Two Sides to Every Story Pt. 01

Still avidly snogging her, I felt her fingers pushing aside my thong. A muffled whimpering noise was suddenly audible. It might have been Dave but could quite possibly have been me. Don't ask where it came from. Out of my nose, I guess. Or maybe I was using my previously undiscovered mastery of ventriloquism.

And then, thanks to another seamless time warp, we were in bed, clothes scattered carelessly. It was, Dave insisted, my turn to be pillow queen. Determined never to argue with her ever again, I lay back and took it.

Wow, did I!

I can honestly say Dave excelled that night. At one point she used a dildo on me, but that was only a brief interlude. Mostly she just used fingers and mouth, lips and tongue. And she obviously hadn't forgotten my first time with her. She isolated different parts of my sex and brought me off with them, one at a time, one after another. Not content with that, presumably thinking I hadn't been screaming loud enough, she then moved onto two different parts simultaneously. And, when I finally begged her to stop, she removed her specs and climbed on board.

Porn star mode, I thought dizzily.

'You don't really want me to stop,' she murmured, 'do you?'

Abruptly changing my tune, I begged her to fuck me; to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me.

So she did.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was just starting to get light when I woke with fires still burning inside me. Half asleep, Dave was compliant when I rolled her onto her back.

'Oh, okay,' she sighed, 'if you must.'

'I must,' I assured her, taking my turn to be the boarding party. 'Put your specs back on.'

Dave hoisted her legs, knees bent, allowing me to get where we both wanted me to be. Without as much as half a glance, she reached out and grabbed her glasses from the top of a bedside cabinet. As automatic actions go, it was up there in the impressive class.

'There,' she said, perching them on her sexy snub of a nose, 'is that what you want?'

'It certainly is,' I replied, starting to move.

Dave sighed again before hooking her ankles in the small of my back, fastening me there, letting me know I wasn't going anywhere else. I sighed as I began to rub against her, happy to be back in the old groove. Happy? I was ecstatic. It had been a while but our bodies still knew what to do.

Goodness gracious, didn't they just?

And exactly how wet were we both? Beyond our knees and down to ankles? Very possibly so.

Trumpet blowing time again: Dave might have excelled a little earlier, but I was beyond compare that morning. I quite quickly brought here off then, using every last ounce of skill, kept her there a while before gradually inching her higher and higher. She gasped out something about me being "far too good" but I carried on regardless, building up quickly myself now, racing her up from one plateau to another.

'Not yet,' I said repeatedly. 'Not yet.'

The experience was mind-blowing. Everything about it was heightened. Without wanting to sound mystic (or completely off my trolley), we seemed to beyond mere orgasm, soaring way up there in the stratosphere, approaching something even more precious.

It was the best fuck ever and it went on for ages: my hair-free pussy grinding on hers; her strong legs gripping me, her pussy always in motion, complementing my attentions; my decent-sized tits sliding up and down her flat, boyish chest; my hard nipples brushing her surprisingly large, just as hard nips.

And, best of all, we maintained eye contact for every last second. Did I tell you it was getting light outside? Well it was. When we started all I could see was the glint of her lenses. I had to use a bit of imagination. Then, as the minutes passed, I could see more and more. And more certainly was merrier. Staring into Dave's eyes was a sex act in itself . . . and staring into her eyes while I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her was absolutely ace. It always was with her. I've tried it with others and trust me, it's not the same.

*****

Our mutual climax must have measured at least nine on the Richter scale. I'm amazed buildings didn't collapse for miles around. And I'm not at all surprised we both fell asleep immediately after. In fact we might have both swooned, overcome by the catastrophic release of energy.

It was definitely a fuck to go down in my memoirs. If I'd kept a top ten it'd be in there at one with a bullet.

Brilliant sunshine woke me. I was still on Dave and she was still gripping me with her legs. She was awake too, amusing herself by running her fingers through my hair.

'What time is it?' I grunted. 'Are we late for work?'

'It's Saturday, so don't worry yourself about work. And it's about half past ten. Another hour and you can buy me lunch in the pub.' She chuckled. 'I'll make it worth your while if you do.'

I raised my head and took in our surroundings. It wasn't my bedroom so I supposed it must be hers. And it was nice, with an olde worlde feel to it. The walls were dazzling white and the ceiling even had beams running across it, boxed and painted dark brown. And that sunshine was coming in through a lovely divided window, complete with a dozen separate panes of glass.

(Yes, believe it or not, the sun is occasionally seen in a UK winter. We can have weeks on end of miserable cold and rain then, out of nowhere, we get a few days when coats aren't needed and some hardy folk are out in T-shirts).

'Where are we?' I wondered. 'And what sort of rent are you paying on a place like this?'

'We're in East Morton. And there isn't any rent; I'm the owner.'

I abandoned my inspection and looked back into Dave's eyes. 'It's a palace,' I said sincerely. 'I can't wait to see the rest of it.'

