"Naughty aunt Susan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Ron)

CHAPTER SEVEN

She wasn't my rescuer – she hadn't come in time to save me from anything – but she was upset and I could sense that she somehow cared about me. Of course, it looked worse than it really was. "The blood's menstrual," I said resignedly, staring at the big red smear. "My aunt is gonna shit when she sees that."

Her hand patted my shoulder in a consoling gesture and I felt our hearts meeting somewhere in the space between our bodies. I had no control over that, none at all. It was as natural and automatic as the daily routine of sun and earth.

I've already told you about her big straw hat and her golden hair and her perfectly shaped face. Well, the rest of her was definitely up to par.

She wore an artist's smock, bright pink with little stains of paint here and there and brushes and pencils sticking from one pocket. The smock was unbuttoned and I could see that she also wore a snug blue body shirt, a shade and a half darker than her lustrous, liquid eyes, and below that a denim skirt, very short. Those faggot fashion designers have been trying to kill the mini for years, but my new friend's legs were the absolutely unanswerable argument for short skirts. They were long and tanned and beautiful.

Her face was a valentine heart, big blue eyes and a little red mouth and a tiny dimple in her chin. She was a walking advertisement for perfect beauty.

I suppose she was in her middle twenties. Her name was Belinda. I didn't have to ask, because it was rhinestoned in big bold letters across the front of her sweater. B-E-L-I-N-D-A, curving with the thrusting swell of her tits. I didn't know whether her boobs or her monogram was the more eye-catching, but whichever, I found my eyes almost glued to her chest.

She had rings on every finger, the biggest one of those mood rings that change color depending on how you feel. It was deep black right now, a bad sign. A large gold wedding band was almost as noticeable.

"Come on," Belinda suggested. "I'll take you home and help you get freshened up. You really need it."

We picked up her easel and painting – it was watercolor, a landscape, and I thought it was pretty good – and she took me to her car, a small red sports model parked in the stadium lot. From there it wasn't far to her house, and I talked all the way in a burst of nervous energy.

I must have told her my life story, or at least the relevant portions, dwelling mostly upon the way I'd been misused a short time ago. She clucked in sympathy and assured me that we could dump my clothes into her washer and get them spic and span in a twinkling.

She lived on the south side of town. Belinda and her husband were newcomers here in Athens, having been here only a month or six weeks. Her man was a lawyer, she said, and he'd just taken on a partnership in a law firm here in town. They were from Illinois but she didn't have a Midwestern twang in her voice. I didn't care about her accent or her husband. I couldn't take my eyes away from her.

She was so beautiful, I kept telling myself, and she carried herself in a way that showed she knew it. Her body was a study in graceful shapeliness and she had a nice personality besides. Alan hadn't done a thing for me but Belinda Rodgers was the most erotically stimulating creature I had ever seen. My cunt grew damp as I shifted uncomfortably on the bucket seat, and I thought maybe I was seeping more blood, but that wasn't it. I was just getting the hots for my blonde acquaintance.

Knock it off, Pamela Crosby, I told myself archly. She's just being kind. She wants to help you. She probably even feeds stray cats and dogs, too. Besides, the only girl I'd ever been intimate with was Lilly. I'd never had the courage to make overtures to any other girls, and I wasn't sure I knew how. With guys it's so easy. You're on the prowl and so are they. But with girls it's a whole different scene.

Well, I thought, it's settled. I'm definitely a lesbian. There's no question whatsoever. A good-looking stud and his big thick cock had only turned me off, but I was about to cream in my panties thinking about how nice it would be to lick this nice lady's nipples. I would have some good news for Lilly. Maybe I'd better call her this evening or tomorrow and let her know that I'd decided, and I'd better read the book she lent me, too, so I'd know how to behave as a full-fledged lez.

Belinda led me into the basement of her house, and she rounded up an armful of soaps and bleaches. "These should do the trick," she informed me, setting the machine. "If you'd like to go around the corner and hand me your clothes, I'll put them in the washer and find something for you to put on while you're waiting."

