Resting Aid

Priya Price spreads her thighs. Maya kneels. Full lips hover at Priya’s wet cunt and the air turns heavy. Maya’s tongue drags slow and lazy, tasting every fold. Priya’s hips roll. She reaches down, threads fingers through Maya’s straight black hair, and pulls her closer. The lick becomes a rhythm—soft suction, firm circles, the precise pressure that makes Priya gasp and buck. Maya’s mouth drips with it. She slips two fingers inside, curls them just enough, and feels Priya clamp down. A low moan escapes Priya, rough and almost surprised. She tugs Maya up, spins the woman onto her back, and buries her face between Maya’s slim legs. Her tongue flicks fast at Maya’s clit, then sucks, matching the pace Maya just gave her. Maya arches, her modest breasts rising, her nipples tight. Her hand finds Priya’s heavy tits, palm full of warm flesh, thumb brushing a dark nipple. They trade places twice, chasing each other’s pleasure in an unbroken loop. Fingers slide in deep and swirl. Tongues soothe or prod, never letting pressure drop. Sweat slides between their breasts, across their bellies. Maya’s legs tremble first. A cry slips from her as the orgasm punches through—her pussy pulsing around Priya’s tongue and fingers, back bowing hard off the bed. Priya laughs, low and wicked, then straddles Maya’s eager mouth. Maya latches on again, sucking the swollen clit and thrusting three slender fingers into the gripping heat. Priya rides until her thighs quake. She grabs the headboard. Her moan turns guttural. Release floods Maya’s chin in short, hot bursts. Both women stay locked, tasting and holding, breath settling only when the last soft spasms fade.