Shane and Carmen: The Novelization Ch. 14

Show time!

"Shane! Your dessert's ready!" she called out.

"Coming," Shane called, still oblivious. She stood, watched the scene on TV for another few seconds, then set the TV remote down, assuming she'd be right back with her dessert, whatever it was. She walked into the kitchen. No Carmen, no dessert.

"Hey, where are you?" she called out.

"In my room," Carmen called. "C'mon, hurry up, before it cools off!"

Shane knew something was up. Grinning, she walked down the hall, sniffing the aroma of something baked with cinnamon. And then she stood in the doorway of Carmen's candlelit bedroom. She grinned and shook her head.

"You know you're insane, don't you?" she said, laughing. "Something smells like cinnamon, and ... peaches."

Carmen pretended to pout. "Don't you like it? I made it just for you. It's your favorite, Peach Cobbler a la mode."

"I, uh, I see that," Shane said, still laughing. "But where are the pea-- oh, no, don't tell me."

"Uh-huh," Carmen said, keeping a straight face. "They're still in the oven. You're going to have to take them out for me, since I can't move because of the a la mode."

Shane was still laughing, but she began unbuttoning her shirt. "I guess I should dress appropriately for this, right? I don't want to get any on my clothes."

"I think naked would probably be best," Carmen agreed, "but wear whatever you want. I just want you to be comfortable. As long as you don't have any clothes on."

"Yeah, I bet," Shane said, removing her pants and skinning herself out of her American Eagles. She stood naked, looking at the vision on the bed. "Jeez, I don't know where to start. Should I get the peaches out of the oven?"

"No," Carmen said. "I think they need another couple of minutes. I think you should start with the crunchy topping." She pointed to her nipples.

Shane carefully climbed onto the bed, straddling Carmen and walking herself up so she could lean over and kiss her.

"God, I love you," Shane whispered, leaning down and kissing Carmen's mouth gently.

"I love you, too, baby," Carmen whispered back. They kissed again, and once again. "Aren't you gonna eat your dessert?" Carmen asked. "I slaved all day in the hot, sweltering kitchen making it just for you."

"I can tell," Shane said. "You're a regular Betty Fucking Crocker and Marie Fucking Callender."

Carmen laughed, her breasts jiggling as Shane leaned down and began to lick off the sugar and cinnamon. "I wonder if Betty Crocker would fuck Marie Callender," Carmen mused, looking up at the ceiling but savoring the feeling of Shane's wet tongue lapping up her toppings. "Do you think they were dykes like us?"

"God, I hope so," Shane murmured, her voice muffled between Carmen's breasts and her senses overwhelmed with the scent of vanilla covering Carmen's sternum. Shane was in heaven. There was no other way to put it. Carmen's nipples, as erect as tombstones, were still sticky but now mostly sugar-free. Not that Shane stopped licking and kissing and suckling them. But suddenly Shane jumped back with a squeal.

"What's the matter?" Carmen asked.

"Nothing," Shane said. "I just leaned down too far and touched the ice cream. It's cold!"

Carmen started laughing, the bed rocking up and down, her breasts jiggling again as her tummy rocked. "You better get down there, then, and lick it up before it's all melted."

Shane sat back, straddling Carmen's thighs, and gently prodded a finger in Carmen's tummy, watching the melted cream dribble down out of its crater and into Carmen's triangular bush. She hunched further backward and bent down, licking at the bottom of the bush and working her way up, lapping up the melted ice cream as she went. She could have done it faster and more efficiently, but she took her time, teasing Carmen's belly, luxuriating in the peach smell, the hints of vanilla, the rapidly warming liquid Haagen Daz, and most of all the hot expanse of skitterish skin trembling under its gentle tongue-lashing.

Shane adjusted her position, climbing between Carmen's legs, which she spread wide and up in the air. She dropped down to lie on her stomach, and lowered her mouth to Carmen's cinnamon-colored pussy lips that she loved to kiss, lick and suck so much. "Oh, Christ!" escaped from Carmen's mouth, involuntarily, not a prayer but a thanksgiving. She was so close, so close, and knew it would take almost nothing to induce an orgasm so strong it would rattle the doors and windows. "I ... I ... "

"I know," Shane whispered, gently pulling Carmen's pussy lips apart and lowering her mouth, gently sucking, and in a moment the first slice of peach came sluicing out and into her mouth. Carmen bit down on her hand to keep from screaming. Shane kept her face pressed to Carmen's pussy so Carmen could feel Shane chewing. Shane swallowed the peach slice and then dropped her mouth entirely onto Carmen's clit. Carmen's entire pussy and thighs, and Shane's chin, lips, cheeks, nose, neck and shoulders were all drenched with saliva, melted ice cream and Carmen's fluids.

