The Fourth Bridesmaid Ch. 02

I took my clothes off and lay down on the bed. Vanessa lay beside me and we looked at each other for a time without moving. I could feel my erection rising, and Vanessa reached out a hand to touch it. I stopped her.

"Vanessa, I want you to lie quite still, and leave everything to me."

She smiled at me, and I gently pushed her onto her back. I sat up over her and began to kiss her face. She closed her eyes as I kissed her eyes, and then, one by one, her ears, pointing my tongue and wiggling it in each ear in turn. Then I nipped each earlobe with my teeth, not hard, but firmly. I rolled her over so that I could get at the back of her neck to nibble it and lick behind each ear. Then I returned her to her back, kissed her nose and applied myself to her full, pink-lipped mouth.

By now she was in a world of her own, Her eyes were closed tight, her face flushed pink, as was her neck and down to the upper slopes of her lovely, round, firm breasts. Her eyes were closed and she softly murmured unconnected fragments of speech.

I kissed, nibbled and but gently on the sides of her neck, discovering major erogenous zones that made her moan aloud. I had never had a more responsive partner, and I worked at keeping her on the upper slopes of Mount Orgasm for as long as possible without letting her get to the summit. This plan slipped as I suckled on her breasts, and she squealed like a piglet as her orgasm hit her. She reached down to her pubis, and I gently but firmly removed her hand. I spoke severely:

"Vanessa, I told you to lie still. Will you behave, or do I have to restrain you?"

"No, I'll keep still, I promise."

I turned her over onto her tummy, and began to caress her pink bottom. I could see the beginning of a little bruising over her haunch-bones, and I massaged them gently with the arnica cream. Then, my fingers still slick with the cream, I ran them down the crease of her buttocks. I drew the cheeks apart and stroked her little puckered pink starfish. Then I licked all the way down and around the anus itself. My stiff tongue started to probe. Vanessa started in shock and tried feebly to pull away. I slapped her bottom hard.

"Vanessa. Lie still."

"I'm sorry, but I never dreamed that you might do that. It was like an electric shock. It felt so lovely. "

She groaned aloud as I licked her little rosebud again. It was wet with her sweat and her nectar, and tasted salty and sweet, with just the slightest tinge of bitterness. Then I got between her legs and licked all the way down between her inner labia, and tasted the full rich flavour of her essential femininity.

Please Brian, may I turn over now?

"Yes, my sweet, turn over and spread yourself wide for me. You are my banquet and I'm going to feast on you."

"And then, will you teach me to feast on you?"

If that is what you want, my lovely."

She spread her self like a picnic on the green grass I buried my face in her womanhood, as she whimpered and tried to force herself closer. Finally, I moved from her inner thighs, slick with her natural lubrication, to the downy lips of her sex, and finally I unveiled her clitoris from its hood. By now she was in for an unstoppable climax.

I loved the way her perfume clung to her silky hair. I had never liked the practise of shaving the public area. Shaving left stubble that was unpleasantly rough, and what is worse it stole from the lover the storehouse of the unique scent of the loved one. I knew from the young Italian girls who had adopted the habit during the German occupation, that unless they shaved every day, the bristles chafed unbearably and led to inflammation.

By now she was intoxicated. I had one thing left to do before I was satisfied. I kissed down the soft, silky insides of her thighs, and her freshly shaved calves, down to her toes, and kissed and sucked each toe and licked the spaces between.

"Stop, please stop, it tickles." She threshed about and complained. When I did not stop immediately, she shouted, "Lobster!!"

We both collapsed in laughter. What a use for a safe word!

We lay for a while, her head on my shoulder and her arm and leg draped across my body. We kissed, but they were now gentle kisses.

She reached over and took my penis in a gentle hand. She stroked it and fondled it, rather timidly, as if she was not sure what would cause pain or discomfort. Half to herself, she said:

"It's beautiful. It must be about the same as dad's. Mum says a nice double handful is enough for any girl, and better than most of them will get."

She looked straight at me.

"A little while ago you were talking about enjoying my mouth. I have never done anything like that. Will you teach me what to do? I should love to give you some of the pleasure you have given me."

"What do you know about it? Have you heard the word gam or gamahuche?

