Come Together Right Now

Foreword

Hello again it's me, the young lady masquerading as "Helen X", back with another yarn. Anyone who missed my previous kiss-and-tell confession might very well be wondering "Who the hell is this?" so here's a bit of background.

These days I'm pushing thirty but my story is set back in late 2008, when I was in the sixth form of a school that will remain nameless. I'd been bi-curious for ages without ever really acknowledging it. In a way I guess I'd subconsciously been disconcerted about my gut feelings for girls and done my best to focus on guys.

Even though at least fifty per cent of my internet sex videos had featured hungry lesbians . . .

Or was it more like sixty per cent?

Maybe it was closer to ninety-five!

Whatever, although I had thoroughly "entertained" myself behind closed doors, I'd somehow managed to keep my virginity up to the ripe old age of eighteen. Then, over a period of just a few weeks I'd had sex with three different guys, never once being properly satisfied.

Don't get me wrong; I'd enjoyed the shagging but I hadn't approached any sort of rapture, never mind the sheer delight of orgasm.

That's when I started thinking more seriously about girls. That's when I dragged my best amigo Amy into a lesbian bar in the centre of nearby Leeds, wanting to initially just sample the atmosphere.

Trust me Amy was not impressed but knock me down with a feather, that very same night I copped off with my schoolmate, Wendy, a goddess of a woman who I'd always believed to be straight as a die.

Leastways I had until she fingered me to a dozen climaxes in a seedy back alley.

(By that I mean a narrow passageway between two larger streets, not my personal back alley!)

Jaysus, wasn't she good? That alleyway experience changed my outlook on many aspects of life.

What else can I say to bring you up to speed? At eighteen I was (and still am) a tad over six feet tall, broad-shouldered with a nice chest, a pencil of a waistline and shapely hips. Try as I might I can't find one single ounce of fat on my body.

Looks-wise I have regularly been compared to Demi Moore, and I ain't going to argue with that.

I mean who in her right mind ever would!

So that's me and where I was at after that very first time. One final point before I recommence is this: reading through "Hazel X for Sex" I couldn't help notice that there was bugger all sex in it (excuse the Yorkshire earthiness in that sentiment, please!). What am I like? I post in Lesbian Sex and don't even get my tits out!!

Trust me; this follow-up will redress the balance.

Hopefully it'll redress it big-time.

Chapter One

I woke Saturday morning with a big goofy grin on my face. Okay, so I wasn't looking in a mirror, but that's how it felt to me. Right then I was finer than fine. Nothing could detract from the night before, not even the insistently ringing mobile on my bedside cabinet.

'Hello sweetheart,' I began, recognizing Amy's number. 'What can I do for you at this early hour?'

'It is half past nine,' she countered, 'and I've been ringing you for ages.'

I laughed at that. 'Are you so keen to give me your report on Brian?'

(Brian was the guy I'd given my virginity to and shagged with most often. Asking my permission first, my amigo Amy had homed in on him at last night's party. I'd been promised a blow-by-blow account and here it apparently was.)

'Mary mother of Jaysus,' Amy began, 'he's got a snake in his pants . . . no, it's a freaking python . . .'

Somehow I endured her gushing praise of Brian's attentions . . . wondering why, if he was so special, he'd done nothing so wonderful for me . . . until I could finally get her off the line. And yes, I did that by assuring her I wasn't at all jealous and insisting she did it all again, and as soon as possible.

'Are you sure?' she hedged. 'What about Janine's eighteenth tonight?'

'Not going,' said I. 'Something else has come up. Go with Brian instead, and give him one for me.'

'What has come up?' Amy demanded, striking like a cobra. 'Did something happen at the party, while I was otherwise engaged?'

'You can say that again! But I can't tell you about it yet.'

'We always tell each other everything.'

'I know we do, but this time you'll have to be patient. I'll reveal all on Monday. In the meantime you will have to distract yourself with Brian.'

'He only says nice things about you, you know.'

'I know. He's basically a nice guy. But he's not on my agenda anymore. You enjoy him instead. Make a weekend of it, why don't you.'

*****

"Something else" in reality was Wendy. We had agreed to meet in The Pride (my home town's version of the Leeds lesbian bar . . . except not really very near) at twelve. Remembering a Careers teacher's advice never to arrive any later than ten minutes early, I got there at quarter to.

That advice was, by the way, for an appointment or interview, but I'd seen at once that it was cock-on for all sorts of situations . . . apart from reluctant dates, maybe.

