Pleeease Show Me!

Rachael’s mouth is on Aiden’s neck when the front door crashes open. Both women freeze, lips swollen, hands still grabbing each other’s asses. In a tank top and cotton shorts, Lily storms through the bedroom doorway looking wrecked. “They called me a fucking prude,” she blurts. “All my friends. I left.” The candles flicker. Lily clocks the rose petals, the half-empty wine, the two women tangled in silk robes. It still doesn’t register. Rachael lets out a slow breath, swaps a look with Aiden. Time to stop sheltering her. They sit her down, try to speak gently. Words like clit, cock, wet, fuck spill into the air for the first time. Lily’s eyes widen, then sharpen. “Wait,” she says, “you two were about to do that just now.” Silence answers her. She chews her lip, studying the bed. Then, flat-out: “Show me. Please. So I don’t sound stupid again.” Rachael’s throat works. Aiden’s fingers tighten on her wrist. They should say no. Instead they peel the robes off. Lily watches, breathing fast, while they kiss harder this time—open mouths, tongues, teeth dragging bottom lips. Rachael slides her hand between Aiden’s legs; two fingers sink in with a slick sound that carries in the quiet room. Lily leans forward like she’s pulled on a string. Minutes later she’s on her knees by the mattress, whispering, “Can I try?” They glance at each other, then pull her up. Clothes drop to the floor in soft heaps. Rachael’s tongue finds Lily’s nipple while Aiden’s fingers part her thighs, sliding between swollen folds to show her what pressure feels like. Lily’s head tips back, a shaky moan cutting loose. Hands roam. Mouths trade places. Legs tangle. The lesson turns into sweat and gasps and bodies rolling together until every question Lily ever had is answered in heat and skin and shaking thighs.