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Charley Rising

By: tiggerlilly



CHAPTER 1 FRESHER'S WEEK

I was really nervous and self conscious. The man at the desk tried to be helpful. "You want to speak to Georgia. She's helping out at the Gay and Lesbian desk. They're a bit under siege, from the religious nutters. I'd keep your hoody up."

Great. I only wanted to join the water polo club. It was my first day at university, and the fresher's fare was a complete crush. I had surprised everybody, including myself, and got a place at Imperial, to study civil engineering.

I soon saw what he meant. The Gay and Lesbian Society had been stuck in a corner, sandwiched between the Christian Fellowship and the Muslim Society. An angry woman accosted me.

"Have you found Jesus?"

"No," I mumbled.

"So, why are you here?"

"Well I don't know. I was hoping to speak to the people at the next desk."

"The Muslims aren't going to talk to you, dressed like that. Or are you one of THEM?"

I was wearing my shortest denim skirt. My legs are my best feature, and I was desperate to distract attention, from my face. Later that day I could not help putting the woman's theory to the test. The Muslim students were absolutely lovely, but pointed out that Islam did not appear to be for me. Nor, I acknowledged, was it honest, to pretend to be one, just to wear a veil.

A pretty Asian woman, with a Brummie accent, put it to me, "Veil and mini skirt, love? I think incongruous is the politest word I can think of."

I could feel the "Christian" woman's eyes boring into my back, as I sat down in front of the spawn of Sodom. Two Goths, who could have been brother and sister, glowered at me. A beautiful woman smiled gently at me.

"I'm looking for Georgia," I mumbled.

"You've found me," the woman purred, her eyes gluing me to my chair.

She had thick, chestnut coloured hair, tucked up and loosely bundled, on top of her head. Her eyes were mid brown, almost golden. She had a strong straight nose, high cheekbones and sensuous lips. Like me, she was wearing little make up. Georgia was wearing a fairly tight pink vest, which emphasized her broad, tanned shoulders. Underneath she seemed to be wearing a sports bra, which flattened her, no doubt magnificent, breasts. Georgia had a small nose piercing and a labret in the centre, just below her lower lip.

"So, you want to joins us. Hence the hoody, no doubt," barked the woman next to Georgia.

The Goth woman was heavily built and scary. She had a lot of piercings.

"Wouldn't want anyone to know your filthy secrets eh, Charley? You forgot to cover your name badge. Not very careful are you?"

How did she know about the abortion? I could feel the tears welling up. I dropped my hood, and showed her my face. Her aggression disappeared.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Georgia touched my hand lightly, and fixed me with her eyes again. Magically, I stopped crying.

"You want to join the women's water polo team, don't you?"

"But. How?"

"Swimmer's shoulders love. Great legs too."

Lady Goth huffed.

"Shit Georgia. Put her down. It's great you helping out, and keeping the homophobic loonies at bay, but..."

"So you're not a lesbian?" I blurted out, subtly.

"Oh yes, she is. You're the fourth svelte nubile, that she's seduced this morning. She's got a girlfriend, for fuck's sake."

Georgia gently stroked the little blonde hairs, on my forearm. She had tiny hands.

"So Charley. Gay, straight, bi, or bi-curious?"

"I...I... don't know." 

At least I was being honest.

"That's OK; you take your time. I'll see you tomorrow, at 3."

"What? You mean a date?"

"No, silly. At the pool. I'll warn you, I'm not gentle."

Both Goths chuckled, and I blushed furiously, and made my exit, pushing past the Christians. I kept my hood down though, and tried to hold my head up.

CHAPTER 2 DUCK, CHARLEY

Some might be surprised that it was not Lydia Cartwright, who tried to kill me, but a 40 year old man, from Blackburn, called Terry Owen. We have never met. A date has yet to be set, for his trial.

I got a summer job at a holiday camp in Bridlington; lifeguard in the day and barmaid at night. The pay was bad, but I managed to do twelve hour days. The outdoor pool was cold and under used. I spent a lot of time staring into space, when I wasn't shouting at badly behaved teenagers, only a few years younger than me. I was mostly ignored. I acquired a great tan.

The Geoffrey Boycott was big and served cheap beer. It had a reputation. They had difficulty recruiting staff. Donna, the manager was a big Geordie, who hated Southerners, like me, but could not afford to be fussy. On day one, she showed me a picture of a stunning blonde.

"This is Tatyana Luschenko; Ukrainian student. She died in my arms, last summer. Stabbed in the chest. Bled to death. Try not to join her."

I was nicknamed Suicide Girl. My job was to roam the tables, picking up empty bottles and glasses, before someone could use them as weapons. Donna had me wear jeans, with a thick belt, lace up boots, sweat shirt and sports bra. I have kept my chaotic, curly hair short for some years.

"You're going to get touched up, kicked, and spat at. No skirts, or crop tops. No necklaces. Get your hair cut a bit shorter, and put gel in it. Gives the slappers less to hang on to. Can you scream? Good. I should be able to get to you in thirty seconds."

14th of August was a Saturday, and the fight broke out at 10:30 pm. The joint was heaving, and I was stranded near the doors. I had just had a difficult negotiation, with a hen-night group, who did not want to hand over their collection of empty Bacardi Breezer bottles. They made some quite hurtful comments about my physical appearance, intelligence, sexual orientation, parentage, and child bearing potential.

