Summary: Since Santana went to college, Brittany has been missing her a lot. She finds herself horny and alone with only one option.
Brittany sighs as she plops onto her bed tiredly. Everything about this year seems so much harder than last year. Now that she's Head Cheerio, she has to do so much work…and that Kitty girl who is out to get her spot doesn't help either.
Then there's the fact that she's still senior class president, and she has to fulfill all her duties, like making sure foreign policy and weekly revenue are all sorted out (or something like that).
Even Glee Club is hard. Now that Mike (and everyone else) has graduated, she's stuck choreographing all the group numbers by herself and even has more solos. Plus, school is harder than ever.
But the thing that makes her the most sad, tired, and depressed is Santana.
Well, not Santana herself, but the absence of her. She's more than just Brittany's girlfriend; she's her best friend, her rock, the love of her life. It's only been a few weeks, and Brittany already misses her terribly.
Of course, they still talk and Skype a lot, but scissoring on Skype is way different than scissoring in person. Brittany can't feel the skin-on-skin contact or Santana's wetness coating her own, can't kiss her full lips, can't feel Santana's nails digging into her skin as she comes screaming her name.
Just thinking about it makes Brittany horny. She misses her girlfriend so much, it's driving her crazy. Now that they're separated by what seems like millions of miles, Brittany feels like she can barely control herself. Now that she can feel the wetness pooling, she can't ignore it, and she chances a quick glance at her clock.
3:20.
She has plenty of time. Her parents won't get home until 6 PM, Lord Tubbington won't be back from his bike gang party until 7:23, and Santana won't call until after her cheerleading practice ends at 5 PM. Sure, Brittany could (and should) do her homework, but honestly, now that she's this aroused, there's no way she'll be able to concentrate on algebra.
Mind made up, Brittany sheds her cheer top and props some pillows against her headboard before leaning back into a comfortable position.
Starting off slowly, she places a hand on her center, over the barely-there skirt, and applies light pressure. Brittany bites her lip, because it already feels so good, and she's not even doing much.
Knowing it'll feel better if she draws this out, she keeps her touch light as she begins to rub in small circles, trying not to concentrate too hard on the way it makes her feel. As she settles into a nice, comfortable, slow rhythm, Brittany instantly starts to feel more relaxed. She really has been stressed out lately.
Suddenly remembering something, Brittany grabs her phone from her bedside table. Before Santana left, she compiled a photo album for Brittany, in case Brittany ever misses her.
The pictures start off relatively G-rated and sweet, like Santana sitting at a desk studying, Santana and Quinn goofing off, Santana cuddling with her on the couch. As Brittany continues to scroll, however, they get more and more risqué — Santana in a bathing suit, Santana stretching in her Cheerios outfit.
As her beautiful girlfriend explained, it is Brittany's own "personal porn." However, there is a catch: Santana made Brittany promise that she won't go through the whole thing unless she really needs it. For that reason, Brittany has never viewed all 110 photos in the album. Up until now, the furthest she has gotten is picture 69.
Now, however, Brittany is thinking that Santana won't mind if she goes to picture 70.
Brittany is still rubbing circles over her skirt, but finding herself getting restless, she peels off the pleated garment. Now, it's just her thin cotton underwear between her fingers and her sex. Her fingers brush against her clit as she swipes right on her phone screen.
Her breath hitches.
It's a picture of Santana pulling her shirt up, exposing her delicious abs and underboobs — but not her nipples — as she takes the picture of herself in a mirror. Desperately aroused by the teasing view of her girlfriend, Brittany feels her heartbeat quicken, and her fingers move faster on her clit.
10 more pictures, and Brittany is staring at her girlfriend's perfectly round tits and shaved pussy, and it literally makes her mouth water.
The next one makes Brittany drop her phone, because she needs to concentrate on not coming early. It's a close-up of two of Santana's fingers, buried deep in her own pussy. Brittany knows it's her, because the promise ring Brittany gave her is just barely visible.
She probably planned that.
