Ron Taylor

Two hot families

I took off my dress and lay down on the bed wearing just bra and panties. I looked around. This room would be my home for the next year – maybe longer, if Daddy thought I was making acceptable progress at the school. It wasn't bad – a little bare right now, for I'd just moved in last evening. My roommate wasn't here yet, either. Once she arrived and we set about decorating to fit our particular tastes and styles, it would be a lot more homey. If a boarding school room can ever really be like home. Whatever home is like.

On an impulse, I got up from the bed and hurried to my desk, where I'd already hidden my stash. Possession wasn't encouraged at this school, but there was no automatic expulsion penalty, so I didn't feel too paranoid. I unzipped the leather pouch and took out one of the joints I'd rolled yesterday afternoon on the plane ride down. The first toke reminded me of how good this special Colombian really was, and I savored it all the way down my tubes. The air started growing pungent with the smell of burning grass and I sniffed appreciatively between hits on the stick.

"Mmmmmm, okayyy," I drawled lazily, sipping the reefer.

I smoked it fast and I swallowed the roach. The little residue in that would get into my bloodstream sooner or later, too, and I could count on a delayed buzz.

"I think I can feel it now," I said aloud, rubbing my bare stomach until it tingled from the outside in as well as the inside out. My hand was itchy, too, and I pressed it against my abdomen, just above the waistband of my low-riding panties. I stood there a moment, shivering, allowing the good stoned feelings to ride up and down my body. It seemed to hit the back of my head and the tips of my toes about the same instant, and I felt good. Very good.

I lifted my hand and gave it something to scratch. One finger extended itself lazily and began to strum across the soft nylon cup of my bra, tickling until my left nipple was visibly erected punching out the clingy wisp of fabric that encased my cunt. I closed fingers upon the nubby erection and squeezed it till it throbbed. So did I. All over. My nipples are very sensitive. I can almost come from having them played with, if they're played with right.

"HI, there," I told the stubby prominence, tweaking it with my thumb and index finger. I squirmed where I stood, and the nip pushed out a little further, fat and squiggly, eager to thrust itself into the pinching grip I had on it.

My other hand came up of its own will and cupped the other tit. The nipple here was only a little behind in the race; one good squeeze and it was fully as stiff and punchy as the left one. It was all hard and eager, hot against the palm that covered it, pressed it down, made it stand up that much faster. Why not? I thought. There's nothing on the radio and I don't feel like watching TV. Releasing my breasts, I reached behind myself and unhooked the clasp in the middle of my back. The cups fell forward, sliding off my tits, and the straps eased down my shoulders. I let the bra swirl to the floor, immediately cupping my hands over my now bare tits.

They were warm and damp with a faint sheen of perspiration, almost like oil. I worked it into the small conical titties, working my hands in circles on them until the flesh was hot and the nipples even harder and my knees beginning to sag where I stood, ass up against the edge of the desk.

I went to the bed again, pulling down my panties as I walked, and I stepped out of them just before turning round to look at myself in the makeup table mirror. It was made for close-up work, but I was far enough from it that I had a good, overall, up and down look at Barbara Gifford in virtually all her naked glory.

For fifteen, I'm not built badly. At least, that's what people like to tell me. Five-foot-five, 105 pounds, wavy hair that's almost classic platinum blonde. My tits are on the small side just right for fashion modeling shaped like, small cones and set high up on my chest. When I stand erect the nipples stick straight out. They're large nipples, considering the size of my boobs, like big pink smears spilling over the tips of the two cones, and the teats extend almost an inch when they're fully excited. Which they were right now, and my hands on them certainly weren't helping matters any.

My legs are long and smooth, firm from ankles to wherever you want to get, climbing my legs. I don't have much of an ass, in terms of fleshiness, but it sticks out nicely, thanks to the natural curvature of my spine, and there's enough wiggle to draw attention when I wear my favorite French jeans. All in all, it's a good body and a young body and a firm body and a tight body, and I wouldn't send it back to the factory for readjustments even if I could.

I flopped onto the bed, parting my legs as I landed, and then I rolled over so that I was lying on my back instead of my belly. My legs were still spread, and I lifted the knees slowly, keeping them wide apart I looked down my belly, past the twin peaks of pinkness, and sighted in on my fluffy bush.

