Susie slid off the couch, and on her knees she gazed into the spread of Carla's legs at her hair-edged red slit. Vining her arms around the sleek firmness of the girl's thighs, she approached slowly, breathing deeply of the hot juices, licking the hairless, satiny thigh flesh to each side, aiming at Carla's bulging red clit.
Behind her, the TV set still made incoherent noises. To her left was the stairway up from the basement. But none of that mattered compared to the feast before her.
She went in flicking her tongue, coiling it about the tiny morsel of erectile flesh.
It swelled under the tonguelash, and Carla cried out. Swabbing it slowly, bending it, pushing, Susie made sure the girl would have no second thoughts nor retreat from her request to be lapped. She pressed puckered lips to the nub, softly sucked it in, and when she had it, pulled from side to side.
"Aug-hh!" Carla cried. "I'll cum! You'll make me cum, Susie!"
Sure of herself now, Susie smiled and licked it as she said, "Then you'll want to turn about, Carla. You'll want to suck my big clit, won't you, darling?"
"No-o! I've never – I wouldn't dream of…"
Susie smiled, sent her tongue slithering down the grooves between the jellied inner labia, licked the rim of Carla's vagina, and then for her own pleasure slid her tongue up it and sucked, sucked, drawing even the outer lips into her mouth.
Carla went wild.
She was thrashing about, her hips jerking. Glancing up, Susie saw her grab her own titties and pull, wrench them, rough the nipples.
Carla, you hot cunt you! And in five minutes you'll be sucking my clit, darling, oh yes you will!
"My cum, oh I'm cumming, Susie, lap me, suck my cunt, please lap and suck my CUNT!"
Susie almost strangled on the juices spilling down her throat.
She stopped sucking, swallowed, rose to the fiercely swollen clit, licked and lipped it as the girl writhed and shrieked through orgasm.
But Susie heard other voices.
Rumbling male voices. One subdued, the other a howl, a roar, a bellow.
She looked on the left over Carla's white thigh to the stairway and saw their husbands standing there, Brian and Clayton with bulging eyes fixed on the spectacle.
The greater noise came from Brian.
Naturally, Susie thought. Because he sees his wife lapping cunt. After all, Clayton's wife is passive, just sprawled on the couch letting a woman eat her pussy.
Brian, it tastes delicious. You should try it. You've never lapped mine, have you? No, you're all straight man, just ram it up her hole and shoot your load, then turn over and go to sleep.
Because women are just cunts, aren't they, Brian? Just house slaves with holes conveniently located between their legs, into which a guy can jam his cock and work off the load in his balls, get rid of it, haul his ashes, shoot his wad.
If only you knew how good it feels to have a tongue wagging in that hole you make use of, Brian.
But you wouldn't care. Giving pleasure is unmanly. You just take.
Susie heard loud voices, saw figures jerk into movement, heard Carla's scream of anguish when she saw the two men.
But Susie continued eating pussy until something with the iron strength of a bear trap clamped on her hair and lifted her away.
"Filthy, degenerate, perverted cunt!" her husband shrieked.
Susie was laughing. Hysterical?
She had known the men would find time from their billing system and ball game to look in downstairs. There would be a hundred reasons for it; wanting a female slave to make them a snack or mix drinks.
Yes, she had done it on purpose, had used poor darling Carla, because she had to tell Brian, had to show him that everything had changed.
"No wonder you're a lousy fuck!" Brian yelled. "Because you're lesbian, a cunt-lapping butch dyke lesbo bitch! Because you eat hair pie, you lap smelly cunts, you shitting degenerate slut!"
Susie could hear her own ringing laughter.
She was on her knees, still held by the hair, facing his crotch. That protruding knob, God, did he have a hard on? Was mistreating a woman what got him hard?
She heard Carla's weeping and Clayton's voice strained and rasping, more shocked than angry.
Brian's fingers were knotted into her hair, his grip cruelly tight, as though to rip the hair from her scalp.
She gazed at the bulge of his cockhead. She grinned wolfishly. Her hands clawed. Her lips drew back, baring her teeth, and as she clawed for it she thrust in with her mouth yawning.
