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Geraldine Johnson wasn’t selfish, but she’d never been the center of attention that she was within the walls of Sappho’s Sisters. The youngest of ten children; she was almost an after-thought. At the North End Academy, the administration fawned over her; pointing out that they had indeed integrated. Her classmates shunned her.

After Mrs. Fletcher gave her seal of approval by walking hand-in-hand with her throughout the mansion, she was accepted. The other women, the ones who had been long-time members wanted a taste and to be tasted.

It was just natural that she used that, not for any nefarious reasons, but to enjoy the company of other women. “Miss Johnson,” forty-eight -year-old Brenda Daley approached her at the next meeting of the society, “Mrs. Fletcher confided in me that I might enjoy a private meeting with you. Will you come with me?”

Once in private Miss Daley did not waste much time; the door to the bedroom closed, and her lips met Geraldine’s. It just came out of the young black girl’s mouth spontaneously, “Miss Daley, I’d like to know what you want?”

You might think it was obvious. Miss Daley thought the girl was naive. Miss Daley had always been a blunt woman. “Ever since you walked in the front door, Miss Johnson I was curious about your taste and your fragrance. When Lillian told me, I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Are you saying . . .”

“Yes, I’m saying I want the pleasure of my lips on your breasts; I want to slide my tongue up and down your juicy womanhood, I want to make you moan so loud that everyone will know that Mrs. Brenda Daley is giving you the time of your life. Everyone will be jealous of what I’m getting.”

“Will you undress for me? Mrs. Fletcher is the only woman I’ve ever seen close up.”

This was not unusual. As you know women walked around naked all the time. Mrs. Fletcher did, but only after she’d enjoyed some woman-to-woman love. It wasn’t until a woman told her she was beautiful, and sweet did she feel comfortable naked.

Brenda Daley was a big woman, with large breasts, fat thighs and rolls of fat around her waist. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know she was unattractive, but the women here made her feel beautiful. They made her feel beautiful when they played with her massive titties; they made her feel beautiful when they knelt in front of her and opened her legs. They made her feel beautiful when they spent hours and hours with their tongue in her honeypot.

Brenda Daley was so grateful that in return she spent hours and hours on her knees. Sometimes she invited a woman to her home where she spent the night or better yet, a weekend, on her knees worshipping their pussy.

Women of the society flocked to her, not because she was beautiful, which as you know, she wasn’t, but because over the years Brenda’s tongue work was as good or better than any other woman in the society. She made every woman feel like she had the most beautiful, tastiest pussy. Her tongue gave them orgasms like they’d never had before. Multiple orgasms like they’d never had before.

As soon as she arrived, three or four women would gather round her. They wouldn’t say it, but they were thinking “pick me, pick me, pick me.” Or “my pussycat is all yours.” Or “Miss Daley, my tongue aches for your honeypot.”

A few times a year, there would be abnormal loud moaning, almost screaming throughout the mansion, and women looked at each other, smiled and asked, “I wonder who Brenda is pleasing today?” Or “who was lucky enough to accept an invitation from Brenda today?”

Today, she didn’t hesitate when young Geraldine Johnson asked her to undress. She stood in front of Geraldine taking off one article of clothing after another. Geraldine’s eyes focused on that dark, thick

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