Games Neighbors Play
                            Chapter 1

     Susie felt it happen as she slipped off her dress, sheer
magic warmly enveloping her flesh, softening it to the bone.  Her
movements slowed.  She dropped the dress on the bathroom laundry
hamper and felt her face, her throat, her bra stretched by
suddenly swollen breasts.  Her nipples were hard.  She slid a hand
down her belly, over her panties to her crotch.  It was moist.

     She gazed about her blue-and-white bathroom.  Nothing
appeared altered.  The tiles gleamed.  She had scrubbed them this
morning.  The shower door stood open.

     She had been about to shower.  In the bedroom she had laid
out fresh undies and a crisp summer dress.  The kitchen smelled of
roasting beef, to be done in an hour when husband Brian arrived
home.  Susie, young Mrs. Susie Fenner, was an efficient,
methodical homemaker.

     But magic sent fingertips languorously roving her nyloned
breasts, buttery-soft caresses teasing the growing caps.  She felt
slinkily sensual, like a cat in heat, switching her tail and
sniffing for toms.  Magic?  She did not believe in magic.  It was
sex.  Her vagina was pulling, wetting.  But why?

     She turned to the mirror, saw cornflower-blue eyes wide,
round, a blonde girl amazed at the transformation of herself.  The
eyes of innocence, about twelve years old, Brian had said with a
sneer, her emotional growth stopped before puberty.  And each time
he drove his erection into her dry vagina, each time she humped
desperately at him, trying to cum, and failing, she wondered.
Maybe Brian was right.

     But Susie was twenty, a grown woman with large, protruding
breasts, and in her panties a broad fan of hair, and plump lips
swelling the crotch.

     She plucked at nipples like thumb-tips poking out the nylon.
Lust had darkened her eyes.  Heated breathing had dried her lips.
A sliver of pink tongue-tip lashed out, wetting them.  Brian
Fenner's frigid wife saw her nostrils flare, then her hips
writhing.

     This was not the Susie she knew.

     What was happening to her?

     She curled an arm behind her back, pinched the bra hooks
free.  The nylon jerked, pulled by the weight of her breasts.

     Her chest was golden, from gardening in the hot summer sun.
Abruptly the color changed to milky white, flesh protected by her
halter, broad mounds swelling outward, the inner curves almost
meeting.

     In the john at an office party she had overheard a woman say,
"That wife of Brian Fenner is all tits and ass!  Such a sexy girl,
why on earth does he screw his secretary?"

     Susie knew why.  Brian screwed his secretary because his wife
was frigid, had a dry, knotted vagina, despite the feeling right
now of moistness in her panties.

     She plucked the bra cups off her breast crowns, pink swells
of teacup size, tipped with thick nipples.  She brushed her
fingertips about the areolae and watched them bulge, extending the
nipples until together they formed cones.  Hot, now.  Tingling.
She let the bra fall and fisted her tit ends, squeezed them,
closing her eyes and thinking how Ronnie used to suck them, Ronnie
her high-school guy, the awful shit, stood her up on dates,
eventually joined the Army and disappeared, but sweet, dear Ronnie
had kissed and licked every part of her body, loved her to the
toes.

     In the mirror her pink lips were open, teeth glinting as she
drew deep, shuddering breaths.  Avoiding the sight she looked down
at her swollen breasts as she pulled the nipples out to fingering
pegs.  Then she dropped her hands to her panties, rolled them
slowly downward over her mound hair, which expanded to a brownish
fluff on release.  She had a quite hairy snatch, a jungle of
thick, silky curls hiding her plump mound and lips, even
concealing her clit, which was grossly oversized.  It disgusted
Brian, who said it was like "a little boy's prick!"

     "Well, it's what I've got!" Susie had sobbed.

     Anyhow, it was not like a prick.  It was smaller, and
completely slick, and Ronnie used to suck it avidly.  It was not a
deformity, a doctor had assured her long ago, a mere anomaly,
unusual but not rare.  Susie was determined to ignore it.  Yet had
it something to do with her vaginal dryness, her inability to cum
on Brian's penis?

     She was rubbing her pussy before her panties were down,
squeezing the hairy lips and working their slippery insides on her
hot, swelling clit.  Wow!  Hot!  And wet in there, like when
Ronnie used to slip his prick in and sometimes she'd cum on
feeling the head throb in her vaginal mouth.

     She choked out a cry.  So hot!  She shoved the panties down,
kicked out of them and hurried to the shower, turned it on and
stepped in squeezing her pussy lips, pulling and pushing as the
tepid spray dashed at her breasts.  The water did not cool them.
Instead the needling jets teased the turgid flesh to further
swelling.  Susie had begun hip-grinding, forcing her pussy at the
finger pressure, wrenching and jerking, which made her firm
breasts wobble and slip, roll here and there.

     And why?  Why?  Because she could not cum in bed with Brian,
and all her sexuality had bottled up?  Because he was a selfish
brute, just jamming it into her without a kiss or a caress?  And
maybe because of the new people next door, who laughed all the
time, joyfully full of piss and vinegar?  And she envied them?
Because she was so alone?

     All of those things?

     She bowed her legs, slid a finger up her drooling, open hole,
and went into a paroxysm of hip jerks, fuck-shoved, impaling her
on the digit.

     It was the people next door, she thought.  They had to be
part of it.  It was since they moved in that those waves of heat
had swarmed over her a dozen times a day.

     She backed to the tiled wall, bracing herself as she
surrendered to a flurry of hip jerks, hissing loudly through
clenched teeth, writhing, twisting, breasts spilling to the right,
then the left.  She flagged her head, let out a shriek.

     "My cum!"

     A boiling gush, a flare of scalding heat ripped through her
belly as a hip jerk shot her over the peak.

     She sagged against the tiles, sobbing, the jerks slower,
voluptuous now, and she groaned as her vagina slithered and
pulled, gaped, then snuggled in on itself, all loose and sexy but
empty, nothing in it but a girl's finger.

     Susie felt wobbly-legged when she toweled dry, rubbing her
flesh as though to punish it, sobbing, smearing at tears, avoiding
sight of her reflection in the mirror.  Shame!  Self-abuse, that's
what they called masturbation.  If Brian knew, he would be
sickened.  Perverted woman!  He'd say maybe her long clit was no
deformity but the result of continual masturbation.  Or from
Lesbian practices.  Yes, he would say that.  If Susie showed any
warmth at all toward another woman he made horrid remarks, said
maybe she was such a lousy lay because she really dug other
snatches, wanted to eat hair pie!

     Sniffling, she wound the towel about her body, knotted it
under one arm and went to the bedroom, a bright place where
sunshine glowed in the pale-yellow marquisette curtains, a color
like the clothes she had laid out on the bed, a yellow dress and
matching bra and panties.  She would dress, look fresh and pretty
for husband Brian, meet him at the door with a wifely kiss and a
chilled dry-martini cocktail.  But she would pass the evening in
dread of the moment when he jammed his hard prick into her dry
vagina, which he said felt like a rusty keyhole.

     Yet right now she felt love juices trickling down her leg.

     She could hear voices now, and a spate of laughter coming
through the curtains.  The people next door.  She moved to the
window, crouched against the wall and peered out through the
curtains.

     The neighborhood was composed mostly of ranch houses and
split levels only a few years old but Susie was gazing at a relic
of times gone by, a Gothic monstrosity of three stories, with
cupolas and slate Mansard roofs, a house much too large for one
family.  Two weeks ago, three young couples had moved into that
weather-worn antique.

     Susie had not yet met any of them.  Nor had Brian, but he
judged them commune hippies, probably fags and Lesbians; in his
view, disgusting.

     Hedges of overgrown privet surrounded the house except for a
gap on this side, where they had rigged chicken wire on posts and
had planted Morning Glories that were already vining up the wire.
Susie understood their desire for privacy, having glimpsed much
naked running around.

     The voices she had heard came from three of them beyond the
chicken wire.  They were scraping the peeling paint off the house.
Two girls and a fellow, wearing straw hats, shirts and shorts.

     As Susie watched, the male member of the trio reached the
handle of his paint scraper up between one girl's blue-denimed
buttocks, and gave her a goose.

     She screeched, whirled on him and made a grab at his crotch.

     The three of them were laughing.  Watching, Susie giggled.

     He backed off.  The other girl got into it, and they crowded
him against the hedge, both girls snatching at the front of his
shorts.  He dropped his scraper and tried to fend them off with
the palms of his hands, but feebly, helpless with laughter.
Finally one of the girls got a handful of crotch bulge.

     There were laughs, shouts, and the two girls went back to
their paint scraping.

     Like in high school, Susie thought, she and Ronnie, always
grabbing crotches.  But Ronnie had been her steady.  Here two
girls had gone at one man, and that sort of took her breath away.

     What followed left her gasping.

     Standing there talking to the girls  Susie could hear only
echoes of their voices  the fellow unzipped his shorts, dug out
his penis, and began to pee.

     Both girls watched as a glistening stream of urine arced
through the sunshine and spattered on the lawn.

     Wow! Susie thought.  One of the girls could be his wife or
girl friend, but the other?  What kind of a bunch were they?  Did
they live in heaps?  Group-grope stuff?

     She could see his prick clearly, a long one, and she reacted
by slipping a hand in under the fold of her towel to the furriness
of her pussy.  She gave it a squeeze, found the inner surfaces of
the lips were squishy.  She thought, I do love guys!  Meeting the
right guy I feel flash blushes, find my ass wagging, and my
panties get squirmy-moist in no time at all.  Like it's only my
husband who turns me off!  Yet I married him because after just a
glance at the big, handsome bastard my pussy juiced!

     Now she heard one of the girl's voices distinctly, saying,
"Howard, we know how big your cock is.  Why do you have to show it
off?"

     They were laughing, and so was Susie, though she felt a tear
in her eye, loneliness.  How she wished she were one of those
girls, teasing the fellow about displaying his prick!

     While massaging her pussy, she tore the towel open and began
pulling her nipples.  And the longer she watched the three next
door, the more her tugs and squeezes speeded.  Were the people
next door the cause of her spells of heat, the sensual upwellings
that demanded masturbation?

     Well, they made her think of Ronnie, and the carefree days
with him, when their sexuality had been joyous, laughter
punctuating the gasps and grunts of orgasm.

     Susie bowed her legs, squeezing her pussy back and forth as
she panted uphill toward her cum.

     Brian arrived home late, a huge man filling the kitchen
doorway.  He had made it through college as a line-bucking
halfback, and as an executive at the Helting Corporation he bulled
his way up the ladder.  He was dark and ruggedly handsome but his
face was red.  He had been drinking, Susie knew.

     She gave him his martini cocktail and the wifely kiss on his
cheek.  He was sweaty.  In her crisp yellow summer dress she did
not want to press close up to him.

     He gulped at the drink, then snarled, "That guy Clayton!  The
cocksucker tried to take over the Burkholtz account.  I told the
big boss that Clayton would bungle the fucker, give it to Brian
boy, I'll make Burkholtz buy like our products are cheap at half
the price."

     "That's nice," Susie said, understanding none of it.  Brian
ranted a lot about office doings, but never explained.  She only
knew that Clayton was Brian's friend, that with his wife they
often went to dinner as a foursome, but on the job the two men
fought like jungle animals.

     "Clayton blew his top when the big boss gave me Burkholtz.
Called me a back-stabbing shit, and I laughed in his face.  He
even took off on you, saying, 'Your wife Susie, the way she wags
her big ass  '"

     "I haven't got a big ass," Susie said mildly, taking the
roast from the oven.

     Ignoring her, Brian went on, " 'Wags it like she's hot pussy
you can't satisfy, probably fucks the plumber and the gas-meter
reader.'  I mean, you can see how pissed off Clayton was, saying
all that, and I told him she's frigid, got a cunt like a faucet
rusted shut."

     Biting her lip, Susie left the roast and poured herself a
drink.  She said, "You didn't really tell Clayton that."

     "I'd had some drinks."

     "You and he were drinking together, after work?"

     "Who else?  I had to smear it in his face, didn't I?"

     "You could leave me out of it."

     "Oh, fuck!"  He refilled his glass.  "In public you do that
wiggly sexy shit, dance with Clayton, rubbing your belly all over
him, can't blame him for thinking like that.  But at home, shit.
Then you're little miss dry-cunt, big round eyes surprised like
she never saw a cock before."

     He glowered at her, then lunged off toward the bathroom,
unbuttoning his shirt.

     Susie blinked at tears.  Brian was really wound up tonight.
Had something happened besides the fight over the Burkholtz
account?  Like, if Clayton had made it with Brian's
secretary  they seemed to battle that way, too.

     She and her husband lived separate lives, that's all.  After
two years of marriage they were strangers.

     She heard the shower go on.  If she were part of that office
life, she thought, they'd have things in common.  But Brian would
not let her hold a job.

     He was not always this bad.  Though, lately it had been worse
between them, as though the new people next door were also
affecting him.

     Thinking of them, she found her fingers walking her skirt up
and dipping into her panties.  She opened her slit and nudged her
clit.  At least, Brian had not mentioned that tonight, how it grew
out like a little boy's prick.

     The pig!

     If only he'll get stumbling drunk, she thought, and pass out,
unconscious so he doesn't even know I'm in bed with him.




                            Chapter 2

     The evening went even better than Susie had hoped, Brian
moodily silent, drinking beer as he watched the TV ball game, then
going off to bed and a dead sleep.  During the night he erected
once, jabbed at her behind but apparently fell asleep again.

     In the morning she got him off to work and sat drinking her
coffee, smoking a cigarette, and wondering.  She felt trapped.  If
she had a job, made some money to be proud of  but she was a house
slave, hating the master of her life.

     Do something!  Something new!

     With sudden decision she butted out the cigarette and rose,
strode out the kitchen door.

     She paused a moment in her yard, gazing at the overgrown
hedges about the monstrosity old house next door, at the chicken-
wire fence which morning glories grew, at the lattice gate beside
the fence.  She moved slowly toward the gate, unsure now, afraid
she would be disappointed in the new neighbors.  But what else had
she?  Every other woman on the block had a job.

     She opened the gate and stepped inside.  The new people had
certainly been busy.

     The overgrown yard was neatly mowed, and flower strips
planted against the house.  Out back a vegetable garden showed new
green shoots.  All very tidy.

     She climbed steps to the roofed back porch and at the screen
kitchen door called in, "Hello!  I'm Susie from next door!"

     She heard a girl's voice.  "Come on in, Susie!"

     Entering, Susie found a darkish kitchen with antique
equipment, except for a big new automatic washer.  A girl was
about to dump an armload of wash into it.  She had glossy, dark
straight hair cut in bangs, and eyes like black velvet.  She
smiled dazzlingly over the mass of clothing at Susie.

     "I'm Rita," she said.

     Then she spilled the clothing in and Susie's eyes went round,
for Rita's housework costume consisted of a South Seas sarong from
waist to mid-thigh, yellow and orange flowers on a blue
background.  Otherwise she was naked, and came toward Susie with
big white breasts wobbling and tossing about.

     Rita seized Susie's hands and pressed them warmly in
greeting.  Then, seeing Susie's blush and her open-mouthed gaping,
she laughed.

     She said, "You're shocked by my bare boobies, Susie?  Well,
it's summer.  Hot weather.  And I'm on a South Seas kick, reading
all about Polynesia, learning to dance the hula and play the
ukulele, and how to cook fish with bananas.  So I wear a sarong
like the Hawaiians did before the missionaries got at them, just
hip down and hooray for bare tits!"

     Susie surprised herself by giggling.

     Rita said, "You don't mind?  I mean, we're a nutty bunch, the
six of us, and we do things different.  I don't want to offend
you."

     The notion of recreating the South Seas here in suburbia
appealed to Susie.  Why shouldn't Rita do this?  It was her house.
But she was a bit shocked, especially since Rita's breasts were so
big, the dark crowns enormous.  Hard to avoid looking at them.
And what about the men at the house?  They were such luscious
boobs.

     She asked, "But don't the fellows just pant  stare?"

     "Only when I hula," Rita said, and started to, raising her
arms and clapping her hands rhythmically above her head while her
hips began gyrating and her breasts, wow, they practically seemed
to revolve!  Rita added, "Doing this, a girl can get very quickly
fucked, you know."

     Her eyes twinkled so impishly that Susie burst out laughing.

     Seeing this, Rita stopped dancing and threw her arms about
Susie, hugged her, crying, "Susie, how you laugh!  I believe you
should be one of us.  Love and laughter are what we care about.
Welcome to the Zoo, which some call the Pageant, though my husband
Howard says it's Howard's Horny Haven."

     Susie felt a burst of affection toward her new friend, and
returned her hug.

     She was delighted with the Zoo, the Pageant, Howard's Horny
Haven.

     But never had she blushed so furiously, as though her cheeks
and throat were on fire.

     Rita started the washing machine while filling Susie in on
the denizens of the house.  Her husband, Howard, invented things.
Nick was an artist, and his wife, Gwen, was deep into yoga.  The
third couple, Phil and Willa, were not married.  She worked as a
secretary.  Phil had quit his job to inner-search homosexual
tendencies that Rita thought non-existent.

     As she spoke, the bare-breasted Rita's hand caressed Susie's,
and vined up her arms.

     These affectionate gestures warmed Susie's heart, for she had
always been one to hold friends' hands, be they men or women, when
in deep conversation.

     Still, when Rita hugged her, squeezing a hot, bare breast to
hers, she blushed.  Well, she thought, I'm just not used to it!

     "Now for the guided tour," Rita said.

     She took Susie first to the dining room, which contained a
round table lacquered Chinese red, green chairs, a yellow highboy
and abstract paintings in exploding colors.  Despite the shading
of the porch roof, the room dazzled the eyes.

     "Now the yoga parlor, Susie."

     This was darkish, paneled in natural wood, with a couple of
posters and no furniture except a wood platform raised a foot on
which a girl sat in what Rita explained was called lotus-seat
position, cross-legged, her thighs winged out at right angles and
her feet intertwined.  Her hair was bound up in a white snood held
by a red-jeweled clip above her forehead.  She sat chin-high and
straight-backed, the position cruelly painful in Susie's view, yet
her hands, on her knees, thumbs and forefingers forming circles,
looked completely relaxed, her face serene.  It was a lovely,
flat-cheeked face, hazel-eyed, with a speck of red paint in the
middle of her forehead.

     The girl was nude.  More than nude, for her pubic hair was
shaven off.

     "Gwen, you're busy?" Rita asked.

     Eyes that had been fixed on the facing wall turned slowly to
Rita.  She smiled, a very gentle smile.

     She said, "No, darling.  I'm only at the second level."

     Then Rita astonished Susie by bending down over the nude Gwen
and kissing her on the mouth.

     Susie gasped on seeing that their mouths were open, pink
tongues twining about each other.

     Rita straightened, said, "This is Susie."

     Gwen's placid gaze washed slowly up Susie from feet to face.

     "Hello," she murmured.

     Rita said, "Susie, the rule of the house is that we kiss if
we haven't seen each other for some hours, and of course on
meeting people."

     "My goodness," Susie said, eyes and mouth round.  She had
never kissed a girl on the mouth but good taste said when in Rome
do as the Romans, so she bent down to Gwen, whose face turned up,
smiling, and Susie held her breath and kissed her.

     A dainty tongue-tip slid into her mouth.

     The sensation so startled her that she licked the girl's
tongue without realizing what she was doing, and when she
straightened she felt stunned, saw stars spinning in the darkish
room.

     The wall posters had come into focus.  There were two, in
garish colors, mostly dark red and blue.  One showed a man in
lotus-seat position.  He had a Buddha smile and a vaguely Oriental
look about him.  But more important, from between his crossed legs
rose a penis of elephantine dimension.

     Gwen said, "He is the Nepalese Virile Buddha, and she is a
Sikkanese Siva."

     The Siva was the other poster, a woman with impossibly
globular breasts concealing her torso, and a round, red vaginal
opening the size of her head.

     Gwen added, "On the higher levels, these gods can be quite
nicely mimicked."

     Susie had a hunch what she meant.  She slipped a glance at
Gwen's hairless crotch and saw her split spread wide open, the
mouth of her vagina a gaping red ring.

     Flushing up to the roots of her hair she looked quickly away.

     "Susie, I will instruct you in yoga, if you wish," Gwen said.

     Susie gulped.  "That's terribly kind of you."

     "It is my Karma."

     Before Susie could decipher this, Rita had taken her arm and
was leading her to the next room, leaving Gwen to her meditation.

     This room was spacious and walled with books, clearly the
library.  There were footstools and cushions on the floor and a
single couch, on which sat an angular woman wearing a cocktail
dress, earrings, makeup, high-heeled shoes.  She had exceptionally
broad shoulders and long feet.

     Rita said, "Susie, this is Phil."

     Phil looked appraisingly over her, then said in a bass growl,
"Hi."

     Rita bent down and kissed Phil on the mouth.

     By the time Susie had offered the ritual kiss she saw that
Phil had missed shaving a patch of stubble beard under his jaw.
The kiss, though, was soft and seemed feminine.

     As their mouths parted he said, "Hey, you're a luscious
broad, Susie.  Welcome to the Zoo."

     Susie thanked him, though she was not used to being called a
broad by strangers.

     Then Phil turned to Rita and said, "Shit, Rita, this goddamn
costume makes me feel like a jerk.  I'm just no transvestite.
Except for the panties.  They give me a hard on.  Christ, you
should see it!"

     "Well, show me," Rita said.

     Phil raised his skirt, revealing hairy thighs and pink nylon
panties stretched by the stiffness of his massively swollen penis.

     Rita laughed.

     Susie gasped.

     He grumbled, "The earrings hurt and the fucking wig makes me
sweat and I can't walk on these high heels.  I think I'll chuck it
except for the panties.  Do they make me fae.  Huh?"

     Rita said, "You're always trying to get into panties, so to
speak.  Though of course here at the Zoo you're the only one
wearing them, ever!"

     Susie had noticed that when Rita walked, her sarong gaped on
the hip where it was tied and she saw no panties, just white
flesh, so that left Phil wearing panties and her, Susie.

     Phil kicked off his shoes and began unscrewing the earrings,
grumbling, "Fucking things women wear.  Transvestites got to be
nuts."

     Rita took Susie's arm and led her out of the library to a
hall.  Across it, through open doors, Susie saw a room full of
large, potted plants, gilded bird cages full of twittering and
flittering feathered creatures, plus a two-person swing hanging
from the ceiling by chains wrapped in crimson velvet.

     "The swing room," Rita said, and without further explanation
led her to the next doorway and inside.  "The ward robe," she
said.

     It was a small room walled with racks of clothing, a medley
of colors from which Susie picked out certain costumes, a clown
suit, a fireman's helmet and raincoat, and many indecipherable
gossamer garments.

     Rita said, "You can be a bullfighter, lion tamer, acrobat,
ballet dancer, whatever turns you on.  Some of our bunch change
every day, though Gwen sticks to saris and I'm on sarongs right
now."

     Susie was delighted.  Dressing up, becoming someone
else  wonderful!  Escape being Brian's wife!

     "I'm going to change, now that I'm finished in the kitchen,"
Rita said, untying her sarong.  She stripped it off, naked now,
though less naked than Gwen had been, for Rita had a dark pussy
bush that big birds could nest in, a wealth of belly and crotch
hair.  She flung her sarong onto a rack and took another, this one
of flowering hibiscus on maroon.  She said, "Susie, you remind me
of the White Rock girl, you know, on the soda bottles.  The woods
nymph perched on a rock gazing at her reflection in the water?
Here!"

