Into the Deep End

And her lingual attentions elicited a non-stop refrain of similar ooohs and aaahs from Connie. When she couldn't stand it anymore, Connie lifted Paige's head, and, after another protracted kiss, dropped her own face, lips first, to engulf Paige's tit. Eventually Connie stopped, her lips washing the valley between Paige's boobs. Hanging on tight, a hand on each breast, she lowered herself, allowing her tongue to fall, dragging down over Paige's belly, dipping momentarily to swirl in Paige's navel; then, quite suddenly, she pushed against Paige's chest, effectively throwing her onto her back, in the middle of the bed. Pulling Paige's legs out straight, she fumbled with the waistband of her panties. "Let's get rid of these," she sang as she rolled her buddy's underwear down her thighs and past her knees to leave them dangling from an ankle, for Paige to casually kicked aside.

Connie managed to squirm out of her own panties, as she pushed herself back up the bed to lie beside Paige. Turning to resume kissing she found Paige's welcoming lips, and while one hand returned to fondling her boobs, the other slipped smoothly into the front of her girlfriend's pussy, and, finding her quim, not unexpectedly moist, began stroking her fingers up and down the slick furrow. Somewhat overwhelmed, Paige's rather tacit decision was to simply follow her instructor's lead. The persistent kissing, the tweaking of her nipples, the stroking of her slit and flicking of her clit, combined with the exotically lovely feel of the warm, wet folds of Connie's pussy soon had Paige vibrating. It was, indeed, wondrously marvelous. She could feel a climax in the offing, approaching slowly and inexorably. But before the final ascent, Connie pulled back. Pausing for a beat, she looked into Paige's glittering eyes and whispered, "Let me show you what Stewie does for me. He calls it 'Goin' down', or 'eating at the 'Y'.'"

Connie then slid down, slotting herself between Paige's legs, and, after briefly admiring the proffered twat, took a deep appreciative breath, and dove in face first, to proceed with a gentle cunnilingus. It was deliciously novel and novelly delicious. Both girls would have agreed had the thought been voiced. Paige kept touching the peak, but the strangeness of the situation prevented her from quite going over the edge. "This is my first time giving head to a girl," Connie muttered through the sodden bush. "I like it, too!" While keeping her face well planted in Paige's bush, Connie began to shuffle over Paige's thigh and rotate up her body. Swinging a leg over Paige's head, she said, "Here, you try it!" and dropped her own dripping cunt onto Paige's face in a classic sixty-nine—classic soixante-neuf!

Connie's tongue, dancing over and into Piage's pussy, sent enough sparkles and flashes racing through her whole body, that Paige could hardly focus on anything else. With a concentrated effort, though, Paige stuck out her tongue, tentatively, licking between Connie's hot, wet, and puffy labia. After only a couple of swirls, she set to lapping and sucking like she knew what she was doing—doing to her BFF more or less what her BFF was doing to her. A spectacular arousal and excitement, radiating simultaneously from both their pussies and their mouths—their tongues and their clits—consumed the rest of their shared awareness.

Their crises raced through and throughout each of them. Connie was the first to actually get there. She felt herself cum so hard, her body went rigid, causing her to sit up straight and forcing her sex down hard onto Paige's tongue. Momentarily paralyzed, Connie's bottom sealed itself against Paige's face. Paige couldn't breathe nor move from beneath Connie's face-sitting, and the ensuing panic briefly interrupted her critical ascent. Quickly enough, though, Connie's crisis passed, and she gently began rocking her bum on Paige's upturned face, rhythmically coming off her nose, until, at last, she leaned forward to bury her own face, once more, between Paige's slick thighs. As her lingual caresses flickered over Paige's clitoris a second, then third time, Paige's orgasm triggered at last, and washed over her like a waterfall,

Her ecstatic screams were muffled against Connie's pussy and the buzz of her subsequent moaning caused Connie's already dripping cunt to quiver and glow. As her crisis faded, leaving her glistening with perspiration and soaked in a heavenly field of sexual satisfaction, Paige, unconsciously, started up kissing and licking and sucking and swallowing all over again.

"Mmmm. That was great!" Connie purred as she rolled off Paige, onto her back.

"Well, yeah, It was that," Paige had to concede, as they lay side by side on the bed, catching their breath, "I guess it does quench the 'hornies', at least temporarily, but, at the same time, it's got me thinking about the weekend." A smile lit up her face, and a tingling sparkled, once again, between her legs. "And the buffet—no, cornucopia of experiences—stimuli, peaks, and releases I discovered. Omigod!! Mmm!"

