Honey Always Tastes Better from the Pot

The sound of two car doors closing caught my attention. I looked between the slats of the white picket fence surrounding the Gumtree Café. I could see through to the car park beyond, but all I could see, because of the angle and the vertical lattice of the fence, were the slim legs and asses of two women walking past. One wore black leggings, hugging tight to her thighs and nicely curved backside. The other was wearing bike pants in a dark green cloth, skin tight with a black centre vee and silver stripes to catch at reflections.

I could hear the light chatter of two voices, then the clang of the gate as it shut. I turned back to my phone, scrolling through the news feed as I waited for my coffee. A couple of minutes later the two women came out to the courtyard and sat at a table several metres away. Covid spacing - the café had left it as it had been, before restrictions were lifted.

I looked across at them, to finish my appraisal. They were in their late twenties, two healthy looking girls who'd been for a walk in the nearby national park, maybe, which would explain the attire and their faces still flushed from the cold: a fast walk to keep warm. Dark leggings girl wore a colourful knitted jumper that hinted at curves but didn't reveal them, with shoulder length dark hair and dark eyes. On a second look she might have been a few years older than I'd originally thought, early thirties.

Her friend faced away, so all I could see was her tight little bum on the chair, her body hidden in a quilted jacket, and long blonde hair in a high pony tail.

My coffee arrived, brought by Jasmyn who I knew, this being my regular place. We chatted for a moment, and when she laughed, the two women looked towards us, curious perhaps at our happiness. The dark eyed girl saw me watch Jazz walk away, and she grinned, leaning forward to say something to her blonde friend, who turned her head towards me.

At that moment, the other waiter came out with their meals, looking down, looking sideways, as he always did.

"He reminds me of someone," the dark haired girl said when he'd gone, "from a movie."

"Borat," I called over, "that comedy movie," to save them from guessing.

"God yes, he does. Borat. That's right. Do you remember that one?" she asked her friend, touching her arm as she did so. "That daft comedy, a couple of years ago? Five years ago, even."

"I do." The blonde woman looked from her friend back to me, and shifted her chair around, so she no longer looked over her shoulder. I saw she had blue eyes and honey blonde hair and high cheek bones. She could be Scandinavian.

"Yah, I remember it." She wasn't Scandinavian, she was American. From where in America, I didn't know. I can't place all American accents - Californian, New Yoick, the clichéd American south, that was about it.

Wherever she was from, ice was broken, and for the next twenty minutes we chatted as if we were the best of friends. And by the end of it, we were, even though we sat at two tables.

"I'm Emma, and this is Bobbie," the dark girl said, as they stood up.

"David," I replied. "It's been lovely to meet you."

"Yes, you too. We might do it again, one day."

"Why, do you come here often?"

We all laughed, and as we went out to the car park, ladies first, Bobbie turned and touched my arm. "It really was lovely chatting. I liked it."

She looked up at me, and I realised how tiny she was. Barely there, snug in her warm quilted jacket.

* * * *

A couple of weeks later I went again to the café, and as usual went out to the courtyard after ordering. Inside was too noisy, and the tables outside caught the winter sun.

"David? Look, Emma, it's David."

Bobbie stood up and beckoned me over. "Hey, come sit with us, if you like." Emma stood too, and I went over to them. They both pressed up against me in a tight two girl hug, pushing themselves up to me. My arms went around them automatically, pulling them close to my body. I could smell the perfumes in their hair. Bobbie tippy-toed up to brush her lips against mine.

"That's a very nice greeting," I said, as we sat down around the table, the girls sitting next to each other.

"We were talking about you, actually, remembering last time, how we all got along."

Emma leaned forward, revealing a small slice of cleavage. It was warmer that day, her breasts revealing their curves in a button-down shirt. Several buttons were undone on that shirt. The girls looked at each other, and I sensed a conspiracy.

"Yah," said Bobbie. "We were kinda hoping we might see you. So we chose Wednesday, on the basis, it might be your day."

I cast my mind back to the last time we met, that first time. "Was it a Wednesday, last time? I lose track of days, to be honest."

"Well, it's Emma's day off, she only works four days a week, so every month or so I come up from town, stay over. And we have a day and a night to ourselves, just us girls." Bobbie looked at me, and her eyes were pale blue, like the sky. She caught a wave of hair between her fingers, up near her cheek, and coiled it around three times. I counted. She looked at me and smiled. "I go straight to work in the morning. With Emma, on the train. I don't bother going back to my place first."

