All the Young Girls Love Laura Pt. 01

Finally though, our skin rosy red and fresh scrubbed, we filled the tub with scented bathwater and lit about a dozen candles to set around us, then cracked open a bottle of sparkling wine from their wine rack.

"Laura, I love how pleasant you are about my little quirks. You're the best, and the most beautiful lover I've ever had. When are you going to run off with me?"

"You're not about to leave your husband," I said. "Besides, what would all the other women in this town do if I left?"

"We could chain my husband in the basement," she offered. "I don't want to share you, though. Let the others go fuck themselves."

I laughed. "I'm pinning my business future on the hope that all the frustrated women in this town continue to be jealous of each other getting to date me." She smiled ruefully.

"I don't think I'll ever find another woman like you, Laura," she said softly, kissing me, our naked bodies also wetly kissing in the fragrant water. "I pray that you never find someone who'll take you away from me."

"That doesn't seem likely," I whispered back. "I like living well too much."

We spent the next fifteen minutes or so lounging together and getting pruney, then adjourned to her bed, where we made love for hours. I was pleased that she had regained at least a pleasant floral scent about her, though I was a little sad that in cleaning up we had temporarily lost our normal feminine scent. Still, licking a lily scented wet pussy and a very, very clean woman's asshole, after sucking on her pink nipples, then lying in her arms dozing off, is a nice way to spend an early evening.

Later, she fixed me dinner and we dined, then I left. Knowing Sharon, she would unashamedly order their maid to clean up the absolute disaster we had left in the bathroom, then give her a generous tip to make her shut up about it.

Chapter 4

"Hi, Melissa," I said. "Come on in."

It was unusual for me to feel nervous with a client, but Melissa wasn't just any client. Her mother had hired me to teach her daughter, a soon-to-be bride, about female sensuality, and how to achieve orgasm.

"Nobody ever taught me, and I wasted my life not even experiencing one," she had said. "You're the only stranger I can think of who could do it, so that it's taught correctly and no one else in the family finds out. If a lesbian prostitute can't teach her, I don't know who could."

I winced at the mother's use of the word 'prostitute,' but a job is a job, and the client is always right, one way or another.

Except that a job isn't always a job. Sometimes it's pure pleasure, sometimes it's drudgery, and sometimes it's both torture and a challenge to one's ethics. You see, I found myself falling in love with 18 year old Melissa the first time I met her, at a brief 'getting to know you' chat at a coffee shop.

Had I met her on the street, and she was unattached, I'd have no qualms whatsoever about trying to gain her affections, and showing her the absolute pleasure of womanly love. But I was hired to essentially make her honeymoon and marriage to some guy a success. A lot of conflict there, you see?

"Would you like some wine?" I asked. "It makes the whole thing easier - the learning, I mean.

She smiled - an ethereal smile. "A little bit, sure," she said.

I poured us both some chablis. "A lot of times women have trouble enjoying sex because they're too worried - about how they look, how the smell, if they're doing the right thing - I think it's because basically women are in charge of the world. Everything that happens has the women - often, the mother - having to make sure that the right things happen."

"Think about how often your mother has to remind your dad - or even you - of some family thing. It's what we do. And it's hard to give up that awesome responsibility. But in order to fully enjoy the physical aspects of lovemaking, you have to put yourself in someone else's hands, and trust. In your case, your husband-to-be." I felt like a professor lecturing about love and sex. I knew all about sex, but I wasn't really sure if I was the right person to be talking about love.

"And in your case?" she asked, with a slight smile.

I laughed. "I tried guys a couple of times...I'd rather trust girls." I hastened to add, "But obviously that's not true for everyone." She grinned.

"Okay, let's say that's true. How do I just forget my 'awesome responsibilities' and let myself go?"

I wondered if she was mocking my slightly pompous speech, but forged ahead.

"Well, it's a learned skill, but two simple aids are booze and yoga. Or weed, but I don't recommend anything harder." Her eyebrows raised, but she remained silent.

"The booze part you probably get - alcohol, or weed, lowers your inhibitions and relaxes your mind," I said. "Chemicals helping you to forget why you should be up tight."

