thighs. She had her knee-high stockings on, making the softest, roundest parts of her inner thighs look a prize to open.
"You have to ease up to her," Jesse instructed, brushing his knuckles at the inside of her knees as he watched Roscoe to make sure he was paying attention.
Rose smiled and opened her legs more. "Some men go grabbing and snatching at you."
"That ain't right," Roscoe said hurriedly, swallowing hard.
"Go slow, kiss her all over, along her legs." Jesse dipped to show him, his mouth making a long wet line down the inside of Rose's thigh until the skin gleamed like polished ivory.
"It makes my pussy wet when he does that," Rose said cheerfully.
"Hush," Jesse laughed, tickling under her knee. "I'm building suspense."
"Ain't a penny dreadful, Jesse. Mr. Roscoe knows how the story ends, don't he?" she asked, licking her lips and watching Roscoe.
Jesse'd never been able to make out whether she was sincere or not when she charmed the men who came to the Weeping Willow. She'd seemed mighty eager to help him show Roscoe her female mysteries, but it might have been that she was in a snit with Josephine and wanted steal some of Roscoe's attention. (Not that Miss Jo had ever given Roscoe the time of day.)
Whatever Rose's intent, it was working. Roscoe nodded at her, and then shook his head, as if bewitched or flat-out drunk.
Jesse rolled his eyes and plopped down on his belly. "Hitch up this mess, Rose."
She bunched the last of her skirts up to her navel and Roscoe hissed a breath in so loud she giggled and reached out to pat his arm affectionately.
"The trick is to kiss her where it counts," Jesse said, inching forward on his elbows.
"I like my tits kissed. And suckled. But not pinched or tugged on." Rose fondled her breasts idly with one hand as she held her skirts with the other.
Evelyn let the girls go without their corsets when they were upstairs, and all that covered Rose's buxom tits was thin white cotton that showed the pink rounds of her broad nipples.
Jesse kissed her thigh. "We're not focusing on tits. Don't distract him."
"I don't see why you're in charge," Rose said. "It's my pussy, not yours."
"Because I promised Roscoe lessons. And you can't do it yourself."
Jesse glanced up at Roscoe, wondering if they should have liquored him up before the excursion. He looked near fit to pitch off the bed in a swoon.
"Here," he said, taking Roscoe's hand and plopping it down on her warm knee. Hopefully if he felt a swoon coming on, he'd grab a tight hold of her.
"That's nice," Rose said, reaching into her blouse to fiddle with her nipple. She blew her hair out of her face as she leaned forward to watch Jesse more intently.
"Stroke her first, soft-like." Jesse ran his fingers through the pale blonde hair that covered her mound. He traced the fat lips and then crooked one finger up her slit slowly.
"Oh," Rose said, shuddering.
Roscoe's voice was dry and hoarse when he said, "I've never looked closely. Being with a woman, intimately. You look fine, Miss Rose." His fingers gripped at Rose's knee so hard the skin dimpled. She patted his hand gently to remind him to let up.
Rose left Jesse's fingertip gleaming and he stroked a few more times, just following the tight crease.
"You have to open her," Jesse said, hushed. "Find her pink bits."
He used his thumbs to spread her open carefully, revealing the high shine of the hairless flesh inside, all the little folds and the flushed hole.
"Diddle me," Rose whispered, clutching Roscoe's wrist and watching Jesse. "Don't tease now."
Jesse licked his finger for good measure, getting it slippery before he ran his fingertip around the warm little pearl at the top of her slit.
"Well, fuck me," Rose gasped out. "Yes."
"See? She likes it there." Jesse laughed and nudged up closer. "Rose says it's her tiny prick."
She slapped him upside the head. "Don't tell him that."
"Ow," he groaned, still laughing and feeling warm playing with her like this, with Roscoe
"You have to ease up to her," Jesse instructed, brushing his knuckles at the inside of her knees as he watched Roscoe to make sure he was paying attention.
Rose smiled and opened her legs more. "Some men go grabbing and snatching at you."
"That ain't right," Roscoe said hurriedly, swallowing hard.
"Go slow, kiss her all over, along her legs." Jesse dipped to show him, his mouth making a long wet line down the inside of Rose's thigh until the skin gleamed like polished ivory.
"It makes my pussy wet when he does that," Rose said cheerfully.
"Hush," Jesse laughed, tickling under her knee. "I'm building suspense."
"Ain't a penny dreadful, Jesse. Mr. Roscoe knows how the story ends, don't he?" she asked, licking her lips and watching Roscoe.
Jesse'd never been able to make out whether she was sincere or not when she charmed the men who came to the Weeping Willow. She'd seemed mighty eager to help him show Roscoe her female mysteries, but it might have been that she was in a snit with Josephine and wanted steal some of Roscoe's attention. (Not that Miss Jo had ever given Roscoe the time of day.)
Whatever Rose's intent, it was working. Roscoe nodded at her, and then shook his head, as if bewitched or flat-out drunk.
Jesse rolled his eyes and plopped down on his belly. "Hitch up this mess, Rose."
She bunched the last of her skirts up to her navel and Roscoe hissed a breath in so loud she giggled and reached out to pat his arm affectionately.
"The trick is to kiss her where it counts," Jesse said, inching forward on his elbows.
"I like my tits kissed. And suckled. But not pinched or tugged on." Rose fondled her breasts idly with one hand as she held her skirts with the other.
Evelyn let the girls go without their corsets when they were upstairs, and all that covered Rose's buxom tits was thin white cotton that showed the pink rounds of her broad nipples.
Jesse kissed her thigh. "We're not focusing on tits. Don't distract him."
"I don't see why you're in charge," Rose said. "It's my pussy, not yours."
"Because I promised Roscoe lessons. And you can't do it yourself."
Jesse glanced up at Roscoe, wondering if they should have liquored him up before the excursion. He looked near fit to pitch off the bed in a swoon.
"Here," he said, taking Roscoe's hand and plopping it down on her warm knee. Hopefully if he felt a swoon coming on, he'd grab a tight hold of her.
"That's nice," Rose said, reaching into her blouse to fiddle with her nipple. She blew her hair out of her face as she leaned forward to watch Jesse more intently.
"Stroke her first, soft-like." Jesse ran his fingers through the pale blonde hair that covered her mound. He traced the fat lips and then crooked one finger up her slit slowly.
"Oh," Rose said, shuddering.
Roscoe's voice was dry and hoarse when he said, "I've never looked closely. Being with a woman, intimately. You look fine, Miss Rose." His fingers gripped at Rose's knee so hard the skin dimpled. She patted his hand gently to remind him to let up.
Rose left Jesse's fingertip gleaming and he stroked a few more times, just following the tight crease.
"You have to open her," Jesse said, hushed. "Find her pink bits."
He used his thumbs to spread her open carefully, revealing the high shine of the hairless flesh inside, all the little folds and the flushed hole.
"Diddle me," Rose whispered, clutching Roscoe's wrist and watching Jesse. "Don't tease now."
Jesse licked his finger for good measure, getting it slippery before he ran his fingertip around the warm little pearl at the top of her slit.
"Well, fuck me," Rose gasped out. "Yes."
"See? She likes it there." Jesse laughed and nudged up closer. "Rose says it's her tiny prick."
She slapped him upside the head. "Don't tell him that."
"Ow," he groaned, still laughing and feeling warm playing with her like this, with Roscoe
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