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The Kat Who Licked The Cream Ch. 01

By: Sapphos Sister



Before meeting Samantha, I had never expected to fall in love with a girl. 

We met in The Crown. It was a few weeks after Mark and I had finished, and I didn't know then that she had known Mark too. She was with her friends and I was with mine. I liked Sam as soon as I saw her. It wasn't a sexual thing. Not at first. She just looked like the kind of girl you'd want to have as a friend. She was playing pool -- really badly -- and was having fun, laughing a lot. Even then her laugh gave me goosebumps. I can picture her now. She was wearing baggy harem pants -- red they were -- with baseball boots and a sort of smock with a waistcoat. I know it sounds revolting but on her it looked really fetching. Most things do. As ever, she didn't have a bra on and through the sheer fabric of her smock I could make out the swell of her small breasts under her waistcoat. When she stood up straight, her nipples dimpled the smock provocatively. Alright, I did sort of fancy her, but I wouldn't have done anything about it, not at that time. 

Our two groups got talking together and I ended up in conversation with her -- we were trying to save the planet, I think. I was lost in her eyes, those deep whirlpools. When she said she wanted some fresh air I went outside with her. I can still taste that first kiss. It didn't seem shocking at all to kiss a woman. The only shocking thing was how normal it felt. She pushed me up against the wall and kissed me again. Her leg was between my own, her groin pressing against mine. I didn't want her lips to leave my mouth. 

Then two guys came out for a smoke. At first I think they assumed I was being kissed by a boy because Sam had short, blondy hair -- it's a bit longer now -- but when she turned and smiled at them, they were stunned -- and delighted, of course. Sam grabbed my hand and, giggling, dragged me out into the street. 

'How far is it to your place?' she asked, stifling her laughter. 

'Around the corner,' I said reluctantly, suddenly having second thoughts. 

'Come on,' she ordered and led me down the street, hand-in-hand. Almost as an afterthought, she said, 'You do want to go to bed with me, don't you?' 

'I've never done it with a girl before,' I said. 

'Really!' she exclaimed. 'Oh, I do love seducing virgins.' I must have looked petrified because she stopped and, stroking my cheek, said, 'Don't worry, Kat. It'll be fun. Honest. I'm very good.' 

I believed her. It's just that it seemed so complicated. As if one day I'm white, and then suddenly I'm black. 

But then she stopped, looked me straight in the eye and announced, 'I wanted you as soon as I saw you in the bar. You were the most gorgeous one there. Girls or boys. I couldn't wait to kiss you. I just had to get you outside.' I laughed and then we kissed again. It was one of those long, squirmy kisses that dry your throat and wet your pussy and seem to last forever. That's when I realised how much I wanted her. 

By the time we reached my flat, we were all over each other and, once I'd unlocked the front door, we almost fell through it. 

'Wow,' she exclaimed when she saw my sitting room. 'You read a lot, don't you?' 

There are bookshelves all along the walls, filled with books and magazines and stuff I need for my work. Sam started checking out the titles, saying, 'Oh, I've read this,' and 'I've heard of that -- is it good?' 

I was confused. Being nervous, I thought that we would go straight to bed and get on with it, not have a literary discussion. But she was engrossed. 

'Can you get me a drink, love? White wine would be nice,' she demanded, pulling down an old edition of Lady Chatterley's Lover. 

'Oh, Constance, may I introduce you to John Thomas?' she mimicked in an absurd Northern voice as I was pouring the wine. I laughed and handed a glass to her. As I did so, she held my hand within hers. 'Or maybe you would prefer some pussy pie?' Her eyes held mine as tightly as her hand. My stomach was in a turmoil of desperate wanting and nervous apprehension. Then, we kissed again and the glass of wine spilled down my front. 

'Oh, shit!' I exclaimed. 

'Sshhh,' she whispered and, lowering her face to my bosom, sucked the wine from the fabric of my tee shirt. She cupped my breast with her free hand and squeezed it exploratively. I could feel the nipple pressing against my bra. 

'Mmmm. Boys must love your tits. They're such a nice size.' She raised her glass to her lips and took a long draught of wine. Then, as she kissed my parted lips, she opened her mouth and emptied the wine into my own, drenching our chins. We lapped at each other thirstily. 

She grasped my hair and, bending my head back, rasped in the huskiest of tones, 'Soon that will be our cum, darling.' All my senses were on fire, issuing little eddies of pleasure through my veins to my groin. 

She took the glass from my hand and set it down beside her own. Then she hauled my tee shirt over my breasts, and up and over my head. 

'Oh God,' I moaned as she shed her waistcoat and pulled off her smock. Her hair flopped across her face, her waif-like beauty was utterly stunning. 

She moved my hand to her breast and tentatively I ran my fingers over the nipple. It was livid-pink and tensely taut. 'Your tits are nice too,' I whispered, feeling incredibly daring. They were small and firm, the rosy aureoles as tempting as the first strawberries of summer. 

She seemed to contemplate them. 'Yes, they are, aren't they?' She parted my fingers, so that they were scissoring her nipple. 'Do you want to suck them?' 

'Come on,' she said and, stepping back so that she was against the bookshelves, she tucked the wayward strands of hair behind my ears and drew my mouth to her breast. I bent to take it in. The nipple pressed against my lips. I flicked my tongue across it and it seemed to harden yet more. I sucked in as much of her as I could, gorging and slurping over her. I loved the taste of her -- so foreign and wildly exotic to me then. 

'Go on. Bite me,' she demanded. So I did, but gently. Nipping and nibbling her, licking and sucking, gorging upon one nipple and then the other. 

'Now under my arms,' she whimpered. 'I like that a lot.' I was surprised because I'm so sensitive there. Nevertheless, I stretched her long, lithe arms above her head. Her armpits were hairless, the skin pale. Dipping my head, I stretched out my tongue and lapped at her armpit. Must and scent mingled in the most womanly aroma. 

'Oooooooooh,' she cooed. 'That's it. Yes.' 

