My bisexual awakening - Part 1

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while. It relates to my first real sexual experience with another woman and it was one of the most intense, life changing and memorable experiences of my life. Many of you who have chatted to me on literotica.com will have heard parts or all of this story but I have resisted committing it to the page for fear of not being able to do it justice. Nevertheless, every time I have spoken of it either to partners or clients in real life or online to people I have been chatting with on Lit, the response has been universally positive... people seem to recognise the intensely erotic nature of the experience. So what the hell, let’s give it a go. Do let me know what you think. I should probably start this off with a few disclaimers. The legal age of consent in the UK is 16. These events happened less than 2 months before my 18th birthday over 10 years ago. Further, please do not interpret the fact that I am talking about my own experience, of which I was in complete control and took place entirely with my consent, as me somehow condoning any abuse or dxxxxx of minors, children or vulnerable people. Such behaviour is disgusting, unacceptable and, quite rightly, illegal. This was not that. Names have been changed in this account. So... with that over with...

I grew up pretty poor, but I turned out to be quite good at tennis. I started quite young s there was a programme at my school sponsored by the LTA which I really enjoyed and one of the coaches spotted that I was quite good and suggested that I should do more. I carried on and got better and started competing for my school. After a while I got a grant to have private coaching lessons. My previous coach was a guy in his early 20s... funny, cute, great body... very gay! We got on brilliantly and are still friends to this day (although we rarely play tennis now), but obviously there was no chance of romance! When I switched to the club coaching under the scholarship my coach changed to a guy in his 50s who was fun and a great coach but whose wife wasn’t very well, causing him to give up coaching just a couple of months after we started. My this coach, however, was Amanda.

Amanda was 42, incredibly fit , divorced about 5 years ago with 2 children at university (a boy of 21 who I never met and a girl who was 18). Amanda had played tennis at county level and was amazing. Long brownish blonde hair which she always wore in a pony tail, 5’8, slim, fake boobs but only a C cup, so not huge. I only ever saw her in a white tennis skirt and top. She hardly ever wore makeup but she always looked immaculate. I had seen her around the club a couple of times and never thought much to be honest, other than she looked a little stuck up and unfriendly so when I was told that Greg was leaving and Amanda would be taking over I wasn’t particularly thrilled. When we met properly for the first time though, my initial impressions were proved completely wrong. She was warm, funny, self deprecating and friendly. Wha more she was an incredibly focussed tennis coach. Over the course of the next few months she improved my game enormously and, as I progressed through the club’s ranks and began to think about playing at county level, our friendship also blossomed. She was incredibly frank and open... about everything. From her dislike of her ex-husband (fat, lazy and selfish), to her fears about her daughter going to uni and the house being empty. We talked about boyfriends (mine - frequent, inappropriate, disappointing, hers - usually rich, often married, rarely long term), politics and as time went by, increasingly we talked about sex, masturbation and toys.

These conversations principally happened in the showers and changing rooms after the coaching sessions. The club had communal showers and these were usually pretty quiet when we were practicing. This allowed for privacy when having increasingly risqué and explicit conversations which ranged from the best way to achieve a hairless pussy (she swore by waxing whilst I was a shaving girl, mainly down to cost... although I switched soon after and never looked back), to the toys she used when she masturbated to the porn we enjoyed, favourite sex positions, fantasies and eventually bisexuality.

This last one wasn’t something that she had hidden, she had dropped into conversation several times about previous girlfriends and we both shared a love of beautiful women in porn, both of us typically focusing on the woman in a porn video rather than the man. It’s more that i never felt confident talking about it. When you're a teenager, being different is the last thing you want to be. I already felt different enough, my home life was relatively unconventional, we didn't have much money, I liked to go out with much older guys which basically meant I was a slut in the eyes of people in my school... so being Bi as well would have been the end of my life in many ways. I'd definitely got turned on by women in porn before and had often found myself looking at gorgeous women both on the TV and in real life. A tight short skirt or a pair of little denim shorts were always something that got me excited. I rarely thought much about it though. Partly I think, cos I was still enjoying guys so much. But as time went on I increasingly found myself thinking about her, and I started to wonder whether she was seeing me in the same light.

In the showers our conversations became exclusively filthy over the following weeks. She almost never spoke about anything other than porn, toys, masturbation or sex and I found myself relaxing into the conversations more and more, opening up about my own experiences, my fantasies... asking her questions that I hadn't asked anyone before. She was so happy to talk about things and on more than one occasion would offer to show me or help me, laughing as if it was a joke but the look on her face suggested it was anything but. I'll be honest, on more than one occasion I made myself cum when I was alone thinking about what might possibly, one day happen during one of those conversations. And I even pretended to a guy I picked up that she was my girlfriend, showing home couple of pictures of her on my phone and turning both of us on telling him about the sexual exploits we got up to (in my mind at least). But that is where the action stayed, in my mind.

Amanda was turning 43, was having a party that weekend and invited me. She had hired out a room above a pub and inviting about 50 people and asked if I wanted to come. Obviously she knew that I wasn't quite 18 but I looked old enough (especially with the help of my fake id) so I willingly accepted. It was a “tarts and vicars” party and, not having any ecclesiastical robes, I made the fairly obvious choice to go as a tart!

I’d been trying to decide what to wear for a couple of days. I’d invited one of my friends, Helen, along and, over a few drinks in her room the night before the party, we decided that we would both go as slutty school girls... a classic, if somewhat cliched, choice. We spent the next hour discussing and laughing about how to make our school uniforms from the previous year as outrageous as possible and she increasingly teased me about Amanda, that she was some predatory cougar and that it was a good thing Helen was coming along as she would be able to protect me! Still, at this point, this seemed like nothing more than a joke.

The night of the party came and, whilst drinking a couple of vodka and cokes in my room, I got dressed into an outfit that I can only imagine was quite a site! White, hold up stockings, my school skirt which was now tiny... so much so that my knickers were visible beneath it... just poking out below... a white blouse that was tied up showing my tummy and open low, no bra. But the knickers were the star of the show... I was quite into making my own designs for t-shirts and regularly made iron-on logos with our printer at home. So, onto my tight, white cotton panties with pink lace trim I ironed a pair of lips on the front and “Happy Birthday Amanda xxx” on the bum! It was an idea that Helen had come up with and we thought it was hilarious! I must say, it looked good and, with my dark hair in pig tails, some dark eye make up and pale lipstick, I felt I looked the part. At that point Helen phoned to say she’d been sick all day and couldn’t come... so it was just me!

To be continued...

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Let me know what you think of this story so far. It's the first proper experience I have written about in this way and I feel a little vulnerable and exposed writing about it, so please be kind. Part 2 will be posted shortly. Like I said, it all happened, but I have changed the names.

Take care,