The hardest part of a marathon is often around Miles 20 and 21. It’s the terrible intersection where the body is exhausted and the mind knows that the finish line is still miles ahead.
Lauren hit that low point around noon. She was in good condition, her small body lean and toned, but the day was simply too much. It was much hotter than expected, over 80 degrees even at the starting line, and she had been struggling since Mile 14. She was too hot, too dehydrated, and had pushed too hard for her first marathon.
The last thing she saw before collapsing were the waves of heat rising from the roadway.
When her eyelids next fluttered open, she had no idea where she was. Everything was unfamiliar, her mind was blank, and she felt a momentary panic.
A hand came down on her shoulder. “You’re awake,” a woman’s voice announced softly. “How are you feeling?”
Lauren blinked, trying to comprehend. A world took shape around her. She was in a tent, one of those outdoor event tents that had a roof but no walls. People were bustling around her. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Nothing held her down, but her limbs simply would not cooperate. The woman leaned over her. She was a friendly woman, probably in her early fifties, wearing a white top with a little red cross near her clavicle. “Did you enjoy your little nap?” Every thought took extreme effort. Her limbs would still not cooperate. “Wha — what happened?” she rasped.
“You went down on the course. You’re severely dehydrated. We’re giving you an IV drip now.”
“I can’t move.”
The woman chuckled. “That’s normal. You’re so dehydrated that your body more or less shut down. You can move, but it’s a lot of work, so just lie there and rest. You’ll be okay. We’ve almost got you filled back up.”
With an extreme force of will, and just to settle her own mind, Lauren willed her right hand to rise. It did, quivering, but it felt like it weighed 30 pounds. She let it drop back to her side with a plop.
The nurse brushed a sweaty lock of brunette hair from over Lauren’s eyes. “We’ll finish up this drip, and then you should be on the road to recovery. It’s just going to take a while, probably the rest of the evening, before you feel well enough to move around.”
Lauren’s energy was drained from the effort of raising her hand, so she didn’t reply.
The woman produced a form. “What we need to do is for you to go home and rest. You’re in no danger or anything. You just need to build up your strength. Do you have a ride home?”
Lauren struggled to form her reply. She ticked back the past 24 hours. Airline from home. Nice hotel room at the Marriott. She had watched a movie the night before. She had ordered room service. The town was…Cincinnati.
Did she know anyone in Cincinnati?
“I … I’m at the Marriott.” The sentence was difficult to form.
The older woman got a worried look. “Oh, you’re from out of town? Are you staying with someone? Do you have someone to drive you there and look after you?”
Lauren’s eyes teared up, partly at the memory and mostly because she was so exhausted that the mere act of thinking was an emotional ordeal. She had no one, not since the divorce. She was alone, and not just in Cincinnati. “No.”
The nurse pursed her lips, but a voice intervened. “Oh, I can look after her!”
The voice was cheery, bright, and female. It came from somewhere behind her head as she lay on the stretcher, but it was far too much work to turn and locate it.
The nurse looked up. “You can help her?” she asked.
“Sure! She said she’s at the Marriott? I live close to there. I can escort her back and get her up into her hotel room. Does she have a car that we need to move?”
The nurse looked into Lauren’s eyes, and felt her forehead for heat. “Do you have a car?”
It was so hard to concentrate, so hard to form the words to an answer, but the world was at least starting to come into focus. “No,” she whispered. “Cab.”
“You took a cab here?”
With all the strength she could muster, Lauren offered an ‘uh-huh’.
“All the better. I’ll put her in my car, and problem solved!” The cheery voice behind her continued.
Who was this person? Lauren hoped this angel of mercy would come closer, because she couldn’t turn to look. There was no way she had the strength to even stand up, much less find a cab back to the hotel. She needed help.
“Do you feel like sitting up?” the nurse asked. Then, to the voice behind her she said, “Let’s help her sit up.”
The nurse gently grasped her wrists and pulled forward, while some helping hands from behind propped her up from the back and shoulders. Lauren was able to remain upright on the stretcher only with help. Her vision tunneled for a moment before widening again.
