It was bound to happen. It had to. You know how it is. I don't have to tell you about it.
I bore her down upon the sand. I forced aside her vague, distracted fingers, ripped aside her encumbering clothes. I seated her naked ass upon the cold earth, and I plunged my vast cock into her with the force of a rape. I pounded at her like a mad thing. I would kill her if necessary with fucking. Her claws commenced to rake my back. She nearly strangled me with the power of her embrace as her breathing changed to gasps, and her gasps to cries. I felt fingernails digging into my buttocks. My toes scrabbled in the sand for resistance, I rose off my knees and slammed down into her, my balls battered against her heaving ass. She spread her thighs until they creaked and lashed at my back with her heels. I was pouring with sweat, and the hair of my chest was matted and rasping against her squashed tits. My hands clenched on her shoulders and pulled her torso against mine as hard as I could. With each gasp, she slammed her head harder against my neck and shoulder. Her hair slashed at my face and filled my panting mouth. Her cunt slung itself up and up against my driving loins, and rasping moans were torn from her throat with each lunge. And then I was coming, jetting hard spurts of sperm deep, deep, all over the floor of her heart. Her moans broke into a scream, and her teeth clamped upon my shoulder as she too came. She battered her cunt on my cock through the shuddering of her climax, harder, and then more softly, More softly.
We ground to a ragged halt.
For a long time, my sweating face lay pressed into the sand beside her shoulder. Our breathing began to still. Her cunt was still clenching now and then on my cock as slowly it wilted amidst our swimming juices.
I came back to the present. I looked down at her face. My God, it was Carla. Carla! I opened my mouth to speak who-knows-what words of confusion and remorse. But she placed a finger across my lips, and she breathed. "No. Not a word. Don't speak, my friend, don't speak."
We pulled apart, stickily. I looked down to watch my veined and shrinking cock emerge slowly from the red and smashed lips of her cunt. A thick gob of white semen washed backwards to ooze from her lips as my head finally parted from her. Her profuse, dark cunt hair was matted wetly away from her slit, and I bent my face slowly between her tumbled thighs to place a reverent kiss upon that reeking wound. The smell of her juices and my sperm was rich and sharp. As my nostrils and mind were swept with this intoxicating scent, my lips pressed softly against her swollen, slippery membranes. My cock began to stir again with the sensation. I began to suck deeply of her leaking, red flesh, softly to drink the sperm and cunt-juice which welled from her like thick blood. But she pulled me up and kissed me softly with her other lips, and she licked from my beard the nectar of cunt and cock which I had so recently been drinking from her own wet sex. She repeated herself: "Not a word. No more, Arthur. But don't say anything."
Well, it had been bound to happen. Five days of hiking with her through these Oregon mountains, five days of watching her in her elegant pirouettes. She had been teasing me, I think, allowing me to watch her bathe in snow-melt this morning, growing careless of what the firelight showed of her hands upon her husband's body. Tony had not been helping to hide their intimacies. And, when he and I were alone, the conversations had turned to sex. Casually, he had told me of her body, her pleasures, and, as casually, I had described the heady pleasures of Emily in bed. But Emily had not come along this time, being too involved in a thesis project, and it was just the three of us, three friends, three healthy humans, three ... well, you get the point.
And there was Tony, not two miles away, sunning himself through the afternoon beside this rushing river, unaware of the sudden change which had occurred. We had been playing with fire, as the saying goes. Carla's joy, her suppleness, her strength. She-and he-had kept me tingling for days. It had been bound to happen. Something anyway was necessary to relieve the tension. Masturbating was all very well, in fact I loved it dearly, but when listening to the slight sounds of Tony and Carla making love in their sleeping bag only feet away ... and then last night I'm certain they had known I was listening to them. The liquid sounds of Carla's mouth sucking him rose to a feverish pitch as his stifled gasps broke from his straining throat. Only that afternoon he had been telling me how much she loved to suck upon his cock, how she adored the slow tension which mounted in his muscles, the quivering which heralded his explosive orgasm. She loved the taste of come, he had said, licked it all into her mouth with an avid tongue, sucked it deep down her throat, dipped the last puddles up from his sweaty belly with a slender fingertip and tipped those drops onto the end of her tongue as though they were honey. And there she was now, licking and sucking his desperate cock! Through slitted eyes I could see the dark shape of her starlit head bobbing over him. I could hear the frenzied twitching of his arms and legs. I was beating off-and it felt so very good-and yet I yearned. Oh, I ached! I opened my bag so she could see my hand flying up and down my quivering cock if she should turn her head, and I listened to Tony's moans mixed with the wet sucking sounds of her soft mouth. I allowed myself to groan and thrash a little.
I wanted her to see me, to watch my beautiful cock as it came. I knew my chest, and belly, and hand would be bathed with come, and I wanted her to witness it. And she did! Oh, she did. As my hand flew faster and my cock grew even stiffer. Carla raised her head off of Tony and stared in my direction through the night. Her hands were flying up and down Tony's glimmering, wet cock, but her eyes were on me as I arched, arched, arched, and then camel And after I had come, I heard her give a trembling moan as she kneeled around, opened her cunt over Tony's mouth, and lowered her ass onto his face.
So it was bound to happen. You know how it is though. Something, some event, is coming toward you all the time, and yet, when it is there, you can only half believe it. They had been aching, I suppose for months, to share their sex. It was something everyone tried, after all, part of the ethos of our generation. They knew Karen was living with Emily and me, and the nature of the relationship must have been obvious. But, still, one never believes it. I hardly could, after Carla dressed again and we began meandering back along the riverbed to the camp. It wasn't really until we were replete with stew and secured by darkness that our conversation and our emotions began to encompass it all. Tony had certainly not been surprised by it. Perhaps they had even schemed the event.
With us intellectual types, it's only by talking about something that it becomes real. Our conversation analyzed and re-analyzed the whole event until we had gotten the emotions well enough corralled so they couldn't threaten us. But that way is a denial of the events themselves.
"We all need an access to lust," I said. "We need to be carried away."
"Yes?" mused Tony, a match to his pipe.
"This is much too decadent and sophisticated an idea, I'm sure, but to the thing is that most of us never have any access to lust. Oh, we may make love all our days, and yet we never touch the complete fulfillment of the desire to be with, which is, after all, what it's all about."
Carla snorted, but I was warming to my subject. "I mean, we all know what we want. We want to be drowned out completely. We want our selves, our personalities, to die. We want to be replaced with a totality, a wholeness, a ... a lust, for Cod's sake! Overcome with sex, nothing but cock, forever fucking. The thing is that lust is a totality, like hate, and greed, and all the rest. And love, charity, whatever. I'll bet you could take any one of the seven virtues or vices, express it so totally in your life that you became the thing, and then whatever you had begun with would no longer either be a virtue or a vice. It would just be it. As sinless, and subtle, and uncompromising as a god." I broke off. "Not a bad idea, that. I'll write a book about it someday."
"What do you think about all this Carla?" asked Tony.
"You talk too much, Arthur," said she, with her cat's eyes in the flames, "but I love you all the same."
"Well, it's all just for the fun of it."
"I'm cold," she answered. "Let's get into the bag, Tony. Warm me up."
"You know," I mused, after the general re-shuffling had occurred and we were all encased in our down cocoons, "I have an example of that access to lust in my own life."
Tony's voice came from the huddle across the fire. "What do you mean?"
"Emily. It all happened before we met you, about two years ago. We were going to split up...."
"We know."
"But you don't know what really happened."
"Hey, are you going to tell us a dirty story?" Carla asked.
"Well, as a matter-of-fact."
"Goody," she giggled. "Just let me get ready." I heard their bodies shifting around a bit and then heard Carla giggle some more. "No," she whispered, "put your hand there. Yes, oh yes. Oh, boy!" Then her voice came across to me again. "Now, Arthur, now tell me your dirty story."
CHAPTER ONE
The rain which had begun as a gentle drizzle now roared on the convertible top of Emily's car. In fact, it fell so heavily that she was unable to see clearly through the windshield. Her wipers hurried back and forth, doing the best job they could under the circumstances, but they could not clear the glass effectively. To make her situation even more unpleasant, she noticed suddenly that the needle of her fuel gauge read well below the Empty point.
Oh! If only she had had the sense to fill up when she passed through that last town. But it was too late for that now. There would hardly be another gasoline station up here in these damnable mountains, and even if she should pass one, she imagined, it would almost certainly be closed at this late an hour. In fact, it must be midnight or after. Damn! What was she doing up here anyway?
The best she could do, then, would be to proceed slowly and evenly in order to save as much fuel as she could. Perhaps if she could manage to drive as far as the pass, she'd be able to roll down onto the plains on the other side. And, in the meantime, if she did come to a station, she could, always park before its pumps and sleep reasonably well in the back seat until someone came to open up in the morning. All this practicality was perfectly sound, of course, but just at that moment she truly could not see why she had needed so desperately to leave Arthur-well, run out on him if you wanted to know the truth. For three years they had been constructing quite a pleasant life, even an exciting one. And now here she was, driving away into the night with an ache in her heart, stripped of understanding of what was happening. She felt like some rather obvious little tart of a wife in a mediocre movie. But here she was, for all of that, lost in these endless mountains, her handkerchief, predictably, soiled with tears.
She had slowed the car to thirty-five. Lightning began to flash around her, affording her piercing views of bent treetops against a hurtling, grey void. Thunder came with the lightning to shake the car on its foundations as a dog would an impertinent stick. The trees crept by at a snail's pace. She wasn't getting anywhere. She'd never reach the pass at this rate. The road she followed was totally deserted. For hours she had not seen another car. The black shapes of trees hemmed her in too tightly, and the winding climb allowed her no sense of relief from their embrace. She wanted space around herself, vision, a chance to rest. It was all too close, too loud. But the road kept drawing her higher and even higher, away from the range of human company, and away into a blackened and drenched landscape of fretful trees and conglomerate rocks. She tried the radio, but the storm around her so interfered with the radio waves that she heard only now and then a distant voice, thin and useless through the static.
Now too her roof began to leak. Just a little at first, a few drops, but as the storm beat upon the opening, the drops grew into a stream. Soon cold rainwater coursed down the windshield and splashed onto her skirt and knees. She grew ever more damp. The windshield was fogging up, and the defroster worked only poorly. The water dribbling down her calves grew warm from her body before it ran into her light shoes, and she realized that her toes were growing all squishy. She had come into an area of gusty winds, and the rain was now driven through her roof almost without slowing down. The car swayed drunkenly on the long curves. She slowed further. Her headlights, even, were dimmed by the heaviness of the rain. How high was this pass? Wouldn't she ever get there? Why had she come? Why, why, why had she left herself without gas? It was at that moment that a pair of wrought-iron gates came into view on the right. They were so out of place that she hardly realized what they were until she was nearly past. She had an impression of space though, as her headlights fleeted over them, but no lightning came to show her more. The gates had seemed to be hung on stone pillars. There had been a board, perhaps with a name or a warning upon it, which swung in the wind. She slowed the car. There had been no sign of a house. She pulled the car to the shoulder of the road and stopped. She was growing wetter by the minute. Certainly, it was far too late to call upon strangers, and yet the thought of sleeping in the car was increasingly unappealing. And she might as well admit to herself that she'd never find any gas now. Already the engine had choked once or twice. There! It missed again. Oh, God.
She looked backwards through the red glow of her taillights to where the gates had been. But this was too cliched a situation; I mean, really! A lonely house on a hill, probably Victorian, a crashing storm, a girl in distress. Straight out of Mary Shelley and the gothics. It embarrassed her, so conventional a scene was it. It embarrassed her, and she pulled the car once more out into the road.
But she was not destined to go far. Before she had traveled another mile, the car's spluttering had become so marked that she knew escape from that house back there was impossible. Had she been able to go a few miles more, she would have slept in the car, wet, but spared the necessity of appearing like a half-drowned kitten appealing for shelter in the middle of the night. She turned the car with its last drops of gas, and commenced to roll back through the storm. There was always the chance, of course, that no one would be home, and she could sleep in the car anyway, secure in her anonymity yet knowing she had done all she could.
She braked to a halt before the gate. An opportune flash of lightning showed a driveway and a copse of trees into which it disappeared. And the name upon the signboard was "Black."
The crash of thunder which followed even as the lightning was still vivid in her eyes stunned her. She panicked. She found herself clutched before the gate, wet through, tugging at the bars with frantic hands. The lightning came again, and the thunder. The noise seemed to still the very blood in her veins. The shock of it thrust her against the wet, cold bars like a blow from a battering ram. Dimly she realized that her own voice was bellowing in her ears, screaming and screaming to drown out the thunder.
She tried to pull herself together. It was just thunder. Just a big noise. Thunder couldn't hurt you. It's okay, Emily, she kept soothing herself, it's okay, it's okay. Oh God, where was Arthur?
She returned to the car, pulled out an old raincoat, closed it uselessly around her shivering body, pocketed her keys, and locked the door. She walked calmly to the gate. She could see no bell to ring. She tried the bars again. They were not locked, but they were closed by a complicated latch which. had defeated her earlier panic. She unfastened the gate and pushed it open. The drive led in front of her. Rain pelted her from behind, and the wind seemed to lift and shove her down the road. She felt the water seeping through coat and clothing to drench her with another ooze. Lightning struck again, and the thunder came, but she was prepared, vigilant against terror. She did not even turn her head. She clutched the coat together in front of herself with white little hands, carried her face stiffly, and marched into the utter darkness between the trees. The coat was useless, of course, better suited to a lady like drizzle than to this gale, but she kept it pulled determinedly to her as the trees whipped her and the wind rose to a howl.
Finally, the drive left the trees. She had followed pale, white stones through the darkness, all that she could see, but now she was out. again in a rolling, landscaped country which the lightning revealed to extend far along the mountain slopes in each direction. She caught glimpses of other wooded areas, of small outbuildings, of what probably should have been graceful shade trees now gusted into writhing monstrosities. Someone very substantial lived here. The name Black meant nothing to her, save that symbolically it was apt for this night. Probably an eccentric woman of Victorian vintage, a Miss Havisham keeping herself in timeless splendor. Or, more formidable still, a tall and cadaverous gentlemen involved in mysterious experiments who would lock her in a basement and allow her only the company of his large, mute servant named, unfailingly, Igor.
Whoever it was, he was certainly enamored of seclusion. The lightning still uncovered no sign of a house. Emily was beginning to wonder whether after all if she oughtn't return to the car when the drive angled around a hillock and down, and she saw the cluster of roofs which she knew must belong to the main house. It was situated, so far as she could tell, in the fold of a hill, backed by the imposing mountains she had been trying to cross, and looking out across what was probably miles upon miles of the lowlands. Carefully sited plantings softened the shape of the house against the hill. She noticed that before a low garage were drawn up four or five expensive cars, putting their unquestionably immaculate polishes to the great test. The house itself was wide, of stone, and three stories high. It boasted gabled roofs and turrets, and a long, wide veranda fronted it. And, to her excitement, there were lights not only in some of the upper windows but coming through a series of tall French windows along one wing.
Drenched, Emily climbed the stone steps of the veranda. The front door was dark, so she walked to the French windows instead. She would have liked to peek in to see what sort of people they were, but heavy drapes cut off her view. She straightened her hair, took a deep breath, thought for one instant of the car, and knocked.
Nothing happened.
She knocked more loudly.
Still she roused no response.
She felt rather deflated. What should she do now? She gave one more louder knock on the glass and turned to see if she might not be able to attract the attention of someone upstairs. But just as she did this, the drapes were swept aside, and she found herself looking into the handsome face of a man of about forty years who wore a .comfortable-looking smoking jacket. A look of immediate concern crossed his features, and the door was swung wide to admit her.
"Oh, thank you. Thank you. It's so wet!"
"But, my dear, of course. Whatever can have happened? Do come in."
"I ran out of gas,. you see, and I saw your gate, and I-"
"Thank God you were close by! What a terrible night to be stuck on the road."
She had entered the room by this time, and he closed the window again firmly. She stood dripping by the glass and felt intensely awkward. The room was a large one, rather baronial, and was dominated by a friendly fire in a massive, stone fireplace. The couches and chairs looked inviting. Save for the two of them, the room was empty.
"I'm afraid I'm rather wet," she said nervously. She realized that she was shivering as well.
"Well, of course you are. Now, don't worry about the carpets. It won't hurt them. You just come over her by the fire to get warm. Come on now! I'll not have you catching pneumonia in my house." He took her elbow and guided her toward the fire. Emily felt enormously relieved to have stumbled upon such a gentleman. He would take care of her, she knew, and see that she was all right. There was nothing to worry about now. She allowed herself to be led as a little child might.
"Now, that's better, isn't it?"
"Oh yes! It's so cold out there."
"Give me your coat, my dear, and I'll just hang it out to dry."
Emily peeled out of the clinging coat. She knew her clothing was soaked, and she felt somewhat uneasy about the fact that she was not wearing a bra. She had the sort of physique which is slender but sports quite massive breasts. Her nipples, she knew, were erect with the cold and from rubbing against the wet silk of her blouse. She was aware that this man could see most of the contours and details of her body as she struggled from the wet garment, aware also that her breasts themselves were wobbling quite obviously as they hung from her chest. In point of fact, she saw in the mirror over the fireplace, her breasts were not actually as exposed as she feared they might be. Her nipples did stand out like cones, yes, and the darker color of them could even dimly be seen through the wet silk, but the rest of her blouse did not cling too tightly. Her hair, though, was a wreck.
But after all he did not allow her to be embarrassed. He hardly glanced at her body as he took her coat. "Now." He hung the coat over his arm and asked her, "What can I do to help your' Emily was at a loss. She supposed that she wanted to spend the night, but one could hardly ask such a thing. Mainly, toward the end of her walk, she had just wanted to get away from that awful rain. "Well, I ... that is to say, I'm out of gas, don't you see, by your gate. If you had some gas...." She allowed her voice to trail away.
"Nonsense! You'll stay the night of course." He looked at her for a moment. "A nightgown, I think. Something warm and flannely. And a robe."
"Oh, but I couldn't-"
"None of that. You will, and that's all there is to it. I'll just go and fetch my wife."
And that last word resolved the issue for Emily. Any small, lingering doubts she might have had, all of the Frankenstein situations, were banished from her mind. Here was shelter; here was peace. The fire began to warm her. "You're too kind."
"Not at all, not at all."
Before he turned, he gave her a thorough looking-over, but she did not mind any longer. If her form pleased him, it was little enough payment for the fire and his was welcome. And he was, when all was said and done, a handsome devil. She glanced his way again and discovered that she was alone.
She had a moment to look around. She didn't want to leave the fire, whose warmth was seeping slowly through her clothes, but she saw that the room was both old and tastefully appointed. It was a library, and her host had been sitting reading a volume of poetry. An empty snifter winked from the floor beside his chair.
And then she heard footsteps in the hallway. He returned accompanied by his wife. The latter carried a nightgown and robe, a towel and a hairbrush, and she wore a concerned expression. She was dressed formally in a full length dress of embroidered white material which was very decollete. Her skin seemed smooth and flawless in the indirect light and the swells of wide breasts under the cloth more sculptural than sexual. Immediately she bustled forward, all of a dither with sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing! You're so wet. Adrian told me we had a foundling, but I had no idea! And you walked all the way from the road? And through such a storm. Adrian, you go down to the kitchen and make a hot cup of something. Tea?"
"Tea would be lovely." Emily was amused by the woman's kindly effusion.
"Tea, then. And we'll just change our clothes before the fire here, won't we?" The woman laid the nightgown out before the flames to warm it. "Go on now, Adrian, or this poor girl will catch her death!"
But he was watching Emily's body again as she thankfully brushed her tangled hair. Lifting her arms like that did wonderful things with her breasts.
"Adrian! Off with you." Emily caught a wink from him as he turned. "You mustn't blame Adrian for staring, my dear. You're so attractive and so ... revealing."
"Yes," replied Emily in confusion. "Yes, I suppose I am."
"Well, let's not think of that now. You just slip out of those wet things, and I'll be back in a moment."
Looking around to make entirely certain she was alone, rather cautiously Emily began to undress. She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it stickily away from her heavy breasts. Her skin felt cold, despite the fire, and she saw in the mirror that her nipples were as tightly wrinkled as she thought they were. She put her fingers to them, to coax them into softening a little, but they were determined to stay erect. To unzip her pleated skirt, she crossed her left arm across her chest, and the action caused her breasts to sway outward like lovely, pale mountains. She slipped the skirt down over her hips. En doing so, the wet material drew her pale blue panties down as well, exposing the cleavage of her buttocks to the firelight. A few strands of her thick pubic bush curled up in front. She pulled her panties back up, protecting her soft cunt lips from view, and allowed the skirt to fall to the floor around her feet.
She sat on the edge of the couch for a moment to gather her clothes together. Though she was trying to be quick about changing, she paused for a moment with her thighs parted as a pulse of heat beat upon her dark cunt. She had always loved the heat of a fire on her body. Her legs sagged open more loosely. Nervous sweat had made her damp in the crotch, and she caught an errant whiff of her own musky scent. Her cunt itched. She shoved her right hand inside the cup of her panties and scratched herself idly while her memory conjured up luscious images of the fantasies she habitually used while playing with her body in front of a fire somewhere. She had masturbated almost constantly as a teenager-and she did still, though less frequently now that she was married. The knowledge of how easy it would be to arouse herself in this still house caused a hollow sensation to grow in the pit of her belly. She withdrew her hand and lifted it to her nostrils to catch the thick, odorous memory of many long caresses. How fine to manipulate her breasts, and her cunt, and her asshole as the wind shrieked powerlessly outside! She pressed her palm heavily against the soft, pouting pudendum which hung plumply in its pantie covering. She knew it so well! She loved the pleasure it could give her. She loved the long, uncomplicated masturbation which she knew would make that cunt just yearn and yearn for more of the same. A tail of a thought passed across her mind then, something about Arthur, but the immediate heaviness of her cunt in her hand was too important for her to follow that thought to its conclusion. She could feel the familiar moisture beginning to seep in her slit. Her thick hair made such a nice, crinkling feeling as she smoothed her hand down and down!
But then she heard footsteps in the house, and quickly she slipped the nightgown over her head. It was her hostess striding back into the room. But just as the woman opened her mouth to speak, Emily heard the sound of gentle music begin somewhere in the house. It was a sound which swelled softly and tantalizingly.
"What's that music?" she asked.
"Some friends of ours are practicing," her hostess replied in a vague sort of way. The woman began spreading her clothing before the fire. "This is a lovely blouse."
"Thank you. It's from Bali. I saw the cars outside. You must have other guests."
"Just some old friends staying for a few days." Again she changed the subject. "Were you in Bali yourself?"
"Oh no! I could hardly afford that. I wish I had been though. I'm told it's lovely."
"It is."
"You've been there?"
"Oh yes."
"Someday, perhaps...."
"Well, it isn't expensive once you get there."
"But getting there is the thing. But, look here! I must be keeping you from your real guests. I'm so sorry."
"That's all right. I can join them later. They're just making a little music now."
Emily thought it a little odd that they should be playing at this hour, but as the other woman seemed to prefer not to speak of it, she changed the subject herself. "Incidentally, I'm Emily Alexander."
"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Emily." They sat on the couch, and Emily drew her legs warmly up underneath herself. "I'm Laura Black, and that was my husband Adrian you met before.
"This is a very nice house you have."
"We like it. It's out of the way, don't you know, and that's what we want when we're in this country."
"You travel a lot then, do you?"
"Yes. We have business interests in Africa and the Far East. We're out of the States about five months every year, I would guess." Emily, who had never been able to travel, was impressed. "It sounds a very glamorous life."
Mrs. Black gave a pretty laugh. "I suppose it is. I don't mean to sound worldly-wise, but one grows accustomed to it."
"Yes, I suppose one does."
Mr. Black entered the room then with a tea tray laden with a shiny silver service and a collection of little sandwiches. The cultivated, international aura of the house swept over Emily as she told Mrs. Black whether she took one lump or two. Mr. Black sat down again in his original armchair. Again, the hypnotic quality of the music impinged upon Emily. Everything was so very still in the house except for that pulsing beat. There was a pause in the small conversation as they all took their first sips, and Emily paid her rescuers another compliment upon their musical friends.
"Yes, they do a very professional job," replied Adrian, but then he too shifted the focus by asking her something about the condition of the roads. And that was a subject upon which she could wax lyrical. Encouraged by their exclamations, she found herself talking quite freely, and it soon must have been clear to them what her situation was. In fact, she alluded to Arthur and to her flight from him frequently. It was an enormous relief even to mention the fact to someone, to make it less terrifying, conversable.
Neither of her listeners said a word until she had finished her monologue. She sat quietly, in confusion, for a moment, and then burst out with apologies.
"Hush, hush," purred Mrs. Black, patting her knee.
"Then you really haven't any particular destination?" asked Mr. Black.
"No. I, well, I don't know-"
"Then, Emily, I think it best for you to stay here for a few days. Please accept the offer of our hospitality. I'm sure my wife would be pleased."
"Oh, Mr. Black, I-"
"Adrian."
"And call me Laura."
"Well, thank you. That's very kind of you. But I couldn't, honestly. You don't even know me, and-"
"Now, now. We'll speak of it again in the morning. Perhaps if the weather has cleared, you'll at least allow me to show you over the grounds?"
"I'd be delighted. But please don't go out of your way."
"Nonsense, my dear. No trouble at all. Do you ride?"
"Well, I used to a little, as a girl...."
"Then it's settled. We'll have a lovely time."
"But I'm sure-"
"You mustn't argue, Emily," Laura interjected. "You have to understand that Adrian enjoys nothing better than showing off."
"Well, yes, it will be ever so nice," and she smiled quite sweetly at her host.
He, in turn, drained his cup, smiled back, and said, "Now, perhaps, I'll show you to your room. You must be tired."
"Yes, I am really. I'd like to go to bed." But on the contrary, she felt quite alive. She seemed light and very warm to herself, floaty almost. Maybe there had been something unusual about the tea. Or more likely it was something about the indolence of the big, quiet house. And the kindness, and the relief. She stood up with a sensation of complete contentment.
"I'll leave you in Adrian's hands then," said Laura, rising, "and bid you good night here."
"Thank you so much for the nightgown, and the tea, and, oh, just everything! You've been so kind."
"Enjoy your rest, sweet Emily." The woman kissed her lightly upon the cheek and turned to walk away.
Adrian and Emily followed her out into a dim, imposing entrance hall at the base of the wide stairs where they made their last good nights. Emily watched Laura then open a small door under the staircase, one clearly leading to a basement, and descend. And when the door had opened, the music had swelled in volume.
