Clitting

There was a sequel to 'Mergin,' for not many days after the newly un-virginal Jennifer and rejoicing Dulcinda had left, hand in hand, a newcomer came into the gallery and hovered just inside the door.

A woman, holding under her arm a large, newspaper-wrapped rectangular bundle, probably containing pictures to show me. Dressed in a loose black tracksuit, she was about my height but much bulkier, and she seemed nervous, eyes darting round the walls, feet shifting about restlessly, I thought she might even be suffering some emotional crisis.

To try and set her at ease I left my desk and walked over, offering my hand, with 'Can I help you? Perhaps you want to show me some work?'

Avoiding my eyes, she gave my hand a powerful squeeze and asked in a husky voice, 'Are you Norma Jane? OK, well, yes, I'd like to show you some...I think they're the kind of thing...' Was the ' kind of thing' implying disapproval or was the tone from the nerves?

She stripped the paper and dumped a stretchered canvas onto the easel I keep available. Then turned away from it, and from me, as if ashamed to acknowledge the picture. Which I at once admired as much for its treatment as its subject. For the outer areas were deliberately fuzzy, and, as the gaze progressed inwards, the focus became sharper. Round the edges, outlines of bedroom furniture were merely sketched, and hardly coloured-in. The next inward zone showed two women's heads at either side, their features indistinct. And as the scrutiny travelled towards the centre, down their bodies, first their breasts were less impressionistic, and, at the centre, their pudenda were finely detailed.

The women were lying back towards each end of a bed, propped on their elbows. The legs of the smaller were open over the open legs of the larger, so that their genitalia were evidently in contact above bottoms pressed together. Their heads were thrown back, suggesting extreme excitement or satisfaction. The pubic hair was abundant, but did not conceal the clitorises peeping from the upper end of the vulvae.

More elements became visible as one continued to look. For instance, the right-hand woman was pale skinned, light-haired, her fuzz pale brown. Her breasts were little cones with large nipples. The other, swarthy, woman was much larger in every way. Her breasts were huge and rather floppy, her bottom so much bigger that her lover was having to lift her hips to keep the vulval contact.

A suspicion was growing that these two were drawn from life, especially as the artist was a large, very dark woman, with an expansive bosom.

Without waiting for any comment, she banged the next canvass onto the easel and stood aside. Now the scene was a close-up, from a viewpoint above and slightly aside from the pudenda. The detail of these was reminiscent of Courbet's Origin of the World or Clement Freud's nudes. But it was verging on fantasy, for the inner lips were clamped in a passionate kiss. That is the only way to describe it. The labia were glued together, apparently sucking each other's nectar. There was even of liquid along the join, and thin streams of it were running down the outer lips and into the bum-cleavage.

This description cannot convey the overall impression that the couple's whole beings were fused in that vulval osculation. It made me think of the mating of birds, their openings touched together as the sperm transfers. But in this labial copulation the transfer of amatory fluid was mutual. You could sense how each pussy-mouth was imbibing elixir from the other.

The erect clitorises were touching, also kissing in effect, lapped in a glistening glaze, reminding me of another natural mating, two snails exchanging sperm in a froth of slime.

Despite years of viewing erotic art, I was aroused by these works, moved by the obvious passion and by a subtly conveyed sense that the smaller woman was paying tribute to, or obliging, the larger. She, the swarthy woman, appeared tenser, ecstatic but desperate, already anticipating the orgasm's end and inevitable separation.

Now convinced that I was seeing a semi-abstracted reality, I waited for the artist to speak, but she remained silent, while, at last, looking into my face, with such intensity, even misery, that I was hard put not to flinch. My encouraging comment died on my lips, as she said, in her husky voice, but in a challenging tone, 'Well, what d'you think, then?'

I said, 'I think your name is Tracy and you're showing the end of the affair. And what you feel about it.'

Her whole body drooped and she said quietly, 'Yeah. I'm poor old Trace, the disgrace, fallen from grace. The dyke women don't like, every bloke's bike.'

'Your paintings are brilliant,' I said, 'But the mixing of joy and pain is so intense I can hardly bear it.'

'But will you buy them?' she demanded abruptly. 'I really need the money.'

'Yes, I will, and any more you can do, though I suggest you use other subjects.'

'OK. Womansex all right? There's this little one here.' And she drew a last, small, item from the newspaper and passed it to me.

About a foot square, divided diagonally, it showed an enormous, purple-headed clitoris about to enter a tiny, pale pink vulva. In the other half, the clitoris has buried itself in the frilly folds, and a long thin, pale, rigid clitoris is emerging from the crease below them.

