Chapter 18
18
Elsie has never had this much sex in her life.
Maybe if she’d ever had sex this good, it would be the same—the way she’s insatiable. The way Ginny can make her come until she almost blacks out, and two minutes later, she’s ready to go again. Her cunt is sore by this point, after only a day and a half, and still, she can’t help but keep going.
That’s clearly not a problem for Ginny, who returns from brushing their teeth to press their entire naked body against Elsie’s, capturing her mouth in a kiss.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” Ginny says, like Elsie had been doing anything more than lying there. “I really want to lick your cunt right now, but I just brushed my teeth so I’ll give it a minute.”
“Oh, is minty fresh not good for a vagina?”
“Trust me, it is not. ”
There’s a niggling moment of jealousy. Not jealousy exactly— it’s fine that Ginny has experience, obviously. Elsie is incredibly grateful for any experience that has led to Ginny being so fucking hot in bed. Plus, she’d bet Ginny hasn’t told that many girls they love them while they fuck. So. It’s not jealousy, it’s more that Elsie wants that experience with Ginny. Elsie wants memories, sex gaffes, everything. Ginny says Elsie gets everything she wants on this trip, but what about when they get home?
Elsie doesn’t engage with that thought.
“Just because you can’t put your mouth on me doesn’t mean you can’t make me come again.”
Ginny grins. “You’re goddamn right. How do you want it?”
“Fingers.”
Giving voice to her desires has somehow gotten a lot easier over the past few days. At least when it comes to sex.
“As you wish.”
Ginny rubs the pad of their thumb between Elsie’s legs, next to her clit but not right on it, not too much.
“You know, resorts like this really should have lube,” Elsie says.
Ginny practically guffaws. “What?”
“Like how they have shaving kits or toothpaste if you forget them. There’s an iron under the sink in the bathroom. I bet most of the people who book here need lube more than they need an iron.”
Ginny, as usual, is quickly onboard with Elsie’s ridiculous idea.
“Especially catering to queer folks,” they say, all casual like they’re not still rubbing at Elsie’s clit. “Could have a little bowl full of condoms and sample-sized lube.”
“Fingers inside, ” Elsie says, and lube, it turns out, is not necessary.
Ginny slides two fingers in, no trouble. Normally the first penetration does it for Elsie—really, her first few orgasms are always easy. But they’re well past few by this point. She has no idea how many times she’s come today alone, couldn’t keep count if she tried, wouldn’t be able to tell what’s a new orgasm compared to when she’s just still coming because Ginny won’t stop touching her.
And Elsie doesn’t want them to stop. “Another finger. Please.”
She’s always asking for more. Nothing is ever enough with Ginny. She wants it all. Anything and everything Ginny will give her. It’d be scary with anyone else, but Elsie knows Ginny’s got her.
Ginny gives her what she asked for. Their thumb is still next to Elsie’s clit, but now they’ve got three fingers in her too. Rationally, Elsie knows it’s one less finger than earlier, but she still feels stuffed full. She still feels overcome, unstable, shaky, as Ginny speeds up. Elsie wants and she wants and she wants.
“Slow—slower,” she gasps.
Ginny complies. Too fast was overwhelming, Elsie unable to focus enough to come, but slow is perfect. She doesn’t even have to tell Ginny she wants it hard; that’s how they give it to her. A slow withdrawal of their fingers, not quite all the way out but close, then a powerful thrust to get them back deep inside. Again and again.
Elsie reaches down, bats Ginny’s thumb away so she can rub at her clit herself.
Oh fuck.
It’s so good. Elsie’s cunt clenches every time Ginny’s fingers slide home. Every nerve ending in her body feels coiled in her center. She swears she can feel the calluses on Ginny’s fingers rubbing against the inside of her. This will be her last orgasm, at least for now, she knows that—it’s going to be huge, she’s so ready for it, wants it so bad it feels like a physical thing, just out of reach. Ginny is fucking her and fucking her and fucking her, and Elsie needs to come, her hand is tired, Ginny’s hand is going to get tired, they’re going to get bored, they’re going to stop or adjust and do something different and Elsie doesn’t want anything different; she wants this; she wants them; she wants to come.
