Davina Does Easter
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
Twenty-Seven - Saturday Afternoon with Lorna
Twenty-Eight - Dick’s
Twenty-Nine - Keighley Gate
Thirty - Mmmm Meryl . . .
Thirty-One - A New Deal
Thirty-Two - Val
Thirty-Three - Camping in the Lakes
Thirty-Four - Night School
This is going to be a short intro because by now you either
know me or you don’t. I’m twenty-six, a devout lesbian and I have
a penchant for beautiful girls. By that I mean my ugly mug attracts a
lot of stunners and I’m never capable of saying “no”.
wouldn’t be, would I?
last time I left you rather abruptly, halfway through a sexual
extravaganza of a weekend. In fact I was spending Saturday afternoon
in the Hottest Girl at School’s bed, making her cum and cum and
I know, but somebody had to do it!
waste time with any more background. Let’s just say that, as an
eighteen-year-old in late 2008, I was developing a taste for
“different” and “new” . . . or, in other words, “the more
also get back to me and Lorna, picking up somewhere between two and
three hours after we’d kicked off . . .
Me being a lifelong IT nerd, it feels odd when I take a break
without being aware of the exact time. I live by the display to the
bottom right of my screen. Right then (fresh from a sexual haze) I
was lost. Was it nearer four pm or five? How many minutes did I have
to get home, showered and changed and back out again? And would I
have the seconds to spare to eat “tea”?
that, would there be anything for me to eat? Mum had had reservations
about her only child going rock climbing in torrential rain,
expressing concern about the risk of broken necks. She’d clearly
thought I would end up eating all my future meals through an NG tube.
Would she have even bothered to prepare enough food for stubborn old
hand pulled me out of my reverie, landing on my thigh nice and high
up, close to my groin.
chuckled, glad she’d last done something apart for moan, groan and
orgasm. Not that I’m knocking her in any way. Making her moan,
groan and orgasm had been a simply massive turn on. I wouldn’t
really have minded carrying on like that forever.
much, anyway. Still, having her touching me even innocuously was
I went. ‘Keep going.’
hand brushed my swollen lips, light as a butterfly’s wings, and she
echoed my chuckle.
much will you tell Sara?’
I replied, oh-so articulately.
this afternoon, I mean. Do you really tell her everything you
get up to?’
grown women and jealousy-free,’ I replied with the sincerity of a
girl who had never been badly let down (not yet!). ‘But we don’t
tittle-tattle. What I do without her is my business. So is whatever
she does with Ray. Not that I want to know what she gets up to with
him. Or what you do with Steve, for that matter.’
probably not so jealousy-free,’ Lorna said. ‘And he fancies you.
Don’t get me wrong; inside his head he’s a liberated man. In his
heart he’s a Neanderthal.’
were relatively civilized,’ I said automatically. ‘They just get
bad press.’ Then, frowning: ‘What was that about Steve fancying
like his mates. The whole rugby team wants to get into your knickers.
They’re all scared though. None of them want to be the first to get
shot down in flames.’
I mused on
that a moment. ‘I must be at the back their queue,’ I said
ahead of most of us,’ said Lorna. ‘Trust me, Dave; you have a lot
of men’s hands moving very rapidly every night.’
retching sounds weren’t entirely faked. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m
nobody’s dream girl. And that imagery is making me sick.’
to the club.’ She laughed. ‘What about Ellie? What do you tell
her even less than I tell Sara. And believe you me, Ellie’s hard
work. When it comes to prying for information, she got kicked out of
the Gestapo ages ago. For excess cruelty, I believe.’
can deal with her?’
hand had moved higher; it was cupping my pussy now, not actually
doing anything apart from being warm and cosy.
I gasped, ‘I can deal with both of them.’
said Lorna, beginning to rub.
I declined the offer of a shared shower because somehow it had got to
keep us secret,’ Lorna said before unlocking her front door. ‘I’m
not ashamed or anything, but I want an easy life. And I want us to
keep sneaking around. It adds an edge, don’t you think?’
want to do this again?’ I queried, a little surprised, enormously
I do. I’m missing you already.’
Dave muttered something about flings supposed to be one-offs. I
as you’re jealousy-free I’m your gal,’ I told Lorna, smiling
into her eyes.
right back at me. ‘Jealousy-free and sneakily surreptitious,’ she
said. ‘And what Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?’
but he’ll find out one day. Somebody will twig and he’ll be the
next to know.’
possibility will add to the edge,’ she said, grinning ever-wider.
you naked is edge enough for me,’ I said as convincingly as
possible. ‘But I do know where you’re coming from. As long as
you’re sure he won’t react too badly when he does cotton on.’
die before he even shouted at a woman, so I’ve nothing to fear. And
neither have you. It’s me he’ll be jealous of. You’ll just seem
wish,’ said I. ‘Er . . . when’s the next slot in your diary?’
parents visit Sheffield every third or fourth weekend. And Steve has
rugby all day Saturday at this time of year.’
three or four weeks it is then.’ I offered her my fist.
betcha,’ she agreed, bumping it.
