No more arguing

“Martha…” Demina says quietly, lying beside Martha on the dark leather sofa, still not dressed

“Martha…” Demina says quietly, lying beside Martha on the dark leather sofa, still not dressed. Martha shifts uncomfortably.

“Yeah?” she asks, moving her brown hair from her face to look at her girlfriend.

“Do you remember when we were younger? When I used to always film you?” Demina wrapped her arms around Martha’s bare waist.

“W…well yeah… I don’t think anybody could forget that,” she said, blushing furiously. “U…uh, Demina-   …” she asks nervously, twisting her hair. Demina looks at her expectantly, taking one of her hands. “Y… you know I’ve always wanted a baby… I’ve been thinking… m…maybe one of us could… could have a…. a… s…sex    change?” she whimpers, desperately hoping Demina will agree. “B… but… why not you?!” Demina stutters, shocked. She loves her femininity. Martha burns red, “Because if I do… my magic won’t listen to me!” she pleads, but Demina is adamant. “Use your magic to make yourself pregnant then!” she is almost pleading with her; but Martha will not be won around. “Why do we always have to do it your way!” she cries out, jumping up, bare breasts bouncing. She is on the verge of tears. “Why can’t we ever decide on something that works both ways?” she gathers her clothes up from the floor, and dresses herself.

Martha rushes outside, tears of anger and sadness pouring down her face, mingling with the midnight rain. She doesn’t care if she gets soaked. Her pale pink work-blouse is already clinging to her curves.

‘ Why does this always happen?! Why do we always have to fucking argue!? Why!? It’s always my fault! I wish it wasn’t! I hate it! Why do I have to be so selfish!? Why does she have to be picky?! God I fucking hate this!’ She thinks to herself, slowly walking down the pavement, kicking litter and rubbish in fury, as she went. Suddenly, she reached the cherry-blossom tree where she and Demina had first admitted to each other, and without warning, her silent tears became loud, hurting sobs. She sank to the floor, the mud caking her, screaming out her pain, and she must’ve laid there for an hour before her tears dried away.

Martha lifted her head, her throat raw from wailing. She was too exhausted to stay here. Slowly, she stood up, and began to slowly walk back, the way she came. She could feel the texture of dry tears on her cheeks and the wet mud and rain down her chest, some even in her bra. Crying isn’t going to solve anything… she decided. I guess I’m just going to have to sort this out… And go apologize to Demina-   …

Soon after, she reached the house, to find the front door open. She could hear Demina’s muffled wailing, as if she was crying into a pillow. “Demina-   ?” Martha called, walking through the door. She saw Demina lying there, dressed, on the sofa. Demina looked up to see her girlfriend standing in front of her, holding a flower.

“I… I’ve come to say sorry…” Martha said, lifting up the flower in front of Demina. “I’ve been so selfish… I shouldn’t have said all those things I said…” Martha’s voice crackled, as if she was about to cry again. Demina gratefully took the flower and rested it on the mantelpiece, then closed Martha in a tight hug. “It’s fine Martha-   …” she stroked Martha’s cheek, and felt her stiffen and shiver. Demina pulled away and laughed. The mud covering Martha was now also covering her. With no warning, Demina grabbed the collar of Martha’s blouse and popped the buttons open; one by one… with one kiss, Martha pushed Demina down onto the sofa, so that she was lying on top of her, her muddy, wet, open blouse shoving her black lacy bra. With shaking hands, Demina gently pushed Martha’s top off and slid her hand inside her bra, and the satisfying sound of a quiet moan reverberates through the quiet room. With more confidence, Demina tugs the bra off of Martha’s shoulders and gently runs her tongue across her breasts, making the small moan escalate to a loud scream.

“Ah… uhhh… Demina-   …” Martha moans, grinding her hips down into Demina’s. Martha gently pushes Demina’s tongue back in and holds her mouth shut, pushing pillows under her. She gently eases away Demina’s skirt and sees that her pale yellow knickers are wet, but not as much as Martha wants. She kneads her fabricked opening with her knuckles and smiles in satisfaction as another gush wetted her knickers.

“Aahhhh… Martha-   ! Uhhh…” she moans, grabbing Martha’s arm. Demina settles down on the sofa, the pillows propping up her hips as Martha traces around her, and then slowly dips her tongue inside her. Demina moans deeply, tightening her grip on Martha’s arm, digging her nails in, shifting around and screaming out in ecstasy as Martha begins to provoke a reaction from her inside, and the liquid begins to pour out of her…

Demina decides she can’t take much more. She pulls away from Martha and pins her down desperately tugging her own top off. Martha smiles, knowing that it’s time for Demina to take command. She closes her eyes and leans back as she feels Demina’s cold hands tug her trousers and knickers away, leaving her bare under the heavy-breathing girl. But se jumps as she feels something enter her, and sitting up she sees Demina furiously pumping her fingers in and out of her.

There was no denying it for Martha now. She would be climaxing soon.

Demina kept pumping, even as Martha screamed out her name again and again, her breathing coming up short and loud moans escaping her mouth. She didn’t stop until the liquid pooled out and Demina licked her fingers, and Martha screamed out in pleasure, flicking her tongue across Demina’s rock-hard nipples. Suddenly, without any notice, and quicker than normal, they climaxed together, collapsing and falling off the sofa onto the floor.

Martha gently moved a few strands of lilac hair away from Demina’s face, and curls up closer to her.

“I’ve made a decision,” Demina sighs sleepily, yawning. “Let’s both have IVF. That way,” she pulls her hair behind her back. “WE can keep our femininity and have what you need.” Martha smiles and tears of happiness rolls down her cheeks and she buries her head in the crook of her girlfriend’s neck. “Thank you… Demina-   , I love you…”