I nearly went mad, then; locking my legs over her back, I reached down and clasped her head, forcing her face hard against me. My head swam as the electric shocks of orgasm began to shoot up from my loins. She sensed it and lowered her mouth to the entrance of my vagina, forcing sobs of ecstasy from me as she sucked hard, drawing the spend from my body.
Afterwards, she left me alone for a while, giving me time to sort out my confused thoughts. By that time, however. I was past caring; I had slipped over the edge, as it were, having erased from my mind, temporarily, at least, the fact that I was, till then, a happily married woman with a teenage daughter. I had given myself to a lesbian and found the erotic sensations she had roused in me quite shattering.
Guilt and self-recrimination would come later in the outside world; just then, I was completely shut off, in a separate world occupied by only two people — Stella and myself.
And so I blocked off the disgust I knew I ought to feel and remembered only the ecstasy, ecstasy I wanted to feel again and again, until I was utterly exhausted and sleep would bring the merciful oblivion of non-thought. That might make the shame of my perverted misconduct worth while.
Stella came back, still quite naked, with a bottle and two glasses; she poured and handed me one.
“Drink this, darling.” she whispered. “Not mad at me, are you?”
I took a big swallow, gasped as the fiery brandy burned its way down. I shook my head.
“I'm not mad at you, Stella,” I whispered back. “I'm not quite sure how I feel, yet-you see-I…I've never done it before.”
“But it was nice, wasn't it? You liked what I did to you?”
I shivered as her hand was laid caressingly on my tummy, taking another pull at the brandy before nodding my answer.
“And I loved doing it.” She smiled knowingly. “Don't feel guilty about it, Rita-anything as wonderful as that can't be too wrong. Besides. I seduced you!”
Her caresses became bold again; we got rid of our brandy glasses and suddenly, I was no longer just a passive recipient. Eagerly, my arms went round her, my mouth seeing hers; soon, my hands and fingers were exploring her body, which she willingly abandoned to me. I sucked the heated stiffness of her erect nipples into my mouth, my own passion flaring again as I heard her moan. Copying her, I kissed my way down that lovely white body, delighting in the quiver of her belly under my mouth. I stroked her well-fleshed thighs, which at once opened to me.
And there I was on my knees between her thighs, fascinated eyes on the pink, open gash of her sex, at that moment, looking the most beautiful thing in the world.
As I approached between her thighs, I caught the female, animal odour of her. It was like a potent aphrodisiac. Moaning with lust myself now, I clasped my arms round her smooth thighs and jammed my mouth tight against the warm, pulpy flesh and sucked- hard. It was inexpert, but very enthusiastic — like a baby blindly finding its mother's nipple.
I soon had her jiggling her hips up and down, her legs resting on my shoulders. I found her furrow with my tongue and used it as a guide to her clitoris. This drove her wild for a short time, men she went into a spasm, her open quim jerking against my mouth. I got my lips to her vagina and sucked as she had done to me; the warm, salty tang of her discharge tingled pleasantly on my tongue. I sucked on her until she was still and her legs slipped laxly from my shoulders.
We had lain together for some time after that, until she realised, from the way I was snuggling against her, I was silently begging for similar treatment.
She held me close and her hand went between my legs, fingers gently frigging; our mouths met and held until, almost unnoticed, another orgasm had crept up on me and I was clutching her tightly as the waves of it washed over me.
A little later I looked at the only thing I had left on was my watch.
“Darling, it's going on for eleven; I must go,” I whispered. “Phil will be home.”
I got off the bed and started to gather my things from the floor. She followed me and got down on her knees, her hands going to my thighs to hold them open.
“Wait, dear-you can't dress with my cunny in that that-let me…” and she lifted her face to my sex while I stood over her with parted legs. She licked away the fruits of my last orgasm and then reached for her own panties to pat me dry. “There-now let me help you dress.”
I let her help me get my things on, going back into the other room for my dress. Before I left we had kissed passionately like two lovers and I had waved to her from the gate, feeling full of the joys of a spring love. Then, with every step of the couple of hundred yards home my spirits dropped until the zero mark was reached, coinciding with my closing the front door behind me and Phil's voice called down from our bedroom.
“Been out on the tiles, darling?”
I forget what I answered as I stumbled up the stairs and into the bedroom, forcing a bright smile and at the same time hoping desperately he wouldn't have the urge that night. Fortunately, he didn't, but it was a long time before I could sleep and for days afterwards I was troubled and jumpy.
I avoided seeing Stella for nearly a week, until she came round to see what was wrong. It was morning, about elevenses time and I gave her coffee and told her how I had been feeling ever since that night. She was very understanding, but pointed out that there was no danger-not like going with a man; who, she asked, would suspect two women, near neighbours, being friendly? Neither of us looked remotely like lesbians. We had been friends a long time without anything happening; nobody had suspected us then, so why should they now? We didn't look any different. The discussion had ended on the bed!
Since that time, we had made love on an average of about twice a week, the dread of being found out growing less and less, the guilt still there, but shoved into the background. Now and again, I would have a bout of self-loathing when I was on my own, but it was forgotten as soon as I lay in Stella's arms. I suppose it's something like an habitual drunkard must feel the morning after a night on the bottle and finding the quickest way to get rid of the feeling was to pull another cork.
I must be quite honest about one thing, though — Stella's a gorgeous creature and after that first time, I have found no difficulty whatever in forgetting the wrongness of what I was doing in the delights of her lovely body.
I have had recent doubts about what I am-lesbian or normal woman; I'm fairly certain now that I am bisexual, although I have never before been roused by another woman, and, even though poor Phil has been on “rations,” I can still enjoy having normal intercourse with him.
CHAPTER TWO
Now, as I went into our bedroom, all the shame and guilt came flooding back. Phil's remarks had been far too astute to be ignored; it had never occurred to me that he might have noticed the sort of person Stella was, let alone think of the possibility of her “getting my pants off me.”
I thought back to the last time we had had sex together; he was right-it was over a month-and that wasn't like me at all. As he said-there were times when I had practically begged for it, stripping slowly in front of him downstairs after Jane had gone to bed, throwing myself on to his lap and wriggling about until he was mad for me, too.
I had been very thoughtless-from both our points of view; I'd have to do something about it as soon as possible. What would I do if he found out about Stella and I? Could he divorce me and cite her as the corespondent? Whatever he did, I shuddered at the thought of the shame attached. I must give myself to him that night. The trouble was, Stella had had me twice that afternoon and I didn't feel at all like sex right then. Well, I'd just have to force myself.
Leaving the door ajar and keeping my ears open for his footsteps on the stairs, I undressed quickly, stripping right down to my nothings.
Rummaging amongst my underthings in the bottom drawer of the dressing-table, I found the little packet of erotic photographs Phil brought home from time to time, which we sometimes used for inspiration when we had one of our “long sessions.”
