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As always, thanks to Kenji for his editing and support.
Chapter 11
My next week was hectic. MomC corralled MumE to go with her to Cambridge for a few days. She was researching the abstract artist, Ben Nicholson, for an exhibit she wanted to put on at the V To love is to be vulnerable, and that’s exactly what I am with you. We only regret the chances we haven’t taken, which is why I never want to lose you. I love you just the way you are, Mo chridhe, mo ghràdh. Happy birthday. Maisie. xxx’
Maisie’s hands were on my shoulders as I read her words. When I had finished reading, she wrapped her arms around me, my head falling to her shoulder, and she so tenderly kissed my head. I turned around, looked at this beautiful woman, and kissed her. I could feel the tears coming, so she held me securely in her arms.
“I…I love you so much, Maisie. Thank…thank you…for everything,” I whispered.
“Agus tha gaol agam ort, Chloe,” she murmured. “That means, ‘And I love you,'” and smiled. “Happy birthday.”
She pulled me to her, and I smelled her scented neck, felt her breasts tight against me, and her fingers in my hair. I ran my hands through her thick, red hair, holding her lips to mine.
As we walked from room to room, I held the card in my hand. There was a huge walk-in shower in one bathroom and a curved roll-top in the other. We flopped on the bed and smiled at each other. [Yeah, this’ll do, I thought.] I turned on my side, facing Maisie, and whispered, “You’re too kind, Maisie. This is…gorgeous!”I squealed.
“Anything to see you smile, mo ghràdh. That’s enough for me,” she sighed, and we embraced. My body shivered whenever I heard her light brogue call me, ‘Her love.'”
After a bit of languid necking, we brought our cases in, and I pulled out my iPad and did a quick video of the place for everyone back in Richmond. When I returned to the bedroom, Maisie casually dropped her flimsy nightwear on the bed with a coquettish, “Oops,” and deliberately moved it to her pillow. She gave me a sultry smirk and continued to fill her drawer with her clothes. I tried to ignore her, but she knew she had baited me. I showed her what I had filmed, both of us wishing everyone a great day, and I sent it.
“Walk?” she asked, and I grabbed her hand. We headed towards the pier, which was the most prominent site. There was a brisk sea breeze, so we wrapped up in our light coats and scarves. I took too many photos, but Maisie put up with this little quirk. She had gotten used to it over the last two years, so she wasn’t too surprised. It felt almost liberating to be in the open, holding hands and kissing Maisie. We headed inland to the more eclectic part of the city. The streets were lined with quirky, independent shops ’til we ended up in The Lanes, a series of narrow passageways and alleys where there were colourful, 17th-century cottages that had been turned into shops, boutiques and cafés. It reminded us of certain parts of London, but it had an ambience of its own.
We ambled about, ducking into antique shops, jewellery stores, and many boho clothes marts. Mum would love it here. I saw Maisie make notes on her phone when I pointed to a particular bangle or bracelet I liked. [She had better not, I thought!] Every so often, I would catch her face in just the right light and shoot off several photos, embarrassing her, but I didn’t care. Goodness knows how many coffees we had, as all the cafés looked so inviting. There was a definite istanbul travesti new-age feel to this place, all the shops having their own character and staff. Brighton seemed to be a very, well, liberal place to live and work. I was excited about going out tonight! We asked a few waitresses where we should go for drinks and dancing, with several inviting us to join them. We eagerly took the names of a few clubs, saying we may meet them later.
The afternoon wore on, and Maisie said, “I’m scunnered. Can we head back for a bit?” I smiled at her use of slang, but picked up what she meant.
We were both beginning to tire, knowing we probably had a late night ahead of us, so we walked back to our flat. I made us some tea, and we sat on the balcony; the tide coming in, but there were still crowds of people. The balcony was a great vantage point to people watch, and Maisie and I would wave to whoever was interested enough to wave to us. We were both tired, so we thought we’d have a quick nap to keep us going. We left the balcony and pulled our sexless pyjamas from the drawers. Maisie’s, of course, were tartan, mine, less so. We managed to behave ourselves and quickly lay on the bed, the sea breeze wafting through the room, the curtains sailing with the wind. We fell asleep in each other’s arms.
