by Limey Lady
Davina Does Christmas
By LimeyLady
Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2017
Distributed by Smashwords
All characters and events in this publication,
other than those clearly in the public domain,
are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter Eighteen - A Night at Ellie’s
Chapter Nineteen - Playtime
Chapter Twenty - Another Mild Confrontation
Chapter Twenty-One - Christmas Kisses
Chapter Twenty-Two - Lorna
Chapter Twenty-Three - Meryl
Chapter Twenty-Four - More Meryl
Chapter Twenty-Five - A Late Night Call
Chapter Twenty-Six - A Sinful Saturday Afternoon
Author’s Note
Other Books by LimeyLady
Introduction
Yes, it’s me again, Davina, here to give you the dirt on my life to date.
That sounds good, doesn’t it? It sounds as if I’m much more interesting than your average IT nerd; as if I’ve got a dark side and secrets to shock the world.
And maybe I have.
Now there are other stories circulating about me. Some of them were written by yours truly, some by ex-lovers of mine. Anyone who missed them is welcome to catch up, but please don’t feel as if you’re obliged. I’m going do my best to make this account self-contained; with any luck it will be readable on its own. I’m also going to be more explicit than I’ve been before because I have reached the point where I started to really enjoy sex.
Not that I didn’t enjoy it from the off, of course. I certainly did. It’s just that it got even better as I found the spirit of adventure inside myself.
Right then; a few more words about me and I’ll begin. These days I’m twenty-six and the proud owner of a lesbian gold star. While I have been compared to Velma from Scooby Doo, I also get mistaken for a bloke more regularly than I would like. That has a lot to do with me having very short hair, an ironing board for a chest and being commonly known as “Dave”.
And my fashion sense probably doesn’t help. I’m only comfortable in Docs, jeans and sweatshirts. It’s a rare day when I wear anything else and I haven’t been seen in a dress since primary school.
I must be doing something right though. I’ve had girlfriends aplenty.
Speaking of which, let’s go back to the first weekend of November, 2008 . . .
Chapter Eighteen
Sara got quite touchy when she found out I was housesitting with Ellie on Saturday as well as Friday. I very reasonably pointed out that her parents weren’t back until Sunday and that it would seem odd if I didn’t go the full mile . . . just as I had when Sara’s parents were away.
She frowned and scrunched up her nose but in the end had to agree I had a point. I just gave her my best attempt at a Mona Lisa smile and left it at that.
Privately I was full of admiration for Ellie. I’d challenged her to get us one night together and how had she responded? By dramatically overachieving, that’s how. You bet I was up for two nights with her. I would have stayed a whole week if she’d managed to wangle it.
My mum wasn’t so much touchy as suspicious. She hardly knew Ellie and believed I was in love with Sara (which I was, but not unconditionally). I had to patiently explain that Ellie’d had more boyfriends than hot dinners and that I was effectively on guard duty.
‘Ellie’s mum doesn’t want the house full of strange men,’ I told her. ‘She trusts me to keep all of them at bay.’
‘As long as Sara’s okay with it,’ she said finally.
‘Sara’s just fine,’ I assured her. ‘She won’t miss me at all.’
That was, I reckoned on Friday evening, a more accurate assertion than I’d thought. The eighteenth that night was at Oakwood Hall, not so very far from Sara’s home or mine. Not that we accompanied each other. Oh no, not that night. I did suggest meeting up first but she pooh-poohed me.
‘You go with your date,’ she told me. ‘And I might just surprise you.’
She did as well. When I arrived with Ellie, Jacqui and Roberta, Sara was already there on the dance floor, brazenly strutting her stuff with the captain of the football team . . . no, with the very male captain of the football team.
She’d dressed for the occasion too. I watched her a while, wondering how she’d poured herself into that slinky silver affair and if bits of her were going to pop out. Her dancing was, you see, energetic to say the least. Not that I was wishing a wardrobe malfunction on her.
Not much.
‘Sara and Ray, eh,’ said Jacqui. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
I tried not to think about it for the rest of the party but did notice the two of them from time to time. And they were first back onto the dance floor when the music slowed. They even got there before Ellie and me.
Valiantly, knowing whispers must whizzing about here, there and everywhere, I let Ellie take the lead and banished Sara and Ray to the Siberian quarter of my brain.