As I stood up, with my heavily laden tray, something hit me hard, on my right cheek. I dropped the tray with a crash, put my hand to my face and turned. I assumed that one of the hen-night slappers had, well, slapped me. They were all on their feet, screaming at me. Something hard and sharp stuck in my right hand. I looked and saw a piece of jagged glass sticking out. My boobs felt wet and, looking down, blood was running down my jeans on to the floor. It took me a while to register, that it was my blood. I slipped, in it, and landed flat on my back, winded, on twenty empty alcopop bottles; none of which broke.

I was feeling really cold, and the pain had hit hard. A policeman, in full riot gear, glared down at me. Apparently, the pint glass, which hit me, just in front of my right ear, had been aimed at the police, who were making one of their regular visits. The incredible din, in the pub, seemed to fade, as my field of vision narrowed. Donna appeared, with the first aid kit, and pressed something big and white onto my neck. She had rightly guessed that my severed jugular vein was going to kill me quicker that my slashed face.

Donna seemed really cross, but I think it was fear.

"Charley, you stupid bitch. I told you to look out for flying glasses. Or did I? It's just like the Russian girl. She was dead before the ambulance got here. I'm sure you'll last longer than she did, pet. I've had it. I can't put up with another dead barmaid. They can find another manager."

Events got a bit hazy then. I remember thinking, "I deserve this," but I actually said, "I want my Mum."

I seemed to be picked up, and put in an ambulance, in no time. I was disappointed that the blood loss had not abolished the pain, which was intense. Oh, how I tried to be brave. And failed. Faces kept appearing and disappearing from view. I couldn't remember my date of birth, or where I lived.

Then I was sitting up, apparently half way through a conversation, with a nurse.

"Your mum's here, love. We had to send her out earlier, when she got a bit emotional."

"Charlotte. Oh my God. What have you done? Wasn't nearly drowning, in Sweden, enough?"

My mother is a hopeless snob, and has a harsh, strident voice. She has always pronounced my name "Shar-lot", which is why I prefer Charley.

"Where's Holly?"

"Outside."

"Is she alright? Can I see her?"

"No, not with you looking like that. The poor kid will have nightmares. I don't suppose I'll be getting any grandchildren off of you."

"Mum, I don't understand."

"Your face and neck child. What man would want to marry you now?"

The ward sister intervened.

"Mrs Matthews. That was not helpful. Charlotte ( pronounced correctly) has only just woken up from her anaesthetic. She lost a lot of blood, and frankly, is lucky to be alive. As you can see, her wounds are extensive. We were about to explain it all, to her, and let her look, when she was ready."

Mum glowered. She is a plain talker, who does not appreciate plain talk in return.

"Right then." Sister Davies took a deep breath. "Do you prefer Charlotte, or Charley? OK, Charley, we would normally wait a bit, before doing this. You were hit by a beer glass. It shattered and has cut your face and neck. We have sewn your right ear back on. The cuts are clean, and should heal well. One of our best plastic surgeons did it. You have 240 stitches, love."

She handed me a mirror. I looked, and dropped the mirror. I picked it up again, and gazed at the Bride of fucking Frankenstein.

My mum turned, and walked away, and two nurses, complete strangers, held me, as I bawled like a baby.

CHAPTER3 TAKING THE PLUNGE

Nice pool, I thought. 25 metres; lots of natural sunlight. Soon 16 young women were sat in front of the team coach. I had not been in the water since my injury, and my scars had been passed as strong enough, after two months. Fortunately the normal water polo helmet covered my injured ear, and actually made my scars less visible. It felt good to be able to swim again. 

We were split into two teams. Being left handed, I moved over to the right side of defence, opposite Georgia. True to her word, as I marked her, she rammed an elbow into my ribs, then grabbed my left nipple and twisted. I countered with a knee to the groin, and a head-butt. Soon we were both sin-binned. Georgia gave me a little hug, and sat beside me, pushing her gorgeous, lightly padded, hip, into mine.

After a stern warning, we were allowed back, and succeeded in finishing the game, undisciplined.

I came out of the shower, with a towel wrapped, demurely, around me. Georgia was naked, rubbing her long brown hair vigorously. She had beautiful tawny skin, with a tiny thong tan line. Her breasts were a little larger than mine and her long nipples stood up at a jaunty angle. Her hips were slim, in contrast to her broad shoulders. Her pussy was bald, and I could just see the hood of her clit, which appeared to be pierced. I was trying not to look. Her legs were toned and smooth. 

Gorgeous Georgia.

Hardly surprising, that was her nickname.

"For a shy girl, Charley, you play pretty rough. How's your nip?"

"Sore. How's your fanny?"

"Bit swollen. Wanna kiss it better? Only kidding. God, you really can blush. How about we go back to mine, and I'll cook you tea."

Georgia was clearly not used to taking no for an answer. She had a one bedroom flat, above a Chinese restaurant, which made the flat smell, a bit.

"You get used to it." she smiled, "And the traffic. And the drunken yobs. First time in London?"

"Yes, I'm a bit overwhelmed."

"No offence, Charley, but you permanently look like a rabbit, caught in headlights."

Georgia sat me down, and ran her fingers gently over my scars. She stopped when I winced.

"Sorry babe."

