Chapter 7
The morning's fine and high sky degenerated into a cloud cover which poured over the ridges above us and descended until the evening grew thick and blue with its heaviness. Snow was in the air again. I had been fed on the remainder of the luncheon. After making an appearance at the evening meal, Marianne had done the last' of her tutorial work and returned with a stack of papers to correct. My plan was to wait for the cover of midnight and then to depart as I had arrived the night before. I looked forward to the freedom of movement I would have outside. I no longer felt that being all day in one room was sufficient for my taste. There had been years when I was content with the embrace of four walls, but space called out to me now, space!
The room, as rooms go, was comfortable; Marianne sat in a pool of yellow light at her desk, her face bent studiously over the short essays her students had presented to her on "Any topic concerning the religion or philosophy of Egypt." The fireplace, its mantel wrought with cherubs, demons, and beasts of all descriptions, contained a fire, now quieter than it had been in its spitting youth, of pleasant-smelling wood. By placing the mattress on the floor and building it up behind with pillows, Marianne had created something like a couch before the fire, and it was on this that I now sat, leafing idly through a French translation of Herodotus, reading battle descriptions. Marianne had brought back from dinner some red wine, and I enjoyed a slow glassful in the light of the flames. Over the soft crackling of the fire, I could hear the wind leaning against the eaves of the old chateau, playing with the nooks and crannies, and then tearing it self away to find some other game. Snow dashed itself against the tall, curtained windows, and I could easily imagine the cold and the exhilaration which later would be mine as it blew round my face. Sounds from the rest of the chateau were dying down. There had been a time after dinner when Marianne received several social calls from other teachers, and one or two girls had come with problems in their assignments-I had always slipped into the closet, just like some lurker in a bedroom farce-but the time for society was drawing to a close, apparently, and the corridor outside was still.
Lulled by the scratching of Marianne's pen, the wind, and the heavy prose of my historian friend, I spent a period in a light and drifting doze. I was awakened by a log falling and a shower of sparks fluttering up the chimney. A welling of heat swept across me. I rose to put another log in place, and then I wandered around until I came up behind Marianne's shoulder.
"How's it going?"
"Well, they're pretty good, on the whole. I'm nearly done."
I dropped a kiss on the top of her bent head and felt her smile.
"Thank you," she said.
"Any time, old thing."
"Want some more wine?"
"No. But can I get you more?"
"No, thanks."
I ambled away from her and pulled aside the drapes over one of the windows. The footprints I had left on her balcony the night before were all but obliterated now after the snow in the early hours of the morning and the snow this evening. There wasn't much to see. The coldness of the glass radiated against me, however, and the slithering of snowflakes was louder. "Still coming down," I murmured.
"Hmmm? What?"
"Still snowing."
"Uh-huh."
I closed the drapes. I ran my finger along the backs of a row of books in the case as I tottered my way back to the couch. Every inch of my body felt lazy, warm, and comfortable. I collapsed with Herodotus again and was immediately back in a doze.
The first intimation that Marianne had finished was when her husky voice whispered in my ear, "Are you asleep?"
"No," I grinned. "Not now."
She was kneeling behind the pillows, her shoulder supported by her arms beside me. Her eyes were alight, and her hair spilled around her face, highlighted by the fire.
I reached and grasped her shoulders, and before she had a chance to resist, I pulled her across the pillows and swung her around so that she lay on her back with her head in my lap.
"Now I'll have my way with you," I chuckled. "Oh, please, sir. I'm a poor girl, unable to give you anything."
"Oh?" I asked meaningfully, and my hand dropped to rest upon her beautiful left breast. "Nothing?"
"Well, nothing that would be valuable to a big man like yourself."
"I can hardly believe that," I laughed as I cupped her soft flesh in my hand. She laughed too, and I felt her squirm her head more deeply into my lap. Her entire body seemed open to me.
For dinner, she had changed into a tight black sweater, which flattered her shoulders, her arms, and her braless breasts. A wide black belt supported a full-length black and red kilt. Her feet and calves were encased in high-heeled black leather boots. The firelight played softly upon her form in my lap. She was beautiful.
I pulled the pins from her hair, one by one, and as it came loose, it spread down around her face and across my lap. After I had removed the pins and she had shaken her hair free, I began caressing her forehead and her chin and cheeks with my fingertips. Her eyes were closed. I ran my fingers lightly over her lips and her ears. I explored every inch of her face, gradually tracing the ends of my fingers down along her smooth throat. Minutes flew by. Her breathing grew more regular. I felt perhaps that she was falling asleep. Certainly, she was growing entranced. Part of the time I watched the fire, and part of the time I watched the glow of the firelight on her.
While one hand continued to play around and about her face, I dropped my other hand down across her throat and her chest until I was running my fingers under the swell of her left breast, round and round, slowly climbing up toward her nipple. I watched my fingers tracing their slow, light pattern upon her wide breast, and as they grew closer to the tip, I observed that her nipple was becoming harder. It pressed out through the warm cloth, erect. She did not stir as my fingers gently closed upon the thing, but when I squeezed lightly, a tiny sigh escaped her.
"You're awake," I murmured.
"Mmmmm," she answered, without opening her eyes. "This is lovely."
I continued my caress, just barely touching her, teasing her again and again, up toward her nipple and then away, up toward her nipple and then away. I did it until both nipples were standing stiffly in their black, tight bond. I urged her onward, touching nothing save her face and her breasts, promising a fuller caress and never delivering it, teasing with my light touches, my soft sounds. I was listening to the sound of her breathing, listening to her rhythms. I made her listen to them, too. By playing her nerves and her skin with the delicate pads of my fingers, playing her like a violin, I turned her in and more in upon herself. Then we were both listening to the feeling of her, tasting the sound of her, touching the look of her.
Presently, her mouth opened and words came out: "You think I'm putty in your hands, don't you?"
"Yes." I smiled.
"You seem to feel that all you have to do is touch me and I'll get all squiggly."
"Squiggly?"
"Uh-huh. I don't know what it means, but that's how it came out."
