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Poe was not a typical young man. It wasn’t that he was outlandish in any obvious way. In fact, with his short dark hair and lean physique, he looked both reasonably attractive and intelligent. Attending classes at the local downtown college, his only vice, on casual observation, was a tendency towards dark clothing and social isolation.

When he wasn’t taking his college lectures, he worked part time for a local book store, and then spent his evenings writing. Not only his school papers, which he tried to take care of during the day, but fiction and poetry as well.

The coffee house was where Poe did most his writing, or at least the initial rough versions. Bringing a hard bound sketch book, he would sit with a bowl sized cup of brew and scribble down ideas and short poems. There was something in this activity that felt artistically right to him. Perhaps it was some unstated kinship with the beat generation of the past. He definitely felt out of step with the rest of the modern world. Here, with the old wooden tables and the sounds of bebop jazz, he felt much more comfortable, like it was his own personal space.

On this particular evening, this fateful night, he happened to spot a young woman sitting on her own. In many respects, she struck him as a mirror image of himself. Like he, she was clad in black, with short glossy dark hair and thin glasses. Viewing her from the side, his eyes roamed from her elegant profile, down her slender torso to her black nylon sheathed legs.

Under other circumstances, or at least with a greater dose of courage, he might have approached her table and introduced himself. Instead, he remained as he was, watching her from the corner of his eye. He saw her raise the cup to her soft, red lips. He observed the pale skin of her bare arms, and the well defined shape of her pointed breasts beneath her top. Her legs were crossed, her skirt draped in a single fold high on her thighs. Her fingernails were long and painted the same bright red as her lips.

This unnamed siren in black gradually captivated all his attention. His pen tapped an absent rhythm against his sketchbook as his imagination turned from contemplation of blank verse to real flesh. It had been some time since he’d lain in bed with a girl. The carnal craving for that contact lay like a heavy stone deep in his gut. It was her. She’d inflamed his dormant senses.

He could imagine doing anything and everything with her. He would kneel at her feet, removing those heels and running his hands along the length of her calves and past her knees. His penis engorged within the confines of his briefs as his mind turned to thoughts of her own organ of progeneration. Sliding off those black hose and underwear, he would examine every inch of her dark haired cunt. He could easily picture the look on her face as he exposed the bright pink bud of her clitoris and brushed it hard with this tongue.

As he created the fantasy of this woman’s arousal, his own physical excitement grew to rampant proportions in the real world. His erection strained hard against the zip of his pants. Unconsciously, Poe dropped the edge of his thick sketchbook onto his lap, pressing down to increase the erotic pressure against his organ.

Unknown and unseen by the object of his ardor, the woman continued to sit quietly at her table, sipping her herbal tea. In Poe’s mind, she was already writhing on the floor, her pale body naked and sweating from the ordeal of his oral pleasuring. At the last, he would crawl over her, now naked as well, and consummate the act by plunging his prick into her loose and soaking wet cunt. Those long arms would curl around his back, her legs rising in response to the force of their desperate intercourse.

In the middle of this almost literal out-of-body experience, his was entirely consumed by this fantasy. He was unaware of how close he had brought himself to actual climax. His tip of his penis had become coated by pre-cum fluid, smeared against the insides of his briefs. His heart was racing, and his muscles tensed all over.

Blinking in confusion, Poe swallowed hard, beating down the rush of adrenalin that threatened to overwhelm him. His moment of selfish passion had nearly become a public embarrassment. He closed his eyes, waiting for the tense throbbing in his penis to subside, to finally drain away into its usual soft state. He could feel the cool damp on his sensitive glans, the warning sign that had roused him from his daydream and kept him from finally exploding all over himself. Blushing, Poe hurried out of the shop was soon as he was comfortably able to do so. He gave his fantasy lover a quick glance, but she was apparently lost in a world of her own as well.

When Poe returned to his apartment, he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The recent and vivid memory of what happened at the coffee house returned to him. Not only what that wonderful, unknown girl looked like, and what he’d imagined doing with her. That was certainly erotic enough. But what caused him to pause was how far he’d gone into that fantasy while sitting in his chair. Never had he allowed himself to come so close to the edge of orgasm in public circumstances. It seemed the longer he went without a girlfriend, the more intense his fantasies became. Now that primal urge had trespassed beyond the privacy of his bedroom. It was, on one level, appalling. At the same time, it was also extremely exciting. If he’d been able to safely stroke himself over the edge in that coffee shop, he would have.

