0 comments/ 44926 views/ 6 favorites Some Tourist... Ch. 1 By: puppetgirl Summer should be a wonderful time. After a school year so hectic, so full of lectures and readings, papers and paperwork, needing 28 hour days but only having 24, using a survival technique that can only be described as academic triage--there's no way you can do everything that's expected of you, so you make choices, giving the squeaky wheels the grease and hoping the things you let slide won't come back to bite you. Summer. Ah yes: swimming pools, waterskiing, working on the tan, hiking, biking . . . NOT! Not if you have to work all summer to make enough money to cover what your scholarship doesn't. But the summer is not entirely without rewards . . . Like half the women who stay in town after school is out, I got a job as a "server," as in "Hello, my name is Audrey and I'll be your server tonight," said with a big smile and fond hopes for a big tip. Although there's a college here, the town's economy is dominated by tourism. Sitting on the edge of a Rocky Mountain wonderland, surrounded by scenic beauty, the tourists flock here in droves during the summer. And, like people everywhere, they need to eat! There are dozens of restaurants in the downtown area, some fancy, some not; some filled mostly with tourists, a few that cater to locals. The one I work in seems to cross over. Locals inhabit the place in winter, but being close to the big hotel in town, it gets it's share of tourists during the summer. I didn't go to work there thinking it would be the perfect place to meet people. I went to work there because my best friend was working there and she told me they needed help. But I soon realized that if a person wanted to expand her horizons by getting to know interesting people, she could do a lot worse than serving food to folks who have the desire to travel and enough money to do it. Okay, let me get this out in the open right now: I'm not going to write a travel piece, or an exposé about the plight of the poor working girl; nothing like "Nickel and Dimed.". This is going to be about sex. Sex, plain and simple. If you don't like sex, read no further. Go get a textbook and study. I get enough of that all year. Summer is for something else. I find myself wanting to use that sentence as an opener, sort of like a murder mystery opening sentence; a lead-in, something a lady private eye might say in a lesbian spoof of all those dumb private dick movies. Something like, "Yeah, she was something else all right. She had the kind of legs that made a girl want to become a pair of stockings, a gentle swell where her cunt showed through that short, tight dress that made me want to lick until my mouth was sore. . . ," but I'm not quite ready for that yet. You need to know more about me to know why I was so intrigued when she appeared for breakfast at a corner table for one that was mine. I'm not going to do one of those bogus lesbian biographies, the ones that talk about how the girl always knew she was a lesbian, from the moment she was born, how her first love was a girl in pre-school she rolled around with in a sleeping bag after cookies and milk and nappies. Until last year, I didn't have a clue. I was a "normal" kid; had a vanilla, high school sex life. Which, of course, means I blew most of the guys who took me out so they wouldn't want to fuck me and get me pregnant or worse, cum all over me and make a fucking mess without giving me any pleasure. They grabbed my breasts and rubbed my cunt too hard, and, of course, they never ate me. And, of course, I never came. I giggled, did my hair, put on makeup so the boys would look at me, even dressed so they would drool at me. I wanted them to like me, but frankly, there was never a sexual payoff and I never knew why. I guess I figured orgasms with partners were for boys. When I came, I did it myself. I'd let the water from the spout in the bathtub run on my clit; I'd rub myself in bed; sometimes, I'd have dreams where I was flying, and I'd wake up sexually aroused with a wet cunt and I'd finish the feeling, half asleep, laying on my tummy with my hand between my legs. But I always thought I was straight, that I'd marry a boy and make babies. That he'd take care of me and I'd, what? God, what a scary thought! I certainly didn't know that sex with another person could make your belly heave, your cunt drip, your body shake and tremble; make you moan and babble uncontrollably, give you a cresting wave of feelings so powerful you'd do anything to feel them over and over and over. I didn't know because all the sex I'd experienced had been with guys who didn't know what the hell they were doing, and I sure as hell didn't know any better. That all changed last year. Her name was Linda. She was about to graduate and leave college. I was a lowly sophomore. She was the star of the English department. A fucking genius. I was in awe of her. She used big words, talked literary criticism in the student union and used post-modernist intellectual jargon likeshe actually understood what she was talking about! She loved to recite Adrienne Rich poetry extemporaneously. And she was gay. Everyone knew it. She made it obvious. She wasn't butch. She was sort of cute, but she would walk hand in hand with women she was seeing. She would openly kiss women on campus. Whenever I would see her holding or kissing another woman I'd get the same feeling I got in those flying dreams. A lot of us suspected she was sleeping with the department chair. I tried to picture that, her with a forty year old woman, and got those same feelings, again. She was smart, confident, pretty, and I thought she was somehow way beyond me. I was afrasid to even speak to her. She was working in the English department office. One day I went there needing help with registration. My schedule was a mess, and nothing seemed to be working. Linda told me we could do it together, she'd help me, but she hated the mob in the computer lab, the office computer was down, but she had a fast internet connection at home and we could register there. She told me to come by that evening. I went to her apartment. We went into her bedroom where the computer was, and when she turned it on, the wallpaper on her desktop was a picture of two women kissing. She watched my face to see how I'd react. I guess I blushed. She laughed. But being in her bedroom, knowing she was a lesbian, that we were alone together all somehow made me feel unbelievably sexual. I was attracted to her. I certainly never thought that I would feel that way, but there you have it, I did. Linda asked me if I'd like to see some more pictures, and I told her I would. She brought up a kind of slide show of women kissing, then the pictures progressed until the women were touching each other, naked together, and one of them showed a woman kissing another one between the legs. I couldn't believe it. I'd never seen pictures like that, and, surprisingly, it made me very hot. Lindsay asked me if I knew that she was a lesbian. I told her I suspected that she was. She asked me if I came over because I wanted to make love with her. I honestly answered that the thought had never entered my mind. I'll never forget what she asked me next. Or, how I answered. "Has it entered you mind now?" she asked, staring into my eyes with something that looked a lot like hope, a lot like lust. I looked back at her and answered, simply, "Yes." The rest is a bit of a blur. Somehow we moved to her bed. She took off my clothes, kissing me wonderfully, softly, on my mouth. Her hands touched me, not like boys had touched me, but gently, confidently, knowingly. Like she was doing it to please me! And every touch seemed to build the fire in my cunt. I was whimpering, kissing her back, scared to death but so excited I could hardly stand it. The first time I came with Linda, she was fully dressed. I was naked. We were sitting on the edge of her bed. She was kissing me. My mouth was open, and our tongues were touching. Her hand was on my cunt, her palm pressed against my clit which was still buried in folds of skin. One of her fingers