After a contemplative silence, Connie observed, rather philosophically, "Yeah. I guess there's nothing like a good, hard cock, eh?"

Paige rolled against her bestie, and, hugging her, whispered, "No, but that was really lovely." Giving Connie an extra squeeze for emphasis, she purred, "It really was!"

Connie, whispered inaudibly, "But..." as Paige chattered on and on and on about the delights of the previous weekend. Connie was becoming rather concerned—even frightened. Paige seemed to be obsessed with her newfound sexuality; and Connie felt sort of responsible. There, on the afterglow of an absolutely marvelous girl-on-girl get-together, Paige suddenly couldn't stop talking about the last Sunday's orgy. Connie worried, had she created a pathological nymphomaniac?

Much to her distress, the next weekend, the weekend following her sexual initiation, was dry for Paige; taken up, as it was, with family obligations. All she could think about was the sex of the previous week; so much so that her family remarked, on several occasions, about her apparent preoccupation. Frustrated, she called Connie on the phone several times, but, all she could talk about was the desire for more of what she'd just discovered: more stimuli, more arousal, more satisfaction, more climaxes. "At least," Connie thought, "she's including a desire for the orgasms we shared, too." It seemed to Connie that her erstwhile innocent BFF had become fixated on sexual satisfaction. In fact, she was starting to sound like a junkie, craving a fix.

What with one thing and another, the girls couldn't get together until the following Wednesday, when Connie dropped by Paige's place. As soon as discretion would allow, Connie told Paige about her couple dates with Stewie. Then she felt slightly guilty for deliberately making Paige envious. As Paige went on about how much she wanted to "...do it again," Connie, as if to put it to rest, proposed another blind date for Friday or Saturday. It had actually been Stewie's idea.

"Leave it to me," Connie told her. Paige's delight was palpable, and the excitement of anticipation made her feel playful and frisky. She began poke and pull at Connie, gleefully, like a child eager for Christmas, and her teasing subtly evolved into groping. Laughingly batting her hands away, Connie slowly began to reciprocate. While the air in Paige's bedroom had, at first, tinkled with giggling, it gradually transformed into an atmosphere crackling with erotic tension. Hence, as the afternoon in Paige's room rolled on, while much less frenzied than that first time, their sapphic sex blossomed and bloomed, progressing much like before.

Sitting together on the bed, they turned and their lips met in what seemed such a natural thing, and, yet, their kissing rapidly built in passion until they were each aggressively fencing and stabbing with their tongues. In no time at all their hands were slipping under tops to fondle boobs. It didn't take much pinching and twisting of nipples for Connie to impatiently lift Paige's top to bare her breasts, and take to hungrily sucking her nipples. Paige lifted Connie's face to kiss her firmly on the lips before dropping her lips onto Connie's chest—taking her turn suckling. After a spell, Paige trailed her tongue down over Connie's flat tummy, to dig her way into Connie's pants and, wrestling her clothing out of the way, settle her mouth fully onto Connie's snatch.

To Connie's delight, Paige was a quick study. Latching on like a lamprey, it seemed she already knew what to do—how to inflame Connie's arousal. It was, really, simple enough; she had a pretty good idea what she liked, so she just did that, with variations on the theme. It worked. Connie's hips bucked and heaved, her temperature rising, as she thundered towards climax; and her blatant arousal tore at Paige's composure, dragging her towards the brink as well. Their lesbian love seemed so natural, so nice. So, trying to prolong the ascent, Paige began to shuffle up, pivoting around their mouth to pussy connection, until she had shifted one hundred eighty degrees, whereupon she lifted her leg and swung her across Connie's face to plant her knees either side of Connie's head.

They had, of course, enjoyed doing it 'sixty-nine' before, but with Paige on top, this time was different; basically, a new position. Paige lowered herself gently and tenderly, planting her own sex firmly on Connie's face. Then, becoming increasingly active, mashing and smushing her lips against Connie's sex, Paige's tongue lapped and poked and flicked with accelerating intensity. Huffing and puffing under the weight of Paige's bottom, Connie returned the attention in kind! In no time at all, they both raced towards climax—Connie slightly in the lead. But, just as she reached orgasm, with Paige poised close behind, the background noise suddenly became clear.

"Paige?" Paige's mom called, possibly for a second time, "Are you up there?"

