Art for Art's Sake

Somehow, remembering her lover's patience and tenderness, Angie restrained herself. Unfastening the lacy black bra she lavished attention on Miss Pearce's breasts, increasingly excited when already hard nipples grew harder still between her lips.

Then she shifted lower and kissed the hazel-brown gemstone in Miss Pearce's navel. Realizing she'd forgotten something, she licked cleanly shaven armpits awhile before moving up to kiss Miss Pearce's silver nose piercing. The teacher's eyes matched the stone in her bellybutton; just then they were full of lust.

'Oh yes,' she sighed. 'Oh Angie Baby, you're so beautiful.'

Resisting the urge to snort again, Angie kissed her way down a deliciously sweaty, trembling body.

I'm exciting her, she thought. Flipping heck, she's nearly as excited as I am!

Miss Pearce raised her bum off the bed unasked, easing the removal of her panties. Angie gasped at the beauty below. She knew she'd find a hair-free pussy but hadn't expected it to look quite as good as it did. And she certainly hadn't expected the butterfly tattoo.

The smell of sex was overwhelming, filling the air with pheromones. Aroused by it, Angie kissed the tattoo then ran her tongue up Miss Pearce's folds, onto her clitoris.

'Oh yes,' she moaned. 'Oh Angie Baby, yes, yes please.'

Angie didn't need asking twice. She launched a direct clit assault, using her tongue tip to lash it and to roll it, bringing forth a torrent of tiny yelps and groans. Taking the first, almost instantaneous orgasm as encouragement, she kept going and brought her fingers into play. Using two of them, she probed as deeply as she could, not even thinking about G-spots, concentrating solely on rhythm.

And Miss Pearce responded. Her lower body was moving in time with her, dancing along with Angie's tune. She was very hot in there and flowing like a river. Soon she started cumming and didn't seem to be able to stop. As well as pheromones the air was suddenly filled with moans, gasps and the tiniest of screams.

Suddenly Angie had to taste that flow. Moving of its own accord her tongue drew a straight line down a quivering slit and replaced her fingers, pushing in until it was straining at its roots.

Miss Pearce came immediately, contracting hard around her, simultaneously gushing all over her chin and chest.

She tasted of apples and honey.

She tasted divine.

Angie withdrew her tongue and lapped up juice from every wet surface she could find. Inside she was glowing and not so far away from cumming herself. The feeling of bringing a fellow female off was just as good as it had been before. Indeed it only ever got better. She wanted to do it again and again.

So she did.

Chapter Four

Angie never did get that Friday night glass of wine. Instead they stayed in bed, taking turns to top and bottom, mastering at least sixty-nine different sixty-nine positions and a couple of basic ways to trib.

Yes, not only was it the most important Friday in living memory, it was far and away the best.

There were no incriminations afterwards. Miss Pearce reminded Angie she didn't do relationships and that they had to stay secret. Then, grinning broadly, she assured her tonight wasn't a one-off and that some of her non-relationships had lasted for years.

'You'll be off to university in September,' she said. 'We can meet on the QT until then, surely. And if we do occasionally hook up again afterwards, by then it won't matter, will it?'

'Do you mean afterwards we can be out of the closest, going out on dates and that?

'Yes I do. Not all the time but now and again, when you're visiting home. You can sneak in an extra night and sleep with me.'

From that signal Friday a pattern emerged. They would spend two nights a week in the teacher's bed, when Angie was supposed to be at the youth club or some party or other. Not that she ever stayed all night. No, she would arrive at Miss Pearce's between six and seven and they'd fuck until two the next morning. Then Miss Pearce would drive Angie home so she'd be tucked up in her own bed before her mum got back from work.

And the things they got up to! That first Tuesday was declared Body Painting Day. Miss Pearce had a large supply of water-based paints and used them to transform Angie's body, covering every last inch with colourful designs. Then, while Angie was still a painted lady, she'd fucked her with a dildo.

Make that hard and very, very skilfully.

How good was that! Bobby must have fucked Angie with his real cock at least twenty times without ever making her cum. It took Miss Pearce perhaps two minutes to set her off with her artificial one.

And once she'd set her off, Miss Pearce hadn't stopped for hours and hours.

Not that Angie always thought of her lover as "Miss Pearce" outside of school. No, she was only Miss Pearce when she was the active partner. In that role she was very much the authoritarian, giving out orders such as "Take off your clothes", "Open your legs" and (most often of all) "Cum for me".

