Teens at home

Jordan and I had homework up to our eyeballs, the boring math kind. But before we cracked open a single book, Jordan decided I needed a different lesson first. She lunged, fingers flying right for my ribs, and I yelped like a cartoon. The tickling turned into wrestling, and suddenly the bed springs were squeaking and our skirts rode up. Jordan pinned me with one thigh and two hands, breathing hot against my neck while she pushed the hem of my panties down my hips. I got hers off just as fast. Naked and laughing, we tangled harder; her tongue slid between my lips, wet and tasting like bubblegum lip balm. Her fingers found me slick and warm, sliding in circles that made my hips jerk. I got two of mine inside her too, curling, and Jordan moaned my name in short, shaky gasps. We rocked like that—deep, quick, messy—until the afternoon homework sat forgotten on the desk and the only thing we cared about was how fast we could make each other come.