The idea, once implanted, grew like a cancer. Public fantasy and orgasm. The freedom of self satisfaction in any circumstance. He’d already tasted the perverse pleasure of that activity, at least to a certain extent. The only problem to be solved was the inevitable mess that would result. And yet, wasn’t the solution patently clear? Reaching over to the bed stand, he removed a 3-pack of lubricated condoms. They’d been there for some time.

How hard would it be? To simply slip one on before leaving for the night, or even the day? To be able to complete the act of mental masturbation without fear of discovery? The very thought was so wanton and liberating that his erection returned anew. Naturally reaching for his penis, he massaged the flesh in a familiar, gentle manner. For the first time, it wasn’t thoughts of sex that fueled his masturbation, but that act of self abuse in and of itself. He imagined all the ways he could secretly stroke himself off, of all the women who would become unsuspecting subjects for his ardor.

It was a perverse and dangerous road to travel, and that knowledge excited him too. He didn’t allow himself to come. Lying alone in bed, his cock hot and tense in his hand, he realized that his resolve would melt away in the moments after his orgasm. He wanted to savor this. His next orgasm would not come this way, but rather, within his trousers as he mentally raped a worthy passer by.

He did not sleep easily that night. His erection waxed and waned as he ruminated on his plan. He continued to milk pre-cum onto his fingers until he was sure he would have none left. His body craved climax, but he relented, smiling at his will power to resist. His dreams, when they came, were abstract and fleeting.

* * *

In the morning, Poe showered as usual, preparing for the days lectures. He hadn’t forgotten his resolve though, not at all. Already engorged, he rolled the slippery sheath of thin rubber over his organ before putting on his clothes. He was still erect as he stepped outside, but that finally went down as he made his way towards the campus. One thing he’d decided was not to exploit this new freedom too soon.

It was during the second lecture in the afternoon when inspiration took hold. Seated near the back row, he had a wide and expansive view of all the students below him. He only personally knew a few of them. He didn’t typically pay them a great deal of attention, instead listening to the professor and making copious notations. Today, distracted as he was, he eyes alighted on a fellow student seated not too far from his right, one row down. She had long, curly blonde hair that reached past her shoulders. From this angle, it was hard to see her face clearly, but she did seem very pretty. What drew his attention were her stockinged feet, crossed at the ankles underneath her chair. She had apparently taken off her shoes to make herself more comfortable. She had very cute feet, outlined through the fabric of her tan nylon pantyhose.

Always, it starts with the legs, Poe realized. Must be a personal kink. Not the breasts, but the legs; those elegant sleek limbs that led the way to the most glorious organ of all. What kind of pubic thatch must such a girl have with riotous hair like that? What a joy to spread those crisp curly hairs aside to expose the soft petals of her labia, and the delicate pink flesh inside.

By the time these thoughts filtered through his mind, Poe became aware that he was fiercely erect. He covertly moved a hand to his lap, pressing down. He could feel the band of rolled rubber at the base of his prick which assured him the condom had remained firmly in place. He shifted his legs so that the length of his prick remained pressed between his closed thighs, offering a means of stimulation more subtle than his hand would have been.

His attention returned to the nearby blonde. She had a great sense of fashion, if a little conventional. She wore a crisp white blouse and a flowing, flower patterned skirt. The fabric looked light and sheer, and would probably fall easily from her hips once he’d unbuttoned or unzipped it from behind. On the other hand, it would be fun to keep her dressed, and simply turn up that skirt past her waist to expose her hose and panties. He’d bet anything her underwear were plain white cotton; she looked like that sort of girl. Pure, uncomplicated -corruptible. No doubt the idea of remaining fully clad during sex would be shocking to her. He could tear a hole through her nylons at the crotch in order to access her snatch. The gusset of her panties moved aside, he could molest her tender cunt at his complete and utter leisure.

Straining against his briefs, his turgid erection came free of his thighs, creating an obvious bulge in his trousers. Dropping a hand back to his lap, he gave himself a firm squeeze. With all eyes fixed forward, and a good deal of distance between himself and the front of the class, there was little danger of his activity being discovered. Still, he felt intensely nervous and jittery. Determined not to psych himself out, Poe re-settled his breathing and continued to watch the object of his fantasy.

