A Temptation Too Far?

Seen as she was, allegedly covered but very, very visible, Maxi looked exceptionally bed-able.

And if Naomi was feeling the cold, why wasn't their hostess? Why was she grinning like a cat that just got the cream?

'Come in, come in,' Maxi invited. 'Let's go into the lounge and I'll introduce you to Jasmine.'

*****

Jasmine was and was not what Heather had anticipated. Totally unlike a shot-putter of any nationality whatsoever, her face had all the classic beauty of a Thai model. But wasn't she tall? And never mind a mere model; she had the figure of a supermodel. Even clad in denims and a red UMIST sweatshirt it screamed out: LOOK AT ME!

Heather reckoned she'd look good in anything, from rags via bin-bags to designer wear.

(Not to mention a white see-through negligee.)

'This here is Naomi,' said Maxi, 'and this long-haired one is Hurricane Heather; the one I warned you about.'

'You didn't,' Heather protested.

'I'm afraid she did,' said Jasmine. 'I got the full weather warning.'

Her voice made Heather and Naomi exchange glances. Stunningly exotic as she looked, those words of hers sounded like someone straight off EastEnders.

Maxi jumped in before questions could be asked. 'I've got the evening mapped out,' she announced. 'You, Hev, are taking Jasmine into my bedroom while Naomi stays in here with me. Then we'll swap places after . . . I dunno; maybe a couple of hours. Then we can have a drink or two and decide what happens next.'

Jasmine held out her hand, clearly pre-primed and just as clearly not averse to kicking off with such a long-haired force of nature. 'Come with me,' she said in that Estuary English of hers, 'I'll show you the way.'

Heather knew the way already . . . unless Jasmine was talking at sexual cross-purposes. Sparing one last glance at Naomi, seeing no reluctance there at all, she took the proffered hand.

'Go ahead,' she said, 'I'm all yours.'

*****

It wasn't so very far to the bedroom and soon they were closeted away from the world. Briefly Heather wondered how old her latest lover-to-be was, guessing her to be "mature" because of her peace links with Maxi. Not that she looked excessively mature. She could have easily passed for eighteen. In fact she probably got asked for ID in bars every time.

Then Jasmine kissed her and all rational thought fled in the direction of dinosaurs and dodos.

Apart from her very first proper "lovers' kiss" Heather had never known anything like it. Their lips met and her head swirled with dizzying speed. Her legs instantly lost all strength. The contact could have lasted seconds, minutes or hours. Everything was spinning and swimming around her and she didn't care. Only the kiss mattered. The rest of the world was immaterial.

Yes, yes, yes . . . what an unforgettable embrace.

When some vague level of consciousness returned Heather was on her back on the bed. They'd both somehow got naked and Jasmine was on her, paying lavish attention to her left boob.

And if the kiss had been unforgettable, what was that boob attention? Superlatives for it didn't exist so Heather simply accepted it for what it was. A multitude of licks and kisses, the gentlest of nibbles, soft strokes of knowing fingers, occasional squeezes . . .

Jasmine had done this before, all right. And she was doing better than anyone, ever, ever, ever.

Amazingly, Heather had her orgasm under a measure of control. Or maybe it was her lover who had it under control. Maybe the hapless victim had no say in the matter.

Not that Heather really considered herself as "hapless" or a "victim". She was only too willingly taking the best imaginable boob-play and relishing every last lick.

And every last kiss.

Not forgetting every last nibble, stroke and squeeze.

Eventually a climax hit her, making her cry out loud. Encouraged, Jasmine switched boobs and did it all over again. This time Heather maybe orgasmed a tad quicker but twice as hard. This time her cries and yells could probably be heard by everyone living anywhere along the street.

Nobody came to investigate, though, so Jasmine changed tactics. Now she was switching from boob to boob, left then right, right then left and on and on, ad infinitum. She was speeding up as well. All of that "control" nonsense fled from Heather's head. Her climax was as intense as any she had ever had and her latest yells and screams were probably heard as far away as Manchester.

Or maybe even Leeds.

*****

For a while they stayed in situ, chests heaving together as they fought for breath. Then, when a form of normality was restored, Jasmine inched up Heather's body, not stopping until they were aligned in a breast-to-breast, groin-to-groin sort of a way.

'Has anyone ever told you,' Heather began, 'you're the most beautiful girl in the universe? And you're quite possibly the best in bed as well.'

'Funny,' giggled Jasmine, 'I was about to say the same about you.'

Then, very much the girl on top, she showered Heather's face with fleeting kisses, not just hundreds or thousands of them but millions and billions. Heather gladly submitted to the onslaught. But it wasn't quite enough.

