So, the two protagonists from Meet Me There were not contained to that tale alone. I think this is from earlier on in their story. Enjoy.
Looking back, it all started to go a bit weird when we decided to buy a strap-on.
I met her in Tesco’s. Of course, where else? Where do people usually meet perfect whirlwinds of women who paw at you incessantly and make you glow? Lidl?
I was fingering a stalk of broccoli. Deciding; was I feeling virtuous enough to eat green things, or was I going to get chips on the way home? She was hiding behind a stack of Easter eggs, pretending to be a bunny. As you do. She did look slightly ashamed when she noticed me staring at her. She was wearing shorts, even though it had been snowing all day.
“I’m pretending to be the Easter Bunny til my friends arrive.” she said, after a pause.
After that it seemed natural to fall into conversation with her, swap numbers and go out for drinks the next week.
She was seeing someone, and I was seeing someone. I was toying with the concept of the open relationship, where she was only spending time with her guy when she was horny, she only mentioned it because, that night we went for drinks and kissed and I involuntarily brought my hand between her thighs, bunching the material of her skirt in my hand, she said she’d need to text him and cancel their date.
Mine, I didn’t consider at the time. He’d said “fine, let’s not be exclusive just yet” and I’d gone along with it, more out of curiosity and ‘all adventurous women do.’ than any desire to sleep with anyone I could get my hands on.
She was the first, smelling of flowers and danger and whispering dirty music from her angelic face in each public space we passed through. It wasn’t just sex. It was art. It was education. Distilled joy every time I felt her skin under my fingertips.
Sex with him was the animal needing to be tamed. His grip and his fire.
They were both necessary and both wonderful but wholly different.
So she and I went to bed in her tiny flat in the coldest early morning hours and I smelt of her for days after. In fact, we barely made it to the bed. Closing the front door, she grabbed me and bit my neck, grabbed my waist and slamming me against it. I was surprised and didn’t do anything because she was so much smaller than me but had power radiating from her very being like magic. She did as she pleased, undressing me to her specifications. She shrugged off her jacket and unzipped my coat, and these just seemed to vanish. My t shirt she pushed up so my breasts were exposed and she only admonished me once, muttering.
“Fucking jeans. Sex cryptonite. Just wear a dress next time, ok? Or leggings. Something I can get into without a crowbar. I can even feel how wet you are through them. It’s fucking torture.” she bent and bit my nipple to hammer the point home and I could only moan and think she was right; I’d wanted to fuck her from our first conversation. She’d pointedly stared at the cleavage I was sporting the day we met. I should have known one of us would instigate. Forever after with her I wore the simplest outfits I could, knowing we’d be out of them sooner rather than later.
“Times like these, I wish I had a cock. I’d fuck you til you couldn’t walk.” she moaned, grinding her thigh against my sodden crotch, where I was soaking through the denim. I still held the beer bottle in my hand from the pub, and grinned at her as I raised it to my lips, wetting the neck. As she was rubbing against me as much as I was against her, it was easy to reach under her skirt and yank her knickers to one side.
She was watching me, pure lust and excitement in her eyes. She knew what I was thinking, she knew what I was going to do as I drew it out, teasing, licking the bottle until my spit ran down its length, but she was so wet it went in easily anyway. The noise she made as the ridged shaft entered her was exquisite, and bracing herself against me she growled into my shoulder.
“You filthy bitch.” And it was true.
I think it must have been the sheer wrongness of fucking her with a Wetherspoon’s beer bottle that tipped her over the edge.
“You like this, don’t you?”
“Ohhh, Yes! Shit. Fuck. FUCK that feels good. Oh YES rub my clit, make me cum harder than that. Make me scream. Fuck.” she groaned, her body falling against me, the bottle falling from my hand and rolling away. We kissed like we had done in the pub, where teenage boys had jeered and egged us on in equal measure.
She unbuttoned my jeans with shaking fingers and rubbed them between my thighs, making the material hot and damp.
“Looks like I made the right choice tonight, sacking him off so I could taste your cunt.”
