“You mean you want us to go off by couples to look at them?” Phil asked eagerly.
“No. You’re always in too much of a hurry, Phil. I simply meant we’d pair off here and pass them around. I’ll stay with Steve here. Barry can sit next to Hortense. Phil and Elsa and George and Ingrid can form two-somes.”
Everybody shifted around, and then Helen produced a packet of about forty four-by-five photos, all of which were in color. She handed them out, kept some for herself, and then sat back down alongside of me. Our thighs brushed as she leaned close to show me the first picture.
It was quite a picture. It featured a lovely young brunette with her skirt pulled up over her hips. She was wearing no underwear, and a man knelt in front of her. The man’s lips were pursed and very close to the clean-shaven area just below her smooth belly. One of the girl’s hands was tangled in his hair, and there was a rapturous look on her face.
Helen stroked my thigh quickly, and then went on to the next picture. It was the same couple, only with the situation reversed. Now the man was naked from the waist down and the girl knelt in front of him. His excitation was immense, and her cheeks were stretched wide to encompass it.
In the next picture, both man and girl were completely nude. The girl was crouched over him, her large breasts grazing his shins, her lips fastened to him securely. His head was raised slightly in an effort to return the favor.
“How do you like that, Steve?” Helen asked, her lips hot and moist against my ear.
“Delightful,” I told her.
“Later,” she promised, “I’ll show you some things that are even more delightful."
The same girl was in the next picture, but the man had been replaced by a second girl, a blonde. The original brunette had her mouth pressed to one of the blonde’s breasts. The nipple of the other breast stood out a good three-quarters of an inch, and the roseate framing it had turned a flaming red which covered a wide area.
The pictures continued. The two girls performed various acts, then the two men. Then, breathing heavily, Helen exchanged photos with George. The second set of pictures involved yet another couple. The original couple had gotten together with them for these photos and the results were complicated, but well-patterned and practical.
The next two batches of pictures were extreme close-ups involving all six people. As with the other photos, the emphasis remained on oral acts. And there seemed no part of the body which these people had deemed inedible.
“They would like us to send some photos in exchange,” Helen announced when we’d finished looking at the pictures. “I thought we might take some at our next meeting, but not tonight. George and I have other things planned for tonight.”
“I should hope so,” Phil said. “Somehow, I’m always the one who gets stuck taking the pictures.”
“Well, you are a photographer,” his wife Ingrid reminded him.
“A baby photographer,” he protested. “And while this sort of thing might not be exactly a busman’s holiday, I’d rather participate in the activities than record them.”
“All right, smarty, since you’re so anxious, you can be the first one to try this new game I’ve devised,” Helen told Phil. “If you win, you can have your pick of any mouth in the room. ”
“Okay,” Phil said. “I’m game. How do I play?”
“George will blindfold you and tie your hands behind your back,” Helen told him. “Then each of the women in turn will offer a breast to your mouth only. The length or time it remains will be strictly up to the individual girl. Your object is to identify each of the four of us after it’s all over. If you get us right in one-two-three-four order, then you win.”
“Do I have to tell right from left?” Phil asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Helen laughed,
George blindfolded Phil and tied his hands behind his back. Then he led him over to a chair and seated him across the room from the rest of us. Silently, Helen indicated to the other three women the order in which they were to approach him.
Elsa was first. She unbuttoned her dress and pushed down one side of her bra. The breast she revealed was small but high-slung and with a full, sweeping curve to it. The nipple was a mahogany-brown color, the roseate a delicate tan.
She approached Phil from the side, put her hand under the breast and pushed it in his mouth. Phil’s cheeks seemed to pulsate and his lips worked eagerly. Elsa rocked back and forth as she stood in front of him, bending slightly so that as much of her breast as possible would be encompassed. Finally, she clutched her knees together, released a high-pitched giggle and then pulled away.
“Well, that one was easy,” Phil said.
Helen shook her head disapprovingly at Elsa as she rearranged her bra and sat back down. Then she approached Phil herself, as if to show the way it should be done. Her dress had a zipper down the back, and Helen pulled it as she walked across the room. The petite blonde let the top fall to her hips. She wore a slip, but no bra under it. She shrugged one of the slip straps from her shoulder and pushed the breast-flesh out to the side. The breast itself wasn’t much larger than Elsa’s had been, but it was shaped differently. It was rounder, and the tip was very long. There was no visible roseate, but the tip was scarlet.
It quivered just before she presented it to, Phi1’s lips. Helen only let him sample the tip. When he moved forward to try for more, she moved away and prevented him from getting it. Also, she purposely brushed his cheek with the side of the breast. I realized that by pushing the flesh out that way, Helen was trying to make Phil mistake it for someone else’s. Undoubtedly, to a blindfolded man, it would seem much larger than it was.
Helen didn’t even try to duplicate the thrill Elsa had gotten. She stood there for about two minutes, very businesslike, and then backed away. Phil looked puzzled after she left.
Ingrid was next. She didn’t have to push down the top of her red dress very far to expose both breasts. They were large and round, with a deep cleavage between them. The roseates were also large, pink, and indistinguishable from the nipples, which weren’t extended.
As she approached her husband, Helen signaled to her to toss her hair behind her back so that he wouldn’t be able to identify her that way. Ingrid followed the suggestion and then offered one breast to Phil’s lips. As soon as he had it, she pulled it away. She repeated the maneuver again and again, rhythmically. Watching, I noticed that the tips widened and grew darker in color, but still the nipples didn’t distend.
“I know my wife,” Phil said positively when Ingrid pulled away for good.
Hortense was last-—but definitely not least. She was even larger than Ingrid. Her nipples were bright red and straining even before she reached Phil. They tapered perfectly from roseates that were only a shade less bright. Following Helen’s example, she allowed his lips to fasten only on the breast-tip itself. I don’t know whether she was putting them on or not, but her hips moved rhythmically all the time she stood there, and she actually did a little bump-and-grind before she moved away.
“Well, Phil?” Helen asked then.
“Elsa was first. I’m sure of that. And my wife was third. But I have to admit I’m guessing with the other two.” He paused and then made his guess. “Hortense was second, Helen last,” he said.
“Wrong!” George laughed. “It was the other way around. Helen fooled you. You lose.” He walked over to Phil and untied his hands.
“Damn!” Phil said as he took off the blindfold. “When the hell did you get so big?” he asked Helen accusingly.