Chapter 3
The pain was like a knife stabbing directly into her heart.
Sandy forced herself to concentrate on the details of the supper dishes and tried her best to block out the sounds of conversation behind her.
It wasn't easy. Not the way Katie was turning on the charm for Janie's benefit.
Sandy gritted her teeth against the fury that was gathering momentum inside her. Every syllable out of Katie's lying mouth was like a personal affront. She could hear the honey dripping-the flirtatious tone in Katie's voice. Without having to turn around Sandy could easily picture the expression on Katie's face-that devastating eye to eye contact, that promising smile.
Suddenly she felt like the maid. An intruder. A third wheel.
"Anybody want some more coffee?" she said suddenly turning around to face them, a smile arranged across her features.
Katie didn't even bother to answer. She just shook her head no.
"Not for me, thanks," Janie said removing her gaze from Katie's face for just the merest second.
And then, again, the two of them became engrossed in each other-as though they were alone in the room-as though Sandy didn't exist.
Sandy walked across the room and stood looking out through the window into the night. The street was ablaze with lights, thick with people milling along the sidewalks seeking relief from the heat.
Sandy found herself wishing she could diffuse through the glass and become absorbed in the herd of humanity downstairs. Lost. Gone. Away even from herself.
And then, suddenly it dawned on her how alienated she had, in fact, become-how her entire life had revolved around Katie to the exclusion of the rest of humanity.
She had no friends, no confidantes, no allies. There was no place for her to go, no one for her to see. The most she could hope for was that eventually Katie would have mercy enough to draw her back into the conversation-to include her-to allow her to exist.
Her insides seemed to be throbbing in protest, tumbling over with rage. Sandy's huge eyes narrowed to angry little slits and her lips set themselves into a tight line of strain. This wasn't living, she thought, but merely existing. Her days were a series of moment to moment episodes dependent upon Katie's mood, Katie's response for success or failure.
And tonight Katie seemed further away than ever.
She wasn't going to give in without a fight, Sandy decided. Wasn't just going to let everything she needed slip through her grasp without resistance. Janie was nothing. A new face. A new body. She, on the other hand, had shared years of Katie's life day in and day out. That alone must be worth some consideration, some sentimental value.
Calling up her courage, Sandy turned slowly and walked toward the table where the two women were chatting easily. "Mind if I join in?" she said, pretending a cheerfulness that was as phony as the color of Janie's hair.
As soon as she sat down, the conversation stopped dead. Sandy felt caught, exposed in the torturous silence that lengthened around her.
Janie was the first to give way underneath the strain. "Katie was just telling me how amazing it is that we never ran into each other before, since we go to the same bars."
"Oh, is that so?" Sandy answered, an edge of ice creeping into her tone. "I guess Katie does her fair share of bar-hopping at that, don't you?" She turned to face the woman in question.
Katie obviously was enjoying every moment of the attention - the awareness that both women wanted her badly. "Yes, I get around," she said with a crooked smile. "Keeps me young and fit."
Janie forced a laugh.
The rotten bitch, Sandy thought.
Sandy sat without making a sound.
"Say, there's an idea," Janie brightened visibly, leaping at the chance to ease the tension. "Why don't we all go and do the bars tonight?" she suggested.
"The three of us?" Katie replied grinning.
"Why not?" Janie continued. "We'd probably have a ball. What do you say Sandy?"
Sandy hesitated, afraid to even glance in Katie's direction. Katie would be furious with her, she knew, if she said yes. That would cramp Katie's style. Having Sandy around would cage her in, to quote Katie. There was no point in drawing out the agony.
"No, I don't think so," Katie answered, confirming Sandy's suspicions. "That doesn't sound like my idea of a blast tonight. I think I'd just rather hang around here at home-that is, if nobody else minds."
Sandy knew that she had to make a decision right now-right this moment-or her skull was going to blow off the top of her head from the pressure inside. She couldn't stand to sit around and watch this any longer-to witness Katie's obvious interest in Janie-to listen to Katie handing the girl that all too familiar line.
