The skirt was indecently tight, highlighting my ass, which was also complimented by my four-inch heels. Beneath the dress I wore no bra, and although she couldn’t see them, only the skimpiest of bikini panties. The outfit was highlighted with a pair of crimson stockings, held in place with elastic garters. When I turned around, towering over her, Susan gazed at me like she would eat me up.“What will it take?” I asked. She had stopped, her mouth open, just inside the door, and one shapely buttock, outlined in the mellow light of my study lamp, was propped against the frame.“What’ll what take?” she replied dazedly, her eyes fixed on the plunging neckline of my outfit.“What will it take,” I said, deliberately taking slow strides on my clicking heels to where she stood, watching her widened eyes rove up and down me “for you to do your work? I’ve tried talking to you. I’ve given you detention. Why isn’t that enough?”“I don’t know.” She was looking to my left, through the window into the. It licked lightly along the unfolded cuntlips, then stabbed in as far as possible. She parted her lips, fitting them to Caroline's cunt slot, and began a steady sucking. Cuntjuice poured over her fucking tongue and bubbled on her lips. Her mouth began to fill up with the precious stuff.Caroline was starting to burn with the thrill.She was amazed at how well Darleen sucked cunt. Did all women do it that well? Did they, having cunts of their own, know how to suck better than a man? Or was that dark thrill so great because this act was perverted and deviant and naughty? But the reasons didn't matter--only the feeling mattered, and that feeling was one of ecstasy.Darleen was wallowing in her crotch like a playful porpoise in a heated pool. "Come," Darleen whimpered, the word muffled on Caroline's pussy, echoing up her cunt. "I want to make you come. Oh, cream for me, Caroline. I need your cuntjuice!"Those words were as inspirational as the tongue that formed them, the lips that uttered.
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