They descended lingeringly from the blinding summit of sexual pleasure, their naked bodies bathed in perspiration. A cool breeze from the open window dried their damp skin. Still panting, Alison waited for some comment on her performance, hopeful of a compliment but always prepared for criticism.
"Darling… "
"Vera? Was it all right?"
"Simply grand. You're really learning."
"I I'm still just a beginner."
"You get better and better. Now enough of this, let's relax and have a drink, huh?"
Alison did the honors gladly, fetching drinks and cigarettes and then rearranging the bed pillows for the comfort of her beloved friend, glad to serve even in this small way. Just so long as she could go on serving in that other, much greater way! All the dormant sensuality of her nature had been awakened and aroused to vivid life in the exercise of such service, and it was only then ministering to her lover's bawdy lusts that she reached these essential and ever more imperative peaks in her constant and all but unremitting state of eroticism. In retrospect there were times when this seemed like an almost morbid kind of happiness, admittedly certainly the perverse fascination itself was morbid! but that was something she had already accepted and grown accustomed to. Regardless of the rueful memories and mildly gnawing remorse, she became impatient from one date to the next to bury her head between those big creamy thighs and just wallow in the thrill, the lewdly exciting thrill; was there ever such a sexy-dirty thrill?
Even now, with the sex-edge blunted at least temporarily, she finished her errand and returned to that same place on the rumpled bed, sacrificing her own comfort without any reluctance whatsoever. Not that she wasn't comfortable there, pillowed upon all that lovely soft flesh, the softness of thigh and belly and vulva, along with the passion-drenched but still resiliency spongy tangle of dark auburn hair. And better yet she was in the best possible position to prove her readiness to begin all over again, ready to take swift advantage of any invitation or even a tentative hint thereof. She felt just fine now, secure in the intimacy of all this heavily fleshed femininity surrounding her, cradling her, a snug haven that offered both pleasure and protection…
"Back at my cunt again? Don't you ever get enough?"
The tone of voice was more suggestive than sardonic, already rife with promise. Alison enjoyed a surge of sweet anticipation, wondering how long this interim lull would last. Not very long, apparently. And meanwhile she felt quite at home here between Vera's lax limbs, her face still smeared with the dew of Vera's orgasm, her body momentarily at peace from her own hot jolting climax an almost automatic reaction nowadays! her mind anxious only to keep this restful interlude sexy too, hopefully preserving an atmosphere conducive to the prospect of procuring another such orgasm for dear Vera and another such climax for herself. Ah, how she adored this lesbian sweetheart of hers, this bewitching blue-eyed witch, so utterly alluring with that sultry face and sinfully voluptuous figure! How she adored this cunt!
"Does anyone ever get enough? I doubt it. For that matter, who would want to? It's more fun when the craving endures and there's no end in sight. Hey, tell me something, was I really that good a while ago? No technical errors to criticize?"
"What do you want, a medal? Nobody's perfect, my dear. But you're an okay cuntlapper, I'll admit enthusiastic, you know? the kind of girl I'd like having around always. A pretty cuntlapper to put me to sleep at night and wake me up in the morning. With a few matinee and evening sessions too, maybe, hmm?"
"Sounds like a full-time job. Nice long afternoons… "
"Horny little bitch."
"Uh-huh. Horny, that's me. Just like that horny blonde slave-girl of yours when you were a kid, remember? Was she an okay cuntlapper, too? I'll bet. Better than me, no doubt. But she sure couldn't have been any hornier."
"Flossie, you mean. My little school chum. You're still curious about her, aren't you?"
"I I guess so. Not about her, actually, just the idea of it, the slave-girl thing… "
"Oh? In that case, I've got news for you, darling. Flossie wasn't my only slave. I've had others. Interested?"
"You're serious? Vera? You're not just teasing? When was that, around the same time? In school? The slumber parties? Oh, now I'm getting all excited, isn't that silly?"
