Wrong Bag, Right Time

Myra dumped her backpack on the bed and something heavy thumped against her math notebook. She unzipped the side pocket and froze. A double-ended dildo slid halfway out—glossy purple, flexible, obviously used. Wrong bag. Definitely Lana’s. Her mouth went dry. She checked the tags: Lana Smalls, same homeroom, same bus route. Myra’s pulse kicked. Heat spread low. She tugged the toy free, pressed the blunt tip to her lower lip. The other end still carried a faint trace of Lana’s scent. Fuck it. Myra peeled off her school tights, left the pleated skirt on, and pushed the thicker end between her thighs. One slow thrust seated it deep. She caught the second shaft and rocked her hips, riding both inches with a slick, wet sound. The door clicked open. Lana stood framed by the hallway light, still in uniform, backpack slung from one hand. Her gaze dropped between Myra’s spread knees. Instead of shock, a tiny smirk curved her mouth. “Looks like you found my spare,” she said. She set the bag aside, kicked the door shut. “Room for two?” Myra didn’t hesitate. She pulled the toy halfway out, held it ready. Lana dropped her skirt, climbed onto the bed, and eased down onto the exposed end until their cunts met, clits brushing. They rocked together—slow at first, then harder—sharing every inch of the secret dick they now refused to give back.