Being between five and ten years older than most of my friends, I'd sort of become the unofficial agony aunt for our group - having been there and done that. The girls would come to me with their problems - especially in relation to their sex lives and men! I never really fully understood that part because one of the first things I made clear to my friends when we grew a bit closer was that I was bisexual - if they were cool with that then we got on well, if not, that was their tough luck.

 At 44 years of age, divorced and living on my own quite happily with my two kids, my friends thought that I would always have the answer - perhaps it was the "happy" bit  - happy not to have a man in my life. Perhaps this was why, whenever one of the girls got dumped, they would always come round to mine for some sympathy. Within the group, this was a standing joke - "sympathy" always entailed "sympathy sex" - the girls would turn up, cry on my shoulder, spend the night with me making love, and then throw themselves back into the "fray" the next morning - having reaffirmed their sexuality and independence between my thighs. Being honest, I had slept with virtually all my friends - always at their instigation - and those I hadn't slept with, had slept with each other for moral support.

Looking back on it, it was a sort of bisexual help group - but we were closer than sisters, shared every secret and looked after each other’s backs at all times - there was no jealousy, no lying, no issues and NO MEN! The ONLY rule was that the "sympathy" which we provided each other was personal and was strictly kept away from our kids.

But things changed last summer when one of my friend's daughters came home from school. I had known Linda for many years and our kids had played together pretty much from when they could walk - but Dee had recently blossomed into a lovely young girl - about 5'4 and with flowing chestnut locks. In a very few months, Dee had grown from a rangy tomboy into the most striking beauty with huge dark eyes and a very substantial chest, which I estimated at 38d, slim waist and long tapering legs. Not bad for a 21 year old, I thought wistfully - but having watched Dee grow up, I knew there could never be anything between us. Or so I thought...

About a week later, late on a Friday afternoon, Dee turned up on my doorstep - she had obviously been crying and was upset. Over tea and a cuddle, Dee told me that her boyfriend from school had called her to tell her that their relationship was over - basically, he had found someone prettier! I rubbed her back and told her that what he had said must have been an excuse because there was no one in the county who was prettier than her. She looked at me with those deep limpid pools - "Oh Simone," she said, "you're so nice, I wish I could stay here in your arms forever."

"There'll be other boys ..." I started.

"No!" she said adamantly. "I've had it with boys! They're clumsy, selfish, insensitive ..." she trailed off. " I want to be with you."

For a moment, I wasn't sure that I had heard what she had said correctly. "Wha ...." I stammered.

"Oh c'mon Simone," Dee begged. "Everybody knows that you