The Twelfth Of Never Ch 03 1

Emma's story continues. If you haven't already read Chapters 1 & 2, I suggest that you do so that you know the characters and what is happening with them. This is a longish love story but you'll have to wait for the sex. If you want a plotless quick thrill, then there are plenty of those elsewhere on this site.

Characters in sex scenes are eighteen years old or over

. All characters are imaginary—any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Several years ago I read a magazine article—titled

'My Big Fat Gay Wedding'

—by a woman journalist about her civil partnership ceremony. It was the memory of that article that in small part inspired a little bit of this chapter... It's unlikely that she'll read this story but if she does, thanks.

Copyright © 2014 to the author.

I came out of the dream, Sam's words still echoing in my head: "I love you, Emma, and you're not going to get away from me that easily." For a few moments after waking, I imagined that I could still feel her body pressed against my back until the dream completely faded. I half-sat up, glancing at the bedside clock. It showed a little after 1:30 in the morning. My feelings of guilt were still there, and knowing that I wouldn't sleep again immediately, I got up and wandered to the kitchen to get some water.

I could see the kitchen light on and I found Amy there, sitting at the table with a glass of juice and a plateful of chocolate chip cookies. "I'm sorry, Aunt Emma, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"That's okay, honeybunch, you didn't disturb me." I fetched my glass of water and sat beside Amy, picking up a cookie to nibble at. "But what are you doing here?"

"I had a really bad dream and it frightened me a lot, so I got up and went to Sophie's room but her door was locked." Amy rolled her eyes, as if bemused by the weird ways of elder sisters. "So then I felt peckish and here I am. Why are you up, Aunt Emma?"

"Oh, a dream woke me too, although mine wasn't really bad." We sat in companionable silence for a while, eating the cookies. Then out of the blue, Amy said: "Have you ever had a boy-friend, Aunt Emma?"

Now this was an odd question because Amy knew that I was gay but I replied. "I've had friends that are boys, but no boy-friends. Why do you ask?"

I think that Amy was laying the ground to confide in me. "

I've

got a boy-friend—" she pondered for a moment "—or I think I have. There's a boy in my class at school called Carl. I really like him and I think he likes me. We always have our lunch together and share our sandwiches. We went to the cinema last week and we held hands."

"That sounds as if he really does like you," I said, "So why don't you go back to bed again and perhaps your next dream will be about your cute Carl."

Amy hugged me. "Okay. You know, Aunt Emma, you're really super and I do love you."

"I love you, too, sweetie. Now, bed, before the Sandman comes to get you."

"Oh, Aunt Emma, I'm too old for fairy tales."

"Nobody's too old for fairy tales, and don't you forget it. Still, if you prefer it this way—" I put on a tone of mock ferocity, "—go to bed this instant or I'll thrash you within an inch of your life."

Giggling, Amy kissed my cheek and left. I stayed for a while, knowing sleep wouldn't come easily to me for my mind was filled with my betrayal of Sam.

I finally returned to bed and woke at about eight. There was a light tap at my door and Sophie came in, carrying a tray with a pot of tea, toast, and some fruit slices. She poured me a cup and then sat on the edge of the bed. Her face was radiant and I could see that she was busting to tell me something. First, though, she thanked me for looking after Amy in the night.

"No bother," I told her, "I think the chocolate chip cookies were more of a comfort than I was. She's okay this morning?"

"Yes, full of life and having fun in the pool as usual. Emma, Beth and I... well, we're in love. And from what Beth told me, we've got you to thank for finally admitting it to ourselves." Sophie took my hand in hers and kissed it. "But... Emma, what do we tell the family? Do we come out to them? After all, we're first cousins and that might not go down well."

I thought for a moment. "The family all accepted it okay when I came out and I was a couple of years younger than you two are now. On the other hand, I wasn't in a proper relationship. But I think both your parents will be as accepting as the family was to me. Can I suggest that you both come out if you wish to but keep your personal relationship quiet for a while, though? Wait until you're settled at university and then tell them. As for being first cousins, most churches accept cousins marrying now so that should be fine. When we get home, I'll give you the telephone number of a group that advises gay teenagers. They helped me quite a bit back then.

