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This is how my story began, how I came to be who I am… well, it’s actually the story of both of us, Mary and me.
Over the course of my sixty-five years I’ve heard time and again that my sex life will diminish as I get older and statistics show that one day I won’t even think about it anymore. I’m here to tell you that’s just nonsense.
I see decrepit old men and women fumbling through the final years of their lives but I will not be associated with them.
We may be getting older, Mary and me, but we have discovered the simple truth of it. Our insatiable natures and promiscuous sex lives have kept us young. Mary and I can cum a dozen times a day… big sobbing earth-shattering orgasms that would put plenty of young bimbos to shame. The older we get the better we are at it and we are as fit in mind and body as any two old ladies have ever been.
We’ve been living this philosophy since the day we discovered what an orgasm was in the girls’ bathroom at school.
So this is that story. How two young girls discovered each other’s libido and turned it on like a light bulb in a dark room – making everything clear.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
IN THE GIRLS TOILETS
For most people who lived through the sixties, they were an exciting and turbulent time. Bras were burnt, hallucinogenic drugs were used and wild music was turning on the younger generation.
Unfortunately, the sexual revolution never quite made it to Rosetree Girls High School.
By and large, we were caught in a 1940’s time warp. Our male teachers were boring cardigan-wearing pipe-smokers. The lady teachers were so prim and proper butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. Cone bras, modest skirts, and horn-rimmed spectacles were the fashion for them. They were all repressed and authoritarian and lived strictly by the school rules.
Our school uniform was as archaic as the school’s attitudes and was strictly enforced. Any small infraction and you’d be on detention or caned. Yes. Caning naughty girls was still excepted practice. Being one of the naughty girls I had intimate experiences of being bent over a teacher’s knee and swatted with a switch or beaten with a wooden staff.
The top was a long-sleeve white shirt with the school emblem on the pocket. It was always done up under the neck with the school tie. Over this, we wore the schools pleated tartan pinafore – an apron with shoulder straps. It had to be long enough to cover the knees when walking and had to touch the floor while kneeling for prayer.
Shoes were black pumps with ankle high white socks. They had to be polished till you could see your reflection in them. If they were scuffed there’d be trouble. A girl may have had a bow in her hair by special permission but no bobby pins and no jewelry.
That was it. So much for the free-loving ’60s. No Beetle Mania, no Rolling Stones. No fun.
Sex education was not taught. Before Mary and I met neither of us had any idea of what sex really was. I remember seeing a film supplied by the Education Department that had animated birds and bees in it and scientific drawings of fallopian tubes but other then that nothing and our parents certainly didn’t tell us anything.
Can you see how innocent we were?
It was her third day at our school when I first noticed her. It was just the most beautiful girl in the world and she was looking in my direction… a goddess made human… a fairy princess…
Anyone who has been struck by Cupid’s arrow knows how I felt at that moment. Your first love spoils you for anyone else. It was like being struck by lightning.
Mary told me later that she had noticed me on her first day at school but it had taken her three days to work up the courage to smile at me across the playground.
Thick black shoulder-length hair framed a perfect oval face. Her high cheekbones had a sweet embarrassed flare like she’d been caught thinking naughty thoughts. A sweet mischievous nose, full red lips, deep dark eyes, and her beautiful body…
She wasn’t as tall as me but her boobs were bigger, much bigger than mine. They stretched the front of her uniform to breaking point… not like teen boobs at all. They were huge like my mother’s.
I didn’t really understand what I was feeling but I definitely wanted to be near her. How could I have known that in a few minutes I would be kissing her?
Being mean and bossy has always come easy for me. I was always in the middle of trouble and the center of attention, surrounded by all the other mean little bitches that looked up to me.
A new girl normally meant someone we could torment so it didn’t seem odd that I broke away from the conversation I was dominating and headed her way. They assumed I was going to beat her up and my progress casino şirketleri across the schoolyard was accompanied by their supportive calls…
“Beat her up good Lilly” or “break her face for me”. We really were pretty awful.
