Give Joy

Laney and Hazel sprawl on the couch. Mouths mash, tongues slide wet. Fingers work deep, knuckles flash, juice runs thick down their thighs. Pussy lips drag together, hair grinding hair, clits pounding in short fierce jabs. Sweat beads, moans crack out raw. Every slick stroke pulls another shudder free, another gush. They don't slow down; they keep at it until the couch cushions are dark with wet spots and their legs shake useless. Later they drag themselves to the bedroom, still wet, and start again.