To the Lighthouse Chapter 1
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To The Lighthouse -1-
The Lighthouse
"Can you see it yet?" shouted Portia.
Her girlfriend of three and a half years was a fast climber and was already on the top of the cliff.
"No, but the fog is clearing," said Hadley. She looked out to sea, where two large sailboats bobbed on the waves. "Wait! There it is—just like I knew it would be. Oh, God, it's time for me to die." Instead of dying, Hadley took in a big breath of sea air and felt rejuvenated.
The two lovers were on vacation in England from Wellesley College, where they were both full professors of English Literature. They woke up this morning full of hope and promise after arriving after dark from London. After a week in London and its environs, the chance to engage in a night of gentle lovemaking and lively banter over two glasses of cabernet sauvignon and cheddar cheese was life-giving. They were lodging at Hotel St. Ives, just a stone's throw from Talland House, an apartment house built on the site of Virginia Woolf's vacation home.
"Let me take your hand, love. Up you go, just one more step. Look, over there," said Hadley as she pointed to the left.
"Oh my god, it's beautiful," said Portia. "Just as I imagined, only better, I think."
Last night was perfect in Hadley's mind. Lately, she had been worrying about Portia. She was sort of tired out and distant much of the time. She felt that the trip to England was just what she needed. Last night was the best sex they'd had in some time. At least, she thought it was. It would be nice if Portia agreed.
"You know, that was the best sex we've had in quite some time," said Portia as she got a little breakfast together for them. Hadley beamed at the pronouncement.
"I mean, both of us had multiple orgasms," continued Portia. "How long has that been? I feel so rested right now. I say we get a glimpse of the lighthouse and then come back here and fuck some more. I feel so sexy just being in the town where my hero walked."
"You mean our hero," said Hadley. "And I'm so down for your suggestion. Hot, sweaty sex. There's nothing like it."
She closed the gap to where Portia awaited her, putting her left hand around Portia's ample breast and kissing her deeply. Portia mewled in response, and their tongues dueled. They separated after a couple of minutes.
"Hell, the lighthouse can wait," said Hadley, breathing hard. "I'm so horny right now."
"I love it, you horny wench. But we'll miss a chance to see the lighthouse appear out of the mist," said Portia.
"You're right. Mark my words: I'm hot for you, dear. There's something about the air here." She unconsciously drew a deep breath down her lungs.
"You've got that right. C'mon, let's finish our breakfast and go treasure hunting," said Portia.
The Lighthouse
The two sat on a rock, staring at the town of St. Ives but always returning to the lighthouse. In her novel, Woolf's setting for the lighthouse was on the Isle of Skye of the Inner Hebrides Islands, hundreds of miles north in Scotland. But make no mistake, in her mind's eye, she was looking at this one. It had changed little, externally, since her time.
"It's so iconic, a lighthouse," said Hadley. "It probably had a drunken single man in charge of it back in the day."
"For sure," said Portia. "No internet, no porn magazines to speak of. Just him and his left hand, he he." They both got a kick out of that one. They enjoyed putting men in their place when it was just the two of them talking. They used discretion on the subject of men when back with civilians. Portia took out a cigarette and lit up. She blew out the smoke in a most relaxed manner. Hadley took the opportunity to apply some lotion to her face, arms, and legs. Hadley had an idea.
"Conversely, what if we were to "woman" a lighthouse? Think of it: no privacy issues. I could go for that. Sex whenever we feel like it. Maybe for the summer months. Just think of the writing we would do!"
"OK, you're in charge of the lighthouse thing. I expect a full report by 0800 next Tuesday."
"Aye, captain. You're a slave driver," said Portia.
"Lord knows we've got several lighthouses in the Northeast US. I wonder if any of them are womaned?" said Hadley. "Probably not. Not tough enough, or some other bullshit."
They fell silent again, staring at the lighthouse, thinking about Virginia, her work, and why she had to die so young. Then, it was time to return to their lodging. She put out her cigarette and got up to face Hadley, grabbing her by the arms. Hadley knew something was up; the arm thing was new to her. Suddenly, Portia knelt and presented Hadley with a small ring box with a gold thumb ring. Portia then began to speak,
"I know I was a bitch the last couple of weeks," said Portia. "But I had to finish the semester, and the load was almost unbearable. What, with another class to teach and my book, calling for my attention every day. But this trip has been great. And I've been thinking about it for quite a while now. I would love to have you as my wife if you can tolerate all my bad habits. Please, Hadley: accept this ring as a symbol of our engagement."
