Winter’s Tale
3: Third night — First time
We were woken by Father as our nocturnal adventures had resulted in, by our standards, a late start for our chores. If secret assignations with Layla were going to become regular events, as we hoped, we were going to need a plan to recover our sleep during the day. While we were kept busy most days, we had enough leeway so one of us could nap while the other covered for them. The deception implicit in this new routine was abnormal for us, but we dismissed any such concerns on the grounds it was simply and selfishly worthwhile. Come nightfall, it was usual for us to stay up later than our parents and our bedchamber was at the opposite end of the cabin from theirs, so slipping away was relatively straightforward.
If she turned up, which in our minds was still far from certain, this would be only our third night together, but Layla had already cemented herself as the centre of our world. She was all we talked about in private. We fantasised about seeing the world with her, whether we were her girlfriends, if we were in love or simply attracted to her, and how it was all happening so fast. I ventured that perhaps this was why people referred to it as falling in love, because of how sudden it was and how hard it struck. My analogy irked Summer who pointed out this was a far happier experience than when she fell from that tree a few years back.
It was also quite clear that we felt no jealousy for sharing Layla. Some years back Summer had been the first of us to kiss a boy and it had really upset me, irrationally so. I had once thought I was not prone to jealousy, but I got my first taste of it when she kissed Evan, the cooper’s son, and told me about it later. I was properly angry and said some things that needed time to remedy. With Layla, however, we could detect not even a twinge of covetousness between us. Was it because we were romancing her together, was it because we were building affection for a woman, was it because Layla was unique? We talked it over at length but came to no conclusions.
We agreed, however, that we both lusted for her. We wanted her to be our first but had no real idea how to make that happen. Obviously, we knew how to pleasure ourselves and while we could do that for her, we both selfishly wanted her to pleasure us much more than wondering what we could do for her. That did not seem very fair, but it was an urge we both felt, and it was as strong as a gale moving across the forest. One of our favourite views was from atop the waterfall that took in most of the valley and, when the wind picked up, the canopy of the trees swayed like grass, incessant, beguiling. Like our desire for her touch us.
When we crept from the house that night, on the walk to the fallen tree, we bolstered each other’s courage trying to come up with ways to approach the subject of our lust and placate our fears that she might not want to lay with us. It occupied us more usefully than fretting that she might not be there.
Our clumsily assembled stratagems evaporated as soon as we saw her. She was leaning against the trunk of the dead tree in yet another dress, it was more rustic than her usual attire and more revealing. She had replaced almost all her gold jewellery with silver items, save the two rings with the red stones she bore on each hand. She still wore that scarlet scarf, though arranged differently, tied tight about her head, so her hair formed two waterfalls of snow cascading from behind her ears down her chest.
Doubts about our relationship had buzzed like irritating flies all day, but they were chased away by the sight of her. She took our breath away. I took Summer’s hand and we approached.
“You look lovely,” Summer said. “It is so good to see you.”
“You are beautiful,” I added. “Thank you for coming.”
“Why thank you for the compliments. The two of you are a vision. A living mirror of beauty. You make my heartbeat faster,” Layla replied, making our hearts do exactly that.
“You kept our pledge?” she asked.
“To our secret bond I pledge myself,” Summer and I said spontaneously in unison, causing Layla’s lips to curl into a warm smile.
She took our free hands, hers were cold as usual, and replied, “To our secret bond I pledge myself.” This drew smiles of relief from us. Our bond was affirmed and for a moment any concerns about what that bond entailed mattered less than a phantom’s shadow. It crossed my mind that we were forging that bond every time we met, driving it deeper into our hearts. We could carry on discovering everything the bond meant to us for years to come, perhaps for the rest of our lives. I certainly hoped so.
Layla kissed our cheeks, lips as cool as her hands. She must have been waiting a while in the night air.
I wanted to scream, “Fuck us!” but I had no courage for it, too afraid my immodesty would repulse her. Instead, I said, “You are so cold. Are you warm enough? You can have my shawl if you would like.”
“It does not bother you that I am always cold. Does it,” Layla said with irritation, sweeping her gaze from me to Summer and back. Her tone was deep and implied more of a statement than a question.
“If it does not bother you then it does not bother me. Please forgive me, I only wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” I pleaded, a little distressed I had upset her.
“You keep mentioning it. Yes, my hands are always cool. It is just who I am, and I would appreciate you not bringing it up again as if it were some defect,” Layla snipped, then softened. “It matters not. I am overreacting. Do my cold hands disturb you?”
