Selena could imagine only too well the scenario in which she was participating. After all, she was wholly responsible for it. One small, but large breasted, girl was applying her wide-open mouth to Selena's own. Another girl, very similar in appearance, if not virtually identical, was licking and sucking and chewing her smooth and hairless vagina. Selena found the taste of saliva and teeth almost sweet, slightly salty, and strangely convincing. Her fist and most of her forearm was embedded deep within the vagina of a third girl, who differed only in appearance from the other two by virtue of the colour of her hair. All her eyes could see was the smooth white skin of the girl she was kissing, but she knew that the one whose vagina she was so brutally violating had canary yellow hair. And, correspondingly, a very hairy canary yellow crotch.

Selena liked her girls to have hairy crotches. She didn't know why, but the combination she somehow liked best in her girls was that they should be short, big breasted and with very thick pubic hair. The girls' faces were mostly fairly identical: impossibly smooth and blemish-free. Just like her own face. Their straight hair was cut level to their chins and coloured, in these cases, yellow, blue and red. The hair colour was almost the only thing that could positively distinguish the three girls who were so passionately making love to her.

"Do you like it, bitch?" snarled Selena, in that erotic comic book style she'd once never believed she'd ever adopt.

"Yes, mistress!" said the yellow-haired girl, who demonstrated her ecstasy by cries of joy. She was hot and sticky and remarkably life-like.

In fact, all the girls were remarkably life-like. Even Selena. She had placed many full-length mirrors about the extensive garden where she mostly spent her virtual life, so that she could admire herself as she walked, played or made love under the steady, unchanging, midday sun. As she observed her reflection in a nearby mirror set into the trunk of a large oak tree, she saw the image of herself in the passionate company of three short voluptuous girls, with skin so ivory smooth and perfect. The larger, taller, slim, but massively breasted figure who was naked in the midst of these girls was herself. Not involved in the action, but available at a moment's notice, was any number of similarly identical girls, with the self-same hairstyle coloured green, purple, black, gold or whatever.

The girl who had been kissing her mouth transferred her attention down to her breasts and planted her thick luscious blue lips on their perfect aureate nipples. A drool of saliva fell out of her mouth, and rolled in a deliciously erotic flow down the lower contours of her huge mammary endowments and gathered as a puddle in her navel. Selena pulled her forearm out of the yellow-haired girl's cunt, dripping as it was with vaginal juices, and placed her lips and mouth on the well-delineated folds of her labia. The perfectly proportioned clitoris. The two folds of vaginal lips. The vagina itself that was capable of stretching to hold any sized object of approximately the right shape and dimensions. As was the almost equally accommodating anus.

If only real life were like this. Not that this wasn't incredibly realistic. Indeed, in terms of taste, feel, smell and sight, it was actually more vivid and more credible than reality. But the nature of cyberspace is always to be a more lucid, more convincing and more tangible than the real world. And also a lot more accommodating to the fantasies that Selena or any other visitor to cyberspace might have. In the real world, of slow rather than accelerated time, of mundane rather than hyper real sensation, of aches and pains, of people who would not obey her every whim as her short, large breasted girls would do, in that world, Selena was a middle-aged, maybe even past middle-aged, woman, of slightly frumpish appearance, who had given up dying her hair, and whose skin showed only too well the creases of age, and whose waist-line was forever disobedient to her dieting plans.

It was also true that she was a successful scientist, in the unfashionable field of organic chemistry. And blessed by an equally successful marriage, at least in terms of durability. And she earned an income that was the envy of both her peers and her own fat and balding husband. But in cyberspace she was a large breasted lesbian nymphomaniac.

And maybe this image of herself that had evolved over many years of logging in to the virtual world and which she had created for her own pleasure, maybe this image was the real Selena that was hidden behind the thick lens of her glasses and her never very flattering clothes. Maybe she was meant to have enormous breasts, a slim waist, full thighs, and legs that went on forever. Rather, that is, than to have been a plump, grey-haired, middle-aged woman with several moles scattered on her face that grew larger at the same rate as they lost their youthful colour. Which one was the real Selena? Chemistry department Selena? Or sapphic sex goddess Selena? Selena was an expert in chemistry, not metaphysics. She had no answer to questions like that at all.

