Davina Does Christmas
Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2017
Distributed by Smashwords
All characters and events in this publication,
other than those clearly in the public domain,
are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Eighteen - A Night at Ellie’s
Nineteen - Playtime
Twenty - Another Mild Confrontation
Twenty-One - Christmas Kisses
Twenty-Two - Lorna
Twenty-Three - Meryl
Twenty-Four - More Meryl
Twenty-Five - A Late Night Call
Twenty-Six - A Sinful Saturday Afternoon
Yes, it’s me again, Davina, here to give you the dirt on my
life to date.
sounds good, doesn’t it? It sounds as if I’m much more
interesting than your average IT nerd; as if I’ve got a dark side
and secrets to shock the world.
are other stories circulating about me. Some of them were written by
yours truly, some by ex-lovers of mine. Anyone who missed them is
welcome to catch up, but please don’t feel as if you’re obliged.
I’m going do my best to make this account self-contained; with any
luck it will be readable on its own. I’m also going to be more
explicit than I’ve been before because I have reached the point
where I started to really enjoy sex.
Not that I
didn’t enjoy it from the off, of course. I certainly did. It’s
just that it got even better as I found the spirit of adventure
then; a few more words about me and I’ll begin. These days I’m
twenty-six and the proud owner of a lesbian gold star. While I have
been compared to Velma from Scooby Doo, I also get mistaken
for a bloke more regularly than I would like. That has a lot to do
with me having very short hair, an ironing board for a chest and
being commonly known as “Dave”.
fashion sense probably doesn’t help. I’m only comfortable in
Docs, jeans and sweatshirts. It’s a rare day when I wear anything
else and I haven’t been seen in a dress since primary school.
I must be
doing something right though. I’ve had girlfriends aplenty.
of which, let’s go back to the first weekend of November, 2008 . .
Sara got quite touchy when she found out I was housesitting
with Ellie on Saturday as well as Friday. I very reasonably pointed
out that her parents weren’t back until Sunday and that it would
seem odd if I didn’t go the full mile . . . just as I had when
Sara’s parents were away.
frowned and scrunched up her nose but in the end had to agree I had a
point. I just gave her my best attempt at a Mona Lisa smile and left
it at that.
I was full of admiration for Ellie. I’d challenged her to get us
one night together and how had she responded? By dramatically
overachieving, that’s how. You bet I was up for two nights with
her. I would have stayed a whole week if she’d managed to wangle
wasn’t so much touchy as suspicious. She hardly knew Ellie and
believed I was in love with Sara (which I was, but not
unconditionally). I had to patiently explain that Ellie’d had more
boyfriends than hot dinners and that I was effectively on guard duty.
mum doesn’t want the house full of strange men,’ I told her. ‘She
trusts me to keep all of them at bay.’
as Sara’s okay with it,’ she said finally.
just fine,’ I assured her. ‘She won’t miss me at all.’
I reckoned on Friday evening, a more accurate assertion than I’d
thought. The eighteenth that night was at Oakwood Hall, not so very
far from Sara’s home or mine. Not that we accompanied each other.
Oh no, not that night. I did suggest meeting up first but she
with your date,’ she told me. ‘And I might just surprise you.’
She did as
well. When I arrived with Ellie, Jacqui and Roberta, Sara was already
there on the dance floor, brazenly strutting her stuff with the
captain of the football team . . . no, with the very male
captain of the football team.
dressed for the occasion too. I watched her a while, wondering how
she’d poured herself into that slinky silver affair and if bits of
her were going to pop out. Her dancing was, you see, energetic to say
the least. Not that I was wishing a wardrobe malfunction on her.
and Ray, eh,’ said Jacqui. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
not to think about it for the rest of the party but did notice the
two of them from time to time. And they were first back onto the
dance floor when the music slowed. They even got there before Ellie
knowing whispers must whizzing about here, there and everywhere, I
let Ellie take the lead and banished Sara and Ray to the Siberian
quarter of my brain.
I crowed as I slammed a thick iron door on them, enjoy the salt
mines. I’m going to get laid.
as thick-skinned as me. Ignoring countless curious glances, we danced
closer than close, our groins pressing tight as we shared
she whispered into my ear. ‘I can’t believe it’s going to
all yours,’ I whispered back.
wasn’t due to end until midnight but by eleven we could wait no
longer. Not bothering to say any goodbyes we left and walked the few
hundred yards to Ellie’s house. At that stage of proceedings
Fervent Dave was starting to take over from Logical Dave, partly
because I didn’t want to do logic and was pushing it determinedly
in an open relationship, I reminded myself. And it works both
ways. Sara has every right to go with Ray tonight. Good luck to her.
that I really did banish my number one girl for the duration.
looking forward to this,’ I told Ellie as we neared her garden
gate. ‘I’ve wanted to strip your clothes off and kiss you all
over ever since we met up.’
laughed. ‘It’s me calling the shots, remember?’
then,’ I replied. ‘I can’t wait for you to strip me
and kiss me all over.’
squeezed my hand. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
I’m going to skim through the first couple of hours at Ellie’s.
Suffice to say we went straight up to her room and she did indeed
kiss every last inch of my body. And then I moaned and groaned and
sighed while she went down on me seemingly forever.
Very, very nice!!
was supposed to be her first time with a girl.
heck, I thought, if this is her without any practice; if she
can only improve . . .
taking a timeout, she told me she’d modelled herself on a couple of
guys who’d dared to try oral.
them got close but no cigar,’ she said. ‘I just did it properly,
the way they both should have.’
entwined with her, deciding it would soon be time for me to take a
more active role, I took in the décor. Ellie’s penchant for black
and white carried over to her bedroom. Even the photos on the walls
were monochrome: photos mainly of short-haired blondes, including a
young (and exceptionally hot) Annie Lennox.
was stylish but had an edge to it. Grinning, I wondered if her mum
had noticed the absence of male rock stars and guessed Ellie’s
taste for girls hadn’t just appeared overnight.
should be more like this, I lamented, recalling the PC screens
and lack of any photos at all. I shouldn’t just be functional
and conformist. I should put my stamp on it.
