The sheets were linen and ironed smooth. Cool against the skin. As the room was quite warm, she had decided to sleep naked. Besides, she thought as she lay close to slumber, the dried sweat and secretions of her masturbation smelled, and she hesitated to stain her hostess nightgown. She didn't mind her own smell. She liked it, in fact and so did everyone else, if, they were going to be honest with themselves.
As Arthur had once said, everyone is immune to his own farts. And the same is true for all smells of the body. Languidly, in the dark Emily sniffed her fingers and felt a minor rush of excitement in response to the smell of her cunt. What a nice smell it is after all! But we've been brainwashed today. We've been sold a bill of goods. The moguls of fashion and hygiene would have us do away with our darker, more sensual s ide. They would have us strip away our smells, our hair, our inelegant lumps and bumps. To make us fit their model of an inhuman, icy perfection they would take from us our sense of our own personal uniqueness. Arthur had once told her of a girl he knew who shaved her cunt. The idea! Where is the mystery in a twelve-year-old's cunt? Just a bare slit between the legs: nothing to it. But to have a thick and tempting bush to hide it under! Now there was something. There's some animal consciousness in that! Her fingers combed her own proud thatch as she thought these things. And now they even have sprays which take away that lovely smell and make everyone think you have a strawberry between your thighs. Okay for a kick maybe, but strawberries ought to s mell like strawberries. Cunt should smell like cunt. But then, she mused, I must be awfully conservative. She recalled the disappointing occasion when she had filled her vagina with M amp;M candies and then called upon Arthur to suck them back out. Maybe if they had been strawberries-or rosettes of cauliflower, South African rock lobster tails, who knows, something besides M amp;Ms. She might have been less mortified. The poor boob, he was astounded at her vulgarity. But maybe strawberries would have been the thing.
Maybe the Cunt Spray Kings did know something after all. Perhaps they should put out a line of seven flavors, one for each day: pomegranate, cantaloupe, coconut, grape-seedless of course-then prune, avocado, and back to strawberry on Sunday. Presto! Cunt de jour.
Suddenly, with a start, Emily realized that her mind must have been wandering.
What had she been thinking about? Well, no matter. She had been halfway to sleep there, and her mind had been drifting down byways of its own choosing, but a single, scintillating chord of distant music had pierced her consciousness and snapped her back to reality. She lay in her quiet bed and allowed her ears to float around the room, willing them to catch the sound once again. But it alluded her. No! There it was again. The cellar music, insistent, beating, playing upon her as sunlight does upon the night shut petals of a flower.
And as the flower opens itself to embrace the new experience, so Emily discovered herself bending over the well of the stairway, looking down three flights into darkness. She had hastily belted her robe about herself as she left the room. The corridor had been as silent as one might expect at two in the morning. And now the music played upon her pale face as it swelled up from below. There was seduction in it, even a hint of danger. But she was invisible, she realized, and she floated upon the music and the darkness down one flight and then another.
Dare she descend again? There would be people there. She stood in the entrance hall, surrounded by leering faces and polished bodies, and hovered between the future and the past. Had she retreated then, I would have nothing to tell about. She would have risen at a reasonable time, ridden with Adrian for an hour or two, been impressed by the estate, but in the end she would have driven off again, over the mountains and down to the plains. And that would have been the end. There would have been no change. Nothing would have been risked, and nothing, likewise, would have been won.
The house was empty save for the throb in its bowels. Her hand closed upon the knob. She turned it. She pulled it open. Down the stairs that Laura had descended she stealthily trod. Narrow steps, cellar steps, with walls on each side. And then the bottom. The walls turned left. The floor was thickly carpeted in red. The walls were red plush. The ceiling was black. Four candles in sconces gave wavering illumination. She walked toward a velvet curtain. Five steps, ten. Would anyone see her? Fifteen steps. She was almost there. Twenty steps, and her hands touched the curtain. It parted down the middle. She stuck her face close to the slit and looked: another hallway was all. Just like that she had already mastered. With mirrors on the walls this time, and more lights. She stepped through. The music must come from behind that next curtain. It was too loud now. She was near its source, she knew, and she was succumbing to its embrace. It curled around her, binding her with coil upon coil of its shiny rope, and dragged her slowly toward itself.
But Just then there came a shiver of girlish laughter, and the curtain at the end of her hallway parted. A pretty girl in green stepped through. But her face was turned to speak with someone behind her, and Emily had sprinted away like a foot runner from Thebes before she straightened again.
Emily's feet flew along the carpeted hallway. Would she reach the steps in time?
They were closer, closer, and she did, just. She leapt up them and was through the door and had shut it quietly before those following began to climb after her. She looked around frantically. The dimness of the library invited her. She dashed across the parquet entrance hall and was flashing behind the bulk of a long couch when her pursuers emerged. Apparently they did not see the flutter of her white robe, for they passed quite close beside her, the girl and a tall and hawklike man, laughing and chatting about a picnic which they were planning for the morrow.
