Sleazy dream

Zafira sinks onto the mattress, lace straps sliding off her shoulders, the thin fabric catching at her hips. Blonde hair fans across the pillow. The other girl crawls over her, brunette strands brushing Zafira’s breasts as she kisses the pale skin there, sucking until it rises in a dark mark. Their lingerie tangles together, soft cotton and satin rubbing against bare thighs. Fingers slip inside waistbands, tug, and the pieces are gone. Zafira’s hands close around the girl’s ass, pulling her closer. She parts her legs wide and lets the brunette’s mouth travel down, hot breath, then tongue, sliding over her. The girl moans into her, hips rolling against the sheet. Zafira answers with a slow grind of her own, wetness meeting wetness. They shift until they are locked together, grinding, rocking, taking whatever pressure they can get. Sweat beads between them. Nails drag down skin. Every movement is greedy, deliberate, each small sound feeding the next. They come the way dreams allow it: sudden, messy, hips stuttering, mouths open, names lost in the air.