So, We're BOTH Single Now?

Diana steps out of the fitting room in a tiny black dress that barely covers her ass, holding the fabric away from her body with both hands like she’s checking if it will even stay on. Taylor’s already in a silver halter that plunges straight to her navel and stops just under her tits, which sit high and full against the thin fabric. Both women have the kind of big, natural breasts that move when they laugh. Taylor whistles low. Diana looks at her best friend, not the mirror. She turns slowly, the dress riding up with every step, and the soft glint of silver flashes at her nipples—tiny hoops she got after her last breakup. Taylor reaches out and runs a fingertip along the underside of one breast, pretending to smooth the dress, but neither of them pretends for long. Diana’s nipples bead. Taylor’s thumb circles once, twice. Diana leans in; their mouths meet with a hungry, wet sound. The shopping bags are kicked aside. They sink onto the bed, dresses pushed up, hands sliding beneath fabric, skin against skin. Taylor’s fingers slip between Diana’s thighs, find her already slick, and push inside without asking. Diana gasps, hips jerking, legs spreading wider. Her nipple rings press against Taylor’s palm as she squeezes. Two fingers turn into three. Diana rides them, blonde hair falling into her eyes, mouth open, a broken moan every time Taylor curls upward and hits that spot that makes her thighs tremble. They trade places, kisses turning sloppy, the air thick with the sound of wet fingers moving fast and the soft slap of skin. Taylor’s pierced nipples drag across Diana’s mouth; Diana catches one hoop with her teeth and tugs just enough to make Taylor swear and grind harder against her hand. No one is going out tonight. Not until they finish what they started right here.