That night was a turning point for us. Or for me, anyhow, since I had at last proved my worth. The worth of my tongue, my precocious and ever-willing tongue. Our relationship gained strength, even a certain sense of permanence, always with that one special style of lovemaking first and foremost. We did other things too, of course, but there wasn't any doubt about what Julia loved best. And about what I soon learned to enjoy almost as much, the natural result of always trying so hard to please her. That was our bond.
Oh, it was such a joy to hear her moan, to feel the writhing and wiggling of those lovely buttocks in the heat of her lust, a message that even my sensually intoxicated mind couldn't fail to comprehend. At times I wondered vaguely if there wasn't some way to stimulate and stretch my tongue muscles even more, making it longer and thicker through athletic exercises perhaps. I had a recurrent urge to get in deeper, sensing something just beyond my reach there. Something that would taunt me, dare me, flout me, until I had made it mine. Some unknown something that I might never understand but still couldn't do without. But then again, well, maybe it was just my overworked imagination…
Still, it would have been nice just the same, nice to make my big tongue even bigger. Wouldn't that be the truest and most recognizable proof of my love?
Proof of another sort, quite different, was soon demanded of me. Proof of my love. Only how could it be love when the proof involved other women? What kind of love was that? Was she correct in saying that all lesbians played around?
"Well, maybe not all, darling. There might be a gay couple here and there who feel married and remain faithful to each other over the years. Or as faithful as a well-adjusted husband and wife, anyway. Only it doesn't happen like that among my swinging friends. Quite the opposite, in fact. And that includes couples."
"You-you mean they cheat?"
"Of course not. Silly girl. How can you call it cheating when they both give their approval? More often than not, they're both in on the same two couples getting together and making a out of it, you know?"
"Oh. A sex party? Like, uh – like wife-swapping?"
"Something like that. Wife-swapping with a gay twist." Julia picked up her drink. "Anything wrong with it, a little swapping among friends, all fun and games?"
I shrugged and remained silent, glad that she had become preoccupied with her glass and her cigarette, practically juggling them, no simple matter lying back against the headboard of my bed. We were both naked, recovering from the delightful but exhausting rigors of our first embrace of the night. With hours to go yet, an exhilarating prospect! Only I would have felt much happier with some other topic of conversation tonight, especially since she had been dropping hints about this one quite often of late. Was it all coming out in the open now?
Actually, there was a kind of comic note to the idea, almost a bit ludicrous. Lesbians acting like married people even to the degree of duplicating their vices. Swapping mates, imagine, just like the suburban couples in sex surveys and books and films. The new morality, no doubt – but with a gay twist…
"Hey, wake up! Or must I awaken you?"
The drink had been set aside and the cigarette stubbed out in the ashtray; now she had something else to juggle. Or to play with, rather, since it required only one hand, no juggling. The ominous but never used riding-crop. I hadn't even noticed it on the bedside table, it must have been hidden by the telephone and the broad-based lamp. It was very much in sight now brandished like more than a mere playful threat, a menace to my composure. She chuckled then and flicked it with an abrupt motion.
"Ouch!"
"Hurts a little, huh? Don't worry, that's only so you'll know what it feels like. Just in case, remember?"
"Thanks a lot. I do hope you're not planning to use that thing to convince me of the joys of wife-swapping."
"Hmm… smart-ass…"
"I'm sorry. Julia? Let's be serious a minute. If you want to play around with other girls, well, I've got no right to stop you. And I'll try not to sulk or be jealous. But you're the only woman I'm interested in, no one else. You're my first and only love, darling, what do I need others for?"
"You're all mine, huh? My dear, how romantic! You won't mind if I examine my property, though. Like this. Hmm. It's just stiff enough to prod you in the right places."
The tip of the whip caressed my side. I licked my lips nervously, aware of an immediate erotic reaction as the leather glided up and down my flank. Intuitively, my body undulated in a sinuous response, almost as if I was returning the caress. And yet I was still nervous, waiting and wondering what she would do next.
"Lick your lips again, I like that. Uh-huh. Shiny. Nice and shiny. Now let's see your tongue. Stick it out, way out. Oh, that's beautiful! Keep doing it, moving it in and out, you know? Just like when it's fucking my asshole. And meanwhile, uh, roll over on your belly, let's have a look at that chubby bottom."
Nudged by the crop, I turned obediently and fell into position, straining to keep my face angled up enough to offer her a clear view of my big tongue in action. In and out, in and out. Something she had never really seen. Nor had I, for that matter. Practice fucking! A rehearsal rather than a performance. Only I couldn't concentrate on it as that leather weapon back there began investigating my ass slowly. It felt fine at the moment, but stuck in that pose I was pretty dam vulnerable if she ever decided to start whipping me – on an impulse, perhaps. Even if she wasn't the impulsive type! A single slash would give me the screaming meemies, a real wild fit of hysteria – a fact I knew for a certainty, based on a lifetime of fearful sensitivity to pain.