"Yoga helps you to relax your body, by consciously relaxing each part of your self, you can drain away the stress, adrenaline, whatever, that make you stiffen at someone's touch and their invasion of your personal space."

"Keep in mind that I'm not a therapist per se, and this is only my own self-derived, half assed philosophy, but I use it with every new client, myself."

"Are you nervous with me?" she asked, eyes widening. "I mean, I am, but you're the seasoned professional. No offense."

I laughed. "My experience tells me what steps will work best, but it doesn't help me to walk around and be relaxed with strangers," I said. "It's normal to be stressed by new people, new situations."

"I think I'll have some more wine then," she said, finishing her half glass and holding it up to me across the table. "At least right now I'm relaxed enough to admit I'm nervous."

I laughed. "That's the spirit." I took her glass, her fingers touching mine, the contact warm and pleasant. Impulsively I stroked two fingers along the inside of her arm by the wrist. "I think alcohol helps to elevate your nerve ending receptivity, too," and turned to walk to the kitchen.

I glanced back to see her looking at her arm, lost in thought.

Whether it was the wine, my impulsive action or just her open and friendly nature, the chat quickly became more intimate.

No, not sex - god, I would have given anything for that - but even 'prostitutes', or rather 'companions,' have some ethics. Small and well hidden...but some. I started with touch.

"There's not much that most women want more deeply than touch. A warm, caring, loving touch can be even more mind bending than an orgasm. For example, even women that absolutely know that I will absolutely assist to an orgasm, if given a choice, will choose a foot rub or back rub first," I said.

"Let me show you non-erogenous touches that I think you'll like, a lot. If your husband wants to satisfy you, one or more of these should be on the menu."

"Ooh, I'd like that," she grinned. "I can never get anyone to just touch me. Adam always wants to fuck." It was the first time she used that word to me and I felt conflicted. I had assumed that she was virginal, but evidently not. But it excited me to think of her naked, in the throes of passion.

"Maybe while I'm touching you, should tell me about your sexual experiences so far," I suggested. She hesitated, and then took a deep breath.

"Wow...kind of like a confession."

"No, just tell me whatever you like. It's all helpful," I said.

"Well...Adam has, um, touched me...under my clothes, but we haven't had, you know, sex and I haven't touched...his thing."

"His penis, you mean," I said.

"Yes. I did see it...he showed it to me when he was trying to convince me to have sex, but I didn't want to. Later, I thought that maybe I should have."

"It's true that a lot of girls have had sex by 18, but that doesn't make you odd or unusual. And if you learn how to be satisfied before you begin, you're likely to get a lot more out of it than if you're just trying to please your man."

"I was home schooled," Melissa said shyly. "Mom said that she didn't trust what public schools did to character in so many girls, and that she wanted me to turn out right." She paused. "I didn't experiment with boys - or girls, for that matter - like some other girls have." She sounded almost wistful.

I continued. "So, when Adam touched you, how did that feel?"

"It felt okay," she said. "But he was kind of rough and seemed rushed. It felt like he should go a lot slower and take more time, but he was all over me like he couldn't decide where to be."

I laughed. "Yeah, it seems like guys want it all, all at once. Breasts, pussy, ass...they can't get enough but they don't know what to do with it once they get there. But most women want to take it slow, and for their partner to be gentle."

I looked at her intently. "Did he touch your vulva- your labia, your slit or your clit?'

She looked annoyed and I thought that I'd overstepped my bounds.

Then she said, "Yes, and he kept trying to jam his finger inside me. It hurt."

I nodded, and didn't say anything, but looked sympathetic.

"Well, let's get to training you in desirable touches, then. Let me remove your sandals and take your left foot in my lap."

"Oh, I can-" she began.

"The first step...relax. Let your lover- your husband - do the work. Let go, right?" I gently lifted her foot into my lap between my thighs, and unbuckled her sandals. Her feet were smooth, clean and very pretty. Why was I not surprised? She sighed, and reclined back in her chair.

"That does feel nice," she said.

"Just close your eyes, and think about all the stress in your thigh, and your calf, and your foot, running out through your toes, leaving them limp and relaxed, no tension, muscles slack and at peace," I crooned in a soothing voice. I could feel her doing that, her muscles becoming less resistant to my pressure, and it pleased me. So many women have trouble giving up control, even briefly.

