Reluctant Players

Jemima was looking at her, aware to some extent of the wondering that must be going on. Trying to think of a wet, slimy, alien cunt with distaste or revulsion, she could not, not when she pictured it with the charm and laughter of her new friend, nor with the warm, pale-skinned flesh she liked to kiss. She was guessing Carlotta was willing to experiment.

So their uncertainty made them stilted as they stood by the kettle waiting for it to boil, as Jemima walked across and examined the books, as Carlotta turned on the light in the bedroom, drew the curtains there, and took in two cups of tea. There was a photograph of Lee with a good view of the bed: while they drank they discussed weddings and children and quarrels, but when they were finished and ready Carlotta turned the picture away.

"Just us," Carlotta said, and took Jemima's head with her outstretched hand, drawing it towards her, until their mouths met, hot with the glow of tea. This was not the gesture of the play, where the older woman was the initiator. No-one in the audience would see their tongues pushing deep within each other as they did now, rubbing roughly on each other, filling each other with frustrated desire to enclose deeper.

With a practised hand Jemima undid the buttons of the blouse and pulled it off Carlotta's shoulders. It fell to the bed, with a shrug that was like a shiver. Jemima dropped wet kisses over chin, throat, shoulder, chest, and what she had been calling breast, low on the chest above the bra: but when for the first time she fumbled with the bra strap behind her friend and pulled that away, she saw what a vast expanse there was to kiss and make love to when all from the head to the waist was bare for her delight.

Carlotta's breasts were fairly small and very round, unblemished and pale, with wide pink nipples. Faint blue veins coursed over her body, adding fragility to her quivering and shining skin.

Her intention had been to drop little kisses down towards the nipple, but Jemima saw that perfectly moulded softness and knew the only tribute she could pay was to take it into her mouth. It was far more pleasant to do than she had imagined, and they remained fast together like that far longer than the script ordained as realistic; Carlotta's one arm held her, and the other propped her on the bedclothes.

Jemima only withdrew when she began to hear the moans rising in intensity and breaking up for what they were. Dazed, pulling up out of an ocean of sensory concentration, she moved away a little and looked into Carlotta's beautifully wet, serious eyes.

There were questions in them but no answers, so after a moment she bowed her head to her sweet friend's belly and gave her gentle swishing licks and nuzzled kisses over the midriff, taut with anticipation, and on the underside of her breasts, and on what of her thighs was exposed, drawn in like intaken breath to make her bones jut and her moist dark interior seem almost visible down through the cloth.

Not a word had been spoken since they began. Jemima felt her part Marie quicken in her, and wanted to linger here and pick out every tone and note of wet belly, to learn her lover's breasts, and arms, and back, before diving into the exotic gulf below. Even were she in earnest and as bold as the script would have her, the transition was impossibly short. Yet even her playwright would not stand for the twenty minutes or ten thousand years required to adore this miraculously smooth, rosy woman, Carlotta, her inviting Carlotta.

The script at this point called for some words which rang hollow and foolish compared to the momentous discovery they both knew was in store. But perhaps if you had only stumbled across this kind of love instead of preparing for weeks beforehand, those are the words you would use. Awkwardly, as in real life and time it would be awkward, not rehearsed, Marie undid Anna's skirt, pulled it away and dropped it to one side, let Anna fall gently to the bed again, and felt herself wither under Anna's shocked, hurt, consenting look.

"You can leave if you want to. I've gone too far," said Marie.

"No," said Anna and Carlotta.

Not a word was to be spoken apart from that. Marie quickly undressed, letting her clothes fall where they lay, to expose her vulnerability, to give up some dominance. For a second Anna and Carlotta saw a nude woman in a way she had never seen before. Marie dropped to her knees and drew away the girl's thin, damp pants, holding them crushed in her hand for a little to infuse the smell. Together they parted her legs and came closer, to approach their last scripted action before the telephone was to interrupt them. It was only supposed to last less than a minute. For Carlotta and Jemima, time stopped.

At first she saw the thickness of hips, an untidy dark swatch of hair, and a slit. But when those legs parted and she approached with her face ready to explore, that slit opened up into convolutions red, brown, and pink. Carlotta's thighs were already glistening, and her vulva clouded over with the waters of excitement even as Jemima watched, entranced. There was a single mole to one side of Carlotta's anus. Jemima touched that with her finger.

She was close enough now to lick any part she desired, but she wanted to get used to this extraordinary aroma: both like her own, yet very unlike. With her nose she traced the network of tiny pocks and pores of her innermost thighs, now touching the skin, now gliding above it. Her cheeks rested on the softest skin imaginable, her eyelashes tangled momentarily with the thin dark fuzz around the labia.

Carlotta called out softly, "Jemima", softly like the wind. If she had meant that as stop, she would not have overflowed with juices, pooling on her perineum, and falling into the tiny valley of her anus.

Here Jemima's tongue touched her first, drinking up those delicious rich outpourings and feeling her way onto that shadowy, deep-pink curve. She rested a moment there before bringing her tongue up and into the pliant slickness guarding the vagina. Her tongue, her lips, her whole face she pushed inward, questing around, feeling her nose and cheeks suffused with liquid more intoxicating than any she had ever known.

Carlotta began to come and heave while Jemima was still thrusting into her like that, on feeling and hearing which Jemima moved one hand up from the girl's silky buttocks and glided it across her clitoris. Guided by her disordered gasps of "yes, oh yes", she found a rhythm and began exerting a little pressure on the clitoris. She was overwhelmed by the rich blood-infused pinkness of her surroundings, of the continual seeping up of fluid for her to taste, of how intensely sweet and natural it was to be here taking her beautiful young and talented friend to such pleasures.

Carlotta came with low cries and moans, and heaving of her loins, and her tensed thighs fell apart to give Jemima room to breathe. Jemima continued to lick in tiny sweeps all across the less delicate parts of this fascinating new scene. She kept returning to Carlotta's anus, half aghast at herself for the thrill it gave her to be probing it.

At length Carlotta ceased her irregular breathing with one last gusty sigh of contentment, and hooked her lover's shoulders to draw her up. Jemima climbed up the bed and they looked at each other face to face.

"I want to do that to you."

"That's not in the...," Jemima began, her words crushed as Carlotta came to her and kissed her, kissed her slick love-daubed face, probed with her tongue into her lover's mouth, as she would soon into all her other precious places.