Nandita To Nandini
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Two Thousand And Ten Ch. 01 free porn video
Author’s Note
This is the first part in a new story series that follows the lives of two friends over the course of one turbulent year – 2010. The story is set in the fictional town of Westborough-on-sea, a seaside town on the south coast of England. Other towns and cities mentioned are real, although individual places within them (such as pubs, café’s, hospitals etc.) are fictional.
Also, I would like to apologise for any factual inaccuracies or technical errors with certain aspects of the story – remember, this is a work of fiction and I reserve the right to some artistic license. So there!
If you are into stories about women with tits big enough to have their own gravitational field, or men with dicks that are so large they can sometimes be mistaken for a third leg, then I am afraid this story isn’t for you! If however, you like stories about ordinary people, then please read on and (hopefully) enjoy this story.
All characters are over 18.
*****
Two Thousand and Ten
Peter and Lindi had known each other since they were six years old. All through primary, and then secondary school, they had sat together in class. They attended sixth-form college together to study for their A-levels (he in maths and physics, she in English and history) and even ended up attending the same university. Eventually they even found themselves living in the same block of flats.
Everybody just assumed that they were a couple since they were rarely out of each other’s company. The truth was that they were simply two good friends who enjoyed being together as equals. Sex had never factored in their relationship with each other. Some interests they shared, they often styled themselves as ‘the world’s laziest adrenaline junkies’ due to their shared fondness for rollercoasters and low-budget straight to DVD horror movies, both of which were guaranteed to deliver a satisfying adrenaline rush for the least physical effort. Other interests were not shared, Peter played lead guitar in a local Pink Floyd tribute band whilst Lindi was a keen horsewoman. Despite not sharing these interests, both friends supported each other’s hobbies – she acting as a roadie for him and helping to set up the band’s equipment at gigs and he joining her on some of her many horse-related activities such as pony-trekking and gymkhanas.
‘Just good friends’ is one of the most tired and over-used clichés out there but it was entirely true in the case of Peter and Lindi – in all their years together they had never seen each other naked, never imagined having sex together, had never even kissed (well, not properly anyway). And yet the two of them enjoyed a closeness that very few couples enjoyed – it was an unspoken arrangement but, free from the pressure of sexual tension, they could be more open with each other than they could with anyone else in their lives.
Their friendship would be tested to its limits however, over the course of one unforgettable year – Two Thousand and Ten.
Chapter One – January and February
Friday, January 1st 2010 – 12:01am
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot a-and never brought to mind…’ The partygoers at Michaela’s flat sang out in unison as the chimes of Big Ben rang in the new year on the TV, ‘…Should auld acquaintance be forgot for the sake of auld lang syne.’
It would be a year that would prove critical in the lives of two of the partygoers in particular, but of course neither of them could have possibly foreseen what would ultimately transpire over the course of the coming twelve months.
‘For a-auld la-ang syne my dear, for a-auld la-ang syne, we’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for the sake of auld lang syne.’
‘Happy new year Lindi!’ Peter said as he hugged his best friend as the final chorus of ‘Auld lang syne’ died away to be replaced by collective wishes of goodwill and hope for the future among the assembled gathering of friends, couples and acquaintances that had convened to see in the new year in Michaela’s spacious seafront apartment.
‘Happy new year Peter!’ Lindi replied, returning the embrace and adding a brief peck on the cheek of the man she felt closest to in the entire world.
And then the music started up once more.
It was a fancy-dress party and the room was filled with various cowboys, sheiks, superheroes, sexy nurses and hunky firemen all gathered together dancing, drinking and gyrating to the beat. Peter and Lindi had chosen each other’s costumes for the evening’s revelry. For Lindi, Peter had chosen ‘Wonder Woman’ primarily because it had been her favourite TV show when she was a kid. He had briefly considered a Playboy Bunny outfit for her but decided against it in the end lest she feel that it would be sexist and demeaning for her. For Peter, Lindi chose a furry tiger costume, complete with a five-foot long tail, which he had to drape over his shoulder in order that it didn’t drag along the ground. The only reason she had chosen the tiger costume was that she thought he would look cute in it. That, coupled with the fact that he had adopted a tiger through a well-known wildlife charity, she had guessed that the majestic animals obviously appealed to him.