'I'm a clitty kitty,' Tracy said, and aggressively, 'But you know that, don't you?'

'I think you blame me for losing Jennifer, Tracy,' I said.

'Well, yeah. After coming here, she didn't want to fuck any more. She was all into that teacher she was shagging.'

'That was always going to happen, you know.'

'Yeah. I know. She only ever did it with me because she was sorry for me. I knew that. But I loved her so much. I wanted us so much to be together.'

Her voice broke and I took her in my arms to sob against my shoulder. 'I'm so sorry,' I said, hugging her hard, my hand behind her head. 'I knew you loved her before I saw the pictures. I wish I could comfort you.'

Her sobbing increased. She began to shake, and muttered something into my neck.

'I didn't quite...did you say I could help?'

She lifted her head away and said, 'Yeah, you could. You could...You did with Jen.'

'Are you sure you want that? I don't think I'm going to fall in love with you, and I don't think you'll fall in love with me. It'd just be friendly sex, all right?'

'Yeah. OK. I'm pretty desperate.'

'I think you've got a lovely body under that ghastly tracksuit,' I said, 'And I really want to take that off and prove it.'

'Nah. It's fat, great big squashy boobs and vast great flabby arse. And my pussy is all loose and sloppy.'

'If it's anything like you've painted it, I'm longing to bury my face in it. It looks scrumptious for kissing, and we can do plenty of clitting, no problem.'

'Are you sure you want to do it?' she asked. 'You don't have to take pity on me, like Jen did.'

'Tracy, I don't think Jennifer was doing it just out of pity. She fancied you, too, you know, though she wasn't in love with you. And I don't want to take you through there and strip you and stroke you and suck you and clitorise you out of pity. I'm soaking my knickers at the idea of it already, and I can't wait to get my clit into that lovely slippery groove of yours.'

I released her, locked the gallery door, took her hand and brought her into my sanctum. She was shaking with anticipation and I embraced her again and we embarked on a long, deep, tongue-sucking kiss, hard to keep engaged because of her shaking and gasping.

Eventually I released her and said, 'I'm going to strip you, dear Tracy, and I want you just to stand and let me enjoy it. For the moment, you're passive. I'm going to enjoy you slowly and how I want to, and you only have to do anything I ask, so long as you like it. All right? Here we go, then.'

I grasped the hem of the tracksuit top and pulled it up over her head. Underneath was a white sweatshirt, stretched tight at the bustline by those impressive breasts. 'Those are clearly magnificent,' I said. 'I'm going to love setting them free. Meantime, off with the top. Lift your arms, that's right. Catching on the bra a bit. Now we're over it. Off it comes.'

Now that we were under way and it was certain I was going to make love to her, she began to relax a little. The shaking lessened and the breathing eased and I felt I was hypnotising her with my running commentary and the slow-motion approach.

'That is a serious bra,' I said. 'Double Z, I should think. Those aren't so much cups as bowls. The strain on the straps when you move could generate power. I'm just going to investigate before unhooking. Can I get a hand down inside? Yes, right to the wrist. And what's this wonderful nub? A nipple to put mine to shame. I do so love long nipples and this one pokes out a mile. Can I suck it through the bra? Yes! Look at that, how it sticks out through the wet material. I can almost see it. You like that, don't you, my sucking it? Sensitive as well as sizeable. I'd love to get it into my pussy. It'll be fun to try, anyway. And I've got plans for where my nipples can go, too.'

Her eyes were half closed by now and she was slumped at the shoulders, attention focused on my questing hands and tongue. I said, 'If I reach round and undo the bra your bosoms would push against mine, if I undressed a bit. Here we go. Mine are not small, but they're going to look small against yours. Reaching round, then, taking the strain off the catch and here we go. Slip the shoulder-straps off and, oh wow! Look at them! They're stupendous. I've just got to weigh those in my hands. It's a wonder you don't fall flat on your face.'

'That's because of having a bloody great arse to balance them.'

'I'll get to that. But what I want to do now is to put my tits between yours, like this. I can squeeze yours onto mine, like bookends. Not done that much before. And what about rubbing nipples? I thought mine were pretty long but yours are like stalks. Look at how mine can slide up and down them. Beautiful!'

'I sometimes think that a woman's nipples might be the same length as her clit, but my clit disproves that.'

'I'll get to that, too. First, I'm going to take down these trackie bottoms. There we go. Not much in the way of knicker underneath. Plenty of fernery. And there's the clit, just showing about the knicks, and it's stupendous. It's much bigger than in your painting.'

'That's because I didn't want anyone seeing that to think I was a freak.'