“No, no,” I assured her, which was true. I was not sure why I had brought it up.
“No, not at all,” Summer said. “Your hands always feel lovely.”
“We like the way they feel,” I said, sensing an opportunity. “We like it when you touch us. We like touching you.”
With that Layla cradled our cheeks and the coolness did indeed feel lovely. I closed my eyes to focus on the pressure of her touch, leant into it and placed my hand over hers to hold it in place. When I opened my eyes, I saw Summer had done the same.
“Do you like touching us?” Summer gently asked.
“Greatly,” Layla answered. “It brings me rare pleasure. I am blessed to have two such alluring ladies within reach.”
We eagerly accepted her silver-tongued flattery. It was surprising how her speak so fondly of us seemed more than pleasing, it was important. I almost craved her approval. Summer raised her free hand to stroke the back of it across Layla’s cheek, making her quietly gasp. I followed suit, winning a second husky inhalation. We wanted to press the advance, but Layla had other ideas. She released us and stepped back. It was frustrating but it would have been churlish to be upset. She was behaving with greater decorum than we could muster, which shamed me, but I was quickly placated by the kindness of her words.
“I am the luckiest woman in the kingdom to have found two such beauties. Would you show me your forest? I would love to see the secrets only you know,” she explained.
“Of course. What should we show her?” Summer wondered aloud to me. After our conversation earlier in the day there seemed an obvious choice.
“Waterfall,” I stated. Summer enthusiastically nodded.
“Oh yes. You will love the view,” Summer eagerly explained, taking Layla’s hand, pulling her along as we set off. “But you have no lantern. Much of the way is under dense trees. Will you be all right walking in darkness?”
“I see well enough in low light, and know a little magic to find my way,” Layla confessed.
“You know magic?” Summer almost shrieked. What an exciting new secret to learn about our friend. “What can you do?”
“Well, I can see in the dark as well as day,” she explained. “Among other things.”
“You must show us,” I implored. “Can you show us something? Anything?”
“Perhaps I shall. But you must show me this view first,” Layla replied. We could barely wait to see what she was capable of. Magicians were exceedingly rare we had never imagined she might be one. Aside from the elven charms Mother knew, the closest we came to magic was on those years when the fayre drew a wandering conjurer, making trinkets appear and disappear or filling the air with pretty sparks for coin. Simple tricks we had been told by our father, but they had filled us with wonder at an early age. Perhaps Layla was a real wizard from one of the fabled towers. We were desperate to know more but she deflected any attempt in inquiry as we walked through the forest holding hands.
Conversation came so easily with Layla. We were all so comfortable in each other’s company it was like we had gained another sister. She showed such fascination for the minutiae of our peasant lives it made us feel important in a way no one else ever had before. The fact remained we knew very little about her. Oh, she was regularly forthcoming about the many, many places she had visited, painting vivid portraits in our minds of the sights, sounds and even smells of them, but she never discussed where she came from nor who her family were. We were alert enough to note her deflections, but the recounting of her travels was like reading a fabulous tale. It would have been churlish to press her on subjects she did not wish to discuss when what she was offering fired our desire, imagination and ambition so comprehensively.
Within the hour, we came to the waterfall. The pool it plunged into was not especially large, nor was the waterfall particularly high, perhaps thirty feet or so, but, as the only family who lived at this end of the valley, we felt it was ours. In summers past we had spent countless hours here.
“It’s delightful, thank you for showing it to me,” Layla offered politely as we stood at the edge of our beloved pool, sincerity laced into her voice, appreciation filled her eyes. Her warm smile swung from Summer to me as she took in the little moonlit mere. I marvelled at how her smile transformed her face. As handsome as she was, her resting face could look a little severe, but a simple smile amplified her beauty. I found myself devoting idle thought to ways I might make her smile again.
“We love it dearly. We learned to swim here,” Summer explained, “but there is another view we want to show you.”
Tugging on her arms, we dragged Layla, like excited children to our secret path to the top of the waterfall. Part scramble, part climb, it was not an easy path, but it was not far, and we knew every step after years of practice. Our pact-sister proved to be an agile and strong climber, needing no assistance, even at the points we always found tricky. It was a pleasure to watch her assured movements and confident grip. She was not particularly muscular but demonstrated great strength and agility as she ascended.
I found the climb harder than usual because I struggled to take my eyes off her lithe body in motion. I silently urged myself to focus and only then noticed Summer was similarly distracted. Everything our friend did, every movement, every gesture, every utterance was fascinating to us and increasingly so. Was this love? Father once described falling in love with Mother as like being placed under a spell. Since then, we had hoped to know how it would feel to be so enchanted. Every moment I was with Layla was beginning to feel like magic and I wanted more.