Viewing her from this oblique angle, it made him consider the contours of her back, and what it would be like to take her from behind. It was easy to picture her on all fours, skirt draped across her back, her hindquarters lifted in the air. He wouldn’t plunge in right away, of course. No, first he would pry into the opening of her vagina, spreading the walls apart with two stiff fingers. Holding her waist tight, he would force as many digits as possible into that soft moistness, expanding her from the inside. She would be so loose in there that, by the time he finally forced his prick within, there would barely be any pressure at all. He could fuck her for a very long time like that, her clothes disordered but still in place just as she began. He would hold onto the back of her neck with one hand; the same he had used in her pussy, still carrying the pungent scent of her sex.

Having to sit still in his chair while his heart raced with the flush of sexual adrenalin was a perverse torture. Although he kept a placid face, his hands were clenched on the surface of the flip-top desk. Thankfully, there was at least a chair’s worth of space between himself and the nearest student. Stealing a hand back down to his lap, he felt for the head of his cock through his pants. He could feel his glans slide against the rubber, the insides smeared with his own seeping lubricant. His balls were now tight to his body, and he clenched his buttocks to increase the tension.

In his mind’s eye, the girl he was fucking had lost some of her strength, arms collapsed to her sides. Her eyes half closed, she was now simply a vessel for his pent up ardor. The fingers of his hand rhythmically clasped over his organ, bringing physical stimulation to match his mental one. His legs stiffened, and his jaw went tight. Having brought the girl down to the ground, he lay fully on top of her, lunging in short deep strokes inside her undefendable cunt. The violence of his fantasy did not concern him at all. This closer he came to orgasm, the more intense he needed the fantasy to be.

Holding his breath, his covert rubbing centered now almost entirely on his glans, harder and faster now, in tight circles. Anyone who glanced over would only think he was scratching himself. In fact, he was cresting on the verge of climax, his head swimming with the details of his fantasy and his own rampant arousal. There was virtually no way of stopping, he was so far gone. His eyes closed, and his teeth clenched tight. His fantasy melted away as he marveled at the rush of sensation, realizing that within mere moments he would be experiencing his first public orgasm. That perverse thought was the final trigger. His hand pressed hard against his lap, he felt every pulse as semen coursed through the length of his penis. He wanted to give the loudest grunt of his life, but instead continued to hold his breath for an insane amount of time as he rode the orgasm, making him even more light headed.

He had only minutes to regain his wits before the end of class. He immediately went to the bathroom and locked himself into a stall. Undoing his pants, he looked down with satisfaction at the hanging teat of the condom, well filled with his seed. His cock had become soft, but the rubber still managed to cling. This was worthy to note for the future, when a trip to the privacy of a bathroom stall wouldn’t be possible. Peeling off the rubber, he dumped it into the toilet and quickly wiped off his prick before resuming the rest of the day. Anyone seeing the contented glow on his face would probably have assumed the young man had gotten very lucky. In a way, they would be right.

* * *

Poe’s next foray into his perversity took place a couple of days later. Sated by his first experience, he didn’t feel the immediate need to repeat it right away . He convinced himself it was all much more about being spontaneous and free rather than being deliberately perverted. So, despite rolling on a condom each morning, his lectures went by as smoothly as they had in the past. There were no opportunities presented at the coffee house either.

It was while riding the subway after class that, without intent, he found himself in the thrall of another fantasy. She was seated across from him, a few seats over towards his left. She was of obvious Asian descent, with long thick black hair and wonderful dark brown eyes. She was perhaps close to thirty years old, and her impeccable jacket and skirt suggested she was a downtown office worker, probably for a Bay Street firm. That well tailored skirt was very short, revealing a great deal of her skinny, naturally tanned legs.

Such a woman one would expect to sit with a straight back and primly scissored legs. Instead, perhaps due to the exhaustion of a full work day, she slouched with one arm up on the seat, knees well apart. Stealing a look, he could see the inside of her right thigh nearly to her panties.

She was staring idly out the window, oblivious to Poe’s scrutiny. There were very few others riding in this train car, and the slow rise of his erection informed him of the chance being presented. He fought the idea back. There was every chance that she could leave at the next stop, or someone else might get on and end up sitting right beside him. So, best not to force the issue.

Instead, he just let his gaze rest lightly on this woman’s casually spread legs, his cock naturally hardening at the sight. He’d never been with an Asian girl before, had never had the chance. They definitely had a unique and special beauty, and this one here was no exception. That which is different from one’s self will always seem exotic and intriguing, he reflected. No doubt some natural impulse towards genetic diversity.

