Addicted2Girls
Katie St. Ives, Vanessa Cage Pic(s)
The air in the room was thick with the scent of sugar and whispered secrets, a hazy warmth clinging to the two figures nestled deep within a fortress of pillows and blankets. A single lamp cast long, dancing shadows that caressed the curve of a shoulder, the delicate line of an ankle, as one girl leaned closer to the other, her breath a soft, warm tide agat a flushed cheek. The whisper that escaped her lips was not meant for the sleeping world outside, but for the private universe contained within these four walls, a universe where fingertips could trace the path of a stray lock of hair with an electric, deliberate slowness. The sensation was a spark traveling down a nerve, a silent question asked not with words but with the lingering pressure of skin agat skin, a touch that made the very air seem to hum with potential. The second girl’s eyelids fluttered, a silent surrender as she turned her face, her gaze dropping to the parted lips so close to her own, seeing not just a friend but a landscape of new and thrilling possibility. The space between them diminished not with a sudden lunge, but with a gravitational pull, an inevitable leaning in that felt as natural as drawing breath. When their mouths finally met, it was not a collision but a discovery, a soft, exploring pressure that tasted of stolen strawberry lip gloss and the intoxicating freedom of the late hour. A quiet, shuddering sigh melted into the kiss, a sound of release that seemed to loosen the tight coil of anticipation that had held them both captive. In that suspended moment, the only reality was the shared warmth, the tentative slide of a tongue, and the profound understanding that this was a threshold being crossed, forever changing the quiet geography of their friendship.
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