by Rose Raven
She laughed.
"Nowadays if I don't want something I just so. But then? I just couldn't. I squealed. Like this."
Alicia gave a little scream, which sounded husky in the silent room.
John laughed, loving her.
"Nan's blazing eyes were raking my belly. She looked at me for a long time, smiling. Then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me upright. She ordered me to take off those hideous panties and bra. I was just as tall as she was, but she was miles above me in authority. I dropped my slip on the floor, like a pupil. She kicked it away with her foot and helped me out of my bra. Then she took me by the shoulders and wheeled me round to look in the standing mirror. 'Grow up,' she said, 'You are no longer an unformed girl without titties and with skinny thighs but the possessor of a full-grown, curvaceous body. You have sinful, grown-up breasts and I love you.' I heard her urge me to look at the beautiful girl in the mirror with the barely visible stomach muscles rippling under a creamy skin, slim yet voluptuously curved with perfect breasts that didn't need a bra, just like the girls in the ads. 'Look at the little pearl glistening in the oyster of your sex, sweet and discreet under your belly,' she whispered in my ear; and touched it. "Admire the long columns of your legs, your tenderly cushioned thighs, your slim ankles.' On and on she went, caressing each body part she described with her hands. She kissed me in the neck and under the ear, she kissed each buttock in turn. And finally she browbeat me into acknowledging to myself that she was right. Her words and touch had triggered an almost uncontrollable urge of excitement."
Alicia suddenly broke off and looked at John.
"Does my story please you?"
He nodded and kissed her wordlessly.
"That's good. That's what I want."
Alicia began to act out her story as she continued:
"Almost mechanically I had begun to run my hands over my body, hypnotised by her voice, her caresses, and soon I was myself caressing the areas from which the greatest heat was coming, like this."
She touched her vagina, closing her eyes.
"I no longer needed Nan's guidance to place my fingers on the pearl inside my vagina, to roll my fingers slowly round and seek out the pleasure within, like this."
A little sob escaped her throat as she pushed her fingers inside her body.
"Nan's breath was on my back, her tongue was running down my backbone, down to the little cushion above the buttocks. I was obeying her blindly when she whispered to me to bend over and to splay my sex for her, like this."
Alicia turned around and, straddling John, splayed her sex for him while she continued to talk.
"You must now do what Nan did, John. You must spread my vagina wide with your thumbs and insert your tongue as far as you can. She tongued me while I continued to touch myself. And then I could feel myself coming. I pushed my buttocks into her face, like this."
With a cry Alicia pushed her flesh hard against John's face and came, scratching his arms and chest. After a while she was able to continue:
"And still Nan went on licking me, and again the climax was building. But now the initiative was mine. We were two flushed and gorgeous young things biting and scratching each other. For the first time, I knew I was as beautiful as any woman. Nan threw me on my back and, fingering both me and herself, breathed that my sex was the softest thing on earth, soft and pink, closed and almost hairless like the sex of a young girl who is only just discovering herself, a lovely plump mound bedewed with the moisture of my own excitement. We came almost at the same time, crying our pleasure. When Nan finally rolled off of me and lay back exhausted, gasping that she had never made such good love in her life, I kept looking in the mirror and thinking that I was the young woman with the jutting breasts and the slender waist behind the glass. Finally I could smile at my reflection. Nan watched me while I slipped my fingers again between my legs and lay masturbating myself in front of the mirror. My buttocks tightened with pleasure, and my knees buckled as I watched myself caressing my belly with my hands and splaying my sex and putting my moist fingers in my mouth. I arched my back and saw my mirror image offering its own wet sex to me. It looked so lewd, so inviting. I kept climaxing in new and stronger orgasms, releasing years of pent-up desire and frustration. I had never been so hungry, so hungry for sexual attention. Time stood still, and still I didn't feel sated, even though my thighs were drenched in moisture, and my legs were trembling from exhaustion and the flesh of my vagina was beginning to ache from all the rubbing. And even when my body finally had no more orgasms left, I was still not satisfied. But when even that didn't still my hunger, I knew that I needed a man to satisfy me, and there was only one man I wanted. One man only. Isn't that cruel? Nan had cured me of my doubts and fears. And yet I could not be satisfied with her. She called in sick so we could stay together in her apartment. We fucked and fucked for what seemed like days, and all the time I knew I would only be able to satisfy my lust with one man. Lust I felt, a terrible hunger that knotted my belly day and night. All too soon, the games with Nan began to pall. She became clinging, moody, aware that she couldn't hold on to me. And one night, she hit me in frustration, and I left."
Alicia rolled over and lay looking at the clouds scudding along London's horizon. Her voice had become contemplative, distant, as if she was looking into a remote past.
"I went in search of other women. I wanted you, yes, but no other men."
She shrugged.
"I didn't want to end up like Mum, jumping into every bed."
She grinned.
