen children in the series, from 
about eight to fifteen years of age. The fifteen year old boy 
and his fourteen year old girlfriend were permitted to kiss 
and even be filmed naked together, but the letter of the law 
was strictly observed. No close-up crotch shots. No 
touching of breasts or genitals. No explicit discussion of 
sex. There were two boys of eight and thirteen, and two 
girls of fifteen and twelve. The fifteen year old girl was 
particularly fond of taking showers and of sporting 
activities like swimming and racing which normally don't 
require wearing clothes. 

The twelve year old girl, Maisie, was also often to be filmed 
without clothes, but Emma was intrigued to see that, unlike 
the other child actors, she didn't immediately slip on her 
clothes after filming. She behaved totally naturally without 
clothes and often when the set was finished the only two 
characters still naked would be Emma and Maisie. Maisie 
had a slender frame which had lost its childhood tummy but 
hadn't yet developed any breasts or pubic hair. Her dark 
hair was cut into a bob and her nose shone appealingly 
between apple-shaped cheeks in a perpetually cheery face.  

Emma immediately developed an affection for Maisie, 
perhaps because her natural nudity reminded her of when 
she first developed her naturist tendencies in  
childhood. She also remembered the somewhat less than 
sympathetic response of her parents when they became 
aware of her policy of nudity except when absolutely 
necessary. "Aren't you thoroughly ashamed of yourself?" 
her mother would say. Perhaps Maisie would also need 
encouragement in her tendencies. Or at least a balance to 
the discouragement she might normally receive. At Harlot 
TV, however, nudity was no problem and nobody treated 
Maisie at all differently than was Emma herself. 

After shooting an episode of the soap opera one afternoon, 
Emma was walking through the foyer towards the lift to the 
underground garage when she saw Maisie sitting on a chair 
in a sweet blue dress with white ankle socks reading a 
comic book. Emma wandered up to her. 

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked kindly. 

Maisie looked up and smiled that beautiful little smile that 
Emma found endearing. "Not really. It's just that my train 
only arrives once an hour, and I've got absolutely ages to 
wait." 

"Oh, that's alright!" said Emma, almost without thinking. 
"I've got a car. I can drive you home." 

"But I live miles away." 

"That's no problem," Emma said reassuringly. 

And so Emma took Maisie down to her car, and drove Maisie 
to her home in the very outer suburbs which was actually 
a great problem getting to. The journey was a long haul 
through urban traffic where traffic lights frustrated any 
good spurt of movement. However, talking to Maisie took 
Emma's mind off the journey. She'd never thought that the 
appeal of comic book characters, pop stars, school lessons 
or school friends could be so fascinating. 

Maisie's mother was a teacher at the local Further 
Education College and had divorced her father. Maisie had 
always been very keen on acting and her mother had been 
the one who'd encouraged Maisie to attend the audition for 
the part in St. Denis Road. She smiled cheekily. No, she 
didn't think her mother really appreciated the sex content of 
the soap opera. Yes, she enjoyed working on it and she 
loved watching herself on television. Her mother had 
insisted however she shouldn't tell her school-friends about 
what exactly it was she was acting in, but that didn't matter 
because none of her friends had ever heard of Harlot TV 
anyway. 

Emma eventually arrived at Maisie's home in a pleasant 
tree-lined suburban street. She sat in the car, while Maisie 
got out and thanked her for the lift. Yes, she'd love a lift 
next time: it saved her train fare and loads of time. Emma 
watched Maisie go to her front door and briefly saw her 
mother: a woman in her late thirties with a thin face and 
mousey brown hair. She watched Maisie enter the house 
and felt a strange spasm of sadness as Maisie waved 
goodbye. 

Emma drove back to her flat (a journey that took well over 
an hour), and on the way her thoughts were on Maisie. 
Such a sweet girl! she thought. When she got home, she 
found Charlotte in the front room watching a film by herself 
on the movie channel. "Hiya," she said wandering over to 
the kitchen to prepare a small dinner (she didn't feel hungry 
somehow). Then she went back and nestled against 
Charlotte. Charlotte was a little surprised, but responded by 
gently wrapping her arm round Emma's shoulders. 

Charlotte seemed much happier these days, Emma 
surmised. She knew that she had a new friend, but they 
never talked about it much. At first, Emma thought it was 
one of Sarah or Penelope who she'd known had been 
particularly interested in Charlotte, but it became fairly 
obvious that it was neither of them. Whoever it was, Emma 
didn't care. As long as her best friend was happy, that was 
all that mattered.  

Charlotte and Emma stayed enmeshed together in front of 
the television. Emma was engrossed in her thoughts but 
also concerned that Charlotte might think there was 
something wrong. At least Charlotte didn't try anything on 
like she used to do. In fact, Charlotte's apparent lack of  
sexual interest was the very reason that, for the first time, 
the two girls went to the same bed and slept together all 
night with their naked bodies entwined.

Emma wondered whether it was because Harriett was away 
abroad that she felt so empty these days. She received a 
regular flow of short letters and postcards from the 
different countries that Harriett was being filmed in. It was 
almost always a surprise to see yet another different 
postmark on the letter or very different country depicted on 
the front of a postcard. One week Uzbekistan, the next 
Slovakia and then maybe Kurdistan or the Kashmir. In all 
these places, Harriett would describe the sex scenes she'd 
been filmed in, what special friends she was now making 
love to and how much she missed Emma. The more 
passionately Harriett was making love and the more lovers 
she had, the more she appeared to miss Emma. She'd 
jogged round Hanoi naked (apparently a great sport in that 
naturist city). She'd swum naked in the Tigris. She'd made 
love to a transsexual in Detroit (famous for its sexual 
variety). It all sounded very exciting and Emma was very 
conscious of not being part of it. 

Harriett's and Emma's lovers weren't visiting so often these 
days. Susan had come round, but seemed more interested in 
chatting to Charlotte, who was again out, than anything 
else. And, no, she wouldn't make love if she wasn't being 
watched. Penelope came occasionally, but extremely 
irregularly and always unannounced. When Charlotte was in, 
she and Emma would spend time together, but what Emma 
wanted from Charlotte, and she emphasised it whenever 
hands wandered, was friendship not passion. They now always 
slept in the same bed, but Emma reasoned it was for the 
warmth and comfort of their bodies. She enjoyed Charlotte's 
accounts of Josephine's stories and was pleased that 
Charlotte had at last formed a true lasting lesbian 
relationship. She was surprised that it was one which 
involved very little of the penetration sex she'd enjoyed 
with Harriett, let alone bondage, anal or urination, but 
then Charlotte was a lesbian and Emma wasn't. 

Emma had got into the habit of taking Maisie home from 
work. In fact, she went considerably out of her way to be 
available to do so. But then, of course, you can't leave 
a child to travel alone on public transport. You heard 
such stories! Emma shuddered to consider the idea of 
Maisie being involved in any form of child abuse. Some 
people (paedophiles or paederasts, she wasn't sure) are so 
disgusting! She enjoyed listening to Maisie's stories about 
school-life, the other cast on the set and her mother. She 
discovered for instance that the fifteen year old boy wasn't 
really interested in girls at all, let alone his 'girlfriend', 
and was known to have a relationship with one of the male 
actors. Also, this 'girlfriend' had slept with all the men on 
the cast and boasted about it. She would say "I'm not yet 
sixteen but I've had more than sixteen good fucks!" 

Her mother was a teacher of Communications & Life 
Skills, English Language and Video Appreciation, and, 
though apparently a very good teacher, felt frustrated at her 
lack of career advancement. She had wanted to be an 
actress, but when she was young she failed audition after 
audition and was so thoroughly disenchanted that she opted 
for a career as a teacher instead. Also, Emma found out, 
her mother was very interested in her. 

"Why's that?" she wondered. 

"I suppose because I tell her about you," said Maisie. "She 
knows you're an important person on the set and she 
wonders why you take so much interest in me." 

"I just don't want to see you come to any harm going home 
from work." 

But Emma was aware that other people at Harlot TV had 
commented on Emma's friendship with the young girl. One 
colleague, who had several children herself, told her 
that it was Emma's maternal instinct. Emma didn't want 
to tell her that whatever it was, it wasn't a maternal 
feeling she had towards Maisie. What it was, she wasn't 
sure, but she spent rather a lot of time thinking about the 
girl. 

"Mummy would like to meet you, you know," commented 
Maisie. 

Emma felt a sudden rush to her throat, and in a slightly 
throttled voice she said "Is next time all right?" 

And indeed it was. And the next time that Emma drove 
Maisie home, she took the car up the drive and followed 
her into the house. Maisie's mother seemed startled at first 
and it took Emma a few minutes to realise that perhaps it 
was because the silly woman wasn't accustomed to women 
walking around with no clothes. Maisie went to her 
bedroom from whence, just seconds later, thundered some 
of the pop music she particularly liked which to Emma's ear 
sounded suspiciously like, if rather more lightweight than, 
the music she enjoyed at Maisie's age. Maisie's mother, 
Dorothy, smiled resignedly at Emma over her cup of coffee 
as if to suggest that she couldn't help Maisie's musical taste. 

Dorothy was a slim small breasted woman with a broad 
smile which clashed with her weary eyes, which suggested a 
life of great disappointment. 

"Maisie's told me so much about you, Emma," she said.

Emma smiled. "And she about you..." 

"It's strange for me to entertain with such strong principles 
- in naturism and so on - working for sex television..." 

"It doesn't matter," smiled Emma, who'd heard this kind of 
thing before from other women. "I'm just doing a job. And 
one which allows me to be a naturist." 

Emma allowed herself to sink into a role which with the 
practice she'd gained with Harriett and her friends had 
somehow become easy for her, and that was to gradually 
steer conversation away from abstract notions towards sex. 
And so it was that before long, Emma and Dorothy were 
holding hands and looking at each other with obvious 
intent. Dorothy had never made love to a woman before, 
and Emma, in her practised way, reassured her that it didn't 
mean either that she was a lesbian or that they were in any 
way emotionally tied. 

"It's only fun. And harmless fun at that!" she explained. 

"Mummy!" Emma suddenly heard, and then felt Dorothy's 
hand disengage from hers. She looked round to see a naked 
Maisie standing at the doorway and smiling cheekily at the 
two of them. Dorothy was still fully clothed but her clothes 
were rather unruffled and her hair had fallen untidily onto 
her face. 

"What is it, dear?" 

"Just saying good night, Mummy," Maisie said, who walked 
up to Dorothy and kissed her. Then in the same spirit, 
she kissed Emma on the lip, and disappeared off to bed. 
Dorothy smiled at Emma as she watched Maisie going 
upstairs to bed. 

"I think Maisie's a bit like you with regards to clothes," 
Dorothy said with an apologetic tinge to her voice.  

"And a very good attitude it is, too," laughed Emma, 
undressing Dorothy. 

Perhaps it wouldn't have happened like this if Harriett had 
never introduced Emma to sex, or perhaps if Harriett were 
here and not fucking in Burundi, but the result was that the 
following morning Emma and Dorothy were breakfasting 
together with Maisie after a night which for Dorothy had 
been a sexual adventure she'd never experienced before. 
This need to explain herself wearied Emma somewhat who, 
after all, had heard it several times before from other 
women, and, to be honest, had felt rather distracted from 
exertion during the night. In fact, as she finally 
closed her eyes after Dorothy had given up stroking her 
clitoris, the abiding image in her mind was that of the 
naked Maisie framed in the doorway as she went to bed. 
It was with a tremor of excitement which almost upset 
Emma's cup of tea, she saw a naked Maisie enter the 
kitchen to join them for breakfast. 

"Oh! You're still here!" Maisie said to Emma. 

"Yes," said Emma, smiling as welcomingly and naturally as 
she could, but nonetheless suddenly aware that it was not 
just her relationship with Dorothy that had changed 
overnight, but that with Maisie had also changed 
irretrievably. "I'm still here!"

	XI



Charlotte's life was now spent on a cloud. Each day drifted 
by in a euphoric haze, waiting for the evening in which 
she'd either make love with Josephine or sleep with Emma. 
This was paradise: the two women she loved being so 
close. She could imagine Josephine and her beautiful body, 
her wonderful jokes and the lovely way her tongue lingered 
over her clitoris. Or she could fix on Emma who, despite 
never letting Charlotte touch her groin nowadays, allowed 
much more license than before. How could life ever 
improve on this? 

Emma was in love too, Charlotte knew. But not, alas, with 
her. She also had a dreamy air about her these days. An air 
of easy distraction. Her eyes would wander away with her 
thoughts. She was fairly sure that Emma had never been in 
love before, and it had always been clear that, despite the 
passion of their lovemaking, she'd never been in love with 
Harriett. Emma spent many nights each week with a 
teacher called Dorothy who lived a long way away. But from 
her conversation it was pretty clear it wasn't Dorothy who 
Emma loved. In fact, it seemed like a relationship that 
Emma was either already tired of or had regretted even 
beginning. Why then did she continue to see this Dorothy? 
Even though Emma's old lovers weren't visiting nearly as 
often as they used to, Charlotte was sure they remained 
a viable alternative. 

However, it soon became impossible for Charlotte to hold 
off Josephine's entreaties that she come and visit Emma and 
Charlotte at their flat. Charlotte couldn't continue just 
visiting Josephine's rather small flat when her own flat was 
both larger and more accessible. Charlotte loved every inch 
of Josephine's home. She loved every cushion, every 
joss-stick holder, and she and Josephine had names for all 
the fluffy toys that lay around the place. The teddies, the 
gollies, the trolls and other evidence of the soft 
under-belly of Josephine's character. Often the two of them 
just laid together cuddling up close to whatever fluffy toy 
was at hand, just happy to be in such a nursery of erotic 
joy together. 

Josephine was starring in a few episodes of a soap opera on 
one of the sex stations - but not St Denis Street nor on 
Harlot TV at all. The plot sounded very silly, but it 
troubled Charlotte that Josephine had to make love with 
several men and women in the process of filming the series. 
"It's only work!" assured Josephine. However, the studio 
was close to Charlotte's flat, so she had to relent to 
pressure and invite Josephine round for tea with her and 
Emma, who would be at home that day. Charlotte reasoned 
that there was no cause for anxiety as things were 
and anyway Harriett was working abroad ... where was it 
this week? The luxury casinos of Baku? 

And indeed, when Josephine arrived after work, all seemed 
to go well. Emma had volunteered to help Charlotte 
prepare the meal and throughout the preparation, they 
chatted just as much as friends as they'd ever done. Emma 
was fascinated by all that Charlotte told her about 
Josephine and on occasion she leaned over and kissed her, 
apparently moved by the depth of her passion. Charlotte 
wondered how her relationship with Emma would continue. 
Josephine often talked about her, and how much she had 
appreciated Emma's lovemaking and, of course, that of 
Harriett. But she often said that whereas with Harriett, she 
could see the actor, there was something essentially genuine 
about Emma's sexual performance. 

Emma talked to Josephine like an old friend as soon as she 
arrived, and indeed as the evening progressed, with each 
course, Charlotte began to feel that her unfocussed dread 
had been fully justified. Bit by bit, she felt increasingly 
isolated from the general drift of conversation. Why was 
this? she wondered. Why couldn't she get into the general 
flow of chat? Perhaps, she reasoned, it was because Emma 
and Josephine were just inherently more interesting people 
than her. Emma was now a successful executive producer, 
famous for her nude promotion of Harlot TV and 
Josephine was an actress, destined, Charlotte was sure, for 
fame and fortune. 

Her fears almost overwhelmed her, as she saw with horror 
Emma use her new practised skills of seduction to ease 
conversation and activity towards sex. She reminded 
Josephine of their first sexual encounter and stroked 
Josephine's knee in a way that promised more. And then 
Charlotte saw the two girls move off together, Emma's arm 
around Josephine's waist to where sure enough Josephine 
would begin to take her clothes off and the two would 
make love. 

"Don't leave Charlotte," protested Josephine, as Emma 
eased up the white tee-shirt over her neck to reveal the 
white brassiere underneath. 

"Charlotte?" queried Emma, turning round to look at 
Charlotte sitting disconsolately at the table in front of a 
collection of cheese, biscuits and a glass of half-finished 
wine. 

"Doesn't Charlotte ever join in when you and Harriett make 
love?" wondered Josephine pulling a knee-length white 
sock off her leg to reveal a shapely white foot. 

"Well," commented Emma cautiously. "Well ... no." 

"Why not?" 

"I don't know. It's just never seemed right." 

Josephine stood up, wearing just one sock and a pair of 
knickers. "It doesn't seem right without her!" she exclaimed 
in a way that showed disapproval for Charlotte's exclusion. 
She walked up to Charlotte and leaned over, her breasts 
dangling, a beautiful rosette of nipple on each, and kissed 
her full on the lips. Then she pulled Charlotte out of her 
seat by the arms and dragged her over to Emma. 

And so it was that for the first time Charlotte made love 
to Emma together with Josephine. From what she had seen of 
Emma's usual love sessions, Charlotte's presence appeared to 
act as a restraint on the sexual games that were played. It 
was much more like the gentle love she and Josephine 
indulged in. Although Emma forced her forefinger up 
Charlotte's wet and ready anus, and both she and Josephine 
put tongues and fingers as deeply inside Charlotte's 
vagina as it was possible to go, there were no dildos, 
sex toys or anything like that. Of the two lovers, 
Charlotte wasn't sure whom she preferred. This was a 
peculiar thought, Charlotte reflected, as she deeply loved 
both women - but the two were very different as sexual 
partners. Emma was the more adventurous and the one 
most keen on penetration. Josephine, like her clothes, was 
more reserved, and also the more tender. 

The three made love for hours and eventually collapsed on 
Charlotte's bed. Some moments, she was kissing Josephine 
deep inside her mouth, while Emma played around in some 
mysterious way with her vagina. And then her teeth were 
nibbling Emma's clitoris, while Josephine was stroking 
her buttocks and groin. 

If there's a heaven, contemplated Charlotte as she gasped 
from yet another orgasm of passion which could surely be 
heard in all the adjacent flats. If there's a heaven, 
she continued contemplating, glancing down at her two 
lovers tongues around her groin, supporting her wet and 
sticky torso in their naked arms. If there's a heaven, then it 
must be like this!

One of the unanticipated penalties of spending her working 
hours in the nude, Charlotte discovered, was that the 
battering she was getting these days around her groin could 
not be easily hidden. The swollenness of her vagina after an 
evening of sex with Josephine or with both Emma and 
Josephine just could not be disguised. Neither too could the 
bite marks around her clitoris or on the top of her thighs.  
Nor could she hide the bruise she'd somehow inflicted on 
herself while Emma was guiding her body to yet more 
torturous demands. And when, on a whim, Emma 
suggested that she'd find Charlotte more attractive if she 
had no hair on her crotch, Charlotte now shaved her crotch 
every morning, an affectation that was impossible to hide 
for long at the office. She had to invent an allergy to 
explain her new appearance, but anyone who cared to look 
at all carefully at her battered body could see that it was 
best explained by the demands of lovemaking. 

Charlotte was surprised when Emma first suggested she shave 
in this region. Surely it went against the grain of her 
naturist views: her uncut hair, her unshaven armpits and 
her vegetarianism. And it was noticeable that Emma didn't 
shave off her own pubic hair. But any sacrifice she made 
for Emma was surely worthwhile, and she didn't begrudge 
it at all. And, anyway, she was sure it increased Emma's 
passion for her. 

Most nights Emma wasn't at home and Charlotte assumed 
she wasn't lying when she said that it was because she 
was sleeping with Dorothy. Charlotte couldn't understand 
the attraction Dorothy exercised, but she felt it must 
have something to do with Emma's curious moods, her long 
gazes into the distance and this heightened passion for 
sex. Perhaps, it might explain Emma's new fascination 
for shaven groins. Or maybe this increased need to swamp 
herself in erotic pleasure. 

Most of Charlotte's nights were spent with Josephine who 
had no difficulty in sharing her lover's affection with Emma. 
Perhaps it was because Josephine could see that Emma was 
not in love with Charlotte and was therefore no threat in 
that way. Perhaps it was because she could see that the 
continued ambivalence of their relationship caused 
Charlotte so much distress. Josephine was definitely a 
comfort to Charlotte. They spent many hours holding each 
others naked bodies. Watching television. Talking. 
Sometimes just in silence. It was Josephine who made 
Charlotte's life whole and who ensured that she didn't get 
depressed about the way her deep passion for Emma was 
reciprocated only in a physical (perhaps even too physical) 
way. 

However much she loved Josephine, and she loved 
Josephine dearly, Charlotte was still besotted by Emma. 
How can it be possible, wondered Charlotte, as she mused 
on this, to love two people so much and at the same time? 
She needed the nights with Emma when she was thrown 
roughly onto the carpet, carrots and courgettes inserted up 
her vagina, the little drip of blood when they'd been a little 
too rough, that wasted, wet and dripping feeling as the 
hours of lovemaking drained her of all moisture and energy. 

"Susan's coming this evening," Emma announced to 
Charlotte when she returned home from work and was 
throwing off her clothes. 

"Susan?" wondered Charlotte who'd not seen the oriental 
girl for a long time and assumed she'd not be visiting again. 

"Yes," Emma said mysteriously. "I invited her." 

"For dinner?" 

"And sex," said Emma, having no patience for avoiding the 
crux of the subject. "I've been thinking that what I need 
might be her." 

"Oh?" said Charlotte sadly. 

"And you will stay and watch, won't you?" asked Emma 
with a weary smile, knowing that Charlotte could never 
refuse her anything. Charlotte nodded resignedly and then 
the two girls went into the kitchen to prepare a bean 
lasagne for dinner. Emma explained to Charlotte that she'd 
recently been thinking about Susan and, stroking Emma's 
bare crotch, she'd also been thinking of shaving off Susan's 
pubic hairs. Charlotte couldn't really see why Emma should 
get so much erotic pleasure out of such a small thing, but 
she nodded her head. 

Emma and Charlotte finished cooking before Susan arrived, 
and made passionate love together in front of the television. 
Emma's imagining I'm Susan, thought Charlotte as Emma 
pushed her fingers deep inside her anus. And when Susan 
arrived, a bit shy towards Charlotte, she could see that 
Emma was somehow more solicitous towards her than 
she'd ever been before. Susan tried, however, to disengage 
herself from Emma's attention and affix herself on Charlotte 
whom she touched shyly but affectionately. 

"Oh! You've shaved your vagina!" she exclaimed. "It does 
look odd! Emma's asked me to come so that she can shave 
off my crotch. I agreed, of course, but more to see you than 
anything else. Why is Emma so keen on shaved crotches 
though?" 

Charlotte didn't know but she didn't want to appear too 
ignorant of her lover's feelings. "Emma's been seeing this 
older teacher a lot recently. I think she's learnt some pretty 
odd things from her." 

Susan nodded, as if this somehow explained it.  

After dinner, Susan took off her clothes in a number of 
quick movements, practice learnt from her career as a porn 
star. Charlotte noticed with a pang that Emma seemed 
excited at the sight of Susan's tiny breasts, slim figure and 
narrow hips. Then Emma gently sat Susan down in a chair 
and parted her legs, so that the whole of her vagina was 
revealed. Then, using Charlotte's shaving foam and brush, 
she lightly lathered the hair around the groin.  

Charlotte stood back to watch the care and attention Emma 
was paying to Susan's crotch as she shaved it with her 
safety razor. Susan also watched with a slightly puzzled 
expression as the hair came off with each scrape of the 
blade. When Emma finished, she lightly washed off the 
foam and splashed it with water to remove the loose 
cuttings of hair and shaving foam. Susan and Charlotte 
looked bemusedly at the now bare crotch. It was very 
smooth, revealing the folds of her labia around a somewhat 
larger vagina than might have seemed possible for such a 
small girl. 

Susan smiled at Charlotte and then, curiously shyly, at 
Emma. 

"My crotch hasn't been like that since I was a child!" 
she announced. 

Somehow this statement excited Emma, and it was in no 
time at all that Charlotte witnessed the two girls roll over 
onto the carpet and make love. And such ferocious passion 
as well. It was frightening to watch. How could Emma have 
so much energy? And what was the passion that possessed  
her as she bit and pummelled away at Susan's bare crotch 
which was fast accumulating bite marks and bruises. Even 
Susan seemed frightened by Emma's passion. It was 
unrelenting and nearly violent. Or perhaps it was violent. 
Charlotte didn't feel, as she most often did when she 
watched Emma make love with someone else, that she 
wanted to be actively involved. 

In fact, her feelings were very much more with the bruised 
and dazed Susan who later that evening she took to bed 
with her, while Emma, uncharacteristically and perhaps 
brusquely, went to bed by herself. It seemed to Charlotte as 
she watched Emma leave that she was rather unhappy. 
Whatever it was she'd hoped to gain from her lovemaking 
with Susan hadn't been achieved. And was it the sound of 
Emma crying or sobbing that Charlotte occasionally heard 
during the night? as she held a strangely silent Susan to her. 
She looked like someone who had been used and discarded, 
and Susan didn't seem to have relished the experience. 
Although the two girls didn't exactly make love, they 
stroked their shaven crotches, their thoughts elsewhere, but 
somehow Charlotte was sure, focused on the same woman. 

What was the trouble with Emma these days? Charlotte 
wondered. Why can't my love for her make her feel better? 
Am I the one at fault or is it she? It was several hours until 
Charlotte could fall asleep, knowing that the morning 
would come too soon and she would not feel much better 
for only a few brief hours of sleep. 



	XII


"Are you staying with Mummy again tonight?" Maisie 
asked Emma while they watched two of the cast of St. 
Denis Road making love. 

One of the cast had just passed her sixteenth birthday and 
could now be filmed legally in sex scenes. She had looked 
forward to this day for a long time and had discussed with 
Emma which of the cast she would most like to be filmed 
having sex with. An additional complication was that her 
"boyfriend" from the cast was still under age, so she 
had to be portrayed as unfaithful. This conflicted with 
the general ethos of the program especially as her 
preferred fuck was her 'father'. It was necessary to opt 
for her second preference: a next-door neighbour who in 
the program generally played a rather simple humorous 
role wherein he often lost his trousers and underpants. 

However, the scene Maisie and Emma were watching featured 
her having sex with her 'father' in a specially filmed 
episode intended for export partly in deference to the 
girl's actual desire and the added interest generated 
by making such a 'pirate' episode. Emma wondered what 
boost it might bring to the programme's already quite 
respectable ratings. 

Maisie had become rather accustomed to seeing such sex 
scenes and Emma didn't really feel at all embarrassed to be 
with her as the 'father' and 'daughter' carried on in their 
enthusiastic way. But she did get a little embarrassed by 
Maisie's question. 

"Why yes, of course," she answered. "Why do you ask?" 

"Oh, no reason!" Maisie replied. "Oh look at Melissa! You 
can see she's often done this before!" 

And indeed you could as she took her 'father''s penis with 
a practised air and aimed the come directly into her mouth. 
Emma wondered about this. It would make good television, 
but it somehow compromised the premise of the character's 
virginity. Perhaps this scene would have to be edited out 
and attached to an episode where she would be supposedly 
more experienced. 

At the end of the day, after congratulating Melissa on her 
performance and scheduling her 'official' episode for the 
following day, Emma again waited for Maisie to be ready 
for the drive home. Maisie was chatting with Melissa who 
was giving details of how she and her 'father' had practised 
for this scene. Eventually, they headed for the car and put 
on their seat-belts. Maisie had stopped wearing clothes at 
all: at home, at work or even in the car. This had caused 
comment from others at the station about Emma's influence 
on the child, despite it being entirely Maisie's choice. 

Dorothy didn't wear many clothes either these days, but she 
couldn't really be called a naturist. She generally wore a 
dressing gown and was eager to hide her nakedness from 
Maisie. But there was very little hesitation about taking her 
clothes off when the two women went to bed. Emma 
carefully avoided being rough with Dorothy. She reserved a 
certain kind of respect for Maisie's mother and felt there 
would be something distasteful about treating her quite as 
passionately as she would Charlotte or Susan. In fact, 
Emma was aware, she didn't really make love to Dorothy 
with anything like the passion she did most other women. 
Why then did she still stay with Dorothy and Maisie so 
often? 

Dorothy didn't bother to hide her affection to Emma from 
Maisie. As soon as Emma and Maisie made their way from 
the garage to the house, she would kiss Maisie tenderly on 
the cheek and Emma for a few moments longer deep inside 
the mouth. While sitting together with Maisie in the living 
room, watching television or having dinner, Dorothy would 
squeeze Emma's hand, put her arms around her shoulder 
and occasionally lean over and kiss her. 

Dorothy and Emma chatted with Maisie about work and 
Melissa's exciting day. "She's ever so good at it," Maisie 
said. "A lot better than Nancy." 

"Nancy?" wondered Dorothy. 

"She plays Maisie's 'mother' on the show," explained 
Emma. "One of the running jokes in the series is that Maisie 
keeps catching her 'mother' making love to milkmen, 
neighbours or her 'father'. Because of that Maisie's got 
rather used to seeing Nancy making love on the set." 

"And what's Nancy like?" wondered Dorothy. 

"As an actress? Or in the sex scenes? Well, she's good as a 
comic actress. She used to be in the theatre before sex 
television. She was quite used to being in trousers-down 
and breasts-out comedies. She's improving her sex scenes, 
but it's not really that important how well she performs 
every time. We can always edit the scenes if we have to." 

"Why don't you always do that?" 

"We're obliged by the terms of our charter to provide a high 
percentage of authenticity in the sex scenes." 

"And so my daughter sees rather a lot of sex at work, does 
she?"  

"I'm afraid so, but she mustn't appear as a participant in any 
sex scene. Nudity is permitted and non-sexual touching of 
other children, but everything else is totally forbidden." 

"Well, that's alright then," commented Dorothy, but not 
sounding very convinced. 

When Maisie had left and the first thumps of her audio 
system could be heard, Dorothy leaned over to Emma and 
rather forcefully pushed her tongue straight into her mouth. 
Emma was taken aback a little, but soon reciprocated and 
the two women began caressing each other. Dorothy's 
dressing gown slipped off and the two of them were naked. 
Emma detached her tongue from Dorothy's mouth and 
whispered in her ear. 

"Shouldn't we go to the bedroom?" she asked. 

Dorothy didn't answer and instead became noticeably more 
amorous. Perhaps she likes the novelty value of making 
love in the living room with the television burbling on, 
thought Emma, who herself rather liked the change of 
scene. It wasn't too long till all consideration of such 
niceties were forgotten as the two struggled together, groin 
rubbing against groin. For the first time, Emma inserted her 
middle finger all the way up Dorothy's anus and was 
somewhat startled by the passion of her response. 

"Oh God!" Dorothy gasped. "I love you! God! Deeper! 
Deeper!" 

It was at that moment Emma caught a glimpse of another 
figure in the living room. It was Maisie, sitting 
calmly on the settee watching Emma and her mother make 
love. 

Emma abruptly stopped and whispered urgently to 
Dorothy: "Maisie's here! And she's watching!" 

Dorothy looked up from Emma's breasts where she had 
been biting at her nipples. 

"So what!" she said before returning with more vigour. 

As Emma leaned back while Dorothy's finger started easing 
into her own anus, she looked questioningly at her lover. 
She could just about mouth the word "daughter". Dorothy 
responded by pulling her face directly up to Emma's and 
pinching her clitoris firmly. 

"If she sees sex every day at work," she whispered, "what 
difference does it make if she sees it at home?" 

Emma couldn't argue with that and indeed the thought of 
Maisie watching their lovemaking rather added more 
excitement to the proceedings. She enjoyed catching sight 
of Maisie from the corner of her eyes as Dorothy prised 
open her vagina and pushed as much of her tongue and 
some of her fingers as deep inside her as she could. She 
looked at Maisie's pretty figure as she reciprocated by 
swivelling round to put her mouth and fingers dangerously 
deeply into her mother's slightly shit-smelling backside. She 
hoped Maisie didn't spot her as she detached a piece of 
dried shit which had got caught in her teeth. 

Maisie was still there when Emma and Dorothy had finished. 

"You're still not as good as Melissa," she commented 
matter-of-factly.  

"Don't be so rude to Emma," laughed Dorothy. 

Emma blushed. "It really doesn't matter," she said, but at 
the same time feeling curiously snubbed. 

Later, when Dorothy and Emma were in bed together and 
Dorothy had failed to interest her lover in making love, she 
commented: "You don't fool me, you know." 

"Fool you?" started Emma suddenly feeling guilty. 

"Yes, you know, - about my daughter ..." 

"I don't know what you mean..." 

"It's not me you're in love with at all. It's not because of me 
you come here so often and share my bed. It's Maisie!" 

"Maisie!?" 

Dorothy sniffed with a mixture of contempt and sympathy. 

"You don't have to pretend. I do know. It's Maisie you're in 
love with!"

Now that Dorothy had made it obvious what her real 
feelings were, Emma felt curiously disoriented. She now 
understood why she was so obsessed with Maisie. She also 
understood why she had insisted on poor Charlotte shaving 
off her vulva and why she had become so eager on making 
love to women with small breasts and slender hips. She also 
could also see what she'd been hiding from herself and what 
had been making her so unhappy. 

At first Emma felt very guilty at being discovered by 
Dorothy. She was a paedophile. Someone who wanted to 
molest children. Someone whose desire was to corrupt 
youth and pervert them to her own despicable lusts. This 
made her cry, and she clung tightly to Dorothy who was 
surprised at the depth of Emma's response. She'd probably 
not realised that Emma hadn't let herself recognise her love 
for Maisie. A few days later, though, Emma felt relieved 
that it was out in the open at last. She didn't have to 
pretend to herself. And she didn't have to pretend to Dorothy. 
But, and this dampened her relief, she did have to continue 
to pretend to Maisie. 

"What can I do?" she confided to Dorothy. "I see her every 
day when she's on the set. I can't suddenly stop seeing her 
and pretend she's not there. And am I to stop coming here 
where I see her all the time? What can I do?" 

"You do love Maisie," commented Dorothy. "And 
sincerely." She pulled the younger woman towards her 
front and held her tightly to her breasts while Emma wept 
in self-pity and held back the occasional choke.  

When Emma left the following morning to drive back to her 
flat, Dorothy was particularly insistent that she should visit 
again. "You mustn't make your feelings for my daughter 
blight your life," she insisted. "In fact, I'll have a word with 
her." 

"What good would that do?" sobbed Emma as the garage 
door opened and she drove off. 

The next time Emma came to stay with Dorothy was again 
after a day in the studio where she'd been polite with 
Maisie but tried not to look directly at her. She mustn't 
torture herself. She had to let her feelings gradually die. 
Maisie, however, seemed peculiarly jolly and made many 
strange comments about the other cast. She particularly 
made a point of watching this episode's sex scene which 
continued Melissa's affair with her 'next-door neighbour' 
and was followed by a scene in which her 'boyfriend' (who 
in fact had already had sex with the 'next-door neighbour' 
in real life) discovered the two together and had to appear 
rather distressed. 

"Melissa's really enjoying these sex scenes," commented 
Maisie. "She much prefers it to all those swimming pool, 
bathroom and bathing bed scenes." 

This sounded odd to Emma who knew that Maisie had her fair 
share of exactly those kinds of scenes. In fact, the only 
times she wore clothes (except when she went to school) 
were those scenes where she was not required to be naked. 
In those scenes, Maisie seemed almost a different girl 
but no less seductive. 

When Emma and Maisie arrived at Dorothy's home, she 
noticed a curious air of anticipation about Maisie. An air 
she'd sensed on the journey back where Maisie spoke 
relatively little and often looked at her. What could 
Dorothy have told her daughter? Surely she wouldn't have 
told the truth? 

Dorothy smiled and hugged Emma. "I'm so glad you 
decided to come," she said. "I was frightened you'd never 
come again. And Maisie's pretty glad too." 

"Why Maisie?"  

Dorothy put her arms around Maisie's shoulders and pulled 
her towards her dressing-gowned body. "Well we spoke 
didn't we, Maisie?" 

"Yes," said her daughter with none of the older women's 
caution. "Mummy told me that you've got a crush on me. 
She said that you want to have sex with me." 

"She did!" gasped Emma in alarm. 

"Well, Maisie asked some pretty direct questions..." 

"And I said to Mummy that I don't mind. After all, Katie's 
done it enough times."  	

Katie was another girl on the set, a little older than Maisie 
but still rather young. But what was Maisie saying? "What 
don't you mind ...?" Emma asked, hardly daring to guess. 

"You know, silly," laughed Maisie. "Mummy says she'll 
help." 

"Help what?" 

Dorothy interceded. "Help you make love with my 
daughter, of course! She's not done it before, but she's very 
keen on the idea. She said she thought you might, as she 
calls it, fancy her, but she didn't know if you'd ever ask. 
Apparently, she's been wanting you to ask her from 
whenever she first met you." 

"You're quite nice," Maisie admitted. "And you look really 
nice too. And you're not going to stick a willy in me like the 
men do. Katie says it sometimes hurts really bad and it's 
better with girls." 

And so it was with trepidation that Emma made love to 
Maisie. Her mother held her head and shoulders in her lap 
and stroked her hair while Emma explored Maisie's body 
with her tongue and fingers and encouraged Maisie to 
reciprocate. At first, both of them were very awkward. 
Emma was in awe of Maisie's beautiful child's body. Her 
heart thumped like a steam-hammer and her cheeks burned 
like toasters. Maisie, meanwhile, watched Emma with the 
intense concentration of a child, no doubt wondering what 
pleasure was supposed to be given. 

After a while, Dorothy moved away and sat discreetly on a 
chair. She occasionally nodded and smiled encouragement 
at her daughter who was gradually getting more used to 
what she was doing and feeling. Maisie crawled down 
Emma's body and explored her vagina with her tongue and 
fingers. She opened up the labia and peered right in. "It's 
much bigger than mine," she commented, as she put her 
fingers right in. "And it's very sticky!" Emma gasped as she 
swivelled round so that she could stimulate Maisie's tiny 
little vagina. The difference in size required Emma to bend 
over in a very unnatural manner to insert her tongue there, 
while most of the work came from her fingers as they 
exercised Maisie's minuscule clitoris. 

"Ooh! That feels funny," giggled the child. "And you give 
out ever such a funny smell. And you've got a funny thing 
like a little boy's willy." 

"You've got one too," commented Dorothy. 

"But it's not like this!" Maisie exclaimed. "And there's lots 
of folds here and lots of hair. Oooh! It keeps getting in my 
teeth! And what are you doing to my bottom? That feels 
really funny! I think it's nicer at the front. There's much 
more space!" 

Emma's and Maisie's lovemaking session was very different 
from what both had expected. Maisie had expected the 
world to explode like fireworks and that she'd gasp and 
make noises just like the other girls did on the set of St 
Denis Road. Emma hadn't really considered how much 
difference pre-pubescence made on sexual awareness and 
sexual attitudes. Maisie had no concept of homosexuality, 
perversion or sexual morality. Her only criteria were 
comfort and pleasure. She thought the smells were funny 
and that Emma sweated too much. Also, neither of them 
had really considered the difference their sizes made, 
particularly in terms of sexual organs. Maisie found Emma's 
spectacularly large and her nipples enormous. Emma found 
she had to be much more careful and considerate with 
Maisie's vagina than she'd ever been with one before. It was 
as delicate as a new flower and resisted penetration by even 
Emma's tidily manicured fingers to an extent she'd never 
imagined. 

At the end of it, Maisie felt slightly disappointed and Emma 
felt she had somehow passed through an emotional stage in 
her love-life that perhaps most lovers go through long 
before they had had as many sexual encounters as she'd had. 
Maisie complained that she hurt in certain places, 
particularly her bottom, and was covered in saliva from 
Emma's tongue. 

"Don't worry, dearest," her mother reassured her. "The first 
time is always a bit funny." 

"Does it get better?" Maisie wondered. 

Dorothy looked meaningfully at Emma who surrounded her 
daughter lovingly in her arms and was filled with peculiar 
and conflicting thoughts. "That depends on the next time, 
doesn't it?"

Maisie was jolly pleased that she had a girlfriend now. 
Especially a grown-up one and one as important as Emma. 
Even Katie didn't have a girlfriend although she was always 
making love with different people on the cast. It was much 
nicer to just have the one girlfriend and not lots of different 
ones even if you still sometimes felt just a little sore when 
you went to the toilet. 

When she was at the Harlot TV studio, she would stay as 
close to Emma as possible, often holding her hand and 
sometimes kissing her on the face or other places which she 
thought of as special places. Emma didn't seem to mind the 
hand-holding, but she didn't like the more intimate stuff. 
"You shouldn't do that at work," she commented.  

"Why not? Melissa does all the time. She's always fucking 
people even when she's not being filmed!" 

"Well, don't! Some people don't like to see it!" 

"Oh! You're such a Silly!" Maisie exclaimed, pointedly 
kissing Emma's clitoris in the way that Emma usually liked 
so much. She liked to tell Katie and the other children on 
her cast about what she did with Emma at home. What was 
especially nice was the way they would tell her more about 
the things they did. It was like joining a new club where the 
membership fee was to have done it with someone. 

"I think Emma's really pretty!" said Melissa. "I'd love to 
fuck her!" 

"What about your mum?" asked Katie. "Does she join in?" 

"Not really!" admitted Maisie. "She does it with Emma but 
not with me. But she kisses me a lot when she's done it with 
Emma and she makes such a lot of noise. It's funny how 
much noise Mummy makes. It's ever so much more than 
Emma! And she smells funny too." 

"You ought to do it with your Mummy," advised Melissa. 
"It'd be a lot better!" 

"Isn't that naughty?" wondered Maisie. 

"Don't be silly!" exclaimed Katie. "Mummy's been doing it 
with me for years! She says that's why she got me into this: 
so's she could watch me doing it on television. She says it 
gives her a real kick. And she says if my Daddy hadn't left 
Mummy years ago, I could do it with him." 

"Daddy used to do it with me before he left with Uncle 
Freddie," said Melissa. "And I've never done it with 
Mummy. And I've asked her ever so many times!" 

Maisie still wasn't sure it was right to make love with her 
mother, but since her mother was always there watching 
when she made love with Emma it was easy to try it out. 
The next time Emma and she were making love together 
she looked at her mother who was fingering herself in the 
front like she often did. 

"Why don't you join in, Mummy?" she asked.  

Her mother nodded. She sometimes did do, but only to 
kiss, fondle or stroke Emma. She crawled onto the bed 
beside Emma and Maisie and kissed Emma on the mouth 
while Maisie's tongue nibbled appreciatively at Emma's 
clitoris. Then Maisie lifted herself off Emma and nibbled her 
Mother's vagina. It was quite different to Emma's, she 
could see. It looked a bit older with a few greying and 
coarse hairs and the pubic hair was somehow less bouncy. 
She pushed her tongue in deeply and was pleased to hear 
her Mother make groaning noises. This was different! 
thought Maisie, as she disengaged one of her hands from 
underneath Emma who was, in any case, enrapt in locating 
her mother's anus and sticking her finger up it. She pushed 
her fingers into her mother's vagina and watched as Emma 
put her much larger finger into the back where little dark 
brown bits stuck to the hairs at the back. Maisie put her 
tongue to the area between the vagina and the anus that 
Emma particularly liked. It was nice and sticky and smelt 
strongly of a different kind of sex smell to Emma's. Her 
tongue occasionally lapped against Emma's finger which 
she'd often before put into her mouth and licked off her 
own sticky stuff. 

Suddenly, Emma and her mother pushed themselves apart 
and Maisie to one side. 

"Maisie! What are you doing?" gasped her Mother. "What 
on earth are you doing!" 

"Don't you like it, Mummy?" wondered Maisie. Katie told 
her that her mother always liked doing it. Why should her 
own mother be different? Maisie's mother simply looked 
aghast. 

"It's nice dearest. But you shouldn't do it," Emma tried to 
explain. 

"Why not?" asked Maisie who felt she'd done something 
very naughty and didn't like being told off for it. "Katie 
does it. And Melissa. And Mummy seemed to like it!" 

On this occasion, both Emma and Maisie's mother were 
adamant that Maisie shouldn't continue, and indeed the 
whole of the rest of the evening was spoilt. Maisie started 
crying and retreated to her room leaving the other two 
looking both guilty and upset. She lay in bed, naked as 
always, sobbing into her pillow. "What did I do wrong?" 
she asked herself. 

A little later, Emma came up to her room but she didn't 
come into the bed with her as she usually did. She sat by 
Maisie holding the sobbing girl's head to her breast and 
comforted her. 

"Mummy just doesn't want you to do that with her," she 
tried to explain. 

"But I wanted to do it with Mummy!" sniffed Maisie. "You 
can! Why can't I?" 

Emma smiled grimly. "It's different for me," she explained. 
"Anyway, Mummy says she doesn't want to watch us 
together any more. She says it's not right. So we'll just have 
to make love together in your room." 

"But Mummy's bed's a lot bigger and more comfortable." 

"Well, perhaps we can use Mummy's bed. But not with 
Mummy there." 

After this occasion, Maisie noticed quite a different 
atmosphere at home. Emma made love with her less often 
and more often with her mother. Maisie felt she was being 
punished for something she'd not done, and she believed 
that Emma felt the same way. Emma was actually even 
more affectionate with Maisie than before, but seemed 
obliged to spend more time with her mother. Maisie was 
sure that it was she rather than her mother that Emma loved 
the most, but that Emma had to please her mother to be 
allowed to sleep with her at all. Maisie had the idea that in 
some peculiar way, Emma was paying her mother sex to 
have sex with her. What a funny way to pay! 

She mentioned this to Emma when they next made love 
together. 

"It's like you have to make love to Mummy two or three 
times for every time you make love to me. Why don't 
you make love with me more often?" 

Emma looked startled at Maisie's observations, as if she'd 
been found guilty of theft. "Well, no, it's not really that I'm 
paying Mummy to sleep with you," she said in a way that to 
Maisie's ears sounded like a lie. "But Mummy says I've got 
to spend more time with her." 

"But if you didn't do it with Mummy, would Mummy let 
you do it with me?" 

Emma didn't answer, but bit her lip. There was an 
uncomfortable pause before Emma changed the 
conversation. Nonetheless, Maisie thought that Emma was 
somehow upset about what she'd said. 



 XIII


It was Amelia to whom Emma reported at work. Amelia 
was a stunning woman, Emma thoughtobjectively. Certainly, 
the way she dressed was quite unusual. She wore stocking, 
suspenders and very high stiletto heels, but then, except 
for the cloak she sometimes threw over her shoulders and 
which came down to just below her buttocks, she wore 
nothing else at all. Amelia certainly wasn't a naturist, 
otherwise, like Emma, she wouldn't have affected any 
clothes at all. Nor was she particularly poor. Her clothes 
changed quite frequently - although they remained the same 
in principle - and looked fairly expensive (not that Emma 
was at all sure how much clothes actually did cost). Emma 
learnt that Amelia owed her position as one of the 
Executive Directors of Harlot TV to holding a substantial 
stake in the company's shares, and she was one of the 
company's founders. She'd made her fortune as a sex actress 
while in her teens, and, unlike many sex actresses, she'd 
saved her money and chose to invest it in the relatively 
new venture of sex television, rather than spend it on 
drugs and gambling.

Emma found Amelia rather intimidating. It wasn't Amelia's 
age, though she was a little older than Emma, being in her 
early thirties. Indeed, despite being older, Amelia was still 
very attractive and took care to remain so. She had a trim 
figure which would have been athletic except that it was 
offset by a voluptuous bosom which might have been surgically 
enhanced. Her black hair fell straight onto her shoulders and 
then was cut so that it was shorter at the back than the 
front. Her chosen style of dress emphasised her legs. The 
stretch from her toes to the top of her thighs was 
breathtakingly long, and her pubic hairs were tidily trimmed 
to further exaggerate the length.

It wasn't often that Emma was called to Amelia's office. She 
had just been supervising a production she had conceived: a 
guest show where ordinary members of the public would 
have the chance to fuck a celebrity. She had to concede that 
this was probably not one of her best ideas because 
ordinary members of the public might have enthusiasm but 
not technique, whereas the celebrities performed more for 
the camera than for their apparent partners. This meant 
rather more footage and clever editing than was normally 
budgeted for such programs. She had been sitting with 
Maisie who had alternated between pulling Emma's clitoris 
and putting a finger up her anus, and complaining about 
why Emma was spending so much more time with her 
mother. Emma was getting a bit upset about this herself, as 
her love affair with Maisie was getting unnecessarily 
complex. Would she have to drop Maisie? And could she 
survive the wrench?

"Amelia would like a word with you," announced Amelia's 
Personal Assistant, Betty, who, as always, appeared out 
of nowhere. Betty was a slender girl with glasses and 
hair tied in a bun. She always wore a very smart suit, with 
stockings and stilettos, but only a bra under her jacket. 
She was smart and officious, and had a habit of somehow 
vanishing into the shadows wherever she was, so you were 
never sure she was still there or not. Betty took no 
apparent notice of Maisie's blatant behaviour, and Emma 
wasn't at all sure if her attitude belied disapproval or 
acceptance.

"Why do you want to see me?" asked Emma when she was 
sat in front of Amelia in the comfortable armchair provided 
for visitors. She felt very nervous as Amelia leaned forward 
stroking her chin and allowed her breasts to touch the 
shiny oak veneer of her desk.

Amelia smiled warmly. Behind her were pictures of actors 
and actresses - including a young Amelia - engaged in 
various sexual postures. On her desk was an expensive 
laptop computer. 

"To see you." she answered enigmatically. She allowed Emma 
time to get a little more uncomfortable and then explained. 
"We've been working together a long time, Emma. Years in 
fact. And you've shown yourself to be very competent as a 
researcher and now as an Executive Producer. But I don't 
think I really know you. I know you're a naturist. But 
then, who doesn't? And I've heard that, unlike most of 
the staff here, you've stayed commendably aloof from the 
sexual games that go on here. But that may just be a wise 
strategy in a business where sexual favours can count more 
than competence in the short run but count against you later. 
You have nevertheless advanced to quite a senior position 
with Harlot TV in a very short time." Amelia paused and 
smiled again. "I thought I'd like to invite you out for a meal, 
so that I can get to know you better."

Emma was taken aback. "Well, that's very kind of you ..."

"Is tomorrow night at the Iguana okay?"

"I think so," replied Emma, aware that she was now 
committed and that the one night of the week she usually 
reserved for visiting her home and seeing Charlotte was 
now taken up.

The Iguana was a restaurant that Emma had never been to 
before, but it had always looked very exclusive. She had no 
idea what to wear, so she had to phone in advance to see if 
naturism was acceptable. She was surprised to find that 
Amelia had already taken that into account, and had 
booked the two of them in to a Private Dining Room.
"That means, madam," explained the gentleman from the 
restaurant, "that you are at license to wear, or indeed 
not to wear, whatever you like." 

Nevertheless, Emma was still very nervous and bought a coat 
for the night. She had no idea what to buy and bought an 
ankle-length coat which forced her to walk in a curious and 
uncomfortable mincing way if she buttoned it to below the 
waist, which she had to do to prevent her crotch being 
displayed. When she arrived she was very nervous that the 
waiter would offer to take off her coat and reveal her 
nudity in a crowded room, but the waiter was incredibly 
discreet. 

"I dare say you would rather leave your coat on until 
we are in the room Ms Uruqhart has reserved."

The Private Dining Room was actually rather small, with 
just enough space for the table, guests and waiters. Emma 
was pleased to find Amelia already waiting for her. At 
first, Emma believed she was dressed as always, and then 
she noticed that Amelia wasn't wearing stockings, suspenders 
or shoes. 

"I'm so glad you came!" smiled Amelia as Emma sat down. 

Emma soon lost her wariness as Amelia engaged her in 
conversation which somehow and subtly shifted away from 
work and general interests to Emma's private life. By 
the time the main course was finished and a second bottle 
of champagne had been ordered, Emma found that Amelia had 
already guessed at her relationship with Maisie. 

"Some of the other Directors thought that maybe you just 
weren't interested in sex at all - though I must say yours is a 
most specialist interest."

Amelia then found out about Emma's relationship with 
Charlotte, Harriett and others. "You really don't like men at 
all do you?"

"I've never really considered it much," confessed Emma 
who still had no opinion on her sexual identity. "They're 
just friends of mine. Maisie's my only real love."

"And her mother?"

Emma confessed to her worries about that, and the way she 
felt that Maisie's mother was blackmailing her into more 
sex with her than she really wanted. But she emphasised 
it was Maisie she loved. Maisie was the only person she'd 
ever loved. 

"I'd love to get to know Maisie a lot better," commented 
Amelia, but didn't elaborate.

The conversation progressed from talk about relationships 
to Amelia's own life history which appeared to involve a 
great deal of travelling, being interviewed, being 
photographed and spending a lot of money. The way Amelia 
described it, it was easy to forget that any of the films 
she'd been in had ever involved fucking at all. In fact, 
as Emma had heard somewhere else, one of the secrets of 
Amelia's success was her ability to take complete penises 
into her mouth and down her throat.

This wasn't a skill that Emma witnessed after the meal, but 
she witnessed many others, when Amelia steered a quite 
tipsy Emma into a taxi and then into the bedroom of her 
substantial town house. The door was answered by a quite 
short and slender black woman in an apron and nothing else 
who prepared the two women a cup of coffee which was 
brought to them in Amelia's bed. Emma had experienced 
enough love from women to appreciate Amelia's sexual 
skills, but she could see that Amelia was a little surprised by 
Emma's sexual appetite and by its tendency towards 
roughness. 

"That Maisie must be battered black and blue!" she 
commented.

Emma smiled and squeezed her teeth more firmly on 
Amelia's firm toe-sized nipple. Rough? Not to Maisie, she 
wasn't. She would only treat the girl with the tenderness 
and care she deserved. True love is never rough.

The following morning Emma was awoken by Amelia's 
servant with a breakfast tray that contained a selection of 
breakfast foods.

She looked around her, but could see no sign of Amelia. 
She looked at the servant questioningly. The servant wore 
the same clothes, or lack of, as the night before but 
appeared no more aware of this than Emma who was 
generally only belatedly aware of what other people wore, 
if anything at all. 

"Madam's already left for the studio," the servant said 
with a reassuring smile. "She said that if you wish to see 
her, the door to her office is always open."

Emma thanked the servant, who left with her black bottom 
showing as she turned out of the bedroom and shut the 
doors behind her. Emma relished her breakfast and stayed 
under the silk sheets for far longer than she'd intended, 
relishing its sheer luxury and enjoying the thoughts of her 
passionate night. She restrained herself from masturbating 
to the memory - she didn't want to add more stains to the 
already love-stained sheets. Eventually, she emerged and 
with the assistance of the servant, who magically appeared 
just when she was needed, she found her overcoat and made 
her way across town to the Harlot TV studio where she had 
to supervise a children's pissing programme. 

This was an idea of Emma's which exploited the fascination 
that children had for pissing and other excretory functions. 
It was much the same as any children's programme except 
for the prevalence of excretion jokes and demonstrations of 
guests' skills at pissing and, to a much lesser extent, 
shitting. Emma didn't actually enjoy the show at all, - the 
smell was dreadful and she didn't envy the cleaning staff at 
all - but it had become one of Harlot TV's most popular 
programmes and had spawned a tamer equivalent on 
mainstream television.

After the show, she decided to take Amelia's offer and find 
out just how open the door to her office actually was. She 
walked down the corridor with rather more trepidation than 
usual, feeling the eyes that always trailed her naked body 
were somehow able to detect her present destination and 
intention. She knocked on the door of the room just outside 
Amelia's office where Betty, her personal assistant, would 
sit and where there were seats for waiting visitors. Betty 
was sitting at her desk in her smart, immaculately pressed 
suit with a computer screen in front of her, occasionally 
pressing a key and moving a mouse around. Betty smiled as 
soon as Emma appeared, and, without waiting for Emma to 
say what she wanted, she said, "I'll see if Ms Uruqhart 
is able to see you. Please take a seat."

She stood up and walked precisely on her stilettos to 
Amelia's office, while Emma sat down on one of the lush 
leather chairs. It felt deliciously cool against her naked 
buttocks. Betty left the door sufficiently ajar for Emma to 
see Amelia's stockinged legs high up in the air whilst a man 
was thrusting in and out of her.

Emma felt a curious twinge of disconcertment. Amelia 
definitely wouldn't want to see her now, she thought with 
disappointment, but at a deeper level she felt hurt that 
Amelia would need sex so soon after their night of passion 
and with a man as well. She saw Betty lean over close to 
Amelia and pass a few words, not seemingly at all abashed 
by Amelia's intimacy. She then strode out to the reception 
area leaving the door still ajar.

"Ms Uruqhart says that she's temporarily tied up 
entertaining a customer, but that she would be more than 
delighted if you would accept me as a substitute for the 
meantime."

Emma wasn't at all sure she'd heard Betty quite right. 
"What do you mean?" she asked hoarsely.

"Ms Uruqhart is not a lady who likes to disappoint those 
whom she considers to be her lovers, - and you are one of 
the very select whom she now considers in that capacity. 
Consequently, she would much rather that I made love to 
you than you were to leave unsatisfied."

"That's very considerate of her..."

"You need not worry about discretion. Ms Uruqhart has a 
room set aside for exactly this purpose. So if you could just 
follow me, please?"

Emma was actively considering finding her way out of this 
embarrassing situation, but somehow Betty's very matter-
of-fact approach and the feeling that she'd somehow be 
disappointing Amelia if she didn't, encouraged her to follow 
Betty into Amelia's office. Amelia was on the desk, her legs 
in the air and her stilettos still on, while a very hairy pair of 
buttocks was rhythmically pushing in and out of her. As 
Emma walked by Amelia turned her face towards her, with 
sweat pulsing down her face, and smiled welcomingly. "I'm 
so ... glad that ... you ... decided to ... decided to ... 
come..." she gasped between thrusts. "To come! To come!" 
She became thoroughly distracted as the quite stout man on 
top of her leaned back with his mouth open pushing deeper 
and deeper into her. "Bet ... ty won't ... disapp ...point you! 
... Ohhh! God! ... God!"

Emma was no stranger to watching men making love to 
women. Normally she saw at least one such event each day, 
and usually in the flesh. She still felt uncomfortable 
about it, partly because it was something she'd not done 
herself, but it was a discomfort lessened by her complete 
indifference to the people involved. This time it was 
different - perhaps because she still felt warm from her very 
recent sex with Amelia. 

Betty, however, was not a bad substitute for Amelia as Emma 
soon found, and the presence of Amelia's lovemaking in the room 
next to them actually seemed to stimulate their passion. Betty 
had taken her to a small room at the corner, the door of which 
Emma had seen before but had assumed to lead to an adjoining 
office. In fact, the room consisted of only a large mattress 
which filled all the floor-space and a window that let in 
light from outside. 

Betty divested her clothes before entering the room. All she 
wore under her smart suit were knickers and a bra, which she 
folded up neatly on a chair. She demurely pulled off her 
stockings, taking especial care not to snag them on her 
toe-nails. Then the two of them fell onto the mattress in 
the room and started making love in a very gentle way. 
Emma found Betty demure and perhaps reticent in a way 
she'd come to associate with Maisie, but at the same time 
she felt a little bored that Betty skirted around her genitals 
and spent so much more time licking and embracing her 
breasts. 

"Do you make love to women very often?" Emma wondered.

"Not very often," admitted Betty, sitting up so that her trim 
figure was silhouetted against the window through which 
Emma assessed that anyone with a pair of binoculars in the 
building opposite would have a very clear view of what the 
two girls were doing. 

"How often is that?" 

"Only when Ms Uruqhart requests," she said with a slightly 
troubled frown. "Aren't I pleasing you?" 

Emma smiled as broadly as she could at Betty's admission 
of inexpertise. "Of course you are," she said, and then took 
complete control of the lovemaking. It was clear that 
Betty's experience of lovemaking with women had generally 
been with fairly inexperienced ones, perhaps only those 
Amelia had seduced. Betty was soon to realise that sex 
with a woman could be just as rough and physical as it 
could be with a man, and was clearly surprised by the 
strength of the orgasms that Emma orchestrated and the 
pain throbbing from her vagina and anus afterwards.

"It's never been like this before," she confessed, when the 
two re-emerged into Amelia's main office to find the room 
empty.

Betty walked to a basin in the corner of the office and 
sponged clean her lower regions and patted them dry with a 
towel. "Ms Uruqhart is no doubt keeping her dinner 
appointment with the representative from Turkish 
television," she commented.

Emma smiled and kissed Betty full on the lips. "I wouldn't 
have liked to have delayed her appointment." 

Betty then carefully reattired herself and led Emma back to 
the reception area where she reasserted herself in her seat. 

"Ms Uruqhart will be very pleased if you would visit her at 
any time that suits you, and will endeavour to avail herself 
on your next visit," she said in an officious manner. Then 
she smiled slightly wickedly. "And if she is not able to do 
so, she will endeavour to assist by any other means."



 XIV


Emma was hardly ever at home these days. Where she was 
Charlotte didn't really know. She believed that Emma was 
still seeing that teacher, Dorothy, and one of Emma's 
colleagues had told her that it was now common 
knowledge that she was having a relationship with her boss. 

Charlotte felt totally excluded from Emma's life. It seemed 
that the only times Emma ever came back to the flat was 
when Charlotte was out - perhaps spending the night at 
Josephine's or still at work. Whatever it was, though, 
Charlotte knew she wasn't part of it, and she was sure that 
Emma wasn't paying her enough attention to be bothered to 
intentionally avoid her. Nevertheless, Charlotte was a 
faithful lover and nothing that Emma could or couldn't 
do would shake her love for her flatmate. 

Perhaps, she hoped, when Harriett returns from her jaunts 
abroad, Emma might be home more often. But even that 
hope - compromised as it was by her feelings that she'd 
again be excluded from their lovemaking - didn't seem very 
likely judging from Harriett's last letter from Baghdad 
where she was making a sex film with a Kurd with whom 
she claimed to have fallen passionately in love. It seemed 
that Harriett had more or less forgotten about returning 
home. Every assignment she had seemed to lead to another 
assignment in yet another exotic location. Charlotte felt 
incredible envy at her good luck in visiting and working in 
places she'd only vaguely heard of, and then in the most 
bizarre of places: Damascus, Samarkand, Shanghai, Puerto 
Rico, the list was endless. Charlotte hadn't realised that the 
sex industry was so widespread, but then these were 
modern days and the sex industry was the world's single 
largest industry (or so she read once).

However, Charlotte wasn't actually lonely. In fact, her 
position as the last of her flatmates to stay in actual 
residence was not at all a lonely one. Her relationship with 
Josephine was building towards an intimacy and passion 
that outstripped anything she'd had with Emma. However 
much she pretended that her love for Emma was 
unassailable, the evidence of her heart as she greeted 
Josephine when she came back from work was that Emma 
had become pretty much the secondary passion. It was 
difficult to be sure what Josephine's feelings towards her 
actually were, though she was sure that she had no other 
lover. However, as Josephine made a living from making 
love with people, it was not for sex that she needed a 
relationship.

Josephine was always much more enthusiastic about taking 
work in stage performances rather than in film or television, 
despite the fact she earned more from a short slot in an 
advertisement or a short role in a film than from a month's 
run with a production in the theatre. However, she was in a 
play at the moment where she played a princess in a harem 
in a production of Sindbad the Sailor. This production 
seemed to spend far more time between the harem sheets 
than anywhere else, and even though Josephine's role was 
fairly minor she still had to have sex with Sindbad, a portly 
actor with a stuck-on goatee beard, and two of the other 
harem girls. 

"The advantage of a stage performance," Josephine 
asserted while the two girls were resting after their 
lovemaking, "is that you make love to the same people 
every night. No surprises, you see. The disadvantage, 
however, is making love to the same boring people night 
after night. No surprises at all."

"Don't you get tired of it?" wondered Charlotte.

"Not tired exactly," Josephine considered. "A bit sore 
perhaps. But not tired so much. And anyway if you know 
what your partner's going to do, you can concentrate on 
your lines. Make sure you come at the right time."

"What are the girls like?" wondered Charlotte who felt a 
sudden spasm of jealousy. She'd seen Josephine on stage, 
and it seemed to her that her lover had particularly enjoyed 
the scene in which the black and blonde girls were having 
sex with her. She felt a particular pang when one of the 
girls inserted a long steel phallus into her vagina while the 
other put her tongue into her anus. Why did Josephine have 
to be such a convincing actor?

"Not as good as you, darling," responded Josephine, who 
as always knew precisely the right thing to say.

Despite Emma being such an infrequent visitor, Charlotte 
kept her vagina shaved as a kind of reminder to herself, if 
nobody else, of the love she felt towards her. It was a 
ceremony every morning, to perch by the bidet filled with 
hot water and to carefully scrape off the bristles of pubic 
hair. It was not, however, a ceremony that Charlotte 
needed to do herself. Susan had left her boyfriend and had 
moved into the flat as a permanent guest. Susan didn't 
shave her own vagina any more - she'd been somehow more 
upset by Emma's treatment of her than Charlotte could 
have imagined and was quite happy to lose this memory 
of the incident. However, she made clearer than ever 
her passionate love for Charlotte. A passion she said 
that eclipsed any previous passion in her life.

This passion rather embarrassed Charlotte, who, although 
she was quite fond of Susan, couldn't say that she actually 
had passionate feelings for her. Well, not feelings that 
compared to those she held for Josephine or Emma. This 
didn't trouble Susan, however, who went to the trouble of 
moving her own bed into Charlotte's bedroom so that there 
was plenty of space for her as well whenever Josephine was 
staying the night. Charlotte's love for Josephine didn't 
prevent Susan leaving her boyfriend, as she claimed it was 
hypocritical to stay with someone who was not your first 
love. She even went to the extent of having her shoulder 
tattooed with Charlotte's name surrounded by a festoon of 
oriental flowers - the only tattoo on her body. This was so 
that when she was being filmed making love, the viewers 
would know the name of the only person she truly loved.

Charlotte and Susan did, in fact, make love together. Part 
of Susan's love for Charlotte was apparently because she 
had at last found a lover to whom she could make love 
without being watched by others. "You make me feel more 
whole!" she would say to Charlotte in her frequent 
outbursts of praise and adoration. "With you I am a whole 
person!" 

Charlotte couldn't deny that Susan's love for her was not 
undesirable. Indeed, Susan's passion for her made it easier 
for her to keep at bay the jealousy she felt towards Emma's 
mysterious sex life and Josephine's thespian one. She knew 
that Susan was also enjoying a sex life away from her. She 
was quite in demand in films that required oriental 
women and, taking account of her small breasts and boyish 
body, sometimes children. Charlotte had even seen Susan in 
some of these films on video. Susan would frequently 
watch them to review her technique and make notes of in a 
small school notebook she kept for the purpose. Charlotte 
occasionally watched Susan and Josephine make love 
together - something she allowed because far more 
frequently she would be making love to Josephine with 
Susan watching.

Susan had a very understanding relationship with Charlotte. 
She knew that Josephine occupied a primary role in 
Charlotte's life - and showed no embarrassment about this. 
When Josephine visited, which was four nights out of 
seven, Susan stayed quite out of the way, occasionally 
watching but more often seeming totally uninterested. Even 
at night, with the three of them under the same sheets, 
Susan would stay to one side as Josephine and Charlotte 
made tender love together. In fact, she admitted to getting 
a warm fulfilment out of seeing the woman she loved 
getting so much pleasure out of sex - even if it wasn't with 
her.

Susan still saw her boyfriend, saying that it wasn't possible 
just to abandon someone who she'd lived with for so long. 
Indeed, she once invited him round one evening. He was an 
oriental himself - shorter than Charlotte and much shorter 
than Josephine, but still taller and less slight than Susan. It 
wasn't very long after the meal, that Susan and he started 
fucking on the living room floor. Charlotte, who didn't see 
this kind of thing nearly as frequently as Josephine, felt 
immobilised by the sight of it. On the one hand, the sight of 
this erect penis in Susan's mouth and then in her vagina 
rather repulsed her. On the other, it brought back warm 
feelings of the men she'd made love with when she was still 
a sapphic virgin. 

After Susan had decided that she'd had enough of making 
love to him, she invited the other girls to join in. "Best to be 
polite!" said Josephine with a smile, kissing Charlotte full 
on the mouth and allowing her tongue to glide over 
Charlotte's teeth. She then went down on the ground with 
Susan's boyfriend, while Susan herself came over to 
Charlotte and put her arm round Charlotte's naked waist 
and gently stroked her pubic hair.

It was inevitable that when Josephine had finished that 
Charlotte felt that, yes, she'd like to have sex with a man 
again. She felt a bit nervous, but Susan's boyfriend, who 
was a sex film actor like Susan, knew how to comfort her, 
and soon she was again enjoying full penetrative sex. She 
occasionally looked up at her friends and could see Susan 
and Josephine, with their arms around each other watching 
her with supportive smiles, and this added passion to her 
activity. She wasn't really making love to a man, she 
thought. It's my friends whom I'm making love with, she 
said to herself as the penis thrust deep inside her and 
brought her to a crescendo of gasps. She enjoyed the deep 
thrust that she'd almost forgotten after all these months of 
sapphic love. She may be a lesbian, Charlotte reflected, but 
that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself with men.



