I was standing outside one of the most expensive lingerie emporia in London, plucking up courage to enter. I could afford it, we both have well paid jobs, no mortgage and a fairly modest lifestyle. But this was extravagant. It was our wedding aniversary next month and I wanted to give the man I love, my husband. A special gift. Me, gift wrapped. There were no prices on the items displayed in the window, a confection of black lace and ribbon. A voice behind me broke my reverie. "Wendy? Goodness! It is you isn't it?" I turned. The elegant woman before me was familiar, but… "Lotte. From school." Realisation dawned. Lotte. Or rather, The honourable Charlotte Wythington-fforbes. "Lotte!" I echoed, stupidly. "All these years," she was saying. "What a lovely surprise. We must catch up, are you free? Can you have coffee or are you busy? Were you just going in?" I noticed that she was carrying a bag with the shop's logo. If I had coffee with her, my shopping would have to wait, I was on my lunch-break. "Yes," I replied. "But it can wait." "Dont you have an appointment?" She continued. Appointment? No, I did not, should I have? "Oh you need an appointment with the redoubtable Madame P. Nothing in there is read to wear. Coffee then." That seemed to have settled it. She shooed me into the Italian restaurant next door. We were met by the plump proprietor, who gushed; "Signora Duval, always a pleasure." Lotte was even gushier; "Arturo, maestro! Just two of your excellent lattes today, per favore." He called a waiter over, who led us to a table. Arturo fussed behind. They held chairs for us then minced away. The place was quite full, normally, a restaurant like this would turn away 'coffee onlys', but not Lotte. "Let me sort out a appointment next door, then we'll chat. What's your surname now?" I told her. She made the call. They would see me as soon as we had finished coffee. I was going to be late back to work. The coffee was, as promised, excellent. We chatted. We agreed to meet here, for lunch, the next day. Coffee over, she accompanied me to the lingerie shop, apologised and left. Madame P. made a very thourough examination and my dimensions were fed into a computer. I chose a cupless basque in pale blue silk and a matching thong. The aniversary was our twelfth see. Silk. I was very late back from lunch, grovelling apologies, then I had to tell them that I would be taking the afternoon off next day, more apologies. I had allowed myself to be steamrollered by Lotte, and not for the first time. I was an military child, brought up in married quarters. My early schooldays had been spent on naval bases all round the world, while Dad righted wrongs on behalf of her majesty. When I reached secondary school age, I was sent to boarding school. It was in the final year at boarding school when I met Lotte. We had shared a room. One night after lights out, I heard gasping and groaning from Lotte's side. I thought she was ill. "Are you alright Lotte? I enquired. The noises stopped. "I was until you interupted, I was about to come." She snapped. "Come where?" I asked. "Come off, climax, orgasm," she said. "I was wanking." There was a pause, then; "Don't tell me you don't." Another pause, then; "You really don't do you?" She was right, I didn't. I was very late into puberty and had yet to experiment. But I knew what she meant - masturbate. "You are in for a treat," said Lotte. "Wet the middle finger of one hand, put your hand between your legs and push that finger into your hole." I did. "The hole is your cunt. Now draw you finger up between you lips. At the top, there is a little bud. That's your clit, it's very sensitive. It was. "Now gently stroke it, make little circles around it." Within seconds, I had my first orgasm. I thought I was dying. It was my turn to gasp and groan. "Isn't that just the best thing ever? " She concluded. I had to agree. "Now shut up and let me finish." This time, hearing her 'wanking' made me want to do it again. I did, then fell into a deep sleep. The following night, Lotte suggested that doing it to each other was even better. It was. Her doing it with her tongue was better still. It all came to an abrupt end when we were discovered in bed together. Fortunately, it was a cold night and we were still in our nighties, sleeping soundly in each others arms having giving each other many orgasms. Silver-tongued Lotte, (In more ways than one.) talked her way out of it by saying that I was homesick, she was comforting me. But the next day, we were separated. Separation did not stop us seeng each other during the day, we found places where we could indulge. I realise now that Lotte probably had several acolytes. The honourable Charlotte was anything but. The next phase in my education was my introduction to the opposite sex. Lotte had found a boyfriend. Billy was a farmhand on the school farm. A strapping lad, but a bit light in the intellect department. But Lotte was not interested in his brain. She arranged a meeting in one of