was sliding in my very slippery crack, but her palm pressing into me there, my hips pressing back, pushed me over the top. I came kind of quietly, with a stifled moan and a big shudder, but it was more than I'd ever felt with another person. Way more. After that, she undressed and rubbed her wonderful warm naked body against mine. I felt her breasts rubbing against my breasts, then against my tummy, her hard nipples almost tickling me. Her mouth found my nipples, kissing and sucking. Her breasts and nipples rubbed across my cunt (that was something!), and my thighs. Her lips and tongue found my cunt. I watched, as if in a dream, as if this was happening to someone else. When I came that second time, I was too far gone to stifle my moans. I don't really know what I sounded like, except that Linda told me I sounded wonderful. I know that I came harder than I'd ever come, even with my own fingers or a jet of water. I came so wonderfully hard and long, came in a way I never knew you could; and knew I would love her forever. And I did, for what remained of the term. She graduated and left for Alaska after a couple of weeks of madly passionate lovemaking. Which left me to my fingers again, and with the understanding that I could cum with a woman like I never did with a man. I'd never really thought of men sexually, I realized, even though I knew that I turned them on.. I'd never really thought of anyone sexually. But now, when I masturbated, I pretended Linda was touching me, eating me, rubbing a breast or her leg there, that Linda was kissing me all over, pressing a slippery wet finger into my ass, licking my hole while I masturbated, on my knees, my breasts hanging down where she could hold them (god, I loved that!)--or, I'd now find myself imagining some woman I'd seen that day who looked sexy to me, someone I could pretend I was making love to. I had changed. So there she was, remember, the tourist lady at my table, the one with the legs and the cunt? (She had wonderful breasts, too, a lovely neck, bare shoulders that drove me crazy, a lovely face that semed very worldly, jet black page boy hair and lipstick that was wildly red.) She was there for breakfast. She was wearing a black dress that was very short, with a bare bacvk to go with those bare shoulders. She had black thigh-highs on, and spiked heels. Her hem was high enough when she sat to expose an inch or two of bare thigh between her dress and her stockings. She was dressed to kill, and I had clearly been murdered. She was definitely not a local, and not a typical tourist, either. Mostly the tourists wear shorts and polos or tee shirts; yucky polyester slacks and stupid sweatshirts or tees with dumb writing like, "I'm with stupid." Thier kids wear shirts that say, "My mom and dad went to Colorado and all I got was this lousy Tee-shirt." Why do they wear that shit? The locals, mostly mountain jocks, wear running shorts and halters, or biking clothes, or hiking clothes. Polar fleece is big. Nike and New Balance. Birkenstocks (I was guilty of that one, myself). Not slinky designer dresses with short hems. Not black thigh-high stockings with bare thigh showing, and definitely not spiked heels! When I took her order, she was somewhat formal, but she asked me if I was a student at the college, and what I was studying. I politely answered her questions, and tried to be professional, but I was clearly shaken. I delivered her food, poured her coffee and went about my business, re-filling her coffee cup, clearing her dishes, taking care of my other tables. Bringing her desert. Making small talk. Although she was reading a newspaper, she watched me when I wasn't at her table. When our eyes met, she would smile. And when I brought her the bill, she took it from me, letting her fingers slide across my wrist and hand. It sent shivers through me. She left me a twenty dollar tip. I felt like it was Christmas. Christmas with a tinglebetween the legs! She came back for three days, each morning sitting in my station. Each day asking more and more about me. Each meal, staring at me more and more obviously, letting her eyes linger on my eyes, my breasts, my ass, my cunt, my legs. And each time she left, she would ask for her bill and hold my hand when I would bring it. On the fourth day she was standing when I came with her bill. She moved close to me when she took it, letting her warm leg linger against mine. The heat was electric. Along with the tip, another twenty that she pressed into my hand, holding me there for what seemed like forever, there was a note. When she walked out of the restaurant, I took it into the bathroom, my heart pounding, and read it. " I am staying at the Prater Hotel. Room #417. I will be in my room this afternoon if you would like to join me for a pot of tea and conversation, say 3 o'clock? I would ever so much love to get to know you better. Laura." Each day her effect on me had grown. I found myself eager to get to work to see if she'd be there. Every day she dressed like she was going on a date in some big city, not out for breakfast in an outdoorsy tourist town. And each afternoon, when I got off work I would go home, lock myself in my room, lie down on my bed and masturbate, imagining that she was making love to me. Work took forever that day, but somehow I managed to get through it. I ran home to shower, and, I realized, to dress for her. From the way she had touched me, the way she had stared, I just knew her interest in me wasn't purely conversational. I put on a short cotton sundress with a stretch bodice and no straps. Now my back and shouldersd would be bare. I stepped into a pretty pair of sandals. I did not wear a bra. I did not wear panties. "If I'm wrong about this," I thought, "I will die of embarrassment!" But I was so excited thinking about her, so badly wanting her to make love to me, I just had to dress in a way that made my desire clear. I walked to the hotel, feeling every puff of wind on my naked thighs and bottom, every blustery breath under my dress, on my exposed cunt. God! I was so excited! I took the elevator up to her floor, and once the door had closed, I slipped a hand under my dress and touched myself. I was wet and slippery. I rubbed some of the wetness, the scent, on my neck and throat. When I got to her floor, I walked to her room and found the door ajar. I knocked, and heard her voice from inside say, "Come in, Audrey." And entered. She was sitting in a wing chair near the window. The white lace curtains were drawn, but the heavy drapes were open, filling the room with soft, diffused light. I couldn't believe what she was wearing, and not wearing! Sitting there, she was naked, except for those shoes, the tall black spiked heels, the black stockings that ended mid-thigh, and a broad necklace that wrapped her neck like a choker. It was covered with what appeared to be diamonds, but how could they be, it have cost too much. I must have looked stunned. She smiled. "Surely you're not completely surprised, Audrey?" "Well . . . I," "I have been sending you sexy vibes from the minute I laid eyes on you." "Yes, I know, I felt it . . ." "But this, does it seem a little, well a little abrupt. A bit forward of me?" "Well, maybe, I don't . . ." "Then forgive me, Audrey. I don't like to beat around the bush. If I have frightened you, by all means, please leave. I apologize. But if you'd like to stay, please just close the door, and lock it." I turned, confused, excited--after all, I was the one who'd not worn anything under her dress, who'd hoped for something like this, but like this, really? She seemed way out of my league in every way. She must have been twenty years older, at least forty. She was clearly sophisticated, probably wealthy, well-traveled. I was a sexual beginner, a hick from a small town. But I was hot. Oh dear god was I ever hot! My whole body felt like a giant clit, twitching, eager, dying to be touched. My back was to her, and I could feel her eyes on me. I walked to the door, pressed it until it closed with a click, then turned the deadbolt. Klunk. Put the chain in the slide. Slunk. Turned to