My beaver is almost white – it's that blonde – and it only grows on the swell of my pubes. There are just a few stay wisps and curls flanking my slit, and no hair at all around my asshole or in my crotch itself. Natural blondes don't have a lot of body hair, and I'm as natural a blonde as you're ever going to run into.

I cupped my titties and made them jiggle a bit, the nips wobbling around as if they were trying to evade the quick flicks and pinches of my fingers.

Each time I closed fingers on my paps, little spurts of pleasure shot through me and my uplifted knees wavered from side to side. Down there, where my body was sliced open between the legs, I could feel a growing heat and arousal. I made my thighs squeeze together, and there was a pleasant sticky feeling around the lips of my cunt.

"Do it now," I suggested to myself, and one hand began to crawl down my body. Over the flat, firm stomach, taking time out en route to do a little finger work on my navel, and then covering the final stretch in one quick darting lunge, as my ass began to bounce on the bed.

My fingers skimmed through the puffy hedge of hair and down, onto the bare crease of my pussy. I surrounded it one finger on each side of the slash and I worked my fingers up and down quickly, rubbing and squeezing and pinching off the opening until it misted over with a watery leakage of girl cum.

I could feel the stuff seeping from my cunt, and I rubbed again, harder, drawing more of it from me. A gasp caught in my throat, like a piece of hastily swallowed food, and I didn't know whether to gulp it down or let it out. My fingers slid over, onto my cunt, and I couldn't hold the urge back another second. I let it go, a long, quivery-throated sigh that seemed to be coming, not from my upper mouth, but from the one down below, the one that was even then being parted widely by my nervous, trembly, but oh, God, so eager fingers.

There was a squish sound, my hand squashing and toying with the ever-sloppier lips of my cunt, and then I was split, the tight clingy inner labia pulled open, room air flowing into my pussy. And along with that air, the tip of my middle finger. While thumb and index held me open, I stuck my middle finger inside, scratching about as if I'd never been there before.

The entry way was tight, and I moaned aloud as I started to make penetration. "Oooooooohhhhh." Again that strange husky sound, not at all like my normal voice tones, and again I could fantasize that it was my pussy whimpering and not my mouth. Relishing the way the cry seemed to echo off the walk of the room and bounce back into my ears time and again, I let my finger push a little deeper.

Inside, I was slick and moist, nearly all the way up. My finger straightened out, the nail scraping delicately at the sensitive inner lining of my cuntal tube, and suddenly I was gulping again. My tight cooze had melted round the finger, constricting itself automatically around the intruding object. I'd been fucking for over a year, but not enough to make my puss all sloppy and out of shape. The muscles will yield, if they're given enough stimulation, but they're very tight naturally, and right now, I felt as if I were being screwed by a mule, with only the slender stiffness of my middle finger actually inserted in me. My hips began to rock on the bed, and my pussy was alternately humping to meet the finger, bumping to jerk away from it. "Aaaaahhhh," I cooed happily, feeling more of the finger jabbing inside me.

I pulled my knees up a little higher, rocking in rhythm now, and I got my other hand into action. I reached from beneath my lifted thigh, fingertip tickling its way through my crack and onto my pussy from the underside. The index finger was pointing straight out, and it scratched the base of my middle finger as it too fought its way into me. There was a momentary resistance from my cuntal muscles, but it was only momentary. The fingertip prodded, the muscles relaxed, and sucked up that second finger as wetly as they had the first.

Now I had two hands in action or at least, the active fingers of two hands and I could get into some kinky and delightful experimentation. Poke with one finger pull back with the other. Then vice versa. Middle finger stabbing into my depths then jerking out and making room for the index finger to do the same thing but from a different angle. My hips kept twitching, and my knees lifted higher and higher, till they were pulled right against the long, hot stiff nipples or my lust-swollen tits, and my index finger hid that much more room to get in there and do its thing.

To be honest, I'd rather do it this way than go to the bother of meeting a guy and observing whatever social amenities he wanted to get out of the way before asking me for a fuck. I had fucked three different guys and none of them left me satisfied or even very much impressed. They were in a hurry to get their cock in me and their cum squirted up my snatch, as if the insertion and the squirting were all that really mattered. With my fingers, I could take things at my own speed, arouse myself, really enjoy it. So, I hadn't fucked anything except my fingers since the Valentine dance at the last school I went to. And hadn't really wanted to, either.