I woke an hour or two later and turned to Maisie. I gently moved her hair from her hidden eyes and stared at her. God, she was bonny, as she would say. My small gesture made her roll onto her back, and I watched as her breasts rose and fell, her breathing still calm and even. My head said one thing, my hands the other, as they slid between her loose pyjamas and her flesh. I held my breath and looked at her to ensure she wasn’t waking. My hand slid further along, my fingers fluttering over her mons and sparse red pussy hair. I laid my middle finger on her split labia, the other two on either side. I held my breath, as I gently pressed the finger onto her. Delicately, I brushed my fingertip between her lips, my pussy moistening, as hers responded to my shy touch.
As her dewiness increased, my finger slipped further up, just trembling over her clit. Maisie’s eyes were still closed, but I saw her upper lip quiver, as her hips moved hesitantly. With every furtive swipe, my finger became bolder, sliding deeper along her labia. Maisie shook her head, and a small moan slipped between her lips.
“Uhhhhh….mmmmm,” she sighed, as I made little circles around her clit. She opened her eyes, staring at me now.
“Wha–what are…ohhhh, God…what…are…you…” she moaned, and tried to pull my hand from her pyjamas.
“Shhh, darling. Just…just lie there and…take it,” I whispered. “Let me, mon amour.”
“Chloe…no…we said…ohhhhh, fuck…God…we…” she groaned, but her body had already betrayed her.
“It’s only fingers, darling. That’s…okay? Isn’t it?” I murmured, teasing and giving her a reason to leave my fingers sliding along her pussy.
She turned to me, her eyes rabid and glazed, and I kissed her. Her supple hip raised off the bed at our first touch, my finger entering her wet sheath.
“We…we shouldn’t, Chloe…just…but we…” her unmuted denials groaned.
“Let me love you, Maisie. I…I won’t go further…trust me,” I whispered seductively, as another finger slid into her wet valley.
“Ohhhh…my… mo ghràdh…my love…yessss,” she moaned, and gave herself to me.
Our kisses were heated istanbul travestileri now, my motions taking her and my fingertip pressing her now-hard clit. Maisie’s hands were in my hair, pulling and grasping me, as she spread her legs, her pelvis meeting every deep thrust of my hand. Her breaths came sharp and short into my mouth, as if she was breathing life into me. I could feel her muscles grasp and grab my slick fingers. I pulled away from her mouth and whispered softly in her ear, “Cum for me…mo chridhe,” and she did so beautifully. When I called her ‘my heart’, her eyes looked at mine, and she came, her body jerking, hips thrusting, and her pussy gushing her sweet scent. I rubbed her little, nubby clit, and watched her salacious ‘cum face’, as I pushed my love over the edge. Her hand went to mine, pushing me deeper inside her. Maisie’s long, “Fuck…fuck…fuck!” filled the room. I kept my slow, steady pace, not thrusting like I knew she needed. I wanted her climax to last, to build her up and waste her.
I could feel her hips slacken, her gyrations slowing down, so I gently pulled my fingers from her sopping pussy. Maisie’s eyes were still closed, her breath ragged, and her breasts heaving under her loose cotton top.
“O, mo ghràidh. Tha gaol agam ort,” she sighed, pulled my fingers from my mouth, and opened hers, taking them and whatever juices were left.
I looked at her quizzically, wondering what she had said.
She knew and whispered, “Oh, my darling. I love you,” she smiled. “I do,” she chuckled, and kissed me.
Maisie rolled on her side, her arm around me, as she pulled me close.
“That was…beautiful. Thank you, darling,” she smiled, her face still red and moist. “It’s…it’s your birthday, though, so…”
“Shhh. This isn’t a contest, mon amour. Je t’aime,” I whispered, knowing she knew that much French by now.
I laid my head on her still heaving chest, enveloped in her arms and happy.
