Chapter 7
When Bridget Lamothe returned home at dusk, her cheeks flushed from an excitement which derived from more erotic exercise than from food shopping, her brother's lovely young girlfriend was very glad to see her.
Unable to bear remaining in her crumpled bed with vile memories and guilty self-accusations ringing unremittingly through her aching head, Callie arose and showered while, down below, she listened to the beautiful French girl humming happily to herself as she put away the groceries and started dinner. When Callie, dressed in a pair of jeans and her most attractive pullover in an effort to call attention away from her red-rimmed eyes, rather shyly made her way downstairs, Bridget immediately put her at her ease by giving her an exuberant hug.
"Feeling better, cherie?" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad! Give me a hand slicing up these onions? I'm way behind schedule, and Nick-likes his dinner on the table the instant he walks in the door." Smiling warmly at the subdued young blonde, she handed her a knife. "We're having a good old-fashioned, southern fried chicken dinner," she added, "and I bet it'll be the best you ever ate. At least I like to try my hand at cooking all kinds of food."
Bridget Lamothe was sophisticated but so warm and easy-going that Callie felt very comfortable with her. "Ummmmmm ... I'm sure it will be delicious. Jacques always loved the meals I made for him. He even gained weight."
"Men!" Bridget flourished her paring knife in an extravagant gesture. "They're pigs every one. But I love them."
Callie tried to smile, but her expression remained wistful.
"C'mon cherie, be happy," the voluptuous dark-haired girl squeezed Callie's arm warmly. "Didn't we tell you that Nick paid a pretty penny to get the best lawyer in Greece for Jacques? He'll be out of there in no time, honest. And in the meantime, we'll be so busy you can't have the blues. For the time being, Nick has offered you the complete use of his studio out back and supplies so that you can get started painting for that one-woman show that will make you the hit of the art world. And I'll teach you real French cooking."
And teach you a whole lot of even more exciting things, too, the sexually liberated French girl thought. She had to turn and pretend to peer into the fridge to hide the involuntary smile that spread over her lush lips at the erotically thrilling prospect of introducing the innocent young blonde into the joys of cunt-licking.
There was a bottle of white wine cooling in the door compartment of the refrigerator, and Bridget impulsively pulled it out and started to unscrew the cork. Get her a little high, that's just what is needed to loosen some of that reserve, she smiled to herself, and get her pussy all hot and horny.
Not wanting to appear rude or childish, Callie accepted the glass. The cool white wine slid down her throat easily. What with the soothing drink and Bridget's cheerful flow of conversation about all the fun they would have, she began to feel a good deal more cheerful.
Yes, I did the right thing in coming here, Callie told herself, only half-listening as the beautiful French girl chattered on in fluent English about the nice time she'd had today driving around and shopping. And as for last night, I won't let myself thing about it.
Bridget, for her part, wasn't really concentrating on her own words. Instead, she was recalling the nicest part of the afternoon, the hour or so when she and Byron Kealing, whom she'd invited along on her shopping excursion to show him the town, had gone up to his hotel room and explored each other's body with ardent enthusiasm. What a huge, delicious cock the handsome young man had. It wasn't as thick as Nick's, perhaps, but it was unusually long and he sure did know how to use it.
Tiny flames of tingling pleasure flared up in the French girl's sensuous cunt at the memory of her illicit lover, and she felt the cuntband of her panties dampening in renewed desire. I sure hope Nick is horny again tonight, she thought without shame, for Bridget Lamothe had long ago accepted her unquenchable sexual appetites. This pussy of mine just never stops feeling hungry.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the young blonde, who was diligently slicing onions beside her. I wonder if she did hear us fucking last night? she speculated. It's almost impossible that she didn't, what with that damn fool Nick leaving the bedroom door wide open. Maybe that's why she acted so strange this morning.
Callie was a lovely girl, with those soft curves and a face so youthfully pretty that makeup would have been redundant, but she seemed awfully young for her age. Really, it was hard to believe that she'd actually run away to Greece with Jacques, for she seemed far more like a schoolgirl than a woman. Bridget wondered how much difficulty they would have convincing the innocent blonde that group sex could be a source of limitless pleasure.
