A few months ago I had the most amazing experience.

After spending last summer with my relatives in California and being on the beach almost every day playing volleyball and working out, when it was time to go home to get ready for my last semester in college, the only thing I could think about was leaving that great weather and losing the tan I had worked so hard to get.

I’d been home a couple of weeks when I decided it was time to try out a tanning shop near campus. One evening after class I put on my new bikini, under a sweatshirt and pants, and walked down to the tanning shop. The woman at the counter was very friendly. She was about 30, quite attractive, about five foot eight, with long red hair and nails and a beautiful tan. I couldn’t help noticing that her ample breasts were straining against her T-shirt and her nipples were clearly visible. Her name tag read “Sandra,” but she told me to call her Sandi instead.

Sandi gave me a tour of the shop. Then we settled down in one of the tanning rooms. She said we had to figure out my skin type so I would know what setting to use on the tanning bed. When she asked me to remove my sweatshirt I hesitated for a moment. Sandi smiled and put her hand on my knee, saying, “It’s okay, honey. I do this every day.”

I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and dropped it on the massage table. Sandi smiled and started to hold some photos up against me, one at a time. She told me how careful people with sensitive skin have to be in a tanning bed. “Here, look at this one,” she said, holding a photo of freckled skin next to her chest. I could see her own freckles as they disappeared into her cleavage. “Redheads like me can do only a couple of minutes at a time.”

Finally she had me narrowed down to two skin types. “Let’s see your tan lines,” she said. “That will help me figure this out.” Slowly, I stood up and began to remove my sweatpants. As I struggled to pull them over my sneakers, I noticed that Sandi was watching very closely. I turned around to put my pants on the massage table, and as I started to turn back, she put a hand on my hip and said, “Hold it. This is just what I wanted to see.” She held one of the photos up against my bottom and gently ran a long red fingernail along the tan lines. “Hmm,” she said, putting the photos down and gently placing a hand on each cheek, “I think this is just right.”

She scratched, squeezed, rubbed, and gently pinched every inch of each of my mostly bare cheeks. I stood perfectly still, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe. Then Sandi hooked one finger in the back of my G-string and gently but firmly pulled it tight. A shiver ran through my entire body as the thin fabric snuggled into my crotch. My knees felt weak and I had to bend over and lean on the massage table to keep from falling. I felt Sandi’s hands on my hips, and as she held me her nails dug slightly into my thighs. Her breath and lips on my bottom soon canceled any apprehension I may have had.

Her fingers worked their way under the sides of my bikini bottom, and as she kissed and nibbled my butt cheeks, she slowly slid off my thong. Then she turned me around and sat me on the massage table. Now we were face to face, and the lust in her eyes must have matched my own. She leaned closer and covered my mouth with hers and drove her tongue in until it seemed to wrap around mine. Our arms went around each other. I held on as much to keep from collapsing as with desire. I could feel her pillow-like breasts squeezed tightly against my own.

I didn’t even notice it, but somehow her fingers had unsnapped my bikini top. The small triangles of fabric and string fell away, exposing my tiny tits. To my surprise, my nipples were bigger and redder than I had ever seen them. Immediately, Sandi’s mouth covered my entire left breast while her devilishly red nails went to work on my right. She pinched and bit and sucked and savored my breasts like no boyfriend had ever done. She knew what a girl likes to feel. My head fell back and I had a small orgasm. I heard myself moan as goose bumps popped up all over my body.

Sandi’s kisses began to travel lower. She licked, kissed, and then gently scratched the insides of my thighs. Next she lifted my legs so that my sneakers were flat on the massage table and my knees in front of my face. She leaned forward until I felt her hot breath between my legs as her hands grabbed my ass. Her nose gently roamed through my curly bush, which I had trimmed that day so I could wear the tiny bikini that was now somewhere on the floor. Softly, she kissed my pussy lips, and I could feel them swelling and pulsing with excitement. I couldn’t control my breathing now. It came in short gasps with each lick. She pointed her tongue and pushed further in. Sparks began to go off inside me as she licked and sucked my most sensitive places. She found my little button and began to concentrate all of her energy on it.

I grabbed my knees and pulled, trying to open myself wider. This gave me a better view of what Sandi was doing. She stopped for just a second and put one of her fingers in her mouth. She slowly drew it out, glistening with her saliva. The long red nail toyed with my moist, lips, then started to wriggle its way between them. It felt so good that I thought I would explode. Sandi looked up at me and smiled, her face wet from the treatment she had been giving me, and then her mouth went to work on me in earnest. The slurping sounds were audible now, as her long tongue drilled into me and her finger pumped back and forth. My legs quivered as I shook all over.

This was Sandi’s signal to really go for it. She started to devour me now with her mouth. She alternated licking, sucking, and stabbing my throbbing little button with her tongue. That was it. I couldn’t stand any more. A devastating orgasm tore through me. In the distance I could hear Sandi’s muffled moans as I gushed into her mouth.

As the tremors began to subside, she stood up and started to kiss my neck and chest. I could smell myself on her face as she drew nearer and kissed me deeply. The taste of my own sex on her lips gave me another, smaller orgasm. She felt it and it made her giggle. We cuddled for a few minutes, and then I asked if she wanted me to try to do the same thing for her. She gazed deep into my eyes and hugged me tight again, mashing her breasts against mine.

Suddenly we were startled by the sound of the bell on the front door, announcing that a customer had just entered the shop. Sandi jumped up, straightened her shirt, and frowned. “I have a customer,” she said with a sigh. “But,” she added, “you enjoy your tanning session. We’ll work out a schedule for your future visits.” She smiled, blew me a kiss, and hurried out of the room.

I collapsed onto the tanning bed for a few moments, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. I felt as though I had just been run over by a train loaded with orgasms. Still shaking, I dressed and tried to sneak out of the shop, certain that anyone there would be able to tell what had happened just by looking at me. Sandi, who was talking with a customer, caught my eye, and I blushed again.

Sandi and I got together at the shop once or twice more, and once at her apartment. She taught me a great deal about how to please a woman, but then her ex-husband started calling her and she said that maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.

I still have a very nice tan, though, and always blush and smile whenever I visit the shop. I often fantasize about my trips to the tanning shop. The possibility of this letter appearing in “Forum” really excites me too.