Angie's Sapphic Service

This story is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. It is not meant to be big on realism. It's a fantasy, and little more than a gratuitous vehicle for lesbian sex. I make no excuses for it.

(Thanks to my partner Suzy, for the story idea, and for her inspiration and contributions)

All characters are fictitious, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Hi, I'm Angie, 26 years old, English, single, independent, and lesbian. I'm 5'7" tall, with curly dark hair, a bit curvy, and quite busty, with the kind of bum that Freddy Mercury sang about long ago. Apparently, I make the rockin' world go round, though I'm not sure how he found that out.

I'm also very highly-sexed and very open-minded - useful with the lifestyle I've adopted which is, you might say, unconventional; I have a nice little hobby, providing sexual favours, free of charge, to lonely lesbians all over the country, and occasionally beyond. It's beneficial to them, and it's beneficial to me, so a win all round, I'd say.

Free of charge? Yes, I'm not a prostitute. I have a respectable and lucrative job, and have no need to charge for my favours. I just like sex, and the wonderful diversity of women. This way, I get to explore a little. Of course, I COULD charge - maybe - but that would change the whole feel of it, so I don't.

What follows is the story of how and why I got into this, and how my first three encounters went. It wasn't quite what I expected.

***

"Angie's Sapphic Service - I cum to you!"

It's difficult when you love pussy as much as I do and you're not getting much, and three years ago, I wasn't. Fingers and toys are OK, but nothing beats having another body to love and be loved by.

I was between relationships and I was feeling deprived. I'd had a few dates, and a few one night stands, but I needed more. Much more.

My last steady relationship had been months before, and it was too much like hard work. Steph was pretty high-maintenance really, and she couldn't match my sex drive anyway, so it was never going to last for long.

After we finished, I joined every friggin' lesbian community on the 'net, not really sure what I was looking for; a girlfriend, or just some casual sex? I don't know. I just felt like I needed... SOMETHING, and I did make a couple of connections, but nothing developed from them. I was casting about blindly. Groping in the dark.

Then a light came on. I'd noticed that there were an awful lot of single, frustrated lesbians out there, crying out to meet someone. Craving some intimacy and, yes, probably some sex. I figured that a lot of these women would probably be feeling horny and deprived, like me, and I wondered... if I offered a sexual service - a free bit of intimacy and gratification, with absolutely zero strings attached - would I get any takers?

I decided to see. I took some photos of myself, in lingerie and makeup, looking as sultry and seductive as I could, and began making my availability known, offering casual, no commitment lesbian sex with me, for free, and I was amazed at the interest it generated. Lots of gay women seemed to fancy a bit of me.

Unfortunately, most of the initial flurry of interest was from women who were just dreaming, because they were in the US, or Australia, or somewhere. 'OMG you're so hot. I wish you were nearer,' or words to that effect, was a frequent comment. I guess my photos must have been quite presentable.

I spiced up my postings a little more - 'Your fantasies are my speciality,' etc. and got plenty of flattering and gratifying comments, but none were from nearby, unfortunately. Until "boobytrap" showed up.

Lori

"Boobytrap" was actually Lori (Lorraine) and, joy of joys, she was English and, it transpired, only about an hour's drive away from me. We started messaging privately as soon as she commented on one of my posts, and it soon seemed like we might actually get together.

She described herself vaguely as '... in my thirties, average height, average weight, average looking...' she wasn't really telling me anything, but she did say her boobs were about the only non-average thing about her. 'They are on the large side, hence my username,' she said, well that made two of us.

When she shared a picture though, I realised that 'on the large side' was a bit of an understatement. I wanted to get my hands (and lips) on them there and then.

We moved onto phone conversation; 'Are you for real?' she asked. 'I mean, I wonder if this is a scam of some kind, but if it is a scam I can't see the point of it.'

'No, it's no scam. I'm just a horny girl, and I imagine you are too, so it's just common sense for horny girls to get together, don't you think?'

'Yeah, yeah, I'm up for it. Definitely. When can you come...?'

The very next Saturday saw me hurtling up the motorway, with her address in the sat-nav, images of her cleavage in my head, and a certain glow in my pussy.

She lived in a pretty ordinary little semi, in the midlands, but I wasn't bothered about that. As long as it had a bedroom, it was fine. I wasn't planning to move in or anything.

She met me at the door, wearing nothing but a purple satin negligée, and her baps looked even better in the flesh. The negligée provided almost zero support, but there they were, bold and bodacious, with no hint of sag. Impressive. I loved the way they seemed to have a life of their own, bustling beautifully under the thin, shiny fabric with every movement she made.

I had dressed quite provocatively too, with a slinky, stretchy red dress and black stockings. The glint in her eye told me she liked what she saw.

We kissed, a little awkwardly, and my heart was thumping as I followed her into the lounge. I'd been quite laissez-faire about this arrangement so far, but now I was here, in her house, with her, in the flesh, my excitement and anticipation went through the roof.

'I can't believe we're actually doing this,' she said. 'It feels so... flagrant.'

'Yeh. Exciting, isn't it?'

She chuckled and looked coy. 'Well now that you're here, what are you going to do with me?'

'Anything you want.'

'Ooo, ANYTHING?'

'Yes.'

'Let's try that kiss again...' We came together, and this time there was no awkwardness. We went straight into a full-on French kiss. Full of lust and hunger. I could almost feel her desire oozing out of her. In fact I DID feel it. I brought my hand up between her legs, lifting the hem of her gown until I found her hot lips, which were slick with her glorious girl goo. She'd obviously been going without for a very long time.

She gasped slightly, and I brought my hand up to our mouths so we could share her taste, which was salty and delicious. We both groaned.

She wasn't the only one who had been going without, and my own pussy was also revved and raring to go. I lifted the hem of my dress and slipped my hand inside my knickers, pushing them down until they were stretched around my thighs just under my bum cheeks. The gusset was slimy with my cunny honey and, like hers, my lips were beautifully slippery.

I gathered some on my fingers and brought them up for her to taste; subtly different from her flavour but no less intoxicating. We groaned again, and tongue-fenced over my pinguid digits, just savouring the moreish taste of female sex. I never tire of it.

We were both alight with lust and desire now and she grabbed my hand and led me up to her bedroom. As we climbed the stairs, I was letching over her ample bum cheeks. She wasn't quite as well-endowed as me in the bum department, but it was still a very fulsome eyeful.