To my horror, I saw a look of fear come over my angels face. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. As I walked towards her through the crowded quad, she turned and walked off quickly with her head down. In anguish I saw watched disappear into the girl’s toilet block.
What a silly adolescent fool I was. I’d frightened her off. She knew I was a tough girl and imagined I was going to hurt her.
I’d intimidating her and scared her…
Mortified I followed her as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself, not even considering that cornering her might be a mistake.
My eyes took a moment to adapt to the cool, dark toilet block.
It was unpainted concrete cinder blocks, with a concrete floor painted a deep forest green. The only light source was the two-foot gap between the top of the wall and the suspended corrugated iron ceiling.
I remember like it was yesterday, the funky smell of disinfectant and cement as I walked slowly past the empty stalls, glancing in each for my dream girl.
It seemed completely empty.
Finally, I found her leaning back against one of the white porcelain washbasins at the far end. Her hands were behind her holding onto the edge of the bowl as though she that would give her some extra leverage for a quick getaway.
I tried to placate her, approaching slowly, hands out in front as though she was a skittish young dear I’d come across in the woods.
“I didn’t mean to scare…”
She tried to rush past me.
Without thinking I grabbed her by the arms.
“Wait wait,” I cried. “I didn’t…”
She struggled, desperately trying to break free but I was bigger and stronger. I backed her into an empty cubicle.
“Stop trying to escape you stupid little bitch.”
These were the first words I ever said to the love of my life and even today, fifty years later I regret them.
She was trembling and afraid. If I cared for her at all that was the moment I should have released her and apologized for scaring her and say something inane like ‘I hope we can be friends’ – but I didn’t do any of those things.
These are the moments that set the course of our lives.
Still holding her upper arms firmly I looked down at her. She wouldn’t meet my eye but she’d stopped trying to escape. I leaned down and smelt her hair, so clean and fresh in that ugly gray place. Was it my imagination or had she stopped shaking as much? Resigned to her fate maybe?
I heard noises getting louder.
The conversation of two or three girls was getting closer…
Releasing her arms, I fumbled with the door, closing it and turning the latch. When I turned back she had not moved. Her arms were still at her side and she looked up at me wide-eyed, her lips slightly apart like they wanted to be kissed
That subservient look thrilled me beyond words.
To my utter delight, she leaned forward and rested her beautiful head against my chest. She had stopped shaking all together.
My hands developed minds of there own. I would swear I was not controlling them. One of them found itself on the small of her back and the other found its way up onto the back of her neck.
Pulling her closer I buried my face in her thick black hair and breathed deeply, savoring the luscious aroma of her.
That was how we stood in that constricted space while those daft girls chatted outside our cubicle. How much they hated this or loved that and wasn’t this boy dreamy and wasn’t that boy just awful and so on.
Neither of us cared. I could have died happy at that moment. Mary and I stood quietly in each other’s embrace feeling the other’s heartbeat.
And then I felt her arms tentatively encircle my waist.
After a while the chatterboxes left. The place was quiet again and this gorgeous schoolgirl lifted her head and looked at me with the look of adoration she still has for me today. Leaning down I kissed her full red lips, once quickly, and then fearfully pulled back to gauge the reaction.
The sweet girl’s eyes were closed and her lips were begging for more and then we were kissing like Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr as waves crashed over us.
It was the first real kiss either of us had ever had.
Our tongues intertwined, my long blonde hair falling down over her face. My clever right hand slid down her back and over her plump round bottom and a violent wave of lust neither of us had ever felt before shook us simultaneously. We pawed and groped each other in a frenzy. I could see by the perplexed look on her face that she had no idea what was happening to her any more than I did.
How innocent and out of our depth we were.
I instinctively reached between her legs. Under her knee-length skirt I found her regulation casino firmaları white knickers soaking wet. She groaned into my mouth as my fingers fondled her pussy, pushing the soft cotton against her clitoris and her damp hole. She followed suit, rubbing the delicious itch between my legs as well.
