A Taste of Freedom

Hope steps out of the shower, water sliding down her ebony skin. Olive waits by the lockers, already unbuttoning her uniform. Neither woman wastes time with words. Olive presses Hope against the metal, lips at her neck while her hands slide over the curve of Hope’s ass. Hope answers by tugging open Olive’s shirt, palms covering small, firm breasts. They sink to the bench together. Olive’s mouth travels lower, tasting the water and sweat on Hope’s stomach, then lower still. Hope spreads her thighs wide, one heel braced on the bench, the other foot on the tile. Olive’s tongue works between her folds, slow and steady, until Hope’s breath breaks into soft, urgent sounds. She pulls Olive up, kisses her hard, then turns her around and drops behind her. Hope’s hands spread Olive’s ass, tongue tracing tight circles until Olive’s hips rock back against her face. They shift again, Hope straddling Olive’s thigh, riding it while Olive’s fingers push inside her. Sweat mixes with shower water on the bench beneath them. Hope comes first, thighs shaking, forehead pressed to Olive’s shoulder. Olive follows seconds later, fingers still buried deep, mouth open against Hope’s neck. For those few minutes, the locker room holds nothing but skin, breath, and the low sounds of two women taking what they can.