Watch These Cute Lezzie BFFs Explore Forbidden Desires in Cosplay
Lezzie BFF — that’s what they called us. Best friends forever, glued at the hip, matching cosplay outfits, giggling through anime cons, and posting TikToks that made our followers scream “YASSS SISTERS!” But what they didn’t know? The real fun started when the cameras turned off. When the hotel room door clicked shut. When the costumes came off — slowly, teasingly — and the truth came out.
We weren’t just Lezzie BFFs. We were fucking Lezzie BFFs.
It started as a dare. We were dressed up — I was Sailor Moon, she was Harley Quinn — tight latex, fishnets, cherry-red lips. We’d been drinking, whispering, “Would you ever kiss a girl?” And then she looked at me, eyes half-lidded, and said, “Only if it’s you.”
That was all it took.
Her gloved hand touched my thigh. My breath hitched. And then her mouth was on mine — hot, wet, filthy — and I was moaning into her kiss like I’d been starving for it. Because I had. We both had. All those years of side hugs, sleepovers, sharing showers after dance practice — it was all leading to this. Two Lezzie BFFs finally giving in to the sexual tension that had been simmering under every giggle, every glance, every secret.
She pushed me back onto the bed, her stiletto digging into the floor as she climbed over me. Her hands slipped under my skirt — the short pleated one, so damn schoolgirl — and yanked my panties down. “Look at how wet you are,” she purred, fingers sliding through my soaked folds. “You’ve wanted this forever, haven’t you, bestie?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Only you… my Lezzie BFF.”
She didn’t tease. She went straight for it — diving down, tongue lashing my clit like she’d been practicing in her dreams. And damn, could she eat pussy. She worshiped me. Sucked my nub like a cherry lollipop, fingers pumping deep inside me, stretching me, filling me — owning me. I arched my back, fingers tangled in her pigtails, screaming her name as the first orgasm ripped through me.
Then it was my turn. I flipped her over, ripped off her corset, and buried my face in her sweet, tight snatch. She was dripping — juices glistening on her inner thighs, her clit peeking out like a little pearl. I feasted. Licked her like she was my last meal, sucked her folds, bit her gently until she was bucking against my face, begging for more.
We grabbed a strapon — pink, vibrating, perfect — and I strapped it on. She bent over, ass in the air, cosplay jacket still on. “Fuck me, bestie,” she whimpered. “Pound my tight little pussy like you hate me.”
So I did.
Thrust after thrust, the strapon slamming into her sopping wet hole, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping, moans, the creak of the bed. She came screaming, juices running down her thighs, and I came right after — body trembling, heart racing, Lezzie BFF love burning through every nerve.
After, we collapsed, tangled in each other, sweat-slicked and satisfied. “We’re not telling anyone,” she said, giggling.
“Never,” I whispered, kissing her neck. “But we’re doing this again. Every. Single. Con.”
Because once you’ve tasted your Lezzie BFF… there’s no going back.
