Show Me How You Kiss

Brandi Love studies Shyla Jennings with that measured stare. "What do you like about girls?" she asks. Shyla blushes, soft-spoken. "Kissing them." Brandi cocks an eyebrow, leans in close, breath sweet with wine. "Show me," she says. Shyla parts her lips, tasting Brandi’s mouth slow at first. Then hunger takes over. Their tongues slide deep, wet, noisy. Shyla whimpers, Brandi answers with a low, throaty growl. Brandi’s hands drift down, slip beneath soft cotton, find heat. Two fingers graze Shyla’s slick seam and the girl jolts. Brandi drops to her knees, drags Shyla’s panties aside and mouths her clit like she owns it. Shyla’s hips jerk, thighs spread wider, the sound of Brandi’s tongue making sticky little flicks filling the room. A filthy moan slips out when Brandi sucks harder. They trade places in one quick, hungry movement. Now Shyla is kneeling between Brandi’s open legs, mouth buried, licking in firm, greedy strokes. Brandi grabs a fistful of hair and grinds against that tongue. The wet, squelching rhythm gets louder, punctuated by Brandi’s broken sighs. They end up tangled sideways, hips rocking, mouths locked between each other’s thighs. Brandi drags Shyla’s clit between her teeth, thumb teasing in tight circles. Shyla answers with quick, rapid licks that make Brandi’s belly clench. Both girls shake at once, legs trembling, loud, wet cries echoing off the walls. Their orgasms rip through them in stuttering pulses until they slump, gasping, slick mouths still pressed to flushed skin.