Just June (and Pixie too) Ch. 01

[This series follows on from the "Just June" series, and I am indebted to my darling June for her love and the inspiration she is to me].

"So, what do you think? Should I?"

Pixie smiled at June's obvious pleasure in the email she had received. It took her back a few months to when they had started up the Artworks Café project.

The idea was simple enough. Set up a café where, in addition to good coffee and home-baked food, classes could take place for those interested in painting, pottery and weaving. Add to that regular "after-school" sessions for mums and toddlers, and rent out space in the former warehouse to the local university for the Arts to allow space for creative arts, to provide a regular income stream, and then work hard, and away they had gone.

For Pixie, the project had a number of purposes, but only one was the real driver. At a crossroads in her life, she had been lucky enough to meet June. On the surface it was, as June was wont to point out, the most unlikely of relationships. Pixie came from an upper-class background, worked in academia, and lived in London. June was, in her own words, a simple working-class girl who had never been to college, considered herself ill-educated and lived in the North of England. Pixie was on the small side of petite and a lesbian. June was a foot or so taller, and (though she denied it) rather beautiful and had experience of both sexes. What united them might well have been what would have divided any other couple - they both tended towards being submissive in matters sexual. But such had been the connection between them that, from the very start, such categorisations did not matter. Each had an instinct for what the other needed. That instinct was informed and enriched by their mutual love.

For quite different reasons, both women had a problem with being loved, and, unexpectedly, and to their evident mutual surprise (and pleasure), each provided the other with what had been lacking.

Although her perfect upper-class manners and exquisite politeness disguised it, Pixie had always felt the odd one out. That was not altogether surprising. Appearances matter, and Pixie was only four foot eight inches tall. Her size was the result of a genetic problem which had seen her stop growing at the age of twelve. Among its effects was an imperfect puberty which created problems sexually and, allied with her own consciousness of her physical limitations, her sexual and social development had been, as she would put it, "different." This, June had discovered, was what she called "Pixiespeak." That meant a form of understatement which combined self-deprecation with defensiveness.

There had been, and still were, times when it infuriated June, who hated to see her lover putting herself down. So, what if Pixie's tits were "bee-stings?" June rather liked her small breasts, and enjoyed the effects that her playing with them had on her lover. Size was unimportant. It was what was inside you that mattered - and anyway, as she was fond of pointing out, they were the same size when lying together in bed.

In June, Pixie had found something she had neither expected to find - love.

Pixie found in June's putting herself down, a parallel which reminded her of herself. June's favourite phrase was that she was "just June." By this this she meant to convey that she was "nothing special." Pixie was less inclined to outspokenness than her lover. Her way had always been the diplomatic one. She used to tell her Mama that one caught more bees with honey than with vinegar, a comment which might have caused anyone less self-confident than her formidable mother to think about her tendency to put people down. She found June's forthrightness both refreshing and mildly challenging. But she would, and did, challenge her when she put herself down. "Don't you go dissing the love of my life," she would say, which always produced a smile from June.

Pixie's evident faith in her abilities slowly began to rub off on June, who, somewhat to her own surprise, turned out to be an excellent Manager of their joint project. The course she went on by way of preparation was something she had dreaded, but, to Pixie's total want of amazement, June had done well. It was, June thought, good to have someone who believed in her - even if Pixie was biased in her favour.

But, as Pixie said, being "biased was not the same as being wrong!"

The Artwork café project had allowed Pixie to relocate to be with June. After some time in academia, Pixie would have been happy to have continued, but could see the obvious problems in running a long-distance relationship. The philistinism of the times had, unexpectedly, come to her rescue. Her university, like so many others, was looking to save money by cutting back on the Humanities, and Pixie had decided to take a generous voluntary severance deal which, along with her own resources, and the income from letting her London flat, provided the finances for her new project. That June had experience in management and the hospitality sector, meant that their partnership could combine business with pleasure.

