Lakeside L'amour

End of summer, and Margo and Agata decide the light is perfect. They strip down without fuss. Oil comes first, slick on their skin, turning golden under the heat. Margo starts at the shoulders, works downward with slow, firm strokes. Her fingers glide beneath the swell of breasts, slide along the inside of thighs, never hesitating when they reach softer places. Agata parts for her, breathing sharper as oil coats every crease. Soon the line between care and hunger disappears. Margo’s fingers slip between Agata’s lips, stroking the tender core until Agata trembles. The younger girl answers with eager hands, sliding two slick fingers inside the older woman, curling against her walls while her thumb circles the swollen clitoris. They find a steady rhythm on the warm towels: open thighs, wet folds, skin pressed slick. Margo groans, low and gritty, when Agata’s mouth replaces her fingers, tongue broad and wet, flicking, sucking, tasting salt and oil. Agata moans against the flesh, the vibration making Margo’s hips buck. They roll together, old and young locked in one continuous motion, slick limbs entwined, thighs clamped around fingers, tongues, lips, no pause until both of them come hard and loud in the bright afternoon sun.