As we rubbed each other’s wet inflamed cunts we were breathing heavily, looking hungrily into each other’s eyes. We were like explorers who had inadvertently discovered this most amazing thing, both of us wondering what would happen next.
Her hand found it’s way into my knickers a moment or two before I did the same. We began to finger each other’s cunts in earnest, mirroring each other’s movements, our panties slowly edging down our thighs. We moved together as one, rocking our hot young bodies against the other’s hand.
The wonder of those moments will stay with me forever.
My fingers, roamed over her pussy, felt her soft pubic hair, the dampness of the cleft between her legs and that special sensitive nub that seemed to be the source of our pleasure.
Minutes passed. Something was happening. I felt like I was going to explode.
Her fingers were inside me and mine in hers. That special spot felt especially good and we concentrated on it. The intense tight feeling grew and grew.
If there had been anyone else nearby we would have been caught. We began moaning into each other’s mouths, louder and louder.
As we both orgasmed we fucked each other’s pussies with three fingers and cried out, not caring who heard, rocking back and forth on each other’s hand as our juices gushed out and splattered on the painted concrete floor.
The gods must have been with us. Nobody heard us. Nobody banged on the door, demanding to know what was going on. Nobody had anything to make a scandal out of.
Panting with passion Mary and I looked at each other as if we had just discovered gold. I remember the tentative smile I gave her and the glisten of tears in her eyes.
I managed a greeting even though it felt very back to front.
“I’m Lilly,” I croaked. “What’s your name?”
“M… Mary,” she stuttered, squeezing me tightly. “I’m Mary.”
“Let me have your knickers please Mary,” I begged. “Let’s swap…”
As though it was the most normal request in the world she sat down on the toilet and pulled them down her plump thighs and over her black school shoes. I did the same with mine, holding onto the cubicle wall for balance.
I walked out of there, back into the sunlight, wearing Mary’s slick damp underwear and happily knowing she was wearing mine.
The schoolyard looked just the same but everything was different.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
We both knew what would happen if anybody found out about us and, realizing what we had was too precious to lose, we determined to be very careful.
At school, I made subtle changes that allowed Mary to hang around in the cool crowd. The others were a little unsure at first but I wasn’t particularly nice to her so they soon overlooked it. They were all sheep after all without a decent brain between them.
Slowly but surely we built a cover story that we hoped made our sudden friendship seem feasible. Within a month nobody could remember a time when we weren’t joined at the hip.
There was bound to be a bit of innuendo but none of the gossipers had any real idea what was going on. I think if I’d told them to their stupid faces they’d still say I was lying and just trying to shock them.
During school hours we were particularly careful not to draw attention to ourselves. Sometimes we would meet somewhere private at lunchtime, like a classroom closet or a toilet cubicle but otherwise, we waited till after school.
After school was when the fun really started.
At any given evening I was at Mary’s place for dinner or she was at mine. We were always respectful and pleasant with our respective families, chatting at the dinner table and washing up afterward. Then it was upstairs to ‘study’.
Both of our parents were excited and happy with their daughter’s new friend, we both came from good homes and moved in similar circles. Family names meant everything to them. Our friendship opened up a whole range of new social relationships and business opportunities.
My mother and father were ecstatic about Mary. They welcomed her into our family like a long lost sibling. “If anyone can get you on the straight and narrow it will be Mary,” they’d say.
Mary’s parents were the same about me. I was just the sought of influence their pretty quiet daughter needed to bring her out of herself.
It was all true of course. Our families became close and are to this day. Our fathers did business together and our mothers became the center of a bigger better social circle. Mary and my relationship was good for everyone around us and really set us up for the lives we went on to lead.
All we knew at the time was that sleepovers were wonderful. güvenilir casino
Chaste and cool we would head upstairs to the others bedroom and as soon as the door was closed our nickers were off and we were between each other’s legs, licking each other. Two busty teenagers in school uniforms, licking and lapping each other’s cunts. Girls who didn’t even have time to take their shoes and socks off, orgasming together and drinking each other’s juices like a thirsty man in the desert.
