bassista | this is an excuse for lesbian sex

this is an excuse for lesbian sex

Every girl wanna look like me
Every girl wanna look
Hot girl on top of the speaker
Hot girl in a wet, wet t-shirt
Got a crush, I know you see her
One look and you wanna be her
'Cause you can't miss her
Play it on the systеm
Miss bitch, I'm on a mission
♫

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Vic is having the time of her life. They'd just won San Marino, they're heading to fucking Eurovision, and all of that back busting, street busking, fighting for scraps is done. They have a permanent residence and don't have to worry about rent month-to-month, they have enough space at Dante's for a practice studio, they're currently in a completely different country rocking people's faces off. Dante is thrilled but studious, Tommaso is upstairs already throwing up, ever the lightweight, and Nicky is currently trying very hard to get into the pants of that American that no one particularly wants around.

That's a lie. People do want him around, and at least one person wants him sexually. Vic doesn't want Tim around much solely because Sophia seems to be completely and utterly enraptured with the guy, and Vic?

Vic is pining, yet again, over a straight girl. She knows Sophia has to b, but that long blonde hair, adorable button nose, vocal talent that blows the roof off of anything she's ever seen makes her weak in the knees. Girl groups aren't really her thing--she likes loud music and hard bass, be that the clubs of Milan or a dingy rock show in a basement in Rome, but Sophia?

Jesus Christ, that girl can sing. She's cute and innocent and Vic stares at her their first party together way more than Nicky's stared at Tim the entire press circuit. But Sophia's clearly got a thing for the American so, whatever. C'est la Vie. She can pine and fuck another pretty woman and think of those beautiful features and legs wrapped around shoulders.

Something magical happens, though. Nicky confesses Tim and him are fucking in pleasantly buzzed Italian at some point in the party. That means Tim isn't interested in Sophia.

That means, selfishly, that she can have a little fun, because that girl and her princess vibes really do it for Victoria. Probably, she should feel bad about manipulating the poor girl who's clearly straight. Probably. She doesn't, though.

Why would she feel bad about getting what she wants?

Nicky has staked a claim on Tim, and the two exchange a look before the body shots are over: Nicky knows what she wants and Victoria knows what he wants, so Victoria immediately springs into action.

"You two," she says, pulling Nicky and Tim together. "C'mon, make my fantasy come true!"

She doesn't care about Tim. He seems nicer now that he's loosened up, but it's all about Sophia. Let the girl get the picture, no matter how cute she looks with a baseball cap. She makes polite conversation with her and her group mate after, even if she can't stop looking at Sophia's tits. The moment they're alone she places a hand on that beautiful thigh, leaning in because the room is too loud.

"I'm Victoria, I don't think we've actually properly met," she shouts, leaning in close. Sophia smells great.

Fuck.

"Let me get you another drink."

Everything about this experience has been an absolute thrill. Surreal after working their asses off for years. Dropping out of the musical arts university they initially met at. Saving money by performing classics in nursing homes and kids songs at birthday parties for every minute of studio time they could get. Scrambling to secure spots in every talent competition and festival they could manage.

It's all been worth it. Now they're here, at Eurovision. Traditionally the United Kingdom doesn't perform well on the scoreboards. They're guaranteed their spot in the final, but that doesn't mean they're not going to give each and every performance their all. They want to make their country proud.

It's the in-between, though, that Sophia has really found herself caught up in. The parties are fun and lively, and the real parties are even better. They've made a lot of friends-- she and Eliza and Audrey are often glued at the hip, steadily infiltrating and infecting each group with vivacious energy. When they're together, they can do anything. Alone, Audrey rarely has the confidence to speak first and Eliza will paralyze herself with indecision.

Sophia thrives. With her girls or alone, though this is the first party they've gone to where they've separated at all. As it is, Audrey has been gravitating closer and closer to the boy from Austria handing out the cocktails, and Eliza has drifted to and from Sophia's side for most of the night, occasionally finding herself swept away by someone else.

