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 07 before this, to get the background.

***

I awoke to a room that was brimful of sunlight. The flimsy white curtains were powerless to resist it and "a million bright ambassadors of morning" were streaming in.

I picked up my phone. Hm, 08:12 am. I realised I was bloody hungry and immediately thought about breakfast.

Unlike with Enga and Maeve (who I would have dearly loved to keep in touch with) Tonya and I had already exchanged phone numbers, even though I didn't really expect to keep in touch with her after I left Rome. I think I'd just decided that, this time, it was something to prioritise, just in case.

Anyway it was useful. We hadn't arranged a time for breakfast so I sent her a message -- much less intrusive than knocking on her door -- 'Morning Tonya, sleep well? ;-)'

'Morning Becky, like the dead. You?'

'Same. :-) Breakfast?

'Sure. See you downstairs in half an hour.'

I got up, showered, dressed for some serious walking, in shorts and trainers, left it another few minutes then went downstairs to the ristorante. I was sat perusing the breakfast menu when she walked in.

She was dressed as she had been when I caught that first glimpse of her; white shorts and trainers, and the black top with a frill around the hem. The top was lovely actually, with a Y-shaped neckline, nice tucks to accentuate her bust, and some very attractive embroidered detailing. It made my boat-neck tee shirt seem quite plain. I also noticed that the baseball cap was absent and the quiff was back. Nice.

I stood, and we greeted each other with a very continental kiss on both cheeks. I teased her quiff with a finger and smiled, and I swear she blushed slightly.

Chat over breakfast was mostly about our plans beyond that day. I said I was heading to Naples, Pompei, and the Amalfi coast next '...but after that, who knows.'

'Must be fun on a motorbike,' she said.

'Yeh, mostly. As long as it doesn't rain.' I grimmaced.

'I'm going the opposite way to you. I flew into Palermo in Sicily, and I'm making my way north by buses and trains. I'm trying to stay in these rainbow places as many nights as I can. They're... interesting.' She smiled.

'How far are you going?' I asked.

'Well, I wanted to go all the way up to Scandinavia, but I think, with the limited time I have, I'll probably fly back from Amsterdam or somewhere.'

'Amsterdam? I was there just last week...' (was it really just last week?). I told her all about my time in Amsterdam, including Enga and the Two Lips, and she was fascinated.

She got out her phone and searched for a hotel on the rainbow site and there was one. I'd missed that because I'd only discovered Global Rainbow Hotels after I'd booked Amsterdam.

I gave her the address of the Two Lips, but I wasn't sure how she'd get in. 'You could try saying "Becky said I should ask for Vibeke," or say you want to see Enga. They'll let you in for one free visit before you have to join.'

'Hmm, interesting. Thanks, Becky. She grinned.

I thought to myself, wouldn't it be funny if she hooked up with Enga? I'd definitely like to be a fly on THAT wall.

We finished breakfast and set off on our sightseeing walk. Both wearing lots of sunscreen and our coolest shades. I noticed the baseball cap didn't reappear -- probably because she wanted to show off her quiff -- and I had to admit, she did look super-cool.

We visited the enormously impressive Colosseum, threw coins into the Trevi Fountain (which was much bigger than I'd imagined), walked up the Spanish Steps, and down again, then spent an hour in a cafe, having lunch and chatting.

She was an amazing chatterbox, and had a tendency to just come out with questions and revelations that were sometimes stunningly blunt and unfiltered. And of course she wanted to talk about sex.

'Did you enjoy being the domme last night?'

'I did. I got quite into it, actually.' I smiled, a little guiltily.

'You were good, once you got the hang of it... and you certainly have the physique for it. Honey, your body is spectacular.'

'There was that word again. I don't suppose it's a BAD thing to be called, so maybe I should just take it at face value, but it's hardly the language of love, is it?'

'Is that an important thing to you... as a sub, Tonya?'

'Well, yes. I mean, I've met some little waif-like things that were actually pretty good at playing domme, but they can't match someone with your physique. There aren't many of you around.'

'You said whips and chains were not your kink, so what is?'

'You should know that by now. It's oral. I'm addicted, I think. I can't get enough of it.' She grinned, like she was talking about chocolate or something, rather than eating pussy.

'Well, I've got into it myself, in a way I'd never have expected. There's something uber-sensual about it. I've always liked playing with myself, and looking at myself in a mirror - and tasting myself -- so I shouldn't be surprised that I like it, I guess, but doing it to another woman is just... otherworldly.'

