This Girl Roars

This story is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. Thus, all characters are fictitious. At the same time, they are all over 18...

Tip: Read Parts 01 through 05 before this, to get the background.

***

'Oohh...'

I surfaced slowly from a dreamland full of erotic images. Of Judy, of Kim, of Jola and Carly, and of Enga. Gorgeous.

The sun was lighting up the curtains brightly, and I felt wonderful. I yawned and stretched luxuriously, feeling the crisp clean sheets sliding over my naked breasts, and I thought about the previous night and the velvet headboard.

I smiled to myself and sighed happily, then adopted a star-like position, taking up the whole bed like I was about to make a snow-angel. I looked down and admired the hills and hollows of my body under the bedclothes, and I thought how lucky I was to have this body. To BE this woman. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves.

I brought my arms in and placed my hands on my inner thighs, then tensed the muscles, thinking about Enga's wonderfully toned legs. I ran my hands up to the tendons that defined the shape of my vulva, and I swept my thumbs through my trim little forest. My fingers probed the plumpness of my outer lips, and I teased them apart, exposing my clit and my inner lips. I deliberately flexed my hips to rub my pussy lightly against the sheet.

I let out a long exhalation, then breathed in deeply as my arousal rose, and I marvelled at how easy I found it to turn myself on. My fingers dipped into my entrance and found it wonderfully hot and wet, and I pushed them deeper, stretching my hole, and bathing them in my well of honey.

My eyes closed, and I writhed ever so slightly. My nipples were now visible through the double sheet, and I felt so fucking good as I lay there, just wallowing in my libido. I brought both hands up to my face, and licked and sucked my juice from my fingers, lewdly and lasciviously, then I pushed the covers down, exposing my nakedness... Then I stopped. Suddenly.

NO! I would not spend all morning wanking, deliciously tempting though it was. There'd be time for that later. I made myself get up and I went into the shower, rinsing myself off and carefully avoiding any shower-related arousal, then I dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, with my Triumph undies underneath and went down to breakfast. I was actually ravenous.

I stuffed my face with allsorts of French, Dutch, and Danish pastries, and drank a lot of excellent, more-ish coffee, then returned to my room to look at websites about European motorbike touring, and watch some YouTube videos.

I was looking for inspiration as to where to go when I left Amsterdam the next day, and there were definitely plenty of ideas to mull over. The Alps were tempting -- I watched some stuff by a couple who were riding there on Yamaha Ténérés, like Judy's, and the scenery was amazing. I also quite fancied Spain, though that was a bloody long way away.

After a couple of hours, I decided to go out for a walk, maybe take a boat trip, and think about it. I also needed to decide what I was going to do that evening.

Returning to the Two Lips was a definite temptation, and I could see how it could get addictive. In fact, I suspected that was what had happened to Enga. I wasn't sure I wanted to join though. The membership was probably expensive, and I'd only be going once more, after all.

So, I set off on foot in my almost flat sandals, and headed for the main area of canal basins. I bought a hop on-hop off ticket and enjoyed a tour in an open boat, around to the north side of town, where I hopped off in search of some lunch.

I was looking for a place called Lava, which came highly recommended and I was just walking along the street, minding my own business, when I heard a bicycle bell. I quickly made sure I wasn't encroaching on a bike path, but no, I was definitely on the footpath. The bicycle bell sounded again and I looked around to see Enga on a bike, bearing down on me. She rode right up to me as if to run me down, then slammed her brakes on with a grin.

'Hello, stranger,' she beamed, 'what brings you out to this far-flung district?'

'Stranger, yeh right. You know you only saw me about 12 hours ago...'

'Seems an age ago.'

I smiled. 'I'm looking for a place called Lava for lunch.'

'Oh, I know that place. Can I join you?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Great, come on.' She got off her bike and started wheeling it beside me, and I followed along.

I was a bit thrown by this encounter, because I hadn't REALLY expected to see her again, and I wouldn't have expected her to make a point of greeting me on the street with such geniality, like we were old friends. It was an unexpected surprise, and it confused me.

Still, her company wasn't unwelcome, so I decided to just go with it and see what happened.

As Jola had said, like most people in Amsterdam, Enga wasn't dressed for cycling (she just had jeans, a summery top and trainers) and the bike, at first glance, looked like an old-fashioned "sit up and beg" style thing, but I observed that it was actually very modern, with all the latest equipment, like disc brakes, and a multi-geared hub.