This party is also different from all the others because Tim is here. And from the moment she laid eyes on that crooked smile and that hair curling beneath the edges of his ballcap, she knew she was a goner. There's something about American boys, she thinks. All rough around the edges, just waiting to be smoothed out with her delicate touch. She wants to coax him open and figure him out, learn everything he loves and hates and fall into bed with him.

In that order. She comes on strong, she knows. Audrey tells her she can't open her mouth without flirting, and she's afraid that may be true. But she likes to take things slow, even if commitment never sees the table. Dating isn't strictly necessary. She loves a good fling, and it's often all she can manage with how focused she is on the music. There just has to be a connection there.

She's been feeling the beginnings of one with Tim. He smiles when she steals the hat from his head, calls her darling in that beautiful honey accent of his. He's a little reserved, sticking close to his band during the press tours, but he's certainly coming out of his shell tonight. She gets him to dance with her for awhile, tells him if he wants his hat back, he can find it in her room tonight, and he grins. She cheers him on as loud as she can when he's shot gunning beers with everyone, and then he's pulling her into a group hug with one of the Italian boys, Nicky, and asking about body shots.

She's never shouted so fast in her life.

It's fun, it's exciting, it's arousing-- and then he does the same thing to Nicky, and the two of them cling and murmur to each other in a way that makes her heart drop into her stomach. Eliza finds her crestfallen, not that she's letting it show. She's still smiling, now talking to one of Iceland's duo and trying so hard not to watch how Nicky and Tim leave with each other.

Eliza can tell, though. She always can, and so she puts a fresh drink in Sophia's hand and puts her on the couch, sitting to one side of her. On the other is the one girl in the Italian band. The bassist, she thinks. It's not her kind of music, but she's been trying to pay close attention to all the other performances. She spends the entire time they're chatting trying to remember the girl's name, and she still hasn't by the time she's finished the drink in her hand. Thank God it's eventually given to her.

"Victoria," she repeats, smiling brightly. "I'm Sophia."

Eliza's gone, she realizes, having at some point turned her full attention to the rocker. There's a hand on her leg, and Sophia thinks nothing of it. She's always enjoyed feeling close enough to her girl friends to be cozy with them. She and Victoria may have just properly met, but Sophia has always made fast friends.

"You're so sweet. Just not one of those cocktails Anton is peddling? Another one is going to take me out."

That beautiful smile is aimed at Victoria and she does something she never really thought she would in a situation like this. She laughs, suddenly flustered, caught completely offguard at how bright and beautiful that smile is on her up close and aimed directly towards her.

What the fuck?

"No, no cocktails," she assures, and bumps the leg she's loosely holding onto, "I was thinking something a little normal like beer."

Here's where she should feel bad, probably. Here's where she doesn't: she leans in, talking like she's about to share a secret.

"I think our boyfriends ran away with each other."

Victoria leans in close, and Sophia does too, immediately understanding the universal signal for secret sharing. She loves that they're already close enough for this, even if alcohol has likely played a heavy hand in it.

Sophia's smile doesn't falter. Her mother taught her young that keeping a smile in place will never let them know when you're hurt. But her heart does twist a little with what Victoria says.

"I think you're right."

She leans back, looking at how pretty the other girl looks in the low lights of the party. Both of them do, she knows. She didn't wear this bra and this crop top for nothing. So why should either of them be pining after boys who'd rather pay attention to each other?

"We don't need them," she says, simple and decisive. Victoria's hand is still on her leg, so she takes it in both of hers and squeezes. "We'll have more fun without them, won't we?"

It sounds lovely. They can get a little drunker and a little gigglier and gossip and hold hands and make best friends all night long.

They don't. Victoria is surprised that Sophia's reached that conclusion already, because usually with girls like this it's more beer and a lot of listening. She thinks she wouldn't mind listening to Sophia talk, so elegant with that accent of hers and as she grabs her hand and squeezes, Victoria finds herself completely and utterly delighted.

