Girls Who Gush

She starts slow, fingertips skating over bare skin still warm from the locker-room shower. Blonde hair spills across the pillow. The girl beneath her keeps her legs parted, shaved and glistening, small natural breasts rising with each breath. A second mouth finds a nipple, sucking until it stiffens. Fingers slip lower, parting slick folds, finding her already wet. The first girl sinks two fingers deep; the rhythm turns quick and wet, the sound of it filthy in the quiet room. A brunette crawls up beside them, smaller tits brushing the blonde’s thigh, and leans in for a kiss that tastes like salt and wanting. Someone moans, low and raw, and the pace never slackens—two mouths, four hands, the sheets darkening beneath them as they chase release together.