“I fucking hope you tell him that.” I groaned, grabbing her wrist and making her rub harder.
“Oh I will. He likes stories. He likes me fucking other girls.”
“They always do.” I agreed, my back sliding down the varnished surface of the door until we were both sat on the welcome mat. She pulled my jeans off, but not my knickers, clearly enjoying torturing me through the sodden fabric.
“Mine sends these oh so casual texts every now and again to see if I’m face deep in some pussy yet. Unhhhhh, fuck. Can I take my knickers off? I’m desperate.”
“We should take photos.” She replied, ignoring my request and making her strokes lighter instead. “Tease them. Let them know we have other, better options.”
But then she lay down on her belly and started sucking on my wet knickers and the subject was dropped. She traced her tongue over the curves and dips of my cunt, working the material into the groove where my clit sat, throbbing impatiently. She made me cum without ever having to remove them, chafing my body against the rough, fibrous mat and then she made me bend over so she could examine the raw red marks on my arse.
Her bedroom was a box, she still slept in a single bed with a Disney Princess duvet cover, but there was enough space to lie on our sides, kissing and grinding all over again. She reached under her bed and produced a strap on. Teasing me with it.
“Next time.” She said in a sing-song voice. “Next time you’re going to fuck me with this strap on, but not tonight, baby. I’m a good girl. I don’t fuck on a first date.”
I, the harlot who had violated her with a craft beer bottle, kept my mouth shut. There was plenty we could do together besides pretending we had cocks. She put the strap on back under the bed and produced a box.
“Take what you need to turn you on.” she said with sleepy, wicked eyes. “It’s all clean and sanitary, I’m very thorough.”
There were vibrators – rabbits, wands, butterflies – dildoes of various lengths and colours. Chains and things to pinch deliciously. But I knew what I wanted.
“Lie down.” I told her, and she did so. I took the most basic bullet vibrator from the box and tested the speed functions on my fingertip.
“Pretty good. Pretty powerful.”
“It does the trick. He watches sometimes. He likes to see me use it.”
“I bet he does. Mine does too. Let’s stop talking about the boys, though.”
I got her off quickly, alternating the vibe and my tongue, two fingers in her but not as much as she clearly wanted. As she climaxed she grunted “YOU FUCKING BITCH TEASE!” and pulled my head closer to her cunt.
“If you’re going to tease you’re going to clean me up, too.” and I dutifully licked the creamy residue from her.
“You taste of beer.”
“And who’s fault is that?” She laughed, and we spooned on the narrow bed, falling asleep as the sun rose.
So soon I was balancing seeing two people at once. Cavorting with a pixie princess on late mornings then submitting to a powerful beast under the cover of darkness. Once he picked me up from work after a late shift and drove me to a deserted car park. It was the coldest spring I’d known.
“I missed you.” He said, after he’d parked up. “I missed your cunt.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
I nearly asked him if he’d met any nice girls but he had me flat on the passenger seat with his fingers slid deeply inside me before I could even get the question out. As he pawed at my chest and bit the soft skin of my neck, my eyebrows knit together briefly. His technique seemed different, more considered. Usually we both knew all I needed was as much of him inside me short of fisting; the power of his body pummelling me until I was jelly. He was taking his time, almost delicately. He kissed down over my chest and the fullness of the flesh spilling out of my dress and still his fingers performed their tasks, and I began to shudder, tingle, my toes curling into the footwell. As I came, he bit me and left a bruise in the fat beneath my right breast.
I stared at the ceiling, gathering my thoughts as he unfastened his flies and straddled me, rubbing the head of his cock over the wet lips of my cunt.
As he pushed the first inch inside, I moaned.
“Who have you been learning from?”
He didn’t reply, concentrating on working himself into the pussy he hadn’t fucked for a month; that had only had fingers or dildos inside it and hadn’t been stretched since our last proper date. The pain was a reminder of how good those dates could be.
“She’s teaching you well, that’s all. I approve…”
“Shut up.” He admonished, thrusting the full length inside, unceremoniously.
