by JD Glass
“It’s a little rest, better than none,” she commented flatly.
The silence dragged out.
“Hey, Sam, where’s your towel?” Kitt asked into the silence.
She shrugged in response. “Probably in the locker room,” she said blandly. “Don’t worry about me.” This time, Sam stared at her and I watched as Kitt’s face worked.
She opened her mouth as if she’d wanted to speak but had thought better of it, then took her towel off her shoulders and tossed it at me.
“Share it,” she said curtly, “I’m up for the medley now.” She stalked off to the starting blocks.
Well, that was certainly bizarre, I ABC Page 142thought. Maybe it was me, and I walked in a circle of chaos, bringing those around me into confusion and personality morphs. That sounded about right. Or maybe everyone was PMSing. That was more likely. Whatever.
“And you?” Fran continued, bringing me back to the present. “You were so immune to either of us.”
I was more than taken aback—I was shocked, although maybe I shouldn’t have been. I mean, I’d had the same crush on her that the rest of the student body’d had. Well, maybe a little more, in reality, since we did hang out, and I knew that Samantha and I had had—well, we never got that far.
Something, I don’t know what, shifted within me, broke, re-formed, changed. I owed Fran—for her time, for her feelings, for what she had felt then, and for what I was putting her through now. An amazing new thought ran through my head—maybe I owed myself, too.
I gave her a soft smile as I touched her face, framing her cheeks with my fingers. “I’m sorry,” I told her, and I meant it—I was sorry for everything —“I didn’t know.” That would be the last time either one of us mentioned Samantha or anything about her for some time.
She seized my hand and kissed it. “I don’t…I mean…it doesn’t matter if we make love or not.” She kissed my hand again, then folded my fingers over and held my hand to her heart. “I don’t care what you’ve done and I don’t care where you’ve been,” she declared. “I just love…that, that you’re really here.”
How could I not respond to that? Here she was, so loving, so kind, and, a part of my mind said, so aroused and cheated; how could I deny that? My former roommates? Honestly, they sucked. The women I’d fucked? Didn’t care about me, well, except maybe for Candace. I think she might have tried. The women at the bar? Just wanted to score. Besides, it’s not like I hadn’t seen what happened to anyone I’d observed—lovers came and went. Declarations of romantic love would spread like confetti one night, only to be followed by heartbroken sobs the next. I didn’t want that.
And as far as Samantha went, well, she wasn’t here; she was a stranger, lived across the pond, had never come home. And given that Candace was her girlfriend or ex or whatever it was, that meant that she had more than likely known how to get in touch with me for several months—and hadn’t bothered. She wasn’t interested and didn’t care.
No. I deserved something more than that, didn’t I? Fran had made no demands, had pushed no agenda, was still giving me every opportunity to handle this any way I wanted. I made a decision: what I needed, what I wanted, was her.
If I was going to do this, it would have to be now or forever hold my peace about it because I didn’t know if I could do this tomorrow—and I saw that this, this whatever could grow between us, had the potential to be beautiful. I wanted something beautiful, I wanted someone beautiful, in the exact way that she was—inside as well as out. Maybe that was something I could be too, someday.
I kissed her cheek softly and took both her hands in mine. “Francesca Kitt DiTomassa,” I whispered in her ear, ABC “it matters to me.” I kissed the corner of her eye where another tear threatened to fall.
“I…I want to make love with you,” I said quietly. Her breath caught, and she absolutely stilled. Her eyes searched mine, and I answered honestly. “I want you to love me.”
She smiled at me with such fierce joy, then looked at my lips with such a sensual twist to her own that the first part made me feel like I had stepped into the sun, and the second simply thrilled through me.
I was scared, so scared I could feel myself shake as she laid me down with contained strength and kissed me again. This time fire lanced through me in tightening strings that ran to my wrists as my tongue slipped between her teeth and savored the taste of my cunt on her tongue. Her skin was velvety warm as her legs molded to mine.
