We, that is my lover Glenda and I, were staying with a friend, Tessa. Tessa had a marvellously remote cottage set in a wild, wooded landscape. Everything was natural. Her water came direct from a well. The wood she burned was cut from the local woods, even most of her electricity came from solar panels although, for the sake of avoiding dying of starvation she had a small generator too. Tessa was an author. She wrote complex murder stories, always solved by her invention, the chaotic Inspector Ruth Lender. It wasn’t unusual for her tales to include explicit sex, often of the Sapphic variety since, as Tessa always said, “That’s what I know best.”

Her partner of ten years had died, tragically young, of a disease she had caught whilst travelling. She, Leonie, had been a zoologist. She had been laid to rest in the woods around Tessa’s cottage and we would go and have a picnic with her whenever weather allowed. Sitting with a cloth spread on the ground, the smell of wet earth and leaf-mould, home-made bread, even home-made cheese sometimes and always her own pickles would be washed down with copious amounts of her wine. It was dreadful stuff but, strangely, improved the more you drank. We’d chat about, sometimes, after the third bottle, with Leonie who Tessa always called ‘Loony.’

Tessa was a wild child. Her hair was hectic and long, in shades of gold. Her body was long and lithe, and she wore long, vivid dresses made from artisan cloth. She was no hippy, she was merely utterly independent.

That evening, we’d had a wonderful meal. Venison, from a deer Tessa had shot herself, slowly casseroled with wine, rosemary, onions and redcurrants until it was as tender as you can imagine. We’d got a bit drunk, as always. We laughed and talked until midnight when Glenda and I went to bed. I lay beside Glenda, listening to her familiar sounds, the little snuffles as she tried to sleep, the way her breathing became more regular as she drifted off.

When I was sure she was fast asleep, I carefully pushed back the bed clothes, and, in my simple, sheer black nightdress, I padded quietly along the landing, down the slightly creaky staircase and into the sitting room. A fire still blazed in the hearth giving the only light to the room. I stopped at the doorway and looked at Tessa. She was sitting on a long window seat, naked. Her knees were drawn up to her chin and her arms were around her shins.

“I wondered if you’d come.”

“I wondered if you’d be here.”

“Come closer.”

I walked slowly across the room and stood in front of her. Wordless, she inspected me, her eyes lingering on my face, my breasts, my untidy pubic hair visible through the sheer silk. She did a gesture, so typical of her, with her head that shook her wild hair away from her face which shone, golden in the firelight. I watched as she released, then straightened her legs, swivelling on the red velvet seat cushion to face me directly. Her breasts were full, a little surprisingly so, given her svelte body. The ring in her left nipple was caught by the firelight and looked for all the world like a little jewel.

Her legs parted and she ran her long fingers up her thighs as if guiding me to her, showing me the way. Lifting my nightdress a little, I knelt on the threadbare rug that Leonie had made and with which Tessa would never part.

“It’s not too late to go back to Glenda.”

I didn’t answer her but moved so my face was close to her cunt. Inhaling her scent, earthy and warm, before I extended my tongue and stroked it over her cunt lips. Her pubic hair was pale, golden but copious except around her lips, as if she had shaved it away so her cunt was more obvious, somehow obscenely so. Her fingers ran lightly through my own, black hair as my tongue caressed her. Lifting her heels onto the seat meant I could access all of her, from her clitoris to her arsehole and that wonderfully sensitive skin between arse and cunt. There was no rush. I was slow, light of touch, savouring every crease, fold and bump.

Her lips flowered almost reluctantly. As she opened to me, I leant back to look, to record mentally the beauty of her sex, lit by the blaze in the hearth. I touched a finger to her and it made her shudder, her tits trembling slightly. I kissed her nipple but, gently placing a hand on my head she guided me back down, spreading her legs even wider. The taste of her was delightful, heady, erotic and I lost myself in it, in her. My tongue searched her, explored her, tasted her. Her clitoris was showing now so I circled her before flicking her with my tongue’s tip. Then I lowered my tongue, slowly down the ravine of her lips, pushing it a little into her, before going down further, to her arse and circling that too. Another gently pushing probe before I stroked her perineum. My reward was a shudder and a pat on the head.

Gradually I increased the pressure. I allowed a finger to curl slowly into her and that got me another pat on the head. I had no sense of time. All I was aware of was the way her breath sighed from her, the amount of slippery, silky moisture that oozed, increasingly from her. Her orgasm was a groan, a deep, resonant groan that seemed to go on and on. Only mid climax did she grip my hair and hold me to her. She held me there for an age as I licked her juices up and kissed her cunt as one would a lover’s mouth.

How exactly, I’m not sure, but I knew she wanted me to stand. She placed her feet, legs apart on the rug and, holding my hips, guided me to sit on her right thigh. She closed her legs. Placing my hands on her shoulders to steady myself, I rode her thigh, sliding on it, lightly at first then with increasing pressure. My own lips open like a butterfly, my clit rubbed on her firm skin, moist from my mouth and, now, my cunt. We exchanged no words then. Her eyes were locked on mine, her hands, palms down, on my breasts. My nipples were achingly hard. Her nails grazed the sensitive flesh of the curve of my lower breasts.

She read me like a book. As my orgasm began, she pressed her thigh upwards and pulled me to her mouth.

Before our lips met, she said, “It’ll be like you are cumming in my mouth.” As our mouths touched, she held me tightly and, she was right. It was exactly as if I had given her my orgasm, pushed it into her mouth with my tongue.

She held me. My chin on her shoulder, her arms around me, my cunt still moist on her thigh.

Together, hand in hand, we crept as silently as we could up the stairs. She kissed me at her bedroom door and then, as it closed behind her, I tiptoed along the landing, carefully opening the door of the room I shared with Glenda. Furtively, I checked her motionless body, lying on her side, her back to my side of the bed. Just as I had left her.

I slid carefully in our bed, pulled the bed clothes up to my chin and rolled, my back to her and slept.

I woke to find Glenda curled against me, her large breasts and firm nipples obvious through the silk of my nightdress.

As I stirred, I felt her breath on my ear.

“Does she know I sent you?” I shook my head. “Good girl.”

A hand lifted my nightdress and her strappy pressed against my cunt.

“When did you put it on?”

“When I came back from Tessa’s room, about twenty minutes ago.”

"Did she ask you if I knew you had gone to her?”

“She did. I said you didn’t.”

Then she fucked me as we chuckled at our wickedness and I said, “So, did I.”