I Say Ass, You Say Arse: Different

This is a stand-alone story. It's part of the 'I Say Ass, You Say Arse' series, where nice American scientist Bradley works hard, attends conferences, and is encouraged to collaborate enthusiastically with various British women.

They've been quite an eye-opener for him over the last year, and it looks like that trend may continue...

Previous ISAYSA stories were in the Anal category. This could have gone there or in Romance, but I figured fewer viewers would complain about the content here. The category of this story really isn't a spoiler.

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On the last night at the international conference in England, Bradley joined a group going for an Italian meal. It had been excellent, though very different from Italian restaurants in America. 'Marinara sauce' meant seafood, there, which he had to admit made sense.

After several glasses of house red, and one of the speciality ice-cream cocktails, he considered what other ice-cream and alcohol combos he'd try when he got home. For now, he was relaxed and up for anything.

"I want to dance!" Marion declared.

"I hear Brighton has great nightclubs," Bradley agreed.

One was nearby. "Across the main road and another square," one of the Dutch team said.

"Lead on," Marion replied. "We go to dance!" The loud Frenchwoman shimmied out of the building. Bradley tried not to cringe too much, but he and a dozen others followed-the-leader to a cheap and cheerful nightclub.

"All over 18? Good. Not a hen party. In you go, then," the lacksadaisical bouncer confirmed.

The flashing lights and vibrating sticky floor could have been anywhere in the world. Someone bought a round of drinks; the group he'd entered with danced together for a while before becoming blended with the other patrons. Bradley took a moment to look round. He recalled something his English friends had mentioned, about Brighton being the gay capital of England. It would explain the low number of women inside.

On the other hand, he only needed one woman to make for a good night. A tall, elegant, female figure by the bar caught his eye.

Pale angular face, dark wavy hair, short skirt. Possibly French, in a stereotypical -- pornographic -- way. Not like Marion, whose untidy figure was already several sheets to the wind.

This woman smiled at him when he approached. "Hi. What can I get you?"

He'd wanted a soda, but wasn't saying no to her soft sexy voice. He liked her earrings; sparkly yet tasteful. Bradley liked shiny, especially when he was drunk. Her cleavage was fantastic.

He let her buy him a Coke; she laughed at his accent. "Of course. The new good-looking guys are from abroad," she muttered. Not a conference delegate, then.

They danced a little, soon holding each other close. They were still together as another song began, when they began to touch each other more than friends might.

He liked her crimson lipstick, contrasting with white skin. He had no idea if the girl he'd ended up with the night before might seek him for another night, and in any case, a bird in the hand... This lady looked a bit like that girl -- perhaps a little older and a little curvier; neither bad things.

A slower song encouraged Bradley's hands to roam. She copied him, reaching for his butt as she leaned in to a kiss. It was comfortable, kissing a woman the same height as him. Maybe an inch taller, in her heels. He got really into it, encouraged by her, her female scent, her soft skin, and helped by the drink and role models all around. Most of the couples around him were male, a few female. The only other mixed-sex pair on view proved that, as usual, Marion's prowling had been successful already!

They chatted over a second drink, the woman proving herself bright and funny, before returning to the dance floor. Bradley massaged his new friend's backside, in her slinky black skirt. Given she was doing the same to him, he figured he could make an obvious move.

"You've got an amazing ass," he said into her ear.

"Yeah? Do you like ass?"

"God, yeah," he confirmed. Being introduced to anal sex on his first visit to England, over a year ago, had enhanced his life immeasurably!

"Oh, good!" They spun around on the dance floor, to the cheesy music. She put her mouth to his ear. "I love it in the arse!" Her accent was almost mid-Atlantic; it sounded almost like saying 'ass'. Less foreign. Sexy as hell.

Stumbling over his words in his excitement, Bradley informed her, "I've got a room nearby. In a hotel."

"Yeah? Nice..."

Suddenly worried this was all far too easy, Bradley had to check. "You -- you're not...?" He had to ask. "Do you want money? Because I don't..."

He hoped she wouldn't be offended. Especially, not that she'd know, he was technically whoring himself to be here, at the conference, at all.

She gave a little laugh, like at some private joke. "No, no. I'm just a girl not turning down a nice guy from out of town. You're here for some event, right? Going home soon?"

