by Limey Lady
Well trust me; if you like girls to any degree at all, you would have liked her.
And then she unfastened her bra and let loose those humungous tits!
Flipping heck, I’d never seen a sight like it.
As if that wasn’t enough, she continued to dance and vigorously gyrate her body, letting those two miracles of nature bounce this way and that.
If I hadn’t been in lust before that moment the sight of those bouncing beauties sealed the deal.
Crikey, didn’t I want her!
My hands were shaking as I replied to sender.
“Bethany, that is the best clip ever, ever, ever. I can’t begin to describe what it did to me.”
She came back with:
“Give me your phone number. We can discuss it tonight; late on tonight.”
It was a Thursday and I had no date. I was dimly aware that Bethany probably knew that. I was also aware that speaking to her would be a mistake. But stuff being sensible; stuff being responsible. I had another look at those tits of hers and fired off my number.
“I’ll be home around ten,” I advised her. “Ring me at half past?”
“On the dot,” she responded, “I know you’re into punctuality.”
*****
I won’t give details about our first session of phone sex (the first of many!), but I do have to mention Bethany’s voice. Now I knew she was a white girl with close-cropped blue and purple hair, but I had never expected her voice to be so . . . so wonderful.
Believe you me; she sounded like Aretha Franklin. Two words from her and I’d wet my panties. She was as sexy as that. And the very thought of her whispering sweet nothings into my ear . . .
Put it this way: if she’d operated one of those online sex services, she’d have been able to retire after a single night. Men, women . . . they would have thrown billions at her. God only knew what she’d be like at karaoke.
(She did, incidentally, tell me later she couldn’t sing a note; I told her not to worry; that she could just talk her way through all the songs, assuring her nobody would mind.)
Afterwards, after we’d phone-sexed ourselves to Heaven and back, I suggested we met up in person. She said her situation with Stan was “delicate” and perhaps we should wait a while. Not forever, she added, but “a while”. In the meantime the telephone connection seemed to be working okay . . .
So we were mobile lovers for seven weeks and it was great. Thursday and Sunday nights; that was us, together with all sorts of texts and emails in-between.
At this point I’m going to assume you deem me to be a whore. Or a slut, a harlot or whatever the term is these days. I’m not going to deny that. All I’ll say in my defence is that I was young, free and single. As far as I could tell, men in that position went out and shagged as many willing women as they could without being tarred for it.
So why couldn’t I?
Face it, men in that position were often admired and called “swordsmen” and juvenile crap like that. I had very similar tastes to them so why couldn’t I go out and be admired for doing the same?
Anyway, they were happy days for me back then. I had real, all-in sex five nights a week and Bethany to talk to on the other two. And I won’t deny it; I liked jumping from one woman’s arms into another’s, even if sometimes it was a virtual jump. I’ve always got off on variety and probably always will. Way I saw life that autumn was simple: no promises had been made so we were free to enjoy ourselves and nobody could get hurt.
But then Christmas came along and it was all change again.
*****
It was another Monday morning, a fortnight before the festivities officially began. My night classes finished on the coming Friday and there was already an end-of-term feeling in the air, palpable even to nerdy IT techies. Workwise, I had just responded to what was probably the last of my Jerry Mouse callouts. Sad to report, the cable that time had come out of its socket and wasn’t gnawed at all. Jerry, who’d been conspicuous by his absence for a while, had not resurfaced.
(In my imagination Jerry was always a boy mouse. When he went AWOL for good I sincerely hoped he had found a nice girl mouse and settled down. I know that might contrast with my own lifestyle but that’s genuinely what I wanted for him. The idea of him fathering a family of baby mice, teaching them all how to gnaw through plastic and wire. . . Well that didn’t come into the equation. Honest!)
I quickly plugged the cable back in, made sure the user could access her systems and then grabbed a coffee on the way back to my desk.
The NHS email was there on my PC, waiting for me. It was short and sweet and said:
“Ladies, check your personal email RIGHT NOW.”
The message had been sent to Stan as well as me; we were obviously the “ladies” in question. I got out my mobile and, after checking for snoops, swiftly logged in. Sure enough, there was a recent one from Bethany headed “Crimbo Present For Me”.
Underneath it read:
“Venue: Stan’s bedroom tonight (after your classes). Activity: Dave to fuck Stan with that big dildo she is reputed to use so well. Audience: Just little me. Be there or be square.”
Bethany had touched on wanting to watch me bonking Stan during our late night chats. I wasn’t so sure about it but had played along with her (it was that sexy voice of hers; I would‘ve played along with just about anything it suggested). Now, faced with the possibility of that sort of thing happening for real . . .
Well, I was less sure than ever. Fortunately Stan’s response landed before I could say anything silly and wreck the possibilities. It was addressed to me, copied to Bethany and merely said:
“I dare if you dare.”