Ellie’s bed was something else! I’d say it was a small double:
nice and cosy for two people and way too big for one person.
she said out of nowhere, the hesitancy in her voice surprising me.
my head and lost myself in her eyes.
If Ellie’s request took me aback the sight of her “toy”
almost knocked me out. I could tell what it was, of course, even
though I was no expert at the time . . . but it wasn’t at all what
I gasped, ‘what is that?’
my beaded glass dildo,’ she replied. ‘Ace, isn’t it?’
in her hand was shaped like a man’s penis but didn’t look like
any dick I’d seen in all those unsolicited pop-ups. It was
jet-black, had a distinct curve on it and consisted of half a dozen
“beads”: five of them spheres of a similar size, the sixth a lot
larger. The overall shape aside, no effort had been spent to make it
And it was
long. I later found out it measured nine inches and wasn’t
exceptionally large. It seemed to be massive right then, however. I
shuddered to think about going . . . well, going inside me.
more like something from a torture chamber,’ I said. ‘Sorry
Ellie, but no way.’
faltered and her eyes went all pleading. ‘You could use it on me,’
she suggested, reversing the proposition of only moments earlier.
imagine even touching it. It might not look like part of a man but it
was definitely designed to act like part of a man, and a big
man at that. I was worried I might struggle to accommodate it. And,
as if that wasn’t enough, I had heard all the horror stories about
tearing and bruising.
more, even if I did the using I was worried about hurting Ellie. I
couldn’t contemplate hurting a fellow female. Never could, never
And I was
still a virgin that way (I still am when it comes to actual men’s
parts; ones made of flesh and blood). Up until then I had been
penetrated by nothing bigger than fingers and tongues. I had, of
course, heard of a woman’s elasticity but I had no genuine grasp of
the concept. Rather naively, I thought Ellie’s natural tightness
would make her as unaccommodating as me.
sorry,’ I repeated woefully.
me then,’ Ellie urged. ‘I’ll use it on myself. Show you how
come up with an argument so I perched on the corner of the bed and
spectated. And as far as spectacles go, it was a good one. My initial
revulsion soon gave way to interest, fascination and a deal of
running commentary helped. At first she gave me random details such
as her toy could be used heated or chilled. And that it felt good
when she slowly rotated it, its curve making the beads stimulate her
“in parts other dildos can’t reach”.
her time in inserting it too. For long enough I supposed she was
content to have just two of the beads easing in and out of her (and
rotating a bit while they were at it). Then she pressed on to three,
four and ultimately all five of the smaller ones, using the largest
one as a handle.
so wonderfully full,’ she assured me, her voice little more than a
gasp. ‘Omigod, I’m cumming!’
stopping though. She kept going a while then astonished me by
changing ends, pressing the largest ball into herself, not
penetrating so deeply, obviously focusing on an area just two or
three inches inside her pussy.
the best,’ she almost wailed. ‘Omigod, omigod . . .’
still vastly in awe of the dildo but knew when my input was needed.
Moving up the bed like a stalking leopard I waited over her, letting
the latest contractions subside before tugging her hand away, taking
the toy with it. Then I buried my face in her.
haven’t mentioned this before, but I have feelings for every woman
I’ve had sex with. And I am determined that, even when I’m
kissing, telling and naming names, I am not going to do comparisons.
In my little world comparisons are a big no-no. How childish is it to
claim that Lover A can French kiss even better than Lover B, but
Lover C is superior at sixty-nine?
childish, that’s how!
said I have to observe that, fresh from the large end of her dildo,
Ellie was wetter than any other girl I’ve ever known. That includes
Ellie herself, by the way. She set records that night; personal and
So did I
in eating her. The more she yelled and cried out, the hungrier I got.
was ace. I must have enjoyed myself more sometime since, but don’t
ask me when that was. My head’s too full of specific memories right
now; memories of her and what I’d just witnessed.
I woke at maybe nine Saturday morning. At some stage we’d gone
under the zebra-striped duvet but by then it was halfway onto the
floor. Ellie was still snoozing on her side, facing me, her legs and
awake?’ I asked in my softest whisper.
I let my
thoughts wander as I stared at her relaxed face. The sex had been
great but I was very much aware that I’d chickened. So much for
that spirit of adventure of mine! Ellie had raised the bar and I’d
been found wanting.
And it had
looked to be such fun. She hadn’t been in the least violent with
herself; she’d been gentle and tender, coaxing the orgasms, not
forcing them in any way.
sure how well it has come across up to this point but I am quite
competitive. All that swotting I did was so I would be the best I
could be, which was usually the best in town. When I went climbing I
was always nagging to try harder ascents. When I went walking I was
the one who wanted to tackle just one more hill . . .
wasn’t in my nature. And, although I was legally virgo intacta,
I’d always struggled to find my hymen. To be brutally honest I
don’t think I ever had one. Or maybe I did and lost it through all
of my youthful exercise.
words, I gradually convinced myself I didn’t have anything to
physically tear and that I had to be just as elastic as the next
myself, I rubbed my snub of a nose against Ellie’s dainty straight
one. She stirred but did not open her eyes so I did it again. That
time she chuckled and regarded me with those startling peepers.
that time already?’ she asked, stifling a (probably feigned) yawn.
not time to get up,’ I replied. ‘It’s time for me to woman up.’
