Chapter 4

"I could use another drink, Lonnie," Cylvia Oliss said. She glanced at the young wife, smiling cat-like to herself. I don't need one -- and by the way she's having trouble keeping steady, she doesn't need another, either -- but she's going to!

"No... no I better not," Lonnie said. Her head was spinning from the unaccustomed heavy dosage of alcohol which had been fed to her. Fed by her own hand and the alternate turns at mixing by her best friend. On an empty stomach, the liquor went straight to work, and she realized belatedly that she was on the verge of being drunk, not just euphorically high. She couldn't even remember whether the empty glass on the coffee table was the symbol of her fifth or sixth drink; worse, she really didn't care. She just knew that she had to slow down...

"What about going out for dinner now?" she asked.

Cylvia Oliss stood up, smoothing her short dress. She shrugged as the picked up her glass -- and Lonnie's as well. "I'm not hungry yet, I'm afraid. I ready feel like having another short one -- I'll make a weak one for you." She walked into the kitchen and again poured both vodka and scotch into Lonnie's glass, then a good dollop of ginger ale; the sparkling mix only made the liquor be absorbed faster. She looked at the scotch bottle and smirked. It had been a fresh bottle when the evening had started. Here it was nearly ten o'clock and there was less than an inch left in the bottom. She was feeling good, not tipsy or anything even close to drunk because she'd made sure that Lonnie Carmel had gotten the bulk of the bottle.

"I certainly hate it when Martin's away," she sighed, sitting down beside Lonnie. She was so close that her thigh rubbed against her friend's leg... the move was not accidental.

"I know what you mean," Lonnie moaned.

"Without... without Roger I feel positively barren."

"No sex?" the Oliss woman said lewdly, slyly grinning.

"No!..." The sudden question, with its salacious overtones, surprised Lonnie. How bold! What did her friend think she did, anyway? Fool around while her husband was away? "Why, why Cylvia!" she gasped, "I'm faithful to Roger!"

Cylvia chuckled. "I didn't mean it like that, though God knows you could have all the men you wanted." She appraised the young housewife with calculating eyes, openly admiring her lush figure. "Your breasts are much larger than mine, and your hips... well, I don't mind telling you I'm envious of you."

"Thank... you," Lonnie said, shaken by the overt praise, and a little unsure how to accept it. It must be the liquor talking in Cylvia, she thought. We've both had quite a lot. She blinked as she found herself frankly studying her friend, not as a friend or even as a person, but as a woman -- a sexual object which could attract and please. She wondered what Cylvia would look like in the nude, what it would be like to be a man and kiss her, caress her breasts (which were as sensual a pair as she'd seen, and certainly a match in their own right for her fuller ones) until the nipples stood out hard, to make love to her... In shock, she smiled embarrassingly as Cylvia caught her gaze, and drank nervously from her full drink. Cylvia leaned over her to get a cigarette from the cannister on the table, and her breast swung heavily against Lonnie's arm. The heady musk of her perfume filled her nostrils, and with deliberate provocation Cylvia straightened and searched for a match in her purse with a sensuous motion of the hips and legs. Her skirt rose a little higher...

"No, I think that you could find lots of males, and nicely endowed ones, too; with lots of money, good looks and long hard cocks."

"Cylvia-!" came a horrified choke at her sudden use of the lewd word.

"Don't be shy. It's just hen-talk between us girls." Cylvia winked at Lonnie. "Haven't you ever wanted to say a few dirty words? Let your hair down and use them the way a man does?"

Lonnie hesitated, embarrassed but at the same time fuddled by the vodka and scotch enough so that it all seemed sort of innocently daring. A private game between the two of them which couldn't hurt.

Say a dirty word," Cylvia wheedled. "Say something like cock."

"C-cock," Lonnie found herself repeating. She blushed madly.

"Something else. Go on."

"Screw..." Lonnie shivered at the use of the vulgarisms. It was exciting and perverted, and tinged with excitement. She felt a small surge of pleasure in her abdomen, and a little lower in her vagina. She giggled slightly, and averted her eyes. "Screw," she said louder.

"Screw," Cylvia said disparagingly. "What kind of dirty word is that? Screw! What does Roger do when he wants to empty his cock and balls into your cunt, Lonnie? Tell me the real word for what he does to you."

"He... fucks me," she stammered.

"Where?" The question came out with a gasp, as if the words were exciting the Oliss wife... which they were, but her reaction only helped feed the rising thrill in Lonnie Carmel's loins. Cylvia licked her lips, her pink tongue circling them and leaving them glistening. "Where does Roger fuck you?"

