Heather's Busy Week Pt. 03

'Girls are all different,' she said before she could be preached at. 'And very few of them "play the man" a hundred per cent of the time.'

'Correct. Most girls take the man's role now and then. Without naming any names, there's a couple on your course who brag about the way they've shagged their guy. Or, more often than not, someone else's guy.'

Ingrid actually had about half a dozen course-mates who talked about nothing but sex. If their stories were anything to go by, their male conquests were lucky to ever get a stint on top.

'They're straight,' she protested mildly. 'And they are an exception. No, they are an extreme exception.'

'They're the exception that proves the rule. During a night of shagging, almost every couple will switch roles at some stage. Maybe briefly, maybe longer term.'

'And Heather?'

'She'd be mortified if she went a whole night without swapping places. And she loves being eaten . . . Whoops! That's something else I shouldn't have said!'

While Ingrid laughed she decided Rache probably loved being eaten as well.

She's being kind to me, she thought. She thinks I'm still too much of a scaredy-cat to try to pleasure her. Oblique hints are as far as she'll go.

'We agreed to be platonic,' she said aloud. 'Me and Heather, I mean. After she made a move on me in the Union Bar. And why are you smirking, Rachael Brown?'

'You turning down a festive fuck. No one else would have. Heather has buckets and buckets of va-va-voom. Everyone she meets wants to shag with her, even straight girls. I can't tell you how jealous I am. She can pick 'em according to mood.'

'But she has principles?'

'I'm not sure what you're driving at.'

'You made it sound as if I can trust her. To keep to our agreement, that is.'

'You can trust her. She never breaks a promise. As I said, you're more likely to crack than she is. Even more so, now you know that going girl-on-girl doesn't turn you into a vegetarian man-hater.' Pause. 'Or has it?'

'Ha, ha,' said Ingrid. Surprising herself, she slid her right hand up Rachael's leg, onto her hot pussy. Her very hot, very wet pussy. She could feel the other girl's arousal. Touching her was thrilling too. The arousal definitely worked both ways.

'Mmmm,' went Rachael. 'Go for it, girl!'

Hesitantly, Ingrid obliged.

*****

At last, thought Heather. The real confessions are about to begin.

'Carrie was in her room,' said Alex, 'on her bed. If I said she was dishabille I'd be lying. She hadn't got a stitch on her and it was obvious what she'd been doing. Not that she denied it. We know when each other's lying so there's no point in even trying. She just scowled at me and asked what I was doing back so soon.'

'And?' Heather prompted.

'And that's about it. She kicked me out of her bedroom and told me never to come back.'

'What about that incredible excitement? Did you ever experience it again?'

'Not as exhilaratingly as that first time. I think we both tried to tune each other out after then.'

'Interesting,' said Heather, 'but hardly earth-shattering.'

'There's more.'

'Pray do tell.'

'Time passed and Carrie began going out with boys. Needless to say, she began dating long before I did, just to spite me. She probably had twenty dates before I had my first. She didn't have everything her own way, though. Mother may have neglected us a little bit, but she could do strict if she wanted to. There was no meeting elsewhere. Carrie's date always had to come to our house to collect her, turning up promptly and presentable and ready for a grilling before the young lady made her grand entrance. Usually she pre-warned them and they pulled it off, but one guy turned up in a battered leather jacket, smoking what looked like a spliff. The door was slammed in his face, PDQ.'

Alex rechecked his watch. 'I sometimes tried to tune in when Carrie was on a date, but I never could. Maybe trying to tune out for a year blunted my ability. All I ever got was a nervous sort of feeling, but that was probably just me being a caring brother. And I was. I always stayed up until she was safely home at or before ten o'clock. Early on, she would never discuss events in detail. If I got "cinema" or "bowling alley" I could consider myself lucky. Then, one night, she paid me a visit. Boy, was she wired!'

'Hang on. Was that a bed sort of visit?'

'It certainly was. And her bumps and curves were reaching their prime. It was hard work trying to listen. And I didn't have to try to sense her excitement. She had fires burning inside her.'

'Had she . . .'

'She said not. I didn't know whether to believe her or not. But she wanted us to . . . to . . .'

'Jack and jill together?'

'How did you guess?'

'I'm renowned for hunches.' Heather laughed. 'It was also pretty obvious.'

'I refused and she got very snotty.' Alex sighed. 'Are you really okay listening to this?'

'There's more? Do press on. I'm all ears.'

'There are a couple of final confessions, and they're bad ones. Are you absolutely certain you want to hear them?'

