Archive-name: linda

From: an229867@anon.penet.fi

Subject: CvdL "Linda" 1/2 (ff)

I've tried, unsuccessfully, to earn a living at this, or even to just get published. Who understands such things? I hope you'll find pleasure in this: perhaps that's reward enough. ---Charisse van der Lyn

by
Charisse van der Lyn

I was born in 1950, and I was a virgin when I went to college. My childhood was scarred by the relentless teasing of other children in my neighborhood and in school. Puberty came early for me. I developed large, firm breasts before the other girls even thought about wearing bras. The boys leered and called me names behind my back, but I heard, so did the girls I thought might be friends. Worst for me was when my pubic hair grew in, lush and black. In gym class I couldn't hide it. In a bathing suit, underwear or the showers, the other girls teased me mercilessly. I learned to see myself as a freak. As the only child of a single mother, who never had time to talk with her daughter, I never knew I wasn't. I considered my private parts a curse. I never touched my self for pleasure, and to keep the boys from trying--I knew enough to know they would--I never dated.
In college, although I tried to dress privately, it was impossible to keep Samantha, my roommate, from seeing me. This happened in my second semester. We were both ready for bed, Samantha in white bikini panties and a burgundy tee shirt, and I was wearing a long, dusty rose robe. I was studying for an exam. I knocked over a cup of hot coffee in my lap.
"Damn!"
Samantha jumped up from her bed and without asking grabbed my robe and pulled it out and up. "You okay?"
"Yes. Thanks."
Samantha looked down and caught a glimpse of my crotch. I tried to yank the robe out of her hand, but instead I fell backwards, and landed with the robe up around my stomach. "Oh God!" I cried and covered myself with my hands.
Samantha knelt next to me. "Why are you embarrassed?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm a freak. I know."
Samantha pulled my hands away and stared at my mound. "It's beautiful." She lightly touched my hair with her finger tips, but I pushed her hand a way and covered myself with my hands.
"Don't. Please," I said. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to push out the memories.
"I'm sorry," Samantha said. "It's just that you're beautiful, and hard to resist." Samantha stood up. "I'll talk with the Dean tomorrow, and ask for a different room," she said turning away from me.
I opened her eyes. "No, please," I said. "I like you, and I trust you. I can't face getting a new roommate."
Samantha grinned, "I like you too. I'm glad you want me to stay." She sat down, and brazenly cross legged on her bed.
I pulled myself to my feet, and sat down in my chair, facing Samantha. I couldn't help noticing Samantha's panties, her crotch was wet.
"That's what you do to me," Samantha said.
I blushed. "I'm going to sleep." I got into bed. "You're terrible." I pulled the covers up over my head.
I tried to dismiss Samantha's behavior as showing off, but I still felt Samantha' finger tips on my bush, and I couldn't stop thinking of what I had seen of her.
Samantha turned the light off. "Night," she said. In the dark, I heard her sheets rustling, and she moaned quietly.
In the morning, Samantha woke up when I came back from using the bathroom. Samantha grinned, "What are you doing this weekend?"
"Studying. Here."
Samantha sat up in bed. "I just had an idea."
"What?"
"How about a weekend in the country?"
"Where?" I asked.
"My Aunt Linda's. I told you about her and Uncle Jonathan. They live on the coast."
"I don't want to be any trouble." It sounded great. "Sure they'll put us up?"
Samantha grinned. "I'll call Linda today. But I know they'll like you. You may have trouble leaving."

I stood nervously on the steps, while Samantha rang the doorbell. I heard a woman's voice, calling out, and a man's footstep approaching the door.
"Uncle Jonathan!" Samantha screamed at the man who opened the door. He was fifty, thin, with a short graying beard. He grinned at Samantha and hugged her.
She put her arms around his neck. "I've brought you someone for the weekend." Samantha whispered something in his ear. "I can't stay. But I think you'll like her. I do."
Samantha laughed and turned to me, "Well?"