Selena paused in her lovemaking, and her three lovers paused also, but continued to stroke, kiss and cuddle her in the way she liked so much. Her personal avatars were so perfect. They matched her mood exactly and without question. Climaxing when she climaxed. Relaxing when she relaxed. Never complaining. Always ready and willing. Always there. But at this point the capacity of their Artificial Intelligence reached its limit. There was never any conversation possible beyond that of Selena's sexual desire and their own need to satisfy it. They had no experience upon which they could reminisce. No knowledge on which to pursue a conversation. And their roles were entirely circumscribed by her original intentions when she selected their avatar specification parameters.

So, she was delighted to see Angela, her closest friend in cyberspace, appear in her garden. Angela was not a virtual creation, except in the sense that the full-breasted, long-legged Selena was a virtual creation. Selena had no idea what the real Angela was like. No more than Angela knew about Selena's successful career in academia. The Angela that Selena knew was very slender, almost breastless, smooth-skinned, with a bare vagina and long straight black hair that came down to her buttocks. A contrast indeed to Selena's much more voluptuous virtual identity. And she tasted so very sweet. Her vagina, her small nipples, the ream of her anus, was so pleasant and sweet to the tongue. Quite unlike the rich smells and tastes with which Selena flavoured her body.

Angela was different from a pre-programmed avatar not only by virtue of her appearance. As a real person with her own volition she was able to express herself in ways that were so much her own and not those of her designer. She had her own desires, her own sexual tastes, her own perversions, quite unlike Selena's and somewhat unpredictable. Although she could do what she liked with her own creations, Selena needed to be much more sensitive with Angela. If Angela wanted fisting then Selena could fist her. But if Angela were not in the mood for that, then Selena would have to find other ways to entertain.

And it wasn't only sexually that Selena and Angela could engage with each other, though of course this was the original excuse that had brought the two together. They could also chat and discuss the world and their worries. They could just stroll together, hand in hand, either through Selena's virtual world of gardens, forests and grassland, or, when Selena exchanged a visit, in Angela's virtual world of mediaeval castles and eighteenth century manors. It was on those visits that Selena probably got to find out most about her cyber lover.

The fact that they shared sapphic fantasies was given. After all, it was in a sapphic chat room that the two had first met. This particular chat room, with the cheesy name of 'Women Who Love Women', was actually quite tastefully done. Beautiful velvet curtains and upholstery, huge portraits of women making love to other women, comfortable leather and velour sofas and divans, and, in all this, a milling group of women, or what Selena hoped were women, in their fantasy virtual avatars looking either for as real a love as they could find in cyberspace or just for friendly company.

At first, Selena hadn't been that attracted to Angela. She had no real taste for slim or small-breasted women, but they got to chat by the huge fireplace, just below a portrait of three women enjoying rather extreme sex, and soon found that they had more in common with each other than they had with the other women whose company they shared. A taste in sapphic sex that, although not necessarily sadistic, was still quite refined and cruel. And both of them were pleased that here they were in a world where they could indulge in their sexual fantasies, even to the most extreme prejudice, and it would have no real deleterious consequences.

The nature of Angela's own fantasies was very clear in the choice of sexual avatars that populated her virtual world. These were no nudists, unlike Angela who never wore a scrap of clothing on her virtual body. They dressed in the tightest latex and leather; often with their shaven vaginas or their stern pointed breasts squeezed through the straps and constraints, with the highest stiletto heels at the end of the longest attenuated curved legs. And what Angela particularly liked was for her avatars, when not serving a specific purpose, to be tied up or chained or otherwise constrained in ways where they showed the pain and suffering which they could feel only as distinctly as the pleasure they got when Angela would choose to make love to any of them. Much as Selena enjoyed her time with Angela, her own tastes were rather less dark and disturbing. They might make love together in either Selena's virtual world or Angela's, or even in one of the many other virtual worlds that were freely available in cyberspace, but Selena always preferred to return to the world of her own creation. Angela's obsessions were just a little too dark and dangerous for Selena's taste. Just as Angela found Angela's world a little too kitsch and Disney-like.

