I met Celia on Finder. My divorce was final, and just as I was ready to go out and spread some celebratory wild oats, Covid 19 came to America. So I freed myself exactly when I couldn't celebrate my freedom. So I read. I wrote. I chatted. I invested in sex toys until the day came when I entered House Moderna and felt like I could go out and expose myself to the world. So I downloaded Finder, wrote up a profile, uploaded a carefully selected (optional) picture, and waited to see what would happen. 

Finder's deal was that if you liked someone, you swiped right on their profile. If two people swiped right on each other, a message window opened for them. My profile was pretty conventional. “Divorced, actively bisexual white geek girl who loves movies, music, and books seeks a regular dance partner. . .” There was other stuff, but that catches the gist of it. Pretty conventional and I wasn't entirely happy with it, but couldn't bring myself to risk any more.

Celia caught my eye, precisely because her profile was everything mine was not. “Gay white female seeks future ex-girlfriend. No walks in the park or foreign art movies. Gin with Gingers is my goal.” I had to read it twice. And I smiled the whole time. Celia's picture showed a brassy girl with short, dark brown hair, big wire-rimmed glasses, and a toothy grin. She had shown a sense of humor. I liked the way she looked; I swiped right. 

The message window opened. Given her chutzpah in her profile, the least I could do was fight back.  “Dear Celia. I have a lot to recommend me as your future ex-girlfriend. I'm recently divorced and left my ex unmutilated. If I left Him relatively unmarked, odds are You will survive dating me with most of your limbs intact. But you won't have trouble finding reasons to flee. I read too much, am opinionated, and will always be pestering you for sex.  Why Wait? Let's blow past the goo-goo-eyed stage and race directly for disillusionment.” 

I plinked that off at lunch, had a brief panic after hitting SEND, but it was done so I went back to work. By the time I got off, her reply came back.  “Dear Donna. I can't tell you how disappointed I am that you left your ex intact. Generally, men are better off without one or two of their appendages. The small ones in particular. It calms them. But I am intrigued . . . Celia.”

So I sat in my car reading that and chuckled. Celia was clearly out there. I liked that. “Dear Celia, I know how you feel but my legal staff advised me I need an airtight alibi if I wished to evade justice.  Still, many women's prison movies suggest that romance is possible behind prison bars. Particularly if you are into BDSM and Linda Blair. But how in the world would I smuggle in my magic wand? Donna.” I clicked send before I drove home. 

I didn't hear anything until late, right as I was getting ready for bed. 

“Dear Donna. You really need to understand the first rule about getting sex toys in jail. You carve them out of soap or go down on a prison guard. Granted, Beefy Guards aren't my type, but being bisexual you are likely more flexible. And you could draw Sybil Danning. Kisses, Celia.”

This went on for about a week with an average of two messages exchanged a day. The joking slowed as we began to exchange more details about each other's lives. She was younger than me, in her mid-twenties. She worked as a “Coach” at a national sportswear chain. I asked if that gave her shower privileges. She asked me if I used my company laptop to watch porn. 

I told her I did, in fact, write smut. But not on the company laptop.

She scoffed and said she thought me too dainty for that. 

I sent her a link to a story I'd written. And didn't hear from her immediately. Then it was one word.  “Wow. You were serious.”

About an hour later, she sent, “I'm off this Saturday, Want to get dinner and prove you're as strange as I hope you are?”

We made a date to meet at a taco place we both liked in a neighborhood full of clubs. I had myself waxed, got a haircut, a pedicure, and a new button-up sleeveless white cotton top with a collar. I dressed, did my makeup carefully, and opened my nightstand to get my jewelry box, and also found my collection of butt plugs. 

I know what you're thinking. Who wears a butt plug to a first date? It's not my usual habit on any date. The Angelic Good Donna in my head argued exactly that in sweet dulcet tones that went well with the sound of plucking harps. 

Devil Donna interrupted good me to a soundtrack of Harleys and cranked up Marshall amplifiers.  “Who plugs on their first date? Girls who haven't gotten laid in over a year, that's who! If she's a future ex-girlfriend, can you really afford to waste time? Girl, you know she's strange. Get some before she's gone!”

I reached into the drawer, pulled out my smallest plug and my tube of lube. I felt myself dripping as I pressed the lubricated tip to my pucker, pushing and releasing, pushing and releasing, letting the lube work into my pucker before bearing down and taking it deep. It had been a long time, and it felt huge in my bottom as my sphincter squeezed and held it tight in place. I gasped, my pussy contracting in time with my ass, and I almost rubbed my finger on my now wet cunt. But then I decided to save myself for the sport I was dressing for.

