The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Fair Share

Part 35

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright © 2018

Archived on the Erotic Mind Control web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

Meredith sighed. Her head hurt from concentrating. She was still suffering from being woken up too soon. She wished she’d slept longer. She’d even dozed off after she’d pulled out her laptop to do some work.

There were words running around her head. Words she could almost reach. Something about…

Sexy? Sophisticated?

Something about women who were sexy and sophisticated. Wouldn’t she want to be like that?

Wouldn’t she want to be with women who were like that?

I’m a queer girl.

Meredith froze. That was wrong. Definitely wrong. Absolutely, totally wrong. No matter how the thought echoed inside her. No matter how she could feel the words to the core of her soul, it wasn’t right.

I’m bisexual. I want sex with girls.

More words. How could words well up inside her at the same time as they pushed down?

No, no. It’s just what I saw this morning. That’s all it is.

It wasn’t Alison’s fault. Or Jane’s. The pair were so deeply in love, anyone could see that. So them going at each other like rabbits was only to be expected. It was kind of cute really. They didn’t have to do it in the lounge room though. Two girls. Having sex.

Hot sexy girls turn me on.

It was like something was playing in Meredith’s head. A recording. Only it was her voice.

What she’d felt watching her housemates wasn’t so bad. It didn’t mean anything. Two people, having sex. It was no surprise that turned her on. Just like watching pornography. You saw people the same sex as you in a lot of pornography. And if you were turned on watching it didn’t mean you weren’t straight.

At least that’s what Meredith told herself. Told herself it didn’t matter how turned on she’d been watching two girls having sex. She’d been dripping and cumming and…

I’m straight.

That other voice, that sounded just like hers, was in Meredith’s head.

I’m bisexual. I want sex with girls.

She didn’t want to believe that. Couldn’t believe it. It was only natural she’d been aroused.

Even without them hypnotising each other.

I want to be hypnotised. She didn’t know which of the voices that was.

Meredith forced the thoughts down. Alison had already hypnotised her today, she couldn’t ask again. Alison was a friend. A good friend. Always ready to help. Always willing to hypnotise her whenever Meredith asked.

It wasn’t Alison’s fault that being hypnotised turned Meredith on so hard.

Nothing to do with her being a girl. Nothing at all. Maybe I’m just kinky.

That would explain why Meredith’s breath caught every time she thought about going under. Why her nipples would harden and her pussy would moisten and she had to rub her thighs together because the thought was just too much and if she didn’t do that then she’d have to use her fingers and that had nothing at all to do with Alison being a girl.

A really attractive girl.

Queer girls are attracted to girls.

Stop that!

She couldn’t be into girls.

Maybe if I found a guy I really trusted. Meredith imagined some hunk, maybe like Mr Six-Pack from the night before, but with more brains, putting her under. She’d be in a little black dress. Matching high heels and her best jewellery. His voice would wash over her. Deep, assured. Send her down to the black space. She’d be so turned on. He could get her to do anything. She’d want to do anything. Blankly staring as she slipped out of that dress. She’d be so wet, her nipples rock-hard and she’d do anything she was told.

Meredith drifted in the daydream, her attention wandering from the assignment she’d been working on. If she was hypnotised she wouldn’t even know if that lover reached out and touched her. Stroked her cheek. The touch so soft, so delicate. Lips ghosting across hers. She could almost picture her lover. Long, silken, hair and amazing curves and…

No!

Meredith couldn’t believe that the image of her lover, her hypnotist, had slipped from a man to a woman. She didn’t want that. Angry with herself she pushed the whole image away.

At least the raging arousal that had threatened to overwhelm her had died away to a slow simmer by the time Alison had woken her up. Meredith’s body had been such a weird mix of delicious aches and muscles that didn’t want to work. She’d felt so good. As if she’d had some of the best sex of her life.

That couldn’t be true. It must have been the effects of the night before still lingering. Although she couldn’t remember either of the guys she’d had being that good. Not even Mr Six-Pack. But whatever the reason the burning desire had been under control. She’d even managed to use the afternoon to get a decent amount of work done on some of her assignments.

