Davina Does Scotland

Chapter Forty-Three

That very first time with Kat was amazing. She hadn't been joking when she said that she'd do ninety per cent of the giving. In fact, for the first four and a half hours, she achieved the perfect ratio of one hundred and did it non-stop.

Yes, I know I'm sounding nerdy again (four and a half hours! I might as well have translated it into two hundred and seventy minutes or sixteen thousand two hundred seconds!!). But please don't think that I was clock-watching in any way; let me explain.

*****

Propositioned by the sexiest, most beautiful woman I'd ever met, I decided to forget my night class for once. And we didn't hang around. After only a couple of drinks we went to Kat's and were in her bed a tad before seven in the evening. Perhaps inspired by my willingness, she then set out to prove exactly how eager she was to please. Easily slipping into my so-obliging Kiki Girl persona, I decided to just let her do her thing. If she got off on getting me off, who was I to complain?

Comparisons are, as you already know, a big no-no for me. Let's just say that Kat's pussy-eating was second to none. Lying back and taking it was no hardship, especially as she took care to suck, nibble, lick and chew bits of me I hadn't even realized I had.

Didn't she make me cum! My usually endless supply was starting to deplete when, sure that it had to be after midnight, I asked her if I could take my turn.

Well, maybe begged would be closer to the mark.

'It's your birthday,' she replied through half a mouthful of fanny. 'I'm doing the doings.'

'It has to be after midnight,' I gasped.

'It's half past eleven,' she countered. 'Shut up and enjoy.'

So there it was: my four hand a half hours, non-stop. And, as estimates go, it'll have been precise. As I subsequently discovered, Kat was one of those people who always knew what the time was, even if there wasn't a clock for miles around. I didn't know that then, of course, but even with her face buried deeply in my groin, distracting me from rational thought, I tended to believe she would be right.

Consequently I stayed on my back and waited until I reckoned another forty minutes (and five decent-sized cums) had passed. Then I tried again.

'It's after midnight. Please let me take my turn.'

'Not listening,' she replied.

'Come on, Kat. It's not my birthday anymore. And you can't go on like this forever.'

'Yes I can. And it's your birthday all night as far as I'm concerned, so there.'

Kiki Girl was not one for fighting her corner so I stayed as I was, enjoying as instructed and doing my best not to feel too guilty about my ongoing lack of effort.

Oh, okay then, I did moan a bit about birthday presents, insinuating it was better to give than receive.

Eventually, God knows when, Kat slid up my body. 'This is what you want, isn't it?' she said, pushing her right breast into my face. 'You're a tit-girl, aren't you? I can tell your sort from fifty paces.'

I didn't waste breath answering. Never one to miss an opportunity, I kissed and licked and sucked . . . and nibbled, gnawed and chewed too. And Kat's nipple astonished me. Already harder than hard, as I suckled and cajoled it got harder still. I could feel it swelling between my lips.

Cue instant orgasm . . . no, cue two mutual orgasms.

Kat swapped tits and I repeated my actions, mildly disappointed that her left nipple was already fully erect but not letting such trifles stop me. And, for an encore, it was a good one. Off again we finally went, just as mutually and, if anything, even more violently.

'Okay birthday girl,' she said, cruelly removing her chest out of range, 'I'm still doing all the doing, but now you get to pick your present. What haven't I done yet?'

'Toys,' my treacherous mouth replied, not giving my brain chance to consider.

Her chuckle quickly developed into a throaty laugh. 'Sorry,' she said, 'but I've been travelling. Toys are frowned upon where I've just been.'

I realized I hadn't had the decency to ask her about her travels and hadn't a clue where she had most recently visited. 'Oh,' said I. 'I didn't know.'

'It's sad but true,' she said. 'Not everywhere is as liberated as England . . . But, if my memory serves me, there might possibly be something in my knickers drawer.'

I watched as she got up and walked around the bed, only then appreciating the fact I was lying on her side of the mattress. That did, believe it or not, please me. Maybe I'd been submissive for too long, or maybe I was just happy to take any sort of small victory.

Kat's bedside cabinet was within my arm's reach. She clicked on her lamp and I was not in the least bit dazzled; the bulb must have been of the lowest wattage ever manufactured. Not that I complained. With it on I could see her ass quite clearly. And, when she bent and began to root about in the second drawer down, I could not resist pinching an inch or two of bun.

