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Her mouth felt numb, every muscle in her body relaxed so extremely that she felt as though her bed and her body were one. When she exhaled, all she tasted was the alcohol that warmed her from the inside out. The feeling was surreal–she felt high but so glued to earth at the same time. Like maybe her gravity was slightly off, like maybe she was floating just a millimeter, but the weight of her limbs was too great to lift her any higher than that.
“Fun little paaa-rty, right?” Lisa slurred slightly. She closed the door behind them and flopped onto the bed next to Jean, which centered her gravity once again, that floating feeling gone with the bounce of the bed springs.
“I guess,” Jean exhaled, reveling in the warmth of the breath of alcohol evaporating off her tongue. “You ssshould sleep here. T-tongite. Tonight.” Her arm shot out from beside her to land bluntly on Lisa’s stomach.
This was rewarded by a chuckle from Lisa. “Likeeee a sleepover? Likeeee when we were younger?”
Jean nodded, both eyebrows raised. By now her eyes were heavy as her limbs.
“Mmm. Little spoon or big spoon?” Jean could hear the smile in her voice at that.
“Litt-* hic * spoon.”
Lisa laughed, “Some things never change?”
“Mmm.”
The digital clock on Jean’s bed-side table read 02:51 AM, bright red when Lisa flipped the light off. Her dorm room smelled like vanilla from the wall plug and rain from the open window. It had stopped hours ago, but the scent still lingered. A slight breeze gently stirred the sheer light-blue curtains, even paler in the cloudy moonlight. And Jean’s bed, perfectly made every morning, was ruffled where they lay at the foot.
“Let’s take off your shoes.” Lisa rose, placing Jean’s hand gently where it had been at her side. She unlaced and kicked both their shoes under the bed, shed off her own jacket, skirt, and leggings, and unhooked her bra, stumbling. “Wha-ha-do you want to sleep in, dear?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Jean’s hum was muffled by the comforter, drool collecting on the side of her mouth and pooling on the fabric. She didn’t resist as Lisa tugged her jacket off as well.
“Shorts?”
Jean returned with a half-assed, drunken point in the direction of her dresser behind them, where Lisa rummaged around until she found a pair of pajama shorts. “You * hic * gonna help me put your ssshorts on or–or not?”
Jean groaned loudly as she pushed herself up from her position on the bed and turned over to sit on the edge of it, making quick work of her own leggings. She hastily took off her own t-shirt bra as well, throwing it halfway across the room with a sour expression. “You know, if I knnew getting you ssshitfaced was all it took to get take-taking your pants off for me…” Lisa smirked, struggling to keep her balance as she bent down on her knees to help Jean with her shorts.
“Ssssshut up, man,” Jean huffed, content enough with her pajama shorts and dressy sleeveless blouse to crawl towards the head of the bed and throw back the covers. Lisa laughed drunkenly for twenty seconds straight, tears at the corner of her eyes by the time she herself had snuggled up next to her in her crop top and boy-short panties.
“Feel sick yet?” she breathed into her neck.
“NO.”
///
After the last wave of nausea and final heave over the toilet seat, Jean sat down on the cold tile, exhausted. She let her head hit the wall behind her and rubbed her eyes. “Oh my gosh, this feeling is terrible.” Her body—sore from heaving—slumped sideways, but she could not muster the energy to right it.
Lisa tsked and wiped her mouth with a damp cloth, “I’m sorry, darling. Let me run you a shower.” Jean just shook her head, pushing her away as she felt the need to throw up again. “Wai–wait!” Lisa warned, hastily grasping Jean’s hair to hold back as she leaned over the toilet again. There was more to come up until there wasn’t, and she dry-heaved a few times before finally settling down onto the tile again.
“Okay, I think I’m done,” Jean announced. “Thank you.” She took the cloth to wipe her face, then the seat, where some sick didn’t make it into the bowl. She would be embarrassed out of her mind if she didn’t already feel shitty enough.
“Better now?” Lisa asked, combing through Jean’s hair with her fingers and tucking a strand behind her ear. The affection warmed her and made her ears red where she had touched them. Her stomach fluttered, but this she could not blame on the consumption of excessive amounts of liquor.
Jean looked away, nodding. “Maybe a shower would be nice…”
“Whatever you need,” Lisa smiled. She rose, pulled back the shower curtain, and ran warm water, testing the temperature with her fingers before asking where Jean kept the clean towels. “I need a shower too, shall we take one together? Save a little water?” Lisa suggested, shrugging her shoulders casually. The side of her mouth creased upwards into a smile, but Jean knew it was just as much an offer as it was innocent flirtation.
