Raised By Wolves update

“Okay,” the girl said, nodding her head anxiously, keeping a close eye on Kitty for reassurance. 

It was almost eerie, the way she eyed her, but Kitty was used to the stares. Older Sisters tended to get latched onto.

They moved to the cabin, where Monet instantly complained: “You expect us to shower here?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Kitty demanded.

“Just look at it! There’s no privacy to be had!”

She was technically right. Six spray nozzles had been set up over wooden slats, so that a dozen girls could shower at the same time. The water would drain out of the cabin and into a ditch that’d been dug to lead it away from camp to a downhill slope, where gravity would take care of the rest.

“At the camp I was at last year, they had stalls, curtains, not to mention sandals you could put on—“

“What’s the matter, Monet?” Kitty challenged. “Have you got something to hide?”

Monet sputtered, cut off in midstream. “No! Of course not! Anyone can see my body is flawless!”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

Monet sputtered even more, on the verge of apoplexy. Kitty’s obtuseness seemed to personally offend her. “It—it—it’s just so primitive, isn’t it?”

“There’s running water. I can think of plenty of people that would love to be that primitive. Now how about getting undressed like the other girls and cleaning yourself up for bed?”

“I’m not dirty,” Monet insisted shrilly. “I bathed just this morning.

“Good, then you’ll only need a quick rinse now.”

With a heavy sigh, Monet began to unbutton her blouse. Kitty sat outside, on a stool by the door, watching the shed clothes accumulate in the laundry hamper inside the cabin. She could see it from her vantage point outside the door, but not the girls. Not Jubilee.

The sound of running water beating down on lithe, smooth bodies stoked her hunger to a feverish pitch. She was looking forward to making love to Betsy that night, now that their work had brought them back together. It had been weeks since they’d been able to spend any real time together, but the feel of their last fuck was still fresh in Kitty’s mind. 

She could remember the fruity sweetness of Betsy’s skin against her mouth as she kissed her all over. Her fingers itched for the feel of Betsy’s sleek flesh, the taste and feel of Betsy’s pubic hair, which Kitty could tell herself was like any other woman’s thatch, but which seemed so exotic with its purple coloring. 

Betsy was a passionate lover, answering every demand Kitty made of her in a way that had Kitty asking for more and more. When they were together again, there wasn’t a doubt in Kitty’s mind that their lovemaking would be worth the wait. She was sure that Betsy was as ready to resume their love affair as she was.

“Let’s hurry it up in there,” Kitty called, checking her watch. “There’ll be another group by to use the showers in a few. Let’s not hold them up.”

“If only you could’ve lectured us a little less, then we could’ve had a nice long shower.”

“You know what, Monet?” Kitty began, instinctively turning to look at the girl. When she did, she forgot what she was going to say, instead feeling a tingle race through her body, pull at her stomach. Monet certainly didn’t have anything to hide. Her body was actually perfect enough to justify her smugness.

Kitty’s eyes rolled over Monet’s body as avidly as the water cascading over it. Monet St. Croix was turned partly away from her, facing the showerhead on the wall, and her profile was amazing. Her breasts were high and proud, modestly sized, but plump enough to fit her unabashed narcissism, as was her pert ass, its cheeks lushly swelling from her back to the firmness of her thighs.

She’s certainly growing up quick, Kitty thought, her sudden attraction to the girl both surprising her and disgusting her a little. Monet would love to know of Kitty’s newfound interest in her. Still, she’s a snotty little thing. Not my type at all, even if she does need a spanking…

As though sensing Kitty’s eyes on her, Monet turned to face her observer, showing now the neatly shaven thatch of her hair between her legs, a pool of darkness among the vast expanse of creamy brown that was her skin. Kitty gulped, imagining the softness that hair would offer as she nuzzled her mouth against Monet’s sex, slid her tongue into the warmth her cinnamon-colored lips hid.

I wonder what she tastes like, Kitty found herself thinking, only to see a quick flash of realization pass over Monet’s face. Was the girl psychic? Had she somehow picked up what Kitty was thinking? If she really was as worldly and sophisticated as she made herself out to be, she could have experience with lesbianism—know the look that Kitty had given her was not innocent at all. 

