Dallas Mayo: Girl-crazy girl

Even so, I was still helpless against intrusive memories, a messy litter of bits and pieces bouncing around in my mind, all sharp thorns and jagged edges. Painful to contemplate. And yet exquisitely pleasurable even in retrospect! I let the recollection carry me away, succumbing all over again to each and every enticement, watching myself wallow grotesquely in the steamy quagmire of my love. Such a unique and precedented kind of love, so lewd, so luridly submissive…

Somehow it never seemed very lurid at the time, though. Just beautiful, mostly. Like the night she dozed off on my bed. Amanda was out, attending a small snob-type soiree that didn't include the hired help. Which was just fine for Fleur and me, giving us hours of uninterrupted privacy together. But we both got drowsy at last, quieting down for a little catnap.

I awoke first, checking the clock and realizing sadly that our tryst was nearing its end. With the boss-lady due home soon, my beloved little sexpot would have to be up and around to greet her, to serve her, to help her undress – and perhaps to lull her to sleep in sweet lesbian fashion. All part of the job. So anymore catnapping was now a luxury we could no longer afford. Time to rise and shine. But nobody likes to be jolted awake; why not do it with tender loving care?

Resting on one elbow, I nuzzled into the nape of Fleur's neck, a kiss of reconnaissance, probing the depth of her slumber. She lay motionless, face down, her head half-buried in the pillow. Slowly, almost at a leisurely pace, I turned the kiss into a trail of soft-lipped caresses down her spinal column. Her body stirred in somnolent response, evidently about to come alive; one leg twitched and inched away from the other, broadening the gap between them. The movement was like an unconscious invitation, boosting my ardor to a breathless peak. Excitement churned thick and hot within me, becoming a problem as I struggled to hold myself in check.

Until that, moment I wasn't sure how I'd go about waking her tip. Or how I'd finish, rather. But now I knew only too well, cued in by this inviting position of hers. Or was it just my own desire that led me on? No matter. I lavished a flurry of open-mouthed kisses upon each dimpled buttock. And then, unable to stem my rising impatience, I burrowed tongue-first into the dark gully – and into the deepening darkness beyond…

"Mmm. Darling! More kiss-ass?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do I really have to wake up?"

"Afraid so. I did it as gently as…"

"You're an angel. Thanks."

"I-I don't feel very angelic."

"Don't you? No, I suppose not. Angels don't go around sticking their, tongue up assholes, do they? Oh shit, I'm awake now, wide awake and hot to trot. Let's try something new, baby. I mean if we're going to play kiss-ass…"

She moved abruptly – out from under my kiss and then up on her knees, tossing a leg over and nudging me onto my back beneath her. I obeyed her prodding without protest, too dazed to resist. And then she sank down upon my head, the flexuous ass-cheeks spreading and settling in a thickly fluid motion, her flesh molding itself snugly to every dip and rise of my facial features. I suffered in a kind of delirious ecstasy, straining desperately to bear her weight without smothering to death.

It wasn't easy. But I had sufficient motivation to see me through, her body claiming and clutching my tongue in a series of convulsive muscular contractions, a sensation that eclipsed discomfort and transcended danger. The tight channel was sucking again, kissing me back like a pouty little mouth – and wasn't it a joy, an unadulterated joy to feel my elongated tongue sucked up into the hot fleshy vacuum of her divinely precious asshole?

Bits and pieces! Like the time I went down on Amanda and ran into trouble. It wasn't my fault. She must have been tired that night, too tired for a quick orgasm. I didn't know that though, assuming only that a slow one was best; anyway, I luxuriated in the musky essence of her cunt, seeking to lose myself in its spell. She lay back and held on to me with both hands, practically stuffing my face into the humid flesh. It seemed like hours. And at last I realized that a crisis of sorts was in the making, a crisis without a climax. I redoubled my efforts then, using all of my resources, all the energy and enthusiasm and technical skill at my command, determined to drive her over the brink.

That did it. The boss-lady loosed a loud groan and her body lurched into a climactic spasm, grinding up against the pressure of my strenuously bobbing head. After a while her hands relented and returned me to freedom, an act of emancipation that didn't come a moment too soon. I gulped a breath of fresh air, gingerly conscious of my aching jaws and raw tongue. And yet I couldn't help feeling a touch of pride, aware that only my newly acquired technique – coupled with, the vitality of youth – could have turned the trick. I rated a gold medal for this one. Or at least an appreciative word of praise, a well-merited commendation.

"Amanda?"

"Ummm…"

"Was it good?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. G'night, kid."

"Please tell me. How did I do?"

"You've got to know right now, eh? Oh hell, what can I tell you? As a matter of fact, you were pretty lousy. But you're young yet. You'll learn. Now haul your little fanny out of here and let me sleep, will you?"

Shocked, dejected, discouraged, utterly crestfallen, I picked up my shortie nightgown and slunk out. Once away from her, I was stricken by a numbing sense of outrage. Fleur's room was just down the hall, the door slightly ajar; I knocked and entered and suddenly found myself teetering on the verge of hysteria.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Clad in a pajama-top, Fleur was seated upon her bed. "Hey, you're shaking! You're all upset. What happened to you?"

I tried to speak but couldn't clear my clogged throat. Then the cork blew and my bottled-up emotions burst free, a sob of rage, a wail of shame – even a few tears, all but blinding me. Only I wasn't too blind to see the concern on my friend's sweet face, all sympathy and tenderness. Nor could I miss the provocatively costumed beauty of her body, an awesome sight, demanding unblurred vision and more specifically focused attention. And somehow, blessedly, the entire sum and substance of my displeasure seemed almost trivial, hardly more than a childish tantrum.

"Darling?" She smiled, opening her arms.

It was a picture worth a thousand words. I tumbled headlong into her embrace. We kissed. And then – as if the thought had struck us both simultaneously – she rolled over on her belly and I slid down lower in bed. Again we kissed, a rather different kiss now, but that lewdly intimate nook of her body was no less luscious than her lips – and I drifted into a transport of love, offering lingual homage to her adorable little asshole in a silent eloquence.

Well, no, not quite silent. I could hear my own noises, just barely audible but exciting beyond belief, the vaguely remote whisper of flesh upon wet flesh, a coy lisp of a sound, loaded with seductive innuendo. It was steeped in hot succulence, the aphrodisiac slither of a lesbian tongue in action, a sound drenched in scent and dripping with sex. But it still had only one meaning, of course, crude but unmistakable – like the subtitles on a foreign film – one simple meaning to cover a multitude of sins: I had fallen in hue with her ass…

There were more bits and pieces, but my reverie had just been cut short. I was being summoned. Dropping the feather duster, I scurried over to the massage table, almost giving in to the impulse to perform a little curtsy for the boss-lady. But I was still a guest in the house, not a servant. Not yet, anyway.

"You want me, Amanda?"

"Yes, dear. Just to fill you in. This party we're having – there'll be a neighbor of yours invited. Someone from your neck of the woods, the Springfield area."