It could be fairly minor but it’s not the first report of its kind on the night of the full moon. A passing fishing boat had docked on the island the previous evening and the concerned fisherman was sure that he heard the screams of a woman from within the hotel. Telephones ring and, eventually, a detective constable is sent out to the Emerald City on the morning launch.
DC Laura Lewis thinks the assignment is waste of time. But her curiosity about the hotel and the rumours she’s heard make this investigation more interesting than it would otherwise be. Plus, there’s not much crime in Ellismere Valley so they have the manpower to spare, and it’s a free ride across the lakes on a sunny Thursday morning, so she grins and bears it and enjoys the trip across the water. The mountains on the lakeshore are green and fertile like lush, fecund women waiting to be impregnated, and hosts of golden daffodils stream down the verdant slopes and kiss the water’s edge
Two hikers wave from the hilltop as the launch glides by, its wake softly slap-slapping the edges of the shoreline. “Bloody tourists,” thinks Detective Laura, bored with the great outdoors already, and alighting gratefully at the jetty as the launch pulls in at the resort.
Laura was finding the whole visit a waste of time and she’d seen nothing to confirm or deny the rumours of domanatrixes and cavorting naked women, delirious with sexual desire. The staff were pleasant enough, they had given her coffee and shown her around the facilities. Laura asks a few questions and then interviews a few longer-term guests. She queries what they know about the underground hot springs, but these guests have rooms upstairs, and they only use the baths during the day. Last night they all slept soundly and heard nothing. Some guests, with rooms nearer the baths, tell conflicting stories as to when the baths are and aren’t open, while offering disjointed suggestions to explain away the noises. But they are all quite keen for DC Lewis to understand that the Lakeshore Resort and Spa for Women is a very fine, professional and therapeutic establishment. Of course no one ever touches upon the ecstasy of the hunter’s moon, nor the night witch who, with her enchanting touch and powerful talismans, has brought forth screams from many women here. The detective casts her eyes heavenwards, unsure how any of this can be put into her report. So the hotel manager, who knows nothing of these subterranean nocturnal activities, suggests that she speak with the night staff instead. There were two on duty. One has finished her shift and returned to Windermere on the early launch, but Gilinda is still here, and the hotel manager is sure she can help.
Detective Laura is shown into the staff lounge where Gilinda awaits her. Their eyes meet across the crowded room and lock.
Dyke, thinks Gilinda.
“Lesbian,” mutters the policewoman.
They pace the room and eye each other like pit bulls.
In the daylight Gilinda’s eyes are wary like a tiger’s. All the better to eat you up, my dear, she thinks, offering a hand to the other woman.
“Detective Lewis? I’m Gilinda Gale. How can I help you?”
By letting me lick your tight muscular cunt, Laura thinks, looking her up and down. But out loud she contents herself with asking for details of the night’s incident.
Gilinda knows all about reports and, with a few explanations that tiptoe around the truth of why the women really come to stay near the baths, the matter is wrapped up within minutes. Wildlife abounds beyond the walls of the resort, and Gilinda is certain that there must have been some mating foxes that sounded like people screaming. No outsider can have gained entry, the resort is locked up tight at night and the launch departs at 10:30. Case closed.
Gilinda’s tiger eyes taunt the other woman, daring her to make a pass, but Laura plays it cool knowing that Gilinda is off duty and that they’ll ride back to Ellismere Valley in the launch together. Plenty of time to pop the question then.
Gilinda is sure the cop isn’t going to take the bait as the boat docks, so she makes the first move herself.
“Coffee?” she suggests, indicating the Golden Daffodil Tearoom with a movement of her head.
“On duty,” Laura replies, curtly, making her beg. “Come to dinner tonight instead. My place, above the Lord Byron, you can’t miss it.”
Oh, smooth, very smooth, thinks Gilinda, her animal eyes glinting pebble green as the late afternoon sky streaks pink and gold. “It’s a date,” she smiles.
“Tonight at eight,” says the other, lips full of promise.
Detective Laura is a luscious woman in her early thirties, with natural platinum blonde hair and heavy white breasts. Her hips are large and inviting, her full ass is a dream, and many a cop on the force has dreamed of laying her over the sergeant’s desk, pulling her panties over and off those broad hills, and salivating at the choice of wet pink orifices to violate.
