Nasty ladies

Her silk briefs barely contain what's happening underneath. A tongue drags slow along the seam, then slips beneath. Fingers follow—two at first—working into heat, into wetness that slicks over knuckles. The second woman leans in, hips rising to meet the push, her thighs tensing each time the knuckles grind against her. Moans stick in her throat, thick and raw. Then someone’s mouth is there too, relentless, lips closing around the swollen nub and sucking until her back arches clear off the sheets. Every dirty thought they once kept hidden spills out now—wet sounds, stolen breaths, bodies twisting to take more.