     From a hanger she took a brief pale-blue garment so lightly
woven that it was almost a mesh.

     "Put it on, Susie," Rita said.

     Delighted, Susie peeled off her dress.  She was fitting it to
a wire hanger when Phil came in carrying his female garments.

     He still wore the pink panties with his penis standing out
like a hammer handle tenting them.

     Susie, in bra and panties, choked back a cry of alarm.  She
tried to cover her front with her dress.

     Phil hung up his dress.  He was chewing on an unlit cigar.

     Rita was laughing.  "Susie, continue undressing.  Phil sees
us girls nude all the time.  Besides, he has this fag hangup, like
he's really hot for guys.  Huh, Phil?"

     "Shit," Phil said.  "I think the trouble is, like the book
says, guys have no way to show affection for other guys.  I see
you broads kiss and hug, but guys just shake hands.  So I dressed
in drag to see what dreams might come, like if there's queer in
me.  But what happened was I got horny for Susie.  Susie, you got
a really cute ass, you know?"

     Susie swallowed hard, and said, "Thank you, Phil."

     "I'm going out and work in the garden.  Susie, later you and
me will have a talk, huh?"

     And Phil left.

     Susie was puzzled.  She asked, "Is he serious, Rita?  I mean,
his dressing up like a woman seemed silly to me."

     Rita smiled.  "He may have been merely begging for attention.
Or testing his fantasies?  I don't know.  It's his bag.  Come now,
sweetheart, undress.  I'll help."

     She began unhooking Susie's bra.

     When she had done that, her hands lowered and Susie felt them
trace the form of her pantied behind.

     Rita murmured, "Phil's right, Susie, you have an adorable
ass!"

     She helped push Susie's panties down, then laid lingering
caresses on Susie's high-sprung, pearly globes.

     It felt rather pleasant, Susie thought, but scary, and she
hurriedly struggled into her costume.

     The wood-nymph outfit, she discovered, had only half a top, a
left shoulder from which the gauzy material angled down across her
left breast to her right waist, leaving one pink-capped orb
completely exposed.

     The skirt reached just below her crotch.  The material was so
sheer that it did no more than veil her pussy hair.  She needed
panties but knew they were taboo in this house.

     "You look utterly toothsome!" Rita cried.

     She seized Susie's hand and led her out to the hall, saying,
"Come, we'll make tea, then have a swing."

     Susie cringed with fear that Phil or one of the other men
would appear in the hall and see her bare breasts.  But the house
seemed empty except for them, and of course the shaven-crotched
Gwen on her yoga platform.

     In the kitchen Rita put water on to boil.  From a row of tea
canisters she chose one called Kashmir Karma.  She spooned some
into the teapot, poured on boiling water, and from a shelf got
tall cups made of bamboo.

     When the brew had been poured, Susie was at first bemused by
the woody feel of the bamboo on her lips, but the tea proved much
stranger, having the fragrance and sort of the taste of perfume,
if perfume tasted as it smelled.

     "It's weird," she commented.

     "I agree.  And it is slightly narcotic, besides having
aphrodisiac qualities."

     "Oh!" Susie cried.  "You mean, it makes you feel sexy?"

     "I bet it will wet your pussy," Rita chuckled.  "Drink up,
and we'll go swing."

     Susie was feeling very odd when they left the kitchen, as
though her feet did not quite reach the floor.  She was glad for
the security of Rita's arm about her waist, despite her
embarrassment at the plopping of her bare right breast against
Rita's.

     In the swing room Rita asked, "Want to try a jiji?"

     "A jiji?"

     "Howard made some in his workshop." She opened a drawer and
took out two small plastic egg shapes.  She said, "Inside each are
two ball bearings of unequal size.  Japanese women have used them
forever.  Come, sit on the swing."

     The swing was comfortably padded, seat and back, and had room
for the two of them.

     Susie watched with horror as Rita sat, spreading her legs.
She raised her sarong and tucked the jiji into the hairiness of
her split, pushing it up her channel.  She then closed her thighs.

     She handed Susie the other and said, "Up your love hole,
darling."

     Susie could only think once more, when in Rome do as the
Romans  

     The jiji was slippery, and so was her vagina.  It popped
right in.

     "Now we swing," Rita said.







                            Chapter 3

     When Susie got over the embarrassment of having inserted the
jiji, it seemed nothing, a tiny firmness in her belly.

     Then Rita kicked off and they were swinging.

     Susie had not been on a swing since childhood.  It seemed a
silly thing to do, sitting here in her wood-nymph costume, one
rosy-capped white breast exposed, beside Rita in her sarong,
gliding back and forth.  She smiled tolerantly.

     But after the swing had inscribed its third arc she was
staring bug-eyed down at her crotch, which had the feeling of
bursting open like a melon.  But her thighs were firmly together.
Inside, something like the throbbing head of a fiercely engorged
penis was wobbling insanely about.

     She felt clicks, uneven jarrings as the two roller bearings
knocked together and against the plastic jiji.  The movements were
almost imperceptible.  She held her breath to not disrupt the
rhythm of that inner wobbling, or to calculate it.  But there was
no rhythm.  The lack of one tantalized her until she began to
initiate one, forcing down, sucking back.  The egg-shaped blob was
everywhere and nowhere.

     "Give with it, darling," Rita smiled.

     Susie gave, found herself prickling all over, her titties
heating, every click of the roller bearings sending waves of
sensuality rippling to her very fingertips.  She gazed at Rita,
who seemed transformed, her dark eyes velvety, her lips so
glistening red.  And desirable!  Susie felt a yearning she could
not believe.  She wanted  needed  had to  kiss her swing partner!

     She touched Rita's face.  An arm glided about her neck,
softly vining.  They neared and a tongue tip slipped from those
red lips to meet hers.  Liquidly their mouths met, flowed into
each other.  They turned together and a facing breast melted into
Susie's exposed one.  She felt the hard growth of nipples, could
not guess which was hers.

     She was lapping at Rita's mouth, inside it, licking her
tongue, and oh, the sweet humid warmth oozed through her to her
jiji-rocked vagina, as though Rita's tongue had gone right through
there and nudged the plastic gadget about!

     Never had she imagined that she could enjoy kissing a girl.

     They were breathing hard.  She whispered, "Rita, you're so
sweet to me.  I adore you!"

     Rita smiled and nuzzled her cheek.  Susie fingered her
throat, felt up over the girl's neck into that glossy hair, which
clung so sensually to her fingers.  She caressed it, stroked the
nape of her neck.

     The jiji seemed to wallow in an oil bath, every movement
softer and less predictable than the one before.  It was a hundred
times more feminine and gentle than a throbbing penis, yet in its
mild way frantically exciting.

     Susie was exploring, fingering Rita's velvety cheek, the curl
and turn of her ear, each movement a slow, voluptuous adventure.
And when her fingers walked downward onto the swell of firm breast
it seemed quite natural to stroke the smooth orb, circling it,
then finding the center, the rubbery areola as big as her palm and
the rigid protrusion of the nipple.

     She forked her fingers on it, squeezed, held on for Rita was
kissing her throat and the soft, wet mouth sent fiery waves
fanning through her flesh.

     Rita murmured, "I burn you with my kisses, my love."

     Susie had once read the line, a bit from the Song of Bilitis,
the love poems of Sappho of Lesbos.

     She whispered, "But Rita, I'm not Lesbian.  Am I?"

     "You are my wood-nymph sweetheart."

     Fingers brushed at Susie's shoulder.  The gauzy material slid
down her arm and a palm descended her now-bare left breast and
sleekly crossed her stiff nipple.

     Moaning with pleasure, she squeezed Rita in closer, and
whispered, "If I'm your sweetheart then aren't we Lesbians, Rita?"

     "Do you want to be?"

     "Why, you see, I never thought about it.  I mean, can I be
something I'm not?"

     "Here at the Pageant we think you can find what different
things you are, and make each one beautiful, something to be proud
of.  I love you and I can love a man, and love myself, which
people say amounts to narcissism, and its act is called
masturbation.  But masturbation can be proud and beautiful."

     Susie reflected on this.  "I'm quite confused, Rita."

     "Yes, sweetheart, because you thought sex was just a man
pronging your hole.  That's why in a moment I am going to leave
you here to study yourself, discover the effect of Kashmir Karma
tea dissolving your hangups and wetting your pussy, swinging your
jiji, while you face up to a Susie you may not have known."

     "Don't leave me!"

     "Trust me, sweetheart.  Now kiss me, and fondle my breast and
I'll swing through a cum, then go take care of some kitchen
things."

     Susie felt tears in her eyes.  Clinging to Rita like this,
she had hopes that Lesbianism would be a simple answer, a
perversion she had never suspected but which might explain her
unhappy relations with her husband.  Now Rita hinted that the
cause of her ecstasy was Kashmir Karma and the jiji rather than
mere lust for another female.

     Their mouths met, squashily sucking, and oh the thrill of
licking her lover's slippery tongue!  And clutching her big, firm
breast, feeling the huge nipple bore at her palm.  Rita kicked the
swing high and as they lurched downward through the arc the jiji
in Susie's vagina seemed to turn end over end in bubbly hot froth,
yummy delicious, sweet thrill far short of orgasm but really just
as good.

     Then Rita's tongue shot into her mouth, and the girl moaned,
stiffened, writhed, flung about the seat.

     "MY cum-m-m!" she moaned.  "There, I've cum, oh my sweetest
lollipop I've cum in your arms, dear wood-nymph Susie!"

     Spasms shook her to a jelly within Susie's embrace.

     Rita had sprawled against her, panting, for some moments.

     Then the girl slid from her grasp, off the swing.  She retied
her sarong.  The way her dark nipples jutted, Susie thought them
like thumbs.

     Rita went to the hall door, which stood open, and Susie, on
noticing that, thought, Goodness, anyone could have looked in and
seen us!

     Rita said, "I'll close the door.  The back is a mirror.  I
want you to look at yourself, and perhaps you'll see what I see."

     Her lips formed a kiss.  She touched two fingers to it and
tossed them at Susie, then went out, shutting the door behind her.

     The door was broad, the mirror large enough to show the whole
double swing.  Susie closed her eyes, not wanting to look at
herself.  She wriggled to the center of the swing and pushed back,
let herself go while concentrating on the moving little egg shape
buried in her belly.

     It clicked, wobbled, swam about in the frothy juice, and from
it gentle waves of heat seeped throughout her body.  She smiled.
How gently exciting!  Yes, it was rather like the head of a penis
throbbing inside her.

     She heard the trilling song of a canary.

     She looked upward, avoiding the mirror, saw the golden little
bird in a gilded cage, and in another a parakeet bow-leggedly and
comically climbing a tilted perch.  She smiled.  And the room
smelled of flowers and green growth.

     She grasped the velvet-sheathed chains leading to the
ceiling.  How sensual velvet was!  And birds and flowers, and
swinging almost nude, wearing only the mesh-like blue wood-nymph
costume with a single shoulder and a see-through skirt.  It was
not under her behind.  She sat on soft silkiness.

     At last she gazed at her mirror image.

     The dress shoulder still hung down her arm.  She raised it in
place and studied the blue-eyed blonde girl on the swing, with her
one white breast exposed.  The pink areola had puffed out,
extending the nipple so that together they formed a rather large
cone.  Never before had this breast cap appeared so turgid.  But
then, never had it pressed another woman's boob, nor been
stimulated by butter-soft female fingers.  Susie stroked it,
watched it become ever more bulgy and shiny.  Could Kashmir Karma
have done this, altered her senses?  Goodness but I'm big titted,
she thought.

     She gazed at the skirt, like a blue mist over her upper
thighs, shadowing her pussy but in no way hiding the blonde-brown
fluffiness.  And her clit, what had Kashmir Karma done to it?
Certainly, it felt terribly hot and swollen.

     She was afraid to look.

     But the seeming hugeness of her breast cap did arouse her
curiosity, and at last she drew back her skirt and spread her
legs.

     The pink nubbin stood right out of her pussy hair.

     Gasping with astonishment, she slipped a finger in under it,
and oh that horny prong did look like a little boy's prick,
standing right out of the glossy notch, an inch of it.  Or longer?

     She tweaked it between thumb and forefinger.

     "Oh-h-h-h!"

     Hot!  Sizzling, on fire, and suddenly she was swinging hard,
the cockhead jiji wobbling and throbbing maniacally in her vagina,
her fingers tugging the clit-prick out ever longer and flames
shooting throughout her body.

     She watched herself squirm on the swing, saw its pendulous
movement become erratic as she switched about.  Her face flamed.
Legs spread, she saw her vaginal mouth seem to gulp, suck and
blow, a glossy red little convulsing hole dribbling juices.

     Faster and faster she twiddled her clitoris, stretching it,
poking it in under its hood, wresting it about, treating it like a
light switch and then a doorbell, then pulling, pulling  

     "Wow!" Susie cried.  "I'm cum-ming like crazy!"

     The flush of orgasm had descended from her face, down her
throat, pinked her exposed tit.  The cap of this swelled out as
though to burst.  She clapped a hand to it, squeezed while
stretching her clit.

     She shrieked, hips jerking wildly now, her behind flagging
about the padded silky seat, the swing rocking and tossing.

     Inside her the clicking roller bearings raced, clattered,
jarred her vagina in the lightest, most delicious way; as though a
butterfly were up her hole and flapping crazily.

     Then she saw her mouth go round and small, her eyes huge.
She was hissing like a punctured tire, then gasping, swallowing
air as her face turned beet-red.

     She saw herself peak, heard her cunt gurgling, felt her clit
pop like shooting bubbles out at the mirror.

     Then, slumped into a heap on the swing, she was smiling at
her mirror image.

     "I like you, Susie," she said.

     Her hips still moved, but slower, as she humped more feebly,
descending from the heights of orgasm.

     She watched the little egg-shaped jiji fill the mouth of her
vagina.  Cupping a hand under it, she squeezed her sphincter
muscle, and there, it popped right out!

     She got off the swing and took the jiji to the chest of
drawers where Rita had gotten it.  She found a box of tissues,
wiped it clean and put it in a box with several others, of which
it was now the smallest.

     There were combs in the drawer.  She took one and, facing the
mirror, tidied her hair.  She thought, Really, I look nice in this
outfit, the blue going very well with my eyes, the exposed breast
a quite lovely orb, to tell the truth, And though my pussy hair
shows through, everybody knows I have hair down my belly and
between my legs, don't they?  Fortunately my clit snuggles down
into the lip folds when soft, and I can see only a faint pink
glistening under the fur.

     Susie put away the comb and opened the mirror door, venturing
into the hall.  She heard not a sound in the house except for the
bird twitterings behind her.  She recalled that the wardrobe was
to the left, the library ahead.  She decided to retrace the course
she and Rita had taken from the kitchen, which took her first to
the library.

     It was a pleasant room, had a nice big window, so many
hundreds of colorful book bindings, the couch and footstools and
floor cushions all in different hues.

     On one shelf lay a pack of cigarettes and matches.  She took
a cigarette and lit it, then thought, Goodness, I shouldn't just
take things!  But Rita had made her feel so welcome, as though she
belonged here, that, she simply sat down on a footstool, hugging
her knees, and smoked the cigarette.

     She noted that she smelled strongly of pussy.

     Normally her instinct would be to rush to the bathroom and
wash up, take a douche if possible.  But she felt rather lazy,
much relaxed by that big fat cum on the swing, and the odor
somehow pleased her.

     Glancing over the bookshelves she saw An Encyclopedia of
Sexology.

     She rose and took out Volume C.  The shelf was broad enough
to lay the book open on it.  She paged through to clitoris, found
the opening line, "A small organ in the anterior vulva, homologous
to the male penis.  The focal point of female sexual sensation."

     She flipped through the pages and found an astonishing
picture, a naked black woman with a plumpish appendage dangling
out of her vulval lips, four or five inches long!

     She scanned the description.  "Arrifra tribe of West Africa,
practices clitoridectomy, incision of the clitoris and lengthening
by manipulation  including hanging objects from it  "

     Goodness! she thought.

     She heard a voice say, "Susie."

     A male voice.  She glanced at the doorway, saw Phil standing
there, still wearing his pink panties stretched out to a tent
before him by a massive erection.

     He said, "Susie, I apologize for leering at you.  But gosh,
your ass just sends me.  I mean I'd like to lick it all over.  And
nibble.  I mean, just sit down on a footstool and feast on ass
cheeks."

     Susie was too startled to speak, but what she thought was,
Oh, my goodness!











                            Chapter 4

     Gazing at Phil, Susie almost forgot that she was a married
woman wearing a diaphanous costume that completely exposed one
breast, alone with a horny young man.  Perhaps Phil's ridiculous
appearance, wearing a girl's panties and smeared remnants of
feminine makeup while smoking a stump of a cigar, teased her sense
of humor.  Too, his friendly and apologetic manner pleased her.
And he did not look threatening.  He was of medium size, was not
particularly muscular, though his body was well formed.  He had
brownish hair, eyes of indeterminate hue, and the pretty lips
that, when she had given him the kiss of greeting, had felt so
feminine on hers.

     At length she said, "Phil, that's not nice to say, talking
about kissing my behind!"

     He frowned.  She thought she saw a blush color his cheek.

     He said, "I'm trying to learn to talk out my hangups, Susie.
My girl friend, Willa, says I'm repressed.  I've got all these
inhibitions, like you have no idea how long it took me to get up
the nerve to dress in drag.  To see how it felt.  Do you
understand?"

     Susie, who had just had her first glimpse into herself at
what might be repressed Lesbianism, recognized a fellow sufferer,
and said, "I'm sorry I spoke sharply, Phil."

     "Oh, that's all right.  Look, I have some tea steeping.
Would you like a cup?"

     "That's awfully kind of you."

     He darted off.  Susie stood there, a finger in the clitoris
section of the encyclopedia, thinking about Phil's desire to kiss
her behind.  It was a bit flattering, really.  And his frank but
shy manner was rather touching.  It brought out her maternal
instincts.

     He returned with two of the bamboo mugs and toed a couple of
footstools to position where they could sit facing.  The sight of
his erect penis tenting the pink panties did make her blush but
she resolved to accustom herself to it.  She laid her book on the
floor and took the bamboo mug.

     "Is it Kashmir Karma?" she asked.

     "Yes.  Rita's suggestion.  She says it will do both of us
good.  I asked her to join us but she said she wants us to get
acquainted.  She's gone out to hoe in the garden."

     Susie guessed she should not drink a second cup of the tea,
considering how the first had dissolved her inhibitions.  But Rita
had suggested it and she trusted Rita, so she sipped it and lit
another cigarette from the pack on the shelf, using the ash tray
Phil had placed on the floor between them.

     He said, "I've tried Gwen's yoga.  But it makes me nervous,
sitting in that funny position just staring at the raunchy wall
posters.  So Gwen said, ease off, try again during the quarter
moon.  Or maybe it was the full moon, I don't know."

     "Have you gone back  had an  experience?"

     "No.  I thought I'd study myself in depth, here.  Now look,
Susie, what happens I see you standing at the bookshelves, up on
tiptoes reaching for the encyclopedia, which lifted your skirt
half off those luscious cheeks, and my cock stiffened in two
seconds flat!  Does that sound weird?"

     Susie had to agree that it didn't.

     "So Susie, I thought it might be therapeutic to work out the
urge, sublimate my hard on, touch your rump with just my
fingertips and mouth.  Dig?  I know it's a lot to ask since we
just met but I feel you belong here, like you're one of us."

     Susie, halfway through her cup of Kashmir Karma, really did
feel like one of them, at home, no longer embarrassed by the
erection tenting his pink panties or her exposed right breast.
Thus, sipping tea and smoking her cigarette, she pondered the
matter.  Considering, for instance, Rita's hospitality and her
easy acceptance by both Gwen and Phil, she had certain
obligations.

     She asked, "Do you really think it would be therapeutic,
Phil?  Sort of medicinal, curative?"

     "Susie, I don't know.  I think I should try.  Look, don't
think I'll go wild and jam my cock into you.  I'm really too timid
for that."

     "Sort of a scientific experiment, huh?"

     He nodded.

     Finished with her tea, Susie decided the least she could do
would be to cooperate.  After all, what harm was there in it?
None.  It simply seemed odd.

     He said, "Like if you'd kneel on the stool facing the
shelves  "

     Very well.  She got up, moved the footstool closer to the
shelves so she could grip them, turned her back on Phil and knelt.

     "Beautiful!" Phil cried.

     She felt the skirt lifted to her waist, hung there, then
fingertips tracing the forms of her cheeks and Phil's warm breath
fanning them.

     "Pearly," he said.  "Like two full moons.  You ready, Susie?"

     "Yes-s!" she said, her voice hissing, quite strangely
excited, gasping when a wet lash laid a cool streak on her right
cheek.  It ended in a light suction, which remained for a moment,
followed by a gentle nibbling.

     She closed her eyes.

     Phil's lips wandered across her cleft to the other cheek,
marked a curving course down it, suckered fast.  A nibble.  A
pull.  Moving on across the cleft again to the other, wetting and
pulling and nipping flesh until the many little kisses and
caresses had both cheeks tingling most pleasurably, producing a
warmth that glowed right into the heart of her.

     "Susie, you don't mind?"

     "It feels very nice," she had to admit.  "I mean, Phil, my
husband is so harsh, I find this puzzling.  But sweet."

     He renewed his labial attack, his kisses  now voracious,
circling each cheek, leaping to the other, nibbles more frequent,
some a bit painful, though she came to find them strangely
exciting.

     He paused, breathing hotly on her lower cleft.  "Susie,
you're getting wet."

     "I am?"

     "Yes, there's drool slipping out and running down your
thighs.  Shall I lick it up?"

     Having no tissues with which to mop up the juice, she guessed
something should be done about it, or she would stain whatever she
sat on.

     She said, "That might be best," and moved her knees farther
apart to let him get in between her thighs.  And oh, the lovely
wet caressing feel of his tongue down there, lapping steadily at
the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs!

     He murmured, "Your pussy smells great, sweet and hot."

     She had to admit to herself that it felt good, too,
pleasantly loose and quivering on each tongue-lash of her thighs.

     She said, choking, "I suppose  it's somewhat  open?"

     "Yes, and sort of blinking at me."

     She thought she heard a suppressed chuckle.  Teasing her.

     He said, "I could lick the juice off it, too."

     That, Susie thought, was going beyond their agreement but she
was tempted to let him, especially as his tongue-tip slitted
between her pussy lips and thighs, nudging in thrilling fashion.

     He relieved her dilemma by saying, "There, kissing your ass
was as sweet as I'd hoped, Susie.  So now let's talk."

     Sighing with regret, she climbed off the stool, turned about
on it and sat facing Phil.

     He began, "No good with your husband, huh?"

     "He thinks a woman should scream with joy when he brutalizes
her."

     Phil reached to Susie and patted her knee comfortingly.

     She clasped his hand, said, "I began to wonder if I wasn't a
man-hater.  But you're so sweet, Phil."  Then her gaze fell on
Volume C of the encyclopedia.  She said, "I have another problem.
It seems dreadful to mention it to you.  Embarrassing!"

     "Susie, it's my turn to try to understand."

     His gaze was so sympathetic that Susie came out with it.  "I
have too much clit."

     His eyebrow raised wonderingly, and he gazed toward her
crotch.  "Too much?  I don't get it.  Maybe you'd better show me."

     Goodness, she thought.  Display it to him?  Oh, wow!  But
something made her want to show Phil, perhaps his frankly
expressed desire to kiss and lick her behind, a strange sharing
that seemed to make all else possible.

     She said, "You won't laugh?"

