Chapter 8
Susan Warwick shivered as the hand coasted up her thigh to roughly squeeze the springy nether cheek of her pantied bottom.
"Ult, please professor," she protested, edging slightly away from the seated man.
Professor Karl Bettinger, Chairman of the Pompeyo Art department, was one of the most distinguished men of letters on the campus, and from Susan's point of view, quite possibly the most lecherous.
It seemed that every time she entered his office, she soon became involved in a little skirmish that all but fell short of being chased around the desk. For an educated, cultured man, he seemed to lose control of himself pretty quickly, his opening playful passes growing increasingly intimate until they were impossible to ignore.
The teasing twinkle in his eye would disappear as his eyes would narrow intent and feverish, his face would flush, his breathing growing ragged and heavy. Inevitably, he would sink back in his chair mollified, sullen, suddenly weary and a bit ashamed of himself. Then there would be the apologies which Susan, playing the good sport, would always graciously brush off. After all, he was her boss- The game had been getting a bit hard to play lately. Susan was generally horny enough as it was. Working at a place like Pompeyo campus would keep any warm-blooded woman a bit itchy in the panties, especially in the spring time.
Then again, fighting off passes wasn't something she was used to doing, nor was particularly good at. The way Susan played ball, by the time the guy started making passes, she had usually managed to work things to a position where she could graciously accommodate those passes. Too often she had left Bettinger's office on shaky legs, her panties wet with cunny djphble. And that was most unsatisfactory. In short, when it came to sexing, Susan didn't like to play around.
She figured that Bettinger's problem was probably that he simply didn't get any. She could sympathize with that. After all, there was the other side of the coin; the chicks at Pompeyo no doubt kept the men's pants pretty itchy, too. As well, she was aware of the dynamite effect her short-hemmed skirts could have, such as the micro-mini she sported today.
Bettinger was very European in some ways and for his age, late fifties, he was still a rather attractive man. He dressed well, cutting a robust figure and his full head of hair had turned a very distinguished shade of silver. He was a bit far from the youth culture of Pompeyo, but he still managed to keep well abreast of the changes. And he also had some idea of what went on between the faculty members of his department.
So Susan took his playfulness lightly. All in all, she liked her boss and wanted to keep things relaxed between them. If only he wouldn't get so out of hand. Once she had come close to slapping him, but had fortunately thought better of it. She could usually outlast him.
"Please professor," she said, brushing a possessive hand from her buttock. "I have a lot of work today. If you could run down those memos quickly, I'd appreciate it."
Ignoring his hand was usually the best tactic. Today though, it wasn't working very well. She was uneasy, a bit on edge. Her boyfriend was out of town, and Dale had been evading her lately. She had just resisted the impulse a few minutes earlier to diddle herself on the toilet seat in the ladies' room, and now this.
She was sure her face was reflecting her agitation. She could feel that slippery slickness in her panties. Damn it anyway! Why had she been stuck in such a hot body?
"Now really, Miss Warwick," he cajoled, teasingly. "That you should talk about time. I must be one of the busiest men on campus, but when my lovely secretary comes to pay me a visit, I give her all the time and attention I can."
"You certainly do," said Susan, unable to repress a smile as she again evaded a creeping hand.
Ignoring the interdepartmental memos, for which Susan had been called up to prepare, Bettinger sat back in his chair, a twinkle in his eye, a curious smile playing across his face.
"Tell me, Susan, and please, don't patronize," he said. "What do you really think of me anyway? Am I just a dirty old man to you?"
"W-why, certainly not, Mr. Bettinger," Susan replied, a bit taken back by his question.
"Really now, Susan. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. After all, you're one of the few people in this department I don't have to relate to on some kind of stuffy, silly academic level. That kind of thing gets rather deadly day in and day out, if you know what I mean."
Susan was quite willing to be honest with him, yet wondered what it was he was after. He seemed to be pursuing something.
"Well frankly, I get rather annoyed sometimes by all the horsing around. But, all in all, I don't mind that much, I guess. It doesn't change my opinion of you. I mean, I can understand. Maybe your wife just can't... " Susan cut herself short, blushing, aware that she might have gone too far.
"Oh, that's all right, Susan," Bettinger said, seeing her embarrassment. He sighed. "It's true. What you were about to say, I mean. Things between my wife and I are pretty well cooled out. Unfortunately, I'm afraid my appetites haven't diminished with my capacity."
