Bunking Up: Part One

Kimmy Granger rules the halls. Everyone worships her, even when she tears them down. Today the rumor mill spins around her mother's new ring and the geek who's suddenly her step-sister. Kristen is the girl who eats alone in the stall, the girl who games until dawn; Kimmy already hates sharing oxygen with her. Kristen pushes into the room anyway, trying to make nice. Kimmy cuts her off cold, eyes sharp, voice colder, and walks away. Left standing in Kimmy's bedroom, Kristen opens the closet and finds the stash: glossy photos, glossy lube, sticky magazines full of spread thighs. Heat sparks between her legs. She drops onto the bed, jeans undone, fingers working fast, eyes locked on one crumpled picture of Kimmy naked and smirking. Her mind drifts. Fantasy Kimmy is back, naked now, towering over her. The real girl forces Kristen's mouth onto her shaved slit, grinding slow and deliberate while the real Kimmy still lounges at her vanity. In the dream the goddess flips around, sitting on Kristen's face, pussy slick, clit hard; at the same time the fantasy Kimmy spreads Kristen's legs and starts to scissor, rubbing hard, wet folds sliding together, clit on clit, until Kristen arches, gasps, comes in pulsing waves. Kimmy moans her name, comes with her, and the world blanks out white. Back in the bedroom Kristen is shaking, fingers soaked, the real Kimmy still nowhere in sight. The door creaks. Someone is coming.