Wet lesbians

Kayla and Sandy. They don't say the word love much, but it pours out of them anyway. Sandy's mouth takes the lead every single time her girlfriend pulls the strings on that tiny pink bikini bottom. The pool glints under the sun and one splash reaches their ankles, cooling nothing. Sandy's tongue is quick, then slow, then quick again, the slick noise louder than the water. She drags the flat of it between folds the way she likes to show off. Kayla's thighs tighten around her ears and release. She exhales like she's been holding it for hours. Every so often Sandy grins into the wet heat, lips shiny, chin slick, hair stuck to one cheek. Kayla's fingers dig into the lounge chair slats hard enough to leave little dents. The bikinis stay on, barely, just pulled aside, because watching the cloth cling afterward is part of the fun. Sandy slides two fingers in at the angle that always makes Kayla's stomach jolt and she uses her mouth on the swell above at the same time. The pool hums. The sun warms their backs. Kayla bites her own wrist so she doesn't call the whole building down with the sound she wants to make. Sandy keeps going like the water's nowhere and the clock can fuck itself.