Her fingernails hooked into thigh, into half-hard meaty cock, striking so viciously that she almost tore the material of his pants.
She bit the hard knob.
Oh, she bit his pants, and his undershorts cushioned it, and he jerked back so rapidly that she got only a nip, hardly put a tooth on it, not the vampirish stab of fangs that she had wanted.
But it served. Brian cried out in pain and rage and let go of her hair, thrusting backward. His calves struck the couch and he spilled onto it.
By then Susie was gone.
She scrambled to her feet while lunging toward the stairway, ran with her bare titties hopping and flagging about in the tangle of her loosened bra. She ran laughing, barefoot, vaulting up the stairs to the hall, out through the Clayton kitchen, out the kitchen door, across the lawn toward Brian's car. Our car, she called it, my car she said, and fuck you, Brian, I hope your cock hurts where I bit it, I hope there's blood on your pants!
She tore open the car door and reached under the driver's seat for the emergency key. She snatched it out and had started the car when Brian burst out the kitchen door.
She let him get halfway to the car before she shoved the shift into reverse and stamped on the gas, left the drive like a cork out of a bottle.
She careened out into the street yanking the wheel hard over, arching back to the curb, a boot-legger's turn, banged into drive as Brian came galloping down the drive.
She sent the car roaring off while she laughed at him.
Laughed through tears, which now gushed down her cheeks.
She drove two blocks and pulled up for a traffic light. She opened the glove compartment and took out the pint of whiskey that Brian kept there. She bit the cap and unscrewed the bottle from it as she drove on. She spat out the cap and took a jolt of straight whiskey, then stood the bottle between her legs, snuggling it to her naked pussy.
One breast was tangled in her bra, the other bare. Both jiggled as the car jarred through potholes in the street. She drew up for another stop light. Next to her a car braked and she saw two young guys looking at her.
"Bare tits!" one of them laughed.
She sneered at them, picked up the pint and gulped more whiskey.
Like that she drove home.
Where else could she go without money, without shoes? She had not even a lipstick or comb. She reeked of cunt juice. She licked it from her lips.
Brian had called her a lesbian cunt…
Maybe her seduction of Carla had its cruel side. But love with a girl was not wrong just because Brian called it perverted.
She had a third nip at the bottle as she wheeled into the drive, and across her back lawn saw the three-story rise of the Gothic Horror, the Pageant, the Zoo, Howard's Horny Haven, that house of gentle sensuality, of kindness, generosity. She got out carrying the bottle, leaving the key in the ignition and the car door open. She would take the bottle as a gift.
At the latticework gate she paused, saw that even today the Morning Glories had vined higher on the wire fence. Soon enough they would cut off the last view from her house.
She had another drink, thinking that she would have to be on one side of the Morning Glories or the other.
She opened the gate, went in and climbed the porch steps. There was a light in the kitchen. Outside the last pink of day was fading.
In the kitchen she heard a jingling sound, like tiny bells.
She called, "It's Susie from next door," and went in.
A girl was making tea. Susie did not know her. This had to be Willa, Phil's girl friend, a blond much tinier than Susie would have guessed from Nick's water color sketch. She was wearing an absurd collection of beads and bracelets, bangles and rings. She had green eyes, huge in a heart-shaped little face, a figure eel-slim except for pouty breasts half concealed by bead necklaces. From a bead belt strings of beads hung over her pussy and also in her rear cleft, leaving her plumply rounded white hips bare. A dozen bracelets adorned each arm and more jangled on her ankles while her fingers and toes glittered with glass-knobbed rings.
She said, "Susie, you've been in a fight?"
Susie glanced at her tangled clothing. "I won," she grinned.
Then she went to Willa and gave her the expected tongue kiss.
The soft wetness of the girl's mouth and the slippery vining of her little tongue quite took Susie's breath away. Besides that, a hand cupped on her one completely bare breast, brushed tantalizingly over the cap. The caress left no doubt in Susie's mind that Willa shared Rita's swinging view, and she responded by caressing a round little hip and firm ass cheek, both as slick as marble, but warm, deliciously warm.
