Drusilla led on the back on the grass in the garden of the mansion. It was midnight and the cold air bit at her skin. She stared up at the sky, wondering which star she should name Darla.
“Grandmommy’s gone.” She said up at them, as if explaining.
She spread her legs wide and ran her hands over her stomach.
“She used to touch me like this.” She trailed her hands over her thighs, drawing swirls before digging her nails into the flesh there, drawing blood. “She liked doing that.”
She finally brought her hands to her clit, a few fingers on one hand stoking it while the other hand hovered, waiting.
“When the boys were out playing, we’d have a bath, get all wet and make the sheets wet.”
She moved her other hand lower, pushing two fingers inside herself.
“We’d have our own fun, me and grandmommy.”
Drusilla rubbed furiously at her clit, her fingers twisting and crooking inside her, trying to recreate Darla’s expertise. She closed her eyes, blocking out the stars and imagining Darla in her head. Her golden hair on her white shoulders. The way she’d be too gentle and too firm at the same time, making Dru come whether she wanted to or not. She’d pet her hair and squeeze her breasts, tweaking a nipple every now and again. Or she’d kneel down and kiss her there, tongue licking and flicking until she was shaking and kicking, wanting less and more at the same time.
Drusilla cackled into the night air as she brought herself to orgasm. The men were no substitute for her Darla.
When they asked her what she’d been doing she told the truth. She’d been naming the stars and she’s named them all the same name. Darla.