"In... in..." she wasn't sure if she could say it! But then she felt like such an innocent, such a prude in front of her friend. Cylvia was enjoying it, and in honesty, she had to admit she was as well... and she trusted her friend, trusted her as only one true confident can trust another. It wasn't as if she was on stage, addressing an audience. She could be free with Cylvia... and more important, with Martin and Roger gone and only the two of them together now, she wanted to be free with her. She was drawn closer to her friend by the circumstances, and the bond tightened another notch as she said haltingly: "Roger... fucks me... in the... cunt! In my cunt!"

"Sure he does," Cylvia said. "Just like Martin fucks me in my cunt." She leaned back in her seat and stretched out her legs and to Lonnie's amazement, began to rub her thighs and belly with the palms of her hands. She stroked all around her genital area, moaning slightly as if in heat. "Ohhhhh, Lonnie, sometimes when Martin's not around, I nearly go out of my mind wanting a cock in me. My cunt gets so hot, that I think it'll burn a hole in my panties." She grinned lewdly at the lovely wife. "Sometimes," she whispered as if it was a guilty secret, "I even walk around without my panties. Without anything, just so the cool air will calm the fire in my pussy down."

"You... do?" Lonnie gulped her drink, the brazen confessions forging new and evil images on her brain. Cylvia... pantyless, going about the house naked between her legs... but why not? Who's to know; Who's to see? It... even sounded like fun! Lonnie's heart began to pound faster, and she blamed the alcohol for her broken barriers of propriety, and for the way Cylvia was confiding the most inner secrets about her private life and marital relations...

"And... I-do other things!" Cylvia said. She inched still closer, as if afraid the walls had ears. She put one arm around Lonnie's shoulder. "I have to... or I'd go mad."

Lonnie asked before she realized what she was saying, "What kind of things?"

Cylvia tried to blush -- a harder task than she had had to do so far. "I'll... show you." She picked up her purse, a wide, straw basket with leather straps. "Martin once bought these books in Europe," she said, bringing out a set of pamphlets. They were about the size of a Reader's Digest, only about twelve pages in thickness. There were different colored paper covers on them, but all were entitled: Climax Illustrated, with different volume numbers on them. "We would sit in bed and look at the pictures and get hotter than hell. We'd be naked, you see, and I'd look at his cock get excited and grow straight up in the air. Then we'd make love; screw, to use your word. He'd fuck my toenails off, in my language."

Lonnie took one of the booklets, and said as she opened the cover, "But I don't understand." She was confused, dizzy from the liquor, upset by not having her husband here, tortured by the increasing tingles of prurience which was emanating stronger and stronger from her loins and breasts, and mentally distraught from the deepening lewdness of the conversation. She didn't understand anything -- and when she opened the booklet and caught the first picture, she really didn't understand!

"Why! Why... this is obscene!" Her eyes bulged slightly at the salacious color picture. It was of two women, sitting on the couch, both beautiful young Scandinavians; they were in a state of undress, one having only a garter belt and stockings on, and the other in her panties and high boots. The one in the boots was kissing the hardened ruby-tipped nipple on the other's left breast. Lonnie and Cylvia sat in silence for a moment, as Lonnie took a deep swallow of her drink feeling some composure returning to her stomach.

"Turn the page, Lonnie. It gets better!"

"No..." But her mind couldn't control her fingers. The page turned, and she reeled under the pornographic display of both girls stretched out on the couch now, the panties around one ankle of the girl; they were facing one another, but in such a way that their mouths were kissing each other's vaginas, their fingers spreading their soft strands of pubic hair. The pink vagina slits were visible, and on the opposing page were close-ups of each tonguing the soft flesh and rich thighs of the other.

Lonnie was unable to tear herself away from the pictures. She'd heard of lesbianism, occasionally even wondered what it felt like to have the softer, more tender touch of a woman on her skin -- but she'd never seen it before, had it so detailed before her eyes!

She turned to her friend, and found that Cylvia was now slouched in her seat, her legs wide apart. Her skirt was even higher than before!

"They make me excited," Cylvia panted, her eyes glued to the pictures. "So damned hot! There's others, with men and dogs, and even one with a negro with a cock the size of a telephone pole... but there's something about this set, with the girls, that tears me apart when I look at them "

"You can't mean it!" Lonnie gaped.

