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This is a work of fiction and fantasy. It is not meant to imply that all lesbians are secretly waiting for an opportunity to jump on a cock. It is, however, on Literotica so you can probably guess where the story is heading…
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Chapter 1 – Paige
“Bulmers! Crisps! Ice in the cider!” Paige’s voice, normally loud enough to fill a stadium, was barely audible over the wall of noise that was a city centre pub at 5pm on a sunny Friday.
“Er… Please?!” Added one of the women near Paige when everyone else at the crammed table laughed at her offhand instructions in response to my universal hand signal of ‘drinky-drinky’.
“Er… Please don’t make me be nice to him. It’ll only encourage him.” She immediately replied good-humouredly to the sound of more laughs. I didn’t mind her lack of graces. An hour with Paige was worth a week with the rest of the stuffed shirts from the office, and her straight-talking was a big part of that. Several other people wanted drinks, but fewer than the last round – I suspected people would start sneaking off home shortly.
I came back from the bar and dished out the drinks. In front of Paige I placed the biggest, most over the top cocktail the barmaid would make me. Straws, umbrellas and fruit decorated a super-sweet, fizzing, bright blue concoction that was more sugar than alcohol.
“Oh, you fucking prick!” Paige spat as the rest of the table laughed again. The joke that had them going was that Paige was not exactly the most girly of girls. An out and proud lesbian who cared much more about the football team she played for than make-up or clothes, she was unlikely to be impressed by a fruity drink. But she had an indomitable love for life and a razor-sharp wit. She also didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about her. She was the closest thing I had to a proper friend in the soulless, corporate machine I had been labouring in for the previous 12 months.
To prove her displeasure, Paige timed it perfectly and caught me square in the face with an ice-cube as I sat down. I had been ready for her to counter after the cocktail though, so I unleashed my secret weapon and casually tossed the bag of prawn cocktail crisps I had bought her on the table.
“There you go, a taste of home.” I said, letting everyone draw a line between the seafood flavoured snacks and Paige’s sex life. The rest of the table looked uneasy at the turn the humour taken – but fuck ’em, I knew my target. Paige laughed uproariously while pretending to wear a scandalised look on her face.
“Cheeky fucker!” Paige squealed, I could tell she wasn’t upset, she just wasn’t that kind of girl. “Anyway, dickhead, you eat the same thing in bed that I do!” That was actually a very fair point, though I had not had much opportunity recently; a messy breakup and a busy new job had seen to that.
As Paige and I continued our back and forth, I looked at our colleagues sat round the table, squirming uncomfortably about the brazen nature of our discussion. Everyone knew Paige was a lesbian, she talked about her fiancé, Charlie, all the time. No one seemed to have a problem with it in the old fashioned ‘sin against God’ way. But at the same time, everyone seemed to tip-toe around the issue in a way that made no sense to me. No one ever asked the questions of Paige that they asked other girls who were planning weddings, or asked her the same questions about her weekend plans, as if they were scared the answer might be ‘scissoring’.
That was their loss; Paige was the most genuine and fun person I worked with. Before long we both had empty glasses in front of us so I made the drinky-drinky motion again. Paige shouted “Bulmers! Ice! More fanny-flavoured crisps.”
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Three hours later and we really were the only ones from our group still drinking in the pub. Everyone else had made their excuses and slipped away to whatever suburban misery they had planned for the weekend. I was climbing in the morning, but a friend was driving to the crag so I could be a hungover passenger and still be ready to go when we got to Wales. Paige was also without plans for the night as Charlie was away with work for another week (and had been for two weeks previously). She was an engineer and was working on a project being tested in Arizona. I wondered briefly if Paige missed her – she certainly never pined for her publicly.
When she had last come back from the bar, Paige had thrown herself theatrically down on my side of the table, leaning her body heavily against my side. She now rested her booze-weary head onto my shoulder and I caught a scent of her perfume. Paige did not overdo the makeup or fuss with her hair (a simple ponytail was always good enough for her) but she always smelled exquisite. She had previously confessed that Charlie couldn’t leave her alone when Paige wore her favourite perfume. It was a zesty, ‘sporty’ fragrance that, along with her shampoo and skin always gave Paige the cleanest smell I had ever experienced. I once had asked whether Charlie wore the bahçeşehir escort same one and had been surprised to hear that despite it being her favourite scent to smell on her girlfriend, she never wore it herself, preferring to douse herself in richer, sweeter perfumes which, ironically, was what made Paige go nuts.