     "No!  It might be therapeutic, Susie."

     Blushing she drew back her skirt, and, sitting there on the
stool, spread her cocked-up legs and fingered her pussy lips open.

     Her clit was semi-erect, a glistening pink worm.  She slipped
a fingertip under it and raised to display it to him.

     Phil's response was direct.  He reached, gently lifted it off
her finger and enclosed it in the warmth of his own fingertips.

     She watched him toy with the little appendage, caressing it
in such fashion that it quickly achieved full, horny stiffness.
And it heated.  It was pulsing excitedly.

     "It's beautiful," Phil murmured.  "Susie, clits are often
hard to find, sometimes way inside.  But yours, gosh, I can really
hold onto it!"

     She was so pleased that she leaned to Phil and kissed his
cheek.  Relieved!  She clutched his bare shoulders and nuzzled
about his face while he lightly massaged her little jinker.

     "You like it?" she whispered in his ear.

     "Susie, I'd like to get down on it.  Lick it.  You want?"

     The proposal excited her, but rubbing her mouth on Phil's
cheek, she gazed down at the tent in his pink panties and got
rather different ideas.

     She said, "No, but don't stop what you're doing."

     Then she reached down his chest, down his belly to the panty
waistband.  She slid her fingers inside, down into a girl's
panties in search of the strangest object ever found within such a
garment.  Her fingertips touched it.  Bony hard!  And hot, so hot
as her fingers vined about it, caressing the stony flesh, walking
out to the end of it and the great, spongy knob.

     "Susie!" he gasped, as though surprised.

     And she murmured in his ear, "Wow, such a hard penis.  Okay
if I hold it?"

     "Sure, but be careful with the glans, it gets irritated."

     She was dubious about the location of the glans.  The head?
It looked all fiery.  She delved deeper into the panty crotch and
found his scrotum heaped there where the garment was shaped to hug
a pussy, which made her giggle.  Imagine, male organs encased in
nylon that had no opening through which his prick could be let out
to pee!  How nutty.  But sensual too, feeling girl nylon on her
knuckles, but the sac of plump testicles in her cupped hand.  She
loved the feel of them, like shelled, hard-boiled eggs, wobbling
about as she jiggled them.

     He said, "Susie, you're a very sensual girl, you know that?
Jiggling my nuts that way."

     "They're yummy nuts," Susie said, then felt a blush burn her
cheek.  What she had said!  Nuts, to a boy.  But the situation was
unusual, they sitting spread-legged on stools facing, she nuzzling
his cheek, he lovingly squeezing and pulling her extended clit,
she with a hand in his pink panties holding his testicles, the
length of his horny organ a burning brand against her forearm.
She drew back enough to see his eyes and asked, "Phil, do I seem
prudish?  I mean, I just said nuts when I meant testicles, and it
made me burn with shame."

     "I was worse until Willa untied my tongue.  Susie, however
you talk or act, I love it."

     "But that may not be the real me," she said thoughtfully,
sure that this Susie in the wood-nymph tunic with one breast bare,
fondling a boy's testicles in pink nylon panties, sitting on the
stool with thighs winged out so he could finger her clitoris, was
a girl who had not existed before, a product of Kashmir Karma and
jiji, who had a scant hour before been astonished by her unmasked
lesbian tendencies.  Within her still lurked the Susie who was
Brian's trampled wife, whose only outlet was self-abuse; a shy and
probably prissy homemaker.

     She felt Phil's soft lips press her forehead.

     The tender kiss made her smile with pleasure.  She gazed down
his body to his stretched panties, where she let his scrotum rest
in the pussy-shaped crotch and began fingering his rigid stem.
The underside of the head pressed her wrist.  It felt hot and a
bit sticky.  Thumb-nailing the split she found the source of this,
a slight seepage.  She pressed all about the sponginess of the
head, found the plushy sheathing of the organ to be thick, the
boniness within a rather small core.  This explained why such a
swollen knob could fit into a vagina, she thought, the outer
softness changing shape as required.

     Never before had she examined a penis in such detail.  She
enjoyed every moment of it, and her self-confidence grew out of
Phil's patience and his obvious pleasure in their sexuality.

     She glanced at her crotch, saw Phil's fingertips tugging her
prong of wet pink clit.  Her brown-haired pussy lips had ovalled
out from it, and the glistening flesh of her cunt appeared
swollen, especially the protruding lips bracketing the drooling
mouth of her love hole.

     Her one bare breast, with its jutting cone of nipple and
engorged areola, needed attention.  She plucked at Phil's free
hand and brought it to the hot cap.  The warmth of his palm made
the livid swelling pulse excitedly.

     They had done their sex backwards, she thought, first her
clit, then her tittie.  And now a kiss?

     Yes.  She nuzzled down to Phil's mouth and licked it open.
She felt the strong meatiness of his tongue respond, and she
sucked it to her throat.

     The kiss did not last long.  She was too short of breath.

     He whispered, "Susie, we're going to fuck, huh?"

     She, squeezing his horny prick, responded on impulse.

     "Yes, Phil!  Of course we will!"







                            Chapter 5

     Susie was blushing furiously, hiding from his gaze in another
deep tongue kiss.

     That quickly she had agreed to take his organ up her love
hole!  Wow!  Susie, Susie!  Unfaithful wife?  But be sensible,
Susie, it's no more an infidelity than what you're doing,
massaging his horny organ while he twiddles your clit.

     Having put that from her mind, the question remaining was her
own body's state of receptivity.  The wet pulls of her vagina did
feel eager, and she wondered how long that had been going on.

     She kissed her way to Phil's ear and whispered, "When you
were kissing my behind you said my love hole was blinking at you."

     "Like a fish mouth gulping and blowing."

     She giggled, picturing that pink ring sucking in and pushing
out, but her giggle broke off when she felt it actually happen,
quite hard pulls and squirty pushes.

     Goodness!

     She looked down at her hand in his panties and knew how it
had to be.  She brought in the other hand and pushed the panties
down his hips, stretching them out over the rigid prong, revealing
it as red as fire, awesomely naked, an upcurved stalk bearing that
splendid big purple-red swollen fruit.

     Like this.  Rising off her stool she grasped his shoulders,
levered up, climbed one leg at a time over his thighs, and when
her hairy pussy was poised over the fat, turgid plum of a
cockhead, she began lowering onto it.

     She could see her livid clit standing up out of its red
notch.

     Hands still on his shoulders, she maneuvered her middle body
toward the cap of his penis.  Her gulping hole felt so huge that
she thought anywhere they met she would simply swallow him.  But
inexperience caused her anus to bump the spongy head, which gave a
rather nice little thrill, but she moved, pressured here and there
until, wow, her inner lips squished on the fat knob, and by
lowering an inch she had the pulsing thing squeezed into the mouth
of her love hole.

     "Baby!" Phil gasped.  "Like honey melting all over my
cockhead!"

     Crouched over him, she stilled, studying the slow, suck-like
workings of her vaginal mouth, gulps, which were erratically
punctuated by the throbs of the plushy knob to which her vulval
lips clung so squashily.

     "Like a fish mouth!" he exclaimed.

     She realized that many men would not let a woman mount them
in this fashion, Brian for sure, but Phil seemed to love it.  They
had been, she thought, like small children exploring a world
reborn, in which neither sex had a role to play.  Certainly she
had no feeling of dominating Phil, was sitting on his cockhead
simply because their position on facing stools had made this the
quickest way of filling her hole.

     She sank down, gasping at each hard pulsing of his prick,
feeling her sphincter clutch and suck his rigid stem instead of
the compressible head.

     With several inches of it up her vagina she paused and
screwed about, stirring her insides on soft-capped rigid prick.
Luscious!  She looked down and saw how near her clit was to his
loins.  The thorny growth felt unbearably hot.  When it pressed
him and she moved about, her cum would surely be triggered.  She
wanted to delay that, take her time evaluating the fit of his cock
to her sucking sheath.

     But now she felt his hands behind, clenching her cheeks and
drawing her to him.

     He choked, "Susie, we've played too long, my load is about to
shoot."

     And liquid flows were racing up and down her vagina, hotter
and hotter, audibly sucking the stiff phallus.

     So she sank downward, hipping about, rotating herself on the
burning staff until her clit pressed his hairy pubes and like a
tiny firecracker bursting she got a preliminary cum, a spasm that
fluttered her belly.

     She was seated on his thighs squeezing to him, absolutely
full of throbbing cock.

     "Oh-hh, Phil!" she moaned.

     "Baby, you're an oven burning my prick!"

     She grasped his arms, tugged them around, his hands on her
swollen tits.

     He gave a squeeze and her cum started, a swirling flow of
heat from each breast meeting halfway down and boiling through her
vagina.

     He humped, raising her, driving the big cockhead to the very
limits of her cuntal pocket.

     She heard herself shriek louder than his groan of release.

     She rose on the fountain spurting inside her, the creamy
milks squirting her full.  Then she went wild, hammering on him,
hip-jerking up and down, bouncing like a pogo stick, lifting until
the spitting cock almost escaped her cunt, but capturing it as it
shot his charge up her hole.

     Her cum was like great fists clenching together, gripping so
hard that they shrank to one, fingers merging, all of it smaller,
down to the size of a knuckle that then exploded.

     She saw stars flame and she was a tunnel housing a racing
locomotive, though its plunge was no less fierce than her sucking
of it.

     She had fallen, her arms hung over Phil's shoulders, limp,
arms like emptied sacks.

     She was crying and smiling and gooshing all over Phil's
loins, each cuntal spasm releasing more of her juices mixed with
his cockspew.

     Her cum ebbed but she did not move for his cock remained a
stiff pillar on which she was impaled, which her vagina still
hugged and laved with its juices and sucked with shameful
eagerness.

     In a daze she let Phil take her to a john where she squatted
and let their sex gook spill into the bowl.

     She was still cumming, she knew, blushing and smiling
rapturously each time Phil caressed her cheek or kissed her
forehead or she squeezed his hand.

     Then she watched Phil standing on tiptoe at the sink, washing
his cock and balls.  She, squatting on the john, was so reduced to
mere flesh that when the urge to pee came over her she just let
go.

     As her urine spattered in the bowl, Phil said, "That Kashmir
Karma is diuretic, makes you piss."

     "Apparently," she murmured, elbows on knees now, chin in
hands, listening to the sizzling spatter of pee and the splashes
as Phil washed his genitals.  She felt a terrible, aching
contentment, a well-being so profound that she was afraid to move
a muscle for fear of flipping the coin to what had to be an ugly
side.  Tears were running down her cheeks, a happy weeping.  Here
she squatted, down in the toilet bowl her cunt winged wide open,
pee-hole spitting and vagina dripping, loose and slobbery and so
happy she was crying.

     She knew she had to leave to present her new being, this
reborn Susie, to the acid test of reality in her house.

     Phil did not ask about her tears.  He kissed them, said,
"I'll be in the library if you want me."

     She nodded, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand, and then
was alone.

     Who was alone?  Susie the wood nymph who had drunk Kashmir
Karma and had swung on jiji and then fucked with Phil, or Susie
the doormat of husband Brian?

     When she had recovered her strength she went silently to the
wardrobe, hung up her tunic, put on her clothes except for
panties  she had to douche out, no use spilling muck in the panty
crotch  and went silently out of the house.

     At home, in her kitchen, she heard the phone ringing.

     She took it from the hook over the kitchen table, sat there
gazing at the panties wadded in her hand as she answered.

     The caller was Madge, Brian's secretary, saying, "Your
husband will be with you in a moment, Mrs. Fenner.  Your line is
on hold."

     "Uh huh," Susie murmured absently.  She tossed the panties on
the table and pulled back her skirt.  Her pussy, she saw, was
still wet, hair matted, the lips puffed and pinkish, ovalled about
the crinkled jelly of her inner parts.  Her clit had gone limp and
lay curled about its notch.

     Then Brian spoke.  "Tonight we're going to Caroso's with
Clayton and his wife, so dress up for Crissakes, you know what a
terrific looking hunk of ass she is, and Caroso's is the in
restaurant, got it?"

     She said, "I thought you were fighting with Clayton."

     "Olive branch stuff, his idea, bury the hatchet.  In my back,
and don't trust his bitch of a wife  he has her trained to milk
you, see, find out what I've said about him, the crummy asshole.
Pick you up about six."

     The line clicked.  Dead.

     She did not lift the receiver up to the hook but laid it on
the table and returned to studying her pussy.

     A few tiny flecks of Phil's creamy jizzum hung in her pink
labial creases, evidence of her infidelity to Brian.

     On the phone, squeaky sounds, perhaps a feminine voice.
Probably it was Madge, repeating Brian's orders.  Madge, who
spread her legs when Brian said to.  At least, that was what Susie
had heard at office parties.  Carla, Clayton's wife, said
everybody knew about it, though Susie had no reason to trust
Carla's word.

     At the moment that whole scene was unimportant.  Susie rose
and headed for the bathroom to douche out her pussy but on the way
her steps slowed.  She felt lethargic, drugged, and reaching the
bedroom she entered and flopped down on the bed.  In her mind
whirled Phil's erection stretching the pink panties, the jiji
wobbling in her vagina as she swung, and Gwen naked down to shaven
vulva, in lotus position on her yoga platform.  It all seemed too
much to absorb.

     She slept through the afternoon.



                            Chapter 6

     Brian arrived late.  He flung himself into the house tearing
off his clothes on the way to the shower.

     Susie sat at the kitchen table sipping a dry martini and
smoking a cigarette.  She wore a blue sheath dress and opal
earrings, heavy eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick.

     Brian, unzipping his pants, gave her a quick look and said,
"Okay, you look all right.  Maybe you'll get into the swing
eventually, dressing like an executive's wife should."

     But Susie was seeing herself as a wood nymph with one breast
exposed, flitting about the house next door.

     He said, "But hold down the boozing or you'll spill the beans
to Clayton's wife, like how big I scored yesterday which Clayton
doesn't realize yet.  That cunt is one sneaky bitch, don't forget
it."

     His pants and shorts fell.  He was kicking out of them,
toeing his shoes off, and everything would remain in a heap for
Susie to haul away.  She gazed at him, thinking what a wonderful
body her husband had, that great hairy chest, the long, muscular
legs.  And his genitals, a dark penis that even limp looked fat
and long, plump testicles weighting his scrotum far down between
his legs.

     He was twice the man Phil was.  But, impaled on Phil's rigid
organ, Susie had gotten the biggest cum of her life.

     Brian went and showered, appeared wearing a new gray suit, a
silky sheen to it, oh yes he was a dreadfully handsome husband to
have, and in the car, a big new sedan, she guessed she should feel
rather queenly, pretty wife of executive exuding success, the same
at Caroso's where a bill that Brian slipped into the headwaiter's
hand bought them the best table and instant service.

     Clayton made a good appearance, smaller than Brian and with a
foxy look  Brian was equally sly but concealed it  handsomely
dressed and adorned by the beauteous Carla, a redhead wearing an
actress bra that squeezed her big white breasts out into view,
sheer sex, that woman, but watch it, she is as sneaky as Brian
says.

     During cocktails the two men went off to the bar to have a
stiff one while clapping each other on the back and roaring at
their jokes.  Susie thought, What a pair of fake, shitty bastards!

     Carla prattled about office gossip, clothes, hairdos, the
latest perfumes and vaginal deodorants, none of which had to do
with a wood nymph.  Susie smiled vaguely and answered in one word
questions.  Carla was obviously relieved when the men returned.

     They had wine with dinner and brandy afterwards, too much to
drink maybe because Susie sat like a lump, a washout, maybe a dumb
house-wife, she thought.  The booze gave her a headache and when
they got home she took sleeping pills and zonked out.  During the
night she thought she felt Brian stick it into her but she was not
sure.

     In the morning she came alive.  Alive, yes, skipping and
singing as soon as Brian had left for work, by nine o'clock
finished tidying up, and dancing to the back lawn and across it to
the latticework gate and through to the shadowy back porch of the
house Brian called a Gothic horror.

     In the kitchen she heard the twanging of a ukulele.

     "Rita!" she called.

     "Sweet Susie!  Come in, do you know the tune of Aloha Ohee?"

     Susie hurried in, found her friend wearing a white-on-red
sarong, her body voluptuously swaying through a hip-tossing hula
as she strummed a ukulele held at her waist.  Her bare breasts
rolled and swung, and so did a lei of fresh red and white flowers
about her neck.

     Delighted, Susie clapped her hands, and in that moment knew
the key to this house.  It was joy, unselfish, undemanding,
shared.

     How unlike the jungle warfare of Brian and Clayton!

     Susie ran to Rita and gave the ritual kiss on the mouth and
in it, her tongue weaving about Rita's almost in hula rhythm.

     Then Rita laughed and said, "So, my wood-nymph darling,
you're back.  To the wardrobe?"

     "Oh yes!" Susie cried and arm-in-arm they swung into the hall
to the roomful of costumes where Susie snatched her mesh-like blue
garment from a hanger and began undressing.

     Rita, strumming her ukulele, said, "Phil told me how big you
and he made it."

     Blushing, Susie nodded.  "He's sweet."

     "His mood was so high that this morning, when his old boss
phoned and asked him to do a special repair job on a business
machine, he accepted.  You certainly snapped him out of his fag-
fear mood."

     Susie paused in unhitching her bra.  "Then he's not here?"
she asked, disappointed.

     "No, but Howard, my husband, is, and dying to meet you.  So's
everyone, after how Phil talked.  By the way, he took this job in
part to raise money to buy you something."

     "Goodness!" Susie said.  "A gift?  But I'm married  goodness,
it makes a mixup, doesn't it?  And Willa, what would she say?"

     "Nothing nice.  She mother-hens Phil.  She's rather a brassy
creature.  Punch her in the stomach, show her you won't take any
crap and she'll be a doll."

     "Goodness, I couldn't punch anybody," Susie said, hanging up
her bra and then pushing down her panties hurriedly, eager to get
into her wood-nymph costume.

     Rita, smiling at her, said, "You are indeed a luscious thing,
Susie.  You make my pussy fairly quiver."  Then abruptly she put
down the ukulele, gave a yank at the sarong knot on her hip,
stripped off the garment and came stark naked into Susie's arms.

     The meeting of soft breast and belly flesh, a cushiony
merging, flowing together, heated Susie to the toes, and eagerly
she hugged her friend, found her mouth, kissed her.

     Like that, tongues lolling over each other, nipples growing
lustily  Susie could not be sure which pair of the four nipples
indenting the warm breast cushions were hers  bellies squashing
snugly, pubic hair brushing thighs, they twined arms about each
other's backs, hugging tighter, pulsing on a shared heartbeat.

     Susie recalled her puzzlement yesterday about her apparent
lesbian streak.  Right now it seemed pure affection, love for
dear, generous Rita, who had so wholeheartedly welcomed her to
this strange menage called the Pageant, the Zoo, Howard's Horny
Haven.

     She said, while kissing and sucking Rita's creamy soft lips,
"But I should do something here, help out.  Pay my way."

     "If you wish.  You'll find work here, but first, you're
becoming a sister to all of us and that's what counts.  We're all
family, you see."  Then she nuzzled Susie's throat and whispered,
"Darling, I so want to make love to you.  But I have chores to
finish.  Would you meet me in the swing room in an hour?"

     "Oh, yes!" Susie cried.

     "Until then, go upstairs and find Howard in his workshop.
And shortly Gwen will start her yoga session  you might join her."

     Rita pushed away, grabbed her ukulele and sarong.

     But before leaving she came and bent to Susie's breast,
kissed each swollen nipple.

     Then she was gone, leaving Susie with tears of joy in her
eyes, fingering the hardened tips of her breasts.

     Wearing her diaphanous blue tunic, one breast exposed, she
went to the rooms where she had found such pleasure yesterday, to
the swing room to greet the canary and the parakeet, to the
library, empty now.  She gazed fondly at the foot-stools where she
and Phil had sat, he wearing pink panties.  The thought of him
wearing them, stretched to a tent by his erection, made her
giggle.  She also got a vaginal spasm from it, stood there
pressing her pussy, remembering how she had climbed onto the horny
tower of his prick.

     Like wow!

     Returning to the hall she found a stairway up, steep, with a
hand-worn broad wooden banister.  As she climbed she suppressed an
urge to straddle the banister and slide down on her unclothed
pussy.

     What's happened to me? she thought.

     Wondering, she continued on, tugging lightly at her exposed
nipple, not sure why she was doing it except that it felt good.
But she would have to meet Howard with a swollen breast tip.
Well, teasing the stiff, rubbery peg did seem to fit the house,
and she continued as she glanced into three bedrooms before she
came to a small room where she heard a light metallic clattering,
like a small tool dropped.

     She looked in, saw a man with a huge, piratical black
mustache standing at a work bench.  He was tall and lean and wore
a sarong, blue with orange flowers, maybe the one Rita had had on
yesterday.  From one ear hung a huge circlet of gold.  The lobe
was definitely pierced.

     Dark eyes flashed at Susie.  "Ah!" he cried.  "Me lovely wood
nymph, the sunshine girl!  I'm Howard."

     Susie smiled and went to him, mouth open to receive the
ritual kiss.  She got it good, a hard, long tongue in her mouth
while a large hand cupped her buttock and brought her to him.

     Then they parted, studying each other.  The front of his
sarong bulged out.  Goodness, had he erected that fast?

     He said, "Have a seat, Susie.  I'll be done creating in a
moment."

     He pointed to a high, kitchen-type stool with a back.  Susie
climbed onto it and perched there watching Howard sandpaper what
looked like a plastic tube.  Facing him was a punch board from
which hung dozens of small tools, pliers and drills and
screwdrivers.  The room had some shelves containing books on
woodworking, electricity, metal crafts, plastics.  And one shelf
was cluttered with objects of most odd appearance.  One was two
plastic penises fitted together back to back.  Susie blushed.  A
dildo!  Several of the objects, she thought, had penile forms.

     Howard said, "Phil told me so much about you, I'm surprised
he didn't say how pretty your tits are.  I guess he's an ass man,
when you come right down to it."

     He said this without looking at her, still sandpapering the
plastic.

     Susie did not know how to answer, so she just sat there
blushing.

     He said, "Phil and Rita and I talked about your big clit,
Susie.  I mean, the idea turned us on so I started thinking, what
can I do about it."

     Susie bit her lip, annoyed.  Phil and she had discussed it
while making love, quite another thing from Howard's clinical
approach.

     She said, "It's really kind of personal."

     He paused in his work, frowned.  "Susie, your attitude is
negative, like being ashamed of something ugly.  But Phil says
it's a cute little horny thing about an inch long and as slick as
a whistle.  You got to be proud of what you are, flaunt your big
clit and try to make it bigger yet, a heroic clit, a colossal
clitoris."

     "Bigger?" she gasped.

     "Hopefully.  Here, my gift to you."  He turned and handed her
the object he had been sanding smooth.

     It was a plastic tube about four inches long with a rubber
bulb on one end.  The other end was flared like the bell of a
trumpet.

     "It's a clit sucker," Howard said.

     Susie gaped at the thing in her hand.  At last she said, "I
don't  I mean it's for masturbating, isn't it?  But I don't  not
very often  "

     The lie deepened her blush, and Howard was staring at her
exposed right breast and licking his lips, and a tent had formed
in his sarong.  With a doctor she might handle the gadget without
too much humiliation, but now she wished for a blanket to hide
herself from head to toe.

     Howard said mildly, "Rita and I are big on masturbation.
Sometimes we just sit and watch each other do it, or maybe she
jerks me off while I twiddle her pussy.  The urge to just stick
cock into cunt can be a cover-up, an avoidance of understanding
the partner's sexuality.  We also think we should masturbate
alone, to come to terms with ourselves."

