I hope everyone is staying safe and staying home!

This offering is inspired by a dream I had. As I worked it into a story, I realized I could turn it into a tale set during the current COVID 19 pandemic. I'm not sure if this is the first erotic story set in this quarantine or not, but I certainly hope you enjoy it.

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The Best We Can

a COVID 19 self-quarantine story

by Brenda McIntyre

for James

When the recommendation from the CDC came for all Americans to “shelter in place,” Angel and I found ourselves sharing a spacious home on the outskirts of town. We each had homes of our own, and boyfriends to go home to. But because of Angel’s job working with special needs adults and my classes at Parkside, renting the house made sense. Besides, the rental price for such a luxurious home was hard to pass up.

We made phone calls when the recommendation came. James (her boyfriend), Bruce (mine), Angel and I all agreed it was best for us to stay in the house. This was partly because Angel’s job was essential, but the fact that my car was likely to break down at any moment played a part, too.

There was an attraction between Angel and I from the moment we met. Neither of us considered ourselves lesbian, but we certainly had bisexual tendencies, and we had done some heavy petting well before the quarantine hit. More than mere heavy petting, actually. I had even spent an entire night in her bed, snuggled close to her, her arms around me.

The spring weather worked in our favor. With a little help from Bruce, we were able to set up a portable shower outside. When Angel came home, she would strip, tossing her clothes in a plastic garbage bag and shower herself. I would make sure one of her fluffy robes and at least one towel was hung on the wooden peg outside for her use. Then she could just bring the bag of clothes in and we’d launder them that night.

Whether it was boredom, romantic inspiration, or something else, I couldn’t say. But I found a few key items among our supplies and hatched a plan to surprise my quarantine roommate.

I was waiting in the immense living room. I heard her come in the back door, as always.  I heard her starting the washer in the mud room. I wondered if she could hear the smooth jazz I had playing softly.

She walked in, and I realized once again how gorgeous she is. I’m used to drawing attention when I enter a room. My double D bosom is hard to ignore. In fact, my breasts are the first thing (things?) people usually comment on when meeting me. (Why is that? Do they think I don’t know they’re there?) But Angel’s G-cups are even more attention-grabbing. She’s actually one of the few people who make me feel my breasts are normal-sized when she’s around. Tonight they were straining at the downy pink robe I had chosen for her, almost as if they had a life of their own and were threatening to open the robe from the inside, even if she protested. The robe was short enough to display her exquisite legs, too.

I could already see the look of surprise on her face. It wasn’t just the soft music. The dim lighting highlighted the scented candles I had placed throughout the house. She looked at me with wondrous incredulity, reminding me of a child seeing presents piled high on Christmas morning.

I had found a sheer lavender nightgown, one I had hung in the back of the closet when I realized it no longer fit. I was surprised and delighted to find out that morning that I had lost enough weight to wear it again.

I stepped toward Angel (who really does look like an angel, at least to me. Minus the wings), a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Welcome home, darling,” I purred.

“What’s this?” she asked, a smile breaking over her face like sunshine after a spring rain.

“I wanted to surprise you,” I answered, handing her a glass. “Welcome home.”

For a moment she was motionless, clearly happy, but still processing. At last she clinked her glass on the rim of mine.

“Thanks,” she smiled and took a sip.

“I’ve got the bath all ready,” I said, and she nearly spit out the champagne.

“Bath?”

“C’mon,” I urged gently, taking her arm.

I led her to the master bath, with its huge tub. We had joked about it when we moved in. “Who has a bathtub for four?” I had quipped.

I had candles burning here, too, and a Bluetooth speaker echoing the jazz I had paying throughout the house. I had drawn a hot bubble bath, and the suds sparkled in the candlelight invitingly. As Angel took in the sight, I stood behind her and untied the belt of her robe, sliding it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I wrapped my arms around her waist, my breasts pressed against her back, and kissed her neck softly.

“You went to a lot of trouble,” she said, turning her head toward me.

“Doing something for you is never trouble,” I assured her, nuzzling her neck.

She gently took my chin in her hand, lifting my face to hers, and kissed me full on the mouth. I closed my eyes as her tongue met mine. Angel’s kisses are exquisite, and this one was no exception.

After a long minute of kissing, Angel stood back, looking me over.

“You look amazing!” she said, her eyes sparkling.

I could feel the heat in my cheeks and knew I was blushing. Angel is the pretty one. I’m alright-looking, but I’m a little chubby (although Bruce calls it “curvy”).

Angel stepped close again. She kissed me again briefly, then pulled my nightgown over my head. I raised my arms, and despite the sensual quiet of the moment, my heart was racing.

“So beautiful,” Angel whispered, and I felt my blush deepen. She hefted my left breast in her hand, as if testing its weight. She bent close, her breath teasing my nipple in the moment before she pressed her lips to it.

I gasped as she suckled me. I stroked her hair, still damp from her shower outside.