"Yes, at work I heard a girl from Doncaster refer to gamming somebody. The other girls heard it and laughed. 'You mean you gave him a gobbler,' they said. A London girl said, where she came from they called it plating. It all means the same, putting the head of a man's cock (is it all right to say cock?) in your mouth and sucking on it until he comes. In my own mind I simply think of it as cock-sucking."

"Ok, so all it means is cock-sucking. And, by the same process, an ocean liner is a large waterproof metal box. Maybe that's what they mean by reductio ad absurdam."

She laughed delightedly, and picked up the game. She was laughing so hard that she could scarcely get it out for gasps and hiccups:

"Yes, I suppose you could say that all you did to me was a bit of slap and tickle."

My turn to laugh and laugh. After my stultifying childhood, I love a girl with a raucous, vulgar sense of humour, like my lovely auntie Irene. This girl was fun to be with. She had the "something special" besides beauty, and she had it in spades.

I did not know long I would have a portion of her life; a day, a week, a year, a lifetime? It was in the lap of the gods. But one thing I was sure of. For the rest of my life I would look back on this time as my Age of Gold.

"Vanessa, I want you to think about some of the things I did with you, and try to think how to do something similar to me. Men and women alike have erogenous zones all over our bodies, not just in our genitals. Experiment, and I will give you some hints..."

She started with kissing my face, working around towards my lips, then letting her mouth fall open, and teasing my mouth with her tongue. I could feel that this was already exciting her. The feeling of control and initiative she got from my passivity was stimulating her has it had stimulated me. She spent some time licking the patches of hair under my arms and breathing in my sweaty scent. I blessed the impulse that had led me to fit the sort of shower you find in pithead baths, and the impulse that led me to shower that morning.

"Do you like that?" I asked. I knew that it was one of my private pleasures.

"Yes, it's so heady like the bubbles in champagne. I feel giddy already and I haven't even got to your bullseye yet."

She suckled on my nipples and nipped them gently between her teeth, just as I had done to her. It had the desired result that my cock swelled even more and began to throb. If she went on this way, I might have the sort of hands-off ejaculation that brought the house down in the Paris Music Halls of the naughty nineties. I needed to cool myself down, if I was not to embarrass myself.

"Vanessa, please, I need a drink of water."

She rose straight to her feet and headed for the kitchen area totally naked and graceful as a gazelle. It was not my intention to send her off to do my bidding, and so I said to her as she returned.

"It was my pleasure," she responded. "I love to do things for you. It makes me feel like a Lady in Waiting at your court."

When she came back on the bed, as if responding to my unspoken plea, she knelt between my open thighs and focussed her efforts on my cock and balls, kissing them all over with tiny butterfly kisses, then licking my scrotum from perineum to the base of my cock, and up the shaft to the head. She gently, oh so gently, retracted my foreskin, freeing the glistening purple helmet head to expand to its full size.

Her tongue traced the rim of the mushroom all round, and, by instinct or by knowledge, I did not know, she lapped at the nexus of nerve-endings that faced towards her luscious lips. I knew she was teasing me from the way the corners of her mouth quirked up when I caught her eye.

I had held her on the brink of orgasm for twenty minutes before sending her into freefall, and she was getting her revenge. She may have no experience and precious little knowledge, but she certainly had an imagination of seemingly unlimited possibilities. I held my breath as her lips closed over the helmet and slid an inch or so down the shaft.

Now she was not teasing me any more; she was working her mouth up and down the shaft rhythmically. I remember in my mid-teens that when a girl took hold of my penis, some instinct told her how to work the foreskin up and down to produce an ejaculation. This seems to apply to Vanessa, the combination of all the cumulative excitement; her gentle sucking motion and the silken motion of her fluttering hands were hurrying me to a climax. And this girl thought she needed advice from me!

I cleared my throat.

"Vanessa, I am going to come. Please try to keep on sucking until I finish. What you do after that is up to you."

A few second later I began to shoot rope after rope of come into her mouth. She was swallowing as fast as she could, but a trickle of pearly grey semen oozed down her chin and dripped onto her breast. I counted six spasms as my spasming prostate gland pumped out seed, then a final trickle. I don't believe that I had come so hard in ten fairly busy years.

Vanessa looked at me proudly, and licked up the escaped come back into her mouth.

