Girl's LOVE

[kiasusam]

Chapter 1 - An Old Friend

She sat there watching the clock.

Tic tic tic....

Waiting for it to hit home time after another day behind the desk. Same routine everyday. Clock in, start to get ahead then the boss dumps another stack of work on her.

Tic tic tic

At least today was fairly uneventful. Nearly an empty office, all the guys were out seeing clients.

Being the only female in the office wasn't as good as it sounded at times. She loved men, but these guys were more like teenage boys then men most of the time.

She was looking forward to the afternoon, she'd won a free massage at the new spa place

She didn't even remember entering a competition but with the internet these days who knows what she clicked on. 'Enjoy a glass or two of champagne as our experience masseuses work away the stress and tension that has built up through your body' read the email. 'Sure sure', she thought, she'd heard such claims before.

Tic tic tic

Finally, time to go.

She headed out to the car, got and drove away from work. 'What a miserable night' as the first spots of rain hit the windscreen. A cold spell had come through, bringing winter with it.

Pulling into the spa she was thankful they had undercover parking.

She went inside, filled out the paperwork enjoying the warmth coming from the fireplace.

'Go into room 3 and strip down to just your undies. Lay on the table and pull the towel over you. Your masseuse will be in shortly.'

'Oh no' she thought. 'Why did I wear a gstring today' she was body conscious at the best of times, let alone having to be in just a gstring in front of a complete stranger.

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She entered the room, it was just as warm with a small fire in the corner. Incense was burning somewhere, filling the room a subtle aroma and gentle music played in the background.

She saw the champagne and poured a glass, taking a long sip before taking her clothes off.

She finished the glass before laying on the leather table, thankful it was almost as warm as the room. She pulled the towel over her back and ass.

She heard soft footsteps enter the room. She hoped it was a female, she was body conscious at the best of times, and only her boyfriend had ever seen her naked.

'Hows the day been?' a soft female voiced asked, as she felt the towel coming off her shoulders and down her back.

[kiasusam]

'Long' she replied as she felt warm soft fingers run down her neck, over her shoulders and down her back, making her shudder a little, still nervous at being exposed.

Warm scented oil was drizzled over and worked into her back, neck and shoulders, gentle at first, with the fingers knowing exactly where her most tense spots were and expertly but almost lovingly working them into a relaxed state. She could feel the stress of the world melting away every second.

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The towel was applied back and lifted off her ass and legs. She didn't care anymore that the only clothing she was wearing was a thin red lace around her hips and disappearing between her ass cheeks. The oil and fingers went to work down her legs, working away all the tension she didn't even know she had.

'Can you spread your legs a little please' she was asked, realising she had them pressed together. Without a word she moved them apart, feeling the warm oil run down her inner thighs, followed by the fingers of the masseuse.

The fingers seemed to move higher every time, and she thought she felt fingers brush her pussy. It sent a tingle up her body, but though it must have been an accident.

Then, she felt it again. Wondering just what sort of spa massage this really was she went to lift herself up as she felt fingers on her neck, stopping her from moving.

'Not yet' the masseuse told her, as she felt her kissing the back of her neck, pausing each time the lips touched her skin. 'You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment' the masseuse said lovingly, continuing to kiss down her neck and back. She laid there enjoying the moment yet part of her mind was in shock. 'Waiting for what?' she thought to herself, not knowing what to do, then she felt something she hadn't felt in years.
The masseuse had kissed her in a place only one person had ever before, suddenly she realised who was the person who had been lovingly massaging her.

She rolled over and saw the face she was expecting, about a few years older than last she saw her.

She once best friend from school and university. 'What? How?' was all she could blurt out, memories flooding back.'There's so much I want to say' the masseuse started, 'but all I can say for now is sorry, I'm so sorry.' Referring the night she had dropped out of uni and ran away.

'I wanted for so long to contact you, I just didn't know how.'

She listened as the masseuse explained to her why she dropped out of her life and off the radar. They had never been a couple in the true meaning, but had always been close and shared a few nights of 'experimenting', but whilst she enjoyed the attention of another female, her heart was always drawn to males, but it had still broken her heart when she left.

Not sure if it was the champagne or the situation as a whole, but she was not really paying complete attention to her words, instead she leaned forward and kissed her, not just a kiss, but held her close and with passion. 'I don't care right now' she stated, before kissing her again. 'just stop talking' as she returned the kisses down the masseuses neck.

'No' the masseuse said 'you're the client here' pushing her down on the table. She laid back as the masseuse kissed down her neck, she could feel the tongue tickling her skin every kiss.....

[kiasusam]

She felt the kisses going down her body, her nipple being kissed before being taking completely in her mouth.

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She felt fingers moving up her leg, wanting them to go higher. 'Ahhhh' as the fingers touched her clit through the lace, rubbing it making her wet.

She felt the kisses moving down her body getting closer and closer to her pussy.

She could feel her friends breath on her pussy as her gstring was pulled away

A tongue touched her clit, send waves of pleasure through her body. She laid back as the tongue moved around the outside her pussy, teasing her while still giving her what she wanted.

'Mmmmmm' finally the tongue moved to her pussy, moving in and out, side to side.

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Each touch sending new waves through her.

'Ahhhhh' she felt a finger moving inside her, as the tongue moved back to her clit. The finger moved around, rubbing the inside of her pussy, until, 'ughhhh' the fingers found the one spot her boyfriend never could.

She came almost straight away as the finger kept rubbing, she barely noticed the second finger going inside, meeting the other one.

She breathed heavily as the kissing off her pussy stopped, wondering why she felt lips pressed against hers, a sweetness on her lips that was her own cum. She got even more as her tongue touched her friends, playing with each other.

She could feel the pressure in her pussy building as her orgasm grew, waiting to be released.

'Aaagghhhhhh'

She couldn't contain it anymore, waves of ecstasy flowed down her body, her pussy tensing around the fingers that were still rubbing the inside of her.

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She moaned as her friend kissed her deeply. Cumming like she hadn't in years, she didn't want it to end.

She felt the fingers coming slowly out of her pussy as she wrapped her arms around her friend.

Sharing a kiss, the only thought running through her mind was hoping this would never end...

[kiasusam]

Chapter 2 - Coat Room

Her lipstick was orange, perfectly spread across her lips, making them look smooth, soft, and full. Something I haven't ever seen on a woman so beautiful before unless she was in a magazine. Dark hair with a little wave to it falling over her shoulders and tan legs that were long with curves that were perfectly fitting to the rest of her body.

I knew I was being a creeper as I sat there and imagined my hands sliding up and down her hour glass figure. I could see a glimpse of the top of her breasts from her low cut yellow V-neck shirt which made my knees weak just looking at them. She looked, as odd as it sounds; like a sexy, yellow-orange sunshine goddess.

I thought it was a very bold look and with her confidence to be so bright was so appealing and luring, that I wanted to be by her. I wanted to kiss her sweet orange lips. I want my breasts to touch hers as I run my hands down her smooth curves, maybe get my hand tangled in some of that gorgeous hair.

Coming back to reality, I looked into her face; she was looking at me and smiling. She had seen me staring at her and could probably read the desire I had all over my face just from looking at her. I managed a small smile back at her and then looked down at my hands in my lap. I wasn't normally shy, but this girl was different. I could feel my face growing red as I glanced back up to see if she was still looking at me.

To my Surprise, she wasn't just looking at me; she had gotten up and was walking over to me. I suddenly sat straight up, sticking my chest out as far as I could to make my breasts look; I don't know, more appealing?

I glanced down at my drink on the bar quickly to see if I could behave nonchalantly. Empty, of course I couldn't. So, not looking back at her, I raised my hand to the bartender for another. My sunshine surprise sat down next to me as the bartender came over to collect my empty glass. I stopped breathing.

"I saw you looking at me. Do you like what you see?" She said in a soft tone.

I smiled, starting to regain some of my confidence. I think I'm sexy; I have a curvy body, big ass, and big breasts. I'm short, but what I lack in peacocking, I make up for in my sass and skills.

"Turns out I am really drawn to you and how well you pull off all these bright colours. Especially your choice in lipstick." I said as charming as I could without choking on my words.

She smiled at me and put her finger to her lips and tapped them. "It's my favourite colour, and seems to attract the right kind of attention."

Oh my, she's talking about me right? My heart skipped a beat and I started to breathe again. Smiling and I'm sure turning red, "I'm Shai."

"Mandi." She said smiling while putting her hand out to shake mine.

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I took her hand in mine and felt a charge go through my body causing me to shift in my seat. I wanted this woman, so not letting go of her hand, I instead lifted it to my lips and kissed it sweetly. It was her turn to look shy. She covered her orange lips to hide her giggle and smile, and this pleased me. The idea of matching her confidence of being bold and forward is exciting to me.

[kiasusam]

Lowering my hand with hers, she placed it on her knee and leaned into to me, placing her cheek near mine and whispered in my ear.

"I am not going to lie; I have been watching you since you came in. Would you like to go to my place where it is quiet?"

Hallelujah, I think I'm in love! Questions raced through my head; do I need to get to know her? Is she a serial killer? Does this woman want a relationship? Does this invite mean to get naked or is this for coffee and I'm reading this wrong?

"Uh?" Was all the smooth response I could think of. I giggled as I leaned back to look at her expression. I needed to see if she was serious. Her expression was very seductive, her eyes were looking straight into mine and she had a sly cool smile on her face.

Without even thinking about it, I leaned in and kissed her plump colourful lips. They were as smooth as I expected. Her lips parted a little and I matched her actions with my own. My tongue gliding across hers, she tasted so sweet, and her movements were soft and gentle. I imagine at this point my lips were orange as well and the idea is thrilling. Her hand is now placed to the back of my head holding it close and tight.

My heart was pounding so loud that I am sure she could hear it over the bass in the music that was playing. She loosened her grip on me and I leaned back again, opening my eyes slowly as if afraid this was all too good to be true. Looking at her now, she had a smug look on her face, sparkle in her eye like the movie cliché. I wanted to keep kissing her but this clearly was not the place anymore because two chicks at the bar seem to draw a lot of attention.

I looked around us and noticed the bartender had stopped working and was just standing there holding what I assume was my refill, and there was all the sudden two men beside us. One had no problem showing us that he was watching us with his straw hanging out of his smiling face hole and the buddy sitting next to him who had his back to us but had his phone raised taking pictures over his shoulder.

"I think you were right, we should get out of here." I said without any concern for my previous questions gesturing to the crowd around us.

That's when she looked around us, seeing everything that I had just seen, she smiled at them all, "Have a great night boys. I know we will." She blew them a kiss and threw a fifty down on the bar. She winked at the bartender and grabbed my hand to lead me off of my stool and away from the bar.

I was impressed that my knees didn't give out on me with how weak she had made me feel. I started breathing deep and hard as the excitement built up inside me. I started thinking about what was to come as she held my hand and was leading me out of the bar to coat check. We stopped in front of the counter and standing behind it was a young man just playing on his phone, clearly bored with his night. He didn't even look up when Mandi threw down her ticket. I started to get frustrated waiting for him to pay attention.

She made a noise in her throat, "I am in a hurry here, our heels are cooling because of you sir." She said to the man. I thought it was sexy as hell and looked her giggling.

He looked up at us from his phone and as he did, she had dropped my hand down to my side and placed her hand on my ass. I put my arm around her and drew her closer to me and kissed her hard. I heard his phone drop to the floor when she placed her other hand on my chest.

I decided I didn't want to wait, the excitement at this point had built to high and I couldn't imagine the unbearable car ride to wherever it is she is living. I parted from her mouth and gently pushed her up against the door to the coat room next to the counter. The man was now leaning completely over the counter out of the room watching us.

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[kiasusam]

Pinned up against the door, I took both her hands in mine and raised them above her head and held them there with one hand against the door. She let out a moan as I started kissing her neck. I ran my tongue up and down lightly across her chest. She lifted her foot and placed it on the door behind her. Making her legs spread apart a little and causing her skirt to rise a little.

Knowing exactly what she was hinting at as I felt her push her pelvis off the door closer to mine. I took my other hand off the door and placed it between her legs. No panties, what a bad girl she is. I could feel how wet she is as I rubbed her clit. She started to moan louder and these moans sent waves through my body. My pussy started pulsing as the excitement from pleasing her was growing.

I started nibbling on her neck, I let go of her hands and she dropped them placing them on my chest. I heard a rip; she had torn my dress to expose my breasts. I didn't care and continued kissing her as I rubbed her clit. Patience running out, I slid my fingers inside her wet pussy. She was so tight, and her moans got so breathy that it sent shudders through my body.

She removed her hand from my chest and pushed me back a little to look at me.

"You are so beautiful and you feel so good, don't stop." She said, her eyes piercing into mine.

I put all my focus on my fingers and started making faster circle motions, pushing and pulling them in and out, fast and faster. She threw her head back and screamed. I started to use my thumb to rub her clit as my fingers made their circles. Her head came back forward and she grabbed the back of my head by the hair and pulled in a gentle way.

Pulling my head went back as her head came down to my chest. With her other hand, she folded my strapless bra down and started licking my nipple. Teasing it and making it hard. The sensation was amazing. I looked down to watch her as she played with my nipple, moaning around it as she was still enjoying my fingers. She placed her beautiful orange lips completely around my nipple and sucked on it.

"Oh my god, that is so sexy." I gasped looking at the colourful ring it was leaving around my nipple.

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She let go of my breast and pushed me away. Causing my fingers to fall out of her pussy, stunned, I just stood there. She took her foot off the door and turned me around so that I was now pinned up against the door. Her eyes were burning into mine with a desired mission as she peeled off her shirt and got down on her knees in front of me.

I looked down at her perfectly round breasts with dark small hard nipples exposed as she lifted my skirt up. She grabbed one of my legs and motioned for me to lift it a little by placing it slightly on her shoulder. She ran her hand up the outside of my leg until her hand reached my ass. She looked up at me and licked her lips.

[kiasusam]

I placed my hand on her head and did exactly what I had dreamed to do earlier. I grabbed a handful of hair and guided her face to my pussy. Her free hand came up and immediately slid them inside me at the same time her tongue touched my clit.

I threw my head back and closed my eyes to let the sensation take over. Her tongue was warm, wet, and moving fast while her fingers were sliding in and out slowly. It was my turn to moan loudly and I wasn't holding any excitement back at this point. I started moving my pelvis in circles as she squeezed my ass and then smacked it lightly.

"Oh yeah! Mmm. Yes!" I basically screamed at her.

I heard a thud and opened my eyes to see the man from the coat closet on the floor. He had fallen off the counter and was now on the floor next to us. Not surprising but his pants where down and his penis out and hard, he had been enjoying the show. The idea of him watching us excited me further. I winked at him when he lifted his face to see I was looking at him, a smile grew across his face as I got louder. She had realised I had gotten slightly distracted and put her mouth completely over my clit and sucked on it.

She didn't even pause when the man hit the floor, but I am assuming she was just that much more so turned on by him watching as I was because she suddenly got more aggressive with her fingers. They started going faster and faster and her tongue was now sliding in and out of my pussy. My body was starting to twitch and I closed my eyes again. She slapped my ass and I let out another loud moan.

My toes were starting to curl and my knees were wiggling. I was losing my strength. She seemed to sense this and keeping her fingers inside me, she moved her head back to look up at me.

"You like that baby?" Are you going to cum all over this tongue beautiful?" She asked in the "as a matter of fact tone"

"Yes! Yes please." I said in a whisper.

The orange was almost gone from her lips and pink was starting to show through. She smiled and put her head back between my legs. Her tongue slid back inside me and started moving like it was vibrating. It didn't take much of that before I felt it in my toes.

"Oh! Fuck! Oh my God. I'm Cumming! I'm Cumming!" I screamed.

She moaned inside me and I could feel the vibrations inside me. Waves of pleasure started in my toes running to my head causing it to fog over. My body started to shake all over as my knees were giving way. She removed her tongue and moaned loudly throwing her back.

"Oh yes! Oh yeah!" She screamed.

I didn't realise it but she was playing with her pussy again while eating me out. I watched her get herself off as I regained my strength. Her expressions were so full of passion and lust. She bit her bottom; now pink, lip.

Another surge of excitement went through my body. I shifted so that she was no longer inside me as I got down close to her on the ground. I pushed her gently backwards, lifting her skirt up completely to expose her belly button. Her breasts had been exposed, her hands flew to each of her breast and she started playing with her nipples. I leaned down and put my face between her legs.

My tongue rolled over her clit in a teasing way. I wanted to make her body shake the way mine had. I put my mouth over her clit and sucked on it. She moaned as I slid my fingers inside her pussy. She was dripping wet; I pulled my fingers out and lifted my face to look at her. She lifted her head to see why I had paused and I licked my fingers and smiled at her.

