Jessica and Her Girlfriend

"You, look... "

I look at my girlfriend, waiting for her to finish her sentence. I sip my espresso slowly. The cup tings and scratches the saucer as I place it back down. My eyes study her eyes as they dart from my gaze to the floor. They move slowly and I swing my foot and she smiles and looks back at me. "I, look? "

"You look, beautiful. "

"Thank you. I sense there's more? "

She blushes and gets nervous, her hands move from her bare knee, that is crossed over her other leg, her skirt travels up her thigh, one hand pins her hair behind her ear and the other is placed on the table by the handle of her coffee cup. She nonchalantly scratches at a mark on the table. "I think you are so sexy. But you know you typically aren't my type. "

"That, hurts." I smile at her with a frown, because I know. My alluring character, and my confident personality both intrigued her. We've been mostly inseparable since we met, and she now lives in my house, with me. I know, I am nothing like her butch exes. I take pride in my femininity. I've always looked the way I do, and act.

"Honestly, I don't want it to hurt. I love you." She smiles sweetly as she takes my hand stroking it tenderly, and I see the sparkle in her eye. "Do you think... I'd like you... to switch. Just now and again? " She stumbles nervously through her sentence.

Friends say I'm changing. I think I am as I travel down this gay path. I describe myself as a lesbian. I have been for the last few years, but I'm becoming more... I don't know what or how to describe it.

One friend says I have a masculine energy. My daughters tell me I carry myself differently, and my attitudes have changed. I have tried to label myself but none of them reflect how I feel inside, as inside I just feel like me.

I have become a happier me. I don't stress about my sexuality as I now embrace the fact I love women, or rather I am so besotted with my new one, that I no longer care so much about what people think. My relationship feels real, I feel partnered and for once, I feel like an equal. She describes herself as queer, but when you look at her, you see a brunette lady, who's confident and sassy, and looks almost as femme as me. When in fact, she's the top between the sheets, a lady who literally rocks my world.

"Switch?" I look at her raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow, its long and thin, and I can get it to speak and show my feelings just as effectively as I can verbally.

"Your style is wonderful, it suits you. I don't want you to change it. Just switch it up, only now and again. You know... Just for me?"

I look at her stunned, as she grips my hand now offering reassurance. Her other hand also takes hold and I watch her hands play with my left as my right draws into my lap and I straighten my back. I'm feeling a little uncomfortable, I process the information, and suddenly concern hits me. I don't satisfy her, and she doesn't fancy me. I park the feeling and try to ignore it.

I look around the boutique coffee shop. People, a different array of customers, chatting and drinking from cups of coffee. The cups and mugs are all just as diverse as the people drinking from them. There's an older grey-haired couple sitting back in their cast iron chairs talking, what seems to be an intellectual conversation about films on one side of us and on the other two teen girls hunched over the glass table giggling over a video they're watching on a phone. I briefly smile at their happiness, and the delight the video has given them.

I look back at my girlfriend who is staring at me.

"Switch?"

"Yes. Look, as I say. I love you, who you are, how you look and dress. It's important you know I love you. But I think it'd be kind of fun, to lose the make-up, your fancy nails and the dresses. Not all the time, just now and again. That watch you wear, the heavy men's watch, and your heavy necklace, they're both hot on you. I think though, trousers, shirt and boots. You could tie your hair back?"

I look at her aghast.

"Look, I love you the way you are, but I think switching will suit you. You don't have to, I just thought it may be fun."

I look at her and ponder. She smiles and winks at me. Her hands grip mine, and I take it back to lift my cup and sip. "Ok, we'll see."

"It'll suit you." She smiles and sips her drink.

"Is there anything you want to do in town, or shall we drive home?" We only drove here for the drive, the town doesn't hold any interest, we just have a fetish that we wanted to practise.

"Drive home. There's a service I want to stop at, you'll like them. " She smiles at me, and I get excited.

We've been driving for 45 minutes, listening to Ah-Ha, Tears for Fears and Duran Duran, we've sung our hearts out to We Didn't Start The Fire and after some giggling she points out the services.

"One mile, babe."

"Oh, I know these, they're disgusting. Scummy in fact. Are you sure?"

"I'm desperate, but can hang on until we get home. "

"No, I'm desperate too."

