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Like all the previous stories in this series I believe that this one will stand alone. However I suggest it is better to read them all in the correct sequence.

*********

It was about a week after New Year when Angel and I got together again. We met in a pub, had a few drinks then eventually headed back to my place. I am a little ashamed to report that by the time we got to the bedroom, no stopping off on the living room sofa this time, I was so fired up with lust I just pushed her back onto the bed, pulled up her skirt, pulled aside the gusset of her panties and drove in like a pile driver. No foreplay, no caressing, no finesse and sadly very little staying power.

When I had shot my load and rolled off her gasping for breath, she looked at me with a mixture of shocked horror and anger. After a few moments of silently glaring at me, she slowly peeled her soiled panties down her legs and with a sudden movement shoved them in my face.

“Enjoy that did you? Well you got yours then Mister Panty Perv now get down there and give me mine!”

With that she grabbed me and pushed my head between her legs, clamping me in place with her hands and nylon clad thighs until I had fully paid my debt.

That incident became the basis of one of the rituals of our relationship, no arrangement I think is a better word. The passage of our sessions was always marked by a number of rituals. Over the following weeks we developed an almost rigid routine.

Imagine our meetings like a piece of theatre. We would nearly always meet in a pub, then we would adjourn to my house. Never hers. Although sometimes she would just come straight around to mine instead of meeting up somewhere else. Whatever else she might be wearing on the day, she always wore a lace thong and hold-up stockings, well I like stockings and she knew that and played up to my minor fetish. Our overture of kissing and foreplay would be conducted at least semi-dressed, and our first fuck usually would be with the gusset of her panties just pulled aside.

Once we got into the main body of the play we would undress completely, and then remain naked for the rest of the evening, night, day or weekend, how ever long she had planned to stay. The only clothing we would put on during that time would be bathrobes if it was too chilly to go about the house naked between our sex sessions. Not that our sex was restricted to the bedroom we made full use of every room of the house when the mood took us. A stand up ‘knee-trembler’ quickie against the kitchen sink in the morning while Angel was trying to wash up our breakfast coffee cups was not unusual, and never rejected. Even if my frail manhood refused to perform we could find ways of having fun, not always sexual, mostly just playing childish games, tickle fights, pillow fights and other such silliness.

“Oh! He’s dead!”

With a flick of her hand at my flaccid flesh and a look of mock disgust, or disappointment.

“Well it’s your fault you killed him!”

“Oh I never did, you don’t look after him properly!”

“Oy Smatrarse! That’s not fair, you wear him that’s your fault that is…”

That was usually the kind thing that would start one of our play fights. The relaxation and laughter these games brought usually had the desired effect and my old chap would soon be up again and ready to do his duty. Whatever problem Angel would find a way to make a shared joke of it and disperse the male angst that so often follows these failures to perform that most men suffer from time to time.

She certainly was a very insightful and naturally gifted therapist.

The final scene would be showering together and getting re-dressed. When we were dressed she would present me with, washed and dried, the lace thong that she had worn when she arrived, and I would pin the flimsy garment up on my ‘trophy wall’ above the head bostancı escort bayan of my bed. No, I don’t have a serious underwear fetish, it just became one of our joke rituals but I did build up quite a collection of her lace thongs over the weeks and months that followed.

The play-out, if that is an apt analogy, would be to go and have a meal in a pub or a small restaurant. Never anything expensive of extravagant. This was just the way we closed the lid on the box of our arrangement until the next time we met, and prolonged vigorous exercise does build up quite an appetite.

Angel set out a firm set of ground rules for our arrangement, we were friends and fuck-buddies, never lovers. We would meet for fun and sex, there was never any chance of this becoming a ‘relationship.’ We met, we fucked, repeatedly, and we parted, that was it, everything else in our lives was totally separate. It was a good arrangement and it worked very well. We both understood that in time it would just fade away, no recriminations, no tears when it was time for it to end, it would end and that would be that.

I have used the word ‘fuck’ rather more often that I usually do, perhaps some of Angel’s mode of speech is rubbing off on me. But more likely it is the most appropriate word for what we did. We did not make love, sometimes our couplings would be tender, with lots of kissing and caressing, and sometimes rough, animal almost. It was sex, just for the pure fun of it, two bodies coming together for mutual pleasure. There was friendship, but never love. That was taboo.

