Hello everybody it’s me again, Davina, everyone’s favourite Velma Dinkley lookalike (Velma being a star of Scooby-Doo, if you don’t know). I’m not going to bother with a lengthy intro. Let’s just say that this is the tenth in a series of consecutive stories about my rather adventurous sex life. And that I am doing my best to make each story readable in itself. In other words you shouldn’t have to read all the previous tell-tales to make sense out of this one.
When I left you last time I was enjoying my first ever wife-swap. Without further ado I’m going to pick it up from the morning after.
The agreement was to meet in my local pub at noon to hand back the borrowed “wives”. Alice and I consequently stopped mauling each other around eleven thirty. Heading off for a shared shower, she pointed to a closed door across the landing.
‘What’s in there?’
‘It’s my guest room. Not that anyone ever sleeps in it. Well, apart from me when I was renovating and the mistress bedroom was uninhabitable.’
‘What’s a mistress bedroom when it’s at home?’
‘Don’t ask,’ said I, ‘you know the deal.’
Alice did. And she laughed. ‘We need to go fuck in it right away, ‘she said decisively. ‘I urgently want to be able to tell Ross we fucked in every last room of the house.’
‘Yes,’ said I drily, ‘and not to mention on every last step of the staircase.’ Then, duly prompted by one of my alter egos, Logical Dave, I warned her that we’d end up running late.
‘Knowing Ross, so will he. Come on girl; get your sexy ass in there.’
Arguing the toss would only have wasted more time so I obeyed and let her yummy mouth eat me for maybe half an hour. Then we showered (in the bathroom, Alice’s sixth and final room) and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Yes, more that fifteen hours in bed, next to no sleep at all and we were still hotter than hot for more.
‘A repeat next Friday is a must,’ Alice said when we were back in my room, dressing.
‘You can repeat tonight for me,’ I replied, watching her don a skimpy black thong before wriggling into skin-tight blue jeans.
‘I’m afraid not. We’re both working in the morning. Me and Ross, I mean.’
‘On a Sunday,’ I exclaimed. ‘I thought only IT nerds worked Sundays.’
‘No rest for the wicked . . . or the NHS. Working Sundays is the reason why Friday is playtime for us.’
I was still watching her dress. By then she’d put on a white push-up bra and got a matching T-shirt out of her overnight bag. And knock me down with a feather, I wanted her again.
Yes, I wanted to rip those sexy denims off her even sexier ass and . . .
And Logical wagged a finger at me, pointedly looking at her watch.
‘Friday it is then,’ I said heroically. ‘You persuade Ross and I’ll sweet-talk Kat.’
My choice of clothing didn’t look nearly as good on me as Alice’s did on her. I’d gone for my usual (not tight-fitting) jeans and a white T of my own. No prizes for guessing who’d get The Busfeild customers’ attention that lunchtime. Even without the use of any sort of cosmetics Alice was shockingly attractive.
Indeed, although her makeup was usually tastefully applied, I reckoned she looked lots better without any at all. Like her clothing was always perfection but still she looked better without any at all.
If only we’d had another hour or three!
Locking up behind us I took Alice’s hand and led her down the garden path (literally!). Surrounded as they were by an eight-feet-high hedge, my cottage and its neighbour were in an oasis of privacy. You wouldn’t have known busy Main Road ran right past . . . apart from the constant growl of car engines, that is.
‘Ideal for naked sunbathing,’ Alice remarked as we went.
‘My neighbour is deaf but not blind,’ said I. ‘I’ve done topless but naked would give him a heart attack. He’s eighty-three, you see. And I’m sure he thinks I’m a bloke.
‘I thought you just said he wasn’t blind.’
Laughing, I went through the garden gate and almost collided with Joyce, on her way to the pub.
‘Fancy bumping into you,’ she said, smiling. But her expression quickly changed as she saw Alice. She stared at her a moment and briefly glanced at me before going on. ‘Why Kat, you’ve changed your hair.’
Presuming Alice didn’t know Joyce and wouldn’t be used to her acerbic wit, I hastily introduced them.
‘Joyce runs Credit Control at our place,’ I added. ‘And don’t worry about Kat,’ I told Joyce, ‘she knows all about Alice. I’m not sneaking around behind her back.’
‘Hmmm,’ went Joyce. ‘I’ll have words with you later, young lady.’
‘Who was that,’ Alice asked as soon as she was out of earshot, ‘your mother?’
‘Like I said, she’s a departmental head at the Widget Company. But I admit, she does tend to be a bit of a mother hen.’
‘Are you fucking her?’
