Once again it was her eyes that struck me first. Green as emeralds but with a hotter sparkle, alive, animated. Almost blazing at me, really, piercing my scanty apparel and all but devouring my flesh. This time, though I retained the presence of mind to motion her in and shut the door behind her. And by then her look had softened somewhat, masking that momentary flash of naked lust. The green gaze seemed to broaden out and encompass me with its approval, engulfing me in a kind of warm fuzzy electric sensation.
"Such a pretty girl. All in pink…"
"Pajamas. You don't mind? I didn't feel like dressing."
She smiled and patted me on the cheek lovingly. I felt my face grow hot from the blush that rose to meet her caress. She walked by me, moving toward the big armchair. Slither, slither. It was her slim waist and remarkably full buttocks that gave such an impression, a slithering motion – like an onstage burlesque vamp in an old Hollywood movie. Sexy to the point of exaggeration.
My blush renewed itself. Sexy? I was conscious of that as a lesbian notion, the idea of a woman's body being sexy. A lesbian reaction on my part. Oh, it was all so new to me! Men were sexy, of course, especially the handsome ones – not to handsome, just nice and masculine. Robert Redford was sexy. Or maybe even Charles Bronson, if you liked the extra rugged type. But thinking like that about a woman, well, it was pretty novel. And yet the very novelty had a certain appeal, and I became terribly aware of the fleshy intimacies of that body gliding across the floor. The haunches, the twin globes of her ass, the separate halves jutting and swaying and jiggling and rubbing against each other. I even wondered if the lips of her cunt were activated within the flouncing gait. The thought remained until everything came to rest as she sat down.
"A drink? Julia, same as before?"
"Yes, dear." She tilted her face up. "But come here and give me a little kiss first, hmm?"
Approaching her, my field of vision narrowed with each swift step, drawing to a focus on her shiny red lips. I bent and placed my mouth on them, tasting the sweet lipstick – raspberry? – and sniffing perfume and wallowing in softness, the feminine eroticism of our contact, light and fleeting as it might be. I felt the tip of her tongue. And then in abrupt urgency, almost unconscious of the effort – I sucked the softness into my mouth. A ripple of excitement traveled the length of my bowed backbone.
After a moment she nudged me upright, "You like that, eh? You kind of like playing butch."
"You know. Aggressive."
"Oh…"
She chuckled. "Scat now. Go fix that drink." Then, suddenly, an afterthought, "No wait. Unzip me first. I might as well get comfortable, too."
Her body swiveled up out of the chair, a spiral movement that presented her backside to me. My fingers fumbled for the zipper, trembling, only to be stymied by the protective hook-and-eyelet above it. I worked on that, fascinated by the close up view, the curved swell of hip and buttock down there inside the fabric. And then I caught the zipper gadget again and lowered it carefully, watching the smooth-skinned amber shoulders come into sight, following the line of her spinal column until it appeared to melt and merge into the voluptuous outward flair of her haunches.
"I'll do the rest, honey. You get the drink."
Somewhat reluctantly, I trotted off to do her bidding, listening to the rustle of raiment being shed but unable to see it now, forced to concentrate on the task at hand. By the time I finished and swung around, she was seated in the armchair again, her legs crossed almost primly but nevertheless sensuously. A provocative but still rather disappointing display, as far as I could tell – just the dress, that was all she had taken off. Or was it? Even straining for a glimpse into the shadowy juncture of her thighs, I saw no indication of any panties…
"You're staring, my dear. Must you?"
"Oh. Sorry. I was just wondering… uh…"
"I didn't wear any."
"Huh?"
"Panties. I skipped them tonight, why tear another pair? You do remember, don't you?"
"How could I ever forget? But now that you've told me, I've really got something to stare at."
"Tsk, tsk. Try not to." She took the glass from me; then, after a sip, "Go sit over there on the sofa, hmm? That should remove at least some of the temptation."
"Oooh, you're so mean." I obeyed, pouting.
She ignored that. "You know, if I come around often – or even only once in a while – maybe I ought to keep a robe or something here, hmm? Can you spare a little closet space?"
My pout vanished. "Of course. The whole closet, if you like. But make it often, not just once in a while. Please? And you don't have to wait for an invitation. Come anytime. I mean, uh, just as long as it doesn't… uh…"
"I understand. Don't worry, I won't interfere with my husband's schedule. That's no problem. No, darling, my only problem is making sure that you really do want me."
"I do, I do. I've already said so."
"You want me for yourself? The truth now, Rory. It's not because you're worried about the trouble I might cause you? Not because of fear of me?"
"I just want you, that's all."
"Sweet thing. Oh, I'm so embarrassed about that. About the way I threatened you, the way I held it over your head. How you must have hated me!"