The helper sat on the stretcher behind her, nestling up against her back and supporting her. Two strong but feminine arms wrapped around her waist and her rib cage. “You okay, sweetie?” The voice was an inch behind her left ear, so close that she could feel the breath. Lauren could feel the swell of ample breasts against her back, cushioning her and holding her up.
“I can’t move. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’ll help you.” In a slightly louder voice, she said to the nurse, “Let me take her back to her hotel. I’ll stay with her until I’m sure she’s okay.”
“Is that okay with you?” The nurse peered into Lauren’s glassy eyes.
Lauren nodded. Bless this woman to help her.
“Okay, let’s get her up. You get the left and I’ll get the right.”
The nurse moved to Lauren’s right side, and the other woman came around to the left, giving Lauren her first good look. The angel of mercy was blonde with stylishly straight shoulder-length hair. She was perhaps in her late thirties, and had the toned body of an aerobics instructor, curvy and strong and fit. She didn’t particularly look like a runner, but at the same time she looked fit enough to do anything she wanted to.
Lauren, on the other hand, had a runner’s body, small and sleek, with enough curves to turn men’s heads, but just barely. The other two women were both at least four inches taller than her waifish 5′-3″ form, so it wasn’t a huge effort to drape her arms over their shoulders and half lift, half carry her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as they walked her out to the parking area. Other than a few curious looks, they arrived without incident to a red Honda Accord, relatively new and shiny. The two women maneuvered Lauren into the front seat, and the blonde gave the nurse a quick goodbye hug before climbing into the driver’s seat. As she stretched to the pedals, she displayed long, beautiful legs clad in short runner’s shorts, and a snug-fitting running top that accentuated her curvy figure and proclaimed her a finisher of this same race two years ago.
She patted Lauren affectionately on the thigh. “Don’t worry,” she reassured, reaching across Lauren to fasten her seat belt. “We’ll have you back in your hotel room in no time. And in the meantime I’ll crank up the air conditioner.”
“Mmmmm,” said Lauren when the cold air hit her. “That’s fantastic.”
The woman grinned. “It’s 84 degrees out there now. They were considering canceling the race, but it’s too hard to do that at the last minute with 4,000 runners. How far did you get before you went down?”
“I…I remember Mile 20. I think I remember Mile 21, but I don’t remember if I passed it.” Lauren’s voice was soft. Her mind was coming back even if her body remained weak.
“Oh, too bad. You were almost there.”
“I’m embarrassed. This has never happened to me.” The woman laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t the only one.”
“I’m so exhausted I can’t even move. I mean, I really can’t move.”
The taller woman smiled as she maneuvered through the parked cars toward the exit of the race area. “You can’t even raise your arms, I bet. I know. It happened to me once. I did a long training run and overheated myself. I made it home, but I just dropped to the floor inside, crawled to the kitchen for some water, and lay there on the kitchen floor for the next hour. I wondered if I was going to make it.” The woman’s laugh was self-deprecating.
“That’s where I am right now. If this car was on fire I don’t think I could get the door open.” The woman laughed again. “You’ll recover. It’ll just take a while.” She looked sidelong at Lauren, up and down. “You’ll bounce back faster than I did. You’ve got a better build for running than I do, and you’re about ten years younger than me.”
Lauren took a deep breath. A better build for running,, she thought to herself, but not for most other things. She wanted to shake the woman’s hand, but couldn’t. She smiled wanly. “I’m Lauren. You are…?”
The blonde smiled. “Emily.” She held out a hand, then realized Lauren’s weakness. She brought it down and patted Lauren’s thigh again, leaving it there for a moment. Her hand was soft and pleasant on Lauren’s tortured muscles.
The two women made small talk back to the hotel, with Emily doing most of the talking. It was too much effort for Lauren, and both knew it. Emily was indeed an aerobics instructor, and ran as a hobby. She’d finished three marathons but it wasn’t her strength. However, she liked the race-day excitement so she occasionally volunteered at races in the medical tent. It was pleasant chatter and it allowed Lauren to mostly listen, occasionally nod, and rarely speak back. It was just what she needed to take her mind off her fatigue, to the extent that was possible.
