By P. J. Rosier

Note: I am a British author who has just published his first book, "Summer Loving", a collection of ten short stories told in the first person by Lydia.

Lydia relates how, as an innocent 18 year old girl in 1960s America, she first encounters Lesbian Sex and Domestic Discipline on a road trip to the West Coast and how, after her arrival there, outside events plus her own curiosity and interests lead her continually into this spanking lifestyle.

Written as a factual account, this 175 page fast moving and highly descriptive book describes her Lesbian experiences with older women and friends her own age plus painful and explicit disciplinary sessions from spanking to whipping as authority figures inevitably intervene.

The extract below is from Chapter One. If you like it and want to read more and maybe buy the whole book (from as little as $1.95), go to:

http://books.lulu.com/content/482936

The Bus Trip

(Lydia starts her road trip by long distance bus from her friend Cherry's home in the Mid West to rejoin her parents on the West Coast.)

It would be quite a journey, about three full days by bus, not counting that Cherry’s pop would need to drive me into town to pick up the bus as it didn’t go through the small hamlet where they lived. Funnily enough, at this time no-one thought it particularly strange to expect a young girl to travel on her own by bus for that length of time. I suppose there were a number of reasons. Bus travel was probably at the height of its popularity then. Many people had cars but few would have wanted to undertake long distance automobile trips and not so many people flew - at least compared to later years.

Consequently, there was a strong probability that the passengers would be largely respectable, often family groups, who might be expected to look out for a youngster on her own.

So, it was a different world and an exciting one for my great adventure travelling across three states to a new and exciting life in southern California.

The first day on the bus was fine. It was about half full. I was sitting up front a row or two back from the driver. I had a double seat to myself and passed the time reading and looking out the window, maybe dozing from time to time and taking advantage of the few refreshment stops to freshen up as much as possible. It was late in the summer and the heat beat down outside on the semi-arid landscape and made all of us well aware of the benefits of the air conditioned bus when we stepped outside into the often blistering day-time heat.

In the seat opposite mine on the other side of the aisle was a dark-haired lady of, I guessed, around mid twenties in age. She glanced across and smiled a few times and when we stopped we exchanged the odd word or two although it was always she who started the conversations; I was too shy by far. I was much taken by her innate, it seemed to me, elegance and the fact she could maintain this in the less than ideal conditions of long distance bus travel.

It was the second day when things changed. At the first stop of the day, a businessman joined the bus. He wore, as I recall, a rather rumpled suit but he was clean shaven and outwardly respectable enough but I immediately distrusted him when, after looking around the bus as he got on, he sat right next to me. There were plenty of completely empty double seats to choose from but, at my age, I didn’t feel I could say anything.

For a while everything seemed OK and I suppose I dozed a bit because I remember waking up and feeling his leg pressed against mine. He seemed to have spread out well on to my side and my skirt, already fairly short, had slid up my thighs as I slept leaving a lot of bare flesh for his legs to rub against.

Just at this point, I felt his hand, hard calloused fingertips, stroking my inner thigh and then gripping the top of my leg in a strong and frankly terrifying grip. His hands moved under the hem of my skirt and onto the material of my panties which his fingers began to fondle.

I squirmed as far away as I could and twisted around towards the window and away from him and pushed against his hand with mine, not that that had much effect. I was so embarrassed at the idea of making any sort of fuss that I did not dare to utter more than a squeak of protest when I became aware of someone standing over us.

“You, leave her alone”, it was the older lady from the seat opposite across the aisle. “What do you think you’re doing” and there was a loud crack as she hit my tormentor back-handed across the face! I guess she was wearing some pretty bulky rings because his head jerked back and to the side and some blood ran down on to his collar.

At this point, the fuss had alerted the driver who brought the bus to a halt at the side of one of those endless country roads and came back to see what on earth was going on.

