My tongue wormed upward, into her fuzzy red patch of hair, and I giggled at the ticklish stimulation that passed along my tongue's length. Then I touched flesh, and giggling didn't seem appropriate and longer.
She was warm, with a tingling meaty taste, and my tongue tapped her again and again. Lara twisted to one side and my tongue scraped across the mouth of her slash. At the touch, she pressed down upon me and my tongue had nowhere to go except inside her, and that's exactly where it went. She was sopping wet, past the moist sweet cleft of her, and for the first time in my life, I tasted the honey drippings of a pussy in heat.
"Your hand," Lara said. "Use your hand on me, too!"
Well, she didn't have to tell me twice! In fact, my hand was already moving to join in when she spoke. My fingertips brushed the smooth sweaty flesh of her hip, then slid around to attack her pussy from the rear, the way she'd attacked mine in the bathroom when she first made a pass at me. I karate-chopped through her crack and my fingers found her twat from behind, one digital tip entering her easily-parted gates, the others drumming rat-a-tat-tat on the flesh surrounding the portals.
Her pussy was just as active, internally, as it had been when I fingered her on the bed a little while ago. The undulating muscles caught my finger in their spellbinding trap and pulled me deep, deep, deep into Lara. The sucking, the rippling, the sticky hot wetness – it must have been very much like drowning in quicksand. My finger pushed hard, sank deeper and deeper into her, until my knuckles were grinding furiously against her labia.
And all the while my tongue was busy too. I licked her slit, inside, outside, filled my mouth with her sweet, puss-flavored hairs, absorbed the meaty arousal of her cunt. My smacking lips kissed hard against her slice and my tongue stole forth, crept inside where it roved and explored alongside my finger. She was totally alive in there, a hotbed of responsive tissue sucking at me, pulling, drawing me inside her. Lara's pussy seemed to be alive, eager and willing to eat me up. As I licked and stabbed digitally into her twat, I felt that the gates of her slice were opening wider and wider, pulling me inside the woman's body, devouring me totally.
A heady feeling, to say the least! But I worked into it, co-operating, lending my tongue and my finger willingly. The taste of Lara reminded me that there were many worse things to be swallowed up in.
"My God, you're good," Lara called, riding down heavy and cunty on my face. The lips of her pussy squashed against me, spread wider, and my finger slipped deeper and deeper into her quivering box. I knew the come-feeling well enough from masturbating myself, and I could sense it in Lara McMinn's trembling body and sloppy puss. The realization made me scarf her all the more vigorously, determined to make her explode the way she'd made me.
God, be praised, I had that one hand untied and unfettered! I could use it on her, poke her pussy, slide back and forth across her perineum while my was busy inside her, even tickle her tight puckered asshole by way of diversion. And through it all, Lara rocked on my face, slamming down to drown me in the aroma of her frothing pussy, riding high only to come down again harder than before. Me? I guess you could say I ate it up.
Oh, did I eat it up! I mean, I was her prisoner, wasn't I? She had me handcuffed and tied to the bed, just the way Tony had done with his ropes and cords, the way Jerry had done in the van by sheer muscle power. I was immobile. If I wanted to live through this agony, I had to co-operate.
Oh, my God, she hadn't said a Goddamned thing about killing me or beating my face to a pulp or hammering me senseless – all she had done was tie me to the bed and I'd started salivating at her pussy like one of Pavlov's dogs! It was a chain reaction. I'd come all over her grinding face and shivered and shaken, and now I was responding just the way she'd requested – not commanded – me to respond. It was scary, in its way. Rebecca Lee Butler of Reckardsville, Ohio, seemed a long, long way in my past. I didn't know who I was now; I only knew that I was chomping like crazy on another woman's pussy and loving every second of my enforced sexual submission.
"Try this," Lara suggested, leaning back. She placed the edge of the wine glass on her belly, just below her tiny navel, and she started to pour the red liquid down herself.
It flowed through her pussy hair, separating into a dozen different streams, all of them converging on my mouth where it sucked lasciviously at Lara's pussy. The wine entered my mouth, mingled and mixed with the flowing secretions of Lara's cunt, and both her juices and her wine took on a new, fascinating flavor when they oozed across my tongue. She kept pouring, and my tongue acted as a funnel and as a brush. First I slurped in the wine, then I dribbled it out across her pussy flesh, lapping it home once again, this time to stay.
As if I needed extra stimulation! The handcuff on my wrist was chafing my skin every time my hand moved, but my hind didn't stop moving. Even the chafing felt too. I strained with that hand, wanting to touch Lara with it. Her nipples were high above me, stiff and straining, red targets for a hand that could not quite reach their points of ecstasy. My other hand was too busy in her cunt and crack to spare any time for reaching high and, though I knew the attempt was doomed from the start, I kept on struggling with my other hand, struggling to reach her sweet hot body.