"We can have much more fun," she agrees, and places her free hand on top of Sophia's. Her hands are soft, elegant like royalty with nails painted perfectly, and as Victoria glances down she squeezes them.

"I stole some keys to the roof," she confesses. It wasn't particularly hard, Nicky had purposefully started flirting with the security guard the first night they were there.

"Let's grab a six pack or some wine and fuck this place."

Sophia's never been one to waste her time, and she can certainly take a hint. Tim likes Nicky, and that's fine. It's good to know now before she's fallen completely head over heels for him, like she's so prone to doing far too easily.

She's absolutely keeping his hat, though. It looks cute on her, turning the low-rise jeans and cropped top combo into something a little American chic. Like she's walked off the set of one of their sex-and-romance seeped teenage TV shows. The hat is like a trophy for her efforts. The consolation prize.

This is what she needs. A new friend and a six pack of beer, because if she's going to look like she belongs at one of those American frat parties, she might as well drink like it, too.

"Let's do beer," she says, and as she stands to let Victoria lead the way, she laces their fingers together so they can't get separated. She's always quite liked the callouses musicians have, proven by the string of guitarist ex-boyfriends she has. There's just something about it, a little rough to the touch but so gentle in the way they work her body.

They move through the party, Sophia pulling Victoria to a full stop two times. Once to touch base with Audrey, and once to check in with Eliza. The girls will always be her top priority, and once she's assured that they're doing fine, she's happily trailing alongside Victoria again.

"I hope it's not cold up there," she says almost absently once they've gotten into the much quieter hallway. She still hasn't let go of Victoria's hand. "This outfit is cute, but I don't think it's going to keep me very warm."

Sophia holds her hand as she checks in with her girls--and, honestly, Victoria can't help but feel a pang of envy. Their band is a well-oiled machine, but Tommaso is too busy writing lyrics, Dante is more of a party animal than either she or Nicky, and Nicky is falling in love like he's prone to do every couple of years.

And they're guys. Which is fine, but platonic girlfriends is something rare for Victoria. If this doesn't work, maybe she can get over how cute Sophia is with those beautiful hips fit snug in denim and just meet her for a coffee occasionally. Victoria herself is dressed in men's suit slacks and an insanely low cut tank, a little masculine offset by a full face of makeup and her long hair.

(She does grab a case of beer from the communal pile, to which the boys from Iceland give her two thumbs up and say something she thinks might have been English but who knows with those two.)

"If it's too cold, I'll warm you up." She rubs the inside of her wrist with her thumb, immediately climbing the stairs.

--

It's a journey, and Vic's face lights up when she finds the key card actually works, shouting a very loud 'no fucking way!' and grinning widely. The door is opened revealing the cool, crisp night air, and Victoria does what any red-blooded, excited person would do. She yells at the top of her lungs.

It's not like she's a singer, after all.

"This is so fucking perfect--look, look, look at the stars, holy shit."

They make it to the roof, after about a dozen flights of stairs and Sophia wishing she would've worn boots with a lower heel. But it's worth it. Mainly because Victoria's energy is absolutely infectious from the moment she swipes the key card and the light turns green.

The shout bounces off the walls of the hallway, and Sophia shushes her in that giddy excited way that says she doesn't mean it at all. Her heart is in her throat a little bit, anxious at the idea of getting caught. The execs would not like it if two of their contestants were found on the roof with a stolen key card.

It all goes away the second the cold air hits her. It's startling, almost sobering, a breeze whipping her long hair around her face. Victoria yells, sending an odd thrill right up Sophia's spine. There's something primal about it, a bit masculine in a way that suits Victoria very well. Just like those slacks and the shirt that shows most of her cleavage.

She's not meaning to stare, but Sophia does love admiring her friends in their element. And Victoria looks very in her element here, powerful and larger than life. Sophia throws her arms around Victoria's shoulders, squealing with the sheer excitement of just being here, in Switzerland, for Eurovision, among dozens of like-minded individuals.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she says, jumping on her tip toes and fully jostling Victoria with her arms still around the other girl. "I live in the heart of London, you can never see the stars there."

