Pulling off her sandals and clutching them like heels removed during a night out, Lucia set them neatly beside the door where they basked in the warm sun. She rummaged in her tote for her phone before hanging the bag on a coat hook and springing onto the bed. After a morning spent on the hot beach the cool, soft sheets were a welcome relief and the click of her polished nails against the screen soon rang through the villa.
Behind her, Tammy slipped off her own sandals. They looked dull beside Lucia’s, which were all tassels and patterns, though Tammy had long since grown used to that: when your best friend was one of the most influential members of the clique, inferiority became second nature; when Lucia was around, Tammy might as well have been part of the furniture.
Not that she ever complained, of course. Their friendship was far too strong to be hampered by petty envy, and while Tammy could not deny a taste of Lucia’s luxurious life was enticing, she was still happy that one of them had achieved success even if it wasn’t her.
‘What’s on your mind now?’
Wrenched from her thoughts with a start, Tammy found Lucia eyeing her from the bed and realised she hadn’t heard a word. ‘Sorry?’
Lucia chuckled as she turned back to her phone. ‘You were staring at my shoes like they were about to start tap dancing. You suddenly developed a foot fetish or something?’
Tammy pulled a face and rolled her eyes. ‘That’s a hard no.’
‘Hey, I don’t judge. Give the fuck-eye to all the sandals you like, just maybe not mine, alright?’
Ignoring her, Tammy dumped herself down in an armchair at the foot of the bed. Her eyes fell on her friend and she found herself staring.
Reclining atop the sheets of the massive bed Lucia looked like a toddler nestled amongst her parents’ pillows. She had automatically shuffled over to her side of the bed, leaving Tammy’s section untouched. Like everything these days, the sight was a striking encapsulation of just how different they had become over the years, a metaphor for their disparate lives: Tammy’s sheets were smooth and neat, fastidiously tucked in with all the unyielding discipline of an army general, while Lucia lay among tangled linen waves, unkempt and chaotic.
It wasn’t the differences themselves that troubled Tammy, rather how quietly they had taken shape. It seemed like only yesterday that she and Lucia had been cut from the same cloth, stifling midnight giggles at sleepovers or passing notes of gossip in class. Now, on the other hand, nobody would ever have imagined they might have shared such a history, let alone that they might be friends.
While Tammy had increasingly devoted herself to her studies, abandoning hobbies and turning down social invitations in favour of revision, Lucia had taken a different path. Finding her place among the clique she had settled into a life of boys, parties and gossip – all the things Tammy had systematically cut out of her life. Somehow, even in the company of her bitchy clique sisters she had retained her kind heart. Tammy loved her for that, though she could not deny her envy of the respect Lucia had earned amongst their peers; there didn’t seem to be anyone who had a bad word to say about her.
By now their differences were as obvious as a queen and her handmaiden, yet by some miracle their friendship had survived the years intact.
That miracle was Lucia. Though Tammy could barely fathom why, Lucia had remained by her side with all the loyalty of a faithful hound, unwavering in her commitment. She had defended their friendship fiercely even against members of the clique, who had repeatedly encouraged her to ditch Tammy to no avail. Even now, while the rest of the clique lounged around indulging in all manner of sordid activities (there had been no shortage of sensual moans spilling from the clique’s villa as they passed it on their way back from the beach) Lucia had opted instead to spend the week with her, knowing full well all the fun she was giving up in the process.
Lucia caught her staring.
‘You’re doing it again.’ Tammy wasn’t sure how long she’d been zoned out, but her friend appeared to have been watching her for some time. ‘You look like you’re trying to turn me to stone.’ She placed down her phone and bounced to the end of the bed. Legs crossed, elbows on her knees, chin in her palms, she leaned forward like a child listening to a bedtime story. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’
Tammy waved her words away. ‘It’s nothing, really. Probably just a little sunstroke from the beach.’
Lucia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘You know you might be the smartest person I know, but you’re a terrible liar. We’ve been friends since we were five – I think I know you well enough by now to be able to tell when something’s wrong.’ She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. ‘Plus you spent all morning under the parasol. I suggest next time you try and lie to me you make it a bit more convincing. And don’t think I won’t tickle it out of you if I have to.’
Though she allowed herself a chuckle Tammy could not meet Lucia’s eyes. A wave of sadness washed over her and she sighed. No use in shutting her out too; she’s the only friend you have left.
‘Do you think we’d still be friends if we met now?’
For a moment Lucia said nothing. Tammy had been expecting some witty quip, but instead her friend leaned back, propping herself up on her hands and frowning. It looked as though she was chewing Tammy’s words.