“Lisa…”
She laughed, “I’m kidding! Here’s that towel.” She placed it on the now-closed toilet seat and outstretched a hand, which Jean took. Lisa’s hand was damp from the water, but warm. She was still in her crop top and purple boy-shorts, completely comfortable in this and any situation, as Lisa always was. It was enviable how constantly confident she was. Although, Jean had never given her a reason to not be around her. At least, not to her knowledge.
The showers, short and separate, did assist with the sobering process. Whatever drunken fog was left over after Jean’s body expelled of her entire stomach contents was greatly—if not completely—diminished after she was done. She sat on her bed as she waited for Lisa, freshly clothed, absentmindedly running a brush through the same section of hair, absentmindedly watching the sky turn from light blue to orange through the window. Memories of the previous night had come back to her—the crowd, the drinks, the games, Diluc. Maybe they had been broken up half a year, but it still felt strange to see him and yet not say a word to him all night. Was that normal? Would seeing him ever feel normal again, considering how much time had passed? And why did she feel the need to bury this feeling with jello shots and red bull vodkas?
And then there was Lisa. Another feeling she felt the need to bury. But it was different. More confusing, more exciting—in a scary way. Like the possibility of taking a shower with her. Why close her eyes while the water cascaded down her face and imagine Lisa opening the door, pulling back the curtain, and stepping in with her? Why imagine water dripping down her tanned legs, her back, her hair? Why imagine her naked, pushing against her, pressing her lips to–
Yellow light flooded the room as Lisa opened the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel. She sighed contentedly. “I don’t know about you, but that felt so refreshing after last night.”
Jean flashed a smile and turned back toward the window before her eyes lingered too long.
“Hey, I hate to ask, but… could I borrow—”
“Of course. Clean clothes in the dresser, help yourself.” She turned her attention to another section of hair and continued brushing. Jean looked back in Lisa’s direction after noticing she hadn’t moved.
“Is… everything okay, Jean?” she asked softly. She walked to the bed and sat down, the towel wrapped around her riding up her thighs even higher, and up close, her skin looked even smoother. Soft and inviting and difficult not to just reach out and touch.
“Yeah! Everything’s good, just… I have a headache.”
“Aw, love, let me get you something for it. Hold on.”
Her reaction was greatly delayed: for a beat, all she had heard was Lisa call her “love.” “N-no, wait, Lisa—” she attempted, but by then the brunette was already rummaging through the medicine cabinet and deaf to reluctances toward painkillers.
She returned with a couple headache relief pills and a half-full glass of water from the bedside table. “This should make you feel better.”
“Thanks,” Jean smiled, taking care not to touch her hand too long as she transferred the pills to her. But her hand was shaking, and one dropped on the covers in the exchange. She was quick to pick it up and toss it in her mouth before taking a swig of water, but not before Lisa had noticed.
“ Promise everything is okay?” Lisa stared at her, squinting. “It’s just the beginnings of a hangover?”
Jean nodded firmly, hoping she would put some clothes on soon. “I do. It–It is.”
“Okay, I just–”she sighed. “You would tell me right? If I did anything that made you… uncomfortable earlier?” She got up towards the dresser now, her damp hair already forming perfect waves at her back.
Jean only stared while she picked out her articles to wear. By the time she had collected them and turned back around, Jean was still staring.
“I don’t… what do you mean?”
Lisa sighed, “I know that when I’m drunk I can be, you know, me times a hundred . Not that that’s any excuse. At all. And I mean, gosh, I got pretty fucked up too last night, things are still coming back to me as I’m sure they are you. So… if I did or said anything that m-made you uncomfortable in any way, I hope you would tell me about it? So that I might have the chance to apologize. Profusely. And… explain myself.”
“Oh.” She shook her head, “No, Lisa. Not at all. I-I just really appreciate you being there for me.”
Lisa smiled, approaching to run her hand up and down Jean’s arm. “I’ll always be there for you, cutie. So… we’re okay?”
Jean felt her cheeks grow hotter the longer Lisa’s hand lingered. She nodded enthusiastically, training her gaze to Lisa’s eyes. “Are you going to stay?”
Lisa shrugged, making toward the bathroom now to change. “Do you want me to?”