My fear ebbed when she ran her fingers down my ribs, and I gasped when she grasped my nipple, teasing one, then the other, to hardened, sensitive peaks.
But it was when her teeth closed on the tendon of my neck as her belly pushed into mine that the fire that had shot through me before came racing back like high tide, taking me with it, settling in my cunt.
I seized Fran and kissed her fiercely, trying to show her with my tongue how she made me feel, and when finally, finally, I felt the solid heat of her pussy on mine, I let her slide between my legs.
“Thank you,” she sighed into my ear before she arched her back away from me, which brought even more pressure to bear on my tightening clit. She began a slow and steady glide against me, and as I scratched my fingertips along the lines of her back, I snaked the other hand between us so I could spread our joined lips.
“God…” she groaned as our clits met, and I agreed. Fran slid against me with a purpose now, and my hips moved to the same rhythm. Every kiss of her cunt took away another part of the world; each time her clit licked mine my skin grew hotter, until I couldn’t take it anymore, and my hands, which had been alternately stroking her shoulders and grasping her breasts, teasing her nipples, tasting them, flew to her beautifully toned ass that flexed against me. I pulled her as hard into me as I could. I so desperately needed to hold her, to be completely with her, to get even closer under her skin that I wrapped my body around her, my knees pressing behind her shoulders, and my hands guiding her ass firmly on my cunt.
Fran instinctively spread her legs a bit and gasped at the increased pussy contact. I felt desperate as those slick, wet lips hugged my clit and hers ground into me.
The first time it happened I wasn’t sure. The slip of her cunt on mine felt so amazing that even though I felt something different, the sensation was so brief and this all felt just so good, I didn’t care. When it happened again seconds later, I definitely noticed, and so did she.
“Oh,” she groaned, a low and throaty sound, and she buried her face into my neck.
I opened eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed. It felt exactly like, well, I couldn’t tell you then, but I can certainly tell you now: the tip of a thumb when it moves just inside you.
Fran’s luscious cunt now thrust more than slid, and I was so amazed by this new sensation that was in me, even the slightest bit, that I literally stilled.
“Hey,” she asked softly as her pussy eased against mine, “are you okay?” She lifted herself up and looked at me.
I gazed back into her tawny eyes and stroked her magnificent shoulders. Even had we not been on swim team together, even had I not known anything else about her, I would’ve been able to tell she had at least been a swimmer by those shoulders. I traced the muscles with my fingertips, then returned to her face and neck, pushing away the unruly locks that fell across her cheeks.
Her face flushed, skin sweat-shiny, and hair loose, she awed me. I had never seen anyone more beautiful than she was at that moment, a lioness above me, and the expression on her face threatened to bring me to tears.
I relaxed my legs, content to twine them around hers, and she relaxed as well, settling her legs under mine, propping herself on her forearms. Her cunt still pressed against mine, for which I was grateful—I didn’t want this to end. Her fingers were warm on my cheeks, and she rubbed her thumb across my chin while she waited for my answer.
“I’m okay.” I smiled and got a sudden attack of the shys. “It’s just…I mean, I…” I took a breath and tried again. “It’s ju
st…I mean, I never—”
Fran cut me off with a kiss that shot straight to my clit and wrapped me in her arms. She was a phenomenal kisser, and as I flicked my tongue against hers, I pushed my hips into hers.
She tore her mouth from mine and scraped her teeth against my neck. “I know, Nina,” she whispered hotly into my ear, then kissed my throat. “I know.”
She ran strong fingers up my leg and slipped her arm under my neck, and just as neatly, she shifted over until she was lying next to me, almost on top of me. I didn’t wait for her to lean in to kiss me—I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. I’d found her full breast and stroked along its curve before catching her nipple, tweaking it. Her kiss set my skin dancing while her fingers nimbly played with my short pussy hairs.
“Mmm…” she murmured, “you know, I’ve kept the habit myself.”
