Though she longed to abandon herself to the heady atmosphere that oozed from Jean's bedroom, Eileen pulled her hand away. She was teasing herself forcing herself to wait, letting the excitement build in her hot pulsing cunt.

"Ok Todd, darling!" she heard her young friend say. Jean's voice sounded thick, and Eileen realized at least part of that thickness was from the wine they had shared at dinner. Jean was still under the influence of an alcoholic high, both mental and physical. The wine had knocked down her inhibitions and made her body hungry for the kind of depraved attention she was now heaping upon it.

Listening to Jean cry for her husband awakened a pang of jealousy in Eileen. Though she had never made love to a woman, she felt an intense unexpected attraction to the younger woman as she watched her writhing in helpless surrender to her forbidden need. It irked her that Jean should be calling for Todd, when obviously it was her and not Todd who really cared for the blonde in her hour of greatest need. If Todd had really cared, he would never have let Jean come out West. He would have convinced her that he needed her. That he couldn't live without her.

Eileen knew that, in her vulnerable state, Jean would have yielded easily to such dramatic pleadings of love.

But Todd had not made them. Jean had come here, to Eileen's home. It was Eileen who would take care of her now.

The pretty brunette felt a strange surge of passion for the lovely woman who ground her cunt so wantonly down onto her fingers, who parted her thighs so recklessly to suck in the stroking steaming pleasure. She watched Jean's round full breasts heave on her chest and she felt an almost overwhelming desire to touch them, to fondle them, to kiss them.