Linda s Lay on the Thames Part 2
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Day 6 Sunday
I woke up around 7.30 and had to explain to Natalie that I had to leave to continue my hike. As a parting gift I left her my crotchless fishnets. We’d discarded our respective fishnet attires just prior to going to sleep. Natalie in turn gifted me her black hold-ups as a souvenir for me. Both sets of nylons had miraculously stood up to the punishment they’d taken the night before. I dressed, putting her black fishnets on and having exchanged contact details and one last kiss I promptly left. I’m sure the sight of a woman in a fancy dress, a pair of black fishnets and with hair and make-up that made her look like she’d been dragged head-first through a hedge first thing in the morning, especially a Sunday morning elicited many looks and wandering thoughts, but I didn’t care. Indeed I found it rather arousing, all those people wondering what I’d gotten up to the previous night and with whom. I unselfconsciously stopped off at the same ‘greasy spoon’ for breakfast as I had the previous evening and had a slightly less hearty breakfast as I was going to be doing a lot of walking today. Plus, I didn’t want anything to ruin Andrea’s dress. I returned to my room, stripped and showered. I dried off, dressed and set my hair and make-up and took a detour to Andrea & Richard’s.
“So how did it go last night?” Andrea asked me as I sat at her kitchen table drinking coffee.
“I spent the night with a young lesbian.” I omitted Natalie’s name but did describe what we’d got up to with each other and ‘Big Richard’.
“Well I’ve got my own ‘Big Richard’ and he’s going to be put to good use before the mornings out.” Andrea promised me. At that moment Richard appeared in the kitchen, sporting a ‘five o’clock shadow’, a pale-blue flannel dressing-gown and slippers.
“Morning Linda. Andrea’s dress still in one piece?” We both laughed, much to his confusion and after a trip to their loo and some good-bye pecks on their cheeks I headed back to the river and resumed my journey along the Thames. As I did so I began whistling ‘The Lonely Man’ theme from the old ‘Incredible Hulk’ TV show which seemed appropriate. Meanwhile in a house in Oxford suburbia, I was confident a man named ‘Richard’ was getting a good work-out courtesy of his wife Andrea, all without leaving his bed…
Day 7 Monday
I left Abingdon and thanked the nice old lady who’d put me up for the night in her B & B. I’m finding I like having sex free days on this journey. They give my pussy chance to recover and for me to appreciate it more when I get it. I’d gone to bed just before bed and propped up on a couple of pillows, read more of my ‘From Source to Sea’ book. Learning amongst other things that there are a lot of churches near the Thames named ‘St. Mary’s’…
After a day walking along the meandering Thames I was nearing the end of another day’s work. My destination for the day was Goring and I had a room booked at an Inn named ‘The Taurus’. As I approached Cleve Lock I saw a massive Dutch-style houseboat, moored by the riverbank. It was large and black and easily 20 feet wide. I’d seen a number of them on the Amsterdam canals and marvelled at how someone had brought this one so far up river. As I drew closer I could make out details. The ’house’ section rose some eighteen inches above the deck and spanned all but a foot or so of the deck on either side with a gently sloping roof. There were a couple of what I took to be either funnels or smoke stacks, a satellite dish and some aerials and after was a glazed box roughly the size of four telephone boxes in a square. I could just make out the outline of a person inside it. There was a Black Labrador lying in a foetal position near the bow, its greying muzzle and docile nature telling me it was a senior dog. It mewled pathetically at my approach.
“Hello boy, or girl.” I said pausing by a gangplank that connected the boat, moored approximately three feet out into the water.
“Her name’s ‘Rosie’, just like this boat.” A prim-educated voice called from astern. I looked up to see a fifty-something woman (I was later to learn she’d just turned fifty-five), moving down the boat towards me. She was about my height with a ‘pear-shaped’ physique and an ample bosom, accentuated by a tight-fitting white t-shirt with an anchor and chain symbol emblazoned across the chest. Boot-cut jeans turned up at the ankles, a pair of cork flip-flops and a black leather Breton fisherman’s cap atop shirt red hair, completed the ensemble. She stopped beside the dog and I could see that she had a face that in her youth was probably quite attractive, though now it was somewhat weather-beaten and lined, with a small cluster of pale freckles on and around her nose and cheeks that had survived puberty.
“Hello Rosie.” I cooed at the dog.
“My name’s Angela by the way. Now let me guess, Thames River walker?” Angela stooped down and extended her hand. In order to take it I had to step up onto the boarding ramp.
“What gave me away?” I quipped back after a brief handshake. I stepped back onto the path, my ‘gaydar’ screaming ‘dyke’!
“Got much farther to go today?” Angela asked.
“I’m booked into the Taurus in town.” I replied.
“That’s my local. Most nights, weather-permitting I like to go there for a pint before bed. I might see you in there later.” She waved goodbye to me as I pressed on.
The Taurus Inn was a little way off the river, but not too far. A quaint little pub with a picture of the night sky and the constellation that bore its name on the sign outside. Inside it was a typical quaint, English country pub. There were a number of people already in there when I stepped in around 7.00 in the evening. Judging by their attire it was a mix of locals and tourists, mainly fellow Thames hikers. Music played in a juke box, a sound of a dozen or so conversations challenged the music box for noise. I nodded a few greetings whenever I made eye contact with patrons and walked to the bar.
“My name’s Linda – I booked a room here online.” I said to the Landlady, a short, rotund lady in her fifties with a mop of dark hair that looked like a bird’s next stuck on her head. She smiled at me and walked over to a where she’d left a clipboard with a computer print-out on it. She kept a pair of reading glasses on a long-chain and put them on. She consulted the list, muttering my name over and over.
“Oh dear.” She said.
“What, what is it?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.