"Then squiggly it is. Are you feeling squiggly now?" For the first time, I pressed somewhat more solidly on her breast. "Eh, are you?"
"Oh," she answered with assumed casualness, "I'll tell you when I am."
I chuckled. Her eyes were still closed, so I slipped my fingertips over her eyelids, caressing her eyes as they trembled in their sockets. I stared into the fire and watched the coals glow as the logs slowly reduced to nothing.
After more long minutes had fled, she stirred slightly and said in a soft voice, "This reminds me of those times when I was younger that I was mentioning."
"Mmmm?"
"So peaceful. I've never felt this sort of peace with a man. I never knew you could. I just hoped so." Her voice trailed away to a sigh, and she raised one hand to lay it lightly upon the back of my own, which at the moment was very gently rubbing circles on her belly, just below the wide pools of her breasts.
We were quiet for a while, and then I urged her, "Tell me about it."
"What?"
"When you were younger."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure. I'm interested."
"Well, I was about the age of that new girl, Mallory. About sixteen or seventeen. I was shy with boys. It was hot. It was summer. We were at the beach for the month. There was another girl there, a year or two older than I. Melina."
She was silent for so long then that I thought she had finished, but as I continued to smooth my hands over her-l was touching the tops of her thighs now, along with her face-she began again. "I remember mostly the heat. It was so still that summer. There was never any wind. We'd go for a sail, perhaps. Now and then there was a hot puff which would fill the sails lazily for a moment or so, but generally we'd sit in our silent boat with the sails hanging like washing to dry, growing brittle and frayed under the sun.
We listened to the radio all the time. I can still hear those tiny little radios as they twanged across the beach. Everyone had one, and we all listened to the same sounds, you see. We all lay on our blankets, and sautéed ourselves with suntan oil, and listened to the radio. I was angry with my father and my mother-she was alive then because I wanted to be back in Athens. Even though it was hotter there, I still felt there was something to do there. There was a boy I wanted to have something to do with. Or perhaps I just wanted to want to have something to do with him. Anyway, it was something to talk about with Melina. She too wanted to be elsewhere, and she too was tired of her parents. We lay on the beach, or we rowed out in our sailboat to try to catch some wind, or we swam a little out to a raft that someone had built, some of the boys-they were always bun ding things. We were disdainful of the boys, and we criticized them an the time but we each wore as small a bikini as our parents would allow, and we sauntered around the boys' end of the beach, where they were always fighting or kicking a ball around. We'd saunter by and roll our gawky bodies at them, and they'd sneer, and we'd sheer back, and then we'd go away happy.
"And we talked about sex. Good God, Alex, you wouldn't believe how much girls talk about sex! We talked and we talked and we talked. We were both virgins, and it was the most fascinating thing in the entire world to us that there could be something-something, well, whatever it was that would make us not virgins. We lay in the sun, and we talked about sex, and we wondered about the boys, and ourselves, and everything. Everything made us giggle. Except when the sun got too hot, and we couldn't giggle anymore but just lie there stupefied, yet still talking about it. It. Always it.
"I imagine that something was bound to happen with all that heat and the importance we placed on our bodies. We were always rubbing oil into each other's backs. And I loved her, I think. She was older than I and she was more physically developed, but she had the same questions I did. Our basic shyness of boys united us, and I was flattered by her age. So then one day when my parents were not at home, we walked up to my house during the hottest part of the long afternoon to get something cool to drink. We got our drinks and we climbed up to my room. It was a room with a wide balcony, a shaded balcony, with open glass doors, looking out over the sea. I can still feel how sensuous and cool it was, lying there--there were two beds-with the wicker blinds half drawn and the sunlight muted and dim. Bars of light lay across us, but we could hardly see each other, so bright had it been outside, so dark and cool was it here. And we were still talking about sex. I was excited. I was always excited. It was so dark, and so cool, and I loved her, and I felt so safe there, that I did something very daring. I crossed my ankles and pressed my thighs together again and again, trying to put a bit of pressure secretly on myself. Well, one thing led to another, and soon I was stroking myself more and more openly. I couldn't seem to breathe very well, the air was thick and pressed down on my chest, and I longed for Melina to realize what I was doing, and I was terrified that she would realize what I was doing. It was wonderful and awful at the same time. And then just about the time I thought I would die if something didn't happen, I suddenly understood that she was doing it too."
Marianne was silent for a few moments then, and I shifted my fingertips so that they lay just along the groove of the outsides of her sex. I delighted in the feeling of the warm wool of her kilt slipping smoothly upon the nylon which encased her heavy-lipped mound. Her attention was on the story she was telling, but her body was responding to my caresses-perhaps aided by her memory of these summer-afternoon delicacies and I noticed that she slipped her thighs apart so that I would have more room to caress her on the rich downward slope of her pussy.
"We lay there," she presently continued, "for a long time, each of us stroking herself through her swimming suit, each acutely aware of any sounds, any breathing that the other made, each with her heart hammering nearly hard enough, in my own case at any rate, to choke her. I couldn't really see much of what Melina was doing, and I tried not to look at her too hard for fear that she would look at me, but I knew that she was looking at me anyway, and I loved the fact that I dared to do this awful, intimate thing while she was there and knew I was doing it.
"Well, you can imagine what happened in the end. Melina slipped her suit off and lay on the bed masturbating and no longer in any way trying to hide her sounds. That really excited me. I lay there and listened to the wet sounds and the slapping and the moans from my best friend, and I found that I was coming. It was excruciating. I loved it. I came, and I came, and I came. And she must have known I was coming, for she rolled over then so she could watch me, and I adored the feeling of her eyes on me in the dim room, and I was almost electrified to see the shape of her naked body. Her sex was so much more hairy and so much bigger than my small thing! And her breasts were fuller as well. She really was a woman, I realized, and I was all the more impressed with myself at being her confidante. And then she came too, and I had never seen anything more beautiful. I was so moved that I jumped off my bed, lay down next to her and found myself kissing her before I had any idea of what I was about. And that began everything. All the long exploration that cool afternoon. She let me feel her and examine her all over and she did the same to me. She taught me several things about my sex and about masturbating that I didn't know, and she did it for me, and she showed me how to do it to her.
