TOUCH II

Twentieth Chapter.

She was a different woman when she got into her car. A different woman with a different kind of glow.

She laid back on her seat, letting out a breath as she shut her eyes, relaxing into the thought of the woman that constantly invaded her mind.

She couldn't get her lips out of her mind. She replayed their kiss over and over relentlessly. She couldn't unfeel their lips together.

Bridgett's lips felt tender against hers, her mouth felt warm. She couldn't let go of the taste of her tongue, the feel of her teeth against her lips.

The memory of her soft skin against her lips as she sucked her neck, as she tasted her, while she relished the sound of her moans as Bridgett attempted to censor them.

She remembered every detail so intricately it was as though it was happening at this very moment. She remembers the pace of her breath because she had watched her chest rise and fall through the t-shirt that annoyingly hid her breasts. She remembers how she so subtly moved her hips each time teeth sunk into her neck.

The mere memory of Bridgett seduced her, and caused her to bite at her bottom lip to contain the urge to moan at nothing. She was uncomfortable in her seat, her underwear soaked, an ache between her legs that felt too excessive to ignore.

Her hand travelled down into her sweatpants, and past her underwear, her finger making contact with her sensitive clit. She inhaled sharply, a hand gripping her steering wheel tightly as she began move downward.

"Fuck." she breathed out as her finger entered her center to massage the walls.

She threw her head back, breathing heavily as she pleased herself.

Her eyes shut so that she could imagine she wasn't alone. Her mind gave her an image of Bridgett, bare before her. She wasn't vivid enough to be real, but not blurry enough for her to know it wasn't real.

Her imagination was responsible for forming Bridgett's entire body. She knew the texture of it well, smooth and gentle, with a tint complexion. She remembered how it felt against her hand, the memory making a satisfied groan escape her throat.

Her fingers developed a speed as she imagined what Bridgett would taste like. She imagined herself between her legs, devouring her as the woman struggled beneath her. Her hips bucked at the thought of how her name would sound when it left her lips in a manner that begged.

She thought of how her legs would shake and she would sweat, breathing heavy from the pleasure that collaborated with the ache of seeking release.

Jordan let out a loud moan that she hoped remained within the doors of her car, but could barely care as she continued to drive herself into madness.

As she narrowed her high, the foul thoughts enhanced.

Jordan wasn't at all kinky, but Bridgett Owens opened a door into her mind that should've been left closed. She unlocked thoughts that should never be thought by any one of any age.

Thoughts that should only take place in her imagination. In her imagination where she gripped the brunette hair and pulled it as though she were playing a game of tug-a-war. In her imagination where she used hand cuffs and whips and vibrators and all sorts of tools to drive Bridgett into overstimulation.

In Jordan's mind, lustful activities took place, promiscuous in nature. What she felt for Bridgett, which was pure admiration, turned into a desire so strong that she could think only to ruin her until she cried out in agonizing pleasure.

She became sadistic, merciless to the woman in her fantasy. In the fantasy where she called her all sorts of vile words. Where she referred to her as a slut, a whore, an object of sex, a toy for pleasure, a hoe whose purpose was to fuck and get fucked. In her fantasy where she used all sorts of profanities to describe the woman she had valued just seconds ago, the woman she thought purely of.