“Where do you want to kiss me?” Melissa asked coyly, puckering her lips. At the same time her hand slid down her belly and she parted the hairless lips of her snatch. Sheila stood panting, watching, unsure how to answer the question. Sighing, she sank to her knees and planted her mouth on Melissa’s belly, just below the navel. It eased downward, onto the puff of pussy, and her tongue scraped the parted, inviting labia. The girl’s clit was still erect, a pulsating little nubbin against Sheila’s tongue. Sheila licked it once, found she couldn’t take her tongue away. Melissa took hold of Sheila’s head, began to wiggle against Sheila’s face, just as she’d wiggled in her dance last night. Only this time, Sheila thought, she’s doing it for me and for me only. She sucked the clitoris, felt its eager throb between her lips, and her eyes went misty with tears I can lose her and live, she thought. It won’t be the first time. But it won’t hurt any the less.
Melissa settled down. She knocked over the easel and its blank canvas board, the one Sheila had set up when Melissa asked to be painted. It didn’t matter. The sun blazed down from overhead and Melissa felt its rays kissing her body, kissing her everyplace Sheila wasn’t already kissing her. She basked in the sun and the love, and she basked in the glow of Sheila’s attention. It was nice, being with somebody who really seemed to dig you. Not just as a body, as a person, too. The sex was good, but the vibes were even better. And she got dynamite from Sheila Ross. Especially now, with a tongue on her clit.
Melissa’s hand slid lazily across the ground. The paint box had spilled too, and there were tubes and stuff all over. She sifted through them, enjoying the way the fat smooth tubes felt against her fingers, until her sense of touch told her she’d located a paintbrush. Melissa turned her head, baked at it. A long handled brush with a wide flat set of bristles. She stroked them against her arm. Stiff, but not harsh. Sorta like Lou’s moustache. Mmmmmmm! She remembered how that moustache felt, wiggling across her shaven snatch. She looked at Sheila’s naked legs, spilling across the grass. Smooth, brown legs, slender and shapely. Pleasant to touch, even more pleasant to feel, wrapped around her face. Melissa began to slide the bristles of the paintbrush up and down Sheila’s legs, paying close attention to the backs of the thighs. The way Sheila wiggled around and kinda purred into Melissa’s twat signaled to Melissa that it was indeed an idea, and a very good one. She tickled a little harder, scraping flesh, and the brush moved into Sheila’s crotch.
“Oh, God!” That was Sheila, first being touched on the pussy by the paintbrush. Melissa worked it vigorously at the fleshy little lips, not trying to get inside. Not yet, at least.
Sheila rolled over, face flushed with excitement. “What are you doing?” she asked. Melissa held up the brush. Sheila giggled. “I never thought of using it for that!” she said.
“Show you a better one,” Melissa replied. “C’mon, open ’em! Let me into that little honeypot of yours. Mmmmm! I can still smell the cum all over your cunt. Makes my tummy growl. I think I’m hungry.”
Melissa lay down on the ground between Sheila’s widespread legs, the brush in her hand. “Open up, you tight little bugger,” she told the pussy, and Sheila reached down to lend her assistance. The gates parted, and Melissa moved in, holding the paintbrush, bristly end out.
“Ohmygod!” Sheila squealed as the bristles touched her clit. She jumped and her face went red and her nipples popped out in excitement. Melissa rubbed again, and Sheila’s head began to swim. “Don’t do that,” she said. “You’re driving me crazy.” But she said it like an invitation, and Melissa kept on stroking. Sheila lay back holding her snatch wide, and the constant flutter of camel’s hair across her love button was incredible, stimulating, total fucking dynamite!
She sat up, panting, grabbed the brush from Melissa, threw the younger girl back onto the grass and zeroed in on Melissa’s crotch. “Ooohhhhhh!” Melissa shrieked as Sheila repaid her in very good kind, scratching rings round the blonde’s big, luscious clit.
A delightful shade of pink suffused Melissa’s privates, and Sheila couldn’t stand it. She threw the brush over her shoulder and went in with mouth open. Her tongue ravished Melissa, lapping and prodding until the girl was gushing in orgasm, and then she lay back, propped on her elbows, legs spread, ready, ready, ready! And so was Melissa, who mouthed in on Sheila’s snatch as if it were a steak, smothered in gravy and fragrant onions. It couldn’t last long, Sheila thought, guiding a head that needed no guidance, but it could be beautiful while it lasted.
“What’s it like in Darien, Connecticut?” Melissa wondered. She was toying with her towel, alternately shielding and baring her body. Sheila had her clothes on, but, watching Melissa, she wished she was still naked, that they could go around at least one more time. Before—before it had to end. Because it did have to end. Her heart twinged inside her at the thought, but twinging hearts couldn’t mask the truth.
“It’s—a place. Artists, writers, musicians. Rich people. Not too many poor people. Long Island Sound. Not too far from the Berkshires. That’s where I painted the pictures you were looking at last night, in the house. I have a small house in a very quiet, spread-out suburb.”
“Mmmm, sounds nice,” Melissa said, coming close. “Really small house? Just big enough for one?”
Sheila couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “N-no. It’s empty for one person living alone, nicer with two, but…”
Melissa put her arm around Sheila. Those big naked tits nudged Sheila’s cheek, and Sheila turned her face, trembling. She clutched the girl’s breasts, squeezed them together, burying her face between them.
“What I was thinking,” Melissa added, “is that maybe I might come up and see you sometime, after you go back to Darien, Connecticut.”
Sheila looked up. “But Lou…”
“Lou doesn’t own me. I’m with him but I don’t belong to him. Anyway, he has other fish to fry. And so do I. I’d really like to fry your fish, if you know what I mean?” She giggled. “I’m tired of being a piece of ass. When I’m with you, I feel like I belong to something, you know? Like we’re both part of some kind of bigger thing, but we have to get it together, see, because otherwise we’re just a couple of people—I’m not very good at saying things. Am I making any sense at all?”
Sheila nodded, and she began to cry. Her salty tears spilled onto Melissa’s big warm boobs. One teardrop glistened at the tip of Melissa’s nearest nipple. It shone like silver in the sunlight.
She tried to think. Paramount in her thoughts was the fact that Melissa had just brought up the question of a relationship, had more or less asked if one was possible. Oh, God, it was possible! It was more than possible! It was what Sheila wanted, more than anything else in the whole Goddamned world! But—did she dare? Again? So soon?
She looked up, into Melissa’s liquid gemlike eyes. They were simple eyes, the kind of eyes she went crazy for. But could she depend on them? How soon before Melissa pulled up stakes and moved on? How soon before her heart was broken again?
But she had to take the chance. Maybe this time it would be real for both of them. Maybe Melissa had hit it directly on the head, that line about two people and both of them part of a bigger something that encompassed the pair of women, something that made them both complete when they were together. Maybe this time. And she’d never know unless she tried. “Yes,” Sheila said, “yes I think that would be nice. I want you to come home to Darien with me and live with me and love me. Please?”