Naughty Neighbor

Kristen Scott knocks on the door of the quiet suburban house. A girl her own age, Sabina Rouge, answers. “Can I help you?” she drawls, sarcasm curling around every word. Kristen smiles awkwardly. “Sorry to bother you. I made a batch of cookies. New-neighbor thing.” Sabina leans close, inhales. Her eyes flare. “Gimme,” she says, grabbing. Kristen snatches the plate back. “It’s for the whole family. Maybe I should—” Sabina steps aside. “They’ll be back any minute. Wait inside.” Kristen follows her. Sabina leads her straight to a bedroom, drops onto the bed, stretches out like it’s her throne. They talk. Kristen's words start soft and easy, then falter when fingers brush her knee once, twice, the touch lingering the third time. Kristen feels the contact heat her skin. Sabina edges a knee outward, then another. Her skirt creeps higher. No panties. Bare, smooth, a calm provocation laid out between her thighs. Kristen glances down, tries not to, and glances again. Sabina stretches wider. Kristen swallows and finally blurts, “You’re coming on to me.” Sabina laughs low. “Looks like you’re the one with girls on the brain.” Kristen flushes. “I’m straight.” “And straight girls don’t peek,” Sabina counters, rolling onto one hip so everything stays in plain view. After a pause she offers, “We could just kiss, you decide later if you like it.” Kristen hesitates, then tips forward. Their mouths meet, heat blooming. Sabina pulls back only long enough to peel her own shirt away. “Touch me first,” she whispers. Kristen palms her breasts, thumbs circling hard nipples, fascinated at how they tighten. Then she strips her own top and Sabina licks across the stiff peaks, lips tugging, tongue wet. Kristen gasps. “Want to taste mine?” Sabina asks. Kristen nods, leans in, dragging an open-mouthed kiss over warm flesh until Sabina moans. Sabina kicks free of her skirt, bare cunt glistening. “Want a lesson?” Kristen bites her lip, but nods again. Shorts drop; she lies back. Sabina spreads her, tongue slow and relentless over her swollen clit. Kristen clutches the sheets, a small shocked cry escaping. Pleasure builds, sharp, almost unbearable. “Now you,” Sabina says, easing onto her back. Kristen kneels between parted thighs, studies the glistening seam, then licks: careful, then hungry, lips parting slick folds, tasting every inch. She finds the rhythm Sabina showed her—flattening her tongue, circling, sucking the taut clit. Sabina grinds down, hands in Kristen’s hair. Both girls move instinctively, raw, learning, and the bedroom fills with their breath and small, filthy sounds.