Girl on Girl

They only just met at the resort but the hunger hit both of them hard. Without small talk, without the dance of polite suggestion, Belinda and Fiva slipped away to the edge of the manicured garden. Sun cut between the palms. Birds called overhead. Fiva's eyes traveled down Belinda's sundress. Her voice stayed low. "Take it off. Everything. Here." Belinda eased the straps from her shoulders. The dress slid to her hips, then lower, until the silk pooled at her feet. Naked in the open air, nipples tight, breath quickening, she stood exactly where Fiva pointed—between two lounge chairs, in full view of anyone walking the path. Fiva stepped close. Her mouth closed over Belinda's breast first, slow and thorough, tongue circling until Belinda's hips twitched forward. Fingers followed. Fiva traced the soft line of Belinda's waist, the swell of her thighs, the slick heat already waiting between them. When Belinda trembled, Fiva pushed two fingers inside her, deliberate and deep, then added her thumb against the swollen clit. Each thrust pressed deeper, wet sounds barely masked by the rustle of leaves and distant laughter from the pool deck. Belinda's climax rolled through her fast, thighs clamping, head tipping back. Fiva held her through the pulses, mouth at her throat, murmuring how well she took it. When Belinda could stand on her own again, she turned to Fiva, eyes dark. "Your turn." She peeled away Fiva's linen shirt, pushed her back onto the nearest chair, and dropped to her knees. Mouth open, tongue skilled, Belinda returned the favor with long, possessive strokes that soon had Fiva gripping the arms of the chair, hips lifting, soft moans carried away on the same warm breeze that had watched them both come apart.