At first I was totally involved in the new world I had joined. We sang with all the country’s leading orchestras and under conductors of international renown. And as we travelled to new concert halls and recording studios, my friendship with Evelyn developed.
We had much in common. We were both married with husbands successful enough to allow us to pursue our hobby. Neither of us had children, Evelyn by choice, I because I couldn’t. We both loved travel, our sense of humour was similar. In breaks between rehearsal and performance, we happily went shopping or sight-seeing together. We became good companions.
Evelyn was a petite brunette with an oval face, blue eyes, high cheek bones and a mouth I learned to call passionate. She was five years older than me at forty-one (though she liked to tell people she was thirty-nine). We had known each other for more than a year before our relationship changed in a manner that took me completely by surprise.
My car was in for a major service and the garage had had to wait for a replacement part. Trevor, my husband, needed his car for a business appointment, so Evelyn gave me a lift to rehearsal. On the way back we were gossiping about the inevitable affairs that occasionally blossomed and flourished or fell away in a choir thrown together as often as the Chorus was.
As we pulled up outside our house, Evelyn said, “We’ve been talking about Tom and Felicity, but an affair doesn’t have to be between a man and a woman, does it?”
Even as I sensed a certain huskiness in her voice, I felt her hand rest lightly on my thigh. I turned towards her and we hesitated. There was an opportunity to draw back. Instead, unable to resist an instinct I couldn’t identify, I leaned in to meet her embrace. Our mouths met. Her tongue slid between my lips and her hands groped for my breasts.
That was when I came to my senses and pushed her away, but gently, uncertain of myself. Sitting in the car in the darkness, we looked at each other.
Eventually, Evelyn spoke. “Jenny, dear, please don’t be shocked. We wouldn’t be the first to have felt that need.”
“Need?” I asked, playing for time to understand my emotions. “Need for what?”
“For the kind of understanding two women can have. A different kind of understanding. Do you know what I mean?”
I thought I did but where was this leading? “Yes,” I said,” “I suppose I do.”
She put her hand on my arm and squeezed gently. “You have to go in. Trevor will wonder what we are up to. Keep this to yourself for now, but think about it. I shall be at home tomorrow afternoon. If I don’t hear from you, I will understand and we will just forget what has happened. On the other hand, I would be thrilled if you would call by for an hour so.” With that, she leaned across, kissed my cheek and opened the passenger door. “Goodnight, sleep well and don’t let it worry you.”
But of course I could think of little else – to the point that Trevor asked if something was worrying me. “Yes,” I said, making a decision that I hoped might solve my dilemma. “I was thinking I need two things. A stiff drink and a stiff something else.”
Trevor was happy to oblige. But when I slept, I dreamt of what nearly was, and might yet be.
*********************************
The next day, after Trevor had left for his office I went upstairs, stepped out of my skirt, lay on the bed and let my hand slide beneath the waistband of my knickers. I had mastered masturbation long before I left school. A quick five minutes in a toilet cubicle always relaxed me before an exam. At night in bed, thinking about a boy friend or fantasising about a teacher, I learned to sustain that delicious point where I was on the edge without toppling over until at last the demand is so great it cannot be resisted. This morning I came fairly quickly but it was more mechanical than emotional. When I went to the drawer for clean knickers, I knew nothing had changed.
I fidgetted away the rest of the morning, looking at the clock avery fifteen minutes. Rationally, I knew I should call Evelyn and politely refuse. In fact, I knew I would go. At two o’clock I could hardly wait to collect my car from the garage and drive to her house.
Evelyn opened the door, took me by the hand and led me inside. “We won’t talk,” she said. “You are here and that says everything. We may need to talk later. But for now, come upstairs.”
It was only then that I realised she was wearing only a housecoat rather than a dress. She led me into a bedroom and immediately turned and held me in a tight embrace. Her hands were cupping my bottom, pulling me on to her. Our mouths locked and I knew why I was there. My tongue found its way into her mouth as her hands began to feel for the hem of my skirt. As she worked it up round my thighs, her soft fingers were urgently caressing my buttocks. I must already have been very wet.