Only too aware of that delicious bodily contact, she slid her hands down Jasmine's back, onto her tidy little ass. Pulling on it, aligning them even more deliciously, she started to move against her. Jasmine twigged immediately and moved in co-operation.

What bliss! The hail storm of kisses continued but seemed irrelevant compared with the sensation of their bodies moving as one. Every last millimetre of Heather was super-receptive. That wasn't exactly a new experience, but the degree of receptiveness was. Now it was off the scale.

Tummies brushing tummies, shoulders rubbing shoulders, thighs skating on thighs . . .

Never mind the staggeringly good breast-to-breast stimulation. And, as for groin-to-groin . . . that was cosmic.

'Heather,' Jasmine groaned, 'I'm gonna . . .'

'Give me two,' Heather groaned back at her. 'Two more minutes and we go off together; right?'

Jasmine's response was more of a sob that a groan but she kept on grinding.

For her part Heather was ready to combust. But two more minutes wasn't long, was it?

Not with mighty rewards at the finish line.

Counting off a hundred and twenty seconds in her head, relishing every last one of them, she quite deliberately kept on going, perhaps doubling the time promised. And at last she'd gone too far.

'Oh no, oh no,' Jasmine suddenly yelped. 'Heather, I'm . . .'

'On three,' Heather yelped back. 'One . . .'

'Two,' they cried together, 'three . . .'

Cue a mutual, fifty megaton nuclear explosion.

Chapter Seven

When Jasmine made a bid to slide down Heather she was grabbed by her short, black hair.

'Hey,' she protested,' I need to taste.'

'So do I,' Heather countered. 'Let's sixty-nine and share the experience. And worry not; you can stay on top.'

Jasmine grumbled a bit before elegantly turning through a hundred and eighty degrees and lowering a very swollen, exceeding moist fanny onto Heather's eagerly awaiting mouth.

What a kick was that! By then Jasmine had lost her essential essence down there. By then she was a blend of both of them: of their special mix of deodorant, scent, sweat and lady juice.

And what a blend, what a mix!

Nobody had ever been so sweet, so swollen or so ready. Already lost in rapture, Heather overdosed on the girl.

Yes, yes, yes, her scrambled brain rambled, 'more, more!

Yet, scrambled or not, some rationality remained. Although she wanted to feast on the flow she acted as if she'd just drawn a card in the adult version of Monopoly.

Maybe it was a losing card, maybe a winner. It read:

GO TO CLIT

GO DIRECTLY TO CLIT

DO NOT PASS GO

DO NOT COLLECT £200

Jasmine's clitoris was as large and as erect as any Heather had ever seen. As something of an expert she was seriously impressed.

As the grateful recipient of a GO TO CLIT card she dived in like there was no tomorrow.

Acapulco professionals had been known to show less enthusiasm. There again, they weren't plunging into Jasmine, were they?

And yum, yum, yum!

Meanwhile Jasmine was taking another course. After paying Hev's labia a lot of attention she moved slowly yet surely on to the mouth of her vagina. And didn't she know what she was doing. Her roving tongue-tip eased in no deeper than a centimetre, precisely where Heather liked it best.

Bliss; this was bliss.

Urgency was no longer an issue. Both of them focused on pleasing the other, both relishing every last lash of hungry tongues, they went on and on and on . . . but not forever.

For a second time they perfectly co-ordinated orgasms. And this time, because it was rude to talk with one's mouth full, they did it telepathically.

Oh, okay then. In reality they did by being highly experience females, capable of reading each other's body language. Recognizing and instinctively matching rising excitement levels, using restraint every so often, wicked imagination now and then, until enough was enough and they rather abruptly ditched "restraint" altogether.

Ultimately letting loose a sixty megaton blast.

As if Heather was likely to settle for that. When they finally stopped mutually contracting she pressed on regardless . . .

Only to be interrupted by a familiar voice declaring, 'Enough!'

The voice was coming from within a foot from Hev's ear. Reluctantly she turned from Jasmine's fanny and saw Naomi grinning at her.

'Time's up, Hev,' Naomi said cheerfully, 'Maxi's ready for you.'

'We've hardly even started,' Heather protested.

Naomi laughed. 'You've had nearly three hours.'

Stunned, Heather glanced at a bedside alarm clock. Crap, she was right! Just where exactly had this evening gone to?

'Doesn't feel like three hours,' she grouched, wriggling out from under Jasmine and getting to her feet.

'Best hurry,' Naomi said sweetly. 'I've been watching you ten minutes at least. Maxi isn't renowned for patience, is she?'

