Rising Star
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Rising Star 4 free porn video
I’m very conscious that I started these tales at the time when I was an unknown actress about thirty years old. It might be interesting for me (if nobody else!) to go back in time.
I met Lilly Caterham in my first year at my boarding school. I’d been sent there because my mother basically loathed me, mainly because of the close relationship, more a friendship really, that I shared with my dad. He and I loved rugby, loved motorcycling and shared a common sense of humour. My mother was dry, miserable and jealous.
So I arrived at school aged thirteen, delivered by a tearful father and carrying a large suitcase with almost all my worldly goods in it and was led by a brisk woman who was, I later learned, the matron, tears streaming down my young cheeks to a dormitory (they still existed then). There I unpacked under her supervision and, left alone, sat on the narrow bed, one of six in the room, and sobbed quietly.
“Christ, you look miserable.” I looked up to see a girl in tennis clothes, tall for her age, blonde with a developing bosom. “What’s your name?”
“Faye.”
“I’m Lilly. We’re neighbours.” She sat on her cot facing me. “Why the tears?”
I wiped them away, or at least tried to. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”
“You and about ninety-five per cent of the inmates, darling. But you’ll get used to it. It’s not all bad although the food is. Most of the teachers are borderline sadists and the rest are boring as fuck.” I’d never heard anyone say ‘fuck’ except on the terraces at the local rugby ground. “Best thing, I’d say, is for you to get changed into your tennis kit and come and bang a ball around with me for a while. You do play tennis, don’t you?”
And that was the start of the longest friendship I have ever had. Lilly was a force of nature. Her older sister, Felicity, was then Head Girl but I barely ever spoke to her. The older girls lived in a bubble of their own and we ‘children’ were almost ignored, like servants in an Edwardian household. Flick was the victim of the first crush I ever had. She was so confident, polished, witty. I wanted to be her. But it was Lilly who looked after me, cared for me, guided me through not just my first year but my entire school career.
I was an unexceptional student although I had and retain a good memory. I wasn’t hopeless at sport but my ‘thing’ was acting and I got deeply into every school production.
Let me just say here that if you’re hoping for some fruity schoolgirl boffing I’m afraid you won't get it. To be perceived as gay in my school was to be ridiculed, vilified and humiliated. “Dyke” was the single most vicious invective. Unfortunately, I was, I knew, a lesbian. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. I hid this from my peers and, to reinforce the pretence, I invented boyfriends I’d made during holidays: a French boy here, a German there.
By the time we reached the upper sixth, the final year of our school days and when we were seventeen or eighteen, Lilly had replaced her sister as Head Girl. I was not even a sub-prefect, being regarded by most of the teaching staff as feckless, lazy and dense. The exception to this was Miss Grace Thompson, our drama teacher. She and I got on really well. She encouraged me to write playlets for the drama classes and to perform. All our female teachers were called Miss even if, as in Miss Thompson’s case, they were married.
Head Girl, Lilly may have been but she was not above flouting rules for the sake of devilment. She was brave and rebellious but in clever ways, clever enough not to get caught. In our last year, we each had our own room, known by all as our ‘cell.’ Unlike the ‘children’ we were also allowed out of school in the evenings, subject to a strictly enforced curfew at 9 pm. Lilly and I often went out after last period, grabbed a bus to the nearest town and went to a pub, strictly against the rules. We’d drink gin and tonic and whilst I felt wickedly rebellious, Lilly was totally at ease.
“What if we get caught?”
“Fuck them I say, darling. They’re not going to kick us out and lose the fees, are they? That’s why they never come here, so they don’t ‘know’ we do.”
“Lilly.”
“What?”
“Have you ever smoked weed?”
She looked at me, rather surprised. “Have you?” We had shared the odd ciggy together and that was it.
“No, but I want to.”
A slow grin spread across her face. “You dissolute wretch. I always thought butter wouldn’t melt.” She paused. “What an abso-fucking-lutely brilliant idea. Where can we get some?”
I had been making discreet enquiries of a boy we sometimes saw in the pub and he’d offered me some, hoping, I suspect, to get in my knickers. I’d bought it, told him no chance and secreted it in my knicker pocket (I know – but seriously, regulation knickers had a small pocket for, believe it or not, change in case we needed to use a public toilet!).
“Well, as it happens, I already have.”
“Millerton, you’re a fucking criminal!” She seemed delighted. “Did you get ciggy papers too?” I hadn’t thought of that. So Lilly marched with me to the local shop and she bought a pack of Rizzlas and what she called ‘vanilla fags’ (a ‘fag’ being, for our transatlantic cousins, a cigarette, not a gay boy).