"It wasn't until ten days later or so, and we had been doing it every day during the time, that we discovered about sucking each other. That was our own discovery. We had never heard of anything like it before, and we thought ourselves very wicked, but it was a great secret between us, and every chance I got, I used to lie down between her long, tanned thighs and part her soft, furry lips, and lick her juices until she came against my tongue."
Her eyes were dosed still, and as my hand drew closer to the plump mound of her sex, she began to move her hips languorously.
"Now I'm feeling squiggly," she murmured with a smile.
Her thighs opened slightly, and she raised one knee a bit. The movement pressed my hand down more fully onto her cunt. Her cunt lay in my hand like a fat fruit, tightly hugged by her panties and loosely covered by the warm, smooth wool. Her rotating hips seemed to tilt the mouth of her cunt upward toward me, opening her deep slit against the pressure of my hand. I imagined the gentle loosening of her membranes as they grew suffused with her ooze of moisture. I pictured the wide depths of her vagina as they grew ready to receive something, anything, into their reaches. Her clit, I knew, would be preening in its slick folds, anticipating the flickering pressures of my tongue or fingers, which would bring it by slow manipulation to an orgasm, one, and then another.
"Ohhh," she sighed. "Open my skirt, darling."
I reached for the gilt pin which secured the halves of her kilt, managed to slip it free with one hand, and' pulled it from the material. I opened one flap and then the other, draping the heavy cloth down on the outsides of her white thighs. Her black boots contrasted startlingly with the soft luster of her flesh, made the more warm and glowing by the firelight playing upon it. Her strong thighs fell even farther apart now that they were freed of the strictures of the kilt, and I pulled the garment open enough so that her cunt, encased in its flowery bed, was visible to my eager eyes. Her thighs were open enough for her entire crotch to be available to me, so without preliminaries, I ran my middle fingertip hard upward from her asshole to her clit. The material of her panties was soaking already. I pressed down on her clit, and a great heave passed through her body.
"Ohhh!" she groaned. "Oh, darling, your fingers!"
The odor of her spread and moistening crotch was beginning to permeate the air. I commenced to flutter her fingertips along the lower edges of her lips, never getting near her clit, teasing her, teasing her until she squirmed and panted, trying to angle her self so that I would touch her where she needed the relief. Presently, I did press down on her hard, tight button once more, and she moaned. Her hands came up and grasped her breasts and squeezed them with an aching, agonized need for additional stimulation.
I returned my fingers to the lower reaches of her cunt, running them one after another up between her broadly spread and running lips, feeling the cloth press into her body and her gash open with every pass. Her panties sank slowly into her oily groin, and I delighted in the sight of her wet flesh and crinkly hair being exposed. My own body was terribly excited by this slow seduction. My cock was a rigid bar of hot flesh pressed against my stomach, and I rubbed it as best I could against the back of her head and neck. I was sweating from the armpits and the crotch; my own sexual smell was beginning to mix with hers. Never had a woman so excited me. It seemed as though we had been doing nothing except making love since I climbed in through her window, and yet here we were getting ready to do it again. My cock ached in its stiffness, and my balls felt empty, but I was as eager to press myself deep into her' flowing hole as ever I had been while in the sweaty back seat of a car at the drive-in, back in my teen-age years.
"Let me undress," I said.
"Mmmm."
I slid off the couch, and she layout flat, her hands slowly massaging her breasts while she watched me strip. I did the thing slowly and enticingly. I knew the firelight was showing off the muscles in my shoulders and chest as I slipped from my shirt. I dropped the garment languorously beside me, and, grinning, I did a few slow bumps and grinds. Marianne's eyes were sweeping over me, all the time returning to the great bulge in the front of my trousers, but taking in the whole prospect as well. One of her hands descended to her tightly split cunt and rubbed gently at her lips as I opened my belt and dropped my pants. My cock, long and engorged, sprang upward out of its confinement, and I saw her lick her lips for a second and press down harder on her clit.
"I'll bet that feels good," I encouraged her.
"Yes. Oh, it certainly does."
I held and massaged my own sex while watching her in the firelight. "I love your cunt," I murmured.
"I love it, too."
"Lick your fingers."
"I taste good," she sighed around a mouthful of her masturbating hand. She dipped the fingers down again into the wet maw of her hairy sex and brought them, shiny, to her mouth. "Oh, yes."
Her flung thighs were open to me, and her slit pussy was waiting there for me to approach. Instantly, I dropped to my knees and pressed my face into that steaming and perfumed groin. Her sex smell almost made me reel.
"Take off my panties," she begged. "I want to feel your mouth up inside me."
I straightened and began pulling her panties from her wide hips. She had to raise her ass to allow me to pull them away. The material was so suffused with cunt juice that it pulled away stickily, as though it were glued by the copious fluid that flowed from her reeking slit. I pulled the material down her legs, and she kicked it away onto the floor. Now her cunt lay bare and open before me, wet and shining in the firelight, a musky, hairy mystery which I longed to lick.
First, though, I raised her thighs until they were pressed back against her breasts. Her wonderful ass was tilted up toward me then, and I was treated to the view of hairy asshole and the back of her plump cunt lips. Inhaling the wondrous, strong, thick odor of her asshole and cunt together, I lowered my face until the tip of my tongue penetrated between her spread buttocks, and I lay still for a moment, right on the wet center of her asshole. Very slowly, I began to rub my tongue in a circle, running wetly around that widening hole, pressing more deeply into her body as I did so. Her taste was thick and satiating. I reveled in it. I lifted my fingers, wet them in my mouth, and commenced to rub them over and over her crinkled hole, alternating my tongue tip and my fingers until her moans and her clenching thighs told me that she was nearing an orgasm. And then, as she drew even closer to it, I began moving my other hand along the slippery slit between her two furry lips. I had raised my face several inches, so that I could watch my finger slipping and twisting deep inside her clinging asshole, and I began to speak to her in her ecstasy: "That's it, Marianne, make it come, make your cunt and your asshole come. Make them come, darling, like they used to come with Melina. Pretend I'm Melina, darling, pretend these are Melina's long, tanned fingers in you. Pretend it's another woman here making you come. It's Melina, darling, and I have a cunt, and you're going to suck my cunt soon and make me come. You're going to suck my hot, wet cunt. You're going to press your face into my cunt, and your own cunt will come and come. You miss it, don't you darling? You miss her cunt and the feeling it gave you? You miss her cunt."
