Standing, Gail kicked her little, black Chinese Mary Jane single strap shoes off and slid her khakis and panties down her legs.  While Bette struggled with her jeans and underwear, she lustfully scrutinized Gail out of the corner of her eye.  Her heart pounded and thumped as she saw more and more long creamy leg revealed to her.  She was breathing hard and furious when she finally got the jeans off with the shoes still stuck in the legs of them.  Gail flung the opened shirt off her body and Bette’s pounding heart caught in her throat when she saw the full picture.  Gail’s hair was mostly auburn at her triangle with little more than a hint of blonde.  Bette’s mouth went dry a moment before she started to salivate.  Gail dropped to the floor.  “Let’s move over.”

Bette crab-crawled backward, never taking her eyes off of the woman who followed behind her on her knees.  Once they were on the soft, plush rug, Bette reached out to Gail and pulled her down beside her.  Gail rested her head in her hand as she lay stretched out next to Bette.  Bette gulped.  Everything about this was shocking.  She really couldn’t believe this was where she was, what she was doing, but quitting wasn’t something she was going to do.  Bette’s eyes never left Gail’s when shaking hands grabbed Gail’s wrist, moving her hand between her legs.  Bette knew she was ready, beyond ready.  She could feel the wetness on her thighs, dripping from her, tickling her folds.  Never had she needed a touch more.  She had to have it and when Gail’s eyes closed in response to what she felt and when she sighed so very deeply, Bette thought she’d collapse with that need. 

“Oh, you’re so…so wet.  Are you ready for this?”

“God, yes.  Please.”  Bette actually didn’t know what she was ready for or what she was begging for, other than a relief for this ache that reached well beyond her body; the ache was in her very soul.  She had no idea what Gail would do—finger her as Ash had done many times; push her fingers into her or use something else. 

She soon found out. Gail’s fingers slid into her folds, her thumb sliding up and down the soft, slick space between her outer and inner lips.  Bette’s heart raced, pumped, screamed out so that her brain heard.  Gail’s thumb caressed the sensitized, swelling labia.  “Ahhh.  Oh, yes.”  Bette moaned.  Reaching up, she squeezed Gail’s breast nonchalantly.  It was hard to concentrate on anything other than what was happening between her legs.