Susan of course had not been present when Joyce received the letter advising her of that life changing gift, but she had heard the moment described from Kara’s point of view, via “Mrs. Higgins,” and could well imagine the emotional dam that had broken. What was happening now as the woman’s long intimacy-deprivation was just as decisively ended was not quite that profound, but was of a similar quality.
Susan’s fingers were busy as she surveyed this physical and emotional field, lightly stroking Joyce’s labia, slippery with the moisture of arousal. She added to that moisture by dipping a finger shallowly into the dripping vagina, scooping the oozing juice and spreading it over the rest of the woman’s sex.
Then she cast aside all other thoughts and focused on the happy task at hand. Which of course was to use her tongue and lips and fingers to drive Joyce to the most mind-blowing orgasm the woman had ever experienced. Susan went to work.
She began by drawing her tongue slowly from the very bottom, the perineum below Joyce’s vagina, to the very top, the clitty button already peaking out from its hood, waggling it from side-to-side as she went. A loud, melodious moan issued from the woman’s lips at this. “Worked once,” Susan thought . . .
She dropped back down and repeated the long lick, getting the same reaction. “OK, one more time.” This time Joyce met the caress with a slight hip thrust, communicating that she had received all that this particular play had to offer for the moment. “Right, then,” Susan thought, “No more fooling around.”
She focused then on the woman’s clit, stabbing at it lightly and rapidly with an un-stiff tongue. This brought on another one of those almost musical vocalizations from Joyce. Susan registered this, but she was concentrating on her task in earnest now.
Having ramped up the clitoris’s state of arousal, she knew it would now accept more rigorous treatment, which she applied by slavering the top of her tongue up-and-down across the ultra-sensitive bud. At the same time she repeatedly poked one finger into Joyce’s vagina, teasingly shallow at first, but penetrating a little deeper with each inward thrust.
When half the length of her index finger was disappearing at each plunge she added a second digit, but did not go deeper until it became fully wet and lubricated. Her tempo slowed as she pushed the fingers deeper, so that by the time they had sunk to their both were sliding in-and-out at the steady pace of an athlete’s rested pulse. She would gradually increase this tempo to match Joyce’s anything-but-rested pulse – but that was yet to come.
Susan poured on the clitoral stimulation, except for intermittent excursions to the other parts of Joyce’s sex, so as to give the sexual epicenter brief respites: She sucked and lightly nibbled on the woman’s full labia, for instance, or waggled them sideways with her tongue.
Each time Susan returned to the clit after one of these side trips her attack was a little more forceful, ramping up the intensity as Joyce’s arousal increased. Now she sucked the delicate nubbin and the flesh surrounding it rapidly in-and-out of her mouth, sliding it deliberately over inner surfaces of her pursed lips with each pass.
Joyce had been the passive recipient of the sensual kissing and touching, but she was anything but passive now. Those melodious moans had become a full throated aria, interjected by sibilant gasps and plaintive whimpers.
Her body was writhing. She would curl forward at one moment, taking Susan’s head between her hands and pulling it more tightly against her sex, and then throw herself back almost violently, back arching, when some combination of actions to her clit and tunnel generated a sympathetic vibration that set her entire being thrumming. As Susan upped the pace of her cunnilingual stimulation, this cycle of writhing accelerated apace.
Joyce was getting close, and the accomplished lesbian between her legs had no intention of making her wait. One of the well-practiced proficiencies that Susan demonstrated without its beneficiary’s conscious awareness was the ability to simultaneously work her fingers and her mouth with equal virtuosity.
This meant that as she licked and tongued, those two digits plunging steadily in-and-out of Joyce’s vagina not only didn’t stop, they performed slight variations on the theme, which prevented the tunnel from becoming desensitized to the stimulation, or irritated by it.
Susan would curl her fingers in slightly different ways, or rock them across each other from side to side on alternate strokes, or pause a quarter-measure at their full depth, then give a firm little thrust even deeper, spreading the vaginal opening wide as her full hand tried to penetrate where no space existed.
And all the time the tempo of these attentions increased imperceptibly, but in perfect time with Joyce’s state of arousal. One who is musically inclined would describe this as advancing from lento or “slow” at the beginning, to andante or a “walking beat” somewhat further on. The tempo now approached allegro or “fast” as the crescendo of the movement drew near.