 XV


Dorothy and Emma were wrapped around each other and 
Dorothy's teeth were greedily guzzling on Emma's vagina. 
They'd been having a fairly busy session of love-making, 
enlivened by Emma beating her buttocks quite ferociously 
with a table-tennis bat: a game they'd only recently started 
playing. Indeed many of the games they played had an air of 
brutality: involving the insertion of quite painful objects up 
her vagina and anus, and frequent beatings across the 
buttocks. Indeed, lovemaking with Emma had become 
more brutal than making love to a man had ever been. And 
it was always she who was getting the roughest of it. In 
bed, it was always Emma who was the dominant partner. 
Dorothy didn't mind, though. At least it kept the two of 
them together. She allowed her eyes to wander from 
Emma's clitoris towards her face and noticed that Emma's 
eyes had a far away and distant look in them.

She tried to work out what it was that Emma may have 
been thinking about. It certainly wasn't sex. Perhaps she 
was thinking about her daughter. Certainly, Emma's love 
for Maisie, although rather perverse, was also very 
touching. Emma and her daughter would return together 
from the studio, hand in hand, in delightful joy at just being 
together. Maisie's eyes lit up so brightly when she was with 
Emma. And Emma's eyes also sparkled in a special way 
when she was with Maisie.

There was none of that sparkle in Emma's eyes at the 
moment. Nor did there ever seem to be any sparkle in her 
eyes when they were together compared to that when 
Emma was with Maisie. In fact, - and Dorothy pulled her 
mouth off Emma's crotch at the thought, - the most 
common expression in her eyes was boredom.

"What's wrong, Dorothy?" asked Emma from above on 
feeling Dorothy suddenly disengage herself.

"You don't love me at all, do you?" Dorothy accused her 
suddenly.

"Sorry. What do you mean?"

"It's Maisie you love," Dorothy continued, pushing herself 
back and instinctively covering her breasts from Emma's 
gaze. "Not me at all. You only come here to see Maisie!"

"That's nonsense," said Emma, but blushed like someone 
who had just been found out.

"It isn't, you know," Dorothy continued, standing up and 
putting on her underwear. "You've never loved me, have 
you? You only started a relationship with me to be able to 
see Maisie. I hate you!" She burst into tears and sobbed 
uncontrollably.

Emma jumped up from the bed, with the table-tennis bat 
still in one hand, and put a comforting arm around 
Dorothy's shoulders. At first Dorothy was comforted, but 
then she abruptly flung Emma's arm off. "I don't care. I'm 
not living a lie with you. When you come round here from 
now on, you come round to see and sleep with Maisie. You 
don't sleep with me any more! Do you understand! No 
more sex between us!"

Emma was clearly taken aback. She sat disconsolately at 
the end of the bed looking down at her hands and idly 
examined the rubber surface of the table-tennis bat. "What 
shall I do?" she asked weakly.

"Go into Maisie's bedroom and make love with her, as 
that's what you want to do. But don't come here and don't 
try to make love with me again."

Emma initially resisted leaving, but when a fully-clothed 
Dorothy started pushing her out of the bedroom it was 
clear that her erstwhile lover was in earnest. She obediently 
walked into Maisie's bedroom where the child was 
delighted by the surprise visit. 

A new pattern had formed in Emma's relationship with 
Maisie and her mother. From now on Emma's visits to 
Maisie's home felt much less welcoming than before, but 
her love for Maisie drove her to continue.

Dorothy felt both sorry for Emma's discomfort when she 
was visiting and bitter now that they were no longer lovers. 
When Emma and Maisie came home, she would greet 
Maisie as warmly as before, but was much more frosty 
towards Emma who she greeted as briefly and politely as 
she could. Then Emma and Maisie would retreat to Maisie's 
bedroom where they no doubt indulged in their sex games 
together. Games from which Dorothy was now excluded.

She sometimes speculated as to what Emma and her 
daughter did together. She knew the games that she had 
played with Emma herself, and she remembered how rough 
they could be. She still had red marks on the cheeks of her 
buttocks from when Dorothy felt in need of a beating and 
Emma had obliged. She remembered the occasions when 
she had nearly broken her nose in repeated batterings 
against Emma's buttocks. And she could still feel the 
carrots, cucumbers and other such vegetables that Emma 
would force up her vagina and sometimes her anus. She 
remembered the tiny blood stains that sometimes dripped 
out from between her legs the following day after a 
particular passionate night, irrespective of how close it was 
to her menstrual period.

Dorothy's concern for Maisie was also coloured by a wave 
of jealousy: one which wasn't at all improved by the fact 
that her daughter was quite obviously enjoying the extra 
attention that her lover was giving her. Dorothy would 
often see Maisie squeeze Emma's hand tightly in affection. 
She would see Maisie grip Emma tightly around the waist, 
and nuzzle her nose in the bushy mound of Emma's pubic 
hair. Emma's affection for Maisie was also undeniable. In 
her more charitable moments, Dorothy reflected stoically 
that at least the two people she cared about most were 
happy together, even if they didn't seem so happy with only 
her.

However, this uneasy relationship couldn't last for long. Its 
strain was particularly agonising when Dorothy saw Maisie 
licking at Emma's vagina while her hair was being 
appreciatively stroked. Or when she heard her daughter's 
cries of ecstasy or, less frequently but louder, those of 
Emma, coming from Maisie's bedroom during the evening 
or night. But the final moment was when an ecstatic Maisie 
came rushing in to confide to her mother what she'd been 
doing.

Dorothy was reading a book at the time. She'd just finished 
marking some essays, and had squeezed ear-plugs in her 
ears to drive out the sounds from Maisie's room of Emma's 
cries and the dreadful thumping of the bed against the wall. 
Then she noticed her daughter coming in, naked as always 
and saying "I've done it! I've done it!"

"Done what, dear?" wondered Dorothy, looking up from 
her book and noticing for the first time that Maisie wasn't 
actually naked. She was wearing quite a sizeable, 
anatomically correct, dildo around her waist which looked 
monstrous on such a small slender frame.

"Why, Mummy! I've fucked Emma! I've always wanted to 
and now she's let me!"

"You've done what?" demanded Dorothy angrily. Is this the 
sort of language she'd taught her child to use?

"I've fucked Emma!" Maisie said, with a mixture of residual 
ecstasy and satisfaction tinged by uncertainty derived from 
her mother's tone.

"Don't use that language with me, young lady!" Dorothy 
suddenly shouted, slapping her daughter on the face. "Don't 
use words like that ever again!" She slapped her daughter 
again.

Maisie fell back on the bed crying, with the still-moist dildo 
sticking out incongruously. 

"What have I done wrong, Mummy!" she cried. 

At that moment, Emma arrived, with trickles of sweat still 
running down her thighs and chest. 

"What's going on?"

From then on, the evening was a long tirade of screaming, 
shouting and accusations - mostly made by Dorothy. Maisie 
cried to herself - and only said anything when asked. And 
then whatever she said seemed only to make things worse. 
Emma said very little, but was clearly unhappy. 

Finally, Dorothy announced: "If you want to see my daughter 
again: Fine! But don't come around here again. Have your 
perverted sex somewhere else, and don't let me know about 
it!"

"Can I stay at Emma's then?" wondered Maisie through her 
reddened, tear-stained face.

"If you must! It's none of my concern what you do 
together! But Emma's not to cross the threshold of this 
house again!"



 XVI


At last! Maisie was going to visit Emma's home and meet 
the girlfriends Emma had told her about. Actually, she'd 
would only meet one of them, Charlotte, because her 
other girlfriend was working abroad at the moment making 
sex films. But it was so exciting anyway to be staying 
somewhere that wasn't her normal home. And as Emma had 
explained to her, she might be staying at Emma's flat quite 
frequently in the future. Ever since Mummy had argued 
with Emma, staying at home had become quite awkward, 
with Mummy being so sullen and being funny about her not 
wearing clothes. Why had it been alright to wear no clothes 
before and now totally wrong? Grown-ups were so funny!

Emma's flat was in such a very old building which you had 
to go up ever so many stairs to get to. And when you got 
there you had to use keys just as you had to get into the 
building in the first place. But the flat was very welcoming, 
with a book-cupboard and a vase of dried flowers in the 
hallway just outside and a very pretty poster of more 
flowers on the actual door. Emma and Maisie hadn't put 
any clothes on after leaving the studio and going by the car 
from the television car-park. Nor did they from getting out 
of the car in the apartment block's underground car-park to 
entering the flat. It was a strange thing, Maisie thought to 
herself, to lead a life of no clothes. None of her school-
friends did that.

Inside the flat were more naked bodies: there were two 
girls with shoulder-length hair lying on a sofa and idly 
playing with each other and another girl watching television 
from a sofa. Only this other girl wasn't so naked and she 
looked terribly young. In fact, as Maisie soon realised, this 
girl was wearing only a tee-shirt, advertising a popular soft 
drink, and only looked young because her body was so 
small and slight. She was Japanese or Vietnamese or 
Chinese or something. When Emma and Maisie entered the 
living room, there was a sudden eruption of activity as the 
girls jumped up to greet them. Maisie began to realise that 
none of these people had seen much of Emma for a while 
and were asking her ever so many questions about what 
she'd been doing and telling her about what they'd been 
doing.

"And who is your young friend?" asked Josephine, 
addressing Maisie, who not unnaturally was feeling rather 
out of place.

"Maisie," announced Emma. "Her name's Maisie. She's on 
the cast of St Denis Street."

"I've seen that," said Susan rushing up and kissing Maisie 
tenderly on the cheek. "You're not called Maisie on the 
program. Though I can't quite remember what you're 
called. It's a very popular soap opera."

Charlotte was feeling rather overwhelmed by the arrival of 
the other love in her life. And where was this teacher that 
Emma was supposed to be living with? And what about this 
boss of hers? And what had this little girl ... this naturist 
little girl ...got to do with anything? She'd not been aware 
that Emma had ever had children. She soon pieced together 
from the conversation that Maisie was this teacher's 
daughter and that because her home was such a long way 
from the Harlot TV studios it made sense for her to stay the 
night at the flat. Why did it make sense now and not 
before? wondered Charlotte, before being rushed off in the 
group towards a chattering mass of anecdotes and 
recollections that accompanied the preparation of dinner - 
which everyone had a hand in - and its consumption over a 
bottle of wine.

Josephine and Susan were excellent with children - 
especially Josephine who shared a child's enthusiasm for 
fluffy toys and for life in general. Susan helped in her own 
way by being a sort of bridge between Josephine and 
Maisie, and the conversation she was having with Emma. 
Emma was affectionate as she'd used to be, and in fact was 
rather less tense than Charlotte had mostly remembered. It 
was as if some load had been taken off her mind.

She was even rather surprised to see that Charlotte was still 
shaving her crotch. "There's really no need to do that for 
my sake!" she exclaimed. "I'm really not worth such love!" 
Charlotte felt her old warm emotions swell towards Emma 
as the conversation went on. She was right, she said to 
herself, to have kept her loyalties true to Emma. 

It wasn't long until Charlotte's thoughts moved towards 
sex. She kept her hands and arms on Emma as much as she 
could and was pleased to see that Emma wasn't pushing her 
off. After the dinner, she and Emma sat together on the 
sofa, their arms around each other, tenderly kissing each 
other's face and breasts and talking intently. Charlotte 
allowed her hands to wander down to Emma's crotch and 
was just about to start stimulating her clitoris in the way 
that Emma had always seemed to like, when Emma 
abruptly pushed her hand to one side.

"Don't forget Maisie!" Emma remarked pointing out the 
child who was busily discussing computer games and pop 
music with Josephine and Susan. Charlotte nodded and 
decided that it was probably best to wait until the child had 
gone to bed before she and Emma became more physically 
intimate.

When Maisie did go to bed though, in Emma's double bed, 
Charlotte was surprised to see Emma go to bed at 
precisely the same time. Emma wasn't known for being 
the sort of girl who went to bed especially early, but it 
particularly peeved Charlotte. She had hoped that she and 
Emma would be going to bed together. Josephine could see 
that Charlotte was disappointed, but as a faithful friend she 
let Charlotte herself take the initiative in moving towards 
bed where Susan was already waiting. Susan could also see 
that Charlotte was disappointed, and so it wasn't too 
surprising that with both of Charlotte's lovers being so 
concerned about her welfare that very soon all three of 
them were making intense love together. And not too long 
until the flat was shaken by the sounds of the three girls 
passionate cries - particularly those of Charlotte, who 
despite her disappointment was still intensely excited by 
Emma's return to the flat.

After a while, Charlotte, Josephine and Susan felt that 
they'd had enough and lay exhausted on top of each other, 
the salt of Susan's sweat dripping down her nose and into 
Charlotte's mouth, while Josephine's shiny moist legs 
wrapped around Charlotte's. It was at that stage that 
Charlotte became aware of the sound of lovemaking 
coming from Emma's bedroom: a sound at once familiar 
from the countless conjugal couplings that her bed had been 
party to and unfamiliar because Emma had been so much 
absent of late. But yes! it was lovemaking. And it was 
coming from Emma's bed. There were the unmistakable 
gasps that Emma made when she was at her most 
passionate and a thundering noise as her bed rocked 
repeatedly against the wall.

Charlotte put a finger to her mouth and looked at Josephine 
with a quizzical expression. "Who ...?" she mouthed.

Josephine smiled reassuringly and whispered, "There are 
two people making noises in there."

"Two?" wondered Charlotte, but sure enough there was 
another relatively squeaky voice also making sounds 
indicative of passionate love. "Surely not Maisie..."

"She's very honest about her relationship with Emma," 
commented Josephine, reminding Charlotte of who had 
been talking to Maisie all evening. "It seems they've had a 
relationship for several months now, which for a girl of her 
age will have seemed like forever."

"But how can Emma be making love with a girl who's 
basically just a child?" wondered Charlotte.

"Don't worry about that," smiled Susan stroking the bristles 
on Charlotte's crotch. "But I think you'll find that one bald 
crotch is enough for Emma now."

Charlotte looked down at Susan's face peeking up cheekily 
from just beneath her stomach. She couldn't help smiling back 
at the good humour that Susan was emanating, and experienced 
a certain weight of mystery about Emma's intentions and 
desires suddenly lift by the light of Susan's illumination.

Josephine also smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere. 
Much as she dearly loved Charlotte, she was aware of an 
element of deception in their relationship. She knew that 
Charlotte didn't really have any lovers besides herself and 
Susan - a situation basically unchanged since Emma's return 
to the flat - but this didn't deter her from making love 
widely and freely, and not just because her job required it. 
However, she appreciated Charlotte's sensitivity on such 
issues better than Susan. She knew how much Charlotte 
loved her, and also how much hurt it would cause her to 
know that she might have made love to one or more men 
during the day. Josephine also knew that her love for 
Charlotte couldn't possibly equal the intensity of Charlotte's 
for her. Or even Charlotte's for Emma. This despite the fact 
that since Emma had returned to the flat, she's spent 
virtually all of her time with Maisie.

It felt strange to Josephine to be in the midst of so much 
love and passion. It wasn't that she didn't feel love or 
passion herself. It was just somehow less intense. Less 
exclusively focused. She rather appreciated her own flat on 
the other side of town, where she would sleep one or 
maybe two nights a week: often just by herself in amongst 
her cuddly toys. It wasn't just Charlotte's love for Emma 
and her, or Emma's passion and jealousy of Maisie, 
there was also Susan, who was so absurdly obsessed with 
Charlotte. Not that this prevented Susan from having sex 
with men, nor if the opportunity occurred, either through 
her work or otherwise, with other women. As a sex actress, 
her attitude towards sex was extremely ambivalent, and 
although Josephine didn't share the same feelings, she could 
see how it might be possible to feel passionately in love 
with one woman, and still really enjoy sex with many other 
people including, of course, Josephine herself.

Susan had made her worship of Charlotte into something of 
a religion. Not just shaving Charlotte's crotch (which had 
now discontinued since Maisie's appearance on the scene) 
but in the way she brought Charlotte breakfast in bed, 
fussed around her all the time and combed her hair. 
Indeed, if Charlotte had allowed it, she would probably 
wipe her arse clean after Charlotte had a shit. Susan 
had even tried to demonstrate the permanency of her love 
by getting a small tattoo put on her upper shoulder with 
Charlotte written on the face of a red rose.

Josephine knew more than Charlotte of the intensity of 
Susan's passion, as she was in the position of being 
Susan's confidante. She knew that Susan always fantasised 
about making love with Charlotte whilst making love with 
other people. She knew that Susan claimed to have never 
truly loved anyone else before. This was why previously she 
could only make love to an audience, as a way of exciting 
her libido through exhibitionism. She knew that Susan 
religiously spent half an hour to an hour each day 
masturbating with a variety of sexual aids, concentrating 
her sexual passion entirely on Charlotte.

Although Josephine knew that Charlotte was fully aware of 
Susan's love for her (it was after all declared almost every 
day) she was sure Charlotte wasn't aware of its intensity or 
its purity.

The way that Susan would selflessly sit aside to permit 
Josephine to make as much love to Charlotte as her true 
love desired, and only participated when her well attuned 
sexual instincts told her that Charlotte was truly prepared. 
The way Susan would tirelessly watch Charlotte and jump 
to attention whenever an opportunity to be helpful 
occurred. The way Susan never betrayed, even to 
Josephine, the frustration and disappointment she must 
have felt in not having her love reciprocated.

Josephine didn't have to go to work that morning. Indeed, 
the only one who had to was Charlotte, and, with a little 
help from Susan, she'd been packed off to work in her 
overcoat and sandals while Josephine was still luxuriating 
naked in bed. In fact Josephine was really only stirred into 
real wakefulness when Susan slid back under the sheets 
after slipping off the kimono she habitually wore, lowered 
her hands down to her crotch and began stroking her 
clitoris as she often did after bidding Charlotte off. 
Josephine rolled over to watch Susan's fingers busy 
themselves around the top of her vagina, while her other 
hand stimulated her nipples. She looked up at Susan's face 
to gauge whether she wanted more than private pleasure, 
but she knew enough by now that although she would 
participate with apparent enthusiasm in any lovemaking 
Josephine might propose, most likely her preference 
would be to excite her imagination.

Josephine really didn't feel like disturbing Susan, so she 
swung her feet off the bed, rubbed some of the detritus 
from her eyes and quietly wandered off to the kitchen. 
When she got there, she noticed that she wasn't the only 
one wanting breakfast at that time. The kettle was boiling 
and a couple of mugs were standing prepared with 
teaspoons inside. Just by the kettle was a bread board with 
a plastic bag of sliced wholemeal bread and organic 
margarine. There also was Emma: her bare behind sticking 
suggestively out as she leant over to look in the cupboards, 
quite as beautiful from behind as from anywhere else.

Josephine heart leaped as the eroticism of Emma's posture 
struck her, and, following her desires, she picked up 
the tub of margarine, fingered out a scoop of it onto her 
forefingers and approached Emma. She tenderly started 
stroking Emma's behind in the way she knew Emma would 
enjoy. At first Emma started, but as she felt Josephine's 
practised caresses, she grunted appreciatively, and relaxed 
as with one hand Josephine stroked around Emma's 
buttocks and gradually eased open her cheeks. Then she 
brought her other hand round and with a little force eased 
the margarine into the squeeze between the buttocks, while 
at the same time exercising Emma's clitoris and cunt with 
the other hand and kissing her neck from behind. Then 
when Emma's arse was sufficiently greased, she pushed her 
fingers deep inside her anus and pushed away from the rear 
while at the front pushing harder and harder into Emma's 
vagina. Emma laid her hands against the wall, surrendering 
herself to this unexpected erotic assault. 

While Josephine was thus engaged and Emma's little gasps 
became more throaty, she felt a hand brush against her 
back. It was Susan who was smiling broadly and was 
handing her a rather long carrot. Josephine took the hint, 
and while still stroking and exercising Emma's cunt, she 
gradually eased the cool rough carrot into Emma's anus. As 
this was happening, she felt Susan's hands grip around her 
as Susan began stroking Josephine's vagina and then 
passionately kissing Emma full on the mouth.

Josephine found that she who'd instigated all this was 
somehow in the midst of it with Emma in front and Susan 
behind. Her senses began to swim: partly from passion and 
partly from the strain of making love while standing up on 
the kitchen linoleum. It didn't surprise her too much to feel 
Susan's fingers probe deep inside her own backside, though 
her gasp of pleasure surprised her when it erupted from her. 

"Oh Emma! Emma!" gasped Josephine in great passion. 

"Oh! Charlotte my love!" whispered Susan a little 
inappropriately. 

"Ooohh! Ooohh!" gasped Emma in little eructations of 
ecstasy. 

"Where's the tea?" came a quite different voice.

Startled, Emma pulled herself free and looked at Maisie 
who had come into the kitchen, naked as always, to see 
three much more mature but also naked women indulging 
in sex with vegetables and margarine. 

"I'm hungry," Maisie complained rubbing her eyes with her 
little fists. 

She didn't seem at all perturbed by the girls' intimacy, 
and in fact made no comment of it at all as Josephine, Susan 
and Emma hastily disentangled themselves from each other and 
shared in the task of preparing breakfast for Maisie and 
chatting about the day ahead.

When all four were finally seated on stools by the breakfast 
table, all naked except for Susan who had chosen to put 
some long socks on, Maisie smiled broadly. 

"It was ever so funny watching you all buggering each other," 
she chuckled. 

Josephine slightly whitened (it was after all she who'd made 
it happen) but her reaction was as nothing compared to Emma 
who visibly reddened from her brow to her breast and spluttered 
incoherently.

"Bububuggering?"

"That's what it's called isn't it?" Maisie continued, clearly 
enjoying the embarrassment she'd caused. "I've often seen it 
on the telly. And it's ever so clever that two of you were 
being buggered at the same time." She leaned over as if to 
confide with Josephine. "Emma'll never bugger me, 
although she often gets me to shove a dildo up her arse!"

"Maisie!" gasped Emma, who appeared outraged. "How 
can you talk about private things with other people like 
that?"

"It can't be that private if you're doing it with the others!" 
retorted Maisie. "And why can't I join in? Why is it you can 
have sex with Susan and Josephine, and I can't? I think it's 
really unfair!"

It was Josephine's time to blush now. She looked up at 
Maisie, incapable of saying a word, and looked for 
guidance at the even more embarrassed Emma, who was 
smiling in a kind of helpless and uncertain way. It was 
however Susan, impossible to embarrass on matters of sex 
or love, who rescued the situation. 

"I'm sure Emma's got no objection to you making love with 
either Josephine or me. And we'll be delighted to make love 
with you. But not now, as you've got to be at the studio to 
rehearse today, haven't you?"

"I suppose so," said the mollified Maisie. "But we will later 
won't we, Emma? Won't we?"

"Sorry. What will we do?"

"Make love. Have sex. All of us. Together. You promise. 
Don't you?"

"I suppose so," concurred a reluctant Emma.



 XVII

It wasn't often that Emma ever went out shopping. 
Normally she ordered her groceries or whatever on the 
internet. But it wasn't always possible to get everything 
you wanted that way, and so, despite her reluctance to 
wear any kind of clothing, she set off during her lunch 
time to visit the shopping mall. Others may not have 
been convinced that Emma was making a concession as she 
walked along wearing nothing but sandals and a long 
skirt hanging from her waist, but even this minimum 
of clothing had to be borrowed from one of the sex 
actresses in a production of updated Hans Christian 
Anderson fairy tales that Emma was working on.

She eventually found the bookshop she was looking for: 
one quite large enough to have everything she might like to 
buy or browse. There were several floors to the bookshop, 
a cafe on the top floor from which she'd once been evicted 
for immodesty and a creche for children near the entrance. 
Emma knew what she wanted though, and anxiously 
scanned the displayed index of book categories to find it. 
After some deliberation, she decided that Sex and 
Family Matters was probably the right section. Modern 
and Ancient Pornography, Sexual Art and 
Photography and Education were probably not right. 
Eventually she found the section she was looking for: very 
discreetly hidden in amidst Baby Care, Pregnancy 
and Teenage Angst. The classic book of child sex: The 
Intimate Family. 

The book was written by a Delia Cook, pictured naked on 
the back cover with her arms around two naked children - a 
boy of about twelve and a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen - 
who Emma supposed were her own. The pictures were 
taken full-frontal, in keeping with the whole spirit of the 
book that was, as its flyleaf promised, frank and explicit. It 
also had a very coy front cover giving no hint of what it 
might be discussing. Which of course was entirely to do 
with practical incest and child sexuality.

Emma looked through the frontispiece:



"These days, people are always asking for practical 
and unsensational advice with regard to leading a happy 
and harmonious intimate family life. My intention is to 
provide readers with just this. I will make no attempt to 
moralise or preach, but I have spoken to and taken 
advice from families, and indeed individuals, who have 
practiced intimate family relations and where appropriate 
I have broadcast their opinions and advice. Much of what 
I discuss has, naturally, been based on personal 
experience, for which I must thank my very 
understanding husband and my two loving children. 
Naturally some research has had to be done elsewhere, 
and again I have tried not to shirk in my duties."



Emma flicked through the pages of the book, which was a 
very expensive and weighty hardback. There was a mixture 
of line drawings and black-and-white photographs 
supporting the text, which made the book seem bizarrely 
academic. It was with a certain amount of apprehension 
that she took the book to the cash desk because its 
reputation was such that it was pretty much a 
confession to the world that she practised either incest 
or child sex. Or both.

However the middle-aged shop assistant who frowned so 
severely and unsympathetically at Emma as she wrapped 
the book up as if it was a bundle of dried faeces was less 
concerned about the book, of whose reputation she was 
thoroughly ignorant, than about Emma's toplessness. In fact, 
the eyes that Emma felt like cloaked daggers as she walked 
along were not at all aware that she'd even bought a book 
at all. Bookshops were still places where semi-nudity was 
generally confined to the bookshelf. 

Emma knew that there was no likelihood that she'd ever be 
able to read the book at home, where Maisie would be 
forever demanding her attention. And even if Maisie were 
not there she still felt sufficiently embarrassed about her 
relationship with her not to want to be seen reading a book 
on the subject of such intimacies by her flatmate and guests. 
She therefore walked to a nearby park and sat down to 
read it as discreetly as she could. She deliberately chose to 
lie down on her front on the warm summer grass, so that 
her breasts would attract rather fewer in the way of 
lascivious stares. How to Bring Intimacy into Your 
Family was the title of the next section she looked at. 
There was a line-drawing of a small boy's erect penis being 
stroked by the hands of a substantially older woman.



"When and How to start intimate relations in the family is a 
tricky question which I've often been asked. I think 
the honest answer to that question is to ask the 
questioner just why they are asking the question. I don't 
believe it is right to start an intimate relation with your 
nearest and dearest unless the entire reason for doing so 
is to do with wanting a fulfilling and close loving 
tenderness with them. And this is a view widely shared by 
those I have discussed the subject with. It is quite natural 
that as your children get older, you feel a stronger and 
deeper affection for them, and only natural that you 
should want to express this affection in the most intimate 
way possible. It must be remembered of course that your 
children (and indeed others in your family) may not feel 
that an intimate closeness should be quite as free and 
varied as you do.

"In particular, it is worth mentioning that once you 
have started on the path of intimate family relations, it 
cannot be reversed. My daughter, Jennifer, would not 
now      contemplate a relation with her father that did not 
include complete vaginal penetration - and already my 
son, Kevin, considers time spent with any of his family 
that does not involve fellatio or cunnilingus as wasted 
effort. But once started on this path, there is undoubtedly 
satisfaction and joy that brings a family closer together. 
For it is well said that the family that fucks together stays 
together."



After this preamble, there was a section which described 
techniques of introducing oneself and one's children to the 
joys of sex. Throughout there were constant warnings 
about going too far to begin with, because this was a subtle 
and progressive process and as much attention must be 
given to psychological preparedness as to the physical. As 
regards to the physical, the advice was generally to do with 
precautions for anal intercourse and, indeed, vaginal 
intercourse with the younger member of the family.



"In the heat of the moment it is always possible to 
forget the discomfort that your activities may cause to the 
younger or smaller participant. As a general rule, do not 
start any kind of penetrative sex until your partner actually 
requests  it (and don't worry, he or she will in due course: 
after seeing the fun other members of the family have!). 
Even then, judge your penetration appropriate not just to 
the age of the participant, but to their previous experience 
and their physical limitations. Even adult men and 
women may have very tight orifices, so don't think those 
of children are going to be very different. The advice I 
would tend to give is: Stick to the oral sex for as long as 
possible. The younger child can get considerable joy 
from having his or her sexual organs caressed by the 
tongue, and they will never tire of stimulating the older 
family member's organs - in particular the penis. A word 
of warning however - it is possible for a child to choke on 
a fully erect penis, so to avoid future distress in the 
family, gauge this behaviour appropriately."



Emma flicked through the pages until she came to a 
chapter entitled coyly Other Families and Yours. This 
chapter concerned itself with sex with other people's 
children and partners.



"It is always a delight to find other families that 
practice intimate relations as well as your own, and our 
family for one has always enjoyed inviting other families 
around for additional entertainment. Naturally, one has to 
be conscious of the very different mores different families 
may have. Martin, my son, was most distressed to find 
that the fourteen year old daughters of a colleague 
of mine from the infirmary did not practice either anal 
or vaginal intercourse. He protested that he and his 
sister had lost their virginity at a much earlier age. It 
was all that my husband and I could do to prevent him 
from taking the poor girl's maidenhead. It is after all the 
right and proper thing that their parents have the 
prerogative on such matters. (If, indeed they feel, as my 
husband and I do, that children's maidenheads properly 
belong to those who have borne them). The embarrassment 
has of course also been the other way, when the ten year 
old son of a neighbour tried to urinate in my daughter's 
mouth and wanted her to penetrate him with a dildo. I 
don't wish to proscribe such behaviour (it is 
perfectly acceptable if all concerned are in agreement) 
but our family has set its own limits."



Emma found all this very interesting, but she wasn't sure 
how especially relevant much of it was to her relationship 
with Maisie. She turned to the index to see what other 
sections there were. This proved to be promising. 
There was a section on Single Parents and the Single 
Friend, Group Sex and Children, The Growing Child and 
Techniques for Appropriate Physical Intimacy. Some of the 
illustrations showed various kinds of intimacy, in which 
the two children on the flyleaf and some others had 
penises and dildos inserted inside them, and others 
where the children were shown applying their tongues 
greedily to clitorises, anuses and erect penises. 
There was even a section concerning the swallowing of 
semen, with a photograph of the girl, Jennifer, splattered 
with semen from several penises of quite differently aged 
males. 

However, this was Emma's lunch break and she had to get 
back to the studio fairly promptly before filming was due to 
start. Emma closed the book and discreetly slipped it into 
her bag. Guiltily looking around her, she stood up and 
made her way back.

After work, Emma wandered into a nearby naturist cafe, 
where she knew she wouldn't be disturbed as she sat down 
with a pot of tea and continued reading Delia Cook's book. 
She wasn't too sure what she expected to achieve by this 
exercise. She wasn't at all sure that her relationship with 
Maisie really had a great deal in common with the typical 
relationships described in the book. There was no real 
family intimacy involved at all now that to all intents and 
purposes Maisie was no longer living with her mother but 
was more or less a permanent resident at Emma's flat.

She poured some milk into the cup until the tea went the 
right shade of brown and, this time, managed to avoid the 
usual puddle of milk on the saucer as it fell awkwardly out 
of its pot. She wasn't at all sure how Maisie felt about 
sharing a flat with older women, but the girl never 
complained and Emma was happy that she seemed to get 
on so well with Charlotte's lovers, Josephine and Susan. In 
fact she seemed to get on with them as if they were girls her 
own age.

Emma carefully flicked through the pages of her book - 
careful to obscure a view of the cover from any prying eyes 
(though most eyes would have concentrated on her naked 
body) until she came to a section about gradually 
introducing a child to sex.



"It would not be for me to advise this for all readers - 
indeed many may find it distasteful - but I recall one 
method that appeared to have sterling results where 
a young girl was weaned from infancy not only from the 
breast but from the penis. She soon came to associate 
the one with milk and the other with semen. The 
justification is that semen is a very nutritious, high protein 
addition to a child's diet. This may be so - but it gave her 
father and other males in the immediate family a great 
deal of pleasure which by all accounts was shared by the 
girl. It had the additional benefit that whereas the breasts 
soon lose the ability to provide milk, the penis remains 
productive for very much longer. When I met the girl she 
was almost in her teens, but was delighted to entertain us 
by demonstrating her skills at milking my husband's 
penis."



Emma found the subject of penises quite revolting, and 
flicked through the pages to see if there was very much on 
the subject of love between the younger girl and the older 
woman. There did seem to be a great deal about penises 
however.



"There is a certain amount of impatience in all families 
to introduce daughters and sons to the joys of anal sex. 
My own advice is that generally it is best that one take 
advantage of the smaller but still active organ of the 
younger male. In this way, novices of either sex to the 
delights of such intimacy can be gently enticed towards it 
not inconsiderable pleasures."



This section of the book was enlivened by a black-and-
white photograph of a boy's penis completely engulfed by 
an immature vagina, with the caption: Martin demonstrates 
his gentleness with Jennifer. 

Emma flicked through the pages while nonchalantly sipping 
from her cup. She frowned disapprovingly at the faint smell 
of tobacco wafting from the smoking tables at the far end 
of the cafe. Her eyes caught the heading Naturism and 
Clothes Policy. This surely would be of interest to her, 
Emma told herself, comfortably opening the pages open at 
a picture of Delia Cook's family sitting in an open field 
having a picnic and wearing no clothes.



"Different families have different attitudes towards what 
are the appropriate clothes for the intimate family to 
wear. My own preference (and one which I hold firmly) is 
that whether or not one is considering the intimate family 
or just one's own contentment there is nothing that 
matches a naturist disposition."



Emma warmed quite visibly towards Delia Cook at this 
piece of advice.



"However, there are those who for one reason or another 
believe that naturism by its very simplicity and 
naturalness doesn't truly express the nature of the 
intimate family as they themselves perceive it. And 
indeed, this may actually be the more honest view of 
those who don't feel completely comfortable in just their 
own nakedness. One family I know of brought up the two 
sons such that until early puberty they dressed and were 
made-up as girls. The boys had taken to it so thoroughly 
that one of them opted to remain a transvestite into his 
adult years. The reason for this preference was that both 
parents enjoyed the contrast of the boys' apparent and 
actual genders."



Emma wasn't at all happy to consider such perversions, 
and flicked randomly through the book.



"There comes a time when the intimate family has to 
fully face up to the fact that the children have a life 
and friends of their own. In particular, there is the 
necessity of being aware that many of their friends will 
have a certain amount of unease and distrust concerning 
intimate relations between those whose family bonds are 
so tight. It is therefore necessary for the parents and 
even the siblings, at least initially, to exclude themselves 
from any physical intimacy (even those which are not 
penetrative or do not involve bodily fluids) unless 
expressly invited to join in. It is to be hoped that in a well-
adjusted family that soon all the family will be able to 
share in the physical pleasures offered by the friends of 
one's children. In fact, some of my best intimate 
experiences have been in the company of my children 
and their school-friends once the stigma that some 
children attach to fucking Mummy has worn off."



The distinct impression inculcated on Emma from reading 
this book was how natural and normal child sex and incest 
seemed. Why, she wondered, didn't everyone try it? She 
looked around her at the naked bodies of other people in 
the cafe, and spotted a mother and father with two children. 
They were both girls about seven or eight years old. Emma 
tried to envisage the family making love together. She 
concentrated on the image of the father's penis rammed 
inside the younger girl's immature vagina. She really didn't 
find the image at all pleasant. She then thought of her own 
parents (whose naked bodies she'd so rarely seen) and the 
thought of them having any kind of sex with her at any age 
(and especially at the ages they were now) really 
didn't inspire any desire in her at all.

Emma turned to the final pages of the book where the 
publishers advertised the other books that they published in 
their series of sex manuals and treatises. At the head of the 
list was InterSpecies Lust, which promised to be a book 
which revealed the truth of sexual practices between people 
and animals, particularly in agricultural communities, and 
gave discreet advice on the practical problems that 
participants might confront. Another book was entitled 
Faecal Fantasy, and as its title suggested it dealt with the 
benefits and health hazards of a sex life that included 
defecation and urination as standard features. Some of 
the books seemed fairly tame in comparison: TransSexuality 
for Pecuniary Gain, Suicide and Sex, The Extended Sexual 
Partnership and Computer Stimulated Sex: Better than the Real 
Thing?

Emma didn't feel inclined to buy or even read any of 
these books - and having seen enough videos in her job 
concerned with sex of every kind she had a fairly precise 
knowledge of what it might be that she would be missing as 
a result. However it did force her to concentrate her mind 
on what it was that she considered to be desirable in a 
relationship. And the only image that sprang to her mind 
was of Maisie's naked body stretched out below aching for 
Emma's tender caresses.



 XVIII

It had been a long night, Josephine reflected as she opened 
her eyes and squinted at the shaft of light streaming in 
through the window and the specks of dust floating in it. A 
long night! After all the rehearsals going on beyond 
midnight and then the inevitable hour or so at a night-club 
with the rest of the cast, where they danced naked to the 
vibrations of loud music and the rainbow of visuals to lose 
the smell of sex from their bodies. At the earliest hours of 
the morning, when Josephine had recovered her clothes 
from the cloakroom and stood on the street waving down a 
taxi, it was inevitable that she would choose to stay the 
night with Charlotte. She'd crept in, using the keys that 
Charlotte had lent her, and eased herself gingerly under the 
sheets beside the entwined bodies of Susan and Charlotte. 
She could just about distinguish a pleased smile of 
satisfaction on Susan's face - who had presumably had sole 
possession of Charlotte that evening.

Josephine was rather surprised, however, to learn how late 
it was when she awoke and glanced at the clock which 
indicated just how late in the morning it was. It was past 
midday, and Josephine was in bed alone with a residual 
hangover from the drinks and sleeplessness of the previous 
day. Charlotte had gone off to work and Josephine wasn't 
at all sure where the others in the house were. Perhaps she 
was in the house alone, she thought. 

She pushed off the sheets and as she stood up glanced at 
the bed where there was still an indentation from where 
Susan and Charlotte had been sleeping. Josephine leant 
over and carefully removed a dark pubic hair lying there. 
She then wandered naked into the kitchen to prepare 
breakfast (or was it lunch?) and heard the murmur of 
conversation coming from the living room.

She popped her head through the door where she saw 
Susan and Maisie talking together. 

"I'm making tea," she announced. "Does anyone else 
want some?"

Susan looked startled as she'd been engrossed in her 
conversation and hadn't expected anyone else to be there, 
but she quickly assented and Josephine was able to return 
to the kitchen with a mission in hand. When she returned to 
the living room several minutes later with a pot of tea and 
some tea-cups she noticed for the first time that Susan was 
holding Maisie's hand in hers and looking directly into her 
eyes. This didn't mean a great deal to Josephine as Susan 
was an extremely tactile girl. She was wearing long woollen 
socks and a tee-shirt with the name of the Modern Dance 
Quartet emblazoned over an impressionist painting. As 
always she was the only one in the company wearing any 
clothes at all.

"Emma's at work, isn't she?" Josephine asked as she poured 
out the tea into the cups which she had already prepared 
with milk.

"Yes," Maisie answered, smiling brightly. "It's the first 
broadcast of a new Quiz Show she's commissioned. It's 
something to do with recognising your partners from only 
seeing their willies or fannies. I think the winners get to 
fuck one of a choice of studio guests."

"That's sounds nice. So there's no work for you?"

"Not today." Maisie leaned over and picked up her tea 
which was in her favourite Minnie Mouse mug. She looked 
directly at Josephine's chest and then commented abruptly. 
"I love your tits, Josephine."

Josephine's cup wobbled on the saucer that supported it. 
"My tits?" she wondered aloud.

"Yes, they're so nice and round. They're so much bigger 
than Emma's. She's got nice tits too. They're round with 
nice nipples. But yours are rounder and your nipples are 
sort of twice Emma's size. I wish I had tits like yours." She 
took a small but rounded nipple in her fingers and stroked it 
so that it became more firm. "But Mum's breasts aren't as 
big as Josephine's. And they're not even as nice as Emma's. 
What about your tits, Susan?"

"I've got ever such tiny breasts, Maisie."

"Why's that?" Maisie asked freeing her hand from Susan's 
hand and leaning over to stroke the outside of Susan's tee-
shirt where the breasts should be. "And why can't you show 
them like everyone else?"

"I've always wanted bigger breasts," smiled Susan in a 
matter-of-fact way, which surprised Josephine who'd never 
heard her express any feeling of inadequacy about her 
appearance. She tugged off her tee-shirt and revealed just 
how very small her breasts were. Maisie stretched out both 
her hands to feel Susan's breasts. 

"They're not much bigger than mine," Maisie commented. 

And this was true as Josephine knew. The nipples were 
larger and when erect it was obvious that Susan had the 
body of a woman - but the breasts supporting them barely 
raised a shadow of contour on her slim body. Maisie 
continued to run her fingers round and around Susan's 
nipples, and then with a determined lunge she pulled herself 
forward onto Susan's chest and started nibbling at them. 
Susan gave a slightly startled expression, but then 
contented herself with stroking Maisie's hair as she covered 
her chest with saliva and tiny tooth-marks.

Josephine was startled by this. She knew of Emma's sexual 
relations with Maisie, but spent very little time imagining 
them or really thinking about Maisie as a sexual creature 
at all. She watched slightly alarmed as Maisie's and 
Susan's intimacy gradually but progressively became more 
intense and Maisie's tongue wandered down to Susan's 
clitoris which she nibbled while her hands still caressed 
Susan's nipples. Susan was clearly enjoying this, giving tiny 
little gasps of pleasure as Maisie explored her body.

Susan placed her hands on Maisie's head and drew it 
upwards. "We must go to bed," she stated baldly. "It's more 
comfortable." 

Maisie nodded and stood up while Susan removed her 
socks.

"Only if Josephine comes too," suddenly negotiated Maisie 
looking towards Josephine who was sitting down in an 
armchair watching the proceedings with rather more 
fascination than most of the lovemaking she'd witnessed in 
the flat.

"Of course Josephine must come," smiled Susan, gliding 
over to her and causing her to abandon her cup of tea and 
direct her towards Emma's bedroom. Josephine felt 
curiously virginal as she found herself heading towards the 
bed where Susan and Maisie were sprawled and had 
recommenced feeling and cuddling each other.

Josephine knelt at the foot of the bed near where the 
two girls' feet were and gradually worked her tongue up 
from Maisie's beautifully formed feet, towards Maisie's bald 
and smooth vagina. She examined it carefully between her 
fingers while Susan's vagina engulfed almost all of Maisie's 
tiny hand. And as her fingers and tongue probed inside she 
could see signs in the slight reddening of it that might, she 
thought, provide evidence that as far as penetration was 
concerned Maisie was not exactly a virgin. 

As their lovemaking continued, Josephine came to explore 
all of Maisie's body with her hands and tongue. The small 
taut arse, with the tiny anus, the swelling mounds of 
breasts, the detailed maze of Maisie's ears, the tiny teeth 
around Maisie's ever-active tongue. She felt overwhelmed 
by the experience of making love to such a young girl. She 
didn't however attain the multiple orgasms that shook 
Susan's slim body or the less practised ones that burst 
from Maisie on occasion. But somehow this didn't matter 
at all.

"I'm home!" Josephine suddenly heard. Who could this be? 
She glanced at the Betty Boo alarm clock Maisie had by the 
side of the bed between a tiny promotional teddy-bear for 
Cooper's Lentils and a plastic model of a dinosaur. It was 
gone four o'clock. She, Maisie and Susan had been making 
love for at least three hours.

"Where is everyone?" shouted Emma's voice from the living 
room. "Where are you, Maisie?"

"We're here!" called back Maisie, her head between Susan's 
legs and her cunt just by Josephine's mouth. 

Emma pushed open the door. "So there you are darling!" 
she announced initially cheerfully, supporting a parcel in her 
arms as she stood silhouetted by the door. Then she must 
have gathered what was going on. "But Maisie ..."

"Guess what we've been doing all afternoon!" announced 
Maisie. "It's been ever so much fun!"

"You can't have! You shouldn't have!"

"But you promised, Emma! You did! You did!"

Emma suddenly ran out of the room. Josephine jumped up 
out of the bed to follow her. She found Emma's naked body 
hunched up in a chair in the living room, tears running 
down her face. Emma looked up as Josephine came in, 
conscious that she must still smell strongly of sex.

"Why! Why?" asked Emma.

Josephine silently reached her hand towards Emma's naked 
shoulder to try and comfort her. Emma threw it off 
instantly. "Don't touch me!" she said aggressively. She 
glared reproachfully at her would-be comforter. "I love her! 
I love her!" she repeated.

"It's not a question of love..." Josephine began, 
embarrassedly aware of the presence of Maisie and Susan in 
the room with their arms round each other. Emma also 
noticed this, and with a sudden hoarse gasp, she jumped up 
and ran out of the room. The next thing that Josephine 
heard was the front door slam as Emma hurried out of the 
flat and raced down the apartment corridors.

"But she promised..." weakly commented Maisie, tenderly 
stroking the bush of hair of Susan's crotch.



 XIX


Charlotte didn't know exactly what had happened, but all of 
a sudden her relations in her flat had altered and 
undoubtedly for the better. For some reason, Emma had 
started being a great deal more affectionate towards her 
and nowadays the two girls were more often sharing 
Emma's bed at night than enjoying any other arrangement. 
Charlotte noticed that Maisie had started sharing her 
bed with Susan and, when she was visiting, Josephine. 
Charlotte guessed (although she never witnessed it) that 
somehow Maisie's affections had transferred to Susan. 
Certainly, it was far less often that Emma and Maisie shared 
the bed together, and it was on those nights that Charlotte 
would get to sleep in her own bed.

Charlotte to a certain extent understood and appreciated 
why Susan's uncomplicated and straightforward personality 
was more comfortable for Maisie than Emma's. However, 
Emma couldn't accept that and still made great show that 
Maisie was the real love in her life despite the passionate 
nights she spent with Charlotte. Maisie took the curious 
attitude that it was Emma who was her girlfriend but that 
Susan was just best friend.

This may have suited Maisie: it certainly suited Charlotte 
who was pleased to have so much more of Emma's 
attention than she'd ever had before. And it didn't appear to 
concern Susan who still loved Charlotte with the same 
selfless and tireless devotion.

Despite spending most nights in Emma's arms, Charlotte 
would still be awoken by Susan who now prepared 
breakfast for both lovers and, of course, Maisie who 
sometimes accompanied her in the morning. Susan 
continued to wash and bathe Charlotte each morning and 
offered to extend the courtesy to Emma, who 
discourteously refused the invitation. She made a point of 
polishing Charlotte's shoes, washing and ironing her 
clothes and, often with Maisie clinging onto her, declaring 
her undying and unquestioning love for Charlotte. "It's only 
you I love. You are the only thing that makes my life 
worthwhile," she would say, taking every opportunity to 
kiss Charlotte's body. 

"If she loves you so much, why does she sleep with 
Maisie?" sniffed Emma. Charlotte didn't wish to counter, as 
she well knew, that it was always, and without 
exception, Maisie who decided who she would sleep or make 
love with. The evenings were often a very curious battle 
of wooing between Maisie's girlfriend and best friend, 
where both Susan and Emma for different reasons would 
try to entice Maisie to sleep with Emma. But almost 
always, Maisie would stay with the girl who gave so much 
passion and demanded so little analysis of her affection.

In the meantime, Charlotte benefited as Emma's lover, if a 
substitute lover for the child; even if, Emma made sexual 
demands of Charlotte of an intensity and a violence that she 
almost certainly never made of Maisie. 

Indeed they were of a nature that Josephine only rarely 
agreed to make love with Charlotte if Emma was there. "I 
can't do my job if I'm covered in bruises and scratches!" 
Josephine complained. She clearly preferred the company 
of Susan and Maisie, though she never discussed with 
Charlotte whether or not she also made love to the little 
girl. Charlotte's own body often carried bite-marks, bruises 
and scratches which Susan would uncomplainingly nurse 
and sometimes apply make-up to, prior to Charlotte going 
to work. Sometimes Susan would locate wounds that 
Charlotte never suspected, as when she found a trickle of 
blood from Charlotte's anus which Emma must have 
inflicted the previous night with that rubber truncheon she'd 
acquired from somewhere.

However much Susan tried to cover the evidence, 
Charlotte's love-life couldn't be hidden from her colleagues 
at work. This, as Charlotte soon appreciated, was a 
distinctive downside to working in a naturist environment 
in such close proximity of others. One of her colleagues, 
Malcolm, had clearly taken a very strong fancy to 
Charlotte, and she was quite pleased in a way that the 
evidence of her love-life appeared to preclude his 
attentions. He was a skinny young man whose desk was 
positioned across the office but generally faced her 
direction. He was always very solicitous towards her, but 
he didn't have quite the control of his penis he should have 
had. This was clearly another disadvantage of naturism 
that women didn't need to worry about. Malcolm's penis 
very rarely appeared totally erect, but erect enough for 
Charlotte to be sure of what he was thinking and his acute 
embarrassment served only to make it more apparent.

There were particular occasions when he had especial 
difficulties with his loins. The first was when Charlotte 
started shaving her vulva for Emma's benefit. This was later 
matched when Charlotte allowed it to grow long again. 
And recently, the more obvious bruises and scratches 
Charlotte had acquired in her lovemaking seemed to excite 
him. After a while Charlotte made a very determined effort 
whenever Malcolm was in the proximity to hide bruises on 
her thighs or around her cunt, or toothmarks on her neck 
or her nipples. Sometimes, like the time when Emma had 
somehow managed to blacken Charlotte's eye and has left 
a very obvious lovebite on her shoulder, this could not 
be obscured by documents she could carry or the shadow 
of her desk.

Charlotte had made a new friend at work, Becky, who 
introduced her to an aspect of life she'd never much 
suspected before. 

Charlotte had always been a middle class girl - and had 
really only ever known people like her from similarly 
middle class backgrounds. Becky, however, was a junior 
clerk whose social circle mostly comprised of car mechanics, 
supermarket checkout assistants, factory workers and 
restaurant staff. By her social peers she was considered at 
least as odd as Charlotte might be by hers, because not only 
was she a naturist, which was strange enough, but she 
worked in an office. Becky had clearly worked hard to get 
where she was and really had few ambitions to go further. 
She was sufficiently self-reliant to be a naturist when 
none of her friends were.

"Well, I'd been on holiday abroad," she explained. "And 
everyone was going round starkers. At first I though it was 
weird, but Stan, my boyfriend, insisted I go starkers too. So 
we both went round starkers. And I really liked it. So when 
I come back home I decided I'd go starkers as much as I 
could. Some of my mates and some of my family don't like 
it much. But I'm not a loony naturist. I'll put clothes on if 
people are going to be upset. But I just don't wear a thread 
most of the time."

"And that's why you're working here?" Charlotte prompted.

"Exactly," Becky confirmed. "There aren't that many office 
jobs you can do in the buff, are there?"

Becky's attitudes to life were reassuringly uncomplicated 
and unapologetic, which contrasted favourably with Emma 
who had to express an opinion on eating meat, wearing 
clothes or buying certain ideologically unsound products. 
On the other hand, Charlotte soon began to understand that 
in her own social group Becky's attitudes made her a bit 
of an outsider.

"We might be down the pub, and Stan'll talk about how I'm 
a nudist. How I go round in my birthday suit in the 
office all day. And all the lads'll laugh. And one of them's 
bound to say: 'But what's she like stark bollock naked?' And 
Stan'll say: 'There's no bollocks about it!' And they'll all 
laugh. But whatever they say, before you know it they'll 
have all my clothes off, and I'll be there going red while 
they poke and fiddle about with me. And this won't be 
in places where you're meant to be naked. And then my 
clothes'll go missing. And I've got to go home in the cold, 
with goose-pimples all over me, and everyone staring and 
laughing at me."

Becky was quite a short girl - barely five foot tall - slightly 
round and shapeless but not exactly fat with nipples which 
were almost of the same pinkness as the rest of her flesh 
and barely distinct from the rest of her breasts. Despite 
being a naturist, she'd somehow managed to avoid 
acquiring a tan, and remained a kind of pale pink, which 
contrasted with her mousy brown hair which she wore in a 
bob. Between her legs there was the smallest triangle of 
pubic hair obscuring what couldn't be a particular large 
vagina. Charlotte generally thought of Becky as being roly-
poly, but this was without her being particularly fat: it was 
just that her figure mostly suggested the curves of a 
feminine figure rather than outlined them. 

"After Stan and his mates go out for a drink or bowls or 
whatever, - it doesn't matter if I go with them or not - when 
they come back he's always demanding that I get them cups 
of coffee and get beer out of the fridge. And then they'll all 
either take turns at fucking me or do it all together. Stan's 
always saying that I give good fucks, and he always wants 
his mates to know it. Sometimes there'll be three or four 
fucking me at the same time. I don't know who's doing 
what. It's all pricks. Sometimes when they bring a girlfriend 
or two along they'll join in. They'll be fucked by the lads, 
and sometimes they get her to sort of play around with 
me."

Charlotte knew that Becky had an active sex-life, because 
Becky often carried the bruises and love-bites to prove it, 
but she'd assumed in her middle class way that this was 
more a testament to the strength of her relationship with 
Stan.

"Do you like girls making love to you?" Charlotte 
wondered.

"I know what you think!" laughed Becky. "Because you're 
a dyke! Sorry, lesbian! I'm not a dyke and neither are these 
girls dykes. It's just the lads think it's great fun to watch 
girls doing it together. And I suppose it's some fun, but I 
prefer a good fuck. Then you know you're getting the 
business. And if it's up the arse-hole and up the fanny at the 
same time then you really feel the earth move."

"And your boyfriend actually encourages his mates to make 
love to you?"

"Well, it's only fair. I mean often he's not back late himself. 
If he comes back at all. And that's when he's been to a 
mate's house. And he'll have been fucking his mate's wife or 
girlfriend. It's just what people do. I know you educated 
people don't share things like that much, but it's just what 
people I know do. And Stan'll tell me all about these girls 
he's fucked. 'She was fucking skinny' or 'She had fucking  
awful floppy breasts' or 'She smelt like something the cat 
brought in, and even worse after we'd all fucked her 
senseless'. None of the girls seem to have been much good - 
and I suppose that's why he always comes back home to 
me. If it's not just habit of course. But I know that what he 
says about these girls is what his mates say about me after 
they've been fucking me. 'She's not got much of a figure!' 
'She's got a tight cunt!' and of course they'll all say 'She's a 
fucking nudist! She's always fucking stark cunt naked!'"



 XX


As time went by, Emma saw less and less of Amelia and 
her secretary, Betty, although she'd been assured she 
could still expect a passionate welcome. Perhaps this was 
because her relationship with Maisie had become too full-
time for there to be any need for extra company. Perhaps it 
was because every time she went to meet Amelia she was 
always far too busy, if she was in the office at all, and only 
Betty, if she wasn't herself preoccupied, was ever available 
to see her. Indeed, her sexual sessions with Betty became 
less tender on each visit, and Emma suspected that Betty 
had lost interest in acting as a surrogate for her mistress. 
This was particularly so considering that Betty was not 
really very interested in women at all, and when the novelty 
of sex with Emma had worn off she became much more 
perfunctory in her love-making.

Now, however, as the relationship between Emma and Maisie 
was changing (and not that much to her liking), there was 
a new need or desire to meet Amelia. Much as Emma loved 
Charlotte, and very flattered by Charlotte's love for her, 
her best friend could never be quite the same as her 
darling Maisie. Charlotte was really only a friend 
rather than a lover. A close friend, that was true, but 
a friend nevertheless. The few nights she slept with Maisie 
no longer seemed to have the same meaning and passion it 
once had, although Maisie still insisted that Emma was her 
girlfriend and Susan was just a friend. In fact, Emma 
suspected that it was only because Susan actively 
encouraged Maisie to sleep with her, that they ever shared 
the bed together. And Emma also believed it was 
because of Susan's ridiculous unequalled passion for 
Charlotte.

Emma gingerly knocked on the door of Amelia's office and 
wandered in to see Betty daintily tapping away on the 
keyboard of her desktop computer. She'd taken off the 
jacket of her suit to reveal her satin lace bra underneath. 

"Oh hello, Emma!" she said sweetly. "Do you want to see 
Amelia?"

Indeed Emma did, but really only for company. She 
sometimes yearned for those legs that stretched out 
for so long. And she loved her memory of those voluptuous 
breasts that she'd not so fully enjoyed since their first night. 

"Amelia's free at the moment, so I'll take you in."  

This was almost more than Emma had hoped for. She'd got used 
to Betty, successfully hiding her reluctance, offering her 
body in Amelia's stead. Betty took Emma into Amelia's 
study where she was lying on her back on a divan reading a 
manuscript wearing only her stockings. When she saw 
Emma, she jumped up with a spring and a smile and kissed 
Emma full on the mouth. 

"Come in! Come in!" she said, leading Emma towards the 
divan. "And you, Betty, come over here!" 

This was definitely more than Emma had hoped, as Amelia 
pushed Emma flat out on the divan and starting licking her 
body with her tongue. She directed her mouth towards 
Emma's vulva and Emma felt the warm wetness of saliva 
entangle with her pubic hair. "Don't neglect me, Betty!" 
ordered Amelia, at whose prompting her secretary undid 
her bra to reveal her unaroused nipples and moved out of 
sight of Emma in the vicinity of Amelia's rear. Emma 
caught a glimpse of Betty's face as it appeared briefly 
between Amelia's legs and then she saw her finger 
stimulating her mistress's clitoris. Emma ran her 
fingers through Amelia's mess of hair as her head bobbed 
up and down.

"I need more than this!" complained Amelia, sitting up on 
her knees causing Betty to slide away.

"Do you want one of these?" asked Betty producing a 
dildo.

"No! Not good enough! Call Frank in!"

Betty then stood up and left, putting her jacket over her 
naked breasts as she went out. Amelia continued exploring 
Emma's vagina and anus, putting fingers deep inside both 
orifices, so that Emma could feel them pinch together inside 
her. She felt wonderfully moist and moaned with 
excitement. She then felt another object besides fingers 
inside her, which she was sure was just a dildo. But 
she looked up to see that a naked man's erect penis had 
taken advantage of her nakedness and had thrust straight 
inside her vagina.

"Stop! Stop!" cried Emma pushing him off and sliding off 
the divan onto the floor. "I don't want one of those things 
inside me!" 

She picked herself up and stood to one side as Amelia, 
Betty and this naked man, presumably called Frank, stared 
at her in apparent astonishment.

"I thought you'd be delighted, Emma dearest!" said 
Amelia soothingly.

"No! Never!" cried Emma in alarm.

"But it's the real thing! Not a dildo! And I know you've 
had plenty of those inside you!"

"I just don't like them!" Emma sniffed.

"Well, I hope you won't mind as Betty and I take advantage 
of Frank's charms. He's a top notch sex artist you know!"

Emma just didn't want to know, but out of politeness she 
sat on a chair while Frank made love to both Amelia and 
Betty. He never seemed to tire. Nor did he ever come 
despite how many orgasms he'd apparently engineered in 
the two women. Emma had never seen Betty express so 
much passion. She had stripped off all her clothes and 
offered her anus as freely as her vagina. Finally, Frank 
reached a certain point and withdrew his penis from deep 
inside Betty's arse. It was a long penis: not the longest Emma had ever seen on set, but 
longer and thicker than the average. It was shining with 
moisture, with the veins pulsing with engorgement.

"He's about to come!" announced Amelia. "How about on 
you, Emma?"

"What did you say?" wondered Emma, as she stared at 
Frank's penis.

"Go on, Frank!" ordered Amelia. "Show Emma what no 
dildo can do!"

Frank walked over to Emma holding his penis in a strange 
way to restrain his excitement, and then with no warning, 
from more than a yard away, he ejaculated and his semen 
splattered onto Emma's still sweaty breasts. Emma looked 
down on the viscous liquid with a mixture of disgust and 
curiosity.

"And there's more, Emma! More!" announced Amelia, 
walking towards Emma and Frank. "Touch it! Go on! 
Touch it!"

Emma felt compelled to obey, and gingerly put a finger on 
Frank's penis which immediately jerked with mechanical 
excitement.

"Put your hand right round it!" 

Emma obeyed and felt the hot warmth and pulsing energy 
of Frank's prick. And then all of a sudden it erupted with a 
further spurt of semen which spurted onto Emma's wrists 
and hands. It felt very warm and very very sticky.

"See what you've been missing!" laughed Amelia, in a way 
that Emma really didn't believe was particularly kind or 
sympathetic.



 XXI


Occasionally, Emma and Charlotte would meet together 
after work at a naturist cafe a short walk from their flat. It 
was not a particularly large cafe, and Charlotte often found 
it too cool for wearing no clothes, but it was a very 
intimate place and Charlotte enjoyed sitting with Emma just 
holding her hands and sometimes gazing into her beautiful 
eyes. Sometimes, the clientele were entertained by a 
musician who would sit naked on a chair playing a guitar 
and singing. Sometimes he might be accompanied by a 
woman who stood naked beside him and sang along 
with him. More usually, however, the only entertainment 
was a panel of televisions tuned into a naturist television 
station and that was the case tonight. The sound was 
usually turned down so there were only the visuals to 
be enjoyed, and these were not generally informative in the 
case of soap operas or comedies. 

Emma was so much sadder these days. Charlotte knew 
why, but she still hoped she would forget her obsession 
with Maisie and focus her love more on the one who was 
sitting next to her and who would do anything (whatever it 
might be) for her. Of course, she hoped that Emma 
wouldn't mind sharing her with Josephine, but after all she'd 
become accustomed to sharing Emma with so many others! 
Emma, however, hardly ever touched on the subject. For 
her, there was nothing to discuss with Charlotte about 
personal relationships. 

The two women drank only a little wine before making their 
way home to the flat, with Charlotte thinking only of making 
love to Emma and holding her naked body as close to her 
own as she could and still manage to walk together. When 
they got to their flat and had opened the door, Emma no 
longer called out for Maisie as she used to do, as it would 
only remind her that she was probably at that moment 
enjoying close intimacy with Susan, and possibly Josephine. 
They wandered into the living room where the stereo was 
broadcasting some of the saccharine pop music that Maisie 
enjoyed but there was no one there listening.

"They're probably all in your bed again," sniffed Emma. 
Charlotte smiled. She'd have Emma to herself tonight.

But when she opened her bedroom door, she saw no sign of 
any people or any of the disarray of sheets that 
accompanied lovemaking. However, she heard voices 
coming from Emma's bedroom. That was most unusual. 
Susan and Maisie usually never made love in Emma's bed 
unless Emma was there. 

Charlotte wandered over to Emma's room where Josephine, 
Maisie and Susan were spread out naked together on the 
bed. Emma sat down on an armchair by the side of the bed. 
Maisie was talking quite earnestly to Emma and her lover 
was looking distinctly uncomfortable. 

"It's silly. Josephine loves Charlotte. Charlotte loves 
you and Josephine. Susan loves Charlotte, but Charlotte 
isn't so bothered. You love me. And I love you. But I 
love Susan too. It's too complicated and it's very 
upsetting." Maisie put her arm round Susan who inclined 
her head onto Maisie's shoulder. "So Susan said to me 
that she didn't like how sad you were getting and that 
she'd rather not sleep with me, so that I could sleep 
with you every night like we used to. But Josephine 
said that Charlotte won't like that because she 
likes sleeping with you. Isn't that so Charlotte?"

Charlotte nodded. This was peculiar perspicacity coming 
from such a young child. 

"So what are you saying, Maisie?" asked Emma.

"Well, I want to make love to everyone," announced 
Maisie. "I want to make love with Susan, my best friend. I 
want to make love to you. I want to make love with 
Josephine. And I'd like to make love to Charlotte, who I've 
never made love to."

"So," continued Josephine, "Susan and Maisie thought  
there ought to be less jealousy and envy and that everyone 
should sleep with everyone else every night. Then if I want 
to have sex with Charlotte I can. And if you want to make 
love with Maisie you can. And if Susan wants to make love 
to both Maisie and Charlotte then she can. And the way to 
do that is to put both the beds together to make one big 
bed."

"How are we going to do that?" wondered Emma.

"We simply move Charlotte's bed in here, and move some 
of your furniture into her bedroom and then everything's 
fine," announced Maisie triumphantly.

There was a lot more discussion on the various aspects of 
such a new arrangement, but it was difficult to argue with 
its essential fairness so before long the girls started moving 
beds and furniture around the flat. After a while, the 
exhausted girls were lying together on a pair of double-beds 
that was nearly twelve feet across, and crammed out all 
remaining space in Emma's bedroom. Maisie seemed 
particularly tired as she laid her head down on Emma's lap 
while Emma stroked her hair. Susan and Josephine sat by 
Charlotte who lay on her back looking at the light-shade 
and considered the implications of the new arrangement. 
The aspect which most concerned her was that although 
everyone had made love with everyone else, she had not in 
fact ever made love to Maisie. She'd always thought of 
child sex as a perversion, but now she'd found herself in 
effect agreeing to it. Was she wise to have done so?

She felt a third body creep up between her legs and apply a 
tongue to her vulva. Charlotte lifted her head up to see who 
it was, half-expecting to see that it was Maisie, and 
consequently not being so surprised when she found out 
that it was. Maisie had clearly been thinking the same thing, 
and now wanted to find out what Charlotte's body tasted like. 
She put her tongue deep inside Charlotte's vagina and then 
traced it around her clitoris. Charlotte lifted herself up 
to have a look at what the child was doing, while Susan 
and Josephine discreetly detached themselves from her 
and climbed over the mattresses towards Emma who was now 
sitting alone.

Maisie swivelled her body around with Charlotte beneath 
her, such that Charlotte's mouth was on Maisie's crotch. 
She'd never looked so closely at a child's crotch before. It 
was undeniably beautiful. She leant forwards to nuzzle it 
with her nose, but she wasn't sufficiently supple to apply 
any more of her face to it. So, she contented herself with 
stroking it with her fingers and exploring its contours. Just 
as she was beginning to feel comfortable with this, she was 
joined by Emma who, in the spirit of sharing, pulled her 
face up to Charlotte's and applied her tongue to Maisie'
s anus and the base of her vagina.

And then all became lost in a mass of bodies as all five girls 
bundled in. At any one time, Charlotte might be addressing 
Susan's flat breasts or Josephine's fuller ones.  She'd 
be licking Maisie's crotch or Emma's much hairier one. And 
at some stage she felt the familiar sensation of a large 
object entering her vagina. She looked round to see who 
it was, and it was in fact Maisie who was dwarfed by the 
dimensions of the dildo she had strapped around her waist 
and thrust in and out of Charlotte's cunt. Maisie had 
clearly had some practice in this, but was by no means the 
expert that Susan was when it was her time to ply the dildo 
into her.

The evening continued as a melee of bodies, which 
eventually calmed down and the five girls lined themselves 
up beneath the sheets. Charlotte had Susan on one side 
and Maisie on the other. Then beyond Maisie were Emma and 
Josephine locked together in an embrace with Josephine 
just above Emma complaining about the roughness with 
which Emma had been punishing her body.

Charlotte luxuriated in the warmth of the two bodies on 
either side of her, and contemplated whether this 
arrangement would, in any way, make everyone happier. 
It seemed to make Maisie and Susan happier, but Charlotte 
knew that Emma and she were quite different people. She 
felt that part of the joy of love was the very 
exclusivity this new arrangement was so actively 
denying.

"It's alright for you, Charlotte, because you're a lesbian," 
Maisie was saying a few days later. She was sitting naked 
on the rug in front of the television, facing Emma, Charlotte 
and Susan who were sitting with their arms round each 
other on the sofa. "And it's alright for you, Emma, because 
you don't like men. And you get it all the time in your job, 
Susan. But I just don't get anything!"

"I still don't see what you want to make love to a boy for," 
continued Emma, who was visibly distressed at the idea of 
her Maisie being fucked by anything so vulgar. "You've got 
the three of us: and Josephine when she's here. We make 
love almost every night. Why do you want more?"

"Because it's natural. Because it's what girls are meant to 
do. Because it's what all my friends do. It's not fair! Just 
because you don't like it, you think I shouldn't have it. 
I want to be fucked properly. I'm still a virgin, and none 
of my friends at school are."

"That's only what they say, Maisie dear," said Susan 
reassuringly. "Girls always boast about how much sex 
they've had. You know, I wasn't fucked until I was nearly 
fifteen years old. But I used to tell everyone I'd been 
fucking. And I didn't enjoy it at all at first."