God knows I needed that, Meredith lamented. Her nocturnal adventures had left her seriously behind on some of her subjects.

And it certainly had nothing to do with the number of times she had cum that morning watching her friends.

Hot sexy girls turn me on.

No!

At least she’d had Alison to put her in trance. Delicious hot, mind-melting trance. Not the only thing it was melting. Oh fuck. Meredith shivered. She wasn’t going to think of that. But that had been hours ago and the molten need was building in her again.

Maybe I should get Alison to hypnotise me again. But Meredith wasn’t going to do that. She couldn’t. Twice in one day would be too weird. Alison might wonder what was going on with her. And anyway Alison and Jane had disappeared soon after Meredith’s session. They hadn’t said where they were going or when they’d be back. Although Meredith had caught them whispering the name Gillian. Which didn’t make a lot of sense to Meredith after the morning’s argument.

Unless.

Oh god

Maybe Gillian was another of Alison’s slaves. How many does she have? An image of a bevy of docile beauties forced its way into Meredith’s mind before she hurriedly dismissed it.

Does she hypnotise them? Oh fuck!!

Meredith didn’t want to go there. But if this Gillian was one of Alison’s slaves then it would explain why Jane had been feeling neglected. Although the couple seemed to have sorted that out. Maybe Jane and Alison were off with Gillian now. Doing who knows what.

I mean, what would someone do with a slave?

Images slammed into Meredith’s head. She really wished she hadn’t asked that question. She was no innocent. It wasn’t her scene, but she knew enough about BDSM to know what someone might do with a slave. The images wouldn’t go away. This girl, this Gillian, naked, Jane naked, Alison naked. Gillian crawling across the floor. Gillian, bound, their bodies entwined, hands and lips and breasts and pussies.

I’m aroused by beautiful girls.

That voice again, her voice, but so strange, a lifeless droning reciting words over and over and over.

Meredith’s pussy was on fire, her hand reaching for her centre.

“No!” she cried, dragging her hand away, her left hand grasping her right wrist. She wasn’t into girls. She was straight. She didn’t mind what other people did. Hell, if she did she wouldn’t be living with two flagrant lesbians. But it wasn’t her.

No matter what that voice in her head was saying.

Being straight was part of what she was. How she saw the world. Meredith shook, fear running through her, cold sweat dripping down her back. She struggled, and failed to stop her hands shaking. She had to be straight. Her whole self-image was built on that. She didn’t dare contemplate what it might mean if that wasn’t true. Being anything other than normal was simply too terrifying for her to contemplate.

She needed a guy. She needed to forget. Alison wasn’t here to hypnotise her and she needed something to sate the burning need that she felt. Something to stop her thinking the thoughts she refused to think. She needed to get to a bar and find…

Ideas flowed into her head. Gorgeous girls. In short dresses. Look at their legs. Dresses so tight you can see every line of their body. Beautiful girls. The most beautiful girl I know is Kathy.

Ideas a girl into other girls would think.

I’m a queer girl.

Memories of her friend cascaded through Meredith’s mind. Kathy, brushing her hair back. Standing up, her legs outlined by her tight jeans. The little smile she sometimes gave. The sweep of her breasts in a tight top. Her laugh. Thighs emerging from under a short skirt. Arse swaying. God, she so knows how to walk in heels. Kathy’s eyes, deep pools someone could lose themselves in, those lips that looked so soft, so kissable.

Meredith hands formed into fists, the grip so tight she was sure her fingernails were drawing blood from her palms.

Even if she ever was into girls which is impossible she’d never go for Kathy. Friends was one thing. But Kathy was too perfect, too elegant. Not a hair out of place. She’d been different once, but now she was something out of a magazine, looking like she actually belonged in the designer wear she owned.

Where the hell does she get the money for that? She used to be so broke.

Meredith wouldn’t want a girl like Kathy. She’d want a different girl, someone down to earth, maybe outdoorsy. Not like Kathy. Not so sophisticated.

