Peter Jensen - The blackmailed mother book I

Who's to know; who's to see? It… even sounded like fun! Lonnie's heart began to pound faster, and she blamed the alcohol for her broken barriers of propriety, and for the way Cylvia was confiding the most inner secrets about her private life and marital relations…

"And… I-do other things!" Cylvia said. She inched still closer, as if afraid the walls had ears. She put one arm around Lonnie's shoulder. "I have to… or I'd go mad."

Lonnie asked before she realized what she was saying, "What kind of things?"

Cylvia tried to blush – a harder task than she had had to do so far. "I'll… show you." She picked up her purse, a wide, straw basket with leather straps. "Martin once bought these books in Europe," she said, bringing out a set of pamphlets. They were about the size of a Reader's Digest, only about twelve pages in thickness. There were different colored paper covers on them, but all were entitled: Climax Illustrated, with different volume numbers on them. "We would sit in bed and look at the pictures and get hotter than hell. We'd be naked, you see, and I'd look at his cock get excited and grow straight up in the air. Then we'd make love; screw, to use your word. He'd fuck my toenails off, in my language."

Lonnie took one of the booklets, and said as she opened the cover, "But I don't understand." She was confused, dizzy from the liquor, upset by not having her husband here, tortured by the increasing tingles of prurience which was emanating stronger and stronger from her loins and breasts, and mentally distraught from the deepening lewdness of the conversation. She didn't understand anything – and when she opened the booklet and caught the first picture, she really didn't understand!

"Why! Why… this is obscene!" Her eyes bulged slightly at the salacious color picture. It was of two women, sitting on the couch, both beautiful young Scandinavians; they were in a state of undress, one having only a garter belt and stockings on, and the other in her panties and high boots. The one in the boots was kissing the hardened ruby-tipped nipple on the other's left breast. Lonnie and Cylvia sat in silence for a moment, as Lonnie took a deep swallow of her drink feeling some composure returning to her stomach.

"Turn the page, Lonnie. It gets better!"

"No…" But her mind couldn't control her fingers. The page turned, and she reeled under the pornographic display of both girls stretched out on the couch now, the panties around one ankle of the girl; they were facing one another, but in such a way that their mouths were kissing each other's vaginas, their fingers spreading their soft strands of pubic hair. The pink vagina slits were visible, and on the opposing page were close-ups of each tonguing the soft flesh and rich thighs of the other.

Lonnie was unable to tear herself away from the pictures. She'd heard of lesbianism, occasionally even wondered what it felt like to have the softer, more tender touch of a woman on her skin – but she'd never seen it before, had it so detailed before her eyes!

She turned to her friend, and found that Cylvia was now slouched in her seat, her legs wide apart. Her skirt was even higher than before! "They make me excited," Cylvia panted, her eyes glued to the pictures. "So damned hot! There's others, with men and dogs, and even one with a negro with a cock the size of a telephone pole… but there's something about this set, with the girls, that tears me apart when I look at them."

"You can't mean it!" Lonnie gaped.

"I do," Cylvia said, nodding. "I'm being honest, and as my friend, you can be honest with me. Don't they excite you? Don't they make you want to spread your legs for the first thing that comes in sight?"

"But – but these are perverted! They're doing un-unnatural acts!"

"They're merely enjoying themselves, Lonnie. Without men around, what else is there? Besides fingering yourself, I mean. That's what I do when I'm alone and look at the pictures. I take all my clothes off and lie on the bed and look at the girls making love and I play with my own cunt until I cum."

"Cylvia," Lonnie moaned. She was so awfully mixed up. She knew she shouldn't have had that last drink, for her vision was becoming distorted with her mental reflection of what she'd done that morning – what she'd done to herself on previous days when the build-up of passion had been too great. She'd lain on her bed, naked, and done the exact same things to her pussy which Cylvia was admitting having done to herself! She felt she should stop this perverted talking before it got any worse… but the drinks and Cylvia's salacious confessions and the pictures before her were a melage too strong to counter-act. She felt wicked churnings in her body, the prickles of arousal stirring in her blood and marrow.

"Ohhh, God, Lonnie, I'm excited," Cylvia mewled. "I… I don't think I can stand it!"

Mrs. Lonnie Carmel's heretofore naive view of her best friend and trusted confident took another shattering blow. For Cylvia raised her dress yet higher, so that now it was bunched around her waist – and that she wasn't wearing any panties! Cylvia Oliss was naked from the waist down, and was brazenly spreading her logs still wider, exposing her moist, blonde-haired cunt to Lonnie's wild-eyed vision.

Lonnie was speechless. Never had she been a part of such abandonment of modesty. She'd seen other girls in the nude, of course; had taken showers and been at slumber parties and changed into bathing suits with no thought that their – and her – private parts were in display. But there had been good taste then, and not a flaunting of genitals with overtones of sex so apparent. Here, now, her best friend was shameless and openly admitting her unfulfilled needs, her most decadent of practices. Lonnie was always ashamed of having to use her own hands to relieve the hunger of her sex drive – and never had the thought occurred to her to use any stimulus, such as pictures or stories, either alone or with Roger! And whenever she did conjure up images during the billowing heat waves of her arousal, it was always of Roger…

"God, all I can think of is my cunt being kissed," Cylvia groaned. She parted her thighs and rotated her bare thighs on the couch, her one hand moving up and down, encircling the lovely curls and swollen red valley of her vaginal lips, while her other hand was still around Lonnie's shoulder, preventing her friend from leaving the couch. "Just like those girls are doing to each other… see, Lonnie? Their kisses, their tongues, their finger-fucking each other. Ooohhhhh…"

Lonnie tried to avert her eyes from the licentious sight of Cylvia undulating her loins and agitating her throbbing cunt, but her gaze only returned to the lusty pictures and the twin females of perversion. She swallowed hard, her throat dry, her stomach a thousand butterflies. She looked back at her friend and was drawn once more to Cylvia's soft pubic triangle, for there was a strange attraction for the woman's hair and flesh which made Lonnie cringe and want to pull away and yet lean closer at the same time.

"Ahhhh," Cylvia moaned uncontrollably. "Ahhh, it feed so good…"

The Oliss woman revolved her fingers in the lust-moistened furrow of her pussy now, her legs bent slightly to allow her hand full access as she hungrily managed her cuntal slit. The flesh grew redder with excitement, and she breathed harder and harder, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. She leaned her head against Lonnie's rigid shoulder and clenched her teeth. "Uuhhhh," she sighed through her mouth.

"Stop it," Lonnie pleaded. "Please… please stop it."

"Why? I'm only doing what I enjoy. We're friends, Lonnie. We understand one another, and we both know we masturbate."

Her moist, glistening vagina was splayed wide for Lonnie's view, and the shocked young wife could smell its perfumed female secretions. As much as she wanted Cylvia to stop, she was too close in spirit and desires to the Oliss woman to be anything but a sympathetic and empathetic comrade. Tears of frustration and indecision clouded her lids – and there was her own deep wetness building between her inner thighs. With a terrified jolt, Lonnie realized that her own hips were unconsciously starting to grind with helpless excitement, and that her breasts and vagina were actually hurting in response to Cylvia's immoral teasing of her own loins.