My visit home was, to say the least, a flying one. My hair wet from
the latest heavy fall of rain, I arrived in a flurry and shot up to
the bathroom before I could be interrogated. Then, showered and
dressed in my usual Saturday night clobber, I called in to the
corned beef, potato and onion pie,’ Mum announced (as if the
delicious aromas could’ve been missed!). ‘Have you time to wash
it down with wine?’
fatal falls then?’ Mum asked as I tucked in.
said I, borrowing a tactic from Margaret Thatcher and disregarding
the question altogether. ‘Kelly is calling round tomorrow. I’m
helping her with some IT.’
note: I was actually making sure Kelly got some IT coursework
finished; coursework that only I didn’t seem to be losing sleep
over. It was my way of paying her for being my alibi. As it counted
toward Kelly’s A-level, Mum would have called that sort of help
“cheating” so I didn’t go into the nitty-gritty.)
the . . . ah, mannish one?’ Mum persisted.
the same tastes as me,’ I said patiently. ‘But we’re not an
item or anything. We’re just doing some work together on . . .’
listened for maybe a minute before holding up her hand.
enough! You lost me at the first NAND gate. You do whatever it is you
have to do. At least it’ll keep you out of the pub.’
won’t be at it long,’ said I. ‘I’ll soon explain the bits she
doesn’t properly understand. Then we’ll probably get out of your
hair and go for a drink.’
wine and tried not to smile. ‘You and your love of alcohol! I
honestly don’t know where you get it from.’
Because my mum had old-fashioned values (like believing in
love with - and faithful to - one person at a time), I had arranged
to meet Meryl outside the Spar, taking care to keep out of direct
line of sight of any of the night staff. I got there at 6:28, two
minutes early. Meryl arrived at six-thirty precisely but, as she was
in a fancy SUV, it took me a moment to realize it was her.
I was under the impression her mum was a single parent and had
expected something less flashy, like the aging Mini my own mum ran
around in. Meryl’s Discovery still couldn’t be due its first MOT.
It wasn’t brand-spanking-new but it was seriously impressive.)
No. it was
I said as she leant over and opened the passenger-side door. ‘Ace
you,’ she countered, kissing me quickly before pulling back,
waiting for me to belt myself in. ‘So where to?’
supposed to be taking you out,’ I protested.
me to be the chauffer then. Is Dick’s all right?’
party was in Morton Institute (again!). Dick’s was on the way,
assuming we went via the more scenic route so I said yes, it would do
very proficient in the driving seat, Meryl indicated to move out.
The pub was an ivy-covered building on the fringes of the moor, miles
from anywhere but very, very popular. Back in the day it had catered
for packhorses, stagecoaches and the likes. Judging from the vehicles
on its car park it now mostly catered for yuppies in Mercs and BMWs.
Meryl’s (mum’s) motor didn’t look at all out of place.
when we went inside.
evening and Dick’s was rammed with well-dressed folk, most of them
already dining or about to dine. Not that you should be thinking ball
gowns and tuxedos; it was very much smart/casual with few ties to be
seen and no dicky-bows at all.
eyes fixed on us as we approached the bar. I’d like to think that
my Saturday night clobber passed muster. My blue jeans were as smart
as anyone else’s, my sweatshirt was a fetching if rather pale
yellow and my short leather jacket was practically unbroken-in.
dressed as per Friday, minus the cape. Her F-me boots and
half-unbuttoned waistcoat were black and her tight jeans were
blue-verging-on-black. The only real difference in her that night was
the choice of lippy: dark purple instead of blood-red.
hot, though. Posh women were snarling as their partners visually
gobbled her up.
of her I hadn’t already mentally devoured!
at Meryl as we waited to be served. No doubt about it, she loved the
attention, and why not? At eighteen we were significantly younger
than those well-dressed diners. It was our obligation to look
rebellious, wasn’t it?
So what if
most of the hen-pecked hubbies were ogling my girlfriend’s lovely
little, half-exposed tits? Ogling was as close as they were going to
Me? I had
dirty ones at that!
are you having?’ I asked her.
orange and lemonade,’ she replied, somewhat shattering her
nearest barman sprang into action, not waiting for me to confirm the
order. In a matter of seconds a well-presented glass was on the bar
before us, filled with juice, ice and a slice.
you, sir?’ he said to me.
at him, for once taken aback.
of Black Sheep,’ said Meryl, squeezing my bum, signalling me to
I thrust a
tenner at the frigging bar steward without speaking then, acting like
the guy he took me to be, I crammed my unchecked change into the
front pocket of my jeans.
I thought, quite viciously.
me to one of the few free tables; it was by a large window that faced
south, downhill and towards Bingley.
views are wonderful from here in summer,’ she said.
shortly, still peeved with the barman.
hear what he said to me,’ I asked indignantly, ‘that flipping bar
visually challenged, obviously.’ Meryl’s laugh had much more
humour in it than mine.
I said, momentarily taking off my supersized specs. ‘I’ll give
said Meryl, ‘you wouldn’t be the same without them.’
I shook my
head, clearing it, reminding myself my date was probably nervous and
I had no right to be sniffy.
yourself together, Logical Dave recommended. Forget it ever
happened. And don’t be a grouch. It wasn’t exactly the first
time, was it?
much of a view tonight,’ I said aloud, nodding at the window which
was still rain-lashed from one recent downpour or another.
December,’ Meryl replied. ‘It’s been dark for hours.’
view across this table is much better,’ I countered, sincerely if a
bit gushy and predictable.
notice the back of the Disco?’
said I, thrown by the abrupt change of tack.
Discovery; I’ve put the rear seats down. We’ll have plenty of
room later. Clever me, eh?’
you,’ I agreed, amazed as ever by her bluntness but excited too.
The idea of “plenty of room” equated to “plenty of fun”, and
I was up for that.
a surprise for you,’ she added.
What is it?’
a surprise, so wait and see.’
you been driving long?’ I wondered, speaking to break the ensuing
silence as much as wanting to know.
must have learnt fast.’