Do you cycle a lot, Enga? I asked as we ambled along.

'Yes, I cycle EVERYWHERE... or walk.' She grinned. I guessed that went some way towards explaining those wonderfully toned legs of hers. 'Do you cycle, Becky?'

'No... well... no.' She looked askance at me. 'I have a motorbike.'

'Really?' She looked at me with a look of surprise. 'A moped, or...?

'No, it's 900cc'

'WOW,' she said slowly, in much the same way as she did when she first saw my tits. 'What... I mean... how...?'

'It's a long story. I'll tell you over lunch.'

We had arrived. My table for one was easily adjusted to a table for two, and we were seated in a great place overlooking the big basin with lots of boats coming and going. Not that we noticed much.

I began telling her my story... 'Oh my, are you famous?' she asked.

'Only a little '

She was only vaguely aware of FUJ, and hadn't really heard of Moff, and I took this as a very big positive.

'I was also married,' she said, 'but just for one year. I realised my life was boring, and I freaked. Completely. I ran away. Had a bit of a breakdown if I'm honest, and it was a woman -- a friend from school -- who calmed me and brought me back to life. I stayed with her for six months and it was wonderful. She made me realise what I had been missing.'

'But you're not with her now...?'

'No. I wanted to explore. To learn more about this side of me. She understood completely... We are still friends.

We ordered exotic salads, hers with radishes and dill, and mine with grilled feta and pine nuts, and I continued with my tale.

She was enthralled by the idea of me on a motorbike; 'Do you wear leathers and everything?'

'Well, I had a leather jacket, but now I wear a touring suit. It's not very attractive, but much more practical.'

'Tell me, does riding the 'bike turn you on?' she asked, giving me a coquettish look.

'What, sexually? No, silly. Why would it?'

'Oh, I don't know... straddling a snarling beast... making it do your bidding... the power... the vibrations...'

'You've got problems, you know that?'

We laughed. 'Mind you...the vibrations...' I told her about using Candy as a sex toy, and she growled, deep down in her chest. I think she liked the idea.

'Can I try your salad?' she asked, and I nodded and offered her my fork.

'No, you feed it to me.'

I stabbed a cube of feta, and offered it to her, and she took it off the fork in a way that was inescapably sexual, using her tongue, lips and teeth in a marvellously provocative way, and moaned 'Mmm, gorgeous.' Then she took her fork and offered me a radish, coated in creamy dill sauce, and I tried to match her lascivious capture.

'This is fun,' she beamed, and we repeated the process a few more times, unaware that we were giving nearby observers a bit of a show.

I have to admit, Enga fascinated me. She was so audacious, so exuberant, so inspiriting, and so damn sexy. And everything was sexual to her. From eating, to riding a motorbike, everything had an erotic potential. I loved that about her.

Eventually, she asked me the big question; 'Are you going back to the club?'

I answered honestly. 'I don't know Enga. I'm leaving tomorrow, so it would have to be tonight, if I do.'

She looked pensive. 'If you did go back, and I was there...' she looked into my eyes, 'would you choose me a second time?'

'Absolutely I would. One hundred percent.' We smiled at each other.

'I've enjoyed your company,' she said, 'and I'd love to have more of it. I will be there tonight, and if you come, you come. I won't chase after you, Becky...if you're not there...'

I understood. The ball was in my court. It was up to me whether I returned it or not.

We parted on the pavement outside the restaurant, with a tight hug and a kiss. A kiss that was more affectionate than sexual. She climbed on her bicycle and made a noise like she was revving up a motorbike, then she sped off, grinning, down the street. We hadn't even exchanged phone numbers.

I walked back to the quayside and hopped on a boat that would take me closer to the hotel, and I sat gazing at the attractive canal-side houses as we glided along. My attention was elsewhere though, thinking about Enga.

We had made an immediate connection. Struck an instant rapport. In less than a day, I had feelings developing for her, and I could tell she felt the same. The fact that she asked would I choose her again, and the fact that she had announced she would be there that night, told me all I needed to know. But would I return to the Two Lips? Would my two lips return to meet Enga's?

The feelings were real, and the foggy notion of being with her had a strong appeal. I knew a second liaison with her would only strengthen my feelings for her, and perhaps hers for me, but it was a notion that couldn't survive the harsh glare of reality. How could it? We couldn't really be together unless I moved to Amsterdam -- the mere fact that I was even contemplating that possibility showed how strong my attraction to her was - but there were just too many questions.

