Charley Torn Pt. 02


Whilst they amused themselves, we removed each other's bras and Georgia pressed herself hard against me. Each of her magnificent mounds had a little hard penis attached which pressed into my tender mammaries. Painful is the default setting for my breasts, especially when I'm up the duff and they had already grown into two pale balloons, each with a mosaic of pale blue veins. Georgia's remained works of art. Georgia is slightly taller than me, but I have proportionally longer legs, so my convex belly moulded perfectly into her concave midriff. They say opposites attract; her tanned and gorgeous, me pasty and dowdy, but we both still had swimmer's muscular backs and shoulders and I loved to feel the hard knots twist and relax beneath her satin skin. I also loved the feel of her buttocks beneath the silk of her designer knickers. Cautiously I pushed the filmy garment down, terrified of tearing it. It cost as much as most of my knicker drawer combined. I did not begrudge the Goddess her indulgences. She stepped out of her undies and sank to her knees, removing my thong in a fluid motion.

Fred Astaire had warmed up thoroughly and performed a magnificent solo routine on the dance floor that was my bald pubic mound, still smooth and unwrinkled and oh so sensitive. Georgia pulled down on my hips and my knees slowly buckled as my legs spread. I can do that really slowly, whereas Georgia tends to collapse in a heap. Soon I was straddling her face and Fred had shot up my vagina. I gasped. Georgia was only doing this because she had been really bad. Only I just couldn't recall what she had done. My mouth was full of saliva and Ginger was quite indignant that Fred was having all the fun.

I did a quick flip, lowered by fanny back onto Georgia's tongue and set about worshipping her. With my fingers, I parted the temple gates and sniffed the special aroma of my lover. The Goddess. Her erect clitoris was poking out from under its hood and I sucked on it hard, whilst slipping two fingers into her tight box. Muffled squeals came from between my thighs. My pelvic floor was slowly tightening and Georgia's pubic mound started to bang against my nose. I was nearly there, when she let go and panted.

"Please, Charley. Arse."

She resumed her assault on my pleasure button and I slid two fingers into Georgia's anus and set about finger fucking both her orifices. As usual I came first and had to lift my pelvis, as my clitoris had become exquisitely tender. Georgia was the Goddess of Multiple Orgasms. I flipped her onto her front and her bottom shot into the air as she screamed into the carpet. Five minute later her knees gave way and she went limp. My fingers slipped out and I rushed into the bathroom, before Georgia could recover enough to demand a suck. Shitty fingers make me heave. Fish fingers aren't much better.

By the time I had emerged from my daydream, I was at the checkout. I had a full trolley, although no recollection of filling it up. It had to be mine, as it had my son perched in the back. I loaded up the belt and pushed the trolley through to the loading end. I looked up at the checkout girl. We both froze. It was Lauren, the ridiculously young looking girl who Georgia had traumatised. She was very pretty, with curly red hair pulled back in a pony. Her skin was like alabaster. Ten seconds later, it was like beetroot. I was aware that my own face was probably the same colour. I had consciously avoided her checkout, for the previous few months, even if it involved joining a longer queue.

"Hi," I squeaked.

The girl looked left and right, like a startled deer. She finally relaxed a bit.

"Hi. You're on your own. Well obviously not on your own. I mean your friend isn't here. Is she?"

"No, she's not very well," I stammered. The girl went out of focus as I teared up again. I managed to avoid further eye contact as I packed my bags and finally paid for my shopping. Lauren did not wish Georgia a speedy recovery.

Visiting started at two. I was in two minds about taking Thomas. Hospital rules said no children except the patient's own. Well Georgia was his mum too. My biggest fear was that she would refuse to see me, so I rang my neighbour, Trish. She was happy to have Thomas for the afternoon and give him his tea. Trish and I had gone to antenatal classes together and Thomas loved playing with Jessica, Trish's scarily precocious daughter.

Trish shot me a concerned look, when I rushed Thomas around to her house. I was clearly not looking my best and I did not have the energy to lie about Georgia's ectopic. Trish was immune to Gorgeousness and had even accused the Goddess of having an affair with her husband. She pecked me on my cheek and gave me the worst look of all.


I strode purposefully to the station and just caught the one O'clock train. I was at the doors to the gynae ward by two. Tarquin had been too quiet for the previous twelve hours and was now compensating by kicking under my ribs. I could feel a wave of panic building. I stopped and slowly rubbed my tummy, mentally imagining the wave which broke harmlessly offshore.

