[ It's easier- safer- for Homura to latch onto 'Kaname.' With all that Homura's enjoying Junko's fingers exploring her body and those beautiful tits pressed up against her, it's all to easy to latch onto the similarities between mother and daughter, to fantasize about an older Madoka giving her everything she's ever wanted. ]
[ What Homura's doing right now is bad enough; that she's even physically attracted to Madoka's own mother is even worse. To bring Madoka into this, even if it's just an accidental moan of her name, would be inexcusable on too many levels. ]
[ Homura returns Junko's deeper kiss with a fervor she didn't even know she had, tasting the woman's tongue against her own; she shivers as she feels Junko moan, the knowledge that she can turn this woman on flushing her with pleasure. But before she can capitalize on this, Junko's experienced hands pick up the pace, pushing her faster than she even knew was possible, and Homura's fingers can only curl against the woman's hip and breast. The fingers working her pussy, the hand cupping her breast, it's all too much- Homura gasps, her slender hips buck, and she arches her back and gives voice to a higher-pitched, girlishly thin wail, pressing her writhing, shuddering body against Junko as she climaxes; her juices soak through her already-soaked panties, staining the woman's hand and skirt. ]
[ Homura continues shivering in pleasure as she relaxes against Junko's body in a loose hug, bathing in the afterglow, her cheek resting against the woman's collarbone- it's all she can do to try and catch her breath. Her hand remains where it is: cupping Junko's breast, living the dream. ]
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[ What Homura's doing right now is bad enough; that she's even physically attracted to Madoka's own mother is even worse. To bring Madoka into this, even if it's just an accidental moan of her name, would be inexcusable on too many levels. ]
[ Homura returns Junko's deeper kiss with a fervor she didn't even know she had, tasting the woman's tongue against her own; she shivers as she feels Junko moan, the knowledge that she can turn this woman on flushing her with pleasure. But before she can capitalize on this, Junko's experienced hands pick up the pace, pushing her faster than she even knew was possible, and Homura's fingers can only curl against the woman's hip and breast. The fingers working her pussy, the hand cupping her breast, it's all too much- Homura gasps, her slender hips buck, and she arches her back and gives voice to a higher-pitched, girlishly thin wail, pressing her writhing, shuddering body against Junko as she climaxes; her juices soak through her already-soaked panties, staining the woman's hand and skirt. ]
[ Homura continues shivering in pleasure as she relaxes against Junko's body in a loose hug, bathing in the afterglow, her cheek resting against the woman's collarbone- it's all she can do to try and catch her breath. Her hand remains where it is: cupping Junko's breast, living the dream. ]