Direct or what!
‘Yes,’ I confessed, ‘but only when Kat’s off on her travels. It happens a lot when she’s away. When she’s back I act porno indir all faithful, mostly because I’ve got my hands full with Kat and there simply isn’t time for anyone else. Joyce is probably miffed to find out we changed the rules and didn’t let her know.’
‘Will she tell you off?’
‘You bet she will. I’ll probably get my ass smacked.’ I grinned at Alice and added: ‘With any luck.’
It was one o’clock when we took a right into the car park, me happy to see Maxine 2 exactly where I’d left her. And I was happy to see Kat and Ross too. They were entering the car park from the bus stop end, every bit as late as we were. More promisingly still, even though they weren’t holding hands, they did look like a couple.
‘How did it go?’ Alice asked as they joined us by the currently (and unusually) empty smoking shelter. ‘Did you get in your round of golf?’
‘We went round twice and played the full eighteen,’ Ross said smartly.
‘We both shot sixty-nines,’ said Kat, not to be outdone. ‘I got more birdies but Ross got an eagle.’
They could have been talking Swahili as far as I was concerned.
‘What’s an eagle?’ I asked like an idiot.
‘A hole in two,’ said Ross.
‘No,’ Kat corrected, ‘one in two holes. Or was it two in three holes?’
The others laughed at that while I could have died of embarrassment.
‘It went well then,’ I ventured.
‘It went swimmingly,’ Ross assured me. ‘And no, l didn’t lose my balls in the canal.’
Even I understood that. We laughed as a foursome then he spoke formally.
‘Here’s Kat back, good as new and in full working order. I’m sorry to see her go.’
‘Here’s Alice back in full working order,’ I replied, just as prim and proper. ‘I examined all parts of her and thoroughly tested them. I could even give you a guarantee if you want.’
Over drinks and lunch in the restaurant we chatted generally, tacitly avoiding the subject of the night before until Alice put in her oar.
‘We need to vote on next Friday,’ she said, interrupting a half-hearted discussion on the forthcoming EU referendum (naturally not knowing what a disastrous outcome it would have). ‘We’ve both already voted, Dave and me. We want to do it again next week.’
So much for my lengthy, sweet-talking intentions!
‘I’m up for more,’ Ross said immediately.
I was watching Kat, my heart in my mouth. She’d fancied Alice herself and had only gone for the swap as a big favour for me. Would she go for it a second time or would she protest?
‘Can’t be the odd one out,’ she said cheerfully enough. ‘My vote’s with the ayes.’
We were in the middle bar and I was on my fourth pint when I remembered the shopping. Rats! It was six miles to ASDA and I never got behind the wheel when I was anywhere near the drink-driving limit, never mind twice over it. I pointed this out to Kat and she shrugged.
‘We’ll have to go in the morning,’ she said. ‘I’ll skip church for once.’
That caused more laughter. Kat respected other people’s religious beliefs but had none herself.
‘She only ever attends weddings and funerals,’ I told our companions. ‘And then she’s as nervous as heck. What’s that saying about the type of girl who is nervous in church?’
Neither Ross nor Alice took up the challenge but I could see they knew what I meant.
So too did Kat. ‘Davina,’ she purred, ‘I’m never half as nervous as you are. I wonder why on earth that could possibly be.’
To my surprise Alice finished her drink and got to her feet. ‘Come on you,’ she said to Ross, ‘let’s be having you.’
Alarmed, assuming she had beliefs she hadn’t previously mentioned, I caught her hand. ‘Please say we haven’t offended you.’
She frowned a moment, going back over the conversation until she realized why I was concerned. ‘Of course you haven’t,’ she assured me. Then, leaning closer and lowering her voice, ‘If you must know we have a tradition after a swap. It’s a sort of horizontal re-bonding exercise, if you know what I mean. I want to get on with it before Ross drinks that eagling hero of his into a state of floppiness.’
‘Too much information,’ said Ross, grinning widely.
‘Friday night then,’ said I, letting go of Alice’s hand. ‘Although I’m sure our paths will cross before.’
‘Friday night,’ she agreed. ‘I’m counting the minutes already.’
Faced with no appetizing meal options at home, Kat and I decided to dine in The Busfeild. But don’t think we stayed there permanently. Leaving around three, soon after Ross and Alice, we went for a hike up in Sunnydale. Leastways I hiked and Kat moaned about sore feet. Yes that’s right; Katrina the Globetrotter got sore feet after only a couple of miles.
