Try Tribadism

Lina did not knock. The door was unlocked, just as she expected, and she stepped inside with a quiet confidence that had long since settled into her bones. Betty was there, waiting in the dim amber glow of the softly humming lamps, watching her. Always watching.

Lina exhaled slowly, letting the tension of the outside world peel away like a veil slipping from her shoulders. There was no preamble, no hesitation. Her dress pooled at her feet, a silken ghost discarded without ceremony. She was naked before Betty had the chance to blink.

Betty, perched on the edge of her bed, did not react beyond the slow, deliberate tilt of her head, her sharp, analytical eyes tracing every line of Lina's exposed form. Lina felt it like a caress, the way Betty studied her, absorbing the way the low light made her skin seem luminous, how her freckles became a constellation scattered across pale flesh.

"I want to try this," Lina murmured, stepping closer. Her voice was low, reverent, thick with something Betty recognized but did not yet name.

Betty's lips barely parted before Lina was straddling her lap, pressing against her with a kind of hunger that made Betty's breath stutter in her throat. She had done this before--once, twice--before realizing it was not for her. But for Lina, she would try again.

Lina guided her down onto the bed, their limbs weaving together like figures in an Escher painting, lines blurring, breath mingling. She felt fevered, weightless, caught in the undertow of something vast and inescapable.

And then, it happened.

A sharp inhale, the shift of a universe, the perfect alignment of stars and skin. Their bodies met--not just the slick, insistent press of heat, but something deeper, something more than flesh. The moment their centers connected, Lina's mouth fell open, a silent gasp swallowed by the space between them.

Betty's fingers dug into Lina's hips, unprepared for the sensation, unprepared for the way it felt right this time, for the way Lina's softness folded into her, for the undeniable truth of it. The friction was slow, deliberate, a gliding dance of silk and fire, of whispered exhales and stifled cries.

Lina's head tipped back, lost, undone, as if Betty had unlocked something inside her, something shimmering and untethered. And Betty, who had never thought much of this act before, found herself mesmerized by the way Lina moved, the way she let herself be consumed by it.

Their rhythm became something sacred, a private pulse in the quiet of the night. Time fractured, stretched, collapsed in on itself. Betty's control wavered; she felt her own pulse quicken, her own breath catch, her own body surrender to the weight of Lina's desire.

Then Lina's hands were in her hair, tugging, pulling, grounding her. Their foreheads touched, lips grazing in a kiss that was more breath than pressure, more prayer than promise.

The moment reached its breaking point, not in an explosion, but in a slow unraveling, a collapse into something formless and warm. A breath held, then released. A shudder that echoed between them.

Betty, spent and stunned, let her fingers trace the curve of Lina's jaw, her expression unreadable but her eyes soft, tender. Lina smiled lazily, her lips red, her breath still uneven.

"You liked this," Lina whispered, and there was something victorious in her tone, something smug, something impossibly sweet.

Betty swallowed, lips parting as if to deny it, but then--

"Yes."

It was the truth, and the truth tasted better on her tongue than she ever thought it would.

Lina lay curled in Betty's arms, the warmth of their bodies still humming between them. Her mind drifted, carried by the quiet sound of Betty's breath, the steady rise and fall of her chest. The weight of the night, the sensations still rippling through her, the absolute presence of Betty--all of it pressed into her, filled her until she felt the edges of herself blur.

Her eyelids fluttered. The world around her softened, melted, and then--

She fell.

She fell into a dream of love.

In the dream, the air shimmered with golden light, a world woven from warmth and whispered promises. Betty's hands, impossibly soft, traced the contours of Lina's body as if mapping the constellations of her freckles. The touch was endless, reverent, each caress painting something unseen, something felt only in the deepest, most secret parts of her soul.

They danced without moving, their bodies floating through a world that was theirs alone. The space between them hummed, charged with an energy that existed beyond the physical. Lina breathed in, and she tasted devotion. She exhaled, and she felt eternity pressing against her skin.

The dream cradled her, carried her, wrapped her in an embrace more profound than words could capture. Love was not a thought, nor a concept--it was tangible, pulsing in the very air, a presence so absolute it blurred the lines of self and other.

Lina reached out, fingertips grazing Betty's lips, and the dream dissolved into warmth, into peace, into the quiet certainty of belonging.

And then she slept, weightless in Betty's arms, love woven into the very fabric of her dreams.