"Ill say," Susan giggled.
"Here's something I'll bet you don't know," he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "As of a year ago, I had a mistress."
"Really?" Susan said, shocked by his candidness. Why was he letting her in on this? What was he leading up to? "That must have been pretty risky for a man of your position," she said, trying to respond with appropriate cool.
"It was. But it was worth it, believe me. Anyway, now I'm just a homy old man who's over the hill. It probably wouldn't be so hard on me if I was at some stuffy old university back east, but out here everything is so, so young and vital. I love it, though. It keeps me on my toes."
"You certainly keep me on my toes, professor."
They both laughed at that. Susan felt much more relaxed with him now than she ever had before. When he wasn't putting her off with passes, he could be very interesting, even attractive.
"Tell me, Susan," he continued. "Do you think I'm oblivious to things around here? 'Out of it' as they say?"
"Well, I don't know, professor. How can I tell?"
"Well, some of the faculty members treat me sometimes as if I were, but actually I have a pretty good picture of what goes on around here. For instance, taking Miss Susan Warwick. Well, I've heard about her reputation."
"Oh," she said, blushing. "What reputation is that?"
"Please now," he laughed. "Don't get on the defensive. We both know what I mean anyway. I'm aware that you've been rather intimate with certain members of the faculty."
Susan stammered, clenching her small fists in outrage, unsure whether to walk out or defend herself .
"Well really now, don't get in such a huff. I wouldn't expect anything less from a woman as sexy as yourself and unattached in the bargain. But what I'm really curious about is this swapping thing. Some of the younger professors are involved in it, aren't they?"
"Yes," she said, her momentary anger cooling.
"Well, come on now. This is all off the record, of course. I'm just curious as to how the thing works. It sounds damned fascinating. You don't have to name any names. I've got my own little grapevine, so I've got an idea as to just who's who. But tell me, how do they arrange this sort of thing?"
"Well," she began, "it's pretty simple as long as nobody's uptight Word gets around and if a couple finds another couple attractive enough, they simply set a date. Sometimes more than two couples are involved, though singles are generally excluded. I don't know what else to say."
"Tell me this, do they actually carry on in the same room, I mean, with more than one person at a time?"
"Why yes, depending on tastes, that kind of thing."
"Fantastic," he muttered, half to himself. "Then, you've been involved in this, this swapping yourself?"
Susan hesitated for a moment, but recognized the simple curiosity in his friendly eyes. What the hell, she thought.
"Yes, from time to time I have."
He sighed and sat back. "Well, more power to you. I only wish some of these things had been going on when I was in my prime," he sighed. He looked up at her keenly. "I suppose you think I'm a rather pedantic, harmless old fool for all this, eh?"
"Why, no, not at all," she replied, suddenly feeling a wave of pity for him.
"Well," he said, smiling to himself. 'There was a time when I wasn't quite so ineffectual."
An idea that had always playfully lingered in the back of Susan's mind, a fantasy picture she had always toyed with but had somehow assumed was too remote from real possibility . It began to take hold, began to enter that realm of possibility. Why not?
'That shouldn't have to change with age."
"Well, call it what you will; lack of spark, lack of opportunity. It does change."
"In your case," said Susan, slightly lowering her tone of voice, "there's no lack of spark. But what if you did have an opportunity, a real one?"
"Like what?" he said, on the verge of gloom.
"Like right here and now."
"What?" his head shot up. "W-what do you mean?"
She was beginning to like the idea now. Yes indeed, why not? "What I said," Susan replied calmly, meeting his gaze with a sultry directness, "right here and now, with me."
His mouth flew open aghast. "Have you gone mad?"
"No more than usual," Susan laughed. She glanced at the clock-a little after twelve. What a novel way to spend a lunch break! She moved to his office door and locked it. "Don't worry," she said coolly, "everyone in the office is out to lunch now and they'll expect you to be gone, too."
"But I have an appointment for lunch. I "
"Fuck the appointment."
"What?" he started to get up. "Susan, wait. Our discussion, I was only... " She whirled around to face him, a smile playing on her full, sensual hps.
"Sit down, Karl," she said, calling him that for the first time. "I'm going to give you the change to make good all those passes."
