Chilly Willy
Introduction:
Hanna finds out she cant give Willy a speeding ticket
She helped the vice squad out from time to time, stake-outs, dressing in a plaid micro-mini and stiletto heels and halter-tops, long wigs, padded bra and tons of make up; it was not something she overly enjoyed. Being a detective, she loved, solving enigmatic robberies, catching “scam-artists”, that flocked to Vegas, getting them “off the street”. This was her life. She enjoyed most other aspects of her career, as a peace officer, the camaraderie, the sense she was making a difference. Like most cops, she hated the necessary paperwork and endless court appearances that went alongside any arrest. In addition, she shot “Sniper” with her custom Winchester 30.06 and was a member of the prestigious S.W.A.T.
She had been born with a heart defect, simply put, it beat ten to fifteen beats a minute slower than average. Heart specialists had no cure for the defect. The slower heart rate had given her a solid phlegmatic outlook on life that even her failed marriage and divorce could not shake.
Willy was late. The traffic on the freeway was light, almost non-existent, so she pressed the gas just a little harder. The 1963 Jaguar E-type was her only extravagance. It had cost her a fortune to rebuild from the hulk she had discovered at an auto graveyard in the desert just outside of the city. The twin chromed exhausts spat and growled as the sleek car shot forward at a greater pace. The monthly backyard family barbeque at her parent’s house, with her brothers and cousins was something she hated to miss.
She had restored the British sports car herself; her brothers and dad spent countless hours helping her to recreate it, to the point it had first been driven off the factory lot in Coventry England forty odd years ago. The paintwork gleamed British Racing Green. Each piece of chrome had been re-chromed and burnished until they shone. The Engine and running gear had been sent back to the Coventry factory where it had been blueprinted and retooled to accept the higher octane, lead-free gasoline of the time, rather than the leaded pollutant it had originally been created to run on. The leather of the interior was buttercup brown, an exact duplicate of the later ’80 models, with soft as a glove the comfortable bucket seats that enveloped the person sitting in them. The dashboard and steering wheel had gone to a Jaguar specialist in California, the walnut refurbished, gauges replaced, and the leather re-stitched so that it appeared new and unblemished.
Her concentration was shattered by the squawk of a siren behind her, the red and white revolving lights on the cruiser lit up behind her, stabbed her eyes in the rear-view mirror and she lifted off the gas and coasted to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
The cop who exited from the cruiser looked like a poster-girl for female cops everywhere. Willy estimated her to be about five foot ten inches. She filled the khaki uniform, as if she had been poured into it. There was not a single wrinkle in the starched khaki uniform, which she could see. The basket-weaved double-clasped “Sam Brown” leather belt around her trim waist slanted down on her left side, and supported a holstered semi automatic pistol and pouches for spare ammunition and regulation handcuffs. Her blonde hair was tied back, as per the regulations, in a ponytail, that flowed out of the back of her baseball cap. Mirrored “aviator” Raybans hid and shielded her eyes from the desert glare, making it hard to estimate her age.
“I clocked you at seventy six miles per hour, Ma’am. The speed limit posted for this section of the freeway is fifty-five. May I see your license and proof of registration please?”
Willy fished in her purse and withdrew her wallet and handed it to the officer, gold badge open, identifying herself as a fellow peace officer. “Hi”, she greeted, “Willy Smits, Metro office, ” she said brightly.
The cop looked at the offered badge, handed it back to Willy. “License and proof of ownership, please, Detective Smits”, she asked again.
Willy sighed, leaned over to the glove box and withdrew the pink ownership papers and handed them to the officious woman, along with her plastic drivers license card.
“The speed I clocked you at is above the level I can issue you a speeding ticket for. Regulation 47 of the bylaws concerning vehicular traffic on highways of Nevada state clearly states that when a vehicle is measured doing a speed in excess of twenty miles per hour over the posted speed limit, it be impounded and that a summons be issued to the driver for a court case. I have to impound this vehicle, and issue you a warrant to appear in court, Detective Smits. Will you step out of the vehicle please? I will radio for a tow-truck to take your vehicle to impound. Do you need to contact anyone for alternate transport, or shall I drive you to the nearest bus station? Perhaps you would prefer it, if I called you a cab?” the blonde cop stated blandly.
Willy was aghast, “You are joking, right? I’m also a cop, how about a little professional courtesy?” She asked.
The blond patrolwoman answered sarcastically, “Were you being professional by breaking the speed limit, Ms. Smits? Or are you chasing a suspect in your private vehicle? Perhaps you’re being chased?” She looked around hastily for the offending vehicle.