The kiss lasted until we pulled apart to breathe. Evelyn looked into my eyes as she stepped back, opened the housecoat and shrugged it to the floor. She wore lime green undies with matching stockings and suspender belt. Her small breasts needed little support, but the insubstantial material allowed stiff nipples to protrude.
“I know we are supposed to dress like this for our men but these things make me feel sexy. You too?”
I nodded but somewhat hesitantly. I had given a lot of thought about what to wear, but in the end played safe with conventional white bra and knickers with hold-ups. In less time than it takes to write, Evelyn had everything on view, my skirt and blouse in a heap on the floor beside her housecoat.
“The mirror,” Evelyn said. “It’s good to see ourselves.” She steered me towards a full-length wardrobe mirror, came behind me and reached round to cup my breasts. In the mirror I saw her bend her head to lick the back of my neck before stopping her fondling just long enough to unclasp my bra. Another garment for the floor.
“If I do this, is it good for you?” she asked. My erect nipples under her clever fingers gave their own answer. She went on, “There is much more we can do. If you want?”
I was long past the point where I could have stopped. “Yes,” I said. “I want it all. I want you to teach me.”
She led me to the bed, set me on my back, opened my legs and knelt between them. Her fingers found their way into me with ease. Then her mouth joined in. Her tongue began to lick my clitoris. It was so direct, so instantly in charge, I found myself in danger of losing what little control remained.
“No, don’t.” I said, “I don’t want it over yet.”
Evelyn raised her head. “Jenny, dear. We are just beginning. But we both need this right now. It relaxes the system. Afterwards we can explore and discover. Trust me.” With that she put her head down again, used her hands to lift my bottom to meet her. It was intuitive and it was irresistible. Fingers and tongue did all that was necessary and a huge orgasm flooded my whole body.
Flopped back on the bed still breathing heavily, I was aware of Evelyn now lying beside me. One hand was twirling a nipple, the other was moving at speed in her groin. It seemed only seconds before she came.
We lay there in silence. I somehow understood that this was just a pause to prepare us for the real rewards to follow. Eventually, Evelyn said, “Believe me, if we hadn’t done that then it would have made us rush everything else.”
“Everything else?”
“Do you know “The Orchard of Infinite Delights?”
I confessed I had never heard of it.
“It’s an Indian erotic fable. You have to see the orchard as an allegory of sex. Each tree in the orchard – and there are many – bears a different fruit. On the fringes they may be crisp and sharp, stimulating the taste buds. As you move on, succeeding trees offer other flavours, fleshy, juicy and ripe to be devoured. Finally, in the middle of the orchard stands the tallest tree, and on its highest bough hangs the most coveted fruit. It is out of reach. Unless two people act together. They must help lift each other until they attain the ultimate desire.”
Evelyn laid a hand on my breast and looked into my eyes. “Is that where we are going?” I asked.
“It has to be the two of us together,” she said.
“I know.” Forbidden fruit perhaps, but I wanted it. Wanted it very badly. I turned on to my side and reached for her breasts. My tongue traced circles round her nipples. As they hardened, her murmurs of encouragement were all I needed. After a while she said, so softly I almost didn’t hear, “Harder, Jenny. Harder with your fingers. I like that.”
“Tell me if it is too much,” I said, complying carefully at first, then more firmly. It seemed to be doing what Evelyn wanted because her hand was moving between her legs at the same time. But she was true to her word about taking things slowly. After a few minutes she said, “Rest now. You did it well. Did it do anything for you?”
At the time I hadn’t thought so, but asked the question, I had to admit to a little surge of excitement. I wasn’t ready for it to be done to me – at least, not then – but that was no matter. Evelyn had plenty of other ideas.
“Lie on your back,” she said, “And relax. Leave this to me for a while.”
She carefully positioned herself above me, and then lowered her body until our breasts were just touching, nipples against nipples. Supporting herself on her arms, she could look in my face and see my response. “Nice?” she asked. “Something Trevor can’t do for you, isn’t it?”
The answer was yes to both.