After their torrid, wildly exciting fucking session was over that afternoon, she and Byron Kealing, her latest lover, had lain lazily in bed and talked about the upcoming weekend. She'd only had to let slip the vaguest of hints about her aspirations before he comprehended what she had in mind, and he'd offered some interesting suggestions.
A couple of years ago, Byron had recounted, he'd been on a tour in California. While there, he'd struck up a friendship with a sexy young hippy chick. She'd invited him to visit some of her friends living in a commune in Santa Cruz.
The members turned out to be young, attractive, and disarmingly liberal, sexually speaking. Byron's young girlfriend, new to the commune despite the fact that she'd had no qualms about letting him fuck her on a one-to-one basis, freaked out when one evening's innocent pot party developed into an orgy. But after a redhead named "Starlight" had followed her into the bedroom and brought her down with skillful kisses and caresses, the uptight girl's cunt had become so hot that she had eventually joined in the group sex session with unbridled enthusiasm.
Again, Bridget glanced at her brother's beautiful young girlfriend. No, she mused, her pulse quickening, I sure wouldn't mind a little cunt-licking by this pretty little thing. I bet those huge sensuous titties of hers feel warm and soft as kittens, and I'd love to show her how much she's been missing, how much sensuality's lying hidden in that ripe young body of hers.
The reveries of both women were interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone in the hallway outside the kitchen. Bridget hurried to answer it, and though Callie tried not to listen to her conversation, it was impossible not to overhear every word through the open doorway. As she listened to the French girl speak to her boyfriend in a voice that suddenly acquired a husky, sultry cadence, her depression suddenly returned.
"But that's the second time this week!" the sexy brunette exclaimed into the receiver. "Oui, I know you can't help it. No, I'm not bitching ... what? No, we gals'll just have a few drinks and wait until you get back. Oui, oui. Did you remember to pick up some scotch?
No, I'm not nagging, cheri. Okay, okay ... just don't you get so tired that I can't have a good fuck after dinner. 'Bye!"
Fantastique! Bridget thought as she reentered the kitchen with a wide smile on her pretty face. Nick is in a sexy mood again. It was several minutes before she noticed that Callie was crying, not just the normal tears one inevitably sheds while chopping a large quantity of onions, but shoulder-shaking sobs.
"Callie!" she exclaimed, moving over to the woebegone blonde and putting an arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong, cherie? Don't cry like that, please."
Callie made a valiant effort to stifle her sobs, but it was impossible to hold back her misery any longer. Half-blinded by tears, she allowed the solicitous older woman to lead her into the comfortable living room and settle her down on a soft, overstuffed sofa.
"Th-thanks, Bridget," Callie managed to stammer as the voluptuous brunette placed a refilled wine glass in her trembling hand and sat down close beside her. "I'm sorry I'm such a silly nuisance, r-really I am."
"Don't be ridiculous, cherie!" Bridget was genuinely sorry for the pitiful blonde, but that didn't stop her from remembering Byron's exciting story.
This might be just the perfect time to put my plan into action, she mused, allowing her hand to caress the young girl's shaking shoulders more warmly than ever. She's vulnerable and lonely and frightened. The sensuous brunette did not consider herself to be corrupting the innocent blonde as she slid close to her on the sumptuous couch, so close that their soft-fleshed feminine thighs were pressed together. As far as Bridget was concerned, sexual satisfaction was the cure-all for all ills. Since the night, nearly eight years ago, when she'd joyfully let a nice older American businessman take her back to his hotel room in Paris and fuck through her cherry, she'd felt secure and happy in her role as a sensual female. Never in her life had she experienced the guilty conflicts which beset her brother's young girlfriend, and therefore it was nearly impossible for her to comprehend what Callie was going through.
"Sssssssshhhhh," she crooned, gently stroking Callie's satin-smooth golden hair as she spoke softly into her ear. "Everything's going to be all right, cherie. You're with friends now. Now, tell Bridget why you're crying."