He froze, his face mirroring his complete awe and disbelief as the voluptuous redhead began to boldly unbutton her blouse. She could see it in his expression. He couldn't believe it was really happening, his fantasies come true.
She slipped the blouse out of her skirt and tossed it over on a nearby chair. Her big, upthrusting breasts burned in the fabric of her brassiere. She was enjoying this strip tease as much as him. Maybe he'd have a lovely big cock to thrill her even more.
She thrust her bosom out as she reached behind to undo her bra catch. She let the straps slip off her shoulders and let the skimpy undergarment drop to the floor as her naked boobs thrust out dramatically, their tips tingling with the thrill of exposure.
She heard him gasp. From the look on his face, she thought he was either going to faint or explode.
She unzipped her skirt and let it puddle at her feet. She saw his eyes as he ogled the beautiful stretch of her thighs and loins through the sheerness of her pantyhose. His fear and self-doubt was gradually giving way to lust, just as she knew it would.
Slowly, with special regard to their slinky sexiness, she drew the pantyhose down, enjoying the sensation as she stripped them off her legs for him. Tha left only her panties, thin and black, lacy edged, clingingly tautly to the full blown curves of her hips and crotch like a second skin.
She looked at the professor and smiled. His expression had turned to a leer, and to her delight, Susan noticed a nice sized bulge in his trousers. Suddenly, he looked very capable indeed. Susan shivered, nude and naughty in her sexy black panties. Oh, what fun!
"Well, don't just stand there, take your clothes off!"
Without a word, his face flushed and puffed, he began to tear off his clothes, almost beside himself with excitement, flinging them carelessly about him until he was reduced to a pair of blue silk boxer shorts, tented nicely by a king-sized erection. Susan was surprised at his body, lean and well muscled, without a trace of fat. He obviously exercised. A silver patch of hair trailed down from his chest to the top of his shorts. Susan felt a dribbling in her panties as she crossed the room.
His whole frame was quivering with lust as she approached him. She could see the eagerness and disbelief in his eyes and was fully aware of the effect her stunning body was having on him.
"You're beautiful, Susan," he gasped. "More lovely than I would have dreamed."
He was getting a bit carried away, she thought, but let him. After all, a man as obviously well-endowed as him must have a hard time adjusting to and compensating for the sexual deprivation his age and position caused him. Susan knew she could probably give him the time of his life and secretly thrilled to the thought that she had this power over him.
She stood before him now, her breast tips quivering before the heaving rise and fall of his chest, his prick tent only inches from the inviting bulge of her pantied-puss. Only inches.
She was tantalizing him this way for he hesitated, seemingly unable to act, to lift his hands.
Susan lowered her eyes to the throb and beat of his maleness under the thin blue silk and suddenly realized her need for him had suddenly grown very real, very urgent.
"I want you," she hissed.
"I want you, Susan," he said, his voice quivering.
Slowly, almost as if in pain, he extended his arms and encircled her waist. She curved 'upwards against him, then, gasping at the rock-hard rigidity of his maleness which burned against her belly. Oh, he had a terrific prick!
Her nipples burned against his chest as he groaned with the searing shock of contact. She wondered how long it had been for him.
His head lowered timidly and Susan closed the gap, raising her mouth to his. His kiss was like a boy's at first; shy, reluctant, yet questing and hungry for the sensuality he had learned to live without.
Susan wound her tongue around his then, taking the lead, buzzing it in his mouth until his shyness gave way to a kind of longing fierceness and he was returning her kiss with equal fervor.
She reached between their bodies then, eager and curious for the feel of his maleness. Her finger touched then clutched the hard knot of his cock. She stroked her fingers back and forth over it, exulting at the surprising heat and resiliency beneath the blue silk.
"Like that, Karl?" she purred.
"Shit," he croaked.
"I must say for a man of your age, you haven't lost much down here!" She emphasized her words with a hard squeeze of her fingers. "Let's see the big beauty," she panted.
She delicately undid the snaps of his shorts, then reached inside and drew out his quivering stinger. It was even longer than she thought! She pumped on it, sliding* the foreskin back and forth in a maddening friction as the man wavered on his feet Oh, it was a nice, big cock and Susan knew she'd enjoy every inch of it. The younger faculty members certainly had nothing on this old buck!