"I don't care!" said Maisie adamantly. "I want a proper 
fuck. And I want it now!"

"But why do you want it with Oliver?" wondered Emma, 
despairingly. "Of all the boys you could've chosen, why 
him?" 

Oliver was the boy that Maisie was adamant she wanted to 
take her virginity. He was a boy about sixteen, and 
therefore old enough to appear on the screen making love. 
However, he didn't confine his lovemaking to the studio set, 
where he was undoubtedly very good at his craft. He could 
often be found in the company of other women and girls 
around the television studios, his naked buttocks moving 
rhythmically up and down as he fucked and fucked. 

Even Emma wondered where he got his enthusiasm for. 
And he had no sense of privacy. It didn't matter who was 
around, he would choose a girl and before long the two 
were fucking together. Even in front of his mother, 
who sometimes came to the studios, he'd choose an actress 
or any other girl and fuck her. He showed no 
discrimination whatsoever. He would choose girls and 
boys, women and men, of almost any appearance and any 
age. Was this the boy, Emma asked herself, with whom 
she'd entrust her darling Maisie's virginity? What would 
Dorothy think, if she heard that her sweetest daughter, who 
she so rarely saw nowadays, was going to sacrifice herself 
to Oliver's metronomic thrusts?

However, Maisie was adamant, so Emma found herself 
consigned to the distasteful task of approaching Oliver and 
inviting him to visit Maisie and her at the flat. She found 
him lying naked with another boy with their arms around 
each other and a positive stench of post-coitus just outside 
the studio set of a Sex Science Fiction series. She had 
nothing to do with this production which seemed to be 
nothing more than an excuse for large breasted women in 
leather thigh-length boots to indulge in sex with men 
dressed in monster costumes. She supposed that Oliver's 
role might be to act as one of the monsters, but she didn't 
really care enough to find out.

Inevitably, when Oliver found himself addressed by Emma 
he immediately assumed that she was trying to solicit sex 
with him. Emma sternly put him off the idea and averted 
her gaze from his penis which had instantly sprung to full 
erectness.

Oliver was surprised to be told that a girl he didn't really 
know was so keen on him. He'd seen her on the set of the 
soap opera and he'd seen her in Emma's company, but he'd 
never really thought more about her than that. He knew 
that she was too young to've been filmed in any act which 
was of an overtly sexual nature, and he may have guessed 
from her general shyness with boys that she'd not even had 
televisual sex for foreign consumption.

Emma had to escort Oliver to the flat, who wore a pair of 
lycra shorts and a cycling jersey, and who seemed to feel 
that Emma's habitual nudity was some sort of an invitation 
for sex games. "Don't!" reprimanded Emma slapping his 
hand off her thigh. She also found his conversation 
terminally dull: concentrating as it did mostly on sex, 
sport and violent films. So it was with great relief that 
Emma was able to leave Oliver in the company of Susan 
and Maisie while she prepared dinner for everyone in the 
kitchen.

Charlotte and Josephine were out together at the cinema, 
so Emma felt utterly abandoned in the flat with the 
company of the other three. She wasn't too surprised to see 
Oliver fucking Susan in the living room with Maisie 
watching when she popped her head in to see if they would 
like to start drinking some wine while waiting. "It doesn't 
take that slut five minutes..." Emma found herself thinking 
uncharitably as she returned to the kitchen.

Emma didn't enjoy the dinner with them either, as she sat 
watching Oliver regale Maisie with his horribly crude jokes 
and unsubtle sex stories; and observed Maisie lapping all 
this with apparent veneration. But she felt obliged to stay 
with the company to be witness to Maisie losing her 
virginity.

The idea was that after dinner, Emma would sit near Maisie 
to comfort her while Susan took the camcorder and 
videoed Oliver and Maisie fucking together. This was so 
that this important moment in Maisie's life would be 
recorded for posterity. However, it was with great difficulty 
that Emma and Susan dissuaded the two younger ones from 
leaving half-way through the dinner to just get on with it. It 
was distressing for Emma to see the food she'd prepared and 
planned so meticulously being wolfed down with such little 
regard. And the wine she'd spent hours choosing was treated 
with absolutely no respect.

However, the real ordeal was to come. Susan trained the 
camcorder at Oliver and Maisie who lay on the large 
double-beds in Emma's room with Maisie to one side of 
Oliver, while Emma sat on the other bed looking at Maisie's 
eager look of anticipation with alarm. And then it began, 
while the camcorder whirred on with Susan moving around to 
focus on what seemed to her, with the experienced eye of 
the sex movie actress, the most important action at any 
one time. The foreplay really took very little time at all. 
Then Oliver was straight into Maisie's vagina and pumped 
away at her unromantically. Emma had to sit back and bite 
her lower lip to restrain herself from pulling the two 
youngsters apart.

In the hour or so of lovemaking that Susan recorded (and 
played back the following day in front of Josephine and 
Charlotte), Oliver went through the whole range of sex 
movie cliches. What was worse was that Maisie was 
enjoying it with incredible and noisy abandon. There was 
the missionary position. Then Maisie on top of Oliver. Then 
Maisie sucking Oliver's penis, while he tongued her vagina. 
Then finally there was the inevitable anal intercourse, which 
Emma had hoped Oliver would restrain himself from. But 
there was no shame, and Maisie was keen, so Oliver pushed 
himself as deep into the not particularly large anus as he 
could, which process clearly inflicted some pain on Maisie. 
And that was that. Then Oliver had to be driven home by 
Emma back to his mother and his home in the outer 
suburbs.

"Did you enjoy all that?" wondered Charlotte incredulously 
as the video disintegrated into a mess of unintelligible 
squiggles.

"It was great!" said Maisie enthusiastically. "I'm not a virgin 
any more. Not back nor front."

"And are you seeing this chap - Oliver - again?" Josephine 
queried amiably.

"Well, I'll be seeing him," Maisie admitted. "And I might 
fuck with him. But it's not going to be serious."

"Why's that?" wondered Susan.

"Because," said Maisie with the ingenuous na‹vet‚ of a 
child, "I'm not in love with him. We might make love. But 
that's all. It's you and Emma I'm in love with."

"And besides he's ever so vulgar!" chipped in Emma 
cheerfully.

"No," reflected Maisie. "I'm sure he's not that. He was ever 
so interesting to talk to. And he's seen What the 
Dickens! live. I'd love to do that. Their concerts always 
sell out really quickly."



 XXII


Harriett's travels around the world through her work meant 
she knew hardly at all how life was at home at the flat. 
The long and detailed letters she received from Emma and 
less often from Charlotte were always several weeks late 
and usually forwarded from the last location she'd worked 
at. For instance, she might send a postcard home from her 
current location which could be Kabul or Phnom Penh, and 
then receive a letter from Emma which might have been 
posted to her last or her last but one location (which might 
be Banjul or San Salvador). Neither Emma's nor Charlotte's 
letters were particularly detailed on the subject of their 
love-lives. Indeed, this seemed to be the one area about 
which they were both most reticent in their correspondence, 
but this didn't trouble Harriett. Nor did it in any way 
dissuade her from filling most of her letters with detailed 
accounts of the sex she'd had with men and women in the 
course of her travels.

She had developed a strong relationship, including 
frequent sex, with the director of the Sex Abroad series 
she was working on. Isabel had started her career as a sex 
actress and as a result had once opted to have her breasts 
surgically enhanced. Apparently they had been of good 
dimensions before, but her chest now consisted of nearly 
fifty inches of very firm breast on a body otherwise of quite 
slender proportions. Other parts of her body had also been 
surgically enhanced, but so expert were the surgeons that 
for all Harriett's exploration of Isabel's body she couldn't be 
sure which parts they might have been. She had not really 
made her fortune as a sex actress, as apparently she was not 
a natural when it came to frequent and indiscriminate 
fucking; but she had kept her career within the world of sex 
entertainment and was now a director of many television 
productions. She was in her mid-thirties, but certainly didn't 
look particularly old nor were her breasts showing any sign 
of sagging. However, they were sufficiently large to oblige 
her to keep them uncovered most of the time, while 
directing the set or in her leisure time, because of the 
discomfort that most clothes caused them. She was not a 
naturist though, unlike several of the others involved in the 
production of the series. She almost always wore a 
skirt, shorts or trousers; and frequently sun-glasses and a 
straw hat when it was particularly warm.

The Sex Abroad series was one of a number of 
productions Isabel and Harriett worked on together as they 
travelled with the production crew from country to country. 
Both enjoyed working together, just as they enjoyed 
making love together (although both would deny any claim 
to being lovers or of being lesbian). They enjoyed staying at 
expensive hotels, usually in the same suite, and planning the 
logistics of each production. This almost always involved 
Harriett making love to a native from whichever country 
they were in. This was sometimes a famous personality, 
but more often just a sexually fit representative of the 
population. Usually this consisted of no more than 
heterosexual coupling, but in some locations it was 
necessary to show more explicitly the peculiar customs of 
that particular country. In Korea where there was a cult of 
boys being surgically altered to take on the 
physical appearance of women, it was necessary for 
Harriett to make love to a few of these transsexuals. She 
most enjoyed those whose penises were still fully 
functioning. In Tajikistan, it was necessary to have group 
sex with several women. In Somalia, Harriett enjoyed sex 
with children of about nine and ten of both sexes, - but this 
would probably not be screened on Semen South West.

When Harriett and Isabel were not working on the actual 
filming of these various sex acts, the two of them would 
plan together what was required for the programmes. 
Often, Harriett would  have sex with the designated 
partners to determine the best angle for the performance. 
Isabel would watch, making suggestions and very 
occasionally participating, particularly when the sex star 
was a well-endowed man. Sometimes the two of them 
would practice together, with Isabel playing the role of the 
other partner to establish the optimum erotic presentation 
of the scene. Harriett also kept herself fit by regular work-
outs at the gym in the various hotels they stayed at, or by 
jogging around the city. In some places naturism was 
obligatory, (such as El Jedida in Morocco, Nerja in Spain 
or Darwin in South Africa), which made her jogs more 
comfortable, but meant that Isabel couldn't participate as 
her breasts bounced around too much. Harriett kept her 
body as slim and trim as she could: something Isabel  
mostly achieved by drugs or surgery.

Sometimes while shooting a scene, Isabel felt obliged, 
as the director, to intervene to enhance 
Harriett's performance. She would wade into the mass of 
bodies in the physically demanding positions that were 
required and add lubricant to Harriett's anus or position her 
clitoris into a better view for the camera. This was not a 
role a director was ever really required to do (there were 
members of staff whose role was specifically to help in 
stimulating the sexual performance of the film stars) but 
she felt that the closeness of her relationship with Harriett 
made this intervention more natural and sensible.

It was no secret to other members of the film crew that 
Harriett and Isabel had a close and loving relationship and 
the two women made no effort to obscure it from them. 
Isabel frequently grabbed Harriett by the vagina while on 
the set to feel how sexually active she was feeling. On 
occasion, the two women would hold each other close to 
one another with Isabel's large naked breasts wholly 
obscuring Harriett's much smaller, trim ones, and indulge in 
kissing for several minutes at a time. Sometimes on set, 
Isabel chose to join in the action and have herself fucked by 
the man who was fucking Harriett. Occasionally, this was 
discreetly incorporated into the final cut. On the whole, 
however, the two kept their relationship on a professional 
level on the set, and didn't indulge (as some directors and 
their principal stars are known to do) in a series of 
programmes featuring the two of them, and their various 
guests, indulging in on-screen sex. 

Some of the film-crew envied Harriett's closeness to Isabel. 
It was undoubtedly a boost to her career, and one which 
could lead to her becoming a director herself. No one could 
deny that Harriett worked hard on her performance, and 
Harriett's own professed ambition was to produce her own 
Sexual Fitness videos which would pass on techniques and 
practice sessions that she used to keep herself at the peak 
of her sexual performance. The thought had occurred to 
some that she could become a professional in sex sport 
events, but even Harriett didn't want to become that closely 
tied to competitive sex.

Harriett made great efforts with the film crew to dispel 
their feelings that she was somehow too distant for the likes 
of them. She made a point of having sex with all the men 
and women on the set; sometimes with Isabel, despite her 
director's disparagement of such close ties. "It doesn't do to 
have sex too often with amateurs!" Isabel said, 
characterising herself as a professional. Harriett understood 
what Isabel meant: most of the cast were simply incapable 
of bringing her to a satisfactory orgasm and often incapable 
of restraining their own sexual relief however well Harriett 
used her skills to control them. However, Harriett soon 
became aware that the film crew were generally happier not 
to have to concern themselves with comparing themselves 
with a professional and preferred the less skilful sex they 
had with each other.

Harriett and Isabel enjoyed behaving as tourists in the 
exotic places they stayed, happy in the knowledge that 
nobody would recognise them as they might at home. In 
some cities of stricter sexual ethics, such as St Petersburg, 
Perth or Salt Lake City, their appearance, and particularly 
that of Isabel's large naked breasts would attract stares and 
occasionally even comment. In other places of freer sexual 
ethics such as Goa, Bali or Florida, they almost felt 
conservative in bothering to wear clothes at all. Or in not 
having sex in the street like so many other tourists. But 
Isabel felt that it was necessary as ambassadors of 
Semen South West to retain some respect for the natives of 
the country they were visiting.



 XXIII


Near Emma's and Charlotte's flat was a news agent where 
the girls and their friends often went to buy newspapers, 
milk, sweets and food, as it was one of these news agents 
that stayed open long after the supermarkets closed. It 
was a fairly modest shop, with a standard selection of 
alcoholic products and the full range of magazines, 
cigarettes and sweets that one would expect. The owners 
were an Asian family who invested all their time and 
money into the enterprise and in which all members of 
the family were meant to contribute some effort. Amna 
was the eldest girl in the family and now she had 
finished her schooling with fairly mediocre 
qualifications, she had no excuse for not helping out in the 
shop in the evenings or other times for the not particularly 
handsome remuneration she received for the effort.

Amna's families were Muslims, but not especially strict 
ones. She wasn't require to cover her long thick black hair, 
and her parents didn't object too strongly to the blue jeans 
she wore which always seemed rather too tight on the hips 
constrained inside. Her fondness for tight jeans often 
caused her grief as Amna was especially hirsute, not just in 
the form of the black hairs along her arms and legs which 
were nearly hidden against the darkness of her Bengali skin, 
but in the thick pubic hair which spread from her anus to 
nearly her navel. Her white knickers were almost swamped 
by the thick luxuriance of it. Fortunately, her full 
round breasts didn't share her general hairiness, but it 
was they that attracted most comment from her parents as 
she continued to grow out of her previous bras and blouses. 
Her clothes struggled to contain them. Frequently she was 
advised to put on a loose sweater or pullover to obscure 
them.

The young girl was fascinated by Emma's friends' visits to 
the shop. Emma herself didn't visit so often herself, but her 
presence was always the most memorable as she wore so 
little in the way of clothes: usually nothing at all to hide her 
breasts and sometimes nothing to hide anything else. And 
whatever she wore always seemed like it had been thrown 
on in a hurry and often fit her extremely poorly. Although 
Amna looked forward to Emma's visits with particular 
interest (as she was the one who promised most in terms of 
potential thrills), it was Emma's flatmates whose company 
Amna enjoyed most. Emma was never very chatty and always 
seemed to have her mind somewhere else. 

Charlotte and Josephine were always very civil, and often 
exchanged opinions on the weather. The two girls paid her 
more attention than most visitors and Josephine was 
especially tactile. She'd often be holding Charlotte's hand 
and on one memorable occasion Amna watched the two of 
them lost in a passionate embrace. Their tongues were deep 
in each other's mouth and they only stopped when another 
customer entered the shop. There was also a little girl, 
Maisie, who wore almost as few clothes as Emma and 
smiled at Amna in a cheeky direct manner which often 
disturbed her. She would often be holding the hands of 
whoever was accompanying her to the shop (she never 
came by herself) and often gave her companion a kiss on 
whichever part of the body or face that was most easily 
available. Maisie was often accompanied by Emma who on 
these occasions had all her attention focused on the 
little girl and showed no ability in preventing her consort 
spoil herself on whatever comics or sweets the girl 
demanded.

The customer who Amna looked forward to the most, 
however, was Susan who, right from the first time she came 
in to the shop, established her presence in an easy relaxed 
way. She chatted with Amna with familiarity as she 
discussed what wine to buy, and with no embarrassment 
whatsoever spoke of her work in sex cinema and the parts 
she played.

"Are all your friends in sex cinema too?" wondered Amna, 
who felt somewhat both shocked and titillated by the idea. 
Her image of sex cinema had been taken from the 
magazines on the top shelf of the magazine rack which 
showed men and women having sex with each other in 
great explicit detail, or the listings she read of sex 
television or sex movies.

"My friends?" Susan queried.

"The other girls you come into the shop with," Amna 
explained, feeling a bit embarrassed at revealing her interest 
in her customers' affairs.

"Goodness no!" Susan said. "I'm the only one in sex 
cinema. Although all of us except Charlotte work in the sex 
industry to a certain extent."

"It must be a strange kind of job," Amna commented visibly 
envious of the more exciting life led away from the counter 
where she would swivel around on her chair near the till 
seeing nothing more of life than customers and their money. 
The most exciting aspect of her life was that she was able 
to unzip her jeans and pull them down her thighs to ease the 
pressure her hips and stomach exerted on her waist aware 
that none of the customers would notice a thing.

"Is it something that you're interested in doing yourself?" 
Susan wondered sympathetically.

Amna shook her head nervously. "I've never thought of it. 
It just seems something other people do. I don't know if 
I could..."

"Oh! It's simple!" smiled Susan. "You really don't need to 
be particularly skilled at acting or anything. All you've got 
to do is like sex. I mean, you enjoy fucking don't you?"

"Well, of course!" laughed Amna who'd never had any 
sexual encounter with anyone. She'd never really 
considered it and she always thought it was one of those 
things that only became possible when one left the 
protective embrace of the family. On the other hand, the 
idea clearly excited her as testified by the warm heat rising 
from between her legs as she discussed the matter.

"So," continued Susan, "It's not a problem. A girl like you - 
with your kind of body and appearance - shouldn't have any 
difficulty getting into sex cinema. Is it something you want 
to take up? If it is, I'm sure I could help."

"Could you?" asked Amna. Then realising that sounded a 
bit like a request, she corrected herself. "You could?"

"Well, there's an audition for parts for Asian girls coming 
up soon, which I'll be going to. Now, I don't know what it 
means by Asian. Do they mean Indian, Slavic, Oriental or 
Arabic? I don't know! They might mean the lot. I don't 
know when the audition's coming up, but if you like I'll 
keep you informed and we could go together."

"Well, that sounds interesting," said Amna curiously excited 
by the idea. 

"In that case, I'll keep in touch," Susan announced, leaning 
over the counter and kissing Amna tenderly on the lips. She 
then pushed the door out of the shop in her long white tee-
shirt loosely belted around the waist. In the echo of the 
shop door ting, Amna watched her go across the road with a 
newspaper under her arm and felt a sudden uncomfortable 
rush of heat to her head. She wasn't sure that it was the 
prospect of working in sex cinema which caused her ears to 
burn and heart to pound at the base of her throat. Somehow 
the idea normally left her somewhat cold. Although she'd 
often masturbated to the images in the sex magazines she 
sold and had read articles on sex actresses with some 
attention, it left her feeling quite indifferent.

She didn't really wish to admit it to herself, but what had 
left her in a state of frantic bewilderment, and why she 
suddenly felt committed to at least auditioning for this sex 
film, was the brief kiss she'd just received. She'd only been 
kissed before by relatives and family, and never before had 
it felt so good, so warm and so much something she wanted 
again more and more. And from Susan in particular.

The time eventually came when Susan presented Amna 
with details of the time and place of the audition. It was a 
film with the unpromising working title of Hot Asian 
Lovers, for a film company with the unappetising name of 
Sextasy Stars, but as she'd already expended so much 
effort fantasising about and masturbating to the image of 
appearing in a sex film with Susan, Amna didn't feel capable 
of backing out even at this stage.

"You've never been to an audition before, so I'd better tell 
you some of the basic rules," elaborated Susan kindly. She 
gave advice as to how to dress. This was essentially to 
reveal her assets to their best advantage before and during 
the audition. Amna should ensure that she didn't obscure 
her cunt from view at all. "You'll find that all sex actresses, 
including me, discard their knickers and anything else 
covering their cunt while still in the reception room. As 
your breasts are such an obvious asset, you needn't actually 
display them, but you mustn't obscure them in any way. A 
blouse a size or two too small will be quite adequate."

The part of the exercise that filled Amna with the most 
trepidation, however, was not the actual audition. She 
considered this to be an ordeal best got over as quickly as 
all the unsuccessful interviews she'd had for office jobs. In 
fact, it was the prospect of going to Emma's flat in the 
building opposite the shop. She didn't tell her parents about 
the nature of the job interview she was going to and wore 
her most revealing clothes under an overcoat. She set off 
up the lift to the flat after a girl whose voice she couldn't 
distinguish over the intercom let the door to the building 
open with the buzz which released the latch. She was let 
into the flat by Charlotte, who smiled at her reassuringly, 
and stood in the hallway waiting while Susan was getting 
herself ready.

She could hear panting and thumping coming from the 
living room that she at first ignored. Her first thought 
was that it was someone exercising, as her brothers did to 
give themselves the full muscular figure they found so 
attractive. However, when Charlotte opened the door to 
the living room as she passed Amna from the kitchen with a 
sandwich she'd just made, she could see the little girl, 
Maisie, and Josephine enmeshed in the position the sex 
magazines called a sixty-nine, with Josephine rather 
straining to bend her neck round to apply her mouth to 
Maisie's smooth little vagina. The two of them were making 
passionate cries as they pushed their tongues deep inside 
each other's welcoming crevices. Amna watched their 
activity with horrified compulsion, seeing in her mind's eye 
the vision of what she imagined Susan's vagina might look 
like.

After a few moments, and what seemed like much more, 
Susan appeared, thick in make-up wearing a dress pulled 
tight against her skin and confirmed what Amna had always 
suspected: which was that she really had no more breasts to 
speak of than Maisie had. She ran her fingers down the 
length of her body to smooth the creases to the top of her 
thighs where the dress just about stopped. "We'd better get 
going, dearest!" she announced. "We don't want to be 
late."

As the two of them were escorted in the taxi which Susan 
ordered, and insisted on paying for, Amna listened as Susan 
explained in great detail the little tips her years of 
experience had taught her would maximise her chances of 
passing the audition. These amounted to appearing to enjoy 
the audition by making more noise than necessary, ensuring 
that her cunt was in view as much as possible and, in 
Amna's case, her breasts. Amna nodded to each of the items 
of advice, not really listening but admiring more the 
smooth white skin of Susan's shoulders and the little 
dimple in her cheeks whenever she smiled.

There were several other women at the audition, most of 
whom were Asian like her. There were Punjabi, Afghani, 
Malaysian, Vietnamese, Cantonese and Inuit candidates, all 
of whom, as Susan had advised, had taken their knickers off 
before leaving the reception room, and sat in the bare 
plastic chairs supplied in stockings, bras, vests or, like 
Susan herself, in nothing at all. Amna felt quite 
overdressed in her blouse which she pulled up and knotted 
to reveal as much midriff as she could. She didn't know 
how encouraged she should feel by her own assessment that 
of all the women there that despite her inexperience she 
was actually one of the most physically attractive. Not the 
most attractive, she felt, admiring Susan's slim white body 
with the nipples only a little more prominent than those of a 
young boy and the patch of pubic hair that was so much 
sparser and shorter than Amna had imagined, having 
visualised it as more resembling her own pubic splendour.

The first part of the audition consisted of the interviewers, 
who were men in their forties in expensive clothes and 
beards, outlining the plot of the film the details of which 
sounded thoroughly disgusting to Amna when her mind 
wandered away from anxiety about the appropriateness of 
her appearance, the bushiness of her pubic hair (which was 
so much greater than that of anyone else) and her 
admiration for Susan's body. She barely even noticed that 
throughout this process Susan held her hand reassuringly in 
her own, until she felt a little squeeze on her thumb as one 
of the men detailed that there was actually no particular 
policy as to exactly which kind of Asian women would be 
suited to the film. 

"We know there is a market for Asian sex which is not 
really adequately exploited, and we want to have as broad 
an appeal as we can manage."

The audition passed in a haze to Amna, as she took most of 
her cues from Susan who kept a kind eye on her as they 
went through the motions. It started fairly amusingly as 
each of the girls stood up in turn and spun around while 
fondling their bodies with simpering smiles. As Susan 
suggested, Amna undid her blouse almost fully so that she 
was able to pull out her breasts and reveal the full lipsticked 
nipples that she'd carefully massaged into shape. Some of 
the other girls were even less expert at this than her: 
especially the Inuit whose movement was decidedly 
wooden and raised a slight frown from the producer.

The next part of the audition was the part Amna had 
dreaded the most, which was the occasion in which, 
unknown to everyone, she was to lose her virginity. It was 
quite a painful process for her as a large muscular Persian 
man whom she'd never be able to recognise again plied 
open her legs and pushed his quite large penis in and out of 
the hairy mass of her vagina. She'd never believed that it 
would be so painful, and the cries she'd started making on 
Susan's advice first to suggest pleasure, became much more 
genuine and much louder ones of pain. Fortunately, nobody 
seemed to be able to distinguish them from the quite 
theatrical cries that some of the others released. However, 
the Persian seemed a little puzzled by the blood that had 
painted his penis as he released ejaculations of semen over 
her breasts after several minutes of fucking. 

Amna was able to watch Susan as she was fucked by 
another man, who was a slightly overweight black man who 
never bothered to remove more than his trousers and 
underpants. Amna admired Susan's professionalism which 
was only matched at all by an Afghani girl who despite her 
skill at fucking had an unattractive grey pallor to her skin 
and droopy thin breasts. Susan took control of events and 
was able to bring the black man to a more satisfying 
ejaculation than Amna's Persian had ever achieved, catching 
some of the semen in her open mouth.

The part of the exercise that Amna had most thought about 
in advance, and which more than the fucking had filled her 
with trepidation, was the lesbianism. "Let it be with Susan!" 
she begged to herself. "Not with anyone else! It must be 
Susan!" The urgency of her request became greater as the 
pain she was feeling between her legs made her feel as if 
she'd been viciously punched there and then had her 
insides torn out of her. 

Unfortunately for her, it was actually the Afghani girl 
whom she found herself allocated to making love with, 
while Susan was wrapped up in the body of the Vietnamese 
girl. Amna watched in envy as the Vietnamese girl pushed 
her tongue deep into Susan's anus while Susan responded 
by pushing her fingers deep into her vagina and stroking 
her clitoris with her thumb.

The Afghani girl had a skill at making love that somehow 
compensated for the salty taste of her skin which Amna 
licked with badly disguised reluctance. For the first time, 
Amna felt she was getting some pleasure out of the sexual 
proceedings, as the girl tweaked her clitoris in her fingers 
and licked up the traces of blood that had got caught in her 
hair. It felt quite pleasant to have someone's nose deep in 
her pubic hair even though it gave her much less pleasure 
to stick her nose into the unpleasant smelling area of 
the Afghani girl's anus which seemed to have as much hair 
as that around her vagina. But it was genuine cries of 
pleasure she emitted as her lover pushed first two and 
then three fingers into the fleshy and not yet elastic 
opening of her cunt.



 XXIV


It was a long time since Emma had been summoned into 
Amelia's office. In fact, Emma had rather avoided seeing 
Amelia altogether since she'd been persuaded to have sex 
with Frank, whom she could never pass in the corridor 
without breaking into a hot flush. So when Emma received 
a call requesting her to come immediately to Amelia's 
office, it was with great trepidation she followed Betty in 
her prim suit along the television corridors towards her 
office. She hoped that it wasn't for another opportunity to 
humiliate her with the attentions of a man.

Her fears were rather confirmed when she heard the panting 
noises of a man making love as Betty let her into the office 
and then stood discreetly to one side. However, it wasn't 
Amelia the man was making love to. She was sitting on a 
swivel chair in nothing but her stockings and shoes resting 
her full breasts on her folded arms. Her fear gave way to 
horror when she realised that the girl with whom the man 
was having sex was Maisie. And worse, she was quite 
obviously enjoying it.

It was no novelty to see Maisie making love. Susan and 
Josephine would often be enmeshed in her slim little limbs, 
more often than not on Maisie's own request. But it was 
not pleasant for Emma to see her beloved being fucked by a 
man older than Emma herself and participating so 
vigorously.

"She certainly seems to enjoy Bill's attention," commented 
Amelia with a sly smile, as Emma stood transfixed at the 
door.

Emma nodded shyly. Just what was this in aid of? she 
wondered.

"I don't suppose you want to join in, Emma," Amelia 
continued. "I'm sure little Maisie wouldn't mind at all."

Knowing Maisie so intimately, Emma was sure that this 
was true, but the pangs she felt made her blush with anger 
and humiliation. 

"What's this all about?" she blurted out. "Why is she 
doing it?"

Amelia stood up and wandered over to Emma. She put an 
arm around Emma's naked shoulders and pulled her 
assertively towards her. "Because she wants to, lovie. 
Because she's been asking to have a more active acting 
career. Because she believes it's about time she moved on. 
So, she's showing me what she can do. And I must say that 
for such a young girl she shows evidence of both skill and 
considerable experience."

"But why are you showing me? Why have you called me 
in?"

"Because," smiled Amelia in a way that seemed quite 
menacing, "I have a proposal to make to you. And one I'm 
sure you can't refuse."

"One that I can't refuse? Why me? What have I got to do 
with what Maisie wants to do?"

Amelia squeezed Emma firmly across the shoulders and 
allowed one of her hands to fall on Emma's nipples which 
she gently massaged. "It is no secret to me - or to anyone 
else who works here - what sort of relationship you and 
Maisie have. Indeed, the young child has told me a great 
deal about the activities she gets up to: not only with you 
but with others who live with you. Activities which I find 
very interesting. Activities which I'm sure others would find 
even more interesting than me."

"What do you mean?" blurted out Emma, aware that this 
wasn't really a question she wanted answering.

"I don't wish to say more, lover," Amelia continued, 
bringing the palm of her hand underneath the cup of 
Emma's breast and idly weighing it. "What I wish to speak 
about is my proposal."

"What can that be?" Emma wondered, still transfixed as 
Bill's penis went in and out of Maisie's sweet little vagina, 
while the child clung hard to his waist and made frequent 
ejaculations of pleasure. Try as she would, she couldn't 
remove her stare from what caused her most distress.

"Face me and I'll tell you!" commanded Amelia turning 
Emma around to gaze into Amelia's amused eyes. Emma 
was still uneasily conscious of the theatre behind her she 
could hear from Maisie's ecstatic gasps and the slosh of 
vaginal juices. Amelia relaxed her grip on Emma and 
allowed her to stand back secured by her hands in hers. 

"It's not a disadvantageous proposal. Indeed, I'd say it's one 
which most people working her would fight tooth and nail 
to be offered. I've had the most spectacular sex with 
employees for much less! But since it involves dear little 
Maisie as well as you, I thought it better to discuss it with 
the child here."

"But surely not like that!" winced Emma to the sound of 
her child lover's passionate cries.

"It's best that we fully understand ourselves," Amelia said 
by way of explanation. She ran her hands up Emma's arms 
and then down her waist to secure a grasp at the top of her 
hips. "You've heard of Delia Cook, I believe."

"Well, yes!"

"She's successfully broken taboos of acceptability that were 
once thought unbreakable. And she's done so by being so 
very reasonable and so very sensible. Thanks to her, the 
subjects of child sex and incest which would have been 
forever neglected are now open to healthy, frank and open 
discussion. She and her fat motherly body are no strangers 
to television interviews on sex television and even 
mainstream television. There she is, in such a reassuringly 
ordinary and homely way, pushing out the frontiers of 
sexuality. And she does it so well! Don't you think?"

"Ye-es?" queried Emma. What had this to do with her?

"I help run a sex television station which has only recently 
been awarded its fourth X. Quite an honourable position! 
But I want to do more! I want my station to be in the 
vanguard - the avant-garde - of sex broadcasting. And it's in 
you I invest my hope." Amelia paused for dramatic effect, 
while Emma felt distinctly unwell from both the pressure of 
Amelia's caresses and the sound of Maisie's continued 
orgasmic ejaculations.

"You are the future of this station! I was most impressed by 
your principled and professional advocacy of this station in 
the recent campaign for our fourth X and I would like your 
services - and of course your prestige and salary - to further 
increase in the promotion of the station. What I would like 
is for you, and quite naturally your delightful young lover, 
to further the success of the station by presenting a 
television series that will present items which are quite 
deliberately on the most extreme edges of acceptability in 
your own very sensible and reassuring style. I want you to 
interview sado-masochists, paedophiles, transsexuals and 
others and, naturally, show them in action. And most of all 
I want you to make love with Maisie for the program every 
week to show the world how healthy and loving a child-
woman relationship can be. To show the world that it is a 
natural and fulfilling love which shouldn't be disdained and 
reviled, but should be understood and, if not emulated, at 
least seen."

"You want me to make love to Maisie in front of the 
camera...?"

"Of course, my love!" smiled Amelia, kissing Emma full on 
the lip with a very toothy smile. "I want full, 
uncompromising sex, using whatever props you feel 
appropriate, with as much passion as I know you're 
capable. I want the two of you ejaculating and orgasming 
with the freedom and abandon to which I know you're 
accustomed. I want as many people as possible to see what 
a sexual animal you are, and the uses and abuses you put 
both Maisie's and your own cunt to!" Amelia forced her lips 
straight onto Emma's own and kissed her fully, allowing her 
tongue to explore the crevices of her molars, with more 
passion than Emma had ever experienced from her before. 
"And I know you'll agree. Not just because your non-
compliance could stunt such a promising career, but also 
because you just don't know who else might be chosen as a 
co-presenter with your so very willing young friend!"



 XXV


Amna wasn't sure how she felt when she received her letter 
from Sextasy Stars telling her that she'd been successful in 
the audition and asking her when she could start coming in 
for rehearsals for the film. When she learnt that Susan 
had also been accepted for a role in the film, however, 
she decided, perhaps recklessly, that it was a well-paid 
job which she'd be really stupid not to accept even though 
it meant being extremely wary about giving her parents a 
good idea of what the job actually entailed. She also 
knew that she'd still be expected to work in the shop 
when time allowed; and this was a responsibility she'd 
not be able to shirk whatever other work she was doing.

However, the unsavoury nature of her work meant that she 
felt rather less happy about staying at home with her 
parents and continuing to share a bedroom with her two 
younger sisters. She'd actually resisted any suggestion of 
moving away from home before. It was much more secure 
than anywhere else and she liked the luxury of having her 
food prepared, her laundry cleaned and indeed everything 
else being done for her. On the other hand, she'd felt 
uneasy enough on just the audition coming home smelling 
so obviously of the smell of sex. She'd rushed straight 
into the shower and spent ages scrubbing off the evidence 
and worrying about the damage so recently done to her 
body. She felt around her vagina with an anxiety she'd 
never felt before for signs of worse damage than she'd 
originally anticipated. If she was to be coming home 
regularly with this kind of anxiety, how soon would it 
take her parents to realise that she wasn't working as a 
clerical temp in a small accounts' department? And how 
much opportunity did it give her mother to actually fulfil 
her well-meant promise to visit her at work to see how she 
was.

Her Aunt Salim was a good Muslim. She covered her hair 
in a head-scarf and all her body was covered by a long 
discreet dress, which was not unstylish but designed more 
to hide than to flatter. Amna wasn't sure that Aunt Salim 
was the best person with whom to live, but her aunt had 
often made the offer, and now seemed the appropriate time 
to accept. She hoped that her aunt had been sincere in her 
promise that she just wanted company in her three-bedroom 
house and would leave Amna alone as much as possible. 
And anyway, despite her unambiguous religious devotion, 
she was very pleasant and easy-going, making the effort to 
show interest in the sort of things that Amna enjoyed.

Aunt Salim was also a woman who seemed a little apart 
from the rest of Amna's extended family. She was quite a 
distant aunt (several times removed) and was in fact was 
not wholly Asian. Her mother or father had bequeathed her 
with paler skin, lighter brown hair and far more freckles 
than anyone else in the family. This alone constituted quite 
a severe difference, but even now, in her early thirties, 
she hadn't got married and didn't even have a fiance. She 
had quite a nice home, however, which she'd bought partly 
from family money, but mostly from her salary as a systems 
analyst in an insurance company. Quite clearly her employer 
was not one who expressed prejudice about employing 
Muslims.

Amna soon received permission from her parents who 
nonetheless expressed reluctance to see her leave the family 
nest, even if it was to live with someone in the family who 
could be relied on to provide a proper moral environment. 
However, Amna knew that, in truth, they were quite 
pleased to see her leave more room for her sisters and that 
her mother secretly looked forward to having one child less 
to look after. Aunt Salim picked Amna up in her modest car 
and assisted her in loading the bags in the boot.

Amna was soon shown her new room which provided much 
more space than she was used to and a quite pleasant view 
across a leafy suburban street to the mock Tudor houses 
opposite. She spent some time unpacking her bags and 
putting her underwear and clothes in the appropriate 
drawers. She knew she was finished when she'd put up her 
last poster on the wall and the several framed photos of her 
parents, brothers and sisters on the available surfaces. She 
lay back on her bed contemplating her new room and 
thinking of her future in films. After appearing in Hot 
Asian Lovers with Susan, what next? She'd have so 
much money and be able to do the millions of things she'd 
always wanted to do and hadn't been able to afford. All she 
had to do was to put up with the discomfort of having 
men's engorged penises enter her and pretend to enjoy it.

After a while, she made her way down the narrow staircase 
to the living room where she could hear Aunt Salim 
watching television. What she didn't imagine she'd see was 
her aunt, who she had only seen totally covered, dressed in 
nothing more than expensive black silk underwear, knickers 
and bra. She was sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked up 
underneath her, her bushy hair cascading free over her 
shoulders. Aunt Salim greeted her with a smile and no 
comment and the two of them continued to watch the 
television programs that were on.

Amna soon came to understand that her aunt habitually 
spent her time at home dressed only in underwear: perhaps 
as a compensation for being so hidden the rest of the time, 
and as a result the temperature of the house was kept 
somewhat higher than Amna was used to at her parents' 
flat. It seemed that besides her heavy unexciting outdoor 
clothes, she really owned nothing more in the way of 
clothing than an extensive wardrobe of comfortable silk 
lingerie. She didn't consider it at all unusual, (although 
she'd clearly not advertised her preference to the rest of  
Amna's family) an impression reinforced by the fact that 
whenever Aunt Salim was entertaining her women friends, 
they too dispensed with all clothes bar their underwear. 
And quite a few of these women were very devout Muslims. 

Unencumbered by her clothes, Aunt Salim had a very 
attractive body. She was slim, with a less pronounced figure 
than Amna's very obvious bell-shape. She had a flat stomach 
and taut muscles in the arms which gave evidence to the 
efforts she took to keep her body in good form. Like most of 
her friends, Amna found it funny that she put so much effort 
into her appearance and yet had not got married. Nor did 
she ever show any ambition in that direction.

After a while, and with no prompting from her aunt, Amna 
started wearing only underwear around the house. It was 
quite a liberating feeling for her, although she didn't 
have the range or quality of lingerie of her aunt. In fact, 
all her underwear was made of quite cheap nylon and cotton 
in colours and designs more fun than elegant. Of more note 
was the fact that the knickers did not succeed at all in 
hiding her bush of pubic hair at the top of her thighs or 
above the waist-line. Even her bra did a less than perfect 
job of restraining her breasts and on more than one 
occasion she'd found that a bosom had worked its way 
loose and was freely on view. When this happened she 
embarrassedly struggled to restrain her still-growing assets 
inside bras purchased when she'd had more modest 
requirements. Aunt Salim made no signs of ever having 
noticed, and indeed made very little sign ever of 
noticing the way her niece was now dressing. She gave no 
signs of either approval or disapproval, and never appeared 
at all aware of any aspect of Amna's appearance. 

Most of the time, the aunt and niece would sit around in the 
living room either watching television or reading books, 
and it was only occasionally that Amna felt the need to 
spend time by herself in her own so spacious bedroom. She 
concluded that living with her aunt wasn't such a bad move 
at all: she felt much more free and comfortable than she 
ever did surrounded by her immediate family.

 

 XXVI


Charlotte had gradually drifted away from Emma's bed, and 
was now spending far more time with Josephine who by 
virtue of her steadfastness and reliability had displaced 
the more demanding Emma from primacy in her affections. 
Quite often these days, Charlotte and Josephine would 
spend their evenings together in Josephine's pleasant one-
bedroom flat amongst all the fluffy toys and cushions. She 
found so much more pleasure from just resting in 
Josephine's arms without the demands for passionate love 
made on her by Maisie and, on occasion, Emma. The one 
who most felt put out by the consolidation of Charlotte's 
emotions and her more frequent absences was Susan, who, 
much more often now, lost the optimism and self-
confidence she carried around with her. She remained loyal 
to the flat, even when Charlotte was away, seduced by 
Maisie's affection for her and the hope that at some stage 
Charlotte's love would drift more solidly her way.

Emma was still Charlotte's closest friend: an honorary title 
the two of them felt imperative to maintain although they 
recognised (belatedly in Charlotte's case) that they were not 
to be the closest of lovers. It was in this capacity that 
Charlotte felt obliged to take time off work to give Emma 
and Maisie as much moral support as possible on the first 
screening for the new television program that Emma was, 
for the first time, to be presenter. The news of it when 
excitedly announced by Maisie, the co-presenter, had rather 
surprised Charlotte. At no stage in the throes of passion or 
in the depths of her relationship with Harriett or any other 
time had Emma ever expressed any interest in appearing in 
front of the screen on a regular basis. Especially not in a 
position which Maisie proudly boasted would involve 
having sex with quite a few guests and interviewees. 
Indeed, she had far more often expressed her deepest 
revulsion at the very suggestion. This previous attitude 
seemed consistent with Emma's reluctance to discuss her 
television career or even the nature of the programme 
she was to present. 

At first, Charlotte assumed that the main attraction was the 
substantially increased income she'd get, but Emma didn't 
even discuss what she'd do with all the money she'd be 
banking. It was a mystery to her why Emma should do such 
a thing and Maisie's own irrepressible chat on the subject 
gave no clue as to her motive. Neither did Josephine nor 
Susan seem to have much idea. Characteristically Susan 
merely wondered why she'd waited so long, while 
Josephine's most authoritative opinion was expressed by a 
shrug of her naked shoulders. Whatever the motive, Emma 
seemed very much more grateful to Charlotte for her 
expression of moral support than she'd imagined (having 
quite imagined that Emma would have expressly forbidden 
it).

The television offices were not as welcoming a place as 
Charlotte had imagined when she arrived with Emma and 
Maisie and hurried along the corridors with them. She had 
chosen to go nude as that was the way that Emma always 
went to work, but having worked in a supportive naturist 
environment for so long she was unprepared for the 
lecherous stares of the men they passed en route to 
where the filming was to take place. Emma found Charlotte 
a comfortable chair to sit in to wait in the film studio, while 
she and Maisie got prepared in the make-up rooms. 
Charlotte sighed to herself as she watched the naked body 
of her friend wind through the television cameras, cables 
and lights to catch up with Maisie who was indolently 
kicking the wall with her expensive trainers, the only 
clothes she ever wore these days.

The studio was a cluttered space, full of mysterious 
equipment and men and women who were handling it. In 
the centre of it all, and looking bizarrely homely, was an 
open space in which there was a very large bed and a  
voluminous sofa. Behind the furniture and the dangling 
recording paraphernalia was a colourful backdrop with the 
programme's title, Sex and Sensibility, displayed in a 
restrained style at relevant points. When Maisie  
originally mentioned the name Charlotte had assumed that 
the programme was to be a sex dramatisation of a famous 
Jane Austen novel, but she came to realise that the 
programme had pretensions of being a serious series 
reviewing sex issues in modern society: an identity which 
caused Emma to laugh in a hollow sardonic way. Charlotte 
sat patiently, ignoring the stares of the studio technicians by 
burying her head in the newspaper she'd brought along with 
her.

Finally, the filming was due to start, at which point the 
studio became less full of the technicians with tape and 
screwdrivers, and more full of camera operators, sound 
recordists and finally a group of non-technical people who 
sat in the much more comfortable chairs next to her. Emma 
sat beside her where she silently and gratefully took 
Charlotte's hand in hers and gripped it tightly for as much 
comfort as it could give. Maisie stood to one side where 
she chatted idly to a boy not much older than her. Except 
for the three of them, everyone was fully clothed and 
indeed the make-up applied to Emma's skin and face made 
her feel even more naked in comparison.

The object of this filming was to organise the backdrop to 
the credits at the beginning and end of each programme that 
unsurprisingly would feature the two co-presenters, Emma 
and Maisie, making love to each other. The entire exercise 
(which would take several hours) would be to film the two 
of them indulging in explicit sex against various backdrops, 
using assorted props and indulging in innumerable 
variations. The director seemed to believe that credits 
featuring such an intimate woman-child relationship in such 
full detail would somehow be sensitively appropriate to a 
series that sought to dispel many of the myths and 
misconceptions surrounding certain taboo sexual activities. 
Emma's own sardonic opinion was that it would just make 
the programme look like every other sex programme, with 
just a little more pandering for the more obscure sexual 
predilection.

Charlotte had often seen Emma and Maisie making love, 
and indeed on occasion she'd even been persuaded to film 
them together on the home video-recorder, but it was quite 
a different matter to see the two of them flood-lit under 
such an intimidating array of bright lights surrounded by 
men and women she'd never seen before, occasionally 
taking instruction from prompts flashed to her on auto 
cues. The exercise was rather bereft of intimacy despite 
the quite obvious fact that the two lovers were enmeshed 
in their lovemaking now as least as much as at any other 
time. Of the two of them, it was clearly Emma who was the 
most anxious and nervous, with Maisie taking the upper hand 
in directing her older lover's attentions. And it was Maisie 
who was the first to make use of the dildo provided and use 
that to enter Emma's cunt while a studio cameraman positioned 
himself on the stage to get a close view of the action while 
the little girl pushed her slim figure backwards and forwards 
between Emma's legs.

After a while, perhaps nearly half an hour, Emma became 
rather less nervous in her role and Charlotte breathed 
more easily as the lovemaking became more relaxed. There 
was a more comfortable flow of her movements, becoming more 
like that of Maisie's, culminating after a few minutes in 
the first of the many orgasms of the session. These orgasms, 
to which Charlotte was now rather accustomed at home, where 
it forever punctuated the mass of female lovemaking, seemed 
to excite the previously morose director who started making 
notes in a hard-backed notebook.

Eventually, the two girls had exhausted all the possibilities 
of location, prop and activity offered to them, and the 
session came to an anticlimactic end with the technicians 
dispersing, Emma rushing off to the make-up room and Maisie 
chatting idly to the director and those around him. Charlotte 
was relieved for Maisie's sake that she hadn't resorted to 
her more violent sexual behaviour and the two came out with 
only the bruises of prolonged grinding groins and the 
accidental scratches of fingernails. 

Charlotte sat waiting for Emma wondering not just how the 
hours of videotape would be edited down to the two or 
three minutes of credits for which they were filmed, but 
how much Emma's new career would change her. She felt 
convinced that having such public sex for the first time was 
akin to when she'd lost her virginity. Now that this barrier 
was broached she would live in a different world of 
references. She also wondered how Emma really felt about 
her experience. She evidently enjoyed making love to Maisie 
(her love for the girl was both deep and sincere) but 
how much pleasure, if any, did she get from making love 
for the camera? And in turn for an audience of innumerable 
people she'd never known and would never meet.

It was inevitable for a programme with presenters like 
Emma and Maisie such as Sex and Sensibility that the 
first edition should feature an interview with Delia Cook. 
As one of the researchers commented when given the brief 
to organise the interview, it was not so much an interview 
with Delia Cook as "yet another interview". The principal 
difference in this interview, Emma was not so pleased to 
find out was that not only would there be sex between her 
and the stout authoress, but her beloved co-presenter 
would be expected to indulge in sex with one or other of 
Delia Cook's children. However, having been a keen 
researcher for so many years, she prepared herself for the 
interview by re-reading Sex and Family Matters amongst all 
the other literature she was given.

Part of her homework was to watch videos of previous 
interviews Delia Cook had given to examine her previous 
sexual activities on the screen. Except for her relative 
bulk, her interviewee was quite the same as any sex star 
ever interviewed with the same unlikely stamina and 
predilection for all sex. To meet her in the flesh, however, 
was quite different as Emma was to find when she, Maisie 
and a small film crew arrived at the authoress's very grand 
house in the outer suburbs of the city.

The Delia Cook who opened the door to her naked guests 
was naked herself with the complete tan of someone who 
rarely rests partly dressed in the sun. Other than that, she 
seemed much more an ordinary person than Emma expected. She 
certainly couldn't be described as particularly beautiful. 
Away from the glare of the camera she lost much of her 
charisma. She invited the two girls and the two members of 
the film crew into her very homely living room, chatting 
all the time about their journey there and the weather. In 
the same room, sitting on an armchair, wearing a tee-shirt 
and shorts was a young girl a couple of years older than 
Maisie whom Emma immediately recognised as Jennifer from 
the photographs in Delia Cook's book. She didn't jump up 
when everyone came in, but looked at the crew with 
curiosity while fiddling with a piece of squidgy plastic 
in her hands.

"Say hello to these people, Jenny," ordered Delia Cook 
kindly. "You don't want them to think you're rude." The 
girl sullenly greeted them and returned her eyes to her lump 
of plastic. "You must forgive my daughter," the mother 
continued to everyone. "She's actually quite thrilled. She's 
never been on television in such a starring role before. 
Indeed, before your fabulous new show there just weren't 
any programmes which would be willing to film her in any 
kind of action. And don't worry, Emma dear, I've heard 
about your tastes. Neither my husband or son have been 
invited into this film session; although my son in particular 
was ever so keen to get to know the lovely Maisie that 
much better!"

The talk aspect of the interview was to actually occupy 
rather less than a quarter of the half-hour programme, but 
Delia's replies to Emma and Maisie's questions were very 
full and practised, providing detailed accounts of the sexual 
adventures she and her family had, peppered with homely and 
sensible advice regarding the less glamorous health and 
safety aspects of the practices she advocated. Emma was 
pleased to see that Maisie asked her questions with a 
maturity and confidence which made her seem much older 
than her thirteen years. She was just as capable as Emma 
to elaborate on her questions and to ask other questions 
that led on naturally from previous ones. It seemed such 
a shame, Emma reflected, that so many of Maisie's 
questions and answers would end up on the cutting room 
floor.

As part of the interview, and as a kind of novelty item to 
signpost the kind of serious and sensible series Sex and 
Sensibility was to be, Delia Cook gave advice to Emma and 
Maisie about sexual behaviour appropriate to a couple such 
as them. She positioned the two lovers physically with her 
podgy hands and demonstrated in great detail to Emma, the 
camera crew and ultimately millions of viewers, aspects of 
Maisie's smooth young vagina that few would suspect and 
that Emma had uncritically enjoyed. In the process, Delia 
squeezed and stroked and tweaked it in a way she obviously 
found very stimulating. Then with what seemed practised 
grace, Delia guided the activity into much more physical 
love-making.

The transition from aural to sexual intercourse took the 
film crew by surprise, as they anxiously jostled into 
position with the appropriate selection of camera and 
audio equipment, as Emma started licking around the 
smooth exterior of Maisie's cunt, allowing almost all her 
tongue on occasion to delve inside its opening. Then 
Delia joined in, taking control of both Maisie's clitoris 
and Emma's arse as it stuck out behind her.

"Come on, Jenny!" her mother cajoled her daughter who 
with no more prompting pulled off her tee-shirt to reveal 
by the small bush of fluffy hair underneath that she'd 
already taken off her knickers. She paraded self-consciously 
in front of the inquisitive glare of the camera, before joining 
her mother and Emma in stimulating Maisie's crotch. She 
was a little older than the photographs in Delia Cook's 
book, and consequently had a more mature body, already 
showing prominent breasts and enough puppy fat to 
suggest that she might not remain slim all her life. She soon 
directed her lips away from Maisie's crotch, following 
Emma's busy tongue into her mouth and soon the two of 
them were making love separately from Delia and Maisie.

Throughout the rest of the lovemaking in this interview, 
Emma got the distinct impression that it was Delia who was 
directing the activity rather than her, the supposed presenter 
and interviewer. It was Delia who ensured she had enough 
explicit sex with her daughter - including anal and vaginal 
penetration with vegetables and dildos - to dispel any doubts 
regarding the intimacy of their relationship. It was she who 
persuaded Jennifer to have more sex with Maisie and rather 
less with Emma (which she seemed to prefer). It was she who 
sensed Emma's discomfort in the role of sex interviewer to 
ensure that she could escape from the constant gaze of the 
camera and watch the activity from a distance.

It was also she who, when Emma and Maisie felt exhausted 
with the lovemaking, persuaded the camera crew to 
accompany her daughter and her to another room where 
they could film more incestuous sex, only this time with 
the male members of the Cook family. She had assessed 
Emma as someone who didn't particularly enjoy the sight 
and suggestion of male sexuality. She also realised 
that although Maisie was one who was enthusiastic about 
being fucked by her son, Kevin, or her husband, it was 
an activity which would be more likely to upset Emma. She also 
recognised, though, that it was for incest and child sex that 
the interview had taken place at all and if she was to retain 
her position as the high priestess of such activity it was 
best to allow Sex and Sensibility to film exactly what they 
wanted.

Emma and Maisie were left lying in a heap of sweaty naked 
flesh on the Cooks' large pale blue carpet, gasping and 
panting with exhaustion. Droplets of salty sweat dripped off 
Emma's eyebrows onto her cheeks to join a more general 
flow towards her mouth where she could still taste 
Jennifer's vaginal juices and her mother's saliva. She looked 
at Maisie, who had stood up and was now nosing around the 
living room: looking at the homely framed pictures, the naked 
statuary and country-side scenes. And more particularly at 
the selection of juvenile compact discs that Jennifer had 
stacked by the stereo system.

"Just listen to that!" laughed Maisie pointing to the ceiling 
from above which passionate lovemaking could be heard. 
There was the thud and rattle of beds accompanied by 
guttural cries from both men and women. "They just don't 
know how to stop!"

"No, they don't," admitted Emma, who, always the 
pragmatist, was already considering how they would edit 
the quite considerable material that would have been filmed 
today and if this meant postponing the planned item on 
novel Cuban birth control methods.



 XXVII


Amna dreaded the day, but it finally came, when she was to 
have her first day working on the set of Hot Asian 
Lovers. She arranged to meet Susan at her flat, so, for 
Amna, she got up quite early and took the bus across town 
to the block of apartments opposite her parents' shop. She 
prayed while waiting for a prompt reply on the intercom 
that there would be no time for her family would see her 
standing there, and fortunately nobody did. She was dressed 
in just the underwear she usually wore around Aunt Salim's 
home, highly conscious that whatever she should do she 
mustn't unbutton the overcoat she wore from fear of revealing 
her pubic hair or the breasts that only with effort she'd 
managed to keep hidden. Taking Susan's advice she'd plied 
plenty of red lipstick onto her nipples, but couldn't see 
the point of doing a similar job with flesh-coloured 
lipstick around the opening of her vagina. Nobody would be 
able to see anything through the thick mass of her pubic 
glory.

When she reached the flat, she found the door had been left 
thoughtfully ajar and was greeted by the girl whom she'd 
spoken to on the intercom. It was Maisie wearing just a 
pair of cut-off denim shorts and a large dildo strapped 
around her buttocks which protruded rather prominently 
through the unbuttoned flies. Amna didn't know it, but 
Maisie had been rather taken by an interview she and Emma 
had with a community of women who proudly termed 
themselves Dildo Dykes. These were girls who practised 
the fashion of wearing dildos wherever they went. This was 
meant as a statement of their rejection of the male ethos of 
feminine modesty and also as an unambiguous statement of 
their dyke-hood. It was also a statement, as the very chatty 
crop-headed interviewee had made clear, that as Dildo 
Dykes they were "always ready to fuck!" This was a 
sentiment that particularly attracted her, although it 
offended Emma's own views as to the impurity of wearing 
even as few clothes as that.

Amna had no views or understanding of women who wore 
dildos. She thought it rather ugly and disgusting. She'd 
often seen girls on the underground and in record shops 
with dildos sticking provocatively through the flies of their 
shorts, trousers or skirts. Or even without any clothes at all 
to otherwise disguise their lower regions. She had a vague 
idea that it might have some meaning or significance, but it 
was the femininity of women that she found attractive and 
this seemed to rather negate that.

"You're here to see Susan, aren't you?" smiled the little girl, 
stroking her smooth chest.

"It's my first day at work," Amna admitted.

"Your first day ever?" Amna nodded. "I remember my first 
day of fucking on the screen. It was heavenly! It was 
gorgeous. The men are so good! They just keep fucking 
and fucking. I don't know where they get their energy from! 
You'll like it for sure. Here," she smiled wickedly, "let's see 
your body."

Amna nervously complied, feeling that she could scarcely 
refuse in front of a girl who was so accustomed to seeing 
naked women. She unbuttoned her overcoat and parted it 
revealing her nylon underwear.

"Golly! You're very hairy aren't you! But you've got nice 
tits." She leaned up to squeeze one. "It's so lovely and firm. 
I'd love to fuck you whenever you want."

Amna didn't know what to say. This wasn't the sort of thing 
she ever hoped to hear from her younger sisters, but she 
assumed that for sex actresses there was a totally different 
moral and ethical order. If she wanted to get to know 
Susan better she'd have to get to know and understand it 
however much it contradicted all that her parents had ever 
inculcated in her.

"Let's see Susan," announced Maisie, pushing open the 
door to a bedroom which disclosed Susan and Josephine 
making love to each other. Susan's mouth was joined with 
Josephine's and both had their fingers probing deep inside 
the other's vagina. Susan looked up at Amna and Maisie, 
sweat pouring off her face and down over her shoulders. 
Amna shuddered with passion and guilt as she looked at the 
girl's smooth white body and her tiny nipples while the 
taller Josephine obscured the sight of Susan's crotch by her 
wobbling buttocks.

"Why hello... Amna... dearest!" gasped Susan in the throes 
of passion. Amna smiled shyly, not at all sure what to say.

"Do you want to join in?" asked Maisie sweetly putting one 
of her thin arms around Amna's upper thighs.

"Won't they mind?"

"Fuck no!" said Maisie laughing. "Fuck no!" She looked at 
Amna quizzically to ascertain whether she would actually 
take up the offer. Amna stood frozen in uncertainty: torn 
between her desires and her shyness. 

"Well, if you won't, I will!" announced Maisie, undoing her 
denim shorts and pulling them down over her slender thighs 
and pulling her tiny feet through them. She then approached 
Susan with the dildo sticking out prominently in front of 
her, its strap secured round the top of her buttocks and 
fastened by a tiny buckle between their two small round 
orbs. She stroked Susan's crotch with her hands, while 
Josephine arched her neck round and pushed her tongue 
into Maisie's mouth.

Amna stood, petrified by her inhibitions, watching Maisie 
insert the length of the dildo (longer than most men's 
penises, Amna was sure) deeper and deeper inside Susan's 
cunt while the girl released gasps of pleasure and ecstasy 
with each thrust. It was a very unsettling sight to see a 
child so young having such total possession of the woman 
who was the constant companion of all Amna's private 
sexual fantasies and longings. She scarcely noticed as 
Josephine discreetly disengaged herself from the couple, 
stood up and put her long naked arms round Amna's 
overcoat-covered shoulders. She made no effort to entice 
Amna to indulge in any sex herself, perhaps realising the 
true centre of the young girl's gaze. This was Susan's cunt 
into which Maisie thrust her dildo backwards and forwards 
in imitation of the men she watched so avidly on the set. 

Amna didn't know how long her ordeal lasted. She was 
feeling both aroused by seeing the object of her desires 
indulging in the sort of activities she'd fantasised about (and 
which got her so hot, sweaty and sticky) and frustrated by 
the fact it wasn't she who was giving the oriental so much 
pleasure.

"Maisie's always like this," sighed Josephine in what seemed 
like the far distance of Amna's awareness of the world. "I'm 
sure it's because she's so young and that sex is such a novel 
thing for her. All she ever thinks about is the physical act. 
She never concerns herself about the emotional side."

Amna was aware that these comments were meant to 
comfort her, but her feelings towards Maisie at that 
moment were not of the most charitable kind. She was 
relieved when, with an effort, Susan persuaded Maisie that 
they should bring this to a halt as she had to go off to work. 
Amna's greatest desire then leaped out of bed, gave her 
only too brief a kiss (but so very reassuring!) and then in a 
matter of seconds pulled on a sweater and a pair of very 
skimpy white shorts.

"Underwear, darling!" exclaimed Susan, noticing how 
Amna was dressed. "Not perhaps the most sexy or 
expensive. But don't worry. Appropriate clothes will be 
provided on the set. Come on, or we'll be late!"

Today was also the first opportunity that Amna had got to 
read the script for Hot Asian Lovers, which she hurriedly 
skimmed through, searching with a pounding heart for a 
scene in which she was cited as having sex with Susan. 
There was no scene which mentioned that explicitly, 
although there were a few where she was expected to have 
sex with several men and girls. The story focused on a 
male lead who was apparently quite a famous sex actor 
(not, Amna was pleased to note, for the size of his 
penis, which was still big enough as far as she could see). 
He wasn't remotely Asian, although almost everyone else 
in the film was. His part was as a visitor to some 
unspecified Asian country as a visitor where by chance 
he came to have sex with almost everyone he met. And, 
also by chance, almost all these people were women with 
a curious indisposition relating to keeping their clothes 
on and their knees closed. 

This Asian country wasn't one that Amna had ever heard of 
(seeming to be an amalgamation of countries like Thailand, 
China, India and Afghanistan). There were no shortages of 
Hindu temples, deserts, mountains or sex bars. Susan had 
one of the more substantial roles of any of the women, 
presumably in recognition of her track record as a sex 
actress. She was playing a Japanese tourist (although Amna 
was sure that her origins were very probably not Japan) 
who wore the standard cliche dress of such a person: baggy 
shorts, striped singlet and a camera strapped around her 
shoulders and not at all hindered by any protuberances on 
her flat chest. As a tourist, Susan got rather a few 
opportunities for sex, including several without the male 
star. 

Amna's role was rather more modest, as a native of this 
curious Asian country, where she was to wear a rather 
revealing sari and a red tear-drop painted on her forehead. 
She wasn't inclined to tell anyone of her ignorance of the 
Hindu religion, having been brought up as a Muslim, as she 
was sure that she wasn't really expected to bring any 
specialist knowledge to her role. As Susan unsubtly 
informed her, she was chosen for her sexual potential, not 
her acting one.

Even though it was the first day, the director didn't want to 
waste any time. He handed the cast a timetable of shoots in 
which certain scenes were to be filmed and advised the 
starlets that their presence was expected even when they 
weren't scripted to perform. He explained, waving his large 
hands about when they weren't stroking his beard, that he 
had a philosophy of allowing the filming to take its own 
course, even when it diverged greatly from the script and 
that he might want to improvise with the delectations 
offered by the assorted cast whenever it seemed 
appropriate.

Amna was horrified that she was one of those due to be 
filmed on this very first day, as she was cast as one of 
the male star's first encounters on arriving in the country. 
Her scene was to be played in the mocked-up interior of a 
curious temple which mixed Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim 
iconography where she was supposed to play a temple 
worshipper. In this scene the star was meant to start 
masturbating for reasons that were not really well 
explained: despite the obvious incongruity and indeed 
inappropriateness of the surroundings. While masturbating, 
Amna's character was meant to feel aroused and then to 
entice the star into full sex while other temple-goers would 
look on in great delight and approval. Amna knew that if 
even a small part of this occurred in the mosque where her 
parents took her there would be uproar and would probably 
lead to something being written in the local newspaper.

However, the part required learning virtually no lines and 
those few there were, she was told, were intended merely 
as a guide. Amna allowed herself to be taken away to the 
dressing room which she shared with everyone else except 
the male star. Susan comforted her with advice, as did 
another girl, a Pakistani with somewhat paler skin than 
hers and with quite short hair. She was told not to worry. 
They weren't expecting great acting. Just apparent 
enthusiasm and willingness. Susan cuddled her and kissed 
her frequently on the lips and face, which was really all the 
comforting she needed, while the Pakistani adjusted the sari 
and learnt fairly early on that Amna knew no Punjabi at all. 
Or any other language other than English, except for a few 
words in Arabic. Amna dared to reciprocate Susan's 
affection with a few kisses of her own, the veins of her neck 
beating so hard from her daringness and her fear of 
rejection that she feared that it might choke her.

"Come along! Come along! What's keeping you?" 
demanded one of the technical assistants poking his head 
into a room full of naked or near-naked women. "We 
haven't got all day, you know!"

Amna was hurried along with various other unhelpful 
epithets such as that time was money, the technicians were 
on an hourly rate and that more footage would be filmed 
than would ever need to be used, so she shouldn't play the 
prima donna. Amna was distressed to see Susan stay behind 
in the dressing room with the Pakistani with whom she 
seemed to be developing a closer friendship.

She took her place on the set, standing by a papier-mache 
statue of an elephant god dancing in a Krishna pose, while 
the male star was filmed wandering along the linoleum 
covered floor of the supposed temple admiring what were 
in fact just the top of the scenery's cardboard walls. He 
paused by a mural of some women making love according 
to the dictates of the Karma Sutra that must have been a 
blown-up photograph of the real thing. He then pretended 
to get aroused by the contorted poses and the plethora of 
penises and vaginas. He pulled down the shorts he was 
wearing to reveal a semi-erect penis and started stroking 
it . Amna watched with dread and fascination, her hands 
down by her side and the sari threatening to flop off to 
reveal her left breast. She felt very exposed with just her 
navel and waist showing, aware that soon, according to the 
script, everything was to come off.

"Psssttt!" came a voice from behind her as one of the 
assistants gestured her on. Amna sighed. She now knew 
what stage-fright was, although her only audience was the 
silhouetted figures of the technicians and some of the cast 
she could glimpse beyond the arc-lights. "Psssttt!" 
repeated the voice more urgently.

Amna wandered onto the set, feeling the throbbing nerves 
of her neck echoed by the thump of her heart and the sweat 
pouring down her forehead, as she uttered the first words 
of her film career. "Oooh! You've got quite a thing there!"

"Would you like to touch it?" asked the star kindly, looking 
up at her with a not unsympathetic expression.

"Can I?" she asked with all the eagerness she could muster 
for the requirements of the script.

"Of course," smiled the star taking her hand in his firm 
hand and guiding it to his now erect penis.

"It's so warm!" commented Amna, departing from the 
script, as she observed her own first impressions of holding 
an aroused penis in her hand.

"It's hot for you!" improvised the actor.

In actual fact, Amna's first performance was not at all the 
failure she feared. The male star was very helpful, perhaps 
sensing her inexperience and shyness, and took her totally 
in control. She soon found that she was losing sight of 
the cameras trained on her, and, more worryingly, the 
censorious gaze of the director. She couldn't say that she 
actually enjoyed putting his penis in her mouth and 
drawing it in and out, while uttering appreciative moans. 
She certainly didn't enjoy his penetration of her, although 
he took great care to moisten her cunt as much as possible 
with his fingers and tongue. "You've got so much hair!" 
he commented smiling, with strands of pubic hair caught 
between his teeth. The fucking was something that went 
on rather too long for Amna's taste. Surely it must finish 
soon, she speculated while trying to remember to make her 
gasps of pain sound a little more like ones of pleasure. 
She felt the top of her cunt bruise with each of the 
star's deep thrusts and she felt sure that such a painful 
ordeal was totally removing any of the last of what 
maidenhead she'd still left untorn. 

Her speculation was confirmed when he pulled his penis out 
from her battered naked body and with a few gestures 
released a torrent of warm semen over her. There were 
small droplets of blood gathered around the glans and the 
smooth shine of the juices on it had a distinct reddish tinge. 

"Very good! Very good!" said the director afterwards, 
congratulating the male star, while Amna lay naked feeling 
helpless and humiliated on the cool linoleum temple floor, 
her sari lying over one of her thighs and her eyes focusing 
on a plaster-cast model of a crescent moon. "And you too, 
dear," added the director unconvincingly, looking at her 
with a not too sincere smile. 



 XXVIII


Susan was very kind to Amna after her day's work; 
sensitively noting the young girl's disorientation, but 
perhaps not really understanding why. She and her 
Pakistani friend took her to a burger bar where they chatted 
over some very squelchy whopper-burgers. Amna realised 
through the haze of her thoughts that Susan and the 
Pakistani were getting on very fine, swapping telephone 
numbers and quite freely kissing each other. She felt great 
jealousy which reinforced her general feeling of misery.

