Prison Love

Ivana knows the rule. Guards do not touch prisoners. So does Mira. Rules lose fast when their mouths meet the bars and taste the breath behind them. The cell gives a strip of privacy when the night shift dims the lights, and they use every inch. Mira presses forward, cunt wet against cold iron, while Ivana drops to her knees on the other side. Her tongue slips through the gap, finds slick lips, licks slowly, then deeper. Mira spreads for her, breathes hard, knuckles white around the bars. Each slow stroke drags heat across swollen skin. Wet sounds fill the narrow space, quick and filthy. Ivana moans against Mira's flesh, the vibration sending a shiver up the bars. Mira answers by grinding closer, pressing as much of herself through the narrow opening as she can. She comes first, quiet and sharp, thighs twitching. Ivana stays there, licking through the pulses, until Mira yanks her head back with one shaky hand. Now the bars belong to Ivana. She stands, steps out of her uniform, cunt glistening. Mira kneels. Her tongue reaches through, finds Ivana's clit, circles and sucks. Ivana holds the iron with both hands, hips rocking forward. She bites her lip to stay quiet. Mira works faster. Ivana comes in waves, trembling, cunt pulsing against Mira's open mouth. When they finally break apart, both women breathe like they have run, mouths shining, cunts still hot. Rules stay outside the bars, ignored. The cell keeps its silence, except for two women who already want more.