Taste It

Mouth hanging open, Lois breathed in the heavy scent that now seemed to waft from the book, and the illustration in particular. A warm, animal odor, as familiar as her dirty panties. She leaned closer, feeling saliva fill her mouth, eyes staring at the vanishing perspective of the devil's vulva on the page... And then her tongue touched the paper, just for a moment.

A shiver of mortification ran through Lois, quickly withdrawing her tongue back into her mouth, hoping that she hadn't damaged the book—and was instantly replaced by a moment of shock when the scent increased, musky and strong as a bitch in heat.

Lois stared down at the illustration and for a moment her vision swam...and in the next, the paper seemed to bulge and ripple, as though something was pressing against it from the other side. Fascinated by the almost hypnotic process, Lois watched as the red paint ran and stippled, edges blurring and then growing more distinct, bubbling and swelling out until...until the reporter could not deny that what she was looking at now was not a crude painting of a pussy, but a photorealistic likeness, blossomed out, standing up from the page.

Every little bump on the shaven mound could be made out distinctly, the slight darkening of the scarlet labia toward the outer lips, the almost black inner lips that hug outside of them like curtains, the dark furrow within giving just a hint of bright pink, the darker hood where the clit should be hiding...

Lois ran her hand along the page, to the interface, where the pale vellum ran smoothly into the red flesh...and paused, as her fingertips pressed gently into soft, warm, living flesh that gave at her touch.

The reporter rubbed her thighs together, hyperaware now of all the little signs of life she had missed...the way the flesh seemed to move, slightly, the hint of dark veins beneath the scarlet skin, the way those curtains seemed to part softly as Lois' warm breath blew across it them... Instinctively, she puffed her cheeks and pursed her lips, directing a stream of air toward the mons...and saw it shiver and wobble as the air played over it, moving in response as Lois shifted her position, aiming for that clit...

And there, down near the bottom, the little gap where the lips came together again, Lois could just make out a clear fluid leaking onto the page, running down toward the spine of the book. Keeping her hand well away from the illustration, she placed a finger in the rivulet's path, gathered some up...clear, very fluid, not oily...and brought it close to her nose to smell.

One sniff told her that it was the same odor she had first noticed. Musky. Feminine. Familiar.

Hesitantly, Lois brought the finger to her tongue. Salty, but not bitter; a slight hint of ammonia, as from good cheese... The reporter rubbed her thighs together, feeling a strange thrill. Wondering if this is what women tasted like. She had never even had the courage to taste her own fluids, during masturbation, but now...the reporter stared down at the living vagina that had magically—yes, magically!—grown on the page. Quivering, warm, helpless...she could do anything to it that she wanted...