One thing he knew for certain that was different about Asian women were their straight pubic hairs. Looking at the inviting gap between this woman’s thighs, it was impossible not to consider this. How much easier would the act of cunnilingus be with all those smooth, fine straight hairs instead of crinkly, curly ones? And what shade would the outer lips of her labia be? Poe glanced up at the unconcerned, bored face of the office lady. What would it take to turn such an expression into one of ecstatic joy? After a hard day’s work, wouldn’t she welcome the relaxation and distraction that a good long oral teasing would bring? Slouched back just as she was, she would look down at him with that same bored expression, waiting for him to get her juices flowing.

He would be her servant, concerned and consumed with her pleasure over his own. He would pull back that skirt and bury his face in the open gap between her thighs. He would caress the smooth skin of her naked legs, pushing up her thighs to greater expose her waiting cunt. At first, she would show no sign of concern at all, probably not even looking down at him. But after a short time, the action of his sucking lips and his wet, scraping tongue on her sensitive organ would have her vagina wet and seeping. Her breathing would quicken, and that subtle frown would be replaced with a vacant expression of an entirely different kind.

Without the aid of direct stimulation, his own prick had grown into hard and tense erection. Hardly conscious of the action, he raised and clenched his buttocks in rhythmic intervals, each strain gradually raising the level of his arousal. Barely moving a visible inch, he was miming the muscular movements of intercourse.

In his imagination, the Asian goddess had slumped onto her back, her narrow eyes closed tight as her excitement mounted. The fingers of one hand were employed in probing the depths of her cunt, while he continued the effort on her clit with his tireless tongue. He yearned to fill that channel with his cock, but he would have to wait until his mistress had tasted her pleasure first. In the surreal melding of fantasy and physical sensation, his sexual arousal became the real analogue for hers. Barely aware of the fact, the tip of his penis began oozing it’s clear trail of pre-cum, paving the way for the expected ejaculation of his seed.

Hands fixed to his sides, Poe’s only physical stimulation was derived from the straining of his interior muscles. He employed that typically unused and untrained set of reactions that allowed one to twitch or move one’s penis, only noticeable when in full erection. His entire being burned for more intense contact, for the tight grip of his hands, or the unseen sanctuary of a vagina, such as the one he was fingering in his imagination. His vision turned soft at the edges, unfocused. Anyone listening to his breathing would have imagine him to be in some distress, perhaps even in real pain. It felt like every sensory organ of his body had become secondary to the tension and heat of his trapped penis.

Poe was teetering on a virtual cliff, having never come so close to the point of climax without ever actually touching himself. His right hand shot forward to grip the nearby steel pole, clenching it tightly between his fingers. Taking a single deep breath, he strained, arching himself so that his rear came up off the seat. He hovered like that for a while, in a rictus not unlike death, the object of his intense desire only a few scant meters away. Then it happened. He thought he could feel the semen literally travel from up his testes, around the loop and into his prostate. His cock suddenly reared up as if of it’s own accord, and the orgasmic trigger sent this semen pumping through and into the tip of the condom.

“There are no footprints at the front of the building.” Rachel said, staring out. “Let’s try the spare bedroom.”

Cleo followed behind Rachel into a smaller room filled with odds and ends of furniture and boxes. Some were opened and some still waiting to be unpacked. Cleo stood close behind Rachel and looked out over her shoulder. It looked as if there were two sets of footprints leading to the old barn. Cleo remembered a story Jenny had told her one evening over a bottle or two of wine about how her friend Linda had been brutally raped in that barn and how she had been molested herself. Jenny would never go back in there. She’d even tried to get Paul to buy the property and pull it down. It had been one of the few times Paul had not given in to her. He had said that just because something evil happens in a building it doesn’t mean that the building is evil.

Two sets of tracks were heading in and both recent. Why no tracks out? Had it been summer then you could imagine two lovers sneaking inside.

What was that coming from the rear of the building? Smoke.

“What do you keep in there?” Cleo asked.

“Nothing at the moment.” Rachel replied. “It’s full of old farm machinery and straw bales. Hey. It’s on fire.”

A they watched the smoke was increasing. A small dark figure left the building and glanced in their direction before heading towards the steep path. They waited for the expected second person to appear.

Nobody came out.

“We’ve got to go and check there is nobody still in the Barn.” Cleo said.