Mum got me lessons for my seventeenth. I had them in a crash course.’
sincerely hope we won’t be crashing tonight.’
be crashing about in the back,’ she said, missing my (admittedly
feeble) joke altogether. ‘And I won’t be drinking. I promised Mum
I would never drink and drive and I never will.’
does your mum do?’ I enquired, curious.
manages a big office in Bradford. She’s worked there ever since I
first went to school, getting one promotion after another. She never
has any time off. Well, she did have a week when Dad died, when I was
I hadn’t seen that coming. I’d assumed “Dad” was an absentee,
not in a grave.
an industrial accident,’ Meryl said matter-of-factly, ‘in a
foundry in Keighley. Mum got a mega payout from their insurers . . .
after a bit of a wait, naturally.’
been on her own ever after?’
from me, you mean?’
and said nothing, afraid of putting my foot in it yet again.
Doreen lived with us for years,’ Meryl went on. ‘Of course she
wasn’t really my aunt; really she was the woman who shared Mum’s
bed. Then she got breast cancer and it simply wouldn’t go away. She
died the summer before last. Since then there’s just been the two
swallowed a lump in my throat. My own home life (safe, secure and
with only the danger of being suffocated by love) suddenly seemed
unfair. Anger raged inside my head. Ellie had better not call Meryl
“Miserable” ever again; not unless she wanted a punch on the
Or maybe a
ready for another pint?’ Meryl was on her feet.
I’m taking you out. I’m buying.
get this round,’ she said. ‘That bar steward of a barman keeps
looking our way. He fancies one of us; I want to see which one. I’m
betting he’s gay . . .’
I thought as she went back to the bar, taking a lot of male attention
with her, she was ribbing me! And she was almost subtle with it!!
the last of my pint I (literally) licked my lips. There was even more
to the girl than I’d credited.
Meryl had indeed lowered the back seats in her mum’s Disco .
. . both rows of them.
enough room for a ten-girl orgy,’ I said as she pulled up just
short of Morton Institute.
will do for now,’ she said. ‘If you can get another eight
interested parties we can try it some other night.’
sure how serious she was but chuckled anyway. ‘Call me
old-fashioned, but I’ll be happy with just you.’
stopped up in an approved (I hoped!) parking area outside a terrace
of houses. Meryl proved she was at least slightly nervy by asking me
about our invite.
worries,’ I replied. ‘There won’t be bouncers or girls behind
reception desks at a place like this. There never is. We’ll just
walk straight in.’
saying you haven’t brought it with you?’
out loud at that. I’d checked the invitation that morning. It was
addressed only to “Dave”. But the ink was easily matched. The
card tucked in my wallet now read “Dave and guest”.
got it but like I said, we won’t need it,’ I assured her.
go then.’ She clasped my hand. ‘’If all’s well and I’m not
going to be kicked out on my ass. . .’
I was right about the lack of bouncers, and the closest to
“reception” was a pair of forty-something women sipping from
outsized wine glasses. I guessed they were Ralph’s mum and her
backup but never got to find out which was which. They never got to
find out who we were either. They just met us with smiles and pointed
the way to the bar.
Not that I
didn’t already know!
eighteenths go that was a good ‘un. None of my friends could have
been accused of shunning my date as an outcast and a lot of them were
drooling over her. Take Ellie, for example. She cornered me on my way
out of the ladies’.
fit our what’ she exclaimed. ‘Give her to me when you’re done.
I have sooooo many tricks in store for her.’
thought you had tricks in store for me.’ I replied, somewhat
but tonight I’m seeing Meryl in a whole new light. I really, really
want to screw her.
so it hurts,’ Ellie admitted. ‘I want her nearly as much as I
at each other a while. I didn’t actually love Ellie (not in the
depths of my brain), but I did like her a lot more than I let on.
the table: I keep maintaining I’ve only had three true loves but
Ellie could have made it a top four. Half a sincere gesture and I’d
have wilted like a reed in a storm.
her big chance but, sadly, she had different ideas.
Friday,’ she began, ‘my old folk are away again. Are you up for
as much as you can take?’
Ten out of
ten for guessing my answer and “no” doesn’t come in to the
As I mentioned a moment ago, all my friends went out of their way to
be nice to Meryl. Sara said she looked “super smashing” and
Jacqui and Roberta were particularly attentive.
at that. Roberta was one of the sexiest girls ever; she made your
average beauty queen look like a shrivelled old glove. There wasn’t
a guy in school who’d ever turn her down. And there wasn’t a guy
in school who wasn’t envious of Jacqui for winning her heart.
up honest, Roberta was seriously fit. I regularly jacked thinking
about her. I know that’s a terrible thing to admit, but it’s the
truth. I used mental images of her while bringing myself off. And it
was one hundred per cent sexual: I didn’t waste time conjuring up
fanciful love stories and airy-fairy things like that. When I
pictured her it was for one end only. I neither needed nor wanted
anything short of release.
accept I was objectifying her, but is it really only men who commit
that crime? How many of us genuinely qualify to cast that first
did it quite often and I did it thinking about other girls too. Burn
me at the stake if you have to; I’m not going to lie and pretend it
was I? Oh yes, drooling over Roberta. Now, if I had one reservation
about her it was that she could be a bit aloof. It was nothing
extreme, please understand, but (Christmas kissing aside!) she did
occasionally seem remote.
she wasn’t aloof on the night of Ralph’s party; not when it came
to Meryl. Her attraction to the girl was as obvious as it was
instantaneous. Jacqui kept trying to join in their (rather one-sided)
conversation but Roberta rolled right over her attempts.
I was, I kept an eye on Meryl. It was hard to believe she wasn’t
flattered by the attention but even harder to read her thoughts. She
might feel reciprocal or she might not. For all I knew she could have
been scoffing inside at the two-faced cow who suddenly wanted to
By that I
mean Roberta, not me!
caught up with me in the toilets (the ladies’ being my second home
for the early part of that evening; I’d switched to wine but those
three pints in Dick’s kept nagging at me).
unpredictable are you!’ she began.
considered telling Lorna about my date with Meryl during our
afternoon in bed but I’d chickened. Now, caught red-handed, I
shrugged apologetically. ‘Sorry,’ I whimpered. ‘I forgot to let
jealousy and apology-free,’ she countered. ‘’And Meryl’s
looking seriously good tonight. I can’t fault you for choice.’
you’re not annoyed?’
a week ago and I’d have questioned your eyesight. Not now, though.
