It was quiet in the office without Sandra. She was my business partner and we had been working together for two years, ever since shaking hands on the arrangement to combine our talents in an advertising agency, she as graphic designer and I as copywriter. We enjoyed our working life and had had the good side of each other without the mundane reality of domestic life. Sure, we had business matters to deal with, but we agreed on most things and the work side of it ran quite smoothly.

We had a small suite of offices in an old building, one room for Sandra and one for me, and we worked mainly in hers, while mine was for writing and sitting around in. We had a pair of comfortable chairs and could sit and watch the world go by or peer into the open-air café opposite from our elevated perch, two floors up, without being observed.

Now she was away for week for an operation about which she declined to give me the full details, saying only that it wasn’t gynaecological but was embarrassing. I hadn’t pressed her on it. We were close, but not that close and if she wanted some privacy in the matter, that was fine with me.

While design was her department and no one else would be filling in for her in the short term, there was mundane stuff to be done that involved design software but no real thinking, and I knew better than to dabble in it, because these things can seem simple but take up all your time if you didn’t know what you’re doing. Sandra had a niece, Jessica, who worked as what is known as a Mac operator, i.e. a designer without the creativity, so she was going to be helping me out.

Jessica was tall and thin; not just slim but thin, whether viewed from front or side. She was narrow. Oddly, though, she did have discernible breasts and dressed to accentuate them, with tight tops. She had long, straight, brown hair and a pretty enough face.

I had met her just once, for twenty minutes when Sandra brought her in for me to check for suitability and to show her the computers. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, so our range of conversation was not going to be wide, but she was pleasant and very grateful to have a little bit of work from us.

On Monday she appeared, ten minutes late, with a story about bad traffic, and I put her to work typing something that I would go into later to edit. At lunchtime she made no move to go out, but sat in one of the comfortable chairs with her legs crossed, looking at me. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I looked at her and she stared back. Something told me I should relax and go with the flow, so I locked the door and sat on the other chair. She said nothing, but looked at me nervously.

“Have you got a boyfriend?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, slightly insulted. She was looking at me intermittently, unable to help herself. On impulse, I stood up and knelt in front of her. She smiled nervously but leaned a fraction forward. I took her in my arms and kissed her, and she kissed me back with abandon, her hands all over my back.

“My boyfriend has never kissed me like that,” she said. Then she followed it with “And that’s not all. He’s never licked me either.” She blushed, seeming surprised that the words had come out like that. “He likes me to do it to him, though.”

“Oral?”

“Yeah.”

“Take your jeans off,” I said, and she stood up immediately and slid them to the carpet, then stepped out of them. Her lilac knickers were in my face. I kissed her mound and pulled them down. She was shaven smooth: completely, painstakingly smooth, almost shiny.

“Sit down,” I said, and she did, right back in the chair. I pulled her knees apart and she looked away, then back to see if I was looking at her pussy, which I was. I pulled her forwards so she slipped almost horizontally and her crotch was exposed to me. I licked her lips and she shivered. I parted them with my thumbs and she gasped as my tongue entered her moist zone.

“Am I okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Beautiful,” I said. “Perfect.”

I licked Jessica’s pussy, which was clean and oily with the strong scent of a young woman. She spread her legs as far as they would go and I poked my tongue right into her. I sucked her clitoris and she wriggled and made happy noises. I chewed it and she gave a whimper.

Then came a knock on the door. We froze. I certainly wasn’t going to answer it, but nor were we going to give whoever it was an audible sex treat.

I stood Jessica up and pulled her knickers back up, wiping my face on them. She pulled her jeans on and we stood face to face. As we heard footsteps going down the stairs, we kissed again. She was clearly interested in the smell of her juice on my face.

“Sorry,” I said. “That shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t worry,” she replied.

The afternoon went by without incident and she went off happily to get her scooter and go home. I didn’t know if I would see her the next day.

At nine o’clock on Tuesday, the door opened and Jessica walked in. She was wearing a long, full skirt and with her was a very tall middle-aged man.

“Vic,” she said seriously. “This is my Dad.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” the man said. “It’s her first proper job and I wanted to see what she’s getting up to.”

