"Leslie, I'll forgive you… but only if…"
Leslie looked up, her eyes wide, her lips parted. A warm glow of happiness, of deep gratitude, was beginning to sweep over her quivering frame.
"Oh, if… if what, Miss O'Brien? I'll do anything for you. Anything… ask me anything!"
Miss O'Brien closed her eyes. Then she opened them. She spread her legs apart slightly, gently. She pushed Leslie back a bit. "Leslie, show me what you touch when you play with yourself. Show me here," she said, patting her own hairy vagina.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In the two years that had slipped by so swiftly in young Leslie Groten's happy life, she was never to forget the intense, passionate thrills of that first afternoon with Miss O'Brien.
She would always remember how terribly afraid she had been, how terrified she was that she would be thrown out of Camp Summerlake, that her parents would know and she had no estimate of what punishment she would have received from them – had Miss O'Brien not changed her mind.
The experience also taught young Leslie that her "wool gathering" episodes weren't all that destructive or dangerous as her father kept reminding her. She would never regret one moment of that afternoon and the following gorgeous evenings in Miss O'Brien's private tree-house apartment high in the trees.
But she treasured that afternoon in the dressing room cabin – even though it started out so badly.
When Augusta O'Brien had first asked her to touch her between her thighs, Leslie's heart started pumping wildly. She felt all sweaty for some reason and very horny. She could smell the warmth of her own cunt and easily detected the aroma of the cognac that had dribbled between her young, coral-pink-pussy lips. She could still remember the lovely, slow-burning sensations.
Miss O'Brien was sitting down on her spread out towel. Leslie sat up close to her. For a long time the young girl looked into the older woman's eyes – and with a kind of loving affection Leslie had never before had an opportunity to display so honestly.
And Miss O'Brien was reciprocating. Her voice was soft, her manner calm and gentle – quite the opposite from those early moments when Leslie had been sobbing her poor heart out in fear of the punishment she was to receive.
"So that's the part you like to touch when you play with yourself down there, is that it, Leslie?"
"Oh, yes," the young girl had replied. "This is it. Just brushing your finger over it lightly gives me the wild shivers all over. It makes me feel all snuggly and warm, too."
Leslie's index finger was flipping lazily over Miss O'Brien's erecting clitoris. Her cunt was dampening as Leslie's finger played and wandered in the folds of bliss O'Brien's thick pussy lips. There was so much hair and it was so thick. It hid the purple thick lips and was growing moist as Leslie's finger teased.
"I like it, honey," moaned Miss O'Brien. "It really feels good."
"I told you it did," said the girl.
Now Miss O'Brien's thighs were farther apart. Both her knees were raised, and as Leslie played, she lay her head gently against Miss O'Brien's left knee. She was staring at Miss O'Brien's luscious, heavy breasts, at her dark nipples. Leslie could see them pointing and retreating as she stirred her finger through her juicy pussy lips.
"Do you ever stick your finger up inside, Leslie?" Miss O'Brien asked. Her breathing was increasing. Her eyes were opening, closing, even fluttering as she began to writhe gently in response to the tantalizing finger.
"I love to do that, too," Leslie replied, "but I usually lay back like this," she said. She demonstrated by lying back on the warm wooden boards.
"But not with your bathing suit on, dear?" Miss O'Brien questioned. Now her cunt was really vibrating. When the young girl withdrew her finger to lay back, Miss O'Brien felt an unaccustomed surging deep inside the vault of her famished vagina.
Years had passed since Miss O'Brien had fingered herself. She hadn't had a lover in as many years and had never once entertained any kind of lesbian relationship.
Even this, she told herself now, looking tenderly at the young girl, wasn't lesbianism. It was more like affection, kindness, tenderness.
"Oh, no. I love to be naked when I finger deep up inside. I love to play with my breasts and suck on my thumb at the same time. It makes me feel so good all over – and when I sip a little of the cognac, it almost drives me crazy," she explained.
"Don't you want to take off your suit, honey?" Miss O'Brien asked. "After all, you were naked when I came in… and I am, honey. It's all right. I'm sure."
Shortly Leslie Groten was naked. Miss O'Brien gasped when she lay back and opened her thighs wide. Leslie raised up one knee. "Look, watch. You'll see just howl do it, Miss O'Brien."
Miss O'Brien was panting. Her pussy cream was literally oozing out of her hot cunt, drenching the thick hairs surrounding the lips.
Miss O'Brien bent closer. She was staring now as Leslie inserted two fingers up inside her vagina. She saw her hand now caressing her breasts, rubbing her erect nipples. Leslie was sucking her thumb as she stabbed her two fingers in and out, slowly at first, then, as her passion began to flame, with more speed.
"Oh, honey," moaned Miss O'Brien. "You look just like an angel. Do you want me to touch you, too? Just like you did me, on your little clitoris?"
"If you want to, oh, yes. I'd like that. I know I would. It's never happened, but I just know I'd like you to touch it very, very much."
Miss O'Brien changed her position on the towel. She spread out on it on her belly. She was conscious of her heavy breasts squashing on the towel. Her nipples were so alive they were tingling.
She moved up closer. Now her face was an inch away from Leslie's delicious cunt. She was fascinated as the girl's fingers flew in and out. She stuck out her index finger and dragged it between the moist folds of the virgin cunt.
Leslie squealed in passion. "Oh, my goodness. Golly, that felt good! Do it again. Oh, that's really something, your finger doing what it's doing when I play up inside. It's marvelous, Miss O'Brien. Just marvelous!!"
Miss O'Brien rested her face on Leslie's undulating belly. How good and clean she smelled! She watched Leslie's fingers pinching her nipples, sucking so vigorously on her thumb. She was sowing more and more insane with a passion she had never known before this very minute.
She couldn't resist. She bent her head and took one of Leslie's nipples into her mouth. She sucked on it tenderly, then nibbled it with her teeth as the young girl squirmed and twisted, her fingers now working madly up inside her pounding virgin vagina.
"Oh, Miss O'Brien, it's heaven. It's heaven!" Leslie squealed, grinding her hips now and arching her back as Miss O'Brien's index finger scratched and caressed her inflamed clitoris.
"Honey," the older woman breathed. "Do you think it would feel different… if… if I – instead of doing this with my finger – if I tickled it down here, I mean, just with my tongue?"
Augusta O'Brien had a fantastic desire to kiss Leslie between her darling legs, to plant a hundred kisses on her warm thighs – to maybe lick the sleek white juices she could now see coating like a film all over Leslie's exposed pussy lips.
"Oh, I do. I do. I've even imagined that, Miss O'Brien. Oh, would you? Would you, maybe, do that… with your tongue, down there?"
"Oh, darling. Oh, my little darling," Miss O'Brien crooned. She shifted down. Leslie withdrew her fingers. They were covered with her love juices. Miss O'Brien took them to her lips. She smelled them. She stuck out her tongue. She licked the warm, juice-coated fingers, then sucked them into her mouth.
Leslie moaned. She was now rubbing her breasts, moaning and writhing, but when the felt Miss O'Brien's warm breath on her belly and then the touch of her mouth on her hot horny cunt, she screamed aloud. The noise echoed inside the sun-baked cabin dressing room.