"Wife in the middle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Ron)

CHAPTER SIX

Sheila was absorbed in her painting. The portrait of Claire looked so much better than it had yesterday. Part of that was due to the sun, which was still slightly hanging to eastward, climbing toward noon. The light was different, and it made the picture look different. Even the nipples were beginning to take on the roseate pink that had eluded her brush yesterday afternoon. God, at least she had this much! She could still paint!

Something about Claire's face nagged at her. She studied the painting, worked with her colors, used the brush to make an alteration here and there, then peered carefully at the results. "Oh, Christ!" Sheila said in exasperation. There had been nothing wrong with the face as she'd first painted it. What she was doing, what she had just done, was to give. Claire's features a slight but noticeable resemblance to Melissa Chase, as the girl had looked last night, dancing naked on the beach. The set of eyes, the particular pout of the mouth – it was Melissa she was putting onto the canvas, and not Claire. Sheila cursed softly, began to paint out her mistake. As the brush moved, though, she found that she could not forget the image she had witnessed last night. And what a picture it would make, she told herself. The fire, the blue-black sky with a trail of moonlight gleaming on the ocean. And in the forefront, Melissa, glorious before the blazing fire. Every detail of it was inscribed onto Sheila's memory. A year from now she could do that scene, with photographic precision. Her hand began to shake and she smeared some paint on the canvas. "Fuck," she said. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

"That's really nice," a voice said behind her, and she spun around. The brush fell out of her hand and she almost dropped her palette too. It was Melissa, a towel wrapped around her body, her hair and face wet, as if she'd just stepped from the ocean like Aphrodite. The towel barely covered her crotch. If she were sitting down, Sheila thought, and if she didn't think to close her legs, I could see it all under the edge of that towel. I could see it all. Sheila felt her heart do a pitter-pat and she found herself wondering if she could dig up some excuse for Melissa to sit down for a while.

Melissa came up, looked at the portrait of Claire, the portrait no one else had seen, no one else would ever see. It was a private picture, something that belonged to Sheila's personal life, but somehow she didn't mind the intrusion, didn't resent the curious interest as Melissa studied the painting, nibbling softly on her plump pink lower lip.

"It's gorgeous," Melissa said. "She's very sexy. But how can you paint without a model?"

"I don't need one," Sheila replied softly. "We used to be friends. It's from memory."

Melissa giggled. "You have one hell of a memory. Or were you really good friends, mmm?" She stepped back. "You know what? I'd really dig somebody painting me. I mean, I've modeled for photographs – I was the centerfold girl in HOT CHICKS, but you probably never saw that one, did you? I was lying on a bearskin rug, real tacky, and they'd rubbed my tits with ice to make the nipples stick out, and I had my fingers down here, you know, spreading myself. If you looked real close you could see my tonsils through the split. It was so tacky, but it was fun, too. You know?"

Sheila felt faint. She tried to imagine Melissa spread like that, in front of some photographer with a Hasselblad, and the trouble wasn't that she could not picture it, but that she could. In vivid detail. HOT CHICKS magazine. She didn't think she'd ever seen a copy. But maybe if she could find out which issue, one of the bookshops in Darien could dig up a copy from some back-numbers house…

"I used to do a lot of modeling, but the pay was so low – maybe five dollars or ten dollars an hour, and there's so much competition. You work steady for a few months, and every photographer in LA has a bushel of pictures of you, and nobody needs you anymore, they want new girls, you know? I was washed up at eighteen. Boy – you are really good, you know that, Sheila? Looking at that picture, I can almost reach out and touch the girl, she's so real, I'd like to pose for an artist, for somebody who could make me look that good."