For anyone unaware of East Morton’s geography (meaning most of you, at a guess), Sunnydale is an uphill haven containing lots of trees, a reservoir and Morton Beck. Nowadays it teems with wildlife but a couple of centuries ago it was gripped by the Industrial Revolution. Mills sprang up, rokettube powered by that small beck, producing paper for banknotes and spinning both cotton and wool.
The mills, together with most of the cottages that housed swarms of workers from all over Britain, are as good as gone these days. But some cottages remain occupied and, if you know where to look, bits of old engine house and mill dams can still be seen, buried deep in undergrowth.
Not that I really wanted to inspect old ruins. Lately I had cut back on climbing and as good as dropped hiking altogether. It was time to make amends and get in six miles or so; six miles of up-hill and down-dale. Ignoring Kat’s whingeing, I thoroughly enjoyed the fresh air and exercise.
I enjoyed dining back in the pub restaurant too, and was looking forward to a boozy evening when Kat ruled otherwise.
‘I’m in urgent need of horizontal re-bonding,’ she told me. ‘And tonight I am “it”.’
I suggested just two more drinks and she grudgingly complied. She wasn’t up for relenting after two pints, either.
‘You need to drive in the morning,’ she said sternly. ‘Enough is enough.’
Enough wasn’t enough in bed, though. Kat had me for hours, varying from her mouth and fingers via a dildo, two vibrators and a strap-on. Her sexual onslaught was impressive, even by her exceptionally high standards. Little did I know but she was playing me at my own game. I only realized that as I was drifting off to sated sleep and she asked me a question.
‘Would you really do anything for me?’
‘You know I would,’ I murmured.
‘You’re just saying that. I’d do anything for you but you just pay lip service.’
‘No I don’t.’
‘Okay then. Next Friday you sleep with Ross.’
My eyes shot open with an audible click, exactly as Kat’s had when I proposed a wife-swap in the first place.
‘I don’t do guys,’ I protested.
But Kat was relentless. ‘I know you have your gold star to take into consideration, she said, ‘but, if you really would do anything for me, you’d at least weigh the pros and cons.’
‘You are being unfair.’
‘No I’m not, I’m following the letter of the law. And I don’t see you even trying.’
That stung me, but not into instant capitulation. ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll do a little weighing,’ I stalled, hastily summoning my two alter egos and both my guardian angels.
(Well, my guardian angel and my evil red devil; I needed as many viewpoints on this as possible.)
There’s a turn up, Logical Dave began. She’s called your bluff.
She’s being awful, the little white angel butted in. She knows you’ll have to say no and that then you’ll have broken your promise to do anything for her. And you never break a promise. Awful; she’s being absolutely awful.
Maybe she isn’t, my little red devil observed. Maybe she’s doing you another big favour. You like to be penetrated, don’t you? And let’s face it; you’re not totally ignorant when it comes to hard cocks.
I mused a while on that. My first romantic kiss had been with a guy. It had been his eighteenth and I’d accepted his request to dance. And me with my two left feet! I’d let him steer us around the floor and quite enjoyed the feel of his hips moving with mine, controlling my clumsiness. Accepting his request for a birthday kiss had been a no-brainer. Nobody could dream of declining a dance and a kiss with a birthday boy, could they?
Not on his eighteenth.
Confession time: that kiss hadn’t ignited wild fires in me but it had been nice. And feeling his arousal on my tummy had been . . . interesting.
God only knows what I’d have said if he’d invited me outside for a quickie. I mean where do you draw lines for the birthday boy?
Anyway he never asked and I escaped with my virginity intact but my lifetime experience enhanced.
I’d had some more recent, less tactile contact with a real-life cock as well (if that’s not a contradiction in terms). Visiting Ellie in Oxford I’d taken part in a foursome involving a guy, hadn’t I? Okay he never so much as touched me, but I’d certainly seen him pounding it into both of my lady-friends. To be very blunt, I had seen him cum more than once. And I’d even witnessed his white semen slowly oozing out of Ellie before trickling down her inside leg.
Ellie and her friend hadn’t died from the guy’s attentions. On the contrary, they’d revelled in everything he’d done to and for them.
As had most of the girls in the videos Kat insisted on watching. My pussy was the same as any other girl’s. It was designed to accommodate an erect penis. Taking one wasn’t going to do me any harm.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Fervent Dave wondered. It can’t kill you and it might be fun.
‘Alice was wrong,’ Kat said aloud, disrupting our conference. ‘Ross isn’t eight inches, he is more like ten. And his staying power is exceptional.’
Go for it, Fervent endorsed. He’ll be your biggest ever.