My saviour quickly made it clear exactly what had happened and the bus driver turned to me for confirmation. I was so upset by then that I could only nod through my tears but it was enough and the driver physically seized my tormentor and pushed him down the steps to the road. A few seconds later, there was the metallic sigh of the luggage compartment being opened and a distinct thud as the man’s suitcase made a none too gentle contact with the pavement.

Seconds later, the bus was back on the move again, the man left stranded by the road. It would serve him right to get sunstroke or die of dehydration!

My friendly neighbor from across the aisle came and sat next to me and began to chat to take my mind off of things I guess. I learnt her name was Paula and that she was travelling to Los Angeles where she had relatives or friends, I wasn’t too sure which. Either way, she would be leaving the bus before me but not until the next day.

Once again, I was impressed by the way she managed to remain so smart. That day she was wearing a grey two piece suit and blouse. The suit skirt was about knee length, clearly she wore stockings underneath and her legs struck me as long and elegant compared to mine which were thin and stalk-like, bare beneath my short skirt and with unsophisticated white ankle socks and not stockings.

We talked, I told her about myself and the day passed with its usual quota of rest stops and a change of driver part way through. It was towards the evening when we became aware that things were not perhaps going as well with the bus as they should have been. The driver seemed to have trouble in maintaining any sort of speed even on flat roads.

When we reached the next rest stop, the driver disappeared to use the phone and returned some time later when we were due to re-board the bus to explain that we would have to stay there for the night. The company would send out a mechanic to fix the problem with the engine, or to bring another bus, but this would not be until the next morning. In the meantime, as further progress was impossible, we could stay the night at the adjacent motel and the company would pay.

There was some grumbling from the other passengers but to me it was just another part of the adventure and my new friend Paula didn’t seem too put out either, especially as she could phone to let her friends know she would be delayed.

In the Motel

The motel, which lay back from the café where we had stopped for our rest break, was of a design that people even now think of when the word “motel” is mentioned. A collection of individual cabins around a car park with a swimming pool, of a sort, out back and an office with a flickering neon sign and a Coke machine outside.

Unfortunately, there were not quite enough cabins for the number of passengers: some would need to share. Naturally, Paula and I could do so.

By the time we had taken our bags into the cabin, at the end of a row and some way from the others, unpacked what we might need, sorted out who would have which (of the two) beds and strolled around outside, the light was fading and a sort of desert calm had descended. It seemed a reasonable moment to go back to the café for dinner and then, as darkness had finally fallen completely, to wander back to our cabin.

Both of us wanted to have a shower; the opportunity to freshen up properly after two days on the bus and with at least one more to come, was irresistible. Paula let me go first and, after showering and wrapping my wet hair in a towel, I decided to use the opportunity to wear the baby doll nightdress that I had purchased and so lovingly packed.

The nightdress part itself came down to about my hips only, the panties covered the rest and, whilst they would probably seem quite voluminous by modern standards where thongs are seen as quite normal, in those days they seemed quite daringly brief. Putting it on reminded me again of poor Cherry and I wondered if she was getting any more beatings from her stepmom or whether, now that I had left, things had calmed down. I certainly remembered the feelings that witnessing Cherry’s rear end being pounded unmercifully had brought to mind and I suppressed the thought as much as I could but not before I became aware of a moist feeling again in the crotch of my panties!

I had no robe but that was hardly going to matter with just the two of us in the room.

Paula glanced at the baby doll with raised eyebrows before herself going to shower; returning after a while wearing a white fluffy towelling robe. As she sat to dry her hair, the robe fell open and I could not help but notice that underneath she was wearing nothing at all.

“I don’t normally wear anything to bed,” she explained “but if it bothers you, I’ll put on some panties.”

“Oh no, no, that’s OK,” I must have stuttered feeling somewhat embarrassed by this situation and also trying desperately to look as if it was all quite normal to me!