It was an inspiration. I had listened to the way she told the story, as well as the repeated assertions that she found nothing wrong with lesbian sex, and I began to understand something about her reaction to the school which perhaps she herself didn't even recognize. She was jealous, in a way. She was lonely, and she was envious of her colleagues and students in their intimacy, and she remembered with increasing longing the wonderful, warm caresses of her lesbian lover long ago.
As I say, it was an inspiration. Immediately, she began to move herself more violently against my fucking fingers. I heard her moans grow faster and saw her thrashing grow more frantic. I fucked her asshole even harder-my own excitement was indescribable at that moment-and babbled words to keep her going. Her cries ululated higher up the scale.
"Her cunt, Marianne. Remember her cunt. You're going to suck her cunt, her hairy lips. You're going to suck her cunt juice. You love her cunt. Her cunt, darling! Her cunt. I'm her cunt! I'm her wet, red, dripping. cunt, and you're going to come, Marianne, you're going to come, my cunt, my darling, my life, my love. I'm her cunt, her long, stiff, red, hard cunt, her cock, her cunt, I'm her cunt, and I'm going to fuck you deep in the cunt with it and make you come, in your asshole, and your clit, and your gooey, slimy, coming lips-with my cock, my cock, my cunt, I'm fucking you with my cunt, Marianne, my cunt, my stiff cunt, in your soft cock, I'm making you come, and come, and come, and-oh, God, I'm coming, too !_yes, I make you come and I come, too, I'm coming in my cunt, my cock, my cunt is coming in your cock, my cunt, darling cunt, I love your cunt, my cunt, I love my cunt, my asshole, my cock, my-oh, God, my fingers in your asshole, my asshole, my cock, my fingers fucking-I'm fucking you, I'm fucking you, I'm fucking you-"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Instant tableau.
Her hands held her thighs tightly back against her breasts. My fingers were knuckle deep in her smoking holes: we teetered on the very brink.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The sound came again, and this then was followed by ashy little voice: "Marianne? Are you there? Are you all right?"
She had to clear her throat twice before she could answer without croaking. "Yes? Who is it?"
"It's Mallory, Marianne. May I speak with you?"
"Um, just a minute, please."
We were still in the same ridiculous position. Her eyes pleaded with me from around her thigh. I thought I was going to be angry, but instead I found that it would be all right. All the more anticipation, and my body had come very frequently in the past day and a half. I could afford to stop now, as long as there were benefits later.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Thanks, darling. I'll make it up to you."
We began untangling ourselves. "I'm sure you will," I answered, and I was pleased to find that I meant it with perfect sincerity and with no sarcasm.
"What'll we do with me?" I asked, standing absurdly naked in the middle of the room, trying to gather up my clothes while Marianne struggled into a robe, my cock still erect, my body flushed and sweating. She had to skim out of her sweater. Her tits were lovely.
"In there." She motioned toward the closet.
"The old into-the-closet trick, eh?"
She grinned, kissed my cheek, fondled my stiff cock, pushed her own clothes into my arms kissed me again and said, "We'll laugh about this later," then patted my ass and pushed the door dosed after me.
I found myself in a small closet, smelling richly of her perfume, her clothes, her dirty underwear. The door was just barely ajar. Very quietly, for Marianne had now walked to the door and was on the point of opening it, I put down our clothes and stood naked, peeking through the crack in the door.
"I'm sorry, Mallory dear. I was asleep."
"Oh. I can come back later."
"No. I'd be asleep again. Come on in for a few minutes. Isn't it after bedtime?"
"Yes, but, oh, Marianne, I just had to talk to you. You see--"
"Well, wait a minute. You just sit there on the bed before the fire, and I'll drop on another log or two. There. That's better. They'll catch in a minute."
The girl who had entered the room was now visible to me as she reclined before the fire. She was everything that Marianne had said before, lovely, delicate, innocent, and, at the moment, she seemed distressed. Looking at her from only feet away, naked with an erection, tickled me, and I chuckled at the thought of her expression should I calmly step out of the door. Marianne walked away toward the other side of the room, and I heard the clink of glass upon glass. "Mallory, dear, since it's just we girls and this is unofficial, I'm going to have a glass of wine. Will you join me?"
"Oh, yes, I'd like that I"
"There you are then." Marianne walked back into the glow of the newly burning logs, her hand held out with a glass of wine in it. "You drink that-slowly, now-and you'll feel much better. My, you are all tensed up! Whatever can be wrong?"
She settled down on the bed beside the girl, sipped her wine, and looked expectant.
But Mallory was hesitant. "I like this bed," she said.
"Yes. I'm so fond of fires, aren't you? It just doesn't seem right to have a nice fire and be way over there on the other side of the room, does it?"
"No," the girl replied, but her mind was no longer on the matter. She picked nervously at the hem of her bathrobe for a moment, avoiding Marianne's eyes.
"What is it, Mallory? Is there something I can help with?"
"I don't know. I don't know whether I should tell you."
"Well, you may if you'd like to. I'm here to help, you know."
"It's just that-well, I don't know how to say it."
"Is it something to do with your studies?"
"Oh, no. It's nothing like that."
"Well, then, what is it?"
"It's ... well" She sipped again of her wine, and I had the feeling that she was on the verge of tears.
"Is it one of the girls?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm ... it's Annette."
"Isn't she your roommate?"
"Uh-huh. But she--well, she's all the time, well, you know, touching herself."
