Hugh Flungit - Gay-Girl Games

Oh no, we were both equally worked up. How silly of me to worry about putting her in a demeaning position; wasn't she my slave? I leaned back against the porcelain tank, heaving my buttocks to the forward edge of the seat and grinding my belly upward against that non-stop mouth. My feet rose from the floor, eliciting a muffled moan as I dangled them over her hunched shoulders. The moan sounded again, subdued but audible, as I locked my ankles together and exerted some thigh pressure on the sides of her head. My hands still retained a powerful grip on her hair, too. I was afraid of hurting her with all that violent force-but even more afraid to ease up and relinquish one iota of the ecstasy that flooded my flesh. And right there on the toilet I simply erupted in a babble of lewdly eloquent commands that grew louder and more lascivious with each lick of her tongue and every twitch of my furiously responsive body.

"You love it, you cuntlapping slave! I'll bet you'd love to crawl right up inside my cunt… "

That was the way I talked to her, figuring she deserved some sort of reward for her cooperation-and what better reward could I give someone like that? I knew only too well that a pat Ion the head would no longer suffice, aware now of what it took to satisfy that perverted nature of hers. My language grew bolder and bawdier. She was moaning again, continuously now, but it didn't interfere in the slightest with her slavish worship. Nor did her obvious delirium interfere with the proficiency of her performance. Now she was sucking and tonguing simultaneously, concentrating on my clit with a kind of lapping suction, driving me over the brink. I got pretty delirious myself, turning limp momentarily as the throbbing sensation of orgasm came on, robbing me of the strength to keep that viselike clutch of my thighs around her head. The fierce pleasure was like a paralysis. I didn't disappoint her though, at last summoning up enough energy to start flailing my legs and banging my heels on her back, pounding away in an out-of-control erotic rhythm as my climax struck, Dh, no, neither of us was disappointed.

Those high school years were good ones. The boys still came flocking around, of course, more than ever now as my body approached its peak of development. Would-be swains eager for my attention, some just for the notoriety involved, the honor of being seen with the prettiest girl in town. I dated a lot, playing the field-no favorites for me!-small boys, big boys, smart scholars and stupid athletes. Polite lads who stayed within the bounds of propriety and less polite wise-guys whose only interest seemed to be the hope of getting into my pants. I enjoyed them all in one way or another, even the rascally types, the sneaky strategists who showed their true color only in darkness, coming alive in a parked car and suddenly sprouting more arms than an octopus. Not that they got anywhere with me, nothing beyond my own clearly drawn and well-defined limit for such adolescent explorations, some heavy necking and perhaps a little sly-fingered but comparatively controlled petting. I was a good girl without being goody-goody, enjoying my popularity but never at the expense of my virginity. It was easy for someone with my advantage, easy to say no and make it stick-even in the hottest session my body never betrayed me after all, didn't I already have a lover to take care of my needs?

Ah yes, my secret lover! Her body did some developing, too, but she still remained quite slender if not exactly boyish. I just wished she would go out on dates more often, for the sake of appearances at least. Aside from our own private little world, there was the larger one to contend with, the unimaginative normal world in which girls were meant for boys and boys were meant for girls and any other system of pairing-off was considered either ludicrous or vile-or just plain crazy! Despite my misgivings though, Alix dated only on special occasions-proms and such-and even then only because I became downright insistent. She was content to remain out of the mainstream, taking refuge in her friendship with me. That big normal world just wasn't for her.

I felt a bit guilty about it, her going overboard like that and losing touch with reality. And yet I couldn't take the blame for making a lesbian out of her. I had acted as a catalyst, admittedly, but hadn't she been a tomboy to begin with? Even without me, even if our intimate relationship had never blossomed, some other girl would have caught her eye in the same way. My best friend must have been born with those tendencies, I figured, hardly cause for self-reproach on my part. Nobody could be blamed for something that was so obviously a freak of nature.

Still, my conscience kept acting up, burdened by the constant vision of Alix getting so serious when it was only a fun thing for me. Especially since I could neither change her nor find it in my heart to end our serious fun. And eventually, just to ease my guilt, I took a leaf from her book and began paying less attention to boys myself. Then again, it might have been the timing that practically made such a decision for me. Because that was when I was chosen to play the lead in the annual spring pageant, and the scheduled nightly rehearsals didn't leave much opportunity for social life-at least not the kind of social life that consisted of movie dates and parked car smooching and such. At that point it became quite simple to start turning down all the young hopefuls, my would-be wooers. I had an excuse, ready-made and unimpeachable. Even on the nights when we didn't rehearse, I. still had my lines to memorize.

For that matter, at first I almost wished I could have turned down the role, painfully aware of its demands on me. But it would have caused a scandal, of course, the honor was too great. This wasn't just a high school show or anything like that, oh no, it was the pageant, produced annually by the town fathers and attended by everybody within a hundred-mile radius, farmers and factory workers alike-to say nothing of mealy-mouthed politicians. It had become a tradition over the years, an outdoor spectacle with a huge cast milling around in costume, clashing swords and matching chariots in ancient heroic style. All based on the Trojan War, naturally; what better subject for a town named Troy? And so I became the youngest girl ever to play the female lead, fair Helen-"the face that launched a thousand ships"-second in importance only to the big wooden horse itself.

Anyway, despite the demands on my time, things worked out rather nicely as far as our secret romance was concerned. Alix volunteered for the job of helping me learn my lines, and that gave us a chance to be together often. With only a minor part in the show, there was no need for her to stay to the end of every rehearsal; she did, though, just for my sake, knowing that her presence in the wings had a steadying influence on me. But her parents consented to the late-hour homecoming only if she didn't have to go through the dark streets alone, so I got into the habit of walking her home afterward. It was out of the way for me, but I didn't mind at all. I liked that section of town. Better yet, in the comparative calm of night it was easy to think of ourselves as unseen and certainly unspied-upon, sheltered by the darkness that seemed almost as safe as a locked bedroom door. A world of our own once again, surrounded by tall trees and trimmed hedges and lovely old houses, all blurred and shadowy in the low-key illumination of the comer streetlamps. We made use of it, turning each other on with giggly whispers and then pausing in some hidden nook for a hasty kiss or caress, getting homier with every passing minute. How we loved those late-night walks!

But with that kind of opportunity, even aside from the romantic setting, we simply couldn't settle for a few kisses and caresses on the way. The first such night set the pattern. All those hidden-nook stops had been fun, but the Moreau estate was dotted with a profusion of better hiding places. Alix led me to-one of them-darker and infinitely more secluded in a clump of trees out beyond the summerhouse. It was supposed to be for just a goodnight kiss, but somehow both of us had similar expectations of something more, something too precious to giggle about.