As Time Goes By Ch. 01

"This isn't fair, Dot," I complained.

"What isn't fair?"

"I'm naked and you're not."

"I'll soon fix that—give me a second." Dot stood, kicking off her sandals and stripping her shirt and denims. Like me, she had gone commando and stood there naked. I caught my breath as I looked at her. She was... well, I thought wow! long, lean and spare, fit and muscular but not heavily so. Her breasts were small and firm with large brown areolas and chunky brown nipples, the size of large blackberries, which stood out hard, begging to be sucked. What did surprise and delight me was that Dot's body was hairless, legs, underarms and pubic area being shaved smooth. I think that perhaps because she was a carpenter, I had half-expected her to be a hairy butch type. I guess I was guilty of stereotyping.

"Oh God, Dot, I love your body, it's gorgeous," I whispered, "Come here, I want those lovely tits of yours."

"And I want yours. Shall we fight for it or toss a coin?" Dot threw herself back onto the bed and pulled me to her in a close embrace. And then I was able to identify the fragrance she was using. It was sandalwood, very appropriate for my lovely carpenter. She added: "Christ, my beautiful Fran, I do love you. You can't imagine how much I've been longing for this." Holding each other tight, we kissed again, our tongues exploring and sucking; this time the kiss was more tender, slower, more sensuous.

"Me too," I gasped when we came up for air, "I love you too, Dot. Don't ever doubt me again. I'm yours, now and always. I'll never let you down."

Dot turned me onto my back, spread my legs and lowered herself so that our mounds were pressed together. She claimed my mouth again and for an age we did nothing but plant all manner of kisses and licks and gentle bites over one another's lips and faces and throats. I could feel my trimmed pubic hairs getting soaked by our mingling juices and I wrapped my legs around Dot, locking my ankles behind her back as she started to gently hump me. Head lowered, Dot began to work on my breasts once more, holding and caressing the mounds, sucking, licking and playing with my nipples so well that I swear they swelled to more than twice their usual size. That's the way it felt, anyhow.

Dot pulled back and gazed between my legs. "What a beautiful pussy you've got. She can definitely come into our Goldilocks story." She put out an exploring hand. "And you're soaking wet. That's lovely." I've said that Dot's Yorkshire accent had mellowed but she could still lapse into broad dialect when she wished. Still stroking my slit with a long forefinger, she said: "Ee, lass, tha's gradely."

I took her other hand and kissed the palm and the inside of her wrist. "Gradely—what does that mean?" I asked.

Again Dot gave me that sweet smile. " 'Gradely' means everything that's fine, perfect, brilliant, excellent, what you like. In your case it means gorgeous. You're gradely my wonderful Fran."

Kissing me again, Dot straddled one of my thighs and rubbed her pussy against it so that I could feel her slippery juices spreading over me. At the same time, she slid one and then two fingers into me, bending them into a 'come hither' hook and rubbing against the upper part of my vagina, finding my g-spot very quickly. Her hand half-clenched so that her thumb and the heel of her palm rubbed against my clitoris and I was aware of my pussy gripping and relaxing against Dot's fingers. I could also feel those deep-down indescribable sensations that told me orgasm wasn't far off.

Dot's face slowly flushed and her eyes glazed over as she rubbed herself harder and harder against my thigh. Her breathing became laboured and so did mine as she finger-fucked me faster and faster. I pulled Dot towards me again and held her tight as we came, more-or-less together. I could hear myself whimpering and Dot emitted little cries.

We hugged closely as our bodies calmed down and then we fell apart to lie side-by-side, holding hands and exchanging tiny kisses. After a while, Dot said: "Well, do you think the bed's up to handling the two of us?"

I pretended to consider. "Perhaps, but I'm not too sure. I think that I'll have to try it again to be certain." I rolled over so that I was lying on Dot and took her lower lip between my teeth to lick it gently. "Now you just stay where you are, Dot Barrow, and behave yourself—don't make any sudden movements. This is going to be a very important test and I don't want you distracting me."

An amused Dot grinned at me. "Well, aren't you the bossy little Pussy-in-Boots. Okay, my lovely Fran, go ahead, do whatever you want. I'll just lie here and enjoy it."

"Oh, you will..."