The whip was exploring more intimately now, sliding up and down between my buttocks, sinking into the cleft with insinuating strokes. And despite my near-panicky terror, I couldn't help but recognize an awakening pleasure back there. Of its own volition, my quivering and twitching ass-flesh seemed to be jutting up to entice it deeper – the whip, the pleasure, even the sensation of being so exposed, so helpless, so utterly at the mercy of my big domineering lesbian lover. As if I had room for everything in the depths of my body…
"Roll this way now." She was chuckling again. "Over. On your back. And give your tongue a rest, it's drooling."
Surfacing from the hot inner core of my excitement, I felt the incandescent ugliness of shame, the flushed heat of embarrassment. But I was quick to comply nevertheless, spiraling over into the new posture and leaving my past worries behind. Again she fondled me with the riding crop, gently, as though it had become an extension of her soft hand, focusing on my breasts this time. My nipples swelled and stiffened to almost excruciating proportions, an aphrodisiac effect that appeared incredible stemming from such lightly grazing touch.
I glanced down at myself, panting breathlessly as the caressing contact grew firmer, more forthright. But it was still less painful than playful, even as I watched the swollen pink crests being teased and manipulated to a state of sheer torment. I shut my eyes then, unable to look any more, drifting into a reverie all my own. And it was Julia's body, not mine, that now achieved importance. I visualized those shapely hips and seductively heavy haunches – and then that ripe roundness, that beautiful ass, so lovable, so kissable, so suckable; wasn't it simply glorious? And once again, only vaguely aware of the shadowed demarcation line between flesh and fantasy, I found myself poking my tongue through the inside of my pursed lips and stuffing it into the delectably slippery depths of my divine lover's womanly ass…
"Hey, you're doing it again. That tongue of yours. Hot for my asshole, huh? You want to fuck me again?"
"Please… yesss… tongue… love you…"
"Soon, baby-doll. Soon as we clear up this other little matter between us. No, it's not what you think. No swapping. Just a visit to a friend of mine, an old buddy. Adelaide. She's got a doll-baby even younger than you – kid named Kitten, isn't that cute? Adelaide and Kitten. They've got a good thing going, and I'd like you to see them in action together. Think about it, will you? I mean, if you're interested in what lesbians do together…"
I was interested, all right. But not to that extent. Even if we didn't swap partners, it might easily be the beginning step in that unwelcome direction. No, thanks. And that ended my thoughts on the issue. Besides, I couldn't do much thinking anyway, not with the little whip still carrying on its fiendish fun. It had moved again, the leather tip skimming down my belly slowly to dip between my thighs. Did she really expect my mind to function with that going on?
"Honey, there's something you ought to know about them. I forgot to mention it. And when you hear it, well, I won't blame you for saying no. Adelaide and Kitty are a pretty freaky couple, I've got to admit. More so than most. They're not just lesbians, oh no, not those two. I guess maybe that's why they were the first ones that popped into my mind. For you, I mean. You could learn a lot just sitting around and keeping your eyes and ears open. A liberal education in one evening."
"I-I don't understand. Julia? How can I think when you're teasing me like this? The riding crop. Must you?"
"Doesn't it feel nice? You don't like it?"
"Come on. You know. I'd like it a lot more if you'd just let me make love to you."
"Uh-huh. Me too, darling. My poor asshole is squirming, that's how impatient I am. Hot for your tongue. But if I tease you awhile longer, it'll be better for both of us afterward. So let's talk some more, hmm? Until we're just too damned hot. Or until there's nothing left to talk about."
I got the message then, the bitchy message that I couldn't even find the spirit to resent. My nerves were shot. If it ended like this, unfinished, our entire relationship might go down the drain. Or if not that drastic a consequence, she would still probably insist on punishing me in her own sardonically cruel manner. Depriving me of her royal presence, no doubt. I could see myself sitting around for the next three weeks or so, wondering if she would even show up at all. A punishment worse than any whip!
"Okay, you're the boss. Let's talk. Uh, about those friends of yours, the freaky couple, what did you mean when you said they weren't just lesbians?"
"Oh. That. I wasn't going to tell you. Afraid of shocking you, I guess. But what the hell, how will you ever learn? Adelaide and Kitty aren't just lesbians, they're a lesbian mistress and a lesbian slave-girl. There now, are you shocked?"
