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Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Bundle One

By LimeyLady

Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2018

Distributed by Smashwords

All characters and events in this publication,

other than those clearly in the public domain,

are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Equally importantly, all the characters are

over the age of 18

Table of Contents

1: Dwayne’s World

2: Kat’s Story

3: Come On Eileen

4: Cuffed Under False Pretences

Author’s Note

Other Books by LimeyLady

Dwayne’s World

The lounge had been, Heather thought, slightly predominated by females. Balancing it out, the kitchen was slightly predominated by males. Adding an ironic twist to her musings, the music changed as she went through from one room to the other. In a blast from long ago, before she’d even been born, Jona Lewie was telling the world where to find him at parties.

Secretly Heather agreed that it was the place to be: most of the booze was found “in the kitchen at parties”, and so was some of the best conversation.

Dwayne was easy to spot. He was six feet tall, black and beautiful. That much said he looked small next to his cousin Sam, who was enormous in every sense of the word.

Heather smiled at the sight of Sam. Now the idea had been levered into her head she was quite up for a bout with Dwayne, but her course-mate Sam was something else. He had the world’s biggest sense of humour and a personality which made him impossible not to like. He could inflict gales of laughter on total strangers within two seconds of meeting them.

Sam could also bring hilarity into the bedroom. Heather knew that only too well. Never mind her usual limit of only two nights shagging for guys, Sam had already had five or six trysts. And, with almost all their final year still to go, he would undoubtedly be having a few more.

Unfortunately, tonight Sam was hooked up with a Sociologist called Dawn. Dawn might be blonde and sexy but she did herself no favours. What a sulky expression she always had! Even if she hadn’t been so blatantly straight Heather wouldn’t have touched her with a bargepole.

Briefly running her eye over the rest of Dwayne’s group, Heather glanced to her right and immediately saw Katie’s fridges. The communal one had a sign on it saying “PUT IN AND TAKE OUT FREELY”. It was tall, old and possibly antique. The smaller, much newer fridge had a sign on it saying “KATIE’S - KEEP OUT!!

As if the sign wasn’t enough warning, a poster had been added lower down, attached with Sellotape. It very prominently featured a skull, crossbones and the words “ACHTUNG MINEN!!!

Heather didn’t really expect to set off an explosion but she was cautious as she eased open the fridge door. While actual mines weren’t exactly compatible with bottles of wine, she didn’t entirely rule booby traps out as a possibility.

Fortunately, there were no deterrents other than the signs. Her Pinot was nestled in the pocket inside the door. She refilled her glass then, conscious of the weight of Dwayne’s eyes on her, made her way over to his stretch of worktop.

Sam was, as always, in the middle of some funny story. Despite Dawn’s hand on his arm, he broke off and planted a big kiss smack on Heather’s mouth.

‘The sister I never had,’ he chuckled. ‘Well, not often enough, anyway.’

Coming from anyone else that might have seemed distasteful. Coming from Sam it was hilarious.

Well, it was to everybody apart from Dawn.

Pushing Sam away from her Heather assumed her best gushing mode. ‘Ignore him, Dawn, he’s such a loudmouth.’

Before Dawn could object Heather kissed her three times: once on each cheek and then very swiftly on her lips.

Turning to the other two members of the group, Heather grinned. Kris was a central defender in the men’s soccer team, and an exceptionally good one at that. Even though Heather didn’t much like his ginger goatee he got the same triple kiss as Dawn.

She had quite deliberately saved Viola until last. No, make that very deliberately. Viola had the figure of a young Naomi Campbell but was a shade taller, and her face had even finer bone structure. It was hard to believe she was studying at a Lancashire university instead of strutting down catwalks.

Viola’s version of “casual” was a sight for sore eyes. Her short blue jeans stopped a fraction below her knees, exposing her lovely brown calves, and her tight white T-shirt didn’t leave much to anyone’s imagination.

In fact Heather had never set eyes on such a vision; she eclipsed everyone, even Mary Rose.

Not that superhero worship was ever going to restrain a born and bred, red-blooded Yorkshire lass.

‘Hi Vi,’ she said before ditching the cheek kisses and grabbing herself a mouthful of luscious lips.

Amazingly Viola (allegedly as straight as infinitely more miserable Dawn) kissed back at her. Okay, so she did seem to hesitate for an instant, but then she turned on the tap and gave as good as she got.

