Breakfast With My Friend - Part 2

They unlocked the door and the spell of evening swallowed them whole. Penny Pax and Sovereign Syre shed coats and sunlight in the same breath, gliding straight to the bedroom they know better than daylight. The old warmth Brigitte stirred is still crackling between them, and mouths find each other fast. Penny claims Sovereign’s lips with slow, hungry pressure; the younger woman parts them, tasting wine, tasting invitation. Each tongue stroke sends a hot pulse down between Sovereign’s thighs. Penny’s palm cups the weight of Sovereign’s breast, thumbs brushing taut nipples that stiffen under cotton before the blouse is tugged open. Their kissing deepens—wet clicks, the soft smack of suction. Sovereign rocks forward, hips demanding touch, leaving damp heat on Penny’s thigh through silk panties. They press and grind until wetness seeps past lace, slick and warm, matching the pace of hungry mouths. Penny slips two fingers beneath the last layer, glides along Sovereign’s soaking seam, coats her knuckles and presses inside. The knuckle-deep glide coaxes a gasp that slips straight into Penny’s mouth. She pumps harder, finding that slick pulse, and Sovereign rides her hand, pussy clenching, juices slicking every knuckle. They move together, a seamless rhythm until the tension cracks. Sovereign comes with a muted cry against Penny’s lips; her walls flutter hard around those steady fingers. The orgasm drags a second smaller one out of Penny, drawn by her own slick against Sovereign’s thigh. She trembles, still lip-locked, their breath shared and sharp while the bed sheets soak beneath them.