"No big deal," I said with a smile, dropping my shorts and stepping out of them. I flipped them into the washer, then took off my panties, too. "He touched my halter," I went on, "so I guess it would be sanitary to wash it, too," and with that I was standing naked and unashamed before her.

Belinda handed me a tissue to wipe my cunt, and I only wished it were her fingers that did the job instead of my own. She smiled as she watched me, and I just kept wiping and swabbing, rubbing that soppy tissue till my cunt itched from the constant back and forth touching.

"You have a lovely figure," Belinda said, her voice just a bit throaty.

"There are better," I said boldly, meeting her eyes with mine. God, my nipples were hot and stiff, as if someone had been mouthing them without let-up for a long, long time! They ached and yearned and I wanted to touch them, to rub away their poignant erections.

Belinda turned away from me suddenly, and she flipped the washer switch into life. "How old are you?" she asked tightly. "You look very young."

"I'm a senior," I replied, taking a step closer. She could only slap me, throw me out on, my ass. I put my hand on her waist. She'd discarded her smock and the denim of her short skirt looked so inviting, so touchable…

Belinda stiffened at my touch and she turned back to face me, moving very slowly. My hand glided with her, remaining on the definite line of her waist. Her blue eyes were liquid and filmy and she was curling her mouth into a smile. "Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, very softly.

"I think so," I replied, and I leaned in to kiss her. She was just my size, and our lips came together perfectly.

My mouth was open and hers was shut, and it seemed that I was swallowing her up while the washer roared away in the background. I put both my hands on her waist and I squirmed against her bravely, and almost before I knew it Belinda had wrapped one of her long legs around one of mine and her hands were clawing fiercely on my bare back. Her lips parted to accept my tongue. Honey flowed into my mouth, hot and sweet as vintage brandy.

My tits crushed upon hers and our cunt-mounds oozed together. The denim of her skirt tickled my puss incessantly, and I thought I'd cream on the spot from pure excitement, but that was nothing to the feeling I got when Belinda's hands cupped the cheeks of my ass and began to squeeze insistently.

I lifted as her hands commanded, and her fingertips moved into my crack, and then I wanted to climb her body like a tree. By now I was holding her tightly, as she did me, and our legs were entwined where we stood, and I'm not sure who or what was actually supporting us then.

She shuddered in my arms as the kiss became deeper, more searching, and I know that I was shuddering in her embrace, too. Why shouldn't I be trembling? I'd fantasized this, almost from the first time I looked into her eyes, and now it was coming true. Was Belinda a sister? She was married, yes, but that was no guarantee of straightness. Certainly she knew how to kiss me and hold me, and I couldn't believe this was her first time.

Finally our mouths squished apart and I found myself staring into the bottomless pools of her eyes. "You're so gorgeous," I said. "I want to love you."

"Did I say you couldn't?" she wondered with a come-on glimmer shining.

The basement floor was cement and of course we couldn't roll one another on its cold surface. When Belinda suggested that we adjourn to her bedroom, I was dancing on air, and when she stood beside her bed, unwrapping her wraparound denim skirt, stepping out of her body shirt, I wanted to sing for joy.

Wearing only a filmy blue bra, Belinda held out her hands to me and I stepped close. The bright-pink smears of her big nipples were like eyes in the cups of her brassiere and I touched them through the sheer fabric, feeling their hard points. She closed her eyes and petted me while I stroked her, and then I undid the clasp between her tits and set free her jugs.

They were lovely – she was lovely – I couldn't be so base as to single out the various features of her body and say this one or that was most outstanding. Her frame was voluptuously adorned, with a pair of rounded, thrusting tits that were already firm with lust. Her waist was narrow, flaring into lissome, well-curved hips and legs, and between her upper thighs nestled the sexiest, most edible-looking cunt I had ever seen.

It was plump and perfectly formed, the lips pink, the pussy fur shaven clean away, and the smooth, tanned columns of her legs framed it beautifully. I couldn't resist the impulse to touch it, and my fingers stroked its dainty bulging presence.