She smiled and licked her lips. It could have been due to the delicious arancini we were eating, but I suspect she was dreaming of eating my pussy again.

'Which reminds me,' I said. 'I haven't had the pleasure of yours yet. It's a glaring omission.'

'Mm, well there's still time...' She gave me a coy look, and my pussy went ZINGGG.

We continued our tour, and visited more of Rome's iconic sights, like the Pantheon, St Peter's Square, and the simply astonishing Sistine Chapel, but we were not fully focussed.

Even these amazing and monumental works of art and architecture, couldn't overcome our growing sexual anticipation. My mind even began wandering to whether we could find enough privacy for me to have my evil way with her right here and now. Luckily, I controlled myself and realised that fucking her in the basement of the Sistine Chapel would just be WRONG.

We set off to walk back to the hotel, and I was surprised when she took my hand and smiled at me. I had a wonderful feeling of well-being and contentment. A realisation of how lucky I was to be in this situation, hand in hand, in the sunshine, in Rome. Even though I had no romantic aspirations towards Tonya, it was inevitably, very romantic.

Despite our growing sense of urgency, we did stop for a coffee on the way, and she suddenly hit me with a question that came straight out of left field; 'Have you ever had pee sex, Becky?'

'What?? Like golden showers and stuff? No.' I looked at her with a certain amount of alarm.

'Wouldn't you like to try it? It's surprisingly sensual.'

My mind was scrambling to decide what I thought of this subject. I was intrigued by the idea, but also a little repulsed by it. I thought for a minute.

'Have I shocked you, Becky?"

'Yes, a little... I'm up for trying new things, but I think that's going too far.'

'OK.' She smiled and shrugged.

I felt strangely compelled to ask her more about it though, and I did have a small confession to make. 'Actually, I do kind of understand the sexual appeal of it, to some extent. I have deliberately peed on my hand in the shower and then tasted it -- when I'm feeling REALLY horny.' She was nodding and smirking. 'I don't like the idea of going further that that though. Have you gone the whole way? I mean... showers and everything?'

'Oh yes. I once met a woman -- a much older woman -- and she was really into it. She would come to my place and drink litres of bottled water, just to make more piss. We had fun.'

'Bloody hell,' I was thinking. 'Too kinky for me.'

'I think I'll give it a miss if you don't mind...'

'OK. No problem, honey.'

We set off to walk the last bit back to the hotel, and I must have been quiet because I was thinking... She took my hand again and smiled at me again. There was a lot of reassurance in this woman. A lot of empathy. She was very comfortable in herself, even though she had this slightly weird need to be dominated.

I thought about eating her pussy, which I suppose is a submissive act in itself, which was probably why she hadn't sought it the previous night. It kind of made her the domme.

It was interesting that we both loved it though. I recalled having a conversation with my straight mates about it, before I'd "turned," and I they all thought the idea was icky -- like my reaction to the pee sex -- but I distinctly remember thinking 'I'd give it a try.'

We arrived at the hotel and made straight for the lift. As we were going up I said to her, mischievously, 'Have you shaved? You were a bit bristly last night.'

She initially acted affronted, exclaiming 'Cheek!' But then she gave me a rueful look and said, 'Actually, it's been a couple of days. You can do me, if you'd like?'

'Oo, OK then.' I quite liked the idea, actually. It promised to be quite intimate. A novel form of foreplay.

We were a little giggly as we let ourselves into her room. 'Let's just get naked,' she said. 'I usually take a shower before I shave, anyway.'

We undressed and went into the bathroom, and she turned on the hot water, while I sat on the toilet lid. She showered with the door open, so that I could watch her soaping herself. Wow. Gorgeous.

We could have showered together, but we weren't intending to have shower sex, which would have been inevitable, so we didn't.

It was great to watch her anyway. There was something very erotic about it. The way her hands swept over her curves and the way she twisted and turned to cover her whole body with soap... It was mesmerising.

She emerged and started towelling herself, while I nipped in for a quick rinse, and her eyes roamed over me as I gave her the same show. We were building up our arousal wonderfully.

