Georgia's English Rose (9 page)

When he was gone Georgia turned and hugged
me against her, held my face and kissed me.

“You okay he knows about us, Lil?”

I nodded.

“Good. Then let’s go up to bed before my
pussy melts completely. I need you to give me some urgent
attention, honey.”

I nodded and bit my lip. “Yes please,
Georgia.”

We didn’t bother brushing our teeth or
washing or making a pretense at putting our nightclothes on. I
closed the door and flicked the inside lock across, reached back
and slid down the zipper on my dress, unclipped my bra but made no
move to undress further. Georgia opened the curtain so moonlight
filled the room. She came to me and pulled my dress over my
shoulders where it hung loose. My bra was somewhere around my waist
and she smiled and let it drop onto the floor, then went on her
knees and drew my panties down until they pooled around my ankles
and I stepped from them. She stayed on her knees once I was naked,
leaned in and kissed my hip, her lips brushing against me. Then she
moved and kissed my belly, kissed my patch of pubic hair before
standing.

She waited while I removed her clothes and
then we lay on top of the bed. My hands found her breasts and
played with them. My lips found her nipples and tugged on them.
Georgia fought back, pushing me away so she could kiss my breasts,
kiss my mouth.

“I was planning to make you come by the
river,” she said.

“I was hoping you were.” I laughed softly.
“I wanted to make you come too.” How I had changed in so short a
time! The words we used between us, the actions we performed, all
seemed so natural and comfortable now. We had no secrets, no part
of our bodies so private they could not be shared.

“I’ve been horny for so long I thought I
might go mad,” she said, rolling onto her back. “You wanna do me,
Lil?” She stared into my eyes.

“More than anything in the world,” I
said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I answered, but the word didn’t
sound anything like the same coming from my lips instead of
Georgia’s.

“Like you nearly did by the river?” she
said, and realization washed through me she knew completely what I
had wanted to do, wanted me to. Relief filled me.

“You really want me to do that,
Georgia?”

“More than anything in the world,” she said,
handing my own words back.

I kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck. I
pushed my fingers through her thick hair and sat astride her while
her hands found my pussy and opened me to her fingers. Then I
pulled away, not ready to come yet and I kissed her wonderful
breasts, licked their undersides where they met her belly, caught
her nipples in my teeth and pulled on them.

I kissed down her belly, slowly, teasing out
the time and she held my hair and pulled my head to one side and I
kissed her hip, and when she let me loose moved on down. I lay
between her legs, stroking the underside of her knee, and kissed
her navel and moved on down. I touched the hard pencil tip of her
clitoris with my thumb and she drew a sharp breath. I moved down
and kissed the line where her bush met her belly.

“I love you more than life, Lil,” she said
clearly, and hot emotion welled inside me.

I licked her soft bush and moved down. My
tongue flickered and touched her clitoris and she gasped. I closed
my lips and sucked the nub inside, rolled my tongue and Georgia
lifted her legs until her thighs pressed against my cheeks. I slid
my hand along her leg and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, but
I was only teasing and we both knew it.

I moved down and kissed the inside of her
thigh and my nose brushed the slit between her full labia and I
breathed in deeply, drawing the wonderful aroma of her sex into my
lungs. I kissed the inside of her other thigh, but we both knew
what we wanted next and neither of us were willing to wait a moment
longer.

Georgia opened her legs wide and I settled
between them, my mouth an inch from her slit. I poked out my tongue
and moved forward and touched her where I had wanted to touch her
all day. I ran my tongue along the slit of her pussy and she cried
out, pushing her fist against her mouth to hold back the cry.

I put my lips against her labia and sucked
on them.

I opened her slit with my tongue and probed
inside, tasting for the first time in my young life the rich,
wonderful taste of another woman.

Georgia rocked against me, and I wondered
how it felt to have my tongue explore inside her pussy, wondered if
I might find out for myself soon. I slid my hand between my own
legs and slipped my fingers inside to discover I was wetter than I
had ever been.

