At the top of the sliding pond was a petite French girl with curly black hair. She was wearing a very chic black velvet evening gown. It was strapless. At the moment, it was also topless on one side. It had been pulled down to expose one breast—the right one, if I remember rightly.
It was one of those breasts that Bardot32 made synonymous with Gallic sensuality. Not overly big, but very plump and full, exquisitely shaped to an up-tilted tip, nippled berrylike, bright red, and spongily succulent. She was holding on to the railing of the sliding pond with one hand. With her other hand she was fondling and squeezing and pinching the exposed breast. Dark-eyed, she was looking at the black man at the foot of the slide and laughing—obviously teasing and arousing him with her laughter and her self-titillation.
Behind the girl, standing on the top steps of the sliding pond, was another young man, white-pale white— and completely naked. His erect penis—as long as the black man’s, but not as thick—rested on the second step from the top. He wasn’t touching it, but its ivory length was drumming the metal of the step spasmodically. He was kissing the girl’s ears and neck, fondling the bare breast when he could slide her hand away from it, reaching under her to squeeze her derriere.
Her bottom was covered by the black velvet skirt, but his caresses there nevertheless seemed to arouse her. She bent her neck very low and forced her breast tip between her lips. She suckled it so eagerly that soon half of the breast itself vanished into her mouth. At the foot of the slide the black man waved his erect, waiting penis at her invitingly.
Peggy’s raincoat hung open to the waist. As we mounted to the sky, one of her breasts swung out and slapped me across the face. Coming down it settled back into place but its mate repeated the maneuver. Peggy’s breasts were much larger than those of the girl on the sliding pond. They were very soft and very hot as they slapped against my cheeks. The nipples were quite dark and rigid, the aureoles circling them large as half dollars. Inspired by the girl on the slide, I caught one of Peggy’s breasts in my mouth.
Her flesh tasted sweet—very, very sweet. It was like warm marshmallow against the rough surface of my fast-lapping tongue. Her nails dug into the back of my neck, urging me to lick the nipple, the aureole, the breast—to lick and suck and bite.
The brunette on top of the sliding pond had pulled up the skirt of her black velvet dress. The pale young man behind her had both hands under her buttocks now. She wasn’t wearing any panties. The black man at the foot of her slide was looking right up into her quivering vagina. The way his gaze was riveted, he might have been looking deeply enough to count her teeth .
Peggy had pulled her breast from my mouth now and was kissing me. Her mouth was a small oven of flesh, her tongue a probing poker bent on plunging down my throat, her teeth little torture devices to prick my lips and spear my own tongue. One of her arms was locked around my neck so that she wouldn’t lose her perch on my lap on the swing. But her other hand was a fist that kept beating me about the neck and shoulders. The more excited she became, the more her breast flesh seemed virtually to steam with its own heat, the harder she hit and pinched me.
The brunette was going down! Down the sliding pond, I mean. The skirt of her black velvet dress was gathered around her waist. Her one exposed breast zinged through the air like a missile being fired. Her curly black hair was wild in the wind. Her bare bottom was turning red from the friction of the slide. Her mons veneris, covered by a copious triangle of curly black hair, seemed to open wider and wider, like a mouth caught in a powerful yawn, as her descent picked up speed.
Below her, waiting at the bottom of the slide, the black man kept making corrections as to the position and angle of his erect penis. He was doing the aiming; she was out of control. His weapon rose up out of his light-colored pants like some black tower left over from the days of Egypt’s glory, some black obelisk rising up from the sands of the Sahara to pierce the very sky above.
She was about to strike. He moved his pinnacle a quarter-inch to the left. She hit! Right on target! I could hear his grunt clear across the playground. It was followed by the ecstatic trill of her laughter. They began moving slowly, deeply, in concert, a four-legged beast, a double-humped camel, a satyr out of myth attuned to the rutting satisfaction of its own needs. They fucked!
Meanwhile, Peggy had discarded her raincoat altogether. I couldn’t see below her waist because of our position on the swing. But I could feel the hot clutch of the lips of her honey pot as they seized the lump still imprisoned in my trousers.
One of her hands went down to the area. She pulled the zipper. Old Lucifer came leaping out like a bronco who’s been stabled indoors too long and can’t wait to frisk energetically in the open air. Peggy laughed excitedly in my ear. Her tongue darted, flicking some nerve or other there. I felt her nails rasping slightly against the hairy underside of my scrotum.
Over her shoulder, as we rose high in the air again, I saw the young white man careening down the slide. At the bottom the petite French girl was impaled to the hilt atop the black man. They were going at it frantically.
Then the white slider struck. Like the black man before him, he was right on target. Only his target was to the rear of that already engorged by the black cock. He plunged in the rear door to the base of his long, alabaster stem. I heard the French girl’s scream clear across the playground.
She fell forward, atop the black man. His impalement of her wasn’t in danger for even the few brief seconds it took for the three of them to get organized. Nor did the white cock lose its roost as its owner stretched full length atop the fille, his balls bouncing eagerly against the fast-jouncing cheeks of her behind. Twice trapped, she was beside herself with the double sensation, the front-and-rear assault melting her flesh, the forbidden joy of knowing that only the thinnest layer of burning flesh separated the tips of the two men’s organs deep inside her.
Abruptly, Peggy decided to change her position. She braced her feet and stood up on the swing. I was still seated, of course, and she poised facing me, her remarkable crotch on a level with my face.
What made her groin noteworthy, as I mentioned before, was the fact that it was shaved as clean and smooth as the backside of a day-old babe. Also, the plump, round mound in which her nest was set was mounted unusually high up her groin. It was clean-cleft, lips pronounced and vermilion, clitty a deep purple color, oily, projecting, stiff.
As our swing pushed upward, this delicious fruit of her feminity pushed forward into my face. There was the aroma of Chanel Number 5 mixed with a sweet, musky woman-scent. The mound was resilient with a promise of subdued gushiness against the tip of my nose. The netherlips slid against my lips in a feather kiss; they were very warm, and faintly damp; and they managed a clutching pucker which created the suction for our cunnilingus kiss. The clitty on my tongue-tip was oily-sweet, feminine-flavored, hard and thrusting.
Peggy was balanced with her feet on the seat now, maintaining her perch on the swing by holding the top of my head with both hands. In this fashion she also managed to guide my face to where she wanted it, to establish the rhythm her bare glovefinger of love wished from my mouth, to hold and prolong the moments when both our beings seemed concentrated on the contact point between her clitoris and my tongue.
But Peggy didn’t call all the shots. Passion-hungry, I turned my mouth upward and unrolled my tongue full length. I kept it stiff as I probed. I could feel her clitoris quivering down near the base of it while the tip probed the quivering entrance to her womb itself.
In response, the walls of her vagina compressed and squeezed my tongue lovingly. Her thighs, full and sleekly muscled, tightened around my cheeks. The excitingly hairless mound ground down hard against my lips. Now her clitty was like a small penis bent on turning my mouth into the counterpart of a vagina.