Monica Anne’s heart hammered against her chest as she stood in the crowded living room of the Alpha Omega Sorority house. Soft blue fairy lights glowed along the walls, music pulsed low and sensual, and every sister in sight was wearing some version of a baby blue bikini—lace, string, micro, the whole spectrum of temptation for Baby Blue Bikini Night. But Monica Anne had chosen the riskiest one of all – the baby blue lace triangle top and matching low-rise bottoms with side ties she was wearing that night were not hers. They belonged to Dana. The same Dana whose laughter she had memorized, whose dark eyes she watched across study tables, whose scent of coconut lotion and clean skin haunted her. Monica Anne had slipped into Dana’s room earlier, heart in her throat, and taken the very sexy bikini from Dana’s top drawer – the drawer where everyone knew she kept her bikinis. Now, the bikini had made its way from Monica Anne’s sneaky hands and on to her sexy body, delicate lace cups barely containing Monica Anne’s medium-sized, perky breasts; the thin straps digging faintly into her shoulders; the bottoms sitting low on her toned hips, the side ties brushing the side of her thighs as she walked. Monica Anne’s long, wavy black hair spilled over her shoulders. Bold red lipstick. Large silver hoops. Medium-brown skin glowing under the warm lights. Every nerve in her body was electric with nerves. Monica Anne kept nervously adjusting the ties, thighs pressing together, the gusset of that little bikini she was wearing already soaked just from wearing the bikini of the girl she was obsessed with these past few months. Dana noticed within minutes. Dana moved through the room like she owned the night—same medium-brown complexion, cascading brunette waves, a similar baby blue lace bikini that hugged her own toned, slender body, perky breasts lifting with every breath, nipples rock hard, low-rise bottoms tied snug on her hips. Dana stopped cold in her tracks when her gaze landed on Monica Anne and she confirmed for sure that Monica Anne was undoubtedly wearing the bikini she noticed was missing from her drawer just an hour earlier when she went to put it on for tonight’s festivities. Dana’s eyes traced the lace cups, the exact pattern of the side ties, the way the fabric sat on Monica Anne’s flat stomach and curves. Recognition flared, then something hotter. Interest. Curiosity. No anger at all. Dana finished crossing the room, voice low and warm near Monica Anne’s ear so only she could hear. “Girl, that’s my bikini.” A soft smile curved her red lips. “I know the lace. I know the way those ties sit. Why are you wearing my bikini, Monica Anne?” Monica Anne’s pulse jumped. She met Dana’s dark, expressive eyes, cheeks flushing, nipples already tightening hard against the thin lace. She didn’t look away. Instead, she stepped closer, voice husky, almost a whisper that brushed Dana’s skin. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you in it. Because every time I picture you, I picture this exact bikini stretched over your body…in my bed…and I wanted it on my body while I told you the truth about how I feel about you.” Monica Anne let her fingers trail lightly along the side tie of the stolen bikini bottoms, then up to the lace edge of the top, deliberately drawing Dana’s gaze. “I stole it because I’m in love with you, Dana. I’ve been aching for you. I want to make love to you while I’m still wearing this sexy little bikini…your sexy little bikini. I want you to feel how wet I already am just from having your lace against my skin.” Dana’s breath caught. Her own gusset was now starting to dampen at Monica Anne’s words. Dana looked Monica Anne up and down once more, slow and openly hungry, then took her hand. “Upstairs,” Dana said seductively. “My room. Now.” The two girls slipped away from the party, up the stairs, down the hallway. They darted quickly into Dana’s room, and Dana locked the door behind them. The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp. The music from downstairs was a distant throb. Dana turned, eyes dark with heat, and closed the small distance between them. She kissed Monica Anne—deep, open-mouthed, tongues sliding. Monica Anne moaned into it, hands finding Dana’s waist, feeling the soft give of her skin above the low-rise bottoms. Their lace-covered