0 comments/ 25931 views/ 2 favorites An Unexpected Scoop Ch. 01 By: Banishame This is intended to be an introduction to characters who will recur as I submit further stories. Comments are welcomed, especially positive ones! ****************** “Christ, I’m supposed to a journalist,” I thought despairingly to myself. “I bet this never happens to Lynn Barber.” Objectivity, dispassionate analysis and professional distance were now scattered to the four winds, as I wrestled with my conscience whilst simultaneously groping around in my mind for a way out of this extremely sticky situation. Interviewers for “quality” Sunday newspapers were definitely not supposed to sleep with their interviewees. And now that I had, what to do? Obviously, I could keep my trap shut and just leave out any references to what had happened between Lisa Brando and me. That would be the easy way out, but in a way, I reasoned, that would make for a much less interesting piece, not to mention a less honest one. Lisa was renowned for her sexual allure, having been described variously as “the world’s biggest slapper,” a “female Casanova,” “the most important post-feminist figure in the country,” “a woman whose promiscuity and vile and unnatural habits signal the ever-declining moral climate in the UK,” and, her personal favourite, “a rampaging, bisexual sex maniac who incites hatred from those who envy her apparent ability to get pretty much anyone into bed.” What a lovely irony that the journalist sent to meet her and deconstruct her public persona and fascinating history should herself succumb to those famous charms! After all, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t been warned… ******************** “Care to bet 50 quid that she’ll have her wicked way with you before the first day is out?” said my editor Sean with a knowing look as I headed out of the office to catch a taxi to the airport. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous” I snorted. “First of all, I have never batted for the other side, and don’t see any reason to change the habit of a lifetime now. Secondly, she’s supposed to have calmed down a lot in the last few years. And thirdly, er…” I was relieved when Sean’s phone rang at that moment, as I was struggling to think of a third reason. Still, those two ought to be enough, surely. And as a recent arrival at the paper, I had no intention of blotting my copybook at my first major assignment. Anyway, I was looking forward to the trip. A long weekend in the south of France (albeit the unfashionable bit, miles away from Cannes and the Riviera, heading towards the Spanish border just north of Perpignan), and a chance to interview one of the most interesting figures in the mysterious and cultish world of performance art – why wouldn’t I be looking forward to that? As the plane reached its cruising altitude, I scanned the summary of my research about Lisa: the rumours of an extremely unconventional childhood; the alleged under-age affair with that (male) English singer-songwriter; the whisperings of the “extremely close friendship” she struck up with Jodie Foster when they worked on a film together; the supposedly astronomical number of people she had slept with. It suddenly struck me how much of it WAS speculation. I hoped that, if nothing else, my piece would set the record straight about some of the more salacious rumours, and allow the spotlight to shift to her career. There was her performance poetry; the comic monologues sending up her own reputation as a “Donna Juan”; the book she’d written comparing different attitudes to promiscuity in men and women; the campaigning work she’d done around pornography, both seeking to dissolve some of the secrecy and shame around it, and highlighting how much of it exploited women; and the two albums of extraordinarily carnal songs she’d released. It was a pretty impressive CV, and I had bagged the exclusive, in-depth interview. It would be a big feather in my cap. ********************** I was nearly there. I eased the rented car along the cinder track towards the house where she was staying, thanking her for the clear directions, which she’d written out and faxed to me personally. That was a nice touch: she didn’t have lots of “people” swarming around her. There wouldn’t be agents telling me what I could and couldn’t ask her, or tapping their watches when my 45 minutes were up. One thing I fancied we would have in common was a dislike for wearing shoes – in nearly every photo I’d seen of her, she was barefoot, including when she met Prince Charles at an awards ceremony. That took some bottle, I’d thought at the time. I was determined to go barefoot for as much of this trip as possible, and had packed away my only pair of shoes as soon as I’d found the car. I’d always felt there was something deeply sensual about the sensation of the ground beneath my bare feet, whether it was grass, sand or even road. Lisa was someone after my own heart as far as that was concerned. Actually, I had also heard that she generally dispensed with clothes when indoors, but I had discounted that as yet another on the teetering pile of rumours about her. Wasn’t naturism rather naff and uncool, especially for such a hip person? There was a note on the door: “Hi Stacey, I’m round the back, just come through, the door’s open.” As I walked through the big, sparse living room, enjoying the relief from the hot sun, a figure was walking towards me from the terrace at the back of the house. Because of the brightness behind her, I couldn’t make out the face until she was a few feet away from me, extending a hand with a warm smile. “Stacey, lovely to meet you, I’ve always enjoyed your writing. Another shoeless wonder, eh? Good on you! Drink?” I’ll be honest: I was taken aback. I knew from the photos, films and videos that she was a very attractive woman, but I’d imagined her as rather tomboyish, almost androgynous. In the flesh, she was certainly slim and gamine, but at the same time more feminine than my picture of her had allowed. Her light brown hair was cut short and tousled, framing very symmetrical features. Her eyes were also light brown, and had a mischievous sparkle to them. This accorded with the received wisdom about Lisa: that her eyes were not just the windows to the soul, but the door to the bedroom. She didn’t seem to be wearing any make-up, and I thought she was, in a very understated way, stunning. She wasn’t naked, somewhat to my relief, although she wasn’t wearing much. A light pair of shorts and a thin, unbuttoned waistcoat seemed to be about it. Aware of being able to see the edges of her small, pert breasts, I cast my eyes downward to her feet; they were slim and elegantly proportioned, with long, straight toes, the nails painted a deep maroon. “Um, some cold water would be perfect,” I stammered, suddenly wondering how much time had elapsed since her question – had I been gawping at her for longer than was seemly? Sheesh, pull yourself together girl, I said to myself as she sauntered towards the kitchen, her lithe limbs and straight posture proclaiming the benefits of all that karate and pilates she had done. “So, what’s the most outlandish story you’ve heard about me,” she asked with a grin as she