The size of the house was accentuated by the shadows which waited in the corners. Emily climbed behind her host, treading silently upon the carpeted steps. Faint illumination only came from small, shaded wall lamps. Adrian offered no communication as they rose, and they encountered no other people. Emily was happy to fall into his mood and employ herself in staring at the dark faces and other reliefs which were carved everywhere into the woodwork.
On the third floor, Adrian led the way down a corridor past several shut doors. He stopped outside one such, pushed it open, reached inside for a light switch, and handed her through into her bedroom. Her heart turned over inside her. It was like walking into a bedroom in a fairy tale. A high, ancient, canopy bed dominated the scene. The floor was thickly carpeted.
A fire was laid ready for the match in a white marble fireplace. Dresser, vanity, writing desk and chair, bed table, armchair before the fire, everything was perfect! One entire wall was made of a mirror which had dark, golden veins within its depths and gilt chasing across its face. The color scheme was cream and blue, and this was picked out by an admirably chosen Renoir, a portrait of Madame Monet, which hung in an ornate frame over the mantle. The hot, dusty air of a summer Parisian afternoon seemed to waft through the painting, flowing over the lounging, exquisite creature in her long, blue gown.
Adrian first drew gauzy white curtains across the rain-dark windows and touched a match to the fire. Then he showed Emily the connecting bathroom. "I think you'll find everything you need."
"Oh, Mr. Black! How perfect it all is!"
He smiled at her. "Remember: Adrian."
"Adrian. Yes, I'm sure I'll be very comfortable." She skipped across the room and sat happily upon the bed. "A canopied bed!"
"Only the best for our waif from the rain."
She ran up to him again, flushed and excited by it all, and took his hand in both her own. "Thank you for being so kind."
"It's nothing. Now, don't forget our date for tomorrow. Anytime you wake up."
"I never would forget."
He leaned forward and, rather to her surprise, kissed her quite sensuously upon the mouth. She was too startled to react at first, but then a second later she recognized that she didn't care to stop him after all. It was all so sumptuous. The room, the kiss, everything! She closed her eyes and kissed him back, her hands coming somewhat tentatively to rest on his hips. She leaned further toward him so that the points of her breasts might brush against his jacket. And then he was wishing her goodnight and shutting the door.
She stood bereft for a moment in the middle of the room, not quite knowing what to do. She wasn't certain just what she had expected from kissing him, but this wasn't it. But she was, after all, just a guest here, a chance stranger in trouble upon the road. Ah well. She turned to explore the room.
And what a room it was! If one had to be stranded, this was certainly the place to be stranded in. She had a chance now to look at Mme. Monet and at the several other Impressionist painters who were represented. Their luscious Mediterranean visions seemed to make the room all the, more luminous. Too, the bedside books were that splendid, eclectic accumulation typical of guest rooms and summer homes. And all the while, as she tried each chair, she was conscious of her reflection in the mirror wall. She found it a warm and absorbing narcissism. One eye always looked back upon herself, as she moved about the room, and her gestures grew increasingly deliberate.
She gave the bathroom a functional examination. As she sat upon the toilet, she realized that the force of rain and the skin of wind had diminished considerably. A silence began to grow around her. Such an enormous house, yet so still! The flushing toilet was an intrusion. As she walked upon the thick pile back into her bedroom and saw the flickering lights of the fire upon the white ceiling, so deliciously was she cut off from the storm, from the ground, that she was nearly overcome by a swoon. No one knew where she was! She had escaped.
She felt a tendency to weep coming closer. Here, she might surrender herself to despair. It had all come to an end, and still she did not know just why she had driven away so furiously. Poor Arthur. What must he think? Oh, God! But as she began to be overcome by her grief, she noticed herself again in the mirror. A rather tall and quite slim girl with a head of perpetually disarrayed, dark honey hair. And a handsome face. Hardly beautiful, no, no matter how she angled it, not beautiful. But handsome. Unique. And, coming closer to the mirror, she caught a glint of amusement in her eye. Handsome eyes, and a very wide mouth, which now she twitched with a practiced, ironic grin. After all, it was just herself. What point was there in recrimination? She had done it, and she was here, and that was all there was to it. By God. And she grinned at herself again. Way up atop this silent house, alone with a fire. She angled her torso so that, apparently by accident, her astounding breasts were clearly visible. Here she was, all by herself, in this wonderful room, with a cheerful fire and the rain dying outside. Here she was, surrounded by the silence and the luxury, safe, alone. And she winked at herself in the mirror. Already there was a slight hollow in her belly. Perhaps she ought to go and look at the fire. Yes, indeed. How she did adore a fire. Ho hum. Now, let's see. Let's just stand before the fire and-oh, a stretch! She thrust her arms over her head and raised herself vibrantly upon her tiptoes. But as she did it, she swung slightly so that her reflection might be caught from the corner of one eye. Ah! There's that girl again. And what enormous tits she does have. Yes sir. Quite wonderfully massive breasts. How proud she must be of them! Her emblem, her extraordinary femininity.
And again she chuckled at her audience. Strange, how a fire made her feel. Strange that breasts which were too big, far too big to be aesthetic, could suddenly appear so terrifically erotic. If the truth were known, they were far more a problem than an asset. They made it hard to buy clothes. She had to wear terribly tight bras to enjoy any sort of athletic activity. Until Arthur had bought a water bed, she had found it too painful to sleep on her stomach. They elicited quite unwanted and usually unpleasant comments from passing men. But now, and she turned back toward the fire, now they hung from her chest with a song. As he raised her hands shyly to cup their weight. Heat bathed her feet and ankles. She lifted the hem of her gown so that it bathed her calves as well. Her head fell loosely back upon her shoulders as she felt warm air circulating up under the flannel and twining round her legs. She spread her thighs a little to allow the air more freedom with her body. The light hair on her legs stirred slightly in the current. She felt as though she were a balloon: almost as if the warmth would lift her and support her as she lay effortlessly upon the air. She raised the gown still higher. A sudden glimpse in the mirror revealed spread calves and half her thighs upon which played the fire. Her hands held the fucked up gown, and her hips were canted forward, throwing her belly and the descending slopes below it-into relief. Had anyone been watching, she fancied, how anxious they would be to see even more of her arched legs! Coquettishly, she lifted the material even more. She could imagine the glow in her audience's, eyes as they saw her smooth thigh flesh being made nude before their eyes. Her own eyes held the same glow, in fact, and she pleased herself yet more by continuing the slow revelation. And now the first hint of her blue-covered, pouting V came into view. There, slung between her arching thighs, lay her most intimate part, and she knew that it was her cunt that they wanted to see.
Her cunt! Oh, her cunt. Already, she could feel the growing heat in her cunt. Already, the eyes of her audience were having their erotic effect.
With a single flowing motion, she raised the gown entirely over her head and dropped it upon a convenient chair. Now she stood tall! Now her audience might feast their eyes upon her great, melon-shaped breasts and marvel that they could be supported by so slender a girl. They envied her, she knew, envied those two white mountains with which she could attract any man. Merely to see them was enough. The mere sight of them drove men to distraction. It made them furious to explore that wealth of heavy, swaying flesh with their fingers and tongues. And her broad nipples began to erect themselves as she felt the pressure of lust upon her, as she felt all those eyes upon her, watching her, needing her.
Emily looked back into the reflection of those eyes. Just knowing what was about to happen excited her. She hardly needed to touch herself to feel the beginnings of an engorgement of her clit. She was going to beat herself off, make herself come perhaps again and again in the utter privacy of this room. No one knew she was here. Arthur, her friends, her parents, no one could get at her. She was in a magic world high above the rest of the people, a waif as Adrian had said, taken in and given a wonderful, warm room to live in, a room with a fire which just cried out for her to lie before it and masturbate. She was safe, and she was completely unto herself, and she was going to make such love to herself as she had never done.
The armchair was broad and deep and extremely comfortable. She pulled it as close to the fire as she could before lowering herself luxuriently into its embrace. The upholstery was warm and soft against her back. She allowed her legs to sag apart as the happy fire threw its heat against her smooth inner thighs and the tumbling prominence of her cunt. She slumped down farther into the chair, feeling the crotch of her thin and tantalizing panties sink tightly against the thick lips and moistening creases which it covered.
Her fingers rested lightly upon her splayed, wallowing breasts. Ahhh! The pleasure simply of touching them was enormous. With her fingertips, she gently rolled her rising nipples until they stood out like wrinkled fingers. Each little roll pinched the skin and quivered all the way down to her pussy. And there the heat of the fire and the heat welling slowly from within her were making a puddle of wetness, of sweat and anticipation and her own warm syrup. She knew just how splendid it would feel when she first ran a smooth finger down into her wet slit. She trembled a little at the thought of how her clit would swell and preen until she had found it with her fingertip and stroked its smooth, hot head. Her cunt would be heavy and slobbery in her hand as she made it come. She would grind her cunt up against her masturbating hands until the lips gorged wide and the slippery red flesh inside slopped against her palm. Her juices would be running thickly, drenching her hands, and she would slid two or three fingers deep into her hot hole. More fingers would craze her clit. Her muscles would stiffen, and with a jerk she would be coming. Her tits would thrash from side to side in her ecstasy. She would grit her teeth, writhe her body, and come a second time. And a third. She would come and come until she was drained of cunt-juices and her hands lay limply and stickily upon her abused thighs.
The thought of it was terrific. She knew she was going to come. To come! Oh, so soon to come.
She lifted one of her heavy breasts and sucked her rigid nipple into her mouth. She bit gently upon it, rolled it around with her tongue, and the first groan of real pleasure escaped from lips nearly stuffed with white titflesh. She thought of having milk to suck, of having it warm and sweet in her mouth, and she imagined it spurting from her big nipple like a man's come, leaping and squirting in heavy, hot gobs into her mouth. Her other breast she took in her whole hand and shifted lazily about upon her chest.
She crossed her ankles now, and stretched her legs out until her thigh muscles creaked. The lips of her swelling cunt mashed wetly together across her erected clit. The little clit gave a flash of pleasure at the pressure. The hand rolling her big breast snaked down across her neat belly to grab the top edge of her panties and pull them up so that the crotch band sank deeply between her hairy lips. Each tug seated the soaked nylon band deeper inside her wet cunt-slit and tightened the pressure against her clit. And her gorgeous loose lips hugged the band inside themselves until the material completely disappeared up inside her. Now the crotch band was sunk wetly into her wonderful, thick sporran, soaking itself in her gushing cunt juice.
Her eyes were tightly closed as she released her tit from her sucking lips and ran both hands down her body toward the hairy cunt which was beginning to cry for relief. She reached underneath her hot ass and pulled the panties up in back too. The band was now brushing her sensitive asshole and her clit with each tug upon its edge. One hand cupped the steaming, hairy lips which had been puffed aside while the other continued to masturbate by pulling on her panties.
And her mind began to wander, as it always did when she masturbated. Once, years ago, she had come upon a woman making love to herself in the woods. A lovely woman, lying back upon a mossy bank in the dappled sun, but with her skirt pulled high to her waist and her two hands masturbating a flowing, red-haired cunt. Emily had hidden to watch, had slid a hand inside her stuffed shirt to squeeze a handful of breast-flesh as she watched, the woman begin to hump herself harder and harder against her flashing hands. And then the woman had rolled partially onto her stomach, had drawn one exquisite leg high and, as Emily watched, had sunk one long, red-nailed finger joint by joint into her puckered asshole. One hand still masturbated frantically, while the other penetrated slowly and succulently in and Out of the clinging asshole which was tilted toward Emily's eyes. The sight was electrifying, and Emily was quick to pull down the top of her pants and grab her cunt hard as it came by itself. And then the woman had come, slowly, agonizingly, with vast, wrenching heaves. And she lay spent upon the moss before raising her wet-fingers to her mouth and gently sucking her own dripping juices from them. Until that moment, it had never occurred to Emily to taste her own cunt, but she too cautiously lifted wet fingers. With thumping heart, she had touched her creamy cunt water to her tongue, and the taste was flamboyant and exotic. She dipped, down for another fingerful, and another, with the sun beating on her, and her pants down around her knees. She scooped up her cuntjuice and drank it like nectar.
"Tastes good, doesn't it?"
Her heart had leaped with fear. She had forgotten the woman. Now the other stood over her with a knowing smile upon her face. "You like your own cunt, don't you."
And to dissemble would be foolish. "Yes," she answered in a quavering voice.
"Taste it again," came the command. She obeyed, with eyes downcast.
"What's it taste like?" I don't know.
"Like honey, doesn't it?"
"I ... I guess so."
"Shall I taste it for you?"
"No!" But what would have happened if she had? Emily's masturbation grew more frantic as she imagined what might have happened. It was a picture, simply, without story line, of that red-haired cunt and its flowing juices pressed against her, of fingers and even tongues in her own slit.
But the woman had smiled and said instead, "You were watching me, weren't you?"
"Well, I...."
"Weren't you?"
"Yes."
"It excited you."
"Well, yes."
"Show me what you did to yourself."
"I couldn't, I...."
"Show me!"
And still with downcast eyes, miserable Emily had been forced to beat off for the woman, to run her hands down into her heavy muff and open her lips so the woman could see her fingers dancing over her clit. But as she masturbated, she grew more excited. She knew that she was arousing the woman again, for the latter stood and massaged her own breasts as she told Emily what to do with her fingers. The woman towered over her, into the sun, as Emily beat her furry snatch against her masturbating fingers. Emily's enormous breasts had swung so mightily inside her shirt that its buttons had worked open, .and her quivering mounds had emerged partially, pushing themselves erotically against the material, bursting to be in view. And then the woman had slid one hand down inside the top of her skirt and cupped her own cunt. Emily could see the hand against her skirt, and the knowledge that the woman was about to come herself tripped Emily over her own peak.
And back in the bedroom, she was growing closer to that same orgasm. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her tits were joggling across her chest. Her hands were buried in the tightly splayed cunt gash hauling her panties frenziedly against her clit. She had watched a woman masturbating in the woods once, but the rest was pure imagination. She loved to enhance that story. Sometimes the woman masturbated for her. Sometimes there was a man also, and he beat his great cock off all over her body. She came frequently as his imaginary drops of sperm burned upon her writhing flesh. Sometimes even the woman and the man would masturbate for each other, watching each other's avid fingers, racing to come.
And that was like what had happened one day as she lay upon the water bed at home with her fingers flickering over her cunt. At the very moment of purest ecstasy, Arthur had walked in. He had been shocked, furious, his puritanical upbringing outraged, but she had been unable to stop. She had lain there in an agony of coming, horrified that he should have discovered her, and yet so totally wound into her impending climax that her hands continued to sing their song upon her clit. She had lifted her head to look at him, her neck straining, her face and breasts flushed with pleasure, her juices so runny they squished loudly with each inward plunge of her hand, and she had watched his expression change from one of horror to one of lust.
A wash of gratification had swept across her as she saw his eyes dimming and his face slackening with need. She knew then how the heavy smell of her musky cunt was arousing him, how the sight of an uptilted and eager cunt being beaten off by slender, come-dripping fingers was making his cock stiff in his pants. She could see the bulge rising, stirring to see her masturbating her cunt.
And so she had slowed down, deliberately making a show of the self-pleasuring. She parted her legs to give him a long view of the hairy snatch she knew he loved so well. She let him watch as she curled one long finger down through the matted, wet hair which crowned her wide and prominent cunt, down around her plump, stiff little clit, down through the red and sticky inner lips, down until it dipped, fingernail first, and then joint after joint up, up, up into her burning hot hole. Her other fingers were stiffly spread against her soaking pussy, only the middle finger having disappeared into her hairy lips. Arthur had been hypnotized by the sight of her finger slowly masturbating in and out, glimmering with her thick juices, and he had slowly opened his pants until his thick, red erection had sprung out into view. His eyes never left her cunt, and his fingers slowly closed around his cock. And then he came forward to kneel before her like a supplicant, kneel before the altar of her cunt.
And so she had performed the ritual for him, singing in her heart to know that she might thus excite him. Her finger came slowly from her dripping hole to caress her clit in small circles. Her other hand rose to squeeze her shuddering breasts, to pummel them until they were red with blood, to pinch her nipples until her cunt made her head spin with its need for a vast come. And all the while, Arthur looked on with no expression save that of lust, his mind paralyzed, and his fingers active.
And as she began to come, as she knew that the control was going, she slid her legs together and flung her hands against her clit. The orgasm was sweeping over her, her entire body quivering, as she heard from far, far away Arthur's voice chanting to her. "Come, Emily. Come now. Make it come. Make it come. Make it come." And it was upon her, and she vanished for a long, shuddering second, and she beard a lurching grunt as she began to slide back down into life. Before her eyes, the tip of Arthur's cock erupted in huge, long, white streamers of sperm, blasting high into the air over her still trembling body. She felt them splashing hotly across her belly and tits to run in burning rivers across her flesh and down onto the bedspread. As the pulses began to die and the last come to dribble out and down across her husband's fingers, Emily smoothed the warm come across her stomach and spread it to coat her breasts.
Emily shuddered through her orgasm on the chair before the fire. Gradually, she relaxed. Her thighs fell open again. Her hands trailed of their own weight across her thighs and hung downward toward the floor. Her eyes were still shut, but they were quiet now. She had come.
But Arthur had been ashamed and disgusted by his lust, and they had never repeated that wonderful performance. Too bad, she thought, as her hands again rose to her cunt. She had enjoyed that more even than anything else, except perhaps his mouth on her pussy. Slowly, she pulled the stretched and drenched panties away from her slit. She raised them to her face and breathed deeply of the odor of her cunt. Using one hand to smear the thick cream across her nose and mouth and eyes, she masturbated herself to another climax.
She stood then, naked, and noticed that the fire had burned down. She dropped another log or two into place. The flames leaped up, and she caressed herself standing before their heat. Sweat was glistening on her heaving body now, and she smoothed her hands ecstatically across her billowing flesh. The smell of her armpits aroused her, and she thrust her nose as close to one as she could so as not to miss any of the fragrance. The wet and sumptuous hairs which nestled there like a small cunt were suffused with the scent. She drew some sweat up with a finger and licked it off with her long tongue. She opened her cunt lips to the flame and allowed the heat to play upon her stretched clit. And she beat herself off yet again, nearly collapsing off her tottering legs as she came for the third time.
She was in an agony of self-pleasure. She couldn't stop. She made herself come again. She needed something in her cunt, something hard up her cunt, and yet there was nothing. Her fingers were too short to reach all the way up. She stuck them into her asshole, but it wasn't enough. She tore at her nipples, bit them, bruised them with her teeth. Her cunt was on fire as she came yet again. She lay on her stomach on the bed with a pillow rolled up between her thighs, humping it frantically while one hand ploughed her asshole and the other gripped her squashed breast tip. Again, she came.
Frantically she searched the room. There must be something. It was no longer a comfortable place. One more orgasm, just one more, a final one, an enormous one, one such as she had rarely felt. She needed to drown out the lust with one last mighty ecstasy. She hated the room which kept her from completion. Damn it, there must be something. Somewhere. Oh, please. Please! I have to come again. I have to come.
And then she found it. There it was, right in the bed-table drawer as though left for her to use. A vibrator. A long, white vibrator such as she secretly had at home. And she began to come even as she saw it, began the final come which she completed on the bed, her legs drawn back, the vibrator deep within her, and her fingers lashing upon her aching clit.
For a long time she lay silently after turning off her electric fucking machine. The quiet of the house finally came back to her. The rain had stopped all together. Firelight flickered on the ceiling. She was happy again, and rather awed by her frenzy before. She saw her reflection in the mirror, and cupped her cunt, and smiled. This would be one to remember.
CHAPTER TWO
The sheets were linen and ironed smooth. Cool against the skin. As the room was quite warm, she had decided to sleep naked. Besides, she thought as she lay close to slumber, the dried sweat and secretions of her masturbation smelled, and she hesitated to stain her hostess nightgown. She didn't mind her own smell. She liked it, in fact and so did everyone else, if, they were going to be honest with themselves.
As Arthur had once said, everyone is immune to his own farts. And the same is true for all smells of the body. Languidly, in the dark Emily sniffed her fingers and felt a minor rush of excitement in response to the smell of her cunt. What a nice smell it is after all! But we've been brainwashed today. We've been sold a bill of goods. The moguls of fashion and hygiene would have us do away with our darker, more sensual side. They would have us strip away our smells, our hair, our inelegant lumps and bumps. To make us fit their model of an inhuman, icy perfection they would take from us our sense of our own personal uniqueness. Arthur had once told her of a girl he knew who shaved her cunt. The idea! Where is the mystery in a twelve-year-old's cunt? Just a bare slit between the legs: nothing to it. But to have a thick and tempting bush to hide it under! Now there was something. There's some animal consciousness in that! Her fingers combed her own proud thatch as she thought these things. And now they even have sprays which take away that lovely smell and make everyone think you have a strawberry between your thighs. Okay for a kick maybe, but strawberries ought to smell like strawberries. Cunt should smell like cunt. But then, she mused, I must be awfully conservative. She recalled the disappointing occasion when she had filled her vagina with M&M candies and then called upon Arthur to suck them back out. Maybe if they had been strawberries-or rosettes of cauliflower, South African rock lobster tails, who knows, something besides M&Ms. She might have been less mortified. The poor boob, he was astounded at her vulgarity. But maybe strawberries would have been the thing. Maybe the Cunt Spray Kings did know something after all. Perhaps they should put out a line of seven flavors, one for each day: pomegranate, cantaloupe, coconut, grape-seedless of course-then prune, avocado, and back to strawberry on Sunday. Presto! Cunt de jour.
Suddenly, with a start, Emily realized that her mind must have been wandering. What had she been thinking about? Well, no matter. She had been halfway to sleep there, and her mind had been drifting down byways of its own choosing, but a single, scintillating chord of distant music had pierced her consciousness and snapped her back to reality. She lay in her quiet bed and allowed her ears to float around the room, willing them to catch the sound once again. But it alluded her. No! There it was again. The cellar music, insistent, beating, playing upon her as sunlight does upon the night shut petals of a flower.
And as the flower opens itself to embrace the new experience, so Emily discovered herself bending over the well of the stairway, looking down three flights into darkness. She had hastily belted her robe about herself as she left the room. The corridor had been as silent as one might expect at two in the morning. And now the music played upon her pale face as it swelled up from below. There was seduction in it, even a hint of danger. But she was invisible, she realized, and she floated upon the music and the darkness down one flight and then another.
Dare she descend again? There would be people there. She stood in the entrance hall, surrounded by leering faces and polished bodies, and hovered between the future and the past. Had she retreated then, I would have nothing to tell about. She would have risen at a reasonable time, ridden with Adrian for an hour or two, been impressed by the estate, but in the end she would have driven off again, over the mountains and down to the plains. And that would have been the end. There would have been no change. Nothing would have been risked, and nothing, likewise, would have been won.
The house was empty save for the throb in its bowels. Her hand closed upon the knob. She turned it. She pulled it open. Down the stairs that Laura had descended she stealthily trod. Narrow steps, cellar steps, with walls on each side. And then the bottom. The walls turned left. The floor was thickly carpeted in red. The walls were red plush. The ceiling was black. Four candles in sconces gave wavering illumination. She walked toward a velvet curtain. Five steps, ten. Would anyone see her? Fifteen steps. She was almost there. Twenty steps, and her hands touched the curtain. It parted down the middle. She stuck her face close to the slit and looked: another hallway was all. Just like that she had already mastered. With mirrors on the walls this time, and more lights. She stepped through. The music must come from behind that next curtain. It was too loud now. She was near its source, she knew, and she was succumbing to its embrace. It curled around her, binding her with coil upon coil of its shiny rope, and dragged her slowly toward itself.
But Just then there came a shiver of girlish laughter, and the curtain at the end of her hallway parted. A pretty girl in green stepped through. But her face was turned to speak with someone behind her, and Emily had sprinted away like a foot runner from Thebes before she straightened again.
Emily's feet flew along the carpeted hallway. Would she reach the steps in time? They were closer, closer, and she did, just. She leapt up them and was through the door and had shut it quietly before those following began to climb after her. She looked around frantically. The dimness of the library invited her. She dashed across the parquet entrance hall and was flashing behind the bulk of a long couch when her pursuers emerged. Apparently they did not see the flutter of her white robe, for they passed quite close beside her, the girl and a tall and hawk-like man, laughing and chatting about a picnic which they were planning for the morrow.
Emily slumped against the back of the couch. Her heart beat frantically in her breast. Adrenalin began to drain from her system, and she realized she was shivering. Weak and silly, she fought down an impulse to giggle.
And then a sound, a high, ululating, inhuman sound, soared through her brain from only inches away!
Emily was stricken with terror. Atavistically, all her hairs stood on end, and her nipples hardened to points. She nearly screamed. She dared neither breath nor move. Her heart thumped insanely and rushed so much blood to her head that she feared she might faint. And then the sound came again! But this time, after shuddering up and down the scale, it ended with a long, flailing "Yesssss."
And now Emily understood. On the other side of the couch behind which she had hidden, in the dimness of the library, someone was having an orgasm.
How ludicrous it all was! Here she sat, trembling with residual terror, while within a foot of her, people were involved in something extremely private from which they would eventually rise and discover her. They could hardly fail to do so. Unless they planned to spend the night in the library, they would have to pass her to leave. And then they would accuse her, rightfully, of being a voyeur, and she would be able to make but a flimsy defense, if indeed she could make any at all. It was remarkable that they had not already noticed her. But for her habit of silence, she might have groaned or giggled many times in the last two minutes. Thank God that she had not done so!
"Oh yesssss," came the voice again, a woman's. "Do that again."
"You like that, don't you?" It was a man. "your other hand now. Use both." Like that? "just like that."
The voices ceased, and all that was left to be heard was the woman's heavy breathing.
With considerably shock, Emily suddenly realized that she was growing aroused. There was something distinctly naughty about listening to this couple from so close a distance. Blood and moisture were again beginning to suffuse the aching membranes of her sex. But her position was precarious, and she could not linger on what she might see upon the other side of her couch. She doubted that she could slip away as quietly as she had come. Indeed, the floor creaked warningly as she shifted her weight. What could be done?
And then she noticed that this couch was lifted rather high off the carpet. It occurred to her that she might just be able to slip underneath it without disturbing its occupants. To alarm them would bring certain disaster, but if she were successful, they would undoubtedly leave without seeing her. The risk seemed worth the prize, and she lay down carefully.
There was-just barely room.
Though slightly dusty, her position was comfortable. She was warm, the carpet was soft. She could now enjoy the secret pleasure of listening to the lovemaking above her with its eroticism only slightly enhanced by the fear of discovery. She turned her face sideways, toward the front of the couch, and looked out into the dim room. Immediately before her face a naked woman's leg descended to the floor. A man's lower body was crouched between this leg and another which she could barely see on his other side. He was bending sharply forward, and Emily was overcome by a terrific desire to see his cock. To her distress, the woman's leg, though it quivered and jumped about, remained in her line of vision.