“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound relieved. “Jessica, show him where you work.” She took him into Sandra’s room and they spent a couple of minutes before coming back through.

“Nice to meet you,” the man said, shaking my hand. “I hope she’s no trouble.” Jessica slapped him on the arm and I showed him to the door, where he trotted jauntily down the stairs, happy that his daughter was usefully employed.

When I got back into my office Jessica was already typing, so I got on with what I was doing. It was only later, when she came through to make some coffee, that I realised the sensible skirt had been replaced by a very short tartan number.

“You going out at lunchtime?” she asked.

“No. You?”

“No. shall I come through?’

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual.

At 12:30 she knocked on my door and waited for me to tell her to come in.

“You don’t have to knock unless I’m with somebody,” I assured her, touching her arm. I went to the toilet and washed my cock, just in case. When I got back in the room, Jessica was not just naked but kneeling, sitting on her legs. This girl was not short of confidence, or perhaps driven to overdrive by desire. She looked up at me as I approached. She obviously, I thought, wanted to suck me, so I stood in front of her and pulled my jeans and underpants down. She took my cock in her hand and said,

“Mmm, clean. You’re very good.”

She took me into her mouth and sucked me gently and carefully, then licked the length and kissed my balls and my crotch.

“You want to do something naughty?” she asked. Without answering, I took my knob in my hand and wanked. She continued kissing and licking my balls. I couldn’t get over how calm she was about all this, but I concluded that she would let me cum in her mouth, so I wanked faster and when it was about to happen, I pushed my knob into her mouth and ejaculated my semen. She accepted it gratefully and without appearing to swallow, she took it down her throat.

Again, there was a knock on the door so we stayed in position and she sucked the last traces of spunk from my grateful dick. When the footsteps went back down, she calmly stood up and got dressed.

“Tomorrow you can shag me,” she said as she left the room to go back to work.

I could hardly believe she said it. This was a girl – a young woman – old enough to have sex legally, yet young enough to be allowing her father to come in, meet the boss and potentially embarrass her. Maybe they were just a straight-talking family or maybe her chauvinist boyfriend had something to do with it. I had to wonder who she had told about our hot lunches. And who was the door-knocker?

The following morning I went into town and bought two big, thick sleeping bags, identical, so I could open them out and zip them together to make a rudimentary double bed. If we were going to be having a proper sex session that lasted more than a few rushed minutes, and it was going to be in my office, at least I could provide a bit of comfort and dignity – not that dignity has a great place in the sexual field, but in between bouts of depravity, people lie quietly and talk like decent human beings.

That night I had a message from Jessica. Just a heart and the word, “Excited”.

I sent back, “Me too,” and the pink cheek icon. Then I added, against my better judgement, “You’re amazing.”

“You're luvly,” she replied.

I spent the evening alone, thinking about her and wondering where this was all going. Even though I was older and (for a week)her boss, she was in charge and I got the impression she enjoyed being the leader up to the point of sex, when she quickly changed sides to become the female doing what the male wanted. So she would be on her knees, naked and willing, daring me to be outraged or overawed, and calling the shots until I took over and unceremoniously pumped my spunk into her mouth. It was a strange one.

And now we were getting romantic about it – a bit late for that, I thought. Putting the cart before the horse. Yet it worked. Maybe she was operating in the new way and I was a dinosaur who saw romance and seduction as a necessary prelude to what two people were going to do anyway.

The next lunchtime she came through and I made a show of locking the door. Today was the day I was going to be penetrating her, doing the nitty gritty, what the world called “sex’. So, what had we been doing in our two earlier exchanges? Playing? Sussing each other out? I wasn’t completely comfortable about it all. I was in the play but didn’t know how the script went later on. That’s not to say I was what is commonly called a “control freak”. I didn’t think so, anyway. But as I locked the door and looked at Jessica, the deep thoughts were flying from my urgent brain into hers.

I had already received permission. She had explicitly said, “You can shag me tomorrow.” Maybe I didn’t want that. Maybe the hunter in me wanted to be pushing her, not having her opening the gate for me. I would have to raise the jeopardy quotient, give her something to be a bit apprehensive about.