She’s dressed tonight in an old pair of jeans and a faded boy-band T-shirt that belongs in the trash; the ensemble completed with a shapeless hand-knitted cardigan and fluffy slipper socks.
Someone’s not making any effort to get laid tonight, Gilinda thinks as her host takes her coat, but lingers long enough to inhale her bouquet.
Out of uniform Gilinda favours black. Tight black denim jeans like a second skin, a black cashmere turtleneck. She’s been to the hairdresser’s since Laura saw her last and her close-cropped locks are sharp like a razor. She gives Laura her black Armani coat, kicks off her high heels and sinks onto the untidy sofa. Ball’s in your court, WPC Sadie Stick.
But Laura still wants to play cat and mouse. She doesn’t slide into the depths of the sofa nor into the snare of Gilinda’s net, but offers dinner instead. It’s hardly seduction food – organic shepherd’s pie from the freezer and oven chips – but there’s plenty of wine and the two women relax and eventually touch hands over biscotti and canned peaches.
There’s a moment in all new encounters when one partner makes the move that hurls caution to the winds and sends them both tumbling over the precipice of the Reichenbach Falls. Detective Laura makes it now.
“How long?” she asks quietly, her warm wide hand covering Gilinda’s slim and stealthy one.
“How long what?” Gilinda counters, but she feels a warm rush in her cunt. The policewoman is finally making a play for her.
Laura strokes her hand thoughtfully before replying and Gilinda’s pussy turns to mush. She wants to fuck this cautious blonde so badly that it hurts. “How long have you been gay?”
“All my life,” Gilinda says. “Now that I think about it. You?”
“The same, pretty much.”
They look at each other for a long moment then Gilinda reaches over the table and kisses her, Laura’s mouth soft and full, responding eagerly in kind. Gilinda has seen movies where lovers sweep dishes off tables to possess the objects of their desires, and she doesn’t think that Laura’s Tesco tableware will be any loss, but the other forestalls her with a whisper.
“Take me to bed and fuck me hard…”
Laura has Gilinda’s fitted cashmere sweater off before they’re even through the doorway and pushes her down onto the unmade bed. There’s a small child’s lamp burning in here that throws moving shadows of ducks and teddy bears onto the ceiling, and the room is heady with the scent of Laura’s perfume. They kiss again, holding each other tightly this time, Gilinda’s taut upper torso nearly naked, Laura still dressed. Gilinda’s kiss is sharp and incisive, Laura’s hot and soft, and she opens her mouth easily to let the inquisitive tongue go where it pleases. Finding the catch on Gilinda’s bra, Laura makes a satisfied noise and the insubstantial garment falls noiselessly to the floor like an autumn leaf.
They come up for air and Laura is breathing heavily, Gilinda still implacable. Inflamed, the policewoman pulls open the stud on her lover’s jeans and peels them down, taking her tiny black panties with them as they go, gasping as she sees Gilinda’s glossy waxed pussy for the first time, its tight slit secret and inviting. Gilinda, who normally likes to take control, delights in being naked in front of this fully clad ample woman, and steps provocatively out of her jeans.
They kiss again, Laura’s hands everywhere, feeling Gilinda’s modest tits with their big stubby nipples, raised up like gumdrops aching to be tasted; her tight ass crack and bare but very secretive cunt.
“Strip me,” Laura pants into her lover’s ear. “Strip me naked and fuck me with your slippery tongue, eat my big sweet pussy, push your fingers into my hot, smooth ass.”
Gilinda smiles and acquiesces, the scent of her pussy betraying her calm exterior, and pulls the old T-shirt over Laura’s head. The detective’s tits are massive – like something out of an old 1950’s under-the-counter magazine – in their big heavily under-wired bra. Gilinda wants to bury her head in them but she restrains herself. Instead she undoes Laura’s jeans, pale blue denim supermarket budget brand, and peels them off, surveying the other in her bra and matching white wide panties.
Laura’s big breasts are rising and falling with arousal, the nut-hard nipples visible even through the sling-like bra, and her round white tummy above the waistband of her panties is like a quivering blancmange. Gilinda runs her fingernail down the smooth convex belly and likes the way her victim shivers. She toys with the elastic on the panties and stretches it out, looking down at the delights inside.