     "Wow," Susie said.  She could feel her clit swelling, eager
to be inserted in the bell mouth of the clit sucker, but not here,
goodness no!

     He said, "You make me horny, Susie, and if I pull my wick
it's a compliment to your sexiness.  Right?"

     As he spoke he drew aside the flap of his sarong, revealing a
long, dark penis like a club standing out of his pubic ruff.  He
grasped it with his right hand and kneaded it, making the swollen
head rise up and seem to writhe in pain.

     It looked rather like her husband's cock, she thought, and
his testicles appeared as bulgy-heavy, although overall, Howard
was nowhere near Brian's hulking dimensions.

     He began pulling it.  Gazing at it, she gulped, looked down
to the instrument in her hand.  She felt decidedly uncomfortable.

     She said, "Howard, it's awfully thoughtful of you to make
this for me, but I'd want to try it out in private.  See, I'm not
as used to nakedness and such as you people are."

     He nodded understanding.  "That's what Rita said.  Maybe you
and she could experiment with the gadget.  Though I'm eager to
learn if it works properly."

     He meant now.  She watched him knead and pull his organ,
noted how on each stroke he lifted his scrotum, then let it tumble
back between his legs with his testicles jostling against each
other and against his thighs.  She had never seen a guy work his
tool.  But shortly her unease ebbed and she studied the action,
fascinated, beginning to see the point of his argument that shared
masturbation could be most instructive.  Absorbed in watching she
did not react to his hinted desire to see the clit sucker
function.

     She murmured, "Howard, you have a rather large penis, it
seems to me, and you must be proud of it."

     "Yes, but Rita says that Phil's does her just as well,
because of the elasticity of cunts.  That is, she can use whatever
she gets, but more important the center of female ecstasy is the
clit, and how much it gets squeezed and pulled during fucking is
what brings orgasm.  If I screw her from behind she often twiddles
her clit at the same time."

     "Goodness," Susie said, becoming quite interested in the
conversation.  She had always thought her clit was the key to her
cums, though men seemed to think in vaginal terms.  Maybe she had
thought that way because of being oversized, but apparently she
had been on the right track.  And now she spoke her thoughts
without quite realizing that she was giving voice.  "I never had
anything as good as Phil's thing inside me, and it's not big, so I
thought  but really it's because Phil is so sweet  maybe his
wearing a girl's panties helped  and I was riding him, which of
course squeezed my clit  well, what do you think, Howard?"

     "Most important, you like Phil."

     "And he had been terribly upset.  I knew I was pleasing him."

     Without pausing in pulling his prick, Howard stepped close to
her and reached to her bare right breast.  She watched his hand
cup on it, felt the light squeeze as a pleasant caress.  She did
not protest, partly because he was dear Rita's husband, and too he
was showing himself as a friend, which in this house made
extraordinary intimacies seem natural.

     Her breast cap had swollen and his nipple tugs made her
breathe hard but Susie did not wish to extend this sex play beyond
watching him masturbate and enjoying the tittie massage.  She had
agreed to go sexy with his wife in the swing room, and Rita
lingered in her mind.

     She said, "I think I'll do as you said, try out my gadget
with Rita.  Thank you so much for making it for me, Howard."

     "As Gwen would say, that's my karma.  My God-ordained bag."

     He released her breast and stepped back to the bench, draping
the sarong over his swollen organ.

     Susie slipped off the kitchen stool and went to the doorway.
Howard's smile looked sheepish, she thought, as though he had been
rebuffed.

     She did not want him to feel hurt.

     She hurried back and gave him a wet kiss and a squeeze, then
left blowing him a kiss goodbye.

     When she reached the stairway and touched the hard-smoothed
banister she again felt the urge to straddle it and slide down on
her pussy.

     But if someone saw her  

     Anyhow, she was all excited about trying the clit sucker, so
she ran down the stairs to the swing room.







                            Chapter 7

     The canary was twittering and a wealth of new blooms perfumed
the swing room.  Susie closed the door and darted to the chest of
drawers, opened the one containing the jijis and chose one
somewhat larger than yesterday's, this one colored robin's egg
blue.

     She climbed onto the swing and glanced at her image in the
door mirror, saw her face flush with excitement and the bare
breast Howard had massaged looking swollen, with its cap enlarged
to a livid cone.  She tucked the skirt of her tunic up into the
waist and spread her legs.  Her hair-fringed split glistened with
vaginal dew, and the mouth had opened eager to receive the jiji.

     She poked the little egg into it, fingered it out of sight,
paused with a finger inside her, gazing at the mirror, thinking,
Susie, there you sit with your legs spread and a finger up your
love hole, aren't you ashamed?  Why aren't you blushing?

     In her other hand she held the clit sucker, Howard's gift.
Howard stroking her bare boob while he pulled his cock!  How
intently she had stared at the horny organ, watching each stroke
lift his loaded scrotum!  It had been a revelation.  Perhaps she
had ducked out of further intimacies to contemplate the display of
male genitals.  How complex!  Never again could she think of a
penis as simply a ramming cylinder.

     Now she took Howard's handiwork, examined the bell end, then
the small rubber bulb.  She brought it down to her split and
dipped the bell into the juiciness of the vaginal mouth, then slid
it up to her limp clit.

     She thought, Goodness, it will be like stuffing a worm
through a keyhole!

     But her clit came to her aid, arousing excitedly as the
instrument touched it, lifting to a feeble half-loop.  She
wriggled the bell mouth to it, expelling air from the bulb,
screwed around until the tip of her clit appeared seated in the
narrowness of the tube, and released the bulb.

     Negative pressure sucked the bit of glistening pink noodle
right in, stretching it, a voluptuous tug that made Susie rise off
the swing seat, gasping.

     Oo-oo!  What a delicious pull!

     The expanding bulb continued drawing until the tube was
clogged, tightly sealed by an inch or even more of hardening pink
clitoris.

     Staring wide-eyed at it, she experimented, pressing and
releasing the bulb very lightly.  There was no escape of air, just
a series of gentle, teasing sucks.  Her swelling clit could not
grow sidewise, so it lengthened until she filled almost two inches
of the tube.

     For some minutes she experimented with the gadget, until she
had gotten the hang of it.

     By then she felt hot all over.  She began to swing.

     She was panting.  On fire.  The jiji began its insane,
unheard lopsided clicking, utterly at variance with the pulsing
tugs of the clit sucker, like two cums ignoring each other, each
seizing her attention, making her choke, then each again caught
unawares by the ecstatic thrill of the other.

     Then ribbons of fire grew, winding about her belly,
interlacing, merging like octopus tentacles writhing together,
melting to flowing rivers of roiling steam.

     Susie heard herself cry out, "I'm cumming, wow what a cum!"

     In the mirror her exposed breast had gone pink, orgasm
inflaming her entire torso.  The way she was screwing about on the
swing seat made that tit lurch and dip, wobble and toss in a
frenzy.  The cum broke with a burst like a wave crashing on a
beach, and Susie's moans of pleasure silenced even the twittering
canary.

     There on the swing she had no more doubts about the fact of
multiple female orgasms.  She learned to coordinate the rocking
jiji and the clit sucker, letting the off-beat clicking ball
bearings heat her, then working the bulb to pull her off the edge.

     She was nearly exhausted when the mirror-backed door opened
and Rita entered.

     Susie smiled, shaped a kiss for dear Rita while gazing at her
big tits, watching her unknot the sarong and remove it, exposing
the lyre-like curves of her hips, the huge dark pubic bush.

     Rita gazed smilingly at the rubber-capped plastic gadget, but
made no comment.  She simply sat on the swing beside Susie,
gathering her close, tongue-kissing her so deeply and excitingly
that Susie released her grip on the rubber bulb.  She did not lose
it, however, for suction held it there, stretching her clit as it
dangled between her legs.

     No words, just sucking Rita's tongue while the clicking jiji
swam in her frothy love hole.  She fondled Rita's breast, rubbing
a swollen nipple.

     She did not know what impulse led her to stroke down the
girl's soft belly, fingers trembling in anticipation as they
furrowed into the fluffiness of her bush and down between spread
legs, pressing into squishy pussy.

     As she caressed it she thought, Well, Susie, if you're
lesbian then you just are lesbian, drift with it, and goodness
what big, plump lips Rita has, how terribly exciting to squeeze
and press and tug playfully at them!

     Then Rita murmured, "Darling, I'm taking you to the couch."

     Somehow they were off the swing, standing.  The clit sucker
hung there until Rita squeezed it hard enough to break the
suction.

     Susie stood smiling, eyes hooded with lust.

     Her tunic was removed, and naked they went to the couch where
she followed Rita's direction and laid down on her side.  To her
surprise Rita dropped down facing in the opposite direction, and
with a start Susie realized what was about to occur.

     "Raise a leg, darling wood nymph," Rita murmured.  "I'm going
to lap your pussy."

     Gape-mouthed with astonishment, Susie obeyed.

     The wet suction, a hundred times more voluptuous than the
plastic gadget had been, seemed to bloat Susie's clitoris until it
filled Rita's mouth.

     There was a pull.

     Crying out, Susie knew Rita was trying to gobble her entire
vulva, hairy lips and all.

     Before her loomed the great gleaming dark muff of Rita's
pussy hair.

     As she watched, a leg cocked up and she saw the dewy hair
between, fringing the carmine wetness of her cunt.

     Susie moved to it, impelled not by a desire to please her
friend but by primal lust.  Her nostrils were twitching at the
strong odor of pussy.  She palmed the satiny inner thigh, brushed
her nose through mound hair.  The odor made her quiver all over.
She licked her lips and gazed at Rita's dark clit, a mere nubbin
compared to her own.

     Then her hole, a round, wet red mouth.

     Nearer, into musky heat, she was suddenly closing her lips on
clit and giving a suck.

     Rita's whole body spasmed and down between her legs Susie
felt tongue dart up her hole.

     Rita's pussy was overcast with a rosy hue now, and Susie knew
a cum was right there, oh yes, exploding as Rita almost swallowed
clit and Susie bored into wet pussy, tonguing wildly.  I'm eating
pussy, she told herself.  I'm lapping cunt.

     My whole face is into it and I'm laughing, crying, exploding
as cum wrenches my belly.  But my tongue is cumming too as it
washes Rita's clit and flags at her hot, slippery labia, even
ventures into her hole.

     Here I am between a girl's legs, embracing her hips and
thighs, our bodies squeezed together, tits melting into bellies,
and I love it!

     I'm so hot I don't know where I am!

     But what I am, that I know, I'm a cunt-lapping lesbian with a
cum shooting sparks and firing off roman candles, gushing juices
all over Rita's face and the couch, oh God I'll soak the whole
thing.

     Don't stop lapping, Rita.  Don't ever stop!



                            Chapter 8

     Susie lay there exhausted, her head on Rita's thigh, feeling
a fingertip toy with her clit.

     She did not know how many times she had cum.  She was worn
out, limp, though her clit did not know it, the horny little
thing!

     Then the mirror-backed door opened and Howard came in smoking
a pipe.  He still wore his sarong, but the front now hung straight
down.

     Rita raised up and looked at him.  She was wiping juice from
her mouth.

     He said, "I'm itching to know how my invention turned out."

     Rita told him, "Susie says wonderful but my lips and tongue
are better."

     He shrugged.  "I didn't intend competing.  You know my
viewpoint, that masturbation is its own good thing, an easy
extension of fantasy."

     Rita rose, rearranging them until she was sitting, Susie's
head on her lap, from which cushion Susie gazed at Howard and saw
the front of his sarong begin to tent out.

     He laid his pipe on the chest of drawers and came to the
couch, gazing at Susie's crotch.  Her legs were sprawled apart.
She lacked the strength to close them, though she was not sure she
wanted to.

     "Fascinating," he murmured.  "Quite a clitoris!"

     "I adore it," Rita said.

     "Beautiful," Howard went on.  "I've just been reading up on
the subject.  It occurs in about one woman in five hundred,
clitoris giganticus, a minor mutation of the genes.  You never
hear about it because most women are embarrassed and keep it
secret."

     He bent down between Susie's legs and tweaked the hot little
spike.  Susie made no protest.  Indeed, she was quite overwhelmed
by the strangeness of this married couple, he accepting Rita's
lesbianism, she smiling as he touched another woman's clit;
astonished, silent.

     Gazing at it, Howard slipped a hand under his sarong and
massaged his erection.

     Rita said, "Howard, you're overdressed."

     He grinned.  "Out of uniform, huh?"  He untied his sarong and
cast it away, revealing his fully extended penis, swollen straight
out from his pubic nest.

     The head, flared out like a cobra's hood, seemed to Susie a
monster thing.

     Rita was cradling Susie's head in the crook of her arm,
raising her face to the huge swell of a tit.

     She murmured, "Sweetheart, darling, Howard is so terribly
horny.  Just look at him!  Would you like it?  If you don't, I
most certainly will."

     Speechless, Susie swallowed hard.

     Rita said, "In fact, I think you need it, to prove that cunt-
lapping isn't everything."

     Susie still could not speak, but gazing at the distended
flesh of Howard's penis she felt a livening in her belly, a
squishy pulsing.

     Like the mouth of her love hole was doing those fish-lip
sucks, blinking at him.

     Howard knelt between her legs.

     Rita, still holding her white hemisphere of dark-capped
breast, leaned toward him, reaching for the horny prong.

     Susie felt a cuntal wrench, like a hard swallow, and with
that she said, "I guess  it feels like  I need something  inside
me  "

     Howard came over her and Rita grasped his stem.  He lowered
himself into the spread of Susie's legs, guided by his wife's
hand, and when the purplish knob of his cock had descended below
her pussy bush and out of sight Rita nudged it to the right and
Susie felt the spongy mass slide into her hole.

     In with a swish, into a channel so loose that there was
nothing to make him hesitate, just sliding up her until he was
fully socketed, and she, feeling his first hot throb, gave a yelp
and arched up, screwing herself at his loins.

     She had strength in her legs then, she lifted them and hooked
her ankles on Howard's back.

     She began humping, groaning as she squeezed her gaping pussy
at his loins, and pulled her vagina through long, milking
squeezes.

     He cried, "You're sizzling in there, Susie!"

     "I'm going to cum," Susie croaked.  "Oh gosh, Rita, I cum all
the time, my cunt is so hot I don't know what to do with it!"

     Rita laughed.  "Just fuck, darling.  Fuck hard!"

     Susie buried her face in Rita's breast, groaning, finding a
nipple and sucking at it.

     She saw Howard come down far enough to kiss his wife.

     So she licked and sucked the growing nipple, watched them
tongue-kiss, and felt her insides roar on the horny cock that
impaled her.

     She felt a wave of guilt.  Here she was enjoying Howard's
cock inside her just as she had Phil's.  But her husband called
her frigid!

     Oh, it was shameful, this trio, she sucking Rita's breast
while clenching her legs on the flanks of the woman's husband,
seeing the big cock lift out of her cunt, dripping juices, then
slide back in with a whispering sound.  Her openness, her gushing
vaginal fluids, they were animalistic, like her grunts of feral
pleasure!

     Howard was kissing down Rita's arm, finding her other breast,
wolfing it into his mouth.

     And Rita cried, "Oh my darlings, suck hard, suck my tits!
I'm going to cum from tit-sucking, oh-hh, don't stop, suck and
pull!"

     Susie gobbled fiercely at nipple and areola while wrenching
through a cum, a hot bloating that made her vagina feel as big as
a football, then shrinking down, stripping Howard's hard cock as
though to squeeze it to a ribbon.

     The spasm of heat blinded her, and she guessed that for a
second she had passed out.

     Then Howard was roaring.

     He had begun to buck rigidly, ass jerking as his cock flew in
and out.

     Rita was moaning, her hips jerking, moving the couch as much
as were Howard's lunges.

     "Suck!" she groaned.  "Darlings, suck my TITS!"

     Then Howard bored in.

     He grunted hoarsely as he screwed his cock around.  It felt
as big as an arm and clenched fist to Susie until her cunt did one
of those expansion things, swelling hugely, gaping as though to
take in his testicles along with his penis, and she shrieked as
another cum started.

     Howard drew back, paused, then plunged in firing.

     She felt the dollops of hot milks spatter her cuntal cavern.

     She was passing out.  Her mouth slipped from Rita's tit end.

     Her swelling vagina stopped growing and fell in on itself,
quivering as little gulps of flesh sucked in his creamy discharge.

     His fucking became more violent.  Her legs had fallen from
him and she lay sprawled, limp, a mere hole now for him to ream.

     Hot stuff was running down her ass.

     He blasted again, again.  Each time the heavy jism came
striking like lead.

     Her final cum took everything away, all feeling and strength,
and Susie, smiling, collapsed and let the world go away wherever
it wished.

     At midafternoon a bewildered and dazed Susie found herself in
the bathroom of her own house, squatting on the john, slipping the
nozzle of her douche up her vagina.

     She squeezed the bulb.  Warm water washed sex juices
spattering down into the bowl.

     She had slept for hours in the swing room.  Awakening,
finding no one about, she had taken her tunic to the wardrobe,
slipped into her dress and staggered home.

     Washed clean she rose, put the douche in the medicine cabinet
and gazed at herself in the mirror.  Her eyes were hooded, smiling
at their secrets.  Her lower lip, pink and moist, pouted
provocatively.  She got a comb and whipped it through her hair
until it fluffed, a tawniness with sunshine in it, and there was
high color in her cheeks.  You look so pretty, Susie, she thought.

     She had brought her bra and panties home in a wad, wore only
this yellow summer dress with button shoulders.  On impulse she
unbuttoned the right shoulder, folded the material down under
exposing her right breast the way her wood-nymph tunic did.  Her
breast cap looked still a bit puffed.  She rubbed it to conical
protrusion, powder-pink and luscious looking.  What a nice tit!

     Her gaze fell on the clit sucker on the sink.

     She picked it up, frowning, and went thoughtfully out of the
bathroom, hiking up her skirt and rubbing an itch in her pussy.

     In the kitchen she popped a coke, took it to the living room
and flopped down on the couch.  There she wound her skirt up to
her waist and as she drank she toyed with her clit.  When it had
firmed she wetted the plastic bell in pussy juice and by expelling
air from the rubber bulb she sucked her clit right into the tube.

     She shivered with pleasure as the horny little spike gave a
throb.

     Slowly she squeezed, gently released the bulb, watched the
pink growth ooze up the tube.

     Then she fingered her bare tittie, milking out the nipple,
thinking how she had called masturbation self-abuse.  All changed!
A matter of viewpoint.  This let her wallow in thoughts of the
house next door, humping to meet Howard's powerful fuck thrusts,
licking into the livid split of Rita's pussy; her hand in Phil's
pink panties, massaging his cock and balls.  But there was
something else, a burgeoning pride in her clit, which Howard
called one in five hundred.

     Maybe, using the clit sucker, she could make it grow bigger.

     What a turnabout, after a lifetime of shame over the dangling
morsel of erectile flesh that her pussy hair did not always
conceal!

     She glanced up at the wall mirror, then moved down the couch
to face it directly.  She raised her feet to the couch, heeled it
while spreading her legs wide, and gazed at the split between her
legs, like a vertical smile edged with brownish hair.

     She dropped the clit sucker to see if it would remain there,
held by partial vacuum.  It clung, all right.  She switched her
hips, watched the rubber-bulbed tube flail about her pussy lips.

     She giggled.

     Then, laughing at her mirror image, she fisted the bulb and
languorously worked it, pulling her clit through a voluptuous cum.

     In the mirror her vaginal mouth, a glistening coral oval,
sucked in on itself.

     Brian, she thought, if you could see your wife now!

     Did Brian really see her at all?

     That evening he seemed bemused, no drinking before supper
except for a beer while he worked on some papers in his den.  He
was going to ruin Clayton, he said, by reorganizing the man's
department in such fashion that it would be under his, Brian's,
thumb.  But later in the evening he phoned Clayton, and laughed
boisterously while talking of office things Susie did not
understand.

     Sometimes he whispered into the phone, and she guessed this
was to conceal something she would understand, and it had to be
women.

     She thought, wives should work at their husbands' offices!
How else can they share?

     But maybe Brian was more pig-headed than most, more involved
in those strange, man-type struggles, in which he stuck knives in
Clayton's back while both laughed, about their clawing, throat-
biting contest for supremacy.

     Between phone calls to Clayton, Brian watched the ball game.

     And Susie, gazing at his broad face, felt forced away to the
world that she had begun to develop from what she had available,
the entrancing house next door where Gwen did yoga exercises naked
unto her shaven crotch, and Howard had invented the clit sucker,
and Rita played Hawaiian ukulele, and where maybe Susie had
dispersed Phil's worries about his homosexuality.

     These two days had been full of firsts, fucking with men in
defiance of her wifely vows, going down on pussy, and masturbating
with joy instead of shame.

     One first remained, sucking cock.

     Tomorrow?







                            Chapter 9

     In the morning Susie rushed through her housework, then got
her clit sucker and hurried next door.  On the kitchen porch she
called out for Rita.  There was no reply until a rather distant
voice said her name.

     She entered, heard Gwen call from the yoga room, "Rita's gone
shopping.  Come join me, Susie."

     "I'll change first," Susie told her, went to the wardrobe and
put on her blue tunic.  The day was hot, and the feel of the airy
material delighted her.  In this weather she could of course go
naked, but the gossamer garment satisfied her feminine desire for
adornment, while provocatively exposing one breast.  And the
short, loose skirt let air wash over her pussy, a rather sensual
tease.  Panties, she had decided, let odors gather, and barred
penile intrusion.  Down with panties!

     The tunic lacked pockets, however, and she was afraid of
losing her clit sucker.  But on a shelf she found some balls of
yarn.  She took a length of red yarn, knotted it about the gadget,
and tied this about her waist under the tunic.  Thus prepared, she
set out.

     She found Gwen wearing a canary yellow turban and the red dot
of paint in the middle of her forehead, sitting in the straight-
backed, cross-legged lotus position.

     Susie bent down and kissed her, pausing to savor the sweet
slipperiness of Gwen's lips and tongue.

     Gwen asked, "Are you ready for your first lesson, Susie?"

     "Oh, yes!"

     "Then sit beside me.  The position is difficult at first but
you will eventually find the three-point balance the most restful
thing imaginable."

     Susie sat, crossing her legs, then with great difficulty
prying one foot up over the other.  This locked her, forcing her
thighs to spread out wide, and drawing her pussy open.

     "Back straight, wrists on knees, thumb and forefinger making
circles," Gwen said in a soft, dreamy voice.

     It hurt.  It hurt all over, but Susie gritted her teeth and
hung on.

     "Now you will learn to breathe," Gwen said.  "Slowly in,
slowly out.  Study every breath you take.  You will not think,
just breathe."

     After a few minutes of this mechanical breathing, Susie found
that she had relaxed considerably.  Sitting straight-backed was
oddly relaxing.

     Gwen said then, "Yoga is the triumph of mind over flesh.  To
show you, first take the wall poster, the male god with the
enormous cock.  Gaze at it.  Reduce the phallus in your mind to a
size that would fit inside you.  If it goes well you will be able
to feel it in your vagina."

     Susie tried.  Staring at the monstrous organ, which stood up
to the god's shoulders, she pictured Howard's lusty prick in its
place, then Phil's standing up out of those pink panties he had
worn.  The column of cock seemed to recede in her vision,
traveling away, returning with a rush toward her, then racing off.
Her legs and back hurt, her arms ached, and her intertwined feet
were agony.  But a glance at Gwen, back straight and breasts
protruding like grapefruit, so beautiful in her stiff repose,
spurred her to further efforts.

