I Say Ass, You Say Arse: Different

Would he, Brad, ever find a wife at all, let alone one content for him to have sex when out of the country? Presumably he'd have to allow her the same. How would he feel about that?

He looked up at Emily. He certainly had no problem with Em shagging Richie. She could probably instil some humanity into the guy, who came across as a science-obsessed robot half the time. Which was quite something, given that traditional social niceties weren't common in labs.

He was also delighted that Rachel and Emma were so happy together. Even more by that, than by their invitation for him to join them for shenanigans in the summer, which was an interesting realisation. He suspected that would be a very interesting weekend indeed... Who knew what Rachel and Vera might indulge in at some point? He guessed, rightly in fact, that tonight they really would be just talking into the night. Like a girlie sleepover.

In the meantime, he had Lisa to accompany him back upstairs.

Emily gave him a meaningful look. "You're having a good week!" She glanced at Rachel, who was giggling at something Vera had said.

Lisa got the implication. "Is she calling you the town bike? Ridden by everyone?"

"Really, I'm not! Not normally! I was a young innocent guy -- until I met Emily!"

Emily objected. "That's not totally true, is it? I had nothing to do with you meeting this girl, did I? Really, Lisa, Brad's a sweetheart. We just encourage him to... show his wild side. He's a sweet respectable boy, honest he is. Night-night, guys, get some sleep!" Emily told them sternly.

Bradley and Lisa escaped to the elevator. "They're a nice bunch," she said.

"Yeah. They are. Nuts, but great people." He sighed. "It's why we do it. That, and the experiments."

He smiled ruefully. "That feeling of knowing that you know something about how the world works, that no-one else in the whole world knows? That can't be beat! Telling your boss comes close, I suppose. Actually, 'Your paper has been accepted for publication' is way up there. Cos that means your career can keep going."

"You know, with all that constant stress over funding you all have, I think I'm quite happy about being an accountant."

"You do you, hon. Ah, the room's been made up! And Emily's not going to be coming in."

"I'm not surprised you're a bit paranoid about unexpected guests! Do you think Richie's really going to shag Emily on that open balcony?"

"Almost certainly. I don't think he's got the imagination to lie," Bradley decided. "But I don't care. Wanna do some things we wouldn't want unexpected guests to see?"

This time, they removed each others clothes in a passionate rush. Knowing it would be good, Lisa knowing he wasn't going to run away from her genitals, Bradley sure he wouldn't either, gave them both confidence, adding to their desperate want. The cold March night drove them hastily under the heavy bedspread and crisp white sheets. Face to face, cleaving to each other for warmth, and then kissing because the other's face was right there...

Bradley shifted, so as to kiss down her neck towards those breasts he'd loved the night before.

He tried not to flinch as his cock brushed against hers.

Whether she'd noticed the touch or his unconscious recoil, or not, he couldn't tell. But she pulled away from him. Not to remonstrate, as he'd first thought, but so as to push herself down the bed.

Her mouth on his cock.

Bradley tried to relax and enjoy it. There was an annoying fragment of guilt getting in the way. He knew he could never bring himself to reciprocate.

The size of that piece of guilt melted rapidly, thanks to his cock being sucked by a hot woman who knew what she was doing. Even more importantly, she was obviously enjoying herself doing it. Showing off, even.

Lisa stretched out along the sheets. Her head rested on his thigh so she could blow him in comfort.

Bradley lay back, letting the liquor in his brain melt all his recent memories into soft-focus. He only drank beer, normally, but with wine at meals and spirits passed round at parties, this week had been a heavy one. Thank fuck for the endless free coffee which had kept him going!

Coffee and fucking would be his main memories of this week. Emily's round ass, Rachel mellowing around him and unbelievably tonguing his ass, Lisa's hot body and being a truly lovely person.

It was a shame he couldn't stay in the same country as Lisa. Maybe she could come visit? Her hot competent mouth round his cock was something he never wanted to have end... Of course, he thought that every time he'd been sucked off in his life, but this woman really was something special...

She murmured something.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Hell yeah," she answered, his perfect fantasy woman. "So nice, doing this as a woman..."

He should have asked what she meant. But she laid her long body along his and took his length back into her throat, so he wasn't questioning anything.

He truly didn't care how many cocks she might have sucked, nor why. They'd got her to this point, with him. And her lips were so soft, and so warm...

He wanted it to go on forever.