Call me a spoilsport but I’m only going to give abbreviated
details about my Saturday with Ellie. I don’t want to be
repetitive, you see. I also want to move on to new adventures. So
hour or two Ellie made love to me with her toy. Sheathing it with
condoms because “I didn’t put it in the wash last night” she
soon overcame the last of my fears. Yes, all of that endless yelling
and shrieking I did had no connection to pain at all.
I could not have had a finer teacher. If she’d been gentle and
tender with herself then she was gentler and tenderer with me. She
didn’t have to do much coaxing of orgasms, though. I started almost
immediately and came at regular (embarrassingly short!) intervals
it was just one continuous, glorious cum.
we showered and breakfasted together, during which time it turned
eleven o’clock. Smiling at me, Ellie suggested beers in the
Suburban. Leering at her, I suggested she taught me how to best use a
dildo on her.
thankfully, she decided back to bed was the healthier option.
we spent all day pleasuring each other with toys. No, we pleasured
each other in all sorts of varied ways. We even passed whole hours
doing nothing more than kissing and stroking innocent bits of body:
arms, legs, backs . . . you get my drift.
aside, kissing and stroking is ridiculously underrated if you ask me.
Anyone who classes them as merely foreplay is missing out
We got up
again around five-ish, showered and got ready for the Saturday night
party. The problem of an evening meal was solved by Park Road
Fisheries, who readily sold us fish and chips to eat out of the
A blink of
an eye later the party was over and, forgoing the late pubs, we were
back in Ellie’s bed.
It was, we
agreed next day, a weekend to remember. And it’s one I marked in my
diary with a very big green tick and a couple of red circles. Thanks
to Ellie I’d found a new avenue of fun, you see. Ever since then I
have had a thing for dildos and there’s no sign of the novelty
sign at all.
Sunday morning always seems appropriate for a lie-in but we didn’t
linger. Well, we didn’t linger very long, anyway. Ellie’s parents
were due back and she suspected her Dad would make sure they were
home in time for the first televised football match.
Scum United,’ she told me, using a local term for certain
Lancashire rivals. ‘He reckons he hates them but he always watches
when they’re on. And it’s a half-twelve kick off.’
Sara’s text while we were preparing a deliciously calorific fry-up.
She wanted to see me in the Suburban as soon as possible. As there
was no mention of meeting on the way I assumed it was Confrontation
corrected myself. Last week it had been a confession, not a
confrontation. Not that I could be so lucky a second time.
Sara back without mentioning the exchange to Ellie.
“CU @ 3”
I took care to arrive early. That time I was the one waiting for Sara
with an opened bottle of Pinot and a couple of glasses, one of them
already filled and half-drained.
there?’ she asked, indicating the elevated seating area.
and led the way, not fancying downstairs with all the football fans
changing shifts in-between games.
she began when we were sat with full glasses. ‘Did you have a good
time at Ellie’s?’
again, not liking her overly-cheerful front.
as sexy as she looks?’ Sara persisted.
a good time,’ I conceded. ‘But I’m not going into detail. You
wouldn’t like it if I went into detail about you, would you?’
laughed and sipped wine. ‘Everyone’s talking about us, you know?
They think we’ve split and I’m now with Ray. And that you are
with Ellie, of course.’
will have a shock tomorrow, then,’ I replied, ‘unless you really
are with Ray.’
that rider because she had noticeably been “with” him on Saturday
as well as Friday night.)
shagged me,’ Sara said, blushing. ‘And I’ve shagged him . . .
more than once.’
pretend I was surprised. Well, I was a little surprised about the use
of “shagged”; usually Sara was as anti-swearing as I was. There
were a lot of worse words she could have used, though, weren’t
there? And the actual confession was hardly earth-shattering.
assumed you would have,’ I said coolly. ‘Was it good for you?’
you and Ray an item?’
she assured me, ‘but I would like to upgrade him to my bit on the
It was my
turn to laugh and sip wine. ‘Poor old Alan,’ I said, ‘one night
of sin and ditched already.’
a long time until Easter.’ Sara blushed again. ‘And a bit on the
side living over two hundred and fifty miles away isn’t much use,
when you’ve obviously found a use for men,’ I said tartly.
So, purely by chance, I avoided confrontation a second time. We
amended our agreement in that we remained number one for each other
and Ray usurped poor old Alan. Otherwise Ellie was confirmed as my
official bit on the side and we both remained free to have one-off
either of us indulged in flings. For the next five or six weeks we
concentrated mostly on each other, taking advantage of our mothers’
decision to let us “overnight together” on “one or two nights a
days aside, my diary isn’t very extensive, but I would guess we
overnighted ten times in that month and a bit. As far as the
extra-curricular stuff went I (sadly!) only had outdoor sex with
Ellie twice and Sara admitted to having sex in Ray’s mum’s car
three times. And as I just said, one-offs simply didn’t happen.
December the twelfth came around and it was time for the Sixth Form
Christmas Party . . .
We’d been relatively good little girls for a while so Sara
and I decided to go to the big bash separately. That is to say she
went with Ray and, seeing as Ellie had set up a date with a sporty
guy called Fran, I went alone.
sad about that, by the way. I had no intention of being Billy No
Mates. Oh no, my intentions were unspecific but I had mischief in
news was that the Sixth Form Christmas Party was legendary and simply
everyone went to it. The bad news was that it was held in our
common room and, being on school premises with some of the attendees
aged seventeen or less, alcohol was verboten. We got round this by
setting out earlier than usual and hitting the pubs down Main Street.
