Pat and Jennifer Ch. 01

"Okay, just tell me how you – no, your cousin – learned to lick pussy so good."

"Where was I?"

"His sister was looking off in space and then at your cousin's now more aroused cock."

"Oh yeah. Thanks. And he saw her hand slide over her pussy. He glanced up at her face, a little surprised, but she just smiled with a shrug, and he saw her fingers moving. She wanted to show him, he thought, now staring at how her fingers were moving. Then they just clasped her pussy, and she said: 'My panties are off; you come and do it. I'll tell you what girls want.'

"She wanted him to – to lick her pussy, to lick his sister's pussy?! His thoughts as he told it: Crap! She was spreading her thighs and her fingers were spreading open the lips of her pussy. He had never seen one before, not even in the dark, just had his cock it. It was all pink and much more interesting than he had imagined with its inner lips. Somewhere he had heard about them. What, where was he supposed to lick? His sister wanted to tell him. What would it taste like? It looked already moist. His sister was already aroused?! She really wanted him – her brother – to lick her pussy?! She did!

"He said that she repeated her 'come and do it'. He got off the stool and dropped down on his knees between her thighs, suddenly wondering if all her talking wasn't so much for him but rather because she wanted her pussy licked. That didn't matter; his big sister had always won their arguments, and in the end, he had gone along with what she wanted. For sure, she now wanted him to lick her pussy, she was repeating: 'Do it, lick.'

He did, licking up the length of her pussy. She hummed and said: 'Yeah taste it. Girls taste a lot better than boys. We like to lick our fingers.'"

Pat remarked: "She did taste good, of course. We know that." I noticed her hand move and looked at it, She was obviously putting a finger or two in her pussy. Then she smirked at me and licked them between grinning lips. Did I want to taste them? What was I thinking?! I returned to my story:

"Yeah, he said she really tasted good, and want to find more to taste in her hole. She let him, saying that that also felt good, but then reminding him that he should lick 'in front, on my clit, that little swelling'. He did, and she moaned.

"He started to tell me everything else she told him, but I told him he didn't need to, that I could imagine that, knowing how good he licked my pussy. I thought that was clever, getting back to why I had asked how he learned and complimenting his skill. Oh, she told him he could hold her breasts, saying that he must at least know that girls like that too. And yeah, you were right; he said her nipples were good to play with and to suck and nibble on."

"Not while he was licking her pussy," Pat remarked: "Sounds like he got another lesson, and not just a lesson."

I nodded with grin, realizing that I had suggested more than I had intended. I shrugged and agreed:

"He sure did. After he gave her a good orgasm, following her instructions, when he stood, she looked down and saw that his cock was completely aroused. He said that he hadn't realized that it was and was embarrassed. His sister just smiled and said something about that she should have known that would happen and that since he had licked her pussy, it was only fair that she show him how girls give oral sex. She did. Of course, he didn't have to tell her what to do, and it was the most arousing and best orgasm he had had till then. He was nice enough, however, to tell me that I did it just as good, just that having his cock sucked for the very first time had to seem especially momentous. I agreed, the same for my first orgasm. Hm-hmm! He replied: "Pussy-licking good.'"

Pat chuckled and agreed, then adding:

"But he wasn't sucking her nipples while she was doing that."

"No. That was just the first day. He was enjoying tell his story now. The next day – skinny dipping again, of course – she teased him and asked if he still remembered what to do, that she would let him and only say something if he had forgotten, that if she didn't have to say anything, then she would suck his cock again. She didn't have to say anything and wanted to kiss his wet face. He said that he was beyond worrying about doing anything with his sister. Oh, she said a lot, he said, but just aroused stuff, no instructions.

"So then she did it. He was a little upset at first, when she wanted to kiss him again, but then didn't mind the taste of his own semen as much as he had expected."

"Not after a girl had sucked his cock and swallowed most of it; I hope not," Pat remarked.

"He had wanted to kiss me, so he certainly didn't. Oh, I didn't finish that, when I was sitting on him."

"Later, when did he suck and nibble her nipples?" Pat asked.

"Did they do it like that again the same day, or was it the next day?"

"Probably the same day, from your experience."