"Not so silly. You'd be surprised how many women react the same way. And even more surprised at how many go in for that sort of thing themselves. I'm not talking about kids now, no schoolgirl games, no pajama parties. Adult women. Mature women. My dear, I could tell you some stories… "
"So? Tell me."
"Stories that might shock the shit out of you."
"Go ahead, shock me, I dare you. Shock the shit out of me, see if I care. I've been shocked so much lately anyway… "
"Poor baby. You must think I'm a monster, leading you on like that, arousing your curiosity and getting you horny and then making you suck my cunt for hours. Pretty selfish of me, huh? A real selfish slut, always giving orders, always expecting my lovers to obey without question. I'm used to it now. But when you've had as many willing love-slaves as I have, well, can you blame me for being spoiled? And it didn't just come natural, either. I had to learn to do it acting bitchy in bed, I mean, bitchy enough to go all out and satisfy any girl who needed that kind of domineering treatment. Or any woman, rather, especially if she happened to be paying the bills. And there was no shortage of that type and no limit to their crazy desires, once they came out of the closet and confessed. So I wasn't always thinking of myself, darling, strange as that may seem."
"I I don't understand. They paid the bills?"
"Here's a little shocker for you. They paid my bills. And if that makes me sound like a whore… " Vera chuckled. "Almost but not quite. I was just whoring around, you might say. Having fun and letting somebody else pick up the tab. Women only, though, and for a good reason I was getting a divorce at the time, my first one, the crackup of my first marriage. A court case, very messy; oh, that penny-pinching old bastard! You're not the only one who's had bad luck with husbands, honey."
"Ugh. Don't remind me."
"Anyway, that was when I met Ethel. Never mind the last name, she's long gone now. Another divorcee, only this one had plenty of money and no legal problems. We had a little affair just a quickie, I figured but she liked my style in bed and insisted on seeing me again. And pretty soon it became a real big love affair, one-sided mostly, but I didn't mind playing along. She made it worth my while. First it was the lawyer, her own high-priced lawyer; she had him take over my case and pull a few strings, enough to pressure my stingy husband into offering an out-of-court settlement. Then she took care of some credit-card bills I'd run up, bills I couldn't pay until the legal hassle was over. I mean she really wooed me, you know? So what the hell, how could I say no when she asked me to move in with her? Besides, it was fun by then, a new kind of fun. Or an old kind brought up-to-date, perhaps."
"She became your slave-girl?"
"Yeah. My middle-aged slave-girl. A plump one. Plain almost ugly but with a beautiful personality, meek and submissive and anxious to keep me happy; what could be more beautiful than that? I moved in and became a lady of leisure, just lounging around and enjoying the soft life. Ethel paid for everything, even my clothes. And gifts, of course, spur-of-the-moment gifts sometimes expensive to show her love. And she did all the work around the apartment, too. I didn't have to lift a finger. Even when I volunteered, she refused to let me help with sweeping or wash the dishes or take care of the laundry. That was a slave's job, below my exalted station."
"You you didn't do anything!"
"Huh? Oh. Well, sure, I had to earn my keep, didn't I? My job was to stir up excitement in bed. Or wherever we happened to be when the mood struck. In the kitchen. On the living room floor. In the bathtub. In front of the television set. Even out in public sometimes, a restaurant, a movie theater, a fitting room in some dress shop or department store only I had to be very careful in such instances, naturally. I was good at it, though. And I got even better with a little practice, coming up with new ideas, new ways to degrade and humiliate and torture her. The worse I treated that woman, the more she loved me. Weird, huh?"
"Weird. But, uh, aren't you exaggerating a little?"
"Umm, well, maybe just a little. But isn't it fun? Still, if you'd rather I stop… "
"No, don't stop. I love it." Fidgety now, Alison caressed a creamy leg with both hands, encircling the slim ankle and gliding upward, up the smoothly contoured calf with its soft but full blown bulge, up along the satiny skin-texture of the shapely thigh. "I'm getting excited again. Do you mind?"
