Lesbian Pulp Fiction. Katherine Forrest V.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      For many minutes they lay side by side, Peggy curled up, her hand resting affectionately on Beth’s breast. After a time, she felt Beth’s nipple alive again in her palm.

      “Oh, Beth, you do want me don’t you? You didn’t mind my being a little rough—”

      “No, dear. I understand about that.” She drew Peggy’s hand away from her breast, raised it to her lips and kissed the fingers.

      “Beth,” whispered Peggy, eyes shining, “it’s your turn now. Do everything. Teach me all about what lesbians do.”

      The nurse could not help smiling at Peggy’s ingenuous eagerness. She sat up. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You’re a hussy. A shameless hussy.”

      “A delicious hussy! Try me.”

      Beth bent breathlessly to minister to Peggy, who now was the one lying supinely on the bed.

      But unlike the prior wooing of the younger girl, the attentions of Beth seemed deliberately void of fondling, of stroking, of any bodily contact at all, save that established by the nurse’s fragrant, tender kisses. First they were devoted to Peggy’s mouth, sucked and savored like a crushed red berry under Beth’s lips, probed and wickedly eased by Beth’s flicking tongue.

      Then the lips nibbled delicately at Peggy’s earlobe, sending the softest of sensations coursing through the girl, sensations building and broadening as the nurse kissed her neck, her shoulders—and then, as Peggy stiffened in taut response, her passion-swollen breasts. Each nipple was moistly enfolded, wetly warmed. Beth’s lips artfully tormented. The tip of her tongue rasped and tweaked. Then when Peggy thought she could stand this cruel titillation no longer, when she thought her bosom was about to burst with bliss and she pleaded for mercy, for respite, Beth’s mouth moved on.

      Peggy felt the brush of Beth’s cheek on her navel. She flamed as Beth’s hair trailed a prickling caress along the sensitive skin of the torso. “Damn it, Beth. Please,” she pleaded, as Beth had pleaded before. “Oh, please, Beth!” Beth kissed on. Her lips were wet and lined with silk. Her tongue fluttered like a butterfly…

      Later—much later—when the heavy breathing of the two unclad forms on the bed had quieted to normal, when only the sounds of the night were to be heard in the room—the crickets’ chirping, the rustling of the warm night breeze, the trees, the soft lapping from the lakeshore—Peggy spoke up. “People are an education, all right.” Beth shifted, propped herself on an elbow.

      “I hope by the end of the summer you’ll have learned more than that from me,” she said.

      Peggy lay against the coolness of the fluffy pillow, her blond hair rumpled, her eyes closed. A look of complete satisfaction etched her face.

      “I’ve learned enough for two summers,” she murmured, but on opening her eyes to look at Beth, she noted the gravity of the woman’s expression. She said, “I hope you know what I mean, Beth. I’ve learned what happiness is.”

      Beth said nothing, nor did her face become less grave. Her eyes bored into Peggy, studying her, weighing her, and—so Peggy felt—accusing her.

      “Look,” Peggy burst out, “none of this is anyone’s fault. And we—we enjoyed it, didn’t we”?

      “Too much, maybe. Peggy, don’t you realize you may be marking yourself for life? Don’t you think you should make some effort to fight it?”

      “Oh, if it will make you feel any better,” Peggy retorted, “I’ll go with Kirby the next time he asks.”

      “Promise?”

      Exasperated, Peggy said, “I promise.” And then, with a grin: “Always worrying about me, aren’t you?”

      “Always,” Beth answered.

      “Well, don’t. This is my off time. I don’t have to show up at my bunk until morning.”

      Beth moved closer. Kirby and everything else were forgotten for the remainder of the night.

       These Curious Pleasures

      by Sloane Britain

       Ravaged by three men…she sought the tenderness of love in another woman

      They were celebrating the filming of a new TV show…and Allison’s debut as a star. The party was wild and drunken…then it got out of hand and Allison found herself in the bedroom with three men…one held her, one stripped her…and they all raped her.

      It was then that Allison turned to Sloane for affection…and gratefully entered the forbidden world of lesbian love.

      This novel examines that love with provocative understanding and insight.

      These Curious Pleasures

      Allison was a big help. She thought my idea about getting zonked a splendid one. We bought enough booze to float the Saratoga, set it up with ice, glasses, etc. on the sideboard and proceeded to goof it up. I was half-drunk already from not sleeping and the firewater finished the job. Allison got loaded for the first time since I had met her. She was even more adorable that way. Maybe I thought so because in the condition I was in the view from left field made almost everything look good. Like I was digging her the most. It matters why?

      While I could still articulate, I told her about what had happened. Not only that day, I filled her in on all the smut I had learned about during the preceding six months.

      When I finished, Allison said, “Now I know who killed Cock Robin.”

      “Who?”

      “Happy Broadman. He didn’t do it himself, of course. He made Cinderella do it by hitting him with her glass slipper. Then, when she married the Prince, Happy was the caterer for the reception. The Prince and Cinderella had a baby boy named Twinkletoes. Happy had a contract with them so they had to let him perform the circumcision. He used a serpent’s tooth instead of a knife so the child was traumatized and grew up to be Rumplestilskin.”

      “Brother, you’re gone, my love. Like way out. Before you lose contact altogether, what about helping me decide what to do?”

      “That’s simple, come to California with me.”

      “Whether or not I go to California with you will be decided independent of my employment status. The question is, for the sake of argument presuming that I’m going to keep living and working in New York, should I quit my present job?”

      “I refuse to accept the basic premise. Therefore, I can’t help you decide. I will not even think of your staying in New York. You’re coming to California.”

      “Dictating to me again?”

      “No, using Pavlovian conditioning. I figure that if I repeat it often СКАЧАТЬ