Emily slumped against the back of the couch. Her heart beat frantically in her breast.
Adrenalin began to drain from her system, and she realized she was shivering. Weak and silly, she fought down an impulse to giggle.
And then a sound, a high, ululating, inhuman sound, soared through her brain from only inches away!
Emily was stricken with terror. Atavistically, all her hairs stood on end, and her nipples hardened to points. She nearly screamed. She dared neither breath nor move. Her heart thumped insanely and rushed so much blood to her head that she feared she might faint. And then the sound came again! But this time, after shuddering up and down the scale, it ended with a long, flailing "Yesssss."
And now Emily understood. On the other side of the couch behind which she had hidden, in the dimness of the library, someone was having an orgasm.
How ludicrous it all was! Here she sat, trembling with residual terror, while within a foot of her, people were involved in something extremely private from which they would eventually rise and discover her. They could hardly fail to do so. Unless they planned to spend the night in the library, they would have to pass her to leave. And then they would accuse her, rightfully, of being a voyeur, and she would be able to make but a flimsy defense, if indeed she could make any at all. It was remarkable that they had not already noticed her. But for her habit of silence, she might have groaned or giggled many times in the last two minutes. Thank God that she had not done so!
"Oh yesssss," came the voice again, a woman's. "Do that again."
"You like that, don't you?" It was a man. "your other hand now. Use both." Like that?
"just like that."
The voices ceased, and all that was left to be heard was the woman's heavy breathing.
With considerably shock, Emily suddenly realized that she was growing aroused.
There was something distinctly naughty about listening to this couple from so close a distance. Blood and moisture were again beginning to suffuse the aching membranes of her sex. But her position was precarious, and she could not linger on what she might see upon the other side of her couch. She doubted that she could slip away as quietly as she had come. Indeed, the floor creaked warningly as she shifted her weight. What could be done?
And then she noticed that this couch was lifted rather high off the carpet. It occurred to her that she might just be able to slip underneath it without disturbing its occupants. To alarm them would bring certain disaster, but if she were successful, they would undoubtedly leave without seeing her. The risk seemed worth the prize, and she lay down carefully.
There was-just barely room.
Though slightly dusty, her position was comfortable. She was warm, the carpet was soft. She could now enjoy the secret pleasure of listening to the lovemaking above her with its eroticism only slightly enhanced by the fear of discovery. She turned her face sideways, toward the front of the couch, and looked out into the dim room.
Immediately before her face a naked woman's leg descended to the floor. A man's lower body was crouched between this leg and another which she could barely see on his other side. He was bending sharply forward, and Emily was overcome by a terrific desire to see his cock. To her distress, the woman's leg, though it quivered and jumped about, remained in her line of vision.
"I love it with your tongue!"
"God, your cunt tastes good. I could just eat it forever."
"You may."
Emily's nipples were beginning to brush against the bottom of the couch. One half of her mind, remaining calm, was astounded that she could feel such arousal after the frenzied masturbation she had indulged, herself with only minutes ago. The other half, less self-conscious, was already beginning to surrender herself to the throes of more self-enjoyment.
"You're absolutely gushing."
"Tell me!"
"Your cunt is flowing with creamy juice, my darling, and I am licking it up with my tongue."
"Ohlhh!"
"I lick around your stiff clit. I take it between my lips and suck hard upon it."
"Yesssss!"
"I rub the top of it quickly back and forth with my tongue."
"Oh, I'm going to die!"
Emily knew just what to do. A little light work for idle fingers. Just lying here with nothing to do, ho hum. Might as well slide that hand down my belly. Might as well feel it slip inside the opening of my robe. And what have we here? A big, wide hill crowned with thick hair. Yes indeed. Strange that I should have all this hair here.
Better explore it, see what it's all about. Nice big patch of hair. Wonder what's on the other side. Ah, softer down here, wetter. Best stick a finger down there to see, best feel…
"Now raise your legs, darling. I want to suck your asshole."
"Oh, yes, please!"
The legs vanished, evidently propped upon his shoulders, and Emily had her first look at his cock. The organ was long, and thin, and very stiff. Even in the dim light, Emily could perceive that it was engorged as tightly as it could be. His knees were spread, and huge balls hung down to sway in their hairy sac. There was lots of hair on his body, a great thicket of it, out of which the quivering, tall cock stood up. Emily watched as a pearl of shimmering liquid seeped from the eye at its tip. The sight excited her terrifically, and she began masturbating in earnest.
"I love it when you do this."
"You have the prettiest asshole!"
"Mmmmmm. Stick it up again."
"Like that?"
"Your nose feels good against my cunt hole."
"Oh, I love this cunt!" She chuckled throatily. "I love it!" he repeated. "It loves you."
