Squire’s Isle Created by Geonn Cannon

Terminology Redefined

Summary: Patricia mentions an interesting factoid to her wife.

They were in bed, Patricia’s hand resting on the new foothill of Jill’s stomach, kissing idly as neither had decided if they were too tired to have sex. Jill was dealing with the pregnancy getting into full swing while, at the same time, bracing for end-of-the-school-year stress. She still didn’t know if she would return to school when it started again or if she’d take the first half of the year off to have the baby. They had substitutes who could fill in for her, but the thought of all that free time between June and December made her antsy.

Patricia had finally gotten home at eight after a long day of back-and-forth with the mayors of other towns in their little archipelago. She had put together something called the Washington Aquatic Transport Equal Rights (WATER) Proposal that would ensure all the islands received equal attention from the Washington State ferries that carried people back and forth to the mainland. During the summer months, Squire’s Isle travelers received precedence due to the sheer number of tourists. Patricia wanted to make sure the other islands didn’t suffer as a result, but at the moment it was like herding cats.

But now, in their bedroom, kissing and idly stroking each other, they both dug down deep for any reserves of energy they might have left. Jill was in a sheer nightie, evidence that a seduction had been planned before exhaustion set in, and Patricia was in a thin-strapped top and panties. She shifted position and straddled Jill’s leg, scooting forward until her thigh was nestled between Jill’s. Jill put a hand on Patricia’s shoulder and sat up, her belly like a pillow between them as Patricia gently lowered her onto the pillow and began to thrust.

Jill stroked Patricia’s arms and stared up at her. “I almost masturbated before you got home.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jill grinned. “I would still have soldiered on.” She rubbed herself against Patricia’s thigh. “But I’m really glad you’re up for it. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“I thought I felt you.”

Jill leaned in and kissed her wife, and the bed protested quietly as they moved against each other.

“Although I do think the idea of you touching yourself is very,” she pecked Jill’s lips, “very,” she slipped her tongue across them, “sexy.”


“Mm-hmm.” Her tongue slipped into Jill’s mouth and she began to move faster. Suddenly she pulled away from the kiss and laughed. “Oh, God.”

“What?” Jill was breathless, her hands on Patricia’s ass to guide her.

“Nothing, just… before I met you, when I’d masturbate, I called it jilling off.” She chuckled. “I’d lock the bathroom door, make myself a bubble bath, and jill. And now…”

Jill smiled. “It’s like you knew.”

“Yeah…” She kissed Jill, digging her knees into the mattress to increase her thrusting. “But I much prefer this kind of Jilling.”

“Me too.” She pulled one of Jill’s hands down and moved it between them. She slid her leg back, putting their hands against Jill’s sex, and began to guide her fingers.

“Jill for me, Jill,” she whispered. Jill laughed and then rolled her head back, letting Patricia guide her fingers. “I love you.” She moved her lips to Jill’s ear. “Whatever I’m going through and whatever stress I have, even when we’re fighting, I know that I can count on you to be in my corner. And that makes the difference, Jill. In everything. I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Jill’s climax hit her on the second iteration, pressing her face against Patricia’s shoulder. She bent her knee and pressed her thigh between Patricia’s legs, and Patricia moved against it in a slow circular pattern. They clung to each other in the middle of the bed, Patricia’s back hunched and Jill’s head down as if they were riding out a storm. Finally Jill turned her head and licked Patricia’s chest, kissed up to her neck, and pulled her hair just hard enough to line their lips up for a kiss.

“Everything you said,” Jill whispered against Patricia’s mouth. “Same goes.”

Patricia smiled and stroked her wife’s hair. Eventually they pulled away from each other, curling up into their standard positions – Patricia as the big spoon with her hands on Jill’s stomach. Patricia kissed Jill’s shoulder through the sheer material of her nightie and let herself drift off with a smile on her lips, thinking about the original meaning of the word “jilling” and what she had changed it into. Capital-J, Jilling. With her wife, the mother of her second child, the woman who made her believe in marriage again.

She much preferred the new definition.

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