Naked Bisexual Lube Wrestling. Ten women, one guy. Exactly what it says on the tin.
"Ali? Love?" My girlfriend Becca entered our bedroom, putting her phone away. "We're invited to a party at Jen's, Saturday after next."
"What sort of party?"
"The
good
kind!" Becca gave me a wicked smile. "Some friend has moved back to London, from abroad. It'll be a proper 'filthy lesbian celebration', she says."
"A good party? That's what we call sapphic orgies now, is it?" I raised an eyebrow, my pretend snark hiding my enthusiasm. One doesn't want to look like a total slut.
Oh, who am I kidding? I
love
being a total slut, at any appropriate event. Like a 'good' party at Jen's.
I love Jen, one of my oldest London friends, but she has varied friend groups. Some are rather too straight and vanilla. Not to mention the patronising disablism that too often comes with those. I don't lay myself open for that without good reason. At least my work colleagues have all got with the programme, now; me being a wheelchair-using dyke. Some took more hitshitting with the metaphorical clue-bat than others.
"Speak for yourself! You're the one who ends up snogging half the room at every do." Becca sighed. She's shyer than me, when it comes to fun flirtation. It's not that she minds me kissing other women - or men, sometimes - but she has body image problems and thinks people won't be interested in her.
Which is daft. Sure, she's a stocky butch shortarse, so she's not the typical fantasy of straight males, but given Bec's a gold-star dyke, who gives a shit? I tell you, I'm the beholder, and she's beautiful. So much personality shining out her face; cute little smile, kind eyes. That's enough for me, even before reaching her most fantastic huge tits, needing specialist shops to provide bras for. They are truly lush and outstanding. I didn't know bras
came
in a KK cup until I got together with her! Her body is broad, solid. She's pure muscle, and power. Each thigh is twice the size of my head! Which makes her arse a huge heaven of flesh to hang onto, while I shove my head between her legs... that's heaven, trust me.
I love watching her own the track, when she plays roller derby. She's grown her hair out a bit, at least in the middle. It's like a wide short mohawk, no longer bristly. I love the feel when her head is fuzzy and shaved, too, but sadly that usually means she's going a bit mentally wobbly. Doesn't think she 'deserves' her gorgeous hair, or she wants to avoid attention for her looks, that kind of shit. I'm the opposite. I've usually got my hair sticking up in floppy spikes, in a colour that stands out. I used to be peroxide blonde most of theof the the time, in my twenties, but in recent years I've worked through shades of red. Deep Fire, the current orange-red dye says.
See, I'm going to get attention no matter what, so I roll with it. Not a pun; I said that even before Becca bullied me into finally getting a wheelchair. That was five years ago; I've got a more supportive model, with a headrest, now. I use it most of the time when I'm out. I've got a neurological condition that causes pain and fatigue, sometimes unpredictably. I
can
do pretty much anything - as long as it's not for long, as then I'm likely to crash and need a day in bed to recover. Or two, off my tits on the good painkillers. Lovely lovely opiates...
It means conserving energy is important. Leaves more of it for sex, right? I try to avoid needing Bec to be my 'carer'. She insists all couples look out for each other, that's all. True enough, but I don't want to need her help pulling me out the bath again, no matter how many jokes she makes about my naked body being 'all wet for her'! She says I keep her grounded, whatever that means. She's not been sectioned in the local mental hospital since we moved in together, nor tried to kill herself in a decade, so I guess I'm doing it OK.
That's all a bit depressing. What were we talking about? Oh, yeah, slutty lesbian orgies!
"The room would love to kiss you, too. You're just more shy."
"Don't want to be kissed by just anyone," Becca grumbled.
"Well then - can't complain, can ya?" She's kissed Jen - and Jen's charming girlfriend Dani - at almost every party we've been at. I encourage them. "Oh, was that a hint? Come here!"
Becca did that shy smile of hers. It grew as she settled on the sofa and pulled me on top of her, my little tits making dents in her big pillowy ones. When she came up for air after a good amount of kissing, I heard, "Love you, Ali."
Nearly two weeks later, I was looking forward to Jen's party. Yes, it's Dani's flat too, but Dani's the career woman, working the 9-7, while Jen's job gives her plenty of time to look after the home. And her siblings, and her friends, and various waifs and strays. She's warm and friendly to everyone. Heart of the community, they'll call her when she's elderly.
Jen called. I stuck her on speakerphone.
"You know my wee brother Ben? Yeah, well. His fiancé dumped him, so he's been living with me this past ten days."
"Oh no! Poor sweetie!" Becca called out.
Ben's four years younger than Jen. She calls him her 'baby' brother. He's never grown her levels of common sense. A sweet boy, though - he's been at lots of her more sedate parties. I say boy - he must be early twenties by now. Cute young thing.
"Poor love," I told Jen.
"Yes. So, I was wondering if it would be OK to have him at the party? He's very well behaved, he'd be happy to just look, not touch, but let's face it, a dozen naked lesbians might be just the thing to perk him up!"
"
Something
will perk up! Becs? You know Ben. What do you think?"
As I predicted, Becca was nervous. She's wary of men, in general. Not just lack of interest in them.
Jen tried persuasion. "He'd love to see you, Becca. He's got a thing for big tits! Mummy issues, I reckon. He won't make a move, though, I'll make sure of that! Please?"
It's rare for Jen to ask anyone for anything. Which meant Becca wanted to agree, for her. "You're sure he's well behaved?"
