Summa cum laude

Hazel and Linda aced finals, uniforms traded for skin. Their dorm room smells like lotion and sweat. They shut the door. No essays now. Just hungry mouths, fingers slick with spit, the wet slide of one girl working the other open. Hazel sinks two fingers past Linda's tight ring, curls them, works her until she shakes. Linda arches, bites her lip raw, then flips Hazel on her stomach. She licks her hole slow and filthy, tongue pushing inside, fingers spreading her wider. A slender plug follows, then a longer one, the kind that nudges deep and stays there while Hazel gasps into the pillow. Toys trade back and forth. Thick silicone, cold at first, warmed by body heat and steady strokes. They take turns holding each other's hips steady, counting the slow push and pull until thighs tremble. Hazel rides with her knees spread, Linda underneath, guiding the next thrust with a twist of her wrist. No lectures, no deadlines—just the sound of skin meeting skin and the soft, helpless noises they make when another inch slips in.