tagLesbian SexHeather Falls in Love Pt. 08

Heather Falls in Love Pt. 08



(July 2004)

There was a reception committee waiting for Heather in Albany: Claire and the twins with signs that read:




Except she was first through Arrivals and they were standing in the wrong order, not expecting her so soon. The message therefore read:




The trio greeted her with squeals, hugs and kisses. Then, after a big group hug, she gave each of them a long, slow snog. Nobody watching could have mistaken them for just good friends.

The drive into the city was short but eventful. Claire was up front, doing the driving while Heather sat in the back, Lauren on her left, Leigh on her right. It was cosily cramped back there, with plenty of leg to leg contact. The body language of the twins was, however, markedly different.

Heather mused on that a moment. The twins were usually alike in every respect, not only in looks but in moods and actions. Today Leigh was sitting bolt upright, staring over Claire's shoulder and out of the windscreen. Lauren, by contrast, was leaning into Heather, boobs pressing against her arm, her gaze fixed on Heather's face.

'Can I have a proper kiss?' she asked.

Heather thought the girl had already had one but wasn't about to object. And my, didn't Lauren put her heart into it! That was one of those kisses that started off thermonuclear and just got hotter.

And hotter.

'You two,' Claire said after a few minutes, 'get a room!'

'Great idea,' said Lauren. 'Stop at the next motel.' Then, matter-of-factly putting her hand between Heather's legs and starting to rub: 'You'll never believe it, Hev, but Leigh's got a boyfriend.'

Heather was a bit disconcerted by Lauren's hand. What she was doing seemed both forward and very public. Still, it felt good and nobody else was complaining.

'A boyfriend,' she said out loud, 'what, a real one, with a willy and everything? Sorry, I meant with a donger and everything?'

'Yeah, he's been putting his hairy donger in her every night for a fortnight. Isn't that gross?'

'Talking about dongers,' interrupted Claire, 'how did it go with Rod?'

'Fine,' said Heather. She'd been expecting to be asked and was determined not to bad-mouth Rod, even if he did deserve it.

'Did he put his hairy donger in you every night?' Leigh enquired.

'He put it in me numerous times a day, every single day,' Heather confessed.

'See, Lauren,' Leigh said jubilantly, 'I'm not alone. Heather likes it too. It's not unusual or unnatural.'

'I never said it was,' said Lauren sniffily.

'You haven't needed to. The way you look at me says it all. Anyone would think you've never fucked a donger in your life.'

'Are you sure everything was fine with Rod?' Claire was concentrating on the road, only occasionally flicking her eyes up to the rear-view. Even so, she had to be aware of what Lauren was doing.

'Sure I'm sure,' Heather said a little breathlessly, wondering if she could cum without anyone noticing.

'Okay,' said Claire. 'He just seemed a bit evasive when I spoke to him the other day.'

'Is he back again already?'

'No, he's still staying with Shane. I've got his number, though. I called to see if he was coming to the wedding. And when I mentioned you he tried to change the subject.'

'We had a small tiff when we got to Sydney,' said Heather, sticking to her plan. 'It was just a storm in a teacup, nothing more. He probably thinks I hold it against him, but I don't.'


Claire dropped Leigh off in a posh suburb Heather didn't recognize, outside a well-appointed house. She assumed Leigh's boyfriend lived there and was impressed.

'See you Hev. Cheers Claire.' Leigh looked at her sister, stuck out her tongue and walked off without saying goodbye to her.

'Hussy,' said Lauren. 'I bet she's on her back inside two minutes.'

Her hand found Heather's crotch again and they finished their trip in an uneasy silence.

'I have to go in to work,' Claire said as they pulled up at her place. 'Here's your key, Hev, so you can come and go as you please. You know where my bedroom is. Yours is the wardrobe to the left of the mirror.'

Then, turning to Lauren: 'Keep out of my bed, you! I've made it freshly. If you must rut with my live-in girlfriend, do it in the spare room. And don't wear her out. I have big things planned for tonight.'

'I think that was a green light,' Lauren said as Claire drove off.

Heather felt a sudden surge of excitement. She'd had sex with Lauren before, on several occasions, but never on her own. Previously she'd always had her sister with her. "Buy one get one free" Claire called it. And she was right. The twins did everything together, shagging very much included. In fact it would have seemed odd if they didn't.