     And she did feel something in her belly, an imagined shape
that in a vaporous way seemed to fill her vagina.

     It seemed hours later that Gwen said, "Enough, Susie.  We'll
go at it several times a day and in a week you will tremble with
eagerness when about to assume the lotus position."

     Susie uncoiled with difficulty, feeling absolutely broken.
Groaning, she knelt facing Gwen.

     Gwen asked, "Did you succeed in diminishing the god's
phallus?"

     "Well, it went away and came back, like.  And I did feel
something strange inside me.  It wasn't very firm."

     "Good!  You've made a nice start.  Now let me show you what
control I have achieved."

     She reached down off the platform to her left, brought back a
product of Howard's workshop, a full-sized stiff cock made of
creamy plastic.  Gwen brought this instrument to her shaven pussy,
and Susie gasped with astonishment on seeing that the mouth of her
vagina was opening, forming a red circle as the head of the gadget
neared it.

     She tucked the head in and rested the shank on her feet, then
returned her hands to the thumb-and-forefinger circle pose on her
knees.

     Gwen said, "My objective is perfect control of my vaginal
sphincter.  Watch."

     The girl's belly tensed and her crotch seemed to tremble.

     The phallus was moving in tiny jerks.  Cuntal lips seemed to
reach out for it.  The instrument tilted, quivered, advanced as
though pushing into Gwen's cunt.

     She was sucking it in!

     She had drawn a good four inches of stem up her hole.

     Then, holding it there, she said calmly, "I can of course
masturbate on it, even without clitoral stimulation.  I have a
long way to go but I can already bring myself through ten or
twelve orgasms on a man's single ejaculation.  My present goal is
fifteen, about one a minute."

     "Wow!" Susie gasped.

     "The more I do, the prouder I am of my cunt.  I have shaved
it to show my pride.  As a girl I suffered penis envy.  My
brothers were a proddy bunch of brutes who kept pushing me aside.
I thought their pricks made them powerful, that somehow I had been
mutilated, having only a slit between my legs.  But through yoga I
have learned to milk out a cock in less than a minute, when I
choose to, or to keep my lover erect for a full hour."

     As she spoke the phallus continued its advance into her
vagina.  Only an inch remained outside.

     She said, "Susie, I have heard about your big clit.  Please
don't hide it.  Be proud.  Display it!  Love it!  It is you, and
you are all you have."

     "Well, see, it's not really huge.  I have to press my lips
open for anybody to see it.  When it's soft it sort of curls up
into my notch."

     "Shaving would help."

     Susie gulped.  What would Brian say if he found her pussy
hair shaved off?

     Gwen's eyes had closed.  The protruding end of the phallus
was bobbing.  Her breathing became shallow.  A blush colored her
throat and cheeks, then spread down over those grapefruit breasts
and her nipples spiked out.

     Susie watched her belly suck in, then bulge out, a movement
in rhythm with the bobbing of the phallus end.

     Susie had read fantastic stories of the Indian love
disciplines, just as Gwen had spoken of.  But it was not fantasy,
for she had just seen a cunt suck a cock-like gadget right in,
having had a grip on only the head.  And the red ring of cuntal
mouth still gulped at it and squeezed inward.  Simply amazing!

     Susie thought, Could I learn to do this?

     She cried, "Gwen, you will teach me, won't you?"

     The girl, red-faced, appeared to be cumming, yet she smiled
and said with a fairly even voice, "A woman's power is between her
legs.  We learn to love our cunts through display and
masturbation.  Show me your clit, Susie."

     Still kneeling, Susie spread her legs and drew up her skirt.
She pressed her pussy lips but her clit was already in view, a
horny pink length.

     Gwen murmured, "When you have gotten into yoga I am sure you
will want to shave the hair off so it can be seen like a drop of
pale blood sneaking out of your lips.  Why don't you pull it?  We
can cum together.  Take your time, my control is quite good."

     Hearing this, Susie unhitched her plastic and rubber gadget,
and, expelling air from the bulb, wetted the trumpet-bell end and
capped it on her clit.

     She was becoming handier.  Susie caught the nubbin in
negative pressure and drew it out a full inch or more into the
tube.

     "It is beautiful," Gwen sighed.  "I envy you that long pink
thing!"

     Pleased with herself, Susie worked the bulb rapidly, tugging
and pushing the swollen clit, seeing it advance ever higher in the
tube, and feeling it as an ecstatic pounding that fairly made her
blood boil.  Shave?  Why not?  Gazing at Gwen's open cut, seeing
the livid bump of her clit, the gaping inner lips, the ring of her
hole sucking at the phallus, she thought it beautiful through the
pride of Gwen's attitude toward it and tried to picture her own
vulva shaven, her vertical mouth smiling redly at the world.

     It was a little scary, but she was panting now, about to cum,
and everything seemed possible.

     She felt vaginal drool run out of her and down her legs.

     Then she was off, crying out, "Now Gwen, oh my cum is
bursting!"

     The other smiled and nodded, still red-faced, saying, "Very
well, I'll let go too."

     The phallus was given a violent tug, another, then tilted up
as Gwen's belly pulled in deep.

     "Ah-hh!" she groaned, eyes closing, looking upward as her
body, still in straight-backed triangular-balanced lotus seat,
began quivering.

     Susie's tongue lashed frantically at her fevered lips.  As
that big, hot bubble filled her belly she squeezed frantically at
the bulb and stretched her clit out until she thought it would
tear away.

     The explosion made her shriek through the ecstasy of the
orgasm.

     Gwen was smiling, gazing placidly at the ceiling despite the
tremors racking her body.

                          *     *     *

     In the swing room Susie faced the big mirror, raised her
skirt and studied the fluffy triangle of her pubic hair.  She
liked it.  She thought it adorned her belly and pussy lips; all
that brownish furriness!  Her clit, still erect, peeked out.
Without the hair it would look almost like a little finger.  But
she did wish she could try shaving, see what it was like, let the
hair grow back in if she did not care for smooth pussy flesh.

     She tied the clit sucker into the strand of yarn about her
waist and started upstairs to introduce herself to Gwen's husband,
Nick.  Gwen had said he was at work in the art room.

     She eyed the banister, caressed its smoothness, and abruptly
realized why she had had the urge to slide down it on her pussy.
Because of the horses.  When she was twelve her parents had sent
her after school to a riding academy.  Horse-back riding was
strictly snob, she had learned.  Some parents said it kept young
girls too busy to chase boys.  But Susie had quickly learned the
truth, that it was instant masturbation.  She had hated horses but
loved rubbing her pussy on the saddle.  She soon learned that most
of the girls at the academy had gotten their first cums from
saddles.  At the time she had been too ashamed of masturbating to
finger her clit so she had stuck with horses after other girls had
quit.  She got a couple of cums during each half hour riding
lesson, even with the instructor near at hand.

     She would indeed like to mount the banister, but certainly it
could not match her plastic and rubber gadget.  Besides, she
wanted to meet Nick.

     She passed Howard's workshop.  Gwen had said he was out
selling insurance today.  On the north side of the house,
naturally, she found the art room.  She knew about north light,
which casts no shadows, from her high school art classes.

     The room had a tilted drafting desk, a large table along one
wall, an easel, and a man on hands and knees on the floor,
painting on large sheets of paper.  At first glance he appeared
naked.  At least his hairy ass was, and that was the part aimed at
Susie.  But then she saw the white elastic bands, and the white
bulge between his legs.

     He was wearing an athlete's jock strap.  Hearing her, he
looked up, and Susie saw a curly dark beard, a small nose, blue
eyes behind glasses, the whole shaded by the brim of a baseball
cap.

     "Ah!" he cried.  "Susie, the wood nymph!"

     He sprang to his feet.  He was stocky, short of leg, with a
burly chest thickly furred with black hair.  The crotch bulge of
his jock strap looked simply giant, as though stuffed with much
more than genitals.

     He grinned.  He had smallish, even, very white teeth and rosy
lips that looked small within the mass of his beard and mustache.

     He reached out a hand and shook Susie's, then gave the ritual
kiss.  She found herself pulled up against him.  Chest hair
tickled her bare breast and the horny thrust of his tongue fairly
took her breath away.

     The embrace was brief.  He stepped aside, still holding her
hand, and pointed at the layout on the floor  a sheet of stiff
paper about four by six feet on which was sketched a design of
baseball bats, catchers' mitts and running figures, all held
together by diamond shapes that she saw were baseball fields.

     He said, "Wallpaper design for a boy's room.  I sell designs
to a manufacturer, see?"

     She nodded.  She also noted that baseball equipment was
strewn about the room, a bat, a spiked shoe, a pair of striped
pants.

     Nick explained, "We all use the wardrobe costumes for
different reasons.  This morning I dressed like a ball player,
down to the jock strap, but it got too hot."

     She glanced down at the remnant of his costume, the jock
strap, and wondered again at the huge bulge.

     He thrust a hand at the wall to her left.  "That is what I do
for fun.  The wallpaper is bread and butter."

     She saw a row of watercolor sketches, the nude Gwen in lotus
seat, a saronged Rita, and a bosomy redhead dressed in strings of
beads, bracelets, bangles, ear and toe rings, otherwise naked.
That had to be Willa, whom Susie had not met.

     She thought the sketches delightful and said, "I'll pose any
time you want, Nick."

     "First I have to study you, can't do a model from scratch.
Anyway, right now I have to finish this design.  An awful lot of
poster paint has to be splashed on."

     "Could I help?  I took art in high school."

     "Would you?  Really?  God, you are a treasure indeed, Susie!"

     He was so pleased that he gave her a hug and another kiss,
and this time squeezed her bare tittie.

     His hand was strong but gentle, and she was a bit sorry when
he quit fondling her breast and they went to work.



                            Chapter 10

     On hands and knees, Susie began paying back the kindnesses
extended her in this strange house.

     She knew how to handle poster paint without splattering it
all over.  She need only take care in filling in the color blocks
indicated by Nick's outlines.  He worked more rapidly but she
found a certain deftness returning to her fingers, and happily
painted for an hour almost without speaking.

     "Sweaty goddam jockstrap," Nick swore.

     Without pausing in her work, chewing her tongue in
concentration, Susie said, "Well, take it off."

     "Stink like a locker room."

     "I don't mind," she said.

     She could have added that a woman might even like the smell
of hot male genitals, but just having thought it shocked her.
Goodness, imagine me, a married woman, even thinking I could turn
on to the sweaty smell of a man I've just met!

     Nick took her at her word, rose and began peeling down the
elastic apparatus.  She could not help looking, and oh, goodness,
that huge hair ruff, and now popping into view a soft but immense
organ, fat and long, and the plumpest of testicles in a dark,
hairy sac.  She stared at the bulky cock and the strong odor of
male musk made her nostrils quiver with excitement.

     Nick said, "Thanks, Susie.  I'm damn glad to get rid of it."

     He kicked out of the elastics, left the thing on the floor
and returned to work.

     Susie could see his cock dangling down along his hairy thigh,
way down.

     She bit her lip and turned away.  Susie worked feverishly to
hide her excitement.

     Her brush flew.  Sometimes Nick's brush crossed hers to
correct a line but more often he grunted approval.  He got them
some cushions to kneel on, though Susie had not minded the
soreness of her knees.  The productive work thrilled her almost as
much as the presence of this brawny naked man with his curly black
beard and fogged glasses and baseball cap.

     But the heat increased and sweat ran down her arms.  She saw
that the windows were only partly open.  She got up and raised
them, then thought, No use staining my wood-nymph tunic with
sweat, and removed it.  Wearing only the strand of yarn about her
waist, from which the clit sucker hung, she returned to work.

     Kneeling doggie-style over the design, she was aware that her
breasts hung out, saw Nick slip glances at them, especially when
she had to reach to the paint bowl and they swung.  She knew that
some men liked seeing titties dangle in this fashion, Brian for
one.  Was she turning Nick on?  His cock remained limp, though it
seemed longer, flopping about as he moved.

     She saw the baseball bats in the design as cocks, the
diamonds gaping cunts.

     The lightest of breezes seeped in the windows, washed about
them mingling their body odors.  His strong male odor made her
gasp but the smell of hot, wet pussy was equally pronounced.  It
was open.  She could feel the breeze oozing up her vagina.  She
thought, What is happening to me?  Years of repressed sexuality
have piled up to a crushing weight that has to burst out, and if
Nick right now got hard and climbed on me from behind, rammed his
cock up my hole, I know I would grunt like a pig and switch my ass
about, screwing my vagina onto it.

     But he is Gwen's husband.

     Well, here that does not seem to matter.  At least, Rita had
urged Howard to fuck her, and as to the thing with Phil, no one
objected.  Besides, Gwen told me to come see Nick a couple of
hours ago.  Gwen, should I  should Nick and I  

     Her inner thighs were wet.  Sweat, or pussy juice?  Oh,
goodness!

     They had worked from the edges of the design toward the
middle, and now their hands sometimes touched as they painted.

     "Almost done," Nick murmured.  "Susie, you are damn good at
this.  We could make money on designs, do one in a morning instead
of me breaking my ass to finish late at night.  Are you tired?"

     "Yes."  She straightened, sat back on her heels, rubbing
sweat from her face.  She put down the brush and fisted her hand.
The bones hurt from cramping on the brush.  "But I'll get used to
it.  Nick, do you really think I could pay my way, filling in your
designs?"

     "Sure.  And like my dad used to say, two men can do three
times what one can.  Men?  Hell.  A guy and a broad can do even
better."

     Feeling pleased enough to hug him, she tried to wipe sweat
off her titties.  The nipples had stiffened, though whether from
her pleasure in achievement or from horniness for Nick she could
not guess.

     Then, gazing at their work, she said with a laugh, "Nick,
those baseball bats look phallic."

     "Hell, the whole game is sexually symbolic.  The pitcher
throws a testicle, the batter whacks it with his cock, the fielder
takes it into a glove that's a cuntal pocket and gives with it,
very female.  Call it sadistic, if you want.  Male aggression.
Baseball designs always sell."

     She laughed at this.  Men always took things so seriously.
She had a hunch that baseball was also just a game, even if Nick
were right.

     They returned to painting.

     They were on the last diamond when Nick said, "Susie, you
have luscious tits."

     A blush burned her face.

     She slipped a glance at his cock and saw that it had
enlarged.  The base of the stem, just out of his ruff, had
hardened enough that the remainder of the dangling organ hung
clear of his scrotal sac.

     His words triggered something in her.  She became intensely
aware of the odor of her hot pussy, of the sweat streaming from
her armpits.

     Her breast points were throbbing.  She tried to straighten,
bringing an arm protectively to her titties; the old Susie
reacting.  But the new Susie rubbed her palm and wrist over the
nipples, felt them stiffen out like little fingers.

     She avoided Nick's gaze but her glance kept slipping to his
thickening cock.

     Abruptly he rose.  "You finish the last diamond.  I'll go get
us some tea."

     His swelling prick slapped his thighs as he left the room.

     Susie caressed her tit ends, so hot they hurt now.  Kneeling,
she could see her erected clit, a pink, glistening nubbin pushing
up through her pussy hair.

     She gave a wrenching groan and returned to work.  Her hand
was shaking.  Biting her lip, she controlled the shakes well
enough to apply the color, then cleaned her hands and waited, her
eyes shut.

     She could feel vaginal tremors racing in and out of her.  She
tweaked her clit, twiddled the slippery length, thought of using
the clit sucker on it to get a cum, relieve the tension, but then
she heard Nick coming up the hall and she had to fight back tears.
She was twitching all over, going to pieces!

     Entering with two steaming bamboo cups, he said, "Gwen's
happy with how it's worked out."

     She thought desperately, The work?  Or the way my cunt drools
for you, Nick?

     He squatted on his heels, facing her.  The stiffness had
extended somewhat from his pubic ruff but inches of fat cock still
dangled.

     He had not been circumcised, she saw.  Only a button of
pinkish cockhead showed through the encircling foreskin, which was
extremely dark.

     She took the cup in both trembling hands.  The first sip
scalded her lips.  But she got the taste and odor, all right.
Kashmir Karma.

     Narcotic and aphrodisiac, Rita had said.

     Thus she knelt facing the squatting Nick, feeling the heat of
her breast ends, swollen fully to those cone shapes of nipple and
areola, aware that her erect clit was tingling, her cunt and
vagina sloshy hot.

     He murmured, "I have an order for some textile designs, too.
We'll be busy."

     She burned her throat finishing the tea.

     But the slight pain for a moment took her attention from her
unbearable sexual heat.

     Then she reached for it.

     She could not help this.  She acted not on impulse, but from
terrible urgency.

     She closed her hand on the fat bulk of Nick's cock.

     Tears streamed down her cheeks.

     She blurted, "Nick, about Gwen  "

     He, sipping tea, watching her clutching his prick, said, "Oh,
Gwen's very fond of you.  She said to have fun."

     It was so hot, that massive bulge in her hand, the heat
flowing up her arm.  She put down her bamboo cup and brought the
other hand to his scrotum, paused on feeling the weight of his
testicles, afraid she might squeeze too hard and hurt him.  Then
she raised them, joggled them in her palm.  They spilled off, too
much of a handful.

     The end of his prick still fattened, but was not yet stiff.

     Swallowing hard, she choked out the words, "Why isn't it
hard?"

     "It's slow," he said, grinning.  "But it lasts forever."

     She bent down to see that dime-sized pink tip of the head,
still snugly held by foreskin.  She tried to thumb back the skin
but it seemed too tight.  Close now, the smell came like fire in
her nostrils, making her choke, tremble, want to scream out her
urgency.

     Get hard! a voice within her shrieked.

     The split in that pink tip was yearning as she pressed back
the skin.  She saw a pearly drop of lubricant tremble, about to
spill.

     She wanted that.

     Inches from it, on fire, she could no longer resist.

     She wetted her lips and thrust down, bringing the fisted head
to her mouth.

     She sucked the pearly drop right out of the split.

     "Ugh-hh!" Nick groaned.  "Hey, Susie, that's like crazy
making!"

     Never had she kissed a cock.  But she found her tongue
licking the circle of foreskin, rubbery compared to the slickness
of the head, trying to pry it away, pushing it while her fist drew
back.

     She exposed a little more of the succulent, slippery pink
flesh.  Only a little!

     Nick, still squatting, was caressing the back of her neck.

     He said in a strained voice, "Susie honey, take a mouthful of
it!"

     She had let his nuts fall, held the looping fat cock in both
hands as she flicked her tongue at the recalcitrant rim of skin.

     He cried, "That's too much tease!  Susie, give me head.  Suck
it!"

     She scarcely knew what she was doing now, lipping and
tonguing, squeezing and pulling the stem of it, moaning with
excitement while tears welled in her eyes, her whole body shaking
uncontrollably.

     It was too big, she could not get it in.  She stretched her
jaw and felt the voluptuously soft, slick tip in the trough of her
tongue.

     Then her teeth were riding over the flare of it, abruptly
past the rim.

     His cockhead was in her mouth.

     She thought, Oh God, I'm sucking a cock.  I have my mouth
full of man meat, I'm licking it and smelling his crotch odor, I
should die of shame!

     But she pushed more in, and sucked her lips fast on the
shank.

     "Take more, Susie, more!" he groaned.







                            Chapter 11

     Susie gazed at the cylinder of flesh protruding from her
mouth, at the huge black nest of pubic hair from which it grew.

     Calm down, she told herself.  It's done.  You have a mouthful
of cock.  Suck it gently.  Oh, the exciting taste, the texture,
the sponginess of the head, the exquisite slipperiness of that
protruding split circle!

     She found herself bobbing on it with each slow suck.

     She wondered if she could peel back the foreskin with her
teeth.

     She tongued it out, pressed her teeth to the ring of skin,
and with her hands forced the hot meat back into her mouth.

     Yes!  More slippery flesh was exposed to the wash of her
tongue.  She continued forcing it.  The bulk in her hands was
firmer, much firmer.

     Suddenly, with a pop, the skin cleared the rim of the head
and she sucked fast on bare head, slippery and hot and huge.

     She cried out with delight.

     Slipping off it she said, "Nick, I did it, I skinned it
back!"

     Nick was sitting now.  As she closed her yawning mouth on the
succulent head, Nick fell back until he lay on the hard floor with
his legs sprawled wide.

     Down between his hairy legs Susie sucked and licked.  Choking
on it, she drew off and rested her jaw by licking down the shank,
laying suck kisses on it, nibbling every exciting bit of flesh
until she nuzzled his scrotum.  She pressed it to her face,
rolling his nuts about her cheeks while licking the kid-soft skin.

     Then, daringly, she forced a testicle into her mouth.

     "Great, great!" Nick grunted.

     She rolled the plum-fat egg on her tongue, sucked, licked
circles around it.

     His cock stood against her cheek like a burning staff, the
slippery head at her forehead.  She tongued out the testicle,
began nibbling her way up the shank, gasping as she neared the
naked red head.

     She licked the rim, but the taste of its lubricant juice made
her ravenous and she capped it with her yawning mouth, took it to
her throat and sucked as she jerked up and down.

     So fat a blob, so succulent!  She loved it!

     But Nick groaned, "Susie, you'll suck me off, you keep that
up!  Listen honey, I want to fuck you!  Baby, come on, let's
fuck!"

     Susie did not surrender her mouthful.  I want to suck it off!
she thought.  I want to feel his load shoot into my throat!

     But the quivering gulps, the liquid torment of her cunt,
could not be denied.

     She gave his cock a last lingering suck, then levered up and
climbed over him, over the prodigious rise of his column of cock,
and knelt with her knees beside his ribs.

     She looked down underneath, between her hung-out tits to her
wet-haired pussy hovering above the naked, shining knob of his
organ.

     She could see her clit horning out of its notch, and the red
lining of her cunt, even the gaping darkness of her vaginal mouth.

     She lowered, quickly, surely, knowing her desperately hungry
love hole would find the meat it needed to fill it.  She saw her
hairy pussy lips surround the livid cockhead.

     Then she felt it like an apple lodged in her opening,
enormous, yet so slippery that as she pressed down it slid right
up the curve of her vagina, throbbing all the way.  Her bush
neared his pubes.  A couple of inches of cockstem remained
revealed.  She squeezed her sphincter in, gasped as it closed on
the firm meat.  Nick arched up, trying to reach the end of her
hole, but she, in a frolicsome mood, now that she had the
certainty of cock inside her, rose and watched her juices run down
his shaft.

     Nick was pulling her nipples.  She rocked on his prick,
screwed about, and as her nipples caught fire she felt the first
big cum ripple down her vagina.

     "My cum," she panted.  "Wow, I'm cumming, Nick."

     "For Chrissakes, sit on me, take it all, baby!"

     Her sphincter was fluttering as she lowered, squeezing every
inch of his shank.

     At last she pressed her open cunt to his hairy loins, rubbed
her enormously extended clit, squeezed inside, and gave a shriek
as she went wild.

     "Ah-hh, Nick!  I'm off, burning, oh Nick, I'm cumming,
cumming, Nick I'm CUMMING!"

     He, pulling her tits, humping at her fuckhole, was grinning.

     "Let it go, honey," he cried.  "Let it all go!"

     Her vagina and flattened-out pussy lips felt like a great
funnel filled with jelly, squashing loudly as she slid and
squirmed on him.  Her squashed clit, enormous, seemed the size of
a cock.  Everything had become unreal, her sloshing cavern was
like a bucket and in her frenzy she could imagine Nick sticking
his head into it.

