Scissors, paper, stone

Scissors beats paper. Paper covers stone. But when three girls play on a sunlit afternoon, the real game starts the second someone loses. A blonde and a brunette sit knee to knee with a slighter third—her face still soft with youth. The blonde’s fingers drum the loser’s thigh; the brunette leans in, breath warm on flushed skin. They peel her clothes away slowly, mouths following hands, until she’s spread open and quivering. One tongue drags along her slit while the other traces slow circles over her nipples. The losers are made to give back every pleasure they receive—fingers sinking into slick heat, lips parting around wet flesh—until their small bodies twist and buck, lost to the rhythm the winners set.