Too tired?

Nelly Sullivan brought Candy home after they roamed the mall. Two tired girls, soles burning in their heels, but their hunger sat somewhere else entirely. Inside her place, the door barely clicked shut before Nelly pressed Candy against it, hands sliding up beneath soft fabric, hunting warm skin. Candy laughed a low breathy sound and then moaned when Nelly’s fingers found the slick heat between her thighs. Their bodies moved with unhurried greed—Nelly on her knees now, tongue parting Candy’s petite folds in slow, hungry strokes. Candy’s fingers knotted in blonde strands, hips rocking forward, chasing each wet press. They made it as far as the couch before clothes came off in lazy pulls and dropped to the floor. Skin to skin, nipples grazing nipples, thighs opening wide for each other’s hands, mouths, tongues. No hurry, no question—every lick and gasp said the same thing: they were here to fuck until the ache eased, until they’d both come hard and filthy in the quiet evening air.