“It’s these bloody computers, excuse my French.” She replied.
“The booking didn’t go through? Because I checked my accounts since making the booking and it went through. I even have a confirmation email.” I pulled out my smart phone and brought up the email in question.
“No, it’s a double-booking.” Explained the Landlady, sounding crest-fallen enough for both of us.
“I take it there’s no other room available?” I asked, already guessing the answer.
“I’m afraid not.” Was the reply. “However, we’ll obviously give you a full refund and a meal and a drink on the house, sky’s the limit. Whilst you can see about making alternative arrangements. There are other places to stay in town.”
I was left with little choice and after asking for a large glass of Merlot sat removed my backpack and sat at a nearby vacant table. I made myself comfortable and began scouring the internet on my phone. There were a number of other places to stay in town including Air BnBs, but no vacancies. I’d ordered a Pedigree beef lasagne with a side order of chunky chips and some mayonnaise. As I ate my dinner and drank the wine, I wondered where I would stay for the night. It looked like a campsite would be my best bet. Unless of course I could pull which, was after all Suzie’s original challenge. I looked around the tap room and didn’t immediately see any obvious candidates. It was as I finished my meal that Angela entered the pub as promised. She’d swapped the flip-flops for moccasins and added a denim jacket to her outfit and quite a bit of make-up such as eye-shadow and ruby-red lipstick. As she walked past I could smell some quite expensive perfume. Mutton dressed as lamb.
“Hello again, did you like the food? I can’t recommend it enough.” She said cheerfully quite unaware of my predicament.
“The food’s very nice. But their room booking system leaves much to be desired.” I replied despondently.
“Another double booking?” I overheard Angela ask the Landlady when she got to the bar. I didn’t hear the reply but I was soon joined by Angela brandishing a pint of ale and a medium-glass of Merlot.
“May I join you?” She asked as I swallowed the last morsel of my admittedly excellent meal.
“By all means.” Perhaps Angela knew somewhere to stay.
“You could always stay with me on my boat. There’s plenty of room. I’d be glad of the company. Rosie’s a wonderful dear, but as a dog, not a good conversationalist.”
“But, wouldn’t I be putting you out. I mean you don’t even know me.” As I said one thing, I thought the opposite. My ‘gaydar’ was spot on, I was sure of it, and I was pretty certain that conversation wasn’t the only thing she wanted out of me. It would explain the make-up and scent. The only thing missing was a sexy outfit, but that would have been too obvious.
“You can vouch for me not being an axe-murderer can’t you?” Angela called out rather theatrically over her shoulder at the Landlord & lady. They both nodded; doubtless relieved a solution to their problem had been found.
We made small talk with me outlining my hike (omitting the sexual aspect of it), and when she asked me, I told Angela how much I thought I had left to travel.
“That’s quite far you’ve come.” She agreed. We eventually finished our drinks and after a final round of apologies from my almost-hosts I hefted my backpack onto my shoulders and followed Angela out of the door and down the street, across a bridge and back along the Thames.
“I’m a lesbian.” She suddenly announced when it was just the two of us walking along the path towards her boat.
“Oh, I never would have guessed it.” I lied.
“I thought I’d better tell you.” She explained, though had I been a sweet innocent CIS girl, I wouldn’t have had a clue why she would feel compelled to tell me. Indeed it might have made me have second thoughts. My guess was she wanted me and was testing me for a reaction to see if she had a chance.
“Well I’m bi so I’m not one to judge.” I noticed from the corner of my eye, hers blaze momentarily. In her head she was probably fisting the hair in triumph.
“Best of all worlds. I used to think I was straight.” She remarked nonchalantly.
“What made you change your mind?” I asked.
“I found out my late husband was fucking his secretary and I found myself jealous, of him!” She replied.
“What happened to your husband?”
“He and his secretary were on a ‘business trip’ on the continent about seven years ago when they were involved in a fatal RTA. She survived and recovered and it turned out like you, she swung both ways. We had great, eye-opening fun helping each other through the grieving process. I bought Rosie with the sale of the house we lived in.”
We’d reached the barge by this point and mounted the gangplank. The dog Rosie was nowhere to be seen. Using a handle, Angela winched the gangplank so that it retracted slowly onto the deck.
“If you don’t want to spend the night with a fifty-five year-old dyke, this is your last chance to get off.” She grinned. I followed her down into the main cabin via a couple of sets of double doors which she shut and locked behind us. The doors were separated by a set of steps. Entering through the inner doors I was greeted by a large, open-plan space with pine wood panelling, varnished wood floors with a large Persian rug. There was a fully equipped kitchen containing; cooker, fridge-freezer, washer-dryer, cupboards, and a sink with a counter upon which was a toaster, kettle & microwave. Next came the combined living and sleeping area. There was a grey three-seater sofa that was L-shaped and a matching armchair with a tall, wide-brimmed reading-lamp beside and just behind it and a foot stool. The walls were covered with shelves, overflowing with books and on some kind of rail system was a home-entertainment centre that included a forty-inch LED flat-screen TV, set-top box and so forth. I guessed the rails were so that someone could watch the TV from either the sofa or a king-size double-bed that dominated the aft-section of the cabin. The mattress sat atop a set of drawers and at its feet was a large ‘treasure chest. Natural light came from a dozen nine-inch portholes, six per side and a large tent-shaped skylight. As I set my backpack down, Angela set about ‘securing’ the boat for the night ahead.
