If breathing was difficult, moving was even more so. Pam wanted to step out of the way, but her legs were made of steel and her feet of cast iron and she couldn't lift them; couldn't walk, couldn't not even when Dianne ran the backs of her fingers along Pam's cheek and across her trembling lips.
"What are you afraid of?" Dianne asked. "That I'll spill the beans to your husband? Good God, how could I do that without advertising a few facts about myself as well? Besides – I like you far too much." Her hand dropped and she touched Pam's top. "This is really attractive," Dianne went on. "I mean, it's really you. Sexy without being cheap. Is it new? My God, did I buy this for you? Oh, darling, I've rarely spent my money to better use. Here. Let me see."
And Pam hadn't the strength to protest as Dianne slipped the jacket off her shoulders. In another moment, Dianne was touching Pamela's bare arms and shoulders, her fingers toying with one of the slender straps. "I'll bet," Dianne added, "that you're not wearing a stitch of clothing underneath, are you? God, this looks like something you'd go to bed in, and I wish it was my bed you were en route to. Here, let me see."
"Please," Pam said, "I don't want you to see."
"But I already have. Could you have forgotten so soon?" Dianne purred through puckered lips and then suddenly her mouth was jammed tightly against Pam's and she was kissing with all her power and, though Pam willed her mind to resist, Pam could not will her lips to take that kiss without a qualm. She felt Dianne's hot mouth on her own – her lips parted slowly, reluctantly – and Dianne's tongue shot into Pam's mouth and there was nothing more Pam could do. She felt that tongue hit her own, hit it like an electrified cattle prod, and she wavered, on her feet and she moaned into Dianne's mouth, and then her arms enfolded Ms. Hagen and she swept the slightly smaller woman to her ample bosom and, tears forming in her eyes, she returned Dianne's kiss with all the lust and intensity she possessed.
Dianne's hands were free, for Pam was taking care of all the embracing, and Dianne put her hands to good use. She pulled the shoulder straps and Pam's dress top came falling down, the large, stiff-nippled boobs bouncing free, nipples vividly erect against Dianne's body. Dianne twisted her head to one side, and Pam moaned and shifted herself slightly, and Dianne seized one tit in a hot clutching hand, her fingers digging into the fragile breast tissue, squeezing, kneading, clasping, the nipple wedged tightly between two steel-like fingers and their hard knuckles. Pam felt her nipple begin to throb in that trap, and, she couldn't help herself. Her hands dropped down Ms. Hagen's back, she caught Dianne by the slender ass, and she pulled the woman to her as if she meant to swallow her in one gulping kiss.
Dianne was still pulling at Pam's dress, and it kept falling lower and lower, until it was a heap at her ankles and Pam's naked body pressed against Dianne's clothed frame. Dianne had been right on target. Under the dress Pam wore only her stockings, and Dianne's hand wasted no time in caressing a bare, warm buttock.
"So we meet again, Patricia," Dianne said with a smirk, drawing back to admire her handiwork.
Panting for breath, Pamela leaned against the sink cabinet. It was too late to cover herself, and probably pointless as well. She'd misjudged herself terribly and, as she looked at Ms. Hagen's twitching fingers, she knew that she wanted very much to feel those fingers on her body again, to feel them now, to feel them hot, eager, caressing. Her cunt began to leak a thin mist of dew and she cupped her tits, feeling the tense expectation that hammered in each beat of her speeding heart.
"I'm not Patricia," she said. "I never was Patricia. Don't call me Patricia any longer. Please."
"I won't," Dianne promised. "If you want to be Pamela again, that's fine with me. Pamela is a lovely name. I like to say it. But even more, I enjoy this," and she stooped, blowing a kiss at each of Pam's tits. Pam sighed, squeezed her boobs more vigorously, and the nipples seemed to thrust out of their own will, making delicious pink targets for Dianne's fingers and lips.
"Pamela tastes even nicer than Patricia did," Ms. Hagen whispered, just before her tongue lolled across Pam's left nipple, just before her lips closed upon the nipple and pulled it savagely.
"Ahhhh…" Still cupping her breasts, offering them, as it were, Pam eased back, and Dianne's mouth opened wider, sucking at the whole end of her tit. She felt teeth and tongue and lips working in harmony on her flesh, and Dianne's hand was between her fidgety legs, a pair of digits playing slowly across the dampening gash hidden amid the fur.
"Yes, do it, please; do it," Pam cooed, and she sidled, removing one tit from Dianne's mouth but making the other fully available. Dianne leaked drool on the nipple as she nursed it, and it grew stiff and long in her mouth. Pam curled her fingers in the other woman's hair and pulled Dianne to her bosom, suckling her as a mother would suckle a baby, and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't persuade herself that it was wrong, because it wasn't. She loved what was being done to her, and she wanted more. All her good intentions thrown out the window, Pam Wilson began to hump her snatch up and down on the expert feminine hand that played with it. In a moment she was rewarded sweetly – Dianne parted the tight lips and inserted two fingers up Pam's sopping twat.
"Oh, God, yes, that hits the spot," Pam whispered, pulling Dianne's face even tighter against her breast. Teeth were gnawing softly on her tit, and they seemed to scrape endlessly across the whole intricate pattern of nerves that made up the sensitive peak of her tit. And those fingers kept pushing in and out of her pussy, until the muscles danced and rippled in a rhythmic responsive action, and Pam felt tears flowing down her cheek. They were tears for the shame she felt here, now, and she could no more hold them back then she could will her body not to respond to Dianne Hagen's lovemaking.
"I know something else that will hit the spot even better," Dianne promised, kneeling before Pamela. "Spread your beautiful legs for me," she added, punching into Pam's cunt to emphasize the request, and by now Pam was in no mood to resist. She widened the gape of her legs and looked down, past her swaying, hard-nippled breasts, as Dianne began to make erotic oral love to her cunt.
First the fingers exited Pam's pussy, coming out slowly, and reluctantly – as reluctant as Pam's snatch was to let them go. Dianne looked at her glistening fingers, and she looked up at Pam, too, and then she licked her fingers dry, sucking them avidly, bright eyes attesting her delight. "Delicious," she said, "and it makes me, oh, God, so hungry for more!"
"Take all you want," Pam said, giggly from hysteria, "but eat all you take." It was something Kerry used to say, something he'd picked up in the Army, and right now it seemed so apropos she had to laugh.
Dianne Hagen laughed too, and once again those green eyes were the emerald pools of quicksand into which Pam had fallen once today, into which she was ready to fall again, right now. The eyes transfixed Pamela and she felt breath catching in her throat, and she said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to do it?"
"Of course I am," Dianne replied, and she planted her fingers on the petals of Pam's cunt. It opened, and Dianne's face darted in. A hot, frisky tongue skated through Pam's gash, touching all her sensitive parts in its passage but not lingering on any of them long enough to make the rest of her feel slighted. A finger was toying with Pam's ass, and Pam couldn't keep from remembering how sweet it had been to be double-fingered this afternoon, and she found a new excitement building behind her tits as she anticipated that delicious prospect.