Free For Good by Karelia Stetz-Waters Page B

voice inside her whispered, You did that to me, Marydale. Marydale! When Kristen had relaxed again, Marydale rolled off her, her smile all pride and accomplishment.
    “Wow.” Kristen stared up at the ceiling until her breath returned to its normal rhythm. “I never…”
    Kristen rolled onto her side. She stroked the length of Marydale’s body, across her breasts, flattened now by gravity, and across her hip and her belly. Then she trailed her fingers through the hair above Marydale’s sex.
    “May I?” Kristen asked.
    The smile faded from Marydale’s eyes. “You don’t have to.”
    “I want to.”
    Something about the tension in Marydale’s jaw made her look like someone steeling herself for a blow. Kristen touched her very, very gently.
    “I’ve got to pay attention,” she said, searching Marydale’s face. “Is there anything I should know? What you like? Don’t like?”
    “I don’t know,” Marydale whispered.
    Kristen stroked Marydale’s thighs, feeling the cords of muscle.
    “You don’t know?” Very gently Kristen touched the curls above Marydale’s sex.
    “I mean…not really.”
    Slowly Kristen moved her hand between Marydale’s open thighs and slipped the tip of her finger between Marydale’s legs, closing her eyes for a second to better feel the structure of her body. This is the first time , Kristen thought. Marydale’s body felt so delicate, her skin so soft, the moisture of her sex so shy and intimate. Kristen was almost afraid to touch her, afraid to hurt her.
    “Oh,” Marydale whispered, but although her hips lifted toward Kristen’s touch, her eyes remained focused on the ceiling.
    “What if I don’t find your clit?” Kristen rubbed Marydale’s mons, moving the soft flesh around again and again until Marydale’s eyes finally met hers again. “I’ve heard it’s very hard to find. Is it here?”
    Marydale gasped. She pressed her hips against Kristen’s hand, as if trying to guide her, but Kristen moved her touch to the side of Marydale’s sex and massaged her outer labia.
    “Or here?”
    Now Marydale smiled. “You’re teasing me.”
    “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Kristen said. “Women are very complicated.”
    “Please,” Marydale breathed.
    “Tell me if I get it wrong,” Kristen said. She found Marydale’s clit shielded in a mantle of swollen flesh and circled the tip with her finger so lightly only molecules of their bodies touched. All the while Marydale’s breath came in little gasps like white-capped waves on the ocean. Kristen traced the circle again and again.
    “There,” Marydale gasped.
    “Can you feel this?” Kristen slowed her breathing. “This?”
    She was surprised how easy it was to ask. Questions like that had always made her self-conscious, and the corresponding requests had always made her feel vaguely put upon— rub harder, pinch it there —as though she were in some naughty ceramics class. But she wanted to talk to Marydale, to hold her close with her touch and her kiss and her words.
    Kristen slid two fingers into Marydale’s body, surprised by how complex she was inside, not just a smooth sheath like the inside of a condom, but ridged in some places and thick and swollen in others.
    “Is this okay?” Kristen breathed, easing her fingers in and out and over Marydale’s clit and back inside her.
    “I think you know what you’re doing.” Marydale’s voice was rough.
    And Kristen felt like she did.
    “I’m glad I’m your first girl,” Marydale said, pressing her hips up to meet Kristen’s hand.
    Kristen leaned down and kissed her, a deep kiss matched by the movement of her fingers. Kristen wished she could touch Marydale everywhere all at once. They kissed until Marydale’s back arched and her fingers dug into the sheets. Kristen released her from the kiss and continued to stroke her.
    “You’re killing me.” Marydale groaned, but she was smiling, and Kristen thought that nothing had ever flattered her