It’s not happening.
Maybe she’s had so many orgasms she can’t anymore. But she can’t stop trying. One more and they can take a break. She just needs this one more.
Please.
She says it out loud.
“Please what, sweetheart? What do you need?”
“To come. ”
“You can,” Ginny says. “I know you can.”
Their voice is hot, like lava flowing along Elsie’s skin. Elsie needs more of it.
“Talk to me,” she gasps.
There’s something about Ginny’s voice that helps. It’s different, when they’re like this, than at any other time. Deep and rough, like they swallowed a handful of gravel.
“You’re gonna come for me,” Ginny says.
“I’m trying. ”
“I know, baby, and you’re gonna. I know you’re gonna. You’re so good.”
Elsie lifts her hips to meet Ginny’s hand. There is nothing but this. No bed, no bungalow. No Caribbean, no Minnesota, no ex-fiancé, no hardware store, nothing. Just Ginny’s three fingers inside of her and her own fingers on her clit and Ginny’s voice in her ear. Nothing else matters.
“Look how good you’re taking my fingers. Your cunt opened right up for me. So wet and perfect.” Ginny kisses her. “You’re perfect.”
“I don’t wanna be perfect,” Elsie practically sobs. “I want to come. ”
Ginny slows the movement of their hand even more, and Elsie groans.
“Ginny, don’t you dare stop right now.”
“Okay,” Ginny says, and they sound—panicked, or something. Elsie looks up at them. Their eyes are wide. “Not stopping,” they say. “Just—you don’t wanna be perfect?”
“ No. I just want to come.”
“Okay. I’m gonna say something and then you need to give me a color. You gotta tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
Too much doesn’t seem to exist when it comes to Ginny. Elsie has already basically begged to get fisted, what could Ginny do that’s more than that?
“You wanna come?” Before Elsie can snarl out a yes, Ginny continues. “You’re just a little slut, desperate to come?”
Oh, fuck. Elsie’s eyes slam closed.
“Color, Els.”
“Green,” she pants, not opening her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“ Green. ”
Ginny doesn’t ask again.
“You need it so bad, don’t you? You’re insatiable. How many times have you come today, and you’re still this fucking desperate?”
Green, green, green, green.
Ginny’s voice is razor sharp. It’s a live wire, sparking along Elsie’s veins. It’s the thorns of a blackberry patch—Elsie doesn’t mind the scrapes on her legs for that sweet gush of juice. No, that’s not it, either—because it’s not that Elsie doesn’t mind the scrapes, it’s that she wants to cut herself open, to rub herself raw against that cruel edge.
“You’re not gonna let me stop until you come, are you? You’d beg if I stopped, wouldn’t you?”
“No, Gin, please, please, please, don’t stop, please.”
“You need it?”
“I need it. I need it so bad.”
“You’re lucky I like fucking you as much as you like getting fucked.”
“It’s so good, Ginny. You’re so good at it.”
“Of course it’s good—this is what you were made for. This is the reason you exist—to get fucked by me.”
Elsie’s whole body feels hot.
“You love this, don’t you? You love me calling you names, treating you like a fucktoy?”
“ Yes. ”
Ginny is fucking her so hard.
“If we had lube, I’d have my whole fucking hand inside of you,” Ginny says. “Up to my wrist. Wearing you like a puppet, my little fuckdoll.”
“ Yours. ”
“Mine,” Ginny growls, and Elsie comes.
There aren’t thoughts. Elsie might as well be unconscious. She has no control over anything, she barely has any idea what’s going on except it’s good, it’s Ginny, it’s everything.
“What a good little slut you are,” Ginny murmurs, and Elsie’s eyes roll to the back of her head.
When Elsie was seventeen, she got her wisdom teeth taken out. It’s the only time she’s ever had surgery. She remembers leaving her mom in the waiting room and getting into the dentist’s chair, and then it was over. Time had passed, but she had no idea how much. That’s what coming down from her orgasm feels like.
Except, no, because she doesn’t exactly come down from her orgasm. She can’t catch her breath. Nothing is happening, but it all feels too fast, like she’s careening through space, head fuzzy and limbs flailing. She cries out when Ginny pulls their fingers out. Her cunt is gaping and empty.