"Welcome to the Zoo," Willa breathed when their lips had parted. "Susie, you're even tastier-looking than I'd heard, even though Phil said you gave him the hardest erection of his life. Made me jealous, that did."
Susie saw dark glints in the girl's green eyes and a certain flaring of her tiny nostrils.
"You're angry about that?" she asked.
Willa sighed. "Our rule is, no jealousy. I don't own Phil. But I have a temper. Well, a cup of tea will settle me down. Are you joining us for tea?"
"May I?"
Willa grinned. "Hey, girl, they'd kill me if I turned you away. The fight you were in – was it with your husband?"
Susie nodded.
Willa said, "I had a husband once, the asshole. Well, screw him. Are you going to put on a costume? Everybody's done up for masquerade tonight."
Susie remembered the pint of whiskey in her hand. She set it down beside the teapot.
"Great," Willa said. "I'll spike the Kashmir Karma with it."
Susie started off toward the wardrobe. At the door, Willa called and she paused.
The girl said, "I heard about your oversize clit, Susie. I'm more jealous of that than about your making Phil so hard."
Susie laughed.
Willa seemed like fun, she thought. A bit prickly, maybe, but full of life.
In the wardrobe she took down her wood-nymph tunic, pressed the soft material to her face and in its warm security thought of the horrible moment when, sucking Carla's cunt, licking the girl through orgasm, the men had appeared.
How long had they been watching?
Would Brian dare follow her here?
I'm a worm who has turned, Brian. And don't forget that word worm, because my clit is sort of earthwormy, long and slick and pink, and it's mine, it's me, and Willa is jealous of it. I guess it is abnormal, and I know that to you my lesbian side seems perverted but I have some friends who like me, Brian, who are fond of me and horny for me. So there.
Susie stripped off her dress and tangled bra, hung them up and slipped into the tunic, sighing sensually as the feathery softness settled on her left shoulder and breast and molded to her hips. She went to the swing room and found a comb. Susie preened her hair before the mirror on the back of the door and stroked her bare right breast, arousing the cap to its conical protuberance. She felt kittenishly sensual. She made a purring sound. She turned up her skirt and studied her pussy, the lip hair still moist and inclined to mat. The pink nub of her clit gleamed through the furriness. She thought, It's rather shaggy twat hair! Pleasantly soft to the touch, but somewhat uneven.
Gwen had suggested shaving it, to show off her clit and be proud of its abnormal length.
What would Brian think of that!
Still combing, she went to the chest of drawers and found some lipstick scattered among the jiji eggs. She chose a tube, salmon-colored, smeared her lips before the mirror and then the cap of her exposed breast. That made her giggle.
Hearing voices in the library, she went there and found the gang sitting on the floor around a low, Japanese-style table, drinking tea from bamboo cups, Willa in her beads, Rita wearing a sarong and leis – flower necklaces, Gwen in a silky green turban and a diaphanous sari of saffron muslin spiraled gracefully about her. Nick had on his baseball cap and shorts, no need to costume, or did his beard serve that purpose? Howard wore a sarong like his wife's and doubled leis, and Phil a kilt in red and black plaid. And what did a Scotsman wear under his kilt? Pink nylon panties?
Susie was smiling broadly, her eyes misty with affection as she kissed each of her odd friends in turn. She had not previously seen them all together, and they seemed terribly strange in their clashing colors, each dressed to act out a fantasy.
She took a bamboo cup of Kashmir Karma spiked with Brian's whiskey and sat watching Howard, in conversation with Willa, stroking her thigh. As Willa had just said, jealousy was barred, and Rita beamed at the two of them while swinging her cup to the beat of the rock music coming from the next room.
Phil was sitting cross-legged, his kilt piled over his crotch. Was he wearing pink panties?
What were they talking about? The vegetable garden, the wallpaper design Nick and Susie had painted, how Willa had just been promoted from secretary to administrative assistant at her office. She would rather have a pay raise, she said.
A half cup of tea softened Susie, broadened her smile, filled her with a sensual glow. Thus when she spoke to Gwen, who sat beside her, she caressed the girl's hand and arm to gain her attention. And Gwen, likewise feeling no pain, returned the gesture as she turned to Susie.
Susie whispered, "Gwen, I want to shave it off."