“Don’t do yourself yet,” Georgia said, her
voice husky but clear. “That’s my job when you’ve finished with me.
I want to do this to you, Lil. I want to do this so much.”

I left my fingers inside myself but stopped
moving them.

I sucked on Georgia’s fat clitoris again and
she groaned. I opened her pussy lips with my tongue and probed far
inside and she yelped. I began to discover what worked and did more
of that, licking between her labia, my hand reaching to her
clitoris and rubbing and pulling. I kissed her pussy like I kissed
her mouth and sweet nectar flowed from her onto my tongue, and all
I could taste, all I wanted to taste, was Georgia.

She pumped steadily against my lips, her
body undulating as I pleasured her and she took her pleasure
against my mouth, her breath coming faster. I took my fingers from
my own pussy and reached for her breasts, smearing slippery juice
across her nipples.

“Oh Lil, that’s gonna do it honey,” she
gasped. She shook hard beneath me. I fought to keep my tongue
inside her, fought to keep my lips pressed to her pussy as she
bucked and trembled. Georgia cried out loudly but neither of us
cared as she peaked under my lips. Something warm and wet splashed
into my mouth and I realized it was Georgia and for a moment I
thought she had wet herself but then discovered the taste was
sweet. It was something else. She had squirted something into my
mouth, and I kissed where she had splashed, licked my tongue inside
her, pulled on her clitoris and she jerked again, clutching the
back of my head and pushing me hard against her.

When she finally let go I wriggled along her
body, kissing all the way until I reached her mouth then kissing
her there.

“Mm, is that what I taste like?” she asked,
licking her tongue across my lips.

“I suppose it must be,” I said.

“Not bad,” she said. “But I bet you taste
even better.”

“Do you think so?”

“I’m gonna find out,” she said, pushing me
away and rolling me onto my back.

Instead of lying between my legs she moved
down head first, playing with my breasts, teasing my belly, but she
took less time reaching her target than I had and I lay back, my
hands on the round cheeks of her backside as her tongue found the
spot between my legs and opened me up.

“Is this how it feels for you, Georgia?” I
asked.

She lifted her head a little, “How’s it
feel, honey?”

“Unbelievable. More than anything else
ever.”

“Yup, that’s how it feels,” she said, and
went back to demonstrating.

Her tongue flickered and teased, and when
she sucked my clitoris between her lips I nearly died of ecstasy.
She pushed her fingers inside me and used her tongue as well, her
spit wetting me even more than I already was and I slid my hands
off the round cheeks of her backside and pushed three fingers deep
inside her slit, working them in and out fast and she gasped and
lifted her head.

“You’re gonna tip me over again if you keep
doing that, Lil.”

“Good,” I said. I grabbed her buttocks again
and pulled her over, lifted her leg and sat her against my mouth,
wanting more of her, always more.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” she said. “Don’t you dare
stop.”

Her tongue returned to me, my tongue slipped
inside her, and it felt as if I was doing Georgia, as if I was
doing myself, everything confused and wonderful, her big titties
pressed against my belly, her round backside under my hands, my
tongue probing inside her, Georgia’s tongue deep inside me and I
knew I was going over hard as the fire inside me bloomed and spread
to an inferno.

I cried out, my voice muffled in Georgia’s
pussy and she jerked and I knew we were peaking together, Georgia
coming so fast again and I bucked against her, wanting her to do
anything she wanted, everything she wanted, wanting to invade her
anywhere I could and when my climax arrived I knew I was doing what
Georgia had as I squirted against her mouth, the rush erupting from
my core to my pussy and the world swam and faded away and I
returned only slowly, to the taste of Georgia on my lips and
tongue.

The next afternoon we
returned to the War, sleeping all the way back on the train, our
bodies aching deliciously from the love we made all night long. I
experienced a moment’s guilt when Mummy brought us tea and biscuits
at eight. By then we had dressed in our nightclothes again, but the
scent of sex lay thick in the room and I knew Mummy had to smell
us, had to know what the aroma meant. She placed the tray on the
box at the foot of the bed and stood a moment smiling at us,
indulgent and a little wistful.