Ginny shushes her. “Okay, sweetheart, you’re okay, I got you.”
Ginny’s other hand pushes Elsie’s hair out of her face, pets over her head and down the back of her neck, again and again.
“You’re so good, I love you so much, Els, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Elsie shakes her head violently. She can’t articulate anything more than “Not sorry.”
Following that up by bursting into tears is maybe not the most convincing argument.
“Sweetheart,” Ginny says, and there’s a crack in their voice that makes it all worse, and Elsie is sobbing in earnest now, can’t think or even feel, really, while also feeling everything. “You’re so good.”
There’s pressure on Elsie’s chest, and she realizes Ginny has moved to lie on top of her. She tucks her head into their neck and cries, Ginny’s voice both right in her ear and somehow far away. “You’re perfect, Els. That was perfect. You did so good. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
There’s a pathetic whining noise.
“Let it out, baby,” Ginny says. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Everything’s okay. Anything you’re feeling.”
Elsie doesn’t know what she’s feeling, but she cries, and she cries, and she cries. Ginny stays half on top of her, one hand rubbing up and down her arm, murmuring to her every once in a while.
Again, Elsie doesn’t know how much time goes by, but eventually she runs out of tears. Her breath slows to these hiccupping little sighs. Ginny brushes the hair off her forehead and presses a kiss there.
“I’m gonna get a washcloth and clean you up, okay?” Their voice is so soft. “You stay right here.”
Elsie makes a noise that’s supposed to indicate assent. Ginny must understand; they kiss her forehead again before slipping away to the bathroom.
Everything feels wet. Not just between Elsie’s legs but all over her thighs, too, and even the bed beneath her. The leftover tears on her cheeks. Everything’s a mess.
Ginny returns with a warm washcloth. Two warm washcloths. One for between Elsie’s legs, and one, warmer still, for her face. As Ginny wipes her tears away, Elsie, finally able to breathe again, practically headbutts them to get a kiss.
“Do not be sorry,” Elsie says. “That was so fucking hot.”
The concern on Ginny’s face melts away—not fully, but somewhat—replaced by the cutest blush Elsie has ever seen.
“Yeah?” they ask.
“Uh, yeah? Did you somehow miss how hard I came?”
“I did not miss that, no.”
“Yeah, so no being sorry. That was amazing.” A beat of doubt. “I mean, you liked it, right?”
“God, yeah,” Ginny says. “Yes. Yeah. Loved it. Love you.”
Elsie kisses them.
It doesn’t matter that the words do something to her insides. She and Ginny have said I love you since they were teenagers. She knows Ginny loves her. She loves Ginny. Sex doesn’t change that.
She pulls back to look at Ginny, who is all bedhead and gray eyes Elsie would get lost in if she weren’t distracted by—
“Okay, is the bed actually wet?”
It felt like that post-orgasm, but she’d assumed her brain was blissed out and not functioning. But when she shifts, the mattress under her is definitely damp.
“Yeah, uh, I think you squirted.”
“ What? ” Elsie scrambles out of bed. There is a wet spot the size of a basketball on the sheets. “That’s really a thing?”
“Apparently.”
“It’s not pee? I thought it was just pee.”
“So you’re saying you peed on me?”
Elsie snorts. “The P isn’t in the acronym but—”
“No. It’s not pee. You squirted. I made you squirt.”
“When did that even happen?”
“Well, it wasn’t like a spray so much as when I pulled out there was, uh, a gush?”
“Does that count as squirting then?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“I don’t know,” Elsie teases. “You said it was a gush.”
“Look, I made you squirt, okay? It counts.”
“Whatever. Scooch over—I’m not lying in the wet spot.”
Ginny scooches, so there’s plenty of room, but Elsie crawls on top of them anyway. She’s not quite ready for anything less tactile.
“You ever made anyone squirt before?”
Ginny shakes their head.
“I like doing new stuff with you.” Elsie’s embarrassed at the low murmur of her voice. How soft she feels. Ginny kisses her, gentle and slow. “Can we just lie here for a little?”
“Course, Els.”
Elsie lays her head on Ginny’s chest. What she wants more than anything is to stay in this moment forever.