There, I crowed as I slammed a thick iron door on them, enjoy the salt mines. I’m going to get laid.
Ellie was as thick-skinned as me. Ignoring countless curious glances, we danced closer than close, our groins pressing tight as we shared scalding-hot kisses.
‘Tonight,’ she whispered into my ear. ‘I can’t believe it’s going to happen.’
‘I’m all yours,’ I whispered back.
The party wasn’t due to end until midnight but by eleven we could wait no longer. Not bothering to say any goodbyes we left and walked the few hundred yards to Ellie’s house. At that stage of proceedings Fervent Dave was starting to take over from Logical Dave, partly because I didn’t want to do logic and was pushing it determinedly away.
You are in an open relationship, I reminded myself. And it works both ways. Sara has every right to go with Ray tonight. Good luck to her.
And with that I really did banish my number one girl for the duration.
‘I’m looking forward to this,’ I told Ellie as we neared her garden gate. ‘I’ve wanted to strip your clothes off and kiss you all over ever since we met up.’
She laughed. ‘It’s me calling the shots, remember?’
‘Okay then,’ I replied. ‘I can’t wait for you to strip me and kiss me all over.’
She squeezed my hand. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
*****
I’m going to skim through the first couple of hours at Ellie’s. Suffice to say we went straight up to her room and she did indeed kiss every last inch of my body. And then I moaned and groaned and sighed while she went down on me seemingly forever.
Mmmm! Very, very nice!!
And that was supposed to be her first time with a girl.
Flipping heck, I thought, if this is her without any practice; if she can only improve . . .
Finally taking a timeout, she told me she’d modelled herself on a couple of guys who’d dared to try oral.
‘One of them got close but no cigar,’ she said. ‘I just did it properly, the way they both should have.’
Lying entwined with her, deciding it would soon be time for me to take a more active role, I took in the décor. Ellie’s penchant for black and white carried over to her bedroom. Even the photos on the walls were monochrome: photos mainly of short-haired blondes, including a young (and exceptionally hot) Annie Lennox.
The room was stylish but had an edge to it. Grinning, I wondered if her mum had noticed the absence of male rock stars and guessed Ellie’s taste for girls hadn’t just appeared overnight.
My room should be more like this
, I lamented, recalling the PC screens and lack of any photos at all. I shouldn’t just be functional and conformist. I should put my stamp on it.
And Ellie’s bed was something else! I’d say it was a small double: nice and cosy for two people and way too big for one person.
‘Dave,’ she said out of nowhere, the hesitancy in her voice surprising me.
I turned my head and lost myself in her eyes.
Again.
‘What?’ I enquired.
Chapter Nineteen
If Ellie’s request took me aback the sight of her “toy” almost knocked me out. I could tell what it was, of course, even though I was no expert at the time . . . but it wasn’t at all what I expected.
‘Ellie,’ I gasped, ‘what is that?’
‘It’s my beaded glass dildo,’ she replied. ‘Ace, isn’t it?’
The thing in her hand was shaped like a man’s penis but didn’t look like any dick I’d seen in all those unsolicited pop-ups. It was jet-black, had a distinct curve on it and consisted of half a dozen “beads”: five of them spheres of a similar size, the sixth a lot larger. The overall shape aside, no effort had been spent to make it authentic.
And it was long. I later found out it measured nine inches and wasn’t exceptionally large. It seemed to be massive right then, however. I shuddered to think about going . . . well, going inside me.
‘It’s more like something from a torture chamber,’ I said. ‘Sorry Ellie, but no way.’
Her grin faltered and her eyes went all pleading. ‘You could use it on me,’ she suggested, reversing the proposition of only moments earlier.
I couldn’t imagine even touching it. It might not look like part of a man but it was definitely designed to act like part of a man, and a big man at that. I was worried I might struggle to accommodate it. And, as if that wasn’t enough, I had heard all the horror stories about tearing and bruising.
What was more, even if I did the using I was worried about hurting Ellie. I couldn’t contemplate hurting a fellow female. Never could, never will.
And I was still a virgin that way (I still am when it comes to actual men’s parts; ones made of flesh and blood). Up until then I had been penetrated by nothing bigger than fingers and tongues. I had, of course, heard of a woman’s elasticity but I had no genuine grasp of the concept. Rather naively, I thought Ellie’s natural tightness would make her as unaccommodating as me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeated woefully.