"Of course, I jumped into a lot of beds. But these were all women and somehow that was different. I quickly discovered that almost every woman coveted me, even the straight women. I decided to become their plaything. For a while, every fashionable woman in Paris wanted me. I became the latest craze. Oh, they never told their boyfriends or their husbands. They were too uptight for that, or perhaps they were afraid that their men would steal me for their own pleasure. I became a sort of living sex toy they could boast about to favored friends. I adored it. Some wealthy woman or other would call me and say a friend had told her such nice things about me and that she wanted to invite me for a little private dinner to discuss—oh, I don't know, whatever she could decently invent to cover up her real intentions—art, politics, the state of the world. And we would talk of this and that until she'd make her move. I never helped them to get over their initial timidity in asking, and I only made love to the real beauties. Do you remember that French movie, La Grande Bouffe? Where all those guys eat off a woman? It happened to me."
"You're inventing this," John interrupted incredulously.
Alicia laughed.
"Oh, no. The company consisted of beautiful women and they laid me on the table like a succulent dish, and covered me in chocolate and licked me all over."
She sighed.
"It was really nice. And we had an orgy afterwards."
She laughed again.
"I haven't told you the half of it. When we get to know each other better, I'll tell you the really naughty stuff. And if you're a really good boy, I may invite some of my former girlfriends to show you what we did. Instead of me, it'll be you who will be lying naked on the table like an exotic dish. You'll love it.
“No, my sweet, I haven't invented a thing. They would make love to me in luxurious living rooms, on balconies overlooking the Seine, on the table among the dinner dishes, on yachts in the Mediterranean, eager for the sight of my buttocks, the scent of my sex, the taste of my liquid. You've no idea what it was to be loved by a room full of naked women worshipping me like a heathen goddess. I had the freedom to do with them what I wanted. Some were barely older than me, some younger, dangerously young, but all gorgeous, all wanting me. I was their perfect virgin, their role model and every one of them offered me her tongue and hands to send me to heights of passion. You've no idea what goes on in Paris if you know the right people. I ruled them as a goddess should, banishing some, favoring others, ordering girls to make love
for my pleasure. And once - but that's another story."
John stirred impatiently, roused by her story and unconsciously caressing his own penis. She laughed.
"Men," she whispered softly and kissed him on his belly. "But I promised to tell you my story and you must wait, my love."
She caressed him for a moment, enjoying her hold over him, before taking up her story again.
"Meanwhile, Mum had lots of money and kept urging me to travel the world with her in order to find a suitable husband for me. She had no idea what I was doing behind her back. Anyway, that phase didn't last either. I got bored. Can you believe it? In the end, I decided that I needed a job to prove myself. It seemed the only way out of the pointless life I had sunk into.
"And then you arrived. What was I to do? I recognized you instantly. You never knew who I was. But I was desirable for you. Oh yes, I could see that. I was a desirable French girl. I knew that I had turned into a very, very beautiful swan, even for you. So when I saw you eying my boobs, I made the stupid decision to enter your apartment while you were sleeping and to ravish you and to be deflowered by you all at the same time. And then you thought I was a burglar—don't interrupt—and when I woke up in the middle of the night, I felt the pain where you had hit me over the head. I saw you sleeping naked on the floor and felt ashamed at my impulse to visit you and wanted to leave, but I just couldn't. I had set out to seduce you, and I would. So I took your penis in my mouth, and I loved it. I loved the smell of it, the feeling, the size. It was so very different from what women had to offer. I knew then for a certainty that I wasn't made to be a lesbian."
"So I was right! It wasn't a dream, after all."
"No, darling, it wasn't a wet dream. You didn't masturbate in your sleep. I did that for you. It spurted all over me, and then I got scared at what I had done because I had never held a penis in my hand before, and I wondered what you'd say if you woke up, and so I dressed quickly and left. I hated you then."
"Why?" John asked in surprise. "It was you who took the initiative."
"Don't ask. I never said I was logical. Perhaps it was because I blamed you for all the lost years of my life. Perhaps because even then, getting your satisfaction half-asleep from my hand, you seemed to ignore me. Anyway, I decided to continue my relation with that woman you saw. But you kept calling and sending me things and when you showed up here and said you loved me, I knew again, without a doubt, that you were what I had always wanted. You looked so angry when you left and threw my address on the floor! I was quite thrilled. But I decided to let you go because I knew you would come back. I knew you wanted me as much as I do you. You'll never be able to ignore me again," she ended in a small voice. "Kiss me."
"I'll never ignore you again," he whispered, rolling on top of her and kissing her as their bodies clinched again, and their hips joined in perfect harmony.
After a long moment, she wriggled out of his embrace, lay still for a moment, and said, "But I have to ignore you a little longer. I haven't told you the final chapter of my story yet."
The naked lovers were silent, each in their own thoughts. John wondered what she could possibly mean. He lay watching the sun setting over the garden, drowsing, until suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of the doorbell.
