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Okay, I’m not a writer, so this is going to be short. I live in a major Mexican resort town. Name is Anna. Lived in Los Angeles for many years, but have come home to Mexico now. I speak perfect English, which is useful, for reasons I’ll explain later.

My husband died unexpectedly a few years ago, leaving me comfortably off. We had a beach cottage, and his life insurance plus social security from the States meant I could live a life of leisure. Problem is: I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I’m 42, quite tall for a Mexican, strong firm breasts, trim, no cellulite. My hair used to be long but I cut it short a few years ago. I like to wear bikinis, unlike most women my age. Every year, spring breakers from the U.S. over-run the beach. MTV comes down sometimes, doing events a mile or so away. The kids go wild. They bring cases of Coronas and tequila to the beach, and party day and night. It’s fun to watch.

After my husband died, I started lazing around on the beach a lot. Boys often talk to me. Like I said, I still look pretty good. It feeds my ego. But my attention is on the girls.

I realized the girls in their skimpy, wet suits turned me on. I’d always admired pretty women, but I never considered myself a lesbian. Now, however, it felt different.

One day, I chatted up a girl. We went back to my cottage. After wine and a nice dinner, we made out.

I was surprised at how excited I got, and that the girl offered so little resistance. Maybe because she was on vacation, maybe because she knew she’d never see me again and there would be no “complications.” At any rate, she claimed she’d only kissed one girl before, on a dare in high school. We went slow that night, but by dawn we were making love.

It changed my life. Every year I would find a few girls who were willing to try something new. I bought a toy or two, for the more adventurous ones.

This year, spring break had just begun and the beach was the usual party scene with lots of drinking, rowdiness, boom boxes and frisbees. As I surveyed the scene from my towel on the sand, I noticed one girl sitting off by herself, reading. She had blond hair, sunglasses, a rather plain bikini, and a frowning expression as she turned the pages. She was not fat, but chubby. C-cups. Her hair was in a ponytail, and I could see that she had not used a strong enough sunblock on her fair skin.

A frisbee landed near her, and she looked up. A boy ran up to retrieve it, ignoring her. She turned back to her book.

I rose, taking my bag and towel, and re-positioned myself near the girl. She did not notice. After a moment, I smiled.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

She started, looking quickly at me. Then she returned my smile. “Just some Conrad.” She showed me the paperback’s cover. “It’s for a class. I’m behind.”

“I’m amazed you can read anything with this racket.”

She laughed. “Well, it’s hard actually. I’ve read the same page five times.”

Stacey was from Salt Lake City. She attended a midwestern college, and this was her first real trip. She and her friends had pooled their money for a group deal on the airfare and hotel. The other girls were further down the beach.

“Why aren’t you with them?” I asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “These obnoxious guys came by, drunk and everything. They kind of joined us. The girls didn’t seem to mind, but I did.”

We spoke a while longer. A boy running by between us kicked up sand.

“Ptuh!” Stacey spit a bit of sand, and brushed her face.

“Hey,” I began. “Want to get out of here?”

“Sure.” She tried to brush more sand off herself, scraping the suntan oil with her fingernails. She looked back at me, uncertainly.

“My house is right there.” I pointed to the cheery little cottage, 100 yards away. “We can get away from this, and have a drink. You’d better get out of the sun, anyway. You’re starting to burn.”

“Oh, yeah.” She touched her pink skin. “Okay. I don’t drink, though. I’ll go find my friends and tell them, in case they look for me.”

We said our goodbyes, and parted. I quickly hopped in my car, and made a beeline for the store. I bought a special Mexican cake, and a few big bottles of cider. I’d barely returned home when there was a knock on the door.

“Hi!” Stacey smiled. She had raccoon eyes from where her sunglasses had shaded her face, and her nose was red. Her eyes were light blue, innocent and friendly. The straps of the plain yellow bikini cut into her pink flesh. I welcomed her in, closed the door, and told her to make herself comfortable.

“Y’know,” she began, “I’ve got suntan oil all over me. I’d better not…” She glanced uncertainly at the upholstered chairs and couch.

“I’ve got just the thing,” I said. I retrieved an old blanket, and we sat on the living room floor.

“Would you like some apple juice?”

“Sure!” she said. “That would be great.”

I entered the kitchen and poured one of the big bottles of cider into a carafe. It was strong stuff, more potent than bursa yabancı escort beer, and it “crept up” on you. I joined Stacey with the carafe, and two glasses.

