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Author’s note: This story follows on from “Crossing the Divide” but has been written (I sincerely hope) in a way that makes it readable in its own right. No need to backtrack, then, so let’s get on with it.
Onwards and upwards!
Naomi had finally ridden long enough to run out of orgasms. Literally collapsing off Heather’s face she rolled onto her back and laughed breathlessly.
‘Omigod,’ she gasped, ‘sex has never been better.’
And that was for sure. Two nights with Hev, virtually no sleep at all . . . and her batteries had all been miraculously recharged. Well, she corrected herself, mock-sternly; presumably I’ve had no sleep at all . . . I certainly don’t remember any.
Whatever the truth in that, without a shadow of a doubt, she currently had no spare cums at all.
Officially “straighter than straight”, she’d been attracted to other girls for some time, Heather Hunter in no way excluded. Yes, she’d watched girl-on-girl videos, progressing from mild, mere interest to being ready, willing and able to bring herself off in time with the actresses.
That’s all it had been until Friday. Friday had seen every student’s dream: a party with a free bar for at an hour at least, maybe even two.
Needless to say everyone had gone crazy, horrendously abusing the hospitality. By some act of God Heather had been dateless (“I’m out on the pull,” as she’d put it), and between them they had quaffed a ridiculous amount of fancy cocktails before dancing the rest of the night away.
Or, if the photos Naomi had seen later were anything to go by, snogging and groping the night away.
Good grief, as Hev would say, hadn’t they snogged! Hadn’t they groped!!
They’d shagged too, back at her place after the party was over. Naomi had woken Saturday morning in a state of denial, disputing everything like an under-fire politician. Yet, deep down, she had known. Deep down she was aware she had crossed divides, burning bridges behind her as she went.
At first she’d been angrily stubborn. Left alone that stubbornness had turned to guilt. And by Saturday afternoon the guilt had gone altogether, leaving her wishing she had total recall.
Right now, Sunday lunchtime, she only wondered why it had taken her so long to take the plunge.
One glance at her latest bed-mate warmed her heart. Male bed-mates tended to be unshaven and in a hurry to be somewhere else. Hev was a picture of sheer beauty. Leastways she was if you liked to see a girl coated in the fruits of sex.
It was impossible not to snigger. Far from an expert on the subject, Naomi knew instinctively what she was seeing: it was a blend of her saliva and Hev’s juice. And it was coating that beyond delightful face and lower, onto her simply incredible, self-supporting tits.
That’s us, Naomi thought with a delicious shudder. That’s a blend of me and her.
‘You have to be the most experienced virgin I’ve ever slept with.’ Heather sighed as she stretched her relatively recently unfastened arms.
‘I never said I was a virgin.’
‘You did when it came to girls. And whatever you were or weren’t, you’re still dynamite in bed.’
Naomi suspected her new lover was referring to the last half dozen hours.
Half a dozen hours! She’d been the active partner for quarter of a whole day!! What’s more, her vastly experienced “victim” had enjoyed every last second.
(That being after Hev had given her quarter of a day of exceptionally close attention first, of course.)
‘I just tried to do for you what I always wished men did for me,’ Naomi said primly.
‘They all say that,’ Hev countered. ‘And why are you rubbing your wrist?’
‘It’s still tired from . . . from . . .’
‘Shagging me repetitively with various dildos?’
‘Well yes, if you put it as bluntly as that.’
‘What about the rest of you? Is anything else tired?’
‘Not in the slightest.’
‘No, you don’t look it. Fancy sharing my double-ender? It’s about the only toy you haven’t experienced yet. Apart from me wearing a strap-on, I mean. Just lately the fun’s been all one-way.’
Naomi’s stomach rumbled before she could respond. ‘I think I’m in need of sustenance,’ she said, her tone apologetic, secretly worrying about her exhausted supply of cums. ‘But we could come back here later, if you want.’
Hev snorted at that.
‘Assuming you don’t have any prior engagements,’ Naomi added hastily.
‘I’m engagement-free this afternoon, so you’re more than welcome.’ Hev snorted again. ‘You refused me a shared shower at yours yesterday. Are you going to refuse me again?’
Naomi’s grin almost split off the top of her head.
‘Just try keeping me out of the bathroom,’ she retorted.
Showering together was great fun and, thanks to Lady Luck, Naomi hadn’t run out of cums after all. That was just as well because Hev’s showers apparently lasted an hour or more.
And oh my, wasn’t the feel of her washing a girlfriend’s back special. That sensation canlı bahis was almost as good as getting to wash those incredible tits of hers.