Having returned to school in time for the curfew, we sneaked out again later via a well-used route Lilly had discovered and in the darkness of the hockey pavilion and with a bottle of vodka Lilly had cached there earlier we got wasted. In fact, this became a weekly routine and gradually we became better at taking a sensible dose of both weed and booze.
Our conspiracy drew us even closer than before and we loved each other in a sisterly way as we do to this day.
One night, a candle burning between us, a joint and a glass each, I said, “Lill?”
“Yes, fart-face?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m gay.”
“Well, of course you are, you twat.” And that was that, I had come out to someone. She never told a soul while we a school and only later did she tell anyone if she was matchmaking, her main aim in life.
I went to a drama school in London. For me, a small town girl. London was the big city. I had two objectives. The first was to find out more about being me; being queer, gay, lesbian, whatever you like to call it. Maybe that really meant I wanted to get laid, I was still a virgin for god’s sake even if my hymen had been ruptured by a dildo earlier during a holiday in Amsterdam. The second objective was to learn to act.
The drama school was in Paddington, close to the station and I found a room in a house about a mile away so I could walk there and back. I shared with three other girls, all at the school; one who’d been there for two years and two in their final, third year. That helped a lot. They acted like my big sisters and helped me find my way. To begin with, I concentrated on getting to know the school and the course and my tutors.
Three weeks, in I discovered there was a lesbian society and decided to go along to a meeting, advertised in the bar of the Students Union that the school shared with one of the local university campuses. Christ, they were dull. It was all about feminism and activism and every other bloody 'ism' going. I sat through it, bored to death and was delighted when it broke up. I went to the bar and ordered myself a huge and much-needed gin and tonic.
“Did you enjoy the meeting?”
A woman, about forty, had sidled up beside me without my noticing. I looked her over. Trim, my height, casually dressed in jeans and a tee like myself but classy if you know what I mean. Wavy auburn hair, fair skin, green eyes, good tits.
“Not a lot. Bit too political for my taste. Did you?”
“No. I’m Nicky.”
“Faye.” We shook hands.
She smiled. “I go to see who else goes.”
“Hard to tell when they all wear a uniform.”
“Ah, you noticed.”
It had been hard not to. Almost to a woman they’d been dressed in drab sweatshirts, drab trousers and mostly with ridiculous thick neck scarves and walking boots. It was as if they were trying to conceal their gender.
I smiled. ‘I didn’t notice you I’m afraid.”
“I arrived late and sat at the back. That way I avoid being there for too long and can get a look at them all.”
“Forgive me saying but aren’t you a bit old for the Union bar?”
“I’m thirty-eight and I’m a mature student at the Uni. We’re allowed in too.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“I didn’t think you did. So why did you go?”
“I’ve been gay forever but never done anything about it.”
I explained about school. “So, having arrived in the big city I decided I ought to do a bit of research.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s sensible. No schoolgirl fumblings?”
“Nope. Not so much as a chaste kiss.”
She kissed me, there and then, full on the mouth. I recoiled and she grinned. “Not to your liking?”
“God, sorry, just took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting that, not here, not just like that.”
“I know,” she laughed. “A bit of devilment on my part. But at least you’ve had a chaste kiss now. Want another one?”
Despite the others in the bar, she took my face between her hands and kissed me, long, slow and with her tongue prising my lips apart. This wasn’t chaste, at least not by my standards. Her tongue pushed between my teeth and I found myself responding very readily. I also noticed my nipples were responding too and I felt a distinct if indescribable sensation in my knickers. When she broke the kiss there was a smattering of applause from others in the bar. I expect I blushed but Nicky almost bowed to the audience.
She slipped her arm across my shoulders, ordered us both drinks and then sat beside me, smiling. “I have something of a reputation.”
“For what?”
“For finding girls who haven’t but want to. They call me a scalp hunter.”
“A scalp hunter?”
“Yes, I like to put notches on my bedpost. I’m not one for relationships. I just love sex and sex with girls like you, young, untutored, exploring is, for me, as good as it gets.” She stood up, slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a card. She placed it, face down in front of me and said, “Give me a call if you want to.”
She kissed my cheek and wandered off leaving one Faye Millerton in a state of total disbelief. I turned the card over. It said, ‘Nicky Kellerman.’ It also gave her number and address. I stared at it and ordered another drink. What the fuck was that all about? She wanders in, kisses me in front of twenty or thirty people then buggers off.
