Chapter 2
"We're moving to Dallas next week," the lovely, precious, darling, 14 year old girl told me after we had watched almost two hours of TV together. "It doesn't bother you, does it, Norma?"
"Of course, it does," I told her reassuringly, patting her cute buttocks through the peejays she wore. "You know you're my favorite, Jeanne. I'll miss you very much. But people do move around. We have to get used to new friends and new cities. . . ."
"Oh, you don't understand what I mean!" the 14 year old girl said. "You'll be going to college next year. You have a lot of boyfriends. I don't have any [ boyfriends, Norma. Do you know why?"
"As preciously pretty as you are?" I questioned, enjoying the feel of her buttocks so much that I slid my hand under the waistband of her peejay bottoms and caressed her ass naked. "There must be dozens of boys wanting to date you and . . and to kiss you."
"I don't like them," she responded firmly. "My parents won't let me date, and I don't care. I'd much rather have you kiss me goodnight than some old . . . boy!"
"Oh? Some boys kiss very nicely," I told her,
always playing the adult 'woman' to her. "One of my boyfriends makes me feel real good when he kisses me. Maybe when you date older boys . . . and young men, you'll find it more nice . . . nice nice and lovely, Jeanne."
"I don't want to be 'nice and lovey' with anyone but you!" she protested, grabbing my wrist in back and pushing my hand under her buttocks. "I know about boys. And I know about men too! Do you know what Mr. Abelard does?"
"Who is Mr. Abelard, darling?" I asked her with what I tried to sound like a sophisticated laugh. "You . . . you don't mean the man next door to you? He's old enough to be your father!"
"Men are sinful!" she told me in a raspy voice that she had obviously learned from one of her parents. "He goes down by the lake when I'm taking a sun bath on our side of the line. And, do you know what he does? He pushes his swim trunks down to his knees and jacks off on the ground! He wants me to see him jack off that big prick!"
"Jeanne!" I exclaimed, liking but not understanding why, the feel of her hand beneath my dress, on my naked thigh. "Where did you learn such language? What would your father and mother think if they heard you say things like 'jack-off' and 'prick'?"
"You know what the words mean . . don't you?" Jeanne asked me, her eyes sparkling with emotion as her hand crept further up my thigh.
"Well . . . I've heard them, Jeanne," I had to admit, hating myself for liking the sensation of her precocious fingers tickling into my pussy. "But you wouldn't want your parents to hear you saying such things."
"I don't care, Norma," the little blonde said to me as we sat on the couch in the den ignoring the TV. "My parents would . . . would shit if they knew what I liked and what I said. But you're young, Norma. I like you. I like to feel your legs and it's unfair. ..."
"What's unfair?" I asked with a laugh, trying so hard to deny that the feel of her fingers in my pussy was so wonderful. "And why are you feeling between my legs like that?"
"Because I love you", she replied instantly, then went right on talking. "And I like to feel your sex-box. You feel mine when you help give me a bath!"
"Yes . . . but that's only because . . . because I want you to be very clean," I said with great hesitancy, realizing for the first time how much it did stimulate me to bathe her, feel her little breasts and the fuzzy-covered lips between her thighs. "I love you too, Jeanne. I will miss you. But that's . . . that's life, darling. ..."
"Did you love me when you gave me my bath tonight, Norma?" she asked, and I was absolutely enraptured by the loving look in her eyes when I gazed down at the sweet face. "That's the last time you'll see me naked ... or I'll feel your hands all over me. Norma ... I don't want to move to Dallas!"
"Oh, I do love you too, darling!" I said with emotional enthusiasm, joining my lips to hers in a full-mouth kiss that developed into a prolonged French entanglement of lips and tongues. "Oh, Jeanne! If you kiss your boyfriends like that . . . you'll make them all fall in love with you."
"Are you in love with me, Norma?"
"I ... I love you, Jeanne," I said with much bewilderment, having been moved so by her kiss that I was very confused. "Some . . . well, some of my boyfriends like to kiss a lot. . . ."
"Are you still a virgin, Norma?" she asked with shocking suddenness.
"A virgin?" I queried in defense, hugging her sparsely clad body close and licking her left ear spontaneously. "I . . . I'm 19 years old. I go with grown men on dates......"
"I know," she stated matter of factly, then began to unbutton my blouse. "And you let them feel your breasts and in between your legs! I bet you let them fuck you!"
"Oh, that's a terrible thing to say!" I responded, yet allowed her to unhook my bra in front and fondle my naked breasts.
