Nosy Housekeeping

Ilsa pulls dresser drawers wider than she needs. Sarah Cute watches her fingers wander, tells her to quit. Ilsa straightens, eyes lock. The next heartbeat lands them on the bed with Sarah straddling, thighs tight around Ilsa’s hips. Mouths meet open, tongues pressing hard. Shirts yank upward, skirts shove aside. Sarah’s hand finds the wet slit and rubs in slow circles before two fingers slide inside. Ilsa gasps against her throat, hips lifting to meet every push. They roll once. Sarah on her back now, legs hooked over Ilsa’s shoulders. Ilsa grinds down, slick folds slipping against slick folds, rhythm steady and wet. Their breathing turns ragged. The bed creaks. Sweat beads between Sarah’s breasts. Ilsa sucks a nipple, teeth light, until Sarah trembles and comes in short, sharp pulses around her fingers. They catch their breath only to switch again, slower now, thighs locked, mouths lazy, the sheets damp beneath them.