‘No,’ she said at last. Tammy’s heart fell. Lucia must have noticed her friend’s miserable expression, for she continued hurriedly. ‘But that’s because I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t met you when I did. And if I’d never met you, I think you might be the one in the clique, not me.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Tammy frowned.
Her friend chuckled, fixing her with a warm stare. ‘Of course you don’t. I don’t think you ever have. But then I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud before, so now’s as good a time as any: thank you, Tammy. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.’
She shuffled forward a little, closing the gap between them. ‘Do you remember the day we met? The first day of school and I didn’t know how to react. The people, the classroom, even the noise – I was so scared of it all.
‘But you weren’t. I still remember it – you strode right up to me, stuck out your hand and introduced yourself.’ Lucia laughed at the memory. ‘I’d never met anyone so confident. I didn’t know what to do – I only shook your hand because I thought you’d shout at me if I didn’t. I asked you why you were talking to me and you said you didn’t like seeing people on their own, that everyone deserves a friend.
‘Until I met you I didn’t know who I was. But you taught me so much about what it means to live my life. You showed me how to be confident and brave and respectful. You showed me how to be who I wanted to be and get the best out of myself. How do you think I’ve even survived in the clique at all? Because you taught me how to stand my ground and stick to my beliefs. If we never met, I wouldn’t have learned any of that. I certainly wouldn’t be in the clique – but I think you might have been.’
Emotion welled in Tammy’s chest and though her eyes glistened she fought back her tears. ‘What are you talking about? Everybody likes you, Lucia. The clique, the jocks, the teachers, everyone. They wouldn’t even cross the street to spend time with me.’ She stared forlornly at their contrasting sandals by the door. ‘You’re a somebody. I’m a nobody.’
She flinched as Lucia took her hand. It was a warm gesture, as warm as the reassuring smile Lucia wore, yet Tammy found herself focusing on her friend’s long, glossy nails, perfected in expensive salons. In comparison, her own were dull and cracked. Am I jealous? Please, don’t let me jealous. She’s the only one I have left.
Lucia’s words took her by surprise. ‘You’re not a nobody to me, Tammy. You’re like the sister I never had. But I think I know why you see yourself that way. And it’s my fault.’
‘What? How can it be your fault?’
‘Oh, come on, you don’t think I didn’t notice, do you? It was only when I joined the clique that you started throwing yourself at your studies. I mean you were focused before, but once people started taking more notice of me it was like you became a different person. I don’t know what was in your head – maybe you thought you couldn’t compete with me or something – but eventually it was like you didn’t care about anything else.
‘That’s not what I wanted, I want you to know that. You gave me the confidence to become a part of the clique and I wanted you there with me. But I think my popularity pushed you into isolating yourself from everyone else. I think you forgot what it means to live because you didn’t think you could live up to the life you had helped me to forge for myself.’
Now the tears did fall, streaking Tammy’s face as she tried not to sob. The truth behind Lucia’s words stung, though she knew there was no use in denying them. All the same, she struggled to grapple with reality; she was a broken woman, she could see that, yet she hadn’t the first idea how to heal herself.
‘Why do you even bother with me?’ she said, her voice cracked with emotion.
There was that smile again, like a mother soothing her child. ‘I think you said it best: everyone deserves a friend. You made me the woman I am, you gave me this life – how could I ever give up on you?’
Tammy felt stupid and pathetic, but Lucia’s soft words and reassuring touch dispelled the worst of it. ‘Do you really think I could have been in the clique?’
‘Of course. And I think you still can.’
‘How? Everyone knows I’m not like you. No boy will voluntarily come within fifty yards of me and there’s not enough money on earth to bribe Harriet into liking me.’
Lucia laughed: a delightful sound, like birdsong at dawn. ‘Well what do you expect, going everywhere in plaid and baggy jeans?’ She plucked at Tammy’s checked red shirt. ‘Listen, you might have read every book in the university library, but I know what people want, and it isn’t money. Boys want a hot girl; Harriet wants confidence and swagger; and the clique wants someone who can own the room just by walking in.’
‘But, I don’t know about any of that stuff.’
Glee lit Lucia’s pretty features. ‘It’s a good job you’ve got me then, isn’t it? I think it’s high time I gave you a makeover. Nobody’s going to miss us if we don’t go back to the beach, so we have all night. Once I’ve finished with you the boys will be falling over themselves just to talk to you. And we’ll start with lingerie.’
