All the characters in this story are people you might know. Your mates, work colleagues or even a girl you've lusted after on the train. It is mostly true but highly embellished story based on female-female interaction ( well, the sex scene isn't is all I'm giving away! ). So if you are offended by 'that type of thing' look away - now!
And so it continues...
Take 1 - The Meeting
"Tummy in, shoulders back, head high and wiggle" I thought as I made my dramatic entry into the pub. My queenly entrance was wasted though, the almost empty pub held no audience for me. The old man by the fruit machines was more interested in ogling his pint, than my bosom. I had deliberately been fashionably late, but it seemed my date was even more fashionable. No redheads in black lace graced the tables. Disappointment formed a lump in my throat. Part of me insisted I had been stood up, but a tiny voice tried to present me a list of the usual excuses. "Maybe her car broke down, maybe some-one's ill..". My more cynical voices booed, the little voice slunk away in defeat. Too many broken dates were presented as evidence. Shit happens.
I bravely decided to get myself a drink and wait the customary half-hour, before slinking home in acute embarrassment. A pint of Heineken to drown my sorrows, I waited at the table with the best view of the door. The jukebox spat out a melancholy tune. I HATE country music. "Just shoot the singer and get it over with" I thought sourly. Yes, I am a vicious-minded bitch when I feel let down.
"Cheer up, it might never happen" came a lilting, welsh voice. I looked up and my gloom evaporated, like dew before her red, hot sun. I love redheads, especially when they come equipped with creamy skin and D-cups. She told me off for being late, having already sunk a pint waiting for me, then had to visit the ladies. I promptly apologised and offered to sink mine quickly, so we'd be even.
She looked exactly like her picture, a towering goddess in a black lace top that revealed a hint of her breasts and shoulders. I could faintly see her shiny black underwear shielding the rest of her body. Her leather trousers hugged her ass, as she slid into the chair opposite. If there's one thing I find satisfying, its ample flesh. And she satisfied me immensely. I could see her checking me out too. Unlike her, I wasn't brave enough to wear something even vaguely see-through. Instead I relied on a plunging neckline of my grey, wool top to reveal my 'pride and joy' as I call them. I teased her by leaning forward slightly. We had described our bodies in detail in our emails. She had admitted she couldn't wait to smother her face in my 46 DD's. I had replied she could go even further and lick melting vanilla ice cream off them. An image of her pink tongue chasing rivulets of milky ice-cream running off my brown tits made me squirm in my seat.