Their Love Was Her Only Desire
To relight that fire may take an audacious, illicit fantasy. (Here’s one for you, in any case.)
In the end, the kiss was all they had.
They kissed with their whole bodies, these two lovers, in the final act of their story.
They stood face to face, naked, beside the bed where they no longer made love. Nose swapping with nose, lips embattled, tongues yearning. Breasts pressed to breasts, navel to navel, soft against soft. Hands constantly seeking purchase, to tighten their embrace, so that pubic hair entwined and rubbed with pubic hair, surely enough to invoke sensation in other places below.
But actually, not enough. Inside, Eva was frantic. She knew it was over. There would be nothing more than this kiss. Though she loved Jessi with all of her pain-wracked heart. There was simply no longer a spark, nothing left to drive them to make the love they both still needed.
What was worse: Eva also knew it was her fault.
Maybe not to begin with, in the days when they had still played their parts in bed: performing the acts they knew they each liked — their preferences remarkably aligned, as much as the physical similarities that often led others to assume they were sisters. But almost from the beginning their love-making had begun to slowly, inexorably lose its power. It became more and more humdrum, mechanical; and orgasm more and more rare.
Eva had eventually fixed that problem, at least temporarily.
She had fixed it, with Amy.
Amy, her secret Instagram crush. A powerfully built crossfit athlete whose rare swimsuit photos had been Eva’s guiltiest pleasure long before she had even met Jessi.
Amy was behind her now, in Eva’s imagining. It was not just Jessi’s hands that held her, but Amy’s too. Jessi’s body was soft at her front; Amy’s body was hard against her back. Eva could feel the urgency as Amy held her close, and used hands and lips to command and own Eva’s gentle body.
Even the kiss that she shared with Jessi was intended for Amy — to excite and arouse her. Jessi was an offering, a doubling of the gift of Eva’s body to the steel ghost who was her true lover.
And in that strange part of Eva’s imagination, which drove her reality, Amy had necessarily become a perfect reverse of Jessi — to fill the gaps left by the fading of passion. Where Jessi was delicate, Amy was strong. Jessi had comfortable curves; Amy, harsh structure. And with the power of her physicality, Amy did things that Jessi would never even dream.
The kiss was ebbing away, inevitably, tragically. Eva felt nothing from Jessi’s tongue, nothing from the formless union of their breasts; nothing from the lay of Jessi’s hands on her bottom.
She could not allow it. Not now. Not like this. With a sigh she focussed her will on Amy.
Help me, one last time.
She felt the answer at once. Pectoral muscles tensed, driving rigid nipples into her back. Lips on her shoulder gave way to teeth. Biceps and forearms crushed her sides — and suddenly both of Amy’s hands clamped onto her vulva, lifting her onto her toes, like an iron hook between her legs.
At first, Jessi seemed to give way, perhaps shocked; though Eva had the presence of mind not to let her go. But then, suddenly, Jessi rallied. Her mouth pressed forward, her tongue reinvigorated. Eva met her furiously, and for a second they were lovers again.
But only for a second. It wasn’t Jessi’s mouth and body that excited Eva. It was Amy.
What was she doing? Eva’s mind had lost Amy’s body, though at least one hand still clutched her pubic bone. There was perhaps some wetness trailing down her back — was Amy squatting down? Where was her other hand?
Pressure between her legs. She yielded, shuffling both feet out. The hand on her vulva was twisting, becoming awkward, releasing.
Lips, on her bottom. My god, what?
Now pushing, from behind and below. Not just a finger. Two. More?
A forearm was rigid across the front of her hips. She could not escape. Her labia were yielding aside, stretching, as Amy began to thrust all four fingers of her other hand inside.
“Amy!” Eva gasped.
The power was incredible, the sensation unlike anything she had imagined before. Her clit, though untouched, was throbbing with her every heartbeat, as her vagina yielded to the invasion of Amy’s rigid hand. She was being filled; she was being fucked, she was being completed; and made completely vulnerable.
But now, Amy was still. A half-heard question had somehow frozen the fantasy.
Eva opened her eyes.
And Jessi, standing away, her arms protectively crossed over her breasts, asked again, “who’s Amy?”
Eva cringed.
“Oh my god.”
They were still naked; sitting side by side, on the bed that they once shared.
Of course, Eva knew it was over. But Jessi was not angry. In fact, Eva thought she sensed some relief. Perhaps it had taken a betrayal to finally lay bare what they both already knew.
She had told the truth — there was no other option. Jessi had listened quietly, pain playing across her features. But when Eva ran out of words and hung her head, Jessi had gently touched her thigh in reassurance.
Now, Jessi’s quiet breathing resolved into a sigh. Then:
“Please may I see her?”
For a moment Eva could not process the words.
Jessi repeated, “I’d like to see her. See Amy.”
Eva felt nauseous. She could not imagine that Jessi would punish her like this.
But, she deserved it. She would bear the cost. She rose, took her phone from the bedside, brought it back.
The images seemed sharper than ever before. She went straight to those she had saved — the ones with Amy awkwardly posing for a professional photographer. Such power, so out of place; and now, so tainted. Jessi said nothing as Eva scrolled slowly, until she couldn’t anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said, finally, hopelessly.
But Jessi was holding out her hand, fingers twitching with a request. Did she somehow want to destroy the phone, or Eva’s account?
