But the weather stayed clear, darn the luck, and I started getting a bit irritated. I noticed that Bernadette was acting more nervous than usual, too, still good-natured but not quite her old placid self any more. That was encouraging somehow, bolstering my confidence enough to make me a little less cautious. And then, one night as she was helping me get ready for bed – hurrying me along, really – the moment seemed ripe and I couldn't resist an impetuous remark, a casual allusion to a far-from-casual subject. Despite the obviously clear weather, I figured it was the only sure way to sound her out.
"Looks like rain, huh? Think we'll have a storm?"
"A storm?"
"Like the other night. You know." I was seated on the edge of my bed, bending over and undoing my shoes, pausing to glance up at her with mock innocence. "It was so scary, remember? Maybe it'll be like that again tonight."
Her eyes narrowed. Then she dropped on her knees in front of me to help take off my shoes and socks, an unnecessary and overly indulgent gesture. But it was only to hide her embarrassment, of course. There was an odd tremor in her voice when she finally spoke up, a telltale hint of agitation.
"The other night, Loi darling. We mustn't talk about that. We mustn't say a word to anybody."
"Never! Never, never. Then it wouldn't be a secret any more. And it is a secret, isn't it? Our secret?"
"Yes, dear. And a secret is precious, especially ours. I'm very proud to share it with such a smart little girl. Only you're not so smart about the weather, are you? I doubt if well get any rain tonight, it doesn't look stormy at all."
"Oh… too bad…"
She read the disappointment in my tone. With a small smile of resignation, she shrugged and then lowered her head between my legs, nudging them apart with gentle hands. And I felt her warmth penetrate me as she crouched and placed a kiss just above the crotch of my panties. I caught my breath, stifling a giggle, almost ruefully conscious of my own sudden excitement. But it was only a token contact, no more, a fleeting touch of her lips, and then she settled back on her haunches again.
"So? Missy? You like that, eh?"
The words lodged in my throat. Grateful for her understanding, I reached out toward her with both arms, intent on showing my joyful appreciation of our reunion. She stiffened, evidently under the impression that I was trying to tug her back down again. But my hands held her with loving tenderness, caressing her hair, her cheeks. I massaged her neck lingeringly, luxuriating in the sensuously soft smoothness… But there was something even softer to lavish my affection on my fingers trailed downward to seek it out, eager to cup and caress those big womanly breasts.
"Please. Don't do that."
"Hmm?"
She pushed my hands away. "Please don't."
"You don't want me to touch you?"
"I-I'd rather you didn't. It just isn't right."
"Why not? What's wrong with it?"
"You know. Oh, darling, it's all so mixed up. I don't want to make a perverted girl out of you. And that's what will happen if you touch me. Pretty soon you'll be kissing me. And then you'll become one of those women…"
"Bernadette, how about the other way around? How about if you touch me, is that okay?"
"Well…"
"Yes? Tell me."
"I-I guess so. Only you might start to…"
"No. Wait. I won't, try to touch you. Or kiss you. So you needn't feel guilty about what I might become, how's that?"
"Umm, well, you promise?"
"I promise."
Her eyes sparkled. She grabbed at the waistband of my panties and stripped them off quickly. Then she slumped down again, making a funny little noise – like a sad moan of happiness, somehow – as her head ducked between my thighs. And this time there was no teasing with the tongue-tip, no holding off, she just mashed her face right up against me as if her need to do it was as great as mine was to receive it. After a while I leaned back on my elbows and tossed my legs up over her hunched shoulders, opening myself wide to let her lick deeper. At last my body, my cunt – my precocious little cunt! – was getting what it craved.
Once begun though, once the idea itself was no longer such a block, she relaxed the pressure enough to show me her bag of tricks, performing with style and technique rather than out of sheer desperation. That was the feeling I got, anyhow, even if it was just an uneducated guess on my part. She caressed me with her lips, her mouth, even with lapping motions of the flat of her tongue, long upward sweeps like a doggie kiss, lapping the full length of my wet slit. With a lovely delay every so often to dab at my sex-button, my undeveloped but already sensitive clitoris. Showing off, no doubt, putting her lesbian skill on display for me – but I sure didn't mind that at all. There were no covers over her, no darkness to conceal the action, so I was the audience as well as the subject for this demonstration of hers. I could look down and watch her bobbing head and see everything she did. Well, almost everything. Even the sound effects added to my enlightenment, lewd little slurping noises that echoed the rhythm of her tongue – and adding to my excitement, too, as I became less concerned with the performance as a whole and more involved with its coming climax.
Involved – oh shit, was I ever involved! All of a sudden I was shaking and squirming around up off the bed, my hands in her hair, hauling her closer, stuffing her face into the depths of my overheated cunt. My thighs clenched and convulsed, crushing her cheeks, and then a gasping sob burst from my lips as the hot pleasure gushed. I thought sure I was going to faint.
It was over for me. Bernadette knew it, of course, but she stayed right there. For a long time my lesbian lover went on caressing me softly, with a soft tongue, softer than a tongue could possibly be. I liked that. It felt so good! And I realized that this was another one of those grownup mysteries to remember, the tenderly sustained letdown after the sharp thrill at the top.
When she finally raised her head and looked up, it was with a half-smile, a kind of crooked grin. She licked her lips, peering at me in silence. Her chin and cheeks were all shiny, smeared with the liquid gush from my insides, but she didn't seem to care. Her eyes devoured me, just as her mouth had done. I had never thought of her as beautiful before, but that was how she struck me now, a big beautiful toy doll, soft but strong and durable, one of those permanent toys that would eventually outlast childhood.
"Well, little Missy?"
"Oooh, wonderful!"
"You really liked it, hmm?"
"Uh-huh. Very much."
"Then you'll expect me to do it again, I suppose."
"Sure. A lot."
"And you won't try to do anything to me? Loi? You won't even try to touch me?"
"If-if that's what you want."
"That's how it's got to be. Promise?"
"I already did. Okay, I'll say it again. I promise. And I promise to keep our secret, too. No one will ever know. Just the two of us. There now, is that good enough for you?"
"Ah, my little Missy Loi, so impatient to grow up. And so young, too. It still makes me feel guilty."
"That again? I wish you'd just forget…"
"Never mind." She laughed dryly. "What's done can't be undone. Let's not worry about it." Then, almost a whisper, "Tonight maybe, later on, even if there's no storm…"
"Huh? Oh. You'll kiss me some more?"
"Naughty little devil. But how can I resist? Yes, dear, I'll kiss you and lass you and kiss you. I'll eat you right up. You want your Bernadette to do that to you?"
"Uh-huh. You know. Every night!"
CHAPTER SEVEN