Splashing cool water on ray face helped some, but I hoped it wasn't ruining my makeup. If so, I'd probably have to redo the job completely. Nothing but the best for my guest. Especially since she didn't come around very often, not nearly as often as I needed her, anyway. So it was no more than expedient for me to look my very best. I was even wearing a new baby-doll outfit – just purchased this past week, lemon yellow with lots of ruffles – in hopes of pleasing my lesbian lover.
I no longer felt critical of Simon during those rather wearisome visits of his. Or during the even drearier interim periods, when I all but forgot him in my more poignant discontent, the despair of yearning for his wife. No, the change had been within myself; how could I blame the guy for something that lay outside the scope of his own capabilities? Outside his comprehension, probably. Outside the very nature of his anatomical architecture! For that matter, it was something my own mind was still tussling with – this recently acquired taste of mine, this thirst, this hunger, this terrible need, an unforeseen development that had sneaked up on me like a narcotic on a mildly delinquent schoolboy. I was hooked, sure enough. And like most addicts, unwilling to take the cure.
True, it might be only temporary, a taste for novelty rather than a genuine addiction. The kind of thing that would blow over in time. Or perhaps simply fade away when I met the right man, younger and more marriageable than my present keeper. Except that I had already met the right woman, soft and sweet and sinfully sensuous, adorable in a manner that no mere maid could ever duplicate. And wasn't that – the woman-thing! – already ingrained in my character? From now on wouldn't it be impossible to look at a beautiful female and not wonder about the silky softness between her thighs, the same delectably appetizing silky softness that awaited me out there in my living room? Julia. The softest and silkiest…
"Honey? Aren't you about finished in there?"
"Be out in a minute."
"Well, wiggle your ass."
It wiggled of its own accord, hot with anticipation. My ass, just like the rest of me. But I still had to check my makeup in the medicine cabinet mirror, looking for flaws but noticing only the lovely signs of passion. Eyes glazed, cheeks aglow. Lips tremulous, heavy with lipstick, glistening in dewy fervor. All quite impeccable, but I stayed another minute to add an extra touch of mascara – an excuse, actually, just something to postpone the ecstasy and heighten the already unbearable suspense. And it wasn't until then, immersed in the meticulous details of the chore, that I really looked at my eyes. My pretty hazel eyes. They were like opalescent windows, impenetrable to some inquisitive outsider but all too transparent to myself. The windows of the soul? Held by their hypnotic shine, I peered through the surface glaze and into the shrouded depths beyond. Seeing, yet not quite believing what I saw. And then I hurried, wiggling my ass anew, anxious to trade the dubious charm of self-analysis for the more positive pleasures of self-indulgence.
Julia was hovering over the liquor supply, replenishing her drink with a steady hand. As expected, she had changed into more comfortable attire, one of the casual costumes out of her allotted space in my closet. This one was of white silk, a floor-length robe with flaring half-sleeves, loosely bound at the waist by a fringed sash. She wore the matching mules with it, her furry white pair, just barely visible beneath the flowing hem. Voluminous as the garment was, it still managed to enhance the erotic aspect of her appearance, fitting snugly over her shoulders and bosom and then alternately clinging and billowing all the way down, a coquettishly limned tableau of shapely loins and legs. Coquettish indeed, especially after I realized that she was unmistakably naked underneath, with nary a stitch of lingerie to show through and mar the bonelessly fluid body lines. More than ever now, my beloved seemed so soft, so silky…
"Ah, there you are. About time, too."
"I'm sorry. Anything I can do for you?"
"I'll think of something, my dear. Eventually. Meanwhile, sit down arid relax, it's been ages since we had a chat."
"Ages is right. Much too long."
"You missed me, huh? I'm glad. Oh, you're so good for my ego, darling. You make me feel important."