"No matter, whenever, they did, and after she had sucked his cock and kissed him, she said that her pussy was just as aroused as his cock was after licking her. He didn't immediately get the gist of her remark, not until she said that if they both could do that, it couldn't be much worse to do what else they could. He understood that, was shocked, but his sister always won their arguments. And, as he told it, to his surprise his just sucked cock liked the idea."

"Nineteen year old youngster, no problem," Pat remarked.

"Nor when he was young twenty-something either," I countered.

"Okay, so they did everything two people can. Maybe it's even more arousing, knowing it is completely taboo."

"Maybe, a little for me too, my cousin."

"Some places you could marry him."

"Hmm? I can imagine how that could happen – now. He married the following summer, and they had known each other for a couple of years."

"Wicked little cousin! Not just incest, seducing him to adultery!"

"It was his idea to go skinny dipping."

"Okay, and you didn't know about her at the time. Oh! I wonder if they were also out skinny dipping, and what about other girls?

"Shit! I never thought of that! Hmmm? Oh well, if they wanted to, and he did it that good with all of them, a kind of service to mankind – better – womanhood."

Pat nodded, then said that I would have to continue my story later. since her pussy had to do something else. At her mentioning it, mine also did then. We almost rushed to the bathroom. She went first, taking off her nightie. When she stood up, I saw that her pussy was shaven. I had seen a couple of others like that in college. Forty years ago, that was rare. I had taken off my nightie when she did. We didn't have anything to hide after how we had spent the early morning. When I sat down on the toilet, I remarked:

"Oh, you shave."

"Yeah. You don't, don't need to with you nice little patch that doesn't hide much."

"Is that why you shave, so 'he' can see your pussy?"

"Not really, but they all like it this way. You don't need to; they can see your slit."

"Not like they can see yours – one at a time. If they like it? I hope not because they have fantasizes about doing something with a preteen."

"Me too. Yeah, I guess it looks like that."

"Sweet, innocent."

"Not anymore," Pat replied with smirk, then anticipated my question:

"I have a real bush, so I started trimming it. When I saw a girl who shaved hers, I did, easier than trying to trim it, just like underarms."

Pat started her shower, and I waited, wondering about shaving my pussy. I had seen a couple of other shaven pussies, but had thought the girls were trying to call attention to them, which seemed sort of slutty. But Pat's explanation made sense. The shower curtain was only half closed, and she had been stepping from behind it, letting me see her washing herself, grinning when she soaped her breasts, paying attention to her nipples. They were nice, but not like mine, and a little darker.

She had dark brown hair, and I could imagine that her "real bush" was something that would have bothered me. My light brown hair didn't hide my skin. I hadn't before thought about whether it hid my pussy slit. I liked it the way it was and unconsciously scratched my fingers in my pubic hair.

Pat's face appeared again. She smiled and said:

"Thinking about shaving it? If you want to, I can help the first time, have to trim the hairs short enough for the razor."

Did I want to? I kind of liked the way her pussy looked, reminding me of all the statues and paintings of girls without pubic hair - apparently the classical ideal. Would I look like that? Not with my nipples, which I felt tighten, but I liked them, and Pat and my cousin and all the other males had. If I didn't like it, my hair would grow back. I replied:

"I don't know. You really want to?"

"Why not? It will grow back, if you don't want to bother."

Her same argument decided. I nodded with a shrug. She finished her shower and I started mine, wondering a little as I washed my pussy with hair for the last time. When I had finished my shower, she had found my razor and scissors and told me to sit on the edge of the tub, "the other way, so we can wash it down the drain." I turned around, and she got in the tub between my legs.

This was being a little more intimate than I had anticipated with her so close between my knees. She began to trim my pubic hairs as short as she could, having to touch me with her other hand. I spread my thighs wide, so that she didn't have to touch me much to find the few ones down next to my pussy lips. When she was finished with the scissors though, she let the hot water run and rubbed it on me everywhere she had trimmed, her hand right on my pussy.

This was really being more intimate than I had anticipated, so much so that my nipples tightened. She didn't see them, to my relief, hoping that she wasn't also finding it intimate. She just found the razor and began at the top, but when she got down to the hairs further down, she had to use her other hand to push my pussy lips one way and the other to use the razor there.