The two girls escorted Amna to a taxi-rank and paid the 
driver to take her back to Aunt Salim's flat. The taxi drew 
off while Amna pressed her face against the window and 
enviously watched the Pakistani walk off with her arm 
round Susan's slender boy-like waist. She reflected on her 
day, which after her sex scene with the male star was 
followed only a couple of hours later by a scene in which 
she had to have sex with two men simultaneously while a 
Tibetan woman with surgically enhanced breasts covered 
her face with salty kisses and filled her mouth with the 
distinct taste of the penises she'd been sucking. She forgot 
what the excuse for this sex scene was: only that it was 
quite painful. She'd not properly recovered from her first 
scene, and her anus was so tight that it almost defeated 
entry by the slightly tubby Malaysian man who had elected 
to bugger her. She now felt totally wretched and 
humiliated, and looked forward only to having a bath and 
going to bed.

As soon as she got back to the flat, she ignored her Aunt 
Salim's cheerful enquiries about her day at work and dashed 
straight into the bathroom, where she sat naked on the 
toilet for nearly twenty minutes struggling unsuccessfully to 
have either a shit or a piss or something else to evacuate 
from her system. Nothing happened. She then ran the bath 
water and sat in its water long after it had lost its warmth 
and all the bath foam had evaporated. She expected to see 
torrents of blood and semen burst out of her violated 
orifices, but in fact only the merest red and creamy stains 
could be seen in the bath water. She pummelled her vagina 
and arse with soap and loofahs, crying to herself, and self-
consciously feeling the tenderness at the top of her cunt and 
around the rim of her anus where she had received the most 
insistent pounding.

"Are you all right, Amna darling?" asked her Aunt Salim 
through the bathroom door. 

Amna was now out of the bath, furiously towelling herself, 
even though she was thoroughly dry, in the vain hope of 
scrubbing off the last traces of her ordeal. 

She grunted in reply.

"Can I come in?"

Amna grunted again, and stood naked on the bath towel in 
front of her aunt who was wearing her usual choice of silky 
lingerie. Amna had never appeared naked in front of her 
aunt before, but she felt beyond caring. 

"Are you sure you're all right?" Aunt Salim asked with some 
concern. 

She walked over to her niece, and with some tenderness put 
a long arm round Amna's shoulder. Amna had clearly been 
crying, despite her attempts to dry off the traces with the 
towel. She didn't resist her aunt's approach; instead she 
rather desperately wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm so unhappy!" she confessed. "I don't know what to 
think or what to do."

"Was your first day at work really that bad?" wondered 
Aunt Salim. "Surely clerical work can't be that bad."

"It's not clerical work," Amna confessed through a sudden 
outbreak of tears. She could feel the teardrops run down 
her face and into her mouth. Snot ran from her nostrils 
and made her nose feel slightly sore. "It was never 
clerical work."

"Can you tell me what it is?" her aunt asked 
sympathetically. 

Amna shook her head.

"Never! No! Never! I could never say."

Aunt Salim was tactful enough not to pry further. She 
escorted the still naked Amna to the living room and 
continued to hug her, while the girl rambled on about the 
various things that upset her. With time, and with very 
little prompting, Amna confessed all to her aunt. Her 
passion for an oriental girl in sex cinema, her work on Hot 
Asian Lovers, her on-screen sex, her jealousy and her 
current despair. 

"And that was the first time for you?" asked her aunt.

"It was horrible! Horrible! I'll never be able to go to the 
toilet the same way ever again! What must you think of 
me? I'm a disgrace to the family. What I've been doing is 
disgusting and filthy. I'm just a pervert."

"Ssshhh!" Aunt Salim prompted. "Don't blame yourself. 
Allah willing, all will be fine. I certainly won't treat you as 
anything other than my little niece, Amna."

"Thank you! Thank you!" replied the young girl, smiling 
bravely through the misery of her tear-stained face. She 
cuddled her aunt closer and closer, feeling the silkiness of 
the lingerie close to her naked skin and the pressure of her 
aunt's breasts against her own more ample pair.

There was no particular single event that determined the 
course of events, but Aunt Salim's comfort of Amna 
somehow drifted into Aunt Salim's bed, which felt so 
deliciously clean and smelt so freshly washed. Amna lay 
there beneath the sheets with her aunt's now naked body 
wrapped around her. There was no genital contact between 
them, but their kisses strayed around the face, into the 
mouth, into the ears, to the tips of the nipples and as far 
down the body as the belly-button. Her aunt made 
occasional comments as to the beauty of the dark hair on 
her niece's arms, and the extent of her facial hair which 
constituted a soft down of feminine sideburns. Amna only 
noticed and appreciated the safe comfort of her aunt's 
beautiful warm body, her clean and smell-free skin, the 
curious tilt of her nipples, the slightly long ear-lobes, the 
strong teeth and her long tongue which tickled every 
crevice of her ears and licked clean the tears off her cheeks.

Amna eventually managed to fall asleep. Her body wrapped 
up in a foetal ball around her aunt, one hand covering the 
thick mass of her pubic hair and the so conclusively violated 
vagina, while the other gripped tightly to her aunt's 
shoulder. Salim looked at her niece with an indulgent smile 
and tried to make herself as comfortable as she could while 
not disturbing her. She smiled more and more broadly and 
glanced over to look at the reflection of herself and Amna 
in the dressing-table mirror. She frowned at the peculiar 
sight of two women enmeshed in each other. The image 
didn't entirely please her. Her gaze wandered over to a text 
from the Koran that was framed on the wall. She frowned 
more deeply.

She started to stir, to disengage herself from niece but as 
she did so, Amna made a little grunt as a part of her reacted 
to her aunt's motion. Salim studied her niece. She looked at 
her dark skin, the even blacker hair cascading over her face, 
the breasts she'd never been able to contain very well under 
her clothes and the softness of a belly that would never be 
as taut and firm as her own. She examined the breasts 
heaving in her slow breathing and felt the girl's breath 
against her cheek. She smiled again, and pulled Amna closer 
to her. The next time when she looked at their reflection 
in the mirror it was with undiluted pleasure.

Amna didn't need to go to work the following day as the 
Director had excused her from appearing as he'd concluded 
that she probably would not be in top form after her 
previous pummelling. She anticipated her aunt telling her in 
no uncertain terms to stop working in hard-core sex films, 
but in fact she said nothing of the sort. When she woke  
Amna up with a tray of breakfast, she made no comment at all 
on discovering that Amna had the day off and was due back 
on the set the next day. She merely kissed her niece softly 
on the face, and prepared herself for her own job, covering 
up her silk lingerie under her clothes and tucking her 
long hair under a silk head-scarf. Amna stayed in Aunt 
Salim's bed all morning, relishing the silky softness of the 
sheets and the luxury of her free day.

She hadn't been up very long when her aunt returned from 
work. She was sitting in her knickers and bra, her feet 
drawn up beneath her, watching an imported soap opera 
whose banality somehow comforted her immensely. Her 
aunt greeted her cheerily with a smile, before retreating to 
her bedroom to change. She returned in red underwear with 
her hair loose, and sat next to Amna watching the 
predictable events the soap opera characters found 
themselves in.

"Did you have a nice day?" Aunt Salim wondered. "Do you 
feel better now?" 

"Yes, much better!" smiled Amna bravely. "I'm sure I've 
recovered."

Aunt Salim put her arms around her niece, drawing her 
close to her and then on impulse showered the girl's face 
with kisses. Amna reciprocated, with less passion but with 
the definite need for affection. Her aunt brought her hands 
around to the clasp at Amna's back that held the strap of 
her bra together. 

"You don't need to wear this you know," she said with a 
chuckle. "It's several sizes too small anyway!" 

She removed the bra and with a single gesture threw it into 
the waste-paper basket. Amna made no protest as her full 
breasts fell out unrestrained and felt instantly more 
comfortable. She made no protest, either, as her aunt 
removed her knickers which she said barely covered her 
properly anyhow, and found herself sitting naked on the 
sofa. She wondered whether her nudity would now be the 
prelude to more active caresses, but her aunt did no more 
than cuddle her. 

The evening was spent with the aunt and niece seated on 
the sofa when they weren't eating dinner, their arms round 
each other, caressing each other and watching television. 
Aunt Salim concentrated her attention on her niece's breasts 
and face and torso. She stroked the expanse of pubic hair, 
making no attempt to masturbate her niece or to let her 
fingers enter her vagina. When bedtime came, it seemed 
quite natural for the two of them to drift to Aunt Salim's 
bed, where, for the first time that evening, she took off 
her underwear, and Amna was able to feel the full warmth 
of her aunt's breasts and the crenulations of her nipples. 
The two lay together, but only Amna's hand strayed below 
the waist to feel her aunt's clitoris, which she seemed 
to find very enjoyable.

Their lovemaking remained tender and somehow detached. 
There seemed to be no inconsistency in Amna's mind in her 
aunt accepting her work in sex cinema, her passion for 
Susan or indeed her being related. Aunt Salim saw her 
niece off to work the following day as if she really were 
going to the office to work in a clerical capacity, only 
commenting on what clothes she should wear. She advised 
Amna to wear the clothes she felt comfortable in, not those 
in which she auditioned because, as she commented, these 
wouldn't be the clothes she'd be working in. 

As Amna left home in her jeans and tee-shirt, travelling on 
the underground train, it was several stops until she recalled 
to herself exactly where she was going and what her work 
entailed. She felt a sudden rush of dread as she 
contemplated the violation of her groin again. But as she 
thought of that and the idea of sex came into her head, the 
image of her aunt's body and that of Susan's appeared. She 
couldn't help asking herself how much the relationship she'd 
developed with her aunt somehow compromised the 
passion she felt for Susan. Which was the stronger and 
which was the more real? The answer she decided was that 
her relationship with her aunt was one of affectionate 
touching, whereas the feelings she held for Susan made her 
cunt feel much warmer and excited. The thought that most 
stimulated her was to imagine the caresses she'd given to 
her aunt, her tongue licking around her nipple and the 
excited shudders she'd given when she tweaked her clitoris. 
And then to substitute the naked form of Susan for that of 
Aunt Salim.

She needn't have felt anxious about having sex as she found 
that she was surplus to requirements on this particular day, 
so she was able to join the rest of the cast in watching the 
filming. Her jeans and tee-shirt didn't seem at all 
inappropriate, if a little tight around the hips, as most of the 
other girls were wearing the casual clothes they'd normally 
wear, which included one thick-waisted woman who was a 
committed naturist and another who, like Maisie, had taken 
to wearing a dildo under her shorts.

However, the lack of sex may have been a great relief in 
one sense, but what she was left with was mostly boredom, 
as more was done preparing the set than actually filming. 
She was pleased, though, that the filming was done 
outdoors near a private lake so she could enjoy the sun 
beating down on her and didn't have to pretend to have any 
real interest in the work going on. She felt deprived though 
in that both Susan and Aisha, the Pakistani girl, were not 
sitting with her and keeping her company. What troubled 
her as well was why the two girls were absent, and her fears 
proved well-founded when they started filming the scene 
which Amna just couldn't find in the script she'd been 
provided with.

The scene by the private lake was meant to be taking place 
at a distant Asian lake of a kind it was assumed was 
commonly found in this mongrel Asian country. Susan, as a 
Japanese tourist, came on the set and was apparently so 
taken by the lake that quite naturally what she did was to 
take off all her clothes and wander into the lake for a swim. 
Naturally, her clothes were stolen while she was in the 
water, so when she finished swimming she found herself left 
only with her camera and travellers' cheques. Amna 
thought something was very strange about that. Surely a 
genuine thief would have rather less interest in a 
Japanese tourist's clothes (which probably wouldn't fit very 
well, anyway) than her money and camera. 

Susan was then meant to panic and by chance she 
immediately met Aisha who was dressed in a similar kind 
of Hindu outfit to the one Amna had worn. She also had 
her short cropped hair covered in a long dark wig with a 
long plait reaching down her back. Within seconds, Aisha 
and Susan somehow lose all interest in their futile search 
for Susan's clothes, and showed a great deal more interest 
in each other's bodies. This was the part of the filming 
that troubled Amna the most. The two girls were clearly 
quite keen on each other and displayed unfeigned passion 
which stimulated the Director and cameraman. Amna had to 
watch for well over an hour while the two girls made very 
passionate love that soon graduated from oral sex to full 
penetration with a dildo which bizarrely enough Aisha had 
been carrying around beneath her sari. Amna felt jealous 
pangs as she watched Susan being deeply penetrated and 
gasping and screaming with her pleasure. If only she 
didn't enjoy it so much! If only it wasn't Aisha doing 
it! If only it was Amna who was making love to her!

Inevitably, the hero of the film had to be involved in some 
way, and as this in some unexplained way involved the 
return of the Japanese tourist's clothes this had to be 
expressed by Susan's gratitude which meant of course three- 
way sex with Aisha. It also entailed Susan penetrating his 
anus with the dildo, which was apparently unscripted but 
greeted with enthusiasm by the star and the Director. 
The love scenes at this stage troubled Amna rather less 
than before. Somehow the only rivals to her affection 
that Amna worried about were female ones. She couldn't 
imagine male lovers being anything to be unduly 
concerned about. She didn't really understand what it 
might be that so many women found attractive about men. 
The more she saw of them, and the more sex she had 
with them, the less she understood it. 

Eventually, of course, the relationship between Amna and 
her aunt led to their caresses drifting down more often and 
more actively to their groins. Aunt Salim took more and 
more pleasure in exploring the folds and crevices of her 
niece's vagina, and frequently found her tongue sore in the 
morning from running it over the thick pubic hair. Often she 
found strands of hair stuck between her teeth (sometimes 
tasting rather unpleasant when her tongue strayed inside 
Amna's hairy anal crack). She once even found herself 
coughing up a pubic hair on the underground train on the 
way to work. 

Amna less often let her tongue wander between her aunt's 
legs, but their relationship had settled on a pattern that 
somehow suited Salim: in which Amna was the passive 
recipient of her aunt's not inconsiderable attention. Amna 
wasn't sure how this had come to be, but she enjoyed lying 
back on the sofa or bed while her aunt stimulated her 
clitoris, vagina and anus. She felt rather detached from 
the activity even on those occasions when she was 
stimulated to feelings of greater passion than usual. 
It was clear to her that her aunt wasn't sure what her 
reaction should be but was somehow disappointed by her 
lack of frantic, wild or unrestrained orgasmic pleasure.

Amna's lack of passion sometimes troubled her, especially 
when she glanced down at her aunt, head in pubic hair and 
longing eyes gazing up, feeling she was somehow cheating 
her of all the pleasure she was hoping for. She quite gladly 
abandoned wearing underwear round the house. It only 
made her nipples feel sore and nothing she wore seemed to 
prevent the pubic hair from straying over the waist band 
or on the insides of her thigh. She liked to sit on the sofa 
feeling the warm bushiness of her groin and brushing her 
fingernails against her proudly growing nipples. 

She became more accustomed to making love at work, and 
though she couldn't really claim to actually enjoy it and 
it still gave her pain on occasion, it was no longer 
something she particularly dreaded. It was just part of a 
day's work. She got quite inured to the sensation of an 
erect penis thrusting away at her cunt, and took the advice 
of some of the other girls in lubricating it in advance with 
ointments and grease. However, no amount of lubrication 
made it that easy when it was necessary for her to be 
buggered, but she squeezed her eyes tight and bore it as 
well as she could. She would bear anything for the 
opportunity to be near Susan and for the promise of the pay 
she'd get for it.

She also got quite accustomed to seeing Susan having love 
made to her or indeed making love to others. It seemed to 
Amna that there was nothing unfeigned about her 
enjoyment, whether with a man or with a woman. She also 
noticed with alarm that her friendship with Aisha was 
increasing rather than diminishing with time. After all 
her sacrifice, however, Amna was disappointed to find that 
the love scene that she was originally scheduled to be in 
with Susan was changed so that the woman the object of 
her passion now made love to was Aisha. This was 
because the passion and photogenic value of their 
lovemaking had so impressed the Director. However, Amna 
was compensated by yet another scene in which she had 
sex with two men simultaneously in what was supposed to 
be another temple and was in fact the same scenery used 
before but slightly reorganised. This was not quite the 
compensation she'd been hoping for.

The filming was coming to an end, and so too would come 
both the last opportunity for having sex with Susan and 
receiving a cheque for her performance. Amna accepted 
with regret that Hot Asian Lovers was not going to be 
the film in which she'd consummate her love for Susan, and 
became more drawn to calculating the impact on her life of 
the substantial rewards she'd get for her acting.

Through her new contacts in the film industry she managed 
to acquire quite a collection of film stills and posters 
featuring Susan. The best she believed was a full poster in a 
film called Bangkok and Sodomy where she'd had the 
starring role. In this poster, Susan was positioned in  
underwear that revealed her crotch and fully displayed 
the flatness of her chest. The print with it explained 
that for Yoko, as Susan was known, the front entrance 
wasn't enough and the servants' entrance needed just as 
much servicing. There were some stills associated with the 
film which more graphically displayed penises entering her 
anus  while she was apparently totally overwhelmed with 
joy. She put this poster and all the other pictures up on 
her bedroom wall in Aunt Salim's flat where they acted as a 
kind of shrine to Amna's unrequited passion.

She could see that these pictures somehow disturbed her 
aunt, who nonetheless made no more comment about them 
than she did about her niece continuing to work in sex 
cinema. Amna didn't care, though. She would lie on her bed 
during the day while her aunt was at work day-dreaming 
about Susan and her child-like figure. She had even bought 
a couple of videos featuring Susan and watched them for 
Susan's body alone: frequently running the video past 
scenes in which other film stars were engaged in sex. The 
scenes she most enjoyed were the ones where Susan, 
clothed or unclothed, playing Hiyuchi or Nori or whoever, 
would be filmed with no other characters on the set at all. 
She rather relished the image of herself as a naked girl 
sitting around surrounded by images of her oriental love. 

She masturbated to the images of Susan. She tried to 
achieve the orgasm that her aunt wasn't able to elicit from 
her, and which she'd only ever been able to fake on set; but 
it stubbornly refused to happen. However much she beat away 
at her cunt and arse with carrots, courgettes, fingers or 
fists, she could only beat at the doors of passion but 
they didn't seem to want her to come in. All she was left 
with was a feeling of dissatisfaction, a sore wrist, a messy 
groin and images in her mind of Susan being fucked by 
men, women and most of all by Aisha. Sometimes the 
unfairness of it all caused her to cry and cry, knowing that 
the tears she shed would be rewarded by her aunt's 
passionate embraces, kisses and even more frantic attempts 
to provide her with that elusive moment of pure pleasure 
that seemed to come so easily to Susan.

 
XXIX


Life was certainly changing at Emma and Charlotte's flat. 
Emma and Maisie had at last found a house in a quite well-
to-do part of the city, and moved out to live together 
there. Emma was reluctant to move to somewhere so 
expensive, saying that it tied her more than she wanted 
to the kind of income she was now bringing in; but Maisie 
was insistent and as always Emma was unable to resist any 
of Maisie's requests. Their move was not a sudden affair. 
The two of them had been away rather more often than not 
for several months now, mostly connected with their 
television work, staying at distant hotels. Often when they 
were there, it was only one or the other of them as Maisie 
would visit her mother or Emma would be away on 
business which Maisie did not need to attend. When Emma 
was there, Charlotte made a determined effort to spend the 
night with her; but in truth, (as Josephine knew quite 
well) the urgency and significance that Charlotte  
once associated with her lovemaking with Emma were 
much less now. She had come to accept that Emma's real 
love was Maisie, and had moreover come to feel her love 
for Josephine much more strongly.

Susan still stayed in the flat. She had lost her previous 
home, as her boyfriend had started a relationship with 
another man and Susan no longer felt able to come and go 
as freely as she'd once done. She quite naturally moved into 
the bedroom vacated by Emma and Maisie, and although 
she still professed to a great unrequited passion for 
Charlotte, she no longer felt the need to spend so much 
time looking after her. She even had a brief affair with 
a Pakistani girl, Aisha, but this relationship didn't last very  
long. Josephine understood that Aisha had begun to express 
rather more desire for commitment in their relationship than 
Susan was prepared to offer. As Susan explained to 
Josephine, she was a professional fuck actress and any lover 
she had would just have to accept this fact. In any case, 
Susan expressed more passion in her occasional lovemaking 
with Maisie, herself and, less often, Charlotte, than in any 
of her nights together with Aisha. Josephine felt rather sad 
that their love affair hadn't lasted very long, as she'd quite 
enjoyed the taste of Aisha's cunt and she adored the way 
her tongue insinuated itself into her anus.

Josephine found that Charlotte was expressing a desire 
for a seriousness in their relationship that went far 
beyond anything that she'd ever experienced before, 
even with her boyfriends. She had in fact gone as far as 
proposing marriage.

"Marriage!" exclaimed Josephine. "Do you understand what 
you're saying?"

"It's perfectly legal now. Didn't you read about it in the 
papers recently? Marriage is now no longer to be defined 
on rigid gender grounds. Men can marry men. And women 
can marry women."

"Well, maybe so. But what's the point of getting married 
anyway? What can't we do now that we can do if we're 
married?"

"It's not a question of what we can or cannot do. It's 
symbolic. I just want to say to you that you are special in 
my life. Unique. That I love you. That I want to live with 
you. That I want to stay with you for the rest of my life."

Josephine was rather overwhelmed by the intensity of 
Charlotte's declaration of undying love and tightly cuddled 
her lover. They were very soon making passionate love on 
the strength of Charlotte's declaration, but what Josephine 
found particularly striking and somehow most appealing of 
all was Charlotte's claim that she wanted the two of them 
to have a baby. Josephine didn't want to confess to 
Charlotte that as a result of some unpleasant operations 
she'd had when she was less than thirteen years old it 
was extremely unlikely that she could ever be the mother 
of a child. She always hid from her lover the darker side 
of her past and the abuse she'd received in her family 
from her parents and other relatives. This meant that the 
only one of the two of them capable of child-bearing was 
Charlotte and she was remarkably enthusiastic about the 
idea. 

"Whether it's you or me, it doesn't matter!" Charlotte 
claimed. "I'd be proud to carry a child knowing it to be 
ours."

"Isn't there a bit of a problem in either of us fathering a 
child?" Josephine wondered.

"The father doesn't matter! What matters is that it belongs 
to both of us: even if only one of us is the biological 
mother. I would so like it if we could have a child. We 
could call her Emma or, if it's a boy, Robert or Charles or 
something."

"Yes, we could. But we need to find a biological father."

This was not of course a particularly difficult task for 
Josephine who in her years in sex theatre had met rather a 
lot of men who were more than willing to make love to 
Charlotte and her. It was necessary that in the lovemaking 
that both Josephine and Charlotte should be there together; 
otherwise it wouldn't be 'their' child, as Charlotte 
insisted on calling it. Her view was that if the father-
to-be conceived the child while making love to both of 
them at the same time, then in a real sense it could be 
said there was an equal chance of motherhood by either of 
the two lovers. Again, Josephine had no wish to disillusion 
Charlotte as to the relative probabilities.

This became a regular occurrence. Josephine would bring 
home with her one, two or even three male acquaintances 
or colleagues of different colours or ethnic backgrounds 
(this was not thought at all important) and before long the 
two lovers would immerse their bodies in each other with 
the additional presence of penises thrusting into their 
vaginas. Charlotte insisted that the men should release their 
sperm inside both of them, and not over their face and 
breasts, as some professional actors had a tendency to do. 
This required Charlotte or Josephine spotting the moment 
of seminal release and taking the black, pink or brown penis 
out of its current orifice as it seeped out its oozing 
yellowish liquid and insert it immediately in both of the 
girls' vaginas in the hope of insemination. Once this was 
done then the intention was that the man, or any other man 
who was servicing them at the time, should do his best to 
produce more of the precious liquid for further 
insemination.

Some of the men Josephine brought home very much enjoyed 
their roles as sperm-providers. It didn't bother them 
that Josephine and Charlotte showed no interest at all 
in their bodies beyond their sexual equipment and its 
reproductive capabilities. Often they actually enjoyed being 
so closely involved in lesbian lovemaking and participating 
in a role of nearly minimum emotional involvement with 
maximum release of semen. Some men however felt somehow 
cheated by it all. They felt rather marginalised by 
the way the only tenderness and passion the two girls 
showed were to each other, however much their vaginas or 
anuses were being penetrated or stimulated by the men's 
penises. Josephine could see that Charlotte, despite her 
avowed lesbianism, actually rather enjoyed having sex with 
men, as Josephine did, but the focus of their affection was 
very definitely each other. It might be pleasant to taste 
again a nice firm erect penis in between the teeth or 
jostling with the larynx. It might add to the ecstasy 
of orgasm to have a real live penis (rather than a dildo) 
thrusting in and out of the nether orifices. But the subject of 
their passion remained each other. Neither Josephine nor 
Charlotte felt any great feelings of affection or emotion for 
the men, although they soon came to have favourites who 
they were happy to have back again, perhaps the following 
night, for another chance of impregnating one or other of 
them.

The men were identified better by their penises than by 
their names, faces or personalities. Charlotte might 
reminisce about the particular productivity of an 
originally unpromising rather squat penis. Josephine 
might recall the length and duration of effort of another 
penis that might have given both of them rather more 
pleasure than normally but was actually rather less 
productive. Some men were recalled for the short time in 
which it took them to produce semen and how so much of 
it was wasted on the sheets rather than in their cunts. But 
the two girls' new hobby (of which Emma, whenever she 
visited, disapproved totally) was one that occupied them 
more nights than not, filled their bodies with viscous pale 
fluid and required rather more changes to the sheets than 
had hitherto ever been necessary.

Somehow, Susan no longer felt as content in her life as 
before. The reorganisation of the flat left her feeling 
somewhat sidelined. Emma and Maisie were so rarely at the 
flat and whenever they were it was always Charlotte who 
got the most attention. Even Maisie these days seemed 
somehow more distant; even if she would insist on 
fucking Susan with whatever flavour of dildo had taken 
her fancy at the moment. She felt rather banished, 
staying in the bed with Josephine and Charlotte where she 
had spent so many happy months at the peak of her passion 
and obsession for Charlotte. Now, however, she felt 
obliged to admit that Josephine was to be the centre of 
Charlotte's life and accept that it was indeed not a bad 
choice for her. The presence of men in their bedroom had 
made the room somehow less inviting. It reminded her too 
much of work to watch two men humping away at Charlotte, 
a penis in the arse while underneath another was deep 
inside her cunt. She had somehow lost her taste for 
male sex. It was good at work. It provided her with a 
living, and while she was being filmed she genuinely 
enjoyed having her orifices filled with rubbery but stiff 
organs of pleasure. However, she no longer felt that a man 
could provide her with quite the emotional satisfaction she 
craved. And as she found in her brief but passionate 
relationship with Aisha, not all women were necessarily 
going to provide it for her either. 

She concentrated more effort in her work and had taken 
the advice of her agent in promoting herself more actively 
in androgynous roles. She cut her hair short and boyish, and 
took to wearing shorts, shirt and tie which made her look 
like a curious kind of oriental school boy. She also took up 
the fashion of shaving her vagina every morning aware that 
this increased her marketability to the makers of films about 
androgynous sex. The actual sex didn't change much 
(although there was undoubtedly a greater demand for anal 
penetration and even back entrance finger-fucking) but the 
films had a tendency to be set in schools, gymnasia and 
holiday camps, and there was more male homosexuality and 
transsexualism practised than in most films she'd been in 
before.

It was on the set of Teeny Fuck Vacation that Susan met 
Salim. She had no idea who she was of course, but had 
been fascinated by the sight of her during the fuck shoot 
when she was being penetrated anally by a man in his fifties 
with a Kiss Me Quick hat and very knobbly knees. She 
stood to one side of the set looking very mysterious in her 
long dark dress that came down to her ankles and the head-
scarf that covered all her hair. Most women watching sets 
were either participants in the filming process or anxious 
porn starlets hoping to learn by watching the professionals 
at work. Salim obviously didn't fit into either category. 
Susan was quite surprised to be approached by the woman 
afterwards who introduced herself rather shyly and asked 
even more timidly if they could talk somewhere after the 
film. Salim was somewhat older than most of the women of 
her acquaintance, certainly more so than anyone who'd 
shared her flat, but Susan could tell that her face at least 
was very attractive and curiously not markedly Asian at all. 
Susan agreed to meet, more out of fascination than 
anything else.

They met again at an ice cream parlour nearby where over 
pistachio and almond ice creams, Salim told Susan about 
Amna and her obsession for Susan and how much it 
troubled her aunt. 

"She's totally obsessed by you. It's the only thing that 
seems to give her any pleasure in life. Otherwise she's 
so listless and apathetic. It's as if she doesn't care 
about anything else at all."

Susan could see the genuineness of Salim's plea and was 
astute enough to guess that there was a sexual element to 
Salim's concern, although she was not sure that it was likely 
to have been satisfied. She remembered Amna quite well as 
the funny little shop-girl who had taken an interest in fuck 
films and whom she'd helped out. She was a little surprised 
to learn that Amna had continued to work in the profession. 
Her feeling, and one shared by Aisha, was that the girl 
hadn't really enjoyed her time in Hot Asian Lovers, and 
would probably not wish to get involved in any more films. 
She remembered her tearfulness after one day's shoot in 
which Aisha and she had to help her to a taxi. Susan found, 
though, that she'd been in another fuck film, Corner Shop 
Cunts, and had been accepted for a role in Eastern 
Ecstasy. It upset her to discover that Amna had actually 
lost her virginity in the audition for Hot Asian Lovers. 
However, Susan couldn't see that there was really anything 
she could do and accepted that Salim had come to see her 
pretty much out of desperation. Amna was currently 
spending a few days with her family where she continued 
the pretence that she worked in a clerical capacity, 
despite the evidence of a somewhat better salary than 
most semi-skilled clerks would earn.

Salim took Susan back to her house and showed her Amna's 
bedroom with the posters and memorabilia all around the 
room. Susan felt both flattered and upset. It was 
undoubtedly a compliment that someone should find her so 
attractive that they would collect videos of her non-starring 
films, find posters of her in the fuck posture cliches so 
preferred by cameramen and search out magazines which 
had pictures of her in them. It was also quite frightening to 
see herself idolised in this way. She knew from her 
obsession with Charlotte, that it didn't mean that she was 
actually deified, but it did mean that Amna was expressing 
rather more interest in her than could possibly be justified. 
She was after all not a very unusual person and not really 
one of the world's most attractive either. Her assets in the 
fuck film industry had been more her lack of breasts, the 
slimness of her body and the enthusiasm of her lovemaking. 
Her one-time sexual problem where she could only make 
love to someone while being watched had been gradually 
overcome as a result of her lovemaking in the flat she now 
shared with Josephine and Charlotte. She certainly didn't 
deserve this kind of attention.

Susan felt slightly faint, so Salim thoughtfully took her 
downstairs to the living room. She had taken off her head-
scarf, but still kept on her thick dress. She spoke sadly of 
how much Amna's obsession with Susan had troubled her. 
How much she'd wanted to meet Susan to find out what she 
was like. And how pleased she was that Susan wasn't 
anything like as bad a person as she thought a porn 
actress should be despite the disgusting and unmentionably 
vulgar nature of her work. It was at this stage that Susan 
became quite clear in her mind just how far Salim's 
relationship with Amna had progressed. She took Salim's 
hands in her own, squeezed them gently and muttered kind 
words of comfort. 

At first Salim struggled ineffectually to release her hands, 
but she relented and let Susan's caresses become more 
intimate. She was evidently upset and Susan was quite 
a mistress of such situations. Indeed she found Salim's 
freckled face rather attractive and she enjoyed the fullness 
of the older woman's smile. She soon released Salim of her 
thick confining dress and was surprised to see just how very 
sexy her choice of lingerie was. This was a world of dress 
habits Susan had never known about before. Most women 
she knew of who owned such clothes wore them only in a 
professional context and would never wear such clothes 
otherwise. Here was someone who wore silk and satin, 
garters and stockings, for herself rather than for the 
stimulation of male libidos.

Susan released herself of her shirt and trousers in a few 
brief gestures and stood naked in Salim's clasp smiling 
lasciviously at Amna's aunt, aware of the flash of alarm 
burning across her face. Salim stood up, belatedly bringing 
her hands up to cover the breasts that Susan had uncovered 
earlier.

"We can't! You can't! I shouldn't! What if Amna...?"

"Do you know what Amna does every day at work?" 
smiled a nonplussed Susan, striding across to Salim and 
delicately pushing down her arms and removing the bra. 
"Don't you think she already knows only too well what I do 
every day at work?"

"Yes, but..." began Salim, but her protests were plugged by 
Susan's tongue which plunged into the woman's welcoming 
mouth and was pleased by the readiness and passion of 
Salim's response.

Susan spent the night in Salim's bed, enjoying a night of 
passion that lacked in technique but was compensated 
by the extent of Salim's curiosity. She could see that 
the relationship between Salim and Amna had not really 
progressed as far sexually as Susan was accustomed to in 
her relationships. Salim showed some reluctance and 
ineptitude in many of the activities Susan encouraged her to 
participate in. She had hardly considered the anus as an 
object of sensuality, for instance. Penetration even in the 
vagina had been limited to fingers and tongues, it seemed.  
There hadn't been anything like the passion and ecstasy 
which Susan was able to orchestrate and which after several 
orgasms left Salim drained and helpless. She lay collapsed 
on her bed linen, her face burrowed into the pillow and her 
bottom in the air with a smile of contentment on her face 
that even Susan had rarely seen before. 



XXX


Amna always felt that her best course of action was to 
retire to her own room when Aunt Salim invited her friends 
round. She felt sure that none of her aunt's friends would 
much enjoy the presence of a teenage girl, particularly one 
who now habitually spent her time in the house in the nude. 
Her nudity seemed quite natural when only Aunt Salim was 
there, but she felt that it wouldn't be quite right in front of 
her aunt's friends, even if they did dress in skimpy lingerie. 

Amna was sitting in the toilet, waiting for the shit she felt 
pushing hard against her anus to finally release itself. 
Recent exertions in the cause of erotic cinema had rather 
upset her excretory functions: making it sometimes quite 
painful to shit and sometimes tightening up muscles inside 
her that made her shits harder to achieve. Finally however 
the inevitable occurred and, dismissing all memories of the 
large man who'd been buggering her earlier today, she felt 
that merciful release she'd been striving for.

She stood up, flushed the loo, washed her hands and 
opened the door to the bathroom to be rather astonished by 
the sight of Fatima, one of her aunt's closer friends, who 
was standing outside in her stockings and silk. Fatima was 
relatively young, in her later twenties, and had apparently 
been married and divorced already in her life. Although her 
devotion to Islam was unquestionable, she always seemed 
rather more fun to Amna than some others of her aunt's 
friends who never addressed her in a way that made her 
feel respected. Fatima was, however, rather astonished 
by Amna's naked appearance. Her eyebrows were raised high 
and she gave rather an embarrassed laugh after noticing that 
she'd been staring at Amna's nudity for rather too long. She 
hurriedly rushed into the bathroom while an almost equally 
embarrassed Amna returned to her bedroom and the magazine 
she'd been reading.

Amna enjoyed the privacy of her bedroom even though she 
so rarely slept there these days. She liked the sense of 
having her own space where she could lie on the bed 
surrounded by images of her beloved Susan and where she 
could smoke the cigarettes that despite her aunt's 
disapproval she had recently taken up. Most of the other 
girls she worked with smoked. It eradicated some of the 
taste of semen and saliva from the mouth and it helped to 
relax muscles lower down. She'd also heard that it helped to 
reduce weight and this was something that she was 
beginning to be anxious about as she became more focused 
on her marketable assets in the fuck film industry.

She was rather annoyed when she heard a timid knock on 
the door and saw her aunt poke her head round.

"Are you all right, Amna sweetheart?" Aunt Salim asked.

"Fine! Fine!" said Amna aware of the faint aroma of 
tobacco but glad she'd stubbed it out several minutes 
before.

"Do you want to come downstairs to join Fatima and me?"

"Must I?"

"Oh, Amna dearest. It's just that Fatima was saying that it 
was so sad that you had to stay upstairs when she's visiting. 
She was saying that it seemed so unfair on you to be stuck 
up here all alone."

"I'm okay here!" Amna insisted, but felt sufficiently curious 
to put on the silk kimono her aunt had bought her and 
follow her to the living room where Fatima was sitting 
reading one of her aunt's woman's magazines. The article 
appeared to be something about sex and sanitary towels. 
Fatima smiled as Amna sat down.

"That's a lovely kimono you've got on, Amna," she 
complimented her friend's niece with a broad smile. "But 
Salim tells me that you don't normally wear quite as much 
as that. Normally you don't wear anything."

Amna nodded. What had Fatima and her aunt have been 
talking about? "A lot of clothes don't fit me so well. I've just 
been growing too big up here," she said indicating her 
chest.

"I'm sure you have! Can we see?"

"Sorry?" wondered Amna. What was her aunt's friend 
suggesting?

"Fatima's just wondering if we could see how much your 
breasts have grown," Aunt Salim elucidated. "Come on, 
Amna, you can't be too shy about showing her. After all 
you show your body to strange people every day."

"It's not the same thing!" Amna replied, but nevertheless 
she opened her kimono so that her breasts were revealed to 
Fatima. They were certainly getting larger, but Amna was 
beginning to think they weren't getting large enough. She'd 
already started asking other girls with whom she was 
working how their breasts had managed to be as large as 
they were, and although their answer that it was by surgical 
enhancement had at first troubled her, the idea was 
beginning to seem not so bad. Fatima was clearly quite 
impressed by Amna's breasts as they were.

"Your niece is so beautiful!" gasped Fatima. "I can see 
now why you're so very fond of her. Perhaps I can 
understand better how you can feel strongly towards her 
and not at all towards men."

"Amna is beautiful," reiterated Aunt Salim, standing 
behind her niece and easing the kimono off so that Amna 
stood naked in front of Fatima. "And so hairy too! Look at 
all this!"

Amna was feeling quite helpless but flattered as well as 
Aunt Salim and Fatima admired her body and her aunt took 
advantage of the situation to run her fingers over her body 
to Fatima's apparent approval. She also felt somehow that 
she was taken advantage of in a more basic manner; a 
feeling which rather grew as Fatima was shown and praised 
every facet of Amna's body that her aunt chose to point 
out. It seemed so inevitable that her aunt's tongue should 
soon join with hers and the two were caressing on the sofa 
with Fatima still looking on in apparent approval. Amna 
protested slightly when her aunt's hands strayed over her 
breasts and tweaked a nipple in her fingers.

"What will Fatima think?" she gasped, but her aunt had 
other ideas and engulfed her protests with a deeper kiss. 
She appeared even more emboldened and her hands found 
their way between Amna's legs and started stimulating 
Amna's clitoris. Aunt Salim gasped with the passion that 
was driving through her body. Amna could feel the ecstatic 
twitch of the muscles in her thighs as they gave vent to the 
low-level orgasms that her aunt had become quite adept at. 
Aunt Salim's clothes had somehow also disappeared, 
although Amna couldn't remember an occasion where either 
she or her aunt had actually removed them. Amna enjoyed 
the feel of her aunt's body against hers. It was so much 
better and more relaxed than the physical exertions she 
endured in the cause of making a living. But wasn't there 
something very wrong about making love while being 
watched by Fatima?

She pushed herself off her aunt to see what Fatima was 
doing and felt both disappointed and relieved to see that 
Fatima was certainly not where she had been sitting before. 
Perhaps she'd been so disgusted by her aunt's assault on her 
body that she'd left in a hump. Feeling more relaxed in the 
apparent absence of her aunt's friend she allowed herself to 
become more attentive to Aunt Salim's needs: swivelling 
her body round so that she could embed her tongue in her 
aunt's clitoris.

It was at that stage that she felt the presence of not one but 
two tongues playing around in her crotch in amongst the 
furry mass of pubic hair. She turned her head round and 
saw what she'd dreaded but had somehow known to be likely 
all along. There was the naked slim and light brown body of 
Fatima trailed over her buttocks, her fingers and tongue 
playing agitatedly in her crotch. Amna didn't know what to 
think. What did this willing sharing of her body between 
two friends mean in relation to her aunt's feelings towards 
her? If her aunt was happy for Fatima to make love to her 
did that mean she was viewed as just a sex toy and 
secondarily as a lover?

Fatima was however a somewhat better and demonstrably 
more experienced lover than her aunt, and Amna enjoyed 
the sex far more than any she'd had before either on the film 
set or previously with her aunt. She didn't want it to stop, 
as Fatima's fingers probed and explored while 
simultaneously stimulating her clitoris, anus or nipples. And 
when they eventually did stop, collapsed in a sweaty heap 
on the living room floor, faces flushed with passion and 
guilt, Amna knew that although she'd still not obtained the 
orgasmic release her new profession had taught her to 
desire, she would still be happy to return to the embracing 
that she'd so recently enjoyed. And, as it happened, it took 
relatively little effort for Amna to reinitiate events 
starting this time with Fatima's perky small breasts and 
the tiny well-formed toes at the end of her slim angular 
legs.

The following day, Amna wasn't that surprised when she 
returned home to her aunt's house after an afternoon looking 
round the shops to find her aunt and Fatima embracing on 
the sofa in the living room: tongues deep inside each other's 
mouths and hands probing the breasts and vagina. Amna didn't 
even really feel that jealous. Her career had by now reduced 
the effects of that, although it did cross her mind to 
wonder what her role in her aunt's sex life might now be. 
Perhaps, she thought in an unfocused way, she might be 
sleeping in her own bed tonight. It did annoy her though 
that she wouldn't be able to play the compact discs she'd 
just bought on her aunt's somewhat better audio system 
and would have to use her own somewhat cheaper and less 
impressive one.

She wandered along to her room, and threw herself and her 
purchases onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off 
her tee-shirt and lowered her jeans and knickers to her 
ankles and with a few energetic kicks tossed them across 
the room onto the loose pile of clothes where she kept most 
of what she chose to wear these days. She placed a 
compact disc in the machine, and gyrated to the music 
while removing the last few items of clothing she still had 
on. She always felt happy after shopping. All those hours in 
the boutiques and record stores, picking, choosing, 
comparing. And after all that, the pleasure of returning 
home and admiring the rewards of her labours. She took a 
cigarette out of the packet, tapped it unnecessarily on the 
side and lit it. She then spread the length of her body, front 
down on the soft down of her duvet, now much the worse 
for the cigarette ash and the odd burn mark, with a copy of 
Dream Girl, the teen magazine she'd bought from a 
newsagent. It was the usual sort of magazine she read: full 
of pictures of semi-clad boys rather more attractive than the 
ones who fucked her at work, interspersed with articles on 
contraception, menstruation, astrology and examination 
stress. She particularly enjoyed doing the questionnaires. 
Am I a great fuck? she posed herself, while awarding 
herself points in a questionnaire which decided for her that 
perhaps she wasn't a great fuck, although she wasn't really 
that bad.

She then heard a knock knock on the door. Annoyed, 
Amna jumped up. What could her aunt want now? Why 
couldn't she leave her be! She stubbed out the cigarette 
she'd been smoking; resolving to return later to the half-
inch or so that was left. She opened the door and was 
surprised to see Fatima, looking rather flushed in a full set 
of lingerie but missing her knickers. She seemed both  
excited and unhappy.

"Can I come in, Amna sweetest?" Fatima asked.

Amna nodded petulantly. What a drag! She tucked her 
magazine away, and rather regretted now stubbing out her 
cigarette. Amna didn't care what Fatima thought of her 
smoking. Her aunt's friend sat down on the chair opposite 
Amna, pressed her chin against the tip of fingers set in a 
praying position and smiled at Amna.

"Your aunt and I have been talking about your career..." 
Fatima began.

"It's a job. It earns me money. What's wrong with it?"

"Your aunt doesn't like it very much. But that's beside the 
point. My view is that you're not doing as well at it as you 
could be. Salim's told me about how much you get paid, 
and, if you don't mind me saying so, it sounds like 
chickenshit. All that fucking and you're barely earning what 
a high class prostitute gets in a single night. You could be 
performing in straight repertory theatre and be earning just 
as much. What you earn now might seem good, but you're 
not really paying the rent or mortgage you'd have to do if 
you weren't living with your aunt. Let alone the bills for all 
the utilities. My opinion is that you really are not 
maximising your potential earnings."

Fatima's view was uncomfortably close to one that had 
occurred to Amna when she was working on the set of 
Filipino Fuck Fun and felt that she was getting fucked 
just as much as her colleagues and getting nothing like the 
rewards they were. She thought that maybe it was because 
she was the only one who wasn't Filipino, but she knew 
that couldn't be the only reason.

"I'm a saleswoman by trade," Fatima continued. "I sell 
perfumery, lingerie, make-up, that sort of thing. But I've 
also sold computers, dictionaries, garden furniture and 
photocopiers. I know about selling. I know what it takes to 
get a product to shift and to maximise returns. What you 
need, Amna dearest, is an agent. And although your aunt 
isn't too keen to do so, I'm willing to act as one for you."

Amna sneered scornfully. "You're not going to do that for 
nothing, are you? There must be something in it for you."

"Well, yes. Ten percent initially. Rising to twenty, when we 
get things moving. But there's good money in fuck films. 
And I'm quite interested in getting a stake in it. Salim might 
hope that you'll grow out of it, but I don't see why you can't 
just make as much as you can from what you're going to do 
anyway. What do you think? I'm sure I can enhance your 
earnings quite substantially."

Amna sighed. "I'm not sure! I don't know what to think!" 
She looked across at a poster of her beloved Susan for 
guidance, knowing full well that none would be 
forthcoming. Fatima followed her gaze, and smiled in 
apparent approval. 

"She's a very pretty girl, isn't she? Are you a fan?"

Amna nodded sadly. "She's why I'm in fuck films."

"Oh you poor darling!" exclaimed Fatima, appearing to 
understand more than she possibly could from this brief 
exchange. She stood up and walked over to the bed. She 
lay down on it next to Amna, her long thin legs stretched 
out beyond Amna's and her satin supported breasts pressed 
against Amna's back. "You poor sweetheart!" She 
continued running her manicured nails along Amna's spine. 
She then, with a touch of boldness, put her hand between 
Amna's legs and brushed her pubic hairs. Amna made no 
response. She looked towards the poster of Susan, a penis 
deep inside her cunt and another probing at an angle into 
her mouth.

Fatima became increasingly bold and soon Amna could no 
longer feign indifference. She turned round, remembering 
the pleasure of their one previous time of lovemaking 
and pushed her tongue deep inside Fatima's mouth, 
visualising Susan as she did so. Fatima gasped deeply 
and vocally, pulled off her bra as she did so, briefly 
dangling it over Amna's naked buttocks and then dropping 
it onto the now crumpled copy of Dream Girl. Fatima 
was definitely a much more spirited lover than her aunt, 
Amna decided, as the two rolled over and over, more of 
Fatima's underwear being shed on the way, crumpling the 
empty plastic shopping bags and discarded magazines as 
they did so.

They had been making love for several minutes before 
Amna noticed her aunt standing by the slightly ajar door 
watching the two of them, mouth to genitals, hair between 
teeth. She looked as if she had been crying, and getting no 
pleasure at all in watching the two of them at play. Amna 
detached herself from Fatima whom she suspected had 
noticed Aunt Salim long before her and had simply ignored 
her. Fatima smiled at her friend.

"Fatty! How could you?" gasped Aunt Salim in a kind of 
sob.

"Sally! Don't worry. I'll be with you soon. Just wait. I told 
you that when I make my mind up to do something, I do 
it."

Aunt Salim nodded and carefully shut the door behind her, 
leaving Fatima and Amna engaged in lovemaking for 
several hours more. Amna found herself feeling much more 
strongly towards her slender lover, with the sharp angles of 
her knees and elbows, the round breasts rising so well 
formed from a chest in which her ribs could be seen (unlike 
Amna's which could never be distinguished except by 
touch). The feel of her perfectly formed nipples and the 
slight boniness of her buttocks. However, Amna wasn't too 
surprised, when after relaxing for several minutes in each 
other's postcoital embrace, Fatima collected up her 
underwear and left her alone for the rest of the evening. 

This was in fact the first night Amna had had at home by 
herself in her own bed for a very long time. She knew that 
Fatima and her aunt were sharing the same bed, and she 
knew that there was no part for her to play in their 
lovemaking tonight. As she nestled down with the last few 
minutes of Paris Grey booming from her speakers, she 
gazed at her favourite poster of Susan and reflected on her 
lovemaking with Fatima. It somehow made it easier for her 
to confront the following day when she was sure she'd have 
to endure yet more anal penetration from the fat Filipino 
who was the main star in her present production. Perhaps 
with Fatima's help she would gain more for her not 
inconsiderable physical pains.




 XXXI


"Emma! I love you! I love you! Emma! So much!" gasped 
Maisie in orgasmic pleasure, her body shivering with 
ecstasy and her voice peculiarly full-throated for one so 
young.

Emma grimaced. Although she was the object of her young 
lover's affection, it was obvious she wasn't the stimulus as 
the young boy pushed his erect prick in and out of her tight 
young anus. How could an orifice so small, but so 
beautifully pursed, allow such a large obscene thing into it? 
Emma wondered, lying on one side of her as Maisie 
crouched over, bum high in the high, receiving these 
insistent thrusts with such pleasure. 

Ever since she and Maisie had moved into the small house 
she had managed to buy with a mortgage based on her 
present and future earnings, their love life had taken a very 
peculiar turn which Emma didn't really enjoy at all, but felt 
incapable of complaining about. At the flat it had been 
mostly Josephine and Susan, but now it was boys she had 
met on the set or at school. Emma still avoided all 
contact with men, but she felt unable to deny her lover the 
sexual pleasure she so much desired and expected. It 
sometimes felt that Maisie's well-intentioned practice of 
never excluding Emma from her lovemaking added insult to 
injury, but she knew that in her own way it was somehow a 
tribute to the depth of her love for the woman who she 
insisted was central to her life.

Maisie had been enrolled, at some expense, at a single sex 
school which would cope with her career in sex television, 
to the extent of the flexibility with which it accepted her 
occasional day off for filming, and which had no difficulty 
with her habitual nudity. At least she would be nude, if only 
she didn't insist on wearing a large dildo buckled to her 
buttocks and waist which protruded rather oddly through 
her shorts or the swimsuit she wore specially adapted for 
the affectation. The school had a naturist policy, although 
not all the pupils were habitually nude, and some indeed, 
like Maisie, were rather dressing against the pure principles 
of naturism as Emma understood it or practised. Maisie wore 
her dildo proudly at school, caring little for the fact that 
it looked rather bizarre in a girl who was far from adult 
height and stretched proportionately rather further in front 
of her than it would in an adult man.

All the teachers were naturist however, but also practised 
the school's policy of not imposing any dress code on the 
pupils except in sports or physical exercise lessons. Those 
girls who so wished, and there were quite a few, could wear 
just as many clothes as they liked. Bizarrely, this was often 
in direct revolt against their naturist parents and their 
normal social set, the girls taking off their clothes when 
they returned home. 

Although there were no boys at Maisie's school, she and the 
other girls had no difficulty meeting them: presumably 
because they were attracted like flies to jam to the sight and 
sensation of so much young naked flesh. These boys 
invariably found their way into Maisie's bed and with very 
little difficulty inside her smooth vagina and occasionally 
her anus. Maisie made little distinction between her girl- 
and boyfriends, and often made love with girls from her 
school, an activity which Emma had less difficulty in 
understanding and no difficulty at all in participating in. 
Many of them were at least as beautiful as Maisie, though 
few had such luxurious curls and, to Emma's mind, such a 
beautiful combination of physical and personal 
characteristics. Emma quite enjoyed the comparison and 
contrast in these other young bodies to that of Maisie's, and 
felt rather less compunction in stretching the bounds of her 
sexual passion towards her slightly brutal tendencies (about 
which many had quite serious reservations)

One of Maisie's friends, Letitia, was a particular delight to 
Emma, although neither she nor Maisie had made love to 
her. Nor in fact had anyone else. Like Emma, she was 
proud to be a naturist; but a naturist who never took down 
her black knickers and preferred conversation to sex. She 
would chat for hours with Emma and Maisie, seemingly 
never worried about the way the two of them would 
enmesh their bodies round each other. She only objected 
when other people became involved. Letitia believed quite 
firmly that love was not something that could be shared, 
and often told Maisie so.

"Oh, Letitia, you're so boring!" Maisie exclaimed. "Why not 
join me and Emma? We can show you what love's really 
like!"

"That must be the greatest contradiction in words you can 
imagine!" Letitia argued. "It's one thing for you two to 
make love as lovers, and another just to have sex with any 
boy who wants to stick his willy up your bum!"

Emma found herself agreeing with Letitia, but she couldn't 
imagine a life now without the sex she'd got used to with 
some of Maisie's girlfriends and some of the women at 
the studio. She'd almost got used to being filmed making 
love to women on camera. She had learnt to blank out all 
thought of the prying eyes that were on her as she gasped, 
groaned and grunted while a sex actress, a sex tourist or a 
writer indulged on set in their mutually shared passion.

Maisie's adoption of a dildo wasn't for show alone. There 
were many occasions when she'd use it: quite often on 
Emma and sometimes with the girls she'd make love to, but 
curiously the most frequent recipients were the boys. There 
was a cruel streak in Maisie's lovemaking as there was in 
Emma's, and hers was most revealed by the way she liked 
to fuck boys in the anus while gripping their erect penises 
and massaging them to full erection. She said she had 
claimed more boys' virginities than anyone else she knew, 
quite happy with the trace of blood on her dildo after 
eventually withdrawing it from the battered and torn and 
quite inappropriate entrances she had so gleefully violated. 
Despite Emma's lack of feeling towards men, she felt quite 
sorry for some of them, who may have been virgins in the 
more strict sense of the word, who had not anticipated 
quite such a violent initiation service and often felt horribly 
abused afterwards. They would lie naked on the bed, 
feeling around the entrances to their bum, wondering what 
permanent damage had been caused and feeling no doubt 
rather discomfited by the fact that Maisie's yells of ecstasy 
had focused rather more on Emma than on themselves.

Emma occasionally visited Josephine and Charlotte, and 
enjoyed more than she ever had before Charlotte's 
tenderness and devotion. She loved Charlotte's 
uncomplicated love, although she accepted now that she 
was very much secondary to Josephine. She even 
understood why Charlotte was so keen on marriage to 
Josephine, although she shared Susan's scepticism of the 
point of taking up marital status while neither she nor her 
fiancee showed any intention of leading the monogamous 
life-style that was normally associated with such a state.

She was, however, disgusted at discovering that Charlotte, 
despite professing her lesbianism so vehemently, was 
having sex nearly every day with not just Josephine but a 
whole string of men with the express purpose of becoming 
pregnant.

"But you can't possibly know who the father is!" she 
objected.

"So much the better!" Charlotte replied. "I don't want any 
man laying claim on my baby. Or should I say our baby, as 
it will be the child of Josephine and me. Men aren't going to 
figure in our parenthood. I just hope it's a girl."

"But don't you care at all what the child might turn out to 
be like?"

"What matters is not the genetic parenthood but that the 
child belongs to both of us. I can't wait to be pregnant. And 
as far as I'm concerned, if I'm pregnant then Josephine will 
be the father."

"Just as you'll be the father, if I'm ever pregnant," remarked 
Josephine sweetly, but looking ever so slightly 
uncomfortable.





 XXXII


Fatima didn't believe in starting any endeavour without 
doing some research first, so she found her way to the set 
of Schoolboy Fuck Fun, where Susan was currently 
being filmed, to have a few words with an experienced fuck 
film star. She spent a long time preparing herself: applying 
blood red lipstick and choosing clothes that showed as 
much stockinged leg as was physically possible and which 
showed all but the nipples of her perky full breasts. She had 
no wish to be recognised in this present attire by anyone 
she knew (particularly from either the Asian or Islamic 
community) and wore a pair of very dark sun-glasses to 
disguise herself. She watched with some interest as Susan 
and others were being fucked by the male stars or 
themselves did the fucking with the dildos provided; but she 
didn't choose to reveal herself to Susan until the filming 
finished and Susan was preparing to go home.

Susan was dressed as she mostly did these days: a pair of 
shorts and nothing else to obscure her essential androgyny, 
especially the flatness of her chest. She wore a six inch 
dildo around her buttocks which thrust out grotesquely 
through her open flies and a pair of flat shoes. She emerged 
from the changing room by herself, looking somehow small 
and insecure. Fatima strode towards her, smiling and 
greeted her by name.

"How do you know who I am?" 

"My lover, Salim, told me all about you," Fatima explained. 
"I'd like to have a chat with you, if that's alright."

"Is it about Salim?"

"No, not at all! I want to chat about Amna. You know 
Amna, don't you? You introduced her to the sex film 
industry."

"Well, yes. I did." Susan blurted out, with an attack of 
guilt. "But I didn't know she was a virgin. And I didn't 
know she was obsessed with me."

"I don't blame you for anything, Susan. I've come to you 
for advice."

"Advice?"

"Yes. I've taken on the task of acting as Amna's agent. I 
just want to find out more about the industry she's working 
in. Would you like to join me for a meal?"

"I've got nothing else arranged. Where have you got in 
mind?"

"La Maison Declasse," Fatima suggested, mentioning a 
restaurant that was known to be both expensive and 
fashionable. Susan readily agreed and the two of them were 
soon sitting opposite each other ignoring the stares they 
were attracting from the other guests (particularly the male 
ones). Fatima kept on her dark glasses and smiled broadly 
at Susan after they'd ordered the first two courses.

"I just want advice. I really don't know a great deal about 
your industry. I've sold washing machines. I've sold lipstick. 
And I've sold encyclopaedias. What I need to know from 
you is what Amna's most valuable assets are and how to 
maximise their sales potential."

Susan mused over this. "Her best asset is undoubtedly her 
breasts. She's got a good pair of tits. All she needs is to 
improve them and promote them."

"Would surgery be the best course?"

"Undoubtedly! I can give you the name of a few good 
surgeons. Perhaps a bit of thigh enhancement. More pouty 
lips, maybe. She also needs to improve her physical 
technique. A bit of exercise, not only in making love but 
also to lose some of the fat around her stomach."

Fatima pulled out a small notebook and jotted down some of 
what Susan was saying: "Breasts. Thighs. Lips. Waist. 
Technique. What about her hairiness?"

"That's okay: although she ought to reduce some of it on 
her arms and arsehole. It's expected that she be a bit hairy. 
And her colour's a good asset too. Better to be too dark 
than too light."

The conversation continued in this form over the wine, 
food and accordion; and Fatima gradually moved the 
conversation around to Susan. She felt quite gratified to 
realise that even fuck film stars had worries. She learnt 
about her passion for Charlotte, her loss of feeling for sex 
with men and the feeling she had that she had no real lover 
herself, "excluding Amna, of course," she remarked as an 
aside.

It was inevitable that Fatima should be invited back to 
Susan's flat, and the two wandered along the street: Fatima 
nearly blind in the evening light but continued wearing her 
dark glasses despite the dimness and Susan attracting 
attention from the unsubtlety of her protruding dildo. 
Fatima felt a certain degree of alarm when she recognised 
Amna's brother staring at them, but was sure that he didn't 
recognise her at all and was rather more distracted by 
Susan's rather odd appearance.

The two of them went up to Susan's flat and as the young 
girl opened the door Fatima was rather alarmed to hear the 
unmistakable sound of loud and passionate cries of 
lovemaking echoing about the flat.

"It's only Charlotte and Josephine!" Susan explained, 
slightly opening the door to the living room where Fatima 
could see two men and two women engaged in very 
obvious fucking. Two penises were deep inside Josephine's 
lower orifices while Charlotte's tongue engaged itself 
furiously on the long erect lengths of them. Susan sighed 
slightly and closed the door.

"Doesn't it bother you slightly?" Fatima wondered.

Susan turned about to look directly at Fatima's sympathetic 
face. She nodded shyly. "I just wish Charlotte would show 
more affection towards me." 

Fatima put her arms around Susan's bare shoulders and 
pulled her little girl body close to her. Susan sighed again 
and applied her lips to Fatima's. The older woman hooked 
her thumbs around the top of Susan's shorts and eased them 
down while passionately licking Susan's teeth. She could 
sense Susan's professional skills as the small girl 
reciprocated by easing off her own clothes and directing her 
caresses where Fatima felt the greatest need. She could also 
sense Susan's desperation for affection and some of the 
girl's loneliness. She took command of the situation.

"Shall we have some wine and a chat first?" she suggested, 
producing a bottle from the bag she carried with her. "Then 
we can make love until morning."

"You'd like that?" Susan asked with some trepidation.

"Very much so!" said Fatima unfastening Susan's dildo and 
stroking her hand over the stubble of Susan's vulva. "Very 
much so!"

Susan's advice was not ignored, despite Amna's initial 
complaints. However, the first thing Amna was aware of, as 
she gradually regained consciousness after the operation, 
was a sharp pain beneath her breasts and a duller one 
below her shoulders. The second thing, as she opened her 
eyes, was the sight of her aunt and Fatima kissing each 
other passionately while they stood at the end of the 
hospital bed in which she lay. She leaned forward, but in 
doing so she felt the pain around her breasts more sharply 
and a most unusual dull sensation around nipples that felt 
strangely stretched. She groaned slightly and let her body 
collapse back onto the bed, attracting Aunt Salim and her 
lover's attention as she did so.

"She's waking up!" exclaimed Aunt Salim, guiltily pushing 
Fatima off her and rushing over to Amna's side wearing a 
long dark dress and with her hair gathered under a silk 
scarf. "How are you, Amna, dearest? How do you feel after 
the operation?"

"Operation?" wondered Amna, gradually recalling the 
circumstances which led to her being in the hospital bed. 
Her eyes scanned the brilliant white walls, the utilitarian 
metal furniture, the pushed-back screen and Fatima, dressed 
far more modestly than she was accustomed to seeing her. 
Except for the dark redness of her lipstick, and the blueness 
around her eyes, she was dressed much the same as her 
aunt: not a trace of hair free of her scarf and nothing but 
her hands and face otherwise visible under her green satin 
jelaba. "What operation?"

"The one for your breasts!" Fatima reminded her taking her 
hand in her own and squeezing it firmly. "Don't you 
remember?"

"Breasts?" asked Amna pulling up her arms and touching 
them with her dark fingers. She was naked except for a pair 
of white knickers and could feel the unfamiliar bulk of her 
breasts and enlarged nipples. "I had them enhanced, didn't 
I? That's right, isn't it?"

"It most certainly is!" exclaimed Fatima gently easing the 
cotton sheet down to Amna's waist so that she could see 
them more clearly. "The surgeon's certainly done a good 
job on them. They look much better."

Aunt Salim gasped. "They're enormous! And unnatural! 
Are you sure we've done the right thing, Fatty?"

"Of course we have," Fatima reassured her. "Don't you 
think, Amna? You've now got a beautiful pair of forty eight 
double D cup, darling. Your breasts will be the envy of 
everyone!"

Amna self-consciously explored the contours and the 
strange weight of them. Her aunt was right. They were 
enormous! And they felt so hard and firm! She sat up 
slowly and felt them slowly drop as she became less 
horizontal. "What do they look like? I don't look like a 
freak do I?"

"Not at all!" Fatima reassured her. "What do you think, 
Sally?" 

Aunt Salim seemed less certain, but she nodded passively. 
"They make you look very ... nice."

Amna cupped her hands underneath them and supported 
their great weight. "I'm not a freak, am I?" she repeated. 
"Is there a mirror I can look in?"

Aunt Salim opened her handbag and looked inside, while 
the more resourceful Fatima stood up and unhooked a 
mirror from the wall and brought it over to the bed. She 
rested it on the bed sheets in front of Amna so she could 
gaze at the whole of her torso. Her breasts were 
monstrous! Not the biggest she'd seen on the set, but 
amongst the largest. They were very round. Very firm. And 
much bigger than she'd imagined they'd be. She placed her 
hands under them and jiggled them up and down.

"I'm not sure. Are they really mine? Can I change them 
back?"

"Don't be silly!" laughed Fatima, leaning over and licking 
her nipples. "They're beautiful! You'll never want to change 
back. They're you! Just as much as your beautiful eyes. 
Your sexy mouth. And your welcoming vagina."

"I hope you're right!" reflected Amna, aware now that 
unlike having a haircut or a manicure this was one change 
of her appearance she couldn't easily reverse.

She left the hospital later that day, wearing a rather large 
shirt over her top and a pair of jeans. As she was led to the 
taxi by her aunt and her agent, she felt terribly self-
conscious as people stared at her, perhaps wondering 
whether she was pregnant. She felt a desperate need to feel 
her breasts, to reassure herself that she was all right, to feel 
once again the curious new contours of her body, but 
restrained herself until she arrived home. 

Fatima lay in bed with her for the rest of the day, 
masturbating her gently and massaging her breasts. Amna 
knew that at least one person loved her new appearance, 
but felt rather disturbed that her aunt was so shy of looking 
at her. In fact, she seemed to direct her gaze anywhere but 
at her breasts, and relegated herself to preparing food in the 
kitchen and tidying up the house. Fatima was much more 
enthusiastic. 

"This will mark the start of a much more prosperous film 
career!" she exclaimed with delight, nibbling softly at 
Amna's now almost permanently erect nipples. "We'll be 
able to double your rate to match the doubling of your 
breasts!" She stroked a finger over Amna's mouth. "Then 
we'll do the lips. Then the thighs. And perhaps there's 
something we can do to enhance your beautiful buttocks."

Although Amna was aware that these enhancements would 
improve her market value, she found her new breasts rather 
an inconvenience. Initially at least, it was very difficult for 
her to even leave the house. Partly this was to do with her 
continued self-consciousness about her enhanced figure. 
Everyone stared at her. Their eyes were focused only on 
her breasts and hardly at all on the rest of her. Heads turned 
as she walked along the street. People stopped short in their 
tracks as they walked towards her, and stared long and hard 
at the magnificent wealth of breast that was barely hidden 
at all under her shirt. 

The other reason was more practical. Not many clothes 
were made for women with her new enhanced figure - or at 
least those that did enclose her breasts were far from 
flattering. They either made her look pregnant or several 
generations older than she was. There were no dresses that 
looked even remotely attractive, and her breasts swelled 
out the contours of any blouse or tee-shirt. Fatima worked 
hard however to correct this. "You can't go to a film shoot 
not looking sexy, dearest," she said, while specifying details 
of dimensions to clothes manufacturers over the video-
phone. "We've got to get you some brassieres and tops 
which show your breasts to their best advantage."

Soon enough, Fatima's endeavours supplied Amna with a 
choice of tops that made no effort whatsoever to disguise 
the enormity of her breasts: pushing them up, maximising 
the cleavage and ensured they pointed ahead. They were 
also quite uncomfortable and Amna felt relieved when she 
could return home and pull off her top and lie around the 
house naked. Fatima clearly enjoyed this, and her 
lovemaking with Amna had become much more passionate 
whereas Aunt Salim became a rather more infrequent lover. 
Fatima relished every contour and every detail of her 
breasts, and chortled with delight as Amna described the 
difficulties her fresh assets had caused her.

"You wait," she said, her head squeezed between Amna's 
legs. "You'll soon see how much your breasts will enhance 
your career. I almost wish I had a pair like yours myself."

Amna restrained herself from asking Fatima why then it was 
she and not Fatima who had the burden of carrying them 
around with her.

Fatima's sex life had meanwhile become very complicated, 
she reflected, her lips sealed to Josephine's mouth and a 
penis deep inside her anus. Susan's lips flicked between 
Josephine's and Fatima's cunt, while the man fucking her 
was also delving his tongue inside Josephine's vagina. 
From the adjacent bedroom came cries of passion from 
Charlotte who was being fucked by a tall dark-skinned 
man with a hooked nose and a pair of athletic buttocks 
which thrust and thrust again into the deepest recesses of 
Charlotte's cunt, her legs high up and clutched around his 
waist. Fatima had got rather used to the easy promise of 
sex available at Susan's flat and enjoyed the attention of the 
men who had come with the promise of sex with the 
enfianced couple. She had always rather preferred a good 
fuck with a man to the more leisurely and rather more 
prolonged lovemaking she had become accustomed to with 
women. It hadn't taken her long to inveigle herself into the 
lovemaking routines at Susan's flat and rather enjoyed her 
new status as Susan's lover: one that the small oriental 
seemed to prefer for Fatima's very lack of wanting to 
commit herself whole-heartedly to it.

"It's so much better when there's no jealousy involved," 
Susan would say as the two shared the ends of a double-
headed dildo. "Aisha always wanted more from me than I 
could possibly offer. How can a sex actress ever be serious 
about a relationship?"

