Abbey and Trisha

I went out for something to wrap around my skin—something that might slide off as easily as it slipped on. Instead I found Trisha Rey. One glance and she knew what I needed. She slipped the 'Back in Five' sign on the fitting-room door and led me past the racks. In the cramped storeroom she dropped to her knees on the cold tile, tugged my panties aside, and pressed her mouth to me like she’d been starved. Her tongue worked in quick, greedy strokes while I braced one palm against the metal shelving; hangers rattled above us with every thrust of her jaw. She moaned into my cunt—short, wet sounds that bounced off concrete walls—then spread me wider with two fingers and buried her tongue deeper, licking every drop she pulled from me. Footsteps echoed beyond the curtain, customers calling her name, but Trisha stayed right there, lips sealed around my clit, sucking until my knees buckled and my breath hitched sharp in my throat. When I came she didn’t stop, just licked slower, softer, tasting the mess she’d made. A tiny bell chimed out front. She rose, chin slick, and smiled like she’d just finished folding a sweater. "Back to work," she whispered, then licked her lips and slipped back onto the floor.