     Oh, the noises, the belches and squirts and loud sucks, her
shrieks and moans and Nick's laughter, a torrent of sound, a
waterfall as she writhed on the fat, stiff cock that impaled her
belly!

     He, holding her breast caps, was slapping her titties
together.

     With the final, crashing explosion she raised up until the
head of his organ quivered in the funnel mouth of her cunt, bathed
in its gushing juices.

     Then she fell, dropped with cock spearing up her vagina, over
the peak as she filled, squirmed her open pussy lips on his loins
once more, shivered violently, and collapsed.

     She flopped down, breasts spilling onto his hairy chest, and
panted into his beard.

     Hanging above him but distant, on the far edge of
consciousness, she heard Nick say that he had shared some of
Gwen's yoga experiences.  He had learned some of the erotic
mysteries of India, how to keep a stony hard on for long periods,
like the night he had satisfied both Rita and Gwen on a single
ejaculation.  Left both limp, smiling ecstatically as they rubbed
their sore pussies.

     Was he bragging?

     Anyhow, his prick remained like an iron bar inside Susie's
drooling vaginal sleeve.

     Maybe she slept.  It all seemed very fuzzy.

     Then he was nibbling her ear and whispering, "Do you want
another cum?"

     She found his mouth in its thicket of curly beard and slowly
licked his lips, saying, "I'm just a flab, a heap of hot woman
sprawled on you.  No bones."

     "I'll start you off."

     His cock began throbbing, twitching.  He did not seem to move
his hips, but something happened, a stirring in her gaping cuntal
cavern.

     Exhausted, she could only slide her tongue into his mouth and
kiss him deeply while her belly seemed to open ever wider about
the cock-pulses.

     But her position was awkward.  Her legs felt cramped.  She
pushed up and sat straight, bringing her legs up until she heeled
his armpits.

     She no longer had leverage.  But just sitting, feeling the
tantalizing little movements of his organ reeve her hole brought
her back to life, and soon she found the strength to tighten her
sphincter on the root of his prick.

     Squeezing the bony shaft, she grunted with pleasure, not just
from the thrills that ripped about her cunt, but from pride that
she could so quickly resume fucking.  To lighten the burden of her
weight on his loins she reached back and placed her hands on the
floor, braced her arms and lifted in short jogs, rubbing her
insides on his now-bent cock.

     She murmured, "Gwen talked about a dozen cums.  Do you think
I could learn such control?"

     "Oh, the Hindu sex disciplines can help anybody.  But Susie,
you have something Gwen hasn't, the wettest cunt I've ever fucked.
There's so much goosh on your ass and my groin and legs that you
could slide right off."

     She giggled.  "No way.  I have a foot of cock skewering me,
nailed into me."

     "I don't know.  Your hole's like jelly.  I think if you made
the wrong move you'd slip right off and slide up my chest and give
me a faceful of pussy."

     She was laughing now and thinking, Gosh, here's Mrs. Brian
Fenner, me, laughing over fucking instead of cringing in fear or
hurting inside from dryness like rust when Brian jams it into me!
Maybe the answer is I'm not Mrs. Brian Fenner, I'm Susie who
helped Nick paint the baseball wallpaper design  gosh I'm proud of
that  and I'm glad he likes fucking me.  I'm also pleased that I
can walk around this nutty house wearing my wood-nymph tunic with
one tit bare, without shame!

     So here I sit with my heels in Nick's arm-pits, full of hard
cock, arms back, hands on the floor bracketing his knees, looking
upward with my titties slanting away to each side.

     Happy Susie!

     She rotated her hips, circling in his erection, sighing as it
stirred her vaginal cavern.

     So fucking good!

     But she wanted to see Nick's face.  She moved up, drew her
legs back, managed to kneel again without slipping off his prick.

     She reached to his chest, curled her finger into a tuft of
black hair, and pulled.

     He was grinning at her.

     Her breast tips felt awfully hot.  She rubbed a hand over the
swollen caps.

     Nick said, "I like seeing a broad pull her nipples.  You want
to?"

     She smiled.  "What you want is what you get, Nick," and she
clustered her fingertips on her jutting pegs, tugged them out.
Seething!  The heat flowed right down to her crotch, and her clit
gave a throb.  She rubbed herself squashily on him while bending
and tweaking her nips.

     He said, "I'd like to see your clit sucker in action, Susie."

     She had almost forgotten the plastic tube with the rubber
bulb, hanging from the strand of yarn about her waist.

     Pulling harder at her titties, she said, "I don't really need
the gadget like this, when I can rub my cunt on you."  Then a wave
of heat popped in her belly and she choked, "Nick, I'm getting
another cum."

     "Still, I'd like to see how it works."

     Rocking on him, panting now as her vagina ran rippling up and
down his stem, she gave in, untied the plastic tube and rose
enough to get a good view of her fiery clit prong, capped it with
the plastic bell, squeezed air from the bulb and then released it
as she gently pushed the bell down.

     She let out a choking moan as the pull on her clit triggered
the orgasm.  Her entire vagina was convulsing!

     Frantically she jerked on the towering cock while drawing
more and more clit into the tube.  God, how much  two inches of
it?  Am I stretching the horny thing?  Is it growing?  Oh, it
feels so terribly good, bursting with heat, my titties on fire,
bouncing around as I jerk and toss on my cuntful of meat, my face
flaming, mouth dry, eyes bulging, oh, I'm cumming, cumming!

     "Nick!" she shrieked, "I'm sucking it, eating it, oh goodness
what my hole is doing!"

     And he, laughing, said, "That clit sucker is Howard's
greatest invention.  Jesus but you have a lot of clitoris there,
Susie!"

     "Don't you like it?" she cried.

     "Hell, I want to suck it!"

     Maybe the thought of squatting over his face and seeing his
lips and tongue open in his beard, hungry for the pink morsel
protruding from her quite different beard, knocked her over the
edge.

     A sort of wet bonfire exploded inside her, and this cum
flipped Susie right out of her mind, off to dreamland, though she
suspected that she did not pause in squeezing the bulb or bobbing
up and down on Nick's cock.



                            Chapter 12

     She came to on the floor, sprawled out like a rag doll.

     When the art room had spun into focus she found Nick
fingering her clit, and finally licking it.  She gazed down her
body at the bearded man facing her in reversed position,
apparently engrossed in his study of her jutting organ.

     Surprisingly, it had not wilted.  It stuck out sharply, a
pinkness against the red of his tongue.

     Before her loomed his massive dark cock, shiny with her
juices.

     She gazed at it while Nick lipped her clitoris and began a
slow sucking.

     She was clearly worn out, had fucked to exhaustion.  Why did
his sucks feel so good?

     His cock gave a hearty twitch.

     She remembered sucking it, thinking she wanted to drink his
load.  There it was, waiting.  And his sucking felt just lovely,
maybe a tapering off from the violence of orgasm, certainly not
the beginning of a new one, of course not!  A woman had only so
much strength.

     She reached to the fat prick and fingered it.  Slick.
Dripping.  Gee, Nick had said hers was the wettest cunt he had
ever fucked, and Brian had found her dry, so the answer was plain.
Well!  The shaft seemed too slippery to hold.  She inched nearer,
deciding she must at least taste it.

     She circled the rim of the head with her tongue.

     The thing twitched.  It leaped away from her, right out of
her fingers.

     She could not hold it still until she reduced the amount of
cunt juice, so she squirmed to it, mouth yawning, and forced it
in, stretching her jaw, got the rim past her teeth, and gave a
good, hard suck.

     Down in her pussy, Nick let out a cry.

     She caught up his slippery scrotum, and by curling her other
hand about the shank and pressing the two together, got fair
control of the twitching, throbbing prick.

     She had it now.  She sucked slowly, sweetly.  Nick's thigh
jacked up toward her.  She rested her head on it while licking and
mouthing his meat.

     The suction on her clit changed, became more even, and she
realized that Nick was using the gadget on her while his mouth
explored the slobbered jelly-flesh of her cunt.  The swabbing of
his tongue was a steady caressing that calmed rather than excited
her.  She raised a leg, cocked it up to give him easy access to
her cunt, and smiled contentedly while lazily licking his cock and
giving it little fish-mouth sucks.

     She could smell his male musk strongly but the odor of pussy
dominated, making her think of lapping dear Rita's cunt.  Probably
she would be more excited right now if Nick had been fucking Rita
than sniffing her own pussy flow, but she smiled with pleasure as
she looked down the dark cock protruding from her mouth, sniffed
her own crotch odor, fingered juices up the stem and painted them
on her lips.

     Quite apart from her, way down there between her legs, Nick
was busy with his own things, right now curling his tongue around
the mouth of her vagina.

     If Brian could see this sixty-nine coupling, his wife's lips
forming a smile around the artist's cockstem!

     She slipped off it, then with her teeth gently nibbled the
tip.

     "Hey!" Nick gasped.  "You'll drive me crazy!"

     Grinning, she nibbled some more.  She began rolling his
testicles about and with her left fist kneading and pulling his
stem, abruptly filled her mouth and sucked hard at the slippery
knob.

     And Nick gasped, "Hey, now that's cock-sucking!

     His cunt-lapping, she thought, was delightful, beginning to
heat her, but more important was her new-found ability to tease
and excite Nick, a profound satisfaction that made her want to
prolong her oral sex play.  But then it changed.  The iron-cored
plushy blob in her mouth twitched violently, throbbed, shoved to
her throat.

     He groaned, "My load is coming, baby, take it!"

     She knew a moment's fear.  But she wanted it, and sucked
harder, bobbing on the skewering prick.  It seemed to swell and a
fever swept her body, starting not from her cunt, though spasms
rippled into her in response to his tonguing, but from her mouth
and lashing tongue.

     "Shooting off!" he gasped.

     And it came fountaining, heavy blobs spattering her throat,
hot and thick.  She gulped it down, took a fresh blast, could not
swallow it all but clung grimly, determined to get every drop.
Her mouth filled and it dribbled down her lips.  She fingered it
back in, swallowed.

     She had taken all but a few dribbles and suckered off panting
for breath when her own cum peaked and she squished her cunt
against his bearded face.

     "Ah-hh!" she cried, "my cum is so hot!"

     He was mouthing her clit, pulling it out to an enormous
burning length.

     Then it all spilled out of her, a torrent of fire, her vision
a roil of flame.

     Moaning, panting, she had to wait through the wrenching
release until she could again mouth his twitching cock and suck
out the last drops of jism.

     When Brian returned from work that evening, Susie had supper
in the oven and was wearing a fresh summer dress and carefully
applied makeup.  She sipped a cocktail and gazed narrowly at him.
She felt composed, even triumphant.  Nick had just phoned and said
he had sold the baseball-wall-paper design and the buyer wanted
more.  Tomorrow they would do a football design.  That had
thrilled her almost as much as the passion in Nick's voice, his
choking, straining lust for her.

     Brian entered tearing off his shirt, swearing, "This fucking
heat, traffic jam on the highway.  Sweating like a pig!"

     He stormed through the kitchen toward the bathroom, dropping
his shirt on the floor.

     In the hall he said, "Got to see Clayton about the new
billing system."

     Susie sipped her drink.  Then she moved to the shirt and
stepped on it.  She carefully wiped the soles of her sandals on
it, then sauntered after him.  She felt as cool as a cucumber,
powdered and sweet smelling.  Chin high, she walked with a sensual
roll of her hips and felt her pussy lips squish together, not hot
but wet and open.  She wore no panties and guessed that in strong
light her pussy hair could be seen through the dress; she would
welcome that.  She felt all woman, strong, autonomous, ready to
spit in the eye of anybody who crossed her.

     In the bathroom Brian had turned on the shower and was
kicking out of his undershorts.  Susie stood in the doorway eyeing
him, that splendid football player's body, the long, fat cock and
loaded scrotum.  A shame, she thought.  I'd like such a body
mounting me, such a cock slipping up my hole.  If Brian were Nick,
or Howard or Phil.

     He ducked into the shower, said, "After supper we'll go to
Clayton's, get this billing system cleared up before the ball game
starts on TV."

     His pants hung over the toilet, his undershirt was beneath
the sink, and his shorts were on the shower ledge, getting
spattered.

     Susie sipped her drink.

     Brian paused in soaping his crotch.  "Hey, you going to leave
my clothes there?  Looks like a pigpen."

     Susie said, slowly and evenly, "Pick up your own fucking
clothes!"

     She turned away, and with a saucy wag of her ass strode
toward the kitchen to freshen her drink.

     Brian had cleaned up the mess he had left without remarking
on the incident but during supper he gave her some puzzled looks.

     At least he's noticed I'm alive, Susie thought.

     She had a very strong urge to take the gravy boat and break
it over his head.

     But her thoughts kept drifting to tomorrow's football design,
wondering what sort of pattern Nick would dream up, and her
reverie was interrupted by vaginal twitches or maybe gurgles,
anticipating a certain fuck before they started work.

     They rode in silence to Clayton's house, a pleasant, modern
ranch that Susie guessed had cost about the same as their own.
But Clayton had a surprise in the back yard  a great yawning oval
in the lawn and pyramids of fresh earth.  He was putting in a pool
"big enough for a real swim!"

     Brian's teeth ground in envy.  Oh, he did not show it.  He
was all smiles and congratulations, but Susie saw the angrily-
working muscles in his jaw.

     The men went in to work on the billing system, leaving Susie
with Carla Clayton, who looked awfully luscious tonight in a
yellow dress cut low on her plump breasts.  Her chestnut hair
gleamed.  But she was scowling.

     "Those two!" she said.  Then, "Oh, I shouldn't complain.
I'll have a pool, won't I?  You can come afternoons and swim with
me.  Like two rich bitches!"

     True, Susie thought.  The pool would be no dinky cheap thing,
and yes, they would feel spoiled.  However, she felt sure
Clayton's pool was not to please Carla but to spite Brian.

     Susie murmured, "And when the TV ball game starts, we're
supposed to watch it and enjoy it."

     "I hate baseball!" Carla gritted.

     "Don't you have another TV down in the rec room?"

     Carla, clearly in a rebellious mood, grinned and seized
Susie's hand, rushed her to the kitchen to make drinks, then to
the cellar rec room where they curled up on an old couch facing
the TV.

     Carla turned on the set but Susie scarcely saw it.  She was
studying the girl, her milky complexion, her pouting, rosy lower
lip, the thrust of her breasts.  Carla's skirt had hiked up,
revealing sleek, full thighs, and Susie began to feel warm
stirrings in her belly.

     Abruptly Carla said, "I wonder if they both hump Brian's
secretary!  Some of the hints from office people  I mean, gang
bang!  One watches, waiting  "

     "Your sex life isn't too great?"

     "When Clayton is done with work, the ball game over, and he's
finished his latest mystery novel, then I get laid."

     Musing on it, Susie realized that the house next door to hers
had indeed relieved her of anger, of spite, of resentment.  She
patted Carla's hand, comfortingly.  It felt pleasantly soft and
warm.  Their fingers twined together.

     She said, "The pricks think they're so necessary to us that
we'll put up with anything.  But I'll tell you, Carla, I can make
my own living and loving, too."

     Carla sighed.

     "But all the men I meet are from their office, and they stick
together  I couldn't even be unfaithful  "

     "Women."

     Carla laughed.  "Susie, you're kidding!"

     Susie moved closer, whispered, "I've learned the truth.  What
counts is affection and need."

     "You mean you could  with a woman  "

     "I have.  And loved it."  She could not explain about Kashmir
Karma tea and swinging with the jiji inside, did not want to, for
that belonged to her.  But she whispered, "A woman knows just
where to touch, and how, until you're panting and squirming and
just love it!"

     Carla was blushing.

     Susie said, "Like this."  She raised a hand to Carla's
breasts, and with a fingertip drew a slow, feather-light circle
around one crown.  Carla was gazing wide-eyed at her.  She made
the next circle smaller, and even through bra and dress felt a
hardening of the girl's nipple.  Slowly, teasingly, she circled
until it pegged out, a visible protrusion in Carla's dress.

     Carla's jaw fell as she stared at the growing knob, then at
Susie.  Her eyes went round and Susie saw a reflection of herself
when Rita first turned her on, except that Carla's eyes were
brown; lovely they were, the lashes thick and dark.

     Susie's fingertips left the nipple, trailed upward to the
bare white slope of her breast, up to her throat, knowing well
that a woman liked a caress to depart, leaving behind prickling
flesh, rather than to insist, to worry a nipple until it was
irritated, as men did.

     "Susie, I can't believe  that you  "

     Susie did not answer.  Belief did not matter.  Sensation did.

     And Carla was feeling the tease all about her throat, up her
cheeks, over sensitive ear lobes, around the nape of her neck,
then ever so slowly down the mound of the other breast, over her
dress front to a nipple that rose in anticipation and was partly
firmed when Susie's palm lightly rubbed it, back and forth,
circled, left it and stroked the near one.

     Carla swallowed hard.  "I feel all tickly."

     Leaning closer, Susie whispered, "Close your eyes.  Let it
happen to you."

     "I'm afraid, Susie!"

     "Afraid of what?  I'm not a man.  I can't rape you.  I'm not
bigger or stronger.  You can stop me with a word."

     Carla did close her eyes to avoid Susie's gaze, though she
remained tense.

     Susie resumed the stroking, starting now on Carla wrists,
into the palms of her hands, out her fingers, up her softly
rounded arms.  The feel of the girl's flesh inflamed her and she
was full of missionary zeal.  Susie urgently needed to teach what
she had learned these past two days.  How Carla's nipples were
growing!  Thick, protruding until the dress material about them
tented.  Her breasts were moving jerkily as her breathing grew
shallow.

     Susie bent to them and brushed her lips over a white mound.

     Carla choked, "But  Susie  it's perverted!"

     Kissing the hollow of the girl's throat, Susie murmured, "Men
say that to keep us from finding out how good it is."

     Her lips moved up to Carla's chin, which she kissed tenderly,
then to Carla's velvety cheeks, the most teasing of brushing lip
movements.

     Carla stiffened, fighting it.

     Susie drew back cautiously, for a moment did not touch her.

     Carla licked her lips.  She was still breathing hard.

     Then she whispered, "Susie, it feels like you  care  about
me.  Not like a person who's horny who just wants to get into my
panties."

     Susie raised the girl's hand to her mouth and kissed the
palm, judging that sufficient answer.

     As she kissed the hand it rose, fingers touching tentatively
at her cheeks, then the palm caressing, moving to her hair and
stroking it.

     Carla murmured, "Your cheek is so soft, your hair silky.  I
like touching it."

     Slim fingers furrowed Susie's hair to the nape of her neck,
where they clung as Susie leaned to her and brushed her lips over
Carla's closed eyes.

     Susie whispered, "Would you like me to kiss you?"

     Carla gave a shiver.  After a long pause she murmured, "I
think so."







                            Chapter 13

     Susie went at the kiss with infinite caution, first lingering
about Carla's mouth, then following these caresses with her
tongue-tip, not touching her moist red lips, which by then were
quivering.  When she at last drew a wet line between them they
parted and she felt the jerky waves of heat as the girl panted.
At last she pressed her open mouth to Carla's.

     The response came as a quivering, then a slackness, giving
space to tongue in.  Never pressing, she let it seem a sharing by
softly rolling her lips over the other's, letting her tongue-tip
dawdle a moment inside, then voluptuously smearing it over Carla's
plump and creamy-slick lower lip.

     The hand at the nape of Susie's neck tightened, drew her
closer and abruptly Carla's tongue came into her mouth.

     Then she gasped, "Susie, I love it!"

     Their mouths formed a suction then, tongues wagging together
inside, while Susie caressed the girl's breasts and Carla
squirmed.  The kiss ended with gasps, and they hugged each other,
silent as they panted for breath.

     To Susie's delight, Carla was kissing her throat in long, wet
sucks, then rubbing her cheek, her nose, under Susie's chin and
murmuring, "I love the taste and the feel of you.  Oh, Susie, what
I've missed.  It's so sweet.  And harmless.  I mean, not like
cheating on my husband.  It is harmless, isn't it?"

     "What's harmful is not loving people," Susie sighed,
caressing the girl's plump breasts.  To get at them she reached
around her girl friend and found her zipper tab, began working it
down.

     "Susie!" Carla cried.  "You must not do that.  Suppose the
men come down here?"

     "Let them.  They'll see we don't need their crap, that we're
alive and happy without them."

     "You're so bold," Carla sighed, burrowing closer and kissing
Susie's throat.  "I wouldn't dare!"

     But she let Susie zip her dress open and unhook her bra.

     "We'll show those two pricks!" Susie swore fiercely, dipping
her hands into Carla's dress, into the loose bra cups, and
cuddling her breasts into her hands.  Hot, so hot and heavy, and
the nipples long and hard, such luscious tits that Susie trembled
with excitement and, mouthing her new lover's ear, whispered
hoarsely, "I'm going to kiss your breasts, honey, lick your
nipples, I'm gonna suck them until you cum!"

     "Susie!" the girl gasped.  "I can't believe  this is
you  that I'm letting you  that I want you to  "

     "Then you can suck mine!" Susie rasped, nibbling her ear,
leaving it to kiss and lick down her throat, into the tangle of
clothing, silky dress and lace bra smelling of hot woman, lifting
a tit to her mouth and swabbing the nip with the flat of her
tongue.  The stiff rubberiness inflamed her and she nibbled it
into her mouth, then pressed open lips to the areola and sucked in
all the tit she could hold.

     Carla was choking, groaning, clutching feverishly as Susie
pulled, swung her head, pushed, rolling the big breast about.  She
sucked with piggishly loud slurps, pulled off harshly, returned
gently lipping the livid peg, a slithering tease followed by a
harsh gulp and more pulling and pushing at the white orb.

     "Susie, I've never been  sucked  like that."  Susie shifted
to the other breast and, twisting her tongue about the hardened
nipple, said, "Babe, unzip me, and unhook  "

     Carla tried.  Her fingers were trembling and she could
scarcely grip the zipper tab.  At last the zipper snicked open and
she fought at the tight bra hooks.

     Susie, in the tangle of dress and bra, fed on a succulent
breast cap until, with a jerk, she felt her bra come free.

     She had a tittie in each hand then, kissed one rosy nip and
licked the other, circled each with her tongue-tip, then raised up
still smiling and faced Carla, who, red-faced, stared at her with
wild eyes.

     Susie yanked down her own dress front and bra, said, "Caress
mine, Carla."

     The girl bit her lip.  Her shaking hands moved toward Susie's
breasts but paused and she said, "I've never touched  "

     Smiling, Susie pressed the other's hands to her titties and
contact made Carla grasp them, squeeze.  Susie kissed her and
holding each other's breasts they tongue-kissed deeply, Carla
turning on like crazy, avidly sucking Susie's tongue and moaning.

     At last she whispered, "Susie, I'm so hot.  Even in my
panties.  In my panties!"

     "Let me feel them."

     "Oh, no, you mustn't Susie, not that  you can't  "

     But Susie dropped a hand to Carla's thighs, caressing them
under her skirt, and Carla's protests faded to whimpering.

     "Spread your legs, honey," Susie whispered.

     The girl was trembling all over.  With a groan she gave in,
let Susie part her thighs and stroke the ivory flesh between, a
thrilling smoothness.  Kissing her again, Susie brushed her
fingertips up and down between knees and crotch, almost to Carla's
panties and then back down.  Finally she ventured out from between
those thighs and circled her pussy, out to her hips, across her
belly to the dimple of her navel.  The panties were cut low and
Susie's teasing fingertips walked to them but remained above the
waist elastic, stroking the soft downiness of her belly.

     Carla thighs had almost closed again.

