Lesbian Roadtrip: Second Stage

Back they come. Penelope Stone, Chloe Amour, Veronica Radke, Gigi Allens, Natasha Voya, and Sami St. Claire. They have run out of patience with wanting and wondering. Instead they park the motor-home where the highway ends at the cliff, draw every shade, and let everything loose. Fingers work belts and zippers in rushed silence until clothes drop in uneven heaps across the floor. Tongue meets nipple in the first frantic kiss, mouths slide lower, and someone pulls thighs apart so a wet mouth can open her. Hips roll and grind. Two girls lock legs, clit to clit, and rub hard enough to shake the table. The first girl who comes grips the leather seat and cries out; her thighs quiver against someone’s shoulders. Fingers replace mouths inside slick heat, thrusting faster while another mouth sucks on her clit with hard, steady pulls. They trade places without speaking. The air grows thick with the smell of sweat and sex and sun on skin. Limbs tangle across the narrow beds. Someone gets on all fours while the others take turns from behind, two mouths on her at once until her arms give out. One girl lies on her back with her legs in the air and another straddles her face, rocking gently so her tongue can reach every fold. Hands knead breasts, pinch nipples, pull hair. The coach rocks slightly on its springs as bodies find a ragged, collective rhythm, sweat slicking skin wherever they touch. Moans and the wet sound of tongues and fingers fill the space, louder each time another girl breaks and comes again.