"If you don't mind I think I'm going to go out and grab myself some fresh air," Sandy said, rising on shaky legs.
She hesitated for just a moment longer-hoping vaguely that Katie would stop her-that Katie would ask her to stay there with her.
Nobody objected. Nobody said a word.
Now Sandy knew she had no choice. She must do what she said she was going to do. She must take herself out of there and leave the two of them alone together to fuck even if it killed her.
She dressed in the closet-sized bathroom, hating Katie, hating Janie. hating the world for ganging up against her.
She had no idea where she was going to go, what she was going to do. All she knew was that she had to get away-had to fly far from this place before the sight of Katie's unfaithfulness destroyed her.
"When do you figure you'll be back?" Katie asked without bothering to hide her pleasure at the fact that Sandy was going out.
"Late." Sandy heard the word come out sharp, angry-as though it was spoken by another person. She'd never talked to Katie like that. Never fought back or stood up for her own rights.
"In that case, you'd better take your key," Katie told her, apparently oblivious or indifferent to Sandy's frame of mind.
Sandy grabbed her key, stuck it into the pocket of her slacks and marched out the door without saying goodbye to either of them.
Thoughts of the two women sucking on each other's cunt flashed through her mind as she ran down the stairs.
She walked west on Houston Street ignoring the curious stares of the passers-by. Shoulders hunched, head down, Sandy moved briskly despite the warmth of the evening.
Her mind was in turmoil and an icy stiffness stretched the length of her spine. She wanted to strike out, to fight back but the energy was nowhere to be seen.
As the boundaries of Greenwich Village came into view, Sandy felt her pace increasing. Maybe here, amid winding streets and the shadowy lives she'd be able to bury herself. To find temporary oblivion. To escape from what was real. In any event, she damned well intended to try.
The tourists were out in full force along with the freaks and the drag queens and the over-aged delinquents from surrounding colleges. Sandy dug her way eagerly into the crowds of people blocking the sidewalks, happy to be in among the other misfits, to be just one more anonymous ripple in this endless stream of motion.
Nobody was aware of her suffering here, she felt sure. They were all too hung up in their own problems, their own compulsions. Now, for a while at least, she could feel free to be herself.
She meandered aimlessly, glutting herself on the sudden release from immediate tension-the new-found freedom. What would she do, she wondered. How could she celebrate the first night of rebellion in her whole life?
Slowly the idea made itself known to her and Sandy toyed with it, trying it on, testing it to see how if felt. Could she fuck another woman besides Katie? It felt good, she decided. The notion of going to a bar-of beating Katie at her own game, was inexplicably appealing.
What a fool she'd been, Sandy went on, silently building up momentum. What an absolute asshole to allow herself to be stepped on-to be used-to be treated like an old shoe. She was young too and attractive enough, dammit, to stir up a little trouble on her own.
Tonight was going to be her night to get sucked.
She began to walk a little faster, remembering a bar that Katie had mentioned, eager to strike out on her own. As she passed a plate-glass store window Sandy paused glancing at her own reflection.
She had that look tonight, she realized, and she liked it. Just the right combination of urchin and sprite to add a touch of intrigue to her appearance. Her short, dark hair fell in soft wisps around her delicate face. The crisp white shirt outlined her breasts without being vulgar about it. And the tight-fitting blue jeans showed off the flatness of her belly, the compactness of her hips, the appealing curve of her thighs and ass and especially the luscious mound of her cunt.
Her step took on a slight bounce as she proceeded, confident now, eager for the adventure ahead. Was this her way of breaking free of Katie at last, she wondered. Was tonight, in fact, the first step toward permanent independence?
She dared not think in such extremes. Dared not try to plan ahead. For tonight, Sandy decided, she would just take things as they came and drift along with whatever current took hold of her.
Mona's Living Room was jumping when she arrived. Even before she peered through the window Sandy knew she'd found the right bar.
