by Limey Lady
Okay, Meryl was relatively subdued when I feasted on her lovely titties, cumming thrice and being so polite as to talk me through all three. But when I put my tongue tip on her clit or forced the whole thing inside her, as deep as it could go . . .
Forget about yelling, that girl screamed and SCREAMED!!!
I suppose my previous sex had been surreptitious. Being outdoors and at risk of alerting dog-walkers was always a consideration. And with approved “sleepovers” there were always parents just down the corridor. Even Lorna’s posh detached house had its share of nosy neighbours, all ready to investigate inadvertent cries of joy.
Being in a car parked up in the middle of nowhere was different. Meryl clearly saw no reason to bite into my yummy shoulder and didn’t care if she scared a whole moor full of sheep.
She could swear like a trooper, too. If I’d had a swear box at a tenner a time I would have become an overnight billionaire.
It was good, though. Her sprawled in the driving seat, me trying not to get impaled on the gear stick, my tongue burrowing ever deeper.
Her foul language mixed with her yells. I was the effing best eff she’d ever had. She’d never cum so effing hard and she wanted me to eff her forever. Her effing cee was on fire and she effing loved it. If I ever wanted to eff her I only had to effing ask. She’d never refuse me an eff, not ever.
I’m usually averse to swearing but I found her tirade strangely arousing. The fact she kept cumming did help and I’ve already told you how sweet she tasted. I could quite easily have stayed down there all night. As it happened, giving up on my hair as too short, she finally pulled me up by my ears.
‘It’s your turn,’ she gasped, ’surprise time. Get in the back and get your kit off.’
There was indeed plenty of room in the back. I stripped in no time at all and was in two minds about putting my Docs back on when Meryl joined me.
‘On,’ she said.
I didn’t argue; oh no, I was too intrigued by the object she had in her hand.
‘Is that . . .’ I began hopefully.
‘It’s my favourite toy,’ she replied, flicking a switch and making it buzz.
For perhaps ten seconds I was overwhelmed. I’d hoped for a dildo but never even considered using a vibrator. Then Meryl pressed it against my nipple and I was instantly converted.
Nowadays I’m a sex toy aficionado. I have lots of them and use them whenever I’m alone in bed. Put simply, I like orgasms and toys help me achieve. I’m not ashamed of admitting that and I am always ready to share (two people can have twice the fun, yeah?). The first touch of Meryl’s vibrator was my big watershed moment.
That time it was me yelling and screaming. And that was through a little attention to my non-existent tits. When she progressed and pressed it to my clit I nearly passed out.
And then, when she pushed it inside me . . .
*****
That night, having much farther to go home, Meryl had set her phone to give a thirty minutes warning. Before she redressed, recalling what she’d said about Suzi Q, I kissed her F-me boots.
‘Never mind me only having to ask to eff you,’ I told her. ‘You can eff me anytime you like; night or day. Just ask and I’ll be yours.’
‘Like a proper girlfriend?’ she said.
Wildly enthusiastic as I was, I hesitated at that. ‘Like a proper friend,’ I said eventually. ‘My life is too complicated for commitments, but I’ll always find time for a friend.’
Meryl considered that a while. ‘Sounds like a mutually convenient arrangement,’ she concluded.
She wasn’t wrong, either. We’ve been sharing effs on and off ever since. In fact she’s effed me more times than anyone, Sara and Kat included.
Chapter Thirty-One
Here’s a little postscript to that particular Saturday night. Driving down from the moors Meryl asked if I liked Blondie.
‘She’s knocking on a bit but still sexy,’ I replied.
Almost a big mistake!
‘The group’s called “Blondie”,’ Meryl said tartly, ‘not the lead singer. And they’re on in Manchester in January. Do you fancy making a night of it?’
‘Yes,’ I said hastily.
‘Mum doesn’t like me driving there and back in one go,’ Meryl went on. ‘We could get the train. Do an overnight in a hotel.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said sincerely. ‘Will your mum approve?’
‘Mum will be delighted I’ve made a friend. She won’t even think about separate rooms or any of that shit.’
‘In that case count me in. I . . . Oh my God, that’s Ray’s car.’
Well, it was Ray’s mum’s car, but you know what I mean. He’d parked up in a passing place lower than us. And I was prepared to bet I knew what he was up to . . . and with whom.
‘Go past slow,’ I said, ‘I have to see this.’