After we’d cum at least once it was time for homework. It was our break from each other – a time to recuperate.
Yes, we actually studied. In fact, our grades improved over time and we became top of the class in most subjects. Apparently we were good study buddies as well.
When we had done our work and our bodies had recovered it was time for round two. We’d get ready for bed, brush our teeth, say our goodnights and then when the door was closed; we were in each other’s arms again, bringing our insatiable bodies to orgasm again and again.
It was as schoolgirls we perfected the delicate art of orgasm in the sixty-nine position, developing techniques we use to this day. We took turns riding each other’s faces as well or just lay side by side frigging each other’s steaming hot pussies.
When we were done, we’d fall asleep in each other’s arms, happily exhausted, intertwined around each other’s sweaty bodies until round three in the morning before we got up and got ready for school.
Every night, night after night. It was the best time of our libidinous lives.
Even then we knew we weren’t really lesbians.
Our sex talk was as much about boys ‘things’ as it was about our ‘bits’. We weren’t sure what everything was called but we were quietly confident we knew what went where and why.
Unfortunately, our choice of appropriate suitors was limited. Rosetree Girls High School was, as its name suggests, a girls school. The only males were teachers or the big black groundsman who looked after the sports fields.
We spent hours discussing the relative merits of this man or that but the choice was made for us when the Pioneer Girls Camp was announced.
Pioneer Girls was part of our Social Studies syllabus. Among other things we visited the elderly, read to children and learned survival skills. God knows why. Maybe because the world was still in the grips of the Cold War. If we survived when the A-bomb fell we girls could help repopulate the ravaged planet, especially if we could tie a reef knot or make bread in a camp oven.
Anyway, it was fun, with lots and lots of camaraderie. There were twelve of us in Blue Brigade. We were paired up in the buddy system, six sets of two, so Mary and I shared a tent.
As a special bonus, our designated adult was the English teacher, Mr. Hambley. He was the only truly gorgeous man in the school.
You must remember that these were different times. Today the chances of a man looking after a dozen pubescent girls for several nights at a secluded campsite, miles from the nearest phone are zero. In the 1960s it wasn’t unusual at all.
He was a big man, standing over six feet tall but he was also muscular and lithe. And he was handsome as well with a gaunt, lined face and a big black handlebar mustache like Burt Reynolds.
Mary and me fantasized about him all the time so being near him for four days and three nights, way out in some remote camping ground was an opportunity we were not going to miss.
Lake Killabocko was where we were bivouacked. It was a four-hour bus ride to get to the middle of nowhere. When the school bus drove away the thirteen of us were completely cut off from the world. Remember this is the era before mobile phones.
We made sure to set up our little two-man tent as close to his as we could but apart from that we had no plans. We just determined to do something and hoped that the gods would provide.
The first evening we sat around a big campfire. Mr. Hambley played his guitar and led us in singing those silly camp songs that made us all feel like little kids. ‘Row, row, row your boat (in rounds), or Kumbaya (Kumbaya My Lord… Kumbaya).
Thankfully it started to rain and everyone ran to their separate tents to bunker down for the night.
Mary and I stripped off inside our tent and slipped into the regulation white cotton nighties we’d been provided. They were basically baggy ankle length shirts with three buttons up the front.
It was tricky in the confined space but eventually we fell happily together on top of our sleeping bags. It was always exciting to be alone together. With our arms wound around each other we kissed and kissed, rubbing our horny young bodies together as the rain poured down against the canvas.
“What’s going on here?” came a stern voice behind us.
We had been so wrapped up in each other and the rain was so loud we hadn’t heard Mr. Hambley unbuttoning the canvas tent flap.
He was looking at us sternly. How long had he been there? Rain was running off the brim of his pork pie hat and dripped off the ends of his handlebar mustache.
Like the good dutiful guardian, he was he’d been checking on his charges to make sure they were all okay.
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