When we got into her boudoir, we both got naked as quickly as possible. Her negligée came off instantly, revealing an almost prefect body. Average it was not. Her tits were to die for. I mean, I've always been a boob girl, and pretty proud of my girls, but hers were just... wow.

I whipped off my dress and dropped my soggy panties, and I was just unhooking my bra when she dropped to her knees in front of me, saying 'Leave your stockings on, Angie, they're gorge.'

They were a pair of very black hold-ups, with broad, patterned welts, and a slight sheen to them. They were super sexy and they looked great on my quite full thighs, even if I say so myself.

She sat back against the bed and said, 'Come here, I want to eat you.' Well, who was I to argue...?

I straddled her and she urged me forward with her hands on my bum cheeks, breathing 'Ohh, fuck you're so sexy.' She gazed at my pussy from inches away and groaned, 'Oh it's been so long.'

I moved forward and let her look up at me for a moment, her eyes shining with a prurient fervour, then I bent my legs until my labia kissed her mouth. She closed her eyes and began noisily slurping at my wetness, tonguing my hole and nuzzling my clit, and - oh my fucking God - I couldn't stand it. I took hold of her bleached blonde head with both hands, and fucked her face until a hot orgasmic flood bathed her tongue and made her gag, momentarily.

I jerked and jerked against her as my climax subsided, then I fell forward onto the bed, panting into the duvet. She got up and flung herself down next to me on her back, gasping, 'Fucking hell, fucking hell, fucking hell,' as she frigged herself wildly.

I got myself together rapidly, and rolled over between her legs. I didn't want her to wank herself to orgasm. I wanted to do it for her. I grabbed her arm, to stop her from coming, replaced her fingers with mine, then I pumped them in and out of her squelching hole as I licked her clit lustily, driving her to a squealing orgasm.

She was astonishingly wet, and when she came, her orgasm juice was oh-so sapid and copious, dribbling out of her for what seemed like minutes as I licked and lapped, and sucked as if I were feeding at the well of life itself.

Jeezus, this was hot! I think we'd both been in desperate need and our passion was palpable. The room was heavy with the aroma of hot pussy, and I love the aroma of hot pussy. It's guaranteed to get me going again, post-orgasm.

I moved up and squeezed her wondrous tits together. They were magnificent, full and round, and topped with the tightest of aroused, scrunched up nipples. I kissed one, and she giggled slightly. 'These are just gorgeous, Lori,' I gushed, as I kissed the other, then started very slowly licking and twirling my tongue around them, savouring their wrinkly firmness.

'Oh, God, I love having my tits sucked,' she moaned, and I stepped up my attention, swapping from one to the other, then back, flicking them with my tongue, suckling them with my lips, and nibbling them softly.

'Oh, oh, yeah, like that, like that..' Her hand went to her pussy and she started fingering herself again, conjuring up another orgasm. Coaxing it to life. Nurturing it with deft strokes and caresses of her fingers, while I helped it along by making rapt love to her wonderful breasts.

She came again, with a shudder that made her boobs jiggle delightfully, and I slowed and stopped my oral attentions and just lay with my head pillowed on her bosom, and my own tits squished against her stomach.

We lay like this for a while, and then she stirred. 'I think I owe you another come,' she said, and I rolled off her and onto my back. She followed so she was on top of me, and started doing the same to my tits as I'd just done to hers; 'Mm, these are pretty impressive, Angie. I love how soft they are, and how hard your nipples are.' She closed her eyes and rubbed her mouth and nose over one of my little nubs with a sigh.

Burying her face deep in my cleavage, she squeezed my boobs against her cheeks and inhaled deeply. 'Oh God, I've missed this. This is heaven.' I knew what she meant. It was the intimacy.

Is there anything more intimate than eating pussy? I don't think so, and she began to kiss her way down over my belly until her lips found my mons and my patch of curly pubes, where she paused. She kissed my little thatch and looked up at me with the lewdest smile, then slowly sank down between my legs, trailing her tongue down into my soft welcoming valley.

The way she ate me was extraordinary. She made love to my pussy, adored it. Her little moans and groans, and the way she seemed to savour every second, every sensation, every scent, every taste, just added so much to the experience. She wasn't merely licking my pussy, she was revering it, exalting in it. I'd never experienced it quite like that before.

My orgasm rose with sensorial slowness. The plateau of my arousal was already high, but Lori's heavenly cunnilingus lifted it even higher, into the realms of Elysium, and the thrill penetrated the very core of me. Rarely have I been so wet, or felt such a sustained succession of vaginal spasms.

When the peak came, it was like my body was melting, dissolving into a cloud of pink mist, and I just lay, insensible. Taken over by orgasmic rapture.

The mist took a while to clear, and she just lay between my legs, gazing at my twitching clit, and licking her lips. I opened my eyes and looked down at her, and she smiled. 'Oh, I love a responsive woman,' she said, then she scooped up some cream which was trickling down the inside of my bum cheek, and sucked her fingers with relish.

After we'd roused ourselves and showered, she made me a coffee and we chatted. 'Thanks, Angie, I'm really glad we did this.'

'Thank YOU, Lori, it's been a trip.'

'Can we do it again sometime?'

'Yeh, of course. It doesn't have to be a one-off.'

As I drove home, I thought, hmm, that was good. I shall do more of this and, apart from the actual sex we'd just had, I knew I would get more orgasms from Lori, courtesy of my fingers and my memory.

Brie

It had been three weeks since Lori. My accursed period had been and gone, and it had left me feeling unquenchably horny, as it always does. No amount of masturbation could quell this horniness, but that didn't stop me trying.

I woke one morning feeling hot and bothered. The sun was streaming through the curtains and the room was warm and stuffy. I flung the covers back and lay there naked and a little clammy. Nope. Still too warm.

I got up and opened the window slightly, and the door, then I lay on the bed again. Feeling the very slight breeze from the window cooling my skin.

I thought back to Lori and her fabulous breasts, and I pushed my own up and together until they filled most of my view. They were a pretty impressive pair too, especially now my nipples were responding to the combination of cool air and my rising arousal.

I shuffled up slightly against the pillows and pushed one of my tits up to my face so I could suck it, and I rolled my tongue round and round my nipple until I could feel my juice centre spring to life. Ah, the wonders of female sexual responses.

