Raised By Wolves update

Monet told the girl that she’d go ask Kitty about mountain lions and left the cabin—a little walk down to the lake. In the stillness and isolation the night granted her, she smoked two cigarettes in a row. Savoring them while she had the opportunity. They might be her last for a long time.

She didn’t have any intention of disturbing Kitty for something so silly, no matter the lack of respect she held for Kitty’s time, but it would sound good to the frightened girl. She didn’t deserve to be scared just because she was too young to know better.

A faint sound cut deep into the still air… deep enough to reach Monet and her curiosity… and she wandered to Kitty and Betsy’s cabin. The sound she thought she’d heard was a low groan—the sound of a woman in sexual bliss. Even at her young age, Monet recognized the absence of pain or fear, and the presence of excitement.

Sneaking up to the cabin, she crept around its borders, peering carefully into the windows. The curtains were drawn on most of them, but one was open just enough for her to see what was happening inside. The light was dim—too dim for her to clearly make out what the shadows hid—but the sounds didn’t need light to get to her.

Hearing the moans and the soft whisper of voices, Monet was quickly able to tell that there was no male component to what she heard. It was the two girls fucking each other. The sudden intrusion of fact sent a thrill of tension and excitement to knot in Monet’s belly, tightening her senses until it hurt.

Her hand slipped down between her legs and she started to rub her crotch through her pajamas, seeing the two coupling shadows that she knew were Kitty and Betsy having sex. It wasn’t the first time Monet had witnessed such Sapphic movements. In Generation X, such things occurred almost nightly. She’d seen Jubilee with Paige, Jubilee with Penance, Jubilee with Gaia… and of course, she herself had made out with Jubilee just to see what all the fuss was about.

Still, watching the two counselors fog up the window she was watching them through, Monet felt herself tingling with a sexual need she’d never known before, even when she was the one being taken to bed.

She listened to the sounds of lovemaking, her ears straining until she felt like she was in the thick of it—a piece of anatomy being sucked, slurped, kissed, fondled. Monet could almost feel Kitty’s face between her own thighs, burrowing further and further into the sensitivity of their openness. In her breast there was a wild urge to rush through the cabin door and demand to join in, add her own naked flesh to the joy that Kitty and Betsy’s combination had already made.

They might not be able to refuse her—caught in the act and faced with the threat of exposure—but Monet was shrewd enough to see that she could do far better with this blackmail material than immediately gratify herself. She would get what she wanted with it, yes, but she’d get so much more than just satisfaction…

She’d been attracted to Kitty for a while—the kind of attraction that hinged on not being able to have Kitty, on others’ desire for her and the thought that she might possess her while others could not. It was brazen, Monet knew, but who cared? Any indulgence could be a delicious indulgence.

She’d openly displayed herself to Kitty in the shower, wanting to see just how her interest was returned, and she’d gotten a satisfyingly guilty look on Kitty’s face for it. And now, looking through the cabin window, it was obvious that her hopes were justified. Her plans felt so close to fruition that it seemed like she was about to undress and slip under the covers with Kitty that very moment!

Monet licked her lips almost in time to the sight of Kitty’s head roving back and forth between Betsy’s legs. Now, how to get her doing that to me? She looks like she really knows what she’s doing. If only she were doing it to someone whose cunt deserved such luxurious treatment…

Her hand pushed harder into her thin pajama bottoms, nearly rending them, pressing so close to the rippling need in her cunt that Monet felt the throbbing inner muscles as surely as if her fingers were inside her slit. It would’ve been scrumptious to do that very thing, finger herself while watching the two women fuck away at each other, but simply rubbing herself, wet fabric on the taut outer edges of her sex, was somehow better-suited to her bearing witness to what she saw.

She wanted to be part of it, but she wasn’t. Monet wouldn’t deluge herself into thinking she was. She’d luxuriate in being apart from them—not feeling what they were feeling, not tasting what they were tasting—until the time came when she entered their intimate little circle. And the newness of the sensation then would be all the more satisfying.

The prospect of complete and total abstinence at the summer camp had been a sobering one to Monet. It’d made her behave badly, which she regretted—not because it was unfair to those she slighted, but because it put her at a disadvantage. Having people think she was a bitch would make it harder for her to manipulate them. But there was still time to course-correct, especially now that she knew what Kitty was and what she did with Betsy.

Monet returned to her cabin before Betsy and Kitty finished their session, again denying herself, this time out of necessity. Once they weren’t so occupied by each other, there was a good chance of them noticing an interloper.

She lay in bed, the window by her bunk open, the sounds of nature at night a poor substitute for the whispered oaths and indulgent moans she’d heard Kitty and Betsy exchanging. How am I going to get through the night? Monet wondered to herself. She knew she would get to Kitty sooner or later, but she needed something now. Her body was at a fever pitch that wasn’t about to be fulfilled.

