by Selena Kitt
The girls on the screen were naked in no time, kissing and rubbing up against each other on the blanket they had spread on the sand. Leah wondered how in the world they had filmed it with no one discovering their whereabouts, but the beach remained deserted. The blonde’s tongue licked at the dark-haired girl’s fat nipples, making the dark-haired girl touch herself between the legs. Leah noted her pubic hair had been completely shaved off. Glancing over at Erica and seeing she wasn’t paying any attention, Leah slid her hand down, moving her skirt aside so she could cup her mound—just to ease the ache a little bit.
“Watch,” Erica whispered, and the movement under her skirt, as the scene revealed something Leah never thought she’d find arousing—but it was. The blonde moved between the dark-haired girl’s legs, spreading her bare lips open with her fingers, and beginning to lick her there. Her mound glistened in the sun with her juices.
“What do you think?” Erica asked, and Leah watched as her other hand snuck up under her blouse, moving over her own breast.
“I don’t know.” Leah could barely breathe, feeling how damp her panties were under her hand. She longed to pull them aside and rub herself. The dark-haired girl played with her own nipples as the blonde licked and sucked between her legs. Leah closed her eyes, feeling the growing fever, and she found she couldn’t escape it—the images on the screen were too magnetic.
“Does it really feel that good?” Leah gulped, pushing her panties aside. She couldn’t help it, she was so swollen and wet and yearning to be touched.
“Oh Leah, you have no idea.” Erica’s breath came faster, her skirt pulled up, and Leah could see her hand working under her panties. “I wish I had a tongue right now.”
On the screen, the blonde’s tongue licked like lightning, her fingers pumping in and out. Tentatively, Leah dared to slide a finger down and in as she watched, rubbing the tender little bit at the top of her cleft with her thumb. It felt so good she could barely stand it—but she couldn’t stop. The girl on screen was shaking, mouth open, eyes closed and head thrown back. She was coming.
“They take turns,” Erica whispered as she started pulling her panties down. She opened her knees wide as she touched herself, her fingers making wet noises, and Leah watched them dip down inside of her.
Sure enough, on screen, the blonde was lying down now, and the brunette was between her legs. There was no hair between the blonde’s legs either, her lips puffy and fat.
“Oh God, that feels so good,” Erica murmured and Leah couldn’t help watching her heave with it, her friend’s eyes closing as she bit her lip.
Leah’s hand moved even faster, seeing Erica’s shirt riding up, her nipple peeking over where she had her bra pulled down. Maybe the movie was serving as inspiration, but Leah had the urge again to lick it as she leaned up on her elbow and watched, but this time she didn’t stop herself, she dared to feather a kiss on the tip of her friend’s nipple and heard Erica sharp intake of breath, her eyes flying open.
“I’m sorry,” Leah apologized, seeing the shock on Erica’s face, feeling it heave in her own belly. “I’m so sorry!”
Erica moaned, shaking her head. “Do it again, Leah. Oh please, do it again!”
The longing in her friend’s voice made her lean back in, this time with her tongue, licking her nipple. It felt hard and a little rubbery, but Erica’s reaction was quite satisfying as she moaned again, whispering, “Oh yes,” and arching her back. Her nipples were pink and they hardened like little pebbles. Leah licked back and forth, around and around, watching the pleasure filling her friend’s face. It was intoxicating.
“Oh, Leah!” Erica’s hand made a wet squelch as she fingered herself. Leah latched onto her friend’s nipple, sucking it into her mouth, the ache between her own legs growing like a fever, making her crazy. “Oh make me come, I’m gonna come!”
And she did, hips propelled up like a rocket, her hand shoved deep between her legs, Leah’s tongue working her nipple for all she was worth. She wanted to come too, but didn’t, pressing her whole hand over her sex as she watched Erica climax, just holding the feeling there between her own thighs. Watching Erica’s orgasm was powerful, spectacular, and knowing she had a part in it was exhilarating.
