by JT Harding
I lay beside her and pulled my dress up. I felt it immediately, a cool drift of air tickling inside my thighs. It gusted and my pubic hair ruffled, the breeze kissing my pussy lips.
“Good?” Georgia said, looking across at me.
I nodded.
“Wicked, ain’t it?”
I nodded again and grinned.
“Does anyone ever come this way, Lil?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Not often, but sometimes.”
“Damn. I was thinking of stripping off and going skinny dipping. Or even just stripping off and sunbathing.”
“Naked?” I said. “That might be a little too risky.”
“Ah well…” She rolled onto her belly and wriggled until her head was level with my thighs. She lifted my dress, openly looking at me. “In that case, I’ll have to feast my eyes on this gorgeous vision of womanhood.”
“Georgia!” I gasped, shocked.
“What, honey? You know you want me to.”
I was flustered. Yes, I did want her to. But out here, where anyone passing might see?
She ran the back of her finger up my thigh almost to the top, teasing me, but before reaching where I wanted her to go her hand slid away. She lifted herself and pulled her dress up until it was around her waist. The pale globes of her backside shimmered in the light.
“Ooh, this feels so wicked, Lil,” she said as she squirmed her bare belly against the grass.
She pulled my dress up further and I lay on the grass and let her. My dress was, like hers, above my waist now and my tawny red patch caught the breeze. Georgia slid her hand up again, lightly brushed my outer lips and then ran her fingers through my pubic hair.
“You got a nice bush, Lil. Real nice.”
“I like yours too, Georgia,” I said, although I hadn’t really seen hers in the way she was now studying mine.
“Yeah? I always think I’m too hairy. But you’re so fine, so light. If I blow like this, look,” and she wriggled up, pursed her lips and blew on me. I felt air against my pussy, ruffling my bush. “See, it ripples. If you did that to me I don’t suppose mine would even move.”
“Oh, it might,” I said.
“You think? You wanna try, Lil?”
“Blowing on you?”
“Yeah. Go on, I don’t mind, as long as you don’t. Though I guess you might not like getting so close to my pussy. I hadn’t thought about that. I like being close to yours.”
“I don’t mind,” I said quickly, and as though in a dream Georgia turned around so her belly was near my head. She lay on her side and I rolled a little until we faced each other like a pair of bookends.
“There ya go, Lil,” she said. “Give it a little blow. See what happens.”
I puckered and blew directly onto her patch of pubic hair. It moved. Georgia wasn’t being completely honest. Her bush was jet black, almost as fine as mine, perhaps a little wilder but not by much. One or two hairs strayed down between her thighs, but the pink slit of her pussy was clearly exposed. I was sure I could smell her scent and it made my head spin.
“You’re real nice down there,” I said, realizing I sounded like Georgia. Perhaps her accent was starting to rub off on me.
“You think?”
I nodded. “I do. It’s lovely.”
“I read about how some girls shave down there.”
“All of it?” I said. “Prossies, I bet. They’d have to be.”
“No, girls like you and me. Girls who like other girls. Like we do.”
“How do you know so much, Georgia?”
“Just clever, I guess.” She smiled.
“I don’t want you to shave yours off,” I said. “I like you as you are.”
“Yeah? Okay then, I won’t shave anything off, not unless you ask me to. And I like yours fine too, Lil. Just fine.”
Then Georgia did the same thing as last night. She pushed me onto my back, leaned over and kissed me at the top of my bush, her mouth half on my belly, half on my silky hair. Her hand lay against my leg, high up on my thigh, and I willed her to move higher still. Slowly, very slowly, she did.
I put my hand on Georgia’s bush and stroked it, loving the soft silk of the hair growing there. Her big clitoris was showing, having grown hard, and stuck out above the opening of her pussy. I smelled the aroma of sex coming strongly from her, enchanting me.
I leaned over and kissed her on her belly, went lower, kissing the patch of pubic hair.