"You're so sexy, Norma," she said with the sweet innocence of youth. "I'll be glad when I have big titties like yours. When I said it wasn't fair ... I meant that you bathed me naked and felt my sex thing and my titties . . . but I never get to see you naked and play. Please . . . tonight's our last chance . . . ?"
"Have . . . you done much of- this . . . this sex, with other girls and boys . . . with adults?" I asked breathlessly, overcome by her magnetic appeal and its great sexual strength and attraction. "No . . . but I watch my mother naked a lot. She has such a beautiful figure too. She let me just . . .well, just playing around and teasing, she let me feel her tits a lot one night when I slept with her and Dad was in California for a convention. But I like to look at tits on girls and women. Oh, Normal I can't believe I'm really feeling yours naked!"
"Well . . . if it means that much to you," I said with hesitancy, hiding very strong desires that continued to flood my body and make me itch between my thighs. "Feel them all you want! Kiss them, Jeanne. That is ... if you want to kiss them. . . ."
"Yes! Yes, Norma!" she cried out with even greater excitement as she twisted around to face me, feel up and squeeze one breast and suck and kiss the other one until I wanted to feel my pussy, or let her do it. "Whew, Norma! They taste delicious . . . just like I thought they would. Your nips are a lot smaller than Mother's ... I like them better. Do your boyfriends suck them a lot? Please tell me, Norma! I'll never say anything to my parents, I swear it! And I'll never see you after tonight. . . ."
"Well . . . yes," I replied, not too surprised, and cautiously aroused, as I watched her take off her peejays and then cuddle up to me naked, pressing my hand to one of her lemon-sized breasts. "They usually start out by parking in some nice, quiet, lonely place . . . after we've been out to a party or a movie . . . and we kiss and open our mouths and lick each others' tongues and lips and inside our mouths, like we did a while ago. . . ."
"I'll pretend I'm the boy, Norma!" Jeanne declared, catching her breath as she pressed her right breast against my left one and embraced me. "I'm going to kiss you . . . like this!"
It was much more exciting than the first time. Her body was so soft and cuddly. Our open lips met each others and moved around. Our dripping tongues searched and felt. I remember the tingle I received when I ran my tongue along the backs of her teeth. They were so perfectly formed, and when my lips pressed tighter and I could slip and slide my tongue on the roof of her mouth, under her tongue and all through her fleshy-wet mouth, the itch between my thighs became almost overwhelming.
I had passed the point of being able to turn back, or to reverse our actions to the stage of playing "Mother and Daddy" as we had so many times over the past few years and gone no farther than a kiss. My right hand roamed over the young teenager's naked back, to the small of her back and down into the cleavage of her shapely buttocks.
"Oh, your hand feels good, Norma!" she said breathlessly as we paused briefly in our kissing and squeezed our bodies together. "But . . . you haven't told me if you're a virgin or not. Have you let a man fuck you, Norma?"
"Only twice, darling," I found myself saying spontaneously, finding excitement in our conversation too. "Once was with a senior at high school last year . . . the other time was with Mr. Blatchfield, the young biology teacher who dated me after I graduated. . . ."
"Did they kiss you and feel you . . . and you feel them . . . like we're doing?" she asked, her eyes sparkling in the TV lit room.
"Yes . . .," I told her, adding, "And he rubbed my breasts and licked the nipples after he . . . unhooked my bra. Oh! Oh, Jeanne . . . darling!"
Her young lips enveloped my right nipple as she held the breast with her small hand. The lips sucked it in a milking rhythm and her slick tongue played constantly across it! I had to cry out at the beautiful sensations! A dozen or more boys and and young men had sucked my nipples and had made me very excited. But the young ones were clumsy and the older ones had beards that rubbed roughly over the surface of my breasts.
There was such soft, delicate, sweet beauty in the way young Jeanne sucked them. It was such a stimulating, sensual experience that I never even bothered to think that she had been with other girls, or women. She was obviously aggressive with me, but I had allowed myself to go on until I was almost as aggressively involved as she.
Her left hand released my breast and she sucked harder, pulling the surrounding flesh into the soft, damp, licking cave of her pretty mouth. I pressed my thighs together and sighed aloud. She zipped down my skirt. She put the palm of her hand on my chest, just below my breasts. Her middle finger toyed with my sensitive navel, then she moved her hand down under the waistbands of my dress, half-slip and panties.
"Oh . . . oh, Jeanne, you darling . . . darling . . ," I sighed aloud, opening my legs so that her fingers could tease through my public hairs until they found the wet lips. "Your hand is so precious, Jeanne ... so soft and nice . . . like a mink glove. . . ."
