Read Online A Girl's Adventure - full length erotic novel by Chloe Thurlow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chloe Thurlow
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Tara slithered down the bed into Greta’s arms, her silky lap-dancer body soft yet firm, ripe yet fresh, young and healthy and so eager, so wanton, Greta had the odd sensation as she touched Tara that she was touching herself. Their hands were explorers finding cheekbones and hipbones, shoulder blades and precise little knees, the swell of thighs, the pattern of ribs that Greta thought of as a musical instrument and Tara plucked at her strings until she sang. She sucked at her lips and made her sigh with new pleasures as her pointed tongue bathed the hollow of her throat, a neglected wee place that Greta was glad was finally receiving some attention. Tara moved slowly down and down until her tongue wormed its way through the damp undergrowth into Greta’s heaving sex.
Tara lapped at her pussy like a pussy cat lapping milk, licking and sucking, a hot gooey puddle appearing beneath Greta’s bottom as the oils flowed from her. Greta spread herself as wide as she could. She wanted Tara to spiral up inside her body until she disappeared and they were one. Tara had manoeuvred her way in a circle and now clamped her naked pussy back over Greta’s lips. Tara’s syrupy dew trickled down her throat and Greta’s mind went back again to those pyjama parties at school when everyone took off their pyjamas and she recalled nostalgically that there is nothing like the taste of girls.
They sixty-nined until Tara went into spasm and when she climaxed once more Greta felt all the tension flowing from her friend’s stiff young body. She turned and they snuggled under the covers like two little animals in a basket. Tara had small, pert, pointed breasts with nipples that were hard and hot to the touch.
‘You needed that,’ Greta said.
‘And how.’ Tara licked Greta’s little sea shell ear and whispered. ‘I didn’t know you were like that?’
‘Aren’t we all like that?’
‘We are now.’
They kissed and giggled and played with each other’s breasts. Tara slid back down again below the duvet and drank like a pony from the well of Greta’s chalice. Greta shuddered and sighed.
‘That’s so nice.’
‘I’ve wanted to do it for such a long time,’ Tara murmured.
‘You only had to ask.’
‘But how was I to know?’
‘I would have thought it was obvious,’ Greta said.
‘Greta May, you’re getting so conceited.’
Greta thought about that, but quite the opposite was true. She’d been living in a daze, unconscious, unaware of her... potential. She stroked the top of Tara’s head and, when Tara had taken her fill, she slithered like a creepy crawly up Greta’s body and kissed her again, a long, silky soft kiss like only girls can. The room was hung with carnal smells, with girlie scents, with oestrogen, and Greta was suddenly starving.
‘Let’s eat,’ she said, and swung her legs from the bed.
She put some water on to boil and cooked spaghetti à la puttanesca while Tara ran out to the corner store for a bottle of Italian red. Greta didn’t bother to get dressed and enjoyed the cold air hardening her nipples as she reached into the refrigerator for sparkling water. She scratched her matted pubes while she stirred the pasta.
When Tara got back, the bottle of wine nearly slipped from her fingers. She screamed at the top of her voice and pointed at Greta’s bottom.
‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’
‘What?’ Greta turned. ‘Oh, that.’
‘Your bum, Greta. Has someone been hitting you?’
Greta nodded. ‘Twice, actually.’
‘Oh, no, was it that man?’
Greta licked the pasta spoon. ‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘And how.’
Tara looked confused. ‘Poor thing. It’s all red. Doesn’t it hurt?’
Greta nursed her bottom cheeks and then turned to take a closer look. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘It does at the time, it hurts like hell, but it doesn’t last long.’
Tara bent to take a closer look. There were six crimson stripes evenly spaced across Greta’s cheeks, the first six
Tara slithered down the bed into Greta’s arms, her silky lap-dancer body soft yet firm, ripe yet fresh, young and healthy and so eager, so wanton, Greta had the odd sensation as she touched Tara that she was touching herself. Their hands were explorers finding cheekbones and hipbones, shoulder blades and precise little knees, the swell of thighs, the pattern of ribs that Greta thought of as a musical instrument and Tara plucked at her strings until she sang. She sucked at her lips and made her sigh with new pleasures as her pointed tongue bathed the hollow of her throat, a neglected wee place that Greta was glad was finally receiving some attention. Tara moved slowly down and down until her tongue wormed its way through the damp undergrowth into Greta’s heaving sex.
Tara lapped at her pussy like a pussy cat lapping milk, licking and sucking, a hot gooey puddle appearing beneath Greta’s bottom as the oils flowed from her. Greta spread herself as wide as she could. She wanted Tara to spiral up inside her body until she disappeared and they were one. Tara had manoeuvred her way in a circle and now clamped her naked pussy back over Greta’s lips. Tara’s syrupy dew trickled down her throat and Greta’s mind went back again to those pyjama parties at school when everyone took off their pyjamas and she recalled nostalgically that there is nothing like the taste of girls.
They sixty-nined until Tara went into spasm and when she climaxed once more Greta felt all the tension flowing from her friend’s stiff young body. She turned and they snuggled under the covers like two little animals in a basket. Tara had small, pert, pointed breasts with nipples that were hard and hot to the touch.
‘You needed that,’ Greta said.
‘And how.’ Tara licked Greta’s little sea shell ear and whispered. ‘I didn’t know you were like that?’
‘Aren’t we all like that?’
‘We are now.’
They kissed and giggled and played with each other’s breasts. Tara slid back down again below the duvet and drank like a pony from the well of Greta’s chalice. Greta shuddered and sighed.
‘That’s so nice.’
‘I’ve wanted to do it for such a long time,’ Tara murmured.
‘You only had to ask.’
‘But how was I to know?’
‘I would have thought it was obvious,’ Greta said.
‘Greta May, you’re getting so conceited.’
Greta thought about that, but quite the opposite was true. She’d been living in a daze, unconscious, unaware of her... potential. She stroked the top of Tara’s head and, when Tara had taken her fill, she slithered like a creepy crawly up Greta’s body and kissed her again, a long, silky soft kiss like only girls can. The room was hung with carnal smells, with girlie scents, with oestrogen, and Greta was suddenly starving.
‘Let’s eat,’ she said, and swung her legs from the bed.
She put some water on to boil and cooked spaghetti à la puttanesca while Tara ran out to the corner store for a bottle of Italian red. Greta didn’t bother to get dressed and enjoyed the cold air hardening her nipples as she reached into the refrigerator for sparkling water. She scratched her matted pubes while she stirred the pasta.
When Tara got back, the bottle of wine nearly slipped from her fingers. She screamed at the top of her voice and pointed at Greta’s bottom.
‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’
‘What?’ Greta turned. ‘Oh, that.’
‘Your bum, Greta. Has someone been hitting you?’
Greta nodded. ‘Twice, actually.’
‘Oh, no, was it that man?’
Greta licked the pasta spoon. ‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘And how.’
Tara looked confused. ‘Poor thing. It’s all red. Doesn’t it hurt?’
Greta nursed her bottom cheeks and then turned to take a closer look. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘It does at the time, it hurts like hell, but it doesn’t last long.’
Tara bent to take a closer look. There were six crimson stripes evenly spaced across Greta’s cheeks, the first six
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