Yvonne LeBeau

When Rick and Signor Ferrai headed towards the enclosed court yard, they stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing through the glass panes what was happening on the other side.

Just as Signor Ferrai had predicted, Yvonne was indeed clawing at Amira. But it was the housekeeper's bare breasts, not her eyes. The shapely, womanly Arabian woman was lying on the chaise lounge, her thighs wide apart, her lower legs dangling over the sides. Nestled in the center of her thighs was Yvonne LeBeau, just as naked as Amira was (with the exception of still wearing her white high heel shoes). The French woman lay on her stomach, knees bent with her calves in the air. Her legs were wide apart and both men could clearly view Yvonne's smoothly shaven pussy on display. It was swollen and a deep shade of pink, glistening from wetness. At times they even caught glimpses of her most intimate of opening, her crinkled little anus.

Yvonne's arms were stretched up over the swell of Amira's mature belly, gripping and mauling those large funbags. The housekeeper's bazooms were spread out across her chest and Yvonne kept pushing them together, kneading and working them like two huge lumps of dough. From time-to-time she rolled those dark, erect nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

Amira's head was thrown back and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, savoring the lapping and sucking going on between her legs. She had a tight grip on the blonde head servicing her, and she moved and pushed it about, steering Yvonne's sweet, talented mouth.

The two naked females lay there squirming in the Mediterranean sun, one orally pleasuring the other. Their combined moans and sighs, accompanied by wet slurping noises, formed a duet of lust and desire.

The older woman began gyrating her wide hips, oscillating them slowly at first, but gradually gaining speed. She muttered something in Arabic to the young French woman. Although Yvonne could not understand the words, she could understand the tone. Added to the steadily flowing pussy juices and the writhing of Amira's body, Yvonne understood exactly what the older woman was saying.

The housekeeper's hips started to buck, thrusting up against Yvonne's face. Amira pulled Yvonne's head closed to her, forcing the young woman into that hairy, soppy-wet forest of black matted pubic hair.

Another series of Arabian words poured from Amira's wide, thick lips and she arched her back, lifting her torso off the cushion as her whole body began to shake. The older woman's increased arousal excited Yvonne, and she intensified her efforts to push Amira over the edge into the swirling vortex of an orgasm.

The animalistic scream of Amira's climaxing caused Signor Ferrari to jump. In all their years together, he had never heard her make any noise like that.

With moans and whimpers, almost sobs, Amira quivered and trembled. She took one hand away from Yvonne's head and extended it behind her for support. Sliding her other hand to the back of the young French woman's head, she held it in place as she came. And came. And came.

Finally her convulsions passed and she sat there with bowed head and lowered shoulders, shuddering as she gasped for air. Lifting her head and tilting her face skyward, she was about to say something to Yvonne when she happened to observe through the glass panes of the French doors....

"SIGNOR FERRARI!" she yelled, trying to crawl out from underneath the naked Yvonne