Three Times a Lady

'I'm gonna cum,' said Abigail after a quick glance at the TV, possibly inspired by the larger-titted video blonde.

'So come on and cum,' Angie replied, her left hand frantically replicating the movement of Abs' right, 'I want to see you. I want to see you cum right now.'

If Abigail was faking she should have been on Broadway. Watching her was akin to watching one of the world's greatest performers performing at her best.

'You do it now,' she gasped, her hand still working away, her eyes constantly moving from Angie's tits down to her pussy and back up to her face. 'Go on, I want to see you cum as hard as me.'

It didn't take long and Angie came powerfully, although secretly she doubted she reached anywhere near the same heights.

Abs grinned at her and kept on masturbating.

'Together this time,' she said. 'Let's finish as one.'

Chapter Three

It took them a few efforts but they finally achieved a simultaneous orgasm, and a simply huge one at that. Then, as Angie gasped for breath on the bed, Abigail jumped up from her tuffet.

'We've smoked enough,' she declared. 'Let's have beers.'

Angie grunted assent. She didn't trust herself with more grass and seriously fancied a drink.

But Abs wasn't going immediately. Before heading off for the fridge she removed her jeans, bringing them level in the mostly-naked stakes. Then she held out her right hand, close to Angie's nose, letting her smell the scent of her sex.

Not to be outdone, Angie licked Abs' palm and then sucked her fingers, one by one.

'Pretty brave for a straight girl,' she remarked.

Abigail didn't flinch. 'Give me your hand,' she commanded.

Angie flexed and contracted inside as her fingers were sucked and licked.

'Even braver for a straight girl,' she said, blatantly staring at Abs' tits before inching her eyes down to her pussy. 'Why don't you hurry up with those beers? I want to watch more dirty movies.'

Abigail laughed. 'The movie finished half an hour ago, if you didn't notice.'

'So it did. I must want to watch more of you.'

'Okay, wait right here.'

Angie stared at Abs' ass as she strutted out of the bedroom. They were both reduced to no more than knickers and smiles now, and she for one wasn't complaining.

Does jilling together count as having sex, she wondered, or was it something straight girls sometimes did?

Then she remembered the finger sucking and laughed. That was sex all right. It counted as sex when she and Miss Pearce watched each other masturbate, and it counted as sex with Abigail.

It was the circumstances, obviously, but that finger sucking experience reached twelve out of ten on her erotic scorecard. There had been nothing "straight" about it; no way, Jose.

So what would happen next? Should she keep holding back or try to progress?

She was still dithering over her dilemma when Abs returned with two chilled bottles of Bud. Angie half-drained hers as soon as she got it.

'Do you have other videos?'

'I've got several sex ones, but most of them wouldn't interest you. I've got a sex toy, though. We could play with that instead.'

Sex toys were up there among Angie's specialist subjects. Miss Pearce had loads of them and they'd all been used extensively. She wasn't going to say no, was she? Not with her insides doing fluttery things again and hot blood coursing through her veins.

Okay by me,' she said. 'Let's see what you've got.'

Abigail went back under her floorboard and produced a satin drawstring bag. The toy in it was green and looked like a malformed cactus. Rather smugly, Angie had thought she'd seen everything but it was suddenly obvious she had not.

'What on earth's that?'

'It's my rabbit,' Abs explained. 'I can make the shaft and ears vibrate independently and at all sorts of different speeds.'

'What does it do, exactly?'

'It stimulates internally and externally. You can choose between vaginal and clitoral orgasms. Or you can try to get a dual orgasm. That takes a bit of practice, but it's well worth the effort.'

'You sound like an Ann Summers salesperson.'

'Now there's a possible career for me! Er, should I take it that you haven't got one yourself?'

'Yes, you should.'

'Okay then, here's the choice. You can try it and learn as you go on. Or you can watch me before you try it. Or . . .'

Angie's heart was in her mouth. 'Or . . .' she prompted.

'Or you can let me use it on you.'

'Hmmm,' went Angie. 'Oh go on then, twist my arm.'

Abigail was already purposefully advancing on the bed.

'Be a good girl and take off your panties, Ange,' she said. 'And prepare to visit heaven.'

*****

Abigail had been telling the truth when she'd said she was curious. A lot of her contemporaries were curious too. It was maybe a sign of the times or maybe a sign of maturity. A few years ago the idea of "lesbians" had been a creepy one. In fact it had been nearly as creepy as the idea of gay men. But, as time passed, opinions had changed.

