Chapter 8

Buttercup's skills extended far beyond the sensual as Sharon and Tracey became increasingly aware as they continued their tramp through the woods. It was she who told them how to orientate their progress on the map by reference to the position of the Sun and its height in the sky. This meant that they were able to get further away from the wall, which, as Buttercup reminded them, was probably not very safe when there was almost certainly a hunt being organises for her. "They wouldn't like to encourage others to escape, if they knew they could get away with it," she commented. Despite their desperation, Buttercup's presence somehow lifted both the girls' spirits, although it was clear that she responded positively to Tracey's more unambiguous attraction to her. She took Tracey's hand in hers (something no man or woman had ever done in her all her years of love-making) and squeezed it occasionally in a reassuring way as they walked under the overhanging branches and avoided nettles and bracken. Sharon accepted this reluctantly, but as she reminded herself as she watched her best friend and her new lover gaily swinging their arms from clasped hands, it was cock not cunt she relished. Even when she responded with a faint tingle when Buttercup occasionally touched her arm or kissed her encouragingly on the cheek.

The trek through the woods seemed to go on longer than either Sharon or Tracey had anticipated, but then neither of them had had much experience of, or previous inclination towards, either map-reading or walking. In fact, it was clear that they were actually making faster progress with Buttercup than they were before. They were having fewer rests and they seemed to have gained new energy to stride forward faster and further than previously. As the night drew in, they actually found a deserted cottage which seemed suitable for them to rest the night. This would be luxury compared to where they'd been sleeping the last few nights, even though it was in a very dilapidated state. Half the cottage was totally collapsed and less than half of its roof was in any sense intact. However, it kept the night chill away from the girls' bare flesh: especially Buttercup who didn't even have as much as a blouse to keep her warm. They made space for themselves in the weeds and rubble of what were once rooms and watched the shadows lengthen as day came rather abruptly to a close.

It was now that Buttercup's skills as a gardener came to the fore as she somehow managed to locate some potatoes, carrots, turnips and other vegetables that were still growing in the abandoned ruins of what had once been a vegetable garden. Many of these were vegetables neither Sharon nor Tracey would ever have considered eating before. They looked so bland and not usually found on pizzas or inside burgers, but now they seemed like the most perfect food in the world. Soon all three girls were resting together in the shadows of the trees cast by the half moon, sitting down in front of a fire of twigs and small branches started by Tracey's cigarette lighter in which roasted the vegetables that Buttercup had tugged out of the ground and had prepared with some sharp stones. Sharon sat slightly to one side enjoying the warmth given off by the flames, while Tracey and Buttercup lay together.

When the food was ready, it tasted better to the girls than the most delicious fried chicken or doner kebab had ever done before. Better even than a chicken chow mein with sweet and sour sauce, or a chicken vindaloo. It was also probably the plainest food they'd ever eaten. No ketchup, vinegar, mayonnaise or even salt. But after such a poor diet to which they'd become accustomed, Sharon and Tracey felt somehow invigorated and energised. And it was clear from the bright sparkle in Tracey's eyes that this new vigour and energy was to be directed towards one particular object.

Buttercup, as always, needed no prompting. After allowing sufficient time for the food to sink into their system, she crawled on her hands and knees towards Tracey, who was grinning in a curiously stupid fashion, and gently pinched the folds of her vagina with the forefingers of her right hand. Tracey moaned in a strangely full-throated way, and gracefully parted her legs so that Buttercup could swivel round and engage more fingers and her tongue on the scarred and embattled terrain of her cunt. She sank back onto her elbows, her head back, staring up at the half moon through the tangled shadows of the overhanging trees, while Buttercup expertly massaged, licked and caressed her sensitive and, oh so tender!, erogenous zones towards further gasps of unrestrainable pleasure and near ecstasy.

Sharon sat cross-legged watching her best friend make love to someone else. Not for the first time, of course, but usually it had been some hairy-arsed, winnets-blessed man, with saliva dripping from his lower lip and a prick that usually either came to soon or never got really stiff enough. Sharon was aware that she was beginning to get jealous of the growing friendship between her closest friend and this beautiful naked girl, but there was no denying that Buttercup's presence was undoubtedly a good thing. She was helping the two friends navigate through the woods, keeping up their otherwise dejected spirits and was decidedly more practical-minded than either of them were.

Sharon watched as Tracey responded to Buttercup's advances and returned them by crawling underneath her body and taking the lips of Buttercup's vagina in her teeth. Tracey had never experimented with this sexual position of mutual oral sex before. Blow jobs usually just led to fucking. No blokes, until she'd come to Buggery, had ever shown any interest in putting their tongues to her cunt. Perhaps it was the smell of fish and piss that put them off, she wondered. But now this wonderful woman with a supermodel body was tonguing her liked she'd never been tongued before, and as she climaxed urgently, passionately, and loudly, she knew that her own reciprocation had really been clumsy and awkward. She definitely needed more practise. She collapsed in exhaustion. All the passion had exhausted her small reservoir of energy, and she huddled in Buttercup's comforting sun-tanned arms.

Sharon smiled at the two of them, too tired and disorientated to resent Tracey's sexual selfishness. And anyway Tracey had been gagging for it all day. Sharon was still a little uneasy about making love to a woman. Where was the cock in that? Buttercup smiled back at Sharon and ran her tongue over her lips, clearly advertising her continued availability. Sharon was just not interested, which was unusual for her.

Somehow or other, conversation began about Tracey and Sharon's life before they'd come to Buggery. Buttercup listened to their account of life back home, and seemed to find it tremendously exotic and even bizarre. The very concept of night-clubs and pubs took some explaining. The girls' accounts of their sexual exploits didn't impress her at all, however. Buttercup didn't find anything very adventurous or exciting in their tales about making love to several men at the same time, having both anal and vaginal intercourse simultaneously, losing your knickers on the train or being found by your parents with a boy's prick in your mouth.