Around the World in Eighteen Lays

CHAPTER 5: VANCOUVER AND BEYOND

A healthy dose of passionate pussy in Vancouver. Melissa and Antonia relive the past while porn plays on the screen in front of them.

It was a close-run thing, getting from Logan to Salt Lake City airport in time to catch his flight to Vancouver. As he settled into his seat, he turned around and asked, of no-one in particular, "Is this plane going to Vancouver?" He couldn't get used to the casual boarding habits in American airports, where one plane replaced another as if they were at a bus station in Leicester.

"Yes," replied the woman in the seat next to him. "And this was the time to ask."

He smiled at her. Nice-looking woman. Late twenties, he guessed, and dressed for a business meeting. Charcoal linen suit, frilly white blouse (but not too frilly), patent leather shoes and black stockings. Actually rather yummy.

But he wasn't going to try his luck quite so soon. It was a relief to have a conversation with a woman without the pressure of wanting to get laid. He liked the way Americans would pick up a conversation with strangers in a friendly, almost intimate way, in a coffee bar or a pizza place or an airport waiting room. It was all for the moment; no expectation of the beginning of a friendship, just a way to pass the time pleasantly. In England, you could expect to be cut dead.

"You have business in Vancouver?" he asked.

"I do. Actually, I have to give a presentation."

"About?"

"Improving the company's image with Asians. I work for an image consultancy firm and I'm doing this for a perfume company."

"I wish I could tell you the name of the fragrance you're wearing. I can't, but I do like it. Subtle."

Now if this were Edinburgh, say, the woman might think it was a pick-up line and he would get the treatment. But Frieda, as she turned out to be, was perfectly at ease.

"Thank you, you're too kind. Now tell me what you're going to Vancouver for."

"Well, I suppose you could say it's a kind of market research." He couldn't believe he was saying this. What kind of second-rate movie did he think he was in?

"What are you selling?"

"I'm selling myself short." It was the only way he could think of recovering. "Actually, I was a bit shy to tell you what I'm travelling for, so it was the first thing that came into my mind."

"Now I'm curious. Romance? Exploration? Adventure? Investigation?"

"All of the above. My girlfriend Melissa has sent me on a quest."

"A quest? You're a knight? Where's your coat of arms?"

This was a good question. What was his badge? He thought hard. "Have you read

Orlando Furioso

?"

"Well no, but I remember something about it in a TV series called -- what was it --

Changing Places

? From a novel by David Lodge. He's looking for Angelica." Educated, too, but anyone in her line of consultancy needed a bit of cultural capital.

"Yes, well, there's an episode where two friends are challenged to find a chaste woman."

"I thought most men were looking out for an unchaste woman."

"O no, I would never do that. Why do you think I'm talking to you? OK, so eventually they seduce a young woman. Both of them have her, and then they fall asleep with her between them. They are woken up in the middle of the night because the bed is shaking. She's having sex with her boyfriend right there in the same bed. They are so tickled they pay her a shedload of cash."

"No wonder Virginia Woolf thought she should write her version of

Orlando

."

"Touché."

"So, you're on a quest to find a chaste woman. And now you've found me, what are you going to do?"

"Define 'chaste'."

"It's the opposite of slut."

"Describes you to a 'T'. As it happens, I've got to go all round the world, and I can't leave any town before I've tasted -- what shall we say? -- the local specialty."

"So what was it like in Salt Lake City?"

"Utah can be proud."

"Did you stand up for yourself?"

"I did. So far I've been to Newfoundland, New Hampshire and Minnesota. As well as Utah, of course."

"Been? Or come?"

"I'm far too refined for words like that."

"I'll bet you are. Now, John -- John who?"

"John Donne."

"Yeah, sure. And I'm Grace Kelly."

"No, really. You must know his poems."

"Of course. That's why you went to Newfoundland. Let me see, now: Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee. Anyway, it makes a good story. Well, John Donne, I think I can help you."

Surely not. In any case, she was most likely from the United States and he needed a Canadian tonight. For the purposes of comparison.

She quickly disabused him. "No, not me. Although maybe, at another time, in another universe . . . I'll show you where to go."

"Deal."

"After my presentation, say at 5, meet me in the cocktail lounge of the Sylvia Hotel, on Stanley Park. And you don't have to dress up as Errol Flynn."

That was a mercy. They met, they drank Manhattans, and then they strolled out into the park.

"You see all these beautiful healthy young women in their jogging outfits? Let's get one for you."

It was an odd kind of brothel, full of sports bras and leggings, and she was an odd kind of madam, elegant and slim. What was her secret?

In the end, she was proved right and by nine that evening he was in position 6, the Pretzel Dip. About right for the Pacific Rim, unless they were going to try rimming, but it was a big ocean and there would be time enough. Vancouver's finest, Joy, showed him how.

"I should have done more yoga," he thought, as he got everything in place and plunged deep into her. He managed. The whole length of his shaft was pleasured by her supple cunt, while she bit her lip and eventually just let it all go unrestrainedly and joyously. Was it a shriek? Was it a shout? Was it a scream? Whatever it was, her pussy lurched with the strength of it and he came instantaneously.

