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Not that I intended going all celibate as a consequence. Rather than devoting our attentions solely to each other, we'd both strayed. I was going to revert to type and alternate between being an utter slut, a complete harlot and a more or less total whore, albeit behaving like the sort of slut/harlot/whore with a genuine gold star. I was going to target every female who crossed my path, lezzie, bi or not. I parked in approximately the same spot almost every day, paying "rent" by using my East Morton local as often as possible, meaning minimally seven times a week. Sadly, the restaurant was fully booked up until five-thirty so, not wanting to drink ourselves to ruined livers, we had a couple of quiet ones before walking round the bend to fuck the afternoon away on my settee. I've mentioned Margot's nails before, I believe, although maybe I referred to them as talons or claws. Margot was as unreliable as ever but she still showed up once or twice a week. Lots of them were old school-friends who'd gone away to uni, graduated and stayed away.Initially there had been the Wife-Swap Fridays, all neatly agreed in advance and acceptable. Could I have kicked off my comeback in finer style? Even Frank Sinatra couldn't have come back more spectacularly. And there she was, perched on a stool at the bar, all blonde hair, super-enhanced tits and sex appeal. She was my favourite older woman, very high-maintenance and a bit of a bitch. (I'll let you use your imagination on that episode, dear reader. I adore having sex with that woman but her nails are something else. And there was the strapless device, doing wonderful things for me as I did wonderful things for her. Going ever deeper and harder, her flesh burning lustily against my flat stomach, her cries and pleas getting louder and louder, her body as good as motionless under me yet somehow not, the bedsprings and my endless, relentless rhythm spurring her ever onwards, ever upwards. My workmate Joyce (also a tad older than me but very, very yummy) soon fell back into the routine. But they still occasionally came home to visit Mummy and Daddy.Sinead still hadn't confessed to having had actual physical lesbian activity, but she certainly had a lot of creative ideas. 'Maybe fifteen years,' I said after working it out in my head. Up until I left home I used to come here twice a year.' 'So how are we here now, in September? And sometimes people can't make their dates due to personal commitments. Get my drift.' 'I don't get how your dad bought this extra week but isn't here.' 'He bought it as a birthday present. 'Nothing personal, but Monday's going to be an all-girl sort of a thing.' He laughed and said, 'Just my luck.' Chapter Three Tipping the driver generously (maybe too generously, not being quite aware how strong the Euro had become), we went to Reception and I was pleased to recognize a familiar face. Then we were at our own little bungalow and I was showing her around.If nothing else she'd put in plenty of time on the good old Internet. 'Believe it or not, some young girl stopped him in the street and persuaded him to go look at the latest new project.' 'Happens to me all the time,' said Sinead in that entrancing lilt of hers. The hotel then gets in touch with other owners, offering them an extra week at a knock-down rate, aware they have already been paid for the lease and that they can only benefit from a second, peppercorn rent, extra bar sales, restaurant sales . And don't worry; my parents aren't going to show up.' 'Is that a promise? 'Senorita Davina,' the god-like guy said, 'it's very good to see you again.' Pooh-poohing the documentation my dad had given me, he handed over a key. We had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen and a living area. By way of explanation, it was by then mid-afternoon.Introduction Hello, it's me again: everyone's favourite cartoon-faced snub-nosed, sexy-specs wearer.Yes, you've all got it: Davina here, reporting for duty once more, ready to spill juicy secrets that for decency's sake perhaps should be kept behind closed blinds. After another lengthy break I am back in the mood to tell more. Most mysteriously, she always knew when I was suddenly single again.And take it from me; she knew my orientation, all right. It was the first week in September and my plane landed at Arrecife Airport just half an hour after hers.
Or maybe my boyish looks fooled everyone into believing we were a straight couple, long-parted by an evil fate. I waited until the storm abated then kissed her mouth in a very thorough way.On the one hand I had been flirting with her for two or three years, nudging her in the direction I wanted her to go. At that moment in time I'd had precisely one genuine snap of Sinead to go on, and I wasn't so entirely sure it really was her.On the other hand I finally invited her and, within an hour or so, she had booked us flights via a cousin of hers, and heavily discounted flights at that. Seeing her in the flesh made me realize her stupendous bikini-clad pic didn't begin to do anything like justice. She was as tall as me (five-eight) with lovely long, dark red hair, beautiful bright green eyes and quite spectacular tits. Think "red hair" and "Irish" and you expect paleness, but not in her case.Having Kat declare her undying love in Departures had taken me by surprise. I'd been planning the big, tearful farewell for nearly a month. I knew that sooner or later Kat would turn up again, supremely tanned all over and brimming with lots of sweet promises. At one stage I'd become so accustomed to all the clawing that I didn't feel it anymore. Not that she'd ever admitted to being lesbian or even bi.That night, (over a year out of practice as I was), I did feel it . Well, not apart from telling me that she was done with "bastard men" after her most recent break-up.
But there had also been numerous less formal dalliances. Leaving Maxine 2, my (relatively) new Mini on The Busfeild Arms' car park, I went into the pub for one drink . She was also drop-dead gorgeous and dynamite between the sheets . Let's just say it really had been too long and we were both exceedingly up for it. Margot nearly always wants to be on the receiving end, preferably with a strapless strap-on involved. Correct me if I'm wrong, but what was there not to like about that? My hands gripping her tits as I gritted my teeth and fought off climaxes of my own . That is to say we alternated, spending one night in her bed, the next in mine. And when they did, they nearly always visited me as well. I class me as boyish and unattractive; girls with any degree of bi-curiosity at all seem to class me as alluring. I couldn't possibly ever allure myself, but I'm glad others feel differently. And sorry Danger Prone Daphne; I know you're really the glamour puss of the Mystery Machine crew; I sincerely do not know how I keep outdoing you! Oh yes, I had done a lot of catching up with exes but absolutely zero "new". At risk of alienating both my alter egos, my guardian angel and that little red devil, I'm obliged to admit I can be an awful perv whenever I see a new girl. innocent, incidental items like that, whether she's actually wearing them or not). Can't they appreciate what I could do for them if only they'd let me loose on their luscious bods?