face her, quickly, letting my hem fly up, revealing my state of, my state of . . . preparation. Clearly, in that moment we knew what each of us wanted, me with the power of imagination; her, I guessed, from much experience. "Let me speak, Diane," Laura began again. I am woman who knows her likes, her needs. I am also a woman who likes to teach. Do you have any lesbian experience?" "Yes." "How much?" "One lover." "Was she a student like you, a woman near your age?" "Yes." "I would like to be your lover this afternoon. To show you what pleases me; to have you ask me for what might please you. Anything. Even things you've never had the courage to express. Would you like that?" I was shaking. Eager. Frightened. Thinking I didn't know this woman at all, and she could be some kind of kook who would, like, murder me or something! But the fire in my cunt was so hot, I couldn't leave. I couldn't say no. I didn't want to. When she spoke I looked at her, nearly naked, but sitting there so comfortable with her nakedness. Her mouth was lovely when she spoke, her lips painted bright red, outlined in nearly black violet. Her body was exquisite. Large breasts, with large, dark nipples. Long legs, made longer by the sexy shoes, the mid-thigh stockings. Somehow, the necklace and the stockings framed her body in a way that said, this is what you've come for, isn't it! And my heart answered an inarticulate, "Yes, yes it is." She stood up. She walked to me and took my hand again. She pressed her leg between mine, her naked thigh moving beneath my dress, nestling between my own naked thighs as I opened them wide, as she pressed her thigh into my cunt. She kissed me, holding me, pulling my against her naked breasts. She kissed my neck and I saw her nostrils flare, her eyes widen when she took in my woman scent, the scent I'd put there in the elevator. For a beginner, I guess my instincts were pretty good. I found myself sliding against her thigh, the feeling of soft warm skin on my now opening cunt was better than anything! I was fucking her leg and it was wonderful. Her hands gathered the fabric of my dress, lifting it over my now naked, totally exposed ass. Her hands held my bottom, gently squeezing it apart, exposing me even more as her leg continued to do something magical to my cunt. We kept kissing. Kept rubbing. She nibbled my lips, squeezed my ass harder, pressed against me, rubbing with steady pressure until I thought I would die, but I did not. I was coming to life. I was moaning. Humping her leg in earnest now. I could feel the hair that was trimmed to a triangle above her shaved pussy against my own bare thigh; feel her wet cunt open against my leg as mine had opened against hers. I could see us in the large mirror that covered the closet door. See us, there, so wonderfully wanton and wild, fucking each other's leg, dressed, undressed, in sexual costume with no pretense, only the obvious desire to find pleasure in each other's bodies. Without speaking another word, we shared our first orgasm together. Standing in her hotel room. Sundress lifted to my waist. Her naked but for stockings, shoes and necklace. Kissing. Rubbing. Breathing faster and faster. Fucking madly. Finally moaning into each other's mouths as the waves rolled over us and we cried out in such incredible pleasure. It was heaven, and I knew I'd only just arrived at the entrance. If this was the Pearly Gate, I wondered, what thrills does heaven yet hold for me, deeper inside? Some Tourist... Ch. 2 I managed to catch my breath, but it wasn't easy. I was in her arms, shaking, feeling the lingering effects of a moment unlike anything I'd experienced before. My dress was gathered around my waist. My ass, my legs, my cunt were all exposed. I was standing there in the arms of a woman with whom I'd barely spoken a dozen sentences. And I'd just cum, without restraint, without fear--in her hotel room, standing, grinding our cunts into each other's bare thigh! It must sound terribly strange, terribly indecent, terribly . . . wrong? But it didn't feel that way. It didn't feel that way at all. It felt wonderful. It felt wild. It felt passionate. And, it felt somehow warm and secure. Something about Linda made me comfortable, made me want to do anything she asked or suggested. There was something about her that made me want to follow her lead. Maybe it was because she was older than any lover I'd had before her. Maybe it was because she had awakened a part of me I never knew existed, the part that desired pleasure above all else. Somehow I understood that the places she would take my heart, my body, my skin, my lips, my cunt would be places I would enjoy visiting. "Audrey, darling, let's not stand here half naked," she laughed, "let me put something on. Let me get you something to wear. Okay?" "Okay, Linda," I answered her weakly, still trembling from the feelings that had crested moments before. Holding my hand, she led me to the closet, which she opened. It was filled with clothing, more dresses, more shoes, more accessories, more stuff than I'd ever imagined a woman could carry with her on vacation. She parted some hangers, and pulled out a tiny silk kimono, beautifully printed with an erotic scene, two Japanese women--white skinned, mere stylized slits for eyes, jet-black hair piled high on their heads, tiny mouths, pouty lips painted a brilliant red, naked white skin touching, their breasts, touching. She handed it to me. She bent over, revealing, again, her lovely bottom, long legs--I tingled, again, so soon after cumming, just watching her. She handed me a pair of shoes much like her own, with the same tall spikes, but these were shiny red. "Here," she said handing the shoes and the very short, silken robe to me, "why don't you see if these fit?" I slipped out of my Birkies, lifted my dress over my head, and stood there for a moment, completely naked, before slipping the shoes over my feet, the kimono over my shoulders. Standing there I began to ache, again, for her touch; but she did not touch me, she only stared. I could feel her eyes on me as if they were her hands, sliding up my legs, my calves which were flexed from the steep angle the shoes imposed on my feet, lingering on my naked, shaved cunt which peeked out from beneath the very short robe, dwelling on the swell of my hips, sliding across my flat tummy, enjoying the sight of my breasts, my erect nipples outlined beneath the slick silk, caressing my bare neck, savoring my red mouth before resting on my hazel eyes and peering into my soul. It was as if she was touching me, making love to me with her eyes. I could feel her gaze running across my body like talented fingers. My cunt ached for her to touch it with her leg again, to touch it, maybe, with her hand, or maybe, oh how I wished it, with her lips and tongue! Instead, she stared. The Kimono felt sleek and slippery, the way only silk feels. The shiny fabric sliding across my skin, slipping across my nipples when I pulled the robe across my body to tie it together with the sash, almost made me cum, again. The robe covered only half my bottom. The round place where thighs met ass was exposed. In the front my cunt showed, totally. It made me feel more naked than being naked, sexier than anything I'd ever worn. What was happening to me? My entire being seemed geared in that time in that place, in her company, toward one thing and one thing only, sensual pleasure. Linda took a black velvet evening gown from the closet, and I watched as she stepped through the top, and pulled it up over her body. It was stunning. She was stunning. Beneath it, she wore only what she had worn for my arrival--the mid-thigh stockings, the diamond studded necklace. The shoes. Her gown was slit up the front to above her navel! When she walked across the room to sit on the edge of the bed I could see everything. Her stride parted the fabric so that her lovely legs and cunt were framed in a vee of black velvet. She sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the spot next to her. I crossed the room as she had, and sat beside her. She put her arms around me and