A Fool for Love: Part One

Rebel Lynn had long stopped pretending her eyes belonged anywhere but Sara Luvv’s ass. Each time her friend turned, the curves drew her gaze like a secret she was already guilty of enjoying. She stayed quiet. She stayed behind. Shyness kept her hands locked at her sides and her thoughts roiling between her thighs. They had the house to themselves. With the afternoon sun thick on their skin they slipped into the hot tub, water lapping at ribs and waists. Rebel forced her voice steady and asked what Sara and her boyfriend got up to when no one was watching. Jealousy stung before the answer even came. Sara spoke of lazy dips, bare skin drying in the sun. She paused, gave Rebel a small shrug. “I don’t like him much.” Hope snapped through Rebel like a live wire. She felt it in her stomach, lower still. Sara slid closer. “I’ve wanted to touch you for months. You feel it too.” The words landed hot. Rebel barely had time to breathe before Sara pulled her in and silenced her with a kiss, then with demands. “Kiss every inch,” Sara whispered. Fingers untied Rebel’s top; thumbs and forefingers rolled Rebel’s tight nipples until they ached sweetly. Rebel’s mouth opened at the silent order. She sucked, licked, drank in Sara’s soft weight, moans muffled against warm flesh. Rebel stood, peeled away her bottoms and leaned forward over the tub’s edge. Sun caught the bare cleft between her thighs. Sara took her time. Two slow fingertips traced Rebel’s outer lips, slippery under water, until Rebel shook and spilled with a sharp cry that broke across the empty yard. Sara climbed up, planted her knees on either side of Rebel’s face and rode her tongue, hips rolling, voice low and sure: “Make me come.” Rebel’s mind raced, struggled to hold the moment as real. The taste, the weight, the trembling thighs—everything was happening faster than she could trust. She stayed on her knees, still shy, still hungry, and kept giving Sara what they both needed.