“Mmm, that feels so nice,” Debbie purred.
“It will take all the tenseness out of those shoulder muscles,” Mavis told her. “You’re all knotted up.”
“Oh, yes. Where did you learn about that?”
“My husband.”
They both laughed.
Mavis’ hands went lower, working their way down Debbie’s spine. She rubbed until the blonde’s entire upper back was covered with a rich, foamy lather.
“Oh, the way you use your hands. It just makes me tingle all over.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Mavis knelt and began soaping the back of Debbie’s lower body. Her fingers pinched the plump flesh knowingly, caressingly. It quivered under her touch, turned pink and then was covered with suds. Mavis lingered over the deep cleft, cleansing it deeply, but using her fingers very gently. Debbie moaned, wriggled a bit, shifted her legs to afford closer contact. Finally Mavis went on to quickly soap up the length of the arched, shapely legs, and then rose to her own feet. “Turnaround,” she instructed Debbie.
Debbie did as she was told, and the two girls’ breasts grazed against each other as they faced. “You know,” Debbie said, looking deep into Mavis’ green eyes, “this is quite a switch for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re washing me and‘ sort of coddling me and making me feel so wonderful and all. It’s supposed to be the other way around. I’m the one who’s supposed to please the customer.”
“You do please me. And don’t worry, you shall have the opportunity to please me much more. Meanwhile, my greatest pleasure is in giving you pleasure, my most exciting thrill in thrilling you. You’ve had enough experience, Debbie, to know that one often becomes most sexually stimulated by stimulating another.”
“Yes,” Debbie agreed as Mavis’ fingers caressed her ears and trailed foam over the sensitive length of her neck. “That’s true.”
Mavis stroked her breasts, and the pink roseates seemed to spread like flowers opening their petals. The nipples hardened and quivered, peering through the froth. Then the knowing hands were lathering her hips, rotating them gently. And then her flat little belly was being soaped, the navel gently probed with a rhythm that made Debbie tremble all over. Finally the love-laving went lower, working the suds in ever more gently.
Debbie almost swooned at the intimate touch. Finally she could stand it no longer. She grasped the tantalizing hand in her own and thrust downward holding it fast and squirming as though trying to devour it. She clutched it hotly, liquidly, rose on her toes and all but squatted in her eagerness. Then her body was seized by a prolonged shudder, and she buried her face against Mavis’ breasts until it was over.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she murmured as the tension spurted from her. She took the pleasure-giving hand between her own and covered it with kisses. “You’re wonderful,” she told Mavis, her eyes shining. “Now let me bathe you.”
Mavis stood quietly as the blonde, still trembling, covered her body with foam. But as the red fingernails reached between her legs, Mavis grasped Deb- bie’s wrist and stayed her hand. “Wait,” she told her softly.
“But why?”
“Because passion delayed is twice as good. Please. You’ll see. Let me do it my way.”
“All right.”
“First let’s rinse ourselves off,” Mavis instructed.
The girls frolicked under the water, splashing each other, washing the soap from each other’s bodies. Then Mavis abruptly shut off the hot water tap and forced Debbie to stand under the icy spray with her. She turned up the cold water and laughed as the younger girl broke out in goose pimples. She herself found it exhilarating, felt her small, upthrust breasts swell proudly against the cold, felt the inner warmth of her body more acutely in contrast to it.
“P-P-Please,” Debbie shivered. “I’ll turn into an ice-cube.”
“All right, you sissy,” Mavis said fondly. “I’ll take pity on you.” She turned on the hot water tap again. “Now watch,” she told Debbie. “This is the best part of all.” She reached up and adjusted the nozzle. Instead of drops of water, a fihe spray filled the stall now. She turned down the cold water even more, and the glassed-in booth began to fill with steam.
“Why, it’s just like having your own steam room,” Debbie exclaimed.
“Even better, because the space is so small. The steam penetrates every pore of your body. This is what I meant before by waiting. This makes me feel like I’m aflame from top to toe.” Mavis reached out and embraced Debbie then.
Her mouth was moist and clinging as she kissed the voluptuous young blonde. Her own love-buds were erect and burning as they pressed into the flesh of Debbie’s breasts. Her nails were sharp as they raked the girl’s back with unthinking urgency.
“Kiss me here.” Mavis pressed Debbie’s mouth to her breast, her fingers lost in the tangle of blonde hair as the lips enveloped her, sucking deeply, tongue flicking like live flame over the erect tip of her breast. “And now here.” She pushed down gently on Debbie’s head and the girl sank to her knees, lost in the vapor filling the shower-stall.
The steam rose around them as if it were the visible evidence of passion exuded by Mavis herself. Her legs were spread now, thighs clenching Debbie’s head, shutting out the sound, pulsating with the movements of the voracious mouth raised against her. With a surge of passion she descended to it then, thrusting downward to fulfillment, holding Debbie just where she wanted her. And then again. And again. And again.
Finally the girls stumbled from the shower, their bodies moving dully, without coordination, drained of control by the overwhelming surge of their lust. They dried each other with large Turkish towels, slowly, languidly, enjoying the touch and sight and sex-smell of one another’s flesh. They combed and brushed each other’s hair with lazy, strengthless strokes. Then they ambled back into the bedroom.
“Here’s a robe you can wear.” Mavis tossed Debbie quilted silk kimono of a deep blue hue. She selected a white terrycloth robe reaching to the knees for herself. She tied it and looked ruefully at her reflection in the mirror. “Shall I confess something to you, Debbie?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“Despite all my psychological orientation and motivational know-how, I still feel deprived-childishly petulant, almost—because I have such a lousy figure.”
“But you don’t!” Debbie protested. “You have a lovely, slender body. Most women would give their right eye for your kind of slim attractiveness.”
“Nonsense! I’m small-busted and I have no hips, and I know it. And I don’t like it. And every so often I give in to being immature and feeling damned underprivileged about it.”
“Your bust may be small, Mavis, but it’s firm and beautifully shaped. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
“It’s all right, I suppose. At least it is when I don’t have any clothes on. But when I dress, no matter what I do, I look as flat as a board. Just look at me now. For all the shape I’ve got, there might be peewee marbles under this terrycloth.”
“Well that’s easily fixed.” Debbie crossed over to her. She reached inside Mavis’ robe and lifted her breasts, squeezing them together. Then she arranged the material. When she was through, she stepped back, surveyed her handiwork, and smiled impishly. “There! Now what do you think of yourself?” She spun Mavis back towards the mirror.
Mavis looked at her reflection, and pleasure spread over her face. “You’ve certainly made me look sexy,” she admitted. Instead of covering her breasts, the terrycloth now supported and framed them. They shimmered like large twin pears in the lamplight, golden and scarlet-tipped. “But if I go outside this way,” she laughed, “I’ll get arrested.”