Summer Days

Matty shows up in black jeans and that faded band tee, the one stretched thin over her tits. Bernie opens the door and they laugh about nothing, already half tipsy from the heat of being this close. They trade teases over greasy tacos at the corner booth. Then silence hits. Heavy. Matty's tongue runs slow across her lower lip and Bernie tracks it like a target. They ditch the diner and end up in Bernie's dim apartment, door slammed shut behind them. Clothes come off fast. No patience left. Matty pushes Bernie down on the couch, palms greedy on skin, mouth on Bernie's neck, teeth dragging. Her thigh slides between Bernie's, and the moment she finds her wet heat, both of them curse at the same time. Bernie grabs Matty's ass and yanks her in tighter, hips grinding against the firm press of Matty's thigh, breath sharp and desperate. Matty's hand snakes down, two fingers pressing between slick folds, circling hard, then driving deep. Bernie throws her head back, hips bucking up to take it, a moan cracking open in her throat. Fingers and mouths everywhere. Sweat. Noise. Matty fucks her steady, then hard, knuckles slick with it. Bernie claws at the couch cushion, thighs shaking. She comes messy, loud, grabbing Matty's wrist to make sure those fingers stay buried until the pulses ride out. Matty kisses her through it, lips rough, then swings a leg over so Bernie can shove two fingers inside her next, thumb on her clit, until she's cursing and spilling over her hand too.