by Limey Lady
‘You haven’t asked the sixty-four thousand dollar question.’
‘Tell me what it is and I’ll ask.’
Charlie laughed yet again. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘about who does what. I’m guessing you’re butch but not stone. Am I right?’
Angie understood butch but hadn’t a clue about stone. Fortunately she hazarded a correct answer.
‘I usually go with the flow; equal shares and all that.’
‘That sounds good to me. Are you coming to my place, then?’
‘Okay, why not.’
*****
Charlie’s place was about ten minutes’ walk from the Union. She’d called it a “house” but in fact it was one floor of a three-story terraced affair. Situated at the top of the building, she had a lounge, kitchen and bedroom, all on a miniature scale.
Angie didn’t take much notice of the lounge or kitchen. She didn’t waste much time wondering about the wisdom of going off with a stranger, either. No, first night away from home, she didn’t stop to consider the possibility of walking into the lair of a murderous madwoman.
Perhaps her subconscious judgment was solid. Or perhaps she was bloody lucky. Whatever, Charlie was no serial killer. Her motivations matched Angie’s to a T.
That first kiss was awesome. There in the bedroom with the lights out, their hands busy on bodies, mouths hungry, their tongues quaintly cautious. Charlie’s curves were stupendous. Angie explored them while enjoying the feel of alien fingers on her ass . . . and on her tits and curves she didn’t really have.
The passion build-up was beyond belief. Angie was as per always in jeans and could feel her juice as it soaked into the denim. The harder she kissed, the harder Charlie kissed back. And talk about racing heartbeats! Her chest was on the verge of explosion.
Without pausing for thought, she gripped the hem of Charlie’s sweatshirt. Charlie temporarily stopped kissing and raised her arms, letting the garment be pulled up, off, and tossed away. Her bra protected her tits but not for long. Within three seconds it had been tossed after her sweat.
Kissing her swollen nipples was not an ordeal. Angie could have licked, nuzzled and nibbled for ages. But suddenly Charlie’s hands were on Angie’s hem. She obligingly threw up her hands and her sweat was off as well, unleashing her prized, bra-less assets.
She squealed when Charlie sucked on them. It was a girlish thing to do but who cared. Not her, not at a moment like that.
At a moment like that who cared about anything but there and then?
Kissing with ever-rising ardour, they somehow wound up on the bed, tits rubbing together, trembling hands fumbling with zips and buttons. Angie won that race. While Charlie still fumbled on she slid her hand under pantie elastic, encountering a tiny patch of trimmed hair, a wet pussy and, unless she was very much mistaken, a vertical clit piercing.
Then Charlie’s hand was in Angie’s panties and, barely able to see each other in the darkened room, they were nose to nose.
‘Together,’ Charlie gasped. ‘Let’s do us together.’
Angie wasn’t sure about the grammar but got the intent straightaway.
‘Equals,’ she gasped back, ‘let’s do it.’
*****
The next few hours passed in a flurry of lips, fingers and tongues. Angie probably did most of the work but she certainly wasn’t complaining. She got off on pleasuring her lovers and Charlie very clearly got off on being pleasured. For all the “equal shares” gobbledygook, she definitely wasn’t averse to being fucked.
And fucking her was great fun. Angie could have done it forever. She only took a timeout because it was insisted on.
‘So,’ said Charlie, side by side with her on the now thoroughly-christened bed, ‘tell me about all these girlfriends of yours.’
‘I only had five,’
‘How old are you?’
‘I’m nineteen at the end of the month.’
‘And you’ve already had five lovers!’
‘I’ve had six, if you include guys.’
‘Were they all one-night stands?’
‘No, they were all regular lovers, even the guy . . . although he did fall by the wayside early on. I kept seeing the rest of them right up until Thursday.’
‘Hang on; are you saying you had five lovers on the go, all at once?’
‘Yes I am. My social diary was quite full. But I got quite adept at juggling my dates around.’
‘Frigging hell, Angie, you weren’t joking about being experienced, were you?’
‘I’m sure you’ve had more than me.’
Charlie chuckled and tenderly stroked Angie’s bum. ‘I’m older and wiser than you, so I’ll take that as a compliment, not an accusation. And I want to know more.’
So, with-holding names to protect the guilty, Angie ran her through her five females to date.
‘Two turned straight girls,’ Charlie summarized, ‘an older woman and a lesbian couple, sometimes in a three, sometimes individually. Take it from me, girl, you’re going to set records at this uni. And why oh why didn’t I go to your school!’
‘You’ve either got it or you haven’t,’ Angie said smugly. ‘Are you ready for more?’
Chapter Four
After spending Saturday morning messing about in bed Charlie suggested the Union Bar.
‘Cheese baguettes and Marston’s,’ she said. ‘That’s what we need. There won’t be many of my crowd there, but I want to show you off. In fact it’s essential we’re seen. When some budding author documents the Society’s history I want to go down as your lover numero uno.’
‘You do,’ Angie laughed. ‘You do go down like lover numero uno.’