"We're both single," said Emma, "and really, we're both straight. But sometimes, you know, it's just easier. We've known each other for ages, ever since Bobbie was here for a couple of years in high school. Her dad was in Australia for a big project."

I looked at them both, from one to the other and back again. They both gazed right back at me.

"Let me get this straight," I said. "You both like men, but sex with each other is easier, because you're both single? And you were hoping to find me here, on a Wednesday, because you talked about me? After our chance meeting, that last time."

"We figured," said Bobbie, "that since we'd already met, and you seemed really friendly, it would be, you know, easier. This next time."

"Plus you're older," Emma added, "so you'd appreciate it more. Two young women." She grinned. "On a plate!"

"And you'd know what women like. We thought you might, anyway, the way you look at that cute waitress. You appreciate women." Bobbie shrugged, as if to say, we're women, maybe you'll appreciate us.

"It's not every day one gets an offer like that."

"Well, it is Wednesday," said Emma.

"And I've got the day off," added Bobbie, "so it works out really well."

"Just as well it's not Thursday, then," I said.

"Is that your regular day?" Bobbie looked at Emma. "Wow, that's a piece of luck. That you came here today, Wednesday."

I laughed. "I don't have a regular day. It's completely random."

"So," said Emma, "completely random man. What do you say?"

"I'd say I'd like that, very much. Unexpected, I'll say that -"

"But easier," Bobbie jumped in. "And I mean, look at us." She curled her hands down in front of herself and Emma, like a magician's assistant declaring there were no tricks about them, none at all.

Just then, my coffee and snack arrived, and the spell was broken. The women finished their own meal - they'd already been served - and I shared my cornflake cookie, three ways. We talked for about twenty minutes, enjoying each other's company and the sun. It was on my back, warming me. The table was under an umbrella, and there was a line of shade that flickered and moved with the wind, right across it.

"Are you busy this afternoon?" Emma asked, returning to their earlier proposal.

"What kind of random question is that?"

They laughed, and Emma said, "Follow my car, then. It's not far."

As they walked before me through the car park, I saw that Emma was only a few inches taller than Bobbie, somewhat curvier, but not much. I began to think of their geometries and mine, and how we might fit together.

Emma's place wasn't far away, maybe ten minutes. I followed her Mazda through the houses, down a curved street, across a level crossing, and up into a cul-de-sac. She drove up a steep drive and parked in the carport, and I pulled up behind her. The house was typical Hills suburbia, blond brick, tiled roof, with a raggle-taggle native garden.

Beside the front door there was a sign on the wall, Emma's Place. I touched the sign. "I've arrived, then."

"You have." She touched my cheek. "Welcome to my place."

"My sign's at the back door," Bobbie said, and blushed.

"You Americans, all hint and no subtlety," said Emma, unlocking the front door. "Come on in. Sorry about the mess."

Bobbie's tight little bum had new meaning, as I followed the women through the door.

The house wasn't so much messy, more "occupied" by women who were both practical and time-rushed. They took their coats off and hung them on sensible hooks in the hall. "Here," said Bobbie, "let me hang yours."

"Could you take your boots off?" Emma asked, bending down to unlace hers. "I've got thick guest socks, keep your feet warm." She handed me a pair.

"My hands get so cold." She rubbed her hands briskly together, and put them up to my cheeks. "See."

"God, they are cold." I took her hands between mine to warm them.

"Ooo, nice, you've got warm hands." She looked up at me and smiled. "I do like a man with warm hands."

"What are yours like, Bobbie?"

"You'll see." Her eyes sparkled, and this time she'd didn't hide the blush.

"Would you like another cuppa?" Emma asked, "even though we've just had one."

And at that point I realised what I wanted more than anything else, was to be swept up into their domesticity, to be a part of their obvious, playful affection for each other, these ordinary, every-day women with uncomplicated lives. Who clearly liked sex. With a man they barely knew.

"Why not?" I replied, knowing that if I didn't drink it, it wouldn't matter. "Tea, if you've got it."

"No sugar," said Bobbie, knowing how I drank coffee. "Unless you take sugar with tea."

"No sugar," I confirmed.

"See, I told you he was a sweetheart."

I looked from Bobbie to Emma. "How long have you guys been planning this?"

"Pretty much from that first time we met you. We got home, did stuff in the garden, then had too much wine with dinner..."

"Yah. We fucked, and afterwards agreed a cock would be good."

"And we thought of yours."