Only he needed to come. Always that horrible, excruciating, pleasurable choice.

He held off for as long as he could, savouring Lisa's tongue round his head and the tension in his balls. Finally, though, he had to give in.

Seeing her face shiny from where half his cum had soaked her -- she'd made an amazing attempt to swallow -- she might be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"God, you're awesome," he told her, once he could speak again.

She seemed embarrassed. "Thanks. You, too."

He noticed the bedding moving over her, as if she were squirming. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, my clit wants it so much..."

He figured out what she was rubbing.

"Would you?"

"I... I can't."

"I'm not asking you to suck... Any chance of your hand?"

He wanted to pleasure her. If it didn't make him want to spew. He thought. "Maybe, if you had your hand round, so there's just... your clit showing?"

She looked into his eyes, checking he was okay to have his finger lifted and placed onto a soft wrinkle of skin that certainly felt nothing like his cock. It must be...

"Clit hood," she told him firmly.

"Uh-huh," he convinced himself, shoving the word 'foreskin' out of his mind. He'd never touched one of those, so would take Lisa's word for the fascinating, tender, intricate flesh beneath his fingers. "And there, that's, under...?"

Her gasping moan, as he touched the rougher, more sensitive area under that hood, convinced him. This really was her clit.

Watching her arch her head back, exposing that delicate pale throat -- god, he'd love to mark that with a line of hickeys, too bad it wasn't still winter -- groaning as he rubbed her most sensitive spot -- he was engrossed.

She surprised him by pushing him away and rolling away from him, at what had seemed to be a moment of intimate ecstasy.

Then he realised. He supposed he was grateful not to have to deal with... What should he call it? The obvious words were too off-putting. Juices, he decided. Women got juicy. He really was happy not to have to deal with that. Who'd have thought a woman could get too wet?

He snorted to himself. Then felt he had to explain.

She didn't object. "A woman can be too wet? Huh. I guess, you're right."

"The question is, is it still rude to make a lady sleep on the wet patch if she produced it herself? Dear Abby didn't cover such things..."

Result. He'd made her blush and giggle. While also making sure he didn't have to deal with... Anyway, she was kissing him again, so he hadn't offended her, she hadn't freaked him beyond coping. All was good.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Definitely need my clit sorted out. No! Nothing to do with you or anything you did! Or didn't. I'd already made the decision, I told you, yesterday. This just confirms I'm doing the right thing. Roll on with the scalpels..."

"Oh, honey..."

Kisses, cuddles, and groping her adorable cute ass were all he could offer. He didn't have words to explain how he hoped she'd get a body that fit right. He didn't pretend to understand. Though now he thought about it, he could guess what she'd meant earlier.

"Did you blow guys before? When they knew you're a woman, I mean?"

"I suppose -- not really? Not when they wanted a woman, if you see what I mean? They were getting off on the 'shemale' doing it, not me. God, that's such an Eighties word! You get it, though? On the plus side, I could get sucked off a lot. If I didn't care what they think of me."

"I'm sorry, I just can't."

"Really, don't! You're being with me -- that's way more important. But if you want to make me happy... my bum is all yours..."

That sultry voice would, he hoped, stay in his ear.

"Or try fingering me between my thigh and the skin above? It just needs a little rearranging... It's practically a pussy..."

"I dunno."

"While you recover? Getting ready to shove your cock up my filthy sexy hole?"

Oh, boy. She was getting him hard again already, with her dirty talk. "Yeah, I can try. God, I really want to have your sweet ass again! Give me a minute."

While getting his blood back, he might as well fondle up her leg. He'd always liked women's thighs.

"I'll hold it out your way." He knew what she meant.

Rubbing his cheek against her chest, he let his fingers explore. It was a bit like being a virgin again; not so much unsure of what he'd find, but knowing he didn't know how it would feel.

She was holding everything away from his hand. The soft wrinkle he found at the top of her leg -- yes, that was familiar. Nice. The bit just in front: looser skin, labia? Again, familiar? He pressed, and felt a resistance way too familiar from his own body. Not something he wanted to touch, when it belonged to anyone else.

He jerked his hand away, feeling bad again. Bradley moved his mouth to suck on her perfect breast, hoping it was sort of compensation.

"Oh, that's nice! I guess down there is just off limits? Ah, well. Really, I don't mind."

He lifted his face off her nipple. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting balls. No! I guess I thought they'd go, when you had the previous surgery. Or kinda... dwindle? Don't you have to take hormones?"