The Discovery had a significant height advantage over a Fiesta. Meryl practically crawled past. It was easy-peasy for me to peer in and the smaller car’s occupants didn’t even notice us.
Meaning the girl on her back, legs braced against the roof; or the guy on top, pounding into her, his bare ass bobbing frantically.
‘Was that Sara?’ Meryl asked perhaps ten minutes later, as we went through East Morton yet again.
‘I couldn’t properly see,’ said I. ‘But I’d bet the farm on it. If I had a farm, that is.’
‘Slutty cow,’ Meryl observed.
I looked her way, smiling in spite of myself. ‘She’s a slut after what we’ve been doing?’
‘Yeah,’ Meryl said with conviction. ‘Girls don’t count. We can eff each other as much as we like.’
*****
So to Sunday. My Mum brought me the usual coffee in bed, gave me the usual grilling then asked me to remind her why exactly Kelly was calling round.
I gave her the same flannel as before and added some extras. Kelly might be mannish but she wasn’t my type. I was “with” Sara and not looking for anyone else . . .
(That being the biggest lie I’d ever told anyone!!)
‘Enough of the NAND gates,’ my mum said, ‘what are you really up to?’
I told her that we had a bitch of a piece of coursework. ‘I’m cool with it,’ I said truthfully. ‘But our new IT teacher isn’t up to scratch. I’m going to explain the bits Kelly doesn’t get.’
‘Isn’t that cheating?’ Mum said, somewhat predictably.
‘No,’ I fibbed. ‘If our teacher had half a brain Kelly would sail through. I’m just explaining the essentials he can’t seem to get across.’
‘Um,’ said Mum. ‘Tell me you’re not going to get into trouble.’
‘Kelly will press all the keys herself,’ I assured her. ‘I won’t leave a single fingerprint.’
*****
Mum was being unfair when she described Kelly as “mannish”. She was even taller than me and sexy as hell. She was also as thin as a rake and looked good for it. Her hips were narrow and she had tits that stood out like melons . . . and prize-winning melons at that.
(Friends of mine and tits, eh? It just is not fair!!)
Trust me: mannish or not, my mother was right to worry about leaving me alone with Kelly.
I’d had a wild, sexual weekend and, truth was, I was hungry for more.
So, fortunately, was she.
Dodging Mum was the tricky bit. She turned up early on with coffees and biscuits while the two of us were lying innocently on our tummies, heavily involved with master-slave flip-flops.
Kelly’s hand landed on my ass three seconds after the coast was clear.
‘I’ve grasped the concept,’ she said. ‘Let me grasp this instead.’
What more can I say? Having furtive sex in my bedroom was the sexiest thing ever! Always aware my mum could show up at any moment, we fingered each other like crazy. Then, throwing caution to the wind, we took turns to face-sit in an awkward, semi-dressed sort of a way.
It was definitely an afternoon in keeping with the rest of t
he weekend. Scary but fun, fun, fun. I was as good as terrified all along but that only added to the occasion.
Guess what? After that Kelly became another regular lover of mine.
It would have been rude to exclude her.
*****
In case you are wondering I did have a chat with Sara about Saturday night. At first, appalled that I’d seen her at it, she accused me of following her. Then, when I pointed out I’d left at nine and only seen her at half past midnight, she relented a little.
‘I never saw you go past,’ she said.
‘We didn’t linger,’ I fibbed, ‘and it was only too obvious your attention was elsewhere.’
‘What’s she like?’ Sara went on. ‘Meryl, I mean.’
‘Surprisingly experienced,’ I told her. ‘But that’s all you’re getting. I don’t ask you about Ray, do I?’
‘You evidently don’t need to,’ she laughed. Then, growing serious: ‘Does our agreement still stand?’
‘I hope so.’ I shrugged. ‘But I’ve agreed to see Meryl again. We might have to redefine “flings”.’
‘You mean the flings you have but I don’t?’ Sara held her hand up before I could object. ‘We might be grown women but we’re still finding our feet, aren’t we? I never expected Ray to become as regular as he seems to be. And you never expected to click with Meryl.’
‘She needs a friend,’ I replied. ‘I can’t just ditch her. It would be cruel. And besides, I don’t want to ditch her.’
‘She’s as experienced as that, is she?’ Sara laughed again. ‘Go on, then, let’s redefine “flings” . . .’
*****
The next few months were - to say the least - fulfilling. Officially I was Sara’s number one girl but I still went out with Ellie, (the alliterative) Kelly and Meryl. I also ensured I kept up all those secret monthly Saturday liaisons with Lorna.
