Super Sammy Jo

Maybe one day . . .

Maybe one day I'd catch Mare alone. And, with her being Hev's one true soul mate, being caught like that could only lead to one logical conclusion, no?

Let's forget my daydreams for the time being and get back to the plot.

'How do I fasten you?' I asked Hev, like some mentally challenged bimbo.

'Work it out for yourself. You were in the Girl Guides, weren't you?'

'No. I got kicked out of the Brownies for bad behaviour.'

That took my usually implacable lover aback. 'Exactly how naughty were you at the age of ten?'

'I was a Sixer and it was a case of mistaken identity. Apart from that I'm admitting nothing.'

'Come on, tell all.'

'I can't. Not even over hot coals. Let's just say I was there but now I'm not.'

'You did knot-tying though?'

'Naturally I did. I even taught the younger girls.'

'Then stop dithering and tie me up with slip-knots before I do something I'll later regret.'

Hmmm . . . Well, if that's what she really wanted . . .

Slip-knotting Hev was surprisingly easy, not least because she was purring in compliance.

'Should I do you ankles too?' I wondered, gauging the distance down her supersized bed, convinced the scarves wouldn't be nearly long enough, wondering about fastening two or three together.

'This'll do,' she replied, 'now shag me before I explode.'

Here's where I got domineering. Absolutely unasked I went back to that third drawer of treasures and selected a black scarf, using it to blindfold my unsuspecting captive, smirking as I saw the overhead lights reflecting in the shiny fabric, right in line with the way they reflected in her jet-black hair.

Leaving the lights on while fucking with Hev is, co-incidentally, a must. She insisted that very first time and I have gladly played along ever since, because seeing everything only adds to the experience.

Yes; seeing only adds to an experience which is incredible, overwhelming and every other adjective in the book.

Yes, yes, yes! More, more, more!

Not that Hev was seeing right then. And wasn't she enjoying herself. I knew the signs well and they all were whistling and waving.

'Shag me, shag me, shag me,' she urged, her body twisting and turning, her unbound heels anchoring in the mattress, raising her shaven mons towards me, tempting me like I know not what.

*****

The impulse to shag her and shag her . . . or, in my terminology, to fuck her blue . . . was massive. By some (probably) divine intervention I resisted. Displaying superhuman qualities that would have made

Wonder Woman cringe in shame, I paid a second, far shorter visit to her breasts . . . and then I licked every last square centimetre of her luscious body.

I saved her shaven pussy for last. Call me devious . . . or call me incredibly patient . . . but that's what I did. Anyone else would have plunged in like Tom Daley (not that Tom Daley was likely to plunge into that type of pool, bless him) but I somehow restrained myself.

Okay, so having the best-built, most sexual woman in the universe twisting and turning wildly beneath me, begging for me never to stop . . .

Well, go figure.

Here's an admission. The last clear thought to go through my head was: "What's into Hev right now?"

Think about it: the girl who loved bright lights and visual sex, suddenly, arbitrarily deprived of both her favourite pastimes, wriggling and writhing as she prepared to be taken in ways beyond her say.

Was it some sort of secret, sadomasochistic trait of hers?

Not that I brooded for long. Whatever her motivation, Hev urgently wanted to be fucked and I urgently wanted to fuck her.

Okay, not much of a decision in such a situation, was there?

In I went, face first, then, after savouring her tangs and aromas . . . with Hev begging and pleading in the background, one minute extolling my efforts, the next demanding more and more . . . I shifted.

Turning on her bound body, relishing her every last shiver of delight, I lowered my pussy onto her face slowly and carefully. Usually she'd attack my thin blonde landing strip as an opening move but not just then. Oh no, just then she went straight for my opening and trust me, I objected not one whit.

Choices were limited, you see. Normally Hev alternated between fingers and tongue, slit and clit. Only too happy with her delicate, tongue-alone, attentions I relished every last second.

Indeed I simultaneously went straight for Hev's opening, savouring the sixty-nine-like angle, savouring the feel of her tongue on and . . . almost rudely . . . very quickly inside me.