“This is apple juice?” she said, making a face after the first sip.

“Yes, a special Mexican kind. It’s less sweet, but more soothing.”

“Oh.” She took another sip, then another. As we chatted, I confirmed what I had already guessed: she was a Mormon, and never drank alcohol. “Or so she thinks,” I chuckled to myself.

We talked for a couple of hours, getting to know each other. She did not have a boyfriend. There were no prospects. She wanted a boyfriend, but was afraid.

“Afraid of what?”

“Well…” She glanced at her watch. “Oh my gosh, it’s five already!”

“Do you have to go?”

“My friends are all, we’re all going out tonight.”

“Where to?”

“Some place called Tequila Frog’s.”

I told her about the place: lots of drinking, lots of obnoxious boys, nudity…

She was repulsed. “Ugh. I think I’ll pass. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.”

“I should let them know, though, so they don’t worry.”

I fished out a phone book and she left a message for them at the hotel.

“If I’d known this trip was going to be one big booze-fest, I never would have come,” she said, slurring slightly as I refilled her glass. We’d gone through quite a bit of cider. The sun had made her thirsty.

“It’s like,” she continued, “all the girls wanna do is drink and let guys hit on them. They flaunt it, y’know? Linda, oh my gosh, you wouldn’t believe how skimpy her bikini is. It’s like it’s not there.”

“You were saying,” I reminded her. “What are you afraid of?”

She slowly told me that she was afraid that if she got a boyfriend, she would have sex. “I’m waiting ’till marriage. That’s it. Period. But, it’s like, I’m not afraid of a guy forcing me or anything, I know I have better judgment than to date a boy like that. It’s more, I’m afraid of myself. Giving in, saying, ‘Okay, what the hell.'” She giggled, covering her mouth. “I said hell!” She cackled, rolling on her back.

I smiled. “We should eat something. Want some cake?”

I got the cake. “This tastes funny,” she said, licking at her fork delicately. Her pink tongue darted out again. Her tongue was moist and pink. It made me breathe heavier.

“It’s a Mexican specialty,” I replied. It certainly was. A local bakery made a famous torte that contained rare, blue agave tequila. Lots of it. Smoooooth. It was expensive, but worth it. “Don’t you like it?” I asked, making an anguished face.

“Well…” She registered my hurt expression. “No, it’s good.” She took a big bite, washing it down with cider.

We kept eating and chatting a bit longer, then she suddenly came back to the subject of boys. “I’m just afraid that… In the heat of the moment, I’ll suddenly lose perspective.” She looked down at her thighs, which were still sand-speckled and glistening.

“Stacey,” I said suddenly, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Really?” She looked at me, wide-eyed.

I proceeded to make up a story about how, when I was her age, that exact thing had happened to me. I had been kissing my first boyfriend, and I had lost all control and before I knew it we, we were…

“Oh!” Stacey’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Anna, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I was so ashamed.” The cider had got to me, too, and was helping my method acting. I kept going, rolling with the moment: “I didn’t know anything about boys, how they kiss, how I should kiss, how I should act. If I…”

“What?”

“If I’d only had some experience, someone to teach me, I would have never…”

We sat in silence a minute. “That’s what I wish,” she said quietly. “If only I could…”

“You know, Stacey. I think I met you for a reason today.”

She looked at me strangely. “To warn me?”

“No, no. I think I have to teach you how to kiss.”

Her lower lip dropped slightly. “Most girls practice when they’re young,” I said matter-of-factly. “With other girls. But you didn’t, did you?”

“They do?”

“Yes, everyone does it. That’s how girls get experience. That’s how they know what to do, and so when it happens for real they don’t get too carried away. All my friends did it, except me.”

“Oh.” She sat, silently.

“Well maybe.” She looked up at me again. “You mean, we practice? Right here?”

“It’s not hard.” I smiled. I couldn’t push her. I had a theory. Stacey’s problem wasn’t that she was afraid of getting carried away with a boy. Her problem was that she just didn’t like boys. I had noticed her checking out my swimsuit-clad body. She had become more and more obvious, as she drank, until she was simply staring at my boobs for seconds on end.

“I guess so, okay,” Stacey said. She was sitting up at an angle, legs tucked under. “What do I… What should I…”

I patted the blanket next to me invitingly. She hesitantly crawled over, and sat facing me. We could bursa sınırsız escort both lean on the couch.

