Another One Bites The Dust

'You guys need to head off,' she'd said. 'We'll fool about in the bath while you go. I have to be with my teammates at a time like this.'

'Teammates,' Suzanne snorted as she drove out of the football car park. 'I bet they're all frigging each other in that frigging bath.'

'I'd frig Christine,' Angie offered, less than helpfully. 'I bet she'd be up for it tonight. And I'm prepared to bet Lucy would be too, come to that.'

'They're both straighter than straight.'

'So says she with eyes only for one girl.'

Suzanne was uncharacteristically quiet for a while. Then, perhaps three miles down the road home, she took an unannounced right turn.

'Let's go find Maid Marian,' she said, answering Angie's unspoken question.

Angie's heart was doing strange things. Blood was pounding through her, and not just in her temples.

'I don't think Maid Marian does Wednesday evenings,' she ventured.

'I do,' Suzanne replied.

*****

The going steadily deteriorated as the "forest" steadily thickened. Leaving dual carriageway for slight woodland they were soon on an unkempt road surrounded by trees. Another turn and they were on a track under a canopy. And then the track became exactly that: no more than two worn ruts with a line of sorry-for-itself grass growing between them.

'We're lost,' said Angie.

'No we're not. I have an aunt who lives round here. I know this bit of country like the back of my hand.'

'What is she, a witch who lives in a hut in a clearing?'

'No, she's a witch who lives in a nearby village. I still know the area, though.'

'So where are Robin and his merry men?

Suzanne took yet another turn, this time into an even rougher track; one which dead-ended in dense woodland after less than twenty yards.

'Screw Maid Marian,' she said, switching off the engine. 'Let's get in the back.'

Angie had mentally rehearsed what she might do if Suzanne made a move. When it came to pass she simply climbed into the backseat. And then, with her last reserves of propriety, she made a limp effort at being reluctant.

'What about Liz and Sandra?'

'They're currently frigging in a bathtub. Stuff them; what they don't know can't hurt them.'

'I don't know if I can.'

'Trust me, Ange. You can. And I certainly can, even if you can't.'

'But it's still daylight.'

'That makes it all the better, doesn't it? I want to see as well as feel.'

'What if anyone finds out?'

'What if you stop bleating and give me a kiss?'

Kissing Suzanne was crazily good. Angie's already scrambled brain stopped the analysis and did a bit of serious enjoying instead.

Well, it tried to enjoy but questions still remained.

Why did every new lover seem better than the last?

Why was furtively making out in the back of a borrowed car more exciting than wantonly fucking in a double bed?

Why had she forgotten all about Sandra and Miss Pearce?

And why were her knickers wetter than wet?

Suzanne's hands were predictably busy. By the time Angie decided to drop the cool kissing sort of an approach they were gripping her tits through her T-shirt. By the time she began sucking on Suzanne's tongue they were inside the fabric, gripping bare flesh.

Angie's tits had always been responsive. Having hands on them sent shockwaves down through her body, straight into the core of her. Within moments she came. Then, when Suzanne kept kissing and gripping, she came again . . . and again and again.

Enthusiastic as ever, Suzanne grasped the hem of Angie's T. Rather than tugging it off she rolled it up so it was above her exposed tits.

'Delightful,' she murmured before getting her face in there.

'Oh my God, yes,' Angie endorsed.

Space was at a premium on the backseat, not that either of them complained about close quarters.

'Yes, yes, yes,' groaned Angie as her latest new lover kissed, sucked, nibbled and gnawed.

Suzanne was tireless. Her admiration had clearly not been exaggerated.

'Yes, yes, yes,' Angie repeated. 'Fuck me, yes!'

Perhaps Suzanne took that as an instruction. Or perhaps she'd decided to move things along anyway. Whatever, her hands were suddenly working lower down, popping the button on Angie's jeans before unzipping her zip.

'Help me here,' she said, momentarily removing her lips from Angie's diamond-hard nips.

Angie obediently lifted her bum off of the seat. Two seconds later her jeans and panties were around her ankles, only held even remotely in place by her boots.

Fuck my old boots, she thought, laughing insanely.

'Your tit-work's good,' she said aloud, in-between genuine gasps. 'But I need more.'

Her hands closed on Suzanne's shoulders and, gently at first, began to push.