He’d be your biggest if he only had two inches,’ said Logical wryly, him being porno your first, obviously.
Please don’t do it, wailed the angel, please don’t.
Please yourself and please do it, the devil countered.
I suppose that promises are promises, Logical added a little reluctantly, if you want to maintain your integrity . . .
‘Okay Kat,’ my mouth said unaided, ‘I’ll do it for you.’
‘Will you really?’ Kat seemed surprised.
‘I promised I’d do anything so I’ll do this for you. And I owe you one, anyway.’
She kissed me passionately and then licked her way down my body, taking her time about it but finally getting there, bringing me off once, twice, thrice. Then she licked her way back up, taking care to rest her lovely tits on my flat chest before grinning down at me.
‘Worry not, my darling. No fucking way are you sleeping with Ross, not this Friday or any other Friday, come to that. What you have is too precious.’
‘But I promised you . . .
‘And you kept your promise to the letter. I’m here and now absolving you of the need to fulfil it.’
Relief flooded through me. My little white angel shrieked in delight while Fervent scowled and my devil laughed scornfully.
Logical, meanwhile, stood on the sidelines with a knowing smile.
‘I still owe you one,’ I announced as my heartbeat re-approached something like normal. ‘And come to that, assuming you are going to do Ross again on my behalf on Friday, I owe you two.’
Kat laughed and asked if I was sleepy.
‘Not anymore. You’ve woken me back up.’ My hand landed on her pussy, stroking it the way she liked best. ‘Tell me what you want and it’s yours.’
‘Go get that tea tree oil from the bathroom.’
‘Sounds kinky,’ I snickered. ‘What have you got in mind?’
‘My feet,’ she replied.
‘Your feet sound very kinky indeed.’
‘Well they don’t feel kinky. All I want is you to massage oil into them for an hour or so, and very gently at that. Once my blisters stop hurting I’ll decide how you can pay off debt number two . . .’
‘Fuck me,’ said I, ‘I get all the glamorous jobs . . .’
That second swap was a signal success. Overnight the bog-standard “Dress-Down Friday” became “Wife-Swap Friday”. To tell the truth, although I knew Kat was getting bored of screwing Ross every week, I only wanted more of Alice and she only wanted more of me. Doing my best to oil the waters I regularly reminded Kat that I was sharing a bed six nights a week with her. And that I was also giving her the lead more often than not.
(Yes, I know: being a pillow queen and giving her the lead was rather selfish of me. But it’s what she seemed to want, so I usually played along like a good little girl.)
Then, out of simply nowhere, everything changed.
To this day I don’t know exactly what Alice and Ross did for the NHS. They were cagey about it. Best I got to know was they were part of an “advisory team” who were sent around the UK plugging gaps in performance.
Or maybe in Alice’s case, she was plugging dikes with her finger, like that little Dutch boy.
And omigod, I don’t believe I said that! Please excuse me and make sure you read “dike” without a Y!!
Before West Morton our friends and lovers had been situated in Gloucester with their workmates. But then they’d been sent up north to sort out issues in a Victorian hospital in Bradford. Usually it took the best part of a year for their team to do their thing, but not this time. This time they were transferred to (of all places) Coventry after only eight months.
The speed of it was mind-blowing. One Wednesday evening in the pub they solemnly told us that they had to leave and then, after a final Friday night, Saturday morning, they were gone.
Their house was, it transpired, leased by the NHS. So too would be their new home in the Midlands. It was a lifestyle that suited their personalities, so why not?
Examining myself with all the benefit of hindsight, I might have become unduly demanding when Alice was out of the frame. Missing that one night of freedom a week seemed to be a massive loss. Oh yes I missed the girl herself, but it was the loss of freedom that brought on itchy feet.
And eventually, as I implied once before, I fucked up in a big way.
Spring 2015 and Kat’s travel time was approaching again. By then she’d visited a hundred and eleven different countries and admitted to having some sort of sex in at least half of them. But, she invariably added, never in the Vatican City. Apparently women were rarities there and most of the men were far too old . . . even for her.
At work Key Phase Four was about to overrun but not disastrously. The powers-that-be offered Kat a nice bonus to stay an extra month and do her best to break the new IT system before they switched “Legacy” off for ever. Kat knew that there were advanced testing apps but was firmly of the opinion that humans were far better at breaking systems than mere programmes. So she said yes and bagged the dosh.
That stay with me had been far and away Kat’s longest. Five weeks to go until she rode off again into the sunset my feet were itchier than ever. Unbeknown to my live-in lover, I had amassed quite a long queue of former girlfriends, all eager to get reacquainted.