The red Honda stopped at the Marriott parking lot, and Emily shut it down. “Okay, what room are you in?”
“Can you walk?”
Lauren wanted to be strong, but she had to be honest. “I’m not sure.”
“Let’s do this. You might need to work with me a little bit, and I apologize in advance if I get a little handy on you. We don’t have a third person helping any more.”
“I’m so grateful. Thank you.”
Emily went to the passenger side of the car, took Lauren’s hand, and the two pulled, maneuvered, and propped until Lauren was upright in Emily’s arms, facing her like a dance partner. Her legs were rubber underneath her, and with great effort the taller blonde somehow helped her stay upright while also closing and locking the car. With another deft maneuver or two, she managed to swing Lauren around until their arms were shoulder over shoulder, despite the height difference of the curvy blonde over the petite brunette.
Three floors later, they were in front of Room 308. “Where’s your key?” Emily asked.
“Oh. It’s in my right front pocket. It’s zipped. Let me — ”
“No, I’ll get it.” Emily moved behind Lauren, then trapped her upright between her own body and the hotel’s wall. Her hips ground firmly against Lauren’s buttocks, and it was a pleasant sensation despite the circumstances. Lauren felt Emily’s fingers probing her hips, almost massaging them, until she found the pocket. Emily unzipped it, reached in, and felt around.
She was feeling the front of Lauren’s hip, scarcely an inch from where her pubic hair would lie if she had kept any. Then the fingers edged south, down into the dip between Lauren’s hip and leg. Then over, and back again. For some reason Emily was having a difficult time locating the key, even though Lauren could feel it rattling around.
She was embarrassed to admit that it felt good. Maybe it was a survival mechanism, or perhaps it had something to do with endorphins and energy, but Lauren was never more aroused than after finishing a long run. She didn’t know how or why, but there was something there and it was unavoidable. She would do a ten-mile run, and then come home and masturbate furiously without exception. No shower, no rest, just come home, strip off her shorts and t-shirt, and go to town.
This situation was obviously different given her exhaustion, but only because she lacked the strength to do it. She could feel the familiar fire arising within her, and it was going to be brutal to lack the strength to address it.
Emily found the key and unlocked the door. It was delightfully cool inside. Holding Lauren in front of her, she duckwalked her to the bed, then turned her and playfully nudged her, letting her drop gracelessly onto the bed.
Emily surveyed the sprawled young woman below her. “How you doing?”
Lauren smiled weakly. “Much better all of a sudden.”
“Can you move on your own?”
“Not really. I’m getting better, though.”
“You poor thing.” Emily laughed and crawled onto the bed over her, her voluminous breasts bobbling over Lauren’s smaller chest. “Let me feel your forehead. Oh, you’re hot!”
“It feels so much better here. Thank you for bringing me.”
“I’m here to help. That’s why I volunteered.” She ran her fingers through Lauren’s sweaty hair, fussing to straighten it out.
Lauren closed her eyes for a moment. She could sense Emily’s continued proximity, and when she opened them again Emily was appraising her, her lips twisted in thought.
“You know what would make you feel a lot better?” In answer to Lauren’s questioning look, she answered her own question. “A nice cool shower.”
A nice cool shower, indeed. It sounded like heaven. But there was no way it was happening. She was not moving from this bed. Lauren nodded almost imperceptibly. “That would be wonderful,” she murmured. “Not going to happen, though.” “Can’t do it?”
Lauren nodded again.
The appraising look continued. After a moderate pause, Emily went on. “Let me help you. I can carry you in there. Seriously, you’ll be a new woman afterwards.”
“I can’t ask that.”
“You don’t have to. Just say yes and you’ll be there in no time.”
“I won’t take no for an answer. Come on, let’s hop in.”
Lauren’s mind hiccupped on the word ‘let’s’, but she was in no position to question it. It was already happening.
