Betsy wanted to talk to Sibyl but it seemed that their paths had no way of crossing the next day. Sibyl had been drafted into leading story time activities in the children's ward, while Betsy found herself smiling as she tended the punchbowl at a reception for a new doctor. It wasn't till the end of the day that the two girls came together, in the locker room.
Betsy was hanging up her pink frock when Sibyl came past. "Oh, hi!" she bubbled. "I've been trying to catch you all day."
Sibyl nodded. "Daddy told me you stopped by the house yesterday. Sorry I wasn't home."
"Oh, it's okay," Betsy said, willing herself not to look too smug. "I had a swim and talked to your dad. He's really nice." She wasn't wearing a bra, so she hurried into her blouse. Sibyl's face had begun to turn a noticeable red. "Say, hope it's okay if I come by again. Or is that being pushy?"
"Of course it's all right," Sibyl shrugged, removing her pinafore and dress. Her body was slim and pale – and it wasn't a bad body either, but Sibyl didn't carry herself well, so she tended to look frail and even skinny. They could have traded clothes on the spot, and everything would have fit perfectly, except the underwear. Sibyl's bra and panties were clean and crisp, but very undistinguished. Utilitarian. Definitely un-chic.
Sibyl sat down on the bench, her shirt and jeans beside her. "What did you and Daddy talk about?" she asked, obviously trying to sound very casual.
"Mmmm," Betsy shrugged, buttoning her blouse halfway up, then adjusting the lapels so that her braless cleavage was on display. "Just stuff." She took her shorts from the locker but didn't put them on. Instead, she sat down, about a foot from Sibyl. Sibyl was fixated on her father, she remembered, and her father had asked Betsy to help the girl broaden her horizons. "Look," she said brightly, "are you doing anything Saturday? I thought maybe you and I might do something. How about a picnic? I know a couple of guys, too. There's this one named David, see. He's kinda quiet and he writes poetry – I think you'd like him…"
"No," said Sibyl, "I don't believe…"
"Come on," Betsy urged. "You shouldn't sit around at home all the time. It isn't good for you. I mean, sure, your dad is a great guy – God, he's soooo sexy and gorgeous." She could hear the enthusiasm building in her voice but she seemed powerless to control it. "But you can't spend all your time with him. It would just be a picnic, for Christ's sake, and you might go for David – I think he's really your type, very sweet and quiet, and not the aggressive kind. Oh, come on, Sib!" Again the red-haired girl shook out a no. It was a pouty-faced no that angered Betsy.
"Well, look, dammit," she went on, "I wouldn't even have asked, except that your dad told me he was worried about you, that you seemed to have some kinky sort of hang-up about him and he was afraid it was unhealthy for you. Come on, Sib, loosen up! He's one of the top ten all-time, sure but he's your father, and you shouldn't moon around in his doorway at nights, crying while he's asleep, or seems to be. Let me introduce you around town. Get to meet some people. Guys, especially. Time's wasting. If you're sixteen and never even been kissed…"
Sibyl's face went chalky white. "How do you know all those things? About me, I mean? That I've – that I – about the other night…" She threw her arms around herself, as if she meant to protect whatever was left of her privacy.
Betsy touched her lightly on the knee, her hand resting there. "Your dad told me," she confided. "I probably shouldn't have lost my temper, but it's true. He did ask me to help you, and I figured I owed him that much, for God's sake." And for God's sake, she thought, I am saying too much! Did Sibyl think so?
Sibyl did. Her eyes enlarged and ideas moved across their soft green surfaces. She made a gasping sound. "Did…" she began and then, "You didn't."
"I guess so," Betsy confessed, smiling. "If you mean, did I make it with him. And I'd do it again. Sib, I can see why you might be hung on Ed. He's got his act together, you know?" Her hand squeezed Sibyl's knee in a friendly, secret-sharing way. "So, how about Saturday? I'll make a call or two, fix us a lunch…"
She hadn't noticed that Sibyl's face was changing color rapidly, from dead-white to flaming red and every shade between. But she heard the sputtering gasp, felt the tension of muscle as Sibyl's body stiffened. And then Sibyl jumped to her feet, panting like a bull about to charge.