“Whoo,” Georgia said, her breath brushing my skin. “That sure feels good.”
I ran my fingers through the silky dark hair at the base of her belly, let them slip down until I pressed against the hard nub of her clitoris and she shivered at my finger’s touch. Georgia touched me too, between my legs, opened me and dipped inside and I closed my eyes as her fingers pressed deeper.
Her face rested against my belly, her lips close to my bush. I turned my head, the plump lips of her labia directly under my gaze, and slid a finger between them. When I drew it back my finger glistened with her wetness. I added a second and pushed both inside. I kissed her belly again, her fine pubic hair against my cheek as I moved a little lower. The scent of her filled my nose, drawing me closer.
My chest fluttered, reflecting my fear and nervousness. I was going to kiss her there. I wanted to, but what would Georgia say? Would I disgust her? I wanted her against my mouth, against my tongue, building my courage to try, but what if she hated me? Her own lips were near my pussy too, but that was only near, not on. Would I disgust her if I kissed her where I wanted to?
“Georgia?” I said.
“What is it, honey?” Her voice was soft, her breath warm against my bush.
I was silent, not knowing how to proceed. Georgia moved and looked at me, looked at my face nestling against her lower belly. As she moved her thighs changed position and I should have done it as she opened herself beneath me.
“What is it, Lil?”
That was when I heard splashing from around the turn in the river.
“Georgia,” I hissed, rolling away. “Someone’s coming.”
“What? Who?”
She jerked away as Michael came around the turn, walking in the water, his trousers wet to the thigh, a cane fishing rod in one hand and two good sized trout hanging off a lanyard in the other.
He caught sight of us, startled, then grinned.
“Hey, girls, what are you doing all the way out here?”
We had hurriedly tugged our dresses down and now sat demure, if lacking knickers, on the bank. I fumbled between us and stuffed our discarded panties into the bottom of the canvas bag. Grass tickled my bum and I hoped neither of us were showing we wore nothing beneath our dresses.
“We’re having a picnic,” Georgia said.
“Any left?” Michael asked, stepping out of the river and climbing the slope toward us.
“I’ve got half a ham and cheese, and Georgia’s hardly started on her beef and mustard. You want to share with us?”
“Good show,” he said, dropping between us, deliberately pushing into the space and making us move apart. “Any tea left?” He shook the flask. “Plenty. Good.”
I glanced behind him at Georgia and she pulled a face, rolling her eyes. The trembling slowly stilled inside me. I had been so close to spoiling everything. Thank goodness Michael came along when he did.
Michael polished off the rest of our sandwiches and then offered to show Georgia how to fly-fish. I watched as he stood behind her in the river, moving her arm, the waxed silk line snaking onto the water. He stood very tight against Georgia and I feared he might notice she wore no panties. His hands seemed to hold her in inappropriate places and I realized I was jealous. What did Georgia think she was up to? Didn’t she know what Michael was doing with her?
Finally the lesson came to an end and they climbed out. I packed the remains of our picnic, pushing the paper bags and flask down over our panties and tying the top down tight.
Michael offered his hand and pulled
me up. He winked at me and grinned.
“Can I escort you two lovely creatures back? And when we get home I want you both to do something for me.”
“What’s that, Mike?” Georgia asked.
No one else had ever called him Mike. Michael or Mikey, but never Mike. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Well, I’ve got my first ops coming up this week. I’ve thought of a great idea to get my reflexes in shape. Come on, I’ll explain as we walk back.”
When we reached the house Georgia turned to Michael and said, “Back in a sec. We just need to freshen up.”
Michael rolled his eyes. It was obvious what he thought. Girls!
In the hallway I pulled Georgia into the pantry and fumbled our panties from the bag. I handed one pair to her, pulled the others on. Georgia made a face, tugged hers back down and we swapped over, giggling.
“Do you think he saw anything?” I whispered.
“Nah. Not a thing.”
“Why were you flirting with him like that?” I said, trying not to let the hurt show in my voice.