“I-I mean… if I’m not… keeping you.”
Lisa laughed. “So is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes.” With that, she closed the door. And yet returning clothed a moment later did nothing to quell Jean’s urges. Sticking with the theme of casual attire, she opted for a tank top and shorts similar to the ones Jean had on now, although unlike Jean she had chosen to skip on a bra. It was rather noticeable, as well, and sensuously distracting. Her nipples were hard from the cool air hitting her freshly-showered skin, and they showed shamelessly through the thin fabric of her top.
Jean looked away and stared at her toes at the foot of the bed instead, pretending she hadn’t even looked her way as Lisa walked over and sat next to her. “So…” she shouldered her playfully, “What would you like to do? Go back to sleep? Talk?” A smile Jean knew all too well spread ear-to-ear as she suggested, “Fool around?”
She shouldered her back in response and scoffed, chuckling and shaking her head. Her attention returned back to her toes, wiggling them. “You seemed pretty relaxed last night. At-home, I mean. Comfortable. At.. the party?”
“Well, you know me,” Lisa started, positioning herself exactly as Jean and wiggling her own toes next to hers. They both laughed. “I’m rather adaptable.”
“It’s one of your best qualities, I think.”
“Yeah, right up there next to my tits and my charm. They’re all I have, really.”
Jean chuckled. “You are quite charming, but… your boobs? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Lisa.”
“What do you mean ?” Lisa gasps, feigning offense. She clasps her breasts, one in each hand, looking down at both in turn. “I think they’re pretty fucking fantastic, don’t you? You laugh, but I’m serious.”
“See—you’re funny. And you’re caring. And kind, and—” Jean shakes her head.
“Well, don’t stop now, you were on a roll,” Lisa chuckles. She lay down on her back, hands resting on her stomach.
Jean shakes her head again before laying down beside her. “What’s the point?”
“Well—what do you mean?” Lisa turns on her side to face her, elbow propping up her head. “It matters to me that I know how my best friend feels —”she boops Jean’s nose with her free hand, “—about me.”
“You think—” Jean starts. She reaches up to scratch her nose. The ceiling all of the sudden looked extremely fascinating.
“Do I think what?” Lisa pressed.
Jean sighs, picking at a hangnail on her right ring finger. “Do you think we’ll…
always be friends? No matter what?”
“ Jean .”
“Yes?”
“Darling, look at me.” Lisa’s fingers rose to gently nudge Jean’s chin towards her.
Jean took in a shuddery breath at Lisa’s endearment and her touch, now forced to face her and her closeness. She wondered briefly how fast her heart must be beating, whether Lisa felt it. Whether she was blushing and Lisa saw it. “You promised everything was okay.”
“It is okay. Just because I asked—that doesn’t mean things aren’t okay. I just felt like asking.”
Lisa’s hand ventured up further to cup Jean’s cheek, stroking it slowly and softly. Dawn had broken, the rise of the sun and its color touching both their faces and tinting both their eyes, hair, and skin in the soft orange-yellow of daybreak. Jean let her eyes fall closed, just enjoying Lisa’s gentle touch and the warmth of the rising sun. She decided that if she kissed her now, she wouldn’t stop it. She decided that she hoped for it. And she decided that those feelings would be fully addressed and thought-out later, not now. Now she would just feel them.
“No matter what.” Jean’s blue eyes fluttered open to meet Lisa’s green staring back at her. “You’ll always have me, dear.” She rose her hand from Jean’s face to instead brush away a few strands of stray blonde hair, and laid it once again to rest on Jean’s cheek, where her eyes fell, then graced her lips. Jean wet them with her tongue, whose gaze had traveled down to Lisa’s in return. “ Nothing could change that.”
And she believed her. Not wanting to stir too much that Lisa take it the wrong way and retract her hand, which still stroked her cheek, Jean stayed where she was on her back and moved only her arm. She laid it to rest on Lisa’s thigh, running it slowly up and down a small length. Lisa breathed in and exhaled so Jean felt it on her face, and inched her body just slightly closer.
“Do you remember, um, in the eighth grade, Melissa Sloan’s slumber party?”
Lisa’s chest moved fitfully in laughter, otherwise still. “Oh my god, I haven’t thought of that in years,” she smiled. “Vera dared some of us to kiss. Me and Fran Ellis, Gwendoline and Lily…”
“It’s stupid, I know, it was so long ago. But I think about it a lot,” Jean confessed.