"You slut!" she hissed. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate him! Take Saturday and your stupid friends and your stupid self and go straight to hell!" She lurched back against one of the lockers and hung there trembling like a butterfly pinned to a display board.
Betsy sat up in surprise at Sibyl's tirade. If those green eyes had been lasers, thought Betsy, I'd be dead! The look of hatred on Sibyl's sweet, agreeable face had made astounding changes. Sibyl looked like a jealous beast brought to bay, unable to fight but unwilling to surrender. One of her hands made a claw and her bra-cupped tits lifted and fell rapidly, in agitation.
"I'm sorry," said Betsy. "I didn't mean for you to know. But it happened, and I'm glad it happened to me."
"You're like the other one," Sibyl moaned. "A cheap slut. Sex! Did he fuck you? Did you suck on him? Did he squirt that repulsive stuff all over you? I'll bet you liked it, didn't you? Acting like a crude animal comes natural to your type!"
"A hell of a lot you know about it," sniffed Betsy, angry at Sibyl's words and tone. "A bloody hell of a lot you know about anything! It was the best I've ever had, and I've had plenty! If that makes me a crude animal, at least I'm a healthy one! We fucked, all right, and we sucked each other off, and he shot me so Goddamn full of that repulsive stuff, as you call it, that I squished all the way home! And I'd do it again – in a minute! – in front of you, if I felt like it. How do you like that, Sibyl? Would you get off watching me ball your daddy? I know I'd get off doing it. He's dynamite, with a fuse that long!" Sibyl moaned defensively, turning her head away. Her glare had dissolved during Betsy's reply, and now her face looked chalky framed between the falling tresses of red. "I hate him," she whispered. "I hate him."
Betsy leaned closer. "No, you don't!" she shouted triumphantly. "Look – it makes you hot! You're dripping!"
"No," Sibyl said weakly.
"The hell!" snapped Betsy. "Your panties are so wet they're gluing to your cunt! Can't you feel yourself oozing? Can't you even smell it?" One of her hands shot toward Sibyl, index finger pointing out straight. The tip of that finger pressed home, upon Sibyl's panty crotch, and it seemed to sink into a musky swamp.
Sibyl's pussy was dripping uncontrollably. Her white panties were already near-transparent, and the delicate slice of her cunt was obvious in the tight-stretched, soaked nylon. Even the puffs of her pubic hair were on plain display, each little curl showing in wet relief.
Sibyl stiffened at the first brush of Betsy's finger. "Nnnnn," she whined, lifting onto tiptoes, as if she meant to haul her cunt out of touching range. The locker door rattled as she moved and Betsy pushed more firmly. Sibyl's pussy was hot and incredibly wet. The oozing aura of cunt-juice bathed Betsy's finger, while the vaginal fragrance seemed to fill the room with its musky perfume. Betsy's head swam giddily and the blonde candy striper shivered uncontrollably. The tremors passed up and down her arm, making that finger jiggle where it touched Sibyl's panty crotch, and Betsy could feel the red-haired girl's cuntlips swelling as she stroked them.
God, she thought, it feels just like mine would after an hour or so of making out. I get about that wet, and then I can't sit still unless I get some cock, fast and hard. But Sibyl hadn't been making out. She'd gotten so wet, so hot, merely from thinking about her father and Betsy fucking.
Sibyl moaned and her thighs seemed to lock upon Betsy's finger, trapping it against the plump swell of her pussy. Betsy sighed and leaned in closer, trying to disengage her finger. She sought to work it loose, now that she'd proved her point, but it was as if they had been glued together. Her finger's stiffened dart clung to Sibyl's crotch, refusing to break away no matter how Betsy tried. What is this? she wondered.
"Oh, stop," Sibyl whispered, her hips beginning to sway from side to side. Her thighs clenched Betsy like a vise. If she'd been serious about stopping, Betsy asked herself, wouldn't Sibyl at least let go? She tried one more time to pull her finger away, with no more success than before.
It was the first time Betsy had ever touched another girl's cunt, and she was rather surprised to discover that it felt very much like her own. Softer, perhaps, more yielding, with a petite slice that was dainty-lipped and tactile as hell on the other side of a wisp of nylon panty. Betsy nibbled her lower lip and she started working her finger with delicate, tentative motions. Again the locker door rattled. Sibyl's shoulders were bumping it as she began moving in time with Betsy's slow finger strokes.
