Sophia's World Pt. 03

Attacker and defender thrust and parried as if their life depended on it. Almost as one person, they coiled and wound, as the aggressor made his inexorable progress into the throne room, where all her treasure was kept under lock and key. Smashing that lock as if it were made of balsa wood, the knight drove home his advantage, pillaging the maiden's box and snatching her valuables, including her most precious gem. Before he left her to return to his stronghold, he poured out upon her a libation of the most rare and precious nectar, which she was pleased to drink down to the very lees. When he thundered away on his steed, she was still lying there where he had left her spreadeagled on the floor, rejoicing that there were still such men ranging across the land in search of adventure and of love.

SEVEN

'Another member of your burgeoning fan club,' said Sophia, having listened to her husband's improbable tales. 'Perhaps you might like to introduce her to me one day, if you're not too busy.'

'I'm not sure she's into women,' replied Peter, somewhat disingenuously, as he had heard plenty of tales about her from little Myška, who had been speaking from first-hand experience.

'Why is everything always about sex with you?' Sophia responded, blind perhaps to her own deficiency in the same arena. 'Anyway, she'll be into me if I give her the green light, of that you may be certain.'

'Okay,' said her husband, 'I'll ask Myška to see if she's free one evening and perhaps we can have supper together.'

'You'd better check with me first, Peter. I have quite a lot on in the next few weeks.'

A date that suited everyone was arranged and it was around 8.30 one Saturday evening that the two girls pitched up, both casually dressed in T-shirt and jeans, even though the early summer evenings were, as so often in England, decidedly on the chilly side. Sophia, who was dressed a tad more formally, in a cream blouse with a black block collar and a Burgundy belted skirt, welcomed the Hungarian to her home with something of the air of the Lady of the Manor, even though she knew she had not only been there before (probably several times) but had also shared both her husband and her bed - leaving her mark on both.

'What a funny looking woman!' was Sophia's first reaction on meeting Kriszta. 'She makes Piri look positively human and rather normal.'

Besides the gap in the front teeth - a flaw, which hadn't done Lauren Hutton, for one, any harm in her career - she was wild in a gypsy kind of way, with coal black eyes and hair that looked as if it had been shorn rather than styled. She also had a complexion that was unique in being both pallid and dark at the same time, as if she had been applying skin whitening cream for years and it was beginning to take effect. Having said all that, she had a certain something about her, in a boyish kind of way. One thing was for sure: next to her, Myška looked the epitome of femininity.

As Sophia quickly discovered, she also had only a rudimentary grasp of English, which she delivered in a staccato fashion, which reminded Sophia of the staff at her family's local Chinese takeaway when she was a child. There was, in short, not a lot of polish to this woman, and Sophia began to doubt Peter's story: not that he had fucked her, but that the experience had been in any way enjoyable or - she found herself smiling when she used the word to herself - loving. As far as anything romantic transpiring tonight, Sophia had to be realistic: a green light was out of the question, however much the strange girl might want her. Even an amber shade was pretty much unthinkable. Sophia could more easily imagine herself being aroused by the lollipop woman who shepherded Ollie across the road to school in the morning than by this specimen.

To be frank, when they had finished their supper of chicken melts and guacamole, Sophia was all for calling it a night. She tried tipping Peter the wink, but as usual, when there was skirt around, he was basking in the attention and all the 'your husband is so sensitive' stuff. It was he who suggested that they watch a Canadian film called Beneath Her Mouth, which a work colleague had lent him on DVD. Peter's groupies were of course mad keen on the idea, an enthusiasm which his wife didn't share. Indeed, Sophia seriously considered going to bed and leaving them to watch their film and get up to whatever else they wanted to do. In the end, she thought she'd watch the first ten minutes at least and then make a decision.

What Sophia, who was occupied with her phone as Peter set things up and dimmed the lights, didn't realise, was that while this was happening Kriszta took the place on the sofa next to Sophia recently occupied by Peter, leaving Peter to squeeze next to Myška on the armchair, with their arms around each other's shoulders. The film turned out to be a drama about a beautiful woman who is engaged to be married who becomes conflicted about her sexuality when a butch builder arrives to carry out work on her apartment. After a bit of snogging and petting, it seems as if the woman has got the lesbian thing out of her system until one day the butch builder takes a bath with her, whips out her strap-on and converts her to the joys of queer love. This last bit happens in front of her bemused fiancé, who just happens to arrive back from work early that day to give his intended a surprise. In the end, after a bit of soul-searching, the beauty decides her future lies with women and dumps the man - who, it must be said, is both very sensitive and understanding (more so than the butch woman) - and very handsome.

'God, Peter, that man reminds me so much of you,' she said, as the movie moved towards its inevitable conclusion, turning round to look at him as she spoke.

It was a matter for debate whether he heard her, as he and the Czech nymph had their tongues down each other's throats and their hands in places where they were guaranteed to be protected from the evening chill. Feeling upset and irritable, Sophia was about to rise from the sofa and take herself upstairs when she felt a hand on her knee. She really wanted the weird woman to leave her be - to leave the house in fact - but she hesitated for a moment and that hesitation proved fatal.