“And the whole rest of the year, you gave Fran the silent treatment, didn’t you?” Lisa laughed, “Is that why ? You never said anything, me and the other girls wondered.”
“I was jealous!” Jean laughed beside her. Apparently reminiscing about silly shit you did when you were a kid makes hard conversations easier.
Lisa briefly removed her hand to lightly shove Jean’s shoulder. “And why were you so jealous of Fran Ellis, hm? It was just a silly middle school girl kiss.”
Jean turned her attention to her hand then, still placed on Lisa’s thigh, but halted in its movements. She watched as she drummed her fingers against Lisa’s bare skin until she grabbed it with her own hand to stop it. She watched as Lisa rubbed the back of it tenderly, circling it with her thumb, before entwining their fingers together. She looked back up at her then, her green eyes still catching the orange from the sun, not quite completely risen. “I guess… at the time… I couldn’t see it that way yet.”
Lisa just nods. She places Jean’s hand back on her thigh and uses her free one to run her hands through her brown hair, about halfway dry now.
“By now, of course, you’ve had experiences that… weren’t… silly middle school ‘girl kisses’ and that's— I mean, that’s gr—”
“Why are you bringing this up to me now?” Lisa interrupts. “I just mean—I don’t really understand what it is… that you’re saying? Exactly?”
“I— I just—” Jean removes her hand and sits up, bringing her knees to her chest. Lisa follows.
“Are you telling me that… why you were jealous of Fran?”
Jean nods. She picks at the small calluses on her palms, trying to think of the right words to say. Lisa takes her hands and holds them, brushing over the calluses softly with her thumbs. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Lisa speaks softly.
She believed her. No matter what, friends first and always. She felt hot and out of breath, with a full bladder and dry mouth and a brain of fog, with little thought in her mind but to lean in and close her eyes. Instead, they were open, staring at her as she spoke. “I was jealous of Fran… because I wanted to be the one.” Jean sighed now that the words had come out, which was the hard part. And she chuckled at how silly it sounded out loud, when it was so much more scary in her head. “I wanted you to kiss me that night at Melissa’s slumber party when we were 13.”
“But… you said to you… it wasn’t just a silly middle school ‘girl kiss.’”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Lisa only nodded again, with a slight smile. Her hands still held Jean’s and she looked down to them, watched as she rubbed them, her smile growing wider. “So… are you coming out to me, right now?”
Jean’s eyes widened. This, she hadn’t preemptively thought out. Not that any of this conversation had been “thought-out,” but that… Jean had never put any considerable thought into whether she wasn’t straight, ever. At any time. Of course, though, and it was obvious to her now, that that’s what these feelings must mean. She felt stupid to be so oblivious to her desires, which just intensified the fear and discomfort she was experiencing already. “I—I don't… I dunno,” she shrugged, ears burning. She looked to Lisa’s hands, holding hers, and prayed the Earth would open up to swallow her whole.
“Hey, that’s—” Lisa let go of one hand and used it to nudge Jean’s chin upwards until she looked at her. “That’s perfectly okay,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You know that, right? You don’t have to know. You’re allowed to be curious, you’re allowed to be fluid. I shouldn’t have asked so bluntly, I—”
“No. You’ve done nothing wrong. I just feel—I guess it’s just embarrassing.”
Lisa chuckled, “ Embarrassing ? It’s just me, darling. I would never judge you.”
Jean nods, turning away again. “I know.”
Lisa sniffs, reaches for the leftover water on the bedside table, takes a sip, and returns it. “You know,” she swallows, “for what it’s worth—I wanted you to be the one, too.”
Jean stiffens. “You did?”
Lisa lets out a laugh, “Of course I did! Fran Ellis was my first kiss, Jean. Really? I’d so much rather have kissed you.”
“No—I thought Erik Levie was your first kiss.”
She shook her head– “That’s just what he told everyone. I never kissed him.”
“Wha—” Jean lets out a scoffing chuckle, letting her body relax and sway to the side to examine Lisa, scrutinizing, “—how did I not know this?”
Lisa shoves her away playfully, “I just— I didn’t think anyone would believe me! It was all over school before I even knew about it.”
“Lisa, I would have believed you.”
She just shrugs, “Well, now you know.” They laugh for a beat, then return to their previous positions lying down on their backs.
“So have you ever had a crush on a girl before?”