It's like doing myself, Betsy thought. God, I can even feel it, my finger sawing back and forth on my own cunt! She had to look down to verify. No, she wasn't touching herself. But her sensory centers were picking up something. What? Interested, and more than a little turned-on, Betsy's mind willed her finger to move just a bit faster.
Sibyl groaned, her hands on her face, stroking herself from temples to jaw. She wasn't gripping with her thighs now and Betsy could have jerked her hand away easily. She didn't. And each time that finger slid across the sticky-wet center of Sibyl's panties, the red-headed girl arched and sank and pushed her pussy against Betsy's hand in a rhythmic, caressing motion.
Betsy brought her own thighs together. She could feel a seeping of juice from the lips of her cunt too, a wetness that was rapidly soaking her panties, too. Thank God cunt stains washed out! These were her favorite bikinis, the yellow ones, with the big black and white smiling face. Everyone said they were the cutest pair she owned, and she agreed. She tightened her legs, accentuating the unexpected bubble of her own arousal, and she became more aggressive in her fingering of Sibyl's cunt.
Betsy knew by hearsay that girls sometimes did things like this together. She'd never bothered, since she'd been too busy doing this sort of thing with boys. But she felt no guilt as she masturbated Sibyl – only a curiosity, a growing excitement, and with it the knowledge that a good job on Sibyl would be nearly as fulfilling as a good job on herself.
She couldn't understand why that should be. Of course she was using her legs to caress her own cunt. She did that nearly all the time, without even thinking about it. But each squeezing press of her legs now was sending jolts of ferociously orgasmic invitation through her body, making her cunt seem to swell, to grow ever wetter and hotter, and she found difficulty breathing evenly. Her finger moved with a fierce impatience on Sibyl, and she was scarcely aware that her girl friend was even now clutching her blonde locks, fingers digging into Betsy's skull, her mouth cooing and puffing.
Back and forth, like a saw, her finger jerked, the knuckle grazing and bruising the panty-covered lips of Sibyl's slice. There wasn't much coverage by now. Sibyl's undies had soaked through and seemed to get even wetter each time Betsy fondled. She could feel body heat, and she could not avoid knowing intimately the details of Sibyl's cuntal flesh. The pliable softness, the yielding as the pussy opened, the tension as it closed, the throbbing impetuosity of Sibyl's clit, which Betsy brushed in passing on at least every other foray. She could hear the delicate rustle of sopping pubic hairs, but that sound was nearly drowned by the low, husky moans from Sibyl's throat. Betsy felt that snatch growing more sticky, more vulnerable. It seemed to open, sucking in finger and panties at the same tune. Betsy chirped in surprise, giving her finger full rein. She pressed upon the slice of Sibyl's cunt and thrust, sinking, sinking, sinking.
Betsy's heart skipped every other beat for what seemed an eternity as she performed her first finger-fuck on another girl. She stabbed, then pulled back till she'd almost vacated, and she stabbed once more, her finger thrusting deeply, lewdly, turning in a semi-circular fashion as it penetrated. Sibyl's drenched nylon pants were no match for Betsy's carefully manicured nail. One scratch and…"God!" Betsy whined. She had torn through the panties and now her finger was buried in real, slick, pulsating flesh! She wanted to thrust deeper, harder, but she was already as deep as her finger was long and the rest of her hand ground in futility at Sibyl's pussy.
For Sibyl, it was all over when Betsy broke through. The panties were like a nylon cherry. When they tore, she didn't bleed, but the bare finger inserted within her tickled juice out of her cunt. It kept wriggling and twisting, and so did Sibyl. She swayed from side to side, her thighs lifting and falling, her cunt grinding down to meet Betsy's hand, and even the padded cups of her bra couldn't quite conceal her erect nipples. Sibyl took her hands off Betsy's head, placed them on her tits, and squeezed until she ached and tears oozed from her eyes just as juice oozed from her pussy. Her lips were moving but no words were coming out, just a low-pitched, keening moan. The blonde girl trembled as she felt the orgasmic contractions which milked at her finger. If Betsy's digit had been a stiff cock, Sibyl would have a cuntful of jism right now.
