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then lower and lower, not spending much time on her generous breasts.

Maneuvering on to her knees on the floor, Elvira’s hands spread the young woman’s knees apart. “Miss Garner, you are sight. A lovely sight.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ve never . . .”

“Of course you haven’t. I’d be honored if I was the first. If I may toot my own horn, I have a reputation for bringing women unimaginable pleasures.”

Elvira Van Wie could not wait any longer. Lorelei Garner’s thick red bush was, in her eyes, beautiful.

What happened next had the young Miss Garner, in today’s parlance, climbing the walls. Mrs. Van Wie was not exaggerating when she said that she brought women unimaginable pleasures. Her tongue could not get enough of Lorelei’s young kitty.

It didn’t take long for Lorelei’s kitty to insist on Elvira’s tongue again and again. “Mrs. Van Wie, oh, Mrs. Van Wie I never knew it would be like this. Please don’t stop.”

Later that afternoon Elvira Van Wie and Lorelei Garner walked hand-in-hand through Daisy Jackson’s mansion to the parlor where the others had gathered. Like the others, they were naked. Like the other neophytes who had just experienced their first woman-to-woman love, Loreli’s eyes were sparkling.

As for Elvira, she whispered as she passed the other, original members, “fascinating, intriguing, enchanting, you must try her.”

Over the next few months, every mature woman in the club, not only tried Lorelie’s kitty, but were just as mesmerized. Still when Lorelei walked around naked, they all stared, and salivated.

The young woman did not flaunt what she had; but she quickly learned that if there was a woman she was interested in, it was easy to sway her into a private meeting, where Lorelei just lay back, spread her legs an allow the other woman, a woman with years and years of experience to enjoy her girlish charms. “Ma’am, I’ve heard you have a marvelous tongue, I’d love for you to rub your face in my delightful womanhood and your tongue in my sweet treasure.”

However, Loreli, herself, had her eyes on Mrs. Elvira Van Wie, who as you know was her first. With that in mind, it was easy for Elvira to convince young Lorelei that reciprocity was an appropriate response, and with Elvira’s guidance Lorelei was soon enjoying the sweetness of the older woman’s honeypot.

As Mrs. Van Wie was the first to become familiar with that red kitty, she was also the first to introduce Loreli to the joys of the taste of a woman.

The younger woman was jubilant at her discovery, and for weeks insisted that Elvira invite her to her home whenever she was in the mood. “Mrs. Van Wie, I can be there at a moment’s notice. My tongue can’t get enough of your honeypot.”

“And Loreli, I can’t get enough of yours.” It wasn’t called that at the time, but their favorite way of pleasing each other was 69-ing.

As for Henrietta Horton, she had her eyes on Catherine LeMaire, who try as she might, found it impossible to completely hide her breasts even though the fashion of the day should have made it easy. Henrietta’s mouth was salivating at the possibilities as she took Catherine to one of the Jackson guest bedrooms.

Henrietta never got past young Catherine’s breasts, but the young woman was curious about what the mature Henrietta had inside her knickers. The highlight of their afternoon together was Catherine’s tongue, under the direction of Mrs. Horton discovering the loveliest taste she could imagine.

While Gladys played the violin, Wilhemina Morley sat at her feet, captivated by the way the mature woman carried herself. When she finished playing, Wilhemina praised her playing ability as Gladys guided her to the Jackson Study. A Study where she and Abigil Andress had renewed their familiarity on a number of occasions.

Gladys read Wilhemina one of her more sensuous sonnets. After that it was easy to get the young woman to undress for her.

Wilhemina unbuttoned the top of her dress. “Mrs. Wortham, I’ve always wondered what the touch of a woman might feel like. Would you . . .?”

“Are you suggesting that I’m the first? I am honored, Wilhemina. I’ll be certain to make sure that your first time is special.”

Wilhemina Morley was not what we would call an attractive girl. Short and chunky, she’d never been courted. She’d never been invited to any of the fashionable balls that were all the rage for Boston’s young people.

