Summary: Brittany is away on vacation with her family and sends Santana some photos of her in her new bikini.
From Britt: Santana! Look at my new bikini. You like? :)
"Jesus," Santana groans when she scrolls down to the photos that are attached to the text message she just received. "She's trying to kill me. I swear to God, she's trying to kill me."
The first photo was clearly taken by someone else. Brittany is lying on a beach towel, propped up on her elbows, with her long legs stretched out in front of her. She's wearing a gorgeous purple bikini that leaves virtually nothing to the imagination. It ties around the back of her neck, and Santana can see brightly-colored beads sitting against the tops of the cups of the bikini, teasing her with how they rest on the blonde's plump mounds. The skimpy bottoms tie at the sides, and there are more beads dangling at the ends of the ties.
Santana swallows hard and scrolls to the next one. This one was clearly taken by Britt herself. It is a slightly awkward angle, with the blonde girl lying on her back on her towel, one arm held up above her to take the photo. Santana breathes out slowly as she stares at the image. Brittany is so beautiful. She had clearly just gotten out of the water; her hair is wet and splayed out on the towel like a beautiful blonde halo around her head, droplets of water running down her chest, collecting between her breasts over the string that holds the cups of her bikini together. Her free hand rests on her chest, palm above her left breast and fingertips against her collarbone, her blue eyes squinting against the bright sun. She's smiling sweetly, just the barest hint of her white teeth showing.
Santana finally stops staring, and her phone rings just as she is about to tap out a reply. "Hello?" she answers.
"Hey!" comes that sweet, breezy voice on the other end of the line.
"Britt," Santana breathes happily.
"Did you like the photos? Isn't my bikini pretty?" Brittany asks excitedly.
Santana has to smile. Only Brittany can take photos that gorgeous, and that revealing, with no intention of turning her on. "I loved them, Britt. The second one was my favourite. You look so beautiful," she says shyly.
"Aw thanks, San. You're so cute," Brittany coos.
"I miss you, Britt," Santana says softly, hugging a pillow to her chest as she cradles the phone between her shoulder and her ear.
"I miss you too. I miss having cuddles with you, I miss touching your skin, I miss your smell, I miss the way you get goosebumps when I trail my fingertips up your arms. I miss the sounds you make when I kiss you and when I run my hands up your back and into your hair," Brittany begins innocently listing things, and Santana isn't sure if the blonde girl doesn't know the effect she's having on her, or if she knows perfectly well and is enjoying herself listening to Santana's convulsive swallowing. "I miss kissing down your jaw, down your neck to your collarbones. I love your collarbones. Did you know that?" Brittany pauses, and Santana hears yelling in the background. "Oh crap. San, I have to go now. Mom's taking my phone away, because it's family board game time. I love you, and I'll see you in one more sleep! Talk to you later. Bye!" Brittany makes kissing noises down the phone, and Santana scrunches her nose at the adorableness of the gesture.
"Bye Britt, I love you too." When she hears the dial tone, Santana hangs up and flops onto her back with an obnoxiously loud sigh. As if she didn't miss Brittany enough before. She misses the way Brittany touches her like she's the most precious thing on earth, the way Brittany's mouth caresses the skin of her lips, her cheeks, her hands. She misses the soft sighs that Brittany emits when Santana plays with her fingers, kissing all 10 tips in turn.
Santana curls up miserably. She just wants her Brittany home. She just wants to be close to her, but she can't…or can she? Santana flops onto her stomach, biting her lip in thought. It wouldn't be the same at all, but it would get her through one last lonely night before Brittany arrives home tomorrow…
Decision made, Santana stands to lock her door. Her parents aren't home and won't be for hours, but one can never be too careful. She strips out of her shorts and slips her bra out of her sleeve, leaving herself in just a pair of black cotton panties and a gray tee. After stripping her blankets back and making something of a nest out of her pillows at the top of her bed, she retrieves a box from her closet.
She considers the various objects in the box before selecting her favorite purple vibrator, laying it on the bed, and putting the box on the floor. Then, she climbs into bed and lays on her back, relaxing into her pillow nest. She wriggles a little to get herself comfortable before closing her eyes and sucking in some deep, calming breaths. She places a hand on her abs, simply massaging with short, gentle strokes as she summons an image of Brittany in her mind.
