Chapter 2
AMY EDWARDS LET THE CURTAIN FALL BACK INTO place at her front kitchen window and remarked to herself that the deliveryman had certainly been in Gloria's house for a long time.
Now he was driving away and Amy left the window with a sigh.
She couldn't bring herself to act the way Gloria did-giving it to any Tom, Dick or Harry. Or giving it to any dick, she amended. Tom and Harry were superfluous.
The tall, tousle-headed blonde strolled into the living room and wondered what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the day. Boredom was her problem. She supposed boredom probably explained Gloria's conduct, too, and there was no doubt that some plain and imagine screwing on a lazy afternoon added zest to one's life. But with a deliveryman? Really!
Because of the way the streets in the expensive subdivision curved through the hills, and because of the trees and shrubbery which were planted between the houses, Amy's house was the only one which afforded a view of Gloria's. Therefore, only Amy knew of the hanky-panky which frequently occurred there. Sometimes a man would drive up in a car, evidently by appointment, and be let right in; sometimes Gloria entertained a meter reader, door-to-door salesman, or delivery truck driver, as today. Amy had never told anyone what she saw because she wasn't the gossipy sort. Anyway, if word got around the neighborhood, it would inevitably find its way to her husband, Pete, and Pete, hound dog that he was, would start sniffing around Gloria's place himself. It was bad enough that Amy had to contend with Pete's occasional affairs with clients of his reupholstering business. A floozy right across the street would be a bit too much.
Amy glanced at the clock. It was 2:25. Was that too early to have a little drink? she wondered.
Of course not. As long as she made it only one.
Or two, at the most.
She sauntered to the bar and poured.
Amy had long and exceptionally beautiful legs, a pert rear, and thrusty, cylindrical tits that stood very nicely of their own accord. Of course, she had a bra on now, and she was dressed in sleek green stretch-pants with a white top.
Because of a very slight protrusion of her upper teeth, her mouth had a somewhat downward slant when her features were composed. But this condition prevailed rarely, for Amy's features were almost always in motion. She smiled readily, and her eyes and lips and nose all got into it. Her eyes were greenish and she was a natural blonde, though she lightened the hair on her head with a rinse.
Carrying her drink, she walked to the long, green sofa in front of the patio windows and sat on it. She slid one leg over the other. She glanced at the clock again.
There was little on television that interested her in the afternoon. Today she didn't feel like turning the set on.
What to do?
She got up and, sipping at her drink as she walked, moved through the sprawling, ranch-style house, into the central hall, and back to the master bedroom.
She hadn't consciously decided that she was going to take out the paperback novel she had stashed yesterday, half-read, in a drawer underneath her undies. Something just seemed to draw her to the dresser. Only when she slipped the drawer open did she consciously realize what she was up to.
Well, why not? It would help her pass the time. She lay down on top of the bed, with her drink on the nightstand at her side, and she turned to the page of the novel which she had crimped. She read:
Rick's hand slid into the open front of Stella's blouse and wrapped itself around her voluptuous left breast. He began to squeeze and roll the resilient mound, causing its nipple to rise against his palm.
She said, "Oooh, Rick ... darling ... we shouldn't do this ... "
She felt Rick's warm breath against her quivering globe as he studied the puckering nipple at close range, then with a little growl he bent the rest of the way and gathered that luscious tidbit into his mouth.
He chewed on it gently, then pulled it deeper and sucked as his tongue lapped the surrounding soft flesh.
Almost without realizing it, Amy's hand had crept to her own bosom and she was massaging her own left breast, feeling the nipple rise within her bra.
Yesterday was starting to repeat itself.
As the prose became more and more graphic, Amy's caressing of herself became more urgent. Her nipple began to ache. It needed freedom.
She lay the book aside for a moment, knocked down the rest of her drink, and sat up to haul her knitted blouse up and over her head.
She took her bra off, too.
You little devils, she thought, as she looked down at her shapely projecting tits. The nipple of the left one was standing rigidly erect, while the right was still flaccid. That wouldn't do, she decided. She should have a matching set.
Gently and lovingly, she cupped both tits-one in each hand-and began to knead them, at the same time rubbing her thumbs back and forth, across the light-pink nipples. The left nipple bent this way and that. The right nipple rose. Soon it was bending also.
