Cheered On

Lulu Chu just joined the cheer squad and still feels like an outsider among the tighter bodies and sharper timing. She is supposed to be tutoring Harmony Rivers in math, but Harmony needs a win right now more than a passing grade. In exchange for all the notebooks full of step-by-step fractions, Harmony offers to show Lulu the posture that makes a girl look like she owns the room. Harmony circles her new teammate, fingertips skimming the blades of Lulu’s shoulders. "Back. Like this," she says, pressing until Lulu’s chest lifts and the thin cotton of her tank tightens over her breasts. The brush of thumbs along the upper curve of each breast lingers an extra beat too long, long enough for the air between them to shift. "Chin level." Harmony’s hand finds the underside of Lulu’s jaw. "Now step forward on your right—let me see your hip." She cups the curve there, guiding the bone forward until Lulu’s pelvis tilts toward her own. Heat pulses under the cotton shorts where Harmony’s thigh rests against her. The contact lasts too long for a lesson. Lulu exhales and the sound is shaky. Harmony catches the tremor. She steps in closer, their breath mingling. "Relax," she whispers, even as her palm slides down the flat of Lulu’s stomach and settles between her legs, cupping the heat already gathering. Lulu’s hips buck once, reflex and want. Harmony answers with a slow, deliberate grind of knuckles through the thin fabric. A soft, wet sound answers her touch. They reach for each other at the same moment. The kiss lands open-mouthed, tongues flicking, hungry. Harmony walks Lulu backward until the younger girl’s ass hits the edge of the kitchen table. Papers scatter. Harmony’s fingers hook the waistband of Lulu’s shorts and yank them down; no patience left. Bare skin flashes. Lulu’s cunt glistens, lips already puffy. Harmony drops to her knees, drags the flat of her tongue from entrance to clit in one long lick, then seals her mouth over the swollen nub and sucks until Lulu’s thighs start to shake. Fingers slide in next—two at first, curling fast, searching for that spongy ridge inside. Lulu claws the tabletop, heels drumming the chair rungs. Harmony fucks her with steady, filthy precision, knuckles bumping the slick opening on every thrust. When Lulu’s moans tip into helpless little sobs, Harmony stands, strips her own shorts away, and climbs onto the table. She lines their cunts together, slick folds kissing slick folds, then rocks—clit sliding against clit with wet, rhythmic drags. Lulu comes first, sudden and loud, body snapping tight around nothing and everything. Harmony keeps grinding until her own orgasm breaks, thighs locked, breath stuttering against Lulu’s open mouth. They stay pressed together, sweat cooling on bare skin. Harmony smooths damp hair from Lulu’s temple. "Told you," she says, voice still husky. "You already had everything you need."