He had recovered sufficiently to begin a little exploring of his own and Susan writhed voluptuously as his hands slid down her back and caressed the warm silken snugly packed seat of her panties. She was surprised by his touch, manly and sensual, gauging her in an arousing manner. That mistress of his must have taught him a few things, Susan thought. Yes, he would be good and certainly wouldn't need to be led by the hand.
On impulse, she suddenly sank to her knees, sliding her hands along his firm thighs as she descended.
"Susan____"
"Yes, Karl. Let me. I want to."
He trembled as she hauled down his shorts, freeing his genitals to her view. His balls were swollen and pendulous, probably overloaded, she thought.
His pecker soared long and free, bone hard. She pushed back the foreskin, baring the throbbing pink head. It looked good enough to eat.
She kissed, gently along the side of his prick with a feather touch, then began playfully running her tongue over the tip of his cockhead.
His body stiffened and she decided to dispense with the preliminaries. She took his cockhead and at least half of his smooth shaft into her mouth with a sudden swooping bob of her head. He groaned blissfully as she began to suck on it heatedly, jiggling and rubbing his nuts with practiced fingers.
The aged professor reeled on his feet, moaning aloud with intense delight. Susan's mouth worked relentlessly on him, bobbing her head up and down, her lips claiming him with the ardor and finesse of an experienced cocksucker. The professor began to twist and lunge with his hips, building up steam, jerking and jamming his aching tool deep into her throat as Susan gurgled with cock-sucking delight. She felt the beat and throb of him and knew he was on the verge.
"Susan," he wheezed, "I'm, I can't____" No, he mustn't. She wanted this dork, hard and slick in her itching tunnel.
She drew her mouth away quickly and stood up as the professor tottered on the edge of release. With a single swift motion, the luscious redhead shucked down her pretty little panties, baring her lush red bush to her boss' glazed eyes. Cocksucking always turned her on fierce. She was ready for it now!
"Here," she panted, "over here on the desk."
She hoisted herself up on the edge of the dean's smooth-topped mahogany altar, writhing her ass on the smooth surface, spreading her thighs, scrubbing her hips with agitated, impatient hands. Bettinger didn't need any further directions.
Susan hissed as he moved between her thighs and his twitching, outstretched penis nudged against the tender folds of her running cunny. She grasped him by the waist with her hands and wrapped her long, svelte legs around his body. Then, with a sudden surprising force, she pulled him forward, drove him inward with a single lunge. She howled as his long hardness skinned the shivery soft portals of her cunt. Oh, he felt delicious!
She began a rapid writhing, rolling motion of her hips on the desk top and her pussy began to literally devour his cockflesh. Bettinger hunched and drove, trying vainly to match her lead. The position was groovy for Susan as it provided maximum friction of his sliding, horny cock against the inflamed nub of her clittie.
"Oh, get it up there! C'mon!"
She was turning into a tigress as she drew near her peak, but she was a little much for the aged dean. His heart was pounding wildly as he tried vainly to match her thrusts, feeling the tell-tale throes of his raging cock as her inner muscles gripped and milked his tender tool. He couldn't hold much longer, any longer.
His body went taut as a bowstring, quaking, quivering, and then he exploded, shooting off his cock with a violence that shocked her. His gun drove his load hard and deep as Susan's hungry cunt gulped it down, hot and creamy.
But she was miles from her fulfillment.
No! No! She wanted to scream, but she checked herself catching the outburst of frustration in her throat. She was only moments from her peak and, oh, shit! She should have known he could have only taken so much of her sucking.
His prick spent, slack, he pushed himself away, staggering, gasping for breath, moaning from the incredible ecstatic exertion.
Susan groaned softly as her body shivered, disappointed, aching. She said nothing, though; She didn't want to hurt him and, after all, he had probably performed quite well for his capabilities.
She slid off the desk top and into her clothes quickly, quietly as the professor slumped nude into his chair.
"I'd better be going now, Mr. Bettinger," she said, forcing herself to smile. "I really enjoyed that."
"Oh Susan," he gasped, waving feebly from his chair. "That-that was so wonderful. Fantastic!"
She kept the smile on her face until she had closed his office door behind her. Damn it anyway!
