Girls' night in

Rain traps them inside. The blonde kicks off her heels, lets the silk robe slip open. Underneath, sheer black lace clings to every curve. She pours two glasses, hands one to her girlfriend, then steps close enough that the tips of her breasts brush the other girl’s bare shoulder. They trade slow kisses first—teasing, tasting. The blonde’s fingers slide under the hem of her friend’s camisole, roll the nipple until it stiffens. The brunette answers by easing the robe down, baring the blonde from collarbone to the soft swell of her ass. They move to the couch. The blonde stretches out, legs parted; the brunette kneels between them, tongue flicking the already slick seam. Every wet stroke makes the blonde’s hips lift and fall. She moans, loud enough to echo off the empty walls. She pulls the brunette up, flips their positions. Her mouth finds a breast, sucks hard, then trails lower until her tongue meets damp lace. She pushes it aside and licks straight through the folds, tasting every pulse. Fingers replace tongues. Two inside the brunette, one working her clit in tight circles. Their breathing grows ragged, the air thick with the scent of sex. When they come, it’s together, trembling, clutching, laughing between gasps. The rain keeps falling. They stay on the couch, legs tangled, night far from over.