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Wish Fulfilment

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It’s a few minutes before Bernie begins to gather her now rather scattered wits. She wipes the tears escaping from her eyes away – carefully ensuring she uses the back of her hand that isn’t covered in lubricant.

“Sorry.” she says, looking sheepish, but her eyes are those of a Labrador who knows they’ve made a mistake and are hoping their cuteness will get them out of trouble. “I really don’t know what I was thinking. The words just came out.”

“You’ve clearly been spending too much time at the hospital.” Serena states. Her voice sounds quite firm, but her twinkling eyes and laughter softened mouth betray the fact that she’s finding the whole thing rather funny.

With a sense of relief that Serena can see the comic side and is clearly not going to hold the momentary lapse against her, Bernie takes a deep breath and attempts to ‘get back into character’.


“Now. Where were we?” she asks. It’s a feeble and cliched attempt, but it is al least an attempt. Serena picks up on what Bernie is trying to do and has rather more success with he retort.

“I think I was somewhere about here...” she purrs, low and husky, as she makes a seductive show of elongating her exposed body and settling back into the position Bernie had left her in. The whole thing is designed to make Bernie go weak at the knees, and it works – metaphorically. Bernie is going to need strong knees.


Having successfully put the bout of laughter behind them they’re both ready to pick up where they’d left off. Bernie, who somehow still has ample lube on her fingers, reaches forwards and slips her fingers into Serena’s folds.

“I don’t really think, after all that, you really need this lube, do you. I think you’re more than wet enough already.” Bernie says in the same calm tone she’d used before. Serena responds with a mewl and a tiny flicker of movement in her hips. She’d slipped back into the intended mood of the evening as easily as Bernie’s lubed fingers have slipped inside her.


Serena feels good on Bernie’s fingers. She always does. Bernie could happily spend hours lost inside her. She frequently does. It’s not the plan for the rest of this evening though. Bernie knows she’d going to have to stop before too long – but she decides that she can allow herself a moment more to savour what she’d currently doing. After all, she does have to make sure that – after their impromptu interruption, that Serena is fully prepared and ready for what’s to come.


“I don’t think I really need to bother with the lube.” Bernie tells Serena as her fingers work their magic inside her. “I think our new toy is going to just slip right inside you, deep inside you. You’re so wet you might not even feel it go in. I hope you do though. I hope you feel every inch of it as it fills you up, as it stretches you. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on all that lovely sensation. With me behind you I think I can get it further inside you than I could before. It’s a better angle, you see. Do you want me to try?”


Serena, who has been listening intently to every word that has fallen from her partners lips, is struggling to keep herself still and in place. Her breathing has become ragged and slightly shallow. She’s learnt (and managed to remember) that tonight when Bernie asks her questions she’s looking for spoken answers formed of clear words.
“Yes. Yes I want you to try,” she tells Bernie, impressed at how clear the words sound given the delicious things Bernie is currently doing with her fingers inside her.


“Good girl.” Bernie tells her. “I knew you’d get the hang of using your words eventually. As a reward I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you long and slow, and hard and fast. I’m going to fill you full and leave you empty. I’m going to make you feels so good that you’re going to beg me to stop because it’s too much, and then you’re going to beg me to keep going. And then, when I’m good and ready, and when you can’t take any more, I’m going to make you cum on my strap harder than you’re ever cum before.” Serena’s only response was a groan. She knows that Bernie is very likely to deliver exactly what she’s promised.


Much to Serena’s dismay Bernie’s next move is to remove her fingers. Serena feels more bereft by their loss than she thinks she should. She doesn’t have much time to consider it too deeply because Bernie’s fingers are swiftly replaced by the end of the strap, slippery with lube, nudging at her entrance.
Bernie has stepped up behind Serena. She’s grasping the base of the strap for better control. She wants as much control as she can get for what she has in mind. For the moment, though, she’s happy to tease Serena a little. She’s happy to watch her fingers tighten their hold on the edge of the desk as she tries to stop herself pushing backwards and sinking the strap deep inside her as she so wants to. Bernie is happy to content herself watching the twitched of the muscles in Serena’s arms and back as she struggles with the effort of keeping herself in check.


Bernie lets her nudging become more persistent, more focused, until, eventually she lets the very tip slide into Serena. Serena gasps at the welcome intrusion.


Slowly, oh so slowly, Bernie slides the strap into Serena. Millimetre by individual millimetre – or so it feels to Serena. A truly glacial pace. Painfully slow. It takes some time for Bernie to work the whole length of the strap into Serena. When, finally, she’s sunk it as far as Serena can comfortably take it, Serena sags into the desk. The tension of the anticipation leaves her body. She’s barely had a chance to adjust to the feeling of fullness the length of the strap is giving her, and the delightful stretch its girth is causing before Bernie rapidly withdraws it.


Serena moans her loss, an inarticulate complaint against the sudden deprivation. Bernie says nothing, just nudges the tip of the strap against Serena’s entrance and repeats the same slow, exquisitely tantalising ingress. Bernie repeats the move, a slow working of her way in and a rapid and sudden retreat, another four times before Serena can’t take the teasing any more.