"Yeah," Bradley confirmed. "My conference ends tomorrow, then I'll be flying back to Newark. I'm young, free, and single. Let's spend the night together?" He realised he was quoting the Stones, and felt like an idiot.

She didn't seem to recognise it, taking his words at face value. "In that case, I should strike while the iron is hot, right? One moment."

She pulled him towards the corridor where the restrooms were. The 'Ladies' appeared to have a line, which Bradley rapidly deduced was not related to the number of women in the establishment. He predicted no stall would become free quickly -- men were entering in pairs... Luckily, his new friend simply rolled her eyes and turned to the 'Gents'.

"You'll wait for me?" She wrapped her arms round his shoulders and they indulged in a tender, yet enthusiastic kiss.

He confirmed he would. She was at least as buzzed as he was, he guessed. Bradley figured he might as well use a urinal. He could pretend she wasn't looking. Even if he had nothing to be ashamed of in that department. He really should ask her name before any sex... Bradley bet mentioning the room he had was at the Grand would be a good seduction line.

He eyed the babe as she waited in line next to him. Not a long wait. Good. He really had drunk more than he was used to.

Out of errant habit, Bradley peeked sideways while standing at the urinal.

His new friend was standing next to him, skirt hoiked up, revealing she had a cock somewhat smaller than his own.

It showed how much he'd drunk. It took him several moments to pin down the cognitive dissonance involved in that fact.

Just a minute...? He must have been mistaken. But another sideways glance confirmed it. Yes, she definitely had a penis.

Bradley knew he really, really didn't want to deal with a penis. Couldn't.

On the other hand, cock notwithstanding, she was clearly a woman by any standard that mattered. The relevant standard was 'she's hot, and her body gets my cock hard', right?

Bradley shook himself, and decided to pretend he'd seen nothing. With the amount he'd drunk, everything was kinda blurry...

Another data point rose to the surface of his alcohol-impaired brain. While he didn't know quite how her plumbing might be configured, he knew one thing. This sexy lady, with her rounded womanly ass, had an asshole. And she'd already said she wanted his cock in it.

What more did a guy need? Especially a guy with a real thing for anal? As a bonus, her tits looked great...

He tried to think of something to say.

She tucked herself back into her panties and shook her skirt back into place, back to looking like any other tall pretty girl. He watched her curved, feminine ass as she walked to the sink, perfect in low heels.

She washed her hands, the final proof that she really was a woman.

Then she looked back at Bradley. She sobered up in a second, suddenly terrified, realising what he'd have seen.

Bradley hated that she was scared. She was trying to hide it, but the woman was tense; almost cowering. Preparing to run from him, if necessary.

Some decisions were easy.

He took a deep breath, grabbed her arms to pull her out of the restroom, then attempted to erase her anxiety with another big kiss.

She was stiff with fear for two seconds, then eased into being even more passionate than he was, lips and tongue desperately exploring his.

Bradley hoped he wasn't just postponing his freak-out for later. He concentrated hard on her ass in his hands and how her soft mouth felt warm on his face.

"Oh, there you are, Brad! Oops, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt! Hell-oh! Who's your new friend?"

Bradley cursed his friend's terrible timing.

He loved Rachel, his snarky English friend, not to mention the girl was beautiful. Tall, slender, long brown hair, practical jeans and boots as usual. He'd loved fucking her the night before, after being set up by his regular friend-with-benefits, but right now he wished she'd fuck right off. Take a long walk off that handy glitzy pier.

Bradley didn't know how to introduce someone whose name he didn't actually know. Not in this context, away from work where you could always mention shared topics. He was saved by the woman's curious gaze at Rachel.

"I know you," she remarked to Rachel, having disentangled herself from Bradley. "You were friends with my little sister. From school."

Puzzled that the woman recognised her, Rachel nodded, fiddling with her ever-present leather jacket as she attempted to remember who this could be. This was a face she'd have remembered! Rachel looked more and more confused as she discounted various possibilities,

Suddenly, realisation dawned upon her face. "Oh! My god! You're Oonagh's... You're Li... um..." She gave up. "What is your name, again?"

The tall woman laughed, her hand settling in Bradley's. "You never knew, I guess. Lisa," she said firmly. "My name's Lisa."

"That's a good choice of name," Rachel agreed. "Not too..." She trailed to a halt, as if realising she was being tactless. A rarity for blunt Rachel, who had no time for dancing round subjects.

