dear. I don't want you interfering with Darren's games. That's a very lovely little bra, isn't it, Darren? But surely you can play more roughly than that? Give those breasts a proper working-over, Darren. Keep those nipples erect!'
Jem bit her lip. Darren's thick fingers were kneading her breasts, returning incessantly to rub and pinch her upright nipples through the flimsy fabric of the bra. It was not an altogether unpleasant sensation, but it made concentration difficult.
'Now, Jem,' Miss Morelli said, her voice a little hoarse, i want you to remove this G-string I'm wearing. Without using your hands, of course.'
Jem moaned, and tried vainly to shake herself free of Darren's relentless fingers. She knew she could move her hands, but they remained behind her back as though tied together. 'Yes, Miss Morelli,' she remembered to say, and leant forward, her forehead brushing the satin skin of Miss Morelli's flat belly and her lips searching for the strip of elasticated lace that held up the black triangle.
Miss Morelli smelt wild and exotic. Her skin had a warm, earthy odour; the perfume that rose from her tight-ly-curled black pubic hair was heavy and sophisticated. As Jem's lips pulled down the tiny garment and her nose slid deeply into the slowly revealed bush of black curls, she became more and more aware of the tangy smell of womanly sex that underlay all the other odours. There's no point in hurrying this, Jem thought, shuddering slightly as Darren squeezed both of her breasts simultaneously; she pulled the thin waistband away from Miss Morelli's pelvis, released it suddenly with a snap that made the tall woman flinch, and proceeded to plant a series of little kisses in the warm furrows between Miss Morelli's crotch and thighs.
She felt Miss Morelli's hand on her head, playing with her hair. 'Very good, Jem,' Miss Morelli said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. 'You show initiative. But really, my dear, you should attend to the main business. I think I can undress myself from here. Both of you, stop what you're doing.'
Darren's hands were removed from Jem's mauled breasts. She watched as Miss Morelli slid the G-string down her long legs and stepped out of the black circles of lace. Jem felt a pang of disappointment as the tall woman stepped backward, removing her enticing body from the vicinity of her eager lips.
Miss Morelli arranged herself on the chaise longue with one golden sandal on the floor and the other on the seat, and rested one crimson-nailed hand between her widely-parted thighs. 'Now I'm going to watch,' she said. 'Let's see how hot you can make me, shall we? Jem darling, stay where you are, but turn to one side a little. And Darren, come and stand in front of her. Perfect!'
Jem found herself nose to crotch with the muscular lad. The bulge in his shorts had grown to an alarming size, and he was having some difficulty keeping still. The same procedure, Jem,' Miss Morelli called out, 'but this time it's freestyle. Let's see what you can do with a big boy's equipment.'
Jem raised her head, grasped the waistband of Darren's shorts between her teeth, and pulled down. An arc of skin, paler than the suntanned stomach, was revealed. Jem shuffled sideways and repeated the procedure. Darren, anxious to be helpful, began to turn round in small increments so that Jem was not obliged to circumnavigate him on her knees. Soon the shorts were half-way down Darren's hips. His pale, hard-muscled buttocks were protruding cheekily above the waistband, and Jem had not resisted the temptation to kiss and nibble them at every opportunity, drawing embarrassed shivers and whimpers from the boy.
Now Jem was faced with a problem. She was unable to drag the shorts any further down Darren's legs: at the front the waistband remained hooked over the boy's hard protuberance, and yanking at the stubborn garment with her teeth only caused Darren to writhe in pleasurable discomfort. She mastered the urge to unclasp her hands,
Jem bit her lip. Darren's thick fingers were kneading her breasts, returning incessantly to rub and pinch her upright nipples through the flimsy fabric of the bra. It was not an altogether unpleasant sensation, but it made concentration difficult.
'Now, Jem,' Miss Morelli said, her voice a little hoarse, i want you to remove this G-string I'm wearing. Without using your hands, of course.'
Jem moaned, and tried vainly to shake herself free of Darren's relentless fingers. She knew she could move her hands, but they remained behind her back as though tied together. 'Yes, Miss Morelli,' she remembered to say, and leant forward, her forehead brushing the satin skin of Miss Morelli's flat belly and her lips searching for the strip of elasticated lace that held up the black triangle.
Miss Morelli smelt wild and exotic. Her skin had a warm, earthy odour; the perfume that rose from her tight-ly-curled black pubic hair was heavy and sophisticated. As Jem's lips pulled down the tiny garment and her nose slid deeply into the slowly revealed bush of black curls, she became more and more aware of the tangy smell of womanly sex that underlay all the other odours. There's no point in hurrying this, Jem thought, shuddering slightly as Darren squeezed both of her breasts simultaneously; she pulled the thin waistband away from Miss Morelli's pelvis, released it suddenly with a snap that made the tall woman flinch, and proceeded to plant a series of little kisses in the warm furrows between Miss Morelli's crotch and thighs.
She felt Miss Morelli's hand on her head, playing with her hair. 'Very good, Jem,' Miss Morelli said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. 'You show initiative. But really, my dear, you should attend to the main business. I think I can undress myself from here. Both of you, stop what you're doing.'
Darren's hands were removed from Jem's mauled breasts. She watched as Miss Morelli slid the G-string down her long legs and stepped out of the black circles of lace. Jem felt a pang of disappointment as the tall woman stepped backward, removing her enticing body from the vicinity of her eager lips.
Miss Morelli arranged herself on the chaise longue with one golden sandal on the floor and the other on the seat, and rested one crimson-nailed hand between her widely-parted thighs. 'Now I'm going to watch,' she said. 'Let's see how hot you can make me, shall we? Jem darling, stay where you are, but turn to one side a little. And Darren, come and stand in front of her. Perfect!'
Jem found herself nose to crotch with the muscular lad. The bulge in his shorts had grown to an alarming size, and he was having some difficulty keeping still. The same procedure, Jem,' Miss Morelli called out, 'but this time it's freestyle. Let's see what you can do with a big boy's equipment.'
Jem raised her head, grasped the waistband of Darren's shorts between her teeth, and pulled down. An arc of skin, paler than the suntanned stomach, was revealed. Jem shuffled sideways and repeated the procedure. Darren, anxious to be helpful, began to turn round in small increments so that Jem was not obliged to circumnavigate him on her knees. Soon the shorts were half-way down Darren's hips. His pale, hard-muscled buttocks were protruding cheekily above the waistband, and Jem had not resisted the temptation to kiss and nibble them at every opportunity, drawing embarrassed shivers and whimpers from the boy.
Now Jem was faced with a problem. She was unable to drag the shorts any further down Darren's legs: at the front the waistband remained hooked over the boy's hard protuberance, and yanking at the stubborn garment with her teeth only caused Darren to writhe in pleasurable discomfort. She mastered the urge to unclasp her hands,
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