“Please.” she says in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper.

“Please what?” Bernie asks, not deviating from the slow and steady forward motion of hips. Serena knows that once again Bernie is going to make her say it, is going to make her
spell out exactly what she wants. Serena’s never been one to keep quiet about what she wants in the bedroom (or where ever else they happen to be availing themselves of), but she’s never been quite this explicit and direct in the way she’s expressed her needs. She’s finding it hard to spell things out so exactly. It’s strangely awkward and liberating in equal measure.

“I want you to fuck me.” she tells Bernie

“I am fucking you Serena. Can’t you feel me inside you? Isn’t my strap getting you even wetter and even more turned on? What, exactly, do you want me to do?”

“Faster.” Serena says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Just faster?” Bernie queries.

“Harder. Please fuck me harder.” Serena all but begs.

“Whatever the lady wants.” Bernie confirms with a grin that Serena is facing the wrong way to see. She decides that Serena has begged enough for one night. It’s time to let her have what she wants. It’s time to focus on making her cum.


Bernie moves forward slightly and shifts her stance so she’s got as much control over her hips as possible. She builds up the pace slowly, each thrust following faster and harder on the tails of the previous one. Serena is moaning her approval. The noises she is making becoming more and more guttural with every movement of the strap inside her. Bernie starts by keeping up a constant narrative for Serena; describing what she’s doing to her, what she’d going to do to her, asking if it’s what she wants, if it’s hard enough, if it’s fast enough asking if she wants more. She takes every noise Serena makes as an affirmation.


Eventually the pace Bernie sets becomes too much for casual conversation. Forgoing words, Bernie puts her hands on Serena’s hips and uses them to anchor and steady herself. She starts to pull back on Serena’s hips at the peak of every thrust, utilising the way the cushion slides on the desk, to pull Serena onto the strap. The first time she does it Serena’s back arches off the table and she screams “Fuck!” in pained pleasure. As her back eases down again she raises her feet so she’s on tip toes to give Bernie a better angle. From there on in she doesn’t think much, she just feels


Bernie, behind her, is focused on increasing the speed and getting the depth of penetration deep enough to satisfy, but not so deep it causes discomfort. She’s concentrating hard and has managed to build up a quite impressive speed – which she knows she won’t be able to keep up for long. At the same time she’s aware that Serena is trembling beneath her, her muscles tense and straining and she knows that it won’t be long before her orgasm crashes over her. Spurred on to new efforts Bernie speeds up, putting the last of her energy into getting Serena over the line. In return for her all but frantic efforts Bernie is treated to a litany of moans and exclamations from Serena, getting progressively closer together and louder. She can’t add much more in the way of action, but Bernie thinks she can manage some vocal encouragement.


“I want you to cum for me Serena.” she says, somewhat breathlessly – which serves to make her voice even more sultry than it usually was. “I want you to cum so hard. I want you to cum now Serena. I want you to cum for me now.” The words prove too much for Serena. She lets out a long, sustained “oh” a primal noise from somewhere deep inside her soul, and her body bows up from the desk. Rigid in pleasure as she’s engulfed by a huge orgasm almost summoned on demand by Bernie.


Bernie stills herself inside Serena and takes in every detail of Serena’s climax: the whiteness of her knuckles as she clings to the desk, the way her body shudders, the flickering of her muscles as the waves of orgasm give way to gentler aftershocks, the delicious warmth she’s radiating, the way her chest shudders with ragged breath. Bernie can feel the gentle tug on the strap as Serena’s internal muscle contract around it in pleasure.


As Serena’s body calms all her muscles start to relax and she seems to slump into the desk. Carefully Bernie slips the strap out of Serena, eliciting nothing more than than a small whimper from the exhausted and spent (yet happy) woman on the desk. It’s the work of moments for Bernie to remove the strap from the harness and drop it in the box she’d earlier tucked under the desk for just this purpose. That done she’s able to give her full attention to Serena.


Serena is rather pleased that she’s currently sprawled over the desk because she’s certain that her legs aren’t going to be able to hold her up any time soon. She’s just as certain that she’s not going to test that hypothesis because she’s absolutely spent and the mere thought of moving is almost too exhausting in itself. For the moment she’s happy to stay exactly where she is, in the hope that after three orgasms Bernie is finished with her. If she’s not, Serena is not sure she has another orgasm in her tonight. She’s not sure that another orgasm wouldn’t completely finish her.


Bernie isn’t planning any further amorous adventures tonight. She can see all too clearly that Serena has given all she’s got. Leaning forward over Serena’s prone body she plants a gentle, soothing, kiss on the nape of Serena’s neck and trails another batch along her exposed shoulder blade before gently pulling the slipped fabric of her dress back into place over her shoulder and resting her hand on the top of Serena’s arm.


“If I help you, do you think you could get up?” she ask, her voice full of care and concern.

“I think so.” Serena tells her, rather unconvincingly.