     Susie whispered, "Spread your legs wide if you want me to
stroke your pussy."

     "But  I don't  I'm afraid  "

     Susie licked into her mouth, murmured, "Spread."

     Carla gave a shiver, a groan, then flung her legs apart.

     Susie pressed her hand into the hot dampness of Carla's panty
crotch, felt plump lips that had opened form a steamy love slot.
She squeezed the lips in and slowly massaged.

     Carla's big white breasts quivered as they rose and fell
rapidly with her fevered breathing.

     Susie was getting a hot flow up her arm from stroking that
moist and ready snatch, and her own organs were pulsing wetly.
She wanted a cum and she grasped Carla's hand, which still
squeezed one of Susie's breasts, and brought it down between her
legs.

     "Pet my pussy," she commanded, opening her legs and pressing
the hand into the hairiness of her crotch.

     Touching it, Carla reacted with a jerk away.  "Susie!  No
panties!  I touched  "

     "Of course no panties, silly.  I've had it with that crap,
that bundling myself up to keep hands out.  Now we're gonna take
yours off, then stroke each other's twat."

     "But I could never, never  "

     Carla was echoing what Susie might have said two days ago.
Patience, Susie told herself.  Slow down, fondle her, let her
catch fire.  Her pussy is already wet.  Kiss and caress until she
goes wild.

     Thus she brought Carla to her and kissed her cheek while
brushing fingertips over her swollen nipples.

     At last Carla choked, "Susie, is that the truth what you
said, that men call this perverted to keep us from finding out how
good it is?"

     "It is good, isn't it?"

     Carla swallowed hard, then nodded against her cheek.  Susie
smiled, began kissing and licking down her throat, out the hillock
of a breast to teasingly suck a nipple.  Then for the first time
she ventured lower, pushing the girl's skirt up and dropping to
the snowy roundness of her belly.  She curled her tongue-tip into
her navel, heard Carla gasp, then kissed all about it, down to her
panties.  The tangy odor of hot pussy made her pant with
excitement.  Nuzzling the elastic waist, she forced herself to
hold back while she tantalized Carla by fingering all around her
thighs and to her buttocks.

     Carla's hoarse breathing, her gasps and whimpers told Susie
the same story as the girl's squirmings, the straining of her legs
under the heating caresses, and the grinding thrusts of her hips.
Susie began rolling down her panties, kissing each inch of skin
thus exposed.  She chinned the nylon and when she felt soft mound
hair she for a moment lost herself in excitement, lifting the
panties and pushing her face into them, nostrils flaring, sucking
in the trapped aroma of the girl's seething crotch.

     Carla cried, "I can feel you breathing  between my legs  so
hot, Susie, I can't stand it  "

     Afraid of losing control, Susie withdrew.  She used both
hands to skin the panties off.  Carla helped, raising up, and
Susie thrust the panties down her legs and away.  Immediately the
lovely white thighs flung apart, exposing wet-bearded vulval lips
ovalled out from a long, broad, crimson gash.  Susie had to
struggle to keep from going down on that luscious wet split.

     She stroked the hairy outer lips, a light finger on each,
watching Carla's pussy twitch and her ass squirm about, her love
hole gaping, then puckering in.  She wanted desperately to tongue
up and suck cunt juice, but Carla must not remain passive, she
must do her share, so Susie teased until the other was moving
hard, trying to push herself at the finger caresses.

     At last Carla choked, "Please, inside  my vagina, Susie, oh
please  "

     "Yes, while you finger mine," Susie replied, and gathered the
girl to her, placing a hand between her own spread legs, smiled as
she felt Carla clutch her pussy, squeezing the hairy lips
together.

     Like that, clinging, each squeezed the other's snatch.  Susie
felt rather calm.  She had achieved her primary goal.  Carla had
not only accepted every sort of caress but was returning them,
hungrily kissing Susie's face and throat and shoulders, rubbing
their breasts together, pawing at her crotch.

     Then abruptly Carla stopped all movement, gasped, "Is that
your clit?  So big?"

     Susie nodded, smiling into her eyes.  "If you pull it, it
will get longer."

     Carla drew back to see it, held it out on a finger, her eyes
round.  "But how did it grow.  From masturbating?"

     Susie, in a mood to tease, said, "From licking and sucking."

     Carla swallowed hard.  "Really?  Susie, really?"

     Susie whispered in her ear, "Would you like yours bigger,
Carla?  Do you want head?"

     "Susie!  I'm so hot, I'm like crazy, I don't know  "

     "Ask for it, darling.  Ask me to lap your cunt."

     With that Carla went all to pieces, sobbing, "I want it, want
it, want it!"

     "What do you want?  Tell me!"

     "I want  please don't make me say it  do it!"

     Smiling, Susie bent down and placed a kiss on the girl's soft
belly.

     Slowly she lipped her way to the big, fluffy nest of pubic
hair.  She nibbled it, pressed her chin into the plump mound
beneath.

     She had a hand under Carla leg, fingers brushing in and out
of her slippery, hot split.

     She could feel the quaking torment inside, the insistent,
surging hip movements.

     She murmured, "Ask me to lap you, Carla."

     With that, Carla burst out with a frenzied, "Yes Susie,
please Susie, oh please suck my cunt!"



                            Chapter 14

     Susie slid off the couch, and on her knees she gazed into the
spread of Carla's legs at her hair-edged red slit.  Vining her
arms around the sleek firmness of the girl's thighs, she
approached slowly, breathing deeply of the hot juices, licking the
hairless, satiny thigh flesh to each side, aiming at Carla's
bulging red clit.

     Behind her, the TV set still made incoherent noises.  To her
left was the stairway up from the basement.  But none of that
mattered compared to the feast before her.

     She went in flicking her tongue, coiling it about the tiny
morsel of erectile flesh.

     It swelled under the tonguelash, and Carla cried out.
Swabbing it slowly, bending it, pushing, Susie made sure the girl
would have no second thoughts nor retreat from her request to be
lapped.  She pressed puckered lips to the nub, softly sucked it
in, and when she had it, pulled from side to side.

     "Aug-hh!" Carla cried.  "I'll cum!  You'll make me cum,
Susie!"

     Sure of herself now, Susie smiled and licked it as she said,
"Then you'll want to turn about, Carla.  You'll want to suck my
big clit, won't you, darling?"

     "No  o!  I've never  I wouldn't dream of  "

     Susie smiled, sent her tongue slithering down the grooves
between the jellied inner labia, licked the rim of Carla's vagina,
and then for her own pleasure slid her tongue up it and sucked,
sucked, drawing even the outer lips into her mouth.

     Carla went wild.

     She was thrashing about, her hips jerking.  Glancing up,
Susie saw her grab her own titties and pull, wrench them, rough
the nipples.

     Carla, you hot cunt you!  And in five minutes you'll be
sucking my clit, darling, oh yes you will!

     "My cum, oh I'm cumming, Susie, lap me, suck my cunt, please
lap and suck my CUNT!"

     Susie almost strangled on the juices spilling down her
throat.

     She stopped sucking, swallowed, rose to the fiercely swollen
clit, licked and lipped it as the girl writhed and shrieked
through orgasm.

     But Susie heard other voices.

     Rumbling male voices.  One subdued, the other a howl, a roar,
a bellow.

     She looked on the left over Carla's white thigh to the
stairway and saw their husbands standing there, Brian and Clayton
with bulging eyes fixed on the spectacle.

     The greater noise came from Brian.

     Naturally, Susie thought.  Because he sees his wife lapping
cunt.  After all, Clayton's wife is passive, just sprawled on the
couch letting a woman eat her pussy.

     Brian, it tastes delicious.  You should try it.  You've never
lapped mine, have you?  No, you're all straight man, just ram it
up her hole and shoot your load, then turn over and go to sleep.

     Because women are just cunts, aren't they, Brian?  Just house
slaves with holes conveniently located between their legs, into
which a guy can jam his cock and work off the load in his balls,
get rid of it, haul his ashes, shoot his wad.

     If only you knew how good it feels to have a tongue wagging
in that hole you make use of, Brian.

     But you wouldn't care.  Giving pleasure is unmanly.  You just
take.

     Susie heard loud voices, saw figures jerk into movement,
heard Carla's scream of anguish when she saw the two men.

     But Susie continued eating pussy until something with the
iron strength of a bear trap clamped on her hair and lifted her
away.

     "Filthy, degenerate, perverted cunt!" her husband shrieked.

     Susie was laughing.  Hysterical?

     She had known the men would find time from their billing
system and ball game to look in downstairs.  There would be a
hundred reasons for it; wanting a female slave to make them a
snack or mix drinks.

     Yes, she had done it on purpose, had used poor darling Carla,
because she had to tell Brian, had to show him that everything had
changed.

     "No wonder you're a lousy fuck!" Brian yelled.  "Because
you're lesbian, a cunt-lapping butch dyke lesbo bitch!  Because
you eat hair pie, you lap smelly cunts, you shitting degenerate
slut!"

     Susie could hear her own ringing laughter.

     She was on her knees, still held by the hair, facing his
crotch.  That protruding knob, God, did he have a hard on?  Was
mistreating a woman what got him hard?

     She heard Carla's weeping and Clayton's voice strained and
rasping, more shocked than angry.

     Brian's fingers were knotted into her hair, his grip cruelly
tight, as though to rip the hair from her scalp.

     She gazed at the bulge of his cockhead.  She grinned
wolfishly.  Her hands clawed.  Her lips drew back, baring her
teeth, and as she clawed for it she thrust in with her mouth
yawning.

     Her fingernails hooked into thigh, into half-hard meaty cock,
striking so viciously that she almost tore the material of his
pants.

     She bit the hard knob.

     Oh, she bit his pants, and his undershorts cushioned it, and
he jerked back so rapidly that she got only a nip, hardly put a
tooth on it, not the vampirish stab of fangs that she had wanted.

     But it served.  Brian cried out in pain and rage and let go
of her hair, thrusting backward.  His calves struck the couch and
he spilled onto it.

     By then Susie was gone.

     She scrambled to her feet while lunging toward the stairway,
ran with her bare titties hopping and flagging about in the tangle
of her loosened bra.  She ran laughing, barefoot, vaulting up the
stairs to the hall, out through the Clayton kitchen, out the
kitchen door, across the lawn toward Brian's car.  Our car, she
called it, my car she said, and fuck you, Brian, I hope your cock
hurts where I bit it, I hope there's blood on your pants!

     She tore open the car door and reached under the driver's
seat for the emergency key.  She snatched it out and had started
the car when Brian burst out the kitchen door.

     She let him get halfway to the car before she shoved the
shift into reverse and stamped on the gas, left the drive like a
cork out of a bottle.

     She careened out into the street yanking the wheel hard over,
arching back to the curb, a boot-legger's turn, banged into drive
as Brian came galloping down the drive.

     She sent the car roaring off while she laughed at him.

     Laughed through tears, which now gushed down her cheeks.

     She drove two blocks and pulled up for a traffic light.  She
opened the glove compartment and took out the pint of whiskey that
Brian kept there.  She bit the cap and unscrewed the bottle from
it as she drove on.  She spat out the cap and took a jolt of
straight whiskey, then stood the bottle between her legs,
snuggling it to her naked pussy.

     One breast was tangled in her bra, the other bare.  Both
jiggled as the car jarred through potholes in the street.  She
drew up for another stop light.  Next to her a car braked and she
saw two young guys looking at her.

     "Bare tits!" one of them laughed.

     She sneered at them, picked up the pint and gulped more
whiskey.

     Like that she drove home.

     Where else could she go without money, without shoes?  She
had not even a lipstick or comb.  She reeked of cunt juice.  She
licked it from her lips.

     Brian had called her a Lesbian cunt  

     Maybe her seduction of Carla had its cruel side.  But love
with a girl was not wrong just because Brian called it perverted.

     She had a third nip at the bottle as she wheeled into the
drive, and across her back lawn saw the three-story rise of the
Gothic Horror, the Pageant, the Zoo, Howard's Horny Haven, that
house of gentle sensuality, of kindness, generosity.  She got out
carrying the bottle, leaving the key in the ignition and the car
door open.  She would take the bottle as a gift.

     At the latticework gate she paused, saw that even today the
morning glories had vined higher on the wire fence.  Soon enough
they would cut off the last view from her house.

     She had another drink, thinking that she would have to be on
one side of the morning glories or the other.

     She opened the gate, went in and climbed the porch steps.
There was a light in the kitchen.  Outside the last pink of day
was fading.

     In the kitchen she heard a jingling sound, like tiny bells.

     She called, "It's Susie from next door," and went in.

     A girl was making tea.  Susie did not know her.  This had to
be Willa, Phil's girl friend, a blond much tinier than Susie would
have guessed from Nick's water color sketch.  She was wearing an
absurd collection of beads and bracelets, bangles and rings.  She
had green eyes, huge in a heart-shaped little face, a figure eel-
slim except for pouty breasts half concealed by bead necklaces.
>From a bead belt strings of beads hung over her pussy and also in
her rear cleft, leaving her plumply rounded white hips bare.  A
dozen bracelets adorned each arm and more jangled on her ankles
while her fingers and toes glittered with glass-knobbed rings.

     She said, "Susie, you've been in a fight?"

     Susie glanced at her tangled clothing.  "I won," she grinned.

     Then she went to Willa and gave her the expected tongue kiss.

     The soft wetness of the girl's mouth and the slippery vining
of her little tongue quite took Susie's breath away.  Besides
that, a hand cupped on her one completely bare breast, brushed
tantalizingly over the cap.  The caress left no doubt in Susie's
mind that Willa shared Rita's swinging view, and she responded by
caressing a round little hip and firm ass cheek, both as slick as
marble, but warm, deliciously warm.

     "Welcome to the Zoo," Willa breathed when their lips had
parted.  "Susie, you're even tastier-looking than I'd heard, even
though Phil said you gave him the hardest erection of his life.
Made me jealous, that did."

     Susie saw dark glints in the girl's green eyes and a certain
flaring of her tiny nostrils.

     "You're angry about that?" she asked.

     Willa sighed.  "Our rule is, no jealousy.  I don't own Phil.
But I have a temper.  Well, a cup of tea will settle me down.  Are
you joining us for tea?"

     "May I?"

     Willa grinned.  "Hey, girl, they'd kill me if I turned you
away.  The fight you were in  was it with your husband?"

     Susie nodded.

     Willa said, "I had a husband once, the asshole.  Well, screw
him.  Are you going to put on a costume?  Everybody's done up for
masquerade tonight."

     Susie remembered the pint of whiskey in her hand.  She set it
down beside the teapot.

     "Great," Willa said.  "I'll spike the Kashmir Karma with it."

     Susie started off toward the wardrobe.  At the door, Willa
called and she paused.

     The girl said, "I heard about your oversize clit, Susie.  I'm
more jealous of that than about your making Phil so hard."

     Susie laughed.

     Willa seemed like fun, she thought.  A bit prickly, maybe,
but full of life.

     In the wardrobe she took down her wood-nymph tunic, pressed
the soft material to her face and in its warm security thought of
the horrible moment when, sucking Carla's cunt, licking the girl
through orgasm, the men had appeared.

     How long had they been watching?

     Would Brian dare follow her here?

     I'm a worm who has turned, Brian.  And don't forget that word
worm, because my clit is sort of earthwormy, long and slick and
pink, and it's mine, it's me, and Willa is jealous of it.  I guess
it is abnormal, and I know that to you my Lesbian side seems
perverted but I have some friends who like me, Brian, who are fond
of me and horny for me.  So there.

     Susie stripped off her dress and tangled bra, hung them up
and slipped into the tunic, sighing sensually as the feathery
softness settled on her left shoulder and breast and molded to her
hips.  She went to the swing room and found a comb.  Susie preened
her hair before the mirror on the back of the door and stroked her
bare right breast, arousing the cap to its conical protuberance.
She felt kittenishly sensual.  She made a purring sound.  She
turned up her skirt and studied her pussy, the lip hair still
moist and inclined to mat.  The pink nub of her clit gleamed
through the furriness.  She thought, It's rather shaggy twat hair!
Pleasantly soft to the touch, but somewhat uneven.

     Gwen had suggested shaving it, to show off her clit and be
proud of its abnormal length.

     What would Brian think of that!

     Still combing, she went to the chest of drawers and found
some lipstick scattered among the jiji eggs.  She chose a tube,
salmon-colored, smeared her lips before the mirror and then the
cap of her exposed breast.  That made her giggle.

     Hearing voices in the library, she went there and found the
gang sitting on the floor around a low, Japanese-style table,
drinking tea from bamboo cups, Willa in her beads, Rita wearing a
sarong and leis  flower necklaces, Gwen in a silky green turban
and a diaphanous sari of saffron muslin spiraled gracefully about
her.  Nick had on his baseball cap and shorts, no need to costume,
or did his beard serve that purpose?  Howard wore a sarong like
his wife's and doubled leis, and Phil a kilt in red and black
plaid.  And what did a Scotsman wear under his kilt?  Pink nylon
panties?

     Susie was smiling broadly, her eyes misty with affection as
she kissed each of her odd friends in turn.  She had not
previously seen them all together, and they seemed terribly
strange in their clashing colors, each dressed to act out a
fantasy.

     She took a bamboo cup of Kashmir Karma spiked with Brian's
whiskey and sat watching Howard, in conversation with Willa,
stroking her thigh.  As Willa had just said, jealousy was barred,
and Rita beamed at the two of them while swinging her cup to the
beat of the rock music coming from the next room.

     Phil was sitting cross-legged, his kilt piled over his
crotch.  Was he wearing pink panties?

     What were they talking about?  The vegetable garden, the
wallpaper design Nick and Susie had painted, how Willa had just
been promoted from secretary to administrative assistant at her
office.  She would rather have a pay raise, she said.

     A half cup of tea softened Susie, broadened her smile, filled
her with a sensual glow.  Thus when she spoke to Gwen, who sat
beside her, she caressed the girl's hand and arm to gain her
attention.  And Gwen, likewise feeling no pain, returned the
gesture as she turned to Susie.

     Susie whispered, "Gwen, I want to shave it off."

     Gwen gazed down at Susie's crotch, veiled by the blue tunic
skirt.  She murmured, "If you are ready.  If you wish to flaunt
it, to show off your pussy, especially your clit."

     To be honest, Susie knew she wanted to do it as a slap in
Brian's face, a challenge, a show of independence.

     But she said, "I want to be proud of me, every inch of me!"

     "Take a minute to think it over."  Susie did, and drank down
her tea.  Then she told Gwen she was ready.

     What Susie had had in mind was simply snip snip with a
scissors, lather and razor, but Gwen did not do things that way.

     Susie found herself lying nude on the yoga platform, a
cushion under her behind.  Gwen, Rita, and Willa hovered over her,
having ordered the men to remain in the library.  Solemnly they
watched as Gwen scissored away mound hair.

     Each snip pulled the hair, tugged her crotch, and maybe it
was the effect of the tea and whiskey, but the snipping felt as
sexy as tongue-lashes in her slit.  And the girls bowed over her.
Their titties hung out.  That warmed her.  She reached out to
caress Rita's hand and Willa's smooth thigh.  This act, she
guessed, was like their costuming, a means of projecting into
fantasy.  Or simply a way of looking anew at themselves?

     She probed the bead skirt hanging between Willa's legs, found
fleecy pussy hair that she stroked while the scissors snipped and
tufts of hair piled up in a lacquered bowl that Rita held.  Then
came the lathering, with a brush painting coolness down each side
to her anus and beyond.  They had made her jack up her legs.  She
was utterly exposed, and every stroke of the brush, now the razor,
made her vagina twitch wetly.  Willa began stroking her tittie,
and she smiled on seeing the crown bloat.  Her eyelids became
leaden, and she gazed with lust at the three girls as her pussy
was slowly scraped smooth, and foamy stuff piled up on the hair in
the bowl.

     The girls murmured together.  Susie was too intent on the
operation to notice what they said.  Willa rose and went away,
shortly returned with a fresh pot of tea.  Gwen used a damp cloth
to wipe away the last traces of lather, then carefully dried her
with a towel, which glided smoothly over her skin.

     Susie felt pampered, loved, secure, content to lie here
forever.  But it was done and they raised her to a sitting
position and poured tea, and the three sat silently sipping it.

     She wanted to see her new self.  They took her to the swing
room mirror, and there she saw the new Susie with a surprisingly
plump and broad white mound, with cunt lips that looked simply
huge, a snugly joined halving of her crotch, but from it protruded
a shiny pink nubbin, ever so tiny compared to the expanse of
shaven white flesh.

     "So little!" she sighed.

     But Rita changed all that.  She dropped to her knees on the
floor and pressed her lips to the nubbin.

     A quick suck pulled it out of hiding and oh, goodness, when
Rita had moved from the mirror view it stuck out like a small,
glistening prick!  And like that, naked, Susie went to the library
and stood smiling at the men.

     They rose, hugged her, all aware that this was no whim, that
her pride was on the line.  They fingered her hot little gadget,
kissed her, fondled her breasts, patted her behind, and she found
herself sitting on the Japanese-style table with a fresh bamboo
cup of tea, utterly happy.

     Brian, if you could see me!

     Nick and Willa were dancing to rock music, snapping their
fingers.  Gwen and Rita had Howard in a corner and were teasing
him, rubbing his nipples and belly.  A hard on tented his sarong.

     Phil sat on the table beside Susie.  She vined her hands
about his bare arm, kissed his shoulder while gazing down at his
kilt.

     She asked, "And why the kilt?"

     "See, drag was just an annoyance, right?  But men wear
skirts, and this feels fine.  Besides, it's to make you ask what a
Scotsman wears under his kilt."  He laughed.

     She did not ask.  She slipped her hand under the heavy woolen
plaid and found nylon cramping his erection.  She giggled, raised
the kilt and saw that it was indeed pink!

     As she had done the other day, she plunged her hand inside
the panty waistband, and knuckling the panty crotch, washed her
fingertips over the rigid shank of his cock and the scrotum hugged
by a garment meant to fit a pussy.

     She whispered, "You told Willa you'd never been so hard as
when you were inside me."

     "It's true.  Though I told her that when we were in bed, and
I'd already fucked her through a string of cums.  I mean, I think
I'm over a lot of hang-ups, Susie.  Listen, don't worry what Willa
says, she can't keep her hands off my cock now and she doesn't
really care about the means of success.  She's practical."

     "Well, it's a lovely cock," Susie said, squeezing the horny
thing in his panties.

     Phil groaned, squirming, abruptly throwing an arm about her
and squeezing her close, whispering hoarsely, "Susie, it's so bony
hard it hurts.  Let me slip it into you.  I want to feel your
naked pussy  Susie, please?"

     Still delightedly fondling the rocky organ, she kissed his
cheek and whispered, "Yes, right now!  Where?"

     "Here!  On the table."

     "But goodness  the others  "

     He answered by clearing bamboo cups from the table and laying
her down on it, unhitching his kilt and dropping it.  He shoved
his pink nylon panties down just enough that his cock flipped
free, that big-knobbed red cock curving upward, and he knelt
between Susie's spraddled legs.

     The speed of his actions took her breath away but she did
have time to reach to the floor and find one of the cushions that
were scattered about.  She tucked it under her head to give
herself a view of her plump mound and hairless split with the
thorny pink clit standing out in bold view just as Phil lowered
himself and the massive red head of his cock dropped out of sight.

     She felt it sludge into her vaginal mouth, which was
shamelessly open.  For just a second the male organ lodged in the
opening, and then as she reshaped to fit, it squeezed up her hole.

     "Susie, you're sopping wet in there!"