"You taste amazing." I said teasing her.

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She smiled and placed her hand on the back on my head shoving it hard to bury my face in her pussy. I slid my tongue inside of her and started making circles. Her hips started moving up and down and I felt her ass tighten as she kept trying to lift it off the ground. Telling me she wanted more, she wanted it harder. I shoved my face deeper into her legs wanting to get my tongue in her as far as I could!

[kiasusam]

"Mmm yes, yes, yes. Faster!" I heard her plead.

I moved my tongue so fast I was worried it would ruin my rhythm. That's when I felt it, a pause in her body movements and then a shudder. Her pussy started pulsing around my tongue and the taste of sticking hot cum hit my mouth. My hands dug into her legs as I was determined not to move. I wanted to keep her to cumming as long as I could.

She started to twitch and she let go of the back of my head and I brought it up licking my lips.

"That was amazing." She said through her bit lip, which no longer had any orange on it. I bet it was all over my pussy.

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"Yeah it was! Damn ladies." We hear the young man from the counter say.

He hadn't moved from the floor since he fell. We both looked at the man who was sitting next to us. His pants down, his cock was hard but he wasn't touching it. Looking around him, I noticed his cum all over himself and the floor in front of him.

Smiling at us, "I need a minute before I get your coats."

[fcykeu]

Wa lan eh! With pics & vdo to boot. Pls keep up the good work!Many tks

[cheongmanz]

Keep it up!

[kiasusam]

Chapter 3 - New Beginnings Advance

Hi, I'm Mikki. You might remember me from a week or so ago. I am 24 and I am a lesbian.

I'm a lot surer now than I was last time. About being a lesbian, that is. When I left you back then, I had recently broken my duck with girls and was starting to accept the way my life was going to go. And by "recently" I mean very, very recently. In fact I was in a four-poster bed, plotting and scheming, with my new lover asleep at my side. Do you want to know how I got on? Do you want to know why I'm now almost convinced about my sexuality?

You do? Well thank goodness for that. Let's get on with it.

Dave had attracted me by stealth. Believe it or not, I'd initially mistaken her for a bloke. What an idiot I can be! Okay, she'd been dressed to fit in with an IT department full of nerdy, Star Trek-worshipping men, but it seems incredible that I didn't immediately see her as she really is.

Dave is so, so beautiful the way I see her now.

So there we were, in bed together. It was six-ish Sunday morning, the middle morning of a Bank Holiday weekend. Officially we were having a couple of days as friends, hill walking in the Lake District. Officially we were sleeping in separate rooms above a pub and, apart from a vague promise of messing about in the shower (a promise made by me, emboldened by too much wine), sex wasn't on the cards.

In practice we'd ended up in the massive old pub's best bedroom and the sex had been fucking fantastic.

Excuse the expletive, but . . . It. Had. Been. Fucking. Fantastic.

I wanted more. Lying next to Dave, watching her sleep, I was overcome with emotion. I loved her! I wanted her!! I wanted to be with her, always and forever!!

Last time I vowed to tell the truth in this little romance, warts and all. That still stands, so here goes.

Watching her sleeping made me as horny as hell.

Dave has very short, light brown hair. By day she wears supersized nerd convention glasses, complete with thick black frames. Seen right then, without her specs and totally relaxed . . .

Well, for me there wasn't a sexier sight on the planet.

OMG, I thought, I'm going to do something wild and impulsive.

I consider myself to be sexually inexperienced. To be honest (and keeping to my vow of truth-telling), I have hardly had any experience at all. My wicked intentions were, I feared, off the scale when compared to my abilities. Not that I let doubts get in my way.

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Moving slowly, cautiously I pulled back the bedcovers and feasted my eyes on Dave's tits for a moment. Dave's tits are tiny with the cutest, tiniest nipples. Conscious of my heart leaping and lurching, I lowered my head and sucked at the nearest teat, drawing it into my mouth for a moment then dabbing at it with the tip of my tongue, bringing it erect. Dave moaned but didn't spring awake. Encouraged, I moved on to the other teat. That was already erect but I sucked and dabbed at it anyway.

Dave moaned again when I started to knead her tiny titties. And again when I started to lick and nibble. Getting into it . . . getting really, really into it . . . I clambered on board, straddling her legs, never for a second breaking mouth/boob contact.

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'Mikki,' she sighed. 'That is so good.'

I glanced up, into her eyes. Strictly speaking they are hazel but, depending on the light, they can seem brown or green or amber. Right then they were green, signalling me to keep on going, full steam ahead.

[kiasusam]

So I did.

Time for a brief digression. In case you missed the events of Saturday night, my lust for Dave had been growing over the previous week or two. Me, the straight girl, lusting after her! For her part Dave had been a perfect gentlewoman. Although she had made most of the running between us, she hadn't put so much as a finger out of place.

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Worst luck!

Anyway, we'd spent all Saturday together and a burst pipe had sentenced us to share a bed. I'm not superstitious, not much, but I believe in kismet. If something is meant to happen, it's going to happen, right? With that in mind (not!), abandoning my habitual, iron-like self-control, I'd thrown myself at her and she'd rewarded me with countless cums. To be honest, she'd taught me things about myself; things I'd never suspected. Up until then I'd believed I could only cum at half hour intervals. And I'd believed I was undisputed world champion at making me cum. Dave had proven me wrong on both counts. She'd also proven that my rough and ready efforts could do the trick on her.

Digression over.

Determined to be less clumsy than ever before, I slid down her body, trailing my tongue from her tits and over her smooth, soft tummy. While I dallied, dipping my tongue-tip in and out of her navel, my hands glided down her sides, enjoying the contours of her, not least the shift from thin-ish chest via slender waist to quite full hips.

And I had once mistaken her for a man! Ha!

Dave has a thick bush down there. It's a little darker and quite a bit longer than the hair on her head. And much curlier, of course. Don't think I'm making excuses (I'm telling the truth here, remember?), but it had hampered me that first time. I hadn't coped with it very well at all. My previous experience with pussies had been exclusively with my own. And, as well as knowing myself intimately, I've been clean-shaven for years.

Still determined to be deft and as loving as possible, I positioned myself between her legs and studied the target area. Her labia majora had to be fully engorged. I couldn't recall them being so swollen the night before. Swollen? They were almost visibly throbbing.

Breathless, I inspected more closely. Hair densely covers the outside of her outer lips but the insides are bare. And her inner lips are absolutely hair-free. She has, in my opinion, an utterly beautiful pussy. Her slit is well-defined and the mouth of her vagina is noticeable indeed.

At that moment, studying her, I wondered why I'd been so ham-handed earlier. Everything was where it should be and, even though her clitoris was buried in deep undergrowth, it was obvious where it was located.

I must have been over-excited last night, I thought. I might even have panicked.

Not this time, though. Regulating my breathing, I began with her vagina. Kissing it. Running my tongue around it in a tight little circle. Lapping up the trickle of juice that came out of her. Wanting to thrust crudely but not sure if she'd like that. Desisting. Kissing, circling and lapping instead. At last . . . aeons later . . . concentrating on her labia. Outer set first. Licking and nibbling, not caring whether or not I got pubes stuck between my teeth. Then the inner set. Setting off low, licking and kissing.

'Oh my God, yes!' Dave gasped.

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She orgasmed. No way did she fake it. That was 100% real. There was a stream for me to lap up, not just a trickle.

'Oh my God, my God, yes!

She came again as I lapped and lapped. Aroused beyond all reason, I went back to Dave's inner lips, tracing a line up between them, easily finding her clit.

Not so difficult after all, I thought, trying not to shudder at memories of my earlier blundering around.

Fucking hell, I'd been as incompetent as a man!

[Ericky]

Very good effort and nice thanks

[kiasusam]

We finished off by messing about in the shower . . . as promised. Or rather, Dave finished me off in the shower. Not that that was any hardship. And it was her turn. I'd finished her off a dozen times in bed. At least.

To think at one stage I'd been worried about sharing that shower!

I'm getting delicious shivers thinking back on it. Dave didn't do anything out of the ordinary, but everything she did do was done perfectly. She also dispelled another misinformed belief of mine. Silly me, I'd thought that my tits weren't particularly erogenous.

Ha!

In case you don't know, my tits are quite prominent on my otherwise slim body. Although they're generally admired, neither of my two (pathetic) male lovers paid them much attention. I have paid them a little attention myself, naturally, but with only limited success. Hence the misinformed belief.

Dave's attentions were brilliant. We're both tall (I shade her by millimetres at five foot eight) and our parts meet quite sweetly. She kicked off by insisting she washed my long, auburn hair . . . making a meal of it, using far too much complimentary shampoo. Doing it thoroughly and face to face, ensuring her tiny tits bumped mine again and again. That was arousing enough but then, hair safely rinsed, she coated my body with suds. No, she coated my tits.

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Instant cum!

Knees ever wobblier, I let her have her way with me. Mostly . . . but not always . . . from the front, she lathered me section by section. And there was a pattern to it; I'm sure there was a pattern to it. Legs. Back to tits. Arms. Bum. Back to tits . . .

Dave's hands and mouth were good on me but, when she rubbed her tiny wet tits against mine . . .

By "rubbed" I don't mean the occasional, "accidental" bump, I mean she deliberately pressed up as close as physically possible and grinded herself against me. It was amazing. Absolutely amazing. I didn't even know girls did that!

Wow, I thought. I must have been watching the wrong videos!

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Then, exploiting my defenceless Ness, she pushed me into a corner and lifted my leg, holding it with a supporting hand, keeping me in position. Suddenly we were pussy to pussy, tit to tit. And I was very much on the receiving end. Her short, sharp thrusts took her saturated bush all the way up and down me. Again and again and again.

Another instant cum? You betcha. As far as I can recall, I started and simply couldn't stop.

Of course we did stop, eventually, but that was all Dave's doing. I didn't really have a say in the matter. In fact I was distinctly woozy.

I came round a bit when Dave showed me the time on her mobile. Somehow it had got from 6 in the morning to 8:30. And breakfast was, according to the tariff on the back of our door, "strictly 7-9am".

'Oh bother,' I said, 'I knew I shouldn't have put out that DO NOT DISTURB sign.'

'I strongly disagree,' said Dave. 'And we can still make it. Get your hiking gear on and let's go refuel.'

[kiasusam]

A little earlier I mentioned "plotting and scheming". Please don't read anything sinister into that. I'm not Machiavelli or even Dick Dastardly. I'm a girl who is finally finding herself. A girl lucky enough to have met her perfect match. My intentions that Sunday morning were all loving and not in the slightest bit sinister.

Our weekend together had been agreed in advance: steep hills on Saturday, very titchy mountains on Sunday. After Sunday's trek (and at that point I had no idea where we'd be going), we were setting of for home. On Bank Holiday Monday, Dave was due to be rock climbing.

Boo! Hiss! I didn't want our time together to end, not so soon as Sunday afternoon. I wanted more. More and more and more.

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The outcome of my scheming was this: When we got to the top of the first titchy mountain, I was going to beg her to ditch her climbing session. I was sure that, if we tried hard enough, we could find somewhere to stay for another night. Surely we could. Failing that we could always go back to my place or hers.

And, wherever we ended up, I wanted to spend Monday with her. On Monday, if all went well, I was going to tell Dave how I felt about her.

[kiasusam]

We hurriedly vacated our sumptuous room and its even more sumptuous bed, dumping our bags in the hall and making breakfast with 20 minutes to spare. I had been expecting a cool if not hostile welcome but the waitress couldn't have been nicer. Smiling all the while, she showed us to a table and asked if we'd slept well.

'Like logs,' Dave assured her.

The cheerful waitress told us she'd fetch coffee, tea and toast, after which it was self-service. 'Feel free to have whatever you want,' she said. 'You can go back as many times as you like. And make sure you try the Cumberland sausage. It's to die for.'

'Cumberland sausage is all curled around itself,' Dave said when she'd gone. 'So you can wipe that saucy grin right now.'

'I'm not grinning about sausages,' I replied, 'be they phallic-shaped or not. I'm grinning about us sleeping like logs. I bet I didn't get five hours' sleep all night.'

We could have opted for cereal but, conscious of the need to refuel, we piled plates high with sausage, eggs and bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes and baked beans. Then, after demolishing every last morsel, we went back for more sausage, mushrooms and beans.

'This has to last us to teatime,' Dave said when I hesitated between platefuls. 'Lunch will be a Mars bar washed down with Lucozade.'

I'd bagged the key as we vacated the room. Knowing there weren't any extra charges to pay, I checked us out while Dave took a comfort break.

It was the same receptionist as it had been on Saturday. She seemed to have contracted the same smiling virus as our waitress.

OMG, I thought as she tapped away on her keyboard, she knows what we've been doing! They all do!

Then, smiling a bit myself: So what if they do? I'm proud, not ashamed.

'I'm impressed,' the receptionist said. 'You haven't even added a bar tab.'

'I'm not so virtuous,' I grinned. 'I paid cash for our drinks.'

She printed out a receipt that confirmed we'd already settled in full. 'Did you enjoy your stay?' she asked as she passed it to me. 'More to the point, did you enjoy your night in that four-poster bed?'

'It was superb,' I said. 'The stay and the bed.'

'I dream of spending a night in there myself.' The girl had gone all misty-eyed.

'I suppose it's booked for tonight,' I asked on the off-chance.

'It's booked-up for months. You were very lucky yesterday.'

'Kismet,' I said.

Dave's car was waiting where we'd left it on Saturday morning. We put our travel bags in its small boot and our backpacks on the rear seat. Before starting the engine Dave looked at me closely.

'She fancies you.'

'Who does?'

'That receptionist. She was nearly drooling.'

'Dave,' I said, 'I honestly didn't notice.

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[kiasusam]

And I don't fancy her. In fact I've never fancied another woman in my whole life. Apart from you.'

She smiled at that and we set off, heading uphill, taking the route we'd taken the day before. It was, I have to admit, a lot easier by car than it was on the hoof. Not that I'd suddenly got lazy. I still didn't know exactly where we were going, but Dave had given me some details over the breakfast table.

'It's only about ten miles,' she'd told me. 'There are a lot of ups and downs but the going underfoot is easy enough. We'll be on paths all the way.'

Queried about "titchy mountains", she said most of the ascent happened at the beginning, most of the descent at the end. The most noticeable ups and downs were in the middle where we would be going from peak to peak, conquering seven in all.

I was surprised to see people sitting at some of the tables outside The Kirkstone Pass Inn.

'It doesn't open until eleven,' Dave said as we went by. 'Those are all walkers, having a rest and taking in the view.' Then, as we reached the end of a flattish stretch and started to go downhill: 'Now for The Struggle.'

'What struggle?'

'This hill going down into Ambleside. The locals call it "The Struggle". It's bad enough going down it in a Mini. Imagine fighting your way up it in the olden days. In all weathers. And in a horse and cart, at that.'

'Poor horses,' I said. 'Who'd want to come up here anyway?'

'People wanting slate from one of the quarries, I suppose. And people wanting to go trading in other towns. As well as turning off to Troutbeck and Windermere, you can go straight on to Patterdale and the villages around Ullswater.'

'I'm astounded by the breadth of your knowledge,' I said sincerely. 'I'm an ignoramus when it comes to this part of the world. There again, you are keeping me in the dark.'

'I was keeping schtum because we need to park in Ambleside,' she said patiently, 'and that's not a given. Not at the best of times, and certainly not on a Bank Holiday weekend.'

'Assuming we can park . . .' I prompted

Here's where I confess my memory for names is not immaculate. She told me we were going to (hopefully) do the "something" Horseshoe. I want to say the "Fairground Horseshoe", but it wasn't that. Not quite.

'It's one of the more testing walks,' she said enthusiastically, 'and it's one of the classics.'

'Will I be up to it?' I wondered.

'Of course you will. You sailed up and down that hill yesterday. You have excellent stamina.' Then, perhaps suspecting I wasn't convinced: 'It can be boggy in places, but it hasn't rained in ages, so we'll easily see the areas to avoid. Don't worry, I wouldn't be taking you if I wasn't sure you could do it.'

[kiasusam]

Ambleside was, as Dave had predicted, busy. Busy? The small town was packed. It was also quaint if rather commercial . . . but not at all tacky.

'What's that?' I said excitedly, pointing at a house built on top of a bridge over a stream.

'It's Bridge House. Nowadays it's a National Trust information centre. I think it used to be an apple store.'

'People work in there?' I was amazed. 'Isn't it a bit precarious?'