Taking a moment to calm herself down, Brittany stops her movements and takes a couple deep breaths. After she can hear herself think again, and the throbbing all over her body isn't so erratic, she decides that she's ready for more and takes off her spanks.
Avoiding her sensitive nub, she runs her fingers through her slick folds, and damn, she's really wet.
"See what you do to me, San?" she thinks.
Brittany starts to palm her left breast under her bra — unsurprisingly, her nipples are rock hard and sensitive — and slowly inserts one finger into herself. She moans loudly as she imagines it's Santana's finger inside her instead. Again, she keeps her thrusts slow and shallow, making sure she doesn't orgasm too quickly.
But it still feels really good. Not Santana good, but it'll do.
Picking up her phone again, Brittany resumes scrolling through. Her breathing quickens as she starts to pick up the pace. While she wants to close her eyes in rapture, she wants to stare at the pictures on her phone more.
Brittany adds a finger and groans as she goes deeper than before, almost all the way in. It feels so good, but it hurts too, because her clit is just aching to be touched.
As she nears the end of what her phone has to offer, she begins to succumb to the pull in her stomach. By now, she is sweating profusely and pretty sure she's stained the sheets.
Then, at picture number 102, it happens.
Caller ID Santana Lopez pops up on the screen, replacing a picture of her girlfriend in extremely sexy lingerie with her legs spread and that smirk with a picture of her girlfriend smiling that smile — the lovestruck smile that's only meant for Brittany.
Brittany panics and looks at the time. It's only 4:10; Santana's practice shouldn't even be close to being over!
Quickly taking her fingers out of herself with a small gasp, Brittany shakily presses the answer button.
"H-hey San!" the blonde stutters slightly, hoping her girlfriend doesn't notice how raspy her voice is.
"Britt-Britt!" Santana exclaims brightly. "I've been waiting to hear your voice all day."
Her voice makes her clit twitch with want. Brittany clears her throat to try to get her voice back in control. "Me too, San. Not that I mind at all, but aren't you calling a little early?"
"Yeah, our coach let us have the day off. She's much nicer than Sue." She chuckles, and Brittany shudders as a jolt of arousal shoots through her. That laugh. Without even realizing it, her hand trails back to her dripping wet pussy. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"
Brittany stifles a moan as she thrusts back inside herself. "Yes, you did interrupt something, but I'm so fucking glad you did," she can't help but think to herself.
"No, of course not!" It's a wonder to herself how she was able to keep the tremble out of her voice. Honestly, Brittany doesn't know why she doesn't tell Santana what she's doing; the Latina would probably be happy to help…
Actually, Brittany does know why. It's because the thought of fucking herself as she talks to Santana unknowingly is just so fucking hot.
The thought makes Brittany just a little bit wetter, and she digs deeper inside herself, searching for more friction.
"Please tell me about your day," Brittany begs, because hearing Santana talk is even better than looking at pictures of her (though those were pretty great too). Brittany just really misses the sound of her voice.
"Well, I woke up and went to Human Anatomy, and pretty much just sat there and doodled pictures of Lord Tubbs smoking a joint. Then I went to U.S. History. I told you how much Mr. Richards hates me, because I don't need to listen to anything he says to pass the class, right? Anyway…"
Brittany starts to zone out as she's consumed by the feeling of her fingers thrusting in and out of herself. Her hips start to buck up in time with her thrusts.
"Brittany? Britt?" Santana calling her name brings Brittany out of her sexual haze, and she remembers that she's still on the phone with her girlfriend.
"Yeah?" Her voice is significantly lower, and she no longer has the strength to try to mask it.
"Were you listening to a word I was saying?" Santana doesn't sound angry. Actually, she sounds…
"Ummm…no?" Brittany learned a long time ago that it's useless to lie to Santana. She always sees right through her.
"And why is that?" she asks, with a certain smugness.
Uh-oh. Looks like Brittany's been caught.
"I was just…uh…umm," Brittany stutters, a little embarrassed.