Emily positioned Lauren’s slender arms above her head. “Let’s get this shirt off first. Ewwww, sweaty!” She pulled up Lauren’s t-shirt, then crawled onto the bed above her head and worked it over her neck and arms. Lauren allowed it to happen; after all, she still had her sports bra on.
From above her head, Emily’s hands reached under Lauren’s bra cups, grazing her fingers on the underside of Lauren’s b-cup breasts. In one quick move they were exposed, her small nipples dark and tight as the sweat cooled them. Then the bra followed the same path over her head and arms. In the course of 30 seconds, Lauren had gone from decent to topless at the hands of this friendly stranger.
“Oh, wow. You’re so lucky. You have such perky breasts,” Emily chirped. “I wish mine would stand up like that.”
“It’s easy when they’re small,” Lauren confided. “But I’d rather be built like you.”
“Aw, thanks. I like them. Perky, big, whatever. They’re all good.” Emily crawled back across the bed and onto the floor at Lauren’s feet, smiling broadly. She pulled Lauren toward her until her knees and feet hung off the mattress. Suddenly she was untying Lauren’s shoes and removing them, then her socks. It felt so good to be barefoot, so cool. Lauren flexed her toes appreciatively.
But what about what was coming next? Lauren was still scarcely able to move, and now she wore only her running shorts. Nothing else. This woman, this statuesque, friendly blonde that she had barely met, was stripping her, and there was nothing Lauren could do about it.
And of course, the customary and predictable fire within her grew, but that must remain her secret. “Okay, let’s get these off.”
It was like being with a nurse, Lauren convinced herself. Don’t freak out about it. Emily positioned herself between Lauren’s legs, and grasped the waistband of her Lycra running shorts, which did not require underwear and were thus her last bastion of modesty. Working them down, Emily pulled them down to the swell of Lauren’s petite rump, then wriggled them over it and down onto her thighs. She crouched between Lauren’s legs to work them down past her knees and off her feet.
It did feel good to have the sweaty clothes off of her. Raising her head as far as possible, she looked down her body at Emily, still crouched down around mattress level. Was Emily staring at her now-exposed crotch?
“Now, doesn’t that feel better already? Your clothes get so sticky.” Emily stood up, still standing between Lauren’s legs, and inspected Lauren’s slender dancer body up and down. “My god, you’re beautiful, did you know that? I know a lot of guys who would kill to get a good look at you like this.”
She was so friendly, so disarming, that Lauren smiled wearily, despite a wary recognition that the outside of Emily’s knees were pressing against the inside of her own, spreading them ever so slightly beyond their natural inclination.
“Hang on, and I’ll go get the shower running.” Emily disappeared into the bathroom, and Lauren heard the water turn on. She had a couple of minutes before the blonde would return.
It had to be the endorphins. Something about running kicked in her reproductive desires. If she was alone and not inches from collapse, she would be playing herself like a violin. She was heated up, lubricating, all ready to go. But her arms were so heavy…
And not now anyway. She couldn’t. She couldn’t physically do it at this point of exhaustion, no matter how much she wanted to, and she certainly couldn’t do it in two minutes with a stranger about to walk in. It was bad enough that she was lying here stark naked in front of the woman.
But maybe a quick touch. Her arms were still stretched above her head where Emily had left them. With great effort she began pulling them down ever so slowly, down to her shoulders, down to her waist…
Emily walked back in. Lauren’s pussy clenched in frustration
“Okay, darling, it’s all set. It’s a nice cool temperature. Not cold, but cool. It’ll make you feel so much better.”
Emily moved back between Lauren’s knees, her toned legs once again forcing Lauren’s slender legs apart. She bent over, grasped Lauren’s arms, and started to lift her, then immediately let go.
“Oh, wait,” she said. “I’m going to get wet, too. Hang on a second. I don’t have a change of clothes.”