Shane sipped Carmen's para-urethral fluid and found it to be light and full-bodied with notes of peach, vanilla, and cinnamon, with a pleasant, full-bodied nose and a long finish. When Shane's mouth gently sucked her clit and probed at the small pearl at its core, it was all over. Carmen screamed, arched her back and threw her hips up into the air, Shane expecting it and following, feeling Carmen gush her orgasm and ejaculating a spray and two peach slices into Shane's waiting mouth.

Carmen jacked her hips, twitched, spasmed, thrust. She had no idea how long her orgasm lasted. Two minutes? Maybe three? Time had lost its meaning. She was hardly even conscious, lost in some sort of orgasmic swirl inside her head where there was nothing but pulsing waves of pleasure. She could hardly even feel her own body, just knew somehow this was one of the most incredible orgasms the world had ever known. She had even felt herself ejaculating, knew she was lathering Shane with her own petite geyser of cum juice.

Shane, too, had never experienced anything quite like it, and had ridden out the orgasm by clutching Carmen's hips and keeping her mouth firmly sucking on Carmen's clit hood. She let the hood slip away and as Carmen began to come back down she licked the pussy lips, keeping Carmen's muffin warmed up but staying away from the parts that were too sensitive to be touched. She let Carmen's left leg slip down to the bed, and when it did Shane rested her cheek upon it, dreamily watching the rise and fall of Carmen's belly as her breathing slowed down.

"How many ... how many slices ... did you get?" Carmen gasped out.

"Three," Shane said.

"Damn. There's one ... still in there ... you're, you're ... going to have to ... ohhhhhhhhhh!" she groaned as Shane's mouth closed the gap, sucking in Carmen's pussy lips and trying with her tongue and two fingers to retrieve the lost peach slice. But it was slippery in there, everything was coated with a pleasant syrupy liquid, and Shane couldn't find it. The more she probed and prodded, though, the closer Carmen got to a second coming.

"I can't ... I can't ... " Shane murmured in frustration.

"Wait, let me ... " Carmen pleaded, getting up and turning to straddle Shane's mouth from the top, and sure enough, as Shane's mouth began to gently suck, the missing cling unclung, slipped through Carmen's pussy lips and into Shane's mouth as Carmen clenched, quivered, came, gushed, flooded, screamed, rocked, arched her back and gave Shane's nose a case of carpet burn. It was a cum so good Carmen started to cry, dropping down onto the bed a huddled mess, crying and laughing. Shane, still trapped between Carmen's thighs, struggled to find some air before she suffocated. She finally had to wiggle southward, gasping as her mouth came from between Carmen's thigh, sucking in drafts of oxygen as Carmen shook and whimpered above her.

"Are you okay?" she finally had to ask, and heard Carmen whisper, "Yes, yes, oh God, you have no idea."

Some people might be aggrieved at giving two kick-ass, world-class orgasms and not receiving so much as one sloppy wet kiss in return, but Shane was also a generous, giving soul in the way that only someone who grew up poor and with nothing can be. Anyway, she knew that before the night was over Carmen was likely going to rock her world, and the only question would be how many buildings were still left standing after the earthquakes when daylight came. She held Carmen for ten minutes while she recovered, and then weakly Carmen sat up.

"It's your turn now. Stay here while I get the ice cream."

She returned in a minute with a fresh, cold golf ball of Haagen Daz in the small dish, and proceeded to daub peach juice onto Shane's perfect hard nipples and then coating them with the brown sugar/cinnamon crunch. Carmen laid Shane down on the bed on a fresh, clean pair of towels -- Carmen was going to have to do a couple loads of laundry in the morning, she could see -- and spooned the four remaining slices of peaches into Shane's long-patient pussy. Shane moaned, laughing, when Carmen deposited the ball of ice cream into her navel, and then the last of the sprinkled crunch.