She's setting down the beer as it happens. Sophia laughs, and squeals, and throws her arms around Victoria in a way that makes Victoria want her even more, catching her waist and holding her there, feeling sharp, angular hips with her thumb, their bodies' close, breasts touching as they hug. Sophia's infectious.

Victoria needs this.

"Too many fucking tourists in Rome for it to be quiet anymore," she agrees, but she doesn't care about London or Rome or lights at all. She cares about the girl on her tip-toes and the warmth of her body against hers.

They're so fucking close. Victoria leans in closer, one hand that had been on on Sophia's hip moving down to the other's outer thigh, keeping her gently in place.

"You wanna forget about Tim, Sophia?"

Victoria's warm, and Sophia can already feel the breeze prickling the hairs across her skin. She doesn't let go, comfortable with the way they've pressed against each other, clinging because she's pleasantly drunk and her feet hurt a little from climbing the stairs.

They're almost the same height when she's wearing these boots. Sophia looks away from the star speckled sky to meet Victoria's gaze. It's intense, captivating, gathering all of Sophia's often wandering attention instantly. There's a weight to it that she can't quite place, but she doesn't find herself shying away from yet either.

"That's why we're up here, isn't it?"

So they can get more drunk and both forget the boys who have scorned them tonight. She smiles, leaning forward a little further so they sway on the spot, their foreheads almost touching now. She feels warm with the alcohol buzzing in her veins.

"You are too fucking pretty to be left waiting."

"And you are too fierce a bitch to pine," Victoria says almost immediately, the truth of the words weighing her tongue for a moment. Sophia's beautiful, but her touches are so innocent, it gets her blood pumping. She wants to party. She wants to yell more.

She leans in closer, voice barely above a whisper as her hand moves from that outer thigh to the inner, touching the denim with a sensual, practiced air about it, sliding her fingers along the fabric as she breathes in the other's perfume and hair products. Her voice is a little smokey from her cigarettes, words accented but clear.

"Let's do something about it."

Her lips are hovering over Sophia's anyway, looking right at the girl for her reaction as that hand starts to travel upwards, searching for some sort of signal for her to stop. Her finger tips move to the top of the thigh, close to the other's crotch when she leans in for a proper kiss.

Victoria wants that. That innocent, that first time. She doesn't mind being an asshole for it. She gets what she wants, Sophia gets satisfaction. Everybody wins.

Sophia grins brightly, easily drunk off of shared girl power. She loves this, hyping her friends up, feeling on top of the world, knowing that when they have each other's backs, they can accomplish absolutely everything.

They don't need boys to string them along. They'll make their own fun, right here on this roof top where they can feel bigger and better than everything else. She wants to put on music, some kind of bubbly pop anthem they can dance to.

Her phone's in her back pocket, but Victoria's hands are wandering before she can finish even thinking about grabbing it. Sliding over her thigh, tracing up the inseam towards the heat between her legs. Her head spins a little, but she doesn't think it's from the alcohol this time. She steadies herself with hands on Victoria's shoulders, and thinks she should stop this before she's the one stringing someone along--

But Victoria kisses her with soft, sweet lips. She's only ever known the kisses of men, lips chapped and jaws rough with five o'clock shadows. Victoria tastes like wine and cigarettes, and she doesn't know why she doesn't stop this, the kissing or that hand continuing to wander, only that it feels really good, and she's quite a bit drunk.

That has to be it. Everyone gets a little more slutty and open when they're drunk, and Sophia is no exception. When she pulls back, she feels a little dazed, staring at Victoria with wide green eyes.

"Whoa," she says, breathless and a little bit giggly. Her smile flickers, uncertainty seeping in. "I, um-- I've never done this before-- Not um, with girls."

Victoria could quote that sentence word for word, said to her by a lot of women. Some mean it--and some, like Sophia, lean in a little bit.