'Naughty,' she said, without otherwise objecting.

Encouraged, I pinched again.

'Ta-dah,' she cried, still not objecting and turning, waving something at me. 'I knew I hadn't thrown it away.'

I gaped. She was waving a double-ended dildo and it looked enormous. I had never seen one in real life before and, although it turned out to be eighteen inches and compressible, right then it looked to be more like five feet and as thick as my arm.

'Can you take it?' she wondered, putting a finger to her lips, as if she were the world's biggest tease.

I wasn't about to admit I wasn't sure. And, self-doubt aside, I sincerely wanted to get on opposite ends with her.

'Of course I can,' I said, 'bring it on!'

Chapter Forty-Four

My hopes of sharing weren't immediately fulfilled. At first Kat manually used one end on me, and used it well. To be honest, she used it as well as anyone ever had done anything on me manually. And you don't need bother asking if I came out with cries, screams and all sorts of verbal garbage . . . just take it for granted.

Then, when she'd reduced me to a quivering wreck, Kat instructed me to "assume the position".

'What position is that?' I asked rather naively.

In response she took hold of my legs and raised them until my feet were above my head.

'Grab behind your knees,' she commanded, 'and make sure to keep tight hold.' Then, chuckling, 'And don't you ever take off your glasses?'

'Only when I go down on a girl,' I countered. 'Assuming my lover wants me to take them off. And assuming she has the decency to let me go down.'

'Not listening,' Kat said again.

I guess I knew what was coming when I felt the dribble of lube running down the crack of my ass.

'I'm sure you've done this before,' Kat purred, circling my ring with her index finger before slipping it all the way in.

'Yes,' I purred, back. 'Oh yes, yes, yes.'

Without going into too much detail, she took me manually up the ass, first with her fingers and then with the dildo. As I couldn't really see what she was doing, what with my knees crushing my specs and what have you, I simply closed my eyes and basked in all the wonderful sensations.

'Yes, yes, yes,' I groaned at regular intervals. 'Yes, yes, yes.'

And then, just when I thought life couldn't get any better, something brushed along my slit. Now, call me a slut if you must, but I instantly knew it was the business end of another dildo. And, ten seconds later, I deduced it was the other half of the same double-ender.

Omigod, my head reeled, can it really bend like that?

The answer was yes. And I carried on repeating it until, bored with just stimulating my slit, Kat skilfully double penetrated me.

Trust me, I had never felt so deliciously full. Apologies to anyone out there who doesn't like any sort of penetration but, in spite of my gold star, I most definitely do. And that inaugural taste of a double dose was out of this world.

Initially, Kat set up a seesawing motion, only moving her toy an inch or so. First she'd see, and I'd feel one end slipping out of my ass while the other eased deeper into my vagina. Then she'd saw and the process would be reversed. And then . . . well, I guess you get the general idea.

After perhaps half an hour she swapped her vertical plane for a horizontal one. Oh joy! That was very reminiscent of the way she'd earlier rotated her toy inside me . . . reminiscent but even better.

And, as a curtain call, she switched to straight in and out, moving both ends of the dildo perhaps three or four inches that time, in and out of ass and pussy in tandem.

Joy, joy, joy!!

A mega-titanic orgasm was followed by a giga-titanic cum and, breaking completely new ground, a tera-titanic climax that as good as knocked me out.

*****

By the time I drifted down from cloud nine that wonderful weapon of fun had disappeared. I was still lying on my back (whore-like, naturally!) and Kat was lying beside me, her left hand cupping my pussy without actually doing anything. It felt nice and comforting so, drawing on my last reserves of strength, I reached out with my right hand and cupped hers.

'You can have your present next,' she said, smiling at me, 'after we've had a timeout.'

'Do you mean I get a go at last?'

'Yes.'

'With that . . . that toy?' I added hopefully.

Kat nodded. 'If that's what you want. But let's talk for a while. Get to know each other better.'

I laughed and told her that I had often been accused of doing my chatting up in the wrong order. She laughed too and said it must be a modern day thing, because she'd been accused of the same. Then, in the space of no time at all, she extracted a whole host of info about me: why I wasn't at university; my GCSE and A-level results; the courses I'd taken since leaving school . . .

'Tonight is the first time I've ever missed any sort of lesson in my life,' I assured her. 'And believe me, it's been worth it.'