Up until that moment Heather hadn't even dreamed about bedding one twin with the other nowhere to be seen. Now it wasn't a dream, it was very obviously going to be a reality.

And it seemed somehow . . . kinky, as if threesome sex was normal and one-to-one was a perversion.

Oh yes please, she thought. Oh pretty please yes!

Using her new key, she let them in and deposited her backpack and travelling bag in Claire's room.

'I'll unpack later,' she said.


The spare room was right next to Claire's. They were in there in seconds, kissing and pawing as they stripped the clothes off each other.

'Your thong's all wet,' Lauren chuckled. 'Whatever could have caused that?'

Heather responded by picking her up and carrying her across the bedroom. Then she had her against the wall, not sparing the horses, going for it big-time. Lauren, held up off the carpet, a leg either side of Heather's strongly undulating body, was helpless to resist. Not that she wanted to resist. Locking her mouth with Heather's, she helped herself to two handfuls of boob and simply took it.

And took it and took it.

Some considerable time passed before Heather decided she'd settled up for her back seat treat. She then led Lauren to the bed and went down on her, belowing her to perfection. Then she had a go at her boobs before belowing her again. And then they sixty-nined, which turned out to be just about all the giving the other girl could come up with.

Heather was surprised at that but didn't mind doing all the work. She got off on giving as much as she did on receiving. It was a trait she thanked her lucky stars for. Back at uni there had been plenty of debate about roles. Not that she had much to debate about. Real, disgusting perversions aside, she was game for anything. Game and grateful to be versatile; like being ever-so-slightly bi, it doubled her chances at parties.

It was curious about Lauren, though. In threesomes she clearly preferred giving. Working in tandem with Leigh, she was without doubt an aggressor. It was more of the same when she teamed up with Heather to shag her sister. And, while she would let Heather and Leigh team up on her, it was clear she was only doing her duty. To her being shagged was the price she paid for getting to shag.

Yet here she was, auditioning for pillow queen! Heather couldn't fathom it but, remembering some of those previous threesomes, gave her the best seeing-to she'd ever had. That is to say, she went into hurricane mode and kept it going for hours.

Surely that was her best-ever, she reckoned, at last calling time. It was certainly as good as any I've ever been given.


And then came another surprise: the undercover pillow queen did pillow talk as well.

'I'm sorry for being a bitch in the car,' she said.

'I thought you were being nice,' Heather replied. 'It was a bit embarrassing cumming so violently, but I'm a big girl; I'll live it down.'

'I didn't mean that. I meant me arguing with Leigh so publically.' Lauren sighed. 'I don't know what to do, Hev. I'm terrified I'm losing her.'

Heather wasn't very good at reassurance. Still, she could see Lauren wasn't joking and tried her best, telling her about Mary Rose, her best friend from school.

'It's nothing compared to you and your sister,' she said, 'but we formed a bond over five years, being together nearly all day, every day. It was heart-breaking when she went off to Oxbridge. But we kept in touch and kept meeting up and holidaying together. It's over two years now since I last saw her, but guess what? I'm not flying home to Manchester or Leeds; I'm going to fly to Heathrow and take a cab straight to her place.'

Heather chuckled. 'That will be a reunion to post on the Internet, I can promise you. But my point is this: our bond will never be broken. And, seeing as your bond with Leigh has to be a hundred times stronger . . .'

'She's changed,' Lauren said sadly. 'She's like a different person. Up until a fortnight ago she'd never slept with someone on her own. Now she's found this Martin guy and I hardly ever see her. It's like I don't matter anymore.'

'She'll come back to you.' Heather sounded more confident than she felt. 'Men can only be interesting for so long. Then they become boring.'

'But what if she marries him? What if Ingrid's wedding gives her ideas and she's next?'


(July 2004)

Claire's big plans for the evening involved a restaurant, two bars and bed. And she was very much the girl in charge, refusing to let Heather pay for anything and even pulling out her chair for her, just like a guy hoping to get his leg-over.

Heather, fresh from her afternoon with Lauren, enjoyed the attention. She also enjoyed anticipating the bed bit. Her previous "naughties" with Claire had all been afternoon affairs, conducted on a fifty-fifty basis. Back then Claire had been cohabiting with Brett, so night-time nooky hadn't happened. But now, with Brett elsewhere and the girl in charge in this sort of a mood . . .

