Maybe it happened because she was so good to me. Fleur. Tipping me off about the old biddies, for instance, telling me which ones to avoid. Not that I cared to get chummy with any of them, not even the younger set – admittedly some interesting types, still able to wear a bikini without looking ludicrous. Oh no, I had enough to keep me busy right here in the house, enough to satisfy my sex urges. For that matter, my one girlfriend would have been plenty, my little lover with the green eyes and short dark hair. And the pretty lips, the ever-moist mouth, red as a ripening pomegranate…
Damn! I hadn't figured on anything like this. How could I let myself get serious about someone like Fleur Halevy? Well, not serious exactly, but still an emotional problem to be reckoned with. And not even a problem really, except that it kept growing bigger, this feeling I had for her. The glow of her electric personality made my day brighter. I looked forward to seeing her, counting the hours from one rendezvous to the next. And when she wasn't around I began to experience a kind of emptiness, all hollow inside. No, nothing serious, just a grist for a psychoanalyst's mill. A shrink with a nice soft couch, preferably.
Oh shit, it wasn't all that bad. Just puzzling. Even my near-worshipful regard for Amanda had faded somewhat, shunted aside at least temporarily. I felt attracted only to Fleur. And having already discounted love as a possibility, I didn't even know what to call it. A schoolgirl crush, perhaps? Surely I had outgrown such adolescent nonsense. And anyway, despite an obvious difference in worldly experience, the gap between our ages wasn't wide enough to simulate the pupil-teacher relationship.
Gap or not, though, such a relationship did come about, quite apart from any possible romantic attachment. Quite apart from our own doing, in fact – a painfully touchy innovation, considering how close we were. It was thrust upon us. Just like that, out of the blue, a suggestion from the boss-lady: with time on our hands, why not broaden my education? Good lovers are made, not born; wouldn't I like to take a few lessons from an expert? Not that I was a dumb bunny in bed, mind you, but with a little training, well…
In view of the source, any such suggestion was heard as a request and remembered as a command. I found it pretty humiliating, almost an insult – a stain on my escutcheon! – having seen myself as a natural born lesbian with an innate talent for lesbian love. Luckily the shock went to my stomach instead of my head, and I tasted bile but managed to keep my trap shut, swallowing my pride along with everything else. Which was a smart move, using a little discretion and preserving a lot of dignity – and saving further embarrassment, no doubt – or so I found out later from my teacher. And what a shock that was! Had I been wrong all this time? Was performance in bed really dependent on technique rather than talent? How would a good violinist, say, react to such a statement?
"Who cares? Fuck the violin! Now, if you want to learn how to fiddle around with a cunt…" Fleur was obviously amused by the analogy; then, a bit wistful, "Forget it, honey. The whole deal, I mean – you didn't come here to go to school. Just fake it next time, she won't know the difference."
"No. Wait. It's not for Amanda, it's for me. I'd really like to learn. Won't you help me?"
"Well, sure. Since you put it that way. Okay, let's have a crack at it. What do you want to know?"
"Everything. But that's up to you, isn't it? You're the teacher, you're the one to decide what comes first."
"You've got a point there. You're really serious, huh? Yeah, I guess you are. Okay. Never mind what comes first, it's what comes last that counts. What the boss-lady was griping about, you know? Cunt. That's what you've got to learn. How to suck a cunt. Once you know that, the rest is easy. Understand, kid?"
"I-I understand, cunt. Will you teach me?"
"It's a big job. How do you feel? You'll be doing all the work, I mean you'll be doing it to me, baby; how do you feel about that? Something new."
"Oh. I'm all right. I feel fine."
"Is that so? You look a little sick. Just nervous, I guess. Always happens on the first day of school, huh?" With a grim smile, Fleur rose and fumbled with the buttons of her housecoat. Then, almost fiercely, "Listen. There's no other way. I could talk all night, but you still wouldn't learn. You've got to go down on me, it's the only way. So how about it, you want to suck?"
The housecoat fell away, puddling around her feet. I had never seen her so beautiful. Or maybe I had never looked before, seeing her naked like that, a naked body taking on new meaning in my eyes. The jutting breasts, rosy-nippled. The taper of waist and flare of hips, surprisingly opulent for such a pixie type. Even the haunch, the one domed buttock half-visible from this angle – awry now, swaying slightly, a pelvic tilt – was there ever anything so alluring, so seductively contoured?