Willy shook her head resigned to the fact that the policewoman was serious. She dug into her purse and pulled out her cellular ‘phone, while unbuckling her safety belt. She pulled herself out of the seat and stood beside her beloved Jaguar. She punched buttons of her ‘phone, and waited till the party she called answered. “Hi Mom, is Dad there? Yah, yah, I know everybody is there. I know I’m late and that the burgers are on the barbeque. Can I speak to Dad please?”
She waited, holding the phone to her ear. After a few seconds her dad came the phone. “Hi Dad, can you fetch me? I’m on highway thirty five about five miles from you? No, no, the car is fine, in fact your traffic patrolwoman, um…” she squinted at the gold badge above the khaki uniform pocket, “Officer Fields, has just impounded it and is going to have it towed. Yes, okay Dad, hold on.”
Willy handed the cellular phone to the blonde policewoman.” Its Deputy-Chief John Smits. He would like a word with you.”
Hanna Fields took the offered phone and spoke. “Hello this is Officer Fields, Deputy-Chief. Yes sir, but… but I have followed the correct procedure in this case. I clocked the vehicle at seventy-six miles per hour. Yes sir, Chief. I understand. Thank you sir.” She flushed as she handed the Motorola back to Willy.
“You are free to go officer Smits. My apologies for detaining you.” She turned, stalked to her patrol car with as much dignity as she could muster, climbed in, revved the motor and proceeded, with a squeal of rubber, to make an illegal U-turn over the painted median and head back the way she had originally come.
Willy waived in mock friendliness at the disappearing squad car, as she climbed back into the cockpit of her jag, and sped off to enjoy her family barbeque.
Her dad and brothers, most of her cousins, as well as many other relatives were on the force. The merriment of the occasion was not lost on her family. Her dad admonished her for the phone call while her brothers teased her all afternoon. Chilly-Willy became Leadfoot and Speed-demon.
As the afternoon slowly descended into early evening, and the barbeque transformed into a game of family touch football, Willy turned to her father. “Dad, can you get me Hanna Fields’ home address?” She handed him her cellphone. Her dad punched in his office number and spoke to the clerk on duty. He wrote the address on a sheet of his notepad, and handed it to Willy.
Dusk became evening as the various family members began packing up and her parent’s driveway and front yard no longer resembled a parking lot. Willy headed back towards the city, at the posted speed limit. She made a short stop at an all hours liquor store, and the florist alongside it. The Jaguar coasted to a stop outside a small home in a middle-income area of the city. The garden was sparsely populated. A white Honda still displaying New York plates was parked in the driveway. Tall unmowed grass showed that the occupant spent little time “smelling the flowers”.
Willy stepped up and knocked on the front door, holding the bunch of red roses in front of her. Hanna was no longer in her uniform when she answered the door, Willy noted that Hanna’s eyes were china blue. She was dressed in a pair of cutoff jeans and cotton T-shirt with the red apple logo for New York emblazoned on the front. Her bare toes coated with coral nail varnish peeked up at Willy, giving the illusion of vulnerability.
Willy offered the blonde the flowers. “Peace offering,” she stated sincerely.
Hanna accepted the flowers. “Thank you, Deputy-Chief Smits’ daughter,” she answered levelly.
“I really am sorry, Hanna. I can call you Hanna, can’t I?” Willy asked.
Hanna shrugged as she answered, “I guess, although it still doesn’t make it right, thought. You abused the system. This is my first week on the job here. I have been the butt of so many jokes from everybody in the department since I got here. I thought you were just another part of my initiation,” she said grinning. Your sarcastic lil wave as I drove off…. ugh!” she grunted.
Willy followed her into the sitting room. Cardboard boxes were strewn unattended on the floor, some still unopened. It was obvious that Hanna had not gotten unpacked yet. She handed Hanna the roses and wine.
“Let me find a vase and put these in some water. Look in that box.” She pointed to an unopened box near the chair Willy was sitting on. You should find an opener and glasses in there, probably near the bottom.”
Hanna rummaged through a half empty carton, and extracted a simple glass vase for the roses. She walked through a door to the kitchen. Willy could hear her filling the vase from the faucet.
Willy found the glasses and opener in the box, and proceeded to open the wine. Hanna returned, arranging the roses in the vase as she walked. She placed the flowers on top of the TV set and settled onto the chesterfield across from the chair Willy was sitting on. Willy reached over and handed Hanna a glass of wine, then holding up her glass in a toast. “To you, Hanna, a new beginning and my humble apologies for abusing the system.”