"That feels good," Belinda told me, kissing my neck. I pressed at the tidy gash and my little finger slid inside. She went onto tiptoes as I thrust deeply, and I felt her snatch begin to moisten around my finger. While Belinda oohed and ahed her delight, I bent my head and let my tongue butterfly back and forth on the stiff pink tabs of her nipples.

They seemed to swell and blossom to breathtaking proportions as I mouthed them, one after the other, and Belinda pressed her chest against my face. She had a full, womanly set of tits, and I could have been content merely to put my head between them and let the tanned globes caress my cheeks.

Belinda was tan all over, her body an even, sun-kissed shade of gold, and her face was flushed with excitement. I could feel a pounding of blood in my own temples, and there was a mist of spittle on my lips as I took them from her breasts and we stood face-to-face once more.

"It's my turn now," she husked, and she grabbed me by the waist. Resisting her was a fun thing to do, and we wrestled our way to the bed, bouncing upon it together in a tangle of legs and arms. Belinda pinned me easily, my legs apart, hers between them. She lay atop me, our crotches pressed tightly, and there was so much wetness between my legs that hers must have been leaking onto me. As she perched there, her boobs jiggled, the nipples sticking out big and pink, and my tits were heaving, too, and my nipples were just as big, just as pink, and I wanted so much for Belinda to suck on me.

Her teeth were smooth and white and even, a model's set of teeth, or an actress', and her lips were full and sensuous. I pursed my own, imagining how those lips would feel when they began to chew and pull my teats, and I wanted to see the red marks of her lipstick on my jugs. I put my hands on her cheeks and pulled her head downward. She laughed, all silver and sparkle, and her open mouth fell upon my tits.

We rolled on the bed as Belinda nursed me, and I found out how erectile my nipple tissue really was. The points engorged and thrust out a mile as her mouth pulled and twisted on them. I wrapped my hands around her head and clutched her to my bosom.

She reached between my legs as we writhed, and her hand seized a painful of my copper-bushed cunt-mound. The first sensation I felt was pain, the awful memory of that nasty Alan fucking me so rudely, but the soreness vanished as Belinda's hand applied itself to the job of soothing away my cares. She rubbed and caressed, my pussy hair crackling electrically, and her knuckle joints tickled the tender lips of my slit. When two of her fingers went inside me without warning, it was a moment I knew I'd never forget.

Remember, I was still menstruating, and my cunny was sore as a busted finger inside. Belinda didn't abuse me – she remembered, too, it was obvious – but she did show me how thin and how delightful was the division between pain and ecstasy. Her fingers were long and slim, and they wiggled in my tight glove-like pussy, squirming so deeply that her finger rings scraped and tickled the flanges at my entrance.

I whined and jerked and tried to fuck my pussy onto her fingers, to suck her hand all the way up my cunt. I could have done it, but she wasn't ready for that. At least not yet. She just kept diddling me with those two long fingers, all the while sucking, biting, and kissing my tits.

She had a good oral technique. Her mouth fondled my nipples, teeth gently pulling the points as far as they would stretch. And before the rubbery tips could retract, she would lave them round and round with her tongue, last of all planting a smacking little kiss on the titty hard-ons she had orally nurtured. And just as often she would abandon the nipples altogether, using her tongue to lick big swirling circles on the lower and inner curves of my tits, teasing the sensile tissue there in ways I'd never been teased before.

My hand stroked up and down her back, into the cleft of her butt-cheeks. I found her asshole and probed it with a fingertip. Belinda wasn't uptight about her shithole. Apparently it had seen its share of use and was ready to be used again, for my finger met no resistance at all from her sphincter muscle. If anything, she was able to open herself up and suck me inside her ass, and her butt wiggled happily when we came together.

So there we were. I still couldn't believe it. Belinda made Lilly seem an amateur at lesbian love, and I knew that I was being had by an expert. Was Belinda a dyke, like Lilly and I were? I wanted to know, of course, but that could wait till later. We had some screwing to do.

I pulled my finger out of her asshole and patted the plump cheeks of her butt. "I want to eat you," I told the top of her head. "Let me eat you. Please!"

She raised her head. "Unh-unh," she giggled. "You're a guest in this house, and my guests always come first."