"I love it with your tongue!"
"God, your cunt tastes good. I could just eat it forever."
"You may."
Emily's nipples were beginning to brush against the bottom of the couch. One half of her mind, remaining calm, was astounded that she could feel such arousal after the frenzied masturbation she had indulged, herself with only minutes ago. The other half, less self-conscious, was already beginning to surrender herself to the throes of more self-enjoyment.
"You're absolutely gushing."
"Tell me!"
"Your cunt is flowing with creamy juice, my darling, and I am licking it up with my tongue."
"Ohhhh!"
"I lick around your stiff clit. I take it between my lips and suck hard upon it."
"Yesssss!"
"I rub the top of it quickly back and forth with my tongue."
"Oh, I'm going to die!"
Emily knew just what to do. A little light work for idle fingers. Just lying here with nothing to do, ho hum. Might as well slide that hand down my belly. Might as well feel it slip inside the opening of my robe. And what have we here? A big, wide hill crowned with thick hair. Yes indeed. Strange that I should have all this hair here. Better explore it, see what it's all about. Nice big patch of hair. Wonder what's on the other side. Ah, softer down here, wetter. Best stick a finger down there to see, best feel....
"Now raise your legs, darling. I want to suck your asshole."
"Oh, yes, please!"
The legs vanished, evidently propped upon his shoulders, and Emily had her first look at his cock. The organ was long, and thin, and very stiff. Even in the dim light, Emily could perceive that it was engorged as tightly as it could be. His knees were spread, and huge balls hung down to sway in their hairy sac. There was lots of hair on his body, a great thicket of it, out of which the quivering, tall cock stood up. Emily watched as a pearl of shimmering liquid seeped from the eye at its tip. The sight excited her terrifically, and she began masturbating in earnest.
"I love it when you do this."
"You have the prettiest asshole!"
"Mmmmmm. Stick it up again."
"Like that?"
"Your nose feels good against my cunt hole."
"Oh, I love this cunt!" She chuckled throatily. "I love it!" he repeated. "It loves you."
Emily was beginning to breathe more quickly, in time with the rubbing of her gummy fingers. She wondered whether she even cared any longer that she might be heard.
"Pretty asshole. Pretty, pretty asshole. How about a little finger in it? There! Oh, it's tight. There now. There it slides in. How does that feel?"
But the woman could not answer.
"Now I twist it a little, push it in farther, pull it out again. How's that, eh? Like that finger fucking your asshole?"
"Yesssss! Oh, stick something in my cunt too. Quick! Stick in some fingers. Pleaser "There now. There're some fingers in your cunt too. That better? How about another one? Want another finger in your hot cunt?"
Again, the question was rhetorical.
"There it goes! Ah, way deep up in your hot, hairy, juicy cunt!"
Only in her masturbatory imagination had Emily experienced sex as verbally as this. Arthur had always been acutely silent, speaking only before and after. The way in which this man was making love with his voice as well as his fingers and tongue was uncannily intimate. She longed for it to be her cunt, her asshole, her big tits which the man spoke so lustfully about. She wanted to hear what a wet and bubbly cunt she had. She wanted him to tell her how it felt to have his fingers sunk in the tight and clinging hole of her ass.
"Now you're really fucking those fingers, aren't you? Fucking hard against that finger in your ass. Yes, darling, fuck my finger with your asshole. In and out. That's it! Fuck back at me. Fuck me with your pretty hole."
The couch was beginning to bounce as the woman slung her cunt and asshole against the man's prodding fingers, and with every bounce, her weight drove down upon Emily's wriggling body. Each bounce thrust Emily's hand harder against her straining cunt and mashed her tremendous breasts against her ribcage. It was almost like being fucked by the woman herself. The idea ignited Emily. Being fucked by the woman, fucked by a woman's fingers, by a woman's tongue. Tits, and a cunt! Fucked by a cunt! A cunt pounding on hers. A cunt banging her, fucking her, fucking her until she came, and came, and came, and came against a cunt!
And now the woman fucking her broke off her climb long enough to gasp, "My clit. Do my clit! Quick!"
"You do your own clit."
"Yes! I want to!"
"That's it. Make yourself feel good. Play with your slippery little clit. Make it feel so good."
"Oh, my clit. My clit!"
"And your asshole is much looser now. Want another finger in it? Hmmm? Want another finger fucking your asshole?"
"Yes-yes-yes-yes!"
"There now. Two fingers in your tight, sweaty asshole. Oh, they look so pretty, sliding in and out among your hairs."
Emily watched as another small droplet oozed from the tip of the man's taut cock. His whole head was growing shiny as she watched and masturbated all the harder. Instinctively, he was beginning to thrust his hips backwards and forwards, making fucking motions in the air, frantic for some friction against his bursting cock. She wanted desperately to reach out and grab its burning length, to feel the great, wrenching bucks of his orgasm in her hands, but she contented herself with caressing it by eye, willing that he might somehow feel ghostly fingers upon him, willing that he might fuck his way to an orgasm right before her.
"Here. Taste my fingers. Taste your cunt juice on my hand. Yes, lick up your dribbling cunt-juice. Suck my fingers as you would my cock if it tasted of your cunt. Suck my fingers while I fuck your asshole with my other hand."
"I taste so good!"
"A sweet cunt. A sweet, delicious cunt with lots of flowing juice to lick up."
"I wish I could eat myself!"
"You could eat someone else."
"I wouldn't dare."
"Yes, you would. Down cellar in the pit. How about it? Wouldn't you like to eat Laura down there? Eh? Suck on her great, flowing pussy, feel her thighs clutched against your cheeks, her hands pulling your head deeper against her. You'd like her cunt. She loves to have it sucked, and chewed, and mashed against a woman's pretty face."
Emily, watching his cock, was nearly beside herself. Laura? Her elegant hostess? That statuesque body contorted in lust? And what was this about the cellar? Laura in the cellar, sucking and fucking. Oh, a cunt! A cunt! Laura's cunt. Her fingers flew across her own tormented cunt.
"But I could never do that."
"Yes, my darling. You could. Think about it. Play-with your clit, and think about it. You'd like to make love to her. You know you would. You'd like her big tits. You'd like to suck on her nipples and feel them getting hard in your mouth."
"Ohhh."
"See? I told you, you'd like it. That's right. Lick your lips and think about those big tits."
"I like tits."
"Of course you do. And her cunt too. You'd like her big cunt too. You'd stick your pretty little face up into her great hairy crotch and lick up her cunt juice just as you're licking it off my fingers."
"Yes, ohhh, her cunt! Yes, her cunt! Eat me now and tell me about her cunt!"
"Pinch your nipples and pretend they're Laura's big tits you have in your hands."
"Are they much bigger than mine?"
"Yes. Big, and warm, and waiting for mouths to love them."
"I'd suck on her tits. I'd lick and kiss them all over. I'd press them against mine. Would she suck mine?"
"She'd do anything you wanted."
"I'd make her suck mine for a long time. I like having them sucked. Oh, I like being sucked!"
"Yes, and then you'd run your face down her chest and across her belly. You'd lick her bellybutton, like that, and then you'd go down even further."
"Yes, I would. Oh, I would!"
"And then you'd be able to see that great gooey cunt, all wet, and eager, and pink."
"What would she be doing?"
"She'd be moaning and her tits would be flushed. Her hands would be grabbing at your hair, demanding that you eat her hungry cunt. She'd beg you. She'd beg you to eat her, to let her come against your face and tongue."
"Yesssss, now eat me and make me come. I want to come! I WANT TO COME!"
"Come, darling, now come." The man's voice was almost drowned by the wet cunt he was buried in. "Come, come, come!"
"I want it! I want to suck her cunt, to suck her clit, I want to suck! I want her cunt, her wet, creamy, gushing, gushing CUNT! And now I'm coming. I'm gonna come! I'm coming, coming, coming, COMING!"
The entire couch shook with the intensity of her orgasm. Her voice rose into a wordless wail and then died away slowly until utter silence reigned in the house.
Emily had been beating herself off with such overwhelming abandon and ecstasy that she too trembled through a climax as the couch bounced upon her humming pussy. But she hovered still just under the summit of an even greater pleasure while her eyes remained glued to the quivering cock just before her face. She knew that her final, magnificent orgasm would wait until that cock began to spurt its boiling load of come. She knew she would wait, but she hoped she didn't have to wait too long. Her lips and nose were numb, tingly, and her toes quivered with passion. Her thighs were rigid, her pussy turned to the merest pressure of her soaking fingers, and her tits were on fire. She could hold herself like this, hold for a long time, but the slightest flicker of her fingertip against her clit would crash the last orgasm upon her.
Finally, from above, came the woman's drowsy voice. "Did you come?"
"No. Not yet."
"Oh, that was beautiful."
"I'm glad."
"The best ever."
"I thought it might be."
"I love you."
"I know, darling."
Again there was a long pause. Some of Emily's excitement began to fade. The man's cock, she saw was slightly less tense than it had been before.
"I'm glad we didn't go down there tonight," came the woman's voice.
"I too."
"God, you had me going there!"
"It was wonderful to watch."
Suddenly, there was a rustling above. The woman's feet and legs came down to the floor. "But you haven't come," she cried with concern. "What should we do? How would you like to come?"
"Are you really finished?"
"I don't think I could fuck, if that's what you mean. Want me to blow you?"
"You know I love that." His hand closed around his cock now and began a slow caressing motion. "Yes, I'd love you to blow me.
The woman chuckled villainously. "The idea sure excites you, mister."
"It feels good already."
"Just wait'll I get this warm mouth around your cock, instead of that dumb old hand."
"You talk a good game, baby, but let's see what you can do."
She giggled and slumped down off the couch. The man lay back on the carpet. Emily didn't get a chance to see his face, for the woman's body blocked her view. She could see the woman's face however. It was a blond, very pretty face, one which she would have described as innocent or angelic had she not been witness to the last minutes of passion. The woman knelt at the man's side and lowered her mouth toward his long cock. Her buttocks were pointing straight toward Emily, and the latter was able to see a hairy, cloven snatch suspended excitingly between her thighs. Her dark ass crease loomed above the cunt, and the smell of sweat and pussy juices was thick in the air. Once again, Emily began to masturbate, though very, very carefully. The woman could see her simply by turning her head.
It wouldn't take long, she could see that. Already the man was straining upward, his muscles rippling in the dim light. She heard him babbling sounds, moans, as his lover's lovely face worked determinedly up and down upon his cock. Her hands masturbated the long organ as her mouth sucked and pulled at the straining tip. Now and again she would raise her head to watch the eye open and close as she masturbated him. His cock grew shiny with her saliva, and his moans rose to a wail.
She sank her mouth down upon him as he thrust upward, allowing the entire long cock to slip between her widely opened lips. And Emily saw his hands clutch her head as he began to come. She watched the woman's eyes grow wide as pulse after pulse blasted up the length of his cock and into her mouth. It was beautiful to watch. She began her own great convulsions as the come leaked from the woman's tight lips and puddled down into his pubic hair. The woman withdrew her mouth, with come gurgling back out of her lips, and kissed the tip of his cock as several last spurts bathed her nose and cheeks. And Emily rose over the gasping top to hang more dead than alive within her orgasm, as she watched the woman's tongue come out and lick carefully and sensuously at the thick come which smeared her mouth. With a finger, the woman gathered the rest of his sperm and dipped it between her lips.
CHAPTER THREE
Emily did not witness a cool and fragrant dawn. In fact, she slept so profoundly through the early calling of birds that when at last she began to stir, she had lost all track of time. Rapturously warm, she rolled one slow eye above the pillows, apprehended the fact that sun stormed through her windows, and tumbled back down into a half-sleep filled with soft and sliding images whose detail she cared little about.
Some time passed away.
Then, as last night, music came to her. But this was a fresher, more obvious music, that of an harmonica running through a series of folk melodies. The tunes evinced her childhood within her, and she came more fully from sleep. She stretched hugely, making her spine creak with the pleasure of it. Ah, what a day!
Standing to one side of the window to shield her nakedness, she opened the latch and swung the casement wide. Immediately, she was bathed in soft and vivid air. Below her a young man was leaning in a relaxed manner against the trunk of a shade tree. He was dressed in riding habit, and he played now into a trilling four-bar blues. He was not especially handsome, but a broad and sun-tanned face was the sort which made one feel good. Evidently a companionable and pleasant person. And rather good with that mouth harp. As she watched him play, a young woman came into view. She rode a beautiful grey quarterhorse and led an Appaloosa. "Larry," she called.
Larry broke off and slipped the instrument into a shirt pocket. He and the Appaloosa seemed to know one another, and he whispered in her ear while stroking her neck. Then, sitting well, he urged her into a trot and disappeared from view. The girl, a pretty blonde, had to wheel her grey in order to follow him, and Emily's breath caught in her throat as the face passed by. It was, of course, the girl from the couch last night.
Emily sat heavily upon the edge of her bed. She was smitten by the recollection of what she had witnessed in the darkness of the library. And not only of what had occurred above her that really was none of her business-but of what sort of reaction she had had! How could she have lain there and masturbated? What was wrong with her? The shamelessness of it! Perhaps she couldn't have escaped, perhaps, but to have crept closer! Oh, yes. She hadn't merely been hiding under the couch. She had wanted to see. She had crept closer as quietly as ever possible until, like a thief, she had been able to steal that couple's privacy.
She looked down at her body. Her enormous breasts hung listlessly, too big, veined, like udders. Her legs were too thin, her feet awkward. Her muscle tone was poor. There was a telltale sag even upon so slim a body as hers. And yet, as she lay masturbating before her fire last night, this body had seemed an engine of pure pleasure, a very miracle of sexuality. It somehow seemed a betrayal by the body. She had let herself go, she knew she had, and had indulged herself in her privacy. Well, everyone did the same thing if they were willing to be truthful. But then, later, to have repeated the indulgence at the expense of other people! There was no excuse for, such a thing. That young woman and someone-had it been Larry?-had had their intimacy shared, whether they knew it or not, by a self-involved, dishonorable woman who hid under the couch and made love to herself secretly and in the dark. Disgusting! What a spectacle she must have made, had there been anyone to see.
Embarrassed, she rose and walked into the bathroom. Better that she should wash and meet the day than that she should continue with this train of thought. And, she thought as she sat on the toilet, it had seemed such a lovely day when she woke. Damn!
What she would do, she would beg off the ride with Adrian, say she had an appointment to keep down in the valley. She would leave as soon as she got dressed and put lots of distance between herself and this place. When she thought of it, the place she really wanted to be was not here. Perhaps she'd drive down the coast to LA. She had friends in LA.
She flushed the toilet and began scrubbing her face more vigorously than usual. After all, this was a pretty decadent place. The idea of those two making love in the library last night was enough to show her what sort of place it was. Anyone with any decency at all would have used a bedroom. They were to blame themselves for her discovery of them. I mean, what could they expect? Anyone might have wandered through there last night, to get a sandwich or something from the kitchen for example. Or to go down into the cellar. What was beyond those last curtains? She knew, though. Well, not knew. It could hardly be that anyway. But somehow she was pretty certain what she would have discovered had she pushed through that last barrier. How she knew, she would never have been able to describe. It was like Arthur's big, mysterious birthday present to her last fall. For days the questions had built along with the tension. And then, four days before the day, she had known. For no reason, just known completely and positively that he was giving her an aquarium.
But, that? Down in the cellar? Hardly likely. That would be like something out of a book, and not a very nice book either. Perhaps, after all, it really was some musicians just jamming around in the middle of the night.
She wet the cloth again and spread her thighs to wash her encrusted cunt. The image of herself in the mirror, breasts akimbo, was enough to remind her how utterly her body had overleaped its proscribed bounds. Even as she scrubbed, she saw a blush redden her neck and cheeks. You'll have to shape up, my girl. Just because you ran away from Arthur doesn't give you a license to relinquish all the strictures. Damn it all, anyway. Life wasn't so bad with Arthur. She wished she were really certain she had done the right thing.
She was standing next to the bed looking with distaste at the stiff pair of panties which were all she had to wear when the door handle turned and someone began to walk into the room. In a flash, she was under the covers with her head buried in the pillows. It was one of the guests, probably, someone who didn't know she had arrived last night. He would see her and quietly retreat.
Instead though, she heard the door close and steps walk across the carpet toward her bed table. The person stopped near her head, and Emily was just wondering what to do when the aroma of coffee made her eyes fly open. Beside her stood a boyish girl in a black-and-white maid's uniform. She was just setting a tray of breakfast things down upon the table. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were asleep."
Emily smiled and rolled onto her back, being careful that her body was adequately covered. "That coffee smells too good to sleep." She nicked a pillow or two behind her shoulders. "Such service. Breakfast in bed!"
The girl's name, was Karen. She had brought along Emily's suitcase. It appeared that the gardener had filled her car enough to drive it in to the estate, and he was on his way now to purchase a few gallons, enough to get her away from here. But the coffee was good, and the muffins with jam even more grateful, and the day now seemed quite cheerful. Karen sat upon the foot of the bed and chatted with a bright impartiality about the Blacks, about her life here as a maid, about how very nice it all was. Emily learned that she was one of ten guests, that there were practically no house rules save that everyone enjoy himself in whatever manner he chose, and that it was now 11:30 in the morning.
"11:30," she cried. "I've an appointment with Mr. Black!"
"Oh, don't worry about it for a moment. He's busy with some business matters anyway. And he wouldn't like you to be rushed. May I pour you another cup?"
"Well, if you think so, then yes." It really was so very friendly sitting here discussing anything that should come into their heads. Karen was quite a perceptive young woman, and she had done so many things! It fairly took Emily's breath away to learn of the traveling and the variety of work Karen had been able to fit into a twenty-five year span. There was that about her which seemed unwilling to accept anything into her philosophy of life until she had given it an honest try. She earned Emily's respect in this, but disquiet was mixed with the approval. It is always slightly upsetting to meet someone who has such a determined consciousness of his own life that he does not allow himself to be fooled in those obvious ways that we all do. Karen did things in order to understand them. She would not have flown away from a husband in a whimsey and a befuddlement. She would understand what she was doing, would weigh it accurately, and would then act according to her balancing.
And so, obviously, Emily found herself confiding in this young maid. She felt that Karen might be able to straighten out some of that anguish she felt.
And Karen opened up.
"Marriage is boring. I've never been married myself, but I've studied the subject as closely as I can. You have to be pretty mature to be married, to withstand the boredom, and to enjoy it. Because that's the kicker: it is enjoyable. You know that better than I do. You've said nothing, really, in the last ten minutes except how much you enjoyed your life with Arthur."
"But I left." Emily nearly wailed. It was all so confusing!
"It's a bad time, my friend. It's hard times for woman today. For men too, I suppose. Oh, the traditional concepts of womanhood and manhood are still available of course, but everything we hear tells us that if we really want to be in the swing of the latter twentieth century, we'd better be involved in changing our understanding of ourselves. And that's bulishit, if you ask me. The ethic, supposedly, is to develop complete honesty, and yet the parameters of growth are as severely limited today as they were in those allegedly oppressive Victorian times. We like to pat ourselves on the back and who doesn't?-because we've revolted sexuality-"
"Yeah, I just made it up at the moment." Karen grinned back. "But our revolting sexuality-to carry this pun to extremes-is as stereotypical as was Victorian sex. People make such a fetish of how many orgasms they have, or some such. Remember five of ten years ago when we were all required to obfuscate the Establishment by refusing to wear dresses and so On? Well, what did we do? We all wore blue jeans, turtlenecks, and surplus Army jackets. It was as uniform and as boring as all the white gloves and mary-janes in the world."
"True."
"Are you going to eat that last muffin? No? May I?-Because, you see, the true liberation is unique for each of us. If it weren't an individual thing, then it wouldn't be a liberation. Yes, we ought to experience everything, but we oughtn't to have our judgment of those things prescribed. And that's what the fascists of the new morality, as they like to call it, do for us."
"I guess so."
"Well, it's why you're so fucked up."
Emily was startled into a bark of laughter.
"Really! I mean it. If you're going to be free, then you'll actually have to be free. And that means being free of Arthur and all the pleasure you had together."
"Now, aren't you telling me what to do?"
"Sure! Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds." Karen gave a smug grin around her muffin.
"Oh!" Emily slung one of her pillows at the girl. She was a little surprised that she should do such a thing, usually being more slow in intimacy, but she did like this cheerful being. And in doing so, one of her breasts came free of its covering. She confined it again in confusion, but she had time to recognize that Karen's eyes had been caught and held by the big gland.
And Karen's manner seemed to change. She became more forceful, and she built up a physical connection between them by tapping Emily's leg or patting her hip to emphasize a point.
"Now take this place, for instance. The entire point here is to do what you like. And, really, people do just that. There's a lot of, shall we say, erotic experimentation, but there's also a lot of celibacy. People ride or don't ride-and you can take that in any way you like-just as they please."
But Emily began to retreat. "I'm sure I'm not-"
"The point is that everyone needs some exposure to the various ways of life. People buy things out of catalogues too much. They see in Time magazine that they're suppose to be feeling in such and such a way, and they dash off a check and buy that life-style sight unseen. A pig in a poke if there ever was one, for once you've bought the thing there's no refund. We ought to be able to try things before we sign up for them. Used to be you could listen to the records in a record store before you bought them. Now they're sealed, for your protection, they say. Bullshit! It's for their goddamned protection, not ours. We don't need to be protected. We need to be allowed to get a taste of something before we accept it."
During all this, Karen had been allowing herself to touch Emily's shrouded form. Now she hunched forward on the bed a little, apparently so that she could converse more pointedly.
Emily clutched her coffee cup. Karen seemed so passionate about all this! She had lost the ironic detachment which had been amusing before. What was going on? She felt trapped in her bed. "Look. I-"
"No." Karen held up her hand and then brought it down to rest on Emily's naked shoulder. "Let me finish. Every woman-and man had to work out her own damnation. I mean that! You can't do things for other people, save them, or change them, or elevate them, or whatever you'd like to think. You can only do things for yourself. For yourself, Emily." Her finger was prodding Emily in the ribs. "Don't think about how Arthur has been hurt by this. Sure, he's been hurt! But you have too, and you must think of yourself. Shall I run you a bath?"
The transition had been so abrupt that Emily was caught breathless.
"Well, yes. Yes, I guess so. If you wouldn't mind."
Karen stood up and walked without another word into the bathroom. Emily took the opportunity to hop out of bed and tie her robe around herself. Karen certainly was an odd sort of girl. But nice, really. Strange, but nice.
"How do you like it?" came Karen's call from the bathroom. The water was beginning to rush, and she had to raise her voice to be heard.
Emily walked into the bathroom to answer. "Hot," she told her maid, "but not scalding."
"Righty-o." Karen adjusted the handles and then stood again. The bath was filling fast. "It's a pretty bathroom, don't you think?"
"Yes, very."
"I like the way they've done the whole house."
"Yes."
"And your room is so comfortable."
"It is."
"You'll like it here."
"Oh, but I'm not staying."
"Adrian said you were."
"Well, really, I couldn't, you know...." Karen watched her calmly as Emily trailed off. "I think you'll change your mind," she said.
The audacity of the girl! "No, really I won't. I have so many-"
"I think the bath is full now."
"Oh. Yes, I guess it is."
The two women stood looking at each other expectantly for a moment.
"I'm sure I can manage very well now, thank you," Emily finally said. But she had never had a maid, and she didn't want to offend this girl. Karen continued to watch her, so finally, with an inward shrug, she unbelted her robe and slipped it off. Trying to move her breasts as little as possible, she handed the garment to Karen. "Here. Hang this up, won't you?"
And then she was lowering herself into a deep bath which was, after all, just right. She allowed herself to lie back in the hot water and soak. Her eyes closed in contentment.
A hand upon her belly jerked them open again. It was Karen, kneeling, her sleeves rolled up, armed with soap and luffa.
"What? What are you doing?"
"Why, washing you, of course."
"But I-"
"Quiet, lady. Enjoy."
"I-"
"Of course you haven't. Neither had I before I came here. But you'll enjoy being washed. I'm good at it."
"I'm sure you are, but really, Karen, I-"
"No more." She pushed Emily gently back down into the water. "It'll be all right. Trust me."
Emily still wasn't certain, but the hand which was slowly beginning to massage her tightened belly into softness again did feel awfully good. She began to relax. "I haven't been washed since I was probably eight." She began to grin.
"Just close your eyes again, Emily, and I'll have you clean in no time."
But Karen was wrong. It took quite a lot of time.
Karen's hands were lovely. They slid easily all over Emily's body, quickly, lightly, never lingering long upon any one spot. It was a titillation as well as a cleansing. Emily found that she could raise no objection to Karen's fingers upon her breasts. Even when Karen manipulated her nipples until they stood up, Emily merely lay back with a peaceful smile upon her face. And when the woman slid her fingers down along the edge of Emily's hairy vee, down between her loosening thighs, to guide the soap into her most intimate creases, Emily even found herself sighing. It was almost exciting, almost an erotic caress. And as long as that distance was maintained ... Emily raised her knee to allow Karen better access to the soft mound.
There was no sound save that of the motion in the water. Karen's light breathing was all the evidence Emily had that she was even in the room. And her hands, of course. But the hands might have been her own, so knowledgeably did they manipulate her. They were washing her breasts again now. Karen seemed determined to make her breasts just as clean as they could be. The great orbs slithered under the soapy fingers, wobbling upon Emily's chest with a weight which was anything but unpleasant. Her nipples had grown stiff again, and now and then Karen's hands brushed them, maintaining their erection.
Whispering, Karen breathed into her ear, "Now if you'll stand up, I'll wash your back."
With a hand to support her in one soapy armpit, Emily rose from the water to stand braced against the wall with her back to her maid. The hands began to work up a lather at her shoulders and to smooth the soap down her back. Soon they had reached her waist, and here Karen soaped around to Emily's soft belly again. Perhaps there was a spot she had missed, as she ran her soap across the top of Emily's wide pussy bush. Probably that was the reason for her fingers trailing down the divide between thigh and cunt. And then the hands remembered another spot they had missed and rose to cup the weight of Emily's jutting breasts. The soapy cups lifted and separated and then allowed the weights to slip back down to their own position again. But now, of course, there was all that thigh to do. Karen bent to her task. Those long columns rising before her eyes to Emily's handsome ass needed attention. Emily felt the hands moving up the inside and the back of her thighs until they met where all the lines came together. She felt her cheeks being insinuated by soapy, slippery fingers, felt her very asshole grazed by a fingernail, once and then repeatedly. She spread her thighs so that she could be washed everywhere. Her head still hung slightly with eyes closed, the feel of the downward pull of her breasts rather exciting now.