By luck rather than judgment, Heather's earlier exertions hadn't worn her out. She could play her part if she had to but suspected she wouldn't get chance. She also suspected she'd enjoy every second of whatever was coming her way.

Soon enough, fed and watered, they were back at Claire's. Not bothering with drinks or TV they went directly to her room and kissed, standing up, still as fully dressed as Heather had been in ages.

I'm trembling, she thought. And my heart's thumping its way out of my ears.

Claire's hands were everywhere. She really was going for the leg-over. Compliant for once, Heather accepted the octopus-like groping and kissed back with all the oomph she could muster.

'Okay,' Claire finally said, breaking the kiss and grinning at her. 'You get undressed and in that bed like a good little girl. I'll be right back.'

Heather arched an eyebrow at that. She was taller and, whilst just as shapely, more strongly built than Claire would ever be. Still, her hostess was in charge tonight so she had to play along . . . like a good little girl.


Heather took her clothes off and, after admiring the clean sheets, hopped into bed.

Bit of a waste, she reflected, grinning, I'm staining them already. And we haven't even started!

Claire made her grand entry naked apart from a black harness, complete with a jumbo-sized dildo.

'See anything you fancy?' she wondered.

'Wow,' said Heather, dutifully playing her part. 'Is that all for me?'

It was. Only ever letting her guest passively participate, Claire proceeded to shag her from every last angle imaginable. And she did it in a great variety of ways: painstakingly slowly; wonderfully tenderly; hard, hot and amazingly vigorously . . . and all the nuances in-between.

Although she wasted precious little time thinking, Heather silently acknowledged her suspicions had been correct. She did enjoy every second of it, even when Claire lubed up and took her in the ass.

Well, of course she enjoyed that bit; it was done at her instigation, after all. Claire claimed she'd never tried anything anal before. She needed a bit of persuading but soon got the hang of it. And Heather, face down, bum raised as best she could, had really appreciated her efforts.

Afterwards, drifting towards sleep, that was the part she replayed in her mind . . . again and again.

Claire climbing on her, taking her weight on her elbows, hands positioned so she could squeeze her darkly tanned boobs. Then the gelled dildo easing inside, filling her. And then Claire setting off, oh so slow and tender again. It had been utter bliss. And it had gone on forever.



Heather felt strangely nervous when she visited Ingrid next day; nervous and guilty for not going to see her as soon as she'd arrived. She professed to love all sorts of people and things but Ingrid was special; she was in a class far above everyday "love". She was up there along with Mary Rose, Claire and Marston's Pedigree.

They met with hugs, kisses but no roaming hands. Ingrid was pregnant if not yet showing. Roaming hands would have been inappropriate.

So too would glasses of wine, and not just because it was only ten in the morning.

'How far on are you?' Heather asked. 'When will I notice a bump?'

'I'm nearly three months. And you're not going to notice anything until after the wedding.'

'You'd better not be starving yourself to look good in church. You're supposed to be eating for two now, you know.' Heather clapped a hand to her mouth. 'Good grief, I sound like my mum! That's the sort of thing she'd be saying.'

Ingrid smiled and said not to worry, her appetite was as good as ever. And then she proved her case by eating half a packet of ginger biscuits while they chatted over coffee.

'You look better than ever,' she assured Heather after they'd caught up (Heather's account being a very much edited and abbreviated version of actual events). 'How was it with Rod?'

'Not a patch on being with you, And I forget to mention it, but the campervan started dying on me.'

'I'm not surprised with you driving at two miles an hour all the time.'

'I do not drive at two miles an hour.'

'Okay then; at five miles an hour.'

Heather laughed. 'Believe it or not, I found a buyer. This is your share of the proceeds.'

'Seven hundred and fifty dollars.' Ingrid handed the bundle of notes straight back. 'Use it to buy a round on the big day. That's the sort of thing the father of the bride does, isn't it?'

'Is it?' Heather shrugged. 'I can't even give money away nowadays. Hey-ho.'

'Do you want to see my wedding plans so far?'

'Of course I do. And I want to know what I can do to help.'

Ingrid was scarily well-organized. Everything was planned like a military operation. Heather reckoned her preparations surpassed Hitler's best efforts and maybe even Napoleon's. Mapped out in detail on her laptop, she seemed to have covered all eventualities, including acts of God.

'What do you think?' the blonde beauty asked. 'Have I forgotten anything obvious?'

