| Hunger, Chapter 4 Rebecca's pussy was throbbing but not with need. In fact it was a bit sore. She shivered and realized that she was about to slide off the bed. A moment or two after her tutor left her feet had slipped off and now dangled over the side. Her butt was so close to the edge that the balance was precarious. It was that sensation—of starting to fall—that made the powerful instinct for self-preservation kick in. Pushing with her hands and wiggling her shoulders she was able to get most of her body back on to the rumpled bedspread. The effort was a 'buzz kill'. She'd been happily sailing through paradise; being forced to come back prematurely was unfair. She put her hand on her girlhood which still felt very hot and swollen. 'I wonder if—' she slipped her fingers between her plump lips and felt for the body part she'd only learn of minutes ago. There was slippery juice everywhere, but inside, past the narrow opening it was a pool. She had no trouble locating the secret spot. Thanks to Jodie's equipment it was still much bigger than normal. As soon as her finger made contact her legs snapped together and drew up toward her chest. She moaned as she rolled onto her side and into the fetal position but her index finger remained between her thick outer lips. The sensations were confusing. There was a strong undercurrent of pleasure but on top of that was discomfort—almost pain. Movement beside the bed caught her attention. She turned her head and felt a pinch between her legs watching Jodie's pendulously hanging breasts as she stepped into her thong. Her mind was not clear enough to register the significance of the action. The Call Girl had packed up her suction toy case and returned it to her shoulder bag, but decided to get dressed before calling in 'all clear'. After washing her toys she'd used the bidet to rinse away the evidence of her arousal. Giving the teenager an anatomy lesson had brought her to a pretty high level and sucking the hyper-engorged teenaged clit at the end was exhilarating, but it was just the job. If she got her cookies it was a bonus. Still, it would have been so easy to just slide her bum back a little bit and let the jet from the bidet get her off. She'd resisted the temptation. She rarely masturbated except as a command performance. The mesh of the lace bra cups pushing her still semi erect nipples in gave her a twinge which she ignored. She picked up her dress and held it out at arms length; turning it to check for stains. 'Slightly rumpled but passable, ' she decided. 'I probably won't have it on that long anyway.' "What are you doing?" the sound of the teen's voice reminded her that she was still with a client. "I'm getting ready to go," Jodie stated, what she thought should be obvious, flatly. "But ... but we're not finished," Rebecca protested. Following the adage—'the customer is always right'—the underwear clad Call Girl sat down on the edge of the bed. "But honey you wanted to find out how to make yourself cum, and now you know. Your little clitty had quite a work out just now and I don't think she'll be ready for anymore action tonight." "That was only half of it," Becky protested. Jodie was thinking back to the introductory conversation but didn't recall any other requirements. Becky saw the puzzled look on the sex trade worker's face. "I wanted to find out if I'm a lesbian." "You mean whether you enjoy having sex with other girls? I think we've established that," Jodie said with a chuckle before adding, "But that doesn't make you a lesbian." "Well then what does?" the teen challenged and twisted herself into a seated position near the headboard again. The little sundress dropped back down from being scrunched up around her ribs. It looked somewhat the worse for wear. The Call Girl was speechless. She really wasn't used to philosophical conversations on sexual orientation. Her adult clients, usually, had figured out where they stood. But then, every once in a while, there'd be a convention in town and she'd get calls for older women who had secretly fantasized about making out with another woman, but had never plucked up the courage or found the right opportunity. A brief three or four day visit to 'Sin City', alone with their sexual appetites, often aided and abetted by intoxicants, the urge to experiment came to fruition. Almost all of them were married with kids; relying on the axiom: 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' Jodie had wondered if any of those torrid sessions had resulted in a door opening. She was convinced that the curious women would never be quite the same in any case. Now in pondering the thirteen year old's search for her sexual identity a sad thought occurred to her. 'Those women were mostly middle aged. They'd lived half their lives not really knowing ... suppose—isn't it better to find out early.' She looked into young Rebecca Winston's eyes and saw herself. Becky waited patiently for an answer. The beautiful and very young looking woman who'd just acquainted her with her female parts was obviously thinking; not taking her question lightly. She was thrilled that she might finally get an answer. Jodie sat on the bed; sliding up beside the girl, she put her arm around the heiress's shoulder. "Honey lots of people never figure out their sexuality. It's sad because they miss out on so much but you're too young to try to define and confine yourself. That's what attaching names like lesbian does. It makes you think of yourself in a certain way and then you may close the door to other opportunities." Jodie stroked the youngster's hair as she spoke with her face very close to the teen's ear. She was thinking again about the conventioneers who'd allowed themselves to be molded by societies conventions; heterosexual, get married, two point five kids, a