She took my hand under the table, she was sensitive enough to understand that a public display of non family affection might be frowned on. "I like my sex with you, hard, oral, messy, anything. I like having my mouth fucked. By you."
"Wouldn't you be better of with someone your own age?"
"No, I tried it. I am not prepared to be a practise ground for boys who don't want to learn, just stick it in and unload, then run. It wouldn't be so bad if they made an effort to understand how a woman feels, but they aren't interested. So, no. Anyway, I fancy you something wicked! You are a very sexy man."
I grinned, flattered, but aware that her view was coloured by her satisfaction earlier. "And you are a very sexy woman." I called her a woman, not a girl, because we had talked as equals. "I'll talk to Liz. If she really doesn't mind, if we can all make the same date, we'll have another threesome."
Her eyes glowed. "Great, I have some fantastic ideas, now I know you better, now I know what you like. Can you imagine," her voice was low, her eyes sparkled, "me in some very sexy silk underwear? Tactile, smooth, but with inviting gaps? Knickers that are so high cut but with sides that gape? A body that undoes underneath? Shall I grow my pubic hair again, or do you like me shaven? Do you want to shave me? Yes, that's it, you can tie me down, then shave me. Do you like leggings? They clin g so close, no knickers of course, not with leggings, but a silky top, unbuttoned to the waist and leggings. Or what about my school uniform?"
"Whoa, that would be a little too close to the truth!" But she could tell by the way that my eyes sparkled that her suggestions in general had found a home.
"OK, OK, so what about a swimming costume I designed, couldn't use it, of course, but I'll show you. You'll love it. I have some ideas for Liz too, she has such a beautiful body, doesn't she? A jersey wool dress, mini, nothing else, her nipples straining at the cloth. Her tutu, that's quite something, she looks terrific, but with modifications. And.. no, I'll make you wait. When next, the holidays finish the end of August?"
She asked me to stop around the corner in a very quiet road, then dived down and extracted me. "I knew it! My fault, I just have to let you down, then I'll go quietly, OK?" Her lips were on me, gentle this time, subtle, her tongue exploring and manipulating me, then she took me into her throat and sucked, caressing my balls as she worked. I was massaging her clitoris with two fingers inside her. It worked, very well indeed. She was clean and tidy too, nary a dribble left, then she tucked me away and zipped me up. She kissed me softly and sensually, after gulping down her mouthful with evident joy, then left, like Cinderella.
The next week was called off, because Liz's Mum split up with whoever and she stayed home. Then I was on holiday, for two good weeks in Devon and Cornwall, with a side trip to the Scilly Isles. I put off thinking of either of them for a few weeks, though admittedly, when I secretly masturbated, I thought mostly of Liz. With the occasional sneaky recollection of Sara. It wasn't until mid September that I heard from her again, and then only a phone call. Then, at the beginning of October, w e arranged a night in an hotel in Edinburgh. It was a last minute disaster, called off, because Mum had changed her arrangements and Sara's cover was blown. Half term was at the end of October. We managed an evening at Liz's, just the two of us, frustrating, desperate and frantic. I had to go by eleven, before Mum came home. We were both left feeling that we were missing something. Then, late November, I got the offer of a short term rental on a flat that was being sold, three months. At last, a let that ma tched my contract, which had been renewed in two or three month chunks since January, and a rise, OK, so only fifty pounds per week, but worth having. Many people would be happy with my rise, alone!
I moved in and bought some things, brought some from home. It would cost more than the B & B, I didn't need it, for four nights a week, but I wanted it. To stop the necessity of going down to a pub every night to eat, so often drinking more than I wanted to. The phone, electricity and gas were changed to my name, then I was ready when Liz next rang. "Come to me, I have a flat."
She was excited. "What about Sara?"
"What do you want?"
"It's fun with her, I like using the camera. You can't imagine how often I watch our video."
"Yes, I like to show off, but there are limits. Just me, and your present. Er, you couldn't get another, could you?"
For Sara, I knew. I already had. Now I didn't have to explain, I understood. "OK, next Monday night, maybe Tuesday?"
"I have to work during the day!"
"And we have to build an alibi!"
"OK, meet you at the station?"
"We'll come to you, where?"
I gave her the address, directions, phone number and the name on the buzzer. Monday night came, I cleaned frantically and prepared food. Then the buzzer.
"Hi, Liz, right to the top and it's on the left. Only sixty stairs!" I had counted them, every one, carrying heavy cases. I acted coolly, waiting for the knock, then opened the door. God, they were beautiful, it was a miracle they hadn't been hijacked. I had to open my arms and cuddle them both close to me. They explored, I made coffee, asked if they ate everything and fed them. That was terrific for me, being host. Liz bounced on the bed and approved, rattling the iron bars of the head. "Good for tying to!", she announced, with a lopsided grin. I had just seen 'Basic Instinct', and wasn't so sure!
I took coats and stashed them, admiring everything they had to offer. Sara had filled out, a little more rounded and Liz had grown half an inch! I was suddenly reminded that they were both still growing, turning into women. Sara dressed and presented herself as a mature young woman now, Liz still dressed as a teenager, she had nothing to prove.
We ate, en famille, we had three chairs only at the dining table, it worked. Only two full size plates, but plenty of leeway with an assortment of smaller ones. I swear I could see Sara's stomach grow as she ate, Liz seemed to hide it somewhere. We relaxed on the settee, one in each arm, at peace. It was the first occasion where we knew we had two nights and no need to rush. I felt very homey, very much at one with the pair of them.
Eventually, Liz broached a subject that had been on her mind. "Look, Peter, I think you ought to know, that before you came along, Sara and I used to, well, we used to make love with each other. We still like to, but you showed us something better. I just thought you ought to know!"
"Liz, Liz, I know, it was obvious from the way you knew her body, before. Anyway, that's your business. I hope you still enjoy each other, with me and after me."
"You aren't stopping, are you?" Her eyes were frightened.
I cuddled her close. "No, no, how could I? But there will come a time when both of you meet someone, and I become something of the past. I hope a fond memory, I hope we remain friends and you come and tell me all about your new loves. Life moves very quickly for seventeen year olds."
Liz bit her lip. "Sara is sixteen, we tried to fool you. Does it matter?"
"Of course not." I gathered that Sara hadn't confessed to our almost celibate evening together. Her eyes confirmed.
"I've missed you." Sara confessed. "I've given up Robbie, in fact I've given up everyone except you and Liz. They are all so juvenile!"
I could see her point, I was old enough to make her father look juvenile!
"How about you, Liz? How's London?"
"Full of dirty old men pressing against you on the tube. Even the boys at college are a drag. No one."
"I don't expect total loyalty, you know!"
"So I should hope! Then Liz cuddled close. "But you have it, for the moment at least." She paused, then added, "This is the longest we have been together with all our clothes on!"
It wasn't true, the train, and dinner that first night, but I knew what she meant. She wore jeans and a tee shirt, possibly those in which I had first met her. I knew her budget was very limited. Sara wore red velvet shorts, are hot pants back in vogue?, with black tights and a lighter red clingy silky top. I guessed her clothes budget was bigger. She saw me admire her and asked shyly, "Notice any difference?"
She had had her hair trimmed, but the most noticeable difference was her increased bust. "Bigger boobs?"
"You noticed! I'm growing!"
"And you Liz, must be taller."
"Five feet and half an inch!", she agreed proudly. She stroked my belly. "And I guess you have lost half a stone, off here. You don't have to for me, you know. It's cuddly."
It was family time, my odd Glasgow family. Scottish family. We were all much more relaxed than we had been before, because we had privacy and time. The flat was approved, the food approved and a little more honesty had been admitted. Sara burst out, "I have so many new ideas, for tonight and tomorrow, I hope we have time!"
"Oh, only refinements, little things. I'll be back in a minute."
She used the toilet and returned, dressed much as before but with a subtle difference. No shoes, and her blouse was unbuttoned to the waist, her bra was gone. Vamp! Instant reaction.
Liz giggled. "Well, I fancy you, Sara."
"So do I, of course I do." But I remembered our conversation and wasn't so surprised.
"Liz, come here a minute!", Sara insisted.
Liz uncurled and followed her, curiously. They returned minutes later, Sara as she had been, Liz transformed. She wore a short silky shift top in dark grey pearlescent material and silky, scalloped edged high cut knickers of almost the same set. Nothing else. My heart leaped, because she, or probably more precisely, Sara, had remembered the Lambarda knickers. "I feel such a mess, in comparison.!"
"No, no, you in a suit is great, that's you. Or you could dress a little more casually, if you want. I brought a video player, a small one. Do you want to see our video?", Sara asked. "Dad's an equipment freak."
I let them set it up, and changed into dark grey slacks and a new green silky shirt that Chris had bought me the previous week, with my 'I've been Upgraded' Novell NetWare lawn boxer shorts. Comfortable. When the video started, I was conscious of how amateur the production was, but they were the same sexy women. No, they weren't, because they had both become more patient, more sophisticated and they had both grown somewhere. Sara looked much more rounded now, Liz taller, all in her legs, now elegant. What a change a few weeks can wreak.
The last few shots, particularly that of me taking Liz from behind and Sara, bridged in the leotard reminded me what was so special about sex and love with these two. The pure blatant joy of it. Seeing them caress each other was a pleasure. Then there was a new section, on the same tape, obviously added during our enforced separation. Sara was the star, presumably because Liz was the camera woman. I understood the reasons for the confession, it was necessary before I saw this. Sara oiled herself lasciviously, all over, naked on a bed I didn't recognise in a spacious elegantly furnished room.
"My room.", she explained. She used Liz's dildo, which reminded me. I had presents for them both. It was much less frantic, no camera wobble, the quality was greatly improved. Liz had been learning. Then she bathed, washing off the oil and soaping herself, for some reason kneeling back to camera to wash herself underneath. She was a natural, responding to the camera with some barely heard prompting from Liz. I enjoyed it.
Then the tape was finished and I felt Sara's hands at my groin. Liz had the camera ready and loaded, with a one legged short expanding tripod. Or monopod? So, it was Sara's night, at least at first. She knelt in front of me on the mat and slowly unwrapped me. She eased down my trousers and shorts, laughing at the logo, nodding, leaving my shirt on but carefully unbuttoned all the way down. Had I not been ready before, I certainly was now!
She caressed me with her hands, allowing me to unbutton her red shirt and expose her more rounded breasts, as the shirt fell open. She stopped me taking it off, though. Then her two hands held me as her mouth opened and her tongue caressed my tip, gently and lovingly. Her lips enclosed me, sucking, her tongue still at work. One hand left my shaft to cup my balls and her mouth engulfed me. She was hot, and definitely involved now, as her stern wriggled excitedly. I held her breasts, now ro under and more firm, still very sensitive.
"Sara, I can't hold back much longer." I held her cheeks, stroking her smooth skin, her shoulders and her neck, then sliding her shirt from her shoulders. She shrugged it off, then used her hands to cup me and explore my body, from ears to knees, as she stood on her toes and pushed her mouth down, my tip deep in her throat, as she sucked and writhed. I felt her start to buck as she came with barely a touch to her breasts. I exploded in her mouth, down her throat, then she lifted her head so that she could feel me spurt into her mouth. Next, she held me again and looked up into my eyes with hers ablaze. She dribbled a little of me, licking it up, as she asked, "Better?"
I hugged her to me, her face against my stomach. "Very loving and very skilful. Thank you." My voice sounded stilted even to me. "Now, let me taste you?" I didn't ask for permission as such. I helped her to stand and slowly slid her shorts down. She wore a breathtaking heart shaped pad held on by strings underneath, nominally knickers. They came away too. I guided her into stepping from them, then lifted her onto the settee. Then I knelt before her and kissed her. This time, she was soft and giving, rather than hard and desperate as before. She opened her mouth to me and her legs naturally followed suit. I caressed her inner thighs in encouragement, then kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts with their hard pink nipples, which made her wriggle with pleasure, then trailed my tongue down her chest and licked out her navel. She shuddered, a new area of pleasure for her. Her abdomen was not as flat as before, a gentle convex curve, dinner. I kissed and licked it, approaching my target.
She breathed "At last!", as my tongue entered the beginning of the now furry slit. She had grown her pubic hair, it wasn't long or bushy, blonde down. A real blonde. "A real blonde, eh?"
"Of course, you didn't think..." She caught her breath as I leaned her back and found her love button in the open valley between her tight pink labia. Her legs pulled back. At a nudge from Liz, I sat back a second for her and the camera, then kissed her again. My thumb slipped into her opening, as I enclosed the naked topped button with my lips and probed with my tongue. She was delicious. Another thumb slipped in, then I remembered her present. Now was the time to give it to her, anyway, I had never used a dildo on her, I was excited at the prospect. I un-boxed it with one hand, batteries were already fitted, and slipped the tip in where my thumb had been. Then I withdrew my other thumb and twisted the bottom, one notch, vibration, all whilst suckling at her clitoris like a baby. I pushed it further in, then twisted another notch for thrusting and vibrating.
"Christ, I'm comin', I'm coming!" She bucked against me her muscles working overtime, but I kept rasping my tongue over until she was coming continuously. "OK, OK, enough, great, fantastic, finish, I'm finished." Yet her hands held my head against her tightly. I kept on until her muscular spasms subsided. Then I looked up at her face, relaxed, mouth slightly open, sucking the tip of her thumb as she released my head. I switched off her new friend and slowly withdrew it. "I hope you like y our new present!"
She sat forward, poking me in the eye with a hard nipple. "Mine?", she shrieked.
"Yours, all yours."
She hugged me and smothered me in kisses and tears ebbed from her tightly closed eyes. "I love it, but only if you use it on me. And kiss me like that..."
I laughed, hugging her. I was so pleased for her, every woman should have one, for those moments of need.
Liz put down her camera and complained, "It's all very well, this filming, but I feel left out!"
I hugged her bottom to me, my face buried in silky knickers. I let my fingers sneak in at the far side and caressed her bush, so luxuriant in comparison, though still a little sparse in absolute terms. I stroked gently, not penetrating her valley at all, and she came, pressed against my face, her legs parted and her body hotly thrusting.
"Now, I can concentrate, go back to what you two were doing." She stepped back and picked up the camera again.
"Well, Sara, my downy bird, how about the real thing?" I stroked her soft short hair.
"Come on then, I bet you are better." She opened her arms and her legs. The position was awkward for me, so I turned her over. What a delicious sight, two tight buttocks, a pink twisted muscle of her anus, then her opening, the labia now flushed and parted. I entered her slowly, just my tip, Liz filming from close at the side, then from the floor between my legs. I held her hips and thrust in, then stabbed and withdrew repeatedly. I was feeling a little savage. I could penetrate her deepl y, I thrust hard, having engaged my tip, bursting in as she squeaked a little, then I felt her grip me. I hammered away, never leaving her vagina, afraid I might not get back in.
It was working for me and had already worked at least twice for her, I heaved her hip bones back onto me, standing now, all her weight on me, her head down on the settee, her feet tucked under the cushions, then I burst inside. I can't describe why, but it feels so much better when you can get hard in, bone to bone. Not as good as Liz's inner recesses, but good. I felt a moments regret, I wanted to impregnate her, to lay my seed within her. Just as well I couldn't!
Then we were finished. I held her hips as I withdrew, springing up, flicking across her anus as I escaped. Then I smacked her bum, it was just too too tempting, held high like that. She shrieked with shock and rounded on me, lithe like a cat that has fallen, and sank her mouth over me and bared her teeth. "Now, who is going to smack who?" Or I think that is what she said.
I laughed. "Don't speak with your mouth full, it's rude."
Sara laughed too and let me go. "Best ever, thank you, Mr. Sinclair."
Why do women call me that, afterwards? I've often wondered if it is something to do with the name, or just mock respect, or ... I don't know. Suffice to say that she wasn't the first, and they weren't all sixteen, by any means. I bowed. "My pleasure, Miss..." I was embarrassed for a second, because all I knew was Sara.
