Anthea teasingly walks backwards as she kicks off her shoes and unhooks her bra, dropping it to the floor. Kate follows obligingly, her own clothing falling in a trail behind her as they make their way to the sitting room. Anthea stops at the edge of the sofa, thighs pressed against the arm, and Kate steps into her space.
Their lips touch first, a ghost of space between their bodies as they kiss, the cool air forming gooseflesh. Anthea swipes her tongue across Kate’s lips and shivers as Kate trails one finger down her arm. Kate takes a step closer, leg insinuating itself between Anthea’s thighs, and, with one hand at the small of her back, pulls them together, leg pressed firmly against Anthea’s heat.
She grins against Kate’s mouth and rocks her hips, Kate’s hand at her back stroking, teasing. There’s pressure and give between them, a bit of controlled force, but they don’t play with power, don’t beg and order and flirt with the edges of pain, not together. Kate has Irene for that and Anthea Harry – though not often of late, as Harry’s recent abstinence seems to stretch to all areas of her life. Anthea’s thought about it with Irene, of course, ruminated on that confident voice, those clever hands, wondered how she’d respond to Irene, if she’d submit.
Of course, she’ll have to wait until all this business with the cameraphone is over to try – it’d be terribly unprofessional otherwise.
As if sensing her distraction, Kate nips at her lower lip. Dropping to her knees, Kate nudges Anthea’s legs apart, sliding her fingers through Anthea’s lips. She’s beginning to get wet, feeling a tingle of interest as Kate’s fingers spread her and she leans in close, breath warm on her clit. Anthea tilts her hips up but Kate moves with her, mouth pulling back as she grips Anthea’s thighs.
“Oh, get on with it,” Anthea growls and Kate pinches the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
“Patience,” she admonishes, and Anthea scoffs.
“I don’t like waiting.” Kate laughs, flicking her eyes up to glance at Anthea through her lashes.
“You don’t, do you? You tend to just take –” she swipes her tongue delicately over her upper lip. “– just take whatever it is you want.”
Anthea slips her hand through Kate’s hair, drawing them over the curve of her ear to twine the strands around her fingers. “Is that what you want me to do, then? Take what I like?” She pulls her head closer, until Kate’s lips tickle against the short hair just covering her cunt. Kate breathes out and Anthea shivers.
After a long pause, Kate shrugs a shoulder and murmurs against Anthea’s skin, “I’ll give you whatever you ask for.”
Anthea grins and loosens her grip. “Well then. D’you mind?”
“Not at all.” Kate ducks her head and draws her tongue up Anthea’s cunt, flicking the tip over her clit with a flourish. Anthea sighs happily as Kate moves in again, her tongue drawing soft circles. Her movements flutter between languid and clamorous, one moment a soft, teasing flick with the tip of her tongue and the next a punishing stroke. Anthea squirms under her mouth, enjoying the flux of her movements, tantalising and unpredictable.
Anthea curls her fingers into the arm of the sofa, rising up on her toes as she feels the heat build in her cunt. Kate follows, mouth warm and tongue firm against her clit, insistent and driving. “Oh, fuck, Kate, right, yes,” she gulps out, as the tension coils then explodes, warmth spreading through her body as she arches against Kate’s lips.
Fill: Stress Relief (2/5)
Their lips touch first, a ghost of space between their bodies as they kiss, the cool air forming gooseflesh. Anthea swipes her tongue across Kate’s lips and shivers as Kate trails one finger down her arm. Kate takes a step closer, leg insinuating itself between Anthea’s thighs, and, with one hand at the small of her back, pulls them together, leg pressed firmly against Anthea’s heat.
She grins against Kate’s mouth and rocks her hips, Kate’s hand at her back stroking, teasing. There’s pressure and give between them, a bit of controlled force, but they don’t play with power, don’t beg and order and flirt with the edges of pain, not together. Kate has Irene for that and Anthea Harry – though not often of late, as Harry’s recent abstinence seems to stretch to all areas of her life. Anthea’s thought about it with Irene, of course, ruminated on that confident voice, those clever hands, wondered how she’d respond to Irene, if she’d submit.
Of course, she’ll have to wait until all this business with the cameraphone is over to try – it’d be terribly unprofessional otherwise.
As if sensing her distraction, Kate nips at her lower lip. Dropping to her knees, Kate nudges Anthea’s legs apart, sliding her fingers through Anthea’s lips. She’s beginning to get wet, feeling a tingle of interest as Kate’s fingers spread her and she leans in close, breath warm on her clit. Anthea tilts her hips up but Kate moves with her, mouth pulling back as she grips Anthea’s thighs.
“Oh, get on with it,” Anthea growls and Kate pinches the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
“Patience,” she admonishes, and Anthea scoffs.
“I don’t like waiting.” Kate laughs, flicking her eyes up to glance at Anthea through her lashes.
“You don’t, do you? You tend to just take –” she swipes her tongue delicately over her upper lip. “– just take whatever it is you want.”
Anthea slips her hand through Kate’s hair, drawing them over the curve of her ear to twine the strands around her fingers. “Is that what you want me to do, then? Take what I like?” She pulls her head closer, until Kate’s lips tickle against the short hair just covering her cunt. Kate breathes out and Anthea shivers.
After a long pause, Kate shrugs a shoulder and murmurs against Anthea’s skin, “I’ll give you whatever you ask for.”
Anthea grins and loosens her grip. “Well then. D’you mind?”
“Not at all.” Kate ducks her head and draws her tongue up Anthea’s cunt, flicking the tip over her clit with a flourish. Anthea sighs happily as Kate moves in again, her tongue drawing soft circles. Her movements flutter between languid and clamorous, one moment a soft, teasing flick with the tip of her tongue and the next a punishing stroke. Anthea squirms under her mouth, enjoying the flux of her movements, tantalising and unpredictable.
Anthea curls her fingers into the arm of the sofa, rising up on her toes as she feels the heat build in her cunt. Kate follows, mouth warm and tongue firm against her clit, insistent and driving. “Oh, fuck, Kate, right, yes,” she gulps out, as the tension coils then explodes, warmth spreading through her body as she arches against Kate’s lips.