I stepped forward to meet Jonathan. "I'm pleased to meet you."
"Give me your bag. I'll show you your room." He looked at Samantha, "When will we see you?"
"I'll pick Nina up Monday morning."
"You're leaving?" I turned to her. "I thought w--"
"Can't, I had other plans that I couldn't break. I promise you'll love it. I'll join you for breakfast Sunday." Samantha ran down the stairs. "Give Aunt Linda a kiss for me."
Jonathan took my arm. "Come on. You'll want to freshen up before dinner."
Samantha's Aunt Linda came down the stairs as Jonathan was closing the door. She was in her forties, my mother's age. But where my mother showed her years, in weight and creases, Linda was slender and lithe with creamy skin. Her blue eyes twinkled with life and love.
"Honey," Jonathan said, putting my bag down, "that was Sam. She dropped off a friend for the weekend. Nina, this is my wife, Linda. Honey, this is Nina."
Linda was wearing a translucent, loose flowing gown, tied in the front. She was toweling her short brown hair dry when they came in. he put the towel on the banister, and took my hand, "I'm pleased to meet you." She leaned forward to give me a kiss on the cheek. She lingered, with her lips gently pressed against my cheek, letting me smell her perfume, fresh from her bath.
"Jonathan, I'll take her bag, and show her up."
Linda led me to my room. It was warm, and airy; wallpapered with a floral design of roses. It even had its own bathroom. The bed was king size, and there were two large, stuffed chairs, each covered with pillows. Linda put the bag down. "There are towels, and soap, and probably anything you might want."
I stood at the window, looking down at their yard. "I like your garden. I'd like to see more," I said. "I've always loved lilies. . . ." I could feel Linda's eyes on me. I felt embarrassed that I wearing a tee shirt and tight, old, cutoffs. I knew they showed too much. ". . . My mother had a garden. Could I see more of yours?"
"You'll like my garden," Linda said, "and I'd like to show it to you."
I sat down on the bed. "Linda, I not sure why I'm here. Samantha promised a weekend in the country. And I thought she'd be here."
Linda moved next to me. "Sam is very special to us, and any friend of hers--anyone she thinks I'll like--well, that makes you special."
I felt my cheeks flush. "But--"
Linda took my hand in hers. "Honey, relax. I know I'm old enough to be your mother." She pushed a strand of my long, black, hair out of my face, and behind my shoulder. "But I hope you'll think of me as a friend."
"I'm not in the way, am I?"
Linda placed her cool hands on my cheeks. She locked her eyes on mine. I felt as if Linda were probing my soul. I wanted to look away, but couldn't move.
Linda kissed me lightly on the lips. "You're anything but in the way," Linda said. She stood up and walked to the door. "We'll eat around seven. You can nap, bathe, and join us anytime." She opened the door. "Perhaps you'd like to wear something more summery. Take a look in the closet if you 'd like." She closed the door behind her.
I was confused, but I liked Linda and Jonathan, and I loved the house. The bathroom was large, with an old fashioned tub, long enough to stretch out in. I turned on the water. On the marble vanity was a basket of soaps and bath oils. I picked out a green packet of Vita Bath, and poured into the tub. While I waited, she looked around the room. The closet was full of all sorts of women's dresses, in a variety of sizes. Most were long, loose, and flowing: summer dresses, skirts and matching tops. I hadn't packed anything but a pair of jeans, two tee shirts, underwear, socks, and my robe. I pulled out a few dresses and held them up in front of me, looking at them in the full length mirror on the door. I put a floral sleeveless summer dress on the bed.
The dresser was empty except for one drawer of extra blankets. Between the two chairs was a small bookcase against the wall. There was a stack of back issues of "Yankee" and "Organic Gardening." And there were half a dozen or so paperbacks, "The Pearl," "The Story of O," "The Complete De Sade," "The Illustrated Kama Sutra." I opened a volume of de Sade. It didn't take long to find a description of sexual abandon. It struck me as gross, and I put it back.