returned. This threw me a little, as it was the very question I had been intending to put to her. I noticed what a sexy voice she had, deeper than you’d expect from such a slight frame, and with a little catch in it. “Well, there are plenty to chose from aren’t there, blimey, I wouldn’t know where to start. That you are never wear clothes indoors; that there’s a website somewhere with photos and films of you having sex with loads of different people, except that no one has ever found it; that you punched Liam Gallagher’s lights out backstage at the Brit Awards after he’d said something about you – shall I go on?” She smiled again, with an easy grace born of great self-confidence. “Hmm, I’ve heard a lot worse! There are elements of truth in all of those, actually. Maybe you were too polite to mention some of the more out-there ones, which before you ask, are all untrue: that I once shagged a dolphin; that I used to be a hooker; that I spiked Prince William’s drink with Ecstasy; that it wasn’t really me singing on my records – shall I go on??” This little exchange boded well, I thought: we seemed to have hit it off well, and the first part of the interview clicked nicely into place. After a couple of hours she excused herself and went off to the loo, which was right next to the terrace. She didn’t shut the door and I could hear her peeing, though I wasn’t bothered by that – I had been to a boarding school after all, where privacy was in short supply, even when doing our ablutions. When I went a few minutes later, I too left the door open, and she even carried on the conversation as I peed. Good thing I’m not precious about such things, I thought – not that they would have sent someone of a nervous disposition to interview Lisa in the first place. After supper, she suggested a walk down to the beach, which was only half a mile away. Although it was getting towards dusk, it was still pretty warm, and I was just wearing a long t-shirt and my bikini bottoms. Lisa seemed to be wearing the same thing by now. As we walked, I asked her about her reputation as an exhibitionist. “Well, you know, you say tomayto, I say tomato. I mentioned earlier that I don’t bother with clothes a lot of the time, but what people don’t seem to believe is that it’s not to show off or shock – I just feel comfortable in my own skin and with my body, and if I don’t need clothes to keep warm or to look stylish, I’d sooner go without. It’s not exhibitionism. If I was to lift up my t-shirt and flash my fanny at you, that would be exhibitionism. But if I just took my t-shirt off, that’d be because I feel more comfortable without it. I guess one thing I’ve learned is to consider other people’s sensibilities more than I used to. I still don’t understand why people would be offended, mind you.” “I wouldn’t be offended,” I said, truthfully. “It’s completely illogical that we can see friends and strangers naked in the showers and not bat an eyelid, yet in other places it’s taboo – just goes to show it’s not really about the body per se, but the context.” “Spoken like an award-winning journalist,” was Lisa’s reply as she calmly peeled off her t-shirt, revealing that she hadn’t been wearing anything under it. “I’m glad you don’t feel awkward. I can see the headline if you were writing for one of the tabloids: “Lisa “kit-off” Brando bares all for our reporter – see pages 2,3, 5-7…” “Ah yes, the features editor at The Sun was moaning to me that you never return his calls,” I joked. She gave a wry chuckle. As we walked on, with not a soul in sight, I felt emboldened. “Do you know, I think I might join you,” I said. Lisa gave a theatrical “shock horror” expression as I took off my t-shirt and slipped off the bikini bottoms. “You realise that this could mean the end of civilisation as we know it? Two naked birds walking along a nearly deserted beach – I mean, what a scandal!” “What do you mean ‘nearly deserted,’ ” I asked, feeling slightly less bold all of a sudden. “Don’t worry, they’re miles away, they can’t see much – besides, I’ve met that lot, they’re cool.” She had been gesturing up to another house, a couple of hundred yards up the beach, where a small group of men and women were sitting around outside. Still, I could have sworn I heard a wolf whistle as we turned to head back to the house. On the way back I felt several very different things at the same time. There was something exciting, almost wanton, about being naked outdoors in a public place; I felt both cool and a bit unnerved by her obvious ease in these circumstances, and I was aware that I was still adjusting, although it was a far from unpleasant experience. I also noticed that I couldn’t help eyeing up her body as we talked – well it’s hard not to, isn’t it? I’d seen plenty of photos of her naked body (I’d done my research!), but it was a still startling to find myself walking beside her. Her breasts were indeed small, but the epithet “flat-chested” wasn’t accurate – each would make a sweet little handful, I reckoned. Her stomach was beautifully flat, but with enough muscle and definition to prevent it being skinny. Her pubic hair didn’t look as if it had been shaved or trimmed, but was naturally very fine, as was the rest of her hair, including in her armpits, which were also unshaven. She looked completely natural, and frankly she looked fantastic. Back at the house, we were working our way through a second bottle of the local Fitou. “Saucy little number, wouldn’t you say?” said Lisa as she poured, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly. “Ooh yes,” I replied, happy to join in the fun; “full bodied, appealing, very quaffable.” “Shame about the wine, though, eh?” she riposted. Bloody hell, does this count as flirtation, I asked myself. We were, after all, lounging around naked on a couple of large beanbags, trading none-too-subtle double entendres and getting progressively more tipsy as the night wore on. Still, despite her reputation, she had not made anything that could be described as an overt pass at me. Maybe her notoriety as a seductress was (partly at least) fuelled by simple misunderstanding: she liked to be naked and was totally unselfconscious about it, talked very openly about sex and had a naturally joshing style of conversation, all of which could seem to add up to the world’s biggest flirt – when in fact she was just being herself. As we carried on talking, nature took its course and I staggered off to the bathroom. As we were in the middle of a particularly involving discussion about whether Morrissey or Jarvis Cocker was the greater lyricist, she tottered along with me, and carried on the conversation without missing a beat, sitting on the edge of the bath a couple of yards away from me as I finally released my bladder. Oh well, yet another first, I thought – no one had ever carried on interacting with me like this as I had a piss, once again without betraying any sign that this was a weird thing to do. “Don’t flush, I need to go too,” she said. So we swapped places, and I tried to appear nonchalant as she started to pee with a sigh of relief. I didn’t want to look away, I didn’t want to stare, so I did my best to maintain eye contact, my glance occasionally straying downwards to the