Is there any chance of swapping her for a slightly shop-soiled,
high-mileage rugby forward?’
I did my
spec-removing trick again then laughed. ‘Nowt wrong with these,
lass. You go practice your line-outs; leave Meryl to me.’
We left the Institute shortly after nine o’clock; as soon as I was
sure I’d regained control of my bladder and could prise Meryl away
from Roberta and an increasingly green-eyed Jacqui.
always the first to leave parties?’ she asked as we climbed back in
to the Disco.
when I’m with the hottest girl in town,’ I told her.
me her mildest kiss for that (lukewarm by her standards, sizzling by
thought we could try Keighley Gate,’ she said.
at her. Keighley Gate was a renowned lovers’ lane. I’d never been
there before (naturally!) but everyone knew its name was a euphemism
for “having sex”. In other words, if a girl said she had been
there with a guy, it was taken for granted that she’d opened her
legs. I was surprised Meryl had even heard of the place; surprised
but game to give it a go.
know the way?’ I almost jabbered.
looked it up on the map. I’ll find it, no worries.’
as ever, Meryl drove us past the Institute and out of the village,
taking a right after the mini-roundabout. We soon passed the last
houses and hit open countryside; very much uphill countryside at
that. Then, when I was starting to think we’d end up in Silsden,
she took another right.
meant to get really busy up here,’ she told me. ‘Guys screwing
other guys’ wives and what have you. And kids with nowhere else to
us,’ said I.
a few buildings, some residential but mostly agricultural, then went
down a dip and hit a new uphill stretch. I wasn’t to know it at the
time, but the farm in the dip marked the end of civilization as I
knew it. Maybe I should have guessed because the road stopped being a
narrow-ish country lane and became no more than a single track; one
with regular passing places on generous grass verges.
terrain changed too. The dry stone walls gave way to a thin wire
fence, presumably there to keep sheep safe from rare traffic. Beyond
the fence the grass was mostly short but interspersed with clumps of
much longer stuff that waved like banshees in the wind. As we went
higher and higher clumps of black encroached, heather taking over
from the grass. Then suddenly the grass was no more and we were
surrounded by a sea of black.
Now I like
heather. At certain times of the year it can be purple and simply
majestic. I don’t let it fool me, though. I’ve caddied for my dad
often enough. Even the tame stuff on golf courses can come up to your
waist and the stems can be thicker than my wrist. Hit a ball in there
and you’re wisest to call it lost. In the unlikely event of finding
the thing you’re never going to get it out with doing severe damage
to your scorecard.
it,’ Meryl said eventually, ‘Keighley Gate.’
Discovery’s headlights were illuminating a physical gate; a metal
contraption with six or seven horizontal bars. Through it I could see
that the “road” went on, but not in a usable state. The tarmacked
surface ended where we were currently sitting. Beyond the gate were
potholes and great pools of water. The Luftwaffe must still be
strafing up there, as well as along that street back down in Bingley.
maybe they were making a bit more of an effort up there.
jerked her finger at the gravelled parking space to our right.
that fit the bill?’
remembered the rumours of how busy it got at Keighley Gate and
decided it wouldn’t do. There was room for several cars on that
space and I didn’t want an audience (that was with me being a
relatively innocent teenager and not nearly as naughty as I am
go back down a way,’ I said. ‘One of those passing places seems
more . . . you know. . .’
for being inappropriate?’ Meryl grinned.
We drove back perhaps a hundred yards and found a suitable
position: stopping on a not-too-steep bit of verge with space for one
Disco only. Car sex novice that I was, even I could see that dogging
was not a possibility. Lights from any approaching vehicle would be
visible before it got within a mile of us.
in gear and centrally locked,’ Meryl announced. ‘We can bounce
about to our hearts’ content.’
so excited,’ I confessed.
too,’ said she, unfastening her seat belt and turning to face me.
‘And I’m going to get naked for you. Do you want the music on or
sure what the current CD was. It wasn’t bouncing about music,
though; it was quite tuneful. I suspected it was very early Debbie
Harry and guessed it was Meryl’s idea of “romantic”, so I said
fine by me, leave it on.
watched her unbutton her jeans and unzip her boots.
she said, extending one foot in my direction. ‘You do the honours.’
her boots and put them in the footwell between my legs, standing them
erect like a pair of sentries on guard duty . . . or like my nipples,
which were harder than hard.
get me started on my clit. That was like a little diamond. Eight
years have passed and it has never once been nearly so hard.
have to help with my Levi’s,’ Meryl said, ‘they’re very
but I still had them off her in nanoseconds.
unfastened her waistcoat and made to shrug it aside.
I said. ‘Leave it undone but on.’
she said, chuckling. ‘But I like your style. Knickers on or off?’
I had to
ponder that one. Much of my sex up to then had been outdoors and
clothed. I actually liked it with knickers on. That is to say I
couldn’t think of anything better than slipping my trembling hand
into a girl’s wet panties . . . apart from a girl slipping her hand
into mine, of course.
aside damp material and feeling hot, swollen lips parting in welcome.
I said decisively.
her bum and slid her underwear halfway down her thighs. I obligingly
did then rest then passed her back a boot.
on,’ I instructed.
she said again. Then, in boots, unfastened waistcoat and nothing else
but a grin, she said, ‘I want you to eat me.’
