The Corduroy Sofa

Some days, Lily got frustrated. Lily got frustrated from her constant battle with the world, which saw her repeatedly put in her box. It was the small things, when, for example, a well-meaning friend would ask her about her love life, and whether she was on the way to getting married, or having children. The constant expectations. The thing was, she liked to fuck girls.

Lily’s so-called ‘queer desire’, or otherwise her need for bodies of women was always there, and it helped her to cope. It was because the desire came from a place within her, within every molecule of her being, where identity just did not matter.

Sometimes, when she was alone, perhaps when she was doing something mundane like sitting on the train to work, it would just jump into her and she could fuck it by herself; or sometimes, it would jump into her, when she was in a room full of other people.

Lily reclined on a soft sofa, in Zara’s flat, surrounded by Zara’s flatmates. Her hand rested palm-down on the material of that sofa, which was made of a soft, worn, thick and wide corduroy. The gaps between each line or mound of cord were wide enough for her to fit her finger inside. It was like a miniature lavender field – like those bushy purple things you can see in the South of France in the summer. It was such a soft and pleasing feeling. She was intensely conscious of it, even though conversation was buzzing around her.

She could gently squeeze her fingers together, feeling the pressure of the softness of the battered and sat-upon thick cord on the sensitive skin between her fingers. As she gently squeezed, she felt that each mound was like a clitoris and labia – she had three such organs between the fingers of her right hand. As the thought occurred to her, she involuntarily gently pushed her palm down, as if against an opening – as if the sofa had an opening that desired the pressure of her palm. She inhaled quickly and deeply.

Zara was talking to Netta, and the conversation was animated, passionate and political. Demmi was sitting quietly by herself, taking an occasional drag on a cigarette, seemingly detached from the world. At least, she seemed this way, until Netta put her arms around Demmi suddenly and kissed her. They kissed each other, long lingering, with smiling lips, stopping only to laugh. Netta was completely full of joy, as Demmi came alive suddenly. Netta grabbed at Demmi’s breast, squeezing it playfully, kind of roughly.

At this point, Lily was working hard at maintaining complete eye contact with Zara – this was because not only did she enjoy looking in Zara’s eyes, and seeing a million tiny hands in the blacks of her pupils urgently grab for her, but also because she was trying very hard to not stare at Zara’s breasts, but also at Netta and Demmi.

There is was again – this opposite force, reinforcing the ancient lesson of being human – that she must not show her desire – especially to more than one person, especially to a room full of women, and especially as a woman, and especially as someone whose desire is already properly categorised as the kind where she must lay on her back, and think of England. “Lily” she shouted to herself silently, “get a grip, remember your shame.”

“You can fucking look, you know! No one’s gonna die!”, shouted Netta, who was smiling provocatively at Lily, while Demmi lay face-down across her lap, Netta caressing and grabbing handfuls of Demmi’s arse.

Lily smiled shyly, “I dunno what you mean… I was having a sensible conversation with Zara…” Lily broke into a giggle, feeling her face grow hot. Zara stood up and came and sat next to Lily, and put her hand on her thigh, in such a determined yet gentle way.

Zara’s touch was for its own sake – like the touch of that corduroy sofa. Zara’s touch just played along her thigh and felt gentle through Lily’s jeans – it was hypnotic, and Lily just stared, stupefied, at Zara’s playing hand. Demmi and Netta’s audacious display faded into the background, as Lily looked squarely at Zara’s breasts. “You like them? You wanna touch?” Zara said, quite loudly and oblivious to their audience in Netta and Demi, who looked on, relaxed, amused and kind of hopeful.

Lily really did want to touch, so she did, without answering – she couldn’t speak – she knew whatever she said would sound daft now, because it was all so obvious. Lily slowly extended her hand, as a flat palm, the skin stretched to maximise its sensitivity.

The small dip in the centre of her palm now ached for the touch of a soft t-shirt-covered hardened nipple. She moved her hand closer, the gentlest of sensitive touches took hold of her, and the moment of contact with Zara’s breast sent an ache to Lily’s clitoris, which she felt swelling in her knickers. She stroked Zara’s breast shyly, and squeezed it, all the while Zara was following her hand with her eyes. Zara licked her lips, in that way that she did, even in normal conversation, and moved to kiss Lily.

