Abby.

Her lips.

I can't stop thinking about her lips no matter how small the contact was. I can still feel her breath on my face, a mixture of wine and another fruity touch to it.

I could go back in there and finish what we started, but it's not right for several reasons. One, she is married; two, I don't think she is into women. If she were, she wouldn't have asked me to leave, right?

Like, I've always known that I liked women more than I liked men, and coming out to my family in my teenage years wasn't so complicated.
I did, though sugar, coat it a little and confessed that I liked boys too, and at the time, I think I did because a few years later, I had a baby Daddy.

The stupid bastard made me realize I  did not like men because he disappeared at the mention of pregnancy. Morgan still owes me and I will make him pay for what he did and did not do to me.

The evening breeze slides on my skin, tingling and reminding me to breathe again. I can feel my heart rate slowing down. I make it to the house but still, I keep wondering what would happen if I went back to Simone's house. I could ask her to kiss me, I could let her touch me in places that surprisingly ache for her touch. But I'm better than that, I'm not just a tool that is going to let Simone use to get it out of her system.

That's not me. And as much as I would like to get laid, she isn't the ideal candidate. Imagine how weird the aftermath would be. She is friends with my sister, for crying out loud; why the hell would I want to fuck that up?

When I get to the house, Beth is watching some show on TV and I join her.

She asks, "What took you so long?"  

“I was just outside,” I lie. “It's nice here at night.”

+++

I don't know why I keep turning and tossing in bed. I clearly can't sleep, so I do what I promised Simone I would not do: I peek out her window. To my surprise, the curtains are pulled back so I can see half the portion of her room.

I should stop, I know, I should rest, lose this urge, and look away, and I'm right about to do that when I see a leg. A very naked thick thighed leg.

But the rest of her body is hidden from me. With something I haven't felt in a while, I watch as the woman brushes her fingers over her leg. I want to look away, but my eyes won't let me.

A moment passes before I notice movement again---she is shaking so vigorously that I don't need to see the whole thing to understand what's going on.

Simone is masturbating.

It's a normal stress relief thing to do but my mind runs wild. What could have led to that? Was it the near kiss?

I'm stuck wondering, hoping that if I occupy my mind with this, I won't try to imagine her full body. Naked. All shiny, smooth, dark skin and beautiful long fingers slowly touching where she likes it more.

I shake my head, heaving breath as I return to my bed. The twins are still with Beth and I remember her promising to get them beds.

I put my head on my pillow but I can't ignore the feeling between my legs. Am I actually wet?

No way!

And for Simone? The married woman next door? Such a non-starter. But my body doesn't seem to think so.

I try my hardest to sleep but I end up tossing and turning, wishing I had carried my magic wand. In my defense though, I did not know that I would encounter beautiful women with marriage issues who turn me on for some reason.

On any other day, Simone, despite her beauty and maturity, isn't my type. I'm more into people who know what it's like to live in the moment, people who want to do things because they're enjoying them right now and are not worried about consequences.

Simone is too careful. Yet I find myself unable to cut the memory of her dark thighs out of my head.

“Just a quick one,” I mumble to myself as I reach under my pajama pants and run a finger over my panties. They're so drenched and I need more than just a finger.

My mind won't function if I don't get off, so I crawl out of bed and make it to Beth's room.

“Hey,” I whisper, patting her slowly on the arm.

“What.” She groans.

“Do you uh..do you have a wand?”

“A what!”

“Shhh. Like a vibrator or something,” I whisper.

“Why the fuck do you want it?” she asks.

“Beth, it's midnight, and I'm looking for a vibrator, do the math,” I grumble.

Slowly, realization finds my sister's face and she laughs. “You need dick that bad?”

“Not just dick,” I whisper, fixing her with a glare. “So, do you have it?”

“Check my closet. I haven't used it in a while so the batteries might be dead and clean it bef---"

I rush to her closet and check through.

When I find it I walk away silently and clean the head that vibrates before settling under the covers. I hope the sounds won't be too loud.

I'm halfway through the sensation and almost to the toe-curling part, Simone's half-body serving as motivation.

But the worst thing happens; right when I'm about to orgasm, the machine stops.

“What the fuck?” I breathe hitting it like an old TV remote. But it refuses to come back.

My time says it's one in the morning and my eyelids are heavy from horniness and wine.

I don't know how I drift off to sleep but the first thing I will do when I wake up is look for new batteries and finish what I started.

++++

Any other victim of dead batteries during the act?? Lol. Sorry, safe space!