“Oh my God,” Erica murmured, her hand, wet with her juices, resting on her quivering tummy. “That felt so good.”
“It sure looked like it.”
Erica met Leah’s eyes, smiling. “Want me to make you feel good too?” She leaned up on her elbow and pressed Leah flat on the bed. “It’s only fair we take turns.”
Leah hesitated, shaking her head, but Erica was pulling her blouse up, her bra down, and had her mouth on Leah’s breast before she could say anything at all. Erica’s tongue was like liquid fire over her nipple, and she sought the other one too, rubbing with her fingers through the material of her bra.
“Erica!” Leah looked down to see her friend’s mouth working as she sucked her nipple in deep. “Oh God!”
It was wrong. It was really, really wrong. Deviant, even. Whether you were judging by the church, the Bible, or community standards, Leah knew what they were doing was horribly immoral and wicked. But it felt far too good to stop.
She had to touch herself. She had to. She didn’t have a choice. The feeling between her legs was too great, too much to ignore. She struggled her panties down, and Erica helped, tugging them past her knees and putting a hand on Leah’s thigh as she began to rub herself in fast circles. Erica’s tongue made the same pattern over her nipple, sending shockwaves through Leah’s body, right down between her legs.
When Leah felt fingers parting her, her eyes flew open. She started to protest until Erica slid them inside, working them slowly in and out as Leah rubbed herself. It felt too good for her to say no. She saw a glimpse of the girls on the screen, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open to watch. She was too distracted by her friend’s mouth and hand.
“Do you really want to know what a tongue feels like?” Erica whispered against Leah’s breast. Leah met her friend’s eyes and saw how hungry she was and wondered if she looked that way too. “I’ll do it to you. Do you want me to?”
Leah groaned, contemplating just what exactly constituted a mortal sin, as the fire between her thighs went from blazing to white-hot at the thought. Leah shook her head but the word that came out of her mouth was, “Yes!”
Before Leah knew what was happening, Erica was between her legs, and her friend’s tongue moving between her lips was like nothing she had imagined. It was beyond pleasure. There weren’t words for how good it felt when Erica’s soft, eager tongue found that ticklish nub at the top of her crevice and started licking there.
“Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Leah moaned, her head going back, letting herself go completely—she knew she couldn’t stop it if she tried. Erica’s fingers moved in and out of her wetness and she lapped and sucked at the hard little nubbin, that pleasure button, making soft wet sounds between Leah’s legs. Erica made an encouraging noise in her throat, reaching her other hand up under Leah’s blouse to tug at her nipple, increasing her sweet misery more than she thought possible.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God!” Leah cried, arching and twisting. It felt so good, she never wanted it to end. Her whole sex throbbed under Erica’s mouth, and she knew she couldn’t hold back, even as much as she wanted to. Erica was going to make her come, her tongue moving fast, back and forth, her fingers keeping the same rhythm, urging her on.
“Erica!” Leah wanted to somehow give her a warning, or to express to her how good it felt, how incredible it was, but all she could manage was, “Now!”
Leah’s whole body thrust against her friend as she came, and Erica’s tongue moved even faster, the vibration of her moaning against Leah’s mound making her climax even more intense. It went on and on, and Leah felt those wild, snapping contractions around her friend’s fingers, drawing them in deeper, her hot little bud fluttering against her friends lapping tongue. When the tremors began to subside, E
rica rested her cheek against Leah’s thigh, her hair tickling.
Leah couldn’t open her eyes, too overwhelmed with feeling—and shame. How could she have let this happen? In the wake of her ecstatic release, rational thought finally returned. Erica moved up next to her friend, her breath warm against her cheek, and there was a musky kind of smell on her breath Leah knew was from having her face buried between her thighs.
“Did it feel good?” Erica pressed the length of her body to her friend’s.