“But.”

“We have to hurry.”

They could both see the reddish glow building up inside the open door of the Barn.

“Come on.” Cleo urged. “We have to check.”

“Let me put some clothes on.” Rachel said letting her robe drop to the floor and opening a drawer.

How many backside had she seen, Cleo thought, and yet she had to look. High, tight and round. She could just make out the odd wisp of hair between her legs as she lifted one foot after the other into a pair of knickers and jeans. Rachel turned to face her as she pulled a jumper over her head. Her breasts were high and firm. Her nipples proud and erect.

“There,” said Rachel, slipping her feet into a pair of closed toed shoes, “that didn’t take long. Did you enjoy the view?”

“What?” Cleo stammered. “I didn’t. I wasn’t.”

“Don’t forget. I am a fully paid up member of the Lesbian fraternity. Besides there is a mirror on the back of the dressing table. Don’t look so worried. I won’t tell anybody.”

Rachel smiled and slowly drew her fingers down the side of Cleo’s face and down further still, over the mound of her breast.

“But.” Was all Cleo could think of to say as Rachel led the way down the stairs. Rachel hesitated at the back door for a moment and looked over her shoulder at Cleo.

“Do you think it’s safe?”

“I’m sure the other person has gone, if that’s what you mean.”

Don’t talk about it, she thought. We’ll talk ourselves out of going.

“Alright.” Rachel said, throwing the bolts, opening the door a crack and peering out.

Without another word she suddenly opened the door and, stepping outside, headed to the barn.

Cleo followed. It was fairly mild. That could mean more snow. Yes, large flakes were starting to fall.

They both stopped at the door of the barn. Cleo could hear somebody moaning and looked inside. The building was filling with smoke and she could see some old straw bails mouldering at the back of the barn. Occasionally flames would leap up then die back as if they weren’t yet in charge. Water was dripping from the roof. The groan again.

A figure was lying on its face in the first stall. It was wearing a black coat with bright yellow markings.

“It’s a policeman.” Rachel said, coughing.

They knelt down on either side of the figure and turned him onto his back. Cleo could see a small trickle of blood running down in front of one ear. She followed it with her fingers until she came to a small lump under his hair. He moaned as she touched it.

“What?” He coughed, struggling to sit up.

“Are you able to move?” Cleo asked, the smoke was leaving an acid taste at the back of her throat.

The Doctor in her said keep the patient still until you have ascertained the full extent of his injuries. Everything else inside her knew they had to get away from the fire and smoke and quickly.

“Help me stand.” The Policeman said, holding out an arm.

With Rachel and Cleo on either side supporting him he staggered to his feet. He swayed a bit at first then allowed them to help him out of the barn into the suddenly cold night air. Cleo could feel ‘goose bumps’ popping out on her naked legs. At the back door to the house he asked them to stop and reaching inside his coat pulled out the combined speaker and microphone to his radio. They could hear a voice repeating over and over, “Four eight. Four eight. Come in. Are you receiving me? Four eight. Four eight. Come in please.”

“This is four eight.” The Policeman gasped into the handset. “I am at the old Watson farm. Somebody attacked me. Wait.”

He turned to the two women.

“Did you see anybody?” He asked.

“Yes.” Rachel replied. “We saw a figure running away from the barn towards the path up the hill.”

“Hallo this is four eight.” The policeman spoke again into his handset. “The suspect was seen heading towards Knowle Hill.”

“Thank you four eight.” The voice replied. “Do you require any assistance.”

“There is a barn on fire. We need the fire brigade.”

“Roger four eight.”

Rachel had opened the door to the house and the policeman followed them into the kitchen. Cleo examined his head whilst Rachel made fresh coffee. The policeman kept looking out at the barn as if gauging the hold the fire had taken whilst telling them a little of Roberta Long and her love of starting fires.

It was fifteen minutes before they heard the sounds of police sirens approaching in the distance. They all went to the front door and stepped outside. A procession of vehicles were coming slowly towards them headed by a yellow lorry with a snow plough fitted to the front and flashing orange lights followed by the more familiar blue and red lights of the police and fire brigade.

“You’d be waiting until this time next year for the council to send a lorry to clear away the snow on a road like this normally.” Rachel observed ruefully. “It’s amazing what having a policeman in your house can do.”

The vehicles pulled up to a halt outside and the policeman reported to his Sergeant whilst the Fireman attacked the fire in the barn.