As Angela strode towards Selena across the lawn, three of Selena's avatars who were not engaged in pleasuring their mistress made their way to approach her and offer her the kind of loving they had learnt that she enjoyed. At that moment, Angela wasn't interested in sex as such, but she put her arms around two of them, one with purple and the other with jet-black hair. Selena was pleased to see her friend, but it wasn't totally a surprise. It wasn't necessarily that easy to ensure that both she and Angela were on-line at the same time, so she kept a diary of the best times when Angela was likely to log on, so that they had a better chance of meeting up. Angela would never have been as organised as that herself. She tended to drop in unexpectedly at any time, and sometimes logged off abruptly when something or other reminded her that she should be doing something in the real world. And when that happened, her avatar simply vanished without warning. Sometimes mid-sentence. Selena suspected that in the real world, Angela did not have the same level of responsibilities and duties as she did.

"I've just seen that prudish Delia again!" sniffed Angela, as always launching into the subject of her discussion without a preamble. "She was sniffing around the chat room. And when I tried to sniff her tight little cunt, she just fucking brushed me off. God! I hate that stiff little cow! But I did get an invite to her home site and what's more, Selena... "

"Yes?" wondered Selena, as Angela paused for dramatic effect, while the black-haired avatar desultorily stroked her smooth vagina.

"I found out what Delia is in the real world. You'd never believe. Not in a million years."

Selena had to be careful here. She didn't want her suppositions to somehow hint at what she was in the real world. She sensed that Angela would be less than impressed to find that her beloved Selena was a rather busy head of department in one of the less romantic universities of the world. Not that she had any idea whether Angela's own real life role was any more glamorous. "I could never guess, Angela. What is it?"

"She's only a fucking nun! So, in the real world she's some kind of fucking virgin. What do you think? Do you think she's a cyber-virgin too?"

"I'm not sure that it's the same thing. You aren't physically altered by sex in cyberspace."

"That might be so, but it's often much better here than the real world. I can tell you! I was talking to Delia. And I got to ask why she was so reluctant to have sex. You know, why else do you go to a dyke chat room? And she confessed that she didn't want to because she was a nun. And that she'd made her vows. And that she wasn't going to have sex in cyberspace any more than in real space. Fuck! What a hypocrite! If she's so fucking virtuous, what's she doing going into places like 'Women Who Love Women'? And I'm told she's been seen in 'Radclyffe Hall' and 'Femme Fête' as well! So you can't say she's just stumbled in by chance."

"Not very likely," agreed Selena, who recalled the physical manifestation of many of the other avatars in the sapphic chat rooms. Some were extraordinarily strange. The appearances that she and Angela had adopted were relatively modest compared to the women with penises, the women with impossibly large breasts and the women who resembled furry animals. However, not all were outlandish, and several were relatively normal, although their skin was necessarily smooth and immaculate. Delia's avatar wasn't that much out of the ordinary. She'd even chosen to wear clothes. There was a hint of Delia's vocation, though, in her appearance. She had long ringlets of golden hair that cascaded down to her waist and long white flowing robes to her ankle. Slim, tall and very pretty. Just like some kind of angel. All she needed were some wings and she'd be properly appointed.

"Well, anyway, Selena, I got an invite to Delia's home site. Her own little love nest. And she's almost certainly there now. So, let's go. Come on."

"What? Where?"

"To Delia's site. It's called, (you won't believe it?), 'Delia's Home'. How naff can you get?"

Selena blanched. Her site was originally just called 'Selena's Home' before she became more sure of the lie of the land and renamed it 'The Well of Loveliness'. "So. Why are we going to Delia's site?"

"Why? To get inside her prissy little panties. What do you think?" sniffed Angela. "If that coy little cow thinks she can keep me away that easily she's going to find out differently."