‘Watch me then,’ Ellie urged. ‘I’ll use it on myself. Show you how it’s done.’
I couldn’t come up with an argument so I perched on the corner of the bed and spectated. And as far as spectacles go, it was a good one. My initial revulsion soon gave way to interest, fascination and a deal of excitement.
Ellie’s running commentary helped. At first she gave me random details such as her toy could be used heated or chilled. And that it felt good when she slowly rotated it, its curve making the beads stimulate her “in parts other dildos can’t reach”.
She took her time in inserting it too. For long enough I supposed she was content to have just two of the beads easing in and out of her (and rotating a bit while they were at it). Then she pressed on to three, four and ultimately all five of the smaller ones, using the largest one as a handle.
‘I feel so wonderfully full,’ she assured me, her voice little more than a gasp. ‘Omigod, I’m cumming!’
She wasn’t stopping though. She kept going a while then astonished me by changing ends, pressing the largest ball into herself, not penetrating so deeply, obviously focusing on an area just two or three inches inside her pussy.
‘This is the best,’ she almost wailed. ‘Omigod, omigod . . .’
I was still vastly in awe of the dildo but knew when my input was needed. Moving up the bed like a stalking leopard I waited over her, letting the latest contractions subside before tugging her hand away, taking the toy with it. Then I buried my face in her.
Now I haven’t mentioned this before, but I have feelings for every woman I’ve had sex with. And I am determined that, even when I’m kissing, telling and naming names, I am not going to do comparisons. In my little world comparisons are a big no-no. How childish is it to claim that Lover A can French kiss even better than Lover B, but Lover C is superior at sixty-nine?
Very, very childish, that’s how!
That much said I have to observe that, fresh from the large end of her dildo, Ellie was wetter than any other girl I’ve ever known. That includes Ellie herself, by the way. She set records that night; personal and possibly global.
So did I in eating her. The more she yelled and cried out, the hungrier I got.
It really was ace. I must have enjoyed myself more sometime since, but don’t ask me when that was. My head’s too full of specific memories right now; memories of her and what I’d just witnessed.
Happy days or what?
*****
I woke at maybe nine Saturday morning. At some stage we’d gone under the zebra-striped duvet but by then it was halfway onto the floor. Ellie was still snoozing on her side, facing me, her legs and mine interlocked.
‘Are you awake?’ I asked in my softest whisper.
No reply.
I let my thoughts wander as I stared at her relaxed face. The sex had been great but I was very much aware that I’d chickened. So much for that spirit of adventure of mine! Ellie had raised the bar and I’d been found wanting.
And it had looked to be such fun. She hadn’t been in the least violent with herself; she’d been gentle and tender, coaxing the orgasms, not forcing them in any way.
I’m not sure how well it has come across up to this point but I am quite competitive. All that swotting I did was so I would be the best I could be, which was usually the best in town. When I went climbing I was always nagging to try harder ascents. When I went walking I was the one who wanted to tackle just one more hill . . .
Chickening wasn’t in my nature. And, although I was legally virgo intacta, I’d always struggled to find my hymen. To be brutally honest I don’t think I ever had one. Or maybe I did and lost it through all of my youthful exercise.
In other words, I gradually convinced myself I didn’t have anything to physically tear and that I had to be just as elastic as the next girl.
Steeling myself, I rubbed my snub of a nose against Ellie’s dainty straight one. She stirred but did not open her eyes so I did it again. That time she chuckled and regarded me with those startling peepers.
‘Is it that time already?’ she asked, stifling a (probably feigned) yawn.
‘It’s not time to get up,’ I replied. ‘It’s time for me to woman up.’
Chapter Twenty
Call me a spoilsport but I’m only going to give abbreviated details about my Saturday with Ellie. I don’t want to be repetitive, you see. I also want to move on to new adventures. So here goes.
For an hour or two Ellie made love to me with her toy. Sheathing it with condoms because “I didn’t put it in the wash last night” she soon overcame the last of my fears. Yes, all of that endless yelling and shrieking I did had no connection to pain at all.
Seriously, I could not have had a finer teacher. If she’d been gentle and tender with herself then she was gentler and tenderer with me. She didn’t have to do much coaxing of orgasms, though. I started almost immediately and came at regular (embarrassingly short!) intervals throughout.