I Knew She Was Up To Something

Maya perches at the kitchen island, eyes fixed on Holly as she dresses for her appointment. The urge flares, sudden and hot. "Can't we play before you leave?" Holly tilts her head, tempted, but the clock is cruel. Cancel, pay the fee—Holly shakes her head, promises every ounce of attention when she returns. She plants a lingering kiss and slips out. Alone, Maya paces. Distraction fails. She drifts to the bedroom, stretches across the sheets, slides her panties down. Her cunt is already slick, dripping from the dirty thoughts she nursed at the island. Fingers sink in, steady, greedy. Each stroke pulls a soft, wet sound from between her legs. She is so deep in it she misses the door. Holly steps in, peeks around the corner, watches Maya work herself open. A smile curves her mouth. She hides behind a leafy plant, savoring the view, the small natural tits rising, the quick, sure flick of Maya's wrist. When Maya gasps, eyes closed, Holly steps forward. Caught. Heat floods Maya's face. Then Holly moves closer, and embarrassment melts into hunger. Maya is soaked, ready. Holly reaches for her.