The problem is that now Victoria has a taste of exactly what she wants--needs--and she's always been a bit selfish. It gets her places, and she shares that trait with Nicky: if they see something they like, they take it.

Victoria wants to take Sophia, sexual identity aside. And Sophia kisses back, soft and sweet and there's more of that innocence that turns Victoria on. She reaches the hand not in between the blonde's legs currently to grab at that hat.

Fuck that hat. Fuck Tim. Sophia is hers.

"You're kissing back," Victoria points out, throwing the hat to the side and trailing her hand down to softly slides the heel of her palm onto the singer's left breast, thumb gliding over where her nipple is underneath that incredible push-up bra.

"You don't have to do a single thing," she assures, and begins to trail kisses down the blonde's neck, nuzzling her hair away. "Just let me take care of you."

She is kissing back.

It's confusing, because she's never looked at a girl and wanted to kiss her. She has lots of friends who lean in that direction, some a little more fully than others, and she's never felt anything but platonic love for them.

Right? She's not so sure anymore, because now that she has kissed a girl, she finds that it's kind of nice. Different, but not bad. Softer and sweeter. Her heart is thumping like the bass in a fast-paced pop song, her head spinning from the alcohol and Victoria's hands on her body. She's not sure she knows what she wants, but she knows what she doesn't want, and that's for Victoria to stop.

Those lips feel amazing on her neck, leaving her skin tingling in their wake. That hand is slowly kneading her breast, the pressure against her nipple sending a shiver up her spine. Her head is confused, but her body isn't, reflexively leaning into each and every touch.

"Okay," she whispers, her arms sliding around Victoria's neck again. She breathes out slowly, ending in a tiny, nervous laugh. "This isn't what I expected from my first Eurovision."

Her laugh is transformative, the way she leans in with that perfect smile, the way she wraps her arms around Victoria like they're about to slow dance and not like the bassist fully plans on fingering her as soon as possible.

"I didn't expect to really like your band, but you sound beautiful," Vic counters. They're not comparable but it's banter to get her to relax. She kisses her again, tongue pushing past lips this time, removing her hands to unbutton her blouse as she does so.

When she pulls back, it's to shrug the low-cut thing off. She's got a black lace bra on, doesn't seem to give a shit it's a little cold, and smirks.

"C'mon."

She's already laying the blouse down the wall.

"Sit."

Sophia is brimming with nerves and an unexpected sense of anticipation. Why does she suddenly feel like a virgin again? Like this is her first time in the back of her boyfriend's car on prom night. She's been touched like this before plenty of times, should it really be so different just because it's with a girl?

It is, though not in a bad way, she's finding. Victoria kisses her again, deeper than before, Sophia's heart fluttering in her chest. One hand raises, slow but not quite hesitant, sliding into Victoria's soft hair as she gets lost in the taste of wine and cigarettes. Fitting, she thinks, for the other's meld of masculine and feminine energy.

Her head is spinning when Victoria pulls away, looking down at the soft curves of her body. So many times she's seen girls bodies like this, what with sleepovers and gym class and a million billion sexually charged commercials and advertisements, but now she's looking at it differently. Victoria's soft curves are appealing, so much different than the lithe muscles and hard abs she's used to.

She wants to feel them, but her nerves get the better of her. Victoria tells her to sit and she does, feeling the chill of the concrete through the thin fabric of the blouse.

"We should've brought a blanket," she says, because she's still a bit anxious and she needs to relax -- wants to relax -- and she wants to hear Victoria speak in that pretty rolling accent.

God she's cute, chatting nervously, anxious but already eager. Victoria lets the cold air wash over her, nipples hard underneath lace from both that and how turned on she is just by looking at the blonde like this. There's an excitement about it being her first time with a girl, like Victoria is showing her something forbidden by the way she sits facing her, reaching out to push some of that gorgeous hair out of her face.

"Don't worry," she purrs, and leans forward not to touch Sophia's lips but to whisper inches from them instead. "I said I was going to warm you up."