Before Tammy could respond, Lucia had vanished into the walk-in wardrobe. The clatter of metal on metal rang out as she scoured the railings, intercut by a repetitive dull thud as she tossed aside anything that failed to meet her lofty standards. After a few minutes she emerged, grinning giddily while she clutched half a dozen sets of lace lingerie ranging in colour from midnight black to pastel pink. Like a market trader displaying her wares she spread them out over the bedhseets.
Somewhat reluctantly, Tammy joined her. She had not changed her look in years, and while she was appreciative of the gesture, she was just as nervous about making a fool of herself.
Lucia had no such reservations. One by one she held each set against Tammy’s body, muttering to herself incessantly as she did so. ‘No, no, not that one,’ she said, tossing aside a rich red bra. ‘Wrong shade,’ she continued, shaking her head at some lavender panties. ‘Too bright… not bright enough… oh that’s nice, but,’ she snatched up Tammy’s arm and held the lingerie against it, ‘no, not with your skin tone.’
Tammy wondered if this was how pageant contestants felt: awkward and out of place while someone with far more fashion experience buzzed around ensuring not a stitch was out of place. Severely out of her depth, she said nothing.
At last, Lucia gave a little shriek and waved a black lace set under Tammy’s nose. ‘These are the ones! They’re perfect. Oh, they’re going to suit you so well even Harriet will be jealous. And look, we can match!’ Thrusting the first into Tammy’s hands, she took up a second identical set and brandished it excitedly.
They weren’t the kind of underwear Tammy would have picked for herself, but then she supposed that was rather the point of a makeover. ‘Well turn around then,’ she said, noticing Lucia’s expectant stare. ‘Trying on underwear is one thing, but I’m not stripping for you.’ Lucia rolled her eyes but turned away, sloughing off her own clothes as she did so.
Tammy tried not to fall over in her haste to strip. Nervous as she was, unexpected excitement coursed through her system. Before now she’d have shunned the lingerie due to her belief that couldn’t pull it off, so having such a fashion savvy woman as Lucia insist they would suit her perfectly had sparked something inside her, a drive to show off her body she hadn’t realised was within her.
The lace was soft on her skin as she slipped her legs into the panties and slid them up. They were a snug fit, pressing tight over her sex. Skimpy too – the straps arcing over her hips were little more than cords while the panties themselves nestled between her legs exposing her ass and thighs, a far cry from her ordinary underwear.
The bra was equally tight, pushing her breasts into shallow cleavage. She was hardly the most well-endowed woman, but the lingerie did wonders for her figure and despite all her years hiding under baggy clothes Tammy found the soft embrace oddly comforting.
No, more than that: liberating.
She had never felt so sexy. Already her nerves had evaporated and she could barely wait to see what Lucia would pick out next. A shiver of arousal tickled her nape and it took her a moment to push it down.
‘You can turn around now,’ she said.
Upon admiring Tammy’s new look Lucia’s jaw dropped. Fawning over her like a starstruck groupie she babbled her compliments.
However, though Tammy saw her lips moving, she heard nothing. She was entirely encapsulated by Lucia’s stunning figure. The lingerie seemed to have moulded her frame into even more enviable curves and Tammy found she could not tear her gaze away. The black lace embellished Lucia’s natural beauty, hugging the lines of her body in such a way that Tammy’s eyes were drawn inexorably to her sexual assets. Her arousal rose again, and this time she made no effort to quell it. No longer a tickle on her nape, orgasmic heat bloomed through her thighs as she struggled not to squirm.
It seemed Lucia was similarly struck, for her words abruptly cut off and she bit her lip, surreptitiously pressing her legs a little tighter together.
Tammy could not explain it, but something about wearing the lingerie made her feel uncharacteristically mischievous. Lustful even. Her fingers twitched, desperate to caress Lucia’s tanned skin, and all manner of sordid images tumbled through her thoughts. Strangest of all, none of it felt wrong; she was ogling her best friend of almost two decades with eyes only for her crotch and cleavage, yet it all felt perfectly natural. Her mind elsewhere she barely noticed that the memories of their friendship seemed to be fading, blurry and indistinct as sensual longing began to overwhelm her.
The mental effects of the lingerie were swift and intense – so intense that the subtle physical changes went entirely unnoticed even while both friends stared directly at one another.
Both naturally beautiful, the lingerie had only to perfect the girls rather than transform them completely.
Lucia’s bright blonde dirtied into brunette locks so dark they almost matched the black lace of her underwear, while the few pockets of fat she had been unable to diet away shifted either up to her breasts or down to her hips to fill out her ass. The golden skin of a woman who prefers to sunbathe naked filled in the pale flesh of her tan lines, and the poorly healed scar of a nose stud she had tried out briefly a year earlier vanished, leaving her skin perfect and unblemished.
