Lesbians Young And Old

Magdi studies the screen like a foreign tongue. Pamela guides her hand. Three quick selfies later they forget the camera. Pamela kisses the inside of her elbow; Magdi’s breath catches. Hands move slower now, tracing collars open, buttons freed one by one. Fabric slips. Soft round breasts meet, dark nipples and pale, brushing with each shift of weight. Pamela cups Magdi’s waist, draws her closer. Magdi’s thighs open without thought. Fingers find wet heat, not rushed, not gentle in the tame sense but certain. A quick gasp, then a low hum of approval. Lips follow. Tongues trace salt and warmth, breath shallow on skin. Pamela sinks to her knees; Magdi leans back against the table edge. The younger mouth presses, sucks with steady pressure, and Magdi’s fingers knot in blonde hair. The rhythm quickens. Hips roll. The older woman comes in quiet pulses against Pamela’s tongue, one small cry breaking free, then a second caught behind bitten lips. They trade places without words. Pamela bends over the same table. Magdi parts her from behind, learns the new angle, learns the taste she’s only seen in daylight through screens. When Pamela shudders, it’s quick and loud. Afterward they stay folded together, legs tangled, breathing slowly back into the room.