Read Younger Than Yesterday Online

Authors: Harper Bliss

Younger Than Yesterday (4 page)

“Oh, I’m a lesbian now, am I?” If that’s what the satisfaction of having a woman’s body to cuddle up to at night makes me, then I really don’t mind.

“You sure are behaving like one.” I can hardly deny that. I slip into bed with her and curve my arm around her waist.

“Only because your pussy tastes so sweet.” Lately, I’ve been baffled more than once by the words coming out of my mouth. My theory is that my brain needs to compress years of sexual frustration into the few days I have left with Cat. Anything goes. It’s also true that, while before I was always a mere—but happy—recipient of it, I now consider the pleasure of performing cunnilingus as one of the great discoveries of my late-forties. The power I can exercise over Cat just by licking her is intoxicating.

“I rest my case.” She plants a kiss on my hair. “I want to get lost in your curls,” she hums and her words set off that weak feeling in my stomach again. That hint at something more that instantly gets squashed by our circumstances. This isn’t just about physicality, about getting my sexual needs met. Perhaps it’s easy to confuse the tenderness between us for love, or something akin, but, ultimately, that’s what it feels like. But I’m nowhere near ready to broach that subject with Cat. Mostly because she’s still suffering from a broken heart, even though the name Jenny hasn’t been spoken in days. But I realise that, for her, this can’t be much more than a rebound affair.

“I want to get lost somewhere else.” I tilt my head up and find her eyes. Three tiny laughter lines crinkle around her temples. She knows what I mean by now. I’ve all but licked her raw. 

I kiss her breasts, spreading hot saliva over her nipples. Her body already feels familiar, as if it belongs here with me and nowhere else. Before making my way down, to my final destination, I search for her gaze once more. I want to witness her desire for me before I satisfy it. I want her to say it.

“Fuck me,” she says, because she knows, and her words ignite tiny explosions in my blood. She slides her body down and opens her legs for me, a gesture so trivial but at the same time so intimate.

I smell my soap on her, the same one I’ve used for years, blending with the aroma of her juices. I trail a path of moist kisses along her inner thighs. Her hands are in my hair—she seems really fond of my hair—and tug at my curls.

Before zoning in on her pussy I lick along her pubes, the coarse texture of them tickling my tongue. Then I can’t hold it in any longer and I wonder if she knows how much I want this, how much of a slave I’ve become to her. I take in the length of her pussy, her glistening lips, so blood-shot and swollen for me, and tuck in.

The first contact always overwhelms me, because, despite the familiarity of all of her by now, this is still new to me. Her softness on my tongue and how she gasps for air that first instant. It makes my own clit pulse for attention and I feel myself heating up, a moist glow radiating between my legs.

I lick her up and down with long tentative strokes and her hands grip my hair firmer, as if she’s never letting go again. When I part her lips with my tongue and gently flick the tip over her clit, her muscles contract and she pushes herself upwards, closer to my eager mouth. She’s mine now, which is all I want.

I revel in her moans as I suck her clit between my lips and nibble it gently. And then pure passion takes over. I need her to tremble for me, shake and writhe underneath me like no one else ever has. I unleash a tongue-dancing frenzy on her, feeling her pleasure on my soaking wet lips. It shivers through me as her muscles clench and release, a bit more intensely with every stroke of my tongue.

“Fuck me,” she says again and this time she doesn’t say it to please me. She says it to please herself. I bring two fingers to the rim of her pussy and lightly circle them around the opening before slowly letting them enter. I love being inside of her. It’s the closest I can get.

With every thrust I drive my fingers deeper into her, coaxing louder groans from her throat. A few strands of my hair are curled around her fingers. It doesn’t hurt the way it should. Instead, it engorges my clit because I know it means she’s close. As much as I like to fuck her, and lick her, there’s nothing like having her come all over my fingers, her juices spilling over my lips.

