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The Twelfth of Never Ch. 01

By: Maonaigh



I have been writing for more years than I care to remember but I have never written anything erotic before, so I would welcome any comments or feedback, positive or otherwise. This, my first effort, is a long love story in three chapters and while there will be sex, it won't happen immediately. If you're looking for instant thrills with little or no plot, please look elsewhere. Characters in sex scenes are eighteen years old or over. To any readers who live in the Channel Islands, my apologies for having taken liberties with the geography to suit my story. 

All characters are imaginaryany resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

Copyright (c) 2014 to the author.

Prologue

I guess I've known I'm gay since I was about eight years old, although at the time I didn't know the concept or the word 'lesbian'. All I know is that I preferred girls even then. It wasn't the common small boy/small girl antipathy: I just knew that there was something different about me and boys didn't enter the equation. But before I go any further, a little bit about my background. I'm the adopted daughter of Thomas and Rebecca Wainwright, my real parents having been killed in a traffic accident when I was just a few months old.

Thomas Wainwright was a distant relative of my father, a third cousin or something like that. He and Rebecca wouldn't hear of me being taken into care and put up for adoption and so they adopted me themselves. Many adoption societies are notoriously PC and bloody-minded about certain kinds of prospective parents, including (even especially) older ones, but Thomas had friends who could pull strings so there was a minimum of difficulty. Anyway, the relationship probably helped.

Perhaps it was brave of Thomas and Rebecca to take on a baby, seeing that they were in their mid-forties at the time, but then they had had a late child of their own, Hilary, who was two years older than me. They never concealed the fact of my adoption but gave me the same unstinted love that they gave to their natural children. And to me they and Hilary were Mum and Dad and big sister. There were also two older children, James who was nineteen when I was adopted, and Fiona seventeen. By the time I reached my eighth birthday, both were married and had babies of their own, girls born about the same time. Sophie was James's daughter and Beth was Fiona's.

One of my earliest memories is of Hilary and I each sitting on one of Dad's knees and him singing an old Fifties song to us: "...until the Twelfth of Never, I'll still be loving you..." 

So, as I said, I guess I've recognized my sexuality from the time I was about eight but my real awakening came when I was about fourteen. Mum had to go into hospital for a week or so and Dad couldn't neglect his business so an alternative had to be found for Hilary and me. Hilary was invited to stay with a school-friend. Then a Mrs Roberts, an acquaintance of Mum's, who with her husband ran a nearby dairy farm, offered to have me. The Robertses had a daughter called Fran who was then about fifteen or sixteen. Her room was in an annexe to the main farmhouse so that she could have some privacy and during my visit I was to share a double bed with her. She seduced me the first night I was there.

There was no doubt that Fran was gay. And I certainly didn't need much seducing. From the moment she first gave me a tentative kiss, I was her slave. Our 'affair' was necessarily short-lived but Fran and I remained friends although we were never to be adult lovers. By the time I was sixteen, Fran was a young adult starting agricultural college. Several years later she met and fell for an older woman called Dot who owned an old cottage with several acres of land and outbuildings. Dot was an expert carpenter and made bespoke furniture while Fran grew organic vegetables and raised free-range chickens, all of which she sold at farmers' markets. They had a happy lifestyle.

As a teenager at school I had fumbles with several other girls although I think most of them were just bi-curious. There were two, though, wholike mewere the real thing. There was Edna, nicknamed "Tiger", who was very butch, all hairy legs and armpits, and a devil on the hockey field. And there was Felicity who was the archetypal girly-girl, all frills and flouncesI'm feminine enough but she out-femmed me by a long way. Anyway, between us we had three two-way relationships and sometimes when chance allowed we'd indulge in threesomes. We gradually grew apart as we got older but we certainly learned a lot from each other.

Coming out to one's family isn't easy. I did it when I was sixteen. I knew that I'd have to face it sooner or later and on impulse one Sunday morning I thought I would get it over with, regardless. Hilary was due to go off to university the following week and so I went to her first. "Hils, I've got something to tell you... I'm gay."

Hilary grinned and opened her arms, drawing me into a big hug. "Of course you are, baby sis, I've known that almost since we were kids." She gestured at her collection of pin-up posters, all hunky sportsmen, actors and pop stars. "What are yours, Emma? All beautiful women. And you never did make eyes at boys—you always were more interested in watching girls." She started to laugh. "God, the horrified look on your face at the seaside once when you saw a small boy running around without swimming trunks on."

I couldn't help laughing too, then, anxiously: "But how am I going to tell Mum and Dad? They might be hurt... they might hate me... they might get rid of me." Our parents were among the most tolerant people I ever knew—a tolerance gene seemed to be hereditary in the Wainwright family—but I had heard some scary stories about people throwing gay children out of their homes.

Hilary raised an eyebrow. "You don't really believe that, do you?" She grabbed my hand. "Come with me. You're going to tell them straight out, just the way you told me. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." She hustled me along to the sitting room where our parents were on the sofa, immersed in the Sunday newspapers.

"Mum, Dad," she announced, "Emma's got something very important to say to you." She nudged me in the ribs. "Go on, Emma, tell them."

"I..." I hesitated for a moment and then blurted it out: "Mum, Dad, please don't be angry with me but I... I'm gay... I'm a lesbian." 

They looked at me and then at Hilary and then at each other and smiled before gesturing me to sit between them so that they could hug me. "Why should we be angry, sweetheart?" Dad said, "You're our daughter and we love you any way you are, no matter what."

"But are you sure about this, darling?" Mum asked, "You are young yet."

"Oh yes, Mum, I'm positive."

"Okay." She said nothing else but hugged me closer. Behind her back I could see Hilary mouthing, "I told you so..." I found out several years later that Mum and Dad had guessed some time before and took the very sensible line that it was my life to live whichever way was right for me.

In time I went off to university myself and met other gay girls. For the first few months I was like a kid in a sweetshop and became quite promiscuous. Then I fell into a couple of steady but short-lived relationships, one with Miriam, a forty-something lecturer who had a taste for younger—that is, exclusively first year—women, and after her with an older fellow student.

I even had sex with a man once. Jacob, too, was gay and we had become good friends and drinking buddies. One night we got stupid drunk together and as often happens with drunken youngsters, we started bragging about our sex lives. At some stage we mused about what it would be like with the opposite sex, then one of us—thanks to the drink, I'm not sure who—suggested that as we were loving friends anyway, we try it together rather than with a stranger whom we might not like. In the past we'd shared a bed platonically after drinking sessions so it just seemed like a good idea. It wasn't too bad. I worked diligently with my hands until Jacob had an erection and he used plenty of lube to help me. I think it was because of the booze that it took some time and it ended with me having... not exactly an orgasm but a mini-spasm and Jacob shooting off into his condom. We slept the night in each other's arms but didn't do it again.

The following morning, two very hung-over and embarrassed students analysed the experience. We agreed that it had been mildly pleasant but it wasn't for us. It wasn't for Jacob because I didn't have a dick and it wasn't for me because he did. But whatever, we remained close friends.

I graduated when I was twenty-two and after a few months of dead-end jobs, I was lucky enough to land a plum trainee position with a large advertising and PR agency, LeStrange/LeStrange Media Group...

Chapter 1

The first thing I noticed as I set foot on the ferry's gangway was that the young woman steward waiting at the top to meet-and-greet was very attractive. But then, I would probably have noticed if she had been plug ugly. I'd been without sex, other than with my own fingers, for about six months and I was feeling very frustrated and randy. Masturbating to orgasm is all very well but it can't touch the closeness of another, preferably naked, body.

I had been working for Alan LeStrange for something over four years and, having found a real talent for the work, I had risen quite rapidly in the company. I had recently completed a complex project which had involved working closely with my boss for six months or so, twelve- to fourteen-hours a day, seven days a week. It culminated in the two of us making a presentation to the client that resulted in our winning a massive and lucrative contract. But it did my sex life no favours.

Alan was so pleased with my contribution that he gave me a pay rise and a huge bonus. He told me to take a couple of weeks off and offered me the use of his little holiday place for a week. Now Alan is seriously rich and his 'little holiday place' is a villa on a remote Channel island which he co-owns with several other equally rich people. You won't find this island in a conventional atlas; it is a great distance from the main islands in the group and can only be found on detailed maritime charts.

"The villa's got four bedrooms, so take anyone you like for company," Alan told me, "All expenses paid." It was the school holidays and so I chose to take my three nieces, Sophie and Beth, both eighteen, and Amy, Sophie's twelve-year-old sister (actually, they are something like fourth or fifth cousins—whatever, a very distant relationship—but have been brought up as my nieces). We had flown to the main island and from there we were to travel to Alan's island by overnight ferry. Sailing time was 3:30 p.m. after which the ferry would call at other major islands and then head overnight to our destination.

I had no concerns about being with the three girls—they were all lovely. Sophie and Beth had always been very close, more like sisters; Sophie was the elder by a matter of days and the cousins had grown up together. I know that Sophie loved her young sister but there was that six-year age gap between them. As for Amy, she's a great kid. The worst thing I can say about her is that she is totally lacking in tact—diplomat she will never be. 

I passed our tickets to the steward and as she examined them, I checked her out. She was gorgeous. Petite (about five feet, five-one), she had thick ash-blonde hair falling almost to her shoulders, eyes of an unusual, near tropical, green shade and a delicious sprinkling of freckles across a cute nose. I thought it might be fun to kiss every one of those freckles. An inelegant uniform concealed her figure but I guessed she would be slim and neat. I estimated her age to be two or three years younger than my own twenty-six. She was wearing a light, flowery scent, a whiff of which really jerked my libido by the tail. God, was I in sore need of some enthusiastic quim therapy. My last relationship had been with Janice, an Australian girl who had a temporary job with my company. Neither of us had been in love with the other, we were just good friends-with-benefits (or fuck-buddies as Janice would have it). When Janice went home, we had hugged and kissed goodbye but there was no heartbreak, no weeping nor wailing nor gnashing of teeth. And then almost immediately afterwards, the long months of our business project had started.