She pulled her t-shirt over her head, then quickly removed her bra. Stationed between Lauren’s legs, she gave Lauren a full-on show that could not be avoided. Her breasts bounced into view as the bra came off, and they were spectacular — large but not too large, buoyant yet natural, and capped with coral pink areolae that could be in Playboy. They were at least two inches in diameter, and Lauren could imagine men drooling over them. She liked her own pert dark areolae, but at the same time she envied women with big pink ones.
Off came Emily’s shorts, but Lauren thankfully didn’t have a view of that given the angles. Nonetheless, she was acutely aware that this woman — this friendly, beautiful woman — was now nude in her hotel room. That they were both nude.
“Upsy-daisy.” Emily grabbed Lauren’s arms and pulled her up with an easy strength. Lauren stood unsteadily, and was stabilized by a bear hug, those large perfect breasts enveloping her own smaller orbs. Emily smelled sweet, and Lauren was embarrassed at her own sweaty aroma.
“Oh!” She was startled when she felt Emily’s hand on her ass, squeezing and gripping. The other hand held her close around the waist, pressing her into the larger woman.
But Emily’s demeanor was all business. “Let’s get you into the shower.” Like two dance partners, Emily led, carrying Lauren into the bathroom, lifting her in part by the derriere, while Lauren’s legs weakly backpedaled in support.
The next ten minutes were surreal, a clinic in seduction, or in caring, or in … something in between. What was it? Lauren was a rag doll in Emily’s control, being held up with one hand and caressed with the other under the regenerative spray of the water. Soft, soapy hands ran up and down her back. They gently stroked and squeezed her buttocks. They ran up and down her hips and waist. And all the while, the fire built within her to an inferno level.
She was afraid to look into the taller woman’s eyes. She was weak. She was vulnerable. She couldn’t resist anything that was being done to her. Or was something being done? Everything was so sensual, yet so innocent. She was confused. Was Emily seducing her, or was Emily a kindhearted and naive person who was unaware of the reaction she was causing? Was she feeling pleasure purely from her own state of mind, or was Emily stoking it with her touches?
“Okay, let’s turn you around and do your front,” Emily said. “I’m going to sit you down.”
Lowering Lauren to a sitting position facing the shower head, Emily sat behind her and wrapped her legs around Lauren’s waist. She pulled herself in close so that she was spooning the brunette. Lauren again went limp in the stronger woman’s care.
Emily washed Lauren’s hair, gently shampooing and rinsing it with the skill of a stylist, albeit one whose slick, wet d-cup breasts and hard nipples were massaging her back. Then she started again with the soap, gently cleansing and caressing Lauren’s forehead, face, throat, neck, shoulders, and … ohhh.
No one had played with her breasts since the divorce. Was Emily just cleaning them? Or was she…was she…Lauren didn’t care any more. Whatever was happening, she loved it. It was so pleasurable, so gentle, so sensual that it didn’t matter if it was intended or not. She loved the feeling of being enveloped by the larger woman. Slender hands ran over her small breasts, cupping them and sliding over them, the fingers catching on and gently flicking her nipples. Just when she resigned herself to enjoying it, they moved down further, doing the same to her stomach and waist. This woman was exasperating! Lauren was almost thankful that she didn’t have the energy to reach between her legs.
“I bet you’re limber,” Emily said into her ear. I’m going to do your feet from here. Let’s try.” Grasping Lauren’s right thigh, she pulled it up toward her chest, giving her access for a quick, gentle scrub of Lauren’s foot, which she then repeated with the left leg.
“Okay, I’m going in,” Emily said, practically whispering. “Good hygiene, you know. Gotta do everything.” Grapevining Lauren’s legs, Emily spread them further apart, and suddenly the soapy hands were sliding down her stomach, over her bare pubic mound. Emily’s soapy hands were cupping her vulva, rubbing, stroking, sliding along her ridges and seams.
Lauren’s back arched. Even in her exhausted state, she had to react. It was exquisite. She let out a soft moan, almost a squeak. She had almost forgotten how good it was to be touched there by someone else.
