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This story takes place straight after “My Boy Nigel” The next day was warm, so I put on a dress and a pair of strappy Roman sandals, and took a stroll down into town. An hour of window-shopping left me hot and thirsty, so I walked down to the seafront and found myself an ice cream. I sat on a bench and looked out across the beach and the sea. A few minutes later, as I was catching a dribble of melted ice cream with my tongue, a woman sat down on the bench: “There’s no one sitting here is there?” “Not at all. I’m by myself today.” “Lovely,” she continued, “I could do with a sit down.” I glanced over at her; she was twenty years my senior, I reckoned, but in really great shape. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a white sleeveless roll-neck top that showed off her shape to good effect. I couldn’t see her eyes behind her big tortoiseshell sunglasses. “It is very hot, isn’t it?” I offered. “Certainly is.” she replied. “I’ve been shopping all morning.” There was a pause. “Retail therapy.” “Pardon?” “Retail therapy.” she smiled. “You know—cheaper than therapy. Especially when I use my husband’s credit card.” “Oh.” The penny dropped. “Sorry—just not heard the term before.” “Well, I have been doing it for years—only just learned the word for it recently. And when I need the therapy because of my husband, it is ironic that I spend his money to make myself feel better.” I gave a chuckle. “I hope he hasn’t done anything too horrendous.” “Well… Not really I suppose. He just came home late last night, and went straight to bed. I normally get some on a Friday, but the poor lamb was too tired.” “Oh I see.” I replied. “So feeling a little… frustrated?” “No shit! Haven’t had any cock in over a week.” I gave a little guffaw; a little shocked at this revelation. She chucked at my reaction. “Mmm. I’ve always been a straight talker. Got me into trouble often enough. Don’t take offense.” I recovered my composure. “No problem. Just slightly… unexpected.” “Oh good.” She leant over and offered me her hand, “By the way, I’m Jennifer. Call me Jen.” I shook her hand, “Nice to meet you, and I’m Nicki.” “Nicki.” She repeated, with a nod. I had been neglecting my ice cream and felt a trickle of vanilla on my fingers. I caught it with my tongue and licked around the base of the cone to try to get ahead of the game. “An expert, I see.” Said istanbul travesti Jennifer. I smiled and took another lick. “Just trying to stay on top of it before the whole thing melts.” I liked Jen. She was straight-forward and relaxed; she had a good sense of herself. Someone I immediately felt comfortable with; I was sure she made friends easily. “It does look good.” “Tastes good too.” I held it out, “Want a lick?” Jen took the cone from me, opened her mouth and put what remained of the ice cream in her mouth, sucking it in. When the cone came out, there was still a bit of ice cream, but only a bit. She handed it back. “Oops. I took a little more than I thought. Sorry.” She licked her lips, “It was good—thank you.” “You’re welcome.” I loved the sensual way she had slowly licked her lips. Something in the pit of my stomach was all a flutter. But, I had changed over the past couple of months. Before Nigel, before Auntie Mary, or my other adventures I would probably have run a mile. Now, I could take that feeling in my stride; I could wonder what might come of it, what might come of this conversation. I could think about what I wanted, and where I wanted this conversation to go. “So,” I said, “What are you going to do?” “Do about what?” asked Jen. “Cock.” It was her turn to start in surprise, my turn to smile. “Oh. Oh that. I don’t know. It isn’t that long ‘til next Friday.” “It’s another week…” I pointed out. “True.” “And who is to say what your husband will do next Friday.” She rolled her eyes. “Too true.” she looked at me and frowned a little. “Are you suggesting something?” I grinned. “I don’t really know. Just… maybe that you don’t want to rely completely on your husband.” Jen started, then leant closer to me, “You’re… you’re not a tranny are you?” It was my turn to laugh, “No, no. I am 100% woman. No one’s ever asked me that before, either.” “Sorry. No offense meant.” “None taken.” I paused. “But I do wonder whether you need a man to be satisfied.” “You’re a lesbian?” “Heh. No. In fact I’ve never been with a woman. But I wouldn’t be averse to trying.” “Wow.” Said Jen, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just propositioned me.” I smiled broadly at her, “I did.” There was silence between us. The world rushed around us: waves crashing on the beach; families ushering their children passed; dogs istanbul travestileri taking their people out for walks along the promenade, and silence