Monet rolled onto her side, facing the wall, not allowing any of the other girls in the cabin to see what she was doing. She slipped her hand down into her pajama bottoms until she felt the downy softness of her pubic hair. Her touch pressed through that fluff to her wickedly anticipating cunt. Monet’s legs twitched violently at her own touch, as if somehow her hand were completing an electric circuit, sending voltage into her sex from seemingly nowhere.

Slowly and carefully, Monet worked her fingers along the length of her ready slot. Her cunt lips trembled as the pads of her fingers rolled over them, up and down, then swelled in preparation for the contact of another woman’s wet tongue or warm fingers. Receiving the same treatment she had seen Kitty giving to Betsy oh-so-briefly in her voyeurism.

Monet felt like apologizing to her frustrated slit. She didn’t have a lover to give all its readiness to. Only the continued play of her own fingers. That was the best she could do tonight.

Closing her eyes, Monet summoned up the memory of Kitty and Betsy, letting its rhythm guide the motion her fingers made in and out of her wet pussy. The soft pelt that guarded her opening was almost dripping wet from how excited she had been then and how excited she was now.

Her fingers moved effortlessly into and out of her accepting folds, the ease of the motion almost sucking her touch into herself. With how instinctively she caressed her pussy, how unthinkingly it all happened, Monet could just about think that it was Kitty doing it to her. The idea made her autoerotic sensations all the more intense.

“Good Kitty,” she said to herself, under her breath, and giggled. How lovely it would be when she said that to the older woman for real.

In her mind’s eye she saw Kitty’s pretty, apple-cheeked face break into a naughtily aroused smile as she reached down to Monet’s womanhood. Monet jumped when she imagined the touch, like her fingers had suddenly become those of Kitty.

“Let me handle that, babe,” she imagined Kitty cooing in her honeyed, girlish voice, with the little rasp of arousal it’d had with Betsy. “I’m more experienced than you—I know how to make it really feel good.”

“Yes!” Monet mouthed the word enthusiastically. “Make it feel good! Do whatever you want—I’m all yours!”

Her hand picked up speed and the moan her contorted lips formed became audible, sounding out the increased friction of her fingertips stroking her inner walls. Pretending that it was Kitty touching her, Monet’s body gave itself over entirely to the pretended feelings. Her thighs closed around her masturbating hand, trapping the fingers lodged inside her, and her hips rocked slowly back and forth to fuck herself even more intently.

“It does feel good!” she whispered. “It’s so good, Kitty! I love having your fingers in my cunt… let me put mine in yours, please, please…”

“Monet?”

The actual sound of a woman’s voice hit Monet hard, overtaking her fantasy, twisting it out of all shape before it ended. She almost choked trying to stifle a cry of surprise, taking her hand out from between her legs and whirling around to answer Jubilee.

“What? Why are you sneaking up on me? Who said you could even speak to me?” she demanded, unable to keep her voice even, barely keeping it from a scream.

Even in the dimness, she saw Jubilee’s face blush with mortification at the rage she’d elicited. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you—I thought you were asleep or, not asleep, but lying awake—I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Didn’t mean to wake me? By screaming my name right in my ear? Interesting strategy,” Monet hissed. “What do you want, Jubilee?”

“I’m sorry,” Jubilee apologized again. “Wasn’t screaming… I thought if you were still awake, that since you came back from answering that girl’s dumb question, you could…” She trailed off under the force of Monet’s superior stare.

“I could what?”

Jubilee gulped and dropped her gaze from Monet’s resentful face. “I shouldn’t have bothered you—“

She began to turn around.

Monet slid across her mattress to grab Jubilee’s arm before she could get away. “If you’re going to wake me up, the least you could do is tell me why,” she snarled, faintly, trying to inch back to the controlled poise with which she liked to present herself despite how aggravated she felt.

“It seems dumb now…”

“Of course it does, it’s something you came up with. I still have the right to know.”

Jubilee’s face blazed with embarrassment and her jaw twitched. Monet knew the look. She wanted to wipe the smug look off of Monet’s face, but she knew she couldn’t. Not when she’d set her off in the first place.

The Asian girl fussed with her hands. “I need to use the toilet,” she said quietly.

“And you need someone who knows how it works?” Monet cooed.

“No, I just thought you might like to come with me—the buddy system—right?”

“Right?” Monet repeated mockingly.

“It’s dark out there,” Jubilee insisted. “I don’t even know the way, really, and since you were probably still up—I guess I thought it was worth it, getting the treatment from you, if it meant I didn’t end up getting lost or eaten by a bear or anything. But now I see I’d have better luck with the bear!”

“Hold on a minute,” Monet said, getting up. “I wouldn’t wish that on the bear.”

Jubilee goggled at Monet actually accepting her request—but Monet thought it was something else she was surprised by, something else she was wondering at.

After all, there were other reasons to ask another girl to go to the toilet. She’d done it herself, a few times, albeit with far more confidence than Jubilee had shown. And if Jubilee was literally asking for it, well… hadn’t Monet just been wishing she had something better than her own hand to play with?