When Susie got over the embarrassment of having inserted the jiji, it seemed nothing, a tiny firmness in her belly.
Then Rita kicked off and they were swinging.
Susie had not been on a swing since childhood. It seemed a silly thing to do, sitting here in her wood-nymph costume, one rosy-capped white breast exposed, beside Rita in her sarong, gliding back and forth. She smiled tolerantly.
But after the swing had inscribed its third arc she was staring bug-eyed down at her crotch, which had the feeling of bursting open like a melon. But her thighs were firmly together. Inside, something like the throbbing head of a fiercely engorged penis was wobbling insanely about.
She felt clicks, uneven jarrings as the two roller bearings knocked together and against the plastic jiji. The movements were almost imperceptible. She held her breath to not disrupt the rhythm of that inner wobbling, or to calculate it. But there was no rhythm. The lack of one tantalized her until she began to initiate one, forcing down, sucking back. The egg-shaped blob was everywhere and nowhere.
"Give with it, darling," Rita smiled.
Susie gave, found herself prickling all over, her titties heating, every click of the roller bearings sending waves of sensuality rippling to her very fingertips. She gazed at Rita, who seemed transformed, her dark eyes velvety, her lips so glistening red. And desirable! Susie felt a yearning she could not believe. She wanted – needed – had to – kiss her swing partner!
She touched Rita's face. An arm glided about her neck, softly vining. They neared and a tongue tip slipped from those red lips to meet hers. Liquidly their mouths met, flowed into each other. They turned together and a facing breast melted into Susie's exposed one. She felt the hard growth of nipples, could not guess which was hers.
She was lapping at Rita's mouth, inside it, licking her tongue, and oh, the sweet humid warmth oozed through her to her jiji-rocked vagina, as though Rita's tongue had gone right through there and nudged the plastic gadget about!
Never had she imagined that she could enjoy kissing a girl.
They were breathing hard. She whispered, "Rita, you're so sweet to me. I adore you!"
Rita smiled and nuzzled her cheek. Susie fingered her throat, felt up over the girl's neck into that glossy hair, which clung so sensually to her fingers. She caressed it, stroked the nape of her neck.
The jiji seemed to wallow in an oil bath, every movement softer and less predictable than the one before. It was a hundred times more feminine and gentle than a throbbing penis, yet in its mild way frantically exciting.
Susie was exploring, fingering Rita's velvety cheek, the curl and turn of her ear, each movement a slow, voluptuous adventure. And when her fingers walked downward onto the swell of firm breast it seemed quite natural to stroke the smooth orb, circling it, then finding the center, the rubbery areola as big as her palm and the rigid protrusion of the nipple.
She forked her fingers on it, squeezed, held on for Rita was kissing her throat and the soft, wet mouth sent fiery waves fanning through her flesh.
Rita murmured, "I burn you with my kisses, my love."
Susie had once read the line, a bit from the Song of Bilitis, the love poems of Sappho of Lesbos.
She whispered, "But Rita, I'm not lesbian. Am I?"
"You are my wood-nymph sweetheart."
Fingers brushed at Susie's shoulder. The gauzy material slid down her arm and a palm descended her now-bare left breast and sleekly crossed her stiff nipple.
Moaning with pleasure, she squeezed Rita in closer, and whispered, "If I'm your sweetheart then aren't we lesbians, Rita?"
"Do you want to be?"
"Why, you see, I never thought about it. I mean, can I be something I'm not?"
"Here at the Pageant we think you can find what different things you are, and make each one beautiful, something to be proud of. I love you and I can love a man, and love myself, which people say amounts to narcissism, and its act is called masturbation. But masturbation can be proud and beautiful."
Susie reflected on this. "I'm quite confused, Rita."
"Yes, sweetheart, because you thought sex was just a man pronging your hole. That's why in a moment I am going to leave you here to study yourself, discover the effect of Kashmir Karma tea dissolving your hangups and wetting your pussy, swinging your jiji, while you face up to a Susie you may not have known."