I got back to my house. I showered and got into bed, naked. I closed my eyes and remembered the kiss and the feelings it aroused in me. I touched my nipples and realised they were hard again. I reached down and found my cunt wet, wetter, it seemed, than ever. I stroked and fingered myself and it was about three minutes before I had to stifle a little cry of pleasure as I came.
Nicky Kellerman lived in a large, three storey townhouse on the edge of Hyde Park. It must have been worth millions. She opened her door to me and stood aside to let me in. I looked around, parquet flooring, light wood furniture and everything inside looked as opulent as the outside suggested.
“My dad’s place,” she told me as she handed me a glass of wine. “He’s a banker, loaded and loves me to be a perpetual student.”
“He’s not here?”
“He lives in America. Mum’s dead, so here you find Nicky, living alone in fabulous luxury. Hedonism is my religion.”
We sat in deep leather chairs and drank wine for a while. I asked her about her work and she asked me about mine. She was fun and witty and I liked her and thank God I did, because however desperate I was to get laid, I wasn’t going to do it with just anyone. But this was not really about small talk. This was about sex.
“Let me show you my bedroom.”
I’d worn the student uniform, blue jeans and a paler blue shirt, canvas shoes. Her long, black skirt and silk t looked fabulous on her. I could tell her breasts were unfettered, they moved wonderfully and her nipples were clearly apparent. She took my face in her hands as she had done in the Union bar only this time she held me just out of lip-reach and looked into my eyes.
“Quite sure?”
“Quite sure, yes.”
She kissed me then and it started light and exploring and slowly, by degrees became more intimate, her tongue first lapping at my lips then pushing between my teeth, not meeting much resistance. She held my face all through that kiss. We broke for air and there was a second, longer and this time her hands moved to my back and caressed it as if searching for a bra which she wouldn’t find. She stepped back and watching my eyes she unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it out of my jeans, opening it wide.
“Mmmm,” she breathed, studying my nipples. “They seem quite sure too.”
She pushed my long, chestnut hair behind my ears and leant down to kiss each nipple softly. I couldn’t believe how good it felt. Still kissing and sucking my nipples she undid my jeans but didn’t try to push them down, just left them open.
“Help me take my top off.”
I did and she lifted her arms and held them aloft after I’d removed the shirt. Her breasts had looked good clothed, naked they were breathtaking. I’d seen plenty of tits during my time at school but these were mature, full but firm and with very dark, large nipples.
“Kiss them.”
I had been longing for this moment but I seemed unable to move. Her hands took my face again and guided me gently them and held me, her fingers lightly in my hair as, for the first time in my life I made love to another woman’s nipples. I kissed them, licked them sucked them and my hands moved without conscious direction from me to touch, tentatively at first, then more boldly, feeling their shape, their weight, their texture.
She pushed my jeans and knickers down together and studied my naked pussy. Her face tantalizingly close to me, she seemed to be recording me and I wondered for a moment if she was comparing me to others. And if she was, so what? She didn’t touch me. She stood up straight and guided me to her bed and as I lay prone, she slipped off her skirt. She was naked underneath it and her muff was a triangular patch of closely trimmed red.
“Nobody else, ever?” Only me, I told her. That made her smile. “No-one has ever touched you here?”
She almost, but not quite, touched my pussy. I shook my head. She took my hand and stretched my arm out straight so it extended beyond the side of the bed and settled herself on it. She rocked gently and I could feel her moistness. She reached down behind her and pushed my middle finger up so it stood a little proud of the others and I felt her lips. Her finger pushed mine more firmly until I was inside her and, to my utter amazement, so was hers. Eyes closed she rode our fingers, lifting a little, settling, rotating, letting me learn how she felt inside.
Her finger slipped out, leaving mine alone until she gently pushed another of mine into her before bending at the waist and kissing my nipple, biting it gently. Then her hand ran down my belly, over my pubic hair and finally covering my mound. She curled a finger into me, so slowly I couldn’t believe it was going in.
It was impossible to lie still. I squirmed under her as she continued to kiss my nipple, finger me gently and ride my hand. Her mouth moved to mine and her finger was joined by another and those two began to work me faster, deep inside me then slowly out, pace increasing with each inward thrust.
My arse lifted off her bed and she stopped kissing me to say, “You can cum, just tell me when.”