Oooh, Pete, she thought. Why the dickens aren't you here to suck them?
She had to release one breast in order to pick up her book, but she made allowance for this by cradling both titties in one arm and handling one as she rubbed her arm against the other.
Rick now had his girl friend down and was removing her panties. The panties were moist, the author pointed out.
Amy's panties were moist, too.
After getting Rick to the point where he was about to remove his own clothes, Amy decided she had better have that second drink. So with her jutting breasts bobbing pertly, nipples extended she walked through the house, carrying her empty glass.
Just then the door chimes sounded.
Oh, God! Who was that? Of all times for somebody to come calling!
Because her front door was solid wood, she had no way of knowing who the caller was. She could simply have failed to answer, but if the caller was a friend from the neighborhood, they would know she was home. The old car she drove on shopping errands was parked in the driveway.
She stopped near the door, cleared her throat, and called, "Just a minute..."
She ran back to the bedroom, breasts leaping crazily, and tossed the paperback novel under the bed. She picked up her blouse and bra, decided she didn't have time to put the bra on, and tossed that under the bed, also. She slithered into the blouse and pulled it down over her naked tits. A quick look in the mirror was followed by some frantic fussing with her hair.
She returned to the front of the house and took a deep breath to compose herself before she opened the door.
"Well, hi!" chirped blonde Patty Claiborne, who lived down the street, "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"
"Oh, no," Amy smiled. She was a little flushed. "I was just changing clothes."
"At this hour?" Patty asked as Amy let her in.
"I was trying something on."
"Something new? Let me see."
Amy squirmed. "It's nothing, really."
Patty's gaze lit on the empty liquor glass which the other girl left unthinkingly in a prominent position on a small table in the entry hall. Amy noticed the direction of Patty's glance.
"Oooh," Amy said. "Want a drink?"
"If you're serving, I'm taking," her friend replied breezily as she moved on into the living room. "I've just been shopping in town and I'm tired and hot."
"Did you find anything nice?" Amy asked as she went to the bar to pour.
"Nothing much. Some pants and tops. They're being sent."
"Is Scotch all right?" Amy called "Great."
Amy brought two drinks and sat down beside her friend on the sofa.
Patty's hair was an ashen shade, while Amy's was more golden, and Patty wore hers in a teased style, fluffed out. Patty's figure was a bit thicker through the hips and she had a less projecting bosom. She was shorter and her thighs were fuller at the tops.
Today she was wearing a beige two-piece outfit with tan stockings and medium heels.
"Say, have you heard about the hot love affair up the street?" Patty asked after taking a quick sip of the booze.
Amy shook her head.
"I'm talking about Tom Fraser and Joan Brooks."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. The word is out. Tom did some bragging at the Drifter's Bar, and my man picked it up. It's probably all over town by now."
"Do you think Joan's husband knows about it?"
"I don't think he hangs out in the joints very much, but some good-Samaritan joe is sure to tell him."
"Poor Joanie," Amy breathed.
"Yeah." Patty took another sip of her drink.
"You know, Tom's a pretty attractive guy. I can understand how she went for him."
"Sure. So can I. But it's mighty dangerous to fool around right in the neighborhood."
"You aren't kidding. I don't know Kay Fraser very well, but she doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would put up with that."
'I'll bet she won't. Tom's only hope is that the word won't get to her. He was such a shit-head to talk."
"Well, he drinks pretty heavily. And, you know, when a guy gets drunk, the first thing he tries to do is build himself up in the eyes of the other guys."
"That's for sure," Patty set her empty glass down. "Mmmmm. That hit the spot."
"Another?"
"Well ... do you want one."
"Sure."
"Then I'll join you."
Amy noticed that Patty was looking at her critically when she returned with the replenished glasses.
"Hey, don't you have a bra on under that blouse?" Patty asked.
"No," Amy said with an embarrassed laugh. "I told you I was changing when you arrived."
"You look mighty sexy that way," Patty said, her voice roughening a trifle. "I could tell by the jiggle that you weren't wearing a bra, but your boobs shove out so nice, even without one." She took a quick sip from her glass.
"Let me see them, hm?"
"Whaaat?"
"Take your blouse off," Patty smiled. "I want to look at your tits."