Laura’s pussy is beautiful; white-blonde fur covering her big, full mound; lips pink and full and obvious even nestled in her panties. Gilinda touches those inviting lips and is lost. She rips the cotton panties away and throws her lover on the bed, her tongue burying itself in Laura’s sweet and honeyed slit, parting the thick soft lips easily like ripe tropical fruit and feasting on the sticky hard almond of her clit until the other screams out in ecstasy.
Laura’s still not naked and she slips impatiently out of her big Triumph Doreen bra and pulls Gilinda into her arms. Unleashed, her breasts are big and creamy white, the areoles of the palest pink. Laura is lying on the bed, her cunt still throbbing from the manipulations lashed upon it by Gilinda’s tongue, and she tucks her hands contentedly behind her head as Gilinda suckles a perfectly effortless rhythm of pleasure and pain on her pleading nipples.
“I love your fur,” Gilinda says adoringly, forgetting her good manners and speaking with her mouth full of nipple, eyeing the thick gold down crowning Laura’s pussy. “I love how it feels…on my fingers…on my lips…”
“I aim to please,” Laura replies, wriggling as Gilinda’s expert fingers pet their way back inside her hot wet crack for a moment. “Come and lie beside me while you play with me, I want to explore that tight little cunt of yours too.”
Gilinda considered for a moment before moulding her body to the bigger one beside her, her lips meeting Laura’s as they laid their heads together on the pillow. But, though Gilinda pressed her smooth cleft into Laura’s anxious hand, Gilinda would not part her legs. Instinct prevented the detective from trying to enter the other’s cunt straight away, and she stroked her from the outside instead, aware of Gilinda’s big clit just aching to burst into the open as she teased and squeezed.
Laura sighed contentedly and parted her broad white thighs, vast like frozen Arctic oceans, and gave herself up to Gilinda’s touch. Her plump cunt was limitless and heavy, a delicious ruby fruit jungle, her hot pink lips exposed and fleshy like marzipan roses on a particularly delicious wedding cake. She was soaking wet and slippery, like filo pastry drenched in syrup, and Gilinda’s fingers explored every crevice, teasing and touching before finally starting to circle her stiff clit, sticking out vulnerably from beyond its protective hood and desperate for fulfilment.
“Fuck….you know how to touch a girl,” the big detective groaned as Gilinda’s fingers began to flick up and down her stiff girl-cock in earnest. “And you’ve certainly served your apprenticeship in pussy pleasing. Tell me, am I the latest notch on your bedpost?”
“Not if you don’t want to be,” Gilinda moaned, opening herself up a little down below. Her little glossy cunt had been shut tight like a walnut, but Laura’s non-intrusive attention was working its magic. She relaxed and let the other girl guide a tentative finger along her sopping wet crack.
Laura looked down as she gently parted Gilinda’a legs and cautiously eased her pussy lips apart. Gilinda’s cunt was strawberry pink inside, with layers and layers of tight crinkly lips like a new flower, and a huge clit that poked up, all naked and aroused, slick with slippery juices and aching to be stroked.
Laura’s own cunt was hurting with pleasure and, knowing she couldn’t last long, she pushed Gilinda’s fingers deep into the pleading hole, working her monster clitoris hard and rough so that her lover’s orgasm would coincide with her own.
Gilinda started to moan and then shout, months of inner calm and repression peeling away as she finally allowed herself to climax. Laura never entered her, and yet she brought Gilinda to orgasm again and again, her whole body thrusting and bucking like a rodeo pony as Laura finally slipped over the edge herself, her big cunt squirting spendings as she came loudly and obscenely, screaming, “Fuck me…fuck me…Fuck….FUCK!!” and thrashed about the big untidy bed, Gilinda’s hungry mouth on her neck, sucking and biting, Laura’s own nails digging into Gilinda’s gyrating muscular back.
“I think I love you,” Gilinda gasped as she flopped down, exhausted, on Laura’s expansive, matronly body as she lay panting, her breasts heaving like glorious bellows. “I want to love you for the rest of my life…”
But Laura pretended not to hear.