She approached Helen's nipple in the suck-off style, with her lips drawn over her teeth. When she had the enticed, erect nipple between her lips, it gave Helen only half the sensation she had tremblingly expected. She wanted moisture. She wanted tongue.

While Carlotta let Helen go on wanting a wet nipple, she released the other breast and glided her hand down Helen's belly into the bush. She combed the bush with her fingers, and this sent a delighted shiver through Helen's body.

Carlotta touched the cunt, below; once, twice, three times, each time lingering longer while her lips continued their odd, drawn-down exploration of Helen's nipple.

All at once, Carlotta grabbed Helen's cunt and at the same time opened her mouth wide and took the nipple and the corolla and more into her wide open mouth that flooded with moisture.

Helen made a small, soft, delighted shriek.

She didn't expect what happened then.

Carlotta hooked a finger into her cunt and drew her along that way.

It didn't hurt. It didn't not-hurt. It hurt just a bit, just enough to be exciting. The finger had its grip merely in the outer lips, resting against the clitoris. Helen could have gotten away. But why? Smiling in tender wonder, she allowed Carlotta to draw her along as though she were an Indian maiden led along by the Incan hook made of twisted feathers that could tickle a girl almost into madness before they sat her upon the stone lingam for her defloration.

Helen didn't know all that. She only knew she was having a wonderful time. And that her much abused cunt, signaled to expect an orgasm, was responding with heat, juice, and a delightful aroma.

They sat upon the bed and engaged in tongue writhing soul kisses and rubbed each other's pussies.

They fell back on the bed, stretched out together, excited, contented, more excited than contented.