Loving Made Easy

'I want you to see,' she explained.

At that moment all I could see was the head of my bed. I tugged my bonds experimentally and found them secure.

'Nice professional job,' I confirmed. 'Now you can take me any way you want.'

She retreated to the toy drawers and came back to the bed wearing a black, authentically penis-shaped dildo in a harness. No, make that a rather large, penis-shaped dildo.

I gulped inwardly. She hadn't lubed up and I was regretting my "any way you want" invitation.

'I must owe you hours and hours of attention,' Lizzie said softly, kneeling behind me, running the toy up and down the cleft between my glowing buttocks.

'Take what you want,' I replied bravely. 'I'm at your mercy, after all.'

Turned out she wanted me vaginally, but she kept me on hooks a while, repeatedly stroking my cleft, using a finger to circle my asshole.

The little tease!

After a stretching eternity of a build-up suddenly she was inside me. And it was sudden indeed. I had no lingering attention paid to my favourite area at all. One moment she was stroking my cleft and the next she was all the way in me.

It felt good, though: the harness against my slapped cheeks, that unmistakeable sense of fullness and yet more squelchy sounds as she struck up a rhythm.

And what a rhythm! Keeping it simple, she did me in sets of three.

Hard, harder, hardest!

Hard, harder, hardest!

'Oh yes,' I endorsed, 'oh yes please!'

At that stage of our relationship I hadn't mentioned my wave theory. And I didn't need to mention it right then. Lizzie seemed well capable of working out my likes and dislikes.

Hard, harder, hardest!

Hard, harder, hardest!

Oh yes, she had me sussed all right.

Hard, harder, hardest!

Hard, harder, hardest!

Somehow I made it through a whole series and yes, my seventh wave was as tidal as that giant one of hers. It literally bowled me over, knocking me from my ass-wiggling, whore's position flat onto my face on the bed, the scarves severely testing my arm sockets in the process.

Lizzie rode my collapsing body like a champion surfer, keeping the dildo buried deep in me, her sumptuous breasts pressing against my shoulder blades as she stretched herself out.

She took every care to keep on me and deeply in me.

Yes, she took every care to give me everything I wanted; everything and more.

I screamed approval at the change of angle of penetration.

'Yes, yes, yes!!'

And off she went again.

Hard, harder, hardest!

Hard, harder, hardest!

Better yet, her hands crept around me, grabbing my boobs.

Oh yes, grabbing them as tight as she'd earlier grabbed me around the waist.

I tried using the mattress springs in a bid to contribute but soon gave up. In my new position my arms were fully extended and essentially useless, the muscles in my legs had somehow turned to string. Quite frankly I was powerless. I simply could not resist.

And on Lizzie went, on and on.

Hard, harder, hardest!

Hard, harder, hardest!

Yes, yes, yes!!

*****

Believe it or not, we took time out to sleep during the early hours of Sunday. I woke to find Lizzie on her back beside me, watching our naked reflections in the overhead mirror.

'That is so kinky,' she said by way of hello. 'It's just a shame your lovers spend most of the night in blindfolds else facing the wrong way.'

'I got it for long, lonely nights alone,' I told her truthfully. 'It adds a new dimension to some solitary pursuits, if you know what I mean.'

Her eyes widened at that. 'Are you admitting masturbation, Heather darling?'

'All girls jill,' I said, not at all defensive. 'I do it a lot. I play a lot on my own and I play with umpteen toys, too. And the odd session of phone sex is not unheard of.'

'Right you do; for sure.'

'For sure I do. Please don't pretend you never indulge.'

Cue a moment or two of introspection.

'Of course I indulge,' Lizzie said finally, 'I indulge in all of those things. I just don't usually admit it. And I could never admit it as readily as you.'

'Who do you have phone sex with?'

She shrugged. 'It has varied over the years.'

I chuckled. No way could Lizzie be over thirty. Or maybe even twenty-five. How many "years" had she been active? It had to be ten at the most; maybe only six or seven. Compared to me she was young, sweet and innocent. Yet here she was, talking as if she was Salome.

'How about Dave,' I asked aloud. 'Is she into phone sex?'

'She's into everything that doesn't involve blokes. And don't quote me on that. I'll deny I said it.'

I frowned at the warning. 'So she really has a gold star?' I asked, wanting to be totally sure 'She's into everything with girls, nothing at all with guys?'

'You got it in one. What about Kat? What's she into?'

Something in Lizzie's voice betrayed her. 'Are you asking out of personal interest,' I asked, playful all of a sudden, 'or is it just idle curiosity?'

