Cheeky Flatmates

Maya Bee is clearing out lingerie that still smells like last year's parties. Jean watches from the doorway, pulse kicking. When Maya bends, those sheer panties draw a straight line between her thighs and the rest of her. Jean is already moving, already sinking, her mouth open before the question forms. She drags the fabric aside and presses her face to that heat, licking long and slow, fingers parting slick folds to stroke inside. Maya reaches back, gathers Jean's hair, rides her mouth in quiet pulses. Then Maya takes the mirror, pulls Jean up, spreads her cheeks and buries her tongue there too—wet, insistent, and unhurried.