By the time I got back to the hotel, my mind was made up. I wouldn't go back to the Two Lips, and I'd never see Enga again. It had been great, and she had been great, but it was best left as it was. A few magical moments frozen in time.

I lay on the bed again, and shed a few tears. These feelings were powerful, and the making, then breaking, of connections was powerful. And I'm just a fragile, emotional thing sometimes.

Was I unwise to subject myself to this turmoil, when I'm about as far from a cold fish as you can get? Maybe, but I still felt the need to pursue these connections. To explore these feelings, search my inner self, and see what I found. It had already been illuminating.

I called Jola, and told her Amsterdam was wonderful, and said I could definitely live here, and she said that she and Carly had a long-term plan to do just that but, as I'd surmised, it was jobs that got in the way, both of them having established UK-based careers. It's amazing, and a little depressing, how our need to make a living ties us, and I reminded myself how lucky I was to not have that tie -- at that moment.

I did a bit of editing of video for my YouTube channel, then went down to the bar for a drink. 9pm came and went and I thought about Enga. Would she be forlorn at the club when I didn't turn up? Or would she just move on to her next conquest and her thirst for "the thrill of the new?" I guess I'll never know.

***

I smiled when I went down to the underground car park next morning and saw Storm for the first time in two days. I realised I had missed her.

I'd been up early, and had breakfast, and now I rode Storm up onto the street and parked her outside the hotel so I could transfer all my stuff from my room back into the luggage. By 9:30am, my key was back on the desk and we hit the road.

I had made the decision on where I was going. I'd booked a hotel in Annecy, in the French Alps, in two days - it was 1000km from Amsterdam, so I wasn't going attempt to do that in one go. I booked a halfway stop in Metz, on the Moselle, for that night. Still a fair haul of almost 500km (300 miles). Best get a move on.

I threaded Storm out of the city, and got onto the "snelweg" -- literally "fast road," or motorway in English, then I crouched slightly, nestling my boobs onto the tank bag, and settled in for a few hours of "fast."

The rider can take a real battering at high speed on a motorbike, so I was glad of Storm's small windscreen for a bit of protection. I dropped my helmet behind it and whizzed along enjoying Storm's effortless power. 100 horses, all mine.

The motorways in northern Holland were a nightmare of traffic, but once I was south of Eindhoven, things thinned out and we began to munch the miles. A couple of stops were needed to rest, refuel (both Storm and me) and to have a pee, but by 4pm, we were rolling into Metz in search of my hotel.

I'd chosen the Hotel Cathédral, partly because of its location, by the river, and, as its name suggests, close to the cathedral, and partly because it was in a grand old building. A place with real character. I didn't want to stay in one of those super-cheap but soulless chain hotels.

This hotel was comfortable as well as characterful and I was shown to my room by a girl who spoke English with a lovely French accent, addressing me as "Mademoiselle Besom" with a delightful emphasis on the final 'om.' I learned her name was Claire.

'Thank you, Claire, this is very nice,' I said.

'You need any 'elp with anything, you call me, OK?' She walked off down the corridor, hips swaying and making the hem of her skirt swish hypnotically.

I explored the shower, washing off the grime of the road and making a mental note that it was suitably powerful to have some fun with -- maybe later - then I dressed in jeans and vest (with bra this time) and went out to eat.

The cathedral was amazing; "imposing" doesn't cover it - it was almost intimidating -- and it apparently has more stained glass than any cathedral in the world. I passed by it shaking my head in disbelief, and headed for the riverside, where I found a brilliant little place called "Bistrot Bise" (Kiss Bistro) which was wonderful. I had a cassoulet that was almost transcendent -- or perhaps I was just bloody starving -- and headed back to my room feeling very content and satisfied.

I was also quite horny... I knew Carly would be back home now so I decided to call Jola and get some face (and hopefully pussy) time with the two of them. I clipped my hi-def webcam onto the top of the laptop screen, because it's so much better than the built-in one, took off my jeans, and sat at the dressing table to call them, taking the very wise precaution of sitting on a towel...

Jola's ever-smiling face appeared on the screen. 'Hey girl! How you doing?'

'I'm good. On my way to the Alps now...'

