Georgia's English Rose

by JT Harding

  My face flushed bright red. I glanced across at Georgia but she sat calmly watching Michael.

  “I guess we need to be more careful,” she said.

  Michael grinned and stubbed his cigarette out. “Don’t worry on my behalf. Well, I’d better get up to bed. Early start in the morning. Don’t want to keep Mr Hitler waiting. I expect you two are tired as well.”

  When he was gone Georgia turned and hugged me against her, held my face and kissed me.

  “You okay he knows about us, Lil?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Then let’s go up to bed before my pussy melts completely. I need you to give me some urgent attention, honey.”

  I nodded and bit my lip. “Yes please, Georgia.”

  We didn’t bother brushing our teeth or washing or making a pretense at putting our nightclothes on. I closed the door and flicked the inside lock across, reached back and slid down the zipper on my dress, unclipped my bra but made no move to undress further. Georgia opened the curtain so moonlight filled the room. She came to me and pulled my dress over my shoulders where it hung loose. My bra was somewhere around my waist and she smiled and let it drop onto the floor, then went on her knees and drew my panties down until they pooled around my ankles and I stepped from them. She stayed on her knees once I was naked, leaned in and kissed my hip, her lips brushing against me. Then she moved and kissed my belly, kissed my patch of pubic hair before standing.

  She waited while I removed her clothes and then we lay on top of the bed. My hands found her breasts and played with them. My lips found her nipples and tugged on them. Georgia fought back, pushing me away so she could kiss my breasts, kiss my mouth.

  “I was planning to make you come by the river,” she said.

  “I was hoping you were.” I laughed softly. “I wanted to make you come too.” How I had changed in so short a time! The words we used between us, the actions we performed, all seemed so natural and comfortable now. We had no secrets, no part of our bodies so private they could not be shared.

  “I’ve been horny for so long I thought I might go mad,” she said, rolling onto her back. “You wanna do me, Lil?” She stared into my eyes.

  “More than anything in the world,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, but the word didn’t sound anything like the same coming from my lips instead of Georgia’s.

  “Like you nearly did by the river?” she said, and realization washed through me she knew completely what I had wanted to do, wanted me to. Relief filled me.

  “You really want me to do that, Georgia?”

  “More than anything in the world,” she said, handing my own words back.

  I kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck. I pushed my fingers through her thick hair and sat astride her while her hands found my pussy and opened me to her fingers. Then I pulled away, not ready to come yet and I kissed her wonderful breasts, licked their undersides where they met her belly, caught her nipples in my teeth and pulled on them.

  I kissed down her belly, slowly, teasing out the time and she held my hair and pulled my head to one side and I kissed her hip, and when she let me loose moved on down. I lay between her legs, stroking the underside of her knee, and kissed her navel and moved on down. I touched the hard pencil tip of her clitoris with my thumb and she drew a sharp breath. I moved down and kissed the line where her bush met her belly.

  “I love you more than life, Lil,” she said clearly, and hot emotion welled inside me.

  I licked her soft bush and moved down. My tongue flickered and touched her clitoris and she gasped. I closed my lips and sucked the nub inside, rolled my tongue and Georgia lifted her legs until her thighs pressed against my cheeks. I slid my hand along her leg and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, but I was only teasing and we both knew it.

  I moved down and kissed the inside of her thigh and my nose brushed the slit between her full labia and I breathed in deeply, drawing the wonderful aroma of her sex into my lungs. I kissed the inside of her other thigh, but we both knew what we wanted next and neither of us were willing to wait a moment longer.

  Georgia opened her legs wide and I settled between them, my mouth an inch from her slit. I poked out my tongue and moved forward and touched her where I had wanted to touch her all day. I ran my tongue along the slit of her pussy and she cried out, pushing her fist against her mouth to hold back the cry.

  I put my lips against her labia and sucked on them.

  I opened her slit with my tongue and probed inside, tasting for the first time in my young life the rich, wonderful taste of another woman.

  Georgia rocked against me, and I wondered how it felt to have my tongue explore inside her pussy, wondered if I might find out for myself soon. I slid my hand between my own legs and slipped my fingers inside to discover I was wetter than I had ever been.

