A Girly Chat
If you want to catch up on my adventures to date, you’ll find the list of all 117 blogs here: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble
If you want to catch up on my adventures to date, you’ll find the list of all 117 blogs here: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble
I hadn’t been on top form for a couple of days and had considered cancelling my evening with Lizzie but in the end, having spoken to her I decided to go just for a drink. (Some hope of that plan surviving the night!)
As no naughtiness was planned we revisited an earlier bar, one that had comfortable seats and a pleasant selection of wine. We both drove ourselves too as I’d come straight from the office. So it was going to be a quiet, sober, chat between two sedate middle-aged women. Right.
I was there first, bought my drink, and found a table. I looked around the bar, purely by habit, to see what the clientele was like. A few businessmen, a scattering of couples, and a solitary drinker. It was a shame we hadn’t had that selection last week, but not to worry.
Lizzie turned up soon after, and we kissed platonically and settled down. After the usual pleasantries, I asked the question. “How are you both after last week?”
“Fine. Why did something special happen?” She tried to keep a straight face as she said it but failed and a broad grin swept across her face. “How do you think we are Witch? On cloud nine. Skyrocketing to the stars. Going where no man has gone before.”
“So no regrets?” She didn’t answer just opened her eyes wide. “Okay, that’s good. I have to say I found it quite pleasurable myself.” I did a better job than Lizzie at keeping a straight face, but she punched my arm. “Okay, okay. I found it as horny as hell!”
“That’s better. If I had to go home and tell Chris the best description you could come up with was ‘quite pleasurable’ it would crush his self-esteem.”
We chatted on about the evening. Lizzie had no regrets about any of it. She said after Chris’s initial ‘incursion’ (her word) up her skirt, her reservations disappeared. Would she do it again? Like a shot she said. I asked about inviting the old boy and the two men over.
“That could have been a challenge,” she said, “close up like that may have been different. I know I’ve just said I’d do it all again, and I mean it, but I also mean I’m still not interested in anything physical. Present company excepted of course,” she added with a smile and a pat on my leg. I didn’t remind her of the previous week when she’d stood next to a table of three men and lifted her skirt to show them her knickers.
“What about Chris?”
“What about him?”
“He’s happy with you and me doing things?”
She looked at me as if I’d asked the most stupid question since man first spoke. I laughed. “Yes, stupid question I suppose, but some men are very possessive as I know only too well.”
“I can assure you Chris is not one of them, not as far as sharing me with you anyway.”
That gave me an excuse to widen the conversation.
“What about other women? Would you like to meet some friends of mine? Would Chris object? He could tag along.”
“We did talk that through. About me and women generally. Chris was okay with it, surprise, surprise, but I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t see myself going out and chatting up other women to get them into bed. I hadn’t realised you had friends doing it. Stupid really. It should have been obvious you would. I think if that’s the case then yes, I’d be happy to play but I think I’d prefer to meet them first.”
“Of course you should, that wouldn’t be a problem. There’s not loads, just two really. I must have mentioned them; Carol and Mary?”
“You probably have, but to be honest when I’m out with you and you — we — end up doing things I’m not sure I take in much of what’s been said.”
I gave her a sketch of them both, leaving out the kinkier parts. I didn’t want to scare her off having got her this far.
“They sound fun. Yes, I’d love to meet them both. Can Chris come?”
“Of course. He needs to know what they’re like. I should say though they do both play with men, but would respect your wishes if Chris is off limits.”
“He is. Most definitely!” Lizzie was most emphatic. I pushed on.
“What’s his attitude to you and men?”
“How do you mean?”
“Is he happy for you to play or are they off-limits to you?”
“He says he’s okay with me doing things apart from actual, you know, intercourse, but I’m not sure I want to.”
“Not sure?” I saw a chink in her armour!
She looked stern but her tone suggested otherwise. “Look witch, in the blink of an eye you’ve changed me from a reserved behind the bedroom door kind of gal to a ‘come snd look what I’m doing mate’ woman and now you’re suggesting I go full throttle to ‘give me your cock I want it inside me!”
“Listen to yourself Elizabeth,” I said in the schoolma'am tone I’d used effectively on her son, “the words you use, the tone, you can’t tell me deep down the thought of having another man doesn’t excite you.”
“I’m not. Of course it does. Doesn’t every woman watching a film think wow I’d love that hunk to fuck me? Hardly the same is it, as walking into someone’s home and having a stranger lead me upstairs and fuck me?”
She was giving herself away. I’d bet my house on that scenario being a fantasy of hers and I said so. Her reply was interesting.
She took a gulp of her wine, a habit of hers when she was thinking about how to respond to a question of mine.
“Not quite, but I suppose if I’m being honest not a million miles away.” She smiled broadly. “My fantasy involves three men. But…” she added hurriedly, “…it is pure fantasy.”
“Why? Now you’ve done what you’ve done, discussed it all with Chris, he’s said he’s happy for you to do anything you want…”
“Not including fucking,” she interjected.