Cue another moment or two of introspection. No, cue the longest hesitation between words Lizzie had probably ever had, anywhere, ever.

It lasted maybe a whole three seconds.

'A bit of both, I suppose,' she ultimately tittered. 'Listen to me fib! You know I gave her my card.'

I stared at her a moment.

'We're all young, footloose and fancy-free,' she went on. 'Am I right or not?'

'Yes,' said I, 'that was what we agreed earlier. And it still holds true.'

'And so what does knowing that imply?'

'It implies that I know you fancy Kat.'

'Yes, correct. I am guilty as accused.' Lizzie held out her hands like a girl about to be cuffed.

Where oh where was DC Stuffypants when I needed her!

'Personal interest then,' I nodded. 'I can't say I blame you. Kat's fun to be with as well as good-looking and stacked.'

'You don't mind?'

'No, I don't mind. I'll even put in a good word for you.'

'Thank you.'

Then, genuinely wanting to know, I asked: 'How did you and Dave meet?'

Lizzie tittered again. 'Incredibly enough she needed her nails doing.'

'Makes sense, but what's so funny?'

'Normally Dave doesn't give a fig about her nails. But she had to be chief bridesmaid at an all-girl wedding. And she climbs cliffs. So her nails were . . . Well, they were less than perfect.'

The all-girl wedding aspect sailed over my head. 'She climbs cliffs,' I echoed.

'Yeah, she's quite the action woman is Dave. That's one of the reasons she pulls like a tractor.'

I frowned at that. As a former-farm girl jokes about tractors were supposed to be mine.

'Anyway,' Lizzie went on, captivated as always by the sound of her own voice, 'hopeless case or not, I trimmed her off and fitted her with extensions that were good for a day or two. She played a starring role at the wedding and came back to give me a . . . a sort of bonus payment.'

'Are you saying she paid your bonus with sex?'

'Yes, she rewarded me with lashings and lashings of sex.'

This time I tittered with her. Mouthy or not, there was something addictive about Lizzie.

Maybe it was the hours she'd passed taking me from behind.

Or maybe it was just her.

Face it; what did being mouthy matter when a girl was young, physical perfection and bordering on being as horny as I was?

Girls like that didn't grow on trees, did they? Not on any of the trees on Hunters Farm, anyway.

Chapter Six

'Explain, please,' I prompted, 'you and Dave; Dave and Kat; how does it work?'

Lizzie giggled girlishly. We were still on our backs on the bed, my right hand on her fanny, her left on mine. We weren't actually fingering, not yet, but we were closely watching our reflections. That is to say she seemed to be watching my face but my eyes were all over her, studying every inch.

(I know I said I don't objectify but Lizzie really was worth looking at all over. And that snooze had revived me. I was getting more randy by the second.)

'Explaining me and Dave is easy,' she began, 'We are mates who like to have sex now and then. Dave and Kat . . .'

Lizzie drew in the biggest breath ever drawn in anywhere, anytime.

She wasn't lost for words, though; not her.

'Dave talks in her sleep,' she continued. 'Not all the time, but now and again. If I'm with her I listen in, naturally.'

'Naturally,' I agreed.

'And it's always all about Kat. Officially she hates her guts. In practice she dreams about nobody else. Kat is all that she ever says. Listening in I hope to hear the odd Lizzie, but it's Kat, Kat, Kat and not a peep about me. Know what I mean?'

I shrugged and sincerely hoped I didn't talk in my sleep. I came out with too much rubbish in the throes of orgasm as it was. Who knew what I might say in the throes of my dreams?

Trust me; let's not go there.

'I saw the way they were,' I ventured. 'The way they were when they met in the Buzzer; old times and all that.'

'Too right you saw it. Hatred wasn't on the agenda, was it? Well, not for so very long. And eff old times, they were itching for new times, both of them.'

I shrugged again and kept schtum (and ignored Lizzie's expanded version of "eff").

'No,' she persisted, 'it was only too apparent, wasn't it? All that forced politeness . . .'

'So where does the hatred fit in?'

'Well that's the twist in the tail, isn't it? Dave hates Kat almost as much as she loves her. If asked she would tell you it's always Kat's fault, that Kat keeps abandoning her go off on her travels. But in reality Dave can't say no to a pretty girl. And open relationships don't work so well when you are actually living together, do they?'

'You mean . . .'

'I mean eff reality; Dave's born to be open with every girl she ever meets.'

I shrugged. 'Can't say I've tried living together, but I suppose that could be awkward.'

'They're like a pushmi-pullyu, those two. They're full of contradictions.'