With that she touched my thigh, beckoning it to slip aside, and she pulled her fingers from my pussy. I caught a quick sight of her mood ring. It had been black when we first met, there in the woods, but now it was a gleaming purple. No doubt at all about her state of mind. She stroked my tummy with the flat of one hand, her eyes fixed on my pussy, and then she dropped her head and moved in on me.

"Hey!" I squealed as her mouth clamped down on my cunt. Had she forgotten so soon? Oh, God, this would spoil everything! As soon as she stuck her tongue into the sticky mess inside me. Belinda's mouth roved up and down my cuntal region, licking and kissing. She caught some pussy hairs in her teeth and pulled them friskily, making me jerk and squeak, and I felt her tongue gliding across the supersensitive region at the tops of my thighs. And then she was licking the slice of my cunt, licking it with a free good will, her pink tongue flitting and fucking on the little protrusion of my inner labes. Oh, I thought, this is too good to be happening!

Belinda spread my gash with her fingers and she rammed her tongue into my hole. If she noticed the female fluids created by my period, she didn't let me know. And when her tongue found my throbbing cunt and began to bat it from side to side like a croquet ball, I didn't care any more.

She made humming, appreciative sounds as she slurped and sucked between my legs, and my cunt opened up like a gaping mouth to give her access.

Her fingers played with the rim while her tongue stabbed inside, and it seemed as if she had her entire head inside me. I could feel the point of her chin burrowing between my cunt-lips, and then it was replaced by her dainty nose, and finally her tongue roved inside once again, giving me the best of all. I lunged upward time after time as her mouth loved me, and I smeared my pussy upon her lovely face.

Belinda's legs were near my head, and I reached for them. They were smooth and cleanly shaven, just like her cunt, and it was such a contrast from Lilly who believed that body hair was where it was at. Well, Lilly was fine in her place, but right now I was in Belinda's place. I couldn't pull the woman close enough to get my own mouth into action, but I was able to stick my thumb into her hole and my little finger into her shitter, and I began to use them as best I could for her benefit and amusement. It seemed to work.

She hopped when I double-pronged her and she lapped more furiously at my puss. Her mumbling moans increased and the vibrations tremored throughout my entire cunt. I got a thigh round her neck and pulled her head closer in a wicked wrestler's lock that Belinda didn't seem to mind at all.

She had the tightest, wettest snatch imaginable. It was in prime condition, besides. My thumb moved curiously inside it as I tested its velvety smoothness, and I kept brushing the bud of her clitoris. Bud? Her love-trigger was more like a treetrunk! It was big and limber, and it seemed to get bigger and more limber each time I strummed it in play. At the same time I'd wiggle and crook the little finger that plugged her asshole, and it seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

There's an old joke about how to tell when a snatch is worn out. You stick your thumb in the pussy and another finger in the ass and, if you can still snap them, then it's worn out. Well, that's a man's joke. And Belinda was nowhere near worn out. She was tight and wet and any guy in the world would have been drooling to be in my shoes right then. But it was me she was loving, and that was how it should have been.

The asshole and the cunt aren't very far apart. As my little finger jiggled inside her ass it could feel my thumb moving on the other side of the little wall of flesh that separates the two tracts. So I tried to work them in a kind of rhythmic alternation. Wiggle, thumb! Plunge, little finger! Each time Belinda squirmed where her body met my hand and joined it, and each time I made my finger work take on a slightly altered tempo so that she couldn't guess what I might do to her next.

As if I had any idea myself! Her cunt was tight and wet and oozing with vibrant energy. She knew how to use it. The muscles inside her twat rippled and milked my finger, and it wasn't so much me thumbing Belinda as Belinda cuntally ingesting my thumb. She heaved and jerked as she made love to my hand and snatch, and I could smell the lilac fragrance of her body so near to mine.

Belinda was no slouch in the snatch-eating department. God knows how I must have tasted to her. No one had ever gone down on me while I was on the rag before, and of course I loved it, but the girl must either have a cast-iron stomach or the most intense pussy hunger imaginable. She pried my labes widely with her fingers and she ravished my twat with her tongue, not forgetting to use her teeth when I least expected it.

