Much to Frys surprise, theyd gone out to Gillman Rock. And theyd had a nice time. They were talked out on any serious topics, so Fry chatted amiably and French dozed.
They returned to Frenchs house later that night and retired to the bedroom. In all, Fry considered it a good day, that kept getting better.
French couldnt have agreed more. She was experiencing the most gentle massage shed ever had, and possibly the most arousing. She lay on her stomach with her head rested on her arms. Fry had climbed onto her back and lay along the length of her, kissing, sucking, but mostly licking at her shoulders and the back of her neck. It was a mix of relaxing, gentle and stimulating. Every now and again, Fry would reach down and brush her hands over Frenchs rear and hips to remind her that she hadnt lost focus of her initial intent. Fry could do that, she could lose focus. French had found it amusing that Fry could get so wrapped up in a particular physical sensation. But after the amusement, frustration set in pretty quickly.
French was all for foreplay, in theory. In practice, she was a positive goal-oriented, immediate gratification junky. Fry was into sensations of all kinds. It seemed like she could get as turned on by kissing Frenchs shoulder blades as she could by a lot of other things. But unlike French, who had to do something about it immediately, Fry seemed happy to bask in it. French had become familiar with the glassy-eyed look Fry got whenever she began to get carried away and the danger of her stalling, as French had come to see it, increased exponentially.
French, being a can do, strategic sort of person, figured out that if they had sex immediately, then she could let Fry do her thing. That had been the case earlier that night. Not that it wasnt making her wet to have a bundle of heated arousal moving all over her like that, its just that after an orgasm, it didnt make her near murderous with need.
You feel so good. Fry took a brief break, to compliment her host.
I havent forgotten this. Fry brushed a hand up along Frenchs thigh and hip.
Good thing too, Im about ready to turn you in for neglect.
You poor thing. Fry nipped at a convenient shoulder. Im terrible to you arent I?
No one would believe the abuse I put up with from you. And she meant it. Any one night stand shed ever had would have a hard time recognizing her behavior with Fry in bed. Was this the difference between using and liking your partner in sex?
No, I doubt they would. Fry sunk her teeth into Frenchs shoulder muscle, giving her a good, hard bite. Shed learned quickly the effect that got. In no time shed been flipped on her back and had a full sized, fully aroused, and extremely energetic chef on top of her.
French wasted no time, she parted Frys legs with her thigh and began to move against her in a smooth rhythm. Fry was a sucker for a good rhythm. Lets see how you like it for a change.
Fry moaned at the sensation. She reached forward to touch French, who backed away. Ah, ah. Hands to yourself. This is sensory deprivation time for you.
Youve got a funny idea of sensory deprivation. Fry moaned again as she felt French brush a hand up the outside of her thigh.
You havent even begun to suffer. Just you wait. French taunted her victim.
Who was Fry kidding? French knew her greatest weakness. Fry needed to touch with her hands. She hadnt realized how dangerous letting French know that so early on could be. She lay there, feeling the pressure build within her. She wasnt into pain, nor was she too proud to give in. Please.
I dont think so Missy. Were going to see exactly what you can take. For a brief, torturous moment, French slipped her hand between Frys thighs. She was soaked. The chefs determination faltered, but then, as was often the case with French, she was able to dig deep and bolster her resolve.
Fry did the only thing a person in her position could do. She began to touch herself. It wasnt a substitute she would have taken given the choice. It was an offensive manoeuvre.
Thats cheating. French complained.
You said, hands to yourself. Fry explained. She was pleased to see the look of incredulous consternation appear on the chefs face.
French hated being out maneuvered in any field. But if you were going to lose, there were worse ways to do it. She watched, fascinated as Frys hands wove patterns over her own abdomen and breasts. She was getting lost in her own sensations damn it, the woman was unstoppable. And Frys body wasnt the kind of thing you could sit idly by and watch be caressed. It was more of a hands on event.
French caved and leaned down to kiss the traitor. Within a millisecond Fry was attached to her, touching everywhere. Of course, thats when French lost track and started to move on instinct. Feeling Fry moving beneath her did things to her that she wasnt sure she understood. It had an effect on her sense of time. As in, hours later, shed realize that they hadnt eaten, or slept, or done anything else two bodies might need to do if they werent otherwise occupied.
And being in bed with Fry was an otherwise occupation she thought she could make a go of for a while. She felt incredible, and she knew how to move. That was important to French, who was big into movement.
Continued in Chapter 43