Shenanigans At The Sorority House

She leaned in until the tip of her nose brushed mine, breath warm, the smell of her skin clean like soap and cotton. My camera still sat on the tripod aimed at the empty room when she started unbuttoning her shirt. Buttons gave without resistance; her bra slipped down, and her small, firm breasts met the air, nipples tight. She pushed her shorts down next, panties following, and knelt forward, knees apart, shaved pink lips already glistening. I tasted her first. One long, slow lick. She tasted faintly sweet and hot on my tongue. Her thighs shook when I sealed my mouth around her clit, and she ground down, careful at first, then not. Two fingers slipped inside her easily. She gasped, clenched, came hard against my mouth with a broken cry. The whole thing lasted minutes—soft wet noises, the slick drag of my tongue, her quiet panting above me. Then it was my turn. I peeled out of my jeans, leaned back on the bed, and spread my legs. Trimmed dark hair formed a neat little triangle above bare, swollen folds. Her tongue went straight in, hungry. She lapped in quick strokes, learning my rhythm, then sucked. Her fingers stayed busy, two of them stroking where my own would have gone. My orgasm crept up and hit fast—sharp, pulsing, sudden—leaving me wet down my thighs. I pushed her face deeper until every last tremor passed. Lying there, flushed, we both remembered the blinking red light. I reached over, stopped the recording, and made sure the file never left my phone. Later I forwarded it straight to you instead. Enjoy.