"Well, uh, it was pretty bitchy, I guess. At first, anyway. But then afterward, well…"
"Bitchy is right. Can you ever forgive me?"
"Silly. There's nothing to forgive. Not any more. Julia, can't we just forget it? As though it never happened, okay?"
"You darling girl. I don't deserve such kindness. I really am a bitch, you know. A wicked bitch. You're bound to find that out sooner or later. Fair warning! Even without any threats, I still went ahead and seduced you, remember?"
An eerie shudder went through me. I remembered, all right, but it was too late for any backtracking, the deed was done. At this moment she even looked wicked, despite the crossed legs, the overly decorous posture. A wicked seductress in a brassiere and garter belt, black on amber, the straps and stockings and high-heeled pumps as sinfully alluring as any sexy magazine cover. A wicked woman actually admitting, declaring, proclaiming her wickedness.
"You seduced me, and I loved it. Julia? I-I guess maybe I am a little bit afraid of you. For whatever reason. But can you blame me?"
"Afraid. Hmm. You shouldn't be. But if it's only a little bit, I shan't criticize. I might even enjoy it. You're like a child obedient to an authoritative teacher. Only I feel more like a mother to you, a loving mother with a loving daughter. Come, dear, come sit on my lap and let me cuddle you."
I scrambled from the sofa, eager to plop myself down on those temptingly sleek thighs. She uncrossed her legs and set the glass aside at the same time, welcoming me now with open arms. I giggled happily, nuzzling into the warmth of her neck, leaning upon the lush support of her bosom.
"Oooh, yes, I'll be your baby girl…" A quaint thought struck me, eliciting another giggle, almost hilarious. "Hey, but wouldn't that be incest?"
"Rory. Hmph. Incest, what a dreadful word! I ought to wash your mouth out with soap."
But we were both giggling by then, and soon she was stroking my hair, petting me, cuddling me closer, crooning tiny syllables of sweetness into my ear. As if she had really put me in this role, the child her body had never conceived. I went all soft inside, a sense of compassion first and then gradually of genuine sexual passion, aroused by the heat of her near-naked flesh. After that I just couldn't wait any longer, reaching around behind her back to seek out the fastener of her bra. She swayed forward, giving me room to work in. And at last the catch opened and the bra loosened, spilling those big breasts out into the open.
They filled the screen of my vision, the resilient flesh all quivery right there in front of me. And I could only apply my sucking lips to the soft skin and lose myself in its magic. It was a swirling sensation, aided by the insistent stir of her shoulders, the steady side-to-side twist of her upper torso, even the firm caress of her hands on my head, all combining to roll the great delectable things back and forth across my open mouth. My tongue flicked and dabbed resolutely, licking at each nipple in transit but unable to concentrate on either one. And yet both seemed to stiffen perceptibly against my tongue tip. I wondered if I was doing it right. Probably not. Everything was so new, so different, so complex; oh shit, what does a kid like me know about sucking tits?
The swirling feeling increased, making me giddy, doubtless the result of my own perversely thwarted desire, my need to cling and hold and suck those nipples one after the other between my lips, into my mouth where I could treat them with a certain diligence. And perhaps sample their taste and texture slowly, more possessively, ending the weird noises that rose in my throat as the sensation became ail but unbearable. My tongue felt inept, ungainly, its size utterly useless…
"Ouch! Wait, sweetie, my garter belt is pinching. Let me up, will you? Sorry. No more titties for my baby girl."
I hated stopping like that, leaving off in the midst of what could only have been a poor performance. Without even a chance to catch up and compensate. It wasn't fair. But I was already tumbling off her lap, too late even to get my feet under me. And as she rose to full height, I hit the floor with a thump. On my ass! My well-padded ass, luckily, chubby enough to cushion the fall and survive with safety if not without embarrassment. No bones broken. Only my feelings were hurt. Not that I expected any apology, though – or even a reasonable facsimile thereof – it just wasn't in this big woman's nature to blame herself for such a bump.