Of course, I made up for it by masturbating a lot. And I mean a lot. I spent most of the summer just ended at a riding school in Virginia, and what with bouncing around in the saddle all day and finger fucking myself all night, there were days I thought I'd be bowlegged the rest of my life. Oh, well, I'd been on the wagon for the last couple of weeks, and it seemed an appropriate way to break in my new dorm room. I punched again, sliding both fingers up my cooze in one swift, hard pass, and I felt the walls of my cunt beginning to respond the way they ought to.

"Better, baby," I told myself, in a hoarse whisper, and I was just pulling back to do it again, my thumb swirling around the exposed, glistening nub of my clit, when I heard knocking on my door. "Oh, shit," I growled softly, fingers popping out of my cooze with reluctance. I sat up on the bed, coughed as I tried to regain normal speech and breath patterns, and asked, "Yes, who is it?"

"Just me Dierdre can I come in?"

"A minute, huh?" Dierdre was the dorm proctor, a senior helping us new girls get oriented to the school. As I hopped off the bed and wrapped myself up in the bathrobe I'd already set out for later, I found myself wondering if she'd heard me talking to my cunt as I played with it. "Come in," I said, walking around the bed. Maybe she'd smelled the marijuana. Christ, the room smelled like Mexico was on fire!

The door opened and Dierdre came inside. She was wearing her school uniform-jumper, blue, with the school insignia on its front, in gold-white blouse knee socks. Her long, almost black hair was tied off in pink ribbons on either side of her attractive, tanned, healthy-looking face. She closed the door behind her, then turned to me, nose curling up. She sniffed. I prepared myself for a lecture, at the very least.

"Colombian?" she asked. I nodded. "Do you believe in sharing, by any lucky chance?" I grinned, then nodded. Dierdre strolled further into the room, stopping beside the bed on which I'd just been diddling myself. And what, I wondered, might she be sniffing at there?

The buzz from the first joint was starting to wear off so I took a good sized take myself before handing the fresh one to Dierdre. "Mind if I sit down?" she asked, indicating the bed. I didn't, so she planted her bottom on the edge of the mattress, facing me, and she put the joint to her lips, savoring it as she inhaled. Her eyes closed dreamily, and I felt pretty good too, because I had a fair idea of the way management here felt about students and dope.

She finished her hit and passed the joint back to me. I took it, leaning toward her, and I felt the front of my bathrobe come open, baring me from neck to knees. As I straightened up, I made to close it, but Dierdre caught my hand. "Hey," I said.

She looked up at me, and our eyes locked in. Hers were large, heavy-lidded as if she'd just awakened from a deep sleep but the green eyes themselves were fully alive, staring at me intently, almost hypnotically. Her fingers were still on my wrist and there was a subtle rhythm to the way they squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed. I tried not to look, concentrating instead on the joint. I hit it hard, sucking smoke all the way down to my belly, but when I looked down, she was still staring up at my face. Abruptly, then, she let go of my hand and I pulled my robe shut, far too late for any illusions of modesty.

"Here," I said, offering her the joint. She took it.

I pulled the chair out from the desk and sat down carefully, making sure my robe didn't open up again.

This wasn't the first girls' school I'd ever gone to remember. I'd been around, enough to recognize the look in Dierdre's eyes when she got a flash of my nubile little body. It was nothing new. There's an active dyke on every floor of every dorm in every girls' school in the country. At least one. It's not unusual for them to be proctors, either.

Dierdre didn't look quite like a girl-queer, though. There was a tangible femininity about her, in the soft flutter of her green eyes, in the moisture of her lips, in the way she held herself as she sat loose limbed, like a cat in relaxation. No, I thought, she can't be a lesbian. Even if she did all but have her tongue hanging out while she was eyeing my tits.

We passed the joint back and forth, smoking in silent appreciation, making the room foggy with the sweet smoke of burning Colombian. Even when I wasn't taking, I had only to breathe if I wanted a fresh hit, and I felt the delightful old buzz taking hold of me.

"How do you like it here?" Dierdre asked, attacking the silence with her soft, low-pitched voice. "It's okay," I coughed put between puffs. "Last school I was at, you got expelled automatically for doing this. That is, if they caught you. I was always lucky."