"You were just fucking yourself listening to me talk," Santana deadpans.
Brittany's stomach twists deliciously at those words. "Yeah," she admits. "How did you—"
"Your heavy panting wasn't that subtle."
Oh.
"So how long have you been fucking herself and thinking of me, hmm?"
"Since I got home…"
"Oh yeah, baby? That's so hot," she rasps, and Brittany doesn't even try to hold back a groan. "Keep going. Touch yourself."
Brittany immediately complies, going painfully slow again. She has never been so grateful, yet so mad, that all the awesome sex with Santana has built up her stamina, because she wants to come so badly. Still, she knows it'll be worth it.
This is the best she's felt since Santana left.
"If you've been going for that long…I bet you're really close…" the brunette says hotly. At this point, Brittany knows she's touching herself too. She can hear it in her voice.
"Oh San…you have no idea."
"Were you looking at the pictures I gave you?" she pants into the phone.
"Ugh, yes!" Brittany says, out of breath. "You're so fucking hot, San." Brittany repositions the phone so she doesn't have to hold it, giving her a free hand to rub at her clit as she plunges her fingers in and out of herself.
"Oh God, Britt. You sound so hot right now. I'm already so close…"
The blonde's release gets even closer as she hears those words and goes harder and deeper. "Fuck! I miss you so much right now." She honestly doesn't know how she can still be talking, how any coherent thought can be in her head, especially when Santana moans like that.
"Me too…shit, I need you so bad. Imagine it's me that's fucking you. That it's my fingers thrusting into your tight, wet hole."
Brittany starts to moan uncontrollably at her words; she's losing herself quickly.
"Fuck, I can almost feel you clenching around me, Britt…I'm gonna come. I love you so fucking much."
"I love you too," Brittany barely manages to pant out. She can hear Santana's shitty dorm bed squeak rhythmically through the phone and moans loudly as she imagines the brunette bucking off the bed and into her hand — just like Brittany is doing now. "Come with me, Santana. Fuck, I…" Brittany squeezes her eyes tighter as she tries to hold on for her girlfriend. It's a losing battle.
Thankfully, Santana doesn't make Brittany wait.
"I'm gonna…f-fuck, BRITTANY!" Santana screams loudly as she comes, but it's drowned out by Brittany's own cries of release.
Brittany's orgasm hits her hard as her walls squeeze her barely thrusting fingers. The world blurs around her, and all Brittany can feel is her body spasming in absolute ecstasy. All she can hear are Santana's beautiful moans.
As Brittany comes down from her incredible high, her breathing gradually evens out, and she feels exhausted.
"San?" she whispers.
"Mmm?" she says, and Brittany knows she's just as tired and satisfied as she is.
"That was amazing. I came so hard…"
"Me too, Britt."
"But I wish you were here with me, S. I miss you so much." Even though Brittany just had the best orgasm she's ever gotten without Santana's body physically pleasuring her, she can't help but feel sad that she's not there.
"I miss you too, B. I hate not being with you."
"We'll see each other soon, right?"
"Yeah, because I'm quitting college and coming to be with you."
The blonde's eyes immediately shoot open. "What? No, San! You can't. Don't quit for me."
"But Brittany—"
"No buts," Brittany says sternly. "You're not quitting. I'm not going to let you. No matter how much I miss you."
"But I can't concentrate without you, without being able to touch you. I need you, Britt."
Her heart clenches. She feels the same way. "I know, San…but you can't give this up for me. You'll regret it forever—"
"I won't. I—"
"I'll regret it forever if I let you. Please, San," Brittany begs. "Just one more year, and we'll be able to be with each other. I just need to graduate from high school first. Please. Just…wait for me?"
"You know I'll wait for you forever, babe." Brittany smiles at that. "But you have to promise me one thing, B."
"What?"
"We have to do what we just did at least three times a week — if not more," Santana says quickly, and Brittany can't help but laugh.
Really, it doesn't sound like such a bad compromise.
And it might keep Brittany from missing her just a little bit less.