They drank in silence.
“Do you like music?” Hanna asked, pointing to an expensive-looking black-faced stereo and huge box speakers. It’s all I managed to salvage from my divorce.” She slipped onto the floor in front of the stereo and selected a CD from a pile alongside the unit.
Soon strains of “Smoke rings in the dark” filled the room. “I love his slow sensual rhythm,” she said.
They sipped their wine and listened to the music, Hanna sitting cross legged in front of the stereo and Willy on the chair next to her. Their interpersonal ice began to thaw and they began to discuss their careers – the job, the city, crime and their lives. The level of wine slowly dropped until the last drop was deposited into Hanna’s glass. Hanna shrugged herself up onto her feet and weaved her way back into the kitchen. She returned with another three quarter filled bottle of wine she’d retrieved from the fridge.
The level of the second bottle dropped steadily until it too was empty. By this time both girls were more than a little tipsy and they had begun telling each other little secrets about their pasts. Hanna had admitted to Willy that she had not had sex with anybody since she had begun divorce proceedings from her ex-husband a New York lawyer who had “gotten it all, ‘ceptin this goddam stereo”, in the divorce settlement, six months ago. She had moved to ‘Vegas to begin again, she was twenty nine. So far she hadn’t found anyone interesting enough to consider a bed partner.
Willy admitted that she hadn’t had sex with anyone since she ended the relationship with her ex-husband ten years ago. Her problem was, because of her slow heartbeat, she’d never achieved an orgasm during intercourse with her husband or any man for that matter. The only way she could orgasm, was through lengthy sessions of masturbation, which left her emotionally and physically drained. Some mornings after “pleasuring herself” she was so sore “down there” it hardly seemed worth the effort. Her nickname in the department was “Chilly-Willy” because it seemed that she had no interest in any of her male colleagues.
Willy rose unsteadily to her feet, peering at her watch. “I really should be getting home,” she said.”I have to be on duty in little over five hours.”
“You can’t drive in that condition,” Hanna said, looking very official while sprawling barefoot on the floor in front of her stereo. “Gimme your keys,” she said holding out her hands.
“No way you’re taking my car away from me, Hanna. You tried that once already today,” Willy replied.
Hanna struggled to her feet, and walked to Willy who still was rummaging through her purse for the keys. “You cannot drive drunk, Willy. If you want, you can stay the night.” She pointed at the chesterfield. “You can spend the night on my couch, or you can sleep in the bedroom. It’s a big bed and I’m sure we’re both too drunk to fool around.”
Hanna led Willy to the bedroom. “I’ll set the alarm for six. That gives you time to drive home, shower and put on clean undies, brush your teeth and stuff.” She pushed Willy onto the bed, hastily pulling off her own T-shirt and jeans. She climbed onto the bed wearing only her panties, next to Willy, who was struggling out of her clothes, and flicked off the light.
Sometime during the night their bodies connected. Dawn started to spray warm desert sunshine into the darkened bedroom, while the two women slumbered in each other’s arms. Willy’s head nestled on Hanna’s shoulder, and Hanna had her arms wrapped around Willy, each hand resting on the taller girl’s breasts. Willy’s nipples had minds of their own and were throbbingly erect, thrusting into her palms. Unconsciously, Hanna bent downwards and kissed Willy’s neck.
Instantly both girls were awake!
Their eyes flew open as they hastily disengaged from each other. Hanna rolled off the bed. “I’ll get coffee. You’ll have time to get home and get ready for work,” she said, peering at Willy still sprawled on the bed. She couldn’t blot out the beauty of Willy’s eyes as the taller girl looked up at her, almost flaunting her taunt dark, hard nipples. She could still feel them pushing into her palms, that, and the warmth that Willy’s body had radiated.
With that, still clad only in her panties, she turned and walked to the kitchen and began rustling the coffee mugs and filters.
Willy stood up and, similarly clad only in her panties, silently followed Hanna to the kitchen.
She approached Hanna from the rear, her heart pounding. She reached for Hanna, whispering to herself, “Here goes nothing.” She snaked both her arms under Hanna’s arms and then upward, her warm hands reaching up and encompassing Hanna’s large warm breasts. She flattened herself against Hanna’s bare back, her own engorged nipples pressing into Hanna’s flesh. Her breath was coming in gasps from fear of rejection and fear of the unknown. She’d never ever even considered having sex with another woman. “What if Hanna starts screaming? Rejects my advances? Laughs at me? There are endless possibilities of things that’ll go wrong!” All these thoughts flashed through Willy’s mind as she committed herself and body to this beautiful woman.