'Enjoy the show?' said Heather, not waiting for a reply, looking at Jasmine. 'I'm not done with you yet. Not by a long chalk.'

'Promises, promises,' Jasmine grinned. Then, with a measure of sincerity, 'I guess I really can't wait.'

'I'll be back,' said Heather before leaving, her tone pure Arnie.

*****

Standing naked by the bed Naomi addressed Jasmine, mislead by her youthful appearance, perhaps, maybe not aware of her past. 'Please tell me Hev wasn't too vigorous.'

'She was hardly vigorous at all,' Jasmine reassured her. 'Those weather warnings were wrong. I didn't see a heavy shower, never mind a tropical storm.'

'Can I ask you something?'

'Ask away. But, seeing as you've just done three hours with Maxi, the answer is yes.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean she doesn't take prisoners. So I'm all yours. You can be "it".'

'That's not what I wanted to ask.'

'Go on, then, ask away.'

'Your accent . . . Maxi says you're from Thailand . . . but . . .'

Jasmine hooted at that. 'You are one curious girl. Heather never mentioned that.'

'Heather wouldn't have. Chatting up in a bar and she can't say enough. But alone with a girl like you, in a cosy bedroom . . .'

'I get the picture. And I'm from here in England. I'm even a genuine Cockney, born in Bethnal Green, well within the sound of Bow Bells.'

'Please don't take offence, but you don't look like a Cockney.' Naomi hastily added: 'You look simply divine.'

'Well I am a Cockney and so is my dad. His parents . . . my paternal grandparents . . . came here from Bangkok in the early fifties.'

'So who's your mum? Is there a big Thai community in Bethnal Green?'

'Nosy, aren't you?'

'No, go on. I'm really interested.'

'There's hardly any Thai community. Want to hear the story?'

'Yes please.'

'My dad got a first-class degree at a decent university. His dad rewarded him by paying for a fortnight in Thailand, to see the land of his ancestors. He met my mum on his first day there. When two weeks were up they were both head over heels in love. He couldn't stay and she couldn't live without him. So they got married.'

'How sweet is that?' said Naomi, totally sincerely.

'Apparently there was lots of red tape but they got round it.' Jasmine laughed. 'Mum claims she began the craze for Thai brides. But it wasn't like that at all. Dad was only a student. He hadn't money to pay for an airline ticket, never mind a bride.'

Naomi nodded. She knew all about being a penniless student. 'How did he get her back?'

'Thanks to my granddad, I guess. I don't know all the ins and outs.'

'So,' Naomi said after a pause for thought, 'you could consider yourself Thai and Cockney.'

'I suppose I could. I reckon I have the background for dual nationality, even though I've only got a UK passport.'

'Which do you actually feel?'

'Cockney,' Jasmine said without hesitation. 'My name is Jasmine on my birth certificate even though Mum insists on calling me "Malivalaya", which translates quite closely, although other alternatives are available.'

'It's got a ring to it,' said Naomi. 'It's hard to pronounce, but catchy for all that.'

'Never mind pronunciations. Are you going to fuck me or what?'

Naomi hesitated for a breath then grinned.

'Oh . . . go on, then.'

Chapter Eight

As Heather grouched her way back to the lounge she dwelt on Naomi. What a transformation. In only a week she'd gone from mildly curious to . . . to . . . well, rampant. Only three hours ago she'd been a one woman gal, now she'd had a second woman. Right now she was probably into a third.

With a fourth as good as guaranteed to follow tomorrow.

Perhaps I have encouraged her too efficiently, Heather mused. Then she laughed. Naomi had been a sexually active woman all the way through university. Few females attended Keith's swapping parties at all, never mind several times, and the ones that did were as good as sex addicts.

Like Hev herself, if an example was needed.

And why should she not, as long as she took safe-sex care? Why not indeed?

What to conclude about Naomi's taste in girls? She had previously suspected she fancied strong and mannish females but now had her doubts. Sparing her own blushes, Naomi had plumped for two sexy babes and two muscular hunks.

Not that Heather discriminated herself. Yes, she liked sexy babes, but hunks could be awesome.

Yes, like the supremely awesome Angie, for instance.

Not allowing herself to dwell on Angie she went into the lounge and found Maxi on the couch, reclined like a prime Victorian nude.

'Ah,' Maxi began, 'it's . . .'

'Hush,' Heather countered, closing the door behind her without looking. 'Tonight has just got better for you. I'm here to serve. Tell me what you want and it's all yours.'

