Sawyer sits up again. She urges Natasha to lie on her front. Natasha feels like a child being woken up to go to the airport, her limbs are soft and pliant in Sawyer's grip.
Sawyer strokes her fingers over Natasha's clavicles before moving down to Natasha's chest. Sawyer ignores her the soft swell of Natasha's breasts, but presses down firmly underneath them to reach Natasha's pectorals, moving her fingertips in tight circles. Her eyes are focused on Natasha's body, nostrils flaring as she gazes down at her. Before she moves down she grazes Natasha's nipples with her teeth.
Sawyer rubs her knuckles over Natasha's abs, before rubbing the side of her cheek against the firm muscle there. She presses the heels of her hands on the outside of Natasha's thigh and kisses both of her knees.
Natasha raises herself on her elbows just in time to see Sawyer part her legs. Natasha didn't fully register that she was this aroused, but as Sawyer pulls her thighs apart she sees a silvery web of her wetness spread between her thighs before it breaks and snaps back.
Sawyer is staring, breathing with her mouth open.
"Oh, Natasha," Sawyer breathes, "You're a mess."
Sawyer uses both hands to spread Natasha's labia open. Her clit is red and swollen, pushing out from her hood.
Sawyer leans forward and cups her tongue. She draws it up the length of Natasha's pussy, collecting her wetness in the curve. She leans back enough for Natasha to see her swallow.
"I'm just clearing some space," Sawyer hisses before driving her face back in between Natasha's thighs. She laughs a little into Natasha's pussy, moving her face back and forth, wetting it. She's showing off, Natasha loves it.
Sawyer slips two fingers into Natasha. She's sopping, and there's no friction at all. Sawyer twists them in and out while lapping at Natasha's clit, and Natasha can't help making little breathy noises that are unlike anything she usually makes.
Sawyer pulls back, "Natasha, can I use a strap-on? My wrist is tired."
Sawyer's voice sounds like it's coming from very far away. She focuses, and when she realizes what Sawyer has said she can't help laughing.
"Your wrists are tired? Spare a thought for mine yesterday!"
Sawyer huffs, but thankfully doesn't stop the gentle thrusting inside Natasha.
"Yes, of course," Natasha says, "There's one in my - "
"No, I've got my own. If you put me in a gross, manly one, I'll cry."
"Great, can we use my toy though? Go in my bag. It's the purple one that I want." Natasha feels like she couldn't possibly move anything below her neck.
Sawyer comes back muttering about Natasha bringing three dildos over to her house for one night. She's holding Natasha's narrow, smooth dildo in one hand and a pink harness in the other. It has fucking bows on the hips. Sawyer fastens Natasha's toy into the ring, all the while telling Natasha an anecdote about being made to dress as Andy from Toy Story for Halloween, and how she threw such a tantrum she wasn't even allowed out to trick or treat. Natasha isn't fully listening, but synchronizing her breaths with the pulsing in her pussy.
At last, Sawyer is on top of her, kissing her. Her heavy breasts are on Natasha's chest. Sawyer maneuvers herself and suddenly Natasha is full of the cool, firm silicone. Natasha gasps, but only lightly flexes her fingers because she's too lethargic to do anything more.
Natasha remembers a field trip to the coast where they watched a grizzled East Coast fisherman catch and trance some lobsters. He stood them on their heads, wound their tails over their body and they were soft and silent even as they entered the steaming pot. That's how she feels, perfectly meek under Sawyer's long, steady thrusts. This never happens, she thinks to herself. She likes to be in charge, in control. And yet, she never wants it to stop.
With her hands free, Sawyer dots a constellation of touches over Natasha's body. Natasha isn't sure if she's touching the bits she missed with her massage, or whether she is just plucking at the bits that take her fancy first.
Sawyer keeps going, and going. Natasha lies underneath her and doesn't really notice the copper pot of boiling water she's heading for. Soon, she's kicking frog-leg, breast stroke style on the sheets, the material bunching around her toes.
She gets tenser, draws her legs around Sawyer's body. When her orgasm finally hits she is silent, her body bowing upwards. The only sounds she makes are the thumps of her heels against the back of Sawyer's legs. She clenches against the unyielding silicone in her body and her spine twists with it.
Sawyer laughs at her, then shuffles Natasha over so she is lying in the warm, damp patch Natasha just made. She lifts her hips and shimmies out of her harness, kicking it out of the bed.
Natasha leans on her elbow and trails her hand down Sawyer's stomach. Sawyer catches it, grabs it, pulls it down to her pussy, and then presses her hand firmly over Natasha's to cup her hand tightly against Sawyer. Natasha tries to pull her hand back so she
