Chapter 13
Madge felt as though her bones had melted. She had barely enough strength to keep her arms about Jane's shoulders, her hands slowly caressing the nape of her neck and her lustrous hair. Her skirt was being pushed up, a hand nudging her thighs apart. She let them spread. Fingertips plucked at her panty crotch, drawing it aside, then stroking her downy-furred vulval lips.
While kissing, she felt a smile shape her mouth, and she sighed with pleasure.
Jane whispered, "You aren't scared?"
"No." Her lips formed the words on Jane's tongue. She delighted in the slippery feel of it. All was ease, sweetly voluptuous, except for one nagging doubt in her mind. She whispered, "Jane, I hated you. Could you feel-toward me-well, affection? Love?"
"I can love you, and your husband as well."
"Jane, I don't think I can love-a man."
"Then it's best to love a woman, if you can do that."
The answer seemed marvelously satisfying. Madge smiled and sucked at her lover's mouth, and spread her legs wider as Jane toyed with her pussy lips. She was swimming in a voluptuous pool of warm honey. She wanted it to last forever.
But Jane was pulling her out of it. She had risen and was lifting Madge, saying, "Come with me."
On her feet, Madge felt wobbly. She clung to the other girl, smiling vaguely as they moved. She found herself in the bedroom. She could hardly believe that the night before she had come to the doorway of this room and had seen her husband copulating with this girl. Now she was standing facing her mirror and Jane was undressing her, whipping off her dress, unhooking her bra. Madge saw her sharp, pointed cone breasts exposed. She blushed. Jane peeled her panties down, showing Madge's little blonde mound tuft and her downy crotch lips. She was naked, blushing, yet warm all over and wet between the legs.
Jane said, "Now you must take off my clothes."
Incredibly, Madge did it. Her fingers shook but she got off the white uniform dress, unhooked her bra, and saw those splendid big breasts spill free. She rolled Jane's panties down, baring a pubic bush such as she had never seen, a giant triangle of auburn hair, a curly beard between her legs.
She tried to unhook Jane's garter belt, but her fingers were trembling now. Feeling weak, she sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up Jane's belly to those big breasts, at their pink caps, so large and puffed that Madge's hands would scarcely cover them.
Jane bent over her, breasts hanging out now. She whispered, "Madge, darling, try sucking my nipples. I think you'll like it." She cupped her hand under a breast and brought it to Madge's face. Eagerly now, she moved to it, and licked the stiff peg. There was a taste, sweat perhaps, and a female odor that excited her. She opened her mouth and sucked on the puffed aureole.
A pulse was beating wildly inside her. She grasped Jane's hips and sucked into her mouth all the tit it would hold.
She loved it! At last, drawing off, she whispered, "I can smell you, Jane. Your heat. And I like it. I know my husband has been into you today and I should think your crotch is dirty, but I don't."
With that Jane's hands closed on her head and drew her in toward that sprawl of pubic hair, toward the wet crotch where Madge saw Jane's clit slip out into view, and, yes, she would, she would go in where her husband had been....
She plunged in, her tongue lashing at Jane's pink clit.
The moment she licked into that drooling slit, Madge knew. This was the meaning of those furtive glances in girls' shower rooms, the cause of her unease around certain women. For the very first taste went through her like an electric jolt. The smell drove her wild. Even knowing that her husband had poked his ugly tool into this girl's luscious cunt didn't deter her. She swabbed it with the flat of her tongue. She pressed her puckered lips in and sucked into them the sweet clit, and tugged at it. Her hands roved over Jane's big, satiny buttocks, trembling with excitement.
Jane bowed her legs to make space, and Madge kissed down her slit to the very mouth of her vagina, and slid her tongue up, wagging it and sucking at the runneling juices. She was panting while almost laughing with joy. She loved it! She sucked and gobbled and tongue-whipped Jane's cunt to such a frenzy that her hips began to jerk, and she ground her crotch into Madge's face.
Then Jane groaned, "Darling, I'm cumming. Let me sit down, lie down, I'm collapsing ... She moved to the bed and fell on it, her legs spraddled. Madge climbed on her knees, paused on the foot of the bed looking up between the white nurse's stockings at pinkish thighs spreading outward from that lush split bush, that humid crotch jungle crowding the long, curved slit and the gaping dark, vaginal hole. Jane still wore her garter belt, cutting her belly as she squirmed about, hips grinding, and Madge wanted to remove the garment but her lust was too immediate. She plunged in, throwing Jane's legs up on her shoulders, her mouth yawning and closing on wet-haired pussy lips, sucking, while thrusting her tongue into the juicy feast.