And I confess I was nervous going into such an establishment alone. I'd done two entries last night, of course, but I'd had Amy with me the first time and Wendy the next. Taking a very deep breath outside, steeling myself and sticking out my chest, I went in through saloon-type swing doors.

The sense of anti-climax was massive. At that early hour the place was next to deserted. There were only a handful of clients, most of them male couples. Buying myself a pint of Strongbow I leant back against the bar . . . just in time to greet Adrian, who'd appeared out of nowhere.

Adrian was at school with me and openly gay. He'd given me a heads up about suitable lesbian pubs so, in a roundabout way, was responsible for getting me together with Wendy. He was also dressed in the same clothes as last night, unlike his Construction Worker lookalike, who was across the room in a different shirt and possibly fresh jeans.

'Ade,' said I, 'please tell me you've been home.'

'Not yet,' he replied, 'and isn't he hunky? Would you kick him out of bed?'

'Yes, I probably would.'

'You're just a spoilsport. And he certainly looked twice when you came in just now. I can put a word in for you, if you like. But never mind him, what about Wendy? I saw you with her. Whoever would have thought it?'

'Not me,' I admitted.

'Did you?'

'Did I what?'

'Come on babe, your secrets are safe with me. Tell all.'

At that moment Wendy arrived . . . a mere five minutes early; she'd obviously not paid due attention in Careers classes.

Not that anyone minded her sense of timing. When that girl made a grand entrance everyone looked her way, even now, here in a gay bar. If the Construction Worker had spared me a second glance she got a hatful from him. And from everyone else too, come to that.

Aged eighteen Wendy was as tall as me with a mane of dark red hair, an exceptionally beautiful face and a body to die for. I could write eulogies about her appearance but now is not the time and place. Let's just say she was stacked and by no means air-headed.

'Omigod,' said Adrian as she joined us at the bar, nodding to him before kissing me, 'it's serious, isn't it?'

'Hi Ade,' said Wendy, smiling at the awed expression on his face.

'Best get back to your date before he runs of with Leather Man,' I added.

Leather Man,' echoed Adrian, rolling his eyes, 'I wish!'

*****

Wendy insisted on ordering steak sizzlers and, armed with fresh pints, we retired to a table; one as far away from Adrian and his much older man as possible.

'You made it, then,' Wendy began.

'Wild horses couldn't have kept me away. And I am in for the duration. That's why I've brought this.' I indicated my overnight bag. 'I'm yours from now until Monday morning. Play your cards right and I'll be up for Monday night as well, assuming your parents won't be back by then.'

'I'm afraid they will be, so now to Monday morning it is.' The goofy grin on Wendys face put my earlier one to shame. 'No problems with your mother, then?'

'I caught Dad alone in the kitchen. He agreed just like that and here I am. I left it to him to tell Mum.'

'Don't say she'll be round to pull you home by the ear.'

'She doesn't know where you live. Neither do I, come to that; not precisely. Way I see it we couldn't be safer. All we have to do is not answer the phone.'

'Hazel X, you are one naughty girl.'

'Got it in one,' I said, grinning back at her.

Leaning in, she kissed me on the mouth, lingering only a few seconds but injecting plenty of va-va-voom.

'I like naughty girls,' she told me. 'I like them a lot.'

'Let's be naughty and kiss again right now,' said I, hopefully.

She laughed and, looking over my shoulder, said our steaks were on their way. 'You'll have to wait,' she added, 'but not for long.'

Chapter Two

Wendy's home was in a detached house in one of the more desirable parts of our town. She asked if I wanted the grand tour and, trembling, I said I only wanted to see the main bedroom.

Barely past one in the afternoon and I wanted bed!

So did Wendy. 'Correct answer,' she cried gleefully, 'follow me.'

A minute later we were in her parents' room, which was suitably impressive.

'Paradise,' I murmured. 'Are you sure we can . . . Well, get away with it?'

'I've got it all planned,' Wendy replied smugly. 'The neighbours can't hear us. The front door is already locked and impassable. Anyone knocks, we just ignore them. I'll swap the bedding for something very similar on Monday morning; stick the stained stuff in the washer. I'll have it clean and dried before the old folk return. In the meantime we can do anything and everything we like.'

Her grin wavered. 'By that I mean I can do anything and everything you like. I don't have expectations from you. I just want to make you happy as can be.'

'You've done this before?' I ventured.