She acceded, handed over the device. Jessi took it, switched to the search function, typed a user name; tapped a listed account.
Eva stared. What?
The account belonged to another woman; from the profile words, a fitness model.
She was amazing. Different to Amy, and yet not so different: more of an hourglass, more sculpted; and with even greater muscle definition. Jessi scrolled through a handful of images, but Eva was now gazing at her face.
“This is Mei,” she said.
The implication was like the collapse of the moon.
“When I struggled to make love to you, I thought of her,” continued Jessi gently, carefully.
“I’m sorry too.”
They laughed a little, held each other a little. There was no new spark; but there was still plenty of love, brittle and warm.
It was late, and exhaustion was claiming them both.
“We should put our pyjamas on,” observed Jessi, deadpan. When she snorted, Eva giggled freely.
“You nekkid,” she teased, poking Jessi’s side. Jessi caught her hand.
There was a sad pause. In times gone by, Jessi would have insistently placed that hand somewhere significant: her breast, or thigh. Sometimes it would lead to something, often it would just be familiar.
Eva dropped her eyes, and pulled gently to disengage the hand.
But Jessi would not let go.
“Do you think…” she said slowly, quietly. “Do you think.”
Eva watched her carefully. Surely, whatever Jessi was about to say was a mistake. She opened her mouth, hesitated.
Jessi went on rapidly: “Do you think Amy would like Mei?”
Eva gaped at her.
“I think she would,” Jessi stated. She rambled on, “I mean, they like us femmes, sure, but I bet they’d hit on each other if they got the chance. Like, they’re athletes. Can you imagine the sex?”
Her eyes had widened at her own words. “Can you imagine the sex?”
Eva felt a tug of adrenaline, a flush in her cheeks; a flush below.
“Oh my god,” she muttered. They were staring into each other’s eyes, as something new was ushered into being between them.
With a nervous crack in her voice, Eva demanded, “Tell me what Mei likes.”
Jessi let out a soft whoop, like the release of a long-sealed bottle.
“She likes to… well…”
She paused.
“No, Eva,” she said. “No, not this way.”
The words could have been crushing, but Eva could see Jessi was still riding high.
“They should date first.”
Eva laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was perfect. Jessi began to laugh too, until they both collapsed backwards on the bed, still holding hands.
Eventually, Eva found the breath and the courage to say, “That’s true. Shall we see how that goes, together?”
Jessi was nodding.
“But first.” Eva turned her head towards her lover. “First, I don’t see why they can’t imagine each other.”
Tentatively, slowly, she reached her free hand towards Jessi’s body.
“I’d say Mei is thinking of Amy right now,” she observed, significantly, watching Jessi’s wide eyes.
“She’s imagining Amy’s body, while she touches her own.”
Jessi sighed out a breath, as though she had been holding it. “She loves to touch herself,” she remarked. “She pretends her fingers are Amy’s.”
Jessi’s head turned to the ceiling, while her hand stole onto Eva’s skin, slowly, but with purpose.
“And Amy’s thinking of Mei,” she prompted.
Eva’s fingers were snagging softly into Jessi’s pubic hair. There was no hesitation any more — she knew exactly how Jessi liked to be touched. And now, with a new fantasy, there was electricity again.
“Yes, Amy is lying in bed, naked. She’s holding her own arms, and flexing them.”
Jessi made a high-pitched noise as each of their hands simultaneously draped fingers over a clit.
“Oh my god, Mei likes to do that too,” she managed, her voice fading and returning with the gentle pressure below. “She moves her hands onto her breasts too. Back and forth.”
“Back and forth,” echoed Eva, trying to control her breathing. Then she gasped as Jessi’s fingers took on the prompt and circled over her labia.
“Fuck!” Jessi moaned deeply in her throat. Then: “Mei touches downward. Onto her abs. Amy is licking her.” She squeaked with pleasure. “Amy’s licking her abs.”
Their hands mirrored each other, middle fingers pushing gently ahead of the others, probing. Eva knew from her vulva and her finger that she and Jessi were both becoming wet; and of course, that fact only fuelled itself.
When she found her voice again, Eva continued haphazardly, “Not just. Her abs. Now below. Now.” She giggled at her own incoherence.
Jessi’s fingers were pressing harder, vibrating just a little, sending spasms through Eva; and she mirrored it as best she could. She gasped out: “Amy. Imagines. Mei’s tongue.”
Jessi was arching her back. She did that to signal she wanted to orgasm — she had done it so rarely lately. “Mei!” she called. She flexed the other way, almost accidentally driving a spasm of pleasure into Eva’s vulva.
Neither could resist escalating their caresses now, as if they were touching themselves and time was short. Their imaginations needed little prompting; but there was still power in the sharing.
“Holding her legs.” Eva managed. “Licking her.”
“God yes!” thrilled Jessi. “Strong thighs. Strong arms!” She lost her voice, whispered the next: “Strong tongue…”
The dance their fingers performed was exquisite, the fruit of long practice, with each other and with themselves. Eva thundered into her orgasm so suddenly and so violently that she lost track of who she was, who Jessi was, who Amy, who Mei. This was another new completeness, one she would never have been able to imagine by herself, the union of her own dreams with her lover’s.
There was no ending, after all.
So, when it was over, they kissed again.
I’m Cody Kmochova, and I write lesbian fantasies. I hope you enjoyed this frisky erotica. To relax, would you like to try a fairytale?
