Lucy put her tattered copy of Asimov's Second Foundation down on the coffee table and owled the door with interest, her nylon legs sprawled across the arm of the sofa. Lucy and Belle were both avid readers. Between them they made their way through perhaps 8 to 12 books a month. More, when they had no university deadlines or other tedious obligations. Lucy had recently introduced Belle to science fiction; the good kind. She herself had just started the last book of Asimov's famous saga, after finishing Flowers for Algernon which Belle had lent her - Lucy cried a little at the end. She hitched up her crotchless tights, her plain black bandeau thong barely visible beneath her favourite, almost predictably black silk nightdress, her mauve bra straps sliding off her shoulders which she also readjusted. Belle stumbled through the door, hand in hand with a slightly taller girl, a stench of vodka drafting in behind them. Belle, in her drunken haze, didn't notice Lucy as she closed the door. The Goddess said nothing, but imperceptibly spread her legs as if to favor that strange advance. The hand reached the pubis where the bristles of the hair growing a month tickled my fingertips. His breathing became heavier, but he didn't care about me continuing to type on the machine. Then always with the terror of being turned away (it was a classic for me) I moved the whole body bringing the head to the height of its mount of Venus and I began to kiss her inside. The nostrils began to perceive her essence as a woman, she hadn't taken a shower, (it is not needed to go to bed with her husband) but the fragrance was far from unpleasant, it tasted of the lagoon, of salt water algae, and I admit the perfume entered my brain directly. I became bold and began to touch his "lips" with the tip of my tongue, venturing to let the tip of my tongue enter the folds of her femininity. Her breathing got faster and I saw her big breasts rise and fall to the rhythm of my tongue on her sex. With the.
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