Hers ended first, in a messy divorce, and I let her sob on my virtual shoulder until the ache eventually faded and she healed. Her fingers fluttered between my legs, spreading open my vulva. I was very conscious of the swell of her breast touching mine. “If you say it’s all right,” she told me once, “I know it’s all right. It was Star who’d held out a hand to pull me out. I could feel her chest rise and fall with the increased pace of her excited breathing. “Am I hurting you?” I asked. She shuddered. “What was that?” she whispered when she’d finally stopped coming. “Kiss me,” she said urgently. No wonder you go for women.”
“It’s not always that lesbian sex is better,” I said.