Let my tit go, and it subsided into a billowy mound of flesh, like one of the rolling hills I can see from my bedroom window. I admired the contours of my body, which is full, fleshy and undulating. My large breasts remain quite prominent, even when I'm lying down, and my stomach has a slight swell to it - not fat, just... feminine - and my thighs are full and fubsy, spreading noticeably when they're relaxed, like now.

I bent my knees and opened my legs wide, imagining Lori's blonde head down there, then I slipped a hand (with pretty pink nails this morning) down through my little thatch of curly pubes and into my groove.

I used two fingers of one hand to part my inner lips, which were gooey with my sexual residues, then slid two fingers of the other into my hole, right up to the third knuckles.

Mmm it was wonderfully hot and syrupy in there, and I took a moment to enjoy the feeling; moving my fingers just slightly, to savour the wonderfully slippery oiliness of my burgeoning cunt cream.

Now, I used the fingers of my other hand to rotate my clit, pulling the hood back with the first finger, and rubbing its shiny little dome in a circular motion with the second. Then I started, slowly at first, pumping the other two fingers in and out of my hole, which was now starting to really dribble with creamy juice.

This is my favourite masturbation technique; one hand fucking my hole, fingers curling to tease my spot, and the other mercilessly squirling my clit. I don't need any toys. No giant objects or vibrations are required. Just my two hands, and the skills I've learned from thousands of wonderful wanks. The only thing that could make it better would be a soft, sensitive mouth sucking my nipples at the same time.

I drew myself up the ramp of stimulation inexorably. Building up speed, driving myself on toward the peak, pelvis jerking, bum cheeks clenching, tits jiggling, feeling the orgasmic express accelerating, and I threw my head back against the headboard, mouth wide open in a rictus of impending bliss...

And then the rush. The incomparable exhilaration of orgasm. Sizzling through my body, making my toes curl, and making gooseflesh of my skin... And then the glide back to Earth. A delightful feeling of release and otherworldly pleasure and relaxation. My body becoming limp and sated.

God, I love a good wank.

I lay, soaking up the bliss for a while, then I got up and showered, and went down, still naked, to the kitchen to make coffee.

I love walking around the house naked. There's something liberating - and libertine - about it, and I sat at the kitchen table and started looking at my phone.

Hello... someone had replied to one of my posts. Someone with the username "soft_cow." She was quite gushy in her comment, saying 'Oh girl, you are a dish delish. Are you really on the menu?"

I chuckled to myself and replied with 'Yes, Angie a la carte. Send me a DM.'

Within a couple of hours, we exchanged WhatsApp messages. She was called Brie, which made me chuckle anew at her username, and I found out she was a bit further away than Lori, so I reckoned I'd need to arrange an overnight stay, and I wasn't sure how to play that.

Sleeping with someone - I mean actually SLEEPING with them - has a slightly different vibe than just having sex and then leaving, as I had done with Lori, and it raised questions.

I'd instigated this little divertissement as a way of simply getting some pussy action, and I now realised I hadn't really set myself any ground rules for the kind of encounters I was seeking. I decided I needed some.

First of all, I was to keep romance at bay. That wasn't what I was after. Secondly, I was only offering sex on my terms. I wasn't going to do absolutely anything they wanted, so no anal, no strap-ons, and no kinks like watersports. But what about overnights? I reasoned that I might travel a bit in this pursuit, so overnights would definitely be a part of it, but should I SLEEP with people, or not? I decided to test the water with Brie.

We had each other's numbers now, so I gave her a call. 'Hi Brie, Angie here. I'm just thinking, you're a few hours from me, so if I come, I'll have to stay over. Would you have a problem with that?'

'Oh, you'll definitely come,' she quipped with a snigger, '... but no, no problem at all. I'm not going to make you sofa surf.' I could almost see her eyes rolling. She was so nonchalant about it that I wondered why I'd made it an issue.

'OK good. D'you wanna do this then?'

Oh, do I... I've been a lonely lezzy spinster FOR EVER. I need some sugar, Angie.'

Well, I can help with that, but it will have to be at the weekend. I work during the week.'

'Right... this Saturday then?

'It's a date.'

We ended the call and I realised I'd forgotten to ask her for a photo. I was at a disadvantage; She'd seen plenty of pics of me, and she'd described herself (24 years old, small/petite, 5'3", short dark hair, tattoos) but I hadn't actually seen her. I texted her to ask for a pic, and while I was waiting, I wondered...

I hadn't applied any kind of filter to these contacts. I'd simply decided I'd embrace the full variety of womanhood, but I did wonder what I'd do if someone I found really unattractive contacted me. Would it make me hesitate, change my mind?

PING! The pic arrived... If I said I was shocked, that would be an exaggeration, but I was definitely surprised. When she said tattoos, she wasn't kidding. She was FESTOONED with tattoos, on every part of her body - every part I could see, anyway, it wasn't a nude photo. She had a ring in her nose, multiple rings in her ears, short, boyish dark hair, and very dark, almost gothic, makeup. In some ways I suppose she was a lesbian stereotype. None of these things were attractive to me; short hair, multiple piercings, tattoos... They weren't things I'd ever considered doing to myself, nor ever would, but did they put me off? Not in the slightest.

Saturday morning saw me throwing an overnight bag in the back of my car and heading north with her address in the sat-nav, and that lovely thrum of sexual anticipation in my loins.

Traffic was light for once, and 5 hours later, I was looking for parking near her house. There were too many cars for the tight little streets, but I found a a spot just a couple of hundred metres away and set off to walk to her front door.

I was anticipating a different kind of encounter this time, so I didn't glam myself up. I was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a white round neck top with a half-buttoned front. My shoes were stylish, but just had a low wedge heel.

It was a casual kind of look. Not showy or anything, but I passed a couple of lads walking the other way and they were definitely ogling my tits. Dream on boys.

I rang Brie's doorbell, and she appeared, looking just as she did on the photo, with denim shorts, a black vest top, and a pair of black ballet flats. She beamed when she saw me, and kissed me on both cheeks, then ushered me inside. I noticed she was also ogling my tits, and unlike the boys, SHE was going to get her hands, (and everything else) on them.