Hands fuller than full . . .
Yes, yes, yes!
‘The Union Bar,’ Hev announced as, back in her bedroom, they dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
‘I fancy an all-day breakfast,’ Naomi objected, well aware she was clad as a tart in a sliver of a skirt, sheer nylon stockings and a blouse that hardly had any buttons on it at all. And that Heather looked her usual million dollars in student togs, except attractively tough with it.
Athletic, perhaps vaguely masculine, ultimately gorgeous girls like Hev shouldn’t be allowed to be, fit or not.
No, scrap that. Every girl should look and behave like Hev. Such a miracle could only turn the world into a better place.
‘And they don’t do them in there,’ Naomi moaned on, ‘the best we’ll get is a couple of bacon butties.’
‘They’ll do us fry-ups if I ask. At least, Gloria will.’
Naomi blinked at that. Gloria was the world’s most proficient barmaid; one who took zero crap from anyone. Guys twice her size did a runner as soon as she rounded on them, scornful of their laddish behaviour. She was also significantly older by student standards . . . even most of the mature ones. In her case age only added to authority.
George Foreman would have backed off from her, and with good reason. So too would Ali, because whatever else he was, he was no man’s fool.
Gloria wasn’t simply an adornment; she was a force of nature . . . and a significant one at that,
‘Surely you haven’t,’ Naomi ventured.
‘I couldn’t possibly comment on such a wild accusation. But she is a gas is Gloria. And she would do anything for me.’
Fuck, thought Naomi, what have I got myself into?
Then logic kicked in and she responded with a (she hoped) sensible question.
‘Will she, even with you having me in tow?’
‘Hey, she’ll be first in the queue for the rest of your journey.’
‘I mean the journey to the rest of your life, what else?’ Hev replied confidently, but then, for once she hesitated.
‘Unless you have regrets,’ she added.
‘I only regret waiting so long,’ Naomi replied truthfully. ‘I honestly believe I’m converted.’
Heather gave her a searching look. ‘Please say it’s not just me.’
‘It’s not. I’ve been fancying other females for quite a while now.’
Hearing that made Hev laugh out loud: ‘Just you wait until we get to The Union,’ she said. ‘You will be deluged in proposals and invites.’
‘Will I get a round of applause?
‘Trust me babe, I can guarantee it.’
Walking the short distance from Hev’s place back to the university’s main building, arm-in-arm, Naomi let her mind go out. She had been telling the truth when she had said she had no regrets, apart from very limited ones. And she’d been truthful when she’d admitted she hankered after other females too.
But just then she only hankered after one person on the planet: the one hooked to her arm.
Hev was notorious when it came to sex. She’d had boyfriends and girlfriends by the score. And few of them ever lasted although, judging by the rather unreliable evidence of the wags in The Union, a mere handful had been allowed back for seconds.
Maybe thirds or even fourths . . .
Except Naomi had a problem with Hev’s string of “boyfriends”; she was unsure if they really were fact or fiction.
‘Dare I ask,’ she began as they walked.
‘Ask away,’ said Hev, ‘whatever you want. I might even answer honestly.’
‘You and guys. . .’
‘Don’t do ’em anymore. Well, not in a goodly while, anyway.’
‘But you have done them?’
‘Course I have. It’s an inbuilt female instinct, isn’t it? Even if we know the instinct is crazy, we can’t always control it, can we? I’m only glad to be six months man-free.’
‘Six months man-free?’
‘By now it’s probably more like seven. But there you go.’
‘Girls are that much better, then?’
Cue a massive silence.
Then Hev responded.
‘Naomi, I might be the wrong person to ask. At thirteen I was sent off to an all-girls school in Cheshire. An aunt of mine predicted I’d get an extra A-level, and she was spot-on.’
‘Did you take more than four A-levels?’
‘I passed five official ones. The one my aunt was referring to was a sixth . . . A-level Cunnilingus.’
Despite herself Naomi tittered. She’d viewed hours and hours of female oral sex without suspecting there was an A-level available in it. If only she’d known!
‘We had an all-boys school next door,’ Heather went on, ‘but boys weren’t always available and never after lights-out. So we girls had to look after ourselves, didn’t we?’
‘I’m sure you did.’ Naomi agreed visualizing girls scurrying down corridors under cover of darkness, all intent on extracurricular activities.
Why oh why was I sent to the local comprehensive!
‘Sounds like great fun,’ she managed.
It was Hev’s turn to titter. ‘Trust me, darling, it was a lot bahis siteleri more than just fun.’