house, a mortgage, a dog—the definition of happiness—brainwashed more like! "You need to give yourself time to experience and explore. Don't hang labels on yourself, and above all, don't let anybody else do it to you," she panted a kiss on the side of the girl's head inhaling the soapy freshness and felt her quim quiver. She realized that her left breast was squishing against the girl's right shoulder. The little girl scent and the sexual arousal that she'd voluntarily chosen to squelch started to gang up on her. The quiver in her coochie was turning into a familiar low hum. She'd known her nipples were tightening and protruding even before Rebecca's little hand cupped her right breast through the sheer gauzy lace. The small teenaged hand wasn't that much bigger than her crinkled areola. The pressure on the cherry gumdrop center sent an electric charge to join the hum down below. "I'll never have a better opportunity to explore and experience this part than I have right now," Becky observed astutely. Jodie closed her eyes and she was back in her sister's bedroom twelve years ago. Kelly was drying her hair, just having gotten out of the shower, a big white bath sheet synched under her arms. She recalled the curious look on her older sister's face when Kelly saw her sitting on her bed. A boy at school had told her the week before that her sister was a whore. Her first reaction was to scratch his eyes out but something made her interrogate him instead. His father was a limo driver and her classmate overheard his dad telling his mom about an incident that happened in his stretched Lincoln. Jodie offered her malicious classmate the sublime opportunity to feel her budding twelve year old tits if he told her word for word what his dad had said. 'You know that bomb shell who graduated a couple of years ago ... I think her sister's in Ricky's class ... well she was servicing this guy going over to Reno like there was no tomorrow. She's a pro for sure.' Jodie recalled her reaction to the story as excitement; certainly not embarrassment or revulsion. Working in the sex trade in Nevada did not have the stigma attached to it that plagued the rest of the country. Just the same the more conservative citizens didn't condone the occupation and she knew that her parents could be counted among their number. If they found out how their college going daughter was financing her comfortable lifestyle there'd be hell to pay. Originally she'd just gone over to Kelly's place to confront her with the information and clear up any residual doubt. The rest was just a combination of adolescent curiosity and opportunism. Under threat of blowing her cover she coerced her spectacularly built sister to teach her everything she knew. Later she went back to Ricky demonstrated her appreciation and proved some principles of genetics. Feeling her mons beginning to glow and swell from the young heiress's hand on her tit, she wondered if her license would still be in jeopardy if she didn't bill this call—if she just pretended, for professional purposes that this never happened. 'What if I'm just a friend teaching a friend?' she wondered as the heat built in her loins. "Breasts are very ... uh, exciting to me," the teenager confessed. "Can I see yours again?" Jodie was well aware of the slippery slope she was on when she unfastened her brassiere. The contact of her client's little hand just pressing on her sensitive nub had been hard enough to deal with. Giving the teenager free range was going to be impossible to control. 'Oh God why couldn't she be ten years older ... even five or six... ' With the lace cups peeled out of the way Jodie was amazed at how soft her client's palm felt on her turgid nipple. The only thing she'd felt that came close was a tongue. What was lacking was spit, and surprisingly the lack of lubrication made it even more stimulating. Her nip felt so hot against the coolness of the girl's palm. "Why don't you take your dress off ... you'll be more comfortable," Jodie could hardly believe that she'd said the words but she didn't regret it. She was a friend teaching a friend; that was her story and she was sticking to it. Becky got to her knees and pulled the sundress over her head. Now she was naked. Her chest muffins were very well developed for a thirteen year old. Her lemon sized titties were capped with pretty pink circles that were a little too big for the mound they fronted. It was hard to distinguish the immature nipple. The Call Girl was thinking that Rebecca's breasts were similar to the size hers had been at that age. Rebecca looked down at her chest and then continued down her slender torso. Past her breasts she was pretty flat in the front down over ribs and tummy until you came to the mons. It stuck out a good half inch as though she was hiding a ball of some sort between her legs. The review completed with her slender but not skinny thighs where her knees disappeared into the rumpled twisted bedspread. Her gaze picked up Jodie's figure at about the same point—just above the knees. Roving up the shapely tanned thighs to the flare of her Call Girl's hips, she paused only a moment on the tiny lace triangle covering the bald womanhood before proceeding over her flat but soft looking tummy and arriving at the full roundness of the twenty-something's melons. Again her scan slowed but didn't stop. She continued to the pretty blonde's face and found the sex trade worker smiling knowingly. Jodie was accustomed to this kind of head to toe review and she was proud of her body so it gave her a tingle to have it so evidently appreciated. She was doing a review of her own and only peripherally conscious of Rebecca's assessment. When Becky got to her tutor's face and realized that the older woman was looking her up and down she blushed. Not since Sister Eloise's