"You can see that you're lying on a comfortable lounge chair in a field of bright flowers, colorful butterflies around you, soft sounds of nature surrounding you, perfectly at peace..."

I continued with descriptions of the peaceful scene around her, as I began massaging her foot, kneading muscles lightly at first, tracing along her muscles with increasing pressure and avoiding the ticklish spots that most people have on their feet.

Tickling is a great segue from massage to sex, but only between intimate partners, not between me and her, sadly.

She moaned, and then whispered, "Oh my god...that is fantastic." Her eyes fluttered open. "Laura...I..."

"Shh," I whispered. "Relax. You can tell me later after you've absorbed this lesson."

I continued gently massaging her foot, but slowly moved my focus up to her ankle, caressing and touching her there, her joint loose and pliable, which meant that she was doing a good job of staying relaxed. Often a woman will tense up at a pleasurable touch - I suspect it's because we sometimes think that we don't deserve it - but we do.

The massage-caress-touch continued up to her calf, then her knee and finally to her lower thigh. If I had any intention of seducing her, or if we were both already agreeable to sex, of course the lesson would go farther, but that wasn't the agreement.

She was very open to my touching her lower thigh, after I explained that was my intention, and when it concluded there she expressed some disappointment that I wouldn't continue.

"That was the most wonderful feeling I've ever experienced," Melissa said. "I wish you could do that all night long."

I smiled. "Well, when you teach it to Adam, you probably can persuade him to do it a lot longer. You're going to have to rein in his male impulsiveness to just fuck, though."

She looked thoughtful. "That might be hard, with him," she said. Then she brightened.

"What's next?" she asked.

"Mmm, next is your upper body touching. It's non-sexual, but so, so good."

"I'm in your hands," she said. I giggled, and then she did too.

"Duh," she laughed.

"You need to take off your blouse, but you can keep your bra on," I said.

Her face turned red. "I'm not wearing a bra," she said.

"Well, that doesn't matter, unless it matters to you. I won't be touching you there."

"Okay then, I guess it's okay," she said, a little timorously. She could see that I hadn't included 'I won't be seeing you.'

I thought to myself, "Shit is getting real for Melissa now." Still, I really didn't have any intention of touching her breasts, so she really didn't need to be particularly concerned. I could imagine the film clip running in her head, though - Melissa and Her Topless Adventure With A Lesbian.

I sighed. "I can try to touch you through your blouse, if you like," I said. I didn't have spare bras lying around and they wouldn't fit her anyway - she was slimmer than me, but with bigger breasts. And no woman would want to wear another woman's bra anyway - even my wild client Sharon would probably think that was yucky.

"No, really, it's okay," she repeated. "I'll just turn my back when I unbutton my blouse, okay?"

"Works for me," I said.

I arranged the chairs so that I'd be sitting behind her while she sat on the ottoman facing away from me. "Okay, unbutton your blouse and take it off," I said. She did, chatting nervously the whole time. After she had it off, I looked at her back, flawless and creamy - she wasn't a big sun worshipper.

I put my fingertips gently on her biceps, but even then she jumped, clearly anxious.

"Okay, remember relaxation," I said soothingly. "Close your eyes, you're alone with your lover in a fragrant, pretty meadow..." and continued in that vein until I could see her shoulders slump a little. "Now, I'm going to touch you lightly on your shoulders, then on your arms and finally, on your back, okay?" She nodded dreamily.

I began tracing my fingernails lightly down the back of her neck and across her shoulders in an outward direction, careful not to break the plane that differentiated her front from her back. I would be touching her front, eventually, but that had to be worked up to. Stroking lightly, then caressing with my fingertips, always outward from her central core, then very, very gradually repeating the fingernail-fingertips touching as I slowly worked my way down her back, using either side of her spine as my starting point.

She groaned loudly at several points as I worked my way down, her sensory ecstasy building up and overflowing in her, causing her to verbalize her feelings. "God, Laura, that feels so wonderful," she gushed several times. I whispered soothingly to her throughout, anxious not to disrupt her mood or distract her with the fact that it was another woman bringing her such pleasure. The idea was that she and her husband would evolve this technique to bring each other pleasure.