So, when Gladys Wortham paid attention to her, Wilhemina was pliable. “Willie,” as Gladys called her, “I’ll be gentle. Just lay back and let Mrs. Wortham take good care of you.”

Mrs. Wortham was on her knees and young Wilhemina was naked and had her legs spread. “Willie, your kitty is delightful. I’m sure it will taste as delightful as it looks. Within the hour, Wilhemina Morley was in a state she’d never experienced before and was begging Gladys for the opportunity to taste her pussy cat.

“Miss Morley, I can’t imagine a more delightful taste than your kitty. Can I interest you in having my tongue do your sweet kitty one more time?”

“One more? Oh no, Mrs. Wortham, five times, ten times. I’ve never had a feeling like this.”

Later, young Wilhemina Morley helped Mrs. Wortham undress and for the first time tasted a woman. “My honeypot is all yours, Willie. Take your time, relax, enjoy my sweetness.”

Over the next few months, although still married, Gladys Wortham and young Wilhemina became partners; seeing each other two sometimes three time a week. Most of that time, Wilhemina willingly serviced the older woman’s pussy cat. “Gladys, there aren’t enough hours in the day for my tongue to please you.” Although, their time together rarely ended without, “Willie, before you go, Mrs. Wortham would like just a little taste of your honeypot. Just a little.” It might be an hour or two later before they finally departed.

Priscilla Randolph had been listening to Gladys play the violin. She was sitting next to a young woman. “Isn’t it coincidental, that we found ourselves sitting next to each other,” she said to Priscilla Greenwood.

“I wonder if we have anything else in common besides our names? My friends call me Cilla, Mrs. Randolph.”

“Well, Cilla, perhaps by later this afternoon, we can call each other sweetheart.” She took her by the hand and led her to a bedroom where they’d have privacy.

None of the young women were reluctant. Curious and anxious were better words to describe their feelings. They’d all read poems about romantic love; in particular, romantic love between women. None had experienced it.

Four or five, like Gertrude Morefield wrote about this forbidden love but it was only in their deepest fantasies.

“Cilla, let me let you in on a secret. I have been intimate with a number of the women of Sappho’s Sisters,” Priscilla Randolph shared with the young woman.

“Oh?”

“Without exception, they have praised my fragrance, my beauty and my taste. Can I interest you in finding out for yourself?”

“I-I-I, Mrs. Randolph . . .”

“Priscilla, please.”

“Yes, Priscilla, you know this is all new to me, I’ve never. My poetry reflects my feelings, but now, here, I’m not sure.”

Priscilla Randolph took Cilla Greenwood into her arms, guiding her hand to her plump, mature breasts and kissed her on the mouth. “Cilla, knowing what to do is important, desiring to do it is more important. Do you desire me, Cilla?”

“Hmmmm,” Cilla mumbled as they continued their kiss. Her hand exploring Priscilla’s breasts.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, help me with my dress.” Priscilla turned around so Cilla could unbutton the floor-length gown she was wearing.

Cilla was shocked as she unbuttoned button after button as she discovered that Mrs. Randolph wasn’t wearing any undergarments.

The young woman’s hands shook as she reached the point where the dress fell to the floor. “There, now you’re one step closer to fulfilling your desires.” Priscilla sat back on the settee.

Cilla had never seen another woman naked. She thought Mrs. Randolph’s breasts were lovely; in fact, she was jealous. However, she couldn’t keep her eyes from the thick, dark, curly triangle between the matronly woman’s legs.

“Do you like what you see? How about now?” The older woman spread her legs. “Would you like a closer look at my pussy cat?”

Cilla couldn’t explain why, but she got on her knees, between the legs of Mrs. Priscilla Randolph, a woman old enough to be her mother. “Like that. Now, a kiss would be most appropriate.”

It took some coaxing and encouragement, but soon young Miss Greenwood’s tongue was exploring.

