The Lost Tapes of Sappho

"Oh, Nancy," Dianne exclaimed as she writhed on the blood-warm waterbed. It had been stripped of its sheets and the two of them where coated in a thin layer of GMO-free soybean oil. Nancy lifted the pudding-filled sweatsock of Dianne's breast from her armpit and lightly bit the coarse hairs surrounding the ragged aureole.

Dianne scrambled to find Nancy's dessicated labia, lapping oil from the bed to provide enough elasticity so that her clitoris wouldn't break off and crumble in her hand. Nancy slipped a lubed finger in Dianne's anus and began to massage her perineum in lazy circles with her thumb. "Oh, Nancy," Dianne exclaimed again, "Harder, like the doula when Katherine was born!"

In their ecstasy neither could see the red LED of the camera or hear its soft whir in the dim chamber.