Love Me Tinder

Marina and Kat want another woman tonight. They match, they message, they set a time. Now they wait. They slip into lace. Silk thongs ride high on their hips. The fabric clings, soft, thin. They look. They praise. One says the other looks good enough to taste, the other answers she always does. Words slide into touches, touches turn into open mouths. Wet lips meet throats, ribs, the soft skin under each breast. They sink to the bed. Marina spreads her knees, lets Kat settle between. Kat drags a slow tongue up her slit, tastes the first salt, then laps harder, finds the spot that makes her voice crack. Two fingers slide in, curl, press. Marina trembles, swears, then claws at Kat’s hair and begs to switch. She flips Kat onto her back. Pulls the thong aside and seals her mouth to Kat’s cunt, sucks the swollen clit, breathes against it until Kat shakes. A finger finds Kat’s ass, circles, slips just inside while her tongue keeps working the front. Kat arches, moans loud, grabs Marina’s wrist to guide the angle. They trade positions until their thighs burn. Tongues and fingers move faster, slick with spit and both their wetness. The sheets stick. The smell turns thick and sweet. Neither cares who finishes first; they keep going, legs locked, hips grinding, until they’re flushed and spent, laughing against each other’s thighs.