Fresh Feeling

Laney had Luci pinned against the foggy shower glass before the water even warmed up. Their bodies slammed, slipped, slid. Fingers dove between wet folds, finding heat, finding rhythm. Lanc ripped her thigh up, and Luce's foot—wet, slick—ground right over Laney's mouth. Her tongue worked every toe, messy, hungry. Lu curled two fingers deep inside, knuckle-deep, loud with every pump. Soapy tits rubbed against soapy tits, bellies sliding, hot water cascading right where tongues met skin. They're face-first in armpits now, licking soap and salt like it’s candy, then Laney drops to her knees, nose deep between Luce’s cheeks. She mouths every wet inch, tongue tracing ridges, breath coming in short frantic pulls. Luce laughs, moans, pulls her hair harder—only turns Laney on more. They flip. Luce’s mouth finds Laney's arch again. Every soak, every slosh, every slick motion, pure mad lust against the tile. They leave no spot untouched—heat, slick, soap, kisses going from furious to filthy to just plain lost. Light bounces off shoulders, thighs, asses marked with the heat. By the time the water cools, the glass is more streak and smear than clean.