We lay there in the late afternoon sun, the breeze turning chilly now, so I rolled from the comfy bed and closed the balcony door, but not before looking out to sea. This was perfect. We gradually came to and began getting ready for our evening. We decided a shared shower would be safe, so I took her hand and headed in. The bathroom had a full complement of potions and lotions for us, along with the requisite cloths and sponges. We touched, washed, kissed, and spoiled each other for the next forty-five minutes. I allowed her to kiss my butt, but not my pussy, much to our consternation. We had to set boundaries here, or all of our talks would be for nought. We decided that touching and helping each other to orgasm was acceptable under our vague rules. Protocol reset, I relished her hands on my cheeks and her tongue sliding and kissing it. I reluctantly pushed away her stray hands by moving my ass in her face. This was pretty far from erotic, as we spent most of our time giggling, and laughing, just enjoying this new-found closeness. We knew how far we could push and tease each other, so we basked in that. Again, I understood why my parents spent so much time in the shower! It was a glorious way to escape the day, problems, and little niggles, and reconnect under a misty rain.
Maisie asked, jokingly, if we should pick up a girl tonight and take our frustrations out on her since we couldn’t and wouldn’t touch each other more than we had already done. I smirked at her brazen idea and spanked her ass. travesti istanbul It was an idea, though.
We dried and pampered each other, drying each’s hair, choosing each other’s clothes and makeup for the evening, and then, dressing one another. I adored being on my knees in front of Maisie, encouraging her to lift each foot in kind while I slid her chosen panties up her long legs. Embarrassingly, I think I drooled a bit when faced with her pussy. Oops! She obligingly lifted her arms when I slipped her half-cup bra through her arms, ‘adjusting’ her marvellous tits and fastening the clip in the back.
Maisie adoringly ‘helped’ me slip my thin bralette on, her face beaming as she took in the size and shape of my mounds. I was so tempted to pull her head onto my cunt when she slipped my lacy panties through my feet and pulled them up my lithe body, but I behaved. Damn!
Give or take an hour, we were ready to head out. After a final brush of the hair, a spritz of perfume, and a check on our lipstick, we headed out. Maisie had booked a table at a beautiful seafood restaurant without me knowing. The ambience was warm, welcoming and clearly seductive. Our reserved table had marvellous views of the sea and the throngs of people milling about. We ordered the shellfish platter, as I had a taste for lobster and a bottle of crisp Sancerre. We were in heaven!
It was a lovely two-and-a-half-hour meal, neither of us wanting to break the spell of the evening. We flirted outrageously, held hands, laughed, kissed, and toyed with each other. Maisie taught me a handful of Scottish endearments, and I repeated them in French to her, both smiling at the other’s mispronunciations. Rarely had I a better evening. We decided to forego dancing tonight, as we were both full, but we did a small bar-hop around the winding streets. As Brighton seemed to cater for the more liberal-minded, we felt no unease with our affections. I played with the hem of Maisie’s dress, as much as she fiddled with my partially unbuttoned blouse.
We walked hand in hand through the streets, peering into windows, enchanted by the atmosphere. We somehow ended up at the Royal Pavillion, an eighteenth-century Indo-Saracenic style building. We weren’t expecting this! Leisurely, we made our way back to the seafront and our flat. We stopped countless times, held each other and kissed. I would never tire of this, I thought.
We wrapped up and sat on the balcony, sipping yet another cold wine.
“Maisie,” I asked. “Do you really believe we can go a whole year?”
She spluttered her wine and giggled at me. I ran to the kitchen and brought her a hand towel so she could wipe her dress down. Collecting herself, she took another sip and calmly said, “Not a chance, Chloe. We’ll try, aye…for all the right reasons, but no, there’s not a chance we’ll last a year,” she giggled.
“Good…” is the only word I could come up with.
“We’ll be fine, Chloe. When it’s right, it’s right. Hell, lass…we only talked about this last week, and you’re fingering me already!” she laughed.
We watched the moon move slowly across the skyline ’til I noticed Maisie flagging, so we cleared up, locked the door and went to the bedroom. We cautiously helped each other strip and dress for bed, her flannel pyjamas taking nothing away from her sensuality. She ‘helped’ me into my shapeless nightwear, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.
“You’re still hot, Chloe,” she smiled, and led me to the bed. We faced each other, our fingers touching and following the curves of our faces.
“Thank you for a brill day, Maisie. God…I do love spending time with you,” I sighed.
“We’re where we’re supposed to be, Chloe,” she whispered.
We wrapped our arms around each other, kissed, and slept.
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