The androgynous blonde sprawled half on an oversized armchair with her boy-slim rump half
over the edge. Her neat, Oxford-shod, feet rested on a footstool. She was face-up,
apparently asleep, with one arm of the chair under her slender neck. Her platinum hair was
cut in schoolboy style, short back and sides, sleekly pomaded and precision-parted on the
left. Judging by their bruise-blue lids, her eyes were enormous. She had high, prominent
cheekbones, thin scarlet lips and a narrow pointed chin.
	 Leslie’s navy pinstriped suit would have been very masculine if it hadn’t been tailored
to fit her willowy form. Her shirt was starched and brilliantly white, divided by a dark
blue tie with a faint maroon stripe. Her hands were thrust deeply into the pockets of her
pleated wide-legged trousers. Her chest was flat, but in a girlish way.  A Charleston
played, muted, in the background. There was the ‘click’ of a door opening. The music was
louder for a moment. Another click muffled it again.
	Two ‘flappers’ backed in on tiptoe with their arms around each other’s waists. They
turned to face each other, oblivious to the sleeping girl. One hooked her fingers and drew
her fingers slowly down the front of her friend’s dress. Her nails dragged over the tiny
bumps that betrayed the presence of diminutive nipples. The other shivered in delight.
They swayed closer. Thighs fitted between thighs. Each bore down to rub her pubes slowly
and lasciviously on the other’s leg in rhythm with the distant beat.
	Fay’s hair was bubbles of bright brass, cinched in a beaded headband. Her ivory
tasselled dress hung straight to a fingertip-length hem.
	Moira’s hair was a glossy black helmet, flipped forward at her cheeks. Her dress was a
blue and white shirt-waister, sashed around her hips, loosely straight below, bloused
above.
	Both girls wore white silk stockings, rolled just above their dimpled knees. Their black
patent leather shoes had rounded toes and Cuban heels.
	The music changed to a tango. The girls gripped each other’s bottoms and squeezed as
they gyrated subtly, increasing the pressure of pubes on thighs. One leaned backwards,
thrusting her hips forward. As her head tilted, she saw Leslie on the armchair.
	‘Oh!’
	Both straightened, flushed with guilt at being ‘caught’ in their Sapphic play. Relieved
when they saw that Leslie was asleep, their expressions changed. Fay put a finger to her
lips. Moira nodded.
	They circled the sleeper, smothering giggles behind their palms. Fay dared to stroke
Leslie’s soft cheek with the backs of her fingers. Moira, more daring, drifted a hand
across the fly supine girl’s pants.
	Leslie didn’t move, though the shadow of a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. Made
bold by the lack of movement, Fay bent to plant the ghost of a kiss on Leslie’s feral
lips. Moira’s fingers traced the bulge that ran from the base of Leslie’s fly to her
waistband. Her mouth formed a pleasantly surprised ‘O.’ She exchanged glances with Fay.
	Fay nodded a challenge. Posing demurely, she slowly drew the hem of her dress up. It
rose to expose dimpled pink thighs, to the creases at her groin, then higher, uncovering
the sweet slit of a plump bald pussy, the curve of a soft belly and the subtle dimple of
her navel. She moved closer. The silky skin of one inner thigh brushed delicately against
one of Leslie’s soft cheeks. Fay shot Moira a challenging glance, as if to say, ‘Beat
this.’
	In response, Moira fumbled the top button of Leslie’s fly open, then the next, and down
to the last.
	Fay spread her thighs, put a hand to her pussy and parted its lips. Swaying, she
caressed Leslie’s cheek with her sex’s pulpy inner lips. They left a glistening trail.
	Moira pouted. Tentative slender fingers delved into the parted fly and drew out eight
inches of incredibly realistic black imitation cock.
	Both flappers gasped in lustful admiration. Maintaining eye contact with her naughty
friend, Fay carefully loosened Leslie’s tie. She moved it aside and began to pop the
buttons of her pristine shirt.
	Moira nodded encouragement, loosely stroking the deliciously obscene phallus between a
finger and thumb. Her free hand drew up her own skirt’s hem. Her muff had been trimmed
into a neat arrowhead that pointed to the ridge of her clitoris. One finger flickered,
coaxing a tiny pink pip to peek out between lips that were slowly engorging.
	Fay tugged one side of Leslie’s shirt up and aside, to bare half her chest. A pale pink
nipple sat on a barely discernable swelling that in turn adorned a boyish ribcage.
	The flappers looked at each other as if to ask, ‘How far dare we go?’ Moira shrugged and
braced herself. She stooped, lush lips parted. They touched the bulbous knob of the mock
cock and lowered to slide it into the wet warmth of her mouth.
	Fay sniffed in derision. Her weight shifted onto her right leg. She lifted her left,
passed it over Leslie’s upturned face and planted its foot on the far arm of the chair.
Her parted quim hovered inches above the supine girl’s mouth. She spread it wider.
	Moira nodded again, twice, her movement performing double service – urging Fay on and
felating Leslie’s mock-cock.
	Fay drew back on her clit’s hood with two fingers.
	Moira nodded yet again.
	Fay began to stroke herself, slowly and deliberately. She lowered her pubes an inch. She
was masturbating so close to Leslie’s face, not quite touching, that she had to be filling
the girl’s nostrils with the heady aroma of her arousal. If one glistening drop of the
moisture that coated her inner lips were to fall, it had nowhere to land but directly on
Leslie’s slightly parted lips.
	 Moira slurped free of the imitation cock and stood. She straddled Leslie’s calves and
walked, wide-legged, up to her hips. She bent the black imitation cock to rub its
glistening dome between the flaccid lips of her sex.
	Fay dared to reach a finger to rest its pad on the peak of Leslie’s nipple and wobble
it. The fingers at her quim moved faster. She delicately rolled the nipple between her
fingers.
	 Moira bent even lower. To Fay’s delight, she was treated to the sight of the thick
phallus sinking deeper and deeper into her friend’s tight little quim. Hard black rubber
distended yielding pink flesh, stretching it into an obscene clinging rim. When she had
forced half the invader’s rigid length into herself, Moira paused. ‘I bet she passed out
from too much bubbly. We could play any games we liked with her without waking her up.’
	‘You think so?’ Fay whispered.
	In response, Moira forced herself down, inch-by-inch, until the rest of the cock was
fully imbedded in her softness. She rocked on it. Lust distorted her pretty face. ‘See?’
	‘Hm!’ Moira dipped two fingers into her own wet depths, drew them out moist with her dew
and stroked crystalline fluid across Leslie’s lips. ‘When she wakes, she’ll taste me,’ she
giggled. ‘She won’t know whose juice it is that she’s tasting!’
	‘Give her more!’
	Moira frotted wildly with three fingers, directing the splatter from her pussy at
Leslie’s mouth.