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Daphne began to pant. "Turn around!" she commanded, "Turn around, Davenport, let me lick you, too!" Iris eagerly repositioned herself, facing the foot of the bed. She planted her knees on either side of Daphne's head so that her own slit, dripping with intimate fluids, was directly over the other girl's face. Gingerly, she lowered herself until she felt the tip of Daphne's tongue contact her clitoris with a celestial jolt, making her flow like an estuary at flood tide. The girls lapped hungrily at one another with their little pink tongues, each girl's ecstasy escalating in discrete, excruciating stages until they were both riding that divine, razor-sharp edge known only to women, riding it like the crest of a gigantic warm wave, riding and riding and riding that crest until the wave finally broke — at the same moment for both of them — broke into a thousand brilliant white shards of molten pleasure that surged through their bodies, even to the tips of their fingers and toes. With their tongues, each felt the other's rhythmical pulsing, each impulsively swallowed as much of the other's musky fluids as she could suck in, and each felt her own female organs, deep within her woman belly, ripple and stir. "Unhh, Unnh, Unhh, Unhh!" they both groaned as they came simultaneously, transported by the power of their orgasms. When her rippling finally stopped, Iris collapsed in a limp heap on top of Daphne, almost smothering her, and with great effort, languidly turned herself around on the bed, so that the two girls could embrace one another tightly, whilst leaving one hand free to cup the other's mound. Wound tightly in this embrace, the girls lay still for the better part of an hour, not speaking, each lost in her own thoughts about the events of the morning.
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