So I was rather surprised one Sunday morning when Angel and I were sitting in bed, naked as usual, sipping our breakfast coffee when she said.

“I want to tell you about something that happened to me when I was at uni.”

“I thought you said that now is now, with us, and everything else is separate?”

“Yeah, but I think I can tell you this without giving to much away, besides, I think it’ll get you hot.”

“You think I need anymore heating up?”

“Mmm, no you Filthy Old Fucker,” her favourite pet name for me. “You’re quite hot enough, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

She went on to describe how she had met Kimmy, a Chinese girl who was at the same college as her.

“Not her real name,” Angel told me, “but one she used to stop ‘un-cultured westerners,’ as she called most of us, from mangling her Chinese name.”

They were in different departments and on different courses so they really only met in passing at first. But occasionally their eyes would meet and a kind of electricity passed between them.

Eventually they met face to face in the student bar, introduced each other and within a few minuets, despite their differences in culture and background, found they had quite a lot in common and became friends. After that they would meet regularly for coffee or drinks. As friends they became almost inseparable.

She went on to tell me that Kimmy was a very tactile person, always touching her hand, or stroking her arm or her hair.

“I didn’t realise then, but looking back I can see she was coming on to me, my gaydar wasn’t tuned in back then.”

Everything changed one Friday night in the bar. It had been a heavy drinking session and both Angel and Kimmy were quite drunk. They started playing around in a silly girlie way putting on a kind of show to tease the guys around them. Then in a flash it all became much more serious and they began to kiss in earnest.

“All of a sudden it seemed to go dark, and we were snogging as if our lives depended on it. Groping each other and pulling at our clothes. If it wasn’t for the group of blokes cheering us on we might have stripped off and gone for it there and then on the bar floor!”

The raucous cheering and shouts of the group of young men broke the spell that ümraniye escort had enwrapped Angel and Kimmy. Embarrassed, the girls disentangled themselves, straightened their clothes and sheepishly went their separate ways.

The following week they met again in the student bar. This time Kimmy had put aside any pretence of playing. As soon as she saw Angel she rushed up to her gave her a big hug, kissed her on the cheek and whispered that she was desperate to fuck her, and that they should go back to Kimmy’s place right away.

At this point Angel broke off from her narrative, looked thoughtful for a moment then

“I had never thought of myself as being bi or lez. Okay, I had wondered what it would be like to fuck another woman, what girl doesn’t, but never though it would happen. Not until that night with Kimmy. Her command, yeah, it was defiantly a command not a request, it went straight to my feet and I just went with her.”

They went back to Kimmy’s flat, only stopping briefly on route to buy a few bottles of WKD, just to help the party along. At first things were a little awkward Angel wasn’t sure she wanted to be there, or what was expected of her.

“It was a bit like being a kid again and my first time alone with a boy.”

Soon the booze broke down her inhibitions and she willingly submitted to Kimmy’s kissing and groping. Groping is to harsh a word. Kimmy was not at all like any of the boys that Angel had been with. Hers was not the selfish demanding groping of a male. She caressed and teased Angel’s body just as insistently but far more excitingly than any of her male lovers had ever managed. Building her up then letting her down again, over and over again until her body was begging for release.

“Mmm yeah, and when she started to lick my cunt I thought I had died and gone to heaven. For a bloke you are one of the best when you go down on me Tom. But Kimmy, wow, if they gave medals for cunt licking she would have got a triple gold.”

She paused again and looked at me quizzically.

“You don’t like the word ‘cunt’ do you Tom, would it be better if I said ‘pussy’?”

“No, it’s your story lover, you use your own words.”

I have remarked before about Angel’s language, but as she had explained to me, she just loved to use dirty words when she was being a dirty girl. The dirtier the better! When she was in the full throws of her orgasmic passion she could shout out strings of expletives that would make a sailor blush. But, there was one thing that was very funny however, when Angel forgot that she was playing the slut her voice would slip back to her natural accent which was really rather cultured. There were several times when we had to break off from our couplings at a crucial moment because the counterpoint of her ‘posh’ voice and gutter language got me laughing uncontrollably. We laughed a lot, after all sex can be very funny, all that groaning, squelching sounds and creaking bed springs; it can be hysterical!