flow of silvery liquid issuing from her. I had to admit to myself that this was a pretty erotic sight. In my drunken haze, I was starting to entertain some unaccustomed notions. Since when did watersports figure on my list of turn-ons, I wondered. We washed our hands together at the basin, and after I had fetched my washbag we ended up cleaning our teeth together too. “Christ, we’re cleaning our teeth in unison, this is what married people do,” I thought, doing my best to dispel the image that popped into my mind of us retiring to the conjugal bed in our flannelette pyjamas, turning the lights off and turning away from each other. The guest bedroom was next to hers, and after glugging down as much water as I could bear, to stave off the impending hangover, I flopped onto the bed. As sleep began to overtake me, my last thought was that I should have taken Sean up on his bet… ********************* It must have been about 6 in the morning when I woke up, realising with a groan that I needed to pee again. I was in that curious state where I still felt slightly drunk, but also much more awake than I should have been given how little sleep I’d had. As I walked out of my door, I was amazed to see Lisa emerging from her room at the same time, clearly heading in the same direction, with a look of surprise on her face. “Great bodies think alike!” she said with a shrug as we found ourselves in the bathroom together again. There was a pause as we looked at each other, wondering who was going to go first. “Let’s be fair and do it together,” was her unexpected suggestion, taking me completely off guard and accompanied by another of those twinkling grins. “Erm, well, there’s an offer you don’t get every day! Not sure how that would work actually…” I babbled. “Not on the loo, silly,” she said gently, with a rather softer smile, turning her head towards the generously proportioned shower compartment. “Oh, I see. Blimey! That’s definitely virgin territory for me, Lisa, I don’t know what to say.” “Well, I’m glad at least that it’s not “No fucking way, you pervert!” We both smiled at that. I had to admire her sheer brazenness. I didn’t know quite what this was going to lead to, but I knew two things: firstly, that I had had stirrings “down below” watching her pee earlier; and secondly, that had she propositioned me in a more conventional way, I would almost certainly have declined. And was this communal peeing some kind of foreplay, or just part of her playfulness, combined with a resolutely robust attitude to all bodily needs? And so there we were, facing each other in the shower. “I can turn the water on now if you want, Stacey, but I’d like to do that afterwards, if you’re willing. It’s better this way, I think.” Hell, this was definitely sexual. I nodded, and took a couple of steps towards her, so that we were within touching distance. She put her hands on my shoulders; I did the same, and as we made eye contact we both understood that we were ready. As her first few drops touched my thighs, I felt my stomach do a somersault, and I felt flooded with lust. I pulled her to me and threw my arms around her, bringing our bodies together. The stream of urine shooting out of her was now landing right on my clit, leaving a delicious, warm, wet tingling sensation. It was not unlike using a shower nozzle to masturbate, but made infinitely more exciting by the fact that the liquid was coming not out of a man-made device, but directly out of a beautiful human being. I felt hornier than I had for years, and was ready to reciprocate as her lips moved towards mine. Amid the overwhelming physical sensations, I found a bit of room for the thought that, having lifted the previously unrecognised embargo on watersports, my first French kiss with a woman was really no big deal. My god, there was one rumour about her that was definitely true – she was a sensational kisser, with an extremely long and flexible tongue. As my senses reached overload, I realised to my astonishment how close I was to coming, with a swiftness I wouldn’t have thought possible. “Christ, I’m nearly there,” I managed to gasp, pulling away from her for a second. She pulled my head back towards hers with one hand, and thrust her tongue into my mouth once again, while her other hand reached down and massaged my clit for the few moments that it took to push me over the edge. As I reached my noisy climax, she broke the kiss to give me more chance to breathe, and pissed her last few squirts onto my clit and her fingers. My legs all but buckled from the orgasm, and only her sinewy arms prevented me from collapsing to the floor. I felt wiped out, drunk on alcohol, and on lust, the strongest poison and medicine of all. Nerve endings all over my body were wide awake, even as my brain was telling me I’d only had about four hours sleep. I gazed blearily into her eyes, which were regarding me with a mixture of warmth, lasciviousness and anticipation. “My god Ms Brando, what did we just do?” was all that came out of my mouth. She smiled that beautiful smile, and this time I felt part of me melt a little. “Well, Ms Dorning, I think we might have just had sex. I’m guessing that you quite enjoyed it.” “Wow, clairvoyant as well!” I managed, with a feeble grin. “I hope that’s not the last of it – I hope it’s the beginning. We could have a lot of fun together.” “I believe you,” I said. “I believe you.” An Unexpected Scoop Ch. 02 This chapter picks up at the point the first chapter left off. It probably makes more sense if you've read the first chapter, but is also meant to stand alone. Thanks for all the positive feedback on the first chapter, I really appreciate it - and if you like this story, please vote! It'll encourage me to write more - and there's plenty more to come, which will broaden the horizons and bring in more people and other types of fun... A few moments had passed and we were still staring into each other’s eyes. I was reeling from the impact of what Lisa and I had just done, and from the intensity of the orgasm I had just experienced. I had no idea what was going though her mind, except that it certainly wasn’t “wow, that was my first sexual experience with a woman.” I didn’t even know whether she had come. I had trouble getting my head around anything. Truly, I felt as if I had just been deflowered for a second time. Lisa then reached behind her and turned on the shower. That certainly woke me up, as the water was initially very cold. As it warmed up, I felt my mind looming back into focus, and my feet touching back to the floor. Was that the sort of thing people meant when they talked about “out of body experiences?” Lisa poured some shampoo onto my head and started to massage it in. She couldn’t have known that, when I’d had the old “what would you do if you won the Lottery” conversation, I’d often said that I’d employ someone to stroke my hair all day; I purred in appreciation. She slowly moved me back under the flow to rinse my hair, and proceeded to wash me all over. I kept my eyes closed and just enjoyed this sensual attention from her strong hands, savouring the moments when her nipples brushed against me, and when her fingers touched my cunt and my arsehole. It was bliss and I was putty. After