The Union wasn’t quite so busy that lunchtime but then again, they were among the first to arrive. Met with the sound of Mike Jagger painting red doors black, Angie thought the place was even better than ever.
‘Two Marston’s,’ Charlie said to the barman, ‘and stop staring at my girlfriend’s tits.’
‘It’s a free world,’ he countered. ‘And she shouldn’t put them in the shop window if she doesn’t want me to stare.’
‘Fair point,’ Angie said diplomatically.
‘This tends to be our area,’ Charlie announced as they took a table to the left of the bar. ‘This corner is where we lezzies congregate. Some even call it Lesbians’ Corner. It’s not reserved or anything; it’s just the way it is. If you’re ever short of a date, this is the area to prowl. There again, with your record of turning straights, it doesn’t really matter where you prowl, does it?’
‘I wish I hadn’t told you that.’
‘Too late lover, you have.’
They eyed each other comfortably as they swigged beer.
‘You don’t know how to classify yourself, do you?’ Charlie said finally.
‘I didn’t know I had to classify myself.’
‘Well you don’t have to, obviously. Nobody has to classify herself. But a lot of freshers do seem to feel the need. I guess they’re the ones without your vast experience.’
Angie rolled her eyes and said nothing.
‘There’s a broader range of types of lesbian than there is in any other sexual group,’ Charlie said, as if beginning a lecture.
Meanwhile Angie had made eye contact across the bar. Well, eye-body contact. And dead knockout or what! The girl she was looking at was stacked. She had long, curly black hair, a dynamite figure and an oval face with a nose that would have seemed witchy on anyone else. Not on her though. That girl reeked of sex and was staring at Angie as if she was her favourite delicacy.
‘Omigod,’ Angie breathed, ‘have you ever had one of those moments?’
‘Oh fuck,’ said Charlie, ‘it’s her.’
The vision of perfection strutted across the bar towards them. Appropriately (or rather, not!!!) the juke box began to play Like a Virgin.
Like fucking yes please, Angie thought, momentarily forgetting about Charlie.
‘My, my, Charlotte,’ the vision said, her attention fixed on An
gie. ‘Aren’t you the greedy one, keeping a treasure like this all to yourself?’
‘Eff off Sarah-Jayne,’ said Charlie. ‘I saw her first.’
‘So who is she?’ Sarah-Jayne went on. ‘And where’s Ruby?’
Charlie choked a moment before replying. ‘Sarah-Jayne, meet Angie, here for Freshers’ Week. Angie, this is Sarah-Jayne with a Y and a hyphen. She’s here for anything she can get.’
The suggestion that Sarah-Jayne was some sort of predator didn’t exactly deter Angie. ‘Meetcha,’ she said.
‘Delighted,’ Sarah-Jayne countered, taking her hand and kissing it. ‘I’ll see you around, and soon.’
Angie watched a tidy ass, delightfully tightened by high heels, as it shimmied away from her.
Soon, her brain yammered. The sooner the better!
‘We spoke about LGBT,’ said Charlie. ‘Well she’s a T.’
With an effort Angie dragged her eyes off Sarah-Jayne’s rear. ‘Never,’ she said.
‘Trust me, Angie, stick your hand in her knickers and you’ll get more than you bargained for. I have it on good authority that she’s hung like a horse. And the hormone therapy hasn’t affected her ability, if you get my drift.’
‘Does “good authority” mean personal experience?’
‘Does it heckers-like; she scares me.’ Charlie shrugged. ‘She doesn’t scare everyone, though.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at her. She’s a girl with a body that doesn’t quit and a cock to boot. Some of my friends find that combination to be . . . interesting.’
Even now, knowing what she was, Angie found Sarah-Jayne interesting, but couldn’t say exactly why. So she asked the question.
‘A lot of lezzie’s like penetration but hate men,’ Charlie said simply. ‘Fucking with her is a step up from being fucked by a girl with a strap-on, isn’t it? Given the right mindset, I mean. And don’t get me going about bi boys and girls. They all throw themselves at her feet.’
‘Bisexual people like boys and girls,’ Angie hazarded, ‘so she fits both bills.’
‘You’ve got it in a nutshell.’
‘And you’re not the sort of lesbian that fancies her.’
‘I can see the attraction,’ Charlie said carefully, ‘but I’m more scared than attracted. Having said that, I’m not a big one for . . . Oho, here comes trouble!’
Angie looked up to see a short girl with a long, emerald green mane stamping towards them.
‘Who’s been fucking in my bed?’ the newcomer said loudly.
Angie sized her up as she confronted Charlie, hands on hips, looking like Violet Elizabeth Bott on a bad hair day.
I’ll thcream and thcream ‘till I’m thick, she thought. Then, grinning: I can!
The girl’s blazing eyes matched her hair and the varnish on her talon-like nails. Her slender body and very noticeable chest were quivering with rage.
‘There are a thousand interlocking cum-circles on my pristine bedsheets,’ she yelled. Then, turning to Angie: ‘Are half of them yours? Have you been fucking my wifey?’
Angie was wary of those fingernails but otherwise unafraid. ‘I didn’t know she even was a wifey,’ she said calmly.