"It's OK. The skin is pretty numb, where little nerves have been cut, and I've got something called allodynia, so even gentle touch hurts."

"Even this?" She gently kissed my neck scar.

"Sorry, but yes."

"How about this?" She kissed the tip of my nose.

"No, that just tickles."

"And this?"

Georgia gently placed her lips on mine, barely brushing them. As if used to this, my mouth opened, and her soft tongue slid inside. It gently explored my mouth, running along my teeth, then hunting down my own inexperienced tongue. My tongue, which had seemingly taken on an identity of its own, wrapped around the slippery serpentine invader, and they began a languid, lingual dance. My tongue followed its little friend back into Georgia's mouth, but I was flagging. My breath had been taken away, and I came up for air. 

Georgia gave me an arch smile.

"Breathe out through your nose."

And then her mouth clamped on to mine, and she resumed her oral conquest, pushing me backwards, until I fell onto her sofa. Georgia grabbed my right boob, through my T shirt and bra, and started slowly kneading it. My moans encouraged her to try lefty too. Georgia deftly unclipped my bra, one handed, and pulled it off, with my T shirt. She sat up and removed her own T shirt. I stared at her fantastic tits, and then surprised myself by leaning forward and taking her left nipple into my mouth. Georgia moaned and pulled on my short frizzy hair. Her nipple was soft and rubbery, and the underlying breast slightly lumpy. I had always thought that mine were abnormal. I decided to check the other one, just in case, and reassuringly it felt, and tasted the same. Shit, this was what I had fantasized about doing to Chloe Braithwaite, my former school friend.

I ran my hands up and down Georgia's silky back, and then shocked myself, by undoing her jeans.

"Not so fast, Tiger," she purred, and pushed me onto my back again, laying her divine body back on top of mine, giving me another snogging lesson, whilst rolling my nipples between her fingers.

Georgia clearly liked to be in control, as she stood up, taking me with her, dropped her jeans and thong, then did the same with mine. She gently nibbled down the left side of my neck, and then I gasped as she slipped a finger inside me. 

I moaned like... like a lesbian ingénue, I suppose. I had a firm bum cheek in each hand, and was not quite sure what to do, apart from gently squeeze.

"Come to the bathroom," she whispered in my ear, "I want to shave you."

I had not done much pube maintenance, since leaving the swimming club in Leeds. In fact I had not been back, since my trophy presentation. Sorry, my presentation as a trophy. A woman used to come in once a month, and wax us all, all over, in a production line. I am actually not that hairy, but my light brown bush had grown a bit unruly. 

Georgia was clearly an expert, and after a trim with electric clippers, had me heated and wetted, in the shower, for five minutes. She kept me company, and nearly performed an amateur tonsillectomy. 

I was a bit dizzy, when she perched me on a towel, on the toilet seat, and covered me in girly shaving foam. Georgia made a show of attaching a clean head to a man's razor. 

"Four blades; cuts close, without burning."

Within a minute I was bald, re-showered and baby creamed. Georgia kissed my mound, and announced herself satisfied.

"Right, Lover. To bed."

Then she stopped, sensing my anxiety.

"Is this OK, Charley? I haven't actually asked, have I? This is your first time isn't it?"

With that, the dam burst. She wrapped me in a towel, put on a short nightie, herself, and took me back to the couch. I told her about the night in Sweden, the abortion, and how I thought that the glassing was just punishment.

"Oh, sweet child, how have you kept that to yourself? Have you told no one?"

"No, I'm too ashamed."

"Who went to the clinic, with you?"

"Nobody. They gave me a tablet; then I bled, and it was done."

"Charley, look at me. You were raped. The older women were accomplices, and so was your coach; the bitch. She had a duty of care."

Georgia was scaring me now. Not for nought, was she destined to be a fiery barrister.

"So you don't hate me?"

"Charley, you are really extremely beautiful, and your vulnerability is quite a turn on."

She kissed me again, tenderly, and let me cry a bit more. I then took the initiative, and slid my left hand under her nightie, and gently rubbed Georgia's slit, whilst snogging her face off.

Georgia laughed.

"Charley Matthews. Are you feeling me up?"

"What if I am? You know you want it. I know what girls like you need."

"Oh yes? You'd better show me then." 

Grabbing my hand, she pulled me into the bedroom. My towel fell off before we got there.

"Lights on, or off?"

"I'm not sure. On. No, off. What's best?"

"Either, darling. Let's compromise, and have the little light on. I think we can navigate pretty well, by touch. 

I don't think my pussy had ever been so moist, and I lapsed into my thickest faux Yorkshire accent.

"Ee, Lass, I'm wetter than an otter's pocket."

"So you are. Now spread those formidable thighs, and let me have a taste."

I gasped, as Georgia licked along my labia and around my tender clit. Sure, I had wanked myself off before, but this sensation was incredible. My pussy felt really empty, then really full.

"Oh my God, what was that?"

"Just two fingers, sweety, now three, and now four. Fuck, you're soaked."

I wasn't really ready to come, but I knew it wouldn't be long.

"Please gorgeous."

"That's my name."

"Can I join in?"

"69? Oh, yeah."

Georgia jumped up, and put on the main light.

"Believe me; it's easier if you can see where you're at. At least until we've got used to each other's bodies. It's probably easier if I'm on top. Do whatever you want. I like to be rimmed."