a few moments, I forced my eyes open, and mentally shook myself out of the pleasurable stupor I had been in. One good turn deserves another, I thought. I reached over for the shampoo, and washed her hair, enjoying her soft moans of appreciation as I worked my fingers over her scalp. Once again, I felt a frisson of excitement whenever my nipples brushed against hers; somehow this was made all the more erotic because I wasn’t deliberately rubbing my tits against hers – so when it happened it was unexpected. I followed her example by washing her all over with shower gel, feeling very uncertain when I got down between her legs, and my fingers made contact with another woman’s pubic hair for the first time. Encouraged by a smile from her, I worked my way round to her firm, slender buttocks, and squeezed some more gel out. She shivered unmistakably as my fingers reached her anus, and gently rubbed the gel around and over it. “I feel very clean now,” she said. “Thank you so much.” “The pleasure is mine too.” “Let’s get out and dried,” she said, turning the shower off and stepping out. She took two huge towels from a cupboard and handed one to me. As we exited the bathroom, it was obvious that we were going back to the same bedroom. She led in and collapsed backwards onto the bed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely knackered.” I don’t know even now what I was expecting right at that moment, but, not for the first time, I was a bit relieved that we were just going to catch up on the sleep we hadn’t had. I was tired and sobering up and was aware of the creeping onset of a medium sized hangover; and I wasn’t ready to wade any further into Sapphic waters than I had already got. So off we slipped into the arms of Morpheus. ******************** This was a more respectable time to wake up. The clock on the bedside table said just after midday. I turned over and started slightly to see Lisa next to me, still asleep. She was on her side facing me, the bedclothes only reaching halfway up her thighs. I looked at her naked body with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. She looked – strange to say – demure, the last word I would have expected to use about her, even before our encounter a few hours previously. After all, she hadn’t denied that there was a website somewhere with photos and video clips of her having sex with various people, when I’d asked her about it the previous day. Ah yes, the interview! I knew I was here in southern France for a reason other than to be introduced to bizarre sexual practices. My brief was to produce an in-depth profile concentrating on her career as a performance artist, poet and singer/songwriter. Although I had made a start and certainly had the beginnings of a good piece, what now? Would we pick up the interview where we had left off – or would we pick up the other strand of our interaction where that had left off?? Her eyes opened and she gave that unspeakably cute grin. “So Ms Dorning, what’s the next question?” “What’s for breakfast?” I offered. “Lunch, surely!” “Whatever. Let’s call it brunch and split the difference. I’m feeling hungry, which I guess means I’m not too hungover – no thanks to you, forcing me to drink all that wine last night.” Oh my god, I thought – we were flirting again, or was this just companionable banter? Over coffee and croissants on the terrace, I reflected on how at ease I felt being naked in her company. In fact, it was getting on for a whole day since I’d worn any clothes, and I was racking my brain to decide whether this was a record. “So how long do you actually go kit-free?” I asked finally, unable to avoid the subject any longer. “You’d be surprised. I can get food delivered, I can go for walks on the beach without getting hassled, I’ve got everything I need here: books, guitar, computer, stereo, etc etc. There’s a guy who runs a little kiosk just where the beach starts, and he doesn’t bat an eyelid any more when he sees me. And my friends are used to my strange ways. I go for days without a stitch on when it’s warm here, which is a goodly portion of the year. Let’s face it, this ain’t London!” “And shoes?” “Well, contrary to popular belief, I do wear shoes sometimes. Who wants to get glass in their feet or tread in dog turds? But basically I’m a barefoot hippy babe – like you, in fact, unless I’m much mistaken.” “Well, don’t know about the “hippy” – or the “babe” for that matter, though I’ll take that as a compliment. But yeah, I go barefoot as much as possible, though I don’t know if I’d have been confident enough to meet with royalty like that.” There was a long pause then. There was one thing we still hadn’t talked about, and it was like the proverbial elephant in the room that everyone was ignoring. She probably guessed what was on my mind, of course. She smiled at me again. “So, where to now, Stacey? I’m aware that apart from anything else you’ve still got a job to do, and whatever else happens between us, I imagine getting that sussed out would be a good thing to do now.” She really was full of surprises. Somehow I hadn’t expected her to be so businesslike and full of common sense, although she clearly wasn’t ruling out any extra-curricular activities. “That’s a great idea,” I said, gathering my thoughts together as best I could. “OK, what about this: we do another segment of the interview this afternoon, see how that goes. Maybe we’ll finish it today; if not, we’ve got most of tomorrow before I have to head back. And we could do the photos tomorrow – though I did warn you in my last email that I’m strictly amateur hour when it comes to cameras.” “That’s fine, I just find it such a drag having a photographer along too, they always take so long, and want to tart you up and pose you, or wait until the light is right. You can’t get rid of the buggers. I like to keep things as simple as possible.” She paused a beat, and added with a comic’s timing: “That’s why I agreed to let you interview me.” ****************** So, we’d got along famously. I’d got lots of insightful observations, covered most of the stuff on my list: career, inspirations, the “so what exactly IS performance art” question, her views on sex and sexuality, which were many and expressed with gusto and clarity. I also got lots of Grade 1 tales of debauchery and lust among London’s “beautiful people” and a no doubt partial list of some of the people with whom Lisa had made the beast with two backs – sadly I am not at liberty to spill the beans as to their identities. As open as she was for the most part, she was firm about what she wasn’t willing to discuss: enquiries about her family, her (very) early sexual experiences, and, most frustratingly, the semi-legendary incident where she was supposed to have responded to taunts from Liam Gallagher with a straight right that deposited the simian one on the canvas. However, she did tell me a bit about the most persistent piece of her legend: the website… “I don’t know exactly what you’ve heard, but it’s basically true: I have taken plenty of photos and films over the years, and I and some of my closest friends – or maybe I should be more specific, fuck buddies – decided to put some of the more choice items up on the web, so we could