"In the meantime, every few weekends I'll invite you both to my place for a girly shopping spree and you can be together then. And sometimes I might go away and you can be flat-sitters for me—that'll give you the privacy you need."

Sophie gave me a joy-filled hug. "Thanks, Emma, you're the greatest."

I kissed her cheek. "Right. Now shoo, because the greatest wants to take a shower."

When I came outside, Sophie and Amy were splashing around in the pool. Beth came up to me and I got my second big hug of the morning. "Thanks, Emma, it went just the way you thought it might. But how did you know that Sophie felt the same way about me?"

"Just call it inspired guesswork," I lied.

"By the way," Beth grinned, "That virginity thing... It's no longer 'sort of '."

As Sam had told me when we arrived, the return ferry journey would again be at night. To pass the day, we made up a picnic and spent the morning down by the rock-pools. In the afternoon Amy begged for a last film and so I chose

Gigi

. When it finished, we all danced around singing 'The Night They Invented Champagne'. We were all packed and ready when Mrs Cudmore came to take us to the jetty.

"I'm going to miss this," said Sophie, "It's been lovely." She had written a very thoughtful letter of thanks to Alan LeStrange and had insisted that Beth and Amy did the same. I was proud of her for that.

At the ferry, I saw Sam standing at the top waiting to greet us. She looked beautiful, even in that awful uniform, and my heart just melted. We made our thanks and goodbyes to Mrs Cudmore and went up the gangway where I handed our tickets to Sam. "I hope you all enjoyed your holiday Miss... er..." Sam peered at the tickets as if to remind her of my name. "Ah yes, Miss Wainwright. You're in the same cabin as before."

As the girls went ahead with our bags, Sam whispered: "Same time, same place tonight."

"Top of the Empire State Building," I said and she nodded.

As on the outward journey, Beth dragged Amy off for a game of pool and then we all met in the restaurant where the Caesar salad had not improved. I don't like burgers myself, but I half-envied the girls who seemed to relish theirs. Later, Sophie came for a stroll round the deck with me while Beth and Amy went to their bunks. "You can go to bed if you want, Sophie," I told her, "I'm not tired and so I'll stay up for a while."

"It's that little steward, isn't it?" said Sophie, "She's your special somebody. You both might have thought that you disguised it, but the looks on your faces when you saw each other were a dead giveaway. As for that ploy about forgetting your name, she'll never get an Oscar for that performance. And I looked back and saw you whispering together. Anyway, on the outward trip I noticed that your bunk hadn't been slept in although I said nothing."

I didn't reply but may have nodded a little. I was already worrying about what I was going to say to Sam.

Sophie kissed my cheek. "Goodnight, Emma. I hope that she's as nice as she looks. You really deserve someone nice."

I went to the stern rail and waited. There was no moon tonight; it wouldn't rise for a couple of hours yet. But the sky was clear and there was a myriad of stars such as we rarely see on land because of light pollution. I thought that perhaps one day I'd like a place in the country where I could see skies like this often. And hopefully Sam would be there with me.

Then there was that whiff of light floral scent and a voice behind me saying: "Hi there, would you like some company?"

I turned. Sam was about two paces behind me, her arms open. I rushed to her for a hug, saying: "Sam, my lovely, lovely Sam." And then I burst into tears.

"Emma, darling, whatever's the matter?" Sam led me to a nearby bench, sat me down and folded me in her arms while I sobbed my heart out. In time my tears slowed and I was able to speak without choking too much. "Sam, I've fallen so much in love with you and yet I've been unfaithful already." I stammered out what had happened with Sophie. I knew that I was running the risk of losing Sam but I knew too that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and I couldn't live with a lie. The guilt I would carry would probably become destructive. Deep down, while I was confessing, I was silently praying.

I also told Sam about about Beth coming to see me and the subsequent change in the girls' relationship. Perhaps I had at least done some good there.

"Do you recall the last thing we agreed on?" Sam said, "We hadn't made any commitment. We'd have a week's respite as if we'd never met to see if we still felt love for each other. Well, I still feel the same way: do you?"

"Y-yes..."

"And I'm ready now to commit to you, Emma. Are you prepared to make the same commitment?"

"Yes, Sam," I said, "Now and for always."