'And that woman - she reminds me so much of you,' said Kriszta, moving her hand over Sophia's skirt up her leg to the narrow belt that acted more as adornment than anything else.

Leaving her hand there on Sophia's waist, she turned towards her and drew her into a kiss with her hand cupping her cheek. At first, Sophia made no response, as she attempted to deal with the conundrum she faced: why should this woman who she found so plain - so unattractive even - be turning her on so much? Was life mirroring art (if you could call the pap she had just been watching art)? For in the film the builder had been, in Sophia's view, singularly unattractive - operating well out of her league, if one was honest. But now, here was she - a beauty - on the verge (if she wasn't careful) of being seduced by someone who looked as if she had been assembled in a laboratory. So, still she gave nothing back to the Hungarian woman - until suddenly a picture of Piri flooded her mind and everything changed.

Shifting on the sofa, she faced her seductress and started to give her what she wanted, gently and slowly at first, sensing the wildness in the other person that would most certainly be unleashed at some point. Yes, at some point, Sophia thought, but not now. They kissed with meaning but with little overt passion for several minutes, each woman bringing one hand to the face of the other, while the other hand found a place to rest on their respective waists. Sophia didn't know why she did it - she was sure she didn't want to do it - but suddenly she had done it. The button of the girl's jeans was undone and the zipper was sliding down - all the way down. She didn't mean either to do what she did next, which was to slide her hand under the hem of the girl's panties and onto the girl's sex. Again, it was unplanned synchronicity which saw her force one finger into the girl's slick vulva even as she drove her tongue deep into her soft, lush mouth.

Kriszta was putty in the older woman's hands and revelled in the unaccustomed role of playing the dominated one. But this was no game, and she was playing no role. She felt like she had not felt for many years now, for, despite her relatively young age, she had needed to fend for herself - using every edge she could find - for longer than she could remember. She hadn't known tenderness like this with a woman since she was a teenager - and then it had been only once - and now she had found it with - of all people - this snobbish English woman.

Sophia too was surprised by the turn of events, and even more so by the change in her attitude towards Kriszta. Realising that something beyond pure animal passion was at work, she made to withdraw her finger from the girl's pussy, but was prevented from doing so by the other's hand.

'I like,' she said simply. 'I like you inside me.'

'Let's go upstairs,' said Sophia, casting a glance at the chair, where Peter and Myška were, as usual, lost in a world of their own.

Kriszta followed Sophia to her room. Ever the romantic, Peter had prepared candles and Sophia lit them while her lover took her clothes off and slipped into the bed.

'Pity,' Sophia thought. 'I wanted to see her strip for me.'

'I can always extend her the same courtesy,' she reasoned, moving into the girl's line of vision and waiting until she had her full attention, which didn't take long.

Unused as she was to this kind of thing, she drew on the examples she had witnessed, most notably in Thailand. She knew she should not rush, that she should tease, that she should leave her gallery wanting more until there was no more left to give. She sashayed and shimmied with her hands above her head before sweeping them down over her breasts and onto her thighs. She thrust her hips forward and then her breasts, until she could feel the pressure grow on the long line of buttons that fronted her schoolmarmy blouse. With a pout, she undid the buttons on her cuffs and made a face as if berating herself for her show of immodesty. She then changed tack by turning round and jutting her backside towards her admirer, who was at this point utterly transfixed by the performance. She held the pose for some time before jiggling her buttocks in front of eyes that hadn't blinked for what seemed like minutes.

Still with her back to the girl, she started to unbutton her blouse, reaching the midway point before turning back to face her. Kriszta could see the outline of the while lacy bra, her mind racing to visualise the beauty of the breasts that lay concealed beneath it. Leaning in towards her enrapt spectator, she challenged her to get involved - to unbutton her completely, to rip the blouse off her body. Clenching her fists and setting her teeth, Kriszta resisted the temptation to touch Sophia. Under the covers, she moved one hand to her core, which she knew could now only be satisfied by the tongue of the woman standing before her, and began, very discreetly, to touch herself. When Sophia had undone the last button before her skirt, rather than pulling up the rest of the cotton, she undid the little belt and, staring her prey full in the eyes, began to fumble with the button whose release would signify the crossing of the Rubicon - the point from beyond which there would be no return. Within a few seconds, the crossing had been made and the skirt was pooled around Sophia's ankles, revealing her skimpy panties, from which peeped stray wisps of blonde hair. Sophia made short work of the few remaining buttons of her blouse and, tossing it to the floor, stood before Kriszta in her underwear.

Rather than proceed any further, she motioned to the girl to move over and got into bed beside her. Kriszta, she had decided, could complete the job. First, though, they joined in a long, languid kiss, Sophia seeking out the gap in her lover's teeth and plugging it with her tongue. Soon enough, Hungarian hands found their way to the clasp of the older woman's bra and deftly unfastened it. Pushing back the duvet so she wouldn't miss out on the sight of the breasts being revealed, Kriszta removed the bra and took in the wondrous sight, exalting in the knowledge that she had these beauties all to herself. She noted how prominent the nipples already were and made her first vow of the evening: to make them harder and longer than they had ever been before.

