Strawberry Girls

That strawberry is a promise. What follows is better. Bibi and Lana waste no time. They press together, mouths opening, breasts sliding warm and heavy against each other. Their legs part, then lock. Wetness meets wetness. Labia slide over labia. Every roll of their hips pushes slick folds together, clit against clit, until each girl is painting the other with the evidence of how badly she wants more. Tongues meet, part, return. Fingers find openings and push inside, curling, testing, demanding. No rush, just hunger. Juices glisten on their thighs, and still they move, chasing every pulse and shiver they can pull from each other.