'My dear Tracy, many people, men especially, adore a big clit. The bigger the better. And there's nothing freaky, because they come in every size from minute to gargantuan. There are even bigger ones than yours.'

'You wait. It isn't full hard yet.'

'All right. As I say, I'll get to that, but not too soon. Meantime turn round and step out of the trackies. Well, now we know where the knickers are - right up that crack-chasm. Let's see if I can prize them out. Yes, but it's a bit of a struggle to get them down. And what a gorgeous smell! Cunt and bottom and sweat - hundred percent proof pheromones.'

'My boyfriend said I stank.'

'He was no connoisseur, then. That perfume has me almost coming. So, let's get those knicks off. Now a good sniff. Mmm! Delightful. Gusset's a bit damp, naturally. If I touched it to my clit I'd come at once, and I do like to cum on other women's knickers. But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to lay you down on your front and give you a massage.'

'Are you going to clitorise me?'

'I certainly am, but I think you need coaxing towards it first. There's always a danger that when you're desperate to cum you go off at half-cock, or half-clit. You cum all right, but it doesn't go deep enough, it doesn't drain the system. So, I'm going to concentrate all of your orgasm into your clit and make it a mega-cum. Lie down, then.'

'That's right. Get comfortable. I'm going to indulge myself first. Relax your bum. Now I'm going to cram a tit into that deep gorge, if I can. That's lovely. Now the other one.'

'That boyfriend I had liked to cum in there when I had my period. I let other blokes do that, too. It didn't do much for me, but they liked it.'

'So, you had a boyfriend?'

'Yes. He said my vagina was loose. I've had a few guys in there, but they didn't do anything much for me. Helped me find out I want sex with women, though.'

'These shoulders are stiff. Let's see if I can work them loose...Working down the spine. That's rather tense, isn't it...Now I'm going to work that amazing bum. People don't think about relaxing the bottom, but I think that's where the orgasm gathers, which means you want those cheeks ready to let it flow...Turn over now. Shoulders again...Now the breasts...They're the other cum-storage...But we want to get them pumped up...And just look at those nipples...So exciting the way the areolas gather and lift...Mmm! So suckable...I can keep one in my mouth while I go on down your tummy...That's a good sign, your tum's is gurgling and flexing inside...Orgasm gathering...Keeping you waiting, yes, dear Tracy...Not going for the clit yet...Back to the breasts for a bit...Get them back on the boil...Those are going to be spectacular when they swell as you cum.'

'I'm ready now, really ready. Please, please suck my clit.'

'Let me fold open those lovely lips. They're like curtains, and I'm doing to push them back...Yes, there we are! That beautiful long groove I'm going to get my clit in there...Just get off my skirt and knickers...Got to lick along that vulva first...Flick the clit with my tongue...It can't get any bigger, can it?'

'Let me feel yours...Not a little one, is it? I so much want it touching mine.'

'Going to get between your legs now, then. Wide as you can. Can I get a nipple to your clit - that would be sweet. Yes! I love to see it. Lift your head and have a look. Does that feel good on your clit?'

'It's great! Never had that before. My clit is bursting with the feeling.'

'Clitting time now...Oh, the feeling of my clit sliding in your vulva! Now it's feeling for yours. There it is! Wonderful!'

'Norma, I need to be on top. Let me fuck you in your minge with my clit? Please?'

'Of course! Whatever you need. Change places...That's right...Yes, rest your tits on mine. I can't open any wider...My vulva's ready...Oh, I can feel your clit poking there...Yes, slide it up and down!...And its ribbing my clit...Is that what you like, Trace? Is it the clitting?'

'Yes, yes! I'm fucking your clit, and the feeling's fantastic...I'm going to cum. Can you cum?'

'Never mind me. Me later. Just cum, Tracy, cum now.'

'Thank you, thank you. It's here! Oh, perfect...'

She stiffened as her clit jammed hard into mine. I hugged her tight as her breasts swelled against mine and I felt the tsunargasm surge through her. It slowly ebbed as she shuddered and wept in joy and relief, murmuring, 'Oh, thank you, oh, thank you, oh, thank you.'

I felt calm and content, verging on proud that I had been able to give this sad woman a satisfactory cumming.

We both dozed a few minutes. Then she moved down my body, sliding those great breasts down my stomach and over my pussy, till she had brought her mouth to my quim. She sought my still hard clit with her tongue and began to lick. My orgasm was waiting within me, and it quickly tingled and prickled its way from my thighs into my bottom and blossomed from my clitoris through my system.

'There!' she said, 'There! Great to get you to cum, too.'