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Davina Does Easter

By LimeyLady

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


Chapter Twenty-Seven - Saturday Afternoon with Lorna

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Dick’s

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Keighley Gate

Chapter Thirty - Mmmm Meryl . . .

Chapter Thirty-One - A New Deal

Chapter Thirty-Two - Val

Chapter Thirty-Three - Camping in the Lakes

Chapter Thirty-Four - Night School

Author’s Note

Other Books by LimeyLady


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”.

Well I wouldn’t be, would I?

Okay. So 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 cum.

Hard work I know, but somebody had to do it!

I won’t 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 the merrier”.

And let’s also get back to me and Lorna, picking up somewhere between two and three hours after we’d kicked off . . .

Chapter Twenty-Seven

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”?

Come to 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 me?

Lorna’s hand pulled me out of my reverie, landing on my thigh nice and high up, close to my groin.

I 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.

Well, not much, anyway. Still, having her touching me even innocuously was great.

‘Mmmm,’ I went. ‘Keep going.’

Lorna’s hand brushed my swollen lips, light as a butterfly’s wings, and she echoed my chuckle.

‘How much will you tell Sara?’

‘Eh?’ I replied, oh-so articulately.

‘About this afternoon, I mean. Do you really tell her everything you get up to?’

‘We’re 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.’

‘Steve’s 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.’

‘Neanderthal’s were relatively civilized,’ I said automatically. ‘They just get bad press.’ Then, frowning: ‘What was that about Steve fancying me?’

‘He’s 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 finally.

‘You’re ahead of most of us,’ said Lorna. ‘Trust me, Dave; you have a lot of men’s hands moving very rapidly every night.’

My retching sounds weren’t entirely faked. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m nobody’s dream girl. And that imagery is making me sick.’

‘Welcome to the club.’ She laughed. ‘What about Ellie? What do you tell her?’

‘I 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.’

‘But you can deal with her?’

Lorna’s hand had moved higher; it was cupping my pussy now, not actually doing anything apart from being warm and cosy.

‘Yeah,’ I gasped, ‘I can deal with both of them.’

‘Good,’ said Lorna, beginning to rub.


I declined the offer of a shared shower because somehow it had got to five twenty-five.

‘Let’s 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?’

‘You want to do this again?’ I queried, a little surprised, enormously gratified.

‘You bet I do. I’m missing you already.’

Logical Dave muttered something about flings supposed to be one-offs. I ignored her.

What did she know!

‘As long as you’re jealousy-free I’m your gal,’ I told Lorna, smiling into her eyes.

She beamed right back at me. ‘Jealousy-free and sneakily surreptitious,’ she said. ‘And what Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?’

‘Yes, but he’ll find out one day. Somebody will twig and he’ll be the next to know.’

‘That possibility will add to the edge,’ she said, grinning ever-wider.

‘Seeing 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.’

‘He’d 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 more desirable.’

‘I wish,’ said I. ‘Er . . . when’s the next slot in your diary?’

‘My parents visit Sheffield every third or fourth weekend. And Steve has rugby all day Saturday at this time of year.’

‘Every three or four weeks it is then.’ I offered her my fist.

‘You 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 kitchen.

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