As we sat there trading anecdotes and film references, I let my mind wander to the warm body snuggled up against me. Despite her oft-stated disdain for the beauty standards hoisted on women, Paige was a bit of a beauty herself. Not in the Instagram-model way. Rather, Paige’s face and body filled my mind with her total confidence and comfort within her own skin. An online troll would have picked up her total absence of foundation or her slightly formless jeans. But I only saw her authenticity (and her Cross-Fit sculpted ass, hidden under those clothes).
“Are you gay?”
I was snapped back to the room by Paige’s question.
“Er… What?” I asked, perplexed. “No, not at all.” I managed to tack on.
“But how do you know?” Paige continued. “Have you ever had sex with a guy?”
“No, I haven’t.” I answered her second question first as it was the easier one to deal with. “I suppose I know because I don’t fancy men at all. I only fancy women.”
“Hmmm, that’s what I was worried about.” Paige said slowly. Because I don’t fancy women at all. I only fancy people. I fancy Charlie and I fancied all my girlfriends before that but I just don’t think I can say I ‘fancy women’, I’m attracted to the individual, not the gender.”
This was sounding too much like a Guardian editorial for my booze-addled brain, so my next question was pretty blunt.
“So, have you ever had sex with a boy? Are you a virgin?” This time I could tell her scandalised look was entirely genuine.
“You fucking bellend. Do you think I’m a virgin because I haven’t had sex with a man? I promise I’ve fucked more women than you have. Not everything in the whole world is about your dick, you Neanderthal.”
She had sat up and turned to face me and my Neanderthal brain had noted the loss of her warm body long before my Homosapien brain had realised I had upset a friend. I back-peddled furiously, but I couldn’t quite get my words out right and suddenly I had left the Guardian and was sounding like the comments section of the Daily Mail.
Eventually I convinced her that I was not devaluing her relationship and lifestyle because it didn’t match my CIS-gendered expectations. She calmed down and insisted I buy another round of drinks to make amends. I knew Paige wouldn’t hold a grudge and by the time I got back, she was eyeing me calmly.
“I haven’t actually had sex with a boy. The furthest I went was with Jamie Woodrow when I let him ‘grab my pussy’ at a house party in First Year of Uni. That was before I knew I was an all-the-way-gay.” Paige delighted in using Trump’s vulgar phrase whenever she could, it was a small act of rebellion to her. “But I lost my virginity to Elizabeth Hall about six months later so don’t say anything else stupid.”
We chatted for a bit more about sexuality and what it meant to each of us when the conversation made another unexpected change in direction.
“Do you fancy me?” Paige’s cheeky grin peeked out from over her glass. When I stumbled for an answer she continued. “You said you fancy women. I am a woman (last time I checked). Do you fancy me?”
“Well..” I stalled. “Just because I fancy women as a gender, doesn’t mean I fancy all women as individuals.”
Paige seized on this. “So you, like me, are attracted to individuals, not a whole gender!”
She may have had a point there; I was too confused to know for sure. Instead I put my foot in it and continued answering her previous question.
“But in your case, yes… you could say I fancy you. A bit. I suppose” It wasn’t my most eloquent moment.
Paige’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. And she took another big sip of her drink, seeming to steel herself for some forthcoming trial.
“Would you want to have sex with me?” She asked quietly, looking away as soon as she finished speaking. “Maybe I should try it out before I get married, just in case Jamie Woodrow was an anomaly.”
“No.” I answered firmly. You ARE all-the-way-gay, I am sure of that. And you and Charlie are the cutest couple I know. I wouldn’t want to get anywhere in the middle of that.”
“Oh, I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve seen the way you look at Charlie.” Paige joked, immediately taking some of the tension out of the conversation. She was right, of course, I had fantasised a thousand times about being in the middle of a sapphic-sandwich with Paige and Charlie.
“Well obviously I would love to have sex with you. Or Charlie. AND Charlie.” I added at the end with a grin. But I’m a man, and I’m straight, so of course I would. But I wouldn’t want to upset your applecart and I don’t see what YOU are after.”
