Tryouts

Ariana caught Halle completely off guard—sneaking in, hiding, leaping out when Halle least expected it. Now they’re alone, door locked, and Ariana can’t shut up about Coach Amy. “Bet she eats pussy,” she says, almost casual. Halle frowns. She doesn’t get that vibe, but the idea won’t leave her head. Ariana pushes further. “Ever play lesbian chicken?” Halle’s eyes narrow, curious. Ariana doesn’t wait. She leans in. Their first kiss is short. Halle jerks back. She thinks she should hate it, but when Ariana admits she liked the taste, Halle lets her do it again, slower this time, mouths open. The dare keeps climbing. Ariana pulls Halle’s shirt up and drags her tongue over a stiff nipple. Halle gasps, then returns the favor, quick and shy. Clothes vanish. Ariana touches herself first, fingers shining, urging Halle to match. Halle slips two fingers in, breathing faster, and then Ariana’s hand replaces them, working Halle open until she’s soaked and shaking. Ariana drops between Halle’s thighs and seals her mouth on the smooth, wet skin. Her tongue is merciless—pressing, flicking, sliding lower, then higher again. Halle’s legs start to jerk. When she comes, the sound tears out of her, raw and loud. The “game” is gone. Halle’s chest heaves. “Winner gets an orgasm,” she pants, then crawls between Ariana’s legs. She licks like she’s starved, sucking Ariana’s clit in firm pulses until Ariana’s hips lift and break, wet heat spilling over Halle’s tongue. They stay on the floor, breathing hard, bodies tacky with sweat and slick, no points left to keep.