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Rhiannon discovers true pleasure.

Clare scoots over and whispers to Sheila, "Just relax. Soon enough you'll be one of the girls."

One of the girls... Like a maestro, Clare plays the perfect chord to begin this symphony of sensual delight. Sheila could resist the teasing and the caresses, but she cannot resist the enchanting idea of being one of the girls, her secret wish, her longing all these days from the first time she spied them playfully lounging on their porch in the dappled shade. She looks at Clare, who see each hesitant blink of her eyes like a butterfly darting, its wings in sunbeams amid a field of tantalizing flowers.

Tiger, too, watches those innocent darting eyes, her heart swelling. She sits on the edge of coffee table and looks at them both, at their barely contained trembling, their faces so close. She reaches out and strokes Clare's cheek, her fingers coming to rest on the curve of her lip. "Like chocolate cake, cowboy, tasty and sweet!" Then she presses the back of Sheila's head and leans her into Clare's intent face. Their lips touch, enfolding themselves in plump sweetness as they press in--urgently in--until at last Clare's tongue traces its way onto Sheila's barely parted, panting lips. Tiger narrates, "A first kiss for the young and tender cowboy here at Cheroots to lose 'his' virginity."

The girls all clap and almost get rowdy until Helena shushes them, pointing to the far bedroom where Miss Betty sleeps.

Sheila leans back on the couch looking at them all and shyly smiles, "Well, not the first kiss!" And caresses Tiger's cheek.

Tiger does a mock swoon and buries her face between Clare's legs. Giggling, "Oh, you little whore!" as she reaches under Clare's skirt to tickle her thighs and spread her legs. Soon the dress is up around her waist and Tiger's face is buried between dark parted legs giving her pussy what today is called a raspberry. Clare squirms.

"See what you started? Said you wouldn't tell."

"Sorry, I wanted to tease this little Tiger who is always teasing me just like she's doing now." Sheila says, unable to take her eyes away from Tiger whose head is still between Clare's legs, her pale brown haired head burrowing like a hungry rabbit into the black tunnel formed between those trembling thighs. The noises have stopped, but now Sheila notices Clare's bloomers are pulled aside. Tiger's face must be touching...!

Suddenly, Tiger gets up and leans into Sheila, her lips wet, her face fragrant and kisses her full on the month, pausing only to slip a wily tongue between Sheila's lips. Panting as she frees the surprised girl, Tiger says, "Just like Blackie said, I don't mind sharing my sweethearts."

Blackie's eyes shift to the door, she hears footsteps on the wood porch. Tiger tenses when she hears Blackie say, "Someones on the porch!"

Holding tight to Sheila's hand Tiger hurries her out of the room. Clare follows. Down the hall, at the first door on the right, they enter a narrow room dominated by a bed tucked into the corner and a short dresser with a water bowl and a pitcher--one of the stalls. Sinking onto the bed they press their faces against the wall and listen.

"Ladies!" comes a voice from the other side of the wall. "Looks like you got company."

"Just a cowpoke." They hear Helen say.

"Little early, ain't it?" the man says.

Clare, her finger to her lips, is watching Sheila. The girl looks intent, focusing on the man's voice.

"Betty 'round?"

"Still sleeping" Tricksie says. "You want a sit?"

"Won't be long now," Tiger whispers in Sheila's ear.

"You girls leave your shoes out?" the man says as he sits down on the couch next to Tricksie. The shoes look familiar almost like the boots his daughter wears to hike around where she don't belong.

Tricksie kicks them under the couch. "Yeah!" and scoots next to the man, until she is pressed against his thigh. "Want somethin' to drink or ya want me?" and giggles.

Sheila's eyes widen as the man says, "You'll do.

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