The hands avoided her bottom and jumped down to her feet. Taking a foot each, her friends began with her toes, pulling each one until it cracked. They bent her feet back, doubled them, twisted, kneaded and crushed each little bone. Then the probing moved up to her calf muscles.
As they lifted her legs, she became acutely conscious of her nudity. Oh God! They must be looking straight at my bottom. And they keep pulling my legs open. I'm sure they can see everything. The thought made her tremble. Come on, girl. Stop thinking about it, or they might notice. But the thought only became more insistent as their oily fingers reached the tops of her thighs and started sliding within millimetres of her sex. She felt the swelling start, the feeling of pouting and opening, and she knew she must be getting very wet.
The hands reached her cheeks and squeezed and pulled them. Fingers slipped in and out of her groove as they worked. Then someone poured oil into the top of her cleft and damned it with a finger. Slowly the finger moved down, down towards her secret places. Unable to help herself, she lifted her hips to urge the finger on. She felt it reach her star and gently rub oil onto it. To her surprise, she found herself welcoming it. Ahhh. That's good. Put it inside. I've never done this before. She trembled with illicit excitement as the finger teased her. Yes. Put it in. I can take it. Please, I want it. Two hands eased her cheeks apart, opening her wide for the finger that tantalised her. She pushed her hips up further and spoke out loud. “Please...” Gently, the finger halted against her entrance. She felt herself sucking hungrily at it, but it withdrew suddenly, leaving her gasping. They pushed her firmly back down and rolled her over.
John and Sonya knelt on either side of her, their faces shadowed in the moonlight. John had lost his sarong and she could see his cock standing proudly from his hairy loins. She pulled her friends down to suck kisses from them.
As if by some unfelt command, her lovers twisted and, upside down now, started to wash her face in kisses. Their lips flowed over her eyes, her cheeks, her ears. They nipped and nuzzled her neck and shoulders, moving down onto her chest. As the hungry mouths reached for her breasts, she felt Sonya's hardened nipple drag across her cheek and poke insistently into her mouth. The soft brown breast muzzled her and she began to lick and chew.
John had one breast gently cupped in his hand and was sucking as much as he could into his mouth. His tongue crushed the nipple against the roof of his mouth, rolling it from side to side. Sonya's treatment of her other breast was far from gentle. Seizing it in both hands, she squeezed the nipple up into her mouth. With covered teeth she bit at it from base to tip, pulling and twisting. Pat felt her nipples growing and stretching under their treatment. It was difficult to breathe, and the sinking feeling in her stomach washed down to her sex. As she stroked their heads, her hips moved of their own accord, reaching upwards to offer herself.
The two mouths continued their journey down to her stomach. She spread her knees wide, flat to the mattress, inviting them in. John and Sonya moved their hips in towards her, trapping her in a hot, sexual tent. If she turned her head to one side, her lips rested on Sonya's mound, brushing its trim of short silky hair. On the other side, John's hairy wildness pressed against her cheek. She rubbed her face against one and then the other, enjoying the different textures and scents.
She felt mouths kissing the insides of her thighs, trailing wet tongues up towards her centre, her wet and hungry sex. Hands brushed her hair aside and pulled her lips open. No! They're looking inside me. They're looking right up inside. No. Don't! Christ, I'm coming, I'm coming ... an orgasm swept over her like a brushfire, and she struggled against the weights holding her down. The two tongues moved closer. They followed the line of her groin and dipped deep between her legs. No. They can't lick me there. No! Ahh! Two heads jammed together between her thighs, licking furiously at the entrance to her sex and the smooth skin behind.
God! That's fantastic. They're both doing it to me. I've got two tongues inside me. Yes. They're making me come. Yes. Do it hard. Come inside me. Yes. Ahh. Yes, do it again. Make me do it again. Yes—that's Sonya. She's licking my clit. Oh, she's good. It's just right, I'm coming again. Ahhh.