Selena sighed. Angela was incorrigible. When she got an idea in her head, she'd obsess about it for ages. She'd often gone on about Delia. Selena had met the woman a few times, but she wasn't the sort of woman she usually went for. She didn't really have the patience for resistance. And anyway, she preferred to see the wares fully displayed, rather than hidden under gowns and cloaks. But Selena remembered Angela's other obsessions. The woman whose avatar resembled some kind of squirrel with a correspondingly huge bushy tail. The woman with all those strange tattoos and chains. The couple of girls who went around together dressed as nurses. This obsession with Delia was no different. But Selena worried about the real woman behind the virtual image. Did Angela really believe that the real Delia, who might even be known as Delia in real life, didn't have feelings and emotions? More likely though, Angela was fully aware of this and actually rather relished the idea of causing damage that would extend beyond cyberspace's altogether too perfect sphere.

The journey to Delia's home site was via the navigation portal that always discreetly followed Selena around her own site. She had chosen the skin of a blue twentieth century telephone kiosk: one of the more commonly selected choices, although Selena had no idea of its significance. Angela selected a destination address which she carried as a bookmark inscribed on the back of her hand, and when the two of them exited the door of the navigation portal, they were in a world which from the first few glances appeared to be quite appropriate for what they knew of the woman.

Angela spun around, her slender girlish figure twirling almost innocently in the brilliance of the bright sun that shone on the well-tended lawns. "This place is a bit like yours, Selena sweetest!" she exclaimed.

"It's got more of a religious theme, though," remarked Selena, though recognising that there was indeed a similarity in the taste for gardens, trees and lawns. But then garden settings were statistically amongst the most commonly chosen site designs in cyberspace. She'd visited quite a few others like this, but not ones with so much marble statuary of the Blessed Virgin Mary and so empty of anthropomorphic avatars. There were a few frolicking lambs and swooping birds in the landscape. Fluffy clouds drifted overhead. There were fountains and flowerbeds and garden benches and other features. Selena suspected that Delia was probably a keen gardener in real life.

"Ooh! Can you hear that?" laughed Angela wandering over to one of the pious statues of the Virgin Mary. "There's some kind of tune coming from it."

"Oh yes! It's 'Miserere' by Allegri, I think."

"You what? I've never heard of that group before."

Selena didn't elaborate. She guessed that Angela might actually rather despise people with too much culture. "All these statues have tunes coming from them!" she commented, noting silently the Bach cantatas, the vocal works of Pergolesi, Palestrina and Pärt, and other devotional music emanating from the gathered marble figures.

"Nothing decent though. Nothing you could dance to," Angela complained. "Anyhow, I can't see any sign of Delia here. She might be in that little cottage there. What do you think?"

Selena nodded. The cottage was the only building in the landscape. Quite small and compact, with a puff of smoke emerging from the chimney above the thatched roof, and pebbledash around the pretty little windows. However, the cottage was empty when the two women got there. This was odd in a way, because most home sites were populated by the avatars of companions, servants or lovers. Only lambs and garden birds appeared to inhabit Delia's site.

"You'd have thought Delia'd have some angels or the like, wouldn't you?" Angela commented.

"Like cherubim and seraphim!" laughed Selena.

"Yeah! Those too!" Angela agreed. "This is one weird place. And hey! Would you believe it! The bitch has got shrines and altars all over the place. Just like a church or something. And here's a bible. And here's a kind of prayer book. And all those pictures. Rather a lot more Virgin Mary than Jesus Christ. 'Cept for him on the cross there. That's one real wicked image. I got one of my avatars to pose like that for a week. It looked really convincing. Blood and everything!"

Selena was rather less keen than Angela on these more extreme fantasies. "You wouldn't think Delia was the sort to go to lesbian chat rooms, would you?"

"I dunno. Some kind of repressed shit. You know. These nuns must be real weird to begin with. No sex or anything. And wearing those funny black outfits. I bet this Delia's just always wanted to fuck women in real life and just been too scared to do anything till she gets to be anonymous in cyberspace. Anyway, in real life, she's probably an ugly cow. No one, male or female, would probably want to touch her with anything shorter than a barge pole. And she spends all day worshipping the Virgin Mary. Well. It's only natural you'd want a taste of what's on offer."