Stop Teasing And Get Over Here

Mona Blue slips into the lace that Tiffany brought her. The two of them peel it right off again, mouths already locked, hands busy. They fall onto the sheets in a slow grind, hips rolling, thighs spreading. Fingers slide in next—shallow at first, then deeper, finding that wet give. Mona arches. Tiffany watches. They stay close, breathing into each other while the rest of the afternoon disappears between their legs.