"Did you ever go down on a woman, Aggie?" she asked in a husky purr. "Would you like to eat me? They tell me I have the juiciest, spiciest cunt that ever was, that it drips with honey and wine and all that groovy stuff. Look at how rosy and swollen it is." She raised herself slightly off Rodney's face so his wife could get a clearer view of what he was licking.
"Agatha, I hope you'll try to understand…" Price got out, before his mouth was filled again with Marcy's succulent flesh.
Rodney's voice apparently roused Agatha from her stupor, and she came bearing down on them like a berserk Sherman tank. "Get away from my husband, you bitch! Let him up!" Her hands were doubled into fists, and her eyes flashed fire.
"Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," Marcy said under her breath. "Just let me get my hands on you and it won't take me long to have you begging to be fucked!"
Agatha Price's fingers curved into claws as she reached for Marcy's hair, but Marcy was younger and quicker. Like a snake striking, her arms went around Mrs. Price's hips, pulling the woman toward her. Her head went down, and she buried her face where the dress stretched taut across the woman's upper thighs and lower belly. For a moment, she was afraid her plan would be foiled by the heavy girdle she could feel under the dress. But as her mouth slid downward, she felt the warmth of the hair-covered cunt under thinner layers of material.
"What – what are you doing? Let go of me, you dirty bitch!" Mrs. Price grabbed handfuls of Marcy's hair, and was trying to drag the hot mouth away from her body.
Marcy hung on, her mouth hot and wet against the pink dress. Her breath was like a furnace, and she was using it all-out effort to transmit the urgency of lustful message.
"Let go of me! Get your mouth off my – my…" Mrs. Price couldn't bring herself to say the word that referred to her genital area. She yanked at Marcy's hair, but her determination seemed to wilt slightly as the blast of Marcy's steaming breath seeped through the intervening cloth and hit her pussy.
"Oh, no… no… no!" the woman groaned, pounding her fists on Marcy's shoulders. "Stop that! Stop it this minute!"
"You don't mean that, Aggie," Marcy said. "You want me to eat you. You want my tongue shoved up that sultry cunt, don't you?"
"No, no, no! You perverted, immoral hussy, let go of me! Don't do that! You're getting me all wet!"
"You're getting yourself all wet, Aggie. Your cunt is starting to juice up, and in another minute it will be simmering, and you won't be able to resist raising your skirt and – here, let me lift it for you."
Marty's hands let go of the tightly girdled buttocks and slipped to the hem of the dress and up under it. Her fingers slithered up over the stocking tops to the bare flesh above. She lifted the skirt, revealing the woman's legs to her own gaze and also to that of the helpless Rodney, as he stared upward through the pale forest of Marcy's pubic hair.
"Not bad. Nice and firm. You've taken good care of your body," Marcy said approvingly, sliding her hands higher and lifting the skirt with them. Supporters held the stockings taut to the girdle, and pink silk panties concealed the color of the cunt hair beneath, but at the same time revealed a startling fact – the cloth was sopping and fragrant with woman juice.
"Let me alone, you little whore! You haven't any right to assault me like this! I'm not like my husband! I'm not interested in sex – not with a man, much less with a woman!"
"You're lying, Aggie, and you know it," Marcy said, poking her head under the skirt and kissing the bare thigh as she moved her lips up to where a few strands of pubic hair straggled from under the edge of the pink panties. Marcy licked at the hair, tasting the salty tang of the woman's juices while she ground her own cunt against Rodney's active tongue. It was a situation admirably suited to Marcy's newly discovered penchant for bizarre sexual involvements.
"Please… please, let me go!" the older woman begged. "You don't understand. I'm no lesbian. I've never been much interested in sex and…"
"You can say that again!" Rodney muttered from beneath Marcy's golden pussy.
"I'm too old to start now. I'm past the age for…"
"It's never too late for sex," said Marcy. "Everyone craves a full and varied sex life. The most cynical intellectual, the coldest and most astute banker, the nun in the convent, the bishop in his palace, all long for the pleasures of creative and varied sex." Marcy knew she was quoting Dr. Villiers almost word for word, but she didn't care. "Even you, Mrs. Price. Behind that haughty stare and disdainful nose, under that tight girdle, beyond those compressed lips, is a deep longing for sex of a thousand and one delicious kinds."
"No, no! I'm a lady! A New England lady! I'm better than other people! Better than my husband! I hate that sweaty groping between the sheets! I have no desire to be the target for a dirty old prick!"
Marcy yanked at the dress until she got it off over the woman's head and left her standing there breathing heavily. She was half leaning against Marcy's face while she tried to will herself back under control.
"Admit it, Mrs. Price," Marcy whispered, looking up at the woman's corset. "If you're not interested in sex, how come the show-off underwear and the expensive panties?" She darted her tongue under the edge of the latter, stabbing at the plump cunt mound and licking the curly hair.
"Don't do that. I'm too old and dried up to enjoy anything. There's no sensation – nothing. Maybe that's why Rod has played around so much. No one has any use for a dried-up cunt."
"It's not dried up now," Marcy reported. "There are droplets of juice all over your hair. It's outasite! You are a little bit tight though, almost like a virgin. Wow, how about that? A forty-plus virgin!"
"Please don't do that, Marcy. It is most unpleasant," Mrs. Price said. But her breathing was still labored, her breasts heaving with emotion of some kind.
"Is it really?" Marcy asked. "A friendly little tongue is unpleasant? I don't believe it. How can you possibly not like having someone run their tongue all over your mound? Just wait till it finds its way into your actual cunt or your clit."
"I don't have any clitoris," the woman said stiffly. "Never did have one. Never wanted one either."
"What nonsense! Of course you have one, you just never admitted it was there. I'll find it, don't worry. And if I don't, I'll make one for you."
"Don't be silly, child. How could you?"
"I can do anything sexwise, Mrs. Price," Marcy said. "I'm a supergirl as far as sex is concerned. For twenty-two years I kept my libido so bottled up that it grew and grew and grew, until it was like a great crouching monster waiting to break loose and devour the world – at least every cock and cunt in the world."
"I think you're crazy," Mrs. Price said, but her voice had softened considerably. "Your intentions may be good, and you are a lovely child, but you're…"
"And you have a lovely cunt, Aggie," Marcy said. "I don't understand why Rodney wouldn't eat it."
"She wouldn't let me," Rodney said. "When I tried, she said it was obscene, that I was just using her as a sex object, that I didn't recognize her worth as a person. The woman within, I think she called it."
"But, Mrs. Price, the woman within is in here. It's deep down in the very depths, under all the layers and folds of flesh. It's hiding down here in the pool of your lust." Marcy had pushed the pink panties aside and was working on the woman's cunt.
Mrs. Price shivered at what the girl was doing, and her resistance dissolved. "Oh, Marcy… Marcy," she groaned, her fingers stroking Marcy's hair and her knees leaning against Marcy's shoulders in her eagerness to welcome the knowledgeable, loving tongue into her secret recesses. "If I had only known."