Cupping Dot's face, I gave her a lingering kiss, my agile tongue exploring her mouth freely. I licked all around her mouth and chin, jawline and ears, and then settled on the hollow at the base of her throat. My nostrils were filled with the heady scent of sandalwood and I buried my face between her breasts, inhaling deeply. Her nipples called out to me for attention and I fastened my mouth on one while playing with the other. It was certainly the thickest nipple I've had between my lips, not that I've had all that many. I licked and sucked as hard as I could, swapping one for the other every now and then, drawing lazy circles around her areolas with my fingers. I knew Dot was enjoying it because she sighed and moaned almost without cease as her nipples swelled in my mouth. As I worked on her breasts and nipples I moved one hand down between her legs and slipped a finger into her sopping folds. I brought my finger back up and wiped the juices over an erect nipple which I sucked and licked clean.

I kissed my way down to her belly button to run my tongue round and round and into it. I could hear Dot's breath growing heavier and her occasional moans becoming more frequent. Shifting on the bed, I made my way down to one ankle and inch-by-inch kissed and nibbled my way up her leg right into the hollow where it joined her torso, reluctantly by-passing her pussy with it's very strong smell of female musk. I kissed across her belly and worked down the other leg. When I had finished that, I at last allowed myself to have a good look at Dot's pussy.

It glittered with the moisture trickling out of her and she had a fairly large clit protruding a little from the upper lips. I laid my face and chin against her, rubbing so that I was smeared with her juice. That's the way a cat establishes ownership and I was now her Pussy-in-Boots. I opened Dot up a little and slowly lapped with the flat of my tongue from the bottom to her clitoris. Dot let out a loud gasp and her hips gave an involuntary jerk. "Oh my God, yes!" she gasped, twitching a second time as I thrust my tongue as far as possible into her vagina. I licked all around her dripping folds, mumbling at her inner lips and finally fastening my lips on her erect clit. As I sucked, I slid two fingers into her—she was hot and clinging and slippery wet.

Dot's hands pulled my head close and her thighs clamped against me as she came off, crying out several times, her cries gradually diminishing to a rapid panting. I cleaned her pussy as best I could with my tongue and hauled myself up so that I could embrace her. The look on her face is best described as one of pure joy and she started giggling like a kid. Then she tried to speak, her voice gasping and disjointed: "Oh God, Fran... that... wonderful... I never... anything like..."

I guessed what she meant. "Ellen never did that for you?"

For a few moments Dot worked to bring her breathing under control then said: "Fran, love, nobody ever did that for me before."

It made me feel strangely proud that I was the one to introduce Dot to the pleasures of cunnilingus. I gathered her in my arms and snuggled in close. "You'll be pleased to hear that the bed has passed my most stringent test."

"So you'll move in with me?" There was longing in Dot's voice.

"As soon as you like—as soon as you'll have me. Tomorrow?"

Dot said nothing, just pulled me against her more tightly, her face pressed into me. After a moment I felt something wet against my shoulder. I looked down and saw that Dot was weeping. "Dot, darling, why are you crying?"

She smiled through the tears. "Because I'm so very fucking happy. Excuse my language..."

* * * * *

My parents met Dot and approved. Oh, Mum had a few misgivings when I first called to tell them about us. While she was fully reconciled to my sexuality, she worried now that Dot might be too old for me. I explained that Dot had expressed the same concern and we had sorted the matter out. Anyway, Dot very cleverly won Mum over.

Some time before we visited, Dot had casually asked if Mum had any hobbies. I said she was a skilled needlewoman and knitter and then forgot about it. Without saying anything to me, Dot made my mother a beautiful little cabinet complete with all the drawers and compartments a seamstress could need. Mum was thrilled. As for Dad, Dot was able to speak cattle with him; I think she avoided mentioning that cows were stupid twats.

At a later date we went up to Yorkshire for a few days for me to meet Dot's family. A while before we set out, Dot told me about her mother and brothers. "Look, at first you'll probably think they're unfriendly but they're not really. They're all naturally quiet and not given to saying much unless they think there's something worth saying. I'll be honest with you, Fran, none of them got on well with Ellen but then she made no effort to get on with them or with anybody else I knew at home. I think she believed that Northern community farmers weren't worth bothering with. You're different. You're from a farming family. I think you'll manage to find some way to win them over."

From what Dot said, I wasn't too sure about that but said nothing. Instead, I asked: "Obviously they know about you. What was their reaction when you came out?"