Opposite her, Tammy’s short brown bob had spilled over her shoulders and halfway down her back, the ends now light with grown out dye. Her figure underwent a similar shift, most of her excess weight migrating down to her ass and thighs. Her eyebrows cut into sharp, fastidiously plucked arcs, two small tattoos blossomed into being – one on her wrist, the other over her hip – and her nails took on a glossy sheen, the cracks and rips healing into expensive polished, rounded tips.
Their personalities held out just long enough for Tammy to push Lucia back onto her hands again. Crawling atop her, she clutched one of her friend’s breasts in one hand while running the other over her panties. Leaning in close she smirked as their lips brushed together.
‘I think it’s only fair that I thank you for helping me look so beautiful,’ she purred. Then their lips were locked together, their kiss deep and passionate. Their intimacy sealed the transformation: Tammy and Lucia crumbled away, and Tori and Lana were born.
The sisterly bond they had shared for so many years evaporated instantly, replaced by a powerful, all-encompassing lust. Tori’s grip tightened over her lover’s breast, squeezing it until fronds of white unfurled over the skin and a lip of plump flesh spilled over the cup of her bra.
Lana groaned into her mouth, her probing tongue freezing as arousal swelled through her. The groan became a strangled cry as Tori ground her fingers over Lana’s underwear, effortlessly locating her elusive clit and teasing it through the lace. Her brow furrowed and she broke away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her thighs twitched, the quivers rippling through Tori’s fingers.
Upon the ironic whim of the resort, the girls’ transformations had not simply fashioned new women of them but had laced their new personalities with echoes of their former lives – except now, their roles were reversed. Lana’s frown of pleasure was uncertain, the lines of her expression full of the same self-doubt and hesitation Tammy had recently worn, while Tori’s movements were deliberate and self-assured, her very aura bristling with Lucia’s confidence.
Grinning, Tori sat back on her haunches and allowed Lana to catch her breath. ‘This really is the first time you’ve been with a girl, isn’t it?’
Lana nodded meekly. ‘My ex was the only person I’ve ever slept with, and he said I was useless in bed. After him, I never thought anyone would want to be with me again.’
Tori knew what Lana was expecting: words of tender condolence, soft reassurances, perhaps a warm embrace to soothe her emotion. Yet none of that was what she needed. All they would succeed in doing would be to anchor her thoughts on her ex, her breakup, her insecurities; everything she should be putting behind her.
No, Tori knew exactly what she needed. And, diving forward, she relished in providing it.
Hooking a finger in Lana’s bra, Tori flicked it down faster than her lover could blink. Before the cool air could break over her exposed breasts, both were engulfed by Tori’s groping hands. Lana shivered as her nipples grew stiff, bolts of arousal searing through her chest as they raked over Tori’s palms. Tori’s fingers were hot, so hot she half expected to find her chest smothered in angry hand-shaped brands when she looked down.
Instead, she found Tori’s pretty features hovering just above her cleavage. ‘I’ll show you how much this someone wants to be with you,’ she said with a wink. The next second her hot lips were sealed over Lana’s nipple.
The room immediately echoed with wet sucking and slurping as Tori feasted. Her lips were tight as a plunger, anchoring her in place so her fiendish tongue could get to work probing and lapping and toying in a perpetual barrage of pleasure. And all the while she was feeding more into her mouth, bunching up Lana’s plush breast in her fingers and working it into her hot maw; Lana was reminded of a documentary she had watched once in which a snake slowly swallowed a deer, an image which Tori’s darting tongue only amplified.
The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her ex had never treated her so sensually, nor with such hunger – she hadn’t even realised the two could coexist this way. The extent of his foreplay had been short, reluctant bouts of fingering, and he’d never really seemed interested in sleeping with her at all, though she supposed that was unsurprising given how frequently he had been finding his satisfaction elsewhere.
And this was just the pleasure of her breasts. Even she knew her current arousal was nothing compared to what was to come, yet in that moment she could barely imagine any sensation more intense.
Her head lolled back as a long, low groan shuddered up from her chest. When she regained her strength she found she had instinctively lifted her hand, which now caressed Tori by the back of the head.
No, not caressed: controlled. She was pulling her lover in harder, pressing her breast into Tori’s face. Tori herself was barely visible anymore, just her eyes peering over a ridge of bunched flesh as her nose and lips buried themselves in Lana’s bosom.