"N-nothing's wrong really," Callie stuttered miserably. Much as she longed to confide in this sympathetic French girl who seemed so much more knowledgeable about the ways of the world than she herself was, she could not bring herself to confess her heinous secrets. "I'm okay, r-really. Just feeling kinda lonely, you know. And my headache's still b-bothering me ... and ... and..." Her voice trailed off un-convincingly, and Callie gulped nervously at her wine to avoid meeting the other girl's eyes.
"And maybe you heard something last night that upset you?" Bridget completed her naive guest's sentence for her. "Look, cherie, you can talk to me, I'll understand. And you'll feel better when you get it off your chest."
Callie gulped and choked back the last of her tears. She felt vaguely awkward in Jacques's sister's intimate embrace, for she'd been brought up by a very undemonstrative Aunt Lizabeth. Yet, at the same time, she felt soothed and secure.
"I ... I just c-can't talk about it," she sighed at last, setting her empty wine glass down on the coffee table. Bridget smoothly refilled it, and without realizing quite how much she was drinking, Callie again raised it to her lips. "I-I'm s-so ashamed of myself."
"Don't be," Bridget tried to reassure the ill-at-ease blonde. "No one could have helped overhearing us fucking, the way Nick was acting. He's a great guy, don't get me wrong, but he gets in these moods sometimes." Her skillful hands continued to stroke the young blonde's hair, her sweater-covered arms, her slim torso. "Nothing to worry about, cherie!"
"Oh, but you don't know the worst of it!" Callie exclaimed. And then, suddenly, to her own amazement, she heard her tremulous voice blurting out the whole obscene story, from her indecent arousal at the hands of the repulsive Barth Owens to her wild, unwanted cum of last night. By the time she'd finished her half-hysterical tirade and was sobbing, "Oh, God, I think I'm going crazy, Bridget! I never used to act this way! I just don't know what to do!" she was lying in the voluptuous brunette's arms and weeping against her huge, sensuous tits.
When she realized that she was leaning against another woman's titties, Callie edged away. Dabbing at her tears with a tissue, she tried a shaky smile, her pussy tingling strangely.
"But you must think I'm just disgusting ...", her voice came out in a pitiful squeak.
"Of course I don't," Bridget protested indignantly. Feeling the other girl's lithe curvaceous body pressed against hers had brought on a wave of lust, which never lay far beneath the surface of her well-groomed, sophisticated exterior, and she was sorry that Callie had moved away from her.
"You're just a woman with a woman's body like all the rest of us girls," she continued. "Trouble with you is that you don't understand your own body, and that you're all confused about sex and love. You need to relax and get to know your own body, what it needs and wants."
"Well, I do feel pretty tense," Callie faltered, not quite knowing what her self-assured sister-in-law to be was trying to say.
The voluptuous brunette smiled as tingles of anticipation raced through her cunt. There were still a couple of hours before her Nick would be home and that left just enough time to initiate innocent young Callie into the joys of female sensuality. Perhaps Nick would be angry when he discovered that she'd had first go at the young blonde he so lusted after, but in the long run he'd surely thank her for paving his way into the uptight young blonde's hot little pussy.
"C'mon, cherie," Bridget murmured sympathetically. "I'm going to teach you how to relax those muscles and get in touch with your own body. Lie down here on the couch and let me give you a nice massage. That's just the thing you need right now."
A massage? Something about the very word conjured up sinful connotations in Callie's alcohol-dulled brain, though she couldn't remember just why. Oh, yes-nasty massage parlors, which she'd read about in the papers, were really nothing but whorehouses.
"Oh, no, Bridget, I don't think so," murmured the young blonde weakly. "I ... I mean ...",
"Sssssssshhhhh," Bridget brushed away her protestations and gently eased her flat on her stomach on the couch, slipping a fat pillow under her head for comfort. "I'm just taking the knots out of those tight muscles with a nice backrub. You just lie still and take it easy, cherie, and remember that your body's supposed to give you pleasure, not problems."