Drink in hand, she glided across the floor to her favorite chair, the white fabric molding itself to her big breasts, delineating every curve, every delicate dip and rise. The nipples were clearly outlined, a sight to set my insides astir. Even the dainty indentation of her navel demanded a certain scrutiny; veiled but hardly invisible, it looked like the setting for some barbaric jewel, sacred to the sex rites of a pagan high-priestess. She sat down at last, sinking into the upholstered armchair and drawing a deep breath that once again contoured the silk to her jutting nipples. My gaze wavered, dropping to scan her lap hopefully, seeing a further revelation. But the edges of the robe overlapped quite discreetly, a disappointment oddly tinged with relief somehow. As though that hoped-for view of her cunt could only have hastened my already throbbing heart to unparalleled and surely unendurable tensions.
"But you are important, Julia. Important to me, anyway. More important than anyone else in my life right now. I-I might even be falling in love with you."
"Silly. You don't mean that. Although I do find the idea flattering, I must admit."
"Maybe you'll come over more often, then. Because it's true. I do mean it. And I'm not saying it just to flatter you, even if that's what it sounds like."
"Hmm. Darling? In love?"
"In love. Does that shock you? It shouldn't, though. You should have noticed it long before this. But-but you don't really notice much about me, do you? Sometimes I wonder if you notice anything at all. For instance… uh…"
"Yes?"
"Oh, nothing. Forget it."
"How can I forget it when you're pouting like that? So serious, my little baby girl. I know you're trying to tell me something, isn't that so? Come now. For instance? For instance, what?"
"Well…"
"That's no answer. You'd better tell me, my dear, or I might just take a whip to your backside again. Remember? That nice little riding crop? Hmm, that reminds me. I ought to keep it handy, just in case. More clutter for your closet, I suppose."
"You-you want to keep it here?"
"Uh-huh. It'll be nice to have around. For moments like this, hmm? Of course, if you're a good girl I may never use it. But like I said, just in case…"
I giggled nervously. But there was a smile on her lips, a vaguely reassuring expression, and I felt almost certain that the threat would remain only a shadowy thing between us. Evidently, she had no more desire to inflict violent punishment than I had to receive it. Aside from that, though, even without the whip here, I figured it would be better to respect the threat regardless, just to humor her. My unspoken complaint had aroused her curiosity; wouldn't it be smart to get it off my chest now, once and for all?
"All right, I'll be good, Julia. Just so you won't have any excuse to beat me. Just in case…" I hesitated; then, giggling again, "You'll probably think it's dumb. And maybe it is. But I'm going to tell you anyway. It's about lay tongue. You've never really noticed it, have you? The size of it, I mean."
"Your tongue? No. Let's see."
"Look…"
"I'll be damned!"
"Pretty big, huh?"
"Do that again. Stick it out. Yeah. Hey, that's kind of weird, you know? I'm glad you called it to my attention. But come here and let me feel it now, let's find out if my cunt can notice it, too. Come on, suck me, suck me!"
Spurred into action, I scrambled to obey, all but tumbling from the sofa to land on my knees in front of her. Quick as I was, though, she had already put herself in readiness for me, flipping the robe open and spreading her legs. I slowed down deliberately then – not much, just enough to get properly geared up for this joyous but nonetheless crucial effort. My lips graced the inner surface of one thigh. Up ahead I caught a glimpse of deep pink shining almost luminously, the glisten of rosy red cunt-lips peeping through tangled tendrils of hair. Lips awaiting my kiss. I craned my neck momentarily for a look at her beautiful face, the green eyes slitted in rapturous anticipation. And just below, still partially covered, the big breasts already heaving…
"Do it, you little cuntlapper, give me that tongue!"
And then those humid lips were sensuously sucking mine, sucking and salivating in gluttonous hunger, practically sucking the tongue right out of my mouth. I gave it to her. All of it. The length, the thickness, the hopefully adequate thrust! She responded with a renewed effort of her own, slumping lower in the chair and tilting her pelvis to accommodate my mouth eagerly, offering even greater access to all that luxuriant flesh. I took advantage of it, naturally, but by then my head was swimming in sweet delirium, awhirl with scent and sex and the satiny sensation of passion-slick pussy, already too dazed to care. It was enough just to be there, to go on licking and lapping and loving this lovable cunt. What more could a hot little cunt-lapper hope for?