Suzanne seemed loath to go but, after a couple of final chews, she slid downwards.

And glad to report, her pussy-work was even better.

Chapter Four

Being eaten was great but Angie was starting to find her vocation. She could remember snooping on Suzanne and Liz in the not-too-distant past. Suzanne had been the receiver on that occasion. Okay, it might have been a one-off, but Suzy had definitely relished Liz's enthusiastic servicing.

Relished? No, the girl had patently loved it.

And Angie definitely relished servicing a girl.

'Pants off,' she commanded, pulling Suzanne's head away from her honeypot.

Suzanne didn't hesitate. Gasping for air, totally up for it, she had the sense to kick away her Nikes before unfastening her jeans and deftly denuding the bottom half of her body.

Angie nearly swooned at the sight. Up until then she'd only had close acquaintance with two pussies and thought she was in love with both of them. But this one belonged on an ancient Greek statue.

Or would she think that about every pussy? Was she literally pussy-struck, hopelessly at the mercy of every new one that strutted along?

Not that she really took time to consider the ins and outs . . . at least not all the philosophical ins and outs, anyway.

With generous use of tongue and two fingers of both hands, she gradually brought Suzanne to climax and then skilfully kept her there, maybe not quite multiply but definitely not just occasionally.

Controlling her like that was ace. Orgasmic in her own right, Angie really got off on seeing and feeling Suzanne cum and cum. And the more Suzanne came, the more orgasmic she got.

Fab deal or what!

*****

A timeless time later Angie slid back upwards. She relished the feel of her tits on Suzanne's bare legs and tummy. She relished the feel of them on Suzanne's noticeably damp T-shirt too.

Most of all she relished the feel of their groins pressing together. Hers was shaven with a number one guard, just like her head. Suzanne's was bare apart from a short neat triangle just over the very gates of heaven.

Cramped and at an odd angle across the seat, they were in prime position;

'Let's fuck,' said Angie, trying for seductive, possibly failing miserably . . . or possibly not.

'Oh yes,' Suzanne said eagerly. 'Yes, yes please.'

Thanks to her secret older woman, Angie was experienced at tribbing. Presumably thanks to Liz, so too was Suzanne. Without needing to be asked the reddish-blonde repositioned her sexy ass. Being as she was, unrestricted by jeans and Docs, she was able to spread out wide.

'Come on, Ange,' she said. 'Fuck me.'

Angie moved tentatively at first, trying to get perfect measure for both of them. In response Suzanne groaned and then flexed her legs up against the car's roof. Suddenly the mouths of their vaginas were kissing.

It was warm, wet and the best sensation ever.

Conscious she was supposed to be the donor, Angie began to move on a vertical plane. Down a little, so her hood was under Suzanne's hot, wet mouth, and then slowly up, crossing it a few millimetres at a time. Onwards and still slowly upwards, her hood leading the way between Suzy's sweet parted lips, along her folds and tantalizingly over her clit. And higher upwards still, enjoying every microsecond of everything.

Suzanne responded with yelps and screams. Angie knew exactly where she was coming from. Within moments she came, damning herself for it, certain Suzanne should have been first. But not stopping, pressing on, their wetness merging, their nerve-endings twanging together.

'I'm gonna cum,' Suzanne wailed.

'Not yet,' Angie grunted.

On and on they went; yelps and screams merged now, both of them closer than close but reluctant to yield.

'I'm gonna cum,' Suzanne repeated.

'Two ticks,' Angie grunted. 'Two ticks and I'll be there with you.'

'Two ticks . . .'

'That's it . . . Now, Suzy!'

Suzanne didn't need telling twice. She let go and they contracted together. A choreographer couldn't have timed it better. Nor could she/he have stopped their bodies' near-death throes. Even in the very heights of ecstasy they continued to clash and writhe and contort.

And they continued to yelp, cry out and scream. Their vocal release wasn't so far behind the starburst of physical joy.

*****

Angie became aware of the knocking when she finally stopped soaring and began to float back down to earth. Assuming it was her or Suzanne juddering against some car part, she initially ignored it.

Then she saw her lover's eyes widen.

'Oh shit,' said Suzanne. 'It's the Sheriff of Nottingham.'

Looking over her shoulder Angie saw that was a half-truth. It wasn't the actual Sheriff but it was one of his modern-day henchmen. A uniformed policeman was rapping on the window directly behind her.