So maybe this isn't a one night stand, I mused. 

Georgia reversed up the bed before gently lowering her pussy onto my face. She had small brown lips, and smelt of shower gel. Her puckered starfish was quite dark brown. I started to lick around it, and she lifted her head, off my pussy, and shouted, 

"Fuck yes, stick a finger up my arse and fuck me. Hard."

It seemed rude to refuse, so I pressed my left index finger against her anal ring, and in it popped; up to the knuckle. I pulled out and pushed back in. Her pussy lips were covered in cream, and I tried to replicate what Georgia was doing to me. Georgia was rocking at the hips, and I was having difficulty remaining attached to her magnificent muffin. I had her clit ring, in my mouth, and I was afraid I might pull it off.

Even worse; I was going to come. I couldn't help myself and screamed up her vagina, lest I disturb the neighbours. 

That seemed to work well, as Georgia released my quivering, spent quim and shouted, "Oh God, Charley, I'm almost there. Suck my clit, baby. Oh shit, oh fuck, yes."

It was early, and the diners downstairs did not want the Sound of Orgasm added to the muzak, so Georgia used my sopping snatch as a "come- muffler".

She scooted up the bed, and pinned me down, by the wrists. Her eyes seemed to be on fire, and she kissed me hard, on my cum soaked lips. We were both breathing quickly, and were sweaty, and slippery, and happy.

"No don't," she said, but it was too late. I was already crying like a girl. I am a girl. Tears of joy this time.

"Wow, you were fantastic; even for a first timer."

"Have you really got a girlfriend?"

"No, we split three months ago. Would you like to be my girlfriend, Charley? You don't have to come out. I can be really discreet. And monogamous."

"Yes please." I blubbed. "And I want the world to know. I can't wait to tell my mum. Holly thinks I'm gay anyway, and has been trying to out me, since I was 16."

"Great. Now we are so sweaty, let's trib."

"Eh?"

"Lift your left leg, and let me slide up your right one, until we kiss with our lower lips. I hope you don't mind toe sucking. Do exactly as I do."

Oh yes, it was good. And so followed my first multiple orgasm. But not my last. 

Charley Rising: Next Morning



CHAPTER 1

06:00.

That's what the clock radio said. That was OK. I am an early riser.

Shit.

I don't have a clock radio. Where was I? Clearly not in my own bed. And whose hand was gently squeezing my right boob? Presumably the same person who was attached to my back, bum, thighs and calves. And was breathing, ever so slowly, into my neck.

I thought I had woken from a really vivid and dirty dream, but, no that really was last night, and my memory was vivid and oh so dirty. I was in another woman's bed. With another woman. Naked. My fantasies had never extended to the morning after.

Gorgeous Georgia.

She had virtually swept me off my feet. And made love to me. I had become a woman. I suppose. No; probably not.

What was I to do? I did nothing, as was my wont. The alarm went off at 06:30. Georgia leaned across me and switched it off, unfortunately releasing my boob, which felt really lonely. The bedside light came on, and I felt more orientated. Then she was gone.

I rolled over just in time to catch her tanned, heart shaped arse disappearing to the bathroom. I was busting. I hobbled to the bathroom, one hand over my groin and my other arm clutched across my chest. I heard the toilet flush and Georgia emerged beaming at me.

"Hi, lover. Charley. Stand up straight and put your hands behind your back. You've got nothing to hide. Well, maybe you have," she growled, licking her lips, "But it certainly should not be hidden from me. Go on, before you wet the carpet."

I walked back into the bedroom, with my head, sort of held high. I was used to being naked around other women, but context is everything, and I felt really awkward still.

Georgia placed a finger between her thighs, then sniffed it, and pulled a face.

"Week old tuna. Let's shower."

Georgia shared my slight obsession with personal hygiene, and lukewarm water. It was wonderful, washing with another woman, and she showed me how to do the slippery shower samba. Followed by the fluffy towel foxtrot. And finally drying and brushing Georgia's hair, which was sensual rather than sexual.She had a large supply of spare toothbrushes.

I had not arrived equipped for a sleep over, and Georgia dug me out a T shirt and black thong. Then a quick cup of tea, and back to the pool for twenty lengths. Being gorgeous required maintenance. Suited me fine; although my enforced absence, from the water, really showed. I was so slow. The pool did not have a diving platform, which I found strangely reassuring.

We had breakfast, in the university canteen. A steady stream of students passed by, all waving at Georgia; some stopping for a chat, or just a kiss. They all eyed me up. Some smiled, some scowled, and a few laughed. A few comments were passed. Georgia just smiled beatifically, her hand on my thigh.

Then she whispered in my ear, "Where do you want it?"

"What?"

"The tattoo."

"What tattoo?"

"G.C. My mark of ownership. I like it somewhere visible, like a shoulder blade."

I spat cornflakes across the table.

Tears ran down Georgia's face.

Gorgeous Georgia. It was difficult to get annoyed with her. Much as she tried to provoke it. Gorgeous was not so much a nickname, as a mission statement, and she liked to share her gorgeousness with others. She could not always decide if she was woman, goddess, or girl. Her self confidence, and charm, was legendary. As was her ability to wound, casually. I had a strong suspicion that I was a charity case and had already had my one taste of the Gorgeous Gash.

