Hugh Flungit - Gay-Girl Games

But the fight had gone out of Noelle by then and she seemed to melt all of a sudden. My grip slackened. Triumph surged through me as I felt her, age turn to affection. Or was it lust? Even now, those feverish little hands were fucking my skirt up and clawing at my panties. And that resourceful mouth of hers was kissing up my thighs even as she gasped for breath-yes, this was where it belonged, that mouth, this was its true purpose in life; hadn't I taught her that? No complaining or sulking or whining or shouting or shrieking. No hysterics. Only this…

The sound of our heavy breathing was already too loud. We didn't hear the key scratching m the lock. Nor did we see the front door swing open. Only when an unfamiliar voice became suddenly audible did I realize that we were no longer alone in the house. I froze. They were standing there, a middle aged couple, aghast at the sight of their beloved daughter sucking a cunt. My stomach turned over and I retched. Vomited. All over the floor. All over the rug, All over the glass fragments from the broken lamp. And all over my teaching career, or-course, all over my college degree…

It was a degree I never got. There was no scandal, oddly enough, it was all kept hushed up. I was asked to resign from the university and to seek my means of livelihood elsewhere preferably in some other state. I didn't ever dare go home; besides, what excuse could I make for the best Helen the town of Troy ever had? I felt alone. Alone and helpless. No one to turn to, not a friend left in all the world.

But that wasn't really true oh no I did have a friend, someone who would be glad to see me. Someone who would put me up and tide me over the rough spots until I got myself straightened out. A phone call would cadge an invitation, even If the bereaved widow didn't need consolation any more.

The lamp must have still been on when I dozed off. The last thing I could recall" was looking up at the ceiling mirror again and renewing my optimistic view of life. With my youth and beauty still intact, I just wasn't going to let that one bad break get me down. A college degree wasn't so important these days. And who wanted to be a teacher anyway, what kind of life was that for a beautiful girl? And I was beautiful, sure enough, that mirror up there told me so. You're so vain…

When my eyes flickered open, it was as if only a couple of minutes had passed. As if I hadn't fallen asleep at all. But she was coming out of the bathroom in a black negligee, so some time must have elapsed since my eyelids got droopy. Or was I still fast asleep and in the middle of a dream?

No. Only the color was the same, this was a different negligee. And the body inside it showed a difference, too, very slight but noticeable to someone on the watch for it. She had gained a few pounds, marriage must have agreed with her. Or maybe it was the result of wealthy widowhood. She wasn't fat though, thank heaven, far from it-that extra bit of poundage was beautifully distributed and made her more voluptuous, more attractive than ever. Hardly the kind of weight gain that would cause a woman to hire a full-time masseuse, oh no, I was glad to see that my darling Lizabeth was no less shapely as a widow than she had been as a whore-for which I uttered a long-pent-up sigh of relief.

"Sue? You're awake?"

“I'm awake. When did you get in?"

"A while ago. Does it matter?"

"Well, you must have been pretty sneaky to-"

"Hush, dear. This is no time for trivia." She sat down on the edge of the bed and gave me a quick kiss, just an affectionate greeting, nothing more. "First tell me about your troubles. What you said on the telephone, is it all true?"

"I'm afraid so. Sad but true. I got caught with my pants down and they busted me out of school. No publicity, though-it was all done quietly, so I guess I'm lucky in my own unlucky way, considering the gravity of the crime. But let's not talk about that now, I'm trying to forget it."

"Poor baby. I understand. Aren't you glad you've got a rich friend to take care of you? Aren't you glad one of us was smart enough to plan ahead and make it work? It happened just like I said it would, remember? I married an old fart with money and hung around till he petered out-if you'll excuse the expression. And now I'm loaded, isn't that nice?"

"Uh-huh. I know. I read your note."

"Were you comfortable here? How do you like the mirror, isn't it wild? You got along with Zona okay, didn't you? She didn't get into one of her bitchy moods, I hope."

"The answer is yes to all three questions. And no, Zona wasn't in a bitchy mood at all, she was very sweet to me."

"Oh? How sweet?"

"Well… "

"Honey, are you blushing? I'll turn up the light and-"

"Don't bother. Oh shit, I might as well come clean, confession is good for the soul, they say. Besides, you're bound to find out sooner or later. I made it with Zona-and you've only yourself to blame, keeping me waiting so-"

"You made it how? What happened?"

"Nothing much. She figured out the condition I was in and suggested a massage. One thing led to another-she's got good hands, you know?-and the way I was feeling, horny to begin with, well, I let her suck me off. It only happened once, just-"

"You let her? It was her idea?"

"Uh, if you're going to get technical about it… "

"It was your idea, right? And knowing Zona as I do, you probably had to convince her. I'll bet. What did you do, pussycat, plead with her? Beg?"

"Okay, so now you know. I begged her, that's how hot I was, but only because you weren't here."

"You begged my servant. I guess that makes you pretty low, wouldn't you say? Still, it does simplify matters; at least I know where to fit you in around here. I've always wanted a beautiful little slave-girl, this must be my lucky day. Wouldn't you like to be my slave girl, darling?"

"Silly… "

"Come. Get up. A slave-girl shouldn't be lying in bed while her mistress is standing." Lizabeth rose to her feet. "You can't see from where you are. And I do want you to watch."

"I don't mind getting up. But not because I'm your slave-girl, so please don't call me that. There now, I'm up. What am I supposed to be watching?"

She smiled and started to sway, humming a little tune under her breath, indistinguishable except for the rhythmic beat. The negligee billowed and then appeared to float away with a shake of her shoulders. It was like an optical illusion, but no more startling than her sudden nudity; since when did she run around naked? Maybe she got used to it to please her husband, maybe it made him peter out that much sooner.

It was a sight to see, though. Her hands moved in a balanced pattern, almost hypnotic to my gaze, slipping sensuously over the lush curves, the hills and hollows of creamy flesh. The swaying went through a strange metamorphosis, its energy flow taking on the characteristics of a coiled spring in a series of softly squirming undulations. The overall transfer was always downward, compelling as a barber pole in rotation, sucking the surrounding environment in to become a kind of cyclorama to show off those impossibly perfect legs of hers, earthy and erotic and almost unbearably beautiful.

Only when her body itself began to rotate did the spell begin to weaken, restoring a certain freedom back to my eyes and allowing me to appreciate all the sleekly contoured parts in the configuration of this new view. I licked my lips with a tingling tongue, tasting old memories and sniffing out their lewdly organic origins, the mysterious but no longer untapped mysteries of the furrowed darkness where the heat bubbled and the sun had never shone.

Completing the slow pirouette, she beckoned me close with her hands and leered with almost infuriating complacency as the ripe nippled thrust of her breasts became my undoing. We made contact, bosom to bare bosom, and I moaned in complete and unqualified surrender and knew once again the ecstatically excruciating sensation of sexual submission…