began to speak. "Audrey, I have a confession to make." I looked at her, puzzled, wondering what was coming next; somewhat fearful, but eager. "My having breakfast all those mornings at the place where you work, my inviting you here, our initial moment of pleasure, none of this has been completely accidental." I wondered where this was going, but I was still feeing the lingering tremors of an orgasm I had loved, the slip and slide of silk across my nipples, the sight of her, of me, of us. My body was eager for more. God, was it eager! "I belong to a very special club. There are only seven of us. We are all single. We are all successful. We have been the best of friends for many years. We adore each other, and over the years we have found that we enjoy, intensely, the company of a lovely young woman such as yourself. We get together once a year in an out of the way place to engage in a kind of ritual. Each year, one of us is charged with the responsibility of finding a particularly adorable, innocent but especially provocative young woman, and to prepare her to be shared by all of us in an evening of pleasure. I saw you my first day here, and knew immediately that you were quite special. I want you to be the one. I want to share your loveliness with my dear friends. Are you willing?" My heart was pounding. Everything about the week had been leading me to something, but I had no idea what. Each morning I had seen her, and each afternoon I'd masturbated, imagining her making love to me. I ran home from work with her image in my mind. I flopped down on my bed after ripping off my clothes. I fingers grabbed at my body, tugged on my nipples, other fingers worked their way into my wet cunt, slid around my hard little clit. I lifted my hips up off the bed to meet her imagined touch, the dream of her tongue in my cunt. Frantically I made love to myself, pretending it was the tourist, the woman in the restaurant. And I'd cum with such fury, it was if we really were lovers even though I had no idea who she was. And now, finally, I was in her room, sitting next to her, dressed like a whore, and moments before I'd cum in her arms, grinding myself against her leg like a dog in heat and it had been better than anything I'd ever felt with another person. But her new request was so far beyond anything I could have imagined I didn't know what to think. I found myself unable to speak. "I guess this is all very unusual and strange. I'm so sorry dear Audrey. But you are astonishing. I want so much for you to enjoy this experience I so badly wish to give to you. And I know you cannot imagine what it is I am asking. I guess I am asking you to trust me." As she was saying this, her hands undid my sash, parted my kimono. Her lips found mine, again, and my legs opened for her hand which was gently caressing my thighs. She stopped talking. I stopped thinking. Again, as it had never been with anyone else, it was nothing but feelings. Her hand rested under my breast, gently holding it. Her lips sucked in my nipple while her tongue and teeth teased it. Her fingers ran teasingly down my belly, and her mouth followed. She slid to the floor, kissing my legs, gently parting my thighs with her hands. I leaned back on my palms, clenching the bedding between my fingers, praying that she would kiss my cunt the way I'd imagined so many times. She wasted no time. Again, it was as if I was there, twice: the me that she was making love to, the me that was feeling her tongue and lips, her hands on my legs and ass; and the me that watched this beautiful, sophisticated, worldly woman, on her knees, about to give pleasure to some other, stunning young woman, a changed woman I hardly knew, who sat, filled with expectation on the edge of a hotel bed, wrapped in printed silk that had parted, fallen from her shoulders to rest in a wrinkled pile across her bottom, around her wrists. That girl had arched her back, her exposed breasts pointed toward heaven, her mouth was agape, legs were spread wide, and she had begun to moan. Her hips had begun to move, slow rocking movements that matched the pressing and licking of the elegant woman who was between her thighs. As her hips rolled with the mouth that made love to her sex, her own mouth opened wider, her own tongue began to lick at her lips, as if she too were loving another woman's sex. Her chest rose and fell with the feelings, her deepening breaths. She was lost in the sensations that built, quickly, like rising surf rolling onto a wet beach. The waves, the beach. The tongue, the cunt. The clit reaching out to be flicked, and sucked, nibbled. "Oh dear god, it has never been like this. I will die from such intense pleasure!" I thought that, I really did. It was that overwhelming. But I didn't die. I lived. I was alive, more alive than I'd ever been, living more fully than I'd ever lived, every nerve atingle, every part of my body somehow acutely aware of itself. She was between my legs, beautiful, wanting nothing more than to please me. I spread my legs still wider. I rolled my hips more aggressively. As if she were inside my head, inside my body, she matched my motions, my wonderful terrible overwhelming need for her tongue with long deep strokes into my cunt. Her nose rubbed my clit. Then she lifted her head placing her wet chin over my opening, letting her tongue make love to my clit. Her breath fanned my flames. I made sounds from somewhere deep within me. The shrieks and moans did not seem to come from my throat. The sobs, the whimpers, it all came from somewhere else, somewhere farther inside me. I did not care what I looked like. I did not care what I sounded like. I did not care. I did not. I did. I just did. I moaned and writhed and clenched. Mouth opening, legs opening, cunt opening. Wider. The orgasm built, slowly, deeply, hugely. This was not the soft whimpering cum we had shared minutes before. This was a tidal wave, a tsunami washing over me, a spasm that grabbed my belly, rolled through me over and over, bigger each time until I swore I could not stand anymore pleasure; but it did not end there, it continued, forever, and I rode it with my body heaving, wailing, moaning, keening my bottomless pleasure until, after forever, beyond time, I fell, flat on the bed her wet face kissing my thighs, lost somewhere beyond the real in a place I had never dreamed possible. Shuddering. Twitching. Sobbing tears of ecstasy. Dear god in heaven, I did not know you had made us capable of such feelings, such incredible pleasure. I am lost in them. Linda slowly slid onto the bed beside me. She held me. She wrapped me in her warmth and affection, and I continued to sob as the spasms shook me, after shocks, tiny orgasms, again and again, simply from the feeling of her body beside mine. I fell asleep in her embrace, dreaming I was riding a giant black mare who galloped through the air, thousands of feet above a dark forest, her gate like that of a rocking chair, a huge but gentle beast who would take me to a place of great beauty. I dreamed I was asleep, on a silk-sheeted bed, surrounded by women whose faces I could not see, but who, I could sense, stared at my naked body with such intensity it was frightening. I dreamed they began touching me, everywhere. And then, I stopped dreaming and fell into the calm, dark, quiet, of deep and restful dreamless sleep. Some Tourist... Ch. 3 I must have forgotten where I was, my sleep had been so deep, so restful, so wonderfully luxurious! At first I just sort of rolled over, softly sighing. Then I felt the satin of the kimono on my back and shoulders and remembered: I was in Linda's room, in Linda's bed, and if I was going to be honest about it, in Linda's power. She had so utterly seduced me with her gentle persuasion, with the gifts of pleasure she'd given me, that I'd do anything to have more. I began to remember the touching, the rubbing, the wonderful way she'd kissed and licked my eager cunt, the way I'd cum with her, oh boy yes, the way I'd cum! Shaking. Sobbing. Moaning. Whimpering like a baby. The room was now darker than it was when I'd fallen asleep. The sun had