Before the afternoon ended, young Cilla Greenwood confessed that Mrs. Randolph’s delicious pussy cat was the most amazing thing ever. “You have the most incredible taste. I’d be pleased if you called on me day or night to serve you; to satisfy you.”

“And Cilla, admit it, to satisfy yourself.”

“Yes, Mrs. Randolph. My mouth craves your taste.”

By late that first afternoon, the young women of the North End Young Women’s Academy were no longer innocent. When they gathered for some refreshments, all eight girls spoke glowingly of their encounters.

No one was sure how it started or who started it, perhaps it was one of the young women. “I found Mrs. Wortham’s pussy cat most delightful, and I have to say she made my kitty squeal.”

In the language of Sappho’s Sisters, the mature women had pussy cats, and the younger women had kittys. As in “Abigail, you’ve met Hortense, I think you’ll find her kitty a delight,” Elvira Van Wie introduced the young, but not as innocent as she was a few hours ago, woman.

Young Hortense Sinnett blushed. “Mrs. Andress, I hope one day to find your pussy cat irresistible.”

“Miss Sinnett, why don’t you let me find out now if your kitty is as Mrs. van Wie claims. Come with me.”

Abigail Andress took Hortense Sinnett by the hand and led her to her boudoir. “Hortense, you’re lovely, but I’d like to discover if you are as lovely naked as you are dressed. I’ll join you.”

“Ummmmm, Mrs. Andress . . .”

“Abigail. Here, turn around, let me help you with your dress.”

When the top of the young woman’s dress was to her waist and Abigail helped her pull her camisole over her head. “Oh, Hortense, your breasts are beautiful. As beautiful as I’ve ever seen.”

Hortense blushed and covered her bosoms. That only served to direct Mrs. Andress’ attention to the rest of her dress. Soon, Hortense’s dress was piled around her feet, and she stood there in her knickers.

“Hortense, I said, I’d join you. No reason for you to do this alone.” Abigail unbuttoned her dress which buttoned in the front. To young Hortense’s shock, Mrs. Andress was naked beneath her dress. No camisole, no knickers.

The older woman came into her arms. “I hope that makes you feel more comfortable.” She kissed her on the mouth, and her hand found one of those lovely full breasts. “Elvira, did not do your lovely womanly charms justice. They are beautiful, Hortense,”

“Mrs. Andress thank you. Only Mrs. van Wie has seen them. I’m still a little uncomfortable. You know this is all new to me, but I must confess reading and writing poems about womanly love and then listening to some of the other girls’ poetry has me wondering. “Can you describe the taste of woman for me Mrs. Andress?”

“Hortense, look at us. Both naked, both exploring each other’s breasts. Perhaps this is the perfect time for you to discover a woman’s taste.” Abigail pushed young Hortense’s head down.

There was some resistance but only because Hortense had no idea what to do. “Mrs. Andress, I don’t know . . .”

“Of course you don’t. “Hortie, it is the job of mature women like me to teach young girls like you how to please another woman, but you have to be willing?”

“Oh, I am, Mrs. Andress, I am.”

It wasn’t that over the next hour Hortense Sinnett became skilled, it was that she became enthusiastic and the more she ate Mrs. Andress’ pussy cat, the more enthusiastic she became and the more she wanted. To clarify: “eat” was a not word used at the time.

“Mrs. Andress, I hope you invite me back to another meeting of Sappho’s Sisters,” she said as she took a moment to catch her breath, but her eyes never left the older woman’s mature honeypot.

“Miss Sinnett, if I were to invite you again, is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”

“Oh, Mrs. Andress, I would consider it a privilege if you allowed me to enjoy the taste of your pussy cat again. And if I may say, your delicious pussy cat.”

“That’s the perfect answer, Hortense, but why wait until the next meeting. She pushed the young woman’s head forward into her silky curlies.

TO BE CONTINUED

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