Well, not necessarily about gay men; as far as Abigail was concerned the thought of two men fucking together would always be weird. Consequently she left them to it and made of point of never thinking about the mechanics.

Thinking about lesbianism wasn't out of bounds, however; not anymore. Leastways, thinking about lesbianism as portrayed in movies and on TV wasn't taboo. She and most of her peers agreed it had become distinctly sexy. Maybe it had something to do with those raunchy female pop stars flaunting their "alternate" sexualities, earning zillions of dollars in the process.

And no doubt zillions of lady admirers into the bargain.

Zillions of fellow females couldn't all be wrong, could they?

Not that Abigail was getting carried away on the lipstick wave. When she'd felt the first faint stirrings of interest she'd immediately read up on the subject. According to her research, most "women who had sex with women" didn't belong on the cover of Vogue. More to the point, most of those brave women didn't want to belong on a cover . . . and neither did their girlfriends.

Okay, there were heaps of good-looking lesbians out there, but there seemed to be a very wide range of tastes when it came to appearance.

No, make that a very, very wide range.

Somewhere during her research Abs had decided that different preferences were a good thing. As an attractive straight girl she'd never been short of approaches from guys. Tall, short, fat, thin, handsome and ugly, she'd had the approaches. And she'd learnt to look beyond looks and go for character.

She had most of the time, anyway. Virtually spoilt for choice as she was, she had made a policy of not always going for the obvious.

Back then, intrigued but afraid to take the plunge, she'd reckoned that her policy with guys would work just as well with girls. Girls tended to be nicer people to begin with, didn't they? And, while a pretty girl was always good on the eye, wasn't there lots to be said for a plain girl with attitude?

Abigail suspected there were numerous lesbians at her school, plenty of them in denial and patiently waiting for university to set them free. She suspected there were plenty of curious girls too, including some who might have experimented already. But there were only four who were out and in faces.

Four liberated females who were all sexy as fuck.

Liz and Suzanne were the obvious pairing, both drop-dead gorgeous in different ways. Abigail ran out of superlatives in trying to describe their good points, but Sandra eclipsed them in every way.

Sandra who'd shrugged off tons of male admirers and hooked up with Angie instead.

Of the four Angie was the one a neutral observer would tag "lezzie" without hesitation. There was little if anything lipstick about her and she took pride in being a big, tough-looking skinhead. She took pride in being manly and not at all conventionally attractive, too.

Except she continually did herself down. Yes, she stood over six feet and could have played prop for Leeds Rhinos, but Helen of Troy would have killed for her face. And the habitual shaven head didn't really detract.

Thinking about the skinhead cut brought a tear to Abigail's eyes. She hadn't known Angie at the time but apparently she used to have beautiful long black hair. Then she'd had a childhood accident and bumped her head. Diagnosed as lucky and undamaged, she'd been sent home from hospital . . . only to wake next morning with all those lovely black locks lying loose on her pillow.

Abigail liked her self-image. She regularly thanked God for her appearance and knockout figure. And she knew she wasn't as strong as Angie. If she'd woken to find her hair had fallen out she'd have had kittens. And, if her hair hadn't grown back perfectly, she'd have killed herself.

Not Angie, though. Aged twelve, frustrated when she could only grow a straggly mess, she'd gone for the nuclear solution.

Yes, everything about Angie admirable. She was tall and strong with a stunning face and the build of a top male sportsman.

What wasn't there to like about that? Especially when Angie was here, naked on her bed and ready to play?

Deep inside Abigail knew that this was wrong. She'd been wrong to steal Bobby in the first place. That shouldn't have happened. And having sex with his ex would hardly put things right, would it?

But the impulse was too much to deny. And never mind Bobby's past. Or Angie's come to that.

This was here and now. Angie was here. Bobby was not.

Enough of pondering; on with the show . . .

Chapter Four

Abigail desperately wanted to kiss Angie but wasn't sure of the protocol. She also desperately did not want to put a foot wrong. So, keeping up the "toy playing" front, she positioned herself between the so sexy skinhead's parted thighs.

Angie's was the first sexually aroused pussy she had ever encountered. And wasn't it something! She had wondered if a little KY might be required but one close look dismissed jelly as unnecessary. Juice was oozing in a very liberal sort of a way: inexperienced in girl-sex as she was, Abigail could see that lubrication wasn't going to be an issue.

