Date: Sat, 9 Sep 2006 23:13:49 +0100 (BST)
From: sam c <sam_c02uk@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Queen's Head - Part 1

This story involves sex between adult females.  If that's not
your thing, or if it is illegal in any way, then stop reading.
Otherwise, enjoy!

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      "Bit smaller than I expected," I murmured politely, my
eyes scanning around the few sparse rooms of Flat 12.  I
pondered whether or not it would be legal to keep a pet cat in this
poky, though well-decorated sliver of property, and swinging it
would be absolutely out of the question.  However, needs must,
and I signed the paperwork with a surprising degree of optimism.

      A brightly-lit exterior and an air of merriment wafting out
through open doors amused my senses and lifted my spirits as I
approached my closest hostelry.  Little did I know that had I
walked on I would have spared myself misery, heartache and
desperation that came to fill my every waking moment. I would
also have denied myself an intense sexual and emotional
relationship that not so much ebbed and flowed as raged between
the spring and neap tides of interpersonal relationships.  Should I
have bypassed the welcoming entrance to `The Queen's Head'
and instead followed an alternate destiny via the `Crown and
Sceptre'? Who knows?

      "Pint of smooth, please," I said pleasantly whilst gazing
around at my surroundings.  Like all pubs I have ever
experienced there sat a motley collection of (mostly old) men in
one area close to the bar, but the remaining two-thirds of
customers were dotted around the spacious tavern and looked to
be a mixture of old and young, men and women and several
children.  I noticed that the three young bar staff were all female
and all pleasing to the eye of this thirty-something gay woman.
One in particular stood out, but unfortunately remained away
from the area where I waited to receive my drink.  On doing so I
chose a table not far from the bar with a good view of the length
of the pub.

      Business proceeded as usual the following morning, the
location altered but my work as routine and uninspiring as ever.
"Fuck you," I whispered at my computer screen, for my laptop
and I were engaged in a constant battle of wits I was losing as the
days progressed.  Giving up, I decided it was time for the
deployment of my small-time electrical WMD (the off switch)
and stabbed at it with some relish.  A colleague at the next desk,
Boring Dave, shot me a brief look of pity before turning back to
what I presumed was a spreadsheet he was working on but for all
I know it could have been his new fetish-themed `blog. I grinned
at the back of his head and called it a day.

      "Oh God, Jesus, oohhhhh," I moaned as I lay writhing on
my double bed, panting with ecstasy as each wave of orgasm
built upon the last until it broke with full force.  The pleasure
spread like fire through my body, up and down to the very tips of
my toes and fingers, my neck stretched out as I continued to buck
and jerk with the waves slowly subsiding, incredibly slowly,
feeling like a ten-minute ride of intense and wonderful orgasmic
thrill.  I had recently discovered a new masturbation technique,
only a slight variation on any I have used before but one that has
altered my perception of the female climax.  With my right had
resting gently against my right inner thigh, fingers pointing down
towards my feet, the only movement is from my right thumb, and
only the end part of it. Slowly bending my thumb I stroke my
clitoris from left to right, gently and evenly, then unbend my
thumb and trace the path back from right to left.  A steady pace
leads to the heights of pleasure I have just experienced, and a
slower rhythm brings an even higher intensity of orgasm that is
almost unbearable.

      Later that night, for my sexual release was an early
evening treat, I found myself yet again at the doors of "The
Queen's". This time I took a moment to compose myself after the
brisk twenty-minute walk that separated my accommodation
from my "local".  I felt my heart skip a beat as I saw the same
faces behind the bar as on my previous visit and my eyes were
drawn to the one in particular whose individual yet somehow
irresistible looks had attracted my interest. These were paired
with a delightfully charming manner, exquisite politeness and a
hint of wit and intelligence I suspected may match or even
surpass my own.  We had exchanged pleases and thankyous, no
more, and yet there was a spark, a frisson I could feel from the
first time I saw her.  I did not know this woman's name, but I
knew that I loved her.

      Not one phrase from "What can I get you?" or "Yes
please?" or "Hello, what would you like?" or indeed any
instigation of the future transaction was forthcoming from the
young woman as she inclined her head and raised dark eyebrows
in question.  It seems to be the way things are done in these parts,
a far cry from my old stomping grounds, and I accepted the lack
of conversation as such.
      "Good evening, may I have a pint of Grolsch, please?"
My manner was formal, matching that of this intriguing character
with her cropped black hair and rounded face that carried an
impassive, neutral expression.  I had seen her smile and laugh
with her colleagues when I was last here, and I thought then that
when she smiled it lit up not only her face but her whole persona,
as if a magic wand-waving fairy godmother were practising her
art from behind the fruit machine.  My drink appeared at my
elbow and I held my money, waiting.  Finding it hard to look
people in the eye in any situation, I had not raised my eyes to
hers and could not do so again.  I fumbled with my money as she
spoke clearly, with confidence in herself but a pitch rather higher
than my own voice, conveying a gentle youthfulness.
	"That's two pounds seventy-five, please."
I placed the coins in her hand, thanking her again and as she
turned I stole a glance at the object of my desire.  Her look was
slightly athletic, with the obligatory uniform white shirt covering
a well-rounded chest and strong shoulders.  She was almost half
a foot taller than me (and I am no pixie) and, coupled with the
slightly raised height of the bar floor, my eyes were level with
her breasts. Most conveniently, I thought.

	I learned one simple fact that night.  Her name is Hannah.