When Angie was the active partner her lover was "Veronica". The lady in question didn't like the name but somehow it suited her when she was being fucked. Angie didn't know why, precisely, but believed it seemed sexy yet compliant.

The rest of the time, when they were engaged in mutual acts or simply pillow-talking, the teacher was "Ronnie". She liked that name and insisted Angie used nothing else when they were alone together. Angie played along with that and did her best to limit unintentional lapses (not always easy when she was carried away getting fucked or fucking!).

And amazingly enough, she was already doing more fucking than being fucked. Miss Pearce was slowly but certainly been usurped by Veronica.

Not that anyone was complaining.

Apart from weekends their non-relationship was definitely a very good one. But Ronnie had a sideline in painting landscapes and seascapes which she sold through a network of small shops and galleries. To do this she spent her weekends in more scenic places, most of them in the Peak District. And she seemed to have a "friend" in every town.

'Girlfriends mostly,' she told Angie. 'But there is the odd man knocking about. And they are all glad to put me up, if you know what I mean.'

'You do men as well?' Angie raised her eyebrows at the very idea.

'Mother Nature gave me a pussy designed to take a man. I feel obliged to use it that way every now and then. Only with guys I can trust, mind. Mother Nature also gave me a rather large appetite. That's not true with most men I've ever known. And that's one of the reasons why I prefer girls.'

'Let me get this straight: when you're away you stay with one friend or other on the Saturday night. And instead of paying board you sleep with them.'

'Yes, but it's not as tacky as you make it sound. Most of my friends go back to my university days. I've slept with them all before and want to keep on sleeping with them, even if it only is for one night every few months.'

Angie didn't like the arrangement but Mother Nature had given her a rather large appetite too. Seeing as Ronnie was her only outlet right then she accepted the way things were.

It's her hippy past, she told herself. It's the way she is.

*****

Her new love life severely dented Angie's attendance record at eighteenth birthday parties. She found it surprising she still got invites because, by the end of February, she must have blobbed on ten if not more occasions. Unlike most parties, however, Ade's was on a Saturday. And, with Ronnie spending the weekend with Sam in Hathersage, there was no reason not to go.

(Angie never did find out if "Sam" was a Samuel or a Samantha; Ronnie hadn't volunteered and she hadn't wanted to ask.)

Never a girl with a wide circle of friends, Angie was used to turning up at functions on her own so she wasn't fazed by being unaccompanied at Ade's. Following the old routine she simply marched up to the bar and, damning the expense, ordered a pint of Guinness. Then she looked around to see what was what and if there was anyone worth talking to.

The first person she saw was Bobby, sitting at a table beside the dance floor, talking to Abigail. She felt no envy at all at the sight, even though popular opinion had it that Abigail had stolen Bobby from her. No, if anything she felt grateful.

Omigod, if it wasn't for Abigail I'd probably still be fucking him to this day.

Yuk, what a waste!

Sandra was sitting a couple of tables away from Bobby, deep in conversation with a hunky white guy. Sensing eyes on her she looked up, recognized Angie and smiled. Two seconds later the hunky white guy was deep in conversation with himself and Sandra had joined the new arrival at the bar.

'Angie Baby,' she crooned, 'I thought I'd never see you at a party again!'

'I thought I'd show my ugly mug,' Angie replied.

'Stop putting yourself down, duck. It doesn't suit you.' Sandra batted her lovely long lashes before adding in a low, confidential tone: 'Am I seeing a girl alone or is your significant other here too?'

'Yes and no. I'm alone and she's away for the weekend.'

'Then you're not leaving until I've had my dances. By my reckoning you owe me a month's worth.'

'I'm the world's worst dancer,' Angie warned. 'I've got two left feet and they keep tripping over each other.'

'Don't worry, duck, I'll be holding you tight so you won't fall. Now then, what are you drinking? It's that wonderful black stuff isn't it? I think I'll join you. It matches my skin and tastes even better.'

Angie stared at the girl, wondering at her political correctness.

'I can say that,' Sandra said, 'I can say anything if it's true.'

She ordered two more pints while Angie finished her first.

'Cheers,' Angie said accepting the refill. 'Er, aren't you getting your date one?'

'Richard's not my date,' Sandra laughed. 'He was just angling for a return visit into my knickers. And doing very well, I must admit. But then I saw you and his chances evaporated. Poof, just like that!'

'You can't just ditch him.'

'It was his round next so I'm doing him a favour, saving him money. He'll get over it, big bruiser that he is.'

