Myra lent over and passed me a note. I glimpsed her cleavage through the gap between the buttons on her too-tight school shirt as she leaned towards me. She had an annoyed look on her face. Frowning, I opened the folded piece of paper. It read “It fucking sucks being gay in a small town, because no one else is gay, so there’s no one to have sex with!”. I knew this was directed at me, at my sexuality; a lesbian call to arms. I wasn’t going to rise to it. I crumpled the note in my hand and pointedly stared forward, listening to the history teacher talk of revolution.

I was 18, in the final year of school and I had fallen in love for the first time. Myra was angry that it wasn’t with her. I was completely infatuated by the girl I had fallen in love with. Every time I caught her scent I felt my cunt get wet; waves of sexual arousal spreading from my lower abdomen. We’d only made out a few times, at parties, hidden away in bathrooms or behind walls. Her kisses were the most amazing sensation I’d ever felt; warm and passionate. She had released moans of arousal when I kissed her deeply, her body pressed up against the wall by mine, soft breasts against mine. It hadn’t gone further, but in my mind the fantasies raced. I imagined how her cunt would taste. I pictured her smooth white breasts, pink nipples hard, as I imagined licking them and kissing down her body, breathing in that intoxicating sweet scent. I imagined spreading open her milky thighs, and gently stroking over her soft stomach, as I began slowly licking her went cunt. I imagined her moaning in pleasure and stroking my hair as I worked my tongue into her cunt, slowly licking upwards until I am gently sucking her clit. Then I would insert two fingers deep into her hot, wet, pulsating cunt, massaging her G-spot as I continued to lick and suck on her clit. In my mind’s eye I watched her orgasm, her body convoluting as she let out a long moan of pleasure.

“Hey!” Myra said loudly, snapping me out of my fantasy world, “Hey, what’s up? Class is over. Fancy coming over to watch a movie with me tonight?”. “Sure, Myra, thanks. See you later”. I got up, annoyed at being brought crashing back to reality, and stormed out the room.

It wasn’t Myra’s fault. I was frustrated because I knew my sexual fantasies’ would stay just that; fantasies. The object of my affections had spoken to me seriously and earnestly, wide-eyed whispering that she didn’t want to be gay, that she couldn’t possibly be a lesbian, that she must only like me as a friend. Our physical intimacy had been brought to a screeching halt, but my heart and my body hadn’t quite caught up to the reality yet. I wanted to savour the possibility that I’d be granted permission to touch her beautiful body, and to love her fully. She still smiled at me in that special way, as if we shared a secret, as if I was the most important thing to her.

I arrived at Myra’s flat late, a bottle of vodka in my hand and a stormy expression on my face. I slumped down heavily on her sofa as she fetched glasses and ice. She didn’t ask what was wrong with me and I didn’t offer to tell. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Myra was two years older than me. She’d left school at 16, escaping from an abusive household. She didn’t like to talk about it. But now she was back in school with a flat of her own and a job waiting tables. She exhaled loudly, a cloud of smoke swirling around her face. “I fancy some classic Tarantino tonight, what do you say to Pulp fiction?” she said. I shrugged and took a long drink. She put it on and topped up my glass with vodka.

Myra was getting me drunk. I knew she was doing it, but I was angry and frustrated and I wanted the sweet release intoxication brings. So I kept drinking, as she refilled my glass again and again. Eyes determinedly on the TV screen, she inched closer towards me. First she let her thigh rest on mine, warm pressure against my leg, put there so casually, as if by accident. She was testing the waters, seeing if I would move away. But I didn’t, I let it rest there and took another long drink of the cold, harsh spirit. Next, it was her hand on my thigh, this time deliberately put there; a challenge. Her eyes still glued to the TV, she gently stroked the bare skin above my knee, just below where my skirt ended. I didn’t move. She became more daring and began to move her hand higher, pushing under the tight material of my skirt, exposing my upper thigh.

My head fuzzy from the alcohol, I relaxed into pleasure, enjoying the sensation of Myra’s long fingernails tracing along my inner thigh. I opened my legs, inviting her to continue what she had started. She stopped and looked at me for the first time, examining my face for signs of emotion. I remained expressionless under her scrutiny, slumped low on the sofa, my knees wide open, drink still in my hand resting on the arm of the sofa. Myra slowly moved on to the floor, kneeling between my spread legs. She began to kiss my leg. Starting at my knee with small, cautious kisses, she gradually moved up towards my crotch, stroking my other leg with her hand. Her kisses became more sensual as she licked and sucked at the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

I felt myself growing wet, the warm sensation of arousal spreading from my crotch throughout my body. I reclined a little more, forcing my cunt a little closer to her face. She spread my legs wide, my skirt hitched right up around my waist, and licked my inner thigh. I felt warmth spread though my labia as she put her mouth on my black lace underwear, licking me through the soft material. I let out a moan of pleasure as she scraped her teeth lightly over the lace that covered my clit. I grabbed a fistful of her long, silky, black hair and pushed my clit into her face. She reached a hand up and slid the lace of my underwear to one side, exposing my vulva. She worked a finger between my labia, slick with arousal, and plunged into my wet, hot cunt. I gasped in pleasure, passion taking over my body, I pushed her head towards me again. She latched on to my clit, enthusiastically licking and sucking me as I let out moans of sexual joy. I began grinding my hips against her face, riding the waves of pleasure that had taken over my body, letting them build up and up, still holding her head firmly in place as if she were just a toy for my pleasure. The intensity grew, every nerve ending on edge. I moved faster and she sucked me harder in response, my hot cunt gripping the finger that was still inside me, pulsing out waves of pleasure. Her mouth felt hotter than ever before, the wetness of her tongue mixing with the wetness of my cunt as I pulled her hair, hard, exploding into orgasm with a deep, long moan, still grinding my cunt into her face.

Panting, I released her head, waves of after-glow pleasure flooding my body. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and looked up at me expectantly. I closed my legs and sat up, straightening my skirt and taking yet another sip of iced vodka. She got up and sat next to me on the sofa. I put my arm around her shoulders and she snuggled up to me, head resting on my shoulder, a faint smile on her lips.