Cleo felt Rachel’s hand on her hip and turned her head to look down into her face.

“You’re not going to leave me here alone tonight, are you?” Rachel asked.

Cleo didn’t answer. Now the question had been asked what should she say?

She stalled.

“I think we had better make some more coffee.”

But she didn’t remove Rachel’s hand as they walked back into the house.

It was an hour before the fire chief announced he was happy that there was no further risk from the fire in the barn. An hour, during which word was received that Roberta Long had been apprehended in Chipping Marsden.

The policeman came back to the house as the firemen were packing up.

“We have somebody on the radio wanting to speak to you.” He smiled at Cleo.

“Who is it?” Cleo asked, following him to the Land Rover.

“It’s your friends the Wagstaffe’s.”

Cleo took the offered handset from the policeman behind the steering wheel.

“Hallo.” She said into the mouthpiece.

“Hallo Cleo.” A woman’s voice answered. “We’ve been so worried. How are you? Shall we come and get you?”

“I’m fine, thanks Jenny.” Cleo relied, she was suddenly conscious of Rachel standing by her side. This was it. Decision time. “No. Don’t collect me. I’ll spend the night here.”

The words came out before she even had time to think them. Cleo felt Rachel move in closer, her hand rested on her hip then moved down to her ass cheek. It squeezed gently.

“The police found your hire car after a man reported being attacked by a woman.” Jenny spoke quickly. “The police contacted Richard and he contacted us and we contacted the police. Well I must go. Paul sends his love. You are sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The line went dead.

“Are you sure you don’t want a lift somewhere?” The policeman asked, looking from one to the other.

“We will be fine.” Rachel assured him.

They stood close together in the doorway and waved to the departing vehicles. Rachel closed the door and led Cleo by the hand to the foot of the stairs.

“Time for bed.” She said.

Cleo hesitated for a moment then followed Rachel up the stairs and into the front bedroom. Rachel switched on a bedside table light and pulled the curtains. Cleo stood still by the side of the bed arms dangling by her side. She didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.

Rachel stood in front of her and ran her fingers slowly and so lightly down the side of Cleo’s face. Then down again. This time closing around her breast and squeezing it gently through her jumper, blouse and bra. Reaching up with her other hand Rachel placed it behind Cleo’s head and pulled her mouth down, meeting her lips with her own. At first Cleo tensed then she slowly relaxed and allowed her lips to part to allow the entry of Rachel’s tongue. She tensed again as Rachel’s hand slid down her spine and cupped one of the cheeks of her ass. Then she moved it back up, pulling her jumper with it. As Rachel pulled her lips away Cleo lifted her arms above her head. Her jumper fell to the floor. Cleo looked down as Rachel’ nimble fingers undid the buttons on her blouse and pushed it back, off her shoulders and down her arms. As it fell to the ground to join her jumper Rachel’s fingers deftly released the clasp of Cleo’s bra. As it joined the growing pile of her clothing Cleo reached out and lifted Rachel’s jumper over her head. For a second they looked at each other’s breasts then kissed again. Their breasts squashed flat with their hardening nipples pressing into one another. Without releasing their kiss their fingers fumbled with each other’s skirt fastenings and knicker elastic until Cleo felt the soft, but wiry feeling of Rachel’s pubic mound pressing against her own. Automatically their hands felt each other’s ass cheeks. Pulling them apart then pushing them together. Cleo gasped out loud as Rachel’s finger slid slowly between her ass cheeks and came to rest on her anus. She gasped again as it slowly explored each fold of skin around her tightly closed hole then moved further down until it just touched the start of her slit.

Cleo groaned her disappointment as Rachel released her and stepped back. Then Rachel turned and pulled open the covers on the bed.

“Come on.” She said, taking Cleo’s hand and sliding across into the middle of the bed.

As Cleo lay on her back Rachel leaned over her, her nipples brushing her own and switched off the light. For a few second the darkness was total then the room lightened to the glow from the moon outside. Cleo could see the outline of Rachel’s head above her and lifted her own until their lips touched. Tongues fencing and probing Cleo felt one of Rachel’s hands close around her breast. Rachel lifted her mouth from Cleo’s and lowered it to her nipple licking it gently with her tongue then sucking it between her lips.

Instinctively Cleo opened her legs and lifted her hips from the bed as Rachel released her nipple and moved slowly down her body. Running her fingers through Rachel’s hair as she explored her navel with her tongue. Pulling her knees up to her breasts as Rachel moved between her legs. Crying out loud as her tongue entered her pussy.

