Come Together Right Now

No, those were ten of the very best minutes of my life.

Chapter Six

And so on we go to Sunnydale . . .

I have, coincidentally looked the name up, discovering a zillion like-named places, including Buffy's home town in California. Our "Sunnydale" was to the north of Leeds, where West Yorkshire started to get hilly, a stretch away from the flatlands off to the east.

Uphill at first, we trudged a surfaced lane before passing through a five-bar gate onto no more than a farm track. Half a mile later we left the track for what at best could be called a "trail". Rabbit tracks had been better defined.

(Well, maybe that one wasn't a "magic rabbit track", tee-hee!)

Describing Sunnydale I'll just say it was a nature trail. Mostly uphill, there were trees just everywhere surrounded by bracken, heather and undergrowth. And I have to admit that the fresh air couldn't have been fresher. Surprisingly warm, hand in hand with Wendy, I quite readily endured the trek.

And the place was, for once, deserted. We hadn't seen a soul since the five-bar gate. Alone in a riot of nature we could hear birds cheerful singing, spot rabbits furtively scurrying, pheasants and grouse taking shelter, patiently waiting for the end of their own particular shooting seasons.

No sign of other humans, though. I assumed the early ramblers had already been and gone while the more tardy ones were still preparing lunch before setting off. And I liked it that way. Having the dale to ourselves was good. It somehow made all that fresh air seem even fresher.

But then, umpteen miles uphill, we rounded a blind corner in the trail and . . .

Well, put it this way, I hadn't expected to meet anyone, never mind someone I knew. Not up there, in the deep depths of nowhere.

But we did.

To clarify things I should explain that our rabbit track meandered like crazy. Towards the very top of Sunnydale there was a rash of trees, some of them hundreds of years old and quite enormous. That meandering track weaved and winded madly.

And there we suddenly were, confronted by a totally unexpected spectacle.

No, make that totally, totally, totally unexpected.

There was a couple locked together against the biggest tree for miles around. They were naked from the waist down and the female's legs were wrapped tight around the guy. He was bearing her weight by gripping her ass, using the tree trunk to help support her as he pounded in and out.

Oblivious to our presence the guy chose that moment to ejaculate.

'Yes, yes, yes,' the girl cried in endorsement.

And I could have fainted clean away. That voice was only too familiar; it was Amy's. Looking closer at the guy I recognized him as well; it was my old flame Brian.

'Hallo, hallo, hallo,' I eventually managed. 'What's going on here, then?'

In her defence Amy replied readily. At least she did as soon as she got her knickers back on. Brian meanwhile clumsily fumbled his way back into his jeans, probably affected by the way Wendy was studying his proudest asset.

'What does it look like, dickhead!' Amy said, more leisurely . . . and much more elegantly . . . getting back into her denims.

(Now I must admit I found Amy ass very alluring, sparsely covered as it was for those few valuable seconds. I'd seen it before, of course, but I'd never been so allured.

Or had I?

Final confession for today: I'd often fantasised about my best amigo when alone in the privacy of my bedroom. Usually that happened when I used my dildo; the one I'd been given by Amy's older sister, Alice. One glance at the sex toy and I invariably thought of Alice. A hundred or so ins and outs and my imaginings automatically switched to Amy herself . . .

Yes, I know, I know I'm a perv. But fantasising is a harmless release, isn't it? Before I discovered the delights of actual, real-life lesbian sex, I'd considered my fantasies to be a very sincere form of praise, albeit a secret one. I really did love Amy like the sister I had never had. Imagining me fucking with her was only an extension of that love.

Well, wasn't it?)

Back then I laughed, not offended in the least by my friend's show of contempt. 'Friday and Saturday, now Sunday morning,' I said, ticking them off one by one. 'It looks like you two are about to become an item. You must be setting records for having outdoor sex.'

Amy scoffed at that. 'It's all right for you; we can't overnight together. Not like you two.'

