Love Conquers All? Pt. 01

The good news would be telling Ma that I was in love with the Vicar and that it was reciprocated. That, one might have expected, would have been to have seen Ma thrilling to the news that her ugly duckling of a youngest daughter was not only going to be in a relationship, but one in which her partner would be someone of whom she approved. What was not to like? I should, surely, have been a happy little Pixie?

If only I was male, or if only the Vicar was; unfortunately, from the point of view of my mother, and of the Church, we were both women. I hadn't looked to fall in love with Karen. I'd known her since she came to our rural parish. She'd asked why I never attended Communion and why it was always the eight o'clock Book of Common Prayer service I attended? I'd explained over coffee at the vicarage that I was a lesbian and that my mother, who also happened to be a Lay Reader and Lady of the Manor, was firmly of the view that impenitent sinners should not receive Communion. It was, I explained, why I didn't come back home from London more often.

My mother had not reacted well to the news that her youngest daughter was a lesbian. I had "come out" only at the age of twenty-five, and then because I had no choice -- I was moving in with my old tutor from university. That she was in the same decade as my mother (she was 50 when my mother was 59) did not help matters; but then nothing would.

My father was fine with it, but as he spent most of his time abroad and had, as we both knew, a mistress in Hamburg, his approval did not count; if anything, it damned me further.

I explained to Karen that during that time Ma and I had been very estranged. I could not bear the coldness when I came home, and so had stopped; she took that badly. Then, when my lover and I had parted, and I came home, she had been kind and welcoming. But only gradually did it dawn on me that she thought this was the end of my "experimenting." She seemed confident I had been through my "phase" and would follow the path of my older sister who, after a period of, frankly, being a total slut, had married a nice banker and had settled down in a nice house on the South Coast.

How nice if I had been able to tell Ma what she wanted to hear. But I couldn't.

We hadn't meant to fall in love; does anyone?

Oddly the prompt had come when she was trying to help explain to Ma why I should be allowed Communion. I was not, after all, in a relationship any more (well my on-line wives did not count, or did they?). But Ma was implacable. We'd both confessed that we had trouble with a "strong" woman. I caught a look in her eye, an inflection in her voice and thought, is she?

Then the tsunami had hit.

My online wives had been marvelously supportive as I tried to get myself together after being deprived of the support system I had built up after my lover had dumped me. It was not, in truth, very supportive, but it was what I had, and without it there was a feeling of being bereft. They, and others, had rallied.

But I could not stay where I needed to be. There was a weakness there which pulled me down, and I could neither name it not, so it seemed, resist its effects. Though I knew that Mrs. Annie, my online wife, would not have objected to my having other online lovers, I could not resist when those lovers wanted me to keep it secret. It always got out, and Mrs. Annie forgave me. Then, it happened again, Again the promises to be good. Then, one final time. I was too weak, too confused. The only thing was to delete my online presence and retreat into isolation. It was not an attractive prospect. I dreaded it.

Instead, Mrs. Annie opened out her arms, and then others appeared, angels unaware. Those included Karen. I talked things through with her on the phone, we texted; she was there. She said to phone whenever. I sought professional help too, but the prompt was the love of Mrs. Annie. I realised I loved her, and at the worst, owed it to her to face up to what I had done and let her dump me. Expecting, indeed deserving that, I received instead, love. I could not let her down; so I got well.

Karen offered to come to London to meet me and spend a week-end together. She knew I was not coming back home, and suspected that it might not be good for me to be alone. I accepted the offer.

Unspoken was the question of sleeping arrangements. My flat has one big bedroom with a big bed, and there is a sofa bed in the sitting room for visitors. We had left open this, and the other big question.

I met her at the mainline station, and we went to supper at a Turkish restaurant nearby. We were flirting, there was no doubt about it. She looked at me a lot, and I reciprocated; in the end, we kissed. That first magical kiss said something important to me; she liked me. She had initiated it.

We went back to my place, hand in hand.