Hanna sensed Willy coming up behind her and held her breath. “God what an idiot I am. She’s gonna freak out, damn me!”
When Willy’s hands enveloped her breasts, and she molded herself to her back, Hanna’s nipples responded instantly to the touch, warming and hardening, their areolae contracting as the nipples enlarged themselves and became rock hard, pressing themselves back into Willy’s palms. Willy’s mouth touched the soft silky nape of Hanna’s neck through her mussed blonde hair. Soft lips kissed her, then Willy’s tongue began lapping where she had just been kissed. It sent tiny tingles of pure ecstasy down Hanna’s spine. Automatically, heat and moisture began seeping between her legs.
Willy whispered, “You’ll have to help me, if you want this. I’ve never done this before.” Then she began to knead the breasts that filled each of her hands.
“Neither have I,” Hanna panted, her hands covered Willy’s, guiding her fingers and palms as she pressed her chest into those warm loving hands. Unconsciously, she pressed her ass backwards into Willy’s crotch, feeling the warmth radiating there. Wanting more, she released one of Willy’s hands and slid her hand into her panties. She slipped her forefinger over her clit, feeling it swell until she was sure it was at least three times its normal size! “It must be at least an inch long,” she thought.
Willy’s hand followed hers down, pushing and questing through the blonde pubic curls until her fingers slid over Hanna’s engorged clitoris. Willy’s fingers touched and circled her clit. This gentle touch overwhelmed Hanna. Her knees began to shake, her thighs trembled, an electrical tickle began deep in her belly, and her breath became gasps. Letting everything go, she grabbed the kitchen counter to keep standing. She arched her back as the first orgasm rocked her. She had always been quick to reach orgasm, but these last twenty seconds were a new world record. It didn’t end with the first wave, Willy’s fingers entered her, and, achingly slow, two fingers penised their way into her warm wetness. The gush of her juice surprised her, her body responded to the invasive fingers like nothing that she’d ever experienced before.
Unable to keep herself erect, Hanna slid to the kitchen floor. Holding her thighs almost unnaturally wide, she lewdly pumped her pussy upward onto Willy’s rigid fingers her breath had become grunts of pure pleasure. Her back arched off the floor, and her eyes screwed tightly shut. Soon she felt Willy’s wet warm mouth and tongue on her pussy! The feel of her face, her soft cheeks, pressed in between her thighs was amazing. As her fingers flew into Willy’s hair, her whole body gave one mighty shudder and began delivering the most mind-blowing orgasm she’d ever experienced.
Willy was intent on giving Hanna whatever she wanted. She’d followed her to the floor. The experience of her own frustration during her masturbation sessions gave her insight. She used every trick her own body had taught her to give Hanna an orgasm. Hanna’s body began to spasm rhythmically, her pussy enveloped her probing fingers. Liquid, squishy sounds gushed – sweet smelling lubricant emerged that pooled in Hanna’s blonde curls, and began running in rivulets down her thighs, Willy’s sensuality was now officially in overdrive. She lowered her face to meet the thrusts of Hanna’s pelvis, her tongue tentatively tasting at the escaping juices, until unable to control herself, she pressed her mouth as hard as she could against Hanna’s swollen lips alongside her flexing fingers and began to suck at the slick warm liquid Hanna’s pussy was creating just for her.
Hanna’s squeal as her orgasm overtook her frightened Willy and instinctively she stopped, pulling her fingers free of Hanna’s pussy with an audible ‘plop’ sound. But she was unable to move her head away. Hanna’s fingers had dug into Willy’s hair, keeping her face captive between her heaving thighs.
Finally, totally spent, Hanna, reclined on the kitchen floor. Still gasping, she released her captive. While caressing her shoulders and playing with an available ear, she groaned to the still kneeling Willy, “Boy, do you ever know how to cure a hang-over!”
Weeks and weeks later, at the station, Willy was sitting in a toilet stall, as she listened to the two women who were chatting while putting on their make-up in front of the mirror of the ladies change room.
“So, what do you think of the new girl?” one asked the other.
“I sneaked a look through her file when she transferred in from New York. She seems to be a good cop,” was the reply.
“So what’s the juice then? Tell me all,” the first woman demanded.
