Short and Sweeter Still

Foreword

Hi guys, it's me, Chrissie here with more intimate confessions. For anyone who missed my earlier "Short and Sweet" yarns I'm telling the tale of May 2017, the time of the first Brexit snap election.

Well, the first of all the latest, way beyond-boring Brexit elections . . .

And that particular bore actually happened in early June. It just dragged out through May, when all the serious campaigning took place.

Anyhow, as the briefest of brief intros, I'd been distributing leaflets for my mate Dani's mum, who was standing as an independent candidate. And I'd been attacked be a gaggle of geese, ultimately saved by a "farmer's wife" who turned out to be one of my big bosses at work.

Not that I realized who she was until she'd fucked me seven ways to Heaven and back.

And me a girl-on-girl virgin, unwitting but in no way unwilling to go for a new challenge!

Yes, one hundred per cent straight and turned by one grasp of a rescuing, presumably farmer's wife's lovely, very encouraging, very strong, exceptionally enticing arms.

Make that exceptionally enticing everything about all of her . . .

That's right: suddenly, out of simply nowhere, I was no longer straight in any sense of the word.

Suddenly I was gloriously liberated.

One single smell of her . . . one single touch . . . and I was converted forever.

She was as convincing as that.

As well as being a sight for sore eyes, in view of the bastard weather, and all those effing geese . . .

So here we go, on with Thursday, the day after the night before.

Chapter One

Back then I was just shy of twenty-two, a recent graduate in English Lit and, up until less than twenty-four hours ago, totally straight (as I keep saying). I had honestly never had a single lesbian thought in my life before Wednesday night's dramatic events.

By lunchtime Thursday I couldn't think about anything else. My impulses were off the scale.

Like big time!

And Hev was transfixed in the forefront of my mind. She was supreme . . . superb . . . why had I ever bothered with blokes in the first place?

For the record, I hadn't previously been really promiscuous. Five guys over three years at uni: four of them regular repeat visitors, the other very much a one-off. That was modest behaviour, according to the feedback I got from my fellow female students.

Some of my fellow students got through minimally ten condoms a week, meaning at least ten of their own, accounting for the few blokes who were properly prepared enough to bring theirs, (meaning not many, but some).

Happy days!

Or maybe not!!

Don't get me wrong; I used to like having sex with guys. Those four regulars were regular indeed. And I never felt the need to say no when anyone wanted more. In fact I was usually the one begging for a bit of extra.

"Once more before you go," was my favourite plea.

As if they could always oblige!

Bloody men and their refractory periods!!

What idiot created refractory periods?

Having sex with Hev had been on a different level altogether.

Trust me; it truthfully was.

Here's another aside. I spent most of my lunch break on the net, via my mobile. I honestly didn't know what lesbians did together . . . apart from Hev's recent master class, of course. Go on, call me a touch insecure, but I wanted to be able to instigate rather merely replicate.

(And shouldn't that have been a "mistress class"?)

Also, I didn't want to be exposed as a freaking novice by the most beautiful girl on the planet.

That is sincere, by the way. There possibly is a more glamorous creature on earth but I've never seen her, be it in real life, on film or in glossy magazines. Naturally tanned all-over, a body shaped to make Venus herself jealous as could be . . .

Hev was beyond belief . . . Raquel, one million years BC or not, eat your heart out.

Yes, she was as stunning as that.

As for her utterly, totally insatiable sexuality . . .

Hev's refractory period could be measured in milliseconds . . . and on a minus scale at that. An instant before she came, she was ready for more.

And, admittedly as a girl who sometimes struggled with mutual orgasms, so suddenly was I.

By that I mean I was able to cum together with her, endlessly.

Alone I could orgasm for England, again and again and again. With guys it was hit and miss, hold your breath and hope. But, when I was with Heather Hunter . . .

Fuck my old boots (as we quaint Yorkshire gals would say), but Hev could make a rock climax just by giving it a passing smile.

Think of a Cumbrian landscape, a mountainside covered in scree. Hev could simply wave at it and ten tons of slate would come crashing down.

Yes, she was as fit as that (excuse yet another of our quaint Northern sayings; we are full of 'em!).

And what am I like!!

Let's get back to the plot.

Thursday, already set up for a repeat performance. And, I must admit, as excited as heck. I'd guessed Hev to be late twenties, maybe early thirties, but a bit of research had put her nearer forty.

How crazy was that!

