Wet vixens

I never expected swimming to feel so dangerous. But with my bathing suit still damp and barely clinging to me, suddenly she was behind me, her fingers tugging at the thin ties on my back. One gentle pull and the fabric slipped from my shoulders, the wet top falling away between us. My nipples tightened in the cool air, and she leaned in, the heat of her breath on my neck. Another tug freed my bottoms as they slid down my thighs, and I stepped out of them, dripping and bare. She pressed against me, her own suit still wet from the water, her nipples grazing my back as her hands traced my waist. Every nerve sparked at once, each touch feeding the slow burn that pooled between my thighs.