Richard captained the school rugby team. He was freckled and good-looking in a rugged sort of a way and yes, he was already moving in on a tableful of girls, most of them glad to see him.

'He's been in your knickers, has he?' Angie asked.

'More than once but that's all you're getting. You won't tell me about your conquests, so why should I tell you about mine?'

The next couple of hours flew by. Angie was amazed by the number of guys who approached Sandra, asking for dances and being politely refused. The only one who managed to get a single turn around the floor was Ade, and only then because it was his party.

And wasn't she a sight as she danced; short brown leather skirt and bare black legs gleaming under the lights of the disco. It wasn't only the guys whose eyes were glued on her; Angie was sure of that!

'Just one dance for his birthday,' she said when Sandra returned for yet more Guinness.

'I'm saving me for you,' Sandra replied, still brazenly flirting.

'I'm sort of attached,' Angie objected, trying not to think of Ronnie clinching with Sam . . . and trying not to wonder if Sam had a cock and, if so, whether it was currently thrusting in and out of Ronnie.

Making Ronnie scream and beg for more.

'Your mysterious mistress is elsewhere,' Sandra replied. 'I'm here and now, duck. And you owe me.'

'I may owe you a dance,' said Angie. 'But you'll only be sorry when I've trampled your feet.'

'It's too late for protests. My mind's made up. As soon as those slow songs start we're on that floor.'

And that was exactly how it happened. Angie hadn't been joking about having two left feet but Sandra patently didn't care. Perhaps two inches shorter, she immediately stepped into the "woman's role" and immediately took control.

Angie simply had to be impressed. Sandra had long legs so down there they were groin-to-groin, hip-to-hip. And the beautiful black girl was steering her, keeping her in the same small patch of floor and out of danger of collisions.

Their upper body contact was great too. Sandra had very nice, medium-sized tits. The small height difference meant hers were sort of below but still against Angie's. And her nips rivalled Angie's when it came to hardness. When it came to hardness they must have had two of the most diamond-like pairs ever recorded.

Then Sandra whispered her first husky sweet nothing into Angie's ear.

'I want to shag with you,' she murmured.

That wasn't an easy one to answer. Although the music was slow it wasn't very quiet and Angie might have misheard. She also had Ronnie to consider . . . Ronnie who most likely was fucking at that very moment . . . or being thoroughly fucked.

And Sandra was supposedly straight. Every guy on the planet lusted after her. She'd had countless boyfriends and had admitted Richard had been in her knickers . . . more than once.

But she was here and now, duck. And Angie owed her.

Well, didn't she?

When Sandra inclined her face, their bodies still pressed cosily together . . .

No red-blooded woman could have resisted.

Angie kissed her.

Bliss or what! Half a dozen pints of Guinness and Sandra's mouth still tasted like nectar. Darting and very daring, her tongue fought duels with Angie's. Diamond-like nipples rubbed just as diamond-like nipples. Without pausing for thought Angie's hands gripped the world's sexiest, most shapely ass.

Sandra responded by moving her groin against Angie's. It was a parody of tribbing yet near enough to start an adrenalin rush. Introducing Angie to tribbing had been one of Miss Pearce's greatest gifts.

Except Miss Pearce wasn't there and Sandra was.

'I want to shag with you,' Sandra repeated. 'I want to shag with you here and now.'

Chapter Five

At least an hour of slow dancing flew by. Angie knew their schoolmates must have copped them being more than merely friendly. They would be the talk of the sixth form on Monday but she honestly didn't care. And Sandra very obviously cared even less.

'I'll walk you home,' she said when the DJ announced that was it for the night.

'Yours is nearer than mine,' Angie countered practically. 'So I'll walk you home.'

'Fair enough, but I still want to shag with you.'

Sandra lived in one of the city's more exclusive areas. Her relatively newly-built home was maybe ten minutes from Angie's outlying village. So it made sense for the two of them to leave the party together but that did not stop a million knowing glances as they left hand-in-hand.

'Your reputation is shot at,' Angie said, as soon as they were out of hearing range.

'I'm well-known as a whore. Me hitching up with you won't surprise anyone.'

'No way are you known as a whore.'

'Richard's not the only guy who's been there, duck. Know what I mean?'

'Well I've never heard a bad word about you. I've only ever heard positive things.'

'Hopefully you'll still be saying that after you've shagged me. Like tomorrow morning, when you get asked all about it.'

Angie spluttered at that. Even knowing what Ronnie was most likely up to, she felt loyalty.