Then I raised my mouth to her neck and bit, and she gasped and arched her belly against me. Her hands, now kneading my ass through my jeans, swept up my spine and effortlessly undid my bra. She pushed me away from her, drew the bra straps off my shoulders and discarded it at our feet. 

She framed my face in her hands and held my gaze for moments that seemed as long as aeons. 

'Do you know what pussy tastes like?' she murmured. 

I said nothing but I could feel my own sex weeping into my panties. 

'Salted honey,' she breathed. 'Haven't your boyfriends ever told you that?' 

I shook my head, mesmerised. My hands, damp with perspiration, clutched her hips. 

'My pussy is all for you, Kat. I want you to eat me out. And when you're done, I want to taste my cum on your lips. And then I'm going to go down on you, and my fingers and lips and tongue will give you the most intense orgasm you have ever known. Is that what you want, my darling?' 

'Yes,' I groaned. My voice sounded distant and not my own. 

'Is that what you crave?' 

'Yes, yes,' I repeated. 

'Is that what you need? To fuck and be fucked by a woman?' 

'God. Please. Yes.' 

'That's what I thought,' she said and began to unclasp my jeans. 

I've never been as hungry for any man as I was for this woman. Desire, curiosity, excitement and nervousness combined in a soup of emotions that prickled my every sensibility. 

I leant on her shoulders as she tugged at my jeans and pulled them over my feet. Now she was on her knees. 

She drew her finger down the front of my panties, tracing the line of my slit. I shivered involuntarily and she smiled. 'I don't want to see your pussy yet,' she said. 'I'm saving that for later.' Then, she sucked on her dampened finger. 

'Mmmm,' she mewed. 'You really are going to be delicious.' 

She climbed back to her feet and drew me to her. One hand was around my neck and the other inside the back of my panties, stroking the cleft between my buttocks. Her mouth was nuzzling my ear. When she spoke, her voice sounded gravelly. 

'I bet you've got a lovely, tight pussy, haven't you?' My heart was in my mouth. 

She pushed me away from her and held me at arm's length by the shoulders. A kittenish smile played across her face as she glanced down at her pants. I was in awe of her lovely slim torso in those stupid red, baggy pants. She really was gorgeous. 

'Are you going to leave me like this? I said I want my pussy licked.' 

I slipped my hand inside her pants and eased them over her delicious butt and, dropping to my knees, slid them down her yet more delicious legs. Kneeling before her, I laid my cheek against her crotch. Her own skimpy panties were damp with desire. 

'Lick me through my panties,' she commanded. 'I like that.' 

I was uderstandably hesitant. Samantha had probably fucked more girls than I had kissed boys. And this was so alien to me. I was desperate not to disappoint her. Then, it all seemed so obvious: I would do to her everything that I had ever prayed a boy to do to me. 

I turned my face into her groin and gnawed at her gently through the damp fabric. I could taste her on my teeth. Now it was her turn to shiver delightedly. 

'Mmm. Yes. Go on. Lick me.' 

Less than three hours had passed since I had met this woman -- and here I was stooped at her feet, bathing in the scent of her pussy and lapping at her like a kitten with a bowl of cream. I tongued at her panties until they were so sodden that the line of her slit was distinct through the cotton. I pulled them from her soaked skin between my teeth and hooked my fingers in the waistband. Then I drew them down. Slowly, so slowly. 

Such unadorned beauty I beheld. Her mound was as smooth as alabaster. The swollen lips were neatly furled and glistened with her juice and my saliva. 

Now no longer was Samantha the dominatrice, but a slave to her own needs. 

'Please don't make me wait,' she begged. 

But I did. I laid a trail of gossamer light kisses along the inside of her silky right thigh, from the knee to her groin, and then up over her mound. My lips barely touched her taut skin. My fingertips brushed up the backs of her legs. 

'God, that's wonderful!' she exclaimed. 

Then, my kisses graced her left thigh, up and up and up until again I was kissing her pelvis. Back to her right leg, the kisses only a little harder, my fingers still sweeping up her slim, supple thighs. Then the left, then the right, and the left again. Each time the kisses, moister and firmer, my hands more insistent. Now I was licking up and down her thighs in long, wet strokes and my fists were gripping her legs. And as I moved, my hair was brushing against her poor, luscious pussy, rubbing against her, teasing and tantalising her. 

Sam was trying to force my head harder against her groin but each time she did, I drew away until she released me. 

I clutched her buttocks, my nails digging into those lovely moons, and kissed her groin and her mound, as plump as a pillow. Swarms of brief, light kisses, almost -- but not quite -- reaching her pussy lips. 

Then, I stopped and looked up at her, all mock-innocence. 

'I'm sorry. Did you say you want me to lick you?' 

'Fuck! Lick me, finger me, do something for God's sake.' 

'Then, ask nicely.' 

I felt her shudder against me as she struggled to restrain herself. 

'Please, lovely, wonderful, beautiful Katherine. Please, please, please lick my cunt. I'm dying for ... Oh God' 

And before the words were out of her mouth, my tongue was sliding up her slit, then sucking on her lips, first one, then the other, drawing them into my mouth. I released her buttocks and, slipping my thumbs between the lips, blew softly along her slit. Gently, so, so gently, I drew back the hood of her clit and blew on that lovely pink pearl. I wanted to suck it so much but I resisted. For now. 

Instead, I slipped my forefinger into her and moved it in and out of her in long, slow, smooth strokes. I had only ever known my own pussy and hers felt warm, wet and welcoming. 

Sam's hand was on my shoulder, bracing herself against me, one leg rested on my thigh. Two fingers slid into her and I felt her tighten around them. I was watching her face. Her eyes were closed, her teeth bit her lower lip as she savoured each entering. No words escaped her lips now, only meaningless gasps and sighs as I explored her depths. 