Jane cried, "Darling, I'm cumming. Oh, Madge, dp you like sucking my cunt?"
"I love it," Madge swore, then dug her fingers into Jane's ass-cheeks and tried to hold down the girl as she thrashed over the peak of her orgasm.
When the wildness ended, and Madge realized that she had cum violently, blanking out while lapping cunt, she found herself panting, cradled in Jane's arms, her head on the cushions of her big, wonderful tits.
She raised up and buried her lips in the hollow of Jane's throat, and whispered, "Then I'm a lesbian. I've never cum with a man, only from masturbating, and that never amounted to much. Jane, I'm glad. I'm so glad!"
She felt Jane's hand between her legs. She looked down and saw her fingers brushing about her thighs, around her blonde pubic tuft, down her pussy lips, which looked huge because the hair was little more than down, totally revealing them. Jane pressed them open and Madge's pale pink clit bobbed into view, hotly erect. Jane teased it, and waves of fire flew into Madge's belly, making her gasp. Jane whispered in her ear, "You have such a lovely pussy, darling. Do you want me to go down on it?"
Madge couldn't reply. She was too excited to speak. She felt Jane kiss down her breasts, looked, and saw her lovely face move down, down, into the spread of Madge's thighs, her tongue leaping out long and red and slashing into those blonde-haired lips, spreading them and shooting a firestorm into her belly.
Madge fell back on the bed, seizing her knees and drawing them back wide apart, opening herself to whatever Jane chose to do. Her cum had started, an orgasm so eruptive that she knew that what she had experienced before had been only the beginning.
Madge thought, My God, why didn't I guess that I am a lesbian? If I can have this, I'll never let another ugly cock be shoved into my hole!
Then she felt Jane's tongue come curling up her vagina, and, from then on, it was fireworks, bursts of steam, gushes of juice, crankings of her legs and upward pitches of her hips, huge events, yet so easy, so natural.
She smiled and laughed, and cried with joy, all through the glorious release of her orgasm.
Jonas drove home from the hospital trying to rub the back of his neck while steering with one hand. He was exhausted and his neck ached as though the bones were stretched apart. Still, he felt good. He had removed a difficult tumor and the pathologist had termed it non-malignant. Another life had emerged from his skills.
Curiously, the floor supervisor had sent a note saying that his wife was holding supper for him.
After the night before, catching him screwing Jane, she was holding supper? Unbelievable.
He parked in the driveway by the kitchen door. He went in still rubbing his aching neck. He opened the door and found Madge standing there smiling, holding out a dry martini.
Beside her was Jane Hearne. He gaped at them, too unnerved to take the drink from Madge. They were smiling at him, looking as pleased as two cats who had gotten into the cream pitcher.
He gasped, "What the hell?"
Madge said, "Jane and I have buried the ax, Jonas. Come in, you look exhausted. I'll tell you about my job."
"Job?" Things were moving much too fast-for him. He grabbed his drink from Madge and did justice to it. She took his arm and led him to the living room. Unbelievably, Jane slid her hand into the crook of the other arm. They were behaving like solicitous sisters. They seated him in his armchair, and while Madge freshened his drink, Jane brought his favorite hors d'-oeuvres, canned baby clams and a dip of mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, and horseradish.
He went into a state of shock.
He ate clams and drank dry martinis. Madge said that Jane had talked her into going to work. She had just been on the phone talking to Frieda, who had a dress shop, and she had agreed to sell Madge a partnership. Madge knew clothes; they would do well.
He asked where Madge would get the money. She would hock her jewelry.
He couldn't believe in all this. He noticed that Jane was wearing a fresh uniform dress, yet he had seen her leave the hospital wearing the day's stained and rumpled one. He asked about it. Simple. They had thrown Jane's dress into the washer.
His wife and his girlfriend were suddenly, incredibly, like sisters.
Maybe he drank too many dry martinis. He lost track of events. He found himself at the table eating rare roast beef and drinking Burgundy wine. The girls were doing a lot of talking. They kept giggling together. What the hell?
Madge, his wife, was saying to him, "Jane will stay overnight. It's too late for her to go home."
None of this made sense. But what the hell, the beef was delicious, the wine glorious, and the hours of exhausting tension over the operating table left him, and he felt giddily, foolishly tight. Not drunk, just perfectly relaxed and inclined to laugh at everything the girls said. They were really entertaining, witty as all hell. Or so it seemed.