I walked to the nurses' desk, my heart in my mouth. A young nurse looked up at me and smiled. I finally found my voice.

"I...I...I'm Charley. I've come to see Georgia Clarke."

"Of course. Sister warned me that you weren't very well yesterday. Your partner is in room 4. I'll take you."

I have never been a confident lesbian, always expecting abuse. The nurse opened the door and stood aside. She ushered me over to a comfy chair and left us alone. Georgia was sat up in bed, a bag of blood attached by a tube to her left wrist. She again looked small and vulnerable. I sat down next to my errant lover, kissed her on the cheek and then hugged her. She started to cry, which opened my flood gates.



I had slept badly. My tummy and shoulders hurt a lot. The nurses kindly offered me painkillers. I tried to be strong, after all pain was well deserved. I quickly accepted the offer. I am not very good with pain. Charley, in contrast gave birth at home without as much as a sniff of gas and air.

I woke with a terrible feeling of impending doom. My guilt was overwhelming. I have never regretted anything as much, in my whole life. The ward sister came in to my room.

"Morning Miss Clarke, I have brought you some more pain killers. We need to give you another two units of blood today. You lost a lot and your blood count is still low. It's just as well that you are physically fit. We should be able to let you home tomorrow. Look, I'm sorry if I was harsh with you yesterday. It was unprofessional."

"That's OK," I replied, "It was no more than I deserved. Don't worry, I won't sue you."

Her eyes widened.

"Please, it was a joke." I continued. "I know I shouldn't be making those. I am so scared. I have done something truly awful to someone who I love more than life itself. Sorry that sounds like something from a crap movie."

The woman smiled kindly and held my hand. Then one of her colleagues brought the first bag of blood and they both slipped into slightly aloof, professional mode. I dozed on and off all morning, having declined breakfast. I was hungry enough for a bad lunch of something alleging to be beef casserole. It sat in the pit of my stomach, a great weight that got heavier as 2 O'clock approached. Would I get any visitors at all?

And then she was there, looking beautiful and radiant. Her hair! It looked like she was wearing an afro wig. I thought she had lost weight. And she had a football attached to her front. I could feel my clit start to stiffen. Dirty bitch. But Charley really looked sexy. My own blonde MILF. No wonder there were so many pregnant porn sites.

"Where's TomTom?" I asked her.

"He's with Trisha. I wasn't sure if you would want to come home. I didn't want to have to explain it to him."

"Of course I want to come home."

Then we both started to cry. The nurse ushered Charley to a chair and brought us a box of tissues, then discreetly left. Charley blew hard, then leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips, running her hand through my unwashed hair. She smelled of shampoo. My treacherous clit was stiffening even more, which made my tummy pain worse. I winced and Charley jumped back, concern written across her face. Charley would never win money at a poker game.

"Shall I call the nurse?"

"It's OK; I'm due some more painkillers in an hour or so. Oh God, Charley. I didn't think that I would ever see you again. I'm an evil bitch. Please forgive me."

She was biting her nails and had gone deathly pale. Charley is a gentle soul and hates confrontation. I felt some of her pain. I mentally begged her not to cry.

"It's got to stop, Gorgeous." she sobbed. "I can't live without you, but I will throw you out if you ever have sex with a family member again. I don't believe you are capable of total monogamy. It makes me feel like I am a piece of shit, but it is a price that I am prepared to pay. Women only, you hear. I want you to make a written confession in front of a solicitor. You have got a lot of trust to rebuild."

"OK, sweetie," I said, trying to sound as contrite as I felt.

"You might have died. I thought you had," she said, her face contorted with anguish.

"Don't even think about doing anything with Thomas. Or Tarquin, for that matter. I am not leaving your brother alone with them. Ever."

"Charley! What do you think we are?" I blurted out. She did not need to answer. I wished the floor had swallowed me.

"I don't totally blame you, Georgia. He's older than you and I don't consider it truly consensual. Particularly not the first time."

I managed not to tell her how I had begged for it. I may have been the brilliant legal mind, but she had a point. She elaborated.

