"You, in green pajamas, hair all mussed, all loose and sleepy and warm..." Zondra's raspy alto murmured against her skin.
Roused from deep sleep, Laurel swayed barefoot on the bedroom carpet. Zondra's breasts pressed against her back like little pillows, and her hands slipped over Laurelís green silk pajamas. Laurel sucked in a breath as the hard, distinct shapes of Zondra's silver rings dug deeply into her soft belly.
Zondra rubbed against Laurel's back and said, "You're warm," then, "Down you go." Confused, Laurel didn't resist as her much smaller girlfriend pushed her face down onto the bed.
Now she was awake. "You could've come back earlier," Laurel grumped, pulling her face out of a flannel-covered pillow. She stared with narrowed eyes as Zondra stripped out of her post midterm club clothes, the silver lycra pungent with sweat and cigarette smoke. With a flourish, Zondra whipped out her hair sticks; curls deluged down her bare back. Flinging her arms wide, she waited for applause.
"I'm sleepy," Laurel said. "And I have rounds in the morning." But she licked her lips.
Zondra knelt beside her on the bed, her muscular thighs like a perfect ski slope. Laurel began to sit up, deciding she needed to sink her teeth into that luscious flesh, but her partner leaned over and pressed her facedown again.
"Sleepy, yeah, so I can have my wicked way with you," Zondra said. The texture of her voice would have sounded wicked if she'd been reading out a grocery list. The palm of her hand burned through the silk that covered Laurel's back. "Just lie there. Those pajamas are like...like green, fuckable skin. So soft, so slick." She bent low and Laurel felt lips press to the back of her neck, then a slick swipe of tongue that left a cold chill in its wake. Laurel pressed into the mattress, crushing it against her breasts and belly and mons and thighs. Zondra trapped her hips between her knees, halting her movement, and said, "Those pajamas are like another person who's nothing but sex. No brain, just skin."
"That wouldn't work, biologically--"
"Just pretend, okay?" Zondra's nipples indented her back for a moment, hard as small fingertips; heat radiated from her body, amplified by the silk barrier. Laurel sighed deeply.
Zondra smoothed away the imprint of nipples, silk rustling under her touch. She rasped, close to Laurel's ear, "Be my toy. I want to fuck you in silk. I want to fuck silk pajamas."
Laurel's clit pressed out through its forest of wiry hair, throbbing wetly against its silk boundary. Her pulse throbbed in her pussy. A whimper escaped her.
Zondra squirmed and aligned along Laurel's back and legs. Their cheeks brushed, then their mouths awkwardly came together. For long moments they consumed each other, tongues flicking, teeth nipping, then rolling until Laurel lay flat on her back, Zondra twisting slowly atop her, hair cascading about her face, kindling every centimeter of her skin. Laurel began to pant.
Zondra's mound brushed hers through the silk, an electric jolt. Laurel bucked up into her touch, hissing when she withdrew and sat up.
"Fuck me," she demanded, stroking her finger in and out Zondra's softly sucking pussy.
For a moment, Zondra froze, then she pulled away. "Don't move," she said, resolutely.
"This sucks, it's too slow," Laurel said. "I want something inside me."
"No," Zondra said. She took her time settling astride Laurel's hips; she bent forward and let her hair, this week burgundy, tease Laurel's breasts through the silk, igniting prickles of static. Laurel trembled, trying to press up into Zondra's crotch. Her eyes closed involuntarily.
Zondra said, "Look at me--look at me--"
Her eyes opened. They burned. Her throat tightened around her wild words: "Will you fucking do it?"
A savage smile lit Zondra's face. She pressed down hard into Laurel's pussy, crushing her open, their juice soaking the taut silk. She squeezed Laurel's breasts, hard, a perfect pressure that shot right to her pussy.
Laurel ground her hips. Zondra's knees tightened; grabbing one thigh, Laurel held her still, twisting the heel of her hand into Zondra's pubic mound, pulling a sobbing breath from her chest. "Don't," Zondra said. "That's too much."
"Not nearly enough."
"I'm too close," Zondra gasped. Her hands feverishly smoothed the silk over Laurel's breasts, upper arms, ribs--
Laurel sank her teeth into her bottom lip and gripped Zondra's sweaty hips even more tightly. "Kiss me, touch me," she chanted.
Zondra laughed unsteadily. "What about Ms. Green Silk Pajamas? She's an underrepresented minority here."
"You're fucking crazy, Zondra!"
"No, just brilliant." She sat back a little, away from Laurel's pussy, but her small, firm ass on Laurel's pillowy thighs was almost as bad. She lowered her head to Laurel's left breast and began to suck, hard. Not even the nipple at first, just the plump underside. Wet silk stretched and rasped like a rugburn. Laurel went limp except for the agonizing tension in her clit, her lips, up through the very center of her body to her womb.
"Umm, silk tastes like you."
Laurel whimpered. She never wanted this to stop. Zondra sucked harder, directly on her nipple now, long pulls. A tear of desperation trickled down Laurel's cheek. Zondra didn't stop. She kneaded the other breast before pinching its nipple, pulling, twisting, as if tugging on a rope looping from Laurel's womb to her clit, stretching--
Laurel came screaming, sobbing, finally whimpering as her body shuddered to a halt.
Zondra ground herself to completion against Laurel's leg. Laurel lacked the strength to do more than stroke her back weakly while she finished. Her green pajamas were probably ruined. Too bad.
"Holy fuck," she whispered.
"Yeah, baby," Zondra husked back.
The phone rang. Neither of them moved. It rang once more and stopped.
"I'm not on call," Laurel said, drunkenly. "Fuck 'em."
"Tomorrow," Zondra murmured. "That'll be tomorrow."
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