'It's a palace that comes with a mortgage.' Dave didn't seem concerned about the responsibility; she seemed proud to be a landed lady. 'And the rest of it might disappoint you. I've only got six rooms, and this is the first I've had modernized. The other five are still waiting their turn.'

'It's a cottage, right?'

'Yes, and I'm going to turn it into my dream home.'

'You've made a good start. And I'm sorry I didn't notice last night.'

'We were in a bit of a hurry,' she agreed, smiling.

I smiled back at her. 'I only wish we'd left the lights on.'

'We won't need lights this afternoon.' Dave favoured me with another throaty chuckle. 'We'll worry about leaving the lights on tonight. Assuming you want to weekend with me, that is.'

'You bet I do. I . . . Crikey! What was that?'

The loud clunk startled me. It came from directly below us. Dave tightened her leg-hold, stopping me from jumping out of my skin.

'It's only the postman,' she said.

'Does he always kick the door down when he makes a delivery?'

'It's the letter box, not the postie. I need to get a weaker spring.'

'And I need to get a medicinal brandy.' It was my turn to chuckle. Then, as the thought struck me: 'Are we likely to get anyone else barging in on us?'

'I take it you mean Phil. No, there's no likelihood at all. She's out of the equation. And why are you doing Cheshire cat impersonations, Katrina?'

'Because hearing that is the best thing that's happened to me since I got back. Apart from having you pinch my bum, that is.' I tried to stop grinning and failed miserably.

Dave seemed to think I wanted to know more. I already knew as much as I needed, but I listened to her anyway.

'Phil works in Further Advances,' she began. 'I met her on a team building day. That was a week or so before I handed in my notice. When I thought I would be at the building society forever. We got paired together in the morning and hit it off straightaway. Over lunch she told me all about her no-good boyfriend, and I told her you'd run out on me.'

Dave frowned at that, probably because I still had a goofy grin on my face. 'I thought I'd scared her off,' she resumed, 'with the lesbian confession, I mean . . . but she suggested a drink after the afternoon session, and one thing led to another.'

'As it does,' I observed.

'We hit it off in bed, too,' she went on, 'although I'm not going to give you any gory details. Let's just say we knew how to keep each other happy. Then, when we were starting to get serious, you showed up again, messing up my head and practically stalking me by email. I did my best to keep you at arm's length, but I couldn't stop thinking and making comparisons. Suddenly lots of little things about Phil were annoying me; things I'd previously found cute. I got bitchy with her and we started to argue. A month ago she said she'd had enough. And that was it.'

'Did she move in?' I wondered.

'Here? No, she slept over a couple of nights a week, but she never moved in. And, before you ask, she never got to sleep in this room, in my delightful new bed. I was in the spare bedroom while she was on the scene. It's a sort of overflow-cum-junk room at the moment.'

I laughed out loud at that. I didn't know this Philippa woman, but the idea of her having to settle for the junk room tickled me.

'What about you?' Dave asked. 'How long have you left on your latest lease?'

I must admit my heart lurched at that . . . but not in fear or alarm. Oh no, I was at the opposite end of that particular scale.

'Two and a bit months,' I said. 'Then I'll have to find somewhere for the next six, to see out Phase Two.'

'You've already found it,' said Dave. 'And if you're nice to me now, before you buy me lunch, you won't have to wait two and a bit months. You can move in tomorrow.'

'If I'm nice to you!' I pretended to groan. 'Oh, okay, if you insist . . .'

CHAPTER EIGHT

That second spell of co-habiting was a lifetime highlight. I know I keep coming up with way too many superlatives, but it simply was FAN . . . TAS . . . TIC. We had, to my memory at least, sex every single night. And it was unbelievably good sex; top quality stuff. The ongoing, severe sleep deprivation didn't stop us from smiling every minute of every day.

Key Phase Two overran by three weeks but, without a landlord on my case, that wasn't really a problem. Speaking of which . . .

Dave's mortgage was a little more than the monthly rent I'd been paying, but not much. She paid that and I paid for the weekly groceries, meals out and takeaways. All the other outlays, including petrol and insurance, were split fifty-fifty. Sponging? Me?

Sorry Darling Mikela, your case is as crumbly as Lancashire cheese.

And don't I just love letting you know it!

Travelling was, of course, very much on my agenda. I made a few half-hearted attempts to get Dave to go with me, but they were all doomed to failure. Dave had a cottage to restore and look after. Her Mini was coming up to its first MOT and she wanted to trade it in in advance (for yet another brand-new Mini, naturally!). She loved her job at the Widget Company even more than she'd loved her job at the building society. And (bizarrely, in my opinion) she had no urge to get out and away, meeting exotic people and experiencing new cultures and beliefs.

We were, I maintain, very adult in agreeing departure terms. First and foremost we agreed it was no more than a temporary separation; I was coming back and there was to be no doubt about it. We also agreed that the no contact rule was worse than useless. I would, therefore, ring her once a week (at 6pm GMT on a Friday) without fail. That would prove the connection was still as strong as ever and, more to the point, keep Dave aware of my movements and intentions.