     Smiling, she spread her legs wider and drew them back,
straightening her vagina.  Phil lunged and his cock slid in until
his pubes mashed her cuntlips.

     She could feel every hair pressing her split and her outer
lips as well.  Her labia were super-sensitive from the shaving.

     Phil dropped down on her, heavy on her hot breasts, nibbling
her ear and kissing her throat, already hip-jerking so the big-
knobbed male organ rippled in and out of her vagina.

     She felt juices seep out around his cock and run down her
behind, wetting her anus.

     She crossed her legs on his back, braced her heels on his
spine and gave a voluptuous hump.

     She thought, Oh, gosh, so hot and wet, wow, and how my clit
squeezes to him, how horny it is and wow, there I go all steaming
and my cunt flowing in waves around his meat!

     The others were watching them.  She glimpsed that but ignored
it, wound her arms over his shoulders and hugged Phil as she began
humping regularly, meeting his sludging cockthrusts, hearing the
loud sucks and squishes of cock in cunt, and then the slap of his
testicles on her ass.

     She bit his ear and whispered, "Such good cock!  Give me
cock, Phil darling, oh lots of hard cock up my hole, yes fuck me
fuck me FUCK ME!"

     The cum was a roiling, steamy convulsion seizing her belly
and closing it on his greasy prick, stripping it, then collapsing,
growing big like a balloon.

     She heard herself moaning, "My cunt is a wet balloon, fuck my
balloon, Phil, give it lots of cock, more cock, give me ALL THE
COCK YOU HAVE, PHIL!"

     She held him knotted in clenching arms and legs, squeezed her
ass in tight as she shut her vagina on the plunging length, all
tied up on him and grinding, hips grinding her naked pussy at his
hairy loins.

     Then she shrieked, "I'm cumming!  Oh-hh, my cunt is going off
all bursting, Phil!"

     Her knotted body tightened, crushing him, and he drove to the
depths of her hole and screwed around, dug her, not backing at
all, rooting in her convulsing belly as Susie grew wings and flew
through the sky like a bird with its tail on fire.

     She had collapsed, lay spread-eagled on the table, panting as
Phil's cock slid in and out of her jellied fuckhole.

     Her cum had blown but she lay there smiling lewdly, letting
herself be fucked.

     They had screwed around to a diagonal on the table.  Her left
arm hung toward the floor and her right foot touched it.

     "Worn out?" he asked.

     "Save your breath for fucking," Susie told him, grinning.

     She heard laughter.

     Phil was up on his elbows, grunting as his ass jacked up.  He
had risen off her breasts.  Idly she plucked a nipple, tugged it
and felt a spiral of heat worm from it down inside her to her
vagina.

     The yawning, jellied flesh there began to firm up.

     She raised a leg and heeled Phil's buttocks.  Bracing, she
pulled at her vaginal sphincter and felt a flutter, an awakening.

     "I'm going to start another cum," she told him.

     Her voice sounded loud.  Nobody was talking.  She glanced
around and saw they were all looking toward the hall doorway.

     She craned to look toward it.

     Her husband, Brian, was standing there as tall as a tree, his
face the color of newly sliced beets.



                            Chapter 15

     She had heard that roar before, that wounded bull, that bear
charging out of his cave.

     Phil appeared to leap from her.  One of Brian's big, hairy
hands swept past her face and slammed Phil's shoulder, and then
the two men formed one object hurtling down the room, crashing
against the bookshelves, smashing so hard that a hundred books
spilled down on them.

     From everywhere people came flying toward the pair beneath
the books, men and half-naked women with tits leaping, a dozen
hands thrusting into the tangle, hands clawing and clutching.

     Susie jerked upright, knowing she must help but with no idea
what was going on, except that inside her cunt pulsing gushes
continued.

     Rita and Howard emerged from the melee with their arms
wrapped around a leg clad in slacks, with shoe and sock,
struggling against the brutal kicks that used to scatter football
players.  The other shod and pants-clad leg appeared, hugged by
others, and they went rushing out of the room dragging Brian, his
head banging on the floor, out through the yoga room to the
kitchen.

     Susie ran after them.

     They had him out on the porch hanging over the edge.

     She heard Nick snarl, "Next time you trespass our property
we'll break your fucking arm!"

     With that they hurled Brian off, tumbling and rolling on the
grass.

     Then they made way for Susie, who pushed through them, went
down the porch steps and stood over her husband.

     His face looked chalky in the moonlight, like he was going to
be sick to his stomach.

     She said, "Brian, I won't be home tonight.  After work
tomorrow we can talk.  If you want."

     He was staring bug-eyed at the moon-white naked split of her
pussy.  His mouth worked.  No words came out.

     "Tomorrow evening," Susie said.

     At last he rose shakily to his feet and went, legs wobbling,
out the gate homeward.

     Tears blinded Susie as she went back inside feeling shaken by
the effort, the tooth-gritting summoning of will to tell Brian she
was not coming home.  And the tears.  How her friends had stood by
her, men and women alike flinging themselves on Brian and pitching
him out!  Perhaps they did not know of his brutal strength.  He
could have knocked them down like tenpins.  Probably shock and
surprise had done him in.

     She went to the swing room, feeling the need to be alone.
She closed the door and sat on the swing gazing at her tear-
streaked face, then down her body at the pink little jigger
glistening between her plump white pussy lips.

     I've done it, she thought.  Got my pussy shaved and Brian
knows it and I said I won't be home and I feel pretty lousy.

     She heard the others murmuring in the library.  She guessed
they would not disturb her.  Living six in a house they must know
the need for solitude.  Her gaze strayed to the chest of drawers.
She cocked her head thoughtfully.  Why not try a jiji?  It should
be calming if she swung very slowly.

     She went and chose one from the box, larger than she had used
before, returned to the swing and sat with her legs apart, the
egg-shaped instrument in her hand.

     She could see the livid line of her split, the slight
ovalling of her vaginal mouth.  Only minutes ago she had been
lying on that low Japanese table recovering from orgasm, letting
Phil fuck her, and feeling new stirrings in her belly.  If Brian
had not appeared she would have cum again by now.  Maybe Phil
would have shot his load into her.  Phil must be feeling terribly
hung up but the sweet man was keeping away and she loved him for
it.  Phil, just wait a few minutes, let me put my head back on,
I've defied my husband and I'm scared.  I mean, boldness must come
easy to a guy with strong shoulders and a chest all bone and
muscle and sheathed in hair, but take a woman, more soft titties
than shoulders ... well, nerve wears out and leaves you crying.

     The jiji.  To insert it she jacked her legs up, heeling the
swing seat.  She paused, the gadget in her hand, gazing at the
mirror, saw herself all hung-out tits and gaping cunt.  The outer
lips had drawn aside.  Her glistening coral cut looked so wide,
from the flared notch where her clit, limp now, dangled, down the
crinkled inner labia to her hole.  How big that red-ringed
opening!  Not quite a match in roundness for Gwen's when she
sucked the plastic phallus up her vagina.  Still ... you're right,
Gwen, shaving makes a woman face up to the long, vertical smile of
her cunt, see clearly that she is split, divided, that it's what
she's got to use, and that it is not passive, that she can develop
her techniques, her control of the sphincter, and become ten times
more woman!

     She slid the jiji down the slippery trough into the swollen,
bracketing labia, then tucked it up her hole, two-fingered it out
of sight and then she squeezed her sphincter.

     Oh, yes, the egg shape continued moving and her hole winked
shut.  She grinned with satisfaction.

     She began to swing, feeling those lopsided clicks start her
juices seething.  She had dropped her legs.  Now she closed them,
hugging the gadget within.  Of her pussy she now saw only her
plump mound and the dimple where her thighs met it.  She thought,
Really, it looks much prettier, that smooth white flesh.  So who
needs hair?

     The jiji was rocking wildly now as she swung higher, and oh,
a flush colored her cheek, spread down over her swollen breasts.
Like a cum beginning!

     Then she heard a light rap on the door.  A voice.  "It's
Phil."

     Her heart leaped.  Dearest Phil!  "Come in!"

     The door opened and he came in smiling wryly, wearing his
pink panties stretched out to a horizontal tent, a foot of pole in
there.

     Slowing the swing, she reached out her arms to him.  Phil
gave a laugh and came with a rush, kissed her open mouth, then
hopped onto the swing beside her.  Susie cuddled into his arms, a
hand vining into his hair, bringing his head down for another
kiss, took his meaty tongue to her throat.  She felt a hand cup on
her breast, and gently squeeze it.

     They were swinging again, the jiji rocking inside her, Phil's
caresses making her breast cap swell and harden.  She felt hot and
good all over, especially her throbbing clit being cramped and
massaged by smooth, hairless flesh.  And his strong tongue in her
mouth, like a limber cock, darting here and there!

     She slipped a hand down his chest, found his flat belly and
the elastic of the panties' waist, fingered under it to the hot
boniness of his cock.  For a moment her entire being existed in
the hand weaving about the rigid column, which seemed a firebrand
against her arm as she scooped his scrotum up out of the panty
crotch.

     Their mouths parted.  Panting, Phil said, "The way you handle
my cock and balls, Susie, so voluptuous, like you really love
'em!"

     "I do, I do!"  She gazed down at the red cock-head nuzzling
out of his panties, beside her wrist, saw the wet gaping of the
split in its tip, and felt her mouth water.  She whispered,
blushing as she spoke, "Phil, would you like me to suck it?"

     Her words brought a twitch of urgency to the randy organ, and
Phil gasped, "Gosh, if you want  I mean, I really dig head like
crazy  "

     Susie curled down his body.  The swing was barely large
enough to contain them with her in this position but she made it.
Susie got the fisted cock clear of panties and licked the swollen
head.

     The taste was the ranginess of cunt juice.  My juice dried on
him, get more of it, lick and lip it, wow, it's so big but I have
it in my mouth, oh suck suck suck Susie girl!

     They were swinging, the jiji clicking inside her.  With one
hand Phil fondled her breasts.  The other caressed her back, down
to her buttocks.  She squirmed as his fingers traced the curves
down into her cleft.  When he pressed her anus she groaned on the
mouthful of cock and sucked it right to her throat.

     His fingertip wriggled on her anal knot, sending electric
thrills in to where the wobbling jiji sent storms of hot impulses
to her rigid clit.  It was on fire now and before she knew it she
was cumming, panting as she sucked, squeezing her cunt
rhythmically on the crazy, mixed-up jiji wobble.

     The cum faded.  But almost instantly a new fever grew,
roiling from her toes to her cunt, to her mouthful of horny prick,
which twitched violently and plunged to her throat, telling her
Phil's load was on the way.

     It came in a hot gush, a fountain of thick cream spitting
into her throat.  Her renewed cum was so body-quaking that she was
not quite aware of the cock's discharge until she had, moaning and
switching her ass, burned over the peak of orgasm.

     As she slid down the other side, still cumming hard, she
drank his jizzum, swallowed and licked and gulped.

     Long after the last drop had spat into her throat, she
continued sucking Phil's luscious cock.

                          *     *     *

     She was in bed, a small bed in a small upstairs room, to
which Phil and Rita had shown her.  She was smiling, half asleep,
her every nerve melted to ooze, when Nick came in and sat on the
edge of the bed.  He still wore his baseball cap and shorts.

     He said, "Well, partner, we're painting football wallpaper
tomorrow, huh?"

     She nodded, smiling, reached to his hairy thigh and caressed
it.

     He said, "I've also sketched a tennis design in case we work
really fast."

     She slipped her hand up his thigh to his crotch.  She found
his cock stony hard.  She unzipped him and dug out the big, hot
prick and fisted the spongy knob tipping it.

     Nick said, "I thought you were all worn out, Susie."

     "Well, I could just lie here and let you fuck me."

     Grinning, he climbed out of his shorts, stuffed a pillow
under Susie's ass, and mounted her, shoving his cock into her
gaping wet tunnel of a cunt, to the hilt on the first poke, the
big thing so hot, plugging her so fully, that she felt the first
tremors of a cum when it butted the deepest pocket of her vagina.

     She wound about him, clung as Nick's hips began jerking, and
his shaft rode in and out of her.

     Susie's first cum was so easy, a lazy vaginal sucking that
built to long, wet surges, ending in a pop like a bubblegum bubble
exploding, that she decided to just lay there and let things
happen.  The second orgasm was even easier.  She grunted, squeezed
her ass in, and let go.

     She murmured in Nick's ear, "You'll leave me like a limp
dishrag.  I don't know if I could take a visit from Howard."

     "He has Rita and Gwen climbing all over him.  They'll milk
him dry."

     Good thing, Susie thought, cumming again, just lying there
spraddle-legged, letting Nick drive it up her slobbering funnel of
a fuckhole.  Even when he began to roar she could not move except
for the long internal pulls on his spitting organ.  During it she
fell asleep, smiling off into dreams.  For hour after hour she
felt Nick's cream shooting up her cunt.

     She awoke in moonlight, feeling someone's weight depress the
bed.  Milky white, that small, slim girl with the pouty tits,
Willa, smiling down at Susie and stroking her leg.

     She said, "Susie, everybody's gone to sleep except me."

     "Come sleep with me," Susie whispered, reaching out to her.

     Willa's smile flashed and she came slithering down into
Susie's arms.  How lovely her soft titties felt, melting into
Susie's!  And her warm little belly, and the silky pussy hair
brushing her thigh.

     They kissed.  Like that, tongues slowly vining about, Susie
fell asleep again.  In a dream she felt Willa stroking her clit.
Wow, but it felt horny!

     The girl was whispering, "I'd like to suck it."

     The next thing Susie knew, a slippery tongue was sliding up
her cunt and creamy soft lips tugged at her clit.

     She pressed toward the odor of hot pussy, got a satiny thigh
under her head, and nuzzled into moist pussy hair.

     Like a dream, happily licking Willa's stiffened clit in the
squashiness of its enclosing notch, she wiggled her hips a little
and went right into a cum.

     Was she dreaming?

     She was too happy to care, because either a dream Willa or a
real one was sucking her into another orgasm.



                            Chapter 16

     In daylight she found Willa in her arms.  Oh yes, it had been
real, and now she heard someone call that Willa was late for work.
She arose with a start, gave Susie a hurried kiss, and rushed out.

     By eight o'clock Susie had finished breakfast and with Gwen
sat in lotus seat on the yoga platform, learning to breathe
correctly as the first step up the levels of the discipline.  She
wanted to be taught control of the vaginal sphincter but Gwen said
that would follow, first learn to sit comfortably and to breathe.

     At eight-thirty she and Nick knelt over the wallpaper sketch,
red helmets and golden footballs, white cleated shoes on a green
gridiron.  They began painting.

     At ten-thirty, Nick said, "Let's take a fuck break."

     Susie laughed.  But Nick meant it.  He dropped his shorts and
while she still crouched over the design he mounted her from
behind, stuck his meat right up her slippery hole.

     On each of her orgasms the design seemed to swim around,
detached shoes kicking footballs, helmets tumbling about the green
gridirons.

     After lunch she and Rita sipped a cup of Kashmir Karma while
taking a jiji swing, finished their cums on the swing room couch,
where they took a siesta.

     That afternoon she and Nick finished the football design and
started the tennis one.  By five o'clock she was home, had tidied
up Brian's breakfast dishes, bathed, and put on her wood-nymph
tunic.  She made a martini cocktail.

     She was standing in the living room sipping it when Brian's
car rolled in the drive.  She was facing the mirror, saw that her
chin was high, proud, her body firm but relaxed.  She toyed with
the crown of her bare white breast while waiting for Brian to come
in.

     She heard him in the kitchen.  She turned that way sipping
her drink.  He appeared in the doorway.

     He looked haggard, she thought.  He had dark circles under
his eyes, as though he had not slept well last night.  He gazed
flatly at her, scanning her costume.

     He demanded, "Why are you wearing that?"

     "Because I like it."

     He scowled.  "I hope nobody's seen you dressed that way!"

     "But they have, six of them, and you make seven, no, eight,
because I'm one or maybe I'm two, one the me that used to be Susie
the door-mat.  This Susie loves the wood-nymph tunic.  Brian, how
was your day?  Did you fuck your secretary?"

     Hearing that, he looked from her.  A faint blush showed on
his throat.

     She said, "I don't mind your fucking her, Brian.  It's just
part of your job, showing what a big shot you are, so big that a
secretary has to flop down on your couch with her legs apart.  I
have a job too, helping Nick paint wallpaper designs.  He fucks
me, too, but not because I have to let him, because I love it.
Dig?"

     "Susie, what is this?  What has happened?"

     "Why, Brian, I got fed up with your squareness, your all-
American boy executive shit, a life-style in which I was only a
convenience.  Did you notice that my pussy is shaved?"

     Swallowing hard, he nodded.

     To make sure he did not miss it, Susie lifted her skirt,
saying, "I'm proud of my cunt now, proud of my big clit, which by
the way is not like a little boy's prick, it's not a prick, I
don't pee through it or stick it into things.  It's where my cums
start, and it's there to be caressed and sucked.  Which you've
never done, but you will before you ever get your cock into my
hole again."

     "Susie, Susie, the way you talk!"

     "Go mix yourself a drink.  You look like you need it."

     Groaning, he went into the kitchen.

     Susie followed, stood in the doorway with a hip shot out,
sipping her drink, watching him take ice cubes from the fridge and
pour gin and vermouth into the shaker.

     She asked, "What did Clayton think of my seducing his wife?"

     He did not reply until his drink was made and he had taken a
sip.  Then he said, "Funny.  It turned him on.  And her.  She wore
him out.  Five or six times during the night."

     Susie smiled.  "And you?"

     "Christ, last night you slugged me twice, that Lesbian stuff
with Carla, then next door seeing that guy fucking you.  I didn't
sleep at all."

     "Then you need to lie down right now.  Come to the bedroom
with me."  Susie turned from the doorway and headed for the
bedroom.  She wagged her ass through a stuttering roll as though
she felt sexy, which she did because she had once fallen in love
with Brian and was not giving up that easy.  In the hall she
paused and murmured, "Take off your clothes.  Except for your
undershirt."

     In the bedroom she paused and sipped her drink.  The
undershirt?  Because a man felt more naked, vulnerable, with his
chest concealed but his cock and balls exposed.  She listened,
heard shoes thump on the floor, shortly saw him enter looking
embarrassed.  White T-shirt.  Long, plump, dangling cock.  His
loaded scrotum seemed to hang halfway down his leg.

     He said, "Susie, you're just not like I thought!"

     "I'm not like I thought, either."  She finished her drink and
set the glass on the dresser.  She went and sat on the edge of the
bed, and beckoned.  "Come here, Brian."

     He came.  She watched his cock and balls jostle with the
swing of his stride.  She held out her hands.  He walked to them
and she grasped his meaty cock, brought her face to him, and bent
to his loins and stuffed the fat head of his cock into her mouth.

     His jaw fell, astonished, unbelieving as Susie sucked her
mouth full and began toying with his nuts.

     "Susie!  You've never  "

     She tongued it out, said, "I was a prig, a priss little
frightened twat.  And you were so square, so wrapped up in your
office world that you never bothered to help me be a human being,
a real female.  I'm giving you one more chance."

     She licked around the burgeoning rim, then nibbled it in,
fisting it as it lengthened and grew harder, massaging, fondling
his testicles.  Quite abruptly Brian was breathing hard.  And
there it stood from her pink lips like a great dark banana, a long
and thick boniness, a yummy cock, a beautiful cock.

     Susie slipped off it, then flung herself back on the bed,
throwing her legs apart.

     "Eat me, Brian," she said.

     He was grinning wryly, his mouth twisted, as he dropped to
his knees on the floor.  He made a low, animal noise as he plunged
into the fork of her legs, between thighs that had for so many
years met in the concealment of her pussy beard.  The bareness of
her pinkish-white lips surprised him anew on each glance.  Brian's
mouth yawned and he gobbled in those shaven outer lips as his
tongue splashed wildly up and down her split, as though he
welcomed the change, as though hairless pussy was his turn-on.

     Or guilt?  Did he feel that fucking his secretary had driven
his wife to the house next door and the Lesbian seduction of Carla
Clayton?

     Feeling his tongue swirling about the mouth of her vagina,
starting cum spasms, Susie groaned with pleasure.  She was close
to letting go.  With an effort she clenched her fists, clinging to
her new control over Brian.

     Then he sucked her clit.  Wow!  A wet firestorm was growing.
But it paused as Brian slipped off, saying, "Okay, it's not a
kid's cock, it's a big clit.  All right?"

     Seeing the pink erection against his lip, she wanted to
shriek, "Suck it, suck it!"  But she had another lesson to teach
him.  She humped backward on the bed, away from him, and said, "On
the bed, Brian, it's my turn to ride."

     Puzzled, licking glistening cuntjuice from his lips, he
obeyed, climbed onto the bed and laid there with his cock standing
a foot tall, twitching, the fat head bobbing about.  Susie got up
on her knees, knelt astride him, and tucked that big head into her
split.

     He was scowling.  "It's like this is your vengeance."

     She fisted his cockshank and rotated the rigid stalk,
circling the head in the gushy mouth of her vagina.

     She said, "No!  It's to show you I'm a horny cunt and
independent, not just a slippery hole for you to plug into!"

     Slowly, cunt-sucking the big prick, she lowered, filled up
with hot meat, and rubbed her swollen clit on his loins.

     He gasped, "Susie, I've never felt you that hot and wet!"

     "It's a whole new ball game, Brian," she said, then said no
more, for her orgasm came in a sizzling burst, making her shriek
as she jerked up and down on her husband's cock.

                          *     *     *

     It was morning and she heard Brian leave the house, then
drive off to work.  He had made his own breakfast!  Susie giggled.

     She rubbed her pussy.  It felt a little sore.  Brian had
fucked her five times.  Had they eaten supper?  Just snacks, she
guessed.  She had ridden him, had gotten it doggie fashion, but
naturally the most satisfying had been on her back, her legs
around his powerful body, though she had not admitted that to him.
Keep him dangling a little.

     She rose and put on her wood-nymph tunic, had breakfast.  In
bright sunlight she crossed the back lawn toward the house next
door.  She did not try to hide her bare right breast.  If
neighbors saw her nude tittie, fuck 'em!

     In the kitchen she kissed Rita, who had a gift from Howard,
his improved model clit sucker.  Rita said, "Later we could have a
jiji swing together, and you can try out the new gadget."

     "It's a date!" Susie said, hugging her, then going to the
yoga room where she had her lesson from Gwen.  During it her
thoughts wandered.  Should she introduce Brian to these friends of
hers, let him in on this jungle of sensuality?  She thought not.
He might now be a worthwhile husband but he remained Brian, whose
world was that tigerish office struggle.  He would of course be
jealous but had to get used to it.  My life comes first, she
thought, and if Brian can't hack it the way I am, tough tit!

     On the way upstairs, trailing a hand on the wooden banister,
she gave way to impulse, abruptly threw a leg over it, crotched
it, and began sliding down.

     It was hand-rubbed smooth, oiled by generations of hands, and
its slickness was perhaps increased by pussy juice.

     Giggling, she slid backward to the bottom.

     Then she saw Nick at the top of the stairs, in shorts and
baseball cap.

     "That's it," he said.  "Warm it up for me.  I'm so horny I
got to get my load off before we start work."

     He was rubbing his erection.

     And Susie, astride the banister, aware that her cunt was
still a bit sore from Brian's big cock, felt a wet quiver in her
vagina.

     Well, she thought, it really would be nice to get a cum or
two, to settle us down to work.

     She climbed off the banister, smiling broadly as she climbed
the stairs toward Nick.