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make my treasure available to you.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Garner. I promise, I won’t disappoint you.” Victoria Parker, nineteen, spent another afternoon with her tongue in Lorelei Garner’s glorious pussy cat. And yes, whenever she came up for air, she thanked the woman as old as her grandmother, repeatedly.

“Miss Lorelei, I never thought a woman’s treasure could be so beautiful.”

It wasn’t just Veronica Parker.

“Addy, I would be pleased if you would tell me that my treasure is not just beautiful but also sweet.”

Adelaide Phillips did just that; spending hours and hours on her knees. “Miss Lorelei, you have the sweetest treasure,” she said to the red head, whose hair was no longer red, but now flexed with grey whose fiery pussy cat remained intriguing.

“”You’re a wonderful young woman, Addy. You deserve more. I happen to know that Kelly O’Reilly would be interested in getting to know you; specifically, she’d love to discover the joy of your kitty.”

“Oh, Miss Lorelei, that would be so wonderful. After pleasing your treasure, my kitty is leaking down my thighs; I’m sure it could use the attention of Miss Kelly.”

Lorilei Garner was not oblivious to why these young women attached themselves to her. It was her red hair, which of course led to her red kitty, which led to their tongues never getting enough.

Miss Garner made it her business to recruit young women with red hair. Boston, with its heavy Irish population, made it easy. That’s where she found Kelly O’Reilly.

Not just red heads. There were lots of women with blonde hair, but the question was, did the hair between their legs reflect the hair on their head? Sappho’s Sisters discovered that many blondes had light, light brown pubic hair. Blonde pubic hair was a rarity; rarer than women like Lorelei Garner.

Enter Ingrid Nordgren, born in Sweden, who came to Boston as a baby. There were other blondes among the members, but as I noted their pubic hair was brown, a light brown, but brown. Not Ingrid’s.

It was not unusual for a woman like Cilla Greenwood to take a neophyte to a private room where she might discover the delightful treasure this young woman hid beneath her dress. “Miss Nordgren, your poems seem to indicate that you are curious about a woman’s breasts.”

“Ummm,” Ingrid blushed, “they seem to be so soft, so, I’m not sure of the right words, but womanly comes to mind, but Miss Greenwood, I’ve only seen them in Greek and Roman art.”

“But you’d like to, in real life?”

“Yes, and I have to say, at my age I suppose I should be interested in what boys have, but I’m not. I guess that’s why I’m here.”

“And curious?” Cilla was unbuttoning the top of her dress, as they sat together on a sofa. Over the years it became customary at the meetings of the sisterhood to forgo undergarments.

The young woman was shocked when Cilla Greenwood kissed her on the mouth and then was further shocked when Cilla stuck her tongue in her mouth. It did not get any better when Miss Greenwood lowered the top half of her dress to her waist and guided Ingrid’s hand to her breast. “Miss Nordgren, satisfy your curiosity. My breasts are yours.”

Cilla Greenwood had large breasts when she first came to the group. Other women enjoyed them, of course they did. Now, at her age they sagged; balloons, as she called them. It didn’t matter to Ingrid, she was fascinated. Her hands were all over them. “You may kiss them, Ingrid.”

It must be a normal human reaction, going back to breast feeding, the Swedish woman’s lips, tongue and mouth went straight to Cilla’s nipples. “Thank you, Miss Greenwood.”

Ingrid Nordgren spent much of the next hour becoming familiar with those huge, soft, saggy breasts. Cilla let her, She’d been through this before. Her patience always paid off. It might take a little longer with this one, but in the end, she’d get what she wanted. What all the women wanted.

“Miss Nordgren, your hands and mouth have me so excited. You can tell by how hard my nipples are.” They were indeed hard, Ingrid noted as her tongue played with them and she sucked them, while her hands squeezed her softer than soft breasts.

“But Ingrid, a woman my age rarely gets the opportunity to enjoy the delights of a woman your age.” Cilla put a hand on the young woman’s breast.

Miss Nordgren didn’t stop her; she didn’t stop her when she unbuttoned the top of her dress; she didn’t stop her when she lowered her dress off her shoulders, and she didn’t stop her when she felt her breasts through her camisole. In fact, “let me.” Ingrid pulled her camisole over her head.

