Ron Taylor: The hot niece

"Ooohhh," she purred as our lips parted. She kept herself afloat, and I kept my finger busy inside her. Then, neither of us actually voicing the suggestion, we both swam for shore. You can get turned on in the water, but there was certain things that work best on dry land. I wasn't sure what would happen as we left the pool hand in hand, eyes glued upon each other's faces. I was certain that my life was about to take interesting new directions. Her smile was easier to read now, teeth showing, as well as the pointed tip of her pink tongue. We walked through the mossy grass, I knew I had nothing to be afraid of and a lot to look forward to.

"You know," she said, looking up at me as the horses razed contently a few yards away, "you remind me of Suzanne Somers – blonde, perky, big…" she held up her hands to indicate tits.

"No resemblance at all," I shot back. "I'm a natural blonde. Look for yourself."

"I already did," Kim replied, and her fingers reached out, touched my matted-down, wet, but undeniably golden blonde pubic hairs.

She had an interesting voice. I expected to hear her mixing up "r"s and "l"s, the way Orientals are supposed to, but she had almost a country twang in the way she talked, more like Dolly Parton than Madame Nhu. America's first Southeast Asian cowgirl, I thought.

"Come here. You started something and expect you to finish it," I said.

She came to me, and we stood kissing, sinking slowly to the grass, her lady hot against mine. We didn't even feel wet though we'd just come from the pool. The air was warm and scented here among the trees, just enough sunlight shining through the pines to make it pleasant. The grass was damp with the early morning dew and it smelled like Ireland as we lay down side by side, Kim rising slowly above me, her slim delicate fingers tracing a part down the edges of my body.

She had a knowing touch. I wasn't the first female she'd had her hands on. She let her fingertip walk around my stiff, puckered nipple, carefully and creatively avoiding the teat itself, but playing bonnie hell with the sensitive areola from which the red nipple arose in lustful eagerness. I grabbed her hand, crushed it down, until it covered my tit in a squeezing, cupping grasp, and I gasped, thrusting myself into her fist. "You're horny," Kim said. "I think I'll make you wait a little."

"The fuck you will!" I shot back, and I reached for the thigh. She danced away like a slender, tiny ballerina and I lay there gasping, unable to take my eyes off the graceful sway of her slim hips, the flash of her naked legs, and the swirl of her long dark hair.

She went to her horse, opened the saddle bag, and took out a small compact. She opened the thing, and I saw the flash of sunlight playing on the polished mirror.

"Just checking to make sure I'm presentable," she told me, snapping it shut and replacing it in the saddle bag. "You can't be too careful when you're in the presence of a perfect person, can you?"

"Twitch your Asiatic ass over here right now," I said, "or you'll find out how easily bitchiness goes with perfection."

She ambled toward me, and I rose onto my knees as she descended to the grass. We kissed again, and I felt funny, because I wasn't really sure what to do next. After all, this was my first time with a girl. I didn't think it would be the last. "You'll have to show me the ropes," I said. "I may not be quite as perfect as I like to think."

"This is part of it," she said, tilting my head back, kissing my throat. She mouthed my neck, my shoulder, lifted my arm and let her tongue glide through where it was ticklish as hell. My cunt began to twitch and throb without even the assistance of a caressing finger. And then, she got onto my tits. And God, if I thought my tits had been sucked before, I was re-learning what it was all about!

You know, it really is true, though I was only just learning it, making love with another woman is a lot different than fucking a guy. The touch of her lips on your body isn't the same, not at all. In a way, I guess it is how many variations can a mouth play on responsive skin? But a woman seems to have a surer instinct of precisely where to touch, where to kiss, another woman. And when Kim's mouth drifted onto my nipples, I knew tat I had been missing a lot – a hell of a lot. "God!" I said. "I never felt anything like that before!"

"It's only starting," she promised me, and her fingers slid down my belly, into my matted patch of golden hair. She found my slit and her fingers began to work and toy with the labes as she kept suckling and kissing my nips. I settled back slowly onto the grass, lying full length, while she moved with me, dominating my supine body, turning me on in new, delightful ways that filled my whole being with arousal. I reached up, touched her face, her arms, her wet dark hair. My nips kept getting harder and harder against her playful tongue. My clit, too, was ready, and she stroked it with a sure, knowing finger, scratching me now and then, but scratching me in precisely the right place, so that I moaned instead of screamed in pain. She had long nails and they were like sandpaper scraping my pussy.

As she started working down my belly with her expert mouth, I remembered that I had intended to ask her about the local boy-action. Having found Uncle Bill, I needed local boys like hell needs more preachers. With her tongue swirling round and round in my navel and me squirming on the wet grass like a bitch in heat, I realized that Kim Barton, or Khiemh Bao Thung, whichever you preferred, was worth knowing for her own sake – and mine.

She looked up, just as her tongue reached the upper edge of my beaver. Her fingers were still busy on my tint, slipping in and out, sliding across my pink slippery vulva, and teasing the hole and the clit. She looked like a shit-eating dog.

"The sisters at the orphanage," she said, "they made sure that boys and girls were kept separated all the time so we wouldn't get any wicked ideas, you know? But they should have been in the girls' wing after lights-out. Girls can come up with plenty of wicked ideas on their own."

"I know," I gasped. "So why don't you show me instead of just talking about it, huh?" And I reached for her head.

She jerked back. "Don't be so fast," she told me. "We have all day, if you want to play."

"I want," I moaned. "But do something, for Chrissake! I'm all shivery, like I was in a pit full of snakes and spiders! I gotta have something…"

"Try this," she suggested, spreading my labes and leaning into my crotch. I watched down my body, fascinated as her tongue thrust out of her mouth, and then that tongue scraped my clit. I screamed, and I was a hell of a lot more than just fascinated. It wasn't like being eaten by a man. It wasn't better, but it was certainly different.

Once she'd lashed my clit, she didn't waste a second. Her tongue began to play like a puppy in my cunt, and I knew that I was being eaten. Every nerve in my body responded to Kim's tongue and I thanked my God and her God and everyone else's God that the prim Catholic nuns had never thought to put a damper on adolescent girl/girl exploration back at the Saigon home for orphans of the war. Her tongue wiggled into my pussy and, almost before I knew what was happening to me, I as coming.

I guess it had been inevitable all along. The novelty of the situation had appealed to my deeper instincts, almost from the first time Kim kissed me in the water. I still remembered the rippling feel of her pussy around my inserted finger, and I groaned, wanting to feel it again. But my orgasm was the main thing, and I let it go, humping up to meet her tongue and mouth. If she'd ever tasted a juicier snatch than mine, she had moved in some really nifty circles, circles I wouldn't mind getting involved with for my own satisfaction.

"Eat me," I panted, "eat my come! I'm coming all over your pretty face! Eat it up! Eat it all up!"