“Would you mind putting that on please?” She asked me, referring to the reading lamp. I did while she removed her cap and denim jacket, hanging them up on some pegs protruding from the wall opposite the kitchen and above a cage containing a sleeping Rosie. She walked to the bed and turned on a small lamp on bedside cabinets each side of the bed. She then stood on a footstool and grabbed a small ring-shaped handle in the ceiling and drew a metal sheet, much like a garage door across the skylight. It had been getting dark anyway, but the natural light was severely reduced. She climbed down off the stool and put it back where she found it. She then started closing the portholes with metal disc-shaped plates that were hinged, they were kept in place with butterfly catches. She did the four at the rear of the boat. Unbidden, I did the rest.
“There you are, snug as a bug in a rug.” Angela said addressing the boat.
It certainly looked a lot cosier with the three lamps on. They gave a warm glow around the place. There were other lights Linda noted including two long neon strip lights in the ceiling. She also saw four strategically-placed radiators. She wondered what it would be like on a winter’s night.
“I love this place. And with the portholes and skylight covered, you get privacy, even though you’re by the river.” I said enthusiastically.
“Thanks. It cost a lot. It also has under floor heating.” Angela still stood by the bed and as she spoke she pealed off her t-shirt and a plain pearl-coloured bra, exposing somewhat saggy boobs with large pink areolas & nipples, her shoes, jeans and a pair of pearl-coloured knickers. Her quim was quite hairy and when the time came to go down on her, my tongue was going to have to navigate a pubic assault course to sample her delights.
“You’re getting undressed, and it’s only just after 9.00!” I feigned a low level of alarm which I didn’t really feel I’d already decided I was going to fuck her if that’s what she wanted. Indeed although I found her quite unattractive, made-up as she was, I felt a rather perverse stirring at the thought of sleeping with her.
“But Linda, you do know I offered you a bed for the night for sex? I mean you are bi and from I can tell, I’d say this wouldn’t be your first rodeo.” I then started to undress. In a matter of minutes I was naked to and she held out her hand.
“I think I’d better use the loo first.” I said. She gestured to a door at the opposite end of the boat. I walked through into a wood-effect bathroom with both an old-style bath and a shower. I did both a number one and two and used her toothbrush to clean my teeth. I then stepped out into the main cabin and found her waiting on the bed in what she assumed was an attractive pose with one leg bent at the knee as if she was the subject of a nude. I moved to the bed and flopped onto it beside her.
“Careful, you don’t want to rock the boat.” She cooed. I smiled and for the next couple of minutes we rolled about on the enormous bed, play-wrestling and kissing. Yes, the prospect of this ‘old hag’ having her perverted way with me was a massive turn-on. My pussy was already damp with anticipation. The ‘wrestling phase’ ended when she pinned me down beneath her with her hands clasped around my wrists and proceeded to kiss me, her tongue pushing past my lips into my waiting mouth, my tongue doing likewise. Releasing my wrists she began moving down my body, planting kisses on it every step of the way. My neck was a sensitive area and I enjoyed her nibbling away at the area around my throat. She continued moving down and spent considerable time around my nipples, tickling them with her tongue. She was certainly pouring petrol on the flames as she essentially worshipped my body. Once more she continued her exploration of my body, moving down it slowly, and planting kisses all the time along my abdomen, though not my belly-button. She deliberately avoided my quim, contenting herself with merely lightly blowing on my hooded clit. Then came my legs and before I knew it she was turning me onto my stomach and the kissing continued up my back. When she turned me back onto my front again she kissed me hard on the lips again.
“Now, let’s have a look at pussy-willow here.” She said. Angela sat up on the bed and placed her right hand down between my legs and cupping it, began rubbing my clit and labia. The sensations were tremendous, she was really good at ‘Jilling’ someone. I guessed she had practice on herself and others. As she continued rubbing and my cunt got juicier and slimier she inserted her fore & index fingers in my vagina and rubbed my clit which had now emerged, erect from its hood with her thumb. The initial secretions of my pre-cum serving to lubricate and assist with her actions.
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!” I rhythmically panted.
“Enjoying yourself?” I nodded.
“Close to cumming?” Again, I managed a nod.
“And what about now?” There was something about her tone of voice that telegraphed that she was about to do something. My instincts were dead on for a moment later, she brought her fingers into contact with my g-spot and I squirmed and shuddered on the bed.
“AHHHH!!!” I shrieked as I came, my hips bucking and thrashing about on the bed, joined by the rest of my body.
“Here, suck this, suck it dry.” She held her slimy, gleaming digits that had just given me such pleasure and I duly did as she asked. Licking them clean, tasting myself on my lips.
She lay down beside me, lying on her side and I rolled over to face me.
“Enjoy?” She asked. My reply took the form of a long, lingering kiss in which she must surely have tasted some of my juices. It was my turn I felt and I pushed her onto her back and began planting kisses on her body. Though not quite as smooth or supple as mine, it was not so worn. Like her I started kissing her neck, shoulders and breasts, followed by her abdomen. But unlike her, I stopped at her cunt and set to work on her clit with my tongue. I ran it over her clit, over and over, back and forth.
“Mmm!” She moaned, always a good sign. I continued working on her clit and its hood. Taking both in my mouth to suck on it as well as gliding the tip of my tongue across the mound. I applied all the techniques I’d picked up over the years in rug-munching and had enjoyed the opportunity to practice this past week on my travels. I shifted my body around so that I was half-on and half-off the bed, my head between her spread legs, tonguing her cunt. Her hands blindly sought out the back of my head and upon finding it they clamped on firmly and pressed my head down, almost threatening to stuff my head up her cunt. All I could do was lick her more intensely for the sooner she climaxed the sooner I’d be free from her hairy Mount of Venus. I licked away, lapping at her labia as well as her clit. I even stuck my tongue into her gash, bobbing my head up and down.
“This is great! Keeping licking my twat slut! Keep licking until madam tells you to stop!” She commanded, clearly getting carried away. I did as my ‘madam’ commanded, guided by her bodily responses and the grunts, gasps, groans and moans she made as I did so.