John joined Sonya and under a barrage of long tongue strokes up and down either side of her bud, Pat came and came again. Her struggles subsided to trembling as climax ran into climax until Sonya, finished her off. She sucked Pat’s clit and most of her lips hard into her mouth and bit them firmly, holding rigidly still until Pat's convulsions died away. Then they both rolled away, and Pat could see again.
“That was fantastic. I've never come like that before.”
John laughed. “That's not all. You've got to deal with us yet.”
John's cock hovered within easy reach, and she bent it to her mouth. She ran her tongue around the head. Sonya allowed her only moments before pulling her away. “No, you don't. That's mine and I tell it what to do. Right now it's got other work for you.”
John moved round to kneel between her legs. Sonya took his sex and peeled its cover slowly back. In the moonlight, its head shone silver with excitement. Pat felt suddenly desperate to have it inside her. Sonya guided it forward until its very tip dipped into her entrance. Mmh. That's it. Push it in. Right in. Don't stop. Don't make me wait. Why is she stopping it there? I want it inside me. Sonya had loosened her grip but was holding John back by the hips. It jumps! It's flicking up and down by itself. He must do it deliberately. That's good. It's like an animal. Ahhh. I could come just from the way it's twitching.
Sonya stretched out beside her, resting her head on Pat's arm. “Is that good? He can do that for ages.”
“Make him put more inside me,” she begged. Seizing John's bushy hair, Sonya pulled him forward until his plum buried itself inside her.
“Squeeze him. It's better if you squeeze him.”
It's difficult. I don't know how to do it. Ooh. That must be it. Ooh. If I squeeze it, it really kicks back. Ooh, yes. I'm going to come just doing this. Ooh. Pat squeezed at his cock and with each squeeze, it leapt inside her. “It's going to make me come”.
“That's right. Keep squeezing. I can see it. You're really sucking at him and you're not moving at all. Your pussy’s making love by itself. Don't stop. Do it now. I'm coming too.” She gripped Pat's thigh between her own and, burying her face in Pat's neck, started on the short road to her climax. Their moans joined together, and they shared their ecstasy.
Sonya looked up. “Put it right in,” she ordered. John sighed and sheathed himself in one long thrust. Pat's body welcomed him. Ahh. That's what I wanted. Right inside. I can feel his hair against me. Now he's taking it out. So long. Ahh, yes. Oh, he's going too fast. He'll come too quickly. No. No, it's OK. Yes. Yes. Ahh, I'm coming. Sonya's coming. She's shouting. Yes. Ahhh. He hasn't finished yet. He's still going. I'm going to do it again. He's getting faster, harder. It's coming – coming!
John reached his frenzy. He was pulling out of her, right out, and slamming back in as hard as he could. Her wet and swollen sex, relaxed from the continuous pleasure she had been riding, needed his pounding. Sonya's hips were grinding furiously at her leg, crushing her pussy against Pat's thigh. They were all panting, oblivious to everything but the turmoil below.
Suddenly John stopped for an instant, poised just outside, muscles tense. “I'm coming,” he managed to gasp as he dived in for one deep final thrust. In the throes of her own climax, Pat felt the rapid heaves as he pulsed into her. They collapsed in silence.
Sonya moved first. “Is he still hard?”
Pat laughed. “Yes. I didn't use it all up.”
“Just as well. I've got to get something inside me quickly. It's OK coming like that, but in the end I have to have it properly.”
Without disengaging, Pat helped John roll over and knelt astride him, still enjoying being filled with his toughness. Sonya threw a leg over his face and as he licked and probed below, hugged Pat to her passionately. Reluctantly, Pat shuffled backwards and Sonya caught the slippery cock as it fel
l from her. “Oh goodie! You've left it just how I like it.” She moved forward and without delay spiked herself on it. She grabbed Pat again and, burying her face against her neck, shook with immediate delight.
Pat knelt astride John's legs and supported her friend as she bounced to another climax. Sonya hung on to her shoulders, holding her close, their breasts swinging together. She's so nice. So innocent. She just wants to climb up and down on his pole until she comes. I love her. If I was a man, I'd do it to her now. I want to see it happening.
