having dared that much, she was apparently hyped-up enough to cast caution to the winds and act on impulse. The embrace tightened suddenly and she pressed her face into my belly, gliding around there to lavish a flurry of suck-kisses on the surface and then dig into my navel with her tongue.
It was totally unexpected, an exquisite shock that turned a comparatively small thrill into something grand. I uttered an appreciative moan and tangled my fingers in her hair, getting an ego boost from the random recollection of how this welcome change had come about. Was it only minutes ago that I padded out of the bathroom and had myself a private little tantrum? I must have shaken her up right then and there, sure enough, with my spiteful remark about her lovemaking. Not very nice of me, but look at the way it was paying off! She was trying to redeem herself, trying to erase the stigma of possible boredom. Hmm. Trying to lick it off with her tongue?
But it was too soon to let her get carried away like that. I gave her hair a little tug, just sharp enough to interfere with her concentration. It worked fine. She recognized it as a signal of some sort, a call for her attention at least, and tilted her head back to peer up and question me with her eyes.
'My bra, remember? You were supposed to… '
'Oh!'
End of communication; message received and acknowledged. And obeyed already, just like that, her hands racing up my back to undo the strap and then continue on up to make short work of the shoulder loops and at last peel the whole thing away. Pleasing as her haste was, though, I couldn't attribute it to obedience, oh no, she must have been motivated by personal gain. How that woman went for my bare tits! It was chaotic for a while sheer confusion as she buried her face between them and simply lost her head in the surrounding softness of my flesh, cooing and whimpering alternately in rapturous gratitude for what she could suck and excited frustration over what she couldn't swallow. But then she calmed down somewhat and seemed to summon up all her skill evidently putting mind over matter long enough to recall her status as an experienced lesbian who had something to prove to the untutored little tyro whose breasts she was chewing on. Not that I had minded the chaos, actually, it was flattening Indeed to be loved with such frenzied enthusiasm by so generally poised a personage.
But her more restrained technique was good too. Those knowing lips of hers had a knack for generating a kind of inexorable suction which was felt only in waves, an ebb and flow that imparted a certain rhythmic empathy to whatever fell under its spell. And so each nipple m turn suffered the excruciating delight of a slowly pulsating vacuum an accumulative effect that was like the tension and released of a diminutive climax repeating itself ad infinitum, an almost scary approximation of the impossible plateau of sensuality: unbearable pleasure infinitely prolonged. Oh, that bubble-mouthed bitch had a way with tits, no doubt about it. She could make mine sit up and beg, practically. I was almost tempted to go on like that and forget about the rest of my body.
It turned out to be one of the few temptations I was able to resist, though. With a little help from my lover. As a matter of fact, it was easy as she began pushing my skirt down. Easier still when I realized that she had hooked onto my panties in the same swipe, husking both off at once. With your own hot little hands! Wasn't that what she said to me after we got back from dinner? Hmm. So much had changed since then. She was still wearing those controversial panties; odd how the one unchanged thing could symbolize all those changes! I was the naked one now. Naked and ready…
There was a moment of panic when I slumped onto the bed and felt her coming down on top of me. More fucking? But no, she had learned her lesson and was already kissing her way across my belly, moving at an unhurried pace but with a resolute sense of direction, right toward the hair. As if she could hear it bristling in readiness and was being guided by the sound. She stopped there, though, just inches away from where I needed her, my pubic lips all pursed and puckered for that first romantic kiss. I figured it was only a pause at the brink, a little time-out to psych herself up for the big one. Maybe a pep-talk from me would help.
'You're great with tits, you know? Florinda? If you're even half that good with my cunt… '
'Oh darling, I will be! I swear it.'
'Yeah? Glad to hear it, lover. I'll bet you’re an old-timer in the game. A cuntlapper from way back, huh?'
'Mmm… '
'What are you mumbling about? You haven't even started yet. Come on, tell me, don't be bashful, it's just between us. What kind of cuntlapper are you?'
