No Sore Losers

Chanel Camryn and Victoria Voxxx settle in for the game, but their teams are sworn enemies. Last time this happened it almost ended in a wrestling match on the couch, so Victoria has a new rule: every score means the winner plants a kiss on the loser. Simple. No bruises, no silent treatment. It works like a charm. After the first touchdown they trade a quick peck. Second touchdown, the kiss lingers. By the third, tongues are brushing and breath is short. Chanel’s team pulls ahead; Victoria still steals her share of lip time. Before long the remote is forgotten and they’re trading slow, wet kisses that make their thighs press together. Half-time arrives and so does the itch they can’t ignore. Clothes come off in a clumsy rush. Victoria’s natural tits fill Chanel’s palms while fingers slip between her legs, curling and coaxing slick, desperate sounds. Chanel swings around, spreads, and the sixty-nine clicks into place like it was the plan all along. Tongues lap, lips suck, fingers pump. Victoria climbs higher, seats her pussy on Chanel’s face, and rides while her own mouth stays busy between Chanel’s thighs. Every rock of hips pulls a muffled moan from the woman underneath; every flick of tongue makes Victoria’s toes curl. They trade places twice more, chasing the next point the only way that feels fair: face buried, thighs shaking, both of them winning and losing at the same time.