Heather's Busy Week Pt. 07

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'Bloody hell, Naz, are you sure you haven't done this before?'

Naz didn't reply. Not in words, anyway. She gripped the bare cheeks of Heather's bum and pulled her closer. Unable . . . unwilling . . . to resist, Heather sank lower. Then Naz's tongue was all the way inside her. Rocking in time to her lover's rhythm, she let out a heartfelt moan.

'I'm going to flood your face here, Naz Hussein. You have been warned.'

Naz neither responded nor missed a beat. And, here and now, even in what she considered to be the dominant position, Heather was unable to deny her. She rode her marvellous, impossibly skilled tongue as long as she possibly could, then made Vesuvius seem like a dud firework.

'Oh my word,' she said a while later, when her breath finally returned. 'I do not believe that was the work of a first-timer.'

'I just did what I like having done to me.' Naz chuckled. 'No, I did what I've always wished a lover would to do to me. Bit of a difference, eh?'

'I've taken notes,' said Heather. 'You're getting it back big-time. Now, how do I get these bum-huggers off?'

'I'm sure you'll find a way. They're a lot more elasticated than they look.'

Heather removed Naz's jeans with relative ease. 'Virgin socks,' she cried with glee. 'I thought you were joking.'

'I never joke when I'm having sex.'

'Neither do I. And these have to stay on until you're not a virgin anymore.'

She quite delicately took off Naz's lacy black knickers and drew in a deep breath. Naz's body was as familiar to her as hers was to Naz. But the metalwork down there wasn't at all familiar. She'd never suspected its existence.

'Where have these sprung from?'

'I don't wear them for football.' Naz giggled. 'I wear them for fun.'

Heather had an even closer look. She'd known in advance that Naz regularly shaved, leaving one of those short, sexy, bristly triangular arrowheads pointing to Heaven. But Heaven hadn't previously had the hardware. As she'd just implied, on training and match days, she obviously divested herself of bodily jewellery.

And I never noticed the tell-tale signs!

Heather shook her head ruefully. Never mind Alex's dodgy gaydar, her own system must be malfunctioning because, until today, she hadn't had the faintest idea about any of it, not even the nipple barbells.

As for below . . .

It was impossible not to be impressed. Naz was double-pierced through the clit hood. A third barbell did the vertical work. Under and around it was a horizontal piercing: a cute, not quite full silver ring with matching beads on either end.

'Is that . . .' she said, tapping the ring. 'Is it . . .'

'It's a horseshoe barbell,' Naz said. 'They work together. One on each side and the other . . .'

'On top,' said Heather, tapping the bottom of the vertical barbell.'

'Oh my god,' gasped Naz. 'Oh your god! Fuck me, Hev. Please fuck me!'

Heather set to it with a will. Concentrating mostly on the metalwork, she made like a whirling dervish, kissing, licking, nibbling, chewing and sucking. And moving the jewellery. The VCH only really moved in a see-sawing sort of way. Naz liked that very much, though. Better still, the horseshoe swung through about 180 degrees; Naz liked that even more.

Heather's only regret was a personal one. She didn't do piercings but had once dithered over getting a stud through her tongue. She had no real desire to be mutilated, but had to admit she'd had several partners with pierced tongues. Those partners had done wonderful things for her. And one of them had waxed lyrical about what happened when her metal-tipped tongue met another girl's intimate piercing. According to her, the contact created an electric current and, if she was really lucky, bright blue sparks.

Hmmm, wet metal-tipped tongue on metal-tipped clit. And it's like sparks flying from a Van de Graff generator!

'I'm, cumming, Hev! On my god, I'm cumming again! Oh, Hev! Yes, yes, yes!'

That third climax might well have been a cumulative seventh for Naz. She came like a tidal wave. Picking her moment with precision, Heather slid her tongue between Naz's engorged labia, onto the mouth of her honeypot. Naz was flowing copiously down there. She tasted like nectar. Heather had never tasted anything more moreish.

'Three times, Hev! You are infinitely better! Oh yes, don't stop! Don't stop!'

Heather had no intention of stopping. Having lapped up most of Naz's flow, she eased the tip of her tongue into the pot itself. Naz was pleasantly tight. Dismissing all thoughts of a host of grateful willies, happy veterans of the well-beaten track, Heather advanced. Her own favourite bit of honeypot was just millimetres inside her opening. She had read somewhere that there were squillions of nerve-endings there. Not as many as her clit, of course, but enough to rival her G-spot. And her G-spot was sensitive indeed.

Speaking of which . . .