Distracted as we were, Layla was the first to reach the ledge and by the time we crested it she had her back to us, gazing across the valley, standing so silent and still she might as well have been carved from stone. The vantage was above the treetops of most of the valley which, under the moonlight, looked like the undulating fur of some vast animal’s hide. We stood behind her, nervously brimming with hope and expectation, eager for her approval. She turned to us, white hair silvered under the moon, a look of wonder and incredulity written across her face as she swept her upturned hand across the view, silently beseeching us to observe its beauty. It was at that very instant I knew I loved her.
“It is so beautiful. Thank you. Well worth the climb,” she had to raise her voice over the din of the waterfall. “This, this is what I see in you. A pure appreciation of such simple wonders. I knew it was in your hearts and you have reminded me of it in mine. But that said, if you will forgive me, I find the two of you more enchanting.”
Though it was obvious flattery it melted our hearts. Young and naïve, we were defenceless against her seductive skills. We darted to her, embraced and alternated kisses upon her lips.
“We love you,” Summer said, and my heart flared with delight that we were of one mind.
“We do,” I confirmed, my desire boiling within me. Was now the moment? I decided it was. “We want you,” I impulsively blurted, unsure if I was being brave or merely desperate.
“It is true. We want you to be our first. Do you want us?” Summer asked, her voice held the confidence I felt mine lacked. She ran a hand through her hair, preening for Layla who stood there, thoughtful but impassive.
“Take us,” I begged. Oh, by the goddess, that was desperate. “If you would like to,” I added, struggling to control my lust.
“Please,” Summer said, her head tilted to one side.
Layla placed her hands firmly upon our chests and I felt blessed by her touch. I was possessed by the notion that I wanted her to take my heart, to claim it, to make me vow to be hers. I considered all manner of inappropriate proposals I would never have dreamed of three days ago.
“My dears,” she paused trying to collect her thoughts. Summer and I hung on her words. My pulse thumped under her hand. “You know me, both of you. You know my heart. I can hide nothing from you. I have never known such a connection with another person, let alone two, that has crystalised within my heart so perfectly in all my years and travels. I am powerless before your beauty, before your spirit. You are perfect.”
She paused and I began to wonder if a caveat was coming. It did.
“I mean no disrespect, yet you know little of love. I know how an infatuation can oftentimes sour once it has been sated. Yet I also know the difference between an infatuation and what I feel for you and that,” she pressed a little harder on our chests, “I can promise you is real. The potent and wonderful feelings I have for you will remain as resolute in my heart forever. But I cannot take advantage of two so young. You have never been known by a man, have you?”
“No,” we said in unison.
“We have never lain with another,” Summer said, trying to be suggestive.
“We never even wanted a woman before you. You are different. You have changed everything and now this is what we want. We want only one person. One woman. You,” I added sincerely, my heart finally wrestled control of my tongue from my lust.
“Thank you, Winter. Bless your kindness, but you should have the chance to explore men before I show you the life I lead,” she suggested, but her voice lacked conviction. “If I took you, much about you may be forever changed, and I cannot risk compromising you in any way. I would never wish to jeopardise the wonderful people you are nor the precious bond we have.”
“You will not jeopardise anything. We swear,” Summer stated. “There has never been a man in all our years who made us feel this way. We know what we want. We want you.”
“We are of one mind in this,” I affirmed. “You are the most beautiful, fascinating person we have ever seen. We are bound to our pact. Nothing could ever make us foresworn. We want you.”
“And you are of age?” Layla asked, yielding a fraction.
“Our coming of age was last solstice,” I replied with a little pride.
“We can choose whomever we please, and we choose you, Layla,” Summer persisted.
“We want you to show us the world, Layla. We want to see it with you,” I stated. I had rehearsed that in my head many times earlier that day. My hope had been I would say it in some tender fashion, but the background din of the waterfall meant I had to commit more volume than could be considered romantic. Layla smiled nonetheless, understanding my intentions, and I felt a leap of delight at pleasing her.
“And I want nothing more than to show it to both of you,” said Layla. “But your first time is important. It is your maidenhead. You only get to give it once. When I gave mine, it changed me and made me what I am. You say you want me, and I believe you, but you have no basis for comparison. The world is vast. Do not be in such a rush to give away your most personal of gifts. Mark me, I would be honoured to take them, cherish them, and in time if you so wish I will, but you must be sure and only time can tell that.”