'It's been there three or four hundred years. It's already come through everything Mother Nature has to throw at it.'

Dave turned into a decent-sized carpark and exclaimed, 'Halleluiah!' as a family of four pulled out of a slot.

'Kismet,' I murmured, casting around, seeing that every other space was taken.

Dave beat me to the pay and display machine and wouldn't accept the handful of coins I tried to press on her.

'Boots on and let's hit the track,' she said.

While I adjusted my backpack I noticed her rooting in the Mini's glove compartment, finally extracting an Ordnance Survey map and a compass on a lanyard. She put the map in her backpack and secured the compass around her neck, in the manner of a school games teacher.

'We won't need either,' she assured me. 'I know the route like the back of my hand.'

'So why bring them?' I asked sceptically.

'Because sudden mists have been known to descend.'

I scowled at that but she was ready for the off. No way was I backing out so away we went, easing a passage through the bustling streets.

Ambleside is, in my opinion, a marvellous place. Every other building seems to be a pub or a restaurant, a B&B or a small hotel. And the bustling pedestrians all had that smiling virus too. The only downside I could find was in those plentiful B&Bs and hotels: every last one of them was displaying a NO VACANCIES sign.

Boo! Hiss!

Fortunately, I knew how holiday areas worked from my two and a half years in Cornwall. If we looked hard enough we would find something, somewhere. Just not there in Ambleside.

Assuming my begging, beseeching and imploring paid off, that was.

Walking in companionable silence, spending more time off the pavement than on, we made our way out of town. Soon we came to an impressive-looking iron gateway. The gates were closed and, judging by the lodge behind them, were protecting a large country estate.

'Here we go,' said Dave, pointing to an almost invisible signpost.

'Are you sure it's a public footpath?'

'That's what it says, isn't it? Come on. Onwards we go.'

We pressed on, starting to go gradually uphill, eventually coming to a kissing gate (where we kissed, naturally!), seeing our first titchy mountain looming ahead of us.

'That's Nab Scar,' Dave said as we broke for air. 'As you can see, the path zigzags all the way up. We won't need crampons and pitons.'
'Klingons?' I echoed, still dizzy from our kiss.

'No, silly, crampons.' She chuckled. 'They're a climbing aid. So too are pitons, although they are frowned upon these days.'

'Climbing,' I said, still holding on to her.

'I've gone right off the idea,' Dave said, her eyes enormous behind her specs. (Don't ask me what colour they were just then; I was hypnotized and in no condition to notice minor details). 'Know what?' she resumed. 'If I didn't think you'd had enough of the outdoor life, I'd call it off tomorrow. Try to get you to stay here with me for another night.'

[kiasusam]

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'I will, I will!' I was almost babbling in my excitement. 'Let's have another night. Please let's.'

She grinned at me. 'My, you sound keen.'

'I am keen!' I hugged her even tighter. 'I was going to ask you. When we got to the top of . . . of . . .'

'Nab Scar?'

'Yes. I was going to beg and beseech you for another night. And I don't care if we can't find a proper bed. I'll sleep with you in a tent, if that's what it takes. I . . .' I stopped abruptly, on the verge of spilling out my feelings prematurely.

Dave didn't seem to notice. Or maybe she pretended not to notice. 'We can try Keswick,' she said. 'Keswick is twice the size of Ambleside. And it's about as touristy as you get in the Lake District. I'm sure we'll find somewhere to rest our weary heads.'

We walked on and, while I can't answer for Dave, I was walking on air. Steep gradient? Huh, not that I noticed.

Being truthful as always, I don't remember a lot about that outing. Oh, I remember talking and talking and talking. I just don't remember what we talked about. That was a mutual boon and a mutual failing, I suppose. We're both people persons and natural conversationalists. Or, if you prefer, born windbags, capable of jumping from subject to subject without pausing for breath or thought.

I do remember stopping atop Nab Scar, reminding Dave that this was the site of my planned begging and pleading. She'd looked at me curiously and said, 'You don't have to if you don't want to.'

'Sleep with you,' I said, aghast. 'I do, I do, I do.'

'I don't mean that,' she said levelly. 'Look, you were brilliant last night and even better this morning. But I'll do all the loving if you like. You don't have to live any lies. Not with me.'

'Was I that ham-handed?'

'No! As I said, you're brilliant. I just want us to be open and above-board about everything.'

'I thought you could be both Dave and Davina in bed,' I said, somewhat slyly.

'I can be,' she admitted.

'And does Davina like it as much as Dave does?'

'Yes, she does. More so, if anything.'

'So we're equal in all respects,' I said. Then, unsure if I was going too far, 'I love the taste of you.'

'In that case we really are equal in all respects. Come on, we'd better get moving if we're going to get to Keswick before teatime.'

[kiasusam]

We had started off on paths running through land covered by short, very green grass. Then, as we ascended, grey rock began to break through. And then, as we jumped up and down from peak to peak, we began to see scree. And cairns. Every peak top seemed to have at least one cairn.

Don't ask me our route. I remember Nab Scar and (I think) Heron Pike but, apart from that first one, couldn't tell you which was which. Dave could, of course; she seemed to know every inch of the way intimately. She didn't refer to her map or compass once.

'This is the point of no return,' she told me as we stood on a flattish summit, admiring yet another view. 'It's as far back as it is to go on. Time for our Mars bars and Lucozade.'

That really is as much as I can remember. We didn't fall into any bogs, I'm sure of that. And I didn't break down through blisters or fatigue, I'm sure of that too. Looking back I think that pure, completely fresh air and being together acted on me like a drug. It must have. That was and will always be the best day of my life . . . and I can't remember the details!

Maybe it was too good? Maybe remembering it clearly would blow all my circuits?

Maybe some things are too perfect to properly recall?

I secured somewhere to stay while Dave drove us to Keswick. Thank the Lord for mobiles . . . especially the smart ones. Mine was smart enough to fine somewhere central with resident parking. I couldn't have done it on my own. And I certainly couldn't have done much trudging up and down streets, knocking on doors. I'd survived the horseshoe but my feet were tingling and close to self-combustion.

Interestingly, the BB had only asked for my name and details. I asked for a double room with a double bed, described Dave as "my girlfriend" and . . .

Well, the site accepted us without question.

Chuffed, believing this traditional part of the world was moving with the times, I gave Dave the good news.

'Let's see how the landlady greets us,' she said, in gloomy tones of previous experience.

As it happened the landlady met us with a beaming smile and open arms. 'Here it is,' she said, opening the door to our room. 'Is it all right for you?'

It was small compared to Saturday's digs, but clean and well-presented. We both dutifully said it was ideal.

'Breakfast is seven until nine,' she informed us. 'I lock the front door at ten, but you can have a key if you want to stay out later.'

'I think ten is plenty late for us,' said Dave. 'We've covered quite a lot of ground today.'

'Haven't we just,' I agreed.

'We have a bar,' the landlady went on. 'It doesn't open until seven thirty, after my partner gets home from work. The good news is that we're residential; we can stay open as long as we like.'

'Shower?' I suggested as soon as we were left alone.

Dave grinned. 'Together?'

'But of course.'

[kiasusam]

Keswick has lots of pubs, all of them traditional and over two hundred years old. And all of them were booming that evening. Resisting the temptation to dive into the nearest watering hole, we agreed that breakfast had happened far too long ago; food had to come first. And, as there was a curry house only yards away from our BB . . .

'Do you think I'll get a carnation?' Dave said, grinning.

'You can have mine if they miss you out,' I said, grinning back at her.

The meal followed the pattern set the night before: we ordered two courses and shared our starters, feeding each other off our own forks.

'So,' Dave said as we waited for our mains, 'what do you want to do tomorrow? More walking or something different?'

I leant over the table and said, sotto voce, 'I want to spend the day in bed with you.'

'Sounds good, but we have to be out of our room by eleven. Think of something else.'

'I don't know what goes on around here. You'll have to give me a clue.'

'River rafting,' she began. Then, chuckling at my expression, 'There's the Cumberland Pencil Museum . . .'

'Get out of here.'

'No, honestly. They used to make the best pencils in the world in Keswick. I bet your teacher taught you how to draw with them at school.'

Come to think about it, she had. Well, she'd tried. I haven't a lot of talent for painting and drawing. Matchstick men and women were as far as I ever got. 'And they have a museum?' I asked.

'Yes. They've moved production somewhere else. The museum's all that's left.'

'Hmmm. Let's get leaflets from one of the pubs. We can make a more informed choice when we know all the options.'

'Leaflets?'

'Fliers, then. Surely they have fliers. You can't move in Cornwall for racks of fliers. The Eden Project. Paradise Park. The Minack Theatre . . .'

'There's not much adventure in that little lot. Didn't you ever go walking or surfing?'

'I did the Camel Trail and loads of cliff top walking. I never tried actual surfing, but I was practically sponsored by Fat Willy's Surf Shack.'

'Mmmm,' said Dave. 'I'd just love to see you dressed as a surfer chick.'

We didn't bother with sweets that time and the waiter didn't bother with carnations (I don't think it was anything personal; they simply didn't seem to follow the practice). As I mentioned, the nearby pubs were booming. We checked a couple out and had a few beers, gathered up some fliers and decided to hit the hay. By then it was going on nine o'clock.

'One for the road?' Dave suggested as we approached the BB.

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I shrugged. I like a drink as much as the next girl but, at that moment, I would have opted for sex. 'Do you really want another,' I said, probably sounding peevish.

'I want to see the landlady's "partner",' she explained. 'I have a theory.'

Well, hats off to Dave. I don't seem to have any gay bar at all, but hers certainly works. It wasn't a guy running the bar, it was very much a gal.

[kiasusam]

Thirty-something (making her at least 10 years younger than her lover), she had frizzy, red-blonde hair and challenging green eyes.

'Welcome,' she said. 'You must be Room 5. Shall I do you a tab?'

"One for the road" turned into four. And Clarissa (the frizzy red-blonde) turned out to have a black belt in being talkative. Girl oh girl, could she talk! She was hardly overworked . . . there were only four other customers in the room . . . and was the sort of person it was difficult to ignore. Windbags or not, we did more listening than speaking.

Claire (the landlady) had owned the BB for 20 years, inheriting it off her gran. She had been married for a while but her husband had "run off with some cockney tart". Clarissa had booked in five years ago . . . "I was burning off adrenalin at an outdoor centre" . . . and "I've never booked out again".

She had laughed and said she wasn't a gold-digger. She'd somehow "wangled a job" at the outdoor centre and worked there still, 6 days a week. And she thought herself lucky to be covering the bar while Claire did "all the hard work". "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect wife," she'd assured us, flashing a wedding band.

The sex was even better than ever that night. Dave excelled herself and I more than held my end up (I hope!). I won't bore you with the grizzly details but, surprising and delighting me, my lover proved she wasn't averse to penetration at all.

Afterwards, with her on her back and me on my side, staring at her face and gently stroking her tummy, we talked intimately.

'You are so, so beautiful,' I told her (you may have noticed I told her that once or twice before, and it is true: she is so, so beautiful. I'm not going to apologize for being repetitive on that score).

'Clarissa and Claire,' Dave said dreamily. 'How sweet is that?' Then, stifling a yawn, 'Do you think you'll ever be so lucky? To find a job you love and settle down with a woman you love?'

'Only if that woman is you,' I replied, blushing furiously.

Dave snorted half a laugh and closed her eyes.

'Well done,' she said, sounding drowsy.

'What for?'

'For finding the only lesbian guest house in Allerdale.'

'It wasn't me,' I protested, 'it was kismet.'

'Well done kismet, then. Night-night.'

I kept on staring and stroking, watching her breathing slow and become regular. Then, when I was sure she was in the land of nod, I leaned in and kissed her eyelids, one by one.

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'I love you, Dave,' I murmured. 'I love you more than life itself.'

'Me too you,' she countered. 'Now go to sleep. We've another busy day ahead of us.'

[kiasusam]

Bank Holiday Monday couldn't have started worse. I woke to the sound of the Dr Who theme tune and Dave cursing as she emptied her travel bag onto the carpet.

Still bleary with sleep, I struggled to work out what was going on. We had agreed over Friday lunchtime pints that mobiles were a no-no this weekend. Mine had only been on for a matter of minutes while I booked the BB. And Dave's state-of-the-art contraption had I Only Want To Be With You as its ringtone.

As I watched she snatched up another phone and barked into it: 'What?'

Her expression went from anger to despair and then rueful acceptance.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' she said after ringing off. 'Oh Mikki, I'm so sorry.'

'What is it?' I asked, alarmed.

Sitting on the bed, holding my hand, she explained. IT techies have a rota which puts them "on call" out of working hours. "On call" meant they could be summoned by work at any time. Nine times out of ten the call never came, and it was extra money for old rope. And they had Dial cards, because the call could come from anywhere in the UK ("I'm taxed to Hell and back on it, but I get free private mileage, so it's cheaper than paying for petrol").

Bank Holiday Monday was Dave's turn to be on call. Other techies had covered Saturday and Sunday. She'd forgotten all about work when she suggested an extra day.

And now the worst had happened.

'No getting out of it?' I ventured.

'No. I took their blood money, now I have to deliver.'

'Where's the call out? Back at base?'

'No such luck. It's the new mega store in Bristol. The one near Temple Meads. You know, the one that opens tomorrow.'

'Can't they sort it out remotely?'

'They've been trying all weekend. It needs a woman on the ground.'

'Fuck,' I observed.

(By the way, I've just realised my language so far has not been ideal. Please accept this as a "sweep-up" apology. I'll try to say sorry each time I lapse from hereon in).

Trying to look on the bright side, I squeezed her hand. 'Less than twenty-four hours to save the Earth. Flash had best get in gear.'

'I hope I'm more like Dale Arden than Flash.' Dave held up a hand. 'Don't answer that. Look, it's almost seven. Let's get breakfast then get out of here.'

The drive back to West Yorkshire was, to say the least, sombre. At one point I wondered when Dave would make it to Bristol.

'I need to go home and change,' she replied. 'Pack a new overnight bag . . . but traffic shouldn't be too bad. Three o'clock, say.'

With my dad behind the wheel I'd done the trip to Cornwall lots of times. Lots and lots of times. We'd once done Bingley to Padstow in five hours. There again, at the height of the season, we'd once done Bingley to Penzance in fifteen hours. Bristol is about halfway and, I reckoned, Dave was right: she'd have as clear a run as she'd ever get. If there was any Bank Holiday traffic it would be headed north, not south west.

'I can't tell you how bad I feel,' Dave said as she pulled up outside my poky flat.

'So don't tell me,' I told her. 'I've had a longer, even more wonderful weekend than I ever expected. And we can see each other again, can't we?'

'Of course we can,' she said quickly, before my unformed fears could become apprehension. 'We can go away again as often as you like. And, in the meantime, we've got our own pads, haven't we?'

'My pad tomorrow night?' I wondered.

'Assuming I've saved the Earth and we're all still here.' She smiled at me. 'I do believe I love you, Mikela.'

I returned her smile. 'Me too you.'

[kiasusam]

The rest of Monday was no less disastrous. Seguing smoothly into warts and all mode, I must confess I mooched about a bit, unable to settle. If I'd had a cat I'd have kicked it (not really, I hasten to add!). Eventually, snarling under my breath, I went to the Co-op and bought not one, not two but three bottles of Burgundy. I'd almost finished the first bottle when I received Dave's text.

I'M HERE. NOW 4 IT!
WISH ME LUCK AND
X YR FINGERS.

Flicking through TV channel after channel, finding little to tickle my interest, I half-heartedly plumped for Monsters Inc. And was unexpectedly captivated. Trust me, I don't usually have time of day for computer-generated films. Usually, as far as I am concerned, real-life is okay but cartoons are best. Disney (think Jungle Book), Top Cat and Tom and Jerry (especially the older, more violent ones). And Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, of course. I'm Yorkshire born and bred, but I know class when I see it.

Monsters Inc. was class. Maybe that second bottle of red helped, but I loved it. I was even thinking words like "pathos" and "sympathy".

Dave rang when I was into the third and final bottle. 'Sorted,' she said gleefully. 'Well, cobbled together, anyway. The tills work and so do the telephones. That'll get us through the grand opening.'

'Brilliant,' I slurred. 'Will you be home tonight?'

'No. It's after eight and I have lots of fine-tuning to do. One of our techs effect​ up with credit card payments once in a situation like this. He left it so everything looked like payment had been made . . . except it hadn't. Cost the company thousands, that did. No way am I making the same mistake.'

'So you'll be back tomorrow?'

'I dunno. I've tests and all sorts to make. And I can't do them until the branch has closed. It's looking like two night's in a Travelodge for me.'