gone down. A single lamp was glowing beside the wing chair. Linda was sitting there, staring at me. "Sleep well, little one?" she asked, smiling. With a slightly muffled voice, a voice that struggled to rise with me into consciousness I answered with a soft moan, "Mmmmm. Yes. Yes, I did." "I'm glad you woke up. If you hadn't, I'd have come over to wake you myself." "Why don't you come to bed now?" I asked, smiling, hinting, asking without asking for more of the touching and kissing. "I would love to little one, but we haven't time. The party will start in a little while and we have to get you ready . . ." Oh yes, the party! The favor she'd asked. The event I was brought here for, to be the star attraction. I'd almost forgotten. Linda had said, " . . . trust me," and I guess, by now, I did. Completely. Otherwise, why would I still be in her room, wearing only a scanty silk kimono, and a big smile? "Audrey, I thought you might like to bathe before the party. Come on, I'll help you." She walked over to the bed and extended her hand. I took it and sat up. Linda leaned over to kiss me. She smiled a wickedly delicious smile and steadied me as I got out of bed. We walked together into the bathroom. It was steamy. The tub, a big Victorian thing with feet, was full almost to the top with fragrant suds. "Wow!" I thought, "I haven't had a bubble bath since I was a kid!" I let the kimono slide down my shoulders, fall down my back, hang a moment on my bottom, before slipping down my legs to the floor. I lifted my leg to step into the tub. The water was warm, soft; it smelled like perfume, "Like Paris," I thought, and laughed--how the hell would I know? I'd never been more than a hundred miles from home! I lowered myself into the water. Linda kneeled down beside me and began to gently rub my back with a big, soft, natural sponge. She squeezed it and let the fragrant suds and warm water pour over my skin. She lifted the sponge again and gently washed my breasts. She asked me to stand. Slowly, lovingly, she continued, letting the warm solution pour over my tummy, my bottom, down my legs. She gently washed my inner thighs and cunt. I was standing with my back to her, legs spread, hands against the wall. I was getting very excited again, but Linda never lingered anywhere long enough for my arousal to build to a climax. She was washing me, so lovingly, and I was close to begging her to let me cum when she said, "Audrey, dear, hold onto your desire for a bit. Let it build. I'm sure you won't be disappointed with the evening to come." She asked me to turn toward her. Gently placing a razor against my labia, she touched up my shaved pussy, making the skin as smooth as that on my bottom. Again, her touch made me eager for an orgasm. Not saying anything about how I was feeling (I just knew she'd stop if she knew I was trying to cum). I just wallowed in the feeling of her hand smoothing soap on my sensitive vagina, her hand tightening the skin so the razor would cut cleanly, the blade itself as it slid across the wonderfully slippery skin. It was all so incredible. It looked awesome, this wonderful woman on her knees, shaving me, my own naked body glistening with water and suds. And the feeling of her hands working on my body, god! I closed my eyes, and the feelings built, stronger. I tried not to show how close I was to cumming, again. I bit my lip and tried to keep my breathing steady. I did not moan. I didn't even whimper. I just let the feelings grow. And grow. I felt myself beginning to shake, felt the rising sensations deep inside me. Felt myself losing contact with the room, the place, even Linda as I was about to become lost in that incredible feeling. Just as the waves were about to crash, Linda took her hands off me. I was shaking. Never in my life had I been so close, and so eager to cum. Anything in that moment would have sent me over the top--a breath of air, maybe even just a word, a word like, "Yes," but Linda said nothing and the moment subsided uneasily once again into a desperate, smoldering aching want. I stepped out of the tub. Linda patted me dry, letting the soft cotton towel caress my body, everywhere, but never lingering long enough anywhere to allow my feelings to build to an orgasm. It was wonderfully sexy, but somehow restrained. By now, I felt as if I'd cum a thousand times since getting out of bed, but I hadn't actually been allowed that total release once. My mind was emptied of everything but sensations and desires. When I was dry, Linda took a large, soft pad and a tin of scented powder, and gently patted me, covering my skin giving it a soft, satin appearance, adding to the fragrance of the bath the same wonderful scent as that of the bubbles, only a bit stronger, on every part of my body. When she patted me between the legs, I widened my stance, closed my eyes, felt the touch of the soft pad and began to moan softly (what the hell, I thought, not moaning hadn't bought me release, I'll just let go), once again feeling myself building toward an orgasm. This time Linda touched me a bit longer, and I was certain she had changed her mind and wanted me to finally cum. I began pressing my hips toward the wonderfully soft pad, rubbing myself against it, and felt the feelings building rapidly, again. As I began to moan louder, wanting ever so badly the release that would come, that by now I wanted so badly I was almost crying, Linda pulled the pad away. My breath came in short gasps. My entire body was tingling, and my heart was pounding. I begged her to please touch me again, to allow me to touch myself and masturbate for her. I didn't care if it looked awful, I didn't care if she might think I was a terrible, disgusting slut. I just wanted to cum so very very much. Linda just smiled and said. "Wait, dear. Wait a bit longer. I promise you it will be worth your patience." We went back into the bedroom. Linda dressed me, if you want to call it that. There wasn't much to wear. She gently helped me put on a pair of lacy thigh-high stockings, black lace with a repeating rose pattern and a seam up the back, topped with a tight band of solid black about two inches wide. I stepped into a pair of black velvet shoes that were taller than anything I'd ever seen. They lifted me six inches from the floor, made me appear as long legged as a gazelle, accentuated the muscles in my calves and thighs. Around my neck, she placed the inch wide choker, covered with diamonds she had worn earlier in the day. I was curious; I couldn't help asking, "Linda, are these diamonds real?" She smiled and answered, "Oh yes dear, quite real." Over my shoulders she placed what looked like a white dinner jacket, the sort of thing men wear to formal parties with a pleated-front shirt and black bow tie, only I wasn't wearing any shirt, and I wore no tie. In fact, I wore nothing at all under the jacket. The jacket, when buttoned, only just covered the cheeks of my ass. My shaved, powdered and perfumed cunt was barely hidden. While Linda dressed me, her hands were softly touching me. The stockings ended at mid-thigh, but her hands had lingered on the scented powdered skin between my legs, near my most sensitive place. When she fastened the clasp on the necklace, she let her hands slide down my back to softly hold my bottom. She pressed a finger between my legs and I opened myself wider for her. She slid her finger into my slippery cunt from behind, a cunt that had been wet with wanting for what seemed like hours. The orgasm, so close while I was being bathed, that got even closer when Linda dried me, the orgasm that had come so near to sending me over the top when she patted my cunt with the perfumed powder rose again. I found myself begging her out loud, pleading for her to touch me more deliberately, more directly, to bring me across the threshold from need to have, from aching to hard heaving, moaning, wailing ecstasy; but she did not. She let her finger fall from my cunt, her hand from my ass. Again, I trembled, tried to catch my breath, struggled even to stand. It was torture. I would have done anything for her permission to cum. And