“Lots of it.” Pat shifted to lie half over her, and felt Fen move a warm thigh so that their legs were entwined. She rubbed up against Fen’s hip, feeling the pleasure build at her centre as Fen pressed back against her, and angled her head so their mouths met again. Kissing, clutching, pushing urgently against one another, the join of Fen’s legs wet against her thigh. A moan rose in Pat’s throat and she had to clamp her lips shut against the urge to cry out.

She moved instead, pulling away to prop herself on her elbows. Fen looked up. “Mmm?”

“Mmm,” Pat agreed, and crawled backwards down the bed to settle herself between Fen’s legs.

“Mmm.”

Even Fen’s private hair was different, Pat reflected, as she stroked with an exploratory finger. Pat’s was fairish and thin, Fen’s far bushier, the hairs thick though still silky, a dark brown with hints of red in the candlelight. She parted the curls, clumping with damp, to reveal Fen’s sex, and wished to goodness she knew what a sophisticated woman might call those parts. The carelessly-speaking men back home said cunny, which always made her think of rabbits, but with Fen lying before her, thighs parted, somehow it didn’t seem so inappropriate. Maybe one just had to get used to it.

She slid her finger up and down, parting the folds of pink flesh. Fen was breathing hard, restraining her usual volubility. Pat wished she could squeal. She let her fingertip rest a second over Fen’s opening, then pushed it in.

Fen gave a tiny gasp. She was impossibly smooth and hot and slick against Pat’s skin. She slid her finger in further, astonished at herself and Fen and this glorious dream, saw Fen’s thigh muscles twitch.

She’d come down here for a reason. Pat kept her finger where it was, leaned in to the curly hair, and kissed Fen’s cunny.

“Oh.” That was a pant. “Yes please.”

Hair in the way. Pat parted the curls with her free hand, then carefully licked at the little nub of pleasure, and Fen went rigid. “Oh!”

“Shh,” Pat breathed against her.