A Sweet Revenge

I want you. I’ll take you any way I can have you.” She untied her robe and let it slip to the floor.

The pale blue silken nightgown shimmered in the firelight, almost too ephemeral to be clothing. It was whisper thin and she wore nothing underneath. Helen could clearly see the outline of her nipples. She held out her hand for Jane and led her over to the bed. Words were unnecessary at this point. They had talked and talked over the last few weeks. Now they had a new way to communicate.

She placed Jane’s hand on her breast, to let her feel her wildly leaping heart, to feel the longing there. Jane lingered on the breast, cupping the weight and brushing her thumb over the nipple, which pebbled becoming more sensitive with each stroke. Tenderly Jane kissed the pulse at the base of Helen’s throat.

Helen took Jane into her arms for a lover’s kiss. There was none of the earlier exploration but pure hunger. She wanted, needed Jane to feel how urgent her desire was and poured everything into that kiss with mouth and hands, thrusting her fingers into the feathery chestnut curls surrounding her like a halo. The silk gown warmed under her frantic caresses until Jane broke it off to step back and draw the gown over her head, baring her body to Helen’s gaze.

Firelight kissed every smooth curve. She was petite but full figured, with plump firm breasts and high, dusky nipples. Her belly rounded beautifully to a shapely bottom. At the apex of her thighs, a dark nest of curls glistened.

Helen was glad to banish her own gown, exposing herself to Jane’s view. She wasn’t a great beauty, but having children had not diminished her attractions. Instead, her slender frame had filled out and she thought looked the better for the extra flesh. Her own breasts were heavier and looser, large and soft with nipples like ripe berries. The curls hiding her womanhood were thick and as golden as the hair on her head.

When she had first come to the marriage bed, Helen was bashful. But now there was none of the shyness left. Jane made her feel beautiful, just with the way she looked at her and touched her. She hoped Jane was aware how beautiful she was to her. Helen kissed her face, the dimples, her delicate brows, tracing the curve of Jane’s cheek until she buried her face against her neck.