Sisters Kate England and Melissa May are doing it with themselves

Kate England and Melissa May trade looks that linger too long. They’re supposed to be half-dressed already, tank tops and thong bottoms scattered across the rumpled bed, their bodies flushed with the same family bloodstream. Whenever the house gets quiet, clothes come off and legs part without ceremony. Melissa climbs on first. She lowers herself until Kate’s tongue slides through slick heat, tasting the hot, tight center her own blood line gave her. Kate doesn’t waste time. She grips her sister’s hips, drags her closer, licks long strokes that curl inside before flicking the swollen clit above. Melissa moans hard, rides back, hips grinding down with the greedy rhythm sisters shouldn’t share. They switch without words. Now Kate is spread wide. Melissa’s mouth finds the trimmed strip above pink lips, presses a hungry kiss there, then sucks the whole swollen mound between her teeth. The wet sounds turn greedy, almost obscene. Tongues dip inside each other’s bodies the way no one else dares. Spit mixes with cream. Fingers curl in hair. They come close together; they always do. When the orgasms hit, thighs tremble, nails bite skin, and the room smells thick with cunt and something forbidden that still feels sweet. Somewhere in the back of their minds they know the risk. They just don’t stop.