"And hoped I'd be at the café, on Emma's Wednesday?"

"Yah, that's pretty much it."

I was silent for a moment, digesting it all. They were both looking at me with a constant gaze and the softest of smiles, as if they knew the answer already.

"Emma's Wednesday, huh?" I said.

"When I come up from the city," finished Bobbie.

"That's it then," I said. "I've gotta say, you make it uncomplicated."

Emma shrugged, "Easier that way. Bobbie, why don't you show David around, while I make the tea."

"Sure. Follow me." So I did, following her cute little ass. She looked over her shoulder with a grin. "Like what you see?"

"Sure do!"

"There'll be more. You're not in a hurry?"

"Nope. Got all day."

"Good," she said. "So do we. Here's the back room. Oops, excuse the skimpie line."

Skimpie line? Ahh, a clothes horse underneath a heating vent, strung with a line of lacy knickers and bras, a couple of pairs of dance tights, and a few plain white tiny white knicks. I guessed they were Bobbie's, being smaller.

Bobbie saw me looking. "Since I spend so much time dancing and teaching, I usually get around in leotards and dance tights. My boobs are tiny, so I hardly ever wear bras. Those little knicks are mine, from the girl's section at Target."

"And sexy Emma does the lingerie?"

"You got it."

"Nice," I said. "You do sexy, too. Just saying."

"Little sexy, huh? Thanks." She accepted the compliment.

"Down the end of the hall, there's the toilet, if you need it."

I nodded, and went down the hall.

"Nice ass," I heard her say. I could hear the smile in her voice, with that soft American accent. I thought about male and female gaze, and here it was, in abundance.

I lifted the seat and unzipped, and let loose a long stream of piss to the side of the bowl, to quieten my masculinity. There's something erotic, hearing a woman take a pee, but I was in their territory, not mine, and I didn't need to announce my animal nature. They'd already let me in, like a cat.

My cock was thick from the piss and their presence. I shook the last drop, tucked myself back in. I flushed the toilet and put the seat back down. The bathroom was off to the left from the hall, so I went in to rinse my hands, and once again was surrounded by women living in the absence of men.

A pack of tampons on the window-sill, several bottles of perfume and deodorant lined up along a short shelf. Shampoos and hair conditioners in the shower, on a crowded ledge. Two women, two different brands. Different lipstick colours, too.

I'd only seen them after their walks, fresh faced with only a touch of colour on their lips. I looked at the bottles and tubes without touching, and saw that one of them preferred lighter pastels and floral perfumes - Bobbie, I guessed, with her fairer skin and blonde hair. Emma then, with the darker reds and citrus scents. I immediately thought of their intimate scents, and felt my cock thicken.

I dried my hands on a lavender towel, and looked at myself in the mirror, wondering, how is this even happening?

I went back down to the kitchen, glancing in on an untidy bedroom, the bed-covers pulled quickly up, some clothes on the floor. A girls' mess. Back in the kitchen, Bobbie was sitting on the counter and Emma stirred a third cup of tea. "Weak or strong?" she asked, looking down at the tea-bag.

I saw the colour in the cup. "That's fine," I replied. "Not too much milk." I took the offered cup. "Thanks."

Emma curled her cold fingers around her own hot cup, took in a deep breath... and the whole room seemed to slow down as she exhaled. "God, I've needed this," she said.

My vision sharpened. I turned slowly to see Bobbie pull her sweatshirt up over her head, revealing a tight top clinging to her breasts. She was braless, and her nipples were firm points, pushing up against the cloth. There was nothing of her really, tiny breasts on a slender body, with honey blonde hair falling nearly to her waist.

"Take it off, if you like," she whispered.

I looked from her to Emma, and Emma's eyes were dark. She licked her lips, and nodded. They'd decided then, who to go first: Bobbie, with Emma watching.

I went up to Bobbie and stood between her legs. I placed both my hands on her waist, but before I could pull her closer to me, she brought both legs up and wrapped them around my body, trapping me. I didn't struggle.

"I'm sixty-one inches tall," she said, "and thirty-two inches of that is leg. Being a dancer, I've got the strongest thighs. You won't believe how strong a hold I've got."

She squeezed. I believed her. She pulled me closer and tilted her head up for a kiss. At first it was a tentative kiss, enjoying the taste of her lips, then her tongue started to push, and her kiss became hungrier, wetter. I felt her swallow. My hands took the hem of the garment, pulled it up. We broke the kiss, so I could pull the top up over her head.

