Girl Love

Jenna felt half-dead the morning after the divorce papers hit. Coffee tasted like nothing. Her body felt like furniture. Then Shyla walked in the door, crop top clinging, mouth already wet. They didn’t bother with small talk. Shyla pressed her against the hallway wall, rolled Jenna’s nipples through the thin tee until they stood out like secret promises. Jenna slipped two fingers under Shyla’s skirt, found her bare and slick, and the first choked moan that left her throat belonged to someone she hadn’t met in a long time. They made it as far as the bedroom floor. Clothes came off in impatient fists. Shyla took the lead at first, straddling Jenna’s mouth so she could feel warm thighs lock around her cheeks. Jenna licked slowly, reverently, tasting salt and heat, until Shyla’s hips began to rock in tight, desperate circles. The girl came hard, thighs trembling, soaking Jenna’s chin and collarbone. When she rolled off, Shyla switched direction without warning, settling between Jenna’s open legs. She dragged her tongue in one flat, hungry stripe, then circled, sucked, pressed inside. Jenna’s back arched, hands fisted in the sheets. Shyla kept the rhythm tight until Jenna bucked, cursing, breaking open in waves that seemed to go on past any idea of time. They didn’t stop. Shyla slid two fingers deep while she kept sucking; Jenna pulled Shyla’s hips around again so they could taste each other at the same angle. Wet, gasping, hungry, they came again—first together, then Jenna once more on her back with Shyla straddling her thigh, rubbing slick heat until the second orgasm ripped through her like static. When they finally lay still, the morning sun had moved across the carpet and Jenna felt alive down to her fingertips.