Annabelle arched up off the chair, rubbing her pussy undercover, feeling up her breasts. I just about fell out of my chair, astonished at the girl’s audacity. Astonished, and awesomely aroused. I was only a chair-length away from the babe blatantly groping her tits and stroking her cunt.
The book shook in my hands in front of me, my eyes refusing to focus on the words, staring over the top at Annabelle. I struggled to continue the remarkable story.
“Page 127!” Annabelle gasped. Her hand bulged up and down in her shorts, fingers flying on her pussy. Then they curled, a pair plugging right into her slit from what I could see and hear. She pulled on a nipple so hard I thought it would pop off in her other fingers.
I leafed through the book, went past the right page, flipped back too far the other way. My fingers were trembling as wildly as my legs. I swear I could hear my pussy squish between my legs, the buzz of my achingly hard nipples, above the panting my dirty-digited bookmate was doing.
I hit the correct page and splayed the book open, squeaked out a passage of younger/older lesbian lust in a gold-plated bathtub. The heat and dampness of the literary and figurative scene permeated me and Annabelle to our sexual cores.
The sultry brunette pulled her top right up over her breasts, exposing the ripened pair. They stood out huge and heavy and round and olive-toned in front of us, immense, darker areolas sporting jutting, pointing nipples. Annabelle arched back in her chair, pushing the pair of smooth-skinned melons out even further. Then she gripped one with her left hand and hefted the luscious mass, bent the rigid nipple up to meet her long pink tongue surging down.
The brazen beauty licked her own nipple, tonguing around and around the rubbery spigot, her pebbly areola. I gawked, the book fanned up against my gaping mouth. Annabelle’s hand in her shorts pumped faster, fingers plugging her pussy harder, as she sucked her own nipple into her mouth and tugged on it with her lips.
She dropped the one tit, lifted the other breast, sucked on that nipple, other hand almost breaking her zipper apart. “Oh, God, Kathy!” she cried. “I’m going to come! You’re making me come!”
She was giving me too much credit, the author and herself too little. But I didn’t argue the point, staring at her saliva-shined breasts, her pistoning hand in her shorts. The girl was pumping herself and me past the point of no return.
When a nun suddenly walked around the corner.
We both froze, shocked. The woman had come from nowhere, in total stealth. A small, black woman dressed in a grey habit. She didn’t even look at us, though, walked right by. But Annabelle’s top slammed down and her legs snapped shut, her hands moving fast as any female weightlifter jerking the snatch.
“Jesus, that was close!” she breathed, as we watched the nun disappear.
The college was founded by a religious order way back when, part of the campus still affiliated with the cause.
We stared at one another. Then Annabelle giggled. I giggled. Annabelle jumped forward in her chair and kissed me. I kissed her back. She grabbed my hand and we raced down from our not-so-private hideaway and out of the library, hot to find a sanctuary to give full voice to our lust.
The best we could come up with was a darkened classroom on the second floor of the neighboring Arts building. The door was unlocked, the hallway empty, the classroom deserted. Annabelle pushed me inside and shut the door. Then she pushed me up against the wall and pressed her body into mine, her lips against my lips.
She kissed me hotly, wetly, hungrily. Her fingers dug into my hair, her tits pressing soft and warm into my breasts. My back was up against the light switch, and I yelped, “Ow!”
We moved over a foot without breaking contact. I wrapped my arms around Annabelle’s curvy, throbbing body. Her tongue burst into my mouth and flailed at my tongue, as I sailed my hands down her back and onto the outrageous humps of her butt cheeks.
“Mmm!” we gasped in each other’s mouths, our tongues entwining openly. Annabelle gripped my shoulders and shuddered her tits against mine, her buttocks in my hands. I sunk my fingernails into the overstuffed flesh and kneaded.
She pulled her head back, her tongue out of my mouth, and swiped the loose straps of my dress off my shoulders. The top of my dress tumbled down, exposing my tits. Annabelle grasped my breasts and popped a full-blown pink nipple into her mouth, sucked on it.
“Yeesss!” I groaned, vibrating against the wall of the classroom.
The girl’s mouth was so wet, so hot, so insistent, her sealing lips stretching out my blossomed bud to an incredible length, then releasing it with a snap. Then doing the same to my other buzzing nipple. She eagerly bobbed her head back and forth between my breasts, licking, sucking, biting, her hands squeezing my shimmering flesh.
I tore my own hands off her butt and grabbed onto her own boobs from the sides, anxious to do to them what she was so eloquently doing to mine. She released my tits and jumped back, peeled her top up, displaying her mams for my pleasure again. I grabbed onto them, worked the hanging masses like I’d worked her butt cheeks.
She flung her head and body back and her mouth open, her hands shooting into her hair. I held her up by her boobs, gripping the velvety-skinned pair. Then I bent my head down and stuck out my tongue and circled one of her wide areolas with my slippery sticker. She cried out with delight.
I absolutely fed on the girl’s breasts, my passion inflamed to infernoic levels. I swallowed as much of her one tit as I could and wet-vacced the flesh, boob and nipple both. Then I popped the sopping wet sack out and mouthed her other breast, suctioned it for all I was worth. Her tits shivered in my hands and mouth, her nipples clogging the back of my throat.
“Yes, Kathy! Suck on my tits!” she shrieked.
Just as the doorknob suddenly rattled and the classroom door creaked open.
The lights flashed on, quick as Annabelle dropped the curtain down on her glistening tits and I yanked up my dress. A man in black clerical garb stood in the doorway of the classroom.
“Oh, are you ladies in my theology class?” he kindly inquired.
We bolted past him so fast his white collar spun.
We ran down the hall hand-in-hand, desperate to consummate our lust without any further divine intervention.
The women’s washroom. We banged through the door, charged around the corner, smacked into the last stall against the wall.
I’d barely clanged the bolt home, when Annabelle grabbed me and spun me around. There was a stark look of unrequited frenzy in her blazing brown eyes, as she tore my dress down and off, did the same to my pink panties. She stared down at my bikini-shaved blonde pussy, the glistening moisture on my lips plain to see, hers to taste. Then she shoved me down onto the toilet, dropped down onto her knees on the floor in between my legs. She pushed my legs up by the thighs and shot her head forward and planted her tongue in my slit.
“Oh my…! Yes!” I hollered, the girl’s versatile tongue spearing inside my most intimate, hard-to-read body part.
She plunged through my swollen wet red lips and deep into my pink tunnel. I hunched back against the wall, bent almost in two, the girl’s tongue up my slit.
Annabelle squirmed her sticker around inside of me, shocking my body and soul with pleasure. I grabbed onto my tits and pinched and rolled my throbbing hard nipples, getting tongued to a depth and degree I’d never dared dream of.
Annabelle filled my pussy, corkscrewed around inside it. Then fucked it. She pumped her head back and forth, drilling me with her hardened pink blade. Until she suddenly pulled out, leaving me achingly empty. Only to flatten out her tongue and mop my slit with it, lapping my cunt in long, hard, wet strokes.