“That’s it slut, keep it up, don’t even take a breath, just get me off!”
“Yes Madam.” I stammered out as I managed to break momentary contact with her quim. Eventually, my efforts began paying off and with a succession of sharp breaths that had me worried that she was having a heart attack, she let fly with a shriek of her own as her body began convulsing and I got pelted in the face with warm, salty liquid which I hope was cum.
“YEEEAAAAAAA!!!!”
Silence reigned for a couple of minutes. Angela released my head and I slumped backwards until only my head and shoulders were on the bed.
“That took a lot out of me.” I said when I’d sufficiently recovered.
“I’m not surprised, what with all that hiking you’ve been doing with that pack on your back.” Angela replied. She helped me back on the bed and we spooned for a while. The would-be dominatrix of minutes earlier was now a tender lover. I asked her about that.
“Just dirty talk. I get carried away sometimes when I’m having fun.” She explained. She gently lifted my chin up and kissed me, softly on the lips, her tongue slowly entered my mouth. I responded in kind. When we broke the kiss. She swung her legs off the bed and made for the trunk at the end of it. I rolled over on my back and propped myself up by my elbows. By then the lid had been raised and I couldn’t see her.
“Close your eyes.” She commanded, “Don’t open them until I say so.” Intrigued I did as she asked and for good measure lay face down on the bed. Behind me I heard a slight squeaking noise followed by a click as the Angela closed the trunk and then the sound of the bathroom door opening.
“You can open them now.” She called from there as the door was closing. I did so and rolled back onto my back. A moment later Angela flung the bathroom door open and strode into the room.
“Ta-Dah!” She was wearing a black strap-on dildo, which was easily the biggest I’d seen in ‘the flesh’. It positively shone and glistened, even in the ambient lighting of the cabin. I estimated it to be around ten inches long to the hilt, maybe even eleven and had a slightly bigger girth than ‘Big Richard’. She walked to the bed and climbed on and began kissing me. I felt the rubberised plastic against my body as she lay next to me.
“May I?” I asked. She rolled onto her bag to let me examine it. It had a slight curve to it and was a faithful reproduction of the male organ, complete with all the ridges and indentations. A closer peak beneath the harness revealed it was a ‘couples’ strap-on meaning there was something to pleasure the wearer as well as the receiver. In this case a plate that rubbed against the wearer’s clit.
“So, are you up for it?” Angela asked. Was I ever?
“Bring it on.” I said enthusiastically. I lay back and spread my legs. Meanwhile Angela leaned over me and reached for the top drawer of the bedside cabinet on the right-hand side of the bed. She extracted a bottle of bottled and the dong was soon drenched in lube, as was my pussy.
“Too much?” She asked.
“One way to find out.” I said.
Angela smiled broadly and hunched over me, one hand bracing herself against the mattress, the other grasping the dildo’s hilt. I could feel the fake glans pressing against my lubed-up pussy lips and then Angela lurched forward and the dildo effortlessly slid inside me. It felt good to say the least and I gasped audibly, loudly in seventh heaven. A smile quickly appeared on my face and Angela kissed me, though a little harder and with less tenderness.
“Alright bitch, are you ready for this monster fucking I’m going to give you?” ‘Mistress’ was obviously back.
“Yes Ma’am.” I said, positively drooling. Angela then began thrusting in and out of me with real gusto. I was soon gasping and groaning as she did so and the headboard began banging against the bulkhead.
“Fell free to make as much noise as you like. With the portholes and skylight closed and covered, very little sound escapes here. So come on bitch, lets hear you scream.
“Ohhh yes! Oh yes! Ahhh! Ahhh! Oooo! Fuck me hard Ma’am! I’ve been a very naughty bitch, very naughty indeed!” She loved the mixture of noises and dirty talk that spilled like a babbling brook from my mouth. This certainly had a stimulating effect on Angela who began fucking me even harder and deeper. For her part, she too was groaning and grunting from her clit being rubbed every time she made a thrust. Her head was tilted up, which essentially went forward and like mine her face was a grimace, sweat pouring of it from her exertions, her eyes practically closed.
“Mmm! Oooo! Ahhh! Take it – Ohhh – bitch-whore! Take it!” For my part the tingly sensations were incredible and if I’d not been pinned under Angela, I would surely have shimmied and wriggled my way off the bed and onto the floor. I also began pushing back against Angela’s thrusts, which impacted both what I was feeling, and clearly Angela who’s gasps were increasing and based on her initial climax of the evening, she was close, much closer than me.
“AHHH SHIT YEAHHH!” She squealed and shuddered above me. And then, nothing, no more thrusting. Moments away from my own climax, the selfish old dyke had stopped.
“You haven’t cum yet, eh?” She asked.
“No, ma’am.” I admitted.
“Would you like me to finish you off with this?” She was referring to the dong.
“Yes, please madam. I want you to make me cum again with that big black cock of yours.” With a cruel smile she resumed thrusting, slowly at first, in part because her clit was apparently still sensitive from her own clitoral climax, but she soon quickened her pace again and got me to the edge.
“OOO! YES! I’M CUMMING! I’M CUMMING! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!” The orgasm was positively wrung out of me by Angela and her monster latex prick. As I began to come down from my climax Angela withdrew and fell onto the bed beside me.
“Phew. I didn’t think I had it in me.” She turned to face me once more, “If I still smoked I’d light one up about now.” She added. We both grinned and had a great kiss. The evening didn’t end there. Not long afterwards I used the dildo on her and had two clitoral orgasms to her single combined vaginal & clitoral one and after we both used our mouths and tongues to luck our combined juices from the dong. The night finally ended with a sixty-nine before we both douched ourselves thoroughly in the bathroom and fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.
