The Sisterly Touch

Zoey Taylor shifts from foot to foot outside Kagney Linn Karter’s front door, pulse hammering. At the wedding the girl couldn’t keep her eyes—or her hands—off her. Now they’re under the same roof again, and Zoey’s husband is all polite nods while Kagney’s stare never leaves the bride’s tits. Kagney doesn’t ask twice. She points at the padded table and orders Zoey stripped. Oil already glistens on the blonde’s palms. Zoey peels everything off, lies face-down, heart knocking. Kagney’s fingers dig into her bare ass, strong, slow circles that work the muscle loose and get closer to heat every pass. When she orders the turn-over, Zoey hesitates, then rolls. Nipples bead the second oil slicks over them. Kagney’s thumbs trace the slope, roll over stiff peaks. She drags slick fingers lower, parts the outer lips, coats the inner ones, never breaking eye contact. Hubby mumbles something about a phone call and steps out. Door clicks. Kagney’s mouth is on Zoey before the car even backs down the drive—tongue flat, broad, right over the swollen clit. Zoey’s back bows, a broken sound catching in her throat. The first long lick makes her thighs spread wider on their own. Embarrassed heat crawls up Zoey’s chest, but her hands still reach. She pushes Kagney down, buries her face between slick folds, tasting metal-sharp and sweet. Kagney curses, fingers knotting Zoey’s hair. They roll, legs tangling. Hips meet, clits grind, wet heat sliding fast and filthy until the table creaks under every vicious thrust of Zoey’s pelvis and every answering buck of Kagney’s. Moans fill the room, raw, hungry, nothing left to hide.