“She’s divorced; no kids; been in three New York precinct houses since she left the police academy. She also has two commendations – one for bravery, one for merit. Her previous Captain in New York recommended her for sergeant, but she was passed over because she had marital problems, then she asked to be transferred here to Vegas.”
“Marital problems, huh? So she screws around?”
“Can’t say – that part isn’t in her jacket.”
“So what is in the jacket?”
“Well, she did see a shrink, but it didn’t have anything to do with the job.”
“Is that all?”
“Pretty much.”
“Oh, then I know something you don’t.”
“What?”
“I hear she’s pretty tight with the chief’s daughter.”
“Who, Chilly-Willy?”
“Uh-huh, the ice princess.”
“Wooo! Sounds like serious lesbo action.”
“Oh come on now! All Chilly-Willy ever does is work. I bet she can’t remember who last touched her cunt.”
“Oh? Why is her fancy English car in front of Fields’ place every night for the last two months then, huh?”
“So Chilly-Willy bought a strap-on and they’re doing it, Big deal!”
“Come on, let’s get out there, and save the world.”
Willy heard the two gossip’s footsteps moving away and the door of the woman’s restroom opening.
Willy stood, flushed the bowl, smoothed down her skirt and opened the stall door. After washing her hands, she exited the washroom, and followed the two female uniform officers towards the duty desk.
She approached the desk sergeant, flashing her badge. “Hi, Bill,” she said. “I’m looking for Hanna Fields. She finished her shift about half an hour ago,” she stated.
Not bothering to look up, the balding overweight sergeant grunted something and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the squad room door behind him, and continued to study the papers in front of him.
Willy walked into the squad room and found Hanna at a desk, completing every cop’s worst nightmare – the paperwork that follows an arrest.
Hanna looked up and flashed a wide smile, her luminous blue eyes lighting up. “Hi, Willy. I’m just about done. Gimme five minutes, OK? I just need to finish this,” she said, pointing to the report she was working on, “and I’m finished for the day.” She grinned.
Willy nodded and sat opposite Hanna, who scribbled furiously, and finished the report by signing it with a flourish.
“All right then,” Hanna said, “Let’s give this to the D.S., then gimme a second to change into civvies, and we’re outta here.”
Hanna opened a desk drawer, took out and holstered her duty pistol, rose, and headed for the door, followed by Willy.
The white heat of the desert almost overwhelmed them as they stepped down from the stairs of the police station, into the sunlight. Almost simultaneously both woman reached instinctively for their sunglasses. Hanna’s were the mirrored Ray-bans “Aviator” that hid her wide expressive blue eyes. Willy’s were the less concealing Gucci wrap-around, that shaded her best feature, her luminous green eyes, and framed her classic cheekbones.
The two girls walked side by side along the pavement, their hands “almost” touching. They made a contrasting pair. Hanna at five-eleven, the taller of the two by two inches, had a body that turned heads wherever she went. Her normally below the shoulder length natural blonde hair was pulled back, severely in a “pony-tail”. She’d slipped into a white midriff tank-top, which displayed her flat stomach and cute belly button and showed her lush 36C breasts to their best advantage. The faded Levi denims she’d put on looked as though they were bought a size too small and had shrunk in the wash.
In contrast, Willy’s short, unruly dark hair was brushed carelessly back off her forehead. Simple little gold hoops pierced the lobes of her ears. A designer label crème blouse accentuated her shoulders without the aid of shoulder-pads; three of its buttons were open at her neck, displaying the outline of a pair of 32B cup breasts, without flaunting any inadequacy. Her narrow waist was cinched with a wide western leather belt and Navaho belt buckle. A gray-green skirt ended just above her knee, giving people who bothered to look a glimpse of well-developed thighs, calves and delicate ankles. Both women wore comfortable, though unfashionable, running shoes.
As they reached Willy’s ’63 racing-green E-type Jaguar, Willy unlocked the passenger door and held it open for Hanna, before moving to the driver’s door and slipping behind the wheel. She moved the car into the late afternoon traffic, heading towards Hanna’s house.
She described the conversation she overheard.
“So what? It’s exactly what we’re doing, Willy,” Hanna responded.
“But, I don’t own a strap-on, and we’re not lesbians,” Willy remonstrated.
“No we’re not, but we can get a strap-on,” Hanna responded. “Stop there,” she pointed to a vacant parking spot in front of a well known sex shop. “Lets get one there,” she demanded mischievously.
Willy guided the Jag into the parking place, locking the doors after they had exited.
