Space station of the sluts

Fingertips trailed down one calf and then vanished from Megan’s skin. A moment later, she heard a breathy moan, and wet lips pressed against her slippery folds. Zanthia rocked forward on her knees and parted Megan with a deft flick, her tongue sliding between the dripping labia.

Down near the cabin floor, wet flesh squelched almost daintily. Megan felt Zanth quiver beneath her; heard a gentle schlick-schlick-schlick sound as the redhead’s body began to rock rhythmically up and down. She moaned distracted irritation at her partner.

“Play with me, Zanth, not yourself…”

Zanthia’s tongue flicked up and down in response, darting up the length of Megan’s wet slit and over her clit, a lightning back-and-forth that made the station chief gasp and clutch at her friend’s hair. A wave of pleasure swept over her, fading back into foggy-headed lust as the tongue dove down again, wriggling in between heavy folds to lap her slick inner walls. It curled and uncurled in a lazy rhythm, exploring the first few inches of Megan’s passage. Zanthia’s nose rubbed teasingly at her clit each time the redhead rocked forward.