The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica by Barbara Cardy

salt-and-cinnamon of her own loins. She lapped at the older
lady’s lips.
    “Is the fare too much, my sweet?”
    Natasha shook her head. The doll was within her, concrete, like an imminent need. Lara put her mouth to her pinioned victim’s ear and whispered:
    “I will eat you now. Work on that little dolly, and when you feel like the time is right, give it back to me.”
    Lara drew the fronds of her furs deliciously down Natasha’s palpitating body and settled again between the girl’s splayed legs. Natasha’s knees, wide apart, swayed to the
rhythm of the galloping coach. With two fingers she smeared aside her own slippery lips allowing her liquid pinkness to gape.
    Lara began to lick – softly at first, like a breeze, up and down the vertical lines of Natasha’s vulva, just tracing its shape. Natasha quivered and parted her legs further, her
hands between her legs, holding tenderly Lara’s sculptural cheekbones, feeling the woman’s face muscles twitch as she feasted on her wetness. Natasha was maddeningly conscious of the
velveteen luxury of Lara’s fur-wrapped shoulders caressing her thighs. Lara lapped, an accomplished lap, a muscular, steady tongue, lathering Natasha’s labia with her agile tip, laying
down sparkling layers of saliva, drawing out an effulgent sheen of warm honey. Occasionally, Natasha heard her swallow. Each stroke was imperceptibly firmer than the last, opening the girl’s
cunt with coaxing and compliments.
    Natasha revelled in the exceptional licking. She had never been licked so well. Those girls she had tried to teach at the palace. Amateurs. Ingenues. Cold-tongued and awkward. Eager but inept.
Even when she had turned the tables and instructed, bringing the shivering young women to surprised, profane climaxes, she had not been able to transfer her ability. This was more like it. She held
the backs of her knees and arched her spine.
    The flowering of her vulva was having an effect on the muscles of her pelvis. As ever, she could feel her insides getting hot, aligning themselves, steeling themselves for orgasm. This was only
too perceivable in her rear, where the muscles of her passage were clenching around the little intruder, getting a grip, all the more because Lara would occasionally target one of her licks to
Natasha’s small, sensitive, drawstring entrance. She recalled her cunnilinger’s instructions. As she moaned and rocked her hips, she concentrated tentatively on manoeuvring the
doll.
    Lara reached Natasha’s clitoris for the first time with a tremolo touch which sent molten streaks of pleasure to the girl’s pointed toes. She screwed up her pretty face and bore
down. It was a delicious feeling. She felt the sensation under her tongue, liberating and awful. With surprising ease the small wooden doll crept from her anus, bringing with it a heavenly ache.
She cried aloud. Lara, who seemed to know the signs, met it with her mouth and pushed it in again.
    “Eep!” gulped Natasha, who, reaching for her own clit, pushed out once more. Again, the doll was intercepted at its delectable zenith and once more firmly inserted by Lara’s
clever mouth. They were playing chess with a single queen. Eventually, as her revolving finger worked to a frenzy, the little piece of wood popped free into Lara’s smiling mouth. She firmly
removed Natasha’s hand and leaned over her once more. The doll dropped from her teeth, trailing spit, and landed on Natasha’s lips. It tasted of plums and wood and her own darkness.
    “The fare not too much, my love? You can get out if you want to.”
    “No.” gasped Natasha, slightly bewildered from being so close to orgasm and from having just passed a small wooden toy into a stranger’s mouth.
    Lara told Natasha to sit up. “Oil for the pussy and cream for the rose,” she purred, pouring drops of gold from a stoppered bottle onto Natasha’s wide open cunt.
    “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” asked Natasha, breathing