Paige took another big drink and laid it out for me. She was gay, of that she was sure. bakırköy escort But she had decided that at such a young age that she was worried she had cut some parts of herself off before they had developed. Before she committed to Charlie for the rest of her life, she wanted to fully explore every corner of herself. “What if I just really like Doc Martins?” she joked. It was classic, fearless Paige.
“But you don’t fancy me, do you?” I asked.
“Well first of all, I don’t fancy my Rampant Rabbit but I fuck that on the regular and enjoy it plenty. Second, I like you. I like you in a way I normally don’t like boys. I certainly like you more than Jamie Woodrow and look at how far he got. You are cool and I figure at best I learn something about myself. At worst I treat you like a human-dildo and just think about Ruby Rose the whole time. That usually works when I am with my Rabbit.”
She had me at ‘human-dildo’.
……………………..
Paige and Charlie’s flat was only a five minute walk from the pub, but with our stumbling walk, it took a little longer than that. Soon enough, however, we were sat together on the edge of her bed, too nervous to relax properly. I checked one last time that she really wanted to do this, then examined my own motivations. I was disappointed that I had abandoned my moral objection to interposing between Paige and Charlie, especially as it had only taken one, slightly smutty innuendo to do so. On the other hand… sex. I decided I was ok with it if she was.
“Ready?” I asked her, and leant forward the 90% of the distance that Will Smith advised in Hitch. I held myself there, inside her personal space but making no move to touch her. I could tell she was nervous (probably an unfamiliar sensation for Paige) as her certainty that she wanted to try this wilted in the face of actually making the leap. In that long second’s hesitation I drank in more of her scent, but her real scent, not just her perfume, as well as the graceful, feminine line of the her jaw and her slim neck. Paige was right, of course; women are not beautiful because of clothes or make-up. Women ARE beautiful, full stop. This one certainly was.
Paige leant the remaining 10% of the way towards me and our lips touched softly. Hers were soft and smooth, without that tacky sensation of lip-gloss I was so used to. We swapped gentle but nervous kisses for what felt like a long time before I upped the intensity a fraction. I put my hand on her back and slid it up to her hair then ever so softly, pulled her face to mine. She responded by opening her mouth and brushing my lips with her tongue. After that we were kissing properly. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was having a wonderful time. I brought my other hand to her waist and pressed firmly to turn her body so it was more open to me. She broke away. I asked her if anything was wrong.
“Sorry.” She said, breathing a little hard. “That was nice, it just feels a little weird. Like, you have stubble, which is fine, but I’m totally not used to it. Also, I tend to be the one in control, Charlie much prefers it when I take the lead, so I’m not used it being the other way around.”
“No problem,” I said “You can be in charge, I don’t mind at all.” I didn’t actually know if I minded or not. I hadn’t ever really thought about whether I was dominant in bed or not. I did know that sex usually went better and the girl seemed to enjoy it more if I took the lead.
“Actually, I am ok with it. Just different. That’s all.” Paige leant back in for another kiss; I put my hand back on her waist and to the soft hair on the back of her head. She kissed me harder.
We stayed like that for some time, kissing gently at first, then with more and more passion. Paige kept her eyes closed while kissing but looked me in the eyes and smiled each time we broke apart. Eventually we were both breathing hard. I slipped my hand from her waist up to the side of her breast. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed so I continued, cupping her soft, warm breast through her work shirt and bra.
Paige pulled away again and started unbuttoning her shirt from the top. Soon I was treated to the sight of her chest coming into view. As she undid the last button I reached forward and slid the shirt off her shoulders, then placed a lingering kiss on her collar bone.
“Eeek! Stubble!” She giggled and my rough face dragged over her soft skin. But she didn’t pull away, instead, she gripped the back of my head as my kisses explored her neck, behind her ear, down through her clavicle and towards the exposed skin on the top of her breasts. At the same time, I undid her bra with a practised snap of the fingers.
“Well, you can already do one thing that Jamie Woodrow couldn’t.” She sighed into my ear as I pulled the bra away from her body. The sigh deepened as I closed my lips around a nipple and gently sucked it until the skin hardened under my touch. I repeated the process on the other side while cupping both of her mounds in my hands. “Mmmmm.” Breathed Paige.