"Thank you, madam." The steward directed me to our four-berth cabin and handed me our tickets. As she did so, warm fingers brushed against mine and seemed to linger for a few seconds. I swear my heart momentarily beat faster. I was going to have to go on a serious pussy hunt when this holiday was over.

There wasn't a lot to do on the ferry. Beth took Amy off for a game of pool in one of the lounges while Sophie and I wandered the deck just watching the waves and watching other passengers coming and going when we docked at the other islands. Eventually we were the only passengers left on board and the ferry began its long nighttime trip to Alan's island. We had a meal, the girls devouring burgers and chips while I had a rather mediocre Caesar salad. Come about 9:30, there was little else we could do and so we retired for the night. When my nieces were settled in, I had a pee and cleaned my teeth, stripped off and crawled into my bunk naked.

I just couldn't settle. The sounds of even breathing told me that the girls slept okay but I couldn't manage to get off, possibly because I habitually went to bed much later that this. I gave up and thought that perhaps the night air on deck might tire me. I didn't bother trying to find my underwear in the dark, I just located my dress and slipped it over my head.

It was a fine, warm night with clear skies and a full moon. I wandered down to the stern and leaned against the rail, gazing at the creamy white foam of the ferry's wake and the long, silvery trail of reflected moonlight on the sea's surface.

After I had been there for ten minutes or so I heard a soft footfall behind me and caught a whiff of light, flowery scent. I turned and saw the small steward close behind.

"Hi there," she said, "Would you like some company?"

"Thanks, that would be nice."

She held out a hand. "I'm Samantha... Samantha Parry... Sam to my friends."

"Emma Wainwright." Her hand was soft and warm in mine but she had a decent grip, which pleased me. I can't stand handshakes like wet lettuce. I let go of her hand but very reluctantly.

"So, you're going to Millionaires' Island," she said, "Are you guests or are you so impressively rich that I should know my place and tug my forelock?" There was laughter in Sam's voice and I think she knew the truth—after all, there were four of us sharing one cabin.

I explained and when I mentioned my job, she told me that the ferry was just summer work so that she could earn some money before taking a position with another advertising company as a trainee. "I'm going to work for Boro-Fiske—do you know them, Emma?"

"Yes, their offices are just around the corner from ours, perhaps ten minutes walk."

Sam looked slightly crestfallen. "Does that mean we'll be business rivals?"

"Oh no, our companies represent quite different kinds of clients."

She brightened. "Good, then perhaps we could be friends and meet up sometimes for lunch?"

When I agreed, she gave me a huge smile and then said, "I'm off duty now. When I saw you there, I was just on my way to the stewards' lounge to watch a film. If some of the lads were here, they'd want a slasher film, immature idiots that they are. But I've got the place to myself tonight and I'm going to watch Sleepless in Seattle. Would you like to join me?"

"That'll be great," I told her, "It's a lovely film, worth watching any time."

The stewards' lounge was small and a bit cramped, there just being about enough room for a two-person sofa, a couple of arm-chairs, a small side-table and a TV monitor with DVD player. A tiny lamp on the table gave off a dim light. At Sam's invitation, I sat on the sofa while she started the film and then she came to sit beside me. She edged in close and slipped a small hand into mine. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked. 

I looked down. Sam's hand was nicely shaped with short nails coated with clear varnish. I gave her hand a squeeze and said: "Why should I mind? You've got a lovely hand to hold."

She smiled and interlaced our fingers, squirming closer to me as she did so. I could feel myself starting to get damp between the legs. Within minutes, we had all four hands clasped together and the warmth of Sam's body pressed against mine was making me decidedly hot. I could feel the juices flowing now and knew that there was likely to be a large damp spot on the seat of my dress. Possibly on the fabric of the sofa too.

At last the film reached its end with its final scene at the top of the Empire State Building. As they walked towards the elevators, Meg Ryan took Tom Hanks's hand in hers and the credits began to roll. We both gave a little sigh. Sam turned to me. "There's only one thing wrong with that ending," she said, "I think that a romantic film should always end with a kiss. Like this..."

She took my face in her hands and gently pressed soft warm lips to mine. After a second, I closed my eyes and returned the pressure. The kiss only lasted seconds but it seemed longer and I found myself getting lost in it. Sam moved back and asked: "Did you like that, Emma?"

I nodded. "Then how about this?" said Sam and kissed me again. This time she allowed the tip of her tongue to sweetly graze my lips. I threw my arms around Sam and opened up to her so that our tongues could caress. But then I did one of these weird, irrational human things—it's odd, this is exactly what I'd needed and had been longing for but suddenly it occurred to me that I was being taken for granted and I felt slightly resentful. I pulled back.

"Hold it, what makes you think I'm into women?"

"Well, you are, aren't you?" Sam sounded positive. "I don't know why, Emma, but I've got this kind of instinct for spotting gay girls and I'm right about seven times out of ten. I'm sure I'm right this time." She grinned. "And then there's the Sherlock Holmes method, observation. When you handed me your tickets today, you were checking me out. Other people might not have noticed but it was obvious to me. So when I deliberately brushed against your hand, your pupils dilated, a near certain sign you were interested. And you didn't object when I held your hand during the film. And as for that kiss... Elementary, Watson. Am I right?"

I nodded and Sam added: "So stop asking bloody stupid questions." She flung her arms around my neck and fervent lips mashed against mine, our tongues writhing and twisting.

I felt the hem of my dress being lifted and Sam's hand started to caress my inner thighs. I parted my legs a little for her and the fact that I was bare-arsed already would make access to kitty easier. But Sam tantalized me, spending some time just making feather-like strokes up and down my thighs, approaching but never quite touching my pussy. I was sopping wet by now and near to whimpering with desire and frustration. But at last Sam took pity on me and I felt a gentle finger rubbing my slit from bottom to top.

I thrust my hips forward and as I did so, Sam slipped two fingers, crossed and slightly hooked, into my vagina. She closed her hand so that the heel pressed strongly against my clitoris. Somehow, by chance or otherwise, she found my g-spot immediately and the combined pressure on spot and clit finished me. I can't recall ever climaxing so fast before. I came off like a rocket, slumping forward into Sam's arms, panting, half-sobbing, half-laughing.


The Twelfth of Never Ch. 01



Sam simply held me and rocked me gently while I slowly descended from whatever height I had reached. As my breathing slowly eased and my shaking stopped, she said: "Wow, you must have really needed that."

"It's been a long time," I gasped, "Well, a long time since somebody else was in the same room. I've used my fingers but that's never quite the same." I straightened myself up and gave Sam a long and passionate kiss. When we came up for air, I said: "Well, I guess I owe you one now."

Sam hugged me close and kissed me again. "You bet your sweet arse you do." She stood and reached under her uniform skirt to pull her panties down. "Look what you've done to me," she said, pointing to a large wet spot in the crotch. Tossing the panties on the deck, she added: "So what are you going to do about it?"

I held out my arms. "Come here."

Sam sat on my lap, arms around me, pulling my hair aside to kiss and nuzzle and lick my ear. "Make it quick, Emma" she whispered, "Just bringing you off has set me on the boil."

I reached under her skirt, and as she wanted it quick I went straight to her pussy, where I got another surprise. Sam was completely hairless and smooth. But, boy, was she wet. Her pussy was tight but so slippery that my fingers were sucked into her with little effort. For some minutes I finger-fucked Sam hard and thoroughly soaked my fingers with her juices and then withdrew them and made tiny circles with them around her clit. She was right about being on the boil. A few moments work on her clit and her arms tightened about me as she came with a loud gasp.

For a while we just sat there, holding each other close and exchanging small sweet kisses and then Sam said: "Would you like to stay with me tonight, Emma?"

"Oh, yes please."

"What about your girls?"

"They'll be okay—they're all sound asleep."

"Good." Sam stood up, holding out a hand to me. "Come on, let's go to my cabin—it'll be a bit more comfortable there."

I picked her panties off the deck and handed them to her. "You don't want to leave these for some pervert to sniff."

We walked along the companionway hand-in-hand. "We're lucky tonight," said Sam, "I usually share with another woman but she's on leave for a couple of weeks."

"Are you and she...?"

Sam laughed. "God, no. She's a fat, fiftyish grandmother and she's so straight you could draw a line with her."

I just had to ask. "Sam, why do you shave?"

"I just feel neater that way," she said, "And anyway, I always think it much nicer when you can see pussy. Here we are." She stopped and unlocked a cabin door. It was a cramped little room, but then I suppose that crew quarters don't rate very highly. There were two narrow bunks with storage lockers beneath and a side door led to what I guessed would be the lavatory. The only light in the cabin came from a very dim bulb set in the ceiling. Being on the port side, there was no porthole but the cabin door had a small square of frosted glass which would probably let in a minimal amount of daylight.

Sam started to unbutton her uniform shirt so I just lifted my dress over my head, tossed it on one of the bunks and sat naked on the other, watching her undress. The shirt came off quickly followed by the bra. She had lovely tits, tip-tilted with chocolate-coloured nipples and areolas. I reckoned they were 34B, like mine, but because she was five or six inches shorter than me they appeared to be bigger. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall. My guess had been right: she was slim and neat and her legs were fine and shapely. She gave me a little twirl before taking my face in her hands and giving me a lingering kiss.

I made to stand up but Sam said "No." very firmly and pushed me so that I was lying on my back. "I want to look at you, Emma." She knelt between my legs and began to play with my nipples, which have always been very sensitive. "What beautiful brown eyes you've got," she whispered, then: "God, Emma, you are so lovely." I have never thought of myself as lovely, but the way that Sam whispered the words sent shivers down my spine. She leaned down to kiss me deeply and I wrapped my legs around hers, pulling her close. Sam's mouth clamped on an erect nipple and I could feel myself becoming sodden again.

Sam spent a long time just massaging and kissing and licking my breasts and nipples and torso, occasionally breaking off to kiss my lips or to kiss and lick my neck and throat. I could hear incessant low moaning noises and realized that it was me making them. I kept bucking my hips, seeking relief, but Sam held me down, continuing non-stop with her sweet torture. Then in an act of what seemed to me to be mercy, she slipped a pair probing fingers between my pussy's lips and then inside me, twisting and wriggling them about. My moans became louder and I heard myself pleading. "Please, Sam... oh, please, Sam..."

