projections.
Grace whispered, 'I've taken a room upstairs.'
'All right,' Kit said.
Her eyes opened as they moved from the dance floor. She saw only Grace's brilliant smile and her violet eyes, which were long and slanty, so beautiful that Kit's gaze hung on them, enraptured. They entered a darkish hallway and climbed stairs, went into a room almost filled by a giant oval bed covered with apricot satin. There were lamps on small tables but no other furnishings. The rug seemed ankle deep. Kit toed off her sandals and squirmed her feet into the luxuriant nap.
Grace opened a table drawer and took out a pink cigarette and matches. She lit the stick and handed it to Kit.
Kit had sucked her lungs full when Myra appeared in the doorway, startling her. Recalling Myra's rages, she expected a scene but then saw a girl follow Myra in, holding her hand, a pretty, plump creature with soft brown hair. Kit handed the pot stick to Myra as a peace offering. Smiling, she accepted it and the four stood silently passing the hot cigarette about. The name of the brown-haired girl was Louise, someone told Kit. While dragging on the cigarette, Louise was caressing Myra's big tits.
Myra said, 'This is good grass but I had better, Panama Red. My shitty husband burned it with lighter fluid.'
Grace commented mildly, 'What can you expect from a man but shit?'
Kit did not share their lesbian hatred of men but it helped draw them together into a frictionless community further lubricated by the pacifying marijuana. She watched Louise unzip the back of Myra's white dress. It fell, exposing those luscious big tits, the puffy aureoles and thick nipples that had reminded Kit of a cow's teats. Louise bent to them and sucked a breast.
Kit turned to Grace. The girl's transparent violet blouse did not reach her slacks, low-slung hip-huggers of dark velveteen. She caressed the bare, tanned flesh of her waist, warm, silky flesh, then slipped her hand up under the blouse and cupped it on the firmest, roundest tit of her experience.
Grace dragged on the pot stick, smiling as she watched Kit toy with her breasts, then gazed at Myra, who now held a big tit in her hand and pushed it into Louise's yawning mouth.
Kit thumbed the girl's dark tit points to stiff-rubber pegs. Grace vined against her, nuzzling her cheek. Kit watched her fingers wave about under the blouse, following the rounds of tit. She became aware that she had entered the time-lag phase of the narcotic. For a minute or an hour she toyed with the firm globes, then slowly-or perhaps rapidly-stroked down her belly, fingered her deep navel dimple, found her zipper and shoved it down, exposing violet panties, the centerline ridged by a narrow band of dark hair.
She fingered the panty crotch. It was surprisingly dry.
She told Grace that.
The girl whispered, 'I don't get steamy until there's tongue in my slit.'
Kit's mouth watered as she gazed at the plump little lips between her fingers.
They were nude and Grace lay passively sprawled on the bed, waiting. Kit crouched over her, studying the dark-pointed tits and narrow pubic pelt. The hair was thick enough to be dark only on the mid-line of Grace's mound and on her cunt lips, which were still closed and hidden by the hair furrows. Curiously, Kit was the aggressor. The other stared at her dangling tits and wet snatch but made no move to touch her.
Kit lowered and lipped the sharp nipples. Hard. She sucked them and the small aureole circles, heard Grace moan softly and felt her squirm, but she remained inert as Kit kissed down her soft belly to her silky mound bush.
The smell of cunt was mild, almost hidden by a woodsy perfume. Grace's legs spread and yet her twat lips clung firmly together until Kit thumbed them apart, and in the narrow slit saw a glimmer of juice.
She tongued in between the hairy gates of the girl's cunt.
Grace's reaction was violent. Her hips gave a jerk and her legs heaved up, her heels falling on Kit's back, digging into her flesh.
'Sweetheart!' she cried. 'That's it, lap my cunt!'
Kit's tongue swabbed up and down. Magically, the girl's pussy lips swelled out, forming a glistening teardrop-shaped trough, soon as sloshy as Kit could desire. Her clitoral hood drew upward exposing a pink bubble that grew immensely under Kit's sucking kisses. Soon she was Upping and licking a clitoris that seemed a match for Myra's. Did sucking enlarge clits? Or did the narcotic allow her to mentally transform flesh to fit her desires?
She experimented by closing the girl's lips on the turgid nubbin. It protruded. Holding the lips closed, she could still suck it through the tangle of hair.
Puzzled, she raised up from Grace's crotch and looked about for Myra. Myra, naked, was lying on the huge bed, legs raised and apart, her gaping, blonde-haired cunt toward Kit. Louise was still sucking Myra's tits. Kit eyed the dripping pink projection at the top of her slit. She had to find out. She began crawling out from between Grace's legs.
'Don't leave me!' Grace cried, trying to vise her thighs on Kit's head. But Kit wrestled free, climbed over her toward Myra s scarlet gash. Grace was clutching at her but she continued on and mouthed her friend's slobbery twat.
Myra loosed a groan and arched up, shoving against Kit's face.
Kit sucked the girl's clit out to finger form. She closed the lips on it; Like Grace's, it protruded far enough that she could still mouth it.
She heard Grace sobbing. 'You've abandoned me, Kit! Please, please tongue my hole!'
Then Myra spoke. 'Quit sniveling, Grace. You expect everybody to do it for you. Get down and eat some hair pie and then you'll get yours.'
The girl still whimpered as she crawled between Kit's legs and suckered onto her cunt.
Among Kit's hallucinations was the growth of her clitoris to the size of one of Myra's breast points. Eventually it became a cock and she fucked Grace with it. At least, they were in fucking position, she between the girl's legs, ramming the growth protruding from her split into a seething, squirty hole.
Through most of the orgy she could not sort out her impressions. At one time someone was licking her cunt and fingering up her asshole while a mouth sucked each of her tits. She blacked out on that come. Later she was part of a daisy chain of writhing flesh, and the twat she was lapping seemed to be Louise's.
She did not know at what point she lost consciousness.
She awoke in glaring moonlight. Her mouth was on fire, burned dry, her tongue swollen with thirst. She needed beer, great icy mugs of it.
She sat up and saw that the three girls formed a triangle, the head of each between the thighs of another. They moved squirmily, very slowly, as though in the last stages of exhaustion. In the triangular space between them hands moved, caressing flesh, tits or bellies, whatever they happened to touch.
Kit stood up. Cunt juice spilled down her legs. Her twat was gaping but she felt no desire to return to the lesbian tangle, that meaningless plethora of soft flesh. She dressed. Finding Myra's purse on a table she took the car keys from it and left the room.
They did not seem to notice her departure.
Downstairs she went to the bar and asked the butch-dyke proprietor, Mona, for a bottle of beer.
Mona asked, 'Did you have fun, darling?'
'I guess so,' Kit said.
She drank the entire bottle of beer and went out to Myra's car and drove homeward.
She began to feel frightened. Yes, she had liked it. She had come more times than she could count. She had a leaning toward the lesbian bit, and maybe she would like having her clit stretched out to match Myra's and Grace's. Or had that been an illusion? Louise's had been small, though. Perhaps she was a new recruit.
But above all they, were simply bodies, not people, nothing to cling to, meaningless, and what frightened Kit was the voluptuous limbo, the cavern of delicious nothing that formed their lives, a place for drowning.
Arriving home she parked the car in front of her house where Myra could not miss seeing it, left the keys in the ignition, and went inside.
She paused on the porch, glancing next door to Bill Folsom's house. There were no lights. Bill, oh, Bill!
Bill was strong enough to save her.
Groaning, she went inside, locked the door behind her, knowing that Myra might well try to get in. She locked