Sheila cleared her throat. She felt madness crawling through her veins. There was no history of insanity in the family, but she knew that she was on the verge of setting the precedent. She was so close to Melissa she could smell the salt water that still clung to the girl and, even more powerful, Melissa's own natural body oils and odors. They were sweet, like rolling in a garden of fragrant flowers, and Sheila felt her head beginning to roll too. Her vision misted, as if heat shimmers were surrounding her on every side, and time after time she willed her nervous hand not to reach out, smooth the tangles from Melissa's golden hair. The skin, oh, God, the skin. Smooth, tanned, little bubbles of water decorating it. Her hand twitched and she wanted to crawl under a rock, join a nunnery – oh, Jesus, not a nunnery – a monastery – a Trappist monastery – anything – to get away…

"You're not interested in finding any new models, I guess," Melissa went on. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, back and forth, and her hips moved inside the towel that appeared to be her only garment. Sheila watched the rise and fall of those ripe haunches and she wanted to turn away, but she couldn't will herself to do it. Not even when she remembered last night, the whorish way Melissa had responded to Lou on the beach. It couldn't dim, couldn't cheapen the passion that swelled inside Sheila, swelled and flamed for this tally, trampy little girl.

"I – uh, I don't know," Sheila heard herself saying. "I – maybe…"

Melissa turned, green eyes sparkling like emeralds. "I'd really dig modeling for you, I think. I mean, if you could make me look that good…"

"I" and "me" seemed to be her favorite words. Narcissistic, yes, and hedonistic, really, dumb, but God in heaven, so desirable…

Sheila took the portrait of Claire off the easel. She picked up a blank canvas board. It gave her something to do with her hands. "Are you gonna let me audition?" Melissa asked delightedly. "Oh, wow!" She hurried around, stood beyond the easel, golden hair glowing in the sunlight. "I guess you want to see how I look without my clothes, huh?" she added, and the towel dropped in a flurry at her feet.

She stood naked, tits lifting as she breathed, and Sheila began to moan while her eyes seemed to blur and mist and her fingers clenched tightly on the brush she held, so tightly that the brush handle snapped in two and both pieces fell to the ground. Melissa cupped her lush full tits from beneath, and she held them as if in offering. The nipples were pink and rigid, big round nipples with fat thick teats set squarely at their centers, and those nipples stared at Sheila like earnest pink eyes. Her legs were slightly parted, and the glorious puff of her shaven cunt was on full display. Sheila could see the reddish-pink of the crease, could even see the tiny inner lips framed in the slash, demure hints of the sweetness and pleasure that lurked a little deeper within.

"Stop it," Sheila whispered. "For the love of Christ, stop it!"

Still cupping her tits, Melissa stepped a pace or two toward Sheila. "Don't you want to paint me?" she asked, a stray wet lock of hair fallen across her smooth forehead, gold hair against gold skin. "Or would you rather fool around a little?" She let go of her tits and went around the easel. Sheila turned, and Melissa's hand stretched out. Sheila took that hand in her own and, together, the two girls walked into the ankle-high grass that dotted the bluff overlooking the cove.

Melissa was short, and she had to stand on tiptoes to kiss Sheila, and when she did, her lush full tits rubbed arousal and invitation onto Sheila's chest. Sheila moaned into, the mouth that covered her own and she embraced Melissa, hands racing down the girl's bare body. She cupped Melissa's buttocks, squeezed, marveled at the taut springy resilient flesh. Warm flesh, smooth flesh, still wet from the ocean. She pinched off tiny rolls of baby fat, felt them glide beneath her probing, seeking fingers. Melissa sighed and wriggled against Sheila, and it was a dream come true. God, it was only a dream! Sheila tried to tell herself. None of this was happening! A perky, frisky tongue slipped into Sheila's mouth, played like a puppy, and Sheila knew that this was no dream sensation. It was real, dear Jesus, it was real and it was happening! To her! To Sheila Diane Ross! She clasped Melissa's ass and ground her, body against the young blonde's, giving full rein to her passion and lust.

They sank onto the grass, still kissing and touching. Sheila felt hands on her breasts, hands that caressed the outline of her tits through the loose shirt she wore, hands that wouldn't be content with caresses, that had to slip inside. Her buttons loosened. Melissa's fingers touched the bare trembling flesh of her tits. Her nipples were stiff and the young girl's fingers found them in no time, began to squeeze the sensitive little tips in rhythmic, knowing fashion.

