Playing for you

Tracy Pearl and Whitney Conroy still look sweet even with the lace barely clinging to their hips. Their straps slide down by choice rather than accident. They press together, lips brushing, hands at the small of the other's back. Every inch is deliberate, every slow grind meant for you to watch. Think about sliding your palms over the dip of Tracy's waist while Whitney watches and smiles, then reaching for Whitney's thigh and feeling her answer the touch. Heat comes off them in waves. They part for a second, panting, then dive back in, mouths open, tongues quick and slick. The wet sound mixes with their soft breaths as fingers slip inside mesh to find what they both want and what you could have if you only closed the distance. They pull back again, faces flushed, holding eye contact with you while their thighs remain tangled, still slick from the exchange, waiting.