Come Together Right Now

What have I kept saying about life not getting better?

Suddenly Wendy's right hand had left my backside . . . and I missed it like crazy . . . but not for long.

In no time at all it was down below her ever-hungry mouth, two fingers penetrating me, very shallowly at first, as if testing me before plunging in deeper than deep.

After that everything blurred. I was dimly aware that Wendy's fingers had rhythms and variations all of their own, never coinciding with the rhythms and variations of her ever-busy lips and tongue.

If I was over-egging it I'd cry quadruple ecstasy!! But that would be playing the experience down.

Fuck me sideways and call me Sally, but that was a satisfactory experience. If it had gone on forever it would have ended far too soon.

Lasting a mere eternity wasn't nearly enough.

*****

At some stage Wendy declared a timeout. Crawling up my still writhing, ever-so grateful carcass, she may well have noted my disappointed expression.

'You're too much, babe,' she told me. 'My jaw aches and the root of my tongue is suffering repetitive strain.'

'Sorry,' said I, the epitome of insincerity.

'Never known anyone who likes it so much,' Wendy went on, rolling off me to lie side by side, her hand on my tummy, in a reassuring sort of a way.

'It's still my call,' she said bravely, 'insatiable or not, I'm in for the long haul. I just need a little rest.'

Tentatively, I ventured, 'I could try . . . Well, you know. I won't be nearly as good as you, but . . .'

'We've ages ahead of us,' Wendy replied. 'And worry not. When it comes to your turn, I can talk you through.'

'I'm going to get a turn, am I?'

'Yes . . . But only if you really want to.'

'I'm in paradise,' I assured her honestly. 'I want everything and forever.'

For maybe ten minutes we lay as we were, bodies touching in that side by side way, her hand on me and my hands wondering what they should be doing.

Should it be something brave and adventurous or something sneaky yet sexy?

Dare I?

Could I?

'What do you prefer?' I asked. Then, into the ensuing silence: 'Giving or taking, I mean.'

'I'm not as experienced as I make out,' Wendy replied, eventually. 'But I guess I'm like most girls. I like to share.'

Perhaps predictably, I asked her to enlarge.

'Like I just said, I'm not vastly experienced. But most of the girls I've been with are into equality.' She laughed.

'So tell me about "most girls".'

Anyone else might have objected. Wendy laughed again.

'I really am almost as innocent as you,' she began.

I snorted. 'You just fucked me to Heaven, Mars and maybe even Jupiter. Try harder.'

Wendy snorted along with me. 'Glad you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.'

That gave me pause for thought. She'd done all the doing. How could she have enjoyed it anywhere near as much as me?

'Bringing you off was best-ever,' she continued, her voice low, somehow sincere. 'I like doing that, as do most of the girls I've been with. It's usually a sharing thing, even though a few do prefer just to give or take. Far as I've been concerned most girls have more sense.'

'When did you . . . realize . . .'

'My older sister is away at uni, right? She brought a mate home for a few days and we sort of clicked.'

'Your sister is a lesbian?' I exclaimed.

'Apparently she is not. But her mate is. And apparently she saw something in me.'

'Isn't that like . . . Well isn't it grooming?'

'Trust me, babe, we were a thousand per cent mutual. It was Sissy's loss and all that.

'I'll bow to your superior judgment. But was that it? One slip and . . .'

'Not stupid, are you?' Going off on a tangent but without naming names, Wendy told me about several young ladies we both knew who weren't exactly what they seemed.

Not to mention a swarm of young ladies I'd never even heard of.

'They can be butch as can be on the outset,' Wendy said, 'but who ever really knows?'

'I just like sexy babes,' I replied, wishing she'd fuck me again . . . and again and again.

'Guess that's why we're here and now.'

'Have you recovered yet?' I asked tentatively.

'I'll be fine after we've been out for a bite to eat.'

'Tea time is hours away,' I objected, without thinking.

'What time do you normally eat?'

'We usually sit down around about six.'

'We're late then. It's ten past seven.'

That astonished me. I had to check my mobile before I believed her. 'Jaysus,' I said, 'you've been . . . been . . . at me non-stop for nearly six hours!'

'And I enjoyed every second,' Wendy purred. 'But I haven't half worked up an appetite.'

Chapter Four

We discounted The Pride as too far away. Instead Wendy escorted me to a different pub not a million miles away from her parents' house. By then it was fully dark outside; a factor I'd completely missed while doubting her about the time of day!