My blood ran cold. It wasn't a common name. Our Chief Executive at The Company, ex Ford, is Geoff Koronsky. I had just fucked the chairman designate's sixteen year old daughter, on video!
"Geoff Koronsky is your father?"
"Yes, do you know him?". She was interested.
"Not know, but I've met him, shaken hands, passed a few words. Don't ever forget yourself and mention my name, will you! There aren't many Sinclairs or Koronskys."
"Oh, I didn't want to say anything, I forgot he must be well known. Forget whose daughter I am, I'm just Sara, OK?" Her eyes pleaded.
"Better that way, I think."
Sara looked across to Liz. "I feel awful, I've been a pig, you two have hardly touched. Swap?"
Liz sighed. "I hope you can work this thing, because I'll never forgive you if you mess up. New batteries and tape." She instructed Sara, who watched with amusement. It was her camera!
"Coffee break?", I suggested, "or wine, or Champagne. Cava actually, but it's good." So we had coffee first, then opened the bottle of Cava chilled from the fridge and used whisky glasses, because the owner of the flat used to work for a distiller, we had loads of them. We were thirsty, we gulped the bottle down and relaxed again, Liz almost tiddly. Certainly giggly. They told me stories of the attempts of mere men to get them into bed, or whatever, usually fully aware of what were no dou bt carefully planned 'accidental' meetings and touches. Although they treated it as a joke, I could tell that they were bored with it. Hence me, no doubt.
I took little Liz in my arms and kissed her deeply, her mouth fresh from the clean cool wine. As we kissed, my important member came back to life. Both had been too polite to comment on it's shrunken size. I was surprised that it sprang back to life so quickly. I used the opportunity to disrobe her slowly, not that there was much to remove. Then I stood back and looked at her, because strangely, close to you cannot see and she is so beautiful, so slim and so woman shaped. My fingers and t humbs could almost meet around her tiny waist, they could if I squeezed. Her breasts thrust against my chest, high, proud and round.
She stood off and twirled for me, understanding, but then she so often did. I applauded gently, then took her back in my arms and picked her up, to carry her to the bedroom.
"Hey, I don't have a camera dolly!", Sara protested, following us. She switched on the overhead light, only the bedside lamp was on. "We need light!"
I kissed Liz all over, hesitating lengthily over her perfect breasts, then concentrating on her forest and burying my face against her engorged skin. Her clitoris stood out proudly in its valley, reminding me of the lonely crag of Carreg Cennen castle. I opened my mouth wide and sucked all of her, her opening and her clitoris all at once, my tongue inside her and my upper lip worrying at her mound. She came wetly in my mouth, which I licked up. She was salty. I pulled the tiny cotton cord that my tongue found. OK, so it was her period. I wrapped the Tampax in tissues and dragged a towel under her.
"I didn't know how to tell you, but I wasn't going to be left out! Do you mind?"
I inhaled her musty fragrance and buried my face. "I love you, just as you are, however you are. Perfectly natural, and on heat!"
"I do feel incredibly randy. I was just going to film, tonight, but..." I heard her crying as I entered her from above, cuddling her body with mine. I slowly and gently eased my way in, because the sanitary equipment had soaked up much of her natural lubrication. She eased, then became slippery, and welcoming. I could see her face concentrate, her teeth over her bottom lip as she strained to open inside, then the slow soft smile and her languorous eyes opened as she let me through. "I did it!", she whispered triumphantly, "I bet there will be a flood, afterwards."
"I am going to flood you, my tiny minx. Can you feel my tip sliding through, can you feel me deep inside you, parting your body, Liz, I'm going to come, oh, Liz, come with me, let yourself go now!" As my first spurt hit her, she erupted, lifting under me, I must be nearly twice her weight, yet she lifted me high off the bed and my weight forced me in, her legs went around me and her heels heaved me against her, "I want you all, balls and all, I wish I could take all of you in there, I lov e you Peter, I need you so much, it's been hell waiting!"
She was a little tearful, then brightened considerably. "That was loving, lovely. And very deeply sexy, you should always talk to me, I want to be you as well, I want to know how it is for you. I want to excite you, make you frantic for me, I want to be beautiful for you."
"You are, Liz. Very beautiful." We rested on the bed, then the urge took me again and I took her a little less gently, but in the same position. She was wet, even squelchy by now, she could take it. I blasted in and out, from right out to deep in and through, long deep stroked, thrusting so hard, she came in seconds, but I didn't, I had to keep banging away, until at last, heaving at her body, I burst. We rested, she wiped the sweat from me and licked it up, then licked my face and neck l ike a cat. I shuddered inside her, she came again. Then she was spent.
"Sometimes, I like to be fucked rather than loved, though. That was good."
"I needed it. I'm not always a very nice person."
"There are millions of very nice people." Her tone was derogatory.
Sara dropped the camera and cuddled close. I was able to cover both their bodies, almost, as they wriggled close together beneath me. Liz moved a little, I withdrew slowly, a bunch of tissues ready. There was a flood, dark red though, no problem, bright red would have meant damage. She wriggled free and escaped to the loo, returning with a new cotton tail. I smiled and hugged her again, it was a very emotional night.
Then Sara slipped away and returned with a bowl of hot water, a cut throat razor and a towel, some shaving soap. I knew why.
"Are you that brave?"
"Yes." She wasn't sounding so sure.
"I haven't used a cut throat razor for years." I warned.
"You have! Oh, good, great, at least you have used one." She appeared greatly relieved.
Liz grinned. "Are you sure you didn't know about this?"
"What else would the kit be for, I noticed the fuzz."
"I'll be glad to be rid of it, I like to be clean under there."
Liz grabbed the camera. "If you have the guts, Sara, I have to film this!"
I arranged all the pillows in the centre of one side of the bed, allocated Liz a space by the window and selected four neckties. I tied her arms back to the iron bed head and her feet to the foot, her bum on the pillow so that she was lifted high. Then I lathered her, intimately, not forgetting the tiny hollows inside her thighs. I used a board from the kitchen with a tea towel over it to wipe the blade. Then I drew a broad swathe through the centre of her vee, and wiped the blade. Her s kin glowed pinkly and smoothly. I shaved her groin area, and then had to make a decision. Her legs were too closed, tied to the foot of the bed.
"Are you anything like as lithe as Liz?"
"Of course, why?"
"OK, simple." I untied one leg and brought it back over her shoulder and tied her ankle to the bed head. Then the other to the opposite side. She was forced up high, dragged wide open and totally exposed. Ideal. Liz was enthralled, the camera was to be denied nothing. Perfect. I could shave inwards from each inner thigh, through the hollow and across her outer labia. A very neat job, though I say it myself. I could feel her tension, as I parted the cheeks of her bottom and shaved away a f ew stray hairs around her anus. It twitched in fear! I was stiff as a board again! Then I held her labia open and shaved away some imaginary hairs from her inner labia and the little tuft that stands at the top of the valley. Finished, in very few strokes, so exposed was she. It must have excited her as much as me, because she was open. Wet and open. I used the hot flannel to wash the soap away, concentrating on her opening, her valley and all her most sensitive areas. Then I patted her dry, removed the od d tiny whisker and dried her again. I brought the dressing table mirror over and held it for her, the bedside light illuminating her perfectly through the mirror. "Is that satisfactory, madam?"
Her voice was tight, not just because her chin was hard against her chest. "Fuck me!", she squealed tightly.
"Not yet, madam, I must check my work first." I knelt and allowed my lips to explore in detail, lingering here and there.
"Use the dildo, then!"
"Now, now madam, do be patient." My best pompous barber voice. I penetrated her deeply with my tongue and sucked at her, the rubbed her with my finger tips as I sucked. She came in great bucking thrusts, I carried on, then when she least expected it, I leaned over her and stabbed home. She was wide open, I went in so easily, full depth, she groaned as I hit bottom. A couple of leisurely thrusts sent us both over the edge. "Fuck my baldy cunt!", she croaked, as I renewed my efforts, making her come almost continuously. I stopped, because the position was awkward, I was leaning on the bed head, but she was done anyway.
"Let me free, please.", she asked, in a small voice.
I looked at Liz, she looked at me and smiled, shaking her head. "No chance. I might want another fuck later, and with you like that, I can just slide in. I'll keep you like that, I think."
"I'll drown you, I need a pee!"
Her voice was desperate, strained. I brought up the bowl. "OK, so pee!"
"So am I!"
She groaned and close her eyes, then a pale yellow stream shot upwards at an angle. I was nearly too late, but I caught it on the way down, then followed back to her as the pressure failed and she stopped, spurted, then dribbled and finished. I wiped her carefully with a tissue, kissed her wetly and walked off.
"Bastard!", she croaked, as I emptied the bowl in the toilet and flushed.
I came back and smacked her exposed bottom. Just once, a sharp slap.
I smacked her again, twice, I wanted to, now.
I smacked her until my hand was hot, her bottom, her anus, her labia, her clitoris, everything was exposed. She shouted, or croaked, then when I stopped, "Bastard!"
I untied her and dragged her under me and fucked her mouth. She tried to bite me a little once or twice, but that only encouraged me. I came in her mouth, over her face, then back deep in her throat. Then I rolled off and she leaped on me, kissing and hugging and croaking and pressing her finger into my bottom, nibbling my nipples, biting and grabbing me and wanking me furiously, crying, "Do anything, demean me, beat me hard, please, hit me, hit me you bastard, bite me, piss on me, use me for a toilet, anything, do something, now!"
So I grabbed her by her beautiful blonde hair and pulled her into the living room, threw her to the floor and stood on her chest with one foot as I lifted the TV off a Black and Decker Workmate, then held her over it and tightened the vice on her arms, enough to trap her. I smacked her bum again, stuck my thumb inside her and lifted her on it, tickled her ribs until she writhed and dribbled urine down her leg, mopped it up, smacked her face and then released her, took her to the bathroom, dropped her gently into the bath then stood over her and held myself, ready to pee all over her, but I couldn't.
Liz yelled, "Go on, piss on her!"
Then I could. I pissed on her belly and her chest and her legs. She sat forward and caught my steam on her face, turning her eyes up to me in crazy mad adoration, I stopped and she was OK, not crazy any more. I showered her off and washed her body clean with a little soap, rinsed, then I patted her dry, I wrapped her in the towel and put her in front of the fire in the front room, on the rug. She stopped shivering.
Liz stopped filming, her face flushed, her body dancing, then she shot off to the loo and called, "Come and watch me pee, Peter, watch me." She stood across the bowl, seat up, her knees bent, as I stooped and watched as she started her stream, holding her self open so that I could see. I wiped her gently, taking the tissue from her hand and carried her in front of the fire too. They hugged, entwined, as I removed some of the debris and made the razor safe. I poured three stiff brandies an d brought them to the fireside.
"Thank you," Sara whispered, "I'll never forget that."
There wasn't much I could say, so I didn't. I hugged them both, then carried them one by one to the bed, leaving space for me in the middle. I slept on my back, with one crazy angel on each shoulder, they slept in seconds. That was the first four hours.
I expected to sleep the night through, but I reckoned without Liz, who seemed to sleep no more than four hours at a hit. By three in the morning her restless turning had woken us all. After some wriggling, I ended up making love to her doggy fashion whilst she kissed and fondled a sleepy soft Sara beneath her. I caressed them both, managing to handle Sara between her legs as well as slowly and lasciviously plunging to the hilt into Liz. Then of course we were wide awake! Even Sara.
"Let's see the video that we made, tonight?", Liz pleaded.
"Let's sleep!" Sara countered, but by then, she too was awake.
"I want to watch it." Liz insisted, stubbornly. "And I want you two there, so that I can feel your bodies."
"Shall I bring the TV and video in here?"
"Can you?" Sara was suddenly eager. Eager to stay in the warm bed.
"That's a great idea, I'll help. You can carry the telly!", Liz offered generously.
It was a twenty inch or something, anyway, heavy. I carried it in and placed in on a strange wooded structure, like an apple rack, that graced the bedroom, the video beneath, and away we went. The quality was much better, no jerky movements, no fast panning and zooming that tend to make you feel sick. The focus was good, the lighting arranged by Liz and Sara as they went on. Sara's last escapade produced the strongest reaction, I have never known a woman or a man physically climax by just watching, yet I am sure that Sara did.
"Why?", I asked curiously, hoping she would be able to enlighten me a little.
She shrugged. "I can't say. You actually hurt me with that smacking, that was half of it. I nearly died, the feeling was so intense, not the pain, something else. I felt incredibly loved. Even when you fixed me in the stocks, by the way, I did warn you that tickling makes me wet myself, when you hit my face, I felt so loved. After I managed to lose my inhibitions, you watching me wee made me so, so excited. When you peed on my face, I climaxed. Very wetly. I don't know, maybe it's just yo u."
"Maybe it's because your parents never hit you, as a child..." Liz suggested, knowing more of her background. I could imagine that, Geoff Koronsky came to The Company as Personnel Director, to supervise massive job cuts after a take-over, and stayed to do more.
"Maybe. Maybe it's because I was, am, often ignored, they are both so busy. Maybe it's just attention..."
Liz smiled. She was sitting on my lap with me up her bum, something that she seemed to like more than she cared to admit. "I better get off, I suppose. Come on, I'll wash you."
We separated and I was washed, then sucked and caressed, then brought back to the bed where I was set upon by both of them, their mouths and hands all over me. I discovered things about myself that I didn't know, like a finger up my bum excites, like my nipples are very sensitive too, although I did know that, I had forgotten, like having myself sucked slowly like a lollipop keeps me hard but doesn't make me come.
I discovered that Liz liked me in my boxer shorts, with it sticking out the side, because, as she said, "It looks so disgusting, I just have to eat it!" Hunting through my cupboard for more interesting things, she came upon an odd contraption, a mass of tapes and elastic. "What on earth is this?"
No one ever asked me that before. Chris has probably wondered, but didn't care to probe. Liz had no such reservations. I tried to explain. "When it's hot, my balls stick to my inner thighs. Driving can be quite painful, both legs pushed together, balls trapped between. I wear that to lift and bring them forward, so they don't get trapped."
They were intrigued. "How does it work?"
"Show us." From Sara, now fully awake, clutching her naked pubes with both hands as she sat cross legged.
I obliged, pulling up the elasticated waist strap, then putting the front loop from the waist band under my balls, and then the back loop between my legs and over the top of my penis. As advised, it made my balls stick out and up, so that when I sit, they weren't trapped.
"It looks very rude!", Sara commented.
"It's a brilliant idea, why don't you market it?", Liz asked. This is where we came in, with InfoBase. She had remarkably well developed commercial instincts, for a ballet dancer.
"Trainee ballet dancer.", she reminded me. "Seriously, it works for you, there must be a demand, you aren't unique. All men have balls, most men drive. Potential market, twenty million in Britain? One hundred and fifty million in Europe? OK, so we productionise it, make it slinky, sexy, black leather, cost one pound, sell for twenty, nine pounds profit on each. Retail margin is one hundred percent on cost," she explained seeing Sara have trouble with her arithmetic. "Get the parts stampe d en masse, then use out workers on piece work. Easy, no capital costs, just advertising, or marketing. And distribution."
I laughed at her enthusiasm. "Partners? On the condition that you do the selling?"
"I'd love that, I could try it out on hundreds of men, all in the name of market research. Just imagine, Sara, handling a hundred a day!"
Sara shook her head. "You could do that anyway if you really wanted to, Liz. I could manage a few, but I don't want to. Peter's is the only one I like, just now. You haven't got one."
Liz came back to earth. "I expect you are right, Sara, but it's still a good product. Let's make a few prototypes tomorrow, I saw a sewing machine here, I can sew, you can cut, Peter can model them when he gets home." She took out a tape measure from her bag and measured me up, including length, just for fun. "You know, it starts right back here, underneath. Should I measure from there?"