My nipple grew hard in her mouth, and she flicked her tongue over it. Instinctively I pulled her closer.

She stopped, looking up at me briefly with her bright blue eyes before taking my other nipple into her mouth. Her fingers brushed against my sex, and I shivered. Her fingertip settled on my clit, rubbing in slow circles. I held her closer, my hips moving rhythmically.

She would  have gone further, but with a touch I gently reminded her of the bubble bath. She gestured for me to go in, but I took her arm and wordlessly insisted she go first. After all, I had put this evening together for her.

She settled into the water, and I slipped in behind her. I washed her back, even though she had showered.

She turned, facing me. The foam hid her breasts from me, which was somehow more arousing than if they had been visible. She took the pouf I had used to wash her back from me and carefully washed my breasts. She scooted closer and kissed me. Her leg went under mine as she scooted even closer.

Beneath the water, our pussies kissed. I shuddered, but my lover took me in her gentle embrace, moving her hips, rubbing our most intimate parts together.

I had never scissored sitting up. Yet here we were, arms around each other, our pussies grinding. She kissed me deeply, and I gave myself over to the sensations.

Her tongue was caressing my own when I pulled away. I had to! I was gasping and grinding...close to cumming! She kept grinding. We were both breathing heavily. My breathing turned to mewing, which gave way to moaning.

Suddenly I was cumming! Angel held me, still grinding as I squealed and shook.

When it subsided, she pulled me close, stroking my hair. She kissed me softly. Her pussy still rubbed against mine, but less insistently.

I wanted to bring her to orgasm, like she had done for me. But her pussy rubbing mine was light, just a little teasing for both of us. I cupped her breast, lifting it out of the water, above the suds, and licked a slow circle around her nipple. She purred and gently pulled my head to her bosom. I took her nipple into my mouth, sucking it gently. It grew erect between my lips.

She purred and cooed, still rubbing her sex against mine. I pinched her other nipple as I suckled her.

She pulled away gently, reaching for a towel as she stood. The water on her skin glistened in the candlelight, making her look like Aphrodite emerging from the sea.

“Let me dry you,” she whispered. “We can continue in bed.”

She didn’t specify her bed or mine, but I didn’t really care at that point. We toweled each other dry, taking time to kiss and lick any exposed flesh. My knees were weak.

We stood in the candlelight for a moment, admiring each other. Angel has a way of devouring me with her eyes, much like a child devours an ice cream cone. That look filled me with a renewed desire, a burning which, if not quenched, threatened to consume my very soul.

She took my hand and led me silently out of the bathroom. She led me through the living room, her ass cheeks clenching alternately as she walked.

I couldn’t wait. I stopped, giving her hand a gentle tug. She turned to face me. I threw my arm around her neck and kissed her deeply. She responded hungrily and I collapsed to the floor, pulling her on top of me. One arm around her neck, my other hand was already massaging her sex.

She kissed me eagerly, like it was the end of the world. I slipped a finger into her wet quim, and then a second. She moaned into my mouth, moving her hips, fucking my fingers.

Her fingers were on my sex, stroking my wet labia. She wriggled her fingers inside. We were both finger fucking each other. My pussy made little squishing sounds as she worked her fingers in and out, faster and faster. I arched my back, crying out as she brought me to another intense orgasm.

She pulled her fingers out and brought them to my mouth. We kissed with her fingers between our lips, both of us tasting my juices.

She was still moving her hips, still fucking my fingers. I rolled over on top of her, not taking my fingers from her dripping pussy. I slid down her body, kissing her breasts, her belly. She purred and cooed as I kissed lower still. I lapped at her love slit like a kitten, tasting her musky juices. She cooed, arching her back, her fingers entwining in my hair. I flicked my tongue over her clit.

“Fuck!” she gasped, grinding her hips faster.

I rubbed her nub with my thumb as I drove my tongue inside her. I bobbed my head, fucking her with my tongue. The flavor was intoxicating! I rubbed my own love button as I drove my tongue deep into her cunt. Again. And again!

She cried out, holding my head to her sex as she ground on my tongue. Her orgasm made her shudder, and a new wave of sex juices flooded my tongue.

I rolled onto my back. We lay there panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on our flesh. At last I felt her hand on my head. With a touch, she urged me to move beside her. I did, and as she embraced me I kissed her tenderly.

She must have carried me to her room as I slept. I woke in her bed. The candles had been responsibly extinguished, but the smooth jazz still played in the darkness. I rolled onto my side.

Her form was highlighted in the sliver of moonlight which peeked through the curtains. I watched her breasts rise and fall as she breathed. I reached out, stroking her cheek as she slept.

She purred and smiled.

We were both satisfied. Neither of us would call ourselves lesbian. We’d both rather be home with our boyfriends, loving them and their man parts. But we had found comfort and release in each other’s arms tonight. And we would again.

None of us knows how long this pandemic will last. But like everyone, Angel and I are doing the best we can.

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Like this story? My first-ever anthology of erotic short stories is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo.