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 FOURTEEN
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.