Naz moaned, groaned and sighed as Heather concentrated on and around her opening. And then, as she pushed her tongue much further in, she cried out loud.

'Oh Hev! Fuck me, Hev! Oh fucking hell! Yes! Yes! Yes!'

"Hev" brought Naz off for a fourth, fifth and sixth time, then withdrew her ever-so-slightly achy tongue. She kissed Naz's bottom barbell, pushing at the lower bead with her lips, making the girl wriggle and writhe.

'Lie still,' Heather commanded. 'You're going to like this.'

'Hev, I told you already. You're infinitely better. There's nothing left to prove.'

'I'm a woman,' Heather said. 'I don't give up after ten minutes. I go all night. Or are you really asking me to stop?'

Naz took in a deep breath. A very, very deep breath. Her chest heaved and her lovely brown breasts seemed to almost brush the ceiling.

'I'll woman up,' she said. 'And I'm loving every moment. Do me as much as you want.'

'First things first.' Heather removed Naz's white ankle socks and tossed them away. 'Those don't apply anymore, do they?'

'No,' Naz replied. 'And good riddance.'

Heather returned her attention to Naz's fanny. This time she as good as ignored the jewellery, focussing instead on the girl's swollen clitoris. Sucking, nibbling and chewing. Bringing forth an ongoing chorus of moaning encouragement.

'That's good. Oh Hev, that's so good!'

Positioned as she was, crouched between Naz's legs, it was easy-peasy for Heather to take hold of those lovely boobs.

'That's nice,' Naz endorsed.

'Mmmm! Mmmm!' Heather agreed through a mouthful of clit. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her right hand. Leaving her left hand caressing a boob, it slid along Naz's cleavage, over her flat stomach and onto her sex. Well, up to her sex. Heather's head was blocking the way.

'Oh Hev. Fuck me. Fuck me again. Please, Hev . . .'

Considerate as always, Heather sent her hand on a detour. It soon arrived at its destination. A second or so later two of her fingers were buried in stifling hot wetness.

'Fuck me, Hev! Please, please fuck me!'

Heather could feel rougher tissue under her fingertips. It was Naz's G-spot and, like her own, it felt rather like the roof of her mouth. Although, unlike the roof of her mouth, it had magical properties.

'Fuck me, Hev! Please, please, please!'

Naz's hips were moving again. She climaxed for a seventh time without calling for mercy.

'Fuck me, fuck me! Please fuck me!'

Heather's left hand let go of Naz's boob. It traced a leisurely track down her quivering body, at last arriving beneath those two plunging fingers.

'Fuck me. Oh please fuck me. Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!'

'I'm going to fuck you all night.' Inwardly Heather groaned. Had she just gone into next year's supply of verbal "fucks"? 'That is what you want, isn't it?' she continued.

'Too right it is. I wouldn't mind a go myself, but this is . . . is . . . I love it!'

Heather thought of that body jewellery. Sweet and innocent? Hardly! She sent her wicked left hand along a trail of spilt juices. The trail led to Naz's ring. By then Naz was back in moaning and groaning mode. She'd started heavy-breathing too. Her breasts were practically brushing the ceiling again. When Heather started to gently probe she didn't so much protest as grunt approval.

Encouraged, Heather pushed with her forefinger. It went in easily; very easily. Her mouth was fully occupied again, so she had to settle for a mental smile.

The girl's got two well-beaten paths! Some boyfriend or other has been here before me. And more than once.

Keeping up her triple-pronged attack, Heather took Naz through a whole series of orgasms, most of them coming in quick succession. Naz accepted them gladly, adding little screams to her list of sexy, oft-quivering responses. Finally, after what had to have been another seventh big wave, Heather showed her a little mercy. That is to say, she started to attack in a new way altogether.

'Lift your legs. Higher. That's more like it. Try to bend yourself in half. Hold onto the back of your knees. That's right.'

Heather edged forward, forcing her own knees under Naz's lower body. She'd rarely done this but was more than satisfied with their eventual position: sitting on her heels with her knees firmly wedged under Naz's bent body, supporting it. If she'd trusted her balance, Naz probably could have stayed like that without holding onto herself, but she kept hold anyway. She was almost panting in anticipation, probably expecting a spell of fanny licking.

Heather grinned at the sight before her. Naz's nether regions were pointing straight up at the light fittings, undefended and open to assault. Her puckered ring was particularly vulnerable. Which was just as well. Never mind a bit more fanny licking, Naz had more in store.

And she must have brought those toys up here for a reason . . .