Jean returns to that hangnail on her ring finger before answering, “I’ve never really thought of it like that.” Lisa props up on her elbow again, waiting for elaboration. Jean repositions to mirror her, now just as close as they were before. Faces inches apart. “I think so, just never realizing that… a crush is what it was. You know?”
Lisa nods. “But you’re—you’re realizing this now?”
Jean nods hesitantly in return. Lisa reaches for Jean’s cheek again. “I’m proud of you.” Jean breathes in and out, deeply, her body shuddering on exhale. “ Tons of people go their whole lives without ever even inching their closet open. And…” she sighs, raising her eyebrows to look up at Jean. She moves her hand again to rub Jean’s arm affectionately. “No matter who you love, Jean, I’ll always love you.”
It’s true that actions speak louder than words. Words, however–especially spoken in a certain order and a certain face–have the potential to possess an immeasurable power in a way that actions simply cannot. Just as actions speak in a language that words could never. And when actions and words speak together as one–
“I’ll always love you,” Jean echoed. Lisa’s smile brightened—and just as quickly dimmed with intensity—as Jean gripped her thigh again, higher on her leg than it had been previously. She felt Lisa’s gaze trained hot on her face, even as her own eyes shifted to stare at her hand, whose thumb was running softly back and forth as far as it could reach either way on her thigh. Lisa returned with a slow movement—a bending of that leg at its knee—and placed it between them, close enough to Jean’s own legs that her knee was grazing her hip. In this position, Jean’s hand could reach farther in and up, and it did, inching slowly to rest where the hem of her shorts began right below her ass. All movements slow and meticulous, she now ran her hand back and forth from the back of Lisa’s thigh to inside, and back again, never looking up at her. She still felt Lisa staring at her as she did it, knowing eventually she would have to look up, her hand dangerously close between her legs, and possessing more than enough angle required to venture up and palm her ass. Lisa’s hand, meanwhile, played with Jean’s hair. She ran her fingers through the strands in her reach, then nudged the blonde’s face up to look at her—as Jean knew she would. She let her thumb rub her chin tenderly before asking, her voice soft, “What are you doing?” When she spoke, so close, her breath tickled Jean’s face. She breathed it in, hot and sweet.
“I don’t know,” she spoke plainly and without much thought. It was hard to think, to be fair—Lisa’s skin was soft, cool, and smooth as it looked, and her lips a head-dip away. Tanned cleavage showed even more easily in this position as well, her breasts hard not to stare at underneath the thin, tight cloth of her tank top. Lisa made Jean feel hot, flustered, and forgetful of much everything besides carnal desire.
“I’m only asking,” Lisa starts—letting out a shuddery exhale of her own— “because, well, if… if you don’t want this to go any further—” at this, Jean’s hand travels farther between Lisa’s legs, gripping her upper thigh and pulling it ever closer to her, so now her knee was fully poking Jean in the stomach. Lisa’s breath had stopped. “Then we should probably stop now…” she exhaled, but it could have been a breathy moan.
Jean only shook her head and inched it closer until their noses nearly touched, staring deeply into the vibrant green of Lisa’s eyes, letting the world fall away around them, miles down. They and the wetness between both their thighs were all that remained. “I don’t want to stop.”
Lisa reached for her cheek again, but this time only to pull her face closer as she lay back, brown hair now splayed across the pillow. Jean wet her lips with her tongue and obliged, following with one fluid motion. Each of her arms had come to rest on either side of Lisa, positioning herself above her. She wouldn’t give herself time to hesitate now—just watched Lisa closely as she slowly dipped her head—waiting to be stopped. She wasn’t stopped.
Their lips met first in a faint peck—a test of the waters. Jean rose her head to look at Lisa, checking in, who snaked her arms around Jean’s waist in reply. It was then that Jean realized she had been holding her breath, let it out, and inhaled again. Breathe. Remember to breathe. She leaned in for more, letting her nose nuzzle Lisa’s, their skin just barely skimming, their breath hot and needy.
This time, when their lips came together, it was savory. Slow. This wasn’t unlike kissing a boy, Jean realized, not in the ways she had feared. It was unlike kissing a boy in ways she had hoped. Lisa’s lips were full, soft, and followed her lead. They made her feel almost lightheaded—like she was in a daze—surrounded in a euphoric, exhilarating cloud which only wanted nothing but more. Making sure to breathe, her every move slow so as not to startle and soft enough to leave room for Lisa to pull away if she wished, Jean placed a gentle hand behind Lisa’s head, her thumb grazing her ear. One of Lisa’s hands had fallen underneath Jean’s loose top, the gentle pressure of her palm against the small of her back encouraging her to continue.
