Ass-lick whores

Bonita and Jacline sit facing each other on the bed, their eyes meeting across the short distance. Conversation has died down to nothing, the two of them already knowing every story the other has to tell. Bonita gives a small smile, then a single deliberate wink. Jacline answers with one of her own. No words pass between them. They both know what comes next. Blonde hair falling across her shoulder, Bonita leans in first and presses her lips to Jacline’s thigh, right above the lace edge of her stocking. Jacline parts her knees without hesitation. Bonita slides lower, settling on her stomach so her face is level with the soft cleft of Jacline’s ass. She spreads the cheeks gently with both hands, then runs her tongue from the tight ring of muscle up to the small of Jacline’s back in one long, wet stroke. Jacline’s breath catches; she arches slightly, pushing back against the wet heat. Bonita lingers there, licking slow circles around the hole before pressing the tip of her tongue inside. Jacline’s fingers twist into the sheets. The room fills with quiet, wet sounds and the low, steady breathing of both girls. Jacline’s hips roll in small movements, chasing the sensation. Bonita works deeper, tongue pushing in and out, lips sealed around the opening, tasting every inch. After a while Jacline reaches back and tugs Bonita’s hair, pulling her up so they can switch. Bonita turns, gets on her knees, and Jacline takes her place behind. She spreads Bonita the same way, tongue already extended before she even makes contact. She licks broad, flat strokes across Bonita’s asshole, then narrows to quick flicks that make Bonita’s thighs tremble. Jacline’s fingers dig into pale flesh, holding Bonita open so she can bury her tongue as far as it will go. Both girls stay in lingerie the entire time, stockings and garters framing everything, the black lace dark against flushed skin. They move back and forth, trading places twice more, until their chins shine and their breathing is ragged. The bed creaks under their shifting weight, the only other sound the soft, rhythmic lap of tongues against tight, willing flesh.