My legs were thrown far apart and Belinda used her tongue and fingers on them, too, abandoning my steamy hole long enough for a bit of extracurricular stimulation. She'd be leaving teeth marks on my thighs, hickeys, too, and I'd wear them like a soldier wean his medals. If she'd only move closer, let me get my head between her legs instead of just my hand, I would give her the equivalent of a silver star for her very own.

I went into double-time with the finger and thumb I had stuffed into her, reaming her twin holes at the same time and with ferocious energy. The juices of her snatch soaked my hand. I could smell them drifting across the bed towards my nose. I'd had enough of touching them and smelling them. Now I wanted to suck up her moisture, to revel in it with my lips and tongue.

She understood. She didn't let up her oral attack on me for the fraction of a second, but she began to slide her butt towards my face, and my hands, seizing the smooth columns of her thighs and the proud curves of her ass, did the rest.

I wasn't plugging her with thumb and finger now. There was no need of it. I steered her groin and slipped one of her legs over me, and then her pussy came to rest upon my face. She was so smooth, so moist, so tingly warm – I licked her bulge with my racing tongue, scarcely taking time to pay special attention to her glistening cunt-lips.

Belinda squirmed when she felt my lingual caress, and she settled down upon me firmly. The slit in her shaven cunt-mound was pressing upon my mouth, so I jabbed my tongue inside and tickled everything I could find.

That included her clitoris, which, I've already told you, was slightly oversized. It had trembled passionately when my thumb played with its nubby projection, and I had thought that too darling for words. Now my tongue was upon it, wiggling it around and around, and I could taste the dewy juice in which Belinda's trigger was bathed. The flavor lingered on my taste buds, thrilling me beyond belief, and I spread her delicate slice so that I could use my lips on her button. I wanted to suckle it, to nurse it like a nipple, and I did.

She sighed into my cunt, still licking and sucking, and I whispered her name gently. The half-spoken word seemed to echo and reverberate inside her parted gash. Belinda squirmed, causing her bottom to jiggle back and forth across my face, and she was leaking more fluidly than before. The little rushes of her cream drained into my open mouth and my head went dizzy with joy.

"Say something else," Belinda implored, and as soon as she did, I knew why. Her lips were pressed into my own snatch and they fluttered teasingly upon my labes. A humming vibration ricocheted up and down my spread cunt. My cunt seemed to balloon enormously from the power of the echo, and I could feel my private juice flowing as copiously into Belinda's mouth as hers seeped into mine.

"I love you," I said, hoping that she appreciated the words as well as their effect. And then it didn't seem important at all. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to eat her cunt, and I prayed that she would concentrate on eating mine.

She did! And she was good, so good! Lilly had been my only female lover, and I had thought her perfect at what she did, but Belinda's natural talent was stunning. Or maybe it was a cultivated accomplishment. I didn't know or care. I just wanted her to do it to me!

I followed where she led, retaliating on her cunt as soon as my whirling mind understood what clever tactic she was practicing upon me. When she took my cunt between two fingertips and plied it forcefully, I did the same to her. One of my fingers lost its footing in her slippery slice and I found it irresistibly diving up the channel of her cunt. I couldn't prevent it – I could only thrust it savagely and jiggle it with affection.

Belinda's jerking cunt massaged my finger with manifold intriguing variations, and I didn't really have to do anything. Her cunt was churning and performing, and my only role was to provide it with stuffing. Her snatch pulled mein and spat me out, only to draw me inside her once again. It was a mechanical process, in a way, but there was really nothing mechanical about her sweet, tantalizing pussy, a being of flesh and blood and human sensation. I began to lick the lips of her gash, admiring for the millionth time the shaven smoothness that I found. She cared for herself, it was apparent. There was no stubble – she must shave every day – and I could taste the faintest lingering trace of sweet talcy powder on her flesh, though the seeping wetness of her cunt was a delicious, overwhelming fragrance on my mouth.