"Oh wow, please?" said Hadley. "How about that! "Yes" is my answer. God, yes."
And Hadley, the woman with the old-fashioned first name, a trendsetter among women, kissed her. They locked lips and deliberately swallowed each other's tongue, losing all sense of time and proportion. It was so sexy, so right. Portia took the ring and put it on Hadley's right thumb. It fit perfectly. She reached into her pocket, pulled out another ring box with an identical ring, and placed it on her right thumb. Then they kissed some more.
"What bad habits, by the way," said Hadley when they came up for air. "I share them. I adore your bad habits."
"You're so good to me," said Portia.
They had been talking about marriage, but lately, Portia had gone quiet on the topic. She was extremely busy, but secretly, she got the rings and talked to her femme lawyer about legal stuff. It all came together on the trip to England and the white lighthouse. Another gay couple came up the path as they were preparing to leave. Hadley talked them into photographing a replay of Portia on her knees, with the lighthouse in the background. Hadley sent a copy to their phones, with the younger girl crying and exclaiming,
"O-M-G, that's the most romantic thing I've ever witnessed." Awww.
A Conversation and More, Much More
"She was really ahead of her time," said Hadley.
Portia concurred. "What would that mean for us? How do we do our work, being ahead of our time?" And they were back in the hotel, in the elevator to the top-floor suite. Hadley reached out and softly massaged Portia's breasts.
"Ooh, that's unexpected! Just like the ring and the two young sapphists on the trail. But I love it." She covered her lover's hand with hers and smiled longingly.
"I've thought about that and don't have an answer. Perhaps it's just staying together and working. Divorce or splitting up is just too easy. We work hard, do our best, and leave it to history to see if we've contributed to the discussion. To see if we've moved women forward. It already seems to me that we have."
"Keep going, Hadley. You're on a roll."
"I feel that the women we've helped embrace lesbianism are our daughters. We've helped them develop their minds, and there have been many of them. And there will be many more. Think about the women coming to you and me from Latin America. They were wishy-washy lesbians when they arrived. They were our close friends and committed to the life by the time they graduated. Some of them return to their communities and make a big difference. Of course, even those who stay and get into intellectual work here are the next generation of women writers and thinkers."
"Just listening to you is so inspiring," said Portia. "But I want to go for a brief walk "downtown", to see what's going on before I get into your panties. But before we go, we need coffee or hot chocolate now that we've solved many problems for women. Choose your poison, as it were."
"You know me: hot chocolate," said Hadley.
"And I'll take a coffee," Portia said. "I'll put the water on and go clean up. She filled the kettle and then kissed Hadley.
"That's the down payment." Hadley disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes while Portia lingered, taking a cigarette from her lover. She'd use the bathroom when they returned from their hike.
Portia smoked every couple of hours, about six or seven cigarettes a day. She turned smoking into an art form with her long, tapered fingers and her puffy lips. The inhaling of the smoke was so sexual to her, and it helped her think. She was writing a book on Jane Austen's influence on lesbianism in the 20th century. The book was developing well, and she attributed her smoking to at least part of the progress.
She inhaled a long drag and held it in, blowing out the smoke at the last second. It was beautiful to have a cigarette when on vacation with the woman she adored. She called after Hadley in the bathroom.
"Hey, let's make love first, after coffee and hot chocolate," said Portia. "I think we got our priorities a little switched around."
"You're the director," Hadley said. "I love following your lead." Portia stubbed out her cigarette and walked to the bathroom. Her confidence was at an all-time high. She whistled the tune to Moon River. The tune was apt, and Hadley was amazed that she could whistle. She'd never heard Portia whistling before; it was a guy thing.
Portia emerged from the bathroom in her fresh bra and panties. She proceeded to the bedroom and saw Hadley in her fresh bra and panties. She had her coffee and Hadley her hot chocolate. In the nude, she was making small talk. To both of them, it was an extraordinary moment.
"Come here and make love to me," Hadley said in a husky voice. The two locked lips, their heads moving evenly over the upper body of their soul mates, depositing many kisses and licks. When Hadley undid Portia's bra and tossed it to the corner, Portia did the same to her. They had wondrous big girl breasts.