We both chuckle, my hand drifts up her thigh as her skirt is hitched up as high as I can get it. Sometimes passengers in coaches, or vans glance, see what we do and double take, occasionally I might have my head in her lap kissing her thighs, or I try to open her legs to rub one out for her as she drives. Feeling the heat and dampness in her knickers. We only play if its safe and the traffic is moving slowly, but sometimes she's doing fifty in the slow lane as I try to jill her off. She moans and I do my best, but to my frustration, I've not made her cum on a car journey yet, not whilst she's driving anyway.

She pulls the car off the motorway and starts slowing on the slip road as we round a sharp bend and follow the lane to parking and services.

"It looks busy." She slows and searches for a space. It looks shitty. The costa coffee operates out of a beaten cabin, and the services look as though they haven't been upgraded since they were built in the seventies. The gantry, glass and rusting metal spans the motorway as I hope we don't have to cross it.

She reverses, or rather her car automatically parks itself in its space as she watches in the mirrors. "Coming?" She smiles and the car comes to a stop and she checks her reflection in the mirror and opens her door. She looks at me and offers me a quick kiss. "Well?"

I unclick my seatbelt and open the door to get out. The two doors both thud quietly shut as she goes to the boot and swaps her small handbag for a bigger black leather shoulder bag. She closes the boot and walks to the front of the car and holds her hand out for me. I take it nervously as we walk to the glass doors.

"There are a lot of people." I'm nervous and draw her closer to me as I cling onto her hand for comfort.

She laughs. "You're so funny. "

"Why?" My heels scrape a little as we walk through milling people, the smell of McDonalds fills my nostrils.

"You! All the time I feel protected, and looked after by you. You have an arrogance, its attractive, a 'don't look at my girl' look to you. Then, when something scary happens you become this little girl, a damsel in distress and you come to me for comfort. As soon as we step out of your comfort zone, our roles reverse. I find it endearing."

"I'm shy, you know that."

"Yeah." She laughs suddenly as if in disbelief. "You see a pretty girl, or you want to rut, you're not shy then."

"I have urges."

"Your urges aren't normal. I've heard men think with their dicks, you're one of the few women I know who thinks with her cunt. "

I smile, I don't usually like that word, but I love hearing it on the occasions she uses it, especially in relation to me.

"Shit, the queue for the women's, the disabled rooms are in use too." She stops and looks around. "Come on." She pulls my hand.

"No!"

"Yes, imagine how smelly and filthy they are." She half turns to me as she talks with a smirk.

"No, please." I plead desperately with her, but she ignores me and pulls me along.

We get looks as we walk into the men's, we pass the sinks, hand dryers and stinking urinals and walk to the cubicles. Men stand staring at us disbelieving as she pushes past them.

"We're waiting. This is the wrong toilets." A tall blonde man in a grey track suit shouts and stares at us.

"Sorry, I'm her carer, she's special needs and the women's is full."

I stare at her as she explains. I feel embarrassed. But a bolt slides across a lock and a door opens as a man steps out, my girlfriend kicks the door back and pulls me in, slamming it behind us. Laughter erupts outside, I'm glad for our small area of privacy and we stand quietly. I search the top of the cubicle hoping no one stares in, and then look at the underneath for phones or cameras. The toilet stops flushing. The cubicle next door is quiet but for someone urinating, and in the other a father talking to his child.

I start to relax, the floor has bits of tissue discarded on it, there are yellow splash marks on the seat and puddles on the floor too. Its grim, but I'm sure there are a lot worse than this. She smiles at me, puts a finger on her lips, signalling for us to be quiet for a moment or two before turning and hanging her bag on the coat hook. I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her. I suck her bottom lip before slipping my tongue into her mouth. But we panic and stop, holding ourselves at full alert as someone tries our door. Various toilets flush, bolts slide and doors bounce on their hinges against the panels.

"Let's start and get out of here." She kisses me again and turns to her bag. She hitches her dress up her bare legs, and pulls her panties down and steps into thicker briefs. Her Rodeo briefs. They're boyish with a rainbow band around the elastic top. She stands and hands me her lacy pants and I examine them, ball them up and sniff them. They smell of her, they have a fresh filthiness to them. I reach around her and slip them into her bag as she pulls her Rodeos back down to give her more space to slip the girthy dildo through the hole. I slide my hand down her soft tummy and feel the excretion between her legs, she pauses to kiss me again, and then slides the pants back up. She checks the fastening to ensure her cock is secure.