Emily was beginning to breathe more quickly, in time with the rubbing of her gummy fingers. She wondered whether she even cared any longer that she might be heard.
"Pretty asshole. Pretty, pretty asshole. How about a little finger in it? There! Oh, it's tight. There now. There it slides in. How does that feel?"
But the woman could not answer.
"Now I twist it a little, push it in farther, pull it out again. How's that, eh? Like that finger fucking your asshole?"
"Yesssss! Oh, stick something in my cunt too. Quick! Stick in some fingers. Pleaser "There now. There're some fingers in your cunt too. That better? How about another one? Want another finger in your hot cunt?"
Again, the question was rhetorical.
"There it goes! Ah, way deep up in your hot, hairy, juicy cunt!"
Only in her masturbatory imagination had Emily experienced sex as verbally as this.
Arthur had always been acutely silent, speaking only before and after. The way in which this man was making love with his voice as well as his fingers and tongue was uncannily intimate. She longed for it to be her cunt, her asshole, her big tits which the man spoke so lustfully about. She wanted to hear what a wet and bubbly cunt she had. She wanted him to tell her how it felt to have his fingers sunk in the tight and clinging hole of her ass.
"Now you're really fucking those fingers, aren't you? Fucking hard against that finger in your ass. Yes, darling, fuck my finger with your asshole. In and out. That's it! Fuck back at me. Fuck me with your pretty hole."
The couch was beginning to bounce as the woman slung her cunt and asshole against the man's prodding fingers, and with every bounce, her weight drove down upon Emily's wriggling body. Each bounce thrust Emily's hand harder against her straining cunt and mashed her tremendous breasts against her ribcage. It was almost like being fucked by the woman herself. The idea ignited Emily. Being fucked by the woman, fucked by a woman's fingers, by a woman's tongue. Tits, and a cunt!
Fucked by a cunt! A cunt pounding on hers. A cunt banging her, fucking her, fucking her until she came, and came, and came, and came against a cunt!
And now the woman fucking her broke off her climb long enough to gasp, "My clit.
Do my clit! Quick!"
"You do your own clit."
"Yes! I want to!"
"That's it. Make yourself feel good. Play with your slippery little clit. Make it feel so good."
"Oh, my clit. My clit!"
"And your asshole is much looser now. Want another finger in it? Hmmm? Want another finger fucking your asshole?"
"Yes-yes-yes-yes!"
"There now. Two fingers in your tight, sweaty asshole. Oh, they look so pretty, sliding in and out among your hairs."
Emily watched as another small droplet oozed from the tip of the man's taut cock.
His whole head was growing shiny as she watched and masturbated all the harder.
Instinctively, he was beginning to thrust his hips backwards and forwards, making fucking motions in the air, frantic for some friction against his bursting coc k. She wanted desperately to reach out and grab its burning length, to feel the great, wrenching bucks of his orgasm in her hands, but she contented herself with caressing it by eye, willing that he might somehow feel ghostly fingers upon him, willing that he might fuck his way to an orgasm right before her.
"Here. Taste my fingers. Taste your cunt juice on my hand. Yes, lick up your dribbling cunt-juice. Suck my fingers as you would my cock if it tasted of your cunt.
Suck my fingers while I fuck your asshole with my other hand."
"I taste so good!"
"A sweet cunt. A sweet, delicious cunt with lots of flowing juice to lick up."
"I wish I could eat myself!"
"You could eat someone else."
"I wouldn't dare."
"Yes, you would. Down cellar in the pit. How about it? Wouldn't you like to eat Laura down there? Eh? Suck on her great, flowing pussy, feel her thighs clutched against your cheeks, her hands pulling your head deeper against her. You'd like her cunt.
She loves to have it sucked, and chewed, and mashed against a woman's pretty face."
Emily, watching his cock, was nearly beside herself. Laura? Her elegant hostess?
That statuesque body contorted in lust? And what was this about the cellar? Laura in the cellar, sucking and fucking. Oh, a cunt! A cunt! Laura's cunt. Her fingers flew across her own tormented cunt.
"But I could never do that."
"Yes, my darling. You could. Think about it. Play- with your clit, and think about it.
You'd like to make love to her. You know you would. You'd like her big tits. You'd like to suck on her nipples and feel them getting hard in your mouth."
"Ohhh."
"See? I told you you'd like it. That's right. Lick your lips and think about those big tits."
"I like tits."
"Of course you do. And her cunt too. You'd like her big cunt too. You'd stick your pretty little face up into her great hairy crotch and lick up her cunt juice just as you're licking it off my fingers."
"Yes, ohhh, her cunt! Yes, her cunt! Eat me now and tell me about her cunt!"
"Pinch your nipples and pretend they're Laura's big tits you have in your hands."
"Are they much bigger than mine?"
