The brunette guard turned back to me, and for a moment her hand explored my pussy, slipping a finger into me for an inch or so. I gave a sigh of pleasure and tried to spread my legs further apart for her, responses which she noted with an approving smile. She told me that what she intended to do to me would get too noisy for here, and so the blonde and I smoothed down our clothes and followed her across the shop floor, into the lift, and down to the security office in the basement. This was quite a bare room, with two desks and a couple of chairs, some lockers against one wall and, along the other, the most useful thing of all – a sturdy camp bed covered with a large grey blanket.

It became apparent that the blonde woman was not only the security guard’s lover and live-in partner, but her work colleague as well – in fact, she was the undercover plain-clothes store detective. No wonder that she had the time to cruise the various departments, making casual soundings of the attractive women or pretty teens who she encountered. It was their practice, when either of them spotted someone who they thought might be receptive, for the blonde to start the opening moves whilst the uniformed guard watched through the security cameras. If the blonde could persuade her prey to come into the fitting room, the guard allowed five minutes for things to get hot and then staged the ‘discovery’.

‘Nearly all of the lesbians in this town pass through our hands, at some point or other,’ said the uniformed guard with evident satisfaction. ‘After all,’ she continued, ‘most women shop here at least sometimes, and we are pretty good at picking out the vibes from the lezzies, whether they’re fourteen or forty – it’s just something in the way they are looking at the other women, checking them out.’

‘It’s true’, affirmed the sexy blonde, ‘especially if you watch how they look at a pretty young chick, or someone with a short skirt or a lot of cleavage showing. I mean, straight women will look too, of course, it’s instinctive to take note of the competition, but us lesbos have a different kind of interest, another way of doing it, with just a special sort of glance – and we are experts at spotting that!’

They explained that, as a result, they were at the centre of a wide lesbian network, having roles varying from match-makers to party organisers. In particular – and my interest in this was obvious – they could put young teens in contact with experienced mature women who had a place where both could enjoy mutual pleasure, the older woman tutoring the young girl in the lesbian arts. This sounded good, so good – and it had all been here, been going on under my nose, and I never knew it before!

I asked tentatively whether there was any danger of their activities being found out by the store manager. The uniformed guard replied with a derisive laugh:

‘That dyke bitch? No way – she has a thing for young black chicks, and the deal is that if we get one of them, we break her in and then pass her pussy upstairs to the boss. That keeps her happy – and her mouth full of black cunt, just the way she likes it!’

‘In fact’, added her blonde lover, eyeing my school uniform, ‘the last black bitch to drop her panties for us was wearing the same uniform you are – I’ll bet you know her, she was hot stuff.’ I gasped in wet arousal at the prospect that any of the girls at my school, black or white, was an active promiscuous lesbian.

The uniformed guard took up her stance, leaning back against one of the desks, her hips resting against its edge and her feet about a yard apart. The blonde woman gestured me to kneel in front of her lover, and I hastened to comply – for it heralded another first, one in many ways I was looking forward to most: my first turn at making love to another woman, my first taste of female cunt. As I assumed my position, the blonde slowly pulled up the other woman’s uniform skirt, like the lifting of the curtain at the theatre for act one of the play. There came into view a stunning sight, for the brunette had a traditional taste in underwear: her old-fashioned stockings were held up by straps from a lovely garter belt in a soft lilac colour, with matching panties that were decorated with sections of black lace. With a sense of wonder, I slipped a finger inside the waistband of her panties at each side, and felt a luxuriant thrill as I slowly drew them down her legs. This revealed to my delighted gaze her protruding and completely shaven pudenda, glistening along its central slit with a sheen of wetness.

The security guard took over the duty of holding up her skirt, as the blonde woman transferred her attention to her partner’s uniform shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it back to hang from the shoulders. This revealed the bra that completed her lingerie set, its lilac side panels and cups decorated with black polka-dots, and with the top half of the cups made of the black lace. She had firm breasts, medium-sized but probably at least one cup size larger than those of her blonde companion. The latter began to caress these with one hand, whilst with the other she gave an encouraging push on the back of my head, impelling my mouth forward onto her lover’s pussy, and avidly watching everything that I did.

