When she was done, though, her muscles were filled not with calm, but with a strange anxiety, as though no series of climaxes could really satisfy her. And Terry did not stop; she only moved slower, her tongue running over the cunt and between the ass cheeks, over the rectum, like the ghost of the previous pleasure.
Irene stirred. She forced her stomach harder against Terry's mouth and chin. She wished the two fingers that were circling over the globe of her butt would force their way inside the cunt. Her walls, in the aftermath of the climax, clamped shut.
They drew open again, like flabby wet muscle. Terry's lips puckered, and Irene groaned as her lover blew cool wind from between them to chill the lining. Her thumbs massaged the moist, fuzzy armpits and she tried to pull Terry on top of her.
Terry mounted her, but only after making her wait. She rubbed her cunt over Irene's slicked-down, matted pubic hair. Irene felt the stirring, the tension, working up from her heels through her limbs, spreading out like arrows of intense tingling through her ass cheeks. "Make love to me," she whimpered. "Don't just fuck me, please... make love to me... Show me you mean it..."
Terry's eyes widened as she watched the tears streak over the other woman's cheekbones. Softly she kneaded Irene's belly with the inside of her sweaty hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered into Irene's ear, and a pang of sympathy touched her, making her blood rush as Irene smiled, her lips parting as she breathed through her mouth.
"I like it when you do that," Irene said, her voice gentle and even childlike when Terry's hand rested over the mound of her breast. Blood seemed to swirl inside the hillock, making the tit freeze solid. Only the point of the nipple grazed the palm, but pinpricks of erection surrounded it. She squeezed her legs together, and her thighs touched as the bristle of her sexual hair curled into a tighter mop. She stretched her legs and felt a chill in the base of her spine as her lover moved from kissing her neck with her tongue down to her breast, where she forced the whole of the tit inside her mouth. The edges of her teeth moved gingerly against the pale flesh, while the aureole scraped the dry roof of her mouth.
Terry pushed down on the breast with her full hand, drawing her mouth away. The soft tissue and muscle compacted against the breastbone, making it smaller, flatter. She ran her tongue around it, then made designs of saliva on her skin with the tip of her tongue. Her fingertips prodded the muscle when she drew her head away. Irene, impatient for friction in her groin, raised her right leg off the bed and curled it around Terry's left.
Terry knew what she wanted. She knew the slight smile, the willing glance, that told her how much Irene wanted it -- it being what she always called sex, having an aversion even to euphemisms. Gently Terry flexed her right leg and jabbed the knee against the cunt while Irene writhed against the pressure, as if set in motion by an electric shock. She brought her right hand to Irene's thigh, and her fingers poked into the hollow below the cunt hair. She rolled the tip of her finger over Irene's clit until it was harder and even larger. Terry winced as Irene, kicking her leg out involuntarily with the excitement that was filling her, hit her hipbone. She felt Irene's open mouth swirl around her neck, and her own breasts heaved as the warm breath enveloped her shoulders.
She was not as excited as Irene seemed to be, and she wondered why. Was it the guilt she felt? As she was trying to understand, she felt Irene's hand rubbing her cunt and she was drawn into the movement. A small amount of lubricating fluid was released from the tight walls of her cunt. She brought her right knee closer into the fork between Irene's legs, and she drew her other leg up the side of Irene's body until she was crouched over her lover, kneeling, with her torso curled over Irene, their tits almost touching. She rammed her pussy up against Irene's hand. She had taught Irene most of what the other knew about making love to a woman. And now Irene's fingers were as expert as her own. It was the way she liked to be touched. She had trained a lover for herself, and now she was leaving her creation...
The fingers, bending at the knuckles in quick spasms, pushed inside the cunt and poked the wet meat until both were slippery. Irene pulled out and smeared the glossy sweat over the cunt's surface. The remaining moisture she wiped off on the rims of the buttock cheeks.
"Let me do it to you," Irene whispered, and Terry knew what this ft was. She pushed up on her hands and waited on her knees while Terry squirmed from under her. In a moment, Irene was at her side, and in another second she was behind Terry, pushing her toward the bed. Terry's legs were limp, and she did not pull them apart. Instead she waited for Irene's hands to push her thighs out so that her sex was exposed. Irene's fingertips swirled lightly through the network of pubic hair, though her fingers did not touch the delicate skin itself. Suddenly Terry felt the pressure of fingertips on the raw-pink labial flesh, and she felt the lips drawn open. She closed her eyes and waited for the wetness of Irene's tongue.
Irene pressed her lip to the clit. It grew larger, like a soft pearl. Her finger slipped inside the cunt and wiggled against the walls until they opened in a convulsive spasm, only to slam shut again, the wet skin forcing itself into one tight muscle. Irene's tongue waved over the exterior flesh of the pussy until the tongue tip touched the first inch of salty tissue inside.
Terry sat up in bed. Her ass moved under her, but Irene's mouth followed her cunt with her lips and tongue. Terry's hands slipped from the other woman's shoulders to the small of Irene's back, where she pressed on the base of her spine. Irene's breathing grew faster as one finger moved inside the crevice between her ass cheeks. She could not pry apart the tiny muscles of the sphincter, but Irene's hips pumped out a quick rhythm in response to the mere probing. Terry's finger traveled up between the hillocks and rubbed the place where the butt separated, just beneath the spine. She leaned forward; her breasts ramming into Irene's face and neck, and started to bite and lick the folds of her neck and shoulders. She spread her legs and brought them in tight around Irene's body, while her own cunt squirmed against Irene's mouth.
Irene was squeezing one butt inside her hand, twisting her fingers around the flabby meat and tearing her nails into the cheek, while the other hand was playing with Terry's wet cunt, separating the sides so that her tongue could fall inside easily and caress the walls, oiled with fluid.
Exhausted, Terry lay back and let her limbs fly apart, opening the space between her legs wider so that Irene could move her face up and down, side to side, more wildly. Terry's fingernails dug into the mattress. Her hips bucked and she slipped her sex out of Irene's mouth, moaning as Irene's tongue rolled over her soft naked belly rather than the thirsty clitoris. But Irene's lips pressed down inside the matting of hair, and she found the button again, while her two fingers smashed inside and rubbed the walls, gooey with female sweat.
Her shoulders twisted against the bed linen, her head snapped from side to side, and her jaw flexed like the mouth of a marionette. Her tongue slid over the rims of her lips and made the deep pink shine with moisture. A low moan escaped from her throat like the rustle of wind.
In a moment Irene's body had straightened, and she was on top of her lover, kissing her, stroking her lips with her tongue. Terry tasted her own juices in Irene's mouth, and her lips twisted, sliding to the cheeks, to the neck, while she squeezed Irene's breast, bloated by motherhood, until the tit was diamond-hard again.
Irene was in control this time; Terry was too hot. Irene sat and curled her legs around Terry, folding them behind and forcing her heels into the girl's buttocks. She prodded the underside of Terry's knees with her thumbs, and Terry lifted her limbs off the bed and curled them around Irene until they faced each other, their breasts sliding against one another with each new straining breath. The muffs almost touched. When Irene stuck her hand between the two nearly joined crotches, Terry was not sure until she felt the pressure of moving fingertips that the gesture was directed at her. For a moment she arched her spine and rested her weight on her hands, thrusting her pubic region up and into Irene's anxious hand. But now she came forward and found the pouting flesh around Irene's hole. Her fingers bent and straightened until two fingers made their way inside the cavity, which was dry now. The muscles were tight, and Irene groaned.