Leah nodded, not opening her eyes. Good wasn’t the word for it. She swallowed hard, still a little breathless, and that’s when she felt Erica’s lips touching hers. They were soft, warm and wet. Her whole face was wet—her cheeks, her chin. Leah’s eyes flew open when Erica’s tongue touched hers, and the taste in her mouth was tangy and strange.
“You taste good,” she whispered, breaking the kiss and looking at Leah—Erica’s eyes were searching, hungry, pleading. “Can it be my turn now?”
Leah bit her lip, the shock of her friend’s request making her recoil with shame.
How could she possibly do such a thing?
How could she not?
“Please?” Erica rolled off, pulling up her skirt and spreading her lips. Her pubic hair glistened, and her finger nudged the pink, hard button, showing her friend where she wanted a hot, wet tongue. “Just right here. Just lick it a little.”
Shaky, Leah sat up and knelt between Erica’s legs, looking down at her. Erica looked almost shy, like she was afraid Leah would say no, and that decided it. Leah stretched out between her friend’s thighs, spreading them wider to make room, the skin there so soft it was shocking against her palms.
“Here,” she said again, her finger pointing to the small, hooded nodule of flesh.
Leah took a deep breath and touched her tongue to it, moving just the tip back and forth as Erica spread herself wide. The taste wasn’t much different from what she’d tasted in her friend’s mouth. The smell was kind of musky, and her curly blonde hairs tickled Leah’s nose.
“Oh, Leah,” she moaned, arching, pressing up against her tongue. “Yes, yes, like that!”
The sounds Erica made were encouraging and Leah moved her tongue faster, sinking deeper into her flesh. Erica moaned louder, rolling her hips, encouraging Leah to do circles, and she licked her that way, tongue flat, moving around and around. Erica’s breath came faster, and she moved her hands up to her own breasts, pulling on her nipples as Leah licked her.
Erica’s swollen lips swallowed Leah’s mouth now that Erica wasn’t spreading herself open. And Leah had to really move in to keep focused on that tender pink button, her nose pressed against the soft hairs of Erica’s mound. Between her own saliva and Erica’s juices, Leah felt like she was drowning, and all she could do was swallow as she tried to keep up that same, fast rhythm.
“That’s it,” Erica whispered, looking down, her eyes just slits. “You’re doing it. Oh God, Leah, you’re going to make me come again!”
The power in those words was incredible and Leah’s own sex contracted, pulsing, as Erica started to climax. She could feel the vibration of her friend’s flesh under her lapping tongue as Erica moaned and thrust against her mouth, taking every last bit of pleasure from her climax as she could manage. Leah kissed her way slowly north as Erica’s trembling began to subside, her lips brushing her friend’s hipbone, the slanted scar over her hipbone from her brush with appendicitis, her navel, Erica’s skirt pushed far up her waist now. Erica’s hands pulled at her, and Leah moved from between her legs, coming to lie next to her friend on the bed.
“Mmmm.” Erica’s hands moved over her own thighs like they had after her orgasm before, just petting herself lightly. She looked over at Leah and smiled. “Doesn’t it feel good to be bad?”
Leah raised her fingers to her lips, still wet with her friend’s juices, and nodded.
She had to admit—it really did.
Chapter Five
“Did you know Liz Taylor’s waist is just nineteen inches?” Erica huffed, tossing the magazine she’d read the particular fact in and standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, attempting once again to tighten the belt around her waist. The dress was a gorgeous pink Christian Dior with a pleated, sweetheart bodice. Beads and sequins were appliquéd down the sheer overskirt in a floral vine, and she was wearing a tightly cinched corset and two petticoats to emphasize the curve of her waist.
“Mine’s nineteen inches.” Leah abandoned her pursuit through Erica’s 45s—they were scattered across the floor, as usual—and came to stand next to her friend. She was also wearing a Christian Dior, borrowed from Erica’s closet of course. Hers was a creamy ivory affair, just as strapless, the skirt just as full, thanks to her own two petticoats, with a fat, red rose pattern. “But I have to stuff my bra. So before you go getting all frosted about the size of your waist, you should thank your lucky stars you were blessed with what’s above it!”