Each kiss they shared was more sultry than the last, more bold, more easy. Each warranted a little more, a little more, and a little more, until Jean straddled Lisa, whose hands had found rest at her thighs, stroking them suggestively as Jean had stroked hers. She had never bitten anyone before, but when the notion struck her she had no will to ignore it, and broke their kiss to pull Lisa’s bottom lip gently between her teeth. She was rewarded with a soft hum and the sensation of Lisa’s hand traveling farther up the bare skin of her back. Her other hand came up to cup Jean’s face, bringing her back in for another kiss. But instead of a kiss, Lisa held her gently as she licked the outline of her lips, just tracing the shape. Jean was stiff as a corpse as she did it—no one had done this to her before, nor had she thought to do it to anyone else—and when she was done, she licked her once again, this time just between her lips. Jean could think of nothing to do but the same, but when she darted her tongue out to taste Lisa’s own lips, her mouth parted instead and she tasted her tongue. An involuntary groan made its way up her throat at the contact and she was helpless to stop it. Now at the break of each kiss, the next was sure to be more greedy, more passionate, and less gentle than the last.
Lisa sat up, back against the headboard, shifting Jean’s hips back and forth to grind on top of her. Jean’s hands were on either side of Lisa’s neck, pressing with only the gentlest of pressures. Their tongues danced, explored, reached around their open mouths, desperate moans escaping with each exhale, breaths quickening. A hand reached behind Jean to splay across the small of her back again, before slowly, slowly creeping downwards. Just as her hand had fully crossed over onto the fabric of her shorts and settled on her ass, Lisa broke away from their kiss to turn her attention to Jean’s neck. “Oh, fuck ,” Jean sighed lustfully, as Lisa sucked and licked away at the exposed skin, all while massaging her ass by the palmful. She felt Lisa smile against her throat briefly before returning to her task. It’s true she hardly ever cursed. But if this was a sin, and she was going through with it—why not make the most?
Of its own accord, a hand ventured down to rest at Lisa’s chest, just above her breasts. Lisa—still busy working away at leaving the love bites that she would deal with concealing later—took the hand she had placed on Jean’s hip to grab the one at her chest, and pulled it down to her left breast. Jean let out a sigh, her grinding picking up some pace, and palmed Lisa’s tits through her shirt. When her thumb brushed over a nipple, Lisa would gasp. Jean was delighted to discover this.
Somehow, before she knew it, she had been placed on her back and Lisa on top. Jean held her hair out of the way as she bent down to kiss her, mouth open and hungry. All she could taste was Lisa. All she could feel was Lisa. All she could smell was the ‘summer breeze’ perfume she must have sprayed on in her bathroom and the scent of her shampoo. All she could hear was Lisa’s moans against her mouth. Unbidden, her hands had found their way underneath her tank top and were traveling up the smooth skin of Lisa’s stomach. In a second, she had peeled it off. The soft, perfect mounds that were her breasts stared back at Jean, her nipples hard from stimulation and arousal. She reached up to gently mold one in each hand, so unlike her own breasts, which weren’t nearly as full and more pointy.
“Sorry, did I—was that too fast?”
“No, no,” Jean assured, and pulled her back down for a kiss, tender and brief. She trails pecks across her cheek until reaching her ear. “You’re just perfect,” she whispers.
Lisa chuckles. Jean doesn’t, just reaches between them to lift her own top, which the other woman helps maneuver over her head. Underneath, she wore a white bra. Their eyes meet as Lisa’s fingers glide over the pale, smooth skin of her stomach to rest at the hem, fingering it before arching down again to slip her tongue back through Jean’s lips, who was sure by now her heart had skipped at least ten beats.