I wished her goodnight (I think), then abandoned my latest large vino and hit the sack.

Two minutes later, or so it seemed, my alarm roused me. I'm lucky with hangovers (rarely getting one) but do admit to a certain fragility that Tuesday morning. Refreshed by a cold, not-quite-icy shower, I was in the office early as always.

For anyone who has forgotten, I work in Credit Control for a nationwide company. Put simply, we make and sell gizmos into the construction sector. And, constructors being constructors, lines of credit are a must. My job was to keep the valued customers as near as possible to terms without rocking too many boats.

A fine balancing act? Put it this way, I know exactly how Karl Wallenda must have felt on his high-wire.

The morning got off to an inauspicious start when Chris arrived. Chris is about my age and has made no secret of the fact he fancies me. Mildly attracted myself, I'd put him in a slot marked "Maybe Next Christmas". Then I'd met Dave and shifted him to "Maybe the Twelfth of Never".

'Have a good time in the Lakes?' he said in greeting, grinning.

Slightly taken aback, I scowled. Scowling is, I've always believed, a great default mode, much more gracious than gasping or gaping.

'The Kirkstone Pass,' he persisted. 'I was on my way to Ullswater.'

'What a small world,' I managed, mentally damning the internal combustion engine.

'I didn't expect to see you there,' he continued. 'Especially not with her from IT. I'd have stopped and bought you both a drink, but the carpark was full.':(

[kiasusam]

'What a Godawful shame I said,' with no pathos or (self-) sympathy at all.

'You know she's . . .'

'I know Davina is the loveliest person I've ever met,' I said, butting in. 'If only everyone was so nice.'

That morning seemed to be full of grouchy customers, frustrated salesmen and (much more verbal) frustrated saleswomen. Keeping professional at all times, I somehow got through it. Then, an hour before lunch, an e-mail arrived.

I looked at the address. It was in the standard company format but began with "bristolcent". Our existing branch in Bristol began "bristolpatch". While I dithered, wondering if it was a scam, my landline rang.

'Hiya, Mikki. Have you got my email?'

It was Dave. She'd sent me the email as a test and needed to know if it had safely made its way through the ether.

'Yes,' I said.

'Yippee! That's as far as I can go with the branch open. But it's good news.'

I smiled. Talking to Dave always made me smile. 'The opening went well, I take it?'

'Like a dream. They had this Cornish comedian up to cut the tape. I can't remember what they call him, but all his stories began, "This guy down St Just . . ."'

'I know who you mean,' I said. 'I can't remember his name either, but he can make me laugh until I cry. And when are you back?'

'Tomorrow lunchtime, all being well. I need to do two or three hours tonight. It'll be too late to set off after that.'

'And,' I whispered, 'will you sleep with me tomorrow night?'

'Mikki darling, I thought you'd never ask.':rolleyes:

[CraneDriver]

Do continue TS

[kiasusam]

I was surprised when Joyce, my team-leader, collared me at 10 to 12. Joyce is perhaps 40 and nothing if not tactful. She's also . . . well, artistic. God only knows how she ended up working in "Finance", but she's good at it. Perhaps that's because she's another of us people persons. But she's not the sort to strike up a random conversation bare minutes before lunch.

Not normally.

Joyce's subject was . . . incredibly . . . my weekend. Mysteriously, she also knew I'd been in the Lakes, although she hadn't been there herself. In fact she hadn't been there for years.

I studied her as she gesticulated at me, seeing rings on every finger, bangles and wrist bands too numerous to count. Age aside, it was easy to imagine her as an art student in Newquay or St Ives; one of those free spirits who charge a pound or two to paint little girls' faces or nails. A direct descendant of the hippies who had infested Cornwall in the 60s and 70s. Not that her predecessors would have charged as much as a whole pound . . .

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Then her right tit slipped out.

'Oops,' she said, tucking it away again. 'Where was I?'

Gobsmacked (another of our quaint Yorkshire sayings), I took in her attire. Joyce tended to dress the same for work, day in, day out. Black skirt, white blouse. No change there . . . except that day she'd undone a few buttons. And where oh where had her bra gone? Come to that why, precisely, did she keep leaning over my desk?

'I understand you have issues with the Huntley account,' she said out of nowhere. 'Call it up. Let's have a look.'

Okay, she was the boss. I called up the account in question, grateful it was in as good a condition as it had been in weeks. 'There's less than a grand overdue,' I said. 'And all of it is individually queried. If they dealt with just one branch instead of 30, there wouldn't be any problems at all.'

'Flipping queries,' Joyce said. 'Which branches are dragging their heels now?' She leant even farther over the desk, twisting her body so she could see my screen. Rather predictably, her left tit slipped out.

'Oops,' she said, clearly not giving a toss. And not hurrying to tuck herself away. 'Clumsy me.'

[kiasusam]

Lunchtime was lonesome one without Dave. Then I got a text.

FIXED IT, AS GD AS!
HOME TMRW. CU 4
LUNCH. CAN'T WAIT.

Relieved and refreshed, hangover forgotten, I looked around me. Attempting to be scientific, trying to answer questions I'd been asking myself a while, I assessed the sexual attraction of my fellow canteen inhabitants.

Take note of my words: I assessed the sexual attraction of my fellow canteen inhabitants . . . in a scientific sort of a way.

Okay, so I majored in English Lit. I know infinitely more about George Eliot and the peerless Jane Austen than I'll ever know about Lister and Crick. But I could apply scientific principles. And (hopefully unobserved), I did.

First up was the canteen manager. Tall . . . 6' 4 at least . . . he has short-cropped ginger hair and looks quite athletic. Not athletic enough to pass, though. Dismissing him as unfit for purpose, I moved on.

3 female canteen staff. The youngest is blonde, bubbly, and decidedly attractive. Almost certainly straight, she gets picked up by her boyfriend outside work every day. Not bad at all, I concluded. No way would I kick her out of bed.

(A brief aside: in my neck of the woods the statement, "I wouldn't kick her out of bed," is used in more ways than one, ranging from admitting sincere admiration to curmudgeonly implying any girl would do in a pinch. I, of course, use it sincerely.)

Next in age is Debs, who might be twenty-five. Debs looks a bit like Christina Aguilera and probably has an active sex life. Also not bad. I wouldn't kick her out either.

The 3rd one, Becky, is maybe 28 with a mane of black curls. She's on the short side and has a figure I'd describe as "dumpy". She has, however, eyes like blue diamonds and tits which enter a room minutes before the rest of her.

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Mmmm, mmmm, I thought, Becks is better than a bit of all right.

Then I shook my head. In my tiny little word I was only allowed to fancy Dave. Men didn't count and girls shouldn't feature at all.

I'm only doing what-ifs, I told myself sternly. It's fun and completely harmless . . .

Determined to complete my preliminary research, I cast around the dining hall, assessing everyone, male and female, young and old, storing the results in my head.

[kiasusam]

That afternoon passed smoothly. Our valued customers weren't so grouchy, the salesmen and saleswomen weren't so frustrated. Punctuated as it was by our monthly team brief (Joyce managed to contain her chest whilst briefing us), I sailed through it.

Glad to be out in the open, wishing the air was a sweet as it had been in Ambleside, I made my way to Keighley railway station, smiling as I arrived on Platform 1. The station has four platforms. Two of them are on the main line, connecting places like Leeds and Bradford with places like Skipton, Morecambe and Carlisle. The other two are the terminus of a heritage railway that runs authentic steam trains between Keighley and Oxenhope (via the capital of Bronte country, Haworth).

Please don't put me down as a train spotter or rail buff, but I love the contrast between the modern platforms and the old ones. The modern ones are spartan, with no avoidable expense ever having been spent. The heritage ones are majestic, well-maintained and feature floral displays worthy of awards at the Chelsea Flower Show. Period films and TV shows have often featured them. And, of course, the heritage line itself starred in the 1970 version of The Railway Children (admittedly before my time, but regularly shown on the box, even now).

My train arrived shortly after I did. It was a brand-new one, but I wished it was powered by steam.

Two stops and a short walk later I was in the fish and chip shop, buying my evening meal. Two minutes after that I was home, washing it down with the remains of yesterday's wine. Then, feeling sweaty and grubby, I decided a shower was in order.

Warts time again. I masturbated under the jetting water, concentrating on my clit and hood, thinking about Dave all the while. Taking my time about it, I built and built and built until I finally went off like a volcano. Then, towelling myself dry, I retired to the bedroom to continue my research.

Men, I thought. Can I even touch myself while thinking about men?

I couldn't. I could when thinking about girls, though. Gently stroking as I pictured the bubbly blonde. Easing in a couple of fingers into my pussy as I drooled over Debs. And frantically frigging myself imaging Becky on top of me, her pneumatic tits crushing mine . . .

Cumming even more volcanically.

Okay, I concluded, recalling a definition I'd seen of "lesbian". I'm in love with Dave but I'm also capable of lusting after other women. I definitely qualify as lezzie on that score. But men . . .

Can I conclusively say men are ancient history?

I opened my bedside drawer and fished out my one and only sex toy. A fellow bar worker, Sue, had given me it as a twenty-third birthday present. She'd gift-wrapped it in a large box, using padding to make it rattle-proof.

'Here you go, maid,' she'd said in her Cornish way. 'I'd open it in private if I were you, mind. And let me know if you need showing how it works.'

I wonder if she was disappointed when I didn't ask for a demonstration. Perhaps she'd hoped for a threesome with me and the toy. Perhaps she thinks of me as "one of they tight northern cows with no spirit of adventure".

Sue's present is a dildo in tasteful green. I've used it many times, always successfully. Up until that Tuesday evening I had not, however, used it when thinking about men. So . . .

Purely in the interests of scientific research, I pushed my toy against me. It slid in easily but I hesitated. Who to think about? Not either of my two (pathetic) male lovers. So who, then? The canteen manager? No thanks. A film star or sporting hero? No, not in the least bit realistic. So who?

[kiasusam]

After some debate I settled on Tommy Smith, a friend from school. He hadn't got his shag on our one close encounter (I lied about the time of the month, remember?), but I had given him a hand job. And, although it wasn't green, his cock had been of a similar size and shape as my dildo . . .

(Confession: That last claim was just me, reassuring myself. I'm sure Tommy's cock isn't green but otherwise, at a distance of 6 years, I've no recall of what it actually looked like!)

Surprisingly enough, I could focus and fuck (sorry!) at the same time. And excitement built up inside me at the usual rate. Snag was, I just couldn't cum. Not while thinking about Tommy, anyway. Obviously psychological, you may say. Obviously, I would have to agree. Eventually, after trying my damnedest, I tossed the toy onto the carpet.

'Dave,' I murmured, feeling for my G-spot.

Cumming inside 30 seconds.

'Definitely lezzie,' I assured myself as I lay there, basking in the afterglow. 'Maybe so ever-so-slightly bi.'

I can't explain the relief I felt at knowing that. Okay, I want to be with Dave forever but nothing is set in stone, is it? And Dave has had plenty of relationships before. Plenty of relationships and plenty of breakups. We might be one angry word from . . .

From . . .

Well, I told myself, if we do ever break up, I'm capable of finding someone else. Someone female and fun.

I passed time thinking about types of females. The lesbians at uni came in all shapes and sizes. Some of them had been quite scary. Hell, some of them made themselves as scary as possible. Could I go with someone so purposefully butch? I wasn't sure. The canteen staff were . . . manager excluded . . . comely and feminine. But Dave was regularly mistaken for a bloke . . .

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In the end I decided I'd wait and see. Hopefully I wouldn't be looking for a replacement any time soon. If and when the need arises, I thought, I can always go for character.

Then, realising I was horny again, I resumed my research. My neighbouring lunchtime table had been occupied by four youngish women. In my opinion two of them were good-looking, one was glamorous and the other was simply gorgeous. The masturbatory potential there was massive.

But wait, wait, wait. What about Joyce? That tit-flashing routine just had to be deliberate. Was it inspired by my weekend with Dave? Was my line manager suddenly seeing me in a bright new light?

I closed my eyes and imagined Joyce as a child of the 60s. Bra-less, naturally, with braided hair under a massive floppy hat. Beads everywhere. A short, caftan-style dress with full sleeves. Barelegged and barefoot, ankle bracelets with quirky bells completing the image.

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OMG, I thought, reaching for my clit, I'm going to finish before I've even started!67665

[kiasusam]

Wednesday evening. Dave was back. She'd been waiting for me in the canteen at lunchtime. I welcomed her home with a big sloppy kiss, not caring what others might think. Flushing but grinning, she finally fended me off.

'I've missed you too,' she said, 'but honestly . . .'

There had been no train journeys that evening and, as yet, no fish and chips. I had met Dave outside IT at five thirty and she'd driven me straight to mine. And then I'd dragged her straight into my bed.

Now, after two hours of bliss, our initial burst of passion was spent. I asked Dave about her day and she said it had been easy. Apparently, techies on call run up time in lieu as well as decent rates of overtime. She'd woken at eight, breakfasted in her Travelodge and then taken the M5, M42, M1 route north, arriving in Keighley at quarter to twelve. Then she'd updated her gaffer, lunched with me and gone to the gym.

'I popped back in for a couple of hours,' she said, 'to clear my emails before giving you a lift. I don't like clearing emails when I'm on the road. I tend to delete first, ask questions later.'

I suggested tea/dinner/supper and she laughed. 'There's something I want to do first.'

'Oh yeah?' I grinned.

She got off the bed and retrieved her handbag. Except it was more like a shoulder bag than a handbag. I have to say it was out of character because I hadn't seen her with any sort of bag before . . . not apart from backpacks and travel bags.

'Have you ever seen one of these?'

I studied the item in her hand. It looked like a red dildo but it had a bulbous sort of extension at a right angle to it.

'No,' I admitted. 'What is it?'

'It's a strapless strap-on,' Dave explained. 'This is the pony end.' She pointed to the bulb bit. 'I put that in me and rely on my Kegel muscles to hold it in place.'

'That sounds a bit optimistic.'

'I've practiced.' Dave had the decency to blush. 'I haven't actually used it, but I've practiced quite a lot.'

I had a big void in my stomach. Even though I was unsure if I was excited or afraid, I raised a grin. 'Tell me about this practice.'

'I've worn it while I've done housework.'

'What? Naked with that stuck in you?'

'Yes. And stop laughing.'

'I can't help it. I'm picturing you with a big red hard-on, feather duster in hand. What would you have done if Jehovah's Witnesses had knocked at your door?'

'Ha, ha, ha, Mikki.'

'Didn't it drop out?'

'Not even once.' Dave hesitated. 'If you must know I have my doubts. That's why I brought a harness as well.'

'It fits in a harness?' I gulped. 'Look Dave, I haven't ever tried anything like this before. I might disappoint you.'

'I want to make love to you,' she said softly. 'I want to be loving and tender with you. I want to prove that I'm better than any man you could ever have.'

'Okay,' I said, swallowing another gulp. 'If you put it like that . . .'

Dave more than proved her worth. She was amazing . . . wonderful . . . marvellous . . . pick your own superlative. Having her on me, loving me like that was almost miraculous. If I tried to compare her to the two men in my life I'd die laughing. She was so many times better it was unreal.

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And she was tireless! I came quite quickly but did that stop her? No it did not. She pressed on and on and on, driving me from one cum to the next. Again and again and again. I hung on in there as long as I could but eventually . . . for only the second time in my life . . . my body had had enough. I flaked out. I remember yelling, 'Yes, yes, yes! Proper job!' And then . . .
Nothing.

Nothing until I came round, staring up into Dave's incredible eyes.

'Davina,' I gasped. 'That was awesome. I love you, love you, love you.'

She smiled back at me and said the magic words.

'Me too you.'

[kiasusam]

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It's now Friday, over a week since Dave shagged me into oblivion. We've slept together most nights in-between and will do so again tonight, but we haven't used her toy again. Not yet.

I'm chuckling as I write this. I had taken Dave's tireless performance as testimony to her devotion to me. In fact I had believed that, for the first time ever, I'd been fucked (sorry!!) by someone who cared about my orgasm ahead of all else. Men care only about themselves, don't they? No? Well, the two I've known do, anyway. Dave, however . . .

Dave wasn't so altruistic after all. That toy of hers gives as much to the user as it does to her happy victim. The pony extension is designed to rock against the user's G-spot and cunningly placed ridges rub against her clitoris. Fucked (sorry!!) as I was missionary style, I got seven inches of "horse" in me while Dave's hairy pubic mound rubbed up my clit.

Win-win either way, if you ask me.

