Bedside Manner

Kiarra sits on the edge of her bed and chews her lip. “I’m going to fail clinicals. They said I’m too detached.” Laney and Jessie glance at each other, then Jessie hops up. “We’re your patients tonight. Teach us how detached you really are.” Laney pulls her scrub top over her head, small breasts rising with the motion. Kiarra’s hands hover, unsure where to land. “Warmer,” Laney murmurs. Kiarra’s palms settle over those small tits; thumbs stroke soft nipples until they stiffen. Jessie slips behind her, cups Kiarra’s own natural curves through cotton. Heat builds fast. Fingers drift lower. Kiarra parts Laney’s thighs, slides two fingers along slick folds, finds the tight entrance and pushes in. Laney gasps. Jessie’s hand reaches between Kiarra’s legs in return, circling her clit in lazy strokes. Breath comes quick. Jessie peels away Kiarra’s scrubs, kneels to mouth one nipple while her fingers keep working. Laney pulls Jessie’s hips closer and tongues the blonde’s small breasts, saliva glistening on pale skin. The three shift, tangle, mouths and hands everywhere—tongues flicking swollen clits, fingers buried knuckle-deep. Every moan answers another. Temperature forgotten, they ride each other until thighs shake and the sheets are soaked.