Thinking it over I reckoned Lizzie was right. Dave did hate Kat almost as much as she loved her. And ditto in the other direction.

I only wondered if the two of them realized it as clearly as Lizzie and me.

Then I laughed.

Of course they realized it. They'd got together and split a zillion times, hadn't they? That particular smoking gun didn't need Sherlock Holmes on its case.

Yes, they'd got together and split a zillion times. It stood to reason that they would do so again ad infinitum.

'No disrespect, Heather' said Lizzie, 'I want to get together with you again, and soon, but I still do have the hots for Kat. Assuming she'll give me time of day, would you mind awfully?'

The change of pace didn't throw me at all. I actually quite welcomed it.

'I already said I'd put a word in for you,' I said graciously, 'so go ahead; be my guest.'

'Are you going to have a go at Dave?' Lizzie grinned up at my reflection. 'I know you want to. So will you?'

What to reply? Sure I wanted to, who wouldn't. But the Kat angle was, to say the least, unusual. I was a lifelong member of the Good Girls Club. Whilst ready to prey at will on fellow singletons, I would never knowingly cheat with another girl's girlfriend.

Well, not unless they were both present at the time, and then it wouldn't be cheating, would it?

'Dave's not interested in me,' I said convincingly.

Totally unconvinced, Lizzie cackled like a witch.

Not that I suddenly disliked her, please understand. As I said one moment ago, she was growing on me. Her cackling like a witch only added to our basic attraction.

'Dave dotes on you,' Lizzie assured me 'Even screwed up about Kat, she was all over you in the pub. And what is it with you two, anyway? Have you been there before?'

'No,' I said indignantly. Then, recovering a degree of composure: 'We once worked together on a project; Dave on behalf of the Widget Company, me on behalf of WYB. She was very helpful. But there was no suggestion of any . . .'

Lizzie waved me away.

'I know, I know,' she said. 'Dave's infinitely cleverer than her pay band. She's a techie who ought to be a programmer. But, being a people person, she wants to stay where she is. And she thinks of her male colleagues as "Trekkies" not "techies". Guess why?'

'Because they are little boys who haven't grown up,' I replied. 'No, because they wish that they'd been little boys back in the sixties, when Star Trek was first broadcast.'

'Not just a pretty face,' Lizzie responded, 'and not just hot in bed.'

'I'm thinking of Lieutenant Uhura even as we speak,' I said softly, almost whispering.

'Now there's a lady to jill over,' Lizzie whispered back. 'Shame we've used all your dildos.'

That surprised me. I had loads of dildos but Lizzie was right; they were all currently discarded on the bedroom carpet.

Yes, all one thousand and one of them, enough to keep Scheherazade out of trouble forever.

'I'll stick them in the dishwasher while we're out for lunch,' said I, glad of the change of subject. 'In the meantime I'll show you a hundred and one ways to use a rabbit.'

'I already know thousands.'

'Oh you do, do you?' Grinning, I got up and retrieved two similar but not identical vibrators from my trusty middle drawer. 'Show me a few,' I said, passing her one.

'Get back on the bed then.'

'No Elizabeth, I can wait a while. Show me on you.'

Cue yet another moment of indecision.

'It'll be like phone sex,' I said encouragingly, 'except we won't need our phones.'

'I don't know if I can . . . if I can exhibit myself like that.'

'Of course you can. You go first then I'll go next. Then we can go together until opening time. And then I'll pile everything into the Whirlpool and call a taxi.'

'Why don't you go first?'

'I urgently need to watch you. And it's not as if I won't take my fair turn, is it? You can trust me to do my bit, can't you?'

'What if I need to watch you even more urgently?'

There was a pocketful of loose change on my bedside cabinet. Selecting a 50p coin I told her we had better toss for it.

'Heads you go first,' I said as I flicked, 'tails I get to choose . . .'

Chapter Seven

Monday morning and I was brooding about Dave, trying to balance my loyalty to Kat against the strong urge to get close up and personal with the sexy techie.

I had, by the way, been as honest as always when I told Lizzie that nothing untoward had gone on during our earlier association. I might occasionally screw crewmates at WYB but I'd never do anything like that with a business partner's crewmates.

I'd noticed Dave, however. Yes I'd certainly noticed her.

And some of my colleagues had mistaken her for a guy! No such myopic problems on my part. I had seen her for what she was on that unforgettable second glance: a strikingly beautiful woman who was at least bisexual and most likely lesbian.

How I'd bemoaned that business relationship!

But now our project had long since been successfully completed. Now there was no commercial reason to be hands-off.