As I was drying myself, she rummaged in the large rucksack that passed as her suitcase, and got out her shaving kit; a tube of Vanicream shave cream, and a very swanky multi-blade razor. Then, she spread a bath towel over the cistern and the toilet seat, sat down, and leaned back, spreading her legs to give me good access. I put a little warm water in the washbasin, to wet her skin with, then I knelt on a bath mat between her legs, and contemplated her pussy.

It was still only late afternoon, and the bright sun through the window showed up her nascent pubes as a coppery sheen on her mons and labia majora. It was actually quite beautiful, and it confirmed her as a natural redhead, but it had to go. I trailed my fingers over its slight bristliness, making her giggle slightly and pull a fruity, pouty face, then I picked up the Vanicream.

This shave cream was designed to be non-foamy, and I spread it evenly over the whole of her vulva with my fingers, like soft butter. She gave a sigh of pleasure.; 'Does that turn you on, Becky?'she said, gazing into my eyes.

'Mm, it does...' I murmured. Just show me someone who wouldn't be turned on by that.

I dipped the razor into the water and started stroking it gently down, from the top of her mons to the bottom of her soft, plump labia, repeating the stroke on the other side, then working into the middle, rinsing the razor after each stroke. Just half a dozen strokes were enough to remove most of the cream from her pussy and bikini line, and I used a hand towel to wipe away the rest.

I admired the result, and I slipped a cheeky finger between her lips to feel her slippery wetness. I wasn't the only one to be turned on by this. 'Yes, Becky,' she said, 'I AM wet.'

I sucked the cheeky finger. 'Mm, lovely.'

She groaned. 'Oh, girl, you make me so fucking hot.'

I grabbed a small mirror and showed her her newly-pristine pussy, like a hairdresser might show her the back of her head after a haircut. 'Mm mmm,' I said. 'Looks good enough to eat.'

'Well I guess you'd better eat it then,' she said, with a smirk.

'Get in the bedroom,' I said, pointing bossily. Although I was about to eat her pussy like a slave, I thought she might appreciate me keeping the domme thing going, as much as possible.

I picked up the seat cushion from the leather armchair, and threw it into the bed. 'Put your arse on there. I want you to offer up that pussy to me like a sacrifice. Get on your back.'

She lay down, with her bum on the cushion, thrusting her pussy upwards, and I knelt between her legs. I was right. That bald pussy really did look good enough to eat, and I bent my head to kiss it.

I gave her slit a lusty, lippy kiss, making a smoochy, sucky sound, and she whispered a trembly 'Ohhh, f-f-fuck,' as I sucked her inner lips into my mouth.

Her pussy smelled clean and slightly perfumed, even though the shave cream was supposedly unperfumed, but it was soon subsumed under her musk, as I dipped my fingers into her and spread her oozing juice all over her smooth immaculate vulva.

I ate her with a passion, savouring her taste, her smell, and the extraordinary feeling of her oh-so smooth flesh. It was an intoxicating serotonergic sensory assault, and I wallowed in it like a hippo in mud. Just trying to immerse myself as deeply in her as I could.

I drove my tongue as deeply into her as was humanly possible, wishing upon wish that I could reach her spot with it, but, alas that was impossible.

It didn't matter. My ravenous oral attentions soon had her yelping and jerking, and clutching at the covers with her nails. Her pussy was pouring out an astonishingly copious stream of juice, making the leather cushion shiny and slippery.

I moved my attentions to her clit, swirling my tongue round and round against it, slurping it, lapping it, and I slipped my fingers into her, which COULD reach her spot, and she surged to a hoarse, screeching climax, filling the palm of my hand with a delicious spurt of that salty, watery orgasm juice of hers which, of course, I didn't let go to waste.

I lay my face on her abdomen and I kissed her wonderfully smooth mons over and over again until she quieted, then I pulled out the slick, shiny cushion from under her, and crawled up to lay beside her.

'Ohh, Becky,' she breathed. 'Fucking hell girl... You, just... Fucking hell girl.

I smiled to myself. I love being able to bring this level of pleasure to someone, and women just seem more able to experience the pleasure. And to appreciate it. I think we are just BETTER at pleasure.

She turned and kissed me, then looked at me earnestly. 'Fuck me again Becky. Just one more time. I want to feel you on my face again.'

As you may recall, I'd had five Os the previous evening, so my orgasmic imperative was weak. I didn't have a burning need to come, but what we'd just done had certainly got my juices running again, and since she'd asked so nicely...