All of them. And, needless to report, plans were in place to hit them
all again later, on our way back up.
how I found myself sipping Diet Pepsi at quarter to eight, listening
to Noddy Holder yelling as loud as ever, “IT’S CHRISTMAAAAS!!’
and playing gooseberry to Jacqui and Roberta.
them,’ Roberta said sniffily. ‘Aren’t they pathetic?’
puzzled glances with Jacqui.
not with you,’ Jacqui said. ‘Who’s being pathetic?’
guys going round collecting Christmas kisses,’ said Roberta. ‘And
the girls loitering near those bunches of mistletoe aren’t any
better. Desperate or what?’
described Roberta yet so here’s a snapshot. Most of my circle were
ex-fifth form basketball players and consequently tall. At five-three
Roberta was a bit of a shrimp but her figure was stunning and her
tits could win prizes.
friends had knockout tits! How unfair was that!!)
had a lovely ass too, but it was her face you noticed first; her face
and her complexion. I had met her parents (a pale guy with ginger
hair and a good-looking honey blonde with lovely brown eyes) and
somehow they’d produced a compact Sophia Loren. There must have
been some Mediterranean ancestry in one of their families, and I
suppose Roberta was a throwback.
flipping heck, she was hot.
at her closely and suddenly my mouth was doing its automatic speaking
trick again. ‘I hope I don’t seem pathetic,’ it said, ‘but
I’m ready to collect my Christmas kiss off you.’
was the self-confidence in my words but Roberta didn’t hesitate.
She didn’t look for approval from Jacqui, either. She simply
stepped forward and offered up her mouth.
Christmas, it was fireworks time. I’m not going to wax lyrical
about all the sensations that I had; let’s just say she was an
excellent kisser and preferred it passionate and steamy.
Dave timed that kiss by music: the tail-end of Merry Xmas
Everybody, all of I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day
and well into Mary’s Boy Child.
pathetic about that,’ Roberta said as we eventually broke for air.
desperately trying to contain Fervent Dave, who had designs on her
ass, tits and God only knew what else.
nice,’ I managed feebly.
get one?’ Jacqui enquired.
it would have been rude not to. So we snogged through Last
Christmas, Do They Know It’s Christmas and only stopped
when Lonely This Christmas began.
and I might do something you’d regret,’ she said, grinning at me.
rather doubt that,’ I countered, returning her grin.
the two of them together (wishing one of them wasn’t there), I
headed towards the “dry” bar, doing a mental toss-up. It was
heads and a mild cold had kept Jacqui at home. Tails and Roberta had
been kept away by a twenty-four hour bug . . .
idea struck me smack between the eyes. If the guys could go round
randomly collecting as many Christmas kisses as possible, why
point I am going to enlarge a little. Sara and I were the first
lesbians to go public. In our school year, I mean. Ellie had been
next, closely followed by Jacqui and Roberta and a smattering of
others. The reaction of our contemporaries was, quite frankly,
amazingly positive. Oh I’m sure some dimwits slagged us behind our
backs, but the vast majority couldn’t have been more supportive.
had all sorts of individual approaches from girls asking scores of
different questions, some of them deep and intelligent. But, opening
gambits played, they all wanted to know the same one thing:
it like having sex with a fellow female?”
early days I tried to answer objectively. Heck, I even tried to
describe feelings and emotions. As time passed and my experience
grew, however, I became cocky and flirty. “Fancy a demo?” I’d
reply. Or, “I’m game to show you how.” Now this was to
supposedly straight girls, you understand. And I had not got my face
slapped even once.
shouldn’t I chance my arm?
what was the worst that could happen? They couldn’t kill me
for it, could they?
It was over an hour before I finally bought my second Pepsi and leant
against the bar, taking stock. By then I had made at least a dozen
approaches and still hadn’t been smacked. I had had some sort of a
kiss on all occasions too, so if I counted a brief brush of lips, I
could claim a hundred per cent success rate.
at that. I’d targeted straight girls only, casting around until I
saw someone who was at least momentarily on her own. And then I’d
pounced, playing the confidence card, not asking for a kiss but
announcing I was “collecting my kiss”. Reactions had been varied
but every last one seemed to think I was only claiming what I was
of them had been more forthcoming than others.
spread as I swigged Cola and realized I’d left a greasy imprint on
many different transfers of lippy have there been tonight, I
counted girls prepared to snog for at least one of the DJ’s records
I reckoned my rate to be around seventy-five per cent. And if I
counted use of tongues, it would have been maybe fifty. Okay, so some
of those straight girls had flinched at the use of tongue, but none
of them had gone storming off. I had taken that as tacit consent.
took it to be very encouraging indeed.
have used handbags so had to tug a hanky out of my front pocket. A
swift examination of the tissue confirmed I’d acquired a blend of
at least ten lipstick shades. Not that the combination would win any
awards. Even in the iffy light of the disco I could see it wasn’t
going to give frosted apricot too many sleepless nights.
I had another swig of pop. My mirror-less wiping must have achieved
because the rim of the can was now unmarked.
mentioned my little red devil, have I? I believe everyone has one but
mine is as persistent as heck. He perches on my left shoulder (the
one my lovers seem to love to chew) and whispers all sorts of
nonsense into my ear.
rounds again,” he said wickedly. “You know there are curious
straight girls out there, wishing you’d try them a second time. And
who knows what they might try if you do!”
that as sound advice, I was trying to decide who to go for first. The
permissive tongue girls seemed to be as good an option as any . . .
or maybe the song-long kissers. Or perhaps some of the lip-brushers
might have reconsidered and seen sense . . .
