Learning From The Best

Kenzie's hunched over her laptop, cursing under her breath about bolsters. The word might as well be Martian. She needs this certification and she's bleeding out on the exam section that decides everything. Dee hears the frustrated muttering from the hallway, steps in wearing that casual robe she never ties tight enough. When she asks what's wrong, Kenzie blurts it out, eyes tracing Dee's hands, remembering how those fingers can turn muscle to liquid. The irony tastes bitter. Dee offers the obvious fix—hands-on practice. Kenzie says yes before the sentence finishes. She ends up on the table, bolster wedged under her knees, face burning hotter with every touch. Dee talks technique, but her voice lowers, and Kenzie stops answering. When Dee has her roll onto her stomach, hips high, ass and cunt exposed to cool air, the room shrinks. Dee's palm slides between Kenzie's thighs, knuckles brushing soaked lips, and neither of them pretends it's still about study. Dee eats her like she's starving, tongue working where the bolster keeps everything perfectly open. Kenzie comes hard, gasping against the table edge, then pulls Dee up to switch places. She wants Dee's taste on her mouth, wants the same lesson again, rougher next time.