I hadn't bargained for this, and my pussy wasn't particular about why or whose hand was touching it. I drew a quick breath, holding it, hoping it hadn't been an audible gasp, aware that my pussy was moister. Pat just continued, thank goodness. But then, when she was finished, her fingers explored everywhere she had shaved, again moving my pussy lips, more than I thought was necessary to test that she had shaved everywhere. Really more than that; she was looking at it and murmured:

"You have a nice pussy."

"Thanks, I like it, but you don't have to. Thanks for shaving it."

"Still think it looks nice," Pat murmured.

"How many have you seen – to think that?"

"None, not like this."

"So stop staring at it; can't look better than yours."

That had been the wrong thing to say. She chuckled and replied:

"So you were looking at mine."

"No! Not like you were looking at mine, and don't touch it again." My thighs clapped together. Pat had slid her fingers down over my pussy again.

"Okay, okay, we can look at them in the mirror in your bedroom."

She washed the last of my pubic hairs down the drain, and we did, just standing in front of the mirror. Did she really think my pussy looked nice – nicer than hers? Now she could only see the slit between my close pussy lips, not any swelling where my clitoris was. Had she been able to see that before? But I could see her swelling there. Was she aroused, or did it always show? Did her sliding her hand over it suggest that she wanted to hide it? Because she liked better that mine couldn't be seen, or because she wanted to hide that she was aroused?

We smirked at each other in the mirror, shrugging, and then got dressed. We had a hearty and leisurely breakfast, agreeing that I show her the city. We spent the day that way. Pat insisted on inviting me for dinner in a nice restaurant – with two glasses of wine. Back in my flat, she suggested that we share the bottle of wine she had brought.

We did, feeling good, then agreeing to go to bed earlier than we probably otherwise would have. Was it completely accidental that we looked at each other again in the mirror before we put on our nighties? At my first glance, I was surprised for a moment to see my bare pussy, like it had been when I was kid, but also like those of the couple of famous nude statues I could remember - nice, even if the rest of me wasn't like that. As we were getting in opposite sides of the bed, Pat suggested evenly that if I wanted to sleep like that again, she wouldn't mind. She move closer to the middle of bed with her back to me.

Was it the wine, or did I just not want to find words to suggest that I didn't want to hold her breast again - or did I want to? I blamed it on the wine and curled up closer behind her. She didn't have to help my hand find her breast, just putting her over mine. Instinctively, my fingers held her breast a little more firmly, and then hers encouraged mine to squeeze it again.

"Um-hmm," she agreed almost silently. Of course, I thought, we both knew it as nice to sleep with someone's arm around us, even if it was another girl's, and after what we had done that morning, I didn't mind being that girl. For many seconds, we just lay there, and I was thinking about going to sleep, when her fingers squeezed mine again and she said softly:

"That was good this morning – your stories, his too. That must have been really good for both of you."

"It was – fantastic."

"Beyond any of my fantasizes. He must really enjoy oral sex."

"Not more than I did – and do."

"And me," Pat agreed, and her fingers moved on mine.

I squeezed her breast in confirmation of what she had said. She chuckled softly, and her hand urged mine slide a little. Her nipple wasn't in my palm, now under my fingers. Instinctively, they did what they did when I was holding one of my breast, after a moment feeling through her thin nightie goose bumps around her nipple. She nodded with soft hum.

Of course, she wanted me to arouse her nipple, and my fingers wanted to. If they wanted to, and she wanted them to, why not? The wine, if I needed an excuse. They circled over more goose bumps and then on her stiff nipple. She chuckled warmly. I knew what she was feeling and liked that I could, that I knew what my fingers were doing for her.

"Nice, feels good," she murmured.

"I know," I agreed.

It wasn't just the wine now, I was enjoying what I was doing, liking that she had suggested our lying this way, enjoying it so much that I took the initiative to slide my hand down and find her other nipple. She nodded again with another soft chuckle, and I did. Then I was surprised. Her arm moved over mine, her hand reaching back passed her hip and finding mine. Okay, that was nice too, that she wanted to touch me. It rubbed my nightie on my skin. I could feel her individual fingers moving. This time I nodded with soft chuckle.