Then I saw
Lorna was, with the exception of Miss Williams, by far the
school’s sexiest creature. She was my sort of height (five-eight)
with a body to die for and tits that preceded her by a mile. And she
was nice with it; not “up herself” at all.
also half of the school’s dream couple. I guess in America she
would have been the state’s most prominent cheerleader and her
boyfriend would have been the all-star quarterback. In Bingley she
was just stunningly gorgeous and her boyfriend captained the rugby
aware I earlier spurned “comparisons” but to heck with that; I’m
going to make one. Ray, Sara’s new bit on the side, was about six
foot, very well-built and as athletic as anyone could ask. His good
looks and short blond hair attracted girls like flies round
contrast Lorna’s guy, Steve, was six-four. His shoulders were wider
than a double-decker bus and he must have weighed fourteen or fifteen
stones without carrying an ounce of fat. Sporting opponents broke out
in bumps and bruises just looking at him. I’m not a big fan of
he-man blokes but, if I was in a bar and a fight erupted, I’d make
sure I was on his side every time.
Steve made muscleman Ray look like the guy who'd get sand kicked in
suddenly he wasn’t there.
get me wrong, there were rarer sights than Lorna without Steve by her
side. The Fab Four doing a 2008 reunion gig on the studio rooftop,
perhaps; or maybe Lord Lucan riding Shergar to his second Derby win.
anyone who isn’t British or Irish, read JFK playing Khrushchev,
best out of fifty-one at chess, live from Uranus!)
did/does sometime behave like my mouth and go off unprompted. It did
back then, seeing Lorna on her lonesome.
I said, arriving at the edge of the dance floor unannounced, ‘fancy
seeing you all forlorn. Where’s Steve?’
out the back.’ The stunner rolled her eyes. ‘Apparently they need
to do some work on their set lineout for tomorrow.’
that leaves you free to give me my Christmas kiss,’ I countered.
wasn’t only tits, blonde hair and beauty; she had a real presence
about her. I must admit my bravado was forced more with her than with
all that night’s other approaches put together.
needn’t have worried.
you’d never ask,’ she said before launching herself at me.
What can I say, eh? Me and beautiful women! I can’t pretend it
works every time but I have been blessed with more luck than I
deserve. Me, a plain girl who looks like one of Scooby’s sidekicks
. . . and not the blatantly sexy one at that!
philosophical, I reckon my boyish looks have a universal appeal.
Straight girls like boys, yeah? So do bisexual girls. And okay, so
perhaps fellow lezzies can be a bit pickier, but a lot seem to prefer
butch to femme . . .
the whys and wherefores. Lorna snogged me like her life depended on
it and you can bet I snogged her right back. Don’t ask how long or
how hot. She went way beyond one or two DJ’s discs, up to five or
six . . . at least. As for hot . . .
volcanoes, baby; think a trip to the molten centre of the Earth. See
where I’m coming from?
regretfully, we parted.
will be back,’ she said, gasping for breath. ‘Steve will be back
any minute and I don’t have your number. Give it to me right now,
I may be
an IT nerd but I knew how that social convention worked. I recited my
number even as I got my mobile out. Lorna entered it as I recited and
dialled as soon as I’d finished.
she said, saving the details.
you,’ I replied, doing likewise.
me,’ she said, looking around, passing her urgency on, infecting me
with it. ‘Ring me later, when we’re both in bed.’
not,’ said my mouth, ‘I’m your gal.’
you are.’ She laughed shortly. ‘I guess you’re out for drinks
a distinct possibility,’ I admitted.
I, but I’ll declare an early night. How does one o’clock sound?’
me you’ll be in bed.’
. . . Oh crap; here’s Steve.’
two rugby cronies with him. He was grinning and slapping folk on the
back as he came (no doubt inadvertently breaking bones and
dislocating limbs as he did so).
sorted,’ he said to Lorna. Then, beaming at me, ‘Hi Dave; you’re
wouldn’t receive at three if I were you,’ I replied. ‘I’d
stay at three and receive at five.’
face had been in the wars over his eighteen years. It had permanent
lumps in it and his nose must have been broken three times, if not
more. He was ruggedly attractive, though, even I could see that. At
my words his manly brow creased into a scowl.
you been discussing our tactics?’ he asked Lorna.-
laughed. ‘Do I look like someone who knows what “receive at
back to me. ‘Dave . . .’
at three and take it at five,’ I said cheerily. ‘Bye . . .’
Back at the dry bar I bought yet another can and wondered what to do
next. It was barely half-nine and I was nowhere near pulling. And, of
course, I now had Lorna to call at one.
at the prospect. Up until then I’d had very little phone sex . . .
and that was what I hoped and expected to have with Lorna. Something
along the lines of the late-night calls I’d had with Ellie on
about Ellie . . .
around without spotting her and concluded she must have gone
somewhere a bit more private, to give Fran his “Chrissie present”.
It was my turn to scowl. I hadn’t been to bed with my favourite
blonde bombshell since our housesitting adventure; our more recent
sex had been regrettably dildo-free.
could I have done with that dildo right then!
Ellie (and her toy) out of my head and resumed brooding. One o’clock
was ages away. And my inclination to do the rounds again was gone. It
seemed like too much hard work and I had that call to come anyway.
Why waste the effort? Why not go to The Old White Horse instead?
the party early and alone wasn’t a concept that fazed me. It was a
Main Street pub in Bingley, not The Bucket of Blood in Tortuga. Okay,
it was Friday night, but even so . . .
Then I had
another “I saw her” moment.
Meryl was as close as we got to an outcast in our tight-knit
sixth form community. In all honesty she didn’t do herself any
favours. She was a bright enough student but had no social skills at
all. In fact she went out of her way to be rude to folk (or so it
seemed) and answered friendly approaches with grunts and
monosyllables. If ever there was a born loner, it was her.
