Never Ever? by patricia51
(Sequel to my story "Never". Marianne has rebuilt her friendship with Olive. When the other girl is single again and presents Marianne with a near irresistible temptation can she resist her desire any more? Nope. Femslash. Olive/Marianne.)
"Olive, are you alright?"
While that seems like a perfectly ordinary and casual remark it was anything but that. In fact it was a pretty stupid question actually. I knew perfectly well that she wasn't and not just because she wasn't opening her door. But I still repeated it as I knocked again.
Giving up hope that she was going to answer I tried the doorknob. It turned under my hand. Opening the door a crack I peek in. Olive is sitting on the bed, staring out into space. I slip in and close the door before stopping dead in my tracks in surprise. Why in the world is she wearing that?
It's been six months since the finale of the Great Web Broadcast ended with her smile and sprinting off to be with Todd, leaving her camera running. As I had suspected, as I had KNOWN, when I summoned my courage to apologize to her and beg her pardon she had forgiven me. Forgiven me with a wonderful hug that I dreamed about for, well, I still do.
But I behaved. I was her friend and only her friend no matter how much I wanted it to be so much more. I kept myself from being jealous of Todd, of writhing in envy at what I imagined he would be doing with her when I wanted to be with her myself. Of course it's all almost laughable. I knew that Todd is everything that Micah wasn't and that includes sex. He'll wait. And besides, only confused images appear when I dream of Olive. I don't have the slightest idea what two women would do together in a forbidden romance.
For it is forbidden. I know that. But I manage to suppress that thought by sophistry. I tell myself that I'm just being her friend, that I never would cross the line from that. Of course her being totally devoted to Todd ensures that. And as long as I keep my sinful thoughts to myself, well, masturbation isn't THAT serious a sin even if I dream about a girl when I do it.
And then came the news. It was shocking when Rhiannon intercepted me leaving school one day to tell me that Todd had left. Left the country in fact. It didn't take long to get the details. I couldn't believe he had left, even if it turned out that because of a family tragedy he had not had any choice.
It took me even less time to make a beeline for Olive's house. Her mother welcomed me with a frown on her face. That worried me; she was always so upbeat and cheerful as was Olive's father. As was Olive. Usually. But not now I found out.
She was curled up in a ball on her bed. I sat down next to her and touched her shoulder. Without a word she rolled to me, uncurled and fell into my arms. I held her for what seemed forever, just rocking her and telling her it would be alright.
I felt awful for her. I really did. And I felt awful because I was reveling in being able to hold her, stroke her hair, be close to her. Does that make me a bad person? Is her misery actually bringing me happiness? No, I decide firmly. Yes I love feeling her in my arms, it's a dream come true (or half a dream because the full fantasy demands there are no clothes involved) but I feel so bad for her. I concentrate on one thing and one thing only, giving comfort to a friend and today I succeed at that.
That success, if you call it that, continues for several weeks. I protect Olive fiercely, as fiercely as I once persecuted her. And we grow close, confiding hopes and dreams to each other. All except one of course. I won't, can't, tell her about how I fell in love with her. And bit by bit the sparkle creeps back into her eyes.
Then today when I breeze in and find an empty house I don't think anything of it. I climb the stairs. We've gone way past knocking so I simply walk in and stop dead in my tracks.
"What are you wearing?" I stammer before I realize just what a stupid question I have asked. Everyone in school and a lot of other people recognize that outfit from the pep rally. I understand more than a thousand pictures of her were posted online in the first five minutes.
And oh my God does she look beautiful. As someone said in my hearing that day it proves that she has legs that go all the way up and then make an ass of themselves. An ass that peeked out of the back of the skin tight upper suit that forms to the most desirable body I have ever seen. And she's heading for the door in it, fishnet stockings, high heels and all. All she's missing is the feathered boa.
"What are you doing Olive?" I manage to ask, holding down an urge to just grab her and throw her on the bed.
"I got a boyfriend with this once. I can do it again."
I manage to intercept her as she's heading for the door. A hand on her arm and a little pressure and I guide her back to the bed she had sprung up from as I entered and get her to sit down there.
"Olive stop it. You know Todd didn't love you for your outfit." I catch myself before "And neither do I" nearly comes out aloud. Although she is even more irresistible than usual in it. "You don't need any outfit to get a guy and you know it."
I start for a nearby chair but now it's her turn to catch my arm with her hand. It slides down my arm and I feel Goosebumps forming where she touches me. Then her fingers lace with mine and tug until I sit down beside her. MY free arm goes around her shoulders and I give her a reassuring hug.
Olive is talking but I don't hear a word she's saying. I'm not sure she does either to be honest. That's good because all I have to do is make comforting sounds without engaging my mind. Heck that's all I can do all because all I can do is concentrate on is her beside me.
She's so beautiful. My eyes hungrily drink in the curves of her body. Her legs, her graceful neck, her white shoulders, the classic contours of her face all entice me. Then there are those places that her outfit hides from me but accentuates and the thought of Olive's secret places enspell me.
Maybe that's it. Maybe this is a spell of some sort, drawing me in, crumbling my defenses. Thank you God that her hand still clutches mine or I might try to touch her. Then she shifts and without any intention of doing so I find my hand on her leg with hers on top of mine. And I swear my fingers have a life of their own. The tips start to move in little circles and then my whole hand joins in.
I'm definitely rubbing her leg now. I should stop. I MUST stop. But it feels so nice. The nylon of her pantyhose is cool and her skin is warm. The contrast is delightful. My hand slips up and down, rubbing in circles with my palm while my fingers stretch out and explore. Her legs part further. Her eyes don't open but her lips part as her breathing speeds up. Those lips that I have wanted to kiss since I first became aware of my attraction to her. The lips that I've kissed in my dreams and when I turn out the lights and my hand creeps between my own legs.
