It didn't happen every night, of course – after all, we had my father to contend with. But sweet Bernadette was pretty much in agreement as to how often we should dream up an imaginary storm and have ourselves some un-imaginary fun. That night and many nights thereafter, we managed to find some moments in bed together, moments of unforgettable joy for me.
I was disappointed about not having those naughty books around anymore, but that was the way she wanted it. She had gotten rid of them (how or where, I never found out) and still felt a little guilty about how much I had learned from those few readings. The words, especially, the naughty lesbian words that I used whenever we were alone in the house – she was both distressed and stimulated by my gutter language. Anyway, I soon got over my disappointment; who needed books when the real thing was so available? It was nice to have a cuntlapper practically at my beck and call.
At my beck and call. That was the pattern we fell into. She seemed to enjoy my bossing her around, obviously excited by the commands I muttered under the influence of her sucking mouth. And it was always the same, that pattern, Bernadette put her face between my thighs and tongued me to an ecstatic climax. I never did it to her. I would have, but she didn't want that, quite serious about the promise she had extracted from me.
I did touch her, though. At least she let me do that much to satisfy my curiosity, even if only now and then. I caressed her big breasts; always an attraction, and once in a while she actually lay still and allowed my hand to sneak down over her belly and into the silky warmth of her cunt. It was delightful and I often wished for more, but that was as much as she would tolerate. I might act bossy, but my lesbian lover was still the real boss.
For that matter, sometimes my mind was a turmoil of strange urges that I had to suppress. I thought of other things for that mouth of hers to do, crazy things that I knew instinctively would have upset the smooth pattern and caused trouble between us. And despite my dreams of going beyond those vague but irksome limitations, I knew better than to risk anything that might loom as an actual challenge to her authority. It was still the basic authority of a grownup over a child, even when she was a "cuntlapper" taking orders. So I tried to remain content with what I had. And it was plenty! What other little girl was lucky enough to have such a maid? What other little girl had such a contented pussy?
Time flew by. The summer ended and I went back to school again, back to the old grind. My body began to develop, giving me cause for pride as my nipples became more than tiny bumps. Bernadette was pleased, too, and the attention she paid to them probably aided their growth. But she was happiest down between my legs, expressing her pleasure with nice long hot suck-kisses that made my clit-button feel as big as another nipple. She couldn't get enough of that part of me. And I was more than willing to leave it in her very capable hands. Or her capable mouth rather, with its talented and tireless tongue backed by years of experience.
So we had fun together. I played the saucy coquette when the mood came over me, often getting her all steamed up during the day, aroused to the point where she couldn't wait for nightfall. That was fine with me – sex in the afternoon – why not? And yet, somehow, in spite of all the goodies, there were times when I felt restless, times when I felt something lacking. I didn't know what it was that bothered me – except, perhaps, for those uncrossable lines, the irksome boundaries that kept experimentation to a minimum. I was ready for more. I wanted to learn. I yearned…
Then, early one evening the phone rang – hardly any concern of mine, since Bernadette usually answered all calls. But the ring continued awhile and I figured she must have been in the tub or something, getting prepared for her night off; even now my father was supposed to be home from work. Anyway, I picked it up in the living room and it was my father, sure enough, calling to say there had been a change in plans, and would I please put the maid on so that he could explain to her?
That sounded pretty cheery to me, a good possibility that she might not get away till late tonight, maybe even not at all. I scurried off to deliver the message. She was in her bathroom – in the tub, as expected – and would I go and hang up the other telephone as soon as she got on the extension here? I did that, waiting until her voice came over the wire, then hanging up and trotting right back to her room to hear the news.
The sight that met my eyes was worth racing around for. She stood there dripping wet, too wet to sit down even, clutching the phone in one hand and dabbing at herself haphazardly with the other, the towel all but forgotten as the call demanded her concentration. Her body looked terrific like that, bare naked, just out of the hot tub, all rosy pink and shimmering with rivulets of water. And I recognized it as a grand opportunity for me, of course, a chance to get real close to her without breaking any rules.
I took the towel and started drying her off. She nodded and smiled gratefully, inspiring me with self-confidence and a certain easy boldness, especially since the smile was meant only for me and not the apparently unwelcome word from my father. He had to go out of town, it seemed, and could she stay tonight and take time off later in the week? She was protesting a bit, evidently unwilling to break what must have been an important date. If only he had called sooner…
She had my sympathy, if not my wholehearted agreement. Besides, I could tell by her tone that she was only hassling him for a better deal, an extra half-day perhaps. And I had my own fish to fry anyway, toweling her dry but becoming more and more intrigued by the vulnerable position she was in. There they were, right in front of me, right there for the taking, those two big bare breasts; and weren't the nipples already kind of puffy from the touch of the towel? What was I waiting for, an engraved invitation?
Faint heart never won fair anything. I leaned forward and took the plunge, sinking into the valley between them. They pillowed my head, surrounding my hot-cheeked face with their softness. Her body shivered momentarily, a sign of warning, but she was still tied up with the telephone, too occupied to pay more than passing heed to me. I interpreted that as a go-ahead signal, figuring the advantage was still all mine.
Stirred anew, I muffled a sigh of exultation in her flesh, aware now that she wasn't fighting me at all. On the contrary, one arm had even looped around me in a loose embrace, an almost mechanical gesture as she carried on the battle with my father. As if she was trying to shield me from such crass matters! And as she cradled my head close, I began to explore the big pink hills fervently, soon finding what my lips were searching for. One after the other, the pliant nipples grew taut under my open-mouthed caress.
"Oh, that's nice, darling. Your sweet lips…"
Shocked, it took me a moment to realize that she had blocked the mouthpiece to speak to me. To spur me on as her nipple seemed to come alive inside the ring of my kiss. Better yet, she was back in the phone conversation again and now I could feel her free hand roving over my body in approval and encouragement. Then, repeating the cut-off movement once more, she bent her head and practically seared my ear with her heated whisper.
"You really love my tits, hmm? And you're so good at it. Ah! That's my darling girl. Uh-huh. Bite. It's okay. Bite my tits just a little. Go ahead, go ahead, you piggy-wig. Oh, I must be out of my mind doing this. But you got me so hot…"
That was all I needed. Only I was given even greater incentive a minute later when the sexy scent reached my nostrils, the sexy woman-smell from down below – an aroused cunt – piercing through the flowery sweet bath odor with its unmistakable power. It filled me with a combination of desire and despair; should I risk everything by breaking my promise to her? Could I even resist the pull? I could actually feel myself being drawn to it, drawn into the rising cloud of scent, my body already crumpling shamelessly. But it was too late to stop. Because I was there now, hypnotized by the sight as well as the smell, the sight of that big hairy woman-cunt – and there was nothing left for me but total capitulation to a force stronger than my own will. I could only hope that the telephone wouldn't come crashing down on my skull in bitter retaliation.