"Yeah. Pretty big."
"Mmm?"
"I can feel it now. Just barely, though."
"Nnnng?" My daze was suddenly shattered. Just barely? If that was the sum total effect, oh shit! Another failure?
"Relax, honeybunch. Don't take it to heart. You've got a damn fine tongue there. It's just that a woman my age, well, we do get stretched some, I must admit. Too bad. Oh, to be fifteen again, nice and tight, still cherry maybe…"
It almost hurt me, her voice sounded so sad. A mature woman mourning her lost youth. Would that happen to me some day? If so, I just hoped my body would hold its shape half as well as hers. I couldn't help her any, either, and that added to my sorrow. Only my love, that was all I had to give. Despite the shock, my sympathy for her was greater than for myself, my impotent tongue, my futile effort, my sense of frustration. Was it my fate to forever fail her, this pathetically rueful beauty, this flawed Goddess who loomed so large in my otherwise dull young life?
"It's a shame to waste it though, you know? That precocious tongue of yours…" Her tone had turned blithely pensive, speculative, no longer wistful. "Hmm. Now if it was really precocious, not just big…" Then, with a chuckle, "My cunt may have stretched too loose to appreciate it – except for the clittie, of course – but I've got a much tighter little hole down there, tight enough to hug and squeeze your tongue like a sentimental lover, how about that? You might even have to work to get in, that's how tight it is. All puckered up and just dying for a kiss. In case you're interested. I mean, uh, well, it would sure be a new experience for us, wouldn't it?"
It was hard to talk. Easier to just go on lapping in studied silence, ignoring such distractions, taking refuge in the shelter of her body, the familiar rosy red flesh. Oh yes, I knew exactly what she was getting at. Funny. Unfamiliar flesh. Wasn't that the lure, the temptation I could never resist? Something new – something different? – and wasn't I the girl who simply doted on novelty? Or was that someone else, not me, not this hot little cunt-lapper content to stay put and seek no further. Satisfied with the status quo, a cuntlapper blissfully awash in cunt. Even the word had an intimate appeal, a certain grotesque charm. Cunt. Cunty-cunty-cunt. The cornerstone of my romantic vocabulary…
"Rory?"
So the pressure was on. Was it a whim or an iron-willed imposition? Not that it mattered, considering the source. Authoritative whimsy: chains of steel or chains of silk – both chains of slavery! – hardly a choice at all. Not for me, anyway. More significant still, I was already sticking pins into myself from an objective viewpoint – incentives for my own downfall, as it were – could capitulation be far behind? It all seemed so simple actually, what with the priorities so inescapably clear-cut. I wanted Julia here regularly and often, an involved lover, not just a casual visitor. And that could be accomplished only through sex, as good or better than anything she might find elsewhere. Which put me at a disadvantage, naturally, since I couldn't hope to win her with my somewhat meager beauty or my obviously inadequate erotic tongue. I had youth in my favor, but that was all – except for this tongue of mine, this potentially superior weapon in any lesbian embroilment. My one major asset, unique and inimitable, only I hadn't scored any points with it thus far. Not enough to make an impression, certainly. And this was my chance, here and now, if I could just manage to swallow my pride. Oh sure, and then what else would I wind up swallowing before it was over? Ugh. But no, that was foolish and pretty farfetched, the wrong kind of thinking in this moment of crisis. Look at the brighter side, then. Would it really be tight there, tight enough to hug and squeeze my tongue like a sentimental lover? My precocious tongue…
"Well, my dear?"