I woke up around 7.30 and had to explain to Natalie that I had to leave to continue my hike. As a parting gift I left her my crotchless fishnets. We’d discarded our respective fishnet attires just prior to going to sleep. Natalie in turn gifted me her black hold-ups as a souvenir for me. Both sets of nylons had miraculously stood up to the punishment they’d taken the night before. I dressed, putting her black fishnets on and having exchanged contact details and one last kiss I promptly left. I’m sure the sight of a woman in a fancy dress, a pair of black fishnets and with hair and make-up that made her look like she’d been dragged head-first through a hedge first thing in the morning, especially a Sunday morning elicited many looks and wandering thoughts, but I didn’t care. Indeed I found it rather arousing, all those people wondering what I’d gotten up to the previous night and with whom. I unselfconsciously stopped off at the same ‘greasy spoon’ for breakfast as I had the previous evening and had a slightly less hearty breakfast as I was going to be doing a lot of walking today. Plus, I didn’t want anything to ruin Andrea’s dress. I returned to my room, stripped and showered. I dried off, dressed and set my hair and make-up and took a detour to Andrea & Richard’s.
“So how did it go last night?” Andrea asked me as I sat at her kitchen table drinking coffee.
“I spent the night with a young lesbian.” I omitted Natalie’s name but did describe what we’d got up to with each other and ‘Big Richard’.
“Well I’ve got my own ‘Big Richard’ and he’s going to be put to good use before the mornings out.” Andrea promised me. At that moment Richard appeared in the kitchen, sporting a ‘five o’clock shadow’, a pale-blue flannel dressing-gown and slippers.
“Morning Linda. Andrea’s dress still in one piece?” We both laughed, much to his confusion and after a trip to their loo and some good-bye pecks on their cheeks I headed back to the river and resumed my journey along the Thames. As I did so I began whistling ‘The Lonely Man’ theme from the old ‘Incredible Hulk’ TV show which seemed appropriate. Meanwhile in a house in Oxford suburbia, I was confident a man named ‘Richard’ was getting a good work-out courtesy of his wife Andrea, all without leaving his bed…
Day 7 Monday
I left Abingdon and thanked the nice old lady who’d put me up for the night in her B & B. I’m finding I like having sex free days on this journey. They give my pussy chance to recover and for me to appreciate it more when I get it. I’d gone to bed just before bed and propped up on a couple of pillows, read more of my ‘From Source to Sea’ book. Learning amongst other things that there are a lot of churches near the Thames named ‘St. Mary’s’…
After a day walking along the meandering Thames I was nearing the end of another day’s work. My destination for the day was Goring and I had a room booked at an Inn named ‘The Taurus’. As I approached Cleve Lock I saw a massive Dutch-style houseboat, moored by the riverbank. It was large and black and easily 20 feet wide. I’d seen a number of them on the Amsterdam canals and marvelled at how someone had brought this one so far up river. As I drew closer I could make out details. The ’house’ section rose some eighteen inches above the deck and spanned all but a foot or so of the deck on either side with a gently sloping roof. There were a couple of what I took to be either funnels or smoke stacks, a satellite dish and some aerials and after was a glazed box roughly the size of four telephone boxes in a square. I could just make out the outline of a person inside it. There was a Black Labrador lying in a foetal position near the bow, its greying muzzle and docile nature telling me it was a senior dog. It mewled pathetically at my approach.
“Hello boy, or girl.” I said pausing by a gangplank that connected the boat, moored approximately three feet out into the water.
“Her name’s ‘Rosie’, just like this boat.” A prim-educated voice called from astern. I looked up to see a fifty-something woman (I was later to learn she’d just turned fifty-five), moving down the boat towards me. She was about my height with a ‘pear-shaped’ physique and an ample bosom, accentuated by a tight-fitting white t-shirt with an anchor and chain symbol emblazoned across the chest. Boot-cut jeans turned up at the ankles, a pair of cork flip-flops and a black leather Breton fisherman’s cap atop shirt red hair, completed the ensemble. She stopped beside the dog and I could see that she had a face that in her youth was probably quite attractive, though now it was somewhat weather-beaten and lined, with a small cluster of pale freckles on and around her nose and cheeks that had survived puberty.
“Hello Rosie.” I cooed at the dog.
“My name’s Angela by the way. Now let me guess, Thames River walker?” Angela stooped down and extended her hand. In order to take it I had to step up onto the boarding ramp.
“What gave me away?” I quipped back after a brief handshake. I stepped back onto the path, my ‘gaydar’ screaming ‘dyke’!
“Got much farther to go today?” Angela asked.
“I’m booked into the Taurus in town.” I replied.
“That’s my local. Most nights, weather-permitting I like to go there for a pint before bed. I might see you in there later.” She waved goodbye to me as I pressed on.
The Taurus Inn was a little way off the river, but not too far. A quaint little pub with a picture of the night sky and the constellation that bore its name on the sign outside. Inside it was a typical quaint, English country pub. There were a number of people already in there when I stepped in around 7.00 in the evening. Judging by their attire it was a mix of locals and tourists, mainly fellow Thames hikers. Music played in a juke box, a sound of a dozen or so conversations challenged the music box for noise. I nodded a few greetings whenever I made eye contact with patrons and walked to the bar.
“My name’s Linda – I booked a room here online.” I said to the Landlady, a short, rotund lady in her fifties with a mop of dark hair that looked like a bird’s next stuck on her head. She smiled at me and walked over to a where she’d left a clipboard with a computer print-out on it. She kept a pair of reading glasses on a long-chain and put them on. She consulted the list, muttering my name over and over.
“Oh dear.” She said.
“What, what is it?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.
“It’s these bloody computers, excuse my French.” She replied.