We had a night-cap; she seemed as happy with a scotch and water as I was. We snuggled on the sofa, and I cuddled up close to her. It felt good. And we went to my bed.

There was a bit of nervousness as we undressed. I am shy about my body. I know I don't look the way every other 31-year-old woman looks when naked, so I rushed into my pj set. She was every inch as beautiful as I had imagined. She looked so good in her black and white night-dress. We cuddled up in bed -- and we talked.

What was this? We came to the conclusion we were falling in love with each other. She had always liked me. Really? Well I had always liked her. She was not exclusively lesbian. Really? Well I was so inexperienced that I was a virgin with men and had had only two previous lovers, both women. Then came the awful revelation -- she'd been at Cambridge; well I could forgive her that if she could forgive me Oxford. We kissed. We cuddled up. I confessed I had no idea what to do. "Well do nothing," she replied. And so we just loved each other.

If we were lovers, I thought. What was the "if" for? We ARE lovers. "That's better," she said, and we kissed. So, I asked her, as we are lovers, what about the Church, her job and my mother? She asked my views, and I thought, and said, surely that was for her. She smiled and shook her head, telling me we were in this together and needed to come to a view we both owned. So we discussed things, practical things, emotional ones, things, all sorts of things. I gushed, as usual, she listened, as usual.

We would have London for our love, where we could be open and loving. Home, well there we'd need to be careful. As long as Karen gave no cause for "scandal" we should be fine. So better take care. No public snogging allowed.

I raised my online life? She seemed unfazed, telling me that Annie sounded wonderful as did Mel. She even asked if they would have a problem with her? Typically, I'd not even gone there; I didn't know there was a there, so to speak. Of course not, I told her, they love me and they will be happy about this. She asked what the problem was? When she put it like that, I couldn't see one. But she did know, didn't she that I, erm orgasmed with them. Yes, she said, and the problem would be? Put like that, I had no answer. Just make sure I cum first, she giggled. I was glad she giggled and liked bad puns; I did too. So did Annie and Mel.

At some point we slept.

I woke early, as ever, not quite believing she was sleeping next to me. Oh my, I thought. I have a girlfriend!

I e-mailed Annie, who I knew would have been thinking of me. She had been. She was happy, but warned me to be careful back home.

I took Karen some breakfast. We kissed. We showered. We did the local tourist trail. I loved historic palaces; so did she. We had a happy day together.

That night was the most memorable of my life. With my previous lover, there had been a pattern, almost a template. I was petite and young, it was almost a step-mother and daughter relationship; there was no doubt about who was in charge. Here it was different.

I came to her, we kissed as we sat on the sofa. As her wet tongue trailed along my lips, pressing softly before, realising what she wanted, I opened mine to allow her access, I felt the intimacy send electric shocks through me. Her scent overwhelmed me. When she stoked my hair, when she moved her hand down my neck, my body, my bottom, when she lifted my skirt, the electricity flowed; so did something else. I felt squishy between my thighs.

I responded in kind.

Where my breasts were tiny, hers were full and luscious. As I slipped the bra strap from her shoulders, revealing their fullness, the nipples engorged and red, I could not help sigh. My lips fastened onto her lift nipple. I circled the areola slowly, giving it little kitten licks before again, firmer this time, sucking it. I drew it into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. I repeated this with her right breast, marveling at the firmness and the scent. She was sighing. I licked and kissed her breasts, before moving down her tummy. Kneeling and parting her thighs, I licked upwards until I reached her knickers.

She lifted to allow me to pull them down. Her knickers stuck slightly at the gusset; she was gooey. As I parted her hairy lips with my fingers, she moaned. She was glistening. Starting at her perineum, my broad tongue lavished attention on her pussy, the tip dipping in until I came to her stiffened clit, which I massaged, pushing it up into that spongey flesh, then sucking it out. Her scent was overwhelming.

Sensing her readiness, I curled two fingers into her yielding pussy, feeling her wetness clench on them. Still licking and sucking, I began rhythmically finger-fucking her. When my thumb pressed on her sticky arsehole she could not hold back. I had read about squirting, but this was my first experience of it. .