Callie obeyed, feeling too dizzy to protest. I guess I shouldn't have had so many glasses of wine, she thought drowsily as she leaned her tear-stained cheek against a silk-covered pillow and closed her eyes. Bridget's artful caresses along her back and jean-protected ass-cheeks were making her feel calmer, and she ignored the silly suspicions lingering in the back of her brain which told her that Bridget's hypnotic, kneading motions were too intimate, too erotic.
"What a beautiful body you have, Callie," the brunette murmured, and her innocent houseguest shivered as silken strands of the brunette girl's shoulder-length hair brushed over her neck. "So feminine, so lovely ... no wonder my brother loves you. But he's a man and men can be so cruel, because they don't really understand how sensitive a woman is, especially a young girl like you. Only another girl can really understand how to help another."
Yes, Callie agreed silently as Bridget's skillful fingers worked their way up under her pullover sweater. I do feel good. Her hands are so gentle, and she's really trying to make me feel happier. Even Jacques never treated me so tenderly-men just don't know how.
Callie O'Hara was a good deal drunker than she realized, and her emotional stability was at such a low ebb that she was more than willing to be taken care of by someone who knew what she was doing. She felt too weak to make any protest as Bridget carefully guided her body over so that she lay on her back with her eyes still clenched shut and her huge sensuous tits trembling beneath her sweater with every shaky breath she drew.
Bridget could feel the younger girl's muscles, which had initially been taut as steel cables, growing pliant beneath her knowledgeable touch. Her own breath quickened in desire as she gazed down at the luxuriant female body beneath her, and she cautiously, subtly, slipped her fingers beneath the blue pullover. Callie's warm white skin felt soft and warm beneath her tingling fingers as she eased slowly toward the other girl's huge, softly trembling tits, and she marveled at how different, how excitingly dissimilar, a woman's body was from a man's. She loved touching other women's titties, delighted in being caressed in return. It was a quieter, more subdued pleasure than that which she received from a man's long thick prick fucking inside her pussy, but it was an utterly satisfying form of eroticism. Pressing her legs together as a shiver of lust began to dance through her body, Bridget eased her hands around to unfasten Callie's white cotton bra.
To the brunette's rather surprised delight, the young blonde offered only token resistance to the removal of her bra. She murmured, "All right, yes, yes," in a tone of whimpering submission as Bridget whispered that this was essential if she were really to relax, then lay back limply as the older girl began kneading and stroking the ivory white flesh of her nakedly trembling titties.
She really is hot-blooded and sensual, after all, Bridget rejoiced silently as she gently unzipped the blonde's denim pants. Wow, Nick is really going to dig her!
Callie continued to hold her eyes shut, for she realized intuitively that if she actually saw what the other woman's hands were doing to her tingling body, she'd never be able to rationalize away the sensuous stroking motions as being therapeutic. Although she caught her breath as Jacques's sister's teasing fingertips began to play over the ultra-sensitive nipples and she heard her protective bra flutter to the carpet beside the couch, somehow she could not bring herself to make a real protest. She just felt too warmly wonderful to interfere with the titillating sensations gliding over every inch of her ripe young body.
"Nothing like a nice massage," the girl above murmured. "Doesn't your body feel gooooooddddd now, Callie cherie?"
The twenty-year-old blonde made an incoherent murmuring sound, not daring to allow herself to reply. That, quite like opening her eyes, would have meant acknowledging exactly what she was allowing to happen.
I know this is sinful, and I ought to stop her, her muddled mind whirled, but I don't want to. For the first time in ages I feel warm ... happy ... secure ... and my pussy is becoming so hot!
"Such beautiful titties," Bridget breathed in the young artist's ear. "And such a beautiful little belly ...", As she spoke, she eased the other girl's jeans over her smoothly curved ass-cheeks, pulling the white cotton panties along with the jeans to reveal a luxuriant cluster of softly curling golden pussy hairs. "Uuuuuummmmm ... feels good, doesn't it?"
"Ooooooooohhhhhh, yessssss!" moaned Callie, and then her cheeks turned bright pink as she heard her lewd outcry echo through the living room.