We went our separate ways, for the day, with no mention of meeting later. I had a busy day, navigating the university, both physically, and intellectually. This only partly distracted me from my yearning, and emptiness. My utter naïveté was letting me down. I had never had a girlfriend before, or a boyfriend, really. What would a "normal" person do? I didn't even have her phone number. How stupid was I?

The previous two years, had really been pretty grim.

I had always been a Daddy's girl, and I was devastated when he ran of with a floozy. Turned out they had been having an affair for ten years. She's not even that good looking. I still blame myself. Maybe I could have done something better. Maybe if I had not spent most of my adolescence sulking, or rowing with my mum, Dad would have been happier. He has cut us off completely. As you know, I hated the move to Yorkshire. I never made any real friends, and really struggled with my growing realisation, that I was gay. I could not tell anyone. I wanted to be straight. I went out with a couple of boys, but neither "relationship" lasted more than four weeks. I was always home by 11. I was never a true teenage rebel; just a mouthy one. I let the boys snog me. Badly. And even a couple of gropes up my jumper. I drew the line at an attempted hand up the skirt.

Most of the girls, in my class, hated me, and my apparent frigidity just confirmed their suspicions. I was called a dyke, but only as part of their general abuse, and bullying. Rather they thought I was too snooty for Yorkshire lads. I threw myself into my water polo and diving. Probably an appropriate turn of phrase, in light of the disaster in Stockholm. I also studied really hard, and got four A grades at A level.

Then, in August, I got glassed; and became Charley, Scarface, Matthews.

Lectures finished at 5pm and I returned to my little room in the halls of residence. It was clean, and warm, but impersonal. I could not complain, though. I was living in one of the most expensive boroughs, in London, and paying peanuts in rent.

My flatmates were a gregarious bunch, and as excitable as you might expect of a bunch of overachieving eighteen year olds, who were away from home, for the first time.

"Hi, Charley." Burbled Chloe. "Why the long face? And where were you last night?"

Oh shit. A new mother.

"Give me your mobile. Wow, an antique"

With practised skill, Chloe opened my phone, then her own, and swapped the SIM cards, pressed some buttons, then returned the devices to their former state.

"London's a big scary place, girl, and you're not exactly street wise. Next time you have some overnight fun, send one of us a text. We're off to the pub later. You're coming too."

A trip to the pub. What could possibly go wrong?

CHAPTER 2

Quite a lot as it turned out. I had not been inside a pub, since I was carried out of the Geoffrey Boycott on a stretcher. Never a drinker, I had been avoiding pubs, bars and restaurants. And had not even noticed.

The Cricketers was a student pub, cheap and nasty, with rude staff. Not that I ever got close enough, to the bar, to find out. The pub was not that crowded. The fear rolled over me in a massive wave. I was drowning. I tried to turn and run, but I couldn't move. My new friends stared at me. They had become the drunken women, in the Geoffrey Boycott, and I could hear their screams. I could hear nothing else. Every nerve in my right cheek, started firing. The pain was intense.

Then.... I was sitting on my bed, in my little room, and she was there, body pressed close against me, doing her trick, of stroking my little arm hairs. Her other hand was on my bare right thigh.

"Charley, darling, it's alright. You had a little turn, that's all."

"How did I get here?"

"Me and your little friends. I was having a pint, when you came in. Nobody knew what to do, so I told them that I am your partner, and to help get you home."

I blushed, as usual. "Where are my jeans? And my thong?"

"In the wash. You had a little accident."

I just blushed more, the heat spreading down my neck, onto my chest.

"How often do you get them?"

"Sorry, I don't understand. I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I was sympathy shag."

"You are certainly hard work. Flashbacks. You've got PTSD, right?"

"No. I don't know. What's that?"

"Post traumatic stress disorder. My dad has it. Gas platform explosion. You've probably heard of it. Mum was pregnant with me. He was badly burned too. That's why your face doesn't bother me. You just don't know how lovely you are. You're going to start crying again, aren't you?"

Just then Chloe's face appeared, around the door, looking concerned.

"Anything I can do?"

"Sure, darling, run us a bath."

Chloe was temporarily speechless. "Bubbles?"

"Oh yes. That would be lovely."

Georgia did not bother shutting the door, before stripping me, and wrapping me in my biggest bath towel; tucking it in really tight. Then she grabbed one that would cover either her tits, or her fanny, and marched me, blushing, to the bathroom.

"Hi, ladies," she purred, to the curious throng, "Can anyone lend me a sponge? I can keep it? You're so kind."

I was slightly surprised, when Georgia locked the bathroom door.

"No threesomes tonight, Charley."

"But....."

"That Chloe girl would be in your knickers, in a flash. It's OK. I don't mind you experimenting. As long as you come home to me."

I was speechless, again, as she undid my towel. Perhaps, I thought, some time that night, I might string another sentence together.

"Shared a bath before?"

"Yes, I have actually; with my sister."

Nailed it! Seven whole words.

A gorgeous eyebrow rose.

"I was four."

And then the gorgeous smile.

"I'll get in first, and take the tap end. Ouch! Hot, hot, hot."

The gorgeous tanned knees poked through the bubbles, making it clear that I was to slide in between. The water was hot, and made my pussy tingle.

"I'm going to sit on your feet, or rather one foot at a time. Now raise your left leg."