The words came out explosively, as though they had been dammed up inside for a long time. Mallory's lovely eyes turned finally to hold Marianne's, and there was a kind of pleading in them, a hope that Marianne would not be angry or jocular.
"Yes?" was all she said.
"I ... I've never done that."
"Well, it's all right either way, if that's what you mean."
"No. It's more than that. I don't know how to say this, but I think, well, I think that Annette wants to ... she wants to touch me!"
"You mean ... "
"Yes. That way. You know."
"Has she, um-"
"No! She's never done anything. I've ... I wouldn't, I ... "
"There, there," Marianne patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly, and she moved a little closer so that Mallory was encircled with her arm. "No, of course, you wouldn't. Not if you didn't want to. No one can make you do anything you don't want to do."
"I like her. I'd like to be her friend, but ... "
"I understand."
"You do? I knew you would!"
"Yes, I do. You see, I've been through this, too."
"Really?"
"Yes, Mallory. You're not the only one. It's very common, really."
"But it's ... but boys are, well ... "
"Yes. Boys are better."
The two sat silently for a moment, each sipping her wine. The fire leapt and crackled, and the highlights on their two faces were yellow. Presently, Mallory said, "I can talk to you. You understand."
"Yes. More wine?"
"Please."
Marianne left, and when she returned, she sat right beside the girl. She leaned back against the cushioning pillows, and, in a soft friendly way, Mallory leaned her shoulders back into the arc of my lover's arm. They were silent throughout the entire glass. My excitement had dissipated by this time. I was growing somewhat stiff with standing quietly and was beginning to feel the cold, and I wondered when Marianne would get rid of the girl.
Finally, Marianne asked, "Feeling better?"
"Much."
"I haven't said anything."
"It's not what you've said, it's your understanding."
"I'm always here. Do you want to go back tonight? I could arrange for you to have another room."
"No, I don't think so. I like Annette, as I said. It's just, well, you know. And I'll have to face this thing alone."
"As you like."
Mallory seemed on the point of getting up, and I was looking forward to stretching, when she stopped and asked very shyly, "May I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"It's a personal question."
"That's all right, Mallory. What is it?"
"Well, I was wondering, do most girls, you know, touch themselves?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. Probably half do and half don't. Nearly all boys do."
"Boys?"
"Yes."
"It never occurred to me somehow. What do they do?"
"Well-" I could see that Marianne was feeling a bit embarrassed now that she'd gotten herself into this, but I grew eager to see just what she'd say: the situation was a funny one, and I cupped my cock and balls with a grin-"well, they use their hands, you know, and give themselves orgasms."
"Orgasms? Is that what Annette has?"
"I suppose so."
"She breathes a lot, and she moans sometimes. At first I thought she was sick"
"No," said Marianne with a slow smile, "that's an orgasm."
"What's it like?"
"Oh, I don't know ... "
"Perhaps I shouldn't ask these questions."
"No, it's all right. It's just-I've never been in this position before, and I don't quite know what to say. Do you really want to know what an orgasm is like!"
"Yes." Her voice was small.
"It's a sort of explosion of feeling, a, urn, a blast. It makes you feel very good. It removes tensions, you understand. It makes you feel close, when it's with another person."
"And if you're alone?"
"It still makes you feel good. It's-there's nothing wrong with it. Everyone does it."
"Everyone? But you said-"
"I know, I just meant-"
"Do you?"
"What?"
"Um, do you? I'm sorry."
"No, that's okay. Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact I do."
"Oh." Mallory looked away, as though wondering how she might get out of the room now that she had thoroughly embarrassed herself.
"Hey! Hey, Mallory, it's fine for you to ask I don't mind, really, I don't." She reached to pull Mallory's face around toward her own. "Really. It's okay."
"I'm sorry, Marianne. I never should have-"
"Now, now, my dear. There's nothing to it. So what if I masturbate? I'm here alone, and I like to come, and I beat off."
"Come?"
"Have an orgasm. It's an expression."
"Oh."
"Look, really, it's just between us girls. No one else need know. This is strictly private."
This conversation was restoring some of my old lust. At the same time, Mallory's obvious shyness was making the situation awkward. I felt somewhat caddish, not that I could do anything about it, to be here listening to what the girl obviously thought were intimate and fragile things. I wished that Marianne would make her go away.
"Well, if you really don't mind, can I ask you another question?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Well," and now she looked bolder, she had come to the point, and she was just going to go ahead, "well, how do you do it?"
"How?"
"Please. I feel so damned dumb."
"Well, you manipulate your clitoris until-"
"What's a clitoris?"
"Well, it's-you really don't know?"
"No."
"Here, perhaps I'd better show you."
"Oh!"
"It's just so you'll understand."
Suddenly, the atmosphere of the room seemed to have changed completely. Marianne and Mallory were speaking more quietly, more haltingly, and I myself was having a hard time drawing a breath. A weight seemed to press against my chest and kept me from inhaling. My penis began stirring in my hand like a serpent nosing its way upward, growing, swelling, arching toward the sun.
"I won't if you don't want me to, Mallory."
"I don't know, I ... "
"Would you like to see?"
"Well ... "
"Would you like to know?"
"I ... I guess ... if-well, yes."
"Of course, you would."
"Yes."
"This is just we two. No one will know."
"Okay."
Marianne pulled away from Mallory's shoulder and turned slightly toward her while she unbelted her robe. I could see slightly less of her now, looking as I was at her side and some little bit of her front, but Mallory had a better view. The girl didn't quite know what to do with her hands-she skittered them about on her demurely clenched knees-but her eyes grew as wide as saucers when Marianne pulled the halves of her robe open and: exposed her nakedness to the girl. I saw Mallory trying to swallow, as though her throat had suddenly grown dry. Marianne sprawled her thighs farther apart so that the girl would have a better view of her down there. I realized for the first time, and with a start, that she was still wearing her high, black boots. The picture was as erotic a one as I had ever seen. I couldn't draw my eyes away from the picture of my magnificently voluptuous Marianne, her red robe drawn partly aside from her body, her black boots akimbo, while the lovely, pale girl stared at her from only feet away.