Betsy was tingling and her tits seemed hard as lead balls inside her shirt. With her free hand she stroked her blouse, purring as she felt the aroused curves of her boobs, and then her hand was diving low, into the panty-covered gap between her legs. She shoved her fingers inside, pushing the lacy nylon trim out of her way, and her hand made thrilling contact with the dark-flossed mound of her pussy. Her nails were too long for uncontrolled masturbation – she was surely scratching her tender flesh – she didn't give a fuck! Her cunt opened wide and the fingers slid inside. Bunched together, they almost gave Betsy the feeling of being screwed by a relatively small cock. She sucked them up her pussy, and for good measure she began to ream Sibyl afresh, in counterpoint to her own masturbatory caresses.
She'd brought Sibyl to orgasm. Couldn't she do the same for herself? Betsy chewed her lips as she frigged in and out of her tight young hole, and she felt her body lifting, building up to it. She rammed her finger into Sibyl with an almost sadistic vehemence, drawing strength from Sibyl's rippling pussy action, from the younger candy striper's moaning cry of delight, and then her body responded just as she'd known it must. Betsy's cunt-dredging hand was awash with her cream, numb from the agitated vaginal contractions, and she closed her eyes in joy, shivering and whimpering as she came.
"I never did that before either," Betsy confessed later. "Not with a girl. But I don't think it makes either of us a lesbian. God, Sibyl, do you always come so hard? I thought you'd break off my finger! Are you sure you're a shy, withdrawn virgin? I mean, you come like a hot bitch."
Sibyl was dressed now, except for the torn panties, which she'd thrown into a wastebasket. It felt strange, but good, having her jeans crotch seam tight against her bare, tingly cunt, and she touched herself between the legs, relishing that good strangeness. "Honest," she smiled. "I really am a virgin. Except that I don't have a maidenhead. When I was twelve I had an accident in gym class." She squirmed, remembering that second of sharp pain, the sudden smear of carmine in her white gym shorts, the flustered face of Sister Barbara, the physical education instructor, when she realized what had happened. Still, she was a virgin. Unless Betsy's finger counted.
"And I think you're definitely hung up on your father," Betsy went on. "Don't deny it. You started creaming when I told you about him and me."
"I guess it's true," Sibyl agreed, blushing. "I think I've always felt that way about him. He's so good-looking, so romantic. I mean, like in glamorous adventure, not be a gigolo or something." She giggled nervously. "But I didn't realize it till the other day. Bets, I came home from the hospital – it was the day I met you, remember? You were sucking that boy – a crazy day, I guess – anyway, I got home, and Daddy was upstairs in bed with the girl who types his scripts. I watched them for a long time. He-he fucked her. She came, too. But he was still hard, so he made her suck on him until he squirted semen into her mouth. I felt sick, watching, but – I don't know, Bets, I felt strange, too. I didn't understand at the time. It was so disgusting. He was sticking that big thing of his…"
"Big is hardly the word," Betsy cut in, licking her lips.
"Sticking it into her body – her cunt – and into her mouth, too. Later I went up to my room and started touching myself, just like you were touching me. I hadn't masturbated in a couple of years, but I did then. I fingered myself till it hurt, and I couldn't forget how they'd looked, making love on his bed. And I-I wished it could have been me, instead of her! Bets, is that terrible? Do you think I'll burn in hell?"
"I don't even think there is a hell," Betsy said firmly, "and if there is, it's probably so full of politicians and military leaders, they don't have room for a poor little kid who just likes to play with her pussy and pretend she's getting fucked by a near, dear relation. Oh, look, kid, face the facts. He is your dad. He's a dynamite screw, too, but the only way you're ever gonna find that out is to hear it from someone who's been there. It's incest, and I don't believe he'd go along with you. No matter how doting he is."
Sibyl sighed mournfully. Betsy was right. It was only a dream. The urge had always been there, in her subconscious, but she'd not allowed herself to admit or accept it. Funny. They said that accepting your problem was the first step toward curing it.
"Look, Sib," Betsy added. "Let's have that picnic Saturday. You need something to get your mind off your daddy and his bod, and if you're willing to try desperate measures, I think we can do just that. I'll round up a couple of horny, adequate guys, and you and I will just go wild on them. You need to do some screwing around, to find out that the world is full of men, that a great many of them would be interested in giving you about six inches of love and affection."