Poolside Fantasy

Some women look at water and feel nothing. Alysa and Gina look at it and get wet twice. The pool makes their skin slick, their nipples stiff. They touch each other slowly at first, palms sliding over ribs, then faster, fingers digging in. Tongues trace the wet inside of thighs and lap at the softer wet between them. The sound is pure obscenity—steady licking, the odd whimper. Neither stops until the other shakes and goes still, mouth slack, pussy open, still twitching against the other’s tongue. Poolside, dripping, finished. Yet you know they’ll do it again once their breath comes back.