What’s running through that jaded mind of hers? Does she know about me and Laura? Me and Betsy? Or does she just suspect? Will she be looking for proof—will I have to watch her? 

The look on Monet’s face offered no answers to her questions, but Kitty’s gut feeling was that Monet didn’t know anything and had no suspicions. Maybe if she were a lesbian herself, she’d pick up on Kitty’s interest, but otherwise, Kitty came off much the same as any other woman, just like the lovers she’d taken. No one would accuse Betsy Braddock of being butch, or Laura Kinney of being masculine. The only thing to set them apart from other women was the hungry seeking in their eyes, directed at attractive women. Just as with men, they would eye a prospective mate, meet their eyes, and that intense stare would not just look for longing, but project it out to them to see if they were interested.

Kitty was lucky. Lots of women were interested. In the summer, with the heat what it was, she’d cut her hair short, though not boyish. It was more of a sleek bob framing her face, showcasing her adorable beauty, its girlish sweetness. Did Monet find that attractive? Or was she baiting her—trying to seduce Kitty with that brazen display of her body? That seemed like what Monet was attempting, turning and twisting under the flow of water, showing Kitty her naked flesh from every angle.

Or maybe that’s just how she takes a shower—she isn’t the type to leave one inch of that perfect skin unwashed, Kitty told herself, forcing her eyes off of the show. Either way, I’m not making a move for you, sweetheart—not before I’ve given Betsy and Laura a crack at satisfying my urges.

Then, as if her subconscious was giving a silent rejoinder to those words, her eyes chanced upon Jubilation Lee. The sexual attraction she’d felt for Jubilee knotted inside her suddenly, almost painfully, pulsing inside her as she stared at Jubilee’s nubile little body. She too was turned to face Kitty, but she seemed entirely unaware of the fact, oblivious to how Kitty saw her nudity. She rubbed her bar of soap over her legs, bringing up a handful of soap suds before washing them into her sex. She did it quite innocently, yet Kitty couldn’t help but imagine the feelings that could arise, if only she showed Jubilee what to do.

It was that virginal quality about Jubilee that made her so irresistible. There was something so young and ripe about her, pristine and untouched, that told Kitty she would be the first to discover Jubilee’s secrets. That she could be the first to induct Jubilee into being a woman, teach her about the pleasures of sex, and tinge all her future relationships with the knowledge of how wonderful a woman’s touch could, should be.

Her mouth was getting dry; Kitty couldn’t stop herself from running her eyes up and down Jubilee’s body. Seeing her pert breasts, her supple hips, all the tawny lusciousness of her petite body, and comparing it to Betsy, who had many of the same features while still coming off as her polar opposite. 

Jubilee was younger, shorter, more inexperienced, with smaller breasts and a virginal little cunt—all of which made her almost more tempting than the sexpot Betsy. Kitty felt her nipples stiffening inside her bra, pushing out with excitement as if Jubilee were reaching for them, about to touch them.

Someone dropped a soap dish, trying to put away the bar of soap in it, and both items clattered down to rebound off the slats that served as a floor. It drew Kitty’s attention, her head whirling around, and as she scanned the room for the disturbance, she saw a flashing smile on Monet’s face. Something in Monet’s expression told her that Monet had seen her looking at Jubilee’s body, seen under the mask of her maternal interest.

Shit, Kitty thought angrily. It’d been stupid of her to be so obvious, especially with Monet smarting from their confrontation, no doubt itching for retribution. Kitty didn’t know if she’d been lucky enough for Monet to dismiss the whole thing as appearances being deceptive—who would believe an X-Men teacher pursuing a relationship with one of the students, no matter how small the age difference? All she could do was promise herself she wouldn’t be caught slipping again.

I’d be more cautious if I weren’t so horny, Kitty thought to herself. It’ll be easier to keep my cool once Betsy’s here. Once I have her, it’ll be easy to ignore Jubilee. And Monet.