access them from anywhere, and indeed share them with others when occasion demands. One of our number is a bit of a wiz with all that IT security stuff, so it’s something that nobody could ever find by accident, and it’s absolutely bloody impossible to get into without knowing several passwords, blah blah blah. So, I’m guessing you want to know more, and would be quite interested in having a little peek some time.” “Correct again, Holmes,” I said. “Let’s do that tomorrow then. I’ve something else in mind for this evening.” “Oh, and what might that be?” “Let’s put it this way. We are going to get through this whole jug of water and then go for a stroll and see what happens. How does that grab you?” I took a deep breath. This was sounding very tantalising, as if Lisa wanted to pick up where we had left off early this morning. And I’d been shocked at how turned on I had been by my induction into watersports. And there was something so alluring about her that I didn’t ask myself the obvious questions, principally “Oh my god, does this mean I’m a lesbian?” She was noticeably uncurious about me, not asking the questions I would have imagined one would in this situation, like whether I had a partner, whether I was gay, whether I had ever experimented like this – none of it seemed to matter to her. She seemed to live totally in the moment, and take people as they came. Her laid-back attitude seemed to be rubbing off on me, as I found myself thinking “what the hell, let’s go with the flow (ha!), it’s not as if she’s forcing me.” “It grabs me quite a lot,” I replied finally, giving her the cue to refill the glasses. Eventually we drained the last of the water from the colossal jug, and stood up. “Ready?” she asked. I was about to leave the house, stark naked, with a very full bladder, and walk down to the beach with this gorgeous woman to engage in activities that were as far away from the missionary position as it was possible to get. Was I ready?? “Sheesh, ready as I’m ever gonna be. Are you really sure there isn’t going to be a coach party of camcorder-brandishing tourists pitching up?” “Let’s not hope for too much, eh?” she almost muttered. Her sheer insouciance was quite breathtaking, and had the effect of making me feel reckless and terrified at the same time. As we walked along at the side of the path, the grass felt lovely under my feet. There was virtually no breeze and it was pleasantly warm, heading towards dusk. Sure enough, there was still nobody around. “How did you find this place?” I asked, partly out of nervousness, but I was genuinely intrigued. “I was wondering when you’d ask! The house belongs to a friend of mine [I could almost hear the inverted commas around the word “friend”, even though Lisa didn’t make that rather annoying gesture that people make to indicate irony]. She isn’t here much, and I get to use it a lot of the time. It’d be fair to say she’s pretty famous, and known for speaking fluent French, which is most unusual for people from her country. And she’s very keen on privacy. It certainly took her a long time to scout this place out.” “I think I know whereof you speak,” I replied, thinking back to one of the other most popular rumours about her. It was clear she wouldn’t tell me any more, and I didn’t feel like asking anyway. What did it matter? We were nearly at the beach, making slow progress because of the discomfort of needing badly to pee. Lisa took my hand and led me off away from the path, into where there were some little grassy hillocks interspersed with the beginnings of the sand. Lisa stopped and turned to face me, her mouth mere inches away from mine. “I am so fucking horny, Stacey. You are beautiful and sexy, and I want you. I want to taste you now. Do you want that too?” My stomach was turning over again as she stared deeply into my eyes. The recklessness was there, but the terror had gone AWOL for now. “I’m up for this, Lisa.” She ushered me to a low grassy bank and lay me down on it, with my legs on the edge of it, and knelt down below the bank, her mouth now almost level with my pussy. I drew up my knees and opened my legs, knowing I wasn’t going to pull out of this now, yet still hardly believing what I was about to do. I took some deep breaths and tried to relax my bladder, which was screaming for release. And then the flow started. The clear urine gushed out of my body – straight into her waiting mouth. For the first few seconds it went straight down her throat. She was swallowing my piss, with a look of approaching ecstasy on her face. Her eyes were open and she looked up at me, drunk with lust. The effect on me was like nothing I had ever envisaged. I went from nought to sixty in mere seconds, and I felt as if the slightest touch would bring me to climax. After a few seconds, as my pent-up flow was at full strength, she stopped drinking it, instead letting it splash all over her face, in and around her mouth, in her hair, in her eyes, everywhere. Then she moved up and started to lick me, alternating between my clit and my pee hole, giving me new and mind-blowing sensations of an intensity I can’t do justice to with the written word. Of course, I came with a scream. As the flow slowed, she placed her open mouth right over my pee hole, and took the last few seconds’ worth straight down her throat, then licking me again, until another even bigger orgasmic wave crashed over me, leaving me barely conscious. I lay back, feeling every blade of grass under my back and arse. It was as if I’d been earthed, plugged directly into the mains. A few tears escaped from my eyes too, although they didn’t know why. “Kiss me Lisa,” I croaked. In an instant she was beside me, her mouth meeting mine, kissing me deeply, giving me a taste of myself – and a taste to try it myself. “Let’s swap places. I want to do the same to you, I want to give you as much pleasure as you’ve just given me. I am so hot I can hardly stand it.” “Oh god, yes, take me in your mouth, you’re driving me fuckin’ wild,” Lisa gasped. She lay back and I followed her lead, my open mouth waiting to receive. I wanted her to piss in my face, to see it coming out of her, to taste it on my tongue, to feel it splash around my mouth. I revelled in the first few spurts, and then in the strong, constant flow that just kept coming, splashing all over my face. My hair was getting soaked and I didn’t care. I didn’t want her to stop, and moved my mouth closer and closer, until it was all going into my mouth. I let it in, noticing with surprise that it hardly tasted of anything – it was like warm soup that had been diluted too much. But in that moment it was delicious, and I managed to open the back of my throat, allowing me to swallow a good slug of her pee, while tickling her hole with the end of my tongue, which seemed to push her over the edge. Finally the flow stopped, and I stayed with my mouth clamped over her, catching the last couple of feeble squirts of piss and swallowing them, as I brought myself to my third orgasm in minutes with my fingers. As my body stopped shaking, I opened my eyes and stared at her lovely cunt, wanting to go down on her and make her come again. The small bud of her clit was engorged and inviting, and as my tongue reached it