We Like Girls - Charlotte & Aiden

Charlotte took the dick with that same cocky little smile she gave my camera. Aiden, however, was the one melting in slow motion. She watched Charlotte, fascinated and jealous at once, and when their turn finally arrived it felt almost nuclear. Fidgety. Their mouths kept missing because neither would stop grinning. Lips dragged, laughter cracked, then the contact snapped taut again, hard this time, and the sound it made was almost too wet to hear. Charlotte kept saying “fuck, yes,” while Aiden answered only with the wet, relentless push of two greedy fingers. They rocked, first kneeling face-to-face, then scissored on the crumpled white sheets, legs locked, clits sliding in slick, almost-silent desperation. When Aiden finally slid down, mouth open, a clear strand of spit strung between them for a second before she ate Charlotte like she was starving. Charlotte cursed through her teeth; her thighs trembled, calves cramping over Aiden’s shoulders. One sharp, surprised sound burst out of her, louder than any acting—then another, longer, thinner, and the camera only caught the blush before the lens fogged. After they stilled, sweat cooling, Aiden pressed her mouth to the faint, razor-burn-pink stripe on Charlotte’s inner thigh. She didn’t kiss it, exactly; she left her bottom lip there until the heat rose again.