The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by Limey Lady

  ‘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 becau
se 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 after, 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.

  Molly and Fiona had, they said, been together for five years. They never strayed but did like to sleep with a “third party” every now and then.

  ‘It’s always a female third party,’ Fiona said, ‘and always a game one. Please don’t get me wrong, but you were as obvious a candidate as we’ve ever had.’

  ‘You’ve the best ever reputation on Lesbians’ Corner,’ Molly added. ‘And yes, we do listen to gossip.’

  ‘I dunno if that should make me glad or sad,’ Angie confessed.

  ‘Trust me,’ said Fiona with her sauciest grin, ‘you ought to be glad.’

  ‘How often do you sleep with third parties?’ Angie wondered.

  ‘We only ever recruit one new one a year.’ Molly chuckled. ‘But then we sleep with her as often as we possibly can.’

  ‘I guess you’ll be seeing more of me, then.’

  ‘I guess we will.’

  ‘Tell us about your first lady,’ said Fiona, emptying the second of the champagne bottles, dividing the spoils equally.

  So Angie told them about Ronnie, withholding names to protect reputations.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Molly, swiftly crossing herself, ‘and forgive me my blasphemy. But you’ve been fucking a mature woman all this time!’

  ‘Twice a week when she wasn’t swanning off,’ Angie said proudly.

  ‘And she was your teacher.’ Molly stressed “and” as if it was weighted with lead.

  ‘Technically she hasn’t been my teacher for years. But at the time she reckoned it was something she shouldn’t have been doing. That made it even more exciting, of course.’

  ‘What about Joe?’ Fiona asked. ‘You seem awful close; have you fucked him?’

  ‘No,’ said Angie, ‘not quite.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Molly echoed. ‘Come on, Ange. Either you have or you haven’t.’

  ‘I don’t tell tales after the fact.’

  ‘Unlike your conquests on the Corner,’ Fiona sniggered. ‘Come on, Ange, we’re all girls together here. Confess . . . you know you want to.’

  ‘I can’t. And I don’t have conquests. I’m conquered, not conquering.’

  ‘My arse,’ said Fiona.

  ‘Okay then,’ said Molly, ‘tell us what this midnight thing is all about.’

  ‘What midnight thing?’

  ‘The one you reminded Joe about earlier . . . Unless he has several to be reminded about.’

  Angie tried to stall but the other two were relentless. A few more drinks and they knew everything: the close encounter; the Boxing Day promise of sex . . . and the midnight accord.

  She’d even let slip about her game of darts!

  ‘I think meet me by midnight’s cute,’ said Fiona. ‘I want to watch you do it.’

  ‘It’s by moonlight,’ Molly corrected. ‘Not midnight; moonlight.’

  ‘Who cares? I still want to watch.’

  ‘Bugger watching,’ said Molly after a pause, ‘I want to do it too.

  ‘What,’ said Angie, ‘thinking about Joe along with me?’

  ‘Probably not, but I can find something else to think about. Your next-room neighbour usually does the trick.’

  ‘I know,’ said Fiona, ‘let’s all do it.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Angie, ‘do you honestly believe I can think about a bloke with you two jilling beside me?’

  ‘You’ll have to,’ Fiona said smugly. ‘You promised and you always keep your promises, don’t you?’

  That was true so, after Fiona took her turn to be Lucky Pierre, with Molly due her turn next, the three of them jilled side by side awaiting midnight. And, because they were all girls together, the workload was equally shared.

  Angie, in the middle, frigged Fiona with her left hand, Molly with her right.

  And the other two frigged her with one hand each, as good friends always should.

  ‘Ten to go,’ said Fiona, checking her state-of-the-art watch. ‘I’ll count us down by the minute, and then by the second.’

  ‘Are you thinking exclusively of Joe?’ Molly enquired.

  ‘Yes I am,’ Angie said sincerely.

  ‘No,’ Fiona chuckled. ‘I’m thinking of that darts player Angie’s gonna fuck on Monday. Legs on her! Up to her chin, they are. Bet Angie can’t wait to have ‘em wrapped around her neck.’

  Angie grimaced at that, wishing she hadn’t let Eileen’s name drop.

  ‘Eight minutes to go,’ said Fiona.

  Pushing Eileen out of her head, Angie concentrated solely on Joe, trusting her hands to work on auto.

  *****

  At the other side of town Joe was on his back on his bed, a hand steadily working on his exceptionally hard ha
rd-on. And yes, he was thinking solely of Angie.