She nodded. "When I was a freshman here, it was the same way. So we had a smoke-in one day. Half the girls in the school toked up at headmistress' office. We all lit up, and presented our demands, and a day or two later, they dropped possession to a misdemeanor. There are some places on campus where you don't smoke, though. Your roomie can tell you where. Mmm, this is really good stuff. Where'd you get it?"

"Cleveland."

"Is that where you're from?" I nodded. "Me, I'm local. I don't sound it, but I'm from just across the river. Good old Kentucky girl. You have a family?" she asked.

"Just my father. My mother…" She'd been gone for three years but I still found it hard to talk about her.

Dierdre seemed to realize that. "What does your father do?"

"He makes money," I said. "That's all he cares about. Making money, then using it to make more money. I think that's his picture on the makeup table. Haven't seen him in so long I kinda forget."

"Don't sweat it," she said. "I didn't mean to pry. Just thought I'd stop in and see how you were adjusting, be friendly, you know? This is a friendly school. Really it is. And I saw you today at orientation, and I thought she is such a pretty thing, but her eyes look so awfully sad and lonely. Are you really? Sad and lonely? You still kinda look that way."

I blushed. "Of course not."

Dierdre laughed, then leaned toward me. She put her hand on my knee and our eyes locked in again, and I found myself wondering if I'd been wrong in dismissing her lesbian potential. Maybe I'd found a new kind of dyke. "You don't have to be," she said. "You really don't have to be lonely at all."

She moved off the bed in a graceful crouch, and onto her knees in front of me. I looked down at her, and she was staring up at me. Carefully she opened the lower part of my bathrobe, baring my knees and calves. She smiled, then kissed one of my kneecaps. There was a loud smacking sound, and I felt her small wet tongue graze me. Her hands stroked down to my ankles, then back up to my knees and I shivered. This was a new brand of seduction, I thought, which was only appropriate if I'd discovered a new brand of lesbian.

She slipped her hands into the still closed part of the robe, sliding up the outsides of my thighs. Again she kissed my knees, and then she lifted her face. "You're not acting like a despoiled virgin," she said. "Am I to believe…"

"…that I've been this route before?" I said, voice as blase as hell. I shrugged. "A few times. It's no big deal. I figured somebody would be hitting on me sooner or later."

Dierdre laughed again. It was a pleasant, merry laugh. Her eyes were liquid with interest and arousal, but she still didn't impress me as the lesbian type, even if she was feeling me up and propositioning me. "Then you won't mind if I try this, too?" she whispered rising on her toes. Her face loomed large before mine, and my eyes closed automatically as she pressed her mouth onto my lips.

She raised her hands, too, inside the robe, and it opened all along its front. As she kissed me, grinding her mouth against mine, licking my tight-closed lips with her frisky tongue, she brought her hands up, into play on my breasts.

There was something electrical, almost, when her palms covered my tits and pressed down upon my nipples. God, I thought, I hadn't realized that my nipples were so stiff! Was it leftover from the self-diddling Dierdre had interrupted? Wouldn't I have been more aware of it, in that case? She plied my tits with her long, cool but warming fast, fingers, and her tongue shoved through the resistance of my mouth, fucking its way into me like a flat, agile snake. Her breath flowed into my mouth, and so did her saliva, mixing with mine, and somewhere in that moment's connection, my arms flew up and encircled Dierdre tightly. Pulling her up, off the floor, dragging her onto me where I sat on the chair.

My legs opened, and her slender body fitted into the gap between them. I was kissing up to meet her now, my head tilted back, and the chair was tilting too, as bath of us leaned further and further backward.

She was no longer holding my tits, but my robe was fully open and her body was pressed against mine, her bigger breasts pressing insistently against my small, by now stiff-nippled cones. Her hands were around me, sliding up and down my sweat-moist back, reaching down to cup the neat little cheeks of my ass and pinch them with loving firmness. I opened my legs a little wider, felt her jumper scrape at my half-parted pussy lips, the material all scratchy and exciting on my wet, tingly flesh, and I let my own hands slide down to stroke her butt, too. She pushed me harder with her body, and the front legs of the chair lifted from the floor.