She groaned as Lisa stuck her tongue down her throat with fervor, returning to her previous task and ghosting over her nipples with each thumb, even pinching them every so often. Lisa encouraged her by grinding firmly against her hips. It only worsened the unsated ache between her legs, and with every thrust she was sure Lisa felt that same ache. Jean turns her attention now back to the brunette’s ass. Her fingers had reached all the way to the inside of her thighs again and rubbed her skin gently—god, it was soft, so soft—not quite skimming over that thin mound of fabric, but yet so very close. Lisa let out a whimper, stretching on top of her further to provide an easier angle—one that begged to be touched. She nipped at Jean’s earlobe and planted kisses at the tender spot below the angle of her jaw. Jean’s hand did travel then—and in an instant she was rubbing over the mound of Lisa’s shorts that covered her pussy. Lisa hissed in her ear and continued her movements, both rubbing back and forth, developing a rhythm. Jean’s middle finger sailed farther downwards to circle delicately where she guessed her clit must be. Lisa’s patience evaporated, hastily stripping Jean of her bra so they were both utterly, delectably bare-skinned from the waist up. Lisa crawled a few inches back to pop Jean’s right breast in her mouth, whose hands had found their way to brown hair and tangled in the curls. Her back arched as Lisa’s tongue swirled over each nipple before sucking at the delicate flesh. Back to the other nipple and back again. Jean’s tongue formed the shape of another curse. And another. Breathing heavy, she pulled Lisa’s hair toward her gently until their mouths crashed. Her hand slipped underneath Lisa’s shorts, where her fingers met the bare skin of her ass cheek. The contact shocked her initially—unaware that the other woman wore no underwear—but did not deter her in the least. She grabbed blindly for whatever skin she could reach, supporting each of Lisa’s thrusts with gentle pressure aimed to encourage.
The brunette drew back suddenly, panting. Jean froze as a hand began gliding down her body at a grueling pace—beginning at her neck, down her tits, her stomach, and settling on her clothed hips. “Is this okay?” Lisa breathed, looking down at her with searching eyes.
Jean only nodded and shifted slightly so that her hips rose into the air. Lisa removed the article with care, and now the only items that remained were her panties and Lisa’s small shorts. Knowing this, the hot ache between her legs only intensified with need. Need to be stroked. The need to be fingered. She needed to cum.
She took Lisa’s hand, gently guiding her to her own mound, and spread her legs slowly, just barely. Lisa’s thumb brushed over her clit and she let out a soft whimper. Lisa bent down to kiss her again, all while stroking small, delicate circles over the sensitive bud of nerves. Jean was panting, the feeling intoxicating all on its own, and she let her head fall back to expose her neck, just breathing and spreading her legs farther and farther open. Lisa took this opportunity to nip at her throat, then flit her tongue suggestively back and forth in the crevice where Jean’s neck and shoulder met. She now straddled one of Jean’s thighs, grinding against it while her fingers still worked at her clit, finding their rhythm and sticking to it. Even through the panties, Jean felt the gradual rise of climax, inching closer and closer to peak every second. She couldn’t help but buck against Lisa’s hand. These movements had no true pattern—just quick and wanton and greedy.
Lisa removed her hand from its place between Jean’s legs and used it instead to support the back of the blonde’s head, nudging her into a wet open-mouthed kiss. They flipped over—Jean now on top and Lisa out of breath below her. Who had taken off the shorts? Was a question that passed in, through, and just as quickly out of Jean’s mind as she took in the sight of Lisa’s naked body. She couldn’t care less whether it was her or Lisa or both or neither. She couldn’t care less that her own underwear was slipping down her thighs now as well, nor could she care any less which one of them made it so. She couldn’t care less what year it was or whether the door was locked. Lisa’s legs parted and Jean’s fingers dipped between them, spreading the warm wetness that leaked from her entrance all over her lips and clit. Lisa gasped against her mouth, their foreheads grazing while Jean’s middle finger glides soft circles over the swollen bud. The brunette outstretches a hand to slip between Jean’s legs as well, though only circling her entrance with the tip of her index finger.
“ God , you’re so wet, darling,” she whispers breathily in her ear. “How many times have you fantasized about this? About– ah –fuck, right there– yes , a little slower–”
“So, so many,” Jean confesses, slightly slowing the pace of the stroke of her fingers until Lisa’s hips are thrusting forwards and backwards to meet the tempo. Her breath was getting quicker, body shaking ever so slightly as she grinded against Jean’s fingers, and Jean realized that this had to be the hottest thing she had ever seen in her life.
“Fuck, I could cum like this.”
“Then cum,” Jean said. She was careful to keep the pace and position of strokes as she bent to slip her tongue into Lisa’s mouth, gliding over it and under, around and around. The thin layer of sweat that now covered them both made their breasts sticky where they brushed against each other, their mouths watering and saliva mingling. A string of it connected their lips when Jean pulled back, righting her focus again to Lisa’s clit, throbbing under her fingers. The brunette’s arms had snaked around Jean’s waist again, desperately grasping her skin-to-skin.
