Hypnotic Curves

She strips like she's peeling skin. Those tits hit the air heavy and hard, full, soft, aching for teeth. The other girl watches, tongue sliding over her lip like she already tastes skin. They move slow. Too slow. Hips first, then shoulders, then the kind of sway that pulls your eyes in and won't let go. Fingers trace curves like they own them. Palms cup warm weight, squeeze until flesh spills between spread hands. Tongues follow. Wet. Greedy. One mouth closes over a nipple and sucks like it's drinking something she needs. The other arches, moans, digs fingers into dark hair and holds her there. They fuck like they're starving. Skin slapping, sweat mixing, thighs locked and grinding. One rides the other's thigh while fingers fuck deep, slow at first, then harder, until the sounds get filthy and wet. They come together like it hurts to hold back, bodies shaking, mouths open, eyes locked like neither one wants to miss a second. No one's watching the clock. Just bodies. Just breath. Just the next moan begging to happen.