The kiss was slippery, soft, passionate, but not possessive like a man’s kiss. It invited her to play, not perform. It was a hard and strong kiss though, not some girly male fantasy of a kiss, but a real one, loaded with the possibility of proper full on fucking, without a need to think beyond it. Lily and Zara stopped kissing for a moment and looked at each other and laughed.

Zara took hold of Lily, and brought her to lay down on that corduroy sofa, with her head at the end nearest to where Netta and Demmi were. Demmi was glorious. She had a nose piercing, she was plump and her skin was a shade of rich yellowy brown, she wore glasses that perched on her nose, and she had a kind face which naturally smiled, but ever so gently. Zara wanted to see her naked.

Netta had the most mischievous elfin face she had ever seen and her blonde hair was long and light like strands of straight candy floss. Demmi took a drag on Netta’s cigarette and fell back in the sofa in a dramatic fashion, and started to rub the corduroy ridges, in the same way that Lily had done just those few minutes before Zara had kissed her. Netta kept rubbing the ridges, over and over, feeling the soft worn fuzzy ridges against her palms – initially she did it in an absent-minded way, then increasingly determined, quicker, firmer, keener, more consciously.

A small bemused smile crept across her lips, the corner of her mouth raised in kind of a surprised smirk, she shook her head almost imperceptibly and looked at Lily. “It feels like a field of clitorises, don’t you think, a thousand of them, just laid out for us, they are all like little possibilities, aren’t they? Little invitations, perhaps? Does it sound silly?”

“I was thinking the same.” Lily said. “It’s not silly at all – the only problem is, that I wish I had a thousand years, so I could try to angle each sensitive part of my body against them, do you know what I mean? I want to make the most of them, I want each tiny contour to meet each tiny contour of me – all those hidden orgasmic spaces – the space between my fingers, the dip between my shoulder and chest, my arsehole, the little space beneath my nose. And I want enough time, so I can smell each one, so I can lick each one. It makes me sad, that I can’t, I mean.”

Netta laughed. “Yes! I know, I know. But, you know what, its not sad. Its just that you’re not thinking about it the right way, y’know. Lils, you need to relax a bit. You can relax a bit. They never leave us, all these tiny little fuck-buds and slippery slut flaps, these billion fuck toys, these little friends of ours – they are with us all the time. Think about it. You want this infinite amount of time because you think the field is going to leave, that at some point, your time will be up.

But you only think that because that’s what men have been telling you! You think that because your ovaries die, that it all stops!”. Lily looked to the side, toward the back of the corduroy sofa as she thought about this. “Yes, OK, but surely there’s something in that. My eggs are precious, and only one sperm from one man can fertilise it. That’s why I must desire men, and I do, Netta, I do desire them. But I get the feeling that this conversation we are having would make no sense to them.”

Netta got up and then crouched on the floor beside Lily. “Lily, this is for sure. I agree. All we can do is embrace this exquisite field of fucking – it is timeless and spaceless – it does not care who you are, what you do, how big or small, how rich or poor, where you came from. Here, you walk across time, you sing with your clitoris, talk with your tits and fuck with your mouth, lick with your ears, you dance with your breath, or you just lay there and let it wash over you. So Lily, pull down your jeans and take off your knickers, for fuck’s sake and only for fuck’s sake!!”

To help Lily, Netta did it first. As she did, she displayed to Lily an ample butt, round hips and a full nest of pubic hair. Her inner labia protruded so sexily, looking velvet, dark and inviting the very tip of a tongue to run across it, but in a way that it would tickle wetly, barely touching.

Her clitoris was not quite visible, hiding beneath her outer labia, but you could be sure that it would be easily found using the tip of a nose. Netta twirled, so Lily could take her in. Immediately Demmi got up and did the same thing. Demmi’s cunt looked delicious too, but in a different way. It was amazing with women, they all seemed glorious when they undressed, whereas with men it was never quite the same.

Demmi had a caesarean scar, which drew Lily’s gaze to it, and immediately in to the light dusting of pubic hair that she had. Demmi’s inner flaps and clitty bud were concealed deep within her outer folds, that seemed to angle in. Lily wanted to part her legs and rub her own big swollen clit against it. Lily always thought her clitoris was too big, and her folds were kind of ordinary.