"Yeah, Mom," she called, trying to control her breathing. "down in a sec," as the two of them scrambled back into their clothing, while both thinking the same thought: 'Geez! Of all the times for Mom/Paige's mom to arrive home early!' Sauntering into the kitchen with an intense casualness, the girls, both glowing and flushed, were certain they looked as guilty as they felt. But, if Paige's mom suspected any kind of hankie-pankie, or whatever, she never showed it.

Thursday, the girls spoke on the phone in hushed tones, debriefing their near-miss. After sharing their relief, Connie announced, "I've lined you up a date; for Friday night. We're all gonna see a movie..." and before Paige could express her disappointment, she added, "at the Ridgemont—some racy action flick double-bill." The Ridgemont was the last remaining Drive-in theatre anywhere about.

Connie went on to say how she had procured a suitable partner

"So, who is this guy?"

"He's the son of an old family friend, a friend of my Dad's. I've known him for years. Stewie's met him; in fact, Stewie suggested him—as someone who might be able to satisfy 'your cravings'."

"You told Stewie about our conversations?" Paige asked, aghast at the possibility.

"No, of course not! He's just making assumptions based on what he saw of you with his cousin." Her tone said, "Duh!" then, she went on. "Anyway, this other guy, Otis, is slightly older than us—he's a junior in college, and..." she said with a flourish, "he's a linebacker on the varsity football team. He, supposedly, has his sights set on the pros."

"Anyhow, Stewie and I spoke with him on the phone, and Stewie, the dumbass, related just a few details of your initiation. The upshot is that Otis would like to meet you, so I set it up for Friday night. I mean, he's got a nice car—with a front seat and a back seat." Connie concluded by saying, "We'll pick you up around seven. There's something kinda nostalgic or old-fashioned, about double dating at a drive-in, don't you think?"

They pulled up in front of Paige's place Friday evening in a real pimp-mobile—a matte black, late model Chrysler 300, with deep-tinted windows, nineteen-inch wheels, and ultra-low-profile tires, which lent it a rather sinister appearance.

With a quick "Bye," Paige dashed out, hoping her parents wouldn't see the car she got into. Connie slipped into the back with Stewie, so Paige could just slide right into front. They were rolling before the greetings were done. Connie leaned forward and said, without any preamble, "Otis, this is my BFF, Paige. Paige, Otis." Paige was surprised that Otis was black, "Not that it matters," she assured herself. She just hadn't expected it—hadn't expected that neither Connie nor Stewie would have mentioned it.

The drive to the theatre was filled with small talk that, not until they approached their destination, became innuendo-laden. They glided, like a ghost-car, into a slot right at dusk. As soon as they'd stopped, Stewie said, "I'm gonna get us some drink and munchies at the concession. Anybody want anything? Speak now..." Given their requests, he'd ambled off.

By that time, Paige's eager anticipation had eroded into impatience. She bounced up on her knees and, turning, said to Connie, "I call dibs on the back seat!" Surprised by her own temerity, she tugged at Otis's sleeve and purred, "What d'ya say, big boy?" Otis just smiled and opened his door. Bemused, Connie exchanged places with Paige, slipping into the front. By the time Stewie returned, the trailers had begun, and Otis and Paige were already playing tonsil hockey, their hands in full-on grope; hence, Stewie was obliged to get in driver's door.

Connie, almost reluctantly, turned away from the back-seat spectacle to help her boyfriend place the refreshments safely on the dashboard. Their eyes met with a twinkle, and they shared a conspiratorial giggle, while Otis and Paige completely ignored their audience.

Already fumbling with his zipper as they tumbled about in the back seat, Paige reared back to give Otis's fly her full attention. "Can't wait to get at the ol' licorice stick, hey?" he chuckled. Paige could only nod as her gaze was glued to the slow reveal of his impressive cock. In her not so much limited as brief experience, she could not initially compare his tool to Marcus's—besides the obvious differences, the colour and Otis's being uncircumcised. Hefting the stiffening appendage, Paige's pussy began to jangle and throb. In the same instant, her mouth watered. Without willing it, she felt herself sliding down between Otis's knees. She studied his dark truncheon carefully on her approach. And, on closer inspection, she decided he was perhaps not quite as long as Marcus had been, but definitely bigger in girth.

Rounding her mouth and pulling her lips into a tight 'O', Paige gripped his shaft with both hands and pushed her mouth against his cockhead. Jacking him with both hands, she forced her mouth over his plum, rolling back his foreskin until her mouth was filled. She inhaled Otis's arousing scent—the musky aroma of a libidinous male. It immediately intensified her arousal in a sort of primal way—the involuntary female response to a male pheromone.