It was a delight to kiss the Asian girl's sex again. Running a tongue over her perineum was even nicer. And the gasps Naz gave when she had her ring circled!

'Hev . . . oh my! Oh my, oh my!

Happy in her work, Heather reached for the smallest dildo.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

(Friday, 26th April 2002)

Heather woke first. It felt early but her watch said it was after seven. There were less than two hours to go until her first tutorial. And, after so spectacularly blobbing yesterday, she really, positively had to attend every minute of everything scheduled for today.

Naz was so beautiful, though. She was asleep on her back, her chest rhythmically rising and falling. She was far too nice to resist.

Heather grinned. At some stage during the wee small hours, she had turned off the lights and they'd crawled under the duvet, although not with much intention of sleeping. No, the fun and games had continued in the dark. Lots and lots of fun.

They hadn't lasted quite all night. They had called it quits a while ago, when they'd agreed to have a snooze. That was then, though. Right now the duvet was halfway off the bed and the sun was up. Heather was no longer drowsy; she was re-energized. She lay on her side for a minute and just watched Naz's semi-naked body as she snoozed. Beautiful, so, so beautiful. And brave and daring too. She'd proved her valour yesterday, in the hunt for Carrie and later, here in this bed.

Conscious time was flying, Heather reached for Naz's bare breast, her fingers stopping a few millimetres short. Naz looked so peaceful! It would be a crime not to give her a dream to remember.

Heather's hand moved away from the sleeping girl's boob, nudging its way beneath inches of duvet, gently lighting on her pleasantly warm sex. Studying Naz's face closely, attention never wavering, she rocked her palm, concentrating solely on external stimulation. Naz's breathing gradually quickened but she didn't wake. Heather kept going, restricting herself to the rocking motion, ignoring the impulse to explore in more depth.

And still Naz slept, smiling enigmatically. Or maybe not so enigmatically. Quickening breaths had been replaced by a sequence of short gasps. As Heather watched she began to murmur something, her words blurred and indistinct. Heather frowned. She couldn't tell if the girl was murmuring in English, Urdu or a language she'd invented on the spur of the moment.

Grinning again, Heather upped her pace. Still seemingly sleeping, Naz started to orgasm. The signs were by then only too recognizable. Her gasps became louder and more frequent. Her head twisted from side to side on her pillow, boobs bouncing. Her hips, previously as good as still, began to vigorously buck and grind without following any obvious pattern.

Heat had been building up beneath Heather's palm. Suddenly she felt strong contractions and a gush of wetness.

'Oh good grief!' Naz cried out in English, lifting her lower body completely off the mattress. All of her muscles seemed to have contracted now. Then, after a tiny scream and a final, 'Good grief!' she relaxed and flopped onto the bed.

'I told you I have that saying patented,' Heather chided.

'Good grief, good grief, good grief!' Naz still had her eyes shut. She laughed as they flew open. 'I just had the most incredible dream.'

'What was it about?'

'I was in this enormous zenana, full of comely handmaidens, all with lovely, long black hair. I must have been a sultana, because I had absolute power and their sole mission in life was to give me pleasure.'

'That's my sort of a dream.' Heather chuckled. 'Am I right in supposing a zenana is like a harem?'

'It's as near as makes no difference.'

'And am I also right in assuming you haven't woken up consumed by regrets?'

'You are bang on.' Naz laughed again. 'I don't think I need a critical debate. I might have gone a bit over the top when I said I was a lezzie, but I'm well into lezzie sex.' She hesitated, taking in Heather's smile. 'Is that a word I shouldn't be using?'

'It's one to be careful with,' said Heather. 'I actually like it. A lot of lesbians do . . . depending on how it's used. Between us "women who have sex with women", it can be a humorous term of endearment. But it's not always acceptable. Bitchiness is not unknown. And, if coming from someone piously straight, it can be downright insulting.'

'I see. I'll be careful where I use it.'

'Does that mean you're signing up for LGBT?'

'It's a bit late now. We've only a few weeks left, haven't we? I'm going to use them trying to work out exactly what I am.'

'Naz, you don't have to be anything. Personally, I hate labels and pigeonholes. The last thing you need to do is classify yourself.'

'Maybe I don't, but I do need to find out more about myself before I go home. My community isn't famed for being tolerant. Some of the elders would have me stoned to death if they knew I was shagging men.' Naz smiled wryly. 'I honestly can't say what they'd do if they knew about last night.'

'You are joking.'

