The best part of sex, according to Patsy Mount, would always be the aftermath. Yes the growing intensity through foreplay, the act itself and the climax, they were all fantastic but the best would always be the end.
The moment when she would gently lie herself down half-on Delia, and allow her lover to lazily sling an arm over her shoulder as they pant heavily. Delia's cheeks would be flushed, her eyes closed and a small bite mark imprinted on the back of her left hand, where she bit down to prevent calling out.
After the panting their eyes would meet, they would grin at each other.
Only then, once they had reached a definitive end, would Patsy stop milking her partner and slip her fingers away. Delia's forehead would crinkle at the loss. A moments pause. Then a kiss. A kiss which was long, slow and sloppy.
On this occasion patsy would break it first, reaching behind her to pull the heavy quilt over their bodies. She shivered as the heat began to leave them. Delia tightened her grip, pulling Patsy closer to her, further atop her own body. Their sticky skin would struggle to slide but they would do it anyway. Needing more contact. Always.
They would lie in silence, holding each other as the shivered and allowed their breath to come back to them.
It was in these moments it all felt so right, so normal. In these moments, with her cheek resting in the valley between Delia's breasts she didn't feel she was broken. She didn't feel she was doing something wrong, or corrupt.
With Delia she was just a girl, a girl in love. And Delia was her lover.
She knew the moment would come when Delia would flip her onto her back and follow the same procedure patsy had done in reverse. When she thought back on these encounters she worried. In her upbringing a man and woman didn't connect in the same way, the man penetrated the woman, because of this it had taken Patsy a while to be submissive and vulnerable before her partner. Now, however, now it didn't matter.
Slowly Delia slid herself a little out of her grasp so she could look at Patsy.
Patsy felt her lover cup her cheek, lifting her eyes so they met. Delia crouched uncomfortable forwards, capturing Patsy's lips in a way that made her heart soar.
Delia's lips left her's with a muted pop. Her eyes and Patsy's didn't leave each other. Delia spoke.
"Thank you."
Patsy felt like sighing. Delia often said this, as though it wasn't something they should share the same joy through, something she did for the benefit of them both.
"Delia, I want to make love to you, I want to touch you, to feel your breasts, feel you squeeze my fingers inside your body. I have never felt such love, such closeness."
Delia reached a hand under her partner's head, reaching into her now tousled red hair.
" you're real," she whispered.
"eich bod yn hardd."
Delia laughed at Patsy's reply. Before they both dissolved into laughter for a few moments, ending it with a snatched kiss from Patsy.
Delia shook her head,
"Eich bod yn hardd'.
She repeated the Welsh sentence with a perfect accented pronunciation.
Patsy nodded, smirking, although her eyes remained sincere.
"That's what I meant."
She was well aware as she spoke that her hands had wandered to Delia's still hardened nipples. She grinned wickedly before giving one a twist. Delia's resounding groan was all the reward she could need, the sound going straight through her body before bursting into sparks in her groin like a firework.
"It's been a long nine months," Delia sighed. Her eyes were becoming once more hungry and dark.
It had been, it had been so long. Even with her own hands and closed eyes Patsy has never relieved the need for Delia's smell, her weight, the feeling of they're hip bones clunking. The accidental creaks of the mattress when things got too heated.
She had lost count of the times she had fallen asleep in frustrated tears at the missing piece in her heart.
Now she was back, she was real and climbing over Patsy's body to gently clasp her breast and lower herself so their hips would grind together, so their stomach's would touch, so she could bring Patsy's nipple to meet her lips. She kisses from there in quick pecks all the way to her mouth, easily slipping her tongue between obliging lips and deepening the kiss.
The second best part of sex, according to Patsy Mount, was round two.