As often as we had been together, it was the body of a stranger, a beautiful stranger. For the life of me, I couldn't even remember if she had dimples back there. Only I wouldn't have noticed any way, not now, not any more – my wandering eye could wander no longer, it had succumbed to the lure at last, focused and fixed on the thick black tuft, the cunt-tuft. And look there – the shine, the glisten – was that a flash of pink peeping through? Oh, the sweet thing, the darling thing…
"Kid? You got trouble making up your mind?"
"No trouble. Just enjoying the view. I never saw anything so beautiful. Will it taste as good as it looks? Oh, I do want to suck it, I want to, I want to suck your cunt!"
"Yeah. Get naked first, peel out of that nightie. Nice and naked, just like me." Fleur sank to the bed, lying back and sliding a pillow beneath her hips, lifting the luridly displayed hairy mound to even greater prominence. "Here 'tis. Pussy. The thing that makes every woman a whore. Cunt. Every woman a whore and every man a John. Pussy, pussy. Every home a cathouse – wedding ring and all, fuck, fuck, fuck. Aren't you glad you're a cuntlapping lezzie, kid? Come on down here. Look at it. Sniff it. Make friends with it. And you can just kiss the rest of the world good-bye. This is your world now, you lucky girl. My cunt. You getting acquainted down there?"
"Ooooh, I'm so hot! When you talk lib that…" Crouched between her thighs, I gazed into my world and saw my future. "Let me suck it now, let me suck your pretty cunt."
"You're anxious, huh? Good. Suck!"
"Ummm…"
"Hey, take it easy! Gently, gently."
I tried to calm down steeped in excitement, finding unforeseen difficulty even in simple mental concentration. All I could think of was the sadness, the waste – all that lost time! – I should have been doing this for my beautiful friend ages ago. Her cunt was hot and wet and tart-sweet to the taste, already writhing and quivering in sensuous response.
"That's better, baby. But move around a little more. Your tongue, that's it, your tongue…"
"Mmm?"
"Lovely, much better."
"Teach me."
"You're doing fine. Just enjoy it now. I'll tell you if you're doing anything wrong."
I lapped with skill for her and enjoyment for myself, reveling in the noises that soon oozed from her lips, little sighs and moans of commendation. She wasn't teaching me now, but that was all right; after all, we had to get used to each other this way, learning to know one another all over again. I should have been concentrating solely on her cunt, of course, but the position of her body led me astray. With that pillow beneath her hips, it was just too inviting, to much to resist, and I ducked down lower momentarily, running my tongue out of the cunt-slit and into the furrow of her ass. Flicking at the tiny hole…
"Ooh! So you like to play kiss-ass, humm?"
"Ummm… love it… love it…"
"Do it, then. Let's save the lessons for later. Wait, let me roll over and get comfortable."
Her body wriggled lithely, spiraling over. With the pillow underneath her belly now, I was treated to an unobstructed view of her backside. The vision all but stunned me; such a gorgeous pair of buttocks! The satiny skin was flawless, her soft rounded flesh without a blemish. Just two cute dimples, one on each dome, exactly symmetrical – and the crack midway between, the dark ass-crack that already seemed to be opening up for me.
Sudden desire scorched my insides like flame. I pulled the soft hillocks apart with my hands, giving myself an eyeful of what lay in the depths, the tiny pucker, a rosebud, an exotic little bud in the most sheltered of gardens. For a moment, I could only rest on my haunches and stare, licking my lips and savoring the utterly fantastic beauty.
"Kid? Do it. Kiss my ass!"
My shoulders hunched as I plunged forward and down, sinking my face into the secret place. No exploration was needed; my tongue was already on target, precise to the point of perfection, a paragon of unswerving devotion in its agile and enthusiastic effort to bestow pleasure. Right on target! I tapped at the daintily puckered little orifice, feeling it squirm and practically plead for more, all tense with expectancy. Kind of clenched, almost. As if the spirit consented but the flesh remained coy. Hardly an insurmountable impediment, of course, a single stab of my tongue was all it took to break through the apparently instinctive defense.
I heard her voice, a gleeful squeal. And then, miraculously, she managed to confer a wealth of pleasure back upon me, a greater degree of pleasure than I had anticipated. Who could have figured on such a phenomenon? The clenched muscle had developed a motion of its own somehow, clenching and unclenching around my tongue in a definitely patterned rhythm, alternately tightening and loosening its clasp. It squeezed and relaxed; was it actually sucking me? Like a pair of lips, a pair of hot sucking lips! She was kissing me back that way, sucking my tongue with her asshole…
"Oh, that's grand. Honey? Listen. I'll teach you how to suck cunt, just to keep the boss-lady happy. But for me, well, you already know what to do. This turns me on. Well play the kiss-ass game often huh?"