Donna's Surprise

We were enjoying a glass of cooling wine at the Old Jill and Whistle. Nellie was behind the bar but her heart was no longer in her work except for the fact that it provided much needed funds for her imminent wedding to which Donna and I were invited. Nellie had assumed a rather haughty air now that she was affianced to a sporting star and she spoke often and with authority about the team’s recent performances, often debating furiously with informed customers. A group now surrounded her but my suspicions were that the draw was her magnificent set of blouse-busters rather than her sporting knowledge. Although my Dad and I often attended matches together (what he called Usdays since we could happily if tacitly exclude mum from them) I did not know half as much as Nellie did about the game. It’s amazing where love will pull you.

You know us both well by now, Donna and me. We are old friends, you and I, and I have no secrets from you regarding life with Donna, mainly because it is such an exceptionally happy thing. I believe I have mentioned before her use of somewhat portentous language. This became particularly noticeable when she was examining something in her mind. I grew to realise that her questions to me were really an attempt to unscramble something in her head and she merely used me to help that process. At other times she was, I later realised, merely taking the piss as she was when she had asked me about swans mating for life.

I had been telling her about a dress I was going to buy to wear to Nellie’s imminent wedding. She’d said things in all the right places and I had not realised she hadn’t been listening to me on more than a superficial level at all. Can you explain why this sort of thing would drive me to anger in anyone else but I merely found it endearing in her? I’d got to the bit about how much it was going to cost when she tapped my hand, often an indication I should shut up but a less enjoyable way than another she used, which was to kiss me.

‘National debt.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Funny you should raise the matter of overspending. I was going to ask you about national debt.’ I didn’t remember mentioning overspending but she knew my attitude to shopping for clothes is based on a sort of ‘fuck it I’ll find the cash somehow’ philosophy. ‘I have been reading the newspapers somewhat more assiduously of late in order to create a more learned impression. Our clients, now I am officially allowed to address them and not merely hand them canapés and booze, expect a certain informed quality about gallery staff you know College. We’re not like the tart who flogged you that frock.’ I hadn’t bought it thus far but did not raise the point. ‘So, this rich bitch came into the gallery the other day and said that the painting she fancied was worth more than the national debt and I felt ill-equipped to debate the matter. I therefore decided I should undertake some research. My research so far has served to cast some light on it but I’d appreciate your assistance.

‘Donna, I know bugger all about finance.’

She ignored my protest. ‘Ah, but that is not the point my little brainpuss. You have the gift, see, of clarity. You are a light in my intellectual darkness. And even when you are not fully informed you still manage to unravel the key issues for me.’ She touched my face affectionately and a member of Nellie’s tit supporters club gave a slight sigh, or perhaps it was me.

‘I genuinely know nothing about national debt.’

The eyebrow above her blue eye (the other is brown) lifted in a questioning way but recognising the truth of my statement she smiled and said, ‘In that case, College, how about we nip home and shag?’ I finished my drink rather quickly.

When we got home I was surprised that Donna seemed to want to take things slowly. We had a smoochy kiss in the hallway, another in the kitchen and then she said, ‘You go and have a shower and get into bed, then I will shower and join you.’ This was highly unusual. We normally showered together and, quite often, started our love making there but, as you will have realised by now, if Donna wanted something I rarely denied her. ‘And College,’ she called as I was almost in the bathroom, 'turn the light out.’ I was now suspicious. Had she been with someone and she’d scratched or bitten her? Why did she not want me to see her? I showered, slipped on a nightdress, turned the lights out and got into bed. I followed her audible trail as she walked through to the bathroom, I heard her pee, then her pad as she came into the bedroom. This was oddly arousing – but perhaps a little difference always is.

She slid into bed behind me, held my back to her and kissed my neck, nibbling my ear and licking it. I felt her slowly lift my nightdress and then her hands caressed my breasts and I felt something hard slip between my thighs and deliciously stroke itself against me. At first I thought it was what Donna called her ‘buzzcock,’ that is her vibrator but then it occurred to me that both her hands were engaged in a delightful assault on my chest. I also realised that the ‘thing’s’ movement between my thighs coincided with Donna’s own movements. I turned my head slightly.

‘You always said you’d never liked strapons!’

Still moving gently she said, ‘And you’re not wrong, College. But this particular prosthesis has no straps and buckles. I found it on the internet and thought, wow, College and I might really find that interesting.’ I certainly found it more interesting when her hand roamed lower and guided the business end of it into me. I suspect I may have given a little gasp, but who knows what one does at times like that.’ I am not going to claim, as in fiction, that our climaxes coincided. That, for us, is a rare event. What I will say is that we did both attain that glorious state and it was joyful. It also involved a fair bit of moving about and was rather energetic but then, sex with Donna often is. After the event it is my normal practice to pop down below and have a quick word with Lower Donna (another of her expressions) but she stopped me. ‘Don’t you dare put it in your mouth.’ I sniggered and went lower, eased the device from her and lavished appropriate attention.

Why did I snigger? Because we had been watching a naughty film together a few nights before and one girl had knelt to take her lover’s unfeasibly large strapon in her mouth. As she did so Donna said in a deliberately bad imitation of a dark, seductive voice, ‘Have I told you felately that I llllove you?’ I giggled like I did when I read about Raggit the gerbil on this very blog and actually fell of the chair. Who could suck a plastic part after that? And, as Donna later pointed out, why would you.

‘After all, College, I wouldn’t feel it and it might be bad for your dentistry!’ Always considerate is my Donna.