Two nights a week sharing a bed with Sara, four other regular lovers . . .
Working Mondays and Tuesdays at Spar . . .
Keeping ahead of the pack with my A-level studying . . .
I honestly didn’t have time for a one-off one-night stand! Chance would have been a fine thing!!
Before I forget to mention it, Ellie gave me a dildo for a Christmas present. It was very similar to hers except it was transparent instead of jet-black. Determined to match her generosity, (afraid of buying off the Internet with its suspicious “plain brown-paper parcels”) I caught the train into Leeds and bought her a multi-speed rabbit in the sales. Take it from me: we made good use of both those presents every time we were sure her parents were safely out of the way.
Call me a sex-addict but who cares! Is there really a better activity than cumming one’s brains out with a friend who has similar tastes?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Easter was late that year; well into April. Sara set off for Lanzarote the week before Good Friday (for some reason UK flights were always on Thursdays, so she went on the one before Maundy money got dished out). In other words, by pure co-incidence, she missed the Sixth Form Easter Bash.
I didn’t.
Now, call me opportunistic, but Miss Williams was on duty that night. “Duty” meant that four teachers had to attend yet another common room function with a dry bar, there to ensure nothing too untoward occurred with all those horny teenagers let loose in the same place. Miss Williams drew lucky in that she only had to be there until nine thirty. She also drew lucky in that I totally hogged her time from the second I arrived.
Well, perhaps she didn’t consider herself so lucky, but I hogged her time all the same. As I’ve already mentioned, she was staggeringly good-looking. And Sara was away, Kelly was God only knew where, Lorna was with Steve and Ellie was otherwise engaged. I guess Meryl was somewhere up to no good and it didn‘t matter anyway; the opportunity to flirt with Miss Williams was too good to resist.
She let me flirt as well. Okay, so she did it in a guarded sort of a way. We both were open with each other about doing girls, remember? But I suppose I did go at the flattery like a bull at a gate. If she was at all reluctant I pretended not to notice. Supermodels have had fewer compliments than the thousands I paid her.
‘Nearly time for me to be off,’ she said, maybe ten minutes before her supervising stint ended.
‘I wish you wouldn’t.’ I replied.
I suspect she already knew how the wind was blowing (unless she’d suddenly become blind, deaf and dumb she must have!). If nothing else she had to have noticed the way I was staring at her, lustily and with my tongue all but hanging out.
‘Teacher-student relationships are a quagmire,’ she said, before I could proposition her.
‘I’m eighteen,’ I replied. ‘I can vote, marry, drive and everything. Surely you can take me for a drink? I’ll even pay if that’s a problem. I am old enough.’
‘Davina . . .’
‘I’m Dave to you.’
Our eyes met for the first time. I mean really, really met.
‘Who are you?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘Who are you to friends?’
‘Val,’ she admitted. ‘Occasionally I’m Valentina.’
‘And who are you to lovers?’
She shook her head, smiling a little ruefully.
‘Come on,’ I persisted. ‘Do you want me to buy you a drink or what?’
‘To lovers I’m always Val,’ she said finally. ‘And I don’t believe I’ve let you talk me into this.’
*****
We went to a pub called The Hermit. It was halfway to Ilkley and in a position that was nearly as remote as Keighley Gate.
‘We can’t be seen out and about together,’ Miss Williams told me, quite sternly.
‘Nobody will know us up here. We’re as good as anonymous.’
‘Dave, I have my career to think about. If we . . .’
‘I want to have sex with you,’ I interjected. I don’t particularly want anyone to see us. And I will never tell anyone one word about anything we do together. My lips are sealed as far as sex goes. I want it like crazy, but I will never blab.’
Miss Williams stared at me. I could tell she’d weakened. Beautiful women always have that look about them when they’re about to come across. ‘You are very tempting,’ she said.
‘I hoped you might think that,’ I replied. ‘Have I an incy-wincy chance of sex after all?’
Turned out the answer was “yes”.
*****
Val Williams was the woman who introduced me to tribbing. That happened in the back of her car, in a layby very soon after we’d left The Hermit. She was also the first woman who had me with a strap-on, a week later . . . in her bed . . . in the heat of passion and on my best ever Good Friday night.
Are you ready for a digression? Well, here goes, whether you are or are not. Being penetrated is one of my big sexual likes . . . as long as it’s done by a woman. If asked why the idea of being penetrated by a man is a turn-off . . .
