Davina Does Easter

'We're jealousy and apology-free,' she countered. ''And Meryl's looking seriously good tonight. I can't fault you for choice.'

'So you're not annoyed?'

'Ask me a week ago and I'd have questioned your eyesight. Not now, though. Is there any chance of swapping her for a slightly shop-soiled, high-mileage rugby forward?'

I did my spec-removing trick again then laughed. 'Nowt wrong with these, lass. You go practice your line-outs; leave Meryl to me.'

*****

We left the Institute shortly after nine o'clock; as soon as I was sure I'd regained control of my bladder and could prise Meryl away from Roberta and an increasingly green-eyed Jacqui.

'Are you always the first to leave parties?' she asked as we climbed back in to the Disco.

'Only when I'm with the hottest girl in town,' I told her.

She gave me her mildest kiss for that (lukewarm by her standards, sizzling by anyone else's).

'I thought we could try Keighley Gate,' she said.

I grinned at her. Keighley Gate was a renowned lovers' lane. I'd never been there before (naturally!) but everyone knew its name was a euphemism for "having sex". In other words, if a girl said she had been there with a guy, it was taken for granted that she'd opened her legs. I was surprised Meryl had even heard of the place; surprised but game to give it a go.

'Do you know the way?' I almost jabbered.

'I looked it up on the map. I'll find it, no worries.'

Proficient as ever, Meryl drove us past the Institute and out of the village, taking a right after the mini-roundabout. We soon passed the last houses and hit open countryside; very much uphill countryside at that. Then, when I was starting to think we'd end up in Silsden, she took another right.

'It's meant to get really busy up here,' she told me. 'Guys screwing other guys' wives and what have you. And kids with nowhere else to go.'

'Like us,' said I.

We passed a few buildings, some residential but most agricultural then went down a dip and hit a new uphill stretch. I wasn't to know it at the time, but the farm in the dip marked the end of civilization as I knew it. Maybe I should have guessed because the road stopped being a narrow-ish country lane and became no more than a single track; one with regular passing places on generous grass verges.

The terrain changed too. The dry stone walls gave way to a thin wire fence, presumably there to keep sheep safe from traffic. Beyond the fence the grass was mostly short but interspersed with clumps of much longer stuff that waved like banshees in the wind. As we went higher and even higher clumps of black encroached, heather taking over from the grass. Then suddenly the grass was no more and we were surrounded by a sea of black.

Now I like heather. At certain times of the year it can be purple and simply majestic. I don't let it fool me, though. I've caddied for my dad often enough. Even the tame stuff on golf courses can come up to your waist and the stems can be thicker than my wrist. Hit a ball in there and you're wisest to call it lost. In the unlikely event of finding the thing you're never going to get it out with doing severe damage to your scorecard.

'That's it,' Meryl said eventually, 'Keighley Gate.'

The Discovery's headlights were illuminating a physical gate; a metal contraption with six or seven bars. Through it I could see that the "road" went on, but not in a usable state. The tarmacked surface ended where we were currently sitting. Beyond the gate were potholes and great pools of water. The Luftwaffe must still be strafing up there as well as along that street back down in Bingley.

In fact maybe they were making a bit more of an effort up there.

Meryl jerked her finger at the gravelled parking space to our right.

'Does that fit the bill?'

I remembered the rumours of how busy it got at Keighley Gate and decided it wouldn't do. There was room for several cars on that space and I didn't want an audience (that was with me being a relatively innocent teenager and not nearly as naughty as I am nowadays!).

'Let's go back down a way,' I said. 'One of those passing places seems more . . . you know. . .'

'Appropriate for being inappropriate?' Meryl grinned.

'Precisely,' said I.

Chapter Thirty

We drove back perhaps a hundred yards and found a suitable position: stopping on a not-too-steep bit of verge with space for one Disco only. Car sex novice that I was, even I could see that dogging was not a possibility. Lights from any approaching vehicle would be visible before it got within a mile of us.

'We're in gear and centrally locked,' Meryl announced. 'We can bounce about to our hearts' content.'

'I'm so excited,' I confessed.

'Me too,' said she, unfastening her seat belt and turning to face me. 'And I'm going to get naked for you. Do you want the music on or off?'

I wasn't sure what the current CD was. It wasn't bouncing about music, though; it was quite tuneful. I suspected it was very early Debbie Harry and guessed it was Meryl's idea of "romantic" so I said fine, leave it on.

Then I watched her unbutton her jeans and unzip her boots.

'Here,' she said, extending one foot in my direction. 'You do the honours.'

I removed her boots and put them in the footwell between my legs, standing them erect like a pair of sentries on guard duty . . . or like my nipples, which were harder than hard.

And don't get me started on my clit. That was like a little diamond. Eight years have passed and it has never once been nearly so hard.

Honest.

'You'll have to help with my Levi's,' Meryl said, 'they're very tight.'

They were but I still had them off her in nanoseconds.

Then she unfastened her waistcoat and made to shrug it aside.

'No,' I said. 'Leave it undone but on.'

'Kinky,' she said, chuckling. 'But I like your style. Knickers on or off?'

I had to ponder that one. Much of my sex up to then had been outdoors and clothed. I actually liked it with knickers on. That is to say I couldn't think of anything better than slipping my trembling hand into a girl's wet panties . . . apart from a girl slipping her hand into mine, of course.

Or pushing aside damp material and feeling hot, swollen lips parting in welcome. . .

'Off,' I said decisively.

She lifted her bum and slid her underwear halfway down her thighs. I obligingly did then rest then passed her back a boot.

'Back on,' I instructed.

'Kinky,' she said again. Then, in boots, unfastened waistcoat and nothing else but a grin, she said, 'I want you to eat me.'

*****

I made her wait for what she really wanted . . . unless she really wanted me to start on her tits. They'd been driving me insane, you see. I simply had to chew them; to nibble and gnaw, kiss, lick and suck. I must have been at them for ages. They were so, so moreish.

So was her pussy. I set out in this tale intending not to make comparisons and I mean to stick to that, somehow. In a way it is quite easy to do, because Meryl's pussy juice was peerless. I'm sure there is a finer taste somewhere in the world but I'm yet to find it. And trust me, I've sipped from many wells in my hunt.

And wasn't she LOUD!!

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, Mum 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 my 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 Mum had gone.

'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 the 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 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?'