hanging in the air between us. I popped the last of my ice cream cone into my mouth, and finished it off. I stood up, swallowed and said just one word: “Come.” Jen stood up and followed me; then, walking side by side, we went back up through town and to my flat. The silence between us an oasis of calm as the sunny afternoon bustle continued all around. I opened the door to my flat and let Jen in before me; she walked through to the living room, put down her shopping bags and handbag. She turned to face me. “This is nice.” she said, as she took off her sunglasses. I stood close, seeing her eyes for the first time: a penetrating grey. I put my finger to my lips, then leaned forwards and kissed her. The first time I had ever kissed another woman; so soft, so sweet. I put my hands on her hips and kissed her again, my tongue flicking at her lips until her mouth opened. My tongue found hers and our mouths opened, kissing properly now. My hands moved to the small of her back and I pulled her towards me, feeling the swell of her breasts against mine. One hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head, holding her mouth against mine, her hair entwined in my fingers, my tongue feasting on her mouth. Finally, I released her, let her catch her breath, “Oh… my God.” She whispered. I smiled. “I don’t think you’re going to need to wait ‘til next Friday, are you?” “Oh fuck, I hope not.” I took Jen’s hand and led her into the bedroom. I pointed at the bed and whispered, “Sit.” She sat on the bed and I smiled as I looked down at her. “I’d like to make you cum.” I whispered. “Would you like that?” Jen just nodded in reply. I knelt down in front of her, my hands on her thighs, and smiled as I looked up into her face. I raked my fingernails slowly down her thighs, as she closed her eyes. The tips of my fingers slid up under her pencil skirt, and she groaned. I let my fingertips explore her legs, through her stockings. Sliding up and down, feeling her firm thighs under her skirt, watching her head fall back, open mouthed, eyes shut and moaning. My fingertips found the top of her stockings and edged them down just a bit. Then I found the hem of her skirt and travesti istanbul pushed it up. Hands on her knees, I edged her legs apart, which pushed her skirt further up her legs. Then I could see the gusset of her lacy black knickers. Fingers raked down her inner thighs, and pulling down her stockings, making her gasp. I leaned down and kissed her legs; one, then the other—just little pecks. I kissed her over and over again, slowly working my way up her legs, passt her stocking tops and onto bare skin. The tip of my tongue traced tiny circles on her skin, and I could hear Jen moan. As my tongue slid down between her thighs, I knew she must be able to feel my hot breath on her pussy; my hands reached up and cupped her breasts. “Oh God.” She whispered. I wriggled between her legs, urging her to part her legs still further, as I licked and kissed at the bare skin of her upper thigh, feeling the heat from her pussy on my face. My hands slid down and pulled at her tight fitting top, pulling it upwards until I could slide my hands across the soft skin of her stomach and up towards her breasts. I forced my hands under her bra and grabbed her tits, nipples between fingers and thumbs as she groaned. I gave her nipples a squeeze until I felt her tense, then I eased off. My nose brushed against her panties and Jen flinched. I could smell her sex, smell her eagerness. I leant back. “Oh God,” She said, “Don’t stop.” I leant back further, and closed her legs, “I have no intention of stopping,” I replied, before grabbing at her panties and pulling them down her legs and off over her black wedge heels. I leaned forward again, my heart pounding in my chest, kissing along her thighs, past her stocking tops looking down at the forest of pubic hair I’d now revealed. My nose brushed through her pubes, and she gasped, “Oh Jesus.” I kissed her—over and over, I kissed her. I breathed her in. My lips against hers, kissing her, tasting her. Licking my own lips, tracing hers with the tip of my tongue. Hearing her ragged breathing, feeling her arch her back. “Oh fuck,” She rasped. I slid the tip of my tongue along the length of her glistening slit, then puckered my lips to kiss her clit. This all felt so natural to me, even though I had never done anything like this before. I sucked on her clitoris, the sensitive nub surrounded by my lips, then brushed against it with the tip of my tongue. I could hear her intake of breath and felt her legs tighten around my head. I released her clit and slid my tongue between her velvet lips; my nose brushed against her clitoris as I started to fuck her with my tongue.
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