A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 11

“What?”

“He’d say, ‘Absolutely. What ever you want Annie.’ He loves and worships you.”

Again she kissed me like a sister. “But right now Annie, I really think you NEED to go out with ME tonight. You have a whole fucking lifetime to be boring. Tonight, you need to have some fun. And Charlie wants that for you. And I know you better than you think; you want it too.”

I looked away from Amy, and I felt lightheaded. I looked at Charlie’s pants, and I realized that I thought of them as Charlie’s pants and that this thing was going to happen. And if it was going to happen, then Amy was right – we might as well have some fun.

“He’ll wear them, then” I said slyly. I looked back at Amy. “He’ll wear them because I want him to wear them.”

Amy squealed in delight and started jumping up and down. “Yes, yes!!! I knew I could get you back. I thought I had lost you there for a second. I thought the whole night was shot. All right, let’s get back into the spirit of things and do this right.”

We discussed what the boys (“our boys”) should wear at some length. I told Amy I thought Tom should wear his poplin khaki shorts with the white oxford shirt and his boat shoes – his “sailboat gear” as I knew it – and she thought it was a marvelous idea.

We sneaked around the Blues House first floor, rummaging through the guys’ closets and pulled out our “strongly recommended” outfits and laid them out on their respective beds. We were giggly with whispers in our robes.

For Mike, a black muscle shirt, which we both adored, and his tight faded-black designer jeans (no belt).

For Charlie there would be no option. The drawstring pants. We paired it with a flimsy-thin white dress shirt with long, sharp collar points (it was the Seventies).

We went back to Amy’s room. She offered to do my makeup. I told her I didn’t want much, but I let her do it because I had always admired how carefully her own makeup was applied. It was soothing and cozy to let her apply my makeup. I liked being pampered. She darkened my eyebrows a little (something I had never thought to do) and drew out my eyelashes with a few brushes of mascara. She gently rubbed a nude base on my face to smooth it out, and used a very light blush. She added just a hint of pale green eye shadow, to bring out my eyes she said, and she finished by touching up my curls with her curling iron and a bit of hairspray. When I looked in the mirror, I was grateful to her. My makeup would have been perfect for a very refined dinner party.

Amy looked over my shoulder into the mirror. “Not bad, eh?”

“It looks great, Amy. Thank you.”

“It’s perfect. You look perfectly young and healthy and natural, it’s just like you, but with a touch of elegance. Now go try on your outfit, and when you come back I’ll be ready to put on mine.”

I went to my room and took my time getting dressed. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I was going to a club in my new lingerie. I feared I was going to be too nervous to leave my room. When I finally slipped on my robe, I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought I looked hundred times better than I had the night before. I put on the pearl earrings and necklace and looked again. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I let my robe fall open and put my hands on my hips and I gaped at the mirror.

“I would fuck me,” I said out loud, and then I laughed.

I slipped off the robe and took another look. I turned to check my back. The bottoms of my bum cheeks were peeking out from their panties and barely draped with gauzy chiffon. Ouch, I thought; that looks hot.

I took one of my white roses, clipped it three inches from its bloom and cut off the thorns, and I placed it in my hair just over my ear. When I looked again, I was complete. I wouldn’t wear the rose to the club, but I liked it for showing myself off to my housemates. I dabbed a little of my best perfume in strategic places for the finishing touch.

I started down the hallway for Amy’s room. I had a little difficulty with my first steps in my new heels. I had never worn heels that high as I had always tried to make myself smaller. I was determined to enjoy the notion of making myself even larger than I was, and I worked on walking with some grace.

When I got to Amy’s room she was naked, her clothes were laid out on her bed, and she was packing a large beach bag with a change of clothes. I cleared my throat.

“Oh my God, get a load of you. What have I done?” Amy stood there naked, staring at me with her hands on her hips, her nipples protruding, her pussy perfectly coifed. I admired her immodesty. Her makeup was neat and simple. With her bouncy haircut and cute round face and slim, waif-like figure, she looked like the girl next door. I twirled around for her to see.

“What are you wearing?” I asked as I stepped over to her bed to inspect her garments.

“Take a look. Oh, and then bring down a change of clothes, jeans or something, and I’ll put them in here for the drive home.” She pointed to the beach bag.