The woman oozed sheer, utter sex. And her face was that of an angel . . . not to mention the supreme curves of her tits, hips and ass, all screaming out for intimate attention.

Trust me; I'd have given her intimate attention without one second's hesitation. Yes, even back pure and lesbian fantasy-free, I would still have noticed her.

No, I'd have more than just "noticed" her . . .

Twice as old as me, I thought as I plotted and schemed. She's as good as twice as old as me . . .

Then the rational part of my brain kicked in.

Twice as old and twice as beautiful, it insisted. Which part of "fucking obvious" are you missing?

Screw her again now! Right now!! She who hesitates is lost!!

And twice as old! As if! How fucking sweet is that!!

She'll know tricks you haven't ever dreamed about . . .

Okay, so she already has shown you plenty of tricks you haven't ever dreamed about . . .

But what else has she up her sleeve?

Lots and lots; the answer was self-evident; Hev was almost twice my age and hundreds of times more experienced. Learning from her wouldn't be a chore. No, learning from her would be a luxury.

Learning from her would be a gift from the gods.

Lucky, lucky me!

She wanted another go too. She'd made that obvious enough. How rude would it be to deny her?

How rude and how self-interested!

As if I could snub her!!

As if anyone could snub her!!

Well not me. I had a repeat date and no way was I going to be even one second late.

Never be later than ten minutes early I'd been told by a certain careers teacher, once upon a time.

Damn right.

A car park meeting at half five and I was there for twenty past.

There hot, panting and ready for anything at all.

Turned out that was just as well . . .

Chapter Two

Seemingly oblivious to fact we met up in the main WYB parking lot, with workers of all ranks passing us on every side, Hev kissed me.

Unable to resist, enchanted by the mouth-to-mouth contact, I kissed back, maybe keener than her.

Not that she showed any restraint, and not that I did either.

Less than twenty-four hours of same-sex, inexperienced as heck . . . but I kissed back like she was a new version of Rudolph Valentino; no, make that Marilyn Monroe . . . Marilyn is lots more pleasurable on the eye, no?

Well she is in my eyes, anyway. Rudolph can go toss so far as I'm concerned. I've no ill wishes for the Latin Lover, but I'd found my orientation . . . at last!

And yippee for that!

There and then, previously enamoured of having a hard cock slotting in and out of me, I changed for once and forever.

Not that I dismissed the thought of hard things slotting in and out of me. On the contrary, I thought of Hev's rather large, exceptionally hard strap-on slotting in and out of me . . .

Yes, again and again and again . . .

And of her lovely, luscious breasts rubbing on mine as she slowly, surely took me from one orgasm to another, then another . . . and yet another and another.

Previously sex had been short and sweet (to borrow a phrase), but never with Hev. Okay, so it was a night . . . perhaps ten hours . . . and no more, but sleep hadn't entered the equation.

Ten hours and maybe ten thousand orgasms . . . maybe even twenty thousand.

Major exaggeration aside, all of them were sweeter than sweet.

And we'd wound up energized! Fucking in the shower had been no more than an extension of fucking in her bed.

Not that we'd ever fucked "in" her bed. We'd fucked on it, but not ever in it.

Not yet.

Best part of ten hours without one wink of an eye.

Still up for more, as well.

Trust me; early next evening as it now was, I desperately wanted a repeat.

And, miracle of miracles, so did Hev!

'Get your replacement flyers?' she asked, breaking that so-delicious mouth-to-mouth contact.

'Yes,' I admitted, oblivious to dozens of nosy passers-by.

'Then we'll go recover your satchel from my dry room and you can finish your round while I make us a mild keema. Then you can have me anyhow you like.'

'You mean . . .'

'I mean I want you to take the lead and thrill me in as many ways as possible.'

Gulp!

Glad about my brief on-line research . . . for whatever good that would do . . . I replied as casually as I could.

'Sounds like fun,' I said.

'Sounds better than mere fun,' Hev countered. 'You are red hot in bed. I can hardly wait.'

'Ike and Mike, we think alike.'

She chuckled at that before enlarging. 'I'll settle for anywhere in my bedroom. And anywhere else in the house, come to that. Maybe even on the kitchen table. I would have you on my knees, eating your keema, if it wasn't your turn to go first.'

'My turn . . .' I rambled.

'Girls share like and like,' she responded. 'I went first last night. Tonight it's your turn to do whatever. And trust me; I'll take anything and everything.'

Silently thanking xHamster and Pornhub, I nodded.