As she shook, I felt a warmth between my thighs, I was aching. Her leg slid between my thighs, she pulled me up, kissing me, tasting herself on my lips,

"You do that so well my love, Now, your turn!"

She pulled me up further, then ordered me to sit on her face. Swiftly discarding my soaking knickers, I complied.

"You really have no tits, Pix, and I just love that!"

Her attentiveness to my bald pussy was all a girl could want. Her tongue penetrated me. As she slid it in I pushed down. I was lost. I ground down, wanting her so badly. She would lick me, then stop. Then her tongue again; then she would stop.

"Tell me what you want Pix?"

"Cummies, want, want, want cummies!"

The saying of it, the confessing it, oh my God! And I came, I came as I had never cum before. She pulled me to her, we lay together, kissing, loving, becoming ONE. That was the beginning of US. Making love again, we finally collapsed, exhausted into each other's arms. To wake, next to her, was to know love.

We spent a blissful day walking the Thames path, with lunch at a little pub, where we could flirt and kiss and feel free of censure; London is a wonderful place in which to be gay.

But all days end, and back at the mainline station that evening, my one regret was that this day had ended. We kissed.

"I love you Pixie, you are adorably cute!"

Blushing I told her I loved her too.

As the train pulled away I felt a tug at my heart.

She texted all the way home.

London, Saturday night, it seemed full of lovers. As I travelled back, I felt more alone than ever. Then there would be a "ping." I wasn't alone.

The bed smelt of her, her towel did. I buried my face in both. I told Annie about it.

Sunday I went to the local parish church rather than to chapel at the university where I worked. They were welcoming. It felt good. They invited me for coffee and cake afterwards. They cared. It felt very good.

I wrote. I texted Karen. I told Ma I'd be back next week-end. I e-mailed Annie and Mel.

What a week! From desolation to understanding.

And so to work, and Annie and I loved and played and talked, and her happiness for me increased that happiness. She had helped more than I could say. Her love, OUR love was the redemption song for us both.

Then Karen suggested she might stay overnight on Thursday. She had a meeting in town, and she could go back on Friday morning with me. I said yes with alacrity. Then it hit me. It would be Valentine's Day. Karen wanted to see me on Valentine's Day? It was like she was pursuing, wooing me. But I was hers. Oh my!

Annie was almost as excited as I was, and bless her, she put up with my witterings and my nervousness. We agreed I should wear fresh knickers. I prepared a romantic meal.

I met her at the local station. She kissed me. She had flowers! No one had ever given me flowers. She kissed me again. These were for me she said, her adorable Pixie. I gave her the flowers I had bought when we got to the flat -- which soon resembled a florists!

She liked the food. She liked the wine. We skipped the dessert. We were dessert.

I had been so nervous. I need not have been. Those fresh knickers were not very dry when they were discarded; nor were hers. And so we made love. It was everything I had hoped, much of which I had not even known how to hope. Indeed, if it had not been for Mrs. Annie, I am not sure I'd have known how to react to someone who asked me what I needed. But I did know, and knew how to say. And we made love again and again.

I told Mrs. Annie. Sharing my joy with her doubled it. I told Mrs. Mel, which trebled it.

So came the morning, and we were good.

We breakfasted locally. We packed. Time to go home. My mother would meet us at the station, she insisted. Which was why I was pondering the question of what to say.

"Ma, I am in love with the Vicar," is what I wanted to say. But even now, on the train back, we were circumspect. Who knew who was on the train and might twig we were lovers? So it seemed unlikely I could say that to my mother. But Mrs. Annie had made a good point about people noticing.

Ma was there. She hugged me then Karen.

We chatted about the meeting Karen had been at, and about the parish, and about Lent. She dropped Karen off at the Vicarage. I gave her a hug.

Then to the Big House.

I took my coat off.

"Pixie," said Ma, "are you sleeping with Karen?"

I gulped.