“Aw, don’t get all cranked about it.” Erica kissed Leah’s cheek, leaving a lipstick mark. “Those falsies make you look like Jane Mansfield.”
“Not when the dress comes off,” Leah scoffed, wiping at the lipstick on her cheek and adjusting the uncomfortable padding in her bra. She hated how it felt, but she had to admit, the resulting swells in the front of her dress were satisfactory.
“Well your dress has no chance of coming off before bedtime tonight, unless you plan on forcing Father Michael to stray from his vows.” Erica raised her eyebrows and then waggled them. “Not that I would mind!”
Leah looked at her friend with wide eyes, taking a very exaggerated step away from her side.
Erica stopped primping, smoothing the blonde waves in her hair. “What are you doing?”
Leah smirked. “Standing out of the way of the lightning bolt.”
“God doesn’t strike down Catholics.” Erica rummaged through her drawer, pulling out a pair of long, elbow-length white gloves, and another ivory pair for Leah. “That’s why we have confession, remember?”
God would strike me down if he knew what I was thinking, Leah thought, busying herself with pulling on her gloves and getting her little beaded ivory clutch. Her sins were far greater than thinking lustful thoughts about a man of the cloth—Leah was fantasizing about her best friend’s father. That had to be at least two levels of hell worse somehow, she was sure of it.
“So do you know who it is?” Leah inquired, pinching her cheeks in the mirror to give them more color. They were wearing pink hues, as usual—no red allowed on lips or fingernails—but she still looked pale as a ghost.
“Of course.” Erica grinned, pinching her own cheeks. “No one can keep a secret from me.”
“Who?” Leah asked, grabbing Erica’s gloved hand in hers and squeezing. Mr. Nolan was unveiling one of his portrait photographs that night at a small, but very prestigious, dinner party. The guests included local clergy so the girls had been advised to be on their best behavior.
“My lips are zipped.” Erica drew her finger across her mouth, shaking her head and opening her door for a quick escape as Leah chased her down the hall, trying to get it out of her.
“Girls! Girls!” Solie met them coming from the other direction, carrying a cascade of coats, most of them mink or fox, her dark face beaded with sweat. She’d been cooking all day, and Leah and Erica had been “helping” by sampling most of the menu, getting their hands slapped on several occasions. But it had been worth it. “Slow down! You’re young ladies, not wild injuns!”
Erica stopped short of the living room, out of breath from her sprint, and Leah stopped behind her, seeing the grown-ups look up as they made their entrance, a cloud of hazy blue smoke hanging over the room, wafting upwards in the draft of the ceiling fan high above them. Mr. Nolan didn’t smoke and refused to let Erica start—although she snuck cigarettes with Bobby anyway—but he made exceptions for guests.
Mrs. Nolan had smoked like a chimney, dying of lung cancer at the
age of thirty-seven, and Leah had heard Mr. Nolan’s lectures about the dangers of smoking so often she could quote the statistics by heart. He was adamant that the European studies had it right: smoking caused cancer, in spite of Robert Young’s assurance “Camels agree with your throat” in all the ads. When Erica did it, she was just trying to look cool, but Leah figured there wasn’t much she could add to her own repertoire to improve her cool factor, so she abstained. Besides, she didn’t know if it did or didn’t cause cancer, but she figured she was better safe than sorry.
The living room divider had been moved, pushed back to the wall of her little dance studio to make room, more chairs set up for the extra guests. She recognized half the faces, including Father Michael and Father Patrick, as well as Mother Superior and Sister Abigail and Leah’s mother and her boss, who Leah had called Mr. Eyebrows since she was little, although his last name was Highbrow. There were more faces she didn’t recognize though, a sea of black and white, cassocks and wimples alike.