I loved the open way they handled and explored me and each other. Sara slipped away and came back in what appeared at first glimpse to be a bikini. Then I saw that it was almost a bikini. "Liz, how do you like my design?", she asked.
Lying on the bed, I could see the beauty of the design, or it's flaw, Sara wore high heeled shoes and the 'garment'. The bottom part sat low on her hips, dipped down at the front, but was actually a skirt. The top half was like a pelmet, draped over her breasts, but not pulled back underneath. It covered her nipples, just, showing some of her aureoles, and exposed the swell of her breasts from below.
"You must have grown since you made that," Liz pointed out, "Now it doesn't quite cover your nipples. And you have to shave, or be shaved, because your pubic hair would show beneath. The perfect viewing angle for fooling would be a man's eye height."
"The perfect viewing angle is from down here!", I pointed out.
Sara giggled girlishly. "My only fashion creation, and the only place I have ever worn it is in my own bedroom, until now. But do you like the idea?"
I nodded vigorously, reaching up and stroking the underside of her breasts with feather light finger tips. Liz slapped my hands away gently, then took a hair ribbon from her bag. "The same basis as Peter's thing, it needs a support ribbon here, I'm not quite sure how, make it obvious, it's supposed to be sexy, but just about usable. Then another under her, you are quite wet, Sara, I want you, do you mind Peter?"
"Me too, be my guest." I wondered what she had in mind.
Liz kissed her just as I would, then pushed her back on the bed and kissed her body as they had both kissed mine, nipples, stomach, groin, and then between her legs. I gave Sara a mouthful, as well, for which she seemed very grateful. My hands caressed Liz's valley, probing here and there. Liz turned around, so that Sara could suck at her too. I could reach both of them, exploring both at once with my fingers. When they came, I pulsed over them both, then rubbed it into their breasts and Liz's lips on request. Liz sucked on me some more, then Sara, then Liz again, then they started a fight for privileges and I had to smack them both. Sara's creation was ripped and mine used to drag me to each mouth in turn. I haven't had so much fun for years, tickling and smacking them both as they fought.
We subsided, exhausted from laughing as much as anything. Then I felt guilty, I had the pleasure of both of them, they both had to settle for a suck on a geriatric dick. Anxiously, I asked, "Should I find another man, to make a foursome?"
I was shocked by the intensity of their response. Sara went white. "No, no, never, I couldn't do that!"
Liz turned her back on me and I saw her shoulders start to tremble, I physically felt her hurt. I tried to cuddle her close, but she shrugged me off. "Come on, Liz, it was you I was thinking of. It doesn't seem fair on you two, having to fight over a skinny old guy."
She turned, her lips pursed, her eyes blazing. "Don't ever think you know what I want. I could have as many men as I like in London, and in Edinburgh, but I am here, with you and Sara. Because I want to be. I couldn't bear another man touching me, or another woman." She sniffled, then allowed herself to be hugged. "It took me five long months to pluck up the courage to ring you, five long months when I ached. I've never approached a man before, I never will again. You were different."
I wondered if I should try to explain, my suggestion had all the lift of a lead balloon. The last thing I wanted to do was share them, I knew no man well enough to suggest it, but I felt it was their right. Then she melted back into my arms and clung onto me. "I'm sorry, I thought you were giving us away. That was very generous of you. But no, thank you, that goes for Sara too. You see Peter, you may think of yourself as old, but to me, you are the only person that I can be me, with. Age has no relevance. It's your mind as much as your body I crave."
I was puzzled. "Surely..."
"You can't see it, can you?" She snuggled close and I knew that she would draw comfort from having me inside her back passage again. I also understood that I wasn't expected to move, just fill her. No, 'understood' was wrong, but I knew and I complied, bringing her back onto my lap. She seemed to be able to open herself. I could feel her face smile in my hands. "You see, you don't understand, do you, but you know, you know what I want, even what Sara wants, whether or not through me I don 't know, but you do know. And I know all about that night, Sara, you greedy bitch." It was said lovingly and she stroked her lovers hair as she spoke the words. "I don't blame you."
Sara started guiltily. "What night?"
"After your first night with Peter, you went around to his B&B. You shouldn't have done that Sara, Peter's wife has been there. And his son. You were very fair, Peter, but she is totally irresistible, isn't she? I was pleased, for both of you."
I nodded, my breath against her neck. "I kept quiet for Sara's sake, she was very good for me that night. How do you know?" I was beginning to suspect, but suspicion and belief are a long way apart when we are thinking the impossible.
Liz wasn't prepared to play her ace immediately, she wriggled herself down on me and did something inside. Sara was squeezed behind me, cuddling us both, caressing Liz's breasts. I caressed her valley, my fingers nestling in the wiry dark hair. "You both know, you just won't admit it."
I stumbled into it. "You say I know what you want. The same applies to you, both of you, but you in particular, Liz. Sometimes, I seem to feel your pleasure. It's different."
"Sara?", she asked, passing the ball.
"We seem to be on the same wavelength. You always know how to please me, Peter did everything I wanted this evening, despite his difficulties. But then, we tell each other."
I shook my head. Two or three things had lodged in my mind, but I was too busy to work it out at the time. I was about to speak, when Liz explained, "You see, you are catching on, Peter. And you know what I am thinking too."
I lifted her off. I took her point, she could only keep that area clear so long. She disappeared off to the toilet, sat happily whilst I washed and returned much relieved. Sara and I remained together, Sara holding me. She whispered, "It's all right, I know where it's been." Then she fell in too, in the silence that followed. We both accused Liz, "You can mind read!"
"No, we all can. But possibly, only each other. Peter, you knew that I wanted you, on the train, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, but I explained it away as lust and hope. As my interpretation of your body language. You must understand..."
"I know how unlikely it was, Peter, but I knew too. OK, so I could see that you were turned on, even baggy suit trousers can't hide that completely. But then, I was looking! I knew anyway, I could feel your lust, just as you could mine. Neither of us could admit it, girls don't seduce men, men don't seduce babies. That's almost the way you made yourself see me." She looked over my shoulder to Sara. "Remember when we started?" She smiled. "Neither of us were virgin anymore, maybe that was a lot to do with it. I told you about my failures and you told me about yours. We both admitted we could do better for ourselves. I suggested we could do it even better for each other. We were both frightened, taboo, embarrassment, but we started together, didn't we Sara? As one."
"I found your breasts so exciting, I hardly had any!"
"And I loved your soft fine skin, your inner thighs. Everything. We both knew much more than we said. That night with Peter, Sara, how did he feel, at first?"
"Annoyed, put upon, intruded on. I had to be very adult and distant. But we talked a lot and said much more. We ended up firm friends and voluntary lovers, but he was very tired, weren't you, Peter?" She hugged me close, her breasts in my back.
"So, why us?", I asked, less susceptible to blind belief in the supernatural.
"It's not blind belief, Peter, it's pragmatism. We know it works, we just have to work out how. Like that thing of yours, sure, it does all the things you say, it also makes you feel sexy. Actually, it made me feel sexy too. That's why we will sell a million or two, a sex aid with a logical excuse. Now, a dildo is a dildo and I didn't have the cheek to go and buy one for myself, because everyone knows what they are for. Any man would imagine me using it, in a shop. But you did. Thank you. And I bet you bought Sara hers, before I asked. You see, I was right." She kissed me full on the lips, then followed through. We made love gently right next to Sara who cuddled us both all the way through. Then I made love to Sara just as lovingly and gently, our best, with Liz clinging to my back. She wanted to be involved. Poor Liz had to keep changing her Tampax, each time. It was heaven. I accepted that it worked, but when I wanted to ask more, I found they were both asleep, cuddled together. I wrapped them both up in my arms and slept too.
I was a little late the following day, but not much. Work was involving, but frustrating, partly because things didn't quite work as they should, and partly because I had my mind on the two of them. I had discreetly left some cash for shopping, because neither of them had much money and they were going to shop and cook. A rare treat, I hoped. I returned relatively early, just after six thirty. I was greeted by two naked women.
"There, I told you, we timed it perfectly. I knew when you arrived, you see." Liz was smug. I was shown into the lounge, a room I hadn't spent a lot of time in, given a whisky and my jacket removed. "Dinner in ten minutes.!" Sara promised.
It wasn't that special, but I was proud of their efforts. We ate at the dining table, the two now dressed again, it had been a mad scramble to strip for my arrival, for fun. Practicality dictated clothes for cooking. We dined on haggis and venison pie, with that light suety pastry that so suits it and defeats me totally. We drank good red wine and I was presented with bills and change. They did well for the money. Sara also admitted slyly that they had spent some of my cash on other odds and ends. For the business!
I was intrigued, because I expected that they would have forgotten all about sewing. Not so. I volunteered to wash up, but was told to go and sit down with a brandy. For once, I did as I was told. They returned and started hesitantly.
"We think one of these is better than all the others, but you must choose, OK? First, modifications to Sara's bikini. A complete rebuild, but only Sara can model it, unless you shave me too?"
"Do you want me too?"
"I'm not sure. It was very sexy, but I'm not sure I want to be hairless..."
She was seeking my opinion. "I enjoyed the shaving, but I like your pubic hair, so, the most you get is a trim, OK?"
She grinned wickedly. "The fun without the bristles! OK. Sara, mark one, please."
Sara went to the bedroom to change. Liz kissed me hungrily, making me forget about Sara until a cough interrupted. I looked up and was stunned. She had arranged her long blonde hair over her left shoulder, wore the high heeled shoes and a remodelled 'bikini'. It was clever. The structure had taken ideas from my own impromptu garment, the material was red leather now, red was her colour. There was no neck band, just two thin leather straps that cut across the top of her breasts and under h er nipples, sewn together at the sides and middle so that her nipples and tiny aureoles were trapped. From the top strap descended leather hearts, joined to the top strap by the two peaks, and to the bottom strap by the lower point. They were shaped slightly, so that she was covered, but the dip in the top of each heart promised a peek of a nipple which it denied. The bottom part was similarly ingenious, a thin hip strap, drawn down to the heart top, a lower bottom strap that was attached to the upper at th e sides, but followed the groove of her groin, crossed underneath catching the points of front and back hearts, and rejoined at the sides.
The clever aspect was the gaps at the sides, because they made it sexy, as opposed to just minimal. Sara turned elegantly and walked up and down, then added, "It's a lot more secure than it looks, watch." She stepped out of the shoes and performed a cartwheel across the floor, landing on her feet. Nothing fell out! I applauded. Sara beamed and blushed a little.
"Now, the other one." Liz demanded. We sipped our brandy, this time I was waiting. This was another variation on the theme, but much closer to the original pelmets. The difference was that there was a quarter cup underbra, and a similarly skimpy under cup for her naked pubes. She twirled and I saw the point, or both of them, because her nipples were actually exposed, but only if she moved vigorously. It was good, but was it a cheat, because it exposed, or could do? I applauded again, but pointed out the drawbacks, or advantages.
"That's the point, only exposes you if you want to. I like it." Sara affirmed. "Your turn, Liz."
So I was to have two models! Sara kissed me softly and sweetly, with growing enthusiasm, until Liz returned. Her garment used considerably more material, but was vaguely related in theme and used the thin red leather and red silky material. The top was a simple rectangle, a mini poncho, with a square neck cut-out, designed to show the swell of her breasts. But it draped softly over her breasts, allowing their natural shape to show. It came just below her breasts, but at each side were two ties, made into bows. When she stood sideways, the view was breathtaking, because she could show as much or as little as she wanted simply by the way she stood and how tight they were tied! The bottom was made similarly, as shorts, with over hip ties and thigh ties. The garment was essentially close fitted at the hips but loose at the groin. Once again, looser lower ties offered enchanting sideways sneaky peeks. Or not, as she chose. It was the winner, because it was the one that covered most but showed mo st too, if she wished. I could hardly keep my hands off her! Apart from anything else, those ties were crying out to be untied!
"The winner!", I breathed. They both broke into smiles. "We thought so too! Less blatant, more subtle and easier to make!" Sara kissed me. "Mind you, I think it looks better on me, but as this was Liz's idea, she modelled it. Come on Liz, swap?"
So they disappeared and swapped and returned. Sara was taller and more elegant, typical model material, but she hadn't Liz's curves. It was impossible to choose, but the interesting thing to me was that it fitted either of them.
"Exactly!" Liz bragged, "Fits almost anyone, even you!"
"Try it on!", Sara suggested.
I laughed, "Hardly me!"
Liz's voice was suddenly serious. "Go on."
I looked at her. Her eyes were very intense.
Sara giggled, "Yes, why not, Liz said it would fit anyone!"
Liz stared at my groin fixedly. "Go on, Peter. Now."
I complied, changing in the bedroom, after shooing Sara out. It was hopeless. Sure, it was 'fit anyone'. As long as they didn't have balls and things. I decided on one ball each side and the other thing sticking up to one side, as it wouldn't hang! I come back in. Sara giggled again, her face reddening, but Liz stared fixedly. "Not the top, that looks silly." I took off the top. "Jesus, that is unbelievable!"
"I don't think it suits a man's anatomy!", I pointed out.
"No, not really, it's just very sexy. If you like what's underneath, and now poking over the waist band."
"There just isn't enough room!", I pleaded.
"I want to see you in that, when we have softened him up a bit!" Liz was breathing heavily. "But, you have some more modelling to do. Work first!" She brought out three variations on the original. One had just a front panel and waist strap, with Velcro to join under the scrotum and lift the testicles. It was OK, but tended to be pulled down at the front. Liz shook her head. "I'm sure most men don't drive with a stiffie, so lets leave this till later. No, no, Peter, don't take that off, le ave it on."
Sara had Liz's creation back on. She was making the best of it too, showing her breasts from the side, the thigh ties undone, a flash of groin occasionally. Liz nodded to Sara. "Sara first, the basis of the idea was hers..."
Sara moved up to me and turned her mouth up to be kissed. "Dance with me?" Music appeared. Either Liz was psychic, which I guess she is, or more likely they had planned this evening with care. We danced. I was hot and stiff against her, without the disguise of trousers. I wanted her, I wanted Liz. I wanted to undo the ties. But I had my own ideas about how. So we danced one tune and snogged on the dance floor, then I lay her down on the mat in front of the fire, on her front, and massaged her neck, her back, her waist, her hips and her thighs and calves, then her feet. At each stage I untied ties as necessary. Then I turned her over and worked up, caressing the inside of her thighs, her muscles in her buttocks, but not quite touching her pubic area. Then I caressed her breasts and we were gone. Her legs parted and I slipped confidently home, then slowly and eagerly slipped in and out of her, building her up, making her wait, then making her come with her nipple in my mouth, coming myself as well. Then, I was soft, just the once.
Liz smiled as I withdrew, wet and soft. "That was beautiful. Both of you. Now you can try on the other two."
So while Sara lay back with her legs wide, just as I left her, with a silly grin on her face, I tried the second and third items. The second was a little more like the original, but had a beautifully shaped ball cup at the front, a wider waistband and slim ties between the legs and a padded loop over the top. It worked well. The third was a departure, because it was much as the second, but included what Liz thought of as a 'willy sling'. It dangled from the groin strap, a two inch long t ube of leather, open at both ends, with a leather lace as a leg tie at the far end. She fitted it, pulling me through and tying me back against my thigh. I immediately started to stiffen, with Liz's face watching from inches away in anticipation. Then she untied the thigh strap and begged. "Let me have it, as it is, in the sling?"
I was amazed, I couldn't see why, but as usual we did was she wanted. She had to remove her tampon again, but that didn't worry either of us. "Quick, straight in, please?"