Sam suddenly fingered my lips apart, dipped her head down and began long, slow sweeps of my pussy with her tongue. My moans changed into tiny cries and I could feel myself beginning to near the crest, my hips jerking involuntarily. Soft lips sucked my clit in and her tongue played delicately with it. My breathing, which had been ragged for some time, became a series of rapid gasps and then I exploded, one hand pressing Sam's head into my puss, the other clutching violently at the bed-sheets. I think I cried out as I came and it felt as if my pussy was melting into liquid. For a brief moment, my sight and hearing dimmed as I hung in some strange, aIternate universe and then I started to return, oh so slowly, to earth. I believe that was one of the best orgasms of my life to date.

I became aware that Sam had moved up my body once more and was raining kisses on my face and mouth. Still in a state of awe, I reached out to touch her cheek. "Oh God, Sam, you've just blown my brains out."

She giggled. "That's strange, I thought I was blowing your pussy out."

"Right, I'm going to get you for that." Although still shaky and a bit weak-kneed from the orgasm, I managed to flip Sam over onto her back. I was going to get her all right.

I pressed my lips down upon hers and sucked at her offered tongue. Our mingled saliva was wine-sweet and I could have supped at hers for hours. But then I lifted her arms above her head and pinned them there. I don't know why but I've always had a bit of a thing about smooth underarms. Perhaps a psychologist could explain. Just call it my own funny and harmless little fetish. Anyway, Sam's armpits looked especially beautiful to me and they had a mingled aroma of light, flowery scent and Sam's natural fragrance. I spent ages just lapping at them, only breaking once in a while to kiss Sam and drink more of her delicious saliva.

Moving down, I spent almost as much time sucking on her lovely nipples which started out erect and became even more so under my mouth. Her tits were the right size to make a good handful and I held and stroked them while feasting on the nipples. Sam also had the tiniest of pot-bellies just above her mound, something I always find incredibly sexy, and her belly button seemed to be made just to swirl my tongue in. All the time that I was enjoying the combination of mouth, tongue and Sam's body, she was making tiny whimpering noises.

At last I arrived at her smooth mound. Sam was right. It was lovely to see unadorned pussy. Her labia were swollen and slightly open, with thick beads of moisture seeping out. I could feel heat emanating from her pussy and the smell... God, that sweet musky smell of arousal almost drove me out of my mind. If Sam tasted as good as she smelled, then I was a very lucky lesbian. I drew a forefinger gently up the length of her slit, gathering pussy-juice, and then sucked the finger clean. Honey and spice.

I ran my tongue around the outside of her lips several times, from perineum to just above the clit and then used my fingers to gently open her. The inside of Sam's pussy was a glorious dark-rose pink, a jewel glistening with natural lube, and the tiny pearl of her clit peeped from its hood. Stiffening my tongue, I pushed it as far into her vagina as I could and buried my nose into her sweet folds so as to inhale as much as possible of that wonderful smell. Sam gave a little cry and wound her fingers into my hair, locking me to her pussy.

I lapped at her whole pussy with broad sweeps of my tongue and sucked her inner labia into my mouth, rolling them around and savouring her secretions. Then, sliding two fingers into the tight grip of her passage, I flicked at her clit with the tip of my tongue. Her breathing shortened and I could feel her whole body tensing as a prelude to orgasm. I closed my lips around her clit and sucked strongly as I speeded up my finger-fucking. Without warning, Sam's pussy suddenly gripped my fingers hard and she let out a noise somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. At the same time, more thick moisture oozed over my hand. I sucked it from my fingers and as Sam came down, I continued to lick her pussy clean.

She was tugging at me to pull me back up to her level. "Oh, look," she whispered, "you're covered in my come. Here, I'll clean it for you." Holding me close, she licked all around my mouth and chin and that just got me going all over again. I straddled Sam so that our pussies were rubbing against one of each other's thighs and began to rock back and forth. Eyes glazed with lust, Sam responded and fastened her mouth to mine, tongue lashing furiously.

We clasped each other close in our arms and our kisses and caresses and our panting and our humping grew more and more frantic and I could feel it building up in me... and up... and up... then wham! I had my third massive orgasm of the night. To my great delight, it was mutual, Sam's loud moans and gasps telling me that she was coming off at the exact moment that I did. We embraced even more closely and a fine sheen of sweat combined with pussy secretions seemed to glue our bodies together. As we calmed, Sam gazed at me with something like wonder in her eyes. "Wow, that was something special, wasn't it?"

Still breathless, I could only nod agreement. We lay there contented in each other's arms, cuddling gently and swapping tiny kisses. I felt strangely tender towards this girl, a feeling that she was special... And so gradually, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, early morning light was filtering through the pane in the cabin door. I gazed down at Sam, who was still sleeping in my arms. Asleep, there was something wonderfully childlike in her appearance and I felt a sudden rush of emotion. I felt my breath catching in my throat, and a strange hollowness in my breast. I tried to figure it out. My heart was filled with warmth and protectiveness and longing and... love. My thoughts froze for a second. Love... Oh... I was in love with this girl.

My mind was in turmoil. I was in love with this girl. But how the hell could I be? We had only met a short while before and I have never believed in love at first sight or even at second or third sight. But it's said that when you meet the one, you'll know. And here I was, knowing that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life. So what was I to do about it? She'd think that I was crazy. What had we done? We'd met, talked for a while, watched a romantic film, and then shagged our brains out. And now I was in love and knew that I wouldn't say a thing about it because she would probably just tell me to fuck off.

At that moment, Sam's wonderful green eyes opened and she wriggled against me like a contented kitten. She gave me a little kiss and said: "Good morning, beautiful brown eyes." Then something in her demeanour changed and she sat up. Her face grim, she glanced at her watch and said abruptly: "We'd better move. I'm on duty in an hour and we'll be docking shortly after that.

"Come on, we'll shower together." Her tone sounded grudging. "The stall's small but we should manage okay." She added: "Smells a bit in here."

"Eau de pussy," I told her but neither of us laughed.

We each had a pee and then climbed into the shower. It was cramped but we managed. We washed one another but there was no joy in it, just tension. After drying off I donned my dress and sat for a moment on the bunk, watching Sam clothing herself. There was that wonderful night behind us and now this. Sam still had that set look on her face and once or twice she seemed about to say something but, changing her mind, shook her head. I reckoned that was it—I was a one-night stand, just another notch on her bedpost. I had guessed right. I had fallen in love with Sam but she was steeling herself to give me the bum's rush. Well, I believe in going before I'm thrown out.

Struggling to hold back tears, I stood and moved to the door, reaching out to the handle. "I guess this was a mistake, Sam, so I'll just get out of your way now."

"No!" Sam reached out and grabbed at my hand, pulling me back. Suddenly she was weeping. "No, don't go, Emma. It hasn't been a mistake, it's been wonderful. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting this morning. It's just that I was scared of what you might think and say... I've got a confession to make."

I hesitated. "What?"

She sat, shaking her head. "I don't normally do this—sleeping with passengers, I mean." It was as if she had read my thoughts of a moment ago. "You're the first... and the last... I don't know what you'll think of me but... I love you, Emma."

"What?"

"I love you. It was love at first sight for me. When I saw you coming up the gangway yesterday afternoon, I knew you were the one for me. It's madness, but that's how it is. I hung around the deck half the evening, hoping to get another glimpse of you. When I saw you standing at the taffrail, I thought it was a sign. And now you'll probably want nothing more to do with this crazy woman."

I flopped down beside Sam, taking her hands in mine. My tears were spilling now. "God, Sam, I've fallen in love with you, too, and I thought you couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"Get rid of you?" She hugged me tightly. "God no, I want you around for ever."

We clutched each other and wept and sniffled for a while and when our tears dried we tried to repair the damage with tissues. Then Sam became practical. "I've had a lot of affairs but I've never really been in love. Have you, Emma?"

"No—plenty of sex and lots of affection, but never real love."

"You're on the island for a week, right? Let's just make that a week of respite, as if we'd not met. Then when the ferry comes back next week, we'll see if we still feel the same way. Let's just be sure this is no flash-in-the-pan. Now, it's something to do with the tides but next week's journey back will also be at night. We'll decide our futures then. Deal?" She held out a hand.

I shook on it. "Deal. Oh, sod it! Kiss me again, Sam Parry, and then our week begins."

The story continues in Chapter 2. 



The Twelfth of Never Ch. 02



Emma's story continues. If you haven't already read Chapter 1, I suggest that you do so that you know the characters and what is happening with them. This is a longish love story but you'll have to wait for the sex. If you want a short 'Wham, bam, thank you Ma'am' tale with no plot, then there are plenty of those elsewhere on this site. Characters in sex scenes are eighteen years old or over. All characters are imaginary---any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2014 to the author. 

***** 

Sam was punctiliously correct as we left the ferry. "Thank you, madam," as I passed her, "I do hope that you enjoyed the trip." I think she gave me a tiny wink but I couldn't be certain, it was that swift. 

Our transport was waiting at the bottom of the gangway, a plump, cheerful-looking woman standing by a pony and trap. A little way behind was a weather-beaten older man with a larger horse and cart. The woman came forward to shake my hand. "You'll be Emma and these your lovely nieces. I'm Mrs Cudmore, one of the island's caretakers, and I'm here to take you to Mr LeStrange's place. There are no motors on the island, we use the trap to get around." She nodded towards the man. "That's my husband, here to pick up the supplies." 

The girls were delighted with the unusual transport and clambered into the back of the trap with our bags while I sat at the front with Mrs Cudmore. I turned to have one last look at Sam but she had disappeared. I felt hurt briefly, and then told myself not to be stupid. She must have other duties and it would look odd for her to stand there just to wave goodbye to one passenger. 