I remembered the man I had met at the beach only a few weeks before. He was in his early twenties, but I knew he was married and wouldn't let him have intercourse with me. For some strange reason, I had rationalized that it was all right if we kissed and played with each other. He was quite sophisticated and showed me the mink glove and how arousingly beautiful it felt when he put it on and rubbed my open vulva gently.
As Jeanne dreamily continued to rub my juicy cunt and tease my hard clit and suck my nipple, I put my right hand across our bodies and massaged her little breasts. They were such precious beauties! I knew that I wanted to suck them, take each one all the way into my mouth and tongue those tiny, hard nipples. They were smaller than the erasers on most pencils, and I reveled in rolling each one between my fingers and listening to her sigh. I had bathed them many times since she was only 12, but just with a wash rag, and without too much consciousness of being sexually aroused myself.
"Norma?" she whispered, blowing in my ear after she let my right breast fall slightly when releasing it from her strong suck, "I want you to be naked too. If you lift up just a little ... I'll take off the rest. Is . . . that the way a boy does it?"
"Boys seldom ask," I told her, lifting my buttocks so that she could slide the three items of clothing down together. "They just try to go ahead and do it. In a car, we never get undressed. I only take off my pants and sit on their ... their penis ... or we He across the back seat. . .
'And they fuck you?" she said, still very breathless, very eager, very excited to listen to me. "Let me put these over the chair, Norma . . . and your blouse and bra too."
I hated to have to break the embrace of our bodies and the feel of her little breasts which fascinated me so much. But I took off the blouse and bra. She stood up and walked over to the chair at the left of the TV set and folded them neatly over the arms.
To see her naked, her lovely young buttocks twitching ever so slightly, built up the passion in me. Her perfect, nymphet body was outlined so beautifully against the light coming from the TV screen. And when she turned to approach me again, I marveled at the way her breasts shook, her hips slight sway, and the sight of her pubic hairs that I had seen grow from fuzz to the sparse collection of real hair intermingled with it.
Jeanne cuddled beside me again, and the sensation of our embracing bodies was so much more exciting since I was totally naked too. I opened my legs and she opened hers with what seemed like telepathic requests from each other. The soft feel of her sparsely covered mound was different than anything I had ever felt before. I could not recall that my own mound felt so soft when I was younger. I began to rub it teasingly, not allowing my fingers to stray to the girlish lips below.
"Oh, Norma! You have so much hair on your pussy!" she blurted out as she noticed my fairly thick growth of black, pubic hair. "Do your boyfriends like to run their fingers through your hairs?
Do they ever kiss you between your legs? Mother likes that!"
"How do you know?" I asked very quickly, even accusingly, picturing her kneeling in front of her pretty mother and licking her between those full, long legs.
"I've spied on her and Dad before," she came back very sincerely, believably. "He always licks her titties and her belly button . . . and then he puts his face right in between her legs and sucks and licks her pussy, and Mother screams because it's so good. Do . . . your boyfriends do that too?"
"One or two of them," I admitted, putting my left hand behind her back and cupping a buttock in my palm, getting more and more in the mood to thrill little Jeanne by telling her in detail of my 'big girl' sexual experiences. "You see, Jeanne, if a boy fucks a girl without using a rubber contraceptive, or her using a diaphragm or some other kind of contraception, she may get pregnant. So . . . when a date and I get very hot and want to fuck, but we have no contraception, we suck each other off. And, oh, his tongue feels so good in my pussy."
"You . . . you suck his penis?" she asked with astonishment, almost tearful.
"Yes, darling," I replied, asking, "You've seen your mother and father make love. Doesn't she suck his cock... penis, sometimes? Girls do that to make their boyfriends feel good when they're having a period too."
"Oh . . . yes," she answered hesitantly, and something in the back of my mind kept hinting that she had never seen her mother and father making love, but had experience with her mother, and maybe other girls. "Yes, I've seen Mother suck his big old thing. But I never thought you would do anything like that. Do you like to do it? Do you let him shoot his come in your mouth? Don't . . . don't tell me you swallow it, Norma!"
"No, I don't swallow it," I lied to her, wanting her to respect me and stay turned on to me, lying more when I said, "And I always pull it out ... or make the boy pull it out before he comes. Have you ever seen a boy come?"
"Yich! Yes," she replied with a scowl, and I was aware that we were both gently frigging each other just at the top of our respective cunts. "When we lived in the big apartment house close to town a few years ago. My bedroom was just across the alley from this man's bedroom. He used to try to watch me undress. And I was only about 11 years old! After he tried to watch me and I had turned my lights out, he turned his lights on and stood there playing with his ... his hard thing until a lot of creamy goo shot out of it into his other hand. He's what they call an exhibitionist, Mother said."