I pulled the double sleeping bag out of the cupboard and spread it on the floor.

“Get in there,” I ordered. She was wearing another tartan mini skirt, this time the Black Watch one, dark green and blue, less jaunty than the red one. More brooding, as if her vagina had moods and today’s was dark, dirty and dangerous. She slipped out of her clothes and bent over to put them on the chair, exposing herself to me, perhaps showing me she was still in charge at this point. Her shiny, neat pussy sat below a slim, shallow arse and I had seen the little brown pucker. Had she meant to show me that or was it, to her, just the next-door neighbour of the real show?

When I lay on top of Jessica we fell into a proper, loving kiss that must have lasted five minutes with no touching of genitals, just tongues and lips and eyes. I kissed her neck and raised her left arm, pinning it back while I licked her armpit. She wasn’t expecting that and gave a little grunt of surprise that was soon swamped by appreciation and the lust it made her feel.

“Shag me,” she whispered. “You won’t make me pregnant.” I looked at her intently.

“Shag me,” she repeated, deeply, tenderly. I pushed myself into her and luxuriated in the beautiful tightness, lubricated to perfection, and I felt every inch as I slid along her tunnel, deliberately going further than necessary, wanting her to feel invaded. My hands on her buttocks, I pulled her towards me and as I began to pump, I put a finger to her anus and pushed it in a little. She whimpered and looked deep into my eyes but didn’t say anything.

We made love smoothly, rhythmically, and it was making love, however much Jessica had billed it as “shagging’. When she came, it was with a trembling cry of “I’m coming. Oh God,” and I came too, flooding her with my semen. We lay together afterwards, she cradled in the crook of my arm and stroked my body. She took my limp, spent cock and said, “He’s very nice. I like him.”

“He likes you too,” I said. “You’re a lovely girl.”

“Am I just a girl?” she asked. “When do I become a woman?”

“You’re a young woman,” I said, struggling to find the right words. “You’re alive and pristine like a girl, but you make love like a woman.” She raised her head to kiss me.

“I’ve never felt like a woman before,” she said a little sadly. “Kevin just shags me as if that’s what I’m there for. He doesn’t make love to me like you do. And he doesn’t experiment. He just gets on and shags me.”

“Who do you talk to about sex?” I asked. “Your Mum?”

“Fuck, no,” she replied. “She thinks I’m still a little girl. So does my Dad. I’m eighteen and I’m still their baby.” Her eyes went misty. “I talk to Claire a bit,” she said eventually. “She’s my best friend. She wants to meet you. We’ve kind of shared boyfriends a bit in the past. We don’t get jealous of each other.” She thought for a moment before continuing. “Maybe that’s because neither of us has really found anyone we want to keep.”

“You could be right,” I said, kissing her lightly and then being sucked into round two, my cock swelling in her hand.

“Make love to me,” she whispered. “Making love can be rude, can’t it?”

“Making love can be ruder than just shagging,” I said, and the truth of that only hit me after I had said it. “When I do things with you, they’re extra exciting because you’re so real to me.”

“That’s nice,” she said with a dreamy smile. “You’re like a poet, do you know that?” I smiled softly at her. “Say something poetic,” she said encouragingly.

“Tomorrow this will come to pass: I’m going to lick your arse,” I said, surprising myself.

“Really?” she said, wide-eyed. “Do people really do that? Willingly, I mean.”

“I am going to do it to you with love,” I assured her. “It’s the dirtiest thing, but…”

“I think I know what you mean,” she said in conclusion, as her hips began to move and we resumed our love-making.

I spent the evening in the pub with some friends. The text messages Jessica and I exchanged were largely wordless. Long streams of red hearts, haloes, blushing cheeks.

“Oh, yeah, who’s that?” said Gaz, trying to look. “You at it with somebody? Oh fuck, you are, aren’t you? You like her, too.”