Three weeks later I received a letter from
Michael. He was still alive, he told me, and I read his words to
Georgia in our tiny room. There were things he couldn’t say, and
some lines had been blacked out, but I got the message he was
getting the hang of this flying and a few Nazis had found out the
hard way. Georgia and I grinned at each other, sitting side by side
on her bed, the one we slept in most nights until we had satisfied
each other.

The months turned into years. The fighting
grew worse, the mood darker.

As the fighting progressed priorities
changed and just before Christmas 1942 Georgia and I received a
transfer to Bletchley Park, where teams of mathematicians and
scientists broke German and Japanese codes. A group of genius
boffins invented the world’s first computer there—not that we
called it a computer then, not that many people even knew of its
existence. We were both surprised to be assigned the same posting.
Things weren’t meant to happen that way, but I believe someone knew
exactly what we were, someone who sympathized. We came across women
now and again, recognizing kindred spirits, some secret passing
unspoken among our kind.

At Bletchley we lived offsite, sharing a
small room in a house where other scientists lodged. Our room was
too small for two single beds so we were told we had to share a
small double. Life was far more innocent back then, and we both
tried to look suitably disappointed.

We saw Michael one more time during the war
when we all managed to get a weekend pass at the same time. He
looked older, with more lines on his face, something hard in his
eyes. He was no longer my carefree big brother but I loved him just
the same.

Every month felt like hell until that day in
May 1945 when the flags came out and Georgia and I sat back home
with my parents and Michael. A scar ran down out of the flop of
hair above his left eye, a result, he told us, of getting a little
too close to a Stuka one day, laughing the encounter off. He looked
even older now, but also more handsome, Georgia said. He was my big
brother so I wasn’t much of a judge.

Georgia and I were released early from
service. With the fighting over men wanted their jobs back and many
of the women who had done their work were sent home. Georgia wanted
to return home too, to take up her place at college now she had the
chance. I considered taking my deferred place at Cambridge but knew
I couldn’t bring myself to part from her.

In August of that year we traveled by ship
back to America, which became our home.

Georgia went to CalTech. I applied too and a
year later joined her. We studied hard. Georgia landed a job in
electronics, and after graduating I followed her. In 1957 I was
offered a teaching job back at CalTech, and three years later given
tenure. Math and electronics were the new thing, and Georgia and I
the female gurus of the subject.

We bought a small house on the beach north
of Santa Monica, scaring ourselves silly over how much we paid in
1958, and now we laugh about how little that was, laugh even harder
over how much the place is worth now.

Michael stayed in the RAF training other
pilots. When he left in the late fifties he joined what eventually
became British Airways. Now and again his schedule brings him to
the West Coast and he always comes to stay with us. Georgia teases
him mercilessly, and even though he is married with two beautiful
children he teases her back.

We were a little old for the sixties but
still enjoyed the decade. Later on I burned my bra, but Georgia
said that although she was completely in agreement with the
sentiment, the world would be far too dangerous a place if she let
her boobies swing free, so if no-one minded she was going to keep
hers on.

We experimented a little with both drugs and
lovers. Even though it was frowned on, many girls passing through
college came out west confused about who and what they were.
Georgia and I remained constantly faithful to each other, but every
now and again a third, even a fourth was invited in for a while
before moving on. For the last twenty years it has been only
Georgia and me. We are more than enough for each other.

We still make love, but not as often as we
once did. It used to be several times a day during the war, every
snatched opportunity we found, later every spare moment in college.
Now we have slowed to once or twice a week. But we never stop
kissing. Ever. Every chance we get.

Georgia came in and found me at the computer
writing this story and asked what I was doing. When I told her she
wanted to read it so I printed a copy and handed her the pages. She
curled up on our sofa overlooking the ocean and read it through
without a break.  The sunlight came bright through our
windows, filled with the reflection of the ocean, and I noticed how
Georgia’s hair is no longer the jet black it used to be, and that
we both have lines on our faces now.  But it doesn’t matter at
all. Character, Georgia calls it. Proof of our love, I
say.