And then she felt warm breath puffing slowly against the very base of her spine, just where it swelled outwards into the white curve of her hips. Hot breath against her and then-what was that? Were those lips which had pressed lightly against her spine? A new and strange way of washing for sure. She was glad she had taken the chance of discovering the way one washed another woman. It was instructive, in a purely academic way of course. She sighed again. Yes, for certain, they were lips.
Now the cloth was wiped, washing away the soap. She felt the coolness of new water against her flushed flanks. And still the lips returned to their work. And a tongue perhaps between them. A softness which prodded downwards and between her buttocks. She could feel Karen's whole face pressed against her now, nearly splitting her open from behind, as the tongue sought its crinkled target. And Emily knew right when the target was found. That soft and wet pressure opening her, stroking her loosening rim, inserting itself more deeply within her. She tilted her ass up and spread her cheeks more so that this unusual washing could continue.
Curiously, one of the hands felt it necessary at that moment to return to the hairy thatch in the front again. It dipped and this time split her right down the middle. Oh! It must have been a mistake that it rubbed its way across the top of her clit. Surely a mistake. But why should her clit have been so aroused? Pesky thing. But it was okay now. The fingers were down where they might conceivably need to do some washing, smoothing in and out of her vagina itself. Then kept brushing against her clit, though. Kept the darned little button jumping like crazy.
She was beginning to think that the washing was growing just a trifle too erotic. She ought to stop it, really she ought. She was not entirely certain that she wanted to go on with this. She could wash herself, after all. Yes, she'd have to put a stop to this. Any time now she'd say something to make Karen take her tongue out of her asshole. That tongue which was flicking itself endlessly and maddeningly across her splayed rear entrance. Was this washing? No. Karen was beginning to go too far. Really. Really this would just have to stop. Very soon. She'd put an end to it for good and all. She'd just say-Oh! Was that a finger which just slid into her asshole? Oh, it was, and there was another. God, they felt like a ramrod up inside her. But Karen had stopped her licking. Yes, she had stopped, and so it was all right. Now things were in control again. Karen was simply washing her very thoroughly with her fingers. You could feel the way they squished in and out, surely for purposes of cleanliness only.
And the hand in her front now, the one slowly washing in and out of her slippery cunt, began to concentrate its stroking on her clit again. Really, she was sure that her clit was clean enough. There couldn't be any further soaping necessary. But those fingers felt otherwise, obviously. They felt that there must be-ah! Yessss-They felt that-Mmmmmm!-They felt....
The two fingers which plunged into her rear hole were increasing their speed. She felt Karen's teeth grasp a wide hunk of the flesh of one cheek and begin to nibble at it. And the fingers on her clit were no longer simply washing. She was certain of that now. Something else was happening. It was all so strange. What was Karen trying to do? Emily's breath was coming faster. She had lain her forehead against her crossed arms and straddled her legs so that Karen had access for this odd business, whatever it was, and she could feel that her mighty breasts were swaying sharply forward and back in time with the fingers flashing into her from behind.
Karen didn't know it, of course, but her washing was having the most curious effect upon Emily. Really, this was just going to make her come if she didn't put a stop to it. Imagine, coming instead of being cleaned! What a mixup. Karen would certainly be surprised if she knew what she was actually doing. She thought she was just washing. But those fingers in her asshole! Oh, and her clit felt so huge in the light grasp of those other fingers. She really was going to come! In fact, she could feel it beginning just now. Yes, there it was coming. There her muscles were tightening. There she felt herself beginning to climb up. She'd better put a stop to this. This was her last chance. And she was almost there. She was actually about to come....
"There," said Karen abruptly. "You're done."
The fingers vanished from her asshole and cunt.
Emily was left in a delirium on the verge of an orgasm, her face slack, her eyes unfocused.
"Turn around."
She turned.
"Step out."
She stepped.
She found herself folded into a vast towel, being patted dry by Karen's soft hands.
She was desperate. Inside the towel she allowed her hands to grasp her cunt for a moment, but she could hardly finish the come here. God, she needed it! She'd never get dry otherwise. Her pussy was dripping down her thighs. And it had all happened quite by accident. Karen hadn't meant to do this to her, surely. She didn't even know in what a state she had been left. But, oh Jesus, it felt good to have her breasts and back rubbed briskly dry by the other girl! To have Karen's arms around her from behind, cupping her big tits in terrycloth, jiggling them, milking them, swaying them every which way around her chest. She risked a quick dip into her cunt-slit with a long middle finger. If only she could masturbate! Oh, her clit was enormous, it was so excited.
"Now the powder."
The towel somehow had vanished. Emily stood jutting and naked in the middle of the humid room. Soon a cool flash of powder was sprinkled across her throat and the upper slopes of her breasts. Karen's hands followed wherever the powder led, smoothing the flesh, cooling it with the fragrant dust. The perfume curled into Emily's nostrils, making her even bore heady than she already was. Karen's hands and the perfume, Karen's caress and the lovely smell: she felt as though she might topple over.
Karen had already anointed her entire breasts with the powder. The girl had spent a long time shifting their weight about, making certain that she left no inch untended and unsavored. The wide brown nipples she drew forth until they nearly quivered with the attention, turning whitish with their sprinkling. And now she was performing the same ritual upon Emily's slender back. Emily felt her soothing hands growing closer to the ass which she had washed so wonderfully thoroughly only minutes before, and her intensity grew with the memory of it. Seemingly by accident, Emily managed to caress herself for an instant while Karen was bent to her task and would be unable to see. And it was such bliss, that momentary pressure upon her straining clit. Such delight! Oh God, to come!
And now Karen knelt before her with her face merely inches from the moisture and the agony of Emily's longing cunt. Surely she would notice the flowing juices, surely she would realize how her washing had affected Emily. Emily was dying with embarrassment. How could she have grown so excited? How? How? And Karen's light fingers just at the base of her belly were not helping matters. How they danced just above her hairy mound! How they twined their way down into the wonderful bush, brushing it with powder, turning it a lighter color, combing the hair until it all stood up in its thickest thatch. Oh, her cunt must be absolutely dribbling! She could feel the sheen of moisture making the insides of her thighs slippery. Unconsciously she tipped her hips forward, offering that lower mouth to her maid, making the lips kiss moistly open and the inner red more visible.
But at that instant the cap came off the powder jar, and the white perfume cascaded down Karen's front and spread across her stockinged legs. "Oh! Look what I've done!"
Emily was nearly too excited to see; certainly she could not speak. Only she watched as Karen bustled to save what powder she could. But there was so much spread across her uniform. And her stockings! Just look at those stockings. It would be easier, really, to take the uniform right off. Much simpler to clean it that way. Such a shame to have spilled all that wonderful powder. And then Karen's uniform was gone. She stood before Emily in panties, garterbelt, and the ruined stockings, her boyish body quite tanned and supple. "Perhaps you could help me with these stockings," she asked.
Emily could only nod.
Karen took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. She sat upon the edge of the bed with her long legs stretched out before her. "Perhaps you'd straighten them and brush away the powder. You see, I can't reach it all."
And, after all, that made sense. So difficult to reach all over one's legs. Emily knelt down between the girl's legs. Really, she had a lovely body, so trim, so slight. Not so gross as her own. Oh, how she wished that she might have been blessed with small, champagne-glass breasts like those.
But it was such a strange sensation, holding Karen's relaxed leg in her hands, brushing away the bits of powder. Karen reclined back upon her elbows, looking down the length of her sloping body to instruct Emily in her ministrations. Emily brushed one leg off thoroughly, taking time to make certain she had gotten all the excess from the brown flesh above the edge of the stocking. And then she raised the other thigh to repeat her operation. The action of raising the thigh made Karen's cunt gape open for a moment under its thin and translucent shield of nylon. Emily's eyes just happened to be upon it at that moment-really, just happened!-and she saw that Karen herself was excited. The crotch of the panties grew damp before her eyes, and a sweet and sexual odor began to suffuse the fragrance of the powder. And how could this be? A coincidence, to be sure. That the two of them should have become excited purely by happenstance at the same time. Really, it was almost laughable.
"I don't ... I'm not sure I've got them quite straight," said Emily. "If you'll just stand for a minute, I'll...." Karen stood above her and opened her legs so that Emily could slip her hand between. Emily found her face pressed against the top of Karen's thigh, just under the lacy fringe of her panties, as she fumbled with the stockings. Her nose was turned toward the bulge which evidenced Karen's moistening cunt, and she could smell the musk more strongly now. It was all so very odd! There was this girl's pussy right before her eyes. There was something awfully fascinating about another woman's sex. Truly, she did like to look at other cunts than her own, in public showers, for example. Just out of curiosity, of course. Merely a healthy curiosity. But this was certainly the closest she had ever been to one. It was a pretty thing, actually, the way it cupped down so smoothly between her opened thighs. Quite a lovely sight. Quite, well, exciting.
And as she understood that the sight was adding to her own torturous arousal, she was shamed. There was a name for women like that, women who grew excited by their own sex. But as she began to draw back in confusion, Karen sat down again, holding Emily's head in her hands. Emily found her face pressed unequivocally against the moist and odorous crotchband of Karen's panties. A kiss was being offered her more strange than any she had ever imagined.
"I...." she managed to mumble against the hot and perfumed groin, and then, entirely of its own volition, her tongue came from between her lips and pressed itself tentatively against the very wet center of the bulging nylon. A tremor ran through Karen's body, and the girl's breath escaped with a hiss. Emily tried to turn her face to one side, to collect her thoughts, to draw away, but Karen held her securely with her hands and seemed to urge the intimacy once more. Well, once more might be all right, and her tongue began a longer and more complete caress this time. She began to taste the juices which were flowing sweetly, so like her own and yet quite different all the same. Strange, but not unpleasant at all. In fact, it was gratifying to feel the trembling which activated the girl each time her tongue returned to the spot where Karen's clit would be. She was such a friendly soul, after all, Karen, that it was nice to do something for her. She obviously enjoyed this sort of thing. Why not give her a bit of happiness? It was harmless when you thought about it. She really wasn't one of those. No, not at all. She was just repaying the compliment of the bath.
Now Karen's hands left Emily's head and rose to caress her own breasts, but somehow Emily forgot to pull away. Instead, she actually pressed harder with her mouth, forcing the soaked material between Karen's lips.
Karen's hands came down from their activity upon her tits and began to pull her panties off. Emily was forced to sit back for a moment in order to peel the cloth from its smooth seat against the girl's cunt. Then she herself pulled them down and off the spread and stockinged legs, leaving nothing but the white straps of the garterbelt to frame a long and narrow pussy. Karen's cunt hair was redder than the hair on her head, which was of the color usually styled auburn. For the first time, Emily noticed that the sun was streaming across their two bodies. She noticed it because it lit up and flamed the tangle of hair which tumbled down to guard the slack lips of Karen s cunt Now was the time to stop, of course. This had gone on long enough. Decency dictated that she stop right here. But Karen was reclining fully upon the bed, her hips arched upward where they canted over the edge, her feet barely brushing the floor. From Emily's kneeling position, the arched and hairy cunt completely dominated the view. Karen's lips were opened and the pink inner smoothness was revealed. Emily even thought that she could see the hard nub of Karen's clit poking its head through the wet folds. It was absolutely the time to stop.
"Eat me."
The quiet voice intoxicated her. She placed one hand on each of Karen's thighs and bent hesitantly forward. Bending forward pressed Karen's thighs farther apart, and the girl began to squirm.
"Oh, eat me!"
And for the first time in her life Emily placed her mouth softly upon the cunt of another woman and tasted the true heat and wetness of a strange pussy.
She was in awe.
Immediately, Karen began a delirious twitching. Emily had some difficulty holding her position upon Karen's flowing cunt. Her nose and cheeks were buffeted by Karen's hair as the girl humped increasingly frantically. Karen's breath was hissing through clenched teeth, and, looking up along her writhing body, Emily saw that her hands were tearing at her breasts.
Thinking to increase Karen's pleasure, Emily reached below her chin and slipped two fingers deep into the girl's vagina. The heat and wetness of the hole astonished her, as did the impassioned response she received. Karen nearly rose from the bed, so enormous was the convulsion as she felt those fingers begin to fuck deeply into her cunt.
Emily could hardly breathe. Her mouth was clamped loosely around Karen's clit and inner lips, and her face was smeared with cunt juice which almost bubbled, so copious was it. She had to get what air she could through her coated nostrils, and the heaviness of the smell made her drunk. Her tongue was beginning to ache after all its unaccustomed exercise, but she kept it hard and continued to jab and tickle Karen's clit with it as the girl rose higher and higher toward her peak. There was no question of leaving now. Emily knew she was going to make Karen come, and she nearly swooned with the anticipation of feeling the girl's convulsions against her own tongue and her own mouth. Somewhere, a dam had broken open within her, and the flood of passion for this girl's body was drowning her. She was swept down a roaring tunnel, clinging frantically to Karen's thighs for support, her nose and mouth endlessly sucking on Karen's cunt, desperate to stay afloat in the inundation of passion.
And then, as she began to feel Karen tensing for the final time, her belly rippling with wave after wave of convulsions as though she were about to retch; as she knew that Karen was about to come against her face, she knew suddenly that she too was coming. Without even touching herself, she recognized just as the explosion hit her that she was actually coming at the same time as her writhing friend. Together they slammed their way through orgasms which left them both exhausted.
A long while later, Emily noticed that she was still sitting back on her knees between Karen's still legs. Her face was still gummy with Karen's cunt juice, and the cunt itself looked funny to her, as though she was seeing it for the first time.
What had happened? She almost didn't know.
But her knees were stiff, and she climbed painfully to her feet. Karen was asleep. How could she sleep in so awkward a position? She must be as supple as a cat. Emily lifted her legs gently and rolled her up into the middle of the bed. She covered her lightly with the comforter. Karen mumbled something but made no real notice, and she curled herself into a fetal ball under the covering.
As is the case after a shattering experience, Emily needed to look at herself, to see if she were still there. Yes, she was. It looked like the same woman. She touched her face. Yes, it was her face. But her mind was still swirling down that tumultuous river with no hope for a while of stopping to look back to where it had come from.
Absently, she pulled a robe around her naked body. She wandered around the room, picking things up and putting them down again. She stopped to look out through the window. It was daytime out there, she saw. The sun was up. This must be the day after she had arrived. Yes, there had been a storm, and she had come here all wet, and they had welcomed her, and shown her this room. And then she had ... yes, by herself. And there had been the business down in the library ... And now this. What was happening to her?
It looked like a fresh and delightful day out there. She saw two horses with riders too far away to recognize break out of the woods and gallop away to the right. There had been something about horses...? Oh yes, she had said she would go riding with Mr. Black. Perhaps she ought to get started with that.
"Mmmmmm."
With some trepidation, Emily turned from the window. She saw Karen in the midst of a quivering stretch. The girl relaxed and rolled onto her stomach, the comforter pulling somewhat aside as she did so. Her slim buttocks shone whitely against the brown rest of her. "Hi," she grinned.
Her expression was so friendly, so innocent, that Emily's misgivings died in the bud. "Hi," she smiled back.-"Gee, that was terrific! I feel so good."
"Um, I'm glad."
"You are some wonderful lover."
"Well, I ... I mean, I've never done that before."
Karen grinned again. "That, my dear, was pretty obvious."
Emily felt herself blushing. "It all happened so fast."
"That's the seducer's credo: Keep them falling over backwards just a little bit faster than they can run."
"Oh, you!" But she walked over and sat down on the bed. "Were you seducing me?"
"I sure was, my love."
"Oh, God," Emily wailed.
Sudden concern flooded Karen's bright eyes. "What's the matter?"
"I don't know." Emily looked at her hands, palm upward and picking at one another in her lap. "It's too fast. Too confusing. I've never been with a woman before. I've never even wanted to!"
"Now, now." Karen laid a hand soothingly on Emily's arm. "No recriminations now. It's nothing really. A light pleasure. I don't want to detract from what was a wonderful time, but you needn't be too upset about it. Nearly everyone experiences it sooner or later if he has the slightest inclination toward it. And having made love with me doesn't really change your feelings about yourself, now does it?"
"I don't know. Oh, Karen, I'm so miserable!"
"There, there," said her friend, patting her. "There, there."
Tears ran down Emily's cheeks as she wailed, "I wish Arthur were here! I wish I could talk to Arthur."
"He would understand, eh?"
"Yes." She sniffed and dried her tears. "He's a dope some of the time, such a ... a man, but he does understand me pretty well, and we used to be able to talk so easily."
"Well, you could talk to him now. He's just as far away as the telephone, as the phone company likes to remind us."
"But I can't. Don't you see? I just can't."
"I'm sorry, Emily."
Emily raised her blotchy face and looked at the girl.
"I'm truly sorry that you find yourself in that place."
"Oh, Karen!" And the tears began again.
So in soothing her, Karen opened the robe to allow the great breasts to come free. And she kissed her, all about the face and neck. Emily felt her tears flee as the light lips lingered upon her. And then there was, really, the greatest intimacy of all this morning as Karen placed her open mouth upon Emily's and the two woman kissed deeply.
Karen grew excited again as the kiss continued, but Emily was content merely with the sensation. There was no thought of response within her, so Karen proceeded with her own pleasure. She lowered her mouth to Emily's breasts and worshipped them with her tongue. Her hands dropped without embarrassment upon the crinkly hair of her sex, and she began to massage herself as she lavished upon those wonderful big tits all the love she had longed to give them. She was enormously attracted to large breasts, being so small herself, and Emily's abundance kept her in agonies of eroticism.
Emily watched as her friend's hand proceeded with their pleasure-giving task. The scent of her lover began to impinge upon her. There was excitement in her proximity to this sexuality, but it was a detached excitement, a mental excitement. Simply, she was happy that she could be the impetus for such a thing.
Karen sank back upon the bed with both her hands now shivering the slick flesh of her pussy. Her eyes were glued upon Emily's vast tits, and Emily swung them like bells to pleasure her the more.
Emily felt vastly protective, enfolding, as she watched her friend's face grow more avid. She would do anything to make this miracle possible, to help Karen with her impending climax.
She felt a surge of love that she could be such use to the girl. "Yes, darling," she crooned, "make it come so good. Make it a good, good come, my love."
She lowered her chest so that her tits swung just above the slim hands with which Karen was plying her hot furrow. She made them sway back and forth, thrilled at the sound of Karen's gasps. She titillated the girl by allowing her stiff nipples to brush the backs of Karen's masturbating hands. And that was enough. The nipples grazing Karen's flushed skin did the old trick, and her friend celebrated the ecstasy of-another orgasm.
Emily watched the shuddering come to an end, and then she dipped her face in order to kiss Karen's reeking hands. The hands, and the swollen cunt lips, and the wet hair all were kissed and licked. The taste was good, the excitement real, and the protective enclosing acute.
And then, too late for it to help, she remembered the vibrator in the drawer. What fun it would have been to use that! But there was time enough. For as she placed one last moist kiss upon Karen's relaxed cunt, she realized that she had already decided to stay on at this amazing house. Yes, it was still confusing. Yes, she was actually frightened of what might happen. But also, yes, she did want to make love with this girl again. She had to admit it. She brushed her nose through Karen's slit, inhaled deeply as she did so, and raised her head. "I'm going to stay," she said.
Karen's eyes flew open. She grinned. "That old cunt will do it every time," she boasted.
Emily didn't even blush. "Yes," she said. "Your old cunt did it again. I can't drag myself away." And, so saying, she dropped her face into the gash, and with her tongue she made it come again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hers was a grey gelding, his a bulky, restless stallion. Black, as befitted the mount of Adrian Black. The tack was well-kept and shone in the high mountain sun.
Emily held a whispered conference with her horse. She had always loved these great animals, so vast and muscular, and yet really so very delicate. A horse is a sensitive creature. He likes to know something about the person astride him. He likes to sense that his rider knows what he, or she, is doing. He will do quite a lot with a rider who understands how to speak to him. So, stroking his forelock, and neck, Emily spoke to him. She pointed out that it was a gorgeous day. She told him what a lovely coat he had-he liked that in particular. She told him she would have something nice for him to eat later if he gave her a good ride. And he responded by wuffling into her neck.
"Will he do?" Adrian was sitting well his jittery stallion.
"Sure," Emily grinned up at him. "We know things together."
She swung herself up. She had asked for a western saddle, it being her first ride in several years, and the sensation of settling down onto that broad back and gathering her reins together made her heart sing. What a day! You could see for miles! Centuries even.
Adrian's mount had been beating an impatient tattoo upon the packed earth of the stable yard. As soon as Emily was settled, he seemed to gather himself together and with one leap was lolloping down the road at an aggressive canter. Emily had to urge her mount more conventionally through a trot, but she found herself within minutes loping easily along the gravel drive in the wake of her host. Automatically, her body took on the remembered rhythm of the canter. Wind streamed past her face and whipped the ends of her hair against her neck. She was riding easily enough to look around at the landscape.
A single magnificent peak dominated the mountainscape behind the house. Long buttressing ridges ran up to it. The house was built upon a rolling slope of land enclosed between the ridges. Forest covered the ramparts around her. Off to the open side, the land fell away increasingly quickly until, blue in the distance, there rose another horizon with peaks. But that must be a hundred miles away! God, it was stupendous! On a clear day you could, indeed, see forever. They were riding up the road down which, she had walked in the storm. She had been closing the distance between herself and Adrian as she grew more accustomed to her horse's motion, and now, as they reached a height of land and began to curl around a hillock, she leaned forward, gave her mount more rein, and dug in her heels.
He was a willing thing, that horse. In an instant, she had broken into a gallop. She streamed past Adrian on his off side, leaned into the turn, and disappeared from his view with a vast grin flashing over her shoulder. Of course, no sooner has she put on her burst than he too dug in his heels, and his stallion came pounding behind her.
They were rocketing down the road toward the forest now. Emily could hear Adrian's great stallion beating the earth into dust behind her. He was drawing closer. She became conscious of the panting of her gelding, of the vast breaths pumping quickly between her clenched knees. She Jay still lower and nearly loosed the rein altogether. Her horse put on more speed. The trees were streaming toward her. She saw that the road turned to her right just under their eaves, and she hoped she could make the turn. This was growing dangerous, she knew. She didn't really have a total rapport with this horse, and it was her first ride in years. She could easily be run away with. But Adrian's stallion was level with her right hip now. She could hear his panting too, could see from the corner of her eye his staring gaze and his tongue working against the bit. She flailed at her gelding's flank with the end of her reins, screaming at him to get on, get on. He put on another burst and drew slightly ahead of Adrian again.
And then they were at the turn, and she was hauling his head round hard and squeezing as tightly as she could, creaking her muscles to stay on and in command. Her heels beat against his sides; she straightened him along the new road; she kicked him into a frenzy again; she gave him all the rein; and she was thundering along the edge of the woods, her mind plucked out and left back there at the turn. Pure ecstasy surged through her. She had done it! She had turned the horse and still held the lead. But again Adrian's stallion drew up on her right. And this time she knew she couldn't get more speed from her gelding. Already he was working up a froth and was nearly blown. Now the two horses were neck-and-neck, barreling up a slight rise. Emily saw the straining sinews of Adrian's stallion as he began to pass her. They were at the top of the rise; they were over it and hurtling down the other side to the crashing of hooves. And just at that moment two other horses trotted calmly out of the woods and into their path.
Emily had just a split-second to recognize them as the couple of the morning before she was instinctively reining hard right and pulling up. Adrian was attempting the same thing, but his stallion was going just that little bit faster: the two horses brushed together with all the force of their speed. Emily's gelding screamed and went up on his hind legs, rearing and kicking the air. Adrian managed to pull his mount into a tight stop as Emily's horse came down again and she catapulted over his head and into the air. As she left the saddle a lance of pain shot through her right knee, which had just been ground between the two flying horses, and then was sharply twisted as it left the stirrup.
The horses milled to a stop. Emily came down hard on her chest and side, knocking the wind from her lungs.
All was confusion. She could neither breathe nor speak. It was not painful, just overpowering. Hands reached her, turned her onto her back. A swirl of faces above her, mouths opening and spilling questions. She could not answer. Her rib cage heaved with its efforts to breathe. Then Adrian grabbed her by the buckle of her belt and lifted her torso from the ground. Back down again. Up. And then down again. The pressure in her chest was beginning to ease. Up again, and down. Her hands fluttered to push his away as she drew her first shuddering breath. With the breath came the pain. Her poor, abused breasts upon which she had landed. Her knee. God, her knee! It felt like fire. Her face squeezed into a painful grimace. She began to hear again. "What is it?"
"Where are you hurt?"
"My knee," she managed to gasp.
Then hands were pulling up her pant leg, feeling her joint with care.
"A sprain, I think." It was Adrian, his voice calm. "I'm sure it's just a sprain. You'll be all right in no time."
"It's better now." She tried to sit up. "God, to be able to breathe! Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
The young man of the harmonica-Larry, wasn't it?-was apologizing profusely.
"Hey. It's okay. I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
"We didn't see you."
"I know." She placed a palm over each bruised breast and groaned. But then she caught the eyes of the young woman twinkling on her, and she made a rueful grin. "That's something these men don't have to worry about." They chuckled together.
"Yeah," responded the blonde, "and they save money at a pay toilet, too. How do they have all the luck?"
Everyone was relaxing now. "Help me stand," she asked. "Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure."
"Well, if you're sure...." I m sure.
Adrian and Larry helped her up. She took a few steps on her knee, and, aside from the pain, everything seemed to work all right. "Well, I guess I'll live."
"I'm glad to hear that," replied Adrian, and he walked over to his horse. Both the stallion and the gelding seemed a little spooked by it all, but Adrian calmed them down easily enough.
Emily hobbled to her horse's side and nuzzled her face against his neck. He was pretty lathered up, but he didn't seem horribly overworked. "Boy, that sure was one hell of a race," she laughed. She patted the horse affectionately and then turned to Adrian. "I would have had you, too."
"No way, lady. No way." He was grinning back at her.
"You were starting to fade out, buster, and I would have had you."
"You were the one who was fading. I was just coming up strong."
"Ho ho! So you say."
"Care to try again?"
"I think I'll wait just a bit, thank you very much."
"Chicken."
With a laugh, Emily made the sound which the Victorians liked to write "Pshaw."
"It really was a magnificent sight," opined the blonde in an excited tone. "I've hardly seen anything so dramatic as the two of you suddenly bearing down at us."
And, of course, that brought them all into the conversation, and they had a good, jolly laugh about the whole thing.
It turned out that the girl's name was Angela Wilcox, and that she and Larry had only been married for three months. She was Mrs. Black's niece-Laura's, that is-and they were staying on here at the estate for the summer. Like everyone she had met so far, Emily found Angela prepossessing, calm, and attractive.
