Tropic of Eros - Part 3

Two women sit with their thighs pressed together on a plush hotel chaise, skirts rucked high. Their hands begin to roam, fingers slick and deliberate, tracing every fold, every hidden seam of the other’s sex. One spreads the other open, holds her wide, and watches. The second breathes against swollen skin, draws her tongue along the wet seam with slow, savoring strokes. Fingers slide in, curl, find the spot that makes her hips jerk. She moans once, then bites her lip, throat working. The air is thick with the musk of arousal; small, wet sounds rise between each sharp breath. One climaxes first—shuddering, clenching around the fingers inside her—yet neither stops. They keep each other open, keep tasting, licking, working, lost in the deliberate rhythm of mutual hunger.