My gut clenched. I wanted Layla. Why did she resist? Perhaps I could not be as sure of my love as I claimed, but I was adamant in my lust. I had never been more certain of anything. How could she deny us? Had I only seen what I wanted in her words, her actions, and did she not feel as deeply for us as we did for her? I glanced to Summer and saw my thoughts reflected, so I gave her my look that insisted she did something.
“Perhaps what you say is true,” Summer conceded, covering Layla’s hand with her own as it lay on her chest. “I truth, we know little of love nor of the world beyond our valley. But what we feel for you has only grown, day and night. It dwarfs anything we have ever felt. If it is not love, then trust it is absolute desire. We are sure of it. We feel our bond. We are all pledged to it. We do not need to know where it will end to be certain we wish to follow wherever it leads.”
“Right now, you are our path. We want you. Please, do not pretend our feelings are not sincere. That wounds us,” I clasped my hand about Layla’s on my chest, my irritation undisguised. Our bond was irresistible and growing stronger with each moment Layla denied us. What was happening to me? I wanted her so much I could barely control myself. It was only modesty that held me back from thrusting Layla’s hand into my quim and screaming in her face that I wanted her to fuck me.
“Oh, my sweet Winter, I completely believe you, do not misunderstand,” Layla replied, which was a relief to hear. “I cherish you, but as the experienced person in our pact I do not want to risk affecting our friendship by making our relationship sexual so soon. Trust me, it changes things in ways one cannot necessarily foresee. It—”
“We are willing to take that risk. We think you are perfect in every way and this bond we share grips us like a titan. We want you to take us,” Summer interrupted, as she interlaced her fingers with Layla’s to drag their hands over her breast and squeezed. I swiftly followed suit, discovering how hard my nipple had become as I guided her hands back and forth across it, relishing the pleasure it brought. Layla did not resist. Her eyes followed the motion. Her lips parted and the spark of desire ignited her face.
“This is what you want, Summer,” she said, lifting her gaze to stare deeply into my sister’s eyes.
“Yes,” she replied, an eager, feverish fervour in her tone. “This and so much more.”
“This is what you want, Winter,” she said, sweeping her lovely eyes to mine and I knew it was true. I wanted this more than anything in my entire life. I had to give myself to her. I could think of nothing else. I desired nothing else. There was nothing else
“Yes,” I shouted my affirmation into Layla’s perfect face, bellowing into the night. “I want you. I want you to touch us, take us, fuck us.”
Though I spoke my truth it came with a sudden shame at my wanton words. Layla’s alluring eyes had an icy intensity, then that same profound desire from the previous night manifested deep within them, so deep it swept away all doubt and nearly buckled my knees.
“Then I shall take you both as one,” she said. We groaned our approval and felt her shifting the force of her hands beneath our own, taking charge of the movement to knead our flesh, not too hard, but firmly, wonderfully.
“As one,” we said together. I had no idea precisely what that meant, but I was dying to find out. I was burning with want and need. Somehow, I knew only this would quench that tortuous fire, that it would complete me. Our friend would become our lover.
As we leaned in to caress her body and envelop her with kisses, I lost myself in the moment. All this was happening so fast, yet it felt like I had been waiting for it all my life. Now the moment was finally here, it was empowering, a more important step to becoming an adult than our coming-of-age ceremony. When Layla had shown reservations, we had persuaded her to serve us. We had a taste of real power in this relationship, no matter how more experienced she was than us, which was intoxicating.
Now her hands were all over us, like they already knew exactly where and how we wished to be touched, fulfilling our every whim. Most remarkable was how she balanced her attention, drifting between us with perfect timing, making it impossible to feel her attention was divided.
Our paramour had an array of kisses to deploy, varying approach, frequency and intensity in sympathy with our responses. Her expertise was obvious, impressive, and an education. Each increasing liberty she took with us was a welcome and natural progression.
With gentle pressure she guided us both backwards, away from the din of the waterfall. Step after step, we never took our eyes off her, trusting in her direction. Soon, my heel pressed against rock and still Layla remained our only focus as we let her push us off-balance to lean against a slanting mossy boulder. Side by side, Summer and I exchanged a quick nod, and hoisted our skirts out of the way to expose ourselves to the chill light of the waning moon. So sure of our purpose, we had dispensed with our undergarments before leaving the cabin. Now we could scent our own arousal on the still night air. Layla stepped back and crouched to examine us, nodding her appreciation, eyes full of hunger. I found it surprisingly stimulating to be inspected. A thrill danced the length of my spine when she briefly licked her lip.