I found out about the dual-action element by doing some practice for myself. Not that I've worn it for the housework. I tend to tidy up after myself as I go, so housework doesn't really mount up for me. Okay, if you must know, I wore it during my weekly vacuuming earlier this evening. Otherwise I've trialled both ends alone on my bed. And I like it. I'm ready to be the driving partner . . . and just as well, because tonight is the night.

What else has happened over the last ten days? Well, I've learnt that I'm not just attracted to other women, I'm attractive to other women too. At work word has obviously got out about me and Dave and, rather than getting negative feedback, I've been getting approving nods and one or two words of encouragement.

Joyce definitely does fancy me, by the way. She's taking me on a "customer visit" on Monday. Now customer visits are few and far between. This one will be my first and it's in Brighton, of all places. We're going to have to overnight, so goodness knows how that will turn out.

Back on the words of encouragement front, I'm now on warm terms with one of my lunchtime neighbours, the glamorous one. And Becky from the canteen staff has never been so smiley. Yesterday, when Dave was in Stoke fixing something technical, Becks looked me in the eye and said she'd dreamed about me the night before.

'Did you?' I replied innocently.

'Oh yes I did,' she said. 'Three times!'

Tonight I'm going to break new ground. Believe it or not, up until now I haven't been to Dave's place. Walking holidays aside, all the sex has happened on or in my bed and on my scruffy old settee. To be honest, I'd been wondering if she has anything to hide. But she can't have because tonight is happening as per her suggestion.

Her place.
Her bed.
Her strapless strap-on.

I haven't told her, but I'm going to try a couple of new positions. I've been watching more videos, you see. Don't worry . . . I'm not going for anything outrageously gymnastic and I'll be using Dave's harness. Neither of us will come to harm.

I can hardly wait.......

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[ShakeBon]

Please continue TS

[kiasusam]

Chapter 4 - First Aid

Eve peered into the dank basement classroom in which she would be spending the bulk of her weekend. Despite the fact that she was early, there were already quite a few people. Engrossed in their phones, nobody looked up as she walked in. The desks were arranged in a semi-circle, discussion style. Being fairly timid, she prayed there wouldn't be any discussions. She tried to find a seat that wasn't immediately next to somebody and failed. She settled on a seat at the far end of the room.

The room was silent except for the mad clicking sound of text messages being sent. Not wanting to be the odd one out, she pulled her phone from her purse. She didn't have any new messages, and had recently deleted most of her social media apps. She was just staring at her menu screen. Bored already, but without putting her phone down, she surveyed her fellow students. She was probably the oldest person here. She would be surprised if half of them were old enough to buy alcohol.

A few more people walked in and then, finally, the instructor. He set down a large box on his desk with a thud and asked for a volunteer to help pass out the manuals. A hand flew up next to her. Eve turned her head subtly to have a look at her eager neighbour. All she could see was an unruly cloud of strawberry blonde curls. She got a better look when the girl got up to go grab the pile of books. She was wearing a flannel button down and black leggings. The girl was beaming with energy. Great, her neighbour was teacher's pet AND a perky morning person. Eve re-evaluated how much she actually needed to take this First Aid course.

There was to be a combination of lecture and practical exercises with breaks scattered throughout the day. They began with a lecture. Mercifully, the instructor was engaging and Eve was surprised when the instructor declared their first break. She hadn't brought any food and didn't need to go to the washroom, so she just stayed at her desk and flipped through the manual.

"I'm Daria."

For a moment Eve contemplated pretending she hadn't heard, but her polite upbringing triumphed over her desire to be left alone. They had nothing in common, the girl hailing from outside the city limits and talking about working on cars when she had time off from university. Despite this and to her amazement, she found that she quite liked Daria. She was bright and Eve enjoyed her candour.

They managed to stop talking when class resumed. The instructor announced they would be moving on to a practical section. Daria grabbed Eve's hand and whispered, "You are going to be my partner!" She could feel heat radiating from Daria's hand. It reminded her how long it had been. Her grip remained steady. Eve smiled and nodded in confirmation. To Eve's dismay, having received her response, Daria let go.

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They stood in a circle as the instructor demonstrated how to deal with an unconscious person. When he told them to break off into partners to practice, Daria rushed over to grab a mat and then staked a claim on a patch of floor. Eve walked over nervously. She didn't feel like she had paid enough attention to the demonstration. As if she was able to sense this, Daria offered to go first. Visibly relieved, Eve laid on the mat face-down and waited. She may well have been unconscious for she was lost in thought, anticipating how shortly Daria would be handling her petite body. Her heart pounded in her chest. Finally, she felt Daria arranging her legs so that she could easily be flipped over. Eve heard her walk around and waited for her to move her arms. She scolded herself; she should be paying more attention to what Daria was actually doing since she was going to have to do the same thing in a few minutes.6767867679

[kiasusam]

Arms done, Eve felt Daria's hands on her hip as she deftly rolled her over. She felt like a doll and she wanted Daria to play with her all day. She was a bit disappointed that the exercise was done. Suddenly she felt Daria's hands working their way down her body. Eve opened her eyes in surprise. She looked up at Daria, who was kneeling next to her. Daria paused, her hands gently gripping Eve's upper thigh, smiled and then continued working her way down Eve's leg.

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"Oh, the rapid body survey!" Eve thought out loud, remembering the final step of the exercise.

Daria laughed, "Yes, silly. Did you just think I liked you or something?" She winked.

Eve felt her face go hot as she blushed.

They traded places, this time Daria played the casualty. Having taken the course before, Daria proved to be an especially helpful unconscious person, guiding Eve when she forgot a step. Eve struggled a bit trying to flip her over, but managed. She was rewarded by getting to run her hands over Daria's curvy body. She wouldn't have described herself as bisexual, but she could feel her pussy getting wet. She just loved how Daria's body was soft, curvy and firm all at once.

As they went back to their seats, Eve wondered if you could fail a first aid course. She felt like she hadn't retained a single thing. Thank god she had Daria to help her. On the other hand, she thought, she wouldn't need any help if Daria were not here. She did her best to pay attention to the lecture until lunch.

Neither of them had brought any lunch so they made their way across the street towards the mall to buy something. Eve noticed the parking lot was all but empty. She had forgotten it was Easter Weekend. Daria suggested that perhaps one of the fast food places on the other side of the mall was open.

They had been laughing and talking the whole time they were walking, but suddenly an awkward silence developed. Eve looked around, not wanting to make eye contact during the awkward moment. They were at the back of the mall, passing through the covered parking. It was dimly lit underneath, and the overcast day didn't contribute much light. A truck with a broken muffler cut through the lot, leaving behind the smell of exhaust. The noisy contrast only served to emphasise the silence left behind. Eve's mind raced, trying to think of something witty to say. She couldn't come up with a single thing.

Daria slowed her pace, and Eve followed suit, eyes still glued to the ground. They soon came to a full stop next to a support pillar. Eve knew why this silence was so uncomfortable.

The sexual tension was becoming unbearable. She wasn't ordinarily the one to take the lead, but she needed it to stop. Eve turned, grabbed a handful of Daria's curls and pulled her face into hers. Her lips were soft and pillowy. Daria pushed her tongue into Eve's mouth. Eve stood on her toes to try to get a better angle but she lost her balance and fell forward into Daria, steadying herself with her hands on Daria's breasts. Also soft and pillowy, Eve noted. Her own breasts were lovely and perky, but they were barely handfuls, and she'd always wondered what it would be like to play with a larger set.

Before she got a chance, Eve was being backed against the pillar. Still kissing her deeply, she felt Daria grab her hands and pin them against her hips. Daria pressed her whole body against Eve, sandwiching her against the wall. Daria pulled her head back. Being a little bit taller than Eve, she looked down at her. Eve was still without words. She had no thoughts to speak of. She simply looked up at Daria with her big brown eyes, and waited for guidance. She was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold. Daria let go of Eve's hands and brushed a strand of hair from Eve's face. She then ran her hand down Eve's neck lightly, like a feather. She changed directions and worked her way back up to Eve's jaw, running her thumb over the fine edge of her jaw bone.

Her hand stopped, her grip slowly becoming firmer. Eve made no effort to move. Her eyes opened even wider. Her chest heaved as her breaths became deeper. Daria broke eye contact and glanced down at Eve's breasts in her low cut top.67681

[kiasusam]

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Daria used her control of Eve's neck to turn her head sideways. Eve stared at the caged light located on an adjacent pillar. Daria was kissing her neck. Or biting. Eve couldn't tell. It felt divine and she didn't care. She was making her way down, past her collar bone, towards her breasts. Eve tensed up. Her mind turned back on. This would be the furthest she had been with a woman.

Daria paused, sensing Eve's unease. As she backed away, the cold air traced over the spots on Eve's neck and chest Daria had been kissing. Daria being further away from her didn't alleviate Eve's anxiety, it multiplied it. Daria stood in front of her, her curls becoming a halo in the wet spring air.

"Please...don't stop," Eve managed to say.

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Daria smiled a wickedly beautiful smile, and once again stepped forward into Eve. This time she used her knee to separate Eve's legs. Her upper thigh rubbed against Eve's pussy. Eve's mind turned off again, and she was left only with primal lust. She reflexively grinded against Daria's leg, rubbing her clit through layers of fabric.

She wanted more of Daria. She reached around to undo Daria's bra clasp but found none. Daria's face was planted in between Eve's tits, but she leaned back to allow Eve some room to play. Eve fumbled to unbutton Daria's shirt as if her life depended on it. Finally, the shirt fell open. Eve was surprised to find a see through lacy black bra underneath such a pragmatic outfit. The lace was strained against Daria's tits and Eve could see her light pink nipples clearly through the pattern. Using both thumbs simultaneously, Eve gently drew circles around Daria's nipples. They stiffened into hard nubs. Eve wanted those nubs in between her teeth, but not through the fabric. Eve worked quickly on the front-clasp and stared in awe as the cups gaped open to display Daria's huge tits. Eve lowered her head to take a nipple into her mouth and cupped Daria's breast in her both hands. She loved the heaviness of her tits. She was was in heaven.

Eve was slightly distraught when she felt Daria pull away. She wasn't done playing, but Eve sensed she wasn't in charge here. Daria roughly lifted up Eve's top, pulling it all the way to Eve's mouth.

"Hold this, Love,"

Eve was perplexed for a moment and then caught on, firmly gripping her shirt in her teeth, exposing herself from the waist up. Her tiny nipples hardened in the cool air. Daria used both hands to knead Eve's perky tits. She then pushed them together and gave each nipple a kiss. She let them drop and then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Eve's pants. Daria leaned in and ran her tongue along Eve's ear. She paused, doing nothing but breathing her sweet, hot breath down Eve's neck.

"Eve. You seemed really shy when you sat down next to me. Are you a shy girl?" She waited.

Eve once again found herself unable to form words. Why was Daria talking? Why wasn't she touching her anymore? Why did she stop?

Knowing Daria would not touch her again until she answered, Eve managed a quiet, "Yes."

"Too shy to have your tits and pussy exposed in a public parking lot?" Daria once again leaned her leg into Eve's mound. Eve ground herself into it, the seam of her pants chaffing against her clit.6770967710

[kiasusam]

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Eve moaned softly. This was apparently enough response for Daria, because she pulled back her leg and slowly rolled down Eve's pants. She was sure to pull down Eve's thong with it in one prolonged, smooth movement.

For a moment neither girl moved. Daria admired her work. Eve was exposed from collar bone to knees, shivering in a cold parking garage. Despite their dimness, the caged lighting managed to catch a reflection on the string of pussy juice hanging from Eve's dripping cunt to her thigh. Those same lights hummed loudly, the only other sound other than Eve's heavy breathing.

Daria leaned in and kissed Eve deeply. Eve could feel her tits pressing against her own. Eve ran her hands along Daria's body, cupping her thick ass. Eve's grip on Daria's full cheeks tightened as she felt Daria dip a finger into her sopping hole, sneaking in from behind. Eve pressed back on it, trying to get it deeper. To Eve's disappointment, she pulled out. She brought her glistening finger between them and rubbed it on one of her nipples. Eve used her tongue to lick it up. While she did this, she reached for Daria's pussy through her leggings, rubbing gently at it. She felt Daria's breath quickening.

She was just about to venture underneath the fabric when Daria suddenly grabbed her and flipped her around. While she was small and Daria was athletic, Eve was still surprised with how easily Daria was able to throw her around. Eve was now bent over, ass out, arms outstretched, bracing herself against the pillar.

Daria gave Eve's round little ass a smack before reaching around for Eve's pussy. Daria teased Eve, using her fingers to trace around her lips, moving closer to her clit but never quite getting there. Eve rolled her hips trying to manipulate Daria's fingers either into her or onto her clit. Daria laughed at her attempts and teased for what seemed like hours. Finally, she passed her index finger ever so lightly over Eve's swollen clit. Eve gasped. It was electrifying. Daria started to stroke Eve's clit faster and faster and before long Eve was on the edge of orgasm. Then Daria stopped. Eve cried out, a tear rolling down her cheek. She'd never experienced such loss.

"Don't worry, Love,"Daria soothed.

Daria plunged a finger into Eve's gash. It slid in easily with Eve's arousal. When a second and third joined, Eve could feel her walls stretching. She clenched her pussy in joy. She loved to feel full. Eve was delighting her the feeling of fullness when Daria simultaneously curled her fingers inside her and used her other hand to press hard below Eve's belly button. Eve felt a small gush from inside of her. Daria started rubbing her from the inside and Eve's knees went weak. Eve was almost entirely being supported by Daria. Daria kept going and Eve felt all her muscles tense. She wanted to scream but she couldn't. Her vision dimmed slightly and she managed some primal moans as her pussy spasmed and gushed. It seemed to last longer than any other orgasm she had ever had.

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Daria carefully removed her long fingers from Eve's dripping slit. They were shimmering with Eve's juices. She lifted them up to her mouth and licked them clean, the whole while still supporting Eve's barely conscious body. Her shirt had fallen out of her mouth as she was screaming, so her tits were no longer exposed. Daria leaned forward over Eve and kissed her neck.
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"Time to go, Love"

Eve was still in a daze but managed to make herself look like she hadn't just fucked in a parking garage. Daria held her hand as they hurried back to their class. The demonstration had just started when they walked in. This afternoon, they would be learning to tie slings and splints.

"Remember, the main purpose is to immobilise your partner. Now pair off into groups and come get me when you're done."

Eve looked at Daria, who she found was already looking at her.

"You're my partner," Daria whispered, a mischievous look in her eyes.677166771767719

[kiasusam]

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[kiasusam]

Chapter 5 - Pub Crawler

April sat on her sofa, glass of whisky in one hand, the television remote in the other, feet propped up on the coffee table. Her boyfriend, David, was away with a few friends at a music festival in Europe and her other housemates had gone to visit their respective families for the weekend, leaving her alone in the house for the first time in months. Living with three men was exhausting; they constantly abandoned piles of washing up in the sink, turned a blind eye to broken cupboard doors and point-blank refused to lift a finger to mow the grass. April often found that if the wanted a job done then she had to do it herself. Now, with a few days carved out just for her - no noisy drunken men coming home at 5am in the morning or abandoned boxes of chicken bones littering the lounge - the weekend stretched deliciously ahead of her, full of possibilities.

It was a cold Friday evening, and the long February night chilled the air that crept in under the door. April drew the curtains, poured herself another glass of whisky and lit 3 candles in the fireplace. She re-watched several episodes of her favourite crime drama. Voices passed in the street outside, headed to the pub at the end of the road. Normally, the whole household would do something on a Friday night, getting drunk at home on wine and cans of cheap lager, then head out to The Swan, or catch the tube into London and drink and dance in one of the bars in Shore Dutch or the clubs in Horton. April felt slightly lonely without them.

By 11:30, her confidence built up by the 3 or 4 whiskeys she had drunk that evening, April decided to drop in at the pub for a quick drink. She knew all the bar staff, and was bound to bump into a few regulars that she recognised. She headed upstairs into her bedroom, shimmied out of her comfy leggings and oversized shirt and stood in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

Firstly, she needed some better underwear.

For some reason, just knowing that she had a good set of matching underwear on beneath her clothes made her feel confident, stand taller, and feel sexier - even if nobody knew she had them on. She clambered out of the ones she was wearing and reached for a matching set of midnight blue knickers and bra. The bikini style knickers were made of a silken fabric with a black lace trim, and they snugly hugged the curve of her hips. The lightly padded bra, in a plunge style that gently pressed her breasts together to create a deep cleavage, was also made of dark navy silk, the edges of the cups trimmed with more black lace. April had been a 30 DD almost from the moment her breasts first blossomed - although now in her mid 20s, having discovered the joys of baking, her previously skinny figure had filled out a little. She was still slim, but a healthy covering of plumpness now filled out her stomach, bottom and breasts - although her legs and remained slender. She smiled back at herself, then turned and pulled on her clothes.