Rather than going straight for the sex, she suggested we go for 'a beer and a bite' at her local pub, which was just a couple of minutes' walk away. 'We can have a chat, get to know each other a bit, and just... loosen.'

I liked the suggestion. It was a sunny day. Why not take the opportunity to chill out for a while and build up our anticipation?

The pub was great. It had a canal-side beer garden, and we sat out there and enjoyed a beer and a burger, which was excellent. Brie seemed to know a few people; the barmaid greeted her by name, and there were a few waves and nods from others. She didn't introduce me to anyone, but I could tell she was happy to have me with her. I wondered who she normally drank with.

We chatted. She'd been single for over a year, and had struggled to meet anyone, which was a shame, really. She was quite pretty, despite all the tats and piercings, and she was bright, smiley, and quite funny. The extreme image couldn't help with meeting people, and she was aware of that.

'It's interesting, what you're doing, Angie. Putting yourself out there, just for fun. Not looking for a relationship, just sex. It certainly hooked me.'

I smiled. 'I'm surprised there's been so much interest, actually.'

'Well, you're very, er, presentable. I'd have a crack at it myself, but my look would probably be off-putting to a lot of people.'

'Worth a try though. Have a go. Your look didn't put me off, did it?'

She laughed. 'No, s'pose not. So how many, er, liaisons have you had... do you even keep count?'

It was my turn to laugh. 'Two. Well, one so far. You're the second.'

'Really?? So it's brand new then.'

'Yep. I'm just feeling my way in.. ' I smirked, rudely.

'And how does it feel?'

'It's good. I just like sex, and I can do the no-commitment thing, very easily.'

She looked at me a little queerly. 'Am I really going to be eating your pussy within the hour?'

I answered breezily - 'Yeah, if you want.'

She cackled. 'If I WANT? Oh, baby, if you only knew how much I want... Do you do role-play?' she suddenly asked.

'Yeees,' I said cautiously, 'what have you got in mind?'

'Well, I 'm very sub. I like being dominated. Not sado-masochism or anything like that. No pain, no whips and chains, but I just like to be pussy-whipped... a little. I've always wanted it, but I've never found anyone who would really do it for me. Can you play domme, Angie?'

I pulled a thoughtful face. 'Well, it's not something I've ever done...' she looked disappointed, '... but I'm sure I can. You might just need to help a little by telling me what you want.'

She visibly brightened. 'Oh that's no problem. I like to do that, anyway. Come on.'

She grabbed me by the hand and led me through the pub, and out into the street. She was very excited as we walked back to her house. 'Oh this is gonna be so cool... and hot at the same time.' She chuckled, gleefully.

As soon as we got into the house, she started stripping. She didn't make any move towards the bedroom. It was all obviously going to happen right here, so I followed suit. She was naked in a flash, apart from her multifarious tattoos, and I noticed she had a ring in one nipple, but no metalwork that I could see in her pussy lips (thank goodness). I've heard that some women have a ring in their clitoris. Jeeeez. I mean... HOW? I mean... WHY??.

'Oh my God, Angie, you're so hot,' she fawned. 'I love your big boobs, they're fantastic. I've never been with anyone with tits like yours.'

'Thank you,' I said as I unhooked my bra and freed them from their confinement.

She gazed at me doe-eyed, and I thought I'd better get into character. She wanted domme, so...

'Get on your knees,' I said, pointing to the carpet. 'Now, take off my knickers - with your TEETH'

She took hold of the little bow in the middle of the waistband and started tugging it down, revealing my pubes, and I surreptitiously helped by pushing the back down over my ample bum with my thumbs. I kept my legs fairly close together, but not so close that the gusset would get trapped between my thighs.

When they were a couple of inches below my pussy lips, I said, 'Stop. Now bite the gusset. I want you to taste me.' She obeyed immediately, and then continued pulling them down, with the damp gusset clamped in her teeth. She gave a kind of cat-growl of lust.

When she was almost at my ankles, I stepped out of them one foot at a time, then spread my legs apart. She still had the gusset between her teeth and I beckoned her to her feet with a curling finger. She stood up, face to face with me, wet knickers still hanging out of her mouth, and I proceeded to poke all the material between her lips, with a finger, stuffing her mouth with my moist panties. She opened her mouth for it eagerly. She wanted this.

When the knickers were completely in, I lifted her chin to close her mouth, then brought my lips to hers and just smeared them together, gently, then ran my tongue across them. I swear I could taste myself. I could certainly smell myself. We were enveloped in the aroma of hot wanting pussies - hers as well as mine.

'I started kissing her salaciously, and as she opened her mouth in response, I hooked the knickers with my tongue then grabbed them with my teeth and pulled them out. I wiped them across her face, then dropped them on the floor. Her face was a picture of rapture, her eyes half-closed in a kind of sexual sopor.

Taking her by the shoulders, I pushed her back and flung her down onto the sofa, then climbed astride her and she groaned. 'Oh yes Angie, queen me. Fuck my face. Come on, Do it. I want your cunt.'

I straddled her eager mouth and squished my slippery wet lips down on her, then thrust forward, sliding them up over her nose to her forehead and back down, then again, and again, coating her whole face with my sapid girl goo.

It seemed suitably domme, and she was loving it. Her fingers were fucking her pussy in a frenzy, and in between thrusts, she was talking in little desperate sound bites; 'Oh fuck - yes - fuck me - cover me - harder - harder - HARDER!'

I went faster and harder, humping her head brutally, like it was an inanimate object, and she just lapped it up. Literally.

Her vocal sounds became gurgly and unintelligible, but they were definitely sounds of pleasure, and her hand became a blur, fingers pumping in and out of her hole like pistons, fucking herself desperately to the orgasm she craved.

She came with a hoarse, muffled screech, and her back arched as her body went into a paroxysm of pleasure. I was nearly there myself, and a few final jerky thrusts of my hips brought me to blissful release. I slowed to smooth, languid pelvic thrusts, rolling my hips and just savouring the intoxicating wake of the orgasm.

Suddenly, she started choking and coughing, and I rolled off her to kneel on the carpet. She sat up, and held her hand up as she coughed again and cleared her throat. 'I'm OK, I'm OK... she swallowed. 'Oh my God Angie. That was fucking awesome. No-one has ever fucked me like that. Wow.' She shook her head violently. 'Jeez, you're so wet. I think you squirted in my mouth. I've never had that before... Ooohh, fucking delish.'