We offered Layla our hands to help her up and then gingerly guided her to our sex. Her cool fingers were gentle and luxuriously slow, but I was so ready, so eager for her touch, I almost wept.
Indulging our penchant for acting as one, Layla took us in that fashion, working us both with identical strokes, deftly coaxing shudders of pleasure from us. I was already slick, making progress easy, but she took her time. I felt the knuckle half-way down her finger nudging inside me, working insistently. Then it pulled out, slowly circled, preparing me, before a fingertip stroked apart my folds to send wild flurries of euphoria through me. We tried to keep our eyes fixed on Layla, but as she expertly built gratifying layer upon layer of carnality within us, it made it almost impossible to maintain focus.
“Very good, my dears. Surrender to this. Surrender to me,” she demanded as I briefly struggled to understand how she could form words, momentarily confused about where I ended and she began. Our speech evanesced, so all we could manage were grunts of assent as our ecstasies bloomed.
I fumbled for Summer’s hand, found it and held tight, while my other hand took comfort in squeezing the soft bed of moss pressed against our backs. Layla’s finger plunged into me, into us, burrowing, curling, spiralling deeper. Her thumb skimmed my clitoris and I marvelled at her instincts as she applied the perfect amount of pressure. Each pass suggested I was being played like an instrument rising ever higher in pitch.
When I could force my eyes open between the peaks of sensation, I glimpsed Layla swinging her stare between us. What had she asked us to do? Surrender. To this? How could we not? Then the thought of surrendering to her made the heat of the moment intolerable. Intense shudders arched my back. The wet smacking sounds of her fingers driving into us grew louder as she brought us to the edge. We came hard.
Everything flashed white as our legs buckled, yet our lover held us both up with remarkable strength. Somehow, she took our weight on each hand while impossibly maintaining the delicacy of her touch as she dextrously slid a second finger inside us, so she could keep going. Bestial cries escaped our throats into the night, merging with the roar of the waterfall below.
We knew how to pleasure ourselves, of course, well enough to know how glorious this orgasm was. Our private name for it was rapture. I know how naïve this makes us sound but we had never done so more than once at a time. We had always found it so intense we had never sought to continue. Foolish, I now realised. Layla’s attentions were relentless, something we were unprepared for, but she was not simply hammering away at us, her fine control of tempo rode the rhythms of our bodies. She was making tiny adjustments to tune into our pleasure, all the better to wring greater ecstasies from us.
I wanted her to stop, just for a moment, to catch my breath but could not form words, I could barely form thoughts. My head kept rocking back as spasms gripped the length of my spine. Perhaps it appeared I was nodding my approval? I would never know. My body thrashed about on her hand clamped to my cunt and all I could do was grip Summer’s hand, reading her pleasure matched with my own. We had no choice but to surrender to our lover’s masterful control. Our hips bucked as a second rapture twisted our bodies and momentarily blinded us with another wave of white.
In fleeting glimpses, I caught Layla’s gaze, switching faster and faster between us, brow furrowed, scowling with a savage vehemence I had not seen in her before. And still she went on. Lost and helpless in the moment, adrift in time, had this been happening forever? The third ecstasy crashed over me as I helplessly writhed on her hand, screaming. We may have raptured again after that, or perhaps that last was longer than the others, but I was too overwhelmed to be certain.
With a final shudder I felt Layla’s fingers slide out of me and we crumpled to the ground, our legs trembling and useless. As the waves of pleasure began to recede, our musk filled the air we drew in great gasps, sweat cooled our heat. It took a moment for the world to pull back into focus. My muscles had pulled so taut I lay there momentarily helpless, only able to breathe with effort. I lolled my head towards Summer and she side-eyed me, astonishment in her eyes verifying our mutual experience. As my limbs began to respond, my gaze was drawn by the sound of our lover slowly savouring our juices as she licked them from her fingers. All we could do was watch her magnificence as we came back to ourselves.
Our world was now wider and wilder. We had no idea anything, let alone pleasure, could be so extreme. Words seemed inadequate as we cast about for what to say, settling on husky thanks, our throats raw from howling. Layla appeared nonchalant about the transformative experience she had just bestowed upon us.
“You said you are unknown to men, but you have felt that before, yes?” Layla asked.
Our defences destroyed, we were left in confessional mood.
“We learned of rapture some winters past,” Summer nodded, still gasping for breath. “Rapture. That’s what we call… that.”