It wasn’t ideal for dancing in however, and it wasn’t long before Peter was sweating profusely and in need of a sit down. So he went out onto the balcony that overlooked the beach of the seaside town where they lived and cooled himself off in the chilly January air.
Lindi joined him after a few minutes.
‘So… Two thousand and ten. I can’t believe how time flies.’ Lindi said.
‘Me neither,’ Peter replied, ‘I remember when we were kids a year seemed to last forever – now that we’ve hit our thirties the years seem to flash by. And what’s out there for us? Years of growing older, encroaching senility and then… death.’
‘Bloody hell, lighten up already! What’s made you so maudlin all of a sudden?’
‘I dunno,’ Peter sighed, ‘I guess I just crave excitement I suppose.’
‘Hmmm.’ Lindi agreed.
They stood in silence for a while and listened to the sound of the waves washing over the sandy shore below and the sound of the party indoors.
‘You know, you look adorable in that costume!’ Lindi said with a smile to break the silence.
‘It’s definitely not made for dancing in though, that’s for sure!’ Peter replied.
‘Come on, it’s bloody freezing out here!’ Lindi said, ‘We’re supposed to be partying remember!’
‘We could always huddle together for shared warmth.’ Peter suggested with a grin.
‘Easy, Tiger!’ Lindi replied.
And she took hold of Peter’s tail and dragged him back inside.
‘Hey! Careful with that!!’ Peter chuckled as his friend pulled him in by his tail.
Friday, January 1st 2010 – 3:27am
It was getting on for 3:30am before Peter and Lindi took their leave and set out on the near half-mile walk back to the six-storey block of flats they called home. The sight of a blonde haired Wonder Woman in the company of a six-foot tall tiger, with its tail draped around Wonder Woman’s neck as a makeshift scarf, was a truly bizarre one but nobody was on the streets of Westborough-on-sea at that early hour to witness it. The shops were all shuttered and closed for the night and occasional items of litter flew around as they were swept down the streets of the sleeping town by the sea breeze. Even the ever-present seagulls had roosted for the night.
The bells of the clock tower in the town square could be heard in the distance chiming the fourth hour of the New Year as the two friends let themselves in to the building they called home. Lindi’s flat was on the fourth floor with Peter’s being on the sixth. It was once a grand Victorian hotel that had fallen on hard times in the 1960’s when cheap package holidays to foreign destinations became more attractive to British holidaymakers than potentially rainy holidays by the sea in
Britain. But after lying virtually derelict for almost 30 years it was purchased by a developer and converted into 12 flats.
‘Well, I guess this is goodnight then.’ Lindi said as she turned her key to let herself in to her flat.
‘More like good morning you mean.’ Peter the tiger replied.
Lindi smiled and gave her furry friend a brief hug and a peck on the cheek.
‘Thanks for coming tonight, I know Michaela’s my boss and that you didn’t need to come but I’m glad you came. And besides, you do look gorgeous – you should dress up as a tiger more often!’
‘I’ll think about it.’ Peter replied jokily, ‘Now, I don’t know about you but I’m absolutely knackered and my bed is calling me.’
‘Mine too.’ Lindi yawned.
‘Could you do me a favour before I go on up?’ Peter asked.
‘Sure.’ Lindi replied.
‘Unzip me from out of this thing, I can’t reach it by myself without straining something – I’m not as supple as I used to be, alas.’ Peter turned around and pointed to the zip that ran down the back of the tiger costume.
Lindi pulled down the zip, once she had done so Peter turned and faced her.
‘Thanks Lin.’
And with that he gave his friend one last peck on the cheek and headed upstairs to his own flat. As soon as he got inside he shrugged his way out of the furry tiger costume. He had only worn a t-shirt and underpants underneath the thick layer of fur fabric, but he was so warm inside it that he had sweated almost as much as he had drank at the party. As a result, his underclothes were soaking wet and rather smelly. It was far too late – or rather, far too early – to take a shower. It could wait until morning, he figured and so he just collapsed onto his bed totally naked and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Monday, January 4th 2010 – 6:45am
Lindi stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. It was the first day of the new term at Westborough-on-sea Secondary School where she worked as a history teacher in the humanities department. There was always something rather depressing about the first day of this particular term of the school year – it was a symbol that the fun and frivolity of the holidays was in the past, that playtime was over and now it was time to get back to the grindstone. Especially since it meant having to get up and go to work while it was still dark outside.
