Lola Loves Adriana

She takes me by the hand, long legs moving smooth beneath golden skin. Inside the bedroom she strips my clothes fast, pushes her tongue deep, drags my hair back while her hand meets my ass once, sharp and bright. She already knows. She guides me down on my stomach, parts me with both thumbs, and presses her warm mouth right there. The first wet lick draws a sound I can't catch. I try to pull away but the second slide of her tongue roots me still. Heat grows, then need, then hunger I didn't own before. She wets one finger with spit, circles, pushes slow. It stings, then sparks, then slides deeper. A second finger follows, stretching me open, searching until my back arches against the mattress. She replaces them with a glass plug, slick and cool, pressing it past the ring until I clench around it. Each shallow thrust inside me pulls tighter, warmer, wetter until every pulse seems to begin in that small hole. The orgasm rips from nowhere, low and broad, shuddering up my spine and emptying my lungs. When she pulls the toy free I turn her over, knees spread, and repay the lesson. I spit where she’s slickest, tongue the tight ring until it gives, slip two wet fingers inside her heat. She pulses around me, and I learn how to read the tremble before it blooms. We trade the rhythm back and forth until both mouths are glossy and every breath tastes like salt and skin.