“Together. In our room,” I panted.
“Tell me,” Layla demanded.
“It felt pleasing when we washed our nethers,” Summer explained.
“So, one night, when we were cleaning our…” I continued, gesturing to my quim, “we kept going. To see how good it could feel. Well, we found out. It was a shock, at first.”
“Mother had explained the possibility before and that it was a private thing, so we kept it secret. We indulged a good deal that winter and ever since,” Summer divulged.
“We refined it. Made our own ritual out of it,” I shared.
“How so?” asked Layla.
“We face each other while we explore our pleasure,” I revealed, without hesitation. This was our most private secret. How could Layla draw it from us so easily?
“We match our touch, stroke for stroke, like you just did, until… rapture,” Summer explained a little sheepishly. “This is our secret. Will you keep it, sister?” Summer asked Layla. It seemed only natural that she had referred to our friend as our sister.
“Upon my life and by our pact, all your secrets shall remain sealed within my heart, forever,” Layla pledged with both hands solemnly clasped over her chest. With great relief we accepted her vow completely. We believed in our pact. Its bonds wrapped about our hearts and minds, tethering the three of us; the answer to so many questions we did not know needed asking. We had never truly known such blessings before that night, but now we were convinced. This was love.
We had recovered somewhat but simply sat there, backs to the mossy stone, looking up at Layla smiling, standing over us, a vision bathed in moonlight.
“Will you teach us how you did that?” Summer asked. “It was better than any rapture we have done before.”
“Of course, in time. It is all about paying attention, learning your partner’s rhythm and making adjustments to suit them in the moment. I can teach you this skill,” Layla said openly. We wanted that. We would absorb anything she would teach us.
“May we do anything for you?” I asked, uncertain of what we might offer but hoped we could provide some delight for her.
“Yes, we must. Anything,” Summer offered flirtatiously, having regained her composure. It won a new smile for our lover. We were both still on the ground, so I draped myself over Summer’s shoulder and looked up as seductively as I could manage, which magnified Layla’s grin.
“Well, let me see,” she said pacing away from us to consider. Then she stopped, turned around and said, “Come here.” She pointed to the ground in front of her. We made a move to stand but Layla made a downwards motion with her hand so we transitioned to kneeling positions instead. Perhaps there was some magic to the bond we shared because it was obvious to us what Layla wanted us to do. Even if it was unusual and felt a little foolish, I was deeply inclined to indulge any of her whims. She crooked a finger to beckon us closer and the two of us advanced on all fours like dogs.
It was so silly that I had to look down to hide my grin at how ridiculous this was, but I committed to the game and swayed my hips exaggeratedly, like I had seen a gypsy dancer do once. I modified my grin into a sweet smile and looked up at Layla as we crawled the few paces to her. She looked right at me and seemed so imperious it struck the smile from my face. Suddenly this was serious, an appropriate way to approach someone of such magnificence. Such extreme deference felt agreeable in ways I would never have imagined. A novel, weird arousal churned within me as we knelt before her.
“You enjoyed what I did to you,” she stated. Perhaps it was her accent, but I sometimes found it hard to distinguish between when she was asking and when she was asserting.
“Yes,” we said in unison.
“And now you wish to do something for me,” she said. It was true. I desired it deeply. I felt a slight dizziness, perhaps the after-effects of the pleasure she had wrought from us.
“Anything,” we said as one.
“Good. Well, let us see how best to use we may put the two of you.” Authority came naturally to Layla, it lived in her voice, her demeanour, her eyes. I imagined she was used to ordering servants about. “Have you ever kissed a woman here,” she placed her hand over her sex.
“No,” we replied.
“Winter, this shall be your task,” she ordered. “Summer, stand.” My twin complied eagerly, unable to take her eyes off our friend.
Without ceremony, Layla lifted her skirt and showed me her sex. Like us she wore no undergarments. Her quim was crowned in a thatch of pure white hair.
“Now Winter, I want you to lick me. Start here and work upwards in regular motions. Establish a rhythm,” she indicated with her fingers. “Come a little closer and put your hands around my legs so you may press harder into me. Be attentive to my responses, listen to the sounds I make, feel the shifts in my body and modify your tongue strokes as you see fit. I will guide you.”
That reassured me as, being a total novice, I was apprehensive about my task. It all seemed peculiarly precise and unromantic, but I was very open to trying anything she wanted me to do. My first concern was would I do it right, but further questions galloped through my mind. Would I like it? Would I love it? What if I hated it? What if I spoiled it for Summer? I tried to put them out of my mind and silently recited Layla’s instructions and found focusing on them calmed my nerves.
