But Helen teased her, going down to the top of the knee again. Cleo cried, "Please, please!" and opened her cunt lips with both hands to show Helen the inviting interior, all moist pink and proclaiming its deliciousness. But Helen once again drew her tongue very, very slowly up the thigh along a different path.

She watched that yummy cunt. She rejoiced in its spasms, and saw how the fuck tunnel watched her, so wet with female sex secretions the very basis of her own on-duty perfume – that it seemed almost like a weeping eye.

She wanted desperately to fling herself upon that cunt, mouth-wide open, tongue protruding, and tongue-fuck Cleo, going like a jackhammer, till her lover screamed and beat her fists on the bed and pumped her hips wildly and came.

But still Helen held back. A quarter-inch at a time, she drew that second trail of passion up Cleo's inner leg, savoring it, letting the other woman know something about the wild passions that women used to give each other in the ancient Isles of Greece and still do today.

Cleo begged her, "Take my cunt, take it, take it, I can't bear this any more!"

But Helen intended once again to travel her cunt aspiring way to within an inch of its musky moist sticky goal. Then again she would go back to the lower thigh. And again she would tease and cajole Cleo into an exquisitely tuned yearning. And only then would she plunge her face into that desperate crotch.

But suddenly Cleo grabbed her by the hair, yanked Helen's face to her cunt, and with surprising strength slammed her mouth and nose down into it. Helen couldn't breathe! Gamely she thrust her tongue down the tunnel as far as it would go and hoped Cleo would come before she fainted.

And fortunately she had already brought Cleo to the threshold of wild climax. Her tongue seemed to feel how the nerves took fire in all the sensitive area of Cleo's cunt. Cleo bucked so hard when the great spasm of sexual delight took hold of her, that she bucked Helen's head away from her crotch.