Joyce’s thrashing on the bed rose to such intensity that Susan feared she might pull a muscle or something – but the risk was worth the reward! The “aria” had risen through mezzo piano or “medium soft” to mezzo forte or “medium loud” and now approached fortissimo or “very loud.” The conductor of this opera determined that the moment to bring the production to its tumultuous conclusion had arrived.
Joyce was right on the precipice, and Susan knew it would take only the slightest extra push to drive her over. She provided this by simultaneously sucking the woman’s clit and surrounding flesh into her mouth, rapidly swiping the soft bottom-side of her tongue from side-to-side across the screaming organ, and shaking her head almost violently from side to side.
At just the right moment, for just a few strokes, Susan also increased the pace of the fingers driving into Joyce’s tunnel to a prestissimo tempo, or “very, very fast.”
And that was it – the musicality left Joyce’s voice, and she all but screamed as the first waves of a mind-numbingly intense orgasm crashed outwards from clitoris and vagina to pound through her entire body. The purposeful nature of her thrashing ended, and instead her body shook spasmodically, like an inert object rocked by a series of powerful tremors coming from a source deep within. Her scream fell off to a sustained, open-mouthed groan of release, back at the forte or “loud” level.
As soon as the first explosive waves passed Susan dramatically slowed the tempo of her plunging fingers – but did not stop sliding them deep into the woman’s vagina as the storm proceeded. She backed off the intensity of clitoral stimulation to a similar degree, prepared to stop it altogether when Joyce reached that point where further contact became excruciating rather than pleasurable.
Susan kept waiting for the orgasm to run its course. While diminishing greatly in their intensity, minor spasms continued to rock the woman’s frame. But then, rather than coming to that point where she might be expected to pull away from the contact, Joyce began ramping up again!
“Ah, one of those! Not surprising given the long drought . . .” Susan thought. So rather than stopping it she very gradually upped the intensity of her clitoral stimulation as she sensed the delicate bud’s ability to accept more.
In contrast she actually slowed the finger thrusts almost to a stop – Susan knew, from rare but happy experience, that this next orgasm would be all about clit. She had to walk a fine line in the level of stimulation, because the throbbing nubbin was now fully exposed, and at its maximum sensitivity.
In just a few minutes Joyce again walked along the edge of that chasm of bliss. Susan did not try to push this time. Instead she just gave a steady but generous amount of stimulation, using the same underside-of-tongue-side-to-side action on the inflamed clit, but softly and without the suction and head shaking. Joyce was in control now, and Susan let her relish it.
The mature woman “walked along” the edge of that cliff for full minute, balancing precariously, before releasing all self restraint and letting herself fall over.
This second orgasm was much less intense, but possibly more pleasurable because of that. Joyce was in control, and thus able to savor each wave of pleasure and it washed away her sexual tension.
And then – it was over. Joyce fell back on the bed, all but insensible. Susan stayed where she was for the time being, letting her head drop, breathing deep the aroma of satisfied female lust, and the relishing the contentment of having been the cause of that swoon.
Chapter 9 – Joyce pays tribute
This tableau held for several minutes, and then Susan remembered the third player in the drama. “Kara!” her mind erupted. Susan looked up, and sure enough girl sat cross legged on the bed, looking down at her mother with a worried, frightened expression on her pretty young face. Susan rapidly uncoiled from her prone position and clambered up to put an arm around the trembling teen.
“It’s alright, sweetie,” she whispered. “In fact it’s more than all right – it’s wonderful. Don’t be frightened, you’ll see.” Susan didn’t try to explain further right now. She just squeezed Kara close, and stroked her hair for a moment. Then she held her finger to pursed lips in a “shhhh” sign, and taking the girl by the hand, carefully climbed off the bed.
Susan walked around to where the sheet had fallen, and drew the fabric over Joyce’s recumbent frame. She fluffed up a pillow, lifted Joyce’s head, and placed it beneath. Kara’s mom slid into a fetal position, and Susan leaned over to tenderly tuck the sheet around her, as she would a drowsy child dropping off to sleep. She gave a soft kiss to the woman’s cheek and stroked back her hair.
Susan padded back to where Kara was still standing, took the naked girl by the hand, and quietly led her out of the hut. She said nothing, but just kept walking with her young lover down the path to the beach.
When they reached the water’s edge Susan stopped, and folded the frightened teen in her arms, hugging her close. Kara returned the hug, squeezing the young woman tightly, while Susan stroked her hair. Finally Kara collected herself enough to speak:
“Is she alright, Susan? I wanted my mom to have pleasure, but I didn’t expect it to be like that.” By which she meant the soaringly intense passion, which had been frightening to one so young and relatively inexperienced.
“She’s more than alright, sweetie. She’s wonderful, but momentarily overwhelmed.” Susan paused, and collected her thoughts. Then said, “Do you remember the day your mom got that letter containing her gift? She realized that a deep, dark valley of struggle and pain was behind her, and her life suddenly had come upon a broad, sunlit upland.”
“I’ll never forget it Susan – it was the happiest day of my life,” Kara answered.
“Tell me Kara, did your mom laugh and say ‘Yippee’ when she got that letter?”
“You must know, Susan – I told ‘Mrs. Higgins’ and she must have told you. No, when I came in my mom had already read the letter, and she was weeping bitterly. I was scared to death – I thought something terrible had happened.”
“But it hadn’t, had it sweetie?”
“Of course not – is was the most wonderful thing in the world – Oh!” The lightbulb clicked in Kara’s head. “You mean, what just happened was also incredibly wonderful – too wonderful, almost, all at once, like.”
“Bright girl, Kara,” Susan said gently. Both were quiet for a minute, thinking about what it must be like for Joy. But the next words Susan spoke deliberately had a much lighter tone:
“Kara – You’re a ‘horny chick who likes to fuck,’ aren’t you?” Susan deliberately used the lewd terminology to shake the mood into one more appropriate for the happy event. Kara was startled for a second by the words and the change of pace, but then smiled brightly.
“Likes to fuck you, Susan. I’m a horny chick who likes to fuck you.”
Susan smiled back. “And I like to fuck you too, dear.” Kara giggled, and the naked lovers entered a brief hug, cheek to cheek. Susan gave the girl a quick peck on the lips.
“Well, your mom’s a ‘horny chick who likes to fuck’ also – except her life’s challenges and toil have been so great that it’s been a long, long time since she’s been able to. Your mom has been starving for intimacy – and today she got a massive feast. It’s wonderful Kara, like you said, almost too wonderful all at once.”
Kara fully got it now. “Oh, thank you, Susan,” she cried out explosively. She leaped into the other’s arms and unleashed a barrage of kisses onto her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Each pair of words was separated by kisses. Susan laughed. She understood – Kara was thanking her not for the explanation, but for breaking her mother’s famine with the incredible sexual feast she had just provided.
“Oh, you are so welcome sweetie, and your mother is so welcome,” Susan answered happily. “Believe me – the pleasure was mine equally.” Which was almost true. True in the sense that, like the material, financial gifts she gave to Joyce and her daughter, the “giving” gave Susan pleasure. Buy – it did not change her life. For the recipients of such gifts, well . . . Sunlit uplands indeed.
Susan and Kara swam then, and went for a walk on the beach, holding hands, not saying much, just sharing their happiness. The sun was getting low before they headed up the path to the luxury grass shack on the beach. Both were famished – all they had eaten all day was a bagel for Susan and two bowls of sugar-coated sweetness bombs for Kara.
Entering the structure they were greeted by the smell of savory chicken stew simmering in a pot on the stovetop, and biscuits baking in the oven. Joyce was wearing a pareia, and was bustling around the kitchen. “Hi, sweetie! Hi, Susan!” she called out brightly. They returned the greeting happily. Both were relieved to see that Joyce had recovered so completely.
Of course Susan realized that the chipper “Suzie Homemaker” routine was partially an act for Kara’s benefit, and also partially Joyce’s own way of coping with what had happened.
And that was fine, because she knew that what had happened was part of Joyce’s journey onto those “sunlit uplands.” The transition from the fetid valley of struggle was no doubt disorienting, and dazzling, so whatever helped her through it was all to the good.
Besides – the food smelled great. Susan’s stomach growled and her mouth started to water as soon as she and Kara came through the door.
“Why don’t you two shower quick, and then we’ll have a glass of wine before we eat – this is going to be at least 20 more minutes.” Susan saw an open bottle on the table – Joyce had got a head start.