Now there was only Kat.

Deciding to test the water, determined to be proactive, I sent Kat an early email, doing my best to make it upbeat and intriguing. Ten minutes later my landline rang and it was her.

Yes, she advised me after a little initial banter, her weekend had involved snowdrifts.

'There was hardly any snow down here,' I told her smugly. Then, even more smugly, I told her how I'd spent my weekend. She was appropriately impressed.

And then, with no prompting at all, she told me that Dave had her sights set on me.

In other words Kat confirmed what Lizzie had implied. And she hadn't confirmed it in envy or in a less than encouraging way.

Good grief, I had a bit of a goer on my hands after all!

I suppose part of me had expected Kat to be loved up. Indeed I'd half expected her to cancel our Wednesday night date so she could focus solely on her rekindled affair. Being suddenly assured we were all mature adults, free to do anything we liked . . .

Well it was promising, wasn't it? But I wanted to see Kat's eyes when she said she was cool with me dating Dave. I wanted to be positive she meant it and wasn't kidding anyone, especially not herself.

Under normal circumstances I would have suggested drinks that very evening; meaning drinks and a much more detailed chat. But Kat was unavailable. She was due to be overnighting in Croydon with Vic.

And how suggestive was that!

Not loved up at all, I concluded as Kat rang off. Vic had arranged that little jaunt with one end in mind and Kat knew it. And Wednesday with me was still on. Kat wasn't trying to distance herself from her other lovers. Dave might be back on her list but exclusivity wasn't an obvious issue.

*****

I thought about Dave a lot over the next couple of days. And, seeing that I'm committed to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I'll admit that I jilled with her in mind.

Cards on the table, I jilled with her in mind numerous times.

And I watched every last stroke in the overhead mirror as I did so.

It could happen, I kept telling myself. It really could happen.

At last it was six in the evening, Wednesday. Usually I arrived in the Potting Shed late, thanks to some urgent task or other at WYB. That Wednesday I made sure I got there early and had a large pinot waiting for Kat when she showed.

Kat pretended to swoon. 'I don't believe it,' she said in a passable imitation of Victor Meldrew.

Seated away from the madding crowd, I began cautiously, recounting my own weekend in detail. Not that I betrayed too many confidences. That wouldn't have been the done thing, would it? No, I implied all sorts but left most up to Kat's only-too creative imagination.

And what an imagination! Unlike Lizzie there was nothing young and innocent about her. No, she was almost as debauched as me.

Quelle surprise!!

'So,' Kat summarized, 'Lizzie not only survived, she scored highly in every respect.'

'We're doing it again this weekend,' I confirmed. 'So yes, she passed with flying colours.'

'We're doing again this weekend too,' said Kat, 'although at Dave's, not in The Lakes.'

'I take it you kissed and properly made up.'

'Yes, you take it correctly.'

I'd been watching her as we spoke, trying to read her thoughts. Zero luck with that. I had no clue what was going on behind the beautiful facade.

As an aside; Kat really does put herself down when it comes to looks. She can't be fuller of praise about me and Vic and more scornful about herself.

As if!

Ignore that. Her looks are fantastic and her body rivals a young Elle McPherson's, except hers is tanned to heck and back.

Take it from me, every guy in the world wants her, and so do most of the girls.

Objectify? Me!

Well okay, as I already indicated, sometimes a girl can't help but objectify, can she?

If you could see her you'd know what I mean.

If you could see her you'd want her too.

Moving on again . . .

Exhibiting superhuman strength, overcoming carnal needs, I shoved my baser instincts aside.

'Listen,' I said, leaning in close and almost whispering, 'don't feel obliged about tonight. If you're back together with Dave I'll understand. Just say the word and we can knock Wednesdays on the head.'

Kat's eyes widened in something approaching panic: 'No,' she said, grabbing my hand. 'Please don't kick me out of your bed before we've even got into it.'

I had hoped she would react that way. I'd had confirmation that Monday night had been a roaring success, you see. Not that Vic betrayed confidences any more than I did. I'd simply asked her if all went well and she'd said, "Yum, yum,' which is our code for absolutely excellent.

In other words I knew my beliefs about exclusivity were on target.

And it was onto the bed rather than into it.

Not that I was about to play on words. Not given an assurance like that.

No, all I needed to do now was bring Dave into the game.

*****

I got my chance around three hours in. We were on my bed, me on my back, Kat still aboard me, both of us drenched in sweat and breathing raggedly. Taking a leaf out of my book, Kat had just been in hurricane mode and we needed a moment out to recover.