Nineteen Now

Kacey had been planning her nineteenth like it mattered. The games. The cake. The lights in the garden. She poured weeks into a night that vanished the second Marina and Dakota showed up and stole it. By nine the room belonged to them. Kacey slipped away, cheeks burning, heels in one hand. Skylar followed. "They took your party," she said in the dark. "Let me give you something they can't." They returned to Skylar's room. Spin the bottle started for a laugh and ended with the bottle pointing dead at Kacey. Skylar didn’t wait. Mouth on hers, warm and sure, and then hands found straps, lifted fabric, pushed soft cotton aside. Kacey’s shaved cunt bloomed open under Skylar’s tongue—slick, flushed, already swollen. Skylar worked in steady circles, flat of the tongue, then quick tip flicks, reading every twitch. Kacey’s thighs trembled. Her moan climbed, broke, dropped low again. Skylar kept licking. They switched. Skylar stripped, planted her knees beside Kacey’s shoulders, lowered onto her mouth. Kacey tasted her like she had been starving, tongue broad, then sharp, nose buried in the soft bush above. They masturbated against each other’s lips, wet sounds filling the quiet room, breathing jagged, hips rolling. Skylar stayed between Kacey’s legs until her clit pulsed hard and steady under her tongue, orgasm dragging out in tight, silent bursts. Later, tasting herself on Kacey’s mouth, Skylar grinned. "Tell them to keep the cake." Downstairs, the music thumped on. Nobody noticed the two girls who already got the best of the night.