As Long As It Takes 1

DESIGkNICKERS recorded Alex's painful encounter with an American woman, and my efforts to administer therapy and achieve release. I now continue into the next day, after a peaceful night's slumber in each other's arms.

1

Reveille came in the form of Alex's tongue on my left nipple, and awakening consisted of slow and gentle clitting until, with appreciative murmurs, we came together. Thus refreshed, we rose and breakfasted and Alex left for a business appointment, and left me to tidy up and leave when I was ready.

I described her accommodation as being 'over the shop,' but it is actually on the same floor. So when I walked into the adjacent studio, I was not surprised to find her partner settling in front of a laptop. She looked up and said, 'Good morning. You must be Norma, Alex's lover.'

Such directness is bracing and I replied, 'Good morning, yes, I'm Norma, fresh from our happy awakening. And you are Lucinda, the IT sorceress.'

'Well, it's not really magic, you know, just tweaking a few noughts and ones.'

'Would you like some coffee?' I asked.

'That would be kind. I usually boot myself up with caffeine as the laptop loads.'

I went to make a pot, pondering Lucinda's appearance. She was small and smart in a charcoal-grey business-suit and black blouse. Shorter than me, she was plump, but not overweight, her figure cottage-loaf shaped. Her dark hair was gathered into a ponytail. Her dark eyes and eyebrows were partially obscured by large-lensed spectacles, perched on a short, broad nose. Her lips were luscious, lipsticked in maroon. She gave the impression of energy and determination.

When I returned with the tray, she had 3D images swirling on the screen, and as I began to pour out she said, 'These are your pants. I've just inputted the data. Cotton, polyester and elastane, all-cotton gusset. You're probably wearing the first pair. Have you approved them?'

'What do you think?' I said, lifting my skirt. 'Pretty neat.'

'Turn round,' she commanded. 'Yes, all is safely gathered in. Elastic not too tight?'

'The grip under the cheeks is kind of reassuring there's no riding up.'

'You have trouble with that usually?'

'All the knickers I've tried have climbed up my arse, all my life, except the school ones. But these feel fine.'

'OK. We'll go ahead. Assorted colours, if that's all right.'

'Yes, please. I supposed you have the firm's pants, too?'

'Of course, and my bum is really hard to suit. I'm not going to show you, though.'

'Pity,' I said, 'I would have liked that.'

'Well, yes, you would, wouldn't you?'

'Of course. I'm a roving and raving lez. As, apparently, you know.'

'Oh, yes, Alex tells me pretty much everything. Do you have other lovers?'

'Yes, I do. We like variety.'

'Isn't that a bit promiscuous?'

'No. It's a lot promiscuous.'

She swung round on her swivel chair and picked up her mug. The movement entailed a brief parting of her thighs and I was alert to the flash of black panties. She said, 'How did we get into this conversation?'

'Through my knickers,' I reminded her. 'And yours, black today.'

'Always black, because my husband likes that.'

'You're telling me to cease trying to seduce you. Though you're curious, aren't you?'

'Well, I've always wondered what lesbians actually do.'

'Haven't you asked Alex?'

'Not really.'

'You're scared that if you asked her she'd offer to show you, and that would be tricky for the partnership.'

She drank a mouthful. 'Alex said you're a perceptive woman.'

'But you can ask me, because I'm not involved.'

'Yes.' She flashed me a glance over the rim of the mug as she drank.

'Go ahead, then,' I said.

'Maybe. I need to think what. Would you like to see what else we're working on?'

She drained her drink and swung back to her screen, perhaps deliberately, yielding a gusset-glance, and her fingers pattered on the keys, till another image came up. 'We're branching out into bras. As you know, no women's breasts are quite symmetrical, and they're all different, anyway, even if there are some basic types.'

'Well, we lesbians can attest to that. That's one of the joys, that they're different. And my left one is a bit bigger than the right, and the nipples are not quite in the same places, and they've been like that since they grew. What about yours?'

'My husband has never commented..'

'Perhaps it needs an observant woman.'

'Of course, they are slightly different. And next you'll want me to show you.'

'That would be delightful.'

My conviction grew that this woman's curiosity could have a pleasurable outcome.'

'Anyway,' she went on, 'The point is that we can make the perfect bra, each cup designed to fit perfectly.'

'And,' I suggested, 'You could modify the design to cater for changes, such pregnancy, breast-feeding and ageing.'

'We thought of that, yes.'

