Chapter 4: The Next Level
Marie entered Noémie's room, the blonde's hand resting on the curve of her buttocks, a possessive brand through the fabric of her dress. The bed dominated the space, a plush island in the soft, vanilla-scented gloom. Noémie turned her and kissed her, a deep, claiming kiss that tasted of wine and the earlier salt of Marie's own skin. Then, with efficient grace, she unbuttoned Marie's dress. It whispered to the floor, a puddle of forgotten propriety. A deft hand unhooked her bra.
Marie stood naked, the cool air a shock on her skin. Noémie took a few seconds to look at her, her gaze a slow, appraising scan that left Marie feeling flayed and electrified. Then, Noémie undressed herself. The jeans, the top, the lace underwear—all discarded with an unhurried confidence that was its own seduction.
When Marie saw Noémie completely naked, she thought her body was truly perfect. The symmetry, the unmarked skin, the firm curves—it was the body of a woman who had not yet been carved by time and motherhood. At her age, it was easier than at Marie's, especially after two pregnancies. Like many young women, her vulva was practically shaved, leaving only a faint, blonde shadow.
Noémie took Marie's hand, her grip firm, and they both climbed onto the bed. The silk sheets were cool. Noémie positioned herself with her back to the headboard and spread her legs, an open, demanding V.
“Your turn,” Noémie said. Her voice allowed no refusal. “Eat my pussy.”
Marie’s breath hitched. “I’ve… I’ve never done it before.”
Noémie didn’t care. Her eyes were dark pits. “Come here.”
Marie lay down opposite her, her head hovering between Noémie’s thighs. The scent was immediate, musky and sweet, utterly female. She didn’t have time to react. While still speaking, Noémie had grabbed a fistful of Marie’s brunette hair, now loose from its bun, and guided her head forward with a firm, insistent pressure.
“Don’t think. Just taste.”
A second later, Marie’s lips were pressed against Noémie’s vulva. The skin was smooth, the flesh beneath soft and giving. Almost automatically, she stuck out her tongue and began licking. A tentative, flat stroke.
“Mmm.” Noémie’s moan was a low vibration.
Marie repositioned herself more comfortably, getting onto her elbows, and began to play with her tongue. She licked up the seam of her, finding a rhythm. She heard Noémie moan again—a sharper, “Ah!”—as she did so. She had never done this before, but surprisingly, it didn’t disgust her. On the contrary, the taste of Noémie’s vulva—tangy, rich, profoundly intimate—excited her even more, and she felt her own vulva getting wet again, a fresh slickness gathering between her own thighs.
Marie was hesitant, her movements awkward. But, as she would have done with a man unfamiliar with female anatomy, Noémie guided her. A hand back in her hair, pulling her to the right spot. “There. Use the tip. Yes. Like that.”
Marie was a quick learner. With her head buried between Noémie’s thighs, she could hear her moaning, expressing herself in a raw stream of consciousness. “Fuck… yeah… right there, you bitch… don’t stop…”
Encouraged, Marie took more initiative. She focused on the hard little nub of Noémie’s clitoris, circling it, then sucking it gently between her lips. Noémie’s hips bucked. “Shit! Yes!”
Emboldened, Marie used her fingers, sliding one inside Noémie’s opening, which was slick and tight around her. Then another. She fucked her with her fingers, slowly, then faster, matching the rhythm of her tongue on her clit.
Noémie’s curses became a desperate chant. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna come… make me come, you married slut…”
The words, so filthy, so true, sent a jolt through Marie. She redoubled her efforts, sucking hard, curling her fingers deep. Noémie’s body went rigid. A guttural cry tore from her throat, wordless and raw, as her climax hit. Her cunt clenched rhythmically around Marie’s fingers, wet heat pulsing.
Marie, her jaw aching, began to pull away. But the hand in her hair pressed down, urgent, forcing her face back into the dripping flesh.
“Again,” Noémie gasped, her voice ragged. “Don’t you fucking stop. I’m not done.”
Marie didn’t hesitate. She ate her out with a newfound hunger, licking up the release, lapping at her oversensitive clit until Noémie was squirming, her cries a mix of pleasure and protest. “Too much… ah!… don’t… fuck…” But Marie persisted, and soon Noémie was cresting again, a shorter, sharper peak that ended with a broken sob.
When Marie finally raised her head, the lower part of her face was wet, glistening with Noémie’s juices. She felt drunk on it.
Noémie made her sit up and kissed her deeply, sharing her own taste. Then she pushed Marie down onto her back. “Stay.”
Noémie got out of bed and went to a dresser. She opened a drawer, the sound loud in the quiet room. She took out a harness and a dildo, turning her back to Marie as she attached the straps. When Noémie turned around, Marie swore, the words violently crude.
“Holy fucking hell.”
The dildo, shaped like a penis, was impressively large. Thick, veined, and alarmingly realistic in its dusky silicone hue. It was much bigger than her husband’s penis. At least twice its size.
Noémie climbed onto the bed. Marie, who was sitting up, instinctively recoiled, scooting back against the headboard as Noémie approached on her knees, the monstrous thing jutting from her pelvis.
Noémie didn’t pause. She closed the distance and placed the broad, silicone head against Marie’s parted lips.
Marie flinched, turning her face away. “Noémie, I can’t—”
In an authoritative, commanding voice that brooked no argument, Noémie gripped her chin and forced her head back.
“Suck it,” she ordered, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “Get it nice and wet for your cunt. Now.”
The cool, rubbery tip pressed insistently against Marie’s mouth. A tear, of shame or wild excitement, she couldn’t tell, spilled from her eye as she opened her lips.