The Library

She is in a state of Nirvana and doesn't want to talk as it might spoil the mood. When Penny sticks her tongue into her vagina, Priss erupts again before she can let Penny know she's coming. She sobs a long wail and deflates into that inner glow where nothing else exists. She hands Penny the bed pillow again. When she feels Penny's tongue probing her vagina again, she pushes the girl's head away from her pussy. She needs a few minutes respite to come back down to earth.

After a few minutes, she reaches out and pulls Penny's head back into her crotch. They are off and running again; at least, Priss' pussy is running -- her juices. Penny must keep swallowing or choke on Priss' vaginal flow. After an eternity, three minutes, Priss is able to murmur, "Close. Close. Yes, NOW!" She erupts again; this time into Penny's open mouth. She pushes Penny away and rolls over into a fetal position on her bed, her pillow pushed between her legs. Penny wipes her wet mouth on the end of Priss' pillow.

It has been Paula and Sandra's turn to be turned on by Penny's administration of her newly acquired sexual expertise on Priss' pussy. Priss is no longer in the game as she is so entirely sated that she can't uncurl from her fetal coil.

Sandra suggests that they emulate the girls on the sex site. "What did you call it, Paula? Something about a flower -- a flower chain?"

"A flower? What are you talking about? Oh, you mean a 'daisy chain'. Yeah, we could try that. Penny, are you still hungry for more 'pudding'?"

"Mah tun S still num," she mumbled. "Ka wee way a whi L til I ca ge sum fee lin bag N it?"

"I think I've been abducted by aliens," said Paula, as she shook her head. She turned to Sandra and asked her if she understood what Penny just said.

"I think she said that her tongue is still numb and could we wait until she can get some feeling back in it. Either that or she was speaking Sanskrit or Esperanto."

While they waited for Penny's tongue to recuperate, they took off the rest of their clothes.

"Penny, where is your bra? Did you lose that as well as your shoes? Oh dam. If you left that on the third floor of the library and that fat old maid librarian finds it, there will be hell to pay. (The librarian, Marianne, was thirty-one, five foot seven, and had a voluptuous hourglass figure. She weighed not an ounce over 128 pounds.)

Jeez, we better go back and look for it, but not before your tongue feels better, and we do the deadly dirty delicious daisy chain thingy. All together now, on the floor, on your sides, form a circle, lift a leg, put your face on the next girl's thigh, stick out your tongue, and lick, lick, lick. Tomorrow, we have to put that dirty ditty to music. Do you think we could get a country music caller to sing it out?

Tongue okay, Penny? Let's get 'cracking' then. Each of the three girls sucked, licked, and probed trying to elicit an orgasm before the other two could. Each held back her own orgasm in an attempt to be the last one to come. Each wanted to make her own pleasure last as long as possible. Sandra lost. She came all over Paula's face and left a puddle on the hardwood floor.

Penny followed suit a minute later, and Paula won the day. She lasted three or four minutes longer with Sandra driving her tongue in and out of Paula's vagina like she was digging for gold. When Paula poured her juices into her mouth, on her face, and all over the floor, Sandra sputtered, coughed, and choked. She had picked exactly the wrong moment to inhale. When she was able to breathe normally, she realized that she was still on the floor and the other two girls were staring at her with a look of consternation on their faces.

"Are you going to be okay, Sandy?" Penny asked.

"I think so; it just went down the wrong way." She coughed a few more times and stood up a bit shakily. "That was fun," she declared. "or it would have been if you hadn't tried to drown me, Paula. Look, I've had enough sex for one day. Give me my clothes. I'm going home. Wait. Paula, do you or Priss have a robe I can wear. I'm just going next door to my room. I don't want to have to get dressed and immediately undress. I'm NOT going to the library to look for Penny's tit pockets. You guys can go, but I'm going to bed." She took a housecoat from Priss' closet, put it on, rolled her own clothes into a ball and left.

"Paula, I don't want to go to the library, either. It was an old bra and whoever finds it can keep it. My name isn't engraved in it, so no one can trace it back to me. I'm going to my room and see if Sandy is all right. You really did dump a lot of 'pink' dew down her throat." She put on her t-shirt and jeans and left. She was still barefoot.

Paula put Priss' blanket over the girl and went to bed naked. She was too exhausted to put on her shorty nightgown.

Priss woke momentarily, and pulled her pillow under her face. It is stained and reeking with pussy juice. As she buries her face in it, Priss is reminded of the afternoon and evening's pleasurable sexual adventures. She inhales deeply of the pillow's exotic perfume as she drifts off to sleep. She will continue to keep the pillow well endowed with this deliciously strong aroma of remembered ecstasy.

In the future, it will probably accumulate the sexual scents of other women, hopefully many other women. Priss has no plans to ever wash the pillowcase. It is her treasure trove.