"Odd stuff, isn't it? The texture of raw egg, and a taste like salty, slightly bitter tapioca. I dare say I shall get used to it." She smiled, complacently.

My love, you were wonderful, I can't teach you a thing. Just follow your instincts and you'll be fine."

"Yes, but you have to give me bags of practice, so I can learn to really please you. Maybe you should give me a spanking if I don't get it just right."

"Would you like a drink, my duck? There's most of a bottle of Beefeater and a bottle of tonic, and some beer and ginger beer in the pantry."

"Ginger beer sounds lovely. You have a g and t. Shall I get it for you? A large one?"

I started to demur...

"Please let me do it for you."

"Ok. Yes a large one please. And have whatever you like."

We took our drinks back to the bed. I pulled the sheet over our cooling bodies, and we lay, peaceful and, for the moment, satiated.

"Now," I invited, "tell me about yourself."

"Your wish is my command," she grinned cheekily. "Well, I've told you a bit about Mum and Dad. Dad was flying out of Croydon when mum fell for me, but Mum comes from Market Harborough, and she wanted to have a home near Leicester. So when I was small, we spent some of the time at Dad's flat in Shirley, and the rest at our house in Barrow-on-Soar.

"Mum had inherited quite a lot of money when her Gran died, and they decided to send me to Cheltenham Ladies College. I got a scholarship there, and boarding school life really suited me. I got to know Araminta when I was her house prefect, and we found out that we lived only a few miles apart, so we travelled to and from school together, and became really good friends, although I was three years older.

"By the time I left school, it was the middle of the war, so I couldn't go to university. Dad was a transport pilot, ferrying planes to RAF and Coastal Command bases around the country. This let him live in the midlands, 'cause a lot of the planes were built between here and Coventry. Mum was working in her own dressmaking business and by the end of the war she had two people working from home to help her. Of course it was mainly alterations and repairs because cloth was so short, but networks are networks and the network of fliers meant hat there was always someone crossing the Atlantic, and they made sure that bolts of cloth fell into her lap every so often.

"During the war, dad got to know Whitney Straight and they became friends. After the war, dad was really at the end of his flying career, but Uncle Whit headhunted him as his personal trouble-shooter at BEA, and then took him to BOAC as a member of the management team. Now, in effect I work for dad. He manages all the routine inspection and servicing of aircraft all over the world.

"When I left school it was 1943, and dad helped me get a job at the Hawker factory at Langley. I was trained as a capstan lathe operator. By the time I got there the Hurricane was coming to the end of its career, and I worked on it for a couple of months, then I worked on the Typhoon for another couple of months.

"For the rest of the war, I was put into training department and I worked with the skilled toolmakers and the foremen to make sure the girls were well trained, and well treated. In the process I learned all about the Tempest and the Sea Fury. It was a wonderful experience, and I am so proud to have worked on the Hurry, the plane that really won the Battle of Britain.

"Anyway, for the last four years I have worked as my dad's trouble-shooter. When we get a sniff of something iffy I go and check it out. I have uncovered frauds, embezzlement and all kinds of skulduggery, and I have worked all over the world. A couple of days ago I was at Edinburgh checking out a rumour that defective parts were being refurbished and sold on. Luckily there was nothing in it on this occasion, but it happens time and time again."

"That's more then enough about me. Now, tell me about yourself, darling. The thing I really want to know is; do you go to bed with all your models?

"Are you kidding? I would as soon shag sheep. Most of them are as thick as two short planks, and you wouldn't believe how vain and self-obsessed they are. No, I sleep with very few of them."

"Yes, I can believe that. If you had said never, I would have thought you were lying." She kissed me on the cheek, and it soon turned into a full-bodied snog. Her hands found my rising erection, my finger found her clit.

Stay there a minute;" I said as I came to the surface for a moment. "I'll turn about and we can try soixante-neuf.

A moment later we were top-to-toe with my head buried between her slippery thighs, and my cock half-buried in her mouth. After a few minutes she raised her head.

"It's no good Brian. I can't do two things at once. Let me do you first, then you can do me."

This time her wish was my command. Her sucking was urgent this time, and several times she took my cock too deep and gagged on it. She was not at all dismayed. She drove on with total concentration until I filled her mouth with my seed. She swallowed it all this time, and her look of smug self-satisfaction made me laugh out loud.