While, there in the back-seat, Paige surrendered herself to her desires, Connie and Stewie, ostensibly watching the film, groped one another casually across the console. Connie had adjusted the rear-view mirror so they could both see behind them when they put their heads together. Luckily the movie didn't require much concentration as they were constantly being distracted by the back-seat action. The goings-on behind them were much more interesting and enjoyable than any of the porn Connie and Stewie had ever seen—not that that was much. She turned to observe for a moment over the seat-back, then settled back, shoulder to shoulder with Stewie to keep track through the mirror. There, she watched, amazed at the transformation of her innocent friend.

Trying to distract Connie from her distraction, Stewie finally got his fingers into her panties. He was delighted to find she was well turned-on. Her underwear was sopping and his digits slipped into her like... like, well... Stroking her engorged clit, whilst mauling her exposed tits, Stewie couldn't be bothered to complete the simile. Eyes on the mirror, Connie reached down and blindly released Stewie's woodie. Holding it still, she didn't stroke, but squeezed and relaxed, pulled and released.

Meanwhile, to say Otis had risen to the occasion would be an understatement. Paige moaned and whimpered as she tried valiantly to take his full length in—to deep-throat him. With his fingers spidered over her ears, Otis followed her fellatio rather than guided it. He hummed and gasped, his head back, his smile wide, as he tried to control his rocketing arousal; until, quite abruptly he pulled Paige off his root, lifted her under her arms, and pulled her to straddle his thighs. Deftly lowering her, he fitted the plum of his cockhead smoothly against her dripping labia. Holding still, he leaned forward to nibble her nipples, then allowed her to drop at her own speed onto his proud erection. A keening wail of ecstasy escaped her lips as Paige, her hands braced on Otis's shoulders, covered his glistening hard-on, bit by bit, until, as her bottom settled onto his lap, and his prick pushed against the far wall of her vagina, her climax exploded.

The strength and violence of her orgasm filled the car with a charged sexual energy that pulled, not just Otis over the brink, but Connie and Stewie, as well. Their amalgamated climax was followed by a thick calm. Silent, but for the ragged breathing and the suddenly suspenseful music from the speakers, her hand dripping with spunk and her sodden panties sticking to the leather seat, Connie couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. "And, my goodness," she thought, "dear, sweet Paige, my pure and naive best friend, is turning out to be quite the slut!"

The front seaters recovered first. Coming back to life, after their brief respite, Stewie's two-handed manipulations, at Connie's box and boobs together, resumed. Raising his face, he passionately sought her lips, but Connie grabbed his cheeks and, allowing him barely more than a chaste peck, forcefully guided him down to her eager vee. Stewie, familiar with the routine, set about making her cum on his tongue. He licked her from stem to stern, and back again, poking his tongue into her rosebud, he drew it in a leisurely sweep, up her furrow, gathering her nectar that pooled between her labia, to swirl it around her clit. There he paused, still but for the flicking of his tongue-tip, batting her erect and engorged love-button, before dropping his chin and dragging his mouth—pointed tongue and moistened lips—all the way back to her bottom. Connie rocked her pelvis to assist him in reaching all the way under. Her nerves sparkled as he dipped into her anus once more.

Indeed, Connie and Stewie fucked and sucked, fondled and stroked their way right through the evening, pausing only occasionally to watch the action behind them. The mysterious black sedan basically rocked and sway right through the two feature films—not even noticing the intermission. Actually, the second film was indistinguishable from the first. Anyway, the tinted windows were fogged much of the time, obscuring the action on the screen.

Otis and Paige's slow recovery segued naturally into their next position. Otis played Paige like a violin, as he effortlessly repositioned her onto all fours, her head against the rear door, facilitating a 'doggie-style' coupling—in such a way as to almost make it seem romantic. Giving himself a couple of strokes of encouragement, Otis pushed his tool steadily all the way into Paige's clutching quim, until he could go no further. Paige felt the firm bumping deep within, as his balls swung and slapped her clitoris. Waves of muscle spasm ran through her vagina, as her velvet glove began clasping and gripping its fleshy intruder. While it wasn't rushed, it didn't take long at all. They fed off one another, their arousal taking off on the same rocket. Climaxing together, they collapsed, panting—Paige rocking back to drop her chest onto the leather seat, and Otis going limp on top of her.