Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Alison Wheatcroft

“What are you doing!?” I half-whispered, half-squealed at the now-nude eight-year-old in my back garden.

“I can’t sit around in wet pants!” she said, as if this should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

“I know, but you’re naked!” I retorted, slightly panicking and worrying about people seeing, even though we were in the most secluded place possible. Other than the moon, that is.

“And?”

I gave her a wide-eyed, raised-eyebrows look of incredulity. It was bad enough I was topless in front of a kid, without her not wearing a stitch of clothing either!

“It’s not as if it’s something you haven’t seen before,” Bonnie said, passing a hand from her navel to halfway down her thighs. “Besides, you have one!” She pointed at the relevant area.

“Fair point, well made, but I don’t want to show it off!” I said. “Does it not bother you that I can see your, well, bits?”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head and sending her short, strawberry-blond ponytail bouncing around. “All girls have one, and it’s not as if we don’t know what they’re for or what they look like. I think if everyone was naked we’d have a much nicer world.”

“And much colder people,” I said. “Especially if you lived in the North. You’d freeze your tits off!”

Bonnie laughed so hard at this she grasped her belly.

“Oops!” she then said, “ I nearly peed myself! Just off to the toilet. No looking at my drawing, now!”

I watched her bare bum wink in the sunshine before disappearing inside, and decided that if she was comfortable with it, and comfortable with her own body, then I wouldn’t let it bother me – though topless was quite a push for me.

As much as I was tempted to see what she had drawn, I supposed I shouldn’t break the rules, so I got up and walked through the sunshine and looked over the back fence through the gaps in the tree trunks. Sunshine reached everywhere I could see; not even the faintest breeze was in the air. An idyllic summer’s day. I heard the toilet flush from inside the house, and slowly walked back to where our towels were spread.

When Bonnie walked through the front room, I got what she was on about. How could someone almost half my age be twice as clever about things like this? Hers was a female form, not the same as all the others but fundamentally similar. I could appreciate her small, slender figure without thinking about anything most other people would consider “rude”.

“Better?” I asked, and she nodded. “Good! I hope you like the ace drawing I’ve done for you. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done for me!”

“Okay, but you first,” she said, sitting down on my towel. I sat next to her and turned over my drawing pad. I saw the delight on her face as she took in the shapes and colours spelling out her name. She threw her arms around my middle, her cheek resting against my side.

“It’s brilliant!” she said as she let me go. “I’m going to put that on my door at home – Mum will love it! How did you know I liked green and blue?”

“Oh, instinct,” I said with a smile. “What have you done for me?”

She crawled on all fours to her towel, and even though I was still trying to avoid looking between her legs, I got a brief glimpse of her smooth vagina, and even her anus. I’d looked at my own vagina in the mirror a few times, and mine was different to hers. I hadn’t looked much at my bottom though, so I couldn’t really tell if there was much difference. My curiosity was piqued, despite my earlier rationalization that this was purely innocent.

Bonnie returned with her drawing pad, and showed me what she had done. To say I was astounded was an understatement of the highest order.

She had drawn me in the act of drawing her, but in an incredibly beautiful way. She hadn’t used colours, only simple pencil, and the detail was fantastic. She had also given me slightly bushier hair and removed my glasses. The biggest difference, however, was that she had drawn me without pants on – basically, a naked sketch. Amazingly, she had even had the knowledge to give me pubic hair too.

“That is beautiful,” I whispered, my eyes scanning every single detail. “Truly, truly beautiful. You are a superb artist.” I leaned across and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m only good with pencils,” she replied, “I’m not very good with paint or colours.”

“You have an amazing talent,” I said. “I’ll keep this forever, but not on my bedroom door! My Mum would be a bit shocked!”

“Thanks, Edie,” she said, and gave me another hug. “Was I right about the hair on your, um, thing? I know my mum has it down there, but I wasn’t sure if you do.”

“I do have it,” I said, “and you were practically spot-on. I’d shave mine off so I could be smooth like you, but I’m always too nervous to do it.”

“Is it the same colour as your normal hair?” she asked, looking up at me quizzically.

“It usually is,” I replied, “though I’ve heard that with some people, the colour is different. I’ve not really ever seen anybody else’s. Mine’s definitely red, though.”

“Can…” she started, before trailing off, a sheepish look on her round face.

“Go on…” I encouraged.

“Can I, well, can I see it?”

I’d half expected her to ask this. Kids are naturally inquisitive, and given Bonnie’s very relaxed attitude towards nudity, she would obviously be keen to know how the bodies of other girls compared with hers. What else could I do but educate her?

“Of course you can, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“Not to tell anybody?”

“Not just that, you have to let me promise see what your bits look like,” I said, knowing that I was taking a massive risk. But my curiosity was just as keen as hers, and I felt as if I was finally shaking off a shroud of inhibition by letting Bonnie see all of me.

I hooked my thumbs into the waist of my shorts, slid them down, threw them aside, and slowly spread my legs.

The world seemed to take on a quality of stillness. The air was immobile. The sun beat down relentlessly. Even the birds who usually chattered in the trees had fallen silent. Eight-year-old Bonnie looked on with rapt attention as I sat with my legs open, showing my vagina to her.