“Now, a boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing will come in like this.” I gave her a quick peck. Her lips were salty, sandy, soft. She inhaled deeply, wide-eyed. “But,” I continued, businesslike, “The boy who’s got some experience will do this.” I placed a hand behind her neck, massaging gently. Staring at her lips, I slowly leaned in to her face. Her eyelids fluttered shut as my lips met hers. After a long kiss, I broke off.

“You must remember to breathe, though your nose,” I gently reminded her.

“Right, sorry,” she gasped.

We made out. I pushed my tongue playfully through her lips, and her mouth opened in surprise. I fluttered my tongue inside it, touching the warm pink tongue that had licked the fork. I massaged her neck, working my fingers through her moist blonde hair. She moaned. My other hand still held my glass. Holding the glass in front of me, I let my fingers casually brush her breast. Then again.

“How are you?” I asked as we broke off. We’d been kissing a long time.

Her face was flushed, and she took short breaths. “I’m okay,” she said, with a slight quaver.

“Good. All right. Now, a girl usually puts her arms around the boy’s neck.” She obeyed, hesitantly. “And the boy will try to touch her a little. The touching is all right, as long as the girl doesn’t lose control. I’m going to touch you now,” I continued in my businesslike tone, “And when you lose control, you’ll know just how far you can go. Then you’ll know where to stop it in the future.”

Without waiting, I kissed her again, setting down my drink. I could smell the coconut oil and sweat on her body, and her breathing through her nose grew fierce. I waited for her to calm down, then I placed my hands on her hips, very lightly. Again, the heavy breathing; then, it subsided once more. Slowly, oh so slowly, I ran my fingertips up her thighs, her back, her torso; every time I thought she might break away, I backed down. It was so sexy, it was seduction, and I suddenly knew what it felt like to be a teenage boy, touching a girl for the first time.

I broke off, giving her cheek light kisses. I worked my mouth down her neck, kissing and nibbling. She moaned softly as I traveled down to the swell of her breast. I kissed and licked her pink sunburned skin, teasing, until I reached the border of her bikini top. I ran the tip of my tongue along the hem of the yellow fabric, and, with a finger, pulled it ever so slightly lower. She did not resist. I continued pulling the material down licking the fresh white skin. She placed both hands on the back of my head, nuzzling my ear. I pulled more and there was her nipple, light pink against milky-white. I playfully touched the nipple with the tip of my tongue and then suckled her, lightly, forcing her to push my mouth into her breast with a moan.

She was far gone. As I sucked her breast, I moved my other hand to her lap. I ran my fingertips lightly up and down the front triangle of her bikini panties. I massaged deeper and deeper, moving my fingers into the little treasured area between her tightly-pressed thighs. I felt her grow wet.

“It’s time you lost these,” I whispered in her ear as I tugged at her bikini bottom. “I have to show you some other things.”

She simply nodded, hyperventilating. It was dark outside. I quickly turned off the lights, and settled next to her. Illuminated by blue moonlight, I watched her breasts reveal themselves as I unsnapped her bikini top and let it fall to the blanket. They were young and firm, like spears. I straightened her legs and slowly, slowly pulled the panties down, watching the tuft of light blonde pubic hair appear magically between her legs. I removed my bikini also, and watched with satisfaction as she gaped at my thick black bush.

“Lie down, Stacey. No no, on your side.” She obediently did as she was told. I settled down in the opposite direction and lifted her knee. Her glistening pussy almost blushed as the thighs parted, blonde hairs gleaming in the moonlight.

I settled my head comfortably on her thick, soft thigh and began to slowly kiss and lick it. Her body shivered. I kneaded her large buns and licked and sucked her little slit. I spread my own legs so she could get a good look. I wanted her to look at my pussy as I ate her. I didn’t expect her to eat me, it was too soon. I just wanted her to stare at it, be mesmerized by it, think about it in the future every time she masturbated.

She was sopping wet. The girl had never known anything like this. She nearly came; I backed off, then resumed. Every time her shivers and moans indicated an approaching orgasm, I took a break. I could feel the heat and frustration rising in her; she wanted to cum, so badly.

Finally, I sat up. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes glazed over. A flush had crept over her entire body. She was beyond reason. “Stacey, I want you to do something.”

“What?” görükle escort she whispered, gasping. I rose.

From a hall closet, I retrieved a box. Returning to her, I opened the box and watched her stare, unblinking, as I slowly withdrew a large rubber phallus. “Do you know what this is?”