Emily giggled. “Don’t mind me,” she said, her fingers working every corner, but not entering, and not quite touching Emily’s engorged clit. “I’m a professional. I have to say, though, I like how you’re shaved. I trim myself down a lot, but I haven’t had the courage to go all-out smooth. Do you like it?” When she said the word ‘smooth’, she drew the word out and ran her hand up the length of Lauren’s vulva and pubic mound.
Lauren was having trouble with the conversation. She was highly distracted to say the least. Emily was so casual about what was happening. “Unnh…yes. I like it. I…” What was Emily doing? She was doing everything but masturbating Lauren. Or was she? This woman was holding her labia, squeezing them gently, stroking her lips and the sensitive areas around them, and yet Lauren still wasn’t sure. She was inches from climaxing, yet wasn’t even sure that she was being seduced.
Lauren wasn’t a lesbian. She had no lesbian thoughts, or at least not beyond the normal fantasies that any woman had. She had been married. She didn’t seek a woman’s touch. But this was too much. At this moment, it wasn’t about what her ‘normal’ preferences were. She needed to cum, she needed the attention, and she couldn’t give it to herself. She wanted to beg Emily to finish her, as the hands slid up and down her, as she was enveloped inside the larger woman’s embrace, her legs forced apart amidst intertwined thighs. But … she … wasn’t … a … lesbian. She whimpered and tried to struggle. But was she trying to move the hands away, or trying to move them to her aching clit? Even she wasn’t sure.
With a final flourish, Emily palmed her mound, rubbing up and down several times, pubic mound to anus and back. Her soap-slicked hand provided enough friction to drive Lauren wild, but not enough to push her over the edge. Then the hands were back on her arms, giving her a final innocuous stroke there. “You’re not going to like what’s next,” Emily said, “but you’ll love it.”
Leaning forward, pushing Lauren temporarily into a jackknife, she turned off the hot water completely. Reaching under her arms, she put Lauren into a full nelson, stretched her backwards, and spread the smaller girl to take the full brunt of the shower flow. The water went cold, then icy. Emily giggled as Lauren shrieked, writhing with zero strength as her face, chest, breasts, and stomach took the icy blast.
“Aaaaaaaaaah,” Lauren struggled. Pleasure turned to pain which turned to pleasure again as her body cooled. Was she imagining things, or was Emily peeking over her shoulder? Lauren looked down at her nipples, which were rock hard and as long as she had ever seen them. They were practically missiles launching from her chest.
Emily turned the cold water off and the two women sat motionless for a moment. Lauren suspected that Emily was looking down at her rock-hard nubs, but not a word was said. Emily released Lauren’s arms at long last and reached up under them, pulling her to her feet. “Sorry about doing that, but the cold water is great for your condition.”
Once again, she held Lauren by the waist while she toweled both of them off. Then it was back to the bed, where she helped Lauren lie down, her knees again hanging off the edge. Once more, Emily surreptitiously forced Lauren’s knees apart.
“How about a nice foot and leg massage?” Emily offered. She knelt down, and Lauren felt a pair of warm, soft hands on her tortured and painful feet. She sighed in pleasure. The massage continued for several minutes on her feet and calves, then up to her knees.
When the hands reached her thighs, she was tingling. Summoning up her reserve strength, she lifted her head and looked down between the small hills of her breasts. Perfectly framed within them, Emily was massaging away, and independently staring straight into Lauren’s shaved vulva. It wasn’t even disguised. She looked up at Lauren and offered a knowing smile, holding her knees wide apart.
“I can help you if you want it,” Emily said in a husky whisper. “I can see what you need.”
Lauren’s mind reeled. She gritted her teeth. She … wasn’t … a … lesbian. She was practically gasping with desire, but she … wasn’t … a … lesbian.
Emily’s massaging hands moved above her knees, gently stroking the inside of Lauren’s lower thighs. Her fingers were electric on Lauren’s skin.
Biting her lip for a moment, she reluctantly yielded to her body’s needs. “Okay,” she said shyly, her voice barely audible.