Once başakşehir escort I had my fill of molesting her chest, I gently pushed her back onto her bed with her feet still on the floor. I stood and removed her cowboy boots, her socks and unbuttoned her jeans. Paige placed her hands on mine and I stopped all movement, waiting for her to make the next move. She took her hands away and let them drop to her sides.
“Ok, I’m ready.” She said quietly.
I tucked my fingers into her waistband and pulled the material towards me. I had intended to strip her in stages and leave her pants on for a while longer, but as soon as I saw her mons begin to appear, I realised the whole lot was coming off in one go. A few more tugs and she was totally nude in front of my eyes. She instinctively closed her legs and draped a hand over her most intimate area before catching what she had done and opening herself back up to my gaze.
“Charlie only ever looks me in the eyes when we have sex.” Paige said, clearly a little amused.
“Roger, yup, eyes, got-it, yup, mm-hmm.” I replied, without ever taking my eyes from her beautiful body. I stood there like a zombie, just inside her bent knees with my fingertips gently caressing the top of her thigh. The only indication that I hadn’t had a brain aneurism was the enormous erection now obvious in my trousers.
“Hey! Dickhead!” Paige shouted loudly, clapping her hands twice to get my attention. Reluctantly I turned my eyes to her face and saw her smile.
“Yes?” I asked innocently.
“Are you looking at my pubes?” She asked with a sly little voice.
“Looking for them would be a better description.” I responded.
“Charlie and I have a rule, no hair below the eyebrows!” She said with a shimmy of her hips. “It just makes everything slicker and smoother.” I feasted my eyes again on the beautiful, bare folds of her labia. Suddenly I could take no more. I pulled my shirt off, barely pausing to undo any buttons, popped the fly on my trousers, then threw myself down on top of her. With my hands in her hair again, I pinned her head to the bed and assaulted her lips with my own. She gasped between kisses as I freed a hand to trace the outside of her shape, from her ear, all the way down to her knee. She must have been able to feel my erection through my boxers as our writhing pulled my trousers towards the floor and my shaft rubbed over her bare slit.
With as much self-control as I could muster, I slid down her body, kicking off my trousers and boxers as I went until I was kneeling at the edge of her bed with a thigh on either side of me. Keeping the scantest grip on that control, I avoided diving head-first into her. Instead I started at her knees and kissed my way up her inside leg. When I got to the top, I licked every inch of her that wasn’t actually her pussy.
“Eeeeeek! Stubble!” She shouted again but I ignored her, as my kisses strayed onto her labia and then, eventually, I dragged my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top. Jesus, she tasted amazing. I was rewarded with a long groan from the other end of the bed as she pressed her head into the mattress. I repeated the action until my face was wet with her juices and my tongue ached. I wanted more though. It shouldn’t have been at the top of my mind but Paige often made references to how many times Charlie made her orgasm and while I was unlikely to compete with her, I felt like I was representing men everywhere with this opportunity I had been given. We were going no further until I made Paige come.
With this as my goal, I temporarily shelved my delight at having this exquisite plaything in front of me and got down to the real work. I rubbed two fingers from my right hand into her folds, coating them in her wetness, before shifting my tongue up to her clit and gently spearing her hole with my digits. A gasp and another groan came from somewhere above my head. I concentrated on that sound, trying different things in different places with tongues and fingers until I heard it again. Once I had found the right spot, tempo and pressure, I stuck to it, rubbing and licking steadily as Paige started writhing around me. She would grab my head then, I suspect because she didn’t find Charlie’s red mane of hair, grip the bedsheets and clench her thighs around my ears. In another few moments she would grip my hair again.
Once she started begging me to go harder and faster I knew I had her, but I also knew I had to ignore her, keeping up the same rhythm, only fine tuning my location as she rolled her hips to get her most sensitive spots in front of my tongue. For my patience I was rewarded by being called a “fucking, mother-fucking, fucker” as she begged me to go faster but I knew the explosion would be bigger when it did come if I didn’t rush it.
It was worth the wait. Paige prided herself on not being too girly at work. As her orgasm broke, she wasn’t even that human. While her abdomen shook, she took on the personality of an animal, shrieking and grunting as her strong internal muscles squeezed my fingers and her nails scratched the back of my head. Her juices flowed over my tongue and I concentrated on squeezing every drop of pleasure I could out of her. Eventually she had enough but I kept licking so to get me to stop she had to punch me in the side of the head before rolling onto her front and laughing.
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