Big. Oh wow, yes, she was big! Glancing up from the floor, a worm's-eye view, I was startled by the immensity of her. It was just the angle, more than likely, but I was impressed all over again. Her legs seemed so long! Even longer with the added inches of those sexy shoes, the stilt heels. She was stretching lazily but with a deliberate extension of her arms overhead, an elongation of her entire body, evidently to smooth out and soothe whatever spot of skin had been pinched by the garter belt. It was easy to see how the thing could pinch her, the way it nipped in her midriff to an impossibly narrow dimension, more like a heavy-duty waist cincher than a simple suspender garment to keep the dark nylon stockings taut. Although it did look modishly feminine, even dainty – a garter belt, sure enough – an elegant black satin affair, shiny on the surface, with shirred elastic straps almost gaudily prominent down each firm-fleshed length of tawny amber thigh. Anyway, from my low viewpoint, that enormous tower solidity of her thighs. Lavishing my overflow of love upon the skin, the stocking tops, the elastic ribbons, even the impersonally rigid metal fasteners. But always with a wistful eye on the goodies up above, the ultimate goal of my quest; ah yes, how I yearned to penetrate that tangle of hair with my tongue and sink into the inner softness and just suck and suck and suck…
"Well now, what have we here?" There was a certain derision in her tone, an attitude of faintly whimsical indifference. "Just where do you think you're going?"
"You won't find it the same doing it like that. From down there, I mean. It's not like a sixty-nine. You think you'll be able to handle something new?"
"Ummin…"
"Don't just nod your head, baby. Say it. Say it right out loud. You're hot for my cunt, isn't that so?"
"Hot. Yesss. Hot!"
"That's because you love it, you love my cunt. Unless maybe you've got some other reason…"
"N-no, no other reason. I love your cunt. I want to suck it, suck your beautiful cunt. Right here. Just like this. Won't you let me? Please?"
"Yeah. Suck, then. Suck it, suck Julia's lesbian cunt!"
Whimpering in gratitude, I raised my head and tilted my face up and then all but swooned as the sultry, musky odor overwhelmed me of womanhood had the aspect of some sort of unearthly divinity, an evil sex Goddess spreading her net over the world. With poor little me as her most cherished if somewhat insignificant catch. To be her child, the one she had never borne? Well, no, not a child, of course, but a girl she could call her own, to have and to hold in affectionate lesbian bondage.
I was being held, all right, by whatever unorthodox methods my captor saw fit to employ. Now it was an unshakable obsession, a sudden fanatic fervor for that majestic body of hers. With the garter belt as an unwitting guide, a frame, a vividly laid-out design to focus ray attention. Oh yes, it was the triangular tuft of hair that fascinated me most. Cunt-hair. Cunt. For me, the very essence of temptation, the elixir of my new existence. I hoisted myself to a kneeling position, licking my lips and remembering how they had glistened in the mirror, wondering only if it would be my privilege to climb up there and offer my glistening pink lips in worshipful tribute to that glistening rosy-red sacred shrine, now the sole object of my life's devotion.
But there was something else to wonder about, too – why did I feel so good on my knees before her like this? Was it another sign of my not-so-latent masochism, my self-inflicted propulsion into slavery? But there was a simpler explanation, really – it just brought me that much closer to my immediate desire. Not close enough, though, and I threw my arms around her legs to begin a flurry of hopeful little kisses, pressing my face into the supple with an unexpected force. As though it had been long pent-up and suddenly released. And at the same instant – another giddy distraction! – I seemed to be having a delayed reaction to the emotional ordeal she had just put me through. Even to her very words, those last words of hers, shocking and yet strangely appropriate; oh yes, I was doing it, sucking her lesbian cunt, Julia's lesbian cunt! But the twin waves of dizziness scared me a little; in this condition, would I find myself equal to the task?
"I'll bet it feels different from down there, huh?"
"Ummm…"
"But you're really not so aggressive, are you? I'm glad. My pretty baby-doll in pink, such a darling. Oh, you'll make a grand little lesbian lover, so enthusiastic."
I had the feeling then that my technique must have been somewhat amiss. Wasn't that a note of criticism masked with faint praise? It was different down here, all right, but I realized sadly that the change was of no immediate help to my cause. No, the size of my tongue still wasn't much of an advantage, in this big loose-lipped vagina. Better to concentrate on the clitoris. Although she appeared to want more than that, the way her body was responding – twitching, jerking, feeding itself to me, inviting total gluttony. Sagging at the knees, she began to whip her wide-open crotch over my mouth. I could only respond in kind, clutching her buttocks for support and ramming my face deeper into the now-slippery flesh…
"Hey, you're reaching me. Keep that up."
"Nnng?"
"I'm coming. And I'm fucking your face. You like that? You like the way I fuck your pretty face? Tell me!"
"Mmm. Love it. Fuck my face, fuck it good."
"I'll come in your mouth."
"Urrgh, in my mouth, yesss, come…"
I catered to her with frantic devotion, aware of the almost slavish intensity of my performance. Aware of reaping my own selfish harvest in the bargain, an orgasm – from out of nowhere, practically – a lovely climax to accompany here! Although there was no doubt which was more important, of course, and I simply accepted the spasm in my ecstatically drooling cunt as a bonus for trying so hard. No great phenomenon, just the nature of things; what else?