The first few months had been exciting, if a little nerve-wracking. But Pixie's university contacts and the deals with the creative arts faculty of the local uni, had provided regular funding, which gave the time and space for the other sides of the business to grow.

To June's evident surprise, but extreme pleasure, Pixie had turned out to have a good eye for what her market wanted, even if, as she would tease her, she could not actually count. Pixie loved baking and her products made the café itself a success. To Pixie's utter lack of surprise, but equally evident pleasure, June not only proved a success in helping manage the business, but found another outlet for her talents. That was why she was so pleased by the email June had just received.

Pixie remembered the first time. Dr Dawn had approached her after a class and asked whether June had ever done any modelling. The answer had been in the negative, but that had not stopped Dr Dawn from asking Pixie whether June might be willing to help her fashion students by modelling some of their designs.

"Me?" June had looked at her lover as though she had taken leave of her senses. But Pixie could be persuasive.

She had picked her moment well.

"Yes, you, darling - it's not as though they'd see you like this," Pixie said, to her lover, who was lying back on the bed with her legs open whilst she ate her out.

"I should hope not, this is just for you!"

Lapping her wetness, Pixie looked up, wet-faced, and said:

"You are beautiful darling, and anyway, you'd be doing them a favour."

As her lips fastened on June's clitoris, the lovers had moved into their realm of pleasure; but Pixie had planted a seed.

It was not just that June's taste delighted Pixie (though it did), the pleasure she gave her lover added hugely to her own. It was not, as it had once been with others, that she was delighted to give sexual pleasure, though that was there, what gave intensity to it was that it was a part of their love.

For Pixie, whose thought world was populated by her vast reading, Shakespeare's Sonnet 129, had been a source of caution and wisdom. "Lust in action"--that is, as it exists at the consummation of the sexual act-- was characterised by him as an "expense of spirit in a waste of shame." And so it had been for her - before June. With June it became a fertile part of their life together, an act enjoyable for itself, but more so because of the context where it nourished their spirits.

June, whose imagination tended toward the more practical, had, nonetheless, understood instinctively that what she and Pixie shared was mutually nourishing. She might not have had the fancy words for it that her lover had, but being "just June," she understood - as Pixie did too. Not that it occurred to either of them in the heat of the moment, although they both knew that the mutuality of that passion and its wider effect on them was what added fuel to the fire of their lover-making.

For Pixie it was as though in lapping June's juices, she was drinking her very essence. It was the closeness, the spiritual union of the lovers which gave her such ecstatic feelings. What she gave to June, June shared with her. It was the ultimate virtuous erotic circle.

In pouring her attention on her lover, Pixie knew that she was adding a crucial part of what made them a couple. Their lovemaking had about it a joyous quality, and Pixie delighted, as did June, in knowing those little things which pleased her lover most.

June had known, instinctively, that penetration was not high on Pixie's list of wants, but as well as respecting that, she had gradually coaxed her, finding what aroused her to the stage where penetration was easier for her, thus adding to Pixie's pleasure.

Reciprocally, Pixie had intuited that for June something she herself would not want, was a way of taking her to the pinnacle of orgasm, and so she had perfected the art of fisting her lover to take her to the ecstatic climax which she so wanted her to enjoy.

Put thus baldly, absent the context of the fire of their lovemaking, that could sound as though each made concessions to the needs of the other, but it was quite otherwise in context. In giving, each received far more than she gave, and the intimacy thus engendered gave to their orgasms a depth which neither would have believed possible.

So, as June urgently pushed herself against Pixie's questing tongue, the message was received. Pixie, sensing, then feeling, that her lover was flexible enough, made a small fist, and carefully opened her up, causing June to moan loudly.

"Oh geeez, geeez, Pix, what you do to me!"

And as Pixie twisted her fist and began to move in and out, she added fuel to the flames of June's passion.

"Who owns you, slut?"

"Geeze, YOU do Miss, you do, I am yours!"

