Bedding The Boss

by Limey Lady

  ‘I’d better not tell you what my dad calls them. Why don’t you tell me about this Indian neighbour of yours instead?’

  ‘He’s not Indian; he’s an engineer from Keighley. Once upon a time a company in Mumbai bought a mega weaving machine from his firm, wanting to undercut the British textile industry. They did that so well they shut down most of our machine makers, as well as all the weavers. Graham’s one of the few people in the world who knows how to fix this machine when it goes wrong. He gets called out there regularly.’

  ‘I hope he charges top dollar.’

  ‘I don’t know the details, but he feeds his cat with tins of Felix.’

  ‘Then he must be rich. What’s your reward for looking after Tibbles? I hope it’s more than just half a pound of Bombay Mix.’

  ‘I got my reward when he asked me to look after the flipping thing. In fact he adequately rewarded me several times.’

  ‘I see,’ Victoria said slowly. ‘He’s a proper boyfriend, is he?’

  ‘He’s a lapse. I don’t often do men. Not anymore.’

  ‘But you did Graham?’

  ‘He’s the only bloke I’ve been with since I’ve been back in England.’ Heather could feel herself begin to blush again. But knickers, she was going to tell the truth. Her tan camouflaged a blush anyway.

  ‘I’ve only spent one night with him,’ she said, ‘the night he asked me to cat-sit. We had hardly passed the time of day before then. I suppose he caught me at a lonely moment . . . or five.’

  ‘Lonely moments . . . or five . . . I’ve had a few of those lately.’

  ‘Well you won’t have any tonight, I promise.’ Heather had finished her second pint. ‘Are you ready for another?’

  ‘I’m not too bothered. I’ll only go again if you insist.’

  Heather felt the other girl’s hand land on her again. This time it reached the bare bit of thigh above her stocking-top. And immediately edged higher; lots higher, into the significantly wet zone.

  ‘I thought just one more,’ Heather said, the words coming quite breathlessly. ‘While we . . . you know; while we have that chat.’

  ‘What chat’s that?’

  ‘What we did after Lights-out.’

  ‘It’ll save,’ Victoria said. ‘I’m past the time for talking.’

  They stared lustily at each other, Victoria’s eyes were brown and warm and liquid behind her snazzy glasses. Heather’s heart was hammering away harder than ever. And yes, her nipples had turned into bullets, as if she was really, really ready to have sex.

  ‘My place, then,’ she murmured.

  ‘Your place,’ Victoria agreed.

  Chapter Six

  Heather fully expected Victoria to take the lead when they got to the penthouse. And, after all those incursions into her wet zone, she wouldn’t have exactly complained. But, apart from kissing her the moment the front door closed behind them, she didn’t make an immediate move.

  Needless to report, that was another thermonuclear embrace. It didn’t even set off as fiery. Feeling her self-control beginning to slip, Heather pushed her tongue in Victoria’s mouth. Victoria met it with her own, fencing with it, making it welcome without abjectly surrendering.

  Encouraged anew, Heather unfastened the bottom two buttons of the olive-skinned beauty’s blouse.

  ‘Your bedroom,’ Victoria said, breaking off mouth contact and sounding extremely urgent. ‘Take me to your bedroom.’

  Totally okay with that, Heather took her hand and tugged her in the right direction. But, for a moment, she met resistance.

  ‘Your shoes,’ Victoria said as she took off one of her own fancy black sandals.

  Personally Heather didn’t give a hoot for her floorings and carpets. Personally she was just impatient to get her guest naked. She wasn’t going to argue, though, not at a moment like that. Kicking off her new, handmade Oxfords she resumed her tugging. And this time Victoria came willingly enough, padding along with her in her bare feet.

  Next stop was just inside the bedroom door. Heather instigated a second nuclear kiss and, suddenly less in control than ever, unfastened the rest of Victoria’s buttons. Breathing hard through her nose, she slid her hands inside that crisp white blouse. There was a bra in her way but, being expert in that sort of an area, she had it undone and off in an instant.

  And she had been right about those bazoomas! They were amazingly large. And they were amazingly firm, too. Victoria’s nipples were erect and in perfect proportion to her breasts; in fact they were nearly as big as Heather’s disproportionately large nips. Her areolae were comparable in size as well, as was their deepest dark brown, almost black colouring.

  It was impossible not to munch boobs like that. Holding Victoria’s jacket and blouse apart, she feasted on the banquet before her. Hell no; she didn’t feast . . . she pigged out.