My lover's grip on my hand tightened at that.

'I'm just helping Wendy housesit while her parents are away,' I announced as casually as I could. 'But how do you know?'

'Your mobile's off so I rang your mum. She filled me in, no problem. Not that she suspects. Not much more than excess booze and late nights. As if I'd believe that,' she added scornfully. 'Your mum might be trusting but she hasn't seen your face yet, has she? Sex is written all over it.'

Wendy's grip on my hand tightened even more.

'I promised to reveal all tomorrow,' I said, still striving for casual. 'And I will.'

To my relief Amy laughed. 'That'll be a revelation and a half,' she said. 'Will you be spreading news about what you've just seen? Here and now, I mean?'

'I won't if you don't,' I said diplomatically. Then, remembering my amigo's penchant for being the most outrageous girl at school, I offered: 'Unless you want me to broadcast it far and wide.'

'I don't believe you were spying on us,' Brian interjected, clearly stunned, still struggling with his flies.

'Keep out of this, Brian,' said Amy. 'And clear your mind. Today is not to be broadcasted, not anytime soon. Right, Hazel? Works both ways, doesn't it?'

I nodded, incredibly grateful of her understanding, mildly curious about the depth of her knowledge.

Did she really know me better than I did myself?

And, if she did, had she always known where I'd finally end up?

Come to that, did I honestly want to know?

*****

Much lower down the dale Wendy's local had all the delights that she'd claimed. Roast beef, chicken, ham or turkey, along with every sort of roast or boiled veg and an amazing assortment of gravies.

'I'll be too full to do you justice,' I said as I tucked in to simply dozens of roast potatoes.

'My arse,' said Wendy. 'You'll decline the tour and next thing I know we'll be back at it.'

'Sounds like one of your better plans,' I said, nodding in agreement. Some facts were unavoidable.

My lover paid hungry attention to her Yorkshire pudding before speaking again. 'Can we trust them? I mean Amy and Brian.'

'I trust Amy with my life,' I said without hesitation. 'Brian's probably too wrapped up in her to spout off on his own. I reckon our secret is safe enough. Assuming you want it to be a secret.'

'He was very impressive,' said Wendy. 'From what little I saw, I mean. Strong, athletic and giving his all. What more could a girl ask for?'

'Don't ask rhetorical questions when you already know the answer,' I replied. 'Not when I'm waiting to hear the answer to a question of my own.'

Wendy chewed on a slice of succulent turkey before responding. 'I've kept my girlie side quiet up until now,' she said. 'But for you I could possibly make an exception.'

My heart soared at her words. I couldn't see myself but guessed I had the mother of all goofy grins on my (written all over) face.

'Is that a hint of us really becoming an item?' I wondered. 'Of us being out, loud and proud?'

Wendy nodded. 'I will if you will,' she murmured.

'We can't split on Amy and Brian,' my last logical brain cell articulated. 'But I'm only too ready to date you seven days a week. Or even more if you fancy it.'

That produced a matching goofy grin. 'Oh I fancy it,' said Wendy. 'Hurry up and eat your lunch. We've places to go, things to do . . .'

Afterword

I'm going to call it a day at that, for now at least. So as you know we got back to Wendy's around half past one and screwed like crazy until the early hours of Monday. Leaving particulars to imaginations, I would confirm that, apart for a few wine breaks, we were at it non-stop. Wendy's rabbit certainly saw a lot of use and I took my turn at tribbing on top . . . aided and assisted by my lover's helpful hands.

And I was introduced to the legendary great art of an all-female sixty-nine.

Yes, topping and bottoming and a squillion positions in-between.

That was a happy day indeed. So too were the days that followed, the pair of us out of our closets and all over each other at every opportunity. The latest school pairing, shameless and in love . . .

Sadly, although we never fell out, it didn't last. But nothing is really forever, is it? And on occasion we do still get it together, even now . . .

But that's a story for some other time. Until then, it's TTFN.