Angel continued her narrative. Describing how she begin to mirror Kimmy’s actions, fondling her breasts, stroking the warm moist flesh between her thighs. Trading kiss for kiss, their tongues wrestling sensuously. Soon they were both floating on a cloud of orgasmic bliss. After receiving the very best of Kimmy’s cunni-linguistic ministrations it was made clear that Angel should return the favour.

A first Angel was unsure if she could, she was struck, as she positioned herself between the other woman’s legs just how hairy this girl was. Where Angel kept her pubic hair trimmed almost to the point of non-existence, Kimmy’s bush grew wild and free, the other thing Angel instantly noticed was the way that her thick fleshy labia protruded out from this luxuriant bush, and Kimmy’s clitoris seemed huge, jutting proudly from between her engorged lips like a miniature penis. escort kartal Not all neat and tucked away like her own womanly parts.

“Her clit was incredibly sensitive too, just one light touch and she would be bucking on the couch as if she was being given Electric Shock Treatment”

Tentatively she began to lick the other woman’s moist and fragrant intimate flesh. Kimmy playing the role of teacher, told Angel that she should treat her pussy in the same way the she herself liked to be treated. Encouraging her with soft moans of pleasure and quiet words of direction to the best way to execute the task. It was not long before Angel was applying herself with enthusiasm. Exploring the dark moist folds of the Chinese woman’s pussy with her tongue, savouring the new found tastes and smells. Delving inside her hot griping passage with her fingers twisting and curling them inside finding the spongy protrusion of Kimmy’s g-spot, massaging it and noting the different reactions this brought. Angel varied and refined her technique finding how to push her lover forward, and when to hold back teasing and coaxing her building the strength of anticipation, as she had so expertly done to her. The object of her ministrations writhed and moaned on the couch her state of arousal becoming almost too much to bear. Angel was a quick learner and a keen student of the finer sexual arts.

Still partly dressed but hot and bathed in sweat the two young women moved to the sixty-nine position where they delivered of each other further screaming orgasms. Finally they were forced by fatigue to call a break.

After a short rest they showered together and Angel was able fully appreciate what this Chinese girl looked like. They were both of about the same height, Kimmy perhaps just few inches shorter. Where Angel’s body was pale, lean, trim and almost completely hairless. Kimmy was dark, more rounded, softer and hairy. Little tufts of black hair sprouted from her armpits and her pubic bush was thick and full, not only covering the mound of her pudenda but spreading down and between her legs. Kimmy’s breasts were larger than Angel’s too, much more than the neat handfuls that she possessed. Where Angel’s nipples were small and compact, the Chinese woman’s were long and thick. The two of them standing naked together made a sharp contrast. Coffee and cream, Angel thought to herself, she knew what a lovely mixture coffee and cream could make.

Angel paused again, she was cupping her petite breasts in her hands and examining them closely.

“Not bad for little titties are they?” She mused. “When I let them swing free under a clingy top they certainly get some good looks.”

I pictured the way her unfettered breasts had moved under the satin blouse that she had worn on the night we first met.

“Just perfect,” I intoned. “So what happened next?”

“We spent the night together. I never realised how much fun two girls could have in bed together. It was different, but I had some mind blowing orgasms that night, so did she!”

“Did you bed each other again?”

“Yeah, a few times, but it wasn’t far off the end of my last year when we got together. After graduation we went our separate ways and didn’t really keep in touch. Tell you one thing more though, one night she wanted to do me with the big rubber strap-on that she had. I told her no. If I want a cock I want it to be a real flesh and blood one, one that shoots lots of lovely hot jizz up inside me.”

She slipped her hand under the duvet and started to softly stroke my engorged manhood, which by now was standing as tall and proud as a guardsman outside Buckingham Palace.

“Mmm, talking of cocks… Right now I want you to fuck my hot little cunt as hard and fast as you can. Filthy Old Fucker.”

She threw off the duvet and arranged herself in our favourite position for me to take her from behind. With her direct instructions, and the way she was wiggling her cute little rump at me…

How could any red-blooded heterosexual man possibly refuse.

Come to think of it that hot little vixen might even have made some gay men stop and think twice.

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