And she definitely didn’t want to.
She unbuttoned her jeans, shucked them off so fast, she nearly tripped getting them off her feet.
Ramona laughed sweetly. “Easy, tiger.”
“Rawr,” Dylan said, and Ramona laughed even more. But soon the laughing stopped when Dylan put one knee on the bed. Her underwear wasn’t exactly her sexiest—a pair of white hipsters with tiny rainbow tacos all over them, a random purchase from the internet because she thought they were queer and funny. She had no idea this was how her day would end—quite the opposite, actually. Still, Ramona’s mouth dropped open a bit, her eyes finding the space between Dylan’s legs, then lifting to her tits again.
“You’re gorgeous,” Ramona said.
Dylan smiled, lifted her other leg to the bed so she was on her knees, then trailed a hand up her thigh. She needed to touch herselflike this too, needed something while she watched Ramona continue to feel herself up, hands gliding over her skin.
Dylan scooted closer, staying on her knees, then sitting back on her heels. She heard Ramona’s breath catch as she opened her legs as wide as they’d go.
“You like that,” Dylan said. Not a question. Ramona just swallowed, nodded, her eyes flitting from Dylan’s chest to her cunt, back and forth. “Spread your legs for me.”
Ramona obeyed, her mouth slightly open, hands still on her tits. Her knees parted, and Dylan groaned at the sight before her—Ramona’s pussy, still covered by her underwear, a wet spot at the center.
“Fuck,” Dylan said. “I need you to touch your cunt. Like, immediately.”
“Thank god,” Ramona said, then slid one hand down her soft stomach, over her mound and underwear.
“Exactly like you want it, baby girl,” Dylan said, transfixed by where that hand was going next.
“God,” Ramona said, her back arching a little. “I really like that.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dylan said. She put one hand on Ramona’s knee, making her gasp.
“Yeah,” Ramona said, her voice breathy, raspy. “Please.”
“Show me, Ramona,” she said. “Show me how you like to be fucked.”
Ramona moaned as her fingers dipped lower, spread over her pussy, fingers rubbing and curling. Dylan watched, her pulse like a hummingbird’s wings, her own cunt throbbing. Ramona’s fingers moved over that wet spot, and Dylan wanted to press her nose there, her tongue, make it wetter.
“God,” she said. “You look so good.”
Ramona’s breath quickened as she rubbed harder. “I need…”
“Tell me,” Dylan said. “What do you need, baby?”
“More,” she said, her voice desperate now.
Dylan reached over Ramona, swiped her thumbs over the skin above her underwear. Ramona groaned, and Dylan hooked her fingers into Ramona’s waistband, then tugged her underwear down her legs. Ramona had to stop touching herself for a second to get them off, but holy shit was it worth it.
Dylan tossed the undies into the dark, then spread Ramona’s legs again, pushing her knees wide.
“Fuck,” she said. Ramona’s cunt was gorgeous. Hair trimmed, but still present, a dark scattering of curls over a soaked pussy. She took Ramona’s hand, placed it on those wet lips again. “Keep going.”
“I need you,” Ramona rasped, her fingers starting to move. “Please, Dylan, touch yourself for me too.”
Dylan angled to take off her own underwear—who was she to deny Ramona anything she wanted—then situated back on her heels, legs spread as wide as they’d go.
“Oh my god,” Ramona said, rubbing harder. “Please.”
Dylan set one hand back on Ramona’s knee, then slid her fingers into her own folds.
“God, I’m wet,” she said.
“Good,” Ramona said, her fingers dipping inside herself. “Please, show me, Dylan.”
