The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

'I don't do anal,' said Joe. 'And your language is quite appalling. I had you down as such a nice girl.'

'Well in that case you can fuck my tits.'

'Angie!'

'I don't really do love-making,' she said after a lengthy pause. 'Well, I do from time to time, obviously. I mostly I fuck with people I consider friends, though. Friends fuck, don't they? They don't want love to come into the equation. Love can ruin a good friendship.'

'What about Ruby?'

'What about her?'

'I don't know if you fuck or make love, but she's hardly your friend, is she?'

'Okay, so she's the exception that proves the rule.'

'Does that mean you do make love with her?'

'No, we definitely fuck. Or at least, I do. And fucking with her is better than fighting her, isn't it?'

Joe shrugged and said nothing.

'Don't get big-headed about it,' said Angie, 'but here's news. You're the first man who has ever made me cum.'

'What about Sarah-Jayne?' he asked, rounding on her . . . rounding on her with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

'She's not a man; she's a girl with a cock. And before you ask, every single one of my girlfriends has made me cum again and again.'

'Have they really; every one of them?'

'Yes, it's a girl thing.'

'And I'm your first man, am I?'

'No, I'm not vastly experienced with men, but you're not my first. And come to think of it, you being a man and able to make me cum is another reason there has to be a next time. Speaking of which, are you ready yet?'

Joe sighed theatrically. 'Oh go on then, if you insist . . .'

Chapter Three

Retracing their route from Joe's to the campus he dropped his bombshell. Well, maybe not the world's biggest bombshell, but he certainly took Angie by surprise when he invited her to come for Christmas dinner . . . at his mother's.

'She always makes too much,' he added, 'and there's always a full house. One more won't make a lot of difference.'

'Hang on a mo; are you planning on showing me off as your new girlfriend?'

'No I am not. I'll introduce you as my lesbian friend; my very dearest, totally, completely lesbian friend who has just helped me out at work, way, way beyond the call of duty. In fact . . .'

'That's enough!' Angie laughed. 'Thank you for the offer, but I'm already fixed up.'

'Do you mean at Gandhi's Revenge?'

'No, a better offer came along, and I accepted it.'

He looked at her askance. 'So it's with Molly and Fiona, is it?'

'It might be.'

'You want to watch yourself with them. They're post-grads. Older and more experienced.'

'Joe, what are you; thirty? You're five years older than them. And five years younger than Ronnie.'

'Who's Ronnie?'

'She's the lovely lady who first showed me how sex should be done. I doubt that Molly and Fiona will come up with anything new. If, that is, they come up with anything at all; I'm invited to have Christmas dinner, not an orgy.'

'Do you really believe that?'

'No,' said Angie, honestly, 'but there again, I live in hope.'

Joe trudged on a while before saying: 'No chance of seeing you later, then.'

'Oh,' Angie exclaimed, 'now I get it. Dinner with Mum was supposed to be followed by excessive use of condoms, was it?'

'No, not now you've turned me down.'

Joe was grinning again but clearly disappointed.

'Tomorrow night,' said Angie. 'We get our very busy Boxing Day out of the way then it's back to yours. Okay?'

Judging by Joe's expression it was okay indeed. Even, so, he raised a frown.

'What do you mean by our very busy Boxing Day?'

'You said it would be as hectic as it got over the break. So fucking away the stress afterwards is the way to go, no?'

'Well, if you put it like that . . .'

'I do, Joe. I do.'

'Okay,' he said, much more cheerily.

'I read this book once,' Angie went on, speaking without engaging her brain. 'When two lovers had to spend time apart they agreed to climax at midnight every night, thinking about each other as they did so, of course. We could do that tonight.'

'Like phone sex, you mean.'

'Yes, I suppose; but without the phones, seeing as I don't have one. Are you up for it?'

*****

Christmas Day in the Union was, as Joe had predicted in advance, patchy. Drinkers were supposed hold student union cards but nobody ever checked. As a result a lot of "passing trade" dropped by, in the most locals in-between pubs, attracted by the competitive prices.

It was unpredictable, though. There were flows and ebbs, probably governed by ley lines as much as any other, common sense factor.

Professor Parkinson flowed into the bar during a quieter spell. She was alone again, Angie noted, and she was hogging Joe's attention again as well. That made it four visits in a row, now. The woman had it bad and silly sod Joe was oblivious.

It was, beyond question, a situation that needed a catalyst.

Overcome by seasonal goodwill and a certain degree of mischievousness, Angie interrupted them.