She looks strange wearing it. A lifelong queer girl, who has only just taken to using toys. She prefers using her hands, God her hands, they're so sexy. She has the prettiest hands I have ever seen. I've taken to playing with her fingers and sucking them, I think my fascination with them is because of how skilled they are. Then, there is her mouth, her oral skills are sublime, and we both think the other is the best at eating out.

I watch as she slides a condom down the thick white cock. Her right hand grabs me by the back if the head and she forces me down, the cock quickly slides into my gullet and she holds me there. I feel like chocking, unable to breathe and thick spit quickly fills my mouth before she releases me briefly and forcing it back down my throat. My eyes water as I begin to choke again, but she pulls me back up and the cock flops out of my mouth with my stringy saliva. "Quiet!" She whispers, and wipes the drool around my face. "Filthy whore." She whispers and we both chuckle quietly and stand still listening, but the only noises are hand dryers, taps and toilets flushing.

"Show me your arsehole." She whispers as she pushes me into the wall and my foot slides in a puddle of piss, causing me to lose balance momentarily. I feel a horrid wetness between my toes, but I don't have time to complain, it serves me right for wearing open toed heeled sandals, when we'd planned this fuck.

My short plaid skirt is flipped up, the hem tucked into the waistband. She pulls my knickers to the side. "Show me your arsehole." She orders quietly again in a fierce whisper.

I feel horrid as my shoulder leans into the wall. I feel the water from the toilet bowl splash my leg as the automatic flush is triggered by our movements. I reach back and spread my buttocks for her.

"You're dirty, you've done this before."

I don't reply. I feel the coldness of lube be spread into my arse, and her hand clutches my waist. I sigh and hold my breath as the head of the cock presses at me. I adjust myself as the toilet flushes again and pull my arse open further, I bite my tongue as her cock presses and pulls like a plunger in the entrance of my dirt box. She persuades my hole to open before withdrawing, then plunging and withdrawing until I breathe out, and accept the impalement that's coming to me.

My hands release my arse and I lean on my left and bite my right hand, the flush sets off again, and she runs her hands over me before holding my waist firmly.

I close my eyes. The cubicles are quiet of voices, but natural bodily functions can be heard between flushes, hand dryers and door locks.

My toes and shoes feel wet from having to get purchase on the slippery floor from my buggering. We don't talk, but her breathing is heavy, and I pant, trying to hide my extreme pleasure from those who maybe in the neighbouring toilets. I feel the cock move in and out of me at a rough pace, my hole is stretching around the girthy schlong, it clings tightly as its extended outward on the withdrawal. Her penetration is deep and filling, the slime of the lube makes a soft slimy mashing sound as she fucks me in my arse. We use more lube now than we used to, to protect me from fissures and injuries that have resulted in embarrassing visits to the doctors. My back passage ends up slimy, wet and greasy, and the utter filth of our actions, taking place in such a public area, makes the sex seem more extreme. Its more radical still being anally fucked in a disgusting public toilet. Our new kink, discovered after getting randy on a road trip a couple of weeks ago is turning into an addictive kink. The risk of being caught having sex turns me on, the unglamorous location in which I am being fucked adds to my pleasure with the woman I now let take me at a whim makes me cum.

Her touches make me shimmer and her words, so positive, very stimulating and provocative. Her hands flow across my skin so softly stimulating causing me to quiver, tingle and excite.

She rides me hard so that I forget about where I am as I enter my own blurred thoughts, the moment sends blood rushing to my brain which melts and loses any focus or thought, my ears ring and I close my eyes, biting harder into my fingers.

Her grip tightens on me as my legs shake, and I feel like collapsing, and I do what I can to stay on my feet. I reach between my legs and squeeze my dribbling twat, my knee balancing against the horrid cold toilet bowl.

My bowels move and bruise with her insatiable pummelling of my well-practised and abused arse. My favourite fuck hole stretches out of shape with her wrong kind of carnal enthusiasm. My short skirt, the back still folded into the waistband, the front hangs flapping back and forth. My knickers stretch across my arse cheek and I begin to lose the plot.

