Lesbian dreamworld

She had heard the talk for years—how one woman’s hands could rewrite what bodies knew. The first touch confirmed it. A slow palm against her belly, then sliding lower until two slick fingers parted her and found the spot that made her gasp. A tongue followed, warm and insistent, tracing the swollen bud in tight, deliberate circles. She stopped thinking. Her hips lifted, chasing the rhythm, the wet heat spreading through every nerve until the world narrowed to breath, mouth, and the steady push of those fingers stroking inside her. One deep press sent her over, shaking, a raw cry caught against the other woman’s tongue while pleasure tore through her in long, rolling waves.