My curiosity was so highly whetted, but I felt I just couldn't ask Jeanne more questions about her and her mother. When she made the last remark, she shut up very quickly and lowered her head to my breast and began to lick the flesh all over the firm globe before sucking the big, hard nipple between her soft as velvet lips.
"Oh, darling . . . Jeanne . . ," I sighed in ecstasy, pushing my two fingers as far as they would go into the tight, young cunt. "You feel so good down there.
You're nice and wet too ... so young ... so good. ..."
I pushed my two fingers in and out, slowly and gently, the sensation so wonderful that I felt I was dreaming an impossibly beautiful dream! I pressed my thumb around over her pubic mound and the few hairs sent sensual shocks through my trembling body. I had never before been aware that I had any such tendencies towards girls, but Jeanne's soft features and charm, her beautiful, young body, and the tenderness she bestowed, had me completely overcome.
Her hand was so small that all four of her fingers slid right into my vulva when she imitated my acts on her. She pressed her fingers together until almost her whole hand was inside me. She twisted her hand around until the friction on my sensitive inner lips made me cry out!
"I love you, Norma!" she responded to my verbal as well as physical orgasm, and she moved her head across my breasts, her soft cheeks against my nipples, her thumb rubbing my clit as her other fingers slid just under and into the juicy wetness of my crotch. "I can make you feel better than any of those men or boys you date. ..."
With that, she slightly repositioned herself and put her head in my lap. Her tongue began to flick out in all directions, entangling my pubic hairs, licking at my clit and her own finger. I continued to frig her with my right hand. With my left hand, I began to explore the damp crevice between her sweet, young buttocks.
Jeanne's pussy was wet, but not nearly so dripping as mine, so I pulled my left hand away and brought it down between my legs. Immediately, it was covered with my abundant secretions and her tongue began to lick over and between my fingers. I sighed at the subtle teasing sensations as she licked my sensitive fingers, covering them more and more with her own saliva as well as my juices. I turned my hand around so that her swiping tongue played all over the palm of my hand and the insides of her fingers.
My fingers covered my pussy like iron bars on a door or a window. She licked deeply between them, bringing up the stringy juices and spreading them on my hands and fingers until I tensed my pelvis and began to move it, then orgasmed very strongly.
Jeanne and I seemed to sense each others' needs and desires down to the smallest detail. When I took my hand away from my pussy and let her tongue go to work on my clit so beautifully, she moved her ass forward a little for easier access. I put my fingers in the crevice and felt up and down the entire length. Her asshole was so tiny and tight that I had to use my little finger to open it.
As her sicking and licking became more intense, I was able to push my index finger deep into her tight asshole, and was then frigging her from both front and back. In a few moments, she began to move her ass back and forth so that I needed only to keep my inserted fingers still and let them go in and out of her highly excited pussy and anus.
"I'm . . . I'm coming, Norma!" she cried out, then popped her lips back to my pussy and produced such a strong suction that I began to come again too.
I did not lay back exhausted. Jeanne did not cease her mood of passion either. Her hands roamed my full thighs and up to my belly and breasts. I did not want to lose contact with her, and took my hand from her pussy and played it up the side of her body until it was right in her damp armpit. There were a few bristles there, as if she had shaved a week or two before.
"Oh, Norma ... I love you," she whispered, and I rubbed the moistness in her armpit around and around, my head swimming with the mental pleasures (as well as the tactile) of our differently sexual pleasure-trip. "Will you come to bed with me, Norma?"
"Jeanne . . . my precious Jeanne," I panted, moving her body down and licking up to her armpit. "When . . . will ... do you know how late your parents will be out? It's almost midnight....."
"They're visiting the Mortons," she told me, moving away from our embrace. "It's their last time together too. They . . . they have sex with each other . . ."
"What?" I asked with shocked naivete.
"They wife-swap," she told me with a sophistication so far beyond her years. "I've spied on them when the Mortons come over here and they think I'm asleep. Daddy fucks Mrs. Morton . . . and Mr. Morton fucks Mother. They like to do it in the same room . . . and watch each other. And Mrs. Morton likes Mother too. She sucks her pussy while Daddy and Mr. Morton masturbate each other and watch. They 69! Come on, Norma . . . please!
I want to 69 with you! They won't be home for two or three more hours....."
I needed no further persuasion. She, the 14 year old nymphet, took the hand of her 19 year old babysitter (me), and we both walked up the steps to her lovely bedroom. Jeanne's parents were, very wealthy compared to mine, and I always enjoyed putting her to bed. But that night, we were lovers. The relationship was so completely different, so bizarre, in a way. She was the aggressor, the seductress. I was the easily seduced partner.