I put on a purple thong to match the amethyst that decorated the jewel of my plug. A very short tartan skirt, with my new white blouse and suspenders to keep my skirt in the right place. No bra. I'm cute, but not big-breasted. I learned long ago how a tight, thin top was all I ever needed to draw the eye. I clipped a bow tie on the collar, topped off with my best 1960s era horn-rimmed glasses. Summer made it too hot for stockings, but sandals with low heels completed the package. I looked in the mirror and I saw a smoking hot geek chick. I googled the restaurant, checked the time, and headed out the door. 

I got there early, but Celia was already there. She was sitting in the corner and her eyes got big and her mouth fell open as I approached, which made me feel really good. She stood up and planted a wet kiss on my hand. 

I was every bit as smitten with her as she seemed to be with me. Celia was nearly six feet tall. I have nice curves but Celia was ripe with curves, her body firm and full-breasted. She wore a halter and black shorts which showed off very supple legs. She wore minimal makeup but was very pretty with fake pearl earrings and a simple cross hanging from her neck. I bore down on my plugged bottom as I looked at her. 

“Hi,” I said and sat down, calming my jets. Celia definitely appealed to me. She ordered us margaritas, and while I like to order for myself, it was margaritas at a taco place. What could be more natural? 

“You put the G-G-G in Geek,” she said. “I am duly impressed.”

“Me too,” I said. “It took real courage to put that ad out there. I can't imagine some of the responses you got.”

“Well, it helps that I'm a lesbian,” she said. “Men can't see my ad. I can't imagine the responses you get from the men who see your ad.”

“Well, a bunch want to know if I'm into threesomes,” I admitted. “Which makes it really easy to swipe left on them.” 

“Ahhh,” she said. “It was wily of you to set a trap like that for them. Few men can control themselves in the presence of a Hot Bi Babe.”

“Some of them escaped my snare,” I said. “But none so far have really stood out. You, on the other hand, offer the promise of a brief yet torrid affair.”

"Oh, I'm all about torrid,” she said with a wicked smile and a look in my eyes. “And I'm out with a cute pornographer.  Really, what could suggest kink more than that?”

We talked a lot. I'd graduated from State, her from Tech. She was a theater major who worked but not for much money and took the retail job as starvation was not an option. I talked about my office work, how I was moving up and felt I might have a career. And then I mentioned my writing. 

“Oh, yes. That story you shared with me. Would you by chance have more? I've fallen behind on my weekly masturbation schedule and I think your words will help me catch up.”

I cracked up. "Of course, if masturbation is really what you want out of tonight."

She stopped cold for just a few tenths of a second, then grinned at me. Her eyes smoldered. "Well, I have been doing a number of solo performances since Covid-19 hit. But I am willing to branch out with the right girl." She smiled at me and we talked. And we had a great time. And as the meal continued, I suggested we go dancing. I knew a gay-friendly club around the corner and hoped she would be interested. 

“A wonderful idea,” she said, looking me directly in the eyes. “And I would go if I hadn't made a promise to some friends that I would meet them tonight at about this time, in order to give me a truthful excuse to back out if you proved trollish. As you are anything but a troll, I would like you to come and meet them so they can memorize your description. A precaution, in case I disappear. For some reason, they are protective of me and feel the need to pass judgment.”

“Okay.” I wasn't sure I was into that. I mean, I was out for her, and I hadn't made any alternative plans beyond arranging a call I could use to feign an emergency if Celia proved a disaster. But I had no plans to use it, and frankly, if she was this funny, her friends might be too. I agreed. I could use some new friends. I'd lost a bunch in my divorce. 

We paid our checks and headed down the street to an Irish pub. She laced her fingers in mine as we entered. “Because I want everyone to know you're with me,” she said, then kissed me softly. It wasn't an intense kiss, but my toes felt it and it meant she liked me as much as I liked her.

Celia had three friends waiting for her. Peter and Paula were a couple — tall, very attractive, and clean-cut who probably worked at an office. Griffin was scruffier, an electrician in a Primus t-shirt with long hair and a beard. They rose to greet me as Celia introduced me, “This is my pornographer friend Donna.”

I turned red as a beet and almost left, but Celia leaned into me to wrap her arm around my beltline and pull me close. 

Paula's eyes got really big. “Do you make movies?”

“No darling, she's a writer,” Celia pressed her boobs into my arm. “And she's just as arousing in person as she is on the printed page.”

“I didn't know pornos had writers,” said Griffin, offering his hand and an honest smile. The twinkle in his eye told me he was messing with me.