But still sexy. Sexy girls turn me on.

Meredith leaped up from the table, ignoring the papers that fell in her wake. She needed a shower. A very cold shower. Then she had to get out of here. Find a guy. Any guy. Someone who would make her stop thinking things like that.

* * *

Meredith sighed. Leaning her head on one hand she slowly ran a finger of the other hand around the rim of her fluted glass. She couldn’t even get up the enthusiasm to finish off the cocktail it held. Moodily she peered into its pink depths.

The bar was packed. People her age, out for a night of fun. It was just where Meredith wanted to be. There were always guys in a place like this. Looking for a girl by herself. A pretty girl in a short dress. Not that there was any shortage of those here. Meredith had been in places like this so often in the last few weeks. To get what she wanted. What she needed. It was just that tonight she hadn’t found what she was looking for yet.

Her finger completed another circuit.

It wasn’t as if there weren’t guys in here. There were lots. And a lot of them weren’t with a girl.

Not that that had stopped Meredith in the past.

But she couldn’t get up the interest.

I’ll stop chasing boys.

That voice again. Her voice. That strange, flat, tone. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have to chase boys. They came to her. They had come to her.

She’d blown every one of them off.

Meredith couldn’t understand why. She’d put on her favourite little black dress, the one that was sleeveless and so tight and short and had fabric that subtly glinted in just the right light. Put on her highest, most expensive, heels and her best jewellery. And headed out to look for guys. She just didn’t want any of the ones she’d found.

Maybe they weren’t my type?

Which didn’t make a lot of sense, because lately her type had seemed to be anyone with a dick who was passably attractive.

Tonight she’d turned down guys who were much more than passably attractive.

It wasn’t that the need wasn’t there. It was. Pounding at her. Hard enough to make her eyes lose focus and her pussy throb in time with the music and she needed something to satisfy that need so bad.

But whenever an attractive guy tried to talk to her she’d give him the cold shoulder and go back to her drink.

Her finger completed another circuit.

Her drink was almost the most interesting thing here. It was the most interesting thing. If she ignored something. Well, a few somethings.

Like the blonde in the corner, in the green dress and legs that went on forever. Or the dark-haired beauty with the amazing arse. Meredith was convinced she was wearing a thong under those jeans. Maybe the same pink as her cocktail. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing anything at all under the denim. And then there was the brunette whose tits threatened to pop out at any moment. Or…

I’m a queer girl. that voice said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Meredith leapt off her stool, almost tripping over her heels as she dived for the exit. She had to get away. She couldn’t think of girls in that way.

It was the same reason she’d left the other three clubs she’d been in that night.

* * *

Meredith sighed as she looked out of the window of the cab. The cab was stopped at the lights. She wanted to get to the next club. She was sure she’d find someone there. Someone to fuck her until she couldn’t remember her name. The aching need would go away for while. She had to believe that. She looked out the window, willing the lights to change. Then caught her breath. The cab was at that corner again. The one where she’d seen the prostitutes.

Prostitutes are sexy. Prostitutes are sophisticated. The voice was telling her that. She didn’t trust the voice. It was her voice. But it told her things that she didn’t want to believe.

Maybe this time she could trust it though. The girls strutting by the side of the road or leaning into car windows were definitely sexy. Long legs and tight clothes over trim bodies. And to Meredith they looked sophisticated. At the very least they were confident. They knew what they were offering and what they would get.

A man to fuck them.

An image skittered across her mind. Of her opening the cab’s door. Stepping out. Standing next to those girls, on that street corner. Her dress was short and tight. Just like the clothes those girls were wearing. She was sexy. Just like they were. She could be sophisticated, just like them.

Didn’t I used to despise whores? Meredith was sure she had. But right then she was thinking of standing next to them. Being one of them. Selling her body to any man who pulled up. It would be so easy.

Prostitutes have fun. the voice assured her.