So I slid straight in, encased in leather with two leather thongs dangling. She came in seconds, then again, then again. I couldn't come, because the tube was too tight! I plunged harder and harder, faster and faster, but no way. Liz was screaming and clawing at my back, Sara was holding her, but she pleaded, "Don't go, no, more, more, oh Peter, don't ever stop, fuck me to death, aaagh, aaagh. Fuck me!" She was ranting, I was desperate, then she dried and I had to stop. I flung Sara back and fucked her, sweat pouring off me now, having a similar effect. Then I had to stop, pure exhaustion. Sara crawled off and found the scissors and cut the stitching of the tube, allowing me free. I had a white weal around it. Sara gently sucked at me, caressing and smooth, until I was stiff, but back in shape.
"I told you it was too tight.", she accused Liz.
"That was the idea, and it worked, but I'm not sure it's such a good idea, I'm red raw!" It was true, apart from a little blood from her period, she glowed like a beacon. Admittedly, she was almost doing the splits, laid on her back. "How on earth can you go on so long?"
"I was frantic, too, but I still am!"
"I'll suck you, move over, Sara."
Sara let her. She kneeled in front of me and worked like crazy, deep in her throat, to no avail. I felt like she had caused a permanent blockage, I was desperate to come, but I couldn't. Sara tried again, then they both masturbated me together, until I was red raw and sore and had to stop them. "Sorry, ladies, let's give it a rest, please."
I was throbbing, standing stiff, twitching. Liz stared at me fixedly. "Have you any fantasies?", she asked.
"Fantasies?", I repeated stupidly.
"Fantasies.", she repeated flatly. "Imagined circumstances, that turn you on."
I nodded. I had no problem with the definition of the word, I was thinking. "I suppose so. Quite often, when I am driving, I imagine that there is a hitch hiker..."
"Go on..." Sara encouraged, kneeling in front of me.
"It sounds so feeble, compared to you two, reality..."
"Tell us.." Liz's voice was a soft caress.
"I imagine various different scenes, but all seem to be based on picking up a young woman, a girl, she ends up sucking me as I drive. Dangerous." I smiled.
"The variations?", Liz quested.
"Sometimes, on the motor way, a broken down car with a slim figure looking distressed. She has to get to..., wherever. I give her a lift, we talk, she is hot. She undresses. Quite often those silky knickers with sexy loose edges feature. My fingers explore. I caress her to climax as we drive. Then she sucks me."
"Occasionally, there are two girls. Once, I imagined two naked girls on the hard shoulder, very late at night. They had been dumped by their drunken boyfriends, without clothes, for a sick joke. They show me where to pull off, and park. Then they both enjoy me, for the benefit of their ex-boyfriends, who can only dance around the locked car in fury and watch."
"Have you ever raped a hitch hiker?", Liz asked.
"No, never! I have given lifts, mostly to men, occasionally to girls, but I have never even made a suggestive remark. It is total fantasy. Keeps boredom away on a long drive..."
"Have you ever raped anyone?"
"No, no." Then I thought about the current controversy over date rape. "Except.. I don't know, they speak of it as date rape, now. In a situation where I was desperate, she was putting out all the right signals, but then said 'No', I have sometimes pushed a bit hard. I don't think even she would have regarded it as rape, but..." I shook my head. "It's so difficult to know where to draw the line." I looked at Liz's intense face. "Why the interest, you haven't been raped, have you?"
"No, no. Sure, I have had a few close calls, but you know how strong and lithe I am." She pursed her lips. "But I wanted to be raped, in a way." She shook her head. "I suppose that is my fantasy, on a train, in a dark street. Places I spend a lot of time. Like you, driving..." She twisted her head and looked me in the eye. "Rape me?"
"I doubt I could, by myself, as you say, you are strong and slippery as an eel.."
I looked at Sara. Her face was flushed. She was excited by the prospect too. I shook my head, I didn't see how the necessary realism could be introduced. Liz left the room and returned dressed, and slinked by, swivelling her hips and tapping her feet. I understood that we should all be dressed, in the hunt for realism. I motioned Sara to the clothes room, the bedroom, for dressing and a quick conference.
"How can you help in a rape? Surely, the essence of rape is forced penetration?"
"I can hold her down, while you rape her, two of us..." Her face was wistful.
"What's in it for you?"
"I like to watch you with her. She makes you animal. I don't. I just sometimes get the leftovers."
I nodded. It wasn't quite as she said, but there was some truth in it. "OK, I grab her, hold her, you get her clothes off. Watch out, because she will fight like a street urchin. She will kick and bite, so don't offer any targets. I am going to tie her, if I can, otherwise I think it will be impossible. Ready?"
We were both dressed now, no embarrassment about dressing or undressing in front of each other. I collected tissues, because I was going to have to remove a barrier, I needed something to wrap and wipe. We strolled into the lounge, arm in arm, picture of innocence and looking totally safe. Liz strolled by, still swivelling her hips in an exaggerated fashion. We turned and followed, inching closer. Let her anticipate, surely half of her pleasure. She started to walk more quickly, around th e small flat. We matched her pace. She almost trotted, as walk and a few half running steps, we followed.
"Excuse me, miss, did you know your heel is broken?" I tapped her on the shoulder as I started to speak. She stopped suddenly and looked over her shoulder. Whilst she was off balance, I grabbed her, both arms up her back in a full nelson, and bore her to the ground. I kept the hold and placed my knee at the base of her spine. "Keep still, if you don't want two broken arms!", I threatened.
She stilled her struggles, then whimpered, "Leave me alone, mister. I've done nothing!"
I lifted her skirt with my free hand and eased her knickers over her rump. "Get them off, accomplice." I could hardly call her by her name, during a rape.
Liz spread her legs to retain her knickers, then realised that it wouldn't keep her covered and closed them again. Despite her wild kicks, Sara managed to whip them away. I felt her buttocks, and slipped my hand between her legs. "Nice arse!", I commented crudely. "Get you legs open, wide open, or.." I increased pressure on her arms.
She squealed, so I relaxed the pressure a little. She snaked onto her side and bit my thigh. I increased the pressure on her arms and smacked her face, quite sharply. "Keep still, or I'll knock you out!" I used my tie to bind her wrists, then whipped a loop around her neck and pulled it tight and tied back to her wrists. If she tried to free her arms, she would strangle herself. That didn't stop her flailing legs, though. It was no good Sara holding one and me the other, because how was I going to rape her? I managed to get a loop from another tie around one ankle and slip it tight. I then dragged it up around her neck and tied off, in the midst of wild struggles, restricted to flailing legs. The fact that she could touch the back of her head with the bottom of her own foot was a bonus in this case. I would have expected the second leg to be easier, but she knew what I intended by now and writhed like a snake. Without Sara, I would have been defeated, without knocking her out. Nonetheless, I threatened, "Keep still, or I'll knock you out with one punch!"
It was a mistake, she just fought the harder. I didn't want her unconscious and she knew it! Sara heaved, I laid my weight on the leg and Sara tied it around her neck. She was trussed hard and could hardly moved, it must have been painful, but though she swore and struggled, she didn't plead for an end to the game. I was able to pick her up by her hips and carry her, in this case to the mat by the fire, where I put her down on her legs and arms, her face towards me. Spitefully, I announce d, "It doesn't matter if you can see our faces because I am going to kill you when I have finished, anyway. The difference will be how. If you are a good fuck, I'll simply snap you neck, out like a light. Otherwise, I'll kick you to death." I gave her a sample kick in the ribs, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough to make my point. "Accomplice, cut her clothes free, if you can't get them off!"
Sara unbuttoned her blouse and opened her bra, exposing her breasts and caressing. "Go, on, have your fun with her babe, she'll be no fun when she's dead." I removed my trousers and shorts slowly and casually, making sure she could see what I had for her, because I was excited by the fight. It was interesting that the ties forced her legs slightly apart, but not enough for comfort. "Look, bitch, I can tie you legs open, then you get the kicking, or you can open them for me. Which is it go ing to be?" I leaned over her face, leering disgustingly
True to form, her eyes blazed fire and spat in my face. I backhanded her, quite lightly, but she wasn't to know that as she saw my arm and hand swing close to her eyes. She flinched. I stood between her knees and walked her legs open, fighting every millimetre. Then I tied her knees around her neck. You could hardly see her neck at all, so many ties around it. Certainly my trussing was effective, because I could see that she was sneakily testing for slackness and finding none. It must hav e been very uncomfortable, but she didn't cry foul, so it would do.
Sara was having fun, having removed the skirt, opened the blouse, pushed up the bra and previously removed the knickers, she was able to caress the tautly arched body. It was she that discovered the tampon as her fingers explored. "Shall I take this out, or do you want to fuck it right in?", Sara asked. I shuddered, what a horrible thought. "Take it out, just my luck, a bleeder. Never mind, had your fun?"
"Not yet, let me have my way first!"
I do believe that Sara was enjoying this most of any of us. Liz had wanted to fight, and was now trussed and helpless. But Sara loved exploring her body, particularly arched in this novel way, her legs wide, her whole body tensioned like a bow thrusting her proud pubic mound up. I knelt before Liz and put my hand up Sara's skirt and probed her opening by pulling her gusset aside. "Have you done yet, woman? I want to fuck her!" I pushed Sara aside quite roughly, and touched myself against the opening. "No nasty diseases, bitch?"
"I've got AIDS and herpes!", came a strangled cry.
I laughed crudely. "Not herpes, so I guess not AIDS. See, you are quite wet, you are going to enjoy this, they are all the same Sara, fight like hell then love it. They should pay me, before they die. Go through her bag, get any money, too much of a babe to have credit cards. Not a virgin though, I can see right up her cunt, look, Sara, look how she dribbles!" I thrust in. She was wet and wide open. She spat at me again, but her heart wasn't in it, I could see her eyes. I watched her eyes for the whole time as I teased her, getting her near the edge then sitting back on my heels and just looking at her. "You can have her tits Sara, if you want." Casually, I returned my hand up Sara's skirt and manipulated her until she came, sucking on Liz's breast. I grabbed the other and squeezed, mock hard, actually a gentle caress, then with my fingers deep inside Sara, I re-entered her.
This time, I hammered away, all the time watching her eyes. She had pride, when she came she did her best to hide it. "I know you came, bitch, so don't think you can fool me." I made her come again and again, playing with her, until she collapsed, her face screwed up and she sobbed, bucking against me, pleading, "Let me go now, let me go, please."
I pulled out, still fondling Sara who showed no boredom with my fingers. "OK, she was quite good. I think, I will strangle her, Sara, or do you want to?"
Sara looked horrified, as I withdrew my fingers and found a way past the ties to her throat and squeezed my thumbs against her windpipe. Suddenly, Liz was afraid. I had blanked my mind, so that she couldn't know me. I was learning. She struggled, but was unable to escape, her eyes widened, her colour deepened, still I kept on. I wasn't actually pressing very hard, but she didn't know that. When I saw genuine fear in her eyes, I desisted.
"You're dead!", I announced softly, releasing her neck. She sobbed and a tear ran down her cheek. I untied her slowly, easing her cramped limbs back into place. When the last tie was free, she managed to kneel, then she took a swipe at me. I was expecting it, so the blow wasn't hard, but I allowed it to land. She collapsed into my arms and sobbed, "That wasn't how I imagined it at all." She sniffled. "You frightened me, so much."
"That was the idea, Liz, because you wanted rape, that is fear, yet you knew it was a game. You had to feel fear." I stroked the nape of her neck gently. "No damage?" I queried softly.
She shook her head, then snuffled again. "Are you sure you haven't done this before? Rape?"
"No, never. But you aren't the first woman who wanted to be tied up."
"I wasn't expecting that."
"I know, this is what you were expecting." I threw her back and forced her knees wide with mine, stabbed into her and was immediately thrown on my back as she arched and flung me off.
I continued, "But I didn't think that would work, I thought I would get a knee in my balls and no satisfaction!"
She half laughed as she sat up, pushing some tissues under her. "True. I was frightened. I think it has put me off rape, I used to think I could always get away, now I'm not so sure. That was a hell of a trick with those ties." I felt something flick across her mind, then lost it. She wandered off to the loo to repair her face and fix her sanitary arrangements, just a panty liner and plain cotton knickers this time. "I seem to have stopped, almost." She smiled. "I'm tired, can we sleep? S ara?"
I was used to her cat naps, and at nine o'clock, so what. Sara nodded doubtfully but agreed, aware that she was the passenger on this train. I think I was the coal. We snuggled together, me in the middle one head on either shoulder. When I awoke, I was trussed by my wrists with a white silk scarf to the bed head, the lights were low, and Sara knelt astride me. Liz took me in her mouth, the lollipop technique, wanting me stiff. I knew. I had seen the film, she had known, when she looked fi rst at that bed head. Then Sara took the place of Liz's hot mouth with her even hotter vagina, sliding down until she had me inside her. She smiled, her hair falling forward over her face as she supported herself on my chest at first, rubbing herself backwards and forwards, doing everything she needed. She knew that I was half terrified already, either she had read my mind, or Liz had, and told her. This was revenge for the unconventionally successful rape. I was supposed to be shit scared.
I wasn't at first, because I knew it was a game. Liz had the camera as usual. Sara was perfect, she must have seen the film at least once, maybe twice or more, as I had. The weird girlfriend had watched from the dressing room, in the film. Liz chose the best camera position. It was great for me, I started to lift under her, watching her wise eyes know me as I caught a glimpse through her golden hair. After some time of calculated movement, I could feel her tighten inside, as she did befo re she loosed herself. She sat up and leaned back, her proud breasts standing out, her hands on my hip bones, pressing herself against my bone with all her might for maximum penetration and maximum stimulation of her outer regions.
She started to pant, so much as had Sharon Stone, in the film. When her right hand went behind her and came back with a vicious knife, I was scared, because just maybe, they might! No one knew they were here, no one knew we knew each other, she panted harder, she was making me strain up under her, I was desperate, frightened, unsure, but I was going to come before whatever happened, and so was she. I tried to free my hands, to hold her wrists or her hips, but I couldn't. The needs of my b ody were still greater than my fear, even when I felt and heard her come, hesitating for a part second before grinding on, letting me burst inside her beautiful body, then she swung forward with the knife, followed through with her body and I lived, because she stabbed a board placed there by Liz, just beside my head, with real force.
She cried and kissed me, her hair in my face, writhing on top of me still, until she stilled. I felt Liz let her breath go. For a second, she had been a trifle uncertain, even though it was all her idea. Her idea to see if I responded to fear as she did, as they both did. She was uncertain, I could tell, I caught a trace of regret. I followed it back and understood, I had decided to finish off Sara, even if it meant the knife, it meant that much to me at the time. She wondered if I was be coming too fond of Sara, less fond of her. I stretched my arm out... but I couldn't, she still knew, her face wreathed in smiles as she laid aside the camera and flung herself on me.
"Sorry, sorry, but, I had to, it was so strong in your mind. It was a terrific film, wasn't it? But we both love you too much to kill you..."
I stroked her hair, with my face, as she untied me, the knots pulled tight by my struggles. When I was free, I hugged them both, then kissed away Sara's tears "I know, just for a second, there was a temptation wasn't there? To keep me inside you for ever, to kill me inside you."
She struggled onto an elbow, her eyes wide with fear, bright green rather than blue now. "No, no, I didn't. How did you know?" Her nails clutched my chest painfully, then she felt my hurt and released me, her eyes went wild for a moment, then she knew too. Her mouth opened in awe. "You can read my mind!"
"And you mine, both of you. Both of you. That's why we three are here, isn't it? It's a mind thing, as much as bodies."
We huddled together in a much greater fear than had been caused by my mock murder or theirs. We knew too much.
That time we really slept When I awoke at nine forty five, I called the office and apologised, 'Expect me in an hour.' Yet it was half past eleven by the time I arrived, because I couldn't bear to leave either of them, without making love to each of them as they wished. Sara chose to have me doggy fashion, but Liz insisted on a mouth fuck, with Sara using a dildo on her. I really let myself go, because she chose that, even getting my balls in her mouth for a second or two, because I knew she wanted it. A strange one, Liz, she sometimes frightens me with her intensity. There was no excuse I could offer, thank goodness they were my only reason for lateness, I can take a few beers and still turn out for work on time.