So, it’s Thursday, and we both know what’s on the menu for lunch.  We don’t talk much during the morning, just get on with our work. Then at 10 o’clock when I’m making a cup of tea, she walks up behind me and stands very close, her front touching my back. She puts her arms around me and lays her head against my back. Then she turns around and rubs her buttocks against mine. It’s incredibly erotic, loaded with hidden meaning and perhaps unexplainable. It’s the wild, untamed communication of two sexual souls. For all her youth and naivete, Jessica is my sexual equal. She is teaching me as much as I am teaching her.

She walks to the door and locks it, then wraps herself round me like a ballet dancer climbing a tree and kisses me with heavenly abandon and urgency.

“I can’t wait,” she says breathily. “Sorry, I…” We look deep into each other’s eyes, then I drop to my knees and pull her knickers down. She steps out of them and turns around.

“Kneel down,” I say firmly, and she gets on her hands and knees, flipping the little skirt up onto her back, but it’s so short if falls down again. She unzips it and slips it off, then kneels again, her pristine body slender and angular and her bottom proudly in the air.

I kneel behind her and kiss her buttocks. She shifts to get more comfortable, and looks around at me.

“Has anybody ever licked your arse before?” I ask.

“No,” she whispers. “I’ve never even thought about it really.”

I put my face in her crack and lick her gently. She groans.

“All right?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says with a tremble in her voice. “Don’t stop.”

I get stuck in, licking her anus and the insides of her buttocks, poking my tongue into the hole and giving her the full benefit of my flattened mouth muscle to touch a host of nerve endings at once. She rides my tongue like a surfer, welcoming each touch, the intensity growing all the time until she is trembling all over. I give her another mighty, loving lick and she bucks and writhes and makes uncontrollable noises, as if she is being taken over by something she’s not sure she really likes, yet knows she loves. Then she screams, her face buried in her elbow, and falls flat. I lie on top of her, still fully clothed, and she scrambles out from under. She unzips my jeans and pulls my raging cock out.

“In my mouth,” she says urgently. I clamber up her and wank in front of her face. When I’m about to come, she seems to know, and takes over, applying the last few tugs with loving skill, then plunging her mouth over my knob as the ejaculation starts. She loves what is happening – at this moment and at this time in her life. She loves this practical sex education.

“You licked my arse,” she says with eyes shining. “Made me cum by doing that.”

“And you wanked me off,” I reply. “Made me cum in your mouth.”

We lie in a state of stunned satisfaction for a minute and then there is a knock at the door. This time Jessica stands up and starts pulling clothes on.

“I know who it is,” she says with a slight shake of the head.”

“Who?”

“Claire.” This is her best friend, the one with whom she shares information and, apparently, occasionally boyfriends. I hurriedly get dressed and go through to my office to sit casually on a comfortable chair, while Jessica lets her in. There is happy girly banter, Jessica scolding and Claire giggling as they enter the room.

I am introduced to Claire, who is as tall as Jessica but fuller of body, with hips and a big bottom, some flesh on her bones. She has a dignified face that she straightens automatically in between giggles.

“Vic,” Jessica begins in imitation of a whiny child, “You never do much on Friday afternoons, do you?” It’s true, we don’t.

“Sandra told you that, did she?” She nods.

“She said you go out for lunch and spend the afternoon in here drinking wine.”

“Sometimes,” I admit.

“Can we do that?” Jessica implores.

So on Friday lunchtime I go out and buy some sparkling wine and a nice Burgundy, plus a big bag of crisps. When I get back, Claire has arrived and the two of them are sitting in my office.

I lock the door and we all sit, staring out of the window.

“So was it you knocking on the door every day?” I ask Claire. She looks at her friend and giggles. Her cheeks are already flushed from the wine.

“The first day I came to see if you wanted to go out for lunch,” she explains. “But I heard things in here and it suddenly went quiet. So I came back the next day and the next and just listened.

“You bitch!” Jessica laughs. “I’ll get you for that.”

We sit happily talking for half an hour more and then I go to the toilet and wash my cock. I don’t know why. When I get back in the room the atmosphere has changed. Jessica comes over and sits on my lap, showing off her power over me.

“We were wondering,” she says, running a finger into my open-necked shirt. “If you’d like to do things with Claire too.” We enter a frank stage of explanations. They are both afraid of being stuck here in our little town, unexcited and getting married because there seems like nothing better to do.