Her hands move, gently removing the button on those cute low rise jeans, quiet and soft and taking her time. She finally shifts to catch Sophia's lips in hers again, murmuring her approval into that warm mouth while her fingers slowly undo that zip next.

She pulls back slightly, wanting to watch the other as she brings her fingers up to lick the index and middle finger. They find their way down, pushing past the other's panties and sliding carefully down to her cunt, rubbing the folds with a feather light touch. She has to go slow.

That's another part of why she loves sleeping with straight girls: they're sensitive, curious, like they're virgins. It's endlessly hot.

Don't worry, Victoria says in that lovely accent, and it's almost like a magic spell. The rocker had said she would take care of her, and Sophia believes it. She's prone to taking things at face value anyway, but it's all over Victoria's actions. How gentle she is, how slow she goes. They're safe up here, unlikely to be caught.

Those soft lips meet hers again, Sophia tipping her head a little to deepen it, wanting more of that taste on her tongue. Victoria pulls back, licking her fingers in an erotic move that sparks a heat in the pit of Sophia's stomach. She didn't realize how wet she already is until that hand is sliding into her panties. All that anticipation buried under the nerves, now free to expand and leave her wanting.

Her lower lip catches between her teeth, hands dropping down to press against the concrete on either side of her. Victoria's touch is light and teasing, but she can feel the wetness starting to seep between her folds.

"Vic," she says, her voice a whisper as she feels heat rise in her cheeks. She's not sure what it is -- an encouragement or a plea. She's watching the other girl, so cool and confident, movements easy and well practiced. Victoria knows what she's doing, and it's hot.

Just a few touches and she's melting, putty in Vic's hands, and the bassist breathes out herself at the sight--how beautifully prone the other is, vulnerable, the way her whisper is barely perceptible, the colour in her cheeks. Victoria's grin flashes wide, a smokey, encouraging laugh dancing on her lips as she leans in for another kiss.

Fuck, this is hot. As long as Sophia keeps making those noises, Victoria wants to play her like a fiddle.

Fingers move, applying a bit of pressure, index sliding inside her pussy's folds and sliding up to her clit where she rubs a small soft circle, feeling that heat and wetness, tongue darting out to wet her own lips.

"Feels good?" she says, already knowing the answer. Her fingers move down, teasing the other's hole before gliding back up, repeating the motion with her clit, leaning forward and breathing heavily in Sophia's ear.

"You're already so wet, baby."

That smokey, playful laugh is intoxicating, reminiscent of the kind of music the bassist plays. Fitting, Sophia thinks, as those lips find hers again, and they taste the way the laugh sounds. She could get used to this, these head spinning kisses and the hands on her body.

The touch is smooth and well practiced, and it's not like she hasn't been with guys who are good with their hands, but Victoria is something else entirely. She's perceptive, understanding what Sophia's body wants before she fully realizes it herself. She's never experienced anything quite like it before.

It's unbearably sexy. Her breathing is already picking up, lips parted as that finger circles gently, dipping down to tease against her entrance just as the heat is starting to spread. A soft sound pulls from her throat, the beginnings of a whine before Victoria circles back up again. Those lips are at her ear, warm breath tickling her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Yeah," she breathes, her exhale shaky, hips canting up reflexively. "It feels really good, Vic."

She smothers Sophia with a kiss, unbothered about lipstick smearing, uncaring about the state of them--the bassist in her bra, hands down the pants of London's current favoured princess making her whine like it's prom night.

She slides her finger down again, moving her middle against her index as she kisses, leaning slightly so her thumb can still rub at that sensitive clit.

"Brava," she murmurs, lips moving down the other's cheek when she breaks away from the initial kiss. She dips a careful index finger in, pressing slowly and paying good attention to her partner's clit. It's tight, room wise, for her hand to fit--those damn jeans--but it doesn't seem to deter her.

