The Joys Of Pillow Humping

Gia DiBella keeps blowing through pillows like rent’s due, so Kendra shows up with a fresh one. Gia shuts her bedroom door; Kendra forgets toppings and doubles back. When she walks in, Gia’s already straddling the new pillow, hips snapping. Kendra freezes, then puts two and two together—six dead pillows make perfect sense now. Instead of scolding, she steps inside, curiosity thick in her throat. Gia catches her eye, mouth swollen, and pats the pillow. Kendra sheds her blouse, kneels, still tentative, then rocks forward until the cushion finds the right seam. Their rhythm builds; the bedframe chatters. They press together, legs tangled around the spent pillow, hair stuck to flushed skin, every breath shared and hungry.