No More Wasted Time: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

Becca made Krissy roll over to take a few sips of water and then placed the bottle on the nightstand where Krissy could reach it easily if she wanted it. She then kissed Krissy’s forehead and covered her with the bedsheets. Krissy was fast asleep.

Though she was hyper-aroused and would probably explode in orgasm if she so much as crossed her legs, Becca didn’t mind that Krissy had dropped off into slumber. She had gotten what she wanted and the fact that Krissy had essentially passed out afterwards made Becca even happier. There was that sense of power again. In any case, the idea of having given Krissy that much pleasure was good enough for Becca now. The still-caged orgasm in her core could wait. Besides, she wanted Krissy to unleash it for her.

Nonetheless, she needed to clean herself up. In the bathroom, she peeled off her soaked panties, amazed but also not amazed at how much of her arousal the crotch of them was showing. She cleaned herself with a warm cloth, concentrating hard on not giving in to temptation by just pressing the deliciously warm fabric firmly against her pussy to make herself come, studiously avoiding her clit as she wiped gently. She really wanted to save this one for Krissy.

It was a battle, one that forced her to take several deep breaths in order to keep control of herself. Once it was done, she took the washcloth and her panties out of the bathroom with her, picked up the cushion she had been sitting on—now stained with the arousal her underwear couldn’t contain—and took all three of them to her laundry room, dumping them in the washing machine. She would start them washing tomorrow morning.

Back in the bedroom, she put on clean underwear and pj shorts. It was a little warm tonight and so she took off the tee she was wearing and got into bed topless.

Krissy didn’t stir at all.

Giving her girlfriend another kiss on the forehead, Becca whispered for Alexa to turn off the bedroom lights and then settled down for sleep, feeling as if she was the happiest woman on Earth.

Chapter 28

In her home office the next day, Krissy was finding it hard to concentrate.

Last night had been…

Her clit twitched even as her mind tried to come up with just the right word.

Amazing was overused. Surely, she had a better vocabulary than that.

Great didn’t even begin to come close. That was a child’s word.

Incredible was too pedestrian.

Her clit pulsed again, stronger this time, when she finally nailed it.

Astounding!

Last night had been astounding.

Even though she had known she wasn’t helpless, that Becca would untie her at a moment’s notice if need be, Krissy had liked believing she was helpless last night—at the mercy of this woman who had somehow captured her and was using her to sate her desires. Such thinking had fed all of those orgasms to one degree or another, giving the experience of last night an additional layer of depth—letting her mind dance along the edge of darkness and fantasy.

Another pulse between her legs. She was supposed to be reviewing the compliance reports her new assistant, Janet, had prepared, to make sure Janet had done them correctly, not replaying last night in her mind, enjoying the tiny tremors shaking her clit as she did so.

But…

Last night had never happened to her before!

No toys…not a single one. No fingers, even…Becca had not inserted a single digit inside her to give her that feeling of penetration or to t

ickle her g-spot.

Becca had only used her mouth for the entire duration. That glorious sexual experience had been made possible with only Becca’s lips and tongue.

“Oh my god…” Krissy couldn’t help uttering even now.

Using only her lips and tongue, Becca had so expertly given Krissy a night that was a torture of the highest pleasure. Sometimes, Becca allowed the orgasms to overlap each other, making Krissy come back-to-back—and in one instance Krissy remembered with crystal-sharp clarity, back-to-back-to-back. That time, she remembered the fingers of her hands, which were tied to her sides, splaying open like she was doing jazz hands as orgasmic electricity shocked her three times—boom-boom-BOOM!—making her scream so loudly at the intensity of that sequence, and at her helplessness, that she was worried Becca’s neighbors would call the cops.

Other times, Becca cruelly—but deliciously—made Krissy wait for her next release. Her vagina would be probed by Becca’s tongue, her folds would be kissed and licked, her clit would be sucked—but only just enough to keep her from falling off the cliff. Instead, Becca would get her to the point of begging or demanding. Krissy remembered even calling her a bitch—and then shortly thereafter, a fucking bitch—as her orgasms kept being denied, only to finally let her explode with climaxes so strong, Krissy began seeing colors she didn’t know existed.

Krissy had wanted it to never end; but her body betrayed her, eventually forcing her to put a stop to it so she could go pee.

Part of her now was upset with herself. Not for needing to end last night’s orgy of oral delight, but for how, after peeing, she had stumbled back into the bedroom on legs that felt rubbery, collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep quickly.

She recalled trying to fight it, to find the strength to remain awake. Krissy Kincaid does not leave women unsatisfied. But it had been hopeless. Whatever part of the brain is in charge of consciousness had simply put a Closed sign on the front door and gone home.