Being one of them would get her what she wanted. What she needed. Man after man. Fucking her. Driving the need away. But she couldn’t do that, could she? It was impossible. Selling herself like that. So cheap. Losing part of herself.

I can’t.

It would be so easy. Just get out of the car and walk over there.

Meredith’s hand was reaching for the door handle as the lights changed to green and the taxi pulled away. Hurriedly she snatched her hand back, unable to believe what she’d almost done. Her breath was ragged, fear and just a tinge of regret coursing through her. Meredith watched, out of the rear window, as the prostitutes faded into the night. Watched as one of them stepped into a car and went off to be fucked. Her pussy quivered at the sight.

Meredith was still thinking about that when the taxi disgorged her in front of the next club. The neon blinked at her, announcing ‘The Nook’ to anyone passing by. She’d never heard of it. But she’d hadn’t given the driver precise instructions, simply telling him to take her somewhere different. Then added “a bar” when he’d looked at her blankly. That, and her pointed glare, seemed to have been enough direction.

From the look of the place Meredith wasn’t expecting much. Resignedly she followed the steps leading down to a basement entrance. Now that she was here she may as well give it a chance. As long as there was a guy here that would do for what she wanted she couldn’t care less about anything else. At least it would make her think of something other than whores back on that street corner.

Meredith shivered. It wasn’t the cold of the night.

As she made her way inside Meredith had to admit that the place didn’t look half bad. Although in the low lighting she wasn’t sure. With the dark green velvet wallpaper above white plaster and antique lighting on the wall it almost looked like something from a plantation. The dark wooden furniture only added to the impression. There were deep booths, lit only be candlelight, and on the other side of the place a long bar. There were certainly plenty of people here. An odd mix. Biker jackets and black jeans. Tee-shirts and blue jeans. Black leather pants that Meredith was sure would cost more than her clothing budget for the year. Skirts suits that looked like an up-market office party had ended up here. Short, tight, dresses, just like hers, girls dressed up for a night on the town. Nobody seemed to mind the mix strange, none of the girls giving the others any trouble about how they were dressed.

Oh fuck.

The only people here were girls. Or women. Women with arms around each other. Women making out in the booths. Women dancing with each other. Not like girls do, just friends on a dancefloor. Meredith could see the hunger in eyes that roamed openly over bodies moving in time to the music.

Meredith knew exactly where she was.

I’m a queer girl. Sexy girls turn me on. There was no shortage of sexy girls in front of her.

Her first instinct was to bolt. Turn around and run. If she was fast enough the taxi might still be there. Might be able to take her away. Back to the bars she knew.

But Meredith wasn’t like that. She wasn’t the sort to flee. Some of the girls had seen her. It was clear some of them liked what they saw.

She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her run. She could tell that some of them were weighing her up. Who was she? Was she meeting someone here? Or was she available? Obviously they didn’t know her. Was she some straight girl here on a dare?

Of course I’m straight.

I’m bi.

Meredith ignored that second thought, no matter how it seemed to come from her very core.

She knew what to do. She’d walk over to the bar. Order a drink. That’s what you did in a bar. It would be easy. She could do that. She’d stay for a while. Finish her drink. Then leave. Not make a scene. And then she’d go back to the bars were she could find a guy.

Maybe this was a good thing. If she followed her plan she’d prove to herself that the voice was wrong. She could sit in this bar full of girls.

Hot, sexy girls.

I want sex with girls.

And do nothing. A queer girl wouldn’t do nothing in a place like this. If she could do nothing then Meredith would prove to herself that she was straight.

She walked over to the bar, ignoring the looks she was getting, ignoring just how her hips were swaying. Ignoring the fact that it might be just a little bit more than she’d put into her walk at the other bars. And then she sat down. And ordered a drink.