“Shut up yourself, you love it when I tease. It’s nice to have something different, that’s all. Mmf. Harder.”
The car began to shake as he pounded me, his hands braced against my thighs.
“Harder!” I called again and he shoved the fingers that had been inside my cunt, into my mouth to shut me up properly. The only sounds were his thighs meeting mine, the car rocking back and forth, and his grunts building until he blew his load so deep inside me I could feel my belly straining.
Over texts the next day, I tried to probe him a little more about the other girls on the scene.
“Girl.” he responded during a quiet moment.
“Girl, then. Is she like me, or my opposite?”
“Equal. You’re equal. Smaller tits. Shorter. Rougher.”
“What, like council estate rough?”
“No, sex rough. Bruises rough.”
I was intrigued.
The next day I went round to hers for dinner and… dessert. She answered the door wearing knickers and a t shirt.
“Have you had an accident?” I said, leaning to kiss her and reaching up to cup her breasts.
“Pizza’s on it’s way.” she said by way of an explanation as we parted.
“I thought you were cooking for us? I brought two kinds of wine because I didn’t know what we were having.” I produced the bottles from my bag and she took them.
“Red goes with pepperoni and white goes with ham and pineapple. Perfect. Get yourself comfortable in the front room.” she turned and meandered to the back of the flat.
The sofas were spread with blankets and pillows, crowded around the tiny TV.
“Clothes off, please. They are not optional in my blanket fort. You know how I feel about sex kryptonite.” she called from the kitchen.
With no real option, I took off my shoes, jeans, and with a little hesitation, my shirt, too, crawling under the nearest quilt to keep warm.
“Excellent.” She nodded on her return, bearing a tray with the wines, two glasses and a bowl of crisps. “Budge up.”
We snuggled and watched The Expendables for half an hour, until she got a text telling her the pizza was 5 minutes away.
“Showtime!” she said to me with a grin, and peeled off her t shirt with a flourish, her bra following suit seconds later. The silver bars through her nipples caught the light tantalisingly.
“You’re not going out there like that, are you?”
“Are you shocked? Do you think I’m a slut?”
I registered the damp, twitchy feeling in my knickers.
“No…” I said slowly.
“Just listen.” She said as the room was briefly illuminated by headlights and she went to the front door. I did as I was told, and heard her opening it to greet the delivery person.
“Sorry about the-” The voice cut off as the visitor realised she was topless.
“Oh it’s fine, we made our own entertainment whilst we waited, didn’t we, babe?”
“Yes,” I called back, after a pause.
“Would you like to feel? Be gentle. That’s right…”
There was a long pause and imagining what she was doing, expecting but not knowing, made me wetter.
“So that’s a medium pepperoni, medium Hawaiian and chicken strips? Perfect. Here’s your tip. Bye.”
The door was locked and bolted and she reappeared, pink faced and grinning.
“He didn’t know what to do, bless him. Can’t have been more than twenty. Let me get some plates.”
She disappeared to the kitchen again, the water ran briefly and she came back with two warm dinner plates, setting them down on the coffee table.
“Have you kept it warm for me?”
I pulled back the quilt, but instead of climbing under it, she laid across it and cupped my mount matter of factly.
“Hot and dripping. Perfect.” She murmured, peeling back the damp material and burying her face there, the pizza, the wine, Sylvester Stallone, all forgotten.
I looked back over her bum and the backs of her legs. There was a reddish bruise, fading above the back of one of her knees. It looked painful.
“You saw a boy earlier in the week, didn’t you?”
She kissed my thigh, and two of her fingers slipped inside. They twisted and tickled but she didn’t add more to fill me. She wanted to tease.
Much as I was enjoying it, I did feel I’d have to point out.
“The pizza will be getting cold.”
“I’ll be quick, then.” she growled and bit my thigh and her fingers moved at speed, her lips pursing around my clit and there was a moment of deja vu before I felt my back tense and she giggled when the release came wetly over her face.
“Yum yum, time for pizza.” She licked her fingers clean and pulled the blankets back over us, dragging the pizza box onto her lap.