Out Of Peoria Ch 05

Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 5: An equally kinky night!

It was far past midnight and one by one, with final kisses, the girls who lived upstairs retired to the bedroom. Lynda and I where finally alone.

“You know, you have a gorgeous body,” Lynda said, setting down her drink.

“Thank you,” said I. “You are rather well off in that department yourself!”

Lynda looked at me with a slight twinkle in her eye. She didn’t beat about the bush! “Well let’s see if mine does for you what yours does for me!”

And so saying she set herself next to me on the couch and began stroking my breasts gently. I responded in kind and we ran our fingertips over each other, moving ever closer. Lynda’s thighs parted invitingly. Mine too and I felt a sudden thrill as my forefinger detected the moisture that was already emanating from Lynda’s pussy. I found suddenly that I also was very moist and highly aroused. I mirrored Lynda’s stimulation, sliding my forefinger around her pussy lips in a circular motion, increasing the pressure incrementally as the juices flowed from inside of her.

We began to kiss, more and more passionately and in a way that I had never kissed before. As our tongues entwined I felt Lynda’s finger ease my pussy lips apart and enter my cunt, always with that circular motion, exploring, expanding, entering, exiting; around, in, out, around, ever deeper. I, the novice, wanting to move further, faster, Lynda, the experienced, holding me back, keeping the motion gentle, slow, incremental. Mouths entwined, we explored every millimeter of our vulvas, sliding a finger slowly upwards to our clits, back to the vagina, back up to circle the clit with agonizing slowness, further up to stroke the sides of the clit hood, back to the vagina, penetrating deeper, spreading copiously flowing cunt juices all around our vulvas.

Our bodies began to jerk involuntarily as we approached orgasm. Again, I, the novice, impatient, Lynda, the experienced, holding me back, maintaining that state of pre-orgasmic bliss that I had never known before existed. How long we remained in this state of grace I could not say. Inevitably, unable to hold back my own reaction to even the most sensitive stimulus, I was the first to boil over, engulfed in orgasmic spasms that seemed to start deep within me and erupt to encompass my entire body, which shook and heaved involuntarily in wave after wave of ecstasy that would not cease.

Indeed, it did not cease! The moment my thighs re-opened as I collapsed back on the couch, Lynda moved down and began to stimulate my still pulsating clit with her tongue. Always gentle, never impatient, Lynda’s tongue explored my cunt lips, cunt and clit, keeping me on that high elysian plane of sexual ecstasy until I felt again those involuntarily spasms engulf me. For a second time I convulsed in orgasm, more intense even than the first, and even then Lynda’s tongue did not cease its exploration, and did not until I was truly fully and completely spent. I believe I actually blacked out, collapsed on the couch, limp, incapable of movement, rational thought, word or deed.

When I came to, Lynda was smoking what I assumed was a cigarette (though I later realized it was something a little stronger!). Her legs were apart and her cunt, still glistening gleamed out at me. She was stroking it gently with a careless forefinger, circling her cunt lips then opening them and sliding her finger up and down her slit in endless repetition.

“ Quite a little tiger, aren’t you,” she said with a smile.

Still woozy, all I could utter was a grunt of sorts. There was a short silence. My eyes were riveted on Lynda’s cunt as though mesmerized.

Lynda continued, “I do believe you didn’t know you are a lesbian?”

This came right out of the blue and shook me well and truly out of my stupor.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“What I said,” Lynda replied. “I don’t think you knew you are a lesbian.”

Suddenly I was fully cogniscent! Everything my mid-west upbringing had instilled in me rebelled immediately to the thought and my instinct was to retort “I’m not a lesbian!” However, the facts on the ground gave me pause. Eventually I said,

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s rather obvious, dear, don’t you think? Don’t be offended. There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. It’s just the way you are made.”

I was utterly lost for words. Lynda continued,

“You’ve surely noticed,” she said, “that you are turned on by the female body. I spotted it immediately I saw you in the dressing room, the way you looked at the girls. You just have not made the obvious connection.”