The drive to Alan's villa took about half-an-hour along narrow lanes flanked by tall hedgerows. Mrs Cudmore chatted away, telling me about the island and about themselves. They shared the duties, living month-and-month about on the island with another couple during the spring, summer and autumn seasons. The island's owners ensured they had other well-paid work during their months off. In winter everything was closed down because for much of the time the seas made it difficult—almost impossible—to reach the island. Maintenance crews arrived early spring to check that everything was in good order. At the moment, it seemed, we were the only visitors, all the other villas being unoccupied. 

Then we crested a slight rise and Alan's villa was below us. It was a substantial bungalow, painted white with a green-tiled roof. We could see a large patio out front, furnished with ample chairs and loungers surrounding a glittering blue swimming pool. Beyond the patio grassy land swept downwards to an area of trees and hedges. Beyond that, in the near distance, I could glimpse the sea. 

Mrs Cudmore showed us around the villa and the girls quickly claimed the bedrooms they fancied for themselves. There was an amply-stocked larder with fruit and vegetables and a huge freezer contained all that we would need for the coming week. The place had its own generator which we were assured had been recently serviced and was reliable. Fresh water came from a series of springs beneath the island and was just about as pure as it could get. The only problem was, she told us, that we couldn't get a mobile phone signal on the island but they did have their own private internal landline. The Cudmores communicated with their employers off-island by radio. 

"Just one other thing, my dears," she said before leaving us, "don't go swimming in the sea. The currents round here are treacherous and you could get into serious trouble." 

We went to our various rooms to unpack (not difficult because we were all travelling light) and then met out by the pool. I had put on a light sarong over my bikini and the girls were all in swim-wear. 

Amy was wearing a huge grin. "I've always wanted a place with its very own swimming pool and now I've got one for a week." 

The three girls looked absolutely lovely. Sophie and Beth were both taller than me by about two or three inches. They were within weeks of their nineteenth birthdays and due to go to university shortly. I know that we were all distantly related and Sophie's colouring was not unlike mine although her chestnut-brown hair was far longer and tied back in a ponytail. Beth took after her father's side of the family rather than the Wainwrights. She had an abundance of flame-red curls tumbling about her shoulders and the pale skin which so often goes with her colouring. Little Amy's hair was a lighter brown than Sophie's but again her colouring was similar to mine. Little Amy! I said—at not quite thirteen she was almost as tall as me and probably on her way to near six foot by the time she stopped growing. 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Amy demanded. I whipped off my sarong and swung it round my head, laughing, before throwing it onto the nearest chair. Then we all dived into the pool, splashing about like big kids. 

That evening, after supper, we discovered a fifty-inch TV monitor in a cabinet together with a DVD player and a cupboard revealed a huge library of DVDs. They covered just about every genre of cinema, including many classics, and the girls opted to watch Sleepless in Seattle. I didn't want to spoil their enjoyment so I said nothing about having seen it the previous night. We huddled together on a huge sofa and we all heaved a collective sigh at the final scene. 

In bed that night, thinking of Sam, I brought myself off three times, as quietly as I could, before going to sleep. 

The wardrobes in my room had mirrored doors and when the girls went to the pool after breakfast, I thought that I would check myself out. I'm five-six tall and my chestnut hair was cut in a Louise Brooke bob, the silent star being a pin-up of mine when I was a girl. I love the style, I've had it for years and I doubt I'll ever change. I've always cared for my hands and feet and both were very presentable with nice, neat nails. My face... well, I've got a pleasant face but I've always considered myself to be ordinary, even bordering on the plain. Still, Sam told me I was lovely so I guess that's all that matters. My best feature is my large brown eyes, very much like those of Clara Bow, another silent era pin-up of mine. (In case you think I'm living too far in the past, other pin-ups included Audrey Hepburn, Natalie Wood, Leslie Caron, Sigourney Weaver and Katharine Ross—no boy bands or sportsmen for me, thank you.) 

Travelling downwards, my 34B breasts are quite perky and I'm very proud of my large areolas and thick, dark-red nipples which are extra sensitive. I keep myself in good condition and so my belly was flat and my backside and legs shapely. Then I looked at my pubes. 

Oh. My. God. During the long months of the work project, although keeping my underarms smooth, I had neglected pubeland and my bush had gone wild. I have always been luxuriant down there but usually kept it well trimmed. Now anybody seeing me naked from a distance could be forgiven for thinking that I was wearing a dark bikini bottom. I opened my legs and couldn't even see my slit. How the hell had Sam found her way in there? Come to that, how the hell had I found my way in there when masturbating? I thought of how lovely Sam's bare pussy had looked and decided that this called for action. 

I had a tube of top quality depilatory cream in my toiletries bag and decided to go for the full monty, the Sam look. I gathered together cream, scissors and lots of tissue paper and, with great care, set to work. About forty-five minutes or so later, kitty was free and looking out on the world. I returned to the mirror to admire my new look. 

I was very pleased with the result and decided that I had a rather attractive pussy. I played a forefinger up and down my dampening slit and was tempted to continue. But then if any of the girls had turned unexpectedly, I would have found it difficult to explain what I was doing with a finger or two up my snatch. In the end I just went outside to join the them in the pool. 

The girls asked me to pick the film that evening and having always loved old films, I chose Singin' in the Rain. I wasn't sure how they'd feel about a musical more than fifty years old but they loved it and appointed me the week's film picker. As lovely, tactless Amy put it: "You're so old, Aunt Emma, that you must know a lot of really good old films." Sophie told her not to be cheeky and she looked bewildered. "What'd I say? What'd I say?" 

When Singin' in the Rain finished, Amy jumped up and started dancing round the room, singing a song from the film. She seemed to be having so much fun that we all got up and joined in. Thereafter, I chose a musical each night and we always followed it up with a little dance session. Childlike, perhaps, but immensely enjoyable. Among the films I chose were High Society, Moulin Rouge (we all wept buckets when Nicole Kidman's character died), Grease and Meet Me in St Louis. 

During the showing of Singin' in the Rain, I'd spotted something that I hadn't noticed the previous night. Sophie and Beth were sitting very close together and they were holding hands. 

I had been a bit worried about Sophie. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something seemed to be amiss with her. She was usually bright and bubbly and full of bounce but since we had started on the holiday she had seemed a little subdued. Neither Beth nor Amy had commented, so perhaps it was just me seeing something that wasn't there. Then the morning after Singing in the Rain she didn't dive into the pool with the rest of us but said that she was going for a walk. She walked down the slope beyond the patio and disappeared onto a narrow path that ran between the trees and hedgerows. 

I gave her about 30 minutes and then decided to follow, to see if I could find out what was wrong. Pulling on shorts and t-shirt, and telling Beth and Amy that I wouldn't be too long, I set out in Sophie's footsteps. Within minutes I was walking among shadows cast by the heavy foliage. The path under foot was stony but I was okay wearing flip-flops. 

After about five minutes walking, I noticed a small side path off to the right and wandered down there to check. Very quickly the undergrowth petered out and I found myself standing on a rocky outcrop leading down to the sea. Sophie wasn't there but there was a number of rock-pools filled with clear water. One of them was sufficiently large to swim in, being about twelve feet across and probably eight to ten feet deep. I could see marine plants and small crabs and shellfish on the bottom. This would be a good place to bathe and would make a novel change from the villa's pool. 

But that was not what I was here for. I still had to find Sophie, so made my way back to the main path and carried on. Then I heard moans and caught my breath, thinking that Sophie was in trouble, had hurt herself. I dashed forward and the path suddenly ended in a sharp right-hand turn. What I saw made me pull back quickly. Here was another outcrop leading to the sea, with large flat slabs of rock on one of which a gazebo had been constructed and bolted down. And almost filling the gazebo was the largest sun-bed that I had ever seen, being easily the size of a double-bed. And lying on the sun-bed was Sophie. 

I don't think she would have seen me. She was facing towards me but she was lying supine and the moans I had heard were explained. Sophie had stripped off her shorts and she was masturbating. Her breathing was fast and uneven and I think she was near to coming off. Seconds later she jerked two or three times and gave a little cry. But that didn't finish her—she continued fingering herself, obviously intent on coming again. 

The sight aroused me and I could feel myself getting wet. I retreated and returned to the rock-pools. Pushing a hand into my shorts, I used two fingers to relieve myself, choking down my urge to cry out as I climaxed. Then whipping off t-shirt and shorts, I jumped into the largest rock-pool. The water was freezing but it certainly cooled my ardour, not to mention making my nipples stand out like bullets. 

About 15 minutes later I was walking back to the main path and almost crashed into Sophie. 

"Emma! What are you doing here?" 

"Just exploring." Well, it was partly true. 

She stepped towards me and sniffed. "I can smell the sea on you," she accused, "You know what Mrs Cudmore said about the currents round here. What would we have done if something happened to you?" 

"Don't worry, I haven't been near the sea," I told her, "I've found some lovely rock-pools and had a swim in one." I grabbed her hand. "Come and have a look." So I plunged into the freezing water again to keep Sophie company. It had the same effect on her nipples that it had on mine. 

When we got back to the villa, Beth told us that Mrs Cudmore had phoned, offering to take two of us fishing the following day. I called her back and she apologised that it could only be two. "Our boat's quite small. We'll take great care of whoever comes and make sure that they wear life jackets." 

There was some discussion amongst us, each girl offering to let the other two go. In the end, Sophie clinched the argument by saying that she got seasick easily and was therefore unlikely to appreciate the trip. So it was that Beth and Amy went off early with the Cudmores and Sophie and I were left to a quiet day by the pool. Or so I thought. 

About an hour after the girls had gone, I said: "You don't get seasick, do you Sophie?" 

"No," she replied, "I wanted some time alone with you to talk. Will you come for a walk with me, Emma? We could go and look at the rock-pools again." 

"Okay." As we walked down the concealed path, Sophie reached out and took my hand. She said nothing and we walked in silence. When we reached side path and I made to turn off, Sophie pulled me back. "Not yet, Emma, there's something else I'd like you to see." She led me further on until we reached the rocky area where the gazebo stood. Feigning surprise, I said: "This is lovely, Sophie. How did you know it was here?" 