* * *

Meredith smiled. Her plan was working. Sure a couple of girls had tried hitting on her. She hadn’t expected anything different. And she’d blown them off. Just like the guys from earlier in the evening. First there’s been a girl in leathers, her blonde hair so short it may as well have been a buzz cut. Then a cute brunette, bangs framing her face and trying just a little too hard to be hip in blue jeans and a long cardigan. Despite the look, or maybe because of it, Meredith was sure the girl must work in an office somewhere. Meredith had been polite but firm. She’s told them she was happy by herself, that she just wanted her drink. It wasn’t any different to what she’d done with the guys. Well, maybe a little different, the girls more willing to accept her refusals. Her plan was working. She could leave here soon.

“Hello,” a voice said, the sound sending a shiver down Meredith’s spine.

With a start she looked to the side, to the woman who had spoken to her. Meredith’s breath caught.

She couldn’t tell how old the woman was, not exactly. She was definitely older than Meredith. But she had that timeless beauty that could have been anywhere between late twenties and early forties. There was barely a mark on her lightly tanned skin, but there was a knowing light in her eyes that youth just didn’t have. Dark brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, Meredith knowing just how much effort went into a look like that.

Not that the woman looked like she was making an effort. Everything about her was effortless, from the way she sat on the stool next to Meredith, to the slight smile on her lips, to the twinkle in her eyes. To the way she wore the designer dress that was displaying a set of curves that would make movie stars weep in envy.

Sexy. Sophisticated. The words rumbled through Meredith’s head like the beat of jungle drums. Primal. Unmistakeable.

“No-one should sit by themselves as long as you have. Especially not on a Saturday night.”

It was a simple observation. But the woman’s voice washed over Meredith like the finest silk, she could almost feel the tingling in her skin. She shivered as the woman’s eyes dropped for a moment, taking in her figure, then swept back to Meredith’s eyes.

“I’m f-fine,” Meredith stumbled. “Just finishing my drink. Then I have to go.”

“Oh, darling,” the woman smiled. “No-one comes here for just a drink. What are you here for?”

“N-nothing,” Meredith spluttered, eyes wide. “Look, um, thanks, but I’m straight.”

I’m a queer girl

I want sex with girls.

Meredith really, really, didn’t need the voice right then. Didn’t need the way this woman was making her feel. Didn’t need her nipples hardening, didn’t need her pussy moistening. Didn’t need to think how sexy the woman was, how sophisticated she was.

“Really?” the woman asked, genuine mirth making her look even more beautiful, the crinkles at the edge of her eyes nudging Meredith’s estimate towards the upper end of the age range she’d guessed. It didn’t matter, the woman was stunning. “Straight girls don’t come here. Maybe some girls who think they’re straight do. But deep down they know what they’re looking for. They sit by themselves and look. And then they talk to someone. I’m Lorraine, by the way. And you’re?”

“Meredith,” Meredith managed. Then wondered why she’d given this woman her name. This sexy, amazing, woman that she couldn’t take her eyes off.

The woman reminded Meredith of someone. Right then, she couldn’t think who.

“Hello Meredith.”

No-one had ever said her name like that. Like breath over her skin. Like lips ghosting over her nipples.

“So those girls tell someone a little about themselves. It’s so easy. Just a little conversation. What do you do Meredith?”

“I go to university.”

Lorraine smiled again. Meredith was fascinated by it. “Oh, I love university girls. They’re smart. They know what they want. So maybe one of those girls who comes here is a university girl. She talks to someone for a while. Decides what she wants. You know what she wants Meredith?”

“N-no?” Meredith replied, the word forcing itself past a lump in her throat as Lorraine leaned towards her.

“She wants another girl,” Lorraine whispered, her lips hovering an inch from Meredith’s ear. She could feel the older woman’s breath on her skin, the sensation shooting to her pussy.

I want sex with girls.

“She wants to have sex with another girl.”

Meredith quivered as Lorraine echoed her thought. Was it her thought? Or was it that other voice. That other voice that was her voice. Meredith wasn’t sure she could tell the difference any more.

“I think you’re one of those girls Meredith. What do you think?”

Meredith wasn’t sure she could think. Not with Lorraine’s voice washing over her. Not with the other woman’s fingers on her arm. Not with Lorraine’s fingertips gliding over her skin, leaving trails of flame in their wake. It was such a light touch. Meredith had no idea how such a fleeting contact could set off explosions deep within her.