'Not that I can see. You've even got a contingency for the vicar losing his false teeth.'

'He has false teeth! How do you know that?'

'Lighten up girl, I'm only joking.' Heather clicked on to Ingrid's "daily diary". That was a listing of things to do between then and the wedding. There were at least ten actions a day, every day. Some of them were simple reminders (Has the cake been iced? Is the hairdresser sure she's free?), resolvable with a single phone call. Others involved being out and doing (Dress adjustment; Hear banns; Buy another present for bridesmaids).

'You do all these things every day?'

'Yes, every last one . . . after I've been through the master plan with a fine toothcomb.' Ingrid looked anxious. 'Do you think that's not enough? Am I missing something?'

'I think you ought to be organizing the next royal wedding, not just you own.' For a second Heather was tempted to suggest borrowing the State Landau. Sure she would be taken far too seriously, she held her tongue.

'How about this for a plan,' she said instead. 'I come round here every day at ten on the dot. We go through your master plan together, then divide up the to-do list and do what we can on the dog and bone. If a trip out is needed, I go with you, so I know where to go next time. Obviously I can't go to a fitting for you, but I can stand in for some of these tasks.'

'That's wonderful,' the blonde gushed. 'You'll save me hours a day.'

'It'll give you time to relax and put your feet up,' said Heather. 'Unless there's some more energetic leisure activity you fancy indulging in.'

Ingrid flushed and stared at the carpet. 'There's one that springs to mind,' she mumbled, 'but I can't let myself do it day after day. Not when I'm about to get married. Can we save it until nearer the 31st? So I can call it my last fling as a single woman.'

'Making me wait again, are you?' Heather laughed. 'Sure, I can wait. You'll be all the better for it.'


And so the early weeks of Heather's return followed a pattern. She'd breakfast with Claire and wave her off when she went to work. Then she'd stroll round to Ingrid's and do whatever needed to be done that day. Then she'd lunch with Lauren and, as likely as not, go back to hers for sex. And then she'd go back to Claire's, just in time to meet her when she arrived home.

The deal with Claire was as interesting as it was enjoyable. They alternated roles on a daily basis. On the second night it was Heather's turn to buy meals, pull out chairs and wear the strap-on. Then next night it was Claire's again. And so on and so on. It was an arrangement which worked well for both of them. They didn't see the need for fixing or fine-tuning.


(July 2004)

Leigh came back on the scene almost unannounced. Heather had been getting daily updates, all of the early ones grim and full of woe. She'd assumed Lauren was wishful thinking when, literally out of nowhere, she said she thought Martin was going to get the pink slip. But then, just a couple of days later, there Leigh was, joining them for a pub lunch.

And she joined them afterwards for a romp in bed, too; a good, lengthy romp with the teams regularly changing and everyone happy to play their parts.

'I'm glad I tried it,' she said afterwards, indulging in three-way pillow talk. 'But Lauren's right. It's gross having the same donger night after night. I'll probably try it on my own again, but I'm only going to do one night stands.'

Lauren was hugging her sister and shaking her head at the same time. Her expression was one of happy resignation.

'I'll be able to sleep at nights now,' she said. 'I won't have to lie awake, hoping you'll roll in sometime before dawn, when I know in my heart you won't.'

Heather never did find out what Martin did to deserve the boot. With the twins revelling in each other once more it didn't seem prudent to ask. And Martin was a man, wasn't he? Some men were adept at finding ways to offend; adept and bloody-well predictable. He wasn't very likely to have done anything original and interesting.

That night was her night to wear the harness. After shagging Claire as thoroughly as ever, she took a moment to pass on the news.

'I saw Leigh the other day.' Claire laughed. 'Seeing her on her own is so unusual! I can't quite get my head round it. Anyway, she was a bit down. And she never mentioned her boyfriend at all. I guess this is suspicions confirmed.'

'I worry about them,' said Heather. 'I know twins are nearly always close, But those two are too much. I don't know if it's true, but Lauren told me neither of them had had a lover before Martin. Apart from each other, of course.'

'They've had loads of lovers.'

'Individually, I mean; without having sis there cheering them on.'

'It probably is true. I tried to comfort her before you got back. She told me the same after she'd turned me down.'

'You tried to get Lauren into bed?'

'It was a friendly gesture, believe it or not. The fact I fancied a fuck had nothing to do with it.'

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