Ettie and Rose’s Dirty Weekend (Smutathon 2018)

Second story time! Another queer romance, but a much happier one set in the late 1940s, and with a gorgeous accompanying image kindly provided by the wonderful Eye and Missy

On Thursday the 4th of August 1949, the 12pm Blackpool train from Manchester was crammed with children and mardy-looking grandmothers crammed into every corner of every carriage.

“Let’s just stand in the hallway.” Ettie suggested after a third door had opened to reveal several mewling infants and bemused female relatives trying and failing to keep order.

“It’s an hour journey or more, I don’t think my legs could take it. Let’s walk on further there must be a space for us.”
“You could sit on the case. Or on me.” Ettie suggested helpfully as they walked on.

Eventually they came to a larger carriage with just as many unruly children, but also two empty seats separated by a pair of soldiers – Canadian possibly – having a very heated debate. Their eyes lit up when they spied Ettie – buxom and twenty, with delicately waved hair and an innocent expression. Their focus was largely on the straining material of her blouse where her breasts were threatening to escape.

“Gentlemen, would you mind awfully if we asked you to move so we could sit beside one another?” She asked sweetly as Rose wrestled their cases into the racks above.

“Sure, but wouldn’t you like to keep us company, Miss? You and your sister?” he added, noticing Rose – with legs like Marlene Dietrich and a face like thunder.

“No, but I’d like to keep her company.” Rose replied stoutly and maybe they read it as sisterly protection, or even had them pegged for dykes as soon as they clapped eyes on them, but the men grudgingly moved to allow the two women to sit beside one another, only casting wounded glances at the two every so often as the train rattled towards its destination.

Sister was something they got a lot and were used to by this point. Once Rose had been mistaken for her mother and whilst Rose had found it hilarious, Ettie had been mortified.

“I know I can’t be bold and say you’re my lover but I hardly look like you could have birthed me!” She complained in bed that night as Rose snaked her hand across Ettie’s bare belly and down between her thighs. Touching her cunt as she ranted, feeling her angry wetness relax into desire pleased her greatly. Rubbing her thumb against her loves cunt she laughed softly as Ettie’s voice began to falter. She pawed aimlessly at Rose’s hair for a moment or two and railed against the very notion of being mistaken for a child a little longer before her monologue became a moan and Rose leant down to kiss her flushing chest.

As they pulled in to Blackpool Central Station, Ettie used the cover of the soldiers pelting for the door and kicking their way through a sea of sticky-faced children, to place her hand against the swell of Rose’s breast and whisper “At fucking last.” In her ear.

The hotel was dilapidated, hundreds of rooms, approximately six of which could lay claim to a sea view. From their tiny window they could see a thin strip of sky and little else. That didn’t matter. They were hardly there for long walks on the sands and candy floss, after all.

As Rose busied herself with the case and decanted various clothing items into the narrow set of drawers in the corner, Ettie lay down on the bed.

“S’quite comfy actually.”

“Eve said it wasn’t a bad place to rest your head. And cheap.”
“No bed springs poking me in the appendix at night.”
“Do you even know where your appendix is?” Rose laughed, turning to see Ettie pulling a thoughtful face and then pointing triumphantly at her right arm.

“Is it here?”

“No…….” Rose replied, removing her coat and leaning over to unlace her shoes.

“How about here?” Ettie, still fully clothed, had spread her legs and was pointing between them.

“Definitely not. What are they teaching in school these days?”
“Hey!” Ettie said sharply, offended. “It’s been a long time since I was a schoolgirl.”
She sat up and unthreaded her arms from her coat. Rose took it from her and hung it next to her own on the back of the door.

“Come here and kiss me.” Ettie whined.

“Shhhh, not so loud. You don’t want to frighten the natives.”

Ettie grinned and spread her legs wider.

“Henrietta is open for business.” she giggled, pushing against the fat of her thigh. “Ready, willing and able.”
“Don’t mix metaphors!” but Rose was laughing too, and watching her fumble with the buttons on her blouse. Her brassiere even strained against her beautiful flesh. Rose stepped over and helped with the last couple of hindrances. She couldn’t help herself, as the flesh was revealed she ducked her head and pulled the material away from her nipples, which were large and the colour of the plaster in Mrs Bentley’s horrible bedrooms. She revelled in the way the skin tightened as she became aroused. Could almost feel the roughness of her tongue building the stiff peak of the nipple between her lips.

She felt Ettie’s arm knocking against her chest and realised she had reached under her skirt, peeling aside her sodden knickers and was was masturbating, the scent of her rising, and making Rose’s head swim.

Rose drew back, and tried to control herself.

“I want to watch you.” She sat back down on the bed.

“You want to what?” and still Ettie’s fingers rubbed, one hand spreading her sweet parts as the other chafed.

“Watch you.” Rose tucked her legs under her and began to remove her shoes, placing them neatly on the rug. “Watch you doing as you’re doing now. As if I wasn’t here.”
“But you are here.” Ettie countered. She moved her hands abruptly and reached out, over the narrow strip of space between them, but Rose drew back.

“Show me.” She said softly.

Suddenly shy, Ettie’s hands began to shake as she touched herself again, spreading her labia for her eager audience. But her hands refused to work. No one had ever asked her to do this before. She didn’t know people did ask such things.

“I can’t.” She whispered, almost tearful.

“Hey, not tears.” Rose whispered, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her bitten lips. “Why don’t I show you how I touch you, hmm?”

Ettie nodded, her face nuzzled into Rose’s neck, who let her hands trace the soft terrain of Ettie’s stomach to her smooth, inviting cunt and penetrated her with three fingers of her right hand, making her gasp and whimper.

Her body assented with ease, and she twitched with every jerk and manipulation of Rose’s experienced fingers. Fingers that had caressed her hair and stroked her back. Had held her legs apart as her tongue discovered the damp and fertile landscape of Ettie’s vulva. Fingers that had locked with her own as they walked along the promenade, sharing an ice cream and kissing in the seclusion of the covered benches when they were positive no one was approaching.

As Ettie reached her crisis, Rose held the fingers deeply inside her until withdrawing them, sucking the nectar from her skin. Ettie’s breathing was shallow as they lay on the narrow bed together, her hand seeking Rose’s, as the summer light finally began to fade.

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