Her sense of wonder was palpable, and I got the impression that she'd led a fairly sheltered life, sexually, up to now. Well, she certainly intended to make up for that, now that she had me at her whim.

'Will you do something else for me?'

'Of course, we're a long way from finished, I hope. Name it.'

'Will you eat me on the dining table?'

'On the dining table?' I asked, perplexed.

'Yeh, I read it in an erotic story. Two girls fucking on the dining table. I just thought it was so friggin hot.'

'I pointed sternly. 'Get on the table,' and she jumped up gleefully. She climbed onto the table and lay down, and I dragged her by the ankles so her pussy was close to the edge, then sat on a chair and pulled it up between her legs. 'Dinner is served,' I said, then bent my head to dine. She giggled with excitement.

Her pussy had a neat little triangle of almost black pubes, but the lower part of her outer lips were bare and smooth, and I parted them with my fingers, revealing her pink petals and her little white stream, dribbling down her bum cheek onto the table, and making an irresistible puddle. She was obviously incredibly aroused.

I lapped up some of her ambrosia, then spread her lips even wider and gorged...

It was a three-course meal. The first two were tasty and toothsome. I loved her tastes, and her adorable little whimpers, building up to hoarse wails as her orgasms rose to their peak, and she just lay there passively as I revelled in her pleasure and responses.

For dessert, my own little dish needed attention, and I got up on the table, repositioned her pliant little body, and straddled her head, then we went for number 69 on the menu.

I spread my legs wider and wider until my hairy pussy pressed her head firmly against the table, then we enjoyed a delicious build up to another orgasmic treat. Brie for dessert. Mmmm.

We returned to the sofa and had a little break, and some drinks. She was breathlessly excited. 'Oh Angie, thank you. That was the best sex EVER. It's a very long time since I've come four times in one session.'

I smiled. 'No need to thank me, I got something out of it too, you know.'

'Yea, course, but without you I'd never have experienced sex like that.'

'I don't see why not. You just need to meet the right, sexually adventurous girl.'

'Easily said,' she reflected, gloomily.

'Hey, don't get all morose. I'm still here, and there's much more we can still do. You must have other little fantasies...'

'Mm, I wanna suck those luscious tits.'

I turned to face her, and lifted one of my heavy boobs up in my hand, kneading it slightly with my thumb, then I put my other hand on her head and guided her lips to my nipple. She sucked on it lustily with her eyes closed, savouring the sensuous feel of my warm flesh and rolling it round and round with her tongue.

I gradually imposed myself on her more and more, pushing her back until she was trapped between my tits and the corner of the sofa, and she moaned with pleasure as I massaged my boobs against her, almost smothering her.

She loved it, and she wasn't the only one; My nipples are quite sensitive, and every lusty sweep of her tongue, sent a pulse of pleasure straight to my clit. My thighs squished together, slick with the hot juice she was making, and the urge to queen her again was rising. Surely, she'd enjoy another face-fuck?

I bent my head down and whispered in her ear, 'Want me to fuck your face again?'

She stopped sucking my tit and looked up at me impishly. 'Let's go up to bed.'

It was not even 8pm, but we went upstairs to spend the next 14 hours in her bed, and it was 14 hours of pure physical indulgence. Brie was almost insatiable - making up for lost time and deprivation, obviously - and it was a night of short periods of slumber, punctuated by sex. Wonderful, joyful, hedonistic sex.

We only expired as dawn was breaking, and didn't wake until after 10, by which time we were ravenous.

During a monster breakfast, she said, 'I wish I could tell you how awesome you are, Angie, but I don't have the words. Will you come back again?

'Yeah of course. It's not a one-time-only service, I grinned.

She looked at me ruefully over her coffee cup. 'I'd better leave it a little while though... I could easily get addicted to you.'

On the drive home, I reflected. Brie had really surprised me. She was totally not my type physically, and I just don't get all those tats and piercings, but I liked her. She was very good company, and the sex was spectacular. I really was looking forward to the next time she contacted me.

Donna

A couple of weeks went by, with no new comments on my postings, so I updated them with another tempting little tag line; 'Sensual, sexual, succulent. Go on... you know you want to.'

There were no replies immediately, but after a few days I got a direct message from one of the sites:

"Hi, I saw your posting and I thought it was worth contacting you. I'm an older woman (41) not in bad nick for my age, not fat, not thin, not bad looking, but a little lonely. I lost my partner to cancer 18 months ago and I've been alone ever since. I don't feel I have the oomph for a new relationship just yet, but I really miss the intimacy. I don't really care if you don't want to have sex with me, I'm not that bothered about the sex. I just want a bit of intimate time with someone. Maybe a weekend? Thanks for reading. Donna"

This put me into deep thought mode, because this wasn't what I'd had in mind when I began this little adventure. I'd envisaged casual, carefree sex, full of lust and libertine gratification, with no emotional attachment. This promised to be something a bit different.

If course, I immediately felt sympathy for her, and my emotional core made me want to say yes, and to go and comfort her. Her age didn't worry me, but I thought there was a risk involved. She said she didn't have the "oomph" for a relationship, but I thought, after couple of days of intimacy, whether sexual or not, the "oomph" might magically appear.

If I'd had other contacts or offers on the go, I might well have said no, but I didn't, so I thought OK, let's give it a whirl. I'm glad I did.

I replied:

'Hi Donna, sorry to hear of your loss. I'd be happy to come and keep you company. How about next weekend, Friday night to Monday morning?'

She lived way out near the western extremity of the country. A pain to get to really, so when she replied in the affirmative, I started looking into trains instead of driving. I searched the address she'd given me, and found it was quite near the terminal station on the Great Western railway. So I arranged for her to collect me at the station the following Friday evening.

I took the Friday afternoon and the whole of Monday off work - quite a big thing really, for someone I didn't know. For all I knew, there may not even be sex!

We exchanged a few more texts and she sent me a couple of photos, which showed she was carrying a little bit of weight, but also that she was still attractive for a woman well past the first flush of youth. She just needed to smile a little more. Maybe I could help with that.

The following Friday, I was on the train westwards, thinking...

