A Fool for Love: Part One

Rebel follows Sara like a shadow, can't drag her eyes off that ass. Every curve pulls her in. She wants to bury her face between those cheeks and never come up for air. No way she says it out loud though—Rebel freezes up just thinking about words like that. Today the house is empty. Sun pounding down, nobody watching. They slide into the hot tub. Rebel can’t help it. She asks what Sara and her boyfriend do out here alone. Petty move, yeah, but the envy tastes sweet anyway. Sara talks about splashing, sunbathing, the usual stuff. Then she says she never liked the guy that much. Rebel’s pulse spikes. Maybe—just maybe—she isn’t the only one losing sleep. Sara drops it flat: she’s wanted to touch Rebel for months, knew Rebel felt it too. Rebel can’t breathe. Sara grabs her, shushes her, orders her mouth everywhere. Rebel’s top comes undone, nipples pinched between Sara’s fingers. Sara tells her to suck—hard—and Rebel does it like she’s starving. Bottoms get tossed; Rebel bends over, bare and dripping. Sara’s fingers tease at first, circling slick folds, barely dipping in. Rebel’s thighs shake. One long stroke and she comes apart, cries ripped from her throat. Then Sara plants that pussy over Rebel’s face, hips grinding down, telling her to lick until she breaks. Rebel works her tongue, desperate, shaking. She swears she must be dreaming because nothing real ever felt this dirty, this sudden, this perfect.