'Okay sonny boy,' he said, 'your fun is over. Get out of the car.'

Only mildly annoyed by being mistaken for a bloke Angie lifted herself off Suzanne, giving the cop an eyeful of tit and pussy in the process. Expressionless, he had the decency to turn away, but only after he'd seen what needed to be seen.

Getting her jeans and panties back into position wasn't so easy. Unrolling her T was a relative cinch. Somehow, clumsily, she prevailed. Satisfied she was as respectable as she was likely to be, Angie got out of the car, leaving Suzanne mostly naked and scrabbling for her socks.

'And you are?' the policeman asked, looking her up and down.

Angie gave him her name and home town without offering an address. He nodded and didn't bother taking notes. 'Is this your vehicle?'

'No, it's Suzanne's.'

'Is that Suzanne pulling her knickers up?'

'Yes.'

'Okay. Go sit in there.' He pointed down the dead-end track which was now blocked by a patrol car.

The cop didn't need to tell Angie not to make a run for it. They were trapped and her legs had rubber bands in them anyway. Maybe it was the sex or maybe it was fear.

Exposed, she thought as she trudged towards the police jam sandwich. What the fuck is everybody going to say when this gets out!

There was a female officer in the front seat. Her short hair was so blonde it was almost white and her attitude issues were immediately obvious. While Angie let herself into the back she just sat and stared rigidly forward.

Worried as she was, Angie decided it wasn't the right time to try to make friends.

What's Liz going to think? she wondered. And Sandra's going to hit the roof!

After two or three minutes of silence the policewoman turned in her seat, her dismissive gaze insulting in any language. 'So what's your excuse?' she said. 'Couldn't he keep it in his pants?'

In other circumstances Angie would have laughed. The guy had mistaken her for "sonny boy" and the gal assumed she'd been getting a manly shafting.

Ironic, wasn't it?

'He's a she,' she said as innocently as she could. 'She doesn't have anything in her pants. Well, not the sort of anything you mean, anyway.'

Blondie tutted loudly and then reverted to silence, her glacier-like eyes strictly facing forward again.

Angie glanced back up the track to see a fully dressed Suzanne and the arresting officer approaching. Suzanne was speaking to him but he had a radio transmitter to his ear and didn't seem to be listening.

Following the cop's signal Suzanne got in the back. As she pulled the door shut Angie saw there were no internal handles; the door could easily be tugged closed but only reopened from outside.

How unfair, she thought. We're being treated like we're Bonnie and Clyde. No, make that Thelma and Louise!

'Oops,' said Suzanne.

'Oops indeed,' Angie agreed.

Chapter Five

The two police officers left their prisoners in the back of the car and had a consultation about twenty yards away, beside an oak tree, well out of range of hearing.

'We're doomed,' said Angie. 'What is the penalty for fucking in public anyway? Is it transportation or straight execution? And will we be humiliated before our peers first?'

'Fret ye not,' said Suzanne. 'Those two aren't going to arrest us. I've got their measure.'

'That's why we're locking in the back of a police car, is it?'

'Trust me, Angie; I've got a good feeling about this. Dave won't let us down.'

'Dave?'

'That male cop. He's on our side.'

'You could have fooled me. And how do you know he's called Dave?'

'He asked my name so I asked his. And it's Polish or Ukrainian or something. When I asked him to repeat it he said to just call him Dave.'

'Hmmm, I thought you didn't like blokes.'

'I don't, but needs must, eh? And shush, here he comes.'

Leaving the policewoman at the tree Dave got into the patrol car, kneeling on the passenger seat so he could see both his captives at once.

'My partner's not afraid of paperwork,' he began. 'She wants to throw the book at you. She reckons we have you for Outraging Public Decency and Exposure if nothing else. And there is the very real possibility of long sentences on both of those offences.'

'Do you mean sentences as in prison?' said Angie.

'Yes, I do.'

'That's insane,' Suzanne said hotly. 'She's picking on us because we're lezzies.'

'It's all about decency and exposure,' he replied calmly, 'not sexual persuasion.'

'My arse it is. She can't accept that there isn't any age restriction on lesbians in this country, so she's relying on technicalities.'

'Suzy,' said Angie, concerned her friend was about to talk them ever deeper into the mire.