I took a bold step. 'Why don't you show me how it's done?'

'You know that already - we just do the same for breasts as for behinds.'

'But I want to commission bras for me. I could do with more comfort in the bust.'

'You just want to show me your tits, don't you? You think that'll make me a lesbian.'

'Hardly, though I should add that some woman are born lesbians, some achieve lesbianism and some have lesbianism thrust upon them. Bit of the last in the 1970s when it seemed right to some who joined the Women's Movement, and gave themselves names like Sunflower and Cloud. Long before your time.'

'And I'm not having it thrust upon me, either.'

'Let me point out, Lucinda, that about 25% of women have a sexual encounter with another woman, at least once, without being or becoming lesbians,' I said, pulling my shirt of out my waistband and undoing the buttons.

As she was shorter, and I was standing close, my bra'd bosom was somewhat in her face, and she said , 'You think if you wave your boobs at me I'll get sexy.' But she was, actually, showing little signs of agitation, clenching her fists, licking her lips.

Off came the shirt, and I reached behind me to unlatch the bra, noting that she was trying not to look but nonetheless glancing. 'As you see,' I said, 'I like broad straps, to take the weight without cutting into the shoulders.' Then I peeled the cups away, and the breasts settled lower, as breasts mostly do.

'Well, I can see they do need good support, though I can't spot the difference.'

'They need to settle first,' I said, 'Though not everything settles.'

'You mean the nipples go hard when exposed,' she said. 'Everyone's do that.'

'But some go extra hard for other reasons, like these.'

'You're getting a charge out of this, aren't you?' she asked, almost angrily.

'Does it bother you? I countered.

'No, of course not. I'm just not used to - I don't normally do the scanning.'

'I think yours are coming out in sympathy,' I ventured.

'How do you know?... I mean, you can't know...'

'Come on,' I coaxed. 'Why not admit it? It doesn't make you a lesbian.'

Without answering, she picked up what I took to be a camera of some kind, and hid her face behind it to view me through the lens. 'Turn left,' she instructed. 'Now right. Straight ahead. Now I have to kneel to get them from below.'

She put the device down and said, 'You can get dressed now '

'You haven't asked what we lesbians do with them,' I reminded her. 'Just imagine, there we are, two opposing pairs, nipples armed and ready for action - what do we do?'

She swallowed nervously, wanting to know but scared of betraying herself. 'You do what men do.'

'But men can't do what we do. Not much fun twanging nipples with a bloke,' I said.

'Is that it?'

'Well, that's one thing to do. Of course, they can fit in places, too.'

'You put them in your...'

'Lucinda, I can sense even through your blouse and bra that you're aroused, and you're breathing a bit, and I suspect your special black ones are damp, like mine.'

'My husband wouldn't like it,' she said in a small voice.

'He doesn't have to know,' I said, 'And there may even be things he doesn't do.'

'But you'll tell Alex, won't you?'

We were almost there. 'No, I think you should tell her,' I suggested 'And the partnership could be the closer, if you are lovers.' And I reached for her and drew her face into my cleavage, and, like a child seeking to suckle, she tentatively took a nipple between her lips.

After a few moments she pulled away, stepped back. 'I shouldn't be doing this.'

Then I launched the crucial bombshell. 'If you don't, dear Lucinda, you will wonder and wonder what might have happened, what you might have learned, what you missed.'

I gathered her to me again, turned up her chin and began a long, tender kiss. Which she at first resisted, then began to reciprocate, so our tongues probed and entwined and she put her arms round me and stroked my back.

2

I disengaged myself to finish undressing, then pirouetted a couple of times, to lighten the atmosphere. She stood motionless, waiting for what might ensue, a little shocked, but accepting. She was passive as I took off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair, and began to tremble as I unzipped and drew the skirt over her head. When I unbuttoned and took off her blouse she made little whimpering sounds and put out her hands, moving them about on my body, as if uncertain where to touch me.

I took her in my arms and we kissed again. This time she was eager, mashing her lips against mine and thrusting her tongue, but when I reached round her to undo her bra she took her mouth away and pulled me close to prevent my removing it. 'Don't,' she said. 'Don't look. They're horrible, freaky.' But she didn't resist as I took it off.

Of course, they weren't horrible. They were beautiful, with long nipples, evidently what she thought were so odd as to be repellent. 'Lucinda,' I said, 'They are magnificent. I love them.'

'My husband says I could rig a line between them and hang out the washing.'