Georgia took my left foot in her hand, and rubbed it with the soapy sponge. My foot had developed a direct connection with my pussy, and I gasped, as she sucked my toes, one by one. Next she ran the sponge up to my knee, then back down my calf, all the time fixing me with her amber eyes; her lips ( gorgeous of course) slightly parted. My left foot was then parked under Georgia's right buttock, and the five little piggies, on my right foot, were sent to market.

I tried my sexiest deep voice.

"Can I have a go?" I squeaked.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Washing Georgia, in the shower, had been exciting. This was exquisite. I instantly forgot my dislike of feet, and gave each little digit my fullest oral attention. Georgia's head tilted back and she took a deep sigh, her erect nipples peaking out through the suds.

I moved on to her lower legs, then taking the initiative, to her tawny thighs. Front. Back. Outside. Up. Down. Then, dropping the sponge, the inside; slowing as I approached her vulva. Georgia's feet pushed under my buttocks, as she lifted her pelvis.

I moved up to her deliciously wrinkled belly, and she smiled archly.

"I hope you didn't do this with your sister."

I was using both hands now, all the better to lather her magnificent globes. I leaned forward and took a rubbery nipple in my mouth. Georgia moaned and ran her slippery hands up and down my back and sides, from hip to armpit. I am incredibly ticklish, and gave Georgia's right nipple a really hard nibble. Water started sloshing over the side of the bath, as I shook. Georgia silenced me with her velvet lips, and searching tongue. I had got the breathing thing right, and the kiss went on forever, whilst the sponge touched everything I had.

All except my scarred face, and neck.

"You had better do that," she said; her face tender and concerned.

"No, please. You do it. Press fairly hard. It didn't hurt at all; but I started to blub again.

"Come on Scarface, let's get you dried."

Chloe ignored us, as we padded down the corridor, trying not to giggle too much.

Georgia rummaged in my drawers and was soon wearing a plain white T shirt and knickers. She did not look demure. She never does.

"Pre-coital cup of tea, I think." And she was off to the kitchen.

I was feeling quite risqué, and I was only wearing pink knickers when Georgia came back, my pale pointy tits on display to the whole world. Well, just her really. Georgia, a woman of independent means, eventually cured my nudity difficulty, by paying for me to attend a tanning salon. I felt less self conscious with an all over tan. Now, I don't care.

Georgia had seduced a packet of biscuits off one of the straight girls. I was going to need the energy. Dunking each other's biscuits. What a delightful form of foreplay.

Soon I was on my back, on my tiny single bed, with Georgia between my thighs. She soon made sure there was no biscuit stuck to my teeth, and I moaned loudly as two fingers entered my vagina.

Georgia broke free, and whispered, in my ear. "Try to be quiet. Your neighbours will tolerate you being a lesbian, but not a noisy one. These walls are really thin."

Clearly the voice of experience. And someone experienced in love making, in confined spaces. She quickly sat me up and, legs wrapped around each other, we engaged in slow mutual masturbation. I let Georgia set the pace and just copied every movement. My tighter pussy was compensated for by her really small fingers. We fitted better if we both used our right hands. Georgia sped up, and I followed, as her pelvic muscles tensed. My back wanted to arch, but she held me tight, and thrust her tongue deeper into my mouth. I think we came together. My body was hers. Georgia released me, when my pelvis had stopped bucking.

I was feeling really tired, but satiated. Georgia had me get up, then lie down , on top of her, our legs slightly scissored; our noses millimetres apart.

"Haven't slept in one of these for ages. It could be a bumpy night. There's something about you Charley. You're the one. I don't know how I know. I just do. It's more than just protectiveness. Anyway, you just need a little self confidence. That wasn't a charity fuck. We are going to the medical centre tomorrow, to get you referred to a psychologist. Have you got a lawyer? Silly girl; how are you going to get compensation? My professor owes me a favour or too. Yes I did suck him off, once or twice. Don't be shocked. I knew what I was doing."

Georgia usually did know what she was doing. Over the next few weeks I met all of her friends, and even her parents. My mum predictably disowned me, but Holly, my little sis, was delighted.



Charley Rising:Ten Years On



CHAPTER 1

I was having a really shitty day. My job can be really shitty. Most of the time I enjoy it, but that day, I had been up to my neck in shit. Like most engineers I spend most of my time in front of a computer, but some days you have to get your hands dirty. Shit happens, and Victorian sewers burst and collapse. Shit certainly happened that day. The River Thames is one of the cleanest, capital city, rivers in the world, and part of my job is to keep it that way. I had not meant to fall in, and my crew whipped me out pretty fast, before I swallowed any. I came out with a loud squelch, my expensive wellies lost forever. But I was covered. It was in my hair, my nose and my ears, and I suspected, my pussy.

I didn't cry. My major blubbing days are, mainly, behind me. I stripped naked, despite the bitter wind, and ten men watching me, and got under the "shit shower", attached to our mobile unit. A thin screen offered me a tiny bit of dignity. When covered from head to toe in shit, being naked is simply not an issue. The boys, bless them, formed a defensive wall in front of me. They were totally inured to the stink. I was not quite so, and Georgia would probably not touch me for days. I have a supply of really cheap T shirts, and knickers, for shitty jobs, and a clean change were waiting in the van.

The breach was plugged, and a million fish did not die. Job done.