"N-no, not really. Well, maybe just a little bit. Lesbian slave-girl! I never dreamed…" My curiosity was winning out. Likewise the tingle in my cunt. And the tip of my tongue. Why not take care of all three at once? Wasn't it inevitable that this odd conversation would close only with my unconditional surrender? "Ail right then, if it's just a friendly visit, count me in. Your buddies sound interesting. And if that's settled, could I please make love to you now?"
"You'll go see them with me?"
"I'll go, I'll go."
"Good girl."
"Julia? Please? Pretty please with sugar on it?"
"My little pet. How sweetly you beg! I simply can't deny you anything. Just let me make this one phone call first…"
A phone call? My heart plummeted. I suppressed a groan of vexation and prayed that it wouldn't last long. Or better yet, that she might change her mind. Or perhaps get no answer? Anything to turn her attention back toward me. But no, she was already sitting up and ringing the number – successfully, worse luck – and I could only sit up myself and wait, aware now that my lover appeared to be settling down for an extended chat. Something new had been added, evidently, quite aside from making a date for our social engagement. Was it some sort of party they were talking about?
"At the beach house. Hmm. A big one, you say. Adelaide, how many? Aw, you're putting me on. The whole week? That's practically a mob scene, that many couples. Yes, of course, dear, you know I'll be there if you want me. Wouldn't miss it for else are you inviting?"
It went on like that, a discussion of the tentative guest list for the forthcoming beach-house party. That meant nothing to me, except for the fact that all the names mentioned were distinctly and unmistakably feminine. Lesbians. I whispered the word aloud for my own ears only, trying to imagine the scene – all those beautiful nude bodies! – and finding such an idea rather intriguing. Would my name soon be on that list? I shuddered, conscious of a kind of warm horror. Not that it mattered, actually, not if I didn't have enough sick-leave time accumulated at work. I'd never get away.
The excitement had stirred me anew, though. Or maybe it was the old excitement taking hold again; anyway, I couldn't stave off an urge to reach out and make contact, running my hand down that beloved body. I repeated the sneaky move rapturously, the flesh flowing like cream-smooth velvet under my fingertips. Better yet, the pleasure was enhanced by a squirming response, definitely favorable to my cause. Until another tremor made. Julia stiffen momentarily and clap her palm over the mouthpiece.
"Hey, can't you wait? Poor baby…" Then, with a smile and a shrug, "Oh well, go ahead, have fun. Want to do my tits?"
The hand that left the mouthpiece came to rest on the nape of my neck, giving me a stimulus I didn't need. I was already in place, lavishing my pent-up passion with busily sucking lips and an eager tongue. Above me, the telephone became no more than vaguely intrusive, a not-quite-remote nuisance. No competition for this glorious big bosom. The nipples especially, enormous round things, each a mouthful in itself. Chunks of candy almost. Candy nipples that could melt in my mouth and still grow bigger…
A burst of laughter sounded. The fingers on my neck started squeezing a little, an indication of change, and I accepted the guidance happily and then hurriedly, darting downward and leaving the empty hand behind. The gasp that reached my ears came as no great surprise, and yet somehow the tiny noise carried me to an even higher level of excitement. I got there and rubbed my face in the humid softness, splitting the hairy lips wide to bury my nose and mouth in the essence of cunt. Julia's cunt, the beginning of my lesbian career, all damp and dewy-sweet with the succulence of aroused womanhood. Ah, but would I ever again be content with what had only been a beginning? I wanted more.
"What the hell! Rory?"
"Hmm?"
"What's going on down there?"
"Umm. You know. Like this? Please?"
"Little ass licker. Want me to roll over? But I'm so comfortable now, darling. Wait till I finish with the phone. And then you can have whatever…"
"But-but if you'll just raise up a little…"
"Oooh!"
"Just a little bit more."
"More?"
"Then you'll be comfy again. On my face. Please?"
"Well, if you aren't an ingenious rascal! Or face. Why not? I do love that fucking my ass. All right, I'll raise up once more, but you'd better get organized and do it, you hear? This is the last time, baby, I can't keep Adelaide dangling. Get under me now, here goes, here's my asshole for you. Yeah! Ram it right up there and fuck me…"
Her voice became a far-off murmur, scarcely more than a droning vibration. Into the telephone, no doubt. But I was nicely insulated by then, the soft buttocks still spreading and settling upon my upturned face, molding themselves to my features in a thickly fluid motion. Up there the conversation could have been about me, about our coming visit, about the week-long gay beach party, about my overly romantic lesbian development. No matter! My head was too occupied, too deliciously occupied to bother with outside details, distant if not exactly detached. My fucking tongue had no time for trivia.