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Author's Chapter Notes:
This one goes out to Sotia, again, for being a persistent pain in getting me to write. Big Spanky. Thanks to Dampersnspoons for doing teh Beta thang and a hug for Tori and Shadow for keeping me semi-motivated.
If you don't like lesbian porn...you are nothing like Buffy. She watches some, so be warned.
Section Quatre

Buffy sighed the most put out sigh ever to have been sighed in the office or possibly the country. She had still been denied orgasm. She screamed in frustration whenever she could, sometimes into her hand in the toilet cubicles at work as her other hand moved furiously. Sometimes into her pillow as she humped the one beneath her legs at two o’clock in the morning. Sometimes, when she was on a business trip and passing an open plain of grass, she’d just get out of the car and scream. Buffy hadn’t orgasmed in three years. Not even via self stimulation. She was always…ALWAYS interrupted. Or her arm would give out. She was on the brink of release and her mother would yell out to bring down her dirty laundry, forgetting that Buffy stoutly refused Joyce’s washing help as most of her underclothes (and sometimes her pants), sheets and towels were covered with desperate secretions.

Buffy half expected the cause of her back pains were from the awkward lengths she’d gone to come. Awkward lengths meaning awkward positions.

And now all she could think about was Spike putting her in those positions.

Willow noticed her distant demeanour and popped around to Buffy’s cubicle.

As soon as Willow saw the lust and frustration swirling in her eyes she giggled.

“Spill. Who’s the guy, Buffy?”

“What? There is no guy.” Buffy’s hand fidgeted in her lap as she swung around to answer Willow.

“Yeah, and you’re the Queen of Egypt.” The smile was firmly implanted on Willow’s face even through Buffy’s counter argument.

“There is no Queen of Egypt. The last one was Cleopatra.”

Willow pulled up a vacated chair and looked, with the utmost resolve, towards Buffy.

“Okay, okay. Back down with the facial expressions already. There’s a guy. His name is Spik…William. He’s my…he works for Mom.”

“And? Juicy gossip please. How far have you gone? Are you having naughty thoughts about him? Have you seen him naked?” Buffy’s cotton boy short panties flooded with desire and her throat clogged up. She took a few second a breather before attempting to answer.

“Will, I just met him, I was a little forward and we’re going out on our first date Wednesday night.”

Willow squealed.

Buffy plopped her head in her hands. She knew her body would wait two more days until release but Buffy had finally found the thing…the guy…that WOULD make her go pop and she didn’t want to stop. Nah-uh, they were going to get in his car and go for it. Buffy would rip off his shirt (which probably wouldn’t be polo like his self imposed uniform, more like a skin tight black shirt) and impale herself right there, in his car on her driveway, on his massive dick and would squeeze and squeeze then make him nip and flick until she came. And then she’d make him make her come again.

Buffy’s desk phone rang on her desk and Willow giggled as Buffy was thrown from her *ahem* reverie.

“Hello, DM Palace HQ Sales Department, this is Buffy Summers speaking.”

“’lo, love.” Buffy mouthed ‘William’ to her redheaded friend before turning around to face her computer screen.

“’Sup, Spike. See you aren’t the only one with the alliteration skills.”

“Ahuh…So, what are you doing?”

“Mortification.” Buffy flicked a look towards a giggling Willow.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’m hanging up now, Spike. Don’t call me at work again. See you Wednesday night.”

Buffy heard his chuckle as the phone was placed back in the cradle.

‘How did he go from husky sexy swaggery god of lust to wee Wee Wittle Willy Wimpkins?’ Buffy almost lost herself to naughty thoughts of said sex god before remembering Willow was STILL hanging around.

“Summers! Rosenberg! Back to work. You were supposed to organise those forms on the manhandling of goods by the overseas freighter company, YESTERDAY.”

The women shot each other an exasperated look over their resident tyrant boss, Synder, before Willow headed back to her cubicle.

Buffy sighed and said just beneath her breath, “Spike can manhandle my goods any day.”

****

Buffy was late home again.

“Did you steal my jacket, airhead?”

“Dawn, be nice.” Joyce called out from the bathroom.