"I do," Cylvia said, nodding. "I'm being honest, and as my friend, you can be honest with me. Don't they excite you? Don't they make you want to spread your legs for the first thing that comes in sight?"

"But -- but these are perverted! They're doing un-unnatural acts!"

"They're merely enjoying themselves, Lonnie. Without men around, what else is there? Besides fingering yourself, I mean. That's what I do when I'm alone and look at the pictures. I take all my clothes off and lie on the bed and look at the girls making love and I play with my own cunt until I cum."

"Cylvia," Lonnie moaned. She was so awfully mixed up. She knew she shouldn't have had that last drink, for her vision was becoming distorted with her mental reflection of what she'd done that morning -- what she'd done to herself on previous days when the build-up of passion had been too great. She'd lain on her bed, naked, and done the exact same things to her pussy which Cylvia was admitting having done to herself! She felt she should stop this perverted talking before it got any worse... but the drinks and Cylvia's salacious confessions and the pictures before her were a melange too strong to counter-act. She felt wicked churnings in her body, the prickles of arousal stirring in her blood and marrow.

"Ohhh, God, Lonnie, I'm excited," Cylvia mewled. "I... I don't think I can stand it!"

Mrs. Lonnie Carmel's heretofore naive view of her best friend and trusted confident took another shattering blow. For Cylvia raised her dress yet higher, so that now it was bunched around her waist -- and that she wasn't wearing any panties! Cylvia Oliss was naked from the waist down, and was brazenly spreading her logs still wider, exposing her moist, blonde-haired cunt to Lonnie's wild-eyed vision.

Lonnie was speechless. Never had she been a part of such abandonment of modesty. She'd seen other girls in the nude, of course; had taken showers and been at slumber parties and changed into bathing suits with no thought that their -- and her -- private parts were in display. But there had been good taste then, and not a flaunting of genitals with overtones of sex so apparent. Here, now, her best friend was shameless and openly admitting her unfulfilled needs, her most decadent of practices. Lonnie was always ashamed of having to use her own hands to relieve the hunger of her sex drive -- and never had the thought occurred to her to use any stimulus, such as pictures or stories, either alone or with Roger! And whenever she did conjure up images during the billowing heat waves of her arousal, it was always of Roger...

"God, all I can think of is my cunt being kissed," Cylvia groaned. She parted her thighs and rotated her bare thighs on the couch, her one hand moving up and down, encircling the lovely curls and swollen red valley of her vaginal lips, while her other hand was still around Lonnie's shoulder, preventing her friend from leaving the couch. "Just like those girls are doing to each other... see, Lonnie? Their kisses, their tongues, their finger-fucking each other. Ooohhhhh..."

Lonnie tried to avert her eyes from the licentious sight of Cylvia undulating her loins and agitating her throbbing cunt, but her gaze only returned to the lusty pictures and the twin females of perversion. She swallowed hard, her throat dry, her stomach a thousand butterflies. She looked back at her friend and was drawn once more to Cylvia's soft pubic triangle, for there was a strange attraction for the woman's hair and flesh which made Lonnie cringe and want to pull away and yet lean closer at the same time.

"Ahhhh," Cylvia moaned uncontrollably. "Ahhh, it feed so good..."

The Oliss woman revolved her fingers in the lust-moistened furrow of her pussy now, her legs bent slightly to allow her hand full access as she hungrily managed her cuntal slit. The flesh grew redder with excitement, and she breathed harder and harder, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. She leaned her head against Lonnie's rigid shoulder and clenched her teeth. "Uuhhhh," she sighed through her mouth.

"Stop it," Lonnie pleaded. "Please... please stop it."

"Why? I'm only doing what I enjoy. We're friends, Lonnie. We understand one another, and we both know we masturbate."

Her moist, glistening vagina was splayed wide for Lonnie's view, and the shocked young wife could smell its perfumed female secretions. As much as she wanted Cylvia to stop, she was too close in spirit and desires to the Oliss woman to be anything but a sympathetic and empathetic comrade. Tears of frustration and indecision clouded her lids -- and there was her own deep wetness building between her inner thighs. With a terrified Jolt, Lonnie realized that her own hips were unconsciously starting to grind with helpless excitement, and that her breasts and vagina were actually hurting in response to Cylvia's immoral teasing of her own loins.