"I found it yesterday when I walked this way. Can we go and sit down, Emma? I need to talk to you, to get your advice." She led me to the gazebo and we sat on the edge of the huge sun-bed, Sophie still holding my hand in both of hers. She looked uncertain and avoided my eyes. "Emma, I think I'm gay like you." 

"Only think, sweetheart? You're not sure?" 

"I think I'm sure... I want to be sure, but I don't know what to do. Emma, when did you know you were gay?" 

"Damn near from the time I was a small girl," I said. I put a finger under Sophie's chin and turned her head so that she had to look at me. "Come on, Sophie, you can talk to me and anything you tell me will be between us unless you say otherwise." 

"I think about girls all the time—have done for years. I fantasise about girls when I... when I..." Sophie blushed. 

"When you masturbate?" She nodded, obviously discomfited, then said: "I've got a book of glamour shots at home and I sometimes use that to get off." 

"I used to look at my film star pin-ups," I said. I squeezed her hand, thinking the poor girl would be mortified if she knew that I had seen her doing it. "Sophie, darling, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Most of us do it at one time or another. I've done it at least a half-dozen times since we've been here, thinking about someone who's become very special to me. I'll probably do it another half-dozen before we go. Sophie, have you ever had sex?" 

"Yes," she mumbled. 

"With a girl?" 

She shook her head. "With a boy, a few months ago. And it was horrible." It seemed obvious that she wanted to get this off her chest and so I listened as her words came tumbling out." 

"He was maybe a year older than me and supposed to be the stud of the school, the great lover. He used to brag about having all the girls. And a lot of the girls bragged about having had sex. And then he started pursuing me. I was pretty sure then that I'm gay and wasn't interested but he kept pestering me and I was the only virgin in my class. It was still only girls who interested me really but I wanted to conform, be one of the gang. So I gave in and agreed to go out with him. 

"He took me to the cinema a couple of times and then the second evening he shagged me up against a wall, or he tried to. It was so romantic. He pulled his thing out and had me pump it up and down for a few minutes but he didn't bother to try to get me wet—I don't think he even knew that girls should be wet. He just thrust at me—he didn't even get it properly inside me. I think my playing with it was too much for him—he just touched the outside of my quim and popped off. He even had the nerve to tell me to treasure that because nobody else would be as good as him. I might have been innocent but I wasn't that fucking innocent. The great lover—great flop more like. And then he just walked off leaving me there with his stuff running down my leg. Didn't even have a condom so I worried until my next period started." 

"You poor girl." I held Sophie close and stroked her hair, "It's probably no comfort, Sophie, but I've found that those who brag the most are often the ones who've done it least. And I very much doubt that you were the only virgin in your class—you were probably the only one honest about it." 

"Have you ever had sex with a man, Emma?" 

"Once." I told her briefly about Jacob. "From the sound of it, it was a damned sight better than your experience." 

"Anyway, after that I knew that I wanted nothing more to do with boys," Sophie continued, "I dreamt about girls, I wanted girls but I didn't know how to go about it. I say 'girls' but now it's just one girl, one special girl. I've fallen in love with her, Emma, she's all that I want and I'm scared to do anything about it. I'm sure I'm gay but..." Her voice trailed off. 

"Do you want to tell me who she is, this special girl?" Sophie shook her head. 

"Okay, sweetheart, that's okay. Now on the face of it, I think that you probably are gay. It's as much about emotional connections as physical. But really, it's your call—nobody else can decide for you." An idea popped into my head. I tried to dismiss it but it persisted. "Sophie, are you willing to try something that might help you be sure about your sexuality." 

"Yes, Emma, anything." 

"Then close your eyes." I took her face in my hand s and pressed my lips gently against hers. I did nothing more than that, simply maintained a very light pressure for perhaps fifteen seconds or so. "How did that feel? Good?" When Sophie nodded, eyes still closed, I said: "Let's try it a bit further." 

I kissed her again, lingering this time, and when I ended the kiss I nipped Sophie's lower lip very softly between my teeth. "Do you feel comfortable with that?" I asked. 

Wide-eyed, Sophie nodded again. She gave a little sigh and her arms crept around my neck. Sophie initiated the next kiss. Her lips were parted slightly and the tip of her tongue pressed against my mouth. I responded and our lips and tongues played tenderly for what must have been a good minute. Reluctantly, I pulled away because my honeypot was tingling and demanding attention. "Did that help?" 

"Oh yes..." Sophie's voice was dreamy. "Oh yes, Emma, that certainly helped. I can't imagine any boy's kisses being so lovely." She laid her head on my shoulder and was quiet for so long that I thought she had gone to sleep. Then she said: "Emma, will you make love to me, please? I think I'm ready..." 

That put me in a quandary. My head was shouting No! but my body was shouting Yes! "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Sophie," I told her. As I was speaking, I was aware of a nigh uncontrollable twitch down below. Mentally I may have been on the side of restraint but my pussy totally lacked a conscience. 




The Twelfth of Never Ch. 02



"Emma, there's only one person I'd sooner lose my virginity to, and I'm scared to approach her in case she rejects me. Please, Emma, you're such a lovely person and it would be just once. I really need to be sure." 

By now my pussy was very wet and very demanding and I threw my better judgment to the winds. "Okay, Sophie, this once." I got rid of my clothes, casting the garments to one side. I sat up with my legs apart. "Come and sit here, sweetheart," I told her. 

Sophie shucked her shorts and t-shirt and she'd obviously had a Brazilian recently because her pubes were bare save for a narrow landing strip of hair. Doing as I bid, she sat with her back to me. She snuggled into me and I started planting a series of tiny kisses around her neck and shoulders. I could feel my nipples stiffening against Sophie's back and I put my arms around her to cup her breasts. In their turn, her nipples swiftly became erect, stabbing into my palms as I caressed and tweaked them. I continued to nuzzle her neck, occasionally turning her head towards me so that I could kiss her mouth. She responded eagerly, her tongue welcoming and sucking at mine. All the time, I fondled her breasts and torso, slowly moving my hands down towards her pussy. 

My fingers wandered over the tiny strip of hair and onto her bare slit which by now was very wet. At that moment, I was quite certain of Sophie's sexuality. I slipped a finger into her and her hips jerked as she gave a little cry. As to be expected, she was very tight but wet enough to ease the passage of my finger. I tried a second finger and while it was more difficult, Sophie was able to accommodate it. I began to finger-fuck her but very carefully. I sucked the fingers of my other hand to moisten them thoroughly and moved them to her clit, circling and rubbing the tiny nub as tenderly as possible. Sophie's body jerked again and her breathing became slow and heavy. 

She came with a little cry and turned so that she could throw her arms around me. "Oh, thank you, Emma, that was so lovely." She kissed my throat and hugged me tightly. 

"That was just a starter, sweetheart," I told her, "I think you'll like the main course even more." I laid Sophie on her back and my mouth and hands played with her breasts and body for quite a long time until her breathing became heavy and languorous. Then I spread her legs so that I could part her pussy lips. I have seen all manner of inner lips, small, large, sparse, thick, thin, hidden, protruding, floppy, and with quite a range of colours from pink through to dark grey, almost blackish. I think Sophie's were among the most attractive I've seen. Although swollen with desire, they were tiny and delicate and the very palest of lavender shades. Apart from that, her honeypot was pearly-pink and shone with lubrication. "You've got a very pretty pussy," I told her as I took one of those delightful inner lips in my mouth and nibbled on it with lips and tongue. 

Sophie twitched when I did this and she sighed a name. I'm certain she didn't even realize that she'd done it. "Oh, Beth..." she breathed. 

I spent a long time laving her pussy with my tongue; one—to give her as much pleasure as I could, and two—she tasted so clean and fresh, like a whisper from a crystal sea, that I wanted to prolong it for my pleasure. At last I turned my attention to her clit. I coaxed the tiny seed from its hood and took it between my lips to suck, at the same time easing my middle finger inside her. 

This time she came hard, crying out loudly and clutching me to her fiercely as thick come oozed from her. Her body shook and she panted hard and then she started giggling like the girl/woman she was. "My God, Emma, I've never felt anything like that before. Thank you, oh thank you... Is it always like that?" 

"Not always---orgasms are like so many other things, they can vary enormously," I told her, "Sometimes it will just make you feel warm and cosy and relaxed, other times it can take you by surprise and leave you breathless or it can be mad and brilliant, and then there are occasions when you'll think you've gone to heaven." 

Sophie gave me a big kiss. "Well, thank you for showing me heaven my first time," she said, "I wish I'd discovered this before I let that stupid boy try to shag me." We just cuddled together for a some minutes and then Sophie said: "Can I do it to you now, Emma?" 

I was busting for relief but still reluctant to take advantage. "Sophie, you don't have to do anything." 

"I want to give you some pleasure, Emma, even if I'm not very good at it," Sophie replied. 

Well, she was right there—she wasn't very good at it but then I didn't expect her to be. I remembered that my own early fumbling probably left much to be desired. There was no finesse but then she needed to learn like we all do, and that takes time. She gave me a perfunctory kiss or two and squeezed and sucked my tits and then dived straight into my snatch with eager fingers, so eager that I was glad she didn't have long fingernails. As it was, she made me jump a bit. Then she began licking me with a great deal of enthusiasm and a great lack of skill. But I was already so worked up that it didn't matter. She did look up at one point to say something like: "Oh, Emma, I didn't dream that it could taste as good as this." 

I did come eventually with a loud gasp. It wasn't the greatest orgasm in the world but... I pulled Sophie back up, saying: "Thank you, sweetheart, that was lovely and you were just perfect." 

We lay there cuddling for a while and then Sophie said: "Thank you for telling me that, Emma. I know I was a bit clumsy." 

I took her face in my hands. "Look, sweetheart, we all have to learn. I said that I've found someone special—well, she and I have both been around the block a few times, but I bet that with each other we'll still be learning. Now I've no idea who you're in love with—liar! I think I know exactly who it is—but when you do get together, then you'll find that the best way to learn is learning together with someone you love. 

