Dream without limits

Victoria leans into it. All the way in. She doesn't flinch when the thought comes. Instead she follows the slick heat blooming between Ally's thighs, following the place her own lips have just wet. Ally answers with the same intent, her mouth moving without hesitation. They don't make it precious. They take. Tongues working deep, breath pushing out hot across swollen skin. Ally rocks her hips up so Victoria can press harder, suck harder. Victoria tastes the salt-slick, the slow slip of spit and need. Her own sex tightens when Ally moans against her—low, unguarded. Every so often one of them pauses, not to stop, but to feel the throb they just pulled free. They keep going. No flourish, no pretense. Just the wet sound of it, the sharp give when fingers slide in, the shake that starts at the knees and climbs. They finish when the tremors hit, not when some idea of perfect does. Messy, direct, unashamed.