Think of Pink

Taissia and Jessica lit us up that day, still enough to raise our pulse whenever the memory hits. Their young beauty, pink dresses and all, carried nothing innocent about it. Nothing remotely sweet survived once those dildos came out—sure ones sliding in, ridges catching, handles gripped hard, thrusts steady and close. Heat pressed in from the side lines, two fronts meeting in one mutual rhythm. Our skin buzzed hotter than the sun ever could. Half-lost, half-fixed to the lens we managed to switch on anyway.