It was getting close to Christmas. They came around the following week, but only for one evening, seven thirty to ten thirty. It was frantic and unhappy, because we all knew we hadn't enough time. I explained that Chris and Alex were coming to stay from the twenty eighth until the third January, so it would be late on the third, or from the fourth onward, before I could see them again.
The week before Christmas was busy, because apart from anything else, I wanted to buy them presents and send them to them. Yet of course, I couldn't send them, because how would Liz explain the gift of a new camcorder, with various attachments, or Sara the gift of a new silk dress that I knew would look perfect on her, complete with very sexy underwear bought in the Chester 'Private' shop? I had to keep them in the flat, on a very high shelf in the meter cupboard, in old boxes. Just in ca se!
Tuesday night, we went to a team dinner at the Thai restaurant in town, followed by a pub in Shawlands that was open until after one o'clock. Ellie Peters was delectable, more fun out of the office, less stiff. James was enamoured, but Thursday was his last day! Wednesday, I picked James' father up from the airport, arriving home at eight. Sara was sitting on the top step, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, slowly starting to smile as I rounded the last turn of the stair.
Neither of us spoke, there was nothing to say. I hugged her as I opened the three locks on the door, then kissed her inside the hallway. I knew that she had only been there about five minutes and that she hadn't met the neighbours. Hardly surprising, because I hadn't yet, either. We drank tea and watched TV, she sucked me languorously and lasciviously, on her knees, then sat across me and slowly and voluptuously brought us both off, after which she cuddled in my arms. Then I took her sava gely from behind and fucked her mouth and her arse for her first time, then she cried and smiled and glowed and still we didn't speak, but I knew that the last had been for Liz who was silently enjoying me too, just as the first had been.
Sara was OK, because Liz had been teaching her how to open herself and how to empty herself. I don't think either of us enjoyed it too much, but for her it was an experience and for Liz it was heaven. I gave her both their presents, dressing her in hers, then dancing with her for an hour to soft love songs. That was for all three of us. Liz was ecstatic over her present, Sara was frightened that she was redundant, but we both assured her that it wasn't true. Liz explained that she almost enjoyed me making love to Sara more than herself, because she could enjoy it for both of us. I don't think she lied, because on reflection, I think I had made love with Sara more overall, despite two sessions before I was aware of her existence. Our last that night was missionary fashion, on the settee, before I dressed her again in her jeans and sweatshirt and took her home.
Thursday, I ate with James, Sean and Dave Soames as well as Adrian, James father. It was a packing and loading dinner, because James contract had finished, his choice, London next. With Donald going to Slough and James to London or Gloucester, I was going to be short of companions, apart from Sara and Liz when she could.
On Friday before Christmas, I left at twelve fifteen, ignoring many invitations for a drink, that isn't a good basis for a two hundred and fifty mile drive. I stopped in Chester to buy some more last minute presents, phoned home, and collected the turkey and the beef and everything from the market too.
We had a great Christmas, Chris, Alex and I. Lots of presents, we were reasonably well off this year, Nat and Eileen, Chris's parents came on the Saturday for Christmas and Boxing day. We ate a lot, drank some and relaxed, all except poor Chris who was desperately finishing off work for her clients on a short month. We went to the traditional Boxing Day party at 'Uncle Les', to meet the family. I sometimes thought of my family in Scotland.
On the Tuesday night, my fiftieth birthday, we travelled north, arriving after midnight, after delivering Chris's last work to her customers and our three cats to their cattery, another of Chris's customers, on the way. I had work in the morning, but as no one expected me before twelve, if at all, I arrived just before twelve. I worked an easy week, twenty two hours in three days, not excessive at all, Chris and Alex relaxed and read, I guess we all needed it. We had one odd moment, the f irst time that we opened up the bed settee in the lounge, because I found a pair of white knickers down the back. I don't think they belonged to either Sara or Liz, I blamed them on Jill Frost, my landlady!
Chris and I's often half asleep attempts to make love turned into more fun, we had a great time, went to George Square on New Years Eve, then to a party at a flat two floors below, Hogmanay come house warming. She was from Crosby, Liverpool! Quite fanciable, too, was Kathy! I took a half tiddly and very happy Chris back to bed. We had a few excellent days, doing very little except sleeping, cuddling, chatting and resting.
On our last night, we made pigs of ourselves, three times at least for Chris and two for me. I tied her ankles back to the bed head and sucked her to death, then buried myself deep into her, then took her doggy fashion. It was great, but when I wanted her mouth, or even her hand, she caressed me briefly, then let me go and turned over to sleep. She knew, but she is still frightened to touch my willy, and hates it in her mouth. Maybe she secretly knows that my two little angels will happil y do that for me, so why should she have to?
We were so laid back, that we nearly missed the train, suddenly realising we had twenty minutes to reach the station, then finding we had ten extra. I saw Chris and Alex off with regret, work tomorrow and a lonely flat. Yet I had this strange fear that my terrible twins were at the station and that they would rush up to me while Chris was there.
I was wrong, they were at the book stall, to which I inevitably went, because Liz commanded that I should. Or pleaded? Or was it just because I so often do? I don't know and I don't really care, because it was terrific to see them both, muffled against the biting cold. Liz had timed it well, just in from Edinburgh and Sara had met her. I hugged them both, unable to discern any changes in public and bundled up as they were. I had parked the car very illegally at the station entrance, in my rush, so in they went, Sara in front, Liz behind me so that she could hold me around the seat.
"Good Christmas?", I asked, hopefully.
Sara was happier, she was surrounded by a crowd, school and local friends, family. Liz was less so, because most of her friends were in London, just her, Mum and some of Mums friends at home. "I nearly brought her over, Helena, because you would do her the world of good, Peter. She needs a good man, that guy she was seeing couldn't get it up, she told me when she'd had a few over Christmas. She even asked if I had a man. I didn't know how to answer that."
"What did you say?"
"I explained that I did, but that he was married and loved his wife. We only met occasionally. All of which is true. She just assumed that he was in London!"
Liz was pensive. "I miss you terribly, Peter. I know you are going to be lonely too, for the next couple of months. Will you let Sara stand in for me, when I can't get to Glasgow?"
In view of that Wednesday before Christmas, I took that as read. "Of course, as long as you don't mind, Sara? You will of course be primarily yourself, and none the less welcome for that?"
"I'll ring you, either at work or here. Best if you don't ring home. Maybe, I don't even need to phone, I seem to be able to get through to you now, but it is a little uncertain. Liz was sure it was half past three, but you only just made it, didn't you!"
I laughed. "Not without incurring the displeasure of a number of your compatriots!"
"Do you always talk like that?" Liz asked, curiously.
"Like what?", I asked, confused.
'Not without incurring the displeasure of a number of your compatriots', she mimicked.
"Oh, sorry, I am often accused of being pompous, can't help it." I negotiated a queue of traffic on the inside as usual, timing my exit from the tin tunnel as the lights changed, now streets ahead. "But I meant, like that."
"I often wondered how you slip through the traffic so quickly!", Sara chuckled, squeezing my thigh with a sneaky caress.
"Bad habits, London driving." I apologised, as I turned off the main road to my particular back street, and parked in my old space, a remarkable find.
"Why did you leave London?", Sara asked curiously as we left the car.
"Too many plastic people. By twenty five, I was bored with it. But it was exciting at the time."
"I've only been twice, with Mum and Dad, then it was always a rush..."
"You haven't missed so much, Sara." Liz assured her. "If you have pots of money, it‚s probably fun, but for the rest of us it is expensive and hard work. Just getting into the centre and out is such a chore."
"Don't I just know it, I used to travel from Chingford, via Hackney Downs station every day, for years."
"That's the way I go!", Liz exclaimed in surprise.
"You see, nothing changes!" I kept quiet for a bit, I could handle sixty stairs on the run, but not talk as well! Liz could keep up easily, but I noticed that Sara lagged a little. I unlocked, the three key ceremony and divested them of their clothes. Well, not all, just the top layers. The flat was warm as toast, but I let them thaw with me in front of the fire. It was a peaceful Sunday afternoon feeling although it was Tuesday. Neither had to work till the following Monday, or school, w hichever you call it. But I knew enough of both of them by now to admit that it was work, often hard work. Even school has become more purposeful and intense in the serious nineties.
Sara talked lazily about her Christmas and New Year, whilst we relaxed and cuddled. I was less desperate than usual, due to a restful and loving few days with Chris. Something of the feeling must have communicated itself to them, because there was no desperate rush for either of them. Liz chatted about her Mum, Helena, who was apparently fed up with men as a species. Liz wanted to disabuse her, but hadn't the confidence to share her experiences with her mum, thank goodness. "Anyway, I tho ught you would be horrified, if I did."
I nodded. She was right. Yet I had no reason, except what I thought other people would think. I was remarkably happy about our relationship after many initial doubts. "I suppose, we just assume that she wouldn't see it the way we do...."
"I'm not sure how we see it. If I told my friends at school, they would be horrified. Fifty! I can't believe you are fifty now, Peter. I can't believe any of this, but I don't want a thing to change, not a thing. I couldn't ever tell my parents. Never!"
"Please don't, at least not until you are tired of me. You father would fire me!"
This was something Liz didn't understand. She knew Sara's father worked for The Company, but not the significance of his position, or mine in relation to him. Mere minion! She laughed as we explained. "Can you imagine, if he knew what his video camera had seen!"
"Precisely!", I agreed, dryly. "That's why I thought it best that you had your own. Just in case you left a tape in, and he watched it..."
"I'm not that stupid...", Sara asserted. "I don't want to spoil this. I check, after Liz has checked."
"Thanks, Peter. It's terrific, but I daren't keep it at home. I have to carry it with me, everywhere, it's too new to be a cheap second hand bargain." She hugged me. "It was the best present that you could give me."
"I love my dress. I don't have to pretend, because no one knows what I have in my wardrobe. So I wore it to bed, once." She hugged herself, after her confession. "Then I ironed it."
Liz laughed at that too. "I could never get away with a dress like that, Helena would borrow it, then interrogate me about where it came from. You chose well, Peter, thank you." She rustled in her bag and produced a small wrapped gift. I unwrapped it busily, a lighter! I hugged them both, because I knew how large a percentage of her meagre income it had cost. I needed a decent lighter, I use throw aways. Yet I too would have a problem, it wasn't the kind of thing I would buy for myself, i t was a personal present. I hated the subterfuge, the subject of much of our conversation this afternoon. But what alternative was there? Give it all up? They both felt my thoughts and reacted.
"No, I couldn't. We will just have to be occasional and discrete." Liz nodded. "I was tempted to tell Mum the full story, we are very close, but I think that she too might cause trouble, from the best of motives, me."
"My parents would be totally shocked. I'm sure they both think I'm ten. No one even explained about periods, of course I knew, but it would have been nice if Mum had talked to me about it. Dad, of course, is very loving when he notices me but still thinks of me as his baby."
I was pleased that both Chris and I had been to some trouble to make sure that Alex knew the facts of life. Sure, he would hear about it at school, from his mates eventually, but it should come from his family, first. Then he would be the one in the know, he would be confident. He was already familiar with the moods women have when a period is due, and the pains and discomfort during, through Chris. Maybe, just maybe, we can teach him to be a caring and considerate lover.
"By the time I am twenty three, he could be my toy boy!", Liz suggested, laughing nervously at the thought.
"By then, you will be looking for a young man with stamina!"
She laughed. "And skill. Maybe, but at this moment, I don't want anyone else."
Sara prodded the keyboard of my portable, that Alex had been using. "What do you use this for?"
I typed in the password to open up Windows again. "I can play games, Alex was playing Solitaire. I have InfoBase on here, with no reference to either of you, I hasten to add. Everyone uses it in our family, a few in the office. And Word, the word processor I use.
"Let me see InfoBase, you talked about it on the train." Liz hunched forward over the machine on the low table. I picked it up and placed it on her lap, where a laptop should be. I was going to show her, but she stopped me. "Close your mind, you said it was easy to use, let me see."
I watched with fascination, as she worked her way through all the options, Sara was involved too. Liz caught on pretty quickly, even to the more complicated aspects, like Mail Merge and Invoicing. "How does it know the VAT rates?", she asked abruptly, having discovered the calculator added or subtracted VAT very simply.
"F2, D", I prompted.
She was there as I spoke. "I hadn't looked at this lot, 'Util' didn't sound very interesting." She was all over the place. I wished she would demonstrate it for me, for the first time, but then she could never do that again. "Mmm." She smiled. "I agree, it is good. Not as pretty as 'Windows' programmes, but so much quicker!"
I nodded. She was dead right. Yet I had to create a 'Windows' version to sell it, on today's market. Sara took over, clicking her way into Word, seeing invoices, letters, then an empty directory. "What is book 5, you haven't written anything yet!"
I laughed. "I have, but you can't see it. I had to hide the files, because Alex and Chris have both been using this machine, while they were up here."
"Why hide them, you haven't hidden any of the others?", Sara quizzed.
"How would you know?", I asked, laughing. "You can't see the ones I have hidden."
"OK, OK, so why?"
"Because it is about you two, and me."
"Let's have a look!"
"Can I read some!"
"If you like, but let me un-hide them first!" I changed the file attributes, the clicked back on Word and brought up B501.DOC.
"Not much of a title!", Liz accused.
"It hasn't one, yet."
They both read it through, whilst I made some food, up to chapter 5, page 11, about as far as I had progressed. It was probably cruel, because my writing style is callous, clinical and doesn't display my feelings much. I try to let events show the true feelings behind the writing. I was nervous when I brought the toasted sandwiches back, I was short of food. It was wolfed with very little attention or comment, along with the coffee which followed. When they finished, Liz always a little a head, I expected trouble.
Liz looked at me strangely. "It's all there, yet none of it. Is that how you see our relationship?"
"No, but it's how I write. I don't find it easy to describe loving feelings, but I can describe how they make me and others act. When you think about it, the why becomes apparent."
"I understand." Sara was looking at me curiously. "It's the most amazing thing I have ever read. It also makes me feel intensely randy."
"It had that effect on me too. You do put across your lust well, without explaining it. You don't try to explain, do you?"
"How can I, when I don't know? Don't understand, myself?"
"I don't, either Peter. But I don't need to..." She smiled wryly. "Did you write this, seeking understanding?"
"No, just because I write, you take pictures..."
She nodded. "Yes, for the taking, rather than the publication. Would you want to publish this?"
"No, I tried once with book one, got a few rejection slips and gave up. I write for my own pleasure, perhaps to unload my mind, does that make some sense?"
Liz shook her head. "I don't know, I keep wondering why I love taking pictures so much... Something of the same thing, I suppose." She chewed her lower lip. "Can I read something else, one of the other books?"
"Start at book 1, chapter 1, if you can remember anything of the beginnings of the Iraq Kuwait conflict."
She nodded again, engrossed, reading on the screen.
"It just made me incredibly randy." Sara reminded me, her hand on my leg.
I was feeling the same way.
"Shall we go into the bedroom?", I asked, softly.
"No, no, here, please!" Liz insisted, "I want to watch... and read."
Sara laughed. "At your command, Liz. Peter, did you say that thing folds out?"
We made our bed from the other settee and made love noisily, joyously and messily, smearing our mess into her breasts and stomach. I was surprisingly randy, particularly enjoying the avid attention that Sara gave to my body, the way she so openly desired me. I won't say we ignored Liz, but maybe we both played it up to wrest her attention from the book.
"You two don't really need me any more, do you?", Liz asked softly.
We froze, mid fuck. Sara spoke first. "I do.", she asserted.
"I do, too, Liz, half of this is for you."
