One Taste Is All It Takes

Lena sat on the couch with an open book, until Kendra bent forward and shoved her bare ass into her view. The book slammed shut. Lena’s voice rose. She told Kendra to put on panties, for God’s sake, she was an adult and should show some dignity. Kendra answered with a shrug: her house, her rules, and it was only a cunt. To prove the point she caught Lena’s wrist and dragged her hand between her thighs, pressing her fingers against slick, pulsing heat. Lena recoiled. She could feel the heavy warmth, like the lips were breathing, and she asked why it was so hot. When Kendra left the room, the smell clung to her fingers. She lifted them, inhaled once, then again. She brought them to her mouth and licked. Sweet, tangy, impossible to stop. The taste sent heat straight to her own cunt. She followed the scent into Kendra’s bedroom and rifled the drawers until she found crumpled panties. She held the damp cotton to her nose, breathed deep, and another shiver ran through her. She grabbed a second pair, then a third. That was when the door opened. Kendra stood watching. Lena stammered about laundry, but the lie died fast. Kendra stripped without hurry and stretched out on the bed, legs apart. Lena stared, lips parted. “I want to,” she said, almost a whisper, “but it’s wrong.” Kendra gave a small laugh. “We’re not related, and it’s only pussy. Eat mine.”