“Well, lets try starting with these hands.” Bernie suggests as she reaches forwards and uncurls the fingers of Serena’s right hand from their tight grip on the edge of the desk,
moving them back down the desk so her elbows ended almost at right angles with her shoulders. She gives the hand a gentle squeeze before she lets go and repeats the gesture with the other hand. She’s slow, cautious and considerate and the effect is calming. Serena’s breaths, shallow in the immediate aftermath of pleasure, are deepening and slowing down, her heart rate is no longer racing – except back down towards a normal range. The tension has seeped out of her muscles, leaving her languid and relaxed.


With great tenderness Bernie pulls the material of Serena’s skirt from around her waist where it had gathered and drapes it back over her buttock and thighs, restoring some semblance of order to the very dishevelled Serena.

“Are you ready to try to stand?” Bernie asks.

“As long as you’re there to catch me.” Serena tells her.

“Always.” Bernie states firmly with more meaning than a random throw away comment should have. “Let’s give it a go.” Serena slides herself back on the pillow and off the desk.
Bernie’s strong arms catch her round the waist as she stands, holding her close, holding her up.


“Think you’re up to walking to the sofa? Bernie asks. Serena nods and Bernie grins at her in reply. Carefully she turns Serena in her arms until she’s facing the sofa and Bernie is stood at her side, arms still enfolding her. It’s five or six steps at the most to the far side of the sofa, which is where Bernie is steering Serena. Their progress isn’t fast or elegant but they make it there in one piece. Bernie sinks down onto the sofa, pulling Serena down with hers so she ends up sat in her lap but still entwined in her arms. Loosening her grip slightly, Bernie reaches down the side of the sofa’s arm and finds the bottle of water she’d left there earlier. Deftly unscrewing the top she offers the bottle wordlessly to Serena, who drinks from it hungrily. When she’s sated her thirst Bernie takes the bottle from her, takes a sip herself and replaces it safely on the floor.

“OK?” She asks Serena as she winds her arms tightly around her.

“Very much so.” Serena says as she relaxes back into the embrace and into Bernie. Bernie takes the opportunity to press a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Was it what you wanted?” Bernie asks, much less confident than she had been earlier this evening. Serena turns her head slightly so that she’s looking her partner directly in the eye, and, summoning her scattered wits and the limited amount of energy she has left, says with determination and conviction

“It was everything I wanted and more. Thank you.” A smile breaks across Bernie’s face. There’s relief in it, absolutely, but also genuine pleasure. Serena smiles back at her. For a moment they both sit, bundled together, grinning at each other – but then it gets a little too uncomfortable for Bernie, who breaks eye contact, turns her head away and then looks back at Serena from behind the safety of her fringe

“I…, I em.. think I might have something else you might like.” She offers almost uncertainly

“Darling. I’m completely ‘shagged out’ as I believe the term is. So, if you were thinking of going another round then I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I’ll have to take a rain check. If, on the other hand, other hand, you happen to have a large bottle of shiraz in the vicinity, I wouldn’t say no.”


Bernie reaches back down the side of the sofa arm and retrieves a mini bottle of shiraz containing about a glass and a half of wine.

“Not a large one, no. But this might keep you going.” Bernie has barely finished speaking before Serena plants a kiss on her lips.

“You really have thought of everything tonight, haven’t you?” Serena tells Bernie affectionately.

“Not quite.” Bernie says as she unscrews the bottle’s cap. “I forgot the glasses.” Serena laughs loudly, takes the bottle Bernie is now offering her and takes a long, thirsty gulp straight from the neck. Immediately she’s finished drinking she plants another, deeper, kiss on Bernie’s lips, letting her taste hints of wine left in her mouth.

“I think I’ll find a way to manage, just this once.” she says, beaming at Bernie before she snuggles back down into her arms.


Bernie pulls the blanket on the back of the sofa over Serena, realising that her dress is still hanging open, and that it won’t do much to keep Serena warm as both the day’s temperature and the heat of passion fade away. She lets her hand idly rub Serena’s back soothingly as they settle back down.


Revived a little by the wine Serena hooks her finger in the top button of of Bernie’s waistcoat.

“I must say that it turns out I’m quite the fan of making fantasies come true. If there’s a way I can return the favour, as it were, and make one of your fantasies come true….” she tails off leaving the offer open in the air between them.

“Oh! I don’t... I mean I haven’t….” Bernie starts to protest, but the bright red colour flaming on her cheeks gives the game away.

“There is, isn’t there?” Serena says, just a little too gleefully.

“No, really...” Bernie claims, but Serena fixes her with a raised eye brow.

“Obviously, you don’t have to tell me and I absolutely respect that, but it’s clear there’s something. If you’re worried that I might laugh or judge you – well I’m hardly in a position to after tonight. And I wouldn’t anyway.” Bernie looks up at Serena, sees the kindness and understanding her eyes and decides to throw both caution and good old British resolve to the wind and says

“Have you ever seen a programme called Chandler and Co? Because one of the lead characters looks very much like you….”