I felt us rising, felt the chair leaning back, back, back until it bumped the edge of the desk and anchored itself. We could rock but we couldn't fall over. Not unless we got really wild. Somehow, deep in my heart, I felt like getting really wild. With Dierdre. Oh, come off it, Barbara! I told myself. You're just worked up from frigging yourself. You'd probably turn on to a porcupine, prickles and all, if one made a play for you right here, right now.

But Dierdre didn't feel like a porcupine. She didn't feel, or smell, or taste, like anything except what she was. A girl. Definitely a girl. And I rubbed her ripe, woman's hips and ass, tracing the cleft of her buttocks through the jumper skirt, and I thought, yes, she's a girl.

Well, I thought, is it really going to hurt anything? I know the score. And it wouldn't be bad to have a close friend who's working as dorm proctor, would it?

But even while part of me was making that cynical, self-serving decision, the rest of me was responding in a way that had nothing to do with cynicism.

Well, I could feel myself getting all hot and sticky, down there, where her jumper skirt kept tickling my pussy lips, and it seemed that we had our best contact when the chair was reared back on two legs. So, after a few minutes, the chair stopped rocking up and down. It stayed in one place, reared back on two legs. And Dierdre kept rubbing herself against me, kissing me till I could hardly breathe, her hands active on me, her body an unmistakable, irresistible presence on mine.

"Oh, wow," she said, prying her mouth loose, leaning back. The chair settled onto all four of its upright legs and I leaned forward from it. Dierdre's hands slipped away from my body and she pulled herself off me, standing up. Her face was flushed under its coating of tan, her lips were even wetter looking than they'd been when she came in, and her eyes glittered with the promise of pleasure.

"Did I say it was no big deal?" I giggled nervously. I could see myself in the makeup table's mirror, and there was soft crimson lipstick all over my mouth and chin and cheeks, smeared, blurry lipstick that hadn't been there before. And if I could judge from the mirror, my own eyes were doing their fair share of glittering, too. I looked down at my body, exposed in the open front of the robe. My nipples were as stiff as they'd ever been, in all my fifteen years, and I could feel the sticky coating of girl-juices on my pussy lips. Quickly I closed my legs, squeezing thighs together until my cunt ached. "Aaaahhhh!" I moaned in gratification, hunching my shoulders and throwing back my head.

"I was hoping we could be friends," Dierdre said, dancing back, out of reach of the hand I flung after her. She was nimble and graceful on her feet, with a dancer's or a gymnast's ease. "Really," she went on, crossing around the bed. "When I saw you at orientation this morning, I felt this super, strong attraction. At least, it felt very strong to me. You looked like a girl who needed friends, and I'm the friendliest person you'd ever want to meet." She reached up behind herself, undid a couple of buttons, and the jumper went rippling to the floor. Dierdre stepped out of it, wearing nothing but her blouse, whose tail hung low in front and back.

No. I was wrong. She unbuttoned the blouse and tossed it away, and I could see that she had on the underwear prescribed by the school's dress code. "Brassiere and panties must be worn by students at all appropriate times," it read. "Exceptions will be made for sleep and bathing."

Of course, I don't think the framers of the code had Dierdre's kind of undies in mind when they wrote the immortal words. It was only because the code was worded generally, I guess that hers qualified. The bra was black, trimmed in lace, and rode low on her tits, low enough to allow Dierdre's small brown nipples to peek curiously over the tops. It supported her from beneath, though I doubt she really needed any support. Her titties were a bit larger than mine, maybe 35's or 36's, B cup and set a little lower and further apart.

For panties, Dierdre was wearing what amounted to a strip of black nylon between her legs, help up by a low-slung band of elastic round her waist. I guess you'd call it a G-string. Hair, dark and thick and fleecy, peeked out at each side of the string, spilling wildly from the inadequate concealment.

"My God," I said, "where did you get those things? Frederick's of Hollywood?"

Dierdre smiled. "As long as you have to fuck with underwear," she said, "why not get something attractive? Do you think it's attractive?" I nodded, standing up. "Oh, God," Dierdre said, "I hope you're not a dyke! Pardon me for being so direct, but…" she sighed "…good! They get too possessive for me. What's so funny? You thought I… Well, of course not! Hey, are you turning prematurely gray?"