'Not exactly, and not ever here, but I'm sure I have more experience than you. And trust me, I'm keen as mustard to be of service.'

'Okay,' said I, still trembling and trying not to gulp. 'I'll play along.'

What a wise decision was that! And how excited was I? I'd never had sex indoors before and never as a naked woman; the idea of being here in a real-life bedroom, naked with Wendy . . .

Well frig my old boots, it was stupendous. Anticipation levels were through the roof.

After kissing me extremely thoroughly, Wendy at last announced it was time to undress.

'Me first,' she went on, 'but with you following suit.'

So saying she took off her trendy denim jacket and tossed it aside.

'Now you,' she commanded.'

I was wearing my ridiculously abbreviated leather jacket. Trembling more than ever, I slowly took it off and carefully put it on a strategically placed chair.

'Jeans next,' said, Wendy, peeling her elastic, skin-tight casuals off her perfect ass and mile-long legs in order to reveal the tiniest thong ever manufactured, kicking away her super-sexy ankle socks as an afterthought.

'Fuck me,' I gasped.

'You can take that for granted,' she laughed. 'Now off with 'em, girl, show me what you have to give.'

My jeans were fashionably slashed. Grateful to see Wendy wasn't wearing benders . . . if alarmed by the sight of that so-revealing thong . . . I somehow got out of them, exposing my best pair of knickers; in tasteful black to match my bra. That's why my blouse was black, naturally; to cover the delights I'd hidden below.

I hoped.

(My ankle socks were in virgin white and no, they weren't at all Freudian; all my ankle socks came in white. Less provocatively than my hostess, I swiftly discarded them.)

Wendy gasped in her turn. 'I've noticed you in the changing room showers a million times, but you've never looked half as good as this.'

Part of my brain wanted to say I had noticed her in the showers too, that I'd gone home and jilled with her in the showers very much in mind, focusing on her as I'd . . .

Well, you get the general idea.

'You look ten times better,' I said truthfully. 'So what happens next?'

'Tops,' Wendy said decisively, gripping her T cross-handed and removing it smoother than a stripper.

Not that I'd actually seen a stripper at that stage in my life. Call it an over-active imagination.

'Now you,' Wendy prompted, indicating my blouse.

For the avoidance of doubt I'll admit here and now that this slow stripping routine was turning me on. As if I wasn't turned on in the first place! But I really was; really, really, really. Every aspect about the situation was a major inspiration.

Fuck me, as I've said before . . . and will no doubt say again!!

Reduced to my tasteful bra/panties combination I wondered what came next.

Needless to report, Wendy had had it all mapped out.

'Best tits ever,' she crooned, closing on me, kissing my mouth whilst deftly unhooking my brassiere as if she'd done it every day for the last year or more.

And no, I wasn't offended; ferociously self-lubricating, I silently cheered her on and returned her kiss as fervently as I could. Trust me; that was extremely fervently and as ferocious as heck.

Fully clothed Wendy resembled a Greek goddess. Semi-naked she resembled . . .

Let's just say there can't ever have been a more alluring sight in any bedroom, anywhere.

Let's also say my self-lubrication was becoming excessive. Those tasteful black panties had no hope of controlling the flow.

That was before Wendy attacked my breasts. And oh my, what was that like! Previously only I'd ever made sexual contact up there by the way of chest-to-chest rubbing while dancing, snogging or, once in a while, shagging . . .

Yes, my own touch up there could be inspiring and rubbing against a man wasn't bad . . .

But Wendy was sensational. Touching, teasing, squeezing, caressing and cajoling endlessly. Shifting her mouth from mine she then kissed and licked her way over my chin, neck and collarbone. Before I knew it she was nibbling my diamond-hard nips . . .

And I came faster than the Orient Express.

Fuck me but she was good!

She was persistent, too. Her mouth might have made me wait awhile before finally arriving but, when it did get there, it wasn't for shifting. And I was back in multiple-mode.

Had I honestly thought last night was the ultimate in sexual perfection? What a fool was I . . . And we hadn't made it to bed yet. Shit, we'd hardly even started.

Or so I hoped . . . again.

On she went, on. Her hands still teasing, squeezing and everything else, her lips and tongue kissing and licking, driving me from climax to climax.

Life can't possibly get any better than this, I marvelled, quite rapturously.

But then it did.

Sinking to her knees on the luxurious carpet, Wendy slid her knowing tongue down my body with no haste at all, pausing to pay attention to my belly button along the way.