I chuckled despite the rising heat—I knew she meant the swim-team trim. Hey, it’s a habit you don’t break. Why? Someone’s got to buy all those trimmers, right?
I replaced my fingertips with my lips and sucked in the honey-sweet taste of her skin. Her nipple felt gratifyingly hard under my tongue, and I let my free hand glide down her taut stomach muscles to find out if what she had said was true. I had thought so—it had felt that way when her pussy was against mine—but I wasn’t sure. When my fingers found her, I knew.
“I see,” I whispered back. She groaned when I cupped her cunt in the palm of my hand, my fingertips alternately squeezing and massaging her full lips, swollen with such need that they’d parted, her clit so hard I could feel it throb against my palm. I wanted so much to be in her that my fingers twitched and my clit jumped with hers. It jumped even more when she slipped two fingers around it and slid them slowly up and down my pussy.
“You’re so soft,” Fran said. She explored my cunt and stroked back up. “And you’re so…hard…” she added, squeezing my clit between her fingers.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to touch her. My pussy hurt knowing she was ready for me, slick and open and hard. I took her clit between my thumb and forefinger and began to gently jerk her off while I let my middle and ring fingers play right around the hot wet entrance to her cunt. Oh yes. That. Felt. Good.
“God, what are you doing to me?” Fran groaned, her hips surging in time with my strokes and pressing against my clit even harder, which made me groan in response.
“I’m jerking you off,” I told her honestly when I could think for a moment. She tossed her head and exposed her neck. It was a target I had to take, and I dragged my lower lip along its length before I bit down lightly. “You are so hard…and so wet,” I added, teasing my fingers against her opening.
Fran rolled over me slightly, and the hand that had been under my neck cupped my head. My lips met her halfway, and she pumped my clit harder, faster, her hips timed to her thrust, my body meeting hers.
I hadn’t slipped my fingers completely inside her yet, but I was dying to, and though I was surprised when she anticipated me and placed a fingertip by my opening, I was ready.
“God…yes,” I told her when I opened my eyes to see her watching me.
“Are you sure?” she asked, searching my face. “Really sure?”
I switched the angle of my hand and brought my thumb against her clit, the very tips of my fingers almost, but not quite inside of her. She was so wet I wanted to come right then.
“I want to feel you come inside of me,” I told her. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I needed her to feel everything I was feeling—all those wordless emotions that were all about her, everything I’d ever thought or felt and how much, just how so much I cared. And I did. The combination of her tears and tenderness, my memory and my crush made me love her. She made me love her.
“Fran…I need to be inside you…please…” She shifted her leg in response, opening herself up to me in such a trusting gesture it nearly undid me.
Her pussy was such welcome relief to my fingers—hot, tight, and soft. God, she was soft and slick, and I moved slowly within her, the feel of her loving cunt driving me insane with the twin drives of lust and humility. This was Fran, and Fran loved me. I knew it, I could feel it. Her body told me.
“You feel so good,” I choked out, overcome by the amazing sensations she was stroking out of my clit and the way her pussy hugged me as I moved within her, each stroke an embrace.
I thrust my hips against her, bellies meeting, and still, she wouldn’t enter me; she maintained her fingertips at my entrance. I pushed against her, trying to embrace her in return.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she gasped into my ear.
I loved that—that she was thinking of me even as her cunt began to pull on me, urging me farther within.
I thrust deep inside of her and wrapped my leg over her hip. “You won’t,” I told her. “I want you to know how alive I am.”
“Oh, yeah…” she groaned as I ground my thumb against her clit and pressed my fingers up inside her. Her fingertips moved against me, almost inside of me, making me frantic with need, my cunt aching to hold her.
“You’re so open,” she murmured, voice catching as she moved her fingers ever so slowly into that ache, “you are so beautiful, Nina, so damned beautiful.”
She paused for one heart-stopping moment, raising her head and shoulders, and stared at me, eyes shining bright and wordless.
