The kiss went on while they squirmed their bellies against each other, two sets of silken skin slithering and glissading together, seeming to throw off sparks as they continued their passionate hula.

Meanwhile Helen did not have to tell Cleo to slide her hands beneath her panties and feel and rub and soothe and squeeze the buttocks. Cleo even knew how to make tiny pinches back there. It didn't hurt. It stimulated the undulating waves of torrid need that swept Helen from head to toe.

She got her own hold on Cleo's ass cheeks and felt her partner's ass muscles, which were certainly in good condition, quiver in little spasms of delight.

Cleo murmured, "Darling, you have such a lovely touch. Go – you know – in between."

Slowly, letting her fingernails slightly indent the petal-smooth skin, Helen ran her fingers to the cleft of the buttocks and then pushed between with her forefinger extended.

When she found the tight bumhole she rubbed it very gently. Which Cleo now did to her at the same time, and they began to thrust their bushes together to make one Mount of Venus hit against the other, in a fucking sort of motion.

In their wild delight they collapsed upon the bed.

"I… I'm not sure what to do now, my lover," Cleo whispered into Helen's ear. Then she kissed the ear all over its inside and nipped at the lobe and tongued it. But this is a hot-pash item both with men and women. It worked on Helen and she dived at Cleo's bush, nosed her way between the silken thighs, took one long, salty, sweet, gluppy, delicious, wide-mouthed, hungry suck at the man in the boat, then remembered a technique she had learned in the girls locker room in high school.