The only thing she thought was extraordinary was her cunt’s capacity to get so wet and swollen – not a bad thing to be extraordinary at. It was surely her turn, so she did the same thing.

The act of pulling down her jeans and her knickers and exposing herself to these two women made her ridiculously aroused. She involuntarily put her hand over her pussy, not to cover it, but to put some pressure against it, to give herself some relief. The three women, naked from the waist down, exposing their pussies to each other, stood in a triangle facing each other, all looking at each other’s cunts.

Zara came back into the room; she had been away finding some important things that she thought the other women would appreciate in this exciting moment. Things that she thought all the women would enjoy. Lily looked towards the door and she could hardly see Zara’s face since in her arms was a stack of pillows. They were all different pale colours and thicknesses, textures and sponginess – some were big and fluffy, some were thinner.

Lily had always been fascinated by pillows. Her love affair with them began when she was a child. Lily liked the feeling of them against her skin, especially after the cotton had softened to the point that the case had become unbearably tactile from dried sweat, and fragrant from her own smell. Lily enjoyed the feeling of pillows against her skin, and against her clitoris, even then. It was ticklish and sensual.

“Fucking hell!” Demmi screamed. “Pillows! That’s some weird shit Zara, what on earth… “ Demmi was shocked but she was smiling, intrigued, and Zara threw the squishy stack down onto the corduroy sofa and they scattered everywhere, with one falling on the floor at Lily’s feet.

Lily, in her half-naked state, picked it up and brought it instinctively to her face, testing the softness of the fabric of the pillow case against her cheek. It was very soft and cool, and it smelled faintly of home and snuggling, of a winter evening wrapped in a duvet, comforted yet the faint trace of arousal was in the air with the imminent possibility of masturbation or the visit of a lover to her cocoon.

Lily squeezed the pillow, unaware that Zara was also taking off her jeans and knickers. In another instinctive movement, Lily brought the pillow down to her naked pussy, so she could feel that glorious touch of cool soft fabric against her clitoris. Netta did the same thing, “it feels good, right, Lily? Try it Demmi!” Demmi was unsure. Demmi looked over at Netta and Lily, who were busy grinding their clits against their pillows, their bottoms pushing out as they did so.

Demmi looked over at Zara, who was trying to find the perfect slot among the corduroy folds to slot her clit into. She was grinding herself against the soft inviting fabric of the sofa, where the patch she had found was increasingly getting wetter and wetter. Demmi was getting hot, despite herself, and she walked over to Zara. “Zara, My clit is swollen and my pussy is wet, and I’m desperate for something, but I don’t know what.”

Demmi, I want you to watch me fuck Lily, then I want you to do the same to Netta, so we are fucking in front of each other” Zara commanded. Demmi sat obediently on the corduroy sofa and did as she was told. Zara called to Netta and Lily to come over and they did so, feeling all hot and swollen in their pussy areas, throbbing clitties and wet cunts and all. The cool air felt good and they felt exposed and naughty as they trotted over, their bottoms wiggling, toward Zara.

“Lily, lay on the sofa a show me what’s between your legs. Spread yourself for me, Lily.” Lily lay on her back, with her pussy exposed, her legs in the air. Zara carefully and skilfully took hold of Lily’s ankles while she looked down and stared right at Lily’s open cunt.

Zara moved one of her legs over the top of Lily’s, and lowered her own swollen clit and slit down towards’ Lily’s. She just hovered there for a moment, then gently, ever so gently, lowered herself – first so their pubic hair touched and there was the finest, most delicate, gentle and tantalising tickly sensation. When she could stand it no more, Zara lowered herself further so the women’s pussies were touching, but only just.

Lily let out a desperate little cry of pleasure “oh my pussy, it feels so good when I feel yours against it, look how sticky it is Zara, rub it for me, please rub it for me”. There was a little string of cunt juice as Zara raised her bottom and looked down at herself. Lily cried out again, “fuck me Zara, fuck me with your dirty slippery pussy!”.

Zara lowered her pussy again, this time much more firmly, and started fucking and grinding, slipping around and sliding. Demmi was looking on, as Zara instructed. Demmi crawled over and brought her lips close to Lily’s ear and she whispered, “what a glorious thing, this corduroy sofa, don’t you love it…? Are you going to get one, Lily?”