Bobbie arched her head right back, and her hair fell. Her breasts sat small on her chest, hard nipples erect in two peaks.

"Hope you don't mind little tits," she said.

I didn't reply, my mouth covering one of her tits already, my tongue curling around a nipple.

"Mmmm, and the other one." She held my head to her breast, as I took the firm flesh into my mouth with a gentle bite. I looked up to see her eyes closed, and went back to her sweet mounds. "Ohhhh, that's... so good."

She pushed me back some, and began to undo the buttons on my shirt. Her legs were still wrapped around me. I reached my hand out towards Emma, wanting to draw her in close. I saw how her throat was flushed, her eyes dark with arousal.

"Emma, take your shirt off, let me see you."

She did so, revealing a grey sports bra. She reached behind her back to undo the clip. Emma's breasts were bigger than Bobbie's, but not by much. I held an arm out to her, pulling her in close. I wanted them both right next to me - another tight hug, like they gave me back at the café.

Bobbie finished undoing my shirt and ran her hands inside it, pulling it up from my jeans, peeling it back from my body. Emma pulled it away from my arms. She tossed the shirt aside, and slid her hand around to my chest. Bobbie had her mouth on my left nipple, sucking up my own tight teat. She gave it tiny bites. I moaned.

"Ooo, you like that." She bit harder, and I felt that first quick jab of pain behind my chest, arcing instantly down to my cock. I felt Emma's hot breasts against my back, and her fingers tugging and pulling at my other nipple. I grabbed the bench top to steady myself. The girls had both my nipples stiff and hard within seconds. My cock throbbed again, with the sharp pleasure of their attention.

"His nipples are like yours, Bobbie, so responsive." I felt Emma's lips on my shoulder. She kissed me gently, then bit me lightly, and I was in between two fierce little animals.

"Fuck, that's good," I whispered.

"You like being bitten?" Emma asked. I nodded. "Good," she replied. "We're hungry. We might be vampires, hungry for your blood." Unaccountably, she put on a English accent when she said it. It worked. I'm a sucker for a posh English accent, and girls with sharp teeth drinking blood.

"You can be Mina," said Bobbie, "and I'll be Lucy, the blonde one."

"And I must be Jonathan Harker," I said, giving myself into their fantasy. They were acting out mine already.

"Does Jonathan Harker have a fine cock?" Emma asked. "Let's find out."

Bobbie released me from her grip, giving Emma room to undo my belt, pull down the zip. She reached in to my jeans to cup my coiled shaft.

"Mmmm," she said, giving me a squeeze. "I can feel your heat." In one movement, she took the waist of my jeans and my briefs, and pulled them quickly down. She crouched, to pull the clothes from my feet.

"Clothed females, naked male, huh?" said Bobbie. "Yah, that's nice. Fuck, that's very nice."

She gazed at my cock as it quickly grew to a full erection, helped by Emma's hand.

"Half clothed females, to be pedantic," Emma commented, holding my shaft up against my gut. Her breasts pressed against my back. I saw a faint flush redden on Bobbie's throat, her eyes still devouring my cock. "I think," Emma continued, "we should take you to bed. What do you say, Bobbie?"

"Yah, let's go to bed."

She slid down from the bench, took my cock in one hand, and began walking backwards to the hall.

"Turn around," said Emma, "before you crash into the wall."

Bobbie did, but didn't let go of my shaft. She pulled me along - I went willingly. Emma followed, her hand in mine. We were a people train, making our way to their bedroom. A cock in the hand...

Once in their bedroom, Emma flicked dropped clothes off the bed, pulled back the covers, and Bobbie pushed me back onto it. I lay with my cock rigid, bouncing up from my belly. My lips were dry. I licked them. I looked up at the women, who looked down on me. I took in a deep breath, almost quivering. Fuck, they had control over me.

They stood side by side, arms around each other's waists. Bobbie was a few inches shorter, but her long legs were much the same length as Emma's, which meant their cloth covered crotches were side by side. I blatantly stared, imagining their sexes, then I slowly looked up their torsos to their faces.

Bobbie's hair was longer, hiding her breasts like Godiva. Emma's curves and tight nipples, God, they were so lovely. I closed my eyes to believe it, and when I opened them, the women were still standing there.

"Good choice, there, Bobbie," said Emma, her eyes so very certain, her gaze full of desire. Her head was ever so slightly tilted, as if she were studying me, checking me out all over.