Amy laughed. "Pat, what a thing to say!"
"I mean it. My man's such a tit-bug, and he's been complaining that mine have been getting soft lately. I want to see what a good set looks like."
"Kid, you're embarrassing me!"
"Nonsense. We're just girls together. Take your blouse off."
It was an impertinent thing to ask. Amy wasn't sure what her response might be. But she had a tickling urge to give in to the request and decided: What the hell. Why not do it?
"Well, I don't think mine are so great," she said as she set her glass down and prepared to pull up her blouse.
She noted that Patty's eyes were narrowing, almost tensely. For a moment, Amy experienced a nameless fear. But she shrugged it off. She had been nude in the presence of girls when she went to college, and nothing out of line had ever happened. She conveniently failed to recall that she had wished more than once, when she and another girl had been alone in the dorm naked, that the other girl would start some action. Amy had never had the nerve to do so.
She brought her blouse up, and her jutting tits gave a sexy hop as the fabric pulled away from them.
"Oooh, honey, they do stick out!" Patty breathed.
"I'll bet yours are just as good," Amy said, without consciously realizing where this might lead.
Patty took a fast sip and put down her glass. She was feeling the booze nicely now.
"I have an idea," she exclaimed, hopping to her feet. "Let's compare builds. Yours against mine."
"Oh ... Patty!"
"Come on. Don't be chicken. Who'll ever know?" She was starting to undress.
It was one of the wildest things that had ever happened to Amy. She wasn't at all sure that she wanted it to happen. But there was a zinging sensation going through her. The Scotch had her head light.
She watched as Patty took off her beige jacket, revealing a white brassiere. The other girl reached behind her and unhooked the harness. The bra fluttered away.
Amy became more excited as she gazed at the other girl's naked breasts. They didn't project very much, it was true, and were kind of soft-looking. But since they weren't large, they didn't really hang. Amy found them daintily appealing with their small nipple rings surrounding rigidly up-thrust tips. Both tips and disks were wider, pale pink and smooth. But the boobs jutted far better than Patty's.
"Come on," Patty said, gripping Amy's arm. "Let's get in front of a mirror."
Amy started to move toward a small oval mirror on the living room wall, but Patty tugged her toward the rear of the house. "Let's go into the bedroom," she said.
Amy went with her, excitement continuing to build in her veins.
What was she expecting? What was she afraid of, if fear it was? She didn't know ... at least, not on the conscious level.
The two blondes stood in front of Amy's wide dresser mirror. Each turned a little, this way and that, preening.
"I like your nipples," Amy heard herself say as her voice sounded a little hoarse. "They're so thick and long."
"like little peckers, my Art says," Patty retorted with a laugh.
"Does he talk to you that way?" Amy wanted to know. "We say everything to each other. Don't you and Pete."
"Well ... sometimes Pete gets a little salty. But I don't think he'd use a word like ... pecker." Amy laughed at the sound of it dropping trom her own lips.
"You prefer cock? Or prick? How about dick?"
"Oh, Patty!" Amy said, turning red. "You're shameless."
"Go on! You've thought those words many times. Why not come out with them? That's the trouble with people-they keep too many things bottled up. Do you mind if I touch your tits, honey?"
Amy's throat tightened. But she said, "Go ahead, if you want to."
Patty slowly reached and took hold of one of Amy's cylindrical, tapering breasts from underneath. She tested its firmness, and a new blast of excitement went off inside the other girl.
"Oooh, yes!" Patty said. "Firm as anything! God, my Art would love you."
"Patty . ". "
She took hold of both boobs at once and squeezed them rhythmically. Now she palmed the tingling nipples. Amy's lightheadedness increased. She felt shaky on her legs.
"You can touch them if you want to," Patty invited huskily.
Amy did. She marveled at the warm, satiny softness. She had never touched another girl's breasts before. It was altogether different from touching her own. She flicked one of Patty's little nipples back and forth.
"Mmmmm ... angel ... you are going to make me awful hot!" Patty's head was tilted back slightly and her eyes were closed. She arched her chest against Amy's hands.
Amy already was hot and suddenly she realized it. Her pants had gotten moist again, just as they were when she was reading the sex story.