Her thumb touched my clit and that started it. I was almost out of my body, watching us and I felt her pussy squeezing my fingers ad I knew I was almost there. I started to moan, “Now, now, now,” her mouth accepting my sighs and groans and then I came, like a whirlwind, totally lost in the moment, so lost that I didn’t notice her orgasm.
We lay facing each other, her mouth close to mine, her arm under my neck, one of mine across her hip.
She kissed me. “Time for you to go.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, you do. Come and see me on Friday.”
I was on tenterhooks all week. I attended my classes and studied my reading, my lines, some writing but always there in the back of my mind was Friday evening.
“Hi, Lilly.” I’d called her. “How are things amongst the dreaming spires?”
She’d got accepted into Oxford which was no real surprise. “Fucking awful. How is thesping going?”
“Fucking brilliant.”
“Oh, my God. You got laid didn’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Good for you. Wonderful. Any good?”
“Not good, amazing, fabulous, beyond wildest dreams good.”
“Maybe I should try it!”
We promised to meet up soon and rang off. Well, I’d had to tell someone and who else was there?
Friday evening came after what had seemed a month. I put on a dress with nothing under it and felt delightfully wicked. I rang Nicky’s doorbell. She opened the door and she was wearing a sheer black robe which was almost open, revealing a lot of breast and leg.
“Ah, Faye, come on in. You know where to go.” She smiled.
She followed me as I walked into her bedroom. There was a strap-on hanging off the bedpost and I stopped in my tracks when I saw it.
“That’s not for you. I had a fifty-year-old on her hands and knees here last night. It was for her. She’s wanted to ret women for ages so I decided to oblige.” If she was hoping to shock me she succeeded. “I told you, I don’t do romance, just hedonism. If you don’t like it, it’s fine. We’ll part company now.”
She kissed me and any doubts I’d had evaporated.
She stood behind me, her chin on my shoulder, her hands fondling my breasts. “She knelt there on my bed and I had her. Her name’s Patience! Totally inappropriate.” She laughed and I was suddenly a conspirator, enjoying the image. “Now, lesson number two.”
As she said this, her hands left my breasts and went to the zip at the neck of the back of my dress. She pulled it down and pushed the dress off my shoulders and let it pool at my feet.
“Saving time, are we?” Her hand slipped between my legs and a finger stroked my naked pussy. Her robe whispered as it slid off her body and she said, “Sit on the bed.”
My back to the headboard, I sat. She pushed my knees apart and lifted them and her unruly hair stroked the skin of my thighs as she leant in, closer and closer. She kissed and licked my thighs, her hands leading or following her mouth as she got closer to my puss.
“Watch.”
The first touch of her tongue was a tease, feather light and barely touching. With her fingernails running lightly over my sensitive inner thighs her tongue pressed more firmly and I simply couldn’t believe how good it felt. It roamed between my lips, down over my perineum and back up, opening, spreading my lips.
She seemed fascinated and I watched as her auburn waves moved slowly between my spread thighs, her tongue taking me somewhere I had only dreamed of. A finger slithered into me and she licked around it then lifted my hood with the tip of her tongue and circled my clit. My nipples were hard, hurting.
I was horrified when she stopped, shuffling so she was sitting like me.
“Your turn. Come on, taste a woman for the first time.”
I needed no second bidding. I replayed her movements almost as if following a director’s guidance on stage. I licked, tasted, slurped her moisture, fingered her.
“Now my bum.” I looked up at her. “Go on. It’s clean and you’ll see how good it feels for me.”
I did and she started shaking, trembling. She shifted again and moved me onto my back and straddled my face. Her face between my thighs, her pussy over my face she licked me, kissed me and I did the same to her. Then her tongue circled my bum and I nearly climaxed, it felt too good. I did the same to her and the frenzy started. We almost came together.
She bellowed something I could barely hear as her thighs clamped tightly to my ears. All I really knew that my body was trying to bend the wrong way and her pussy was flooding over me and it was the sweetest, most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I stayed that night and several times during the dark hours she’d wake me or I’d wake her. I lost count of my orgasms.
In the morning she told me, in a kindly way, to go home. She kissed me, helped me shower and dress and told me to come back on Wednesday. At the door, she stroked my face.
“You’re good, Faye.”
“You’re an amazing teacher.”
“Don’t fall in love.”
“You’ve made that point.”
“Good.”
I really didn’t care. I was me now, confirmed everything I had always known and believed and I knew there was more to come. I had no idea for how long but I meant to savour every moment.
Mara
- 01.01.2022
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- Category:
- Lesbian
