Batteries Not Needed

Avi hovers near the front door, eyes flicking to every sound. When the knock finally lands she yanks it open and the two friends slam into each other, breath and laughter mixing. On the couch they keep touching, re-learning the shape of each other. Avi talks fast about everything she wants to do. Anny begs for one quiet night, and Avi gives in with a soft groan. Alone in the guest room, Anny peels off her travel clothes. Avi slips back inside, pokes through the open suitcase, and her fingers close around a slim vibrator. The toy looks well-used, and the thought of Anny using it makes heat climb up her neck. Anny steps out of the bathroom and catches her. She laughs, low and easy, then drops beside Avi on the bed. The vibrator’s batteries are dead, she says, and the cord stayed in Germany. Avi studies her. “So you like girls?” Anny only smiles. “You couldn’t tell?” They meet in the middle of the bed. Mouths open, tongues slide, hands tug at straps and hems until both bodies are bare. Avi spreads Anny’s thighs and buries her mouth between them. She licks slow, then faster, tasting the warm, wet heat. Two fingers slide in while her tongue works Anny’s clit, and the blonde’s hips jerk. They shift. Legs tangle. Small, bare breasts brush. They grind—tribbing hard, wetness slicking skin—until the soft slap of cunt on cunt fills the room. Every thrust pulls a gasp from Anny, every grind pushes her closer. Avi keeps the rhythm steady until Anny shakes through it, voice cracking, nails digging into Avi’s back. When she finally goes slack, Avi kisses the inside of her thigh, already planning the rest of the week.