Play With Me

Dila climbed on top, pressing Tiffany into the couch cushions. She started slow, tasting her mouth, then deeper, hotter, like she couldn’t get enough. Shirt off. Dila’s mouth at her tits, sucking hard on one nipple while her tongue traced wet circles around the other. Tiffany’s fingers slipped into her hair. Dila’s hands slid down her ribs, gripping her waist like she owned it. No point holding back—Dila yanked the skirt down and pushed Tiffany’s thighs open. She teased first, lips brushing over inner thigh, hip bone, the smooth skin just beside her shaved slit. Then she licked her open. Flat tongue. Lazy at first, then sharper, flicking the tip across her clit in tight little strokes. Tiffany watched her—her slim girlfriend’s mouth working steadily, tongue dipping inside, nose brushing her mound. She couldn’t stay still. Tiffany sat up, pulled Dila onto the arm of the couch, then dragged her forward so her cunt was right over her mouth. She didn’t give in right away. Tiny flicks—almost nothing—tracing the bead of her clit. Dila trembled. Breathy noises slipped out, caught between frustration and need. They stopped rushing. One on her back, legs spread; the other with her head between them. They switched like it was breathing. Fingers curved deep, knuckles glistening, hips rocking down to meet every stroke. The soft, wet sounds grew louder, until the moans rolled out thick and full, louder than the cheer chants from earlier. Both girls came hard, thighs shaking, riding the other’s hand until they were soaked and shaking. By the time they were done, they’d already made plans for next week.