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A pair of blue skinny jeans, intentionally ripped at the knees and in one place on her upper left thigh. A black, slim-fitting top cut low enough to reveal the soft curves just at the top of her breasts. Black, chunky heeled boots to add height but ensure she wouldn't trip on her way to or from the pub. A slick of red lipstick to freshen up the faded makeup she had applied earlier. A quick brush through of her mid-length blonde hair. She stood by the door, checked her keys and her wallet, then stepped out into the street.

April could see the lights of the pub beckoning her, and hear the music blared out by the DJ thumping through the cold air. She hurried along the road, up the steps of the pub and flashed her ID to the bouncers waiting at the door. Inside, it was dark and loud, and everyone already seemed much more drunk than she was. She pushed through the crowds toward the bar and pulled up a chair, nodding to the woman who stood there pulling pints and taking orders.

[kiasusam]

"Hi, how are you, hun?" she asked April, whilst lining up a row of shots along the bar.

"I'm fine thanks, just popped in to get a drink - David's away holiday and I wanted to get out of the house for a while, be a bit more sociable."

The woman threw her a sympathetic look as she tapped away at the till, before turning and pouring April a double measure of whisky.

"Thanks" said April, relieved, and pressed a note into the woman's hand.

"I'll catch up with you later, after this rush has died down."

April half-turned in her seat to survey the pub. Several women were dancing in the centre of the room; eyes closed, arms in the air, swaying vaguely in time to the beat of the music. She sipped her drink and smiled to herself as the smoky liquid ran down her throat, warming her stomach and brightening her mood. She glanced again at the dancing women, wondering how they could balance in those sky-high stilettos, and how they avoided being freezing cold with their bare legs. Around the edges of the room, lounging on chairs and leaning on pillars were several men, also watching the women. They had a predatory air to them, clustered in groups and staring intently at the bodies of the dancers. Suddenly, someone knocked into her elbow, splashing some of her drink onto her hand.

April frowned and wiped it off on her jeans, whilst the man who had bumped into her apologised profusely, offering to buy her another drink and dabbing haplessly at her arm with a paper towel from the bar. He was clearly rather drunk, his eyes slightly unfocused and his black hair ruffled up - but he wasn't unattractive. In fact, he reminded her of David, the same good-natured smile and tall, but broad frame. He smiled at her.

"Are you sure I can't buy you a drink?"

April shook her head, "No thank you, there's plenty left in here" she replied, gesturing to the glass.

Suddenly, it all seemed too loud, too busy inside. Excusing herself, she slipped off her bar stool and headed out to the beer garden at the rear of the pub. It was freezing outside, and she hadn't brought a jacket because she could see the pub from her front door. Groups of laughing, chatting people were gathered around the picnic benches in the dark, lit by the glow of pink fairy lights draped from the trees. April headed to a darker corner of the garden, sat on top of one of the benches and clutched her glass, watching the revellers in the semi-darkness, feeling more alone than she had at home. The group closest to her was made up of an even mix of young men and women, all talking away enthusiastically. Some of them looked painfully cool, young men with full sleeve tattoos and beautiful women with no makeup wearing dungarees and drinking white wine.

On the far side of the bench sat a dark-haired woman, sandwiched between two men with moustaches who were clearly engaged in a conversation she had no interest in. Her pale skin glowed softly under the pink of the fairy lights. As April watched, she pushed her hair away from her face, revealing a scattering of freckles and a pair of delicate but full lips. April found herself watching this woman as she pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one, blowing the smoke towards one of the men who coughed dramatically and shifted away slightly. She was fascinated by the way her lips ever so softly gripped the cigarette as she drew in the smoke, by the way her elegant fingers rested it between puffs, and tapped out the ash into the ashtray.

David had never smoked, and was completely against the idea, and therefore April only smoked socially when offered cigarettes by other people - always feeling that every cigarette was a tiny act of rebellion against her health-conscious boyfriend. As she watched, the rest of the group drifted off inside, leaving the woman with the dark hair alone to finish her cigarette. Without the distractions of the group, she started to look around the beer garden, and her eyes met Aprils. She smiled. April smiled back.;)

[kiasusam]

Emboldened by the warming effects of the whisky, the throb of the music and the dream-like quality of the frosty air, April climbed off the bench and made her way carefully over to the other woman, digging her heels into the gravel and trying not to lose her balance.

"Hi," she smiled, "could I sit here?"

"Sure," the woman responded, gesturing to the bench.

April seated herself opposite, suddenly feeling self-conscious. This was London, not a small village where people could walk up to anybody and start a conversation. She was probably coming across as strange.

"I'm Niamh."

"April."

Niamh spoke softly, with a very slight Irish accent. Up close, April could see that her eyes were a deep chestnut, flecked with darker speckles of brown. She was dressed more sensibly than April, in a soft suede jacket and a thick woolen scarf.

Niamh silently offered April a cigarette from the packet, and when April accepted she glanced quickly up at her with a shy smile.

The dark-haired woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter that she flicked into life and held out to April. April leant forwards and lit her cigarette, and her fingers brushed against Niamh's as she steadied her hand.

There was an awkward silence, as April racked her brains for something to say that would be interesting or intelligent, but nothing came to mind. To her relief, Niamh began to speak but before she could say anything the 2 moustachioed men appeared on either side of her, loudly chatting away. Before long, the rest of the group joined the table, seeming not to notice Niamh and April.

"Would you like to get a drink?" April asked, and to her relief Niamh nodded, and the two women stood up and headed inside, pushing through the groups of smokers thronging around the back door.

Side-by-side at the bar, April noticed that Niamh was 5 or so inches shorter than her, maybe about 5 foot tall, and slightly built. Her black jeans tightly hugged her legs and bum, and April couldn't help but glance down as they waited to be served.

By this time of night the bar was packed out, elbows jostling into ribs as people shoved their way to the front. April found herself pressed against Niamh's left shoulder, her upper thigh brushing against the back of her legs. A flush of adrenaline surged through her veins, and she felt herself blush slightly. The pressure from the crowd eased, and April leant away slightly, embarrassed that what should have been an innocent encounter had left her feeling so excited - but Niamh also moved fractionally away from the bar, pressing herself back against April's body, maintaining the same level of pressure.

April held her breath, feeling her heart pounding against her chest. The drinks arrived, and the tension was broken as they turned from the bar and headed into the middle of the crowd of dancing people.

The music throbbed through the air, and April and Niamh found themselves pressed against each other once more as they danced, sipping at their drinks and laughing. The whole pub seemed to be dancing now, a swirling mass of colours and faces and lights. Niamh's friends arrived; bearing more drinks, and came and went, drifting in and out of the two women's conversation. Eventually, just before 2 o'clock, the bell rang for last orders. April leaned down to speak into Niamh's ear:

"I live just down the street, fancy a nightcap?" Niamh smiled and nodded in response, taking April's hand to pull her through the crowds to the front door of the pub.

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On the street outside, revellers were sat on the edge of the kerb, and taxi's swung past along the high street. A police van and several police officers were parked up on the pavement, and the flashing blue lights reflected off the windows of the houses as the two women headed away from the main road.

In the porch outside the doorway, April fumbled for her keys - dropping them on the tiles. Niamh laughed and bent down to pick them up, her shoulder-length, wavy hair falling over her face as she did so. Finally inside, the house was dark and quiet.

"Sorry, there's no light in the hallway or the stairs, nobody has got around to fixing it" April apologised. "I've got a selection up in my room, stashed safely out of the way."

[kiasusam]

April kicked off her shoes and fumbled her way to the stairs, gripping the banister with one hand. Behind her, she felt Niamh reaching up and feeling for her other hand, running hers over April's lower back before catching it in her own.

April guided her carefully upstairs, and the two women giggled as they tripped over the carpet on the landing. Opening the door to her room, April flicked on a lamp and a string of coloured fairy lights she had strung over the bed.

Niamh looked around, her eyes flicking across the artwork on the walls, the plants on the windowsill, the men's shoes under the bed, the fluffy throws on the sofa, before settling her self down and pulling one of the throws over her legs. April collected two glasses and held out a bottle to Niamh for her approval before pouring them each a measure and turning on some music.
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The two women sat at either end of the sofa, feet just touching under the soft fabric of the throw. They chatted for a while, about work and where they were from, their families and their pets. April leant forwards to reach for the bottle she had placed on the floor next to them, but Niamh reached out and gently cupped the side of her face.

April looked up at her, and again felt that surge of warmth through her body, flushing her cheeks and causing her heart to race. Niamh gazed back down at her, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks as she blinked, her soft pink lips slightly parted. She leant forward towards April, slowly, cautiously, pausing just a fraction away from her. Her brown eyes met April's grey ones. Ever so gently, their lips brushed against each other, and April let out a small sigh of relief.

Niamh's lips felt as soft as they looked, and April pressed hers against them, mouth open, tongue probing, desperate to be kissed back. She felt Niamh's left hand gently press against her left breast, squeezing and massaging it through her top, and felt her nipples harden in response to her touch. April tore her mouth away from hers, and lifted up Niamh's hair to expose her neck, before kissing from behind her ear down towards her collarbone. Her scent, warmed by the excited flushing of her skin, rose from her body - a heady mixture of roses and spices and smoke.

April's hands moved to Niamh's waist, gripping it tightly before lifting her shirt and exposing her breasts.

They were much smaller than April's own, sitting high and firm, the nipples hardening in excitement - she didn't need a bra. April took one in each hand, and lowered her head to them, kissing the gentle curve of the underside of each breast, working her way up and over the top as Niamh threw her head back in delight, her own hands tangled in April's hair.

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April released her grip, and began to unbutton Niamh's jeans, tugging them from her hips and peeling them from her legs before slipping them over her delicate ankles and perfect feet. Now Niamh was lying on the sofa, naked except for a pair of sheer pink lace knickers. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, then stood up and took April by the hand, leading her over to the bed.

They stood next to it and kissed again, tongues searching each other out, and April ran her hands over Niamh's smooth skin, down her waist to her bum, gripping her cheeks hard. She gave her a gentle spank then pushed her backwards onto the bed, before starting to undress herself. She removed her top and jeans, stripping down to her lingerie and stood watching Niamh appreciatively as the other woman settled herself back onto the pillows.

"You are so hot" she whispered, taking in the sight of the gorgeous brunette lying splayed on her bed, inviting her to join in. Slowly, she knelt on the bed between Niamh's slightly parted legs, and lowered her head to taste her breasts. Her tongue slowly traced a circle around the soft areola of her right breast, whilst her left hand mirrored the movement on her left. Niamh let out a soft moan of delight, eyes closed, head thrown back. April continued to tease and stroke just around her nipples, without quite touching them, as Niamh's breathing quickened and she began to beg.

[kiasusam]

"That feels so good... suck them April, please..."

"I will if you beg me."

"Please... please..."

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Quickly, April flicked her tongue over Niamh's nipple, letting the saliva cool in the air and then repeating on the other side, watching as they hardened and pointed up towards her mouth as if begging her to kiss them.
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Continuing to massage and squeeze her left nipple, April took the right one into her mouth, feeling the hardened nub against her teeth as she nipped and sucked at it, her lips clamping tightly around it and forming a suction that made Niamh cry out in delight. She switched her mouth's attention to the other nipple, and ran her hand over the taught stomach muscles of the brunette, resting briefly on her hip before sliding them over the lace of her knickers and down onto her leg.
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Slowly, she glided her hand up the warm skin of Niamh's inner thigh, reaching the damp crotch of her lace knickers and causing the woman to emit another high pitched gasp. Gently, she eased a finger underneath the edge of her knickers and sought out the source of her juices, the hot dripping warmth of her vulva.

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Quickly, she slipped a finger inside the velvety, tight vagina, and felt Niamh thrust eagerly against her finger, which she slipped out again and held to her tongue, slowly licking the sticky liquid from it. In one swift movement, she pulled Niamh's knickers from her body, and tossed them onto the floor. A tuft of neatly trimmed hair adorned her pubic bone, and beneath it the soft pink lips mirrored the ones April had just been kissing. She let out a murmur of appreciation and then lowered herself onto her elbows, bringing her face up between Niamh's legs. She gently extended her tongue, and lapped at the glistening lips, reaching round with her hand to grasp her buttocks in her hands, lifting Niamh towards her mouth.

Extending her tongue further into a point, April plunged it at deep as she could inside Niamh, letting the juices of the other woman's arousal pool onto her tongue. She repeatedly pushed inside her, licking and swallowing and gripping Niamh's bum as she bucked against her face, moaning louder and louder. April switched her attention to the woman's clit and gently eased two fingers inside her, slipping them in and out slowly at first, but faster and faster in time with Niamh's panting breaths. She sucked hard on her clit, flicked her tongue across it and pressed down with the very tip, moving in ever firmer circles one way and then the other, as Niamh's cries reached a crescendo and an orgasm shook through her body, the muscles of her vagina squeezing against April's fingers.

April gently kissed her dripping lips, then made her way up and over Niamh's stomach before kissing her on the mouth, encouraging her to taste her own juices. Niamh's face was flushed, her dark hair thrown back from her damp face, and she kissed April weakly, still recovering from the effects of her orgasm.

"My turn" April whispered in her ear, and her teeth grazing against her ear revitalised Niamh, who sat up against the pillows.

April straddled her, kissing Niamh's flushed pink lips as the brunette reached around and expertly unclasped her bra, easing the straps from her shoulders and lifting the cups away.

Aprils breasts, now free from her bra, swung temptingly in front of Niamh's face, and she took one in each hand. They were too big for her to hold entirely, so she squeezed them together and pressed her face into the deep cleavage. April ran one hand through Niamh's hair and arched her back, bringing the woman's lips down towards her nipples, and placing one in her mouth.

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Niamh began to suck at her breast, trying to fit in as much as possible, before focusing on April's already hardened nipple, pressing it with her tongue and pinching the other one so hard that April cried out - the pain was exquisite. April could feel the patch of dampness in her knickers growing wetter and wetter as she pressed herself against Niamh, and the sight of this gorgeous woman sucking on her breasts, pink lips fastened around her blushing nipples, made her cry out with pleasure, causing Niamh to suck and pinch even harder until her nipples throbbed and the sensation in her knickers was agonisingly powerful.

Unable to resist any longer, she pulled off her own knickers and resumed her position, only this time straddling Niamh's face. Slowly, she lowered herself down to meet Niamh's searching tongue, feeling her pussy twinge with excitement as her slippery lips met Niamh's warm mouth. She rubbed herself against her, gripping the headboard of the bed in an attempt to steady herself, feeling an orgasm building - but she didn't want to come just yet.

Lifting herself off, she turned to face away from Niamh, and lowered herself onto all fours, lifting her bottom into the air and spreading her legs slightly.

Without a word, Niamh obliged by kneeling behind her, and ran her fingers through the slick juices dripping from between April's legs, inserting one finger, then two, then squeezing in a third as April gasped in excitement. Niamh leant forward, and April felt her warm breath on her skin as her tongue traced its way from her clit up and past her pussy towards her ass. Niamh's tongue gently probed the entrance to this tight hole, running around the rim as April relaxed her muscles, allowing Niamh to press further inside.

[kiasusam]

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At first only the tip would reach, teasingly pressing against the entrance. Then, the more April relaxed, the further Niamh's tongue could reach, and she made it pointed and hard to ease it inside her before slowly edging almost all the way out and then back in again, whilst her fingers thrust in and out of her pussy.

April shook with anticipation, feeling her orgasm building in her legs and the throbbing sensation in her clit as Niamh's tongue continued to fuck her ass and her fingers pressed deep inside her, filling her up.

Sensing the proximity of this orgasm, Niamh slipped her tongue and fingers from inside her and pulled April's hips further up so that she could return to sucking her clit, slipping two fingers into her tight ass and continuing to thrust in and out.

As April felt this assault on her deepest, most private parts, she felt her orgasm building as Niamh's lips clamped onto her clit, felt the juices flowing from her pussy onto the other woman's face as she shook and bucked and finally orgasmed, waves of pleasure crashing through her body as she collapsed, exhausted, onto her stomach, legs still spread out behind her.

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"That was amazing," she moaned, sweeping her blonde hair out of her eyes.

"You tasted so good, I didn't want to stop" came Niamh's reply. The two women lay side-by-side; arms resting on each other's waists, and almost instantly fell asleep.

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E. N. D.

[Granadan]

Camping for more.

