Under the blue sky

Blue sky stretched above Carla as Violette pressed between her legs. Grass pressed soft prongs against Carla's spine, then her thighs, sliding like possessive hands. Violette's mouth slid lower. She parted Carla, licked once, then stayed there, tongue working slow, steady circles. Carla gasped into the open air, the empty space catching every sound. Their hips rocked together, no blanket between skin and ground, only the scent of crushed clover and warm earth. Carla reached down, tangled fingers in Violette's hair, urging her closer. The garden did not care. Wind moved over them both, light, indifferent, while Violette's mouth took its time, and Carla's pulse beat harder against the grass.