  “Don’t do yourself yet,” Georgia said, her voice husky but clear. “That’s my job when you’ve finished with me. I want to do this to you, Lil. I want to do this so much.”

  I left my fingers inside myself but stopped moving them.

  I sucked on Georgia’s fat clitoris again and she groaned. I opened her pussy lips with my tongue and probed far inside and she yelped. I began to discover what worked and did more of that, licking between her labia, my hand reaching to her clitoris and rubbing and pulling. I kissed her pussy like I kissed her mouth and sweet nectar flowed from her onto my tongue, and all I could taste, all I wanted to taste, was Georgia.

  She pumped steadily against my lips, her body undulating as I pleasured her and she took her pleasure against my mouth, her breath coming faster. I took my fingers from my own pussy and reached for her breasts, smearing slippery juice across her nipples.

  “Oh Lil, that’s gonna do it honey,” she gasped. She shook hard beneath me. I fought to keep my tongue inside her, fought to keep my lips pressed to her pussy as she bucked and trembled. Georgia cried out loudly but neither of us cared as she peaked under my lips. Something warm and wet splashed into my mouth and I realized it was Georgia and for a moment I thought she had wet herself but then discovered the taste was sweet. It was something else. She had squirted something into my mouth, and I kissed where she had splashed, licked my tongue inside her, pulled on her clitoris and she jerked again, clutching the back of my head and pushing me hard against her.

  When she finally let go I wriggled along her body, kissing all the way until I reached her mouth then kissing her there.

  “Mm, is that what I taste like?” she asked, licking her tongue across my lips.

  “I suppose it must be,” I said.

  “Not bad,” she said. “But I bet you taste even better.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I’m gonna find out,” she said, pushing me away and rolling me onto my back.

  Instead of lying between my legs she moved down head first, playing with my breasts, teasing my belly, but she took less time reaching her target than I had and I lay back, my hands on the round cheeks of her backside as her tongue found the spot between my legs and opened me up.

  “Is this how it feels for you, Georgia?” I asked.

  She lifted her head a little, “How’s it feel, honey?”

  “Unbelievable. More than anything else ever.”

  “Yup, that’s how it feels,” she said, and went back to demonstrating.

  Her tongue flickered and teased, and when she sucked my clitoris between her lips I nearly died of ecstasy. She pushed her fingers inside me and used her tongue as well, her spit wetting me even more than I already was and I slid my hands off the round cheeks of her backside and pushed three fingers deep inside her slit, working them in and out fast and she gasped and lifted her head.

  “You’re gonna tip me over again if you keep doing that, Lil.”

  “Good,” I said. I grabbed her buttocks again and pulled her over, lifted her leg and sat her against my mouth, wanting more of her, always more.

  “Oh sweet Jesus,”
she said. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  Her tongue returned to me, my tongue slipped inside her, and it felt as if I was doing Georgia, as if I was doing myself, everything confused and wonderful, her big titties pressed against my belly, her round backside under my hands, my tongue probing inside her, Georgia’s tongue deep inside me and I knew I was going over hard as the fire inside me bloomed and spread to an inferno.

  I cried out, my voice muffled in Georgia’s pussy and she jerked and I knew we were peaking together, Georgia coming so fast again and I bucked against her, wanting her to do anything she wanted, everything she wanted, wanting to invade her anywhere I could and when my climax arrived I knew I was doing what Georgia had as I squirted against her mouth, the rush erupting from my core to my pussy and the world swam and faded away and I returned only slowly, to the taste of Georgia on my lips and tongue.

  The next afternoon we returned to the War, sleeping all the way back on the train, our bodies aching deliciously from the love we made all night long. I experienced a moment’s guilt when Mummy brought us tea and biscuits at eight. By then we had dressed in our nightclothes again, but the scent of sex lay thick in the room and I knew Mummy had to smell us, had to know what the aroma meant. She placed the tray on the box at the foot of the bed and stood a moment smiling at us, indulgent and a little wistful.