Tracing a gentle finger over her lips before inching it slowly along her jaw and down her neck, she imagines that her finger is her girlfriend's lips, following Brittany's beloved path to her collarbones. Santana sighs softly into the empty room as she gently rubs a fingertip over her collarbone, her mind once again substituting Brittany's soft lips for the digit. Santana's other hand begins to move higher on her belly, and as her arousal increases, her vivid imagination starts to run wild. In her head, every move she makes is no longer her own hands, but Brittany's hands and lips.
Santana slips the hand on her stomach under the hem of her shirt to cup a breast, feeling her nipples tighten almost painfully as she does so. She smiles as she arches her back, gripping the hem of her shirt and tugging it off over her head. Her nipples tighten further in the cool air of the room, and she brings both hands up to cover them, kneading softly as she imagines Brittany kissing a path between her breasts. Santana moans softly, pulling her hands back to brush the pads of her thumbs gently over her nipples, the way she likes. Her back arches of its own volition, and an image of Brittany's sparkling blue eyes fixed on her as the blonde's mouth lowers to capture a nipple between her teeth rises in front of Santana's eyes. Santana moans again and tugs at one nipple with her nails to try and mimic the sensation. Her back arches again, and she tries to slow her motions, tries to draw it out and tease the way Brittany always does.
She stills her hands and takes a few deep breaths before slowly beginning to toy with her breasts again, her excited moans turning into breathy sighs as images of Brittany mingled with images of Brittany touching her play through her head. She continues to tug and roll her nipples with one hand as she slowly inches her other hand down her stomach toward her panties. She scratches her nails gently over the skin below her belly button, feeling the delicious pressure coiling deep below.
"You like that, don't you? When I do that with my nails?"
Santana's hips shoot off the bed as the memory of Brittany's voice, husky with arousal and reverent and wonder-filled, echoes so vividly in her head it's like the blonde is in the room with her.
"Yes," she murmurs, unconsciously answering. She scratches her nails again, this time brushing the hem of her panties, and her whole upper body rolls at the sensation. "Ugh," Santana groans. "Britt," she pants, sliding her hand down to cup herself over her damp panties, her hips pressing up on their own. "Fuck." She tweaks her nipple with her right hand as she pulls her left back to slip it under the material of her panties, not wanting to rush but unable to wait anymore.
She traces a finger along her slit, and her brain immediately provides her with a vividly realistic memory of that sharp, delighted little gasp that Brittany always releases upon discovering just how wet Santana is for her. Santana strokes again, harder this time, her finger slipping easily between her folds and brushing over her clit. She shifts her legs wider apart and rolls her hips in rhythm with her stroking fingers, her other hand leaving her nipple and moving to push her panties down over her still-working hand. She kicks her panties off and groans as she switches from stroking back and forth to rubbing big, slow circles over her clit.
With her free hand, she reaches over and picks up the vibrator from beside her on the bed, switching it onto its lowest setting before bringing it between her legs. She transfers it to her left hand, sighing as she temporarily stops her motions and instead uses the slightly pulsating purple silicone to gently rub up and down her slit, gathering her wetness, until on one down stroke, the tip slips inside her ever so slightly. Santana's hips cant, but after faltering for a second, she continues her rhythmic strokes up and down, shortening them to allow herself to rub her clit while images of Brittany touching her fly through her head.
As she gets wetter and wetter, the vibrator encounters less and less friction, sliding further into her pussy on every down stroke. Finally, Santana can't take it anymore, and with one final stroke, she eases the slick silicone inside, groaning loudly as her walls stretch to accommodate it. She chokes out a whimper, taking in a deep breath as her hips rotate, trying to get used to the intrusion. Santana keeps the toy still for a few moments, giving herself time to adjust, before she starts to move it, a memory of Brittany hovering over her, three long fingers buried knuckle-deep in her wet pussy, at the forefront of her mind.