"Good, because, move over Sara. I want to be fucked red raw, then half strangled." She was insatiable, crying, chewing on me with her cervix as she took me deep, then dragging me in hard, desperately, then demanding a mouth fuck, tying up, smacking, to be really hurt. I managed to calm her, then hugged her and kissed her and made gentle, teasing loving love with her as she cried, hugging me all over as I moved within her. She clung like a tiny furry animal as I stroked her hair. "I was so sorry, about Tarifa.", she sobbed. "So sorry for you..."
When we rested, Sara asked softly, "Who is Tarifa?"
I chuckled. "Carnation, a character in book one. God, you read quickly!"
"I flitted ahead, because I came to love her. And him. It was terrible."
"Yet it has happened with you, and for you it was the need as well. His shame, her need unsatisfied... Both of you."
"But he was gentle, caring, mostly. He loved her!"
"Yet never said so..."
"I could tell, the way he acted... Now, I understand how you write... Who was she?"
"Nobody in particular. Maybe all the people I have disappointed..."
"Of course, no one is infallible. He waited too long, was too desperate to retain control, he needed her too much. It happens."
"Then why not with us?"
"Because we made love when we needed to, as often as we needed to. Imagine, if we had seen each other eight or ten times, in company, family, restaurants, with friends. How desperate would you have been? Can you imagine how I would have been, probably just like him..."
"What happens next?"
"Better that you read it..."
"I want to love you."
"There will be other times..."
"Will you print it for me?"
"It will weigh ten kilos!"
"I'm stronger than I look."
"OK, if I can get the paper, I will. Will you read all of it, rather than skipping ahead?"
We looked around, as Sara sat stark naked and started to read. Liz laughed. "Two copies? Or maybe, we can share. Publish, and be damned!"
I took a call from Chris at eight, in respectful silence. Both had admired her pictures on my sideboard. Alex, too.
"You love her very much, don't you?", Sara asked curiously.
I reddened. "Yes, I do. And I can't always square that with being with you two, either. But I'm glad that you understand that it is possible to love more than one person at once, in different ways."
Liz nodded thoughtfully. "Mmm, maybe."
I nodded to Sara. "Sara understands, because she loves you, as well as me."
Liz nodded. "It's different. But I take your point, that is your point, it is different." She sighed and cuddled back. "Why was I so savage, then?"
"Jealousy, sympathy, passion?"
"Clever sod, aren't you!", she sneered. Then she smiled. "I think you are, too, because you understand people, yet you don't talk about their emotions as such. It is hard on simple people like me, brought up on Mills and Boon, though." She snuggled closer, if that was possible. "I'm going to beat Sara off that machine and read some more, though, do you mind?"
As I suspected, there was a scuffle, from which I rescued the computer, closed it down then joined, a free smack in. It was more fun than reading or writing books. I carried them both to the bedroom, one under each arm, and smacked them into bed, then jumped in too. I was able to cuddle one a side, one thigh against each hot spot, one arm around each back. They kissed and made up, then attacked me together, kissing, biting and tickling, which I can resist just so long. Liz sat down on me, Sara on my mouth and they hugged and kissed each other, largely ignoring me until they were both near ready.
Later, Sara confessed, "I always felt inhibited about loving Liz, but what you said earlier makes sense. Tonight, I wanted to love her freely and I did."
I understood that Liz was less inhibited anyway, but tonight she had needed loving, it was very emotional for her. I felt no distaste at all over their relationship and hoped it would continue, with or without me. Once again, I made love to Sara last before we slept, because Liz was already asleep. But we were all over her, she was included.
As usual, Liz awoke after a couple of hours sleep. (It must have affected me by now, because I am writing this at half past four in the morning, suddenly wakeful after three and a half hours sleep, later the same week.) She snuggled, stroked, caressed and sucked me awake, then rode me, stroking Sara too. It was still before midnight, we had slept early.
"I want you to kiss Sara, now!"
Obligingly, Sara leaned over me. We kissed, experimentally at first, then deeply and passionately, as Liz worked harder, her hands at Sara's openings and her hips moving on me, her insides caressing but her mind in Sara's and my kiss. It went on for a long time, because no one wanted it to stop. It was Sara who noticed the camera on its new tripod first, gently whirring as we were filmed. I chuckled, still attached to Sara's mouth. I was surprised that she had waited so long! Realisation may have speeded our progress, confirming Liz's suspicion that Sara in particular performed better with an audience and played to the camera.
Because we knew about the camera, or I did, I wanted to film them for a change. They were so beautiful, yet so different. Classically, Sara was the one most men would go for, taller, blonde, an oval classic face, shaven pussy. Yet for me, Liz's more intense curves and her tiny frame with her higher colour were still as attractive as that first day, when I sat with a painful erection as we talked on the train. It used to happen to me a lot when I was a teenager, seeing girls at school, jus t walking around. As the years rolled by, it was usually some direct assumption of sex to follow that excited me. By now, I had reached the stage of wanting sex and the erection followed, hopefully. It has been over twenty years since the mere act of talking as strangers on a train has made me hard and eager. She has a very powerful affect on me still, something impossible to quantify, for me, she excites.
I have no idea how to convey the way they excite me, in simple terms, as you would in a film. Blatantly rude shots, open crutch, views up knicker legs or skirts are a turn on, but they turn me on fully dressed... I wanted to convey that, yet if say, Liz, wasn't your sudden passion, how could I? So I stopped and asked them both. Except, I hadn't spoken a word when Liz suggested. "It's impossible, it's like the stage, ballet, a play, you have to overdo it to make the point. Think about a fi lm that you particularly liked.."
There are two films that readily spring to mind, one very recent and one rather old. Breakfast at Tiffany's, with Audrey Hepburn, made a massive impression, I recently saw it again, over Christmas and it's effect was just the same, despite knowing the story so well. I find, found, Audrey Hepburn immensely attractive, in all her films, though she doesn't make me feel randy, hard, lustful, but protective, loving and gentle. The other that impressed me greatly was Basic Instinct, with Sharon Stone. Watching that did make me hard, not an easy thing any more. I could feel Liz guiding my thoughts! She was amazing. I turned and watched her face. She bit her lower lip contritely, no, to show contrition.
"OK, so I was following your thoughts, it's getting easier, I can't help it..."
"Yet you were doing more than that, you were nudging me towards analysis and understanding..."
"Well, that was the purpose, not to wallow in sentimentality over Audrey, or lust after that blonde bitch!"
I laughed. "This is the blonde I lust after!". I hugged Sara to my side. "But as you are well aware, in fact I lust after you most of all."
"I like it. It turns me on. I'm not as special as you see me, you know, I'm quite ordinary looking. Be dispassionate about my face, my body. I don't mind, bodies are important."
I tried, but I couldn't. I could sort of see that she was short, her face was narrower above her cheek bones than below, her eyes were brown, but it wasn't true, her eyes were liquid pools of treacle toffee, her stature was perfect, a pocket Venus, her breasts were incredible, and I'm not a breast fetishist, her ... She was beautiful...
"So much for analysis and objectivity!", Sara interjected, wanting some attention herself. So I examined her. Average height, slim, skinny even, small breasts, knobbly knees, no, pert breasts, svelte knees, sea green eyes, golden corn hair, beautifully naked pussy, with that deep pink valley so visible..."
Sara laughed at me. "Hopeless. Look, I think I understand what Liz is trying to make you do, but you are a hopeless romantic! Breakfast at Tiffany's! She was a nutter, but a nutter with a delightful manner. She appealed to the protective instinct in men, which presumably you have in abundance. Liz looks a little bit like her, I often think, the shape of her face. But what you are supposed to be examining is the method that the actor used, or the director used, to turn our feelings. Both w ere over the top. Turning the cat out, I know you like cats, that was a heart tugger. The ice pick, at the peak of climax, that was a chiller. Overdone, but the point was made, the knickers game in Basic Instinct, is she, isn't she? It was greatly overplayed, yet they were demonstrating her personality... You must see it!"
"Thanks, Sara." Liz stroked her belly.
"I do, but I don't know how to translate those well made scenes into what I want to say, how I was immediately attracted to Liz." I drew a breath, but plunged anyway, she had read some of this. "How I wasn't particularly interested in you, who have a figure that is my ideal, a face that would melt a glacier and eyes that burn ice. Yet I doubt I would have chosen you, had circumstances been different..."
"Nor I you, Peter..." She laughed nervously and tossed her hair. "When I first met you, I was appalled! Liz had been raving about this lover who was putting Patrick Swayze and River Phoenix in the shade, then suddenly there was this stuffy looking grey haired old man in a suit! Can you wonder that I burbled crazily in the car? I was horrified, I had blackmailed Liz into letting me sleep with you, and the idea was so unappealing! But I watched, I was turned on by a live sex show, Liz is be autiful, I agree. By that time, you could have been a donkey, in fact the way you barged in that first time, I thought you were! I knew you were annoyed, I wasn't at all happy with myself, but it was great. Suddenly, you looked different. You were slim, elegant, caring, wise, your eyes were terrific, and your bum was always terrific, I thought that when we were in the street. Now, I love you, I see you through different eyes, I dress differently for you, I worked like a Trojan to make you accept me, Liz pro bably doesn't understand. For her, winning you was easy. I had to fight for you." She grinned grimly, then smiled smugly. "But, now I know that it worked, now I can feel your feelings." She stroked my now bristly chin. "I even love that." She guided my hand to her sex. "But not there, will you shave me, please?"
The atmosphere was suddenly charged. She knew how sexy I had found that.
"Have you the gear?"
"Only the razor..." She knew, that was part of it, an open blade. "I couldn't use it, but it excites me as much as you, the danger!"
I was stiff as a pole. She touched me against my own stomach. "Past your navel, really serious." She swivelled around and sat Buddha fashion in front of me. "See what it does for me?" She was open, a film of pearly moisture around her opening. Liz was almost drewling with anticipation. We drew out the preparations, by some sort of common consent. Liz arranged the table lamp on the strange wooden structure, for maximum lighting. Then I was ready, and I tied her to the bed head, her legs wi de as possible back over her shoulders. Liz held me in her hand, jerking at me, pressed against my back, then stretched out her hand to Sara, then remembered her camera, still holding me with one hand.
I washed her carefully first with hot water and soap, rinsed and patted her dry, explained in a strangled tone as I did, that it was supposed to make the shaving more comfortable. Then I smothered her with foam, covering the view, for a few seconds mental relief. I shaved in from her thighs, uncovering pink skin. I was throbbing in Liz's hand which couldn't keep still on me. I shaved in from the other side, parted the cheeks of her bottom and shaved her anal cleft, fascinated by the way h er no longer virgin bottom twitched, tight closed, then relaxed, then even a fraction open, then tight closed again as the blade slowly travelled across her incredibly smooth skin. I held each labis? Or whatever the singular of labia is, flat, so that I could shave her cleanly. She was so open, and so hard herself, that her normally small clitoris was straining from its sheath, its own tiny purple head mimicking mine in its pulsing. I shaved the middle of her lower abdomen, but had to untie her to clear the groin area. She arched backwards, so that I could tie her again, her stomach bowed out. I shaved her groin area, then turned her back and finished off washing her free of foam, pampering her, removing the odd whisker along with an imaginary one beside her clitoris. Suddenly, she climaxed, her opening pulsing for her and me and Liz and the camera, climaxed wetly for her too.
I licked her dry and around and she came again. Liz left the camera on its tripod and buried her face, making her come again, her hand never ceasing to twitch on me. I sucked her unmercifully, as she squirmed and wriggled, my hands on her breasts, squeezing her nipples, as she shuddered and throbbed. I leaned over her and plunged in and stroked twice and burst with her as her muscles gripped and released me with a mind of their own. I was spent, in seconds. Liz was dancing about holding h erself, suddenly pleading, "Do me now, Peter, please, Peter."
I thought she meant make love to her, I wasn't tuned in, she meant shave her. "Shave me, shave me!", she squeaked, her face screwed up in an internal agony.
"But I love your furry bush!", I protested.
"It'll grow again!", she insisted through clenched teeth.
I tied her to the bottom of the bed, where the rails were lower. It's a good job that I have plenty of ties! First, backwards, with her back concave, her stomach so tightly convex that her navel stood out. I kissed it. I slowly and carefully washed her, dried her and teased her curls regretfully. Next, the foam, then a clean swathe, past the point of no return, quickly clearing the lower abdomen and groins. I turned her into the less painful legs over shoulder position that held her sex a t the highest point. I was now rock hard again, having shrunk to a mere nothing after exploding in Sara. I shaved in from her beautifully hard muscled thighs, up her more pronounced, more fleshy labia, stretching them flat as I shaved, her fine dark hairs from between the cheeks of her bottom which was doing an even more pronounced dance of fear. I washed her off and tidied up, gawping at the barren wasteland that I had created, its valleys and hills, her larger clitoris, more pronounced labia, red rather t han deep pink. I kissed her nakedness regretfully, because, it just didn't suit her so well, yet she came very quickly in my mouth. I brought her a mirror. I don't think she liked it either, but there was no doubt that it was sexy. I took longer in Liz, partly because Sara had taken the initial tension off me, and partly because Liz needed something to take her mind off her new baldness. The position was more awkward too, even so Liz soon brought us both to a resounding climax, opening to me when I could po sition myself properly to penetrate. She had to take nearly all my weight, sometimes I forget how strong she is.
Sara interrupted me. "Peter, the camera!" As I realigned it and changed the tape, Sara squeaked. "I want to wee, I've waited ages!"
I emptied the bowl first, to make her wait. It was totally fascinating to me, to watch her wee upwards, and catch her stream, then release her bonds. Then Liz wanted to as well. This time, nothing was hidden. I emptied the bowl, relieved myself as Sara held me, then returned to Liz. I don't know why, but her open stance made me want to do it. I slowly and carefully worked my fingers into her, feeling the bone give, open, as she strained to help me. It took five minutes to slip my knuckles inside, then my fingers through her cervix. She was crying, but her hands were both dragging my wrist hard into her, I knew she needed to do this strange thing as much as I did. I was able to feel inside her womb with my fingers, knowing her insides as impossibly as I knew her at all. Then she pulled at my wrist, I edged myself free and untied her. She hunched over, in a ball, then presented a tearful face and smiled crookedly.
"You know what I want, every time. No, I like me hairy better too, it will grow, I just wanted to experience the fear, but of course, I trust you. It wasn't as effective as I expected. But that was. Mind you, I'll bet I walk funny!"
"How do you open like that? I couldn't, try, Peter? Please?" Sara was tense, excited.
Liz cautioned her, "Look, Sara, I can open myself, you know, Yoga. You haven't got that far, yet. Just wait, eh?"
"I want it!" Her voice was petulant, but with an underlying steel.
"I'll hurt you.", I warned.
"So hurt me. I like you to hurt me, hadn't you noticed?"
It was true, and I hadn't noticed, yes I had, but not quantified it as such. I shrugged. "I'll have to tie you up again."
She rolled back against the bed head, legs akimbo. I smiled, tied her back and kissed her, then became engrossed and sucked at her until she came. I explored with just two fingers at first, that in itself a tight fit. Then I inserted a third. I felt her bone give and looked at Liz sharply. I had somehow sensed her involvement, caught a suggestion of coercion, control. Sara welcomed it. I slipped all four fingers in and explored, then my thumb. But there was no way that she could open her very pubic bone, in the way that Liz could. Sara heaved at my hand, but I resisted, "Sara, Sara, I can't, you'll break my fingers."
She suddenly sobered up, releasing me. I withdrew my hand. Liz explored her openness with the camera, before she closed up, fascinated herself. Sara was annoyed with herself. "Why can't I do that, Liz, I want to?", she asked, as I untied her.
Liz explained how she managed to open her very bone, the danger of opening elsewhere and making a mess, by exhausting her bowel by mistake. Sara nodded in understanding, making for the toilet to do just that. She sat quite unconcernedly, without closing the door, wiped, washed and rejoined us as Liz explained about opening her cervix to accommodate my length. She wanted to photograph that, see inside Liz herself.
