Edward Beale, Five Peonies in a Vase

Emma took Alina to the Chamber of Commerce Art Show. It was after hours but she’d successfully begged a key from a friend.

“Just let me turn on the lights,” Emma told Alina, once they were inside. “There’s one here you have to see. It’s driving me crazy.”

For several minutes, Emma and Alina stood before the painting.

“What do you think?” Emma said, breaking the silence.

“It’s pretty,” Alina said. “But why is it driving you crazy?”

“I was here yesterday,” Emma related. “I needed to portal into it. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get in. Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

“That would be sad,” Alina said. “But it’s just flowers. Peonies in a vase, right?”

“Right,” Emma said. “And I agree that they’re pretty. But they’re more than that.”

“They are?” questioned Alina.

“See, I needed to do more than see them. I needed to touch them. I needed to smell them.”

“Peonies do smell nice,” Alina said. “But they’re known to have ants. I’m not sure putting them in a vase and bringing them inside is a good idea. Unless you like ants.”

“The thing is,” Emma explained. “The thing is, these peonies make me think of you. Of your flower.”

“My flower?”

“Your pussy. Your cunt.”

“Oh,” said Alina. “You’re not suggesting my ... my flower has ants.”

“Maybe I’d better check,” Emma said. Her hand, which had been resting peacefully on Alina’s bottom, craftly lifted Alina’s dress. Her fingers eased into the crease.

“I knew it!” Emma whispered.

“Knew what?”

“You’re wet.”

Emma’s finger smoothed Alina’s pussy juice up and down the inner surfaces of her sex lips.

“So wet,” she said, now smoothing the moisture around the rim of Alina’s anus.

“Oh!” Alina gasped, when the slick finger penetrated her asshole. “Oh, oh, oh!”

“So nice,” Emma said, working her finger in and out. “So snug and warm. Almost as nice as your hot little fuck hole.”

Alina warbled a series of oh’s and then orgasmed, her asshole clenching Emma’s finger again and again. When Alina had calmed, Emma withdrew her finger.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” Alina managed to say. “That was—”

Before Alina could finish, Emma’s finger found the erect button of Alina’s clit.

Another gasp. Another orgasm.

“One more for good luck, this time in your lovely flower,” Emma told Alina.

“Oh Gosh, but you can’t, after it’s been in my...”

“I know,” Emma said. “That’s why I’m going to use my tongue.”

Unlike her difficulty portalling into the painting, Emma had no trouble at all thrusting her tongue deep into Alina’s succulent cunt.