Bikini cuties

Summer hit. Bikinis lined up. Dalila peeled her shirt off, stepped into the first one, adjusted the triangle cups over heavy breasts until the nipples pressed hard against the thin fabric. Selina sat on the edge of the bed, legs apart, watching the lace slide down Dalila’s hips and catch between her thighs. The bottom was tiny. It framed the soft curve of her ass and dug into the cleft as Dalila turned, checking the fit. Another twist, another pull of the string. Dalila arched her back and the fabric stretched, nipples clearly outlined now, areolas dark against pale cloth. Selina felt heat coil low in her belly. She imagined hooking a finger in that string, tugging until the tiny knot gave. Pictured sinking to her knees, pressing her mouth to the warm swell of Dalila’s mound through the bikini, tasting skin and chlorine and salt. She bit her lip, shifted closer on the bed, eyes fixed on the way Dalila’s thighs brushed together every time she leaned in to fix the mirror reflection. They hadn’t spoken a word about it, but the room had gone still, charged, waiting for the next pull of a string.