“So we want to at least have some experience…” Jessica says, tailing off.

“I want to live a bit,” Claire leaps in. “So if that’s okay with you, we can do all the things you and Jess have done and she can… watch.”

Jessica walks to the cupboard where I keep the sleeping bags, takes them out and spreads them on the floor. Claire suppresses a smile and Jessica nods at them. Claire sits on them. She is wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt. She looks at me and pulls the shirt over her head. She has a maroon bra holding her large breasts and she wants me to look at it. I sit next to her and push her to the floor. Jessica sits, riveted, watching, as I take off Claire’s bra with her back-arching cooperation, and set about sucking her nipples. Her hands snake down to my jeans and she squeezes my package, finds my swelling cock and isolates it. She looks up at her friend and they exchange a glassy gaze.

Claire unzips me and pulls my jeans off. She bites my cock through my underpants and pulls them off too. Then in a trice, she has removed the rest of her own clothing and we are naked together, alone but observed, with a benign monitor willing us on. Jessica’s right hand is inside her skirt, touching herself.

“Lick her arse,” she tells me with a crack in her voice. I’ve only just met Claire and I’m being urged to perform this outrageous act. Claire is on her back with her legs in the air, her hands pulling them higher and her little bumhole smiling at me below a wrinkly pussy and pubic hair that is shaven into a heart shape. Jessica groans with primitive lust as I put my face between her friend’s buttocks and lick her. Claire is tilted so far back that she keels over and we all laugh nervously.

“On your knees,” I say, and she adopts the position, while Jessica is quickly slipping out of her clothes to join her on the floor. Two beautiful young women are kneeling with their bottoms raised for me to lick. I go back to Claire’s first and notice that it has a pink, speckled rim, like a designer touch. She is extremely sensitive or perhaps shy, wary of giving her anus to me in case I think she’s too brazen. I clamp her thighs with my arms and force my face right against her so she knows nothing is too rude and anyway, I am doing this, not her. Then she relaxes and lets it happen and we get into a slow rhythm.

“No one has ever done that to me before,” she gasps in wonderment. “I’m gonna, I’m... oh, I’m coming.” When Claire slumps down in ecstasy I move across to Jessica, who is rubbing her clitoris impatiently. I pull her hand away from it and lick her.

“You love me licking your arsehole, don’t you?” I say a little too smoothly for my own liking. “Tell me.”

“I love you licking my arsehole,” she says. “And I loved watching you doing it to Claire. Now I’m…I’m…” and she screams and lays herself down.

Claire is now on her back with her legs spread so I can see her pussy. Somehow, the pubic hair makes the showing and looking seem even more starkly rude and wanton.

“Come here,’ she says. “I want you inside me.” I plunge into Claire’s slick, self-lubricated vagina and she clamps herself around me, kissing me frantically and moving her hips as best she can to get me to fuck her harder.

“Save some for me,” Jessica finds herself saying, lying next to us with her hand between us, feeling my balls and our combined, juice-soaked crotches. Then she is up on her knees, licking my arse and then pulling me bodily off Claire and slamming me into herself. Claire pokes one finger up my arse and one from the other hand up her own and we are like a mad, frantic machine. Claire twists across to kiss my mouth and Jessica joins us and we’re a writhing mass of tongues, hands, buttocks, pussies and my embattled cock, until my crotch eventually lets forth a flood of semen, enough to fill Jessica and then dive onto Claire and give her the rest in her lovely, naughty pubic hair. It’s a blur: I’m fucking Jessica, I’m inside her friend, I have fingers inside both of them, I’m coming in one hole, I’m slipping crazily into another.

Finally, the three of us lie panting on the floor.

“Fuck, you two…” I say gratefully and Jessica lies on top of me while Claire somehow gets between us to suck the juices and cum off my cock and lick her friend clean too.

The next week Sandra is back, repaired and happy.

“Jessica likes you,” she says at lunchtime. “You know she’s getting married. Did she tell you? And her friend Claire. They’re both pregnant. they’re having a double wedding.”