Heather took great care to keep linked up with Naomi as they arrived on campus, in spite of the girl’s ever-increasing nervousness, which was only too obvious. Or, more accurately, she kept tightly linked up because of that nervousness.
‘I’m with you all the way,’ she purred as they took a slow, creaking, and loudly complaining lift up to D floor. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
‘Apart from getting stuck in this lift,’ Naomi countered, ‘and an embarrassing round of applause.’
‘Consider it to be enlightening. And just think of all those proposals and invitations . . .’
‘I’m not sure I want to be proposed and invited.’
‘Don’t talk daft. You’re out of the closet and squillions of girls are going to be hammering at your door.’
‘Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.’
‘Too late my dear, here we are. After you . . . and remember to smile sweetly. Please let’s not pretend I let you down in any way.’
‘As if,’ Naomi countered vehemently. ‘Like I said, sex has never been better.’
‘In that case we’re in unison. Tell everyone whatever you like as long as it’s positive. I’ll back you up all the way. There’s no such thing as bad publicity. And, before you ask, I will back you up because it will all be true.’
Naomi glanced at Hev but she’d put her business head on. It was impossible to know exactly how she truly felt.
So what the heck . . .
Entering The Union with a fresh conquest was by no means unknown for Heather. She had done so a zillion times before and would probably do so a zillion times again. Call her callous, but the “newness” of the situation hardly registered anymore. And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t intelligent and considerate; it was more a matter of being realistic.
Girls liked girly sex . . . as simple as. Introducing a new lady to reality was always a pleasure.
And a pleasure shared . . .
Keeping her head to one side, averting Naomi’s eyes, Heather signalled to Lesbian’s Corner. Instantly that (unofficial but very real) part of the bar rose to its feet, maybe influenced by Hev’s dramatic facial expressions, maybe influenced by Naomi’s chest which, mostly unbuttoned again, was exploiting the right to roam.
As if Hev really needed to signal. And as if anybody failed to recognize the intent of them being there together, as a pair. Never mind a mere round of applause; they got the full standing ovation.
‘Oh shit,’ Naomi murmured into Heather’s ear, ‘out or what!’
Hev kissed her on the tip of her nose. ‘Think of all the possibilities,’ she murmured back. ‘Every girl in this room wants to shag with you . . . every last one. Give me a single reason why that’s a bad thing.’
Naomi scowled. ‘I’d prefer to shag with you,’ she muttered eventually. ‘But I know nothing is forever.’
Unexpectedly sympathetic, Hev kissed her again. ‘We have all afternoon ahead of us, ‘she said in her softest voice. ‘And who knows what follows?’
‘I’m not going to get ditched then?’ Naomi replied. ‘Two not out, and all that.’
‘You’re in for three already.’ Hev chuckled. ‘Four, five and six aren’t out of the question. Now remind me, whose round is it?’
It was actually Naomi’s but she’d have agreed anything at that moment. ‘Fancy a double colada?’ she asked.
Hev laughed with her. ‘Make it a treble.’
Ignoring Heather as a mere distraction, the next couple of hours were filled with a stream of girls who wanted to “date” Naomi. Tall, slender and athletic, she was a rather obvious target for interested guys and gals.
Well, delete the guys. Interested as they might be, guys were out of the equation.
Make that out by miles. Make that so far out no male even bothered risking the shoot-down
The stream of “interested” females was as good as endless. Having a reputation of being tough, Hev was amazed to be stepped around without regard for life or limb. Her, a girl capable of kicking all crap out of any guy on campus, ignored by a torrent of young ladies, keen to kiss Naomi’s feet and lick her . . .
Well, work it out for yourself.
Maxi was one of the first to approach them; Maxi currently hand-in-hand with the delightful Tricia; who was supposed to be (another) straight girl, devoid of any same-sex interest whatsoever.
‘Crossed over,’ Hev said to Tricia, wound up about being ignored, not sparing her in the least.
Tricia was about five foot nine with an hour glass waist and a rather alluring ass. She was also drop-dead gorgeous with long, straw-like blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Having her cross over was one massive boost for all of lusty womankind.
Annoying as she was, Maxi deserved a medal for cultivating her . . . seemingly in no time at all.
‘Too fucking true,’ Tricia said to Heather, visibly brimming enthusiasm. ‘The only downside that I can see is I’ve wasted years of my life.’
(Tricia wasn’t quite twenty yet. She was also clearly bahis şirketleri prone to over-egging things.)
