Lessons learned

The brunette comes at her hard. Dana leans in, hands first, like she already owns her. Elsa just stands there—pale, small, soft—mouth parted like she's still waiting for permission to breathe. Their mouths meet. Dana gives nothing away, just takes. That kiss pulls tight, feels sharp and wrong in the best way. Dana drops. She's on her knees now, grinding slow, deliberate. First the feet, then the toes, sucking each one until her spit shines off the arch. She leaves nothing untouched. Moves higher. Her tongue drags over Elsa's thighs, and when she gets to that smooth cunt, she doesn't pause, just buries in like a starving dog on warm meat. Elsa comes hard. Hips buck, mouth wide, no sound for a second. Then it hits—moaning, whimpering, begging with her whole body. She lets it spill, no shame, just heat. But she's not done. No. She crawls between Dana's thighs like she needs it. Fingers dig in. Tongue finds that slick, neat cunt and starts working. Dana shudders once, twice, then lets go. A groan rips out of her and doesn't quit till she's done shaking. Not long after, they're facing off—fingers deep in each other's wet, grinding to the edge again like neither one remembers whose turn it is to lose.