'Your results are better than excellent,' she said, 'why aren't you programming?'

'I like being a techie and I've recently passed my driving test. They'll soon be letting me loose on the branches as well as Head Office. That's infinitely better than being stuck behind a desk.'

'I see,' Kat chuckled. 'You're planning to have a girl in every port.'

'I can always dream,' said I. Then, curious: 'Do you have girls in different ports all over the world?'

'Not exactly; I've had girls in a few different ports, but I'm not likely to see many of them again.'

Under interrogation, Kat told me she preferred to travel alone but sometimes briefly joined forces with other travellers or even organized groups.

'Some places just aren't safe for women on their own,' she said. 'And there are always boys and girls keen to share my tent.' Then, looking me in the eye, 'I'm always as safe as I can be, particularly on the rare occasions I fuck a man. And I'll definitely be asking you to use new condoms when you fuck me.'

I might possibly have frowned. Up until that moment I hadn't spared "safe sex" much thought, even though I had noticed Val always scrupulously switched to a fresh dildo after taking me up you-know-where.

More to the point, I'd never bought a condom in my life.

Kat immediately sussed my concerns. 'Look in my top drawer,' she said, 'you'll probably find a couple in there.'

I didn't have to get off the bed to open the drawer and perhaps it was a just as well I was lying down: it was crammed full of dozens and dozens of packs of condoms . . . and they were not just packs of ones or twos; they were in tens, twelves and even seventy-twos.

'Omigod,' I gasped. 'There are hundreds of them.'

'Told you I was safety conscious,' Kat chuckled.

Glancing down I saw the double-ender on the rug. It still had two condoms on it and another couple of used ones were discarded close by. While I'd had my head in the clouds Kat had clearly been looking out for both of us.

'Come on, birthday girl,' she said, throaty and seductive again. 'Don't keep the lady waiting forever.'

Chapter Forty-Five

I haven't digressed for a while and I've hardly mentioned Mikki at all, so here goes . . .

As you may or may not have noticed, my two fellow storytellers have given differing versions of the same story. Throughout hers, Mikki kept swearing to tell the whole truth, warts and all. I have to say that generally she did. I cannot easily point to any part of her tale and say it is false. But she did set off with certain preconceived ideas.

What I'm trying to convey is that Mikki saw Kat as the Wicked Witch of the West. She got it into her head that Kat was the worst sort of a user and more or less invented sins to attribute to her. In other words her version is heavily biased against her rival and her biased opinions are expressed as facts.

Not that Kat's version is full of sweetness and innocence. I've already hinted that Exaggeration is her middle name, and there was plenty of that in there. Kat did, however, stick closer to the truth (at least to the bits she wanted her readers to know). She had also had the advantage of having seen Mikki's account, which gave her chance to pick holes in some of those biased opinions.

Having said all that, Kat's story contains inaccuracies too. I'm grinning as I write this because she is under thirty even now, but perhaps it's an age thing . . .

There are two inaccuracies she came out with which spring immediately to mind: that I was still living with my parents when we first hooked up and that, within a week of hooking up, I had moved in with her. Wrong on both counts! I had been in my flat for almost a year by then and it was a fortnight until I moved in.

Yes, a whole fortnight!

Here's how it really happened.

*****

We didn't sleep one wink that first night and, although I had a fair go at her with that toy, Kat probably did do the promised ninety per cent of all the doing. Without any slumber there was no question of us waking up repentant; no, we kept at it right up to her alarm and "repentant" was never in the frame.

'That was great,' she said when she was finally, finally done, lying on my quivering body, staring down into my oh-so-grateful eyes.

'Happy birthday to me,' I agreed. 'But I want to be in charge next time.'

'You want a next time?'

'You bet I do. And don't keep me waiting.'

Before we shared a shower we agreed to do it all again that evening . . . at my place, with Kat being the compliant one and me free to use my strap-on of choice.

Night two went well, too, so we agreed to a further session back at hers.

'Let's make it a sixty-nine night,' she suggested. 'No toys and taking fair turns to go on top . . . if there is a top to go on. Some of the very best positions are virtually top-free.'

And on we went. While the sex was far from routine, we did fall into distinct patterns of behaviour: her place one night, mine the next; up at seven thirty to shower together; breakfast in the same café; the same walk to work; Kat working over or using the gym as I dashed off to night school; meeting up in The Woolly Sheep before starting the cycle over again.

