system would be to ask her out. If she said no, sheâd know for sure she had no chance and get over it. But if she said yes...
The possibilities â erotic and otherwise â were endless and, as Mackenzie roared away on her Ducati Monster, Abigail couldnât help but think about just how much sheâd like to explore each and every one of those possibilities with her. Repeatedly.
Chapter Two
â¦â¦â¦â¦
Abigail dreamt of Mackenzie again that night. It was hardly surprising, given the way sheâd gotten her going that day, roaring up on the motorbike and caressing it like a lover, before jutting that cute ass in her direction. The courier had thrown plentiful fuel on Abigailâs fantasy fire and now her dreams were reflecting her inflamed state.
She woke suddenly, bathed in sweat and with an ache and wetness between her legs that wouldnât allow her to forget what sheâd been dreaming about.
âFor fuckâs sake,â she murmured, rolling onto her back and flopping onto the pillows with more force than was necessary. âShe wonât even leave me alone when Iâm asleep!â
She aimed her irritation at Mackenzie, even though she knew it was unfounded. It was easier than admitting to herself that she was harbouring a growing obsession â it had gone way beyond attraction by now â for someone she didnât know. They hadnât even met, really, beyond Abigail accepting a parcel and the usual pleasantries that went with such a menial task. The only reason she even knew Mackenzieâs name is because it had been on the paperwork sheâd scrawled her signature on when signing for the package.
And now here she was, dreaming about the woman for the umpteenth time and sticking her hand down her pyjama bottoms to try and relieve the residual tension. Sheâd tried ignoring it, time and time again, but it was impossible for her to sleep with that throb between her legs. She just couldnât do it.
She opened her legs for better access, spreading her index and middle fingers and sliding them down her labia, before rubbing up and down on the rapidly swelling flesh. The squelch of pussy juices was audible from beneath the covers, and she dipped a fingertip in to see just how wet she was. She gasped. Wet wasnât a strong enough word. Sopping, perhaps, or saturated. Regardless of terminology, Abigailâs body had had an incredibly powerful reaction to what sheâd been up to in her dreams and was demanding that she dealt with it.
Unwilling â or unable â to refuse, she pressed a finger to her clit. It was sensitive, needy, and she knew that it wouldnât take much to make her cum. The dream had obviously been her foreplay, and now her hungry cunt was ready for the main event. She pulled the swollen bundle of nerve endings between finger and thumb and rolled it, gently at first. Then she punctuated each roll with a pinch. Roll, pinch. Roll, pinch. She knew if she carried on like that, sheâd be climaxing within a minute or so. Normally, if she woke in the middle of the night, she was eager to get back to sleep as soon as possible, otherwise sheâd be grumpy in the morning. But for some reason, on this occasion she was happy to draw out her orgasm, knowing it would result in a more powerful reaction in the long run.
Stopping her torment on her clit, Abigail pushed two fingers inside her pussy, then drew them back out, before sucking them into her mouth. She moaned blissfully, closing her eyes. The taste of pussy had always gotten her hot, and as she enjoyed the mixture of sweet and tart on her tongue, she let her mind wander. Specifically, onto how she thought Mackenzieâs pussy juices would taste. Abigail knew she was seriously biased, but she thought theyâd taste divine. And, right at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to push her face between the younger womanâs legs to find out.
Unfortunately, all
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