Chapter 5
Monique Griffith's lips parted for that large, pink nipple. Amanda Fenn's appetizing breast edged forward. Monique thought it the most beautiful thing in creation. Hungrily, she planted her mouth over it and sucked. The younger woman sobbed at her pucker.
"Yes, darling," Amanda gasped, then shoved that tit at her. "Here, more."
The auburn-haired wife of Tom Griffith gladly accepted her gift. At forty, she still created quite a sensation between the genders. A native of France, she held a mystique many found irresistible. European women, particularly those of pronounced accents and graceful carriage, appeared far more sensual than their American counterparts. In that manner, Monique was quite a success.
She had a peasant's body: large, rounded breasts that tapered to a slim waist, then curved hips. She was a visual feast, and aware of it. Exhibitionist qualities stemmed from that confidence. She enjoyed parading herself before the eyes of delighted spectators. Her body spoke its own language and reached a wide, appreciative audience.
"You are so good," Monique murmured in her melodious voice. Amanda's flesh melted in her mouth.
Amanda moaned from her feathery stroke. To have an older love was one thing, but to have one of exotic origin another. She couldn't have obtained the same pleasure from a man. Monique was gentle and knowledgeable. She revealed another secret of sexual fulfillment in each session.
Monique preferred women to men. Although she roused passion in both, women quenched her thirst. Nothing rivaled the female tongue. Its dainty flick summoned her lust. Smooth, satin flesh awakened her ardor, too. She loved all that appealing softness.
Men were too coarse and hard. Upon occasion, Monique had a yen for one-principally, her husband-but essentially chose female partners. Women were her first love.
Tom wasn't the least caring. He knew of her orientation and permitted her that freedom, contingent on her utter discretion. She served as an ornament to his professional engagements. People viewed her as imagine window dressing-a glamorously cultured woman. She lent him sophistication and nobility.
In rare instances, Monique stumbled upon whispered discussions in which she was described as "Eurotrash" and a "French whore." She projected ignorance as she mingled with the crowd, but promptly notified her husband. Within seconds of his enlightenment, Tom had the offender banished from the premises.
Tom issued her a severe warning: nothing scandalous could ever reach the media. He lectured her on the importance of a clean image. Her private life was not, nor should ever be, for public consumption. If she violated that rule, he would throw her out without a cent. Their prenuptial agreement stipulated that clause.
Per their arrangement, Monique maintained a low profile when conducting her affairs. She trifled with her female lovers in a secret apartment financed by the company. It was listed as corporate property and reserved for out-of-town guests. Monique had often writhed on the sheets of its king-sized bed, shivering from the assault of another woman's tongue.
Her affair with Amanda spanned several months. She met the svelte, thirty-two year old brunette at an art gallery featuring some of her paintings. Impressed with her talent, Monique commissioned Amanda to do her portrait. Amanda suggested doing her nude. Before the completion of their first session, the women abandoned themselves in a tangle of arms and legs. Monique took Amanda's tongue in her pussy and gladly reciprocated. From there, they became inseparable.
Amanda shut her eyes as Monique sampled her tasty nipples. She sucked her to distraction. Those swirling lashes had her swooning. "You must stop," she quietly advised. "Tom insisted you attend that party."
Monique detached from her pointed stub. She left that pink nugget in a wreath of tiny bubbles. "I'm boycotting it, darling."
"But you can't. Tom indicated-"
Monique held up her hand. "Enough. I have made my decision."
Amanda fretted before those lips came swooping down on her, then gasped as they absorbed her swollen nugget. Monique drew passionately upon it, disarranging her thoughts. Her suck silenced her.
Panting, they tumbled onto the bed.
Brad Voight's party was an appointment she would deliberately miss. Monique planned to be defiantly absent. Why should she leave the arms of the woman she cherished for that wretched man? Yes, Tom had demanded she go. He wished her draped on his arm, charming the masses. To hell with her pig husband! It would not happen.
Amanda's slinky legs came apart. Monique massaged her sodden mound. Her thumb sank into her juicy crevice. The woman's excitement pleased her. She stuck a finger into her wet cunt and slowly pumped it.
"You don't want me to leave," she murmured. "Not when you are in this condition."
Amanda blindly shook her head. A fine mist glazed her eyes. Her tongue skimmed the borders of her red mouth, then ran across her teeth. Her hips moved while Monique's digit probed her. Her exploration brought heavy gasps.
Monique used two fingers while combing through the brown wisps with her thumb. She gazed at the nipples she had just tasted. Her saliva still glistened on them.
Unable to check her hunger, Monique dropped her head. She pinned back those damp flaps, then used her tongue. Amanda sobbed from the initial contact, then shivered. Monique licked her slowly, savoring the woman's flavor.
"Oh, Monique," she exhaled, receiving those thrilling lashes. She constantly repositioned herself for the best angle. "Oh, yes, don't stop."