Buffy gracefully sneered at Dawn through her open bedroom door before continuing to her bed to collapse.

A few minutes passed before Joyce poked her head into Buffy’s room and looked at the pain passing across her eldest’s face.

“Aww, honey, is your back still sore?”

Buffy made a show of lifting her head from the soft down pillow and making a face at Joyce.

“You aren’t still mad at me for not introducing you to William earlier, are you? Really dear, you are exaggerating your lack of social life. And you’re going out with him Wednesday, yes?”

Buffy was as stubborn as a teenage rhinoceros. Well, more horny. But Buffy could probably give the rhinos a run for their money in the stubborn race.

“Well, fine, act like a child and ignore me. I have a date.”

Buffy shot up from the creaking bed.

“Mom, I don’t trust this guy. He…he…he sounded funny over the phone. And he has a Great Dane. Who has Great Danes?”

Buffy was ignored and that was fine by her. She had a plan, even if it was driving her crazy with need. Every second since she got home, since she saw the places in her home where Spike had given her the electrifying chills from his touch, her loins ached. So now, with her undergarments wetter than a whale, she was as desperate for some action as Tom Cruise. She needed some ‘alone with her hand’ time and hoped her mother was out on her date with the Dane guy for a long while after Dawn went to sleep.

Her wishes weren’t answered.

Her mother arrived home at ten pm claiming the danish was a serial killer.

Buffy sighed and heard her mother’s door close. She lay in bed for almost three hours, her body strung so tight she was ready to scream.

Buffy punched her pillow in frustrated ire before throwing a sheet onto her bare expanse of floor.

Discarding her pyjama bottoms, she slipped her burgundy boy short panties down her legs from her slender hips. She’d worn them all day and could smell the desire that had pumped out of her during the many hours she’d spent thinking about Spike. Casually grabbing the bra she’d thrown across her chair, she clipped the wired lace lingerie just above her nipples then threw her panties on over her head and around her neck. The crotch hung just beneath her nose, the sweet smell of sex wafting into her lungs.

Positioning the pillow beneath her thighs, Buffy lowered herself on the sheeted ground like a dying salmon, her limbs flailing into a ‘comfortable’ position.

Buffy looked up at the laptop she’d left on the floor, the web cam screen showing her breasts peeking out beneath the embroidered white roses on black lace. Her breath hitched, her mind again wandering to Spike, wondering whether he’d ever let her tape the acts they were definitely going to play.

Clicking on the preloaded porn, Buffy’s hand went immediately to her pussy, fingers teasing the folds and curling up into her slickness.

The women on screen touched each other, kneaded their breasts, licked their pussies, sucked their vibes, moaned and squealed and shook.

Buffy grabbed her dildo and angled it just so, her pillow tightly held between her thighs and her breasts touching the coarse carpet.

Needing to hear the moans as the three blondes by the pool shuddered in succession; Buffy grabbed her headphones and shoved them into her ears, listening to the half-fake moans as the orgasming woman glanced at the camera.

Buffy hated seeing strange men’s penises. The ones she’d dealt with in real life were ugly enough, so whenever she felt the need to watch porn, it’d be lesbian. She hated that most porn makers thought only men watched the chicks get it on and needed the bad moaning and dodgy angles. Buffy just needed to see the orgasms. She needed to vicariously feel the pleasurable shakes that rocketed through the women

Buffy inhaled deeply; her hips moved quickly, her fingers pinched her nipples and eyes stared intently at the screen.

“I…just…want…to…come…GRAAAH!” Buffy’s muscles pushed the dildo out of her pussy in one flush of unsatisfied liquid and Buffy scrambled to push it back in so she could just get over the mark. But it was too late. Buffy flung the wobbling silicone carelessly across the room.

She inhaled once more and slumped down and sobbed, the need pulsing relentlessly through her nerves as her mother knocked on the door.

“I’m fine Mom,” She said, quickly slipping into a slumber of thoughts about her upcoming date. She knew, she just knew, that the weird connection she felt towards Spike signified her final coming. He would be the one who would make her come after three very, very long years.





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