'This is my local,' she told me as we walked, arm-in-arm. 'It's also my dad's local, so no hanky-panky in here. Okay?'

We'd just showered together, ostensibly rinsing away lady juice and sexy sweat . . . in reality allowing me chance to feel my first willing pussy. Well, my first willing pussy apart from my own, obviously!

And how good had that been! We'd lingered there under cascading hot water until mutually rumbling tummies announced it really was time to break our fast.

'Okay by me,' I said meekly as the homely, illuminated pub sign came in sight, 'as long as we can talk dirty to each other.'

Wendy rolled her eyes but kissed my cheek nevertheless. 'What are you like?' she demanded.

'I'm like head over heels in lust,' I replied.

'I'll make sure we get a remote table . . .'

*****

I did not know anybody in The Fleece but Wendy acknowledged half a dozen nods, mostly from older male drinkers, presumably mates of her dad's. Then, after assuring me she had been left with a "more than adequate food budget", she bought us beers and ordered another pair of sizzling steaks.

'The pubs are in the same chain,' she explained as we went to a suitably remote table, 'so the deal is the same; two for the price of one. It would be rude not to, wouldn't it?'

Speaking as a girl who loved steaks, I agreed that the last thing I wanted to be was rude.

'I want to be rude with you again soon, though,' I added, sotto voce, 'and the sooner the better.'

Using the same low tone Wendy replied positively.

'You're hard to keep up with but I'll be up for it, even if you are the most demanding woman in the world . . . as well as the most orgasmic.'

I laughed a little uncertainly and she took opportunity to enlarge.

'Six hours is easily a record for me. And six thousand big Os . . .' She rolled her eyes again. 'Hazel X, I am very seriously impressed.'

So was I. It seemed like mere minutes ago since I was lamenting my ability to climax. Now, now that I had found my true vocation . . . Well, it seemed impossible not to climax.

Not, up close and personal with the new girl of my dreams.

Okay, okay, so six thousand was a major exaggeration, wasn't it? I'd had dozens, not thousands . . .

Or had I?

'These girls you meet,' I said cautiously, 'how does that work? I've only ever seen you out with guys.'

And a lot of guys at that, I could have added.

'I go into Leeds Wendy replied. 'I go there about once a week and frequent a certain type of bar.' She named eight or more venues, only two of which I'd head of: The Sun and The New Penny. Nowadays I know and am known in all eight of them. A decade ago they were unfamiliar, if very exotic-sounding.

'So what happens?'

'I'm there alone and so are lots of other girls. It's easy to click. The main problem is finding a place to do the deed. Often as not I end up with a quickie in an alleyway, like last night.'

'Last night was glorious,' I protested.

'But it wasn't as good as this afternoon.'

'Nothing has ever been as good as this afternoon.'

'What about tonight?'

'That,' I grinned, 'remains to be seen.'

*****

It must have been around half past nine when we got back to Wendy's. Again refusing the grand tour I demanded to be taken straight to bed.

With me suddenly being the demanding type, of course.

I had, coincidentally, been wondering about the immediate pattern of events. I knew what I wanted . . . and desperately needed . . . but was unsure what was actually going to happen.

But being back there in her parents' room had me aroused again. Remembering the amazing feel of my lover's body . . . remembering her professed dedication to sharing, I decided not to wait and see.

'Time to undress,' I announce abruptly. 'A garment at a time, with you first again.'

Wendy raised an eyebrow before playing along and, taking our time about it, we gradually stripped for each other. Except this time it was me who pounced when she removed her top, revealing a very well filled white brassiere.

'Best tits ever,' I crooned, closing on her, kissing her mouth whilst rather clumsily unhooking her bra.

At this point I'm going to skip along a bit, in order to avoid repetition. Let's simply say I did my utmost to replicate the attention she had paid to me earlier.

Not that I've suddenly gone all reticent. I'll fill you in with a few highlights of that late evening, focusing on my impressions and feelings.

I will start with Wendy's tits: I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised by everything about them. Firm yet bouncy, springy even . . . it was an honour to lay my hands and mouth on them. And as for my lips being on them . . .

Jaysus yes, yes, YES!!

I will remember forever the feel of two already erect nipples getting even harder, growing even larger as I avidly sucked on them.

That's right; I really was turning her on!

No, I was turning her on to the nth degree!

(And me too, coincidentally, beyond the bounds of all reason!)

