Wondering About Wands

Amber Angel lies sprawled across the sheets, fingers buried deep, slick sounds rising between her legs. When the ache demands more, she reaches for the wand, presses the buzzing head against her swollen clit and arches off the bed with a broken moan. The door swings open. Leana Lovings freezes in the threshold, wide-eyed, jacket still half-zipped. She blurts out an apology; she’s the girlfriend of Amber’s sibling and picked the wrong bedroom. Both women stare, flushed to the roots of their hair, Leana already retreating on unsteady legs. But then she hesitates. “What…is that?” Her eyes flick to the wand still thrumming in Amber’s hand. Amber answers before she can stop herself: pressure, rhythm, how the broad head makes everything pulse and throb. Leana’s breath catches. She wets her lips, mortified at her own words. “Could I…try it? Just once. I wouldn’t know how to use it on my own.” Amber’s laugh comes out tight and nervous. They tell themselves it’s harmless, academic even—two women sharing a gadget, nothing more. Leana slides onto the mattress, knees brushing Amber’s thigh. The first touch of the wand on bare skin makes Leana’s hips jerk, a strangled sound escaping her throat. Amber adjusts the angle, steadies her, their faces close enough to taste the heat of each other’s breath. Straightforward. Harmless. They keep repeating the lie until the moans make liars of them both.