Wasn't that puss-puss a sight for sore eyes! Closely but not totally shaven, it resembled the (lack of) hair on Angie's head. Way too diplomatic to make such an observation, Abigail stroked it instead.

The feel was amazing: smooth as silk in one direction, deliciously spiky in the other.

'Oh yes,' Angie sighed. 'Oh yes, Abs, that's so good.'

Abigail ran her index finger up and down Angie's slit. Then, enthused by a lot of appreciative moans and groans, she circled the mouth of Angie's vagina.

Angie squealed.

Never once thinking of neighbours or open windows, Abigail slipped her index finger an inch or three inside . . . and cried out in wonder.

The hot wetness of her was incredible. So too was her tight elasticity.

Cumming herself and scarcely noticing, Abigail began to probe. Angie wasn't just oozing by now, she was practically streaming.

If ever a girl needed shagging she was the one.

Being as tender and gentle as possible, Abigail eased the rabbit's shaft into Angie, taking care to get its ears just-so.

Angie responded by yelling, 'Yes, yes, yes.'

Then Abigail moved the shaft control, making it start to vibrate at slow-to-medium.

Hopefully the neighbours were out because Angie didn't squeal at that, she screamed.

'Yes, yes, yes!!!'

Abigail had kept the toy moving inside her lover all along, but slowly, and using very short strokes.

'Does the speed feel right?' she asked, her voice husky and low.

'I can feel it in my fingers and toes,' Angie gasped. 'Nothing's ever felt righter.'

'Okay, so I'm going to turn off the shaft and switch on the ears. Can you feel them against your clit?'

'Oh my God, yes.'

'They feel wonderful even when they're switched off, don't they?'

'Oh my God, yes.'

'Right, here goes.'

The devil in Abigail prompted her to go for a relatively high speed. Going for a high speed had been a mistake she'd made when she'd first rabbit-practiced solo. Well, this time the selection was maybe not a "mistake" at all but no matter: it produced the same result: Angie came instantaneously.

Abigail reduced the speed while Angie noisily re-landed on planet earth.

'Sorry,' she said insincerely. 'It's something else, isn't it?'

'Does it have slower speeds?'

'Yeah; try this.'

Angie took it at the second slowest and impressed Abs with her self-control.

'I could stand a lot of this,' she said eventually.

'It's time for two vibrations at once.' Abigail chuckled. 'Let's aim for that dual orgasm. But don't worry if you miss it at first. We've got all afternoon. And practice makes perfect, doesn't it?'

*****

Going down on Angie was the bravest thing Abigail had ever done. Conversely, it was also one of the easiest things she'd ever done. There was no subconscious hesitation or anything along those lines. After an hour or so of "practice" she'd simply left the vibrator buzzing inside a grateful puss-puss and chewed on Angie's tits awhile. Then, when Angie announced it was "her turn", she'd done it.

'This first,' she'd said, moving into position, recalling the feel of those short bristles on her fingers.

And wondering what they'd feel like on her tongue.

The direct taste of Angie was beyond belief. The earlier finger sample hadn't done her justice. And of course by then Angie wasn't streaming; she was spewing forth like a volcano.

Suddenly Abigail was hauled off and tossed unceremoniously onto her back. She actually felt a stab of fear as she considered Angie's physique and the history between them.

What if this is the brutal revenge fuck, her brain yammered.

But it wasn't. For a large, fearsome-looking skinhead Angie had the touch of an angel. Being kissed by her was like enjoying a soft summer breeze. And the places she kissed . . .

Abigail had expected tits and pussy. Angie kissed her everywhere. She also sucked on her toes and licked her armpits.

Armpits, for God's sake!

Angie's lovemaking put Abigail's in the shade. Okay, so she'd successfully led the way with the sex toy, but her subsequent efforts seemed amateurish in the extreme. She may have talked the talk but Angie definitely walked the walk.

Finally, after a million orgasms for her and perhaps two for Angie, positions shifted. The strong, oh-so beautiful skinhead was on her in a missionary sort of a way.

'That was frigging awesome,' Abigail said in absolute, total honesty.

'Haven't even started yet,' Angie replied. 'Wrap your legs around me. No, not like that; not around the back of my legs . . . Wrap them higher, over my hips.

Abigail obliged and almost died. Their vaginas were kissing! It was hot, sloppy and wet and the best feeling ever.

Then Angie started to move and whole new horizons opened up.

'Fuck me,' Abigail panted.