Lana flinched, surprised by how easily lust had overtaken her. But Tori seemed thrilled by it.
‘That’s it,’ she purred, rising up to kiss Lana’s neck, her voice dripping with seduction, ‘take your pleasure from me. You want more, I know you do. Forget your nerves. Forget your doubts. It doesn’t matter who we were to one another – the only bond that matters is the one we have right now. And right now, we’re lovers.’
Sinking down onto the sheets, she lay on her back between Lana’s spread legs. Her hands coiled around Lana’s wrists and she smiled. ‘Here, let me show you what you’ve been missing.’
With a sudden jerk Tori pulled her down, her lips finding Lana’s breast once more. She suckled with less vigour this time, her tongue circling the areola as she gently nibbled the nipple, although the pleasure was no less intense. Rather than burst across her chest in flares that swiftly faded, it now swelled through Lana’s entire person, flushing her thighs with heat and setting her stomach turning.
But Lana barely noticed. She could focus on only one thing: Tori’s tit. Her lover’s breast filled her vision, the crown of her nipple barely a hair’s breadth from Lana’s lips. She burned with a hunger she had never experienced, a drive to suck she could barely restrain. With great effort, however, she resisted.
At least until Tori’s fingers tangled in her hair and guided her down. Her reassuring touch was all it took to shatter Lana’s fragile will, and in a heartbeat her lips had closed over Tori’s tempting nipple.
The effect was like flipping a switch. Arousal seared through her system while her body moved on instinct, lapping and sucking needily on Tori’s sweet nub. Without even thinking she seemed to know the best technique with which to twirl her tongue, the perfect pressure to pull more into her lips.
While her body acted on its own volition, her thoughts tumbled in a lustful haze. Tori’s words had pulled old memories to the surface: their first meeting in college, the excitement of starting university together, the many drunken parties and late nights sat up bingeing television. Their friendship had endured for years, as strong now as when they first met – even after leaving university behind they had moved in together, each forging their own path in life with their closest confidante by their side.
For the first time, Lana saw their bond in a different light. They weren’t friends, they never had been. In truth they had been lovers since the day they met, it had merely taken them time to realise it. Theirs was a story she had seen or heard countless times before, in films and books and romantic anecdotes: two friends, as close as two people could be outside of love, searching for meaning, only to one day realise their perfect partner had been by their side since the beginning.
Tori had known for a while, that much was obvious to her now. For months Lana had noticed her friend stealing glances at her, mischievous smiles playing over her lips when she thought Lana wasn’t looking. But then Tori had always been the more empathetic between them; she had more notches on her bedpost than an Amsterdam escort and was better at intuiting people than most detectives.
Lana, on the other hand, had no such gift. She was a woman of logic and reason, traits which made her a terribly poor judge when it came to the matters of the heart. She had never once conceived that she might find herself gorging on Tori’s breast so hungrily.
Now she was, however, her lust played over her memories, warping them into sordid scenes. Where might the night have led them if, after a marathon of romantic films, she had pressed her lips against Tori’s and allowed her hands to explore? Or if, rather than head home after a night out, they had made instead for a strip club sure to supercharge that most dangerous concoction of alcohol and arousal? Or what if on graduation night they had presented one another not with gifts of wine and chocolate, but lingerie and massage oil? Or what about…
While Lana’s mind whirled, Tori basked in her own pleasure. She had been waiting for this moment for what felt like decades. Now it was here it took all her effort not to lose focus entirely and simply gnaw on her lover’s breast like a wild animal. Fortunately, she had enough experience to know there were yet sweeter tastes to a woman than her breasts, and she could no longer resist the urge to sample Lana’s forbidden delicacies.
With a strength that caused Lana to gasp, Tori manhandled her into position, forcing her down the bed until Lana was straddling her face, her pussy wet and twinkling beneath the sheer lace.
‘You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,’ Tori purred, easing aside her lover’s underwear.
Lana’s gasp devolved into a groan: a deep, juddering noise which gave the impression of a submarine creaking under the pressure of the depths. The last of Lana’s sensibility was held inside the ailing vessel, her final doubts and hesitations locked inside a doomed corner of her mind, outside of which was an abyss of lust and pleasure, pressing in with inexorable strength. It was only a matter of time before the walls gave in completely.
The next moment Tori’s scorching tongue was running between her pussy lips and Lana let out an involuntary scream.
Before Lana had time to think what she was doing, one hand was on her ass spreading her cheek to provide Tori better access. She felt the folds of her pussy part and vaguely heard her lover growl with hunger, then she was screaming again.