"Let's leave that for tonight, eh, Sara? I ache a bit. I just want to rest, now." She eyed me. "I don't suppose that shop of yours sells wigs for naked fannies?"
We all laughed at her serious face. She was very self conscious of her nakedness, but then demanded a mirror, then smiled, "No, I don't need that, just to see the video!"
Sara hadn't brought her video player, I didn't have one. Impasse. Liz contained herself remarkably well, but wondered, "There must be someone in these flats that would lend us one?"
I explained that I had only met Kathy and her fella, Dick I thought, two floors down, when I was with Chris and Alex. Liz made a face. "I can hardly ask them, unless I pretend to be your daughter or something. No, better not, in case Chris sees them again. Forget it, I'll wait." She eyed me speculatively again, around the groin area, where I was flaccid, shrunken and curled up. "I'm going to read to you..." A strange twisted grin accompanied this suggestion.
I understood. "Try Book 3, Chapter twenty nine, B329.DOC."
Liz read the second half of the chapter to me, to us. She hoped that it would turn me on. In a way she was successful, but having read it, as well as written it, I was familiar with the passage to a degree. For her and Sara, it wasn't just an aphrodisiac, it made Sara lose some of her control.
"You knew, all about us... You are that James, aren't you? You know we need to be hurt! How do you know, can you see into us as he did? Who are you?" She sat cross legged, with her hands at her opening, her own fingers inside herself, needing to fill the void.
Liz eyed me speculatively. "I thought the idea of mental communication was something I had to convince you of, yet, this chapter is all about it?" She dropped her eyes to her now naked sex. "I can hardly keep my hands off myself. And that is bigger than ever. Can you really expand it?"
I laughed. "Pure fiction, Liz, Sara. But I have experienced some form of mental communication before, just as we have together. I enlarged on the subject, poetic licence."
Liz nodded. "What does this Kirsten woman do to expand him, you?" She nodded to me. "Like that?"
I looked at myself. She had a point. Liz found a measure and checked. "You remember that I measured you up, for the ball holder? You are three inches longer, and half an inch more around, now. You can stretch yourself, can't you? And you know all about penetrating the cervix, don't you? You mentioned it in there." Liz concentrated on me with all her considerable mental ability, then measured again. "Another inch. Did I do that?"
I didn't know, but fiction was coming true. "I imagine so, Liz, but this was all supposition. Until now." I was feeling incredibly randy. "I do know one thing though, I want you, just like at the end of that chapter. The thing that worries me, is will I damage you?"
"There is only one way to find out." Calmly, but with a tell tale muscle trembling at her inner thigh, she bent over the edge of the bed. I eased in very carefully, passing her inner barrier with her help. She was very wet, which was just as well. I thrust in to the hilt. She moaned, rather than screamed. I pulled at her hip bones, lifting her with my pubic bone, and thrust as deep as I could. She screamed, then collapsed, hanging from me. I let her go, let her slowly fall to the floor. S ara ran to her side and cuddled her. I could see her opening pulsing all by itself, as she exploded within herself, her face white. I could feel the mental energy of her climax, so could Sara.
Sara stood and bent over the bed, offering herself. "Maybe you know how to open me inside, Liz has been trying to teach me. Come on!" Her voice was challenging as she looked back at me over her own shoulder. I couldn't help it, the offer was too tempting. She was visibly still open. I was a tight fit in her tube as I slipped inside, then came up against her barrier. I could feel it twitching against me. I concentrated my mind, trying to duplicate the sensation that I had felt in Liz. We a ll three ignored the wind that Sara passed, as her bowels loosened with her cervix. I edged deeper. I could feel her pain, but she didn't stop trying, and I was through! We all three relaxed for a moment, Liz was working just as hard as either of us. Then Sara was able to release me a little and I pressed deeper. It was the first time I had been inside her womb. She was tight all the way. When my abdomen touched the cheeks of her bottom, I held her hips and pulled her back on to me, lifting her from the flo or. There was a hard pressure against my tip. I was as far in as I would ever be.
Liz's face was cruel as she concentrated on expanding me inside her friend. I think she was jealous that now Sara could do everything that she did for me. Yet it wasn't true, because I could never love Sara as much, or the way that I did Liz.
As Liz sensed this thought, she let me rest. I couldn't move within Sara, until Liz lifted Sara's legs onto the edge of the bed, wide open. Then I was able to move a little and then thrust deep. I felt her go, all the way along, yet I was unable to release myself because it was all too tight. I lifted Sara free, with help from Liz and lay back exhausted on the bed, Sara beside me, Liz half on top.
"It isn't as much fun as you made it sound in the book." Sara commented. "But it did make me come in the most strange way. You both did it, didn't you, opened me?"
I nodded, Liz smiled grimly. "Yes." Her eyes were riveted on me. "I wanted something like that to happen, when I said I would read to you two. Yet now, I have no idea what to do with it."
Sara looked at me, then away. She shook her head. Then she smiled. "I suppose we could go out and find a bigger woman for him?"
Liz laughed. "I suppose we could. Would you like that, Peter? What do you fancy, old or young, redhead for a change? Big or small? Beautiful, of course, or at least attractive." I thought where they would go, in an ironical dream. Liz stood up, unable to stand with her legs together. Sara joined her. I began to realise that they were serious, when then started to dress.
I should never have gone in the bar, to wait. When I came out, thinking there were still a few minutes before it was due, there was the train, on the opposite platform. I ran over the bridge, and missed it decisively. Not a good start! Never one to give in, I found the man who knew and asked.
"How do I get the Edinburgh train at Bolton, now I've just missed the Bolton train?" I smiled, hopefully. "Please?"
He knew his stuff. He smiled back and pointed. "That train to Piccadilly, next stop. The Edinburgh train will be the next into the same platform, you can't miss it because it will be behind you!"
Gratefully, I called my thanks back as I leaped into the express. He was right, one stop, off, then on again. Simple, it was going to be my day. I sought the rare and much prized smoking compartment, a mere one out of ten, with twenty five per cent of the population smokers. It was well patronised, compared to the rest of the train, but there were three empty spaces at a table for four, near the far end. That the young lady occupying the one seat taken was attractive, served as an added b onus.
I settled myself comfortably for a three hour journey from Manchester, deciding on the book I had bought at Chester, the start of my journey. Any desire for conversation was killed stone dead because my companion was listening to a Walkman, sharing only a maddening tinkling sound with me. Loud enough to hear, but not to hear what she was listening to. Occasionally, I caught sight of her. She was petite, young, so difficult to tell how young. Dark hair, wavy, to her shoulders. Brown eyes. Her cheekbones were high, noticeably so because her temples seemed hollowed above them. She wore a dark blue faded tee shirt type top, vee-necked. I noticed, because she had high round breasts with pointed nipples, no bra. I could hardly not notice, I am human. I concentrated on the book, absorbed.
"Do you know how long to Edinburgh?", a voice asked.
I looked up. She was smiling, head phones removed. She looked better without them. "We arrive about two, I think."
"Any idea what time it is now?"
I wore no watch, they die quickly on my wrist, so I have given up. Consequently, I am used to estimating time. We had left Manchester around eleven, we were close to Lancaster. "About twelve, I imagine, two hours to go." I hesitated a moment or two, anxious to speak with her further, but not wishing to become a bore. "Where did you start from?" It could easily be ignored.
"London. It seems to take forever!"
I was surprised, there is a fast east coast route, from Kings Cross, that takes about four and a half hours from London. This way must take a lot longer. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there wasn't a train at the right time, who cared, I was pleased she was on my train. Slowly, we learned about each other. She was a ballet student in London, staying mostly with relatives in Hackney, but her mother still lived in Edinburgh. I was a computer analyst programmer, looking for work! Her father had le ft home, she was a little bitter, because he helped out very little, travelling mostly abroad. I was thrice divorced and four times married, I could see her disapproval.
She talked about the difficulties of training in London and visiting Edinburgh. I wondered, was this route cheaper? After a while, she asked if I would mind her things, while she went to the buffet.
"Can I get you anything?", she enquired. A kind thought.
"A beer, and a sandwich, anything, please."
I offered her money, but she declined, "Wait 'til I get back."
I turned and watched as she walked back down the train. She was petite, but perfectly formed, a woman's hips, a very tight waist, she walked well. So she should, a ballet student! I entertained a few hastily stifled thoughts of a lascivious nature, she was young.
She returned and explained, "I couldn't get the beer, I brought coffee, is that OK?"
Quickly, I understood, she was probably refused beer. "Fine, better." I settled the account, having to remind her. Our hands touched. Was it my imagination, or did hers linger too? There is no fool like an old fool, I was probably older than her father. Later, I discovered that I was ten years older. We talked, about business, computer systems, dancing, school, parents, children, wives. No boyfriend worthy of mention, apparently, or she would have reciprocated to my happy admission to a w ife and eight year old son, apart from some children in the past now older than her, considerably older.
We discussed my business, why I did contract work.
"Because it pays, a lot. When I haven't enough business, I look for a contract."
She was interested, or so it seemed. I explained about my miscellaneous enterprises. Building computers, installing and configuring them, writing software. InfoBase, my catch all product, but it didn't make the tea. It does now. OK, so I lie, but it could, it will if you will pay me enough.
She encouraged me to take the risk, spend every penny on promoting the product and go for broke. That probably told me more about her than anything else, she would have taken the risk, but I no longer would. I had tried and failed in the past. Succeeded sometimes too, but one company liquidation was enough for me. When she learned of the wages of sin, contracting, in this case about eight hundred pounds a week, she took my point. I think she thought it immoral, without understanding that it had to cover holidays, sick pay, the employers NI percentage of ten and three quarters percent, travelling, accommodation, accountants.... It's OK, but not as good as it sounds!
Edinburgh was getting closer, she sat forward eagerly as she talked, her cleavage beneath my nose, occasionally touching my hand to add accent to a point, to communicate. I was entranced, but I didn't know her name, I was married, she was about thirty three years my junior and I wanted her.
I made the excuse, "Maybe you will want a computer, one day. Call me.", and gave her my card, one of many scattered on the waters...
In Edinburgh, I was being met by Alison from the agency, I had never met her, but we were to meet by John Menzies book stall. I carried my young ballerina's case, noticing that she was tiny beside me, I am only five foot ten. She was waiting for someone to collect her, her mother I assumed, so as I identified Alison, a tall dark haired young lady of perhaps thirty, still too young for me! I bid her adieu.
I secured the job, start Monday week in Glasgow, and had a lonely journey home, without her.
We were happy and sad, my wife and I. We needed the money, business had gone flat, although we had a few thousand, it was running out fast. Normally, we both worked from home, spelling each other with parenting, sharing cooking and cleaning more or less equitably, although Chris did more cleaning and I more cooking and washing up. I worked ten or twelve hours a day for a week to clear up work in hand. Chris was busy with her book keeping and accountancy business, so poor Alex as usual was ignored a little, but not all of the time.
I left by train on the Sunday afternoon, because someone had driven into my car on the Thursday. It took me eleven weeks to get paid, claiming direct against Pearl Assurance. Be Assured that they will do anything rather than pay!
The B & B was fine, the owner a garrulous well travelled Scot, ex policeman, who doubled up by running safari tours by Land Rover in Africa and Asia. I was to be met by the agent, and introduced to the people at The Company, but he was late on that Monday, then he got lost! I always keep very quiet and listen a lot in a new place, most unlike my true self!
The second week was more fun, because Carys came back off holiday. I should explain, that Carys is forty-ish, an ex model, with incredibly long slim legs and an exciting top hamper. I was quite frank, I told her I fancied her by the Thursday of that week. Was she offended? I doubt it, because she told everyone of my shocking confession. She didn't speak to me for three days, though! I meant just what I said, but maybe 'fancy' shows eternal love in Glasgow! Strangely, she was English, from Kent, but married to a Scot. She caustically rejected my advances, explaining that she was looking for a toy boy, and that I hardly fitted the image. We became friends, teasing each other. Perhaps one day she will be desperate and I will be there, but I'm not that bothered.
In addition, there was Ellie. She was twenty nine, five foot eight, dark curly hair, freckles, an exciting and hard body and hates smokers. I smoke! I cannot help being attracted to her, she is even more shocked than Carys when my admission of lustful desire is squeezed from me. It definitely isn't done to be honest here!
I find a soul mate, Andy Allen, also twenty nine, but sharing my ideas and desire to avoid the 'canteen', we often lunch in the pub or go on a crawl around the bars in the evening. He has a wife in Leeds and a girl friend in Newcastle, an attractive slim New Zealand girl. I find a few contractors who work away from home and therefore are at a loose end in the evenings to while away the hours. The 'Old Foundry', is the local pub to my B&B, ideal in that it sells reasonable beer, good f ood and is staffed by attractive young ladies.
At the end of week three, the flat Andy and I were considering renting together falls through. Too late to renew at the B&B, Dick very kindly arranges for me to go to another B&B, Mrs McHughs', the following week. She makes me tea, in the evenings, when I get home. A home from home, I didn't return to Dick's. Gradually, I gain confidence and settle in at The Company. My contract is renewed, usually only eight weeks at a time. The young lady on the train often crosses my mind, but only in passing.
Then, on a Friday night in May, about eight o'clock back in Chester, I play back a message on the answering machine. 'It's Liz Colquoun, we met on the train to Edinburgh. Did you get the job?' She left a number in Edinburgh. I quickly rewound the tape and erased the message, rather than have to explain. Chris, my wife, is wonderful, not jealous, because she is very confident, but neither is she stupid. I always tell her of any stray meetings such as the young lady on the train, a Liz I no w know, but in a jocular fashion. Therefore it was lucky that only I got the message.
Chris came back from wherever with Alex, my son. It was the following morning before she remembered. "Oh, there was a call on the machine, a woman in Scotland, did you get it?"
I nodded, "Mmm, I'll call her next week."
Chris was probably going to ask who, what, why and where, but something happened and it all passed over. It was Monday before I called Liz, from Glasgow. She was diffident. "I just wondered how the interview went?"
"Great, I got the job, started the following week. Are you back in Edinburgh for a while?"
"Only 'til Thursday."
"Can we meet?"
There was no immediate response. I tried again.
"Dinner, tomorrow night? I could be there by eight."
"My Mum's away..."
I wasn't sure of the relevance of that comment. "It doesn't matter, where shall we meet, or shall I pick you up?" Assume acceptance, rule one.
"No, in town. You know the Scott Memorial?"
"Of course, who doesn't?" The most prominent landmark in Edinburgh, if you ignore the Castle and King Arthur's Seat, which are both too big and too windy!
I had a hair cut on the Tuesday lunch time to celebrate. About five years ago, it suddenly went grey and fine. If it grows too long, I tend to look like a mad professor, so I have been told. The woman was good, she wrought a massive improvement, a tall Glasgow blonde, very into tight trousers and boots. Carys, my fancied one, immediately noticed.
"Peter, it makes you look ten years older!" I knew she meant younger, she was a cat! Carys was forty two, her face starting to show the odd wrin kle, with two daughters, nineteen and sixteen. Her current husband was her second and worked on contract like me, but in Aberdeen. Regrettably, I didn't excite her enough for her to stray, but she was aware of me and I of her.
Thus fortified, I set off for Edinburgh, timing things perfectly. I had hired a car from 'Cheap Car Hire', of Fflint Mountain, when mine was dead, and kept the hire going because a Sierra 1.8GL for £54 per week, plus VAT which I could reclaim, was too cheap to miss. The trusty Sierra cruised at ninety all day, so Edinburgh was no problem.
To my surprise, she was there, where I expected. I was quite prepared for her to have gone, not come, thought better of it, or whatever. I called to her, in the busiest traffic area, the car door open. Her smile lit up the place when she recognised me, worth seventy miles for anyone. She slipped into the seat beside me, I had forgotten quite how petite she was. A short skirt and leggings, with a tee shirt top and a leather jacket. I felt very staid in my office suit, but I had no time to change, straight from work. To get in my statutory thirty seven hours, I arrive about one on Monday and leave around two on Friday, hence late nights on Tuesday through Thursday.