Melissa's tongue retreated and she rolled over onto her back. Sheila moved up, taking the initiative. Her shirt came loose. She fought free of it, came down upon Melissa bare to the waist, and there was an electric shock as her naked tits came into contact with Melissa's. Four stiff nipples, four eager tits. And a mouth that was only too willing to accept Sheila's tongue, to suck it happily while lips and tits rubbed together and excitement roared like a blast furnace inside Sheila's hungry body.

They came apart slowly. Sheila's lips hurt, she'd kissed the girl with such intensity. She sat up, rubbing her mouth, looking at Melissa, wondering what all this meant. Melissa sat up too and she brushed Sheila's nearest breast with the back of her hand. The nipple wobbled as she stroked it, and Sheila could hardly breathe.

Melissa was beaming with smiles. "Did you like that?" she asked. Sheila blushed. "Was it more fun than watching me and Lou last night?"

"What…"

"I saw you peeking out the window," Melissa added, leaning in closer. She licked Sheila's neck, and then her tongue glided down Sheila's breast, onto the reddish peak of one nipple. She flicked it twice, then pulled it into her mouth and sucked. There could be no faking in the smooth, efficient action of her lips. She knew what she was doing and she enjoyed it. So did Sheila.

"Really," Melissa said, lifting her face and looking into Sheila's brown eyes, "I could tell the moment I first saw you. You don't cover your emotions too well. When I closed the fridge door and you were standing there looking at me, well, you were eating me with your mind. And you didn't take your eyes off me once last night, not even when your sister was crying her heart out. Do I turn you on?"

"A hell of a lot," Sheila whispered. "A whole hell of a lot."

"The girl in the picture," Melissa said, pointing. "Did you use to have a thing with her? I thought so. You painted her as if you loved her. I wish somebody loved me that much, you know? But people just want to fuck me. Are you nice? Really nice, I mean? Or do you just want to fuck me too?"

"I – yes, I'm nice," Sheila said softly. She put her hands on Melissa's tits and squeezed. God, the ripeness, the firmness; the heat of the pink nipples against her palms! "And yes I want to fuck you, too. I want you so badly I can taste you right now – all over my face, as if you're already feeding me on your pussy – I…"

Melissa stood, looking down at Sheila. "And I can feel your tongue in me," she said, rubbing her slit until it sparkled. Little drops of cum were oozing from her crack. Sheila could see them, smell them, almost taste them. "I bet you're good," Melissa added. "I bet you're good at everything you do. Show me, Sheila. Show me how good."

"Come here, Goddamn it," Sheila husked, and she seized Melissa's legs. Lifting herself, she thrust her face into Melissa's crotch. Her hands preceded her, split the hairless crack, made room for Sheila's hot ready tongue. She speared into Melissa and she heard the girl moan in delight, but she couldn't be half so delighted as Sheila was, getting her first sweet taste of Melissa.

Slowly they came down again, Sheila on her back, Melissa sitting on her face. Sheila had an entire pussy to work with, and it was the pussy of her dreams. She opened it, marveled at the coral pink interior, at the slippery texture of the folds of flesh inside Melissa's gates, at the redness of the clitoral button that was already erect and hot for the fray. Leaning up, she anointed the clit with her tongue, felt it quiver against her, felt the shudders of joy run through Melissa's entire body. She squeezed the girl's ass and started to eat pussy.

Melissa leaned forward, pressing her twat down upon Sheila's face. "God," the blonde panted, "you are good at everything! Eat me, darling! Eat me up! Chew me raw! Stick your tongue in my twat! Oh, lick me, lick me, lick me! Suck me sweet and I'll come all over your pretty face! My God, Sheila, eat me, eat me, eat meeeeeee!"

