Backstage of Nubiles

Candy and Mya dropped their bags on the bedroom floor and tugged their white blouses from the waistbands of those knee-length plaid skirts. Bras came off next. Candy’s nipples were dark and already tight, Mya’s a shade lighter but just as quick to stiffen under cool fingertips. They knelt on the bedspread, textbook forgotten, legs open. Mya reached first, sliding two fingers straight into Candy’s slick cunt. Candy’s hips jumped, then pressed down harder. A quick breath, a wet sound, and Mya pulled the fingers out, holding them up so both girls could see how they shone. Candy sucked them clean while her hand slid between Mya’s thighs, parted wet folds, found the swollen nub beneath. Their breathing steadied into the same rhythm. Mya’s thumb pressed slow circles over Candy’s clit. Candy’s middle finger circled, then sank deep into Mya, curling once inside the heat. The room filled with soft little gasps, the low creak of bedsprings, the gentle slap of skin meeting skin. Neither looked at the clock. They measured time by how wet their fingers got, how wide their thighs spread, how quickly the word biology dissolved into open mouths and quickening moans.