Gwen gazed down at Susie's crotch, veiled by the blue tunic skirt. She murmured, "If you are ready. If you wish to flaunt it, to show off your pussy, especially your clit."
To be honest, Susie knew she wanted to do it as a slap in Brian's face, a challenge, a show of independence.
But she said, "I want to be proud of me, every inch of me!"
"Take a minute to think it over." Susie did, and drank down her tea. Then she told Gwen she was ready.
What Susie had had in mind was simply snip snip with a scissors, lather and razor, but Gwen did not do things that way.
Susie found herself lying nude on the yoga platform, a cushion under her behind. Gwen, Rita, and Willa hovered over her, having ordered the men to remain in the library. Solemnly they watched as Gwen scissored away mound hair.
Each snip pulled the hair, tugged her crotch, and maybe it was the effect of the tea and whiskey, but the snipping felt as sexy as tongue-lashes in her slit. And the girls bowed over her. Their titties hung out. That warmed her. She reached out to caress Rita's hand and Willa's smooth thigh. This act, she guessed, was like their costuming, a means of projecting into fantasy. Or simply a way of looking anew at themselves?
She probed the bead skirt hanging between Willa's legs, found fleecy pussy hair that she stroked while the scissors snipped and tufts of hair piled up in a lacquered bowl that Rita held. Then came the lathering, with a brush painting coolness down each side to her anus and beyond. They had made her jack up her legs. She was utterly exposed, and every stroke of the brush, now the razor, made her vagina twitch wetly. Willa began stroking her tittie, and she smiled on seeing the crown bloat. Her eyelids became leaden, and she gazed with lust at the three girls as her pussy was slowly scraped smooth, and foamy stuff piled up on the hair in the bowl.
The girls murmured together. Susie was too intent on the operation to notice what they said. Willa rose and went away, shortly returned with a fresh pot of tea. Gwen used a damp cloth to wipe away the last traces of lather, then carefully dried her with a towel, which glided smoothly over her skin.
Susie felt pampered, loved, secure, content to lie here forever. But it was done and they raised her to a sitting position and poured tea, and the three sat silently sipping it.
She wanted to see her new self. They took her to the swing room mirror, and there she saw the new Susie with a surprisingly plump and broad white mound, with cunt lips that looked simply huge, a snugly joined halving of her crotch, but from it protruded a shiny pink nubbin, ever so tiny compared to the expanse of shaven white flesh.
"So little!" she sighed.
But Rita changed all that. She dropped to her knees on the floor and pressed her lips to the nubbin.
A quick suck pulled it out of hiding and oh, goodness, when Rita had moved from the mirror view it stuck out like a small, glistening prick! And like that, naked, Susie went to the library and stood smiling at the men.
They rose, hugged her, all aware that this was no whim, that her pride was on the line. They fingered her hot little gadget, kissed her, fondled her breasts, patted her behind, and she found herself sitting on the Japanese-style table with a fresh bamboo cup of tea, utterly happy.
Brian, if you could see me!
Nick and Willa were dancing to rock music, snapping their fingers. Gwen and Rita had Howard in a corner and were teasing him, rubbing his nipples and belly. A hard on tented his sarong.
Phil sat on the table beside Susie. She vined her hands about his bare arm, kissed his shoulder while gazing down at his kilt.
She asked, "And why the kilt?"
"See, drag was just an annoyance, right? But men wear skirts, and this feels fine. Besides, it's to make you ask what a Scotsman wears under his kilt." He laughed.
She did not ask. She slipped her hand under the heavy woolen plaid and found nylon cramping his erection. She giggled, raised the kilt and saw that it was indeed pink!
As she had done the other day, she plunged her hand inside the panty waistband, and knuckling the panty crotch, washed her fingertips over the rigid shank of his cock and the scrotum hugged by a garment meant to fit a pussy.
She whispered, "You told Willa you'd never been so hard as when you were inside me."
"It's true. Though I told her that when we were in bed, and I'd already fucked her through a string of cums. I mean, I think I'm over a lot of hang-ups, Susie. Listen, don't worry what Willa says, she can't keep her hands off my cock now and she doesn't really care about the means of success. She's practical."