“They really do ask for a bit more than 'Wanna fuck?',” I answered.

“Well, sorry you aren't in movies because I could use a new career,” he said with a wink, waving the bartender over. A very fit young blonde man arrived. “A round of shots for the five of us,” he said. 

And we plopped down, together with Griffin on my right and the Ps to Celia's left.

“This is Dustin,” Peter said, introducing our bartender as bourbon shots arrived. 

“Duckston,” said Celia, with a bad faux English accent. “Is your last name Farnsbury? Do you have an estate?”

“I think if I had an estate,” Duckston said, because that was now his name to us, “I wouldn't be tending bar.”

Celia wasn't about to back off in the face of logic. “Oh yes, you would,” she said, "Duckston, you serve us drinks for the chicks! And the opportunity to witness hot lesbian kissing.”

Celia pulled me tight and pressed her lips to mine. They were soft and full, and she moaned softly as our lips rubbed together and she pressed her tongue between my lips. I was kinda shocked, but her kiss had a real passion to it. My arms wrapped around her, and then we gave them all a good snog. When we broke the kiss, Dustin, I mean Duckston, was standing there with his jaw open in a shocked grin. I was tingling and more than a little aware of the plug riding in my ass. 

Celia was nonplussed. “Surely seeing that was worth a little menial labor, eh little Lord Farnsworth.” 

He blushed. We laughed and white wine was set in front of me. It was sweet and warm and my fingers found Celia's bottom, which she wiggled to push against me. Another shot appeared and people told jokes. The jukebox switched from Steely Dan to U2 to Foo Fighters to Julien Baker. Celia's fingers were squeezing my bottom now and pressing tight.  We'd been there for a very quick hour when she grabbed her phone. She clicked a bit, then leaned in close to announce with a lick of my left ear,  “I just summoned us an Uber. I'm taking you home.”

She kissed me again, hard, and her tongue pressed deep into my mouth. I could feel her full breasts pressing against mine.  She felt so soft and primally female. I decided to push her so shoved my tongue deep into Celia's mouth. I heard people whistling in the background. At that moment I just didn't care; I just plastered my lips to her and let them enjoy the show. I liked it; I liked knowing that almost every eye in the room was on us, on me. I imagined the cocks that were swelling and pussies moistening because Celia and I were getting it on. If there were a few prigs who thought public displays of homosexual passion were verboten, Fuck 'em! I cared about the here and now. I cared about the strawberry flavor of Celia's delicious lips. 

We said our goodbyes and headed out on the street. A bus sped past us, cars were honking and I heard people but I had eyes only for Celia. We kissed on the streetside, and after a couple of minutes, a copper-colored Subaru pulled over with an Uber sign.  We slid into the back seat.

“Drive,” Celia said to the driver, a heavy young man in a t-shirt. “You may ogle, but you must keep driving,”

Celia's lips pressed to my ear as the car began to move. “I wonder if he'll get the reference,” she whispered. Her fingertips and thumbs captured my nipples, rolling and stretching them as she began to lick my face with a wide, flattened tongue.

I found myself holding her breasts, full, weighty, well more than a handful, and so intoxicating. My cunt was wet and I felt her lifting my skirt, felt her fingers on my thong, tracing out the line of my slit. I moaned into her mouth, my breasts and pussy aching. Her fingers found my pussy, slowly sliding up and down my slit. Though frantic, she stayed patient, just the way I like it, at least at first as her tongue thrust into my mouth and her other hand squeezed my right breast. 

Then Celia pulled back, her hand wantonly moving up my skirt, rubbing my cunt, and then she announced, “I am so going to fuck you tonight!”

“Is that a promise?” I was grinning as I spoke and winked at the driver, whom I could see peeking in the mirror.  What a sight we were! My skirt was up, my thong soaked and her fingers were on my cunt and squeezing my boobs. For my part, my hands were under Celia's full breasts, squeezing and lifting them because my mouth hungered for a taste. 

I leaned down and took her right breast into my mouth, tonguing and squeezing it, taking it in my teeth to bite and pull. I heard her cry out, her hands on my head now, holding me there as I licked her and drooled onto her top, soaking it. I found her nipple bulging through the material, and knowing it was protected by the fabric, I bit hard enough for her to feel it. 

She shrieked but held me in place. "Oh, you nasty bitch,” she said, before adding less loudly, “I am going to fuck you into the next county when I get you home!”

