by Limey Lady
‘You sound like a school teacher,’ said Angie, kneeling on the carpet before her.
‘And teacher is always right,’ Felicity replied, grinning. ‘And by the way, this is a look but don’t touch lesson. No, it’s a look, listen and learn lesson. I’ll let you know if and when you’re allowed to touch.’
‘Go ahead; I’m all eyes and ears.’
‘Okay, so it’s basically a vibrator. Have you used vibrators before?’
‘Yes. Mostly my straight friend’s rabbit; we’ve used it a lot together.’
Felicity’s brow creased. ‘How straight is this friend of yours?’
‘She’s about the same as my other straight girlfriends: curious and inclined to stray.’
‘I see.’ Felicity shook her head and pressed the remote, the vibrations making the blue egg wobble about on her palm. ‘Right then; this little beauty has four patterns and three speeds. That’s a dozen lovely, mind-blowing combinations. Home alone, a girl can run through them one after another, time after time. But, with a girlfriend in charge of the remote, it’s a different kettle of fish. A certain degree of teasing and tormenting comes into play . . . plus the thrill of the unexpected, naturally.’
‘I’m not sure I quite understand.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Felicity, you soon will.’
Realizing she already had the thrill of the unexpected, Angie laughed and kept listening.
‘These things are supposed to be silent,’ the blonde went on. ‘As you can hear, they’re not, not quite, but they certainly aren’t loud. Girls have been known to use them in restaurants and bars . . . Under cover, so to speak.’
‘You mean . . .’
‘I mean a couple like you and me, sat at a table, you sipping soup and cutting your sirloin, me bringing you off at irregular intervals with the remote. Sounds fun, no?’
‘It sounds debauched,’ said Angie. Then she laughed again. ‘And yeah, it sounds like enormous fun.’
‘Okay, so here’s the demo. Normally I’d suggest a dash of lubricant, just in case. And I’d warn about overdoing it; the egg can pop straight back out if you overdo it.’
‘It’s exclusively internal then?’ asked Angie.
‘No it isn’t. But everyone I know prefers it internally. If you’ll shut up and pay attention, I’ll try to show you why.’
‘I’m so sorry, ma’am.’
Felicity gave her another look and half a smile. ‘Right then,’ she said briskly, ‘seeing as I’m as wet as I’ve been in ages, I’m skipping the lube. See this drawstring?’
Angie saw it all right but leant in closer anyway.
‘We take care to leave it outside,’ Felicity continued, ‘just like you-know-what. And we also take care to push the egg in very, very slowly.’
Angie watched as her friend gradually eased the bright blue ovoid into herself.
‘If I was on my own,’ Felicity said, not quite swallowing the toy, ‘I’d set it vibrating now. I have the most amazing bunch of nerve endings right here.’
‘You and me both,’ Angie agreed.
‘But, in the interests of the demonstration . . . Well, onwards and inwards.’
The blonde pressed the egg farther in. Fascinated, Angie watched as it gradually disappeared, pink lips hungrily engulfing it, urging it on its way.
‘It’s quite possible to alternate,’ said Felicity. ‘Vibrating or not, I can push it in with my fingers, pull out with the string. See what I mean? It’s like going for a different rhythm within the multiple rhythms.’
‘Do you feel full?’ Angie asked, genuinely interested because the toy seemed so small.
‘Pussies are tight and retentive,’ said Felicity, remarkably cool considering what she was doing. ‘Mine is particularly so. So yes, it fills me. And doesn’t it feel good!’
She had been sitting on the edge of the bed. Now she shifted position and lay back with her head on a pillow. Not wanting to miss one word of the lesson, Angie followed her, kneeling on the duvet, closer than close.
Pressing a button on the remote, Felicity proceeded.
‘This is the basic pattern on the slowest speed. Can you hear it?’
‘Yes. I’d hear it in a restaurant, too.’
‘What, over background music and all the other sounds of folk eating and chatting?’
‘Hmmm, possibly not, but I wouldn’t be sure. Not if I actually knew it was vibrating, I mean.’
‘Trust me . . . You’d know!’
‘I guess I would,’ Angie admitted, suitably enthralled.
‘Maybe a bit of uncertainty adds to the occasion,’ said Felicity. ‘Maybe we should try it the next time we get together, downstairs in the bar.’
‘Maybe we should, but what else does it do?’
In response Felicity pressed another button. The faint buzz accelerated, becoming a little louder. ‘This is the same pattern on medium,’ she said, her composure less complete, slightly ruffled. ‘Two minutes of this and I’ll cum.’
‘Go ahead, be my guest.’
Angie edged in closer still. Felicity was shaved clean down there. Streaks of lady juice were running in all directions, soaking the bed covers. She smelt of shampoo, feminine deodorant and woman.
