She was lapping at Rita's mouth, inside it, licking her tongue, and oh, the sweet humid warmth oozed through her to her jiji-rocked vagina, as though Rita's tongue had gone right through there and nudged the plastic gadget about!
Never had she imagined that she could enjoy kissing a girl.
They were breathing hard. She whispered, "Rita, you're so sweet to me. I adore you!"
Rita smiled and nuzzled her cheek. Susie fingered her throat, felt up over the girl's neck into that glossy hair, which clung so sensually to her fingers. She caressed it, stroked the nape of her neck.
The jiji seemed to wallow in an oil bath, every movement softer and less predictable than the one before. It was a hundred times more feminine and gentle than a throbbing penis, yet in its mild way frantically exciting.
Susie was exploring, fingering Rita's velvety cheek, the curl and turn of her ear, each movement a slow, voluptuous adventure. And when her fingers walked downward onto the swell of firm breast it seemed quite natural to stroke the smooth orb, circling it, then finding the center, the rubbery areola as big as her palm and the rigid protrusion of the nipple.
She forked her fingers on it, squeezed, held on for Rita was kissing her throat and the soft, wet mouth sent fiery waves fanning through her flesh.
Rita murmured, "I burn you with my kisses, my love."
Susie had once read the line, a bit from the Song of Bilitis, the love poems of Sappho of Lesbos.
She whispered, "But Rita, I'm not lesbian. Am I?"
"You are my wood-nymph sweetheart."
Fingers brushed at Susie's shoulder. The gauzy material slid down her arm and a palm descended her now-bare left breast and sleekly crossed her stiff nipple.
Moaning with pleasure, she squeezed Rita in closer, and whispered, "If I'm your sweetheart then aren't we lesbians, Rita?"
"Do you want to be?"
"Why, you see, I never thought about it. I mean, can I be something I'm not?"
"Here at the Pageant we think you can find what different things you are, and make each one beautiful, something to be proud of. I love you and I can love a man, and love myself, which people say amounts to narcissism, and its act is called masturbation. But masturbation can be proud and beautiful."
Susie reflected on this. "I'm quite confused, Rita."
"Yes, sweetheart, because you thought sex was just a man pronging your hole. That's why in a moment I am going to leave you here to study yourself, discover the effect of Kashmir Karma tea dissolving your hangups and wetting your pussy, swinging your jiji, while you face up to a Susie you may not have known."
"Don't leave me!"
"Trust me, sweetheart. Now kiss me, and fondle my breast and I'll swing through a cum, then go take care of some kitchen things."
Susie felt tears in her eyes. Clinging to Rita like this, she had hopes that lesbianism would be a simple answer, a perversion she had never suspected but which might explain her unhappy relations with her husband. Now Rita hinted that the cause of her ecstasy was Kashmir Karma and the jiji rather than mere lust for another female.
Their mouths met, squashily sucking, and oh the thrill of licking her lover's slippery tongue! And clutching her big, firm breast, feeling the huge nipple bore at her palm. Rita kicked the swing high and as they lurched downward through the arc the jiji in Susie's vagina seemed to turn end over end in bubbly hot froth, yummy delicious, sweet thrill far short of orgasm but really just as good.
Then Rita's tongue shot into her mouth, and the girl moaned, stiffened, writhed, flung about the seat.
"MY cum-m-m!" she moaned. "There, I've cum, oh my sweetest lollipop I've cum in your arms, dear wood-nymph Susie!"
Spasms shook her to a jelly within Susie's embrace.
Rita had sprawled against her, panting, for some moments.
Then the girl slid from her grasp, off the swing. She retied her sarong. The way her dark nipples jutted, Susie thought them like thumbs.
Rita went to the hall door, which stood open, and Susie, on noticing that, thought, Goodness, anyone could have looked in and seen us!
Rita said, "I'll close the door. The back is a mirror. I want you to look at yourself, and perhaps you'll see what I see."
Her lips formed a kiss. She touched two fingers to it and tossed them at Susie, then went out, shutting the door behind her.
The door was broad, the mirror large enough to show the whole double swing. Susie closed her eyes, not wanting to look at herself. She wriggled to the center of the swing and pushed back, let herself go while concentrating on the moving little egg shape buried in her belly.
It clicked, wobbled, swam about in the frothy juice, and from it gentle waves of heat seeped throughout her body. She smiled. How gently exciting! Yes, it was rather like the head of a penis throbbing inside her.
She heard the trilling song of a canary.
She looked upward, avoiding the mirror, saw the golden little bird in a gilded cage, and in another a parakeet bow-leggedly and comically climbing a tilted perch. She smiled. And the room smelled of flowers and green growth.
She grasped the velvet-sheathed chains leading to the ceiling. How sensual velvet was! And birds and flowers, and swinging almost nude, wearing only the mesh-like blue wood-nymph costume with a single shoulder and a see-through skirt. It was not under her behind. She sat on soft silkiness.
At last she gazed at her mirror image.
The dress shoulder still hung down her arm. She raised it in place and studied the blue-eyed blonde girl on the swing, with her one white breast exposed. The pink areola had puffed out, extending the nipple so that together they formed a rather large cone. Never before had this breast cap appeared so turgid. But then, never had it pressed another woman's boob, nor been stimulated by butter-soft female fingers. Susie stroked it, watched it become ever more bulgy and shiny. Could Kashmir Karma have done this, altered her senses? Goodness but I'm big titted, she thought.
She gazed at the skirt, like a blue mist over her upper thighs, shadowing her pussy but in no way hiding the blonde-brown fluffiness. And her clit, what had Kashmir Karma done to it? Certainly, it felt terribly hot and swollen.
She was afraid to look.
But the seeming hugeness of her breast cap did arouse her curiosity, and at last she drew back her skirt and spread her legs.
The pink nubbin stood right out of her pussy hair.
Gasping with astonishment, she slipped a finger in under it, and oh that horny prong did look like a little boy's prick, standing right out of the glossy notch, an inch of it. Or longer?
She tweaked it between thumb and forefinger.
"Oh-h-h-h!"
Hot! Sizzling, on fire, and suddenly she was swinging hard, the cockhead jiji wobbling and throbbing maniacally in her vagina, her fingers tugging the clit-prick out ever longer and flames shooting throughout her body.
She watched herself squirm on the swing, saw its pendulous movement become erratic as she switched about. Her face flamed. Legs spread, she saw her vaginal mouth seem to gulp, suck and blow, a glossy red little convulsing hole dribbling juices.
Faster and faster she twiddled her clitoris, stretching it, poking it in under its hood, wresting it about, treating it like a light switch and then a doorbell, then pulling, pulling…
"Wow!" Susie cried. "I'm cum-ming like crazy!"
The flush of orgasm had descended from her face, down her throat, pinked her exposed tit. The cap of this swelled out as though to burst. She clapped a hand to it, squeezed while stretching her clit.
She shrieked, hips jerking wildly now, her behind flagging about the padded silky seat, the swing rocking and tossing.
Inside her the clicking roller bearings raced, clattered, jarred her vagina in the lightest, most delicious way, as though a butterfly were up her hole and flapping crazily.