I shuffled forward on my knees and slipped my hands about Layla’s cool thighs. They were slender and smooth but not soft, instead surprisingly firm, like sculpted stone. I glanced up at her to check I was doing what she wanted, and she gave me a small nod but held up a hand to make me wait. My eyes returned to her sex, inches from my face. I had never looked at another woman’s quim this closely and hers fascinated me. The fine, white hair looked soft, and I wondered what it would feel like against my face, my lips, my tongue. It had a strong musky scent with an unusual hint of something floral. Had she perfumed privates?
“Summer,” I heard Layla say.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer answered instantly.
“I want you to kiss me like your life depends on it. Show me your passion, show me what you want, show me your soul,” Layla instructed, a little floridly I thought.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer said as she positioned herself right beside me, pressing into my arm around Layla’s leg. I felt Layla’s fingers slide into my hair as her hand gripped the back of my head.
“Winter, since my mouth will be otherwise occupied, I will guide you with my hand. Be attentive. Now begin,” she said and pulled my head to her, dipping my face in her sex.
Her public hair was even softer than it looked, almost like fur, which was pleasant but odd. I began licking at once, trying to find the rhythm Layla had insisted upon, tenderly prising apart her folds with my tongue, only to discover her flesh was as cold within as it was without. Her musk grew much stronger, thick and heady, and she tasted unusual, not unpleasant but hard to define and certainly unexpected. This put me off momentarily and I started to pull away, but Layla’a impressive grip meant I was going nowhere. There was a nascent thrill to her holding me in place with such strength. With no alternative, I ignored the distracting coolness and peculiar flavour, taking a deep breath, heavy with her scent, and focused on giving her what she wanted. I could do no less after all she had done for us.
As Summer pressed against Layla, I combed through the sounds of their embrace, trying to detect any response to my efforts. It was easier to read Layla’s grip. When I struck her preferred rhythm, she would grind my face into her, and I began to differentiate the deep moans I was causing to escape from beneath Summer’s kisses. When the force of her grip relaxed, I would resume my tempo as regularly as I could, snatching my breath when able.
The feel of her thighs, so smooth and strong, became an anchor for me, something to hold on to through my misgivings. Her hand, clamping my head in position, provided reassurance and guidance that what I was doing was correct. Through it, she could subtly readjust my pressure and angle of approach, which I appreciated. Following her direction removed much of my concerns about my lack of skill. The feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her filled my senses. Her musk was strange, but the more I struck the right pace and place the stronger it became, the more pleasant it seemed to me. I was starting to enjoy myself and, unexpectedly, I was starting to develop an appreciation, almost a craving for the taste of her.
Perhaps it was the repetition and focus of my task, but my thoughts were being strangely lulled. My sister’s passionate caresses above me were a distraction so I had to put that aside, ignoring it to perfect the role Layla had set me. Doing my best to block everything out, I knew only the clasp I had about my lover’s legs, the control she exercised through her grip about my head, the feel and taste of her cunt under my tongue, and all suffused with the profound pleasure in knowing I was pleasing the woman I loved.
I became nothing more than a process of those actions and that feeling. Clasp, grip, lick, pleasure. That was all there was, so that was all that mattered, so that was all there was. Clasp, grip, lick, pleasure. I paid no mind to my fears, doubts or inexperience, nor where I was, nor why. The simplicity owned me. Clasp, grip, lick, pleasure. I became attuned to my lover, making instant, miniscule adjustments under her guiding hand without thinking, no true decisions on my part. Clasp, grip, lick, pleasure. I began to suspect the moments when she mashed me into her were her orgasms, quite unlike our own, briefer, more restrained, controlled. The notion gave me renewed purpose. Clasp, grip, lick, pleasure. The pleasure I gave became indistinguishable from my understanding of what pleasure was. Her control of me became a delight in and of itself. I had no attention left to consider any of this strange, I simply did as Layla wished and loved it. Clasp, grip, lick, pleasure.
Time slipped away. My task was all. Thoughts were superfluous. I brought pleasure. Nothing more.
Layla was delicious to me now, my thirst for her insatiable. The more my tongue lapped the more freely she flowed. If it had been wrong to drink her, she would have stopped me, so this was all entirely correct.
There came a final climax when she held me so tight, I began to smother. I clung fast about her legs as my senses spun. I gulped down as much of her juices as I could, trying to capture some of her essence. Then I was released, fell on my back, gasped for air, as spent as she.