But at the same time, she felt the strangeness of the situation. Save for the one glimpse of her this morning, the last time she had seen Angela the girl had been eager to catch her husband's come in her round mouth. Emily easily pictured that pretty throat gulping and gulping as the hot juice shot down it. Not that there was anything particularly strange about that. Emily was herself fond of the sudden jet of a man's come against her tongue and throat. But the point was that this meeting was simply another in the seemingly endless series of sex-oriented events in the last day. Of course, none of the rest of them knew about that. None of them knew how she had lain shamelessly in ecstasy last night. And then it occurred to her also, which caused her to start and a blush to creep up from her throat, that Angela was Laura's niece. If she remembered correctly-and she certainly did-it had been the vision of Laura as her lover which had caused Angela's orgasmic triumph upon the couch. Her own aunt! And Larry had been describing the situation as though he knew whereof he spoke. What was going on here?
It appeared to Emily then as though she were living on two different planes of existence at the same time. She felt curiously detached. On the one hand, she had run out of gas, had stumbled in here, had been put up for the night, and now had just been enjoying the pleasure of a hard gallop with her host. Everything was perfectly ordinary. This was a world in which people chatted about nothing in particular, as they were doing now, ate food, smoked cigarettes-Adrian had just offered her one-and, as they say, just generally lived it up. But on the other hand, there was a second world. This second was a smoky and insubstantial landscape, one superimposed upon the ordinary realm. It was a land of undiluted lust. Sure, she had run out of gas, a perfectly normal phenomenon, but after that somehow she had been in a hovering tension between the two worlds. She had begun masturbating after she had been here only five minutes! And the access of this lustful dimension seemed to continue from that moment. With the exception of the moments of her gallop, there had hardly been an instant during the last eighteen hours when she was not in the throes of some sort of sexual activity. And when she wasn't actually masturbating or making love to Karen, she had been thinking about doing so!
Just as now. Here they were, four attractive people, sitting on the greensward and smoking cigarettes while their horses browsed quietly in the background. A scene from another time, perhaps, one in which more people had real leisure and wealth. So here they were. But as she spoke of the adventure of driving without gas last night, and made as charming and humorous a story of it as it deserved, she was watching Angela and vividly imagining her long blond loins. Her eyes were one-half full, as it were, with the staggering knowledge of her abrupt introduction to female homosexuality. It was disorienting and rather uncomfortable. Why did she like this girl? Was it just because she was a cheerful conversationalist? Or was there something kinky there too? She had herself heard Angela in ecstasy at the thought of lesbian love.
And then there was Larry. And Adrian. Neither of them were unaware of the size of her breasts under her sweater. In fact, Larry made no bones about his observation. Adrian was more subtle perhaps but he was not innocent.
Her head was spinning with it all. It had happened too fast. She wished that other world would just disappear for a while and allow her time to think. Things had been so much easier when she was with Arthur, controlled, calm, mostly predictable. If only Larry would stop examining her body! It brought things too close. But then, she had to admit to herself, she was not free of the image of his jutting cock.
She was a fair-minded girl, after all. Tit for tat. Or, perhaps, tit for that.
And then they were all getting up and mounting their horses. Her knee was much better now. It seemed that they were going to continue the tour of the property. Saying that he had a tennis date with Karen-and the mention of the name frightened Emily-Larry begged off. Angela, however, decided to forego watching her husband play tennis In favor of the further ride. If that was all right, darling. But of course, my love. And, after sufficient billing and cooing, Larry trotted off across the rolling fields in the direction of the house, one of whose turrets could just be seen.
The three riders turned and, in single file, entered the woods by the bridle path Larry and Angela had emerged from. For a half mile or so, they climbed beside a small stream. The forest was a delight, tall and still and beautiful. The horses knew their way along this trail, so there was very little riding that needed to be done. Emily could merely sit and gaze about herself at the huge boles of the trees as they rose with great solemnity toward the sun. In the lead, Adrian and Angela were speaking lowly, but their voices did not impinge upon Emily's sense of communion with the trees. She dropped farther behind, vaguely wanting this immensity to herself. Her horse came to a standstill, but she didn't notice it. The vast trunks soared over her head, seeming to bend in upon themselves one hundred feet above. A stellar's jay came clattering to stand upon a branch seventy feet above her head and scream at her. So she gave the gelding a bit of her heel and ambled on. Adrian and Angela were nearly out of sight up among the boulders along the stream.
The stillness was awesome. A city girl, she was not accustomed to the emptiness which assailed ears usually battered by the subliminal hum of man's vast creations. It was not silent, no. There was the jay, and the stream, and now and then a breeze to stir the undergrowth. But behind all those small sounds lay a great pool of calm, of stillness, upon which no ripples ran.
Everything here was overwhelming!
More time passed, as did more trees. She climbed more sharply now, and the stream made pools and waterfalls. Eventually, she recognized that she was coming to a clearing. She broke from the forest to discover, herself in a small alpine meadow bordering a lake. Adrian and Angela had already dismounted and were chatting at the edge of the lake. There was a bouldery island in the middle of the lake from which grew a few haphazard trees. Wildflowers abounded. The leak seemed to rise straight above her head. She was, in fact, in a lovely cirque below one of the buttress ridges which led to the summit. The lake was backed by cliffs and steep rock slides. The sun shone down upon her, doubling its intensity by reflection off the cliffs, and the air was still. After the humid coolness of the forest, it was a delightful change. She trotted gaily across the green.
Angela came to help Emily dismount. Emily's knee had stiffened somewhat during the ride, and she was grateful for the courtesy. But as she dropped to the ground, Angela's eyes met her own, and there passed a moment of total, though startling, communion between them. And there, then, was the other world rearing its ugly head. What had that look meant? It had been like being photographed from deep within the girl, as though her soul had reached out and grasped Emily's before Emily had taken the chance to protect herself. She had felt her insides scooped out, and all the emotions and imaginations which should have remained hidden were put at the girl's disposal.
But there was nothing of this in Angela's gay chirruping. As she danced back toward the rock upon which Adrian contemplated the universe, she stooped now and again to pluck the lovely wildflowers. She had a pretty bouquet to hand to him then with a stately and comical gesture.
But poor Emily! Really, she hardly knew which way to turn. Angela was so very sweet, so guileless. Maybe all this lust was her own invention. Perhaps there had been nothing in that look save a friendly recipience. And what if it were all her own imagination? Did that mean that she was responsible for making these events happen? God, what was the matter with her? At least, if they were being forced upon her, she might excuse herself. But if she were the one....
Emily lay down in the grass and flowers, slightly apart from Angela and Adrian. The sun baked into her, and soon she had the uncomfortable, prickly feeling of being too hot to add to her worries. Her sweater had perhaps been the wrong thing to wear. Sweat was beginning to trickle across her skin inside it, along the valley between her breasts and among the hairs of her armpits. If only Arthur were here? She'd be able to talk to him, at least. Of course, she had begun last night by confiding everything in Adrian and Laura, but so much had happened since then. She, didn't feel any longer that she could talk freely to her host. Besides, there was something about him which frightened her. He was too silent, she supposed, using his eyes to communicate for him. He made you feel as though he knew everything you were going to say before you said it, a belittling and confusing feeling. He flustered her. Before the ride, she had found herself talking faster and faster to make up for his silence, and the more she talked the more inane she heard herself become. Cod! It had only been, by an effort of the will that she managed to cheer up when her horse was finally brought to her. At least she had felt on a par with the horse! And then she had given him a good run for his money. At least she had told him something by the way she had ridden that horse.
"Hey!" Angela was bending out across the edge of the lake. "The water's not bad. Let's go swimming."
Adrian withdrew from his meditation upon the rock and grinned. "Sure. Why not?"
"Emily?"
"Oh, no. You go ahead."
"Certain? The water really is nice."
"No thanks, Angela. My knee, you know."
But that, of course, was just an excuse. She watched with envy the unselfconscious way in which Angela stripped off her clothes. She revealed to the sun a very lovely and very blond little body, as soft and naked as ever love could want her to be. Looking like September Morn, she waded out into the lake and folded herself into the waves. Adrian, meanwhile, had also stripped, and that handsome man had just as handsome a body as a face. Muscular, but not overbearingly so, rather hairy, and quite well hung. His big, circumcised cock curved down over a tight scrotum. He was beautifully tanned all over. He, certainly, was slightly more aware of his attractive shape than Angela had seemed, but then you had to make allowances for the fact that he was a man. Strutting around in his gorgeous plumage, and all that sort of thing. So silly! But, silly as it was, Emily couldn't quite make herself look away from that rippling body and that equally fascinating cock.
"Are you sure, Emily, that you won't swim?" Adrian made it quite obvious that he was standing directly facing her.
"Quite sure, thank you." Men!
"Well, if you change your mind...." He left the sentence hanging and turned away with an exaggerated ripple of his haunches. And, being a man, he disdained to walk into the water. Instead, he followed the shore of the lake until it joined the cliff, and there he found a boulder which he could climb, on which he could pose, and from which he could dive. In all fairness, it was quite a good dive.
Angela, at least, wasn't showing off. She was just having fun. With great whoops of glee she soared up out of the water, her body flashing in the sun, and sank down again. She raced. She spurted water from her mouth. She swam on her back with her pink nipples just rippling the surface. She climbed onto Adrian and dunked him again and again until he stopped being aware of himself and took off after her with a bellow of revenge. But she swam circles around him, for all of his great musculature. She was absolutely in her element, a water-rat if Emily had ever seen one, a seal, a very dolphin! She flowed through the water with her white body glimmering. She turned and twisted like a dervish, propelling herself faster and faster until she was a whirl of foam. And then she rose up in a surface dive, her blond legs pointing momentarily at the sun and her blond cunt slipping downward into the water. Emily watched her glide under the surface, wriggling, swimming horn the neck like a fish, until she disappeared in the depths. For long moments, she was invisible. And then, from an entirely different part of the lake, she erupted to the surface and up into the air like a leaping mermaid. The water shattered around her, the sun danced upon the spray, her breasts and arms and belly were silver with light!
It was too much. How could you stay out of the water with an advertisement like that dancing before you? To hell with Adrian and his foolishness! But Emily left her bra and panties on.
Indeed, the water was warm. On the surface, that is. She soon discovered that treading water made her legs and feet numb. But if she floated on her back ... Ah, this was the life!
And then there was Angela churning around her, diving under her, leaping next to her, laughing and shoving and jolting her out of her introversion. The two woman played happily, splashing and doing their best to out-maneuver each other. There really wasn't any contest however. Emily had never seen anyone swim like Angela. And, besides, after a time, her knee really did begin to pain her. So, tired and nicely chilled, she climbed out onto the island and began to explore.
The island was made mainly of boulders over which she had to climb. There were struggling trees here and there. The rocks were hot from the sun, and she lay stretched out upon one for a few minutes to allow the sun to drive away her chill. She felt very clean and quite at peace. She chuckled to herself. When she had been a girl and had sunk into a brown study, her mother had always shooed her out to run around the block. And it still worked. A little exercise did wonders for her mood.
After a while, warm, she rose to explore further. Angela was still yodelling and splashing about, and Adrian, she supposed, was still swimming his languorous laps. It occurred to her that she might strip off her underwear here, now that she felt better, and allow the sun to play all over herself, but she decided that such an action would probably make her self-conscious and horny, neither of which did she anticipate with pleasure. There was plenty to occupy her attention without the autoeroticism of nakedness. The island boasted all sorts of beautiful nooks and cranies. In fact, she discovered one which was quite special. About as big as a room, a patch of grass and flowers lay hidden between the walls of grey rock in such a way that it was completely enclosed. The sun was very strong here, and the hot, flowery air positively intoxicating. An enchanting place. She knelt to sniff at the flowers. She sat among the long grasses. Eventually, of course, she lay down on her back and closed her eyes.
The warmth of the sun caressed her. As she might have known, it began to do things to her. Oh, yes indeed. It just felt so good to lie here with the sun baking upon her. Her entire body grew limp and drowsy in the heat. A light film of sweat covered her from head to foot, ready to cool her should any breeze chance to come along. But none did. Instead, the heat seemed to redouble itself upon her. It played upon her forehead and cheeks. She felt it upon her chin and throat. The heat baked into her shoulders and the wide slopes of her big breasts. The frail material of her bra, stretched so very tightly across those pale mountains, did not shield her tits from the action of the heat. The fingers of the sun pushed right through the barrier and sank themselves deeply into the soft flesh underneath. Her nipples were melted down into wide, brown puddles upon the caps of her loose breasts. Likewise, the sun warmed her belly, where it sloped down from the prominence of her chest to the rim of her panties. Lying down as she was, her hipbones were raised against the skin of her abdomen, and in consequence they shone whitely in the sun. And her panties, like her bra, were unable to protect her pubic mound from the gaze of the sky's eye. Her wide and matted cunt hair bristled under the caress, and the hotness carried down through its kinky layer to the soft, pouting flesh below. She felt the lingering fingers of the sun gently smooth and separate her cunt lips. Almost without willing that it happen, she parted her thighs a little and tilted her moistening gash upwards to allow the sun more freedom to beat upon her cunt. Her slit began to ooze syrup from its hidden reaches until her membranes were coated with a layer of cunt spend which corresponded to the sweat which had begun to pool and run across her body.
In her bedazzled state, her mind began to slip away from her control. And as it slipped, she found that it veered unerringly to a picture which she had been trying to avoid all morning: Karen's hairy sex tipped up and waiting eagerly upon the edge of their bed. Again, she felt the strange whirling with which she had seen it there for the first time. She had been unable to draw away, unable too to comprehend what was happening. She had not known, and yet she had known, what she was doing. Again, she saw that long, deep cunt grow closer. She saw how the lips parted stickily as her hands spread Karen's thighs. Once more, she caught that intoxicating smell and felt the first tickling of stray hairs upon her cheeks and lips. And then, as her eyes came too close to the urgent mound to focus upon it, she experienced anew the exotic moment when her lips actually glued themselves to that flushed and running mouth and offered to kiss. Hesitantly, her tongue had slipped between her lips and then those of her lover to sink down into Karen's very body and to taste the cunt water which welled there.
The difference had not been so very great. After all these years of masturbating, of learning the secrets of her own cunt so that her beating off might be ever more exciting, she had learned that another woman's cunt was fundamentally the same. It had been, really, like sucking on her own cunt. Perhaps this was the closest one could come, in a curious sort of way, to making love with oneself. She adored caressing herself and making herself come. She loved to suck on her own nipples, and yet the complete self-absorption was denied her. But here it was, with another woman. It had been a simple act, uncomplicated, fundamentally aimless. Its purpose only was pleasure. And there was none of the harshness which always characterized heterosexual sex. For, with men, it was always a battle. Even Arthur, as gentle and considerate as he was, desired to impale her. That was, in fact, what she loved about men. But the utter sensuousness of masturbating, the complete involvement with herself and her own pleasure which provided her with orgasms of monumental power, was as nothing compared to the totality of making love with yourself another woman.
Everything was so different with a man. Now Adrian, for example. Infuriating man! Considerate, yes, even gentle, and yet such a man with his Big Cock. They thought you cared about their muscles and the stupid size of their cocks, but you cared what was inside instead. Who would look twice at that long hunk of Adrian's penis curling down over his balls? So what? It was just another long, brown, swaying cock, just another powerful-looking cock ready to stand up stiffly out of its forest of hair. So silly, the ease with which they all get excited. All you have to do is run your fingers lightly over the warm length of the damned thing, and it begins to stir in your hand like a bird. With Arthur now, all she would have to do was to show him the back of her cunt, to lie on her stomach with her legs open, and his thick cock would be erect in an instant. And they thought they were so powerful! Show them a cunt, and they were like putty in your hands. A provocative pose, and they were all set to go, and you had a cock to take care of. Adrian would be the same way, of course. For all of his dumb muscles, she bet, it wouldn't take her long. All she'd have to do would be to take it in her mouth for a moment. Even without doing anything. It would be enough simply to hold its wide head between her warm lips and to swirl her saliva around its shaft. She'd feel it growing in her mouth, feel it pressing against her tongue and cheeks until it was too big for her, and then she'd have him. All she'd have to do then would be to suck on its straining, red head for a while, to run her mouth tightly up and down its length, and she'd feel that sudden, hot flooding at the back of her mouth, pulse after pulse like blood, spurting into her throat, and she'd taste the slippery, salty flavor which so aroused her.
And was arousing her now.
A hand suddenly lay upon her thigh. Her eyes fluttered open, immediately to be blinded by the sun. She heard a voice say, "He wants you."
What? What was going on? She recognized the voice as Angela's. What did she mean? Who wanted her?
"He wants you, Emily."
A shadow moved across her face, cutting out the sun. Again she opened her eyes. Eclipsing the sun, a man towered above her. It must be Adrian, though she could hardly see his-face. The sky around his silhouette was blinding still. Her eyes could only rest upon his tall and tensed form, and she realized that his cock, the very cock she had been thinking about, jutted forward and upward in a rigid erection. His legs were straddled, and she looked up his form to where it swept outward at his cock.
"Go to him," came the commanding voice once again. "Go to him now."
She looked clown her body to where Angela crouched beside her hip. The blond woman was staring at her with hypnotic eyes. Her face was totally devoid of expression, absolutely serene. Her mouth opened and words came out: "He desires you."
Emily had nearly been asleep. Her mind still did not quite grasp what was going on. Everything was so hot! The white body of the woman and the darker, more dangerous body of the man seemed to hem her in. She was running with sweat, her brain baking in its skull, and the ripples of heat over her body kept her constantly in a daze.
But the smooth, honey-like voice came again. "He needs you now, Emily. You must go to him."
Warm, female hands helped to lift her shoulders. The same hands coaxed her onto her knees. She felt the air against her grassy and sweating back. The sun beat around her, but she huddled in the shade of the man. The hands tipped her face up until her eyes once more were dominated by the man's stiff cock. The woman was kneeling behind her, and Emily felt the slender blond arms around her as she stared at that quivering cock just before her face. It seemed monstrous to her befuddled brain, arched, writhing with veins. Something behind her back gave way, and she realized that her bra was being removed. Her great breasts dropped happily from confinement into smoothly cupping female palms. She felt the woman's own breast tips brush against her back.
Slim fingers pulled her heavy hair away from her neck, and she felt the air cool her sweat. The woman leaned heavily against her back now, pressing her entire body from cunt to throat against her, and whispered in her ear. "He needs your fingers, Emily. He must have them upon his cock now. See how it waits for you! See the way his cock is stiff just thinking of your cool and lovely fingers."
And as the voice directed her, Emily ran her palm over the man's knees and upwards along his thighs. The stiff hair felt scratchy against her palms. She realized that his muscles were tensed in anticipation. The hair and the proximity thrilled her, and she felt a slight, tremor through her own body. Everything was so very hot! The air was so still, the heat so terribly intense. And it felt good to have that slim, blond body pressed against her from behind. The woman's fingers were gently massaging her tits and caressing her nipples into half erection.
Emily's fingertips neared the goal. The cock with its heavy, tight balls underneath poked out and up before her face. She caught a momentary, musky odor of the new sweat upon the man's body. It was purely a masculine scent, and she recognized that it stimulated her still more. Her sun blindness was beginning to leave her, and she could see the cock in more detail. It was a beautiful object, she thought, stiff, and straight, and eager. And it leapt when she slid her first fingertip up its ripply underside all the way from its base to its tip.
In a little portion of her mind, Emily began to have fun. She played with the man's erection, using her imagination to think of new ways to stimulate him. She masturbated him tightly, and then lightly. She rubbed her hot palm across the eye in the end of his prick and felt the sudden slipperiness of his preliminary secretions. She milked the big cock with both smooth palms, rubbing them maddeningly against him. She cupped his balls and tugged upon his scrotum. She found a sensitive spot behind his sac which made him shiver when she ran her fingers lightly over it. She slid one fingertip across his crinkled and sweaty asshole, and then returned it to his swollen cock head and ran it around the rim. And, all the while, the woman upon her back was breathing warmly against her neck and encouraging her invention with whispered excitement. Her small tits were pressing enticingly into Emily's back, slipping on the film of sweat which coated their bodies. Her hands were doing what they liked with Emily's own melon-like breasts. And occasionally those hands would slip down across the soft flesh of Emily's stomach to linger around the nylon-covered pussy she found there.
The man was becoming cruelly excited under their slow manipulations. A cynical thought flashed through her mind: it was just as she had predicted. But-she had not counted upon her own excitement. The girl's fingers were doing their work. Now one of Angela's hands had burrowed down inside the panties and was working through Emily's sweaty thatch toward her wet slit. The other hand had slipped between their bodies, and Emily could feel the working of her knuckles as the girl beat herself off. Emily slid her knees farther apart on the grass as she felt the slim fingers splitting her.
She lay her mouth for the first time against the very, straining tip of the man's cock. The flesh was hot and very smooth under her lips. She could taste the salty mixture of sweat and pre-come which made the head shiny in the sun. It was an electric moment.
She allowed the hot shaft to penetrate deeply into her throat, one long downward fuck with her mouth. And then back out again. The thing had pressed her mouth out into a tall O, and her lips shone with saliva. Her mouth was suddenly wet to do it again. Masturbating the hairy base of the prick with both light hands, she repeated the motion. And he thrust at her this time as she fucked him with her mouth.
Then the girl was kneeling beside her and another mouth was pressed against the stiff cock. Emily felt the sun blaze suddenly on her back, and the lack of fingers within her flooded cunt. She slipped one of her hands downward to assuage the emptiness and was slightly shocked at the wetness she had generated inside herself. But it was too odd, both of them working on this cock. It was so very strange. Their lips met across the pole of hot flesh, and as this happened, their eyes met as well. Emily stared into those fathomless eyes and slid her mouth up and down the prick in time with the caress of the other woman. And then the woman broke the action to reach her face across the top of the prick and kiss Emily, lingering upon her wet lips. Hands began to caress Emily's big hanging tits once more and to coax her nipples back into tension. A tongue came out and licked around Emily's lips, diving into her mouth and feeling along her gums and tongue. Emily's hand began to masturbate faster as she was kissed this way. The man's hot sex felt like a bar as it burned against her chin. She lifted her hand from her cunt momentarily to lave the cock head with her own cunt juices. Her nostrils were assailed then-with her own smell as the woman continued to kiss her lips. The hand dove back into her cunt to gather another dripping load of pussy nectar. She rubbed the end of the man's cock with this slippery, musky cream and felt it jerk against her palm. And now she began to kiss the woman back.
With one hand, she masturbated herself, and with the other, she continued to caress the end of the man's cock. The hands upon her tits were exciting her so much that she finally reached across with her pussy-dripping fingers and began manipulating the woman's small and slippery tits in return. And her mouth went back to the man's sex; As the other woman took the end of his cock in her mouth, she began running tongue and smooth lips up and down its length. The idea of the woman tasting her own sex juice upon the head of the cock made her shiver closer toward an orgasm. And she needed something on her clit just then. Suddenly, desperately, she needed pressure on her little button. As though she had heard the silent need, the woman returned her hand from Emily's breast to her cunt. The slim fingers tweaked her clit just once, and immediately Emily was coming!
It had happened so fast! Completely unexpected. And then she was frantically humping her cunt against those fingers. Her mind blacked out as the waves swept again and again across her.
But she came back again to find herself still being fucked by those fingers. Her mouth was slack and rested against the man's sex hair. His hips were jerking. It was going to happen soon, Emily understood, for his thrusts were growing erratic and demanding. The woman's face was flushed, and, to help her, Emily slipped her own fingers down into that blond pussy. There she discovered the fingers which had so recently been in her own coming cunt, so together they beat that pretty cunt off. The woman's eyes were tightly shut, and her breath was coming faster through her nostrils as her face flew up and down the prick. Emily could see the outline of the cock head pressing against the inside of her cheeks as it slipped deeper and deeper. She began licking the woman's face with her long pink tongue. She licked her eyes, her nose, her chin, her cheeks. She felt the cock battering against her tongue when it licked the sweat from the woman's cheeks.
And then, with a wrench, it began. The man flailed faster and faster into that sucking mouth. And Emily could see the pulses of come thump up his length and into Angela's mouth. Hot sperm began to leak through the clamped lips, and Emily was eager to lick it into her mouth. As the woman's lips relaxed and the cock slowed its orgasmic course, Emily sucked all the thick coating of sperm she could reach from his cock, her lips, and the inside of her mouth. And then the woman herself came against her own and Emily's masturbating fingers.
Yet then Angela and Adrian laid her back upon the grass, removed her useless panties, and caressed her all over. She sucked one of her nipples into her mouth as Angela licked, her slowly from toes to cunt, and Adrian worked his hands and face across her unoccupied breast. Finally, he buried his face in her hairy armpit and sucked upon the sensitive flesh there while Angela brought her flowing pussy into another orgasm with light, rapid manipulations of her tongue.
And so it went on through the afternoon.
CHAPTER FIVE
After a brief but delicious nap after the exertions of the afternoon, Emily rose and dressed for dinner. She chose a light and airy dress with a high neck and short sleeves. It buttoned up the front of the bodice, had a full skirt, and complimented her complexion and hair with its lime green hue. She wore a bra, but when it came time to pull her panties up her legs, she just never got around to it. She sipped her feet into a pair of sandals, closed her door behind her, and didn't really notice the fact that underneath her dress she was completely nude below the waist until she was already downstairs. Well, what difference did it make after all? And it was awfully comfortable.
She met Larry in the library and made pleasant, chatty conversation with him. He told her that he had just barely managed to beat Karen that afternoon, 6-4, 5-7, 7-5, and she told him that she and Angela and Adrian had had a fine ride arid a wonderful swim. Larry suggested that she might appreciate a cocktail, and she agreed that she would. So, sipping martinis on the rocks, they strolled out into the evening toward the stables and tennis courts. Larry had said that they might find Karen still playing, and it turned out that he was correct.
They stood beside the court and watched Karen defeat Laura in a heated match. Both woman played well, but Karen had the more powerful service, despite her slighter physique. In the end, it was her ability to get her first serves in that made the difference.
And then Karen was strutting around gaily with a towel about her neck and a crowing happiness upon her face. She swore that she would trounce Larry if he had the temerity to challenge her again, which, of course, he did. Another couple came out then to use the courts and she and Karen wandered away among the yew hedges. Larry and Laura went off in their own direction.
Emily and Karen had not gone far, and Karen was still talking proudly about how improved her game was becoming, when she suddenly broke off and backed Emily up against a hedge. And there, in the full view of anyone who had happened to look, Karen kissed her on the mouth.
Now Emily felt that Karen was the only real friend she had in this house-everyone else had merged into a vast multitude who seemed always to be thrusting its sexuality at her-but she was embarrassed by this nevertheless. She tried to press Karen away, but as she did so, she felt Karen's hand cup her nearly naked pussy.
"Hey! No panties." Karen grinned at her. "Getting pretty bold, my dear girl."
Emily smiled and blushed. "I just forgot to put them on somehow."