She headed straight for the ladies room, keenly aware of the wet slinkiness in her panty crotch against her tender cunt and clit. She hoped there would be no one else in the John while she diddled herself in the stall. She wanted to moan her fulfillment aloud! Shit, what a way to~ spend a lunch break!
Ginnie Rogers breezed her sexy form down the row of art department offices. She was ready to carry her little plan to its final stage. So far it had all been working out excellently. The dorm orgies of the last few weeks had succeeded in bringing Rick, Dianne, John, and herself close together in a sharing, grooving foursome, willing to try practically anything for group kicks.
Then there was her own affair with Dale (she had kept quiet about that so far with the others); she'd balled him twice now and had really dug it. She knew he had too and that he was eager for more. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there was Dale's own involvement in swapping, which he had recently related to her.
The way Ginnie figured it, if Dale really dug balling her, and, if he really dug swapping as much as he made out, perhaps he'd be willing to go a step further, to jump that old generation gap with some good timey swapping. The way he had been swinging lately and grooving to it, it seemed likely he would go for the idea. He was the key in any case and Ginnie was betting she was right about him.
She hadn't mentioned her ploy to her own swap mates, though there had been much talk among them about finding a way to swing with some of the faculty members. It was her own little secret and she wanted to handle it her own way. It was kind of a challenge, a test of her seductive, feminine powers, an "ego trip" as her friends might have called it. Ginnie rather enjoyed ego trips.
So when she knocked once and breezily entered Dale Drake's office, she was disappointed to find, instead of the handsome professor, the red-headed department secretary sorting some papers on his desk.
"Yes?" asked Susan icily, making it plain by her expression that Ginnie's entrance had been most out of order. "He's left for the day. Can I do something for you?"
"Uh, well, I wanted to see Professor Drake."
"I gathered that," said Susan. "Do you always come right in without waiting for a reply?"
"Professor Drake and I are good friends," Ginnie replied with annoyance. "It's quite all right with him just how I choose to come into his office."
"Oh, I see," said Susan coolly, her tone implying that she indeed had an idea of just what kind of relationship the professor and his student had.
In fact, she was well aware of Drake's closeness to this stunning blonde. Ginnie had been hanging around the office quite a bit and Susan had spied them leaving once in quite a hurry. She guessed Drake was balling her on the sly and personally wouldn't have minded except that lately Drake hadn't seemed to have any time for her, Susan.
She felt a curious mixture of jealousy and admiration as she eyed the blonde's long luscious body, seductively outfitted in a tight seater and micro-mini skirt. She felt the nagging itch in her panties starting up again.
Ginnie blushed as she felt the redhead's eyes boldly appraising her charms. There was something in her look which frightened Ginnie and yet excited her too. Ginnie flashed on the memory of Susan and Dale in that storage room The picture was still vivid in her mind, the full beauty of the girl's breasts, the exciting revelation as her panties had been pulled down.
The young blonde shut the picture off, surprised at its erotic power in her mind. But she couldn't help thinking also of the redhead's AC-DC reputation. What kind of woman did that?
And so, for a few long silent moments, the two women confronted each other like alley cats, their minds silently working, wondering. Each knew they had shared the same man, each was a bit dazzled by the other's beauty, sensuality. Each felt a typical female enmity, yet at the same time a strange pull, a forbidden mar tism.
Ginnie about to leave, hesitated on an impulse which she dared not consciously acknowledge.
"You know some of the faculty members pretty well, don't you?" she asked the older woman, not quite sure herself what she wanted to know.
Susan smiled, sensing in Ginnie's lingering a desire for something more than small talk. Yes, this blonde certainly was beautiful, beautiful enough to make her pussy tingle. She had frigged herself in the John, but that hadn't really done the trick. She was still on edge from this morning's encounter; she knew she would probably be facing an empty bed tonight unless... did she dare? Here? Now? But then, as she herself had proven this morning, anything was possible at Pompeyo.
"I suppose I do," she replied, her voice suddenly taking on a little warmth.
"I know for a fact you do," said Ginnie cattily, growing bolder.
"Oh," Susan smiled, delighted rather than angered by Ginnie's effrontery. "Why don't you let me in on the big secret then."
"About you and Dale-very busy in that storeroom, weren't you?"
Susan blushed, shocked at this, but she didn't lose her cool. No, this gave her room to work.