My bath was ready.
After dinner, Jonathan said he'd do the dishes.
"How about a tour of the garden?" Linda asked.
It was late spring, and sunset wasn't for another half hour.
"The light is perfect, come on," Linda said. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. "Race you."
We ran out the front door, across the yard, and into the garden. Linda stopped next to me. She held my arm, catching her breath. "I've got to start jogging again."
For the fun, we both laughed.
I noticed Linda's stare. "I like it here," I said nervously.
Linda fussed over my hair, pushing in out of her face. "The dress looks nice on you. It's flattering."
"Thanks," I said. "I just thought, well, I didn't pack much, and you suggested--"
"You did it for me," Linda said. She kissed me. "Thank you. So," she started to guide me, "let me show you the garden."
For half an hour, until it got too dark to see, Linda gave me the tour. She showed me the herb garden, the flower garden, and the vegetable garden. She guided me around so that we found ourselves in a small gazebo, that over looked the ocean, several miles away. The sun extinguished itself in the cool dark water.
I sat on the bench, while Linda watched the last rays of light disappear. It started to cool off, and I started to shiver.
Linda sat down next to me. "Cold?"
"A little."
Linda put her arms around me and held me close to her. "Better?"
"Yes," I sighed. It felt wonderful to be held, warm and safe, by Linda.
I let my head fall back on Linda's shoulder. Linda breathed in through my hair. I was glad I had found the sandalwood perfume in basket under the soaps.
"Thank you for having me, this is great," I said.
"I hope you'll be a regular visitor," Linda whispered.
"Linda? Do you mean that? Really?"
Linda kissed my neck. "You shouldn't even have to ask."
"I've never had any friends."
"There's Samantha. There's me," Linda said.
"That's just it." I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"Nina, what's wrong."
I didn't say anything for a long time, and Linda didn't push. "I had friends when I was little. But I developed early, and the other children were mean. I learned to hide from them."
Linda brushed my cheek with her hand. "And you're still hiding."
"Yes. I think I'm even hiding from myself. . . . Can I tell you something?"
"You can trust me," Linda whispered. "What?"
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
"I think I'm gay." I clung to Linda's arm, expecting rejection.
"That's okay." Linda stroked my head.
"But--"
"It's okay, honest. . . . You don't have to answer, but why do you think that?"
I pulled away from Linda. "I can't."
Linda waited in the dark.
"It's Samantha," I confessed. "I think she likes me, and I do like her. . . . And now, you. I . . ." I leaned against the rail of the gazebo. "Do you hate me?"
Linda came over to me. She put her arms around me from the back. I started to sob.
"Nina? Honey? Listen to me. Whether you're gay or not is meaningless." She turned me around and hugged me. "Sex is too new to you for such things to have significance."
"But Samantha? And you?"
"Do you know why Sam brought you here?"
"No."
"Samantha is bisexual. She likes you, and she wants you. But she knows that she can't be the one to initiate you."
"What does that mean?"
"Do you like me?" Linda asked.
"Yes."
"Do you trust me?"
"I think so. Yes."
Linda lightly kissed my lips. "Then it's time for us to get back."
"But--"
"You get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow."
We walked back, arm in arm, in silence.
In bed, I read through several of the books. My feelings about Linda, Linda's hint of something more to come, and her easy acceptance of my confusion, made me look at the books a little differently--not as perverted. They described things that I had never imagined. And there were pictures of women and men . .

by
Charisse van der Lyn

I woke to the sounds of Vivaldi from the garden outside her window. I looked out. Linda was wearing a large floppy straw hat, and a lemon-yellow sun dress, as she pulled weeds. She had a portable tape recorder next to her. I opened the window. "Good morning," I called down to Linda.
Linda smiled up. "Breakfast is self-serve. There's coffee in the thermos on the counter. Jonathan went to work. Come, join me."