"There now," she whispered, "there's what a woman looks like!' There was a well-deserved pride in Marianne's voice.
"Um ... "
"Yes?"
"Well ... "
"Watch." And I saw that Marianne's bands had dropped into her lap. I couldn't quite see what she was doing, but I did see her head drop back slightly and her eyelids sag.
"Oh! Yours is so ... will mine be like that?"
"When you're older, yes."
"It's so ... it's so ... "
"Yes?"
"Well, so big!"
Marianne's comfortable chuckle followed this. "Yes, isn't it?"
"And so hairy!"
"That too."
"Will mine be that hairy?"
"Maybe. You must have some hair already."
"Yes, but not so much as you."
"Well, mine is unusually hairy, but everyone gets more as she grows up."
In a very still voice, one I could hardly hear, Mallory said, "It's really sort of beautiful."
"Thank you."
"I ... " I like to look at it."
"Of course you do. And I like to show it to you."
"It's-"
"Here, see more."
"Oh I It's so red inside."
"That's because I'm older than you are."
"I like to see the redness and how hairy it is."
"And see this hard little nubbin?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's my clitoris. That's what makes me come."
"I don't think I have one of them."
"Yes, you do. You find it sometime. It's right in the same spot as mine. See? Right here between these inner lips."
"How does it do that?"
"What?"
"Make you, what you said, come."
"Well, I rub it. Like this, see?"
"Is that all?"
"You have to keep doing it for a while, but it makes you come. It's like a boy's cock, you see. It's the most sensitive spot."
"When they ... when they masturbate, is that what they do too?"
"No, no. They have cocks instead of clits, and they rub them."
"Oh."
"This is the way it's done, dear." Marianne's face was a study of lust, and the undisguised eagerness on the girl's face was enough to make me grow more avid in my self-loving in the closet. After a few moments had passed, and Marianne's breathing was louder while her hands moved more rapidly upon her slick flesh, she opened her eyes wider and stared at the girl. "Would you like to feel it, Mallory?" she asked.
"But I ... "
"I'd like you to, you know. You could just touch my hand."
"It's wrong. I don't want to."
"But you can't stop looking, can you?"
"Is this what Annette does?"
"That's right. She masturbates, just as I'm doing. And, you see, it doesn't hurt or anything. It's wonderful, in fact."
"It ... it looks nice."
"Come a little closer."
"Well ... "
"What's the matter?"
"I don't think I should."
"Are you frightened?"
"Yes."
"You needn't be. I'm not going to do anything to you. I just want to show you this thing so you'll know how your own works."
"But--"
"Come on, now." Marianne had stopped masturbating, but her legs were still open, and she held out one hand to Mallory, urging her to move closer."
Very hesitantly, Mallory took her hand. "Oh I" she exclaimed. "You're all wet I"
"Yes, darling. That's what happens when a cunt gets excited."
"It gets wet?"
"Yes. Hasn't yours ever gotten wet?"
"Well ... "
"Come on. We're friends, aren't we? We can tell each other everything, can't we?"
"Well, I guess so."
"Of course we are. Now, tell me, hasn't your little cunt ever gotten wet before?"
"I ... well, yes."
"Certainly it has! That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"No."
"That's right. Now come a little closer along the bed. Yes, darling, that's it. Now, just between us, tell me, isn't your cunt just a bit wet right now?"
"Oh, but I ... "
"Friends, remember?"
"But it's such a funny word."
"What?"
"What you said."
"Cunt?"
"Yes."
"You say it, too,"
"I couldn't."
"Yes, you could. What do you call it?"
"It ... it doesn't have a name."
"Yes, it does. It's called a cunt. Come on. You try it. What is this thing?" And she laid her hand once more upon her dark mound.
"I can't."
"A cunt. Try it."
"A ... "
" ... cunt."
"Cunt." Mallory's voice was very tiny. "A cunt."
"Your cunt."
"My cunt."
"Your nice cunt."
"My nice cunt."
"My nice cunt."
"Your ... nice cunt."
"What am I holding?"
"Your cunt."
"What are you looking at?"
"Your cunt."
"What am I stroking?"
"Your cunt."
"What is it called again?"
"A cunt."
"There, your fear is going, isn't it? It's not such a hard word to say, now, is it?"
"No." And to try it again, she repeated softly, "Cunt, my cunt."
"That's the stuff."
"Will mine ... will ... "
"Yes, darling? What?" Marianne had begun lightly masturbating her clitoris again, and the pleasure of it glazed her eyes.
"Well, I know you answered this already, but when will mine be big and hairy like yours?"
"Pretty soon. Pretty soon. Everyone's is different, but yours will certainly get hairier and looser than it is now. Why don't you let me see yours, and then I'll be able to tell better?"
"Oh, no! I mean, I couldn't. Well, really ... "
"But you're looking at mine, aren't you?"
"That's true."
"And since we're friends."
"But ... "
"It's just so I can answer your questions."
"Well, okay." Mallory slowly lifted the hem of her robe and nightgown over her knees and pulled it up to her thighs. She held it in her hands like a tent over her sex, just barely showing it to Marianne. Her legs, though, were already showing their soft womanly shape. She would be exquisite in a year or two. Now there was the slightest hint of the end of her gawkiness, but the smoothness and power were already there. She wore white knee socks. Her robe was blue, and her eyes were blue, and I nearly groaned as, encouraged further by Marianne, she lifted the hem over her belly and allowed it to drape down at the base of her small breasts. Her belly was white. Her hips were, like her legs, already full of their roundness, and she showed the wonderful young brown down of her pussy as she shyly opened her thighs.
"Oh!" exclaimed Marianne. "You have a very nice little cunt."
"Do I?"
"Of course, you do."
"It's not so nice as yours."
"Well, yours will get bigger if you do what I'm doing."
"You mean ... masturbate?"
"Yes."
"But I don't know ... well, what I mean is--"
"You're afraid."
"Uh-huh."