Ten seconds that kiss lasted. After a nine count, shocking Heather in the most pleasant way ever, Vi’s tongue shot out and circled inside her very avidly pursed lips. Oh what joy! But, before she could start to respond in kind, the tall, ebony-skinned beauty had pulled away.

‘Hev,’ she tittered, ‘you’re such a tease!’

‘What about me?’ Dwayne put in. ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’

Heather gave him a chaste kiss on the nose. ‘That’s it for now,’ she said. ‘Play your cards right and I might give you another later.’

Sam’s huge laugh rocked the terrace’s foundations. ‘Dwayne baby,’ he boomed, ‘make sure you keep your aces up your sleeve. And remember, points mean prizes.’


Over the next hour or so the sextet gradually became three pairings. Heather, into her second bottle of Pinot, first noticed Dawn incrementally excluding Sam from the general banter. And she did it well. Once or twice she even raised a smile.

Opposites attract, Heather thought more than once, but those two . . .

Meanwhile Kris was incrementally excluding Viola. That disappointed Heather. Kissing those soft lips of Vi’s had been quite an experience; so too had her enthusiastic response. What a shame Vi wasn’t even remotely curious.

Dwayne was good company, though. He wasn’t nearly as big or as loud as his cousin but there again, neither was anyone else. And Dwayne was a much better listener. Being students they gabbed about all sorts of trivialities . . . most of them instantly forgotten again . . . but he definitely listened to her as much as she listened to him.

In all fairness, as the Pinot went down, he might well have been more attentive than she was.

And wasn’t she turned on! Yes, even without really trying, Dwayne was definitely playing his cards right!!!

If anything, he was playing them too slowly.

Get on with it, she thought. The answer’s yes, just flipping-well suggest something!

Finally, as the other four headed off to dance to something by Ashanti, Dwayne said he needed to “go pay a call”. Heather gave him perhaps five seconds of a start then followed.

Fractionally delayed by a couple who were sitting on a step, sharing a joint, she arrived up on the first floor landing and cast around. All was as she had expected: a closed bathroom door dead ahead, two bedrooms to her left and, to her right, that final flight of stairs.

Helpfully, the bedrooms had name plaques on them. The nearest read: “Beware - Katie’s Pit” and was, rather bizarrely, bordered in a riot of childlike flowers. Heather smiled as she saw the other, far plainer plaque read: “Sophie’s Room”. Katie’d had three housemates until last summer. During the long break Sophie had visited a commune near St Ives and hadn’t yet returned.

Keeping one eye on the bathroom, Heather opened Sophie’s door. What she saw inside pleased her. There was a neatly-made bed and a lot of cardboard boxes. The boxes were stuffed with ring binders in an assortment of colours, probably containing last year’s coursework. And there were a lot of them; far more than the work of just one student. It was easy to assume that this had become a junk room in the belief Sophie was now a surfing chick and wouldn’t be back.

Or a happy hippy whore, which amounted to much the same, didn’t it?

Heather grinned at the very idea. For two pins she could have been a happy hippy whore herself. And she could have surfed as well as anyone.

Better yet, better than her Cornish fantasies, the old-fashioned door had a lock with a key in it on the inside.

The sound of a flushing toilet brought Heather swiftly back into the corridor. As Dwayne came out of the bathroom she beckoned him, curling her finger and using all of her arm in a come-hither sort of a way. She’d seen such a gesture in an old film, used by a “lady of easy virtue” in a bid to attract trade. And guess what; it worked now just as well as it had on celluloid.

Two seconds later they were in Sophie’s room, the door was locked and the key was safely secured in Heather’s rear jeans’ pocket.

‘I skimped on your kiss,’ she said, grinning at him. ‘Would you like me to make up for that?’

‘You bet I would.’

That was consent enough for Heather. She launched herself at him.


Weaving their way through the obstacle course of boxes wasn’t easy with their mouths tightly locked. But somehow they made it and pressed their eager bodies ever tighter together as they kept their first serious kiss going on the bed.

And good grief! Was that a baseball bat stuffed down the front of Dwayne’s jeans!!

Intrigued, Heather deftly unfastened and unzipped.

‘Commando,’ she cried, ‘I like that in a man. And I like this even more.’

Dwayne’s willy was not quite the longest she’d ever encountered but it was definitely the thickest. And how could she think of it as a “willy”? Dwayne was all man, so surely it couldn’t be thought of in terms befitting a schoolgirl.

Still admiring its shape, she took hold of Dwayne’s rock hard cock, impressed anew as she found out that her hand could only just close around its base.