Patty's fingers, twiddling and tugging at her nipples, became the fingers of the fictional lover, Rick. Amy shut her eyes. Her breath was coming hard.
"Come on," she heard Patty murmur. "Let's get on the bed. I can show you a real good time."
Amy's eyes popped open. Fear was in them.
"Come on," Patty said again, urgently. "We'd be fools not to."
"Patty, are you...? " She left the question dangling.
"A Lesbian? No. There's nothing I enjoy more than being bedded by a man. But that's not the whole world; let's face it. Honey, don't tell me you never diddled yourself?"
"WeU, I ... "
"Sure you have. So have I. Everyone does. Now, if your own hands can give you pleasure, think of how much pleasure another woman's hands can give you. And another woman's mouth ... "
"Oooh, Patty ... "
"Get on the bed."
Patty was sliding out of her skirt and half-slip taking both garments off at once. This left her in blue briefs, the bikini kind, under a white garter belt. Patty's thighs were gorgeously full at their tops.
"What are we doing?" Amy asked, directing the question as much at herself as at the other woman.
"We're having fun. That's all. Now get on the bed."
Amy obeyed, stretching out on her back. She couldn't remember when she had been so tense with excitement-perhaps on her wedding night with Pete, but not since then.
Patty skinned out of her stockings, then her garter belt, finally her pants. She moved to the bed totally nude, her smallish tits trembling and brownish-blonde bush at her loins holding Amy spellbound with fascination.
Patty got down on the bed beside her, and she rolled Amy into her arms. Patty began to kiss her about the face.
It was the weirdest, wildest sensation. Patty's lips were so soft and gentle; her cheeks were so smooth; she felt nothing like a man and she didn't smell like one, either. God help her, Amy thought at this moment, she liked Patty's presence better.
She raised her arms around Patty's back and gripped hard. "Oooh, love me!" she cried.
Patty found her lips and pressed them with her own. Both mouths opened. Patty teased Amy with the tip of her tongue.
Patty even tasted different from Pete. She used her tongue differently. Now her hands were caressing Amy's breasts and the touch there was more delicate. Amy thrilled wildly. There didn't seem to be any limit to the excitement she could feel.
Slowly Patty began to tug off her stretch-pants and the clinging briefs she wore beneath them.
"Oooh, it's too good to be true," Patty crooned, as she gazed at Amy's blonde-haired mound. "You're as real as I am!"
Then suddenly she was removing Amy's pants and underpants with lightning speed. Amy helped to kick them off. Patty ran electric fingertips up and down Amy's legs, and the legs inched apart ...
Farther. . .
Patty's hand cupped the other girl's burning mound, caressing gently, her fingertips toying with the lips of Amy's cunt.
"Oooh ... oooh..." Amy whimpered, and her hips stirred against the glorious touch.
Patty began to kiss her belly. Her grazing lips slid along. She was in Amy's pubic hair now, rooting and whimpering. She worked lower still. . .
As her rapacious lips came in contact with Amy's soaked pussy and worked those wet, velvety lips apart, Amy thought she would pass out from sheer delight. She felt Patty's tongue slithering inside of her.
Oh, Jesus in heaven!
Amy cried like an infant and clenched her fists. Her head was reeling. Bright lights seemed to be flashing before her eyes, as if she were on an LSD trip.
Suddenly Patty stopped.
"No! Oooh, Noooh!" Amy wailed.
"We'll get back to that later," Patty promised, as she stretched out facing Amy again.
She wriggled her upper body, rubbing her tits against Amy's. Their lower bodies writhed, cunt to cunt. Amy's clit throbbed wildly. She was getting ready to pop.
"Let's turn around," Patty murmured, pulling back just in time.
"What do you mean?"
"Do a 69," Patty told her. "Here. I'll show you."
First she urged Amy lower on the bed, then Patty reversed herself. Amy was shocked. But shock had piled upon shock that afternoon, and each had been sweeter than the last. She didn't recoil from this one.
As Patty snuggled close, Amy let her face become enfolded in the aromatic softness of Patty's hot inner thighs. Patty's pussy was very close.
Now Amy felt Patty's mouth, back where it had been before, doing what it had been doing. Tender but demanding hands gripped Amy's buttocks as that loving mouth licked and sucked at her pulsating cunt.