"Okay, lecture over. Now we'd better go and dive into that rock pool. We both stink of sweat and pussy." 

"Do we have to? It's a lovely smell." 

"Yes, but it's a hot day and by the time the others get back we'll be pretty rancid." 

As we walked to the rock pool, I felt a sudden stab of guilt. I'd just met Sam, had fallen deeply in love with her, and I'd been unfaithful already. I said a stab of guilt—that's wrong. The guilt scourged me. Something must have showed in my face because Sophie asked me what was the matter. 

"Nothing much," I lied, "I've just thought of something I should have done and forgot about. It's not important." But it was important to me and I was wracked with self-inflicted pain. 

When we got back to the villa, Sophie, showing a wisdom beyond her years, hugged me and said: "Thank you for making things right for me, Emma. Now I think perhaps what's gone is gone and we should never mention it again." 

We spent the rest of the day lounging by the pool and talking about inconsequential things. The other girls returned from their fishing trip with their catch which Mr Cudmore had gutted and cleaned. We made a very good supper that evening with the catch. Afterwards we had our film and dance. This was the night we watched High Society and my eyes filled with tears when Crosby sang 'I Love You, Samantha' but I don't think the girls noticed. Throughout the film Sophie and Beth sat squeezed together, holding hands. 

The rest of the week passed uneventfully until the penultimate morning. We just lazed around and swam and sunbathed and ate and generally had fun during the days and enjoyed our films and little dances at night. I relaxed as much as I could but I was still tearing myself to pieces over my perceived betrayal of Sam. Then on the day before we were due to go home, I was once again called into service as an agony aunt. 

As usual, the girls were in the pool so I had a shower and then sat naked on my bed, painting my toenails. While doing so, I just let my mind wander to Sam and the memory of our night together and those three wonderful orgasms and I started to feel slightly randy. There was a little knock at my door and Beth peeped in. "Emma, can I ask you for some advice?" 

"Of course, honey." I waved Beth in and indicated a chair opposite, all the time continuing with my pedicure. She said nothing and after some seconds of waiting, I looked up to see what was wrong. Beth was sitting and staring right at my crotch. I glanced down and although I couldn't see a lot from that angle, I realized that my memories of love-making with Sam had affected my pussy. She was slightly open and visibly moist. 

"Oh, what a lovely quim," Beth breathed, almost as if to herself, "I'll bet it's all hot and squishy inside." And then as if suddenly realizing that she had spoken out loud, clapped a hand over her mouth as she went brick red. Blurting out: "Oh God! I'm so sorry Emma!" she stood and made a dash for the door. 

I grabbed Beth and made her sit again saying: "Sorry about that—I was thinking about someone special and my body just reacted." I wrapped a robe around myself. "There, kitty's out of sight. Now why did you want to speak to me, Beth?" 

It took quite a few minutes for the poor girl to get over her embarrassment and talk to me. Then when she did start to talk, I had a strong sense of déja vu. "Emma, I'm like you. I'm gay." It was beginning to sound as if it was infectious. 

"Are you sure, Beth? Do you know you're gay or do you just think you are?" 

"Oh, I know... I've known for years. 'It's never worried me much, but now... well, I'm really in love with someone and I don't know how to tell her. I'm so afraid that she'll be disgusted and want nothing more to do with me." 

I could guess who but first I said: "Are you a gay virgin, Beth?" 

"Well... sort of..." 

I felt laughter bubbling up but Beth looked so serious I suppressed it. "Beth, darling, you can't be a sort of virgin, you either are or you aren't." 

"It's like this, Emma... there was this girl at school once and we used to snog and rub each other up, but only on the outside of our knickers." 

What it was to be young and innocent... "Okay, I take your point," I said, "You're a sort of virgin. Now more importantly, Beth, are you willing to tell me who you're in love with?" 

She leaned towards me and whispered. "It's Sophie. We've always been best friends and like sisters, Emma, but I fell properly in love with her several years ago. I've never said anything to her and now I'm so scared that she'll hate me for it." 

I took one of her hands in both of mine. "Beth, every evening when we've watched a film, I've noticed that you and Sophie sit really close and hold hands. Which one of you started that?" 

Beth looked puzzled. "I don't really know. It just seemed to happen." 

"Look at this way then... If you started it and Sophie didn't object, then she's comfortable with it and might be interested. If she started it, I'd say that she is definitely interested. And if it was mutual, I'd guess that it was a good sign. Tell you what, after our little session tonight, I'll get Amy and myself off to bed early so that you can talk to Sophie about this. The worst thing that can happen is she'll say no. If she does, it'll break your heart but broken hearts do heal given time. However, I've got a sneaking suspicion that what you say to her will be welcomed. Don't keep it bottled up—give it a try." 

That evening, I sent Amy off to bed earlier than usual, saying that she looked tired, which she did, probably a result of all the fresh air and evening fun. She made some protest but started yawning heavily so pushed off to her room. I stayed up a bit longer for appearance sake and then pleading tiredness myself, I went to bed, leaving Sophie and Beth alone. 

I donned my pyjamas, read for about fifteen minutes and then, feeling thirsty, I got up to go to the kitchen for a bottle of mineral water. The door to the sitting room was slightly ajar and I could see the older girls sitting on the sofa, facing each other with their hands clasped together. "...and you really mean it?" Beth was saying. 

"Of course, silly," said Sophie, "Can't you tell? I love you to bits, Beth. You're the most precious thing in my life." 

"And I love you, Sophie!" They threw their arms around one another and their lips met. 

I forewent my bottle of water. I just crept quietly back to my room. 

I had a dream that night. There were blue skies and blazing sunshine and I was walking... no, I was half-running along a beach somewhere and I was being pursued. I knew who was chasing me. It was Sam. I kept repeating, "Leave me alone, Sam, I don't deserve you. I've let you down." 

A pair of arms grabbed me round the waist, a body pressed against my back, and insistent fingers sought my pussy. I heard Sam's voice saying: "I love you, Emma, and you're not going to get away from me that easily." 

And then I awoke... 

The story concludes in Chapter 3.



The Twelfth of Never Ch. 03



Emma's story continues. If you haven't already read Chapters 1 & 2, I suggest that you do so that you know the characters and what is happening with them. This is a longish love story but you'll have to wait for the sex. If you want a plotless quick thrill, then there are plenty of those elsewhere on this site. Characters in sex scenes are eighteen years old or over. All characters are imaginary—any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. 

Several years ago I read a magazine article—titled 'My Big Fat Gay Wedding'—by a woman journalist about her civil partnership ceremony. It was the memory of that article that in small part inspired a little bit of this chapter... It's unlikely that she'll read this story but if she does, thanks. 

Copyright © 2014 to the author. 

I came out of the dream, Sam's words still echoing in my head: "I love you, Emma, and you're not going to get away from me that easily." For a few moments after waking, I imagined that I could still feel her body pressed against my back until the dream completely faded. I half-sat up, glancing at the bedside clock. It showed a little after 1:30 in the morning. My feelings of guilt were still there, and knowing that I wouldn't sleep again immediately, I got up and wandered to the kitchen to get some water. 

I could see the kitchen light on and I found Amy there, sitting at the table with a glass of juice and a plateful of chocolate chip cookies. "I'm sorry, Aunt Emma, I didn't mean to disturb you." 

"That's okay, honeybunch, you didn't disturb me." I fetched my glass of water and sat beside Amy, picking up a cookie to nibble at. "But what are you doing here?" 

"I had a really bad dream and it frightened me a lot, so I got up and went to Sophie's room but her door was locked." Amy rolled her eyes, as if bemused by the weird ways of elder sisters. "So then I felt peckish and here I am. Why are you up, Aunt Emma?" 

"Oh, a dream woke me too, although mine wasn't really bad." We sat in companionable silence for a while, eating the cookies. Then out of the blue, Amy said: "Have you ever had a boy-friend, Aunt Emma?" 

Now this was an odd question because Amy knew that I was gay but I replied. "I've had friends that are boys, but no boy-friends. Why do you ask?" 

I think that Amy was laying the ground to confide in me. "I've got a boy-friend—" she pondered for a moment "—or I think I have. There's a boy in my class at school called Carl. I really like him and I think he likes me. We always have our lunch together and share our sandwiches. We went to the cinema last week and we held hands." 

"That sounds as if he really does like you," I said, "So why don't you go back to bed again and perhaps your next dream will be about your cute Carl." 

Amy hugged me. "Okay. You know, Aunt Emma, you're really super and I do love you." 

"I love you, too, sweetie. Now, bed, before the Sandman comes to get you." 

"Oh, Aunt Emma, I'm too old for fairy tales." 

"Nobody's too old for fairy tales, and don't you forget it. Still, if you prefer it this way—" I put on a tone of mock ferocity, "—go to bed this instant or I'll thrash you within an inch of your life." 

Giggling, Amy kissed my cheek and left. I stayed for a while, knowing sleep wouldn't come easily to me for my mind was filled with my betrayal of Sam. 

I finally returned to bed and woke at about eight. There was a light tap at my door and Sophie came in, carrying a tray with a pot of tea, toast, and some fruit slices. She poured me a cup and then sat on the edge of the bed. Her face was radiant and I could see that she was busting to tell me something. First, though, she thanked me for looking after Amy in the night. 

"No bother," I told her, "I think the chocolate chip cookies were more of a comfort than I was. She's okay this morning?" 

"Yes, full of life and having fun in the pool as usual. Emma, Beth and I... well, we're in love. And from what Beth told me, we've got you to thank for finally admitting it to ourselves." Sophie took my hand in hers and kissed it. "But... Emma, what do we tell the family? Do we come out to them? After all, we're first cousins and that might not go down well." 

I thought for a moment. "The family all accepted it okay when I came out and I was a couple of years younger than you two are now. On the other hand, I wasn't in a proper relationship. But I think both your parents will be as accepting as the family was to me. Can I suggest that you both come out if you wish to but keep your personal relationship quiet for a while, though? Wait until you're settled at university and then tell them. As for being first cousins, most churches accept cousins marrying now so that should be fine. When we get home, I'll give you the telephone number of a group that advises gay teenagers. They helped me quite a bit back then. 

