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We were giggling and extra happy, still glowing from brunch and the drinks along with it and had many flirty touches under the table. As soon as we got home, she pushed me back—mouth on mine, hands all over—and didn’t let up. She took control like she’d been waiting all morning for it. I was her soft, giggling little bottom, dripping and ready to be used. Her kisses turned rough, her hands demanding. She fucked me slow and deep at first, then harder, gripping my thighs, whispering filth into my ear. I moaned, squirmed, gave in completely. Two trans girls, post-brunch, one fucking the other senseless. Everything smells like lube and bubbles.