Backstage for Girls at the barn

In the sticky heat behind the barn Zafira peels her damp top over her head. Sweat gleams between her breasts. Sophie steps forward, trousers open, the leather belt trailing from her fingers. They lock mouths and trade spit, hungry. Zafira yanks Sophie’s jeans to her knees, buries two fingers between wet lips, works her open until the thighs shake. Then she drops, tongue replacing fingers, tracing quick circles over the swollen clit while she grips Sophie’s ass and pulls her closer. Sophie’s moan stretches long and low. When Zafira stands she’s smiling, nipples hard, eyes dark. She turns, bends over the hay bale, and Sophie steps behind her. She spits into her hand, slicks herself, and pushes in steady until she’s buried to the hilt. Hips slap. Each thrust knocks the soft hay. Sophie’s hand moves under Zafira, finds her clitoris, keeps time with every stroke. Their breathing turns ragged. When Sophie’s fingers speed up, Zafira comes first, cunt clenching, voice cracking around her lover’s name. Sophie follows right after, biting her shoulder, pumping until her legs waver. They stay there, tangled, the smell of sweat and leather thick in the air.