Raspberry Jam

"So, are you going to marry him then?"

"I reckon so."

"Even if I..." she reached behind, wrenching her eyes away from the dark orbs she loved to get lost within. Impatiently she swept a swathe of red sand over a bold line of ants intoxicated by the sweet smell of the raspberry jam. Undeterred by this setback the ants resumed their journey marching over the new mountains set in their path. Ignoring them she had already hooked a fingerful of jam and slathered it around her beloved's rosy areola. Bending over she licked the jam off, swirling her tongue over and around the red bud feeling it stand to attention under her careful ministrations as she pulled and nipped at it gently. Her paramour arched under her and cried out in ecstasy.

"Who do you think of when you touch yourself?" Rachel panted, her body aflame with longing.

Marilla leant down to her ear, feeling the fine hair brush against her lips like velvet, "you."

"And what am I doing?"

"This," she murmured as her fingers languidly traced the circumference of Rachel's breasts in a long map; the white curve of Marilla's bottom unseen by all except a sole gull soaring the updraft high above them.

They lay in a secret hollow nestled in their favourite russet red sand dunes behind a beach a scant mile or so away from home. Clothes were strewn around and under them; discarded petticoats snagged on olive green bushes; corsets, once longed for as a sign of their impending adulthood, now recognised for the instruments of torture they were, flung as far away as possible; chemises lay crumpled under their backs in a scant attempt to protect their backs from the burning hot sand.

"Why do you even look at boys, don't you like me better?" Marilla paused in her investigation to pose her question.

"I'll always love you; you know that, but girls can't live together it's not allowed," Rachel replied sadly. She pulled Marilla's hand down to her lower belly impatiently, longing for their foreplay to be over and for her friend to attend to her increasingly urgent needs.

"Yes, so the girls are around here someplace, I've seen them rush down here and then disappear," a deep voice said far too close by.

Marilla and Rachel froze then quickly rushed to reclaim their clothes. When a few minutes later an unwelcome dark head popped over the rim of their hollow, they were sitting demurely on the sand doing up their laces.

"Well it makes sense doesn't it? Now that Thomas has passed on, Rachel will be lonely up at Lynde Hollow. She and old Marilla Cuthbert have always rubbed along more or less. This way Anne can go off to Redmond without a backward glance."

"And Rachel can help look after the twins. I hear young Davy is a real tearaway, did you hear about his latest exploit…" The voices of the two gossips faded as the women walked out of the church. Marilla and Rachel smirked at each other across the aisle.

Rachel pointed out to anyone who was interested that they had separate kitchens and everyone assumed separate bedrooms. Well of course they did; at least Rachel kept her clothes in a separate room to keep up appearances. But no one guessed the truth that every night around nine pm after the twins had gone to bed, Mrs Rachel would creep up the stairs, holding the skirt of her nightgown scrunched in one hand.

Rachel came to Marilla's room on a warm night after the sort of breathless hot day when sweat trickled down cleavages with barely a zephyr of breeze to provide relief. As they sat outside fanning themselves Marilla glanced across at Rachel just in time to watch a bead of sweat trickle from behind her ear down to the depths below her collar. Her crotch ached as she pictured how she might deal with Rachel's salt encrusted body later that night.

"...n I, please Marilla?" Davy skidded to a halt in front of her, hopping up and down on his toes in rapt anticipation.

Marilla turned to him slowly, unwilling to take her eyes off Rachel's scarlet face. "Pardon me?"

Davy took a breath and said as slowly as he could manage, "Milty's going down to the pond, may I join him please, Marilla? Plleeeaaasssee?"

The whole world felt as though it was taking a big breath before the rain descended, "no you may not. It's about to storm. You could come to harm if lightening strikes the pond. You can make do with a bucket of well water over your head today Davy."

"Awww Marilla," she nearly wavered at the sight of his crestfallen face, but a far off rumble of thunder told her she'd made the right decision.

After the storm and a little later than usual Rachel tip-toed into Marilla's room a jar of jam in one hand.

Marilla laughed at the sight remembering that far off summer's day, "oh, how vexed Mama was."

"Hm?" Rachel asked as she placed the jar on the bedside table then laid her dressing gown neatly over the back of the chair. This night they had all the time in the world.

"We left the top off the jam remember and the ants got into it. I recall how she cried at me for my inattentiveness."

"We were very attentive if I remember correctly," Rachel said as she stepped out from her puddled nightgown.

"Mm," sighed Marilla as she pulled the sheet back to allow her voluptuous lover into the bed. "But not to the jam."

"No, not to the jam," giggled Rachel before she covered Marilla's mouth with her own, slipping her tongue between soft lips and swirling it around the hot depths within.

The tangy jam mingled deliciously with the salt on Rachel's nipples that night, creating such a delicious taste sensation that Marilla longed for more sultry hot days.