“It was a bit of fun, Lil, that’s all. You know it’s you I love,” and she kissed me once, hard, taking my breath away.
“It looked like flirting to me,” I said, a little happier. Her kisses always made me happy, and I realized how quickly I was becoming used to the touch of her lips.
“I like him,” Georgia said. “Not like I like you, but he’s sweet. And I see some of you in him too, I guess.” She leaned close to me and put her hand on my shoulder. We were almost exactly the same height, but any similarity ended there. “When he was showing me how to fish,” she whispered in my ear, “I think he got quite excited.”
“Excited?” I whispered back.
“You know, down below? I felt him pressing it against my butt.”
“Oh, that’s disgusting!” I said.
“Yeah, kind of. But he’s so sweet too.”
“You’re not…” My voice caught. “You’re not gonna… going to let him do anything, are you?”
Georgia laughed. “Of course not. Don’t worry, Lil, I’m all yours, little darling.”
My stomach turned over and I kissed her lightly.
“Let’s go play this game then,” Georgia said.
It was clever of Michael to come up with the idea. Most new pilots were shot down because they didn’t see danger coming. High in the air death came from all directions, above, below, right, left, ahead and behind. It might come from anywhere. His teachers had drilled that into him. Most new pilots stared straight ahead, but that was not where danger lay. It might come from above, perhaps behind your left shoulder, and before you knew what was happening bullets were ripping your plane apart around you.
So Michael gave us tennis balls and stood in the middle of the lawn while we ran around throwing them at him. Every time we hit him he lost. Every time he saw the ball and ducked or caught it was a victory for him, and might mean the difference between life and death when he flew the skies alone.
When we started the game we hit him a lot. On his broad shoulders, the back of his head, balls bouncing off his cheeks. After a half hour Michael managed to dodge more than hit him. After an hour we missed almost every time, even when we threw from right behind him. He stood on one spot, playing by the rules he had invented, feet planted in the grass, upper body and head turning and seeking, leaning and ducking.
We laughed and giggled and when she got bored Georgia started swooping at Michael pretending to be a Messerschmitt and sometimes he tagged her and sometimes she darted away untouched. I watched and after a while joined in, tossing balls at him from close range, slapping him on his arms, ducking to avoid his hands as they came back at me.
I noticed Georgia allowed him to catch her now and then, but I was not jealous any more. I knew what she was doing and loved her even more. In a few days Michael would be in the air fighting for his life. He might never come back from his first flight, and if he did the fear would gnaw at his belly until the next time. He knew, we all knew, exactly what might happen.
So Georgia let him catch her, let him accidentally brush against her full breasts, accidentally touch her rounded backside. And I found myself joining in too, my heart hammering when Michael caught me the first time and his hand slid across my shoulder before skirting around my breasts. With Georgia he wasn’t quite so gentlemanly, unless hers were simply more difficult to avoid.
He laughed as though it meant nothing, and I laughed back, excited and scared.
“Enough,” Michael said at last. Sweat poured from his face, and I’m sure Georgia and I were as hot. He sat on the grass with his legs stretched out, leaning on one elbow.
Georgia wanted to play some more and continued tagging me. I glanced at Michael, relaxing on the grass, lighting up a cigarette, smiling as he watched us as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
We darted and bumped, slid and slapped. Georgia caught my hand and swung me around. My feet left the grass and I tumbled over. My dress rose and flashed my legs and I didn’t care. I ran at Georgia, saw where she wanted to grab me and ducked, caught her around the waist and tipped her over my feet. She landed on her back, her legs above her head, white panties flashing as she continued to roll.
I felt her grab my breast the next time she caught me. I twisted away, slid behind her and grabbed both of hers, pulled her back and then ducked aside so she landed on her backside, her breath rushing out.
I heard Michael laugh, watching us, happy.
We were both sweating and I doubted if enough hot water remained for another bath tonight and didn’t care. Sweaty or not, Georgia was wonderful; Georgia was mine.