Maxi blinked at the prospect. Then she grinned like a proverbial Cheshire cat. 'Put it like that, maybe I could come up with an idea or three.'

*****

Turned out Maxi wanted personal attention. Turned out that Hev was all for that, especially when she saw her old mucker produce a strapless affair from under one of her couch cushions.

'I think a little of this could be in order,' Maxi purred.

(Leastways she purred as much as her gravelly voice permitted.)

'Yes,' said Heather, 'I really do think it could.'

Maxi's strapless device was very similar to Hev's own device, even if it was in a different colour. They had used similar toys together on several occasions, always producing immense pleasure.

'Which end do you want,' she enquired, much like a polite lady asking "milk and sugar".

'I want the horse end,' Maxi replied. 'And you know exactly how I want it.'

Heather had bought her first strapless affair back in her first year. Devouring all of the accompanying instructions she'd then practiced home alone (in those days, "room in halls alone"), inserting the pony end and walking about, letting her most intimate muscles grow accustomed.

She'd also masturbated with it, alone again, naturally, concentrating on the feel of the pony end inside her mostly but now and then treating herself to the horse, using it like a traditional dildo.

Yes, she knew strapless devices all right. And she had never been reluctant to use them.

Tonight was no exception.

'Stay exactly where you are,' she instructed, reaching for the device and effortlessly inserting the pony end.

Her ever-obedient Kegels instantly tightened around it, holding it firmly in place.

'Come fuck me,' said Maxi, unconsciously imitating Jasmine.

'Fat chance,' Heather replied, straddling her and thrusting the horse between Maxi's generous tits.

To her eternal credit, Maxi took the hint. Pressing those wonderful orbs so very tightly around the toy she gratefully allowed Hev to shag them. And shag them and shag them.

Hev loved every last sensation of shagging with a strapless device. Strap-ons were not a patch. This had to be close to the real thing. Not that she envied guys or anything, but the deed had to have a bit of something going for it, didn't it?

Face it, guys and gals had been doing it ever since Adam and Eve. They couldn't all be wrong.

Yes, that pony was doing wonderful things inside her and she was causing Maxi's boobs to tingle and spark.

Where was the problem in that?

*****

Finally, at last, Heather climaxed. By then she was perhaps three cums behind Maxi but by no means in the mood to argue. Not when Maxi was shifting position, taking her in her mouth . . .

On the face of it the situation was ridiculous. Maxi was a relatively rare gold star lesbian. She had no interest in men whatsoever . . .

Yet she could suck off like she did it every day. And she knew how use a hand while she was at it.

Heather's brain yammered. Closing her eyes she could feel the pony moving not so deeply inside her, feel the subtle nuances between Maxi's mouth and her hand . . .

'Maxi,' she as good as wailed.

If that was meant to be a plea to desist it didn't work. Maxi took nil interest. Instead she ground the toy right and left, very voraciously using it to excite.

And with suitable success; within minutes Heather came volcanically.

Yet again!

'Now fuck me,' Maxi commanded.

From not so very afar Heather could hear female yelps and wails . . . Jasmine's, at a best guess.

'Put your negligee back on,' she commanded.

Maxi's eyes narrowed. 'What?' she snapped.

'It excites me,' Heather explained. 'I want to shag you wearing it.'

Maxi swiftly complied and, before she could get back on her couch, Heather grabbed her, kissing her passionately, her left hand under and inside the flimsy material. Maxi had the nous to position herself as she returned the kiss, allowing easy access.

Heather knew the territory extensively. The arrow-like triangle of short-trimmed pubic hair was moist. Beneath the arrow was hot and sodden. Inside her was even hotter, even wetter.

Suddenly it wasn't possible to wait.

Breaking off their embrace she pushed Maxi against the nearest wall and, holding up the hem of her gown, she ran the horse up and down her slit. Then, relatively tenderly but very hastily, she achieved penetration.

Maxi groaned and gripped Heather's upper body. 'Do it,' she begged. 'Please do it.'

Heather obliged with a series of increasingly urgent stokes, getting at least as much satisfaction from the pony as she was giving out. And oh, that pony! It was rubbing her G-spot relentlessly.

'Harder,' Maxi urged. 'Deeper! Faster!'

Keeping pace with her was always a challenge. Fortunately Hev loved challenges. She plunged in as deep as she could, as hard as she dared and as fast as humanly possible.

Maxi showed every last sign of fervent enjoyment. Heather took every moan, groan, yelp and sigh as an endorsement. If she could have gone any faster she certainly would have. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Maxi was cumming. Holding herself back by perhaps supernatural willpower, Heather went on, bringing the supposedly butch girl off three more times.