"Well then, I suppose you could bribe me into doing all sorts of unspeakable things, eh?"
"No, that's not my game," said Ginnie, her heart beginning to pound with nervous excitement as she met the redhead's cool gaze. "It just makes me wonder."
"About what in particular?"
"Well, I've heard about your reputation-"
"Oh yes, my reputation," laughed Susan. "What would I be without my reputation? And what is it about my reputation that's so fascinating?"
"It surprises me, I guess. You seem kind of, well, straight to me, at least and... "
"Sorry," Susan laughed again. "But clothes, hair, and dope aside, I really don't think straight is an apt word for me."
"Then you are____"
"I am what?" asked Susan, sensing a crucial moment near.
"You do swing, both ways," Ginnie blurted, her heart pounding wildly.
"Um-hmm," Susan smiled, her eyes flashing into Ginnie's.
Ginnie's mind was racing. She knew what would happen now, and she wanted it!
"How-how does it happen?" she asked, her voice quavering.
"Well," said Susan, slowly relishing her position. "Sex is fun, right? And if you're not afraid of your body or who you share it with, you find that there's more than one way to have fun. It's really very simple once you find another woman who turns you on and isn't afraid."
There was a tense, charged silence as Ginnie stood, her senses fluttering, afraid to speak.
"Like you, Ginnie," Susan said softly.
"You, you like me?" she asked weakly.
"I do, very much. And as far as I can tell, you like me. It's that simple, isn't it? Unless you're afraid."
"I-I'm not afraid."
"Well then," said Susan breathlessly, "maybe you'd like me to show you just how much I like you."
"I'd like that, yes," Ginnie whispered, barely audible.
Susan came around the desk then, taking Ginnie's hand and smiling into the blonde's excited, blushing eyes as Ginnie shuddered from the deep, dark thrill of the other woman's touch.
"Let's go to my place, Ginnie," she said simply.
Ginnie and Susan lay in the redhead's bedroom, their bodies still clothed, leaning heavily as the blonde's breasts rose and fell with mounting excitement. Ginnie hardly dared think about what she was doing. It was too overwhelming, too powerful. Her senses, her wild, young body were caught in a fierce whirling whirlpool of forbidden desire and she had long since ceased resisting.
The redhead's bedroom was clearly built for pleasure and clearly spoke of many trysts. The bed was circular and wide in circumference, giving maximum room for any kind of position its users might care to try.
Not only was there a full-length mirror at bed level on the dresser, but there was also one on the ceiling, each providing participants with an excellent view of the proceedings. There was a picture of a nude, well-hung male on the nightstand. It seemed out of place, an intruder to this new, mysterious realm.
As their bodies touched and their emotions began their ascent, neither girl spoke. The heated glances which passed between them, the pressure of their hands and through their bodies as they nestled arousingly against each other, their arms slipped around their waists in a gradually tightening hug that brought their breasts and bellies in fierce contact, were all the communication necessary between them.
Ginnie tilted her head, eyelids fluttering, raising her mouth to the taller girl's lips, expectantly, eagerly. Her hands trembled as they pressed hotly into the base of Susan's spine and the more experienced woman gazed down at the lovely, breathless girl she was holding, studying the desire, the lustful abandonment which was etched on Ginnie's face, observing with triumph, a sense of conquest, the final yielding as Ginnie gave in to her instincts, her deepest longings.
They kissed timidly at first, then Ginnie's mouth opened as Susan's tongue probed, sliding slowly between the blonde's teeth and passing in a searching caress of the other girl's mouth. The delicious wet movement aroused Ginnie to a sudden, overwhelming passion.
She was in Susan's hands now, her hands sliding up and down Susan's back as she shuddered, thrusting her breasts and crotch forward, moaning into her lover's mouth, her lesbian lover.
Susan rucked Ginnie's dress high above her hips as the blonde sobbed and began to drive her hips savagely against Susan's body, feeling the girl's hands fondling her bottom, hungrily shaping her soft buttocks. Her own fingers daringly, instinctively found their way down to Susan's arse, sliding directly under the mini-skirt hem, squeezing tightly as they felt the plump flesh of another woman, covered only by a pair of brief panties, swelling beneath her hands.
