Allison bit her bottom lip and sank into the moment.
It was amazing. The sensation of Carla's hair sliding back and forth on her inner thigh sent electric quivers through her body. But nothing could compare to the way the slender woman's tongue felt as it probed every inch of her slit.
Allison was positively dripping now, as Carla focused her attention on her clit. Carla flicked her tongue at the thoroughly-engorged button, like a serpent searching for its prey. The snake was ready to strike at the right opportunity.
The girl had skills. There was no doubt about that. And her oral acrobatics weren't just limited to the bedroom, Allison knew. Carla could talk her way out of - or in this case into - anything. Reveling in the feeling, she thought about the evening's beginnings and about how she had ended up spread wide in the reclined back seat of an Explorer with a co-worker's face in her lap.
* * *
Since she had come to work at the advertising agency, Allison had felt a kinship to Carla. She had run into the petite redhead in the bathroom the first day, as she was straightening her white thigh-high stockings so that the seam in the back ran just right.
There she was, examining herself in the mirror with her skirt up on her hips as Carla walked in. She remembered flushing with embarrassment as she lowered her skirt. But Carla had only said, "I think you got it," and gave her a quick grin.
"Those are great stockings," she had continued. "I wish I had legs like yours."
"Thanks," Allison said, exhaling a sigh of relief as she realized that Carla was being genuine. "Genetics. All the women in my family are tall, with long legs. But I would give anything for your hair. It's great."
From there, the two made introductions and realized they were both working in the domestic advertising division of the agency. Their paths would no doubt cross, so Carla suggested lunch the next day. She had been with the company for a couple of years and promised to show Allison the ropes.
She was doing that now.
* * *
Allison's reverie was broken suddenly, as Carla pulled her head away. The sensation of her ministrations was gone and Allison missed it immediately. No more hot breath on sensitive shaven skin or the searching, yearning tongue.
Carla took Allison's left hand, which had been absentmindedly been twirling the red locks, and placed it on her pussy.
"Keep her warm for me," she said. "I have to get something."
And with that, Carla's upper body dived into the front passenger seat of the Explorer. Allison looked at Carla's ass swaying under her hiked-up plaid "schoolgirl skirt" as she rummaged through her purse. In the darkened parking garage, she could just make out the redhead's vertical lips, glistening in the greenish cast of the far-off lights.
Allison's wasn't the only pussy Carla had been paying attention to. Allison could see that Carla had using her free hand well. Allison would have to make sure she gave that velveteen crevice a good going over later.
But right now, she took Carla's advice and began manipulating her clit with her ring finger, a habit she had picked up early, jilling off to pictures of the New Kids on the Block in middle school, before she even knew the term masturbation. More than a few of her lovers, usually men, had asked about that finger choice - most of their exes opting for the middle finger - but the ring finger just felt right to her.