“And look at you now,” she continued coquettishly using two fingers to widen her slit. “You can’t keep your eyes off it, can you!”

What use was it to point out that in the mid-west you were not allowed even to utter the word “lesbian”, let alone own up to being one!

“Lynda, you have me confused,” I said. “Where I grew up the very word ‘lesbian’ is never uttered. There are women and there are men, and that’s about it.”

“Oh tell me about it,” Lynda sighed. “There is so much ignorance, and prejudice. But take my word for it. You are a lesbian. You just need to admit it to yourself and your life will be so much the better for it. Look…” she drew attention to her glistening body and her glittering vulva and inserted two fingers deep into her cunt. In and out. Around the edges, up to the clit and back in and out. “Tell me this does not turn you on.”

I had to admit to myself that it did, but it was too sudden. I was not quite ready.

“But if I am a lesbian,” I said, “how come I enjoy sex so much with men?”

“Oh come now,” Lynda said, admonishingly. “Any woman can provide sex for a man. I get turned on myself by the sight of a stiff cock and occasionally I orgasm when it pounds in and out of me. But it’s rare unless there are girls around. It’s the sight of the girls enjoying themselves that really puts me over the top. Ask yourself, how often have you come with a man in a one-on-one”

I was still thinking about this when Lynda continued

“Anyway, I bet you never came with a man when he is doing what he wants, unless of course it is also what you want. That’s the key. It’s not what the man wants, it’s what you want! And you want me, don’t you. You want me more than you have ever wanted any man. Have you ever come like you just did with a man?”

I remained silent, because she was right. I thought of the session I had had with Jane and Alicia, ending in my first real orgasm, and I realized that this also was on a different plane from the sex I had had with men. I had assumed my lack of interest in sex with my ex-husband was because he was such a jerk, but I had to admit that I had never really been ‘sexually involved’ with a man, not in the sense I had just been involved with Lynda, not even with Alex, who I had fucked for hours!

Lynda filled the silence. “Well you don’t need to give it a name if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but my bet is you find this ..” again she drew attention to her cunt “quite attractive. And, unless I am very much mistaken, you owe me at least three orgasms! Shall we begin?”

I could not quibble on the three orgasms. In fact, it had seemed like one continuous, orgasm that lasted about an hour! And whether I was a lesbian or not, I needed no second invitation to administer to that gorgeous glistening cunt. In no time flat I was licking and sucking on Lynda’s cunt and clit as if there were no tomorrow! And she was vocal in her enjoyment of it. We were both in seventh heaven. But whatever I did to Lynda, whether with tongue, finger, fingernails or teeth, though she seemed continuously close, I could not bring her to orgasm.

After an age, Lynda said,

“Darling, you are doing wonderfully. However, maybe we should move up a notch?”

Of course I had no idea what she meant, but by this time I was completely under her spell.

Lynda directed my attention to a drawer on the underside of the plinth at the center for the room, where we had serviced the Guests. Inside I found a variety of instruments, and in particular the ‘pussy whip’ Lynda nodded was what she had in mind. It was short and had a thick, leather thong.

“Perfect,” was Lynda’s comment.

She sat on the couch with her legs splayed so that her cunt was fully exposed.

“Ten strokes on the right lip, ten on the left, and let’s take it from there” was her comment. “Make sure you don’t miss! That thing can mark your thigh for a month!”

Of course I was horrified. But as I said, I was under Lynda’s spell and whatever she asked me to do I was going to do.

I began tentatively, aiming the whip at the right cunt lip and trying hard not to ‘miss’, as instructed. But Lynda was scathing in her response.

“That’s no way to whip a cunt,” she said scornfully. “Give it some gas. It needs to hurt.”

And so I increased the force of the stroke, more and more until Lynda was reduced to grunting rather than protesting. Ten on the right, ten on the left. Then lick, suck, fingers, nails. There was no denying Lynda was responding.

“Ten more on each side,” she panted.

And as I complied, I found somewhat to my horror, that I was enjoying whipping that cunt and my strokes became more and more ferocious. I would whip Lynda into submission.