Susan rolled atop her then, fired with lust as Ginnie's legs spread in accommodation, jerking up and down to grind her pantied pubis against Susan's as Susan clamped her lusty hps to Ginnie's mouth, driving her tongue deep.
Taunting, teasing until the younger girl panted for breath, Susan becoming possessed, carried away with lust heat. She wanted to dominate this girl, to take her to the limits, maybe beyond them.
Roughly, she shoved Ginnie's sweater to her throat in a fuzzy collar. Ginnie's head rolled from side to side, her long luxurious hair fanning out on the pillow in complete welcome, total surrender to this heated assault.
Susan tore the brassiere away then, thrilling them both, ripping the straps of her fragile pink material as her hands jerked the cups away from Ginnie's breasts. This was the way Ginnie liked to be taken by a man, and the fact that a woman was doing it thrilled her even more.
Ginnie's white bouncy flesh shimmered beautifully, swaying in an irregular to and fro rhythm and Susan closed her hands around them She fondled with relish at the mounds of sleek tit, turning them, pressing her fingers deeply into the resilient flesh, twitching the upper portions of the flesh so that they wobbled about.
"Isn't that what you've wanted, dreamed about?" Susan hissed. "Another woman's hands on your beautiful body, your tits?"
"Oh yes, yes," Ginnie sobbed, her eyes closed in deep ecstasy, her body shuddering beneath the other girl's. Her loins continued to press and rub as Susan shaped her titties.
"Oh, I love it! Please, oh please don't stop!"
Susan had no intention of stopping. She seized a juicy red nipple, twisting it gently around with the fingers of her left hand while the other hand moved to the girl's panties, working the pink briefs over her hips and past her crotch. Ginnie finished the maneuver herself. Wriggling her legs, she fidgeted the little panties until they were slipped over her ankles.
Quickly, impatiently, Susan stripped off her own clothes, leaving only her black panties for dramatic effect as Ginnie slipped off her skirt and sweater. Susan stretched out atop her then and kissed her more passionately than ever, revealing the true depth of her lesbian nature.
Her knowing hands ran down to the other girl's bottom, fondling the cheeks open, delving her fingertips into the warm, dark crease and rubbing them up and down the hot, steamy funnel until they came to the slit of her cunt.
Curling upwards, her forefinger penetrated the slot, feeling its way inside, gently at first as Ginnie quivered and shivered, then suddenly stabbing wickedly in and out, in and out as the blonde moaned blissfully.
Ginnie's body was throbbing beneath her as Susan began to slide her mouth slowly down the front of her body. She paused at each breast to give the pulsing nipples a thorough vigorous suckling and then kissed her way down the trembling flesh of the girl's midriff, past the small indenture of her navel, nosing gradually into her prickly, blonde bush.
Ginnie's feet were drumming violently on the bed in wild anticipation, her thighs fully stretched to expose the raw redness of her aroused pussy. Susan slid her hands under Ginnie's soft ass and lowered her head, closing her hps around the gaping slit and licking very gently, very delicately up and down the tender slash.
With maddening slowness, Susan probed her tongue deeply into the hot, tangy slot of Ginnie's quim. She fondled tenderly at the juicy flaps with her fingers, using, them to pry her pussy open while she sucked it.
Moans of delight, of exquisite pleasure reached her ears as Ginnie felt her sex invaded, as the tingling walls of her cunt Were licked into acute excitement, as she felt the hot lips, hot tongue, hot breath so warm and intimately fused to her cuntal lips, and then Susan seized her clittie.
A little while later, as Ginnie was still wracked from the come down shivers of her incredible, sky-rocketing orgasm, she felt Susan moving above her, until her crotch was directly over Ginnie's face.
"Look at me," she ordered, and Ginnie did, aware that it was her turn now.
The swelling sex lips of Susan's cunt were only inches from her eyes, held tightly in the silken clasp of the girl's panties-a long, thick ridge of flesh that curved from just below the pubis and disappeared beneath the dark half moons of her buttocks. Then, as she watched, Susan began dramatically lowering her panties, slowly, leisurely sliding them downwards, bringing the red, curly hairs of her full triangle into view as Ginnie's head grew dizzy from the scent, the sight, from her own swirling, misty mysterious desire.
"Now you, Ginnie," came the excited whisper, seemingly from far away. "Let's see what you've learned."