"Well, it's a lovely cock," Susie said, squeezing the horny thing in his panties.
Phil groaned, squirming, abruptly throwing an arm about her and squeezing her close, whispering hoarsely, "Susie, it's so bony hard it hurts. Let me slip it into you. I want to feel your naked pussy – Susie, please?"
Still delightedly fondling the rocky organ, she kissed his cheek and whispered, "Yes, right now! Where?"
"Here! On the table."
"But goodness – the others…"
He answered by clearing bamboo cups from the table and laying her down on it, unhitching his kilt and dropping it. He shoved his pink nylon panties down just enough that his cock flipped free, that big-knobbed red cock curving upward, and he knelt between Susie's spraddled legs.
The speed of his actions took her breath away but she did have time to reach to the floor and find one of the cushions that were scattered about. She tucked it under her head to give herself a view of her plump mound and hairless split with the thorny pink clit standing out in bold view just as Phil lowered himself and the massive red head of his cock dropped out of sight.
She felt it sludge into her vaginal mouth, which was shamelessly open. For just a second the male organ lodged in the opening, and then as she reshaped to fit, it squeezed up her hole.
"Susie, you're sopping wet in there!"
Smiling, she spread her legs wider and drew them back, straightening her vagina. Phil lunged and his cock slid in until his pubes mashed her cuntlips.
She could feel every hair pressing her split and her outer lips as well. Her labia were super-sensitive from the shaving.
Phil dropped down on her, heavy on her hot breasts, nibbling her ear and kissing her throat, already hip-jerking so the big-knobbed male organ rippled in and out of her vagina.
She felt juices seep out around his cock and run down her behind, wetting her anus.
She crossed her legs on his back, braced her heels on his spine and gave a voluptuous hump.
She thought, Oh, gosh, so hot and wet, wow, and how my clit squeezes to him, how horny it is and wow, there I go all steaming and my cunt flowing in waves around his meat!
The others were watching them. She glimpsed that but ignored it, wound her arms over his shoulders and hugged Phil as she began humping regularly, meeting his sludging cockthrusts, hearing the loud sucks and squishes of cock in cunt, and then the slap of his testicles on her ass.
She bit his ear and whispered, "Such good cock! Give me cock, Phil darling, oh lots of hard cock up my hole, yes fuck me fuck me Fuck me!"
The cum was a rolling, steamy convulsion seizing her belly and closing it on his greasy prick, stripping it, then collapsing, growing big like a balloon.
She heard herself moaning, "My cunt is a wet balloon, fuck my balloon, Phil, give it lots of cock, more cock, give me all the cock you have, Phil!"
She held him knotted in clenching arms and legs, squeezed her ass in tight as she shut her vagina on the plunging length, all tied up on him and grinding, hips grinding her naked pussy at his hairy loins.
Then she shrieked, "I'm cumming! Oh-hh, my cunt is going off all bursting, Phil!"
Her knotted body tightened, crushing him, and he drove to the depths of her hole and screwed around, dug her, not backing at all, rooting in her convulsing belly as Susie grew wings and flew through the sky like a bird with its tail on fire.
She had collapsed, lay spread-eagled on the table, panting as Phil's cock slid in and out of her jellied fuckhole.
Her cum had blown but she lay there smiling lewdly, letting herself be fucked.
They had screwed around to a diagonal on the table. Her left arm hung toward the floor and her right foot touched it.
"Worn out?" he asked.
"Save your breath for fucking," Susie told him, grinning.
She heard laughter.
Phil was up on his elbows, grunting as his ass jacked up. He had risen off her breasts. Idly she plucked a nipple, tugged it and felt a spiral of heat worm from it down inside her to her vagina.
The yawning, jellied flesh there began to firm up.
She raised a leg and heeled Phil's buttocks. Bracing, she pulled at her vaginal sphincter and felt a flutter, an awakening.
"I'm going to start another cum," she told him.
Her voice sounded loud. Nobody was talking. She glanced around and saw they were all looking toward the hall doorway.
She craned to look toward it.
Her husband, Brian, was standing there as tall as a tree, his face the color of newly sliced beets.