this torture, while excruciating, was also exquisite. Each time she touched me now, it was an event unlike anything I'd ever felt in my life. Even the feeling of lipstick, so expertly wielded by her experienced hands now seemed more like a tongue exploring my lips than mere makeup being applied. When she arranged my hair, slicking it back with glossy gel, combing it with a wide-toothed comb, making me look like some kind of sex performer in a horribly nasty Berlin cabaret, she kissed my neck, and it sent a shiver straight to my now terribly alert and sensitive cunt. By the time we walked out the door together, I was a bundle of nerves, my entire body had become a sexual organ. I'd never felt so beautiful, so sexy, so aroused, so aware of my body and it's ability to feel, so willing to anything in order to find release. We walked down the hall together, hand in hand, to the elegant Victorian elevator. When it arrived, we entered. There was a person already in there, and we joined him. He was a student I know at school. Dressed as I was, made up as I was, he certainly never would have guessed that I was the quiet girl who sat beside him in class. I assumed that he was working at the hotel for the summer because he was wearing pleated, pressed black pants, a white shirt, and a tie. Nobody around here dresses like that unless they have to! Certainly not the earthy students at the college! My powdered and perfumed body filled the car with the scent of flowers and exotic places. My naked thighs peered out below the jacket, above my unbelievably sexy stockings. My tilted feet lifted me to equal his height. The jacket I wore barely covered my breasts. My nearly naked legs, my partially exposed breasts were impossible for him not to see. My scent and look, my clear state of arousal were all thrown in that poor boy's face! I imagine it was pretty obvious I wasn't wearing anything underneath the jacket. He tried, in vain, not to stare. He tried, but failed, not to show how quickly the sight and scent of me had brought his own need for relief racing to the surface, the blood flowing into his penis. It was hopeless. I watched his erection grow. He couldn't cover it up, no mater how hard he tried. Finally, he gave up and just stared at me, his jaw slack, his mouth half open. I knew that I was making him crazy, that I was driving him mad. Something about the obviousness of his overwhelming need, his blatant urge and discomfort got me even more excited. I wanted to exploit my power to create sexual desire, to push it as far as I could; because, I realized, the very idea that I could make another person ache so in wanting me made my own ache grow tremendously. My cunt was getting still wetter. My heart was racing, faster. I thought I might cum without touching myself from the sheer power of the past few hours, the building excitement I'd been feeling for so long. The arousal just kept building. The elevator was an old one, and it moved very slowly. As it creaked and clanked down to the lobby, I leaned toward Linda, opened my jacket, and put her hand on my breast; mouth wide open, I kissed her. I let my tongue trace her lips before taking her face into my hands and holding it, cupping her chin and cheeks, sucking her tongue deep into my mouth, moaning softly, letting my legs spread so that my cunt was open. I took my hand from her face and ran it across my cunt, wetting it with my lubrication, shuddering with the feeling. When I stopped kissing her, I turned suddenly, looked deeply into the poor boy's eyes and smiled a wicked smile. There was a flicker of recognition. I could almost hear him thinking, "That can't be Audrey!" I think he was probably about to explode. Before the door opened I seductively wiped my cunt-wet finger--a finger covered with the scent of my sex and my arousal--slowly, across his parted lips. He leaned forward, eyes closed and inhaled. Then, I let the same hand slide across his pants, softly squeezing his bulge. When I did that, I saw felt penis lurch beneath his pants, and the spot where it pushed the fabric into a giant lump became wet, the dark, wet spot growing as the lump lurched in response to his uncontrollable spasms. He turned bright red. I could tell he was terribly embarrassed. "I am fucking deadly!" I thought, and buttoned my jacket. The door opened and we left him there to deal with his wet pants and embarrassment. Some Tourist... Ch. 4 Somehow, we walked through the lobby into a private conference room without further encounters. There was an attractive but large, muscular woman at the door. She smiled at Linda as if they knew each other very well and opened the door for us. When it opened, a beautifully carved wooden screen appeared about four feet back. The screen blocked the view of anyone who might try to peer through the open door. We walked around the screen and an amazing scene greeted my eyes. Inside the room soft light glowed from dimmed crystal chandeliers. Six women were standing in a loose circle, chatting. Like Linda, they all appeared to be middle aged. Each was dressed beautifully, and shockingly. Their dresses, like Linda's, were split up the front. When we were walking down the hall, while we were in the elevator, Linda had kept her dress gathered around her, but once we entered the hall she had freed the fabric from the clasp that had been holding it together and it fell away from her legs. Now, like the others, her partly stockinged legs, her bare thighs, and her naked cunt were all visible! Her dress opened all the way up to her navel! The sight of those women dressed like that was amazing. But they acted as if they were at an ordinary party. They were mingling with each other, chatting, eating from small china plates they held in their hands. Drinking wine from crystal. The room appeared to be a library, of sorts. The walls were lined with glass-covered wooden bookcases that were filled with leather bound books. What wall space did not contain books was paneled in dark walnut that matched the book cases. In the middle of the room there was a round table with six leather chairs placed evenly around its perimeter. In a space between two chairs, a set of wooden stairs lead to the table top. There were no place settings, no water glasses, no wine glasses, no linens on the table. It dawned on me that this was not where we would be having our meal. This was not a table. It was a stage. Two pretty young women roamed the room, serving. One carried a silver serving dish that appeared to contain the most wonderfully exotic hors d'oeuvres. Some of the appetizers appeared to be tiny pates, molded into the shapes of naked women making love. Another pretty woman walked through the room refilling glasses with wine from two bottles that appeared to have French labels. I'd waited tables enough in my college career to recognize French wine labels, and while I was certainly no expert, I knew that such wine was not cheap. What was most amazing, though, was the fact that both of the servers were naked, except for a very tiny white apron, a small lace ribbon in her hair, and heels. "How did you ever get the hotel staff to dress like that," and where did they find two such beautiful women willing to do it?" I asked Linda. "Silly girl," she laughed. "These lovely girls work for us. They cater and serve at all of our affairs. We brought them with us." The amount of effort, money, and thought that went into this gathering was only just becoming evident to me. And, it was only then that I remembered what Linda had said, that I was the reason the they were all there. She had said, " . . . trust me." But it was beginning to overwhelm me. How could I ever be beautiful enough, interesting enough, sexy enough to deserve their interest, to deserve all of this? But another emotion was raging, along with my insecurities. For the first time in my life, I began to feel truly powerful. After all, Linda, a clearly sophisticated, wealthy woman with exotic sexual appetites and a world of sexual experience had fallen head over heels for me. She had dressed me, prepared me specifically to please