Then she moved her finger from around the front and stuck it up my asshole. It was hard and sticky, and I jumped. She pushed it and it hurt just a little, so I sucked my breath in. I’d never tell her to stop when she was hurting me because I liked the deep kisses that she gave me when she did. She always kissed me like that when she was hurting me somewhere.

We kissed deep and slow, and she kept working her finger deeper up my asshole. Every once in a while I would whimper. We stopped kissing and she buried her face in my neck and pressed me to her, moving herself into my pussy and rotating her hips. I creamed. She was hard. We twisted and rubbed; I got the lips of my cunt over her dick and stroked up and down, and rubbed up and down, streaming across my bud and covering her joint with cream. Her finger was still there, I don’t know how far in it was. She groaned.

She eased her finger out and chuckled; I felt the laugh in her throat. “Do you have any Vas’line?” she asked.

We had just a little, so I brought back the jar of bacon grease that was sitting on the stove to go with it.

She eased me around so that my back was to her. I felt her lips and tongue on the back of my neck. For a moment her hands cupped my breasts.

She told me to bend over and spread my legs as far apart as I could. I said she couldn’t, that it was too small. She said we’d manage. She wiped the grease on me.

So I did what I was told, and I told her to be careful. She dipped her finger a few times in my cunt and I shuddered.

I was spread so wide I could already feel the pain. I held my breath. She told me to relax.

I did, except for biting my lip when I felt the tip of her joint probing around where it shouldn’t. I told her again to be careful. I was scared, but the fear was part of what was making me sweat and tremble. She pushed and immediately I felt the impossibility of the whole thing. But it didn’t change anything.

She rubbed my clitoris again with her finger, just barely skimming it. I was already on the brink of coming. I opened wider and she pressed in more. It hurt.

A fraction of an inch by a fraction of an inch. She pushed and I gasped. “Relax. Relax, baby.” I felt her voice.

“Come on,” she whispered right in my ear, her voice more like wind or dry leaves.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” I said it every time I gasped.