Even if Meredith couldn’t think that didn’t stop the voice. Maybe that just made it easier for it to fill her head.

I want sex with girls. I’m queer. I’m bi. I want sex with girls so much. I need it. It’s the truth.

Meredith wasn’t sure that it was the truth. She wasn’t sure of anything. Wasn’t sure she wanted Lorraine to stop touching her.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“I think you do,” Lorraine replied, Meredith drowning in her smile. “If you didn’t want this you’d have told me to stop. You’d have told me to stop touching you.”

It’s a girl touching you. A girl making you feel like this.

It wasn’t Meredith’s voice in her head this time. It was Alison’s. Meredith didn’t know why her friend’s voice would be in her head. She couldn’t remember her friend saying those words to her. But it made sense, in a strange, twisted, way. Her friend was gay. She’d know about feeling like that when a girl touched you.

Meredith didn’t know any such thing. She didn’t know why her skin was aflame from where Lorraine was touching her. Didn’t know when the older woman had got so close. So close that their sides were pushing together, thighs touching, Lorraine’s arm around her.

When had skin touching skin ever felt so good?

I’m aroused by beautiful girls.

Lorraine was definitely beautiful. And if the woman could hardly be called a girl that wasn’t having any effect on Meredith’s arousal. Except for stoking it higher.

The backs of Lorraine’s fingers were stroking her cheek, the touch so gentle but so firm, pleasure shooting to Meredith’s brain, burning any thoughts away, her lips parting in a gentle sigh.

No words, just nod, yes or no.

Alison’s voice again. Meredith didn’t have any words. But she could nod her head. So she did.

Lorraine kissed her.

Meredith sank into the kiss. It was soft and wonderful and she was drowning in it. The woman smelt of roses and tasted of red wine and dark chocolate. Meredith could sink into her and never come up. Lorraine was holding her and caressing her and Meredith couldn’t think about anything else.

“It think it’s time we left,” Lorrain announced.

Meredith had no idea how much time later it was. She could barely process what the woman was saying. Meredith had wanted to leave the bar. When she’d finished her drink. Was her drink finished? She had no idea. She was going to leave. With Lorraine. She didn’t want to think about what was going to happen after that. Her skin was aflame, her breasts were aching with need and her pussy was a hot sticky mess and she didn’t want to think.

* * *

Meredith didn’t really think again until she was standing in the middle of an expensive apartment, designer furniture gracing the floor, modern art prints tastefully hung on the walls. She barely remembered getting there. There may have been a cab. There were definitely hands involved. And lips. And tongues. Hers. And Lorraine’s.

I’m a queer girl. Sexy girls turn me on.

Meredith was definitely turned on. Her panties had to be soaked. She could barely breathe. Barely walk. Something was approaching. Something she’d needed for so long. Something she didn’t want to think about.

“Do you like?” Lorraine asked, casually placing her purse on a table by the door.

“Um, yeah, it’s great.” Meredith didn’t know what else to say. She felt like she was still in school, fumbling through her first date. But her first date had been her age. That didn’t matter. And a guy. That mattered. Meredith didn’t want to think about it.

“Would you care for a drink?”

Meredith didn’t want a drink. She didn’t even want to think about forming an answer. If she tried to think about that then she might think about other things. About what she was doing here. About who she was with. About what they might do.

One word managed to form in her head. Might?

I’m bi. I want sex with girls so much. that other voice told her.

Stop thinking! she ordered herself.

Instead of thinking she reached out for Lorraine, took the woman’s face in her hands and kissed her. The need inside her was a wild thing, tearing at the bars of its cage. Meredith’s tongue danced in the older woman’s mouth, exploring, as she pressed her body into Lorraine’s, writhing and panting her need.

“I thought you said you were straight?” Lorrain smiled as they came up for air.

“Fuck me,” Meredith replied. She’d meant it to come out as a low, sexy growl.