“Wow,” she whispered, and I noticed a hand move slowly towards the cleft between her own legs. “It looks different than mine. But it’s gorgeous. I like that it’s a little open – will that happen to me?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you, sweetie,” I said, “I don’t look at it that much myself, and I’ve never seen another one. I’d guess they’re all different, the same way everyone’s hair or eyes or face is different.”

“Your hair there is the same as on your head,” she said. “Can I touch it?”

“Of course,” I said. “But be gentle; I’m a little ticklish around my pussy.”

I totally hadn’t meant to say that! What if she repeated that word in front of her mother and said she’d learned it from me? Surprisingly, however, she seemed to be more focussed on what was between my legs. I felt her small hand gently pat it a few times, and stroke it once. She drew her hand back, her top teeth gently pinching her bottom lip as her eyes remained on my vagina, drinking in every detail.

“What do you think?” I said.

“I like it,” she whispered. “It’s so delicate. Like a lovely flower. What did you call it just then?”

“I called it my pussy, but that’s a rude word for it, so it’s definitely one you can not tell your parents or friends. It can also be called a fanny — which means your bum in the United States, but your bits here. There’s ruder words for it, but those I just told you are the nicest ones.”

I closed my legs and drew them under me.

“I like ‘fanny’,” Bonnie said, “It sounds nice. I might call mine that. But only with you!” she added quickly, to reassure me. “What’s it for? My mum has told me that it’s where babies come out, but she’s not really said much more than that. My dad, he always says to ask Mum about things like that.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t told you more,” I said. “You know that boys have something different between their legs, right?”

Bonnie nodded, “I saw one when I was at the swimming baths when I was six – Dad took me in with him to get changed. I didn’t like it much.”

“Well, normally, boys put that inside a girl’s vagina to make babies,” I said, registering the look of disgust on her face. “I know, icky, right? But it’s apparently quite enjoyable, which is why people do it. Though sometimes boys like boys and girls like girls, and they play with each other’s bits. But that’s only to make one another feel good.”

“Has a boy ever put his thing in you?”

“Nope, not yet. I was quite a bit unpopular at school, and the boys didn’t like me much.”

“What about girls?”

“The other girls didn’t like me much either. I’ll be honest, I didn’t know I liked girls this way until about half an hour ago, when I saw how beautiful you looked in just your pants. I’ve only got one real friend who’s a girl, but I like her as a friend. Not as anything more.”

“Have you ever touched yours?” The eight-year-old asked me. “Because I touched mine a week ago and I liked it a lot, but I’ve no idea if it’s naughty, or if I should be doing it. Is it normal?”

I realised that Bonnie had already begun the first stages towards masturbating. I myself had only been doing it for a year at most. My disinterest in boys, who appeared to be the main priority for other girls in my year, had led to a reluctance to explore anything sexual. It had been by accident, while in the bath, that I’d discovered how nice it felt to touch myself.

“It’s perfectly normal,” I reassured her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “You’re just doing it a lot earlier than most girls do.”

She nodded, and gave me a hug with a whispered word of thanks. It was then that I noticed her smooth white skin was drier than it should be, and very warm.

“Time for more suncream, I think,” I said, “only this time I think we can sunbathe fully nude. Definitely no tan lines today!”

She giggled and scrambled off to grab the bottle. She turned and threw it to me, and I began applying it to myself carefully, not caring about decorum as I covered my legs and, for the first time in my life, applying the suncream to my genitals. I wasn’t worried about putting more on Bonnie right away – I figured that the lingering protection from my earlier application should keep her safe for another minute.

“I need you to do my back, Bonnie,” I said, and the little girl happily obliged. She then passed me the bottle back.

“Aren’t you going to put any on?” I asked quizzically, “You’ll burn if you don’t, and we’ll both be in trouble!”

“Okay,” she said, “but I want you to do it for me. Everywhere.”

This morning had just gotten a whole lot weirder. Way, way weirder. I could hardly say no, seeing as how she was beginning to look to me as a font of adult knowledge.

“Okay, lie on your front,” I said, and she laid on her towel. She spread her legs a little, whether to show off her vagina — of which she seemed not just intrigued, but proud — or to make sure I could cover her thighs. I would never know for sure. Either way, it was a truly divine, beautiful sight.

I began by gently rubbing the cream into her back, shoulders and neck before moving on to her arms. I then started at her ankles and made sure her legs were fully covered before finally rubbing some over her soft buttocks.

“On your back, sweetie,” I said, and she obeyed in a pliant, unchallenging manner. I covered the tops of her legs that I hadn’t managed while she was on her front. I then dabbed gently around her face, which would be the most vulnerable to the sun. Her chest came next, and as I passed over the tiny pink bumps that would one day be nipples, I had an urge to squeeze one.

“Okay, done,” I said, putting the cap on the bottle and making to toss it aside, when Bonnie shook her head. “Have I forgotten something?”

The naked eight-year-old then bent her knees, spread her legs, and exposed a pale, smooth, narrow little slit not three feet from me.

“You put some on your pussy,” she said. “Now I want you to rub some on mine. I trust you.”