Virtual Rock Star

Elle’s homework feels like shit. Skylar and Catie trade a look, then drift over and coax her off the chair. She gives in without a fight. One moment she’s alone with her books, the next she’s barefoot on pale marble, guitar in hand while Catie claims the mic and Skylar settles behind the kit. Glass walls throw back their shadows, turning the open living room into their own private arena. They play hard, three girls lost in the echo of their own noise, hair damp, cheeks flushed. When the last chord dies they’re panting and restless again. Catie swings a leg over a speaker and suggests they burn off the leftover buzz. Shorts come off in an easy tug; the girls step free and the warm air licks new skin. Skylar and Catie crowd close, lips brushing, and Elle’s breath catches as her top drops away and two mouths taste her small, tight breasts. Heat pools low in her stomach. Catie drops to her knees first, spreads Elle’s smooth thighs, and leans in to drag her tongue over a bare, glistening slit. Elle’s hips twitch. They shift, Skylar on her back, Catie straddling her face. Skylar licks and sucks while Catie rides, a wet, rhythmic sound filling the still room. Then positions change. Catie licks Skylar open while Elle kneels between her girlfriend’s legs and learns how a woman tastes for the first time. Her tongue grows bolder with every stroke until Skylar is gasping, hands fisted in Elle’s hair. Fingers slide, slick and firm. Tongues chase quivers. Elle palms Skylar’s thigh and watches the pulse beneath her mouth throb harder. Pressure builds, then peaks; Skylar comes with a low, broken moan, hips rolling once, twice, before the three collapse in a breathless, giggling tangle on the cool floor, skins gleaming, legs still tangled.