Page 59 of Semantics
Stella had been licking her for the past seven minutes. Violet knew that because of the clock on the TV’s cable box. She wasn’t sure why Stella still even had a cable box that had a clock on it in her room, but it was staring back at her with blue numbers, and after prolonging her pleasure for that long, she couldn’t take any more of it. She needed Stella to make her come.
When she had arrived, Violet had walked through the front door of Stella’s house, headed straight back to the bedroom, and while still wearing her skirt with nothing on underneath it, she climbed atop the dildo that was standing at attention for her and lowered herself over it.
She’d come a few minutes later to the sounds of Stella’s own orgasm, and they had done that again before Stella had taken it off and had moved between Violet’s legs, where she was currently making her come a third time. Violet had lost count of the number of orgasms she’d had in the past seventy-two hours, but it was definitely a record. Even when she’d first discovered masturbation and had touched herself repeatedly every day for a while, it did not compare to how many times Stella Ross, of all people, had made her come.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a break,” Stella told her, moving back up Violet’s body. “Want some water or something?”
“Water would be great, yeah.”
“Want to come with me? You can stay naked. I have ice cream in the freezer, and I’m willing to share.”
Stella kissed Violet’s neck before she climbed off her.
“That depends. What flavor is it?”
“Mint chocolate chip. My favorite. What’s yours?”
Violet swallowed because favorite things were a topic people who were dating talked about, not people who were just having sex. Great sex, but still only sex.
“I could go for some mint chocolate chip,” she replied instead.
Stella nodded, seemingly okay letting that go, and when she stood, she pulled Violet up with her.
“When we come back, want me to wear it again and put you on your hands and knees?”
“Maybe,” she said with a coy smile. “Depends on how good that mint chocolate chip ice cream is.”
“It’s from Davy’s Homemade,” Stella told her.
“Davy’s?” she said of the local creamery that still made their ice creams in small batches by hand, or as much as the process could be done by hand.
“Yeah. Why?”
“That’s the best ice cream in the world.”
“I know. Stay naked. Come on,” Stella said and patted her on the ass, which made Violet laugh as they headed out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen she hadn’t yet seen.
“It’s nice,” she noted.
“It’s a pretty standard kitchen. Nothing fancy. I like it enough. And I haven’t seen yours to give you a compliment about it, but maybe next time.”
“I like how you just assume there will be a next time.”
Violet leaned back against the kitchen island.
“Oh, there will be a next time,” Stella said. “Sit.”
“Where?”
“On the counter.”
“I’m naked, Stella.”
“I’ll clean it tomorrow, Violet. Just sit your cute little ass on the island. I’ll get the ice cream, and we’ll eat it up there.”
“I have never sat on a counter naked.”
“Too good for it?” Stella asked as she moved into her and pressed her thigh to Violet’s center. “If you do this, after we eat, I’ll take care of you again.” She pointed to the counter. “Right there.”