As I stood on the bus, I could hear sniffing and shuffling behind me. I bet I still had some sewage, in one of my ears. I got off, a mile from home, and walked in the icy rain.

Shit, I thought, and stifled a giggle, she's home early.

"Hi, honey. You looked like a drowned rat."

Georgia hugged me, and stepped back, nose wrinkled.

"And smell like one. Unclean. Dirty bitch. Don't move."

She rushed to the kitchen and returned with a bin bag, and the Sunday paper.

"Strip, bog monster."

"But, I just need to redo my ears. My body's OK...ish. You are not throwing out my favourite suit. Get a separate bag. It can go to the dry-cleaners."

Georgia walked up the stairs in front of me, dropping sheets of newspaper, and heaving.

As I got into the shower, I invited her to join me. I still love shower sex.

"No fucking way, Shitgirl. And get that pussy clean; you know where we are going tonight."

Slightly deaf and raw, I emerged five minutes later.

"Touch your toes."

And she sniffed me, like a dog.

"Now, who's the dirty bitch?" I asked coyly. I was getting moist.

"Get back in the shower, Charley, and turn it cold. We are not going out with you on heat."

"I'm supposed to be on heat, stupid."

I was trying to distract myself, from what was going to happen later. I was scared and just a little humiliated, and the animal images kept going through my head. Georgia was going to take me to be inseminated; made pregnant; knocked up. Like a prize mare.

CHAPTER 2

We arrived at the clinic early.

I had a sudden pain, in my right side. I winced and Georgia frowned.

I just smiled. "Mittelschmirz. A good omen." I get ovulation pain most months. Georgia never has.

Two other women were waiting, at the clinic. I guessed that the crop haired woman, who glared at us, aggressively, wasn't the hopeful mum. Or maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Georgia knew them somehow, but not in a friendly way. She does a lot of pro bono work, for a charity that supports victims of domestic abuse.

Georgia couldn't help herself, and glowered back.

The plain, slightly plump, woman, started to cry, and I waited for the earth to swallow me.

I had surprised myself, when Georgia had asked me what I wanted for my 27th birthday.

"A baby." I blurted out.

And so, nine months later, here we were, for my second intrauterine injection of donor sperm. Kindly provided by Georgia's gorgeous brother; Michael Clarke, QC. We had seriously considered being "done" together. Obviously Georgia would need somebody else's sperm, and I didn't have a brother. Her career trajectory was becoming stratospheric, and she would likely be called to the bar, in the next twelve months. Georgia, two years my senior, had overcome enormous prejudice, as an openly gay, barrister, and would have loved to appear in court; as a gowned lesbian, with a bump.

She wasn't ready for motherhood. She was going to find parenthood difficult. I was ready. I had grown up. Dr Charley Matthews. I have a PhD in hydraulic engineering, and work, for a large water company. Mainly in sewage. Well someone has to.

It was soon our turn. I put on my gown, got on the couch, and put my feet in the stirrups. Georgia had returned to goddess mode, and held my hand, gently crooning in my ear. The procedure took minutes, and was painless. Then we were driving home. I could feel the fear grow.

As soon as we got in, Georgia grabbed me and kissed me, fiercely. But it was not enough to prevent the flashback. To my first insemination. I was, again, an eighteen year old virgin; raped in a Swedish hotel room; mounted like an animal; too petrified to resist. I must have dissociated, as next thing I knew, I was in bed, in a nightie, with my head on Georgia's bounteous chest.

"That was a long one kid."

"Sorry." I whimpered. "I love you so much. Make love to me Gorgeous."

"Will it be safe?"

"Yes. I asked, this time. As long as you don't poke anything inside my cervix, it'll be fine. Given your freakishly small hands, that won't be a problem."

"Better than your two great shovels. No wonder you're a shit slinger."

I so hoped that the millions of sperm, were doing their thing. I wanted to remember that night fondly. I hoped that remembering Georgia, and me, entangled, would block the bad memory.

The Gorgeous One was of course naked. I flicked off the duvet and admired her body. She had barely aged, in ten years, or so it seemed. Some pretty wrinkles around her eyes, older woman's elbows and knees, and a slight tummy, which I loved to nuzzle. We both still swam, almost daily. Georgia's 36C breasts were still of pornographic excellence. She put her arms up, and stretched. I slowly licked up the side of her left breast, and tickled her left armpit, with my tongue, tasting the slight salt there. We both had a hang up over body smells, which always made early morning sex less than spontaneous, in that it always occurred in the shower. Or rather started there. It could end anywhere. I simply adored Georgia's clean smooth armpits. I moved over to a long, stiff nipple, and rolled it around, with my tongue. She moaned and stroked my untidy, curly blonde hair. Slowly; almost sending me to sleep. This was going to be languorous loving, not slammed against the shower wall, urgent kissing, hard finger thrusting, love biting, back clawing, desperate sex, that was our morning routine.

I moved over two Georgia's right nipple, and shamelessly groped her left breast. She liked to have them squeezed hard; much harder than I could ever tolerate. My left hand drifted downwards to Georgia's soft bald mound. Her pelvis rose, as a reflex action, but I moved up to her belly, stroking and feeling the muscles quiver. Her pussy was going to have to wait.