“Ingrid, you are lovely.” The young woman blushed. No one had seen her breasts before. Reluctantly, she removed her hands which had been playing with the other woman’s breasts and covered her own. “No need to be shy, Ingrid. We’re both women; interested in the same thing.” Cilla guided her hands back to those big soft balloons, then gently caressed the young woman’s firm breasts; her hand gliding over her nipples.

It should be no surprise that Cilla Greenwood over the past forty years had seduced young girls before; too numerous to count. There wasn’t one in all that time that she didn’t find delightful, and she was highly skilled at this game of seduction.

You should also not be surprised that less than an hour later, Ingrid lay naked with her legs spread. “You are the most beautiful young woman,” Cilla said, as she slid a hand from Ingrid’s breasts to her stomach and then even lower.

You might think after all these years, Cilla wouldn’t be curious, but she’d discovered that every woman looked a little different; tasted a little different and had a different fragrance. If pressed, blindfolded she could identify the fragrance of her old friend and mentor Priscilla Randolph from other women.

Now, she was curious about Ingrid Nordgren’s kitty. The first thing she noticed, of course, was the color. Ingrid was a blonde on top, and just as blonde, perhaps even more so below; so blonde, it was almost white. Secondly, and this was common in that time period, it was huge. Women didn’t do much grooming in that era; women didn’t do any grooming in that era. It was difficult enough to keep their legs smooth.

Many women, especially women of their class, wore silk stockings, and definitely wore them when engaged in a romantic encounter. The safety razor had yet to be invented, and the work of using a straight edge was far beyond the time and effort needed to keep their legs smooth.

Today, Ingrid Nordgren was wearing silk stockings. Even though she never expected what was happening to happen, her garters were fashionable.

She was blushing and shaking as Cilla’s fingers played with her curlies. “Ingrid, you have the loveliest honeypot, thank you for so willingly sharing it with me. I promise to be gentle.”

Willing would not have been the word the young woman would have used. Resigned, perhaps. Maybe, inevitable. However, an hour later, as first Miss Greenwood’s fingers and then her tongue became friendly with her young kitty, Ingrid might have used the word “thankful.”

Thankful that Cilla Greenwood was gentle; thankful that she knew what a girl like Ingrid needed before she knew it herself; thankful that Cilla knew what Ingrid wanted before Ingrid knew herself.

Her tongue played with her slit; “Ingrid, you have the most beautiful kitty and the tastiest honeypot. Just lay back and let me take you to places only another woman can.”

Her tongue massaged the pinkest clitoris you’ll ever see. It took a minute, maybe two for the nerve endings in that sensitive clitoris for young Ingrid’s to reach her brain. When they did, her whole world reacted involuntarily. There was movement in her hips and ass; there were noises that weren’t English; not Swedish either. Primeval noises. Noises that resonated off the walls and could be heard throughout Daisy Jackson’s mansion.

Long-time members knew those sounds; they’d heard them before; they’d made them themselves and hoped when their novice members’ tongues became acquainted with their old pussy cats, they’d squeal like that.

When Cilla Greenwood had satisfied herself with the taste of young Ingrid Norgren’s kitty, and was certain, the young Swede was not just satisfied, but would be anxious to come back for more, she crawled up next to her, and took her into her arms, against her breasts. “Miss Greenwood, that was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. Thank you.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was, my dear.” She stroked Ingrid’s blonde hair. “Rest now; enjoy the moment. There will be more where that came from, I assure you.”

Somewhat later, Cilla Greenwood undressed and explained what happened next. What happened next was that the naked Cilla took the naked Ingrid Nordgren by the hand and they walked throughout the mansion to the parlor. Ingrid still had a smile on her face from her first experience with woman-to-woman love. On the other hand, she was embarrassed to be seen naked.

As for Cilla, she walked proudly. She’d just deflowered the lovely Ingrid Nordgren. Her face recently left that blonde kitty. “Delightful,” “lovely,” “tasty.” And to her dear friend, Lorelei Garner,” you just have to try her. There’s never been a finer honeypot in all my years.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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