She had laid out a finely woven fishnet body stocking. It was seamless and sleeveless with thin shoulder straps and a lunging v-back. It was effectively transparent. I picked it up and inspected it. It hardly weighed a thing. There was an opening in the crotch. I stuck a few fingers through the opening.

“My, this is little drafty, don’t you think?”

She also had sheer elbow-length black lace gloves. Her shoes were black leather granny boots with loads of laces and what looked like four-inch spiked heels. There was a butterfly shaped piece of black leather with snaps along the outer edges. I picked it up.

“There’re shorts.” She explained. “They snap up the sides for quick release. Pretty hot, eh? The shoes have zippers on the sides, too. Functional designs, that’s what I like.”

“I can’t wait to see the whole ensemble.”

“Have a seat.” She held up a bottle of white wine. I nodded yes and she poured out two glasses.

“To us,” she said offering me one glass.

“Cheers,” I replied.

“And to the chrysalis of Miss Annie Malone,” Amy said and we clinked our glasses.

“To what?”

“To you,” Amy said with a smile.

I stepped out of my heels and sat down on her bed to watch her dress. She put on her gold hoop earrings, a gold rope necklace, the gloves, and a few simple gold bangles on her wrist. She paraded herself for me in only her jewelry and gloves, and I couldn’t help but think that if I were a man, I would think she was about the sexiest a thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t get over how firm and perfectly shaped her breasts were, and how tight her bottom was in comparison to my own jiggle-prone abundance of flesh.

“You should go just like that,” I cheered her on.

“I practically am.”

She sat next to me to put her legs into her body stocking and then stood up and pulled it on. The back was low and the sheer fabric framed her bottom attractively. She turned, and I could see her nipples and her pubic hair, but not as distinctly as I had expected. She stepped into her granny boots and zipped them up. She looked spellbinding. I had to complement her.

“Oh, Amy, I am glad I am not a man, because I couldn’t bear the pain you’d cause me. You are captivating.”

She was looking at herself in the dressing mirror and I got up to see what she was looking at. We stood next to each other and admired ourselves.

“I don’t know if the Troubadour is ready for us, girl,” she said, and then she turned to me.

“Give me a hug,” Amy said extending her arms.

We hugged and she put her head against my shoulder. She pressed her body against my robe.

“Mmm, that fells good,” she purred.

She looked up at me and closed her eyes as if she expected to be kissed. She felt warm and cuddly against me, and our scents mingled, fresh and clean and sweet, and I kissed her. We kissed for a long time. Then she told me that I was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever encountered, and I blushed as she slipped her hands into my robe, under the chiffon, and touched my naked skin. The lace from her gloves tickled me. We kissed again. Her back was firm and smooth to my touch. She pushed her hands into my panties and kneaded my bum. I was wet with desire.

“You look good enough to eat, Annie”

“Oh, Amy, don’t get me started like this.”

“Just a little bit?” she pleaded.

“We’ll mess up our makeup.” We kissed again.

“We’re messing it up now.”

She slipped her hand down the front of my panties and pressed her lacy fingers into my dampness. I moaned. She pushed down my panties until they dropped to the floor. I stepped out of them. She sat me down on the edge of her bed, and knelt in front of me, her head slipped under the chiffon. I spread my legs, and she pressed the tip of her tongue against my clit. I shuddered immediately. I laid back and put my feet up on the edge of the bed. She ran her firm little tongue over my downy moistness.

“You know,” I said, “we could wind up doing this all night, and we’d never get to your club.”

“Just a quickie,” she mumbled into my pussy.

I watched her head between my legs. I wondered how I had come to this. It was just the two of us, just me and another women – I had never done this before. And then I decided it was just Amy; I didn’t care. I closed my eyes.

I luxuriated in her efforts to please me. And then I was overcome with a new desire. I leaned up on my elbows.

“I want to taste you,” I heard myself say.

I suspect it was about the time I made this comment that I realized I had again given up on any concept of decency. Amy had won me over. I was a dirty, conniving sex slut, and that’s all there was to it. I was enraptured with the power and pleasure of my sexuality.

Amy sat next to me on the bed.

I took the rose out of my hair and got down on my knees on the carpet in front of her. She spread her legs and I crawled between them. Her pussy was beautifully hairless with moist, enticingly pink skin peeking through the slit in her satiny smooth mound.