"And you're not sure you know how."
"That's right."
"Well, here now. You put your hand on mine. That's it." Mallory had reached her hand over easily enough, and I saw that she had her fingers touching the backs of Marianne's own masturbating fingers. "You just keep your hand on mine, and I'll show you how it's done."
"Like this?"
"That's right."
"Mmmmm." Mallory was smiling now, and, of her own accord, she reached out her other hand and laid it gently on the stiffened, red peak of one of Marianne's breasts. "May I?" she asked coyly.
"Certainly, darling."
"You have beautiful breasts."
"I know."
"So full"
The women were quiet for a time, the only sound the slick motion of Marianne's fingers as she languidly beat herself off.
Presently, she murmured, "Feel what I'm doing with my fingers?"
"I sure do."
"Now you do that."
"Me?" But this time Mallory needed no urging. As Marianne withdrew her soaking hand from her cunt, the other's fingers were more than ready to take up the job. "Oh, God," she groaned as she felt the full, deep wetness of Marianne's cunt for the first time. "Oh, my God, how hot it is!"
"Mmmm. You make me hot. Your fingers! Oh, Jesus, your fingers are making me come!"
"What should I do?"
"Just-oh, Christ--just keep doing what you're doing. Don't stop. Oh, please, don't stop. I'm getting closer! It's coming! Oh, my darling, you're making me come!"
"Yes, let me make you come. Let me make your cunt come. Shall I do it harder?"
"Yes. Oh, yes! Oh, play with your own cunt. Let me see you beat off. Please, darling."
"Like this? You like to see me playing with my own cunt?"
"I love it! I just love it! Now, oh, please harder. That's it. That's it! I'm coming now. Watch me come! Feel me come! Oh, feel me! I'M COMING!!"
There was a long silence after Marianne came punctuated only by the gradually slowing panting of her spent body. She was flung entirely naked upon the bed, her every muscle completely still. Mallory, her hand still laid on Marianne's steaming cunt, did not know what to do at first, but then, finally, she withdrew her hand, closed her robe about her, and sat demurely on the edge of the bed, looking into the fire with a troubled expression on her face.
Eventually, Marianne stirred. She looked as though she were coming out of a sleep. She was disoriented for a moment, and it was only gradually through the course of the following conversation that she regained her acumen.
"Mallory?"
"Yes?" But the girl didn't take her face from the fire.
"Are you all right?"
"I guess so."
Marianne sat up and touched the girl's shoulder."
"Are you okay?" she repeated.
"Oh, shit, I don't know." The curse sounded strange on her lips.
"I'm sorry I made you do that."
"Don't be." Here she turned toward Marianne. "I enjoyed it, don't you see? I 'wanted to do it."
"Well, that's all right, darling, because I wanted to, too."
"But what does it mean?"
"Nothing, really. It was just for fun. You needn't think of it again."
"But I will."
"Well, to be frank, so will I."
"It scares me."
Hesitantly, Marianne put her arm around the girl and drew her close. After a second of resistance, Mallory snuggled thankfully into the arms of her lover.
"You needn't be afraid."
"I don't want to be."
"You can trust me."
"But does this mean I don't like boys I"
"Of course not, silly. I love men myself."
"And you still ... "
"And I still enjoy a woman's body, yes."
In a shy voice, Mallory asked, "Do I have a woman's body?"
"Yes, darling." Marianne slipped her hand inside Mallory's robe and gently caressed her breasts. "You certainly do. A lovely, beautiful, exciting woman's body."
Mallory just smiled, and she snuggled deeper.
My own state by this time was deplorable. I was so excited that my cock seemed twice as long and fat as it had ever been before. It no longer seemed to be a part of my body. It was just a great handful of meat that I was rubbing endlessly. I was growing numb with the continual sensation, but I could not allow myself to come for fear of making noise. It was a wondrous condition. I knew that when finally I did come, I would jet my sperm higher and longer than ever I had before. I could feel the enormous, aching load of it that I was building up, but my cock, so long and so very fat, never did quite get to the orgasm before I slowed myself down. I was poleaxed with lust. Everything trembled in a small, continual tremor. My face was vacant, my features without character. I knew my mouth was sagging open. My lips were numb and my nostrils tingled. And, slowly and steadily, I masturbated, my eyes never leaving the movements of Marianne's hands inside Mallory's nightgown, my cock getting bigger with each single movement of my hand.
Marianne now was kissing and nuzzling Mallory's sweet, pale neck. The girl's blonde tresses mixing with my lover's black hair provided a contrast which was erotic in the extreme. Soft motions, they were, soft murmurings of love words, soft hands on soft breasts. Marianne's ready lips trailed through the girl's collar, causing her to drop her head back. Mallory's throat arched whitely in the dying firelight, its elegant curve traced by the pads of Marianne's fingers when she withdrew one hand from the girl's nightgown and bent her attention upon her neck.
The yellow light glowing on the two women showed now and then a glimpse of a hand, now a throat, now a pale breast, as they caressed each other. I saw Marianne's face dip into the opening of Mallory's nightgown, and it would seem that her lips must then have fastened themselves upon the girl's virginal nipple, for Mallory hugged her lover's black-tangled head against her and sighed a long sigh to the night air. And then, in the midst of their slow motion, Marianne's hand slid up Mallory's knee sock and underneath the hem of her gown. Complete stillness came to them both then. Not a movement, not a sound. The air of the room was thick with sexual tension; the luminous light lay on the tangled bed, the colorfully flung clothes, the jumble of smooth female limbs, and it showed nothing else of the room. They were as though divorced from the world, floating on a cloud of their own sensuality, connected nowhere with Switzerland, with Chateau Diableret, with The Meyer and her depredations. I felt as though I were watching the dallying of two goddesses.
After a long, long time, hours, seemingly, of complete stillness, Mallory groaned once and came.
Marianne held her for minutes then, while her small whimpering stilled, and then she allowed the pretty head to fall back onto the cushions. Only then did she withdraw her hand from under the girl's nightgown. I watched her pass the hand appreciatively under her nose; I watched as she tentatively licked her fingers.