"Are you sure you've never done this before?" Lara gasped, slamming her cunt home atop my face. My tongue wiggled up inside her and I wondered – was it true! Was this the first time I'd ever eaten a pussy? I seemed to be adjusting to it like a duck to water.
Back home in Reckardsville it would have been scandalous, what I was doing. Reckardsville is a small town and gossip spreads fast. Everybody knows who is doing what, and when, and where, and how. But I wasn't in Reckardsville now. I was in a small ton in central Missouri and, probably, the people who lived here thought that gossip and rumor were just as widespread. And I was only passing through, a stranger in a strange land. Nobody who lived in this town should even have reason to care what I did or who I did it with. If I wanted to eat Lara McMinn's pussy, it was her secret and mine. Tomorrow I'd be gone and that would be the end of it.
Would it? For me? As I lapped hungrily at the sweet juices of her cunt, I somehow knew that the very next chance I got, I would be performing this act again. Maybe without the aid of bondage. Maybe I'd just see a girl I liked and put the matter to her straightforwardly and we'd adjourn to a bedroom or some secluded place where I could get my mouth onto her crack. And I'd eat, and I'd eat, and I'd eat…
What about men? I didn't know. Men were something else. When I thought of a man, I thought either of Norman and Bucky fucking atop me while I counted sheep and tiled to stay awake underneath. Or of Tony and Jerry, ravishing me cruelly but with such passion my body could do nothing but respond, unwilling or no. I warn't sure about men. I'd have to do some looking around, some more testing. God, I might have been a latent lesbian all these years, just waiting for someone to turn me on and out. The thought was chilling but it didn't prevent my tongue from stabbing into Lara again and again as she rode my face.
My finger was pushing at Lara's asshole. She squealed softly atop me, and she wiggled her butt, but she didn't get out of the way and I took that for a good sign. I pushed a little harder, till her sphincter muscle quivered, then relaxed, and my finger stabbed into her anus.
"Owwwwwww!" she cried above me, and there was a flutter in her voice, a rising and falling of pitch that might have signified pain or pleasure. I hesitated a moment, listening to her cry out. She wiggled her bottom and an inch of my finger slipped up her rectum. That was the sign I was looking for.
My tongue shot up her cunt and I started to work my finger in and out. Slowly, at first, because she was tight. But she was cooperating, and evidently willing herself to go loose and free around me. My finger moved with greater and greater ease slippin through the greasy liquid tightness of her asshole and rectum, and each stroke I gave her made Lara McMinn's small red mouth whimper, high above me. Yes, I thought, if this is what you want, then Rebecca Lee Butler is the girl to give it to you.
"If you're stopping," Lara warned, "I'll whip you! I mean it! With an honest to God whip!" She caught my head in bath hands, held it steady while she fucked my face with her sloppy cunt. The juices smeared my mouth, wetted my nostrils reminded me what I was supposed to be doing. I plunged my finger all the way into her asshole and raised my lips slightly, fastening them to the glisteny, hard button of her clitoris. As my finger worked in and out of her butt, I began to suck her nubbin, and I mean suck!
I used my lips and my tongue, even my teeth. I knew it must be agonizingly painful to Lara, but I didn't care. My chin was tight against the mouth of her hole and the girl-jism oozed from her in an apparently nonstop river flow. And like a leech, through it all I grasped her clit in my mouth and I sucked and I chewed and I pulled, with Lara screaming at the top of her lungs and collapsing, her pussy glued to my exhausted mouth. My finger gave two or three more spasmodic jerks in her sucking rectum and it was all over except the moaning.
She did plenty of that, quivering, throbbing, atop me, and I guess I did a little bit myself. There was a hot fire in my pussy, brought on solely by what I had done to Lara. As she went limp over my mouth, I got my finger out of her ass and thrust it down, into my crotch. Two strokes, three strokes, four strokes over my clitoris, and I was coming again too, sobbing out my joy into the muff of hair that covered my whimpering face.
"Aren't you going to untie me?" I asked weakly as Lara stretched naked and glowing beside me. My free hand slid across her belly, into the puff of reddish hair at the arch of her joined thighs, framed in the piece artfully cut out of her sheer black panties. She covered my hand with her own, pressed my fingers onto the sopping wet muffin, the itchy warm slit lurking amid the hair, the slit I'd already licked and sucked to pulsating orgasm.
"Not yet," she said. "I think you enjoy it too much."
"No," I said quickly, straining with hand and foot, trying to show her how anxious I was to be released from my bondage. The steel band of handcuff chafed my wrist. "Please untie me. I don't want to be trussed up like some kind of animal. I want…"
"Do you know what you want, Rebecca?" She was on her side now, facing me, and her eyes were clear and penetrating. Lara continued to stare me down. Finally I surrendered. I settled back onto the bed, my free hand laid across my tummy. I shook my head with reluctance. I didn't know what I wanted.