This felt a little odd. The first two encounters I'd had were exactly what I'd been aiming for. A coming together just for sex, with nothing else sought or expected, but Donna... she wanted a surrogate partner for the weekend. Someone to be close to, just for a little while, and it wasn't going to be easy to do that while still remaining detached. Maybe it was a mistake to even try?

Hers was a cry for help though, and I'd have to be a heartless bitch to ignore a cry for help like that. I wondered how many other lonely people there were, just suffering in silence. Probably thousands and thousands. Donna had at least reached out. I just had to take her hand.

Yes, I realised that there could be complications, emotional upheaval, even a resurgence of her grief, but I think she was doing the right thing to expose herself to all that. It was the only way forward. I hoped this weekend I would be able to help her on her road back to life after losing someone so dear to her. I couldn't imagine what that felt like.

Three changes later, the train pulled into the station and I stepped out onto the platform on a balmy west-country evening.

I recognised her immediately, looking pretty in a colourful summer dress, cut close and shapely around the bust, then flaring loosely to a hem just below the knee. Gotta love a summer dress, and she suited it. It looked good on her.

She was a little shorter than me, and she had a hint of chubbiness about her, but she was quite shapely, and her tits looked fabulous in that dress. Stop it Angie.

She had a pretty face, and undyed greying hair, which looked natural and attractive, and I guess the best compliment I could pay her would be that, unlike most women her age, she didn't look like she could be my mum. She still had sex-appeal.

She approached me with a smile - and I was right, she did look better smiling - but there was an unmistakeable sadness in her eyes. A sadness that I hoped I could allay this weekend, even if only slightly.

We embraced, then made the usual small-talk about the journey as we walked to her car, which was a very upmarket convertible.

'Nice car,' I said.

'Thanks. I only bought it recently. I felt like treating myself.'

'And why not, it's great. I love the tan leather.'

'Yeah, me too,' she smiled. 'Are you hungry? I thought I'd take you to my favourite hostelry for a meal. If you want?

'Oo, sounds lovely. Drive on.'

We drove through scented lanes with the roof down, to the hostelry, which was an old stone building standing alone on a cliff top. A stunning location.

'Wow,' I said, 'what a place.'

'Good isn't it?' she grinned. 'And the food is sublime.'

I walked behind her to the door, and I admired her shape in that summer dress, as the breeze moulded it to her contours. 'I love that dress, Donna. It looks great on you. You've a great figure.'

'Thank you,' she said with a slightly coy smile.

We ate outside, overlooking the roaring sea, and Donna was right; the food was delicious.

We talked about our pasts, particularly our past partners and, of course, her lost partner, Wenna. Whenever she spoke about her tears welled in her eyes. After 18 months, she was clearly still very raw. I knew I had to treat her gently.

Apparently, Wenna had been a successful artist, producing paintings that sold for thousands, worldwide and Donna had worked full time, managing the marketing, sales, and all the logistics of 'the business.' I realised that even the shipping of fine art worth a few grand is a delicate process, not to be undertaken lightly.

It turned chilly after 8pm and she didn't have anything warm to put on so we departed to her house, this time with the roof of the car firmly up.

As we turned into her drive, I noticed the "For Sale" board, and I realised just how successful an artist Wenna must have been. The house was a huge detached place, with large gardens, and an annex/extension off to one side, which I later found out was Wenna's studio.

I suddenly got a feel for how lonely it must have been for Donna over the last 18 months, rattling around this huge place, with Wenna gone but her memory filling every space. I could see why she had put it on the market.

'What a fantastic house, Donna.' I said.

'Yes... We were happy here, but that part of my life is over. I have spent a year and a half grieving. Now, I have to come back to life and move on.'

She was right of course, but I felt her sadness. I admired her resolve, but I couldn't help wondering. To where?

It wasn't late, and Donna suggested watching a film. She used her Netflix subscription and said 'Do you have any favourites? I did, but I let her choose and we settled on the sofa with wine, and just chilled.

The air of sadness precluded any sexual seduction, I felt, so I didn't make any moves towards that. I just sat next to her and we watched the film.

After a little while, she moved closer to me and lifted my arm over her head to put it around her. 'Would you mind just holding me?' she said. Of course I didn't mind.

We spent a few minutes like that, then she said, 'It makes a huge difference just having you here, Angie. I've really missed this... this closeness. Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' We snuggled closer.

The film was almost over, and I was starting to feel a little drowsy, when I heard her sniffle. I wondered if the film held some special poignancy for her, but I didn't ask. I just held her and let her weep.

The film finished, and there was nothing but the menu on the screen, but I didn't try to put anything else on. I just waited until she spoke, and she said, 'Will you sleep with me, Angie? I don't mean sex, just sleep with me?'

'Of course.'

I realised that all this - bringing me here, taking me for a meal, watching the film, snuggling up to me, and now sleeping with me - was part of her "coming back to life." She was re-engaging with intimacy - all those lovely things about having a partner - without having to initiate an actual relationship. I was providing an unusual opportunity in that respect, and I was happy I was able to do that for her.

Despite the warm weather, we didn't sleep naked as I normally would. She put on a night dress, and, I wore a tee shirt and a pair of modest knickers. Modesty was the order of the day, but I did get some very nice glimpses of her naked body as we prepared for bed and, as she'd said, she was "not in bad nick." I took a while to go to sleep.

Next morning she was much brighter. We'd spent the night lying close, bodies touching, like lovers might, and I found that almost unbearably sensual, even though we were both, sort of, clothed. I was definitely sexually attracted to her. It was not a good night's sleep.

She dressed in shorts and a vest, similar to me, and we set off on a little sightseeing tour she had planned. I missed the summer dress, but she looked good anyway. I guess we both did, judging by the attention we got when we were out and about. We are both pretty busty, and busty women in vest tops always have that effect. I enjoy it, but that's because I'm a terrible show-off. I was wearing a bra on this occasion, but sometimes I don't. I'm bad like that.

We drove through tiny lanes, and along wonderful coastal roads, roof down and hair blowing in the wind, like Thelma and Louise (which wasn't the film we watched, by the way) and we visited a castle, an amazing open-air theatre and, at my request, Land's End, because I hadn't been there. Don't go - It's horrible.