Lisa seemed amused. "Not too fetishy, nor twee? No. I didn't want a name that screamed, 'She's trans! And probably has blue hair and is an evangelical vegan!' Like, you know, 'Daenerys'. Or 'Kitty-Fae'?" She shuddered, clearly for comic effect.

Lisa went on, "The LGBT rep at my work is called Lyra, at least 15 years too old to have been named after the book. I thought I was just being bitchy when I made assumptions, but then I met her. She's a sweet thing, but yes, she's trans and blue-haired and a vegan anarchist... Oh, him?" Lisa turned to Bradley. "Sorry, what's your name, love? I should have asked, shouldn't I, earlier!" Back to Rachel, "He knows, already. I fucked up, in the toilets."

The whole conversation had been ignoring him, rather going over his tanked head if he were honest. Bradley found it reassuring that Lisa still wanted to know his name.

Before he could answer, Rachel interrupted: "And he hasn't run away? Good for him! He's a good lad, Bradley. Doesn't panic easily." She grinned, knowing how important that had been to herself the night before. "Make tonight worth his while, yeah? He's got to fly back to Yank-land in a couple days."

Bradley felt he could cope with them talking as if he wasn't there, if that was the sort of thing they were plotting. Letting British women organise his sex life did seem to work remarkably well... He decided he'd stay quiet, listening.

Rachel continued, "Fuck, you look great! Wow! It's so nice to see you looking so happy! When you were a teenager, you nearly always seemed depressed."

"Funny, that." Lisa's cheerful tones went flat. "Teenage puberty and gender dysphoria together was a bit shit, really."

Rachel winced. Bradley decoded 'a bit shit' as British understatement making for a strong intensifier: meaning 'really, really, fucking shit, actually'. He ushered both women to a table and replenished their drinks.

Once Bradley brought his brain into focus, he was amused by the similarities between the two women. Both were tall, brunettes, witty and sarcastic, and, he figured, were cloaked in similar veneers of defensiveness, as if expecting rejection for who they were. Getting past Rachel's the night before had turned out very well for him...

Bradley didn't pretend to know anything about trans issues. To be honest, he cared less. But he did know that if a hot woman came on to him, who wanted him to make out and play with her tits and ass, it would be plain stupid to turn her down because of a weird appendage. It was like if she had a weird mole on her pussy, or something, right?

It wasn't as if there was a line of women gagging to have him fuck them up the ass, after all.

Lisa seemed clever, funny, and nice. And she wanted to have sex with him.

That was quite enough thought on the subject. Especially while he was drunk. It wasn't like he was going to marry her, or anything.

Rachel was still catching up with Lisa. "Are you still in touch with your family? Oonagh's never said anything, but we've not talked, recently. Mostly, nowadays, we just Like each others memes, on Facebook."

"Mm. I was lucky. Sort of." Lisa sighed, decided to 'fess up. "After a serious suicide attempt, the parents got on board and agreed to throw any money necessary at the problem. Which of course they've got." Lisa stroked her cheek. "It's one way to get rid of teenage acne..."

"I was thinking, my compliments to your surgeon. Sorry, that's probably really rude, isn't it?" As a sort of apology, Rachel added to Brad, "They did have excellent starting material to work with, though."

Lisa laughed. Bradley liked it.

"Are you saying you fancied me, back when you used to spend holidays at ours?"

Rachel was sheepish. "My friend's hot older brother? Knew how to wash and wasn't a complete dick? Of course I did! Argh! Sorry, I'm mis-gendering..."

"Get over it. I mean, yeah, I'm a woman, but when you start talking about the past it gets a bit complicated even for me to get words right. Given what everyone, including me, thought I was." Lisa knocked back half her drink. "If you treat me like a person, not a freak, I won't jump on every mangled pronoun."

Lisa smiled as she continued. Bradley guessed she didn't get to talk about her past much; not without eliding large parts of the truth. "One good thing about the name Liam -- when people say it by mistake, it sounds like they've got the first syllable right, just can't remember if I'm Lisa, or Leesha, or something else. Anyway, how are you?"

Rachel shrugged. "OK. Much better since leaving school, and could embrace being queer as fuck."

"Yeah? I had wondered."

"Yeah. Women, men, anyone is fair game; kinky as hell. I've got a lovely girlfriend, finally, but she lives in London and I'm nearing the end of a post-doc in Barcelona, so we only see each other on weekends or at conferences. Luckily, we also see other people." She grinned impishly at Bradley. "So I had him last night."