They walked into the large sex shop, hand in hand. A Goth-like clerk complete with pale make-up, darkened eyes, drab dark-gray dress, blackened hair, spiked bracelets and collar, disengaged herself from a co-worker and the magazine they were avidly reading. “Can I help you ladies?” she asked.
Hanna blushed prettily. “Um, my friend is looking for a strap-on,” she said, pointing at Willy.
The clerk nodded knowingly, “Any particular model or size?” she asked.
This time Willy blushed. “Well no. Can you show us some?” she asked.
“They’re all there,” the clerk answered and pointed absently to a wall, whose shelves were laden with dozens of varieties of dongs and strap-ons.
Hanna giggled, “Holy shit, there’s hundreds!”
Willy whispered, “You choose. You’re going to be on the receiving end.”
Hanna and Willy walked along the isle, picking up various models, reading the deions or advertising that was printed on the packaging aloud to one and other. Finally, Hanna held up an 8-inch model she had taken off the shelf, and brazenly asked the bored clerk, “What’s this one like?”
“Ah,” said the Goth girl clerk, sagely. “Good choice. It comes complete with a harness and batteries. It has a vibrating, molded head, sculpted shaft and has some really neat accessories.”
“OK, “said Willy. “We’ll take it.”
The two women giggled all the way back to the car, the discretely wrapped parcel clutched safely in Hanna’s hands.
The conversation in the car was as light as the traffic was heavy. Amid sneak peeks and a lot of giggling, they arrived at Hanna’s suburban Las Vegas home.
Once inside, they fell into each other’s arms on the sofa, in the sitting room. Hanna’s arms snaked around Willy’s waist, unbuckling the belt and tugging at the skirt. Willy kissed Hanna, her tongue flicking at Hanna’s teeth and her lips sucking Hanna’s tongue. Furiously they tugged each other’s clothing off until they both sat amid piles of discarded clothing.
Willy’s mouth sucked lightly on Hanna’s neck, her wet warm tongue caressing the soft skin, her hands caressed Hanna’s waiting breasts. Teasing her nipples with her palms, she took the now heavy nipples between thumb and forefinger and pulled and pinched the nubbins until they glowed like ripe strawberries, their areolae shrinking as they crinkled.
Hanna had begun to pant. Instinctively her thighs had spread themselves as wide apart as possible and her back arched, inviting her lover to take her. Slowly, teasingly slow, Willy moved her head down across Hanna’s shoulder, then she dragged her tongue down the valley between Hanna’s breasts, across her belly. She stopped briefly to explore and probe Hanna’s belly button with her tongue before heading down lower through the Hanna’s course curly pubic hairs until she found the treasure she so desperately sought.
Willy’s mouth enveloped Hanna’s plump pussy. She sucked hard, drawing the wet warmth of Hanna’s lips into her mouth, her tongue pressed into Hanna like a tiny penis, its tip delving into the slit. She pressed her nose hard against Hanna’s clit, and began to shake her head from side to side, pressing and squishing Hanna’s engorged clit against her pelvis, at the same time making sucking noises as she slurped the lubricant Hanna’s pussy had begun to produce, just for her.
Hanna gasped, arching her back further, thighs twitching faster and faster as Willy’s nose ground and squished her now super-sensitive clit. An electrical tickle began to expand from the base of her spine, tiny bursts of pure pleasure flowed upward from her thighs. She screwed her eyes tightly shut in concentration, her breathing becoming ragged grunts.
Willy continued to make slurpy noises as she sucked at the juice that flowed freely from Hanna’s pussy. With her head buried in Hanna’s lap, Willy could feel the strong muscles in Hanna’s thighs contract with the building of an orgasm. Hanna’s knees finally locked, her thighs pressing hard against Willy’s ears, her fingers digging into her short hair, pressing her face deeper into her lap, the electrical waves of pleasure overtaking all sense of decorum.
Hanna began to squeal, “I love you, I love you, I love you, Willy, please, please,” followed by a final long drawn out “Yessssssssssssssss,” as the orgasm rocked her deep inside her belly and exploded with an ecstatic shuddering that took her breath away.
As her breathing slowly returned to normal, she opened her eyes and gave a mock sob, “Oh no, you forgot to use the strap-on,” she wailed.
“I love you too, my baby girl,” Willy answered, lifting her head and licking her fingers like a cat laps at a bowl of cream. “Relax. We’ve got all evening to play. We’ll use the strap-on after dinner.”
“Then I guess we’ve become lesbians, Willy,” Hanna answered.
Willy nodded. “Yes, my darling girl. I guess we have.” She signaled her joy with a blissful grin.