[kiasusam]

Chapter 6 - Ablution

"Morning, Mother Leah," my favourite acolyte said cheerfully as I entered the vesting-room. Typical Julie—I had just arrived at church, and she was already vested and ready.

We offer two Sunday services at the Episcopal Church of St. Mary Magdalene, both of which are Rite I, meaning that we use the Elizabethan language in our liturgy. (I guess you could say we're more than a little Anglo-Catholic; some other churches affectionately refer to us as "Smoky Mary's".) The 7:45 service is a fully chanted Eucharist with incense, and the 9:00 am service is a spoken Eucharist without incense. Because my rector is profoundly tone-deaf, I am always the celebrant at the early service. Father Michael and I alternate weeks celebrating at the second service—whoever is not preaching that Sunday celebrates the Mass at the 9:00 service.

Not only does Julie serve in many capacities on Sunday mornings—she's an acolyte first and foremost, but she's also a trained lay Eucharistic minister, lector, intercessor, usher, cantor, and a member of the altar guild—but she is incredibly involved in the life of the church outside the Sunday service. She helps lead youth confirmation classes in the spring, and she was recently inducted into the Order of the Daughters of the King as our chapter's youngest-ever member. She's also the person who trains acolytes, Eucharistic ministers, ushers, lectors, and intercessors, and schedules people to serve in each of these capacities every week. Oh, and on top of all of that, she's also a full-time college student.

(If you don't speak Episcopalian-ese, allow me to translate: she's a liturgical superhero, and she makes the lives of her priests so much easier by her willingness to serve cheerfully in whatever capacity she is needed.)

Above all else, her immense reverence and love for the liturgy, and for the God she serves, calls us all—clergy and laity alike—into a deeper sense of awe and wonder at God and all His works. I have a sneaking suspicion that Julie may be called to the priesthood herself. Although she's made no indication as to whether she's aware of her possible priestly vocation, Father Michael and I are in agreement that there's likely something there.

"Hi, Julie," I replied.

After some brief pleasantries, she excused herself and slipped into the hospitality room to snag me a cup of coffee. Three creams, two sugars, just the way I take it.

"Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite?" I teased, taking the Styrofoam cup from her and proceeding to guzzle its contents rather ungracefully. "Praise be to God," I said, and she chuckled. The coffee was lukewarm in temperature and weakly brewed—an occupational hazard with church coffee—but it was certainly better than nothing.

"Would you go into the sanctuary and light the altar candles, please, Julie?"

"Yes, Mother Leah," she said, bowing her head respectfully to me before grabbing the long brass taper and scurrying off to the sacristy to look for a lighter.

As the coffee made its way to my brain, it occurred to me that today was the fifth Sunday of Easter—still part of the Easter season. I called after her, "You need to light the Paschal candle, too, please!"

"I know."

Of course you do.

When she returned, having lit all the candles, and bearing a second cup of coffee for me, she straightened out my stole and clipped on my body mic before helping me get my chasuble on.

"You look really beautiful," she said when I was fully vested, which made me blush and look away. She reached out to touch my arm, her delicate hand resting on the lacy sleeve of my alb. "I mean it. You do."

It's hard for me—especially since my 32 year marriage ended in divorce, which happened a year before I began serving at St. Mary's—to see my body as anything other than a vessel or a container for the rest of me. I've gained a lot of weight since my marriage started to fall apart, and rarely wear makeup beyond a bit of concealer and some chapstick. I don't feel connected to my body. It's just the shell where I live. I used to get manicures and expensive haircuts and put a lot of thought into what I wore, but that just isn't me anymore. I'm not repulsed by my body, necessarily; I'm just incredibly apathetic about it.

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[kiasusam]

I look quite unmistakably German—very fine blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and fair skin. Not to mention, I have a rather prominent nose, about which I'm somewhat self-conscious. There's not much else remarkable about me.

Julie, on the other hand, is drop-dead gorgeous. She's about my height—around 5'8"—and very slim, maybe 140 pounds soaking wet. She has deep caramel skin, curly mocha-brown hair, and very large hazel eyes laced with flecks of amber. She knows how to play up her best features with just the right amount of makeup, and her elbow-length ringlets are always flawless. She isn't vain by any stretch of the imagination, but she's always well-dressed and well-put-together.

Her parents, she told me, are as white and as blonde as I am, but she herself was adopted from Brazil as a toddler. I met Julie when she began her freshman year of college, which was about 6 months after I arrived at St. Mary's. Julie was already a devout Episcopalian when she joined us, and immediately began seizing every possible opportunity to serve. She quickly integrated herself into the life of the parish by her genuine desire to help out wherever she was needed.

And, dear God, she's stunning. She's the type of woman whom perfect strangers approach to compliment on her beauty. She modestly brushes it off, of course, but it couldn't be more true. Although I would never admit this to another living soul, I can't help but have the tiniest bit of a crush on her, despite the fact that she's younger than my daughters. To be fair, I think most everyone at St. Mary's has at least a little crush on her. No one is disrespectful or inappropriate toward her, of course, but her beauty doesn't go unnoticed.

"Thank you," I muttered clumsily. "Are you... are you ready to go?" She nodded, excited at the prospect of beginning worship. She grabbed the processional cross and we made our way into the narthex, getting ready to process into the church.

Two services later, we were once again in the vesting room. Father Michael, who had joined us for the second service, and six other acolytes were milling about, hanging up vestments and chatting about their plans for the rest of the day. Julie supervised the younger acolytes, making sure they hung their albs up properly and didn't leave their cinctures dangling down to the floor.

"Bye, Father Michael. Bye, Mother Leah." The young acolytes left one by one. Father Michael had to be on his way too; he had five children under the age of twelve and a wife who would be rather unhappy with him if he didn't hurry home. That left only Julie and me.

"Did you lose power after the storm last night?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Only for a few minutes. You?"

"Yeah. A huge tree fell on my street, right on the power line. As far as I know, the power at my house is still out."

"Oh," she said. "Well, come eat lunch at my apartment, then."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah! I'll cook for you, and you can hang out for a bit. You can take a shower, too, if you want. Maybe your power will have come back on in time for you to eat dinner at home."

No part of that invitation was even remotely appropriate for me to accept. And yet...

"That sounds great. Thank you so much," I blurted out, before my mouth had time to check in with my brain. "Where are you parked?"

What the hell, Leah? I silently barked at myself. She's a junior in college and you're her priest, for heaven's sake. Do you want to be defrocked? Even though nothing unseemly is actually going to happen, nothing about this looks right, and nothing good will come of it.

We pulled up to her apartment building in her old Range Rover and climbed a few flights of stairs. Her apartment was about like I had imagined—a modest but sufficient one-bedroom affair with a small balcony.

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[kiasusam]

Julie went all out with the cooking. She made eggs, grits, and sausage with a small stack of silver-dollar pancakes. And, of course, every college girl's favourite brunch drink: mimosas. I wasn't sure whether she was old enough to drink—I was pretty sure she wasn't—but I didn't ask any questions. I was looking forward to digging into this big, beautiful brunch she'd made. She was a Southern girl at heart, and loved her breakfast food.

One of her favourite days of the year was Shrove Tuesday because of the giant breakfast-for-dinner pancake supper we had at the church. I had never met anyone with a greater appreciation for pancakes than Julie.

"Julie, dear, I have a sneaking suspicion that if Aunt Jemima was a man, you'd want to marry her," I ribbed, as she smothered her pancakes in syrup.

She looked at me a little funny and said, "Well, her being a woman isn't the issue for me. Not being real presents somewhat of a challenge, though."

Oh. Oh. "Wait—you're... wait, no, that's none of my business. I'm so sorry. I'm going to shut up now."

"No, it's okay," she said with a chuckle. "And yes, I'm gay."

The Episcopal Church doesn't condemn gay people at all—in fact, openly partnered and married gay and lesbian people can become priests and even bishops—and I personally don't have a problem with it, either. I just didn't happen to know that about Julie.

I admired the casual confidence with which she said it. For the latter half of my marriage, and ever since it ended, I had Harboured suspicions that I might be attracted partly—or perhaps even exclusively—to women.

This was a large part of why Charlie and I had gotten divorced. I had always told people that it was because we had fallen out of love with one another, but in my heart, I wondered whether I had ever been in love with him, or whether I was even capable of it. I loved Charlie—don't get me wrong; he was a wonderful husband, an amazing friend, and the best dad my daughters could have ever asked for—and although I had never strayed, I don't know that my heart was ever his. I think he knew that. I had never had the courage to speak the words aloud—to him, or even to myself—but I think he knew. Still, my secret was something I kept hidden as deep inside as I could bury it.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to share that," I said in my best priest voice.

She shrugged. "It's no big deal."

Our conversation turned to other things—her studies, anecdotes from my own college and seminary days, and everything else under the sun. It occurred to me that we'd had very few real one-on-one conversations—mostly just passing chatter as we were vesting together, or group conversations at the college students' group I led. I was enjoying talking with her. It was incredibly natural.

After she had stacked our empty plates in the sink and poured us each another mimosa—her second and my third—she rejoined me in her bedroom and we resumed our talk. We talked about movies—and, as it turns out, we both have the hobby of watching terrible ROM-coms and making fun of them. You know, the cheesy kisses, the bad dialogue, the wildly contrived plotlines... all of it.

Then our conversation turned to the subject of first kisses. Mine was with the only other guy I ever dated before Charlie—the guy who had introduced us, actually—whose name was Bill. Bill and I were about nineteen and in college and he kissed me behind the bleachers during a college football game. Both Julie and I giggled about how ridiculously dorky that was. The first time I kissed Charlie was even more ridiculous—it happened while we were drunk and sitting in the bed of his truck at a tailgate party. Yes, in the actual flat bed of a Chevrolet pickup truck. (Classy, right?)

As for Julie, her first—and last- kiss with a guy was in eighth grade on a dare. Her first kiss with a girl was in tenth grade. Grace was her name, and she had taken Julie's virginity later that year. She was the girl who broke her heart just before graduation.

67892

Out of curiosity, I asked about that relationship. Julie told it was great while it lasted—intense, like a flame—and the sex was amazing. Embarrassed to have blurted the sex bit out in front of her priest, she immediately apologized, and I assured her that it was just fine, and I had heard a lot worse. (Which is true. People tend to think the white collar I wear around my neck is actually a big white screen onto which they can project their home movies, and those movies aren't always G-rated.)

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[kiasusam]

"It wasn't even really the sex, though. It was—okay, you know that moment afterwards, where you're just holding each other, and it feels like the whole universe is just you and them, and everything stands still?"

"No...I can't say I know what that's like," I admitted, although I shouldn't have.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Mother Leah. Everyone should know what that feels like. Especially you—you're so sweet. Like, you're just such a good person. You might even be the best person I know. And if anyone deserves to know what it's like to have someone feel that way about you, it's you."

I blushed fiercely. "Thank you. That's really sweet." I couldn't help thinking that if she could hear my thoughts right then, she would not think I was the best person she knew.

"What's it like to kiss a woman?" Leah!

"Soft," she replied with a smile. "Just, amazingly soft. Like rose petals. And tender. Even when it's not gentle—even when you're being rough on purpose—there's still an inherent tenderness to it. It's really special."

"Wow," I murmured.

"Yeah," she said. "Wow is about right."

I felt myself breathing more quickly. I was dizzy, almost, but not in a bad way. I felt weightless and light. My head was swimming. I could physically feel my blood rushing in my veins.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. No.

My eyes closed, my body leaned forward, and before I could register what was happening, my lips touched hers.

67901

Oh.
It was light as a whisper, and yet, it made everything race inside of me. She put her hand on my chest, over my heart, and kissed me again, this time much longer and deeper. She was right about the rose petals. Her lips were incredible. Her nose brushed against mine as she pulled away.

"You're so beautiful," she told me. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

A rose pink flooded my cheeks, and I couldn't look her in the eye. "Thanks," I mumbled.

"No, I mean it. You're gorgeous. And your lips are perfect. May I kiss you again?"

Rather than answering, I leaned in and kissed her, relishing how soft and plump her lips were, and how skillfully she kissed. All at once, I somehow managed to feel so vulnerable and yet so safe.

I nudged the crevice between her lips with my tongue. When she parted them, I used my tongue to softly groom the inside of her mouth. She was so pliant, so submissive. I wasn't even aware this dominant part of me existed, but with her, it came alive. I took her face in my hands and kissed her like my life depended on it. Her tongue greeted mine, caressing it and swirling around it. It was heavenly.

The passion and urgency of the moment increased as she pulled back from my lips to kiss my jawline, starting behind my earlobe and making her way to my chin. The first time her mouth touched my neck, I felt a guttural moan from deep in my belly escape from between my parted lips. Butterfly kisses in the curves of my neck became deeper and deeper until she was sucking on the incredibly sensitive skin, dragging her lips and tongue from my jaw down to my shoulders and back again, sucking harder and harder each time, leaving little marks in her wake.

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OMG.
I had no idea anything could feel like this. I must have sounded like some kind of animal in heat, and I didn't care at all. I just let myself moan. She grabbed handfuls of my hair, digging her nails into my scalp and the back of my neck as she came up once again to kiss my mouth. Her eyes burned wild with lust.

I took the opportunity to grab her by the hair and tell her how much I wanted her.

[kiasusam]

I buried my face in her neck and kissed her roughly, hoping to leave at least one good hickey for her to remember this by. I had never actually given or received a hickey before, but the idea of marking her as mine was extremely arousing to me. She moaned and squealed noisily while I sucked her neck.

Her trembling hands roamed my body, exploring me on top of my shirt—my lower back, my sides, my belly—and as she inched closer to my breasts, she asked, "May I?"

"Of course," I said. I took her hands and placed them on my waiting breasts.

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She let out a guttural, "OMG," as she took them in her hands. "They're amazing." When she began to knead them, and squeeze them, I couldn't believe how wonderful it felt. I'd been felt up before, sure, and with some degree of enthusiasm, but never with such skill. I moaned into her neck. The vibration of my lips against her skin nearly sent her into orbit. Before I knew it, I could feel her tugging upward at the bottom of my shirt.

Oh, God.
"Wait," I said between shallow gasps. "My collar. Collar...has...to...come off... before...the shirt..."

I reached up to remove my clergy collar, but Julie said, "I want to do it. Show me how."

I helped her find and undo the metal collar studs on the front and back of my shirt and remove the collar itself. She placed my collar and the two small metal pins carefully on the table beside the bed.

"There," she said, grinning.

She began undoing my shirt buttons, starting from the bottom. The anticipation was such exquisite torture. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest and into her cupped hands as she worked her way up my shirt. When she finally undid my top button and slid my shirt off of my shoulders, she gasped.

"You're so beautiful," she told me. She placed her hands on my pudgy belly. I almost recoiled in disgust, but held still, allowing her to touch the part of me that bothered me most. "You're so soft," she said. "You've got the nicest, creamiest skin, and your belly is absolutely gorgeous."

Gorgeous?
Me?
Hardly.

Still, her nails on my skin felt so good, and when I got over the initial shock of being touched on my stomach, I kind of liked the way it felt. I felt as though even the worst part of me was perfect to her, and that's what I loved about it. Her obvious—if inexplicable—desire for me hadn't decreased at all since she removed my shirt; if anything, she was somehow even more beset with passion.

She moved her hands to my back, working her way up toward the clasp of my bra. Deftly, she unhooked it in a single fell swoop, allowing my breasts to fall free.

Her jaw literally dropped at the sight of them. I don't think they're all that impressive—DD-cups aren't really that uncommon on a woman as heavy as me, and I was of the age at which gravity had ceased to be my friend—but she couldn't take her eyes off of them.

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Or her hands, for that matter. There are no words to describe how her hands felt on my bare breasts. Her touch was strong and firm, but at the same time, soft in a way that a man's hands could never compare to. She massaged and squeezed my heavy breasts, caressed them with her palms, and ran her fingernails over them. I trembled under her touch, overcome with the deep desire for this to never, ever stop.

I thought I might faint from the pleasure when her attention turned to my nipples. A current ran through my veins. "Oh, God," I said aloud, so many times in those few minutes that I was certain the Divine must be screening my calls at this point.

Is saying "Oh, God," during sex the prayer equivalent of accidentally pocket-dialing someone?

("Hello, Father," I imagined His archangel-secretary telling Him. "You have fifty missed calls from a very horny middle-aged priest who keeps butt-dialing you while being felt up by an acolyte...")

[kiasusam]

"Holy shit," she gasped. "They're so perfect. I want them in my mouth."

Now it was my jaw that fell, nearly hitting my lap.

In your mouth?