"Good. So I'll be honest with you. I've been feeling so hot this past week that if some young girl had offered it to me, I'd have jumped her bones without thinking. As it is, I've diddled myself silly every night just thinking about you." Then Sam said something, almost echoing the words from my dream. "I've waited years to fall in love with someone like you, Emma, and you're not going to escape now I've got you. When I saw you coming on board last week, you looked so beautiful that I totally lost my heart—for ever."

Still feeling sorry for myself, I muttered: "But I'm not beautiful—you are but I'm not. I'm ordinary."

Sam grabbed my face with both hands. "Now you listen to me, Emma Wainwright," she said fiercely, "Stop putting yourself down. You're far from ordinary. You are beautiful and you have the most gorgeous brown eyes I've ever seen. So if I hear you denying it again, I'll kick your arse, despite the fact that you're yards taller than me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sam," I said, voice meek. And the funny thing was, that in that moment I suddenly felt beautiful, although I must have looked a wreck after all the tears. I also had a moment of self-realization. That as Sam had obviously forgiven me, I had to forgive myself and not risk ruining further what we now had together.

"Besides," Sam added, "what happened has helped to make two girls content and comfortable with their sexuality. Just think, they could still be torturing themselves, unsure and unhappy. Now though, thanks to you, they're certain of what they are and happy with each other.

"I love you, Emma Wainwright, and believe me, it's once and for all."

"And I love you, Sam..." I sought for some appropriate words and then remembered the old song that Dad used to sing to Hilary and me. "...until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you."

Then I remembered something. "I've got a surprise for you, Sam." I took her hand and pulled it under my dress until it met my smooth pubes.

"You've shaved. You did that for me, Emma?"

"Yes. And I love it—it's going to stay that way."

"Come on," said Sam, taking my hand and pulling me up from the bench, "Let's go to my cabin."

You might think that we went straight off to make love. But we didn't. Make love, that is. Well, not for an hour or so, anyway. Instead, we sat on Sam's bunk and we talked. Oh, we cuddled and held hands and exchanged frequent little kisses (I fulfilled my earlier ambition to kiss all the freckles on her nose), but mainly we talked, getting to know each other.

It was odd how many parallels there were in our lives. Like me, Sam had been aware of her sexuality from a fairly young age. She, too, had been seduced by an older teenage girl, in her case a girl who was babysitting Sam's younger brother. And like me, she hadn't needed much seducing. Apprehensive, she had come out to her family when she was seventeen and had been smothered with love and acceptance instead of rejection. We liked similar food and films and music and were both great fans of Dusty Springfield, not because she was gay but because we loved her singing. The only thing we disagreed on was our favourite song. I liked 'Going Back' most of all while Sam preferred 'The Look of Love'. Then Sam had a brainwave. "Let's have a new favourite Dusty song, just for ourselves. How about 'I Only Want To Be With You'?" In a sweet, husky voice, she sang the first couple of lines:

"I don't know what it is that makes me love you so,

I only know I never want to let you go..."

Tears prickled at my eyes. "Yes, our song," I whispered.

I suggested that Sam move into my flat when she started her new job but it turned out that she had already paid a deposit for a six months lease on a studio flat. If she backed out now, she stood to lose a hefty sum of money. So we agreed that during the working week, we would date like any new couple and that she would come and stay with me weekends. At the end of the six months, she would be free to move in with me.

In the latter stages of all this talk, our kisses were becoming more frequent and lingering, and then slowly our tongues came into play and our caresses were more demanding. Sam squirmed her way onto my lap and nuzzled my neck. One by one, I carefully undid the buttons on her uniform shirt. This time she wasn't wearing a bra and I bent to place a soft kiss on each of those marvellous nipples then buried my face between her breasts to inhale that wonderful sweet Sam smell. Then I moved her shirt aside slightly so that I could reach and lick the nearest of her lovely underarms.

Sam grabbed one of my hands and kissed and sucked each finger in turn. Going very slowly, it took her quite a while, during which time I could feel myself leaking heavily. When she had finished with my fingers, she kissed and licked her way up the palm of my hand, again taking her time, until she reached my wrist. She nipped a piece of skin in her teeth and then sucked hard. When she released me there was a perfect tiny love-bite right over my pulse. "There," said Sam, "I've put my mark on you, Emma Wainwright, and that means you're mine for ever."

