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“When you have a chance,” I whispered to her during a child’s birthday party at my house, “look in the china cabinet.  Top shelf, extreme left.”

——

Later, when it was her turn, my friend stroked between G’s legs as she reclined shyly on her stomach.  Before long she thrust her bottom into the air and instead of touching, my friend switched to licking her pouty, swollen lips.

I supplied dirty talk, tit-pinching and the occasional cock stroke.

G didn’t realize it, but as her arousal increased, my friend lengthened his tongue-strokes to cover everything from clit to ass. He’s a master of working me up to the point that I lose all sense of the outside world; I become only a clit, a pussy, and a screaming voice.  His talents worked the same on G.  I had to smile as I watched her enjoyment, a sharp contrast to the nervousness she’d expressed earlier.

“Do you know what he’s doing to you?” I smoothed the hair back from her forehead.

Up popped her head.  “No, what?” Her voice was as confused as if she’d just woken from a hundred-year nap.  She rolled to her back and looked at us down the length of her bare body.

My friend told her.  “So that’s what that feels like,” she said.  “Do it some more.”

So he did.  And when the time was right, I lubed up that pretty blue plug and asked her if she wanted it inside her.

“Go slowly,” was her only caution.

I went as slowly as I could with shaking hands, watching all the while my friend’s fingers circle over her fat little clit.

She loved it.  It was in a minute without her knowing.  I let her come and come more before letting her in on the secret; when she knew (and satisfied her disbelief by feeling for herself) she screamed loudly enough that I thanked the universe for giving us a day warm enough to force the shutting of windows and the switching on of air.

I’m not absolutely certain that we replaced her previous bad experience, but I’m satisfied that when her mind now runs to anal play, she’ll have something very pleasant to picture.

——

When the kids were absorbed in crafts, she sidled up to me.  “I love your collection of blue glass,” she said quietly.

“Yes, isn’t it nice?  I’ve been collecting for a long time.”

“I saw your newest piece.”

“I thought you’d like that.” I grinned at her, and then we turned our attention back to the kids.