***

Betsy Braddock stretched her long, shapely legs, feeling her satin sheets touch every inch of their bare flesh as she reached for a cigarette from the nightstand, lit it, then breathed in the first helping of smoke from it. Holding it in her lungs, embracing it with her body, then letting it trail out of her, going curling to the ceiling of the small cabin she shared with Kitty Pryde. 

The ashtray on the nightstand was already messy with cigarette butts, telling Betsy she shouldn’t have anymore, but there weren’t many ways to quell the restless energy sparking between the muscles of her body. She smoked when she was nervous, when there was nothing she could do about her nervousness, and on that night filling the ashtray with cigarette butts seemed a fair price to give herself relief from her nerves.

She looked out through the window of the cabin, listened impatiently for the sound of approaching footprints, but outside there was only moonlight and the chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls. How long could it possibly take for Kitty to get her kids cleaned up and bunked down for the night? It felt like hours since Betsy had first started waiting for her, though really it couldn’t have been that long since she’d gotten her own cadre of girls settled in for the night. Kitty would only be a few more minutes, if that—and the thought made Betsy’s skin quiver into goosebumps.

It had been six months since Betsy had been persuaded to serve on the X-Men team headquartered in Emma Frost’s Massachusetts Academy, taking orders from her, while Kitty stayed at the Xavier Institute. They’d only been able to grab scattered moments together since then, their lives had been so hectic. One emergency taking up Betsy’s time, then another taking up Kitty’s. Finally, Betsy had found a replacement for her slot on Emma’s team, and now they’d have all summer together.

Recalling what it had been like when she had shared the news, in one of their infrequent dates, Betsy drew her thighs tight together. A tingle rippled inside her, not entirely erotic. She’d been in enough relationships to know that sometimes, togetherness was as much a test as separation. Would Kitty still feel the same way about her when they picked up where they left off, seeing each other every day? Had absence made the heart grow fonder, or had the fire between them guttered? 

Betsy tried to picture the sight Kitty would see when she came in. She lifted the sheet off of her naked flesh and came up onto her elbow, looking down at the chiseled curves of her body, the bare skin as shapely as sculpted art. Her hands ran slowly over her full breasts, fingers teasing over them to prove they were every bit as enticing without her lingerie-like costume as they were inside it. They were perky and firm, barely drooping from her chest, but with the jiggling softness that proved they were entirely natural. They felt smooth as silk to the touch, pulling magnetically at Betsy’s fingers, proving as much a temptation to herself as they hopefully would to Kitty. But instead of staying and stroking them, Betsy ran her hands further down her body.

Her stomach was smooth and taut, without an ounce of fat blotting her silhouette, but also without excess musculature distorting the serenity of her creamy, inviting belly. Then there were her slender hips, hourglassing out from her trim waist with just enough width to support her sizable hips and abundant ass. In her costume, with the seat of her leotard climbing riskily down her buttocks and back up her crotch, the side-to-side sway of her ass had been known to stop traffic. She was used to picking up lustful surface thoughts about her body, and it made her swell inside to know she was an object of desire for nearly everyone she met, although few had the guts to brave her intimidating beauty and try seducing her.

Kitty had not only tried, but succeeded, with the skills to back up every come-on, every innuendo. It was hard for Betsy not to think of Kitty, as her hands strayed lower, touching the silken flash of purple hair that heralded her slit. Whether at the thought of Kitty or due to her own overheated touch, Betsy felt a heated shock burn through the pit of her stomach. 

Yes, the sex had been wonderful. She’d always been drawn to women, but she’d preferred men and their overpowering instruments, until Kitty had taught her how much pleasure could be had from something as simple as a fluttering tongue traipsing over her sex.

The pad of her forefinger ran over the purple fur, delighting in its luxurious softness, which seemed to caress her petting finger in turn. Then she touched what her thatch guarded, feeling a tingle pulse through her as though to draw her finger into her cunt. 

Betsy nudged her fingertip inside herself, her own body proving too tempting for her mind to resist. As she closed her eyes and thought of Kitty’s naked flesh, she could almost pretend it was Kitty touching her, preparing the meal that she would soon feast on as would any chef.