daniela avanzini

“my thighs miss you.” you said, rubbing your own skin while looking up at dani with a pout.

you were both in bikinis, laying on towels under the shade in a secluded spot on the dominican beach.

she turned to you with furrowed eyebrows and a chuckle, not sure if she heard you right. “what?”

“my thighs miss you.” you repeated yourself, to which she replied, “‘the fuck does that even mean, bro?” she clicked off her phone and set it aside.

“it means i need you between them again.” you separated your legs slightly, an invitation. she sighed and grabbed a towel from the bag, draped it over your bottom half, and moved her head under it. between your thighs.