How indeed? mused Fatima running her tongue around the 
rearmost of Susan's molars and tasting yet again the 
sweetness of her spittle (so much nicer than the taste of 
nicotine that stuck to Amna's palate). She particularly 
enjoyed making love to Josephine whose affection for 
Charlotte was quite unfeigned, though she showed rather 
more eagerness than her fiancee for making love to their 
Muslim guest.

Amna was Fatima's protegee, however, and Fatima felt a 
powerful obligation towards her. Particularly with regard to 
improving her technique. It was not enough, she believed, 
simply to enrol the young girl in sex education classes 
where the girl was learning how to fellate, masturbate and 
fake orgasms convincingly. She needed much more 
personal tuition despite the fact that her agent always found 
it rather less than completely satisfying. Amna had not yet 
learnt to really enjoy sex. She was always somewhat distant 
from the intimate activity centred on her cunt or breasts. 
The latter still caused her anxiety (particularly with regard 
to what her family might think of them) and much of 
Fatima's lovemaking concentrated on trying to persuade her 
that her newly enlarged breasts made her much more sexy 
and attractive. Privately, Fatima wondered herself on the 
wisdom of the operation. Amna was so self-conscious 
about them that rather than parade them to her best 
advantage, she went out of her way to obscure them; 
although she was happy not to wear any clothes around the 
house.

"And your lips. They could be oh! even more kissable with 
some enhancement!" she tried to persuade Amna who was 
not inclined to disagree with her agent's advice. "And those 
buttocks! They could be so much more firm and delightful 
with such little effort!" 

Amna nodded, as she obediently bobbed up and down on 
the dildo strapped around Fatima's waist which thrust so 
deep inside her but stirred nothing more than the most 
vapid of responses. Fatima would chew Amna's clitoris, 
thrust two fingers deep inside her anus while fucking her 
from the front, nibble her newly enlarged nipples, and push 
vegetables inside an orifice while busily stimulating her 
vagina with a tongue. Amna dutifully gasped and groaned, 
but Fatima could detect the insincerity. She just hoped that 
all the expensive lessons and her own time-consuming 
personal tuition would eventually bring the young girl to 
more genuine orgasms, and that at the very least they 
would be satisfactory for the career she was planning for 
her.

She persuaded Amna to take regular and relatively vigorous 
exercise to trim her waist, build up the muscles of her 
thighs and enable her to perform more enthusiastically for 
longer on the sets of films. She supplied her with an 
exercise bicycle and some weights, and supervised her ward 
as she went through the regulation exercises, monitoring 
her progress with a stopwatch and a tape measure. She 
made no effort to discourage Amna from smoking although 
she personally abhorred the habit. She was aware that this 
depressed the girl's appetite and would hopefully wean her 
off the fatty and unhealthy food that she was still too 
inordinately fond of.

It was a strain on Fatima to continue her coaching of 
Amna. The age difference and outlook was undeniable. She 
really had no fondness for the loud electronic pop music 
that Amna listened to and got rapidly bored with the limited 
range of the girl's conversation on pop music, films and 
fashion. She also hid from Amna as much as possible all 
evidence of her own relationship with Susan, whom the 
young girl still idolised. It afforded Fatima some pleasure to 
sit and watch videos of Susan in the various fuck films 
Amna rented from the video library. She was able to 
compare Susan the fuck actress with the Susan she knew so 
very much more intimately. There was no doubting that 
Susan was a consummate star and showed off her assets (or 
lack of them) to very good advantage. Her ambition was 
for Amna to use her own assets (particularly her recently 
enhanced ones) to very much the same effect, but was often 
discouraged by Amna's lack of genuine taste for the 
profession she had chosen. Fatima unashamedly used 
Amna's idol as an object of emulation and hinted again and 
again that one of the rewards of a successful career in sex 
films could very well be the opportunity to make love to 
Susan. Hints which Fatima also believed she would do 
nothing herself to facilitate, and doubted anyway that Amna 
was truly to Susan's taste. Her oriental lover preferred more 
mature and certainly more passionate lovers than poor 
young Amna.

She spent most nights in bed with Salim whom she still 
thought of more as her best friend than as her lover. She 
knew that Salim rued the loss of the exclusiveness of her 
relationship with Amna and was more than a little 
uncomfortable with the idea of the three of them sharing 
mutual sexual experiences; although it was relatively rarely 
that Amna and Salim made love together with Fatima. 
Salim was quite passionately in love with Fatima and very 
fond of Amna, but aware that her friend for so many years 
had somehow changed the pattern of her sex life to her 
disadvantage. 

Fatima was undoubtedly fond of Salim, but she found the 
lovemaking rather uninspiring, especially when compared to 
the passion and ecstasy she found at Susan's flat. Salim was 
more tender and more contemplative in her lovemaking, 
unhappy with using anything other than fingers to penetrate 
her vagina and happiest with sensual rather than more 
physical activities. Fatima sometimes had to politely request 
that Salim cease her constant licking of her cunt, which she 
had started shaving following Susan's example, so that she 
could roll over and go to sleep. She felt embarrassed by 
Salim's frequent assertions of love, which she felt obliged 
to reciprocate only because she felt responsible for having 
seduced her friend's affection. However much Fatima enjoyed 
Salim's company as a friend, she felt that Salim lacked 
something quite critical when it came to sex. After having 
been spoilt by the sexual abandon of the oriental girl who 
was the real lover in her life, Salim's own approaches 
seemed so gauche and clumsy.

"Are you really so tired?" pleaded Salim, sitting up in the 
bed and smiling unhappily.

Fatima nodded silently and firmly, covering her breasts with 
the silk sheets. "Let's get some sleep, Sally dear."



 XXXIII


"I'm pregnant!" shouted Charlotte joyfully, running into the 
flat pulling off her overcoat as she did so and revealing her 
naked body underneath. "Josephine! It's official. I'm 
pregnant. And you're the father."

Josephine had only just relieved herself of the weight of her 
own clothes while persuading young Robert, (the man she'd 
invited back for the two of them) to drop his trousers and 
reveal the erect penis she was about to exercise with her 
lips and tongue. She let the purple mass of the glans fall out 
of her mouth and jumped up to greet her lover. She put her 
arms around Charlotte's shoulders and pulled her close to 
her while showering her face with kisses.

"That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed showing her joy in 
her lover's delight. "Absolutely wonderful! But I can't 
possibly be considered the father..."

"Who else can? And in my eyes only you can be considered 
the real father. I shall be the mother and what else can you 
be?" Charlotte noticed Robert sitting sheepishly on the edge 
of the bed, his penis fully erect and still moist with the 
traces of Josephine's saliva. "Oh hello, there. I'm pregnant. 
At last! All our hard work rewarded. The doctor said 
there was no doubt about it. We're going to be parents. 
You and I, Josephine. Parents! We must get married soon."

"We must! We must!" agreed Josephine, who despite her 
delight was more than a little concerned about what to do 
with Robert whose services seemed pretty well redundant now.

"Is Susan in? I must tell her the good news. She must know 
as well."

Susan wasn't in, although she arrived a few hours later with 
Fatima. Josephine was pleased to see that despite the 
ostensible reason for inviting Robert around (to assist in 
getting Charlotte pregnant) was no longer terribly relevant, 
Charlotte was so overwhelmed with happiness that it wasn't 
at all long until the three of them were indulging in as 
frantic and as single-minded a love session as ever before. 
Robert was clearly more than a little put out by the 
manipulative fashion in which he was used by the two 
lovers, but Charlotte still enjoyed his thrusts into her well-
oiled vagina while she delved her tongue deep into 
Josephine's mouth. He did not appreciate at all the way he 
was pushed to one side when Susan appeared, wearing just 
a dildo and a single-breasted jacket, with Fatima wearing 
nothing but her black silk stockings and stilettos.

"It's happened at last!" Charlotte announced to Susan who 
was still consumed in envy at Josephine's much stronger 
grip on Charlotte's affections. "I'm going to be a mother. 
And Josephine's the father!"

Fatima and Susan joined in the celebrations and took turns 
at being fucked by Robert who, however tired he was 
getting, was stimulated into life by the expert tongues and 
fingers of the four very voracious women: sometimes 
penetrating Fatima, sometimes Susan and most often of all 
Charlotte to whom the other three women always deferred. 
She had somehow gained a primacy of attention, and 
Josephine knew this wasn't merely to do with her being 
pregnant. For the only woman in the company who ever 
professed to be a lesbian she was also strangely enough 
the one who got the most unfeigned pleasure from being 
fucked by a man. As long as she was also having love made 
to her at the same time by a woman it didn't shake her 
professed preference for lesbian sex. It wasn't too long until 
Josephine was huddled into a trio of lovemaking with Susan 
and Fatima, while Charlotte rocked backwards and 
forwards under the constant, almost mechanical, thrusts 
provided by Robert, her legs high in the air, her hands 
gripping the edges of the bed and sweat running down her 
brow, over her shoulders and dripping steadily onto the 
sheets. All the while she observed Fatima's eyes roaming 
enviously towards the heterosexual lovemaking, her tongue 
deep in the rich smells of Susan's vagina and her anus being 
deeply penetrated by Josephine's fingers.

The news of Charlotte's pregnancy had to be spread. As 
soon as the lovemaking was over and Charlotte had 
recovered sufficiently from her spent passions, she was on 
the telephone to her parents whom Josephine gauged were 
not quite as overwhelmed with joy as Charlotte would have 
liked at their daughter carrying the child of one of an 
uncountable selection of men. "It doesn't matter who 
donated the sperm," Charlotte was explaining, her 
happiness slightly compromised, "the real father is 
Josephine." Her lover was touched by Charlotte's 
unswerving loyalty to her, although she had more than a 
little sympathy for the parents' lack of enthusiasm, 
particularly as she reflected on the decided coolness of her 
own parents towards even the notion of marriage to a 
woman. The unalterable fact was that there was no very 
easy way of tracking down the real father, except by 
genetic sampling. And that only if the man could be ever 
located: itself not especially easy in the world of sex 
actors.

The next to be informed was Emma, who was at home, 
although quite clearly Maisie wasn't. In the few words 
Josephine had with Emma it was clear that although the 
woman whom Charlotte believed still deserved that 
proportion of the affection not reserved for Josephine 
herself was not so much overwhelmed by happiness with 
what Charlotte considered as good news as somewhat 
upset and bitter by the absence from home, on rather more 
nights than not, of her own lover. Emma was at least  
supportive of her best friend, promising to come round 
almost immediately: a promise that no one doubted she 
would fulfil.

Emma was soon at the flat, sniffed disdainfully at Robert 
who was lying asleep on her old bed and greeted Fatima 
with a distinct lack of affection. But for Charlotte and 
Josephine she soon submerged her own feelings of 
bitterness, and the three women were soon embracing each 
other on the other bed. Both Josephine and Emma huddled 
around Charlotte's stomach and vagina, which was rather 
more notable for the smell of semen and vaginal juice 
than for any visible traces of pregnancy, although 
Josephine fancied that, through the taut muscles of 
Charlotte's stomach, she could feel a swelling she'd not 
noticed before. Susan and Fatima looked on from a 
distance: the oriental girl's face seeming rather tragically sad 
and her dildo quite ridiculous projecting from between her 
slim thighs; and her lover rather embarrassed and 
uncomfortable.

However, why should Josephine care? She smiled at Emma, 
whose face was inches from her own as Charlotte sighed in 
quiet ecstasy while her two lovers lazily engaged their 
attention around her lower regions. She looked up at the 
woman who had announced her paternity and felt 
overwhelmed by the strength of the passion and love that 
was projected. She felt thoroughly unworthy of such 
devotion, particularly as she was still hiding her own 
infertility and therefore inequality in the two lovers' baby-
making endeavours. A powerful wave of emotion rippled 
over her as she reflected on the commitment Charlotte had 
expressed to her: a commitment which went as far as was 
humanly possible in a homosexual relationship. A 
commitment which would soon as much encompass 
parenthood and marriage as any heterosexual relationship, 
and one in which she was so much more the equal partner 
than could otherwise be possible. She kissed Emma 
tenderly on the lips, and then pulled herself level with 
Charlotte's face. With unprompted and unfeigned tears 
coursing down her cheeks she nuzzled her face against 
Charlotte's and kissed her beautiful lips, eyes and cheeks 
again and again and again.

Life at the flat had certainly changed since the early days 
when Charlotte had shared the flat with only Emma and 
Harriet. Almost as soon as Harriett returned back from her 
extended tour filming Sex Abroad she made preparations 
to move into Isabel's flat and out of the flat for which she'd 
been paying the rent in absentia for so long: a rent the 
amount of which varied quite astonishingly as bewilderingly 
different numbers of women took residence there. She 
came back one evening to see how things were, and was a 
little astonished to find Charlotte and Josephine together 
making love in the living room, while in Emma's old room 
she found Susan and Fatima engaged in post-coital caresses 
with dribbles of viscous liquid still lubricating the dildo 
strapped semi-permanently around Susan's waist. Susan 
leaped up and kissed Harriett passionately on the mouth.

"I thought you were never coming back!" she exclaimed, 
admiring Harriett's trim body so brown after exposure to 
the tropical sun but as always restrained in a pair of shorts 
and a singlet. "And this must be Isabel, who you've told us 
so much about in your letters!"

She gestured towards Isabel, who was standing, topless as 
always in a sun hat and a long floral skirt down to her 
sandaled ankles, and tanned a golden brown herself. Her 
large firm breasts stood out in their full magnificence and 
even Fatima, so accustomed to Amna's own surgically 
enhanced breasts, found them rather a revelation. Isabel 
smiled at the slim oriental girl with the outsize dildo 
standing out incongruously from her middle. "Pleased to 
meet you," she said. "You must be Emma."

"No, Emma doesn't live here any more," Harriett remarked. 
"This is Susan. And I don't know who her friend is?"

"Fatima!" announced the other woman standing up with 
skin browner than Harriett's but not from any exposure to 
the sun. In fact she had never exposed any of her flesh to 
the sun, reserving her nudity for indoor sport. Even then 
she was rarely wholly naked, for she would wear, as she 
was wearing now, black stockings and rarely kicked off her 
stilettos. She stood up and extended a hand to Harriett. 
"I'm delighted to meet you!"

She kissed Harriett tenderly on the lips, and then turned 
round to face Isabel. "And you must be Harriett's 
director?"

"I would hope that's not all I am!" Isabel announced, 
examining Fatima's slim stockinged figure and the dribble of 
orgasmic juice that was visibly staining the seams of the 
stockings.

"I've looked forward to meeting you for so long!" Fatima 
continued, approaching Isabel and kissing her on the lips 
just as she'd just kissed Harriett. "And not merely because 
I've heard about you from Susan. I've long been an admirer 
of your work."

"You have?" asked Isabel, at once both flattered and wary.

Harriett addressed Susan. "How is the happy mother to be? 
How does Charlotte feel about being pregnant?"

"Why not let's ask her?" she declared, bouncing to her 
feet and pulling a short tee-shirt over her head. Harriett 
followed Susan as she wandered into the adjoining room. "I 
would say that she seems more delighted than I ever 
believed possible. You wouldn't believe how many people 
have participated in her endeavours to get pregnant!"

Harriett fancied that she could detect a trace of bitter 
jealousy in Susan's voice, but she dismissed it from her 
mind as she joined Susan with Charlotte and Josephine who 
were engaged in mutual oral sex. Charlotte's face was 
buried in Josephine's cunt, while Harriett could see 
Josephine's eyes above her tongue which was rubbing itself 
raw on her lover's pudenda. Josephine glanced up as 
Harriett and Susan entered, and saw them.

"Oh! Look. Charlotte. Look who it is!" exclaimed 
Josephine. 

Charlotte, with all too apparent reluctance, removed her 
face from Josephine's cunt and looked over her buttocks to 
see who it might be. Seeing Harriett, she gasped in 
delight, and the couple disengaged themselves from each 
other and stood naked in front of their flatmate, sweat 
sliding down their chests and onto their thighs. Charlotte 
pulled Harriett to her breast, hugged her tightly and 
showered her face with kisses. "I'm pregnant!" she 
announced. "I'm going to have a baby. And Josephine's the 
father!"

"Josephine?" wondered Harriett in genuine disbelief, 
looking at the supposed father's crotch to assess by what 
means she'd attained this apparent status.

Josephine smiled indulgently. "Not the father in the 
biological sense!" she explained. "Someone else (and we've 
no idea who!) has that particular distinction. But Charlotte 
says that as I participated in the conception then I have as 
much right to be considered the father as anyone else."

Harriett was genuinely puzzled by these assertions of 
paternity, but she dismissed them in her mind as being 
symptomatic of Charlotte's curiously obsessive personality. 
However, she was genuinely pleased that Charlotte had 
found a woman so willingly indulgent to her whims, and 
that the couple were so very much in love. 

"Have you brought Isabel?" asked Josephine. "We were so 
happy for you when you said in your letters that you and 
she had declared your love for each other. Had you been 
lovers a long time before?"

Harriett nodded. "Yes," she admitted. "For a long time, we 
denied our feelings. I'd never really thought I could ever be 
truly satisfied by a woman and Isabel had always believed 
that her sexual feelings for women were reserved for the 
camera. But then we realised that we were really and truly 
in love. It's been like a revelation for me. I never believed I 
could ever really love someone as much as I love Isabel, 
even though she's nearly ten years older than me!"

"Can we meet the lucky lady?" asked Charlotte. "She is 
here, isn't she?"

Harriett nodded, and escorted the three flatmates to the 
other bedroom where she was chatting amiably with Fatima, 
and felt that horrid pang of jealousy that she'd always 
believed was alien to her and had become so much more 
frequent recently. Whenever she'd watched Isabel making 
love with other people, especially when not on the film 
set, she asked herself how genuine her passion was and 
whether it matched that which she expressed privately. She 
would look at disgust at the dribbles of semen down 
Isabel's legs or on her breasts after she'd made love to 
one of her all too many male admirers. She even began to 
acknowledge that the sex she performed so frequently for 
professional reasons might perhaps be compromising her 
love for Isabel, however much she told herself that it 
was not the same kind of passion at all.

"So, if I introduce you to Amna, you will at least consider 
her," Fatima was saying to Isabel. "I assure you it won't be 
wasted time. She's performed in quite a few films now. 
Paki Fuckers. Oriental Bust Out. Asian Deep Cunt. 
And it's not just her breasts that are enhanced. Her lips are 
nice and full. Her buttocks are really voluptuous and 
bouncy. And she's keeping herself truly trim."

"I promise you I will," smiled Isabel. "But what I said is still 
true. As a policy I prefer not to deal with agents. I prefer to 
make my own decisions." She looked up at Harriett and the 
other girls. "Well, you never told me that so many people in 
this flat were performers in the sex industry. Not only 
yourself, Susan, Emma and Josephine, as you told me 
about, but Fatima here's an agent! I almost feel like I've not 
left the film set at all!" She wandered over to Harriett and 
pressing her enormous breasts against her chest, she leaned 
over as far as she could to kiss her on the mouth. "Don't 
look so sad, dearest!" she remarked, clearly detecting 
Harriett's discomfort. "Introduce me to your friends. Which 
one's Charlotte: the bearer of such good news!"




 XXXIV


Salim wasn't at all sure she liked all the changes that her 
lover had dictated on her niece. First, the breasts, now so 
unnaturally firm and hard; resisting all attempts of gravity 
to lower their profile. Then the lips now in such a firm 
unchanging pout which made her seem as if she was 
constantly ready for sex, but also somehow moody and 
sullen when she wasn't smiling, which was really most of 
the time. Next were the hips and upper thighs which, 
together with Amna's newly trimmed waist, gave her a 
much more pronounced figure, so different from the slightly 
pudgy girl she'd originally fallen in love with. Now Fatima 
had dictated that Amna should remove all trace of pubic 
and anal hair (quite a feat in itself) achieved with waxing 
and depilatory cream. As Salim's tongue roved over the 
smooth flatness of her niece's vulva, she found it hard to 
reconcile it with the lush growth of dark hair that once 
flourished there. She found it difficult to believe that this 
was the same vulva, the long hairy strands of which used to 
entangle in between her teeth.

Fatima preferred this appearance. It matched her own pubic 
smoothness, which Fatima also found somewhat new and 
disturbing. Why shed such a natural and really rather 
friendly and reassuring growth? She especially didn't like 
the sexual exercises which she insisted the young girl 
needed to further her career. Wasn't her own lovemaking 
with Amna sufficient? And even that Fatima did so much 
more roughly with the tools she had at her disposal. Was it 
necessary for Fatima to pretend to be a man: thrusting a 
dildo deeper inside Amna than all but the most well 
endowed man ever could? Salim was not at all enthusiastic 
about using such aids, and time and time again reproved 
Fatima when she surreptitiously tried to include them in 
their own sex life. Salim could live without them. Why 
couldn't Fatima?

Salim was even less pleased the first time Fatima invited a 
man to her house to practice practical sex with her niece. 
Did it have to be brought so vulgarly to her attention? She 
felt restricted in her own home, forced to preserve her 
modesty under a scarf and a flowing ankle-length dress: 
only her hands and some of her face at all visible. Men were 
not welcome company as far as Salim was concerned. The 
silk underwear remained hidden out of sight, even though 
Amna remained naked in her newly constructed body; so 
accustomed now to her habitual nudity that she almost had 
to be reminded to put clothes on when she ventured out of 
the house. Amna felt less comfortable in clothes than 
before. The new contours of her body were not designed to 
be hidden. Jeans squeezed uncomfortably tight over her 
broader hips and tee shirts were pushed upwards by the 
steady pressure of her breasts.

Salim was more disturbed to see Fatima, the woman she 
loved to distraction, make no attempt to present an 
appearance of even secular modesty in front of Robert. She 
wore nothing but her most lacy and slight underwear, and 
of course the black silk stockings and stilettos she so rarely 
removed. Salim blushed as the details of her nipple 
appeared so obviously in the outline of the brassiere and 
was aware that had Fatima not shaved her pubic region so 
smoothly it would almost all have been revealed on the 
fringes of her red laced panties. However, Fatima not only 
insisted on dressing so immodestly, but also that Salim 
should hide her natural modesty to the extent of watching 
her niece and this man fucking together on Amna's bed; the 
detritus of teen magazines, videos and compact discs 
cleared unceremoniously out of the way.

Somehow, watching Amna's cunt being penetrated so close 
and so physically was even less pleasant than watching it on 
video, as Salim had to do rather more often than she could 
care to remember. Fatima occasionally gave advice to 
Robert and Amna as to what they should do and how to do 
it, keeping her mind on the photogenic aspects of the 
physical act, ensuring that the thrusting penis and recipient 
cunt were on display at all times. Amna's large breasts 
swung up and down, back and forth with the stiff unrippling 
rhythm that the silicone dictated. Finally, after how long 
Salim didn't know and after the penis had thrust its way 
deep inside Amna's anus as well, Robert pulled out his 
erect and throbbing penis and with the assistance of Amna's 
tongue released spurt after spurt of semen onto Amna's face 
and chest. A long trail of viscous liquid dribbled down the 
side of Amna's nose, lightly luminescent against the 
darkness of her skin, and trailed several centimetres down 
below her chin. On Fatima's urgent prompting she 
pretended to enjoy it, smiling in apparent ecstasy and 
moaning in a way that sounded so utterly false to Salim's 
ears. Surely, the fact that Amna did this sort of thing on 
celluloid and acetate was enough.

But clearly not, as far as Fatima was concerned, who 
persuaded Salim to join her in applauding the success of 
Amna's lovemaking. "Bravo!" exclaimed Fatima clapping 
her hands. "Much better! One day you may even start 
enjoying it!"

Amna smiled foolishly as she wiped off the semen that 
wasn't already beyond recall from her face and chest, and 
crawled over the bed towards Fatima in the obvious hope 
that Fatima would complement the lovemaking with her 
own affection. To Salim's horror, it seemed that Fatima 
would at first, and in the presence of this strange man, as 
she removed her knickers and allowed them to drop to her 
feet. Salim's horror deepened, however, as it became 
obvious that the object of her sexual advances was not to 
be Amna, who appeared relatively nonchalant at the fact, 
but Robert.

Fatima crawled onto the bed, past Amna, and over to 
Robert's now limp penis which she nevertheless began 
coaxing into a new life with her lips and tongue. Salim 
covered her face with shame, but watched nonetheless, as 
Fatima took the growing penis into her mouth, while 
running her fingers up and down its length, pumping it into 
renewed vigour with each rhythmic caress, and its purple 
glans swelled to very much the size of Fatima's open mouth. 
Fatima smiled lasciviously at Salim while exercising 
Robert's member.

It was not at all long until that long penis was once again 
ensconced inside a cunt, but this time Fatima's, with Amna 
participating on Fatima's prompting by licking Fatima's 
clitoris or nipples. Although Salim rarely if ever saw things 
from a male perspective, she could see that Robert was in a 
very fortunate position in having two beautiful female 
bodies, the only ones that Salim had ever loved and who 
she would always love to distraction, wrapped around him 
and ensuring that his penis would not easily remain limp for 
very long. It particularly disturbed her that Fatima showed 
rather more true and honest pleasure in the lovemaking 
than Amna ever had. Her cries of passion were unfeigned, 
guttural and frequent.

Salim could only take so much of this. Despite her normal 
desire to please Fatima's every whim, she raised herself to 
her feet and was about to stride out of the bedroom to 
where she could more easily forget all that was going on 
under her roof. However, this immediately prompted 
Fatima, now wearing only her black stockings, her slim 
breasts hardly moving at all despite the rapid bobbing up 
and down of her body, to break loose of the lovemaking 
and run over to Salim and grasp her by the hand. Salim's 
face was flushed and there was a slight urgency in her 
expression. 

"Don't leave, Sally! Stay. It's your turn next!"

"My turn?" gasped Salim in sheer terror. "No. I don't know 
what you mean!"

Fatima pulled up Salim's dress with a sudden abrupt gesture 
to reveal her knickers and stockings. "Don't be so hasty! 
You can enjoy Robert as well!" A hand ran up the top of 
Salim's thigh and caressed her groin around the knickers.

Salim hesitated. Fatima had after all enjoyed making love to 
him. And she had felt rather left out of the proceedings. 
Perhaps in the company of the two women she loved, the 
only two lovers she had ever had, she could lose her 
virginity with regards to heterosexual love. It was, after all, 
a critical part of her that even into her thirties she had not 
yet expressed. She looked at Robert who was spread naked 
across the bed, his erect penis grasped by Amna's dark 
hand. She thought back to the only part of him that had at 
all interested her in the lovemaking, and that only because 
of where it was penetrated.  She mused on the length of 
engorged flesh, with its purple end and its hairy base. She 
could never have that enter inside her!

Salim shook her head shyly, kissed Fatima tenderly on the 
lips and continued on her way to the living room to read a 
book or watch television. There were some experiences in 
life, she decided, which were really not worth experiencing. 
Ever.

Fatima's efforts in promoting Amna's career pursued every 
possible avenue. She agreed to meet Isabel, who, on the 
appointed day, was sat in her office in the television 
station's main building. She was skimming through the 
pages of the professional sex media magazine she received 
free each week, contemplating the advertisements from the 
countless agencies who offered their sex starlets for the 
services of film, video, television or interactive software. 
Some of the advertisements were particularly lurid, but she 
had learnt to mistrust these when she was recruiting. The 
sexual adventurousness of the starlets was not really an 
indication of the quality of their performance, except in 
particular fringe aspects of the industry. She always 
professed a professional and competent approach to 
recruitment. She eased her large breasts down as she raised 
her wrist to glance at her watch. She was expecting to see 
Fatima and her candidate, Amna, in a few moments for an 
audition for a television series that Isabel was producing 
concerning Asian sexual practices. It was tentatively called 
Brown Cunts and Slit Eyes, but was likely to be 
modified to just Brown Cunts and Slits in deference to 
the all too vocal sensitivity of the Asian minority.

Fatima and Amna were dressed quite appropriately for their 
roles when they arrived. Fatima wore a green business suit 
with a short skirt that very nearly revealed the suspenders 
of her black silk stockings. Amna was totally naked except 
for a pair of stilettos on which she tottered in obvious 
unease and a heavy pasting of make-up. Isabel sat back in 
her chair and nodded approvingly as Amna twirled round 
on her heels revealing all she had to offer. 

The breasts were good, Isabel decided. There were never 
too many girls in the industry willing to enhance their 
appearance for the tit market. A good pair of breasts was 
always a good sales point, as she had found out herself in 
her days as a sex actress, and did wonders for a girl's 
career. True, Amna hadn't committed herself to the same 
extent as Isabel had when she'd surrendered herself to 
scalpel and silicone, but she really had no need to, seeing as 
her native assets as an Asian were relatively distinctive in 
themselves. Her lips were good as well. They made her 
look perpetually sexy, if a bit sullen. But then sullenness 
always attracted that proportion of the target audience who 
didn't like the idea of the girls enjoying their lovemaking 
too much. 

"The buttocks and thighs have been enhanced too!" 
remarked Fatima with pride, patting Amna on the bottom. 
"And she takes frequent exercise to keep her waist trim!"

"What about the crotch?" wondered Isabel. "Is she 
normally so hairless?"

"Not at all. Without depilatory creams and daily attention, 
she'd be so hairy you wouldn't believe! Amna's naturally 
hirsute to a prejudicial degree."

"Is that so? Some of the audience like that."

"I've done my research, Isabel sweetest," said Fatima daring 
a little more familiarity than she might normally do with a 
potential customer. "Hairiness is a turn off for the younger 
end of the market. Most successful teen stars keep their 
crotch at worst trim and spare."

Isabel nodded. That was certainly true. A lot of the 
potential target preferred the illusion that the girls were 
several years younger than they actually were, even when 
they were pretty young to start off with.

"Well, she's certainly good to look at," Isabel announced. 
"But what's she like when it comes to action?"

"Have you watched the videos I sent you?"

"The videos? Well, I had a brief look. I wasn't too sure, to 
be honest. She's not a natural, is she? It doesn't come from 
the heart. Or do you think otherwise?"

A flash of concern passed over Fatima's face, as if the issue 
which most worried her had been raised. She smiled 
broadly, however. "Amna's a young girl. She's growing in 
confidence and ability all the time. She has plenty of expert 
tuition from me and true professionals. She's able to 
convince even the most sceptical that she's having a good 
time when ..."

"You don't mind, - do you? - if I put your claim to the test. 
Appearance is very important. I'd say it was the most 
important feature of a good sex actress. But she has to 
perform as well. I've persuaded one of my male sex actors 
to give her a trial. Is it alright if I ask him in?"

Fatima had expected this. Much of her work and 
preparation over the last few weeks had been for this very 
moment. She knew that once a sex actress is accepted then 
the odd, or even frequent, lapse in performance is tolerated 
if her charisma as a star or a looker compensated for it. She 
had spent a lot of time persuading Amna to relax and to 
overcompensate for her genuine lack of interest in 
heterosexual love. Fatima nodded. "I'm sure Amna's up to 
the task!" she announced, squeezing her shoulder with a 
comforting hand.

Isabel nodded. "I'm sure she is." She picked up her phone 
and spoke to her secretary: "Ask Boris to come in."

Boris was a tall, quite athletic man whose long hair was tied 
into a ponytail and had several tattoos on his arms and 
torso. He pushed a confident hand through his hair, letting 
his earrings dangle in the slight breeze caused by this 
action. On Isabel's nodding, he removed his clothes to 
reveal a limp penis and a trim figure.

Isabel leaned forward over her desks, her hands cupped 
beneath the overhang of her enormous breasts. "Amna. If 
you could please join Boris on the couch over there in the 
corner and we'll assess your performance. Don't be too 
worried. I don't expect you to be at your best during an 
interview: I know only too well the effect nerves can have. 
Just go ahead and enjoy yourself."

Fatima knew that passion and love were not what Amna 
associated with making love to a man. To a certain extent it 
was almost better for her to view the exercise of fucking as 
a job rather than a pleasure. She watched with pride as 
Amna went through the motions she had painstakingly 
practised for so many weeks. First the fellatio and hand 
work: building up a firm and stiff foundation for later 
intercourse. She watched with relief as Boris's penis 
gradually swelled to its full nine or ten inches in length. It 
was soon firm and ready for action. Amna expectantly looked up 
to Fatima for advice at that point, and Fatima scratched her 
ear absently as they'd prearranged as a signal to say that 
she'd  judged Boris to be ready to penetrate.

It was at that stage that Amna positioned herself on top of 
Boris, his face behind her, allowing herself to be fucked 
again and again while facing Isabel and putting on the 
repertoire of expressions that she and Fatima had practised 
for so long. Isabel was not so easily deceived. She had 
worked too many years in the industry for that: both as an 
actress and as a director. Now, as a producer, she could 
see that most, if not all, of Amna's apparent sexual 
satisfaction was feigned. There was really no flush of 
pleasure on the girl's face and the only sweat generated was 
from exertion rather than ecstasy. But Isabel also knew that 
what mattered was not how the physical act felt to the 
actress but how it was viewed through the eyes of a 
television viewer who only saw those edited highlights that 
were deemed good enough for the screen.

Boris appeared to be taken in by Amna's performance, 
producing as much, if not more, seminal fluid as he 
normally did on the screen, which Amna allowed to spread 
over her trim waist and into her mouth. Isabel nodded her 
head as Amna wiped away the traces of sperm from around 
her mouth and nose.

"Well, Fatima, I think your little friend can consider herself 
employed," she announced with a broad grin, picking up a 
pen and the contract she'd had pre-printed in anticipation of 
the success of the audition.



 XXXV


"I love cocks too much!" Fluff explained to Amna with a 
broad grin. "I'm just cock-mad. I love them when they 
thrust into me, I don't care which hole. I love the feel of 
them on the corners of my lips. I love the piss and semen 
they produce. There's just nothing I don't love about 
cocks."

Amna was sure that that was true, as she laid back on Fluff's 
bed, looking around on the wall at the huge blown-up 
photographs of all the erect penises, many of them thrusting 
inside mouths and cunts. She had never seen such a display 
before. Fluff worked for the television station where Amna 
was now working, and her job was as a fluffer, an 
occupation she cherished so much that she'd even allowed 
herself to be named after it. She was the one who ensured 
that the men would always achieve full erection, and got even 
the tiredest penis to ejaculate over Amna in the final 
crucial shots that usually determined the success of a 
session. She had taken a shine to Amna, and soon 
established that she enjoyed making love with women like 
herself as much as, if not more than, she did with her male 
co-stars.

Fluff didn't bother herself too much with the filmed 
performances of the station, though she was always 
prepared to assist whenever her services might be required, 
or when it was necessary to make up numbers. Amna 
envied Fluff's skill and enthusiasm at lovemaking, whereas 
she was happiest when the whole business was over and she 
could make her way home. Fluff was only a couple of years 
older than her, which made her one of the few girls she 
worked with who she could feel really comfortable talking 
to. 

Fluff's enthusiasm for penises extended beyond her job and 
the selection of magnificent specimens photographed about 
her room. She enjoyed sex with men well beyond the call of 
duty, boasting that it was a bad day if she'd only had one 
cock inside her all day. Her enthusiasm extended to having 
a tattoo emblazoned across her face even though it severely 
restricted the range of roles she could take if she were 
ever to be serious about an acting career. It featured the 
pink, red and purple glory of an erect penis stretching from 
the corner of her jaw, where the testicles swelled about her 
neck, across her nose and cheeks on one side to climax in 
pinkish yellow globules of semen about her eye and onto her 
forehead. Nobody could be sure what Fluff's slim face was 
really like (though her nose was quite thin and short and her 
eyes sparkled grey-green), because nobody could look at 
her face without focusing on this tattooed penis. This 
wasn't the only tattoo on her body, though it was clearly the 
most prominent. There was an erect penis tattooed on each 
of her shoulders around her inoculation scars, and a floral 
cunt tattooed on her thigh. Her hair was shaved off totally, 
from her head as well as her cunt, but she enjoyed her 
appearance and most particularly the reaction it provoked.

"Blokes just get a hard on looking at me," Fluff said with a 
grin. "When I see their cock bulging in their trousers, about 
to cream the inside of their underpants, I just say to them: 
How about it? My cunt's yours. You wanna fuck me, you're 
welcome!" She spread her legs so that Amna could 
appreciate the slightly reddened exterior of her cunt. "How 
about you, Amna? You wanna fuck?"

Both Amna and she were naked. In fact this was a 
prerequisite for coming into Fluff's flat. "You're not getting 
past the fucking threshold, with these on!" she announced, 
when Amna arrived, lifting up her tee-shirt to uncover her 
enormous breasts. "I don't want anyone in my fucking flat 
wearing any clothes. You just take your fucking things off 
now, or you can just fuck off."

Amna always felt more comfortable naked anyway, so it 
wasn't long till her clothes were discarded and her nipples 
felt comfortable: free from the pressure of the cloth 
restraining them. Fluff's body was much slimmer than Amna's. 
Her wrists and arms were slender, and her legs though full 
at the thighs, were generally slim and tapering. Her breasts 
were not large, but Amna suspected, from their shape and 
the firmness to the touch of her fingers and the lick of her 
tongue, that like her own they had been artificially 
enhanced. 

It hadn't been too many minutes after Fluff had brought 
Amna into her bedroom that the two of them were engaged 
in serious sexual exploration, but Amna wondered what her 
friend meant by asking her to fuck her. Fluff noticed her 
quizzical expression.

"Don't get me wrong, sweetheart. I love women. I could 
have sex with women forever. But what they've not got, 
and what men do have, is a cock. I just don't feel like I've 
even been touched unless I've been properly fucked. Don't 
you ever feel like that?"

To be honest, Amna never did. Penises didn't really interest 
her. What they did between her legs was always somewhat 
distant from what she considered as satisfactory 
lovemaking. She knew she was supposed to enjoy it, and 
occasionally it troubled her that it didn't really, but she 
understood, not least from Fatima's enthusiasm and the 
films she'd seen with Susan that fucking with a penis was 
what most women actually preferred. "Have you got a dildo 
I can use?" she asked Fluff politely.

"Have I got a fucking dildo?" snorted Fluff. "What do you 
fucking think I am?" She clambered over the sheets of the 
bed in which the two girls had been lying, her taut slim 
buttocks behind her, and pulled open the door of the 
bedside cabinet. "Just have a fucking look at these fuckers!"

Amna bent over and admired an array of dildos, of all sizes, 
dimensions and colours. Fluff bent over and picked one out 
which was particularly realistic, with a half-pair of testicles 
affixed to their base. It was more than fourteen inches long 
with very realistic veins fashioned on the outside. 

"You strap the fucker on, and then just fuck me. Back and 
front, I don't fucking care!"

Amna examined it cautiously. It was larger than any that 
Fatima had ever used on her and substantially larger than 
any real penis that had ever been inside her. "I don't know. 
I've never used one before."

"Never fucking used one!" exclaimed Fluff, with genuine 
surprise. "Haven't you ever been fucked by one?"

"Well, yes! I've had it done to me, but I've never done it 
myself. Fatima uses one in her training, but Aunt Salim 
doesn't like them very much. I'm just not sure what to do."

"Would you prefer it if I fucked you with it?" asked Fluff 
tenderly.

Amna eyed it with some concern, and then glanced down at 
her shaven cunt. She wasn't at all sure she'd even be able to 
get it inside her. And wouldn't it hurt? "No. I think I'd 
rather..."

Fluff smiled. "I'll fasten it to you. You just get on top of 
me, and pretend to be a man. Well, not a real man. Not 
with fucking tits like yours. Just push your bum back and 
forth, like you do when you're on top in a fuck session, and 
I'll help get you going with my fingers. It'll be fun. You 
see!"

It surprised Amna just how much fun it actually turned out 
to be. She plunged the enormous phallus deeper and deeper 
into Fluff's cunt, which had a capacity way beyond her own, 
and followed Fluff's directions, as her lover put her fingers 
to Amna's cunt and anus, massaging and arousing her 
clitoris and anus, on occasion getting almost her whole 
hand inside Amna's cunt, and lifting her arse above her legs. 
A strange wave of pleasure communicated through her 
body. She was actually enjoying it! Fluff, too, seemed to 
enjoy it: gasping and groaning with the deep thrusts, a wild 
gleam in her eyes, her tongue drooping maniacally from her 
mouth.

"Oh! Oh!" cried Amna in ecstasy, forgetting herself. She 
threw herself down onto Fluff's bare breasts, the dildo still 
half inside her and three of Fluff's fingers deep inside her 
anus. "Oh, Fluff! Is this what it's always like for you?" she 
cried as she buried her face on her lover's penis-emblazoned 
face, dribble from her mouth intermixing with Fluff's saliva 
on the sharply defined contours of Fluff's tattooed semen 
spurt. "Oh! If only it was like this at work. If only it were 
always like this!"

Not everyone shared Amna's passion for Fluff. Salim knew 
she wouldn't like her even before they met. Amna's 
enthusiastic descriptions of her best girlfriend filled her only 
with disgust. Even Fluff's job assisting male sex stars 
achieve erections and to ejaculate disgusted her enough. 
The fact that she sometimes worked as a body double to 
participate in sexual activities the starring actresses either 
didn't relish or couldn't stomach didn't endear her any more. 
Why did Amna's friend have to be so vulgar? She didn't like 
the fact that there was now yet another rival to her niece's 
affections along with Fatima, Susan and, of course, the 
countless men and women who had sex with her on set (but 
somehow seemed much less of a threat).

Fluff's influence on Amna was immediately apparent when 
she insisted on wearing a series of grotesque penis-like 
dildos all the time, whether she was clothed or unclothed. 
She was just like one of those dildo dykes Salim saw in 
town, and of course a little like Susan was these days. 
Some of these dildos were absolutely monstrous. Salim was 
not particularly knowledgeable on this issue, but she was 
sure that very few men had penises nearly as long as some 
of the longer of Amna's dildos. One or two were more than 
a foot long! They were not always the same colour as 
Amna's very dark skin, which looked even odder in 
contrast. When Amna dressed in her brief tee-shirts or 
singlets, the dildo protruded incongruously through the flies 
at the front of her jeans or shorts. It was a gross 
encumbrance which she took with her always as she walked 
around the streets, going to work or travelling by train. 
Salim was appalled by it, but Amna stubbornly refused to 
ever take it off. She was proud of the obscenity of it. What 
must people think!

When they made love together or shared the same bed, 
which they still did most nights, even when Fatima was also 
staying and shared the bed with them, Salim would insist 
that Amna remove the horrible thing, and discard it from 
sight. No! she wasn't interested in having that monstrosity 
pushed inside her vagina, however moist and welcoming it 
might be. The very thought made her feel quite nauseous, 
and the fact that it superficially resembled a real penis didn't 
attract her in the slightest. Men had never attracted her, and 
their penises attracted her least of all. Besides, she wanted 
to retain as much as she could of her virginity. However 
much Amna, and particularly Fatima, tried persuading her, 
it was better by far to keep these things as far from her 
inner thighs as possible. She felt especially disgusted when 
Fatima and Amna played with them, strapping them to their 
buttocks and thrusting them deep inside each other. This 
was one game she had no intention of ever playing!

When Fluff arrived to visit Amna, announcing almost 
immediately on arrival that she couldn't stay long because 
she had made an appointment to visit a boyfriend 
afterwards, Salim's dislike of the girl was immediate and 
intense. It certainly didn't help when Fluff elaborated that 
the 'boyfriend' in question was someone she'd only met for a 
few minutes earlier that day. What Salim most disliked 
about her was, of course, her appearance. Although Amna 
had told her a little about Fluff's tattoos and habits, it 
somehow hadn't prepared her at all for the sight of her, 
naked within seconds of closing the front door to the flat 
behind her. Her face was totally obscured by the most 
ghastly tattoo. It was the full-size image of an ejaculating 
penis, totally disguising features which may have otherwise 
been ugly or pretty, but were now undeniably gross. 
Otherwise she was a skinny girl with very pale skin. Her 
habitual nudity quite clearly did not extend to sunbathing. 
A patch of light brown freckles covered her chest, and her 
short pubic hair was unkempt and slightly worn, 
particularly around the mouth of her vagina.

Fluff was immediately too forward, kissing Salim full on the 
mouth. She regretted that she was wearing only her 
lingerie. She should have kept on her scarf and gown: 
clearly she was giving the wrong signals to the slut. She 
pushed Fluff off, and coldly and politely greeted her. 
Amna, who appeared behind her, naked and with her 
favourite black fourteen-inch dildo strapped to her waist 
was much less reserved. Salim recognised Amna's affection 
and delight with not a little regret. What could it be about 
this repulsive whore that Amna preferred over her own 
beauty? She stood aside as the two of them embraced and 
almost immediately, Fluff's tongue protruded from the 
tattoo on her face, just below the shaft of the penis that 
stretched over her nose and upper lip, and plunged deeply 
into Amna's mouth. Salim sighed as she watched Amna's 
buttocks shiver with pleasure and her own tongue 
reciprocate Fluff's avidity, her gross dildo pressed against 
Fluff's slim waist.

Amna disengaged herself from Fluff and Salim examined 
her face with selfish alarm. She grinned broadly and her 
eyes emanated an unmistakeable passion and joy Salim had 
so rarely observed in her niece even in the most passionate 
of their lovemaking. Amna escorted her lover, with a hand 
around the tiny buttocks, towards her bedroom. With guilty 
curiosity, Salim followed the pair as they entered the room.

"You've got an awful lot of posters of the same girl!" 
exclaimed Fluff, regarding all the posters of Susan on the 
wall. "She's not one of your girlfriends, is she?"

Amna looked at Fluff a little sadly. She shook her head. "I 
just like her films. You must have seen them."

"I don't watch fuck films if I can help it. It's not like the real 
thing, is it?" Fluff walked towards a poster of Susan being 
fucked up the anus while she grasped the penis of a large 
black man. "I don't know what you mean by not liking 
cock, though. There's enough fucking cocks here! Not as 
much as on my wall, but enough of the fuckers!"

Salim hesitated in the hallway. She knew she wouldn't be 
welcome company, but she felt some reluctance in leaving 
her niece in the clutches of this vulgar little slut. Her 
language! However, Salim could see that her presence was 
probably not wanted when Amna dragged Fluff away from 
the poster and onto the bed beside her: and, if by chance it 
might be, she really didn't want to know. She discreetly 
closed Amna's bedroom door and retreated to the living 
room.

She sat down on the sofa, turned on the television and was 
unable to concentrate as she scanned through the countless 
television channels with the aid of her remote. All she could 
think of was Fluff and Amna together, enjoying each other's 
body, while she was excluded. The image of that repulsive 
tattoo on Fluff's face recurred in her mind. Didn't Amna 
find it as obscene as she did? Clearly not, she reflected, as 
all too soon she heard the distinct sound of Amna's voice 
screeching out over the noise of the television talk show 
she had tuned in. It sounded like pain but was almost 
certainly the sound of ecstasy.

Then she heard Fluff's own voice, slightly high-pitched and 
much more shrill, gasping out in pants of pleasure, 
accompanied by a steady rhythmic thump of the bed frame 
against the wall. There was also the distinct noise of one of 
Amna's more cacophonous and unpleasant records played 
at a rather louder volume than her niece usually inflicted on 
her aunt. The sounds went on and on, making it very 
difficult for Salim to concentrate on the talk show 
conversation. Reluctantly she raised the volume of the 
television to disguise the sounds coming from the bedroom, 
hooking her bare legs onto the sofa and stroking her long 
hair in distraction.

Eventually, and not too soon as far as Salim was 
concerned, the two girls' lovemaking came to an end, and 
some fifteen minutes later she heard them chatting in the 
hallway. "I'll have to leave now," she heard Fluff say. "I'll 
be late otherwise. I promised. And besides you know how much 
I like cock!"

Salim strained her ears to hear what Amna was saying but 
really couldn't distinguish a word. Then she heard Fluff 
again. "Yes, of course I'll be back. Yes, I love you. I 
fucking well do. Don't cry like that, Amna. I do love you. I 
don't love many people. And you're definitely my best. Yes, 
it's true! Don't fucking doubt me! I don't have to say it, you 
know. Yes, I'll definitely spend more time with you next 
time. All night. Then we'll fuck like there's no fucking 
tomorrow!"

Then the front door opened, shut and a strange hush 
descended on the flat, magnified by the fact that Amna's 
record had stopped playing. It was several minutes until 
Amna entered the living room, naked of course except for 
her monstrous dildo, which Fatima noticed with disquiet 
shone from a fresh moistness. Amna looked sad and happy 
at the same time and without a word rushed up to Salim, 
throwing her arms around her and nestling her face on her 
breasts. Salim gently stroked Amna's long hair with one 
hand, and held her around the shoulders with the other.

"I'm in love!" announced Amna after several minutes, not 
raising her face or looking away from the dildo on which 
her eyes were focused.

"With that slut?" asked Salim rather too automatically.

Amna started, and glared at her aunt. "Don't call her that! 
She's beautiful. You don't know her!"

Salim sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. But are you 
sure?"

"I think so. I've never been in love before. But I am now." 
She embraced Salim passionately. "She says she loves me. 
She says she's going to have a new tattoo with my name on 
it. She's wonderful. I love her. Oh! Auntie. Is love always 
like this? Is it always so painful?"

Salim gazed at her niece, whose own gaze was fixed 
vacantly ahead of her. "Yes, Amna. Yes. It is always 
painful," she sighed, knowing that she spoke more for her 
own passion for her niece than in answer to the question. 
"Love is the most painful thing there is!"



 XXXVI


Charlotte knew she had gained something of a reputation at 
work: a reputation not in any way improved by her pursuit 
of a man to father a child for Josephine and her from all 
the men at work who were willing to do so. Her announcement 
of her pregnancy and that Josephine was the father was one 
which prompted mixed feelings to her colleagues. Not all the 
men (especially those who'd had sex with her) quite saw it 
the way she did, and many of the women, especially the older 
ones, thought her behaviour at best odd and at worst 
promiscuous, sluttish and perverse. However, they expressed 
sympathy and joy in Charlotte's pregnancy, although as yet 
there was very little real evidence of it.

One girl who was rather more sympathetic and enthusiastic 
than the others was Enid, a girl in her first job and little 
older than seventeen. She had very set views with regards 
to naturism, which was her reason for taking a job as a 
clerical assistant in the office, and also to lesbianism, 
regarding herself very much as one, although she admitted 
to never having actually had such a relationship. Enid allied 
herself to Charlotte from the very day she started. Of all 
those working in the department she was the one who had 
the most obvious similarity in attitude and lifestyle to that 
which Enid aspired to.

"Oh! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed, holding 
Charlotte to her, and kissing her tenderly on the face. "It's 
just a shame that you had to have sex with men to have 
one. Wasn't that so absolutely ghastly. What did Josephine 
think?"

"Josephine participated as well. She had as much chance of 
being the mother as I. But now she'll be the father. She was 
there when the baby was conceived. She worked as hard as 
I did in making it possible. And it's only fair that she take 
some of the credit for it."

Enid picked up the framed photograph of Josephine that 
was on her desk, one of the few nude pictures of 
Charlotte's lover that were not associated with her 
theatrical career. She held it in both hands and chuckled as 
she examined it. "Josephine's so very pretty. You're so 
lucky! She's exactly the kind of lover I'd love to have. 
Doesn't she have such a darling smile? And she's a lesbian 
and naturist as well, isn't she?"

Charlotte smiled, pleased to see someone appreciating her 
lover so much. "Well, no. She's not really either. She likes 
men too, and she still has a lot to do with them in her job. 
She's also not really a naturist. She quite likes wearing 
clothes. She doesn't take her clothes off except when she's 
at home or when she has to as part of her job."

"Oh! That's a shame!" sighed Enid sincerely. "Still, nobody 
could be that perfect, could they?"

"As far as I'm concerned she's perfect as she is!" said 
Charlotte loyally. She took the photograph from Enid's 
hands and examined it with pride. She was indeed lucky in 
having a lover like Josephine. It seemed to her that their 
love just grew stronger and stronger.

"Oh, I'd love to experience love like that!" Enid sighed. 
"My flatmate, Hyacinth, well ... she's alright ... but she's just 
a friend. She's not a lover. It's not the same thing. You're so 
lucky. Josephine is so beautiful."

She turned towards Charlotte, a mournful expression on 
her face. "Why can't I have a lover like you? Will I always 
be lonely?"

Charlotte put a reassuring arm around Enid's shoulder and 
pulled her head onto her breast. The office was empty. The 
working day had finished and the cleaner was busy on 
another floor of the building. She had stayed late to finish 
some paperwork she had allowed to accumulate and hadn't 
expected Enid to stay late too. She suspected that the young 
girl had stayed on precisely for the reason of chatting to 
her, something which Charlotte actually rather appreciated. 
She often felt quite an outcast in the office. Sometimes, 
she reflected on her own foolishness in expecting her 
colleagues to share her attitudes and outlook. 

"You're very young. Opportunities will come. You'll see!"

"But how long will I have to wait?"

"I had to wait a long time, too."

"But you've got such a wonderful lover! Why not me? Why 
can't I have a girlfriend like Josephine? Someone to love. 
Someone who loves me. Why not me?" A small tear 
trickled from the corner of her eye, down her round 
freckled cheek and onto her bare shoulder. Charlotte 
brushed it out from her salt cellar and smiled 
sympathetically. It wasn't so long ago that her own feelings 
of frustration resembled those of Enid's. She knew only too 
well the pain of unrequited love, and still felt a pang when 
she reflected on Emma's preference for the flighty child that 
dominated her affections. Although nowadays her role was 
as Emma's confidante as she complained about her young 
lover's unfaithfulness, she still had the feeling that Emma 
would have been so much happier had she accepted 
Charlotte's love earlier. Charlotte sighed.

"Don't cry! You've got a lifetime ahead of you! You'll find 
someone. I know you will!" She smiled into Enid's pale blue 
eyes framed by a small round face that looked even younger 
from the severe short hairstyle she preferred and the 
smattering of light brown freckles that spread over her 
cheek, nose and onto her small perky breasts. 

"Oh! Charlotte! Say it won't be too long!" Enid wailed. She 
pressed her head hard onto Charlotte's chest, her sharp chin 
on the ribcage and a warm dampness trickled between the 
breasts.

"It won't be! It won't be!" reassured Charlotte, raising 
Enid's chin with her hand and facing her. She kissed her 
affectionately on the lips and was rather startled when 
Enid's hands grasped her by the back of her neck and thrust 
her tongue inside her mouth. The salty taste of Enid's saliva 
mingled with hers and, despite an initial reserve, a warm 
sensuous feeling overcame her and she returned Enid's 
inexpert kisses with her own practised ones. Enid gripped 
Charlotte tighter, her eyes closed, as she pushed and 
pushed her mouth into Charlotte's, her tongue exploring 
deep inside the internal contours of her mouth.

Charlotte had become too accustomed to lovemaking. It 
was such an integral part of her life. Sex with Emma, 
Susan, Fatima and all the men who she'd invite to her flat. It 
all merged into one sensual experience of which her 
affection mostly concentrated on Josephine. But Enid was 
such a nice young girl: pretty and affectionate. So obviously 
enamoured of her. She'd often observed the slight choke in 
Enid's voice when they passed in the corridor, the way her 
eyes wandered about, but focused again and again on her 
body and the short trimmed hairs of her vagina. Perhaps it 
was right to give her the love which she had so readily 
granted the men in the office and who had so much loved 
thrusting deep into her cunt while she caressed and kissed 
Josephine ever in attendance and waiting for her turn at 
penetrative sex.

And so it was that Charlotte reciprocated to Enid's youthful 
passion, stimulating her clitoris with her fingers, stroking 
and massaging her vagina, and soon plunging her tongue 
into its youthful recesses while Enid exercised her own with 
a passion and urgency she recognised from her own earlier 
lovemaking with Josephine. The two wrestled together over 
the nylon carpets of the office, knocking over the recently 
emptied wastepaper bin, banging Charlotte's head against 
the back of a desk, while a leg frantically pushed at the leg 
of a chair. Enid's dedication to the lovemaking charmed 
Charlotte who watched as she pushed her tongue deep into 
her vagina, nibbled at her hardened clitoris and sweated 
onto her outspread legs.

As the two of them huddled in postcoital embrace, sweat 
running down the nobbled contours of their spines, 
Charlotte wondered what she had let herself in for. Was she 
being unfaithful to Josephine? Was she complicating her 
love life with her work in an irreversible way? She looked 
at Enid whose eyes focused above her shoulder to the desk. 
She followed Enid's gaze to the photograph of Josephine.

"Oh! You and Josephine are so lucky!" Enid sighed.

Charlotte smiled. How could she be unfaithful to Josephine 
when Enid was as keen on her continued relationship as she 
was herself? Comforted by this thought, she took Enid's 
face in her hands and plunged her tongue once more into 
the welcoming red darkness of her mouth.

Enid's flatmate, Hyacinth, was a black girl who studied at 
the neighbouring Art School, where her specialities were 
life drawing and sculpting. She was even poorer than Enid, 
her allowance being very low and so too her grant. She was 
about the same age as Enid, but shared very little of her 
enthusiasm for naturism or lesbianism. However, the bedsit 
was very small and there was only one bed, which they 
inevitably had to share. She had thick black wavy hair, and 
mostly wore cut-off jeans, trainers and short slips, which 
revealed all her midriff and only just about reached to the 
bottom of her breasts. Sharing the same bed inevitably 
meant that she had to sleep with Enid's passionate warm 
body wrapped around hers, and this close intimacy naturally 
led to Enid being rather more adventurous with her slim 
naked body than Hyacinth might normally choose. 
Although it wasn't her preference to have a girl stroking 
and licking her shaven cunt, she found it pleasant enough as 
long as Enid understood there was to be no penetration or 
kissing. Enid reluctantly accepted these rules, although she 
so often tried to contravene them, which Hyacinth found 
amusing, but not really to be encouraged.

Hyacinth enjoyed all the attention her flatmate paid her. 
The breakfasts in bed. Her daily shaving regime, which left 
her shaven vagina the envy of all her equally shorn fellow 
students. And the companionship, which was so painfully 
sincere it almost hurt. However, Hyacinth had no real need 
for Enid's sexual attention. She already had several 
boyfriends at the college, mostly black like herself, although 
she wasn't overly fastidious with the race of any man she'd 
choose to fuck. She did, however, much prefer black man. 
Generally, there were possessed of better and larger 
penises, although she was aware that her sample of white 
men was not extensive enough to be a fair comparison. She 
much preferred dark skin, and, anyway, she had much more 
in common with their cultural background.

Enid was very accommodating with Hyacinth and her 
lovers, that was true. She would share the bed with 
Hyacinth and her current lover, whose buttocks pushed up 
and down as he thrust deep inside her cunt, her legs were 
tangled about her lover's shoulders and the bed violently 
shaking backwards and forwards. Although, many of her 
lovers suggested that Enid should join in, Hyacinth's 
flatmate was adamant that that was the last thing she 
wanted. She was happy enough to see that Hyacinth was happy; 
perhaps getting some of her reflected joy. Hyacinth was 
aware that not many girls were as obliging as Enid, and she 
had no fears that Enid would attempt to steal her lovers from 
her.

Hyacinth was aware that Enid didn't know nearly as many 
people in the town as she. She wouldn't, not being a 
student, living away from home and working with older 
people who, despite mostly being naturists, were not 
lesbians and not inclined to spend much time with someone 
so much younger and so eccentric. There was only one 
friend Enid had made, an older woman, Charlotte, who 
Enid was very enthusiastic about. She was also a lesbian 
and a naturist, but Hyacinth could see that Enid's affection 
was compromised by the presence of Charlotte's lover, 
Josephine, an actress currently performing in Country 
Girls are Hard to Love, which was on at the New 
Crucible Theatre. She also realised that it was more 
Josephine than Charlotte who most attracted Enid's 
attention, even though she'd never met her and had only 
seen the photographs that Charlotte was happy to show 
her and even lend her. Josephine was not a naturist and far 
from being only lesbian in her tastes. From the 
photographs, Josephine seemed relatively demure and 
modest, even without her clothes, which was a state seen in 
only a minority of the photographs.

"We must go and see Country Girls!" said Enid on more 
than one occasion. "I'd just love to see Josephine perform."

"But is the play any good?" wondered Hyacinth, who 
wasn't really much of a theatregoer. Indeed, she'd usually 
found plays either very confusing or very boring.

"It must be!" Enid insisted. "Or Josephine wouldn't be in 
it!"

Hyacinth accepted the twisted logic, but noted that 
Josephine wasn't really the leading performer. Her role was 
as a country lady in the early nineteenth century village 
where the play was set. She would, of course, be expected 
to have sex with one or more of the other actors, and as far 
as Hyacinth was concerned this would at least compensate 
for the boredom she feared would inflict her between sex 
scenes.

The New Crucible was a medium-sized theatre with slightly 
worn seats, but most of these were filled when the play 
began. Hyacinth and Enid sat together near the front in 
seats that were far more expensive than Hyacinth would 
normally have contemplated, but it was Enid's treat (one of 
so many her flatmate insisted on lavishing on her!), so 
Hyacinth couldn't really grumble. The play was a nineteenth 
century fuck story about a couple from the big city who had 
come to the country seemingly with only the purpose of 
fucking as many country ladies as they could. One of these 
was Josephine who in the first of the three acts managed to 
keep all her clothes on. These suited Josephine quite well, 
Hyacinth noted. The long dress, the high laced collar, the 
ringed hair and the tight bodice were well suited to 
Josephine's general demeanour and appearance. She played 
very well the role of someone genuinely shocked by the city-
dwellers' predatory sexual habits, blushing convincingly as 
she watched the two visitors fuck her maid who kept on her 
cotton stockings and her dress while being fucked from 
behind while the woman kissed her.

It was in the second act that the character played by 
Josephine was seduced and had sex with the man. This 
began with a sequence of fellatio, where she took the whole 
of his penis into her mouth and engineered it into a very 
creditable erection. As large a one as any of Hyacinth's 
black lovers, but then actors were often selected for this 
very attribute. Josephine showed her skills as an actress in 
remembering her lines between times of having the penis in 
her mouth and taking off her clothes with a shyness which 
belied the fact that this was something she was fairly used 
to doing in front of an audience, and had of course done 
many times before in the run of the production. It was then 
that the man, with the improbable name of Roger Ramrod, 
pushed his penis, hard and twitching, firmly into Josephine's 
trimmed cunt.

Enid found all this very exciting. Hyacinth glanced down to 
see that Enid had removed her knickers, which lay over her 
buckled shoes, and gently stroked her cunt with the hand 
that wasn't gripped tight in Hyacinth's own. Enid was 
stroking the perimeter of her vulva, her finger occasionally 
dipping inside where Hyacinth could see its moistness. 
Then, when Josephine and Roger Ramrod were unexpectedly 
joined by the maid, who was this time totally naked except 
for her stockings and a bow in her hair, Enid took Hyacinth's 
black hand firmly to her cunt, and pressed it against her. She 
smiled broadly at Hyacinth.

"Oh! Isn't Josephine wonderful?" whispered Enid. "She's 
all I imagined she'd be and more!"

Hyacinth nodded. She didn't really mind Enid pressing her 
fingers against her cunt. It did feel very moist and warm. 
She allowed Enid to push a couple of fingers deep inside, 
and tenderly kissed her flatmate on the cheek, noting with 
indulgent affection the flush of warm passion that spread 
over Enid's face. On stage meanwhile, Josephine and her 
maid were locked in deep embrace, while Roger Ramrod 
fucked both of them in turn. As Roger came to his climax, 
brandishing his penis like a weapon over the two of them, 
semen visible even from this distance as it spurted out on 
his two lovers, Enid had pushed all of Hyacinth's hand 
inside her, the fingers now rather sticky and smelly. This 
wasn't the first time that Enid had done this, though usually 
in the privacy of their shared bed, but Hyacinth could see 
that the true object of Enid's passion was not her but 
Josephine.

In the final interval, Enid tearfully embraced Hyacinth, 
while the tall woman next to her glanced at the two of them 
disdainfully but curiously. 

"I don't know if I can take much more of this play!" joked 
Hyacinth. "It's just wearing my fingers out!" In fact, she had 
found the play rather shallow on the whole. She'd seen 
much better acting in the cinema, the plot was a little dull 
and it was really only the fucking and Enid's response to it 
that encouraged her to stay at all.

In the third act, there was more fucking than in the first 
two, but Josephine's role, rather like her sexual passion, 
was mostly spent. Her only participation was fairly minor, 
and involved fellating the Right Reverend Randolph who 
was meanwhile being buggered simultaneously by the 
indefatigable Roger Ramrod. This disappointingly brief 
appearance didn't trouble Enid, who again took Hyacinth's 
hand to her cunt, pumping away at her moist, hot interior, 
until, with the Right Reverend over Josephine's face, Enid 
also came, panting with passion and ecstasy to the obvious 
discomfort of almost everyone around them.

"Oh! Hyacinth!" gasped Enid, leaning onto her shoulder, 
tears running down her freckled cheeks. "Oh! Hyacinth! 
Now I know what being in love is like!"

Hyacinth started. This was not a welcome change of events. 
"Not with me, I hope!"

"No, silly!" laughed Enid. "With Josephine! She's so 
beautiful, so talented, so wonderful. I love her. I love her so 
much! Charlotte's so lucky. Oh! I love Josephine!"

Hyacinth settled down. That wasn't so bad then, although 
she foresaw difficulties ahead. After all, weren't Charlotte 
and Josephine due to get married soon?




 XXXVII


Amna was sitting on the sofa in the living room when 
Salim entered after her long day at work. As always, she 
was naked apart from the curiously ornate ebony dildo she 
had strapped around her waist. It was Amna's current 
favourite and one she hardly ever took off. Salim had 
examined it at length and was impressed by the subtle 
pattern which formed the bodies of women writhing 
about: their hair and limbs making up the shape of the 
massive glans and the heavy round balls. It must have cost 
Amna quite a lot. 

Salim dressed herself as seductively as she could in an 
attempt to stimulate her niece's interest in her. She wore a 
bra that supported her round apple breasts but didn't hide 
her nipples, and knickers which had a very wide slit that 
slightly opened as she walked to reveal the short trimmed 
hair of her vagina. She greeted Amna who was distractedly 
watching a soap opera on the television where the main 
character, a young girl, was passionately kissing another 
woman who was nearly naked. She sat on the sofa next to her 
niece, put an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. 
Amna turned her head and kissed her aunt in return on the 
lips. She then turned her gaze back to the television where 
a young man was removing his leather jacket but keeping on 
his dark sunglasses.

Salim gently stroked her niece's long hair and studied her 
beautiful naked body. Her breasts had been further 
enhanced on Fatima's advice and her nipples stood up even 
prouder on the firm mountains of her chest. Her thighs 
were slightly fuller, giving her a more Negroid body than 
anyone with her genes would ever normally have. The 
crotch which had once been such an irrepressible tangle of 
dark hair was even smoother as the result of some 
hormonal treatment that Fatima had organised for her. 
What had happened to all that hair? Salim wondered. 
Distasteful as these 'enhancements' were to Salim, they 
didn't disturb or upset her as much as the small tattoo that 
Amna had etched on her shoulder, which portrayed an erect 
penis spurting realistic globules of semen and had the 
ornate letters Fluff  written on them. What had that slut 
done to her niece? Her parents would be horrified if they 
knew the depravities her ward had descended to. Not only 
was she a professional sex actress, but her lover was the 
most repulsive slut anyone could ever hope to meet. Not 
that Salim loved her any the less. She knew that it was as 
much to do with her jealous passion as her disapproval of 
Fluff which made her so unhappy with how things had 
changed. 

She and Amna still shared the bed together and still made 
love. And Salim still insisted that Amna should never use 
any of her sexual aids on her. But she felt that her niece was 
becoming more distant, as she so often made her passionate 
proclamations of love for her sluttish friend. If only they'd 
never met! Salim wished. If only their love could return to 
where it had been. The only compensation was that now 
she had Fatima as a lover too, although she was unhappy to 
discover that she shared her best friend not only with her 
niece (which was bad enough!) but also with Susan and 
many of Susan's friends. She agreed though to collaborate 
with Fatima in keeping Amna unaware of this relationship, 
believing as did Fatima, that Susan was best loved from 
afar. It still seemed ironic to her that Susan had slept with 
both Fatty and she, but not with the one who was arguably 
her greatest admirer, even now. Amna's room was still 
adorned by pictures of the oriental girl, and there could be 
few films in which she'd performed that Amna didn't 
possess in her extensive if also obsessive library of 
videodiscs.

