Chapter 3: Carolina

"You'd better get dressed and go, Sandy. I think I heard the cleaning woman come in."

"Holy shit, did she see us?"

"No, she always starts in the kitchen."

He bent to kiss me, two fingers squirming inside me, diddling my clitoris. I pushed his hand out and got out of bed. He grabbed me again, this time pressing a finger against my anal ring.

Prick!

I slapped his hand and he finally gave up, reaching for his clothing. When we were finally clothed, albeit with me in just a bathrobe, I walked him toward the door. Sandy looked toward the kitchen; Carolina's back was to us as she mopped the floor. He stared at her back for a long time before leaving the apartment.

What the heck was that all about?

"Hello, Carolina. I didn't expect you so early today."

"Hello, Miss Sue. I hope that I didn't disturb anything." She had a knowing grin on her face.

"Why didn't you join us when I invited you?"

Her face hardened. "I don't like that son of a bitch."

"How do you know who it was?"

I saw a bit of a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"He is Mr. Greg's son, no?"

"Yes, but how did you know that?"

"I recognized the scar on his backside."

"When did you ever see his bare ass?"

"One day when you were at work, he came here with Mr. Greg."

I felt my own face redden as I absorbed the implication of her words.

"And you..."

She blushed, then nodded. I had to ask, though I knew the answer.

"And Mr. Greg too?

"Yes."

"Just once?"

She shook her head. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes.

"Every Thursday for two or three months."

'Nothin' could be keener than to be in Carolina in the morrrorrrrnin'. Bastards both of them!

Fooled you on the pronunciation, didn't I?

"Both of them?"

"Always."

"They wanted to do you in your ass, right?"

"One ass fuck, one blowjob, then they switch. The same every week."

"Did they pay you?"

"One hundred each."

"Do they ever make you cum?"

She shook her head. The tears began to cascade.

"They never came near to my pussy. Are you going to fire me, Miss Sue?"

I put my arms around her and began to kiss the tears from her eyes.

"No, Carolina, I think I'm going to fire Mr. Greg."

She looked up in surprise and then her eyes locked on mine. She knew what I had in mind, and from her earlier gestures, she would join in whole-heartedly. Her arms went around me, and our lips met. And held. It took a little while before she tentatively opened her lips and poked out her tongue, like Phil the groundhog, testing the area for sunlight or shadow. My mouth opened instinctively to accept the probe and to allow my own tongue to join the duel, the exploration for each other's tonsils.

My hand pulled the belt of my robe, allowing it to fall open, though the pressure of her body against me held it mostly in place. Her chest pressed against my own, what I judged to be 32A's no match for my 34B's.

Sorry, Kitty my dear pal, but I've never seen such a sexy flat-chested girl in my life.

Her hand reached between us to knead my breasts, and then she bent her head to suck on a nipple. Her teeth joined the battle, pressing down as if she wanted to use the nipple as dental floss. I moaned and she stopped.

"Why'd you stop, Carolina?"

She looked up at me and then the kiss resumed, tongues fully engaged, her warm breath on my face. I put my hands under her top and slowly lifted it over her head, confirming that she wore no bra. As I did so, Carolina opened her jeans and pushed them to the floor, taking the pink panties with them in one motion.

I pulled my head back and took in the sight of her entire body — albeit still wearing her jeans puddled on the floor — in a single glance. Her eyes were the insightful eyes of a young woman; her lips wore a light feminine pink shade; her fingernails, closely cropped, were the same matching pink, little girl style; her pussy was shaved bald, labia glistening with the moisture of womanly lust; her hips flared out, perfect for a woman's main function, delivering babies.

But her breasts were those of a fourteen year old boy.

Well, not quite, for her nipples protruded for a full half-inch.

"Do you like what you see, Miss Sue?" She didn't say it like the victim of a peeping tom, but more coquettishly, appropriate for the foreplay which had spontaneously erupted.

I took her hand and led her toward my bedroom.

"No, Miss Sue, not there."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to go to the same bed where that prick has been. Let's use the guest room."

I was about to say that the guest room hadn't been used all week and that there was no need to mess up another bed. Then I realized what a stupid remark it would have been and I changed directions without a word. The bed there consisted of two twin beds pushed together, so that guests might be conjugal, for adults, or separated, for children. The default setting was together, for carnal pleasures, for people who liked to stay connected.

I truly wanted to know if Greg and Sandy had taken Carolina in the master bedroom or in this room, but I hesitated to ask. Her last remark suggested that they had used her in my bedroom, but she may have just meant that Sandy had been in that room earlier in the day. Then I couldn't hold out any more; I had to ask.