She called Carly over and we talked about Amsterdam. She went bit misty-eyed when she talked about it -- she obviously loves the place - and she had memories of all the places I went, apart from the Two Lips, which she'd never heard of. I skimmed the story of Enga, though I didn't hide the fact that we'd had sex.

'Wow, what an adventure. That club sounds wild. I wish it had been there when I was in Mokum.'

'I don't,' Jola interjected, 'We might never have met..'

'That's true,' Carly turned to her and they kissed.

'Hey, what's this? some kind of lesbian webcam show?' I was only joshing, but it was also a hint.

They laughed. 'No, but if that's what you want...' Excellent. That was exactly what I wanted.

'Well, I am lonely and horny in a hotel room at the moment.'

They kissed again, this time more passionately, and I remembered that first kiss between them that I'd watched in their bedroom. Just like that night, I felt my body respond.

'God, you two are so hot together...'

They started undressing each other, and I joined them. Soon, all three of us were naked. 'Oo, she's got them out again Carly,' said Jola.

'What, these?' I said, holding my boobs up in front of the camera. I bent my head and just trailed my face back and forth across them, glorying in their soft fullness, and the feel of my erect nipples, which I couldn't resist sucking.

'Oh, God, you look so hot doing that, Becky,' said Carly. 'If I had tits like yours I'd be sucking them every day.'

'Who says I don't?' I said releasing the nipple, which had become even more prominent... 'Well, maybe not EVERY day...'

Jola put her hand on Carly's head and guided her... "Here, suck these instead.'

There is something about the contrast between those two; The dark, satiny swell of Jola's breast, and her almost black nipple, bring teased, licked and sucked by Carly's pale, pink rosebud mouth. Just heavenly.

I continued to suck on my own nipple as I watched them, and it was definitely a good job I had the towel under me because I was juicing up wonderfully.

There was a momentary disruption on the screen, as they moved the camera to a new position, which seemed to be on the bed, then Carly's face reappeared, upside down, as she lay back in front of it. She smiled and looked at the lens -- looked at me -- and said 'Here's a treat for you...' Jola's lithe brown thighs appeared as she straddled Carly's face, then her pussy as she sat back on her chest.

She shuffled forward to bring her plump lips up to Carly's face, and Carly's pale fingers with their red-painted nails came round and parted her labia, revealing that shockingly pink flesh within. Carly was right, this was a treat. I was treated to the wonderful sight of her performing lust-laden cunnilingus on Jola, taking her all the way to orgasm with her tongue. Gorgeous glistening wet oral sex.

I was transfixed. Pumping my fingers in and out of myself as I watched, until my own orgasm overwhelmed me and I came, dribbling juicily into the folded towel.

'Oh, God, that was so hot. You two are just beautiful together.'

There was more movement as they swapped places and I got a second treat, as Carly queened Jola, fucking her face and squishing those super fleshy lips all over her features and coating her dark skin with a whitish sheen of her pussy cream.

God this was so bloody horny. I came a second time, as I wanked myself silly watching my friends fucking. A situation that would have been unimaginable just a few short weeks before. I loved this new sexuality. Loved its eroticism, and its intensity. I was having orgasms like none I'd ever experienced before. Fiery, pelvis-melting orgasms, dripping with lust. Fantastic.

My treats for this evening were not over though. Carly had remembered that I'd loved the idea of the virtual face sitting, and now she reminded me of it.

'Are you still horny, Becky?'

'Mm mm, I murmured.

'Want me to face sit you?'

Just those words sent a jolt to my pussy. 'Oh, wow yes.'

'OK. Lie on the bed and put your laptop on your chest, so the screen is close to your face.' I did so. My fingers were already busy in my pussy again. Just the anticipation was enough...

'Just let me get this camera in the right place. Needs a pillow under it...'

The view moved around a bit, then it was looking straight up at the ceiling. Suddenly, she was standing over me. It was almost real. I could imagine her really doing this to me. She began to squat, then the image suddenly went blurred. There was some giggling from them, then the screen cleared as Jola wiped the lens with a tissue. 'Oops, I dripped on the camera,' Carly chuckled, then she resumed her position.

The lighting suddenly got brighter (I assume Jola had moved a lamp or something) and there was Carly's pussy in all its glory, closing in on me with those fleshy wet lips, dangling succulently. Closer... closer... closer... until it filled the whole screen. I swallowed. I was salivating like crazy. My fingers went faster.