"In the meantime, every few weekends I'll invite you both to my place for a girly shopping spree and you can be together then. And sometimes I might go away and you can be flat-sitters for me—that'll give you the privacy you need." 

Sophie gave me a joy-filled hug. "Thanks, Emma, you're the greatest." 

I kissed her cheek. "Right. Now shoo, because the greatest wants to take a shower." 

When I came outside, Sophie and Amy were splashing around in the pool. Beth came up to me and I got my second big hug of the morning. "Thanks, Emma, it went just the way you thought it might. But how did you know that Sophie felt the same way about me?" 

"Just call it inspired guesswork," I lied. 

"By the way," Beth grinned, "That virginity thing... It's no longer 'sort of '." 

As Sam had told me when we arrived, the return ferry journey would again be at night. To pass the day, we made up a picnic and spent the morning down by the rock-pools. In the afternoon Amy begged for a last film and so I chose Gigi. When it finished, we all danced around singing 'The Night They Invented Champagne'. We were all packed and ready when Mrs Cudmore came to take us to the jetty. 

"I'm going to miss this," said Sophie, "It's been lovely." She had written a very thoughtful letter of thanks to Alan LeStrange and had insisted that Beth and Amy did the same. I was proud of her for that. 

At the ferry, I saw Sam standing at the top waiting to greet us. She looked beautiful, even in that awful uniform, and my heart just melted. We made our thanks and goodbyes to Mrs Cudmore and went up the gangway where I handed our tickets to Sam. "I hope you all enjoyed your holiday Miss... er..." Sam peered at the tickets as if to remind her of my name. "Ah yes, Miss Wainwright. You're in the same cabin as before." 

As the girls went ahead with our bags, Sam whispered: "Same time, same place tonight." 

"Top of the Empire State Building," I said and she nodded. 

As on the outward journey, Beth dragged Amy off for a game of pool and then we all met in the restaurant where the Caesar salad had not improved. I don't like burgers myself, but I half-envied the girls who seemed to relish theirs. Later, Sophie came for a stroll round the deck with me while Beth and Amy went to their bunks. "You can go to bed if you want, Sophie," I told her, "I'm not tired and so I'll stay up for a while." 

"It's that little steward, isn't it?" said Sophie, "She's your special somebody. You both might have thought that you disguised it, but the looks on your faces when you saw each other were a dead giveaway. As for that ploy about forgetting your name, she'll never get an Oscar for that performance. And I looked back and saw you whispering together. Anyway, on the outward trip I noticed that your bunk hadn't been slept in although I said nothing." 

I didn't reply but may have nodded a little. I was already worrying about what I was going to say to Sam. 

Sophie kissed my cheek. "Goodnight, Emma. I hope that she's as nice as she looks. You really deserve someone nice." 

I went to the stern rail and waited. There was no moon tonight; it wouldn't rise for a couple of hours yet. But the sky was clear and there was a myriad of stars such as we rarely see on land because of light pollution. I thought that perhaps one day I'd like a place in the country where I could see skies like this often. And hopefully Sam would be there with me. 

Then there was that whiff of light floral scent and a voice behind me saying: "Hi there, would you like some company?" 

I turned. Sam was about two paces behind me, her arms open. I rushed to her for a hug, saying: "Sam, my lovely, lovely Sam." And then I burst into tears. 

"Emma, darling, whatever's the matter?" Sam led me to a nearby bench, sat me down and folded me in her arms while I sobbed my heart out. In time my tears slowed and I was able to speak without choking too much. "Sam, I've fallen so much in love with you and yet I've been unfaithful already." I stammered out what had happened with Sophie. I knew that I was running the risk of losing Sam but I knew too that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and I couldn't live with a lie. The guilt I would carry would probably become destructive. Deep down, while I was confessing, I was silently praying. 

I also told Sam about about Beth coming to see me and the subsequent change in the girls' relationship. Perhaps I had at least done some good there. 

"Do you recall the last thing we agreed on?" Sam said, "We hadn't made any commitment. We'd have a week's respite as if we'd never met to see if we still felt love for each other. Well, I still feel the same way: do you?" 

"Y-yes..." 

"And I'm ready now to commit to you, Emma. Are you prepared to make the same commitment?" 

"Yes, Sam," I said, "Now and for always." 

"Good. So I'll be honest with you. I've been feeling so hot this past week that if some young girl had offered it to me, I'd have jumped her bones without thinking. As it is, I've diddled myself silly every night just thinking about you." Then Sam said something, almost echoing the words from my dream. "I've waited years to fall in love with someone like you, Emma, and you're not going to escape now I've got you. When I saw you coming on board last week, you looked so beautiful that I totally lost my heart—for ever." 

Still feeling sorry for myself, I muttered: "But I'm not beautiful—you are but I'm not. I'm ordinary." 

Sam grabbed my face with both hands. "Now you listen to me, Emma Wainwright," she said fiercely, "Stop putting yourself down. You're far from ordinary. You are beautiful and you have the most gorgeous brown eyes I've ever seen. So if I hear you denying it again, I'll kick your arse, despite the fact that you're yards taller than me. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Sam," I said, voice meek. And the funny thing was, that in that moment I suddenly felt beautiful, although I must have looked a wreck after all the tears. I also had a moment of self-realization. That as Sam had obviously forgiven me, I had to forgive myself and not risk ruining further what we now had together. 

"Besides," Sam added, "what happened has helped to make two girls content and comfortable with their sexuality. Just think, they could still be torturing themselves, unsure and unhappy. Now though, thanks to you, they're certain of what they are and happy with each other. 

"I love you, Emma Wainwright, and believe me, it's once and for all." 

"And I love you, Sam..." I sought for some appropriate words and then remembered the old song that Dad used to sing to Hilary and me. "...until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you." 

Then I remembered something. "I've got a surprise for you, Sam." I took her hand and pulled it under my dress until it met my smooth pubes. 

"You've shaved. You did that for me, Emma?" 

"Yes. And I love it—it's going to stay that way." 

"Come on," said Sam, taking my hand and pulling me up from the bench, "Let's go to my cabin." 

You might think that we went straight off to make love. But we didn't. Make love, that is. Well, not for an hour or so, anyway. Instead, we sat on Sam's bunk and we talked. Oh, we cuddled and held hands and exchanged frequent little kisses (I fulfilled my earlier ambition to kiss all the freckles on her nose), but mainly we talked, getting to know each other. 

It was odd how many parallels there were in our lives. Like me, Sam had been aware of her sexuality from a fairly young age. She, too, had been seduced by an older teenage girl, in her case a girl who was babysitting Sam's younger brother. And like me, she hadn't needed much seducing. Apprehensive, she had come out to her family when she was seventeen and had been smothered with love and acceptance instead of rejection. We liked similar food and films and music and were both great fans of Dusty Springfield, not because she was gay but because we loved her singing. The only thing we disagreed on was our favourite song. I liked 'Going Back' most of all while Sam preferred 'The Look of Love'. Then Sam had a brainwave. "Let's have a new favourite Dusty song, just for ourselves. How about 'I Only Want To Be With You'?" In a sweet, husky voice, she sang the first couple of lines: 

"I don't know what it is that makes me love you so, 

I only know I never want to let you go..." 

Tears prickled at my eyes. "Yes, our song," I whispered. 

I suggested that Sam move into my flat when she started her new job but it turned out that she had already paid a deposit for a six months lease on a studio flat. If she backed out now, she stood to lose a hefty sum of money. So we agreed that during the working week, we would date like any new couple and that she would come and stay with me weekends. At the end of the six months, she would be free to move in with me. 

In the latter stages of all this talk, our kisses were becoming more frequent and lingering, and then slowly our tongues came into play and our caresses were more demanding. Sam squirmed her way onto my lap and nuzzled my neck. One by one, I carefully undid the buttons on her uniform shirt. This time she wasn't wearing a bra and I bent to place a soft kiss on each of those marvellous nipples then buried my face between her breasts to inhale that wonderful sweet Sam smell. Then I moved her shirt aside slightly so that I could reach and lick the nearest of her lovely underarms. 

Sam grabbed one of my hands and kissed and sucked each finger in turn. Going very slowly, it took her quite a while, during which time I could feel myself leaking heavily. When she had finished with my fingers, she kissed and licked her way up the palm of my hand, again taking her time, until she reached my wrist. She nipped a piece of skin in her teeth and then sucked hard. When she released me there was a perfect tiny love-bite right over my pulse. "There," said Sam, "I've put my mark on you, Emma Wainwright, and that means you're mine for ever." 

"And that's not long enough, but I guess it'll have to do," I told her before stopping her mouth up with lips and tongue. 

"God, Emma, I want to look at your fresh pussy now." Jumping off my lap, Sam shed her shirt and unzipped her uniform trousers which fell to the ground. She wasn't wearing any panties, either. I tugged off my dress and sat up, leaning back against the bulkhead with my legs splayed. Sam sat at the other end of the bunk and gazed longingly at my honeypot. "Wow," she breathed, "She is absolutely beautiful.." She reached out a forefinger and rubbed it gently between my lips so that it had a thick layer of juice which she then sucked off with a tiny moan. 

Reaching down, Sam used the fingers of one hand to open her pussy lips and plunged two fingers of the other hand into herself, rubbing frantically. "Quickly, Emma, bring yourself off for me. I want to see your face when you come." 

I followed suit and very soon the only sounds in the cabin were our moans and whimpers, our ragged panting, and lovely wet sounds from sopping and eager pussies. And all the time we gazed fervently into each other's eyes. We finished within seconds of one another and Sam snatched at my hand to suck off the juices, offering her own soaking fingers to my mouth. Then she fell into my arms and we kissed frenziedly, sucking and licking at our mouths and throats. 

"Lie down now, Emma," Sam ordered, "I want to eat your pussy. I want to lick you out until I'm smothered in your come." Other than the gentle making out while we were talking, there had been very little in the way of foreplay between us but we were both so worked up that there was little need. We had the rest of our lives for that. 