"Don't leave me!"
"Trust me, sweetheart. Now kiss me, and fondle my breast and I'll swing through a cum, then go take care of some kitchen things."
Susie felt tears in her eyes. Clinging to Rita like this, she had hopes that lesbianism would be a simple answer, a perversion she had never suspected but which might explain her unhappy relations with her husband. Now Rita hinted that the cause of her ecstasy was Kashmir Karma and the jiji rather than mere lust for another female.
Their mouths met, squashily sucking, and oh the thrill of licking her lover's slippery tongue! And clutching her big, firm breast, feeling the huge nipple bore at her palm. Rita kicked the swing high and as they lurched downward through the arc the jiji in Susie's vagina seemed to turn end over end in bubbly hot froth, yummy delicious, sweet thrill far short of orgasm but really just as good.
Then Rita's tongue shot into her mouth, and the girl moaned, stiffened, writhed, flung about the seat.
"MY cum-m-m!" she moaned. "There, I've cum, oh my sweetest lollipop I've cum in your arms, dear wood-nymph Susie!"
Spasms shook her to a jelly within Susie's embrace.
Rita had sprawled against her, panting, for some moments.
Then the girl slid from her grasp, off the swing. She retied her sarong. The way her dark nipples jutted, Susie thought them like thumbs.
Rita went to the hall door, which stood open, and Susie, on noticing that, thought, Goodness, anyone could have looked in and seen us!
Rita said, "I'll close the door. The back is a mirror. I want you to look at yourself, and perhaps you'll see what I see."
Her lips formed a kiss. She touched two fingers to it and tossed them at Susie, then went out, shutting the door behind her.
The door was broad, the mirror large enough to show the whole double swing. Susie closed her eyes, not wanting to look at herself. She wriggled to the center of the swing and pushed back, let herself go while concentrating on the moving little egg shape buried in her belly.
It clicked, wobbled, swam about in the frothy juice, and from it gentle waves of heat seeped throughout her body. She smiled. How gently exciting! Yes, it was rather like the head of a penis throbbing inside her.
She heard the trilling song of a canary.
She looked upward, avoiding the mirror, saw the golden little bird in a gilded cage, and in another a parakeet bow-leggedly and comically climbing a tilted perch. She smiled. And the room smelled of flowers and green growth.
She grasped the velvet-sheathed chains leading to the ceiling. How sensual velvet was! And birds and flowers, and swinging almost nude, wearing only the mesh-like blue wood-nymph costume with a single shoulder and a see-through skirt. It was not under her behind. She sat on soft silkiness.
At last she gazed at her mirror image.
The dress shoulder still hung down her arm. She raised it in place and studied the blue-eyed blonde girl on the swing, with her one white breast exposed. The pink areola had puffed out, extending the nipple so that together they formed a rather large cone. Never before had this breast cap appeared so turgid. But then, never had it pressed another woman's boob, nor been stimulated by butter-soft female fingers. Susie stroked it, watched it become ever more bulgy and shiny. Could Kashmir Karma have done this, altered her senses? Goodness but I'm big titted, she thought.
She gazed at the skirt, like a blue mist over her upper thighs, shadowing her pussy but in no way hiding the blonde-brown fluffiness. And her clit, what had Kashmir Karma done to it? Certainly, it felt terribly hot and swollen.
She was afraid to look.
But the seeming hugeness of her breast cap did arouse her curiosity, and at last she drew back her skirt and spread her legs.
The pink nubbin stood right out of her pussy hair.
Gasping with astonishment, she slipped a finger in under it, and oh that horny prong did look like a little boy's prick, standing right out of the glossy notch, an inch of it. Or longer?
She tweaked it between thumb and forefinger.
"Oh-h-h-h!"
Hot! Sizzling, on fire, and suddenly she was swinging hard, the cockhead jiji wobbling and throbbing maniacally in her vagina, her fingers tugging the clit-prick out ever longer and flames shooting throughout her body.