It had that special look about it that set it apart from the straight places. The heavily curtained windows. The understated name over the entrance. The gorilla at the door that looked like every other bouncer in every other gay bar in every other city in the world.
Sandy met the bouncer's inquisitive gaze with a look of defiance, daring him or anyone to get in her way, to try and stop her tonight. Instead of giving her the hard time she was almost hoping for as an excuse to let off some of the steam inside her, the man simply nodded and pushed open the front door.
The music and the smoke hit her, surrounding her like a thick blanket, enticing her hypnotically deeper into the dimness. Sandy moved slowly toward the crowded bar, aware suddenly of little jangly nerves here and there across her body.
No, she told herself, she would not chicken out. She would not allow herself to turn and run from the unknown. It was high time she stood on her own two feet.
High time she asserted herself.
High time she got a little fun out of living for a change.
To hell with Katie tonight. To hell with Janie. To hell with everything for that matter.
She wanted to fuck and that was what mattered!
She found a space at the bar and wormed her way in among a group of dykes who looked like they'd just bought out an Army-Navy surplus store. Ignoring the obvious interest of one of them, Sandy slid onto a tattered stool and quickly ordered the drink she needed to calm herself down.
The bar-scotch tasted like lighter fluid but Sandy made no complaints and drank it as quickly as she could-eager for the alcohol to take effect. She didn't quite know herself tonight, she realized, but that didn't really matter.
In fact, she decided, this just added to her interest. Everything she did, everything that might happen would be new, different. And in her particular case, anything that was different had to be good.
The blasting of the jukebox started to echo down through her body as the liquor got to work on her brain. Smiling with satisfaction, Sandy snapped the fingers of one hand in time to the music and ordered another drink for herself-just to be sure, just to reinforce her determination.
How different this was from that first time when Katie had taken her to a bar, she mused while she waited for the second scotch to arrive. What long distances she seemed to have covered in the relatively short span of three years. Gone was that nineteen-year-old naivete-that breathless excitement. And in its place, there was another kind of excitement-the excitement of the hunt-the excitement of conquest-the excitement of sucking a new pussy.
"A pretty thing like you shouldn't be drinking all alone."
Sandy heard the voice coming over her left shoulder. Knew it was directed at her. She smiled to herself without turning, preparing to play the role.
Oh it was going to be easy, she realized, so delightfully easy. No more quaking with uncertainty. No more having to be the follower. How glad she was to be no longer innocent!
Slowly, casually, Sandy turned to inspect the woman beside her, the one who'd spoken.
Tall. Wavy salt-and-pepper hair. Steel-blue eyes and white, white skin. Butch definitely-but no imitation truck driver. A white skirt and nautical blue blazer with an anchor over the breast pocket. About thirty-five.
Sandy liked what she saw and her smile confirmed it.
"What do you say we find a nice private table in some dark corner?" The woman returned Sandy's smile revealing white, even teeth.
"Fast worker aren't you?" Sandy stalled on purpose, not wanting to put herself out of the running so fast-not wanting to signal all possible comers that she was taken for the evening.
"I like to move fast when I see something I like."
The words were meant as a show of bravado but Sandy saw right through the veneer. The woman wasn't as sure of herself as she tried to pretend. "We'll stay here," Sandy announced, her smile contrasting sharply with her take-it-or-leave-it tone.
The woman shrugged giving in, surrendering control easily. "Okay, suit yourself. May I buy you a drink?"
"Why not?" Sandy's grin widened, nourished by the quick victory. And as if to reaffirm her triumph she ordered the most expensive scotch there was.
"My name is Tamara," the woman said when they were halfway through their drinks. "What's yours?"
Sandy told her name momentarily unnerved by the other's directness.
"Do you want to leave now or shall we play the whole bar game first?"
Sandy smiled instantly liking her companion. "What makes you think I'm going to leave with you?" she challenged, enjoying the parry and thrust of the conversation.
