Morphine - Part 1

Two women pull off the road, road dust still in their hair, and climb into the backseat of the open convertible. Their tops are already open. One girl crawls onto the other, skirt bunched around her waist, pressing her against the warm leather. She slips two fingers straight into the wet heat between her thighs and starts stroking without warm-up. The second girl moans, lifts her hips, meets every thrust. Slick sounds fill the quiet night air. She reaches between her own legs too, finding the other girl open and throbbing, and starts pumping two fingers inside her in return. They work each other fast, legs tangled, thighs shaking. The first girl drops her head to suck a stiff nipple, teeth catching skin. The second girl grips the edge of the seat and rubs harder, chasing the slick, swollen bead under her thumb. The car rocks on its shocks. They pant and gasp against each other’s open mouths, fingers slick to the knuckles, never slowing down until both girls shudder and squeeze around the fingers buried inside them.