Black cats

Ginger and Kyra know the old saying, yet they wear black cats like an invitation. Ginger moves first. She cups Kyra’s heavy breasts, thumbs circling stiff nipples while her tongue drags slow along Kyra’s throat. Kyra answers with a low hum, fingers already sliding between Ginger’s smooth thighs, seeking heat. They sink onto the bed, blonde hair spilling over brunette as their mouths meet. Legs tangle. Wet skin glides. Ginger lowers herself between Kyra’s parted thighs, tongue stroking in steady circles until Kyra arches, gasping. Kyra pulls her up, turns her, and returns the favor, lips sealed around Ginger’s clit while her fingers thrust deep. The rhythm builds, hips rolling, moans rising until both women come together—bodies trembling, fingers still buried in one another.