With every stroke Lana’s body trembled. Tori’s tongue was broad and wet, stimulating various pleasure points all at once. But most of all, it was experienced. She seemed to know the intricacies of Lana’s sex with all the confidence of a pianist reciting their favourite piece and, though it took Lana some time to gather her senses enough to notice, there was great tact behind every movement. Where delicacy was required, Tori’s tongue feathered about, toying with Lana’s clit or the edges of her sex. Meanwhile, when she fed more deeply Tori took on a wilder style, gorging herself on Lana’s sweet nectar.
Lana had never felt so sensitive. Every inch of her flesh tingled with arousal she had no means of expressing and she was alert to everything all at once, from the heat of Tori’s breath over her exposed ass to the tickle of her lover’s hair on her calves. White hot arcs of pleasure flared through her crotch and thighs and midriff – so hot a sweat broke over her brow and her cheeks flushed bright red.
Lust and longing saturating her every thought, Lana once again found herself moving on instinct, as though her body was set on some devious autopilot intent on pushing her deeper into abyssal pleasure. She rose up, sitting back on Tori’s face and burying her friend between her plump cheeks. Her feet hooked beneath Tori’s head, pulling her in, though there was little need for it since Tori’s hands immediately found Lana’s hips, which she used to drag her friend down until it looked as if Lana was wearing a horsetail butt plug, Tori’s long hair her only visible feature as she was blissfully smothered.
Clutching her own ankle to keep her lover pinned in place, Lana rolled her hips roughly, grinding her sex over Tori’s face. Overwhelmed, she whimpered and moaned, her head lolling back as her spare hand clawed at the bedsheets.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her hips ached; her pussy burned. Even so, within minutes she found herself craving more. Her skin was electric with a desire she had no outlet for, and rocking on Tori’s face was only adding further pleasure to her system. Her orgasm teetered on the precipice of breaking, yet something she could not identify held it back. It felt like a small sun nestled in her hips, burning her up with pleasure from the inside out.
Lana needed an outlet, and she needed it now.
Just then she glanced down. Tori’s legs were spread wide and her pink pussy glistened, enticing and vulnerable. In that moment Lana knew exactly how to channel her energy.
Wrenching herself from Tori’s grasp, Lana swung around and dropped onto her back.
Her lover lay in a daze, partially due to the sudden bright light, partially due to the mental fog which had descended as she overdosed on Lana’s sweet nectar. She didn’t feel much as Lana dragged her into position. Her mind was elsewhere, drifting on currents of pleasure – drifting until Lana’s tongue ran over her pussy, that was, at which point clarity returned and she let out a cry of equal alarm and lust.
Tori’s hand flew back, finding Lana’s fingers squeezing her plump ass cheeks. She felt for her wrist and clutched it in a trembling grip, the throb of Lana’s pulse the only thing grounding her in reality. Her groans rolled around the room, punctuated by a host of wet slurping sounds rising from beneath her hips.
Ordinarily, Tori had far more self-control. She had long since stopped counting how many men and women she had made love to, and during her time under the sheets there was little she enjoyed more than clenching her thighs around a lover’s ears and having them feast on her sex. Such experiences had trained her how to maintain her composure in even the most passionate of encounters, yet now, with Lana beneath her, she squirmed and squealed as if it was her very first time.
If Tori was honest, there was little tact to Lana’s technique. Her strokes were rough and unrefined with scarcely a thought for Tori’s needs only the satisfaction of her own carnal hunger. She lapped aimlessly, devoid of rhythm, and if she had been an ordinary lover Tori would have been disappointed.
Despite her inexperience, however, the sheer vigour of Lana’s feasting drove Tori wild. This was the woman she had watched live her life all but celibate, the friend she had spent years lusting after, the companion she had confided so much in they might as well have been the same person. But perhaps the hottest thing about it all – hotter still than the apparent animal she had awoken in her friend – was the fact that Lana knew just how promiscuous Tori had been over the years. She knew how many men had used the holes she now fed on, how many women had locked legs with Tori and tribbed her into a sweaty mess, yet still she gorged herself as if she was trying to extract every memory of them and brand Tori as her own.
Deep down, Tori had often doubted she would ever find a partner who might be content with her history; she had no issues admitting to herself she was a sexual deviant, though the social taboo that surrounded her lifestyle was not lost on her. But with Lana’s tongue shamelessly playing over her asshole and the air around them swiftly thickening into a heady cocktail of perfume, perspiration and pussy vapours, she realised for the first time she hadn’t simply spent the duration of their friendship lusting after Lana – she had spent it falling in love too.