'You know,' I said, 'There are big breasts with small nipples and small ones with big nipples, and every other permutation and they are all lovely. And yours are so delightful I could suck them all day. But first I must ogle those splendid knickers. Turn slowly and show me - yes, a perfect fit, and what a bottom to show them off!'

'My husband says if I was a waitress I could carry two trays at once, one in my hands and one on my arse.'

It certainly did jut out almost horizontally from just below the small of her back, and then made a perfect semi-circle in profile. It was not so much an apple-bottom as a two-pumpkin bottom.

'It's bloody huge, isn't it?' she said. 'Bigger than yours - and yours is...'

'Yup. Mine's pretty large, but what's wrong with a big bum? Be proud of it, like me and Alex, not ashamed. And now I've got to see it properly. Down with those knickers, But slowly. Let me enjoy the suspense as those chunky cheeks come into view. And then hand them over.'

The jokey tone was helping her relax, and as she pushed down the pants, she giggled and wriggled, and turned back to pass me the garment.

'Glorious glutes,' I said, 'And you couldn't get a knife into that tight crack. Not that I'd want to. I'd rather fit some fingers in there.' I spread my hands inside the knicker and tested their give. 'Springy, like mine, to afford that comfy sense of arsehold.' I removed my hands, bunched them under my nose and breathed in. 'Mmmn. Lovely, and damp, as I said..'

'You're a knicker-sniffer.'

'Certainly am. We lezzies adore the scent of each other's gussets. Actually, quite a few non-lesbians like the pong of other women's panties. And their own. Don't you sample yours? Or maybe your husband fishes them out of the laundry-basket?'

'You can't help smelling them sometimes, can you? He wouldn't do that - he thinks what comes out of there is disgusting.'

'Even though it's what enables him to get in there?'

'Actually, there's not usually much, and he likes it like that.'

Naturally, I now inspected her mons, and it was close-cropped. She said, 'Ugly, isn't it? My husband likes it like that. He doesn't want it shaved, or waxed, because it gets stubbley, and he says only whores are shaved, and he doesn't want to have to hack his way through the jungle. He likes to see where he's going.'

'Well, it's difficult to get lost even in the densest forest if you just keep going south,' I said.'And some people enjoy exploring. There are exciting things to find in there.'

'My husband likes things plain and straightforward.'

'Well now, Lucinda,' I said. 'Here we are, naked, and ready. What next?'

'I don't know. This is new for me. I don't know what to say or do.'

'Do you want to make love?'

She stood silent, head turned away for a moment. 'I don't know what that means.'

'Would you like me to give you pleasure, to make you come?'

Silent again, looking into my eyes, as if the answer were there. 'Can you do that?'

'Why don't we go and find out? I want to very much, and you can stop any time.'

'Why do you want to?'

'You know, the greatest joy for anyone is to give supreme pleasure to someone else. It's a way of showing respect, concern, admiration, regard, affection. And it's intoxicating when he or she comes.' I took her hand and led her towards the door into Alex's rooms.

'We can't go in there,' she said. 'Alex wouldn't like it.'

'Lucinda, there's nothing Alex would like more, except taking you in there herself.'

In the bedroom, she stood looking down, her hand over her crew-cut mount, as if ashamed not just that she was there but that she had agreed, wanted, to be there. I turned back the duvet and fetched a towel from the bathroom.

'Why do we need that?' she asked, 'Without a man...?'

'Well, I'm hoping we can make our own cream.'

I guided her to, and laid her on the bed, and lay down beside her. She began to tremble again, out of a mixture of desire and bravado - she wanted whatever was pending but also felt she shouldn't want it. But the objections were more conventional than rooted in real belief. The result was that when we began kissing again she abandoned herself.

'Are you with me, Lucinda?' I said, briefly disengaging..

She pulled my head down to her breasts. 'Do it to me, Norma. Do it to me.'

I took a nipple between my lips and mumbled it, before taking it into my mouth and constantly sucking, squeezing, licking. Then I paid court to the other one and while one was in my mouth I plucked at and rolled the other with fingers and thumb. She began to emit a little 'hrrr, hrrr' sound in the back of her throat and her lower body jerked about, as if inviting some attention, too. After ten or fifteen minutes she whispered, 'Norma, if you touched me there it might happen. You know...'

I reached down and felt into the scrubland and into her vulva, which was pleasingly liquid. Slowly I glided my forefinger up and down the groove and homed in on her clitoris, which protruded agreeably from the north end of her squishy labia. At the first touch, she gasped, cried out in a mixture of wonder and alarm and shuddered into the possession of a whole-body orgasm.