"Yeah. That did most of the job of changing my body shape and all. I wasn't a particularly masculine-looking male. Everyone in Brighton assumed I was queer, already, not to mention family encouraging me to come out. So actually, they haven't done that much. Laser treatment on the chin probably clinched it more than anything else." She stroked her cheek, thoughtfully. "You never had any doubts? That I was a woman?"

Bradley shook his head. "No. I spotted you, liked what I saw, saw a woman. Even when I saw... I mean, I wanted you, I'm straight, so there we go, my dick says you're a woman. It seemed like a good place to stop thinking."

"Yeah. Thinking's overrated, sometimes."

"Lady, you say that. But I was thinking how you'd feel round my cock. Again."

"You like that, don't you?"

He recognised that playful expression from Rachel's face, two days earlier. His lab seemed a lifetime away. "Yeah, I love it! Having an awesome sexy girl wanting my cock inside her. Watching her moan because she's so tight around me. Fucking her, getting squeezed so tight..."

"Only kinda dirty girls let blokes fuck them up the arse," she teased. "Do you like dirty girls?"

Emily, Rachel, now Lisa. "Hell, yes!"

"Uh-huh. I think you're a dirty boy, too. You try to sound like a proper prudish American visitor, yeah? A nice boy-next-door type, right? I bet you've even gone to church. And been a Boy Scout?"

He couldn't argue. He'd made Eagle Scout and the choir.

"But while you talk all nice and polite and no swearing, you're a right filthy bastard!"

"Hey!"

"If the cap fits, boyo. I'm what, the third woman you've fucked this week?"

He couldn't deny it, blushing.

"And you've taken all of them up the tradesmen's entrance? The back passage. Between the mudflaps. The sin of sodomy..."

"Actually, the sins of the City of Sodom were not helping the poor and needy, and being unwelcoming to..."

"Shut up! You've had your dick up the arse of not one, not two, but three fine English ladies, right?"

"I suppose."

"Yeah. You're a filthy slutty bastard, and I love it. Chuck me that lube back, will you?"

He objected, "It's not the same if guys call a woman a slut, is it?"

"Can be. It's not like you're shouting out a white van window, going 'Oi, you slaaag!' I could be persuaded to be a slut..."

"I don't recall you needing much persuading at all!" He rubbed his face over her wonderful butt cheeks. "Ready? To be slutty?"

"For you, any time, darling."

He was starting to regret his move to Canada. Still, Montreal had women, right? Some might even have sexy French accents. In the meantime, Lisa was wriggling her booty at him, wanting it. Seize the day...

It was so good. He pressed her buttocks apart and started pushing his head into her sticky hole. Was it slightly stretched from yesterday? He didn't care, just anticipated it feeling as good as it had then. Her dark curly hair fell to each side. He kissed her back. Beautiful smooth skin. Even her shoulders were somehow sexy.

He had to look at her.

"Turn over?" he pleaded, his cock slapping her leg as he withdrew.

"Seriously?"

"We can stay under the covers. Please?"

She shook her head slowly, the way women did when humoring you, and rolled over. Then pulled a pillow down to her groin, to ensure Bradley wouldn't be rubbing against anything he didn't want.

"Hey, put that under your ass! Okay, use another one..." Much as he didn't want her to feel the need, he wasn't going to press the point.

"Everyone's got their foibles," she said defensively.

"Sure. Me, too. Oh, you look so good like that! Your tits falling back! Okay, now..."

Again, he forced his cock-tip into her slightly-looser but still snug ass. He gripped her folded legs and began to work on pushing himself deeper inside her hot sticky hole.

"Oh! Mm! Oh!" She caught her breath. "Don't you dare pull out this time!"

He was tempted to mess with her. But no. No. No way! He managed to slide in a little further.

Judging by her howl, that was a good spot. Could he call it a G-spot? He didn't like thinking about prostates, no matter that Rachel had persuaded him that his own might not be 100% off limits.

What the hell. Scientists had decided the G-spot was any of a number of possible points where nerve endings congregated, possibly part of the clitoris which had multiple branches extending all over. Fuck it: he'd call it her G-spot and enjoy fucking both it and her.

He managed to force himself to full depth, into this elegant woman he'd bent in half. His gut rubbed against the crisp cotton of the hotel's well-starched pillowcases, but his chest lay against hers, his ribs pressing on her breast, his mouth able to kiss her neck. For her part, she seemed to be gripping his shaft, clenching that tunnel of hers -- he recalled how intimate it had looked round his finger yesterday, and groaned.