Afterwards, we sat and watched a show or two on the black and white television in the room. Remember, this was the early sixties. I think it received one channel free of snow and interference but, sitting on the bed, with my clearly urbane new friend, drinking Coke from the bottles that Paula had purchased from the machine outside the office - no cans in those days - seemed the very essence of sophistication to me!

The TV show we had been watching ended and Paula got up to switch it off. Whilst she was up, she carefully drew the blinds across the window and went to the door to make sure it was locked and chained securely.

As she walked back towards the bed, I saw with some surprise that she was no longer making any attempt to hold together the two halves of her robe; in fact, they fell apart revealing the whole length of her pink and white skin from neck to thighs, punctuated by her deep red nipples and black bush of pubic hair.

She came up to where I sat watching her and, taking my hands in hers, pulled me to my feet and swung me round in front of her. She then sat on the edge of the bed facing me, her robe recklessly open and revealing all. But she seemed quite unaware of this as her eyes bored into mine in a look that I had only seen once before: when she had confronted my tormentor on the bus earlier in the day.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you? Haven’t you?” And she squeezed my hands hard in emphasis as she repeated the question.

I could only stand and stare at her. What did she mean and why was she being like this?

“I’m sure you have been told many times not to talk to strangers and yet, here you are, sharing a motel room with someone you don’t know and have only just met!”

“Yes, but, I do know you, sort of, Paula…”

”Do you? I don’t think so. I could be absolutely anyone and I’m going to have to show you that you must do as you are told.” Her eyes stared deeply into mine and held me transfixed. I really couldn’t speak or move and I didn’t know what was going on here at all.

She released my hands from her steel hard grip.

“Take down your panties now.” Then, as I hesitated, “NOW!” Still staring into those hypnotic eyes I felt I had no choice. She was older, she was authoritative and I was used to doing what I was told. My hand went to the elastic round the waistband and gently tugged them down to my ankles where I stepped out of them. I stood in front of her naked from the waist down.

“Come here!” I stood in front of her and she reached across and pulled me towards her and down onto her lap. Her robe was well back off her thighs and I remember feeling her soft bush of dark hair rub across my stomach as she strongly, and with practiced ease, pulled me into position. With one hand around my waist she held me tight and with the other she pulled my baby doll up away from my cheeks and waist.

She reversed her grip, her left hand holding me tight around my bare flesh and her right rising and falling as she spanked my bare ass. I was in shock to the extent that I was too astonished to even squirm at first let alone to squeal or make any sort of a fuss.

“You need a good spanking and you will get one from me”, Paula panted, her hand slapping my cheeks again and again, first from the thighs up and over my bare buttocks to my waist and then down again. The shock wore off and I began to wriggle and squirm. My legs were kicking like I was trying to swim away from her but it was no good; I couldn’t escape.

For a moment she stopped and I thought she had finished, then I realised that she was just bending down to pick up one of the leather soled slippers she had been wearing. Slap and slap again, that hurt far more than her hand and my cheeks, already on fire, began to burn brighter and hotter.

I don’t know how much noise I must have made but no-one seemed to take any notice. Maybe anyone who did hear had thought we were related and it was big sister disciplining little sister, or something like that.

Eventually with a sigh she stopped and let me go. I slipped from her lap and fell to the floor exhausted and, oh, so sore. My cheeks were on fire and I could feel their heat with my hands clasped to them. What was even more shaming was that my slit was somehow soaking wet.

I lay curled up on the floor and was just aware of Paula’s voice above me saying “that will teach you to do as you are told”, and the tears came hot and stinging to my eyes.

I felt around on the floor, picked up my panties and, pulling down my baby doll as far as I could do, limped with burning cheeks to my bed on which I fell and curled up. I was vaguely aware of Paula lying on the other bed, panting from her exertions.

I must have dozed at some point because the next thing I was aware of was Paula’s naked body pressing against mine from behind.

“Lydia, Lydia, don’t sulk, you know it really was for your own good. You just mustn’t be so trusting. Anything could have happened to you.”

