Girlfriends

Lorna and I share a flat and a history. Same man once, until he lied to both of us. After that we turned to each other. Safer. Hotter. No explaining, no apologies. Tonight she appears in the bedroom wearing nothing but sheer white lace that barely covers her small tits and rides low on her hips. The room smells like her lotion. I’m already on the bed, hair still damp, naked. She walks straight to me, kneels, and kisses my mouth slow and open, tongue flicking against mine. Her hands slide down my waist, cup my ass, and pull me closer until our breasts press together. I tug the thin straps off her shoulders; the bra slips down. Her nipples are tight and pink. I lick one, then bite it, and Lorna’s breath catches. She pushes me onto my back, peels her panties off, and climbs over my face. I taste her right away, salty-sweet, slick on my tongue. She rocks her hips, grinding against my mouth while her fingers slide between my legs. Two fingers slip inside me, curling, pumping slow. I moan into her cunt and she answers with a shaky laugh. We switch places without a word. Now it’s my turn to straddle her, her tongue flicking my clit while I lean forward and finger her again. Our thighs tremble. Every few seconds one of us gasps a little louder. The sheets grow damp beneath us. She comes first, thighs clamping my hand, breath hot against my pussy. Then I let go, riding her mouth until my legs shake and everything tightens. We stay tangled, kissing softer now, tasting each other on our lips. Outside the window the city hums. Inside, everything is quiet and warm.