I'll Change Your Mind, You'll See

Lulu's got Hime cornered in the bedroom again, this time pushing massage oil and that cocky grin. Hime hates the whole scene—strangers with too much lotion, fake wind chimes, money gone for nothing. Lulu swears it's different when she does it. She pushes until Hime rolls her eyes and peels off her clothes. Face down on the sheets, bare skin glowing, Hime braces for boredom. Lulu pops the cap. Warm oil hits the small of Hime's back, trickles down the cleft of her ass. Lulu's hands glide after it, slow at first, then firmer. Thumbs drag along the tight muscles above Hime's cheeks, spread her open just a little, brush so close Hime's breath catches. Down the thighs next—calves, the tender skin behind her knees—then back up again, full palms cupping, kneading. Every stroke pulls heat straight between Hime's legs. She presses her hips down, trying to stay still. Doesn't work. Her clit throbs against the sheet, wet, and her breath comes ragged. Lulu feels it too. She dips lower, two slick fingers gliding over the soft outer lips, parting them, dragging oil and slick together in long strokes that never quite touch the swollen clit aching for friction. Hime's hips twitch anyway. Lulu leans close, voice low. "Want the happy ending?" Hime groans into the pillow and nods hard. Lulu smiles against her ear, spreads her wider, and finally drags the pad of her thumb in slow circles right where Hime needs it—hard, wet, filthy—and doesn't stop till Hime's shaking, legs spread, sheets clenched, cursing like she's the one who just discovered religion.