Sweet 69

Freya and Paige rush upstairs, skin already flushed, breath catching. They fall onto the sheets and hands move at once—sweeping over curves, thumbs flicking nipples, palms smoothing the dip of waists, the swell of hips. Freya sinks her teeth into the soft meat of Paige’s inner thigh; Paige answers with fingers dragging down Freya’s spine. Then their mouths drop lower. Tongues part slick folds, lick, dip, press hard against swollen clits. Every wet sound fills the room. Hips jerk. Fingers curl into hair, holding the other still while she feasts. Saliva mixes with slick as they grind faces deeper, faster, eating like they’ve waited weeks. Moans muffled between thighs, bodies twisting, slick thighs shining in the low light.