There was nothing I could have possibly desired more in the world than to let her do just that. Her mouth was so warm and inviting, and her tongue so agile. I couldn't even imagine how good it would feel for her to suck on my nipples.

"Lie back," she instructed me, and I acquiesced without a second thought. Straddling my hips, she bent over me. She placed her tongue just above my navel and began to flick it against my skin. It was electrifying. Everywhere she kissed and licked, my body came alive, my nerve endings rising up to meet her talented tongue. She traced the curve of my hipbone and each of my ribs, licking and sucking my skin, plunging me deeper into the throes of lust.

When her rose-petal lips finally enveloped one of my painfully erect nipples, I screamed. I grabbed her by her hair and told her not to stop. She didn't have to be told that twice. She sucked like she was starving, devouring as much of my breast as she could get into her mouth at once. My oversized nipples, which I'd always been a bit self-conscious about because of my tendency to high-beam, proved to be the perfect size and shape for her luscious little mouth to latch onto. She switched after a while to the other breast, leaving one nipple coated in saliva and exposed to the cold air while she drew the other into her warm, soft mouth. She placed one of her knees between my legs, and my hips rocked against it.

"Ooooh, you're wet," she murmured. "Don't worry; I'll lick it all up in just a little bit."

My body shook uncontrollably as she finished sucking my nipples and sat up again. "God, you look so good," she growled, shimmying my pencil skirt off of my hips and leaving me in nothing but my panty hose.

"Thank you, baby," I said. "But you're a little overdressed."

"I can fix that." She pulled off her dress. Her bra and panties matched—sort of a sky blue with black lace trim. I never in a million years thought I'd care about anyone's underwear, but there was something about seeing her in hers that evoked a very primal, erotic response in me. I wanted to take them off of her. Preferably with my teeth. I was even digging the dangling silver belly ring she wore—somehow totally forgetting the weapons-grade meltdown I'd had not even fifteen years earlier when my eldest daughter came home with one in eleventh grade. Now I was imagining tugging Julie's with my teeth. Oh God, where was all of this coming from?

"Very nice," I said. "You look amazing."

"You too." She caressed my thighs with her manicured fingernails, careful not to run my hose. "Mother Leah? I'd really like to take these off of you, if that's okay."

"Yes," I growled, barely resisting the urge to yank the stupid things off myself. "Please."

She nodded, her own arousal matching mine. Now that she had my consent, she wasted no time getting me out of my panty hose and my white cotton underwear. She stripped them off of me carefully but purposefully. As they lay on the floor beside the bed, I was completely naked, covered by nothing but the blonde thicket of hair between my legs, which was now sopping wet.

She continued to stroke my thighs, gazing at me as though I were the most beautiful piece of art she had ever seen. As her hands went higher and higher on my thighs with each caress, I felt myself begin to whimper, wordlessly begging her to touch me where I needed it most.

"I want you so bad, Mother Leah," she said in a low, sultry voice. The only response I could muster was a visceral groan. She cupped the mound in her hand and I thought my heart might stop.

She ran her thumb slowly up and down the slit formed by my outer lips, telling me she had never seen anything so beautiful. I hardly thought of myself as attractive down there, even before I'd had three kids. I shuddered to think of how it must look now. But she assured me that it was perfect—perfectly soft, perfectly pink, perfectly lovely. I have to admit—as my self-consciousness about my body gave way to her onslaught of praise and adoration, I felt the most beautiful I had ever felt in my life.

67914

[kiasusam]

Every nerve in my body stood at attention, totally enraptured by her tender touch, which became more and more urgent as her thumb probed deeper into the sopping wet crease.

"You have the perfect little pink pussy," she told me. I still wasn't used to hearing her curse, but it was strangely arousing. "It's so soft. And, fuck, you smell so good. Does that feel good? You like this? Good."

"Yes," I responded between jagged breaths.

I could feel my heart pounding in my fingertips and the soles of my feet. My body was overcome with pleasure, like a series of increasingly-powerful waves crashing against the shore. Her fingers cupped my inner labia, applying deep pressure, massaging me in small, tight circles. "Oh, God," I moaned.

"OMG."

Without stopping what she was doing, she told me she wanted to taste me. I shuddered hard, overwhelmed by arousal at that thought.

This was it—this was the moment I had wondered about in the darkest, most secret parts of my mind. This is where my thoughts had wandered time and time again while Charlie had fumbled around down there with his thick fingers, fiddling with my anatomy like he was trying to operate a radio dial. As I worked myself up to yet another Broadway-worthy performance of a fake orgasm, a part of me that I was ashamed of always wondered what it would be like to feel a woman's velvet tongue there instead of a man's clumsy fingers.

Well, you're about to find out.

As tongue replaced fingers, I let out a shriek. I was loud, obnoxiously loud, and I didn't care. Whatever shame I probably ought to have felt had been bound, gagged, and locked in a soundproof basement.

Her lips and her tongue felt better than I could have possibly begun to imagine. She slurped up my juices almost as fast as they could gush out of me. When she came up for air, I could see that nearly her whole face was sticky and wet, and a small trail was dripping off her chin. The force with which my hips bucked against her face would make a mechanical bull jealous.

Her thumb massaged my sloppy, wet opening while she continued sucking and lapping at me with her tongue. Slowly—so painfully slowly—she slipped two of her perfect fingers inside of me. My hips strained against her hand, engulfing her fingers deeper and deeper into me, meeting each increasingly forceful stroke. The harder my hips gyrated, the more deeply her face was buried in my aching pussy—if she can call it that, so can I—and the more ravenously she devoured me.

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Her pointer finger joined her ring and middle fingers, then her pinky. The force behind her frantic thrusting continued to increase. Who knew a girl so petite could be so strong?

I grabbed her by her hair and ground my pussy into her beautiful face, humping it like a wild animal. Her tongue matched the enthusiasm of my hips. No matter how hard my body bucked, she kept up fairly effortlessly. Oh, to be twenty years old again.

The room was spinning. Everything was blurry. I could barely breathe. My body was entirely outside my control, as was my voice. Loudly, deeply, I grunted over and over, almost certain I was going to explode from the overwhelming ecstasy my body was experiencing.

I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. So consumed was I by pleasure and desire that nothing inside of me functioned except the force that kept my pussy pressed into her face.

67920

Every muscle in my body contracted violently. With a moan so deafening that I thought the windows might shatter, I came. My first real orgasm ripped through me with all the force of a tornado, wrecking me, emptying me, then filling my abdomen with constellations of glittering stars and phosphorescent.

Slowly, lazily, I found my way back down to earth, guided by the faint sensation of her warm tongue lapping at my opening, licking me clean. I whimpered and shook, totally helpless, having been thoroughly ravaged by my talented, beautiful young lover.

[kiasusam]

My Juliette, my love.

She sat up and stretched out her arms, wiping her come-soaked face on the blanket.

"Wow," she said. "That was amazing. How do you feel?"

I chuckled wryly, not really sure how to answer. "Whole."

"Good," she replied, her voice still husky with pent-up lust.

"Julie, baby? I want to do that for you, too. I'm just worried I won't be any good at it. I've never done anything like this before."

"Start with a couple of little kisses," she suggested. "Go slow. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with—just go with the flow, and see what feels natural to you."

With what little strength I had recovered at that point, I hoisted myself up into a sitting position. "Take your bra off and lie down," I ordered, with all the authority of a priest speaking to an acolyte.

She removed her bra and lay back. I could smell her arousal as I kissed my way down her body. I fondled her heavy breasts, taking the opportunity to suckle each nipple. It was so primal; it felt so viscerally right. It was as if her nipples were designed with my mouth in mind. I could have sucked on her breasts forever and then some.

With her permission, I eased her lacy blue panties off of her. She was completely clean-shaven, which surprised me a bit; I had never seen that in real life. I could see wetness beginning to leak from the crevice that split her hairless mound in two. I took that as a compliment.

She slipped two pillows under her ass to make things easier for me. "Use your thumb and forefinger to pull the outer lips apart," she advised me. "And then do whatever feels right. Just go with your instincts. Whatever you do will feel good, I promise."

My heart filled with the excitement of a child about to open the biggest present under the Christmas tree, crossed with the nerves I felt before preaching my first sermon.

I started with a small, hesitant kiss. I looked up at her face, and she was smiling, encouraging me to do it again. So I gave her another kiss, this time more deeply. She let out a small noise. I kept going, growing bolder with each kiss, enjoying her response. Before I even knew it, I was sucking on her soft, pink petals, pulling them into my mouth and bathing them with my eager tongue. My ministrations were met with rocking hips and small, rhythmic moans.

I'm eating a woman out.

And she likes it.

I had crossed this forbidden line, gone where I never thought I'd have the guts to go, and yet, navigating this brave new world was as natural as my next breath.

I let my tongue duck and dive among the luscious pink folds, exploring every square millimeter. The intense warmth and exquisite texture—somewhere between satin and the petals of a magnolia flower—made my heart race.
The taste wasn't at all disagreeable, either. I had been worried about that, but the reality was a pleasant surprise. It wasn't fishy or dirty like I had feared it might be—it was very light and slightly sweet with a hint of musk. It was definitely wet, but not slimy on my tongue. "Silky" is a more accurate descriptor. It was heavenly, really.

She likes it.

And I like it, too.

And I love her.

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My clumsy lips and tongue began to find a rhythm, and soon her body ebbed and flowed in time with me. Her breathing became increasingly shallow and sharp, punctuated by whimpers. The sweet, silky liquid flowed freely, a libation of rich, earthy nectar coating my mouth inside and out. Her bent knees quivered and her heels dug into my rib cage slightly. One of her hands cupped the back of my head, her fingers tangled up in my hair.

[kiasusam]

I paused for a brief moment to catch my breath, and to ask, "May I put my fingers in?"

"God, yes," she gasped. "Please. Yes."

I turned my hand palm-up and began to gently slide my middle and ring finger inside her. Her body offered no resistance at all, engulfing my fingers easily. She was ready for me, slick and warm and aching to be filled.

"Harder," she said. "Don't worry. I won't break."

I happily obliged, letting the twisting and thrashing of her hips guide me. My whole body, mind, and soul were consumed by her—the sound of her hungry moans, her sweet taste, the way her labia felt in my mouth and against my tongue, the lovely warmth and softness my fingers found inside her—and in the moment, the whole universe was contained within her, and flowed through her, and was her.

I became engrossed in pleasing her in a way I can only compare to the way it feels to stand behind the altar, caught up in the great and holy mystery of the Eucharist, calling down the Spirit of God upon the Host and the Cup.

Take.

Eat.

This is my body.

Nothing else I have ever experienced even comes close to the way I felt as my young lover trembled and quaked in response to my touch. Her writhing hips grew more and more insistent, forcing my fingers deeper into her, pressing the balls of her bare feet into the floor on either side of me for leverage.

"Fuck me," she begged as I slammed my hand in and out of her body. "Don't stop."

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A shriek about two octaves above middle C poured forth from between her parted lips as her body spasmed violently. I never fancied myself the type of woman who would be aroused by the sound of a noisy lover in the throes of ecstasy, let alone one whose ecstasy took the form of a high-pitched scream. But coming from her, it was music—an aria of passion sung by a goddess to a woefully unworthy mortal.

Her body trembled weakly as the great tidal wave within her crashed aggressively, leaving her breathless. She released a gush of thick, creamy, sweet liquid. I lapped it up gratefully, savouring the taste. I continued penetrating her with my fingers, slow and deep, not wanting this moment to end.

Another great wave overtook her, and again she screamed, her body and voice totally outside of her control. After her third and most powerful orgasm ripped through her body, she was still. I used my tongue to clean her up slowly.

"Mother Leah," she said, in a voice so painfully small that it tugged at my heart a bit harder than I could bear. "Will you lie down with me?"

"Of course, love." I lay on my back beside her, and helped maneuver her so that she was on her side with her head on one of my collarbones, and supported her back with my arm. I felt healing energy flow through my hand onto her skin, as though I had anointed her and laid hands on her for the purpose of unction.

My other hand supported the back of her head, my fingers wading in her dark, soft curls. Her legs soon became intertwined with mine. We rested together, sharing sweet little kisses and nuzzles, enjoying the closeness.

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Noticing the scent of my lingering wetness, she reached her hand down between my legs. Cupping the fluffy blonde mound, she repositioned herself so that her head was on my belly, and began to lazily massage me with her hand. The angle was a bit awkward, and she was exhausted, but her touch was electrifying where I needed it most. "Oh, God" I murmured, digging my fingertips into her back. I had no idea how badly I needed to come until just then, and it wasn't long before her gentle but firm touch provided the release I ached for, allowing me to relax completely.

"Thank you, Julie," I said. "That was nice."

"You're welcome," she said, kissing my lips sweetly before snuggling back up with me. She began licking her thumb and fingers clean, which filled her with an almost childlike delight. "You taste so good, Mother Leah," she told me. "See?"

[kiasusam]

She placed her ring finger and her little finger, still sticky with my juices, in my mouth. I was a bit startled by my own taste—it was very different from hers. Mine was darker, earthier, and muskier. It wasn't sweet, and I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I did hers. Still, I sucked her long, slender fingers clean, taking my time and savouring the feeling of them in my mouth. It was erotic and soothing all at once. "Good girl," I murmured to her. "Good girl."

Then Julie began kissing me—very delicately on my lips at first, but before long, she was kissing me deep in my mouth, cupping my cheek with her gentle hand that I had just helped her lick my own come off of. Kissing someone who has no purpose or end in mind is rather different, I found, from kissing someone who is quaking with passion and already has their mind in your pants. This was the former. We simply kissed for the sake of kissing, and it seemed to go on forever. She kissed me slowly, deeply, lazily. It was the most luxurious and heavenly experience. I couldn't remember the last time I had been kissed for no particular reason except that someone found me lovely.

Why?

Why would she want me? Why would she choose me?

I'm nothing. I'm...

"You are so beautiful," she told me between kisses, as she caught her breath. "Oh, I could just kiss you all day."

To be an object of lust for a horny 20 year-old was difficult enough to comprehend, but now she was kissing me. Just kissing me, breathing me in, cradling my face in her hands as the light of a thousand stars spilled in through her bedroom window. Now she was simply showing me love and affection, treating me like a princess, loving me for the sake of loving me.

This was the single most romantic moment of my entire life. A burning hot tear spilled onto my cheek as her soft words clashed with the voices in my head.

"Sorry," I muttered, sure that my tears would kill the mood.

"It's okay," she whispered, pressing her forehead into mine and nuzzling my nose and cheeks. "It's okay. You can cry. I've got you." She caught the tear with her thumb, and gently brushed it away. "All your tears are safe with me. You're okay." She was concerned, not annoyed.

Despite the slow, silent tears that continued to fall from my eyes, I let my lips brush against hers again, beckoning her back into that warm and tender place of endless, sweet kisses. "Yes, please," she whispered, and I kissed her again, and again, and again...

I woke up in darkness, naked, my body tangled up with Julie's.

Julie, the most beautiful 20-year-old on the planet, my cheerful little acolyte who served God and the Church with such infectious joy, who always had a hug and a kind word for everyone she met.

Julie, whose body had moved with mine as I made love to her, whose taste still lingered on my tongue, whose shrieks of pleasure I had not only witnessed but caused.

My little love began to stir in my arms, and I squeezed her tighter, hoping she would feel perfectly safe as she awoke. I kissed her forehead and she squealed quietly. She was so comfortable in my arms, and I in hers.

My ex-husband wasn't much of a cuddler. I don't know that I ever slept—or woke up in—his embrace.

My daughters weren't terribly affectionate, either. The last time I truly cuddled with any of them was probably when they were preschoolers. I'm the only really cuddly person in my family, a fact that was sometimes difficult for me. I craved closeness and warmth, even as my divorce, the death of my mother, and other hardships caused me to close myself off more and more from the people around me. I needed to be held, but I had forgotten how to ask for it.

But Julie didn't need me to ask. She didn't need me to say a thing. She simply gave love, and gave it with abandon. I had read about this feeling countless times during the trashy beach novel phase I went through about five years back—this feeling of holding your lover in your arms and not needing to say a single word—but I had never experienced it. The sense of union was incredible—we seemed to live and breathe as a single soul and a single body. I had no idea where I began and she ended. I held her, and she held me, for what seemed like a lifetime, and yet, wasn't nearly long enough.

67924

And the two shall become one flesh.

I remembered sitting at the lunch table in seminary one time with a few classmates, one of whom—the undisputed class clown—half-jokingly wondered aloud just what kind of sex St. Mark must have been having that would inspire him to put it that way.

Now I knew.

Really good sex, apparently.



The. End.....


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