Then her mouth was on my pussy, pressing against it through my (undoubtedly wet) panties. I almost wailed at the contact. I'd been groped there before but had never had a mouth anywhere near. Maybe it was the uniqueness of the occasion . . . or maybe it was me wondering what was likely to happen in the next few seconds . . .

Whatever it was, I came repetitively, like a three-volley salute.

Or was it a twenty-one-gun salute?

Rising back to her feet, sniggering at my obviously rocky sense of balance, Wendy ordered me to get on the bed.

'On your back,' she added when I rather gratefully perched on the edge. Needless to say, I obeyed.

Staring at me all the while, holding my eyes with hers, Wendy slowly unhooked her bra and twirled it a few revolutions around her finger before letting it fly I know not where.

My attention was riveted on her chest. As I mentioned a shade earlier, we'd seen each other naked in school showers often enough before. But this was massively different. I was proud of my breasts and wouldn't change them for the world . . . yet Wendy's were even better. The mad impulse to grab them and dive in was . . .

Was . . .

Fortunately common sense prevailed. I couldn't possibly do for her the things she'd done for me. And what's more, my legs hardly had the spring of a dive in them . . .

Perhaps later, when my heart had stopped racing and it was easier to breathe . . .

Still taking forever about it, Wendy discarded her thong and breathing became even harder.

The girl's pussy was swollen to heck and back. She was clean-shaven down there and glistening with a thick coat of juice. I could see the blood pulsing through her vulva and picture rivulets of enthusiasm trickling out of her.

'Methinks it's time to progress,' she said softly, joining me on the bed.

Chapter Three

Still fascinated by the sight of her chest, still enormously excited by the very idea of being there alone with her . . . with seemingly aeons ahead of us . . . I eagerly obliged when she commanded me to 'Get that sexy ass in the air.'

Anchoring my heels in the mattress I arched my spine and almost immediately felt the warm wetness on my legs as my panties were gently tugged off me.

What incredible joy! A distant part of my brain hoped Wendy was relishing the sight of me fractionally as much as I'd relished the sight of her. As best I could tell I was equally aroused. I'd shaved earlier to ensure I was bristle-free aside from my short, finely trimmed landing strip. In other words visibility was very good. With any luck pulsing blood would be apparent within my (exceptionally) swollen vulva and I'd be as shiny as a new-born star.

If I had hoped for words of approval I would have been disappointed. They came later, and profusely. At the time Wendy was keen to press on.

'Open your legs for me,' she said huskily, 'come on babe, open up.'

More excited than ever I obediently obliged and Wendy took her turn to dive.

Didn't she just!

As an aside, in all those videos I'd watched I had always wondered how ready to go down a girl would be; meaning in the real world, not in the world of films and generous payments for "actresses". Surely it was unhygienic. Surely the tastes would be . . . well . . .

Wendy barely hesitated before assaulting my legs. Alternating a lot but mostly focusing on my inside thigh she kissed, licked and nibbled. Two seconds and I almost died! How good was that!! All worries about not been shiny enough blew away on the wind.

Not shiny enough? I was gushing heartfelt appreciation. I must have been like a hall of mirrors down there. And Wendy was still nowhere near my . . . my . . .

But not for long; adjusting position between my wide-splayed legs she changed tactics. Suddenly she was addressing my pussy, and in the most adorable way. Starting at the very bottom she slowly slid up me, leading with the tip of her nose, following with her wickedly deft, wickedly knowing tongue.

Ecstasy or what!

Don't ask how long she kept going. It could have been seconds or hours. Up she would go and then down again, her nose tip and tongue alternating leading roles as their direction changed.

And, as an added bonus, her hands were gripping my ass which had miraculously developed a life of its own. Swear to God I could have cum from that grip alone, regardless of everything else.

Then, when life really couldn't possibly get any better, Wendy closed in higher up, if you know what I mean.

Double ecstasy!!

Callously disregarding my oozing opening, she concentrated most of her glorious efforts on my hood. Forever varying her rhythms and motions, she took me to heights that couldn't possibly exist. It truly was a lifetime high. Somehow nibbling at me (I subsequently decided she had used her teeth behind her furled lips) she repetitively tugged my flesh upwards before letting natural springiness snap it back in place.

Treble ecstasy!!

Making random visits to my clit she brought me higher than Everest . . . perhaps higher than Olympus Mons . . . and my series of multiples flew off the scale.