Patty hissed and groaned and rolled her head from side to side on the pillow, and her clitoris jerked and strained as Marcia grazingly tickled the bud.
Marcia worked insanely, stroking from the top to the bottom and then back to the top of Patty’s splayed, almost yearning cunt. Each gentle lap brought an involuntary lifting of the loins, as the tip of her tongue toyed with Patty’s labia. She pressed her mouth closer, reaching up with her hands to play with the juggling breasts. Her mouth was a seething, hot oven of lust, invading the vaginal orifice and lashing the erect clitoris and licking the whole wet furrow with an eellike tongue which was slippery with flowing cuntal juices.
Patty mewled with uncontrollable, unsatiated passion. Her belly rippled and she rubbed her hands against her thighs and curled her fingers in Marcia’s strewing hair, forcing the woman’s face deeper to her burning cunt. Marcia was gasping for breath… sucking air in short surges so as to not break the fervent contact of her eager mouth, tongue and lips. Even her nose was burrowing the wild depraved groin, the odor of the female musk driving her still wilder.
“Oh… oh… Ooooohhhhh, I can’t stand it!" Patty screamed. “It’s too much… too much!"
Her voice died in a strangled sob and sigh, but then broke out again in a high pitched wail as the seething lust overflowed and swept through her. She twisted in the grip of her sweet torture, twisting and writhing but never breaking the mouth which was glued to her cunt. The tongue continued to stroke her clitoris, sending lightning like stabs through her marrow. She gasped and groaned… and then she came, like the ravaging hurricane of a summer season, to pound and wash and flood her senses.
“Aaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!“ she cried, lifting her buttocks off the bed. Shuddering violently she relaxed as the climax passed over her.
But Marcia did not let go. She continued to pillage the clitoris and vagina, licking the slightly acid secretions of Patty’s orgiastic release, sucking the swollen lips of her throbbing pussy, kissing the trembling inner thighs.
“Enough! Enough!“ whimpered Patty. But they both knew it wasn’t. Patty sobbed aloud and she convulsed, her hands once more locked in Marcia’s hair as her stomach went rigid. She wanted, yet at the same time, did not want, Marcia to stop. Again she spasmed inside, cumming once more, her heart slamming wildly against her ribs, her mind adrift with the pleasure.
Then once more… with Patty emitting animal like sounds from deep in her chest, her eyes glazed and her mouth limply open.
And again and again and again for the rest of the night.
Chapter 3
The warm, diffused light of dawn shone through the bedroom window and woke Patty the next morning. Curled into a small ball, her legs drawn up with her arms circling them, hugging them, she opened her eyes and stared at the bedside clock. It was eight-fifteen. At first, she thought she was home in her room at the Jennings' and that she ought to get up immediately lest she be late for work this morning. Then, slowly, the sleep cobwebs began to dissipate and she realized where she was, whose bed she was now lying in, alone. And worse, what had happened last night, everything that had happened last night.
A low, tremulous moan escaped her lips as wave after wave of shame and degradation swept over her. Oh God, oh God, what had become of her? She was lost, lost… First she had experienced the sickly depraved rape at the hands of her father-in-law and then, following her headlong flight, she had allowed herself with condoning passivity to be sucked and kissed between her legs by her best girl friend in an act of sheer lesbian degeneration. And, most terrible of all, most horrifying of all, she had enjoyed that illicit, orgiastic lovemaking and had climaxed again and again under Marcia's expert tongue and mouth…
Patty moaned again, and dimly she became aware of the sound of a shower spray on tile walls. She listened, knowing that Marcia was in the bathroom, bathing, preparing herself for work. Patty briefly entertained the thought of getting up, of dressing and going to work herself… but the idea left her immediately. How could she work today? How could she go through the normal motions of her everyday secretarial position, having to face her employer, her coworkers? Too, she didn't have any clothing, had only the robe she had been wearing when she had come here last evening.
No, she couldn't go to work, she would have to call in sick.
Abruptly, the sound of the shower ceased and Patty realized that Marcia would soon be coming out of the bathroom. A certain panic seized control of her brain momentarily. How could she face Marcia, for God's sake? How, after last night, could she possibly look this woman who had been her friend in the eye…?
The bathroom door opened before she had an opportunity to further dwell on the thought,
Marcia…a fluffy bath towel wrapped around her slim body… emerged into the bedroom. Her face had a brightly pink, scrubbed look and she smiled pleasantly as she saw that Patty was awake. She padded over to the bed and sat down on the foot of it, looking tenderly at Patty. “Good morning, dear," she said. how do you feel today?”
Patty turned her face away, staring at the wall, and didn't reply.
Marcia toyed with the bottom folds on the towel. "I know what you must… think of me, after last night,” she said slowly. "I guess I'd best explain about myself.”
Patty said nothing.
"You see," Marcia went on, "I'm an extremely physical person. The needs of my body govern my mind at times, if you know what I mean. I suppose I'm oversexed anyway, but when I need lovemaking, when I need to make love, I simply can't wait beyond that first sperate urge. I have to do it, or I become so agitated I think I'm going to lose my mind sometimes. I'm not a lesbian, Patty; I much prefer a man with me, inside me, a man to kiss the way I was kissing you last night. But with Roger in Viet Nam, and no other man available right now, I… well, I just had to have someone. I've had women before, I'll admit not very often, but once in awhile, when I couldn't find other outlets. I guess I really am sort of screwed up sexually, but everyone has hangups, you know."
Patty turned her face toward her. "You mean, you… you've been with other men while Roger's been gone…?"
"Yes I have," Marcia admitted. "One or two. I can't help myself, and Roger knows that and understands. He also knows I love him, very much, and that these other… liaisons really don't mean a thing to me." She paused, her face softening in a gentle, woman-to-woman smile. "I hope you'll forgive me, honey, for last night. I… I don't want to lose your friendship, Patty.”
Patty was struck with a sudden compassion for this woman who was her friend, and the awful images in her brain of the lewd acts Marcia had performed on her body faded and paled into insignificance. Who was she to judge this poor woman? She, whom Tom Jennings had called a gutter whore and said had been leading him on, tempting him with lascivious movements of her lush body. If she expected to be forgiven for her transgressions, her "hangups" as Marcia had put it, then couldn't she find it in her heart to forgive another for hers?
"Oh Marcia," she said finally, "yes, I forgive you! I don't want to lose your friendship either! But you-we must never do what… we did again. You have to promise me that"
"I promise," Marcia answered solemnly, and she reached out and clasped Patty's hand. Then she stood, smiling, and returned to the bathroom. Patty slid out of bed and put on her robe, wrapping it tightly around her. She went out into the duplex's tiny kitchen and found fresh made coffee and poured herself a cup. She was sitting at the breakfast nook, sipping it, when Marcia came in, fully dressed, a few minutes later.
"Oh good, I see you found the coffee," Marcia said.
"Yes. It's very good."
Marcia beamed. "I've put out a loose-fitting housedress of mine which you should be able to wear until you can get your clothes." She paused. "Speaking of that, when are you going to pick up your clothes? And return the Jennings' car?"