Considerably older, Maxi chuckled. ‘Let’s just say we’ve made friends,’ she said to Heather. ‘And let’s say we’re not the only ones in town.’
‘Glad to see happy, kindred spirits,’ acknowledged Hev, rapidly running out of conversation, slightly concerned by the gleam in the former peace protester’s eye.
And she was right to be concerned, as things transpired.
‘Listen,’ said Maxi a little later, as Naomi and Trish headed off to the bar, ‘I have a cunning plan . . .’
Blatantly butch and proud of it, Maxi was a lesbian icon with a genuine gold star. Younger girls looked up to her in awe, not least because of her well-broadcast prowess between the bedsheets.
Or on top of the bedsheets . . . or in back streets, the back seats of cars and goodness knew where else.
Once upon a time Heather had overheard a couple talking about her. “If Maxi can’t bring you off then no-one ever will,” the first girl maintained. “She’s almost as dynamic as Angie . . . or Hev.”
Blushing dutifully (her embarrassment covered by her eternal tan), Heather had taken that opinion to be a compliment. At that time, old schoolmate Mary Rose aside, Angie had been by far and away her most accomplished lover. Randy Casanova on horn couldn’t possibly even begin to compete.
And why oh why had she forsaken a gold star of her own! Why oh why hadn’t she followed the course Mother Nature had intended for her?
Regrets were for losers, though, so she unreservedly ditched them. But ditching Maxi’s proposals was not so easy. The hard-faced, super sexy bitch was ridiculously persuasive.
In fact Maxi’s proposals had haunted her all the way home, all the way to her Sunday afternoon-silent bedroom. Only then had she found other things to think about . . . or to not think about.
Back there in the bedroom she and Naomi switched from Saturday night’s routine. Instead of stripping for each other they took turns to remove each other’s items of clothing, doing so deliberately and item by item, slowly, so very, very slowly.
Good grief, what fun!
They kissed, cuddled and caressed while they were at it, too. All memories of Maxi flit from Heather’s head, leaving her capable only of concentrating on the here and now, leaving her concentrating on so sweet Naomi and nothing else.
Not that that was any hardship. Leaving her newest lover in sleek nylons (again!), naked herself to the nth degree, Heather approached her infamous toy drawer, which was indeed packed with treasures.
Earlier she’d asserted they had used “everything” beside her double-ender. That was an exaggeration of course, “Exaggeration” being her middle name. They’d used every other “type” of toy but not all of them individually. And, as a matter of fact, all three of her double-enders had been unused.
(That is to say they were unused by her and Naomi; otherwise they had tens of thousands of miles on the clock.)
The choices were all crystal jelly: blue or green at twelve inches, red at eighteen. Being a considerate hostess, Heather went for the green one.
No, scrap that. She wanted to bump groins with Naomi; eighteen inches probably wouldn’t have fully served her purpose.
Bumping groins was right up there on her list of favourite things . . . never mind raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens.
And wasn’t Naomi up for it! The girl was heavy-breathing already, like a steam train hot to break all of the Flying Scotsman’s countless records.
‘Okay,’ Heather began, ‘this is new for you so I’m in charge. And not least because I’m overdue being in charge, you cheeky mare.’
‘Are you going to put that inside me?’ Naomi wondered, a tad suspiciously.
‘Only after copiously lubricating everything in sight,’ said Heather. ‘We can be delicate down there . . . as if I’m talking to the unconverted. This morning you shagged me as though I was . . . was . . .’
Unusually, she stuttered to a halt. Strictly speaking, lashings of lube should have been applied for her strap-ons. But in practice lashings hadn’t been needed. In practice she’d managed to lube for herself.
‘Never mind the preliminaries,’ Naomi countered. ‘I’ve often used lube before and it’s always added to the occasion. Let’s just get on with it; lash me as much as you like.’
Suitably encouraged, Heather squeezed a few drops onto her palm and held it out.
‘Grind onto this,’ she commanded. ‘Vulva and labia; give it some zip.’
Naomi obeyed with gratifying ease and clearly enjoyed obeying. Her grinding was intense and her lots of moans and groans warmed Hev’s heart; so too did her multitude of sharp cries and small screams.
And the ecstasy on her face was unbelievably real.
As for sexual tension, the air in the bedroom was crackling, like a Van de Graaff generator let loose in an electric storm.
How cool was that!
No, forget cool, how startlingly exciting was that!
Ten minutes and Heather needed a few more drops herself (well, not really, it just felt like appropriate at that moment). After another ten minutes she dowsed two fingers of her trusty left hand before doing her utmost to lube her latest lover internally.
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