"Mmmmm," purred the older woman, happily observing her enjoyment. She exhibited a flair for oral pleasure and made her performances unforgettable. If not, she reasoned, her young lover might drift.
She had no worry of that occurring anytime soon. Amanda pushed her pussy into her mouth, then rotated her hips. Monique wriggled into that nectar-rich pocket, pressing her lips to her palatable flesh. Amanda's secretions filled her mouth. She separated the walls of her cunt, then sucked. Amanda's sugared fluids poured down her throat.
"I want you, too, baby," Amanda said.
Without missing a beat, Monique swung herself over Amanda's face and sat on her extended tongue. She pushed down, clenching her teeth. Amanda impaled her. Her pussy opened at her serpentine insistence. "That feels so good, love."
Monique made a feast of Amanda's cunt. Up and down that slick crack she licked, drawing her honey. The woman's sex dew trickled for her consumption. Motivated by her prolonged gasps, Monique meticulously cleaned her.
"Suck it," Amanda pleaded, lifting her hips and smashing all she could between Monique's lips. "More. Please, baby. More."
Monique cupped the cheeks of her ass, then plunged into her lover's warm, delicious pulp. She tongue-fucked her, stabbing into her quivering hole.
At her penetration, Amanda moaned. Monique stirred her into a frenzy. She channeled that excitement into fiercer suction. Exhaustively, she ate Monique, gleaning her snatch of its natural sweetness. The woman's tangy leakage filled her cheeks before she swallowed.
Monique basked in Amanda's oral warmth. Attuned to what turned her on, the young woman completely satisfied her. Amanda knew how to bring her to swift, dizzying orgasm. Her tongue didn't stop, even after Monique shuddered with her final contraction. Amanda lengthened their sessions by renewing her excitement. Her relentless lapping bridged one orgasm to the next. Monique lost count and merely rode out the pleasure her generous lover furnished.
She squeezed the nectar from Amanda's cunt lips, then delved into her drenched center. The refreshment she liked best seeped from that orifice. She washed it in her saliva, then drank. Her slurp ended with a hook to her clit. Amanda's bud pulsed madly against her flickering tip. Monique concentrated on it, brushing harder.
Amanda soon trembled. "Oh, baby. I'm going to cum."
Her husky cry supplied Monique the necessary incentive. She sucked and licked her into a screaming wreck. The woman writhed beneath her, moving like fire. Monique seized her shaking flesh and whipped that throbbing button.
Amanda reattached herself, but could not resume her previous intensity. Monique's slobbering dominated her senses. Her hazel pupils rolled and her jaw dropped when she peaked.
"God," Amanda whimpered, riddled with contractions. "Oh, my God. Monique!"
Monique took that seizure-ridden mound into her mouth and sucked its spurting juices. At the same time, she shoved her pussy into Amanda, muffling her cries. Amanda's tongue faintly flickered over her clit. She ground herself to those quivering lips, willing her to finish. Even in the heat of orgasm, Amanda managed.
"Mmmmm," Monique sobbed, ready to cum. She creamed on her face, full of tongue. Temporarily, she went numb, jolted by the impact. Every nerve sizzled.
Amanda gulped her surge of leakage. Her tongue adjusted to her jerking movement, pursuing its beat. Gradually, Monique lapsed into a cozy frame. Amanda brought her off nicely.
They kissed passionately, exchanging tongues. Monique tasted her pussy on Amanda, then dipped into her mouth so that she could sample her own spice. They lovingly shared flavors. Monique caressed Amanda's cheek while their tongues entwined.
The phone rang, shattering her afterglow. Monique hesitantly lifted the receiver. "Hello?" she asked in French, barely masking her perturbation.
"Your payment is late. I expected it two days ago."
Her brow furrowed. She loathed the person calling. "Please hold the line." She excused herself from Amanda and went into the other room. "How dare you bother me at this hour."
"I haven't the time for your theatrics, Monique. I want my money now. Either you compensate me in the usual manner, or I take my goods to the press."
"You will not!" she snarled.
Laughter echoed from the other end. "Don't challenge me, bitch. I would welcome the opportunity of submitting my incriminating collection of lesbian photographs to the media at large."
She sighed. "I haven't the time to transfer that sum. The banks are closed."
"That's your problem, not mine. You can have a two-hour extension to iron that out. Otherwise, it'll be newsworthy dirt, hot off the wire."
The phone went dead in her hand. Angrily, she hurled the instrument.
She could not risk that information falling into the public's hands. Tom would throw her out on her ear after the scandal broke. He'd never forgive her for subjecting the company to such shock treatment.
As Tom Griffith's wife, she enjoyed the many benefits that had been unavailable to her when single. His wealth enabled her to travel, purchase jewelry at whim and drive the fanciest cars. Her generous clothing allowance permitted her to have a professionally designed wardrobe. She refused to dispense with the prestige and glamour of being a chairman's wife. She'd grown accustomed to such entitlements and panicked at the threat of being stripped of them.
God, she thought. Why did she have to be blackmailed by one of her husband's top executives?