The covers on her bed were turned back, and I reached down to pull them farther away from the bottom sheet. But her hands beat me to it. She whipped the upper sheet and covers away, and then grabbed me by my waist and almost threw me down on the bed on my back. She stood there for A moment, looking down at my sprawled, open-legged, naked body, and then she moved on top of me like man, mashing our breasts together, grinding her pussy into mine until our clits were touching, kissing me and whispering to me in hot pants, the more basic words of sex.
"I want to lick your body all over ... to fuck you, suck your pussy, Norma!" she told me, blowing the words in my ear until my flesh crawled with raw desire! "Don't think I'm so sweet and innocent, Norma! Do you remember how I persuaded you, seduced you into giving me baths when I was 12? I wanted more from you then . . . wanted to spread your legs and put my tongue in your cunt! I wanted you to lick my titties and kiss me all over! I wanted you to tell me what older boys and men did with you. I had to wait so long for you, Norma . . . but tonight, I get my reward. I want to suck your cunt. I want us to 69 and I want to drink the milk from your pussy....."
I had a small orgasm as she continued to jab her pussy mount into mine, but I wanted more and I was at the end of being able to hold out any longer. I licked her nose, her cheeks, sucked her ear lobes, put the tip of my tongue up the nostrils of her nose. I kissed and licked down her neck, then held her suspended so that the beautifully nymphet breasts hung above my mouth and I took turns kissing, licking and sucking the small, hard nipples, then with suction, pulled the entire breast into my mouth.
The first comparative sensation that I experienced was that of sucking a cock. To be sure, her lemon-sized breasts were not as hard as a big cock, but the firmness reminded me of the time I sucked off the man at the beach with the mink glove. After his huge cock had unloaded in my mouth and I swallowed its life-giving flow, he told me to keep sucking. His penis never went completely limp, and it felt much like Jeanne's breasts some of the time. It filled my hungry, hot mouth so deliriously. But I could never compare a man's cock with the wonder and beauty of a nymphet teenage girl's tit.
As I went on sucking, Jeanne began to turn her body around on top of me until I finally had to release the breast. And not a moment too soon. She scrambled down to bury her head between my upper thighs with more eagerness than I have ever seen demonstrated by a male or female since. Her little fingers pulled my fully developed cunt lips apart. Her tongue was lapping and licking along the meaty, red, inner lips with great skill. I had certainly never experienced such technique and anxiousness from a boy or man!
Again, as with her sucking of my breasts, I was so very thrilled by the softness, the almost baby softness of her face. Her cheeks smoothed against my inner thighs and sent a separate set of erotic thrills through my excited body! And her little chin rubbed against my hairy sex mound and squeezed and pressed sexily against the soft Venus hump as her tongue flicked teasingly at the hard flesh of my supersensitive clit.
"Jeanne! Jeanne! That's it!" I cried out, bringing up my legs so that I could make my thighs move closer and more stimulatingly against her soft face. "You can keep it up, Jeanne. Oh, Jeanne ... if you keep it up like that ... I'll .. . oh! I'll never stop coming!"
Finally, I helped to pull her own legs around so that her cunt was right above my face. How different, I thought, but how much more sexy to suck the cunt of a girl so young, so precious, so wanton! She kept her pelvis slightly lifted as if she knew I wanted to look and inspect the beauty of her sexual area, to see each lovely morsel of her hair and flesh that I was going to suck and lick.
The view itself, combined with her licking me and my raising and lowering of my legs against each side of her face, could have brought me orgasm after orgasm. But I deliberately tried to turn myself off, or, at least, down! Looking up at her, with the soft light from one table lamp illuminating her whole bedroom, the light and sparse hairs of her nymphet, virgin pussy, were not at all noticeable. The very lips themselves were not fully formed yet, and I recalled when mine were like that, when my pussy was more of a "slit" or a "crack" instead of a full-lipped "gash".
I brought my arms around her thighs and buttocks, noticing the very subtle sway of her hips, the proof that she was a genuine creature of sexual delight and passion. I traced patterns down the backs of her chubby, young thighs and felt the firm flesh tense with excitement. I synchronised the movements of my inner thighs against her cheeks with the tracings of my fingers on the hot thigh flesh, and I could feel the probably unconscious response of her whole body to the subtle and not so subtle attention she was receiving at both ends.
I had only licked up into her young pussy once or twice, and each time, she tried to bring her pelvis down so that I would continue. But I preferred to look at the luscious young girl genitals and work up to my fluid, oral contact that I knew would bring her to more than one orgasm (judging by her sexual response otherwise).
