Breakfast of Champions

Bridgette and I walked into the hotel breakfast room the next morning. Still buzzing from the show, we started making our sandwiches at the counter. The moment her fingers brushed mine, we both knew food wasn’t what we really wanted. Within seconds she had me pressed against the kitchen island, tongue sliding into my mouth while her hand slipped beneath my dress. I tugged her robe open and cupped her breast, thumb brushing over the stiff nipple. She moaned and dropped to her knees, pulling my panties aside to lick between my legs. I tasted salt on my own lips. Then she stood, spun me around, and bent me over the counter. She licked my ass, slid two fingers inside me, and worked me until I came hard, grinding against her hand. When I caught my breath, I turned, spread her open on the marble, and ate her until she trembled. Her blond hair stuck to her flushed cheeks. Her brunette friend. We never finished those sandwiches.