She does think about settling in between those legs, thinks about licking Sophia until she's begging for her to stop, overstimulated after orgasm after orgasm--Victoria breathes out, moaning softly to herself, half for show and half because her second finger slides into Sophia's cunt and the sensation is impossibly hot. The hand not inside Sophia wanders casually up the other's shirt, cupping her breast over the bra as the bassist begins to kiss down the singer's jaw.

Sophia feels like she's going to melt. Each touch from Victoria has her both relaxing and quivering at once. The better it feels, the more she forgets about the initial nerves she felt, her breath hitching and stuttering in her throat. She's soaked now, the wetness seeping into her panties where Victoria's hand doesn't cover.

That first finger starts to press inside. Sophia's lips part, warmth and pleasure beginning to radiate from her core. It's too good and also not enough, wanting and aching to feel fuller, to feel that sweet slide against the walls of her cunt. When the second finger presses alongside the first, Sophia's moan mixes with Victoria's in the night air.

Her legs widen instinctively, finding her jeans uncomfortable and confining for the current situation. She's well past the point of feeling cold, but they are outside, with little protection between her and the rough concrete.

Fuck it.

"Wait," she murmurs, but it's only so she can take the waist of her too tight jeans and push them downwards. She's prying off her boots without unzipping them, because she wants the pants off, not just pulled down.

Sophia's writhing, lost in the moment, focusing only on Victoria's touch in a way that will stay with the bassist for a while. Something happens she's not expecting, and it makes her nearly lose her mind.

Sophia is the one kicking those jeans off. Vic isn't the one tugging them down with soft reassurances--it's not only confirmation that the pop singer wants this, but she's actively enjoying it. Those pants come off and the bassist sees those long shapely legs.

She absently puts the fingers that have been inside Sophia in her mouth, sucking hard as the other takes off her second shoe. There she is, undressing just for Vic, like Vic has some sort of power over her.

"They don't know what they're missing," she promises, tonguing the taste of the other off of her tongue, salty and warm and pleasant.

Her free hand moves to Sophia's thighs, parting her legs even more, running hands over that supple, pale leg beautiful under the moonlight. Those fingers move back in, though this time when they do Vic angles a little deeper, slowly dragging her hand out but stopping before she withdraws fully only to move back in again. She works Sophia slowly, crooking her fingers, thumb back to playing with that clit. The hand on Sophia's thigh moves up to push that bra away from her shirt, groping her breasts and pinching her nipple lightly.

"You've never been with a girl, dolcezza?"

There's something absolutely erotic about the cool night air breezing over her bare legs. Legs spread wide by the bassist's capable hand, exposing her in the most intimate way. Vulnerable out on display like this, but only for Victoria's hungry eyes.

She's never been more turned on in her life. Watching the obscene way the other sucks on those fingers makes her pussy throb, teeth dragging over her lower lip in anticipation. She wants it so bad. She doesn't think she's ever wanted it this bad.

Victoria gives it to her, slips those fingers back inside, gives her something for her cunt to clench against. They're angled different, dipping in deeper, Sophia gasping as the sparks dance over nerves. The calloused pad of the rocker's thumb brushes her clit, fingers working in and out of her tight heat, and she rocks her hips up reflexively in the same slow rhythm.

Her bra is pushed aside, her nipples hard before Victoria ever touches them. She whimpers, absolutely shameless with how she sounds, shaking her head before swallowing hard, speaking breathlessly.

"N-no. I haven't."

"That's really hot," Vic says bluntly, pulling her fingers out to rub both of them on Sophia's clit, rounded circles as her lips kiss and playfully bite along her shoulder, dragging downwards. Her fingers move back in and her free, dry hand running thumb along her breast before sliding down, exploring every inch of that beautiful body.

"You're so fucking hot," she's completely genuine as she moves her head down, too, tongue licking at the other's nipple before closing around aerola with her lips, licking and sucking.

Both of her hands pay attention to Sophia now, moaning half for show and half because she's unbelievably turned on with how the night is going. Her fingers begin to work Sophia in a steady rhythm, in easy step with her other hand gliding over her cunt, the pop star properly wet.

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