With a sigh Lindi dropped her towel onto her bed and stood before her full-length mirror. She regarded her naked form. She often thought that she might be unique among women – unique in that there wasn’t a single part of her anatomy that she felt needed improvement or altering in some way. That wasn’t to say that she was particularly vain or narcissistic – it was rather that she was happy with the way she looked and was comfortable in her own skin.
She admired her womanly figure, the soft curves of her hips, her smooth skin, her naturally blonde hair that reached down almost as far as her smooth buttocks, her breasts crowned with pert pinkish-brown nipples and her meticulously shaved vulva.
It was these parts of her body that she turned her attention to now. She felt the comforting sensation of tiny sparks of pleasure as her hands stroked over the smooth skin of her breasts and little jolts of electricity as she tweaked her nipples between her fingers. It was only a matter of time before one of her hands began to venture downwards towards first her smooth tummy and eventually, by way of a couple of circuits of her bellybutton, down to the sensual cleft that lay neatly between her legs.
To Lindi, her vulva was always her favourite part of her body. Not simply because of its capacity to deliver her ecstatic levels of orgasmic pleasure, but also because from the outside at least, its simplistic beauty had a pleasing symmetry about it. She regularly shaved between her legs whenever she was in her bath – she disliked pubic hair. In her mind it only served to obscure the sensual beauty of the cleft of her outer labia. She wasn’t troubled by exposed inner labia that protruded out from the clefts on some of the women she had seen in the changing room of the gym she attended on the outskirts of town. She figured that a woman’s genitals should be tucked neatly away inside her, the better to preserve their mystery. Men’s genitals were supposed to dangle outside the body, she reasoned, not women’s.
She believed that men’s genitals had their own unique and innate beauty about them. A friend of hers once commented that she thought that men’s genitalia were fundamentally ugly ‘all dangling and wobbling around like that’, she had said at the time. It was a sentiment that Lindi fervently disagreed with. To her, a man’s penis was the fountain of his masculinity. It held the ability to deliver pleasure both to its owner and to the person whom he loved at the same time. It could deliver the very elixir of life – his masculine essence, his semen – from the depths of his testicles and into the welcoming embrace of his lover’s womb wherein, if it met and united with one of her precious ova, a new human life could be created. She appreciated that other women might not share her appreciation of the aesthetics of human male genital anatomy, but she was certain that she was far from alone in her admiration of them.
As her fingers started to circle the ‘epicentre of her feminine pleasure palace’ as she often euphemistically called her clitoris, she decided to transfer over to the bed. She wheeled the mirror to the foot of the bed – watching herself masturbating was one of her favourite things to do. As soon as she laid down on her back and spread her legs, she dove back into her vagina with her fingers and began to pleasure herself in earnest. It was usually the only way she could reliably be able to achieve a satisfying orgasm. She also owned a variety of toys to help stimulate her further, but this morning she decided that they would not be necessary. Her own hand would be sufficient
Thus far in her life no man had ever been able to make her cum with his penis alone. She didn’t hold this against any of the men she had slept with over the years, or their skills as lovers – she just accepted that it was just the way her body behaved. But she did sometimes feel a stab of jealousy at the apparent ease with which men often achieved climax. Whether it was via penetrating a woman’s vagina or simply via their own hand, men were pretty much guaranteed an orgasm every time. At least women’s orgasms lasted longer, she figured. That didn’t necessarily make them better than men’s orgasms, just different. After all, unless one has lived as both a woman and a man there is no way to ever experience both and therefore no way of knowing for certain which is better.