There was an awkward silence, then I asked, "Any ideas where to eat? I'm starving!" We were cruising along Princes Street with the castle on our left.
"What do you like?"
"Anything, Italian, Chinese, even Scottish. It's your town. Don't worry about cost, I'm not hard up." I was a student once, though rarely an impoverished one. We decided on Chinese and followed her directions, left beyond the castle. Now it was Vietnamese, but no matter. I was very conscious that she looked like my grand daughter, as we were shown to a table and the order taken, a banquet for two. We had wine, red, my choice, which we both drank.
Liz was very mature for sixteen. We established each others ages in the conversation, whether forty nine was a shock to her I couldn't tell. At her age, anything over twenty five was ancient to me. I forbore from asking why she had called me. The conversation became easy, not all personal, Bosnia, the Gulf war, my hobby of writing... I soon realised that only very recent or ancient history was of any interest. At the time of Maggie's ascension to the throne of Parliament, she was a mere b abe in arms. Born in 'seventy seven when I was already thinking of starting my own business. She was a Leo.
We enjoyed the meal, happy and relaxed from a shared bottle of wine. They might have queried her age, but I have a confident air and it never crossed my mind until afterwards, so it worked. The bill was reasonable. I was impressed that she offered to split it with me, but I think she was relieved when I declined. I could afford it. What next? I considered a club, but I was never much of a dancer and she was almost a professional. It wasn't what she had in mind apparently, because she aske d diffidently. "Will you take me back and have a coffee?"
Under other circumstances, my immediate reaction would have been a wide lascivious grin and a whoop of joy. It could not be, because of her age. But there was a two fold advantage, maybe three. She was spared my dancing, I was spared embarrassment and I would find out where she lived, meet Mum. Then I remembered, Mum was away.
The drive was no more than fifteen minutes, I didn't count. The conversation died. We were both nervous, to the extent of colliding as I opened her car door and she bounded out, and again as she suddenly decided that she should precede me into the house, having stood back.
"Calm down, I am not going to eat you!" I deliberately sounded old, but I was as nervous as she. She showed me into a comfortable front room in a reasonable council house, I supposed, then disappeared to make coffee and a quick visit to the loo, I heard the flush. I browsed, admiring photographs of her and her family. Her parents were both considerably my junior, or maybe the photos were old! Yet she was mature, already. I had to convince her that I wasn't joking, I do like my coffee blac k with two coffees and four sugars. Like Turkish coffee, or treacle toffee, as she termed it. It broke the ice a little, we both relaxed. Her taste in music wasn't all Swan Lake, she played Joni Mitchell. It bridged a gap.
We sat opposite and soon both hunched forward over the coffee table, as we had on the train. It was interest, involvement, our conversations were like that. She was very frank, often arguing her point, dismissive of my ideas. It was refreshing, because my wife and I agree so well, we rarely argue. We tend to avoid contentious areas automatically as Chris loves a quiet life. Liz invited conflict, but argued her corner well. She thrived on conversation, her complexion reddening in front of the gas fire which we didn't really need. She took off her jacket and hung mine up somewhere. "It's nice to see you relaxed, you always look so formal!"
People always say that about me, I must be the only man in the world who feels comfortable in a suit jacket! I couldn't help noticing the outline of her breasts in the clinging tee shirt, much as I had on the train. Her legs were elegant and well muscled, though without an ounce of spare flesh. As she returned from the hall, she hesitated beside me. I took her hand. "Why did you call me?"
It was unfair, ungentlemanly and I shouldn't have asked, because by now, I almost knew. Yet I had to ask. Normally, I am a talker, but a silent and tactile lover. I dared not touch her body.
"We got on so well!", she explained, with a shrug and a smile. She sat on the arm of my chair and leaned against me, holding my hand still. "We have tonight."
"I've had a wonderful evening, you bring me alive."
"You might not believe this, but I don't talk much." She giggled girlishly. "Tonight, I've hardly stopped, I feel so good." She was still for moment. "In London, at ballet school, they are very free and easy. Everyone expects to jump into bed with each other, though there are too few men and some of them prefer each other. I'm not a virgin. But I don't like it, we can't talk. You are the only man I feel comfortable with." I was sure she was going to add, 'Since Dad went.', but she bit he r bottom lip. "Do you like me?", she asked ingenuously.
I hugged her close to me, what else could I do? "Of course I do, why else am I here? You fascinate me, I have thought of you so often since the seventh of January."
"From twelve until two, I wasted an hour, before I had the guts to break into your book!"
"I hadn't the guts to rip your headphones off."
She laughed with me, a musical laugh, and slid off the arm of the chair down beside me, jammed tight. Her skirt was dragged up, she was all clinging leggings and tee shirt. My arm still held her slim waist tightly. She twisted her body towards me, her pointed breast pressed against my ribs, as she looked up, her lips parted slightly. I kissed her.
It wasn't intended, I just couldn't resist. It went on a long time. First, it was just the touching of closed lips, then I felt her ease all over her body as her mouth opened to me. I explored tentatively, her teeth white, close and the front two a little crooked. Her tongue found the gaps between mine and pushed in. Her hand grasped my inner thigh, her thumb against me.
I knew she could feel that I was hard, I had been for half an hour! Office suit trousers hide these things better than modern tight jeans! I turned in the chair so that our bodies were against each other, both my arms around her. I found that one hand was cupping her tight buttock, undisguised by the leggings, the other holding her back under the tee shirt. She thrust forward against me, feeling my hardness. Suddenly, she broke away from the kiss, she was trembling. Her hand was still at my groin. Quite deliberately, she looked down and caressed my testicles and then grasped me through my trousers. "You want me!"
"I certainly do, but..."
"I know what you are going to say, so don't, don't don't.. I told you, I'm not a virgin. Will you come to bed with me, I'm on the pill?"
I laughed softly. "And I've had a vasectomy! What a waste!"
She was suddenly concerned. Her face tightened in concentration. "Er, does that mean you can't?..."
I laughed. "Yes, it means I can't make you pregnant. It doesn't stop me making love to you, that is all in the mind, or was. Come on..."
It was a struggle, we were jammed so tightly together in the arm chair, but we managed. We made her room, with a double bed, posters, and clothes all around. I undressed her, what little there was left, slowly and lasciviously, first unbuttoning the waistband of her skirt, then lifting her tee shirt over her short dark hair. I knelt to kiss her breasts, incredibly firm and round, not massive in absolute terms, but big on her slight frame.
I eased down her leggings and knickers together, e xposing a dark curly bush that was still a little sparse and neatly trimmed to a leotard line. I pushed her back onto the bed and trickled my lips and tongue down her stomach and into the little bush. Her legs opened voluntarily, wide and back.
I probed with my tongue, finding that hot silky valley and the pointed mound in its centre. Not so tiny, hard and hot. I enfolded it in my lips and sucked, rubbing with the tip of my tongue as my hands caressed her groin and the flat of her stomach.
In minutes, she arched up, pressing herself against my mouth as she came with a high pitched wail, then subsided and sat up, clutching my head close against herself and wrapping her legs around my back as she came a second time. Then she relax ed.
"No one ever did that to me. Either of them." She giggled, still hugging my head. "Can you breathe?"
My reply, "Enough,", was muffled. She released me. As I lifted my head, she kissed me ferociously, all hard tongue and teeth, biting my lips and thrusting inside me. I lay over her, holding her close, then she swung lithely from under me and crowed as she turned me on my back and straddled me. She unbuttoned my shirt, slowly, teasing the hairs on my chest as she explored. The harsh light was on above her.
Her body was perfect, tiny waist, swelling hips, and aggressive breasts. I held them , intending to support, but they had no need. Now, her nipples were ultra-sensitive, she writhed beneath my palms. She unbuttoned the cuffs so carefully and pulled the shirt under my shoulders and off. Then the waist band of my trousers. I let her explore, she was concentrating so hard, biting her bottom lip as she continued. She was well organised too, because she removed my shoes first, behind herself, before easing down my trousers. She wriggled them down under herself and off, as I arched to help, lifti ng her off the bed.
She left the underpants, briefs, until last, peeling them back and jumping back as I sprung free. "You're big!", she squealed. I had nothing to compare with, I have seen many naked women, but not so many men, certainly not ready for action! I was pleased that she was pleased. She whisked them away, then grasped me with both hands, one above the other, exposing the angry purple helmet between her thumb and forefinger.
"Come on, if you are ready?", I asked, hopefully. She wriggled her damp underside down my leg and giggled self consciously. "I'm frightened, but I always wondered about this..." She leaned forward and placed her open lips over me, then touched with her tongue. She must have tasted a tiny drop of clear fluid, my excitement.
She jerked away, licked her lips, them with a crooked smile, she went back. She emulated my actions on her, with great effect. She sucked and probed with her tongue, u sing the rough side, then the smooth. She was only sucking the tip, her hands still encircled me. She was learning, and enjoying herself but the last thing I wanted to do was put her off this for life, so I pointed out, "If you keep on like that, you are going to get a mouthful!"
She sat bolt upright, then wriggled her groin against my shin reflectively. "I thought you had a vasectomy, surely, nothing comes out any more?"
Lying there, arched off the bed, my pride and joy firmly grasped in her hands, I explained. "That only cuts off the supply of sperm, that can make you pregnant. You would still get ninety nine percent of the load, from my prostate gland."
She was torn, I could tell. "And I may not be able to get stiff again for a while!"
That was the clincher. Perversely, she lowered her mouth over me again, taking a while to bring me back to the edge where I had been. She seemed to sense. She lifted off a second, and said. "I want a mouthful, all of it, so tell me what to do." She went back to her work.
I had a problem, I love this, but have spoiled my chances more than once, by coming in an inexperienced woman's mouth. They go off the idea, or go mad on it. But she was determined, her butt wriggling with delight as she sucked and licked. I unfolded her fingers and guided her gently with my hands on her cheeks, further on. She hesitated, then plunged, then backed off as I hit the back of her throat, then came on again more gently. She was avid, eager and getting better. I arched up under her, wanting to thrust deep into her mouth and throat, OK, so I'm a bastard! I held her head, but she sucked and gulped and bucked gamely, until I let go. She kept on sucking, gulping me down, her hands dragging at my balls, her head bobbing up and down. As I subsided to the covers, she pulled away with a rude slurp and sat back, grinning widely, rubbing herself delightedly against my leg until she came. A dribble of milky fluid, mine, slid down her chin from the corner of her mouth, but a pointed pink ton gue darted out and licked it back in. I was still hard, amazingly, she still held me tight.
Her voice was a little wobbly, as she announced, "I LIKE that, very much." She cocked her head on one side. "You thought I wouldn't?"
I grinned, pleased at her decisive verdict. "Not everyone does.", I countered.
"Not every man will do that for a woman." I was surprised at her choice of words, she was a girl. But in this respect, she was right, she was a woman. "You liked kissing me there, didn't you?"
"I love it, I love kissing you anywhere, come here!" I opened my arms, I wanted to cuddle her close. We pressed close together and I tasted my saltiness as I kissed, her. She broke away and licked around her mouth. "You aren't having that back!", then dived back in. I turned her underneath me, parted her legs, and touched her with my fingers first.
Her bone jutted forward and down aggressively, I teased her valley, then slipped a finger into her, then two. She was small and tight. I was a little worried, still, I may be long, who knows, but only thin. Her thumb and forefinger almost met around my shaft and her hands were small. I touched at her entrance
She thrust up against me, making the initial penetration with her own efforts. Then, I slid in gently. She caught her breath, then thrust back. After five or six careful strokes, I was home, as far as I could go, but not bone to bone, as I wished to be. I gently moved back and forth, her legs opened even wider, but she gasped as I pressed too hard. I would have to settle for enough. It took a long time, slow strokes, but I could feel that she was on the edge, arched beneath me. I slipped my hand between us and caressed her proud mound as I thrust more urgently into her, ever mindful of the limit.
It was frustrating, Chris can take all of me, but then after a baby she isn't so tight. Even before, she was deep enough, it only used to hurt her if I tried from behind. Liz was bucking crazily, and moaned, then howled, then screamed as my fingers did what my pubic bone couldn't. I kept moving until she was relaxed, collapsed, then curled up and stilling me with her hands, sobbing wildly.
We rested. I hadn't come this time, but then, this was for her. I dried her cheeks with my fingers, and kissed her eyes and her chin and her nose and her neck. She stroked my back and tried to reach my buttocks, but her arms were too short, or I was too long!
"Thank you.", I whispered softly in her ear.
"Thank YOU!", she replied. "That was my first time..."
I was amazed, she said she wasn't a virgin, there was no evidence that she was. Of course, a dancer, she might have ruptured it all by herself. "Your first time?, I queried, incredulously. "Surely...?"
"Oh no, I told you I wasn't a virgin. I mean, the first time it did anything for ME! You were good."
Working it all out, I understood that her experience was limited to two fellas, neither of whom could wait long enough to please her. Bastards! I was angry for her. Yet, I wasn't so cracking hot at her age, it all seemed to happen so quickly, no control. Age has it's benefits. And it's drawbacks, I was still stiff as a rod and unsatisfied. I wanted her still.
That in itself surprised me, because with Chris, and practise, we carefully orchestrated a mutual coming and that was it, both sati sfied, a wash and sleep. Of course, it was always so late after we had done everything, all those chores... In all our thirteen years of marriage, she has only once managed to make me come with her mouth, out of two attempts, but then I know that she doesn't like it... I hold back, she is reluctant, we always go for the real thing... I shouldn't be thinking of Chris, now...
"How about you?", she asked, watching my face.
"Don't lie to me, you did that for me, what about you?"
"You made me come once, you drank me down..." I was immensely grateful, I don't know why it matters, but it does... "Thank you."
"Fuck me." She coloured, bright red, shocked by her own words. "You were holding back, I could tell, why?"
Reluctantly, I decided on honesty, although the words were damning for anything in the future. "I hit bottom. I mean, you couldn't absorb all of me, I couldn't rub my bone against yours, to pleasure you. I had to use my fingers..."
"I am only five foot. Nearly." She was pensive sucking her finger tips self consciously. "Why does it stop, can't you go right through?"
"Through where?", I asked, puzzled.
"Though into my womb. I bleed from there, there most be a hole!"
"Your cervix!" Now I understood. "That is a very strong muscle that is only opened by your hormones, when you bleed, to expel the unused placenta, or to let a baby out."
"Oh. You know so much about how I work, I suppose, you learn..."
"We all learn, in time. Don't forget, I have had many years beyond yours to learn about women, and about me."
She rolled us over with surprising strength. She sat over me again, and lowered herself carefully on. I could tell she was drying out and she attempted to take it all in one go.
"Lift up, then down..., " I encouraged her, trying to protect her from pain.
She understood, her hands on my chest as she experimented, then grinned widely as she forced her own lubrication to help her. "This is better." She tried to sink down hard onto me, but was unable. With amazing strength, she sat up straight and hovered, a good inch and a half yet to be absorbed. I felt a movement with my tip, then she was sliding down, my tip was strangled then popped free.
She cried, tears streaming down her face, tears of joy and pain and fear. But as she rested her bone on mine and oscillated experimentally, her eyes flew wide and she groaned with a maturity so far beyond her years that I cried, then I came deep inside her in bursting gouts of agony, she was so tight, she felt me inside her and rubbed frantically, needing my hands to work her hips as the feeling incapacitated her, then we were both done.
I grew limp and soft inside her, which she regarded as triumph, maybe she was right. Certainly, we were satisfied. I had trouble withdrawing, because her muscle inside had closed, trapping my tip. We had to wriggle apart, drawing me out so that the soft snake took forever to emerge.
She collapsed onto my chest, hugging me and nibbling me with tiny biting kisses. I enclosed her in my arms, her body curled into mine with a breast in each hand. We slept.