"Marianne I" whispered a small voice.
"Yes?"
"Oh, my God."
"Mmmm."
"Oh, Jesus."
"Ahhh."
"Oh, what you did to me."
"It was what you did to me."
"I can hardly believe it." Marianne chuckled.
"So that's what it's all about."
"That's what."
"Can we do it again?"
Here Marianne hesitated, and then she said, "It's late."
"I know."
"Perhaps we should do it again tomorrow."
"I won't be able to wait."
"Well," answered Marianne with a grin, "now you know what to do if you can't."
"Now I know," Mallory smiled back. "Now I know."
In another minute, the two were huddled beside the door, kissing little kisses, and then Mallory was gone.
Marianne immediately ran to the closet door and pulled it open. There I stood, cock enormous in hand, speechless with lust.
"I'm sorry," she moaned.
But I couldn't answer.
"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry it took so long. But that girl ... " And she grabbed my hand and pulled me out into the light of the fire. My mind was in a whirl. I truly could not speak. I longed to tell her that it was all wonderful and that I loved her and that I would not have missed the last hour for the world, but instead all I could do was stand there, dazed, tingling, unfinished.
Without further speech, Marianne dropped to her knees on the bed and pulled me toward her. Her hot, soft mouth sank over my enflamed erection until the tip of my cock was embedded in her throat. The sensation at first was merely of heat. I was too numb to feel the more delicate titillations. I felt, however, the enormous gathering of my boiling sperm, and I knew I would probably drown her when I came. Her face began to bob over me, her hands cupping my engorged balls, rolling them lightly in their sack. My excitement was such that I knew one orgasm would never suffice. I would be coming for the next week, I knew, in an effort to still this storm that raged in me. Marianne's mouth was clinging wetly to me, up and down, and I was beginning to feel the entire length of her and me, and I knew I would come soon, when the door opened very quietly and Mallory walked in.
She had closed the door and taken two or three steps into the room before her eyes adjusted and she realized suddenly that there was a man in the place. I saw her puzzled look, her confusion, her embarrassment, but I could do nothing else than stand with my cock in Marianne's throat. I couldn't even make my face take on any expression. Nor could I communicate to Marianne that we were no longer alone. My hands fluttered ineffectually around her head, but she took that to mean I was about to come, which, in fact, was true.
Fascinated, Mallory came closer. Her eyes searched mine. She must have known what was happening to me. She must, from her new experience, have known I was about to have an orgasm, just as she had done, and she was drawn to the scene irresistibly. She stepped to the side of the bed. She walked round the corner and drew near. Marianne realized suddenly that there was someone else here, but she never broke her pace. She identified the girl, and then her hand reached Mallory's, and she drew Mallory down beside her. Still fascinated, speechless, the girl knelt beside Marianne, her eyes never leaving the base of my cock as it grew longer and shorter as Marianne's mouth fucked me. Looking down at their two heads in front of me, I knew that I was about to come. I knew that I was beginning. I felt the rushing of tension through me.
Marianne removed her mouth from my cock then, and I cried "No!" in my mind, and she swung the vast bar of flesh toward Mallory. The girl's eyes were like lanterns, they glowed so brightly. Certainly, she had never seen anything like this long, red, beautiful erection, and very gently, she closed her cool, thin fingers around the tip and squeezed.
It was too much. Without a sound from me, the orgasm swept over me. I was coming. Dimly, looking down, I was able to watch the first hard burst of sperm leap from my cock to fly between Mallory's clasping fingers and splash across her forehead in a hot, white line. The girl jerked back in surprise, and before she knew what to do the second stream burst forth. This hit her in' the cheek and down along her neck and throat. Marianne was feverishly trying to grasp my cock and turn it toward her mouth. She managed to get her opened, eager mouth close for the third explosion, and this went down her throat where she wanted it to be. Stream after stream of come jerked from the end of my cock, leaving Marianne's cheeks and chin gummed with my sperm, her mouth filled with thick, white liquid. She swallowed this while licking her lips, pumping the last drops from my straining, great cock and catching them with her tongue. Finally, I began to slow. Finally, the orgasm drew to its close, and my cock, wilting now, swung downward, dribbling a few thin streamers from its red mouth as it died.
Mallory had watched the whole thing, motionless, awed, and Marianne turned now to her and instantly began licking my semen from the girl's forehead and cheek. Marianne's robe had come open during the melee, and I dropped to my knees and opened her long thighs with my hands. Her cunt, very wide and red, was flowing with moisture so heavily that her hair was matted back from her deep gash, her inner lips swollen and shining, her clit as enormous as a marble. I lowered my face into her reeking sex and began to suck her liquor. I took her clit between my lips and licked its stiff, slippery top over and over again. Above me, I felt the girl collapse against us, her mouth in Marianne's mouth, her hands clenching and clutching, her breath whistling through her nostrils. Frantically, Marianne drew Mallory's nightgown up and from the corner of my eye I was able to watch her fingers begin to masturbate the girl into another orgasm. The smell of this other sweet pussy before me, and the sight of Marianne's slippery manipulations between its lips, served to stiffen my cock again. I felt as though I could fuck all night.
Indeed, we almost did. After I had made Marianne come with my mouth, I slipped up on her sweaty body and buried my cock in her. The while, she continued to masturbate Mallory. The girl came in the end, and then I turned Marianne over and fucked her from behind. Mallory lay and watched us during that, gently playing with her cunt, and then she came for a third time just as I did deep in Marianne's body.
After that, exhausted, Mallory and I were introduced. It was funny. We built up the fire a little, had some wine, chatted about this and that. There was absolutely no tension in the girl, and I wondered at that until she explained that she had been waiting for just this sort of thing to happen for so long that she was incapable of feeling anything except relief.
It was not long before the morning was to begin that Mallory left. I had no desire anymore to leave in the night, and after some thought, Marianne and I decided that I ought to stay another day. I don't believe that either of us cared about anything then except the wonderful prospect of sleeping in one another's arms.