"We should both be bra models. We have such glorious breasts, `ya know?" said Portia. She proceeded to lick and kiss the breasts of her future wife, covering her twins with gentle bites and little busses. She paid particular attention to the nipples. Hadley was mewling, twisting her head to and fro, enjoying her partners.
The Hadley took over, kissing Portia on the lips with plenty of tongue. She loved Portia's big hair and ran her hands through it. Portia's stout breasts were calling her, and she, too, licked and sucked and deposited kisses on her babies. Portia was very responsive, mewling like a Siamese cat.
Portia thought back to her undergrad days. The boys gave much attention to her wondrous face and perfect body. Of course, she was gay, but it was still fun to receive the looks. Now, not so much. The men and boys kept to themselves. They don't even open the doors like they used to. They don't even try to catch a girl's eye. It was fine with Portia and Hadley and the other gay girls, but it was strange how society was changing. The women's movement had something to do with this, she thought.
Hadley surprised Portia by removing first her own panties and then Portia's. She patted the queen-sized bed, signaling to Portia that she would be the aggressor, at least initially. Portia got on her back and was playing with her sodden, open pussy that cried out to Hadley, "I'm ready; I'm yours."
Something came over Hadley; she went straight for Portia's pussy. She was accustomed to the smell and taste of her lover but not the strength that came over her that day. She almost fainted.
"Your arousal is overpowering, and the taste of your pussy is so strong and so sweet today. My god, it's delish. I thought you'd like to know that," said Hadley. Within 30 seconds, she was deeper than she had ever been with her oversized tongue. Deep, deep, touching Portia's cervix. Aahhh.
Portia, for her part, was tangled in the sheets, making snow angels as she did as a kid in her front yard on a snowy day. She was dreaming of their wedding, of all the years of lovemaking to follow. She was lost in love and lust.
Hadley knew that Portia was gone and felt very free. She was doing all kinds of things to her that she knew, of course, but never did to Portia when fucking. For example, she turned her right hand up so that she was looking at the palm and ran it up and down her cunt, squeezing the pussy lips between the second and third fingers. Portia noticed it and raised her head to see, but she was too far gone to say anything. Hadley also was patting her pussy lips with her hand, something else she rarely did. Of course, her tongue was continuing the assault on Portia's pussy and clit. She was "abusing" Portia, who thanked her by cumming quickly.
"Ohh my god, I'm cumming, you whore," she moaned. Hadley's left hand was tweaking her nipples and slapping her breasts. She didn't know what was coming over her, but she loved the freedom she was experiencing. It was like Portia's proposal had freed up her inner bad girl.
"Keep doing it, you dyke, you fucking crazed dyke," said Portia. "Whatever it is, just keep doing it. Aahhhh. Aahhhh, oohhhh, sheesh, Aahhhh, it's so fucking good."
Portia's legs and feet went still, her beautiful, bright red manicured toes frozen and pointing straight up. Her mouth froze into a big "O," and her hands were straight out to the side. For a moment, Hadley, though not religious, thought she was crucified. There was no sign of life for a moment, but that moment came and went as Portian moaned.
"Where am I," she said. It was spooky.
"You're right here, with me," said Hadley.
They got out two strapons: a pink one in a black leather holster and a red one with the heavy-duty panties arrangement. Their toys caused a little stir in the Boston airport, where the two lassies and their luggage were "randomly" checked. The young guy, clearly a hot greaser, had touched their strapons with his gloved hand more than necessary. Random. Right. He was the TSA agent checking their luggage for bombs and guns.
Once past him, they laughed on their way to the gate. They thought seriously of going to the bathroom and doing their thing in the handicap stall and again laughed.
The Girl with a Pearl Earring
They got to the bedroom and stared at each other. Portia went to her suitcase, got the blue scarf and her jewelry roll, and took out her large pearl earrings. Hadley was so beautiful that she seemed finer than the painting of the Girl With a Pearl Earring by Vermeer. She had gone into dressing mode, passively receiving the instruction and adoration of her lover. She had a youthful-looking face, like the girl's.
Portia had never told her as much, but now she felt so loving and loved, and she said,
"Take my large blue and yellow scarf and wrap it around your head like this." She adjusted the scarf on her forehead. Hadley said nothing.
"Now, take these pearl earrings," said Portia. "Please put them both on. Mm-hmm, that's it. Here, my gold bathrobe is the color I'm looking for. Please put it on."