I couldn't complain, as I adore using touch on another woman's back, but the temptation to reach around and caress her breasts and kiss her neck was nearly overwhelming to me. She shivered several times as I continued, moaning lightly.

"It's nearly orgasmic," I whispered under my breath, almost hoping that she'd hear me, but she gave no outward sign.

She shivered again and turned her head and said, "You can do that forever, if you like." I laughed, but found myself tongue tied. What could I say? "Yes, I'd love to do this forever, and sweep you up in my arms and kiss you and love you forever?"

Instead, I sighed and said, "I'm sorry, I know that you really are enjoying this, but I have more to show you."

She sighed too, and covering her breasts with her hands, looked at me and said jokingly, "Must you?" I simply shrugged.

"You can put your blouse back on while I go into the kitchen for some more wine," I said. When I returned with two glasses of chablis, she was redressed. I handed her one.

"Thank you...and that was amazing," she said. "You were right about relaxing and about your massages. I feel like a limp dishrag."

"Probably the wine has something to do with it, too. I should have had some cheese and crackers or something for you. Maybe next time..."

"Oh, let me bring something, they say I'm a pretty good cook. I can come up with some crudités we might like."

"That would be terrific. My social and cooking skills end at a box of Ritz crackers and a can of Cheez-Whiz." She laughed and impulsively kissed my cheek. Her face lingered near mine, her eyes smoky on mine.

"So...what's next?' she asked.

"Just one more, and I have to warn you, it is a little more sexual than the first two. And so you know, further lessons will be increasingly sexual - things that your husband really needs to know to be a really good husband to his wife." I looked at her seriously.

"If you're still nervous about this, or have misgivings and decide to stop, I'll understand, and no hard feelings."

"Thank you," she said. "All I can say right now is go ahead. I don't know how I'll feel about the next step, or the one after that, but all I can do is tell you that I'll be honest with you, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, grinning like an idiot.

"The last lesson today is kissing. I'm going to pretend to be, er, Adam, and show you the best ways that he can kiss you for ultimate satisfaction." I looked at her, and she nodded.

I sat next to her and began telling her about my day, oh, three weeks before, when I went to our local zoo. I had a real conversation with her about something that I knew she was interested in, and I looked her in the eye - of course, I looked away, and blinked too, I'm not creepy - and just basically built a little world where she and I shared information with each other. We talked, we communicated, we shared.

She knew then that I like koalas, because of their cute fat noses, and the way they swing around the trees and eat the eucalyptus leaves. She agreed, and asked if I'd seen the mountain goats, and the baby goat that was born just a month before, and did I love the way it hops around? And I said I did, and we kissed, tentatively at first, but as our lips became aware, and our bodies became aware, and our minds relaxed into the familiarity of the other, then we kissed, our lips warm and soft on each other, her breath hot where it touched my cheek, her neck smooth where my fingertips floated over her, her hands, at first flat on my shoulders as though gripping my collarbone, sliding up to hold my head steady against hers.

Our tongues were shy at first. Sharing bodily fluids is not easy for most people, even with someone they know. With a stranger, much more awkward. But our tongues quickly became friends, and yes, we each felt saliva dripping from one to the other, and we were happy and content at that, the slickness of tongue against tongue, and gum, and occasionally teeth welcome and comfortable for us both.

Her body, initially stiff, completely relaxed into me, warm and soft breasts against mine, warm hip to mine. The feel of her heartbeat in every part I touched, as I know she felt with me. Soft sounds from her, happy and excited, echoing my own. And the fragrance of her body - god, her wonderful scent of perfume and perspiration and animal musk and heat and moisture...and I knew then, that I had gone too far.

She really was feeling everything that I thought she should feel with her husband...with me, there on my couch. If I was going to be ethical at least once in my life, if I was to retain a shred of self respect, I'd have to stop things before they got out of hand. Straight girls are too easily shown the pleasure of another woman, and while I'm all for that most of the time, not when she trusted me to keep her safe. If she wanted something different after thinking about it - her choice, but I wasn't going to seduce Melissa. Not her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her arms already too intimately and familiarly hanging on my shoulder.