I picked a floral dress from the closet. It was a little big, but it looked nice on me. I ran down the stairs, got a cup of coffee and went out to join Linda.
"It's a beautiful day for gardening," I said. I was suddenly quite aware that I had fantasized about Linda, and I wondered if she could tell.
Linda patted the grass. "Sit next to me."
I felt embarrassed that I was wearing one of Linda's dresses. "I put this on--"
Linda twisted the brow of her hat to shield her eyes from the sun, and looked up at me. "It's beautiful on you. It makes you hair seem even darker."
"But the grass, I don't want to stain it."
"Don't worry about it."
I sat down. I carefully crossed my legs, trying not to touch Linda, but to be as close as possible to her.
"Sleep well?" Linda asked.
I blushed, knowing that Linda knew about the books. "Yes."
Linda touched my knee. "So tell me about yourself."
I shivered, then I pouted when Linda removed her hand, but I didn't know how to say anything.
"Well?"
I told her about growing up, the only child of a hard working single mother. My mother loved me, but was absorbed by her work as an advertising account executive. We weren't poor, but they lived in a small apartment. Once I was old enough to be left alone, my mother's work kept her away at least two nights a week. She had gotten pregnant just after college. The man disappeared, and my grandparents couldn't help. It was a struggle, and she held men, in general, to blame. There was nothing in her family life to counter her growing revulsion to men, her own body, and sex. "She and I never learned to talk."
"How is college?"
"It's difficult. But Samantha has been a good friend."
Linda looked up from her weeding. "She would be."
I blushed again. "Yes, and now . . . well I just don't know."
Linda took her gloves off. "Let's take a walk."
Linda leaned over to stand up. I found myself looking, intentionally, down Linda's dress at her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were small, with stubby pink nipples. I felt myself tingle.
"Well, come on." Linda offered me her hand. "We can put all this away later."
We walked arm in arm. I felt flushed by Linda's touch. I didn't want this moment to ever end.
I wanted more. "Let's go to where we talked last night." I hoped that Linda would put her arms around me again, and hold me, and breath sweetly on my neck.
The gazebo was a covered, octagonal, cedar deck, that looked down from the edge of Linda's property, an old, unused, dairy farm, across several miles of low hills, to the Pacific Ocean. There was a bench that ran almost all the way around it inside, and a trash can size cedar box. Linda opened the box, and removed several cushions. "Here," she said.
I took the cushion and placed on the bench, facing the ocean. Linda placed her cushion behind me. She sat down, putting her legs on either side of my hips and gently put her arms around me.
I gasped.
Linda put her face against my neck. "This is what you wanted?" She whispered.
I nodded.
"Are you still worried?" Linda asked.
"I don't know. Last night . . . what did you mean by initiation?"
"Most people are confused about sex, even people you think are normal. And for you, to be as old as you are, and a virgin--Sam told me--well it's harder, and more confusing."
"I looked at some of those books."
"I thought you might."
"And . . . I tried to figure out . . . I mean, am I a . . . lesbian?"
Linda kissed my neck, and she nibbled my ear lobe. "Are you?"
"Are you?" I asked back.
"No. Jonathan and I are happily married. And I dearly love having sex with men."
I hung her hands from Linda's arms, and nuzzled back against her shoulder. I felt dizzy. "What about me, here, now?"
"What about you?"
I turned around to face Linda. "Don't you care?"
Linda brushed my cheek. "Of course I do. That's why we're here."
"But you just said--"
"I said I'm not a lesbian, and I said that I love having sex with men. But I also love having sex with women," she paused and brushed some hair from my face, "especially a beautiful, young woman."
I stared into Linda's mysterious blue eyes. "Is that all I am, someone to . . . I don't know . . . to fuck?"
"Oh honey," Linda whispered, "no. Never doubt my feelings for you. The minute I saw you, I knew you were special. And if you'll have me, I want you in my life for ever."
I fought a wave of vertigo. "What does that mean?"