      When I left the pub that night, staying until the last of the
regulars had finally shuffled out, my clitoris ached with longing,
built up over the course of the evening with increasing throbbing
with every heartbeat.  I had not attempted conversation or shown
any interest in Hannah but merely observed her and the other
staff going about their work.  She was by far the most
professional and competent, enjoying a laugh and engaging in
playful banter (strictly with colleagues only) but always with a
watchful eye scanning for waiting customers.  The effort put in
by this woman was top-rate and her manner, as ever, unfailingly
polite.  Every time she passed by my table I felt a jolt from
between my legs and knew that I would find my underwear
soaked with my juices.

      My collection of porn is small, and I chose my favourite
lesbian short film to see me through another session of self-
pleasure.  As the cute blonde waitress chatted to a suited-and-
booted lawyer, the lights dimmed and the characters slowly shed
their clothes and their inhibitions.  Blondie kissed Boots with a
fiery passion, grasping her head and probing with a wanting
tongue.  The kissing continued as the two slowly eased down
onto a sheepskin rug that covered the bare stone floor.  I slid my
hand inside my pants.  Earlier I had wanted it slow and sensual,
but this time was all about speed.  Blondie eased her mouth
downwards, covering her partner with kisses as she slid towards
that waiting crack, exposed and slick.  As her tongue flicked
against the swollen clit, Boots shuddered.  This film is known for
its real-life partners and true orgasms, and as I watched one
building on-screen I pumped two fingers inside me, furiously
stroking my large, reddened clit with my other hand.  I could feel
the orgasm rising quickly within me and just as I reached
bursting point the scene finale came to a climax with Boots
grabbing her partner's hair and crying out with ecstasy.  My
orgasm came suddenly, a brief yet intense sensation that left me
breathing hard and satisfied, for the moment.

      "Morning, Dave," I greeted my co-worker automatically as
I strolled past his freakily clean desk to my own cluttered
workspace.  Overnight, somehow, piles of reports had appeared
in one corner, dumped on top of the other piles of paper I was
supposed to be working on.  I filed them in a handy bin and
opened my laptop.   The company, though anally-retentive about
the little things like tea breaks and tidiness, seemed not to
monitor personal emails sent during work hours, or if they did
they didn't care very much.  I read the latest update from my
friend Adam, who would be visiting at the weekend, and scanned
the BBC News website to see if anything exciting was
happening.  It wasn't, so I reluctantly opened Excel and began
work.
      I made lots of mistakes that day, extremely unusual for me.
My mind just wasn't on the task.  Thoughts of Hannah were
invading my daydreams as I imagined cuddling up to her on a
walk through the woods or kissing her after a romantic dinner by
the sea.  I would run my hand through her short hair, stroke her
shoulders as I placed my lips on hers and caress those firm
breasts, watching her face as she enjoys my touch.  Almost
instinctively my hand wandered down towards my crotch before
I remembered where I was and, after a brief squeeze, I pulled my
hand away. I needed relief, and quickly, as the throbbing
continued from my nether regions, and I knew exactly where I
could get it.
      The offices here were fairly large, each one housing five or
six workers, and seemed fairly open-plan.  I was searching for a
colleague and casual sex partner whom I knew had also been
temporarily relocated here.  I soon found her, busily scribbling
away on a notepad at her desk. I sneaked up behind her and
placed both arms on her shoulders.
      "Hey there, stranger," I whispered, planting a quick kiss on
the top of her head.  I had always loved her ginger curls, not too
long with a deep red tinge, and Laura looked better than ever.
She spun around and stood, hugging me tightly for a few seconds
before letting go and frowning.  Not one of the other people in
the office looked up from their work and I wondered if the
company had started to employ robots to keep costs down.
      "Hello my dear, what brings you over to our warm and
cosy Marketing office?" asked Laura with a grin.  My face was
flushed from my earlier imaginings, a fact which had not escaped
my friend's attention.
	"Come on," I said, and without explanation grabbed her by
the hand and led her to the ladies' down the corridor.  Not just a
toilet, this refreshment area boasted a cloakroom, changing room,
showers and a sitting room in addition to the necessary
conveniences.  Locking the door to the sitting room I pulled
Laura down onto a large leather couch in one corner of the
comfortable room.  Sensing my need, my friend spent no time in
unfastening my black shirt and grey trousers, slipping her hands
up my back to unfasten my plain black bra.  Breathing hard, I lay
back and let those dainty, pale hands work their magic.  My
whole body was on fire and I let myself go, imagining that it was
not Laura but Hannah who was making love to me tenderly yet
urgently.
As one hand tweaked my sensitive nipples I felt another sliding
down over my stomach and over my wet slit, fingers parting the
flesh to expose that tender sweet spot.  I almost climaxed then,
such was my heightened state of arousal, but forced myself to
breathe more calmly and let Laura do her stuff.  One finger
slipped inside me and began to move slowly in and out, over no
more than a centimetre.  The tip of Laura's finger must have been
hooked expertly upwards, for I felt my insides burning with the
pleasure from my oft-neglected G-spot.  I arched my back,
silently begging for more, and I got it.  Laura's practised tongue
caressed my clit, one side then the other, up and down then side
to side, and my breaths came quickly as the pressure built.  With
a rhythmic, circular motion her tongue moved in time with her
finger inside me, and it was only seconds before my orgasm
erupted along with involuntary moans of ecstasy.  In my mind it
was Hannah licking and fingering me and giving me this
wonderful pleasure.  It would be interesting in the pub tonight, I
thought as the waves subsided. I pulled Laura towards me and
whispered in her ear.
	"Thank you".

----------------------------------------------------

If you like what you've read, email me, sam_c02uk@yahoo.co.uk
If you don't, also email me, bearing in mind that I'm not a
professional writer.
Cheers!