'Mais naturellement.'

'Time has moved on again. It's now our eighteenth. Mother has arranged a party for us, but not a fancy ball like last night. No, Mother's hired the village hall, which is rough and ready but fits the purpose very well. Locals call it "The Institute" and it has plaques outside, listing men who died in world wars. It's big inside, which it has to be; we've invited just about everybody in the Sixth Form and they've all turned up. Well, you know what eighteenths are like . . .'

'I probably don't,' said Heather. 'My school was single-sex. We had an all-boys school next door and there were dances from time to time. Shared between schools, I mean. But there was never a bar and there were chaperones everywhere you looked.'

'That sounds like our school discos. Eighteenths were arranged privately, though. Bars were a must and drunks were being carried out every ten minutes.' Alex laughed. 'At ours we had two dedicated drivers, armed with their mums' cars. They were ferrying the drunks home all evening. For some reason we all thought drunks should be ferried home straightaway. Letting them sober up wasn't an option. It was better to get them home to face the music.

'Mother did attend that party, along with her friend, Claudia. But they didn't stay long. Maybe they were afraid somebody would spew all over their Jimmy Choos. Anyway, quite early on Mother said goodbye and they went off to the golf club, telling us not to wait up. In a way that was the signal for the party to really begin.'

'Don't tell me it ended in a drunken orgy.' Heather's tone was hopeful.

'Yes and no. There was the usual copping off. Would-be couples who'd been flirting for weeks finally taking the plunge. And would-be couples who'd been flirting for perhaps as long as ten minutes taking the plunge, come to that. And there were a few spectacular bust-ups, too. An eighteenth isn't an eighteenth without at least one long-running pair of lovers splitting up.'

'I'm assuming you didn't cop off yourself.'

'No, not me. I stayed more or less sober and helped the custodian see everyone safely off the premises. That wasn't a very big job. He always locks up The Institute at ten thirty on the dot, whatever the occasion. By eleven I was in my bedroom, taking off my suit.' He laughed again. 'You could call it my birthday suit, I suppose. A nifty three-piecer that really was my first-ever. I'd just got the jacket on a hanger when Carrie came in.'

Alex more than hesitated, he almost dried up. At last, visibly pulling himself together, he went on: 'She'd brought champagne. I'd expected that, because she'd told me there was a bottle waiting on ice. But I'd also expected her to be wearing more than she was.'

'This is more like it,' said Heather. 'What was she wearing?'

'A tiny pair of black lace knickers.'

'Is that all?'

'Knickers and a smile. Nothing else.'

Heather grinned. 'As I said, this is more like it.'

'I was stunned,' said Alex. 'I hadn't expected such behaviour. Particularly not that night, when a few drinks had been drunk. Okay, I was used to her ways. She often strutted around in the altogether. I'd seen her naked thousands of times . . . But never with that sort of smile on her face.

'"Call that straight!" she said, pointing at my jacket. "Drink this while I hang it properly."' Alex coughed and averted his eyes 'The rest of it's hard to explain.'

'I understand,' said Heather reasonably. 'Cut to the chase if you want.'

'Okay, so one minute I was standing there in two thirds of my new suit, the next I was in my boxers and she was proposing a birthday kiss. No, she was proposing an eighteenth birthday kiss. And it soon became obvious she didn't expect a peck on the cheek. She went for it big-time. I shut my eyes and let her get on with it. Ten seconds later we were naked in bed, with no in-between. Can you believe that?'

'Happens to me all the time,' Heather admitted.

'But not with your sister. Or brother.'

'I don't have either, so no.'

'The kissing was good. Very, very good. Then she said virginity had become old hat. We were legally of age for absolutely everything . . . had been for over ten hours . . . and tonight had to be the night. I didn't really believe she was still a virgin, but . . . but . . .'

'But you hadn't really been driving girls off in droves.'

Alex blushed. 'I'd had my moments without going all the way. And Carrie kept telling me she'd saved herself, so we could be each other's first. Then, totally naked, she produced a condom out of thin air. And that was too much. I . . . I . . .'

'Shagged her?' Heather suggested.

'This is Carrie I'm talking about. She shagged me.' Alex shook his head. 'She's nearly as hot for it as you.'

'Should I take that as a compliment? Is another below job in order?'

'I haven't finished my story yet.'

'First time I've ever been turned down in favour of a story. But go on.'

'Carrie was laughing when we finished. I don't think she was laughing at me, not exactly, but she certainly wasn't laughing with me. "I was always going to be your first," she said. "We can do it again, if you want. But next time it's happening in my bed."