Eating her that way was beyond yummy. Eating her that way was ab-fab. And being eaten by her was no hardship either.

Oh my, didn't we work well together!

I had the benefit of eyesight. She was hampered by that blindfold but was still inch-perfect.

There again, Hev claimed she had got an extra A-level in "Cunnilingus" at her fancy, exclusive private all-girls school. That night, by no means for the first time, she proved her assertions were true.

And didn't I relish weighing her body of evidence.

Come to that, didn't I relish weighing her body, full stop.

Please don't take me for a piker, by the way. I was still the girl on top; still doing most of the doing. But it simply wasn't possible not to adore Hev's intimate attentions.

A-level my ass; she had a degree if not a doctorate, maybe even a PhD.

Being on the receiving end of such skills was not a problem. Au contraire, being on the receiving end only brought out the best in me . . . leastways it made me strive to match her. And, judging by the flow of her sweet juice into my hungry mouth, my best wasn't too bad at all.

Excuse me for repeating myself, but didn't we work well together.

*****

Don't ask how long later but I revisited Hev's chest of drawers. Still blindfolded and in the dark, she asked where I'd gone, what I was doing and was it time for a touch of vino. Attracted as I was by the thought of chilled pinot, I didn't deign to reply.

No, I was more enraptured with Ann Summers' . . . sorry, with Hev's . . . collection of playthings.

My God, if she spent thirty grand a month on vindaloo and alcohol she must spend even more on the latest dildos and vibrators.

'Where are you?' she cried from her bound, helpless position there on the bed. 'Where's my wine and where in hell are your fingers?'

I grinned at that. I'd kept my fingers busy all over Hev's body without ever penetrating, quite obviously to her dissatisfaction. Much as I wanted to make repairs I did not. The object of my lust was still there on her mattress, body flexed like a top Olympic gymnast, her hairless mons beckoning me eagerly as always.

Scrap that: it wasn't beckoning, whistling or waving, it was pleading with me.

And I for one wasn't about to reject such an urgent summons.

Picking out one of the longer, thinner dildos I strapped up.

'I'm going to give you the ride of your life,' I said, flapping inside but outwardly calm.

'You always do,' Hev replied, surprising me with her evident sincerity, 'but how?'

Positioning myself on her, over her, I ran the strap-on between her beyond believable tits.

'Ye gods,' she gasped, 'do that again.'

I had every intention of doing it again. In fact I did it again several hundred times, Hev praising every last stroke.

Then I switched attention to her marvellous six-pack . . . although not with the toy. No, I kissed there a zillion times or more, admiring the shape and feel of her all the while, wishing my own body had only a fraction of her perfect dimensions.

Then I fucked her.

Okay, okay, it wasn't as brutal as that. Not in my opinion, at least. I took her steadily and as gently as any lover had ever taken a partner. In fact, thinking back to that "teambuilding" threesome, I took her even more gently than her (undeniably virile) boyfriend had.

And, me being off guys or not, he had been kind, considerate and focused on her orgasms rather than his own.

Somebody please call the Guinness Book of Records!

Anyway, being female I did the job just as well . . . even better . . . and I pleased myself as I went.

Speaking as a girl, I love to satisfy a partner, even a dickhead with a cock (back in the day, thanks be the Lord!). Satisfying a girl is miles better, though. Satisfying a girl is beyond ace.

I put it down to "knowing what she's feeling". Way I see it girls are infinitely more orgasmic than guys. Yes, that's just the way it is. But being more orgasmic . . .

Well, (allegedly) seven minutes up to a short spurt compared to hours and hours, days and days . . .

I know which end of the balance I'd rather be on, and it doesn't involve cocks.

Not genuine, flesh and blood cocks, anyway.

*****

Some considerable time later I discarded the strap-on and gave Hev oodles more fingers and tongue. Then I climbed aboard for a little trib, only to be stopped by her whinging about being thirsty.

Come to think about it, so was I.

'Okay, okay already,' I said, removing my person from hers. 'Remain right here. I'll be back.'

As if she was going anywhere, bound and blindfolded.

