The Women of Custer City Ch. 14-15

"It feels different," she said, "her body more tender than a man."

Chrissy gave another gentle stroke, and her eyes lost all focus.

"The closest you can get," she sighed, "Is a strap-on, toys. It feels cold, sometimes plasticky and fake, but there are upsides too. They know your body better. They know how to build up the mood."

Chrissy's other arm got involved. Her hand flourished down Ginger's side, tracing her ribs and rolling across her naval. She brushed Ginger's bushy red hair back, and let herself lean closer.

"No man," Chrissy whispered, "Not even my husband, ever went down on me the way a random girl I brought home from the bar did."

Chrissy let her head fall all the way, until she nuzzled against Ginger's shoulders. She wriggled her hips until their torso's were stacked and she could feel Ginger's hardening nipples through their shirt. She ran her hands down Ginger's sides again, and saw the way the girl spread her legs.

Chrissy let seduction creep into her whisper, "It's not a perfect replacement," she said, her lips kissing as she ran down Ginger's shirt, "Especially when it's up against real love-"

Chrissy arrived at Ginger's pants. She gripped the waistband for a moment, contemplating, but settled for the tease. She started back up Ginger's chest, lifting herself into upward-facing dog, finding her lips pressed into that bushy red hair.

"But it can be damn fun."

Ginger sat forward. Her arms shot out, almost in a trance, and wrapped around Chrissy's neck. She leaned forward, her heart pounding too fast to try a kiss, so she bent her forehead and pressed against the woman's chest.

Chrissy reached down. She brushed her dainty fingers over Ginger's chin, they gently guided it skyward, until the two were face to face again.

"We also," she started. Her hand started working it's way down Ginger's form again, stopping to carve a shortcut between her young, perky breasts, "We know how to listen. We can see how you react, see what you want, what you need."

Ginger's heart hadn't slowed, but the desire took over. Her head darted forward, and she gave Chrissy a peck. It was quick at first, but Chrissy stopped her from pulling away. Ginger felt a guiding hand at the back of her bush red hair, and it slowly pulled them back together.

The two were still kissing when Chrissy's hands ran down Ginger's back. She felt the clasps of the bra, but didn't stop until she was cupping Ginger's panties.

"I can go slow," Chrissy whispered. She wormed her way down Ginger's body again, only stopping to give quick kisses through her shirt. She made her way to the waistband, and gave her underwear a teasing flick of her tongue, "I can do whatever you want Ginger."

The movement was involuntary. Ginger didn't realize the way she spread her legs, the way she lifted her hips, begging Chrissy to come closer.

"Yeah baby," Chrissy said, her words caught in the fabric, "You want that?"

Ginger's hands couldn't make up their mind. She wanted nothing more than to grip the elastic at her waist and kick off her underwear, but Chrissy left a tingle, and Ginger's fingers couldn't stay away. She felt herself, pressing through the wet fabric, while Chrissy flicked the hair from her eyes.

For a moment, Chrissy only watched. She let one hand settle on her breast, while the other wormed it's way between her own legs. She watched as Ginger's head rolled back, losing herself to the sensation, and Chrissy seized her moment. Her head darted forward, and her tongue shot out like a gecko. She gave a quick figure 8, and the sensation caught Ginger off guard. Her knees snapped shut, while her torso squirmed up the couch. Her lips gave a gentle moan, while Chrissy settled her hands back at Ginger's waist. The time for teasing had passed. She pulled slowly and sensually, taking in the wild mane of ginger hair between the girl's legs.

Ginger hadn't even kicked off the underwear before Chrissy poked her head forward. She started on her inner thigh, a quick smooch on the left, a peck on the right. She spread Ginger's legs as she worked her way closer. She let her lips settle against the orange tufts, letting them acclimate to her presence. Her head swayed, side to side, slowly at first, while her tongue poked between her lips. Ginger's hand shot out, grabbing Chrissy's hair, and Chrissy didn't stop.

Her tongue spun in quick circles, running against her labia, then pressing flat. She listened, a small smile forming as Ginger's soft moans grew, louder, and louder, and louder.

Chrissy let her fingers rise. She reached forward, cupping it like she was scooping water, and settled it between her legs. She ran her fingers up, a tender flutter as she brushed Ginger's lips, and then inserted. It was just two fingers, her middle and pointer, but when she bent them, arching them while she pulled in and out, she worked Ginger's squirming body like a marionette.

Ginger's grip stiffened, and Chrissy felt her head jerk up, smiling in ecstasy. She kept working her fingers, and Ginger kept squirming, but Chrissy's mind drifted towards the silicon toy she kept tucked in the ottoman. She had to rise, leaning away from the couch to reach it, but her fingers never stopped working, and Ginger's body never stopped shuddering.

Chrissy tried to be discreet. She held it in a full fist, careful to keep it from jangling, but Ginger was too far gone to notice. Chrissy spun the strap-on in her fingers, holding the head out, then pressed it flat against Ginger's pubic bone. The girl let out a gasp.

Chrissy rocked the silicon penis back and forth, up and down, working against her clit, then running the length of her form.

"Are you ready?" Chrissy asked, her voice sweaty.

All Ginger gave was a quick nod. Chrissy started fumbling with the strap, turning it until she could fit a leg through. She stopped working Ginger, just long enough to give it the final adjustments, and Ginger's eyes opened, offended.

Then Chrissy stepped forward. She kept her legs out, wide like a man. She wanted to grab the redhead's legs and pull her closer, but she needed to keep a hand on the toy. She guided it, slowly and carefully. Ginger was dripping wet, but Chrissy couldn't help herself. She arched her neck and spit, the saliva running down the ret silicon.

"Fuck," Ginger moaned. Chrissy resquared her hips, and Ginger spread her legs as far as they'd go.

Chrissy started slowly at first. She inched forward, trying to find the right pressure, trying to find the unnatural rhythm she'd need.

"Fuck me," Ginger squeaked.

Chrissy listened. She rocked her hips, thrusting; her pace quickening. It didn't matter how many times she'd done it, the motion felt unnatural, and she had to find it every single time. But boy did she find it.

Chrissy became mesmerized, watching the way Ginger's tits shook like an earthquake. That bushy red hair danced so fast it looked like it tried to shake free from her head, and the moans, became fast squeaks, struggling to keep up with her breathing.

Chrissy thrust past the point of sore hips. She didn't stop until Ginger's legs snapped shut in orgasm, and her hand ran between her legs, catching the toy.

Ginger was still shuddering when she spoke, her body still so sensitive it kept jolting, "Can I try?"

Chrissy couldn't help but laugh. She fell forward, both their bodies sticky with sweat, and for a moment she rested on top of the girl, the strap-on flush between their stomachs.

"Of course."

Then it was Ginger's turn. She struggled getting her feet through the strap, and the motion came even less naturally, but the two fucked until neither had the strength to stand and they rushed for a glass of water.

There's some wisdom in what Chrissy was saying, Ginger knew, I can't lose myself. I can't just wallow forever. I need to have fun. It is fun.

It's just not Charlie.