I made her wait for what she really wanted . . . unless she really
wanted me to start on her tits. They had been driving me insane, you
see. I simply had to chew them; to nibble and gnaw, kiss, lick and
suck. I must have been at them for ages. They were so, so moreish.
So was her
pussy. I set out in this tale intending not to make comparisons and I
mean to stick to that, somehow. In a way it is easy to do, because
Meryl’s pussy juice was peerless. I’m sure there is a finer taste
somewhere in the world but I’m yet to find it. And trust me, I’ve
sipped from many wells in my hunt.
Meryl was relatively subdued when I feasted on her lovely titties,
cumming thrice and being so polite as to talk me through all three.
But when I put my tongue tip on her clit or forced the whole thing
inside her, as deep as it could go . . .
about yelling, that girl screamed and SCREAMED!!!
my previous sex had been surreptitious. Being outdoors and at risk of
alerting dog-walkers was always a consideration. And with approved
“sleepovers” there were always parents just down the corridor.
Even Lorna’s posh detached house had its share of nosy neighbours,
all ready to investigate inadvertent cries of joy.
Being in a
car parked up in the middle of nowhere was different. Meryl clearly
saw no reason to bite into my yummy shoulder and didn’t care if she
scared a whole moor full of sheep.
swear like a trooper, too. If I’d had a swear box at a tenner a
time I would have become an overnight billionaire.
good, though. Her sprawled in the driving seat, me trying not to get
impaled on the gear stick, my tongue burrowing ever deeper.
language mixed with her yells. I was the effing best eff she’d ever
had. She’d never cum so effing hard and she wanted me to eff her
forever. Her effing cee was on fire and she effing loved it. If I
ever wanted to eff her I only had to effing ask. She’d never refuse
me an eff, not ever.
usually averse to swearing but I found her tirade strangely arousing.
The fact she kept cumming did help and I’ve already told you how
sweet she tasted. I could quite easily have stayed down there all
night. As it happened, giving up on my hair as too short, she finally
pulled me up by my ears.
your turn,’ she gasped, ’surprise time. Get in the back and get
your kit off.’
indeed plenty of room in the back. I stripped in no time at all and
was in two minds about putting my Docs back on when Meryl joined me.
argue; oh no, I was too intrigued by the object she had in her hand.
. . .’ I began hopefully.
my favourite toy,’ she replied, flicking a switch and making it
perhaps ten seconds I was overwhelmed. I’d hoped for a dildo but
never even considered using a vibrator. Then Meryl pressed it against
my nipple and I was instantly converted.
I’m a sex toy aficionado. I have lots of them and use them whenever
I’m alone in bed. Put simply, I like orgasms and toys help me
achieve. I’m not ashamed of admitting that and I am always ready to
share (two people can have twice the fun, yeah?). The first touch of
Meryl’s vibrator was my big watershed moment.
it was me yelling and screaming. And that was through a little
attention to my non-existent tits. When she progressed and pressed it
to my clit I nearly passed out.
when she pushed it inside me . . .
That night, having much farther to go home, Meryl had set her phone
to give a thirty minutes warning. Before she redressed, recalling
what she’d said about Suzi Q, I kissed her F-me boots.
mind me only having to ask to eff you,’ I told her.
‘You can eff me anytime you like; night or day. Just ask and I’ll
proper girlfriend?’ she said.
enthusiastic as I was, I hesitated at that. ‘Like a proper friend,’
I said eventually. ‘My life is too complicated for commitments, but
I’ll always find time for a friend.’
considered that a while. ‘Sounds like a mutually convenient
arrangement,’ she concluded.
wrong, either. We’ve been sharing effs on and off ever since. In
fact she’s effed me more times than anyone, Sara and Kat included.
Here’s a little postscript to that particular Saturday
night. Driving down from the moors Meryl asked if I liked Blondie.
knocking on a bit but still sexy,’ I replied.
group’s called “Blondie”,’ Meryl said tartly, ‘not the lead
singer. And they’re on in Manchester in January. Do you fancy
making a night of it?’
I said hastily.
doesn’t like me driving there and back in one go,’ Meryl went on.
‘We could get the train. Do an overnight in a hotel.’
good,’ I said sincerely. ‘Will your mum approve?’
will be delighted I’ve made a friend. She won’t even think about
separate rooms or any of that shit.’
case count me in. I . . . Oh my God, that’s Ray’s car.’
was Ray’s mum’s car, but you know what I mean. He’d
parked up in a passing place lower than us. And I was prepared to bet
I knew what he was up to . . . and with whom.
slow,’ I said, ‘I have to see this.’
Discovery had a significant height advantage over a Fiesta. Meryl
practically crawled past. It was easy-peasy for me to peer in and the
smaller car’s occupants didn’t even notice us.
the girl on her back, legs braced against the roof; or the guy on
top, pounding into her, his bare ass bobbing frantically.
that Sara?’ Meryl asked perhaps ten minutes later, as we went
through East Morton yet again.
couldn’t properly see,’ said I. ‘But I’d bet the farm on it.
If I had a farm, that is.’
cow,’ Meryl observed.
her way, smiling in spite of myself. ‘She’s a slut after what
we’ve been doing?’
Meryl said with conviction. ‘Girls don’t count. We can eff each
other as much as we like.’
So to Sunday. My Mum brought me the usual coffee in bed, gave me the
usual grilling then asked me to remind her why exactly Kelly was
I gave her
the same flannel as before and added some extras. Kelly might be
mannish but she wasn’t my type. I was “with” Sara and not
looking for anyone else . . .
being the biggest lie I’d ever told anyone!!)
of the NAND gates,’ my mum said, ‘what are you really up to?’