'Dead right I will,' Angie grunted. 'Great minds and all that . . . '

*****

Abigail had an "old-fashioned" electric alarm clock on a cabinet beside her bed. It was showing 16:59 when Angie stopped tribbing and asked how much longer they had.

'Shit,' said Abigail, 'half an hour if we're lucky. Maybe not even that.'

Angie climbed off her and stretched. 'Time to go,' she said. 'Thank you for having me.'

'I think you've had me, haven't you?'

'No, I think we both held our ends up splendidly. I can't remember a more fun afternoon. Or one that was more unexpected, come to that.'

'Ange . . .'

Abigail broke off uncertainly. Angie regarded her, noting her beauty but also a worried expression.

'Don't worry, Abs. I meant what I said. What happened here stays here; I don't blab. Not ever.'

'It's not that I'm bothered about. I want more. No, I desperately need more.'

'So the experiment was a success, was it?'

'It couldn't have gone better. And I really mean it; I desperately need more.'

It occurred to Angie that this was the moment; she could triumph over her "rival" once and for all. She had had her fun and could easily run. But she dismissed the notion out of hand. She didn't hate Abs and giving her more wasn't a bad idea at all.

What was it that Miss Pearce said to justify her string of lovers: Friends should always be lovers and lovers should be friends forever? It was something along those lines, anyway.

'I have a complicated sex life,' said Angie.

'I don't care. Just fit me in now and again.'

'Do you mean like no commitment and passion all the way?'

'Yes. Particularly the passion bit.'

'And Bobby's not to know?'

'Stuff Bobby; he can know or not. That's up to you. I'll play it any way you want.'

'I think we should keep it quiet for a while.'

'No problem. Any way you want it is fine by me.'

'Okay, you're on. When do you want to go again?'

'Right now, this minute . . . but we haven't time. We could do tomorrow afternoon, back here.'

'Tomorrow,' Angie echoed.

'Isn't that soon enough?'

Abigail's face was a picture. She was as sincere as sincere could be. Angie laughed.

'Okay,' she said, 'it's a date.'

Chapter Five

A month had passed in the blink of an eye. Now it was a Friday late in July and Angie was obliged to make a trip into school. After many weeks of leave of absence and exams it felt strange catching the usual buses and walking the few hundred yards up to the sixth form block.

Probably it felt strange because it was the last time she would ever be making that familiar old trip.

The stress-free weeks following her exams had been eventful and fulfilling. And Angie had landed a job. Okay, it wasn't a terribly important job: she was just helping out in a busy pub attached to a hotel. And, as she was technically still a student, her position hadn't an official title. She'd been getting paid cash-in-hand as "casual labour". But for the first time in her life she had money of her own.

Her very own Guinness vouchers!

So far her hours had been limited and her duties varied. Serving behind the bar; waitressing; greeting; collecting and washing glasses; she'd done the lot. She'd also had shifts in the dreaded kiddies' play areas, both indoors and out, and had surprised herself by enjoying them.

Yes, the girl who hated kids actually connecting!!

To begin with the kids had seemed scared of her appearance. And to begin with, she'd been scared of her potential reaction to a crowd of screaming brats. But the pub's geography was good. The play areas couldn't have been better segregated from drinkers and diners, and the kids loved being left to run wild with their peers almost as much as their parents loved leaving them.

There had been unruly, headstrong brats, of course. Angie dealt with them with a stern frown and soft but forceful words. And a wagging finger, naturally. Every last one of those tiny hardcases had wilted at that. Towering over them as she did, their mum and dad cosy in the main body of the pub, slurping alcohol and devouring their very reasonably priced meals . . .

Well, it was only too obvious who was in charge.

Not that Angie had set herself up as the great dictator. She took pride in helping kiddies when asked and was constantly amazed by her patience.

Kiddies had never featured in her plans but had moved up a notch. Okay, so she wouldn't want any of her own, but looking after other folks' wasn't so bad. At least she could always give them back.

This Friday was a game changer in more ways than one. As if marking the end of her school life was not enough, she had a four o'clock "interview" at the pub. Assuming she didn't mess it up, she would move from casual onto a short term contract, thereby increasing her hours and having more security. Well, she'd be secure until she went to uni, and would see a bit more (taxable!) cash while she was at it.

Good news there then but, needless to say, the extra hours would cut into her sex-life. In other words her summer might not be quite so eventful and fulfilling . . . Not unless she carefully rescheduled.