stomach!'
'Come on… just for fun… to see if we can do it!' I persisted, now overcome with laughter myself at her comic, half-serious expostulations, and despite her efforts to stop me, I succeeded in pulling her kimono open entirely.
She had no panties on, but I, unfortunately did. To get them off, and prevent her from escaping while I was doing so would probably have been an impossibility. However, she suddenly relaxed.
'All right, you nasty little cocksucker! Let's see just how far you will go!'
This was a challenge which brooked no compromise, and though it was all in fun, I wasn't going to be the one to back down.
Raising up on one arm, I slipped my panties down and wriggled my legs free of them. When I nestled down again, our bare breasts and stomachs were, together, and against my cunny I could feel the soft pressure of Hester's silky pubic hair.
'Now do you still want to see how far I'll go?'
'Yes, I do!'
'Very well; when you've had enough, you can say so!'
Whereupon I slid down a bit and got my legs between hers. This manoeuvre brought our respective cunnies into still more intimate contact, and I rubbed mine against hers, pressing in as deeply as I could.
But I abruptly discovered that this was apt to be more devastating to me than to her because my clitoris and the sensitive parts of my cunny were exposed to the friction while hers were covered with hair.
Furthermore, despite the fact that this had all started in fun, I was beginning to get hot.
Shifting away from her sufficiently to get my hand down to the source of the obstruction. I parted the soft hair with my fingers, separated the lips of her cunny, and then quickly pressed mine against the exposed membranes. She submitted to these manipulations without resistance, but flinched perceptibly as the moist flesh of our cunnies came together.
As for myself, I was almost instantly aware that this hot, moist contact of sensitive parts was capable of producing some erotic reactions I had not in the least suspected. I realized that they were not the normal ones which come through contact of opposite sexes in response to the laws of Nature, but rather the forced surrender of the senses to a purely mechanical stimulation, as in masturbation.
Nevertheless, a delicious sensation was the immediate result and it felt nicer than when I masturbated. I rubbed my cunny against hers as best I could. It was an awkward proceeding and her hair kept getting in the way, obliging me to stop repeatedly to draw it aside. Had hers been free of hair as mine was, the contact would have been much more satisfactory. Even so, I was soon trembling, and Hester was moaning audibly.
In an effort to maintain a comical aspect to what had now ceased to be a joke, I managed to gasp:
'Do you… still want to… see how far… I'll… go?'
Her arms tightened about my shoulders.
'Don't talk! Oh! You're making me… ah… ah… a-a-a-ah!'
'Oh! You're making me, too! Press… right there… o-o-o-oh!'
A few minutes later, flushed and dishevelled, we were looking at each other in comical and guilty confusion.
Hester jerked her kimono over the glistening curls between her legs, and very red in the face, exclaimed:
'I never dreamed you'd have the nerve to really do that or I wouldn't have, let you start it!'
'Oh, shut up, you darned preacher. You wanted it as much as I did!'
'If anyone had seen us, we'd never have heard the last of it,' she murmured, glancing toward the door. 'Yes! That door was unlatched!
Anyone could have walked in!' she added in consternation.
I giggled, recalling other doors which had been left unlatched.
'Like you did when Rene and I were saying good-bye.'
'Why don't you think of such things?' she asked reprovingly.
'Well, for heaven's sake! Am I the only one who's supposed to do any thinking? Anyway, nobody came in, so why worry about it now? And even if they did, this place isn't supposed to be a Sunday school exactly, you know!'
'Listen, you! Don't you ever dare tell anyone! It's something I never did before and I'm never going to do it again, either!'
'Don't be silly! You know I won't tell anyone!'
CHAPTER 13
The week passed by and I was waiting for Monty's second visit. He had sent me a note, couched in affectionate terms, assuring me that he would be in without fail.
Of my earlier patrons but two continued to call on me with faithful regularity; Mr. Thomas, and the effeminate Wainwright. Poor Daddy Heely was in a hospital, a nervous breakdown, according to reports. I wondered guiltily whether maybe the excitation my antics caused him had something to do with his condition. I had become quite fascinated with the Miss Innocence role I had built up for his edification, and had gone to extremes in thinking up erotic situations which could be presented to him in the guise of 'maidenly' confidences. He was physically unable to savour the more material delights of concupiscence, and I had supplanted the lack with artfully designed mental and visual extravaganzas. Probably I had overstepped the mark in my enthusiasm, and sent him into a psychopathic ward.
Mr. Castle had simply disappeared. In addition to Monty I had another new patron of several weeks standing and indifferent qualities who had so far not distinguished himself by any eccentricities worth mentioning except one: he required that I be fully dressed on the occasion of his visits, and that I permit him to undress me. With ceremonial dignity by me, he divested me of my garments one by one until I stood before him, a modern Eve sans fig leaf. Thereafter, what took place was of orthodox regularity, a proceeding sanctioned by custom dating back into the most remote of prehistoric times as far as I know. In other words, he did just what men have been doing to girls since the dawn of time.
Monty had asked me to have a substantial supply of liquor available on his future visits and I had complied with the request. On a little tabouret near the bed was a quart bottle of Scotch whiskey of a mark he had indicated, together with a siphon of seltzer and glasses.
I hummed a song as I stood before the mirror for a last minute, inspection to be sure that my hair was just right and that my face was properly powdered and my lips the correct shade of red. But my thoughts were not on the song, nor more than casually on the face that was reflected from the depths of the big mirror. I was thinking, with delicious little quivers of anticipation, of the several hours of unchastely which were in the immediate perspective. I was sure he would 'French' me again, for had I not confessed to him my predilection for the delicate caress? And if he did, and if he were nice to me in other ways, well, maybe I would repay him by doing again what I had done when I woke him up.
Hester said that after a girl started she was finished, because it grew on her. Nonsense. That might be true in some instances, and not in others.
Hester meant well, but she didn't know me as well as she thought she did. She had a room engagement herself tonight, but had slipped away for a few minutes to speak to me.
'You be careful with that man Austin, Jessie! He's not your type!'
Not my type, indeed! What kind of a man did she think my type was?
A senile old innocent like Daddy Heely, or a perverted fool like Mr.
Castle, whose one ambition in life was to do it to a girl in her bottom, or a semi lunatic like Wainwright, who paid a girl to let him masturbate all over her legs?
From all of which it will be seen that I was pretty well convinced I knew better what I wanted than Hester did.
Reflected in the mirror, I saw the door opening gently and the face, of the man I was thinking about