"It means that if you'll let me, I'll teach you about sex. So will Jonathan. And you'll visit us for as long as you want, as our friend, and as a lover."
"Jonathan?"
"Of course. You're not gay; you're a beautiful, unfulfilled woman, who needs to be loved and to love. Jonathan is the ideal man for your first heterosexual experience."
"I'm not sure. The pictures . . . my feelings . . . for Samantha . . . for you. It's--" embarrassed, she buried her head in Linda's shoulder. "It's women."
I looked up at Linda. "I'm sorry"
Linda smiled, "Sorry? For what? Feelings?"
I smiled back.
Linda put her hand on the back of my head, and pulled me to her mouth. Our lips touched. We breathed in each other's breath. Linda slowly opened her lips and touched her tongue to mine. I cautiously opened her mouth, letting Linda's tongue explore. Our tongues touched.
Nineteen years of denial ended in that instant. I kissed Linda in complete abandon.
After a few minutes, Linda broke from their embrace. "Slow down."
I looked dreamily at Linda. "I . . . want you."
"I know. But I have a rule, never rush."
"But don't you feel it? Don't you want me?"
Linda let herself laugh. "Want you? I could devour you. But slowly. Trust me. Let's go back."
I stared at her. "Go back? You don't want--"
"Come on." Linda pushed me. "I can't get up if you don't move."
I stood up, angry that I had let herself go so far, and I felt rejected. I stepped away from Linda.
"Honey, I'm not saying no to you. But this isn't the place nor the time."
I turned and looked down at Linda. Her yellow dress was bunched up around her stomach, and her bare legs straddled the bench. I stared involuntarily at Linda's crotch. Her yellow cotton bikini briefs were wet.
Linda let me look. "What did you think?" Linda said, startling me. "That I didn't want you?"
"Oh my God!" I hid her face in her hands. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to stare."
Linda pulled her dress down, stood up, and took my arm. "But you did mean to stare," she whispered. "I like showing off myself." She kissed my cheek. "Let's go back."
At the house, Linda collected her gardening supplies from the yard. "You go up and take a long, hot bath. It's almost noon. I'll see you around two."
I stood on the front steps. "Two?"
"Patience, my love. Patience."
I ran inside, and up to my room.
I drew a hot bath and emptied a packet of Vita Bath in it. While the tub filled, I searched the closet. My hands shook with excitement. I pulled out everything. One by one I eliminated each dress. Some were the wrong size, some were too fancy, and most weren't quite right. I was almost through, with nothing to wear, when I saw on a hook next to the door a simple, white, cotton gown. I held it up. It fit. It had long sleeves, and came down to my ankles. In the noon light, it was translucent. I put it on the bed and searched my bag for the right underwear, a pair of white satin panties with an overlay of lace on the front.
In front of the mirror, I pulled off my dress, and stared at myself in the mirror. I unhooked my bra. I put my hands on her breasts and molded them between my fingers. I decided to not wear a bra.
I sat in the tub and tried to imagine--having seen pictures of two women making love--what it would feel like. Could I do it? I cringed, remembering that I hadn't even been able to masturbate the night before. I closed her eyes, and tried to slow my racing heart by controlling my breathing.
I shaved her legs and underarms. I wondered if I should shave her pubic hair. I had seen several pictures of women shaved smooth like little girls, and the text made it sound as that was considered extremely sexy. I decided to not surprise Linda, but I could hint around about it and find out if that would please her.
I stood in front of the closet mirror watching myself dress. I told myself that if Linda liked me, maybe I wasn't a freak. I brushed her long hair, and wondered what Linda was doing.
At one forty-five there was a knock on the door. I wiped her damp palms on my towel, folded it, and opened the door. Linda was wearing a floor length, ivory colored, satin gown, the kind popular in the forties, it was loose and flowing from the waist down, but the bodice was fitted. I was speechless, faced with the commitment of letting Linda in.
Linda smiled at me, "May I come in?"