"This," she said, indicating the handcuff, the leather loop holding my ankle, "this is just a game, Rebecca. Whether you know it or not, you're playing that game. I think I understand you. Small town girl? Brought up to think of yourself as a nice girl, too, and we all know that nice girls don't do certain things, don't enjoy certain feelings. Two to one your mother was always evasive when you talked about sex. If you talked about it. And when you decided to surrender, you picked someone who was safe and stodgy and probably as inexperienced as you were, and it was a fizzle, the way that kind of fucking all too often turns out to be. Am I getting warm, dear?"
My blush was all the answer she needed. Lara was batting 1000.
"Boys!" she said. "They have one big advantage. Staying power. But until they've been taught their trade, they're worse than useless. They're frustrating to any woman who really wants something because they don't know how to give it to her. A girl should never get it from a boy, her first time. She should find herself a man. Someone who knows how to make her sob and shake and moan. Someone – maybe like that terrible stepfather of yours? Mmmmmmm?"
"My stepfather was a sonofabitch. He tied me to the bed and he raped me. The night my mother died. I'd kill him again if I had the…" I stopped, big-eyed. I'd let it slip, finally. My confession. Maybe when I got into court I could tell the judge that Lara hadn't read my rights to me beforehand. Maybe that would save me from the chair.
Lara sat up. "Kill?" she said. "Is there something you haven't told me, Rebecca? Something that perhaps I ought to know?"
I took a deep breath. "Will you unfasten me first? I can't even think straight with these things tying me down!"
Lam slid closer, till her stiff-nippled tits touched my arm. She put her hand on my cheek. "You can trust me," she said. "So talk. Anyway, you're in no position to be making demands and, if you've killed somebody, maybe it's safer to keep you tied down."
She was right. I tested the handcuff, found it hadn't weakened since the last time I flexed my hand in it. I was in no position to be making demands. "Okay," I said, and I told her the part of the story I'd kept to myself earlier. How I'd killed my stepfather in a fit of outrage and shame, how I was on the run, that I had to get dressed and on my way before the avenging angels of justice caught up with me.
Lam frowned, once she'd heard the dirty details. "Jack could probably get you off," she mused. "Oh, Jack could certainly get you off, but I mean in his professional capacity. Still – are you sure you killed him? Could you have been mistaken? I mean, it sounds as if you batted him and then ran like hell. Did you check his pulse, his vital signs? Maybe it's nothing worse than assault and battery."
I didn't think so, and I assured her. She frowned again. "What's your home phone number, Rebecca?" She slid off the bed and went to her nightstand. There was a small pink phone on it, which I hadn't noticed because it didn't seem important. But when she picked up the receiver, it seemed that that telephone was the entire, total center and focus of my existence. Her finger poised above the push-button dial. "NO, I can't tell you…"
She gave me a penetrating look. I shrank under her glare. She held the receiver to her ear. "Area Code 614," I began.
Lam dialed, and I could hear the little musical tones as the number was registered at the Bell offices. I could even hear the ring as the phone in our house buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, but nobody would ever answer it, except maybe the police, and… "Hello?" Lara said. "One moment, please." Just like a long distance operator. She held the phone to my ear.
"What the hell is it?" vibrated into my eardrum.
"Tony?" I said, frozen with astonishment.
"Goddamn you," he snarled, "what the hell did you hit me with? My head is killing me and I think I got a concussion and I'm gonna have a scar. Where the fuck are you calling from, you little cunt? I'm gonna put some scars on your cute little ass, Becky baby, some real scam!"
I shook my head, and the blood had all run out of my face. Lara took the phone, put it to her ear, listening a moment. I guess Tony was still yammering on about what he'd do once he got his hands on me.
"Listen," she said sharply, "why don't you go take a flying fuck at your asshole, you asshole!" And she slammed down the phone. Hard.
"Well," she went on, hands on her hips. "He seems to be in good health, if not in great spirits. So – you can stay for dinner, then? Jack will be home in an hour or so, plenty of time to broil steaks, bake some potatoes." She reached into the ajar cabinet drawer, brought out a key. It was the key to my handcuffs. She unlocked them, releasing my hand. I sat up, rubbing my chafed wrist, trying to convince myself that I hurt.
"Do you make a good salad?" she asked, untying the leather thong from the foot post. "Jack loves salad, but I just don't have the knack for blending vegetables. Maybe you can work on the salad while I take care of the steaks. The two of us ought to be able to…"
She kept talking but I found it hard to believe what I'd already heard her say, let alone anything else she might add. Hp husband? God, I'd seen her big gold wedding band as soon as I got into the car with her, but it had slipped my mind completely during what had followed. Who was thinking of husbands when Lara was kissing, touching me, tying me to the bed, ravishing me totally? Ten minutes ago she'd been coming in my mouth, and now she was talking about dinner and the importance of having a good meal ready for her husband when he got home from work. I tensed up into a tight little ball of worried girl. Had I gone from horrors to the crazies?