  Victoria meanwhile moaned, groaned and regularly said, ‘Ye gods!’ She seemed to be enjoying being munched as much as Heather was enjoying the munching, if not slightly more.

  Her boob appetite finally (but only temporarily) sated, Heather gently pushed Victoria across the room until the backs of her legs were against the bed. Staring at her but not speaking, she quickly removed that mannish jacket and tossed carelessly it onto a nearby chair. Then she removed the blouse altogether and shook her head in admiration.

  ‘Beyond beautiful,’ she said sincerely.

  Victoria’s mannish trousers soon came off and, unfolded, joined the jacket and blouse on that chair. She was now down to a pair of large glasses and a pair of microscopic black panties. If Heather had been in a critical mood, she would have recognized those panties as being from (rather appropriately) Victoria’s Secret. They were very sexy indeed. But, happy to admire boobs as she was, she currently hadn’t time to spare of flimsy bits of fabric.

  Within the blink of an eye Victoria was down to nothing but those snazzy specs and an enthusiastic smile.

  ‘Beyond beautiful,’ Heather repeated. ‘Get on the bed.’

  Victoria obediently sat on the edge with her knees parted. Sinking onto her own stockinged knees, Heather had a closer inspection.

  Mmmm, nice, nice, nice!

  Victoria was cleanly shaven down there and must have had microscopic bikini bottoms that matched her panties: while she didn’t have any noticeable (and dreaded) white bits, there was definitely a patch of lighter olive where the sun hadn’t recently reached.

  Her pussy was even more beautiful than the girl herself. Even swollen with hot blood it belonged on a statue of a Greek goddess. And juice was steadily streaming out of her, making her smell as heavenly as she looked.

  Heather gently pushed Victoria’s upper body with one hand, holding her legs in place with the other.

  ‘Half on, half off,’ she said.

  Victoria clearly knew what she meant. She lay back but kept her feet on the carpet and widened the already wide gap between her knees.

  ‘Take me,’ she murmured, ‘I’m yours.’

  *****

  Normally Heather approached first-time sex cautiously. Well, she did with girls, anyway. And her idea of “cautious” meant she tried not to go diving straight in at the clit. A lot of girls were sensitive there; a lot of girls needed plenty of more general attention before a direct attack on target number one.

  Tonight she tried her best to be cautious but only half-succeeded. Beginning by lapping up as much of that sweet juice as she, could, she gradually worked her way to the mouth of Victoria’s vagina, where lapping up didn’t seem to be viable: the more she lapped, the faster the juices streamed. And slowing down made no difference. Whatever she did, there was no stopping the flow!

  By now Heather was severely sexually excited. Almost miraculously, she hadn’t cum yet but she felt as if she was self-lubricating at the same sort of rate as Victoria. And suddenly rational thought fled.

  Suddenly she was directly attacking the main target.

  Suddenly she’d forgotten all about sensitivity and “genera
l attention”.

  Suddenly her tongue was pressing the magic button and she was the one who immediately came.

  Which was just typical, wasn’t it! Not that cumming quickly spoiled the night or even put Heather off her stroke. She had a locker room full of orgasms; using one up early didn’t matter one whit. So, in the absence of rational thought, she kept on at that button, pressing it, rolling it from side to side, nibbling at it, fastening her teeth around it and (quite) gently tugging.

  Fortunately, Victoria was more hardy than most. She didn’t so much put up with Heather’s onslaught as relish it.

  ‘Ye gods, yes,’ she yelled. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’

  This time they came simultaneously but neither of their mighty climaxes stopped Heather; no, not her. She pressed on as enthusiastically as ever. Victoria’s repeated grunts, groans and moans only acted as a spur.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Victoria frequently cried, ‘more, more, more.’

  Heather gladly gave her more and more. She soon gave up counting cums and hoping that they might coincide. Instead she pressed two strong fingers inside her willing victim and relied on nature to take her course.

  Then, perhaps three vaginal orgasms later, she abruptly broke off.

  ‘Stay there,’ she commanded. ‘Watch me.’

  Being as slow and seductive as she possibly could, she took off her blouse then, rather flamboyantly, unzipped her skirt.

  ‘Like what you see?’ she asked, standing there between Victoria’s still-spread legs, standing there in her nylons and a piece of string that was supposed to be a thong.

  Victoria’s amazing chest was heaving. Her stream was becoming a river; Heather’s question was only too obviously a waste of breath.

  ‘Yes,’ Vic gasped. ‘Fuck me, yes, I do!’

  ‘Do you want my thong on or off?’

  ‘Off.’

  ‘That is the correct answer.’ Heather removed the very soggy garment and threw it aside, nowhere near caring where it landed.