"So many of my girlfriends have told me how they had to wait for a woman to show them how to really enjoy sex, to feel really satisfied," said Melissa. She and Antonia were snug on her couch, watching some girl-on-girl action.

"Look at the way she's caressing the other one's breast? That's it, nice and slow. Let's have a good look." The smooth breast seemed to fill the entire screen, with a finger playing softly and slowly with the tip of the nipple. The photography was superb, the image sharp, and both Melissa and Antonia instinctively drew closer to each other as they watched, entranced and inflamed.

"Wow, that is hot," acknowledged Melissa. "You can do that to me later. But first I want to tell you how I got here. It wasn't self-help and it wasn't a lesbian experience. It was Martin."

"Good for Martin. How did he do it? Was he an older man? Plenty of experience?"

"No, he was my age, about twenty-three. I wasn't a virgin, but it was all pretty run-of-the-mill. You know, good date, it's getting late, your place or mine? That sort of thing. Enough foreplay to make him hard and me wet and willing, and then on with the bonk."

"You make it sound like a cup of tea or a dip in a swimming-pool."

"Cups and dips enough, Antonia my dear. Now you know me, I'm 34C and you're 32A and we get along just fine." She ran a finger lightly over Antonia's small, perfectly formed breast beneath the striped cotton shirt. "So Martin and I met, would you believe it, at the Boat Show. Lovely summer's day, we just found ourselves looking at the same boats and then walking together and finally sitting by the quayside at St Catherine's Dock. Pretty soon we knew we were going to go to bed together.

"When he touched my breasts for the first time, he drew in his breath sharply and said, I've never, never had a girl with breasts like yours. That felt good, and I'm sure they felt good, too, in his hands. Later, when we got down to it seriously, he said he was going to treasure me. And he certainly did. He didn't just pull it out and poke it in like so many of them do. He spent about an hour just worshipping my body."

"With my body I thee worship," twinkled Antonia, turning to Melissa and steadying a hand over her pussy. "Show me everywhere he touched and I'll touch you too."

It was a wonderful rehearsal. Antonia's feathery touch brought Melissa's skin to life. With her blouse open and her bra unfastened, her jeans unzipped and her knickers gradually disappearing she was being caressed again as she had been by Martin years before. The porn movie continued; or at least, it had flipped on to the next one, which was boy-girl so Melissa could enjoy the sight of cock-sucking even as she was being teased and squeezed.

Antonia smiled. "The best of both possible worlds," she said, slipping off her shirt to bare her breasts and then swiftly stripping down to nothing. She wanted to make sure that Melissa did not only get the benefit of her fingers and palms but the texture of her pussy in pleasant places. Eventually Melissa could take no more.

"Down on me, Toni, down and lick me out."

"Am I as good as Martin? Must I go get a dildo? Am I bringing back happy memories?"

"Toni, if Martin was half as good as you that would have been the best sex I ever had with a guy."

"You've had better?" asked Antonia, looking up from her pussy, curious.

"O yes, but you would give them a good run for their money. And if you keep doing what you're doing, you get first prize."

"This is first prize," smiled Antonia, and dived in again.

"Is the Pacific Sea my home?" mused John Donne to himself as his plane swung around to face that vast ocean. "All straits, and none but straits . . . I wonder whether the old bugger was thinking of clefts and cleavage when he said straits were the route to heaven? My goodness, but Joy's cleft felt good. I can still feel it clutching me."

Maybe the Canada-USA face-off was a tie. Anna and Joy just as good, if not better, than Barbara and Melanie and Sarah. Should he draw up a spreadsheet? He pulled out his laptop, hoping that the Japanese gentleman two seats away couldn't read what he was typing.

"Let's see, now: name, location, position, hair colour, bra size, pussy matted or smooth, number of orgasms, overall satisfaction -- what else? Whoa, John," he said to himself, closing the file and starting an email to Melissa instead. "What is this? Women aren't prize ponies for their points to be compared. I loved them all and I fucked them all, and how good it was and now I'm going to give Melissa something that will make her happy. Right, attach the photograph."

Joy was lying on the bed in her studio, tanned all over and looking as if she should be in a pornographic runner's magazine. Not much in the bust area, 34A at best, but her body was slender and lissom body and she moved it with grace. Sarah's lessons had come in handy. The delicate folds of Joy's pussy, with the comforting fragrance of her dark mat, occupied him for almost an hour as she came once, twice, three times under his tongue and then again, again and again, when he entered her.

It was all he could do to keep his fingers to the keyboard. If only he had known, Melissa needed no more stimulation than a kiss from Antonia, full and slow and long on her mouth, to be begging for it. Her pussy was his peace, and it was Antonia's playground. Out, out over the ocean, where his next encounter was waiting.

Next time: John admires boobs on the beach in Hawaii, and Melissa and Antonia make the most of country matters.