She smelt heavenly.
‘This is what I like,’ Felicity murmured, inching her right hand towards her clitoral hood, moving it over her clit, the incessant buzzing resounding. ‘And it’s better to have an audience.’ She moaned, gasped and laughed. ‘I’ve never had an audience before. Not like this, anyway.’
Dismissing “look but don’t touch”, Angie kissed the inside of Felicity’s thigh.
Felicity sighed and said, ‘Oh yes.’
Encouraged, her eyes still fixed on Felicity’s firmly, regularly stimulated clit, Angie kissed the inside of her other thigh.
Felicity groaned.
‘Oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes.’
Her orgasm was ballistic. Swapping kissing for licking, Angie put in as much extra effort as she could.
Swapping the first pattern for the next, still sticking to medium speed, Felicity started over.
‘Two minutes of this and I’ll cum,’ she promised yet again.
Chapter Five
Somehow mid-afternoon became late-ish evening and Felicity wanted to buy dinner.
‘It’s my shout, she insisted. ‘And you’re supposed to be a penniless student, so shut up and join me in the shower.’
Angie could have claimed she’d recently earned her keep behind the Union Bar. Or that she was flush with “Christmas Money” from her parents. But she could see that Felicity meant business.
So she shut up and joined her in the shower.
Showering together was great fun and drying each other afterwards was . . . Well, girly but interesting.
No, it was girly and very, very interesting.
‘Dinner on me,’ Felicity said, smiling into Angie’s eyes. ‘And, seeing as you’ve done all the giving, you get the star prize.’
Angie scowled. ‘I thought I already had the star prize.’
‘No you haven’t. Not yet. Tonight, Angie, you get to go out with an egg. And don’t bother arguing; I am not listening.’
‘I am not going out with an egg up my pussy,’ Angie argued.
‘I dare you,’ Felicity retorted.
That did the trick.
‘I dare do anything,’ Angie countered . . . rashly.
‘I know you dare. And I knew you’d say that.’
*****
It wasn’t easy to tell if having the (as yet inert) egg inside her was a turn-on. On the one hand Angie was literally hopping from foot to foot, expecting the by-now familiar buzz at any second. On the other hand the suspense was killing her.
So how the heck was she supposed to form a reasoned opinion?
How with Felicity smirking, sniggering and leaving her to stew?
Felicity knew where the “best” restaurant was. Fresh from the shower, she was back in her après gym kit of pink trainer
s, leggings and striped jumper. Thanks to the chilly time of year she had added her smart work jacket and looked yummier than ever.
The remote control was in her left-side jacket pocket.
And her left hand was forever hovering . . . forever hovering without pouncing.
At least it was as yet.
The bistro wasn’t a million miles from the hotel (it was only sexual tension making it seem like several light years away). A very pleasant, middle-aged guy who may have been Italian ushered them in and up to a prime corner table.
‘A day without wine is like a day without sunshine,’ he said. ‘What can I bring you?’
‘It has to be pinot every time for me,’ said Felicity. ‘One of those litre carafes will do very nicely.
Angie nodded. ‘Make it a two litre carafe,’ she said. ‘She’s paying.’
‘Bellissimo,’ he replied with half a theatrical bow, not necessarily proving his ancestry but confirming he knew how to suck up to his clientele.
‘Felicity . . .’ Angie began, more on edge than ever.
‘Relax,’ the blonde replied, sniggering. ‘Anticipation is most of the deal, yeah?’
‘Felicity . . .’
Her objection was interrupted by the arrival of their wine. And the massive carafe was chilled within an inch of its life. Condensation was constantly forming and trickling down with gravity, leaving wet snail-trails in its wake.
‘You pour,’ said Felicity, ‘then get a load of the menu.’
Angie was slightly wrong-footed. Her blonde friend had obviously dined here often enough to know the ropes inside out and upside down.
She also still had her finger on the remote.
‘I’ll go for the minestrone and a steak,’ Angie said, not bothering to look at the carte du jour.
‘I always did have you down as a soup and sirloin girl,’ said Felicity, sniggering again.
‘Ah well, you’re wrong. I’m going for the fillet with pepper sauce, not the sirloin.’
‘Let’s just call it a close miss.’
‘Cheers,’ Angie replied, touching her glass to Felicity’s.
The maître d’ was back, notebook in hand. Angie’s hostess expertly gave him their order then covertly slipped her hand back into her jacket pocket.
Angie nearly died. By then she was familiar with all of the egg’s patterns and speeds. Felicity had set it off again on the second pattern, and at its slowest pace.
Even so, the bloody thing was buzzing like a swarm of bees. Fighting off sheer panic, Angie somehow convinced herself she was “hearing” vibrations which were inaudible to anyone outside of her body.