Alicia kissed him and stood up.
"Here comes the last chapter of my story."
She shook her head when John stretched out an arm for his trousers.
"No. Stay here. Don't ask."
If John Winters hadn't felt so voluptuous, lying on a thick woolen rug and watching a blackbird pulling a worm from the soil in the garden, his curiosity might have got the better. As it was, he was taken entirely by surprise and swiftly put his hands in front of his genitals when in walked the same blonde who had been feeling up Alicia in the door of her Paris apartment.
"What!" he spluttered, looking around for his jocks.
"This is John," Alicia said to the blonde. "John, this is Annette. Annette is here to say goodbye to me. In private. Meanwhile, you can go through the stuff in the attic like we said, okay?"
She took Annette by the hand and, turning her back to him, steered the blonde out of the room. John heard them talk as they climbed the stairs, heard a door shut somewhere upstairs. The blonde had not spoken a word to him. She hadn't so much as deigned to give him a look. He didn't blame her. He knew what it must be like to have a woman like Alicia taken from you. He hoped their final love-making would be good because he knew instinctively that this was the way the would be saying goodbye. He only regretted that he couldn't be there to witness it.
And then he understood, and he knew what she wanted him to do. Grinning, He crept up the stairs to the first floor and up a second stairs to a door at the top, which creaked when he opened it. And then he was in the attic, the same room from which she had been spying on him all those years before. He peered around in the dark. The spyhole wasn't difficult to spot. A beam of light shone brightly between two floorboards. Softly he lowered himself onto the wooden planks and looked through the hole.
The view was like a wide-angle camera. From what he recalled the room hadn't changed since the time he had lost his virginity in it. Only the occupants had changed. Two women were kissing each other on the bed.
Alicia had already covered the bed with a plastic sheet. With soft kisses and gentle caresses, she was helping the blonde to lie down on her belly. After kissing the girl's muscled buttocks for a long time, Alicia straightened, leaving a love mark on her sweet behind, and left his field of view. For a moment, John had Annette for himself. She was a delicious girl seen from above, all well-defined muscle, narrow waist, and lean haunches through which peeped her vagina, vaguely resembling a pink coffee bean from where he was sitting, or perhaps one of those sticky Arab sweets, all covered in glistening honey, which you can swallow in a single bite.
Alicia came back into view, uncapping a large bottle of olive oil, which she drizzled onto the back of the blonde, gently massaging it into her skin, slipping her hands between the girl's legs and under her belly as though she were lathering her with soap. Then she covered her own torso, which gleamed like burnished copper in the setting sun through the window. Lewdly, she planted a dildo on the floor and, standing in front of the blonde's face, bit by bit, she began spreading her legs like a dancer until she sank onto the rubber toy, gradually allowing it to enter her body until it had entirely disappeared inside her vagina, which rested on the floor. The faces of the two girls were almost touching.
"Now I can finally use this toy," Alicia breathed. "I'm a virgin no longer."
"More's the pity," the blonde whispered back.
Alicia kissed the blonde full on the mouth, a deep, lingering kiss, whispering an endearment John couldn't hear. After a while, she got up and, stepping around the bed, lowered her body lengthwise onto Annette, who kept repeating softly, "I'm going to miss you, I'm going to miss you."
Alicia slid her torso the length of the blonde body, which was lying in a shallow pool of oil, again and again allowing her breasts to caress the blonde vagina as she slithered up and down, pressing her thumbs on the inside of her thighs. Then she sat spread-eagled on the girl's back, her pussy frothing along the blonde's backbone, her head thrown back, tits stretched, eyes on the ceiling, a little smile on her lips as if she knew John Winters was watching them.
She took the dildo from the floor and inserted it in the blonde's vagina and said, "Pricks no, but dildos yes. If ever you change your mind, I will ask my John to initiate you."
John's heart beat faster when the two women kissed in an endless embrace, which gradually became more passionate until they grappled and clawed and bit each other like two raging cats. John could hear them softly call each other's names in the despair of a long goodbye, crying out their primal desire. They knew it was the last time.
Night was falling, and their bodies were becoming difficult to see in the darkened room, lit only by the pale light of the moon and stars. There seemed to be
no end to their play and their cries of desire for each other. But John Winters, physically and mentally fulfilled, was finally falling asleep.
He dreamt that he was asleep in his Paris apartment and that Alicia was a burglar who had broken in and wanted his jewels. And when he woke up, it was almost true. In the dark of the attic, he could make out her head beside his own.
She felt his eyes on her and smiled.
His gaze reflected her own love and her own conviction that they were at the start of a lasting relationship. Their passion and mutual admiration was too strong to be weakened by the inevitable problems of life. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him long and tenderly.
"I wonder what the future will bring," she whispered, but in her heart she knew the answer.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rose Raven works as a painter and sculptor. She always takes time out to write non-fiction books on the arts, as well as fiction romances.
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com