The realisation hit Tori like a freighter, dashing her mental fog for good. With her returned composure came a newfound urge to take things further. At first this had been about pleasure, a chance at releasing all the lust she had stored away for so long, but now it was more than that. She no longer wanted Lana to be just another friend with benefits: she was far too special for that. Tori wanted to prove to her friend how much their novel passion meant to her.
And she knew just how to do so.
Lana moaned with denial when she pulled away, but Tori simply smiled. ‘You’re such a needy little slut,’ she purred, fixing Lana with a mischievous stare. ‘I like that.’
‘If you like it so much, why stop me? I wasn’t finished.’ Lana made to rise, probably intent on tackling Tori to the sheets and resuming her meal, but her friend held her down with a firm hand on her chest.
‘Because if there’s one thing I love more than a needy slut, it’s a naughty one. And I think I know just how to bring out your inner minx.’ Grinning impishly Tori slipped one hand beneath Lana’s leg and eased it up, shuffling into position to straddle her friend’s hips. Hooking Lana’s ankle over her shoulder, she arced her back and lowered her sex until the hems of their pussy lips brushed up against one another.
Lana’s brows soared as she realised Tori’s intent, knitting together uncertainly. To Tori though, the expression only piqued her arousal, reminding her how innocent and naïve her friend was.
‘Tori, I’m not sure…’ Lana began, only to find a finger on her lips.
‘Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes. Hush, gorgeous, and let me show you what true passion is.’ And with that she pressed down and began rolling her hips in a sultry, sensual rhythm.
The noise Lana made was somewhere between a shriek and a whimper. Tori felt her lover’s pulse throb against her palm and beamed as waves of pleasure rolled over her pretty features. Lana’s thighs quivered, her chest heaved; her infatuation was obvious immediately.
Then again, Tori herself was hardly well-composed. Her jaw hung slack, at first opening to scream her pleasure only to find no sound would come save a strangled gasp, after which her face froze in an orgasmic mask. Her brows alone moved, wriggling with such agitation it looked as though they were trying to leap clean off.
She stared down at Lana through half-closed lids and watched her lover with delight, relishing the heat of their skin pressed together. Though the fog was gone, Tori’s mind seemed to grind to a halt, seizing up as desire overwhelmed her system. Fortunately, her experience set in and her body moved of its own volition, maintaining a relentlessly passionate pace.
They remained there, writhing and entangled, until something in Lana snapped.
With every sweep of Tori’s sex over hers she was weakening. The walls to the corner in her mind where she held her last shreds of resistance had slowly crippled. Beyond them, the immeasurable depths of her lust crushed inwards, battering the tiny, listing submarine with merciless currents of pleasure and arousal. When at last they buckled completely her doubts were snuffed out in an instant, her passion now absolute. And with that completion came the urge to take matters into her own hands.
Lana moved with the speed of a pouncing tigress. Folding her free leg beneath her and planting both hands firmly on the sheets she propelled herself up, flipping Tori onto her back in the process. Now on top, she took hold of the headboard and promptly began to grind on her lover’s throbbing pussy.
Taken by surprise, the shock snapped Tori from her stupor. Between her groans she offered Lana filthy encouragement as she basked in the satisfaction of her fantasies at last meeting fruition.
‘Oh yes, work my pussy babe, ride me like a bitch. That’s it, right there. You’re so naughty – I never knew you had such a needy cunt.’
‘So needy,’ Lana grunted breathlessly. ‘Want more. Always more. Want to… oh fuck!’
Lana’s orgasm ripped through her without warning. Her climax restrained for so long she had almost forgotten how desperate she was to finish. She had just enough time to realise her own doubts had been the lock to those restraints, then she was howling and shuddering and grinding feverishly in the hope her ecstasy might last forever.
It was the most intense orgasm of her life.
It felt like something had exploded inside her. She felt briefly hollow as all her withheld arousal crushed into one single point, then it erupted outwards with such force that flashing spots peppered across her vision. At first the pleasure was too great to register, like the initial blinding light of an explosion that blots out the world. Then, as it ebbed enough for her senses to comprehend, she was reduced to a juddering, gyrating mess. Clutching tight to the headboard save she crumple over her lover, she thought for a moment that she might pass out; she felt faint and empty, as if her climax had eviscerated her. She was a shell.
Yet just as Lana teetered on the edge of consciousness Tori’s hand closed over her breast. Tori’s own bonds had broken too and she came hard, her hands roving over Lana’s perfect body as she did so.