Tamara wasn't having any of it. Her features rearranged themselves into an expression of utter disdain. "Come on now-don't make us go through this whole silly scene. If you weren't interested you wouldn't have hung on this long. Now what's it going to be?" Her features softened into hopefulness. "Your place or mine?"
Sandy took her time sipping her drink, on purpose. Tamara was right of course-had her pegged, but still Sandy didn't want to give in so fast.
"I never bring strangers back to my place. Maybe we'll go to yours-but only maybe."
Tamara put her glass down decisively on the bar. "Look sweetheart, if you're going to be a bitch about this, let's just forget the whole thing. Okay?"
Immediately, Sandy reached out and stopped the other woman with a gentle pressure of her fingers. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I'm not like that-really I'm not."
"Rough night, eh?" Tamara smiled with understanding.
"That's an understatement," Sandy felt her exhilaration flattening like a punctured tire. She didn't know what she was doing, what she was trying to prove by behaving like another Katie.
"Let's go to your place," she whispered, suddenly eager to get out of there, eager to be nice to someone-and to have someone respond in kind. "Let's go to your place right now."
She wanted to fuck now!
Tamara's mouth curved up into a satisfied smile as she realized, obviously, that the reins were back in her hands. "You're absolutely sure now?" she cracked. "Not going to change your mind on the way?"
"Who's being bitchy now?" Sandy felt immense relief as she realized that she'd been forgiven-that she'd come close to spoiling things but had stopped just in time.
Tamara slapped a bill down on the counter top and nodded toward the door.
The fresh air seemed to double the strength of the scotch inside her. Sandy leaned heavily against the fender of the low-slung, silver sports-car and watched Tamara unlock the door.
The woman had class, Sandy decided. Probably a lifetime of money and ease. She wasn't a drainer of ego, wasn't a tormentor. Tonight might turn out to be even more fun than Sandy had bargained for.
They roared uptown, whizzing along Third Avenue with the radio going full blast. Sandy slipped her sandals off and stretched her bare feet into the well below the dashboard. It was good to be with someone who was on the make for her, she decided. Good to be drunk. Good to be irresponsible. Good to be away from the hell she called home.
When Tamara pulled the car into the garage of a fancy white building in the East Sixties Sandy had to work to keep her awe from showing. It would be gauche to express the fact that she was very impressed, even overwhelmed-a definite mistake to let Tamara know that she was the best thing to come along in years.
And yet, within herself, Sandy enjoyed the thrill, the excitement of having possibly met someone at last who was truly worth-while.
The apartment, way upstairs, was exactly suitable for Sandy's fantasy. It was huge with high ceilings and it seemed to stretch on forever, affording a breath-taking view of the East River outside floor to ceiling glass walls. Deep, plush leather furniture beckoned everywhere. Rosewood table tops reflected the soft lighting.
Sandy walked bare-footed, burying her toes into the thick, deep, white carpeting, absorbing the luxury of her surroundings. For a moment she almost forgot about Tamara as the sight before her commanded her full attention. Finally, she flopped down on a tufted black couch, too excited to try and pretend nonchalance.
"This is fabulous!" she called, fully expecting her voice to echo around the mammoth room. "You must be an heiress or something."
Tamara chuckled softly and slipped off her jacket revealing firm, high breasts clearly outlined beneath a thin, white sleeveless blouse. "Hardly an heiress," she said, moving quickly to seat herself on the sofa near Sandy. "I'm just a plain old working woman."
"I'll bet." Sandy tossed an incredulous expression in Tamara's direction. "Go ahead-tell me you're a checker in a supermarket."
"Well, not exactly." Tamara smiled modestly. "But if you want to know what I do, I'll tell you-I'll even show you."
Sandy waited, expecting the revelation momentarily. When it didn't come she let her eagerness show. "Well-is it? Do you really smuggle diamonds?"
Tamara's expression turned serious and she studied Sandy's face as though sizing the girl up for some secret intention. "I make films," she said softly, simply.
