Netskirts #04

Shyla shows up clutching a stack of papers. “Homework.” Samantha lets the corner of her mouth lift, says nothing, just steps aside. The girls vanish into her apartment, the city lights humming beyond the windows. On the screen they scroll past soft white thighs wrapped in summer skirts, tiny hips riding polished fingers, a tongue flashing pink between trembling lips. Shyla watches Samantha watch it. Their shoulders graze, then still. Seconds stretch. Samantha shuts the laptop with one finger. When she turns, her eyes stay level. She eases Shyla onto the bed, peels each button from its hole, parts the fabric until thin cotton briefs come into view. Samantha tucks two fingers under the edge, sliding them slick along the seam until Shyla’s breath slips out in pieces. Shyla opens wider, hips lifting on cue, and Samantha pushes in deeper, wrist twisting, thumb keeping time. Knuckles press, curl, push again until Shyla’s legs shake and the last page drifts from her lap to the floor.