Dot smiled. "Father was still alive then and I told all of them together. There's an old Yorkshire saying and Father came straight out with it. 'Well,' he said, 'there's nowt so queer as folk!' Then he and my brothers fell about laughing and when they stopped laughing they all hugged me and everything was okay."

"And your Mum?"

"It was fine with her, too, for a different reason." Dot laughed and added: "You'll probably think this is a bit weird but Mother's religious, not a fundamentalist or a fanatic but you'd still think she'd disapprove. But she believes that everything that happens is part of God's great plan. So if I was a lesbian, obviously it was because He wanted me to be a lesbian and who was she to question God's motives? Nothing more to be said about it."

"Dot, will you teach me some Yorkshire dialect so that I understand people and don't need to keep asking you what they mean?"

Dot looked at me, love shining in her eyes, then put a hand behind my head to pull me in for a small kiss. "Of course I will, my gorgeous lass. But you'll not hear too much dialect in towns these days, mainly in rural areas."

When we were approaching the farm, I was surprised at how gentle much of the landscape was. Turning to Dot, I said: "I thought Yorkshire was all bleak moors, you know, like in Wuthering Heights."

"Oh, there's plenty of those," she told me, "I'll take you to see some before we go home. They're not so good for cattle though. There's a lot more to Yorkshire than moors. We've got almost every kind of scenery you'd want here. We're almost home now, just over this rise."

I'm glad Dot had warned me about her family. They all greeted me pleasantly enough but did look a dour lot—they could almost have had bit parts in Wuthering Heights themselves. Her brothers seemed a good deal older than Dot, Geoff being the little one and Charlie the big one. This business of their size is relative, little Geoff being about six-three or so, with Charlie topping him by a couple of inches. Mrs. Barrow was a tiny, skinny scrap of a woman with a forbidding air about her so I guess that Dot and her brothers must have got their heights from their father.

Another thing that struck me as odd was the way all three addressed Mrs. Barrow as 'Mother' and not 'Mum' or 'Mam'. And yet because of their accents, it sounded nowhere near as formal as it might have done elsewhere. I noticed that from the time we arrived, Dot's accent grew broader. When we went to bed that night, Dot said: "Don't worry Fran, you'll find a way to win them over. Right now they'll address you as 'you'. When they start calling you 'thee' or 'tha' you'll know you've cracked it." Then she gave me a kiss and we slept cuddled up.

I broke through with Geoff first. I got up very early the first morning, dressed and went down to the kitchen where Geoff was drinking tea and eating a huge slice of bread. We exchanged a few words and then he said: "I can't sit here gossiping, I've got cows to see to."

"Can I come with you?"

Geoff looked doubtful. "It's not a tourist attraction. Milking a herd's hard work. And we haven't got any gum-boots to fit you."

"That's okay, I've brought my own."

He gave a grudging nod. "Come on then." I followed him out to the milking sheds where two farm-hands were already setting things up.

I threw my first dart and think I scored a bull's-eye. Pointing to the cows in their milking stalls, I said: "I see you've got a mixed herd--Friesians with some Shorthorns and Ayrshires by the look of it. Let me help you." I pushed past the farm-hands and started to work at one of the milking machines. I heard one of the hands say, "Looks like she knows what she's doing, boss."

When all the morning's milking was finished, a suddenly-grinning Geoff said to me: "Tha's done this before, lass."

I shot back with a Yorkshire comment that Dot had taught me. "Happen."

He put an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, lass, I'll make thee some breakfast."

I dealt with Charlie in another way and it was fun. He took Dot and me down to the local pub, The Shepherd—me, I think, with reluctance. It was just the sort of place I love, almost a carbon copy of The Monk's Head. And it was a Free House. Charlie introduced me to the landlord, Alan, as Dot's friend from 't' South' and ordered pints for himself and Dot. Turning to me, he said in a condescending way: "I suppose you'll want some sort of girly drink."

I looked at the floor, pretending modesty, and put on a helpless little girl voice. "Well, usually I'd have a very small sweet sherry, but perhaps I could try one of those beer things you've got." I could see Dot, standing behind her brother, face reddening as she struggled not to laugh. I looked at the range of beer pumps and lighted on an old friend which happened to be one of the strongest real ales there. "Oh, that's a pretty name, The Old Speckled Hen. I'll try that."