I told her
that we had a bitch of a piece of coursework. ‘I’m cool with it,’
I said truthfully. ‘But our new IT teacher isn’t up to scratch.
I’m going to explain the bits Kelly doesn’t get.’
that cheating?’ Mum said, somewhat predictably.
I fibbed. ‘If our teacher had half a brain Kelly would sail
through. I’m just explaining the essentials he can’t seem to get
said Mum. ‘Tell me you’re not going to get into trouble.’
will press all the keys herself,’ I assured her. ‘I won’t leave
a single fingerprint.’
Mum was being unfair when she described Kelly as “mannish”. She
was even taller than me and sexy as hell. She was also as thin as a
rake and looked good for it. Her hips were narrow and she had tits
that stood out like melons . . . and prize-winning melons at that.
of mine and tits, eh? It just is not fair!!)
mannish or not, my mother was right to worry about leaving me alone
a wild, sexual weekend and, truth was, I was hungry for more.
fortunately, was she.
Mum was the tricky bit. She turned up early on with coffees and
biscuits while the two of us were lying innocently on our tummies,
heavily involved with master-slave flip-flops.
hand landed on my ass three seconds after the coast was clear.
grasped the concept,’ she said. ‘Let me grasp this instead.’
can I say? Having furtive sex in my bedroom was the sexiest thing
ever! Always aware my mum could show up at any moment, we fingered
each other like crazy. Then, throwing caution to the wind, we took
turns to face-sit in an awkward, semi-dressed sort of a way.
definitely an afternoon in keeping with the rest of the weekend.
Scary but fun, fun, fun. I was as good as terrified all along but
that only added to the occasion.
what? After that Kelly became another regular lover of mine.
have been rude to exclude her.
In case you are wondering I did have a chat with Sara about Saturday
night. At first, appalled that I’d seen her at it, she accused me
of following her. Then, when I pointed out I’d left at nine and
only seen her at half past midnight, she relented a little.
saw you go past,’ she said.
didn’t linger,’ I fibbed, ‘and it was only too obvious your
attention was elsewhere.’
she like?’ Sara went on. ‘Meryl, I mean.’
experienced,’ I told her. ‘But that’s all you’re getting. I
don’t ask you about Ray, do I?’
evidently don’t need to,’ she laughed. Then, growing serious:
‘Does our agreement still stand?’
so.’ I shrugged. ‘But I’ve agreed to see Meryl again. We might
have to redefine “flings”.’
mean the flings you have but I don’t?’ Sara held her hand up
before I could object. ‘We might be grown women but we’re still
finding our feet, aren’t we? I never expected Ray to become as
regular as he seems to be. And you never expected to click with
needs a friend,’ I replied. ‘I can’t just ditch her. It would
be cruel. And besides, I don’t want to ditch her.’
as experienced as that, is she?’ Sara laughed again. ‘Go on,
then, let’s redefine “flings” . . .’
The next few months were - to say the least - fulfilling. Officially
I was Sara’s number one girl but I still went out with Ellie, (the
alliterative) Kelly and Meryl. I also ensured I kept up all those
secret monthly Saturday liaisons with Lorna.
a week sharing a bed with Sara, four other regular lovers . . .
Mondays and Tuesdays at Spar . . .
ahead of the pack with my A-level studying . . .
didn’t have time for a one-off one-night stand! Chance would have
been a fine thing!!
forget to mention it, Ellie gave me a dildo for a Christmas present.
It was very similar to hers except it was transparent instead of
jet-black. Determined to match her generosity, (afraid of buying off
the Internet with its suspicious “plain brown-paper parcels”) I
caught the train into Leeds and bought her a multi-speed rabbit in
the sales. Take it from me: we made good use of both those presents
every time we were sure her parents were safely out of the way.
Call me a
sex-addict but who cares! Is there really a better activity than
cumming one’s brains out with a friend who has similar tastes?
Easter was late that year; well into April. Sara set off for
Lanzarote the week before Good Friday (for some reason UK flights
were always on Thursdays, so she went on the one before Maundy money
got dished out). In other words, by pure co-incidence, she missed the
Sixth Form Easter Bash.
me opportunistic, but Miss Williams was on duty that night. “Duty”
meant that four teachers had to attend yet another common room
function with a dry bar, there to ensure nothing too untoward
occurred with all those horny teenagers let loose in the same place.
Miss Williams drew lucky in that she only had to be there until nine
thirty. She also drew lucky in that I totally hogged her time from
the second I arrived.
perhaps she didn’t consider herself so lucky, but I hogged her time
all the same. As I’ve already mentioned, she was staggeringly
good-looking. And Sara was away, Kelly was God only knew where, Lorna
was with Steve and Ellie was otherwise engaged. I guess Meryl was
somewhere up to no good and it didn‘t matter anyway; the
opportunity to flirt with Miss Williams was too good to resist.
She let me
flirt as well. Okay, so she did it in a guarded sort of a way. We
both were open with each other about doing girls, remember? But I
suppose I did go at the flattery like a bull at a gate. If she was at
all reluctant I pretended not to notice. Supermodels have had fewer
compliments than the thousands I paid her.
time for me to be off,’ she said, maybe ten minutes before her
supervising stint ended.
you wouldn’t.’ I replied.
she already knew how the wind was blowing (unless she’d suddenly
become blind, deaf and dumb she must have!). If nothing else she had
to have noticed the way I was staring at her, lustily and with my
tongue all but hanging out.
relationships are a quagmire,’ she said, before I could proposition
eighteen,’ I replied. ‘I can vote, marry, drive and everything.
Surely you can take me for a drink? I’ll even pay if that’s a
problem. I am old enough.’
. . .’