My fingers traced from behind her knees (which always made her body shudder a little) and then buried themselves in the undercrease of each buttock. The feel of her yielding yet firm flesh was such a wonderful experience in itself. The forbidden nature of our relation made it all the more thrilling. Jeanne was a 14 year old, blonde, baby-doll, and I was a 19 year old, fully developed young woman with some (but not much) sexual experience behind me.
I pulled her lower body closer, at the same time, pulling the cheeks of her ass apart and probing between them with my sensitive fingers. Her young cunt was closed when it first came into contact with my moist lips, and I extended my tongue, letting the tip of it open her nymphet slit by penetrating very gently and then moving from side to side up and down the length.
The process was deliberately slow and teasing. I wanted the aggressively seductive little "Lesbian Lolita" to be mad for it before I let my tongue finally touch the pea-head clit. I made noises as I slid my tongue zig-zag up and down her slit-"La-la-la-la, lup-la, lup-la!" And then my sounds would become garbled when a small bit of her liquid secretions would fall on my tongue!
I swallowed the secretions and made a very futile attempt to compare the taste with that of the male ejaculation that I had swallowed. There was a more self-satisfying flavor, and odor and taste that seemed to immediately digest and become a part of me.
"Mm-mmm . . . mph!" Jeanne groaned with great feeling as she licked way into my cunt, then moved her head to say, "Please, Norma . . . eat it! Make me come!"
But I avoided her clitoris again and put my lips to her slit and sucked and sucked and sucked. Jeanne's juices were sparse, as would be expected from a 14 year old girl, but the taste was so wonder-full I pulled the cheeks of her firm, young ass farther apart. I could see the entire length of the crease, but the light was so dim and otherwise directed, that I could not for certain make out each detail. I could not clearly see her asshole!
I put my right index finger in the slippery crease and worked it up and down. I pretended to do nothing more than tease, but with each sweep I defined her tight little asshole and knew where I should plunge my finger when the right time came. Jeanne was in throes of ecstasy, which made me feel so very good. She responded so beautifully to my every touch and twitch.
"Norma . . . Norma," she called out to me softly, taking her wonderful mouth away from my suffering pussy, "can you . . . will you . . . will you . . . lick my asshole?"
There was an element of shock in her sudden, blatant request. But it didn't phase me. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for me to extend my licking and sucking back to her little asshole. I drew her cheeks farther apart and let my hungry tongue slide across the small expanse of flesh until the tip of it dipped into her anus.
I made noises and groans and sighs as the tip of my tongue finally found the little hole and then plunged inside. I had to use a great deal of pressure to penetrate the nymphet brownie, but the taste and odor between her upper thighs was so desirable that I didn't care. I licked in a long sweep letting my tongue go through the length of her wet pussy and to the outer extremes of her ass crease.
Finally, I found the ideal time! My tongue dipped into her asshole and I began to ravenously force it in and out! I loved what I was doing! I had orgasms! And Jeanne was in such a sexual fit that her garbled words were incoherent as she tried to tell me how good and sexy I made her feel.
But the most important moment came when we were licking each other's clits to a violent, powerful, immensely strong climax! Our orgasms erupted at the same moment that the room became suddenly brighter! Jeanne's parents were coming home, and the lights from their car had illuminated the room!
Quickly, after our last, wonderful orgasms, I pulled Jeanne with me to the living room and we got back into our clothes as fast as possible. We had made it! I heard the key in the front door at almost the moment we were dressed and Jeanne embraced me more tightly than ever before!
"Don't . . . don't ever forget that I love you, Norma," she almost cried desperately in my ear, her hands forced under my skirt and massaging my buttocks as if they felt better than anything else in the world. "Promise me, Norma! Don't forget me! I love you! I will always love you! No matter what happens or where I go ... or you go ... I will always love you ... no matter what!"
THE dream faded like the "dissolve" to another scene on a TV show. I was sprawled across the big bed in my own bedroom, and I was 29 years old again. My right hand was between my upper thighs and I was very wet. I pushed the hair back from my forehead and blinked my eyes. The clock on the night table indicated it was about ten minutes before five.
And then everything came back to me. I pushed myself up on my elbow and realized I was smiling. I was relaxed and contented. I knew the guilt-feelings would come eventually. I suspected that they might be stronger than ever since the dream had brought me the realization of the experience I had tried to forget so strongly over the years. Yet, I rationalized, it was not my fault that Jeanne was obviously a Lesbian and living a female homosexual life-style. I had been several years older those years in Houston, but it was she who seduced me. I had not been the one to make her a Lesbian.