"Or I had you. A good time was had by all." Bradley felt the need to contribute something to the conversation.

Rachel pursed her lips, amused. "Indeed. And, Lisa? Just saying, right, he really likes fucking girls up the arse. I mean I don't know... like, how you react down there... So, like, just saying..."

Lisa glanced at Bradley, who still had his arm round her, definitely not running away from the 'chick with a dick'. Nor did it seem he was fetishising her, as his chance to suck cock while pretending to be straight. Like so many men did.

Bradley shrugged. "It's true. I love pushing my cock into a beautiful woman's fine ass."

"Are you good at it?"

"You wanna find out?"

"It sounds a reasonable way to spend the evening," Lisa replied, coquettishly.

"Good. I've got a bedroom at the Grand Hotel."

Rachel clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice one. Perfectly played!"

Lisa was suddenly nervous again. "Are you wanting dick? Lovely lady-boy cock?" Her tone clarified she very much hoped not.

Bradley shook his head. "Like I keep having to tell people for some reason," he glared at Rachel, "I don't do men, I don't do cock." He spread his palms wide. "You seem to be woman enough for me."

Rachel added, "He's right. So many sad chaps, left in his wake! He didn't even like my cock..." That was faked sadness, for sure.

"Well, it was okay," Bradley replied. "A masterpiece of silicone sculpture, I'm sure."

"Exactly. He's got lovely manners, our Bradley, but as he said: really, not into cock. But hey, you've got tits and ass, what more do you need?"

"Tits and ass?" Lisa asked. She started singing, a confident alto, "Bought myself a fancy pair, fattened up the derrière!

Did the nose with it. All that goes with it..."

Bradley knew the Chorus Line song, and chuckled at Lisa's embracing the idea. He joined in, arm round her. "But tits and ass, won't get you far, unless.... they're.... yours!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Go on, you guys. Get a room. Oh, you have. Get into it, then. I'll hang round here a while."

Bradley and Lisa had a quick whispered discussion.

Then Lisa said, "If you're left alone to turn into a pumpkin by midnight, send him a text. I mean, you were always the hot friend of my little sister... If you can promise never, ever, to mention anything to her, that is."

Rachel splayed her hands, helpless. "Now I don't know whether to hope I pull someone, or if I should plan to fail!"

Bradley shrugged. "Does it matter? We'll take a couple hours, first. First time with a girl, I like a little privacy."

"Yeah, right! How many threesomes have you had? Like it's more than zero!" Rachel knew Bradley was actually an unadventurous sort.

Or at least, he had been, before finally losing his anal cherry to their friend Emily. And he hadn't run away from her, yesterday, even when she'd tested him a bit. Simply the odd, 'no, thank you', when he wasn't interested in something, though he'd also taken her accidentally still wearing her strap-on cock in his stride. And even trying on her collar.

That was a point -- where had her collar ended up? He'd expressed enthusiasm for shagging Rachel again, along with her girlfriend, but then everyone wanted that woman's body...

Bradley grinned as he ushered Lisa to the exit. "You think I've never had a threesome? Ask Emily how I met Richie!" Richie was a senior postdoc, some years older than himself, Rachel and Emily. Richie had no time for fools nor relationships, but he and Emily liked fucking when they were in the same country.

Bradley liked being able to shock Rachel, for once. Rach was always the outrageous one, compared to outwardly-respectable Emily. Rachel didn't need to know that the threesome had been an accident, Richie strolling in just as Brad's dick was sunk in Emily's sweet ass...

Lisa simply looked amused. "And you looked like such a sweet, straightforward, lad..."

"Seriously, I really am! I'm just a regular guy, y'know? I like women, I like women's asses... I'm a normal heterosexual red-blooded all-American guy. It's the Brits, I swear! Any time I meet anyone English, they make it more complicated!"

To be fair, Emily hadn't meant to, on his first trip to London. But she had lied, to persuade him to fuck her ass on his last night in the country, and given him jet lag from hell! Then she'd just not mentioned Richie's existence the next time they'd fucked. Or, this week, neglected to inform him that her ass was already full of Richie's cum from that morning. In some ways, Rachel and now Lisa both having cocks which they didn't want to use on him was comparatively simple... Bloody English women!