A Show Of Faith

Brandi's already undoing the top buttons of her blouse when Tara knocks on the bedroom door, cheeks red from fever and secrets she's held too tight. Tara's not just sick, she's got something burning under her skin that religion and straight A's can't put out. She tells Brandi the truth between shaky breaths—dreams about girls, bodies moving under sheets, no way to say it at Bible study. Brandi doesn't flinch. She steps close, puts one hand on Tara's face, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. "Show me what you've been dreaming about," she says, voice low, and pulls Tara onto the bed before the girl can think twice. Brandi's fingers slip inside the open collar of Tara's pajama top, tracing the soft rise of new breasts, taking each nipple between her fingers and squeezing until Tara arches, breath catching. Brandi spreads Tara's legs with her knee, slides her hand down, pushes inside slowly, one finger, then two, knuckle-deep, grinding her thumb against Tara's clit until the sheets are slick and Tara's hips are chasing every stroke. Brandi keeps her voice steady, whispering that it feels good to finally let it out, telling Tara to open her thighs wider, to grind against her palm, to feel every inch her body can take. She leans down, takes Tara's nipple in her mouth, sucks hard while her fingers curl up and find the spot that makes Tara cry out, coming with a shudder Brandi doesn't let fade. When Tara's still shaking, Brandi climbs over her, presses her cunt against Tara's thigh, grinds hard and wet, shows her how to move, how to own what she wants, until both of them are wrecked and Brandi says, "Next time you dream it, remember this."