In fact, as all the details began to organize themselves in my befuddled brain, it was Jeanne who had brought out whatever potential I had for Lesbian desire. I had been fighting the possibility all the years since that night. But I knew enough about psychology to realize I did not have to be a 100% Lesbian to enjoy sex with another female. I could be bisexual, or maybe have a desire for sex with another female on rare occasions and only with certain girls.
My fear of the homosexual "taboo" was what had screwed me up, made me so self-conscious, filled with guilt, unable to organize myself, and wind up as a chronic masturbator. But realizing all that did not by any means cause me to change immediately. I would still be much the same as before, but I had the desire to experiment. The revelation promised me a new challenge and, perhaps, new pleasures and excitement. I would have to be careful, but at last I had something to look forward to outside of being an old man's sexual plaything and target of his children's snide remarks and other forms of hate-filled sarcasm.
I grabbed the letter from Jeanne and quickly reread it. She was to have arrived at JFK that very morning! She should be in New York this very moment! I jumped off the bed and walked around to the telephone table. I pulled out the Manhattan phone book and my fingers nervously flipped through in an attempt to find the listing for Denyse DeFontayne, the fashion photographer Jeanne told me she would be staying with. I was trembling all over and gave up the phone book, calling Information for the number and scribbling it down shakily on the scratchpad by the phone.
I started to dial the numbers. My palms were perspiring so that the phone almost dropped from my hands. I hung it up. I looked at the clock-five minutes before five. If I hurried, I could make the call before Ken arrived, but I had to have a large shot of Scotch first, which I did.
It took me three times before I could dial the number correctly through the area code's three digits and the seven digits of the number itself. My heart was pumping so hard that I could feel it thump! I heard the phone at the other end of the line ring once . . . twice . . . three times. My mood sank. I was sure there would be no answer and was about to hang up.
"Denyse DeFontayne speaking," a very husky and interesting (yet un-feminine) voice finally replied.
"Miss . . . DeFontayne," I said with a little hesitation and uncertainty in my voice. "My name is Norma Hathaway. An old friend of mine, Jeanne Love, wrote me that I could reach her at your number today."
"Is it Mrs. Hathaway?" the voice demanded in an unfriendly manner.
"Yes . . . Mrs. Hathaway," I replied with the same emphasis.
"Yes ... I believe Jeanne did mention something about you to me," the woman responded, then asked, "You live out in Westchester, don't you?"
"Yes, I do!" I said, acting a little unfriendly myself. "But is Jeanne there? May I speak to her, please?"
"I'll ask her if she wants to talk to you, Mrs. Hathaway . . . just a moment, please," the woman said with glacial iciness in her domineering voice.
I heard the sound of the receiver being set down on a solid surface. My blood was boiling! Who did that woman think I was? Did she think I was trying to take her lover away from her? Yes, I realized with a smile, she probably did. If Jeanne had told her about our relationship that night, or even suggested that I was once the object of her "sex" desires, a wealthy and successful fashion photographer like Denyse DeFontayne (if what Ken had told me was true), would be very jealous if an old lover of her present femme invaded the scene.
"I don't care, Denyse!" I heard a lilting and feminine voice say far in the background. "If you're going to have your . . . your nigger girlfriend over to spend the night . . . you must not think much of me!"
"Don't be childish and old fashioned, Jeanne," Denyse's voice barely came through, its tone mellow and low. "Laura Lee Lee Lenox is the highest paid and most beautiful black fashion model in New York. I thought you people in Texas had overcome the old prejudices ... at least, someone like you!"
"I haven't seen Norma in over ten years, Denyse!" Jeanne's protest was barely audible, but I strained to catch every word. "She's been married nearly that long. I want to be with her alone ... so I can at I least find out if she accepts me or not. How can I do that if you and Laura Lee get high and start kissing and . . . and everything?" "Look, Jeanne!" the stern and more virile voice ! came through more clearly, "Norma Hathaway's husband is 68 years old! I know all about him. I did a little more checking after you told me about your former baby-sitter! That woman is probably as hungry [ for your cunt as I am! But . . . oh, shit on you . . . you beautiful young creature. Go ahead . . . talk to your childhood sweetheart....."
"Hello! Norma?" the young, lilting voice came at me clearly and directly after I heard the little scraping noise of the phone being picked up. "Norma, is it really you? You . . . did get my letter and call me, didn't you?" "Yes, Jeanne. It's so wonderful to hear your voice after ten years," I responded with enthusiasm, trying to block out the conversation I had overheard. "I can't wait to see you. We're having an early supper to-night, and I can drive to Pleasantville or White Plains and grab a train into Manhattan. It may be late-9:30 or so-but why don't we meet for a drink somewhere, and then I can stay in our Manhattan apartment tonight. We keep it for convenience, and no one else in the family's using it tonight."