At lunchtime, we sat outside another quaint old pub and chatted. I asked her about her friends and she said, 'No, I left my friends behind when I moved out here to be with Wenna, and she was very much a loner, so she didn't have many. I guess we were a pretty self-sufficient unit, the two of us. We got everything we needed from each other.' She thought for a minute, then said, 'When the house sells, I may move back to the east coast and try to reconnect with some of my old friends.'

'I think that's a good idea,' I said, and I took her hand. 'I'm so sorry about Wenna, but you're moving in the right direction now. She'll always be there in your thoughts, but time's a great healer. The pain will fade.'

She smiled at me. 'Thanks Angie. I think I was very lucky to find you online. There's more to you than meets the eye, and you are quite an eyeful,' she chuckled. It was the first (sort of) compliment she'd paid me, and the first time I'd heard her (sort of) laugh. It was progress.

We returned to her house in the evening, where she cooked a fantastic meal, and she revealed that, before she met Wenna, she'd worked as a cook, commis chef, then chef in a very upmarket London restaurant, a profession she said she may yet return to.

We gravitated to the sofa, like the previous evening, to watch TV, but I was suffering a little. I'd been watching her all day, and my attraction had been growing. She might not have been bothered about sex, but I was. I just didn't think I could or should make a move on her.

The final straw was when she said, 'Do you mind if I take my bra off? Horrible uncomfortable thing.'

'Er... NO.'

'You can join me if you like.'

Was this a first little wink of seduction from her? Oh God, I hoped so.

We both removed them without taking our vests off, but of course there was quite a lot of boob action going on under those stretch tops. With the bra gone, I couldn't help noticing how prominent her nipple bumps were. I mean, mine were visible, but not half as startling as hers. My mouth watered as I imagined what they looked like naked.

'That's better,' she said. 'Now we can really relax.

My heartbeat rose as I detected a definite increase in the sexual temperature. Was this a subtle come-on from her? I didn't want to misread her signals and create anything awkward between us, but I had an ache in my loins that wouldn't go away. I had to do SOMETHING.

'Are you cold, Donna?' I asked, referring obliquely to her nipples.

She looked sideways at me and our eyes locked. 'No,' she said, keeping very steady eye contact, and I decided that was as clear a sign as any.

'Your nipples are being very rude,' I said.

'They are, aren't they?' she said, looking down at them and pushing her chest out. They looked utterly breathtaking. All my sexual responses were in overdrive.

I waited until she turned her head back towards me, then I brought my face close to hers. I didn't kiss her. I stopped just short, and gazed into her eyes, our lips just a couple of inches apart. She knew what I wanted, but did she want it too? My pause was an unspoken question. A handful of seconds felt like a minute, then she said 'Kiss me.'

The kiss was sublime. She melted into me as I kissed her, and it was a tender kiss, rather than a lusty one. We didn't use tongues (that would come later) it was all just soft lips to soft lips. A feeling of sweet surrender. A surrender to desire that she had been perhaps resisting.

Her hand came up, hesitantly, to cup one of my breasts, and she gave a tiny little moan. I rolled towards her, straddling her as she lay back against the sofa's backrest, and I held her face in my hands as we continued our smoochy kiss. Both her hands were on my breasts now and I broke the kiss just long enough to whip my vest top off, letting my boobs bounce free, then I brought my lips to hers again.

She started to remove her vest, but she seemed to be struggling, so I sat back on her legs until she could pull it over her head, then we sat there and looked at each other. Her boobs were wonderful. Of course they had a bit of sag, but they had retained their fullness and their round, plump shape, and her nipples were stunning. They were erect and amazingly long. Twice the length of mine, and mine aren't exactly shy.

She ran her hands up my sides and smiled at me. 'Wow, you have gorgeous boobs, Angie.'

'Look who's talking,' I replied, 'yours are to die for.' They were, too. Even reclining on the sofa they didn't disappear to flopsville, and those nipples... Oohh.

'But these are beautiful,' she said, lifting them in her hands.

I decided to move us on from this mutual boob admiration society and I leaned forward suggestively until she went goggle-eyed to focus on them. Her lips parted and her eyes closed as she lifted her head to take one of my nipples into her mouth, and she gave a shuddery sigh as she suckled on it.

I placed a hand on her head as if to hold her there, though there was no need - she wasn't going anywhere - and pushed forward a little more, squashing my soft tit flesh against her face. She gave a muffled groan (of pleasure, obviously) and hungrily sucked and tongued my nipple.

I wondered, briefly, whether Wenna had also had big breasts, but it wasn't a question I felt I could ask, even later.

Donna was clearly enjoying mine anyway, so I didn't try to move onto anything more for now, I just pulled back momentarily and said 'This one gets jealous,' as I fed her the other one. Then I just continued to enjoy the electrifying pleasure of her fervent attentions.

My pussy was getting decidedly hot and bothered though so, eventually, I stood up and started undoing my shorts. 'Oh God, I love this Angie... you're so hot...'

'Take your shorts off, Donna, I said, and she started rapidly undoing them. I dropped mine, along with my knickers, then knelt at her feet and helped tug hers out from under her bum and down her legs.

The aroma of hot, wanting woman hit my nostrils like a drug - a drug I'm addicted to - but I resisted the urge to go straight for a taste of honey because those nipples were on my mind. There they were, standing proud, pointing to the ceiling like rude little erections.

I leaned over her and pushed her boobs together, making them even ruder, then started sucking on them, alternating left then right and back again. They were extraordinary. I'd never encountered nipples quite like them. Long, resilient, and almost rubber-like, it was an amazing feeling, having them in my mouth, and I revelled in squirling them round and round with my tongue, until her breath was coming in little gasps.

I lifted my head for a moment. 'Are they sensitive?' I asked.

'Oh, God, yes. Don't stop...'

I returned to my oral adoration and at the same time I brought my hand up to caress her pussy lips. She was amazingly wet and slippery, and I gently smeared her creamy juice all over her labia - inner and outer - as well as through her luxuriant pubes. There was so much of it that I spread it over the entirety of her vulva, her mons, and the tops of her inner thighs, while continuing to coat her breasts with my saliva. It was getting gloriously messy.

Eventually, I couldn't resist the urge any longer, and I tore myself away from her sublime breasts and started kissing my way down over the womanly swell of her belly towards the hot, steamy world I'd made between her legs.

Her breathing was more and more uneven, more and more often punctuated by little gasps and whimpers. She was already on the cusp, and my eager yearning tongue was going to take her over the edge.

