Carrots

My mum swears carrots keep your eyes sharp. I hate the taste. Kamilla found a better use. We were naked on the kitchen counter, legs open, taking turns burying our faces between each other’s thighs. She slid a peeled carrot inside me, slow and slick, then pulled it out and licked it clean before pushing it back in. I did the same to her, watching the orange shaft disappear between her folds. Juice ran down the counter. Our moans filled the room. If mum walked in now she’d see two hungry girls making lunch out of each other.