‘Lie back and enjoy,’ she said, ‘I may be some time.’


Heather always referred to fellatio as “doing below jobs”, insisting that “blow job” was an abbreviation of the old, historical term, “below job”, and a less than accurate abbreviation at that. She enjoyed giving them, though, and considered herself honoured to be dealing with a cock like this.

Not that size really mattered, of course. It wasn’t Dwayne’s eight or nine inches that would please her, more a matter of what he could do with them. But that wonderfully thick shaft did have its possibilities, didn’t it!

Already fully erect, Dwayne’s foreskin had mostly retracted of its own accord, exposing his pink glans. Heather gently tugged on him, pulling the last of his prepuce away and down, stretching it, liking the way a band of pinkness suddenly ended and his usual blackness took over. And she liked the sight of his glans, too. Some of her sluttier friends called that part of a man “cockhead” or “helmet”. Dwayne’s glans was very large and did indeed look like a helmet.

In fact it reminded her of the ones the Germans used to wear in WWII.

Using her left hand on the bottom half of his cock, Heather began to masturbate him. Using her right hand on his balls, she began to gently squeeze. And, using the tip of her tongue, she began to lick at him all over, particularly under and around his helmet.

Dwayne sighed and told her she was marvellous.

Not prepared to break off, Heather kept on squeezing and masturbating, never varying the slow and steady rhythms of her hands. Her mouth did vary its actions, though. Sometimes she would lick him with the flat of her tongue, concentrating on the top half of his shaft as well as his helmet. Sometimes she would suck him, sometimes taking in four or five inches, sometimes only one or two, alternating it, keeping him on his toes. And sometimes she would use her teeth, but never anywhere near his glans; oh no, she knew what softies men could be and kept her teeth for the middle region of his shaft.

According to Dwayne she was now incredible and miraculous.

According to Heather it was time he started to think about cumming. She gradually upped the pace of her left hand, letting it slide a little higher and higher. And, squeezing his balls slightly ever-so-slightly harder, she took him back in her mouth, sucking on him with ever-increasing urgency.

‘Hev,’ he said. ‘Oh Hev, I think . . .’

Hands still working busily away, she popped him out again. Sure enough, perhaps five beats later, a tiny trickle of white oozed from his tip. Realizing he was about to erupt, she hastily put him back into her mouth.

‘Oh Hev, oh my God, yes!’

Dwayne ejaculated in seven mighty blasts.

Seven; Heather’s favourite number!!

She skilfully swallowed the first few and collected the last couple. Then, when she was sure that he’d finished, she opened up so he could see her savouring his seed on her tongue. And then she closed, swallowed and reopened.

‘Now you see it, now you don’t,’ she said. ‘I’m just like a hooker in a video, aren’t I?’

‘Oh my God, I’m speechless.’

Heather wasn’t speechless but had no time for many more words. Using both her hands on Dwayne’s cock, she did her best to wring every last bit of semen out of him, hungrily devouring the odd drop or two she’d not already had.

‘Jesus,’ he breathed. ‘You’re like a vacuum cleaner.’

Heather took that as a compliment. It was the sort of thing guys said in those porn videos. Not that she ever watched them.


Dwayne took hold of her T-shirt and pulled it off her. ‘My God,’ he said, staring at her, his lust-meter obviously up beyond critical. ‘How can anyone have nipples like those?’

‘You say the sweetest things.’ Heather reached out in her turn, swiftly removing his white Fred Perry top, probably one from the polo range. ‘Let’s get naked,’ she said. ‘Let’s find out what you can do with that lovely big cock.’


Turned out Dwayne could do lots of good things with his cock. But first he did lots of good things with his tongue, both internally and externally. Confident she’d found an acceptable lover, Heather finally pulled him away from her honeypot, relishing the feel of all the short, stubbly hair on his chest against her super-sensitive boobs. Soon she had him where she wanted: in the most basic position going, his warm brown eyes staring down into her lusting green ones.

‘Oh yes,’ she said, reaching for him, intending to guide him home.

‘No,’ he said, ‘let me.’

Heather reckoned she could trust him and was soon glad that she did.

Good grief, she thought, the guy has done this before!

Guiding himself, Dwayne eased his lovely hard helmet into her. Then he eased it out. And then he did it again and again. Maybe he was psychic but he’d somehow happened on an action that ticked all of her boxes. Her opening was her best-ever place, nearly as good as her clit. She knew only too well that there were zillions of nerve endings around it and he was stimulating every last one of them.

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