I sat up and peeled off my nightie. Georgia smiled, then bared her teeth, and hissed at me; feral now. She sat up and I tilted my head to the left. I shivered slightly; that little bit of fear, which never left me. Ever so gently Georgia bit me on my neck, sucking my longest scar into her mouth. This was an exercise in trust. The skin was both slightly numb, and extra sensitive. Too light a touch hurt as much as too hard. Just the right amount sent little electric shocks, dancing up into my face. Pleasure, which only Georgia could give to me. When I touch my neck, it always hurts, and Georgia has been my one and only lover, so I do not know if anybody else could do it. Nor do I intend to find out. She then moved up and did the same to my face. I have six pale scars on my right cheek. They could have been drawn on by a small child. I refuse to hide them, with either my hair, or make up. Nor would Georgia let me.

Finally she nibbled my tiny right earlobe. My right ear had been sliced off completely, and sewn back on; and has the least sensation of all. I shivered when she poked her tongue gently into my ear hole. Later she would do the same to my left ear, which would turn on a mysterious tap in my pussy, and I would flood. My right ear was no longer connected, to there, unfortunately. I gently pulled away.

"What about when I'm fat and ugly?"

"You're incapable of ugliness, Charley."

"I'll soon be a whale, with piles, varicose veins, stretch marks, and tits around my knees. And somebody else will have first call on those tits."

"I certainly hope so. I've seen how people stare at your face. They often ask me. The better ones admire you. But they still don't see what I see. Charley, it was you who changed me from a very naughty girl, into a slightly naughty woman. You'll be a fantastic mum. And so will I."

Tears were running slowly down Georgia's sculpted cheeks; a very rare occurrence indeed.

It had taken me a long time to realise that being a goddess was a gift, and a curse.

I leaned forward and kissed her lightly. Forehead. Nose. Lips. My tongue was invited in, and made its customary inspection, of its little friend's wet, warm home. Everything seemed in order, and Georgia's tongue gracefully accepted the offer of a dance. We had named them. My tongue was Ginger; Georgia's was Fred, and they slipped into their familiar routines, ones they never tired of. Fred was soon keen to check Ginger's domestic hygiene, and I hope he was satisfied. Especially as he had visited but a few hours earlier.

I was happy to leave my tongue to its own devices, semi autonomous organ that it was, and get to grips with my favourite part of Georgia's body.

Georgia, being a goddess, could read my mind, and was letting me take the lead, sensing my need.

Georgia had taught me the tongue in ear trick (well, who else would?) and she responded in exactly the same way. That night there was no need. Her quim was soaking. Pity that I had changed the sheets that morning. She snorted, as I stroked, up and down her slit. I was tempted to ask Fred and Ginger to stop dancing, but decided against it. Ginger would be performing a different dance pretty soon. I soon found Georgia's hard pierced clit, and rolled it with my thumb, and finally slipped two, apparently huge, fingers into my lover's pussy. She snorted, even louder. Fred bowed, to applause, and went home. Our lips parted.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Charley, your fingers are like a cock. Only better. Fuck me harder. Stick three in. Yes. Yes, oh my God, I'm gonna burst."

I slipped down the bed and settled between Georgia's powerful thighs, seasonally pale and interesting. Ginger had changed out of her dancing clothes, and donned her wetsuit, in preparation for some hydraulic engineering. Georgia had clearly sprung a leak, and three fingers in the dyke, were just making it worse. She did not seem to notice my massive snort, at my own bad pun.

Ginger Rogers went to work with gusto, presumably thinking that Georgia's clitoris was some sort of stop cock. She was evidently turning it the wrong way. I think my tongue should really be named Fred, as its reaction to Georgia's vaginal tidal wave was, like a man, just to persevere with its failed strategy.

Georgia's back arched and her pelvis bucked hard, squashing my nose, and making me sneeze. Her pelvic floor contracted so hard that my fingers were ejected, with a slurpy pop.

Georgia flopped back down, then grabbed my hair and yanked me, roughly, back up the bed. She gripped my head, with both hands, and kissed me fiercely. Fred had also changed, and was ready for a vigorous game of tonsil tennis. This always made me gag, a bit. Ginger finally sent him home, and shut the door.

"I thought you were the one having the baby?" said Georgia.

"Are you going to take me, then, like a big butch dyke? Shaft my delicate fem muffin?"

I pushed my knees firmly together, and crossed my arms, over my small boobs.

"Please don't be rough with me, George."

The goddess just laughed, her eyes twinkling. Georgia has never used toys with me. What she did with other women, was her business. She has got more faithful, if anything, over the years.

Georgia loved arse play. And tribbing. She was a tribbing athlete.

Within seconds we were locked; bald, wet pussy, to bald, wet pussy, lips squelching against each other. Georgia maintained that our labia were mirror images of each other. I didn't care, as I sucked on her big toe, and ground to Georgia's rhythm. I had a brief twinge of fear, as if a flashback was approaching, but it was actually a fucking enormous orgasm, rolling in from some distant shore, gaining height, and crashing over me. I had to let go of Georgia's toe.

"Yes, you fucking goddess. You've fucked me good. I'm going to have our baby."

CHAPTER 3

And so I am. Damned soon. I don't have varicose veins, but I do have piles, stretch marks and cartoon sized breasts. I feel like a whale. 

The contractions are now five minutes apart.

Georgia has just gone downstairs, to let the midwife in.

Home birth? Yes.

Water birth? I'm a hydraulic engineer. No way. Leave that to the whales.