'You'd never believe it,' she said to the professor, 'but Joe's shy.'

Up close the Parkinson woman was even more attractive than she was seen from behind the bar. She used a hint of lipstick and eye-shadow but was otherwise makeup-free . . . because the frigging bitch didn't need any help. There wasn't a single wrinkle or crease in her flawless skin. Her deep blue eyes studied Angie curiously.

Suddenly Angie could see the attraction. Wouldn't it be great staring down into those marvellous eyes as she pounded something big and hard into her?

Yes, harder and harder, again and again.

Joe, meanwhile, was glaring at her speechlessly.

'He doesn't get much time off,' Angie continued, 'but he's free tonight. It'll be the first night off he's had in ages. I'm sure he'd be glad if you can join him somewhere for a drink.'

'I'm having dinner with my parents,' Professor Parkinson said to Joe, completely blanking Angie. 'But that new wine bar in Castle Street is open tonight. I could see you there at, say, nine?'

Angie laughed inside. How easy was that! The bitch really was hot for him.

'He'll be there,' she replied on Joe's behalf, 'wearing a white carnation.'

'Great,' said the Parkinson woman, still concentrating solely on Joe. 'I'll be there. And I'll look forward to it all afternoon.'

Somehow Joe nodded and grinned.

Result, Angie's mind roared. Result!

Okay, she wouldn't get to fuck the bitch personally, but Joe could do it by proxy; fucking vicariously, if such a thing was possible. How good would that be?

And she would enjoy hearing all about it tomorrow . . . when she fucked Joe in her turn.

*****

Pulling pint after pint Angie did occasionally question her sanity. She hated Professor Bitch yet she'd set her up with the only guy she'd ever liked. And she genuinely wanted said guy to fuck her!

Just so she could compare notes!!

Was she crazy or what?

Or was she really trying to test the Parkinson woman's mettle? Was she secretly hoping that the bitch would fuck and run, never to darken the Union again?

Come to think about it, was she subconsciously giving Joe a way out? Was she hoping he would fall for the professor hook, line and sinker, and feel obliged to forgo his Boxing Day treat?

Maybe that was it. Maybe there was method in her madness after all.

Molly and Fiona arrived at half past one, as advertised. Molly was dressed as per always: plain sweat and denims. Fiona looked like a fairy plucked off of a Christmas tree, all in differing shades of pink.

'Hey Ange,' Molly said, strutting up to the bar.

'Hey Molls,' Angie replied, watching Fiona's ass as she secured places around their usual table. 'Are you having the same as always?'

'No, it's Christmas. Two medium glasses of Shiraz, please; preferably Hardys.'

'You like a little Australian,' said Angie, opening a bottle.

'This time last year we were backpacking down there.'

'What, for Christmas?'

'No, we were there for nearly a year; me, Fiona and lots of weird wildlife. I still knock my trainers of a morning . . . to dislodge scorpions, obviously.'

'Bloody Lancashire,' Angie grinned. 'Whenever will they get that influx of scorpions under control?'

She gave Molly two glasses, a bottle of red and a carrier-bag containing two bottles of champers; two bottles she'd diverted to halls to collect.

'My mum sent me them,' she said in explanation. 'It's non-vintage but goes down a treat.'

'We told you not to bring anything.'

'The red's on me,' Angie continued, overriding Molly. 'It's cheaper by the bottle. And cheaper still with my staff discount. Now go drink and be merry . . . And merry Christmas, by the way.'

'You're not a conformist,' Molly replied. 'Promising . . . very, very promising.'

*****

The Union Bar closed at three-thirty, with all the customers except Molly and Fiona leaving well before four. Joe, no doubt keen to be off to his mother's . . . and whatever lay in store for him afterwards . . . told Angie she didn't have to stay.

'I can finish the free bar snacks on my own,' he said, indicating the dishes he'd laid out, in a once in a year sort of a way.

'Ten tons of black pudding,' said Fiona, turning up her sexy nose. 'Let's get out of here.'

'Are you sure,' Angie asked.

'Go,' Joe said with an ushering forth gesture.'

'Midnight,' Angie said in reply. 'Don't let me down.'

Chapter Four

Angie's hosts' house was, by student standards, very nice. So too was the smell of roasting turkey.

'It's supposed to feed a family of ten,' said Molly, leading the way into a well-appointed kitchen. 'This is my domain,' she went on. 'Fiona is allowed in the fridge and nowhere else. She's also chomping at the bit. Why don't you two go upstairs?'