  ‘Do you want my stockings on or off?’

  ‘On.’ Victoria hesitated a second. ‘I want them on for the time being, anyway.’

  ‘Move up the bed.’

  Victoria did as she was told, dropping anchor from the bedroom carpet and bum-wiggling her way in the direction of the bedhead.

  Heather immediately joined her on the cum-drenched duvet. Victoria, probably expecting more head, somehow managed to open her legs even wider.

  The sight was too much. Heather was in like Flynn, but not in an oral way. No, she did her impression of a pirate boarding party and swarmed all over Vic, making sure she attained the dead central position. And making sure her pussy was in complete control by grabbing Victoria’s ankles, yanking them high in the air, pointing her sexily-nailed toes up towards the ceiling.

  Positioned as she was, Victoria’s clit was unmissable. A girl of Heather’s skill and experience couldn’t fail to stimulate it, using the whole extent of her own pussy. And (if she’d been in any state to think about what she was going to do), being a little less than fair about it. She was going to use goodness only knew how many square inches of herself directly against maybe one square inch of Victoria.

  Unfair or not, Heather came first. But still she didn’t so much as falter. By her reckoning their orgasm count had got close to even. What did it matter if she was permanently up there, on the verge of another? She had a whole locker-room of cums, didn’t she? Pleasuring Victoria was energizing her; it wasn’t tiring at all. She could go on like this for the rest of the night.

  Grinning to herself, she accelerated.

  ‘Yes,’ yes, yes,’ Victoria wailed. ’Give me more, more, more!’

  Her grin wider than her lover’s legs, Heather further upped the pace.

  The rest of the night, she thought, only dimly aware it was the only real thought inside her head.

  ‘Yes,’ yes, yes,’ Victoria echoed, ’more, more, more!’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Oh my,’ Victoria sighed, lying flat out on Heather’s king-sized bed. ‘I’m glad we didn’t wait for that.’

  Heather untangled their legs. They were both drenched with sweat and passion but the smell of them wasn’t unpleasant. She’d always liked the smell of urgent sex.

  Not to mention the salty-sweet tastes with their undertones of honey.

  ‘What’s with you, Vic?’ she ran her fingers through the other girl’s damp but still spiky hair. ‘Have you had enough already?’

  ‘Vic now, is it? I must have been all right.’

  ‘Better than all right, you’re my Hot for It Girl of the Month.’

  ‘Me hot for it,’ Vic laughed, ‘I hardly got to do anything.’

  A brief but awkward silence ensued.

  ‘Did I get carried away?’ Heather asked finally.

  ‘Yes, just ever so slightly. That was like being fucked by Taz the Tasmanian devil. God knows how Joanna came up with “Snow White”.’

  Heather scrunched defensively. ‘Joanna isn’t to know how depraved I am, is she.’

  ‘I should hope not. If you went at her like that she’d be begging the huntsman to cut out her lungs.’

  ‘Sorry. I . . .’

  ‘Shush, shush,’ said Victoria. ‘I’m not complaining. Not in the least.’

  Heather brightened at that. ‘Aren’t you really?’ she asked.

  ‘No, not really,’ Victoria kissed up at her forehead, ‘not really, really, really.’

  Heather was relieved. She’d been starting to think she’d given it too much oomph.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  ‘You surprised me,’ Victoria went on, almost-but-not-exactly accusingly. ‘In my experience, the heroic white knight usually gets to ravish the damsel in distress. It’s exceptionally rare for the knight to be on the receiving end.’

  ‘You should have said.’ Heather tried to seem demure. ‘I’m always open to being ravished. Or equal shares. I’m very adaptable.’

  ‘Oh I see. I should have spelled it out in advance, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘It would have helped. You’d better give me a list of does and don’ts before we resume.’

  ‘Resume?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m not nearly done yet.’

  There was another brief silence, each of them studying the other.

  ‘Honestly,’ Heather said. ‘Just let me know and I’ll be up for anything you want.’

  ‘Equal shares sound good.’ Victoria broke into a welcome and dazzling smile. ‘Although I must admit, being overwhelmed like that made a pleasant change.’ She chuckled. ‘It usually goes without saying that I’ll be the ravisher. Comes with being a bossy cow, I suppose.’

  They studied each other again, the high-flier still wearing her snazzy specs.

  How’s she managed that? Heather wondered, remembering a flurry of limbs, clothes flying off in all directions. Had she kept them on when she’d . . .

  It was no use. The details were fuzzy, as if they’d had a whole night on the beer and not just a couple of pints.