'She took her champagne and left me lying there, staring at the ceiling. I don't know how long I stayed like that, tempted one moment and terrified the next. Then, while I was still plucking up courage to visit her, Mother arrived home. I didn't let that put me off. I waited until she went to bed and crept across the corridor, into Carrie's room. She was awake, sipping bubbly and smiling that smile again.'

Heather was smiling a smile of her own. 'Did she let you be the man that time?'

'Yes and no.'

'Tempus fugit, Alexander. Tell me.'

Alex gulped. 'She'd got a dildo from somewhere. Probably off one of her friends. By then we were in the Upper Sixth, back in the same classes but not sitting next to each other. Not often, anyway. We moved in different circles. My mates were all sports mad, God knows what hers got up to.

'Anyway, she had her own plans. "Here's the deal," she said. "You really will like it. First I'm going to suck you, then I'm going to fuck you. Then you're going to go down on my pussy. After that, if you're still capable, you can fuck me."'

Alex did dry up at that.

'So that's what happened?' Heather asked.

He nodded.

'And that was it?'

'No,' he muttered. 'We've been fucking each other ever since. And now I'm in thrall to her for ever and ever.'

*****

Heather classed herself as being a strong woman, by no means blinkered and never afraid to speak out. Alex's tale was too much to take without putting in her two pennies' worth. She seethed at the injustice of it.

'Let me get this straight,' she said, 'Your sister took your virginity twice in one night, bullying you into letting her use a dildo on you.'

'It didn't take a lot of bullying.'

'That's not my point. She already knew you wanted to . . .' Heather paused then decided the F word was, for once, appropriate. 'She had already taken your virginity on her own terms. And she knew you desperately wanted to fuck her in return. And, knowing that, she made sure you paid a steep price.'

'Hev . . .'

'No, come on Alex, you wanted to fuck her, didn't you?'

'Yes,' he admitted miserably. 'I still do.'

'Has she used her dildo on you again?'

'She uses it on me every time we sleep together.'

'Up your ass?'

'Yes. Where else?'

Yet another thought struck Heather. 'Good grief Alex, tell me you don't still live with her!'

'I do. But I don't spend every night there.'

'Jesus Christ! She's been abusing you for three years!'

'I do quite like it. Particularly since she graduated to strap-ons. That's why she hates Rita, by the way. Because she knows Rita preferences.'

'I think you're deluding yourself, Alex. Answer me this: Did you go to the football trials? When Carrie was sexually excluded, I mean.'

'Yes.'

'And did you get selected?'

'Yes and no. Sometimes I was in. Sometimes I wasn't. Usually I was on the bench.'

'But you did get on the pitch, as often as not?'

'More often than not, I suppose.'

'That's it then.' Heather reached out and squeezed Alex's balls again. And not in a matey way at all. 'She's been the one with these all along. But they're not enough for her; not everything she wanted. She wanted this as well.'

Alex yelped when she flicked his willy with what, for her, was almost contempt.

'You don't see it, do you?'

'Yes I see what you're saying. Not having a cock kept her out of the team. But she didn't want one; she hasn't a gay bone in her body. And anyway, why would she take it out on me? I was always on her side.'

'Sure you were. For the last three years you've let her practice fucking and blowjobs on you. And she taught you how to lick her clit. As if that was any hardship for her!'

'Hev . . .'

'Don't Hev me when I'm having a rant. She's wrapped you round her pinkie since the day you were born. Your sexuality is messed up because she likes to assert her superiority by fucking you every way possible. By sheer chance you like being fucked, so God only knows how that will end. And God knows what hang ups you'll have forever after.'

'So what do I do?'

'Move out,' said Heather. 'Yesterday.'

'I can't. Mother's paying the rent. We've the rest of this term to go.'

'And then?'

'We're both doing voluntary work overseas.'

'Where?'

'She's doing South America, starting in Peru. I'm bound for Africa.'

Heather's indignation dropped a notch. 'Promising,' she conceded. 'Can she switch at the last minute?'

'I don't think so. You need visas and inoculations and all sorts.'

'Check it out. If it can be done, do it yourself. Transfer to China or somewhere, and don't let on to Carrie. Go to sleep on a night imagining her showing up unexpectedly in Chad while you're half the world away. Okay, next question: What happens after voluntary overseas?'

'Carrie's already got a job lined up in London. She starts in the new year.'

'Where's she going to live?'

'With a friend, to start with. While she sorts out an apartment.'

