Amber slanted her head towards Martha’s pussy again, but it was different from this angle. She figured there was no other option but for Martha to catch her drift, despite, perhaps, being taken by surprise a little. Amber had taken herself by surprise. When she’d envisioned this night, and she’d done so many times, this image had never made its way from her subconscious to her conscious mind, yet here they were. In this position, which was arousing Amber to a level she wouldn’t be able to bear for long. Because Martha was indeed catching her drift and she felt her hands crawling up her behind, her nails digging in, Martha shifting beneath her.

Amber took it as a sign to find her own most comfortable position. She was able to shed all she had learned about neck alignment and proper posture easily—it dissolved in the atmosphere of extreme lust she found herself in. She hunkered down some more and as Martha ran her tongue over her sex, Amber sucked Martha’s clit between her lips. This double assault of sensation was making her skin break out in goosebumps and her pulse beat in her throat—and just about everywhere else.

Even on the most regular of days, Amber was hyperaware of her body, and now it seemed like she could feel every last cell pulse with mounting desire. As though every molecule in her body had been given its own awareness and all this new-found consciousness was making them scream out for only one thing. More of Martha.

Amber busied herself with Martha’s clit and Martha did the same to hers. And she could hardly claim that, whilst at her two-month retreat, she hadn’t thought about Martha every single day. She had dreamed about her eyes and the kind of woman that hid behind them. She had imagined them waking up together on summer mornings, the sun already slanting through the windows, and catching in Martha’s light-blonde hair. Martha opening her eyes and the color of them astounding Amber all over again. And all along, Amber had known she held all the cards. She could go home and ask Martha out. Yet, fear, the thing she knew existed only in the mind, had held her back. Besides, Amber knew how to overcome fear. Because she was the one who had created it. All she had to do was let go of it.

And now here she was, with Martha’s pale skin—they were so pale together—writhing underneath her. Amber’s breasts pressing against Martha’s belly as she craned her neck some more for better access.

Then Martha surprised her by bringing a finger into play. She circled it around the rim of Amber’s pussy for only a fraction of a second before pushing it deep inside. How was Amber supposed to focus on the task at hand now? It was impossible. It was too much sensation. Too much of Martha. Too much of what she had wanted for months and had deliberately denied herself. And for what? Because she was afraid? Of this? Only the most delicious sensation the universe was capable of bestowing on her.

Martha’s finger was insistent, as though she was trying to make a point. Maybe she was. Maybe she was trying to convey a message to Amber who couldn’t see her face—who had her own face buried in Martha’s pussy. Maybe she was trying to say she was glad they had finally reached this point. That Amber had made her wait long enough. That now the two of them as an entity growing closer and closer together could finally begin. Because that was how they felt together in that moment. As one. Martha’s finger inside of her tethering herself to Amber; Amber’s mouth puckered around Martha’s clit.

It quickly became evident that there was no way Amber, not even with all the focusing ability she had built up through rigorous meditation and yoga, could focus on Martha’s pussy whilst Martha was fucking her like that. Then Martha’s finger withdrew and Amber had a moment to regroup. But the finger returned swiftly, spreading Amber wider, telling her Martha meant business because she had just added another one and why would she do that if she didn’t have one very swift outcome in mind? As of then, Martha’s pink pussy lips only served as an aphrodisiac while Martha’s fingers stroked inside of Amber from an angle that was quickly driving her crazy. Martha’s nipples pressed against her belly; Martha’s fingers pushed inside of her; Martha’s pussy was on full display in front of her. Amber was engulfed in Martha. The world had narrowed down to only Martha Waltz in her bedroom, the candles flickering in the night and, with every flicker, taking away a bit of Amber’s sanity.

Then, as she had done with the fear that had prevented her from calling Martha months ago to get this started without losing time, Amber let go. There were no inhibitions left. They were both face-deep in each other’s most intimate parts. Amber had been ready to surrender long ago. Perhaps in that glorious moment when Martha had unbuttoned her blouse and had not been able to hide the awe in her eyes. Even though Amber didn’t see herself as someone who took pride in how her body looked. She didn’t practice yoga because it made her look good—anyone who practiced for that reason alone would never make it past a few classes. Yet Amber had felt a twinge of pride course through herself nonetheless, or maybe it was lust mistaken for pride, or just the fact that she had been able, for a split second, to enthrall Martha like that.

Amber let go and let her cheek fall onto Martha’s lower belly. She let go as Martha fucked her to an orgasm she hadn’t expected to need like this, but that was what it felt like when the first signs of it made themselves manifest in her body. Like much more than a physical sensation caused by Martha’s fingers inside of her and the thought of Martha’s face so close to the very center of Amber’s pleasure. It felt like years of need were being washed away by a single wave of climax. Amber’s mind went blank after that first wave and as the second one hit her, she cried out. A guttural groan pushed past her throat, fed by everything she had denied herself for too long.

After the waves subsided, and Amber felt as though she’d been lying cheek-down on Martha’s belly for hours, she pushed herself up, lifted her leg up and maneuvered herself so she could see Martha’s face. She needed to see her, more than she needed to finish what she had started herself. She would get to that in a minute, after she’d caught a glimpse of Martha’s expression.

Martha’s smile was sweet, sweeter than Amber had ever seen it. She looked as satisfied as Amber felt. Amber lay down next to her and kissed her hard on the cheek, hoping the pressure she applied would express her emotions adequately. Martha turned her face and before Amber had a chance to do anything else, Martha was kissing her, her tongue disappearing into Amber’s mouth.

While they kissed, Amber let her hand slide down, over the slope of Martha’s breast, resting there briefly, then down even more, over her belly, where her cheek had rested earlier when she had cried out, then down to her pussy, where Amber had already kissed her profusely. While their lips remained locked, Amber slid two fingers inside of Martha and having her fingers enter Martha’s wet, hot center made her feel like the rest of the universe—and all the happiness it entailed—lay at her fingertips as well.