Angie raised an eyebrow. She'd expected something, but not this. Not so matter-of-fact and so soon, anyway.

'Is that all right by you?' she wondered.

'I have things to do down here,' said Molly, her eyes twinkling. 'I'll join you in an hour. Now hurry along and let chef get on with her chores.'

Abandoning her Docs on the doormat, Angie followed Fiona up a steep staircase, ogling her ass all of the way. Fiona had ditched her jacket and pumps. She was barefoot, in a tiny skirt and low-cut T. As rear-views went, hers was stupendous.

'I don't believe this is happening so easily,' Angie said as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

'It's my finder's fee,' Fiona replied. 'I get an hour free for luring you here.' She laughed. 'I'm not going to be the one doing all the doings, though; that's down to you. Come on girl, how do you want me?'

'Naked,' said Angie.

Smiling sweetly, Fiona removed her T-shirt. She was flat-chested and bra-less beneath. Angie noticed that her nipples were regular-sized . . . regular-sized and startlingly erect.

'You take off yours,' Fiona said saucily.

Angie was also bra-less. Her tits sprang out when she removed her top. Then, enjoying the feel of the girl's eyes on her, she removed her jeans without being asked.

'Get that skirt off,' she commanded.

Fiona obeyed.

'That'll do for now,' said Angie. 'Get on the bed.'

The bed was a large double. There was plenty of room on it for two girls clad only in panties. Rolling onto her back Fiona held open her arms. Angie fell into her embrace and kissed her, but not for long. Time was tight so she swiftly moved into foreplay mode.

And Fiona got the full treatment. Angie kissed every square inch of her face then nibbled her ears and nuzzled her neck. Running the tip of her tongue up her throat and under her chin was fun too.

She did that lots and lots.

Next up (or down) were her hair-free armpits. Fiona squealed when Angie licked them. It would have been easy to overlook her non-existent tits but those nips were impossible to ignore. As she teased at them, making them even harder, a thought occurred to her.

She must have the same titty sensations as everyone else. It'd be rude to pass on by.

So Angie paid at least as much attention to Fiona's minute buds as anyone had ever paid to her own big ones. In response Fiona moaned, groaned and almost certainly came.

Like maybe five times.

Tempus was fugiting. Angie ran her tongue over Fiona's curvy hips and down the fronts of her legs. In a hurry or not, she took occasion to suck Fiona's toes, all of them, individually, and then five at a time.

Then she licked her way up the insides of two trembling thighs, finally arriving at a pair of panties.

Well okay, she arrived at a very soggy pair of panties.

She couldn't help but chuckle. Fiona used all sorts of perfumes and deodorants but none of them had worked on her pussy. The overriding scent was that of a woman; a very, very aroused woman.

The panties were predictably pink and flimsy. Fiona's pussy was predictably swollen. Angie tugged at the fabric, encouraging it into the valley between two blood-engorged lips.

'You're as ripe as a peach,' she murmured, before slowly running the flat of her tongue over receptive, oh-so grateful labia, right and then left, right and then left.

This time there was no doubt that Fiona came.

Like maybe another five times . . . else maybe even ten.

The panties were getting in the way now. Angie yanked them off altogether and tossed them over her shoulder, caring not where they landed.

'Beautiful,' she said sincerely, drinking in the sight, 'you are really, truly beautiful.'

She'd been right to compare Fiona with a peach. She was juicy and ripe. Everything about her was as good as gold. Even her landing strip was short, thin and golden, as was her all-over tan.

Almost clean-shaven, soft and golden! Eating her was not going to be any great hardship.

At first Angie alternated between the mouth of Fiona's vagina and the area around her clit. Satisfied that she wasn't overly sensitive, she then used her tongue directly on the clit and penetrated her with two rigid fingers.

Fiona liked that; she liked it massively.

Two big orgasms later and Angie was ready to fuck. She was ready to cheat, too. Her self-control was better while tribbing than it was during any other sexual activity, mostly because she could direct most of the contact onto her partner. She was, in other words, well-practiced.

Right now it was a double cheat. She still had her knickers on while Fiona was open to any incitement that came her way.

And, over the next twenty minutes or so, a lot of very direct incitement came her way.

Talk about wailing and screaming!

Eventually the added protection of panties ceased working. Angie's orgasm was suddenly rushing at her like an express train. And, unless she was very much mistaken, it was bringing Fiona's umpteenth cum along with it.

Dimly conscious of a figure over by the window, she grunted commands.

'Fight it, Fifi, not yet, not yet!'

But she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all herself. They went off together like volcanoes, spewing out red hot fluids and screaming like banshees.

