With exquisite, tantalising slowness, she peeled the lips completely open, holding them apart with the fingers of both hands for Jean's greedy inspection. Then, as the woman stared with increasing pleasure at the innocent but somehow maddening sex (feeling a growing desire to plunge her mouth against the pink softness and bite and tear at the sweetly perfumed inner flesh), Monique boldly started to jiggle the lips up and down…
She pulled them with alternate movements of her fingers, making the plump folds rub provocatively together — then stretch elastically away from each other in a thrilling and violently arousing exposure.
Jean half-unconsciously put her own hand out and moved it over Monique's breast. Not taking her eyes away from the girl's self-fondling, she rubbed Monique's nipple, quickly bringing the teat to an enormously ripe swelling. Her thumb and forefinger met around the base of the cherry, squeezing quite punishingly — drawing the tightly held nipple upwards away from Monique's bosom.
Under her fingers the girl's breast swayed softly, a plump young melon which wobbled in whichever direction she chose. Jean could feel her thighs sticking together and realised that she had already lost some warm juices…
Monique, meanwhile, was beginning to dip both her forefingers into the tight orifice of her sex. She had to twist them around in a series of circular movements in order not to damage her still intact hymen; the fingers would sink inwards to the second joint, then slowly emerge again — each time covered with a liquid film of young spunk.
At last the girl succeeded in penetrating herself completely. Her forefingers disappeared to their hilt between the slick lips of her quim and she began to drive them rhythmically in and out… slowly, easily, without the slightest haste — giving Jean all the time in the world to savour every movement.
“Oh, that looks so beautiful!” Jean exclaimed. She ran her tongue quickly over her parched lips. “I've never seen a girl doing that to herself before… you touch yourself so cleverly, my darling!” $ Monique wriggled one finger out of her quim. She put it up to Jean's face deliberately — offering the woman the fruits of her sex without saying a word.
Jean bent her mouth forward and sucked the long, slim finger between her lips. She licked her tongue slowly around it, tasting the pungent, slightly bitter juices which adhered to Monique's finger. She drew hard on it, feeling the nail sharp against the roof of her mouth. Her eyes closed in sheer bliss…
Firmly and insistently, Monique started to pull her finger free. And when Jean looked at her, dismay spreading over her face, the French girl whispered: “You must get some more for yourself, Jean!” Despite her boldness, Jean saw that Monique's cheeks were pink and blushing. Her full, lipstick-free mouth was parted and the lips were well-moistened — the light from the window catching them and giving them the appearance of being wetter than they actually were.
Although Monique's intention was not absolutely clear from her choice of words, Jean had not the smallest doubt that she was being invited to kiss and mouth the French girl — her lips taking the place of Monique's fingers., She slid her hand off the plump young breast, giving the nipple a final tweak. Her fingers passed right down the curve of Monique's waist, caressed briefly but excitingly at the sleek, fleshy hip… then came to rest on the satin-soft inside of he girl's right thigh.
Jean was more aroused than she could ever remember, every part of her afire with wild, passionate longing. Her body was trembling so much that? she had difficulty in working herself into position between Monique's thighs. She lifted the girl's legs up and placed them over her shoulders, deliberately keeping her eyes averted from Monique's. It was all she could do to move herself into such an outrageous and blatant attitude, and her resolve was growing weaker despite the fierce desire which was driving her on.
For one terrifying moment, Jean felt that she couldn't continue: what she was doing was completely against her nature, it was obscene… unnatural… She wasn't a lesbian! She wasn't! She -
And then the warm feel of Monique's soft under-thighs against her fingers checked her panic. Jean forced herself to look down at the totally exposed cunt which Monique was presenting to her.
It really was so pretty, she thought. So sweet, so very tempting! Her face moved as if by its own volition nearer and nearer to the rawly open quim its lips stretched wide apart and its complex of vulnerable flesh defencelessly yielding up its deepest secrets.
She kissed the very centre of Monique's cunt, pursing her lips and pressing them closely into the heart of the girl's precious treasure. The intimate musk came strongly to her nostrils, bringing back vivid memories of her first sexual experience with another girl…
Jean closed her eyes and let herself drift away into a state of beautiful physical pleasure; concentrating entirely on the sensations of touch and smell — ignoring all speculation on whether what she was doing was right or wrong. She applied herself to the kissing of Monique's cunt, slowly becoming oblivious to everything else.
Her tongue peeped out and its tip, curled over to form a long tube-like phallus, inched slowly into the heat of Monique's vulva. It pushed its way steadily inwards — moving from side to side, stretching as far as it could possibly reach into the girl's warm moist hole. Jean's pursed lips also worked: they moved continually on Monique's inner cunt-lips, savouring the rubbery wet flesh and pushing fiercely into the softness of the marvellous sex.
She felt the French girl beginning to gyrate her hips. Monique tensed and untensed her loins, thrusting her crotch more and more urgently against Jean's mouth. Jean slipped her hands beneath the girl's thighs until they cupped the soft balls of Monique's arse, fingers sinking deeply into the pillowlike cheeks and fondling them firmly.
Glueing her lips as passionately as she could to the French girl's cunt, Jean sucked with a relentless ardour. She began to shake her head violently from side to side, making her beautifully long hair fall across Monique's thighs and crotch — hiding their lesbian activity like a blanket.
Monique's ankles suddenly locked together around the small of her back and Jean felt the girl's hands grip her head, pushing her strongly against the well-sucked sex.
She began to rock and shiver so uncontrollably that it was all Jean could do to keep her mouth in position. Monique babbled incoherently in French, threshing her body in a furious tantrum. Jean put her fingers into the crease of the girl's arse — running her nails quickly up and down the warm divide and finding at last the entrance to Monique's anus.
Scrabbling wildly, she thrust her forefinger into the tender meat, ignoring Monique's shrill cry of protest. Firmly embedded inside, Jean's finger wiggled around and around; she could feel, through the wafer-thin membrane separating Monique's two orifices, her tongue as it continually darted and lapped at the innermost depths of the girl's cunt. It was beginning to ache, tiring from the strenuous and unaccustomed exercise. But Jean knew that she couldn't withdraw it until Monique had been given every possible satisfaction…
And so frantically was the French girl thrusting herself up and down on the bed that Jean knew her climax couldn't be too distant. Monique was gasping for breath, her mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish: she flailed desperately, pulling Jean's hair and bringing tears to the woman's eyes.
Then — as Jean's tongue lapped suddenly upwards to rub insistently on the stiff red clitoris — Monique went completely stiff. Her entire body tensed as the girl summoned her last ounce of strength… and the next moment Jean's mouth was filled with the runny love-spunk. It jetted hotly and thickly down her throat, forcing her to swallow again and again…
When Monique's orgasm finally abated, Jean kept her mouth pressed tightly against the girl's cunt. Her own quim itched to have the same treatment, but she wasn't sure if Monique would perform the service for her. Perhaps, she thought, now that the girl had fully spent her own lust, Monique would feel ashamed and guilty. She would realise that she had given in to a weak and shameful impulse and want nothing more to do with her. And so Jean fearfully stayed in the same position, afraid to move even slightly in case she broke the spell…