Doing the laundry

Gwen wanted to help Linda with the laundry in their new flat. Trouble was, she kept blocking the doorway with her armful of dirty sheets. They kept bumping into each other—hip to hip, chest to chest—until the washing machine clicked off. Linda reached around her to grab another pair of panties from the basket; Gwen felt the heat of those fingers graze her inner thigh and decided this was way more interesting than folded shirts. She tugged the elastic band aside, found Linda already slick, and pressed two fingers inside while the dryer hummed like background applause. Linda leaned back against the warm machine, knees parting wider, breathing hot against Gwen’s neck. Gwen pumped harder, knuckles brushing Linda’s clit on every stroke. Soon panties were tangled around ankles and the pile of clean laundry stayed scattered across the floor, forgotten, while Gwen’s mouth found Linda’s breast and sucked until Linda came with a soft, surprised laugh that echoed off the tile.