For Better Or Worse by Payne, Jodi (read my book txt) 📕

to make my access easier. I fuck her with my tongue until she is practically screaming in frustration. With both hands on the bench now, she lifts her hips slightly, rocking them against my mouth. I know it’s not enough for her, I know exactly what she wants and I wait until she whimpers again to give it to her.

Flattening my tongue, I press it over her clitoris and then, with a good amount of pressure, I scrub her clit hungrily.

Julie groans loudly, her breath erratic and shallow. “Oh, oh God, oh God, oh yes!”

She’s close so I’m careful not to change a thing. I keep the motion repetitive and the pressure constant so as not to interrupt her urgent need. I feel her rise; her ass tightens in my fingers, her hips jerk against me, her thighs tighten around my ears. The tension reaches a fever pitch before it finally breaks; bursts but then flows, like water spilling over a levee. Julie trembles and pants and I pull myself away to watch the lovely astonishment on her face melt into relaxed satisfaction.

She slips from her stool to kneel between my legs and kiss me. She can taste herself on my lips, I know, which is so erotic that I find myself moaning softly into her mouth. I can’t imagine any greater turn-on than watching Julie come. I can’t imagine any sweeter taste than her kiss. And when Julie’s fingers cup and press and rub me through my jeans, my body tingles and longs for her to take me with her.

1

The phone rang sending Julie jumping out of bed.

“Phone!” she called out to me, as if I couldn’t hear it for myself.

“You know who that is, don’t you?” I warned her but she picked it up anyway, and waved a hand at me to be quiet. I slid out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts.

“Hello?” Julie said calmly into the receiver. “Oh, hello, Anna. I was planning on calling you but, hm? Oh, no actually it’s Gail, she’s, uh…” Julie looked at me. “She’s sick.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not sick, I’m just kinky.” I grinned at Julie, who gave me a lemon face and her ‘shut up’ look in return. I laughed softly and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

“Yeah that was her, she’s… delirious,” I heard Julie say over the running water. “What? I beg your pardon, but no! No, we were not fucking!” I nearly swallowed the toothpaste. Julie was laughing in that embarrassed way that lets everyone know you’re lying. We were so busted.

“Okay, okay, so we were fucking,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it was Gail’s idea!”

“What are we, twelve, now?” I called out from the bathroom. I heard Julie apologizing to Anna and then she appeared at the bathroom door. “Our friends know us entirely too well.” She tried to look contrite, but the growing grin on her lips gave her away. Julie was very much one for doing the ‘right’ thing so I loved it when I could get her into to mischief.

Julie slid into the bathroom behind me and looked at me in the mirror. “Anna reminded me about the function tonight,” she said. “We’re going this time. You got me?”

I groaned. I had to learn to time my seductions better. I would rather have gone to Anna’s last night and skipped this afternoon’s ‘function’.

2

Cocktails. What a snore.

Could someone please find me a group of lesbians that don’t want the warm and fuzzy, traditional noose around their fingers, two and half kids and a dog? Or maybe a few dykes that don’t use recycled toilet paper and spend every Tuesday night in yoga class? Or one, just one woman who smokes?

If one more person asked me if Julie and I were planning a family I would have screamed. I actually considered stepping right into the middle of the damn cocktail party, raising my arms over my head and shouting, “No! We don’t want a family! Julie and I like drinking and dancing and staying out late! We like porn and cigarettes and swearing and we use squeezably-soft

Charmin! We eat McDonalds! And _le petit morte _ is the closest we’ve ever come to the dreaded bed-death, damn it!”

Is it so unimaginable to be committed in a relationship but still want to have fun? I swear, in our little lesbian community, the minute you hold hands with someone for more than two dates you’re no longer permitted around the single women. You’re labeled one of ‘them’, the couples, the women who showed up on someone’s doorstep with a U-haul.

For the record? It was a Ryder Truck. Stick _that _ in your pipe and smoke it. Although with my luck, _you _ probably don’t smoke, either.

I sighed, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Julie put a hand on my back. “You’re bored.”

“Oh my God, yes.” I said, turning and giving her a fake, plastered-on smile.

“I’m sorry, but I was invited and I couldn’t say no.”

“You’re too nice, Jules. You should have let me tell them no.”

Julie laughed. “How about another drink?”

“Mmm.” I smiled, that sounded like a great idea. “How _about _ another drink?” I replied with a wiggle of my eyebrows, and accepted the fingers Julie slipped into my hand to drag me over to what passed for a bar.

She was looking good that afternoon. It was a Saturday so she didn’t have on one of her school outfits. She was wearing her red top, which made her red hair look less red and more auburn, and it had a lovely v-neck dip that showcased the cleft of her cleavage nicely. Her khakis were nothing to write home about except where they clung to her ass, right on the crest, round and lovely.

“I’ll have an amaretto sour and my girl here will have a cosmopolitan.” I said to our hostess. She gave me an uneasy smile in return and then looked to Julie for