Automobile Lesbain Orgy

Two women press together in the cool leather backseat. Silk dresses slide up their thighs. Stockings catch against stockings. One brushes the other's inner thigh and a tremor passes through the taxi like current. Fingertips slip beneath lace. Hot breath catches against the dark window, mirrors fog. They work each other slowly, deliberately. Short, quiet sounds slip from parted mouths when they rise, slower for a moment, then quicker, feeling skin flutter and tighten under touch. The driver pulls off. Gravel crunches beneath the wheels. A private garden, shadowed and cool, opens behind iron gates. No light touches the benches but the white of moon reflecting on formal fountains. The first one is tugging the door handle almost before the car stops, hauling the other woman out onto a gravel path. Heels mark the stones as they rush toward the fountain. Fabric falls to the ground. Breasts catch moonlight; the nipples are tight. Hands fumble for one another again—lips tasting skin, fingers sliding back between thighs still slick from the car. They lower to a bench beside the water and fuck: slow grinding hips at first, then deeper, hips snapping, biting shoulders to muffle rising sound. The water pours and splashes beside them, masking everything else.