Cylvia Oliss wasn't quite as thoroughly out of rational control as she was making her hapless woman companion believed. She loved what she was doing -- had always reveled in displaying her full, curvaceous body in lewd and debauched ways in front of others -- but in spite of the ebullient sensations running rampant through her, one sane portion of her brain kept a close watch on the reactions of her friend, and with the sureness born of experience and cunning, she dropped her hand from Lonnie's shoulder and cupped one of the large, round globes of Roger Carmel's wife. Lonnie shuddered at the alien feel and bit her lower lip hard, and for a moment tried to pull away. But the aching wretchedness inside her spread like wild-fire at the soft touch, draining her of the will to resist. She dropped the booklet on the table with a groan; it stayed open to the evil photo of the two Scandinavian girls frozen in their passionate soixante-neuf position. Cylvia waited until Lonnie had capitulated to the fingers, then she moved her arm and edged up inside Lonnie's thin sweater until once more the hardening flesh and budding nipple of the woman's breast was teased. And all the while she continued to fondle her clitoris and vagina with abandonment.

Cylvia Oliss mewled again as she slid the bra up over the quivering mounds of Lonnie Carmel's breasts, and could hardly restrain herself from ripping off the sweater then and there so she could drink in the loveliness of her friend's full twin mounds. She knew instinctively that they'd be beautiful -- almost as magnificent to touch and kiss and view as a man's erected penis. She loved men, was a hedonist when it came to their bodies and genitals, but there were times when the creamy skin and velvety sweetness of another woman was a pleasant variation. Especially of a woman like Lonnie Carmel, who had to be awakened to the full, until now hidden depths of her sexuality. It made it all the more exciting this way.

Lonnie shuddered and almost wept with the tensions which tore through her soul. Cylvia's hand was massaging her breasts -- first one, and then the other -- into concrete hardness, and she could feel her breath coming in short, labored gasps as she twisted against the cushions and attempted to regain her control and put out the fire that was engulfing her loins unmercifully. Her eyes glazed as she looked at the passion-inciting pictures spread in front of her and then at the lascivious manipulations of her friend's cunt beside her. She heard the lewd and lust-enticing entreaties which Cylvia was now murmuring in her ear -- words which she hadn't heard since high school and that were now suddenly exciting as they'd not been then. The trembling, scared housewife pressed her thighs together, pushing her fists into the base of her stomach in one last determined effort to overcome the passions seething inside the cauldren of her body. In her sex and alcohol drugged mind, she knew that she would soon not have any strength to fight off the lust that was tugging at the very core of her quivering being. And she was deathly terrified of the consequences...

Yes; what would be the consequences? What would she do if she was driven to the point where she had to have release? And why was her friend, her very best friend doing this to her? Why was she being driven out of her mind by the twin devils of Cylvia's unrestrained actions and her inner inabilities to control the heathen arousals?

And then Cylvia let her fingers slowly worm their way down the rippling flesh of Lonnie's stomach and over her skirt to her bare legs. The women stroked the upper leg, and tickled the soft flesh of her inner thighs and Lonnie felt her muscles responding with tiny, excited spasms. She desperately tried to wrench herself from the binding forces of her nature, and then as more tantalizing sensations crawled through her belly and swelled her breasts, she found it almost impossible just to sit still.

"No..." she breathed heavily. "You mustn't, Cylvia... you mustn't." But Cylvia was all but insensate from the delirium of her whipping masturbations and the goading of the lovely woman beside her. She wouldn't have stopped for anything, especially for the ever-weakening pleas of the wife she planned to degradate in every way imaginable. This.was only the first course... the main meal was yet to be eaten; the thought alone made Cylvia tighten her fingers around Lonnie's unconsciously parting legs.

"Please, Cylvia..." Lonnie was now desperately fighting herself as much as the other woman. "It isn't right. We're two women. It isn't natural."

"Pleasure is the only thing natural," Cylvia replied thickly. "Everything else are artificial restraints. Or don't you like what I'm doing? Tell me you are sick, repulsed, can't bear to see me ever again. Go on, if you're able. Tell me."

Lonnie couldn't say a word, her voice caught in her throat.

"I thought so. You like it as much as I do, and your cunt's so hot right now that you can't stand it." She grazed the soft material of Lonnie's nylon panties and ran a finger along the secretion band, feeling the soft down and rounded protuberance of the woman's vaginal lips. She slid her finger up and down the silken cloth, much in the same manner as she was fingering her own salacious, carniverous pussy. "You like me rubbing your wet cunt. I can tell it. I can feel the stains in your panties from your hot juices, and the way your sweet pussy lips are twitching. Just the same way they twitch when you fingerfuck yourself when Roger's not around."