by Limey Lady
‘Yes I do.’
To her enormous surprise Madhu laughed. ‘No wonder Mum took a shine to you.’
Angie tried not to gape. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that Mum likes girls.’
‘I thought she was a happily married mother of five.’
‘She was . . . until Dad died. Then, maybe six months later, she moved in Auntie Eileen. They’ve been sharing a bed ever since.’
Realization dawned on Angie. ‘Is Auntie Eileen the woman in the photo; the one with red hair?’
‘Yes, she’s of Irish extraction.’ Madhu laughed again. ‘She’s not really my aunt, of course, but that is how she always puts it. “I’m of Irish extraction,” she says, “and mine’s a Guinness.”’
‘I like Guinness myself,’ said Angie, ‘but however do you put up with it? Having a woman sharing your mum’s bed, I mean?’
‘It’s a million times better than having some strange man sharing her bed. And Eileen’s a nice person. Even my youngest brother can’t find fault. Well, apart from her supporting Villa and not liking cricket.’
Angie mused over that statement and decided it was as politically correct as could be. Personally, she didn’t like football or cricket, but the redhead was a bit of all right. If (God forbid!) anything happened to her own dad, she wouldn’t object to Mum moving in a similar “auntie”.
‘So,’ she said, ‘your mum had . . . I dunno . . . prior experience?’
‘She won’t tell. When we were little all she’d say was that she had met Dad at uni and fallen hook, line and sinker. But she knew Auntie Eileen from before. I suspect Eileen was in there before Dad.’
‘”In there”,’ Angie echoed. ‘You make it sound like hunting a fox.’
Madhu just laughed.
‘I wasn’t trying it on,’ Angie hazarded. ‘Me staying over last night, I mean. I would never, ever make an unwanted approach. And I never tell tales. If I’ve anything to do with it nobody will ever know that we slept together.’
‘Do you really think I’m bothered about other people’s opinions?’
‘I don’t know what you’re bothered about, but I’m only getting straight vibes. And I certainly don’t want to get you a reputation. Not at this very early stage of your academic career.’
‘I believe I am straight,’ Madhu said after a pause. ‘And perhaps I am bothered about opinions. I don’t put Mum down for how she is, though. I don’t and I never will.’
‘I suspect your mum is proud of you,’ said Angie. ‘And I suspect it’s time to visit a few more stalls.’
‘Do you mean LGBT?’ Madhu laughed again. ‘I saw you looking at that blonde and grinning. Shall we go back and make her day?’
‘I don’t even know her.’ Angie shook her head but couldn’t hide the renewed grin. ‘But I know who she is.’
‘And . . .’
‘And, like the rest of my love life, it’s rather complicated . . .’
*****
The Monday events of Freshers’ week tailed off around four pm. Angie escorted Madhu safely back to her door and wished her well. And then, alone in her room, although she had a (hopefully) long night of sex lined up, she decided to masturbate.
Okay, so it was self-indulgent, but why not?
In all honesty, masturbating just then was a reflex action. She was in doubt about what lay ahead. Her solitary boyfriend, Bobby, hadn’t been much of a success. He’d had numerous goes at pleasuring her without ever hitting the bull. It wasn’t so much that she hadn’t enjoyed being fucked . . .
Well, if asked to explain she’d have quoted those plaintive girls on TV: “It’s not you, it’s me!”
Yet, rather surprisingly, Angie had enjoyed fucking with Bobby. Fucking with him had been cosy and snug. The only thing wrong was that she never came. Otherwise she had no complaints at all. She liked sucking him too, and giving out a hand-job rated high on the excitement scale.
Seeing that first trickle of white stuff, followed by two or three mighty spurts . . .
But being fucked by a girl with a strap-on was infinitely superior to anything she had done with Bobby. She didn’t only cum being fucked by a girl: she came and came and came.
In her mind the sex of the lover meant all. A guy couldn’t do it, but a girl with a toy could.
So what could a girl with a real cock do for her?
And Sarah-Jayne was a girl with a cock. She wasn’t a guy with tits, she was all-woman. She’d never before met anyone with a body like hers.
Just thinking about her was stimulation enough.
For perhaps half an hour Angie played with her wet pussy and imagined her hand moving on Sarah-Jayne’s rock-hard cock. Then, a couple of cums in, she imagined herself in bed with Madhu’s mum.
Nice image!
Madhu’s mum wasn’t traditionally good-looking. She was small and rounded but oozed sex. Cumming while thinking about her was not difficult.
Then Angie thought about the girl herself.
Back in her sixth form days Angie had been incredibly lucky. “Betty-No-Mates” had ended up with five lovers on the go, all of them drop-dead gorgeous. Sandra, with her dark ebony skin, supermodel looks and Olympic athlete’s body, had without doubt been the pick of the bunch.
But looks-wise Madhu ran Sandra closer than close.
Aware what she was doing was wrong . . . aware that she’d probably upset Teddy forever . . . Angie brought herself off three times in quick succession . . . thinking about Madhu all along.