At some point during this fine evening he told them, "Carson went home tonight. Liz has a date with him. Madge, this was a college boy with genitals you wouldn't believe. Well, he was fun, and Liz Kelly says she'll marry him if the organ we witnessed on the operating table functions properly."
Not long after he told them about Carson and Liz, they decided it was his bedtime.
His wife, Madge, told him that he was to sleep in the guest bedroom.
With Jane.
Jane had put on a gauzy, hip-length yellow nightie of Madge's, and was lying on the bed in the guest bedroom when Jonas appeared in the doorway looking somewhat wobbly. His hairy torso was naked and he had unzipped the fly of his pants.
He said in a hoarse whisper, "Jane, I may be out of my mind, but I think my wife told me to sleep with you."
"Uh-huh," Jane said.
"She told me that."
"Of course she told you that. She doesn't like fucking. I do. We have it all figured out. Jonas, would you please take off your pants and get into bed?"
Taking off his pants he said, "I think my wife told me to go to bed with you. Jane, would you explain?"
"You silly ass, we can do our talking while you fuck me."
When she saw his prick revealed, up stiff and long like an iron banana, Jane drew up the skirt of her nightie and spread her legs. She guessed her cunt must be winking at him, the way it felt. Slow vaginal pulls gurgled, and as she drew back her legs cool air seeped into the gaping hole. Jonas climbed onto the bed and wasted no time in shoving his plush-shod pole into the dilating, sucking, sloshy opening in her hair-clad vulva.
She sighed with pleasure, drew her nightie up to her shoulders, and received him into her arms, his hairy chest pressing the hot mounds of her breasts. She flung her legs about him, dug her heels into his spine, and braced, lifting, humping, at the long, slick spike of his manhood.
He dug into her hard, then paused, his penis throbbing in her belly.
"Jane, tell me what's happened."
She kissed his cheek. "Well, some of it would be hard for a man to understand. Madge has decided to quit whoring and live the best she can. She despises that filthy Wilson, and you can forget about his clinic."
"Thank goodness for that. But there's some thing you're not telling me."
"Yes. We'll let you into that gradually. What it amounts to, I'm your steady screw. Okay."
"Okay."
Tightening her grip on him, closing like a fist, she pulled at her vaginal sphincter, and the pressure started him off, ramming her with long, hard thrusts, measured, even, so she had no difficulty in raising to squeeze her cunt into each stroke of his piston-like organ. She thought of that day's experiments, sucking and then riding his prick. It had been great but for a woman there was nothing like being on her back, legs wrapped around her man as he banged her into the mattress.
It wasn't a long fuck. He was tired. He soon had the bedsprings creaking and Jane moaning loudly each time his throbbing meat filled her cavernous vagina. When he shot off, his cum drove her away like a pink balloon sailing through the sky.
By the time he returned to earth they had uncoupled and Jonas was asleep.
Jane went wet-legged to Madge's bedroom. Madge, looking impossibly beautiful in a transparent green nightie, was waiting for her. She reached up her arms.
Jane bent down and kissed her, and said, "Darling, loan me your douche? I have about a quart of cream to wash out."
Madge took her to the bathroom. While Jane squatted on the John, Madge filled a douche, gave her it and a soapy washcloth to clean up with.
Madge asked, "Did you tell him about me? About us?"
"I planted seed. He'll figure it out."
"God, what a fool I was, fighting with that awful Karen Moore over that despicable Wilson! Well, it's done."
When Jane had squirted the douche up her vagina and washed off and dried, they returned to Madge's bedroom. In bed, their hot bodies pressed together, Jane kissed her lover's cheek and said, "This Frieda who has the dress shop, is she lesbian?"
"I think so. Jealous?"
"I'll learn not to be."
Jane thought, I'll have to share her with Frieda, and Jonas with Liz, I must learn to. There. That's how it will be. Learn to swing with it.
Madge had squirmed down to her breasts, and stuffed one into her mouth. Jane felt a hand rove on her thighs, then dainty fingertips walking about her swollen pussy lips.
She smiled. Out of the husband's bed and into the wife's. Strangely, she had made sense out of a sterile marriage.
Madge drew off her nipple and whispered, "I wonder if I should divorce him. It would be more honest."
"But you're obviously fond of him. It's just the sex part you can't take. What's wrong with things the way they are?"
"Nothing's wrong at all," Madge said, her mouth yawning, closing on a tit and slowly drawing it into her mouth.
In her mind Jane echoed her.
Nothing was wrong. She sighed deeply, and squirmed with pleasure as her girl-lover slowly brought her toward orgasm.