Lesbian Analingus #11

Brandi Love, sun-browned and stacked, falls on Alexis Fawx with the kind of hunger people only know after years alone. Their mouths crash first, lips wet, teeth clicking, tongues battling until air runs thin. They tear off lace tops and skirts without ceremony. Alexis shoves Brandi onto the sofa and spreads her open, tongue stroking the hot slick of her cunt. Brandi answers in kind, two fingers pushing inside Alexis and curling toward the spot that makes her hips stutter. Spit trickles down their chins. They taste each other until thighs quiver. When tongues slide lower, the air fills with sharp cries—two wet holes loosened by fingers, then licked slow and deep. Alexis slips her tongue over Brandi’s tight star and presses inside, saliva dripping between brand-new kisses to the underside of each cheek. They trade places, they trade names, they lose track of who groans loudest as each climax hits fast, then faster, soaking skin and cushions. By the time they slow, the afternoon light has gone gold, and both women lie panting, mouths tasting of salt and each other.