A League Of Their Moans

They sit on the floor, still damp from the field, legs kicked out, tossing their shoes aside. Paige wipes her face and laughs at how the coach just does not know when to quit. Maya agrees. Their old drill sergeant of a woman pushes too hard, but there is something sexy about all that fire. Too bad the coach is not their type. Paige glances sideways, curious now. "So… what is your type?" Maya studies her, suddenly shy but smiling. "Maybe I am looking at her." The room goes quiet except for the soft click of a water bottle. Paige leans in, testing. Maya meets her halfway. Hands slide under cotton, finding small, bare breasts that fit perfectly in a palm. They kiss once, then again, tongues clumsy with newness. Paige parts Maya’s thighs and slips two fingers inside, slow at first, learning the sound Maya makes when she likes it deeper. Maya returns the favor, thumb circling Paige’s clit while her fingers curl. Blonde hair tangles with brunette, small tits pressed together, bodies moving in quick, quiet rhythm on the locker-room floor.