And then I offered my mouth to this adventure. As my tongue tip rolled over her clit, I felt Sam's hand pressing against the back of my head, drawing me into her. Fingers and tongue worked in demonic partnership, and my darling was relishing their every sensual harmony. 

Next I thrust my fingers inas far as the knuckles and kept them there as I sucked hard on and long on her sweet, fleshy pearl. 

'Ohhhhhhh!' she moaned from that purgatory where pleasure and agony live side by side. 

My fingers pulled out and glided back into her and, as they did, I drew back and looked up at her. Her head was bent back, the angle contorted by ecstasy, her lips were mouthing silent oaths and her free hand was scrunching and squeezing her breast. 

In my sexiest, most seductive voice, I entreated her: 'Oh yes, come on baby ..... cum for me ..... cum for me ..... Yeah ..... yeah.' 

Her foot pressed hard against my thigh. A hand jammed my mouth against her sex and I lapped and slurped wantonly. Her other hand was now helping my fingers into her faster and harder. The only sounds were the slapping of flesh and her frantic yells. 

'Ohhh ..... God! Ohhhh ...... K-k-k-k-k-k-a-a-a-a-t-t-t-t!' she cried. 

And then my sweet angel, my darling, my honey, my mistress, my lover was cumming, riding her orgasm, drowning in it, feeling it cascading through her -- until her hand eased upon mine and my fingers, steeped in her juices, slowed and lay still within her, my lips kissed her clit gently, and my head rested against her thigh. Silence now, only silence. 

After she had come down from her orgasm, she lay beside me on the carpeted floor and, content, we curled around each other. 

At last, she said, 'You know, they say that it's better to give than to receive.' Her hand moved from my hip to my groin and she kissed my forehead lightly. 'Well, I'm going to show you how wrong they are.' And though I have always thought that I was a generous, giving woman, for the rest of that night she proved that she was right. Again and again and again. 

(to be continued) 

The Kat Who Licked The Cream Ch. 02



For a woman there are, I've discovered, lots of advantages in having a girlfriend rather than a boyfriend. For instance, if Sam is running late, she always phones to warn me. When she brings me flowers (which is often), it isn't because she's made an unsuccessful pass at my best friend and is worried that I'll find out (yes, Jeff, that is you!). Nor does she leave the toilet seat up. On Saturday nights, when I'm wearing my sexiest smile (and little else), Sam doesn't say that she'll be coming to bed in a minute and then stay up half the night watching Match of the Day. And when we do make blissful, earth-moving love, she doesn't roll over, say 'Right, then' and snore in my ear (well, only very occasionally). 

But one of the biggest bonuses is that she enjoys shopping as much as I do. Especially telling me how to spend my money. Take our first shopping 'expedition' for instance ..... 

The morning after my 'conversion' (as Sam called it), she asked me matter-of-factly what 'toys' I owned. When I revealed that my collection consisted entirely of a malfunctioning vibrator ('Overuse, I expect,' Sam diagnosed accurately) and a pair of lockable lovers' cuffs without a key ('Mmm, I was hoping you were a little kinky,' she noted approvingly as I blushed to my roots), my new lover was utterly appalled. 

'Honestly,' I heard her telling her sister (of all people) over the phone a few days later, 'she didn't even have a dildo. Poor cow.' I felt like a Third World orphan who had been rescued from the streets. 

'We'll need to get you fixed up,' she declared as soon as I had provided her with the inventory of my bedside drawer. Then she marched me to my PC. 'I know just the place.' 

Within a couple of clicks we were on a site called Vice Is Nice staring at an almost bottomless treasure trove of erotic possibilities. I gulped and began to fear for my bank account -- and my pussy. 

'We'll just concentrate on the basics today,' Sam announced. 

'Oka-a-ay,' I answered uncertainly. 

'You'd better give me your card details and address. We can get the sordid business of payment out of the way and then have some fun.' Since my credit card was already maxed out, I gave Sam my bank debit card details instead. 

'Right,' she said. 'Vibrators! Now, let's see.' She clicked on a picture that appeared more like a space age torch or a gun than a sex toy. It made my finger vibe look like an electric tooth brush. 

'Some women say you can't beat a Rabbit but' -- she glanced up at me appraisingly -- I think the Bone will suit you better.' I stared back blankly. 

'Pricey, I know, but you shouldn't scrimp if you're only buying one.' 

She grinned at me engagingly as she brought up the profile. It looked like an abstract work of art. Small, black and shiny, like marble or ivory. It was shaped like a hip bone, gracefully tapering at each end in a vaguely phallic way. I could almost feel the length and its smooth, sensuous curves pulsing against my skin, sliding between my thighs, up and over my mound and then slipping throbbingly downwards, to be devoured by my hungry, damp lips. Sam clicked on the price and suddenly I was aroused in a less charming way. 

'One hundred and ninety nine pounds!' I exploded. 'You must be joking!' 

'You're only young once, Kat, and, after all, I'm not going to be here for you every night.' She clicked on 'Add to Basket'. I frantically calculated the state of my bank balance and the bills still to be debited before the arrival of my next salary cheque. 

Sam continued, quite oblivious to my concerns. 'You don't need cuffs. I've got loads of restraints and if you're in need of a little discipline (she smiled mischievously as she pronounced the word) 'I can always bring over mine.' 

'You're not pervy, are you?' I asked, suddenly worried about this mysterious creature I had invited into the most intimate recesses of my life. 

'Oh, Kat, you are priceless. Don't worry,' she said, chucking my chin reassuringly. 'I like you too much to make you do anything you don't want to. Now....' She returned her attention to the screen. 'Double-enders. We'll need a double-ender.' She clicked on a symbol that looked like a rubber tube. I didn't dare speculate where I was going to fit something of that length. She added that to my basket too. Then two bottles of lubricating jelly, a glass dildo and a pair of black, silk stockings ('Legs as good as yours deserve them, love.'). 

She brought up my account. Two hundred and ninety three pounds! 

'That'll do to begin with,' said Sam blithely. 'We can get a strap-on and maybe a wand next month.' 