Downstairs in her marvel of a kitchen I opened her wine fridge (that's correct: she has a rarely used fridge for foodstuff and a very frequently used one for booze). Right then her booze supply consisted mostly of bottles of white but, interestingly, there was a handful of Shiraz bottles in there too.

Not that I was surprised. Hev has a rebellious streak in her. Tell her to drink red at room temperature and of course she's going to drink it chilled.

Not that I was about to argue. At that hour chilled red seemed like a good idea.

Speaking about the hour . . .

I glanced up at Hev's wall clock and almost passed out. Somehow it had become four in the morning; I'd been fucking her for the best part of seven hours without a pause for breath.

No wonder I was ready for a drink!

Then my thoughts took a wicked twist. I was noticeably tiring; it would be nice to have help. Not that I was likely to find anyone to easily volunteer, not at this ungodly time of day.

Grinning to myself, I wondered if our threesome guy would be interested in lending a hand (or maybe some other part of his anatomy). Sadly aware I didn't have his number, knowing I only wanted him as a "workmate" I went back upstairs and emptied one bottle equally into two outsized wine glasses.

Could I, a part of my brain wondered randomly, recalling how well we'd worked on Hev together.

Dare I . . .

'Unfasten me,' said Hev, demanding, not pleading.

Being thoughtful and considerate I obliged. Hev instantly groaned and complained about her pins and needles. Then I removed her blindfold and she complained about being dazzled.

Shoving a glass of chilly Shiraz into her hand shut her up . . . Surprise, surprise!

Leastways it changed the subject.

'Weekending with you is always going to be fun,' she finally assured me.

I sniffed at that. Our new, very recent arrangement was to give me full access, Friday evening through to Sunday lunch, if not later. After that we were free to screw anyone else we fancied.

Until the next Friday, that was.

'I've got reservations,' I said after swigging almost half the contents of my glass. 'I think you'll let me down.'

'I promised,' Hev retorted, 'and I never break my promises.'

'So what happens next time Mare lands on your doorstep?'

'We'll co-ordinate it so it's never at a weekend.'

'Huh! She turned up unannounced three Fridays ago, and I had to go whistle.'

'She happened to be in the area. It was an impulsive sort of a thing. And that was before our accord, wasn't it?'

'So what happens if she turns up today?'

'She won't.'

'But she might be in the area,' I said tentatively, 'and we've hit Saturday morning already. She could show up at any second.'

Hev had her own swig of red, eying me closely. 'If she ever does,' she said slowly, 'then she'll have to join in with you and me. No way will I kick you out of bed. No way will I make you go whistle. Mare can like it or lump it.'

Rush of blood or what! I hadn't really been tentative, I'd been downright crafty.

'Is that for sure?' I double-checked.

'You bet it is. Would you play along if it ever comes to that?'

'With a song in my heart,' I said sincerely, the Hallelujah Chorus playing loudly inside my head.

Hev responded by retrieving her mobile and punching out a text. She showed it me before sending to her soul mate.

"Hi Mare, fancy a 3? SJ does and so do I. If UR up 4 it be in the Sub next Fri by 8 at latest. If UR not there UR a big wimp."

'She'll say yes,' Hev added as she pressed send. 'She always does when there's a challenge involved . . . As I do myself, I must admit. Now then, what's next on your agenda?'

Stunned by the speed of it all, already relishing the thought of Mare joining us, I finished my vino.

'I wanted to trib,' I said, somewhat uncertainly.

'Let's set off with a double-ender,' the black-maned beauty replied. 'You can decide which you want to use, but I strongly recommend the long green one.'

'Do you want tying up again first?'

'No, I'm in control of myself now. I can be submissive without being bound.'

As if!

Sighing but smiling, I yet again made my way to her set of drawers.

'Ah here,' Hev said, thrusting her mobile my way so I could read Mare's instantaneous text response.

"Can't say no, can I? F**k the expense, BR will get me there long B4 8. Looking 4ward 2 it already."

'Me too,' my treacherous mouth replied.

'That makes three of us,' Hev grinned. 'Bring it on.'