We Don't Need Men

Briana's boyfriend just dumped her. So she calls London. London shows up with a bottle of oil and a plan. She spreads it across Briana's bare shoulders, lets her hands slide down to heavy tits that fill her palms. The touch lingers. Turns hot. Soon their mouths are on each other—soft, hungry, blonde on brunette. London drops lower, tongue flicking over pierced nipples, sucking until they ache. They shift, spread, and lock into a slick sixty-nine. Each girl tastes the other like she's starving. Fingers push deep, then they pull a thick double dildo from the drawer. They feed it in together—slow, then faster—until both ends disappear and the wet slapping of their hips fills the room. They ride hard, crying out, bodies glistening, neither of them thinking about men anymore.