her friends. She believed I would be able to thrill them, and now, scented with expensive perfume, dressed as she believed I should be, my naked skin powdered to a lovely soft sheen, I understood that I was to be presented for their pleasure, and I began to believe that maybe I was the incredibly desirable person that Linda believed me to be. The woman who had opened the door for us had come into the room. She had locked the door behind her. Walking over to me she smiled and said, "May I take your jacket?" I knew I was naked beneath it, but I smiled back at her, unbuttoned the jacket and let her slide it from my shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Linda took my hand, and squeezed it. Together we joined her friends. The conversation, amazingly, was ordinary. They asked each other how they had been, what they had been doing since their last meeting. All the while, as they spoke, as they shifted their weight from one leg to the other, they were exposed from the tummy down! I was standing there, smiling, holding Linda's hand, nearly naked. But although the conversation was apparently mundane, my thoughts were not. The two girls who were serving were really cute. I felt myself getting very aroused, again. Every now and then one of the women would look at me and her eyes would linger on my body. I would see her and know that the sight of me was pleasant to her. I liked that, very much. The servers had set down the tray and the wine bottles. They were standing just outside the conversation with their hands behind their backs. They stood, quietly, attentively. I couldn't help looking at them. One of them smiled at me. I smiled back. She was so cute. I couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to kiss her. She had tiny little breasts, but her nipples were very large, almost swollen. I'd hadn't seen breasts like that since middle school when we were all just beginning to develop and some of us had big, soft nipples before we really had much in the way of breasts. For some reason I found them inceredibly sexy on a girl my age. I wanted to kiss her very badly, to hold her. I wanted to feel her breasts against mine, kiss them. I wanted to feel her warm skin against mine. Her soft lips on mine. I wanted to feel her smooth, shaved cunt rubbing against mine. I wanted . . . "And you, dear, what do you do?" I heard one of Linda's friend's ask, taking me out of my revery. "I, I'm a student," I stammered, lost in my fantasy . I turned to look at the woman who had asked me the question. She had come near me, and she was very close. Her leg was touching mine, and I could feel it's warmth. She put her hand on my back, letting it rest in the hollow between back and bottom, then moving it softly down, across my naked tush until it was gently caressing me there. The back of her other hand grazed my breast, so softly I barely felt it until it crossed my nipple which immediately stiffened. I turned to look at Linda, afraid she might be angry with me, jealous, but she smiled and mouthed a silent, "It's okay . . ." Another of Linda's friends came close. She began touching me as well. Softly. And she too spoke to me. "What are you studying dear?" "English, and, and writing. I, I want to be a writer . . ." My voice was weak. I was breathing harder than normal because the second woman had by now lightly touched my cunt, sliding a finger slowly up and down in my wet and slippery crack. They kept making small talk, all the while touching me and squeezing me. My legs were shaky. I was finding it very hard to speak. The serving girls remained nearby, silent, their hands behind their backs, watching. The women who weren't touching me were also watching. I could see that what was happening was making them almost as excited as it was making me. Some of them were touching themselves, their hands placed quietly between their legs! I couldn't believe what was happening to me. It was like an incredibly erotic dream, only it was real. Very real. Wonderfully real. Another of Linda's friends stood in front of me. The other two were still touching me. The conversation had ceased. I could feel their hands on my body. A hand gently sliding up and down my cunt which was getting wetter, sometimes touching my now exposed clit. The woman who had just come to be near me closed her eyes and inhaled. She was smelling my perfume, perfume now mixed with the scent of my body. When she opened her eyes, she stared into mine and leaned forward to kiss me. I opened my mouth and felt her soft lips on mine. Her tongue, touching first my lips, then searching for my tongue. I met her tongue with mine and they danced. All the while the hands on me, in me . . . it was so wonderful. My legs spread wider, opening me to the women, who continued touching and kissing. By now I could not tell who was doing what to me. Another woman had knelt between my legs. She was kissing my thighs, and higher. The hand on my clit moved faster. My knees were very shaky. Their hands were all over me. Then, one by one, Linda's friends gradually stopped touching me, stopped kissing me, stopped probing me, stopped inhaling the stronger and stronger scent of me. They slowly moved away. Linda came to me, and kissed me. Then they took places in the leather chairs at the table. I was breathless, and shaky. Somehow it was clear that I would decide what happened next. I walked over to the lovely serving girl with the large, swollen nipples. I took her hand and led her up onto the stage. Somewhere, deep inside, I sensed why I was there, who they were, who I was to them. It's not as if all this ran through my mind in an orderly fashion. How could it? My legs were shaking. I was trembling. I was on the verge of cumming, yet again, after ages on the edge so fucking excited I thought I would die if Linda wouldn't finally let me cum. But she hadn't, not for hours. She'd touched me. Teased me. Washed me. Perfumed and powdered me. Dressed me like a cabaret sex performer, with wicked makeup, bright red lipstick, hair slicked back and shiny. And now I was walking onto a stage with another, young, also practically naked woman after these other women had touched me and smelled me. I saw their eyes while they were doing that; watched them breathe; felt them shiver with excitement. I knew, somehow, that they had done so much, professionally, sexually; I knew that they shared this club, a thing I guessed they had created out of progressively more exotic sexual lives and desires, from an urgent and growing need to push their passions as far as they could, and with the means to push it very far indeed. And now, one of them had chosen me to excite them. The very thought of it thrilled me beyond belief. Below me, seven powerful women sat in a circle, in leather chairs, wearing dresses that, when they sat down and let the hems fall away, left them wickedly exposed. It was like a scene from decadent Berlin in the thirties; a nasty, sexy, wonderful scene. Performance is a funny thing. I've done a lot of theater--in high school and college. I guess it suited the exhibitionist in me. I've done it both well and poorly. When you do theater, you can "act." You can say your lines at the right time, speak with good projection and diction, move where and when you are supposed to, do everything right and watch the play fall flat on its face. Or, you can lose yourself in the play. Speaking not lines, but with the other characters, from your heart and with your body--having become not an actor but a person in a place doing the thing the player does. You can forget where you are, who you are, and become what the character truly is. And if those on stage with you are swept into your passion, the play ceases to be a play, for you, for the other actors, for the audience. It becomes something else entirely. It becomes real. That evening I did not act as if I were a cabaret performer in a nasty sex act. I became that person. And so did the girl on stage with me. Our audience was swept along, taken for the ride I now understood Linda had sensed the first day she saw me waiting tables I might be able to take