Is That A BUTTPLUG??

Nicole and Penny had this game. It went way back. Whoever could yank the other's pants down when they least expected it scored a point. Nicole kept losing. Penny knew every trick. She'd ring the bell or leave dishes in the sink to draw Nicole away, then slip in fast and finish her. Loser couldn't strike back the same day, so Nicole stayed stuck at zero. Today Nicole stands by the window, phone to her ear. Penny moves quiet behind her, fingers already reaching for belt loops. She yanks. Nothing gives. Nicole kills the fake call, spins, and grins. "You thought you had me." Her sweater lifts enough to show the straps of overalls hooked tight. She'd planned this. Penny bolts, but Nicole catches denim and pulls hard. Jeans drop. Bare skin. A glint of steel. A jeweled plug sits snug between Penny's cheeks. Nicole's breath catches. Heat spreads low. "First win," she says, voice rough. "We should mark it." Penny's eyes widen, then darken when Nicole steps closer, one hand already on her hip. Clothes hit the floor quick. Nicole drops to her knees, tongue sliding where steel meets skin, then works the plug slow, shallow, turning it while Penny's legs shake. Fingers replace tongue, plug pushed deeper, pulled free, pushed again. Penny laughs, swears, grips Nicole's hair. They roll across the couch, bite marks, wet sounds, frantic heat until both finish hard and sprawled, still grinning.