'But .... but .... I can't affor--' 

'Sorry, darling. Too late!' she exclaimed cheerfully as she clicked the Send button. 

I must have looked close to tears. 

'You'll thank me in a few days,' she said. 'But for now,' she added with a sly grin, 'we'll just have to make do with what we've got.' She reached for her handbag and, with the grace of a conjuror, produced an elegant, silver capsule. It was about six inches long and as slim as a pencil. She stroked it against my cheek, flicked a discreet switch and it began to vibrate quietly. And so, as Sam suggested, we made do with that. I'm happy to say it took most of the afternoon. 

When I returned from work on the following Friday Mrs Travis from next door phoned to say that she had taken delivery of a parcel for me. Immediately I guessed what it was. 

'I'll be right round,' I gushed expectantly. 

'Something nice, is it?' she asked, rattling the large, plain parcel as she handed it over. 

'Just a waffle maker,' I answered innocently. She rewarded my explanation with a look so sceptical that I was tempted to wonder whether she had peeked inside. 

'You'll have to let me have a go with it,' she suggested. 'I like a nice waffle.' Then she winked. Turning redder than a letter box, I hastily thanked her and rushed the box of goodies back to my house. In the sitting room, I slid a knife along the sellotaped packaging. My hands were shaking so much I almost cut myself. 

The first box I opened contained the double-ender. 

'Good heavens!' I exclaimed. 

It was an hour or two later when I called Sam. 

'Hi,' I whispered into the phone. 'I've called .... to thank you.' 

'What? I can hardly hear you. You sound miles away. Are you OK?' 

'I'm wonderful,' I answered. 'The package .... It arrived today.' 

'Oh! Now I understand. Have you tried anything?' 

'Uh, huh. First the dildo.' 

'Good?' 

'Mmm,' I sighed. 

'And then?' 

'I took a bath .... slipped on the stockings .... Then, you know .... The Bone.' 

'And?' 

'It feels amazing.' 

'As good as me?' 

'Nothing's that good .... But' -- I chuckled -- 'a nice second best.' 

'I knew you'd like it. You should have phoned while you were using it. You could have described how it felt.' 

'I am using it,' I moaned. 'I've just started.' 

'Oh, baby! Baby! I think you need a woman's guidance. Where are you?' 

'On my bed.' 

'Excellent. What are you wearing?' 

'Just my stockings.' 

'Oh, I wish I was there. I bet you look wonderful. Do you have the dildo there?' 

'Yeah.' 

'Good, we'll need that later. Put a pillow under you and lie back. What speed is the vibe on?' 

'Second, I think.' 

'Okay. Keep it on that.' Her voice sounded low, warm and husky. 'Roll your stockings down to your knees. That's it.' She paused as I did so. 'Now slowly run the vibe along the insides of your thigh from the knee to your groin. Slowly now. Is that good?' 

'Mmm. It's good.' 

'Don't press it against your pussy yet. At the top, stop and run it up your other thigh. Nice, isn't it?' 

'Yeah .... Nice.' Actually, it felt delicious. 

'Now the same again. But try different areas of your thigh and different parts of the vibe. The pulse varies according to how you hold it.' 

I turned the Bone around in my hand and used it again. The vibrations were subtly different. 

'Close your eyes and imagine my hands are stroking you. Is that good?' 

'Mmmm ....' I said, 'Good'. Her voice was now slow, deep and sexy. 

'Now try it on your breasts. Run it all over them.' 

'Yeah .... Nice,' I whispered. 

'Baby, you're getting me so hot listening to you. I'm going to have to stroke my pussy.' 

'Pretend it's me, Sam.' 

'I am, Kat, I am. Stroke your nipples with the vibe. Go on. All over. Oh, you feel good on my pussy, baby.' 

'So do you.' 

'Are your nipples hard? They must be so hard.' 

'Mmmm. Hard and pink.' 

'Mmm. So are mine. Turn up the speed for me, baby. One notch. Then use another part of the vibe.' 

God, it felt good. Now the vibe was humming more insistently, sending waves of pleasure rippling through me. I wedged the phone between shoulder and neck and started to stroke my pussy lips gently. 

'Is that good, my baby?' 

'So good. So good.' 

'Run it down your arms, honey.' 

I'd never known my arms were so sensitive. 

'Kat, it's making me so wet, imagining my hand is yours. Now back up your thighs.' 

Oh yes, the higher speed felt magnificent. 

'Oh baby, baby, baby. It really turns me on when you moan like that, my horny honey.' I hadn't realised that I was groaning into the receiver but I was. My breathing was staccato, my voice breaking. 

'Outside your pussy lips. Gently, gently. Yeah, just like I'm doing. Go on, baby.' I obeyed her. My pussy was throbbing with pleasure. 

'Fuck, it feels good, doesn't it, Kat? Tell me how it feels.' 

'Amaaaaaaazing, Sam. It's amazing. My clit wants it so bad. Let my clit have it.' 

'Up your slit first, then your clit. Use every part of it. Come on, together.' 

'Oooooooh.' 

'Yeah, yeah.' I was biting my lip. 

'Turn it up, baby.' 

I turned it up as much as I could stand. 

'Slip the dildo in, honey. Yes. Nice and easy. You must be so wet.' 

'Mmmm. I am,' I slurred as the dildo slid effortlessly into me. 

'I can feel you licking my clit, Kat. Your fingers are in my cunt. Come on, Kat, talk to me.' 

But I couldn't. The Bone was radiating tides of rapture from my clit while the dildo was plumbing the depths of my pussy. I felt swollen and throbbing with ecstasy. 

'Aaah ..... aahhh ....... ahhhhhh.' 

Now Sam was echoing me. 'Aaaaaahhhhh.' 

'Yeah .... yeah ..... yeah ....' 

My bottom pressed into the pillow, my feet pushed hard against the bed rail as my legs strained with delirious agony. I held the Bone hard against my clit, I plunged the dildo in and out of me, I started to feel the most glorious climax overwhelming me. 