"Oh my little love, you really do look like the cat that got the cream."

"Well, that's just what I am, and what lovely thick cream too. Did I do better that time?"

"I loved both times. The long, leisurely, Sunday morning in bed gobble, and the "Quick, got to finish before the bus comes," approach. They're both wonderful, if the pleasure is shared. Now it's your turn. Which would you like?"

"The bus shelter please. Make me scream."

A stiff tongue probing the entrance to the vagina, followed by teeth nibbling on her clitoris. One finger and thumb twisting an erect nipple, and a finger covered with her juices, sliding past her anal sphincter and into her rectum. She gasped out an orgasm a minute after I started, and screamed out another, huge one that drenched my face two minutes later. And still the bus hadn't come...

I noticed that it was just after six.

"Vanessa, are you expected at home at any time?"

"Mum and dad will be having dinner around eight, and they will make enough for me, but it's not a problem. I can just ring them and say I'll be late. May I borrow your phone for a minute?"

Sure, you go right ahead."

I could hear her voice, speaking its usual crystalline clarity from the hallway.

Mummy, I'm still in Leicester. You now you have always told me to wait, and it would happen. Well, it has. I've met the most wonderful man. He had me in the palm of his hand inside five minutes. His name's Brian Cazenove, and he is a photographer..."

"Yes, he did. Starkers. It's as if we have known each other all our lives. He just said 'drop your knickers' and they fell down all on their own."

The huge smile on her face was audible in every word she said. Her mother was obviously laughing just as hard at the other end."

"No need for them. Mum. He promised that he would respect my virginity for as long as I asked him to, and I really believe him. The question is, how long will I go on asking him to?"

"Yes, I'll ask him. Hold on a minute."

She called from the next room. "Brian, mum says would you like to bring me home and stay to dinner?"

"Yes, that'll be great. We could be there in an hour."

She said goodbye to her mum, and came and sat, naked as a needle, on the bed.

"I've got a bone to pick with you. You promised to make love to both my mouth and my bottom. You've done my mouth, twice, but all my poor bum has had in it is a finger. Now what have you got to say for yourself?"

"I did not promise to do it all today, did I? Tomorrow morning I shall develop and print all the pictures on the Leica. That's the black and whites of the bridesmaid's dress, and the nudes and the spanking shots. You promised to sit with me and look at them all. Tomorrow we can both keep our promises."

Her face brightened

That's great. Meanwhile I can ask mum about being buggered from a woman's point of view, and she can give me some good advice. I am sure you have had lots of girls that way, but I am willing to bet you have never had some bloke's willy up your jacksie."

"You would be dead right, and long may it stay so. Do you talk to your mum about absolutely everything? I am totally gobsmacked. As far as I know, my mum's still a virgin at fifty-five."

"Yes, she has never hid anything from me, and neither has my dad. My mum knows all about my daydreams. She knows that I have always made stories about powerful older men, punishing me and using me. She had always said that one day I would find a man of my own, who would make my insides melt. She always says, 'when it happens, go for it.' Don't worry about the future. Until she married dad, she went where her fancy took her, and she has never regretted a thing."

I told her that we did not have to go to Barrow on the bus or train, I had a motorbike, a Triumph 350m cc. Tiger 80, garaged just down the road, and a spare crash helmet for her. Her face lit up.

"This is a day of firsts for me. I've never been on a motorbike in my life, and I've always wanted to try it."

We climbed into our clothes and she restored the birds nest of her hair to a semblance of order. We walked a couple of hundred yards to a block of garages on a former bombed site that sat between the shops like the hap a missing tooth leaves in a tramp's smile. I pushed the bike out, we put on our helmets and I explained about sitting straight upright and not trying to steer the bike around the potholes. Her arms came around my waist, and her chin rested on my left shoulder. I kicked the engine into life and it roared its roar. The long stroke of the single cylinder engine settled into a rumble. I swung my leg over and Vanessa climbed on behind me.

In three minutes we were stopping a florist's on the Belgrave Road for a nice bunch of yellow rosebuds, then out towards Loughbrough. Ten minutes later we were in Quorn and turning right, over the humpbacked bridge, up Slash Lane and then left into Barrow.