"My what?" Pixie teased, fisting faster, deeper, and harder.

"Your rough Northern tart, your slut, oh Pix, yes, yes, that, oh!"

And June's replies were swallowed up in the orgasm that overtook her as her pussy gripped Pixie's wrist.

"I love you, June," Pixie whispered, as her lover began to recover.

"Oh, Pix, I love you too! You are so naughty!"

Pixie looked up from between June's thighs:

"You're one to talk after that spanking you gave me last time!"

June grinned at the memory.

"And don't you forget it, my girl!"

"As if, Miss," Pixie grinned.

And that was them. The ecstasy was accompanied by laughter.

It was only the following morning that Pixie reverted to the topic of June doing some modelling for Dr Dawn.

"What do you mean, darling, I'd be doing them a favour?"

"Well, they are fashion students, and they need striking models to show their clothes off to their best advantage, so I am not surprised that Dr Dawn has asked if you'd do it."

"What would it involve?"

June's question had led her to a discussion with Dr Dawn and a subsequent meeting with her students, and June, always happy to help, took pity on them and agreed to do some modelling. Modest though she was about her looks, she had to admit that, in her words, she made a "good clothes horse."

The students took to June - as most people did once they got to know her, and in turn, June found, to her surprise, that they were not the stuck up, naive bunch she had sometimes imagined. That had led to the end of year fashion show, which had been covered by the regional press. That, in turn, had led to the email which June had received.

"But can they mean it, darling?" June showed the email to Pixie, who read it carefully.

"Dear Miss Peters,

We were very impressed with the shots taken of you at the Northeast Fashion Week, and as an agency, we are always on the look out for new and exciting talent. We'd love to talk to you and take some shots of you to see whether you would fit with our Portfolio. We'd be happy to pay a small fee and provide a week-end break for you and a partner in return. If you are interested, please ring us at the number below."

Pixie smiled.

"Only you would ask that. Why don't you let me, as your Manager, give the Agency a ring?"

"Pix, you do know who that Agency deals with?"

"No, of course not, that's your department."

"Kate blooming Moss, among others. This is mad. How can they want a rough Northern tart like me?"

"Oh," Pixie giggled, "you think I am alone in my taste for juicy Northern tarts?"

"You know what I mean, and anyway, sex-mad, you need to be at the café within the hour."

"Yes, Boss," Pixie laughed. "But seriously, why not ring them and find out? What's the worst that can happen? An all-expenses weekend in London and few photos?"

June pondered Pixie's words after she had gone. She was right, of course, what was there to lose? Of course, they would discover that she was not what they were looking for, but she was prepared for that. For the rest, yes, it would be nice to have a break with Pixie. She could get one of the assistants to manage the Café for the weekend.

And that was how, two weeks later, the lovers found themselves travelling First Class to London, with a suite at the St Pancras at the end of the line.

The closer they got to London, the more June wondered what on earth she thought she was doing. She had not wanted to disappoint Pixie, but maybe it would be even worse when the Agency rejected her? Realising June's state of mind, for once Pixie stopped the endless flow of chatter with which she was wont to regale her lover, and contented herself with holding her hand and ordering cups of tea.

They got to the Agency for two o'clock. June took a deep breath, but the woman at reception put her at her ease, and the Assistant who had written to her proved to be a nice woman who was able to calm her fears.

"June? So nice to meet you at last. Gosh, you are even more gorgeous than the photos suggested. Is this your partner?"

June recovered her manners.

"Yes, this is Pixie, my partner, is it okay if she stays?"

It was.

For the next two hours Pixie watched with interest as June modelled various outfits. It was clear to her, as she told June later, that the Agency thought she had the legs and bum to show off shorts, short skirts, and sexy dresses to their best advantage. In the Louboutin heels provided, June made a striking figure, and Pixie had no doubt as to the outcome.

