Getting It Warmed Up For Her

Lauren Phillips grabs the box at the door without reading the label. She pops it open in the living room. Inside waits a thick dildo wrapped in tissue. She thinks it might be a random gift, then remembers Charlie Forde still lives here. Lauren starts shoving it back into the carton. Instead, she stares at the toy, runs her tongue over her bottom lip, and thinks fuck it. She drops her jeans, kicks them aside, and works the silicon head against her pussy, teasing herself before pushing it in slow. Her thighs tremble. Wet sounds fill the quiet room. Footsteps stop at the hallway. Charlie leans against the doorframe, slips a hand under her waistband, and watches the roommate ride her own new toy. Lauren keeps fucking herself, eyes shut, free hand twisting her nipple until she’s gasping. Charlie’s breathing gets ragged. Fingers working faster under denim. Finally, Charlie steps forward and clears her throat. Lauren freezes, toy half buried, face flushed. "I... thought it was mine," she stammers. "Opened it before I checked." Charlie pulls the zipper down and steps out of her pants. "Then it’s mine for the day," she says, voice low. "Clean it." Lauren doesn’t hesitate. She pulls the dildo free with a wet pop, brings the head to her mouth, and licks her own slick from the shaft while keeping eye contact. Charlie’s grin is sharp. She takes two steps, grabs Lauren’s hair, and guides that same spit-slick toy back between the girl’s legs. Lauren moans around the intrusion as Charlie pushes it deep and sets a hard rhythm. Fingers soon follow, Charlie’s other hand pressing Lauren’s thigh wider. The toy ends up forgotten. Charlie ends up on the floor with Lauren riding her mouth, hips grinding, sweat dripping down her spine while Charlie works tongue and fingers without mercy. Every wet sound, every slap of skin, every curse muttered between them rewrites the afternoon into something filthy and forgiven.