Lez affair - part II.

A woman knows. She presses slow, open-mouthed kisses against her lover’s inner thigh until the other girl’s breath stalls. Her tongue traces the damp crease there, small licks, nothing hurried. When fingers follow, they part and stroke, finding every slick fold with calm certainty. The pleasure builds like heat beneath silk. One girl arches, hips lifting, thighs trembling around her lover’s head. Whatever she wants, she takes greedily, and whatever she takes only leaves her craving the next touch, the next slow, deliberate taste.