“I’ve never done this before,” I pouted.

Amy laughed and spoke soothingly. “You hadn’t been ass-fucked before either, but that didn’t seem to bother you.”

“Thanks,” I said facetiously.

For a moment I entertained the thought that Amy’s pussy was much prettier than mine. Her lips were tiny and tight. I let the thought go. I pushed her thighs apart. The fishnet was slippery. The opening in her body stocking spread and her pinkness opened before me. I tasted her. I had tasted myself before, on my fingers and the fingers of men. She tasted less salty, but more pungent. Perhaps it was my proximity to the aroma.

Her labia were smooth and slippery to my tongue. I flicked her clit. She squeaked with delight. Her slit has hot. I ran my tongue up and down her plump, hairless labia. Her mound was soft and pliant. I pulled the lips of her pussy back, exposing her hot-pink clit. I kissed it delicately, with tightly pursed lips. She purred. I placed her clit between my lips and pinched it. She giggled. I sucked at it, and she moaned. This was a lot less strenuous than sucking cock, I thought, and it was producing more immediate results.

I was stimulated by the fact that she was excited. I wanted her to come. I wanted to feel the heat and texture of her vaginal walls. I slipped a finger into her, and sucked at her clit more vigorously. She let out a long, low moan. I pulled back to get a better look, and I slipped yet another finger into her, turning my hand palm up and pressing my fingers against the front of her vaginal wall. I massaged her vagina, curling my fingers forward, while I rubbed her clit with my thumb. This was my favorite non-equipment-enhanced self-pleasuring technique, and I was glad to see Amy liked it.

Her back arched, and she cried out, “Oh Annie, yes.”

I went deeper, and she was hotter still. My nails were too long that night for me to curl my fingers all the way, as I sometimes liked to do to myself. She reached down for my head. I pulled my thumb away and took her clit back into my mouth. I kept curling my fingers and flicking her clit, and she said, “That’s it,” and I kept going, and she got wetter and wetter.

And then she came. She shuddered. Fluid the temperature of freshly served tea flooded my tongue and fingers. It was tasteless, and thinner than her pussy juice. It was like water running through oil. She pushed my head away, reacting as if her clit were suddenly overly sensitized. She let out a coughing gurgle and then sighed. I pulled my fingers from her. Amy spoke.

“Oh, baby,” and then she mocked my whiny voice, “… ‘never done this before’ my ass.”

“Truth. Good Lord, you’re a wet one.”

“Sorry. You got me gushing. That doesn’t happen very often.”

I was desirous again, but I a different desire.

“I didn’t get to come,” I pouted, fingering myself as I kneeled, staring at her soaked pussy.

“Here,” she said, and she situated herself on her bed stretched out lengthwise.

“Here what?”

“Sit on my face. Go ahead. I’ll redo my makeup. We’ve got time.”

So I did as I was told. I got up and straddled her, positioning my now demanding flesh over her face. I parted my baby doll and rested my haunches on her chest. I smothered her mouth with my pussy, and she went at me with abandon. She lapped and sucked and rolled my clit in her mouth. She scraped it gently with her teeth, and I almost screamed out. She reached up and squeezed my tits. I reached down and pulled my pussy open with my hands, and she started shaking her head wildly, pulling my clit from side to side.

I began to buck my sopping pussy against her face, obliterating what was left of her lovely makeup. I fell forward, my arms on the bed, and she used the opportunity to slip two fingers into me as she suckled my clit. She began massaging the front of my vaginal wall, but more aggressively than I had done for her, and more aggressively than I ever would have dared to do to myself. She pressed into me strongly, rubbing, pushing, and then she worked her fingers like she was running with them, running in place on my vaginal wall, pressing it into my pubic mound. It was excruciating.

And then I was lost. I stopped breathing. My whole body clenched and I disappeared into fiery ball of sensation.

“Uhnoohooooo…” I couldn’t contain myself. It was like I was coming a ten times in rapid succession. I pushed my pussy down on her face.

And then I heard a male voice.

“Hey, where are you girls?”

It was Charlie, presumably sticking his head into the door to Amy’s suite. I laughed.

“Coming!” I sang out loudly, and Amy almost suffocated under me in an apoplexy of laughter.