Handcuffs for Caprice

Two women stretch out on white sheets, one already wearing cuffs, the other running a feather across bare skin. Every flick lights fresh goosebumps. Caprice lifts her hips and Vera smiles, trails the feather lower until she can follow it with her tongue, slow circles around small pink nipples. Fingers trace slick heat. When the toy appears, Vera turns it on and presses the tip to the swell above Caprice’s cunt, holding it there until the cuffed girl bucks. Then she slides it inside, shallow, deep, shallow again, her own free hand working between her legs in time. They laugh when the cuffs rattle, but the laughter melts into soft, shaky moans. Each thrust pulls an answering twitch from the other’s body until the room smells of sweat, perfume, and the sweet tang of girls coming hard, wrists and thighs and lips still pressed together.