I was biting my lip, my face contorted with the exquisite pain of cumming. 

Down the phone I could hear Sam's own shuddering orgasm. 

And then all was silence, broken only by the continuous hum of the vibe and our own shallow sighs. 

At last Sam said, 'Good?' 

'Yeah,' I answered, a smile breaking over my flushed face, 'good.' 

'Now you'd better rest, Kat. Tonight I'm going to show how to use the double-ender.' 

And she did. 

Whoever would have thought to invent a device for that? 

It wasn't long before I received a less welcome delivery. A letter from the bank. I had been expecting it but it didn't make its receipt any less dispiriting. 

'Dear Miss Littler, 

We have to advise you that we have today made a payment on your behalf in the sum of £293. Since there were insufficient funds in your account to meet the payment and since you have not arranged an overdraft facility, we have debited your account an administration charge of £30 and a monthly unauthorised overdraft fee of £28. 

Please make an appointment to see me so that we can discuss the state of your account and make appropriate arrangements to bring it back into credit. 

Yours faithfully, 

Jerome Cutler Manager, Personal Banking' 

A session with the Bone, delightful as it was, and an evening with Samantha did not make the prospect of the appointment any more palatable. So it was with grave foreboding (and very little sleep) that I presented myself at the bank and reluctantly asked for Mr Cutler. After a few moments a Eurasian woman of about my age ushered me in to a small office in a manner so businesslike that it was cold to the point of frigidity. 

'I'm afraid Mr Cutler has been called away,' she announced. 'I'm the assistant manager, Ms Da.' A badge on the lapel of her grey office suit declared that her first name was Mesum, but she made it clear that we were not on first name terms. 

'Katherine -- Kat -- Littler,' I offered. We shook hands awkwardly and sat down in front of a computer screen. 

'Let's have a look at your account, shall we?' She glanced at her file and punched in the numbers. It brought up the details in all their sordid glory. I squirmed in my seat. 

Ms Da looked over her glasses at me with barely disguised contempt. She might have been very pretty -- she was petite, almost dainty with chiselled cheek bones and pink, full lips -- but her demeanour contradicted any softness in her countenance. 

'This seems to be the transaction that has caused the problem,' she said and pointed at the screen. 

'Vice is Nice -- exotic gifts - £293.00 debit.' 

I stared at the screen in baffled embarrassment. 

'A treat for your boyfriend, perhaps?' she asked accusingly. 

'I don't have a boyfriend,' I replied, equally curt. 

'A present for yourself, then?' she countered. 

'Or for someone else,' I blurted out. I had no idea why I said that, but I was flustered and, I suppose, didn't want to seem a sad loner. My cheeks were scarlet and tears were not far away. 

Ms Da frowned as her meticulous mind processed this information and then, almost instantly, her manner changed. She sat back in her seat, crossed and re-crossed her legs, so that her stockings made a delightful whispering sound,and then unbuttoned her jacket. Leaning forwards, she laid her hand on mine. It felt warm and comforting. 

'Listen,' she murmured soothingly. 'This isn't serious. Sometimes a girl needs to treat herself -- and her friend.' She took off her glasses. Her lovely eyes were dark hazels floating in pools as white as lilies. 'Since this is the first time you've been overdrawn, I can waive the admin charge in this instance. When do you think you can get the account back in the black?' 

'Well,' I said with mounting relief. 'I should get paid at the end of next week.' 

'Why don't I authorise an overdraft until the end of the month, just to be on the safe side? How much do you think? Five hundred?' 

I could have kissed her. 'Thank you,' I said. 

'You need to budget more carefully, Kat. Then, if you want to indulge yourself again, you'll have the funds. But if you do need an overdraft, give me a call and I can agree it in advance.' 

'Thank you, Ms ... ' 

'Don't be so formal,' she chided. 'It's Mesum' and smiled at me approvingly. Then she jotted a note on the back of her card and slipped it into my pocket. 

At the door we shook hands again but this time she gripped mine in both of her own and leaned into me. 

'Nice to meet you,' she said. 'Remember, we're here to help.' 

I went straight to the Supermarket. I had barely eaten in two days and was starving. Nevertheless, mindful of Mesum's words, I chose the cheapest items I could find. At the checkout I reckoned I'd saved about £12. 

Then, as soon as I had eaten, replete and invigorated by my meeting, I undid all that good work. I just couldn't help myself! I clicked on the Vice is Nice site and began to browse for more goodies. As I pulled out my purse from my pocket, I dislodged Mesum's business card and it tumbled onto the desk. 

I laughed when I saw what she had written on the reverse: 'Have you tried nipple clamps?' 

A week later another parcel arrived. I unwrapped it straightaway and retired to the bedroom. An hour or so later, with a shaky hand but a sated smile, I wrote Ms Da a thank you note. 

Little did I know then how personal my Personal Banker would become.



The Kat Who Licked The Cream Ch. 03



'Who's the best fuck you've ever had?' asked Samantha dreamily.

We were lazing in bed together, her head sharing my pillow and nuzzling up against my neck, so that when she spoke, it tickled my ear. The sun, peeking through the crack between the curtains, spilled a lemony shaft of light onto the bedroom walls. I remember how happy I felt, wrapped up in the warmth of our post-coital embrace.

'I don't know,' I said impatiently. Why should I want to think about past lovers at that moment?

'Go on,' Sam persisted. 'Who d'you think?' Her breath ruffled wisps of my hair, teasing my neck as softly as her kisses had done a little while before.

'Present company excepted?' I asked, reluctantly being drawn into her debate.

'Well, what we do isn't fucking, is it? Not technically.'

'Technically!' I laughed. 'Maybe not, but it's very nice.' I squeezed her breast which was temptingly exposed above the duvet. The nipple was still hard from my earlier attentions.

Sam giggled throatily. 'Mm, isn't it just?' As I've said, I love it when she laughs. It sounds so carefree, and sexy too. It brightens the whole room.