them on. I did it for her. I did it for them. Mostly, though, I did it for myself and in the doing I found the release Linda had so wisely withheld for so long. And in the doing of it I discovered a "me" that had been there all along, waiting for an opportunity to emerge, wailing, exalting in delicious ecstasy. Standing, spreading my legs wide, I turned to the cute girl I had so longed to kiss. I took her face in my hands and kissed her like I had never kissed a girl before. No soft start, no questioning probe as if to ask, "Will we go farther than this kiss?" I knew where it would go. I did not ask her with my kiss. I told her. Taking her face between my hands, I opened my mouth wide, kissed her passionately, letting my tongue go deep into her mouth. I pressed my hips against hers, pressed my breasts against hers, those wonderfully tiny breasts with the large, swollen nipples. I lowered my lips, pulled one deliciously large, soft nipple into my mouth, and sucked. And sucked, while pushing my thigh between her legs, feeling her slippery smooth cunt on my bare skin. She moaned, softly. I looked down at the women who were watching, all of them were staring with wide eyes. These worldly women were transfixed. All of them were masturbating as they watched! It was as if they were watching a movie, a dirty movie together; but this was no movie. It was real. The sight, the sounds, the scents were real, unpredictable. Hot! I took her hips in my hands and guided her, moving her up and down as she slid her cunt across my leg, rising up and down as she slid it against me. I pressed my thigh harder into her wet cunt,, my hands squeezing her ass, my mouth wildly kissing and sucking at her breasts. She began to moan more loudly, rising up and down, faster and faster. As her breath quickened, I pulled her against me, motionless, and she shook. I knew she had nearly cum. I held her still, and her passion uneasily walked away from the line she had so nearly crossed. I kissed her lips again. This time, more softly. I let my hands explore her beautiful body. She was shuddering, making tiny little sounds like a cat. I'd never had a lover my own age who was so strikingly beautiful. My girlfriend, my only female partner before Linda had been my roommate, a dear friend who I adored, but one I never thought of as particularly beautiful. She was lovely. I adored her. With her it was deep affection. Warm, sweet, cuddly love. With this girl, it was lust. Naked lust. Pure and simple. It was blistering heat. I stared at her. I wanted to make her cum like she'd never cum before. I lowered my lips again to her breasts, kissing and sucking, hands cupping them. I kissed down her gorgeous muscular tummy. I kissed her thighs as if they were her mouth, my tongue probing, tickling her skin. I urged her with my hands to spread her legs, and she did. I kissed her cunt, softly at first. My tongue teasing it, gently parting the lips, exposing the folds that hid her clit. I pressed my mouth into her, pushing my tongue into her as far as I could, in and out, fucking her with it like a hard, wet penis. She was moaning louder now. I moved my face up higher, rocking on my own wide spread knees. My own cunt and ass lifted and exposed to the women who watched us. My breasts heaved with my motion and I could feel them swaying. I found her clit with my tongue, sucked it into my lips, and began to lick it with long, slow strokes. Her moaning grew even louder. Her stance became more wobbly, but she remained standing, somehow. Faster and faster I licked her. Her scent was wonderful, a mixture of perfume and musk, her own natural musk, like wet forest mushrooms. As her moans grew into wails, with her eyes wide and staring at me, I pulled away slightly, my tongue alone contacting her clit, flicking across it faster and faster. Her belly began to swell and roll. She was pulling her tiny breasts, her thumbs and forefingers pinching her huge nipples, tugging them upward. Her mouth was wide open and a deep, guttural moan was growing louder and louder. When she came, she cried out. She shook for what seemed like forever. Resting her weight on my shoulders with her palms pressed hard against me, her fingers curled back. Then he sobbed softly. I kissed her cunt until she stopped trembling. Every now and then she would shake with a tiny tremor. When she did, her fingers bit into my shoulders. She lowered herself to the stage and began kissing me, savagely. I'd never been kissed like that. She bit at my lips, licked my neck and breasts. I arched my back to put my breasts closer to her eager mouth. She sucked my breasts into her mouth, alternately, kissing, sucking, biting. All the while her hands were flying across my body. Her stomach was between my legs and I was grinding my cunt into her hard belly. I felt as if a lioness were preparing to make dinner of me, she was so wild. My lovers had always been so gentle before, at least the two women I'd been with. I'd come to expect a woman lover to be that way, thought it would always be that way, and even thought I wanted it to always be that way. But this was incredible. After almost cumming a hundred times, after aching with desire for hours, this was what I needed, and I didn't even know it until I was in the middle of it. I grabbed her hair in my fingers, threw my head back and groaned. Her head moved faster, kissing me frantically, licking me with her tongue as if my whole body was an ice cream cone or something. And all the while, those wonderful hands were touching, pressing, sliding, grabbing, tugging at me. Her skin on my cunt, her belly heaving with her hot breathing, was rubbing against my whole cunt, between my lips, across my exposed and sensitive clit. I felt like she was fucking me with her body. I was cumming little cums, moaning. She slid down my body, continuing her hot, frantic, passionate pace. Without letup, as if this was the moment my whole day had been building toward and there was no need, no desire to postpone pleasure a second longer, she buried her face between my legs and sucked my clit into her mouth, rubbing it with her tongue, tugging it with her lips. My ass was wet with my own excitement, and with her saliva that was dripping into my crack. I felt her finger slip into it, and enter. As she was sucking and nibbling my clit, she began fucking my ass with her finger. I'd never felt that before, could not imagine how powerfully it would explode inside me. I came harder, moaning louder and louder, writhing on the stage totally lost in the heaving, shrieking, hair clenching, mouth wailing, hissing, cumming. Oh god it was huge. So big, so long. So intense. It lasted forever, and as I was beginning to come down again, she fucked my ass faster and licked me even harder and faster, squeezing my nipple, hard, with her other hand, and wailing with me, the vibrations of her voice rippling across my clit. I came again, harder, thrashing even more wildly. It was like nothing, nothing in the world I could have foreseen and certainly beyond anything I'd ever felt in my life. I struggled to catch my breath as the big orgasms finally subsided and small orgasms continued to roll over me. Smaller, and smaller ones, until I was laying there, gasping. My lover, my wonderful lover looked up at me and licked her lips with a wicked smile on her face. I realized, I didn't even know her name. I realized too, after having forgotten, that a roomful of women had been watching. Quietly at first, then more loudly, they began to applaud. I looked up for the first time in some time, and smiled at each of them. Linda was beaming. The woman who had been guarding the door, who locked it earlier, who took my jacket, was now serving the women steaming hot, moist towels from a tray. They were wiping themselves with them. She leaned over the stage and offered some to us as well. Clearly, the women had all masturbated while we were making love. They wiped themselves, their cunts, their thighs, their hands, as if they were simply cleaning up before dinner, and, in a way, I guess they were. My lover and I cleaned up as well.