Hazel Wants To Know What Freya Tastes Like

Hazel settles between Freya’s open thighs, staring at the thick dark hair that covers her cunt. She runs two fingers along the outer lips, parts them slowly, and watches the pink flesh bloom. The scent hits her first—warm, sharp, unmistakably Freya. She leans in, flattens her tongue, and drags it up the full length of the slit, tasting salt and heat. Freya’s hips twitch, but Hazel pins them down with a firm hand on her belly. She circles the swollen clit, sucks it once, then lets it go. Freya’s breath catches. Hazel pushes two fingers inside, feels the walls grip and flutter, and starts a steady rhythm while her mouth stays locked on the tender hood. Freya’s fingers find Hazel’s hair, guiding her deeper. She tastes richer now, slick and slightly sweet, every fresh pulse of wetness coating Hazel’s tongue. When Freya starts to tremble, Hazel eases back just enough to watch her face—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—then drops lower again, sucking harder. Freya comes with a low, broken sound, thighs closing around Hazel’s ears. Hazel keeps licking through it, slower now, savoring every last tremor. When the aftershocks fade she crawls up Freya’s body, lips glossy, and kisses her so she can taste herself too.