‘You don’t look like the sort who’d bother to ask.’
‘This is Ruby,’ Charlie said to Angie, seemingly unconcerned. ‘Sorry she’s gone off on one. She’s not supposed to be back until next weekend. Otherwise I’d have changed the sheets.’
‘And I’m sorry I never asked,’ Angie said to Ruby, aware that by then they had a sizeable audience.
‘Oh, so the easy cunt’s sorry,’ Ruby snarled. ‘That makes everything all right, doesn’t it?’
Angie stood up. At a shade over six feet she dwarfed Ruby. Not that the pocket dynamo was in any way overawed.
‘Charlie’s my wifey,’ she barked. ‘Keep your hands of my property.’
‘Did you just say property?’ Angie shook her head in amazement.
‘Yes I fucking did.’ Ruby turned to Charlie. ‘Get off your ass and get the fuck home for you-know-what. I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born.’
Charlie got up and shrugged. ‘Sorry to leave you, Angie. And thanks for last night. It was the best ten or twelve hours of sex I’ve had in years.’
The audience audibly gasped at that. A couple of older females actually applauded.
‘Get out of this fucking bar this minute!’ Ruby roared.
Angie watched as the diminutive, green-haired tyrant led her tall, slightly mannish wifey out of the bar, almost but not quite dragging her by the ear.
Conscious of hundreds of eyes on her, determined not to cut and run, Angie went to the bar.
‘Don’t mind Ruby,’ said the barman as he pulled her pint. ‘She’s just a bit hot-headed.’
Angie laughed as she accepted a handful of change.
‘No, really,’ the guy persisted, ‘they argue like that in here all the time.’
‘Thank you,’ said Angie. ‘That makes me feel so much better.’
Not wanting to maintain the conversation, she turned away from the bar to find Sarah-Jayne beaming at her.
Chapter Five
‘Joe’s right,’ Sarah-Jayne said. ‘Ruby’s bark is worse than her bite. She’ll give Charlotte a hard time and a bit of a spanking, then they’ll be right as rain.’
‘Right,’ said Angie. ‘This happens a lot, does it?’
‘Yes it does. Sometimes it’s Charlotte who clicks elsewhere, sometimes it’s Ruby. But guess what? It’s always Charlotte’s fault. I reckon they love the confrontation, and the more public the merrier.’
‘Ruby’s scary,’ Angie admitted, ‘and those claws of hers! I was glad I was bigger than her. Between you and me, I was worried I might get my eyes scratched out.’
‘Give her a day or two and she’ll get over it. Meanwhile, think of the publicity: Charlotte, leading light of the Lesbian Society, thanking you for twelve hours of sex. That’ll get the girls queuing up for you. That and the waves of lust you send out without even trying, of course.’
Sarah-Jayne was grinning wolfishly as she spoke.
‘Twelve hours and a thousand cum-circles,’ she said admiringly.
‘It was probably nearer ten hours than twelve,’ Angie countered with a grin of her own, still confused by her feelings but determined not to show any weakness.
The sexy transgender hooted. ‘And you’re modest with it! Is there no end to your charms?’
Angie had nearly finished her new pint . . . already. She nodded at Sarah-Jayne’s empty wine glass. ‘Can I get you a refill?’
‘Tragically not, I’m afraid. There’s somewhere I have to be. But I’m in here most of the time. You’ll be bumping into me again before you know it.’ She laughed prettily. ‘And with any luck you’ll be bumping into me in more ways than one. Ciao.’
‘Ciao,’ said Angie, watching that shimmying ass retreat once more. She’d taken opportunity to have a good look at Sarah-Jayne close up and had failed to see any masculine signs at all. Everything about her looked natural and sexily feminine, even her double D implants.
No, not “sexily feminine”, everything about her was fucking out-and-out hot!
Could Charlie have been winding her up? Could a girl with a body like that really have a . . .
Pangs of hunger struck. It was time to eat. Angie bought another beer and a baguette from Joe and consumed them at the bar. Then, deciding she had lingered long enough not to be accused of having made a bolt for it, she casually left the Union.
*****
The afternoon’s first stop was at the halls of residence. Angie had now been “at university” for over a day and had so far spent perhaps thirty minutes in her room. It was a relief to see her belongings all still where she’d left them. She’d half-expected to discover she’d been thrown out already.
Briefly considering rearranging some of the items Mum had unpacked for her, she decided a walk was in order. The weather was fine and she�
�d been too long in smoky bars. Fresh air and exercise would set her up for . . . Well, for another evening in a smoky bar.
The university town wasn’t enormous but it had a decent-sized centre and, over the years, had grown to swallow up smaller surrounding towns and villages. Even so, after a brisk quarter of an hour Angie was in open countryside, breathing in fresh air tinted with a whiff of cow shit. Dry stone walls lined her chosen country lane. Gently rolling hills were all around her. Stands of trees were cloaked in autumnal green, red and gold leaves. Even a non-rambler like her had to concede that it was one of those days when it was good to be alive.