Teach Me

In the opening interview Veronica studies Aidra with quiet authority. "Young people rush too fast," she murmurs, letting the idea settle between them. They begin anyway. Mouths meet, tongues slick and slow, finding a rhythm. Hands slip beneath fabric, trace the warm curves hidden there. Every caress lingers. Aidra arches when Veronica slides two fingers inside her, stroking deep while her thumb circles that slick clit. Veronica keeps the tempo steady, letting it build. She replaces her fingers with her tongue, dragging it flat and hungry, drinking the taste of her. Aidra shudders, heels digging into silk sheets. They shift, thighs locking together. The first drag of slick heat against slick heat draws matching sighs. Bodies grind—slow at first, hips meeting like they have all night. Sweat glimmers. Voices turn throaty. Veronica cups Aidra’s ass, pulling her closer, drawing tight circles with her pelvis until the friction catches like fire. The rhythm breaks into sharp, desperate thrusts. Nothing soft in them now, only friction, only need. They come like that, mouths parted, foreheads pressed, riding the quiver until it finally leaves them loose and breathing hard.