Their Passion For Panties

Vanessa kicked off her heels. Charlotte dropped her purse. Both women had come home frustrated and horny, their dates running for the hills the moment panties came up. “Can’t believe he looked at me like I was a freak,” Vanessa muttered. Charlotte let out a dry laugh. “Mine practically sprinted.” They stared at each other, heat slowly replacing the sting of rejection. The truth settled between them—the roommate code suddenly felt paper-thin. Vanessa stepped closer, hooked two fingers into the waistband of Charlotte’s skirt, and tugged her forward until their lips brushed. “We want the same thing,” she whispered. Charlotte answered by shoving Vanessa onto the couch, climbing over her, and pressing the damp crotch of her panties straight to Vanessa’s mouth. The scent hit instantly: rich, tangy, unmistakably female. Vanessa inhaled like a woman starved, sucking the soaked cotton, tongue working through the fabric until Charlotte moaned above her. They stripped each other greedily, trading lingerie back and forth—Vanessa burying her face in Charlotte’s still-warm thong while Charlotte licked the gusset of Vanessa’s, eyes rolling back at the taste. They sixty-nined on the living-room floor, panties sliding over noses and lips in an endless, wet loop, every fresh pair passed between them like contraband. The room filled with soft gasps and the slick sounds of greedy mouths feasting, neither woman slowing until every inch of cotton had been worshipped, sucked, and soaked all over again.