“Oh god,” she whispers, then repeats it again and again. She loves drama in the bedroom, likes to make a spectacle of herself when she gets there, unlike me—but I’m still getting used to this new lease on my sex life. She thrashes her head from left to right and yanks at my hair while shoving my face as much into her as possible. Her body shakes itself free of any tension as her pussy clutches my fingers. Her orgasm rips through me, like a hurricane of satisfaction, pleasing me in ways I never knew existed. It’s not a smug satisfaction and it has nothing to do with ego. It’s more a gentle reaffirmation smouldering in my soul, knowing everything is within my grasp again. That I’ve found what I didn’t even know I was looking for.

“What the fuck have you done to me?” Cat asks between gasps. I could ask her the same question. I crawl up to see her face. Tiny drops of sweat cling to her forehead and her cheeks are flushed bright red. I look into her eyes and I have to stop myself from saying it because I’m sure it would ruin the magic of the aftermath. But I would give everything to hold her in my arms and tell her I love her because, daft or not, true or not, that’s what it feels like—and it’s not a tiny feeling either.

* * *

The day before the Archers are set to leave, I change my flight back. I meant to stay in the villa for four more weeks, but the void I face after Cat’s departure is too vast. It’s more a symbolic gesture than anything else. My own departure from my old life. I don’t tell Cat because I don’t want to put any pressure on her. Despite John and Helen’s presence this was essentially a holiday romance. This would never have happened in London. 

For me, everything may have changed, but, as far as I know, for Cat it was only a way of getting over a broken heart. I’m afraid to ask, afraid to hear words that are too definite. The wise, rational part of me knows full well we don’t stand a chance back in England, but the prospect of staying behind alone is even more gruelling. At least in London I can see her. Pop over to John and Helen’s unannounced on Sunday when they have their weekly family dinner. They always have an extra plate for me.

When I wake up in Cat’s bed on the morning of her flight home, her usual content wake-up smile is competing with a big frown. She looks all wrinkled and frumpy, as if she didn’t sleep a wink.

“Never had a summer love before?” I ask, inwardly kicking myself for using the l-word.

Cat shakes her head and swallows hard. It’s clear she doesn’t know how to deal with this situation. Or maybe it’s because I used the word love. But it’s too late to backtrack now.

“Neither have I.” I snuggle up to her, resting my head on her shoulder one last time, scouring my brain for a way to say goodbye properly. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be.” Cat holds her breath and my heart jumps. “Confined to summer, I mean.” Her body goes rigid with tension underneath mine.

“Is it time for the talk?” A strange kind of elation spreads through me. She doesn’t have to say the words for me to know.

“I’m leaving in a few hours, so maybe we do need to discuss some things.” Her voice trembles, insecurity leaking from her words.

“No need.” I tilt my head up and find her eyes. “I booked a flight back home next week.” My face bursts out into a beaming smile. The shock etched around her mouth is priceless. “I can’t bear the thought of spending the rest of the summer here without you.” My stomach suddenly feels funny. If this isn’t a love confession, then I don’t know what is.

“Are you serious?” I’m pretty sure that’s pure joy running across her face.

“As if I’m the world’s biggest prankster.”

Cat responds by launching herself at me, crashing me under her bodyweight in the process, and showering me in an avalanche of kisses.

“Let’s celebrate.” Her fingers travel down, along my chest, between my legs. She gazes deep into my eyes as she finds my throbbing pussy lips. Happiness bubbles through me as she claims me, one last time.

A knock on the door startles us.

“Kit-Kat, darling?” John half-yells. “Are you up? We must go soon.”

We try not to burst out into giggles at John’s sudden interruption.

“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” Cat shouts back.

“All right.” My heart thunders in my chest as I wait for John’s footsteps to wither as he walks away. Thank god he’s not one of those parents who don’t give their children any privacy, no matter their age.

“Has that killed your hunger for me, Kit-Kat?” I smile, but at the same time vow to never call her that again.

“Never,” she says and I gasp for air as her fingers enter me.

THE END

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About the author

Harper Bliss has travelled the world in search of sexual satisfaction. She now resides in a hot Asian country and dedicates her time to writing down the stories that have inspired and aroused her.

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