I bit again, pinning her nipple between my teeth. My right hand went into her shorts, pressing down on her mound, spread fingers seeking out her slit from outside her panties. She was wet as I'd hoped, the fabric soaked through to the touch. I rubbed on her, a finger on each side of her slit, slowly up and down, doing unto Celia as she was doing to me. 

The car stopped. The driver said nothing as we toyed with each other. He was staring at the rearview mirror, unsure of what to do. Celia broke our kiss and whispered in his ear, “Think of us when you go home, boy, and remember us when you pull your pecker. And I know you will.” 

She yanked me out the door. She was in one of those buildings where the apartments were in a row and opened up to a long porch. Celia lived almost in the middle of the building, and, hand in hand, we raced up the stairs and to the center door. She found the key in her purse, pushed it open, and dragged me inside. I slammed the door behind us. There in the light only from her kitchen and the street lights outside, she pushed me up against the wall and took me. Her lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and deep, her tongue thrusting deeply.  She shoved her right hand up my skirt, pushed my thong aside, and shoved two fingers up my cunt. I moaned as she drove her fingers hard and deep, fucking me with fury and passion. My hips bucked as I pressed back at Celia, moaning into our kiss. I could feel my pussy seeping thick cunt slime to cover her fingers and wrist. 

“Fuck,” she said and pulled aside my suspenders, then yanked her top off as I unbuttoned mine. I pulled it apart, baring my small breasts for her as she removed her sports bra; her breasts were wide and heavy, nipples pink and small but hard.  Her boobs shook with every motion. I leaned over to take her right breast into my mouth, holding it up with my hands. Sucking on it, I let my right hand down to her shorts, but Celia beat me to it, fingers peeling off her shorts and panties, her hairy bush so evident in my hands and her wet, wet cunt. 

She shoved me down on the couch and climbed on top of me. Celia was so tall, her breast fell naturally onto my mouth as her thigh ground up and down on my bare cunt.  Our hips pumped out an elevated rhythm while I feasted on her enormous, soft breasts.  They surrounded my head, enclosing me in soft tit-flesh as I sucked and gnawed on her 

I started losing track as my body spun with raw pleasure. Celia mauled my breasts and ground her pussy hard on me, putting her full weight on my cunt. My hands clutched her ass, pulling her tight to me, urging her on even while I sucked as much nipple as I could between my lips.

“Oh, you dirty bitch,” Celia shouted, her voice loud and hoarse, my thigh dripping with her slime and my own cunt tingling with need and desire. Plus the plug in my ass making itself felt. I loved how it felt inside me, the pressure feeding back into my sex, creating a loop of pleasure and joy. 

Celia rose then. “C'mon. Let's go to the bedroom. That's where the toys are.”

“Not all of them,” I said, smiling and squeezing my plugged butt.

She looked at me funny so I turned around to show her my amethyst-tipped plug. 

Celia's eyes got big. “You wore that . . . . for me! Oh, you are the dirty slut I was hoping you'd be! Such a naughty girl you are.” She pressed on my plug to let me know how she really felt.

“I like it too,” I told her and wiggled my bottom the whole way to her bedroom. It was small, a little messy, but simple with Queen sized bed and plain, beech furniture. Pictures of Neko Case and Brandi Carlyle adorned her walls. I flopped down on the bed, with my bottom up because I have a nice bottom and because that position would highlight my plugged ass. I looked back to smile at her standing over me, studying my bottom with her mouth open and surprised, and then she knelt behind me and began kissing my butt cheeks. 

“You like my bottom,” I said, looking back at her, reaching back to stroke her dark hair as she licked my cheeks. “I wonder how much you like it. You called me a dirty girl. Just how dirty are you?"

Celia chuckled as she licked and, with her right hand, gripped the wide base of my plug and gave it a tug, exactly what I'd hoped she'd do. I moaned aloud as the ball stretched my sphincter. Then she released it and it sank back in up to the narrow neck. Then she tugged again, stretching me, and released. Tug and release, tug and release, tug and release. Celia set up a sweet rhythm that had my cunt contracting in time with my ass,  and left me wanting to finger myself. Devil Donna's cunt urged me to get myself off with her tongue on my ass and her fingers pulling my plug.  But Angelic Donna argued to let her do it.  Good me won that debate.

That sort of reverie cannot last. Soon Celia pulled my plug out and tossed it aside. She made up for it by filling the void in my ass with her tongue, and she pushed deep. She held her lips tight to my bottom, her tongue folded and thrusting, fucking and loving me. I started to whimper as she rimmed me right. My cunt was burning and dripping and so eager to be touched. Her finger found me, just a touch to my clitoris and it was enough to set my cunt into convulsions and set my pussy leaking down onto her hand. I gasped and rocked on her bed, fingers wrapped tight about the headboard as she ate me out and fucked me with her fingers, and I didn't care who heard my cries. I looked back and Celia leaned back, a big smile on her shiny wet face, her big breasts bouncing with every motion. She pulled open her nightstand and pulled out a battery wand. 