So why was
I struck by the sight of her, you may ask. Well, for one thing it was
the first time I’d seen her at any sort of party. And for another
she looked . . . different.
Meryl dressed in a similar way to me and kept her medium-length hair
tied back in a severe ponytail. That night she’d pushed the boat
well out. Her usual ragged-kneed jeans had been replaced by a
brand-new pair in very dark blue. Her trainers had given way to black
leather ankle boots and, instead of a sweatshirt, she was wearing
what looked to be the waistcoat of a man’s three-piece suit.
that waistcoat a lot. It was jet-black, the front unreflective
material and the back something silky and shiny. Best of all it left
her arms bare, exposing lots of hitherto unsuspected tattoos: a full
sleeve on her upper left and a fair old smattering of ink on her
ditched the ponytail too, letting her hair frame her face in a spiky
sort of a way.
form Meryl was there alone. She was sitting on a double chair in a
clutter of furniture that had been pushed aside to make room for
dancing. I was as sure as I could be that nobody was supposed to be
sitting where she was, but I was not at all surprised. The girl
wasn’t just alone in a crowd; she’d gone and cast herself away on
a desert island amid the crowd.
don’t assume I felt sorry for her. I did, but only a teeny-weeny
bit. No, my primary feeling was one of intense lust. I hadn’t
previously considered her sexually but just then, with her edgy black
hair and mostly black wardrobe . . .
mention those F-me boots!
blood-red lips were eminently kissable. Mmmm, yum, yum!
I saw her
as a challenge too; I freely admit that. There she was, sexy,
abrasive and unsociable. And there I was, unexpectedly drooling over
night for me to think was to act. Without rationally considering what
I was doing, I clambered my way through the pushed-aside chairs and
tables and said hi.
she replied, not sparing me a glance, continuing to stare out over
the dance floor but not seeming to be watching anyone in particular.
I join you?’ I asked cheerily.
grunted so I took a seat beside her, taking care to get as close as I
glad to see you here,’ I went on, expecting another grunt in
Meryl looked at me. ‘Am I next on your kiss list, or are you just
taking the piss?’
the kiss list,’ said my automatic mouth.
get it, then.’
wasn’t going to say no, was I? Thinking I would be the cool,
super-experienced one, I leant in and . . .
Meryl blew me away. How good was she? How good and how exceptionally
passionate? She had me instantly reeling. Then, after maybe thirty
seconds, she eased off. I almost wept but there was no need. Rather
than backing away she suddenly switched the intensity up by times
time: that change of gear was too much for me. I came instantaneously
and had to hang on to her to keep myself upright.
a lesser mortal would have swooned like a Jane Austen heroine.
she kissed me. I endured it like a good ‘un, feeling myself
building and building. Then, when I was closing in on cum number two,
she abruptly stopped.
Xmas,’ she said (pronouncing it Exe Mass), and abruptly
turned back to the dancing.
It took me
a while to steady myself and get some air back in my lungs.
Eventually, having no intention of being summarily dismissed, I tried
a heck of a good kisser, Meryl. Where did you learn to do that?’
reply; not even a grunt.
mean it,’ I persisted, ‘I could get accustomed to kisses from
still here?’ she said without looking my way.
I am. I’m staying here until they kick us out.’
not an easy leg-over,’ she announced, surprising me with her
bluntness (although God Himself only knows why; “Bluntness” was
her middle name).
again and I will be,’ I countered. ‘I’ll be an easy leg-over, I
mean. Kiss me like that and I’ll let you do anything you want.’
I tried a new tack. ‘Are you going to Ralph’s eighteenth
Now I did
feel sorry for her. I had invited everyone to my eighteenth and took
it for granted everyone else did likewise. But Ralph evidently
hadn’t. And maybe there was a reason Meryl was rarely seen out and
about. Maybe she’d been blacklisted and I didn’t know it.
invite is for “Dave and guest”,’ I said inventively. ‘Come as
her attention. Peering at me through her sharp, dark brown eyes she
said, ‘Like I was your girlfriend for the night?’
Exactly like that.’
for the leg-over.’ Her laugh was bitter and abrupt.
Meryl,’ I almost begged. ‘Give me a break. I’m asking you on a
date because I want to get to know you. And yes, I’d like to have
sex with you, but not at any price. I won’t even touch you unless
you want me to. And you can do all the touching, if that’s what you
She took a
moment or two to absorb that.
want to be my friend,’ she said at last. ‘And I get to decide how
friendly we are.’
nutshell,’ I agreed.
another brief consider then came out with: ‘Say that’s a
thoughtfully before saying, ‘Okay.’
you,’ I gushed. Then, chancing my arm, ‘What about tonight? Can I
buy you a drink on the way home?’
be in by eleven. Sorry.’
o’clock on a night like tonight!’ I was shocked and couldn’t
Mum the party ends at ten thirty and I’d be in by eleven. If I’d
said twelve she’d have been okay with it, but I didn’t. So it’s
like a promise, see? I never break promises or try to change them at
the last minute, so I can’t even ring and ask for an extension.’
far and away the longest speech I’d ever heard Meryl say. By her
standards it was up there beside the Gettysburg Address.
I know Abe only spoke for a couple of minutes.)
know me and how I tend to be with promises. I could dig that. ‘Let’s
leave now,’ I said after checking the time. ‘You live in Poplar
House, don’t you? We can grab a couple of drinks and be there for
she said again.
then, let’s say our farewells and be off.’
none to say. I’ll see you outside.’
My farewells weren’t much more extensive than Meryl’s. One
quick cast about the dance floor found Sara and Ray. By then the slow
songs had started and it would have been an intrusion to part them.
