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I wound one hair carefully around a fingertip so I could brush it against my moist lips, and then deposited it carefully on my tongue. My mouth felt parched, apparently all of the moisture in it had been pulled south to my throbbing slit by Jenny’s performance. Darryl and I stared at her, mesmerized, as she finally kicked off both her cutoffs and the absolutely drenched pair of low-rise hiphuggers that had been concealed beneath them. She looked as delicious as she had earlier in the morning, and I just knew I had to suck those puffy shining folds on display beneath her neat little pubic patch. Precum oozed from the slit atop Darryl’s urgently throbbing cock, and it looked like he might blow his wad right there. ‘Shit, you need it bad, don’tcha?’ he grunted, watching Jenny extract a gleaming finger from herself and lightly coat her nipples. He made a grab for her, but she undulated just out of reach. ‘Oh, I need it really bad,’ Jenny teased, making my blood boil. ‘How bad do you need. Yes, this is true. Are you angry with me?” Maria asked. Jutta said no. “Did the Count and I … frighten you?” Maria asked. Jutta looked into the young nun’s big brown eyes and pretty face. “Fright would be the wrong word.” She lacked the nuance in Venetian Italian to express her feelings. Maria offered another phrase, something that landed between startled and excited. Jutta nodded. “Samira, leave us now,” Maria said as she picked up a sponge. Fatima spoke little Italian, but she seemed to understand a change in the interaction. She and Maria now both sponged Jutta more sensually. They lingered longer on her sensitive nipples. They parted her buttocks to press the rose water in deeply against her most sensitive skin. And they stroked Jutta’s inner thighs with both sponge and hands. Jutta looked down at the lovely Fatima, dressed in a simple frock that, when she knelt and bent before Jutta, revealed her own alluring breasts. And she looked at Maria, dressed as she normally was in.
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