check-ups had she been naked in front of another person. She was aware that her body had changed a lot in the year or so since the helpful nun had kept such close loving tabs on her development. "Do ... do I look okay," the kneeling girl asked tentatively. Hearing the tiny voice, Jodie was forced to realize again how young she was, and how much trouble she could get in. "Am I ... uh developing properly?" The increasing hum between her legs as she looked at the precociously developed teen drown out her conscience. "You're ahead in a lot of ways," the Call Girl reassured leaning forward and reaching out to stroke the outside swell of the ultra-firm little tit. The contact of the older woman's hand on her boobie radiated heat and a very warm wave washed over Becky. Like ripples in a pond, the wave turned back on itself in her pussy and in her head. The ensuing lightheadedness did not stop the girl from reaching out to return the favor. Her hand looked so tiny in relation to Jodie's 'D' cup breasts. When her tutor cupped and squeezed her pert developing mounds Rebecca tried to do the same without much success. The Call Girl's tits were just too big so she settled for grabbing the older woman's nipples—tugging and twisting. Jodie raked her thumbs over the girl's plump pink areola and was rewarded by a little reddish button rising from the center of each. She was gently digging her medium length nails into the tender little tip while the teenager got progressively rougher with her dugs as her excitement grew. Rebecca's fingers and hands were working the older woman's nipples without her conscious control. She'd never paid a lot of attention to her own boobies before. A little bit of squeezing—which always felt nice—but now the older woman had opened a conduit. Rebecca now realized that there was a direct connection between her nipples and her pussy. Every movement of the Call Girl's sharp thumb nail was thrilling even though it bordered on pain, and it sent stream of pleasure signals that collided and swirled in her crotch. Jodie was pretty sure her client had never milked a cow. Neither had she for that matter; but the girls manipulation of her tits was remarkably similar to video she'd seen of the process. As soft as the teen's hands were the friction was starting to get abrasive. Grabbing her own breasts she pulled them out of Becky's grasp and, one after the other; put her burning nipples in her mouth. Swirling her tongue over the hot pegs her saliva cooled and soothed them. The kneeling girl watched in awe and just for an instant wondered it hers would ever be big enough to do that. Then she concluded that it was a demonstration of what she was supposed to do next. The teen descended on the Call Girl's tits burying her face in their squishy plumpness and capturing the rubbery nipple in her mouth. Rebecca was amazed at the excitement she felt having the long firm milk dispenser in her mouth. Exploring it thoroughly with her tongue she began to suck. Jodie felt the pleasure waves wash over her and without thinking her hand went to the sodden crotch of her lace thong. She could feel the heat and puffiness of her long lips through the saturated lace. It was as though Becky was playing a guitar solo on her tits and the light stroking twisting movements of her own fingers were the rest of the band, playing in perfect harmony. In the process of their tittie play Jodie's hips had moved down the bed. As she stroked herself her knuckles brushed the kneeling girl's knee. The light contact on her leg drew Rebecca's attention. The urge was sudden, unexpected and overpowering. Moving backward quickly to make space the teen grabbed the waist band of her tutor's thong and started to pull. Jodie unnecessarily raised her hips to facilitate the removal of her panties. Pulling her legs up as the teenager pulled the tiny piece of lace and ribbon down; she wound up with her feet flat on the bed up near her butt and her knees pointed at the ceiling. The tutor looked at her pupil sitting holding her damp panties and slowly, teasingly let her legs begin to part. With her eyes fixed on the hairless pudendum being slowly revealed Becky pressed the itsy-bitsy triangle that had been covering Jodie's pussy to her face. The teen inhaled the Call Girl's fragrance and realized that it was unique. Not exactly like her own or her step-moms. This was essence of Jodie and she sucked on the little piece of lace greedily as the source of the ambrosia came into view. The reclining older woman's labia didn't need much spreading. Her petals were open like a dew covered flower facing the morning sun. Nevertheless, in a replay of the anatomy lesson, Jodie ran her fingers up her wide open gash and spread it even further exposing her cream filled depths. Her hand continued upward until it encountered the pearly nubbin at the top. Avoiding direct contact with her exposed clitoral glans she pinched the hood behind the 'wee man in the boat' making him stand straight up and out. Overwhelmed with desire Becky dove toward the Call Girl's cream covered pinkness. Jodie saw her client's impending assault and reached out to halt her descent. Rebecca looked at her tutor in confusion. "Slowly ... gently honey," the exposed woman begged. Jodie hoped that by controlling the speed of Rebecca's approach that she was setting the pace. Becky had pushed her legs out from under her toward the foot of the bed so that she was now lying on her tummy. There wasn't enough room so she had to bend her knees folding them back so her heels were nearly on her butt. The Call Girl maintained the resisting pressure on the heiress' shoulders until she felt the girl no longer driving forward. Rebecca was staring into the older woman's sex. She'd seen it explicitly displayed less than an hour ago but this was