As for Sheila, she was eating, and it was better even than she had dreamed it could be. The blonde girl's cunt was delicious, young and fresh and tangy, and her tongue found new taste treats everywhere it roamed. The tube was snug around her tongue and she loved that. She worked one hand loose from Melissa's ass, got it into the girl's sweet young snatch from behind, and she poked home with a lustful vengeance. Atop her, Melissa quivered and moaned, and Sheila knew that she wasn't the only one enjoying this magic moment. Oh, God, she thought, it's really happening! No matter how the rest of my life goes, I've had this. And I'll never ever forget it!

Melissa rocked back, until she was lying atop Sheila's tall, lean body, her taut-fleshed legs on either side of Sheila's head, her pussy jammed against Sheila's eager mouth. Sheila rammed her tongue into Melissa, then reached up, and took hold of the girl's jiggling tits. They were hard with excitement, the nipples an inch long and fat as pinky fingers. Sheila squeezed the nipples, squeezed until Melissa throbbed and shook atop her, and she kept her tongue busy, in and out the vagina, up to bathe the clit in hot saliva, back down to the hole again. Everything was so delicious she didn't know where to lunch next. She wanted to eat that cunt hole, to chew it up and digest it and absorb it into her own system so she could keep it with her always.

"Suck me sweet," Melissa panted. "Oh, you're doing it, Sheila! You're eating me! Nobody eats like another woman, do they? Nothing tastes like a pussy? I want to smother you with my cunt! I want to get your whole head into me! I want to pull you up my snatch and never let you go! Your tongue, baby! Use your fucking tongue! Fuck me with your motherfucking tongue! Slurp, slurp! Ohhhhhh – wowwwwww…"

Her pussy was responding like a well-tuned engine. When Sheila wasn't burying her face in the sweet hairless crack, that sweet hairless crack was thrusting at her face, cooze juice leaking from the slit, thick and tart and as addictive as good wine. Sheila's face was already soaked, from sweat and cooze juice, but she wanted more. Oh, God, she wanted everything!

Melissa jerked her pussy back, and Sheila couldn't raise her face high enough to follow. Melissa rolled off Sheila, turned around fast, threw herself down upon the supine girl, began to kiss her mouth hungrily, using lips and tongue and teeth. "I can taste me," she said. "I can taste me all over you." Her tongue shot into Sheila's mouth and Sheila sucked as vigorously as she'd nursed Melissa's clit. At the same time Melissa's hands were on Sheila's body, ravishing her tits, sliding down her belly, fighting with the button of Sheila's tight jeans. "Come loose, Goddamn it," Melissa growled, and the button opened and her hand thrust inside.

She slid beneath the waistband of Sheila's panties, fingers burrowing through Sheila's little jungle of dark pubic hair. Sheila's twat was leaky with hot juice too, and Melissa's fidgety fingers only increased the flow.

"Hair," Melissa sighed. "I like to nuzzle in hair. Get your pants off. Let's eat each other. You can lick me with no hair and I can wallow in your fluff. Okay?"

Did she have to ask? My God, Sheila thought, does she have to fucking ask? She lifted her ass and Melissa pulled down pants and panties in one quick motion, baring Sheila to the ankles. The shoes had to come off before Sheila could be stripped totally, and it was hard getting the shoes off because Sheila's toes were curled tightly, tense with excitement.

But the shoes fell away, and Melissa was grunting heavily as she jerked off Sheila's pants, and then both of them were naked, two glowing female bodies hot with desire and lust. She stared at Sheila's twat, her eyes glittering as she drank in the loveliness of the curling hairs. Sheila was just as turned on by Melissa's hairless twat. To each her own, she thought, her hand sliding up and down Melissa's smooth tanned thigh. The girl was tanned to the same shade of new penny copper all over, a tribute to the California sun and a landmark to Sheila's arousal. Sheila's hand worked up the inside of Melissa's leg and the fingers came to rest on the girl's puffy bare cuntal mound. The flesh was blazing hot, or so it felt to Sheila's excited fingers, and the slice dripped sticky juices. Sheila worked her fingers in that goo, then started to punch one into Melissa's hole.