"What . . . what restaurant or bar should I meet you at?" Jeanne asked with youthful excitement. "I don't know my way around New York yet. . .
When she stopped in mid-sentence, I heard the husky voice whispering, but I could not detect the words. There was obvious objections from Jeanne, but when she came back to talk to me, I knew that Denyse had won.
"Norma . . . Denyse is so very anxious to meet you too," she began hesitantly. "And Laura Lee Lenox is dropping by too. You must have heard of her. She's the most glamorous Negro fashion model in America. Can't you come by here for a couple of drinks first?"
"Of course, Jeanne," I readily agreed, the word 'first' appealing to me with much promise. "I can be catch a cab to your place and still make it by 9:30 ... I guess. I hadn't even thought to ask you where Denyse lives."
"I'm in the East Sixties, dear," the slightly harsh voice of the fashion photographer cut right in, as if she deliberately wanted me to know she was listening in on an extension phone. "The Lexington Avenue Subway should be quicker than a cab. The stop is only half a block from my place. We're not so used to hopping cabs everywhere . . . like those of you in Westchester....."
I gritted my teeth and ignored her remark, then jotted down the address on the note paper on which I had written the phone number. I certainly hoped that Denyse would let Jeanne go out with me alone, what with her overly posessive manner and cutting remarks to me, whom she considered a possible threat to her hold over the girl.
"What's the apartment number?" I asked, after writing down the address and which subway stop to get off.
"I do not live in an apartment house, Mrs. Hathaway!" she blared back at me haughtily. "It's one of the better and remodeled three and a half story brown-stones. My studios and offices are on the first two floors. The rest of the house is where I live!"
"Oh, it's just gorgeous here, Norma!" Jeanne came on excitedly, ignoring or not caring about Denyse's domineering possessiveness. "I bet Denyse spent fifty thousand dollars just having this upper floor and a half remodeled and decorated. Why . . . the carpet's so thick and soft and sexy ... I can have an orgasm just walking around barefooted and. . . ."
While Jeanne had been talking those very few seconds, I heard Denyse hang up the extension phone, Obviously, she dashed to the room where Jeanne was and shut her up with a loud "smack" to her face, because when Jeanne was stopped in mid-sentence, there was the appropriate sound and then Jean cried out.
"Denyse. . . . why . . . ? was all I could hear from her.
"Go take a shower and sober up, you little Texas tramp!" the gruff, dyke voice of the 41 year old woman lashed at her, and after much falling and shuffling sounds of the telephone being dropped and picked up, Denyse's voice spoke to me again, much softer and even seductively. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hath- away. Jeanne is such a child. She's only 23, and I've had her out sightseeing all afternoon after her flight from Dallas. The drinks we had . . . and the half bottle of Harper's she managed to liquidate since we've been back. . . . ."
"Is she really that drunk?" I asked.
"Not drunk, really, Mrs. Hathaway," Denyse said soothingly. "The thrill of being in New York . . . becoming a top model for me . . . it's the dream of every little model from Dallas to Atlanta, to Chicago ... all of them. The excitement is terrific! Models are like actors, performers. They're highly strung. But Jeanne's a good girl, Mrs. Hathaway. I can hear the shower running now. I'm going to have my little Cuban maid fix us a good supper, and your old and dear friend Jeanne will be sober and lovable when you arrive."
"That's . . . very nice of you," I replied in a straight and unemotional voice. "Tell Jeanne that I look forward to seeing her there at about 9:30!"
"I hope you look forward to seeing me too," she responded brashly, adding, "I don't mean to be conceited or vain, Mrs. Hathaway, but I'm sure you keep up with haute couture and have seen my pictures. I keep up with New York's 400 because it's part of my business. Naturally, I know of your husband. I knew his first wife rather well . . . but she was a much older woman."
"I'll see you about nine-thirty . . . good-bye, Miss DeFontayne," I said, pausing before I added, "Or should we both be informal? My name is Norma!"
"Wonderful, darling!" she retorted with an exciting lilt to her husky, deep voice. "And you must call me Denyse. Goodbye until nine-thirty....."
"Goodbye, Denyse," I said, feeling very much in control of the situation, knowing I was desired, was capable of making people jealous.
It was a new and exciting experience. I knew that I was about to embark upon an adventure, a challenge. For the first time in years, I felt so alive and living! But then I fell back again! After Denyse had hung up the phone, I heard another click, another phone hang up. Jeanne was taking a bath. The other phone was an extension in my own house!