If she would say something I might be able to break the spell that's come over me. But all she does is give a soft moan and that makes me even dizzier. She leans back, bracing herself on her hands and her legs part almost as if she is welcoming my wandering fingers.
I CAN'T move my hand any higher. The heat that seems to be coming from Olive is setting me on fire and the source is only inches away from my fingertips. Then I realize something else. Olive's hand that was so warm on mine has moved. In fact it has moved to where my own skirt seems to have ridden up. And just like my hand it is moving, caressing in small widening circles.
What is that sound? Oh dear Lord. Olive just moaned, softly and deep in her throat. She's looking at me and what I see in her eyes is what I have hoped for as well as been terrified of finding. But there's no turning back now as our locked eyes act like a magnetic force that draws us together, closer and closer, until our lips touch. Then part. And now we are kissing. No little girl pursed lips and eyes closed kisses. These are instantly deep open mouth passionate kisses and I can't stop it.
"No, no. no," I try to gasp. But I can hear myself and all that comes from my lips are moans of my own to match hers.
My hands slide up her body, feeling the heat between her legs for a moment. It mirrors the one across her back and when my hands join I have her encircled. Just as she does me, her arms around my waist and pulling us together.
Then we're falling sideways on to the bed as though we were one person. Olive's fingers are fumbling with the zipper of my dress. The moment it gives way she pushes it down, capturing my arms. I was frantically undoing her tight outfit and almost resented the interruption so I yanked my arms from the sleeves and recommenced my attack on her.
I get the straps down and pull the material down enough that her breasts are freed. I stare at them. I want them. Desperately. Just like I want every forbidden inch of this other girl. I yank down, having no idea how she got into this and even less of an idea on how to get her out.
The cloth slides down. She lifts her hips. I yank harder and fall back off the bed, barely catching myself as I do. The outfit comes down her hips and then down those beautiful legs. It hangs up on Olive's heels. Rather than try to work it over them I simply yank them both off and throw the tangle to the side.
At some time Olive undid my bra. I shake it loose and it follows her stuff. Automatically I cover my breasts with my arms, crossing them in front of me on modesty. But even as I do that my eyes travel up and down the shapely form in front of me. They linger between her legs, seeing the dark triangle of her womanhood through the fishnet pantyhose. Obviously panties were not an item of this outfit. My mouth actually begins to water at the sight.
Up my vision goes, over her flat stomach and then those perfect breasts. I've never seen any other girl's breasts before. Not directly. But none of the ones I glimpsed little flashes of could ever be as beautiful as Olive's.
Her legs are spread and there's room for me to kneel on the bed between them. I touch her stomach, my palms flat on her smooth skin. And I can't help it, I lean forward and my hands slip up, inch by inch until the tips of my fingers are touching her breasts. Then I have them in my hands and oh my God how they feel. Smooth and satin with the tips so hand they bore into the palms of my hands. But then mine are just as hard.
Olive looks up at me. Her hands go around my neck and she pulls me down to her. Down to her waiting body, down to her open mouth. And all I can think of is that she's mine. To hell with right and wrong, good and evil. What counts is that I love her and finally I am with her.
I marvel at the feel of her body against mine. Our kisses are so frantic and wild I can't believe it. Her hands run down my back and under my panties. I lift slightly until she can push them down and the kick frantically to get them off without losing any more contact with the girl of my dreams.
One thought though slows me, the same one I have pondered before. What do we do now? In all my dreams, my midnight fantasies I never knew exactly what would happen if this moment ever occurred. Imprecision was no problem when I lay alone at nights with Olive's face in my mind and her body against mine only in my imagination. My fingers were all I needed and they worked their wicked way without much direction from me. But now?
Should I touch her like I touch myself? Should I kiss and lick different places on her body? I had heard of doing that and it seemed like the thing to do. But I didn't know for sure. All I was certain of was that even though I was in top of her as though I was a guy I couldn't do what guys are supposed to do to women. To their wives if course I hastily added. Then Olive proved me wrong.
"Marianne," she moans between our kisses. Her arms tighten around me and then I can feel her legs lift in the air. For an instant I don't know what she is doing and then those marvelous, dreamy legs wrap around my hips. She thrusts UP with her body and a bolt of lightning shoots through me and I nearly scream. Oh Lord, Lord, LORD we CAN do it like that!
As she pushed against me I push against her. My hips are rocking, slapping myself against her. I set my knees and push up between her legs as well as down. Her legs tighten around me. Her fishnet pantyhose is so soaked by her arousal and mine that they are hardly any barrier to the grinding of our most sensitive places. The slight rasping the nylon does against my wide open sex is so sensual it almost hurts. Maybe it does and that just makes me wilder. I'm paying for my lust for another woman and it makes me even hotter.
Her nipples bore into my breasts and at the same time mine pierce the softness of hers. Our bodies are molded together, hips gyrating as we grind against each other. Sweet Jesus my body is passing the point of no return.
"Do me Marianne. Do Meeeeeeee!" she screams and I throw my full weight and strength against her. She arches, bucks and nearly throws me off as my entire world explodes again and again in a series of shocks that I never thought were possible. And she'd felt ones of her own too. I can tell. And when they end I collapse on her unable to move for minute after minute until finally I roll off her to one side.
But I hold on to her. And she holds me. And to hell with anything anyone has ever said, including me about this. Because when I whisper "I love you Olive" she whispers right back.
"I love you Marianne."
And that's all I will ever need to know. Not "Never" but "Forever".
Who says prayer doesn't work?
(The End)