Try as she might, she couldn’t feel guilty afterwards.
*****
Given an agreed time Angie normally arrived bang on the dot, not a second sooner and not a second later. That Monday she turned up quarter of an hour early and, after a quick swig of beer, visited the ladies’
Buying condoms was not her specialist subject. Bobby had been a rock-solid devotee of rubbers. He had always had dozens on them, secreted about his person. Angie had never needed to worry about lack of preparedness. But now, having agreed to go to bed with a girl with a real-life, sperm-shooting cock, she was unsure about etiquette.
Was the onus on her or the sperm-shooter?
Or should a girl of the world bite the bullet and take care of herself?
In the end, like Bobby and millions of boy scouts worldwide, she decided to be ready for anything.
The ladies’ was as good a place as any to prepare. She had a choice of two vending machines and of dozens of colours, flavours and shapes. Putting a handful of coins in the slot, she selected a packet of three black, flavourless ones . . . without protrusions.
Sarah-Jayne’s a girl with a cock, she continually reminded herself. She isn’t a guy with tits; she’s a girl with a cock.
When Angie went back into the Union Sarah-Jayne was in conversation with Joe, the bar manager. Joe looked at Angie and signalled with his eyes, as if he was afraid she was about to get in out of her depth. Angie replied with a wink before kissing her date.
‘Looking good,’ she said appreciatively. ‘Dry white, is it?’
Sarah-Jayne laughed prettily. ‘You’ll be drinking like a man and so will I.’
Joe was still looking concerned. Angie winked at him again. ‘Two Marston’s please.’
Frowning, he pulled them their pints.
Chapter Four
Outwardly Sarah-Jayne oozed confidence, but she genuinely did not know what to expect from Angie. Appearance-wise, with her skinhead and strong, mannish body, she was undoubtedly butch. But then so was Charlie, and Charlie was (allegedly) not very butch at all.
Sipping her beer, Sarah-Jayne hid a smile. She only knew about Charlie by hearsay (sadly!), although she’d heard from plenty of well-informed sources. And like everyone else, she’d witnessed enough of Ruby’s bullying to know Charlie wasn’t nearly as masculine as she looked.
Angie had finished her second pint already. She was trying to attract the barman’s attention, wanting to buy more. Sarah-Jayne took opportunity to study her
ass as she stood on the bar-rail, wanting to make herself even more noticeable.
Not too mannish, she thought wryly. Her ass goes with her tits, not the rest of her body. But forget the bees and tees, what is she really going to be like?
At twenty-four Sarah-Jayne was older that a lot of undergraduates. She was also experienced in ways most of her peers couldn’t even imagine. Yet she’d been chasing Charlie for two years without a sniff of success. By all accounts Angie had clicked with Charlie in maybe ten minutes.
She’d clicked quickly with Billie, as well. And Sarah-Jayne could personally testify that Billie was quite a handful. In fact Billie could be insatiable. Yet, questioned about her night with Angie, the horny punk had rolled her eyes and sighed.
‘She’s a force of nature,’ she’d confided. ‘Forget it, Sare; she’d leave you for dead.’
So, the feedback was all positive. Angie was passionate, endowed with great staying power and had an appetite to match. And she wasn’t above hopping from bed to bed. Sarah-Jayne sincerely admired such qualities in a girl.
But Angie had agreed to have sex tonight without a second’s hesitation. And she knew she was in for a good, vigorous fucking; loudmouth Charlie had told her all about the cock hadn’t she? Half the Union Bar had heard that little exchange. She’d shrugged off Joe’s attempted warning lightly enough, too. Yes, she knew what she was in for all right.
She knew and she was up for it.
What did Angie expect, though? Would a strong, passionate force of nature simply open her legs and take it? Or would she insist on being the top?
Grinning, Sarah-Jayne accepted her fresh drink and decided to play it by ear.
*****
Angie made her first move thirty yards shy of the curry house, stopping Sarah-Jayne in her tracks with a hungry kiss. Sarah-Jayne was okay with that. Putting her arms around Angie she kissed back.
And wasn’t kissing Angie something else! Most everything about her looked tough and ferocious but her mouth was both softer than soft and hotter than hot. Who cared if they were half-blocking a busy sidewalk? Not Sarah-Jayne. For the time being at least, she was happy to stand there and snog.
For the time being forever wouldn’t be long enough.
Tonight was nominally a “date” so Sarah-Jayne had dressed accordingly. She had also accounted for unexpectedly warm weather. She was in a light, gypsy-style white blouse, a short, brown leather skirt and a pair of heels (to minimize the height difference). Angie was dressed as per always in jeans and a T. And she evidently liked the skirt . . . or maybe she just liked what was under it; she was bum-squeezing as she snogged.
Their bodies were tight together, tit-to-tit, groin-to-groin. Realizing that she’d got a hard-on (already!), Sarah-Jayne politely shifted her lower body away. Angie immediately dragged her back into contact.
And this time she made their contact tighter than tight.
