Enjoys Her Massage
Two women sit in their underwear on a futon, facing each other. Their unshaven legs are intertwined. A tube sock is almost all the way off. A bottle of Astroglide is approximately four-and-a-half miles away at the nearest Walmart. A soft moan grows louder.
“Oh my god, that feels so good. What are you doing?”
“Absentmindedly rubbing your foot.”
“Well, keep doing it.”
“I always do it this way.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You always like how I absentmindedly rub your feet!”
“I do. But you’re doing something different. What are you doing different?”
“I think I was just using my knuckles more.”
“Oh, please. Use your knuckles more.”
“Or, maybe I was digging into your arch more.”
“Oh, please. Dig into my arch more.”
“Actually, I think I was just processing.”
“Oh, please. Keep processing. I’m just about to process.”
Dominant Brunette Convinces Blonde
to Try Something New
A brunette and a blonde are sitting on a couch watching Chopped on the Food Network when the brunette hastily grabs her partner’s hand. Her eyes flicker with some kind of plan. Her cargo shorts stop just below the knee.
“Ready?” she teases and interlaces their fingers. Their naked palms are touching. She is not done. She cups their joined flesh with her other hand. “This is going to blow your mind, trust me,” she coos.
“Wait a minute,” the blonde says. “Didn’t we see this episode?” Pre-cooked pigs’ snouts are being drawn from the contestants’ baskets.
“Yes, probably twice,” the brunette says in a low, soft voice. “Now shut your eyes,” she demands.
The blonde does as she is told, and as the warmth of her lover’s hands enters her own, she begins to imagine how she would prepare a pre-cooked pig’s nose. A fine chop and a slight pan fry? Maybe a rough chop and then put it in the fryer, like how bull calf testicles are served? Great, now she’s thinking of putting testicles in her mouth. Suddenly, her interlaced hand is being shaken up and down and all around, causing her snap-button Western shirt not to slide off her shoulder at all because it’s all buttoned up.
“What are you doing?” Her heart pounds wildly. “This doesn’t feel good at all!”
“Look down,” the brunette orders, moving her cupped hand just enough to expose only their two naked thumbs. “Tell me,” she says, her almost identical snap-button Western shirt not even beginning to slide off her shoulders, either, “which one is your thumb?”
“Oh my gosh,” the now willing blonde gushes. “I don’t know… I can’t even feel which one is my hand! It’s like you made me totally numb!”
“Freaky, huh? My mom used to do this with me. ”
“How is your mom?”
A Couple O’ Cats
“Take your shirt off, baby,” the mature lesbian softly instructs her young lover. She rubs a leash between her fingers.
“Right here?” Her young lover looks around nervously.
“She won’t come near you unless you do because she can smell your dog.”
“Oh, wow. Okay.” Her young lover slowly removes her shirt. She is not wearing a bra. She is wearing a sports bra. It only partially covers her tattoo of… a dragon? An angry chick with messy hair? Something meaningful exploding out of a feather? “There,” she says tentatively. “Pssst, pssst,” she tries.
The mature lesbian crawls behind her young lover, wraps her legs around her and pulls her into her own spread thighs, which are clad in a quick-drying fabric great for hiking or tooling around. She rhythmically pats the floor between her young lover’s open legs.
“Pssst, pssst, psst, psst, pssst, psst,” the mature lesbian says.
“Pssst, pssst, psst, psst, pssst, psst,” the young lover says.
The two lovers explode with a gentle “Awww” at the exact same time in a urine-stained concrete hallway of a Los Angeles animal shelter.
“I really want another cat,” the young lover whimpers, her fingers glistening with feral kitty slobber.
The mature lesbian cannot restrain herself. She wraps her sagging arms tight around her young lover and squeals, “We can name him Oreo!”