Why not make it last? They might have no other chance to get together again, and Helen still had an hour or more left of her off-duty break. And beside, Cleo was so good to taste and so exciting to be tasted by, and so altogether wonderful in her strange, almost little girlish mixture of knowledge and ignorance – but always eager willingness – in the field of sex in which women turn their backs on the prick and the balls and find ways to hotly satisfy each other.

She lifted one of Cleo's feet and kissed the high arch, tongued it ticklishly, then roguishly took it to her own crotch and worked the big toe up and down her cunny. Then she sucked her own juices from the big toe. Not everyone knows the erogenous use of toe-sucking.

Cleo gasped and murmured, "Oh, my darling, my darling, what are you doing to me, ooooh, oh!" She held her own cunt tightly as though to keep it from melting into a pool of nearly-unbearable sensation.

Now Helen kissed and sucked the other toes. Then the ankles. Then, slowly, she made tiny kisses up the calf and paused to run her tongue along the sensitive area behind the knee. She made a little slapper of her tongue and slapped it wetly at the nerve center behind the knee.

"Ohhhh, you'll drive me mad. More, more!" moaned Cleo, pumping her hips in ecstasy.

Helen got Cleo to bend her knee upward. This exposed the tender pinkness of her inner thigh. Helen murmured over its svelte curves and whispered that no man was good enough to possess Cleo's delightful body.

Now her tongue found the thigh and drew along it, upward, upward, leaving a trail of passionate tremblings. It was as though Helen were drawing little tongue-paths up the thigh in the direction of the throbbing cunt that was her goal.

As she came within an inch of the cunt, well into its aura of exciting aroma, Cleo took her hands away and sighed, "It's yours, it's yours!"