"I'm afraid. Maybe we could--"
"Shhhh." Linda put her finger to my lips. "At least, if you want to talk, let's do it in your room."
I nodded, and walked to the window. I loved the view, and took refuge in it. The sun sparkled off the distant ocean, and made the colors of the garden fluoresce.
Linda quietly stepped into the room, a few feet from me.
"I like your garden," I said nervously.
Linda moved behind me. She pressed into me, and put her hand on my shoulders.
I stiffened.
"Relax," Linda whispered in my ear. She rubbed my shoulders and neck. I relaxed. "I know you like my garden." She nibbled my ear lobe, and gently pressed her mound into my ass. "It's a nice garden."
I moaned.
Linda began to move her mound back and forth against my ass. She slid her hands down my arms, and wrapped them around my stomach.
"Men are good at pleasuring, if they are guided, but they take their pleasure too quickly," Linda whispered. "Women are good at pleasuring and they can learn to take pleasure slowly."
Linda rubbed my stomach in slow, small, circles that got larger, approaching her breasts and the top edge of her panties.
I started to move her hips and her back, trying to get Linda to touch me. "Mmmm," I sighed. But Linda carefully avoided giving me what I wanted.
I felt Linda's breasts pressed into my back, and thought that Linda's nipples were getting harder as she moved against them. And I felt Linda's mound pressed hard into me. I started breathing got heavy. My crotch tingled, as it had the night before when I looked at the books. Linda's hand stopped, her finger tips touching the elastic of my panties through her gown. Please! There! Touch me! I screamed in her mind. Linda's fingers were so close. My hips gyrated, trying to make Linda touch her.
"Oooo," Linda whispered, "is that what you want?"
"Oh, yes," I begged. "Please."
"What? What do you want?"
I put my hands on Linda's hand and slid it down, over my mound. "That."
But Linda didn't move her fingers. "But what do you want. Tell me."
I couldn't say it. I couldn't speak the words.
Linda moved her hand, grabbing my sex through my gown and panties. I gasped.
"What do you want?" Linda asked. "Tell me." She pulled me tighter against her.
I humped Linda's hand.
"Is that it? Tell me."
I knew what I wanted. I fought with myself to answer Linda. "More."
"More?" Linda bit my ear. "Tell me. You looked through those book. You saw pictures. You read descriptions " She licked my neck. "So tell me."
"I can't," I said.
"Could you strip and go, naked, downstairs to Jonathan? And wiggle your sweet pussy in front of him? He'd like that, you know. Would you be able to stand in front of him and put your hand on your cunt and play with yourself until you came? Could you watch him while he watched you? Could you stand in front of him, and spread your ass cheeks for him? Could you beg him to kiss it, to lick it? Would you let him play with it? Could you beg for his cock. And baby, let me tell you, his cock is beautiful. I love watching him getting a hard on: its long, and big around, with tight, hairy balls. Could you beg him to shoot his cum on you?"
Last night, I had seen pictures of a man's cock, being sucked, fucking, and being jacked off. I hadn't been interested. But now I wondered what it would be like to have something like that inside me--pushing in and out--and cumming.
"Easier than any of that, tell me what you want."
I felt my pussy get wet--wet on Linda's fingers.
She pulled her hand out of my crotch, and stepped back. I pouted, afraid that it was over.
Linda put her hands on her thighs and began to pull up her gown, slowly exposing her calves, her knees, and even slower up her firm thighs. When the hem was in her fingers, she let the sides fall, holding just the center, forming an inverted V, that pointed to her crotch. She raised it up, and then stopped when she knew she had exposed the first quarter inch of her red, lace panties. "Tell me," she whispered, "what do you want?"
I knew. I wanted to worship Linda's pussy. I wanted to be overpowered by Linda's sex. . . . and if I could, I wanted to make Linda loose control. It was so close, just out of reach, covered with thin, red lace.
Linda raised the hem of her gown. Her lace panties were cut low, barely concealing her bushy mound.
