Moving In, Making Love

Moving day sucks, but Little Puck and Sophia finally muscle that last box upstairs. They crash on the worn couch, muscles throbbing, chests heaving. Little Puck winces and rubs the knot in her shoulder. Sophia smirks, flexes her fingers and says she’ll work it out. Little Puck strips her tank off, bare back gleaming with sweat. Sophia’s palms slide over skin, pressing deep, thumbs circling the tight spot until Little Puck moans. The pressure turns slick, lazy. Fingers trail lower, graze bare sides, dip under her waistband. Pulses spike. Little Puck rocks her hips back, ass brushing Sophia’s crotch, and they both know what’s next. They shove clothes aside right there on that couch. Legs tangle, bodies slap. Sophia drives two fingers in; Little Puck pushes back, taking every inch. Sweat slick, breath ragged, they fuck hard enough to rattle the framed posters still leaned against the wall. Every thrust says this place is theirs now.