Salim persuaded Amna to stroke her bared nipples and 
gasped appreciatively as her niece's fingers traced their 
aureate edges, while her own fingers gently massaged the 
length of Amna's dildo, enjoying the curves and contours of 
the carved naked figures. Perhaps she could bring Amna's 
mouth to hers and feel again the hot moistness of her 
tongue against her teeth. Perhaps she could enjoy again 
Amna's tongue pressing against her hard erect clitoris. 
Perhaps Amna could remove her gaze from the lovemaking 
on the screen and indulge in more real lovemaking. But as 
Salim's mind focused more on her fantasies she heard the 
front door draw shut. Who could it be? Her heart jumped. 
Could it be Fatty back from a day of promotion and selling? 
That would be welcome. Or could it be the only other 
person besides herself and Amna who had a key to the flat?

It was nothing but disappointment that Salim felt, as she 
saw the utterly naked figure of Fluff (She never felt the 
need to wear a dildo all the time!) standing by the door with 
that disgusting tattoo dominating her face. Amna jumped 
up off the sofa, at last taking her eyes off the television, and 
ran towards her lover. Salim sighed as she saw the extent of 
her niece's delight in Fluff's unexpected arrival. "Oh! It's 
wonderful to see you! What have you been doing?"

Fluff laughed. "Fucking! What do you think? I've just had 
two of them. They had the biggest cocks you've ever seen!" 
She took the lips of her cunt in her fingers and pulled them 
wide open to reveal her cavernous well-worn interior. "They 
fucked me so hard! Both of them together. It was fucking 
magic. Look! There's still a bit of come. It's real sticky! 
Have a taste."

Salim watched in horror as Amna did precisely that, resting 
on her knees, her large buttocks sticking out far behind, her 
larger breasts as much in front, her dildo in a position of 
permanent excitement, and her tongue licking and loving 
the taste of semen as it dribbled down Fluff's slender 
thighs. 

"It's still pretty warm!" she exclaimed.

"I came here as fast as I could," Fluff replied. "I just had to 
see you!  A perfect fuck is nothing without the one I love."

"Oh! Fluff! You're so romantic!" swooned Amna, taking 
the obscene face into her hands and pressing her lips against 
the mouth that seemed so incongruous beneath the long 
shaft of the tattooed penis.

Salim sat, ignored and hurt, as the two girls caressed and 
kissed each other and then went off together to Amna's 
bedroom. Within seconds, Amna's stereo was switched on, 
and Salim sat alone on the sofa as the insistent thump of 
her music intermingled with a slower equally rhythmic 
thump on the bed as Amna drove her favourite dildo deep 
inside her favourite cunt. 

Salim stared into space. She barely noticed the action on 
the television, where several people indulged in exactly the same 
activity as her niece was currently involved in, and her face 
reddening with humiliation, frustration and desire. She 
almost felt like leaping out of her seat and kicking that slut 
out of the door. But she knew in doing so that her niece 
would probably also go. And then there would be no more 
nights of pleasure together. Her life would become empty 
and no longer worth living. She sat, feeling the tears well 
up in her eyes and ease themselves out of the corner and 
down her cheek.

"Aaahh! Aaahh!" Salim heard from Amna's room. Oh God! 
They were! They were! She let loose an unexpected choke 
of pain and misery, and buried her tearstrewn face in her 
hands, small tears falling hot and moist onto her bare 
breasts and her mouth feeling as ugly and raw as she 
envisaged Fluff's cunt which she could yet again see so 
vividly in her mind's eye. Why couldn't it be her that Amna 
loved so passionately? What did that slut have to offer that 
she didn't?

It was then that Salim heard the door close again. Was it 
Fluff leaving? Salim wondered with hope. But no, the 
passionate cries continued as before. It must be Fatty. She 
raised her head to see Fatima in her stockings, tight dress 
and makeup, standing by the door and gazing at Salim 
sympathetically.

"I see they're at it again," she said, nodding towards the 
source of the commotion.

Salim gazed at Fatima through the salt in her eyes and 
nodded silently.

"They're terrors, aren't they?"

Salim nodded again, and then suddenly gave vent to 
another choked cry and let herself weep more openly. 
Fatima regarded her with affection.

"Oh, Sally! You don't like it do you?" Fatima said, running 
up to her friend and putting her arms around Salim's 
shoulders. "You feel jealous, don't you?"

Salim nodded. "That slut!" she gasped. "Why her? Why not 
me?"

"Don't think about it, Sally!" said Fatima, peppering Salim's 
face with kisses. "Amna's a young girl. She needs friends 
her own age. Friends who know about what she does for a 
living and totally approve of it. I'm sure she still loves you."

Salim tried to nod again, but her misery overcame her. She 
burst into tears again and buried her face on Fatima's 
breasts. "Oh! Fatty! I'm so unhappy. I wish I'd never ..."

Fatima kissed her friend and gradually eased off her clothes. 
"Don't regret anything, Sally! Whatever your niece does, 
you'll always have me. I'll never stop loving you. Whatever 
else, you're still my closest and dearest friend!"





 XXXVIII


Susan was enjoying her time off from work as she wandered 
about the shops looking for things to buy. She also 
enjoyed looking at other people, especially those who were 
most physically attractive: men or women, it didn't bother 
her. She didn't mind the stares that followed her, attracted 
by the large dildo protruding through the flies of her 
culottes and perhaps unsure whether or not it was real as 
there was so little evidence of her breasts under the baggy 
white tee-shirt she wore. There were other women like her 
wearing such dildos: it had become such a common sight 
these days. Almost too common, Susan reflected, but the 
affectation still had the potency to shock. One such woman 
she could see sporting a dildo was very dark skinned. Susan 
guessed she was African from the way her arse stuck out, 
restrained only by the leather strap tucked in between the 
slit of her round buttocks, but which supported a proud 
twelve inch ebony dildo. Susan felt aroused by the sight, 
and paused in her steps to examine the woman in more 
detail.

The woman was walking with another girl who Susan 
recognised as one of the fluffers she'd often worked with 
who wore very scanty clothes, nearly reduced to the 
dimensions of a bikini, but who attracted rather more 
attention than most because of the striking tattoo of an 
erect penis she sported over her face, which even detracted 
attention from her shaved head and shorn eyebrows. She 
wondered if she should approach her (Fluff, as she 
remembered she was known) as an excuse to get to know 
her black friend the better. Her resolve to do so was 
increased when the girl turned about slightly to reveal some 
monstrous breasts which her specially designed slip only 
just managed to hold. It was then that she recognised her as 
Amna, the Asian shop girl she'd introduced to fuck films, 
who looked somewhat different from the last time she'd 
met. What had happened to her breasts? And her face? 
Were her lips always so full? And her cheekbones so high? 
Had this something to do with the efforts of her agent, 
Fatima, who visited rather less frequently these days? 
Emboldened by her connections and driven by lust, she ran 
over to the girls and attracted their attention.

"Amna!" she cried. "I've not seen you for a long time. And 
with Fluff! How are you? How's your career progressing?"

Amna looked rather startled and made only a very garbled 
incoherent response. Susan belatedly remembered Amna's 
strange obsession with her that Fatima's friend, Salim, had 
told her about. That was a complication she didn't really 
welcome, although she reflected it would be somehow 
rather useful to her present aspirations. It was Fluff who 
answered.

"I've not seen you for a long time either. Not since 
Oriental Fuckers. When I had to stand in for you in the 
shit-eating shot..."

Susan grimaced. She remembered that scene. It was one 
she'd insisted that a stand-in would have to do. She hoped 
Fluff wouldn't hold it against her. However, there seemed 
to be no recrimination, and it took very little persuasion on 
her part to get the two girls to come back with her to the 
flat she shared with Charlotte and Josephine, knowing that 
neither of them were at all likely to be in when she got 
there. Amna was still very reserved, but Susan admired her 
body and learnt from Fluff just how much and how 
expensively it had been resculptured. She wasn't sure that 
she saw much need to do so much body remodelling; but 
then it was something she'd never needed at all in her career 
as her very lack of feminine attributes was what had most 
contributed towards the success of her career. She thought 
though that the extremes of depilation and breast 
enhancement that Amna had endured probably pushed her 
too far towards rather specialist taste and potentially 
limited her repertoire.

Susan still preferred to be watched and admired while 
making love, although she more often succeeded in 
enjoying unobserved sex than she'd once been able to. But 
with such new lovers as Amna and Fluff, she preferred to 
be watched by one while she indulged in sex with the other. 
Her affection for Amna was greatly increased when she 
volunteered to watch Fluff and her make love, once Susan 
had explained to them her preferences. So selfless! And she 
understood Fluff's own irrepressible sex drive so well. 
Although it was Amna's body she most coveted, it was by 
Amna she most wished to be admired, and so her own 
desires were to be the most satisfied. She knew that as Fluff 
licked, probed, fingered and kissed her, it would be Amna's 
eyes following the action and it was Amna at whom she could 
gaze while her cunt was being caressed, sucked and prodded.

It was easy to guess Fluff's own preferences from the 
penises she had tattooed on her face, her arms and the one 
on her back with Amna's name ornately composed by the 
semen spurting from the massive tattooed penis between 
her shoulder blades. With Fluff's prompting, she put her 
dildo on and thrust it deep inside Fluff's cunt. She arched 
back, slightly whining with pleasure as Susan thrust again 
and again, the images of Charlotte's male lovers flashing 
joyfully across her mind as her buttocks trembled and 
shimmered. She smiled deliriously at Amna who was 
watching naked with her enormous breasts and the full 
aureate glow of her sizeable artificially firm nipples. She 
grinned and Amna grinned back, but quite clearly with 
rather less enthusiasm. It flashed across Susan's mind that 
the girl probably wanted to be fucked herself.

She eased the dildo out from Fluff's cunt, moist with the 
girl's juices and with the sweat of their bodies shining in the 
light cast by the standard lamp. She whispered briefly to 
Fluff and crawled over her prostrate body to Amna, 
followed by the equally predatory Fluff. Her passion for 
Amna could no longer be sublimated. She threw herself on 
Amna's body taking an enormous nipple in her teeth, and 
sliding her fingers into the smooth, warm and ready 
gash of her cunt, and then plunged her dildo straight in, 
under the shop girl's own dildo which pushed hard against 
her slim waist. And then she pushed and pushed, watching 
Amna's body tremble with delight, drawing gasps of 
pleasure as it eased itself into the well-practised interior.

And finally, they slumped together exhausted, Fluff, Amna 
and she, their bodies pouring perspiration and a strong 
smell of vaginal juices permeating the air and pubic hair 
tangled in the teeth and a sour taste on all the tongues. Fluff 
laid back, a smile just discernible on the dense tattoo on her 
face: her small breasts and long nipples hard and excited. 
Susan leaned over Amna, and stroked her shoulder and 
breasts, while a finger probed idly around the entrance to 
her cunt.

"You've certainly come a long way since your first screen 
test, Amna," she remarked admiringly. "You really didn't 
have anything like the passion and abandon you have now."

Amna smiled sadly. She stroked Fluff's arm around the 
tattoo of an ejaculating penis. "It's all thanks to Fluff. 
Thanks to her I've learnt to enjoy sex."

"But surely Fatima's help and assistance must have 
contributed something as well?"

"Fatima?"

"Yes. Your agent. She's given you so much coaching. And 
she's paid so much attention to your body. You're so slim 
where it should be slim and so full where it should be so. 
Fatima's surely done her bit towards improving your sexual 
..."

"How do you know about Fatima?"

Susan smiled. "What don't I know about Fatima? She's 
always here. She's got more energy than most porn stars. 
And she likes it long and hard. Men or women it's much the 
same to her. Though I think it might be the men she likes 
best. The ones that Charlotte and Josephine bring her 
anyway. She's been the nearest to a girlfriend I've ever 
really had..."

"Fatima comes here?"

"Of course, she does. Didn't you know? Not so much 
recently, but still often enough. She's a good agent, I'm 
sure. She certainly does her homework..."

"With you? She makes love to you?"

"Well, what do you expect her to do?"

"How long's this been going on for?"

"Oh, months! Ever since she started being your agent. She 
talks about you ever so much. She really cares about your 
career. She's always ..."

"Fatima comes here. To your flat. And she makes love to 
you. All this time and ..." Amna suddenly burst into tears, 
pushed herself off Susan and Fluff and stood slightly apart. 
Susan became aware that perhaps there was something 
about this discovery that especially disturbed her. Was it do 
with all those films, videos and posters of her in Amna's 
room?

"Don't worry, Amna dear. It's not ..."

"Fatima! The bastard! The cunt! The traitor!" suddenly 
cried Amna, jumping up, picking up her few clothes and 
running off. Both Susan and Fluff were taken by surprise as 
she disappeared, the flat door slamming behind her.

"What's the matter? What have I said?" Susan wondered.

Fluff snuggled up to her, grasping Susan's dildo in her hand. 
"Nothing that shouldn't have been said a long time ago," 
she said with a smile, steering the dildo back towards her 
cunt.

Fatima's friend Khadija was a tall, statuesque woman with 
light brown skin, long black hair and dressed at the moment 
in silky lingerie as she relaxed in Fatima's flat and no longer 
needed the protection of her scarf and long dress. Fatima 
dressed much less modestly: her brassiere was cut so low 
that her nipples couldn't possibly be covered by their lace 
and her panties split across the crotch so that her crotch 
was revealed whenever she uncrossed her legs. She also 
wore the black silk stockings she so rarely removed, but 
had discarded her shoes. Khadija had become accustomed 
to her friend's new boldness: one which had become so 
much more pronounced since the day she'd first enticed Khadija  
into bed, and introduced her to a mode of pleasure-making 
she enjoyed so much more than the five minute fucks her 
divorced husband had been content with. It took some 
effort for her to accept the terms of their relationship, 
aware that her friend shared her body with other women 
and sometimes with men, but it scarcely lessened her 
appetite for Fatima's body.

The doorbell rang. Loud and insistently. It then rang again, 
this time for even longer. "Who could that be?" wondered 
Fatima angrily. "Do you want to answer the door for me, 
Khaddie dearest, and find out who it is?"

Khadija nodded. It would be unrealistic to expect Fatima to 
answer, dressed as she was, but it was only as she opened 
the door she reflected that she too was rather immodestly 
dressed. She hoped the visitor wasn't a man. She was 
therefore initially quite pleased to find that it was a girl: but 
what a girl! She was dark-skinned, but still unmistakeably 
Asian, with very large breasts under a strangely designed 
slip and, most grotesquely, a huge dildo strapped around 
her crotch, obscuring her pubic region.

"Where is she? Where's Fatima?" the girl demanded, 
pushing straight past Khadija and charging into the living 
room. Khadija was taken aback, but she recalled it was 
Amna, Salim's niece, whom she'd met at her house. The girl 
had changed, she was sure. Where had those breasts come 
from? And the lips and cheeks seemed different somehow, 
not to mention the round buttocks and the slim waist. 
Khadija wandered into the living room where a tearful 
Amna was railing at an impassive Fatima.

"So all these months, while I've been doing whatever you 
told me to ... while I've had my tits and arse pumped up and 
lost all my pubic hair ... you've been fucking Susan who you 
know I've always ... who you knew was the one ..."

"I really don't know what business it is of yours to dictate 
who I should ..."

"It's not just anyone. It's Susan. You've been deceiving me. 
While I've been idolising her, you've been fucking her. 
While I've ..."

"I've not been deceiving you, Amna. I've simply not been 
informing you. Do you tell me about everyone you make 
love with? Did you ask my permission to hang around with 
your prick faced fluffer girlfriend? I'm your agent, not your 
fucking ..."

"It's different. It's not the same thing at all! Susan's not 
anyone. It's because of her that I ..."

"And haven't I helped you in your career ambitions? 
Haven't I helped you in every way possible? The work-outs 
to keep you slim and fit. The diets I've persuaded you to 
take. All the care I've taken on your appearance ..."

"You've just made me into a fucking freak. Look at me! 
Look at these!" Amna impulsively pulled off her slip, 
revealing the breasts she had hidden so ineptly 
underneath. Khadija was impressed and slightly aroused by 
the size of them. So round and full and the nipples so well 
formed and precise. "I'm just a freak!"

"Of course you're not a freak!" smiled Fatima. "You're 
beautiful. Desirable. And it's thanks to me you are. What do 
you think, Khadija? What do you think of Amna's body? 
Don't you think she's beautiful? Doesn't the mere sight of 
her make you feel hot?"

Khadija was certainly aroused by Amna's body, but she felt 
no less guilty for it. However, it was obvious that there her 
body was unnatural. The breasts were almost too perfect, the 
contours were almost too exaggerated. Was this all the result 
of cosmetic surgery? she wondered. "Yes," she agreed 
breathlessly. "She's very attractive!"

"Don't you just want to touch those breasts? Take them in 
your hands. Caress them with your tongue? Don't they 
arouse you?"

Khadija nodded.

"You can of course. You don't mind, do you Amna? 
Khadija can feel the firmness of your bosoms. See what a 
woman you've become."

Amna nodded expressionlessly. 

"Go ahead then, Khadija. Don't feel embarrassed."

Khadija was embarrassed of course. The only woman she'd 
ever touched before was Fatima, and that was after a lot of 
persuasion and coaxing. But Khadija approached Amna, her 
hands stretched out in front of her, and felt the weight of 
the warm fleshy mounds in her palms.

"Put your tongue on them. Feel the nipples with your lips."

Khadija abruptly removed her hands. "Oh! I couldn't do 
that!"

"Why not? Amna wouldn't mind. She makes love every day. 
If not with Fluff or Salim or me, then with someone on the 
set of her fuck films. It's nothing to her. In fact, what she 
enjoys most is fucking with that giant dildo of hers. That's 
what she and her slut girlfriend are always doing. You'd like 
to fuck Khadija, wouldn't you? Push your expensive ebony 
thing up her cunt. Or not even Khadija. How about me?"

Fatima leaned back on the armchair and spread her legs. 
She parted the crotch of her panties to reveal the whole 
beauty of her vagina. 

"Look at this, Amna. It's all yours! It's hot and moist and 
ready. Go ahead! Fuck me! Get that dildo inside me. Pump 
away! You know it's what you like to do most!"

It was then that an abashed Khadija witnessed Amna 
approach Fatima, her dildo erect in front of her, and then 
with very little ceremony, plunge it straight into Fatima's 
vagina, which easily accepted it, and then pump her 
monstrous arse back and forth as she rhythmically 
fucked her friend. Khadija sank into another armchair and 
watched as the buttocks pulsed back and forth. Fatima  
grasped Amna close to her body, pushing her tongue into 
Amna's mouth, her angular knees spread apart. Part of her 
was aroused, but more of her was disgusted and rather 
jealous at her friend's explicit and wanton display of lewd 
lasciviousness.

"Don't just watch, Khadija!" Fatima suddenly ordered, 
clearly not so lost in her carnal activities as to forget her 
friend. "Join in too!"

"I couldn't! I can't!"

"Of course you can! Amna's not a girl to object. Look at 
her tattoo." She indicated Amna's arm on which there was a 
small tattoo of an erect penis with the word Fluff written 
along the length of it. "Amna enjoys it! She wants it!"

Still wearing her lingerie, and smiling foolishly, Khadija 
approached the two women. She placed her palms on 
Amna's warm sweating back and laid her head on the space 
between her shoulder blades. She felt the thrust of Amna's 
buttocks against her waist,  and closed her eyes. She then 
felt the attention of hands on her body, easing off her slip 
and knickers, caressing her vagina, stroking her proud 
pointed breasts. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't care 
who it was. The caresses were so warm, seductive and 
comforting. And then, as she'd half-hoped and half-dreaded, 
she felt the long dildo ease into a vagina which since her 
husband's last drunken fuck before they'd divorced was the 
first time it had been penetrated by anything so large or 
phallic. She surrendered herself to the caresses and tongues, 
feeling more satisfied and aroused than ever before.

She slightly opened her eyes, frightened to see the reality of 
what was happening to her, to find that it was indeed 
Fatima's familiar tasting mouth glued to her own and 
to witness Amna fucking ecstatically above her, the large 
breasts scarcely moving with each thrust high above her 
face, and Fatima's hands roaming about her nipples. She 
gasped and gasped and then shrieked, surprising herself by 
the intensity of the orgasm that racked her body.





 XXXIX


Emma took her role as Maisie's guardian at least as 
seriously as she took her role as her lover. She knew the 
importance of the child's education, and arranged a place 
for her in the city's premier naturist Secondary School. It 
was, of course, a private school (the fees for which Emma 
could now easily afford) and was attended by the children 
of the wealthy and well-to-do who wished their children to 
have as fully as possible a naturist upbringing. Not a few 
were workers in the sex industry like Emma herself, and 
several other children made a living in sex entertainment 
themselves, so Emma was sure that Maisie was in an 
appropriate environment. This was an opportunity Emma rather 
envied of Maisie. No such option had been made available to 
her when she was younger. Her parents wouldn't have been 
able to afford it, even if they'd had the slightest 
intention of encouraging what they considered to be 
their daughter's unhealthy obsession.

On those days when Maisie was not required to work at the 
television station, Emma would drive her to the school 
along with all the other parents and guardians. She would 
kiss her child lover affectionately whereas Maisie's reaction 
was somewhat less predictable. Sometimes, she took 
Emma's kisses almost on sufferance in the way Emma had 
always considered her own mother's acts of affection. 
Sometimes, she was very passionate, even taking the time 
to kneel down in front of her and tongue her vagina, in 
full gaze of her fellow pupils. Emma was very embarrassed 
about this, though she came to realise that this was to 
counter the similar attention one of the boys was making 
to his father's erect penis in an adjacent car. This might 
not be the excuse for lovemaking that Emma was most 
enthusiastic about, but she loved Maisie so much that she 
couldn't refuse even the smallest act of love. She felt 
quite helpless as the child's tongue licked around the 
slightly thickened mound of her clitoris and the gush of 
vaginal fluids washed in the saliva from Maisie's mouth.

One of Emma's early worries related to Maisie's teachers. 
She feared that they might take advantage of Maisie or the 
other pupils. The school had an atmosphere slightly charged 
with sensuality with so many naked men, women and 
children. But she was reassured by the school's ethical 
policies. The school had a very uncompromising attitude 
towards sexual liaisons between staff and pupil; however 
lax it was with regards to sexual relationships between staff 
which, although not exactly encouraged, was nearly 
expected and certainly very common. However genuine or 
mutual the affection there might be between a teacher and 
pupil, any sexual relationship resulted in instant dismissal: a 
sanction the headmaster regretted had had to be enforced on 
occasion. It was not thought appropriate for staff to have 
anything other than professional relationships with their 
wards, although the school had no expressed opinion regarding 
the ethics or otherwise of adult-child relationships in 
general. What a child did with adults outside its province 
of concern was neither one thing nor another. Although the 
staff may very well have suspected that Emma's relationship 
with Maisie might have a sexual element (and knowing Maisie's 
tendency to boast, such suspicions may very easily have been 
confirmed) there was no evidence of it when she attended the 
Parents Evenings, along with all the other naked parents and 
guardians.

Maisie certainly had sexual relations with other pupils. 
Emma might regret the extent of Maisie's boasting and the 
details in which she divulged them, but she felt unable to do 
anything about it. Censoriousness was not a role she could 
play without too much hypocrisy.  Much of this sexual 
activity took place at school, though how the teachers 
could remain oblivious to its occurrence was beyond 
Emma. It took place in the playing field, in the gym, in the 
playground, in the toilets and sometimes in the classroom. 
On occasion, Maisie invited schoolfriends back with her to 
their home, where no pretence at all was made of their 
sexual activity. Emma would sit in the living room listening 
to the gasps of sexual passion emitting from Maisie's room, 
coming either from her lover or from her schoolfriends. 
Although, she regretted this lack of exclusivity in her love 
life, it seemed somehow more appropriate that a girl as 
young as Maisie, whose breasts were still no more than the 
merest mounds and who had but the barest suggestion of 
pubic hair should enjoy herself with those much the same as 
herself. She refused all of Maisie's suggestions that she 
participate in her sex games, particularly vehemently when 
they involved the boys. However tiny and unthreatening 
their tiny hairless penises might seem, she had no wish to 
have one of them inside her, thank you very much!

Naturally, Maisie's best friends at school were those who 
like herself made a living from sex television or sex video. 
It was they who she had most in common and most likely 
to meet at the television studios. Thankfully, none of her 
soap opera colleagues attended the same school, as that 
would have presented Emma with rivals at school and at 
work. However, her closest friends had become very 
frequent visitors, often making love with Maisie in her full 
gaze in the living room or in the kitchen. "Oh, Emma won't 
mind!" she'd hear Maisie saying, while feeling a pang of 
jealousy as she watched Isambard, Priscilla or Eglantine 
stimulate her lover to passionate cries of ecstasy Emma 
was glad there were no neighbours to overhear.

Emma didn't want Maisie's studies to suffer as a result of 
her full sex-life and was extremely strict about her doing 
her homework. This was an effort which seemed to 
consume almost all her evenings at home, made particularly 
difficult by Maisie's attempts to divert Emma away from the 
task of coaching her through Mathematics, Geography and 
English Literature by stroking her vagina or kissing her 
breasts.

"Not now, Maisie!" Emma would say sternly, brushing 
Maisie's hands off her with regret. The sacrifices she made 
for her lover! "Let's try this again. If the sum of the angles 
of a triangle is always 180 degrees, what is the sum of the angles 
of a rectangle given that is constituted of two triangles."

Maisie was a bright girl however much she was easily 
distracted. "That's twice 180 degrees. Erm, 360 degrees. Must we 
do this, Emma darling?" She eased a hand between Emma's thighs. 
"Wouldn't it be much more fun if we made love? Eglantine 
never does this at home. She and her brother are always 
fucking together..."

"I don't care what Eglantine does with her brother," winced 
Emma, who found Eglantine rather attractive if a little 
simple. "We'll make love afterwards, if you like. But not 
until we finish all these exercises. If the radius of a circle is 
2, express the circle's area in multiples of pi."

"4 pi," answered Maisie hardly hesitating. "Oh this is boring! 
Wouldn't you much rather make love to me?"

"No!" lied Emma. "Now, what's the circumference of the 
same circle?"

"The same thing!" Maisie replied with a humph, removing 
her hand from Emma's legs and picking up her pencil. She 
put it in her mouth, and chewed it. "Duncan never has to do 
this with his mother. He says they fuck all night long. And 
with his father as well! His bum's ever so sore some 
mornings."

"I hope you don't let anyone put anything up your bottom!" 
Emma said sternly with alarm.

"So what if I did?" Maisie challenged.

Emma frowned. What sort of relationship did she have 
when she had neither the moral authority of a parent nor 
could demand the fidelity of a normal lover? How flawed 
was their relationship if there was so much open 
promiscuity and sex? "Just don't!" Emma said firmly. 
"Now, let's look at this question about cosines and 
tangents. Which of the two tends to infinity"

"Tangents," Maisie answered with a frown.

"What's the product of root 2 and root 8?"

"4," Maisie replied. "Oh, Emma. I'm sure you're trying to 
do the best for me, but why do I have to learn all this? I'm 
never going to need to know any of this in my current 
career. Or any other career I'm likely to have."

Emma couldn't deny the possible truth of this assertion, but 
she still felt that she would prefer her darling Maisie to at 
least have the possibility to change careers when she was 
older. "You just don't know what you might need to know, 
Maisie sweetest," she said, kissing her lover tenderly on the 
forehead. "Let's look at this logic problem. What does this 
mean?"

She pointed at the logical proposition. Although Maisie's gaze 
was now focused on predicate calculus, Emma's looked lovingly 
at the hollow in Maisie's bent neck. The inside of her heart 
melted, and only the greatest amount of will-power prevented 
her leaning forward and kissing her tenderly above the shoulders.



 XL


"Ohh! Ohhh! Ooohhh!" gasped Hyacinth as Edward 
pushed his huge black penis deeper and deeper into the 
welcoming liquid warmth of her cunt, her legs spread wide 
and her throat hoarse with the expression of her passion. 
She only gradually became aware that she and Edward were not 
alone in the tiny bedsit. Opposite her and watching her 
dispassionately was Enid. This didn't in itself trouble 
her. She wasn't expected to stop for Enid's benefit, and 
had no intention of doing so. It was with a start, and 
reluctantly removing Edward's wildly twitching penis, 
clearly just on the verge of releasing its load, that she 
realised that Enid wasn't unaccompanied. She curled up on 
the bed, modestly covering her shaved cunt with her hands, 
as she examined Enid's friend who seemed as unconcerned 
about her lovemaking as her flatmate.

Enid's friend was naked like her and a few years older than 
her. However she was also quite pregnant: not yet in the 
final month of pregnancy but her stomach was swollen and 
glistened in the light of the bright lamps. She smiled 
warmly at Hyacinth and also at Edward who seemed more 
embarrassed than anyone else, futilely covering his massive 
penis with his hands and blushing quite visibly.

"This is Charlotte," Enid announced. "My friend from 
work. I thought I'd invite her back to our flat, if that's 
alright, Hyacinth?"

"That's fine! No problem!" claimed Hyacinth, who 
nonetheless felt rather less than elated by the unwelcome 
break in her lovemaking. She climbed up from the bed, and 
pulled a large white sweater over her head which covered 
her down to her thighs and was decorated with the college 
crest. "Would you like some coffee, Charlotte?"

Enid's colleague mused thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind some 
tea," she remarked. "I hope you don't mind me interrupting 
you like this, but I've known Enid such a long time, and I've 
just never visited her at home before. She's so often 
suggested I visit. You must be Hyacinth. Enid's told me 
ever so much about you."

"Has she?" retorted Hyacinth, glaring at Enid with barely 
concealed hostility. However, she walked out of the 
bedroom to the small kitchenette which was hidden just 
beside the small bathroom/shower and toilet. Enid kissed 
Charlotte tenderly on the lips and chased after Hyacinth, 
who picked up a plastic kettle and was about to fill it with 
water from the tap.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you like that, Hyacinth!" pleaded 
Enid, who had clearly noticed the hostility on her friend's 
face. I just didn't know you had a friend with you. It's 
Edward, isn't it? He seems to be visiting so much more 
these days. Anyway, we knocked on the door pretty loudly. 
You must've just not heard us. And when we'd opened the 
door, it was too late. There wasn't anything we could do."

"You found time to take off your clothes," observed 
Hyacinth ruefully, as the water filled the kettle.

"That really doesn't take long. And they are so unnecessary, 
don't you think?"

"I'm not sure that's how Edward thinks," sniffed Hyacinth, 
clicking the switch on the kettle and screwing open a jar of 
instant tea. "He's not as used to seeing naked women as 
you are."

"Or you, for that matter!" giggled Enid, putting an arm 
around her friend's shoulder and kissing her on the cheek. 
"Anyway, what do you think of Charlotte? She's pretty 
nice, isn't she?"

"I thought it was Josephine you were in love with," 
remarked Hyacinth, sorting out the mugs. "It's she you go 
and see perform most nights. It's she who you go on about 
most. I thought your feelings were too strong to want to 
make love to her lover."

"What's this about making love to Charlotte?" wondered 
Enid. "She's just a friend."

"Are you sure?" questioned Hyacinth.

"You're not jealous of her, are you?"

"What a stupid idea, Charlotte! I'm just a bit pissed off: you 
barging in while I was just about to come to an orgasm."

"Oh, that's nothing, Hyacinth. You do that most nights 
anyway. And if not with Edward, then it's with me!"

Hyacinth couldn't really deny this, though she had no wish 
for Enid to think that her tolerance of Enid's sexual desire 
and her willingness to let Enid masturbate her meant that 
there was any emotional tie between them in quite that way. 
She made no reply as she put spoonfuls of granules into the 
mugs, covered them in boiling water and placed them on a 
tray. 

Enid was concerned for her friend's lack of enthusiasm. She 
put her arm around Hyacinth's waist, and rested her cheek 
on her shoulder. "Oh, Hyacinth! Sweetest! Don't take it 
wrong! I have so few friends, and Charlotte's such a good 
one. We have so much in common. She's a lesbian as well 
as a naturist, you know! There aren't many like us."

Hyacinth relented. She was being mean spirited. "I suppose, 
you're right," she reluctantly agreed, turning her face round 
and kissing Enid softly and dryly on the lips, but held her 
firmly so that she would recognise that this was no prelude 
to the more physical tenderness her friend was so 
enthusiastic about. She picked up the tray and followed 
Enid into the main bedroom, expecting to see Edward 
clothed and awkward, sitting on the edge of the bed, as put 
out by the intrusion as she had been.

What she hadn't expected to see was Charlotte lying on her 
back in the warmth she had so recently vacated, with 
Edward's buttocks thrusting backwards and forwards into 
the hairy cunt shadowed by her rounded stomach, a flash 
of light prominent on his smooth black skin. Charlotte 
certainly seemed nothing loath as she gave vent to short 
gasps of pleasure. And Edward was quite clearly 
enjoying the exercise himself. Only a tremendous exercise 
of will prevented Hyacinth letting the tray fall to the floor 
and the mugs spill onto the nylon carpet. She placed it 
shakily on the small table.

"I thought you said Charlotte was a lesbian!" she said 
accusingly to her flatmate.

Enid was almost as disconcerted as Hyacinth. She was 
leaning against a chair, watching the broad smile on 
Charlotte's face with an expression of as much disgust as 
fascination. "She is! She is!" said Enid. "But I suppose 
being a lesbian doesn't necessarily mean that..."

"Well, something must have made her pregnant! However 
versatile Josephine may be, I don't think she could quite do 
that. I don't think your Charlotte's any more a lesbian than 
me!"

"But lesbianism's an emotional thing. Not a physical thing. 
Charlotte's always said that she enjoys making love with 
men, but it's women that she loves..."

"The best of both worlds, I suppose," sneered Hyacinth.

"Oh! Sweetest! Hyacinth! It's not the same. It's not the 
same at all!"

"I don't care! Not only does your friend burst in on me 
while I'm being fucked, as soon as I'm out of sight she 
seduces Edward. I hate her! I hate you! I hate Edward!"

"Hyacinth! Don't say that! You know how much I love 
you. Men aren't the same. Believe me. Charlotte just 
doesn't see men like you do."

"I'm not sure about that," mused Hyacinth, as Charlotte 
and Edward's bodies writhed together: a torrent of semen 
dripping down Charlotte's thighs. "What's the difference 
between me and Edward, and Charlotte and Edward?"

Enid faced Hyacinth and brushed away a tear of chagrin 
that had dripped down her cheek. She kissed Hyacinth 
firmly on the mouth, and recognising the confusion her 
flatmate was in, allowed herself an intimate stroking of 
her shaven cunt, daringly pinching her clitoris with her 
fingers. "This is a much more complex world than you 
think!" she declared as she eased Hyacinth back onto the 
sofa, pulled her sweater off her full round breasts and 
eased a finger deeper into her still moist vagina.



 XLI


It was the start of Rosemary's first academic year at the 
university where she was to study Economics and General 
Business Studies. Although she'd long been looking 
forward to this day, it was also with some trepidation that 
she'd also started the hunt to find digs in the area. She 
scoured through the local newspapers and studied the 
student notice-boards, but it was the note in the 
window of an Asian newsagent's where she spotted the 
advertisement to flatshare Susan's apartment at what was a 
remarkably reasonable rate. She took a note of the number 
on her pocket PC, and dialled it on her mobile phone. The 
girl who answered the phone sounded very enthusiastic 
and very pleased that Rosemary was a student. Clearly, it 
had just not crossed her mind to rent out to students, 
despite the many colleges and universities in the vicinity. 

"But before I offer you space in the flat I'd better see you," 
Susan commented. "Some of the people who've shone 
interest have been ? well ? not best suited to sharing with 
me. Nor would they have got on very well with my 
friends."

Susan's flat was a great deal better appointed than 
Rosemary had imagined. How could it be so inexpensive? 
she wondered. It was quite high up in an apartment block, 
with a beautiful view of the city below. With some self-
conscious nervousness, she pressed the buzzer, wondering 
what this Susan might be like. She vaguely imagined 
someone in a smart business-suit with prim wire-framed 
glasses and hair tied back. What she didn't expect to see 
was a slim, not especially tall, oriental girl wearing only a 
baggy pair of shorts with a monstrous black, anatomically 
correct dildo protruding out of its fly and pointing towards 
her. The presence of the dildo didn't distress her too much. 
After all, quite a few of her fellow students wore them. It 
was the fashion. Although most students had less prominent 
ones, usually worn decoratively over tight jeans, or worn 
instead of knickers. No, the presence of the dildo was not 
the most startling feature about her. Nor the fact she was an 
oriental with no accent to speak of. Nor that her hair was 
boyishly short. Nor that she was topless. To Rosemary's 
eyes the most stunning feature was Susan's almost total 
lack of breasts. She'd never been aware that it was possible 
for a woman to be so conspicuously unendowed and yet show 
absolutely no concern about it.

Susan was also rather startled. As well she might be. Her 
conversation on the phone had prepared her for a young 
female student, which she'd rather welcomed. She'd been 
very worried about sharing with a man, what with her 
career in fuck films. But it had no way prepared her for a 
girl with such massively disproportionate breasts. 
Unsurprisingly it was the very first thing that announced 
itself to her, although Rosemary was otherwise still a very 
attractive girl, not at all plump despite the dimensions of 
her bosom, and dressed remarkably demurely for a first 
year student. Her long mousey brown hair flowed down 
over a shirt which was quite clearly not designed to be 
worn by a woman, and tied together as best it could to 
contain her breasts, which protruded bralessly from beneath 
her denim jacket and supported only by their own 
attributes as few bras could ever contain such full round 
breasts, the nipples of which alone were many times larger 
than her own tiny bust. She wore tight denim jeans and 
white trainers, and carried a flowery bag which clearly 
contained her books and bits and pieces. 

Rosemary smiled shyly, used now to the curious effect of 
her appearance. It was not one for which she was at all 
grateful. Most men, when they spoke at all, spoke to her 
cleavage and not to her at all. Women also treated her 
strangely, as if she were suffering from some cruel disability. 
Even her friends found it difficult to accommodate her 
breasts into their acquaintance without some nervousness. 
And she'd never yet found anyone brave enough to acquaint 
her with the pleasures of romance or love-making.

"I've come about the flat," said Rosemary at last.

It was only the following day that Rosemary moved into the 
flat, glad to no longer have to sleep in a sleeping-bag on the 
floor of a friend's room in the student halls. She hauled her 
bags across town, up the elevator to the twelfth floor and 
then into the third of the three spacious bedrooms in 
Susan's flat. As she undid her bags and laid the clothes tidily 
into the many drawers, she couldn't help exulting in her 
good fortune in having found such a luxurious well-
appointed room in such a nice part of the city. And with 
such a nice flatmate, or, really, landlady. When she'd got 
used to Susan's semi-nudity, the two girls had such a 
nice chat seated on the large leather armchairs in the living 
room. All around them were beautiful rugs on polished 
floor-boards, a massive television screen, beautiful painted 
portraits, still-lifes and landscapes, and classy modern 
furniture. Susan was ever so interested in Rosemary's life, 
her studies at the university and, oh, all sorts of things. She 
was so good at listening, and didn't seem at all bored as 
Rosemary prattled on. Oh! She was so lucky, thought 
Rosemary as she arranged her ornaments and possessions 
on the cupboards.

Eventually she emerged from her bedroom and wandered 
into the living room where she found Susan sitting on an 
armchair listening to some gentle jazz music and thumbing 
through a magazine. She looked up as Rosemary entered, 
and smiled at her. "I've ordered you a desk to study at," she 
announced. "It should arrive tomorrow and then you'll be 
settled for your studies."

Rosemary was only half-aware of what Susan was saying as 
she was slightly alarmed to see that Susan was totally nude, 
not even wearing the dildo which she'd come to think as 
being integral to Susan's appearance. She'd not often met 
naked women before, but Susan seemed totally 
unembarrassed by her appearance, so she made no 
comment. She gingerly sat down on another armchair and 
felt herself sink into its firm leather upholstery.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" asked Susan, standing up 
and revealing her full erect nakedness. Rosemary nodded, 
but her thoughts were focused on Susan's naked crotch 
which was shaved and made her look several years younger 
than she was. But such a beautiful crotch: so tidy and 
smooth against her flat taut torso.

Rosemary and Susan sipped the chilled Argentinean wine, a 
taste which was still quite novel to Rosemary, and 
continued their conversation from the previous day as if 
there had only been the briefest of pauses. They discussed 
Rosemary's choice of studies at university, why she had 
been attracted to the discipline of Economics and her 
school childhood.

"But how did you cope with the attention that your ... erm 
... assets must have provoked from your teachers and class 
mates?" wondered Susan.

"My assets?" queried Rosemary at the delicate phrasing.

"Your bosom, I mean. It must have attracted a lot of 
comment."

"It did that," admitted Rosemary blushing. "I've often 
wished for smaller."

"Not ones as small as mine, though," joked Susan, running 
a hand over her own very different bust.

"Well, at least you don't have the problems I have in finding 
clothes that fit," Rosemary retorted bitterly. "Nowhere can 
I find anything that's designed for my fuller figure. And 
what I can find is always designed for people very much 
fatter than me."

"I appreciate that," smiled Susan. "You have to wear  
shirts like the one you're wearing? Nothing else?"

"Dresses are horrible and shapeless. Blouses are the wrong 
shape. And even the biggest tee-shirt rides up my boobs, 
showing half my stomach."

"Well, you don't have to wear anything on top while you're 
staying here, Rosemary sweetest."

"Sorry?" wondered Rosemary, who wasn't sure she'd heard 
right.

"Don't be silly, Rosemary," smiled Susan standing up and 
placing her wine glass on the glass top of a table. "If those 
tops are uncomfortable, just take them off. It's not as if I'd 
ever object." She walked towards Rosemary, leant over and 
unbuttoned the top of her shirt. "Come on. Take it off. 
You'll feel much more at ease without it."

Rosemary blushed even deeper. "Are you sure? Won't I feel 
a little chilly?"

"Not in the temperature I keep the flat," Susan assured her, 
unbuttoning her shirt to the waist and parting it. Rosemary's 
breasts fell out with a kind of woomph and revealed their 
whole glory. Susan was amazed to see that natural breasts 
could be so naturally enormous. They were round, full, and 
dominated by nipples whose aureate dark pinkness spread 
around a taut sculptured centre which, in their 
unaccustomed bareness, stiffened to the size of small 
thumbs. Should I? wondered Susan momentarily. But she 
dismissed the thought, and eased Rosemary's blouse off her 
shoulders and onto the floor. Where it lay looking very 
sorry for itself in a white heap of shapeless linen on the 
intricate patterns of the Afghani rug Susan had bought on 
one of her more exotic film shots.

"Don't you feel so much better now, Rosemary?" asked 
Susan, with a sympathetic smile.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Susan returned to 
their conversation about life in the city and in Rosemary's 
own town as if her breasts had never once intruded 
themselves onto the discussion. This even though it was 
uncomfortably clear to Rosemary that Susan's mind  
continued to wander back to the breasts that heaved in 
front of her, and even without the hindrance of clothes 
weighed very heavily on her spine and brushed occasionally 
against her be-jeaned knees.

As the days passed, Rosemary started her studies, bringing 
back piles of dry Economics text-books on inflation, web-
enabled business, stock market fluctuations and business 
management. She would sit at her desk with the computer 
that Susan let her use, or on a chair by the window with the 
sun streaming in onto the turgid, polysyllabic prose of her 
chosen discipline. And bit by bit, she was persuaded to 
abandon more than just her top, revealing to Susan a firm 
body, with none of the folds of a plump woman, but blessed 
with thighs and knees of appropriate proportion, and a 
waist which curved in enough to give her sufficient contour 
for a woman of much smaller mammary dimension. Her 
unviolated vagina had a bush of brown hair which faded 
well into her slightly olive skin. But after a while it was 
Rosemary's face that Susan most fell in love with. Her large 
brown eyes, her slightly turned-up nose and a beautiful 
toothy smile that stretched her seductive thick lips.

So, it was not at all surprising to Susan, nor to anyone who 
knew her, that she and Rosemary found themselves 
together in Susan's large bed one evening after slightly 
more glasses of wine than usual; even though it was 
something that clearly took Rosemary by surprise. This was 
not what she thought sharing a flat was about. Sharing a 
bed, especially with a woman, had never been on her 
agenda when she was looking for digs. But she found it 
very pleasant, perhaps, to her surprise, more than she'd 
imagined, although her new-found proclivity also alarmed 
her. What would her friends think? What would her fellow 
students think? And even worse, what would her parents, 
who were always so considerate and kind to her, think?

Susan was a very gentle and tender lover, bringing 
Rosemary gradually towards the bed and onto the 
welcoming sheets. Guiding her with her hands, and then 
exploring her body with her tongue, lips and then teeth. Her 
fingers explored the crevices and contours of Rosemary's 
fully intact labia, while her tongue licked and her mouth 
gobbled greedily on her lodger's monstrous nipples. Her 
palms stroked the full roundness of Rosemary's knees, her 
lips nibbled on Rosemary's eyebrows and ears and toes. 
And then her fingers gently explored the inner sanctum of 
Rosemary's virginity, bringing the girl to unaccustomed and 
thoroughly frightening gasps and choked cries of delight as 
strange vibrations and spasms shook her sweaty, almost 
slimy, body.

Of course, Rosemary always wondered how Susan could 
afford such a nice flat but she never really suspected that it 
was as a result of working in the sex industry. In fact, until 
they'd made love, Susan had been very coy about disclosing 
what she did for a living. Indeed, she'd been singularly 
evasive. It was only after the two girls had several 
more nights of progressively more passionate lovemaking 
that Susan imparted this to her, but so casually and matter-
of-factly that it took Rosemary a few hours to comprehend the 
enormity of this fact. Which was, of course, that the first 
person she'd ever surrendered her body to habitually made 
love to others, men and women, in front of cameras. And 
that evidence of her lovemaking with these people was 
widely available in sex shops, supermarkets and newsagents 
throughout the country. And, indeed, the world.

The horror of it soon passed and she allowed Susan to take 
her most precious commodity, her maidenhead, with one of 
her smaller dildos. And, Christ! It was painful. But the 
pain soon subsided, and she soon forgot what had so 
recently happened to her, despite the clear and bloody 
stains on the bedsheets and still glutinously shining on 
the length of the pale pink penis-shaped dildo that Susan 
had chosen for this initial foray.

However, this was followed by more nights of similar 
penetration with dildos of steadily larger dimensions and of 
shapes and forms Rosemary had never expected: including 
studded ones which gave spasms of pleasure in the depths of 
her vagina she'd not even imagined. Even the long black 
dildo she'd originally seen protruding from the fly of 
Susan's shorts came into play, removing the very last 
traces of her maidenhead in a small bloody spot in the very 
centre of the sheet. There was even a dildo for her arse, 
which she allowed to enter her with some fear and anxiety, 
but was strangely not unpleasant, rubbing against the 
sensitive nerves of her vagina from a new and quite 
delightful direction. 

Although she truly enjoyed the penetrations, it was the 
other lovemaking with Susan which gave her the most 
pleasure, and gave her the deepest and most satisfying 
orgasms. In fact, there was something grotesque, even 
comical, about the strange positions she and Susan had to 
adopt for her lover to adopt the masculine poses required 
for strap-on sex. She much preferred to explore her smaller 
lover's tender white skin, the tiny breasts she so enjoyed 
licking and teasing, the porcelain beauty of her hands, the 
delicious contours of her smooth small feet and its perfectly 
proportioned toes. And, of course, Susan's face, with her 
beautiful dark eyes and her mouth. The ivory hardness and 
whiteness of her teeth. The liquid muscular flexibility of her 
tongue. Those passionate kisses which were the prelude and 
epilogue to their long passionate stints of lovemaking.

Nevertheless, Rosemary couldn't remain forever secluded 
from the reality of Susan's profession. And it first became 
clear to her one day when she came home from a lecture on 
Money Supply to find Susan entertaining two friends who 
were introduced to her as Amna and Fluff. It shocked her 
to see these two much more vulgar exemplars of the sex 
profession than her own darling loveliness, Susan. Fluff 
particularly shocked her: totally nude, although Rosemary 
was still wearing a baggy student sweatshirt and slacks. 
And her face. That horrible tattoo that totally defaced it, 
partly obscuring the fact that her head, unlike her vagina, 
was totally shaved. And wasn't it a tattoo of an erect penis 
spurting a load of yellowish semen onto her cheeks? How 
could anyone voluntarily consent to such a disgusting 
disfigurement? And this was merely the most prominent of 
a series of tattoos, mostly of penises, but some of vaginas 
and naked women scattered about a body which was only 
tattoo-free from below her breasts and to the top of her 
thighs.

How could anyone make love to a woman like that? 
Rosemary wondered, although she knew that the answer 
lay in Amna, who was herself voluntarily disfigured, if not 
in such a hideous provocative fashion. Amna wore nothing 
but a black leather jacket open at the front and a large black 
dildo strapped onto her hips. Her lips were curiously 
puckered, although she was clearly not of African ethnic 
origin. Her stomach was clearly outlined by the muscles of 
her exercise and practise. Her arse, when she stood up, was 
prominent and quite unnaturally round and firm. But this 
was as nothing to her very firm, very hard and rather large 
breasts, of a composition quite different to her own still 
larger breasts. The nipples seemed unnaturally small for 
such a large bosom.

"So this is your new girlfriend, Susan," Fluff commented 
with a smile, just barely visible through the pattern of her 
facial tattoo. "And what a fucking find she is too! Don't you 
think, Amna? Just look at the size of her fucking breasts! 
And they're fucking real too, aren't they?"

Susan nodded shyly, clearly a little embarrassed by the 
rudeness of her friend. She stood in her shorts with a dildo 
protruding through the fly as she had when Rosemary had 
first met her.

"They are real!" commented Amna in awe. "It's almost 
unreal. Gain without pain. I've never seen a pair like them 
in my whole career!"

"Nor me!" smiled Fluff. "Come on, Rosemary. Don't be so 
shy. We're not going to hurt you. We're just paying Susan a 
visit. We've just not seen her in a while. Have we, Susan?" 

And then, to Rosemary's jealous horror, she put an arm 
round her darling Susan's perfect bare white shoulders and 
kissed her very fully on the mouth, an arm around her back, 
while stroking the slight bumps of her bare breast with a 
familiarity which came so easily and so smoothly it could 
only be because it was expected of her. Rosemary felt 
slightly giddy and steadied herself slowly into one of 
Susan's welcoming leather arm chairs. As if on cue, Amna 
also sat down, while Susan and Fluff stood together, arms 
around each others shoulders and back, and Susan really 
not looking nearly as uncomfortable or awkward as 
Rosemary would have hoped.

However, Susan could see Rosemary's distress. She eased 
herself reluctantly out of Fluff's embrace and sat on the arm 
of Rosemary's chair, put her arms around her neck, beneath 
the long hair that cascaded onto her chest and tickled her 
bare midriff. "Oh, Rosemary! Darling! Sweetheart! Don't 
take so! Amna and Fluff are friends of mine from, oh! so 
long back. I love them dearly. But you are my dearest and 
closest!" She placed a tender kiss on Rosemary's lips and 
took her limp hand in her own ivory white one. "You must 
believe that you are the one I most love!"

"Fucking romantic, ain't you, Susan!" laughed Fluff. "I 
almost fucking envy you. But I've got my own dearest 
heart. Haven't I, Amna, honey!" And she joined Amna on 
the chair where she sat and, with no prelude or invitation, 
thrust her tongue deep into Amna's mouth and ran her 
fingers over the full firm contours of Amna's round nearly 
spherical bosom, briefly tweaking a nipple between a 
forefinger and thumb. "You fucking love me too, don't 
you, cherry pie?"

"I love you more than I can say!" gasped Amna, Fluff's 
saliva dribbling from the corner of her mouth: a small 
droplet detaching itself from her chin and plopping onto 
one of Fluff's hands otherwise preoccupied with her nipple. 

 "I don't ... I don't ... I don't know what to say..." gasped 
Rosemary.

"Don't say fucking anything!" sneered Fluff removing 
Amna's jacket from her shoulders and kissing her fully on 
the mouth. Amna gasped with an expression of delight and 
hugged her lover hard against her large breasts.

"Oh! I love you! I love you!" Amna cried.

Rosemary sat transfixed with Susan's arms around her 
shoulders, watching for the first time in real life as a couple 
made love to each other. It was a passionate animal 
experience that she knew intimately but had never 
witnessed, not even on celluloid. The two bodies grappled 
onto the floor intertwined, sweating and so absolutely 
physically naked. This is what it looks like, Rosemary 
thought, as she watched Amna's enormous dildo find its 
way into Fluff's vagina and as Amna thrust her absurdly full 
buttocks backwards and forwards above her.

She turned to face Susan. She had no idea of what to say, 
but was not at all surprised as silently and seductively, to 
the background groans and moans of the other couple, 
Susan removed not only her own clothes, but also 
Rosemary's. "Oh! I love you, Susan!" Rosemary managed 
to say over the excitement rising in her chest and clogging 
her mouth. 

And soon there were four bodies writhing and moaning and 
grappling together on Susan's rugs: at first apart as two 
couples deeply in love, and, then, predictably but not 
without some anxiety as an enmeshed foursome, writhing 
as a single eight-legged, four-tongued, six and two-half 
breasted  mass of flesh. This was the first time, Rosemary 
mused, with another woman, or other women, but still 
including Susan whose ivory flesh she sought out as much 
as she could between Amna's dark skin and Fluff's psychedelic 
one. For the first time, she kissed another woman, as Amna 
took her tongue into her mouth and slightly nipped it, while 
was it two? or was it three? or was it even four? fingers 
probed, explored, penetrated and squeezed her precious labia 
and vagina. And whose dildo was thrusting in her? Was it 
Amna's? Or her darling Susan's? And what was that inside her 
arse?

She groaned and yelled and panted as she shuddered with 
orgasm, but also watched as Fluff's own skinny tattooed 
legs twitched and shuddered to its own repertoire of 
pleasure. She took Fluff's vagina in her teeth, to find herself 
face to face with Susan, whilst behind her a dildo thrust into 
and out of her vagina.

Susan smiled lasciviously, her tongue licking her teeth, 
from out of which one or more of Fluff's pubic hair was 
embedded. "Oh, Rosemary, isn't this fun? Isn't this the most 
fun? Isn't this what life was always meant to be about?"

Amongst the liquid, physical, hot, sweaty tremors of 
passions that wracked her body so, Rosemary was able to 
reflect. Maybe Susan was right. Maybe this was what living 
was for. Wasn't this paradise? And her enormous breasts 
which had caused her so much embarrassment for so much 
of her life was now giving so much pleasure, as she felt two 
tongues work around her hard nipples. At least now they 
were being used for the purpose for which she must have 
been so blessed. Never again would she regret the 
prominence of her assets. The only drawback, she thought, 
was that some day it might end. But until then...

Rosemary nodded. "Oh! Susan! I love you so much. You've 
brought me so much pleasure. How can I ever ever thank you 
enough?"



 XLII


Tanya was beautiful. This was something about herself 
which she knew to be true and which she did her utmost to 
use to her best advantage. But beauty wasn't everything. 
She was also ambitious and she was frustrated by her 
position as a junior presenter on the evening entertainment 
show on Harlot TV. Sure, she was lucky to have made it in 
television, even if it was sex television where standards 
were very low compared to mainstream television. She was 
convinced that her assets weren't being used to their full. 
She knew that being filmed having sex on television wasn't 
really stretching her talents at all. It was not enough that 
her producer kept promising her better things to her from 
the comfort of his sheets. Nor that she could see the effect 
her beauty had on her fellow presenters and guests. Not 
that the quantity of sperm that they spurted onto and into 
her wasn't proof  enough. Just the way they looked at her 
body was enough.

She knew better than most how to present herself. She took 
great care of her appearance. Her hair was cut and dyed by 
the best hairdresser she could afford: a pleasing blonde bob 
that emphasised the curve of her neck, the classical 
contours of her chin and cheeks and showed off her high 
forehead. She spent time and money on make-up which 
subtly enhanced her eyes and lips without overdoing it, like 
some of the sex television presenters who had none of the 
aesthetic sense of balance which ensured she didn't look 
like a slut. And she was worldly enough to know that it was 
her body which represented her fortune in this corner (as it 
would be any other corner) of the sex industry. This she 
enhanced by a choice of clothes where the tops, however 
long the sleeves, stopped just below the nipples of her 
apple-shaped breasts, and a choice of skirts and shorts 
which showed off her long thin legs and hung low enough 
on her hips to show just how far down she shaved her 
crotch. A little bit further down or a little further up and 
she'd be revealing too much for the subtle effect of 
temptation she had nurtured to be effective. But what she 
always displayed was a midriff, with a perfect waist, a 
teardrop shaped navel and the contours of her hips. What 
she was saying, she knew, was that unless it meant 
business, what she had could be seen but not touched.

Her ambition left her somewhat lonely. None of her 
colleagues were anything other than competition for her, 
and no one in more senior positions to her in the television 
hierarchy was anything other than an object of envy or a 
stepping stone in her career. Most people sensed this and 
left Tanya alone, which generally suited her fine. However, 
not everyone seemed aware of her aura, and none less than 
Emma, who worked as a producer on the station's naturist 
programmes and as a commissioning editor for some of the 
station's more prestigious programmes: whose high 
pretensions were matched by equally low ratings. But 
Emma was as blissfully unaware of this as she seemed to be 
of Tanya's sexual aura. Tanya knew this, as Emma looked at 
her with exactly the same kind of unobservant, 
uncritical eye as she did everyone else, even the 
fucking make-up girls or the cameramen. 

This fascinated Tanya. It particularly fascinated her as 
Emma's sexual proclivity towards women was well-known 
on the station. And she could see that the main focus of 
Emma's attention was the slutty Maisie who'd once been on 
a television sex soap opera, but was now presenting a 
teenage sex programme with Rochester, a small boy with a 
big name. She also knew that Emma's relationship with 
Maisie couldn't possibly be exclusive. It was common 
knowledge that Maisie was spreading herself thinly 
amongst the male and female presenters and actors of 
Harlot TV, both on-screen and off. It was certain that 
Emma also knew of this, and Tanya found it unimaginable 
that an attractive woman like Emma wouldn't also be doing 
much the same thing, but in a perhaps more discreet way. 

It was difficult to think of anything that Maisie and Emma 
had in common with each other, except the habitual nudity 
which in Emma's case was like some kind of a fucking 
religion and in Maisie's was just a kind of carelessness. 
They were certainly nowhere near the same age. And 
Emma possessed a quite different ethos with regards to 
how she comported and expressed herself. It was unlikely 
that she would share any of the teenage enthusiasms which 
Maisie displayed on Wasted! every Monday and 
Wednesday night. All that fast, frantic, noisy dance music. 
All those wacky fashions. And all those infantile sex games 
that featured so highly on the programme. 

Tanya stood behind the cameras on the set of Wasted! not 
really thinking of anything at all, except perhaps of her 
contempt for all the foolishness that was going on. Maisie 
was fellating the singer of some fairly puerile pop song, 
dressed only in a pair of absurdly high-heeled yellow 
trainers, with her mass of curly hair teased in peculiar 
directions by a bizarre selection of hair clips. However, 
even Tanya had to admit that Maisie had a certain amount 
of technical skill: bringing the singer to ejaculation at just 
the right point in the dance tune that was running over it, 
letting the semen arch onto her chest without messing up 
the discreet make-up on her small nipples.

She then watched as Maisie effortlessly returned to the 
microphone with Rochester, betraying her sexual 
excitement in the breathiness of her voice, where she 
announced the appearance of the next guest, who was a 
teenage actor on IVY Grove, a sex soap opera set in a high 
school which was particularly popular with teenage viewers 
at the moment. She turned around to leave when she saw 
Emma standing nearby watching Maisie with a peculiarly 
sad expression. Tanya frowned, a little puzzled by Emma's 
expression, but sensing that it must illustrate some 
disconcertment for Maisie's chosen career. But how was 
she to express the right degree of sympathy without it 
seeming contrived?

"That Maisie is very talented," she offered as a comment to 
Emma, who started abruptly. She hadn't expected anyone 
to notice her there. And who was this woman? She vaguely 
recognised Tanya as one of the many minor television 
presenters at Harlot TV, whom she rarely bothered to 
acknowledge. She smiled at Tanya, and returned her 
attention to Maisie.

Tanya was not going to be dismissed that easily. "I'm sure 
I've seen Maisie in something else. A long time ago. I can't 
remember what?" Emma turned her head back to Tanya, 
clearly unsure how not to be rude to this woman. "What 
was it? King's Cross? Time Square?"

"Nothing as good as that," Emma replied, clearly provoked 
by Tanya's recollection of two low-ratings, high art sex 
dramas that she'd commissioned. "It was St. Denis Road. 
That was long before the scandal with the producer and 
that horse brought the series to an end."

"Well, I wasn't really much of a viewer," lied Tanya, who 
had a weakness for soap operas. "I'm sure she was very 
good in that."

"Not really," said Emma, returning her gaze to a television 
set on the wall that screened the action on the set. Tanya 
judged that that was all she was going to get out of this 
conversation, so she discreetly left Emma to her own 
concerns.

However, Tanya was nothing if not persistent. She made a 
point of greeting Emma whenever they passed on the 
corridor, which at first surprised Emma but to which she 
eventually became accustomed. She even signalled with her 
eyes some appreciation for Tanya's beauty, which had taken 
fucking long enough. She even seduced Rochester, despite 
her relatively low opinion of teenage sex presenters, so that 
she could find something about Maisie and her older lover, 
and also as an excuse to hang around the set of Wasted! 
This gave her more opportunities to talk to Emma, even 
though when the programme was over she would then have 
to spend time with this tedious boy and his views on 
whatever dance fashion was sweeping the clubs or 
whatever action movie was dominating the screens. She 
liked the fucking. Like most sex presenters, including 
Tanya, this was an area in which he undoubtedly excelled. 
It was the conversation which tried her patience. But she 
knew she now had an area of her life which she shared in 
kind with Emma.

Gradually, Emma paid more attention to her. And when she 
confided with Emma that she didn't really understand her 
young lover, which was true, she was a little surprised by 
how much Emma felt that she agreed. "I don't know why I 
love Maisie at all. She splits me apart."

Tanya took Emma's warm hand in hers and sighed 
sympathetically. "Just as Rochester splits me apart," she 
said sadly. Although, of course, even during anal 
intercourse, this wasn't nearly something Rochester's penis 
was really capable of doing. It was fine: quite long, just a 
little thin. But at least he didn't ejaculate too soon like so 
many other younger lovers.

Tanya discovered that there was a naturist coffee bar not 
far from the studio where Emma occasionally went by 
herself at lunch times, and although she always thought of 
all that innocent nude cavorting that naturists were so keen 
on rather naff, if not thoroughly contemptible, she knew 
that this was the best place to get to talk to Emma away 
from the Harlot TV studios. So, one day, when she'd 
established that this was where Emma had gone, she went 
down the iron stairway to the small coffee bar just 
underneath a delicatessen. It had the insufferably smug 
name of Nature Calling and the staircase was decorated 
by arty poses of men and women in those outdoor locations 
that naturists seemed to like. She knew that her expensive 
clothes looked out of place amongst all the jeans and tee-
shirts hanging on the hangars in the cloakroom where she 
handed them after disrobing. And she knew that even 
without clothes, her immaculate make-up, her finely 
manicured nails and even the way she walked, so much 
more natural in a pair of high-heeled shoes, was also pretty 
much out of place as she strode across the ethnic rugs 
that covered the coffee shop's wooden floor. She felt 
stroked by the gaze coming from the eyes of the naked men 
and women sitting on their tall stools which followed her 
imperious tread. Even though she always considered nudity 
a step beyond the degree of provocation she felt necessary 
to project, at least she didn't look so fucking ridiculous as 
so many of the others with their hairy bums, their furry 
armpits and unhealthily pale skin. She looked after herself - 
even in the places where very few were permitted to view. 

Tanya saw Emma sitting in a corner, a cup of cappuccino in 
one hand with her head leaning into a newspaper. She was 
disappointed that Emma hadn't witnessed her triumphant 
entry and all the heads turning. Tanya strode to the counter 
and ordered herself a cafe macchiato, all the while looking 
at her reflection in the mirror behind the short stocky, but 
still naked, girl who was serving her. Some people shouldn't 
be allowed to take their clothes off, Tanya mused focusing 
on a birthmark on the girl's shoulder as she was served a 
cup. She then turned round to see Emma carefully turning a 
page of her newspaper. Good! Now to attract her attention. 
"Cooee! Emma!" she cried out walking towards her. "What 
a surprise to see you here!"

Emma glanced up startled. At first she didn't recognise 
Tanya. Her own prejudices about textiles sometimes made 
it difficult to recognise anyone as distinct from their 
clothes. And the clothes Tanya wore were certainly 
distinctive, so much so that Emma thought of Tanya as the 
girl with the midriff. She always liked that midriff, and 
recognised that hiding the crotch and breasts emphasised 
the contours of the long serpentine length of her torso very 
well. But here she was nude. Although somehow not 
seeming nude. Even naked, it was clear that she paid 
extraordinary attention to her body. Even her crotch was 
razored short and in the shape of a tiny heart. It hadn't been 
dyed the same blonde as the head on her hair though.

"What are you doing here?" Emma wondered, putting 
down the newspaper and leaning forward over the table as 
Tanya eased herself onto the stool opposite. "I'd never 
taken you for a naturist."

Tanya smiled, as her mind raced over the question. "No, I'm 
not. But I've often passed this place and wondered what it 
was like." She stirred sugar from the sachet into her cup. 
"And anyway I've always been sympathetic to the naturist 
movement," she lied.

"Really?" wondered Emma with a grin. This really did not 
seem very likely to her. "Sympathetic in what way?"

"Well, it's always seemed so ? er ? natural," Tanya 
replied. "You know, not wearing clothes and everything. I 
mean, what could be more natural than ? erm ? than 
nudity. Baring everything. Erm. Feeling nature on the skin." 
God! This was awful. Change the subject. "So, Emma, do 
you live near here?"

Emma started. She'd actually looked forward to a 
conversation about naturism, and wasn't sure she was so 
keen about such a sudden change of tack. "Not really. Why 
do you?"

"No, I live in the town centre. Right near the theatre 
district." Ah good! A subject she could pursue a bit more 
fruitfully. "It's very convenient for seeing plays, shows, 
films, almost anything. Are you interested in ... er ? 
anything like that?"

And so it was in this way that Tanya persuaded Emma to 
come with her to see some nude dance production that was 
on near her. And dull it was too! No story that she could 
discern, although the programme gave some kind of a 
synopsis. It was just a lot of cavorting performed by a 
bunch of naked men and women, clearly chosen for their 
dancing ability rather than for their looks. The girls were so 
tiny, with similarly small breasts. And the men all seemed 
gay to her. She could more easily imagine them fucking 
each other than the women they were dancing with. And it 
was only in her imagination she could see any fucking. 
Despite all the bare flesh on stage and all the manhandling, 
there was no sex at all and the men's penises remained 
disappointingly shrivelled. Although quite a few men and 
women in the audience were nude like Emma, thankfully 
she wasn't in the minority in the designer outfit she wore. 
At least Emma seemed to like the show, and she even 
began to weep at one stage where one of the women 
dancers was performing some kind of dance to show her 
distress at her male lover leaving her. This was 
demonstrated by a lot of slumping onto the ground, 
throwing herself against other dancers and exaggerated arm 
movement. However, she took advantage of Emma's tears 
to take her hand in her own and squeeze it comfortingly. 
Emma smiled at her through her tears, seemingly grateful 
for the sympathy that Tanya was expressing.

At long last, the ordeal was over, but not without the 
tedium of applauding the cast as they bowed and pirouetted 
on the stage as the curtain was drawn and redrawn. 
Couldn't they just shut up and go home? Then at last out of 
the door and into the atrium.

"Oh! It was so sad!" weeped Emma, accepting Tanya's arm 
around her shoulder.

Tanya resisted the opportunity to ask exactly how all that 
nonsense was meant to be sad and instead took advantage 
of Emma's vulnerability to kiss her full on the mouth. Emma 
didn't resist, but she seemed somewhat surprised. "I didn't 
know you were ??"

"Were what?"

"Well! Liked other women. I always thought you were?"

"I've always preferred the company of women," lied Tanya 
who much preferred a good fucking to anything a woman 
could do, even with the assistance of rubber dildos and the 
like. "Especially a woman as beautiful as you?"

"But what about Rochester?"

"Rochester?" queried Tanya, thrown off guard. "Oh! 
Rochester! I don't know." She lowered her head onto 
Emma's breast, the better to look upset. "I just don't think 
there's any future for us. He tears my heart apart, but I 
think he prefers younger women." Tanya knew this was 
strictly true, but, in fact, she was beginning to be more than 
a little annoyed with the boy's tenacious soppy clinging 
onto her. Couldn't he just stop after the fucking, pack his 
clothes and leave her be, instead of insisting in telling her 
how much he loved her and how she was so much better 
than all the other women. She'd already decided, after she'd 
finally persuaded him to let her poke his anus with a carrot, 
that she'd exhausted all that she'd ever wanted from the 
boy. "No, I think I prefer you much more to him."

