Forget About Your Boyfriend

Athena's just been dumped when Christie bursts in with an idea and a grocery bag. The moment she shakes those two pairs of tights free, Athena raises an eyebrow like she's landed in a soft-core sitcom. Doesn't stop Christie though. Off comes the tight pink dress, then the lacy bits underneath, hips swaying like she knows she's the punchline to a very dirty joke. Athena's watching Christie's round ass and full tits, heat rising faster than she can decide what to do with it. Christie's already wrestling the red tights up her legs, fabric snapping into place like shrink-wrap on temptation. That’s enough for Athena. She shrugs out of her own dress, steps into the second pair, and the girls are suddenly comparing chests with hands that can’t keep still. Fingertips trace fabric, moisture seeping through the sheer nylon until Christie grabs the scissors. Quick snips. Crotches open. Then they’re pressed together, folds slick on slick, grinding like they invented the move. Christie spins Athena over the couch arm, drops to her knees, and goes to work—tongue diving between parted pink lips, tasting every twitch. Judging by the moans, the ex-boyfriend is already ancient history.