A thousand emotions raced through my head. Logical Dave couldn’t cope with them; she abdicated all responsibility. Fervent Dave clapped her hands and urged me to go for it. It’s the chance of a lifetime, she reasoned, be there or be square.
Gulping, I replied with just one word:
“Okay.”
Chapter Forty
Stan drove me to her place (it was a big old house in Ilkley, divided up into flats) and we went inside, trying to act casually. Bethany was already there, waiting for us in Stan’s kitchen. It was good to finally meet her in the flesh and wow, did I appreciate the uniform she was wearing.
‘I’ve just finished the shift from Hell,’ she said before grabbing me in a bear hug and giving me a true lovers’ kiss.
Perhaps five minutes later she broke for air and grinned at me. ‘Okay Dave, show me how it really should be done.’
‘Grab yourself a chair,’ said Stan, pointing to the ones sited around her butcher’s block and taking me by the hand. ‘The bedroom’s through here.’
Believe it or not that was my one and only visit to Stan’s. Maybe it was the circumstances but I didn’t take in very much of our surroundings. Not that I was given the grand tour or anything. In a matter of moments we were in her room and standing by a small double bed.
Without speaking, Bethany put her chair in a corner and sat on it, looking at us expectantly.
Remembering what we’d agreed in the car, I embraced Stan and we gradually got naked while still standing, taking our time about it and gratuitously groping each other. Then I feasted on her tits for a while until she threw me onto the bed and ate me.
Up until that moment I’d done my best to put Bethany out of my mind; I couldn’t see her therefore she wasn’t there . . . it was a pretence I almost managed to maintain. But flat on my back I was suddenly staring right at her; it was impossible to pretend she was somewhere else.
She smiled at me but otherwise said and did nothing. I’d sort of expected her to be masturbating, the way audiences masturbate in porn videos, but she wasn’t. No, he was just watching in rapt interest.
Skipping through a lot of Stan-on-me action; I at last donned my harness and took her vigorously with my favourite glass beaded toy (both specially brought along for that very purpose). And if I do say it myself, I excelled. Wi
thin seconds she was moaning and groaning, wriggling and writhing; begging and yelling and squealing. And cumming; it was another of those instances when statistics were incalculable. I do not know how long or how many. All I can honestly swear is that her last climax was utterly colossal.
And so were several of mine.
Then, her breath still coming in mighty gasps, Stan looked me in the eye.
‘Bethany,’ she said. ‘Come on, Kiki Girl; give it to Bethany, right now.’
That came as a bit of a surprise. Our en route agreement had been to keep the sex between the two of us. In fact I’d got the clear impression Stan didn’t want me anywhere near Bethany. She’d certainly scowled at the intensity of our greeting kiss.
Before I could comment Stan had pushed me off and was on her feet. ‘Come on Beth,’ she said, ‘strip for my Kiki Girl.’
Bethany got up from her chair and elaborately gestured for Stan to replace her. I half-expected her to do her party striptease but she didn’t. Instead she just started to unbutton her blouse-like tunic, eying me all the while.
‘Do you like my titties?’ she asked as she carelessly tossed her top away.
I didn’t just like them, I was mesmerized by them; so much so I could only nod and wonder how her relatively flimsy bra could cope with beauties like that. Then she discarded her skirt to reveal black stockings and suspenders.
‘You get to choose from here,’ she said. ‘I’ll take off or leave on whatever you want. You only have to say.’
‘Bra off,’ I croaked. Then, shaking my head in wonderment, ‘Knickers off too, and we’ll leave it at that.’
You’ve probably guessed my idea of foreplay involved her chest. I could have played with it all night but, eventually, Bethany pulled me into an approximation of the missionary position.
‘Give me what you gave Stan,’ she commanded. ‘Give me all you’ve got.’
Determined to excel once more, trying not to dwell on how pleasant it was being in possession of her lovely, overly plump body, I began. And, in my determination, I regressed into nerd mode.
That dildo had five regular beads and a supersized one, remember? I had the supersized one against my groin and initially used only the first regular bead on Bethany, putting it in and pulling it all the way out no less than fifty times. Then I used two beads on her, not completely pulling the first out, only the second. After fifty of those I progressed to three beads . . .
And didn’t she holler at that! Three beads certainly found the spot for her. She appreciated them so much I gave her a double dose of a hundred.
Well I’m sure you get the general idea. I gave her another fifty each of four and then five beads before grinning down into her face, deeply inside her, my narrow hips on her much wider ones, my flat chest on her humungous boobies.
‘Long and slow,’ I enquired, recalling her telephone confessions.
‘Fuck me,’ she replied, grabbing my buns and digging her ankles into the mattress before thrusting up at me, as if attempting to force my dildo in even deeper. ‘Make it long, slow and as hard as you can.’
It would have been rude to decline.
