Jennie Kim is a photographer living in New York City.
Roseanne Park is a dancer who works at a strip club to pay for rent and school.
Jennie finds herself in the strip club after a stressful day and is immediately captivated by a certain little dan...
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Rosé's POV:
Jennie.
Gosh, Rosé couldn't stop thinking about her.
She had replayed the events of last night in her head over and over again, and every time she'd bite her lip and squeeze her thighs together in hopes that the fire between her legs would calm.
Posing for Jennie naked in her sex dungeon had been a discovery, an epiphany of her deepest and darkest fantasies. She ached for Jennie's touch. She found herself wanting to submit to the marvel of a woman. She wanted to be thoroughly fucked by Jennie, taken anyway Jennie desired.
It was like nothing she'd ever felt before.
Rosé hadn't really considered herself a sexual person before. In her past relationships sex had just been about connection more than pleasure. The sex had been pretty vanilla if you ask her. And the only times she'd ever come in her life was by her own hand, and also with that one girl she hooked up with in high school, which had been gratifying, she'll admit, but nothing earth-shattering. It was a relief for a temporary itch, but eventually, that itch always came back and the relief wouldn't last long.
Rosé couldn't help but think that it would be different with Jennie, a far cry from the mediocre sex she'd had in the past.
It was with those thoughts that Rosé lay on her couch in the middle of the afternoon, her legs spread open for wandering fingers, and Jennie's name on her breath like a wild wind.
She just couldn't stop herself from picturing Jennie's perfect hands roaming her body, touching the most intimate parts of her. Rosé pictured Jennie bending her over the table, pressing and holding her neck down while her hands are tied behind her back. She pictured Jennie thrusting into her from behind, fucking her so hard to the point where her legs give out.
"Jennie! Fuck... oh, Jennie! Yes! Yes! Right there... fuck!" Rosé screamed out to an empty apartment. She had two fingers deep in her pussy while she rubbed her swollen clit tirelessly with her other hand. With each thrust, she imagined Jennie's fingers inside her, filling her up wondrously.
Rosé's breathing was labored and thick, and her moans echoed throughout her living room. She was on the brink of release, getting close, so close. She curled her fingers, hitting that well-known spot she knew would send her over the edge, and—oh fuck—that felt amazing. She felt the pressure, her walls tight around her fingers, and then a wonderfully violent wave of relief.
A slew of curses erupted from her mouth as she came, and she called out for Jennie, the woman's name leaving her lips as some sacred secret whispered in the ether.
It was a sensationally intense experience. One she'd never had before, certainly not by her own hand. She almost couldn't believe it.
She waited for the heavy rise and fall of her chest to settle. When she finally relaxed, she stood up from the couch and blushed when she saw the size of the wet spot on it.