Did I say: "Also nice"? I was thinking it. Whatever? Whether I did or didn't encourage her, I felt her fingers gather up my nightie, and then they were on my bare skin, stroking, exploring, as though enjoyed what they had found. When my thighs clamped together, I couldn't deny to myself that it was slightly arousing to feel her fingers on my bare ass, gripping it, trying to reach further.

I must have squeezed her breast in response. She chuckled again and murmured: "If you want to do that, ..."

She didn't finish her sentence. Her other hand pulled her nightie up. She had to bounce her hips to pull it up further, and then was pulling it from between my hand and her breast – both our hands on bare skin. It was even nicer to hold her bare breast and then to feel my fingers on her bare, aroused nipple. She hummed, almost a moan. I knew how that felt even better for her.

Oooh?! Her fingers were creeping towards my hipbone – going where? Her thumb found it, but her fingers continued to crawl, one and then another finding their way between my thigh and her ass onto the soft skin inside the top of my thigh. When her other fingers found their way there, and they all stroked in the soft crease between my thigh and what else down there, my thighs clenched together again, and involuntarily my fingers grasped her breast.

"What are you doing?" I murmured.

"You know what you're doing to me, not just where your hand is."

Her fingers crept, pulling her hand further, closer to where I knew she meant, closer to my pussy. Did hers feel just as aroused? My fingers clasped her breast.

"Um-hmm," Pat responded, as though to my unspoken question. She rocked her hip away from me and let her hand slide down between us, her fingers creeping further down, passed the crease and onto where the top of my pubic hair had been. She murmured: "You can too. I would like that."

Before I understood, her other hand was on mine, wanting to draw it off her breast. I let it, but then realized that it was drawing my hand down towards where Pat's hand was on me. Did she want us to feel each other's pussy?! How much?! Was that what she was thinking about, when she shaved my pussy, why she shaved it, an excuse to look at?! Oh, and her fingers had been all over the outside of my pussy lips!

They weren't now and thank goodness not moving, but her other hand was, slowly, almost hesitantly sliding mine, now over her navel, as though expecting I would resist. But I was letting it! Did I want to have my hand on her there? Or was I just curious to find out what she had in mind? I was curious, but then what? Was I aroused? I was! My thighs clutched together again, but I let her hand move mine further.

It stopped moving. My fingertips were on the start of her pubic mound. I sighed in relief; she didn't want my hand right on her pussy. For a few moments, at least, nothing was happening. Involuntarily, my fingertips moved slightly and felt soft short stubble, not like a man's cheek, if he had shaved a few hours before I was touched him.

"Um-hmm," Pat hummed, and her fingers also moved, more than mine had. Mine then did too. If this continued, I might agree to do whatever she wanted! Aroused tension, as just our fingers stroked. I couldn't stand it any longer and murmured:

"What are you thinking about?"

"How good that must have been with your cousin."

"Very, like I told you in too much detail this morning."

"Yeah, of course. I guess I was thinking more about how good it must have been for him too."

"Hmm? We'll never know how it's how good for a cock."

"I wasn't thinking about that," Pat murmured.

Our fingers were still idly stroking each others pussy mound, while I slowly recognized what she was thinking about. Then I realized that now all our fingers had extended further down, so close to start of our pussy slits? Was she really thinking about how much he had enjoyed licking my pussy?

"You're thinking about that?" I asked.

"I guess so, if that's what you mean?"

I had to hesitate before venturing to ask directly, then almost whispered:

"About his licking my pussy?"

"Since you said it, yes, about his licking your pussy."

"Well, it sure was good, but you know that already."

"For him too," Pat added.

Her fingers really explored further. I sometimes teased myself, starting slowly with my fingers like hers were, trying to hold off touching my pussy, until they just couldn't resist. I felt almost like that now, and my fingers did too, but they weren't on my pubic mount. That didn't stop them from also exploring further. Pat moaned very softly. What were we doing? What were we going to do? I returned to her last words and murmured questioningly:

"You're thinking about pussy licking?"

"Um-hmm, I guess so. Why not, if he liked to do it so much."