She watched herself squirm on the swing, saw its pendulous movement become erratic as she switched about. Her face flamed. Legs spread, she saw her vaginal mouth seem to gulp, suck and blow, a glossy red little convulsing hole dribbling juices.
Faster and faster she twiddled her clitoris, stretching it, poking it in under its hood, wresting it about, treating it like a light switch and then a doorbell, then pulling, pulling…
"Wow!" Susie cried. "I'm cum-ming like crazy!"
The flush of orgasm had descended from her face, down her throat, pinked her exposed tit. The cap of this swelled out as though to burst. She clapped a hand to it, squeezed while stretching her clit.
She shrieked, hips jerking wildly now, her behind flagging about the padded silky seat, the swing rocking and tossing.
Inside her the clicking roller bearings raced, clattered, jarred her vagina in the lightest, most delicious way, as though a butterfly were up her hole and flapping crazily.
Then she saw her mouth go round and small, her eyes huge. She was hissing like a punctured tire, then gasping, swallowing air as her face turned beet-red.
She saw herself peak, heard her cunt gurgling, felt her clit pop like shooting bubbles out at the mirror.
Then, slumped into a heap on the swing, she was smiling at her mirror image.
"I like you, Susie," she said.
Her hips still moved, but slower, as she humped more feebly, descending from the heights of orgasm.
She watched the little egg-shaped jiji fill the mouth of her vagina. Cupping a hand under it, she squeezed her sphincter muscle, and there, it popped right out!
She got off the swing and took the jiji to the chest of drawers where Rita had gotten it. She found a box of tissues, wiped it clean and put it in a box with several others, of which it was now the smallest.
There were combs in the drawer. She took one and, facing the mirror, tidied her hair. She thought, Really, I look nice in this outfit, the blue going very well with my eyes, the exposed breast a quite lovely orb, to tell the truth. And though my pussy hair shows through, everybody knows I have hair down my belly and between my legs, don't they? Fortunately my clit snuggles down into the lip folds when soft, and I can see only a faint pink glistening under the fur.
Susie put away the comb and opened the mirror door, venturing into the hall. She heard not a sound in the house except for the bird twitterings behind her. She recalled that the wardrobe was to the left, the library ahead. She decided to retrace the course she and Rita had taken from the kitchen, which took her first to the library.
It was a pleasant room, had a nice big window, so many hundreds of colorful book bindings, the couch and footstools and floor cushions all in different hues.
On one shelf lay a pack of cigarettes and matches. She took a cigarette and lit it, then thought, Goodness, I shouldn't just take things! But Rita had made her feel so welcome, as though she belonged here, that, she simply sat down on a footstool, hugging her knees, and smoked the cigarette.
She noted that she smelled strongly of pussy.
Normally her instinct would be to rush to the bathroom and wash up, take a douche if possible. But she felt rather lazy, much relaxed by that big fat cum on the swing, and the odor somehow pleased her.
Glancing over the bookshelves she saw An Encyclopedia of Sexology.
She rose and took out Volume C. The shelf was broad enough to lay the book open on it. She paged through to clitoris, found the opening line, "A small organ in the anterior vulva, homologous to the male penis. The focal point of female sexual sensation."
She flipped through the pages and found an astonishing picture, a naked black woman with a plumpish appendage dangling out of her vulval lips, four or five inches long!
She scanned the description. "Arrifra tribe of West Africa, practices clitoridectomy, incision of the clitoris and lengthening by manipulation – including hanging objects from it…"
Goodness! she thought.
She heard a voice say, "Susie."
A male voice. She glanced at the doorway, saw Phil standing there, still wearing his pink panties stretched out to a tent before him by a massive erection.
He said, "Susie, I apologize for leering at you. But gosh, your ass just sends me. I mean I'd like to lick it all over. And nibble. I mean, just sit down on a footstool and feast on ass cheeks."
Susie was too startled to speak, but what she thought was, Oh, my goodness!