The Widow's Ways update

Tilda knew what was happening. The swollen, throbbing feeling in her cunt, making her overly sensitive, her wet labia detailing every stitch of the panties that seemed to grind against it. Ever since her fight with the Widow, she’d been like this—her nipples angrily hard, her sex burning, her lips pinching together without something to fill them. It was lust, but not the sweetly frightening kind she’d shared with Odessa. This was sick, depraved. A disgusting weed growing through the soil of her, and she needed to clear it out with the pure, clean fire of her love for Odessa. 

She found Odessa in their shared room, just starting to dress. She had not yet clothed herself above the waist and Tilda felt a pang of desire for her, good desire, true desire, not like the sickening heat she’d felt when Minerva infected her with this sickness.

Odessa saw Tilda’s flushed face, her rapid breath, and was softly concerned. She’d been around enough bloodshed to know that Tilda wasn’t injured, but she knew Tilda well enough to know this wasn’t her. Not the Tilda she’d grown to love, at any rate.

“Tilda? What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping up to Tilda, putting a hand on your forehead. “Are you feverish?”

Tilda slapped her hand away. Then she reached for the snap of Odessa’s trousers, the back of her hands brushing against Odessa’s belly as she undid the button and drew down the zipper. Odessa’s panties were exposed, showing the feminine outline of her pubic mound. Tilda’s eyes shone to look at them. She pushed Odessa down to sit on the edge of the bed and Odessa bent to take her boots off.

“I’ll get them,” Tilda volunteered, kneeling down to tug them off, then Odessa’s socks, then her pants. The trousers were tight, having to be peeled down Odessa’s hips, and Odessa helped by squirming her way out of them, her breasts jiggling with the motion. Tilda smiled as she watched them bounce. This was what she wanted. Not Minerva. This.

She rolled Odessa’s trousers off her creamy thighs and tugged them off her feet. Tilda sat only in her panties, thin ones, a vision of hipbones and flat stomach and long legs. The panties were barely a handkerchief of material, stretching across her mound and the bottom of her ass and nothing else. But Tilda didn’t take them off. She stood, reaching between Odessa’s thighs, rubbing her through her panties just like she needed. 

Odessa moaned in soft need as Tilda massaged the sheer, sleek fabric into her pussy lips, making her moist, hot, open. Tilda reached down the front of her panties and into her sex, fingers fondling the narrow slit, the thin, delicate labia, the stingingly hard clitoris that crowned the whole affair. Odessa quivered as she felt Tilda’s lust in every touch.

“Strip,” Odessa urged. “I want to see you too.”

“You will,” Tilda promised, undoing her belt. “Only you. Nobody else, this is only for you…”

She stripped off her outer garments. Underneath she wore a full-length slip, her breasts fitted into lace cups, elaborately embroidered, held up by strands of thin gossamer. The rest of the gown was clinging white satin, all the way down to mid-thigh, where the hem was ruffled white lace.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful,” Odessa breathed.

“It’s for you,” Tilda said. “All of this is for you.” 

Smiling joyously—why shouldn’t she be joyous when she got to share this with her girlfriend, the love of her life?—Tilda slipped one shoulder strap off. The other followed it. Then she peeled down the cups that hid her breasts. Odessa’s eyes widened as she saw Tilda’s breasts once more, her lips parted, her breath starting to come in gasps. The slip fell down around Tilda’s waist, where her wide hips held it in place. Tilda’s breasts shook as she tugged it down, and Odessa was just as enthralled with their movements as Tilda had been with her own.

Tilda was naked under the slip. Her pubic hair was jet black, somehow as vivid as her piercing blue eyes, sleek shiny fur befitting her beautifully formed sex, with all its intricate folds quivering in needful lust. Tilda went to Odessa and they embraced, as they had a hundred times before—for a moment, their nakedness changed nothing, and they were just friends in each other’s arms. Then lust reared its head. 

Odessa’s naked flesh sparked where Tilda’s skin was warm and soft against it. Tilda’s breasts burned where they nuzzled against Odessa’s. She pressed her hips against Odessa’s, feeling the hairs of her cunt rub against her own pubic hair, the strange sensation tingling and light. Her sex flamed as it touched Odessa’s labia and they kissed, both sets of lips melting together. 

Tilda’s hands roamed all over Odessa, stroking her sides, her thighs, the lush ass. The kiss only broke when they fell onto the bed and Tilda crawled to the middle of the mattress, dragging Odessa with her as if the rest of the world were a deep ocean and the bed was an island of dry land for them.

Tilda’s swelling breasts dangled enticingly under her as she pulled back the blankets of the carefully made bed, then perched her naked body on the virginal white bottom sheet, as silky smooth as her own skin, as Odessa’s. Odessa climbed onto the head of the bed as well, her knees disturbing the carefully arranged pillows. 

Tilda pulled the covers over them both. Odessa stretched out on her back, Tilda on her side, facing her. She ran her hand over Odessa’s trembling breasts, not missing the sight of them when she could see Odessa’s pleasured face, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parting in little half-formed sounds of need. Tilda’s fingers rolled Odessa’s nipples into stiffness, tweaking and teasing them until they felt like they would burst, and Odessa tilted her head to the side to rest it against Tilda’s breasts.

“You take such good care of me,” she sighed.

“Thank you for letting me,” Tilda murmured. She cupped her breast in her hand, offering the swollen nipple to Odessa’s lips. “Suck my tit, Minerva. Make me feel good…”

Odessa opened her mouth, her lips so close to Tilda’s nipple that the girl could feel the racing blood in them, and then Odessa stopped. Looked up at Tilda.

“Minerva?”