Her thin t-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to her breasts, nipples visible through the white cotton. She looked sexual; wound up and desperate. �...If you don’t want to stroke it, you can slap it instead.” he'd said.She'd whimpered. “Do it, baby.”She'd done it and as she relished in the memory, Olive did it again. Opening her legs, she raised her hand and let her trembling fingers slap down against her wet, swollen pussy. It stung. Her legs tried to close but she forced herself to keep them. ”“Good morning Steve. Thanks for last night. I didn’t want to go home and cry in my room alone. You made me feel like someone cared ... as if someone loved me.”Beth put her arms around me and kissed me. I put my arms around her and pulled her on top of me. We stopped kissing and Beth was smiling down at me. Her hair was messy, her mascara ran, and there may even be a little drool on her chin. She was beautiful.“So what do you say, Steve? Do you want to help me decide if I am still a lesbian?”. More

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