She pointed at my almost white beaver. I stared at her from across the bed, which lay like a boundary line between me and Dierdre. "No," I said. "It's really blonde, not white. But you have to look really close to see the yellow."

Dierdre offered me a hand across the bed. "Let me look," she said. "As close as I can get."

We piled onto the bed, landing at the same moment, rolling into a tangle of flying teenaged limbs. She was right. Now that I had a friend, I knew how much I'd needed, and wanted, one.

"It really is," Dierdre announced, eyeing my bush from a couple of inches distance. She worked her finger into the little thicket of hairs, wiggled it through them, stroked my skin while she toyed with the fuzz. Slowly her finger retreated, sliding down the hillock of my pussy, onto the tight little split itself. "Is this a snatch or a mouse trap?" she asked suddenly, her finger worrying my hole, trying to screw itself into me.

"Both, if you play your cards right," I panted, wiggling my cunt. The tip of her finger pushed at the mug lips, then passed between them, and she thrust quickly, forcefully, burying herself in my pussy with a deft ease that made try eyes roll in their sockets. "Oh, GOD!" I yipped.

"Let me see it," she murmured, opening ire as widely as she could while her finger kept moving in and out. There was a strain on the lips, for she was really struggling with them, splitting me passionately, but when her mouth moved in to lend its assistance, I stopped minding the discomfort. Her tongue shot across my cunt the same aggressive way it had poked into my mouth, and she knew what she was doing, now, as then.

She concentrated on my clit. I hadn't told her to. It was typically a girl's response. Most guys I'd been with didn't even know what a clit was, for chrisssakes! But Dierdre knew, and she licked mine and sucked it, and tickled its base with her thumb while she played it with her frisky tongue, and her finger kept ramming in and out of me, scooping honey from my twat by the tablespoonful. I bucked and thrust against her hand and mouth, and suddenly there was an inescapable smell of wet, aroused pussy, very, very near me. I sniffed, opened my eyes, and saw that Dierdre and I were lying side by side, reversed. If her mouth was in striking distance of my pussy, guess where hers was to me. I struck!

It wasn't the first time I'd gone in so enthusiastically. I slipped aside the little black strip, baring the entire, furry mound of her puss. She had a lot of hair. It looked coarse and crinkly, just to look at it, but when I touched her there, the fur was soft and satiny, a irresistible to pet as a Persian kitten. My fingers glided across Dierdre's abundant beaver, content for a moment just to twine and curl through the silky fleece.

But she was still busy on my cunt, her tongue making short work of my throbbing clitoris, her finger plunging in and out of my hole, and I was a total shiver from my nipples to my knees. I could hear the squishy sounds her finger made as it stabbed my cuntal wetness, and I could feel my muscles contracting each time she gave it to me. Her lips kept active, kissing my clit when she wasn't licking it, and those kisses usually turned, slowly but surely, into a prolonged bout of sucking. Not to mention a little nibble or two, from time to time, just to keep me moaning. Which I was happy to be.

So there was no way I could keep on merely looking at Dierdre's cunt. I planted an index finger on each side of her gash, once I'd found the damned thing, what with all that hair, and I opened her, as gently as my excitement would allow.

She split easier than I had, and her inner labia came puffing out at me as her petals unfolded. They were plump, meaty flanges, a salmon color that looked delicious to my admiring eyes, and as I spread them, I could see her clit, already well on its way to full arousal not to mention the liquid jelly that coated the tender fleshed mouth of her snatch itself. As she opened up, too, there was a delightful aroma of sex that was suddenly much, much more intoxicating than the Colombian we'd blown together a few minutes ago. I looked at her pussy for another moment, drinking it in with my eyes, and then I had to begin drinking it in with my lips and tongue.

"Mmmmmmmm," I heard her sing into my own pussy, the vibrations exciting me nearly as much as her tongue work. "It really is a big deal, isn't it, Barbara?"

"Bet your ass it is," I agreed throatily. A moment later I was in her, up to my ears.