"Right," Melissa said. "It's time to play!" She cupped Sheila's mound, squeezed it. "Hair tickles," she announced with a girlish giggle. "I shaved mine when I was working at the massage parlor. The customers really get off on it. Maybe I'll let the fuzz grow out again."

"I like it this way," Sheila husked. "I really get off on it, too."

Melissa giggled, and she arranged herself over Sheila, pussy to face. As her hairless twat settled down on Sheila's mouth, the auburn-haired girl thought, a massage parlor. A split-beaver centerfold model. I have picked myself a slut this time, and that's for sure! And isn't it what I was looking for? A girl to roll in garbage with? "Come here," she murmured to the descending pussy and her tongue lifted to kiss it hello…

Something kissed her own pussy at almost the same instant. It was Melissa's mouth, Melissa's wet hungry mouth, covering Sheila's entire cuntal bulge, sucking hard. Sheila moaned, her mouth full of hot hairless twat, and she began to writhe. She was so juiced-up that it wouldn't take much to set her coming, but there would be more. God, if she had to, she'd rip up a canvas or two and make little ropes to bind Melissa hand and foot! Keep her out here the whole Goddamned day, rape her as thoroughly as any woman had ever been raped in this world's history!

Melissa sucked cunt, and then she relaxed the pressure, causing Sheila to groan in a mixture of joy and sadness. It only lasted for a second. Melissa opened Sheila's snatch and started to lick her way in and out, and it was obvious she knew what she was doing. I'm not the first cooze she's eaten, Sheila told herself. How many others had there been? Little pangs of jealousy shot through her. She hated the idea of other women having known Melissa, of that sweet darting tongue flitting in and out of other women's cunts. But I had her now, Sheila thought, taking a death grip on Melissa's ass, squashing the hairless snatch down against her hungry mouth. I have her and I'm not going to let her go! Not until I'm good and ready. And I may never be that ready.

Fingers stabbed into Sheila, little fingers but agile fingers, sharp punching fingers that clearly knew their way around a pussy. At least, Sheila rationalized, I don't have to educate her, the way I did with Lucy and Janice. We're not starting from scratch. We're equals, in a way, this young girl and I. And the best way to prove we're equals, the best way to show her I know what I'm doing too, is…

Her tongue raced up into Melissa's rippling snatch and she felt the eager play of muscles inside the sweet-scented pussy. Hot drippings smeared her face, coated her raging tongue. Melissa's clit was up, big and eager, the biggest clit Sheila had ever seen, a thrill to behold, a treat to suck, a privilege to make love to. She washed it with her tongue and she sucked it and she loved it, and she felt Melissa's excited pulse thump through the clitoral nub, hammering against the tip of her tongue. Another flood of sticky girl-goo oozed from Melissa and wettened the ball of Sheila's chin. Reluctantly she left off clit sucking and scooped low with her tongue, hungry for those juices. She drank them avidly and her tongue worked inside, lapping up still more and more and more of Melissa's come cream. And this was only the preliminary! When Melissa orgasmed, there would be a flood of juice in which Sheila could easily drown. But what a way to die!

Had Melissa really seen her last night? Had Melissa been aware of Sheila's desire from the moment of their first meeting? It seemed incredible, almost impossible to believe, but it had to be true. And had she come up here today only to watch Sheila paint, or had she come up here precisely to be seduced? On the other hand, who had seduced whom? The initiative had been Melissa's, right from the start. In all her other relationships Sheila had made the first move. Maybe this indicated that her luck was beginning to change? God, she hoped so! If anyone needed a change of luck…

But it would not be. Even as she drank the flowing honey of Melissa's twat, Sheila knew that it was hopeless. In its way, it was worse than the passion she'd been nursing since last evening. She was getting Melissa, sure, but what was she getting? Melissa was Lou's girl. This could be nothing more than a one-afternoon-stand, to turn a phrase. Two hot women, come together for an hour's passion, and when they parted, it would be forever. Sheila's heart began to deflate. There was a God and he was punishing her in the most vindictive fashion possible. He was giving her a taste of paradise, but he would also take it away and she could only hunger and pine for all time to come, aching for one more sip of the manna that dripped, not from heaven, but from something much better – the crack of Melissa's pink petaled pussy.

