Meeting my girlfriend

Tasha paced the apartment until she could taste her own pulse. Early—always fucking early—and the seconds dragged their heels. Nadia let herself in and the room snapped tight around them. They reached at the same time, hands yanking skirts up, mouths crushing hard enough to bruise. Fingers slid through slick heat first, then Tasha’s hand curled tighter and her knuckles pressed in, guided by wet muscle and the low grunt Nadia made when her body opened. Switch. Tasha went to her back, thighs hooked over Nadia’s shoulders, and a warm tongue dragged along every fold before drawing her clit into a steady suck. The wet sounds were quick and blunt. Neither bothered stripping. Clothes bunched, bras still clipped, everything focused on the next push, the next lick, the hard grip of a free hand leaving red prints across an ass cheek. When fists finally sank deep they locked eyes above the sweaty lock of bodies, breathing sharp and matching like they’d both gone under.