Three Times a Lady: Threeway fun (Angie's Adventures Book 4)

by Limey Lady

  ‘What wouldn’t I give for a peaceful life?’

  ‘Aren’t you enjoying the film?’

  ‘It went downhill when that repairman showed up.’

  ‘In that case why are your nips sticking out like that?’

  ‘They’re not,’ Angie said reflexively. Then, after a glance at her chest: ‘Okay, so maybe they are a bit prominent. It must be the girls who are doing it. It’s certainly not him.’

  ‘I like your nips, Ange. They are nothing short of spectacular. Mine should be so prominent.’

  Angie looked at her hostess’s tits, seeing no tell-tale signs of arousal. ‘You hide yours away in a bra,’ she said. ‘Maybe yours would look better if you shared them with the world.’

  In response Abigail rolled up her T-shirt, deftly unclipped her brassiere and tossed it away. She took her time about rolling the T back down, too, giving her guest ample opportunity to see that her nipples were perkily upturned and very, very hard.

  ‘They feel good rubbing against the fabric,’ she said coquettishly, ‘but I prefer them out in the open air. That always feels good, doesn’t it? Especially while watching a blue movie, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I hardly ever watch blue movies.’

  ‘In that case give it a go. I won’t mind.’

  ‘Right; as if I would!’

  ‘Go on, Ange, give it a try. I will if you will.’

  ‘You’re teasing me, Abs.’

  ‘Maybe I’m teasing myself, but I’m a woman of my word. I will if you will.’

  Abigail made it sound like a challenge and Angie never backed away from a challenge.

  ‘We do it together, okay?’

  ‘Sounds naughty,’ Abigail replied, giggling at an innuendo that wasn’t meant to be there. ‘Okay then, on the count of three.’

  They removed their tops in almost perfect synchronization, drinking in the sights and paying the video zero attention.

  ‘You have lovely tits,’ Angie ventured.

  ‘They’re not a patch on yours. But where are my manners? Are you ready for another smoke?’

  *****

  Halfway down her second joint Abs made the sort of suggestion Angie had being praying for. By then one of the blondes was on all-fours being pussy-pounded from behind while the other lay on her back beneath her, her tongue busily lashing clit. Angie’s experience of such situations was, to say the least, limited. But to her it seemed obvious that the guy was imminently about to blast off. It followed that the girl at the bottom of the pile was about to get a faceful of jizz, one way or another.

  The busy-tongued blonde must have known that but, judging from her gleeful expression and ongoing encouragement, she was more than ready for anything coming her way.

  Or, perhaps more accurately, she was ready for anything cumming her way.

  So too was Abigail. Curiouser than curious, she grinned her Cheshire cat grin at Angie.

  ‘If I was on my own I’d be playing with myself by now,’ she said. ‘In fact I probably would have been playing with myself for ages.’

  She shut up after making that statement, leaving the response to her guest.

  Angie didn’t exactly have to tear her eyes away from the TV screen. ‘So go ahead and play,’ she said. The calmness of her voice surprised her.

  This isn’t really making a move, she assured herself. Not really, really, really.

  ‘Unlike your boyfriend, I can be discreet,’ she went on. ‘As far as I’m concerned, what happens in this bedroom stays in this bedroom. It’ll be our little secret.’

  Abigail responded by unfastening her denims and tugging down her zip. Her panties, visible in the V of her zipper space, were the same bright blue as her eyes. She repositioned herself on her tuffet so she was facing Angie, giving her a ringside view.

  ‘I’ve never done this with a girl watching,’ she said, slipping her hand inside, beginning to move it up and down.

  Angie reckoned Abs was concentrating on her slit but rubbing just about all of her pussy. Personally she had previously done that with a girl watching, but this was hotter than hot. Perhaps it was Abigail’s “straight” innocence or perhaps it was the look on her face.

  Or perhaps it was the unspoken promise of whatever lay ahead.

  ‘That looks good,’ she said, aware of the spiralling urge to dive in there with her, determined not to set herself up for a big disappointment.

  ‘It’s better than good,’ Abs countered. ‘And it’ll be better still if you do it as well.’

  ‘Are you asking me to . . . to bring myself off with you?’

  ‘I’m not asking, Ange, I’m begging you, as one horny witch to another.’

  Fair enough. So far Abs had led the way in being forward; now it was Angie’s turn. She slowly, very deliberately took off her Docs and socks before even more slowly taking off her jeans. Once upon a time she’d been ashamed of her manlike body, but not anymore. Oh no, nowadays she knew women liked the way she looked and was quite happy to flaunt.

  Naked apart from her knickers (glad that some knickers looked good on her wide hips, even if no bra ever suited her chest), she slid her right hand over her flat stomach, deep into the restraining elastic of her panties.

  ‘It’ll take me a minute to catch up,’ she said, only too aware they were both breathing heavily, their sounds of self-appreciation mingling with the mostly muted sex film soundtrack.