Sheila grabbed the blonde girl's lovely ass and her fingers dug into the firm but yielding curves and she thrust up with her tongue, sucking honey from Melissa's cooze as if pussy were going out of style tomorrow and she needed to get more than her greedy share today.

It was good. Jesus, it was so good! Better even than she'd dreamed it could be. Her fantasies had been only fantasies. She had never guessed that they might be capable of fulfillment. All last night Sheila had lusted and hungered and yearned and felt sorry for herself. She had taunted her mind with the unattainable image of Melissa, the epitome of all her dreams and hungers. And now she was in possession of Melissa, and she knew how sweet dreams could be, how gratified a body could feel when hungers were fed. She worked her tongue in and out of the tight sweet crack, and she felt magic things take place in her own twat. Melissa had a tongue like an angel, and if those fingers of hers were artistic in no other fashion, they were talented when it came to pronging and stroking a hot, horny cunt.

"I'm going to come," Sheila moaned. "I'm going to come all over you, Melissa darling! Put your tongue in me! Lick me while I come!"

"Mmmmm," Melissa giggled, and her tongue oozed up Sheila's twitchy tube. She went deep – it was surprising that her tongue could be so long, but Sheila had the proof, a mile up her snatch – and as her tongue slid across the lust-maddened flesh, it began to erupt in ripples and convulsions of orgasm. Sheila screamed around Melissa's pussy and she pulled her knees back, entrapping that beautiful slutty blonde face where it belonged, between her legs, glued to her climactic cunt.

And then, like magic, Melissa groaned and began to come as well. How often did that happen? Sheila wondered. Two women in a spontaneous love act, both of them coming at almost the same instant? She hummed into Melissa's cunt and the juices oozed forth, drenching her face, drowning her in lust. She lapped into them and her tongue scooped up the liquid love and it was beautiful, it was dynamite, it proved that even a loser could win – at least once. Sobbing with joy and the sense of what she was about to lose forever, Sheila ate Melissa's orgasm, fed Melissa her own cum. Legs clutched heads, hands clutched asses, tongues dove in and out of churning, excited pussies, and two bodies finally collapsed together in the grass, passion spent for the moment.

"Where do you live?" Melissa asked, chewing on a blade of grass. She lay in Sheila's arms and Sheila was toying with her breasts, teasing the sweet fat nipples, enticing them to become erect once again so they could be kissed and sucked. "I mean," she said, stretching, "do you stay here all the time, or what?"

"I live in Darien," Sheila said. "In Connecticut. It's not far from New York. I'm just down here to visit my sister. And, well, to forget somebody. Her. The girl in the picture."

"New York, wow," Melissa sighed. "I've never been to New York. Is it nice there?"

"It can be," Sheila agreed. "Maybe Lou will take you up."

Melissa giggled. "Lou? What for? Don't you have eyes? He's got something else in mind." Sheila didn't understand. "Her. Caron. He wants her back. I don't blame him, really. She's a very sexy lady. He showed me a picture of her, from back when they were married, and I couldn't believe it's the same person. This morning he told me to get lost, said he was going to try a reconciliation."

"Oh, my God," Sheila whispered. "He wouldn't dare."

"Yes he would. And…" Melissa looked at the sun, "he probably has. He can be very forceful when he wants something. And he wants Caron."

"It'll never happen," Sheila said. She squeezed Melissa's tits. She didn't want to talk about Lou and Caron or anything else. She wanted to make love again, before Melissa waked out of her life forever.