But hey, it was a hard sell!
Felicity, meanwhile, was sniggering and pressing more buttons. Sticking to the slowest pace, she very casually ran through one pattern after another . . . again and again and again.
Angie kept sipping vino and somehow didn’t spontaneously combust. An afternoon of full-on sex was not a patch on this. Not even no-holds-barred with a new lover. Not even with all the toys and tricks in the universe.
An afternoon of full-on sex wasn’t to be sneezed at, that went without saying, but the excitement here and now was up and off the scale.
And how the hell could no-one hear that buzz! The small bistro was crammed and she could feel it in her teeth.
Not to mention in her . . .
Her . . .
Congratulating herself on her self-control, Angie rode through the sequence of ever-changing patterns without mishap. Well, okay, she was unmistakably building and building, but today’s latest flimsy pair of panties was not as yet wrecked.
Not quite, anyway.
Then their starters arrived: Angie’s soup and prosciutto for Felicity.
And then, before Angie could ladle up her first spoonful, the vibrations stopped.
How unfair was that!
‘I’m going to get you,’ Angie hissed across the table. ‘Never mind going home to have an early night. I am going to get you for that.’
There was venom in her tone . . . and intent, too. Saying she was “as satisfied as ever”, Felicity hadn’t committed to a return to bed. She was tired, she’d made out. Tomorrow was another day . . .
Not now it wasn’t. ‘I mean it,’ said Angie. ‘I’m going to get you so bad.’
Felicity didn’t appear to be particularly concerned. She stuck out the pink tip of her tongue in the usual worldwide gesture of disrespect before clicking her remote.
Straight in at pattern three . . . in middle gear!
Angie had been (so to speak).abandoned there on the sheer edge of a very high cliff. She’d actually fallen backwards, away from that edge, in an awful, painful slow-motion. Her minestrone forgotten in the blink of an eye, she re-climbed.
And she re-climbed faster than the fastest mountaineer. A champion at abseiling couldn’t have gone down as fast as she went back up.
‘Omigod,’ she breathed through clenched teeth, perversely wishing Felicity would spare her.
She didn’t.
‘Isn’t the food in here wonderful?’ Felicity said sweetly, conversationally.
Angie usually came like a nuclear event. Right then she came like planets colliding head-on . . . and big rocky ones at that, not gas giants.
Exhibiting superhuman strength, she managed not to disturb other diners.
‘Why thank you, Felicity,’ she said, surprised by the evenness of her own voice. ‘That had to be one of the best starters ever.’
‘Good,’ said Felicity, pressing another button. ‘More is yet to come.’
*****
Angie grabbed the blonde ten yards away from the bistro, pulling her into what was more like a side street than an alley, releasing tons and tons of pent-up energy in one mighty, passionate snog.
Without rhyme or reason their groins were grinding again. It may have been in Angie’s imagination, but their contact seemed pre-ordained.
‘Jesus, yes,’ Felicity grunted.
Angie, very conscious of the dormant-again toy inside her, pressing Felicity up hard against a plain brick wall, ground on and on. ‘Come on duck,’ she urged, ‘come on and cum for me.’
She already knew that Felicity could cum for England, that her restraint and reserve was just as poor as her own.
Or should that be just as joyous and plentiful?
Whatever, three minutes of grinding and Felicity was after her remote. Grabbing her scrambling hand, Angie grinned into her tense, taught face.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Forget going home for an early-ish night after having a few quiet drinks.’
‘Having a few quiet drinks sounds good to me,’ Felicity protested.
Then, defying everything, she hit the buttons for pattern one on top speed.
Angie ripped her hand out of her jacket pocket and wildly jabbed buttons herself, getting it wrong first time before finally clicking the damn thing off.
‘Back to the hotel,’ she snarled, ‘right now, this second.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘Fuck what I want. It’s what has to be.’
Felicity laughed. ‘Okay, she said, ‘if you insist.’
Chapter Six
(Thursday 15th January 1998)
Angie woke with a feeling of deep satisfaction. Her second session with Felicity had been much more energetic than their first and she’d been quite splendidly dominant.
Not that she needed to be dominant, of course. It was more a matter of pride. Felicity had been well in charge in the bistro; subsequently taking her to bed and fucking her until she couldn’t walk was only fair payback.
And the loss of mobility was only temporary.
Well, assuming three hours total listlessness counted as temporary . . .
It was nearly eight by the time Felicity came round. She had to be in work by nine so they had a quick shower together then breakfasted on mountains of deliciously unhealthy fried food. Then it was time for her to go and they were in the lobby, holding hands an
d kissing, not giving a toss about other people’s opinions.