And it went on forever, their bodies clashing and clashing before gradually dying the death.

'Bravo,' said the figure, applauding. 'Now is it my turn?'

*****

Angie never did find out how long Molly had been watching them. It might have been a long time or it might have been a few seconds. And did it matter one jot anyway?

No, did it heck.

Molly grinned at her from her position by the window.

Angie grinned back. Molly was wearing a kitchen apron and nothing else; not one stitch. Still grinning, she unfastened the apron and let it fall away, exposing a harness with a decent-sized dildo.

It was a fetching purple and twitching in anticipation.

Seven inches, Angie reckoned.

'Fifi is my pet name for Fiona,' Molly intoned. 'I said you could fuck her but I didn't give you permission to call her by her pet name. I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you for that.'

Angie rolled onto her back. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you,' she replied.

Being fucked by Molly wasn't a problem. Okay, so she went in halfway to begin with, missing out all of the slow and gradual teasing of Angie's favourite internal nerves, but she got them right enough when she began to fuck for real. And she got her G, too. Angie had to admit she was good at the game.

And what a rhythm! She was neither fast nor slow. It was a rhythm all of her own, not plodding by any means, but well-paced and determined.

Her self-control lost as per usual, Angie came and came.

Then Molly's hands were exploring. Her finger was easing into Angie's ass.

'I guess this isn't Star Trek territory,' she said, laughing delightedly.

'Women have been there before,' Angie countered, 'but no man.'

'Can I go there?'

'As long as you have lube, go for it. No, go boldly!'

Molly got off the bed and Angie noticed Fiona for the first time in ages. Fifi must have been downstairs because she was armed with glasses of white wine.

'Here,' she said, thrusting one at Angie, 'wet your whistle.'

The wine was cool rather than chilled but Angie downed most of it in one.

Molly, meanwhile, was rolling a condom onto her artificial cock before lavishing it with KY Jelly.

Angie drained her glass before taking her turn to ask the question: 'How do you want me?'

'On your back and relaxed,' said Molly. 'I suspect you know the drill.'

Chapter Five

Being ass-fucked by Molly was a great experience. That not-quite-plodding rhythm worked supremely well. So too did that tireless, endless endurance. God only knew how many times Angie came before Molly decided she'd had her fill.

'Did the earth move for you?' Molly enquired, ever-so-slightly soppily.

'It certainly did,' said Angie, just as soppy. 'That was lovely in every respect.'

'It can get better,' Fiona put in.

Angie had to look around the bedroom to find her. Yet again she'd forgotten she was there, waiting in the wings, like the most beautiful actress, about to play the starring role.

'Do you do DP?' Fiona went on.

Angie shrugged. 'I don't even know what it is.'

'The D is for double,' said Molly, obligingly.

'P is for penetration,' Fiona added with a giggle. 'It's somewhat of a speciality of ours. Want to give it a go?'

It wasn't the time to wimp, even if Angie did uncharacteristically doubt herself. 'I'm an innocent,' she said. 'If I go for it, will you be gentle?'

'You'll never have had anything more loving in your life,' Molly assured her. 'Roll onto your side.'

That first time was bliss. Molly entered her back passage from behind, being tender and caring. Then Fiona's flat chest was up against Angie's tits as she eased into her pussy.

By then the rhythms had changed, and for the better. Abandoning her usual pace, Molly moved with a faster tempo. Fiona matched her, but in a definite counter-rhythm. When Molly pushed in, she pulled out. When Molly pulled out, she pushed in.

The feeling of fullness was exquisite. Angie could always be pleasured by one seven-incher in either of the obvious places. Having two at once wasn't just twice as good . . . it was infinitely, incalculably way up there beyond belief.

That orgasm control of hers hadn't improved . . . no, not at all. And it got even worse when Fiona and Molly switched places and rhythms. Suddenly they were going into her at the exact same time, Molly now in and out of her pussy, Fiona now in and out of her ass.

In together, out together they went, steadily doing it faster and faster.

Cue titanic climax.

And cue her two lovers to ditch synchronization. Deliberately, discordantly, both of them were going at her as fast and furious as they could, harmony no longer important, both wanting to fuck hardest and deepest . . .

Yes, it was one of the best afternoons of Angie's life.

*****

Christmas dinner finally came to pass around eight o'clock. At Fiona's insistence they dined wearing no more than panties and colourful paper hats out of crackers. They mostly washed their meals down with glasses of Angie's Moet and took their time over proceedings, talking intimately.