Melissa wriggled free, walked over to the easel. "Isn't that what's his name's car?" Sheila got up, peered over the edge of the bluff. It was Paul's truck, coming across the causeway to the island. He had the divorce papers with him and Caron was only too anxious to sign them, to get rid of Lou. Sheila felt tension in her belly. If she wanted to make it with Melissa again, she'd have to do it now. Once the papers were signed, Caron was going to throw Lou's ass out of the house. And if Lou went, so did Melissa. Sheila put her arms around the young blonde girl, pulled her back from the edge of the hill. "Come here," she said, "I want to kiss you again."

"Where do you want to kiss me?" Melissa asked coyly, puckering her lips. At the same time her hand slid down her belly and she parted the hairless lips of her snatch. Sheila stood panting, watching, unsure how to answer the question. Sighing, she sank to her knees and planted her mouth on Melissa's belly, just below the navel. It eased downward, onto the puff of pussy, and her tongue scraped the parted, inviting labia. The girl's clit was still erect, a pulsating little nubbin against Sheila's tongue. Sheila licked it once, found she couldn't take her tongue away. Melissa took hold of Sheila's head, began to wiggle against Sheila's face, just as she'd wiggled in her dance last night. Only this time, Sheila thought, she's doing it for me and for me only. She sucked the clitoris, felt its eager throb between her lips, and her eyes went misty with tears I can lose her and live, she thought. It won't be the first time. But it won't hurt any the less.

Melissa settled down. She knocked over the easel and its blank canvas board, the one Sheila had set up when Melissa asked to be painted. It didn't matter. The sun blazed down from overhead and Melissa felt its rays kissing her body, kissing her everyplace Sheila wasn't already kissing her. She basked in the sun and the love, and she basked in the glow of Sheila's attention. It was nice, being with somebody who really seemed to dig you. Not just as a body, as a person, too. The sex was good, but the vibes were even better. And she got dynamite from Sheila Ross. Especially now, with a tongue on her clit.

Melissa's hand slid lazily across the ground. The paint box had spilled too, and there were tubes and stuff all over. She sifted through them, enjoying the way the fat smooth tubes felt against her fingers, until her sense of touch told her she'd located a paintbrush. Melissa turned her head, baked at it. A long handled brush with a wide flat set of bristles. She stroked them against her arm. Stiff, but not harsh. Sorta like Lou's moustache. Mmmmmmm! She remembered how that moustache felt, wiggling across her shaven snatch. She looked at Sheila's naked legs, spilling across the grass. Smooth, brown legs, slender and shapely. Pleasant to touch, even more pleasant to feel, wrapped around her face. Melissa began to slide the bristles of the paintbrush up and down Sheila's legs, paying close attention to the backs of the thighs. The way Sheila wiggled around and kinda purred into Melissa's twat signaled to Melissa that it was indeed an idea, and a very good one. She tickled a little harder, scraping flesh, and the brush moved into Sheila's crotch.

"Oh, God!" That was Sheila, first being touched on the pussy by the paintbrush. Melissa worked it vigorously at the fleshy little lips, not trying to get inside. Not yet, at least.

Sheila rolled over, face flushed with excitement. "What are you doing?" she asked. Melissa held up the brush. Sheila giggled. "I never thought of using it for that!" she said.

"Show you a better one," Melissa replied. "C'mon, open 'em! Let me into that little honeypot of yours. Mmmmm! I can still smell the cum all over your cunt. Makes my tummy growl. I think I'm hungry."

Melissa lay down on the ground between Sheila's widespread legs, the brush in her hand. "Open up, you tight little bugger," she told the pussy, and Sheila reached down to lend her assistance. The gates parted, and Melissa moved in, holding the paintbrush, bristly end out.

"Ohmygod!" Sheila squealed as the bristles touched her clit. She jumped and her face went red and her nipples popped out in excitement. Melissa rubbed again, and Sheila's head began to swim. "Don't do that," she said. "You're driving me crazy." But she said it like an invitation, and Melissa kept on stroking. Sheila lay back holding her snatch wide, and the constant flutter of camel's hair across her love button was incredible, stimulating, total fucking dynamite!

