Jerry Milner - The lady plays doctor

Joyce threw back her head and laughed. "That's hilarious! The bride of the lesbian! Is that what I'm supposed to be?"

Emily laughed with her. "Something like that," she said, and drew Joyce closer, kissing her on the lips.

There was no real passion in the kiss. Compared to what had gone on between them before, it was an entirely chaste kiss. Joyce was determined to explore this odd and amusing fantasy further, until another flashbulb went off from across the table.

She could see the picture it would produce. The cute little blonde physician, clad in the white negligee of the bride, embracing mouth to mouth with the buxom beautiful and powerful woman.

It was a picture for a case-history book – except that she was that little blonde participant in the sex fantasy, and such a picture could ruin her career. She took her lips from the lesbian's and looked coldly across the table to where Dr. Morgan was seated. She held out her hand and said, "Give me that camera. I won't have you taking any more pictures of me involved in any of your farces"

"Yes, ma'am," said the doctor, still playing his butler's role to the hilt, and handed over the camera.

"There's no film in it, dear," Emily assured her, patting her bare shoulder and smiling at Joyce's distrustful scowl.

Joyce opened the camera, found it was indeed empty. Only slightly chagrined, she set it back on the table, whereupon the play-acting butler picked it up and fitted another flashbulb into it. He was just in time for another kiss between the little blonde in the arms of the big brunette across the table from him. Joyce entered into this kiss more deeply, more securely. It was her way of apologizing to the fantasizing woman for thinking the pictures might be used to incriminate her as an accomplice in their illicit sex. It was pleasant to be kissed by Emily Beresford. Joyce was all relaxed from the wine and the food, and Emily's lips and tongue were relaxed and warm. They tasted good on Joyce's. She let the kiss linger, allowed Emily's hand to rove up her bare leg inside the gauzy nylon of her negligee, until their silent butler had flashed two flare bulbs. Then she politely pushed away from the affectionately embracing woman.

"How long have you two been fantasizing like this?" she asked.

"Whatever do you mean, darling?"

"The rape scene. This bridal scene. How long has it been going on, and who else have you involved in your fantasies?"

"This is reality, Joyce," said Emily with convincing sincerity. "You are my bride tonight, for as long as you stay with me."

Joyce shook her head, smiling, looking down at the jeweled hand that moved in a circle over her stomach and went on to lightly fondle her breasts. "Oh, no. I'm just a bystander. An observer. And this is all a fantasy."

"The love is real. The sensations are real. Feel those things," said the dazzling, soft-spoken brunette. "Feel them."

The scent of their perfume was very real. The residual taste of the food was there, and the feeling of mild inebriation. That hand roving over her body was real, delivering a perverted sort of love. And the warmly tingling sensations were real, for Joyce had already been shown she could respond to the touch of a stranger, even a woman. She volunteered a kiss of her own to test it all. Emily's mouth was like a exotic tropical flower, eagerly delivering nectar to a hungrily sucking bee. Joyce's senses once again rose in a dizzying spiral, and once again she was brought back to earth by the flash of the camera.

She smiled up at the looming, beautiful face and said, "I'm going to bed. By myself."

"Soon," said the lesbian. "But first, enjoy. Feel my breasts. Play with them while I play with yours. And don't tell me you don't enjoy it."

"Soft and warm," Joyce said as her hand moved over the huge, white-covered mound closest to her.

"And exciting."

"In a wicked, perverse sort of way, I suppose."

"Even more exciting with less clothing. No?" said Emily, challenge in her smile, hand inside Joyce's bodice now to softly toy with a nipple.

That nipple was not fully responding, much to Joyce's satisfaction.

A soft tweak of her nipple, and the hand was drawn away. Emily leaned back and began to open her blouse, and Joyce met the challenge in the lesbian's eyes with a confident, defiant smile. Her breathing was under control, she felt relaxed and could study this with objectivity. Big, big breasts, confined in a sheer black brassiere. Creamy white skin that lured the touching hand. Another soft kiss, now with the proximity of the bared flesh of Emily's torso, and Joyce was still in control of herself as the lesbian leaned back, smiled, stood up to remove her skin.

"Do you like what you see? Do you like your lesbian bridegroom?"

"You are a very beautiful woman. Yes, I like to look at you. But as for your being my lesbian bridegroom – no, that's quite impossible. For obvious reasons."

"Nothing here. Is that it?" the standing woman said, and moved her hand slowly over the big, black-covered mound of her loins. "You think I have nothing to consummate the marriage with. Is that it?"

"Among other things. Do you wish you had a cock there where your hand is? Do you have a great deal of penis envy?"

"Darling, I wish for nothing now that I have you."

The big woman in black glided gracefully down beside Joyce again. She slipped her arms about her, kissed her, and Joyce's hands touched the soft white flesh, the hard black fabric. This was sensuality at its utmost.

Joyce reached around her and unhooked the black brassiere. Her hand was back in time to catch the lovely big breast as it fell out of its confinement. It spilled out over the sides of Joyce's little hand as she hefted it and squeezed it and lifted it to her mouth. The nipple was as hard as hers but much bigger. She made Emily purr and stoke her head by sucking so sweetly on it. The camera flashed, then flashed again when Joyce had turned her pretty face to smile at it with her cheek clasped against that erotic loveliness she'd been sucking on. Another bulb and yet another was exploded while Joyce softly tweaked and pulled the kiss-wet nipple and languorously tangled tongues with the heavy-lidded Emily Beresford.

"Feeling nice?" Joyce murmured.

"Glorious."

"You like to have your titty sucked?"

"By you. Only by you, Joyce."

"Yes, your bride," Joyce said, and softly laughed through her warm kisses on the perfumed flesh.

Emily smiled and slipped the shoulder strap of Joyce's negligee, freeing a breast for the soft cup of her hand. "Do you like it when I kiss your breasts, darling?"

"Yes," said Joyce, looking down at the lacquer-tipped hand in control of her tit. And with equal frankness, she said, "I like it even better than I like kissing your titties, Emily."

Joyce softly hugged Emily's dark curls to her bosom as the woman sucked and licked her nipple. She knew just how hard to do it, just how long, and her mouth was so very soft. The flashbulb went off again and Joyce turned to smile in languid ecstasy at their photographer. He was out of operation for the moment, busy putting a new roll of film in the camera. There was something that wasn't right about that, but just then Joyce couldn't think of what it was. She looked back at him from time to time as he loaded his camera, and when he'd focused on her again, she lowered her head and placed a reverently affectionate kiss on top of the head that was at her breasts.

"You're getting me wonderfully excited. I just love it," she murmured, and kissed her again, tousled the silky black curls.

Emily nodded, and went on softly sucking.

"My pussy's just sopping wet, Emily."

"Oh?" said the lovely, exciting woman, and resumed her slick mouthing of Joyce's strongly throbbing nipple.

"Just feel how wet I am," said Joyce, and pulled up her rumpled negligee, and parted her legs.