Horny Karla Trusts Again

Karla’s mouth ran on, recounting beach towns and bad red wine, lounge chairs, sandals pinched too tight. Tilda nodded, polite, knees tight together under the short skirt. She wanted Karla’s tongue in her mouth instead. She wanted it so badly she had to set her glass down or spill it. Karla paused. Her voice dropped. “I’m scared to trust anyone like that again. The idea of opening up knocks the breath out of me.” The room felt smaller. Tilda watched Karla’s chest rise under that thin top. Karla smiled at her anyway, eyes soft and hungry at the same time. “But you make me want to anyway,” she whispered. They moved to the couch. Karla’s skirt slid up her thighs like water. Tilda kissed her—slow at first, then urgent—fingers slipping beneath Karla’s damp panties to find her slick and hot. Karla moaned, tilting her hips, guiding Tilda’s fingers deeper. They worked in rhythm: Tilda licking along Karla’s collarbone while her hand pumped steadily between them. Karla freed Tilda’s breast and pinched, tugging a moan free. Soon neither could stand the extra seconds they spent on laces, buttons, edges of cloth. They stripped the rest away. They knelt facing one another, knees brushing. Karla slid two fingers inside herself while Tilda stroked rapid circles over her own clit. Wet sounds filled the room. They kissed between gasps, pressed close, thighs sliding together. Mouths open, shared breath. Karla came first, a tight shudder breaking through her, fingers never pausing even as her thighs shook. The sight pushed Tilda over the edge; she arched, cried out against Karla’s neck, and held her until the tremble passed.