“Okay he’s happy for you to have ‘contact’ with men, you fantasise about having ‘contact ‘ with men; where’s the problem?”
Another slurp of wine. At this rate, we’d be going home in a taxi. “Why do you always seem to ask questions that make me do things I don’t want to?”
“Don’t want to? Oh, come on! You know you could say no to anything I suggest.”
“I know. I’m just trying to salve my conscience. Prove to myself that it’s not me being slutty, it’s you talking me into it.”
“And who wins the argument when you get home? You or your former self?”
“No contest. Me.”
“I rest my case.” She didn’t answer me, simply picked up our now empty glasses and took them to the bar. Returning with them refilled she put them on the table sat down, put her elbows on the table, clasped her hands together, and rested her chin on them staring into my eyes. “Where did you learn this witchcraft? How do you block my mind from finding logical arguments to throw back at you?” A dramatic sigh, worthy of an over enthusiastic ten year old in a school play, escaped her body. “I hate you.” The last three words were said in a tone more used when saying ‘I love you’, so I didn’t give them much attention. The smile on her face didn’t help the words either.
“So?”
“So, yes. In the right circumstances I’d let a man touch me and perhaps, only perhaps mark you, give him a hand job.” She held up her hand to stop me from answering her. “I know that is far less than you say I want to do. It probably is, and it’s far less than I fantasise about. But at this point in time it’s all you’re getting. It will let me argue with myself from both sides and win.”
I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but given we were now well down our third glass of a rather palatable Pinot, that wasn’t surprising.
We chatted for a while longer, had another glass of wine, then decided it was time to leave. I checked with the barman that it was okay to leave the cars and we phoned for a taxi.
We’d started the evening saying we were going to be good girls and just chat, but after the sexy nature of that chat, and the copious amounts of wine we’d consumed, we both realised the end of the evening would be different. We went outside to wait for the cab and stood in silence. I was getting hornier by the second. I’d decided what I wanted to do. I think Lizzie was certain I had plans and was wondering what they entailed.
The cab arrived. An old black cab. Perfect. The journey time would only be about fifteen minutes so I didn’t have time to waste. If Lizzie objected I’d not bother trying.
I gave the driver Lizzie’s address as it was slightly further and he could drop me off on the way back. We climbed in and as soon as we’d sat down I turned and kissed Lizzie and my hand went up her skirt. She didn’t object. The kiss was returned, our tongues re-enacting their dual of last week. Her hand rocketed up my skirt. She seemed surprised to find I wasn’t wearing knickers. (I’d taken them off before I left work. I know the intention had been not to play, but a girl needs to be prepared doesn’t she?) Not that she stopped to ask why. Her fingers massaged my lips and soon had moisture seeping out.
Mine fingers were being effective too. Her knickers were no impediment. I used the palm of my hand to rub her lips and it had the desired effect. Our lips didn’t part but Lizzie started moaning. I was wearing a suit with a pencil skirt and hadn’t had a chance to hitch it up so couldn’t spread my legs much. Lizzie’s skirt had a wide hem so she had nothing to prevent her opening her legs wide, and she did. My mind was eighty percent occupied by Lizzie, but the other twenty percent was wondering how much the driver could see. There was a glass partition which may have stopped Elizabeth’s low moans reaching his ears, but I’m sure the view in his mirror was more than enough for him to have a pleasurable night. I wondered if Lizzie had thought about it because, with the way she’d spread her legs, there would be nothing hidden from his eyes.
I wanted to kiss Elizabeth between her legs but desperately needed her to do it to me too. There wouldn’t be time for both, so I unselfishly (!!!!) broke the kiss and dropped my head between her legs. All too soon I felt the cab slowing down outside Lizzie’s house. Neither of us had come, but we were both hot. As the cab stopped Lizzie whispered, “God, that’s frustrating. I’d invite you in, but there’s John.” I thought ‘That’s okay, he can join in.’ I said, “Yes. Understood.” We kissed again. I said I’d take care of the cabbie and she went inside. No doubt to a gold medal night with Chris. I had my hot chocolate to look forward to.
The drive to my house only took two minutes and I got my card out to pay the driver, a middle aged local man.
As I paid I asked the question, “I hope you didn’t mind us playing in the back. We enjoy an audience.” If he hadn’t seen anything I expected a puzzled look on his face. I got a wide grin. “Not at all luv. You and your girlfriend can play anytime.”
I was sorely tempted to take it further but just couldn’t bring myself to suggest it. He was middle-aged. (As in not being a manipulable teenager). A stranger. I was alone. (As in no one to tell me to ignore my concerns.) Too many phobia inducing worries. But that I’d actually thought about the possibility was a plus. So I simply said. “That’s good. Off you go and have a play yourself. I lifted my skirt giving him a view of my naked pussy, blew him a kiss, and went indoors to that hot chocolate.