(Ready to race to you!)

All too soon it was night fourteen. That made it Sunday and my place. Taking the by then habitual early morning timeout, we were on our backs, idly caressing each other's groin and talking about nothing in particular. Then my mouth did its automatic thing again.

'Two can live as cheaply as one,' it said.

Now I can't pretend I hadn't been thinking along those lines. My lease was almost up and I imminently had to decide whether to move or renew. But I certainly hadn't intended to blurt out anything as corny or needy as that.

I'm sure I heard a creaking sound as Kat turned her head to look at me.

'This time next year I'll be off on my travels,' she said.

'I know you will,' my mouth replied. 'And I'm not proposing marriage, just fifty weeks of living together and saving some money.' At that stage Logical Dave chipped in. 'We're practically living together as it is,' I/she said, 'paying for two beds and only using one. And here, look at this.'

I pulled an invitation card out of my wallet and gave it to my bedmate.

'Robin's silver wedding,' she said. Then, reading aloud: '"To Dave and Kat" . . . shouldn't that be Kat and Dave?'

'I think he's gone for alphabetical order,' I said, not really caring who got top billing. 'But it just goes to prove we're seen as an item.'

Kat laughed. We tried to keep up professional fronts at work but Skipton isn't New York. Of course we had been seen out and about by colleagues. And even if our working paths rarely crossed, whenever one of us went for a coffee we always brought back two cups; one each.

'Okay,' she said, 'let me guess your argument. We split the rent, split the rates and utility bills and we save . . .'

'Five or six hundred a month,' I finished for her. 'Over fifty weeks that's going to be six grand each; six grand in my house saving account, six on top of your travel budget.'

She chuckled and stroked my cheek. 'Do you really want to fuck me every night for another fifty weeks?'

'Yes.'

'And will you really be able to let go when it's time for me to be off?'

'Yes. I'm used to beautiful women drifting in and out of my life. And I don't do bust-ups; I always part as friends.'

(If that sounds incredibly mature of me you should remember I was only twenty. Fifty weeks seemed to be light years away. Alpha Centauri seemed much closer. And I was used to women drifting in and out of my life; I honestly did believe I was Teflon-coated.)

'In that case you'd better get into that harness of yours.' Kat grinned. 'I don't intend to seal the deal with only a kiss.'

*****

I've noticed that I have quite regularly said "Kat chuckled" or "Kat laughed". Both statements sum up that first year together. Even when we bickered we were usually chuckling or laughing. Sometimes we went so far as giggling like schoolgirls. They were happy days indeed.

And I didn't let myself fall in love. I was ever-conscious of my vow to let her go and determined never to waver. I succeeded in that too.

Or so I regularly told myself.

Sad to report, time didn't crawl by, it seemed to race. Before I knew it Kat's lease was almost up and I had to decide whether to take it over or move. Because I couldn't imagine living in her flat without her, I chose not to renew. Kat helped me find a better place, even closer to work, and helped me move in over the weekend before my twenty-first.

(Was that brilliant timing or what? Happy coming of age, Dave, I'll be off now. Nice knowing you.)

Moving didn't take long. Kat gave me her few bits of furniture, including the sturdy kitchen table we had so often made out on, and one trip in a rented van did the trick.

'I will be back,' she assured me as she stowed her work clothes and a few other odds and ends in the spare wardrobe.

I just nodded. We had agreed not to keep in touch while she was away, claiming it would be clingy and expensive. We had also agreed we were grown women and should be jealousy-free.

Omigod, it all felt so frigging final. But I wouldn't break my vow, no matter how much I wanted to beg her to stay.

(Here's a brief admission: Kat was pig-headed in wanting to travel but I was just as bad. She'd been planning her grand depart for months in advance, buying plane tickets, getting visas and so on, and at every stage she had asked me to go with her. All told she must have asked me a dozen times. But I was pig-headed about buying my first house.

Take a year off work and spend some of my savings!

As if I would!!

So I declined her offers and refused to plead with her.)

Even then, with me unpacking and her already packed, ready to leave on Tuesday, I couldn't find it in me to budge. So I listened to her and just nodded.

'I'll be safe,' she assured me. 'And I really will be back.