Disentangling herself from Sonya, Pat laid her back on top of John. With her head lying on his shoulder and her legs wide, her body was completely open. It's beautiful. I love the way she cuts her hair into a little patch right there and keeps the rest completely bare. It's so soft and smooth. And John is sticking up her from behind. It looks as if he's growing out of her. I can do it to her. If I can just get close enough, I can do it to her now.
Squatting over them, Pat shuffled herself forward until she could press her pussy against Sonya's. She pulled her lips open to swallow Sonya's nude sex. That's fantastic. I can feel her clit up against mine. She's right in between me. If I just move up and down a little.... My God! It's incredible. Hers and mine. She's moving too. I'm going to make her come. I'm going to give her an orgasm. That's beautiful. She's going to come, she's coming, she's coming....
Sonya jerked her hips up in ecstasy, and John's cock sprang free of her. It lodged between its two female friends. Ahhh. It wants to join in. It wants to be the meat in our sandwich. I've got a place for that. If I can just reach it from behind—great! If I'm careful I can do it to them both. Using John as a guide, she started to rock her pussy furiously against Sonya. She rode as hard and as fast as she could. With her lovers watching, she was catapulted to the end of her race.
She woke late the next morning with Sonya's head resting on her shoulder. They must have carried her into the bedroom and put her to sleep between them. John appeared from the kitchen, bringing a delightful smell of coffee and hot buttered toast. He laid the tray on the bed. “Good morning. How are you after that disgraceful exhibition last night?”
“Mmh. I'm not sure. It seems fine. Give me some of that toast first, and I might let you check if everything is still in its place.”
Sonya opened an eye and stared at her. “You're a crazy lady too. I never would have guessed.”
* * * *
The air seemed startlingly empty as the recording clicked off. The room stirred. Slowly people looked at each other and spoke in low voices. Priscilla suppressed a smile. She would allow them a little time to get worked up about what they had just heard before she completed her attack.
At the table, the Board members looked at each other uncomfortably. In front of them, Trehearne was expressionless. Valerie cleared her throat, and conversation died away as the room waited to hear her. “Ah—well. Now we have all heard that, I suppose I had better ask the Investigator to make a closing statement so that we can move to a decision.”
At this point Trehearne sat forward. “Excuse me, Madam Chairperson. I am not familiar with your normal method of proceeding, but when do we have a chance to discuss the book?”
Valerie looked as if she were at a loss. Matters like this were never discussed. Priscilla could not remember an occasion when there had been anything to consider, and the story they had just heard was so obviously perverse that any discussion was superfluous. Valerie looked at the other Board members uncomfortably.
She sat up firmly. “We don't normally discuss things like this, Trehearne.”
He seemed unperturbed. “Oh, I am sure there are some things that should be mulled over before the Board moves to a decision. We would not like to behave in an undemocratic fashion, wouldn't you say? And consideration before action is part of democracy, I believe.”
Valerie seemed put out. She leaned over to her neighbours, and they whispered between themselves. Priscilla could see they were worried. Perhaps they felt the eye of the media on them.
Valerie addressed the room. “We have heard evidence of the nature of the book. That much is clear. The applicant says he would like to discuss it before we move to a decision, and in the interest of democracy we should encourage that. However, Trehearne,” and here she looked down her long nose at the man seated before her, “I must warn you that the Board will not tolerate any wasting of its time. Right—discuss!”
“Thank you, Madam Chairperson,” said Trehearne, rising to his feet. “We have just heard a fine recital of the first story in Foreign Affairs 1. I hope that at least some of our audience enjoyed it. However, I can see from the steely glint in the Investigator's eye that she did not. Perhaps we would move forward faster if she could explain to us which parts of the story she found unacceptable.”
Priscilla was taken by surprise but determined not to yield an inch. Trehearne might be thinking he could make a fool of her, embarrass her by forcing her into talking about perverse practices and private feelings, but he would find out just how tough she could be.