The really adult agreement revolved around sex. I openly admitted that I enjoy one-nighters with partners I'll never see again. I also made it clear that, although that is a big part of the bug, it isn't the only reason I travel. Dave quite probably didn't understand my argument but did accept that sex was important and necessary.

'Safety is important to me,' she said. ''With men, I mean. If you promise me you'll never take any risks, I'll give you carte blanche.'

I managed not to scowl at that. To Dave a man is The Big Bad Wolf. All a man wants to do is to have unprotected sex, get a girl pregnant and hopefully give her herpes into the bargain. And she honestly doesn't believe a girl can catch something from another girl.

Fortunately, I'm a safe-sex adherent myself, and not just with men. I gave her every assurance in the book and told her to try a few flings herself.

'I will,' she said, 'and this time I won't form any attachments.'

I'll spare you The Travel Show breakdown of my overseas escapades. Suffice to say, I enjoyed a lot of sex while keeping safe. And I hardly had any big bad wolves at all.

This time my return was co-ordinated and no shock to anyone. My money started to run out early (as always!) and, after giving Dave a ten week countdown on successive Fridays, I duly landed at Leeds Bradford. Dave met me there, holding up a card with my name felt-tipped onto it, grinning, seemingly oblivious to the fact my flight was half-empty, there was hardly anyone else waiting for new arrivals and I couldn't have missed her.

I was glad to see her, though. Homecoming that night deserves a whole string of superlatives of its own!

I can sometimes be complacent, I know, but ask me if I'm bothered. Right then everything in my life was great. Even my working status had been restored, and long before I came back at that. I restored it with a long-distance call to Craig, maybe a fortnight in advance. Key Phase Three was still happening, he told me wearily, but I was welcome to chip in, there was no need to wait for the concluding phase to kick off. And as it happened, he had the Christmas party list in front of him at that very moment. Was it turkey again, or would I prefer beef?

So, it was straight back to the old routine: sex every night with Dave; smiling every minute of the day; splitting the monthly bills as evenly as we could. Only one thing had changed.

Dave had developed itchy feet.

No, she hadn't suddenly had a change of heart about travelling. She'd just got into one-nighters. Or, as I was soon to discover, she'd got into "new".

*****

I'd been back about two months and, as I said a moment ago, routines had been re-established. One of these revolved around Friday nights. We'd finish work, Dave would drive us to ASDA and I would shell out for a ton's worth of shopping. Then we'd retire to The Busfeild Arms for an early meal and several pints.

And please don't think there was any drink-driving. Dave's cottage was within a few yards of the pub and mein host didn't mind her using his car park. And why should he? We were two of his most regular, valued customers who didn't mind walking home with armfuls of carrier bags.

That Friday night was different. We were known to be lovers and, in the usual bohemian spirit of the village, nobody cared. The possibility of being ostracized was, frankly, impossible. Everybody was friendly towards us, whether we knew them well or not.

That night we were joined at our table by two strangers. Alice and Ross were, they told us, very much the newcomers. They'd only moved in a week or so ago but recognized us from last Friday. Were they intruding or could they make themselves at home?

Obviously, we said yes. The young couple were bright, bubbly and outgoing. Or, to be a lot more specific, Ross was dry and amusing and Alice was nothing if not drop-dead gorgeous. She also made no secret of the fact she saw us as a couple in our own right.

Great, I thought. Eye candy and friendly; who could ask for anything more?

Our "couples" relationship flourished through half a dozen Fridays, then leapt into life. Although the change in pace passed me by at first. Dave had to explain it to me later, snuggled up in bed.

'Alice wants a wife-swap,' she said, mere instants before I dropped into a deeply sated sleep.

'Me and her,' I said hopefully.

'Her and me,' said Dave. 'I quite fancy it, actually.'

My eyes reopened at that. 'Hang on; are you saying I'm your wife? That Ross gives you Alice and you give him me in return?'

'Yes, but purely for the sake of this exercise. You know me; I don't normally assign gender roles.'

'Not unless it means you get to bed the beautiful blonde,' I muttered.

'Come on, Kat, it'll be exciting. And you don't have the same problems I have with men.'

That was true on both counts. Dave swears she never has and never will fuck a real cock. I don't know where her stance stems from, but I had heard it many times before. I couldn't accuse her of making it up on the spur of the moment.

Dave and Alice had pencilled in the following Friday. The week in-between dragged and, as the day finally dawned, anticipation levels were sky high.

'I don't believe we're going to do it,' I told Dave as we finished our morning shower.

'I do,' she said, smirking, 'and I can't wait.'

The working day itself whizzed by and we raced round the supermarket, buying all the wrong things without noticing, creating our biggest ever bill. Then, leaving the shopping in the boot of Dave's Mini, we went into the pub.