I licked my lips to gather her remnants. How could she taste so good? Layla looked down at me, nodding her approval. She was not out of breath, like I, but she did look a little more flushed than usual, hair wild. It was novel to see her less than immaculate and I took a little pride in thinking how I contributed to that.
Summer staggered back, her vision unfocused, glassy-eyed, a remote smile her only expression. She clearly enjoyed that, I concluded. Layla snapped her fingers in front of Summer’s face and the daze she was lost in dissolved. She peered intently, disbelievingly into the face of our lover.
“You are everything. Everything…” Summer incredulously said, which made Layla smile broadly.
“And you… are wonderful,” Layla returned before looking to me and saying, “And you have a remarkable talent there, Winter. You were both everything I could wish for, more than everything. Exceptional. It is hard to believe you have never done that to a woman before.”
We dumbly shook our heads. Layla offed her hand to help me up, which, still a little stunned, I gratefully took. The three of us embraced. Summer and I parted but we kept our arms locked about Layla’s waist as we opened our cuddle to take in the view of the valley.
“It is truly beautiful,” Layla said indicating the vista. We are, I thought.
“We are,” Summer said, speaking my thoughts, which made me smile. “The three of us. Beautiful together.”
Layla kissed her on the cheek for that. She did not kiss me, yet I felt no envy. I was tranquil, fulfilled. My thoughts flitted between the taste of her, the feel of her fingers inside me, Summer helpless in ecstasy beside me. This was love. It had to be. If love was anything other than this, I did not want it. I wanted Layla, I needed to be her lover and to explore the world with her.
We unhurriedly clambered down to the pool and drifted back through the wood, reluctant to part but realising the moment approached. Layla escorted us back to the cabin, pausing before the treeline. We kissed again and held her like we would never let her go.
“We truly love you, Layla. We always shall. We know that now,” I announced. Summer was a little surprised I was being so bold, but swiftly saw the truth of my words.
“We do. Will you be our girlfriend?” Summer asked, confidence in her voice masking the vulnerability only I was likely to recognise.
“Yes. Upon my soul, yes. Yes. I have fallen profoundly in love with you both and would be honoured to court,” Layla replied, which made me clap in joy. It was everything our hearts wanted to hear. “One condition: you will be true to our pact. Our relationship is our secret alone.”
“We pledge ourselves to our pact,” we said as one, without hesitation.
“Then I pledge myself to our pact, and will shall court. We are bound by our pact. We are bound as lovers,” Layla said, much to our delight. “Do you see what I meant that your first time changes you?” she asked.
“Yes, Layla,” we confirmed in unison. “You have changed us.”
“I am so glad you did,” I added.
“We are your creatures now,” Summer said. That was a dramatic way of putting it, but it felt accurate. Layla smiled her wolfish grin.
“Thank you for fucking us,” I said, perhaps too crudely. That was not like me, but I was too fucked to care.
“Will you fuck us again?” Summer asked. So, we swear now, I noted. Perhaps a more casual attitude to profanity was part of how Layla had changed us?
“Oh yes,” Layla assured us. “I will fuck the two of you forever if you wish.”
“We wish,” we said as one, grinned and squeezed her.
“State your wish,” Layla asked.
“We wish that you will fuck us forever,” we said together. We both shuddered at the magnitude of our hopes.
Layla kissed us both and I felt quite light-headed. I was exhausted. “Farewell, beloved sisters. Tomorrow night, by the fallen tree, whenever you can get away.”
“We will be there,” we said, pure commitment in our voices.
We floated back to our cabin and crept back inside. The transformative night had left us adrift in a satisfied daze. For once, we had nothing to say, merely smiled at each other, occasionally shaking our heads at the enormity of our experience. We undressed, gingerly washed our aching nethers and climbed into bed. I wanted to ask how kissing Layla had been and to tell Summer about my adventure drinking from her sex, but it all seemed incidental to the importance of Layla being our girlfriend, so we lay down and tried to sleep.
Summer whispered into the room, “Making us crawl was weird.”
“Yes,” I replied softly, slowly. I turned over that part of the night’s extravaganza in my mind, trying to fully encompass what I felt about it. It was not hard to distil my emotions. “But I liked it.”
“Yes,” Summer hissed. “Me too. A lot. Especially when we knelt in front of her. That felt…” She paused struggling to express a single concept amid the myriad Layla engendered within us.
“Perfect,” I said.
“Yes,” Summer agreed. “Perfect.”