"Oh, oh, oh," Santana chants as she slowly strokes the vibrator in and out, temporarily giving up on rubbing at her clit in favor of gripping the sheets in her fist. She can already tell that it isn't going to take much. She shifts, bringing her right knee up to her chest and her right arm underneath her thigh to grip the vibrator. She returns to long, smooth strokes, this new position causing the tip to hit at a much better, deeper angle. She gasps as she moves the toy within herself, pressing it firmly against her g-spot. Before she knows it, Santana can feel the coil in her abdomen tightening.
She bites her lip, moving the vibrator deep inside herself, jaw falling slack once she flicks her thumb over a switch and the vibrations inside her double in speed, her hips almost bucking off the bed. The vibrations run through her whole body, causing her to shudder in pleasure. She allows her head to roll back on the sheets, neck bared, as she moves the toy faster, breathing out in low gasps from the back of her throat, matching the rhythm. Her free hand tightens around the sheets, even though her body is screaming for her to touch — anywhere, anything, just touch — but she refuses, wanting to make this last. She wants to come just from this, the heavy feeling of the toy inside her, wet and pulsing with her hips. "Yes," she sighs out, barely audible, as her hips begin to tremble with each short thrust.
She loves this, loves the way the toy feels inside her. It's almost as good as Brittany's fingers. Santana shudders as she presses the toy in deeper, her fingers pressing against her wet folds as she buries the whole length of the toy inside herself. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, the familiar coil of release building low in her stomach. "No," she whimpers, fighting the urge to come. She wants to drag it out, wants to keep this feeling as long as she can, because she knows once she comes, the feeling and the moment will be gone.
But her control is minimal, the image of Brittany's tits almost spilling out of that little bikini and her toned abs glistening in the sun, combined with this delicious feeling inside of her, stretching herself and letting the vibrations take over, accelerating her fall over the edge. It's good, it's so good that her eyes squeeze tight, her mouth falling open in a silent whine as her left hand finally flicks at her neglected clit. She gently rubs her clit with three fingertips in time with her thrusts.
As the pressure builds and her thrusts become erratic, Santana manages to run her thumb over the switch again, letting out a squeak as her eyes roll back in her head at the vibrations doubling in speed for a second time. Her hips rise and fall sharply, and her breath comes in heavy, uneven pants.
"Britt," she pants out softly as she feels herself nearing the edge. Santana slows her strokes again, trying to hold out just a little bit longer, but as she slows, she can't help but picture Brittany laying beside her, propped up on one elbow, with three long, pale fingers buried deep inside Santana, watching with lust-darkened blue eyes as the smaller girl writhes beneath her.
"Oh, oh, oh," she chants, and with a final flick of her clit and one last smooth thrust of the vibrator, pressing firmly against her g-spot, she's coming so hard that her back arches off the sheets, her gasps turning into short whimpers as she continues to rub her clit, the toy still on the highest speed.
She's panting as she tries to recover from her orgasm, fingers still massaging a highly oversensitive clit. Her body jerks as the last waves of her orgasm fade away, the buzzing of the vibrator still deep inside her body echoing through the room. Her breathing slows to a somewhat normal pace, her hand falling from her clit. Santana flicks her thumb over the switch of the vibrator, pulling the toy from her abused entrance, hissing a little as it slides out.
She sets the vibrator on her nightstand, bracing her hands on the mattress as she hoists herself up into a sitting position. She only sits up for a split second before a feeling she knows all too well shoots up her spine, the brunette letting out a whimper as she realizes one orgasm isn't going to be enough to soothe the urge she feels inside herself.
"Fuck," she mutters quietly, sitting up straighter to see if it's just a trick her mind is playing on her, but there it is again — that flare of want, sending sensations through her stomach down to her center. She's still so wet, and she can feel it running down her thigh, but instead of being disgusted, it just turns her on more. Without a second thought, she trails her fingers down to tease at her entrance once again, tapping the pads of her fingers where she's soaked. The moan Santana lets out is so loud she almost frightens herself, licking her lips as she slides in a finger, laying back down on the bed as she groans, her left hand running over toned abs and coming up to squeeze her breast and tease an already hard nipple, preparing herself for round two.