"Mike said that you have a special sort of love. I've heard that before, Georgia. You are the one who encouraged me to help out at the centre and the safe house. I did the counselling course remember. Most of those women I speak to have been abused as kids. Step-fathers mainly. The men say things to them. "A special type of love" comes up a lot, along with "Our little secret" and "Tell and I'll kill you". Most of those women think they have consented and I think they are more ashamed than the ones who had fought and lost.

"Why do you think doctors, teachers, social workers and even barristers, are not allowed to screw their clients? It's the power differential."

I gulped. I think I have said the same thing in court. Charley seemed to be working herself into a storm of righteous indignation. But she stopped and rubbed her belly.

I knew what was coming next, but she had to say it.

"For God's sake Georgia, it was you who made me realise that I had been raped, even though I didn't put up a fight."

She seemed exhausted and flopped back into the chair. I am not religious. Charley is, in a quiet, unthreatening way. I thanked her God for sending her to me.

After a pregnant pause, she asked, "How's your shoulder?"

"Hurts as much as my tummy. How did you know?"

"I've had a laparoscopy too, remember?"

Of course, when she donated her eggs. At the time, Charley had not mentioned the pain.

I could not believe that she had forgiven me, but it was totally in character. I had a lot of work to do to make it up to her. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I did not want her to leave me, again Georgia the selfish bitch. Of course she had to get home to our lovely boy.

I slept better that night, the luckiest woman in the world.

Charley came and got me before lunch, on Sunday. I had been passed fit enough to travel on public transport and Charley hated driving in Central London. She liked using public transport. Nobody could criticise Charley's green credentials. TomTom was staying with another little friend.

The train home was almost deserted and it was a warm day. Charley did not object when I pushed up her T-shirt and rubbed her taut white belly. Her usually deep navel was on the cusp of becoming an outie. I leaned over and gave it a little lick. I was chastised, so put my head against her warm dry skin and thought that I caught the faint flutter of our baby's heart. Charley stroked my hair and played with my ear. I looked up and she was sucking her thumb. She blushed. She only sucked her thumb when she was anxious, but it looked oh so sexy.

"It's OK Scarface, don't stop but you're turning me on again."

"Georgia," she snapped, mock annoyed, "When we get home I am going to wash your mouth out with soap, put you over my knee and spank your bare bottom."

"Oh God, yes," I moaned, unzipping my skirt, "Do it now, Miss. Punish me severely."

Just then the ticket collector appeared at the end of the carriage. Charley turned scarlet and pulled her T-shirt down.

"That was close," I giggled.

Charley tried hard to be stern.

"Quite. And I haven't got any soap on me."

We were soon at our station. Walking over the bridge left me faint and breathless. I had to sit down, as the world spun. I had been given a blood transfusion and warned that the little red cells would take a couple of days to start carrying oxygen. I got my breath back and got up to start the walk up the hill. Charley was having none of it and hailed us a cab. We got home and Charley sat me on the sofa, clucking like a mother hen. I was told not to move, whilst she went to fetch Tom. I must have dozed off, because my lovely little boy was suddenly on top of me giggling, our Earth Mother standing behind, smiling benevolently. Even Spot, the snarling striped beast came and gave me a chirr. She is definitely Charley's cat, although everybody knows that Spot is a boy's name.

My care from the NHS had been exemplary, but its food was still deserving of its poor reputation. It turned out that Charley had also barely eaten for forty eight hours. I reminded her of her delicate condition and she pulled a face, disappearing into the kitchen and returning in fifteen minutes with a delicious cheese omelette and salad. I immediately felt less faint. I also felt a guilty relief at no longer being pregnant. The nausea had passed and my tits were already feeling like those of a human being. I leaned across and kissed my lover on her scarred neck. She would not let me help tidy up after lunch, but handed me the telephone.

"Go on Gorgeous, ring them. Yes all of them. And Lord Snooty. He'll be at his club, apparently. He rang earlier and ranted at me. You have apparently single handedly torpedoed a major trial."

I smiled sheepishly. My senior partner, Sir Peregrine was the quintessential male chauvinist pig and had reduced Charley to tears on more than one occasion. I duly rang him and apologised for getting pregnant and for being signed off sick for a week. One of those days he was going to be hung out to dry by an employment tribunal. If I was called in his defence, I would gladly recall how the price for joining his chambers was a blow job. Next I rang Mum, who was a lot less frosty than I expected and reminded me that I was living with a saint and that I still deserved to have all my reproductive organs torn out. Then I got a lecture from Imogen and finally a very difficult conversation with my brother, the seed spreader. His natural instinct for self preservation seemed to have returned and his previous concern for Charley's wellbeing had been replaced by a demand that she decide whether she was going to ruin his marriage and career, or not. I slammed the phone down in rage.