“The booking didn’t go through? Because I checked my accounts since making the booking and it went through. I even have a confirmation email.” I pulled out my smart phone and brought up the email in question.
“No, it’s a double-booking.” Explained the Landlady, sounding crest-fallen enough for both of us.
“I take it there’s no other room available?” I asked, already guessing the answer.
“I’m afraid not.” Was the reply. “However, we’ll obviously give you a full refund and a meal and a drink on the house, sky’s the limit. Whilst you can see about making alternative arrangements. There are other places to stay in town.”
I was left with little choice and after asking for a large glass of Merlot sat removed my backpack and sat at a nearby vacant table. I made myself comfortable and began scouring the internet on my phone. There were a number of other places to stay in town including Air BnBs, but no vacancies. I’d ordered a Pedigree beef lasagne with a side order of chunky chips and some mayonnaise. As I ate my dinner and drank the wine, I wondered where I would stay for the night. It looked like a campsite would be my best bet. Unless of course I could pull which, was after all Suzie’s original challenge. I looked around the tap room and didn’t immediately see any obvious candidates. It was as I finished my meal that Angela entered the pub as promised. She’d swapped the flip-flops for moccasins and added a denim jacket to her outfit and quite a bit of make-up such as eye-shadow and ruby-red lipstick. As she walked past I could smell some quite expensive perfume. Mutton dressed as lamb.
“Hello again, did you like the food? I can’t recommend it enough.” She said cheerfully quite unaware of my predicament.
“The food’s very nice. But their room booking system leaves much to be desired.” I replied despondently.
“Another double booking?” I overheard Angela ask the Landlady when she got to the bar. I didn’t hear the reply but I was soon joined by Angela brandishing a pint of ale and a medium-glass of Merlot.
“May I join you?” She asked as I swallowed the last morsel of my admittedly excellent meal.
“By all means.” Perhaps Angela knew somewhere to stay.
“You could always stay with me on my boat. There’s plenty of room. I’d be glad of the company. Rosie’s a wonderful dear, but as a dog, not a good conversationalist.”
“But, wouldn’t I be putting you out. I mean you don’t even know me.” As I said one thing, I thought the opposite. My ‘gaydar’ was spot on, I was sure of it, and I was pretty certain that conversation wasn’t the only thing she wanted out of me. It would explain the make-up and scent. The only thing missing was a sexy outfit, but that would have been too obvious.
“You can vouch for me not being an axe-murderer can’t you?” Angela called out rather theatrically over her shoulder at the Landlord & lady. They both nodded; doubtless relieved a solution to their problem had been found.
We made small talk with me outlining my hike (omitting the sexual aspect of it), and when she asked me, I told Angela how much I thought I had left to travel.
“That’s quite far you’ve come.” She agreed. We eventually finished our drinks and after a final round of apologies from my almost-hosts I hefted my backpack onto my shoulders and followed Angela out of the door and down the street, across a bridge and back along the Thames.
“I’m a lesbian.” She suddenly announced when it was just the two of us walking along the path towards her boat.
“Oh, I never would have guessed it.” I lied.
“I thought I’d better tell you.” She explained, though had I been a sweet innocent CIS girl, I wouldn’t have had a clue why she would feel compelled to tell me. Indeed it might have made me have second thoughts. My guess was she wanted me and was testing me for a reaction to see if she had a chance.
“Well I’m bi so I’m not one to judge.” I noticed from the corner of my eye, hers blaze momentarily. In her head she was probably fisting the hair in triumph.
“Best of all worlds. I used to think I was straight.” She remarked nonchalantly.
“What made you change your mind?” I asked.
“I found out my late husband was fucking his secretary and I found myself jealous, of him!” She replied.
“What happened to your husband?”
“He and his secretary were on a ‘business trip’ on the continent about seven years ago when they were involved in a fatal RTA. She survived and recovered and it turned out like you, she swung both ways. We had great, eye-opening fun helping each other through the grieving process. I bought Rosie with the sale of the house we lived in.”
We’d reached the barge by this point and mounted the gangplank. The dog Rosie was nowhere to be seen. Using a handle, Angela winched the gangplank so that it retracted slowly onto the deck.
“If you don’t want to spend the night with a fifty-five year-old dyke, this is your last chance to get off.” She grinned. I followed her down into the main cabin via a couple of sets of double doors which she shut and locked behind us. The doors were separated by a set of steps. Entering through the inner doors I was greeted by a large, open-plan space with pine wood panelling, varnished wood floors with a large Persian rug. There was a fully equipped kitchen containing; cooker, fridge-freezer, washer-dryer, cupboards, and a sink with a counter upon which was a toaster, kettle & microwave. Next came the combined living and sleeping area. There was a grey three-seater sofa that was L-shaped and a matching armchair with a tall, wide-brimmed reading-lamp beside and just behind it and a foot stool. The walls were covered with shelves, overflowing with books and on some kind of rail system was a home-entertainment centre that included a forty-inch LED flat-screen TV, set-top box and so forth. I guessed the rails were so that someone could watch the TV from either the sofa or a king-size double-bed that dominated the aft-section of the cabin. The mattress sat atop a set of drawers and at its feet was a large ‘treasure chest. Natural light came from a dozen nine-inch portholes, six per side and a large tent-shaped skylight. As I set my backpack down, Angela set about ‘securing’ the boat for the night ahead.
“Would you mind putting that on please?” She asked me, referring to the reading lamp. I did while she removed her cap and denim jacket, hanging them up on some pegs protruding from the wall opposite the kitchen and above a cage containing a sleeping Rosie. She walked to the bed and turned on a small lamp on bedside cabinets each side of the bed. She then stood on a footstool and grabbed a small ring-shaped handle in the ceiling and drew a metal sheet, much like a garage door across the skylight. It had been getting dark anyway, but the natural light was severely reduced. She climbed down off the stool and put it back where she found it. She then started closing the portholes with metal disc-shaped plates that were hinged, they were kept in place with butterfly catches. She did the four at the rear of the boat. Unbidden, I did the rest.