'What-what can I say? I'm a good one. I've had plenty of experience. But a lot depends on who I'm doing. I'll be the best for you. The best in the world.'
'You'd better be. I'll hold you to that. After all, it isn't every cuntlapper who gets to go down on Helen of Troy.'
'Wait. You'll see. I'll make you feel wonderful. Just wait and see. I'll love your cunt and make you feel more beautiful than the real Helen ever was.'
'Could be. I'm beginning to believe you.' I jiggled my hips peremptorily. 'Just don't make me wait too long, hmm? I'd say we were both in the right mood now.'
A wheezy moan sounded. It struck me as amusing, for some unaccountable reason, and I had to seal off an incipient giggle. Maybe it was just the exhilaration I felt, a lingering reaction to the weird dialogue I had just conceived and carried out-like a well rehearsed interview, practically-and wasn't it lovely to bask in such an inspirational glow? She was there now, there, and I looked down at the top of her head and was further inspired by its aesthetic appearance, the way we had cleaved together in seamless unity, as artistic as a carefully wrought piece of marble in some museum. Sculptural, every detail perfect. And yet somehow-all the more impressive from my objective viewpoint-we had managed to preserve and perpetuate the urgency, a sense of the impromptu, the essence of spontaneity. It was as if we had hit upon a miraculous new formula, an amalgam of abandon and restraint.
My lover might take a different view, naturally, finding it less aesthetic but surely no less appealing or appetizing, not with her buried face still borrowing and her pointed tongue probing and her gluttonous mouth gorging on the goodies down there. An amalgam of cuntlapper and cunt; talk about miracles! There was beauty in the old formula too, a formula as ancient as time itself. Only I couldn't look any more as the top of my own head became a source of wonderment, about to blow like a geyser or burst into a thousand souvenir fragments to commemorate the occasion of my transcendence. But it was only an orgasm, of course, a bit premature but already predominant, and I lurched up and locked my legs hard around her head, squeezing out and gulping back all the goodies-and then some!-just as gluttonous in my own slippery way. Never underestimate the power of a cunt!
It was delightful. Even the unexpectedly short fuse of my climax was merely a minor disappointment; after all, I wasn't going anywhere tonight, this was only the beginning. Nothing so trivial could upset me now not while I looked forward to spending the night In such charming company. And in such auspicious circumstances. So obliging, this cunt-mired lover of mine! We might even got drunk and have ourselves a party. Or a trial honeymoon, perhaps. And then again well, we might just lie here like this and maintain our sculptural seamless unity to the point of sheer exhaustion-if I so desired. I probably wouldn't even have to ask. My indulgent hostess wasn't shy, just self-effacing.
Something penetrated my consciousness. I stirred languidly, no longer asleep and yet not quite awake. My nostrils twitched, affected by the scent that seemed to be drifting up, emanating from my own body. But that wasn't what had disturbed my slumber I was sure. My eyelids came unstuck and flickered open, but there was no sign of anything in the darkness. Nor did I feel anything down below down where everything had become almost painfully sensitized before we finally dropped off sometime during the night. What could it be then, the aftermath of a dream?
No. My mind was more alert now, less disoriented anyway, and the position of my body gave me a positive clue. I was lying on my side. There was something going on behind me, sure enough, my skin was reacting to it, breaking out in goose-bumps, no doubt; what was she doing, breathing down my neck? Well, no, not exactly, not if I was still naked, the angle was too direct, the impact of her breath too clearly defined…
Oooh, what now, a kiss?
Uh-huh. Midway between my shoulder blades, faint at first but apparently losing diffidence in its subsequent movement, an unhurried down sweep. She was trailing her lips along my spine, punctuating the prolonged caress with tiny darting dabs of the tip of her tongue. Ardor arose hot and thick within me, forcing an involuntary sob from my throat; at the same time I rolled forward instinctively to go face-down and smother the sound in my pillow, a