“ Please ,” Lisa begged. Jean felt a far-away sensation of nails being dug deeper and deeper into her back as she continued stroking and stroking. Lisa was close, and Jean was determined, concentrating on sustaining the rhythm and pressure that she writhed below to.
She looked beautiful as she came, her back arched, tits up in the air, head thrown back and neck exposed, tantalizing. Her brown hair cascaded below her like a waterfall, her arms still wrapped around Jean’s waist (the only thing tethering her to the Earth). As she came down, her body shuddered, shimmering with sweat, chest heaving with each deep breath. And she wasn’t the only one—Jean was hooked. Infatuated. Utterly bewitched. Once Lisa had taken her pleasure, she only wanted to give it again and again. She leaned down to kiss her, soft and sweet and with all the endearment of a thousand kisses, hands brushing away the brown strands which stuck to her forehead with sweat. And Lisa kissed her back with such emotion that it moved them—tipped them over and tangled their bare limbs together while they breathed in sex and love alike. “You’re so beautiful,” Jean could not help but whisper against Lisa’s lips when they parted.
Lisa smiled against her, almost bashful despite everything. When she caught her breath, she rose, only to lie her cheek against Jean’s stomach. Her legs were parted underneath her and she felt the wetness between Jean’s thighs on her breasts. “I want to taste you,” she spoke suddenly, her fingers running over the blonde’s nipples, “Will you let me?”
Jean was apprehensive at first, not quite saying yes or no. She knew what she meant, of course, not that it had ever been done to her before, but then again, neither had any of it. Women often spoke of how good it feels to feel a tongue down there, though in her mind the prospect had always frightened her a little. It just seemed so very vulnerable. Exhibitionist. And she had never been keen on the idea of allowing someone so close. Although, if it were to be someone , it would be Lisa. And her pussy throbbed at the proposal, there was no denying that. She nodded cautiously.
“You can say no…” Lisa started.
“Yes,” Jean finished for her. “I want you.”
Lisa smiled, planting a kiss on her stomach. And another below. And another below that one. She kissed the fine-haired, blonde bush that rested atop Jean’s mound, then the inside of her thighs. She lapped inward, her tongue brushing against each lip in turn, teasing. Jean sighed and grabbed at her own tits, massaging them. She could feel a gush of wetness seeping from between her legs as Lisa wound her up, and up, and up. She kissed, licked, and sucked at the outskirts of the place she needed most, frollicking around and around the garden, but not yet within. Jean grew tired of this soon and opted to use her hips, rolling them to beckon her tongue venture deeper. Her legs wrapped around Lisa’s shoulders, and Jean felt her smile at this against her thigh, but continued to tease and string along. Jean whined and placed a hand in Lisa’s hair. It dawned on her then: she wants to hear me beg. “ Please .”
Lisa let out a sound, almost like a growl, low and deep in her throat. She let out a breath and Jean felt it warm her clit ever further. She licked her then—one long, slow, continuous stroke of the tongue that began at her entrance (dipping her tongue inside and gathering the cum that pooled there) and ended at her warm, pulsing bud that felt almost ready to burst. Jean grasped around her desperately, white-knuckling the covers with one hand while the other stifled her cry. It didn’t take much afterwards. Lisa held her legs apart while she feasted, alternating between lapping softly at and sucking—while Jean was seeing stars, rolling her hips with enthusiasm and attempting to keep the moans that escaped her at a whisper’s volume. Although, when Lisa penetrated her, hooking her index and middle digits inside of her, caressing her walls, there was no helping the breathy sighs, moans, and groans that made their way past her lips—nor did she care anymore who might hear them. When she came, she came hard and with tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Lisa kissed her clit once more with care, then trailed kisses upwards until she reached her lips.
They both collapsed then, naked and sweaty and satisfied, Jean on her back with an arm around Lisa, who snuggled up at her side with her head on her chest. Their free fingers tangled together and legs wrapped around legs. They fell asleep to the sound of each other’s heavy breathing, but not before Jean placed a final kiss to Lisa’s hair.
The sun was awake now, full and complete with its rising. Bright light filled the room, filtered by those sheer blue curtains and bouncing off every surface that it touched. It still touched them when they woke some hours later, as it would the next day, the day after that, and every day that followed.