Her hands now take my hair, she forces me back into her, her hand runs around my neck, gently squeezing before clasping against my mouth. "Shut up slut. You're being too noisy. I don't want to be caught fucking you in this dirty toilet." She releases me, a thud echoes as my head is pressed into the germy wall and she grips me harder around my waist. "I need you to cum, and do it quietly. "

I bite my hand and close my eyes, to me its just the two us, ignoring the busy-ness of the toilets, she rearranges us, and piles into me with more vigour, I let myself come and lean into the wall as she finishes me off slowing to a calmer tempo. She leans into me and pulls back, before her cock slimes out of my battered gunky arse.

She pulls toilet roll from the dispenser and wads it in her hand and wipes my arse for me as I try to regain my composure. She folds the paper and pings the condom off her dong and throws it into the toilet. She pulls her Rodeos down, unclipping the cock she pulls it out and drops it into her bag and straightens out her skirt. "We'd better go, you, OK?" She doesn't really look at me as she busies herself looking pretty.

I wipe the grotty toilet seat, and straighten my panties before pulling them down to my knees. My cheeks begin to burn, "Sorry! " I look at the floor and pass wind as I piss like a camel into the toilet. She laughs and collects her bag pulling it onto her shoulder, I wipe myself with paper and dry my toes. "You're forgetting something? " I look at her and hold my hand out.

"Oh yeah." She laughs and reaches into her bag. "Here, there's a big tip there too." She places a five pound note into my hand. "You're cheap, but good. I'd give you a five out of five."

I smile, pulling up my knickers I place the note into the waistband. "Let's go." The toilet flushes again, splashing the back of my legs.

We unbolt the door and walk to the sinks to wash and dry our hands. We ignore the stares and the glancing eyes before taking each other's hands and walking quickly to her car.

Sitting in the passenger seat I check my expensive shoes hoping they aren't ruined. She shuts her bag in the boot and gets into the drivers seat. She presses the start button as she looks at me and we burst into laughter.

"You just paid for sex, you've fucked a whore." I giggle, turned on by the fact she thought I was only worth a fiver.

"My first prossie. Stunning though."

We laugh at each other for a while and talk about what the men must've thought about us as we continue our journey home. We agree to continue our hunt for the vilest toilet to have me fucked in.

The next day, Monday, I'm sitting uncomfortably at the dining room table, flicking through news articles on my phone. I lift my head to smile as she walks in with a bowl and a coffee. She looks fresh, though a little tired. The post weekend look and Monday morning pre-work reluctance that she's persevering through. The skirt suit enforces her smart and sophisticated look. She walks behind me, kissing my head and placing her things on the table next to me. She carefully pulls a chair out to sit. "How's you this morning?"

I place my phone down and hold her hand. "Fine. My arse feels funny, a good kind of funny. Sleep well?"

"Like a log, did I snore?"

I laugh quietly at her, "No. I was out for the count. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. The warm shower made me sleepy."

She takes her hand back and picks up her coffee. "You were asleep even before I got to bed. "

"That's not hard. Do you know how long you take getting ready for bed?"

"I've got my routine. "

"I know your routine. I know not to wait now. " I blow my bottom lip out and let it be known I'm disappointed. She takes a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for bed and it's a source of jokes between us. I have to make sure I have bedtime sex, before she starts her routine, or I stay up later for her to finish her face packs, the exfoliating, extreme flossing and moisturising.

"What did you think of that toilet?" She lifts a spoon of granola to her mouth to hide all but a hint of shame.

"I'm sure there's worse."

She chews, and swallows. "Definitely, do you still want to find one?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

"Yes, I'm just making sure." She chews more of her granola and I sip my coffee, we both feel a little ashamed of ourselves now.

"Getting paid to be fucked by you." I smile.

"I didn't have a pound coin." She laughs.

"Am I that cheap?"

"In there you are, everywhere else you're priceless."

"Priceless, eh?"

"To me, definitely. I doubt others would think so, beauty is in the eye of the beholder." She grins and drinks.

"Hey, mean... I love you... I don't think we should use a men's toilet though."

"Oh. Chicken, scared?"

"No. Intimidated maybe. I suppose, what if we got caught someone could have complained to security or the Police."