She once asked Peter what it felt like when he experienced his orgasms. Several glasses of wine had been consumed that evening which explained how the conversation skewed off from ‘Daughters of Darkness’, which was their favourite horror film, to the subject of sex. He told her that a man’s orgasm was akin to a firework – it erupts in a brilliant flash, he had said, high up into the sky before exploding in a starburst of colour and sound and then quickly fading away into the night sky. She often admired his way with words.
Looking at herself, naked and on her back with her legs akimbo and the fingers of her right hand buried in her vagina while her left hand danced around her clitoris, Lindi could feel the pleasure start to build.
She fantasised, as she often did, of being deflowered by a beautiful stranger who she had only just met.
The mystery man strips her naked and then pushes her down onto the bed. Within a few moments he too is naked – his masculinity is forceful but not too threatening. His penis decisively erect and drooling a crystal clear strand of precum. The submissive maiden looks on as her mysterious lover takes his penis in his hand and pulls his foreskin back, revealing the smooth and glistening d
ark pink flesh of his glans – the ‘epicentre of his masculine pleasure palace’. Lindi gazes at the tiny mouth of his meatus, the source of the precum that still drools in a thin string which dances around as his erection pulses in time with his heartbeat. It is also the source of his semen, which would soon bathe the inside of her vagina where her cervix would draw it into her womb to fertilise her.
She wants him. She yearns for him to penetrate her. She needs to feel his hot stiffness inside her and make raw, visceral, passionate love to her.
Faster and faster, Lindi’s hands worked their magic on her most private and sensitive parts – increasing her tension and stoking the fire of her arousal.
The mystery man lines himself up and for a moment their eyes meet. Without a word spoken between them, he suddenly thrusts forwards and instantly the timid young maiden feels an intense flash of searing pain before feeling a fullness that she has been yearning for all her life as the man’s penis tears through her hymen, spilling her blood onto the bed beneath her.
She is a maiden no more.
The mysterious stranger grunts and grimaces above her as he forces his maleness into her again and again – she can smell the muskiness of his masculinity and taste the saltiness of his sweat as she kisses the man’s smooth chest while he pounds her into submission.
Almost there! Lindi thought to herself as she could feel her orgasm begin to build – the pressure within her increasing almost to bursting point. Almost.
Almost!
The powerful pelvic thrusts of the man above her, almost twice her size, cause her whole body to shake and she cries out in a simultaneous exultation of pleasure and pain as his efforts trip her over the edge and she allows her orgasm to consume her.
‘YESSSS!! HHHAAAAHHHH!! Oh ffffuccckkk!! Hahhhhhhhh!! Mmmmmmmmm!! Hah! Hah! Hah! Ha! Hah! Hah! Ooooooooo!! Mmmm!!’ Lindi cried out in orgasmic bliss as she opened her eyes, breaking the spell of fantasy, and gazed upon the reality of her reflection in the mirror as her whole body tensed under the onslaught of an intense climax. Her face and chest flushed red with arousal, her nipples hard and erect like small bullets of flesh, her fingers deep inside her vulva and drenched in her vaginal secretions.
As with all good things however, it came to an end. Her desire sated, the peak of orgasmic pleasure faded and shimmered off into the distance leaving nothing but a naked woman on her back, her legs splayed out, panting with her fingers buried in her vagina. In her fantasies, the man ALWAYS made her cum – it was just a pity that real life never imitated her fantasy. Despite this, there was one thing of which she was absolutely certain – there wasn’t a dildo or sex toy anywhere that could possibly ever feel better than the feeling of having a real live penis, attached to a good looking and considerate man, sliding into and out of her vagina. Even though she couldn’t seem to cum from having a man inside her, the feeling of being close – the intimacy of sharing her body with a man who shared his body with hers in return, and of feeling his heart beating as he filled her with his love – more than made up for it. And besides, a good man would always take the time to make sure she was properly satisfied via ‘other means’.
Now that she had come back to her senses, Lindi set about the mundane tasks of getting ready for work. She replaced the mirror in its usual location in the corner of the room and then opened up her underwear drawer. She selected a pair of lacy hot pink knickers and accompanied them with a matching bra. One of the things she always insisted on was that bra and briefs must always match – even if nobody was actually destined to see them. As she slipped on first her knickers and then her bra she thought about the day ahead.
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