“There you are, snug as a bug in a rug.” Angela said addressing the boat.
It certainly looked a lot cosier with the three lamps on. They gave a warm glow around the place. There were other lights Linda noted including two long neon strip lights in the ceiling. She also saw four strategically-placed radiators. She wondered what it would be like on a winter’s night.
“I love this place. And with the portholes and skylight covered, you get privacy, even though you’re by the river.” I said enthusiastically.
“Thanks. It cost a lot. It also has under floor heating.” Angela still stood by the bed and as she spoke she pealed off her t-shirt and a plain pearl-coloured bra, exposing somewhat saggy boobs with large pink areolas & nipples, her shoes, jeans and a pair of pearl-coloured knickers. Her quim was quite hairy and when the time came to go down on her, my tongue was going to have to navigate a pubic assault course to sample her delights.
“You’re getting undressed, and it’s only just after 9.00!” I feigned a low level of alarm which I didn’t really feel I’d already decided I was going to fuck her if that’s what she wanted. Indeed although I found her quite unattractive, made-up as she was, I felt a rather perverse stirring at the thought of sleeping with her.
“But Linda, you do know I offered you a bed for the night for sex? I mean you are bi and from I can tell, I’d say this wouldn’t be your first rodeo.” I then started to undress. In a matter of minutes I was naked to and she held out her hand.
“I think I’d better use the loo first.” I said. She gestured to a door at the opposite end of the boat. I walked through into a wood-effect bathroom with both an old-style bath and a shower. I did both a number one and two and used her toothbrush to clean my teeth. I then stepped out into the main cabin and found her waiting on the bed in what she assumed was an attractive pose with one leg bent at the knee as if she was the subject of a nude. I moved to the bed and flopped onto it beside her.
“Careful, you don’t want to rock the boat.” She cooed. I smiled and for the next couple of minutes we rolled about on the enormous bed, play-wrestling and kissing. Yes, the prospect of this ‘old hag’ having her perverted way with me was a massive turn-on. My pussy was already damp with anticipation. The ‘wrestling phase’ ended when she pinned me down beneath her with her hands clasped around my wrists and proceeded to kiss me, her tongue pushing past my lips into my waiting mouth, my tongue doing likewise. Releasing my wrists she began moving down my body, planting kisses on it every step of the way. My neck was a sensitive area and I enjoyed her nibbling away at the area around my throat. She continued moving down and spent considerable time around my nipples, tickling them with her tongue. She was certainly pouring petrol on the flames as she essentially worshipped my body. Once more she continued her exploration of my body, moving down it slowly, and planting kisses all the time along my abdomen, though not my belly-button. She deliberately avoided my quim, contenting herself with merely lightly blowing on my hooded clit. Then came my legs and before I knew it she was turning me onto my stomach and the kissing continued up my back. When she turned me back onto my front again she kissed me hard on the lips again.
“Now, let’s have a look at pussy-willow here.” She said. Angela sat up on the bed and placed her right hand down between my legs and cupping it, began rubbing my clit and labia. The sensations were tremendous, she was really good at ‘Jilling’ someone. I guessed she had practice on herself and others. As she continued rubbing and my cunt got juicier and slimier she inserted her fore & index fingers in my vagina and rubbed my clit which had now emerged, erect from its hood with her thumb. The initial secretions of my pre-cum serving to lubricate and assist with her actions.
“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!” I rhythmically panted.
“Enjoying yourself?” I nodded.
“Close to cumming?” Again, I managed a nod.
“And what about now?” There was something about her tone of voice that telegraphed that she was about to do something. My instincts were dead on for a moment later, she brought her fingers into contact with my g-spot and I squirmed and shuddered on the bed.
“AHHHH!!!” I shrieked as I came, my hips bucking and thrashing about on the bed, joined by the rest of my body.
“Here, suck this, suck it dry.” She held her slimy, gleaming digits that had just given me such pleasure and I duly did as she asked. Licking them clean, tasting myself on my lips.
She lay down beside me, lying on her side and I rolled over to face me.
“Enjoy?” She asked. My reply took the form of a long, lingering kiss in which she must surely have tasted some of my juices. It was my turn I felt and I pushed her onto her back and began planting kisses on her body. Though not quite as smooth or supple as mine, it was not so worn. Like her I started kissing her neck, shoulders and breasts, followed by her abdomen. But unlike her, I stopped at her cunt and set to work on her clit with my tongue. I ran it over her clit, over and over, back and forth.
“Mmm!” She moaned, always a good sign. I continued working on her clit and its hood. Taking both in my mouth to suck on it as well as gliding the tip of my tongue across the mound. I applied all the techniques I’d picked up over the years in rug-munching and had enjoyed the opportunity to practice this past week on my travels. I shifted my body around so that I was half-on and half-off the bed, my head between her spread legs, tonguing her cunt. Her hands blindly sought out the back of my head and upon finding it they clamped on firmly and pressed my head down, almost threatening to stuff my head up her cunt. All I could do was lick her more intensely for the sooner she climaxed the sooner I’d be free from her hairy Mount of Venus. I licked away, lapping at her labia as well as her clit. I even stuck my tongue into her gash, bobbing my head up and down.
“This is great! Keeping licking my twat slut! Keep licking until madam tells you to stop!” She commanded, clearly getting carried away. I did as my ‘madam’ commanded, guided by her bodily responses and the grunts, gasps, groans and moans she made as I did so.