I trailed my lips down over her oily wet pubes, and used my thumbs to spread her hairy, fubsy lips apart, revealing the engorged pink flesh within. I managed to resist for just a moment longer to gaze at her.

This was no pretty girl's pussy. This was a rude, fleshy woman's pussy. Creamy droplets of juice clung to her curly hairs, her inner lips were long and meaty, and her clit - hard, shiny and almost bluish - was peeping boldly from its hood. Beautifully lewd.

I pursed my lips and kissed her clit, making her jump, and it twitched in response. Then I drew my tongue from her juicy well of desire, up between her lips to the apex, and flicked the tip of it against that hot little button.

'Ohhhhhhh, GOD!' She erupted, releasing a tide of pent up sexual tension. 'Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh. Her orgasm went on for a long time, and I pressed my face into her, rubbing my nose against her clit and holding my tongue flat against her entrance, bathing it in her endlessly dribbling nectar as she just came and came and came.

I just stayed there throughout, enjoying the indescribable feeling of being immersed in her climax, wallowing in her coming pussy.

Finally, she moved slightly, and gasped, 'Ohh, Angie. Ohh, Angie,' and I stayed where I was, feeling her clit still twitching in her aftermath and swallowing her last dribbles.

Much as I might want to, I couldn't stay engrossed in pussy indefinitely, and I moved up to kiss her and share the bounty she'd just bestowed on me, and this time there were definitely tongues involved. Our heads rolled together, smearing our faces with her orgasmic residue, and our tongues chased each other, slurping up that delicious mixture of pussy juice and saliva.

I deliberately didn't seek a final gratification for myself. I hoped she would want me enough to instigate the reciprocation, and if not, I'd just get myself off in in the shower or something.

Of course that wouldn't happen. As soon as her equilibrium was restored, she took my hand and said, 'Come to bed.' It was my turn to be adored.

I lay on her bed and she lay on top of me, those long nipples squashing into my breasts, and she kissed me, then said. 'Oh I'm so glad we got there, Angie. I've had the horn for you ever since you sent me that first picture.'

'Really? I said, wide-eyed.

'Yes, but I had a barrier to overcome. I knew I needed to come back to life, but it felt like sex with another would be the final wave bye bye to my Wenna, you know?' I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. 'Hey, stop that,' she said, wiping them away with her thumbs. 'My Wenna would want this for me. I know she would. She wouldn't want me to become a sad old spinster.'

She smiled and kissed me. 'Wenna and I... we were both very sexual people. Sexual intimacy was a daily part of our lives, and I still need it. Still need... this. To feel your body underneath me like this. To share sensuality as only two women can. Thank you.' She kissed me again.

I had a strange but not unpleasant feeling. This was an extraordinarily poignant yet sensual situation. A sensation I'd never experienced before. I felt such sympathy - and empathy - and having her tell me all this while lying warm and sexy on top of me was somehow achingly emotional and erotic. My body was crying out for her.

Luckily, she also had empathy. 'You must be screaming for an orgasm by now,' she said, and I just nodded. Oh my God, was I. 'You just leave it to Donna,' she smirked, and she started moving down...

She made love to me for an hour or more, using all her skill and experience to take me up to a plateau of arousal, and hold me there, through multiple orgasms. Now that she'd overcome the barrier, she gave free-rein to her libido and sexuality, and I got a glimpse of what a lucky woman Wenna must have been.

I was taken to heaven, and to a place of deep, deep satisfaction, but before we slept, I wanted to give her another orgasm, and I pulled her up to queen me. The final act of this wonderful sexual Shangri-la, and one more magical time in wet pussy paradise.

Finally we expired, and slept intertwined, naked, and even closer than the previous evening. I remember waking briefly at one point and feeling her soft, warm presence, then I drifted back into sleep.

In the morning, Donna was the brightest I'd ever seen her. Full of dazzling smiles and easy laughter. I loved the feeling that I'd done this. Me.

After breakfast, she showed me Wenna's studìo, with some finished paintings that would be sold, and a couple of unfinished ones that wouldn't.

Most of the paintings were landscapes and seascapes, but she also showed me two private ones, which Wenna had done 'just for her own pleasure.' One depicted a naked woman lying on a bed and obviously masturbating, and it was also obvious who the subject was. There was no mistaking those nipples.

The second, was of a lesbian couple making love. I appreciated the artistry of how she'd captured the contours of the bodies, and the subtle ridges of muscles in tension, and I noticed that, yes, Wenna did have big boobs.

'Beautiful.' I said.

'Wenna didn't usually paint people, but she was good at it, wasn't she?' she said, touching the painting wistfully.

'Yes, she was.'

'She always said sex was a beautiful thing, even a woman masturbating. "A subject fit for art," she said. She would probably have done more erotic paintings but the market for them is tiny.'

'I'm glad she left you these two.'

'Oh, there are others. Not a lot, but some. I treasure them more than her commercial works, even though the commercial stuff bought us the house etc.

She seemed more comfortable talking about Wenna now. She was still a little sad and sentimental, but tears no longer appeared in her eyes. I felt she was turning a corner.

We went to bed that afternoon, and again that evening, and it was different. The slight hesitation had gone. The reluctance and doubt had gone. She was able to enjoy the sex just for its own sake, just for the corporeal, carnal pleasure of it, and I was of course able to reciprocate.

I had to admit to myself that, despite the age difference (she was just about old enough to be my mum) I found her incredibly compelling, sexually and emotionally. I was, helplessly, moved by her.

In the morning, over breakfast, with my train less than an hour away, she took my hand on the table and squeezed it. 'Angie, you don't know how many steps you've moved me forward. Before I saw your post, I had no idea how I could move on, but now I can see life again.' She picked my hand up and kissed it.

'I'm so happy I've helped, Donna. Let's not lose touch, eh?' She looked at me and shook her head. I think we were both fighting back tears, for some reason.

We parted on the platform, with a powerful, heartfelt kiss and a tight squeeze, and I boarded the train. A final wave, and I was borne off eastwards.

As the train took me home, I sat musing. Against all my expectations, I knew something profound had happened that weekend. With Lori and Brie it had been exactly as I'd expected; fun, but superficial, and I had left it open as to whether they'd contact me again, but with Donna it was different. I was definitely going to keep in touch with Donna.

***