"And that's not long enough, but I guess it'll have to do," I told her before stopping her mouth up with lips and tongue.

"God, Emma, I want to look at your fresh pussy now." Jumping off my lap, Sam shed her shirt and unzipped her uniform trousers which fell to the ground. She wasn't wearing any panties, either. I tugged off my dress and sat up, leaning back against the bulkhead with my legs splayed. Sam sat at the other end of the bunk and gazed longingly at my honeypot. "Wow," she breathed, "She is absolutely beautiful.." She reached out a forefinger and rubbed it gently between my lips so that it had a thick layer of juice which she then sucked off with a tiny moan.

Reaching down, Sam used the fingers of one hand to open her pussy lips and plunged two fingers of the other hand into herself, rubbing frantically. "Quickly, Emma, bring yourself off for me. I want to see your face when you come."

I followed suit and very soon the only sounds in the cabin were our moans and whimpers, our ragged panting, and lovely wet sounds from sopping and eager pussies. And all the time we gazed fervently into each other's eyes. We finished within seconds of one another and Sam snatched at my hand to suck off the juices, offering her own soaking fingers to my mouth. Then she fell into my arms and we kissed frenziedly, sucking and licking at our mouths and throats.

"Lie down now, Emma," Sam ordered, "I want to eat your pussy. I want to lick you out until I'm smothered in your come." Other than the gentle making out while we were talking, there had been very little in the way of foreplay between us but we were both so worked up that there was little need. We had the rest of our lives for that.

"Oh God, yes," I said, excited. "And I want to do it to you. Turn around so that we can do it together."

Sam turned and straddled my head so that we were in a perfect sixty-nine and fell to worshipping my pussy with mouth and tongue and fingers. Sam's sodden and dripping pussy was over my face and I pushed a finger into her tight, slippery hole. When I took it out, a thick strand of sticky liquid followed to form a bridge between my finger and Sam's vagina. I invaded again, this time with two fingers. When I withdrew and parted them, a second rope of pussy-juice adhered to them. I sucked at the nectar on my fingers with relish. I don't think, with all the sex I'd had in my life, that I had ever tasted anyone as sweet as Sam.

I plunged my nose and mouth and tongue into those wonderful folds to concentrate on giving Sam the same pleasure that she was giving me. I licked and kissed and fingered every little crevice, sucking at her inner lips and flicking at her clit with the tip of my tongue. And while I was doing all these things, I felt that I wanted to cry again but these would have been tears of sheer joy.

I wrapped my arms around Sam's lower back to pull her in closer while she held my thighs tight as her lapping grew more and more rapid. I could feel my hips jerking and heard Sam making little crying noises and then I think we did it again. If our orgasms weren't simultaneous, they were pretty damned close. Even after so short a period, our bodies seemed to be well in tune with each other. Sam turned, breathless and flushed, and we kissed so that our wet mouths almost stuck together as we sucked our come from each other's lips and tongue.

Satisfied for the moment, we rested. Because the bunk was narrow, Sam was lying more or less on top of me as we embraced closely. Her head was just a little below mine and I could smell the scent of her shampoo and the lovely flowery perfume she used and the overwhelming odour of unbridled girl sex.

I felt so many emotions running through me at that moment: lust, longing, happiness, but above all, love... pure love. And then it occurred to me that the slightest mini-orgasm with Sam would be preferable to a sky rockets and fireworks orgasm with anyone else. I guess that's what love does for you. There was one more thing left for me to do.

"Sam?"

"Mmmm?"

"I love you very much, Samantha Parry. Will you marry me?"

Sam sat up, eyes sparkling as she covered my face with big, sloppy kisses. "Oh God, yes, yes, yes! I thought you'd never ask. I love you so." Then abruptly her manner changed. There was a set look on her face and her voice was sober, almost grim. "There's one very important question to settle if we're going to marry."

I felt a jolt of sick apprehension. She was having second thoughts about forgiving me so easily. "What's that?" I whispered.

"The question is this..." but she couldn't maintain her solemnity and dissolved in a fit of giggles. "...which one of us has to sleep in the wet patch?"

"Oh, Sam!" I gave her bare arse a gentle, playful slap. Then, if at all possible, I held her even more closely and she sucked lazily on one of my nipples while quietly caressing those parts of my body she could reach.