Really, she's going too far. What's she trying to do? The innocent girl's mind reeled. Instinct told her that it was definitely time to put a stop to this pleasant but illicitly intimate massage, but as Bridget's experienced fingers trailed down over her pussy mound, she felt all the nerves down there in her blondely furred cunt untensing and couldn't bring herself to put an end to the delicious sensations. Her flesh seemed to be melting, merging with the older girl's voluptuous body as she slowly eased her hotly trembling body down on top of her new friend.
Oh God, what would Jacques think if he knew what I'm doing? Callie thought distractedly, but then all thoughts of her absent lover faded into oblivion as the more experienced French girl's outstretched middle finger slipped along the blonde curl-rimmed crevice of her involuntarily dampening cunt. The invading digit slid slowly over the sensitive slit of her helplessly quivering pussy-hole, and an unwanted sigh of ecstasy spilled from her lips before she could stop herself.
"No ... no ... pleeeeeeze, Bridget, you m-mustn't," Callie managed to stammer, but as the other girl continued to tease at her excitedly tautened nipples and tiny, wantonly quivering clit, her protests faded into a low wail of uncontrollable arousal.
"Ooooohhh!" breathed Bridget. "I like to make you feel happy. And anything that makes you feel happy is good."
Callie certainly didn't know anything of the sort, for she'd been raised under a strict ethic which made all things pleasurable, and particularly physically pleasurable, automatically sinful. This new concept distracted her as the other girl massaged her initially resistant young pussy into a blossoming flower of desire whose coral-pink flanges spread wider and wider as Bridget's insistent fingers fondled them.
"I'm just another girl, just like you," the sultry brunette crooned. "I can teach you how to use your body like a real woman, without hang-ups and self-hate ...",
Bridget's obscenely tantalizing finger moved over the other girl's hugely pulsating little clitoral bud again and again, first rapidly, then in slow motion, then pausing entirely for a feverish second during which Callie was heartily ashamed to hear herself moan in involuntary sexual hunger. Her voluptuous naked body seemed to have turned into one formless mass of invincible bliss, and she no longer even thought of trying to hold back the powerful cum that was growing deep within her cunt. And then, suddenly, sooner than Bridget had expected, the girl beneath her tensed, then spasmed convulsively as low, ecstatic cries gurgled from her throat. Squirming her own pussy down against the wildly cumming girl's nakedly trembling thighs, she strove for her own climax. The blonde's skin was so soft, so seductively fragrant, and her lushly curved body jerked and thrashed in such obvious erotic ecstasy.
Within moments, Bridget was also wallowing in the throes of a powerful orgasm, her wantonly cumming pussy grinding hotly against the mewling girl's hand as they writhed in mutual rhythmic release upon the soft sofa.
Callie felt as though she was dying of delirious fulfillment as her hotly quivering cunt shuddered in ecstasy beneath the wanton brunette's skilled, pussy-exciting fingers.
She fell into a rainbow-sparkling cloud of bliss as wave after wave of pure physical sensation cascaded over her from the top of her head to the tips of her involuntarily curling white toes. Every time the incredible feeling started to fade, Bridget would, despite her own overwhelming orgasm, once again finger-fuck her wildly quivering pussy and send yet another sensual shudder of indescribable ecstasy shooting through her hot, vibrating young cunt. It seemed to go on and on for an eternity, until as last, Callie collapsed in unconscious satiation upon the sofa.
Bridget, her huge sensuous tits quivering from her own explosive cum, lay down beside the half-naked, perspiration slick body of her brother's girlfriend. For several minutes she struggled to regain her breath ... the young girl's pussy was so sensual, so soft and hot.
Suddenly, just as both girls were dozing off into a blissful, post-orgasmic slumber, there came the unmistakable thud of Nick's heavy boots on the porch. Callie was too dazed to be aware of anything save her own still-trembling young cunt, but raven-haired Bridget jolted into instant alert wakefulness.
"Cherie! Get up!" she hissed into the young blonde's ear. When there was no response, she forcefully tugged the tousle-haired artist to her feet and shepherded her toward the stairs. "Get into the shower, or into bed, cherie," she ordered. "Nick's back."
