Special Needs & Sexual Health

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Lesbianism and Intimacy (PART TWO).

Thank you, Tracey, for your kind words and the memories that my earlier experiences

evoked within you, as I am pretty sure that my story did with others.

Therefore, I am recollecting my Experiences.


PUBESCENCES,  the eternal yearning; the angst.  Those untimely feelings of actively unguarded sexuality, while in a crowded tram car or in the middle of Maths class.

Girl’s school! Nowhere to go. No one who understands. No boy next door to go home to. Permission denied to go out and explore. The constant pressure to study, sit still and behave. Wearing a uniform that screams conformity! Go home, study, sit still and act. While, all along and underneath it all, is this steaming, writhing, sexual tension that one is expected to sublimate and ignore.

Yes, I lay in bed at night and want to be a star. Dream of being adored by all, and fantasize about having my rapidly developing and extremely sensitive breasts played with. I am sick of playing with them myself; in the darkness of my tiny bedroom where I experience, little or no privacy except in the depth that darkness of the night brings, when all in the house are asleep.

So many nights I dream of that French movie about the schoolgirls, who would find every moment to meet in the dark corners of the corridors. To touch each other, caress each other’s newly changing bodies, and revel in the forbidden act of the unexplored.

I go to maths class on a dreary, dark and rainy day. I can’t seem to ignore my breasts today!

They rub like crazy against my new trainer bra every time I move. She sits next to me in the back row, I suddenly feel a strange warmth. Maybe too warm, and  I am not sure why?

Our teacher, Mr T has a long monologue. ‘Equations’. I know equations! I get them! I don’t have to look at him. Next, to me, she is writing a note: “Will you help me with this stuff... I don’t get it”?

I scribble back: “Of course, just not now”! She put her hand on my thigh to thank me, and there, she leaves it.

I take a moment while Mr T is writing on the board, to turn my head to look at her. She is staring straight at me with a quizzical look on her face; as if to ask me a question: “Is this OK”? Oh my goodness, I felt this wetness in my panties and thought that perhaps I had pissed into my panties at first, and then, I understood.

She wore her uniform short. Her legs were kind of hairy but shapely. I placed my hand on her leg, the same location, and  I furtively glance at her. She was blushing! She guided her hand up my thigh a little. I felt like laughing out aloud. There was this moment when I felt like I could just break up and laugh uncontrollably, after all, our friendship to date, so far had been one of sharing total irreverence about everything. So was this a joke?


When Mr T turned from the chalkboard, she did not remove her hand. While he spoke, she turned her hand around, and with the back of her fingers gently caressed both my thighs with the back of her fingernails, while writing with her left hand. Her touch felt experienced, and arousing, as she repeatedly searched the outside of my thighs, going downwards and once the teacher turned around again, the inside of my thighs going upward.

This, for me, was a lesson; a ‘double lesson’! Time to bend our heads down and do some written work.

As the class prepared pens and books to settle down to the tasks Mr T required us to write down, I moved closer to her, smothering my giggling because I was so thoroughly embarrassed yet excited at the same time. Both of us covered our desk with as many folders and books as we were able to manage because I knew that we would have to hide what we were going to do next.

She whispered in my ear: “I want you to open your legs for me”.

I had to lean back in the small seat of the desk. I was overwhelmed by excitement. The threat of being caught; made the experience even more provocative. I instinctively knew what was about to happen me. What I had needed during those long nights over the school holidays when no one was there to help.

My natural wetness was oozing through my panties, and I had to lift the back of my school uniform dress so as to not be sitting on it. My ‘girl’s experienced hand finally made it to the top of my inner thigh. She used her up-turned hand to separate the side of my panties and slide her finger into the slit between my labia. By then, I was so wet she didn’t experience trouble in locating my clitoris. I just wanted to squeal with delight!

Mr T looked up from his desk. He seemed to be staring directly at me. I felt shame, and joy all at once. It appeared to enhance the sexuality of the whole thing. As soon as he looked away, she thrust her upturned finger right into my virginal hole without hesitation.

I saw this flash of light, went warm all over. I wanted to ride it and dance. It was all I could do to not scream with heavenly delight.

I had to pull her hand away, it was too good.

We were having two lessons, one after the other. The bell rang, bringing in the second period and I wanted her to experience the joy that I had felt.

Still scribbling, I don’t know what, (and to this day, don’t recall) with my right hand, I awkwardly put my left hand on the top of her thigh. I smiled at her and nodded as if to say: “Your turn”!

She gave me an impish smile back as if to say: “Let’s be naughty”! That cheeky, irreverence again! I soon learned to love that about her. So without any further introduction, I ventured into the side of her knickers. Pulled them across, and for the first time, felt the new soft and silky hairs emerging on her beautifully rounded pubis. Rather than turning me off,  it made things more complicated. I could feel my nipples becoming hard. I ached for her to touch them. There was nothing we could do…..


Mr T stood up from his desk and began to stroll around the first desks of the classroom inspecting everybody’s progress. I had to pull away.

We both feigned real interest in the bookwork we were doing. I quickly did a sum or two in; my girl’s’ book and passed it across. She whispered in my ear: “I have my period anyway, we’ll continue this again another day”.

After class, we both ran in opposite directions with other things to do. I came away feeling that my school life was never going to be the same. At home that night I thought about what had happened. I was mature enough to understand that it was not only the receiving that turned me on, it was also the possibility of exploring her that gave me as much pleasure. It made me understand that I was in fact actually responsive to being a lesbian and that these feelings were very real and fantastic. As a teenager, however, how did this work in with my love for Romantic Movies and Pop Groups and my crushes on the male as well as female stars?

It was all so very confusing. The next week at the lockers, ‘my girl’ asked that we meet behind the hall at lunchtime. I wasn’t able to hear a word of what the teachers were saying that morning. All I could think of was what we would do together and how much I knew I wanted her. Here is what happened:

To be continued.



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