  Of course, their sounds of self-appreciation weren’t dubbed after the fact. Theirs were very much the real deal.

  ‘I’m gonna cum,’ said Abigail after a quick glance at the TV, possibly inspired by the larger-titted video blonde.

  ‘So come on and cum,’ Angie replied, her left hand frantically replicating the movement of Abs’ right, ‘I want to see you. I want to see you cum right now.’

  If Abigail was faking she should have been on Broadway. Watching her was akin to watching one of the world’s greatest performers performing at her best.

  ‘You do it now,’ she gasped, her hand still working away, her eyes constantly moving from Angie’s tits down to her pussy and back up to her face. ‘Go on, I want to see you cum as hard as me.’

  It didn’t take long and Angie came powerfully, although secretly she doubted she reached anywhere near the same heights.

  Abs grinned at her and kept on masturbating.

  ‘Together this time,’ she said. ‘Let’s finish as one.’

  Chapter Three

  It took them a few efforts but they finally achieved a simultaneous orgasm, and a simply huge one at that. Then, as Angie gasped for breath on the bed, Abigail jumped up from her tuffet.

  ‘We’ve smoked enough,’ she declared. ‘Let’s have beers.’

  Angie grunted assent. She didn’t trust herself with more grass and seriously fancied a drink.

  But Abs wasn’t going immediately. Before heading off for the fridge she removed her jeans, bringing them level in the mostly-naked stakes. Then she held out her right hand, close to Angie’s nose, letting her smell the scent of her sex.

  Not to be outdone, Angie licked Abs’ palm and then sucked her fingers, one by one.

  ‘Pretty brave for a straight girl,’ she remarked.

  Abigail didn’t flinch. ‘Give me your hand,’ she commanded.

  Angie flexed and contracted inside as her fingers were sucked and licked.

  ‘Even braver for a straight girl,’ she said, blatantly staring at Abs’ tits before inching her eyes down to her pussy. ‘Why don’t you hurry up with those beers? I want to watch more dirty movies.’

  Abigail laughed. ‘The movie finished half an hour ago, if you didn’t notice.’

  ‘So it did. I must want to watch more of you.’

  ‘Okay, wait right here.’

  Angie stared at Abs’ ass as she strutted out of the bedroom. They were both reduced to no more than knickers and smiles now, and she for one wasn’t complaining.

  Does jilling together count as having sex, she wondered, or was it somethi
ng straight girls sometimes did?

  Then she remembered the finger sucking and laughed. That was sex all right. It counted as sex when she and Miss Pearce watched each other masturbate, and it counted as sex with Abigail.

  It was the circumstances, obviously, but that finger sucking experience reached twelve out of ten on her erotic scorecard. There had been nothing “straight” about it; no way, Jose.

  So what would happen next? Should she keep holding back or try to progress?

  She was still dithering over her dilemma when Abs returned with two chilled bottles of Bud. Angie half-drained hers as soon as she got it.

  ‘Do you have other videos?’

  ‘I’ve got several sex ones, but most of them wouldn’t interest you. I’ve got a sex toy, though. We could play with that instead.’

  Sex toys were up there among Angie’s specialist subjects. Miss Pearce had loads of them and they’d all been used extensively. She wasn’t going to say no, was she? Not with her insides doing fluttery things again and hot blood coursing through her veins.

  ‘Okay by me,’ she said. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’

  Abigail went back under her floorboard and produced a satin drawstring bag. The toy in it was green and looked like a malformed cactus. Rather smugly, Angie had thought she’d seen everything, but it was suddenly obvious she had not.

  ‘What on earth’s that?’

  ‘It’s my rabbit,’ Abs explained. ‘I can make the shaft and ears vibrate independently and at all sorts of different speeds.’

  ‘What does it do, exactly?’

  ‘It stimulates internally and externally. You can choose between vaginal and clitoral orgasms. Or you can try to get a dual orgasm. That takes a bit of practice but trust me; it’s well worth the effort.’

  ‘You sound like an Ann Summers salesperson.’

  ‘Now there’s a possible career! Er, should I take it that you haven’t got one yourself?’

  ‘Yes, you should.’

  ‘Okay then, here’s the choice. You can try it and learn as you go on. Or you can watch me before you try it. Or . . .’

  Angie’s heart was in her mouth. ‘Or . . .’ she prompted.

  ‘Or you can let me use it on you.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ went Angie. ‘Oh go on then, twist my arm.’

  Abigail was already purposefully advancing on the bed.

  ‘Be a good girl and take off your panties, Ange,’ she said. ‘And prepare to visit heaven.’

  *****

  Abigail had been telling the truth when she’d said she was curious. A lot of her contemporaries were curious too. It was maybe a sign of the times or maybe a sign of maturity. A few years ago the idea of “lesbians” had been a creepy one. In fact it had been nearly as creepy as the idea of gay men. But, as time passed, opinions had changed.