It frightens her a bit, how it only takes seconds for her to be turned on again. One finger turns to two as she slides her middle finger in, scissoring them even though she knows it's unnecessary. She whines as she crooks her fingers up, the tips rubbing against her g-spot, hips jerking as she rubs along her inner walls. A third finger slips in only long enough for Santana to feel the pleasure of the stretch, and then she's pulling her fingers out and reaching blindly for the toy she set on her nightstand.
She almost sighs in relief when her hand wraps around the vibrator, the rubber of the toy still slick with her arousal. Santana rolls over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her knees. One hand allows her to keep her balance as the other works back, pressing the blunt tip against her soaked entrance. She shudders as she rubs the toy over her opening, enjoying the feeling of the tease almost as much as she enjoys the feeling of the toy inside her. Santana bites her lip as the toy sinks in deep again, her thumb pushing against the switch, knocking it up to the highest level immediately. She cries out, biting her lip as the sound echoes through the room. Her hips sputter as the vibrator hums inside of her.
The feeling comes back even faster than before because of how sensitive she is, the cum from her previous orgasm still a little wet on her inner thighs. She moans, rocking back on the vibrator like it's all she needs, unable to hold back these small, choked sounds coming from her throat. Santana fists at the sheets with her left hand so she doesn't lose her grip, her eyes shut as she fucks herself on the vibrator, slow and hard, just how she likes it. She can feel the waves of her second orgasm slowly arriving, making her stomach shiver and her hips shudder, but she refuses once again to let go so easily, biting at her bottom lip when the feeling gets so intense that she feels like she might scream, the vibrations so strong on her g-spot that it almost hurts.
"Mm, fuck," Santana whimpers, and she opens her eyes, looking down to see where the dildo is sliding in and out of herself, speeding up her hand. She leans forward as much as she can, her head pressed against her nest of pillows as she moans, her left hand untangling from the sweaty sheets to play with her clit, dragging her index finger over the hard, sensitive nub.
Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. She feels her orgasm forming hot and low in her stomach, and she's once again conflicted with the need to come mixing with her desire to draw this out as long as she possibly can. Deciding on the latter, she stops the movement of her fingers on her clit.
Realizing the new position she's in is knocking her off-balance, Santana shifts so she's sitting back on her thighs, lifting herself up and down as she fucks herself with the vibrator. Her jaw falls slack, whimpers and moans clawing their way up her throat as the new position allows the toy to reach inside her deeper than before. Santana's eyes drift down to where she's quickly rubbing her clit, moaning as she takes it between her fingers and pinches.
The image of her manipulating her clit sparks another memory to the forefront of her mind; the picture of her doing this to Brittany, of the blonde's wet, pink flesh, of her girlfriend biting her lower lip in ecstasy, is almost enough to take Santana over the edge, driving her crazy. Santana moans, taking advantage of being able to be as loud as she wants. This angle is so much better, the vibrations so deep inside her that she loses control instantly, her breaths coming in hiccups as her head flies back once more. "Brittany!" she screams as she gives into the waves of pleasure rolling through her.
Santana feels her hips buckle and her insides clench as she rides the high. Her whole body shudders and trembles as she slowly comes down from her second orgasm, her muscles aching at having put forth so much effort in so little time. She lets her hand drop from the vibrator, the toy sliding out on its own, and places it on top of the box to deal with later. She shudders as her arousal drips down her thighs onto the sheets and tries to wipe it away, only to make more of a mess as it smears and mixes with the cum all over her hand.
Squeezing her eyes closed, Santana tries to regulate her still-heavy breathing, hands pressed lightly over the warm, slightly clammy skin of her belly. A small smile creeps across her lips as she entertains the thought of what Brittany would think if she knew what Santana had just done while thinking about her (not that she'll ever tell her). It makes her feel a little dirty, a little naughty in the best possible way.
Santana hauls herself into a sitting position, determined to take a shower before she lets herself fall asleep. After gathering her pajamas and underwear, she's just about to walk out of her room when her phone beeps, signifying a message. She flicks her thumb across the screen to open the text, and her jaw drops open so wide, she's sure it must be touching the ground.
From Britt: You just touched yourself to those photos, didn't you? Naughty Santana ;P