"Is that true?" wondered Emma, seeming almost grateful. 
Indeed, she'd come to appreciate Tanya's physical beauty 
more and more while they were in the coffee shop, and had 
herself wondered what it might be like to make love with 
her. And this she soon came to find out, when Tanya 
escorted her back to her apartment just a couple of blocks 
away from the theatre. Past the concierge, up the elevator 
and then, after very little preparation, the two of them flung 
their bodies onto Tanya's large and all-engulfing mattress 
and made rather loud and passionate love.

It was actually Tanya who was the most surprised at the 
lovemaking. Although she was surrounded by her own 
possessions, the photographic prints of film stars, a colour 
scheme of deep reds, blues and purples, and wading on the 
fluffy luxury of her pillows and duvet, she did not feel as 
much in control as she normally did. It was Emma who 
took the lead, bringing Tanya and herself to spasms of 
ecstasy that she'd never enjoyed with a woman before. Her 
tongue explored every crevice of Tanya's golden skin, 
sometimes deep into the pink darkness of her vagina, 
tenderly activating her clitoris into a stiffness that none of 
her male lovers had achieved. Her fingers probed her arse 
and vagina, her flesh ground against the sweaty smoothness 
of her own. And Tanya was alarmed to find just how rough 
Emma could be: a roughness that she recognised in herself 
but was somehow reluctant to reciprocate. The pleasure of 
the licking, combined with the tugging of teeth on her 
nipples and labia. The tenderness of the stroking and 
caressing, contrasting suddenly with abrupt slaps on her 
arse and breasts. The penetration of her anus and vagina by 
tongue, fingers and full fist. She shook and shuddered as 
orgasms spread through her body expertly orchestrated by 
her naturist lover.

Tanya wasn't so sure she liked this kind of love. She was 
used to being the one in control, but she could see that in 
matters of lesbian love she was very much the novice. 
Emma had clearly had many woman lovers and knew exactly 
how to ensure that they achieved the most pleasure that 
they could. And, of course, unlike men whose sexual 
abilities rarely stretched beyond twenty minutes and, in 
some cases, a mere fraction of that, Emma had the capacity, 
the willingness, the stamina and the appetite to keep on for 
hours, while draining from Tanya almost all the will-power 
she possessed.

Morning came. The sun shone through the gap in Tanya's 
curtains and onto Emma's naked back as she lay fast asleep 
on the bed. Tanya examined Emma with a critical eye. 
There was no doubting Emma's beauty, although she 
wasn't that keen on the hairy armpits, the uncropped vagina 
and the light hairs on her legs. These bloody naturists! They 
just didn't have any idea how so unseemly hirsuteness was. 
Couldn't she even invest in a shaver? But then Emma's 
dress sense was about as ghastly as it could be. She 
dressed, when she dressed at all, in the most functional 
way: one which would have made the most beautiful 
woman in the world appear plain

She also decided that this would be the last time she would 
allow Emma back to her place at night. After all, she had 
her own domestic arrangements to look after, and she didn't 
appreciate the idea of Emma being around too often. It had 
been bad enough with Rochester, although it had often 
been quite easy to persuade him to go off to one of the 
many night clubs in the area with one of his many teenaged 
fans. After all, she had her two live-in lovers in the other 
bedroom to worry about. Although they were admirably 
discreet when Tanya brought her lovers back, chance 
meetings in the loo or on the stairs or in the kitchen could 
not be ruled out.

Karl and Anthony both contributed to the rent of the flat, 
which Tanya appreciated greatly. Especially as their 
combined contribution easily exceeded the actual cost of 
renting the flat, expensive as it was. And they were both 
pathetically, stupidly besotted with her. What little crumbs 
of lovemaking she let them have was quite sufficient to 
keep them gasping for more. They'd not known each other 
before they found themselves in the odd position of having 
to share the same bed together and only rarely together 
with Tanya. And even then, they couldn't be sure that this 
would involve any intimacy with the true object of their 
passion. Although they weren't at all gay, even really 
bisexual, she always demanded that they have sex together 
while she watched. And she also liked evidence that they 
had sex together when she wasn't there. She knew that 
neither of them really enjoyed it, and to be honest, watching 
a man stick his erect penis deep into another man's arse 
wasn't really much of a turn-on for her either. But what she 
did like was the arbitrary exercise of her power over them 
and their utter obedience to her whims.

The first time she'd got Karl to fuck Anthony had been the 
best for her. Anthony was clearly hating every minute as the 
prick Tanya stimulated to its full arousal pushed in, inch by 
painful inch, into Anthony's hairy taut arse. She loved 
seeing that expression of sheer agony and disgust on 
Anthony's face as he felt the prick go deeper into him than 
he'd ever imagined possible, aided by the petroleum jelly 
but not helped by Karl's own reluctance. She loved 
watching the two men nervously suck each other's cocks. 
And she insisted they continue until finally (and with a little 
assistance from her own manicured fingers) they came in a 
welcome release of semen, mingled with guilt, anxiety and 
sheer revulsion. But she knew they loved it. The more 
outrageous the demands she made of them, the more they 
seemed to want more. What was it that made people want 
to surrender themselves in such a humiliating way to her? 
Who knew? Who cared? It was enough to see Karl also 
being fucked by Anthony and finally to have to lick the shit 
from his arse off the dick.

Men were so stupid. Almost as stupid as women. She 
brushed her clitoris with excitement as she imagined what 
further humiliation she could command of the two. She 
could get Karl to fuck Anthony while masturbating his dick 
while Tanya pushed a dildo right up Karl's arse. She loved 
to see Karl grind his teeth and squeeze his eyes together, 
little tears emerging despite himself at the unfairness of it 
all. She loved making unreasonable demands of them, 
knowing that her two lovers would gladly give everything 
for her. And then give again. Until their balls were sore 
from abuse. Their arses aching from the pain of penetration. 
And their eyes stinging from the semen and urine that 
would be inflicted on their faces. And of course it was up to 
them to clean their shit-, blood-, sperm- and piss-covered 
sheets. She would never indulge herself on soiled sheets. 
That was one of her many rules.

Emma stirred and looked at her new lover from her 
recumbent position, half in and half out of the sheets. Tanya 
was so beautiful. And so randy. Look at how she was able 
to masturbate after all the lovemaking they'd had. Her long 
lithe waist. Her cute apple-shaped, apple-sized breasts with 
those stiff nipples she'd enjoyed nipping, sucking and 
chewing. That prim but perfect vagina, so clearly the object 
of many previous penetrations but kept neat and tidy: not 
falling out from her lips in the way that some sex stars' 
vaginas did. How had she deserved such a beautiful 
woman? And such a passionate lover. If it weren't for 
Maisie, and her deep love for her, she'd be truly happy. She 
smiled up at Tanya, who noticed Emma's stirring and 
smiled back at her through teeth whiter than teeth should 
be, framed by lips which even without lipstick were  thick 
and almost red.

Tanya leaned over Emma and kissed her full on the lips, 
and stroked her breasts with her fingers, teasing one of 
them into a stiffness that she recognised as a prelude to 
future passion in the morning sunshine. "It was good, 
wasn't it?" Tanya asked, in a voice that had to swallow the 
real excitement that, despite herself, she genuinely felt.

"It was perfect!" replied Emma, before planting her tongue 
full between Tanya's ivory perfect teeth. "It was absolutely 
perfect!"



 XLIII


At last the day of Josephine and Charlotte's wedding came 
along. A day Charlotte had been dreading but looking  
forward to so much. At last she could put a seal on the love 
she felt towards her lover. At last she would  be able to say 
to the world that Josephine was the one for her and that it 
was her intention to stay with her until death did them part. 
She was equally worried about her pregnancy, now so 
obvious and such an added burden to her otherwise slim 
frame. But although biologically the unborn child couldn't 
have been Josephine's, she felt that it was spiritually. The 
baby for which they had both worked so hard and which 
was almost certainly conceived while Josephine was there 
in the mass of male and female flesh of their lovemaking. 

Josephine was happy. She dearly loved Charlotte and could 
imagine no better lover and companion. But not everyone 
was as happy as Charlotte and Josephine. Charlotte's 
parents were horrified. They refused to even acknowledge 
their wedding invitation, something which brought 
Charlotte to tears of rage and disappointment. How could 
they care so little for their daughter and her happiness? 
They even refused to meet Josephine and neither of the 
girls had the courage to visit them uninvited. Their refusal 
to go was for reasons which brought back to Charlotte 
bitter memories of their reaction when she announced to 
them first that she was gay and second that she was a 
naturist. They believed that same sex marriages were 
nothing more than a mockery, that Charlotte's pregnancy 
revealed her to be merely a slut who really shouldn't cast a 
shadow on their threshold, and that Josephine herself was 
almost certainly the cause of their darling daughter's 
depravity. The fact that it was to be a naturist wedding was 
scarcely likely to have added to their enthusiasm to witness 
her nuptials.

Josephine's parents, on the other hand, were much more 
understanding. Although they had no enthusiasm for their 
daughter's chosen career and failed to comprehend what it 
might be that their darling daughter saw in another woman, 
they took the effort to meet Charlotte whose nudity at first 
disturbed them, but to which they gradually got 
accustomed. It was just another life-style choice they 
reasoned, and not one that actually caused anyone any 
harm. They had great misgivings about going to a naturist 
wedding. They were not naturists and indeed found the 
whole thing faintly ridiculous. They were pleased to see 
that nudity was optional and was certainly not expected of 
them. They were assured that great efforts would be made 
to ensure that textiles such as they were not going to feel 
excluded.

It was also reassuring that it wasn't their daughter who was 
pregnant and that, in respect to their own feelings, 
Josephine was not going to be naked herself. In fact, she 
went into the business of choosing a wedding dress with an 
enthusiasm which Charlotte, who was of course excluded 
from so doing, found quite curious. She and Susan visited 
countless shops that sold matrimonial wear before 
selecting a relatively modest, faintly golden wedding dress 
which they felt suited her. Charlotte restricted herself to 
just a veil and a garter. Any more than that and it just 
wouldn't be right!

She was filled with trepidation as she waited in the church 
foyer for her fiancee to arrive. She felt horribly conscious of 
her prominent stomach. Just as much as she felt that 
marriage was the right thing when a baby was involved, so 
too did she feel that gravidity was not really the appropriate 
condition for such a solemn occasion. She stood with 
Emma who had the role of giving her away to Josephine and 
who was naturally not at all self-conscious about her 
nakedness.

Not that they were the only naked people there. The choir 
was similarly nude, as of course was the minister, who 
wore only the dog-collar which symbolised his office. Also 
many, but not most, of their guests were naked. There was 
Maisie excitedly chatting by Emma's side, who was as 
comfortable as Emma in her nakedness. There was Susan's 
large-breasted lover, Rosemary, who was nervously sat 
next to Amna and her bizarrely tattooed friend. Rosemary 
was naked and very much aware of the attention her 
enormous breasts attracted, whether she crossed her arms 
over her breasts or under them. Amna and Fluff were also 
naked, although both of them had chosen to wear large hats 
which had the advantage in Fluff's case of obscuring her 
vulgar facial tattoo. Much as Charlotte enjoyed men's 
penises, and had enjoyed more than a few on her hen-night 
several nights ago, she felt that erect penises were not really 
appropriate in a church; even a naturist one. Next to the 
two girls were Salim and Fatima covered by their chadors. 
There was Enid, also naked, sitting by the clothed figures of 
Edward and Hyacinth. And several naked figures from 
work. And also the stunningly well-dressed, if slightly 
haughty figure of Tanya, a woman who Emma had insisted 
on inviting, and who Charlotte knew was playing a bigger 
role in her best friend's life. There was also Harriet who'd 
hurried back from an engagement in Ottawa to be there 
with her lover.

And then, finally, and sending Charlotte's heart into a frenzy 
of activity, arrived Josephine escorted by the naked figure 
of Susan. Although Josephine's dress felt slightly out of 
place in a naturist church, Charlotte had to admit that it did 
suit her very well. As always, Josephine displayed excellent 
restraint and taste in her choice. Susan handed Josephine 
over to Charlotte, who, as she took her lover's hand in hers, 
was aware of how much she was also nervous and sweating 
from the excitement and anticipation of this the day which 
would seal their love forever.

The two of them hadn't made love together since their hen-
night, which had been a full orgy to which they'd invited all 
their friends and a number of willing men (one of which 
was more than likely the real father of their child). 
Charlotte enjoyed all the fucking, though she doubted it 
was as much appreciated by her unborn child whose first 
kicks she'd felt during a particularly frenetic session with 
three, or was it four, lovers. And she kept her eyes on her 
dear Josephine who also enjoyed her own heterosexual 
coupling under Emma's faintly disapproving eye. Since that 
day, as tradition demanded, she'd not seen Josephine and 
had only spoken to her, and then at length, over the phone. 
Charlotte invited Emma to stay in the flat which had once 
been Emma's as well and came to enjoy several nights of 
passion with the woman who would always remain her best 
friend, even though one, she was now resigned to 
admitting, who could never displace Josephine in her 
affections. Her lover had been staying with Susan and she 
was sure that the two of them had also enjoyed many hours 
of lovemaking, almost certainly together with Susan's 
bizarrely proportioned girlfriend.

The wedding was a suitably solemn affair treated with 
appropriate respect by the minister who, in Charlotte's and 
Josephine's earlier conversations, had shown rather more 
concern for the girls' souls than for the rightness or 
otherwise of same sex weddings and Charlotte's pregnancy. 
Both girls promised to come to the church more often and 
to read the Bible. Charlotte was very nervous and still quite 
unhappy that her parents weren't there to lend their assent. 
It was with some difficulty that Josephine squeezed the ring 
onto Charlotte's finger which had slightly swollen in her 
anxiety. But it was soon in place, the solemn vows made 
and the registry signed.

And then onto the reception which Susan and Emma had 
organised. There were the speeches, the food and a 
selection of jazz and dance music laid on by some of 
Emma's colleagues from Harlot TV. Josephine's father had 
decided after all his doubts and after a great deal of 
encouragement from her daughter to give a brief speech in 
which he wished the couple well. He hinted only obliquely 
that this had not really been the sort of marriage he'd 
expected for his bisexual daughter. Other speeches came 
from friends and colleagues, including Emma whose speech 
was the most professionally delivered and the most 
heartfelt. Soon both Charlotte and Josephine were slightly 
tipsy from all the champagne and very full from the 
delightful spread that Susan had organised and paid for. 
Susan had opted not to give a speech, and Charlotte was 
quite concerned at one stage to see her burst into tears and 
lean on Rosemary for comfort and consolation.

Then, the two girls were whisked off to the hotel where 
they were to stay for the next few days. It wasn't very far 
away, as Charlotte was concerned about how travel, 
particularly air travel, would affect her pregnancy. As they 
left, Charlotte kissed her friends and Josephine's parents 
goodbye, glad that despite the lack of approval from her 
own parents that her marriage was at least given credence 
by some people in what she considered to be her new 
family. Was she Josephine's wife or her husband? she 
wondered as the taxi drove them through the city streets. 
Even the question of surnames had caused some debate in 
her mind: solved ultimately by them each adopting the 
other's surname in addition to their own.

The honeymoon suite was on the top floor of the plush 
hotel with a view over the city parks and relatively quiet 
despite the heavy traffic outside thanks to the very high 
quality double glazing. Charlotte sank backwards onto the 
large heart-shaped bed, her swollen stomach protruding 
high above and the weight of her gravidity exhausting her.

"At last!" she said to Josephine. "Alone together!"

Josephine smiled as she removed her clothes and stood 
naked in front of Charlotte at the end of the bed. Her 
nipples were raised in anticipation and the sheen of her skin 
betrayed her excitement. "I've enjoyed this day so much!" 
she sobbed. "I never thought I would. But all the love I felt 
from everyone and from you? Oh Charlotte! What have I 
done to deserve a lover, a partner, a soulmate as beautiful, 
clever and oh! so loving as you?"

She pulled herself onto the bed and crawled towards 
Charlotte. She placed her hands on Charlotte's large 
stomach, admiring her lover's breasts which were swollen 
as they prepared themselves for lactation, the nipples larger 
and fuller than ever before, and the mounted 
welcomingness of her vagina! She moved her head down 
between Charlotte's legs, her hair tracing itself delicately 
over her lover's thighs and the base of her swelling 
stomach. A menage a trois of sorts, she mused, thinking of 
the hidden third presence inside Charlotte who very 
occasionally and just as unpredictably announced its 
presence, but had been remarkably quiet on this so special 
day.

Her tongue probed Charlotte's vulva which her lover had 
taken to shaving again in preparation, she said, for her 
forthcoming childbirth. It was so beautiful to run her 
tongue over such smooth skin that emphasised the beauty 
of her lover's vagina which despite its very many 
penetrations had not unfolded itself into a mass of 
protruding folds like an overripe fig. The clitoris tasted so 
sweet. The inner lips smelt so strong and overpowering. A 
rich odour which excited Josephine as she rubbed her own 
clitoris with one hand, while the fingers of the other probed 
lovingly in the tighter grip of Charlotte's anus. She gasped 
with reciprocal pleasure as she brought her lover to one of 
her so reliable orgasms as they wallowed together on the 
mass of the bed.

"Oh I love you so much!" declared Josephine. "And you're 
mine! All mine!" And then she smiled wickedly at her lover. 
"But not completely?"

Charlotte looked slightly alarmed. "What do you mean? Is 
there someone else?"

"Tonight yes," Josephine announced, sharply clapping her 
hands.

And then on cue three naked men who Josephine had 
invited emerged from the bathroom where they'd been 
hiding. They all sported firm and proud erections which 
they had been stimulating while watching Josephine prepare 
her lover. Charlotte smiled with delight. 

"Oh Josephine!" she cried with gratitude. "You needn't 
have! We no longer have to share our love with anyone 
else."

"There is a love I can never give fully," Josephine admitted, 
as the men crawled onto the bed and surrounded her gravid 
lover. Their tongues and hands tenderly stroked her 
stomach, breasts and thighs, expressing their appreciation 
with small grunts and the slightest panting of excitement. 
Josephine crawled up towards her life partner's face and 
kissed her full in the mouth, as the men prepared to service 
her.

And so it was a wedding night to remember, and heard 
down the long hotel corridor as Charlotte's cries of ecstasy 
rang out. The men were gentle, as they had to be regarding 
Charlotte's state, but nonetheless didn't neglect their duties 
towards satisfying the wedded couple from the back and 
the front. A mass of naked groping flesh: one fifth black 
and one fifth brown. One stood up and fucked Charlotte 
while Josephine was fucked by another, her tongue still 
twisted around Charlotte's own, deep in her lover's mouth. 
The fifth took Josephine from behind, awkwardly balancing 
himself on the edge of the bed, holding onto the girls for 
stability. 

The night was long and passionate, sweaty and smelly, and 
only Charlotte's advanced state of pregnancy prevented it 
going on forever, though she had the appetite for more 
impassioned lovemaking while the subject of her wedlock 
dozed on the sheet beside her, a broad and satisfied grin on 
her face.

Finally, Josephine was satisfied, and she silently signalled 
that the men should leave, despite the persistent erection 
one of them still had. They quietly gathered their clothes, 
while Josephine stretched out next to her lover. As the door 
closed behind the men, she tenderly kissed Charlotte on the 
forehead, gently pushing aside the damp hair that clung to 
her flesh. She examined her lover's peaceful expression. The 
eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady and even. 
Her stomach gently rose and fell with each breath: holding 
within a secret treasure Josephine had sworn to love; 
knowing that Charlotte viewed it as the greatest gift she 
could give her lover. It may have none of her genes, 
Josephine mused, but it would have all of her love.

She leaned over to turn off the lights in the room, and lay in 
the darkened room illuminated only by the stars from 
behind the curtain. She contemplated the contours of her 
lover's body and felt a swelling of impassioned love let 
itself loose from her own chest, quickening her heart and 
making her feel ever so slightly weak. She'd never known 
love like this before. And, indeed, she'd once felt that such 
romantic feelings were forever denied her, despite all the 
sex and passion. But they were there now, and filled her 
with a deep and satisfying glow, which she was certain lit 
her up as keenly as the warmth of a coal fire.



 XLIV


Amna was aware that her family was more than a little 
discomfited by the changes in her appearance, though she 
made every effort when she visited them to dress in a way 
that wouldn't alarm them. But no matter how plain the 
clothes she wore (and these days it was quite difficult for 
her to dress especially plainly), nothing could disguise how 
much fuller her bust now was nor how her face had 
changed so much. It must have puzzled them, but she was 
sure they attributed it to the changes that happened to any 
growing girl. It was good that they had no opportunity to 
see her shaved vagina, her pierced nipples or her tattoos. 
Then they might really worry about the wisdom of letting 
their eldest daughter stay with Aunt Salim. Her parents only 
asked her the most banal questions about her life, 
convinced that her newfound wealth was gained through 
honest toil in the office. Her brothers were too confused by 
their own physical changes brought about by adolescence 
to make any judgment about their sister's own changes.

Her younger sister Dalitha was also growing older. Breasts 
were beginning to swell beneath her school jumper and 
blouse, and her figure was fast seeming ill-suited to the 
clothes of her youth. Inevitably she was more curious about 
the changes that were happening to her sister. "Will I have 
boobies like yours?" she asked naively. "Will my bum stick 
out like that?" Amna loved her sister too much to mislead 
her, so when the moment seemed right, as they walked 
through the park with their parents' pet labrador, she 
explained as best she could what plastic surgery meant, and 
what it did to a girl. "But don't tell Mum and Dad. I don't 
think they'll approve."

However, conversation soon strayed and Amna found 
herself confessing to her love affair with Fluff, her 
relationship with Auntie Salim and her friend Fatima, and, 
of course, about all the men in her life. "But I much prefer 
Fluff. She's really lush." Amna was so used to her current 
life-style that she'd forgotten how very strange and exotic it 
seemed to her sister. Dalitha's eyes widened and her tongue 
licked across her thin lips. 

"Your life is so exciting!" she gasped. "What's it like having 
sex? Does it hurt? And do men's willies really get very stiff? 
My life's so boring. I wish I had a life like yours."

Amna sighed, as the labrador chased after some leaves 
across the grass, excited by the smells and sights of the city 
park. "Men are like dogs," she said, observing the labrador 
sniff the rear end of a collie. "They just want one thing. And 
when they're finished, they just run off to find someone else 
to fuck ? to make love with. Women are much better. 
Fluff is so lovely in bed. And so beautiful. She's got the 
tenderest cunt ? personality in the world. And Auntie 
Salim's alright too, if a bit boring."

"It sounds wonderful," giggled Dalitha excitedly. "Ooh! I'd 
just love to have sex with a woman if it sounds so good. Do 
any women have willies?"

Amna blushed, thinking of the strap-on dildo she had 
chosen not to wear when visiting her family. "Not as such," 
she admitted.

Dalitha was a growing girl and was now working part-time 
in their parents' shop, so she had her own small income. She 
was insistent with her pleading that she be allowed to visit 
Amna at Auntie Salim's house. It was difficult for Amna to 
resist. She and her sister had so many happy shared 
memories together over the years of their childhood 
together. And she was such a pretty girl. How could 
anyone resist her? She was shorter than Amna, and also 
slenderer. Her skin was equally as dark and like her sister 
dark fur grew on her cheeks and arms. She had a very 
sweet toothy smile. Her long straight hair fanned over her 
shoulders and fell into her large dark brown eyes. Amna 
eventually gave in, forcing her sister to swear on the Koran 
that she wouldn't say anything about her life to anyone. 
"Not even your best friend at school."

Dalitha frowned. She'd already made hints of this to 
Khadija and had been looking forward to providing more 
full and detailed accounts of her older sister's exciting life, 
but she saw the wisdom of Amna's advice. She was a good 
girl, and she'd never do anything to upset her sister. 

Auntie Salim made Dalitha very welcome when she visited, 
although it was clear that the young girl was finding it all 
rather boring. Why was her aunt dressed with a scarf and 
long dress? Amna said that she was usually nude. And 
Amna wasn't dressed very sexily either. Her sister's jeans 
and baggy tee-shirt were not the outrageous clothes that 
Amna had confessed to wear most often. They sat together 
around the television eating the small snacks that Salim had 
prepared, talking about school and how business was at her 
parents' shop. This wasn't what Dalitha's adolescent 
fantasising had made her hope for. All that rubbing her 
breasts and easing her fingers into her crack had not been 
expended in fantasies of this! Perhaps Amna had been lying. 
Showing off. She was glad now she'd not told Khadija or 
Tabitha more of what her sister had said. She was already 
rehearsing how she'd relate the evening. Grown-ups were 
so boring!

However, all that changed when Fluff arrived. Unlike Amna 
and Salim, she was hiding none of her usual lack of 
constraint. She wore a sleeveless leather jacket, with her 
breasts bare beneath and a very tight very short skirt which 
so readily revealed that she wore no knickers underneath. 
And, of course, her face! Dalitha had seen pictures of erect 
penises in the magazines in her parents' shop and she'd even 
once seen an erect penis which some horrid man had shown 
off to her while she was walking home from school. But 
she'd never seen one tattooed so blatantly across anyone's 
face! So, Amna had been right to say that Fluff was a cock-
fancier.

Dalitha was introduced to Fluff by Salim who was clearly 
rather less keen on her than Amna whose face brightened 
up quite perceptibly. "Fuck me! Your sister's not bad, is 
she?" Fluff exclaimed. "Pretty. Like you, Amna sweetest!"

And then, with virtually no prelude and with hardly time for 
Salim to complain, Fluff was on Amna, kissing her on the 
face and holding her tightly to her body. "Fuck, Amna! Get 
this fucking prep gear off. You look like a fucking college 
girl!"

Dalitha was astonished enough by the language which her 
parents had mostly sheltered her from and she'd mostly 
only heard in the school playground. She was even more 
astonished as Fluff pulled off her jacket and skirt to stand 
naked in front of Amna. And even more tattoos. And 
weren't the nipples pierced too! And the tattoos! Just 
looking at them made Dalitha feel excited in a way that 
rather frightened her. All those stiff willies. And some of 
them had sort of creamy stuff coming out of them! Was this 
really what grown-up women could get up to?

"Really, Fluff! In front of Amna's sister!" protested Salim 
impotently, as Fluff tore off her lover's clothes. But to no 
avail. All too soon, Dalitha was treated to the fulsome and 
disturbing sight of her surgically enhanced sister without 
the encumbrance of clothing. And her sister had a tattoo on 
her arm as well, but not one of an erect penis. And then in 
front of her slightly horrified gaze, her sister and Fluff took 
themselves onto the sofa and began groping together while 
Salim stood by, not knowing what to do confronted with 
this flagrant display of exhibitionism. One body black, 
breasty and full. The other slim, white and splattered with 
the weirdest display of the tattooist's art that Dalitha could 
ever envisage. And the things they were doing to each 
other! Those tongues in the private bits. And in each other's 
mouth. Fingers probing everywhere. The strange 
overpowering animal smell. The glistening sweat on each of 
the girls' bodies. So, this was what sex was like! It was both 
like and unlike what Dalitha had imagined. Certainly she'd 
known from the pictures what two girls in the buff wrapped 
around each other would look like. But she hadn't really 
envisaged its physicality, its sweatiness and it smelliness. 
And the gasping, grunting, whining, moaning sounds. And 
then after she didn't know how long she'd sat in awe on the 
armchair, the television still babbling on about local news 
affairs and Auntie Salim still standing transfixed and 
miserable by the mantelpiece, it all came to a slow end, as 
both Fluff and Amna finished off with a chorus of cries and 
then collapsed onto the sofa together.

"Well, I hope you're both thoroughly ashamed of 
yourselves," Salim admonished the girls. "In front of young 
Dalitha."

"Oh fuck off!" said Fluff contemptuously. "I'll do just what 
I fucking like! If I want to fuck Amna then that's just what 
I'll fucking do."

The rest of the evening was more sedate, although Fluff and 
Amna remained naked with their arms entwined round each 
other. Their clothes were left in an untidy heap on the 
carpet and it was up to Salim to pick them up, fold them 
and place them tidily on another chair. Something which 
she did to Fluff's clothes with rather more disdain than she 
did Amna's. Fluff was entertaining company though, 
shocking Salim and amusing Dalitha with stories of her 
recent sex conquests, while Amna occasionally kissed and 
petted her. Eventually, Fluff departed to see some man 
whom she'd arranged to see earlier and left a rather 
embarrassed Salim and the still naked figure of Amna. 
Salim scolded her niece and then busied herself in the 
kitchen while Dalitha excitedly talked to her sister about 
her strange girlfriend. And then, of course, she was driven 
home by Auntie Salim, while the still naked Amna sat in 
front of the television watching some sex soap opera on 
one of the cable sex channels that her parents did not 
subscribe to.

This was not the last visit that Dalitha made to Aunt Salim's 
apartment. Indeed, it was the first of many regular visits. 
Amna, however, no longer made any effort to dress any 
differently when her sister visited, if she made any effort to 
dress at all. Aunt Salim, on the other hand, was clearly 
embarrassed by her niece's semi-nudity or even full nudity, 
but she had clearly abandoned all attempt to restrain her 
from dressing as she wished, although she herself dressed 
as before, with a scarf hiding her hair and a dress that hid 
most of her body. Nevertheless, the visits did not normally 
involve seeing Amna having sex with Fluff or anyone else. 
The three of them would watch television and sometimes 
Dalitha would rest in Amna's room where they would listen 
to her older sister's records and flick through her 
magazines.

She also met Fatima who dressed no differently to her aunt 
and was equally as polite and restrained: indulging in none 
of the sexual practices that Amna had said she often did. 
However, she was still fun company and was clearly very 
fond of her sister. She made no mention of her professional 
relations with Amna and kept the conversation well clear of 
such matters.

Fluff was quite different whenever she visited, which was 
not frequently. Her visits, however, were always 
unannounced and always involved sex with her sister. 
Dalitha was not sure of the strange feelings erupting inside 
her as she watched her sister and her lover together 
indulging in the passionate love that was so sweaty, so 
unrestrained and so physical. There was a strange warmth 
emanating from between her legs and she was sometimes 
short of breath as the bodies enmeshed on the floor, on the 
sofa, against the wall and even in the bed. Aunt Salim 
stayed within sight, watching the two lovers not with 
Dalitha's curiosity and wonderment, but more with an 
expression of disgust mixed with a kind of sadness. 

"Fuck, Salim!" remarked Fluff, Amna's strap-on dildo deep 
inside her and her shaved head pressed against the back of 
the sofa. "Why don't you join in, instead of just watching 
like that?"

Salim shook her head sadly, but made no comment.

"And you, Dalitha? Don't you want to join in?"

Dalitha gasped, conscious of a sudden tightening of her 
chest. Could she? Was it right? With her sister?

"Well, at least have a feel of what it's like," Fluff 
commanded, placing a hand on the dildo and holding Amna 
still with her other hand. "Come here and touch it!"

Dalitha looked at her Aunt Salim through startled eyes. Her 
aunt shook her head disapprovingly. She returned her gaze 
to her sister, who smiled mischievously. "It won't do any 
harm just to touch," she said with a smile.

Dalitha walked up to her sister and gingerly put her hand 
forward to where the dark rubber met Fluff's nicely 
trimmed vagina. She tenderly placed a hand on one side of 
it. It was strangely warm and very sticky. A small warm 
trickle of vaginal juice flowed down onto her thumb. 
Dalitha lowered her hand down the length of the dildo and 
felt the brush of warm, hard flesh where the dildo 
penetrated Fluff, the folds of the vulva erupting like the 
petals of a peculiarly pink flower on either side. She was 
both horrified and fascinated by the details of Fluff's vagina. 
All those folds! All those crevices between the thick flesh! 
And the contrast of such detail with the smooth 
uninterrupted contours of her stomach and the small hard 
breasts above. She voiced a strangulated gasp and, 
frightened by the strong feelings that tightened her own 
chest, she hurriedly removed her hand and stood back.

"Good, isn't it?" said Fluff with an amused smile, as Amna 
recommenced her steady rhythmic thrusts in and out of her 
vagina. "And it's much better to be doing it than watching 
it!"

Dalitha stood back. What was she thinking? She ran over to 
Aunt Salim by the mantelpiece and without thinking 
grasped her aunt's hand. She watched as her sister and her 
lover became more and more physical, and the thrusting 
became fiercer and fiercer. Clearly her brief intercession in 
their lovemaking had stimulated the two girls to even more 
ferocity and passion. Aunt Salim seemed a little startled by 
Dalitha's gesture but she didn't relinquish her niece's hand, 
although she did nothing to encourage it.

And soon Fluff and Amna were finished. In the postcoital 
pause that followed, Dalitha let go of her aunt's hand, 
aware of what it might seem to suggest, and embarrassedly 
sat down on the sofa. Amna smiled strangely as her sister 
positioned herself, her arms clasped between the legs of her 
jeans and a bright red blush spread over her face. No 
comment was made of what had happened, even from Fluff, 
who as usual left to meet another of her many male lovers. 
The rest of the evening was spent innocently enough, 
watching the television, with Amna fully naked except for 
the grotesque black dildo which dangled awkwardly 
between her legs and still shimmered from the traces of 
Fluff's vaginal orgasm.

It was perhaps inevitable that the next time that Dalitha 
visited her aunt's flat, it was a different occasion to all those 
that had come before. Dalitha herself had half-expected it to 
be different, although she had shied away from any 
coherent thought of how different it might be. The memory 
of her close encounter with Fluff's vagina remained with 
her; seemed, in fact, to be imprinted on the tips of her 
fingers where they had touched her. The memory of that 
droplet of vaginal juice still seemed sticky on her fingers. 
Her nights were spent in lonely agonised masturbation, not 
focused on anything specific but bringing her to gasps 
which she hoped her parents hadn't heard and a hot sweat 
that she hoped would go before the morning.

When she went up to the flat, after ringing the doorbell, she 
found Amna sitting naked on the sofa next to her aunt who, 
for the first time, was not wearing a scarf over her hair. 
Nor, for that matter, her long dark dress. Unlike Amna, she 
wasn't naked. She was wearing red silk lingerie which 
revealed to Dalitha for the first time that her aunt was really 
quite attractive. Aunt Salim's body was clearly a woman's 
body, and not at all like a girl's. Her breasts were full, the 
thighs and hips were also more full, and her arms had a 
womanly plumpness and none of the girlish slimness of her 
sister's arms. She still looked a little awkward, however, 
and somewhat embarrassed.

Dalitha sat down on the chair that had almost become her 
own, settling into the familiar cushions, aware that the 
television was off and that the stereo was playing some soft 
ambient jazz music. She smiled awkwardly at her sister and 
her aunt. "Aren't we watching Homefield Grove?" she 
asked, aware that this was the time the soap opera normally 
began.

Amna smiled broadly and ignored her question. "Why don't 
you take off your clothes?" she asked quietly.

"What!" gasped Dalitha. "I couldn't ?"

"Don't be silly. You know you'd feel more comfortable if 
you did. And anyway I don't wear any, do I?"

"I'm not sure that?" Dalitha began, but nevertheless 
surrendered to her sister's request. She pulled off the tee-
shirt she wore with its picture of the boy band In Tune. It 
eased off over her shoulders and she pulled her arms 
through its elbow-length sleeves. She then unstrapped her 
bra so her rounded, still forming breasts were revealed: the 
nipples puffed up a slightly darker brown than the rest of 
her breasts. And then she hooked her thumbs into the waist 
of her shorts, pulling them over her slim legs and over her 
trainers. She sat there wearing just her frilly cotton knickers 
and her air-soled trainers glancing up at Amna and Aunt 
Salim. Amna gestured impatiently that Dalitha remove 
these last vestiges, which Dalitha did: starting with the 
trainers, which she placed neatly by the pile of clothes she'd 
already removed, and then with a blush that gave a shine 
to her face and chest, she removed her knickers to reveal 
the smooth hair which had spread over her crotch and the 
vaginal crack which pursed inwards rather than out like her 
sister's.

Amna smiled, and then without a word unstrapped Aunt 
Salim's own bra from behind, revealing two very round 
apple-shaped but still womanly breasts: the nipples large in 
a deep aurora of a darker brown than the rest of her light 
brown freckled skin. She kissed her aunt tenderly on the 
cheek. "What do you think of Aunt Sally? Don't you think 
she's beautiful?"

Salim blushed visibly and smiled despite herself. Dalitha 
sighed. "She's very pretty," she ventured.

"And not just here!" announced Amna. Salim stood up 
shyly and removed her own knickers, pulling them down 
over her long slender legs and revealing a very neat vagina, 
almost as beautiful as Fluff's but without any of the folds 
that hung from Amna's lover's crotch. The hair was thick, 
but smooth, sparser than Dalitha's own, forming an almost 
perfect triangle so much darker than her golden brown 
flesh.

Dalitha gasped, but sat paralysed. She felt her skin tighten 
around her face and the nipples on her breasts were 
hardening. "She's very pretty," she repeated. "Very pretty!"

"Have a feel," offered Amna standing up by her aunt and 
wrapping an arm around her. "Don't be afraid. Aunt Sally is 
very gentle."

Dalitha knew that Amna and her aunt made love together, 
but it had never occurred to her that she might also get to 
know her in that way. Nervously, she stood up and walked 
over to Salim. Her aunt leaned down to her smaller niece 
and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. Dalitha gasped. 
Unsure of what to do, she put her arms around her aunt, 
just below her shoulders, leaned her head up, and then 
kissed her aunt back in return.

Gradually, bit by bit, the awkward fumblings became less  
awkward, the kisses became more passionate. As the two 
girls became more intimate, Dalitha couldn't help 
wondering why this was happening. Was it just that her 
aunt found her attractive? Was it that her aunt loved her? 
Or was it, as she came to believe more firmly from the odd 
verbal encouragement from her sister that this encounter 
was engineered by Amna. And had her aunt agreed because 
it seemed the lesser of two evils? And if so, what was the 
other evil? Her mind flashed back to her brief encounter 
with Fluff's flesh and it seemed clear to her, while all else 
began to lose focus as her tongue encircled Aunt Salim's 
nipples and her aunt ran her long fingers up and down her 
slim back. It would have been either Aunt Salim or Fluff. 
And in this way, her aunt was in some sense protecting her.

"So beautiful! And so tasty!" said Amna encouragingly as 
Salim and Dalitha lay on the sofa, guiding her sister down 
to Salim's vagina as Dalitha's tongue probed the tight  
contours of her aunt's belly button. Indeed, it did taste 
strange. And the smell was so overpowering. And then her 
aunt swivelled round, above her, and she felt the muscular 
moistness of a tongue probe her own crotch. And then 
around her tiny clitoris. A tremor of pleasure shook her 
body, followed by another. And then another. Her crotch 
shook violently. And then that tongue probed deeper into 
her, deeper than anything except her own fingers had ever 
been before.

And soon Dalitha was in Salim's bed. Amna left them, 
content that her role in this exchange was complete, and 
Dalitha was in a delirium of pleasure and ecstasy, 
orchestrated and excited by her aunt, who nonetheless 
ensured that only her tongue and none of her fingers 
violated her own vagina. Her nipples were damp with sweat 
and saliva, her mouth retained the taste of Salim's mouth 
and the faint odour of herbs and spices, her taut young 
buttocks pressed against the silk sheets. She looked at 
Salim. Do I love you? she asked as she looked up at the 
vagina above her face, her tongue aching from the effort of 
licking that tender acid-smelling receptacle. Is it love I feel? 
She spasmed again, uncertain of the feelings and emotions 
that erupted inside her. If this is love, it's not as I expected 
it? So animal. So physical. And she loved the taste of 
Salim's skin. Salty and sweet. The curves of those thighs. 
The folds of the vagina. That freckled brown face, and the 
dark pupils in the bright eyes. And the hair with such a 
strange smell of its own as it fell onto her face and 
entangled with her own hair.

And in all this, Salim was strangely quiet. Her own 
thoughts were a confusion of lust, desire and guilt. At least, 
she thought, this kept her darling niece away from that 
disgusting Fluff. And yes, she did enjoy it. It was almost 
like the love she used to know from her darling Amna 
before she'd been corrupted by all her sex film friends. It 
was the innocent, non-penetrative love she'd enjoyed so 
much before. She felt some guilt and remorse from 
reflecting on how young her niece was, but it wasn't her 
youth that attracted her to Dalitha. It was perhaps her 
innocence. Or was it the beauty of those slender thighs, 
those large reflective eyes. The smooth dark skin, hairy as it 
was beginning to be, still unshaven under the arms, and 
tasting sweeter than even Amna. 

It worried her slightly where all this would lead. What 
would happen next? Was this where Amna's demands on 
her lovemaking with her sister end? But undeniably, it had 
resolved some of that strong feeling that had exploded 
inside her when Dalitha held her hand while they watched 
Amna and Fluff at play. That explosion of emotion and lust 
that both Amna and Fluff had noticed and which Amna had 
so mercilessly exploited. But was it wrong? Was this a sin?

Hardly, she mused, her teeth and lips nibbling gently on 
Dalitha's clitoris, feeling her niece's ecstatic spasms. How 
could something so beautiful, so wonderful, be sinful? 
Surely Allah would know that this was no sin and, in any 
case, being between women and within the sacred confines 
of family, how could this ever be seen as anything other 
than the purest of love.




 XLV


Emma was delighted that Tanya had become a frequent 
visitor to her suburban home. She had come to love Tanya's 
body, although she wasn't so sure how well she loved or 
even knew Tanya's mind. But there was nothing about her 
that seemed anything other than the perfect lover: always 
devoted to her, passionate in bed, and the only person 
outside of work with whom she could discuss her job. She 
hadn't realised just how much difference it made to have 
someone to talk to who was as passionate and informed 
about television management and programme production as 
Tanya was. She bubbled with so many good ideas, and 
Emma was pleased to do whatever she could to help further 
the television career of someone who she had come to view 
as her protege. She spoke to producers and other 
executives about Tanya's beauty and her television 
presentation skills, based, she was sure, not just on her 
affection for the girl but also on an objective appraisal of 
her abilities from the many times she'd watched her in the 
Harlot TV studios. She was aware that her reputation for 
quality production and her famous naturist and vegetarian 
credentials gave her judgment rather more weight than the 
opinion of many others.

While Emma did what she could to further Tanya's career, 
her lover seemed not only incredibly grateful (expressing 
her gratitude for each new appointment or pay rise with the 
most passionate lovemaking), but she never seemed 
satisfied. On the one hand she expressed the opinion that 
Emma was seeing too much in her modest talent and that 
she really did not deserve her good fortune. On the other 
hand, it was invariably Tanya who would put the seeds in 
Emma's mind of another area in the Harlot TV hierarchy of 
presenters where her skills could be even better used. 
Emma loved helping Tanya's career. And she loved the 
rewards she gained from her assistance when the two of 
them retreated to Emma's large bed and she could enjoy 
once again that slender frame, the perfect torso and the 
skills of a lover who nonetheless was carefully not to 
indulge in any of Emma's rougher sexual practices.

"I don't want to appear in front of the camera covered in 
bruises," she explained. "That would be most 
unprofessional. As I'm sure you agree."

Emma agreed sadly, but the quality of the other sex they 
enjoyed together was passionate and raw enough, tiring her 
out and leaving her waking up every morning with the 
sweet smell of sweat and vaginal discharge. Sex with Tanya 
was addictive and Emma was addicted.

Emma was concerned about how Maisie would view her 
new lover. She spoke to Maisie about it on one of those 
several nights in the week when Maisie was at home and 
Tanya was elsewhere. She reminded Maisie of her own sex 
life away from Emma with her own other boyfriends and 
girlfriends, not to mention the sex she so often enjoyed in 
front of the camera. She was secretly pleased but also 
worried by Maisie's brief show of jealousy. It was satisfying 
that her young lover was still so desirous of her and 
enjoyed the passionate lovemaking that followed their 
discussion as she reassured the girl that her love for her was 
in no way displaced by her love for the older woman, 
however beautiful she was. 

She expressed her concerns about Maisie to Tanya and was 
pleased when her older lover suggested that the three of 
them should make love together as a means of ensuring that 
Maisie would not become more jealous and see her as some 
kind of a rival for Emma's love. "After all, it's clear to me 
that although you are first in my affections, she is first in 
yours. And I wouldn't like to be responsible, however 
unintentionally, in any lessening of her love for you."

And so it was that Tanya and Emma invited Maisie to make 
love as a threesome in Emma's bed. Maisie readily agreed. 
She enjoyed her conversations with Tanya and had heard 
from Rochester what a good lover she was. In fact, she 
knew that Rochester was still depressed about Tanya 
leaving him for Emma, which actually made her feel the 
more keen to get to know Tanya better. She found Emma's 
other lover very beautiful and of course she'd become quite 
accustomed to seeing her naked around the house. She 
knew that Tanya was not really a naturist, but she was 
aware that Emma preferred nudity in the home. Maisie 
loved the sight of Tanya's trimmed vagina, the long slim 
legs and the way she would sit on the sofa, a broad toothy 
smile on her face as she listened to Maisie talking about the 
pop groups she listened to, the films she watched and the 
other people she worked with. In fact, Tanya seemed 
tremendously knowledgeable about teenage interests for 
such an older woman, but Maisie reckoned that was almost 
certainly a result of her relationship with Rochester. In fact, 
even though it was Tanya and not the boy who had brought 
the relationship to an end, she was curiously solicitous as to 
his welfare and was remarkably sympathetic about his 
apparent heartbreak. 

As all three girls were already naked, there was very little 
prelude to the girls' first lovemaking together. Maisie was 
escorted between the two older, taller women, an arm from 
each around her shoulders and around each others', and her 
arms around their waists. And then into the tastefully 
restrained decor of Emma's bedroom, onto the large bed 
where Emma and she had spent so many nights together, 
her arms around Emma, and Emma's tongue between her 
legs. Maisie lay down, slightly nervously, as she always was 
when she was about to make love with someone new and 
different, and enjoyed the attention of the two older women 
as they stroked and kissed her, their show of affection for 
her punctuated by displays of love towards each other. 
Emma's mouth opened with a slight gasp and plunged her 
lips onto Tanya's lips, while her hands traced Maisie's small, 
not yet fully grown, breasts. And then the mouth 
transferred itself to her own crotch, while Tanya's tongue 
entered Maisie's mouth. It tasted so sweet, the teeth nibbled 
gently on her tongue and lips and her body shivered with 
the massaging of four hands as they trailed around her 
thighs, round her buttocks, around her back.

Bit by bit, the lovemaking became more intense. Maisie 
began reciprocating the love shown her with more passion. 
Her tongue licked the smooth folds of Tanya's vagina, while 
her eyes explored the gorgeous contours and the evenly 
tanned flesh of Emma's older lover. Meanwhile, two 
tongues and two pairs of lips explored and probed her  
vagina and anus. And then fingers entered and explored, 
while Maisie pushed in as many fingers as she dared into 
the forbiddingly perfect orifices of Tanya's lower regions. 
And, inevitably, spasms and tremors of orgasmic pleasure 
rose and crashed and rose again, as the passion became 
ever more urgent, ever more daring and ever hotter and 
sweatier.

From then on, those evenings when both Tanya and Maisie 
were at home became nights when with Emma the three 
girls enjoyed nights of passion which both Emma and 
Maisie found they came to enjoy more than those nights 
when there were just the two of them. Indeed, for Emma, 
sex with Maisie had actually become more frequent now 
that Tanya was around. She almost felt guilty on those 
nights when Maisie was visiting her friends or staying with 
her mother, and on which occasions only she and Tanya 
made love together. It was those nights, however, when 
Tanya and she would talk about Tanya's career and how, 
with Emma's help she was getting more responsible and 
lucrative production roles and taking a more starring role in 
the television shows she co-hosted, or was even the sole 
presenter. Emma felt proud of her role as Tanya's mentor, 
although she guessed that other presenters and producers 
on Harlot TV, no doubt equally as talented, resented 
Emma's part in Tanya's career tangent.

However, Emma needn't have felt guilty about Maisie's 
absence from these nights of passion. Tanya had taken to 
watching Emma's younger lover at work, as Maisie was 
pleased to see. She always preferred it when someone who 
loved her took a direct interest in her work. The sex on 
screen was always the more passionate, her sexual 
techniques the sharper, knowing that either Emma or Tanya 
were in the wings watching her. 

After one show, as Maisie left the studio, wiping the rich 
smelling cream of semen from her chin and lips, she was 
surprised to see Tanya waiting for her just outside her 
dressing room. Normally, Tanya kept a discreet distance, 
perhaps waving at her or smiling encouragingly, but not 
normally to be found in the areas reserved for the stars. She 
ran up to Tanya, crumbs of semen baked on the back of her 
hands, and kissed her lover full on the lips. "What did you 
think of my performance? Jimmy Ratchet was great, wasn't 
he? I just didn't know I could get so much dick in my 
mouth!"

Tanya trailed a hand over Maisie's bare shoulder and an arm 
around her waist. She smiled at Maisie. "Just looking at you 
made me feel hot!" she said uncharacteristically. "That's 
why I thought I'd wait for you here."

"Really!?" exclaimed Maisie. She knew that Tanya was a 
good lover, but she'd never thought that she actually loved 
her. She always thought that it was only because of Emma 
that she and Tanya ever enjoyed making love together. She 
studied Tanya's trim figure: the waist as always uncovered 
from marginally below the hips up to just above the heave 
of her apple-shaped breasts. Those classic curves! That 
clear golden skin! And the smile: teeth so white, eyes so 
libidinous (if faintly calculating), and the cheeks puffed out 
by the broadness of her smile. Tanya gently squeezed one 
of Maisie's sweet round buttocks, and her face and mouth 
descended onto Maisie's.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"Here? In the corridor?"

"No, silly! What have you stars got private dressing rooms 
for?"

Maisie knew that in her case it wasn't really for dressing. 
She wore very few clothes on set. And those that she did 
covered very little of her and rarely any of those assets 
which most people kept hidden. However, it was here that 
her hair was combed and brushed, make-up discreetly 
applied on her face, nipples and the rest of her. After a 
show, Maisie normally just cleaned off whatever stickiness 
and sweat was still clinging to her body, before picking up 
the shoulder bag where she kept her music player and 
headphones, and what few clothes might be necessary 
should she venture into the streets outside the television 
studios. This time she knew that the dressing room would 
be serving quite a different purpose as, still hugging each 
other, Tanya pushed open the door and the two of them 
rolled into its confines.

Maisie looked at their reflection in the wall-length mirror as 
they cuddled by the door. Tanya so much taller than her: 
taller indeed than most fully grown women. The serpentine 
curves of her body against Maisie's youthful slender frame. 
And then as Tanya eased down her shorts and unclasped 
her top, the full uninterrupted view of Tanya's beauty. Still 
the most beautiful woman Maisie had made love to. More 
beautiful even than Emma, whom she so dearly loved.

The girls clung together and fell onto the floor and rolled 
around on the carpeted floor together. Tanya's tongue 
probing into the smooth crevices of Maisie's vagina, her 
hands grasping her buttocks, her fingers insinuating 
themselves into her arse. Maisie groaned and moaned, 
unable to compete in the artistry of lovemaking, 
surrendering herself to Tanya's tongue, teeth, fingers and 
flesh. Sweat poured down her chest, her nipples shone in 
the harsh neon of the dressing room lights, her tongue 
ached from its exertions in Tanya's own crotch: the taste of 
Tanya's vagina rich in her nose. And then back against the 
mirror, with Tanya pushing crotch against crotch, the two 
of them standing. Maisie moaned and shook her head, 
vaguely conscious through the spasms of ecstasy shaking 
through her frame of her lover examining her own 
reflection in the mirror with a curiously dispassionate 
vanity. 

Tanya pursed her lips and tenderly kissed Maisie on the 
cheek and ear. "We must do this again," she said.

"We must! We must!" gasped Maisie as Tanya gently 
eased herself down her body, her tongue trailing down her 
face, throat, breasts, stomach, and finally to where it was 
somehow most at home, slobbering and prodding about in 
Maisie's crotch.

Their sessions of lovemaking together without Emma's 
knowledge or prior consent became more frequent. Maisie 
looked forward to those occasions when she and Tanya met 
at work, and even at home there would be times when 
Emma was in another room or working late that the two of 
them would exchange kisses and caresses. And sometimes, 
when it seemed that Emma would never find out, more 
passionate sessions.

There inevitably came the occasion when Tanya invited 
Maisie to stay the night with her at her flat with the excuse 
that Rochester, Maisie's own-time co-presenter, was also 
visiting. This was an opportunity that Maisie couldn't 
refuse. Much as she loved the attentions of her female 
lovers she also enjoyed the rather different passion and the 
very different sex that a male lover provided. But she and 
Tanya colluded, on Tanya's suggestion, to hide the exact 
nature of their separate nights away from Emma. 

Maisie enjoyed her night with Tanya. Her flat was different 
to Emma's house. So much closer to the centre of town and 
all its attractions, and the decor was so different from 
Emma's. None of that ethnic furniture that Maisie thought 
so tacky, none of those rugs and cushions which made 
Emma's home so miscellaneous and inconsistent, and 
paintings and pictures more figurative and somehow more 
urban. And sex with Rochester was great. Even though he 
was only a bit older than Maisie herself, he had the sex 
skills of a practised porn star, as he now was since he'd got 
a part as the difficult nephew in the new soap opera, 
Connecticut Square. 

It was clear that his prick felt more at home inside Tanya 
than inside Maisie and he kept trying to grab more of Tanya's 
attention than hers, but Tanya would have none of this. She 
only allowed him inside her once Maisie was fully satisfied. 
She loved the taste of cock, she loved its thrust in her groin 
and she loved the feel of Rochester's body against her. She 
joined Tanya as the two of them took his erect penis in their 
hands and their two mouths worked at its stiff length, their 
two moist and dripping tongues touching against the other, 
and their lips parting to allow both tongue and prick to 
enter. However, Rochester was less than pleased as, the 
lovemaking progressing, Tanya's tongue and mouth found 
its way to Maisie's crotch more often than it did to his own, 
however tumescent and however much he clearly needed it.

Emma was not sure when her idyllic menage a trois became 
less idyllic. It was certainly after the board meeting where 
Emma proposed that Tanya should take a senior position 
within the Harlot TV hierarchy in a role at least as senior as 
her own. She was surprised by how readily her proposal 
was accepted by the other members of the board. She'd 
somehow imagined that there would be more opposition, 
particularly as Tanya's rise had been so meteoric, unlike her 
own and unlike that of most of her colleagues. She was also 
taken aback by how strong the support was amongst the 
male majority, not suspecting that Tanya was quite capable 
of petitioning on her own behalf both in the bed and out. It 
was scarcely unanimous. One or two members protested 
that Tanya's administrative skills hadn't yet had the 
opportunity to mature, and others that as a presenter she 
was good, but not really that good. However, they all 
concurred when the oldest member of the board, who was 
at least in his sixties opined that whatever else Tanya was 
she was a good fuck, and anyone as good a fuck as her 
deserved to get on in the organisation.

Emma began to notice that her lovemaking sessions with 
Tanya only ever happened with Maisie: she and Tanya 
never made love alone. And, reluctantly, she was aware 
that the passion that Tanya showed for Maisie was 
exceeding that she'd ever shown for Emma, and indeed that 
the passion she expressed towards Emma was less than it 
had been: even in the deepest throes, even when dildos 
were deep inside either of them, even when Emma was 
orgasming in the delirious, unfocussed, helpless way that 
came on her when she was most taken away by the 
exertions of sex.

And there were the increasing numbers of evening when 
she was alone. When both Tanya and Maisie were 
elsewhere. She might have suspected they were together, 
but Maisie had, anyway, often stayed away from home at 
night long before Tanya became a significant player and 
she readily accepted Tanya's explanations that her increased 
workload was taking up her evenings. But even when only 
Maisie was there and the two were embracing in her bed, 
there was less of the old passion.

Maisie herself was becoming aware, at first vaguely and 
then more acutely, that her relative passion was becoming 
greater for Tanya than for Emma. Tanya was so much fun 
to be with. Always showering her with gifts like the CDs 
which although sometimes a bit off the mark generally 
approximated to her taste in music. Something which 
Emma had never done. Such an accomplished and 
uninhibited lovemaker. Never afraid of taking Maisie out to 
night clubs and restaurants. For her, the nightlife of the city 
was so alluring and so much fun. Whilst Emma, however 
much they'd love each other, had never been so fun. She 
was always so serious, so protective of her lover and young 
ward. And with all those weird eccentricities, like naturism 
and vegetarianism. She could never imagine having such a 
wild time in a night club with Emma, as she and Tanya 
gyrated and boogied to the pumping dance sounds that 
thundered around her, and her uninhibited lovemaking 
under the flashing lights, not caring at all about the 
lascivious stares of the less bombed-out fellow dancers. She 
loved the feel of Tanya's tongue on her naked body as the 
chords rose and fell on their emotional highs and lows, and 
she appreciated Tanya's empathy on the come down as the 
effects of the pills and alcohol gradually gave way to the 
inevitable lows and hangovers.

Emma may not have known how much time her lovers 
were spending together without her, but she was noticing 
the change in her life more and more acutely. Her work 
began to suffer as her emotions conflicted with her 
business. She forgot to attend meetings, she missed 
deadlines, she made more and more mistakes. All the while 
conscious of Tanya's increased presence in Harlot TV's 
intercinine politics and her ever-increasing profile within the 
station.

And then, Tanya stopped visiting her altogether. And at 
work she was polite, but no longer intimate. Emma became 
more aware of the attentions she was attracting and 
encouraging from the more senior people in the Harlot TV 
hierarchy. She became accustomed to seeing Tanya kissing 
and cuddling other people. And even fucking them, as she 
discovered on a visit to Amelia's office. It wasn't just that 
she was having sex with her one-time lover that appalled 
her, but her unashamedness and the all too obvious 
intensity of their passion.

"Why don't you visit anymore?" Emma challenged Tanya 
with an effort when the two met by chance at a coffee 
machine.

Tanya smiled. But distantly, with none of that affection in 
her face that Emma still remembered and cherished so well. 
"Oh, Emma! I would do. But work! You know how it is ..."

Emma now knew for sure that she would never sleep with 
Tanya again. But at least she had Maisie to love. Even if 
she was out so many evenings these days. She was a little 
worried about her young lover. When they did meet, she 
seemed so tired and exhausted. And she never seemed to 
have the energy, or even the inclination, to share Emma's 
ever-welcome bed. This was bad enough, but the next 
shock demonstrated to Emma how much she had lost what 
she had once had: something which had for a while seemed 
so perfect, and had swollen her with pride, lust and 
contentment. Maisie shyly but firmly announced that she 
was leaving her to live with Tanya.

"With Tanya!" gasped Emma. "I didn't know that you and 
she were still ... Or had ever without me ... Tell me this 
isn't true. You and she! What about me? I thought I was 
your lover. All those times you ... What's happened?"

Maisie was very sad. She had hoped this would never 
happen, but when Tanya had suggested she move in to her 
city flat, so close to everything that was happening, she 
knew that there was really no choice. Emma was no longer 
what she had been in her eyes anymore. And although she 
knew there was no lessening in Emma's love for her: she 
was a young girl. She had a life ahead of her. She was too 
young to settle down.

"I'm sorry," Maisie sniffed, weeping despite herself. 
Although it wasn't love like it used to be, she still loved 
Emma. "It's better if I leave. I love Tanya. I love her so 
much. I want to stay with her. It's not because I want to 
leave you. It's because I want to be with Tanya."

Emma cried out loud in despair. How had this happened? How 
had Tanya, who she'd trusted and loved ... How could she? 
Emma grasped Maisie to her chest, hoping that naked body 
against naked body, that somehow everything would be 
reversed, and Maisie would say that she was sorry, that 
she hadn't meant it, that really she still loved Emma 
more than Tanya.

But it wasn't to be. Maisie disengaged herself from Emma's 
caress politely, but firmly. And after a few embarrassed 
moments of sniffled remorse and apologies, she left Emma's 
home and spent the night at Tanya's flat. The following 
evening, when Emma came home from a miserable, 
unproductive day at work, she found that all Maisie's 
possessions were gone. On the table were Maisie's house 
key and a scrawled note from the young girl saying: "I love 
you Emma. But I love Tanya more. I'm sure you'll find 
someone else. XX"

Emma burst into tears and didn't stop crying. She had never 
wanted someone else. She had only ever wanted Maisie. 
Her first evening alone was spent sat naked on the sofa 
with the company of a bottle of gin and the backdrop of a 
succession of plaintive ballads mournfully selected from her 
CD collection.




 XLVI


Pregnancy was not a pleasant ordeal. In fact, as she came 
closer to giving birth, Charlotte came to more and more 
wish that it was over and done with. The weight of her  
unborn child had become more and more of a burden and 
at times she almost resented its presence within her womb: 
something that gave her feelings of remorse and worry 
whether she was really ever meant to do be a mother. After 
all, she was a lesbian and children were something lesbians 
were not supposed to have or to worry about. Even if she 
viewed Josephine as the true spiritual father of her child. 
And the pain of pregnancy wasn't just in her stomach, but in 
her swollen breasts and weighed down her spine and made 
her feel sick and nauseous every morning. Would it ever 
end?

Her last day of work before taking maternal leave was a sad 
one. She did very little work on this day: less than even the 
little work she was allocated by her sympathetic bosses. She 
kissed her naked colleagues goodbye, and let herself be 
escorted home by Enid, letting the young girl embrace and 
kiss her even though in truth she no longer had much 
appetite or inclination for even Enid's very tender 
lovemaking. 

Josephine also took time off work, turning down all offers 
of work so that she could be by her spouse's side as she 
came closer to the day of her hospital appointment. 
Josephine was uncertain how to behave, clearly unsettled 
by Charlotte's loss of sexual appetite: cancelling all the 
advances of the men who had been such a reliable source of 
pleasure and distraction up till then. The two girls would 
nestle together under the sheets of their bed indulging an 
appetite for chocolate and cookies rather than sexual 
ecstasy. In fact, Josephine was sure she felt Charlotte's 
pregnancy almost as much as if it were her own: worried 
indeed whether she might herself gain weight from all the 
high-calorie food she was sharing. 

Even the times Josephine spent away from Charlotte, 
shopping or making arrangements for the birth, felt almost 
like betrayal to her. She felt her true role was to be her 
wife's constant companion. She worried as she filled  
her basket in the supermarket whether even these moments 
of separation would be moments she would forever regret 
as moments she should have been by Charlotte's side when 
the spasms which were happening so infrequently now 
would break into the pattern her ante-natal classes had 
warned her about.

But when it happened, there was an air of inevitability 
about it. Charlotte's spasms came with the rhythmic 
regularity that were expected, the taxi-ride through the city 
was tense but not unforeseen: she had even had the 
presence of mind to dress Charlotte for a world where her 
nudity would be frowned on, and even to pack the night-
gown that she had the foresight to buy for the hospital 
ward. There was no such thing as a hospital or even a ward 
for the committed naturist.

Josephine stayed with Charlotte as she endured the many 
hours of labour and finally witnessed the emergence of the 
new baby, as its head emerged damp and squashed from 
between Charlotte's legs. It was a boy: healthy and 
vigorous as demonstrated by his first cries as it came into 
the world. So it was a Thomas Edward, as the two girls had 
agreed, not an Emma Susan. And as soon as he was lifted 
to the air by the midwife, placenta dripping from his shiny 
skin, umbilical cord dangling from his navel, Josephine 
could see that it would be less difficult than she'd imagined 
to hazard who the actual biological father could be. His 
skin was a light chocolate brown, which meant that the 
father would have been one of the two or was it three black 
men that Charlotte had had sex with in that fateful few 
weeks nine months before when he had been conceived.

Charlotte was exhausted by her hours of exertion, but 
nonetheless desperate to see who she had borne. She yelped 
with a delight as the baby settled down in her arms while 
the midwifes and doctors busied themselves. She was now 
a mother, and, she thought, smiling at her anxious lover, 
Josephine was now a father.

She stayed in hospital for less than a week, in which time all 
her friends visited. Enid and Hyacinth, Susan and 
Rosemary, colleagues from work and Josephine's parents. 
Maisie visited, but by herself, with neither Tanya nor Emma 
for company: she was as fascinated as anyone by the sight 
of the little boy: his small walnut crumpled face, his puffy 
eyes, the small perfectly formed hands that opened and 
closed without grasping on anything, and the bush of black 
curls over his light chocolate brown face. Charlotte smiled 
indulgently at young Thomas, while Maisie sat on the edge 
of the bed, uncertain as what to say or do.

"Where's Emma?" Charlotte asked, disappointed that her 
closest friend hadn't come to see her. "Is she busy?"

Maisie shook her head sadly. "I don't know. I've left her. 
I'm staying at Tanya's now."

"Tanya?" wondered Charlotte. She glanced at Josephine, 
who was sitting on the chair at the side of the bed just by 
the assortment of cards and fruit that people had brought 
in. Over the past few weeks her concerns had been 
primarily focused on her own pains and trials, but she and 
Josephine had noticed that Emma was distinctly less happy 
than she had been. In fact, they had noticed Emma's mood 
in recent months climb to a level of cheerfulness that was 
quite unusual in such an intense woman and then, quite 
suddenly, descend to a kind of despondency. And now, at 
this important moment of Charlotte's life, where was she? 
Charlotte had always dimly relied on Emma's support and 
sympathy in making these difficult decisions of marriage 
and motherhood, and she was surprised by how acutely she 
was wounded by its apparent absence. 

Maisie eulogised about Tanya and expressed her sadness 
about leaving Emma. "But it had to happen. We've been 
together for such an absolutely long time."

Josephine tenderly kissed Maisie, aware of how guilt in 
leaving Emma was welling up in her, and how Charlotte 
was clearly quite upset at the news of her best friend's loss, 
and, knowing Emma's passion for the girl, how miserable 
she must now feel without her. Perhaps it was because of 
this sorrow that Emma hadn't visited her in these days?

In fact, Emma did visit, but only briefly. She arrived early in 
the visiting hours, looking pale and slightly unwell, and 
quite uncomfortable in the long thin overcoat she wore to 
cover her nakedness. She wasn't very chatty and smiled 
only very politely. Her thoughts were not focused on 
Charlotte or little Thomas at all. Charlotte could see that 
her best friend was not overly keen on children anyway. 
She showed very little of the enthusiasm for babies that 
most of her visitors displayed and asked only the most 
perfunctory questions about his well-being. And then she 
left, leaving a very sad kiss on Charlotte's cheeks and lips, 
and swept out of the hospital ward, caring little as always 
for the eyes that trailed behind her, questioning just how 
much was not hidden beneath her coat.

Soon, Charlotte was out of the hospital and back at the flat 
she now shared only with Josephine and the baby. She was 
still weak, and felt rather depressed despite herself. She 
didn't know how she was supposed to feel, although the 
ante-natal classes had given her fair warning that recovery 
from childbirth was by no means instantaneous. Part of her 
felt that she should be feeling more positively about life 
now that she had achieved what she had been hoping for so 
very much for all these months. But instead she felt drained 
and somewhat disorientated by the strange routine of life 
dictated by Thomas' needs to eat and sleep, and his equal 
and consequent needs to shit, piss and vomit.

Josephine stayed by her side as much as she could, doing 
rather more than her fair share of feeding the baby, caring 
for Charlotte's needs and keeping house. She also acted as 
hostess to the stream of visitors coming to see how the new 
mother was and to admire the progress of little Thomas. 
And when there were no visitors and she had no chores to 
attend to, she would lay on the bed next to Charlotte, 
holding her close, admiring the stomach which had so 
recently swollen so monstrously, and showed clear signs of 
the stretching, the swollen breasts and the lactating nipples, 
and Charlotte's sad plaintive smiles as they lay hand in hand 
on the bed.

Much as Josephine so much desired Charlotte's body, sex 
was not the frantic frequent affair of not long distant 
months ago. Cuddling, caressing and kissing was usually all 
there was, although Charlotte had the energy and 
inclination to take Josephine's clitoris and vulva to her 
mouth and lick, chew and taste the object of her most 
passionate desire. Josephine knelt up, her knees on either 
side of Charlotte's chest, her arms supporting herself up 
against the bedroom wall, while below she felt the familiar 
lapping of her wife's tongue amongst the folds and contours 
of her most private parts. She could see that even this little 
amount of lovemaking was all Charlotte was as yet willing 
to embrace and that it would be several more weeks until 
sex between the two of them would recover its previous 
pitch, and longer still until Charlotte would once again 
entertain the company of men.

Enid was Charlotte's most frequent visitor. She would sit 
naked bestraddled on the massive double bed, holding 
Charlotte's hand and staring admiringly into her eyes. 
Josephine, however, knew that as much as Enid loved 
Charlotte, even though they had only made love together 
on less than a dozen occasions, it was towards herself that 
Enid's feelings were strongest. The girl's reaction was so 
transparent whenever Josephine took her by the hand or 
gave her a kiss. Enid's mouth would open in ever-frustrated 
anticipation and her eyes would close invitingly. 