"Be my guest. Whatever turns you on. Ethel used to love my legs. Kept them nice and smooth, too, legs and underarms. That was one of her regular assignments, my personal grooming. She helped me bathe and did my hair and fingernails and toenails, all those little boring tasks that a woman is stuck with. Only she never seemed bored doing them. Once she got that close, all it took was a whiff of my sexy cunt-perfume to make her nose twitch and her cheeks flush and then I'd see that red tongue of hers sliding back and forth, licking her shiny wet lips… "
"Oooh!"
"S'matter?"
"I I'm so hot… "
"Yeah? Glad to hear it."
"Let me suck you. Suck your cunt. Please?"
"Well now… "
"Pretty please with sugar on it?"
"Hah! Guess who used to say that. Ethel. How that slave-bitch could beg! She could talk me into anything. Same as you, baby-love, if you try hard enough. I'm a pushover for sweet-lipped young blondes. In fact, you've already convinced me, you adorable little cuntlapper. Just give me a minute to get organized. And I'll give you all the "
"Vera? What where are you going?"
The bedsprings creaked a wordless reply, audible but hardly explicit, hardly a clue to the sudden flurry of activity. Alison whimpered in her daze of disappointment, aware only that the prize about to be plucked had just been snatched away. Then, somehow, she too was part of the creaking flurry, unceremoniously asprawl in a new position on the bed. Supine now. A strategic and surprisingly logical position, as it turned out, what with the precious prize itself hovering so close, once again within range. Dangling, practically, dangling over her upturned face like some ripe tropical fruit about to split down the middle and spill its juices…
"You see, darling? Just a touch of novelty. All that chatter about poor old Ethel made me recollect my own duties. A good slave-girl rates a good mistress. And a good mistress is always one jump ahead, never in a rut. It's like show business, the charm wears thin with too much repetition. Novelty is its lifeblood. With a little suspense maybe to bring out the flavor. And the only thing better than a good mistress is a good masterful mistress, you hear? So you might pay attention and appreciate this, what I'm doing for you, just for you. Listen now. Cunt is cunt, they say, but don't you believe it! That's man-talk and doesn't the dumb jock realize he's making every appraisal with the same dull tool? Cunt is unique in its truest sense, no two alike, all different. And even the unique cunt changes from hour to hour. To say nothing of the change you're about to discover right now, baby, a change in position. It'll be brand-new this way, a brand-new cunt to suck properly aged, of course, like a good wine or a good steak a brand-new cunt to satisfy that old craving. I'll even serve it to you. Like this. Hey, just look at the service you're getting. See? Service with a smile!"
Alison peered up higher, refocusing her gaze just in time to catch a glimpse of the smiling face. And then it was blocked out by that big creamy body sinking deeper into its lewdly nonchalant squat and she was left with only the earlier vision to focus on. Cunt. It seemed to be smiling, too; from this angle, who could figure out horizontals and verticals?
The cloven flesh settled at last, squirming fluidly to conform to her chin and cheeks and the lips of her gaping mouth. It was a new sensation, sure enough. Brand-new. A brand-new cunt? Alison pondered the phenomenon, trying to recall the substance of her dear teacher's droll harangue. Surely there was a message to be garnered here! But she was already aroused and sucking with unbridled girl-lust, losing herself in the pulsating union of lips cunt-lips, mouth-lips, lesbian lips and the circumstances were scarcely conducive to such philosophical pondering. She understood it all vaguely, anyhow, and there was really no urgent need for further understanding. The physical part, just feeling like this would tide her over…
"Darling! Oh, you do appreciate me!"
That too had some tie-in with the impromptu lecture. Something to do with appreciation; who could remember? And then, quite conveniently, it all dissolved into shadow as she felt the touch of a hand at the crux of her quivering thighs. No fingers, just the palm patting affectionately hardly a sex-inspired gesture. But it was effective, that one light touch, and Alison succumbed deliriously to a prodigious climax and might have blacked out altogether except for the terrible, wonderful burden squashing her face and forcing a certain recognition of the potential power wielded by a good masterful mistress. Or was that merely the intended message? Masterful?