But Suzanne wasn't for heeding. 'They're revising the male age of gay consent,' she went on. 'That dates back to Victorian times. But good old Queen Vic didn't believe us girls could have sex together, so our carte blanche has gone on and on. Yet your partner . . .'

'Enough,' Dave snapped. 'Listen to me or I'll arrest you for being a pain in the arris, never mind some technicality that doesn't exist.'

Thankfully, Suzanne canned it . . . for the time being.

'Thank you,' Dave resumed. 'Now here's how it is. The law makes a big deal out of "possibilities". In other words, nobody should have outdoor sex in broad daylight when there's the possibility of being seen by two or more persons. Or in pitch black, for that matter.'

'We're in the middle of nowhere,' Suzanne retorted. 'Okay, so it is broad daylight, but who is around to see us? And what are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be setting speed traps to catch people doing forty-two in a forty mile zone?'

'Shouldn't you have waited until after dark?' Dave responded.

'It was sort of spontaneous,' Angie offered before Suzanne could screw things even further. 'We don't have lots of opportunities.'

Dave nodded. 'Me,' he said, 'I hate paperwork. And I'm conscious that this is an isolated spot. I'm also conscious that only one person saw what you were doing. So I'm prepared to let it go.'

'Thank you, officer,' Angie said quickly, her fingernails deep into Suzanne's palm to hopefully keep her mouth shut. 'We'll never do it again in daylight. Or in a car anywhere, come to that.'

He nodded then opened the rear doors for them. 'Vamoose,' he said, 'before I get over-ruled.'

They made it back to Mum's car in double-quick time. Then, showing off considerable driving skills, Suzanne reversed the length of the dead-end track. The patrol car had pulled back to give her room so, showing off even more skills, she deftly turned and headed for the main road.

Neither of the police officers waved them farewell.

'We nicked their spot,' Suzanne said as they rounded a corner, out of line of sight.

'What?'

'Think about it, Ange. They weren't patrolling this stretch, were they? They were out for a bit of extra-curricular nooky. I bet they do it out here this time every evening.'

'I think you're wildly jumping to conclusions.'

'Did you see the look on Sour Puss's face? That was a girl going without. And it was all thanks to us.'

Angie supposed her friend might have a point. 'So we got away with it,' she said. 'Whew, wasn't that a narrow escape!'

'I want more,' said Suzanne, eyes on the road and as sincere-sounding as heck.

'We're running late as it is,' Angie protested.

'I don't mean more now, I mean more soon, and somewhere where we're not likely to be disturbed.'

Angie hesitated. She was at a tipping point, she realized.

'What about Liz,' she asked eventually, 'and what about Sandra?'

'Sandra knows you have another girlfriend.' Suzanne laughed. 'The whole school knows; we just don't know who she is. But Sand's cool with it. So why should one more matter?'

Chewing that over didn't help Angie much. Yes, Sandra did know she had another lover. And yes, that lover's identity was secret. But Sandra was second in line, wasn't she? She'd been aware someone else was in the equation all along. She'd been aware and happy to accept. A third lover was different, though, wasn't it?

And never mind Sandra's feelings, what about Liz's?

'Liz would go ballistic,' Angie said flatly.

'She would, but only if she finds out. And you're good at secrets, aren't you? Why should she ever find out?'

Angie recalled the feel of Suzanne's clit under her tongue. She tried to tell herself to reign in but her brain wasn't listening. Tipping point? Okay, so she tipped.

'My parents work nights,' she said. 'Well, Mum works most of the night. I have the house to myself on more occasions than not. You could call round, I suppose.'

'Does Sandra call round?' Suzanne's eyes were suddenly off the track. 'Is that why she's always got a big goofy grin on her face?'

'It has been known. And look where you're driving, for God's sake!'

Suzanne concentrated on her driving again . . . more or less. 'Are we talking all night here . . . all night in a real bed?'

'We're talking up until say three in the morning. You can arrive at any time you like after seven. And it's my single bed . . . because of the implications as regards sheet-washing.'

'Fucking hell, Ange, you sound as if you've been doing it forever.'

'Not forever; just often enough. And I'm not proposing forever with you. We're both committed. A one-off night is all I'm offering. Are you interested?'

'Angie Baby, I'm there in my dreams already!'