"God, if you don't look like the Vermeer painting. Here, tilt your head down and look over your shoulder," Portia said flatly. "Yes, that's it. The girl with the pearl earring. I'm marrying an immortal goddess."
Hadley, thirty, was a sixteen-year-old again. Bouncing around, loving. They both got rid of those pesky clothes and tossed them.
Portia put on the strapon, the one with the reinforced panties. She was the top, and today she would fuck her girl with the pearl earrings. Hadley was a switch, but today, she would play a role.
"Now, to fuck my girl," said Portia.
To Bed
Now that Portia was undressed, she had to put on the ointment of loving. She found her bottle of lube, put a bead on the dildo, and spread it up and down the shaft. She then looked at her lover, pulled her red panties down her legs, and threw them to the corner. She put a little dab of lube in her pussy too.
"You have such lovely equipment," Portia commented. I love your body. It talks to me, saying, I'm yours. Come and get me."
"You're the top girl I've dreamed of when I was twelve. The one who'll take charge, make sure I cum and all that." Portia smiled at that.
Hadley had taken a thorough bath last night, and though she sweated a bit climbing the cliff, she still smelled gorgeous.
Portia pointed to the middle of the bed, and Hadley was eager to comply.
Then Portia was on her, doing the thing that lesbian lovers do so well: warming her up. She first kissed her face, eyes, ears, and nose with gentle busses. When their lips met, it seemed to Hadley that time stood still, and everything was just louder. Their mouths fit perfectly, and their big tongues raged as if it was the first time they kissed these three and a half years ago. After giving her a hickey on her perfect throat, it was on to her breasts, those firm mounds. Kissing them, laving them with her tongue. Then on to her abs, those muscular wonders. By the time Portia was done warming her up, Hadley had a sheen all about her upper body.
Hadley's cunt was oozing cum and precum, and that delighted Portia. She gave it a few licks and played with it with her hand. Then, standing proudly on her knees, entered her with the strap a couple of inches.
"Oh my god, it's so good, honey," Hadley said, expelling her last bit of anxiety and tenseness. "Do me like you do. Have your way with me."
Her pussy was now open, her lips gleaming. Her mind wandered to flashes of delicious times with Portia in the past. They were in eye contact this whole time, but when Portia pushed for the bottom of the passage, Hadley closed her eyes and said,
"Oh baby, I'm yours. Fuck me now, you dyke. Aaaahhhhhhhh."
"You're getting' it, my lesbian whore," as she easily slid the stapon to the bottom and back out. Over and over.
Between her wetness and Portia's and even the lubrication of the dildo, Hadley had become a swamp. As Portia drilled her cunt, little balls of moisture flew everywhere, making sure that she and Portia knew how horny she was. Hadley loved it; Portia loved it. In and out, she went at varying speeds, strong but not overly aggressive like the men she knew in a previous life.
"Oh baby, I'm coming," cried Hadley. "Just keep doing what you are, who you are. I love it. Oohhhh, Aahhhh."
"You got a towel?" said Portia. "For you're getting me all wet. You know that you're a fucking beautiful mess. A hot, fucking, and gorgeous mess, tee hee."
Portia never came when fucking a girl with a strap. But in her mind, she experienced great pleasure in watching her lover and facilitating her orgasms.
It was Hadley's turn at twisting in the sheets. Around and around: hands and feet, arms and legs. Aahhhh, oohhhh. Suddenly, she pulled off the dildo, saying, "Enough...I can't take it anymore." She curled up in a ball, and Portia came up behind her and whispered softly in her ear,
"My God, this is what I have to look forward to. Fifty years of the best sex with you, my love! No one can touch this." Unfortunately, Hadley was already asleep, dreaming the same thoughts.
Hadley's Coming Out Story
It was early afternoon in their room, and both of them were drinking wine coolers, chilling out.
"You know, I've never heard your coming out story. What's gives? How old were you?" said Portia.
"So, growing up, I was an only child, and I was thirteen years old when I had my first period," said Hadley. "I really trace my fascination with women to that event. With my hormones racing, a whole new world of women opened up to me in about two months. I was almost instantly attracted to most girls and women. At the same time, boys stirred my curiosity just a little."
