Blossoms and bosoms

They chose the shade under the flowering bushes. Blonde and black-haired, both of them, one still young, one older. They pressed close together. Hands moved quickly. Fingers slipped inside lace. Mouths found nipples. Breasts spilled free, heavy and pale, and the women squeezed them hard, letting them fill their palms. The older woman bent low, tongue tracing slow circles while the younger one arched her back, offering herself. They took turns, licking and sucking, wet sounds rising between each breath. Skin flushed pink under the blossoms. The sun warmed them, but they only had eyes for each other’s bodies, lost in the feel of soft flesh against soft flesh.