an extraordinary sound escaped from Lisa’s mouth, something between a sigh and a growl. “Oh Christ that’s good, oh yes, just like that…” Her words became more feral and less like language, as I continued to lick her. She was now stroking my hair and back with her toes, another incredibly intimate contact that kept me at fever pitch. “I’m so close” I said between strokes of my tongue. “Let’s come together, come on up” she responded, and I knew what she meant. I swung around and lowered my pussy onto her waiting mouth while continuing to work on her, giving me the closest experience a woman can get to going down on herself. Somehow, using body language and grunts, we managed to coordinate our orgasms, accompanied by so much writhing around that we almost rolled off the edge of the bank. We lay there for a few moments in silence, hearing nothing but the gentle ebb and flow of the Mediterranean. I realised that it was getting very dark now, although I had no idea how long we had been there. Was it an hour, half an hour, just a few minutes? “I have to say, Ms Dorning, your interviewing technique is quite the most unorthodox I’ve ever encountered,” she said at last, slowly climbing to her feet and helping me up. We started the walk back to the house, this time holding hands. This was an unexpected scoop – shame it wouldn’t make it into the article. Still, at least you get to enjoy it, Dear Reader. An Unexpected Scoop Ch. 03 Apologies for the delay, dear reader. It's been too long since the second part of this story, but inspiration is flowing [ahem] again, and I'm hoping there will be a fourth part before too long. Thanks to everyone who's voted for the first two parts: Feedback always welcome... * * * * * We walked back to the house in the gloaming, still without my having laid eyes on another human being, apart from the distant strangers on the beach the day before. It was as if we had withdrawn into a hermetically sealed world where the rules and social norms I knew did not apply. I was supposed to fly back to London the following day, a prospect that felt like both a relief and a wrench. There I was again, in two minds. What was the point of analysing, I thought. I'm into something new and thrilling; let's just go along for the ride and see how long I could hold on. We walked into the house, still holding hands, and Lisa led me straight to the bathroom. "I think a shower is in order, wouldn't you say?" she asked, not that I needed to reply. As the powerful jet of water washed us clean, we stood facing each other, a few inches apart. She put her arms around me and kissed me on the mouth, slowly parting her lips and sliding her tongue gently forward to meet mine. We kissed for a long while, as I stroked her hair, while her hands slid down my back to my bum, caressing me sensuously. I was seriously getting to like this. Eventually she broke the kiss. "Well Stacey, you're still here. I'm assuming that means you're not too freaked out by what we've just done. I only hope you enjoyed it as much as I did." "Of course I did! It was amazing, really it was. And you've never asked, but I want you to know that it was all new to me, all of it. I'd never even snogged a girl before, not that I'd ever ruled it out. And as for, well..." I trailed off. I had always thought of myself as unshockable. Was I? I could barely bring myself to name what we had been doing. She said nothing, watching the gears grinding around in my head, the faint suggestion of a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. "That peeing stuff, well, that was something I'd only ever heard about. Who knew I'd be so into it?" I paused, and continued, with greater conviction, "and I *was* into it. It was a major turn-on, it was strange and intense and felt forbidden and taboo. You've flicked a switch, Lisa..." "Ooh goody!" she exclaimed delightedly. "I've turned you into a piss whore!" "Oh for goodness sake, what are you like, you old tart," I joshed back, slapping her bottom. "The night is still young, you know," she said, looking me squarely in the eyes. "Uh-huh, what makes me think that you are about to make some depraved suggestion concerning our evening activities?" "Well, you remember those folks we saw yesterday, in that house right on the beach?" "Hard to forget, given the circumstances. Do you have big orgies with them where everyone pisses on each other?" I was joking. At least I thought I was. And Lisa did smile. Then she said simply, "Amongst other things." There was a short lull in the conversation as we got out of the shower and dried ourselves off. "Here's my suggestion," she said a few minutes later as we sat together on the sofa. "There's a couple among that lot, Saeed and Véronique, who I'm particularly close to. They're lovely, and they're pretty wild, which is a great combination in my book. I'd love to invite them over for some fun, and I'd love you to be part of it. Obviously, you can stop me right now if you don't like the idea." She paused long enough for me to raise an objection. I think she knew there would be none. She continued. "We have an agreement between the three of us that with any other people we shag we always use condoms, and get tested every so often, which leaves us to do whatever the hell we like when we get together. Now, that needn't be too much of an impediment..." I interrupted her: "Here's a happy coincidence: I started my new job three weeks ago, as you know, and I had to have a full health check-up as part of the deal. I don't have a piece of paper to prove it, but I'm clean." She looked me in the eyes again, holding my gaze intently. It felt as if she was looking right inside me. Eventually she nodded and said "I believe I can trust you. Your money's good at this here establishment, ma'am." "So what happens now?" I asked. "I pick up the phone, they drop everything and come over here, we drink lots of wine and water and maybe smoke some weed, then we fuck each other's brains out and do whatever else takes our fancy. Sound like a plan?" "Make the call." * * * * * Preparations were minimal. Lisa dragged in a huge mat made of thin, dense foam rubber, and placed it in the middle of the large living room, with the sofa and armchairs around it. "Et voila! The master bedroom!" she announced with a flourish and a smirk. She went to the kitchen and returned bearing a tray containing water and glasses, two bottles of wine and a bottle of olive oil. She then went to her bedroom, returning with a tobacco pouch, which she opened to reveal a bag of rolling tobacco and a smaller bag of grass. "All organic," she said with a wink, as she started to roll a generously proportioned spliff. As we smoked it and drank water and wine in turn, she turned to me, momentarily serious. "They'll be here soon, Stacey. I know you're a grown woman with a mind of her own and a proper job and all that, unlike me, but I would really hate to feel that I'd railroaded you into something you weren't entirely comfortable with. I mean, nobody's going to force anyone to do anything tonight, but it gets pretty crazy sometimes and, to misquote Paul Simon, you may hear words and see things that you've never read in the Bible. If you get any 'whoah!' moments at any point, just plonk yourself in that green chair and watch the show – that's our safe haven from the carnage, not that we use it very often." "Thanks Lisa, and it's good to know that I can take refuge if I need it. Christ, you've got me wondering what on earth you're going to be doing – I mean how bad can it *be*?" "Don't you mean to say 'what WE are going to be doing'?" she shot back. "Haha, well, of course, everyone can join in, eh? I didn't think I'd led an especially sheltered life until I read up on your press cuttings – and now I know they missed out the best bits! But fuck it, there's every chance that I may never do anything like this again, I mean sex with you, with another woman, with a group, water sports, whatever. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. And I'd hate to be a spoilsport." Lisa grinned broadly and ran one slim foot down the inside of my thigh and down my calf, spreading little pulses of electricity on its way, gently resting her toes on mine. I could feel the tiny edge of her cool toe ring, contrasting with the warmth of her foot. I gave a little sigh of pleasure and encouragement, whereupon she moved my legs up and swivelled herself round so that we were facing each other on the large sofa. Now she stroked both my thighs with her feet, running them slowly down over my knees, along my shins, stroking each ankle in turn with her toes. This was simply the latest in a list of things I had never done – or had done to me – and it was a list that I knew would be further lengthened over the next few hours. I didn't worry. It all felt good, and the last vestiges of any restraint I might still have had ebbed away as she took my left foot and tenderly brought it up to her head, rubbing the sole over her face, kissing it, licking it firmly so that it tickled only slightly and titillated a lot. She kissed each toe in turn, then sucked each one into her mouth, wetting them with her spit. Then she guided my foot down to her breasts, rubbing the wet toes against her puckered nipples. Deciding it was time I was doing something, rather than just letting myself be done to, I moved my right foot down to her pussy, eliciting a shudder from Lisa, which I took to be a sign of approval. She lay right back then, allowing me easier access, and moved her right foot to my pussy and her left to my chest, completing the symmetry. The pad of her big toe rubbed gently against my clit, and I followed her lead, getting wetter and more excited by the moment. I was suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to kiss her, and threw myself on top of her, sealing her lips with mine, our tongues meeting again with a passion. Even though I was fairly well prepared for the evening ahead (or as prepared as I could be for this headlong leap into virgin territory), it would be an understatement to say I was startled by the sound of a throat being loudly cleared and a stage whisper saying "Ooh, maybe we should come back later." It had not occurred to me that Lisa would not bother to lock her door. Even at an orgy, didn't people ring the bell?? I leaped up and turned around. There they were. Véronique and Saeed were standing at the door, looking at us – looking at me, to be precise, they knew Lisa well enough. They both looked to be in their early thirties, roughly halfway between my and Lisa's ages. Véronique was about the same height as Lisa, though fuller figured and with very fair skin and blonde hair; Saeed, by contrast, looked to be of North African origin, with fine, proud features and skin the colour of cappuccino. He was not a big man, but well proportioned. They both had open faces, of the sort that made me feel at ease. That was a major relief. I don't know what I would have done had I not liked the look of either of them. Even though neither of them was wearing much – shorts and t shirts – I became acutely aware that I was naked. It seemed like weeks since I'd worn clothes, and being in the presence of two total strangers was strange and unsettling. The spliff and the wine, thankfully, had taken the edge off my anxiety. Then Lisa broke the silence. "Well are you going to stand there gawping all night? Come and say hello – and get with the program, what's with the clothes, huh?" Lisa stood up and Véronique walked slowly towards her, stripping off her shirt and throwing her arms around Lisa, kissing her twice on each cheek and then on the mouth. Lisa returned the embrace, dropping her hands to Véronique's waist, pushing her shorts to the floor and clasping her beautiful, peach-shaped bottom with both hands. "Hiya sexy, good to see you. This is the lovely Stacey, my guest from England; Stacey, meet the shamelessly filthy Véronique." A handshake would have seemed an absurdly formal greeting, so I followed their example and kissed her in the French style, finishing with a light peck on the lips. "It's a pleasure, Stacey," she said, her voice even huskier than Lisa's, her accent almost a caricature of Sexy Frenchwoman Speaking Ze Eengleesh. I didn't even pretend not to give her the once-over. She had the most exquisite skin, as smooth and flawless as porcelain. Her naked figure was magnificent, more Monroe-esque than either Lisa or me, with curves in all the right places. Her breasts were full and her nipples extraordinarily large. Also by contrast, her pussy was shaved bare, and I spotted a ring through the hood of her clit. Meanwhile, Saeed had divested himself of his clothes and was greeting Lisa as fondly as Véronique had done. As he turned to me, the first thing I noticed was the ring through his left nipple. "Hi Stacey, I'm Saeed – it's a pleasure," he said, his accent not nearly as strong as Véronique's, his voice a melodious low tenor. He too embraced me lightly as we exchanged our greeting kisses. I was acutely aware of feeling the tip of his cock brush against my stomach as he turned away. Having absolutely no idea how an orgy actually got underway (and did four people count as an orgy, I asked myself), I was glad to take a back seat and follow their lead. We all sat on the sofa, Saeed and Véronique in the middle, with me next to Véronique. Lisa re-ignited the spliff and passed it along, pouring wine and water, then pointed a remote control at the stereo; out came the urgent hip-hop shuffle of "In My Bed" by Amy Winehouse. I could tell this was going to be Lisa's homemade carnal compilation. I took a deep toke of the joint and felt just a little more relaxed. Bring it on, I thought to myself. Being pressed against Véronique's body soon began to have an effect on me. I leaned into her more consciously, and moved my left hand to rest it on her upper thigh. She covered it with her hand, and kissed my shoulder, softly, letting her lips linger for a moment, and parting them just enough to touch my skin with the tip of her tongue. I turned towards her and in the same instant she turned to me, our mouths meeting, lips already parted, our tongues ready to play. She was a divine kisser, and I savoured her, opening my mouth wider and wider and pushing my tongue as far into her as I could, pulling her to me with a vigour that startled me. She matched my every movement, working her tongue furiously, little muffled gasps escaping from