The Cheerleader

Dr. Kat Dior tells Kennedy Kressler her groin injury won't need surgery. Just massage. Kennedy watches her doctor climb onto the table in a white coat, oil bottle strapped to her thigh. Warm hands slide up Kennedy's bare leg. The cheer uniform comes off quickly—tiny breasts, polkadot panties. Kat shrugs out of her own top, full breasts brushing the air between them. She asks about the boyfriend. The football player. Six months. Kat says it doesn't sound promising, that a girl Kennedy's age should keep her options open. Fingers trace between Kennedy's thighs from behind, slip inside. Kennedy tries to pull away. Kat talks soft and low, then leans in and licks slow circles around Kennedy's nipples. She moves lower, tongue working steady against the teen's clit. It feels good, and it feels wrong. Nobody else has to know. Kennedy spreads wider. Her mouth finds Kat's pussy, greedy now, sucking and licking while her own body shakes through one long, rolling orgasm.