Hard work, but someone had to do it.

And at least I'd gotten a few ideas.

Hopefully I had, anyway . . .

*****

Thank the lords Hev's geese were hidden in the reeds when we arrived at the end of her long winding driveway. Or maybe I was just lucky to be with her. Either way, she called out as we left her vehicle.

'Doc, Bashful and the rest of you, stand down.'

No movement was to be seen but I was still on edge. And Hev's sharp, almost military tone added to my unease.

'Do they really listen to you?' I wondered, somewhat pathetically.

'Of course they do,' Hev replied. 'You know who I am, don't you? You've heard what I was called.'

'What?'

'What I was called in the good old days at WYB?'

I wracked my brains and somehow came up with an answer. Ranging back way before my short time at the bank, Hev had been known as Snow White.

Like yeah, as if!

I gasped out the name, feeling like an idiot, and a particularly dumb idiot at that.

'I was never as virginal as Snow White,' the deity persisted, 'in fact at uni I was rather naughty. I got a reputation for shagging a whole rugby team in a bath, but that was grossly exaggerated. In reality I did maybe half of them, perhaps not even as many as that, although they did have an awful lot of subs!'

Then it sunk in.

'Seven geese,' I exclaimed. 'Doc, Bashful . . .'

'Sneezy, Sleepy, Grumpy, Dopey and Happy,' she gushed. 'Not that Grumpy and Bashful really live up to their names. I think I got them the wrong way around.'

'Bashful doesn't seem very bashful to me,' I agreed.

'She's very much the alpha female. Doc's more like everybody's favourite uncle. But I got them all in one go. I didn't really have time to properly absorb characteristics.'

'How long have you lived here?' I asked in all ignorance.

'I was born here,' Hev replied, startling me. 'A zillion ranks of ancestors and suddenly my dad had to sell the farm. It was live or let die. I was totally devastated. And as soon as I earned enough, I bought back what was left. '

'You earned enough to buy it back?'

'Yes. I did.'

'So it's yours again?'

'Too true it is.'

'Respect,' I said sincerely, banging her fist.

'It was easy really,' said Hev. 'My dad sold up for millions and I was sent off for a first class education, including an all-girls A-level in Cunnilingus. Then, with an impressive CV, I enrolled with WYB. Then I met Victoria, we joined forces and here we now are, running the show in tandem. And, thanks a bit to the global financial crisis, property development dried up just when it mattered.'

'So you had opportunity to buy back the farm on the cheap?'

'Well, yes and no. I bought back the heart of the farm. The land's mostly gone. You'll be trampling the new streets in a matter of moments. But the heart's mine again. It is right here under my feet, and I'll never let it go. Not ever.'

I kissed her at that, as passionately as I'd ever kissed anyone, even her.

It seemed like the right thing to do.

Chapter Three

The winding driveway was as troubling as it got so far as leaflet distribution was concerned. Beyond that I found a sprawling (if rather out of place) estate of houses and, as Dani had assured me, it was letterbox to letterbox. Before I knew it I was back re-approaching Hev's armed guard.

I was shit-scared of Bashful, in other words.

Bashful my ass! Sabre-toothed tigers were more reasonable than that not-so-little bitch.

So too were box jellyfish and great white sharks . . .

Bashful would have had them all in an instant. Don't ask me how but she simply would. Teeth and claws would have mattered less than her beak. Come up against her and you were Gone City.

End of.

It was as obvious as that.

Leastways that was how it seemed to me. Casting the queen bitch to the deepest depths of my brain I traversed that swirling, winding driveway. And thank Goodness, Hev was waiting for me on her quaint, fashionable stone doorstep.

'Doc,' she cried, 'Bashful. Get the message?'

Obviously they did. Sensing their proximity every step of the way, hairs up on the back of my neck, I kept on creeping.

And I was never once attacked.

Yippee, I had a chance to fuck Hev after all. Hopefully more than just once or twice.

Assuming she wanted it as much as I did.

Meaning wanting it like a million times; maybe even more . . .

*****

Perhaps needless to say, Hev's "mild keema" almost blew my socks off. It was vindaloo if not beyond. Yes, I'm talking West Yorkshire, the curry centre of the universe. Want it a little hotter? No problem at all. Always pleased to oblige . . . tindaloo or bindaloo, anybody?

Hev's very presence heated the atmosphere, come to that. Several chapattis and two red-hot curries, devoured along with at least a litre of pinot grigio and suddenly there I was, in her lovely living room, on the couch, naked apart from my panties, which were occupied by my hostess's busy left hand.