breasts pressed together; hard nipples dragged against lace and against each other. Monica Anne’s pussy clenched, already slick, the thin fabric of Dana’s stolen bottoms growing damp between her thighs, nestling into her wet folds. Dana backed Monica Anne toward the bed. They sank onto the mattress. Dana’s hands roamed—cupping Monica Anne’s breasts through the triangle top, thumbs circling the stiff peaks until Monica Anne arched and whimpered. One of Dana’s hands then went right between Monica Anne’s legs, finding exactly what she was expecting. “You’re soaked already,” Dana whispered, her fingers now tracing the side ties, then dipping beneath the lace crotch to stroke the slick folds. “Fuck, Monica Anne…you really did this for me?” Monica Anne spread her thighs wider, hips lifting. “Only for you, Miss Dada. Please—taste me while I’m still in your bikini.” Dana kissed down Monica Anne’s body, lingering on the lace cups, sucking one hard nipple through the fabric until the lace was wet and translucent, then the other. She then settled between Monica Anne’s legs, pushed the lace bottoms aside just enough, and dragged her tongue slowly up the dripping slit. Monica Anne cried out, both hands taking a fistful of Dana’s beautiful long hair. Dana licked deeper—flat tongue dragging over the swollen clit, then pushing inside, fucking Monica Anne with slow, deliberate strokes while her nose brushed the lace. The taste of Monica Anne’s arousal mixed with the faint scent of the shared bikini. Dana moaned against her, the vibration making Monica Anne’s hips buck. “God—Dana—your mouth,” Monica Anne whimpered. Dana sucked her clit, two fingers sliding into the tight, wet heat, curling, working her open while she kept licking. Monica Anne came hard, thighs shaking around Dana’s head, pussy pulsing, soaking the lace and Dana’s chin. They switched without words. Monica Anne rolled Dana onto her back, straddled her thighs for a moment just to grind their wet, lace-covered cunts together—hard nipples brushing, side ties tangling, the friction of baby blue lace and slick skin making them both gasp. Then she slid down, pulled Dana’s bottoms aside the same way, and buried her face between those toned thighs. Dana’s folds were swollen and glistening. Monica Anne licked her open with long, greedy strokes, tongue circling the clit, then plunging deep. She fucked Dana with her mouth the way she had fantasized—slow, then faster, sucking hard on the sensitive peak while two fingers pumped in and out of the dripping heat. Dana’s hands tangled in Monica Anne’s long dark hair, guiding, urging. “Yes—right there—don’t stop—your tongue feels so fucking good,” Dana breathed heavily. Monica Anne added a third finger, curling, and sealed her lips around Dana’s clit, humming. Dana came with a broken moan, hips lifting off the bed, pussy clenching hard around Monica Anne’s fingers, wetness spilling over her tongue and chin and onto the lace. They didn’t stop. Still in the matching baby blue lace bikinis, they tangled together again—scissoring so their wet pussies rubbed directly, lace shoved aside, clit against clit, grinding in a slow, filthy rhythm. Hard nipples scraped lace and skin. Hands cupped and squeezed breasts. Mouths found each other’s again, sharing the taste of their own arousal. Monica Anne whispered against Dana’s lips between kisses, “I’ve wanted this for so long…your body…your mouth…your bikini on my skin while you fuck me.” Dana answered by sliding two fingers back into Monica Anne’s still-sensitive cunt and working her clit with her thumb while their hips rolled together. Monica Anne did the same, fingers plunging into Dana’s wetness. They fucked each other like that—lace still on, bodies slick with sweat and come, nipples diamond-hard, pussies dripping—until they both came again, trembling, crying out each other’s names. Afterward, they stayed tangled, breathing hard, the baby blue lace bikinis still clinging to their bodies, damp and rumpled. Dana’s fingers traced the side ties on Monica Anne’s hips. “Next time,” Dana murmured, voice rough with satisfaction, “you don’t have to steal it. Just ask and I’ll put it on you and then make you come again and again.” Monica Anne smiled then nestled into Dana’s neck, the spot she had longed to be for so long…
No comments:
Post a Comment