Hungarian passions

Two Hungarian women sink into silk sheets with a bottle of deep red wine between them. The blonde, hair spilling over bare shoulders, wears black lace that barely covers her breasts. The brunette watches her over the rim of her glass, dark eyes heavy. They lean in. Soft lips part. Wine-sweet tongues meet. The brunette's fingers trace lace straps, slip them down, and free heavy breasts that fill her palms. She bends, licks one stiff nipple, sucks until the blonde moans and arches. The blonde pulls the brunette closer, slides a thigh between hers, presses silk against wet silk. Fingers tug at garters. Panties are peeled aside. The blonde's hand finds slick heat and rubs slow circles. The brunette gasps, rocks against those fingers, and reaches down to return the favor. Two hands work in rhythm. Bodies twist. Thighs tremble. The blonde comes first, breath catching, then the brunette follows, mouth open against her lover's throat.