her every few seconds. I felt her hand on my pussy then, swiftly parting my hair and running along my slit, which opened up instantly, already well moistened with my ardour. I must have totally blocked the other two out of the room for a while, but I then became aware of Saeed's voice, muttering something to Lisa in French which I did not catch. I opened one eye and saw that they were watching us intently. Lisa's hand was on his cock, which was getting hard, while he was stroking her back with one hand and her breasts with the other. The smell of sex in the room was rising and unmistakeable. "You two are so beautiful to look at," Lisa whispered, "you're getting us very hot here..." "Too hot," said Saeed, let's get some space, and give them space, yes?" That last remark sounded so contrived that I realised that it must have been a signal, whether to Véronique and me or to Lisa I couldn't tell at first. He moved to the mat and lay down on his back, propping himself up on his elbows, his erection sticking straight up. Lisa took the bottle of olive oil – "extra-virgin, of course" she announced, straight-faced – and put a small stool on the mat, its legs straddling Saeed's so that when she sat on it she was resting her feet on his hips. She then poured a small amount of olive oil onto each of her feet, and rubbed them together. I realised what she was about to do; Saeed's face was a picture of anticipation, his cock twitching expectantly. Véronique and I disengaged from each other so that we could shift to a more comfortable viewing position, sitting side by side, legs arranged to allow easy access to each other. Lisa now moved her feet forward, keeping them together, and brought them down over Saeed's cock, the tip emerging through the gap formed by her arches. As she twisted her feet slightly to adjust the tightness, Saeed gave a deep moan of pure ecstasy, his eyes closing and his head flopping down to the mat. Lisa's feet were amazingly dextrous, wanking him steadily and relentlessly; then she moved them, so that his cock was now running along the grooves under her toes, one foot on either side of him. His moans increased in frequency and volume. I was consumed by this sight, only dimly aware that my arousal was being compounded by Véronique's fingers, which were now stroking my clit and my labia, which were soaking. I moved my hand down to give her the same treatment, marvelling at the silky smoothness of her shaved cunt, which turned me on even more. Saeed sounded as if he was close to exploding. Lisa had a cherry for the top of the cake, though. "Open your eyes, Saeed, you'll want to see this." His eyes opened slowly, as if he had been jolted out of a reverie; they looked up blearily – then were wide open, staring as the first few drops came out of Lisa, then as her flow strengthened and she could direct it down onto her feet and his cock. He started to talk, but it was in no language I could understand. Lisa continued to piss, her feet slowing down as she sensed his climax approaching, slowing until she was hardly moving them at all, all her toes gripping his cock as tightly as she could. His whole body tensed, then went into a convulsion, his face contorted into what looked like agony and his voice shot up two octaves into a haunted wail, as a thick spurt of spunk shot out of him, straight up and several feet into the air, followed by a few further spurts; it landed on Lisa's feet, on the tip of his cock, on his stomach and thighs. Véronique and I sat and stared in silence, transfixed. Saeed had collapsed completely on the mat, his arms and legs now limp, his eyes closed, an expression of utter bliss on his face. Lisa was breathing heavily, her hands between her legs. She must have finished herself off at some point – my eyes had not been focused on her. Now they were, though. I was about to move, when Véronique slid forward off the sofa and knelt down by Saeed. She leaned down and started to lick the spunk off his stomach and thighs, running her tongue along his flesh in an unashamedly lascivious manner, making little approving moans. I was not going to be a spectator. I moved down to the mat and bent down to Saeed's still hard cock, sucking off the small amount of spunk that had landed on it; then I moved eagerly to Lisa's left foot, the end of which was covered with Saeed's cum. I used my tongue to clean her feet, licking between her toes, where some of the spunk had landed, by now feeling brazen and filthy and even more turned on than I had been yesterday with Lisa. Saeed's spunk tasted fine and funky, and I could also detect the faintly astringent flavour of Lisa's piss. I wanted some more of that now, and I hoped that Lisa had not emptied her bladder, but had saved some for whatever was going to happen next. Once I had cleaned Lisa's feet, I moved up to her pussy and planted a kiss on her clit. She quickly raised herself and got rid of the stool, lying back on the mat and opening her legs for me, an irresistible invitation to lick every inch of her cunt. As I worked away at her, savouring the taste of her, I could tell she was getting closer to her climax. So I slowed down... Once again, I had all but forgotten that there were more than two people there. I was reminded by an unaccustomed and delicious sensation on my anus, a feeling of warmth and wetness that could only mean one thing: at first I couldn't tell who was pissing on me, seconds later, strong hands lifted me up onto one side, to allow Saeed's cock access to my pussy, and when he too started to piss on my clit, I almost came on the spot. This was almost perfect, and I knew how to get it perfect. "Wait just a sec, please," I gasped, "I want yours too Lisa, oh fuck, please, can you give me some, I want all of you together, Saeed, can you do it inside me..." I knew I was babbling, but the message must have got through. Véronique had stopped her flow, and Lisa murmured "don't worry baby, I've got plenty for you, for your sweet mouth." Saeed manoeuvred himself into position and slowly, agonisingly slowly, pushed the end of his cock into my cunt, until he had about three inches inside me. "Now, give it to me, all of you," I cried, burying my face in Lisa's pussy. I felt Véronique's flow first, as I opened my anus as much as I could to feel her piss land in, on and around my hole; then I felt a few drops on my mouth, and opened it to let Lisa's piss hit the back of my throat; then, as I felt someone's hand on my clit, neither knowing nor caring whose it was, I felt a hot jet fill my cunt, causing me to pull Saeed right into me, shooting his hot piss even further inside me. That took me over the edge, not falling over it but leaping off it into an unknown place, as I came with a ferocity I had not believed myself capable of. I didn't recognise the strangled yelp that emanated from my throat, nor the waves of heat coursing through my body, nor the exquisite release of pressure from my pussy, which seemed to make me feel even wetter. I think I did blank out for a few seconds. It was not until several minutes later that I realised that I had actually ejaculated, for the first time in my life. Another phenomenon I had previously only read about, and the night was far from over.