Charlie winked at the landlord. "Aye, right—give the lady a half of the pretty one, Alan."

"Oh, no. Could I have a big one like you?" Dot was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Okay, pint it is."

Charlie and Alan watched closely as I lifted my glass and took a tiny sip. It was good beer, well-kept. "Well?" asked Charlie.

Still maintaining the little girl lost voice, I said: "It seems nice, but I'd better have another sip to be sure." I raised the pint to my lips, tilted the glass and drained it in one go. I turned to Alan and said: "You serve a gradely drop of ale." I stared hard at Charlie's untouched glass. "What's holding you? Come on then, sup up."

Charlie stared, open-mouthed. "You've been having me on."

"Happen."

He turned to Dot who was now chortling out loud. "And tha knew she were having me on. And tha's taught her some Yorkshire."

"Happen."

Charlie let out a huge guffaw. "By heck, our Dot, looks like tha's got thissen a good 'un this time." He turned back to me. "As for thee—" he patted my shoulder with a hand the size of a shovel, "—well, happen I deserved that. Welcome to t' family, lass."

I broke my general rule that night, having two or three more pints with them. It was worth the mild hangover the next morning.

Two down, one to go, so Dot and I hatched a plot. One morning Dot announced that she was going to take her mother to York for the day. She overrode Mrs. Barrow's protests, pointing out that the old woman rarely had a day away from the farm. While they were gone I made a substantial casserole with small herb dumplings and a selection of vegetables and a large apple pie to follow. When the two returned that evening, the first thing Mrs. Barrow said was that she'd better prepare supper. "No need," I told her firmly, "it's all ready for you."

When we had finished the meal, Mrs. Barrow said: "That were right tasty." Her lips twitched in a smile as she turned to me. "Tha's a grand cook, lass." Across the table, Dot winked at me. The wink said 'You've cracked it, kid.'

When we were leaving, a day or two later, the old woman came to me and said: "From now on, lass, you can call me Mother Barrow."

I swear there was a small tear in Dot's eye as we drove away. "Mother would never have said that to Ellen, not in a thousand years."

* * * * *

From the outset of our living together we explored all ways of pleasing one another sexually. It was odd that despite being far older than me, Dot seemed much less experienced and yet I certainly wasn't any female Casanova. I don't think Dot had met all that many gay girls and as time went on, I gathered that Ellen had been quite strait-laced about sex, unwilling to try much other than mutual masturbation or the very occasional bout of humping and neither all that often. Well, I hoped her wealthy lawyer was getting her money's worth. Dot was thrilled beyond words that I was adventurous in bed... and in the sitting room... and in the giant bath... well, you get the picture. It was a great progression for her. And a little progression for me—to please Dot, I started shaving my pubes, something I would never have considered before.

She went for oral sex as if it was going out of fashion and couldn't get enough of my pussy—when I first suggested sixty-nine she had me upside down before I could blink. Sometimes Dot enjoyed watching me masturbate, saying she loved my expression when I came. She would take my hand when I had finished so that she could clean it up with her mouth and tongue. In turn I loved using a finger-sized vibrator I had on Dot, teasing her puss until she went off like a firework. And she enjoyed me taking her clitoral hood between thumb and finger and playing gently with it, as if her clit were a tiny dick.

In the same Southampton sex shop where I bought the vibrator, Dot found a special toy for our occasional use. It was L-shaped, one arm being about four inches in length, the other an inch or two longer. It also had a couple of little projections to rub against our clits. She would insert the shorter arm into her pussy and shag me with the other. Mostly we climaxed together when using the dildo. On occasion, of course, love-making was off the agenda for various reasons; at such times I slept soundly in bed, feeling so safe and so cherished and so very much loved as we cuddled our bodies together with arms around one another.

We did have other entertainment apart from sex. We built up a fine DVD collection of old and classic films and an equally fine selection of music CDs. And of course we had our visits to The Monk's Head.

When the new legislation came into effect, Dot and I became civil partners, although we kept the occasion fairly low key. We went to Portsmouth Register Office for the ceremony where we exchanged simple eternity rings: Mary Little had stayed on in the village, having been offered a teaching post at college, and she came with her then boyfriend to act as our witnesses. In the evening, we held a small party in The Monk's Head where Jack and the other regulars presented us with a large framed poster of Bogart and Bacall in Key Largo. It took pride of place in our sitting room.