But he'd make no move to put it inside her. It wasn't his arousal that mattered. It was hers. And hers could only be dealt with satisfactorily by what happened next And what happened next was a beautiful and secret thing that no man had ever done to her, that she'd never had the nerve to ask a man to do to her. And although, as she lay back to enjoy it all, she might think of the big and straining penis, its trembling head aquiver with passion, its sweetly delicate eye pulsing forth with a single silvery drop of delicious-looking dew as it all but visibly yearned for her. She might even long-shamelessly!-to touch and caress it, even (she shuddered now, thinking of it, shaken by the thought) kiss it tenderly and lick the tiny drop of sperm from the end of it; but this had no part in the fantasy. She might think about it-fleetingly-but no more. More important was to give herself up, completely, to the secret ritual they shared. More important was to spread her thighs wide, straining to hold herself open for him, as his lips invaded the secret places of her body. His lips; his fingers; his questing, darting tongue…
Ahhhhh! she groaned in something near pain, as the brown mouth dived hungrily into her auburn-haired crotch, the lips and teeth burying themselves in the soft, wet inner lips of her vulva, his tongue going like mad on the infinitely sensitive flesh of the insides of her. She was wet! So wet! It was his task to lick her dry, dry as a bone!.
But now a new sensation entered: the beard she'd felt before. Raking inside of her, hurting her-and then, as quickly, turning the hurt to ecstasy as the soft tongue swept over the places the ungentle bristles had scraped raw. The lips closing in a dozen soft kisses over the aroused flesh, taking mouthfuls of its softness inside himself. The tongue expelling it and licking it, licking it clean, again and again…
Oh my God, she thought. He's licking me. He's eating me. He's sucking my c…But she couldn't say it Not even in her mind, not even in her heart of hearts. She could only enjoy it with a wordless, mindless passion that grew and grew, slowly (she'd always been so slow! It had made Ed so unhappy! But she couldn't help it. Could she? Could she?), building to a climax she could hardly imagine even now.
Once she had sat before a mirror on the massage table. And she'd spread her legs and looked at herself, long and hard, fascinated with what she saw. Her own wide-open c…But she couldn't say the word, even think about it The curling hair growing lush around it; the pink hairless flesh inside; the little red button above it; the brown button of her anus. Was this what the men wanted? she'd thought to herself. And she'd looked at it wondering. It had seemed so strange-looking. And yet…there was a certain beauty about it after all, now. It was all in the way you looked at it
And this young man with her now: he must be looking at it with love, with affection, with a hungry passion. For he was diving noisily into it, his breath coming in great gasps, his busy tongue driving her crazy with eager anticipation of what was to come, any minute now, any minute…
When it came she screamed.
She couldn't help it His whole mouth opened and took the upper third of her vagina into it sucking the upper end of her cleft deep inside him, and, best of all, taking, at last between his soft and voracious lips, the hard, upstanding head of her little button! She kicked wildly; her anus winked open, shut open, shut with an uncontrollable motion of its own; the wetness gushed forth from the soft tissues inside her again; but nothing deterred him. His firm hands holding her spread as wide as she could go. He began, slowly, with a steady rhythm, to suck on the little shaft, taking it in and out of his mouth, in and out, in and out On every fourth, in-and-out motion, his tongue would sweep up the bottom of it in a delicious lick. Then he started varying the rhythm. Every third suck. Then every fifth. Then, once, he went ten sucks without licking her, and she was dying for it when it finally came. She almost fainted when it did…A door slammed.
"Mrs. Mikell, I'm finished I just wanted…"
Nan Mikell, her face red as a beet sprang to her feet. And in the trembling anger that beset her she didn't think to cover herself up at first. Her features, delicately beautiful as a Renaissance Madonna's in repose, were black with rage, contorted like a harpy's. She stood, hands on hips, looking at the intruder, mastering the dark force of hatred in her that contended with her reason as she stared hot-eyed at the playsuit-clad young girl from the University who had come to catalogue Ed's books prior to the official takeover of his library. The girl's face was scarlet with embarrassment; her hand had gone to her mouth and stayed there, and her face held-frozen, as in a stop-motion photograph-a look of horror.
But her eyes, looking at Nan Mikell out of her silent tableau of mortification, strayed once, hotly, to Nan's nude body: to the darkly aroused nipples, to the fiercely tangled bush at the bottom of her belly, to the thin line of hot juice that stained Her bare and goose-pimpled leg.
Then, her eyes clouding over with tears, she came apart. "Oh, Mrs. Mikell, I…I thought you were--"
"Get out!" Nan Mikell said in a deadly voice. And, with an indignant motion, she reached for the robe in the pool-side chair and held it protectively to her body while the young woman, flustered, turned and headed brokenly for the door. Then, still breathing hard, she sat down on a nearby chaise and pulled the robe close about her body.
She'd been seen! Doing it!
By another woman!
And, most strangely of all, she'd liked it!
She'd liked the feel of those strange eyes on Her naked body. She'd felt deliciously, shamelessly nude in front of the girl-and proud of it! And, best of all, she'd enjoyed having the girl see her not only naked, but trembling with passion, with the wetness of her flowing down her thighs!
She'd enjoyed it! Worse-she'd had an almost irresistible impulse to flaunt it! To reach down and grab a handful of hair and bump it up at her! To put both hands down there between her legs, and…and open herself up for the girl! Looking her hard in the eye the whole time!
Shuddering, Nan Mikell pulled the robe even more closely around her. All of a sudden there was a strange chill in the air.
Chapter 2
Nan had been very much Ed Mikell's woman for the sixteen years they were married. She'd come to him-well, not quite a virgin, perhaps, but not quite experienced either. She'd been raised small-town Catholic, poor and strait-laced, and only her bright and agile mind and the striking beauty that accompanied it had shown any sign of raising her out of the Polish, steel-town ghetto in which she'd been born.
That same beauty, however, had been a two-edged sword. It won her attention-and then her mind had won her the scholarship to Bryn Mawr that had made her bid farewell to Pigiron City. But it had also severely restricted her sexual education. Her brothers, tough street-fighters, quick to protect her good name, had at the same time protected her from anyone who might have wished to further her education in this line. One boy did-Johnny Bobrowicz; she'd never forget him-and her brother Stash had broken his arm for him, to the tune of an obscene Polish tirade that could be heard all the way to the end of the street She hadn't had the nerve to go back to school for two days after that And after that her dates ended promptly at ten o'clock. She'd thought things would change, away at school. She'd even changed her name, a little anyhow, thinking that what plain Anna Karpowa wouldn't do, Nan might. (She hadn't had the nerve to do anything about that plonky Polack last name; her family'd never speak to her again.) But keeping up with her grades had come much harder back East, in the Quaker country. There were always so many distractions. And it had taken all her nerve and Polish stubbornness to get her all the way through to her degree-and then Ed had come into her life.