"Really?" Sandy felt herself rippling with excitement, with interest. "You mean to tell me you're a movie producer? Honestly?"
Tamara laughed again, obviously enjoying Sandy's response. "Not exactly the kind of movies you have in mind, I'm sure," she answered. "But if you'll just sit there I'll be glad to demonstrate."
Sandy watched fascinated as Tamara moved around behind a polished wood bar and began to operate a panel of buttons. With a soft, whirring sound a projection screen lowered itself from the ceiling directly in Sandy's line of vision. Another button extinguished all the lights in the room but one small blue bulb on the wall opposite the screen.
"Brace yourself," Tamara called in a smiling voice. "You're in for a shock." Then she pushed a third button.
Sandy gasped aloud as the screen came to life suddenly with the image of a naked girl lying on a bed in full, living color. The girl was young, not possibly more than seventeen, with long silky blonde hair and a peaches and cream complexion.
She smiled directly at the camera as though welcoming Sandy into the room, then reached for the mounds of her perfect breasts and started to toy with the pink, tiny nipples.
"Not bad for openers, eh?" Tamara said as she lowered herself onto the sofa next to Sandy, and reached toward the coffee table for a pack of cigarettes.
Sandy was too engrossed to answer and certainly not about to take her eyes off the screen. As she watched, gaping, the girl on the bed slid one scarlet-tipped finger down inside the center of her cunt and below to the soft inner thigh.
Now the girl's features were beginning to show tell-tale signs of arousal-eyes closing half way, pink lips parting. With her mouth set into a half smile, she raised her knees slowly and then spread them outward revealing her cunt fully to the eye of the camera.
The lens zoomed in then to get a revealing close-up of the girl's slick, wet pussy undulating slowly, rhythmically as her fingers began to stroke her own cunt. Probing deeply. Giving pleasure. Frigging herself faster.
Sandy felt her own body starting to respond to the spectacle before her. Embarrassed, edgy, she squeezed her knees and thighs tightly together trying to add to her own stimulation without being obvious.
Tamara slid her arm along the top of the sofa behind Sandy and inched a little closer. "Don't be ashamed, honey," she whispered hoarsely. "Everybody gets worked up watching my movies. That's what we make them for."
The girl on the screen was thrashing about now, fingering herself roughly, working her cunt to frenzy pitch. Sandy could actually feel the excitement leaping through her own body as the girl arched herself high off the mattress wiggling her hips and buttocks feverishly.
Her fingers were rapidly stroking in and out of her own cunt and came out wet and drippy with her own juices.
Tamara's fingers moved down over Sandy's shoulder and cupped her breast through the material of her shirt.
Sandy shuddered, too aroused to say anything, to do anything but move closer into the woman's embrace.
As the action on the screen continued hot and heavy, Tamara imprisoned the tip of Sandy's tit between her fingers and began to squeeze the sensitive nipple. At the same time, Tamara's other hand moved to the side of Sandy's pants, opened the button there and loosened the garment.
Without taking her eyes from the screen, Sandy lifted her hips from the sofa and allowed her pants to be forced down over her hips along with her cotton panties. Beyond inhibition now, beyond reason, she lowered her bare ass onto the cool sticky leather and kicked her foot freeing herself of all clothing from the waist down.
Tamara's hands leaped to the buttons of Sandy's blouse and worked deftly to open the garment and pull it away. In another moment the hooks on Sandy's brassiere were loose-and then Sandy was completely naked.
Breathing heavily, trembling with desire, Sandy moved her hand down and to the right and slipped her fingers underneath the folds of Tamara's skirt. The woman wore no panties and Sandy's touch made instant contact with hot, naked cunt. The other woman gave a gasp as Sandy's fingers stroked her cunt.
Wild now with the need to increase the excitement pounding through her flesh, Sandy took complete liberty with Tamara's body. She felt the woman slide down to a half-sitting, half-reclining position on the sofa-making her cunt more available-inviting Sandy to explore further.
