Making Their Own Fun

Lexi, Sarah, and Romi sat with three extra plates cooling on the table. Their boyfriends had bailed—again. At first the women offered polite sighs and small talk, but the complaints started flying soon enough. Lexi rolled her eyes. "Every time I try to show him how to touch me right, he acts like I'm giving him math homework." Sarah snorted. "Mine lasts eight seconds, then asks if it was good for me. Eight." Romi poured more wine. "They think we come like light switches. Flick, flick—done." The conversation shifted quickly, unguarded. Turns out they all faked more orgasms than they admitted. All three knew exactly what they wanted between their legs and how long they wanted it. The shared eye-rolls turned into lingering looks. Lexi set her glass down. "Who needs them?" She shrugged, then slid closer to Romi, letting her hand rest on the curve of Romi's thigh. "We know what we like." Sarah didn't hesitate. She leaned in, kissing Lexi slowly, tasting wine on her tongue. Romi followed, mouth trailing heat along Lexi's neck, teeth grazing skin. Clothes hit the floor—bras snapped loose, panties tugged aside. Three bodies moved together with no wasted motion. Lexi lay back, legs parted, and Sarah settled between them first, tongue broad and sure against her clit. Romi straddled Lexi's face, hips rocking as Lexi's tongue worked upward in steady circles. Sarah's fingers slipped inside her easily—two, then three—while her mouth stayed busy sucking, swirling. Every moan from Lexi vibrated straight through Romi, making her thighs tremble. Romi came first, grinding down, soaking Lexi's lips. Seconds later Lexi arched hard against Sarah's mouth and hand, crying out sharp and loud. They traded places without hurry. Romi on her back now, knees spread wide. Sarah crawled up to ride her face while Lexi pressed three slick fingers inside her, sucking each nipple until they peaked tight. Sarah rocked hard, chasing the rhythm Lexi's tongue found against her clit, until she clenched and shuddered, collapsing forward with a gasp. Later, tangled on the couch, legs overlapping, someone muttered about skipping game night forever. No one disagreed.