"Well," said her friend, "all the better to eat you with." And, with that, she knelt, raised the front of Emily's dress, dropped it again over her head, and pressed her mouth upon Emily's cunt. It happened so fast that Emily didn't have a chance to object. And then, very quickly, the feeling grew so very good that she was glad she had not had the opportunity.
But there were people all about. Four or five people were now watching the tennis, only thirty or forty yards away across the tops of the hedges. They could see her at any moment, see all the way down to her waist. If they came any closer, of course, they would see the bulge of Karen's active head before her cunt, and then, to her shame, all would be known. How on earth did she ever manage to get herself into such compromising situations? There was something seriously wrong with her. There must be!
She would, put a stop to this foolishness right now. The hand which was not holding her martini laid itself upon the top of Karen's gently moving head with every intention of pushing her away. But somehow the action caused Karen's face to be pressed the harder against her loosening mound. She tried to draw away again. Instead, as before, she found that she had slumped a little against the support of the scratchy yew and tilted her pelvis forward, thus opening her sex even farther to Karen's tongue caress. It was maddening! She didn't have control over her own actions. There was Karen inserting one shoulder between her thighs to open them even more. The girl's mouth was clamped upon her hanging and hairy lips as though nothing else mattered. As though ten people might not, at any moment, see just what liberties she was taking.
And then-oh, my God!-there was Adrian smiling at her. He was drawing away from the crowd of tennis watchers to come her way. Oh, Jesus, what could she do? Her hand fluttered desperately around Karen's head, but the latter was completely absorbed in her lubricious task. Just now, for example, she was slipping one long and knowledgeable finger up between Emily's split lips so as to run it gently into her body. There it was, up inside her, twisting a little, caressing the walls of her succulent hole, and all the while, Adrian was drawing nearer. He was saying something to her now, she couldn't imagine what, across the tops of the yews. Oh, go away! Adrian, go away, please! But he didn't seem to understand her mental commands. He was walking around the edge of the last hedge now. He would lee; he was bound to see. Any second now he would-stop in shock. He would turn away in disgust. And then everyone would know what kind of a woman she was. Everyone would know that she was the kind who would let herself be sucked right out in the open. They would know!
And then, just as he would have seen, Laura came out upon the lawn and called to her husband. With a shrug, the man turned away from Emily at the last possible moment and began to retrace his steps. He smiled at her as he walked away though, and, trembling with the narrowness of her escape, Emily raised her martini to him in a silent toast.
But Karen's tongue had done its work. Her clit had risen from its warm nest to preen against the girl's tongue. Flooded with relief as she was, she nearly spilled her drink, so violently did she shudder as Karen's tongue-tip began lapping earnestly upon that pleasure-giving organ. God, the sensation was too much! Right out here in the garden. She looked vaguely around at the trees and the manicured lawns until her eyes slowly closed with the ecstasy of it all. The finger inside her was joined by a second, and together they fucked her. And Karen's tongue! Oh, her tongue. The things she did with her tongue! And that tongue was driving her closer to an orgasm, she knew. She could feel it building all along her back and her trembling legs. She felt as though she had been lifted up off her feet and was suspended by nothing but the tongue and the fingers which were loving her cunt. She floated on thin air, high, high up into the sky, while those slippery things toyed ever more frantically with the wet cunt they knew so very well. And then it came upon her. She felt herself cream over the top and begin to batter her cunt lurchingly against Karen's mouth. Her climax lasted a long time, all while she gradually slowed her humping motion and grew aware that she was still upon the ground. The last tiny tremors of her ecstasy passed slowly over her. Karen drew her fingers smoothly and reluctantly from her flooded vagina. The girl's face was still pressed softly against Emily's opened pussy, and her tongue licked gently at the inner lips and the entrance of her hole. But then the tongue too removed itself. Emily felt one last slow kiss encompass her entire hairy sex, and then Karen's face emerged from underneath her dress.
Her lover's pretty face smiled up at Emily, and she saw that Karen's chin and lips were coated with her cunt juices. The lips opened in a grin. "Hi," her friend said.
"Hi," Emily smiled back. "What a way to say hello."
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Oh, you!"
Karen stood up. The world around them began to come back into reality for Emily, but nevertheless-or perhaps for that very reason Emily took Karen's face quite openly between her hands and drew it toward her so that she could taste her pussy still warm upon Karen's mouth. It was a brazen gesture, outright and provocative. And performing it, as her tongue slowly licked her own taste off of Karen's lips, Emily grew intensely excited. She hoped that some of the tennis people might be watching.
All of them, in fact. She especially wanted Adrian to be aware that her tongue was licking her own cunt water off Karen's face. She knew just what such a sight would be doing to that great and lovely cock she had spent the afternoon with. It would be stirring anxiously inside his elegant trousers, wanting her again, wanting her mouth-this very mouth that kissed deeply into the other woman's wanting it to close around its hot head and suck all the salty, white come from within.
What the hell, she thought wildly. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Finally, she broke the kiss and glanced sideways to look her astonished audience right in the eye. Of course, as fate would have it, no one had been watching at all.
Karen found it difficult to catch her breath. "Jesus, what a kiss," she murmured.
But Emily was angry and disappointed. The one time she really had wanted to be watched! Damnation.
"Oh look," cried Karen then. "You've spilled your drink."
Indeed she had, all over the front of her dress, in fact, she had not only spilled the drink, but she had dropped the glass as well. Now that she thought back on it, she seemed to recall a faint impression of letting the glass go just as she came, but the orgasm had been so very wonderful that at the time she had not even noticed.
"I'd better change my clothes," she decided.
"I'll come with you. Can I take a shower in your room?"
"Of course."
Emily discovered that her room was cool, and blue, and shady at seven in the evening. With some little surprise, the fact was borne in upon her that she had lived in this house for less than twenty-four hours. She had never seen her room at this hour!
Karen, however, was not impressed by anything except the proximity of the shower. She pulled her tennis shirt over her head and flung it into a chair. Her small, flat tits were glimmering with sweat, as were her shoulders and back. She kicked off her sneakers while unzipping her shorts, pulled both them and her panties down and off, and was naked before Emily even had a chance to unbutton her own bodice. A light and quick kiss landed on Emily's lips, and then she saw her friend's straight back disappearing through the bathroom door. "Ooo, this is going to feel good!" came a gleeful exclamation, and water began pour in the shower.
Emily took more time undressing. She opened the front of her dress and then stood for a long moment watching nothing in particular out the window. She pushed the windows open to allow a fragrant and soothing air to circulate around her. It was an evening keen with slanting sun. The peak behind the house blazed golden as the long rays caught its granite sides. The view westward was astounding. Hardly a cloud masked the setting of the sun. The entire expanse of the heavens was delicately colored for her enjoyment. She pulled the soiled dress off her shoulders and stepped out of it. Cool air titillated her belly and her thighs. She watched as the sun sank behind the far horizon. What a day it had been, to be sure!
Then she felt a moist face and the wet ends of hair brush the back of her neck as she stood enchanted by the sunset. "Let me help "you with that," came a whisper, and the catch of her bra was undone.
She leaned back against her soft and towel swathed friend as hands came up to nuzzle at her gorgeous breasts. "I wasn't going to take it off," she murmured.
"Pity."
"We shouldn't. I'm tired."
"Oh God, such wonderful tits!"
Emily looked down her front to her breasts. They were being swung lightly from side to side by Karen's slim brown hands, and her nipples were being tweaked by longish fingernails. It was an arousing sight, and yet her tits were so very big that she felt self-conscious about them with Karen here. Now Karen's were nice tits. They were an understatement, more subtle, more restrained than her own overblown exuberance.
Again, Karen complimented her upon her breasts.
"You know," said Emily, turning to face her lover, "that makes me feel ridiculous. Arthur used to say things like that too. As though I had had any choice! He'd say, 'You have such big tits, and it would sound as though it were a condition', as you would say, 'You have pneumonia.' Karen chuckled, but her hands cupped those big breasts again and wheeled them upon Emily's chest.
"They aren't me," Emily continued. "I can't say, 'Le tits c'est moi,' like the Sun King."
"Well, they may not be you, but they certainly add to all of that which is you."
"You're just as impossible as my husband."
"I admit it."
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
"I'm afraid I just can't."
"But this is ... Karen, stop it. I'm hungry."
"Dinner won't be for another hour."
"Oh."
"Time enough to eat then."
"But we shouldn't, really."
"Ah, that's exactly where you're wrong, my love."
"I've been through so much today already."
"It's the best time."
"Karen!" Emily found herself backed against the bed. Somehow her knees buckled, and now she lay across the counterpane upon her back. "Karen, please. I'm tired."
"You'll get your second wind."
"If you only knew what happened this afternoon!"
"I'll bet I do." Karen, propped on one elbow next to her reclining friend, looked up from the fascinating view with which she had been occupied. Her hand continued to make its enchanting, light circles on Emily's stretched belly flesh though. She even expanded its area of operations, and Emily closed her eyes for a second as she felt the fingertips brush across the sensitive hairs which puddled in such profusion across the bottom of her body. "When Larry told me that you'd ridden off to the lake with Angela and Adrian, I was pretty certain what would happen. That's Adrian's method with a new girl."
"Oh, damn it all! Do you mean it was a setup?,' "It sure was, my friend," grinned Karen. I'll bet I can even tell you what happened. When you got there, it was hot, and Adrian suggested a swim."
"No, Angela did."
"Same thing. And then you said, 'But I haven't got a suit.' 'Don't worry about a thing,' quoth Adrian, and-zip!-off with his clothes. Zip! there went Angela's clothes too. And there you were. Nothing for it but to strip off yourself and dive in."
"Well, more or less."
"Right. And then first thing you knew, there was Adrian with that enormous cock all hard up against you, and Angela was pressed against your back. She likes that, Angela does, being behind you and directing the whole business. And then, as they say, one thing led to another."
"It sure did." Emily grinned ruefully.
"What'd they have you do?" Karen's fingers increased their pressure slightly upon the lower slopes of Emily's tired cunt, and, to Emily's surprise, she felt herself growing wet once again.
"Oh, I don't know...."
"Did he fuck you? Did he slide that big cock up into your hot cunt? Huh, Emily? Did he hick this cunt I like so much?" Her fingers had burrowed down through the hair now and were occupying themselves with soothing along the puffy edges of Emily's lips.
"No. No, he didn't."
"You blew him then, didn't you, Emily?"
"Well, I-"
"Didn't you? And Angela helped."
"Yes, she did. It was ... I've never done anything like that before. Both of us at the same time. It was...."
"It was what?" Karen's fingers had found a little syrup now and they commenced to rub it into the red flesh of her friend's inner lips. "What was it?"
"Well, it was, um, it was...."
"Yes?"
"It was, well, nice."
"Ah. I thought so. You liked it, didn't you?"
"Yes. I did."
"And it's exciting you all over again, isn't it? It's making your beautiful, hairy cunt all excited."
"Yes." It was a whisper. Emily's eyes were closed.
"You like to think about it while I play with your stiff clit, don't you?"
"Yes. Oh yes!"
"And did you eat Angela too? Did you, Emily? Did you lick her little pussy with your tongue?"
"No, I-"
"But you wanted to, didn't you?"
"Oh, I did. Yes, I wanted to suck her cunt! I wanted it!"
"Would you like to suck my cunt, Emily?"
"Oh!"
"This creamy cunt I have between my thighs?"
"Oh, don't say it!"
"You'd like to suck it now, isn't that right?" Emily felt her lover shifting her position on the bed. Her eyes were still shut as she caught a heavy whiff of cunt musk. "YOU want this wet cunt against your tongue, Emily. You need to have it all open and slippery upon your mouth, don't you?"
And as Emily breathed "yes" once more, she felt hairs tickle her nose and lips. Her eyes flew open. Karen's ass hung over her face, stretched open, and her emit was being lowered toward her mouth. The white flesh loomed everywhere. Her entire world was composed of Karen's slender ass and her long cunt. The wet folds touched her nose, and she pursed her lips so that they might contact them. Her tongue came out and pressed itself hard up into the runny slit which was stretched so far open. Karen groaned and sank her weight upon Emily's face. Emily's nose was buried in Karen's open vagina, bathed in the woman's juices, and she found it difficult to breathe. But the ecstasy of that cunt utterly drowning her was too much. Her hands circled Karen's slim thighs and opened her ass cheeks even more. Karen's asshole, surrounded by its few red hairs, stretched before her eyes, and she rubbed her fingertip across the opening. The muscle flinched when she did it, so she did it again. Soon, she was pressing the very tip of one finger into the hole. It sank slowly out of sight, one joint and then another, and Emily felt her lover lowering her own torso. It was at that moment that Karen's mouth pressed itself into her own cunt, and a frantic tongue began to lave her clit and lips. Emily raised her legs and crossed them over Karen's shoulders so as to provide her friend with as much cunt as possible, and she slowly commenced to sling her cunt against the woman's face.
Totally absorbed in their mutual lovemaking, the two women pressed their faces ever harder into each other's flowing sexes, until the slits were mashed open and their tongues were aching with the constant flickering. Emily came first. Her orgasm swept over her like a wave of darkness, and she held Karen tightly in the embrace of her thighs. She slung her cunt against the woman's face as though Karen had been a man, and it had been his pelvis which banged upon her clit while his long cock slammed into her cunt deeper and deeper. She shook and shuddered frantically as the come possessed her, and then, as it began to subside, Karen lifted her face from Emily's dripping pussy.
"Don't stop! Don't stop!" Emily heard her friend begging, and she redoubled the pressure of her tongue on the woman's clit. She sank her finger all the way into Karen's asshole, pulled it out, and plunged it in again. Her other hand grabbed a handful of ass flesh and shook it frantically, slamming the clit against her tongue even harder, harder, rubbing Karen's asshole maddeningly against the finger which plowed into it.
"I'm gonna come," she heard. "Oh, I'm going to come! I'm coming now. Here I go! I'm coming! Oh, I'm coming! I'm coming!"
The orgasm nearly drowned Emily, so desperately did Karen sink her cunt into her lover's face. But the wrenching jerks of those hips against her made her ecstatic. Karen was coming against her very own tongue! She was making her friend come, and come, and come and the juices of that famished cunt poured along her face. Oh, how wonderful it was to feel those slowly quieting shudders and know that Karen had celebrated a tremendous come!
Replete and moist, the lovers lay in their flung positions upon the bed. Evening sounds came to them through the window. A bird sang sorrowfully after the departed sun. And was that a hit of Larry's harmonica? A car started up and drove away. An errant breeze stirred the curtains and slid along their cooling bodies. Voices passed under their window, and from the stables came the neigh of a horse.
Karen's head rested upon Emily's outstretched arm. She turned her face and snuggled into Emily's armpit. Her lips lightly kissed the hair there, and she murmured, "This is really the best part."
"I know," Emily replied. "Afterwards."
Yup.
Silence closed in upon them again. Emily felt even more hungry now than before, but she was too lazy to move. "It must be about time for dinner," she mused.
"Just about."
"Ought to get up."
"Ought to," and Karen kissed Emily's armpit again. "Smells good in here," she commented.
"Hey, that tickles!"
"Sorry."
"I'm hungry."
"So am I."
"Know what's for dinner?"
"No. I decided not to be a maid today."
"YOU have a pretty cushy job."
"Sure do." Karen's hand closed warmly over Emily's breast. "I do like these."
"Well, I do too, when you do."
Her friend raised her head to kiss the wide, limp nipple, and then her face collapsed back down again. "Whew! I'm done in. Eight sets of tennis, and then this!"
"I'm pretty well exhausted too. It seems like I've been doing nothing except coming since I got here."
"Not a bad way to live," Karen chuckled.
"You're right, at that. I'd never have thought I would have the stamina."
"I told you there was a lot going on here."
"You also said there were people who didn't do it. I'd like to meet one of them right about now!"
"Too bad for you, kiddo," grinned Karen. "That was a lie."
"I was afraid of that," Emily sighed. She raised herself onto her elbow, dislodging Karen's face, and looked down at her friend. "This is all damned confusing to me, you know."
"I know it must be, dear. I'm sorry about that."
"Not that I'd want to be doing anything else," Emily grinned, and her hand landed upon Karen's cunt. The girl jumped. "I rather like it, you know?"
"I thought you did. Somehow I got that impression."
"But," and she heaved herself onto her stomach, "I'm too confused even to think."
"Then don't. Just let it be."
"As they say.' "As they say."
"And I don't miss Arthur so terribly anymore. I am lonely for him, true, but I have the feeling that I'm finding something out about myself that I couldn't if he were here."
"Probably."
"But that doesn't mean I won't go back to him. I was thinking about it as I rode home this afternoon. I'd always assumed it was something besides sex which was driving me away. Our sex wasn't too great, but I thought it was some deep, psychological thing of some sort which was causing the split. But now I think maybe it was sex after all. Or what sex stands for maybe, an access to the body perhaps. A trust in the body. Arthur was always too cerebral. He didn't trust his body. It scared him, really, poor man.
"May I say something?"
"Well, of course."
"It's a warning. Don't get believing that sex is anything other than what it is."
"Oh, I understand that."
"Not yet, you don't. It's just that I've been here for almost a year. I was even less sure of myself when I came than you were, if you can believe that. And I've gained a lot of confidence through my body and exploring my emotions. But it's a limited road, Emily. There's got to be some love too, something holy-if I may use such a word-to translate that body knowledge into a lifestyle."
Emily mused upon that for a moment, then said, "You make a good point."
"It's just that I'm about ready to leave this place. I can't go any further here. I need to be part of a home maybe, a real home, not like this place. I mean this is just something out of Playboy. It's Adrian's big fantasy trip. Everyone fucking all the time with anyone who happens to be in bed with them. It's okay for the people who come up from the cities for a holiday-they have lives to go back to. But what about us who are here all the time? We're just sort of like another fixture of the place, like the horses, or the mountains. That's why I like you so well. You came here by accident. You didn't know what you were getting into. You remind me of myself, you see.
Emily rolled over onto her back and stared at the canopy over her head. "I don't think I'm going to get too carried away."
"That's what they all say, my love."
"Well, I can always just leave, right?"
"Sure. So can I."
Emily glanced at Karen's serious face and then sat up. "You know, I really am hungry."
"Hey! So am I. Come on."
CHAPTER SIX
As Emily had hoped that it might, the music occurred again that evening. It crept up the stairs of that vast, night-shrouded house. It flooded like a tide along the corridor outside her bedroom. It flecked and whirled against her door until It found a crack underneath through which it could seep. Scintillating, as it had been last night. Pulsing, demanding, intoxicating. Emily smiled. Yes, well, she thought she knew pretty much what it was all about down there. She had waited, and here it was, and this was the time. Now she would beat them at their own game, and then perhaps she really could take charge once more.
She rose and placed the screen before the fire. Was she dressed properly? What did one wear, after all? But she had chosen the ensemble with care. Her frilliest and most insubstantial panties, a skirt both comfortable and alluring, quite a tight sweater, and, of course, no bra. It was attractive, useful, and easily discarded. She studied herself in the mirror for a moment and struck a hipshot pose. Not bad. She nicked up her honey hair, gave her nipples a pinch so they would stand out against the sweater, and she was ready. Look out below!
But it was not to be so. Last night, she had crept as silently as might be through the darkened house. Now she was a guest in her own right, and she might not be gainsaid should she wander the corridors in the moonlight. And yet, just as had occurred last night, her descent was interrupted. Seemingly from nowhere, an arm and voice arrested her just as she was about to open the cellar door.
"Hey!" It was a man she had never seen before, older, perhaps fifty, in evening dress. "Hey," he repeated himself.
"Yes?" she answered, somewhat coldly to be sure. His hand on her upper arm was tight.
You II do.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come along."
"But I was just going down-"Going down, were you?"
"Yes." Emily was uncertain that she wanted to know this man any better than she already did. "Yes, down to the music."
"Ha!"
Emily attempted to draw away. "Look, I-"
"Come with me, chickie." He began to tug her back toward the front of the house.
"But I was going-"
"Yeah. I heard you. He was a thin man, with a clipped voice, and he was hurrying her across the parquet of the entrance hall. It was happening too fast. "I'm not certain that I want to-"
"To be sure. To be thoroughly sure."
But "You were going down, weren't you?"
But "Yeah."
"But-" And they were outside. A small but chilly breeze swept around the corner of the house. It burrowed quickly through the knitting of Emily's sweater and hardened her big nipples. And she was barefoot.
"Look." Emily was beginning to grow alarmed. "I don't even know you."
"You will, chicide. Believe me." His fingers tightened upon her upper arm, and he began leading her to the left along the veranda.
Now, at last, she dug in her heels, figuratively of course. That flagstone was cold. "No! I'm not going. I don't know you, and I don't like the way you're acting, and I won't go with you."
"You like it that way, do you?" Before she had a chance to speak or to understand what he meant, he swung himself behind her and had her arm in a hammer-lock. Forcing her wrist up between her shoulder blades caused her to arch her back sharply, and this thrust her pointed breasts out farther even than usual. His left hand took the opportunity to seize one of the massive glands and squeeze it too hard.
"I'll scream," she warned him, and she drew in a breath with which to carry out her threat.
"I don't think you will," came his calm, thin voice. The hand mauling her tit clamped itself instead across her mouth. "I think you'll just be a quiet, good, little chickie with big tits, arid come right along with me. We'll have lots of fun together, you'll see."
Indeed, he was too strong for her, and she had no choice but to go with him. He maintained his pressure on her arm just forcefully enough to discourage resistance but without doing her any real injury. And as she marched along, he whispered to her through her hair.
Really! He was not a nice man at all. The things he was saying! About her poor titties, how big they were, and how hard her nipples. Just as she had been saying to Karen this afternoon: he was mistaking her tits for herself. Misguided man! He thought that just because she had big breasts, she liked doing that? Men! What conceit. She didn't, really. Well, only with someone she truly loved. Otherwise it was just an act, just lust. And lust was pretty limited after all. Not much to be said about it. And that. No, truly, she didn't enjoy that at all. No, it was a male fantasy altogether. They thought you liked it, they tried to make you believe you liked it, but it was uncomfortable. And boring, when you came right down to it, and now here he was harping on her cunt again, its size and warmth and hairiness. She was afraid that his speculations in that particular regard were quite correct. Oh damn, why did she have to have such abundance? Her cunt, for example, was a rather hirsute specimen, actually quite lovely when you came to think about it, as cunts go, which may not be very far, but who cares anyway? It wasn't, as this awful man kept claiming, the size that mattered. It was the love which activated it. It ain't the meat, it's the motion, as the song says. You can't share anything simply on the basis of a cunt! And juicy. There he goes on again about how juicy it probably is. He even thinks she's getting excited right now. He guesses that her cream is beginning to gather between her legs. Well, really! That wasn't happening at all. At all. No, this was a potentially dangerous situation, and her mind was exclusively on means by which she might escape. That's what anyone would be thinking of right now, escape. After all, she was afraid. Who knew what might happen to her? His intentions were clear, that was for certain. The things he was saying about his cock and how hard she was making it. Well, goodness, she wasn't doing anything. It wasn't any of her doing. She could feel the gross thing pressed hard against her rump as she walked, forcing its brazen way between her buttocks, and she knew that she hadn't done anything to make him feel that way. It really wasn't exciting her at all to be propelled this way through the dark toward who-knew-what exotic fate. Nor was that cock against her ass affecting her. Any sexual anticipation she might have felt up in her room was gone now. Of course, it was. Now it was just a matter of escaping. She really didn't care that he was going to do that. Awl she most certainly was not ever going to be persuaded to do that. No, sir. And the thought of it was not making her cunt get creamy. Her cunt was perfectly arid, she could assure him, thank you very much. His talk was not making her grow squishy. Her nipples were hard, she would have to admit that, yes, but they were hard purely because of the cold. It was cold out here, and it was only because of the cold that she was pressing herself backwards against him. It did not, repeat not, have anything to do with that stiff erection between her cheeks.
Emily's attention was now drawn to the fact that they had arrived at the door of the greenhouse. So this was the place. The man took his hand off her mouth long enough to open the door and propel her through into the warm, humid air. As he turned from her to close the door, it occurred to her that she could have made her escape then. She could at least have screamed. But she hadn't thought of it in time, and now her fate was sealed. She felt sorry for herself as she stood still and waited for him to finish closing the door. If she had stayed in her room where she belonged....
The gravel paving was painful to her bare feet. The man took her arm again and led her along one of the paths. It was quite a large greenhouse, filled with exotic flora, even trees, and from somewhere ahead came the cheerful tinkle of falling water. The man had contemptuously released his hand from over her mouth. It would seem he didn't care whether she screamed or not. Perhaps he even wanted her to scream. She had heard of men who liked that. Well, she wasn't going to give him any satisfaction. By God, she wasn't going to scream, and that was just that. He would have to get along without her screaming. If he thought he could make her scream, well!
In the center of the greenhouse stood a small fountain, maintained to increase the humidity and to provide a peaceful spot for contemplation, should anyone want to use it. A small lawn sloped down into the ordered plantings from the fountain. The moonlight made everything curiously black and white. What colors there were, were severely muted. It was all rather eerie. The man shoved Emily out upon the lawn where she stood massaging her aching shoulder. Now, she supposed, he would have his way with her, and then she could get on with her business in the cellar. She had a point to make to the Blacks down there, and she was growing impatient with all this silly business. She was just about to say, "Let's get on with it," when he interrupted her by calling, "Look what I found."
She couldn't imagine to whom he was speaking until she saw two more men emerge from the trees. "She looks as though she'll do," muttered one.
The two also wore evening dress, but they were a good deal younger than the man who had captured her. One, in fact, was quite good-looking, having closely cropped, curly hair and a smiling, pug face. Emily felt that she had met him that afternoon somewhere. All three men seemed completely at ease in this situation.
"She likes to pretend that she isn't interested," explained the older man, "but look all these tits!" With that, he suddenly jerked her sweater out of her skirt and over her head, imprisoning her arms and face inside it.
Emily knew that her towering breasts were bare in the moonlight. She could feel that her nipples were stiff-from cold, as she had previously made clear. Now it was too late to scream. She was trussed up inside her sweater, and no one could possibly hear her. Besides, she had only herself to blame for the predicament. If she had insisted on going down into the cellar instead of being swept along by that man, she would not now be here having her breasts pawed by three men. For they were certainly pawing her. Calloused fingers pulled at her nipples, rough palms jiggled her orbs. The men were chuckling to themselves over their catch. They were awful! And yet ... and yet there was something not altogether unpleasant about it. She couldn't see. She was entirely in their hands. She was their captive, and undoubtedly they would make her perform all sorts of strange and erotic maneuvers. It was all rough hands and sharp teeth, hairy bodies, and sweat.
"She's not struggling much," opined one.
"You're right," agreed the original man. Perhaps we ought to make her wiggle a little. What do you think?"
"Sounds good to me."