As it ebbed, she said, 'I've never had it like before. My husband usually goes tit, clit, fit, as puts it. One, two, three. Three steps to...'

'Orgasm. But often you don't, and not like that one.'

'No. I didn't know you could it without the man inside you. And I'm so wet!'

'And it isn't disgusting, is it?'

'It just happens if you get really steamed up?'

'Actually, it's to make it easier to be entered.'

We lay together, my finger resting in her crease, my head on her bosom, till she said, 'Have you ever gone with a man?'

'Oh, yes,' I said, 'A couple of dozen, I guess, in forty years. I do know what it's like to have a man in my cunt and feel him come. But only men in whose eyes I can see the paramount desire to show me respect and give me pleasure. Who will take as long as it takes. Not one-two-three men.'

'So you're not just a lesbian.'

'I've had transwomen, too. Same principle.'

'You would have gone with my nipples if I hadn't said...'

'Of course. But there might have been a point at which I shifted the attention, if I thought that was the right way to go.'

She thought a while, then, 'What would have done?'

'Ill show you,' I said, slid down the bed and kissed my way over her stomach and sought the clitoris in the blasted heath. It formed a little ridge, its tiny glans visible, when erect, at the apex of a little triangle.

She was not expecting the touch of my tongue-tip and she flinched, but then said, 'Oh, I've read about this, but isn't it rather unhygienic?'

I stopped and said, 'Evidently no-one has done it before? As for hygiene, well, it's best not to do it when your period is on, but saliva is disinfectant, and I've never had any problems with, oh I don't know, a hundred women. '

'It's called cunnilingus, isn't it?'

'It often is, but that's not accurate, if we're being pedantic. Cunnilingus means tonguing the cunt, which I love to do, too, of course, and might do any minute. But what I was doing was clittilingus, if there is such a word. Would you like me to go on with it?'

'Yes, I would. It was a surprise but I can tell it feels lovely. But I've already done it once, haven't I'

'Most women can come several times. Some can go on all night. Even an old lady like me can often go three-four-five, more than one-two-three. You obviously need to experiment to find out how often you can come. Don't you ever make yourself come?'

'Sometimes, but I thought it was wrong, and I only...came...once when I did it.'

I applied my tongue again, and she responded quickly, as I expected. This was a woman who had been de-flowered, but needed to be be-flowered, to enter into her true orgasmhood. This time she knew what to expect and went for it, and as she did so I forced my hands under her bottom and squeezed those tensile cheeks, slipping fingers in the crack.

'Oh,' she said, 'That's lovely. Hold me, yes. Oh, it's coming again. Norma, Norma, Norma,' she called, clenching her buttocks and thrusting her pelvis upwards.

Again, we lay together, slippery with sweat, until she said, 'That was wonderful, and my tits all swelled up. I never noticed that happening before. Does it always happen?'

'Usually,' I said. 'It's one way you can tell if a woman has come. If they don't swell it's not so swell. Though not all of them do it. Mine do, still, like blowing up balloons.'

'Oh, I want to see that. I want to make you...come, too. How do I...?'

'Do what you feel like doing, dear Lucinda,' I said. 'Whatever you do I shall like it, because it's you doing it, because we're here together, exploring and enjoying each other.'

'All right,' she said, sitting up alongside me and bending to begin a long kiss, during which she began to stroke my breasts, gently tweaking my nipples. 'Oh, that's sweet,' she said, stopping for a minute. 'They're standing up for me. I've never done that before - well, you know that. Do you like it? I think you do. It was amazing when you did mine. They felt all tingly, and hot and cold all at once.'

'And there's a hotline straight through the libido to the pussybutton?'

'Yes.'

'But it's not in ones and noughts. It's in licks and sucks, and it may take a time to prime the orgasmic superhighway, which is why the lover must go on as long as it takes.'

'So,' she said, 'I should go on as long as it takes. All right,' and she set about my rigid nipples with commendable enthusiasm.

'In an old lady like me the path is pretty well worn,' I said, 'So the signal gets through pretty quickly. If you move a little I can speed it up by feeling your bottom. Nothing like some cheekery to stoke the cumboiler. Oh, yes, yours have such tension. Mine have gone soft with age. Some people like to talk when making love. I do like running cummentry. You're not used to speaking, I suspect. Anyway, if you venture south I'm about ready...