Ellie and Fran were scarcer still; I (probably correctly) guessed
that Fran was getting something for the New Year as well as a Happy
Christmas. And Jacqui and Roberta were seated with tongues quite
clearly down each other’s throats.
more not to be parted, I wisely decided.
about to split when I spotted Lorna and Steve, sexy-dancing. Lorna
had her head on Steve’s so-very broad shoulders but sensed me
looking her way. She glanced up and raised a hand in a wave.
my own hand and wiggled my fingers in goodbye sort of a way.
responded by closing her fist and raising her middle finger . . . but
not at all offensively. She was not giving me the finger; she was
giving me a reminder.
my fist and raised my middle finger in reply, signalling I hadn’t
I had assumed that by “outside” Meryl meant the cloakrooms.
Consequently I had a moment of panic when she wasn’t where I’d
expected. Grabbing my short leather jacket I hurried to the real
outside . . . and drew in a big breath of relief.
out there, wearing a black hooded cape contraption. On anyone else it
would have seemed bizarre. On her it was ace. It even had a blood-red
lining to go with her lips. She reminded me of those babes in
Scottish Widows adverts and my self-lubrication was faster than fast.
Not that I
was lusting over TV ads, you understand. Why should I do when I had a
real-life babe within my grasp?
to flatter,’ I said, ‘but how hot are you?’
hot,’ she countered, surprising me yet again. ‘Shall we get under
obviously didn’t intend to take my hand so I took hers. When she
flinched I squeezed and . . . one heart-stopping second later . . .
she squeezed back.
It was a
bit of a trek from the sixth form block down to the Keighley/Bradford
road. Meryl seemed to be happy do it in silence but I’ve never done
silences well myself.
me,’ I said after perhaps fifty yards, ‘where do you go? When
you’re out of a night, not getting home before midnight, I mean.’
she replied, back in monosyllabic mode.
sort of gigs?’
sort of rock?’
first time Meryl smiled at me. And don’t ask me if she looked good
for it. Put it this way, I could not contain that second cum any
all rock,’ she said in blissful ignorance of the state of my
knickers, ‘particularly glam and punk, hard and progressive.’
another look at her hair then I noted the eyeliner and finally
twigged: ‘Joan Jett, circa 1980!’ I exclaimed.
that,’ she said, her language making me wince. ‘I saw her only
last year, touring with Motorhead and Alice Cooper. Imagine that!
Lemmy, Alice and Joan one after another!! I was masturbating for
weeks afterwards.’ She laughed. ‘Lemmy and Alice even got the odd
still looks okay, then,’ I ventured.
but how she looks hardly matters. It’s her, isn’t it? I’d
give her the leg-over without hesitation, no matter whether she was
twenty or two hundred.’
I said, somewhat diplomatically.
aiming to move the conversation on: ‘Do you do local gigs?’
George’s Hall is my second home. They only seem to get tribute
bands nowadays, though, so I do a lot of Manchester and Leeds. And
would you believe it! Suzi Q once did Myrtle Park! If I’d been born
a few years earlier I’d have been there to kiss her feet.’
heard of all these rock stars but was beginning to feel out of my
depth. My toes were scraping on the tiled pool bottom. To be
completely honest, I’d excelled myself with Joan Jett. Yeah, I knew
Suzi Q by sight and guessed that Alice was that creepy guy who bit
the heads off chickens. I was a lot surer about Lemmy. He drank a
bottle of Jack Daniels a day and made my mum look like a teetotaller.
my sort of a guy, if I ever did guys.
As we hit
the high road and turned towards town I changed subject. ‘Ralph’s
party,’ I said. ‘I’m looking at it as a proper date. You do
like girls, don’t you?’
I do. That’s why I jack off over the Queen of Rock ‘n’ Roll.’
she’s Leather Forever. Not that I don’t jack off over her too.’
you prefer?’ I added cautiously. ‘I mean when you’re with a
girl and . . .’
yeah,’ she said, cutting me off. ‘I know what you mean. I guess I
prefer a bit of both. Not that I’m madly experienced, you
By then we
were approaching the Shama and the curry smells were out of this
world. ‘Fancy a quick vindaloo?’ I enquired.
bring your own booze,’ she said, ‘and it’s too late to stock
up. We haven’t time.’
by her increasingly long replies, I tugged her to a halt. ‘Okay,’
I said, fancy another kiss instead?’
certainty in her answer took me aback. ‘No,’ I echoed.
here.’ She jabbed her thumb to our right, indicating the parish
church. ‘Let’s go somewhere more secluded.’
sure if she was objecting on religious grounds but “somewhere more
secluded” sounded good to me. We walked on, passing inviting pub
after inviting pub, never breaking our stride.
a giver, I told myself. She’s definitely a giver and I’ll
take all she’s got. One more kiss and I’m hers.
more kiss and I won’t have a say in the matter.
“Poplar House” might sound like a tower block but it’s
actually a grid of terraced houses, most of them built in Victoria’s
last few years. Being obliging, letting Meryl tug me past the last
Main Street watering hole (Wetherspoons), we turned into the network
of streets and backstreets. Picking one seemingly at random, she led
me halfway down and took a left into a ginnel separating two tall
thought here would do,’ she said.
she was right. The ginnel was theoretically wide enough for a small
car but so overgrown it was only passable on foot. Meryl was
indicating a bit of house-end next to a would-be tree. The street we
had just left was narrow; the sort that was seldom used by day and
never at night. The street ahead of us was wider but un-adopted (else
the Luftwaffe hadn’t stopped strafing it yet). It too seemed to be
seldom used and we would be screened from it by the tree, anyway.
perfect,’ I said.
then, come and get what you’re hankering after,’ she replied,
putting her back to the wall and holding out her arms.
