Smooth Like Mine

Margarette glances at the razor and smiles. Forty-eight and finally brave enough. Lana kneels between her spread thighs, warm breath brushing bare skin. Her hand stays steady as she clears the last dark curls, flicking the blade across soft folds until Margarette’s pussy gleams pink and new. She presses a fingertip against the fresh smoothness and laughs quietly. “Same as mine.” Margarette hooks two fingers behind Lana’s neck and draws her close. Tongue meets skin—no stubble, only heat and velvet. Lana answers with the flat of her tongue sliding low, gathering slick, then circling her clit until Margarette’s breath catches. The older woman’s hips lift, chasing that rush. She pulls Lana up, rolls her onto her back, and feasts in return, nose buried in downy curls, savoring the faint salt of Lana’s want. They twist together, thighs across cheeks, mouths locked in steady rhythm. Age slips away, numbers irrelevant when every slow suck and flick draws tighter moans. They trade places until the slick sounds of fingers and tongues braid into one long pulse of pleasure.