'I suppose it depends,' I said, giving her original question more serious consideration than I thought it merited. 'Do you mean fucking or lovemaking? Being in love is best, isn't it?'

'Yeah, of course. But who do you think -- you know, of all the men you've been with -- who's been the best?'

'There haven't been that many!' I protested and pinched her nipple. She let out a little yelp of surprise. 'You make me sound like Madonna or someone.' Sam's eyes were big and blue, and the scattering of freckles across her nose were the same shade. In the early morning light, her muddy blonde hair was streaked in yellow and brown, like a cornfield, and she had never looked lovelier.

For a moment we were silent and then she said out-of-the-blue, 'Mark was good, wasn't he?' The question surprised me because I had been thinking about him only the day before. I could feel my face reddening.

Mark had been good. Very good. But we didn't go out for long. Mark didn't have relationships, he had encounters. He had encountered me one night in Zebras, a nightclub in town. We chatted and, as we did so, I knew exactly what was going to happen. Because it was all there in his eyes, in the way he moved against me when we danced and in the way he held me as he guided me from the dance floor. He had me on the way home -- up against the bandstand in the park. I sucked him off, and then he fucked me. I hadn't done that with anyone before, not on the first night (not even on the second or third), but Mark was different. We went out for about a month and during that time we seemed to spend almost every moment together fucking. Eating, drinking, sleeping and fucking -- that was my life with Mark. And, while it lasted I supposed I enjoyed it because, as I say, he was good. Very good indeed.

It was only later I found out that Sam had known him too, a year before me. Needless to say, we have exchanged notes about his performance.

'What made you say him?' I countered.

'I saw him yesterday,' she replied nonchalantly. I must have looked shocked because Sam put her arm around me and pecked my cheek reassuringly. 'He was in the supermarket.' 

'Did you speak to him?' I wanted to know everything, despite myself.

'Yeah.' 

'And?' I tried not to sound too curious.

'He asked how you were.'

'What did you say?'

'I said you were fine.'

'Good,' I said. 'I am fine. With you.' I stroked her breast, my fingers caressing the stiff little nipple. 'Is he seeing anyone?'

''Didn't say he was,' she answered.

'What's he like these days?'

'He's just come back from Italy,' Sam said. 'He's been working there. Now he's back for good.' Then she added, 'Actually, he looked really fit. Very fuckable.' Then she gave her dirty laugh again.

I lay quietly brooding on this news. By now my hand was idly stroking Samantha's thigh. She has gorgeous legs, long and slim, and I love to stroke them, slowly sweeping my hand upwards from the backs of her knees to her ever-so-cute bum.

Sam looked into my eyes. 'He's the best fuck I've ever had,' she said decisively, and, after she said it -- before I could reply -- she kissed me full on the mouth, and her tongue slid between my teeth and, finding my own, pressed hard until I had to break off for breath.

I didn't want to think about Mark any more. I wanted to do all those things that weren't possible with him, the things that I had discovered with Sam. But mostly I wanted to make her cum again. And then she would make me cum. And afterwards we could sleep and forget this conversation ever happened. 

But, as I leaned into her face to kiss her, Sam pulled back and said, 'You know I do love you in my way, don't you?'

'Yes,' I answered, 'and I love you too. Always will. Until we're toothless old hags. Remember.' It was a promise we'd made to each other -- our private joke. 

'You're good to me,' she said. 'The way you still let me have boyfriends.'

'It's alright,' I replied. 'I know what you're like.' I would have preferred it if she didn't, of course, but then, it's probably best that she has her little diversions. It makes her appreciate me. Sad, aren't I?

Then she announced, 'Well, I want to fuck Mark again.'

I must have looked astonished.

'Not just me. You and me together.' 

I stared at her blankly. I've never had a threesome, never even wanted one.

Before I could say a word, she continued: 'Just think how cool it would be. He could watch us, and then I could watch you two -- and then .... It would be brilliant.' I looked into her eyes. They were huge and wild. And, just as I had known what was going to happen from Mark's eyes, I was certain that if Samantha had her way, she and Mark and I would soon be sharing a bed and each other. 

I tried to rationalise it to myself. Why shouldn't it be just another sex game like the ones we already played together? Anyway, I had liked doing it with Mark. And with Samantha. So what was the problem? The problem was, of course, that Mark was the 'past Kat' and Sam was the 'present Kat' and I wanted to stay in the present, thank you. We had each other and we didn't need him.

Nevertheless, I didn't want an argument, not just after our glorious, sleepy sex. Instead, I just shrugged. But since I knew she was becoming aroused at the thought of the three of us, and since at that moment she was mine alone, I figured that I could easily divert her attention. So I slipped one hand between her legs and the other drew her face to mine. And, whispering in her ear, I told her all the things I wanted to do to her. Without Mark. 

She must have enjoyed my plans because she giggled her sexy giggle and then gasped as my fingers found her wetness. 

After that, she didn't laugh again for quite a while.

I know what you're thinking -- that I'm a sex addict or, at best, obsessed with getting laid. But I'm not like that. Honestly. 

In fact, I've always approved of a maxim my mother once told me: 'It's better to go to bed with a good book than a boring lover.' That's why, after Mark and I finished, I had only one proper lover, Jake, in a year and a half. In that time I read 37 books! I just didn't fancy anyone else enough.

If for a while I did become a little sex-mad with Sam, it's not so surprising, is it?

Firstly, it had been a while, as I've said, since I had had a lover (other than myself!) and, it's true, I was feeling neglected and horny when this fabulously sexy lady (well, hardly a lady) stepped into my life. Secondly, since Sam didn't really like living with her sister, Pru, and Rog, her sister's husband, she was at my place all the time: one moment, I was fearfully and sleepily asking: 'Do you want to meet up again?' and the next her toothbrush was snuggling up to mine and her knickers were in my washing basket. I suppose inclination and opportunity were just too powerful to resist. Thirdly, this was all new to me and I was curious, hungry for experience and eager to do all those things that I had never even imagined. Plus I had my new toys to play with!