Charley let me take Tom for his afternoon nap. As usual he was of quickly. I needed a shower, but I was under strict orders not to have one for a week. What torture. I had a totally inadequate sponge wash, then I padded into the bedroom and there was Charley, my little dormouse already curled up in bed, fast asleep, sucking her thumb. I climbed in and spooned behind her delicious warm body. I reached around and put my hand on Bump. I felt the little ripple of new life under my hand and quietly cried myself to sleep.

I got a good hour before I heard Tom shouting "Up. Up. Mummy Char. Mummy George."

Unusually Charley did not stir, so I got up and took Tom downstairs. Charley came down an hour later, concerned that she had failed in her maternal duty of eternal vigilance. I spent the rest of the day playing the loving mother. Charley was equanimity personified.

I was not allowed to do any physical work, which usually suited me fine. I kept reading motives into Charley's actions. She let me give Tom his bath and read his bedtime story.

Serious business was done in the kitchen and that was where Charley was sitting, when I came downstairs.

I took a chance and hugged her. After a few seconds she pushed me away.

She gave me one of her shy smiles, which made her look like a teenager and threw a little blue package at me.

A box of condoms. I was speechless.

"It can go in your special drawer. Girls only remember."

Charley leaned forward, tilted her head slightly and kissed me. Gently. After an age her tiny tongue slipped into my mouth and asked for a dance. We engaged in a slow waltz.

Charley stood up and smiled again. She took me by the hand.

"Come on, Gorgeous. Early night. No sex. Don't look at me like that. It's not punishment. Your pelvis is too delicate at the moment. How about I throw a sicky tomorrow and we cuddle all day."

"God, Charley. Don't torture me. You have never thrown a sicky in your life and I won't let you start now."

The week passed uneventfully. I was surprised at how much sleep I seemed to need. I contacted my friend Tamsin. She is a solicitor and was my first lover at university. We still fuck once or twice a year, for old time's sake. Tamsin adores Charley and thought her mad to take me back, once I had made a full confession. She came around to the house, with her nubile lover and they witnessed my grovelling admission of guilt. Then Tammy asked if I fancied a threesome. Saucy bitch. I declined graciously like a good girl. In fact I was still not allowed a shower and my cunt was humming. If it had been clean, I might not have been able to say no.

Friday, I went to the doctors and had my stitches removed. I went home, showered and wanked myself off, using my largest vibrator. I showered again, with my vibrating love egg up my arse. Charley was at work and TomTom was at the child minder. Spot was out hunting. I shrieked as I came.

Saturday came around and I insisted on helping with the shopping. I dressed down and behaved impeccably. My favourite checkout girl was not in, but I picked another luscious, teenage redhead and smiled benignly at her, as I fantasised about her sitting on my face. Fortunately Charley is not a mind reader, however she shot me several warning looks.

Tom needs his sleep and was asleep by eight, that evening.

Charley and I sat out in the garden, listening to the birds singing. Charley put her head on my shoulder and whispered.

"Bath time."

Charley led me upstairs. I smiled, licked my lips and ran a bath of exotic bubbles for us both. We had not bathed together for months, preferring showers. I laughed at the little islands of Charleyness that poked through the bubbles; her huge tits, her bump and her pale knees. Despite being a self proclaimed whale, my darling was having a little difficulty manoeuvring in the water. When I started licking her feet, she slipped and banged her head on the cold tap. Her hair got soaked. We settled for gentle washing, with a sponge. I got out first, feeling a little dizzy and then grabbed Charley in a huge green towel as she practically fell out of the bath. I let out a sigh of relief when she started giggling.

We went to the bedroom and lay on the wet towels facing each other, our naked bodies damp and shiny. Charley fixed me with her calm light blue eyes. Her pupils dilated enticingly. I wanted her to take the lead. I wanted her to love me. Charley stroked my cheek and then ran her finger along my jaw, down my neck and onto my left breast. My nipples were already close to exploding. She gently squeezed my boob flesh.

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