'Alex, I can't tell you how sincerely I mean this. I'm no psychiatrist, but get yourself away from her as soon as you can. Stick it out for one last term if you absolutely must, then get yourself overseas. And when you come back, get yourself a job miles away from London. Once you've made the split, you must never sleep under the same roof as her again.'

'That's what you'd do, is it?'

'No. If I were you I'd go home and smack her face. Then I'd rip off her clothes and fuck her every which way. Then, when she's sobbing and begging for mercy, I'd throw her out naked and wish it would snow. Not that I'm recommending you to do that. I'm a girl; I could possibly get away with it. You'd be open to a charge of rape. And with you being her brother that could be quite serious.'

'I could never do that to her, anyway.'

'I know you couldn't.' Heather hesitated. 'But you could still go home and smack her face. And smacking her ass red raw would be gratifying. Can't you see how she's manipulated you?'

'I quite enjoy licking her clit.'

'Alex!' Heather gave him a dig in the ribs before noticing he was hard again. At last! Meaning at last she'd noticed!

'I like having my clit licked,' she said, her tone low. 'Especially by you, even if you haven't had a really good, lengthy go at me yet. Carrie's got you tongue-tip perfect, hasn't she?'

'Hev . . .'

'Stop Hev-ing me when I'm being romantic.'

'Romantic?'

'Oh yes. You'll find my deals much more democratic than Carrie's. Tongue-tip me and then you can do what you like. Anywhere and as many times as you like. The more the merrier, in fact.'

Alex looked unsure but Heather wasn't fooled. He was one of that very rare breed: an honest, straightforward man. One who Carrie had easily ruled the roost over. Heather would probably have ruled over him, too, if he'd been her brother. Without being such an utter bitch about it, of course.

Smiling, she lay back on the settee and spread her legs. 'Come on, Alexander,' she crooned. 'Get your tongue-tip in gear.'

Then the door opened, letting in the smell of takeaway Chinese.

'Well,' Rita cried, 'that looks cosy!'

*****

Rachael couldn't fault Ingrid in any way. Her initial hesitancy had lasted perhaps a minute and then she was shagging like a benevolent she-devil. If Rachael had been asked for advice (not that she'd been consulted in any way) she would have said, "Do unto others . . ."

Ingrid had obviously worked the tactics out for herself. Her touch was perfection, guaranteed to bring bliss. And the skill of her . . .

God knows what she'll be like with a bit of practice!

Rachael had hoped for kisses and caresses. She'd never expected the series of ardent below jobs. Inga won't fancy the taste, she'd thought.

Wrong!

Inga had tried the taste and showed all the signs of loving it. Even now, umpteen cums after she'd withdrawn her fingers and gone in with her tongue, she was probing away. Probing and probing and probing.

'Enough,' Rachael gasped. She grabbed Ingrid's long blonde hair and tugged, pulling her up over her own body until they were nose to nose. Tits to tits.

'Good grief lass,' she said, unconsciously mimicking Heather, 'that was nice.'

Ingrid grinned down at her. 'Is it your turn again?'

'Don't say you don't need a rest.'

'A lot of negatives in there.' Ingrid laughed. 'I think it makes sense, though. And no, I don't need a rest.'

Rachael snorted. 'I need a pee.'

'Use the en suite. I'll wait right here.' Then, eyes shining, 'You can teach me how to sixty-nine the girlie way. That always looks good in videos.'

'Let me up, then.'

Still grinning, Ingrid rolled off her.

'This world tour,' said Rachael, standing and stretching her slim legs. 'Where is it after you've done France?'

'Spain, Portugal and Spain again. Then back into France and all points east.'

'I'll give you France the first time . . . at a push . . . but you won't get past Bilbao.'

'What do you mean? Before I encounter Hurricane Heather?'

'No, Inga my darling. Before Hurricane Heather encounters you.'

CHAPTER SIX

(Sunday, 21st April 2002)

Somehow Heather got through yet another night with very little sleep. The three of them had been busy again. If memory served her right Alex had dropped off around two in the morning. Rita had heroically carried on for another hour and then they'd flaked out together, literally in each other's arms. They were all awake again now, though. Awake and back at it, even if Alex had been obliged to take an early timeout. He was currently spectating from ringside, sitting in the chair that normally lived in front of Rita's mirror. Heather was lying as submissively as she could while Rita took her on a switchback tour of cums. Rita's switchback tours were simply awesome. Her version of Venus Butterfly definitely wasn't designed for anything as tame as the "one hour orgasm".