“Paula, you really hurt me and I thought we were friends…”

“Oh, we are; well, I think of you as a younger sister, sort of. I wasn’t that hard on you, was I? I might have got a bit carried away, perhaps.” Her hands slid around my belly from behind, she held me tight and pressed harder against me. The feel of the bush of her pubic hair pressed against my buttocks caused a lurch in my stomach and a feeling of warmth, about as hot as the way my cheeks still felt, grew in my belly and surged upwards into my chest. I could almost feel my breasts seeming to swell and my nipples harden as the feeling caught hold of me.

The last time I had felt this way was when Cherry got her whipping but otherwise this sort of sexual excitement was quite rare to me; boys had not often had that effect and, if anything, it had been my own imagination on long hot sleepy afternoons alone in my bedroom that had fired up such feelings. Now it was for real!

I slid round in Paula’s arms and felt her lips descend on mine and her hot enthusiastic tongue enter my mouth. There was no reluctance on my part to embrace her affection literally as well as figuratively and I surrendered every vestige of self control or modesty as I felt her hands caress my buttocks and move between my legs. I wriggled away briefly in order to work my baby doll up and over my arms and head and throw it to one side. Her lips and tongue immediately targeted my nipples and my small breasts, sucking and licking them into a larger size than they had ever before achieved!

If I thought it odd that I should be in bed, surrendering to the attentions of this older woman and learning things that I should never have learned at that age and perhaps never ever, it really didn’t occur to me. It was just a heavenly experience and as time went by and one orgasm was followed by another, I think I gave her as much as she gave me. My tongue, lips and fingers were all actively employed in bringing this beautiful creature to the same heights of ecstasy that she had brought me….with one exception.

After seemingly endless love making, as we sprawled hot and sweaty on the crumpled remains of my bed, Paula said “well, now I know that you really did deserve that spanking and now you need another one!”

“Oh, no, Paula, God, I’m so sore still.”

“All the better to spank you now, then, you won’t easily forget it.”

And she turned me over on her lap again and her hand rose and fell, rose and fell again and again first on one cheek and then the other. At one point I nearly slipped from her lap and, as my legs slid apart, my buttocks opened to reveal the tender flesh within my crack and again her hands brought down a flurry of blows on this sensitive skin.

At last she stopped and, bending forward, kissed my red hot cheeks before inserting her tongue between my buttocks and lovingly caressing my anus. We lay in a haze of sex, lust and love until day break. Rising reluctantly for breakfast, we learned that the repaired bus would be leaving in an hour’s time. One hour left because after today we would never see one another again! We just had to make the most of it.

As soon as we were back in our room, the door had hardly slammed shut behind us when Paula pushed me down on the bed and reaching under my short skirt, pulled down my panties with such force that the elastic tore right out of the waistband. Her hands were all over me there and her lips on my throat and chin, then mouth and eyes. My own hands had flown seemingly of their own volition under her skirt where I found her stockings and suspenders but no panties just beautiful bare, smooth and cool flesh. In contrast, her slit was so hot and so wet, what could I do but caress it and squeeze it whilst kissing her face and, when I could lower my face from her insistent embrace, suck and kiss her breasts under and within her blouse which by then was hanging open with half of the buttons torn open or indeed torn off.

We just made it to the bus before it left! Sitting close together in that double seat, now a lovers’ seat, the final hours together flew by as we surreptitiously held hands and slid our still inquisitive fingers into one another’s most intimate zones, muffling our involuntary gasps and sighs of pleasure.

Eventually the bus made that fateful stop in Los Angeles and it was time for Paula to go. We never exchanged addresses; we knew that would never work. But I was left with the most exciting and instructive experience of my sexually formative years – and I never, ever forgot it.

THE END

© P Rosier 2003, 2006

WANT TO READ MORE OF THIS BOOK? GO TO

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