Before she began to make good on her vow, she looked up at Sophia and smiled.

'She really does look like a gypsy,' thought Sophia, images of Carmen of operatic fame suffusing her mind.

This Carmen had no thoughts of sticking a rose between her teeth, though. Her only current interest lay in duplicate before her. Was it her imagination, or had the buds already become more swollen? Was this the effect of the chill night air or could it be the arousal that Sophia was experiencing in her presence? Kriszta put such speculations to one side as she focused all her attention on the breasts. She began with the nearest, dispensing with preliminaries and latching straight onto the nipple. A gasp escaped the lips of the Englishwoman, who was clearly taken aback by such a bold move. Encouraged, Kriszta worked it hard, meshing it between her lips and pummelling it with her tongue. Meanwhile, her hand moved to the other tit, which she massaged with increasing pressure, biding her time before she arrived at the crowning glory, at which point she moved her mouth across and lashed it with something approaching fury. Sensing Sophia's arousal building apace, she repeated the same manoeuvre that the older woman had made on her earlier in the evening, pushing down her panties and easing a finger into her tight opening.

'Oh, fuck, yes,' Sophia grunted. 'Fuck me, you gypsy!'

Not a woman who needed a second invitation, Kriszta slid down, got rid of the panties and drove her tongue into Sophia's aching shaft. Like rainfall from a cloudless sky, her juices ran all over Kriszta's chin and onto the bed. The Hungarian girl redoubled her efforts in order to bring some order to proceedings, but it was no good. The more she lapped up the juices, the more they flowed in torrents down the older woman's legs. It was clear she needed filling - stopping up - but what was Kriszta to use? Her hand would have to do. Making a fist, she wiggled it until it was wrapped by Sophia's tissue, then she gently pushed it home until it plopped inside her vagina. Sophia cried out in ecstasy and told the girl not to stop. Already her mind had turned to the chest of drawers where the monster dildo was kept.

With her hand deep inside Sophia, Kriszta shifted her body and offered her papaya-shaped, somewhat droopy tits to Sophia. Like a once picky eater who circumstances has reduced to someone who will happily eat anything, Sophia sucked hungrily at the bulbous flesh, drawing appreciative noises from the girl. Raking the skin with her tongue, it wasn't long before she happened upon her nipple - a very dark brown, elongated protuberance that hinted at eastern ancestry.

'Weren't the gypsies originally from India?' Sophia wondered.

The Hungarian clearly liked having her nipple attended to, as she pushed Sophia away momentarily in order to kiss her deeply, still not moving her hand from the other woman's centre. She then fed the Englishwoman her other tit. Sophia duly obliged, but, truth be told, she had her mind on other things, namely, the gypsy's tongue inside her yawning chasm and the feel of that giant cock pounding her cunt. So after a couple of minutes, she freed her mouth and asked Kriszta to lick her out. To say that the girl was pleased to oblige would be one of the understatements of the century.

Placing herself between Sophia's legs, she viewed the area that had so recently been vacated by her fist and prepared herself mentally for the next step. How beautiful she looked with her lips all puffy and her pink vagina so enticing when those lips were parted! To say nothing of the dampness, which made access to all parts of her inner being so much easier and so much more enticing. And the fragrance! It was as if she were disporting herself in an aromatic arbour!

Reining in her natural impulse to dive deeply into the abysm, Kriszta savoured each moment, starting with the labia, which she kissed and licked with an ardent precision that missed not a millimetre of their surface. When she turned her attention to the inner folds, she was struck once again by the exquisite combination of flavours and aromas. She could feast here for hours, she thought. But it seemed Sophia could read her thoughts, because there was urgency in the voice that entreated her to make her come, to make her come and then fill her with the giant cock.

What was a girl to do, thought Kriszta, torn between her desire to please herself and this woman's yearning for fulfilment. She worked out a compromise with herself, deciding to keep the blonde simmering for as long as she could before bringing her off with a shuddering orgasm. Then she would happily fuck her to kingdom come with the vast appendage which Piri had spoken of so often.

Moving a finger to Sophia's clitoris, she began working on that while her tongue delved ever deeper into her heavenly cunt. The Englishwoman's articulations told the Hungarian girl that she was making good progress. So did her beautifully manicured hands, which drove Kriszta's head deeper still into her aching womanhood. Sensing that Sophia was approaching the point of no return, Kriszta took a gamble, leaving her core in order to focus on her most sensitive part.

Replacing her finger with her tongue, she assailed Sophia's bulbous clitoris, which stood proud like a miniature penis. Thrashing it with all the might she could muster, she soon became aware of the first signs of impending orgasm, as Sophia's breathing grew strained, her stomach muscles tensed up and her legs straightened unnaturally they way the do when you are in the dentist's chair and sense the drill is approaching a nerve. In a sense, of course, this was exactly what was happening, as Kriszta's instrument bombarded Sophia's bundle of nerve endings. But if this was pain, it wasn't the sort of pain you wanted anaesthetised. This was the kind you wanted to last for ever.