  Three weeks later I received a letter from Michael. He was still alive, he told me, and I read his words to Georgia in our tiny room. There were things he couldn’t say, and some lines had been blacked out, but I got the message he was getting the hang of this flying and a few Nazis had found out the hard way. Georgia and I grinned at each other, sitting side by side on her bed, the one we slept in most nights until we had satisfied each other.

  The months turned into years. The fighting grew worse, the mood darker.

  As the fighting progressed priorities changed and just before Christmas 1942 Georgia and I received a transfer to Bletchley Park, where teams of mathematicians and scientists broke German and Japanese codes. A group of genius boffins invented the world’s first computer there—not that we called it a computer then, not that many people even knew of its existence. We were both surprised to be assigned the same posting. Things weren’t meant to happen that way, but I believe someone knew exactly what we were, someone who sympathized. We came across women now and again, recognizing kindred spirits, some secret passing unspoken among our kind.

  At Bletchley we lived offsite, sharing a small room in a house where other scientists lodged. Our room was too small for two single beds so we were told we had to share a small double. Life was far more innocent back then, and we both tried to look suitably disappointed.

  We saw Michael one more time during the war when we all managed to get a weekend pass at the same time. He looked older, with more lines on his face, something hard in his eyes. He was no longer my carefree big brother but I loved him just the same.

  Every month felt like hell until that day in May 1945 when the flags came out and Georgia and I sat back home with my parents and Michael. A scar ran down out of the flop of hair above his left eye, a result, he told us, of getting a little too close to a Stuka one day, laughing the encounter off. He looked even older now, but also more handsome, Georgia said. He was my big brother so I wasn’t much of a judge.

  Georgia and I were released early from service. With the fighting over men wanted their jobs back and many of the women who had done their work were sent home. Georgia wanted to return home too, to take up her place at college now she had the chance. I considered taking my deferred place at Cambridge but knew I couldn’t bring myself to part from her.

  In August of that year we traveled by ship back to America, which became our home.

  Georgia went to CalTech. I applied too and a year later joined her. We studied hard. Georgia landed a job in electronics, and after graduating I followed her. In 1957 I was offered a teaching job back at CalTech, and three years later given tenure. Math and electronics were the new thing, and Georgia and I the female gurus of the subject.

  We bought a small house on the beach north of Santa Monica, scaring ourselves silly over how much we paid in 1958, and now we laugh about how little that was, laugh even harder over how much the place is worth now.

  Michael stayed in the RAF training other pilots. When he left in the late fifties he joined what eventually became British Airways. Now and again his schedule brings him to the West Coast and he always comes to stay with us. Georgia teases him mercilessly, and even though he is married with two beautiful children he teases her back.

  We were a little old for the sixties but still enjoyed the decade. Later on I burned my bra, but Georgia said that although she was completely in agreement with the sentiment, the world would be far too dangerous a place if she let her boobies swing free, so if no-one minded she was going to keep hers on.

  We experimented a little with both drugs and lovers. Even though it was frowned on, many girls passing through college came out west confused about who and what they were. Georgia and I remained constantly faithful to each other, but every now and again a third, even a fourth was invited in for a while before moving on. For the last twenty years it has been only Georgia and me. We are more than enough for each other.

  We still make love, but not as often as we once did. It used to be several times a day during the war, every snatched opportunity we found, later every spare moment in college. Now we have slowed to once or twice a week. But we never stop kissing. Ever. Every chance we get.

  Georgia came in and found me at the computer writing this story and asked what I was doing. When I told her she wanted to read it so I printed a copy and handed her the pages. She curled up on our sofa overlooking the ocean and read it through without a break. The sunlight came bright through our windows, filled with the reflection of the ocean, and I noticed how Georgia’s hair is no longer the jet black it used to be, and that we both have lines on our faces now. But it doesn’t matter at all. Character, Georgia calls it. Proof of our love, I say.

  I made coffee, went for a walk along the beach and stopped at the deli on the corner and brought pastries back.

  Georgia turned the last page over and looked up at me.

  “Do you really love me as much as that, Lil?” Her eyes glittered.

  I nodded and smiled. “You know I do, honey.”

  I sound exactly like her now, and no one who meets us would ever know I was once Georgia’s English Rose.