Obsessed With Pussy

When Angela finally walked through the door Penny's shoulders dropped. She had been pacing for half an hour, hands twisting in her lap, waiting to spill the secret that clawed at her every night. The words tumbled out before Angela could settle into her chair. Penny admitted she couldn't stop picturing women—the sharp bite of long nails down her back, the warm weight of another set of breasts against her mouth, the clean, wet heat that would wait between another woman's thighs. She kept insisting she was straight, yet her dreams refused to behave. Angela let the silence stretch, watching the tremor that ran through Penny's fingers. Then she leaned forward and said the obvious: Penny needed to taste what she craved, not simply fight it. One evening, one careful, thorough surrender, and Penny would finally know where she belonged. Penny froze. The suggestion felt obscene and necessary at the same time. Angela's voice stayed calm, persuasive, clinical. That made it easier for Penny to nod. They stood. Angela's palms slid up under Penny's sweater, cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing until her nipples stood sharp. Penny's breath broke into little catches while Angela unfastened each button, revealing skin that flushed under every slow pass of her tongue. Soon they were on the sofa, Angela's mouth working its way down Penny's belly, parting her thighs with the gentle certainty of someone who already knew how ready Penny would be. Two fingers pushed inside—knuckles slick, knuckles deep—curving until Penny's hips leapt. When Angela's tongue replaced them, flat and warm, Penny bucked against the cushions, shocked at how readily her body answered. She whispered that she wasn't like this, that it was only for tonight, but the wet sound of Angela's mouth between her legs made every denial shaky. Angela smiled once against the soft skin above Penny's clit, then sucked again. Penny's thighs trembled; her protests thinned to whimpers. Later, when she lay open-mouthed and gasping, Angela knew the grin Penny claimed wasn't there was exactly where she'd expected it—hidden, warm, already winning.