Paula Cash - Closet Queen

"Ah, that's so good. That feels so good," cried Lisbeth as Cheryl's fingers dug in.

"Time I'm done you won't even know you have a bad back," Cheryl told her.

As she worked on the flesh of the woman's back and moved down the smooth taper, Cheryl began to get an idea. It was wild, but it made sense in what she wanted to do. She skipped the towel to work on the woman's back thighs. Her hands rose higher and higher towards her crotch. Harold sat a few feet away, talking to Mrs. Foster about some of her art projects. Cheryl's woman's sense told her that the older woman would not have let Harold witness this massage unless she liked the young man. Even in the few minutes she'd worked, Cheryl realized that Lizbeth liked the young man a whole lot. Further, her experience with the Professor told her that the Fosters, like so many people who were married for a long time, had roving eyes. There was a lot of sublimated sexuality between the sexy, older woman and Harold, although he didn't realize it.

Cheryl's hand went under the towel and she gently jogged the older woman's cunt. She felt tension in the woman's loins and her own sex rush and a blush. Cheryl held her breath. Her hand slid back down on the thighs.

The older woman's dark eyes looked at Cheryl, as Lisbeth turned her head to peer over her shoulder. Lisbeth looked puzzled-and a little hot-eyed. She said nothing and that was all Cheryl needed.

"All right, Harold," said Cheryl. "You can help me now.”

"Wh-what?" squeaked Harold.

Cheryl went on smoothly, talking to Lisbeth. "I'm teaching Harold my massage system,” she said. "If he's good enough at it, we may open a service in Brighton. Since you and he are already-sort of friends-would you mind?”

“Listen,” said Harold, blushing. "It's nothing of the kind-”

"Come on, Harold," Cheryl cut him off. "You don't have to hide it from Mrs. Foster-Lisbeth.”

"Not at all," said Lisbeth with a laugh. "I've often encouraged Harold to learn to do something useful with his hands. He spends too much time in his head.”

"So hop to it, Harold," Cheryl ordered. "You get busy on the back while I take care of the legs.”

"I-I-I-" Harold stammered.

"Harold, get over here!" Lisbeth's tone was peremptory and Harold jumped.

A few seconds later, coat off, sweating and blushing, Harold dug his hands into the nude flesh of his patroness, while Cheryl "instructed" him as she continued to squeeze the sexy thighs of the professor's wife.

"Slowly, Harold… move the flesh in and out… take your time. Be firm but not painful… now then… your knuckles on the backbone, but not too hard.”

Cheryl had her own fun down below. Harold was too confused to notice what she was doing to his patroness. Cheryl's hot hand sneaked under the towel to work that luscious cunt, making it swell and wet, just as her own cunt began to swell and wet. Lisbeth's hot eyes crossed hers, and Cheryl saw that the older woman was both amused and delighted at getting this erotic attention from the two young people. Pretty soon Lisbeth made very gentle humping motions and a soft groan escaped her lips.

"Was I-too harsh!" cried Harold.

"You're doing fine, Harold," said Cheryl.

She spread some of Mrs. Foster's cunt honey down on the soft inner thighs and had to breathe fast at the glisten and feel of it.

If she weren't careful, Cheryl feared she'd forget the real reason she'd come here and start a mini-orgy right on Lisbeth's bed. Certainly the older woman enjoyed it. Her legs had opened, her butt had tensed and relaxed under the towel. Bravo! The worldly, quick-thinking professor's wife was plenty fast on the uptake, adjusting to this lucky situation and letting Cheryl manage the whole thing.

Cheryl had Lisbeth turn over, covering those quite excellent breasts with a smaller towel. Harold modestly averted his eyes, but Cheryl didn't. The woman's nipples were as hard as if they had been carved out of stone. Cheryl's own breasts tensed in appreciation of the hot sex flashes she knew Lisbeth felt.

“You take the legs, Harold," Lisbeth ordered with a quick look up at Cheryl.

"Good idea," murmured Cheryl.

She knew now that she and Lisbeth were in league together with dark designs on that lump of cock that Harold carried between his legs. Harold knew that something was up, but with his near-virgin innocence, he couldn't quite understand what was happening.

Cheryl slid her hands from the soft arch of Lisbeth's ribs to her stomach. Lisbeth was okay, with only a little surplus flesh. Oh, it did feel good to stroke her warm flesh and sex up the woman! Her hands kept moving, up now, to the towel. Under the towel. She dug her hands into the naked breasts for a luscious moment, enjoying the springy feel of tit and the hard tension of thrilled nipples. Lisbeth had to move and groan, so Cheryl quickly broke contact. Lisbeth had a full sex blush now. Her eyes began to look dreamy and she wet her lips.

Cheryl glanced at Harold. The lad moved up from Lisbeth's calves to her thighs. He blushed, too. Cheryl could tell that he had an erection. Instead of reveling in it, he was ashamed of it, fearing their criticism. His brain failed to realize what his cock told him plainly.

"Higher, Harold," ordered Cheryl.

"I think this is… far enough."

Lisbeth added firm encouragement. "Higher, Harold. There's a bit of soreness higher-uh- higher up.”

"S-sure," His hands crept higher.

"No, Harold, like this," said Cheryl. She turned her back on Lisbeth and faced Harold. She ran her hand up those sweet inner thighs that glistened with sex education. Her wrist pulled back the towel as she fixed on Lisbeth's pink cunt and worked it. Harold stared in frozen fascination. At the same time Cheryl fingered Harold's hard-on in his pants. She squeezed his cock firmly. She felt a little dizzy with all the sexuality going on, her own cunt boiling now and her tits hot and ready.

"I think Mrs. Foster is ready for the full treatment," Cheryl said.

"I'm ready," crooned the happy woman on the bed.

"Huh?" said Harold.

What a turkey. Cheryl mouthed the word "fuck" but Harold couldn't grasp it. She took him by the hand and led him away from the bed.

"I have to go to the bathroom, Mrs. Foster," Cheryl called back over her shoulder, "I'll let Harold finish for me. Is that all right?”

"Perfect," said the older woman. "Beautiful."

To Harold, Cheryl hissed. "Fuck her. She wants it.”

"Oh, my God, I don't dare," he whispered. "She's too nice a woman-”

"Crawl her," she insisted in a low voice. "You're hard and she's wet. She wants it. I happen to know the professor cheats on her. It's all right.”

"I-I-I-”

"If you don't," said Cheryl, "she'll hate you forever. She thinks we plotted all of this because you're crazy for her." She put deadly menace in her voice. "If you back out, she'll smash you for a jerk and a clod. You have no choice.”

He groaned and looked at the bed, where the woman pretended to be resting…

"Harold, don't you want to?”

"Yeah. I think she's sexy, but, but-”

She shoved him toward the bed. As Cheryl went out of the room, the last thing she saw was Harold unbuttoning his shirt and Lisbeth whisking off the towels…

It was no trouble finding the room where Lisbeth had stacked all her art objects. Finding the small figurine was a different matter. Cheryl groaned when she saw the clutter of stuff-pictures, lamps, small tables, figurines, jewelry. Evidently a lot of artistic people had attended Brighton and had had time to create a lot of objects. It was going to take her a half hour to go through all of this stuff thoroughly and she knew she didn't have that much time. Furthermore, the light was dim. She stood in the middle of the room and gave a small wail of despair. It was like going through somebody's crowded attic.