Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 761.

Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 761
by Angharad
  
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It felt strange waking up with someone other than Simon or the three musketeers in my bed. I woke aware that someone was watching me. It was Stella of course.

“Hello,” I said smiling at her.

“Hi,” she said back to me, “have you ever thought of doing it with a woman?” I literally flew out of the bed and she lay there giggling. “Now you’re up, make some tea will ya?”

“You bitch,” I spat at her then laughed as I went downstairs. I’d never have thought of that, and I wonder what would have happened if I’d called her bluff? I would have to ask her.

By the time I got back upstairs with two mugs of tea, she was sitting on the bed holding Puddin’. “Just my luck,” she said, “I thought I was going to get a little lie in.”

“What would have happened if I’d called your bluff?” I asked blushing.

“Try it and find out,” she winked back at me, “you never know, you might enjoy it?”

“What!” I gasped spitting tea all over the bedroom.

“I thought you were an expansive thinker, Cathy: how do you think all those nuns cope in convents?”

“I never think about it.”

“Well how do you think they cope?”

“I have no idea – the joke was doing press ups in the cucumber patch.”

“Yeah okay, or lights out candles in, I’ve heard those too.”

“I always assumed they were made of something special and weren’t into carnal pleasures.”

“You are naíve, Cathy, so naíve.”

“Well until I met up with you and Simon, I was unaware of sex and its possible pleasures.”

“What, you mean you weren’t busy exercising one hand while reading Penthouse when you were a kid? Then again, the way you became airborne when I spoke to you, that doesn’t entirely surprise me.”

“I’ve never seen Penthouse or any of those top shelf magazines–no desire to. There’s enough nudity in women’s magazines or the ordinary press.”

“Doesn’t it do anything for you?”

“What?”

“Duh! Nudity, you dopey nit.”

“No, not really.”

“Not even men?”

“Can’t say I’m that interested.”

“Jeez girl, I am.”

“Well, I’m obviously someone with a low libido.”

“You sure it hasn’t died?”

“No, Simon is usually able to resuscitate it enough to please both of us, why?”

“You are odd.”

“Well we know that, except when I say it, everyone complains that I’m putting myself down.”

“But don’t you like, get ‘urges’ now and again?”

“Very occasionally, but they soon go.”

“You’re not tempted to get a – you know.”

“Know what?”

“A mechanical aid, you know, a girl’s best friend.”

“What for?”

“Cathy – have you completely missed the point of the last few minutes of conversation?”

“Oh, that sort of aid – when you said mechanical, I was trying to think if you meant something for the kitchen or my bikes.”

“Talking of bikes, there was a letter downstairs which looked like it was from an insurance company.”

“When did that come?”

“Yesterday, you were out, I forgot – a bit like your libido.” I blushed, she was mean at times and I still didn’t know if she was joking or not. “Still, anytime you fancy being a bit more adventurous – let me know,” she winked as she left and I coughed and spluttered and blushed.

It was something which really hadn’t more than crossed my mind. I wasn’t telling lies when I told her that I was low sexed, I think I am, although Simon can have me flying high enough when he really tries. But doing it with women, or more correctly, with another woman – well, I mean, don’t I? But what do I mean? I have no idea, but that would be infidelity to Simon. No I couldn’t do that not for anything.

I’d heard a sad tale when I was in Uni, the first time–a girl I knew who had to leave because she got pregnant at seventeen, and whose mother had had her at a similar age had the misfortune to visit home and her mother had killed herself. Apparently, after being married and the bloke pushing off, like they often do, leaving her with a baby, she had a relationship with another woman. It apparently lasted a few years, then the other woman moved on and the girl’s mum did the deed. The daughter, quite understandably, was bereft.

I knew several girls who lived together, and I thought they were just flat mates, so when I used to hear stories about them or some lads who also seemed to be more than good friends, it used to astonish me – possibly even horrify me. But then sex was something that happened in marriage or between those who couldn’t control their animal urges. Conditioning is a wonderful thing – once you get rid of it. I mean, I’d be a total hypocrite, because I’m not married and have slept with Simon many times – as you know. Oh sod it,I’ll finish my tea and get up.

By the time I showered and dressed myself, Stella was dressed and changing Puddin’, she’d obviously got herself in gear this morning. “The look on your face,” she said smirking.

“Oh belt up,” I said back, I’m so original in my replies.

“Reminds me of that first night, do you remember?”

“What first night?” I suspect my blushes showed I remembered quite clearly.

“When we went to the ladies in the pub.”

“You tried to shut my head in the door if I remember correctly.”

“No, I opened the door of the cubicle on your head.”

“Same difference, I’m probably scarred for life.”

“You were absolutely sh…”

“Thank you, Stella, that baby of yours is going to grow up all bitter and twisted because of her mother.”

“You what? She’ll be the most well-adjusted kid on the planet, where nothing will shock her and she’ll have fun with anyone, unlike her uptight auntie.”

“Stella, I am not uptight, just not interested.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, No sex please, we’re British.

“Wasn’t that the name of a play or a farce?” I had vague recollections of the title.

“The sex lives of many Brits is a farce.”

“Would you like jam on your toast or marmalade?” I asked, moving towards the toaster and the cupboard.

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This story is 1100 words long.