Day With My Girls

Carmen and Amanda hike every week. Same morning, same text from Tinslee — parents gone. They show up. Snacks, a pillow fight, TV on low. Tinslee yawns and heads off to nap. Quiet house. The two of them look at each other, bored and restless. Amanda starts it. She pushes Carmen back, palms both small tits, thumbs flicking over the cotton. “She can join if she wants,” Amanda says when Carmen glances at the hallway. Amanda tugs the top down and takes one nipple in her mouth, licking until it stiffens. Carmen sighs, raises her hips. Shorts are gone a second later. Amanda drops between spread thighs, licks straight up the slit, works thumb and tongue in tight circles. Two fingers slide in, curve, press. Carmen’s breath catches high in her throat; the moan is almost a shout. Amanda’s free hand wedges a cushion under Carmen’s ass, gets deeper. Carmen’s legs start to shake. Amanda keeps sucking, proud, cocky. Carmen flips them. She strips Amanda fast, spreads her open, tongue-fucks her until the younger girl is gasping. Then the pink plug appears. Carmen works it against the tight hole, twisting slow, sucking Amanda’s clit at the same time. Amanda’s hands twist in the sheet, forget her pigtails. Her thighs twitch around Carmen’s ears. Her stomach flutters. Short, rough sounds break out of her until the orgasm snaps through — tight, then loose, then she’s panting, eyes glassy. They sit up together, scissor hard, slick skin slapping. Faster, louder, fucking like they’re racing something. The final rush comes in desperate, wet strokes. Both girls jerk, come apart, fold down together, mouths locked, bodies gleaming.