Sandy worked to heighten Tamara's arousal with one hand while the fingers of her other hand hurried to satisfy her own urgent craving. She was only absently aware that Tamara was starting to take off her own clothing as the story being unfolded on the screen took on an added dimension.
The camera suddenly switched to a shot of the bedroom doorway where another woman had suddenly appeared. The newcomer was naked except for the strange kind of underwear she wore.
Her tits were covered by a bra that had two holes cut into its tips through which hard, swollen nipples protruded. The picture went only as high as the woman's shoulders but that was enough to create a startling impact.
The body was perfect-full, ripe, voluptuous-obviously belonging to a woman who was in at least her late twenties. As the camera panned slowly downward, Sandy's jaw dropped open at the close-up of black leather panties with a cut-out opening that showed her cunt.
Slowly the body of the newcomer began to move toward the camera, undulating as the woman walked.
The edge of the bed came into view then and the blonde a split second thereafter.
The girl was on her knees now, hovering at the edge of the mattress, gazing wistfully upward, obviously at the newcomer. Her tongue slid over her lips making them glisten moistly.
The round hips and thighs encased in tight black leather were thrust suddenly forward, stopping barely inches in front of the girl.
As the girl knelt toward the tempting flesh; the camera moved backward showing the newcomer's face for the first time.
It was Tamara.
"Didn't want to spoil the surprise by tipping you off in advance," Tamara rasped as she got to her feet and opened the side of her skirt. A moment later, the garment dropped soundlessly to the rug and the woman stood naked in front of the sofa.
Sandy's eyes darted from the screen to Tamara-back and forth as she felt herself torn between both temptations.
"Don't miss the rest of this film, honey," Tamara suggested, understanding Sandy's conflict. "You'll have plenty of time to look at me. Just watch the action over there and let's see what we can do to match it up for real."
Sandy understood immediately what Tamara had in mind as the woman advanced toward her and stood spread-legged barely inches away.
With trembling fingers, Sandy reached out and cupped the woman's hips enjoying the sensation of the rip, silken flesh.
Sandy felt her cunt become wet and juicy and her mouth watered from the anticipation of sucking on that delicious-looking cunt.
Sandy's eyes were glued to the screen now also as she began to rock her hips gently. "Come on, sweetheart, do what that girl's doing. I'll bet you can do it even better."
Sandy felt the gentle but insistent pressure of Sandy's fingers at the nape of her neck-coaxing her head forward-drawing her closer to the willing, wet, exposed cunt.
Groaning with desire, she slid from the sofa and lowered herself to her knees on the rug.
"That a girl," Tamara breathed. "Now you're getting the message. Suck me nice, Sandy. Real nice."
The combination of liquor and excitement set Sandy's brain whirling wildly out of control. With one rush of hot, tingling sensation she felt desire take full possession of her and impel her toward Tamara's delectable pussy;
Tamara had angled herself so that Sandy could still see the screen. Quaking all over, Sandy did her part to reproduce the action in the movie-aware that Tamara's response was intense and immediate. .
Tamara bent her knees slightly and twisted her fingers into Sandy's hair, pulling the girl tighter against her cunt, affording her easy access.
"That's good, baby," she groaned hoarsely, tightening the muscles in her thighs and ass with slow rhythmic regularity. "Don't stop doing that, suck me, don't ever stop."
When Sandy saw the girl on the screen reach up to find the tips of Tamara's breasts she did the same-glad that, in real life, Tamara wore no bra and hid nothing from the touch. Eagerly she squeezed the mounds of the woman's tits in her hands-exploring the bumpy flesh around the nipples with her fingertips-making Tamara cry out with pleasure.
Suddenly, the girl on the screen was guided back into a prone position across the bed. Sandy watched the movie in fascinated silence aware of the sudden pressure of Tamara's hands pushing her backward-lowering her toward the rug.
