“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what to say! I --” Glory turned brick red and stammered as Wilma wiped her hand calmly on the towel.
“Don’t be silly. And stop blushing,” Wilma told her. “It was really what you wanted. It gave you pleasure. And it gives me pleasure to give you pleasure.”
“But it’s -- it's not right. Is it?”
“Glory, honey, anything that gives pleasure is right.”
“But isn’t it unnatural?”
“Is it? Let me ask you something. Haven’t you ever touched yourself there? Haven’t you found it pleasant? Haven’t you perhaps gone right on touching yourself until—Well, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Glory hung her head.
“Well, don’t be ashamed of it. Every woman does that some time or other. Every normal woman, anyway. And lots of women do it regularly. Not that any of them will admit it.”
“But that’s alone,” Glory said, “in private.”
“Pleasure is to be shared with friends,” Wilma told her.
“You know so much, Wilma. The way you say it, it all seems so right. But up until now, all I’ve ever gotten out of sex has been heartbreak. Does it have to be that way?”
“No, honey. Not at all. You just let me show you what joy it can be.”
“All right, Wilma. Show me,” she said hesitantly.
“I will.” Wilma stretched out alongside Glory then and took her in her arms. She kissed her deeply and Glory kissed back eagerly. Wilma’s hands moved over her body and Glory began to caress her in return. This kept on for a while until both girls were whimpering with the heat of their passion. Suddenly, Wilma sat up.
“What’s the matter?” Glory asked.
“Nothing. Just sit the way I show you.” Wilma was panting as hard as Glory now. She spread her legs wide apart and indicated that Glory should sit between them with her knees grasping Wilma’s hips as Wilma’s knees were clutching hers. After a little manipulation they were positioned just as Wilma wanted them, face-to-face, pussy to pussy.
The redhead’s hard nipples stabbed Glory’s large, tender, sunburned breasts. “They’re so hot and hard!” Glory exclaimed.
“My tits? Yes, they are. Because you make them that way. Because you get me so excited, the cream just runs out from between my legs.”
“l can feel it. I can feel it mixing with mine. And I can feel your clitty all hard and wet too!”
“Suck my tits!” Wilma told her.
Glory ducked her head and caught Wilma’s distended nipple between her lips. “Like this?” she asked after a minute.
“Harder!”
Glory pulled as much of Wilma’s small breast as she could into her mouth. She licked the nipple and sucked hard on the breast itself. Soon she was virtually gobbling.
She learns fast. Greedy little bitch. God, she’s stacked. What a pair of jugs. . . Look at her go at it! She really digs sucking titty! It's getting her so hot the juice is pouring out from between her legs, Look at that plump cunt of hers throb against mine. I can feel her clitty jerking. . . Me too. The way she’s eating my tit is gonna make me come. I can feel it in my snatch! All the way up it. I’m creaming now and so is she!
The mutual orgasm was excruciatingly stirring to Glory. As the most sensitive parts of their bodies quivered and grew against one another, Glory felt as if her flesh must explode. And, finally, explode it did, at the same carefully timed moment as Wilma let herself go, and the two bodies rose as one in a long drawn-out moment of searing fulfillment. They collapsed side by side, exhausted. After a while, Wilma lit two cigarettes and handed one to Glory. “Well, my darling?” she asked.
“Oh! There are no words!” said Glory breathlessly. “It was sublime! I never knew—” All traces of embarrassment were gone.
“There are lots of things you never knew. But I’m going to teach them all to you, my sweet.”
“Oh, yes. Please. Teach them to me. Oh, I love you!”
Glory was still too caught up in her own emotions to realize the implications of what she was saying. “You know so much, Wilma,” she said admiringly. “How did you learn it all?” “
“I’ve been around.”
“Really? But I thought you’d spent your whole life in Glenville,” she said, still breathless.
“No. I was away for four years. New Orleans, Miami, other places.”
“Oh, tell me all about it. What did you do? Did you work? What kind of job did you have?”
Wilma told her about how she’d worked as a cigarette girl and later as a stripper. She didn’t say anything about her stint as a “specialty girl” in a brothel. She didn’t want to shock her too much all at once. And what she did tell her had the desired effect of making Glory even more intrigued with her.
That was the start of it. And right from the beginning, Wi1ma’s knowledge of sex gave her dominance over Glory. She called the shots. All except one-one which didn’t matter to her as it did to Glory.
It came up after they’d made love on their next visit to the pond a few days later. “We can’t go on making love here in the open like this,” Glory protested. “I’m afraid someone will see us.”
“All right. How about your room at home then?”
“Oh, no! Suppose the Henshaws found out?”
“You don’t have to worry about the Henshaws.”
“Of course I do! They might tell my father.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t.”
“Don’t be silly, Wilma. Why wouldn’t they?” Glory wanted to know.
Wilma realized that there was no way of explaining to Glory how the Henshaws were under her thumb without giving the rest of her scheme away. She decided it might be better to agree with her. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “But then, where can we go?”
“I was hoping you could think of some place. Some local hotel or motel maybe. I’d be glad to pay for it if it will give us some privacy.”
“We register at a hotel or motel in Glenville, and it’ll be all over town before morning. It don’t matter. Nobody pays any attention to me. But everybody around here’s curious about the New York beauty.”
“I guess you’re right. But how about some roadside place then? Some place not in Glenville, but near enough to be convenient. Some place where they won’t ask any questions.”
Wilma thought about it a moment. Then she snapped her fingers. “Got it!” she said. “Why didn’t I think of it before? The Morton Motor Lodge. That should be perfect.”
“Where is it?”
“About a half hour’s drive from here. Off the road to Little Falls. When they were building the highway about ten years back, Angus Morton put up this bunch of cabins thinking it was going to run right past them. But he goofed. Anyway, the highway’s more than three miles from the lodge. You get to it by a dirt road that runs back through the woods from the highway. It’s cheap, it’s secluded, and the cabins are all separate.”
“It sounds ideal,” Glory said. Then, as an afterthought—“How does he manage to stay in business though. I mean, if he’s so far off the beaten track. Who are his customers?”
“Well, he doesn’t get much tourist trade. That’s for sure. But he runs a roadhouse along with it, and the kids from Glenville and Little Falls both go there to eat and drink and dance.”
“Then isn’t there a chance we might be seen?”
“There’s always that chance, of course. But the way the place is set up, if we’re careful there’s no reason we should be. The roadhouse part is removed from the cabins, and the cabins are spaced fairly widely apart. There’s a lot of rumors about the Morton Lodge. I’ve heard that hookers work the bar in the roadhouse and that sometimes the men from town go there for pickups. And I’ve also heard that the hanky-panky between married couples in Glenville ends up in the cabins. But there are a few things working in our favor that should make it easy to play it safe.”