I went to
her with alacrity, chuckling when she enveloped us both with her
cloak before nearly passing out when she kissed me more passionately
expected intimate touch didn’t materialize. That is to say she
didn’t touch me sexually. No, she contented herself by gripping my
bum and pulling our bodies tight together. Then, when I was starting
to wonder what was keeping her, she took my hand and drew to her
I decided, if that’s the way she wants it . . .
kissing, senses swimming, I gently squeezed. And then, emboldened,
satisfied she’d given me a green light I undid a few waistcoat
buttons and let her spill out.
did spill out more than I ever could. In reality her tits weren’t
so large. They were, however, very shapely and her nipples were hard
enough to cut glass.
do not know how long I mauled her against that wall. I recall the
urge to nibble and chew on her was massive. I also recall that my
mouth was too busy with hers to be side-tracked. And, best of all, I
recall her taking my hand again and leading it to her groin.
were the sort with brass buttons instead of a zip. My fingers
trembled as I unfastened them, and then trembled some more when she
tugged them partway down.
our kiss for a nanosecond, she breathed one word: ‘Yes.’
no urging. Dipping into her flimsy, damp panties I had a feel,
finding very short, presumably trimmed hair and a very prominent
clitoral hood. Well-practiced at that particular activity, grateful
I’d been given extra room to manoeuvre, I set to work.
Meryl’s kissing shot off the top end of the passionate scale.
minutes is all it took: two and a half on her hood and thirty seconds
on her actual clit. And there was no question of her faking it. I
could feel the mighty orgasm rushing through her; it was impossible
to miss. So too was the bite of her teeth into that yummy left
shoulder of mine.
woman of the world I assumed she’d want more, so I simply kept
going. She held back better that second time, lasting more like
quarter of an hour. Her cum was stronger though, much stronger. The
first one might have made the earth move for her but that second one
was more like an asteroid impact.
didn’t she cum hard!
little penetration was in order I ran my fingers along her slit and .
flipping phone rang!!
my ten minute warning,’ she gasped pushing me away.
my mobile as she fastened herself back up. It was indeed ten to
still on for tomorrow?’ she asked. ‘Or have you had what you
a must,’ I assured her.
Sara going to say when I show up on your arm?’
sort Sara,’ I said, adding silently, somehow.
Heroically forgoing the pubs and clubs I went home, shut myself away
in my room and masturbated for at least an hour. What a night I had
just had! Summoning images to help me on my way was not a problem.
Neither was rolling on from one climax to the next.
sexuality was fully awake by then, you see; my sexuality and an
At ten to
one the alarm on my mobile rang. Grinning, I congratulated myself on
learning from Meryl. It was a good trick that alarm-setting. It’s
one I use to this day.
or not, that ten minute hiatus was uneasy for me. Still convinced
phone sex was imminent, I felt guilty. How could I jump for one fling
to another in a matter of minutes? And how come I could agree to date
Meryl for two nights in a row? Flings were supposed to be one-offs,
weren’t they? I had to be cheating all of womankind as well as just
Not that I
considered dodging the call to Lorna. I’d promised, therefore it
had to happen.
I’d promised Meryl a date; logically that had to happen too.
Lorna’s number with minutes to spare then watched the seconds tick
away, pressing Send at one am precisely.
answered midway through the first ring.
or what,’ she said in greeting. ‘I like that in a girl. Are you
I said again, shivering ever so slightly.
from my teddy bear, yes, I’m alone.’
almost a fib; Ted had lived on top of my wardrobe for a few years by
then, watching down on me as I slept and self-abused.)
about you?’ I added.
alone, naked and in bed. And I want to know what you’re doing this
it was Saturday already I answered automatically: ‘Rock climbing.’
climbing into my bed instead?’
notions of guilt, loyalty and betrayal fled from me. ‘Say when and
I’ll be there,’ I told her.
chuckled throatily. ‘One o’clock seems like our lucky time. One
in the afternoon, I mean.’
where you live and I’ll be there on the dot,’ I said. Then,
Logical Dave butting her snub nose in: ‘How’s it going to work?’
parents are visiting relatives in Sheffield. They won’t be back
until seven, at the soonest. Steve’s got his big match, so he’ll
be out of the way as well. We can have three or four hours and nobody
will be any the wiser.’
be there,’ I said yet again.
wet already, just thinking about it.’ Another throaty chuckle.
‘There again, I should be
soaking. I’ve been playing with myself for ages. Are you wet, Dave?
Are you playing with yourself?’
was more like a midnight chat with Ellie! ‘Yes,’ I said, a
fraction of a second after clamping a hand between my legs (so I’d
be telling the truth, understand?). ‘I’m playing and I’m wetter
hear it. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re going to do to
mean before or after I chew your tits?’
Lorna’s sexy laugh was even throatier than her chuckle. ‘Don’t
hurry yourself, though. Take me through it slowly . . .’
I must have spent the best part of an hour ringing around on
Saturday morning. After my mum had woken me with coffee and a gripe
about the weather, that was.
come running to me if you break your neck climbing those rocks,’
she said. ‘The weather’s not fit for ducks.’
call was to Kelly, my main rock climbing buddy (the one whose parents
I also climbed with).
calling it off today,’ she said before I could make my excuses.
case I have a favour to beg,’ I said smoothly. ‘And don’t
worry; I’ll make it worth your while . . .’
call was to Meryl. I liked her but was conscious she was a bit odd.
And a girl didn’t have to be odd to have regrets, did she? I was
afraid she might have changed her mind about Ralph’s. Again I heard
what I wanted to hear without having to ask.