the barns, Lotte, me, two of her other female followers and Billy. Lotte's students sat on straw bales, Lotte stood, she was the tutor. She ordered Billy to strip. Billy obeyed. His stiff cock projected like a dividing rod. It was the first I had seen, it seemed frighteningly large. Billy's grin was so wide it looked like the top of his head could be hinged back. Lotte took it between finger and thumb and began the sex lesson, a la Lotte; "This is his penis, or prick," she began. "This is the foreskin, it pulls back to reveal his knob." She demonstrated. Then continued; "This hole is where the pee comes out, but when his prick is hard, its where the spunk comes out. Spunk comes from his balls. Spunk is what makes babies." She led Billy by the prick to each of us in turn and encouraged us to examine his equipment. She then instructed him to wank. There were squeals from the girls as great spurts of grey/white gunge shot several feet across the barn. "That's what happens when you fuck," explained Lotte. "The prick goes up your cunt, spunks and you get pregnant. So when you fuck, you make him wear one of these." She produced a condom. "This is like a rubber bag to catch the spunk." Billy was bone hard again, still grinning. Holding the teat between her lips, Lotte rolled the condom onto Billy's prick using her mouth, then lifted up her skirt, she was knickerless. She reclined against a bale and guided Billy's prick into her cunt. Very soon she was brandishing the filled condom. We knew all this of course, we had sex education at school, but we had never had a practical demonstration. Lotte then offered Billy's services to each of us, there was one taker, and another fillled condom. Lotte concluded on a note that had not been in the official curriculum; "Of course," she said. "If you don't have a condom, you can suck him off. You like that don't you Billy?" Billy nodded enthusiastically. Lotte continiued; "You can swallow spunk without getting pregnant." She demonstrated and again offered each of us the opportunity. This time there were no takers, the idea of that smelly object spitting into our mouths was a bit advanced for any of us. The lesson was over. It was the first and the last, two days later Lotte was caught in flagrante, with another girl in the showers. They were both sent home and I never saw lotte again. Until now. I worked late to compensate for my extended lunch. I had no one to go home to, my husband, James, was away. He was away a lot. Alone in our big bed, my thoughts returned to Lotte. She had been my only lesbian lover. I'm not sure why, she gave me more orgasms than all of my early male lovers put together. I needed to masturbate and did so thinking of Lotte. I met Lotte as arranged. Between courses, Lotte leaned close and asked; "Do you still swing both ways Wend." I replied that I did not. "Pity," she said. "I could bite the crutch out of your knickers right now." I shuddered at the thought. I had not had sex with a woman since her. I certainly had enjoyed it then, why not now? We finished the dessert, but Lotte declined coffee, sugesting instead that we have coffee at her flat, which was nearby. Her flat was the entire top floor of a 'Pont Street Dutch' style house in a nearby square. There would not have been much change from a small fortune. Lotte made coffee, but it remained untouched. I was not untouched, Lotte had her way with me on a huge bed in the master bedroom. I have to say, it was my way too. Memories of school came flooding back as she fingered me to orgasm number one. She did not need to bite the crutch out of my knickers, she took them off, along with everything except my stockings and suspenders. She was similarly clad. I was on my back, thighs wide spread as she worked her magic on my clit with her tongue, I was on the brink of my umpteenth orgasm when I realised that we were not alone. There was a man in a suit standing in the doorway, watching. "There's somebody here!" I squealed, covering my naked tits with an arm. Lotte turned her head and said; "You're back early darling. This is Wendy. We're almost finished." And she went back to my cunt. 'Darling' removed his clothes, revealing a well toned body and an erect cock. Without a word, he knelt behind Lotte, fumbled between her thighs and pushed into her. Lotte exhaled into my cunt. He fucked her gently for a while, each thrust being transmitted through her to me. Then he stopped, fumbled again and then thrust again. Lotte raised her face, wet with my juices and groaned; "He's in my arse." I came on the spot. Lotte leaned forward, resting her head on my chest while 'Darling' finished buggering her, letting out a deep roar as he discharged into her. Introductions were made. 'Darling' was her husband, François. He had just returned from Paris on Eurostar. Before I left, we arranged to meet again. They would like to meet my husband. Why not come to dinner so that we could get to know each other better? I had a pretty good idea what she meant.