I tried to remember how the blonde had serviced me, and did my best to emulate it – an effort which turned out to be pretty good, from both the noises and physical reactions which followed. When I found what I was sure must be the nub of the woman’s clit with my mouth, I sucked and licked it as firmly as possible, and pushed my index finger deep into the vaginal hole, savouring its warm and wet muscular strength. After I had pulled this in and out a dozen or so times, at increasing tempo, she suddenly shouted: ‘Oh, fuck – I’m coming, I’m coming! – yeah, now baby, fuck me now!’ I was electrified, and gasped as her hips juddered violently and sweet juices ran out of her pussy all over my face and hand. 

I felt wonderful – I had made a woman orgasm, and had enjoyed it so much I thought that I had probably come myself when she did.

Finally, they gave me the last step in my initiation into fully-fledged lesbianism – my first ever full penetrations by another woman. The guard removed her skirt and shirt, remaining a true vision of female dominance in her boots, stockings, garter belt and bra, whilst her blonde companion stripped down to just her hold-ups and bra. From one of the lockers, the guard produced matching strap-on dildos, and they each fastened one into place. My eyes bulged at the sight: I did feel a moment of anxiety, but nothing was going to stop me now. I shed everything except my white knee socks and lay down on the camp bed, legs spread open. The guard knelt between my thighs, and with a firm forward push inserted her dildo into my pussy, whilst her lover offered her plastic rod to my mouth, and I sucked on it as the brunette began shafting me in the missionary position. I was too inexperienced to be able to hold back my orgasm for long, and within a minute or so my back arched, I thrust my hips into the air, my fists beat on the side of the bed, and I gave an ululating cry of ecstasy.

It had been amazing and wonderful, but I found that the next stage was even more to my taste. After the brunette pulled out of me, her blonde companion got me to roll over onto my hands and knees, my ass thrust up and out at her. She scratched my back for a moment (very sensuous, let me recommend it), reached under to squeeze my tits again, and then the next thing that I felt was the tip of her strap-on nudging between my gaping labial lips. The blonde took a firm grip at my waist, and with a smooth thrust slid the plastic phallus deep into my well-lubricated hole. The arousal and eroticism was indescribable, and in this way I discovered my favourite sex position. I squealed with pleasure, and my begging encouragements for her to be harder, faster and deeper produced the requested result. I felt almost as if I was on the end of a battering ram, and my breaths became strangled gasps and shudders as I was bowled along into the biggest, best, most bone-shaking orgasm of them all.

After it, I was weak and exhausted, but deliriously happy. As I lay on the camp bed between them, my body receiving their gentle fluttering kisses and caresses, my thoughts returned to the tale of the black girl from my school who had eagerly responded to their advances – and who, I suddenly realised, had also been taken by the same strap-ons that had just been shafting my own pussy. I wheedled more details from them, until suddenly the blonde detective recalled that she had kept some of the security camera film from that day (which had been about four weeks ago). She put it in the video player, and my knees buckled with surprise when I saw who it showed. I recognised her at once, of course, with mingled shock and instant blazing lust, for she was indeed gorgeous and beautiful. Miranda was none other than Deputy Head Girl of the school, someone I had always thought of as a swot and a complete goody-goody. She was openly very Christian and moral, although as her father was an evangelical preacher, maybe she didn’t have much option there – in fact, I mused, watching Miranda’s eager response to the blonde woman, as she hurried with her into the fitting room, maybe her surface appearance was all just an act, maybe she was just like me, a lesbo slut gagging for pussy.

I thanked them both profoundly – for giving me my first lesbian experiences in such a fantastic and complete way, and for the information about the full-breasted black babe. Even if she was regularly spreading for the store manager, there must be plenty of other times when she was on her own, and perhaps she would be keen to have a girlfriend who shared her tastes – and who tasted her. I tottered from the building, sore and a bit bruised between the legs, but wonderfully fulfilled and transported with excitement at the prospects so suddenly opening up ahead of me.

Before I left, the blonde woman gave me her mobile phone number and said to call them if I wanted more; if I did, they would give me directions to their house, where I could come and be fucked all day on Sunday; I could also then arrange to be put in touch with some other women. I walked out into the street, stopped under the awning at the shop’s front, and rang the number immediately. The blonde woman answered, and laughed when she realised who it was.

‘Tell me now, please, and I’ll be there’, I said, ‘I just can’t wait!’

And I couldn’t, not only for Sunday but also for the very next day ... never had I been so impatient to get to school before, where I was longing for a quiet word with our stunning, curvaceous and – it would seem – lesbian Deputy Head Girl.