“Jeez! That was better! Now you’re getting it!” was Lynda’s comment as I got done and started again licking, fingering and sucking the aroused flesh of her vagina. Her pussy lips were now bright red and engorged.

“Now spread them and ten right up the middle,” Lynda said, her tone suggesting urgency.

Again I obeyed. I spread her cunt lips apart and laid the whip hard right down her cleft so that the thick thong of the whip almost entered her vagina and the tip struck her clit. I increased the force with every stroke, encouraged by Lynda’s grunts and cries. When I was done, Lynda was squirming with pain, though undoubtedly pleasure too.

“Now tongue the clit,” she stuttered through clenched teeth.

And sure enough, a few minutes of clit tonguing had that gorgeous torso shaking with the onset of orgasm. And it kept on shaking, and on and on! I sucked her clit deep into my mouth and out again, working the soft flesh with my teeth. And did not let go until she was fully spent and had collapsed back on the couch, comatose.

When she recovered, Lynda said,

“Bet you enjoyed that almost as much as I did!”

And I had to admit she was not far wrong! Again I felt almost like pinching myself to ensure this was real. Until recently anticipating life as a staid ‘homemaker’, I had just administered a serious cunt-whipping to a confessed lesbian, one who obviously thought I also was one, and, Yes! I had enjoyed it. What did that say about me? Was I not only a lesbian but a sadist as well!?

“Not at all,” Lynda replied to my inquiry. “You were administering pleasure. Your pleasure was in giving me pleasure. Think of it this way, would you have continued if I had said stop?”

And I had to agree with her. I would have course not have continued if she had asked me to stop. Nevertheless, the pleasure I had felt administering pain was disquieting.

Mischievously, Lynda thrust her hand between my legs.

“As I thought,” she said. “Hand me that whip!”

“But..but,” I stammered, desperately “I owe you two more orgasms!”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lynda replied. “I’ll get my pleasure as you got yours! Get up on that couch and open your legs --- very wide!”

Of course, Lynda was much more expert with the whip than I was. Where I had laid on strokes separated by seconds, Lynda laid them on separated by minutes. In between strokes she would caress my breasts, nipples, cunt, clit with her tongue and gentle fingers, and would even kiss me passionately and whisper in my ear exactly how I would feel as the next stroke of the whip bit into my vulva. She increased the level of pain incrementally from a mild “tingling” to true agony. But an agony exquisitely suffused with sexual pleasure.

I have no idea how long Lynda strung out the whipping of my cunt and clit, only that it seemed like an eternity, one that I fervently wished would end in a crushing orgasm, but yet wished would never end. I was in a trance where body and mind combined focused themselves solely on sensation, sexual sensation. Lynda taught me that night how close together pain and pleasure can be, and she finished me off with an orgasm of supreme intensity that was hard on the border between pain, pleasure, relief and release.

“God, you are gorgeous,” I heard Lynda say as I re-emerged into the real world. “And so refreshing.”

She was smoking another ‘cigarette’ and, again, legs splayed, playing with her cunt, its lips swollen and reddened from the whipping.

Without speaking I moved towards her and buried my head between her thighs. I was learning Lynda’s technique of combining gentle flicks of the tongue with nibbling and biting, inserting fingers into her cunt until they were thoroughly wet with her juices and then using the moisture to stimulate the tip of her prominent and fully swollen clit. Her moans and groans indicated her pleasure and I understood how the whipping of her cunt had served to increase sensitivity.

My own level of arousal increased with Lynda’s and I repositioned myself on the couch so she could stimulate me. The feel of her rough tongue on my own swollen pussy lips pulsed through me like an electric charge. We stimulated each other ferociously in the “69” position with me on top, then rolled over so that Lynda was on top, and back again. And this time no external aid was necessary. Our orgasms were violent, noisy and mutual.

“A tiger indeed!” was Lynda’s comment after we had disentangled and regained some semblance of composure. “You learn fast!”

“I have an excellent teacher,” I replied.