It overwhelmed me all of a sudden. Precocious. Now it was even harder to talk – and just when I had something important to say, too. My precocious tongue had made its decision. Only the prospect left me speechless. There were words in my mouth, but I couldn't spit them out, not with this wave of shuddery excitement clogging my throat. Even my mind refused to function; all I could think of was staring into a mirror a while ago. Into my eyes, my hypnotic telltale eyes. Only they hadn't told the whole story, had they? The story on the tip of my tongue, my precocious tongue! I sure hadn't seen that in the labyrinthine depths of my soul.
"Hmph. Still no answer?" Her voice had a brittle edge, almost sardonic. "And I was rather looking forward to it myself, too, a new experience for both of us. But if you're not interested…"
"I am, I am! I'll do it." The words through, bursting out in an overflow. "I want to, I'm ready anytime."
"Glad to hear it. But are you sure, darling? I'd rather not force something like that on you."
"I'm sure. I'll do it."
"Not so fast. You may be sure, but now I'm not. Perhaps we should wait until some other…"
"Julia, please?"
"You want to do it now?"
"Yes. Now. It took me so long to make up my mind. I've got to go ahead with it, I've just got ahead with it. It'll be torture for me if I don't. All that waiting…"
"Sweet thing. If you're really that anxious, what can I do but say yes?" She stroked my hair affectionately. Then, abruptly, her hands left my head, catching her knees in a rolling movement that lifted her legs and doubled her body back upon itself, actually lying on the seat of the chair now. "Here. Take it. Oooh, I'm so excited! Aren't you?"
I nodded in docile but emphatic agreement. Damn right I was excited, especially after she had made me beg like that. And then, almost irrelevantly, I couldn't help but recognize the extra thrill that accompanied such humility, the thrill of submission, a thrill that seemed to turn even the acquiescent nod of my head into a caress. My mouth was already gliding down the furrow, and I must have known in advance what my reaction would be. The initial contact with that secret flesh was like a lit fuse that released the pent-up emotion in my own body. Once before, I had felt such a sensation, the first time I had buried my face deep inside hop aunt. Only now it was even stronger, a thousand times stronger. I had to struggle to hold back and go at it unhurriedly, to do it well, with skill, with delicacy, even though it was so new to me.
The tip of my tongue explored, licking tentatively, seeking and finding the new opening. The tiny ring puckered, bidding me welcome – and in her own words, all puckered up and just dying for a kiss – an instant later it seemed to suck and tug and pull more and more tongue in to make the welcome positive. I was really doing it then, kissing her ass, and yet the half-expected feeling of revulsion never materialized. No, only the joy, the excitement, the thrill of giving myself so completely. All the way…
"Wait. Let me…"
"Hmm?"
"Stop a minute. Look out now."
I waited, moving aside as she turned over. It was a difficult feat, but she managed it with a little panting exertion, ending in a crouch on the seat of the chair, thrusting that huge mass of meaty softness back at me. I took a mouthful of flesh and munched gently. She moaned. I cupped the shiny amber buttocks with both hands, jiggling them apart so that my lips could roam the full length of that furrowed resiliency, rowsing now, wallowing in the slippery-soft trough like an inquisitive piglet. The moan sounded again, more urgently, and I began to narrow the scope of my caress. Only it wasn't fast enough to suit her, apparently, and she let me know with an impatient wiggle and a fiercely muttered command.
"Give it to me. Come on, baby, give me that big slimy thing up my asshole! Yeah. All slimy and squirmy. Oh, I love it, I love that big fat freaky tongue of yours. Yeah, that's the way. It's so big! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck my ass!"
The lewd words washed over me, a degradation and yet a delight. Even more than I had anticipated in the wild sex-thrill intensified. I felt it growing within myself, deep down inside my kneeling body. Her response was making me conscious of the force, the dynamic power of my deliciously obscene act – conscious of fucking her, fucking the ass of my lesbian lover with my big hot lesbian tongue. And when her body went into its final convulsion, mine went right along with it, a total orgasm, both of us climaxing together in that position even as my mind refused to give credence to the possibility of such an earth-shaking occurrence.