Then Thomas burst into tears from his cot at the end of the 
bed. Josephine jumped up and picked up the baby who 
instinctively grasped at her naked breasts and fixed his wet 
hungry lips on Josephine's nipples.

"There's nothing for you there, Tommy!" Josephine said 
with a good-humoured smile pulling the disappointed child 
off from her bare breasts and passing him over to Charlotte, 
who very quickly cradled the baby in her arms and 
manoeuvred her large aureate breasts towards the baby's 
greedy toothless mouth. Enid was fascinated to see the very 
different hunger that Charlotte's breasts were satisfying, so 
different in kind from that which they had so often done for 
her.

Charlotte looked at Enid as Thomas drank the milk from 
her nipples, as the girl sat with Josephine's arm around her 
shoulder at the foot of the bed. She reflected on Enid's lust 
for Josephine and smiled sadly. 

"You can, you know," she said. "I don't mind." 

"What do you mean?" gasped Enid, uncertain that she had 
heard right, but nonetheless aware of the tightening squeeze 
on her upper arm from Josephine who had heard quite 
clearly and knew exactly what her spouse was saying.

"I know what you want," Charlotte elaborated. "And I 
know what Josephine wants, too. But as for me ... I don't 
know ... after all that effort: the straining and whatever ... 
I'm just not so keen. And I so want Josephine to be happy."

"If you're sure?" asked Josephine extending an arm out 
to the hand that wasn't supporting Thomas.

"I'm sure," said Charlotte firmly, seeing that Thomas was 
now fed and, just as suddenly as he'd awoken, had fallen 
back to sleep. She lifted the boy up to her wife, who carried 
him carefully and tenderly back to his cot. Enid watched 
with a thumping heart, her breath short with dread and 
anticipation, as she watched Josephine's arched, tall naked 
form bend over the cot: the line of her spine raised up and 
trailing down in descending hummocks to the valley of her 
buttocks. 

And then, making sure the baby was settled, Josephine 
turned around to display the full beauty of her perfect body: 
the swan-like neck, the slim waist, the natural firm breasts, 
and the tidy triangular patch of hair that almost obscured 
her greatest treasures. She strode towards the bed, a broad 
smile across her face, her eyes shining in that unmistakeable 
way that Enid had come to recognise in Charlotte when 
they had made love, and the cheeks shining like a pair of 
apples between the lines of her toothy smile and the 
sparkling jewels of her eyes.

Enid felt her passion rise from a deep well of longing as 
Josephine's lips approached her own, and then she was lost 
in passion and desire as their lips met, their tongues battled 
against each other, and Josephine's hands explored her 
naked body. Awkwardly she opened her arms and grasped 
Josephine's body to her own, pulling her down onto the bed 
on top of her, breathing heavily as her lust and desire 
erupted from her and shook her body in a way that she'd 
only experienced before with Charlotte. And then hands, 
lips, fingers, tongue all over her body as Enid returned the 
intimacy as best she could. Josephine was at last in her 
arms! That beautiful body, the face which shone a beauty 
greater than the sum of any parts! Such ecstasy!

Charlotte lay beside the pair, her lower torso and legs 
beneath the duvet and sheets that covered her, watching 
with approval the lovemaking of her wife and her 
colleague. Her hand moved down beneath the sheets and 
stroked her crotch as it moistened from the pleasure 
Josephine's pleasure brought to her. She had worried so 
much that her wife had sacrificed so much for her, and here 
in the form of this little girl of such single-minded passion 
was what was needed to bring relief. As her fingers 
explored her clitoris and the slippery folds of her vulva, she 
wondered if she had the energy to participate, but though a 
part of her desired the thrust and grapple of sex, she knew 
she had none of the energy and somehow lost the sexual 
inclination to relieve herself in such a gross physical way.

Josephine took Charlotte's hand in hers while her tongue 
and eyes explored Enid's vagina, the rich whiff of passion 
filling her nostrils, her tongue and lips slipping on the moist 
folds of the vulva, small strands of brown hair between her 
teeth and tickling the back of her tongue. Beneath her, she 
could feel Enid convulse with pleasure, shuddering as her 
sweaty body slid about on the sheets by the pushed-back 
duvet, her tongue and teeth and nose thrust deep inside her 
own vagina, a finger occasionally probing and exploring the 
puckered anus and adding to the pleasure of sex she had 
almost forgotten these past few weeks.

And eventually, after gasps, cries and yelps of pent-up 
passion and release, the couple disengaged and slumped on 
the sheets by the side of Charlotte. With a sigh, Charlotte 
put an arm under and around the two lovers and her lips 
tenderly kissed Josephine's cheek. Such bliss! Such joy!

And then, as babies do when disturbed by unfamiliar sounds 
and smells, Thomas suddenly burst into tears, demanding 
yet more succour. Without a thought, Josephine pulled 
herself away from the caresses of both Enid and Charlotte 
and rushed to bring the baby to the teat it desired so much. 
As she carried the yelling baby, she smiled with pleasure at 
the stretched out forms of Enid and Charlotte over the 
disarray of sheet, duvet and pillow: the one with a breast 
raised by a hand to receive Thomas' eager mouth and the 
other engulfed in the silliest of grins, curled up in a foetal 
ball and her arms thrust between her legs. So, she thought 
as she passed Thomas to his mother, this is what married 
life is like.




 XLVII


The shock of losing Maisie hit Emma harder than she could 
have ever imagined. She lost the will to get up in the 
morning, to care for herself, and even to go to work. Every 
venture into the world beyond her house was a struggle. 
She hated the looks she got from other people and 
imagined that everyone was aware of her loss, whereas, of 
course, most people were simply trying to establish what it 
was she wore underneath her loose clothes. These visits 
were almost always brief ones to fill her fridge with food 
that most often she had lost the appetite to eat, and just 
once to see Charlotte and her new baby at the hospital. This 
depressed her even more as she felt so inadequate to 
express to her best friend how pleased she was that the 
child-birth had been so successful.

She didn't tell anyone at work for over a week she wasn't 
coming in and was extremely upset when she got a very 
brusque and angry phone call from Amelia who demanded 
that she return to work immediately. She went to bed with 
the full intention of returning, but when she awoke she was 
too depressed to carry her resolution through. Instead, she 
went to a doctor and got a sick note to excuse her from 
work. Her next communique from Harlot TV came as even 
more of a shock. She was told in no uncertain terms that 
her recent work was simply not of the high standard that 
the station had come to expect from her and was frankly 
totally unsatisfactory. She was given three months notice, 
which started retrospectively from the first day she had 
failed to turn up to work, and was informed that she was not 
expected back at the studio.

Her depression exploded into tears and cries which 
darkened even further the clouds which gathered in her 
head and made normal life impossible for her. She returned 
to bed where she stayed all day, wailing her misfortune, 
comforted only by thoughts of self-pity and tortured by 
rage and anger at Tanya. She had been betrayed by one 
who had taken advantage of her good nature and stolen the 
love of her life from her, and now she was left to fend for 
herself. And not very well either.

The days passed by, each one indistinguishable from the 
one before, Emma's rests in bed often lasting all day. She 
lost the ability to concentrate on literature or any reading 
matter at all. In fact, other than weep and flagellate herself 
with her regrets and despair, all she could do was watch the 
most mindless and undemanding television programmes. No 
programme was too banal, no show too hackneyed: quiz 
shows, soap operas, chat shows, and news programmes. 
She lost all appetite for sex television whose content only 
served to remind her of what she was missing. She read the 
mail that arrived with more attention than ever before, 
though most of it was junk mail, and most of the rest were 
bills. She lost the appetite to check her e-mails, and the only 
music she felt inclined to play was as despondent as the 
mood she felt.

It was while she was sitting on the sofa, listening to a 
requiem, that she heard her doorbell ring. She wasn't 
expecting a visitor: in fact, she lived quite some way from 
her friends and was never used to calls anyway. Her heart 
began beating in foolish anticipation and hope. Was it 
Maisie? Had she had enough of Tanya? Had she come to 
realise that it was only with her that she'd ever find true 
love? She hurried to the door, and peeked through the 
eyehole, half-expecting Maisie and half-expecting a 
postman. 

What she saw, distorted by the magnification of the 
eyehole, was Charlotte and Josephine standing at the 
entrance: Charlotte with Thomas clinging to the bare breast 
she uncovered under the long coat which was all she wore. 
She hesitated. Could she let her friend see her like this? A 
perverse sense of self-worthlessness almost persuaded her 
to pretend she wasn't in, but her love for Charlotte and her 
regret that she'd not seen her best friend since she'd left 
hospital got the better of her, and she carefully opened the 
door, forgetting that she was still naked and would once 
again scandalise the posh neighbourhood.

"Emma!" smiled Charlotte. "How are you? We were so 
worried. We heard you'd lost your job. And we heard about 
Maisie. Can we come in?"

"Of course! Of course!" said Emma, unable to smile and 
feeling wretched for her lack of friendliness.

Charlotte and Josephine entered the house; Charlotte 
immediately feeling guilty that she'd not come to see her 
friend sooner. But it was not easy being a mother. Thomas 
was so demanding, and it was only recently she had 
recovered sufficiently to venture out of the flat herself. 
Emma was clearly not herself. Her home showed the signs 
of neglect. Nothing had been cleaned, polished or even 
tidied away. An untidy row of empty bottles lined the hall-
way, and some magazines had been left on the floor in an 
untidy heap where Emma had dropped them and had never 
bothered to throw away. The living room where Emma 
took them was similarly untidy. Cushions lying on the 
floor, a rug turned up at the corner, records and books 
scattered about randomly. Normally Emma was so tidy. 
Almost obsessively so. And now everything was untidy and 
unclean. Even her long hair was tangled and unwashed, and 
Charlotte couldn't help noticing there was the slight smell 
of mustiness from her unshowered skin. She handed 
Thomas over to Josephine, who was wearing a sober blue 
blouse and white skirt, and grabbed Emma around the 
shoulders and pulled her towards her.

"We've been so worried!" Charlotte cried. "We haven't 
heard from you so long! We thought you might be busy at 
work, but Maisie told us how you'd been sacked. Is it 
because you're sad that Maisie's left you?"

Emma nodded and sniffed bitterly. "It was that cow Tanya! 
She picked me up, exploited me and then just threw me 
away. And then, as if that wasn't enough she took my little 
Maisie away from me!"

Charlotte smiled sadly at Josephine, as if to say that it was 
as they'd suspected. "You must forget about Maisie now. 
She's gone. I don't know what this Tanya's like. I've never 
spoken to her; but Maisie's made her choice and what's 
done is done. It's you that you should think about. Did you 
lose your job because of Maisie? Or was there some other 
reason?"

Emma sank her head onto Charlotte's bare shoulder, tears 
bursting through and onto her friend. "I was so depressed. I 
am so depressed. I just lost the will to go to work. Or even, 
sometimes, to live. It's been so hard."

"Now, now," said Charlotte comfortingly, patting her friend 
on her bare back, aware of the desire returning in her for 
her friend, despite her express intention not to feel that 
way. She held Emma to her while Josephine watched with 
sympathy, Thomas gurgling contentedly in her arms.

Josephine then placed the baby in the carry-cot the girls had 
brought along with them and tucked him under the thin 
woollen blanket, naked except for his nappies. She then 
removed her clothes and sat down on a chair, her legs 
crossed and her arms folded. Charlotte took this as a cue, 
and eased Emma off her, as she removed her coat to reveal 
her own naked body. Despite herself Emma was interested 
to see the changes child-birth had brought on her friend. 
Her breasts were fuller and her nipples much more 
prominent. She was still somewhat fatter round the waist 
than she used to be and there were stretch-marks on her 
stomach. She kissed Charlotte tenderly, aware of her 
selfishness in not paying more attention to her friend's 
needs.

"How is Thomas?" she asked.

"He's doing very well. He had a small fever last week. We 
were very worried, but apparently it's quite normal in small 
babies."

Conversation became more relaxed as the girls discussed 
motherhood, and then gradually took in gossip on the girls' 
friends and how life was back at the flat. Charlotte 
complained how the flat somehow didn't seem right for the 
needs of parenthood. Josephine joked about the trials of 
feeding the baby and changing his nappies. Despite herself, 
Emma felt a smile break across her face as Josephine 
described in detail the problems they'd faced in cleaning up 
his sick and excrement, and some of the comments that had 
been made to them as a lesbian couple with a baby.

Charlotte sat next to Emma on the sofa and stroked and 
kissed her as they spoke, her mind flashing back to her 
earlier desires for her friend, and finding that they were still 
inside her. On occasion her lust for Emma overwhelmed her 
and she would kiss her friend on the cheek or on the face, 
tenderly wiping off the tears with her tongue, her arms 
around Emma's shoulders. Emma also began to feel the 
warmth in her feelings for Charlotte return, gingerly at first, 
and then ever more boldly, her own arms looped around 
Charlotte's waist and she stroked the stomach which had so 
recently carried such a greater load.

It was Josephine though who had the presence of mind to 
take the initiative. She eased herself up out of the chair and 
walked over to the other side of Emma and trailed her arms 
around the girl. Emma smiled as conversation dwindled to 
nothing and everything was spoken in gestures and smiles. 
And then, inevitable as it was, Josephine put her lips to 
Emma's and held them there. Emma's mouth opened and 
tongues joined together. 

Charlotte meanwhile allowed her hands to probe down her 
friend's stomach, as Emma's had on hers, but her fingers 
trailed between her legs. Emma responded with a sigh and 
parted her thighs to let Charlotte's fingers more welcome 
entry, while her tongue and teeth battled with those of 
Josephine's. The three girls remained in this position, sitting 
on the sofa, Thomas snoozing away in his cot, as the 
caresses became bolder and more sensual.

And soon the three girls were stretched out, on the floor, 
on the sofa, arms and legs stretched, fingers, tongues and 
lips probing and exploring the folds and contours of bodies 
known so familiarly but not enjoyed together for so long. 
Emma's curiosity about Charlotte's changed body was 
satisfied, while Josephine cuddled her spouse and tongued 
Emma's vagina. Gradually and sensually, their bodies 
became hotter and sweatier: words not passing any lips but 
instead concentration focused on genitals, breasts and 
faces. Their bodies shook and shuddered sympathetically, 
only grunts and moans coming from any of them. Emma's 
long tangled hair mixed in the strands of Charlotte's own 
long hair, while beneath them Josephine busied herself as 
equally as she could between the two vaginas, fingers in 
both and a tongue now in one and then with a sigh 
transferred to the other.

But final orgasm was not achieved. Just as Charlotte felt 
that for the first time since she'd given birth she would once 
again feel those delicious feelings erupt in her body, 
scramble her senses and dissolve her soul into a total 
oneness with her friend and her wife, Thomas chose to 
release a loud wail that totally startled Emma who had 
never heard such a sound before in such close proximity.

"The darling's hungry!" exclaimed Charlotte pulling her 
senses together and leaping out of the sofa as quickly as her 
battered sweaty body could allow her. 

Thomas continued crying until Charlotte picked him up, 
cradled his nappied body to her breasts, and offered him a 
red raw nipple to suckle: which he did with a voracious 
hunger that rather alarmed Emma. Did Charlotte have 
enough milk in her to satisfy the little monster's appetite? 
she wondered ungraciously.

Without Charlotte, Josephine felt it was not right that she 
should continue making love to Emma, so she took her 
tongue and fingers away from the swelling mound of her 
vagina and sat on the sofa next to her, her arms around 
Emma's shoulders and a hand in Emma's hand. 

"Thomas is such a demanding baby!" she commented to 
Emma with a broad, almost maternal, grin. "I love him so 
much! I'm so lucky to have him almost for my own. And 
Charlotte too, of course!"

Emma nodded, agreeing and also feeling a pang of regret 
that she had so often spurned Charlotte's affection and had 
instead focused it on a girl who was ultimately so 
ungrateful. She watched indulgently as Charlotte's breast 
which she'd so recently enjoyed for her own pleasure was 
now giving so much succour to the young baby, who held 
onto it so greedily, his brown skin such a contrast against 
Charlotte's own pale flesh.

When Charlotte had finished suckling Thomas, the girls 
didn't resume their lovemaking. Instead, they sat together 
on the sofa, arms around each other, making no attempt to 
resurrect their interrupted passion.

"So, what are you going to do now?" asked Charlotte. 
"Now that you've lost your job? Are you going to look for 
another?"

"I don't know," sniffed Emma sadly. "I've made such a mess 
of everything. Soon all the money will run out and I've got 
a mortgage on this house to maintain. I don't know how I 
can find a job that pays as well as the one I've had. And I 
don't think I've got the self-confidence to look for another 
one in the television industry."

"Any job would do to start off with," Josephine remarked. 
"Any job which gets you out and about. Or anything at all 
that gets you out of the house."

"I just don't know what to do. There aren't many jobs for 
committed naturists like me. I just wouldn't know what to 
do if I had to work wearing clothes."

"Aren't there naturist resorts with jobs, though?" wondered 
Josephine. "I'm sure there must be. There are loads of them. 
Why don't you go to one of those?"

"I hadn't thought of that. They're always advertising for 
committed naturists to work in the hotels, restaurants and 
things. But that would mean leaving the house. What would 
happen to it then? Would I have to give it up?"

Josephine sighed. She looked at Charlotte imploringly. "I 
don't know. Perhaps you'll have to sell it. Or take on 
lodgers or something."

"Or we could stay here," announced Charlotte. "We need 
more space. Would that be a good idea, Emma darling?"

Emma frowned. She'd not really thought at all on what she 
should do next. She'd worried so much about what she had 
lost, and had worried so much on what more that there was 
left to lose, that she'd never really entertained any options 
other than despair and further loss.

"It's a good idea," she mused. "And any work would be 
better than none, I suppose. And there are quite a few 
naturist resorts. I've never visited any of them. Well, not 
since I was a student. And that was with friends from the 
university naturist Society. NatSoc it was called." She 
smiled good-humouredly, despite herself. "We took 
ourselves so seriously. We thought that all you had to do 
was take your clothes off and not eat meat, and the whole 
world's problems would end. But all we ever did was drink 
too much and talk a load of rubbish."

Emma mused quietly as she recalled her youth. Where had 
all that idealism gone? But Josephine and Charlotte were 
right. It was a realistic solution. Once out of the house, 
maybe memories of Maisie would fade and she could regain 
the confidence she needed to make her way in her chosen 
profession.

"But what'll happen to the flat?" she asked, recalling all the 
days she had spent there with Charlotte and Harriett. 

"A month's notice and we can be out," said Charlotte. "And 
we can move in and keep you company before you leave. 
What do you think?"

Emma smiled at her friend gratefully. All the weight of her 
depression seemed to be lifting from her. The dark cloud 
which had beset her these last few weeks was dispelling. 
She loved Charlotte and Josephine so much! They were her 
real friends. She was sad that she'd never given the 
appreciation they'd deserved.

"I would like that. I would like that so very much!"



 XLVIII


Sunbury hadn't always been a naturist resort. For most of 
its history it had been a fishing village, blessed with a 
beautiful bay at the foot of some hills, with a small pier and 
a few dozen cottages. However, exhaustive fishing brought 
a collapse to the village's economy, and its secluded and 
relatively remote location made it an ideal place to satisfy 
the growing market for naturism and other related nature-
loving lifestyles. It was now quite a reasonable sized town, 
dotted with a dozen or more hotels and lodging houses, a 
seasonably busy shopping area and many new entertainment 
industries. The dock that had once been the home for the 
fishing boats was now the permanent home for several 
yachts and motor boats. 

Emma drove into the town, found a small flat to stay in 
overlooking the sea, and after unpacking her car set out 
to look for work in the shops, restaurants, cafes and 
hotels of the town.

She immediately felt better when she arrived. It may have 
been the invigorating sea air, or the beautiful view over the 
bay to the small boats bobbing about on the dark green sea, 
or just that she was so far away from home and reminders 
of Maisie. It may have been the delight of staying in a place 
where almost everyone was naked like her. She enjoyed the 
relatively unfamiliar feel of the warm sea air on her bare 
flesh. She loved the fact that she was one of many people 
who were in the nude, and would almost certainly meet 
others who had similar opinions and views on naturism as 
herself. 

She walked along the pavement, idly pausing to look in the 
windows of the shops looking for a sign that advertised for 
workers. She didn't mind where she worked. She could 
work anywhere: the main thing was to find something 
which would occupy her while she was in Sunbury. A 
strange cheerfulness uplifted her as she walked past men 
and women naked like herself who did not stare at her or 
make low-voiced comments to each other. She smiled to 
herself, the world and her reflection in the shop windows.

It was in a small health food cafe that she eventually found 
work. It was towards the end of the Sunbury high street, 
just opposite a hairdresser and between a hat shop and a 
shop selling paintings by local naturist artists. The owner of 
the cafe was a small quite plump woman with very full 
round breasts and a disarming grin. She was delighted in 
the fact of Emma's long-term commitment to vegetarianism 
and all healthy foods. She quickly judged from Emma's 
smart appearance and her intelligence that she was 
eminently presentable and quite capable in the role of 
waitress. She didn't even have to remind Emma of the 
unfortunate consequences of spilling hot tea on herself 
when there was no apron or other clothes to protect her 
skin. She willingly presented Emma with the small folded 
linen hat which denoted that she was a waitress, and was 
quite happy that she could start straight away. 

"I'm always short of good waitresses," she confessed. "It's 
not the sort of job people ever choose to make a career out 
of."

Emma soon settled into her new role, quite happy in a 
position with no great responsibilities and with absolutely 
no stress. She was busy when the cafe was busy, and able 
to relax with a magazine or newspaper when it was quiet. It 
was a delight to continue working in the nude, and to be 
surrounded by others similarly undressed. She particularly 
enjoyed the fact that from when she woke up to when she 
went to bed, she didn't need to wear a stitch of clothing. 
Her paltry selection of tee-shirts and dresses remained 
packed in her suitcases exactly as they were when she'd left 
her home in the care of Charlotte and Josephine.

As a single girl she quite naturally attracted the attention of 
the single men who were on holiday, but she shrugged off 
their advances with the same nonchalance and lack of 
interest she always had. Her serious demeanour was quite 
enough in most cases to make it fairly clear to them that she 
was a girl who meant pretty much what she said. Even 
those who were more persistent resigned themselves fairly 
soon to brief uncomplicated conversation as she took their 
orders and hurried back from the kitchen with their tea and 
scones.

She also came to realise that most people she saw were 
only in Sunbury for a short while and that every week or 
fortnight the regular visitors were replaced by another set 
who saw her with fresh eyes. Her practised eye soon 
became aware of the attraction that one of the regular 
visitors felt towards her. Beatrice was a slim woman, 
slightly older than herself, naked like everyone else except 
for a pair of steel-rimmed glasses and who always carried a 
paperback novel around with her. Her straight dark brown 
hair fell onto her shoulders and behind the concave lenses 
of her spectacles were a pair of sparkling light green eyes. 
She had a tell-tale awkwardness and a shy laugh which 
betrayed to Emma the nature of Beatrice's feelings towards 
her. It was fairly easy for Emma to convert a conversation 
about the relative merits of Dostoevsky and Turgenev to a 
night out together after she'd finished work in one of 
Sunbury's quieter restaurants.

Emma was pleased that Beatrice had never heard of her 
work with Harlot TV. Indeed, Emma was sure that those 
who did recognise her as a one-time television presenter 
and spokesperson did not believe that she was really the 
same person as the waitress she now was in the Chestnut 
Tree Cafe. Several people had commented on her 
resemblance, but her remark that this was something that 
many others had spotted before was sufficient for them to 
be sure that this was merely superficial and not at all 
substantial. Emma ensured that her conversation with 
Beatrice remained focused on abstract issues or on Beatrice 
herself. She worked as a librarian in a small town. She 
knew nobody who shared her passion for naturism, and so 
it was only on holidays such as this that she felt able to 
present herself to the world in her true colours.

After a couple of glasses of Chardonnay in the Montpellier 
wine bar, Emma easily persuaded Beatrice back to her flat, 
knowing perhaps better than the librarian herself how the 
evening would turn out. Indeed, Beatrice was quite startled 
when Emma's lips pressed to her and her arms clasped the 
girl to her breast. Within minutes, the two girls were laid 
out on the double-bed that dominated the bedroom, their 
faces close together and Beatrice's spectacles discreetly 
placed on the bedside cabinet. It was glorious to once again 
taste a fresh vagina on her tongue, to feel a different set of 
breasts: these ones small and perky, and a slim waist that 
merged into her narrow hips and tight bottom. 

Beatrice was not an expert lover. In fact, Emma was sure 
she had enjoyed very little passion with any women before, 
but she was careful to avoid any questions on her earlier 
love-life. It was better somehow not to know. It was far 
better just to enjoy Beatrice as she was, using her fingers to 
bring the nervous girl to spasms of orgasmic ecstasy, and 
careful also not to frighten her with any of Emma's rougher 
tastes in lovemaking. Beatrice tried her best to respond like 
with like. She greedily gobbled away at Emma's clitoris, her 
long slim tongue probing the folds beneath the dark brown 
hair of her crotch, while Emma below parted her vagina and 
pushed her fingers in and out of its depths. However, she 
resisted the urge to probe a finger into the tight puckered 
anus. That was for another night.

Beatrice discharged herself from her hotel and stayed in 
Emma's flat for the duration of her holiday, declaring so 
many times that this was the best holiday she had ever had. 
Emma could see that Beatrice was falling in love with her, 
so she resisted any opportunity for conversation to take too 
personal a tone. Making love was one thing. Being in love 
was another. She enjoyed Beatrice for her body and her 
company, but she was still in love with Maisie and she was 
just not ready yet to become committed to anyone else. 
Furthermore, she doubted whether Beatrice would enjoy 
the company of her friends. And she was sure she wouldn't 
really approve of the nature of the employment most of 
them were engaged in.

As the days went by, Maisie became a more distant 
memory. Occasionally, she found her thoughts drifting back 
to the girl and their life together. Every time she saw a girl 
in the streets with long curly hair. Every time she reflected 
on her life before she came to Sunbury. Every time when 
the relative inexperience of Beatrice's caresses and gropings 
reawoke a memory of the earlier days of her lovemaking 
with Maisie. Her life was nevertheless mostly quite 
contented. She worked all day in the cafe, she spent 
pleasant evenings at her flat or in the town of Sunbury with 
Beatrice. They would walk together, hand in hand, along 
the sandy beach or the promenade. And on Emma's days 
off, walk off together through the woods and countryside 
around Sunbury, often straying dangerously close towards 
the textile world beyond. Beatrice's warm hand in her hand, 
or her fingers on her crotch, were thoroughly agreeable 
distractions. And it was a pleasure, too, to converse on their 
shared views on the merits of nudity, vegetarianism and, 
quite curiously, a shared passion for twentieth century 
poets like T. S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath. 

They would lie together on the grass, in the hills high above 
the busy town below, idly discoursing until, inevitably, lust 
got the better of one or the other of them and the two 
would once again become a writhing entwined body of one 
flesh, the sun beating on them from above and the grass 
prodding and poking into the crevices of their flesh from 
below. Emma didn't care, unlike Beatrice, if ever anyone 
passed by and saw the girls making love together. These 
moments of outdoor lovemaking were too precious to 
interrupt for the sensibility of people and their children, 
who in any case would be seeing no more flesh than they 
themselves were displaying.

Emma was genuinely sad to see Beatrice leave after her 
holiday romance to return to the Lower Bridlington Public 
Library, although clearly not as sad as Beatrice as she left in 
clothes that had been unworn all the time they'd been 
together. They exchanged addresses and agreed to write, 
but Emma knew there was no future in their love affair. She 
returned to the bed which was once again hers and hers 
alone, a fresh gap in her life as she missed the comfort of 
her lover.

She wasn't to remain alone for long, as now it was clear to 
others in Sunbury where her tastes in love lay she attracted 
the attention of others who shared her predilections. She 
was soon sharing her bed with Petula, a short-haired slim 
girl barely much more than five feet tall who worked in the 
Montpellier wine bar. It may well have been her gamin-like 
appearance which attracted Emma, who still measured her 
lovers against her beloved Maisie.

Petula was a far less serious girl than Beatrice, but not one 
nearly as promiscuous as Emma's friends in the city. Emma 
chose not to disabuse the girl of her own opinion of how 
adventurous her lovemaking was, although she felt freer to 
indulge in her rougher sexual practices, which at first 
alarmed the girl but to which she soon became more 
enthusiastic. Indeed, she came to view the bruises that were 
concomitant with a passionate night spent together with a 
kind of pride. They were evidence to anyone who cared to 
know that she had a truly passionate sexual relationship. 
Although Emma missed the conversations on literature and 
the arts she had so much enjoyed with Beatrice, Petula's 
passion and desire more than compensated. Furthermore, 
she was substantially more mature than Maisie, which at 
first Emma viewed as a vice but soon came to see as a 
virtue. But not so mature that she was not attracted to the 
one night club which Sunbury boasted in the basement of 
the Bel Soleil, the largest hotel in the resort.

Emma had never been much of a clubber. Those times she 
had gone to a night club in the city with Maisie on the girl's 
insistence had not been especially pleasant for her. The 
music was too loud and she found the music more 
headache- rather than ecstasy-inducing. However, the 
Chemise was not as unpleasant to Emma as those she'd 
been to before, mostly for the reasons which earned Petula's 
contempt. The music wasn't quite as ear-shattering and she 
was able to discern tunes she'd enjoyed listening to on the 
radio. It was also pleasant to be in a place where nudity 
was the rule and no one stared at her in that peculiar 
way they did when she attired herself as she felt most 
comfortable back home. She even assented to dancing with 
Petula even though she invariably found most danceable 
those very tunes which Emma liked the least. However, as 
she gyrated woodenly around her much more excitable 
lover, she began to appreciate more clearly the patterns and 
rhythms in the general muddle of sound. She might not 
actually want to buy these records herself, but she could see 
more of their merit in the bright lights and swooping 
shadows of the dance floor.

During such nights, Petula's passion rose to new heights, 
barely able to keep her hands or tongue off Emma's body 
whether they were on the dance floor or sitting on the 
margins of it with glasses of wine or mineral water. And 
when they returned to Emma's flat, the sheets were soon 
damp with the mutual sweat and juice of their shared 
passion, occasionally bringing even Emma to orgasmic 
gasps she'd thought she'd never experience again.

Emma's misery at the loss of Maisie soon vanished 
altogether. She knew that she was cured when one morning 
she awoke early, the rays of the morning sun flooding 
through the window and lighting up Petula's huddled form 
squeezed against her. She gazed at her lover, her face 
wreathed in a smile even in her sleep, and felt her heart lift 
inside her as she reflected that Petula was hers to enjoy and 
remembered the girl's passion of the night before. She felt a 
smile break across her face: quite a new sensation when she 
was not being observed. And feeling the smile, she felt as if 
a great weight had suddenly been dispelled. There wasn't a 
tinge of regret in her that Petula wasn't Maisie. She 
genuinely loved the girl for what she was, and not what she 
reminded her of.

She leaned over and eased her hand down between Petula's 
thighs to the girl's vagina. So moist and so warm! She ran 
her hands through the curled hair which was packed so 
tightly into a triangle. And then kissed Petula tenderly on 
the forehead. Petula stirred, looked up at her lover and her 
smile broadened to reveal her slightly crooked teeth 
between her full lips. She sighed long and low, as the two 
girls followed the rhythm and pattern of their sensual 
passion and were soon wrapped together, crotch pressed 
against crotch, face firmly against face, arms around each 
other, Petula's hands threaded through Emma's hair and 
Emma's hands cupped against the nape of Petula's neck. 

Emma knew that the passion that accompanied the 
subsequent lovemaking was due as much to her relief that 
she no longer mourned her separation from Maisie as for 
her feelings for Petula. She also knew that Petula knew 
nothing of her thoughts. One thing she had been careful to 
avoid discussing with her was her life before Sunbury. She 
also knew that Petula recognised a new kind of reciprocity 
in Emma's feelings for her, the previous lack of which had 
caused her so much unspoken grief, and now with it there 
brought her to orgasm after orgasm that melted her body 
into Emma's own, shook through her limbs like spasms of 
electricity and triggered emissions of fluid from between 
her legs that both frightened and delighted her. 

Emma was cured. She could now face the world with fresh 
confidence. Her love for Maisie was now gone like an 
illness and she was more than ready for a fresh infestation.



 XLIX


Maisie found living with Tanya very different to living with 
Emma. For a start, Tanya was a very different lover. She 
made love with men at least as often as she did with 
women. She was also rather less concerned about Maisie's 
education and career prospects. Maisie now had to find her 
own way to school and to the studios of Harlot TV. 
Perhaps, Maisie thought, it was just an inevitable part of 
growing up and looking after herself. And then there was 
the fact that Maisie had nothing like the primacy in Tanya's 
affections as she'd enjoyed with Emma. There were the two 
men who also shared Tanya's flat and on occasion her bed. 
Karl and Anthony were nice men and both gave her the 
kindness that Tanya was so reluctant to give. Maisie hadn't 
realised at first that they would be permanent fixtures and 
at first she'd resented their presence, particularly after she 
found out that Tanya had expressly forbidden the men to 
touch her. 

Maisie had no objection to watching men fuck each other. 
After all, it was a common feature on sex television, 
although she found her exclusion from the physical act 
slightly frustrating. But even she could see that neither Karl 
nor Anthony really enjoyed it that much. It was only 
because Tanya required it of them that their lips and 
tongues joined together and their pricks pushed deep inside 
the other's arse. And Tanya was pitiless in her demands of 
them: even getting them to piss on each other. And should 
one of them look at Maisie, as she sat arm-in-arm with 
Tanya, it was a cue for their mistress to slap them or to 
shout scorn at them. But Maisie could see the men were 
besotted with her. They would do anything for her pleasure, 
and her words of cruelty and unkindness did nothing to 
lessen their yearning for her. And yet she gave them so little 
for their pains. Just as she was giving less and less of her 
bodily passion to Maisie.

However, every night when Tanya was there, Maisie was 
expected to share her bed. Her menstrual cycle was no 
excuse. It might be that all that was required of her was to 
lick out Tanya's vagina or to be the recipient of the 
spanking on her bare behind that Tanya sometimes believed 
Maisie was deserving of, although her misdemeanours were 
invariably extremely minor. In some strange way, Tanya 
seemed to enjoy causing Maisie to cry at the unfairness of it 
all and to watch her discomfort when her protestations of 
love were returned only with sternness and unsympathetic 
sneers. But at the same time, Tanya was very demanding, 
wanting to know exactly what Maisie had been doing and 
with whom. The sex which she performed as part of her job 
was alternately praised and used as an excuse for 
punishment: the very inconsistency of Tanya's response 
both puzzling and upsetting her.

And then there were the men that Tanya brought back with 
her in the evening. Sometimes women, but usually men. 
They were not the most attractive men that Maisie had ever 
met, and she was confused as to why a woman as beautiful 
as Tanya, with the ability and skill to fuck with 
whomsoever she liked, would choose to have sex with 
middle-aged, fat, sometimes even ugly men. Some were 
older than Tanya's own father. They were often thoroughly 
incompetent in their lovemaking, frequently releasing their 
semen far too soon, and thrusting in and out of Tanya's 
vagina or arse with a monotonous predictability.

And it wasn't only Tanya they fucked. However much 
Maisie might wish otherwise, she would always be brought 
into the lovemaking, often on Tanya's express instructions. 
"Open your legs, Maisie sweetest!" Tanya would say with a 
tone of love and affection so often lacking when there were 
no guests. "Open your cheeks, so we can get inside your 
arse!" Tanya would whisper with a pleasant kiss on Maisie's 
lips. "Put the whole of the cock in your mouth, Maisie 
darling! Not just the tip!"

Maisie was so won over by Tanya's show of passion and 
love on these occasions that she sometimes forgot that the 
one who would be doing the thrusting and groping and 
fucking and buggering, and covering her bare breasts with 
kisses and sometimes nibbling her toes, was not Tanya, 
whom she loved, but a man she'd never met before, was 
rarely likely to see again, and was invariably unattractive 
and often very smelly. She got used to the rough feel of 
chin stubble on the vagina that Tanya insisted she shave, to 
make her look even younger. She was accustomed to the 
thrust of thick and short, long and thin, fat and stubby, 
penises thrusting into her, admittedly stiff, but not 
necessarily satisfying. Nowhere near as expert as the pricks 
whose taste she enjoyed in her professional capacity. 

And the men treated her like a child. Not one of them 
treated her like a grown girl, with a career, deserving 
respect. She was always 'dearie', 'sweetie', 'little girl', and 
she began realising that it was her real, and her even 
younger apparent, youth that they were keen on. The 
thought of fucking a child was what they all enjoyed in her, 
as they slobbered over her, forced their rough hairy hands 
into her shaven crotch, prised open her anus with their 
nicotine-stained fingers. And gradually, she came to realise 
that these men, so pathetic and unappealing in bed, were 
senior people in the world of television and the media. 
Tanya was exchanging sexual favours for the more material 
favours they could provide for her. And not all of them 
were producers, executives, directors or whatever in the 
world of sex television. Some were prominent in the world 
of more mainstream entertainment, and at least one was 
actually a politician. Or at least he looked very much like a 
junior politician Maisie saw interviewed on mainstream 
television one day. And those in the mainstream media were 
often the ones most perverse in bed: the ones who liked 
pissing on Maisie or masturbating while Tanya lay her on 
her lap and spanked her on her reddening cheeks.

Maisie only gradually became aware that it was the promise 
of sex with her at least as much as with Tanya herself that 
had attracted the men to Tanya's bed. In some cases, it was 
sex with her alone that was the attraction. One man with a 
face and body like some disgusting turtle spent the whole 
evening wanking while groping around on her bare body, 
and then finally spurting his wad of semen on her face and 
licking it off with his big slobbery tongue. Another was only 
interested in her arse and pushed his prick in deep long 
before Maisie was in any sense prepared for it, and grunted 
with extra pleasure as Maisie cried from the pain of it all.

Maisie had no way of knowing how well rewarded Tanya 
was for the favours she, and most particularly Maisie, were 
giving so freely. She knew she didn't really enjoy it, and she 
particularly didn't like it when one man actually shat right 
on her face. Fuck! It was disgusting! But she could see that 
Tanya was profiting from it. Her career was in a hyperbolic 
trajectory, soon leaving behind the world of sex 
entertainment for the more lucrative rewards of fame and 
fortune of the mainstream world. She even recorded a 
record which sold very well despite the rather poor quality 
of its musical content. She was featured in mainstream 
magazines and interviewed in rather fawning terms in 
glossy celebrity papers. All the while, her designer clothes 
became steadily more elegant, the restaurants she ate in 
became increasingly exclusive, and she was in the process 
of buying a very opulent apartment in a very expensive 
district of the city. And all the while, Maisie felt no better 
off than before. The wealth that she had was only the 
wealth that she'd earned, and much of that went to Tanya to 
help pay her keep. In many ways, her life was actually more 
deprived than before. Tanya no longer took Maisie out with 
her to the night-clubs and restaurants they used to frequent. 
And her life became hemmed in by work, school and the 
sexual demands of Tanya and her male lovers.

Maisie looked at Karl and Anthony with fresh sympathy. 
Never praised, never given an encouraging word, frequently 
humiliated. Sometimes, Karl or Anthony would be tied by a 
chain to the end of the bed while the other lover was being 
buggered by Tanya. On one occasion, Maisie herself was 
instructed to bugger the two men, one after the other, while 
they were biting and sucking at each other's prick under 
Tanya's stern watchful eye, always ready to give fresh 
instruction to deepen their humiliation. On occasions such 
as this, Maisie wondered what pleasure it was giving to 
Tanya. She wasn't showing any sexual satisfaction as 
Maisie's long black dildo thrust in and out of Karl's arse, his 
mouth around the stiffening mass of Anthony's prick. Even 
when both Anthony's prick and her dildo crammed into 
Karl's complaining anus, she showed only a strange kind of 
grim satisfaction. And on those moments, Maisie felt she 
was just like the two men: simply sex toys for Tanya's 
perverse pleasures.

She didn't see her friends very often. In fact, although 
Tanya didn't exactly forbid her from doing so, she made 
plain that she preferred Maisie stay at home in the evenings 
so that she was available for whatever visitor she had 
planned for that night. So it was by chance that Maisie met 
Susan and Rosemary in the city centre one day while she 
was window-shopping in the high street. Susan was 
wearing a long tee-shirt which came to just below her hips, 
while Rosemary wore a plain grey skirt and a specially 
designed blouse that held her breasts up in a way which 
both contained and displayed them. 

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Maisie had to ask 
how Emma was. "Oh! She's fine, I think," replied Susan. 
"Well, I haven't seen her for a long time. Not since 
Charlotte's wedding, but I spoke to Charlotte the other day. 
She and Josephine and, of course, darling baby Thomas are 
now living in Emma's house. Where you used to live before 
you started living with Tanya. We went to the house and 
chatted about things. Babies mostly. Emma's gone off to a 
naturist resort to do whatever naturists do. Meditate or 
whatever. Sunborough, I think it's called. She lost her job at 
the television station you know."

"I know," admitted Maisie sadly, feeling ever so much the 
guilty party. "But Emma's alright? I heard she was 
dreadfully depressed."

"She was," Susan agreed, "but I think she's got over it now. 
But anyway, how're you? How is it living in the centre of 
the city?"

"It's very nice," said Maisie, but not with a lot of 
enthusiasm.

"Hmm!" said Susan. "Come on. Let's have a coffee and a 
chat. I insist."

"I've got to get back," said Maisie unconvincingly.

"Nonsense, come along. My treat."

Susan and Rosemary took Maisie to a small coffee shop, 
and the three sat down around two cafe lattes and a 
cappuccino. As they sat down, Susan took Maisie's hand in 
her own, and smiled at the girl sympathetically.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look quite sad? Is life 
with Tanya all that you thought it would be?"

"It's not as good as it was."

"Really. Tell me. What's the reason for that?"

For the first time since she'd left Emma, Maisie found 
someone she could talk to and the relief of it was like the 
lifting of a colossal weight. She told Susan and Rosemary 
about how she no longer went out with Tanya to the night 
clubs. How she now had to pay for her keep. How she had 
sex with all the horrible men and women that Tanya 
brought back. How she felt she was being treated as badly 
as Anthony and Karl. How she was feeling quite sad that 
she'd left Emma.

"And do you want to go back to Emma?" asked Rosemary, 
who didn't really know either of the girls that well. They'd 
met briefly at the wedding and that was all. She thought 
though that Maisie was awfully young to be a lover of 
someone like Emma, but she'd got used to quite a few 
different lifestyles and relationships since her own had 
began with Susan.

"I don't think it's right that I would," Maisie sniffed. "Not 
after I hurt her so much. I think I should stay with Tanya."

"Are you sure, Maisie sweetest?" worried Susan. "She 
doesn't sound like she's looking after you at all well. I know 
some people like the kind of treatment you're getting, and I 
guess those two men, Anthony and Karl, probably do. You 
often meet people like that in my industry. But you're not 
like that are you?"

"Like what?" wondered Maisie. Rosemary also frowned 
quizzically.

"Well ? never mind ?" Susan replied blushing slightly. 
"Perhaps ? I don't know ? I mean, Emma was sometimes 
quite rough ?" She could feel her words tangling as she 
tried to express delicately what she meant. "Well, whatever. 
If it gets too much for you, and it sounds like it might, just 
come and stay in my flat. You can sleep in Rosemary's bed. 
After all, you're hardly ever in it, are you Rosemary 
darling?"

Now it was Rosemary's turn to blush, which she did 
startlingly readily, a hot reddening spreading over her 
cheeks and her breasts. "Hardly ever," she whispered in 
embarrassed, but rather pleased, agreement.

Maisie felt curiously lifted after her chat with the two 
lovers. The pleasure of finding another option in her life 
gave her a renewed sense of freedom which the last few 
months had been gradually seeping away from her. Tanya 
had better look out, she thought. 

There was no way she could speak to Tanya about her 
discomfort about living together. She never really asked 
Maisie how she felt and, indeed, from her there mostly 
only came demands which she made with no suggestion that 
there was ever any other alternative. There were never 
occasions when she chatted to Maisie about what she wanted. 
Even when they were together, making love with no one 
there, it was always a question of what Tanya wanted and 
what Maisie could give her. Maisie realised that in some 
strange way she was quite afraid of Tanya. And she was 
still very much attracted to her. Tanya was never less 
than beautiful, and she comported herself in such a way 
that it accentuated the power of her physical charms.

There was certainly no let up in Tanya's demands. That 
evening was spent in a long gruelling session with Anthony 
and Karl, at one time with both men's penises in her mouth. 
Then guiding Karl's penis into Anthony's arse while Tanya 
buggered Karl from behind, biting him quite ferociously on 
his neck, while her buttocks hammered back and forth into 
his rear. And the following night, Maisie was tied to the bed 
by silk cords tied to her wrists, her legs also pulled apart by 
silk cords around her ankles, while a large hairy man who 
produced films for a large educational film company, 
pushed his large hairy prick in and out of her arse. All the 
while, Tanya was pinching her nipples so that she called out 
in pain, and nibbled the producer's own nipples hidden 
under a mass of wiry hair. 

And then there was the financier who pissed on Maisie 
while she sat in the bath with her hands tied behind her back 
and Tanya pushing a not especially large dildo up the arse 
that must have been somewhere between his flabby 
buttocks. And the woman, who must have been in at least 
her fifties, who didn't take her glasses off while Maisie and 
Tanya nibbled around the foul-tasting thin hair of her 
vagina. And the evening where Maisie's foot was tied by a 
short lead to a chair, while Tanya, Anthony and Karl 
pleasured a somewhat gross man with an almost totally bald 
head and a stomach which had to be physically lifted for his 
penis to be revealed.

Finally, enough was enough. It might have been because 
she was especially fed up while washing traces of shit and 
piss out of her hair after a night with a thin man with a long 
thin prick that nevertheless never seemed to get a hard-on. 
It might have been as a result of the rather sour comments 
Tanya made while Maisie was listening to one of her 
records. It might have been because she'd had a particularly 
bad day at work, where, for some reason, there was just no 
passion to her lovemaking. Maisie was just not finding on-
screen fellatio agreeable, and was not sorry when the 
attentive producer substituted her lovemaking with one of 
her guests by one of her more junior co-presenters.

As soon as Tanya, Anthony and Karl were out of the house, 
and before the maid came round to tidy up, Maisie 
hurriedly packed her possessions into her suitcases and 
called a taxi. She hesitated over leaving a note for Tanya. In 
fact she composed her leaving note for several hours in her 
head, but then, with a wicked smile, she reasoned that no 
explanation at all was much more likely to upset Tanya than 
any note. Whatever she wrote would probably sound 
peevish and a bit weak. Saying nothing at all would betray 
no weakness at all. As Maisie got into the taxi and was 
driven off to Susan's flat, having checked first that Susan 
would be there to meet her when she arrived, she looked 
back at where she'd lived all these past few months and was 
slightly ashamed to recognise that her feelings towards 
Tanya now resembled hatred rather than love.

And soon she was with friends again. Both Susan and 
Rosemary were there to welcome her, to carry her bags 
into the flat, to show her up to Rosemary's room which had 
been tidied up for, and to shower her with tea and cookies. 
Despite her feelings of guilt of leaving Tanya unannounced 
in this way, she felt a degree of elation at being free from 
her that was almost frightening.

Susan and Rosemary took Maisie out for a night out in the 
city, which included a night club playing just the sounds 
that she was enjoying so much these days: pumping, 
jumping, slamming and kicking. Susan and she oscillated 
together under the bright lights, neither wearing very much, 
in a mass of sweaty shiny bodies under the strobing lights, 
able only to mouth to each other whatever they wanted to 
say. And in Maisie's case, it was mostly: "I'm happy! I'm so 
happy!"

Rosemary was less happy. She'd never really enjoyed noisy, 
brash places like this, and she didn't enjoy the drugs and 
drink very much either. But she was pleased to see Susan's 
young friend free from the tyranny of her life with Tanya, 
and quite enthusiastic about sharing the flat with another 
person.

And not just the flat, as Rosemary discovered when they 
got back, Maisie and Susan wrapping their naked bodies 
around each other. At first Rosemary was a little put out as 
Maisie's tongue sought out Susan's, and the two clung to 
each other, flat breasts squeezed so close together, Maisie's 
long curls obscuring the two girls' faces, and Susan's long 
neck curving swan-like to the base of her short, boyish hair. 
Even as Maisie's hands probed for Susan's shaven vagina, 
and a finger so easily slipped through the moistness of its 
entrance, Susan was always mindful of her lover, 
Rosemary.

She eased Maisie off her, despite the girl's protests, and 
smiled to Rosemary. "Come on, Rosie! Take off your 
clothes and join us!"

Rosemary nodded, and Maisie watched with no little 
interest as she undid the buttons of her blouse and 
unstrapped her bra. Her enormous bosom fell out from their 
confines, many times larger than Maisie's and Susan's 
breasts put together. So large, and round, and weighty, and 
pink, if a little freckled towards the top. And the nipples. 
Larger than many women's entire breast. Crenulated, 
detailed, and, now, of course, fully erect, the nipple clearly 
indented towards a crater towards the centre, around which 
were the aureole redness of the rest of its glory. So 
different from the small, permanently hard nipples of the 
girls who'd had their breasts surgically enhanced. And a 
warm, bouncy, fleshy mass. Not hard and rigid like a 
football, but soft and welcoming. As Rosemary shuffled 
across the bed on her knees, Maisie immediately leapt onto 
her breasts, anxious to have as close a feel as she could.

They felt as homely as they looked. Underneath they 
weighed so much, but they rested easily on her palms, while 
she lifted the mass of it up, so that her tongue and teeth 
could better explore all that it had to offer. What bliss! 
What joy! Her mouth was almost filled by the nipple which 
had some of the hardness of a small erect penis, but tasted 
much better, much more delectable, with none of that 
strange smell that pricks sometimes gave off. And the 
texture of such a large nipple on her tongue was another 
sensation altogether. The details of the bumps and 
crenulations of the nipple was a texture far superior than 
that even Emma's apple-like breasts or Susan's perky 
nipples had to offer. 

As she engulfed herself in Rosemary's bosom, she could feel 
Susan's fingers probing her crotch. One, then two fingers 
sliding easily in her shaven vagina, and, for extra pleasure, a 
thumb easing into her anus. At the same time, Susan was 
kissing Rosemary full on the mouth, while her lover gasped 
and groaned from the delight of familiar pleasure. And 
soon, the three were rolling around on the bed, tongues in 
each others' crotches, fingers everywhere, their flesh as 
shiny and sweaty from passion as they had been in the night 
club from the exertions of dancing.

Maisie looked up at the red hairs of Rosemary's vagina 
which both she and Susan were exploring and exciting with 
their tongues, and smiled as she saw that familiar tremor of 
excitement erupt from inside Rosemary, her vaginal juices 
squirting out without restraint, to be eagerly lapped by her 
two small-breasted lovers. Then she smiled at Susan, whose 
face smiled at her, her ivory skin in the broad grin that so 
much suited her. She leaned over and kissed Susan 
passionately on the lips. She was so happy now. And all this 
time, she'd stayed with Tanya! How could she have ever 
been so stupid? She grabbed Susan tightly, almost roughly, 
and her passion and gratitude erupted in her vaginal 
orgasms which seemed to melt the very essence of her 
being.



 L


Dalitha and Salim were wrapped together in Salim's bed: 
Dalitha's dark, small body entangled in Salim's chocolate, 
long lithe frame, legs intertwined, breast on breast, sweat 
dripping onto sweat. Dalitha was again exhausted but still 
insatiable: a young appetite for sex that Salim found very 
difficult to keep up with. She could still taste the slightly 
sour juice of her niece's vaginal juices on her tongue and 
enjoyed Dalitha's fingers probing around her still sore 
crotch, still moist but covered with the crumbs of the drying 
embers of earlier orgasms. She held Dalitha's head by her 
arms and pressed the girl's face close to hers, the warm 
breath from the younger girl's mouth blowing pleasantly on 
her cheeks. 

"Do you love me?" Salim asked pleadingly, hoping for an 
unambiguous declaration of passion, but as always 
disappointed by the girl's uncertain reply.

"I love making love with you," Dalitha said with the 
seriousness of a young girl, "but I don't know if it's love I 
feel."

As always, Salim was disheartened. She loved Dalitha, just 
as she loved Amna, but somehow it seemed that whatever it 
was that made someone love someone else, she didn't have 
enough of it. And it wasn't as if the sex wasn't good. Well, 
it was certainly good for her. She leaned back to stare at 
the light shade on the ceiling while Dalitha rolled on top of 
her, two fingers still stroking the dark brown hairs of 
Salim's crotch. 

"I do love you, Auntie," Dalitha said, not wishing to upset 
her lover, "but it's not like what I think love should be. It's 
not like in the films. It's a different kind of love. A more 
sister-like love."

And talking about her sister, the door eased open and 
Amna entered the bedroom. It was early morning and the 
girl had just returned from an exhausting evening out with 
Fluff in a night club, buoyed up by narcotics, music and 
company. She was still buzzing with energy, desperate for 
more conversation, as she burst into the bedroom, naked as 
always, her breasts still unnaturally perky and a shadow 
spreading over a crotch that hadn't needed shaving for 
several days.

"Why hello, Amna," greeted Salim as she saw her older 
niece hovering by the door. "How was your night?"

"Fine! Fine!" said Amna dismissively. "I didn't know 
Dalitha was here." In fact, Amna was quite disappointed. 
After Fluff had left with two porn-stars of her acquaintance, 
neither of which was to Amna's taste, and this was based 
on experience on the studio mattress, she was actually 
looking forward to sinking into the arms of her aunt. And 
here was her pesky sister.

"She's been here all night," said Salim. "We've been 
watching videos, haven't we?" They weren't videos much to 
Salim's own taste: altogether too violent and relied too 
heavily on special effects, but Dalitha enjoyed them and that 
was the main thing.

"And not just watching videos," commented Amna bitterly.

"Come now, Amna. You've got to think about your sister. 
Look! Why not just lie down next to us. That should be 
alright."

Amna sighed. She guessed that would have to do. She sat 
down on the other side of Salim from Dalitha, swung her 
legs around, and lay next to her. Salim was in sudden and 
unexpected heaven. Here on either side of her were the two 
girls she loved most in the world, an arm around Amna, who 
pressed her nicotine-smelling face onto Salim's shoulder, 
and an arm around Dalitha, whose hand was gently stroking 
Salim's thigh and smiling into her bosom. Salim grinned 
broadly, moving her head languidly from side-to-side as she 
looked at one niece and then the other. The feel of warm, 
dark flesh filled her heart with pleasure and a strange 
elation.

She felt herself falling to blissful sleep, Dalitha's small hand 
still stroking her thigh, when she felt somewhat stronger 
fingers beginning to probe inside her. Ah! That must be 
Amna, smiled Salim half-opening her eyes to see her niece 
bent over her. Salim hooked Amna closer to her, so that her 
fingers dangling over Amna's breast could tweak on her 
beloved's nipples, which she was pleased to find were hard, 
stiff and excited. This itself aroused passion in Salim, who 
bent her mouth over to Amna's mouth, greedily taking her 
tongue and lips into hers. All the while, she could feel 
Dalitha's weaker fingers also exploring her, pinching her 
clitoris between forefinger and thumb, and her mouth and 
tongue trailing over her breast.

And then the three of them gradually became one, with 
Salim the willing centre of it all, her mouth and lips greedily 
giving, and her flesh happily receiving, two sets of hands 
exploring her crotch and breasts, as she shared as best she 
could her attentions between two girls. Her tongue 
explored the nerves behind Dalitha's knee, her fingers the 
space between the arse and vagina, while around her, her 
breasts were licked and sucked, her vagina probed and 
moistened, often not sure whose tongue or whose fingers 
were doing what to her, and sometimes, her face deep in 
dark skin, able only indistinctly to know whose flesh she 
too was exploring so intimately. The lovemaking was 
languorous, relaxed and without urgency, lacking direction 
or purpose, just a pleasant end to the evening.

At least, that's how Salim thought it would be. But then she 
became aware of the liquid sloshing sound of two mouths 
battling together, while two hands were still exploring her 
vagina, and her own tongue was threading through the 
dense black hairs of Dalitha's vagina. At first, Salim gave no 
thought to it. After all, she and Fatima had frequently made 
love with Amna, and she'd often heard that sound, and its 
occasional strangled moans, as tongue grappled with 
tongue. But then the enormity of it suddenly struck her, and 
she opened her eyes wide open and gazed at the two dark 
figures arched above her. It was true. Amna and Dalitha 
were kissing each other, their arms around each other and 
wrapped in each other's long black hair.

Salim was about to protest, but she found herself quite 
excited by it, despite herself, and applied her tongue to 
Dalitha's vagina with renewed vigour, grabbing her own 
crotch with her fingers, urgently masturbating herself as she 
crouched over, her arse up in the air. And indeed the 
excitement continued to rise, as she and Amna both shared 
lapping away at Dalitha's crotch while the young girl 
groaned and swayed with rhythms of ecstasy. Amna smiled 
eagerly at Salim, pausing occasionally to press her tongue 
and lips into her aunt's mouth. And the lovemaking 
continued, the three bodies become increasingly 
indistinguishable from each other. Sometimes two mouths 
at Dalitha's crotch and then, all change, as Dalitha and 
Salim busied themselves on Amna's stubbly vulva. Despite 
herself, Salim climaxed without restraint, and then, before 
her trembling body could recover, another spasm of passion 
swept through her. And then another. And at various times 
she could sense similar eruptions of orgasm rising within 
one or other of her two nieces.

And then finally, the three were sated, sweat and saliva and 
vaginal juice shared and sticking to each other as they 
collapsed on top of each other: too hot and too exhausted 
to do anything than gasp and pant as they recovered from 
their exertions. And it was at this stage, and perhaps 
belatedly, that guilt set in, as Salim regarded her two nieces 
wrapped together and exchanging the odd kiss, their legs 
tangled with her own and their breasts against each other, 
Amna's rather larger ones against Dalitha's budding but stiff 
nipples. Surely, this was more than a step too far, mused 
Salim, sorrowful that she'd not shown more moral fibre in 
separating the two sisters when the passion of their 
lovemaking had exceeded their prudence, and feeling very 
remorseful that it was she who had been the catalyst for this 
incest.

And then, guilt gave way to jealousy as she observed the 
depth of the two sisters' feelings for each other. So 
unnatural but not unexpected, as the two girls hands and 
lips continued their exploration of each other, no longer 
concerned about Salim's presence.

"Oh! Amna! I love you!" gasped Dalitha, uttering without 
prompting the words Salim had so eagerly wanted to hear the 
girl say about herself. Salim blushed from her forehead to 
her nipples, but there was nothing now that she could do. 
The deed was done, and she was at least as reprehensible 
as anyone else.

"Dalitha! You can't say that!" said Amna, but without 
conviction. "It's Auntie Salim you love. And I love Fluff. 
And anyway you're my sister. What would our parents 
say?"

Dalitha wept slightly, and sat up on the bed. She turned to 
Salim, who was lying down with her head on the pillow, 
and kissed her aunt tenderly on the lips. "Yes, I do love 
Auntie Salim. But with you, I don't know, it's different." 
She gasped as a spasm of lust ran through her torso and 
wobbled her young buttocks. She pushed her lips onto 
Amna's artificially enhanced bosom, and sucked at one 
nipple and then the other with a hunger that frightened 
Amna as much as it startled Salim. "I do love you, Amna! 
And I don't care what anyone thinks. I think I must have 
always loved you. And admit it, Amna. You must always 
have loved me, or this wouldn't have happened."

"I almost wish it hadn't," sighed Amna, echoing Salim's 
thoughts, but nonetheless making no moves to dissuade her 
sister from pursuing her attentions. "From now on, it's 
going to be very different between us."

As indeed it was. Salim again began to feel marginalised in 
the merry-go-round of lovemaking that went on under her 
roof. Amna made love with Dalitha. Fluff made love with 
Amna. Sometimes, Fatima made love with Amna too, but 
never with Fluff. And Salim sometimes made love with 
Amna and Dalitha, but more often only with Dalitha and 
that only when Amna wasn't around. And sometimes she 
made love with Fatima. And sometimes with both Amna 
and Salim. 

As she considered all these permutations, Salim sometimes 
felt giddy and not a little disturbed. How had it happened 
that she, a devout Muslim who would never dream of 
displaying her hair in public, and who regularly attended the 
mosque every Friday. And who had even been on a haj to 
the Holy City when she was younger. How could she have 
become not so much the ringmaster of all these sexual 
variations, with their even larger spirals of sexual liaison 
beyond her flat, but in a sense its hostess and facilitator?

Her own position became relatively weak. She no longer had 
any claim to moral authority, and would find herself 
watching on as Amna and Dalitha cuddled and caressed each 
other in front of the television: Amna exploring in minutest 
detail the growing physical delights of her sister's breasts 
and vagina, even allowing a finger to probe into the dark 
interior of her very tight anus. And Dalitha forever 
fascinated by the artificially enhanced assets of her older 
sister, never tiring of exploring with her fingers and 
tongue what her eyes had so lovingly cherished.

It became inevitable that the sexual permutations should 
increase, now that the last taboo had been breached. Fluff 
was the first to take advantage of Dalitha's new-found 
availability, which neither Amna nor Salim could now 
prohibit. How could they say that sex with Fluff was in any 
way worse than sex with her sister and aunt? And Fluff 
was, in any case, surprisingly tender and sympathetic with 
the young girl, revealing depths of considerateness that 
very nearly encouraged Salim to revise her opinion of the 
woman she still viewed as the corrupter of her niece's 
morals and, worse, her chief rival in love.

Dalitha was particularly fascinated by Fluff's tattoos of 
pricks on her face, arms and chest, her tongue lingering 
long on the over-exaggerated, garishly coloured contours 
of the spurting penises, especially their tips where wild 
gushes of semen were painted in orgasm. Fluff tenderly 
kissed and licked Dalitha's bosom and clitoris, her white 
freckled tattooed body entangled in Dalitha's slim dark 
body. And then with a gesture she invited Amna over to 
join in as Dalitha gradually became more relaxed and more 
excited. Salim watched as the two sisters and Fluff became 
a triangle of sexual passion, from which, due to her dislike 
for Fluff, she felt totally excluded.

Fatima was more circumspect, and it was only after several 
weeks that Salim discovered that she too had found 
pleasure in her niece's body. Fatima continued to represent 
Amna's assets in the film industry, and Salim was frightened 
that she might start viewing Dalitha in the same way: a 
proposal Salim would never condone. 

However, she came home one day from work to find Fatima's 
clothes laid out neatly in the wardrobe, and to hear the 
sounds of lovemaking emanating from Amna's bedroom, Salim 
dashed upstairs to find Fatima and Dalitha rolling around 
on the bed with no sign of Amna. She later found out that 
it was through Amna that Dalitha had met her niece's agent, 
and that the lovemaking that Fatima was now enjoying with 
Dalitha was not at all for the first time.

Salim hovered by the door as she watched Dalitha licking 
Fatima's vagina, her slim knees parted on either side, still 
wearing stilettos and gasping with pleasure. Fatima spotted 
her and with a smile indicated that Salim should join them. 
At first, Salim was unsure. Shouldn't she feel angry that her 
best friend was making love to her niece in this way? But, 
seeing no better solution, she eased off her clothes, and 
joined the two girls on the bed, her tongue actively probing 
Fatima's mouth and lips, and her fingers with Fatima's 
within the tight folds of Dalitha's vulva.

For Dalitha, this new active sex life of hers was a great 
revelation. She'd got used to Salim's own style of 
lovemaking, not to mention the scents of her body, the feel 
of her flesh and the taste of her vagina. Now, she was 
enjoying quite different sensations from different bodies 
and relishing them all. Her hunger for variety and change 
was growing, at the same time as she became aware of 
limits she wasn't at all sure she wanted to traverse. For 
instance, much as she enjoyed the sight and taste of Fluff's 
tattooed penises, she wasn't at all convinced that her tender 
young vagina was ready for that sort of penetration. 
Indeed, even the penetration of fingers, whether at her front 
or her rear, already stretched her orifices to a point of pain 
she was reluctant to take further. And, anyway, penises 
belonged to men, and she wasn't sure she wanted to get to know 
one of those in that sort of way.

Furthermore, she was unsure that she was so happy that all 
her lovers were older than her: and in Salim's case a lot 
older than her. Wouldn't it be better to make love with 
someone more her age? Someone who knew what it was 
like to be a teenager and who shared her adolescent 
interests and tastes. Much as she enjoyed making love to 
Salim and Amna, there was a distinct sense that she was 
very much the junior partner.

Then one evening, when visiting her aunt, she found three 
visitors being entertained by Amna and Salim she'd not met 
before. One was a slim boyish oriental girl, who was 
wearing an open waistcoat and nothing else, revealing a 
chest which was remarkably flat for a fully grown woman. 
And what a contrast it was with Susan's companion, who 
was topless, wearing only jeans, who had the most 
enormous pair of bosoms Dalitha had ever seen. She was 
sure she'd seen pictures of breasts like these, but in the flesh 
they were truly awesome. Each one was significantly larger 
than her own head, with nipples that themselves were larger 
than the span of her hand.

And with Susan and Rosemary, and totally naked, was a 
girl about the same age as her, with long curls of hair 
spread over her slim bare shoulders and cascading down 
between the sharp angles of her shoulder blades. She turned 
to smile at Dalitha, pleased to see someone her own age. 
Dalitha smiled back.

After being introduced to Maisie, Dalitha and she sat 
together, both unclothed and chatted about school, 
programmes they watched on television and records they'd 
bought, finding great areas of mutual interest, but not 
daring to broach the subject of how come they knew the 
people they knew, and how much their lifestyles resembled 
each other. Maisie had become more self-confident after 
leaving Tanya, but she still felt a vague feeling of 
discomfort in the subject of sex since her ordeals, mostly 
enjoying only the attention of Susan and Rosemary when 
not making love in a professional capacity.

However, when she placed a hand on Dalitha's knee and 
the young black girl made no attempt to move it off, and 
indeed smiled at Maisie quite encouragingly, she knew how 
the evening would progress. Indeed, as the others fussed 
over preparing dinner and opening bottles of wine, the two 
girls began tentatively exploring each other. Maisie's mouth 
descended on Dalitha's and her arm embraced Dalitha's 
waist. Dalitha responded with an involuntary gasp of 
pleasure as she pushed her tongue into Maisie's mouth and 
the two started kissing each other passionately, their young 
warm bodies reflecting heat off each other.

Salim watched indulgently, while standing next to Susan by 
the door to the kitchen, an empty wine glass in one hand 
and a dish cloth in the other. She sighed as she saw Dalitha 
find yet another lover other than herself with whom to 
share her body. Susan noticed her sigh and tenderly 
stroked Salim's long naked back.

"Maisie's been quite lonely for a while," Susan remarked to 
Salim. "Don't you think it's good that she's found someone 
her own age to keep her company?"

"I suppose so," agreed Salim, who couldn't help the pangs 
of jealousy rise within her. Why is it she could never have 
an exclusive lover? Why did she have to share her love?

"Salim, don't be sad," whispered Susan, sensing the  
distress in her friend. She took the dish cloth and wine glass 
from Salim's hand, and placed it on the table. She put her 
arms around Salim, ignoring the stares from Amna and 
Rosemary who were, for different reasons, unhappy with 
Susan spending too much time with Salim. Susan kissed 
Salim tenderly on the lips, and then after a brief test of 
Salim's crotch to see how moist she was, discreetly guided 
her to the bedroom where she used her skill and artistry to 
distract Salim's thoughts from Dalitha. 

As the two lay together after only a few minutes of rather 
mad, uncoordinated lovemaking, Susan brushed away the 
tears that Salim had allowed to burst forth now that her 
emotional barriers were lowered. "I can see that you're 
jealous of Dalitha, just as you were jealous of Amna. But 
surely you can see that it's better for her to be with 
someone like Maisie? You are much older than her. And 
you are her aunt."

Salim nodded sadly and sniffed selfpityingly. "Why is it I 
can never find a relationship that is mine and mine alone?"

Susan kissed her tenderly on the eyebrows, the eyelids, the 
lips and her forehead, but chose not to answer that 
question. She let Salim wrap her arms around her, whilst in 
the distance they could hear the high-pitched cries of 
ecstasy as Dalitha and Maisie gave each other pleasure. 
Soon, she knew, Rosemary and Amna would become 
involved, and she decided that despite her own sexual 
preferences, she would rather spend the evening keeping 
her hostess happy, than just add a fifth body to the melange 
of flesh that would soon take centre stage in the living 
room. She kissed Salim tenderly.

"For tonight, Salim, you have me and me alone," she said 
reassuringly.









