A Leap of Faith

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2014


Although it had been three weeks ago now, I was still in a state of euphoric happiness over my selection for the senior cheerleading team of my high school. You had to be over sixteen years of age to be eligible, and at my first chance for a try-out – which with good fortune had happened just two weeks after my sixteenth birthday – I had been successful! I still could hardly believe it – I mean, I know, without false modesty, that I am really pretty and have a well-developed figure for my age, and I’m sporty and athletic too, but even so very few girls make it into the team at their first attempt, and I was still walking on air as a result.

I also had a secret reason for being so thrilled, although this was not something that I could share with my friends. About a year ago, I had come to terms with the fact that only females engaged my sexual interest – that I was, and would forever be, totally one-hundred-per-cent lesbian. In truth, the realisation didn’t upset me at all – in fact, it was very much a relief that I no longer had to try and push myself into fancying boys. Instead, I could give free rein to my imagination as far as sex with girls and women was concerned, and indulge in fantasies about not just pop stars and television actresses, but also the people around me who I saw every day. The problem was that it was just imagination, for I was too scared of the social and family consequences of exposure to risk making an overt approach to anyone, in case I had misjudged them. I did not know how I could safely indicate my availability, and I was too inexperienced and lacking in confidence to know if someone else was sending out sapphic signals.

So I had to content myself with a luridly imagined fantasy sex-life, accompanied by daily masturbation. Fortunately, I’m an only child and both my parents work downtown, so I have our little suburban house to myself for a couple of hours each day when I get home from school. The first part of that time – my little ritual – was that I would go into my bedroom, close the curtains, and then slowly undress myself, with plenty of caresses to breasts and cunt, all the time imagining that it was some particular person who was seducing and making love to me. Once naked, or nearly so, I would lie down on my bed on my back, spread my legs, and finger or poke my pussy until I climaxed, whilst still imagining that the same female was fucking me. A couple of months ago, by chance, I discovered where my Mom keeps her vibrator, and since then I take that into my room and use it on myself, afterwards wiping it dry and replacing it exactly as I had found it.

Sometimes, when pleasuring myself in this way, I would think of one or other of my best friends of my own age, but most often I pictured one of our teachers, as I have always been turned on by the sexual charisma of an experienced woman. For some time now, my most frequent fantasy was that I was being fucked by Ms Templeton – I really had a crush on her, partly for her looks but also for her manner, which was a mixture of authoritative command which sent a real thrill through every fibre of my being, and also a fund of warmth and kindness. She was a strikingly handsome woman in her late 20s, about a dozen years older than me: a tall slim leggy blonde, with eye-catching curves of a full bust, narrow waist and a trim athletic ass. Best of all – and one of the reasons for my euphoria – was that Ms Templeton was the coach for the senior cheerleaders. Now I would have lots more contact with her, and not as just one student amongst the thirty in her geography class, but in the informal setting of the cheerleading squad – where I would be skipping about in our team’s delightfully skimpy uniform, flashing my panties as often as I could manage!

There was something about our beautiful blonde coach that resonated in my heart and even more vibrantly in my cunt, and I had a feeling, just an instinct – although I knew full well that it might be just wishful thinking – that she might be on the same sexual wavelength. From time to time I saw a hint that encouraged my hopes, such as the carefully casual glances which she gave some of the girls when we practiced the more panty-revealing or bust-bouncing routines, or the lingering – almost caressing – touch of her fingers on the bare forearm of our team captain as they discussed tactics. Best of all, I had recently sometimes caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye of the coach looking at me when she thought I was unaware of it, and I also remembered the gleam in her regard when she told me that I had passed the audition and been selected for the squad.

On this particular school day, it was nearing

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THE END