Passions were, for the moment, spent and we were able to talk more normally. Lynda told me something of herself. She confirmed Jane’s assertion that ‘upstairs’ regularly entertained gentlemen: “..of distinction, you understand’.

“We do them any way they like --- within bounds that is. It’s amazing what turns men on. Call me a whore if you like, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Never have. Never will. If you’ve got it, use it! And go to the bank regularly! I won’t have a body like this for ever. ”

“But if you’re a lesbian, how can you enjoy sex with men?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘enjoy’, though some men are remarkable sensitive. It’s their pleasure that turns me on. I especially like making them squirm, beg for release. Some men love to be teased. You can keep them going for hours once you learn a few tricks. And it’s all good money in the bank. Patty and I often do them together and sometimes we all join in. There’s nothing turns a man on more than having multiple women working his cock. We really love doing that, though for reasons the guys do not suspect. Imagine, you can get someone to pay you big bucks for providing you with an unwitting instrument of foreplay! Patty gets monumentally turned on when we work as a duo, and you can imagine what that means for later on! Guests just love it. They think we are putting on ‘a show’ designed for their pleasure. It does sound strange, I know, but watching Patty straddle a guy --- she does this very well, as you may have noticed --- turns me on like hell!”

Patty aka “Will ‘o the Wisp”, was, I had gathered, Lynda’s regular partner.

“…Though of course we have an agreement. We are both free to have our ‘little bit’ on the side.”

This remark turned me off rather effectively! I suppose it was the intensity of our session that made me think I was something special. To hear myself characterized as a ‘little bit on the side’ was something of a dampener, to say the least! However, when I look back on it, that remark of Lynda’s came just at the right time. She had sensed that I could become emotionally involved with her in a way she did not want. She had her current partner and although she obviously enjoyed me immensely, this did not mean she was about to give up her emotional tie with Patty.

“Maybe you’d like to try a threesome sometime, with Patty?” Lynda said, confirming what was going through my head.

“Maybe,” I replied, but cautiously. “But first I have to think about some things. “

To put it mildly, the revelations of that night required me to pause and think hard and deeply about myself, my sexuality and what this meant for my future. My night with Lynda was indeed a “one-night-stand”, one to remember, but it was also a watershed in my own life.

We said our goodbyes, and kissed affectionately.

“It was a wonderful night,” Lynda said. “I knew it would be the moment I set eyes on you.”

Foremost in my mind as, still in a daze, I encountered the dawn on descending the stairs and returning to my own quarters was the question “Was I really a lesbian?”.

Letting myself into the apartment as quietly as I could I immediately encountered Alex raiding the ice-box. To my surprise, I was still full of desire and the poor guy must be wondering to this day at the alacrity with which I shed my dress, knelt at his feet and started sucking on his cock. This was limp and it took me an age to get him half way stiff. I led him over to the couch, motioning silence --- house rules discouraged sex in the living room --- and continued sucking, stroking and wanking him until his erection was secure. Then I climbed up on the couch and rode him hard, banging his cock into my cunt, still dripping with the juices of desire, pounding his groin into the rawness of my thoroughly whipped flesh. I rode him like a dervish, as one possessed. Oh No, I was no lesbian! Look at me, fucking this man. I love it, I love it, I love it.

Certainly, I could fuck a man, and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him. I rammed myself up and down on Alex until I was covered in sweat and even he was panting with the effort of resisting my thrusts. Alex had stamina, but even he could not withstand the ferociousness with which I banged him for long enough. As I felt the warmness of his cum enter me I simulated an orgasm, but did not come. For all his stamina, Alex was spent, and I was not. I had done the one-on-one test, and failed it.

Brushing his lips in a brief kiss, I excused myself silently and retired to the sleeping room. I needed time to myself.

Once there though, showered, and safe and secure under a duvet, I still could not rest. My hand strayed between my legs to that still wet cunt and I masturbated, coming instantly, though thinking not of Alex or of any man, but of Lynda. I masturbated twice more before sleep overcame me and I remember thinking there and then that Lynda’s blanket assertion that I was a lesbian may not be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But there was something to it all the same.