'Not entirely. The dinosaurs aren't as bad as I make out. In reality they're very supportive. As is the rest of my family. I'm safe from an honour killing as far as they are concerned . . . or so I sincerely hope. But a lot of other people are prepared take the law into their own hands, even when what they see as "the problem" has absolutely nothing to do with them. And as I said, their punishments include stoning and worse.'

'You really mean that, don't you? It's not a wind-up?'

'I'm not aware of any recent stonings. Not any in Bradford, anyway. Even so, I'm not planning on staying there long. I've tasted freedom. I can't go back to living in purdah.'

'But that's ridiculous. You can't be driven out by a bunch of religious fanatics. Not in this day and age.'

'I want to leave Bradford anyway. It's stifled me all of my life. That's why I've been looking for jobs in London. I can easily lose myself in a more tolerant, mixed-race community down there. It's not a place where everybody knows your business, is it?'

Heather and Naz showered together then walked to university, arm-in-arm rather than hand-in-hand.

'Are we going to do it again sometime?' Naz asked as they neared her classroom.

'We certainly are,' said Heather. 'I'd suggest tonight but my social diary needs a bit of editing. Can I get back to you on that?' Then, seeing Naz's expression, 'I'm supposed to have a date and I never blob once I've committed. As it happens, I've reason to believe my date is going to pull out tonight. I'll chase him up and let you know. If he backs out, you're in. Assuming you fancy it, that is.'

'I do.' Naz didn't add a comment about "him". Instead she kissed Heather, not passionately, but enough to let any onlookers know they were lovers.

'Solidarity, sister,' she said, holding out her fist.

'Friends forever,' Heather countered, bumping knuckles.

The gorgeous Asian girl left to join her classmates and Heather turned, almost barging into Mandy, who was on her way to the same tutorial. Mandy laughed when Heather said sorry out of force of habit.

'I see she's got you at last.'

Heather raised an eyebrow. 'I beg your pardon.'

'Naz has been lusting after you for ages. Everyone knows that.' Mandy smirked. 'Actually, a lot of folk suspect you've been physically at it for ages, too.'

Heather didn't know Mandy very well and intensely disliked that smirk. 'I don't listen to petty rumours or rumourmongers,' she said evenly. 'So no comment.'

'I knew something was in the air yesterday,' Mandy went on relentlessly. 'Naz doesn't usually come to uni flashing her nipple bars. And she never skips a single tutorial, never mind a full afternoon. I sussed straightaway that she was having her dreams fulfilled.'

'No comment,' Heather repeated, leaving the other girl still smirking.

And she's probably ogling my ass, she thought caustically.

Heather's brain whirred as she headed for her own classroom. Bitch or not, Mandy had been believable about Naz's usual, everyday appearance. Normally Naz just looked provocatively good. Full stop. Yesterday she'd looked exceptionally, over-the-top provocatively good. She could not possibly have suspected she'd end up on a Carrie hunt, could she? She must have tarted herself up for some other lover . . .

Except she'd volunteered to join in the hunt with no reluctance at all. And she'd brought along those football photos . . .

Spooky!

Heather arrived three minutes before her tutorial was due to begin, getting there at the same time as her tutor.

'After you,' said Dr Lester with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Heather joined Ruth and Bryn and hastily got out her A4 pad.

'You're looking radiant,' Ruth said with a knowing smile.

'You too,' Heather replied.

'And so I should. I can't tell you what a splash I made on Wednesday night. Jenny was a bit put out, but the guys couldn't take their eyes off me. Or their hands . . .'

There was a world of difference between one of Dr Lester's tutorials and a typical Professor Thomson stand-up show, although both were adept in their own way. Without any digression whatsoever, Dr Lester immediately got down to brass tacks, engaging her audience from her opening words, keeping everybody involved and on their toes. A small, bird-like woman, she filled the room with energy and enthusiasm. As far as Heather was concerned, time flew and the session went by too quickly.

I could sit through that again, she thought, stuffing her belongings into her backpack.

Then she noticed Dr Lester beckoning her. Suspecting she knew what that was going to be all about, she lingered until the other students had left.

'Heather, is everything all right? We're worried about you.'

Heather guessed Dr Lester was speaking on behalf of Business Studies en masse. 'I'm fine,' she said reassuringly. 'Never better.'

'It's been noticed that you've missed classes this week.' The tutor was smiling again, but not yet with her eyes. 'You haven't been ill or anything, have you?'

Truth was clearly the best policy here. 'I've had . . . er, family issues. Except they were with my friend's family, not my own.' Heather could see she wasn't going to get any help so went on: 'My friend overdosed on Sunday. Accidentally, that is. She's here at the University. Carrie Hart, reading Mathematical Sciences.'