I felt my legs give out, and I fell to her knees. "Oh, please," I sighed, "I. . . " I stopped to catch her breath.
"Tell me," Linda whispered. She slid her free hand under the elastic of her panties, not to pleasure herself, but to show me.
I watched Linda's hand, the hand that had touched me, disappear behind the red lace. I watch it glide lower, between Linda's legs. Her wrist stretched the panties out, letting me see her brown curly pussy hair. Her fingers probed and wiggled.
I knelt closer, my head inches from Linda's hand and her pussy.
Linda smiled down at me. I watched as she pulled her hand out, letting the elastic of her panties snap back to hide her womanhood, and she offered her wet, glistening fingers to me.
"Taste me."
I looked up at Linda. It was like a gift. I took her hand and touched it to my cheek. I wanted the moment to last forever. I closed my eyes. I smelled Linda's musty liqueur, I wiped it on my cheek, I held it to my nose, and filled my lungs with it, and I licked it from Linda's fingers. I sucked them, getting every last molecule of Linda's essence.
Linda pulled her gown up, over her head, and tossed it on the bed.
When Linda's fingers were clean, when there was no more scent and no more taste, I looked up. "Oooh, God." I sighed seeing Linda stomach, her breasts, her excited nipples pointing invitingly, and her face, looking down at me.
"Tell me." Linda whispered.
I held Linda's fingers up. "I . . . want . . . more."
"More?"
I stuck her tongue out and licked the tips of Linda's fingers. "Please?"
"Could you strip for a dozen men and beat off for them? Would you enjoy having them jack off all over you? Could you let one man fuck you doggy style so that a room of men could jack off watching your tits bounce back and forth? Could you stand up at a party, pull your gown off, and stick a vibrator up your cunt? Could you take a man's hairy balls and roll them gently in your mouth? Could you suck his cock until he shoots his cum down your throat?"
"Please," I begged.
"Tell me?"
I let go of Linda's hand. I stared at Linda's mound. "I want your cunt. I want you to . . . fuck my mouth . . . I--"
"Tell me everything."
"I want to make you feel like I do now. I want to make you loose your self in me as I want to loose myself in you."
Linda moved to the edge of the bed. "Crawl to me."
I crawled on my knees to Linda. I stopped with my mouth so close to Linda's crotch that I could feel her heat. "Please."
Linda put her thumbs inside the elastic of her panties and slid them slowly away from her sex. She raise her right leg up and out of her panties. My nostrils flared at the sudden scent of Linda's cunt.
"Oooo, smell my sex."
Linda let her panties fall to the floor. I put my face into Linda's womanhood. How many woman had buried their faces in her sex, and lapped up her sweetness? How many men at begged to fuck her? How often had Linda shown herself to people, making them beg for more? The thought of Linda's experiences excited me.
I opened my mouth and let Linda's taste flood my tongue. I licked at Linda's moistness. I followed it, as it got stronger, further into Linda's crotch. My tongue felt for Linda's clit.
"Yes." Linda sighed when I touched it.
I had my wish. Linda's hand pulled my head tighter against her mound, and fell back on the bed. Her hips buck up and down, rubbing her cunt over my face.
"Fuck my face." I cried, "Fuck it."
Linda gave in to my mouth. She screamed in ecstasy, and clamped her legs around my head. "Yes! Yes!"
I felt Linda gush. I opened my eyes, looking up through her brown bush and over her smooth round stomach. Her tits jiggled back and forth, as her hips humped up and down.
I stuck her finger inside Linda's cunt. I pumped it in and out as I sucked on Linda's swollen clit. Linda bucked harder.
I ran my other hand down my tummy, and into my panties. My fingers knew what they wanted. They found my clit and rubbed.
"I'm cuming!" Linda sighed and she screamed.
She stopped bucking and clamped my head in a breathless hold.
And I came.
Linda released my head. "I think you'll be a favorite guest of our," she said.

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