Love Me Tender

There's nothing quite like a kiss from your lover under an open sky. Summer's landed—hot, thick, all gold and heat. Laney and Hazel spill what gets them off when the sun burns brightest, and Hazel owns it: she likes to come in this weather. Sweat, skin, the full brush of their hair—bush thick, armpits wild. They drift inside, the air heavy with want. Laney's tongue finds the wet salt beneath Hazel's arms, then slips lower, tasting her clit in slow circles. Hazel answers with her mouth buried in Laney's bush, licking deep, greedy, lost in it. The only sounds now: wet lips, breath catching, the faint creak of the sofa under their bodies.