Dave to you.’
met for the first time. I mean really, really met.
you?’ I asked.
you to friends?’
she admitted. ‘Occasionally I’m Valentina.’
are you to lovers?’
her head, smiling a little ruefully.
on,’ I persisted. ‘Do you want me to buy you a drink or what?’
lovers I’m always Val,’ she said finally. ‘And I don’t
believe I’ve let you talk me into this.’
We went to a pub called The Hermit. It was halfway to Ilkley and in a
position that was nearly as remote as Keighley Gate.
can’t be seen out and about together,’ Miss Williams told me,
will know us up here. We’re as good as anonymous.’
have my career to think about. If we . . .’
to have sex with you,’ I interjected. I don’t particularly want
anyone to see us. And I will never tell anyone one word about
anything we do together. My lips are sealed as far as sex goes. I
want it like crazy, but I will never blab.’
Williams stared at me. I could tell she’d weakened. Beautiful women
always have that look about them when they’re about to come across.
‘You are very tempting,’ she said.
you might think that,’ I replied. ‘Have I an incy-wincy chance of
sex after all?’
the answer was “yes”.
Val Williams was the woman who introduced me to tribbing. That
happened in the back of her car, in a layby very soon after we’d
left The Hermit. She was also the first woman who had me with a
strap-on, a week later . . . in her bed . . . in the heat of passion
and on my best ever Good Friday night.
ready for a digression? Well, here goes, whether you are or are not.
Being penetrated is one of my big sexual likes . . . as long as it’s
done by a woman. If asked why the idea of being penetrated by a man
is a turn-off . . .
at a loss. The obvious answer is that most women are beautiful, have
great bodies and nice tits. And they are tender, caring and skilled,
of course. But I have been shagged by a few who aren’t very pretty
and blah-di-dah. And I’ve also enjoyed it every time woman has
penetrated me, in any of the oh-so many ways it can be done.
Put on the
spot I’d say it is body-shape and touch when it comes to women. If
pressed I’d say I have a subconscious block against men. Whatever
it is, the prospect of a suitably-equipped lady never fails to arouse
me. Men . . .
sorry boys, I’m sure you’ll find someone more suitable.
I’ll repeat myself: I’m not a man-hater; I just never have seen
the need for me to venture in their direction.
adventurous Sara and Ellie; they often ventured that way. And I’m
not altogether sure what the tight-lipped Meryl got up to. She
certainly knew a lot more male band-members and hangers-on than a
respectable girl was supposed to.
then: Easter. Apart from that big breakthrough with Val, I’m not
sure why I headlined this bit of my life so prominently. Except
Easter was a big thing for all of us in the upper sixth. Maybe it
wasn’t quite a Sea Change Moment, but it wasn’t so far off.
else it was the beginning of the end.
No, it was
The Beginning of the End.
I won’t waste too much time on our walking trip to the Lake
District. There were four or us (after a few “certainties”
dropped out at the eleventh hour); two lesbians and two straight.
And, being all of us pro transparency, we set out with a very strict
understanding that “straight” meant straight.
sharing the same tent,’ I said, all self-righteous, ‘so we all
have to behave.’
if you will,’ the very straight Eileen replied, smirking.
I should have seen the writing on the wall there and then!
self-righteous or not, I also set out under the strict understanding
that Jacqui had split with Roberta, very suddenly and unexpectedly on
Easter Sunday (maybe she got her the wrong chocolate egg from
Thorntons!). The rest of us in holiday mood, we hit the track on Bank
Holiday Monday, with Jacqui doing her best to be upbeat and put on a
swear to God I had no intention of any sort of intimacy with anybody
during that break. I had no intention of embarrassing our straight
mates in any way, and even less of making a play for a girl on the
I told myself when the little red devil came a-calling; Roberta
will probably have reconsidered by the time we get back. Just how
awkward would that homecoming be if we . . .
So this is
the abridged version of those six days; right? There were four of us
sharing a tent, all sworn to no more than friendship, and trustworthy
I’m a big whore but I know when to keep my hands to myself; even
drunk I’d have needed very severe provocation to as much as kiss a
reluctant straight girl.)
night was uneventful but very cold after a wonderfully hot spring
afternoon. The next morning we were up early, rubbing life back into
our limbs and eager to get up and down those hills. That day’s
weather was wonderful too; the fresh air smelt and tasted like
champagne. We must have done at least thirty miles by evening; far
enough to unanimously agree refreshments were in order.
lads from our sixth form showed up in the hikers’ area of our
“local” pub in Borrowdale, all of them keen as mustard to join
us. To be fair that wasn’t such a surprise. We’d made no secret
we would be in the vicinity and neither had they. It was only when
one of them, failing in an unflagging bid to charm Eileen, used the
deadly words “four lezzies in a tent” . . .
reaction was instant and spectacular. If I hadn’t grabbed her the
silly young boy really would have been toast.
fuck out of here,’ she snarled at him, thankfully letting me
restrain her. ‘Come anywhere near my lezzie tent and your balls
will be launched into orbit.’
more sensible friends) realized she had a point. They evacuated him
from the pub and said maybe our paths would cross again.
thankfully, they didn’t.
hour or so was spent in calming Jacqui down. She’d laugh one
minute, growl the next. She’d also snarl at anyone with a dick who
came within two yards. Believe me, it was very much like sharing a
table with Lorena Bobbitt . . . except Jacqui wasn’t nearly as
of a certain age, Lorena Bobbitt performed dramatic ad hoc surgery on
part of her abusive husband, doing it in the sort of way he’ll not
our calming efforts I couldn’t help but notice Eileen smiling at me
every now and again.
Lesbians in a Tent,’ she said eventually, ‘didn’t that star
my dreams,’ I replied. ‘I think the actresses I saw in it were
there were two versions,’ said Jane. ‘I’m sure the actresses I
saw were speaking Czech.’
