Two's Company, Three's Allowed: Part One

Aaliyah’s heart kicked against her ribs when Bob’s name lit up her phone. HR. That could only mean trouble—something about permits, schedules, or one of those stupid rules that mattered more than the bodies in the room. She answered, voice tight, every nerve already on edge. The moment the call dropped, the door clicked and Kissa slipped inside. They locked eyes and the mask fell. Weeks of hiding ended right here with two hours before anyone else showed up. Kissa shoved her back against the wall, tongue already driving deep, tasting every lie they’d been feeding Bob and the rest of them. Their hands tore at buttons and zippers, fabric hitting the floor hard, nipples stiff and flushed. Kissa dropped low first, mouth closing hot around the soft peaks, sucking hard until Aaliyah groaned. They switched fast, lips and teeth dragging lower. Kissa bent over the low couch, back arched, letting Aaliyah spread her ass and press a slick tongue straight against the tight, wrinkled hole. Aaliyah rubbed tight circles over Kissa’s swollen clit while she lapped, begging for the same treatment. They twisted, taking turns, tongues stroking each other’s folds and holes, spit shining on flushed skin. Soon they climbed together onto the table, thighs locked, cunts sliding hot and wet against each other. Every slow grind dragged slick folds over swollen clits until their moans climbed into raw, ragged cries. Fingers dipped in, tongues chased taste, pressure built, crashed, tore through both of them, wetness spilling, bodies shaking together in the stolen time they still owned.