I did try to slow things down. I persuaded Sam to teach me French. She works for a travel company and speaks it fluently. Mine is only so-so. But her lessons were doomed to fail. We would sit opposite each other on the floor or the bed, propped against a pile of cushions, and she would ask me something in that smokily, seductive accent. It would always be suggestive: did I like her tits? What undies was I wearing? I would try to answer, and she would laugh at my feeble efforts, then the conversation would move to amour and baiser and soixante neuf. Soon we would be tearing at each other's clothes and she would be pleading, 'Leche ma chatte!' Or 'Oui, fouts-moi, maintenant!' I have to say that Gallic sex was incroyable.

That's how Sam was. And, sadly, it wasn't just with me. I had presumed -- not unreasonably -- that Sam was exclusively lesbian and that she didn't fancy men. How wrong I was. She soon let me know that she would continue seeing her men friends.

For some reason I didn't mind at first. Blinded by love, I suppose. I'd have been jealous if Sam saw another girl. Why should she need to bed other women, when she'd got me? Men seemed to be different though. A need I couldn't fulfil. So I didn't stop Sam seeing men. Nor did she discourage me, though, as it happens, I didn't. 

Because of Pru and Roger's restrictions, she usually brought her men to my flat for the night. Then, lying awake under my duvet on the couch, I had to listen to them in my bed as they'd go at it hammer and tongs (or perhaps I mean 'tongues'). She always put on a performance for me. She thought it turned me on. But it didn't. 

The next morning, she'd usually kiss her man goodbye and straightaway drag me into bed. Then she'd describe every sordid detail of what they'd done together, sigh and say, 'He was okay, I suppose, but not as good as this.' And that did turn me on. So much that provided they had used a condom, I had to have her there and then even though she'd been with someone else ..... To be honest, especially because she'd been with someone else. It didn't matter that I could smell him on the sheets and on her skin. The thought that she had dismissed him for me was the most powerful aphrodisiac imaginable. 

Perhaps, then, I shouldn't have been surprised when she suggested sharing Mark.

My favourite meal of the day is Pussy Pie. Served in bed. For breakfast. Yum yum.

Sam and I were helping each other to seconds one Sunday morning. My legs were helpfully splayed out in a long letter Y and Sam was inverted on top of me in a 69. That's how I like it, my face clamped by her thighs, my breasts pressed by her belly and my crotch enjoying the attentions of her tongue and lips. Her slit was damp from my drool and her juices. Slowly I slid two of my fingers into her. 

'Mmmm,' my lover mewed encouragingly and sat up, bracing herself on her forearms, in order to arch against my jaw.

In and out of her, my fingers pumped rhythmically. My lips suckled upon her delicious clit. As her own fingers returned to trace the line of my own slit, the phone rang insistently.

Damn! 

'Don't answer it!' I tried to yell but my protest was smothered by her thighs and only a muted gurgling spilled from my lips.

She reached for the phone. 

'Oh ..... Hi ..... No .... It's Sam,' Her breathing was ragged and urgent. 

I slid a third finger into her weeping pussy. 

'Uh .... Oh .... No.....' Then, 'God!' she yelled away from the receiver. 'She's fine ....' she groaned.

I could sense her struggling to hold herself together but it only stitrred in me more devilment. In and out of her my fingers quickened. My tongue flicked across her clit playfully. 

Her own fingers eased into me whilst she cradled the phone with her other hand.

'Kat? .... She's busy ..... Downstairs ....' I laughed silently.

'Yeah .... Yeah .... Friday....' Her voice was rising and falling manically as she struggled to achieve some coherence.

'Eight .... O'clock .... Right .... Got to go .... Someone's .... aaahh ..... coming ....'

We both knew who was cumming. She slammed the phone down and cried out.

'Oooooohsweeeeetjeeeesusssss!!!!' 

Sam's belly arched against my shoulder. I could feel the stiffening in her limbs as her knees and heels dug into the mattress. She was braced on one arm, crouched above me, pressing her crotch down on my face and prising my mouth hard against her sex. Later I could see nail prints where she had squeezed her tits tightly with one hand. My fingers pressed in and in and into her. Leaning forwards, she bit into my thigh.

'Don't stop .... Don't ....' she was sobbing.

'Oh .... Oh .... Oh ....' Her body convulsed in the sweetest agony.

'Mmmmmm'. A long cooing sigh as she began to come down. 

Gradually I relaxed my fingering and then left them in her, still. Gently I kissed around her sopping pussy.

At last, she said what I had suspected.

'Mark. Friday. 8.'

I said nothing.

Climbing off me, she said, 'We're going to fuck him senseless.'

By Friday, my misgivings had started. But a promise is a promise. And besides, you never knew, perhaps Sam would realise how well off we were without Mark. Or maybe it was a test for me? To see whether I still wanted a man. I decided to go a long with it. After all, que sera, sera! 

I bathed and shaved my legs. I decided to wear my short tartan skirt and black knee length socks, a black V neck tee shirt and biker boots. Underneath just a pair of black, silk panties. I remembered how he liked his girls and had shaved myself but for a little crest of trimmed pubic hair. I was wearing Oudh perfume which always makes me feel sexy and knowing that I looked as good as I could and smelled better gave me much needed confidence.

Samantha arrived already dressed for the evening. She looked gorgeous. An alice band pushed her hair off her face, showing off her clear skin and lovely eyes. She was wearing a long turquoise dress and, if that sounds reserved, the plunging back, displaying her tanned back, and the slit to the thigh, revealing a bronzed thigh, spoke eloquently of her intentions for the evening.

We each swigged a glass of white wine (in truth, it wasn't my first) for Dutch courage and then Sam announced: 'Let's shag him rotten, sister!'

Mark was already at the restaurant when we arrived. He was seated at our table perusing the menu and sipping on an orange juice. 