different. Previously she'd been six feet from the multi-toned pink folds now she was within inches and she wasn't even trying to get any closer. At this range the drooling womanhood filled her field of vision. No longer being concerned with a frenzied assault freed Jodie's hands. She applied a little pressure to her plump and swollen outer lips. Rebecca lay there on her tummy examining her teacher's pussy as if she were seeing an artist's masterpiece for the first time. The artist was God who's never made two identical vulvas. The older woman felt the coolness of the teen's breath on her sex and the enraptured expression on her student's face. The girl's obvious appreciation added a new component to her arousal. The fragrance Becky had enjoyed from the Call Girl's thong filled her nostrils, but it was warm and sweet like baking bread with a slightly pungent finish. Looking down between her widely spread thighs Jodie was reminded of wine connoisseurs sampling the bouquet before tasting. Scooting down the supple young escort increased the tilt in her pelvis exposing her entire pelvic floor including the tiny pink puckered ring of her anus. To accomplish this she had to raise her legs in the air. The hours in the gym paid off as she bought her feet up over her head assuming the inviting athletic position. "Slowly honey, start at the bottom and work up," Jodie instructed reaching around the outsides of her thighs and prying the bottom-most portion of her lips, near her perineum, apart. Rebecca misunderstood. To her the bottom was the puckered pink ring. Adjusting her position once again—back on her knees—she applied her tongue to the firm crinkle of Jodie's anus. The loud wail from her instructor encouraged her so she swirled her tongue around it and even tried to poke it inside a little. "Oh God ... oh fuck!" the Call Girl groaned involuntarily. Becky was surprised by how much spit was poring out of her mouth. She stirred it all around exploring and reveling in the effect that it was having on her teacher. She began lapping up from the tight looking rose bud up to the softer mushier folds of the groaning woman's pussy, and then went back down to the bottom to start again. The whole area was now covered in slippery flowing fluids. It was impossible to distinguish Rebecca's saliva from Jodie's vaginal secretions. A veritable stream was flowing between the Call Girl's widely spread cheeks over her tailbone. The wet smacking slurping sounds were turning the teenager on as much as Jodie's appreciative moaning. Head down, pert little teenaged butt high in the air, Becky thought she'd be quite content to do this forever. Hector D'Angelo stood near the Staff Only door waiting for his target. He was familiar with all the staff but rarely broke the chain of command; which is why the Latina maid looked so shocked when he called out to her. Marguerite's heart stopped and her stomach dropped into her shoes at the sound of the General Manager's voice. 'He knows!' she thought as she tried to fight off the rising panic. 'Somehow he knows what happened with the teenager ... maybe she called him because she was so upset ... now I'm going to be fired!' The dire consequences of loosing her job nearly made her swoon. The look of sheer terror on the maid's face was thrilling for the unscrupulous C.O.O. "I want to see you in my office right now," D'Angelo said sternly, further mortifying the pleasingly plump maid. He turned and began to walk away. The Latina had to will her legs, which seemed to have turned to Silly-Putty, to move. All the way down the hall and into the corridor leading to the executive offices Marguerite stewed about how she could explain. Was there anyway to save her job? She was doubtful but she had to try. Inside the large opulent office there was a lingering odor of cigar smoke and brandy. The penitent maid felt like a small child about to be spanked. The only thing she held in higher reverence than the guests of the hotel were its executives. For the trembling Latina this was like an audience with God, and she had sinned—sinned by not satisfying the most important guest the hotel could ever have. Hector closed and silently flipped the latch on his office door behind them. He had rehearsed the speech he would use to recruit the pliable member of his housekeeping staff to be his clandestine operative in his head many times. Moving around in front of the penitent maid he rested his butt on the edge of his huge oak desk and prepared to deliver his argument but the terrified woman spoke first. "Let me explain!" Marguerite pleaded, tears welling in her deep dark eyes. Hector was thrown completely off balance. He'd expected, even counted on, the Hispanic's subservient demeanor. He wasn't expecting any assistance. "Very well, explain," he pursued the unanticipated opportunity. "I ... I didn't know what she wanted. She didn't explain herself clearly. I've never done anything like that before ... I swear—" the tortured member of his housekeeping staff wailed softly as her eyes overflowed and the teardrops trickled down her cheeks. Apparently his prospective spy thought he had knowledge that he didn't possess. Quite clearly he wasn't going to let her know that. "Show me what you did, and I'll be the judge of whether it was sufficient or not," Hector ordered having no idea whatsoever what he was asking for. Marguerite shuddered at repeating the erotic show the teenager had made her perform, but if that's what it took to save her job she would swallow her pride once more. The General Manager's dick spasmed when his victim's hands went up behind her head and released the hooks at the top of the maid's dress and then reversed to pull the zipper down. 'She's going to strip, ' he realized and his incredible good fortune nearly overwhelmed his purpose. |