I woke to the feeling of a tongue lapping at my folds. Brigitte was awake, but it was not her tongue. She lay with her head propped up on her hand, watching, The memory of the previous night returned. Gretchen. The lovely Gretchen, who I'd never kissed in high school, despite a couple of eager efforts towards the same from the blonde haired beauty, the only acknowledged lesbian in school. Gretchen was kissing me now, but they weren't on the lips, at least, not THOSE lips. My other lips, currently moist with arousal, enjoying the facile muscle probing my cleft.

Brigitte had noticed my awakening immediately and smiled. Her hand...