Cleo found it hard to catch her breath as Rachel sucked on her pussy lips then pushed her tongue deep inside her again. Even harder to breathe when she moved to her clit and sucked it out from it’s cover. Her entire body went rigid as her first orgasm ripped through her; it was quickly followed by a second then a third. Each one more intense than the last. Rachel licked and sucked on her clit gentler yet more insistently than anybody before, including Marty. Cleo peaked again as Rachel pushed first one then a second finger into her.

Cleo collapsed back onto the pillows as Rachel moved away from her, pulling her fingers from her hole. She blinked as the bedside light on the far side of the bed was switched on and Rachel fumbled for something inside the bedside cupboard.

Cleo gasped out loud when she saw what she was holding in her hand as she turned back to face her. Amidst a tangled mass of straps and buckles she held a large black penis shaped dildo. Before she could lower and close her legs Rachel had moved to kneel between them and started to fit the straps around her waist and thighs.

Seeing the look on Cleo’s face Rachel said.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Looking down at Cleo’s open pussy she made some adjustments to the straps. When she was satisfied she moved forward. Cleo could feel the head of the dildo pressing against her pussy. Knocking at her door.

“Help me in.” Rachel said brushing Cleo’s lips with own. “Please.”

Sensing a need she didn’t understand in Rachel Cleo found herself reaching down between her legs and holding open her pussy lips as she guided the head of the dildo between them as she had done for Richard’s cock less then twenty four hours earlier. She hadn’t gasped for him as she did for Rachel as she thrust the dildo deep inside her. Rachel pulled back and thrust again and again forcing the breath from Cleo. She gasped again and wrapping her arms around Rachel’s back lifted her hips from the bed to meet her thrusts. Thrusts that increased in pace. Cleo could feel herself building to another orgasm as she heard and felt Rachel come.

“Don’t stop.” Cleo almost begged as Rachel paused to catch her own breath.

“I won’t.” Came the breathless reply.

Rachel started moving again. Long slow strokes, slowly building the tempo. Better then any man Cleo had ever had. Rachel knew when to slow to allow a wave of pleasure to run over her then to catch it at its peak and carry it on to the next wave. Cleo could hear the subtle changes in Rachel’s breathing as she approached her own orgasm. Her own come seemed to trigger it as with a strangled cry Rachel collapsed forward on top of her the dildo still deep inside her. It seemed an age before either moved then Rachel pulled the dildo out of her and sat back on her heels and looked down onto her body. Her eyes travelled up to Cleo’s face and they both smiled.

“I wish I’d been born with one of these.” Rachel said, holding the base of the dildo and waving it from side to side.

“You could have been.” Cleo replied, with feeling.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.” Cleo replied hesitantly then with more confidence as she realised that Rachel cared whether she actually had enjoyed it. She’d been asked the question before by men after they had fucked her but she had known they were more seeking re-assurance about their own performances then any genuine concern about her. She also realised that perhaps they weren’t alone in wanting that. “It was great. Really good. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Had she overdone the praise?

Rachel’s smile as she lay down by her side, the dildo pressing against her thigh, told her it was worth it.

Rachel switched off the light and they held each other in silence. Watching the moonlight lighten the room then fade as a cloud obscured its face.

It was full daylight when Cleo next opened her eyes. Rachel had a finger inside her that she was gently swirling around. Cleo smiled. A lazy, half-asleep smile. She felt so warm, so comfortable. This was her favourite time with Richard. The long, slow early morning fuck.

Cleo reached down for the dildo which was still fixed around Rachel waist and pulled her on top of her by it. Holding herself open she guided it inside her. Wrapping her arms and legs around Rachel as she moved it in and out. It felt so good. So right.

She could feel the pressure building inside her. Building with every movement Rachel made. She cried out gently as she came.

Rachel stopped and looked down at her face. They both smiled.

“You Bastard. You bitch.”

Rachel leapt from the bed tearing the dildo from her hole.

In the doorway stood a woman. A very pretty woman. She was shaking with rage.

“It’s not what you think Lesley.” Rachel stammered the dildo, glistening with Cleo’s lubricant, sticking out from her body.

“You Bastard. You Bitch.” Lesley repeated. “So this is what happens every time I turn my back?”

Cleo recognised the words she used. She’d used the same ones the day before.