Lowering her lips closer to mine, she whispered, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
I smiled gently up at her. “I know, Fran. I know.” I kissed that perfect mouth again, and as she slipped her tongue between my lips, with careful tenderness, Fran slid her fingers inside of me, filling me.
It hurt—a sweet, aching pierce that went through my cunt to my chest—and I gasped into her lips as her tongue tangled with mine. My back arched to make room for her inside me.
She watched me closely, her eyes full of love and concern. “Did I hurt you?” she asked, stilling her fingers within me.
I breathed around this, this new thing, around the feel of her, the knowledge of her body in mine, the absoluteness of it.
“It hurts,” I conceded, my voice sounding soft and small to my ears, “but…don’t stop…it feels good, too.”
She slid deeper within me, and I could feel every single little bit of her moving in there. I stared with wonder as the pain receded and the pleasure that had been at the back of it came roaring to the front. I had stopped moving within her, and I kissed her hungrily as I resumed. God, she felt good—inside her pussy, inside of me.
I moved on nothing but pure instinct as I dug the fingers of my free hand into her back and hers pulled at my shoulder, rolling me even closer to her. Sweat-slick, her belly rode against mine, and she buried her head into my neck. There was nothing but the sound of our breath, hard and harsh, and the feel of skin to skin until I heard it—soft and wet, like the most tender of kisses.
Fran’s cunt tightened around me, and I could feel my own bear down on the incredible feeling of her inside me.
“Kiss me?” she asked hoarsely, and I glanced at the amazing flush of her skin and the golden flash of her eyes before I did. Her body jumped as we thrust in and against each other, the agonizing cunt tension riding, tightening, pulling like a thread of light.
Fran broke and took me with her as I felt the unmistakable lock of her cunt.
“God yes,” I ground out, “please come.”
Her forearm pressed over mine with such force it was almost painful. I didn’t care; it didn’t matter at all because there was nothing but this—this unrelenting, beautiful tension, this barely chained divinity. I prayed to it.
“Come deep inside of me.”
She moaned at those words, a low and desperately sensual sound as she tensed against me. “God…Nina,” she cried, her free hand digging into my back, “I love you,” and she thrust so deeply within me it I felt it in my heart. “Come with me,” she choked out, then kissed me—hard. “Come with me.”
My body explo
ded at her request. “I am,” I gasped out, amazed with the realization that this was it, and it was too much, just too much—the feel of her on me, in me, the pounding wave that ground me down before it. I pressed my head against her chest and the sound that her heart beat back at me, and I cried out as the storm rode past.
“Hey, easy, easy now. It’s okay,” she murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you.” Her pussy softened around me, and as reluctant as I was to leave that warmth, I withdrew gently, knowing that pressure would soon become uncomfortable for her. I laid my hand on her chest next to my face. And ABC cried.
Fran slid gently out of me, leaving me empty. She crushed me to her.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she soothed, kissing my head in between her words, her hands strong on my back. “Oh, Nina…”
She covered me with her body, soothing me with tender kisses and words that I gratefully drank in. Finally, I blinked up at her to find her gazing at me with the same brightness in her eyes and gently cradled her face with my fingertips. Brushing a tear from her cheek, I let my thumb remain there, just enjoying the feel of her.
“Are you all right? Did it…did I hurt you?” she asked with the same concern she’d shown me this entire time.
“I’m fine,” I smiled at her, “never better.” And honestly, for the first time in a long time, it was true.
“I’m glad,” Fran grinned back at me, “that was—”
She stopped abruptly, staring at the hand she’d been about to stroke my forehead with. She sat up and flipped it over to examine it. I sat up with her and leaned over to see for myself.
“What’s the matter?” I asked as I stroked her long curls from her cheek back over her shoulder. The face she gave me was stricken—then she showed me her hand. It seemed fine until I took it into my own and examined it. The back was flecked with dark red—the same red that outlined her nail beds had settled into the knuckle creases of her fingers. Paint. Okay, so?