Suddenly Amy's mouth was against Patty's slick, wild-scented pussy. Amy gripped Patty as the other girl was gripping her. Amy tongued Patty as her lips clamped and sucked.
Heads were bracketed by thighs. The girls worked furiously, mounting toward climax.
They came in perfect unison, and it was like nothing Amy had experienced before.
A taste of honey demanded devouring of the whole jar.
Amy couldn't stop now. She had to know every wonderful sensation that female love had to offer.
"Let me suck your tits!" Amy demanded. "You can do mine."
"With pleasure, dear," Patty purred. Time crept along.
When the girls heard Pete's car pull into the driveway, they leaped up, consternation on their faces.
"My God!" Amy cried. "No! Oh, we gotta get straightened up!"
They moved like a couple of whirlwinds, breasts bobbing and buttocks shaking as they snatched up discarded articles of clothing, smoothed the bed, and struggled into their outer garments.
"My blouse!" cried Amy. "It's in the living room."
"So's mine."
They stood frozen, as they heard Pete letting himself into the house.
"We'll have to put on some other blouses," Patty said.
"Hurry!"
Amy leaped to the dresser and pulled a drawer. She tossed a blouse to Patty and took one for herself, then stashed their undies in the drawer and slammed it. They put the blouses on quickly.
"What will he think?" breathed Amy in anguish.
"He won't think anything if you act cool," Patty clipped. "Tell him you were showing me some clothes."
"Hey ... who's here?" Pete called from the living room.
"Hi, Pete!" Patty sang.
"In the bedroom, honey!" called Amy, her voice cracking a little.
Patty elbowed her in the ribs. "Be cool!" she admonished.
Pete appeared in the doorway. He was a slender, handsome man with dark hair, wearing a business suit. Grinning, he dangled Patty's brassiere from an outstretched finger and held the girl's blouses in his other hand.
"What's going on here, anyway?" he inquired good naturedly.
"Nothing, honey," Amy said too quickly. She forced a nervous smile. "Pat and I were trying on clothes."
"You sure mussed up your hair while you were at it," he observed.
Both girls looked in the mirror. Their hairdos were a fright, particularly Patty's, which was a less casual style to begin with.
"Oh, God..." Amy murmured.
Pete studied the women, a quizzical expression on his face.
"Well, I've gotta be going," Patty said, after pushing futilely at her hair. "See you."
"Yeah," Pete said, "So long, Patty."
Amy made a move to escort her out, but Patty told her, "Never mind. I can find my way." She disappeared into the hall.
Amy looked at Pete helplessly.
"What's this all about?" he asked, serious now.
"Nothing. I told you."
"Trying on clothes? What clothes? And Patty left without her bra and in one of your blouses."
"Oh! She did, didn't she?"
Amy moved toward the door, but Pete grasped his wife's arm.
"Never mind," he said. "She can get her blouse and bra later. You two were drinking, weren't you?"
"Ooh, Pete ... now don't get all excited..."
"I'm not excited. I'm just puzzled. I'd like to know what the hell's been coming off-besides bras and blouses." He reached and touched one of Amy's breasts. "You don't have a bra on, either. I wonder ... "
"What?" Amy asked breathlessly.
"I wonder if you're wearing pants."
"Pete!" she squealed as he grasped her.
"No. I want to find out."
He wrestled her down onto the bed and pulled her stretch pants away from her hips. White flesh greeted his eyes.
"I don't always wear panties," she said, gasping.
"I've never known you to go without them."
As he released his hold on her, she scrambled across the bed and to her feet, straightening her clothes. She was flushed in the face as she gazed at him.
"You two broads were fooling around, weren't you?"
"What do you mean ... fooling around?" She was breathing hard.
"You know what I mean." Cold condemnation glinted in his eyes.
"I haven't the slightest idea."
"Yeah?"
In her desperation she found some courage. "Just what are you accusing me of?"
Pete's mouth opened, then closed. He didn't really have any evidence. But the situation looked mighty funny.
"Well ... what are you accusing me of?" Amy demanded again. This time with added indignation.
"Nothing," he said, and turned quickly to stride out of the room.
But his suspicions were not laid to rest. The trouble was, he didn't want to believe what his suspicions seemed to point toward. Amy had this factor working in her favor.