"I came out to my mother, Lila, and she shocked me. She kissed me on the lips and told me,"
"I've known for some time. It was how you looked at the girls and touched them," she said. "I'm not sure you were aware, but I saw you kiss Abby on the cheeks and the lips. But I didn't discourage you, like so many mothers do."
"I'm guilty as charged, your honor," I told her then.
"I was giving Abby and others tongue by the time I was eleven. This all came out at thirteen."
"The next thing you know, my mom and I were in bed together. It turns out that she had been gay, too, for several years. She introduced me to her girlfriends, women in their 20's, 30's, and 40's. The sex was so, so good; I was gone. For a while, it was the only thing I thought of. The women really know how to care for the younger lesbian girls."
"I was really scared when I came out to my dad, but he was surprisingly laid back about it. He was just worried for me, my future. At the time, I thought that maybe he was gay. For example, he never ever kissed my mother. My mom agreed with me and told me about his dalliances. I promised to keep the family secrets.
"To their credit, they were both so kind to the girls I brought around. It was so natural that some ended up in bed with my mother and me."
"Unfortunately, they drifted apart, divorcing about twelve years ago. My mother and I are still very close, as you know."
Portia responded, "That is another thing we have in common: being very close to our mothers and sleeping with them from an early age. I love your story. Please, go on."
"You probably notice I'm pretty affectionate by nature," said Hadley. "I found myself getting all kinds of women in bed from the get-go. I was told my a couple of experienced ladies that they saw it in my eyes. Especially teachers and coaches. I'm a very bad girl."
"So bad, so very bad," mewled Portia.
"I did go through a crazy time in high school when I discovered a boy who, as I look back, was femmy. Over the course of three weeks, we did it almost every day, but I tell you, I suspected he was gay. The experience wasn't bad, but it didn't compare to being with a woman. He dropped me for a boy in the play he was in, and I went back to girls. Actually, I never left girls. I just wanted to try sex with guys. I tried it, and it was left wanting."
"So, that's it. Crazy, I know," said Hadley.
Portia's Story
Portia got up to get another wine cooler from the hotel frig.
"Would you like another one, darling," she told Hadley. "Your coming out story was awesome. I feel so good right now."
"Thank you, dear," Hadley said. "Didn't you get started earlier than me? I can't remember."
"My mother tells me I was fascinated with girls from kindergarten, and boys were just a nuisance to me. I guess nothing has changed, he he," Portia began. She handed the wine cooler to Hadley.
"I had my first girlfriend in second grade, and by the time I was in third grade, there was a group of us kissing and sucking boobies," said Portia. "My mother knew about it and told me all the other mothers may not approve and that we should, as girls, always be discrete. I frankly didn't get it; it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to like girls, kissing and hugging them. But I followed her direction, knowing she knew much more than me."
"I came out to my dad in sixth grade," said Portia. "When I told him I liked girls, he was upset and went to a hotel to sort things out. Eventually, he filed for a divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. He married some other woman. I guess I love him, but I don't need him if you catch my drift."
"Yes, I do, my lovely," said Hadley.
"I remember one girl in my circle whose mother embarrassed her in front of us when she caught five of us in the tree fort," said Portia. I was told she cried for a long time. She became gay anyway, just on the down low."
"But we didn't call it "gay" until Junior High when the boys started in on us. They turned a couple of us girls straight, but the rest of us kept meeting secretly in our bedrooms, listening to music and dancing. Our set grew, and soon it seemed that half the school was gay."
"By seventh grade, we were having sex, all kinds of sex. Instead of having one girlfriend, I had seven or so," said Portia. "I was promiscuous. When we gathered in my bedroom to dance and listen to music, my mother liked to come in and fondle us. She'd come into my room without a blouse and fully exposed breasts and played with the girls and let them play with her. She was the most popular mother, a real hit with all my friends."
"Before I forget, are most of the girls in your set still WLW?" asked Hadley.
"I believe, yes, they're all still gay," said Portia. "That would be an interesting research project. Anyway, in eighth grade, I fucked my mother, and she became my primary lover for almost a year. She's my best friend to this day, my biggest supporter outside of you. Of course, she found Joan, and they've been together since my junior year in high school."
"Your mom is just so cool," said Hadley. "I think my mother is too. Don't you think?"
"100%. I love your mom," said Portia. "I love it when we're together with her and Joan. For women in their fifties, they have beautiful bodies and such strong libidos. They are really something."
"Funny, those are my mothers' exact words for you: `really something'."
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