Sexy girls turn me on.

Instead it was little more than a whimper, a desperate plea for help. The need pounded within her, almost free now, demanding satisfaction. This woman.

Sexy. Sophisticated.

This sexy, sophisticated woman could give her that. Could give her so much more.

Lorraine was reaching for the zipper of Meredith’s dress. Pulling it down as the young woman stood there, quivering in anticipation.

Oh god, she’ll see how wet I am.

Meredith’s dress pooled around her feet. Lorraine took her hand and led her to the bedroom. A massive bed stood in the middle of the room, all white covers and plush cushions.

Am I? Meredith left the question unfinished. Was she going to do this? Was she into girls? Was she going to take her last chance to run?

I’m a queer girl. That voice wouldn’t stop. Never stopped. Meredith realised it was always in her head. Repeating all those words, over and over.

I’m a queer girl. I’m bisexual. I want sex with girls. Hot sexy girls turn me on. I’m aroused by beautiful girls. I want sex with girls so much. I need it. Hot sexy girls. I want to do them. I want them to do me.

All those words, and so many more. Always going around and around in her mind. Seeping into every part of her. Even when she didn’t hear those words, didn’t realise they were there.

She wondered if they would ever stop.

Maybe Lorraine could make them go away too.

Meredith certainly couldn’t hear anything in her head as Lorraine slipped her dress off. All she could hear was her own moan at the heavenly sight before her.

And then they were on that bed. Meredith was gazing into beautiful green eyes.

Doesn’t someone else have green eyes?

She’d never felt so alive. Never felt like she was going to burn up into cinders. Meredith was thrashing on the bed and all Lorraine was doing was trailing kisses down her throat. The older woman’s lips reached her breast and Meredith could hardly breathe. She moaned, her back arching, as Lorraine took a rock-hard nipple between her lips. Where had her bra gone?

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Please what?” Lorraine asked, raising her head from where she’d been kissing her way down Meredith’s stomach, her smile that of a cat that just knew she was getting the cream. “Please stop? Please don’t stop? Please Lorraine, make me scream out your name?”

“Please touch me,” Meredith whispered. Lorraine was already touching her. But not in the way Meredith needed. Not in the way that inside her head she was crying out for.

Lorraine slipped lower. Meredith tensed. And then.

Frustratingly, achingly, gloriously she felt Lorraine’s lips on her thigh, creeping higher. Her body cried out as a fingernail grazed her crotch. Had she lost her panties as well? That fingernail inched teasingly closer.

I’m queer. I want sex with girls.

Was she having sex? All Lorraine had done was touch her. There was a boundary she hadn’t crossed.

I want sex with girls so much. I need it.

“Please,” she whispered again. Maybe it was asking for the voice to go away. Maybe it was asking Lorraine to give the voice what it wanted.

Lorraine’s tongue stroked the whole length of her opening, Meredith crying out. But she wasn’t there, not quite, not yet. Just a little more.

Lorraine’s lips were back on her thighs, the woman’s fingers teasingly sliding along the length of Meredith’s labia. Meredith was so wet. Then that tongue again. Bringing her to the edge. Meredith could taste it, feel it building.

Lorraine took it away again.

Over and over the older woman brought Meredith to the precipice. Holding her there, tantalising, Meredith’s body rigid, only for Lorraine to steal it away.

Meredith begged and thrashed and thrust her hips up, offering her pussy, trying to get that little bit more contact, that glorious final touch.

She’d never felt like this. Never wanted anything more than she wanted this.

I want sex with girls.

How could she ever have doubted it? With what that tongue, those fingers, were doing to her how could she ever have not wanted this?

And just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, just when she thought she’d pass out, when her back arched so hard that she thought it would break, Lorraine’s tongue went that fraction higher, brushed her clit, just a feather-light touch.

Her world exploded as she cried out Lorraine’s name.

She had no idea what her own was.

Then Lorraine did it to her again.

Then taught her how to do it to her.

And that was just the beginning.

(To be continued)