Gradually she allowed herself to press right down on me so that our breasts moved against each other as she changed her weight from side to side. Soon I became aware of pressure lower down, groin against groin. I was tingling, willing her to show me where this was leading.
I didn’t have to wait too long. “Try this,” she said, lifting off me for a moment. “When I get there, open your legs for me.”
Her tongue started between my breasts and began slowly, so tantalisingly slowly, to lick the length of my body, lingering to tease my tummy button, pausing it seemed for ever as her mouth reached the beginning of my mound. And all the time she was murmuring, telling me how gorgeous and sexy I was. I was torn between wanting to relish the anticipation and moving on to the next level of arousal.
When the moment came I was hardly aware of it, so subtle was the intrusion of a tentative tongue tip between my labia. Evelyn’s hands were cupping my bottom. Briefly I was aware of a finger testing for resistance but then it moved away. I was surprised to find that I was somehow disappointed. But there was no time to reflect, Evelyn was pulling me on to her, her tongue now probing deep into my vagina, then withdrawing slightly to lick the hardness of my clitoris. This was unlike any sexual experience I had ever known and I was ready to accept a huge orgasm.
It didn’t happen, or at least not yet. Evelyn’s uncanny intuition told her the crisis was near and she rolled away from me on to her back. “Your turn,” she said. “Take as much time as you like.”
It wasn’t difficult. Remembering how the desire had flushed through my body under her knowing stimulation, I tried to replicate every touch, every lick. When I had sucked her nipples, I remembered to press them between my fingers, noting the way she closed her eyes and concentrated on the gentle pain she seemed to enjoy.
In time, I found that I could position her legs so that her knees were across my shoulders. This opened her to my eyes and mouth. There was no pubic hair. Her lips were shiny with her own secretion. I tasted it with my tongue and she groaned, pushing up to meet me. We worked together like that for a long time, thanks to little prompts from Evelyn. “Easy now … I’ll tell you when … yes, now go again …. like that is good.”
When it reached the point of being so good it could not be controlled, she eased me clear. “Would you kneel for me?” she said. “Let me show you from behind.”
It was a position that Trevor and I enjoyed regularly but I was puzzled to foresee what there could be for Evelyn. I soon discovered. With both hands, Evelyn held my buttocks apart and went to work with her tongue. At first she lapped in large circles, but I was aware that these were becoming narrower and narrower. The she stopped. Her hands were still holding me open. Until I felt a firm tongue tip make contact with my sphincter. The effect was like an electric charge. She held the contact, then pressed. I couldn’t stop myself from crying out, though the words were incoherent.
“This would be a good way to come, darling,” Evelyn said. “Can you do it for me?”
I wanted to. She was giving me such exquisite pleasure, I wanted to do everything she asked. Supporting myself on one hand, I reached back with the other and found my clitoris. Evelyn’s tongue was working insidiously from behind, matching the rhythm of my stroking at the front. It didn’t take long. The orgasm was huge, overpowering. I collapsed on to my stomach, my hand clasping my groin to prolong the sensation.
After a while I was aware of Evelyn’s voice, softly beside my ear. “Thank you for being so trusting. I wanted it to be special for you.”
“Special doesn’t do it justice,” I said. “But what about you? Do you want me to … do that. With my tongue.”
“Yes, but not this time. You have come a long way. I am already on such a high I don’t really need it, anyway, much as I would like you to do it. Just lick me. Once you feel me responding, don’t stop. It will be good for both of us, I promise you.”
So that was how our first time together ended. I felt drained and at the same time exhilerated. I saw the point of the Orchard of Infinite Delight and I knew I would have to explore it again. When I said as much while we were recovering over a cup of tea, Evelyn said she hoped there would be many more opportunities.
But that was where a problem arose. After our third meeting, she sensed that I was not entirely happy. Eventually, I had to admit that I was increasingly uncomfortable to be enjoying this new experience as it were behind Trevor’s back.
“I thought that might happen,” Evelyn said. “But I have a suggestion. I hope it won’t shock you.”
(To be continued)
Via: https://www.lushstories.com/stories/lesbian/the-orchard-of-infinite-delight