Step-Sister Booty Sniffer

Jenna Sativa strips in the bathroom. She leaves her panties behind, forgotten on the tile. Her step-sister Lena finds them and nearly shivers with want. She has stolen so many pairs already—pressing the cotton to her nose, inhaling Jenna like a habit she can’t break. Alone, she drops to her knees, works her fingers over her clit and sucks the scent of the cloth deep into her throat, moaning loud enough that the sound drifts down the hall. Jenna returns, catches the scene mid-stroke: her underwear stuffed between Lena’s parted lips, Lena’s hand buried between her own thighs. The flush hits Lena’s cheeks, panic flashing, but Jenna steps closer instead of leaving. She studies her sister with a slow, sly smile, the kind that curves at one corner. “You do laundry now?” Jenna asks, voice low. She knows the answer; Lena never lifts a finger for her. Still kneeling, Lena tries the lie anyway, voice trembling around the fabric in her mouth. Jenna tilts her head, amused, then softer: “I like it.” That sentence alone makes Lena’s pulse hammer. Jenna takes her wrist, guides her across the hall to the bed, and stops at the edge. “Have you ever done this before?” she murmurs. Lena shakes her head, breathless. Jenna smiles again, turns, and bends. “Put your face in it.” Lena doesn’t wait. She presses forward, nose sliding between the warm cheeks, lips parting so she can lick. The taste hits her tongue—salt, heat, the clean musk of skin—and her mind whites out for a second. Every stolen sniff in empty rooms has led here: Jenna solid in front of her, hips rocking, letting Lena open and taste without mercy. Reality crashes over fantasy. Lena grips her thighs for balance and keeps going, tongue working deeper, breath coming ragged against Jenna’s skin.