The Competition

Eliza Jane and Ayumi Anime laze in her bedroom, talking, doing nothing. Eliza leans in, lips parted, but Ayumi pulls back. Cherie’s downstairs. She hears the mattress creak with every shift of their weight. "It’s fine," Eliza murmurs, tongue flashing quick. "Mom’s chill about the whole gay thing." She hesitates, teeth catching her lip. "Except there’s a catch. Anything I bring home, she takes." Downstairs hinges barely whisper, Cherie pushing the bedroom door wider, eyes already hungry when they land on the tight jeans Ayumi’s barely wearing. She crosses the carpet in three strides and plants herself right there, shirt already half-off. Eliza stands, protests weak. Cherie shrugs like gravity, grabs Ayumi’s wrists, pushes the girl’s palms straight to her bare tits, nipples stiff under smooth skin. "I’ve fucked girls older than you," she breathes. "Younger than you." Ayumi’s mouth opens, closes, no words coming. Eliza watches her mother lean closer, then yanks off her own top. "Fine," she spits, "two can play." Ayumi looks at the both of them. Mother. Daughter. Bodies inches apart. She swallows hard, then reaches for each of them with greedy hands, claim staked in greedy silence.