  Well, not necessarily about gay men; as far as Abigail was concerned the thought of two men fucking together would always be weird. Consequently she left them to it and made of point of never thinking about the mechanics.

  Thinking about lesbianism wasn’t out of bounds, however; not anymore. Leastways, thinking about lesbianism as portrayed in movies and on TV wasn’t taboo. She and most of her peers agreed that it had become distinctly sexy. Maybe it had something to do with those raunchy female pop stars flaunting their “alternate” sexualities, earning zillions of dollars in the process.

  And no doubt zillions of lady admirers into the bargain.

  Zillions of fellow females couldn’t all be wrong, could they?

  Not that Abigail was getting carried away on the lipstick wave. When she’d felt the first faint stirrings of interest she’d immediately read up on the subject. According to her research, most “women who had sex with women” didn’t belong on the cover of Vogue. More to the point, most of those brave women didn’t want to belong on a cover . . . and neither did their girlfriends.

  Okay, there were heaps of good-looking lesbians out there, but there seemed to be a very wide range of tastes when it came to appearance.

  No, make that a very, very wide range.

  Somewhere during her research Abs had decided that different preferences were a good thing. As an attractive straight girl she’d never been short of approaches from guys. Tall, short, fat, thin, handsome and ugly, she’d had the approaches. And she’d learnt to look beyond looks and go for character.

  She had most of the time, anyway. Virtually spoilt for choice as she was, she had made a policy of not always going for the obvious.

  Back then, intrigued but afraid to take the plunge, she’d reckoned that her policy with guys would work just as well with girls. Girls tended to be nicer people to begin with, didn’t they? And, while a pretty girl was always good on the eye, wasn’t there lots to be said for a plain girl with attitude?

  Abigail suspected there were numerous lesbians at her school, plenty of them in denial and patiently waiting for university to set them free. She suspected there were plenty of curious girls too, including some who might have experimented already. But there were only four who were out and in faces.

  Four liberated females who were all sexy as fuck.

  Liz and Suzanne were the obvious pairing, both drop-dead gorgeous in different ways. Abigail ran out of superlatives in trying to describe their good points, but Sandra eclipsed them in every way.

  Sandra who’d shrugged off tons of male admirers and hooked up with Angie instead.

  Of the four Angie was the one a neutral observer would tag “lezzie” without hesitation. There was little if anything lipstick about her and she took pride in being a big, tough-looking skinhead. She took pride in being manly and not at all conventionally attractive, too.

  Except she continually did herself down. Yes, she stood over six feet and could have played prop for Leeds Rhinos, but Helen of Troy would have killed for her face. And the habitual shaven head didn’t really detract.

  Thinking about the skinhead cut brought a tear to Abigail’s eyes. She hadn’t known Angie at the time but apparently she used to have beautiful long black hair. Then she’d had a childhood accident and bumped her head. Diagnosed as lucky and undamaged, she’d been sent home from hospital . . . only to wake next morning with all those lovely black locks lying loose on her pillow.

  Abigail liked her self-image. She regularly thanked God for her appearance and knockout figure. And she knew she wasn’t as strong as Angie. If she’d woken to find her hair had fallen out she’d have had kittens. And, if her hair hadn’t grown back perfectly, she’d have killed herself.

  Not Angie, though. Aged twelve, frustrated when she could only grow a straggly mess, had gone for the nuclear solution.

  Yes, everything about Angie admirable. She was tall and strong with a stunning face and the build of a top male sportsman.

  What wasn’t there to like about that? Especially when Angie was here, naked on her bed and ready to play?

  Deep inside Abigail knew that this was wrong. She’d been wrong to steal Bobby in the first place. That shouldn’t have happened. And having sex with his ex would hardly put things right, would it?

  But the impulse was too much to deny. And never mind Bobby’s past. Or Angie’s come to that.

  This was here and now. Angie was here. Bobby was not.

  Enough of pondering; on with the show . . .

  Chapter Four

  Abigail desperately wanted to kiss Angie but wasn’t sure of the protocol. She also desperately did not want to put a foot wrong. So, keeping up the “toy playing” front, she positioned herself between the so sexy skinhead’s parted thighs.

  Angie’s was the first sexually aroused pussy she had ever encountered. And wasn’t it something! She had wondered if a little KY might be required but one glance dismissed jelly as totally unnecessary. Juice was oozing out in a very liberal sort of a way: inexperienced in girl-sex as she was, Abigail could see that lubrication wasn’t going to be an issue.

  Wasn’t that puss-puss a sight for sore eyes! Closely but
not totally shaven, it resembled the (lack of) hair on Angie’s head. Way too diplomatic to make such an observation, Abigail stroked it instead.

  The feel was amazing: smooth as silk in one direction, deliciously spiky in the other.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Angie sighed. ‘Oh yes, Abs, that’s so good.’

  Abigail ran her index finger up and down Angie’s slit. Then, enthused by a lot of appreciative moans and groans, she circled the mouth of Angie’s vagina.