The flat of a hard hand was slapped sharply against the end of one of Emily's full breasts, mashing it. The pain was so sudden and so unusual that Emily yelped and jumped to avoid a second blow.
"That's the stuff, chickie. You just keep jiggling them around like that, and I'll not have to slap you again.
Emily struggled desperately to get her head free. Now she did want out of this situation. She was certain that if she explained that a mistake had been made, that she really wasn't the woman they thought she was, they would apologize and let her go. It had been a simple mistake, after all. A misunderstanding.
And then everything stopped. Suddenly, there came no sound from the men. Her sweater was released.
Hastily she pulled the garment down to cover her suffering breasts. She looked around through tousled hair. The three men were looking guiltily along one of the paths which radiated through the plants, and Emily felt a surge of relief when she saw a woman's shape coming their way through the fronds. Such a statuesque silhouette could only belong to Laura Black, her hostess. Now, she was certain, the misunderstanding would be cleared away. The men would let her go and capture instead some legitimate prey.
"What's going on here?" came the query.
"Just a bit of a party," replied the older man. "We've found ourselves something quite nice, Laura, quite nice indeed. A sexy little cunt with a pair of the most astounding jugs you've ever seen."
And it was all so strange! Laura didn't even flinch at the terrible way the man had described her. Instead, as she ambled up onto the lawn, her face was alive with humor and interest. "Ah, Emily! So you're the one."
"Laura!" Emily stumbled forward. "You don't understand. I don't want to be here. They're so rough, you see, and unpleasant." Behind her, she heard the men chuckle. "I was just going downstairs, and this man grabbed me, and-oh! It's so awful." But even as she said it, she realized that it hadn't been, not as awful as she was picturing.
But Laura was sympathetic. "Of course it is, my dear. Of course it is." Laura put her arm around Emily's shoulders. "You don't like this rough treatment. Well, I don't blame you. I wouldn't like it either. No one likes being mauled and pushed about. Now you just sit there by the fountain, dear, and I'll dry your poor face. You have had such a trying time with these men."
As she had last night, Laura came to the rescue. Emily allowed herself to be seated. Laura knelt by her side arid dipped some water up on her handkerchief. The coolness was grateful against Emily's flushed and sweating forehead and cheeks, and she began to grow calm. The men, meanwhile, were standing around awkwardly, apparently crestfallen at the failure of their foul scheme.
"No woman likes being roughly treated, my dear. Of course you don't."
Emily felt so very relieved because someone at last understood that her fundamental goodwill bubbled forth once more. It seemed now a happy occasion, a glad gathering of friends who had been brought together, to be sure, by a misunderstanding, but who were now pleased to be in one another's company. She made every effort now to make the men feel at home. She smiled up at her former tormenters. "It's so silly. I would have been happy to meet you all, if you had just asked. I'm sorry if I misled you somehow, but you must admit that you did persist.
They, in their turn, apologized prettily, and soon all five were sitting upon the lawn and chatting about the beauties of the peaks as revealed by moonlight. It was really extraordinarily soothing to lie on her back looking out through the panes at the high, mountain night with these amiable companions.
Someone-Laura-lit a cigarette, took a long puff, and handed it to her. Strange way to smoke a cigarette, she thought, but then she caught a whiff of it. "Ah," she grinned, "ye olde wacky weed."
"Far fucking out," commented the curly headed man.
"Far, as you so rightly put it, fucking out," replied Emily, and she took a long toke. It was green and strong. "Jesus, this is some fine dope," she breathed in that tight voice one uses. She passed the joint along.
And Laura lit a second, thicker than the first, nearly a cigar, and handed that to her. Soon there were three joints going around, coming to Emily so frequently that she hardly could smoke fast enough to keep up.
"Oooooo, yesssss," she crooned as her first buzz seemed to turn her over and over. "Oh, it's so good to be stoned again!"
"We grow it ourselves, right here," commented Laura. "Organic."
Emily's sudden splutter at that lost her a lungful of smoke, but it sure was a good joke. She collapsed against Laura and giggled helplessly. "Organic dope?"
"All those little compost-beasties do their good work."
"Who's that guy, the Grape Nuts man?" Emily put on a serious expression and a drawl as she passed the joint along. "It's taste reminds me of wild hickory nuts."
And now they were all laughing, building on top of that.
Finally, the laughter dwindled away, and Emily suddenly felt a deep concern for the men she had treated so badly. After all, they had only wanted to have a little fun with her. There was nothing wrong in that. So she sat up and took the older man's face in her hands. "I'm sorry," she said. "It wasn't you, you know. I really got scared."
"Well, I should have been more sensitive," he replied. "But you liked it at first, didn't you?"
"Until you hit me."
"I never was much good at knowing how to hit a woman," he said ruefully. "I suppose because I don't really like it."
"That's just as well, for I don't either."
She looked him deeply in the eyes for a moment and then bent forward and kissed him on the lips. She had initiated the kiss in a purely experimental mood. It was another sensation to revel in. The dope was making her float upon a tide of sensation, and, as a general thing, she had always enjoyed the sensations of a kiss.
Her present condition only accentuated that. But, as is often the case with dope and with kisses, what was begun as a whimsey changed during its action into something more serious. Emily realized after what seemed like a long time that her eyes had been tightly shut all the while, and that the nearness of this man was stimulating her. She had started the kiss, she recalled, but he gave as good as he got, and now she felt decidedly breathless. There was a curious sensation of light, feather-like touches all over her calves and thighs, and she looked down to discover that this was logical after all, for his hands were occupied with titillating the sensitive skin of her legs. It amused her to watch those tanned and masculine hands pass their quivering way up and down across her smooth flesh. She leaned back upon arms propped behind her and looked down her gorgeous torso at her legs, all loose and splayed for the man's entertainment. Her skirt somehow had become fucked higher than normal. She herself was aroused at the sight of so much handsome thigh catching the soft, white light of the moon.
The man too must have been excited by the sight, for he bent reverently forward and planted a kiss upon the instep of her nude right foot. He lifted the little foot in his hands and kissed her instep again. The sensation was indescribably erotic. No one, she thought, had ever kissed her feet before. An unused portion of her body, virgin territory, ultima thule, and she nearly collapsed back onto the lawn as the almost-tickling kiss was repeated. His lips then paid tribute to her heel and the ball of her foot.
One by one, he took her little toes into his mouth and sucked them. He licked the little crevices between them-and an errant thought from another world flickered across her mind: thank God, she had both bathed and swum today! But his mouth continued to worship her foot, now climbing slowly along its top toward her ankle. He kissed each bone of her ankle, and then, holding her heel and the fleshy portion of her calf, he proceeded upwards along the inside of her leg. He was kneeling between her legs with her right leg lifted into the air somewhat, and Emily was acutely aware that his eyes could easily travel up the white curve of her calf, over her rounded knee, and back downward along the darkening flesh of her beveled thigh. She knew, too, that if he followed that lovely vision far enough, he would be greeted at it end by the sight of her very apex, lightly and inconsequentially clad in her most lacy panties. She saw the picture as she had often examined it in mirrors: her thigh raised, her prominent pussy mound raised between the thigh and the rest of her body; her soft cunt lips gently encased in their light material pouting succulently under the downward curve of her cunt bone, and all of it disappearing backwards in the fleshiness of her ass. She knew that this was the sight he was watching as he slid his kisses along the inside of her calf. She knew that he was moving slowly toward her cunt, that his face was approaching it as his lips slid over her knee. She knew he was looking deeply into her cunt as he commenced his ministrations to her thigh. Her skirt was pressed higher by his head, and now she could see nothing really except the darkness of his hair, and her skirt, and the lawn around them. Her head rolled back on her shoulders, and she concentrated on the feeling alone.
And what a feeling it was! Her smoke-befuddled mind felt his lips and warm breath passing along the intimate inner softness of her thigh. It felt her leg being opened slightly more to allow his face the room it wanted. She felt that her cunt was tilted anxiously upward and that her hairy lips nearly cried out in their eagerness to feel those smooth kisses upon their own swollen prominence. And they would soon have what they wanted, for his mouth was now gliding nearly into her crotch itself. His nose must be suffused with the exotic perfume of her cunt juices and the scent she had earlier been wise to apply to her cunt hair. His lips must be trembling and his mouth flooding with saliva at the proximity of her wet and soft cunt. In fact oh yes ... now his tongue had come out and was licking upwards along the crease between her thigh and her cunt. It would be forging its wet way through her stray cunt hairs, feeling the side rim of her panties, testing the soft weight of her pudendum against its slithery thrust. Emily's eyes closed. All her attention was concentrated on what would be next. Next he would plant a kiss right on the hanging hairy lips themselves. She would feel his mouth press into her flowing slit, pressing her panties before it, up into her radiant cunt, hard up against her desperate clit. And she was correct: that was exactly what he did. Her breath escaped in a long and moaning sigh as she felt the first real pressure on her clit. Involuntarily, her hips bucked once against his face.
But he did not continue the caress. Instead, he raised himself away from her cunt, and applied his lips to the instep of her left foot. Oh! This was too much. He was going to proceed through the entire process again. He was going to make her wait still more time for that tongue on her clit. He was going to torment her by bringing his face slowly more and more within range of her cunt, until her pussy was so flooded with anticipation she feared she wouldn't be able to stand it. As it was now, she felt that her cunt was literally on fire with lust. She needed his mouth upon her flowing sex. Her pussy was in an agony of lust. Oh, eat me, she begged him in her mind, please, please, eat me!
His patience, though, was praiseworthy. He continued to kiss her left foot, her toes, and her instep, her heel and the sides of her ankle, until he had lavished on it all the reverence that he had earlier bent upon her right. Emily dropped back down until she was lying upon the warm grass. Her left leg was completely in the hands of her lover, and she now hoped he would spend an infinite amount of time on his slow climb to her cunt. The building tension was a terrific stimulant. She wanted this anticipation to last forever.
Her head rolled sideways, and her eyes rested upon Laura's shape beside her. She too was slumped and open, her shoulders propped against a comfortable pile of sods, but in her case there were two men kneeling before her. Each of the men was feeling one of her great breasts through her blouse. Her head was rested back on the turf, and her eyes were rapturously shut. A forgotten, smoldering joint was clasped loosely in her fingers. Emily gently extracted the thing and sucked the good smoke way down deep into herself. The attention being paid to Laura's perfect breasts reminded Emily of her own. One hand rose to cup her left breast and to feel the thrilling rigidity of her nipple. She felt the trembling, tickling excitement as she squeezed that big point run all the way down to her cunt and send a shiver through her clit. She slipped her hand underneath her stretched sweater onto the warm slopes of her breast so that she would have more access to her own nipple.
And Emily watched as Laura's hands rose to the top button of her blouse and popped it open. The men ministering to her looked at the new V of white flesh with avid eyes. One even bent to place his lips upon it for a moment. And Laura loosed the second button, so that the moonlight played across the inner slopes of her swelling tits. Emily's eyes-were drawn to the little cones of Laura's nipples poking boldly through her blouse. One more button, and she would be able to see them standing tall in the moonlight, she thought, and her fingers tightened on her own nipple in anticipation. The third button was opened, and now Laura's large and flawless breasts were exposed to the gaze of the two men. Laura drew the material aside and off her tits so that they stood out like twin cones toward the anxious men. Since her blouse remained buttoned below them, they seemed to be lifted and thrust forward, out-lined by the dark material. Emily sucked on her joint and admired the womanly magnificence as much as the men did. He palm smoothed over the billowy richness of her own breast as she realized that Laura's tits, though not as large as her own, of course, were the largest and most perfect she had ever seen which rose without sag or disproportion. These breasts were crowned by long, thick, tensed nipples which showed their darker color boldly in the moonlight. And they were the target for two eager mouths.
Emily was as stoned as she had ever been now, and yet the joint continued to offer her more. She realized that watching Laura open her blouse had distracted her from her own lover's caress. She had been unaware of his glide across her calf. Now his lips lightly brushed the soft flesh behind her knee, and the sensation caused a renewed quiver in her cunt. Would he ever get all the way up into her hot pussy? Would that mouth ever suck her running juices as she so desperately needed him to do?
But then she was distracted again, for one of the men who was nursing at Laura's breasts had opened his pants. From within, she extracted his long, thin cock and began masturbating it with slow strokes of his hand. It was uncircumcised, and its red head peeped eagerly through his stretched foreskin with each movement of his hand.
Laura wore a long skirt which buttoned all the way up the front. She leaned forward now, pushing the men's faces out of the way, and began unbuttoning the garment from the bottom.
She did it slowly, spreading her thighs with each newly opened button so that the material stayed stretched between her legs. Her eyes watched the masturbating hand of the one man, and she looked on with pleasure as the second withdrew his own cock, shorter and thicker, and began to beat it off as well. The eyes of the men, in their turn, were upon her elegant legs as they were so fetchingly revealed. Emily found her own tension rising as Laura reached her knees and undid the first button at her thighs. One thigh, the smooth inner side, gleamed palely through the slit of dark material now as Laura opened another button. Emily noticed that the masturbating hands of the two men flew slightly faster as a third was undone, and she wondered eagerly whether they were able to see Laura's sex. Now the skirt sagged open two-thirds of the way up, and Emily could see the spread thigh within. Surely, she thought, surely the men must be able to see it. Another button popped. More thigh, almost high enough, Emily could almost see the last secret. Another. And another. The skirt drew open even more, and suddenly Emily saw the moon glint upon the frothy top of Laura's thick nest of kinky hair. She .wasn't wearing panties! Emily's heart lurched as she realized that the next button would reveal all of that naked, hungry cunt. Laura's fingers closed around the last barricade. She slipped it through. She drew the folds of her skirt away to the sides, and her cunt lay open between her spread thighs. Emily was electrified to see the profile of that rising mound sweep upward out of Laura's belly to be crowned with a thicket of dark, spiky hairs, each of which seemed, alive in the moonlight. And then the cunt descended into the twofold thickness of her beautiful lips.
Laura opened her thighs more and tilted her exposed gash upward into the eager faces of the masturbating men. With one long, curved middle finger, she dipped down along her slit, spreading her heavy, hairy lips, and thrust up into her oozing hole. She withdrew the finger, glistening with pussy juice, and raised it to her mouth to lick the come away.
"I taste wonderful this evening," she sighed. She dipped down for another fingerful of the warm syrup. "Won't you suck on me?"
But it was too much for the first man, and his come began to shoot in high-flying jets from the tip of his thin cock. The come splashed across Laura's thighs and cunt hair and lay quivering in great gobs upon her skin. Her finger eagerly smeared it into her cunt flesh. She drew up one hanging droplet and placed it on the tip of her tongue like a grape.
The second man, however, was still able to control himself, and he bent forward with a groan and fixed his lips to the kiss of Laura's cunt mouth. Laura quickly opened the remainder of her skirt until it collapsed around her naked hips onto the ground. She slipped out of her blouse, and she lay completely exposed upon the rubble of her clothes. She held the man's face tightly against her cunt with both hands, begging him to eat her, and squirmed her hot furrow against his lips. He must have complied as she hoped, for Emily saw her arch slowly into a climax. Her hips lifted completely off the ground, her neck strained, her stomach muscles rippled, and her thighs quivered. No sound escaped from her as she cascaded over the pinnacle of her pleasure.
And Emily felt at that moment that her own lover had finally climbed along the white length of her slim leg all the way up to her yearning pussy. The pressure of his first, long awaited kiss upon her puddling cunt drew her attention back from Laura in her ecstasy to the wonderful events which were occurring at home. His strong hands dragged her panties down her thighs until they stretched across her knees. Her legs were held together by them, and his body was in the way of her efforts to kick them off altogether. Instead, he sank his mouth once again into her fragrant cunt, burrowing down through her hairy covering and into the drenched lips themselves. Oh, how she wanted to open her legs all the way! Her need for his mouth to open her splayed membranes was frantic. But she was unable to manage it. It was driving her mad, this truncated caress. He could brush his tongue-tip across the top of her little clit, but she wanted that tongue fucking into her as well. She wanted his lips to kiss and suck her own lips. She wanted his fingers up inside her cunt hole, smoothing her sopping inner flesh. She wanted-oh, anything! Anything in her cunt. Just anything up inside her hot, hairy, drenching, coming cunt. In a frenzy, she tore her sweater over her head so that her great breasts could wallow free. Her hands clasped them and battered her nipples. She twisted and twined her legs in an effort to open them more, but her panties held her securely tied. God, if she could only get her cunt open to him!
In her writhing, she happened to see that Laura now was on her knees before on of the men. His cock was pointing tall out of his dress trousers, and she was sucking its head with long and slow manipulations of her tongue. One of her hands was elegantly masturbating her wide, hairy cunt, that same cunt which was pointed directly toward Emily's face. Mad with lust, Emily humped over on her back until she could bury her own face between Laura's spread thighs. The woman's cunt over her face almost dripped on her, so wet was it. Emily's ears were in ecstasy over the squishy sounds of Laura's fingers plowing her pussy, and her nostrils, almost in the woman's asshole, were pervaded with the intense odors of this long, hairy crease above her face. Her tongue came out to lick and suck at Laura's masturbating fingers. And finally-finally!-oh God, finally, the lover between her own legs pulled her panties all the way down her legs. Oh, what ecstasy to open her legs as far as they could go! She pulled her knees hack to her .breasts and held them apart with her hands. The warm and humid air flowing suddenly over the drenched flesh of her cunt made her begin to come, and then the hard tongue of the man sliding wetly into her cunt hole and the pressure of his nose against her clit knocked her all the way into her climax.
As she came, she pressed her nose against Laura's stretched asshole and inhaled deeply. The heady scent, mingled with the taste of the cunt juice flooding into her mouth, caused her to come once again just as the first was beginning to fade.
Suddenly, Emily heard a groan and felt the hot splashes of a man's come across her breasts and the backs of her stretched-open thighs. And then immediately there were avid, female lips there to lick up the flooded semen. No sooner had they done that than they pushed the man aside and sank onto Emily's uptilted cunt. Laura's own pussy now banged hard down onto Emily's face. The woman's masturbating fingers were gone, and the job of making her clit shiver was left entirely up to Emily. Emily fell to with a will, feeling Laura's creamy cunt water drenching her cheeks and throat. Her eyes were upon the woman's clenching ass-hole. And then heavy balls swung into vision, and the stiff head of a long cock pressed against the straining asshole above her. She felt Laura nodding and begging against her own cunt at this contact. The man, slid his long erection down across Emily's forehead and into Laura's flared cunt hole. He fucked slowly in and out of her that way for a moment. Emily could feel the pressure of his cock all through the cunt she was sucking. And then he withdrew his dripping prick and pressed it once again against Laura's asshole. Laura was practically screaming into Emily's cunt, her need was so urgent, begging, babbling, insane with lust. Emily's eager eyes watched as the head of that cock slowly parted the puckered lips of Laura's asshole. It seemed impossible that the small hole could stretch so far. But the creamy cock sank without hindrance until the hard rim of its head popped in. The hole hugged tightly against the narrower shaft as, inch by inch, vein by vein, it fucked into the woman. Again, Emily could feel its pressure slide across her own tongue, which was far up inside Laura's cunt hole. And the farther the great cock slid into her lover, the farther Laura's own tongue came out and pressed between Emily's frothy cunt lips.
The cock began to withdraw itself. Out it came, shiny in the moonlight, until only the head remained. And then it began its inward thrust again. It stopped when it was all the way in, its balls bouncing up Emily's forehead. Out it came. In again. The pace was beginning to quicken. Out, and in. Out. In. Out. In. Faster and yet still faster the cock fucked Laura's asshole. The woman's entire body shook with each inward thrust. Her tongue went crazy on Emily's clit, and Emily came for a third time. The cock slammed closer and closer to its own climax. Emily could tell it would be soon. It was nearly a blur now, the balls banging against her head, Laura's voice rising into a wail, the man's hoarse gasps, Laura's cunt jerking spasmodically against her mouth, the man's gasps rising to a roar, a roar ... and then he slammed for a last hard time and erupted into her asshole. Emily felt the force of his jets against her tongue. He pumped a few more excruciating slow pumps, and the backwash of his come began to ooze out of the plugged hole around his shaft. The white, foamy juice rolled down Laura's ass crease into Emily's eyes, coating her nose and forehead as it changed the taste of Laura's climaxing cunt.
Later, she didn't know when, Emily realized that she was lying on the ground masturbating. All three men were now standing around her, naked, towering and muscular, watching her make love to herself. She was exciting them terrifically with her beating off, and herself as well. She loved the feel of that yearning pussy which wanted to be rubbed and rubbed. She adored the rapt look on her audience's faces as they stroked their own surging big cocks in time with her fingers in her cunt. And then Laura's lips were sucking on those very fingers, tasting her juices on them, and rubbing their way into her hairy crotch. Laura's ass swayed in the air, and one man knelt behind her and slipped his cock into the tilted cunt mouth between her pretty thighs. Emily knew when the man sank his prick in, for Laura's breath emptied into her gaping pussy as he did so. Emily took one hand away from masturbating and used it to lift one of her hard nipples to her mouth. She sucked and nibbled on the nipple as her fingers darted across her clit. One of the men came, and his streams splashed across Laura's face and the hand Emily was using to masturbate. The other man knelt across her chest and lifted her tits on either side of his red cock. He beat himself off with the smooth sides of her tits while watching her smiling eyes all upon him. His cock felt like a hot poker between her luscious breasts. Emily swung her hips and cunt against Laura's wonderful tongue as the man grew close to coming. Emily watched his eyes turn inward and slowly close as he plied her breast flesh more quickly against himself. And then the last man locked his mouth onto her open armpit, sucking her sweat, softly chewing on her sensitive flesh. The sensation from her armpit leapt to her clit, where Laura licked it into another orgasm. And just then the man between her tits came, bathing her throat and chin with his thick semen.
Still later, her last memory of the occasion, Emily discovered that she was lying face downward with her ass raised and her thighs widely spread. Someone-she fancied it was Laura as she could feel breast tips against the backs of her thighs-was siding her tongue in and out of her asshole, and she herself was unctuously blowing the man who had kidnapped her in the first place. The other two men were not to be seen. Perhaps they had had enough. Or they might be doing wonderful and erotic things to Laura's body behind her. As her mind slowly rolled among the images of what they might be doing, the cock in her mouth began to spurt its last, straining jets of seed.
"Put something in my cunt! Put something in my cunt!" she begged around the jerking prick.
She felt the sudden thrust of Laura's long fingers splitting her sex, and, of course, she came.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The short mountain night was drawing to a close as Emily finally left the greenhouse. Already a glowing false dawn could be seen climbing up behind the peak. She was no longer stoned. All those orgasms back there had drained away her intoxication and left her feeling tired. It was, though, a contented sort of tiredness. She walked arm-in-arm with her original captor, her head resting lightly against the shoulder of his jacket. Laura trooped along a step or two behind. The other men had left long before. None of them had much of anything to say. Instead, Emily simply felt the calm of her final sexual completion still within herself. It hadn't been exactly what she expected for this evening, but it had been precisely what she wanted nevertheless. And there did remain the possibility that she had been wrong all along about what went on down in the basement.
They turned into the house. All was quiet; the music had finished for the evening. On the first-floor landing, the man gave Emily a light and affectionate kiss. Laura also greeted her with a hug and a kiss, and then she was left to climb by herself to her own safe place. Through the familiar landings and corridors she climbed. Grinning a little, she opened her door. The last of the setting moon shone through her windows and made the room milky. It was the coldest time of the night, but she knew she would be warm in bed. She left the windows open, climbed out of the clothes she had only put on a few minutes ago, and slipped between the sheets. It was only then, with a shock, that she realized she was no longer alone.
A warm body nestled in the middle of the bed, and she was about to escape in an outrage when sleepy hands reached out and brushed against her rigid shoulders. A voice mumbled something. "Is it you, Karen?" she dared.
"Mmmm." Karen snuggled closer, and Emily drew her warm head down onto the pillow of her breasts.
"You startled me," Emily said, feeling her exasperation diminish as two warm, little fists curled into the hollow of her neck. "Where have you been?" Karen's voice was blurry with sleep, and she was gone again before Emily could begin to answer.
Emily lay awake for several minutes, smoothing the sleeping girl's hair, and looking at the canopy over their heads. Only two days ago she had been with Arthur. She hadn't even known this girl!
And then she slept.
She awoke, descended, and ate. She arose again, and slept.
She awoke. It was night. She did not know the time. Through her open windows blew a steady, heady breeze. The temperature had dropped. She felt magnificent; utterly rested. She stretched round arms, yawned, slid from beneath her covering. She stood as nude and lovely as can be imagined before the soft wash of the hidden moon. Tonight was the night. She anticipated the moment. Tonight she would take herself to herself and come away owning the whole of herself. Tonight would be the beginning of a new ethos.
There was the music, of course. She knew there would be. It came to her this third time, and now she was prepared for it. She slid a filmy nightgown over her form and walked down into the dark.
One step, two. It was as simple as that. Put one foot before the other, and you will arrive.
One flight, two. The cellar door. A beautiful sound, those two words: cellar door. Steps downward and the red corridor. The music gathering her closer into its embrace. The second corridor: her own form in the mirrored walls. Pretty Emily in a blue nightgown, Emily's pretty body intensified by the blue shimmer about her. The final barrier. Curtains to part silently. Curtains to slip through. And she was there.
A great brocaded and sumptuous chamber through which the music flowed from loudspeakers. Lighting directed to a raised platform, and stage, upon which a single female dancer made her limbs float in time with the sounds. Subdued chatter of those looking on. The small clink of a glass now and again. Elegantly dressed man and woman in stately motion about the couches. Dim lighting, if at all, in the majority of the chamber. Shadows along the walls.
No one had seen her.
She slipped sideways, into the shadow, skirting the room until, she hovered in the dimness at the rear of the hall. A railing at the height of her belly gave her a convenient leaning point. Her eyes were alive with excitement. The tension was there, in the chamber. She could feel it. She knew what was going to happen. Everyone else did as well. They were settling into couches, placing their drinks, resting their feet. Sweet marijuana began to tickle the air. The lights grew dimmer, drawing the eyes toward the stage. And the dancer-she had known this would be so-was Karen. Little Karen with her slim hips, swaying beautifully, wearing dark tights and a tunic.
The music was slow, accentuated with flutes, and Karen was a cobra mesmerized by it. She swayed from the toes, her entire body alive to the sound. She seemed to grow taller from the stage, rising into the light as the music rose in intensity. And at the top of her preening, yearning dance, her fingers met for a moment behind her neck. Her tunic dropped from its clasp to reveal, in a flash, Karen's nakedness. The tights were not tights, they were high stockings supported by a pink and black garterbelt. All else was as God had made it. Karen's hands now rose above her head, and her feet left their stationary positions. The girl began to curl and wind her way about the stage, every muscle out-lined by the lights. Her body glimmered as though it had been oiled. The dance was not particularly sexual, save for the erotic framing of her slim ass and her auburn sex by the straps of her garterbelt. She seemed much more naked because of them than she would have done had she been entirely nude. And she held the eyes of everyone in the room, including Emily's secret ones. Her loveliness was unsurpassed by anything Emily could recall, her sensuousness, her litheness. It seemed almost luminous, her body was so alive.
