Good morning sex

Morning light hits warm skin. Denise reaches for Morgan before either of them speaks. Their mouths meet, hungry, slow. Morgan’s hand slides between Denise’s thighs and finds her already wet, folds slick and open. Denise answers by cupping Morgan’s heavy breast, squeezing, rolling the nipple until it tightens under her palm. Fingers move in unhurried circles, pressing deeper, drawing soft, wet sounds from both of them. Every shift of hips brings them closer. Morgan pushes two fingers inside, curling them just so, and Denise moans into her mouth. Their bodies press together, heat against heat, slick skin and soft curves. The room smells of sleep and want. Neither speaks. The wet, steady rhythm of their hands says everything. A woman could slip between them and never leave.