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After The Last Dance

2024·37 min·95% liked·12.0K Views
Kasey Kei kicks the door shut behind her, tutu still bouncing like it can’t quite believe the show’s done. Her wife, Kimmy Kimm, flips the deadbolt with one finger. “I did it,” Kasey sighs, half smiling, half wincing. “Last curtain call ever.” She runs a hand over the stiff bodice. “If I peel this off, it’s official. Career: deceased.” Kimmy steps closer, toes brushing the hardwood. She’s still in street clothes, a thin top hugging her small chest, dark hairs peeking from under the hem. “Or,” she says, voice low and playful, “you give it a proper send-off.” She reaches for Kasey’s waist, unlacing the ribbons one slow tug at a time. The costume sighs open; cool air licks Kasey’s pale skin. Kimmy’s palm slips inside, tracing the soft swell of her wife’s small tits, thumbs circling until the nipples stiffen. Kasey exhales, hips tilting forward. Kimmy slides lower, fingers combing through the neat dark thatch between her legs. One fingertip finds the warm seam and parts it, sinking in with an easy glide. A moan slips past Kasey’s teeth. Kimmy sinks to her knees, then lowers onto her back and pulls Kasey over her face. The ballerina catches her balance on the wall, knees spread on either side of Kimmy’s head. Kimmy presses upward, tongue working slow circles while two fingers keep their gentle rhythm inside. The scent of sweat and stage powder mixes with something muskier. Kasey rocks, tutu rucked around her waist, toes curled against the floorboards. Every tiny thrust of Kimmy’s hand pushes little gasps out of her, short and sweet. When Kasey comes, the tremor runs from her pointed feet straight to her scalp. She laughs—breathy, surprised—and peels the costume the rest of the way off, tossing it over a chair like a flag of surrender. Kimmy wipes her mouth, grins up at her. “See? Easy. New chapter begins bare-assed and happy.” Kasey drops to straddle her wife’s stomach, fingers already tugging Kimmy’s shirt higher. Outside, the streetlights flicker on. Inside, the future looks wide open—and very, very naked.

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