“Your question is ridiculous, Trehearne. The whole thing was disgusting. But suppose you start straight away by considering the photographs of the girls on the calendar. They were clearly portraying women in a demeaning light, treating them purely as objects, not as people. And note that all of this happens in the first paragraphs of your book. The public would be distressed to know that there is far worse material later on.”
“Very well. I understand you are objecting to photographs of beautiful women—”
“Beautiful women with no clothes on!”
“Yes, that's right. Beautiful women with no clothes on. I feel your position is quite unreasonable. I believe that modern magazines for ladies are full of images of women with very little clothing or none at all. The ladies in these magazines are all models, and it is their profession to keep themselves beautiful and pose for photographs. Are we to assume that the Investigator would wish to stop them working?”
A mutter of quiet comment came from behind him, and it seemed to give him approval.
Priscilla had to reply, but she already had the feeling that Trehearne might be better at argument than he appeared. “The point is not the profession of the women concerned, although they must be pretty simple if they call standing around with no clothes on a profession. The point is that they were there for men to drool over, and that gives men unhealthy, sexist thoughts.”
Trehearne smiled at her in an approving way. “Thank you, Miss Investigator. There may be men or women who think degrading thoughts when they see any photograph. I would submit our characters are not like that. They're nice, sensitive people, aren't they?” Again an approving murmur from the audience.
“Nice and sensitive? They are perverts!”
“Really? Is that how you see them? I suppose I should question you about how you define ‘perverts’. I hope you don't just mean people who do things that it would embarrass you to enjoy or admit to enjoying? What exactly do you object to?”
Priscilla saw a trap opening for her. She could hardly admit to her private hatred of the thought of two women making love to each other. The Lesbian Faction was far too vocal and there had been no violence or children involved. Trehearne had maintained an aura of extreme perversion without giving her anything substantial to get hold of. She decided to try another tack, one she had been keeping in reserve. “Trehearne, please tell the Board how much of this book is autobiographical.”
Trehearne thought for a moment before addressing the Board. “Madam Chairperson. The Investigator has asked me a serious question that I am not able to answer. Some of this book I know to be true. Some I heard about second-hand, and some is pure imagination. But all through it, there are real people involved—admittedly under other names. As a gentleman, I cannot encourage any speculation that might identify the real characters without their permission.”
Valerie froze with surprise. “Some of this is true?”
“Yes. Approximately three-qua
rters, I would say.”
“You mean people actually do these things?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
Priscilla leaped to the rescue. “Chairperson, it's approaching twelve o'clock. Might we stop for lunch now and continue the discussion this afternoon?”
Valerie turned to her in a daze before nodding. “Very well. We'll reconvene at two o'clock.” The room filled with a hubbub as the Board rose to leave. The media crowded out of the room, eager to get reports back to their editors.
Priscilla lunched alone in her room on sandwiches and yoghurt. She felt unhappy with the way things had gone. Trehearne was far smarter than she had anticipated. He just sat there looking calm and rational. His presence in the room was so positive that the spectators had begun to favour him, and that could make her look like an intemperate bully. She would have to take care to make him do more of the talking. He would damn himself with his own words. She had just kicked off her shoes and put her feet on the desk when the telephone rang. It was Valerie, asking her to come down to her office.
All three Board members were there, sitting in the comfortable chairs of Valerie's conference area, watching the television. Without taking their attention away from the screen, they waved Priscilla to a seat. The presenter was wrapping up a panel of experts. “So there we have it. Professor Holmes is nearly certain that John Trehearne's civil rights are being infringed by the nature of the Board hearing, but on the other hand, he found the story we heard was not suitable for the general public. Theatre critic Rosalie Williams found the story thought-provoking and would like to hear a radio play made of it, as a stage play would be too explicit and—she feels—too exhausting for the actors. What do you feel? Telephone and let us know. Station 12 will continue its live coverage as soon as the Board reconvenes, and we hope that this afternoon's events will be as – er – thought-provoking as this morning's.”
“That's terrible!” burst out Priscilla. “They're treating us like a circus. This is a very serious issue.”
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