"Dumb lesbian bitches!" she said, not making any effort to avoid their hearing her comment. Then she turned to Cathy and said, "Incidentally, thank you both. You've solved a mystery for me."They both looked at her, puzzled."Cath, it's the noises you make when Ken is fucking your ass off. You see, we were in a house in Minnesota that had thin walls or strange acoustics or something. Anyway, almost every night I would hear my mother crying out. It sounded like she was in terrible pain. Then in the morning I would see her at breakfast. Often she looked tired, but she always had the most glorious expression of happiness on her face."It was obvious to me that Dad was torturing her somehow. I even began to read the Marquis de Sade because I was sure Mom was a masochist. She had to be. How else could you explain the combination of the screams of pain at night during her torture with the look of bliss on her face in the morning?" When she smiled warmly, Cathy took her hand and held it. Her. Her hand began by gently rubbing circular motions around the upper part of her labia, over her clitoris. Kirsten watched with peeked interest at her actions. Julie then began to slide her fingers up and down, over her pussy lips. Her labia was soft, her lips were wet of her juices she had formed from watching Kirsten moments before.Kirsten shuffled herself towards the far end of the large bed, where she leaned back against the wooden frame. Her own lower half of her body was still exposed. She continued to watch Julie, whose hands rubbed back and forth across her own wet pussy. Kirsten then spread her own legs apart. She licked the palm of her own hand, and began lapping away at her own wet pussy. Rubbing it back and forth, up and down. Her own saliva on her palm was aligned with the juices of her wet pussy as she rubbed.Julie raised her head slightly, looking down to see Kirsten masturbating with her. Each end of the bed. A world apart it felt like, yet close enough to watch one.
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