There's Nothing Wrong With A Little Squirting

Kimmy Kimm waited on the exam table, knees drawn close, Julia James hovering at her elbow like a lifeline. The school nurse, London River, glided closer, stockings whispering against each other. London’s cool hands parted Kimmy’s thighs, slipped beneath thin cotton, and found her already slick. A slow stroke over her clit made Kimmy shiver. London smiled, encouraged by that honest wetness, then pressed two fingers inside, curling upward until the girl gasped and arched. Fluid surged around London’s knuckles and spilled down her wrist. Kimmy’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar rush, but the nurse’s calm, steady voice kept her grounded. Julia watched, breath shallow, biting her lip. London pulled her drenched fingers free only to coax another wave with the flat of her tongue—slow circles that grew faster. The next gush hit harder, soaked the paper sheet, and left Kimmy shaking and laughing all at once. London’s mouth glistened as she pulled away, thumbs spreading Kimmy open so nothing was hidden. Julia’s clothes came off before anyone asked. London caught her wrist, drew her forward, laid her back on the cool table beside Kimmy. Mouths met skin—nipple, throat, inner thigh—hands exchanging wetness, lips glistening. The scent of sex thickened the air. London knelt between them, tongue and fingers working both girls into reckless tremors until fresh arcs of come wet her uniform and puddled on the floor. She stood again, slid three fingers inside herself, offered the slick digits to eager mouths. Julia and Kimmy licked her clean, cheeks flushed, laughter trembling on their tongues. No rush. Just the wet rhythm of skin on skin and the nurse’s measured breath as she set the pace for everything that followed.