All at once, as though catalysed by Tori’s touch, fresh desire swamped the void left behind by her explosive orgasm. Her exhaustion faded, her strength returned, and a hunger even greater than before overtook her. And from that point, neither woman was lucid enough to do anything but fuck.
Together, Tori and Lana devolved into a bundle of lust and flailing limbs. Possessed by seedy, carnal greed they took their pleasure from one another, using their lover’s body as a tool for their own satisfaction.
Time and again, Lana smothered Tori beneath her plump thighs. Her pussy saturated, she smeared her nectar over Tori’s face even as her lover fingered herself with one hand and pulled Lana down harder with the other. She marvelled at Tori’s ability to feast endlessly without pause for breath, though she soon came to realise her friend considered air secondary to pussy juice, a truth Tori only demonstrated further once she threw Lana down to her front and went down on her for the better part of half an hour without respite.
Yet more arousing, Tori even treated her to a passionate rimming. It was brief – Lana sensed her lover was going easy on her for their first time – but ludicrously stimulating, and she could hardly wait for the night Tori deemed her ready for a full-length ass-eating session.
Between frequent bouts of scissoring and fingering, Lana made sure Tori’s pussy did not go wanting for her hot lips. It did not take long until she understood Tori’s addiction to licking pussy. Her face soon glistened with her lover’s juices like sordid makeup, an appearance which was only strengthened once Lana succeeded in making Tori squirt, speckling little twinkling droplets over her cheeks like diamond studs.
The sun was beginning to dip by the time their passion slowed.
Tori lay beneath her friend, Lana’s hot tits pressed up against her own. It was like she had her own living blanket, one who was an impressively good kisser at that.
‘So, I guess we’ll never be friends again,’ Tori said as Lana eased up. Her hair draped curtain-like, shrouding one side of their view in darkness while sunlight illuminated them from the other. ‘Anyone who does that with their ‘friend’ needs to look up the definition of denial.’
Lana shrugged. ‘Were we ever really friends? I mean we’ve basically been a couple for years in everything but name. All this means is that instead of bingeing romcoms at night we can binge porn if we want instead.’
Tori’s stomach fluttered at the suggestion. ‘Now that sounds like my kind of night.’
They kissed again, slow and soft. When they parted, Lana leaned down to whisper in Tori’s ear. ‘I want you to fuck me with a strap-on tonight. I want you to make me your bitch.’
It was all Tori could do to stifle a moan. Just that morning it would have seemed unthinkable that Lana might make such a request. Now, however, the chrysalis of her former bookish self had been shed and along with it all the shame or self-doubt that might have persuaded her to bite her tongue. She was a completely new woman, and Tori loved it.
‘Only if you promise to do the same to me in the morning.’ A naughty smirk on her lips, Lana held out her pinkie. Hooking it with her own, Tori grinned, already anticipating how hot it would be to have her new girlfriend impaled on the end of her thick, plastic cock. As her thoughts tumbled into depravity, she pulled Lana in for another kiss while her hand descended to her lover’s vulnerable holes…
Meanwhile, in the grounds…
Thanks for reading!
The models in this scene are Tori Black and Lana Rhoades.
It might come as a surprise that it is Black’s work I planned to showcase in this piece, not Rhoades’. Black, like Stoya, is one of those models who has a habit of producing content that is uniformly stellar but sometimes difficult to include in captions. A lot of her scenes, for example, are of an amateur style filming nature – by which I mean though they’re professionally produced, they’re filmed POV or handheld and therefore don’t have any accompanying image galleries. This sometimes makes it tricky to find high quality content of hers to write stories or captions about. That said, some of Black’s scenes rank among my all time favourites and when she is on form there are few models capable of holding a candle to her raw natural allure. Overall she’s just amazing, and I highly recommend you check out her work if you haven’t already.
Potentially even more surprising is the fact that I’d never actually watched a single scene of Rhoades’ until writing this. Even now I still haven’t explored much of her portfolio, but anyone who can secure the title of number one PornHub model for as long as she has deserves your attention. It stands to reason given her popularity that anyone whose reading this had already heard of her, but just in case you haven’t, she’s certainly deserving of a place on your favourite models list and since she’s just as happy fucking girls as she is fucking guys, there’ll be something for everyone in her work.
Come back on Wednesday for chapter eight – it’s one of my favourites of the whole series and not to be missed!
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Image galleries: https://www.pornpics.com/galleries/older-and-younger-caucasian-females-toy-buttholes-during-lesbian-sex/
Additional image(s): https://pixabay.com/photos/sandals-wood-shoes-woman-colors-3710178/