But yet the dance grew more passionate as the music swelled to new intensities. Now that tiny girl was flinging herself about the stage with such controlled abandon that Emily's heart stilled in her breast. More and more of the grit of life, the anguish and the travail, were apparent in her savage forms. Before, her dance had been nearly imbecilic. None of that saccharine was left now. Just the raw frenzy of humanity, the awesome ponderousness of it all.
For still there was the maddening semi-sexuality of the costume that she wore. She couldn't get away from that. No matter how her body strove away from sex toward the peace of neutrality, it was always there, always accentuated, always leading the eyes back to that rich, red womanhood she carried between her legs. She would never escape it, try as she might. She leapt, she twined, she pirouetted. She flailed herself to elude the sex she carried. But she was not a sprite. She was a woman, pinned and anchored by her womanhood.
And as she seemed to accept this utter fact, as her desire to be bodiless seemed to drain away, she appeared to curl in upon herself. It was as though she would swallow her own sexuality, take it into herself so deeply that she would reach her goal by going through it. No more did she try to deny her sex. instead, she flaunted it at herself. If she could not escape it, then she would become it, completely. Glistening in the light before her rapt audience, she did sex to herself. With hands, and arms, and fingers, and mouth, and hair, she gathered her sex together, she offered it to herself and to the silent crowd. She became sex.
She was magnificent. That slim, fragile body took all of sex and transformed itself, for a moment-for just one, flickering moment as Emily gazed in wonder-into a goddess.
But holiness cannot reign for long on earth. Such a transmutation was destined to fade. For that one, shimmering instant, it lasted, and then there arose around it a very storm, a typhoon of eroticism, and it was drowned out. Instead of a goddess, Karen was a sweaty woman, her hair wet with exertion, standing rippling on the very edge of the stage and masturbating her cunt at the people.
Dazed, Emily looked around. She saw Adrian upon one couch beside a stunning woman in a long, sheath-like dress of green satin. Their four eyes were riveted on Karen's wild form. The woman's right hand, armed with long, red fingernails, slowly massaged the plump spot on her gown which covered her own cunt. Adrian, too, was absorbed. His grand cock stood out in a quivering erection from the open fly of his trousers, and his hand gathered saliva at his mouth so that it might slip smoothly up and down upon it.
Everyone was present! Emily had not noticed before, but all her new friends were around her. Angela, for example, wearing only a pink bra across her blond breasts, knelt beside her husband and masturbated him while he slowly undressed a plump young woman in white. When he had bared her cone-like breasts, his wife departed from him and fixed her mouth to one tightening nipple. Her hands dropped to her cunt, and she slipped a finger deeply inside herself. The woman in her turn began kissing Larry all over his face while he did his best to work her skirt down over her ample hips. Her wonderful, big thighs came slowly into view, framing a dark pussy which was unencumbered by panties. And he broke, away from her kisses to plant ones of his own upon her hairy mound. She reclined back in utter contentment and watched Karen's flashing hands.
And there was Laura, with, as Emily had come to expect, a joint between her fingers. She wore nothing whatsoever. The man who had kidnapped Emily last night, likewise naked, stood before her with his hands on his hips. His cock, that long thing Emily remembered so well, was being held lightly in Laura's hand and licked like a lollipop. Laura's tongue slid fatly up its underside and then made a circuit of the head. Her fingers, so lightly clasping the shaft, masturbated him slowly. She dipped her tongue-tip into the straining eye which stared at her, and then she licked down again to his thick hair. She took a moment to puff on her joint before she began the caress once again.
Her attention returned to Karen. It seemed to Emily that Karen must know that she was being watched from the back of the auditorium by Emily. The girl's eyes, when they weren't squeezed shut in ecstasy, sought through the shadows until they rested on Emily. How Karen had felt that she was here Emily could not have said, but she knew that Karen was making such a stimulating show of her own autoeroticism expressly for Emily's benefit.
And it was an exciting show. Karen's tanned body was shiny with a sheen of sweat. Those lights must be quite hot. Looking carefully, Emily could see droplets of perspiration run down Karen's chest, between her flat breasts, and across her heaving belly. The girl was making use of this slipperiness in order to skim her palms across all of her lovely flesh. Her hands twinkled over her breasts and her hard nipples. They slid down her sides until they encountered the tops of her high stockings upon her brown thighs. She turned and allowed the audience to watch her smooth them up and outward across her ass, spreading the cheeks and exposing her dark and hairy crease to their eager eyes. She began at her armpits and smoothed her sweat out across her champagne glass tits, making them gleam even more. And then her hands traveled downward to where they had been before. They slid under the band of her garterbelt, so that the black and pink strap lay tightly across her wrists as her fingers sought out the long, wet lips of her pussy underneath her thick cunt hair. Already the lips were visible through her thatch, but now she opened them for the pleasure of the watchers-and for Emily-and humped her hips slowly forward. Her cunt seemed to gape at those around her. Her fingers slid down into that red slit and played with the moisture there.
Emily's own fingers had lifted the hem of her gown and were pressed into her wet cunt. Her eyes and Karen's were locked, and their four hands made the same motions upon their clits. It was a marvelous way of fucking her friend. She had only to caress her clit in a circle with the tip of one dripping finger to see Karen perform the same action. If she wanted to sink a finger up into Karen's hole, she had only to do the same upon herself.
And now, apparently, Karen wanted her to come, for the girl proceeded with her own ecstasy. Karen's fingers all began to beat a faster tattoo on her clit until she was forced to straddle her legs even more to keep from falling. Her eyes were beginning to grow dim and close in upon herself. And at the same time, Emily felt Karen's fingers-no, hers-beating the same frantic measure against her own clit. Yes, it was beginning now. Yes, she could see the flush creeping up across Karen's neck and breasts. Yes, the girl was making Emily come. Yes, her fingers were flying on Emily's cunt. Yes, it was growing closer. Oh, yes, here it comes! Yes, oh my God yes, it's coming! It's coming! It's-oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!-oh Jesus God, oh my God, it's coming! It's coming! It's coming! IT'S COME!
And through vision blurred red at the edges, through eyes almost shut with the weight of her orgasm, Emily saw Adrian stand tall, naked, and erect. He walked to the stage and climbed upon it. The climaxing girl there he bent down onto her knees. He turned her away from him, sideways to the audience, and knelt behind her. He lowered his face into the cleavage of her up thrust ass, and his long tongue came out and lapped at her still-coming cunt. Her eyes and face were ravaged with lust, and her breath hissed as she felt the smooth contact of his tongue on her inflamed inner flesh. And then he raised himself again and, with one long, slow motion, sank the endless inches of his rigid cock into her stretched cunt.
"OH MY GOD! OH SHIT! OH, FUCK ME! YES, FUCK ME!" And Karen's voice rose in a moan, a scream, a wail, until it could not be heard any longer. With complete absorption, hands clutching her slender hips and eyes staring down at her asshole and the sight of his cock churning in and out of her, Adrian began to fuck her in earnest. His muscles rippled and tensed as he ground himself ever deeper into her crazed cunt.
Emily, stunned from her first orgasm and yet already yearning for another, looked around the room. Clothing was everywhere. Almost everyone was nude, but there were some who had not troubled, or had not had time, to undress. The woman in green still beat herself off fully clothed. Her dress had been pulled up just above the rim of scarlet panties, and her hands were both sunk underneath that covering. Her legs, elegant and long, twitched with each motion on her eager clit. Her eyes were closed. She was completely self-contained. Gripped by the sight, Emily wondered what images her mind was rolling among, and her own hand, in sympathy, returned to her ready pussy. Angela, still wearing her bra, was tangled in a sixty-nine position with the dark-haired woman Larry had undressed. The two woman were writhing in their frenzy, and Larry, watching, was masturbating his long prick at such a sight. The plump woman, who was on top, began to come, and her face arched back as she ground her climaxing cunt into Angela's blond face. Larry took the opportunity to shove his quivering cock between her lips. He continued to masturbate while she sucked avidly on the head of his cock. And then he too began to come. He pulled his cock back a little so he could milk the long streamers into her face and mouth. Covered with his syrupy come, the woman flung her face anxiously back between Angela's clamping and desperate thighs and pressed her mouth down onto the upturned pussy there. Larry, still enflamed, switched ends and lowered his face next to his wife's. He slid his tongue out and into the woman's asshole. The sight was enough to make Angela begin her own orgasm.
Watching Angela shudder into a come was joy to Emily's eyes, and her hands beat more furiously at her pussy. Laura, too, was not losing time. She was sitting in the lap of the kidnapper with his long pole of a cock up inside her swimming cunt. She was facing the stage, watching her husband fuck Karen, and masturbating her clit at the same time. The man who was fucking her had one finger buried in her asshole while he pumped up and down inside her. Emily felt that she was beginning to come again, and she looked back at the stage.
Adrian, she could tell, was near coming himself. Karen looked as though she was. One arm was up underneath her, clutching at her cunt and feeling Adrian's powerful, slippery cock as it rode in and out between her wet lips. Each of his downward thrusts pressed her face and chest down into the stage. One bent arm supported her head, and she was beating her forehead frantically against it as she urged Adrian on faster.
But then she pulled her hand away from her clit, and raised herself on straightened arms, and looked wildly back over her shoulder into Adrian's glazed eyes. "Adrian!"
Adrian seemed to come back from a long way away. "Yes? What?"
"In my ass. I want to come with you in my ass!
"Okay, lady," he grinned, and withdrew his stiff prick. It sprang up to attention when he pulled it out, all wet and shiny in the lights, red and flickering. He lowered his face into Karen's widely splayed cheeks. His tongue began fucking her maddeningly in the ass, tasting her, moistening her, driving her to distraction. Her hair was flying as she swung her head frantically around.
"Come on! Oh, please! Fuck my ass! I'm going to come soon. Oh, fuck it!"
Adrian chuckled a little, licked one last time at the tasty, sweaty ass crease, and placed the tip of his cock against the dark hole. Karen groaned as she felt the organ begin to slide down into her-and at that very moment a pair of hands closed around Emily's body and cupped her tormented breasts.
The shock was like electricity. Emily nearly screamed. Her body went rigid. She felt the back of her nightgown lifted, and before she could even think, a great, wide cock slid between her cheeks and into her wet pussy like a hot poker.
The man was naked, she could feel, and he had a hard, pulsating erection. His hands held her tits firmly as he began fucking at her like a bull. He slammed himself into her without uttering a word. Only his hoarse breathing came to her ears as she stared at her friend on the stage. Karen's entire body was tensed as Adrian's long cock flowed into her. Her face was a rictus of agony and ecstasy. The cock seemed never to stop, just to keep on flowing into her bowels like a machine. And Emily's own fucker was quivering into her more and more quickly. God! She hadn't had a cock up her cunt in days. It was so hot! So slippery! So stiff!
Adrian began to withdraw his prick from Karen's hot asshole, and then he surged into her again. She was lying practically flat on the stage now, only her hips lifted to give Adrian access to her rear hole. Her slim thighs were widely spread. Adrian supported his weight upon his fists beside her armpits. His great, muscular form hung over Karen's svelte body, and he fucked at her with his hips. Each long, inward, surge was borne into her by the pressure of his entire strength. It was a slow and complete fucking: Adrian, like some vast sweating animal, overpowering the girl.
And then the man behind Emily began to come. Emily could feel his tempo change. He was lashing at her now as though he would never stop. Had the entire world come to an end just then, she knew, he would continue to fuck until the sperm lept boiling into her clinging vagina. She kept her eyes on the subjugation of Karen as her stud began a low moaning which swept very quickly into a bellow of completion. He roared as his come began to spurt into her very depths. It sprayed her so hard and so hot that she felt each jet bathe her shuddering cunt-walls. And it drove her to the edge of another orgasm.
Adrian began to fuck more quickly into Karen. He was nearly bouncing on her ass now, and she was screaming and flailing her arms helplessly around her flinging hair. He would come soon, shoot his hot sperm deep into her ass, and Emily knew she would come with him. But the man behind her withdrew his softening cock then.. He sank to his knees and turned her so that she faced him. His mouth closed on her hairy cunt. "No!" She cried. "No, I want to see! I want to see!" But he continued to suck her, pulling the great, hot gobs of his come from her flooded cunt hole and swallowing them, mixing the fragrant juice with her own creamy cunt water. Emily strained her body around until she could see the fucking on stage. Her hands closed upon the man's hairy head and pulled him as hard as she could into her cunt. His mouth was hard against her swollen clit, and she began to come immediately. On stage, she watched Adrian lunge forward one last time and fire his great load of jism into her friend. One of Karen's hands clutched frantically onto her cunt, and she began to buck wildly as she felt the hard pulses of fiery come jetting into her. And Emily too. Emily tumbled up, up, up, and over, coming, coming, coming, clenched and coming, coming....
EPILOGUE My voice dropped finally into silence.
Sounds of the river rushing past. The night was still, damp and cold in our gorge, and quite clear. Orion hung over us in the sky, his belt a-glimmer with jewels. The fire had become a bed of coals covered by white ash.
I was quite warm inside my bag. I sat still, hulking dark in the night, cross-legged. My erection was clasped lightly in my hand, and I masturbated ever so slowly. I had prolonged and prolonged my inevitable orgasm, drawing back each time the glory had been about to come. Perhaps it was imagination, hut I felt as though this erection had been growing steadily larger for the last hours. I could feel the broad, flat hotness of its bead as it curled back against my stomach. I had never felt it this long, and its very size excited me. Indeed, it was so huge and so nearly numb with the constant, tantalizing friction on it that it seemed not to belong to me at all. It rose from my loins, yes, but it was bent upon its own ecstasy. It was only by chance that this rising column of flesh was to be found between my legs. It cared nothing for me, was ignorant of me, disdained to become mine. It sought only its own fulfillment.
And what of Tony and Carla? The liquid sounds from within their bag had stimulated me during the telling of my tale, but as the light grew dimmer and redder it had been less easy to tell just what was going on amongst the feathers. Once, Carla had given tongue to an eerie, long wail, but that time had long passed. For long minutes, no sound had come from them. I knew they were listening still, for there was a sense of urgency between the three of us, but I had painted the picture of that last, climactic evening of Emily's, word by word, without their assistance.
And now silence. All was silence. Arthur?
"Yes, Carla?"
"Come here."
"All right."
"Now, Arthur."
I rose from my bag and stood naked in the cold night. I did not feel the cold. Blood skimmed just beneath my skin. I felt tall. I might, for the urging, reach up an arm to Orion's belt and clasp it again around my own waist. My sword stood tall and stiffly swayed.
A warm hand came unerringly from the huddle of darkness and closed softly around my hot sex. "There it is," sighed a low voice.
"What will you do with it?" came Tony's quiet voice.
"I just want it."
I stepped closer to their bodies. I felt dim hair against my thighs, and then a warm mouth slid wetly down over me. Time and all motion stopped. The mouth, so very wet, was still. Her soft breath bathed my belly. I stared at the stars around my head.
And then a velvet tongue began to slip in tiny circles along the underside of my sex. I realized, too, that Tony's head was pressed against my belly. He was slowly kissing his wife's closed eyes, licking along the edge of her scalp, bathing her nose and nostrils with his tongue. Carla must be straddling him, in his lap. His own cock, lovely and long, must be impaled up in her, must be soaking at this very instant in her warm syrup. Before my eyes rose an imaginative picture of the bottom of Carla's body: the smooth union of their two organs, Carla's cunt folded around Tony like a flower. With my entire being, I longed to slip my face below the pear of Carla's ass and place my lips on the magic. I could almost taste and feel the sensation now, so badly did I long for it. I wanted to feel the stiff way that Tony entered his warm wife. I wanted to lick the place where hard became soft. I wanted to drink the secretions which oiled the spot. I wanted their hair to twine together and be scratchy on my tongue.
Now Carla withdrew her mouth from my hard cock. Her breath was coming quickly. Her face was eager and pale in the starlight. "Can you come now, Tony? I want you to come. Oh, please! Shoot that hot stuff into me. I'm going to come, Tony. I'm so close!"
"Yes, my love. Yes. Oh, yes."
Carla began a faster action with her body, slipping up and down on the impaling prick with in her folds. Their mouths met in a long kiss. "Their arms tightened around each other's shoulders. Carla began to pant with her exertions and the nearness of her orgasm. I slid my cock, still wet from Carla's kisses, between their faces and felt their two foreheads and four eyes battering against it. Carla took one hand off Tony's shoulder and slid it down her front to her clit. I felt her inhalation as her fingertips found the little erection and began to massage its swollen head. Then their mouths met across my cock, four lips caressing me and each other.
"Oh! Carla, I'm going to come. I'm going to come soon. I'm going to!"
Tony broke the kiss. He leaned back on his arms, his face raised to the sky, and began to buck hard into his wife's enfolding. cunt. Carla, too, had thrown her face back. The fingers beating on her clit flew desperately. Her wonderful breasts with their tight tips bounced upon the starlight. One hand still clenched Tony's shoulder, and she slung her hips up and down on him, forcing his cock always deeper between her split lips.
Her voice was tattered, breathless. "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck me! Yes, Tony. Tony, come. Come, Tony. Come. Oh, come. Oh, come. Oh, oh, oh, oh! I'm going to come right with you. Yes! Yes!
Now you're coming! You're comin' in me! And I'm ... I was forgotten. The lovers battered out their orgasms while I stood tall above them, my eyes locked on Carla's starlit body.
As they finally relaxed, Tony and Carla slumped into a mushy heap. A miasma of sex and come swept up out of their sleeping bag. I almost came simply from inhaling it. Instead, I dove into the bag, nearly ripping it in my frenzy to get my mouth on Carla. Neither of them seemed to know exactly what was happening. I untangled Carla's flaccid, damp limbs. She lay then outside the bag, used and finished. I suppose that the throes of her orgasm were still murmuring to her. Indeed, she still moaned softly. And come seeped from her loose cunt like honey from a cracked urn.
Tony seemed dazed as well. He was still partly inside the bag. He lay on one side, his head hanging in an awkward way. Save for the fact that he had just celebrated a monumental orgasm, I knew he could not have been comfortable in such a position. But my attention was not fully upon him. Carla, of the Mediterranean skin and the almond breasts. She lay before me now, all shimmering in the starlight.
I was in a strange state. My own excitement, unfulfilled, was nearly forgotten. A perpetual erection rose from my sweaty loins. It would never go away. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, it would be there still. I knelt slowly between Carla's tumbled legs, Starlight revealed little. Her body was dark, mysterious, full of shadowy hollows. But her shiny lips themselves were laid naked of their cushiony hair. Their juices had matted her fur away from that mouth, and I watched as an ooze of come welled between her lips and bled slowly away. As a worshipper, I bent forward and pressed my own lips softly to hers. The sharp scent of their mingled come pierced my brain, and I almost swooned.
I kissed her again, feeling the smear of gluey fluids against my own lips. I extended my tongue and parted her puffed lips with it. Another welt of Tony's come washed down her cunt hole and slid into my mouth. I could taste her as well, mingled with his hot, thick semen. I pressed forward. My nose clove her. Juices gummed across my cheeks and smeared my eyelids. Slowly, I turned my face inside her, back and forth. I washed myself in her nectar.
During all this, both Carla and Tony had been still. It had been my own long moment. But now she whimpered. I had brushed her clit with my nose just then, and the little nubbin was too tender to be touched. Quickly, I bent my face farther down, but the time had passed. Her gentle fingers drew me up. "No, friend. Not my cunt. I'm too tired."
But I surprised her. As she drew my face down to her own, I sank into her like a hot knife into butter. Her lips drew back from her teeth in a silent snarl. Her eyes clamped shut. And as the head of my engorged cock bumped up against the mouth of her womb a vast exhalation was forced from her. "Oh, Jesus God," she groaned.
And then there was Tony beside us. "Fuck him, darling," he urged her. "Fuck Arthur."
Her eyes fluttered open, and their gazes met. "Yes, darling. Yes, Tony, my love."
Her arms closed around my shoulder. Her thighs lifted and fitted themselves to my waist. I felt her heels begin to drum against my buttocks as she commenced to sling her cunt up at me. She rode up and down the long cock within her, and her eyes never left her husband's. She made no sound except small, tight gasps at each drawn breath.
But it was no good. She hurt. She stopped. "I'm sorry," she apologized, as much to Tony as to me. "I'm just too sore."
On my knees, I pulled myself agonizingly from her cunt. I was speechless, poleaxed with lust. Now that great, anonymous cock before me had taken all of myself into it. I was nothing. I was a cock, is all. I knew nothing save the need to make myself one with Carla.
"What can I do for you?" she pleaded, on her knees and with her breasts pressed against my chest.
But I could not answer. My mind would riot frame a reply. My hands clutched spasmodically at her haunches. My cock weighed hard against her warm belly, rising nearly to her hanging breasts.
"Blow him," suggested Tony. "Drink his come."
My goddess sank readily to her task. Her mouth was wide, her saliva warm. She held the base of my cock and bobbed her head over it. And then her lips were a tight ring running up and down its rigid length. Her tongue was a warm vibration against the underside of my head. A hand cupped my balls and milked them as her mouth hurried up and down.
My staring eyes saw that Tony now knelt against his wife. His limp cock was swelling in his hand. He crooned a constant tune of lust while he kneaded Carla's exquisite, swaying tits. His face was drained of all expression. His cock had grown to its full size, and she pressed its hot tip against her cheeks and stretched lips as he beat himself off.
I began to come. At last, after all those hours. I felt the sensation gathering all the way at the top of my back. I felt the muscles tightening all along my spine. The blast poured down my back.
"He's going to come now, darling. He's going to shoot that hot come right down your throat. And I'm coming too! I'm coming, Carla. Oh, Carla, here it comes!"
With those words, the sperm flung itself with a squirt from the end of his cock and splashed across her cheeks and filled her pretty eyes. And at the same moment, feeling and seeing his hot splashes, I felt the gathering forces whip around under my ass and come blasting up out of the thick erection which sank so very deep in Carla's accommodating mouth. I pumped hard into her throat, buffetting her face with my pelvis.
And Carla took her hand from my balls and plunged it into the thick sporran between her thighs. Down into her reignited cunt. And, knowing just what to do, she made herself come as she milked the last jets of semen from my cock. Her face smeared with our mixed juices, she collapsed backwards into a moaning fetal ball, her hands grinding her cunt, her orgasm rocketing her into another, and another again, until it was impossible to tell when one stopped and the next began.
It was awe-inspiring. Tony and I, draped and spent, watched her quivering form in the starlight.
"Honey?" he called. "Baby, are you all right?"
Her shivering came finally to an end. There was no sound. Neither was there any movement.
"Honey?"
As one would a holy thing, he touched her. "Sweetie?"
"Is she okay?" I managed to ask. My thighs were threatening to give out I slumped onto the cold sand.
"Yes," his voice was very quiet. "She's passed out. It takes her this way sometimes, when she can't stop coming."
We were both silent. Time passed.
"Perhaps we should cover her," I suggested.
"Yes. Yes, let's."
We rolled her into a sleeping bag. She murmured, but she did not wake.
I was cold now, and hungry. I pulled on a thick sweater and my damp jeans. I shoved my feet into the cold interiors of my boots. Feeling big, rumbly and grumbly, barefooted, I rummaged through my pack until I found an orange.
Tony had also dressed, and we sat on boulders beside the river. Neither of us was sleepy.
"That's some story," he said. He was fiddling with his pipe.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Funny thing is that most of it s true."
"All that really happened?"
"Most of it, yup. I claim a little of the license of the mythmaker, but...." I threw some of the orange peel blindly into the river. Ecologically speaking, not a sound move, but there it was.
"Jesus."
"As you say, sir, Jesus."
"And then what happened?"
"Well, Emily stayed up there for about six weeks."
"Did you ever go there?"
"No. Want some of this orange? No'?-No I never did. It was her place, you know. Her turf.
Some moments were spent in silence. Tony got his pipe going. He put his equipment away and puffed contentedly. "You know," he mused, "as you were describing yourself there, it seemed like you were the one who needed the access to lust."
"I sure did. But Emily was the key. When she came back down off the mountain, she worked me over for three months until I found a way to get through my old fear of the body."
"What about Karen?"
"Karen moved in pretty soon before we met you. She's been with us about a year."
"How's that working out?"
"Pretty well, I suppose. I don't think she'll be around much longer. She's the kind of person who needs something new all the time. It's like she finds these broken-winged people, like Emily, and fixes them up. But she has to get along then when they begin to have the strength to support themselves."
More silence.
"Sure you won't have any orange? Last piece."
"Well, okay."
I handed it to him.
"Nice night."
"Yup."
"Think we ought to climb tomorrow, or stay here?"
"Let's just see how we feel. We've got another five days."
"Time enough."
"Time enough."
More silence still. I was beginning to grow drowsy.
"I wonder about Carla and me," he mused.
"Wonder what?"
"Well, about lust."
"I wouldn't take this too seriously, if I were you.
"It's helped you."
"Sure. but then so has cooking together, keeping fish, getting into politics."
"They aren't on the same level."
"No, you're right. They aren't."
"Well, I wonder, is all."
"You've got to keep a marriage fresh, but this is playing with fire. It nearly did us in, and I suppose that it may yet."
"But you live such a full life!"
"It reads, Tony, better than it lives."
"Easier to say when you're living it."
"Admittedly."
"I wonder how you start. Where is this place you were talking about?"
"No good, man. You have to find your own place. Like tonight. This is as good a time as any. We've got five more days. Let's see what happens."
"Tonight?"
"Sure. Tonight will be fine. But do you dare let it continue? We could stop it right now, think of it as a momentary aberration. We were under the influence of the stars, or some such. Are you willing to cut yourself away from one of your stronger anchors and let lust take over? You never know what might happen. I'll tell you right now that I'm in love with your wife."
"I know."
"But then you love Emily, don't you?"
I heard him smile as he replied, "It had crossed my mind, yes."
"Well, we can leave it like this, store it in the memory and use it to dream about, or else we can give way and see where it is going to take us."
"It's frightening."
"You're goddamned right it's frightening."
"I'm not certain I want it."
"Well, I was certain I didn't want it. But then Emily showed me the error of my ways."
"Are you happier now?"
"Hard to say."
The river continued to rush, and the stars continued to flicker. We spoke for a few minutes more, and, as you might expect, we didn't decide anything. Tonight had been fine, but we'd just have to see what tomorrow brought. And there was time enough for that tomorrow.