She sat up, panting, grabbed the brush from Melissa, threw the younger girl back onto the grass and zeroed in on Melissa's crotch. "Ooohhhhhh!" Melissa shrieked as Sheila repaid her in very good kind, scratching rings round the blonde's big, luscious clit.

A delightful shade of pink suffused Melissa's privates, and Sheila couldn't stand it. She threw the brush over her shoulder and went in with mouth open. Her tongue ravished Melissa, lapping and prodding until the girl was gushing in orgasm, and then she lay back, propped on her elbows, legs spread, ready, ready, ready! And so was Melissa, who mouthed in on Sheila's snatch as if it were a steak, smothered in gravy and fragrant onions. It couldn't last long, Sheila thought, guiding a head that needed no guidance, but it could be beautiful while it lasted.

"What's it like in Darien, Connecticut?" Melissa wondered. She was toying with her towel, alternately shielding and baring her body. Sheila had her clothes on, but, watching Melissa, she wished she was still naked, that they could go around at least one more time. Before – before it had to end. Because it did have to end. Her heart twinged inside her at the thought, but twinging hearts couldn't mask the truth.

"It's – a place. Artists, writers, musicians. Rich people. Not too many poor people. Long Island Sound. Not too far from the Berkshires. That's where I painted the pictures you were looking at last night, in the house. I have a small house in a very quiet, spread-out suburb."

"Mmmm, sounds nice," Melissa said, coming close. "Really small house? Just big enough for one?"

Sheila couldn't believe what she was hearing. "N-no. It's empty for one person living alone, nicer with two, but…"

Melissa put her arm around Sheila. Those big naked tits nudged Sheila's cheek, and Sheila turned her face, trembling. She clutched the girl's breasts, squeezed them together, burying her face between them.

"What I was thinking," Melissa added, "is that maybe I might come up and see you sometime, after you go back to Darien, Connecticut."

Sheila looked up. "But Lou…"

"Lou doesn't own me. I'm with him but I don't belong to him. Anyway, he has other fish to fry. And so do I. I'd really like to fry your fish, if you know what I mean?" She giggled. "I'm tired of being a piece of ass. When I'm with you, I feel like I belong to something, you know? Like we're both part of some kind of bigger thing, but we have to get it together, see, because otherwise we're just a couple of people – I'm not very good at saying things. Am I making any sense at all?"

Sheila nodded, and she began to cry. Her salty tears spilled onto Melissa's big warm boobs. One teardrop glistened at the tip of Melissa's nearest nipple. It shone like silver in the sunlight.

She tried to think. Paramount in her thoughts was the fact that Melissa had just brought up the question of a relationship, had more or less asked if one was possible. Oh, God, it was possible! It was more than possible! It was what Sheila wanted, more than anything else in the whole Goddamned world! But – did she dare? Again? So soon?

She looked up, into Melissa's liquid gemlike eyes. They were simple eyes, the kind of eyes she went crazy for. But could she depend on them? How soon before Melissa pulled up stakes and moved on? How soon before her heart was broken again?

But she had to take the chance. Maybe this time it would be real for both of them. Maybe Melissa had hit it directly on the head, that line about two people and both of them part of a bigger something that encompassed the pair of women, something that made them both complete when they were together. Maybe this time. And she'd never know unless she tried. "Yes," Sheila said, "yes I think that would be nice. I want you to come home to Darien with me and live with me and love me. Please?"

Melissa sat back, beaming. Sheila looked away, saw the portrait of Claire lying on the ground. Now far away was the pen knife she kept in her paint box, spilled out with the rest of her art supplies. She picked up the painting, the knife, and she began to cut the canvas into little pieces. "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single footstep," she said. Was that for Melissa's benefit or for her own? She didn't know. She slashed until the painting was a ruin, and then she threw down the torn pieces and turned, smiling, to her new love.