Then, in an amazing feat of cunnilingual skill, stamina and superb physical conditioning, Carmen gave Shane four orgasms, one for each slice of peach as it passed through her pussy portal. The first was accomplished with Shane on her back, Carmen on her belly between her legs. It took over half an hour, for Carmen was in no hurry. The second came faster, with Shane mostly on her back, but turned around, and with her hips lifted up and Carmen's arms around her waist, holding her up nearly upside down with her face buried in Shane's pussy, extracting the second slice. When it was over, Carmen reclined backward, bringing Shane along with her until they were in a sixty-nine position, Shane already too exhausted to do anything but go along for the ride, straddling Carmen's talented tongue.

These last two orgasms were augmented by Carmen's middle finger, which gently and slowly probed Shane's rosebud. Carmen had built a very special relationship with the little butternut-colored starfish between Shane's cheeks, the skittish, shy, once-traumatized pucker that almost never allowed anyone else to come near it. But Shane's cute, taut little twinky had learned to love and trust Auntie Carmen like a child welcomes a favorite aunt who smells of lavender and bestows hugs and dry kisses and a golden Sacajawea dollar coin on your birthday. Ever since that first glorious afternoon when it had been Elmer Fudded in the shower, Shane's pucker had behaved like a frisky puppy whenever it saw Carmen coming; it would have fetched Carmen's slippers and the evening newspaper if Carmen had asked it to. It was like the very best starfish in starfish school, the teacher's pet who, when Miss Carmen asked for a volunteer, would wave its starfishy arm in the air, call on me, oh, oh, please, Miss Carmen, call on me, and of course Miss Carmen always did, for Miss Carmen loved this one starfish best of all bottom-dwelling benthic life forms. It winked and twitched and blushed a furious dark red as it let Miss Carmen pet it, stroke it, kiss it, wet it, lube it, and it never accidentally farted in her presence. Chrysallis-like, it morphed from a closed starfish to an open sea anemone where no one would ever find Nemo. It had meekly let Miss Carmen insert a rectal thermometer when they played Flu Patient and the Naughty Nurse, and it quivered with joy when Carmen introduced it to their very special vibrator, the small, narrow, blue one specially designed for shy, modest starfish and sea anemones like Shane's bashful back door.

Carmen was no anal fetishist; she simply enjoyed full use of all the love apertures that Nature offered, as any sensual, uninhibited and open-minded lesbian would. Perhaps it was simply one of the gifts of knowledge that Ixchel had bestowed upon her: There were two holes at the bottom of every female torso, not just the one. Some people said the first one was an entrance, only, and the other one was an exit, only. But Carmen knew that just wasn't true; things came out of the entrance hole all the time: pee, menstrual fluid and babies, for instance. So there was no good reason why things couldn't go into the exit (thermometers, suppositories and camera-bearing colonoscopy probes were fine, so why not fingers, vibrators and strap-ons?). Sometimes it was just plain fun to run up the down staircase.

Be that as it may, Carmen had established a special bond of trust with Shane's anus the way a young teenage girl establishes a special bond with a skittish, high-spirited thoroughbred horse that would tolerate no other rider, but who would allow only this one girl to tame her to service. If a woman like Shane happened to have two wonderful openings straddling her perineum, then it was not much different than a woman having an eye on each side of her nose. In this case, one eye was just a little browner than the other. Both were pink inside, but free of conjunctivitis. Carmen had always sensed Shane's sensitivity back there, without knowing that her rosebud had once been violated and abused, terrorized and torn. But Carmen was a healer, and instinctively she knew how to bring closure to Shane's once-wounded opening. Thanks to Ixchel's mentoring, Carmen was the Ass Whisperer,

On this special night, if Miss Carmen wanted to baste and marinate the taut little starfish with peach juice, well, that was certainly something new and different and sticky, the other kind of tacky, and it clenched with anticipation for the tonguing that would surely follow. It not only wasn't disappointed during the third orgasm, it even received a gentle encore finger-fucking a few minutes later as Shane lurched into her heroic fourth and final spine-wilting, peach-ejaculating climax of the night.

Afterward, like Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed after a 15-round title bout, Carmen and Shane dragged themselves naked and arm-in-arm down the hall to the bathroom, where they douched each other in the shower, too tired to do it any other way. Carmen had had the foresight to understand that there was such a thing as too much peach, and so she'd bought a mountain-stream-flavored douche for them both. Minty clean and sanitary inside and out once more, they dried each other off with minimal attention, and fell asleep in each other's arms on Shane's dry bed, at midnight, moist and exhausted.