In the film Tamara was reaching into a drawer-pulling out an odd-looking leather apparatus-strapping it around her middle so that the final effects made her look like half man, half woman. It was a thick dildo.
Sandy's jaw fell open and her eyes widened with shocked surprise as she watched the larger than life version of Tamara's roll the young girl onto her belly-force the girl's legs wide-plunge viciously-aiming the rubber dildo savagely on target. She glanced around just in time to see the real Tamara moving in her direction all prepared to duplicate the brutality that was occurring in the movie.
"Okay, doll-roll over." Tamara's eyes were wild, wide, flashing excitement. "I'm going to give you something you'll never forget."
Sandy heard her own voice echo shrilly around the huge room as she jumped to her feet, shrieking her protest. "No-no," she told Tamara over and over again. "No more. I've had enough.
"Come on, baby. You'll like it-I guarantee you'll swing." Tamara pointed toward the screen. "Just take a look at that kid. Does she look like she's suffering?"
Sandy didn't look. She didn't want to. She couldn't. In one horrible, painful flash of reality she realized what had happened to her-how far she'd almost been carried by the strength of a foolish need for revenge.
As Tamara came closer to Sandy with the dildo she realized that it had two ends. One was already well secured in her wet, juicy cunt and the other was meant for Sandy.
"Come on, baby. You'll love it. All my girls do."
"Not me," said Sandy defiantly.
"Don't make me get rough with you. I can hurt you."
Tamara grabbed Sandy by the shoulders and forced her to her back. Sandy tried to struggle but the effort was in vain. Tamara was much stronger than Sandy could ever have thought she was.
Tamara held her helpless while she spread her legs and exposed the thick triangle of her cunt and slipped two fingers inside the slash.
Sandy felt something inside her give way and knew she could no longer resist the kinky desire that rushed through her and made her want the contact of that rubber thing all the way inside her.
Her legs spread farther now and Sandy waited for the plunge of the artificial tool.
Tamara lowered herself until the thing was just inches from Sandy's cunt.
Sandy arched her back and threw out her cunt to capture the rubber dildo and gave out a loud moan of pleasure as the thing slid all the way inside her and Tamara began the long and slow rhythm that Sandy loved more than anything.
The hard rubber tool was better than anything she had ever had and she reveled in the delicious pleasure it was giving her.
And she knew that Tamara was enjoying the other end of the dildo that was well inside her cunt as well.
The two of them were connected by that rubber dildo and Sandy found herself enjoying the artificial thing more than she had ever enjoyed anything. It was something she could not get enough of now and she gave her cunt completely to the pleasures she found in the thing.
"Harder, Tamara. I want it harder."
Tamara gave her a vicious grin and shoved the thing in more as her teeth clenched tightly together and gritted against each other.
"That feels so good. Give me more. I want it, I want it," Sandy cried out loud.
Her cunt was steaming and hot from the friction that was building up inside her. Her pussy was thick and heavy with the smell that came from there and she could smell her own cunt in heat as well as that of Tamara.
There was something sick and degenerate about using the thing and Sandy found herself getting a crazy kinky kick out of having that thing inside the two of them.
Tamara's cunt juices were flowing as freely as Sandy's and they mingled with each other on the shaft of the dildo to form one slimy pool of thick, female love sauce.
Suddenly Sandy felt the passion within her rise to a fever pitch and then cascade to the climax she had been waiting for all night.
It was something that ripped her apart and sent her cunt lips smacking with arousal and satisfaction.-
The two of them were coming at the same time and exploded into each other violently and with unbridled passion and pure animal lust.
When it was over and the two of them lay panting and gasping for air, the despair and the sick perversity of what they had done settled over Sandy.
She could not face the fact that she had actually done something like that and loved the hell out of it.
She could not bear to face Tamara and knew that she immediately regretted ever having done it.
Her cheeks burned with shame.
Her stomach knotted with revulsion.
Her cunt twitched with sin.
She just had to get out of there in a hurry and hope that Tamara would never know who she really was and where she lived.