"Did they fuck you in my bedroom?"

"Always."

"Fucking bastards!"

I tore off the covers and threw them onto the floor. Carolina knew that it would be her job to straighten up when we were finished, but she made no complaint. Instead, she knelt on the bed, face down, as though waiting for one of the Nelson men to spread her ass cheeks. Since I was the only other person in the room, I assumed that task, using my hands to pull apart the fleshy globes — it would have been nice if her breasts were that meaty — to make way for my hungry tongue.

She gasped as she felt my wet explorer trying to find its way into the darkness.

"Neither one of them ever did that, did they, Carolina?"

"Never, never. Don't stop."

My tongue returned to where it had never been — with Carolina, I mean — and my fingers worked their way between her legs to attack — what? Not her vagina, not even her pussy; at that moment, my mind thought of that opening simply as her cunt. The fingers first diddled her clit, eliciting moans that wordlessly demanded a continuation. Then I spread her vaginal walls for them, and my lucky digits probed Carolina like a cock. I twisted them and found her g-spot, to be rewarded by a scream and the gush of fluid, soaking my hand, soaking the bed.

I sat back on my heels, looking down at Carolina's loins, centered in a spreading wet stain, smiling inwardly at the thought of her ass damp from her own juices. Her chest, such as it was, rose and fell, a gasping for air brought on by her orgasm. Her pussy lips lay wide open, spread to expose pink inner walls. Her eyes looked at me, through me, focused on infinity. A drop of saliva oozed from one corner of her mouth, and I bent to lick it dry.

Her eyes came back to earth, fixed on mine with a 'thank you' smile and then ventured down to my matted bush, somewhat hidden by my thighs pressed together, but still exposing tangled dark hair hiding my pussy. If she compared it with the hair on my head, she would notice that I dyed that hair; she gave no clue that she saw the difference.

Her hand reached out to touch my pubic hair, fingers curled as though to comb it. Instead, she pulled each strand, one at a time, straightening it. I tensed, waiting for her to pull the hair out, like a child with a daisy, but she had no such evil intentions.

"Lie down, Sue."

Oh, it's no longer Miss Sue? Well, I guess if licked her anus and played with her clit and shoved my fingers into her cunt, she can skip the honorific.

I rolled over next to her, spreading my legs just a bit, quite ladylike, but enough to let her know that I wanted her fingers and mouth to reciprocate. Only first she chose to nurse on me, caressing each breast as her lips sought in vain the milk those babies were made for. Again she used her teeth on my nipples, hard enough to make me moan with pleasure, yet gentle enough for me to allow her to continue.

My hand went between my own legs, my fingers marinating in the liquid of lubrication. I pulled them out and brought them to my mouth, but before I could taste myself, Carolina inhaled deeply, grabbed my wrist and pulled the wet fingers to her own tongue. Her smile was a combination of 'gotcha' and orgasm; she sucked my fingers as though they were someone's penis.

"Who are you thinking of, Carolina?"

"You, Sue, only you."

She was lying but I didn't care. She released my fingers and her mouth moved to mine. As our lips met, her knee pushed between my own, pressing forward until we both were pussy to thigh. She lay atop me, wiggling her hips so that she could masturbate herself on my thigh, and moving her leg so that she would also be masturbating me. I closed my eyes and pulled her body into me.

Will I make her cum first, or will she get me before that?

We rubbed each other slowly, lips firmly connected, parting only to allow the other's tongue to explore tongues, teeth and tonsils in the ancient duel of foreplay.

Is it foreplay if I've already made her cum once? Maybe we should call this stuff intermezzo.

My eyes were closed; I think hers were also. Her right hand caressed my left nipple and the surrounding flesh, treating it like a breast, not just a tit. My hand did the same to her. Despite the absence of that fatty tissue that gives form to the female, that fills out bra and sweater, that gives one of the physical views that distinguishes male from female — clothed, that is; naked its easy to tell — still the softness of her skin, the taste of her lips, the wetness of her pussy rubbing mine, the high pitch of her squeals, I knew that this creature I was making love with was totally woman.

A woman who went both ways, to be sure — as did I. A woman who would suck a cock and take one up the ass — for money, at least. Would she do it for love? Or lust? I didn't know, not then, anyway. But a woman who was willing to ignore the ancient taboos and modern prejudices, a woman who used her knowledge of her own body to know how to make love with another woman, how to please her, how to make another woman forget, at least for the moment, that men and their dangling three-piece sets even exist.