Panty Sniffing Weirdo

On the school trip Jenna wished she could room with anyone besides silent Kate, that girl buried under hoodies. But luggage rules. Jenna owned beautiful lace panties, tucked them in neat rows, each one perfumed. She stepped into the shower. Behind her, Kate’s hands moved. She lifted a creamy white thong, pressed it to her nose, then stepped into it. Cotton dampened against her heat. Jenna came back towel-wrapped, saw the intruder inside her silk. "What the fuck?" Kate held out a burgundy lace bottom, voice soft. "Try this. Against your skin." Ego soothed by praise, Jenna prattled, hips twisting, about colors that flattered her ass. The hoodie slipped. Beneath, Kate’s breasts were small, bare, pink. Jenna eyed them, the unspoken permission passing like heat through silk. Next, Kate was still wearing Jenna’s panties. The anger flared again, then Kate asked one favor: permission to sniff them. Jenna hesitated, curiosity winning. She wiggled into a scarlet pair, offered the gusset pressed warm between her cheeks. Kate’s breath soaked cotton. Another demand, slower now—on the bed, legs parted. Kate nosed closer, promised a shopping spree for endless pretty things, then pushed satin aside and licked. Jenna freed the panties, trembling, let Kate taste her fully. Sated, she indulged the quiet girl’s next whim: one purple thong chosen for the inside of her cunt. Kate lowered over Jenna’s mouth, cunt wet, parted. Lace followed fingers, disappeared to knuckles, emerged drenched. Jenna took her time pulling it out, let the juice string, then offered her own wetness in exchange. They rolled, sixty-nine, tongues busy. They came together, soaked fabric clinging, slick and spent.