She nodded.

“This is a cock. You must learn how to deal with it. You will remain a virgin–I promise you–but you must learn other things. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to take this, and suck it.”

She looked at me hesitantly. Then, reaching, she touched the dildo for a moment. Her fingers slid around the base, and she took it from my grasp. Staring at it, she opened her mouth and slowly placed her lips around the very tip. She looked at me for instructions.

“That’s right. Suck the tip. Gently. Now move it further into your mouth. That’s it… In and out. And suck. Give it a slight twist, in and out… Good.”

Eyes closed, she moved the cock in and out of her mouth, making slight sucking noises whenever her lips lost contact. I reached into the box and withdrew a special belt. As I finished attaching it to my hips, she opened her eyes and stopped.

“Take it out of your mouth, now.” She did, staring at the patent-leather belt that now encircled my thighs. On the crotch of it was a metal disc. “The cock attaches to this belt, Stacey. Do you see the metal thing on the base of the cock?” She checked it, and nodded.

I settled on my splayed knees, facing her. “Attach it on.” She knelt, obediently, in front of me and I helped her click the cock into place. “Now resume sucking.”

I watched the plump young girl’s head bob gently up and down on my lap. The moonlight, and the sound of the waves in the distance, made it an impossibly erotic moment. “That’s right, Stacey,” I whispered, brushing her blond hair aside so I could see her face. “Up and down, as deep and you can. Steady. Steady rhythm. That’s right.” I drank in the young girl, sucking her first cock. Almost hypnotized, she moved her mouth up and down on it, eyes closed, hand firmly gripping the base of the shaft. Her knees were neatly together, feet tucked under her butt.

I turned my attention to her plump behind, round and firm, jiggling in little motions, the cheeks slightly parting and coming together as the girl moved her upper body. “Your butt is so firm, Stacey. It’s so strong and feminine. Your butt is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She made an “un-unh” noise as she continued her work.

“I want your butt, Stacey. I want to put this there. I will not put it anywhere else. I want your butt, Stacey, I want you to give it to me.”

She stopped. And, without hesitation, turned around on her knees away from me. She placed her hands on the couch cushions and lowered her head submissively.

“Bring your butt higher, that’s right,” I breathed. The cock was dripping wet with her saliva. Inches in front of it, her plump behind awaited, marked with a big V where the bikini bottom had protected it from the sun. I reached down and massaged the firm, soft, cheeks. Gently, I parted the white pillows to expose her puckered pink anus, winking at me.

“You will have to push back on it, Stacey, slowly, very slowly, it will take time, do you understand?” Head bowed, she nodded silently. I put the tip against her anus and held the shaft. Her body shivered. Slowly, she pushed onto the knob until it began to enter.

“That’s right, slowly, let it go in slowly,” I cooed, reaching down past her tummy to rub her wet bush.

“Uuuuh,” she groaned.

I wished I had lubricant, but there was no time. “Yes, just like that, Stacey,” I whispered, taking a glass of cider with my free hand. I poured the liquid on the girl’s behind and watched it gather where the cock blocked the passage of her crack. The cock moved deeper.

“In and out, Stacey,” I whispered, leaning forward to speak in her ear. “This is a cock, Stacey, this is what a cock feels like.” Minutes passed as we did our little dance, moving against each other. Our bodies grew slick with sweat.

“Oh, God,” she groaned as the cock moved in and out, up to half its length. I rubbed her clitoris expertly, kissing her shoulders. She arched her back, trying to move her whole body and not just her butt. I grasped her shoulders firmly and helped her find her rhythm. The cock moved in and out, in and out, deeper and deeper. Her groans grew louder.

“That’s right, Stacey,” I breathed as I felt her body begin to tremble. The girl was going to come, and there was no stopping it this time. I seized her ass and fucked her, really fucked her, as she let out a caterwauling wail. The cock disappeared completely inside her as my hands lunged under her armpits to grab her shoulders from underneath, thrusting into her plump body as deep as I could.

Her cries continued as the orgasm wracked her, head to foot, her face buried in the couch cushions, me on top of her. Finally, her wails and trembling subsided. I slowly pulled the cock out of her, and removed the belt. She slid to the floor, nearly unconscious. I gathered her up in my arms and cuddled her to me.

Finally she whispered: “Am I a lesbian?”

“I don’t know,” I said, kissing her damp hair. “Maybe. Maybe not. Or you may be bi. Is that so terrible?”

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