Chapter 3

When Susie got over the embarrassment of having inserted the jiji, it seemed nothing, a tiny firmness in her belly.

Then Rita kicked off and they were swinging.

Susie had not been on a swing since childhood. It seemed a silly thing to do, sitting here in her wood-nymph costume, one rosy-capped white breast exposed, beside Rita in her sarong, gliding back and forth. She smiled tolerantly.

But after the swing had inscribed its third arc she was staring bug-eyed down at her crotch, which had the feeling of bursting open like a melon. But her thighs were firmly together. Inside, something like the throbbing head of a fiercely engorged penis was wobbling insanely about.

She felt clicks, uneven jarrings as the two roller bearings knocked together and against the plastic jiji. The movements were almost imperceptible. She held her breath to not disrupt the rhythm of that inner wobbling, or to calculate it. But there was no rhythm. The lack of one tantalized her until she began to initiate one, forcing down, sucking back. The egg-shaped blob was everywhere and nowhere.

"Give with it, darling," Rita smiled.

Susie gave, found herself prickling all over, her titties heating, every click of the roller bearings sending waves of sensuality rippling to her very fingertips. She gazed at Rita, who seemed transformed, her dark eyes velvety, her lips so glistening red. And desirable! Susie felt a yearning she could not believe. She wanted needed had to kiss her swing partner!

She touched Rita's face. An arm glided about her neck, softly vining. They neared and a tongue tip slipped from those red lips to meet hers. Liquidly their mouths met, flowed into each other. They turned together and a facing breast melted into Susie's exposed one. She felt the hard growth of nipples, could not guess which was hers.

She was lapping at Rita's mouth, inside it, licking her tongue, and oh, the sweet humid warmth oozed through her to her jiji-rocked vagina, as though Rita's tongue had gone right through there and nudged the plastic gadget about!

Never had she imagined that she could enjoy kissing a girl.

They were breathing hard. She whispered, "Rita, you're so sweet to me. I adore you!"

Rita smiled and nuzzled her cheek. Susie fingered her throat, felt up over the girl's neck into that glossy hair, which clung so sensually to her fingers. She caressed it, stroked the nape of her neck.

The jiji seemed to wallow in an oil bath, every movement softer and less predictable than the one before. It was a hundred times more feminine and gentle than a throbbing penis, yet in its mild way frantically exciting.

Susie was exploring, fingering Rita's velvety cheek, the curl and turn of her ear, each movement a slow, voluptuous adventure. And when her fingers walked downward onto the swell of firm breast it seemed quite natural to stroke the smooth orb, circling it, then finding the center, the rubbery areola as big as her palm and the rigid protrusion of the nipple.

She forked her fingers on it, squeezed, held on for Rita was kissing her throat and the soft, wet mouth sent fiery waves fanning through her flesh.

Rita murmured, "I burn you with my kisses, my love."

Susie had once read the line, a bit from the Song of Bilitis, the love poems of Sappho of Lesbos.

She whispered, "But Rita, I'm not Lesbian. Am I?"

"You are my wood-nymph sweetheart."

Fingers brushed at Susie's shoulder. The gauzy material slid down her arm and a palm descended her now-bare left breast and sleekly crossed her stiff nipple.

Moaning with pleasure, she squeezed Rita in closer, and whispered, "If I'm your sweetheart then aren't we Lesbians, Rita?"

"Do you want to be?"

"Why, you see, I never thought about it. I mean, can I be something I'm not?"

"Here at the Pageant we think you can find what different things you are, and make each one beautiful, something to be proud of. I love you and I can love a man, and love myself, which people say amounts to narcissism, and its act is called masturbation. But masturbation can be proud and beautiful."

Susie reflected on this. "I'm quite confused, Rita."

"Yes, sweetheart, because you thought sex was just a man pronging your hole. That's why in a moment I am going to leave you here to study yourself, discover the effect of Kashmir Karma tea dissolving your hangups and wetting your pussy, swinging your jiji, while you face up to a Susie you may not have known."

"Don't leave me!"

"Trust me, sweetheart. Now kiss me, and fondle my breast and I'll swing through a cum, then go take care of some kitchen things."

Susie felt tears in her eyes. Clinging to Rita like this, she had hopes that Lesbianism would be a simple answer, a perversion she had never suspected but which might explain her unhappy relations with her husband. Now Rita hinted that the cause of her ecstasy was Kashmir Karma and the jiji rather than mere lust for another female.

Their mouths met, squashily sucking, and oh the thrill of licking her lover's slippery tongue! And clutching her big, firm breast, feeling the huge nipple bore at her palm. Rita kicked the swing high and as they lurched downward through the arc the jiji in Susie's vagina seemed to turn end over end in bubbly hot froth, yummy delicious, sweet thrill far short of orgasm but really just as good.

Then Rita's tongue shot into her mouth, and the girl moaned, stiffened, writhed, flung about the seat.

"MY cum-m-m!" she moaned. "There, I've cum, oh my sweetest lollipop I've cum in your arms, dear wood-nymph Susie!"

Spasms shook her to a jelly within Susie's embrace.

Rita had sprawled against her, panting, for some moments.

Then the girl slid from her grasp, off the swing. She retied her sarong. The way her dark nipples jutted, Susie thought them like thumbs.

Rita went to the hall door, which stood open, and Susie, on noticing that, thought, Goodness, anyone could have looked in and seen us!

Rita said, "I'll close the door. The back is a mirror. I want you to look at yourself, and perhaps you'll see what I see."

Her lips formed a kiss. She touched two fingers to it and tossed them at Susie, then went out, shutting the door behind her.

The door was broad, the mirror large enough to show the whole double swing. Susie closed her eyes, not wanting to look at herself. She wriggled to the center of the swing and pushed back, let herself go while concentrating on the moving little egg shape buried in her belly.

It clicked, wobbled, swam about in the frothy juice, and from it gentle waves of heat seeped throughout her body. She smiled. How gently exciting! Yes, it was rather like the head of a penis throbbing inside her.