At the end, they were offered afternoon tea while the Assistant went to consult her Boss. It did not take long. Her Boss, a tall woman with dark hair, was smiling broadly, and in a pronounced American accent said:

"June, you're a natural!"

The tea was replaced by champagne, and within the hour, June found herself signed up.

Katie Evans, the Boss, was so pleased that she gave June the shoes and a couple of the outfits as a bonus, and it was plain to see that she was delighted.

Maybe it was the champagne, or perhaps it was the excitement, or a mixture of both, but by the time they left the Agency, June was feeling decidedly light-headed. Pixie hugged her tight, her face ending, as always, in her lover's cleavage.

"Well done my love!"

"Fluke!" June said. "They will soon find they have made a mistake."

"Tosh!" Pixie replied.

"We'll see about that!" June said.

Once they got back to their suite she was as good as her word.

"Did you really think I was good?" June asked.

"Of course, but you're hopeless in seeing what others see."

"Oh," she teased, "you like that Kate was perving on me then?"

"Was she? I did not notice."

"Pixie H, you are a bad liar, I could see the look on your face."

"Oh, could you?" Pixie teased back, "I thought your eyes were fixed on her tits."

"Right, little Madam, that's it, over my knee, now!"

Pixie grinned from ear to ear - her tactic had worked.

She did not need telling twice, and placed herself across June's lap, flipping her skirt up.

"Why on earth do you wear tights, Pix?"

June's dislike of tights was famous.

"So you can have the pleasure of taking them down, of course!"

June grinned, and pulled Pixie's tights and panties down to expose her cute bum for the spanking she clearly wanted. It was not something June, whose own tendencies were towards submission, had ever seen herself as doing, but the evident pleasure it gave Pixie transmitted itself to her.

June pulled Pix over her knee.

Smack...."you"...."ouch"

Smack.... "are"...."ouch"

Smack.... "a"...."ouch"

Smack.... "naughty"...."ouch"

Smack.... "girl"..."ouch"

Smack...... "but...."ouch"

Smack...... "I love you!"...."ouuuuccchhhh."

She watched with delight as Pixie responded, and applied three more hard smacks to her already pink cheeks, before pulling her tights and panties off. She could smell Pix's nectar leaking from between her thighs, so just squeezed her hand between her thighs:

"Oh now what do we have here? You are such a little perv!"

Pix whimpered, moaning louder when June's fingers probed her wetness, causing her muscles to tighten.

Taking her hand away she placed her fingers in her mouth and sucked.

"You taste so good darling."

June looked down, kissed the two, now red cheeks, and eased her tongue between them, just touching Pix's dark hole but not invading - at least not with her mouth or tongue.

Her fingers teased to Pix's clit, flicking it, just squeezing it between her fingers and slightly pulling it, controlling her lover who was moaning with the pleasure June was giving her.

Gently, June slid two fingers inside Pixie's wet pussy - so wet it squelched. She pushed deeper, her thumb rubbing Pix's clit, and her lips kissing her bum. Pixie was, June knew, approaching the point of no return. In that case, she grinned to herself, time to take her to where they both wanted her to go.

"Who owns you?"

"You do June, I am yours."

As Pix moaned, June pumped her fingers in faster and faster, deeper, twisting them and saying:

"Yes, you are MINE - all MINE."

Pushing in and out faster and faster, as June stroked her bum, Pox moaned.

"Ahh, ahhhhh, Yesssss!"

The intensity stronger as Pix suddenly shuddered, an intense spasm overtaking her body as she climaxed, gushes of nectar squirted over June's hand.

She gave out another loud cry as a second spasm hit. June felt a small orgasm of her own, so intense was the pleasure.

For a moment she looked at Pixie, and then, as though the same spirit moved them both, Pixie slid off, rubbed her bum and kissed June on the lips, tasting herself.

"You understand me as no one ever has. I love you."

June looked at her.

"I know. And I love you more!"

"I know," Pixie smiled. "Bedtime?"

June smiled.

"Thought you'd never ask! Come here!"