"Oh God, yes," I said, excited. "And I want to do it to you. Turn around so that we can do it together." 

Sam turned and straddled my head so that we were in a perfect sixty-nine and fell to worshipping my pussy with mouth and tongue and fingers. Sam's sodden and dripping pussy was over my face and I pushed a finger into her tight, slippery hole. When I took it out, a thick strand of sticky liquid followed to form a bridge between my finger and Sam's vagina. I invaded again, this time with two fingers. When I withdrew and parted them, a second rope of pussy-juice adhered to them. I sucked at the nectar on my fingers with relish. I don't think, with all the sex I'd had in my life, that I had ever tasted anyone as sweet as Sam. 

I plunged my nose and mouth and tongue into those wonderful folds to concentrate on giving Sam the same pleasure that she was giving me. I licked and kissed and fingered every little crevice, sucking at her inner lips and flicking at her clit with the tip of my tongue. And while I was doing all these things, I felt that I wanted to cry again but these would have been tears of sheer joy. 

I wrapped my arms around Sam's lower back to pull her in closer while she held my thighs tight as her lapping grew more and more rapid. I could feel my hips jerking and heard Sam making little crying noises and then I think we did it again. If our orgasms weren't simultaneous, they were pretty damned close. Even after so short a period, our bodies seemed to be well in tune with each other. Sam turned, breathless and flushed, and we kissed so that our wet mouths almost stuck together as we sucked our come from each other's lips and tongue. 

Satisfied for the moment, we rested. Because the bunk was narrow, Sam was lying more or less on top of me as we embraced closely. Her head was just a little below mine and I could smell the scent of her shampoo and the lovely flowery perfume she used and the overwhelming odour of unbridled girl sex. 

I felt so many emotions running through me at that moment: lust, longing, happiness, but above all, love... pure love. And then it occurred to me that the slightest mini-orgasm with Sam would be preferable to a sky rockets and fireworks orgasm with anyone else. I guess that's what love does for you. There was one more thing left for me to do. 

"Sam?" 

"Mmmm?" 

"I love you very much, Samantha Parry. Will you marry me?" 

Sam sat up, eyes sparkling as she covered my face with big, sloppy kisses. "Oh God, yes, yes, yes! I thought you'd never ask. I love you so." Then abruptly her manner changed. There was a set look on her face and her voice was sober, almost grim. "There's one very important question to settle if we're going to marry." 

I felt a jolt of sick apprehension. She was having second thoughts about forgiving me so easily. "What's that?" I whispered. 

"The question is this..." but she couldn't maintain her solemnity and dissolved in a fit of giggles. "...which one of us has to sleep in the wet patch?" 

"Oh, Sam!" I gave her bare arse a gentle, playful slap. Then, if at all possible, I held her even more closely and she sucked lazily on one of my nipples while quietly caressing those parts of my body she could reach. 




The Twelfth of Never Ch. 03



"Emma?" 

"Mmmm?" 

"Make love to me again, please. Very slowly." 

We didn't get much sleep that night. 

We showered together in the morning but this time there was no tension, only joy and laughter and love. If you haven't tried it, I can recommend a mutual orgasm in a shower stall built for one person. It does make the knees a bit shaky, though. 

When we were dressed, Sam opened the cabin door a little and peeped out. "Oh, shit! Lecherous Len's out there." 

"Who's Lecherous Len?" I asked. 

"Len Mead, one of the deckhands, thinks he's Casanova's reincarnation. He's harmless enough but he keeps asking me to go out with him—even when I tell him to fuck off, he thinks I'm just playing hard to get. God, even if I was totally straight and gagging for a length of cock he wouldn't stand a chance." 

I had to see this Adonis. I opened the door slightly to have a look. Further along the deck, working with a bucket and mop, was a small, scrawny man dressed in dungarees, bald but with a long, greasy fringe of hair hanging down over his ears. I doubted whether he'd stood near a razor for at least a week and a stub of cigarette adhered to his bottom lip. He was unlikely to see forty, or perhaps even fifty, again and if he thought women would find him attractive, then he obviously hadn't looked in a mirror for some time. 

I couldn't help laughing. "Why is it that so many men who think they're God's gift to women are such sleazeballs?" I asked Sam. 

"Beats the hell out of me." 

"Come on," I said, taking hold of Sam's hand, "Let's give him a quick thrill, something to talk about in the pub tonight." 

Leaving the cabin, we made as much noise as possible to attract attention and Lecherous Len immediately began to preen. Not one gorgeous woman but two to admire his manly person. I pulled Sam into a close embrace and planted a big wet kiss on her mouth. "Lovers and best friends for ever," I announced loudly. 

"Yes, lovers and best friends for ever," Sam echoed and returned my kiss with interest. We made sure that he could see our tongues hard at work. Then hand-in-hand, we walked past the goggling Len. 

"Morning, handsome," I said, "What's the matter? Haven't you ever see a lesbian before?" We managed to turn a corner by the end of the crew cabins before collapsing in a fit of laughter. 

When we reached the four-berth cabin, it was empty save for our bags piled neatly on the floor. I guessed the girls were at breakfast so we went to the restaurant and saw them sitting at a far corner table. Several other people, probably picked up at another island en route, were sitting around having breakfast. 

Amy spotted us first. "There's Aunt Emma now!" she shouted, "And she's got that lady steward with her." Then with her usual lack of tact: "And look, they're holding hands!" 

We went to join them. As we approached, Sophie had an "I-told-you-so" look on her face. I introduced my nieces then said: "Girls, this is Sam. We're going to be married." 

"Yeeehaah!" Amy jumped from her chair and high-fived us both before throwing her arms around us. Sophie and Beth weren't far behind and there we were, a hugging, clutching mass of females. And there was a scattering of applause from some of the other breakfasting passengers. 

"Can I be your best man, Emma?" said Sophie. 

"And can we be your bridesmaids?" asked Beth and Amy. 

Epilogue 

That was nine years ago and we've been together ever since. We had to wait some time for our 'marriage' for the new Civil Partnership law to come into effect but we made it about a year after we met. So I am now Emma Wainwright-Parry and Sam is Samantha Parry-Wainwright. 

Our plan to date was a good one, giving us, as it did, plenty of time to know one another better. And our love grew and grew. We met each other's families and found them to be as loving and welcoming as our own. 

Now, of course, the girls are all grown up. Sophie and Beth are also civil partners and both work in the theatre, Sophie in production and Beth in scenery and design. Their coming out to the family was accepted happily and I think before they did come out their relationship was fairly obvious. The only dissenting voice came from an elderly aunt who had been born in the early Twenties. But nobody took much notice because her self-appointed purpose in life was to contradict everyone and everything. Had the rest of the family disapproved, I'm sure she would have supported Sophie and Beth. 

Amy lives with her childhood sweetheart Carl and both are at the same university, training to be physiotherapists. Amy is as tactless as she ever was but still as loveable. And I think it's a good thing that Amy prefers men, otherwise the family might get the idea that I'm contagious. 

Shortly before our 'wedding' Sam was surprised and amused to receive a good wishes card from, of all people, Lecherous Len. He wrote: 

"Sam, 

Sorry if I was a nuisance but I didn't realise about you. Hope you and your 

girl are happy—what was it? Lovers and best friends for ever? Best wishes, 

Len Mead 

PS If you ever change your mind..." 

"Hope springs eternal," Sam grinned. 

Sam and I had our civil partnership ceremony at a Register Office and then a friendly vicar blessed our union in the grounds of his church. As well as family, we both had special friends with us, mine being my boss and his lovely wife Helen, Fran and Dot and Jacob with his partner Tony. My sister Hilary, by now married herself, told me that I'd probably found a better partner than I would have done if I'd been straight. 

We wore identical slim white dresses with scarlet trimmings. Before we were called in to the Registrar, I took Sam to one side where no-one could hear us and told her: "I adore you, Sam, and I'll never let you down again." 

I had to fight back the tears when she took my face in her hands and said: "You've never let me down, beautiful brown eyes." 

After the ceremony, after the Registrar had pronounced us legal partners, we embraced and kissed and I whispered in her ear: "I love you so much that I'll sleep in the wet patch—for tonight at least." Everybody wondered why we fell about laughing but they were happy for us. At the reception afterwards, Sophie and William, Sam's younger brother, gave lovely speeches as our best men (or should that be best persons?). Our respective fathers more-or-less said the same thing in different words, that they were so proud of their beautiful daughters and pleased to welcome a beautiful new daughter into the family. 

Recently, the government passed a new law to legalise gay marriages so soon we'll be doing it properly—we will be wife and wife at last. We might even try to persuade Sophie and Beth to make it a double wedding. What the hell, we might as well ask Jacob and Tony to make it a triple. 

Sam and I live out of town now and are in business for ourselves, working mainly from home. We do advertising and PR work for small local businesses that couldn't hope to meet the big companies' fees. Several years ago, Alan LeStrange sold out his business, making himself even richer. He reckoned that we were good enough to go it alone and put up the money so that we could get started. He's very much the hands-off partner but is always available when we need advice. He and his Helen treat us as the daughters they never had. 

And we have a family. Amanda, seven years old, was born to Sam and Jonathan, five, was my contribution. Jacob and Tony provided the sperm and act as much loved uncles. The children are doted on by both our families and we have our work cut out to ensure that they are not spoiled. Anyway, when we get married properly we have a ready-made bridesmaid and page-boy set. 

So, we're very happy. It's not always been plain sailing and we're not perfect—we have our spats and arguments like any couple but we never allow the sun to go down on them. And anyway, we're agreed that the making up as the sun goes down is a lot of fun. And let me just add that we're in it for the long haul—I intend to grow old with Sam and I can't think of anything better. 

At our civil partnership ceremony we exchanged identical wedding rings. Both are wide bands with our names and a special quotation engraved on the inside in exquisite tiny lettering. 

Mine reads: 'Samantha loves Emma...' and Sam's reads: 'Emma loves Samantha...' And that special quotation? '...until the Twelfth of Never'. 

The End