Bertha gingerly peeled Roberta Jean's clitoral foreskin upward with the tip of that finger, and, in this manner, rendered the entire love button naked and vulnerable to her oral caress.
Bertha then darted outward with her tongue tip and touched Roberta Jean's clit as lightly and as quickly as she could. Bertha pulled her tongue away from the magic spot the second she touched it. Bertha Klemmer sought – and she found – the most subtle possible clitoral caress. She knew that she did not have to touch Roberta Jean Richardson's clitoris very hard – after all, it was the most sensitive part of the blonde bombshell's entire body.
Roberta Jean could feel a lightning bolt of pleasure starting at her clit, shooting up her spine as far as the base of her skull, where it paused and retreated. The pleasure did not explode directly into her brain the way the ultimate pleasure of her orgasm would have. But she was close. So very close!
Bertha dabbed her tongue at Roberta Jean's clitoris, always pulling the taster tip away from the fiery bulb before the blonde's pleasure had an opportunity to become orgasmic.
"I can't take it anymore! I can't take it anymore! I can't! Ohhhhhhhh! Owwwwwwww! Give it to me! Give it to me! Make me come! I need to come! I need to come so fucking bad! I need to come so motherfucking bad!" Roberta Jean Richardson screamed.
Bertha could tell that Roberta Jean was not in the mood to be teased any longer. She placed the tip of her tongue on Roberta Jean's clit and this time she kept it there. She began to roll the clit in a series of slow circles, and then some figure eights.
"Yeah!"
She licked softly.
"Harder!"
She licked slowly.
"Faster!"
Bertha licked harder and faster.
Roberta Jean thought the top of her head was going to blow off as the explosions of ecstasy started in her cunt.
CHAPTER TEN
Just at the moment that Roberta Jean burst into orgasm, Bertha could feel a little squirt of liquid from the blonde's urethra striking her on her lower lip.
There was a time when Bertha would have thought that Roberta Jean Richardson had lost control of her bladder.
There was a time, when Bertha Klemmer was very young, when she would have thought that Roberta Jean was pissing on her mouth.
Now that Bertha was older, and infinitely more sexually experienced, she understood that this was not piss at all.
Bertha understood, as a matter of fact, that this little squirt did not even have anything to do with Roberta Jean's bladder.
This squirt, Bertha knew, was Roberta Jean's feminine ejaculation, proof positive of her come's authenticity.
Of course it would never have occurred to Bertha in a million years that Roberta Jean might fake her climax.
Such thespian skills, Bertha knew, were reserved by straight women exclusively to preserve the male ego.
The little squirt of fluid struck Bertha initially on the lower lip and then worked its way into her mouth.
Onto her tongue.
It tasted sweet.
Bertha Klemmer steadily increased the pressure and the speed of her tongue's movements across Roberta Jean Richardson's little man in the boat, until she was lapping at the fiery bulb every bit as hard and fast as she could.
Just when Roberta Jean thought the intensity of her climactic convulsions, her orgasmic spasms, were bound to diminish, Bertha Klemmer did something she did not expect.
The short-haired and somewhat stocky lesbian wrapped her lips around Roberta Jean's clitoris. The heavily-tattooed and nail-tough bull-dyke also wrapped her lips around the clit's surrounding tissues.
Roberta Jean Richardson's companion and best friend began to suck the clit. The brown-haired and distinctly masculine woman kept the tip of her tongue busy at all times. The baritone-voiced and muscular female was sucking and licking at Roberta Jean's clit simultaneously.
Roberta Jean was in heaven. Roberta Jean Richardson could feel her spiritual self and her physical self separating. The redheaded and large breasted bar brawler could feel her spirit drifting out of her body, drifting upward toward the ceiling. The evil and thoroughly sadistic blonde woman could feel the world spinning on its axis. The heavily-muscled and mean-tempered female, oddly, felt as if she were spinning in precisely the opposite direction.
Then it was over.
Bertha pulled her mouth away immediately.
It did not take long for Roberta Jean and Bertha to get into trouble.
St. Louis.
Their second night on the road.
A city bar.
Roberta Jean and Bertha sat side by side sipping shots when two tough girls entered and sat down underneath the elevated TV, where they could see the blonde and her bull-dyke friend.
One of the St. Louis girls looked to the other and then to Bertha and said, "Tell me Marlene, is that a boy or a girl?"
"Can't tell."
"Shit, can't even tell if that's a boy or a girl!"
Bertha could take no more.
"Why don't you suck my honey pot and find out!" Bertha screamed.
All four were off their bar stools at the same time.
What a fight!
Roberta Jean Richardson and Bertha Klemmer had the best of the locals right from the start, but they took a few licks too.
Roberta Jean had her opponent by the hair and was punching her face. The other girl had a grip on Roberta Jean's right tit. She was squeezing it and yanking at it as if she wanted to pull it right off her chest.
This really pissed Roberta Jean off. She took the back of the girl's head and rammed it repeatedly against the wall.
Thunk!
Thunk!
Thunk!
Bertha Klemmer in the meantime had her opponent on her back on the sawdust floor and was popping right and lefts into her face – much as she had to Sheree Messmer up on Sex Hill that fateful night earlier in the week.
In less than a minute Roberta Jean Richardson and Bertha Klemmer had both rendered their opponents unconscious.
"That ought to teach them to mouth off," Roberta Jean said.
"Yeah, fucking cuntfaces!" Bertha Klemmer concurred.
They went to return to the bar to order up fresh drinks but their was no bartender.
"Where'd the man go?" Roberta Jean Richardson asked a guy who was sitting their, wide-eyed with the commotion.
"Phone booth, calling the cops," the man said in a wheezy voice.
"Let's split," Roberta Jean said.
"We're gone," Bertha Klemmer said.
"Bye!" Roberta Jean Richardson shouted happily to the men who sat there staring. It felt great being in a fight again.
In the motel in Kansas City Roberta Jean sat alone on the foot of the bed, contemplating he somewhat frightening future. Bertha burst into the room with a happy grin on her face.
Roberta Jean noticed immediately that Bertha was carrying something in a brown paper bag.
"What you got there?"
"A surprise!"
"Let me see!"
"Hold your horses! It's a present."
"For me?"
"For us."
"What is it? What is it? What is it?" Roberta Jean said.
Roberta Jean Richardson sounded like a little girl on her birthday.
Bertha opened the bag.
She pulled out the dildo.
The buxom and long-legged blonde bombshell could see that the dildo was very long, about ten inches long. The redheaded and large-breasted bar brawler could see that the dildo was very thick too, every bit as thick as Harvey Henderson's cock. The evil and thoroughly sadistic blonde woman could see that there were little rubber bumps at the base of the dildo. The heavily-muscled and mean-tempered female knew that those bumps were designed to fit over Bertha's clit when she wore it, so that she could receive pleasure too when she was fucking Roberta Jean with it. Bertha held the dildo up with pride.