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Two adult-only stories. In "Starting Gun," Megan is an 18-yr-old just starting out: "I pulled my top off, and showed him the clasp, at the front of the bra, between my breasts. He unfastened it and just gazed at them, like a love-sick puppy dog. I’m proud of my boobs, I think they look nice. Quite big without trying to fall onto my tummy, firm, really pink nipples which were really stiff then! It looked like Nigel was in a trance, so I grabbed his hands and cupped them round my boobs. He started squeezing straight away, and somehow he got it pretty well right. He leant forward and kissed me again, then started kissing my nipples. He got his hands into the waistband of my jeans, and started pulling them down. I knew I should stop him, but I thought I’d give him a bit of a treat first. He ran his hand over me down there; I hadn’t shaved for a day or two, so I was a bit stubbly, but he didn’t seem to mind. He got a finger in me and started going in and out. With his mouth and other hand busy on my chest, it was really nice, and I had a little come. Then he started trying to get his head down between my legs. I gave him just long enough to have a good look at it, and one quick kiss, and then I pulled him back up. “I don’t want you to do that today, or I might forget and let you put your thing in. And you mustn’t. I like that thing with the finger though.”" In "College Town," Rebecca is paying her way through Uni by selling her sexual services to women: "She looked up briefly at Mrs Fotheringham’s face, saw the flush of the first orgasm building up, and started to kiss her way down the stomach, her mouth following the path her hands had recently explored. At the top edge of the forest of red hair, Alice let her tongue trace a path round it, down the outer lip on one side, right down to the area she had washed gently some while ago, and up the other outer lip; using her fingers, she then carefully eased the inner lips apart. Her tongue touched the sweetness. Alice could taste the sweet nectar of her client’s excitement, the lubrication running freely. She lapped at it, as a cat would at milk, feeling her own flow as she drank it down; Mrs Fotheringham’s hips were straining up from the bed. Alice moved her head back. She let a finger find its way to the opening of that love tunnel, and dip slightly inside. Mrs F gasped, and Alice eased the finger all the way in. She worked it backwards and forwards, knowing it wouldn’t be enough for her client, but in no rush."