'Hey, great to see you!' he declared enthusiastically. 'You look fabulous. And, Kat, you haven't changed a bit.'

Mark had changed though. It's true that they he looked (to use Sam's term -- not mine) very 'fuckable' but there was something, I don't know, withdrawn about him. Distracted, I suppose.

He ordered us a drink -- God, I thought, I'm going to be under the table if I don't slow down -- and he told us all about Italy. For the most part, it was the usual stuff: the job had been good, Umbria was wonderful, the people so hospitable. But then, the conversation took a shift. Sam and I told him our news but without explaining our relationship. It was all very cosy. Friendly, if not, intimate; comfortable but not romantic. Sam, of course, kept trying to move the talk onto his love life and sex in general but Mark kept changing the subject.

Then, he declared, 'Well, I suppose I ought to tell you my big news.'

Thank the Lord, I thought, he's engaged. We won't have to do this! In fact, the news was even more startling.

'I've discovered Jesus,' he said. His face was beaming.

Sam looked non-plussed. 'Jesus who?' she asked. 'I hadn't heard he was lost.'

Mark merely ignored her. 'It was in Rome. I suddenly felt lost and ....'

Sam interrupted him, as she slowly gathered the significance of Mark's declaration. 'Does this mean that you don't want to fuck us?'

A lady on the next table almost choked on a mouthful of pork.

'Sorry?' he spluttered.

'Look, Kat and I had been expecting a good fucking tonight. Do you think that we dress like this every night? We've gone to a lot of trouble. I've had my bush waxed especially. Is a fuck so much to ask?'

The red-faced lady was now gagging on her napkin. Her husband was desperately summoning the waiter. 

Meanwhile, I was saying to myself: 'Oh, thank you, thank you.'

'Come on, Kat,' commanded Sam as she rose from the table.

I smiled helplessly at Mark. 'Sorry,' I said. 'You know what she's like.'

As we reached the door, I heard him call after us, 'I'll pray for you.'

'Let's get a drink,' said Sam as we emerged into the night air. 

'Zebras?' I said, my voice slurring.

The club was dark and packed with revellers in varying stages of inebriation. Raucous music pounded out from a dozen speakers and you could hardly hear yourself think, let alone talk. Across the walls, vivid geometric patterns flashed, interspersed with graphic sexual images. 

Sam gestured towards the bar.

We forced our way past snogging couples in every combination: boys with girls, boys with boys, and girls with girls, and some that might have been either. As Sam bought us each a Sangria, I took in the heady atmosphere. The noise was overpowering but strangely liberating too. And completely intoxicating. 

Suddenly there was push from an incoming throng and I barged into a small young girl in front of me, spilling her cocktail. She turned around angrily but her wrathful expression turned instantly to a smile.

'It's Kat, isn't it?' she exclaimed. It was Mesum Da. But a completely different creature from the office drone at the bank. Her silky black hair was loose and her lips were a glossy mauve as was her eye shadow. Her eyelashes were long and jet black. But more striking were her clothes. She was wearing a black fishnet cut-out top over a skimpy black bra. Leather hot pants were also black and tight and showed off her butt handsomely. Her slim legs were clad in mauve and black stripy thigh-length hold-ups. On her feet were a pair of butch biker's boots. God, she looked gorgeous. We hugged affectionately.

'Who's this?' she asked interestedly, as Sam fought her way back from the bar. She handed me my drink. 'Your friend?' and, as she said the words, she made quotation marks with her fingers.

'Yes,' I answered and, turning to Sam, I hollered above the din, 'Sam, this is Mesum. You know, from the bank.'

'What? Oh yeah,' said Sam, her eyes lighting up as she squeezed past the revellers and saw my banker in all her exotic loveliness. 'Nipple clamps! Great idea.' We all laughed.

'Well, she needs looking after, doesn't she?' she replied and stroked my shoulder protectively. 'Come on, let's go somewhere quieter.' She waved bye to a group of women and led us around a corner to some sofas. There it was much quieter. We all squeezed on to one sofa, Mesum perched on the arm rest.

'What are you girls doing here?' she asked curiously.

'We were supposed to be hooking up with someone,' Sam answered and, then deliberately (I think) hiding Mark's gender added, 'but they didn't want to come out to play.' She made a mock-sad face.

'Oh,' exclaimed Mesum mischieviously. 'And you're looking for a new playmate, are you?'

Knowing exactly where this was leading, I gestured to Sam surreptitiously 'No, please, no.' After all, she was my bank manager. But Sam just took her hand and said, 'Maybe. Do you want to dance, Mesum? Come on, Kat.'

When we reached the dance floor, it began to empty as the song ended. Then a slower anthemic piece began. We danced in a small triangle. Mesum held her arms behind her back, wrists crossed,and swayed her hips and shoulders sensuously. Her little breasts were thrust out and every now and then, she would flick back her long, jet hair with a hand. Sam only took her eyes off her to smile suggestively to me. Soon they were rubbing up against each other and exploring one another with eager hands. They motioned to me to join them and tentatively (but with a secret keenness) I did so. The heat and smell of their bodies, the lust in their eyes and the alcohol in my veins were utterly maddening. 




The Kat Who Licked The Cream Ch. 03



When the music ended and we had recovered our seats, Sam asked the question that was buring her lips. 'Why don't you come back to Kat's place, Mesum?' The beautiful Eurasisan looked at each of us, temptation written all over her purring lips. But she was nothing, if not direct.

'I am going to get laid, aren't I?' she asked matter-of-factly. 'It's just that I've had a shitty week and if I stay here,' -- she glanced over to a tall, blonde woman who was almost leering at her -- 'you know, I'm bound to get a fuck. I wouldn't want to miss out.'

Sam drew Mesum to her and gave her the longest, most sumptuous embrace. When they separated, the Eurasian's nipples were peeking through the fishnet top.

When she had recovered her breath, she said, 'What are we waiting for? Let's get a taxi.'

(to be continued)