Jacqui’s ice. ‘Oh nuts to it all,’ she exclaimed. ‘’Let’s
just get pissed and screw guys!’
guys?’ I echoed.
let’s not screw guys.’ Jacqui drained her mostly empty
glass. ‘I meant screw guys; who needs ‘em?’
later, when many more beers had been consumed, Eileen mentioned that
it would be cold again that night. Maybe even cold enough to warrant
us zipping our sleeping bags into doubles . . .
Zipping bags into doubles is exactly what we did (after getting back
to find a locked-up camp site and having to climb a dry-stone wall to
you?’ Eileen suggested as she battled with an obstinate zipper.
I said after glancing at the other two. ‘And I promise there’ll
be no funny stuff.’
course, there was plenty of funny stuff, all of it instigated by
fetching sleeping gear that night consisted of thick walking socks,
knickers and T-shirts. And I have to admit, it was much cosier with
two in a bag than one; much, much cosier.
together with Eileen I watched Jacqui and Jane cram themselves into
their own freshly assembled double.
called Jacqui as she reached out and switched off the rechargeable
lantern, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’
Jane added with more of a cackle than a chuckle.
said sleep tight and then, without further ado, Eileen kissed me. In
a quandary, determined to stick to my “hands off” vow but not
wanting to offend her, I let myself be kissed. By that I mean I did
my utmost not to respond too passionately and let her make the
running. And trust me; the girl was up for the long haul, not a quick
peck on the lips.
that I controlled myself impeccably for that first embrace, managing
to ignore the feel of her tits against me and the way her mostly bare
legs were moving with mine. Then, after perhaps quarter of an hour,
she stopped kissing my mouth and kissed my neck instead.
temptation or what! She was working her way from just below my ear to
my collarbone then back up again. And my neck has always been
sensitive. Feeling all the familiar signs down below I fought
desperately to keep control. It wasn’t easy, though. Shivers were
running up and down my spine and my panties were issuing severe flood
stuck her tongue in my ear and I was lost.
So now you know; I’m blaming it on Eileen’s bright ideas and
seductive tongue tip, and possibly ever-so slightly on my
over-responsive ear. Whatever it was, we weren’t chilled to the
core when we woke next morning and we were all still friends (and
yes, it transpired Jacqui and Jane had been up to lots of the same
sort of mischief as us).
another full day walking and a brief sojourn in the local boozer, we
did it all again.
our fourth night, in the spirit of experimentation, Jane and Eileen
fifth night, assured by her that Roberta was history, I slept with
Jacqui. Well, we shared a bag and I demonstrated my new-found skill
in tribbing, a knack she quickly picked up for herself. Actual
sleeping hardly happened.
gracious, didn’t she pick tribbing up well!
there wasn’t a sixth night. After a morning’s ramble it was time
to head home. As Jane drove us out of paradise we all agreed we’d
had a fantastic time and, on Jacqui’s suggestion, also agreed that
“whatever happened in the Lakes stayed in the Lakes”.
any of us were ever likely to let it slip our minds.
Re-reading that last
Chapter makes me wonder who I think I am. Or, rather, who I thought I
was. As I said earlier, I made a big deal out of “Easter” in my
latest title for no real reason. But the more I think about it, the
more significant that particular Easter was in our lives. Normally it
just slips past as yet another public holiday, properly observed only
by a few religious folk . . .
was massive. However adult we felt during our break, it was the
marking of the end of our girlhood. Everything had changed when we
got back to school. Familiar timetables for familiar lessons were no
longer applicable. Suddenly we were faced with strict exam
timetables. These had strict times underlined and all too clearly
stressed DO NOT BE EVEN A MINUTE LATE!!!
instead of double mixed-games to look forward to on Wednesday, it was
leave of absence and “See you next month for the first sitting of
all the fun had gone out of growing up.
To make a
bad job even worse, my sex life started to fall apart. My mother and
Sara’s decided that, “at such a delicate stage”, we should only
overnight once a fortnight, if that. Then the frigging rugby season
ended and Saturdays with Lorna dried up. And eff me if Roberta and
Meryl hadn’t got together while the rest of us were all away
walking up mountains and fells! Okay, so Meryl didn’t forsake (and
still hasn’t forsaken) me, but she wasn’t nearly so readily
always a moody so-and-so. I stuck with her and had those (too
infrequent!) nights with Sara but Ellie seemed to be always off
chasing dick. I swear; if it wasn’t for Miss Williams and her
strap-ons I’d have gone mad before my exams even started.
falling turnover I had quite a few flings with Jacqui, consoling her
for her “loss”. But they were mostly outdoors, and not nearly as
fulfilling as a few hours in Val’s bed . . . or an hour or so in
the back of her car . . .
minutes in the stationery cupboard at school, fighting to fulfil each
other as swiftly as possible.
about Val: she must have had the world’s best-developed buns. Trust
me, I held onto them often enough while she tirelessly pounded and
grinded away at me. My buns probably became well-developed too; I
certainly did not simply lie there and take it like a lamb.
could have. Not with her.
The feeling of falling apart was inescapable, though. I constantly
maintained it was “change” and no more, but I never did seem
convincing, not even to me. My circumstances were changing too, you
see. It wasn’t just my friends, preparing to sail off into
university’s wide blue yonder.
started job-hunting back when my schoolmates started applying for uni
places. And, unlike most of them, I did it en masse. In other words I
worked out which local businesses had large IT teams and sent them my
CV (the would-be version, backed by teachers’ estimates of final
grades). At first I targeted junior programming roles then, when I
realized experience was going to be an issue in that, I widened my
net still wider.