I hadn't eaten girls that many times, to be truthful. Most of my experience had been with mutual masturbation; we'd only gotten down to lips and tits on rare occasions. I really wasn't very good at it. Or at least, I didn't think I was. But it seemed that the moment I got my tongue into Dierdre's pussy, I became an expert. I didn't know what I was doing, but my tongue had no doubts. It thrust and scooted about, slipping and sliding across the folds of her salmon-pink pussy, and before I knew it, I was sticking my tongue up her hole in a series of quick thrusting penetrations, going a little deeper each time. She was sticky in there, as far as my tongue could go, and the juices of her flooded into my mouth, sweet as honey and so delicious I wondered if I could ever stop feasting here, at her cunt.

I let my middle fingers take over the work of keeping Dierdre open, and my index fingers poked their way into her pussy, along with my tongue. She had the largest clit I've ever seen, a big, red protuberance that looked, from extreme close-up, as big as a busted thumb. And if it was extra large, it was also extra sensitive. She came, the first time, the moment my fingertips pinched off the base of her clitoris and skidded upward, slithering across the glisteny tip of the tender button. I heard her cry out "Aaaaaaaaiiieeeeee!" in a voice full of wonder and appreciation, and her pussy came slap-slap-slapping up at me, the hole's active muscles clutching furiously where my tongue was thrust between them. I thought she was going to pull the tongue right out of my mouth and suck it all the way up her cooze. But I don't think I'd have minded too much if she had.

Still, I felt a little jealousy, for she was coming like a bandit and here I was, not quite satisfied. I'd been close, by myself on the bed before she came in and she had me dangling now, just waiting for her to finish the job she'd begun.

Only Dierdre was selfishly enjoying her own orgasm, almost totally ignoring me. Her finger was in me, but it wasn't moving, and her tongue and lips had broken off their clever attacks on my labia and clit. I humped around on the bed, trying to remind her of what she was supposed to be doing, but she just lay there moaning and whimpering her pleasure.

"Bitch!" I growled, jerking my tongue out of her cunt. I replaced it with three fingers of my right hand, bunched into a spear like cluster. I stabbed her deeply, and she screamed again, a delirious keening cry of acceptance. Her pussy muscles rippled energetically around my fingers, and she was as wet as a girl can be without recourse to a bathtub. The juice was leaking out of her in torrents. I scooped up some of it with my left hand and massaged it into the fleshy swell of her pubic mound, coating the hairs with Dierdre's cuntal essences.

"Don't just lay there," I said finally. "Do something or let me have it!"

"Ohlih, sorrrryyyyy," she trilled, giggling. And then I wasn't sorry at all, because she gave it to me. I mean, really gave it to me! She covered my clit with her dripping mouth and she sucked, and she got me spread widely enough to take four fingers up my pussy, which was two more than I'd ever been able to get into myself at one time.

I couldn't stop screaming. So loudly, in fact, that it scared me. To muffle the cries of pleasure, I jerked my fingers out of Dierdre's way and sucked up a mouthful of hair and snatch, whimpering against the furry pillow of flesh as she gave me bloody hell. Her fingers hadn't looked especially big if anything, they seemed slender and delicate, as a girl's lingers ought to be but they felt like Johnny had come to life in my pussy. And the way her lips and tongue flogged and suckled my clit! She had me afire in six heartbeats, and she had me coming in six more. Really coming! It was ten times better than the one I'd been about to give myself on the bed before she came in. It was at least two times better than any other come I'd ever had. In all my life. Swear to God.

We came apart slowly, me shivering and trembling and sweating from every pore of my body. Dierdre had calmed down a little more than I, and she petted me indulgently as she rearranged herself on the bed, putting us face-to-face instead of face-to-cunt. I squirmed, anxious to feel her body against mine, and one of my hands shot up to stroke her tit where it peeked over the low top of her bra. The nipple was small and hard and my fingers closed upon it possessively. I squeezed her nipple as if it had been my own, and I heard her sigh deep in her chest. She put her own hands on my tits, and plied them delicately but determinedly. As her fingers teased and toyed with my nipples I felt another, briefer, come floating through me. I closed my eyes and swam into it, moaning wistfully.

I untied her hair ribbons and let the thick dark hair cascade onto her shoulders. It was as silky and tender to the touch as her beaver had proven to be, and there was so much of it! I combed her hair down with my fingers, found that it would reach to just below her breasts when it was given full rein. We made a little game out of that. I swirled her hair, made it veil her nipples, then moved in with my lips to part the hair and find the hidden brown treasure inside.