“Put a towel on it,” I said in a hoarse voice, between breaths. “Too intense.” I never used my magic wand bare, at least if it was going anywhere near my clit.

“Fuck that,” she said. “Intense is the point." She pushed three fingers inside me and pressed the wand directly to my clit. 

I felt like she'd plugged me into a light socket. My body lit up and waves of pleasure shot through me. The vibrations were intense. Too intense, but what about tonight had been anything else? Celia was nothing but consistent as the vibrations engulfed my cunt as her fingers thrust hard and fast inside me. I rode a roller coaster of ecstasy, each and every peak followed by a mad rush to the valley, then the climb back up again, lifting me off my seat. I set my feet on the bed and pushed myself up into her.  My screams carried over the buzz of Mister Hitachi's finest as I begged, pleaded, and howled like a wolf at the full moon. 

Finally, I yelled “Enough,” and pushed Celia off me, and rolled away, covering my still quivering cunt for mercy.  I was still spasming, my cunt sodden, and my thighs too with the cunt slime I'd leaked. I just couldn't take any more. 

Celia looked up at me, grinning through her glasses, face spattered with cunt slime and her own saliva. “Never enough.”

“Fuck that,” I said, pushing myself, heading for her on my hands and knees. “It's your turn. I'm going to devour you.”

“Shit,” she said, and I could see her clenching her thighs together, her full pussy lips shining. “If you really want to go down on me, we'd better go to the bathroom. Be warned, I get downright messy when I cum. I kinda pee.” 

"Who cares? Flood me out, because, Baby, I'm going to drain you dry.” She set her glasses aside. By then I'd lost all track of mine. She led me to the bathtub, shoved aside the shower curtain, and stepped inside. I followed and knelt on the tub floor before her, my eyes fixed upon her pink pussy lips peeking out from that dark brown bush.

“You sure?” she said, a little scared for the first time. 

I laughed and leaned in, running my tongue tip from the base of her pussy up to her lips. “It's Donna time,” I told her. “I wouldn't miss this for the world.” And I started sweeping her pussy with my tongue. 

Man or woman, there's a rhythm to giving head. I needed to move matters forward, but not push the pace. I wanted sweet Celia to blossom in my mouth. I buried my nose in her mound, placed my upper lip on her hood and my tongue on her clit; I was perfectly placed to get Celia where I wanted her.  Through my lips and tongue, I felt each and every vibration and contraction. Like a hungry dog, I lapped at her, my tongue slurping, Celia holding my head tight, my hands on her hips, as she undulated, pushing her hips hard against me. Her hands held me tight in place, trying to force my nose into her mound and my lips onto her cunt and my tongue deep inside. But the thing is, I had her where I wanted her. Between her legs, I controlled the horizontal and the vertical, and I felt the rise of her body, the whimpers that left her mouth, the sounds of pleading and pleasing. She moaned and begged and held my head tight in place. I could feel her cunt tighten up and chose that moment to push my index finger up her ass. 

Celia lost it. She cried out like an operatic soprano, voice rebounding off the shower tiles as she fucked my face. And out came her juices. Squirting, shooting it out like a man only in a long clear stream, not pee, but something else, splashing on my face and running in streams down my breasts and into the tub. I opened my mouth wide like a slut trying to catch it all, trying to make her secretions mine as her hips pumped and her pussy spasmed and spasmed. And then she collapsed against the corner of the shower and sunk down with me on the soaked floor of the tub. 

“God damn,” Celia said, shaking her head, chest heaving, those lovely breasts rising and falling and shimmying from side to side. “You're fucking filthy. And I love it.” 

I chuckled. “Turn around and show me your bottom. I'll show you how filthy I am.”

She laughed. Celia's hand went onto my head to run her fingers in my locks. “You know what, I believe you.” Her chest was still rising and falling as she worked to breathe. “I wonder if there's anything you won't try.”

“There are a few things,” I admitted. “But we haven't gotten that far yet.” 

“You know something, my future ex-girlfriend,” she said. “I think you're going to end up being the one that got away.”

“You aren't rid of me yet,” I said and leaned in to kiss her lips with my wet face, a wet hungry kiss. 

“Give it time,” she said, kissing me again, softly as a lover does.