Omigod, but wasn't her hand busy!

And omigod, didn't I enjoy its busyness!

Unsure how I'd got into such a position, caring eff-all about exchanging curry breath and the likes, I urged her on and on.

'More, more, more,' I begged. 'More, more, more,' I pleaded.

As if Hev would let me down in a situation like that. My initial orgasm was a while in the waiting but it eventually arrived like an express train . . . meaning a proper, coal-powered one, all hot and gushing out clouds of steam. Hev must have noticed but did she hesitate or deviate?

Did she fuck hesitate or deviate. Instead she brought me off three more times in rapid succession.

Wham, bang, bang, thank you ma'am.

Big, bigger, bigger still and best! Hev has a wave theory numbering orgasms in sets of seven, each surpassing the last until the mighty seventh. Then it was start over time, number eight being relatively minor as she built up to a simply titanic number fourteen.

And so on from there.

Gulp!

Four steeply building cums sufficed for me, for now, at least.

Grateful or nay, I fastened my hands in her luxurious black hair and pulled her away.

'I'm supposed to be in charge tonight,' I said as sternly as I could.

Hev giggled like a naughty schoolgirl (and I just knew she had been very naughty as a schoolgirl, until she moved on to university, the odd communal rugby bath, and who knew what other forms of serious mischief she'd come up with into the bargain) before letting me retake control.

'So sorry, mistress,' she said. 'Please feel free to punish me as you feel fit.'

Punishing her wasn't on my agenda but fucking her very much was.

'In the bedroom,' I snapped, 'right now. No, wait a moment and strip for me first.'

Yes, somehow she'd got me as good as bare-assed without removing a single item herself.

Still, at least I got to watch the world's most arousing strip-tease show.

Fuck me but wasn't it good watching her take off her classy, expensive work clothes. Certain pubs and clubs in Bradford would have paid megabucks for her to do that on stage.

Yet she was doing it just for me.

And for free!

Yippee! Result!!

As for her lacy black bra . . . well, unnecessary as it was in view of her self-supportiveness, it was just as sexy as any lingerie I had ever seen. No doubt she wore it as part of her "uniform", visible beneath her white cotton shirt, sending out unmistakable signals in all directions.

Except now, removed and casually discarded, her signals were all aimed my way.

'I'm not going to punish you,' I said breathlessly, 'but I'm going to screw you until you can't walk.'

'Sounds like a plan,' she replied, all eager-beaver, 'let's get on with it without further delay.'

So we did.

*****

I started with her tits because it simply wasn't possible not to. I now know she hadn't ever had a boob-job but, at the time, it was hard not to wonder. Not that I wasted so many seconds in wondering. I had the classiest pair of breasts right there, at my mercy, eagerly awaiting my sincere attention.

And not awaiting attention for long. Trust me; I was in like Flynn . . . probably twice as hungrily, if not a lot more so.

Those nipples on her! Big and hard to start with, noticeably swelling as I sucked and licked.

I keep citing Hev as the best this and the best that and I offer no apologies. Three years later, past the dreaded big 4-0, and she still makes Jennifer Lopez and her younger wannabees look like limp dolls.

Doubtless she always will.

I say that with no ill intent at all. Three years ago I'd have admired J.Lo as very desirable and left it at that, without examining "desirable" in any depth, or even remotely considering her age.

Right then I had the beyond belief Heather Hunter wriggling and writhing beneath me and J.Lo did not matter one whit.

Okay, okay; I wasn't really going to fuck Hev to death, but I had an insane urge inside me that couldn't be ignored.

Omigod, I wanted her so much.

I wanted her again and again.

And that is more or less how it turned out.

Yippee once more.

All too soon, after feasting endlessly on those wondrous tits of hers, I noticed a strong pressure on my shoulders. Hev wanted me down below.

And so suddenly did I. My tongue tracing a silvery line along her luscious body, I eased my way to her pussy, leisurely paying her belly button a little attention along the way.

Goodness me but she tasted better than ever. And how wet was she! Half a gallon more and I'd have drowned on the spot.

Not that I'd have protested or done a runner. Not with Hev groaning, gasping and moaning out words of encouragement; never once swearing yet incredibly graphic for all that.

The benefits of a private education, doubtless entwined with that A-level in Cunnilingus!

At a guess she'd got an A star in that particular subject.

Judging by her reactions, so had I!