I moved the rug, and got her to lie on it between the bed and armchair, so that I could use them for support, and I stood astride her, facing her feet. Then I lowered myself slowly. It occurred to me that this was almost like what Carly had done to me on the webcam, but Carly on the webcam and me in the flesh were two very different things. Tonya was in for a treat.

My pussy lips may not be as long and fleshy as Carly's, but they do dangle a little in this position, and I could tell that Tonya was aching to feel them on her lips.

I stopped just short of her -- teasing -- and she gasped, 'Oh wow, Becky, you're dripping,' then I lowered myself a little more...

'Suck them.'

I didn't need to tell her really -- it was just a bit more domme -- and she sucked my lips into her mouth, eagerly, like she was starving for them. I could feel them tugging on my clit (which was exquisite) and I just stayed there a while, enjoying the feeling and letting her adore me.

The position was strenuous on my arms and legs though so, after a minute or two, I dropped to my knees and settled for a good old-fashioned queening. I was very wet, and I loved the slick feeling of my thighs against her cheeks and my bum cheeks squishing on her forehead. The quiff was getting another flattening.

Her tongue was feverish; it felt like she had two, lapping my clit and teasing my hole almost at the same time, and I was loving it, but my orgasm was a long time coming. She got plenty of time in pussy heaven before I resorted to a little finger-on-clit help and finally reached my own Shangri-la.

I went into primitive gratification mode, humping her face and forcing little piggy noises from her as I rocked back and forth, making her eat every juicy morsel of my orgasm -- and she loved every second of it. She told me so later.

I flopped forward to recover, kissing the insides of her thighs, and she just lay there, idly lapping at my pussy, as it dribbled its final ambrosial drips. She loved that too.

We tottered into the shower and spent a long, long time -- way longer than was necessary -- soaping each other and giggling. God, being a lesbian is so much FUN!

We emerged, pristine, and I returned to my room to get ready for dinner, leaving Tonya to restore her quiff, which she did, beautifully.

I put on a shapely blue dress -- the only dress I had with me -- and looked in the mirror. The dress was a little crumpled, from being rolled up in the tank bag, but it was a nice dress and it looked good on me, despite a few creases. 'Ah, they'll fall out,' I thought. I decided to go with it.

I did my usual ponytail, put on my sandals, and went and tapped on Tonya's door. There she was, in her green summer dress, with her quiff immaculate, and that cheekbone-enhancing blusher again. Quite stunning to be honest.

I was a little speechless, but she wasn't; 'Wow, look at you, Becky. That dress is killer,' then, very demurely, 'Would you have dinner with me?'

'Oh alright then...'

Over dinner in the hotel's ristorante, she told me she probably wouldn't see me in the morning. She said she was catching a very early train to Lido di Jesolo (next to Venice) and was skipping breakfast. I was slightly disappointed, but it didn't really make much difference whether we parted tonight or in the morning.

'Let's go for drinks at Bragazzi's, or as I call it, the Spanish knickers bar.'

She laughed. 'Yes, let's do that. Go out with a bang, eh?'

We walked up there and claimed the leather sofa again for what turned out to be a quite heavy drinking session. She was great company, even without the sex, and I was of course sad that we were parting, but we had different plans and different futures. I was just glad our paths had crossed.

'You know, Becky, you're nothing like I imagined an English girl would be.'

'No? What did you imagine?

'Well, I thought English girls were a bit prudish and straight-laced.'

I hooted with laughter. 'Not this one.'

'No, I sure found that out!'

'Well you asked for it.'

'I did, and I'm so glad I did. I've had encounters on this trip, and I'm sure I'll have more, but I can't see any of them living up to this one.' She took my hand. 'You're pretty special, Becky. I've loved being with you, and I've loved fucking you -- or being fucked by you, rather. It's a shame you don't live in Winnipeg. Girl, could we have some fun together.' She grinned and shook her head.

She was right. We certainly could. I looked at her and smiled and I started to speak. 'I wish...' but she pulled a sad face and touched my lips with her finger in a bittersweet 'Shh' gesture that almost brought a tear to my eye. We both knew it was over.

We stumbled back to the hotel and rode the lift to our floor. Outside my room, we embraced for long emotional moments without saying a word. Then we separated, but still held hands.

'Bye Becky.'

'Bye Tonya.'

Her fingers slipped through mine and she disappeared into her room.

***

The clunk of a door closing woke me early in the morning, and soft footsteps padded past my door to the lift. Tonya.