“Oh, yummy.” The hands immediately moved up her thighs, stroking and touching. She sensed a body near her, and then…
A tongue, warm and moist and strong, ran directly across her clit.
“Unnnnnnnh!” Lauren’s eyes rolled up in her head, and her eyelids fluttered. The pleasure was incalcuble.
Emily’s face burrowed between her legs, licking and sucking and nuzzling. Strong hands pried her knees even further apart and held them fast.
Lauren again summoned the strength to raise her head and look down her body. Wedged between her spread legs, Emily was buried in her bare pussy, her tongue dancing in Lauren’s warm, wet cleft. Her blonde hair flowed and bounced as she worked her magic, and Lauren was riding the tiger, unable to dismount even if she wanted to.
Fingers began exploring, one inside her, then two. Emily knew how to find her g-spot, and began rubbing it. Another finger tentatively began probing further back, blazing a new trail.
Lauren rode her touch higher and higher. One thing about her post-run masturbation sessions was that they were long. For some reason she was always horny, but it always took a lot of work to get over the divine edge. It was no different here, but Emily’s technique was divine, and she was patient.
And persistent. Oh, was she persistent.
For the next several minutes the hotel room was quiet other than three noises: the hum of the air conditioner, the faint moist smack of kissing and licking wet flesh, and the soft and increasingly frantic moans of a woman being pleasured.
Trapped in the bondage of her own fatigue, the smaller woman lay still, but more and more her spent muscles began quivering, from her slender thighs to her taut, small stomach. Her back began to arch as the sensations in her clitoris became more and more intense. Her mind reeled at the thought of what was happening, at the thought of allowing a woman to do this to her, but her body didn’t care. It needed the reward that it had earned.
Two fingers curled inside her. Another probed expertly up behind. The blonde’s tongue lapped and curled and teased. Lauren rose to the edge and froze, like a water glass filled completely to the brim. She held the moment as long as she could, her breath stopped, every muscle frozen in time.
Then she exploded. Her hips bucked. Her torso spasmed. Her fists clutched the bedspread. Her legs tried to close, but held wide by her suitor they could not shield her from the intense sensations at their source. She squealed in victory and glory and surrender, and then begged for it to stop as the after-sensations grew too intense.
Emily’s glistening smile rose up between her legs. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” the blonde said to her panting prey. With her fingers and her tongue, she began tracing a path north, across Lauren’s pubic mound, up her belly, onto her breasts. Emily gently sucked each erect nipple, pushing her hip into Lauren’s vulva to keep up the sensation in that area. She kissed her way up Lauren’s collarbone, then her throat, and at long, long last, her lips. Her large pale breasts tenderly crushed Lauren’s own as the two shared a long, passionate kiss.
What was this? What was happening?
“Did you like it?” Emily asked dreamily.
Lauren couldn’t answer. She had used her final reserves of energy on the orgasm, and now she was spent. Completely and utterly spent. She licked her dry lips slowly, her small chest heaving.
“I liked it,” she rasped. She closed her eyes so that her sense of touch could remain heightened. It felt so good, inside and out.
“Excellent.” Emily bounced up and sat astraddle Lauren’s tiny waist, fiddling and tweaking with the smaller girl’s nipples. “Is it my turn now?”
The words didn’t register for a moment in Lauren’s exhausted mind. Her turn?
Lauren’s eyes shot open. Emily was repositioning. She was on top of Lauren, rotating, turning to face Lauren’s feet. Her knees were now astraddle Lauren’s shoulders, trapping the lithe runner’s arms up above her head. Emily’s pussy swung into view, well developed and pink, with large inner and outer lips. An inch-wide line of dark blonde hair ran up her pubic bone from her cleft. It was a beautiful pussy, classy and pink, and it was the first one she had ever seen.
And it was now descending toward Lauren’s face.
She would sort it all out later, process it, and figure out what it all meant. But for now, there was only one honorable thing to do. It was payback time for the woman who had come to her aid in so many ways. She licked her lips as the blonde’s hips settled onto her face, and began her work.