Believe you me, the idea of me turning on a goddess like Wendy was very empowering. I climaxed at least twice before sinking to my knees and nuzzling her through her (exceptionally wet) thong.

Later, with Wendy obediently on her back on the bed, I endlessly toyed with her upper legs. And ditch that nonsense I said about "hygiene", please. While I was licking, kissing, stroking and caressing her thighs I was constantly aware of the scent of her. By that I don't mean the smell of her perfume or the countless cosmetics, soaps and sprays that made up the essential her; I mean the core smell of her.

I mean the smell of an aroused woman.

Trust me, that aroma was overpowering. How I held off the final attack as long as I did is beyond me. I cared nothing for hygiene and finally dived in there as smartly as one of the guys who do those head-first dives off the cliffs in Acapulco.

(La Quebrada, they call them; I just Googled it.)

I can't begin to tell you how good Wendy tasted. The smell of her was intoxicating but the taste of her was millions of times better.

She liked what I was doing, too. Her entire body was wriggling and writhing, writhing and wriggling. As she contorted herself and frequently came she gasped out words of encouragement, interspersed by a lot of gasps, moans and groans.

The feel of my tongue on her was awesome.

The feel of her most intimate muscles clamping around my invading fingers was exquisite.

Watching her repeatedly cumming, knowing I was bringer her great pleasure . . . Well that was best of all.

*****

Here's another of my infamous confessions. I didn't manage to fuck Wendy for a whole six hours; my tongue gave up on me after about four. Not that my lover . . .

My lover!!

Not that she seemed to mind. 'I owe you,' she said. 'And it's getting near time to sleep. Repaying the debt will be quick and guaranteed to send you off happy into Dreamland.'

So saying she rooted in a bedside drawer and produced something I'd never seen before. I took it as a cross between modern technology and a medieval instrument of torture.

'It's my rabbit,' she said, smirking, clearly amused by my look of shock. 'Ten minutes with me using it on you and you won't just be the most orgasmic babe on the planet . . . you'll be the most grateful.'

Turned out she was dead right.

Chapter Five

Three things surprised me when I woke next morning. There was a weapon of war on my pillow; I was in the bed rather than on it . . . and I was totally alone.

Yawning, I took stock. The weapon of war wasn't really a surprise: it was that beyond-delicious rabbit and I was going to buy myself one, as soon as. Wendy must have left it there when I dropped off into Dreamland, twice as grateful as forecast.

Being in the bed was more confusing. I could remember bouncing about on top of the duvet but drew a blank when it came to getting under it. Wendy; I concluded; she must have covered up after I'd cum my way into sweet oblivion.

But where was she? Perhaps the smell of frying food was a giveaway. And wasn't that the faint sound of something sizzling in a pan?

I briefly considered another ride on my lover's sex toy, deciding nay because it buzzed quite loudly. If I could hear a pan sizzling in the kitchen then surely she'd hear me self-indulging.

Besides, I'd probably be clumsy and no use to begin with. A helping hand would not go amiss.

And we still had a whole day ahead of us!

Yippee!!

Wendy, presumably in the interests of modesty, had put on yesterday's blouse before going down into the kitchen. Take it from me, it revealed a lot more than it concealed. I wolf whistled when she arrived back in the bedroom, carrying a tray.

'Flattery will get you everywhere,' she said, putting the tray on the set of bedside drawers, shrugging off the blouse, letting it fall wherever.

Tearing my eyes away from her, still enthralled by every last detail, I got out of bed to check out what was on that tray. And I have to say I was impressed with my findings: two large buns crammed full of crispy bacon rashers, two mugs of percolated coffee and two bottles of sauce . . . tomato and brown.

I bagged the fullest bun (not that there was much between them; they both really were crammed) and generously applied of lot of what our American cousins would call "steak sauce".

Heaven! I hadn't realized I was hungry but one bite and I was ravenous.

We munched in cosy silence, eying each other between bites and slurps of caffeine, sitting together on the edge of the bed, as content as pigs in you-know-what.

Then, as we finished and deposited our empties back on the tray, Wendy shocked me.

'It's a glorious day out there,' she declared, 'I think we should go for a walk.'

Glancing out of the window I had to agree the weather was fine. Yorkshire in late November is not at all predictable. There can be hail, sleet, snow and black ice. But that morning was sunny as a day in May. Okay, so it wouldn't be as warm as a day in May, but snow and ice would be out of the question.

(We'll probably get the snow and ice tomorrow, I thought. And I'm not a pessimist; I'm a realist.)