"Yes. Big, and warm, and waiting for mouths to love them."
"I'd suck on her tits. I'd lick and kiss them all over. I'd press them against mine.
Would she suck mine?"
"She'd do anything you wanted."
"I'd make her suck mine for a long time. I like having them sucked. Oh, I like being sucked!"
"Yes, and then you'd run your face down her chest and across her belly. You'd lick her bellybutton, like that, and then you'd go down even further."
"Yes, I would. Oh, I would!"
"And then you'd be able to see that great gooey cunt, all wet, and eager, and pink."
"What would she be doing?"
"She'd be moaning and her tits would be flushed. Her hands would be grabbing at your hair, demanding that you eat her hungry cunt. She'd beg you. She'd beg you to eat her, to let her come against your face and tongue."
"Yesssss, now eat me and make me come. I want to come! I WANT TO COME!"
"Come, darling, now come." The man's voice was almost drowned by the wet cunt he was buried in. "Come, come, come!"
"I want it! I want to suck her cunt, to suck her clit, I want to suck! I want her cunt, her wet, creamy, gushing, gushing CUNT! And now I'm coming. I'm gonna come! I'm coming, coming, coming, COMING!"
The entire couch shook with the intensity of her orgasm. Her voice rose into a wordless wail and then died away slowly until utter silence reigned in the house.
Emily had been beating herself off with such overwhelming abandon and ecstas y that she too trembled through a climax as the couch bounced upon her humming pussy. But she hovered still just under the summit of an even greater pleasure while her eyes remained glued to the quivering cock just before her face. She knew that her final, magnificent orgasm would wait until that cock began to spurt its boiling load of come. She knew she would wait, but she hoped she didn't have to wait too long.
Her lips and nose were numb, tingly, and her toes quivered with passion. Her thighs were rigid, her pussy turned to the merest pressure of her soaking fingers, and her tits were on fire. She could hold herself like this, hold for a long time, but the slightest flicker of her fingertip against her clit would crash the last orgasm upon her.
Finally, from above, came the woman's drowsy voice. "Did you come?"
"No. Not yet."
"Oh, that was beautiful."
"I'm glad."
"The best ever."
"I thought it might be."
"I love you."
"I know, darling."
Again there was a long pause. Some of Emily's excitement began to fade. The man's cock, she saw was slightly less tense than it had been before.
"I'm glad we didn't go down there tonight," came the woman's voice.
"I too."
"God, you had me going there!"
"It was wonderful to watch."
Suddenly, there was a rustling above. The woman's feet and legs came down to the floor. "But you haven't come," she cried with concern. "What should we do? How would you like to come?"
"Are you really finished?"
"I don't think I could fuck, if that's what you mean. Want me to blow you?"
"You know I love that." His hand closed around his cock now and began a slow caressing motion. "Yes, I'd love you to blow me.
The woman chuckled villainously. "The idea sure excites you, mister."
"It feels good already."
"Just wait'll I get this warm mouth around your cock, instead of that dumb old hand."
"You talk a good game, baby, but let's see what you can do."
She giggled and slumped down off the couch. The man lay back on the carpet. Emily didn't get a chance to see his face, for the woman's body bloc ked her view. She could see the woman's face however. It was a blond, very pretty face, one which she would have described as innocent or angelic had she not been witness to the last minutes of passion. The woman knelt at the man's side and lowered her mouth toward his long cock. Her buttocks were pointing straight toward Emily, and the latter was able to see a hairy, cloven snatch suspend- ed excitingly between her thighs.
Her dark ass crease loomed above the cunt, and the smell of sweat and pussy juices was thick in the air. Once again, Emily began to masturbate, though very, very carefully. The woman could see her simply by turning her head.
It wouldn't take long, she could see that. Already the man was straining upward, his muscles rippling in the dim light. She heard him babbling sounds, moans, as his lover's lovely face worked determinedly up and down upon his cock. Her hands masturbated the long organ as her mouth sucked and pulled at the straining tip. Now and again she would raise her head to watch the eye open and close as she masturbated him. His cock grew shiny with her saliva, and his moans rose to a wail.
She sank her mouth down upon him as he thrust upward, allowing the entire long cock to slip between her widely opened lips. And Emily saw his hands clutch her head as he began to come. She watched the woman's eyes grow wide as pulse after pulse blasted up the length of his cock and into her mouth. It was beautiful to watch.
She began her own great convulsions as the come leaked from the woman's tight lips and puddled down into his pubic hair. The woman withdrew her mouth, with come gurgling back out of her lips, and kissed the tip of his cock as several last spurts bathed her nose and cheeks. And Emily rose over the gasping top to hang more dead than alive within her orgasm, as she watched the woman's tongue come out and lick carefully and sensuously at the thick come which smeared her mouth.
With a finger, the woman gathered the rest of his sperm and dipped it between her lips.