Fanchon's Book(29)

She sat up suddenly, swinging her legs over the side of the chaise. "Hey, I got all excited just talking about it. How about you, Fanchon?"

"Well, I'll have to think it over and-"

"Sure, sure, bur that's not what I mean. I'm feeling sexy again. Ready for some more fun."

"Oh?"

"But you're not, I guess. You're tired, huh?" She pouted wistfully, making an appealing little moue. "And I did say I'd let you get some sleep, darn it."

As yes, a mischief-maker-but so mercurial in her mental processes, a frisky kitten that might bounce in any direction at any instant: scarcely an augenblick ago she had chortled over the prospect of clawing Oliver, and now the only thing on her mind was a sex-frolic. Malicious one moment, cuddlesome the next. But never dull-and I blessed the fate that had sent the capricious little *cat here to turn my otherwise arid existence into her own private bowl of milk.

Ready for some more fun. What an amusing way to put it, ingenuous and yet flippant; utterly charming, of its caresses as if nothing else had any importance. There was a tickle-spot high on the inside of my thigh; she touched it and I twitched; she jabbed her big toe into it hard and I writhed. Underneath me, the nap of the carpet became less downy; it bristled and bit mercilessly into my squirming buttocks. And at last the aggressive toe pushed past the touchy spot and found another that was much touchier and far more ticklish (and certainly crucial!) and my body no longer floated in softness; up and down it arched and thumped and oscillated between the acute penetration and the blunt abrasion, striving for the pang and struggling against the prickle-and gradually coming to accept both as something more powerful than either. A sob broke from my lips. A sob of need.

"Fanchon? You like it?"

"Ummm…"

"I'm not hurting you?" Ah, but of course she was hurting me. Hurting me terribly! Hurting me more and more with every motion. And wasn't it fantastic the way my hands were holding her ankle and pulling her foot deeper so that it would hurt even"Hey! Are you all right?"

"Please… do it to me! With your foot. I want it. I don't care if it hurts. I love you… "

Her foot slid into me, paused, and then probed for depth. I groaned and clutched it in the hairy wetness, sucking on it with my vulva-mouth, licking it with my clitoris-tongue, gasping rapturously every time the wriggling toes prepared the path for a further inch of passage.

She stood up suddenly. "Yessss… " A hiss, fierce that was my Kristi, but terribly exciting too, and I felt myself responding in reciprocal readiness. The way she had her foot dangling in my lap; how could I help but catch the fever of her restlessness? I too was feeling sexy again. Ready for some more fun.

But I was already having it. Fun. I didn't dare say so, though, for fear she might stop. I didn't want that. It was nice to be wooed for a change, nice to sit quietly and let her try to arouse me; such a delicious sensation! My body floated between two layers of softness, the carpet below, thick, plushy, and the stroking foot above, gentle, affectionate; I wanted the fleecy titillation to-go on and on.

"Fanchon?"

"Mmmm… "

"Getting sleepy?" she giggled knowingly. I didn't answer. Not of my own volition, anyway.

But my flesh was slipping out of control here and there, a flicker of betrayal, a ripple of admission; the sole of her foot brought a quivering reaction wherever it glided; even the graze of a sharp toenail evoked a shudder that stifled pain and shrieked of pleasure; no, an answer wasn't necessary. The little tactician had proved her point.