She groaned near his ear. "Yeah! More! More!"

He was a slave to a demanding woman, the moment he got his cock inside her. He valiantly pushed further, his cock's root pressed to her ass.

"God, fuck me! Please? Hard?"

He leaned back to let his cock slide almost completely out of her, then slammed it back in. Then some rebounding thrusts. He'd have to think of something other than the fantastic feelings, if he was going to last. Times tables didn't work. What were the classes of receptor tyrosine kinases, again? EGF receptors was Class One; was Class Two the fibroblast receptors...?

"Hard as you can?"

Screw class two. He forced his arms underneath Lisa's back, held her close, and did his best to hammer his cock into her confining grasp, forever.

Forever wasn't long enough; he collapsed on top of her. The pillow on her lap was in the way. He tugged it out from between them and tossed it aside.

Sure, there might be something besides her pubic bone pressing against him, but it was all her, he was exhausted, and could care less.

She kissed his forehead. "You're really great, you know that?"

He made some noise to prove he'd heard.

"Really. You sure you need to go back home?" She wasn't serious, respecting his career, but he had to think a moment.

"Yeah. I've spent four years working to get this far. I know I can make it work. The science life. Making the connections with people, getting the results."

"That paper in Cell sounded impressive."

He was impressed, that she'd remembered.

"Thanks. It's a good start." He wriggled against her, loving the feel of smooth feminine skin against him. And that weird bit, which he was starting to become accustomed to.

"Are you OK?" She gestured at her body part they weren't mentioning.

"Don't worry. I'm getting used to it being there."

"You're so kind, you know?"

"Hardly. Pure self-interest: gorgeous girl I get to fuck. Even that bit, we established, there's your clit. Gotta love that. Just because it's... on a stick..."

"A clit-stick?" She couldn't help laughing.

"Don't get your clit-stick mixed up with a Pritt Stick..."

Lisa nearly choked, before managing to gasp, "There's an advertising campaign we'll never see!"

"Yep, once your stick's inverted, don't accidentally use glue instead of lube..."

"I don't know about your kinks, mate, but I don't keep gloopy glue by the bed!"

It was the phrase 'gloopy glue' which had him silenced by giggles. Lisa didn't comprehend, until they established that here, Elmer's Glue really was routinely called by yet another ridiculous Brit phrase!

"What do you mean, silly Brit phrases?"

"I don't know! 'Ooh, let's have a nice cuppa?' 'Bloody' this and that? 'Squirty cream'!"

"What do you call squirty cream if not squirty cream?"

"Aerosol cream. Squirty cream sounds like... Well, like what I just did."

"You squirted your cream up my 'aerosol'?" Her retort had them both cackling. That, and her 'clit-stick.'

Lungs aching, he pulled himself to her side so they could enjoy a long, laughing kiss. "Goodnight."

A second night, with a third one-night stand? The wild arithmetic amused Bradley, as he drifted off. He'd tell Lisa, in the morning.

They both cursed the 7am alarm. Lisa had to drive back to work, Bradley merely be sentient for the last morning's sessions. He knew full well most attendees would be incredibly hung over, if they turned up at all.

He enticed Lisa into the shower. Somehow, a woman the same height as him seemed right, equal. Five-ten wasn't particularly tall for a woman, after all. The steam and driving spray revived them both, encouraging them to wash each other very attentively indeed. Bradley even managed to use a washcloth to wash gently around Lisa's clit. It would have to be clean and healthy for future surgery, after all.

He let Lisa use the towelling robe; he towelled off and wandered naked in the bedroom in search of clean clothes. Then there was the rat-a-tat at the door, which meant Emily.

"One moment!" He ran to the door, confirmed it was she, and removed the door hasp.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Emily commented, looking up and down his body. "Oh! Morning. Lisa, wasn't it?"

Lisa nodded. "Hi."

"Right, I need fresh gear. Are you guys done in the bathroom? I'll see you downstairs at breakfast. Don't poke Richie. He's a wee bit delicate this morning."

Bradley smirked. It would be tempting. "Did he fuck you over the balcony last night, for all to see?"

Emily sniffed. "A lady does not kiss and tell."

"Sounds like a yes to me," Lisa commented, at the same time as Bradley retorted, "You're hardly a lady when it comes to fucking, are you?"