“That’s it slut, keep it up, don’t even take a breath, just get me off!”
“Yes Madam.” I stammered out as I managed to break momentary contact with her quim. Eventually, my efforts began paying off and with a succession of sharp breaths that had me worried that she was having a heart attack, she let fly with a shriek of her own as her body began convulsing and I got pelted in the face with warm, salty liquid which I hope was cum.
“YEEEAAAAAAA!!!!”
Silence reigned for a couple of minutes. Angela released my head and I slumped backwards until only my head and shoulders were on the bed.
“That took a lot out of me.” I said when I’d sufficiently recovered.
“I’m not surprised, what with all that hiking you’ve been doing with that pack on your back.” Angela replied. She helped me back on the bed and we spooned for a while. The would-be dominatrix of minutes earlier was now a tender lover. I asked her about that.
“Just dirty talk. I get carried away sometimes when I’m having fun.” She explained. She gently lifted my chin up and kissed me, softly on the lips, her tongue slowly entered my mouth. I responded in kind. When we broke the kiss. She swung her legs off the bed and made for the trunk at the end of it. I rolled over on my back and propped myself up by my elbows. By then the lid had been raised and I couldn’t see her.
“Close your eyes.” She commanded, “Don’t open them until I say so.” Intrigued I did as she asked and for good measure lay face down on the bed. Behind me I heard a slight squeaking noise followed by a click as the Angela closed the trunk and then the sound of the bathroom door opening.
“You can open them now.” She called from there as the door was closing. I did so and rolled back onto my back. A moment later Angela flung the bathroom door open and strode into the room.
“Ta-Dah!” She was wearing a black strap-on dildo, which was easily the biggest I’d seen in ‘the flesh’. It positively shone and glistened, even in the ambient lighting of the cabin. I estimated it to be around ten inches long to the hilt, maybe even eleven and had a slightly bigger girth than ‘Big Richard’. She walked to the bed and climbed on and began kissing me. I felt the rubberised plastic against my body as she lay next to me.
“May I?” I asked. She rolled onto her bag to let me examine it. It had a slight curve to it and was a faithful reproduction of the male organ, complete with all the ridges and indentations. A closer peak beneath the harness revealed it was a ‘couples’ strap-on meaning there was something to pleasure the wearer as well as the receiver. In this case a plate that rubbed against the wearer’s clit.
“So, are you up for it?” Angela asked. Was I ever?
“Bring it on.” I said enthusiastically. I lay back and spread my legs. Meanwhile Angela leaned over me and reached for the top drawer of the bedside cabinet on the right-hand side of the bed. She extracted a bottle of bottled and the dong was soon drenched in lube, as was my pussy.
“Too much?” She asked.
“One way to find out.” I said.
Angela smiled broadly and hunched over me, one hand bracing herself against the mattress, the other grasping the dildo’s hilt. I could feel the fake glans pressing against my lubed-up pussy lips and then Angela lurched forward and the dildo effortlessly slid inside me. It felt good to say the least and I gasped audibly, loudly in seventh heaven. A smile quickly appeared on my face and Angela kissed me, though a little harder and with less tenderness.
“Alright bitch, are you ready for this monster fucking I’m going to give you?” ‘Mistress’ was obviously back.
“Yes Ma’am.” I said, positively drooling. Angela then began thrusting in and out of me with real gusto. I was soon gasping and groaning as she did so and the headboard began banging against the bulkhead.
“Fell free to make as much noise as you like. With the portholes and skylight closed and covered, very little sound escapes here. So come on bitch, lets hear you scream.
“Ohhh yes! Oh yes! Ahhh! Ahhh! Oooo! Fuck me hard Ma’am! I’ve been a very naughty bitch, very naughty indeed!” She loved the mixture of noises and dirty talk that spilled like a babbling brook from my mouth. This certainly had a stimulating effect on Angela who began fucking me even harder and deeper. For her part, she too was groaning and grunting from her clit being rubbed every time she made a thrust. Her head was tilted up, which essentially went forward and like mine her face was a grimace, sweat pouring of it from her exertions, her eyes practically closed.
“Mmm! Oooo! Ahhh! Take it – Ohhh – bitch-whore! Take it!” For my part the tingly sensations were incredible and if I’d not been pinned under Angela, I would surely have shimmied and wriggled my way off the bed and onto the floor. I also began pushing back against Angela’s thrusts, which impacted both what I was feeling, and clearly Angela who’s gasps were increasing and based on her initial climax of the evening, she was close, much closer than me.
“AHHH SHIT YEAHHH!” She squealed and shuddered above me. And then, nothing, no more thrusting. Moments away from my own climax, the selfish old dyke had stopped.
“You haven’t cum yet, eh?” She asked.
“No, ma’am.” I admitted.
“Would you like me to finish you off with this?” She was referring to the dong.
“Yes, please madam. I want you to make me cum again with that big black cock of yours.” With a cruel smile she resumed thrusting, slowly at first, in part because her clit was apparently still sensitive from her own clitoral climax, but she soon quickened her pace again and got me to the edge.
“OOO! YES! I’M CUMMING! I’M CUMMING! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!” The orgasm was positively wrung out of me by Angela and her monster latex prick. As I began to come down from my climax Angela withdrew and fell onto the bed beside me.
“Phew. I didn’t think I had it in me.” She turned to face me once more, “If I still smoked I’d light one up about now.” She added. We both grinned and had a great kiss. The evening didn’t end there. Not long afterwards I used the dildo on her and had two clitoral orgasms to her single combined vaginal & clitoral one and after we both used our mouths and tongues to luck our combined juices from the dong. The night finally ended with a sixty-nine before we both douched ourselves thoroughly in the bathroom and fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.
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