Lesbian Sports-Widow

Angela's locked on the TV, that last-game-of-the-season fix she's got. Shyla's waving their anniversary like a white flag, voice getting tight. No give. Shyla presses in, climbs into her wife's lap, drops little kisses on her throat. Zilch. Eyes straight ahead. Shyla sheds everything, skin against denim, then yanks Angela's sweats down and buries her mouth between those thighs. Still nothing but crowd noise and halftime chatter. Shyla pushes harder, tongue working like she's chasing a final score, slick and greedy. That hits. Angela's hand finds the back of Shyla's head, TV forgotten. They tangle on the couch, trading mouths and wet heat, riding faces, both chasing the win.