That was about the time Belinda decided to go for broke with me. She caught my throbbing trigger between her lips and jerked it savagely, passionately, fantastically – at the same instant plunging all the fingers of one hand into my tight, raw hole. I screamed when I realized what she was doing, but I didn't stop fingering and licking, and I couldn't repress a moan of gurgling ecstasy when I felt my bloody cunt expanding to give her fingers access. She kept mouthing my clitoris, rolling it on her red lips, and her hand assailed my pussy. Almost before I knew it she had inserted her entire hand, right up to her wrist, and my cunny was getting the fucking of its life!

I had heard about fist-fucking but no one had ever done it to me. Not until now. Belinda seemed to enjoy it, to take a special delight in wriggling her hand as she used it like an enormous prick inside my hole, and I was learning to love the trick myself.

I wondered how far she intended to carry this, but the matter quickly became unimportant. My body turned into creamy pudding before I could stop it, and I couldn't keep licking Belinda's snatch. The only thing I could do was scream. By that time she was moving for an elbow-deep insertion of her screwing arm and only the ecstatic set of contractions that volcanoed through my pussy prevented her from doing it.

That, and the onrush of her own climax. I felt her pussy snap like a vise on the finger with which I pronged her, and a flood of girlish jism drenched my face. It was in my eyes, in my nose, in my mouth, and I sucked it through my screams and moans. Belinda squashed her creaming snatch down upon me and I breathed in its wonderful aromatic sensuality, wishing I could live out my life with my head between her legs.

We lay on the bed later, kissing and petting just the way Lilly and I always did after sex. Belinda's face was smeared with my cum and menstrual flow, but I didn't even think about that when our lips came together. I wanted her tongue inside my mouth and more inside hers, and we shared little dueling stabs back and forth till the madness wore off and we were able to relax.

"How long have you been gay?" I asked her, my hand cupping her ripe left tit. She was stroking my tummy, and I could see the mess my cursed cunt had left on the sheets, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I'm not," she said. "At least, not in the way you seem to mean. Why, are you?"

I nodded, and I told her the facts about me – how I'd been so breathtakingly promiscuous until I saw how dumb it was. Guys didn't mean anything to me any more. Either they were dull and interchangeable, like most of the boys I'd balled, or they were crude and grabby, like Alan today. In fact, his insistence upon getting a piece of tail in return for showing me part of the campus was the straw that broke the camel's back, as far as I was concerned.

"Girls are different," I went on. "Like you. You knew I was on the rag, for God's sakes, and it didn't matter. You wanted me, and I wanted you, and we made it. I never heard you complain. Guys don't even like to touch me that time of the month."

"They don't know what they're missing, either," she agreed. "When I have my period, I become a slutty animal. All women do. They've been conditioned not to want sex then, because it's messy, but their pussies don't know that, and their pussies get hungry."

"Look," I said, "I'll be around Athens for at least the next three or four weeks. When yours hits again, I'll eat you – I mean, you won't be able to walk for a couple of days."

"Promise?" she laughed. "But, Pam, I think you ought to know something about me. First of all, I am a very happily married lady. My husband and I dig each other. Love, you know? On the other hand, though, we've been into swinging almost as long as we're been married. Open marriage – group sex – freedom for both of us – you name it. We've done it. Not since we moved here – we're still sounding out the community, you know? I'm not a lesbian, not the way you say you are. I just like to make it, and making it with other girls is part of my life."

I knew what she meant. I used to think I was the same way, that my principal interest was in boys, with Lilly as a constant source of variety on the sidelines. Not now. Belinda didn't know that you can't have it both ways. You have to choose. I tried to tell her.

"No, you don't," she replied softly. "And aren't you kinda young to be making such a momentous decision? God, it's nice to be a dyke when you're ripe and tight and gorgeous, the way you are. But what about later? Have you ever thought about being fifty years old and cruising a gay bar looking for some young piece to go borne with you? And going home alone most of the time anyway? Oh, Pam, just because you haven't felt the earth turning when some high-school Romeo balls you is no reason to give it up. Listen to me – I sound like a preacher. Well…"

She didn't finish. Outside a car horn tooted and she smiled happily. "It's my husband," she said. "Don't you dare move. He'll want to meet you, and I think you might enjoy meeting him, too."