Just How She Likes It

They sat on the bed, Kasey bouncing a little as she talked, like the air had changed since Candice walked back through the door. Been bored stiff with just mom and her dull stepdad to kick around with, she said. Candice asked what was new around here anyway. Kasey glanced down, said she was seeing someone, then pulled the pin: she meant seeing a woman, and that woman was Jenny. Candice’s old Jenny. Candice took the shock in stride, smiled, told her she was happy—truly happy—for both of them. The relief hit Kasey like a rush of warm air. They laughed, remembering Jenny’s endless need for attention, her habit of melting under the right hands. Kasey admitted she didn’t know how to give a proper massage, begged for a lesson. Candice smirked, laid her sister back, ran her palms down Kasey’s bare thighs, showing where Jenny liked the slow knead, the deep, languid circles. Then her smile turned wicked. Said Jenny liked one more trick—one you couldn’t exactly demonstrate without tasting skin. Kasey whispered she wanted Jenny to feel that good again, wanted to feel it herself. Candice peeled her open, leaned in, tongue sliding hot and certain, working the slick heat between her sister’s legs exactly the way Jenny used to come apart for it.