'I don't know if I can,' she managed. 'Not that I don't want to,' she added hastily. 'It's just that . . .'

'You're sort of attached,' Sandra finished for her. 'I appreciate that. I respect that.'

'Okay, as long as that's established.'

'It is. But I still want to shag with you, and not at some far-off future date.'

'There's nowhere to go,' said Angie, conveniently "forgetting" her home was mother and father-free for another couple of hours.

'We can kiss though.' Sandra stopped in her tracks, surprisingly strong, pulling Angie to face her.

They were currently in more or less open countryside. If it had been July Angie could very easily have been dragged into a field and ravaged . . . or maybe she could have done some ravaging of her own. But it was February and a wet one at that, so fields were out.

Admiring Sandra's height and figure, convinced she had a thing about tall, athletic women, Angie only had to stoop slightly to reunite their lips.

Bliss; kissing Sandra was bliss.

Screw Ronnie. Concentrate on the present. Ronnie was off fucking around so what did a kiss matter?

In the greater scheme of things a kiss didn't matter one whit.

So Angie went for it.

And Sandra responded by grabbing her tits. Externally at first then, when Angie grunted her version of encouragement through her nose, she progressed.

Suddenly Sandra's hand was inside Angie's sweatshirt. Then it was slowly sliding up her flat belly and onto her big unfettered breast before quite viciously squeezing it.

Angie came instantly.

Even more encouraged, Sandra squeezed her other breast.

Angie came so hard she almost passed out.

'Fuck me, yes,' she gasped.

'No,' Sandra countered, her lips against Angie's ear, her voice lower and huskier than ever. 'You fuck me. Fuck me now.'

Angie had never heard Sandra swear before but didn't hesitate. The lovely black girl's bare thigh was smooth as silk and ten times as sexy. Edging up into her leather skirt was easy as pie. And her words certainly helped the progress.

'Yes, yes, yes,' she murmured. 'Do it, please. Please do it.'

If the front of Sandra's thigh was smooth then the inside was . . .

Was . . .

Well it was beyond compare. Totally breathless, Angie ran her fingers along the joint between leg and groin. Sandra's panties were damp and the flesh beneath was hotter than hot.

'Yes, yes, yes,' she reiterated. 'Do it, please. Please do it.'

Omigod, Angie thought, I can do it for her too. I can do it for any woman, anywhere on earth!

Touching Sandra's pussy was an incredible experience. She had a thin patch of short, crinkly hair (a landing strip, Angie supposed) but was otherwise clean-shaven. Finding her clit was no problem at all. Neither was finding the mouth of her hungry vagina.

'Yes, yes, yes,' she urged. 'Do me, do me, do me!'

Even at close quarters their interaction was astounding. Angie desperately wanted to get her tongue in there but they were at the roadside, vulnerable to passing motorists and police patrols. So she held control and did what she had to do. And in her own estimation she did it well. By then something of an expert, she used her thumb on Sandra's clitoris while poking two rigid fingers inside her.

'Yes, yes, yes,' Sandra almost screamed. 'Do me, do me, DO ME!!'

Throughout all this both of Sandra's hands had been in Angie's sweatshirt. She'd squeezed almost as hard on Angie's tits as she'd squeezed elsewhere with more intimate muscles.

Then, after her billionth cum, she changed tactics. Suddenly she was undoing Angie's jeans.

Suddenly she was rubbing Angie's pussy, not penetrating but giving it the most amazing friction.

Angie came half a dozen times: bam, bam, bam!

Each was better than the last and Number Six totally drained her.

'Enough,' she gasped. 'My God, Sandra, what are you trying to do to me?'

Leaning against each other, still at the mercy of passing motorists, they struggled for breath.

'I'm yours, duck,' Sandra confided. 'I know you're committed but you can have me anytime. And I still want to shag with you more than ever.'

'I think we just did shag,' said Angie.

Sandra took hold of Angie's hand, raising it to her mouth before very deliberately sucking her fingers.

'Like blood brothers,' she said.

Angie watched as Sandra sucked her own fingers.

'Blood sisters, more like,' she said.

'We're bonded forever,' Sandra countered. 'We just have to do it for real.'

'For real,' Angie echoed, laughing. 'I don't have any bones in my legs and my knees are jelly.'

Sandra was silent a moment (quite an event in itself!). 'I'm not a virgin,' she said finally. 'Not when it comes to guys. You're my first girl, though. And haven't I started off at the top of the food chain!'