"Put your hands on your knees," Natasha whispers. Sawyer obeys instantly. Natasha presses down even more firmly onto her shoulders. Sawyer feels the pressure on her clavicle. Natasha manipulates Sawyer to the floor. She goes down neatly, hands still on her knees. She's squashed between the box-spring and Natasha's muscular thighs. Natasha widens her stance and lifts her dress, letting it fall over Sawyer's head.
Sawyer is taller, but Natasha's height is all in her legs, so Sawyer has to lean up to put her mouth where Natasha wants it. She'd rather lay her head on Natasha's thighs. They are so strong and firm, and the room is still spinning. She could put her head on them and shut her eyes for just a second. But then Natasha's fingers press into her hair and Sawyer moans louder than she means to. The sound of her own arousal arouses her further, and she surges up into Natasha's pussy. Natasha is sweaty from dancing, and rough from not shaving for a couple of weeks. Her legs are spread but not far enough for Sawyer to fit her whole face between them, so she makes do with nuzzling in between Natasha's labia, before working her tongue in. Natasha spreads her legs further, using her thighs to brace herself. Sawyer sticks her tongue out further so Natasha can rub against it.
When she closes her eyes she sways a bit, but she keeps her hands firmly on her knees. Natasha's holding her up with her fist gripped in her hair. Sawyer's thighs are hurting from leaning up into Natasha. Every time her muscles slacken and she sinks back down onto her thighs, Natasha pulls Sawyer upwards by the hair again. She loses track of time. Her ears buzz, her muscles burn, her scalp throbs, Natasha's wetness slips down the back of her throat and over her chin.
Natasha pats the top of her head, "Get on the bed for me, Sawyer. Hands and knees." Sawyer fumbles her way onto the mattress. It's much softer than her own, and the way it lurches underneath her makes her feel a bit sick.
Natasha's hands on her hips steady her. They push up Sawyer's dress and pull her underwear to the side. Sawyer's wearing a matching, deep magenta set that she knows look so right. She can't stop making little shuddery moans as Natasha runs her thumb up and down Sawyer's pussy. It must look fat and oozing from this angle, and she wiggles back on Natasha's hand. Two fingers slip inside her easily, and she sinks forward to rest her head on the sheets and close her eyes.
"No," Natasha says. Sawyer whines. "Hands and knees, I said."
Sawyer pushes herself up properly again. Her arms shake. Natasha keeps pumping her fingers in and out, and Sawyer keeps whimpering out of her nose. Natasha moves to three fingers and starts making a wedge shape, twisting them into Sawyer. Sawyer moans and presses herself back on Natasha. At this angle she's tight and she doesn't know if Natasha will be able to get that deep inside her, but she can't resist wriggling back on her knuckles.
Natasha withdraws her hand. She's been bending over a bit awkwardly, and Sawyer hears her spine pop as she straightens.
"Go and get my strap-on from that drawer," Natasha points at the cheap closet at the other side of the room.
Sawyer flips herself over and scoots to the end of the bed, planting her feet on the floor. Natasha shakes her head. She lightly clasps the back of Sawyer's neck and draws her towards the floor until Sawyer is kneeling. Sawyer feels dizzy, and it isn't just the alcohol. The drink takes the edge off the embarrassment, only the pleasurable, squirmy sort remains.
Natasha reaches one hand over her shoulder and one hand up her back, grasping them.
"It's the laughing cow!" Sawyer feels proud of herself for remembering.
"You mean the cow face pose. Why do you even know about Laughing Cow? Wisconsin is literally the only place in our shithole country that makes decent cheese."
Sawyer begins crawling across the floor, Natasha's worn carpet burning her knees. She's so swollen that even the movement of her sticky thighs rubs her clit. She's painfully aware of Natasha's eyes on her pussy as her back undulates in a full body shiver that she fails to suppress. She crawls over a pile of Natasha's dirty laundry. Ordinarily, she wouldn't even touch a partner's dirty socks and a hot ball of humiliation forms in her stomach as she puts the palms of her hands over Natasha's discarded underwear. She can see one of the pairs of panties has discharge on the gusset. Somehow, the burning humiliation travels down her stomach and makes her pussy pulse even more strongly. When she gets to Natasha's simple harness her drunk fingers get caught in all the straps and she spends a few seconds tugging them, working out the best way to carry it.
"Don't you dare drag it on the floor. Use your mouth," Natasha says from the side of the bed. She's still stretching out her shoulders, swapping her arms over between stretches.
Sawyer whimpers, but dutifully picks up the nylon webbing in her teeth. Her cheeks are burning up, and the heavy weight of the silicone hurts her jaw after only a few seconds.
She drops it by Natasha's feet. "Good girl," Natasha says. She picks up one of Sawyer's curls and twines it around her hand. Sawyer kisses Natasha's dry knees. The harness is definitely what Sawyer would call ugly, and Natasha tugs it on with little ceremony or sensuality.
"Get back on the bed."
