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BL-5341-Emily's Lips By Arthur Alexander



Prologue

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 m
 ore, 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 i
 t 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 1

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 handkerchi
 ef, 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 u
 seless 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 clichéd 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 décolleté. 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 breas
 ts 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 feminity.

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 waterbed, 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 s
 mooth 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 sh
 e 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 pantles
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, redhaired
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
waterbed 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 o
 f 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 2

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 the
 se 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 upo
 n 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 hawklike 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."

"Ohlhh!"

"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 suspend- ed 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 3

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--"

"Revolted sexuality! That's pretty good," Emily laughed.

"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 purpo
 ses 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 annointed 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 buffetted 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 passio
 n.

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, eb?"

"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 ecstacy 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 4

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 sligh
 tly 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 cou
 ch. 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 An
 gela 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 hi
 s 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 unself-conscious 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 f
 ish, 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 langorous 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 auto-eroticism 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 an
 d 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 th
 e 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 herse
 lf 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 th
 ey liked with Emily's own melonlike 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 tweeked 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 5

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 ki
 nd 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 fran
 tically 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 6

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. Mis-guided 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 hirsu
 te 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 ag!
 ainst he
r 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, featherlike
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 th
 igh 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 pu
 dendum 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, outlined by the dark material. Emily sucked
on her joint and admired the womanly magn
 ificence 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, a
 lmost 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 ascaded 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 bac
 kwash 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 th
 e 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 7

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 outlined 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 entirel
 y 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 conelike 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 fin
 gers 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 he
 r 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 a
 nd 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, unfuffilled, 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. "Im 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.



The End

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