Callie stumbled numbly into the guest bedroom which had now become her private sanctuary. Too dazed by the unanticipated events of the evening to think clearly, she fell dizzily into bed and didn't wake until the hazy morning sun was shining on her pillow.
While the young blonde artist collapsed on her bed, the more self-assured, worldly French girl was greeting her boyfriend Nick. A thrill of illicit passion throbbed through her bloodstream as she thought of how she had made love twice today without Nick's knowledge, and something in her manner gave away her inner erotic excitement. Immediately after dinner and several whiskeys, Nick dragged his eager girlfriend upstairs and fucked her cunt with the same passion he'd displayed the previous evening.
Callie was sleeping too deeply to awaken at the loud sounds of their uninhibited fucking in the adjoining room, but the erotic noises penetrated her dreams ...
Callie was intensely ashamed of having allowed Bridget to finger-fuck her pussy the day before, but the voluptuous French girl acted so natural and cheerful that it was easy to push the perverted incident to the farthest corner of her mind. They spent most of the day cleaning up the house for the weekend guest, Byron Kealing, and as they worked together in the kitchen, it was difficult to believe that this charming brunette girl had actually fingered her to orgasm right on the living room sofa.
After they'd all had a few drinks early that evening, Bridget flashed the young blonde a few meaningful looks and even went so far as to give her a loving kiss when they brushed against each other in the hall leading from the living room into the kitchen. Callie knew she ought to feel more guilty than she did, but oddly enough she only felt a tingling pleasure and deep lying tranquility. Even Nick's smoldering glances didn't really bother her; for the first time in her life, she felt a warm glow of feminine pride instead of repugnance as the interested male eyes undressed her curvaceous young body.
The pretty blonde's good spirits prevailed throughout the next day as well after they had picked up the young musician at his hotel, and she found herself laughing even at Nick's and Byron's somewhat naughty jokes and joining in the conversation in a far more extroverted manner than usual as the four young people took a drive around the island. It was wonderful to be driving through a landscape so unpopulated that they scarcely ever passed another car. In her overwhelming wonder at the beauty of the scenery, Callie managed to shelve her guilty self-doubts. Every time she recalled her shameful activities of the past few days, Nick or Bridget or Byron would make an amusing comment which served to distract her. Around these carefree people, it was difficult to heed the dictates of one's conscience.
"We're back home," Nick, who was driving, reached over and patted Callie's bare knee. "Home, sweet home."
A tremor of familiar nervous embarrassment wafted through the blonde as the handsome artist's touch lingered a shade too long and intimately upon her leg, but then she told herself not to be ridiculous. After all, Bridget was there, and he surely didn't mean anything suggestive by merely patting her knee.
Still, I sort of wish I was sitting in the back seat with Bridget, with the guys in the front like before, Callie thought to herself. Somehow, when they'd stopped for gas, she'd ended up in the front beside Nick, with Bridget in the back with Byron Kealing. You'd think she'd feel kind of funny sitting so close to him.
"You have a very nice beach house," she smiled politely at the tawny-haired artist. "I-I've enjoyed my stay so far ...",
Nick grinned back at her, and something in his eyes made her suddenly feel so awkward and ill at ease that she swiveled around toward the couple in the back seat. Gosh! It seemed to Callie that Byron and Bridget were sitting rather closer together than strictly necessary.
Then, as the naive young blonde's vision suddenly blurred in astonishment, she snapped her head around to stare fixedly out the car's windshield. Oh God! It couldn't be true! It was unthinkable! Bridget's red-nailed hand couldn't really have been caressing the thick bulge between the young musician's legs.
Callie's shock-widened green eyes focused dizzily on the man beside her as her startled mind screamed, No! She can't be doing something so lewd, not with her boyfriend sitting two feet away. Abruptly, she realized that Nick was smirking at her and winking. He knows! her brain reeled in bewildered confusion. He knows that his own girlfriend is playing with a strange man's cock, and he thinks it's amusing!
And then, the car was pulling to a halt in front of the secluded house, and everyone was piling out of the car and acting as if nothing had happened at all.