Finally we slowed, stopped, and fell onto the grass. Georgia allowed Michael to look up her dress a moment longer before tugging the hem down.
Michael glanced at his watch, a Swiss model all the pilots wore.
“It’s nearly dinner time. You two had better get cleaned up. I’ll see you back downstairs.”
He bounced up and strode across the grass. I saw Georgia watch him go. She caught my look and grinned.
“If I did like men, Lil,” she said, “I think I might let him fuck me.”
“Georgia!” I gasped.
“Don’t worry, honey, it ain’t gonna happen. I’m just saying. He’s a doll, your brother, if a girl went for that kind of thing. But it’s his sister I’m after.”
I grinned foolishly and got up.
After dinner we sat in the living room until late. Daddy brought a crate of cider from the cellar and put the bottles in the pantry to keep cool. Tomorrow Georgia and I would catch the train south. Michael was traveling east, returning to Suffolk for his first active posting. Daddy knew this was our last evening together for a while, maybe forever. We all drank too much cider and at ten o’clock Daddy said he was going to bed while he still could. We heard him and Mummy laughing as they climbed the stairs.
Michael got up and brought another bottle of cider back, filled his glass and waved the bottle at us. We both held our glasses out. I knew I had drunk more than was good for me, too much to care.
Michael sprawled across the Chesterfield, dressed in slacks and a white shirt with two buttons undone. He had slipped his shoes off and showed a hole in his right sock over the big toe. Georgia and I sat together on the other sofa. Georgia sat close to me and her hand searched for mine.
I saw Michael glance down as our fingers linked and he smiled.
“I suppose that means I’m sleeping on my own tonight,” he said, laughter softening his voice. “I’d already guessed as much.”
“What did you guess, Mike?” I asked, my voice slurring a little, using Georgia’s name for him.
“I know you’ve never had a boyfriend, Nutkin. I think I’ve always guessed what you were.”
I looked at him. “What’s that, Michael?” My voice was firmer now, and I was a little angry. What gave him the right to pass judgment on me?
He held up his hands. “Hey. Settle down, sis. It
’s fine. I’m not saying anything’s wrong… There are a few girls in the WAAFs like you and Georgia. It doesn’t make them bad people. Not at all.”
“Really?” Georgia said, leaning forward. “And what do people think of them?”
“The girls?”
“Yeah, the girls.”
Michael shrugged and drained his glass, reached over for the bottle and topped it up.
“Some of the chaps, you know, they laugh about them. But I think they’re scared, and a little jealous. They don’t understand. There’s a war on, Georgia, nobody cares what people do. Take love wherever you find it, with whoever you can find it with. And besides, there are plenty of other girls left for the rest of us.”
Georgia sat back and snuggled against me.
“Are there many of these girls? The ones you mean?” she asked.
Michael laughed. “What, are you going to put in for a transfer?”
“No,” Georgia said. “I’ve already found the girl I want.”
Michael looked from her to me and smiled. He thumbed a cigarette from his pack, struck a match. “Good for you. I’m happy for you both. Do you feel the same way about Georgia, sis?”
I nodded, my anger washed away completely by the words Georgia had spoken.
“Good,” he said, and I don’t think I ever loved my brother more than at that moment.
“What about you, Mike?” Georgia asked. “Do you like boys or girls.”
“What do you think, Georgia?” he smiled.
“Girls, I think.”
He nodded. “Girls. Right on the button.”
“I’m sorry I teased you, Mike,” Georgia said. “I know I wasn’t being fair acting the way I did when there was no payoff coming.”
“No problem. In fact I rather enjoyed myself. I knew you were only play acting. I guessed as much last night. Confirmed my suspicions when I saw you two at the river.”
“The river?” I said.
Michael nodded, suppressing a grin.
“What do you mean?” Georgia said.
“You think I didn’t see what you were stuffing in the bottom of that picnic bag, sis?”