*****
Stan joined us on the bed at God knows what hour in the early morning. She purposefully removed my harness and, for a fleeting second, I wondered what I was in for. There I was, alone in a strange house with a couple of strong, well-built women who I’d just taken and taken and taken. Cards on the table, it did occur to me that I was outnumbered and they could do to me anything they wanted.
Then I reminded myself those women were my friends who wouldn’t do me harm. And I accepted that I deserved to be submissive in my turn. It followed that I shouldn’t try to resist and anything they might choose to do should be enjoyed.
We’re adults, I told myself, and we’re playing adult games.
Stan pushed me onto my back, scowling as ever. I grinned and nodded at her.
Omigod but I was excited.
If ever there was a time to lay back and think of England . . .
‘Let’s take her,’ Stan growled, ‘you first.’
‘Oh no,’ said Bethany, ‘after you.’
Banter aside, I soon started to suspect my lovers had played games like this before. And they didn’t eff me, not at first. No, to start with they made love to me, working very much as a team. Beginning with a (non-existent) tit each, they brought me off with dual nipple-play. Then Stan headed south while Bethany kissed and nibbled and licked my neck and (incredibly erotically) my armpits.
Then Bethany headed south while Stan made the trip north. And on they went; on and on and on. No denying it, they took me to Nirvana and kept me there for aeons. The feel of their lips and fingers and tongues on and in me! The almost constant brushing of their legs against mine and, of course, best of all their tits sliding over every bit of my body!
The conclusion was nothing if not spectacular. After ages of teasing Stan donned the strap-on and took me in the pussy from behind. Bethany, meanwhile, went down on me and used her tongue on my clit, being very direct about it, selecting a different rhythm to Stan, making my body think I was due to cum in two opposite directions!
Or maybe four or six!!
And imminently at that!!!
Talk about astral planes and states of bliss; if Stan’s earlier climax was colossal, my final conclusion had to be mega-titanic . . .
Chapter Forty-One
When the alarm woke us I was in a sandwich, with Stan facing me and Bethany cuddling up from behind. That made me frown; last I remembered they were the other way around.
Did they switch places and do me while I was flaked out, I wondered, grinning. I wouldn’t have minded if they did, I’d just be sorry I missed more of the fun.
‘Fucking Tuesday morning meetings,’ Stan growled, bashing her clock to stop it ringing.
She got out of bed and beckoned to me. ‘If you want a lift back to Skipton you’ll have to get up now, at this ungodly hour.’
Bethany cuddled me tighter. ‘She’s staying here with me a while. You go sort yourself out.’
Stan stomped off. Two minutes later a toilet flushed and we could hear a shower start to spray.
‘What time do you need to be at work,’ that incredibly sexy voice said from close to my ear.
I shivered deliciously. ‘One thirty. I took the morning off, just in case.’
‘Brilliant. Don’t say anything to Stan. Leave her to me and I’ll get you there five minutes early, at least.’
Her hand was between my legs. She was obviously more of a morning person than her regular lover and ready to resume playtime. I quite happily let her play, shocked and thrilled when our host came back into the room and she didn’t stop.
How naughty was that! Two of Bethany’s fingers were in my vagina and Stan was ignoring us as she moodily got dressed. Believe me, although all the action was out of sight under the covers, I felt guilty as heck. It seemed more mischievous that bonking in front of an audience of one. I can’t explain why, but being furtively fingered seemed to be beyond wicked.
Heck, when we were alone together Ellie liked to lie close and watch me masturbating; this was even wickeder than that!
‘Cum for me,’ Bethany whispered.
I valiantly tried not to. Her hand cunningly stepped up the pace.
Her husky whisper became even more pleading . . .
Stan, meanwhile, had put on a crisp white shirt and a very masculine three piece suit. ‘How do I look?’ she asked, apparently not noticing my brick-red face and breathless gasps.
‘You’re looking good,’ I said as articulately as I could.
‘You look more like a bank robber than an assistant manager,’ Bethany said, ‘but hot with it. If they do ever remake Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels . . .’
‘How are you getting to work without a lift?’ Stan asked me . . . well, demanded of me.
‘I’m taking her,’ Bethany replied. ‘And don’t worry; we’ll put your bedding in the wash befo
re we go.’
‘Okay, so I’ll see you tonight,’ said Stan. Then, nodding to me, ‘And I’ll see you in class tomorrow.’
I contained myself until I heard doors slam and a car engine start; then, dismissing mega-titanic as too feeble and squib-like, I finished giga-titanic.
*****
I’d been unsure exactly when and how I would be getting home so I’d brought an overnight bag (one that was ideal for carrying a change of clothes and the odd toy or two). After a very enjoyable morning between the sheets I showered with Bethany and then dressed. She nipped off to her place in search of “a few uniform spare parts” then we remade Stan’s bed, set her washer going and locked the front door behind us.