'I can think of better exercise than walking,' I said aloud, somewhat unsurprisingly.

'You haven't heard the plan yet.'

'You and your plans,' I sighed. 'Go on then, let's hear the latest.'

'We set off at ten thirty,' Wendy obliged, 'and we head for Sunnydale. We enjoy trogging up hills and down dales and end up back at Dad's local for half eleven-ish. They do excellent Sunday lunches so we indulge, having a beer or three while we're at it. Then we come back here . . .'

'Sounds okay,' I conceded, dubiously.

'Hazel,' Wendy chided, 'those Sunday lunches are carvery. We can eat as much as we want. And it's all good stuff: a choice of three or four meats; as many roast potatoes, carrots, sprouts and whatever as we can carry. Once we've had that we won't want another meal today. And I've wine in the fridge. I reckon we'll be back here not long after one o'clock with yonks ahead of us and no reason to stop and go out again . . .'

She had me sussed; that's for sure.

'I'm not hungry anymore,' I objected (very weakly).

'You will be after a good trog,' she countered, 'out in all of that fresh air. So what do you say?'

Calculating inside my head, I concluded a walk and Sunday lunch would take up two and a half hours. If I held out we'd probably end up lunching lightly and having to go out for an evening meal as well. In other words we'd lose two lots of two hours. By following Wendy's latest cunning scheme we'd gain at least an hour . . . perhaps even ninety minutes.

Yes, Wendy had me sussed all right.

'Okay, okay,' I said, grinning at her, 'you win. But I want a kiss before we set off. And what time is it, anyway?'

*****

Wendy had put tomato ketchup on her sandwich. I could taste it on her breath. Sincerely hoping that I tasted hot and spicy in contrast, I kissed back at her, my excitement steadily building.

And why shouldn't it be? It was not long after nine; even if our shower lasted another half hour we still had the best part of an hour to further our intimacy.

(Listen to me! "Further our intimacy" indeed. Whatever do I sound like! Never mind, let's press on with the tale.)

When Wendy gently pushed me I instinctively went with her, moving onto my back, hoping for more of her rabbit. But I had a very different treat in store . . . An even more wonderful treat.

Suddenly my increasingly ardent lover was on me, over me, her tummy and tits on mine, pressing our groins close.

'Trust me,' she murmured.

As if she had to ask! Our close bodily contact wasn't just moreish, it was wildly addictive.

'Anything,' I replied . . . and what a good decision was that.

Initially confused when she started to rhythmically move I swiftly realized she was tribbing. I'd seen that on my videos, naturally. Yes, I'd seen it but thought it was just for show.

How wrong had I been!

It was impossible to explain how much I enjoyed been taken like that. Every part of her against me felt perfect, contact between every square inch of our skins was sensational. Her motions were magical. I was instantly transported with joy.

A section of my brain . . . the tiny section that hadn't yet been transported along with all the rest of me . . . routinely observed that Wendy was fucking me like a man. But this was infinitely better than I had ever had before. And a lack of internal stimulation was not an issue. Oh no, not with all of her sodden pussy slithering up and down all of mine.

How good was that!

'Wend,' I gasped, 'I'm gonna . . .'

''No you are not,' she gasped back. 'This is a twosome effort.'

Eff my old boots but she meant it. Gritting my teeth I fought off the increasingly urgent impulse. Maybe being told not to do it enhanced the natural process. Maybe I was already too far down the road . . .

Jaysus but didn't I want to cum!!

Not that I was going to. Not without putting up a fight. If my marvellous lover wanted a twosome effort I wasn't about to let her down.

Not if I could help it, anyway.

Harder she went, faster and harder. I was moving with her as well. It was impossible not to. Using the springs in the mattress I thrust up to meet her, allowing her total control but . . . I sincerely hope . . . in some small way adding to the experience.

'Wend,' I gasped again.

'Not listening,' she countered.

And again she went harder, faster, harder, faster.

Somehow I stayed myself . . . me, allegedly the most orgasmic babe on the planet.

Faster and harder she went, harder and faster and faster and faster . . .

Wend,' I wailed, at my wits end.

'Now,' she yelled in response, 'now, now, now!'

What a release was that! Wendy's rabbit was nowhere near a match for climaxing with the girl herself. Our ecstatic bodies must have clenched, twisted and bumped together for ten minutes or more.

Those were ten utterly glorious minutes; ten utterly forgettable minutes.