‘That feels good,’ she said into Sarah-Jayne’s ear, ‘feels like the rumours are true.’
‘What rumours?’
‘I’ll tell you later, when I’ve had in-depth confirmation. Let’s go get that curry.’
‘We can go straight to mine if you want,’ said Sarah-Jayne.
Angie wavered, obviously tempted by her baser instincts. ‘I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,’ she said finally. ‘I’ve been saving myself. If I don’t eat now I might flake out on the job, and that’d be a shame. Why don’t we skip the full wining and dining experience in favour of main courses and the odd pint of Cobra?’
‘Do you mean skipping the starters?’
‘Yes, I mean having mains as starters and you for dessert.’
So that’s what they did. Finding a corner table in Gandhi’s Revenge, they each ordered madras and beer and touched each other under the table. Well, Angie did most of the touching; Sarah-Jayne did most of the sitting there and being touched.
And wasn’t she excited. Angie fingers moved continually from her bare thigh and onto her skirt, where they traced the outline of her cock. Speaking of which, she’d never been so hard. It wasn’t simply the touching; it was something about Angie, maybe the element of the unknown.
Oh my, wasn’t that an arse-about-face way of looking at their liaison? Wasn’t Sarah-Jayne supposed to always be the wild card?
She tore off a corner of chapatti and scooped up lots of heavily-spiced mince. Angie did likewise and still somehow found a free hand to keep on touching her.
And touching her some more.
Then, abruptly, the curries were eaten and they were at Sarah-Jayne’s, not bothering with the grand tour, going straight into the bedroom to stand and snog . . . tit-to-tit, groin-to-groin.
‘Ladies first,’ Angie announced eventually, unfastening Sarah-Jayne’s top button.
Sarah-Jayne preferred to think of herself as a “lady” but didn’t demur. Instead she just stayed where she was and allowed the blouse to be slowly undone and peeled off her. Angie laughed gleefully as she unhooked the bra.
‘Beautiful,’ she said, reverently kissing each erect nipple, time after time.
She wasn’t so slow in removing her own T-shirt and was, as usual, bra-less beneath. Sarah-Jayne let out a sigh at the sight.
‘Beautiful,’ she echoed.
Before she could kiss nipples Angie had closed with her and their breasts were together, pressing and rubbing; pressing and rubbing with great ardour. The sensation was exquisite.
‘I’ve got lightning bolts shooting through me,’ Angie gasped.
Breaking contact, she sat on the bed and took off her boots. Still playing things by ear, Sarah-Jayne stood and watched. Impossible though it seemed, excitement was building inside her. What she had felt in Gandhi’s was nothing compared to this. At this moment there seemed to be no limits.
The realization was as scary as it was thrilling.
‘There,’ said Angie, kicking free from her denims, displaying herself naked apart from a flimsy pair of white panties. ‘What you see is what you get.’
She sounded confident as she spoke, and with good reason. Sarah-Jayne drank her in. Yes, her body was mannish . . . but that didn’t stop it from being sexy.
‘Kickers off,’ she said boldly. ‘I want to see.’
Grinning, Angie obliged. She was shaven down there but not cleanly-shaven. Sarah-Jayne reckoned she’d used the same razor setting as she used on her head.
‘Skirt off,’ said Angie. ‘I want to see.’
Sarah-Jayne tugged down her zip and let the skirt fall away. She was aware her own flimsy panties couldn’t contain her rock-hard cock and, for a moment, was afraid to look down.
How embarrassing to see it poking so rudely out of the fabric!
‘Like a horse,’ Angie said, unabashedly staring. ‘Stay right there. Leave this to me.’
Suddenly Angie was on her knees, the panties were around Sarah-Jayne’s ankles and a remarkably soft mouth was working on her.
‘Oh my God,’ Sarah-Jayne groaned. ‘Oh my God yes.’
Secretly, she’d expected Angie to be at a loss when confronted with a cock; that she would not know what to do with one. That perhaps she’d freeze and become all submissive.
But she knew what to do all right.
Oh boy, didn’t she just!
‘More,’ Sarah-Jayne begged. ‘Please Angie, more!’
Chapter Five
A real-life cock wasn’t a new experience for Angie, of course. She’d gone out with Bobby for over two months, fucking with him three or four times a week. She had, however, only ever sucked him through a flavoured condom. Sucking Sarah-Jayne bareback was a whole new experience of tastes and feels.
Bareback, transgender and sexier than sex!
It was a good experience, too. No, it was a wonderful experience. It was infinitely more empowering than sucking off Bobby . . . and making him wriggle and squirm had been enormous fun.
Sarah-Jayne appeared to be enjoying herself too.
‘Angie,’ she soon warned, ‘I�
��m going to cum.’
Good, thought Angie, that’s why I’m doing this, no?
She kept going and was rewarded with a drop of warm, salty wetness on her tongue.
‘Yes,’ Sarah-Jayne grunted. Firmly but not roughly, she thrust deeper into Angie’s mouth.