“Ah, a more conventional ‘coping mechanism’,” she thought, glad that the woman had the “coping process” well in hand. She said nothing, though, just assented with a wave and a smile, and drew Kara back out the door to the outside showers.
Not knowing whether Joyce was still abed they had not wanted to make any noise by using the facilities at first. Now they quickly did so and put on their own pareias before rejoining the mother.
Kara of course donned hers in the traditional manner, tiny breasts exposed. She placed a flower in her hair to complete the ensemble. Susan decided to join the girl in the fashion, even though doing so was on the borderline of tastefulness, given the much larger size of her own breasts. She also put a flower in her hair.
Joyce laughed good-naturedly when she saw them. “Um, it’s chicken stew and biscuits, girls – not the roast suckling pig and poi of a luau – but you look charming, anyway.” Susan also chuckled, getting the joke.
“I’m afraid the fashion doesn’t suit me nearly as well as Kara,” she said, pointing to her bosom in a gesture that suggested droopiness.
Joyce regarded the perfect breasts with frank admiration, and said with just a trace of humor in her voice, “Oh, I think it suits you just fine, Susan. More than fine – the natives at the luau would get very restless at how gorgeous you look.” Notwithstanding the levity of words, the tone made clear that she meant the compliment sincerely.
Susan actually blushed. “Thank you, Joyce. And thank you for making dinner! My knees are weak I’m so hungry.”
Joyce poured a glass of wine for each of the others, and lifted her own in a silent toast. She looked Susan right in the eyes as she did so, and held the gaze until the young woman lifted her own glass.
Joyce dipped her head for just an instant, and her eyes. She raised both again quickly, and returned that steady gaze to Susan, while inclining her glass just a millimeter in the other’s direction. The gesture was an acknowledgment of all that Susan had done for her, a “thank you,” and a “salute” of respect all wrapped in one. It was heartbreaking in its eloquence.
Susan felt a tear well in her eye, and tilted her own glass in acceptance.
They all sipped the refreshing beverage. Kara sensed that some important communication had passed between her mother and their mutual lover. She did not quite understand its content, but knew it was good. The three women stood in companionable silence for a time, sipping the excellent wine.
Joyce turned back to the stove. “OK, we’re ready,” she said. “Susan, I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen like this. I assume you like everything in your own freezer, and hope you like biscuits – I found the mix in the cabinet.”
“Gosh, Joyce, you can take over my kitchen anytime! I can’t believe how good it all smells.” Joyce removed the biscuits from the oven and placed them on a plate. She handed this to Kara and lifted the pot of hot stew, setting it on a trivet that was already in place on the table. As were dishes and silverware. They sat and ate heartily.
After dinner Susan announced that she had a documentary video about the island chain’s coral reefs. The others agreed this sounded like a wonderful idea. “And fish are all that’s on this tape,” Susan said, signaling that there would be no “monkey business” of kissing videos this time. They watched the hour-long reef tape, grateful for the highly relevant educational aspects, and grateful for relief from the tension generated in the last two days by the various sexual cross-currents.
Then Susan once again helped convert the couches into comfortable bedsteads, climbed into her own bed, and slept the sleep of the just. Just before dropping off she remembered that the sexual tension was not completely gone – there was that little detail about Kara wanting to have incestuous lesbian sex with her mother. But she thought that at last she might have a solution for that “little problem” as well.
Part Three – Taboo!
Chapter 10 – “I’m going to fuck your daughter now . . .”
It was dawn. Susan was awakened by Kara climbing into her bed. The day before she had turned the girl away because it was “rude” to have sex in basically the same room as the girl’s sleeping mother. Who with that sixth sense of a parent would certainly not be sleeping, but listening.
Things had changed, though. Kara was Susan’s lesbian lover – and now so was her mother Joyce. Plus – Susan had not been unaffected by the erotic experience of the previous day – an experience that for herself had been all giving and no receiving.
Nor had Kara been unaffected, notwithstanding the fright she took witnessing an intimidating excess of passion. But that did not change the fact that Kara was a “horny-chick-who-likes-to-fuck,” as demonstrated by the girl’s shameless masturbating during the earlier, un-scary parts of the experience. Susan thought back on those events as the naked teen snuggled her sexy little body in against that of another “horny chick who likes to fuck”: Herself.